Prisoner (Werewolf Marines) (30 page)

DJ straightened up, forcing her to let him
go, and scrubbed at his face with a cocktail napkin. “Thanks, Echo.
You’re a good friend. Like Charlie said, you’re the best of the
best.”

Echo suppressed a hysterical laugh by sheer
force of will. “Any time.”

The moon had risen by the time they left the
bar, but was washed out by the street lights and neon signs. The
Luxor’s beam was lit, a pillar of white light piercing the sky.

“Do you know why it’s flickering?” Echo
asked.

DJ shook his head.

“Bats,” said Echo. “Thousands of bats. The
light draws moths, and the bats come to eat them. And then owls
come to eat the bats. It’s an entire ecosystem in mid-air, powered
by thirty-nine xenon lamps and millions of tourist dollars.”

“Cool,” DJ replied absently, but was
uncharacteristically quiet as they walked down the brightly lit
streets, worn out by emotion or lost in thought.

The cool night breeze carried away Echo’s
anger and grief, replacing them with restlessness. She wanted to
move every part of her body, all at once and as fast as she could.
She wanted to get in the car and floor it out of town. She wanted
to run until she sprouted wings and flew, until she broke the sound
barrier, until she plummeted off the edge of the world.

She wondered if that was how DJ felt all the
time.

I drank too much,
she told herself,
though it made no sense. She’d had one cocktail after a full meal.
That shouldn’t affect her at all.

I thought about my sisters.
That had
to be it.

By the time they got to their suite, she
couldn’t stand it any more. Everything was moving in slow motion.
She wanted to kick the world and make it speed up. She’d never be
able to sleep like this. She had to burn off some of her excess
energy.

“Want to spar with me?” she asked.

DJ turned, his red-rimmed eyes snapping into
focus. “Here?”

“We’ll have room if we move the
furniture.”

“Sure.” He easily hefted a heavy armchair.
“This’ll be fun. I’d been meaning to ask.”

DJ helped her move the living room furniture
into the kitchen and bedroom, leaving a large bare space. He took
off his shoes and socks, then shifted rapidly from foot to foot,
bouncing like a lightweight boxer.

Belatedly, she checked his arm. The swelling
was gone, but a black patch still covered half his biceps. “How’s
your arm?”

He rotated it. “Fine, so long as you don’t
hit or grab me there.”

“Don’t worry, you delicate flower,” she
teased. “I’ll be careful not to bruise your petals.”

“Thanks. You’re very considerate, for a
gopher shifter.”

“A gopher?”

“They’re the bane of my mom’s rose garden.
Anywhere you don’t want me to hit or grab you?”

“
I
don’t have any weak spots,” Echo
retorted.

She too was moving back and forth, getting
her rhythm and observing him. From the one fight they’d had, she
knew he could match or surpass her strength if he got her in a
hold. He wasn’t as quick as her, though, or as agile. She’d have to
dart in and out, and not allow him to grab her. He’d have the
advantage if they went to the floor.

“Ready?” he called.

He’d been watching her too, no doubt making
the same calculations.

Echo leaped over his head.

She heard him half-laugh, half-gasp in
surprise. Then her feet slammed down on the carpet behind him.
Immediately, she lashed out in a reverse crescent kick. But he
wasn’t there any more. He’d dived forward and rolled.

DJ sprang to his feet. Once again, they faced
each other across the room.

“Good one,” he said.

She smiled. “There’s lots more where that
came from.”

“Yeah?” He smiled back. “Let’s see.”

His gaze flicked upward, no doubt calculating
how high he’d need to jump to grab her in mid-air. She crouched
slightly, as if poised to leap again, and he instantly did the
same. But she rushed him instead.

He side-stepped, faster than she’d expected,
and swung out his leg to sweep her ankles out from under her. She
jumped, letting his foot slice through empty air, and slid in with
a jab. DJ deflected it and raised his fist as if to punch back. As
Echo moved to block the punch, he attacked with a roundhouse kick,
slapping her side lightly with the back of his foot.

“Point,” he called.

As DJ’s foot returned to the floor, he
instantly lashed out with his other leg. Echo dropped down,
squatting on one leg and extending her other nearly flat to the
floor. His kick flew over her head, and she grabbed the ankle of
his standing leg and yanked. DJ went down, twisting in mid-air to
control his fall. The instant he landed, Echo’s knife-hand strike
sliced down and stopped a finger’s width from his throat.

“Point,” said Echo.

His gaze traveled past the hand at his
throat, along Echo’s outstretched body. “That’s a beautiful stance.
It’s from kung fu, right?”

Echo nodded, holding it for his inspection.
“I wouldn’t use it if I was fighting for real. But it’s fun for
sparring. What’ve you trained in?”

“Karate, when I was a teenager. Marine
hand-to-hand combat. Another round?”

“Sure. I’m hardly warmed up.”

They both squared off again. Echo slid in,
attacking with a backfist to his face. Looking startled, DJ flung
up his right arm in a block. If she completed the movement, her
fist would slam into his bruise. She forced herself to stop, nearly
stumbling with the effort. Taking advantage of her distraction, DJ
darted behind her and locked his forearm around her throat.

“Point.” He laughed as he stepped away. “I
knew you wouldn’t bruise my petals.”

“Oh, you tricky bastard,” said Echo, but she
was laughing too. “Watch out. I won’t be so considerate if you try
that again.”

And then they were fighting too fast for
fakes or pre-planned moves, reacting purely on instinct and the
necessity of the moment. There was no attacker or defender, only
two people moving together, sometimes tapping fast but lightly,
sometimes slipping out of the way.

Sweat slid down Echo’s face, and a drop stung
her eyes. Her breath burned in her lungs. DJ too was sweating, his
black hair shining, the smooth brown skin of his face and arms
glistening. They were both kicking less and striking more, too
tired to lift their heavy legs so high. They didn’t stop to count
points, or even announce them. Neither had enough breath to speak.
She could hear him panting, no softer or louder than her own
gasps.

They fell into a rhythm, strike and block,
strike and deflect, strike and slide. It was more like a dance than
a fight. She knew what he’d do before he did it. He too seemed to
know her moves a split second in advance. They were reading each
other’s bodies so easily and well that it felt as if they were
reading each other’s minds.

When DJ lunged in with his hand open, Echo
knew it was a grab disguised as a strike. She could have slid out
of range to evade it, or slapped it aside. Instead, she let his
hand wrap around her wrist, and grabbed his in turn. Two feet shot
out, two ankles were swept, and they fell together to the
floor.

She expected him to immediately try to pin
her. She knew she was fast enough to pin him first. But she didn’t.
And he didn’t. They lay together, side by side and inches apart, in
a silence that said more than words. His warmth and his
fire-and-salt scent rose up in a dizzying fog. She wanted to kiss
him more than she wanted to breathe.

Echo looked into DJ’s guileless eyes and knew
he wanted her too, as surely as she’d known that his open-hand
strike was really a grab. As surely as she knew that he was waiting
for her decision.

Holding him was throwing myself off a
cliff
, she thought.
Kissing him would be walking into a
fire. This is the most reckless thing I’ll ever do.

She reached out and stroked his cheek. Her
hand was trembling. His skin was hot and slick with sweat.

“You’re not going to regret this, are you?
Tell me you won’t regret it.” DJ’s scratchy voice was deeper, rough
as sandpaper. He was trembling too, like a runner waiting for the
starting pistol. “There’s still time for take-backs. We can pretend
it never happened. I’ll take a cold shower. Go for a run. Have
another drink. We can listen to—”

“Shut up,” Echo said, and kissed him.

His chest shuddered against hers. Then he was
kissing her back, hot and passionate, his hands clenching into
fists, then opening to grip her shoulders. She wrapped her arms
tight around him. His muscles shifted under her hands, sliding
beneath the damp cloth of his shirt. She could smell not only his
smoky natural scent, but his sweat and hers and the lemony aroma of
the shampoo they shared.

They were hardly doing anything, just kissing
and holding each other, but Echo could barely breathe. Her head was
spinning, and they weren’t even undressed yet. His lips were so
soft. He was clutching her like she’d fallen off a cliff and he was
holding her in mid-air.

She remembered the terror in his eyes as he’d
leaned over her, blood dripping from his hair and splashing on her
skin, and jammed a needle into her thigh. She remembered his
fake-casual shrug as he’d admitted that he’d let himself be
tortured to protect Roy. But most of all, she remembered his
brilliant smile, his laughter, and the trust that shone in his eyes
every time he looked at her.

Echo broke off the kiss. DJ didn’t pull her
back in, but lay where he was, stroking her shoulders and watching
her with that impossible, unwarranted, absolute trust.

Her hands were shaking, and she knew he could
feel it. He’d seen her cry, and rather than trying to dry her
tears, he’d told her that her sisters were worth crying for. He’d
offered her everything and held nothing back.

He loved her. She knew it without him having
to say anything. It was written in the yearning lines of his body,
in the brightness of his eyes, and in his silence.

He loved her, but he wouldn’t sacrifice Roy’s
life to stay with her, any more than she would sacrifice Charlie’s.
And she couldn’t have loved him if he would.

“I love you,” she said. “This is going to
break my heart. But I don’t care any more. Let it break.”

“I think mine already did,” DJ replied
softly. Then he laid his hand on her cheek and smiled his wry,
yes-I-know-it-looks-hopeless-but-I’m-not-giving-up-yet smile. “I
don’t care either, honestly. I’ve never been in love before and
it’s so much more than I ever imagined.
You’re
so much more
than I ever imagined. If this was all we got— if the hammer came
down right now, before we even had a chance to make love— I’d still
think it was worth it.”

Echo swallowed, holding back tears. She’d
sensed how he felt, but hearing the words, as he’d said, was so
much more. “I’ve never been in love either. I thought it would feel
different, too.”

“Different how?”

She had to think about it. “More
I want
you no matter what
, less
I want you to be happy.
”

“You can make me happy right now,” DJ said
cheerfully. He tugged at the strap of her tank top. “Can I take it
off?”

“If you let me take off yours.”

“Rip it off, if you like.”

Echo’s melancholy brightened into amusement.
“Do you have a thing for women tearing off your clothes?”

Unabashed, he replied, “I never thought of it
before, but it was really hot when you ripped up my shirt on the
mission last night. Do it again?”

Echo laughed. Then she put her hands on his
collar and yanked. His shirt tore straight down the front and back,
coming off in two pieces. She balled them up and tossed them across
the room, then pushed him down on his back. Echo crouched over him
and started to lean down to kiss him, but he put up a hand to stop
her.

“My turn.” He pulled off her tank top, then
unsnapped her bra and took it off.

Echo had never given any particular thought
to her breasts, but the sight of them did seem to make DJ happy.
“Well? What do you think?”

“They’re exactly as perfect as I imagined.”
He reached up and caressed them, now cupping them in his hands, now
rubbing at her nipples until they hardened to his touch.

Echo’s breath came quickly. Electric tingles
ran through her at every movement of his hands, at every shift of
his body, at every beat of her heart. She let it all happen, not
controlling or even monitoring it.

She settled down atop him. They both still
had their jeans on, but she could feel how hard he was beneath her.
And she could feel her own gathering heat. Echo began to rock
against him. She felt his breath catch, and heard his gasp. He
matched her movement, and her hands clenched over the bulging
muscles of his shoulders. Every nerve was alight with desire.

Echo had experienced those sensations before,
but they were completely different when they had
feelings
attached. She wasn’t only trying to please herself, she wanted to
give DJ pleasure. He wasn’t a warm body interchangeable with any
other warm body, he was
DJ
, who had bled on her and cried on
her and made her willing to feel. It was as if she was having sex
for the very first time, with all the thrill of a new experience
but minus the nervousness and uncertainty as to how it all
worked.

DJ caught her by the shoulders and rolled her
over, so they were on their sides again. He undid her jeans, then
stopped with his fingertips on the delicate skin just below her
belly. “Can I?”

“Go for it.” Echo’s focus had already
narrowed in to that tiny patch of flesh where his fingers
touched.

He slipped his hand lower, stroking downward
with excruciating slowness. Her whole body had stiffened in
anticipation when he finally slid a finger between her wet folds.
She sucked in a ragged breath, then another. With every stroke of
his finger, she seemed to float further above the floor, suspended
weightless in a hammock of rippling heat waves and electric
currents, the intensity building and building until it broke in a
burst of pleasure and white light.