More Than Life (6 page)

He had little memory of the long weeks he’d spent in an American military hospital—for the first few days he was barely alive—but his will to live had been strong and he’d discharged himself as soon as he could walk, and returned to Europe to search for Mik. His determination outweighed his pain. No matter how long it took, he would find the only man he’d ever loved.

The American was thinner than Mik remembered, much thinner, but it was his face that frightened him most. His once dyed hair was now a natural golden blond, but the warmth in his complexion was dulled by too pale skin, and faded, sunken eyes. Isa was a broken shell of the man Mik remembered, and he was scared by the darkness that colored his features.

Mik felt a shudder pass through him. It was almost easier to imagine Isa dead than to accept the living hell he must have endured, than to comprehend the nightmare the last four years of his life had surely become. Mik couldn’t bear to think of him broken by Serbian hands. Death would have brought him mercy…peace at last and an end to his suffering. “How did your people find you?”

Isa sighed. “They believed I was dead for almost as long as you did. It was only a chance exchange of information with the Russians that led them to me. Rangers lifted me from the floor of a Belgrade prison and flew me first to Cyprus, and then to a hospital in Virginia. I discharged myself as soon as I was able and flew to Greece. When you weren’t there, I went to Pristina. I found your old home razed to the ground, and I feared the worst.”

Mik nodded, but then he thought of the mysterious parcel that had nearly broken him. “Someone knew I was here. I got a package a few years ago with my parent’s valuables and your cap. Who sent that?”

A startled look crossed Isa’s face before he seemed to reconcile himself with an answer. “My partner, Rico, I’d imagine. I knew things were going to go bad and your parents probably wouldn’t get out. Your father and I figured Doric could use anything of value to keep moving the children. Rico smuggled them to Switzerland when he left Kosovo the week before your father was killed.”

Mik exhaled slowly. Even faced with their own demise, Artan and Isa had done so much to protect all that was dear to Mik’s heart. If only they’d thought to protect
themselves
.

Isa dropped his gaze, and Mik felt a stab of fresh grief lance his heart. So much pain, so much suffering. Could any of it have been prevented? And where on earth did they go from here? Isa seemed so broken, shattered by all he had endured. Was there anything left of the man he’d mourned for so long?

“Mik, I’m sorry.” Isa’s quiet voice faltered. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Dazed, Mik shook his head. It was almost impossible to comprehend that Isa was stood in front of him…in front of him and alive, and the guilt he felt was crippling. For years, he’d believed the remote Albanian haven he’d built with Rea and Leka was the safest place for them, and that the decision he’d taken to halt their flight had been the best path for all of them, but now he wasn’t so sure. The image of Isa searching for them tortured him. Would Isa have found them sooner if they’d gone to Greece like he’d instructed them to? Or stayed in the country they’d given everything to defend? “What do you have to be sorry for?”

Isa kept his gaze on the dense forest ground. “It was selfish of me to come here. I knew you believed I was dead…that your life would move on. I thought I’d be content just to see you were alive, but I should’ve known it would never be enough.”

“Isa? What are you trying to say?”

The American shivered in answer. For the first time, Mik realized that it had begun to rain. He put his hand on Isa. The American was cold to the bone. He pulled Isa towards the lodge. “Come inside,” he said. “You need to get warm.”

Isa resisted. “What about your wife?”

Mik turned sharply. “My
what
?”

Isa couldn’t seem to bring himself to say the words again. “Your daughter,” he said. “How old is she?”

“Four years, three months.”

Isa swallowed thickly. “She was born when we were working together?”

Mik frowned, confusion clouding his brain before he understood the direction of Isa’s thoughts. “I’m not her biological father, Isa. We…Rea, Leka and I, are her guardians. You’ve seen her face before. Don’t you recognize the light in her eyes?”

Isa shook his head, blank and unmoved. “Is she from your neighborhood?”

Mik grasped Isa’s shoulders. “Isa, you carried her in your arms all the way from Kosovo. She’s only here because of you.”

Memories of the perilous journey that had brought them to this very place flooded Mik’s mind as Isa finally seemed to comprehend what he was trying to tell him.

The fight drained from Isa. He fell into Mik’s arms. “I remember, Mik. I remember everything.”

