The Tenth Legion (Book 6, Progeny of Evolution) (26 page)

“Have you told
Father about your condition?”

“No, I
haven’t,” she said. “Neither will you. He must never know.”

“What will you
do?”

“If we get out
of this alive, I’m getting rid of them.”

“If you do, I
can promise Father’s love will turn to hate.”

“Why should he
care?” The bitterness that crept into her voice arrived
unexpectedly.

“He told me
what you said about a member of the family being a traitor,” Ethan
said. “He thought your suspicions were unfounded, even offensive. I
suppose that precipitated the argument between you.”

“Yes, but
considering I relayed the information from the First Mother who
talked to me across two thousand years, I think he should have
listened instead of walking out with his ass up in the air and
taking up with the Brazilian slut.” