The Last Twilight (17 page)

Amiri ‘was better. He cradled her against his chest, folding her so close and tight she could have been curled in the fetal position on some hard vertical bed. His strength was immense. Being held by him felt safer than a cocoon made out of woven steel—like nothing could touch her. Nothing bad, ever.

And oh, the irony. Glowing eyes. Men who might be cheetahs, who vanished and who lit fires with their minds. Incredible, impossible; she was sensible, a scientist. Surely that meant something.

Or not. It was too weird. Hairless cat, weird. UFO, weird. The kind of weird that showed up in the
National Enquirer,
or those late night television documentaries her dad had loved, the ones about singing crystals and possessed nuns and the elusive tracks of some howling Tibetan Yeti. Oh, her dad would think this was great. He’d be all over Amiri like … like…

She couldn’t finish the thought. It hurt too much.

The sky began to lighten. Rikki could not guess how long they had been traveling. Amiri found an old elephant trail—pounded earth, decades old, following a circuitous path deeper and farther into the rich heart of the wild and the green. It led them to a stream, and there, finally, he set her down. He did not look tired, but she thought he must be. His body seemed to soak in the early rays of morning sunlight, and he stretched and stretched. Nearly naked.

She looked away, face red. She could ignore his body at night—no light to see—but it was different now. And she liked looking at him far too much.

The edge of the water was crowded with vines and shining leaves, the soft muddy shore trampled with fine small hoof prints the size of her thumb. Rikki crouched, scooping water into her mouth. It made her think of Eddie. She could still see his face in her mind, bloody and slack-jawed; like Frankie, like Frankie, like Frankie in the car with the glass all over his body and her mother screaming, screaming, screaming.

“Will he live?” Her voice was low, hoarse. The first words she had spoken in hours.

Amiri took a moment. “If Rictor says he can make the boy well, then he can. And he will.”

“You trust him.”

“No. But I trust the woman who does.”

Rikki tasted something rather unpleasant at the mention of another woman—a woman who Amiri trusted. She wondered what it took to gain that trust. And what it would mean to be his friend, to have him care, truly, from the heart.

“Your friend Rictor—”

He shook his head, cutting her off. “Not a friend.”

“Okay.” She hesitated, considering. “So how does he do what he does?”
Vanishing, healing, stopping a goddamn inferno…

“Rictor is not human,” Amiri said. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. And to him, perhaps it was.

“He looks human,” Rikki said. But then, she had met quite a few people in her life who wore their humanity as nothing but a veneer. Being human and having humanity were two different things—biology and a state of mind. Heart and soul.

Amiri shrugged. “There is a reason I did not want your colleague to draw my blood.”

Mack.
She had hardly thought of him, had not really grieved. “How do you know your blood is different? Have you done tests?”

“Tests were done on me,” he said flatly. “I overheard the discussion of my results.”

“Ah,” she breathed, and then, with some hesitation: “Will you tell me what they said?”

He blinked once, and the mask slid into place—that cool neutrality, painful to see because it reminded Rikki so much of herself. “It meant little to me. Only, that there were recognizable differences in my DNA. Acute variations. Something even a rudimentary expert in genetics would recognize.”

“Huh.” Rikki bit her bottom lip. Thinking hard.

Amiri arched an eyebrow. “You would like to study me.”

“Not at your expense. But I would also be lying if I didn’t admit to some curiosity.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” he replied, eyes glittering. “And science is a cold art.”

“Science saves lives,” she reminded him.

He stared a moment longer, tension radiating from his body, then took a deep breath, fingers flexing. “I am sorry. I forget you are not them.”

That stung. “Thanks a lot.”

He gave her a sharp look. “You have no idea what I endured.”

Rikki felt the insane urge to tear off her shirt and show him just what it was she thought he had endured. God only knew it could not be worse. But she kept her hands clenched. Looked him straight in the eyes. “You went through something terrible. You think about it every day. Little things remind you. Even sleep isn’t safe because you have nightmares. So yeah, I get that. I understand. But what happened to you is not my fault. Don’t blame me, or all of humanity, for what you went through. I did
not
hurt you.”

“But it is in you,” he whispered. “The danger.”

Anger stirred. “It’s in everyone. Or haven’t you figured that out yet?”

Amiri closed his eyes. “You could not possibly understand.”

“Of course not,” she breathed. “Because there’s no way at all I would know what it’s like to be kidnapped and humiliated, or tortured within an inch of my life. No way at all I would know what it feels like to be treated worse than an animal.”

Amiri stared, and his expression was awful, naked, a bitter thing to taste. He leaned toward her, and she held up her hand, staving him off. Scrambling backward in her haste to get away.

“Never mind,” she rasped, and got to her feet. Started walking. Her eyes stung. She did not know why. He had meant nothing. He was afraid. Same as her.

Rikki heard footsteps. She walked faster, then found herself bursting into a hard run. Heard pursuit, but did not look back. It was all she could do to keep her footing, to see past the tears clouding her vision. Her heart ached so badly she thought it would burst.

A thorny vine snagged her ankle. She started to go down. Never hit the ground. Hands grabbed her waist. She glimpsed dark skin and green leaves and a gasp of sky—right before she landed hard on a long lean body that grunted and slid beneath her.

Rikki tried to roll away, but Amiri’s arms tightened. She gave up without a fight. Too exhausted, sagging limp and tangled against his body. Tears leaked from her eyes. She could not stop crying, could not even think of the last time she had been this weepy. She did not want Amiri to see her. Begged herself every which way to suck it up and stay strong.

But he moved, rolling them on their sides, and he was big and warm and his hands touched her cheeks, his thumbs smoothing her skin, and his lips pressed once, twice, against her eyelids. He whispered, “Are you hurt?” and Rikki shook her head, hating herself, hating him. But hungry for his touch. Still hungry for his kindness.

“You don’t know me,” she finally managed to tell him, her voice raw. “You don’t have a right to tell me who I am.”

“And you have never done the same?” he prodded gently, though his own voice was hoarse, broken. “You have never been judge and jury?”

“All the time,” Rikki said.

“So,” Amiri murmured.

“Yeah.” Her tears began to dry, but her nose was disgusting. She tried to wipe at it, but his hands were still in the way, brushing tears from her cheeks. “I’m not who you think I am.”

Amiri tilted up her chin, forcing her to look at him. His face swam into focus, his skin rich and dark, his features fine as a knife’s edge. His eyes glowed, like amber soaked in sunlight, and the way he looked at her was just as warm and soft and sad.

“You and I,” he rumbled, and then, quieter: “I am too wary. I look for problems, upsets. I anticipate. It is the only way I know how to keep myself safe.”

“Yes,” she said. “I know how you feel.”

Amiri drew in a slow deep breath, and pressed his mouth against her ear. The brief contact made her shiver, but his voice, low and smooth, did far more, washing away the worst of the hurt as he murmured, “Forgive me. Please.”

Rikki closed her eyes. “Forgive you? For what? Being honest? Protecting yourself?”

“I was foolish.”

“You were afraid.”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

“Because I’m not like you.” She took a deep breath. “You think I’ll hurt you because I’m human.”

“It is not that simple.”

“Of course not.”

Amiri remained silent, staring. There was a hush in the way he held himself that made her think he was more on edge than she; as though one wrong move, one word, one glance, would hurt him so far down she would never find him again. The idea hurt. She had thought she knew what misery felt like, but this was something else—and God, she was a fool.

Amiri reached out, very slowly, and caressed the corner of her eye. And then, even more carefully, he leaned closer. Rubbed his cheek against her cheek. Pressed his lips once more to her ear.

“I am sorry,” he said again, so quietly. “I am sorry to have caused you pain.”

“You’re sorry,” she said. “But you still don’t trust me.”

Amiri went very still, his lips lingering against her ear. “And does it matter to you, whom I trust?”

Rikki said nothing. Amiri’s hand slid behind her back, and this time when his mouth touched her ear, it felt like a kiss.

“Tell me,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she breathed. “It matters.”

“Ah,” he sighed. “Then I will trust you, Rikki Kinn. I will give you my trust. And you …”

“Yes.” She turned her head, just slightly, enough to look into his eyes. “Yes, Amiri. I’ll do the same.”

She had little choice but to say those words—her heart gave her no alternative—and she watched in tense silence as Amiri stared, his gaze brutal, without a mask to hide his hunger and loneliness, so naked and raw it stole her breath away. No one had ever looked at her with such eyes, with so much desire, and it marked her as deeply as the scars on her body, as deep as her memories of Markovic and her father. One look, the same as a knife. One look, as strong as love.

Rikki kissed him: light, gentle, a mere brushing of her lips across his mouth. Amiri did not react, remaining so still that for a moment she felt shot with uncertainty, shame. But just as she was about to pull away, Amiri’s hand shot from her cheek to the back of her head and he dragged her close.

His kiss was fire. Slow and hard, grinding her so close to the edge of pleasure she almost came apart in his arms. Warmth poured through her body, pure sunlight in her bones, and when Amiri finally broke off the kiss it was all she could do to breathe again, to see past the stars dancing in her eyes. Senses, strumming on a razor’s edge.

Amiri’s breathing was ragged. She swallowed hard. Focusing on the pleasure still aching between her legs. She could hardly speak. “Is it always like that with you?”

He shook his head, not even attempting a smile. “Never.”

“Well,” she breathed. Amiri untangled himself and rolled to his feet. He pulled Rikki with him and they stood together in the dappled morning sunlight, covered in dirt and leaves. Her hands were lost in his loose grip; just glimpses of pale skin caught in long fingers the color of rich earth; buttery, smooth, glimmering with a hint of gold. He was a beautiful man.

Amiri gave her an uncertain look. “We should go.”

Rikki tried to smile, but it felt shaky. “Death and destruction on our heels.”

“And more to come.”

“You shining optimist.”

“I will leave that to you,
mpenzi.”
Amiri kissed her hand. “You, who truly do shine.”

Her smile steadied. “You’ll be quoting poetry next.”

“If you like.” He turned to look down the path, and then back at her, his mouth quirking. “This makes it easier, you know.”

“Easier?”

“When I tell you the wind has shifted, and that I smell people. You will not think I am crazy.”

“Just a bragger,” she said. “Do you really smell anyone nearby?”

“Old scents. But it means we may be close to some kind of village.”

“Finally.” Rikki let out her breath, slowly. “What are we going to do, Amiri?”

“One thing at a time.” He tugged her into a swift walk. “We do not know what we will find.”

And that, she thought, was far too true for comfort.

Below, at the bottom of the tumbling hill, the women splashed in a winding stream cut with gentle turns of white water. Some of them held babies. Several washed clothes. She heard gentle chatter, some giggles.

“Well,” said Rikki. “Do you think they’re dangerous?”

He looked, caught her smile, and shook his head. “Only if you believe we have stumbled upon the last living tribe of Amazons.”

Rikki’s smile widened. “Anything’s possible.”

He grunted. “And if we are contagious?”

“Oh, the irony of you bringing that up.” She pressed her cheek on her arm, thinking hard. “I don’t believe we are. Despite Eddie.”

“We still have not become ill.”

“That, and too many people have been throwing themselves in our faces, unprotected.”

“Unless they have a vaccine.”

Wonderful thought.
Rikki chewed her bottom lip—and caught Amiri watching, raw hunger in his eyes. Unabashed, naked. Heat thrilled.

Below, the women continued to splash in the water, laughing. Rikki imagined Amiri in that water, him taking her hard on some flat sun-warmed rock, and the flash-fantasy was enough to make her mouth dry, her lower extremities throb.

She cleared her throat. “Our only alternative is to keep on walking.”

“We need help. We have no time for anything else.”

“Agreed. I just wish I knew why this was happening.”

His mouth tightened. “It is a game. There is no
why.
No reason. It means nothing.”

“Except that people are dying.”

“It still means nothing. Life is cheap, to some.”

Rikki touched him, lay her fingers on his arm. Squeezed once. “Tough guy,” she said. “We don’t have to go down there. You could leave me somewhere. Run ahead, find a different way back to civilization. You’d be faster alone.”

He gave her a dark look. “Unacceptable.”

“I thought you were a pragmatist.”

Amiri reached out and touched her chin. “I am the man who promised to protect you. I would rather lose my skin than be pragmatic with you. Anyone but you.” His touch, his voice: like a velvet chain, supple and binding. Rikki slowly exhaled. Amiri’s eyes glowed, warm as the sun. “I will take care of you, Rikki Kinn. I will keep you safe. And someday, when we are far and away from this place, I will tell you of all the foolish, awful things I have done. And you will either shake your head at my stupidity, or be unable to look at me for shame. But we will be alive. We will be alive, and so will others.”

“Cheerleader,” she said, breathless. “Pollyanna.”

“Indeed,” he replied, and kissed her mouth. He started gentle, but she held on and he dug in deeper, kissing her as though it were the last time he would ever have the chance. It felt so good that for the first time in years she wanted to be naked. She wanted to sink her body onto his. He was resting on his stomach, but she knew he was hard. She could feel his arousal in his kiss, in the jump of his muscles as her hand trailed down his back, sliding into the crease of his ass. Rikki nipped his bottom lip.

And then he was on top of her. No warning. His body sinking between her thighs. She felt a moment of panic, but quashed it. Amiri was not trying to hurt her. He was not trying to take off her clothes. But he was pressed so tight against her they might as well have been naked. The hospital scrubs were flimsy, already torn. His erection rubbed hard between her legs and it made her so hot she found herself—despite all her caution—reaching to tug the elastic past her hips. He caught her hand, stopping her, but when her fingers made a detour from the edge of her pants to his underwear, he shook like a thunderstorm. His eyes glowed like fire. “We must not,” he hissed. “It is not safe.”

“It never is,” she whispered, but she had a feeling he meant something else, something more than mere discovery, and she did not care. She had spent her whole life living on the edge of disaster—her whole life pretending not to—and she was done, done pretending. She wanted this. She wanted him. The danger meant nothing.

Rikki stroked him, encouraging Amiri to move against her. He did, with a look of such agonized hunger on his face that for a moment she almost wondered if he were right, if he had his reasons, but then his hand slid down the front of her pants to touch her and pleasure rocked her so hard she arched off the ground, breath hissing. Amiri slid down her body, tugging her pants with him. His hands began to trail up her stomach toward her ribs. She grabbed his wrists, pushing away. Giving him a warning look.

He blinked, obviously surprised, but said nothing. His hands moved down again, spreading apart her legs. She was naked to him and she did not care. She was naked and she was not afraid. She was naked and there were strangers at the bottom of the hill, and she would not give a rat’s ass if they saw her. All she wanted was his touch.

He gave it to her. She covered her mouth, trying not to cry out, but the pleasure was deep and hard and his tongue was firm where it should be firm, hot and wet and supple, while his fingers stroked and ebbed and sank, pressing and tightening, tearing her apart with desire. She forgot pain. She forgot everything, Writhing, shaking, building around that blinding breaking touch.

A strangled gasp escaped her that Amiri covered with his mouth, moving fast to kiss her, one hand still caressing between her thighs. She shuddered, tightening her legs around his hand, twisting with pleasure. He kissed her so deeply she almost came a second time—fingers digging into his shoulders like claws.

He was still hard. Rikki caught his erection, her grip featherlight, holding him against her damp inner thigh. Amiri trembled, his gaze hot, wild. Glowing.

“Careful,” he rasped. “I have nothing to protect us.”

“Then you better be quick,” she muttered, hoarse. “Because I want you in me now.”

He made a low, strangled sound, and began moving against her thigh. That was not good enough for Rikki. She pushed at him, and he rolled onto his back. She sank between his legs and covered him with her mouth. Her heart thundered so hard she could hardly see straight, and Amiri’s harsh breathing was so desperate she wanted to make him scream. But in the back of her mind she could still hear those women bathing, and she wrapped her tongue around his head, sucking fast, fingers sliding up his shaft, and set a rhythm that sent him bucking deeper into her mouth, that made her body ache all over again to feel him inside her, pumping and thrusting, and when he came there was just enough warning to move her head, which was good because he jerked so hard she might have choked on him.

Her ears rang. Rikki collapsed on his chest. Sweat-soaked. Delirious. Like an anchor had been torn off her shoulders. She felt so light she could fly. Crazy, crazy, girl. She could not believe this. What the hell was she doing— what the
hell
—

“Wow,” she breathed.

Beneath her, Amiri said, “Oh.”

Oh.
Not exactly the enthusiastic response she had been expecting. Rather less enthusiastic than any man had a right to be. So
unenthusiastic
that Rikki thought she might just have to rip his balls off.

She raised her head, staring. But Amiri was looking in another direction entirely.

Rikki heard a sharp cracking sound. A real knuckle-crunching flex of hard metal. She twisted, blinking hard. A row of women stood behind her. Dripping. Half-naked. Looking rather unhappy.

And carrying enough firepower to blast her ass back to the United States.

“Damn,” Rikki muttered. “They really are Amazons.”