* * * *

Isa let Mik pull him into the lodge and undress him in front of the fire. Mik placed a warmed blanket over his shoulders and searched out fresh clothes. When Mik returned to the living area of the lodge, he found Isa staring at the flames, lost in thought.

Mik stood in front of him and grasped his hands. In the fading light of the room, he noticed the raised flesh on Isa’s wrists—scar tissue, from shackles and chains. He traced the marks up Isa’s arms and to his bare torso. With shaking hands, he found the bullet marks, and his stomach churned. The circular scars were barely the start of the damage inflicted on Isa’s body.

Lashes, burns, puncture wounds. Abuse, neglect, and starvation. Isa’s once strong, hard, muscular body was ravaged and thin, and he flinched as Mik traced a particularly grisly scar on his chest. Mik could only imagine the pain behind a wound like that, and the very thought of it tore his heart in two.

“Isa…”

Isa reached out and caught Mik’s hand. “Don’t. Please. Don’t let them define us.”

As if to punctuate his quiet plea, Isa drew Mik closer. The blanket fell to the floor and Isa fumbled with the zip of Mik’s coat. His hands were clumsy, but Mik sensed it would be wrong to help him. Isa wanted him as bare and vulnerable as he was, and he had to do it in his own way.

They stood naked before the fire, and Mik felt a long repressed desire spark in him, stronger than it had ever been. Isa was battered and broken to the core, but he was still the most beautiful man Mik had ever seen. He took Isa’s face in his hands, and they came together in a soul searching kiss before Mik pulled away.

“I never forgot that you loved me, more than your own life, you stubborn, stubborn bastard. How could I ever forget that? Now let me love you the way I’ve dreamed of for so long.”

Isa felt like he was living the part of the dream he’d never once allowed his desperate mind to reach. He felt drunk and dizzy, and almost detached from his body as Mik maneuvered him.

Mik took Isa’s hands and placed them on the mantel above the hearth. Isa felt the warmth of his lost love’s breath wash over his ear. “Let me love you,” Mik whispered again. “Let me show you what I’ve dreamed of while you were gone.”

Lost to the sensation of Mik behind him, Isa could only gasp, could only suck in a soft, short breath that did nothing to calm his hammering heart. “Please.”

Light, searching hands skimmed over every inch of Isa’s fragile frame. No scar, mark or imperfection went unloved. Mik traced a burning path with his calloused fingers, until Isa felt the gentle heat of Mik’s lips. The worst of the scars from the lashes were on Isa’s back. Thick, chorded scar tissue rose up from his once muscular back and he felt his knees go weak as Mik traced one with his tongue.

“Mik, I…”

The effort of the whispered plea made his body sway. Mik steadied him, turned him in his arms, and took his hand. “Come with me.”

Barefoot, they trod silently over the stone floor as Mik led them to the mattress at the back of the room. Mik lowered Isa onto his back and positioned himself in the cradle of his once lithe legs.

Isa writhed beneath Mik as he gave every part of his body over to him—his neck, his chest, his scarred abdomen, and finally, his cock. Mik worshiped Isa until he was begging for something he’d never wanted before.

Heeding the desperate need in Isa, Mik rolled him over and covered Isa with his body. The weight of Mik over him made Isa feel safe and loved—two emotions he could hardly remember.

Mik slid his oil-slick finger into him. Isa moaned, and everything felt right. One finger became two, and as an electrifying heat began to simmer in Isa’s veins, Mik breached him with his cock.

Isa arched his body as he made room for Mik in every way possible. He’d never allowed a man inside him, but now he gave Mik everything—his body, his mind, his heart. All that he’d been when they’d once known each other and all he’d ever become was there for Mik to take.

Mik was gentle as he moved inside Isa’s shattered body, and their tender lovemaking was a far cry from the stolen, frantic encounters they’d shared before. Back then, kisses had bruised, teeth had clashed, and nails had torn skin. Now, Mik loved Isa as though he might break, every touch reverent and sweet.

Isa rose up on his hands and knees. Mik curved his stronger frame around him and slid his hands down Isa’s sweat-slicked back and over his hips until he wrapped his long fingers around Isa’s cock. Mik matched the flick of his wrist with the slow, steady thrust of his hips, but it wasn’t slow enough for Isa. With a desperate moan, he hung his head. It was too much, and it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t bear it, but he needed more.

“Mik, please, I…fuck.”

Without slowing the beating drum of his hips, Mik kissed a path up Isa’s spine until he came to his ear. “Let it go, Isa. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

It was the first time Mik had ever uttered the words aloud and they slammed into Isa with more force than any bullet ever had. He found his release, and let out a soft, guttural cry. Behind him, Mik groaned deeply and jerked his hips. Residual jolts of heat shuddered through Isa and Mik’s cock pulsed inside him, warm and wet.

For long moments, neither man moved. Isa felt boneless, aware of nothing but the feel of Mik still deep within him. He felt detached, like he could float away and never return to this hazy world of forgotten dreams.

He was startled when he felt gentle hands turn him over. Mik brushed Isa’s sweat dampened hair away from his forehead and wiped away the remnants of his tears. He drew the blankets over them both and held Isa close while he trembled.

“You’re safe now, Isa. You’re safe.”

* * * *

Sometime later, Isa came awake to find Mik watching him with dark, anxious eyes, searching his face for something Isa couldn’t be sure was there.

“You were shaking for so long,” Mik whispered. “I thought you were lost again.”

“I’m sorry, Mik. I’m so sorry. I…”

Mik silenced him with a kiss. “Don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry. Life is too short for that.”

Isa was silent for a while as he centered his weary mind. His body ached and burned, but for the first time in as long as he could remember, it was in all the right ways. The fog in his mind dissipated, and he touched Mik’s face with the tips of two fingers. He turned Mik’s face until he found his gaze again. “What are you thinking about?”

Mik shrugged. “The past, the present, the future. You’re in my arms, but what now?”

“I don’t know,” Isa admitted, “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I didn’t dare.”

“And now?”

“I think…I don’t know, Mik. You have a new life here. I don’t want to intrude on that.”

Mik swore softly. “This has been no life for me without you. Rea will tell you I’ve barely existed all these years. Arta has given me a purpose to go on, but I never stopped loving you, Isa. Never.”

Isa knew without searching Mik’s eyes that his vow was true. He felt the same. He always had. “We have a second chance,” he said, somewhat absently. His head still felt fragmented, but he was content, so content he could lie right here with Mik for the rest of his days.

Mik touched his face again to rouse him. “Will you stay here? With me? With us? I don’t think I can watch you leave.”

Isa felt the last of the fear he’d carried since he’d been lifted from the Serbian prison drain from his body. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you to say those words to me. I’d like that. This place feels like home to me.”

Mik smiled and kissed him until the heat between them built again and Mik lowered himself onto Isa’s body to love him once more. After, they lay sated and exhausted. Mik traced idle patterns on Isa’s chest as he dozed until something suddenly seemed to occur to him. “What’s your real name?”

Isa opened his eyes. “My real name?”

“Isa isn’t an American name. What were you called before you came to me?”

Isa thought for a moment and struggled to recall who he used to be. “Jack,” he said. “Like my father and his father before him.”

Mik was silent as his matched the name with the man in his arms. “Can I still call you Isa?”

Isa grinned, and for the first time in years felt like the man who’d surely died on the streets of Pristina. “It’s who I always dreamed I could be.”

Taken from the moment Mik and Isa parted in Pristina, under the storm of the Serbian attack

Isa felt the fracture of his heart as Mik turned away from him. He was a battled-hardened soldier, a seasoned intelligence operative, but his tears burned as the only man he’d ever loved ran away from him.

Don’t look back
.

Isa ran back to Leka’s house. Overhead, he heard the roar of an aircraft, NATO, perhaps, but it was wishful thinking to hope for such help now. The mighty strike of the most powerful nations in the world would, as ever, come too late.

With a heavy heart, Isa took shelter by a shattered wall and waited for the first of the Serbian convoy to roll by. He couldn’t bring himself to worry about his own fate. His plan had to work—it
had
to—if Mik had any chance of making it out of Pristina alive, and if the last few months had taught Isa anything, it was that the life of his vibrant, young lover was worth far more than his own.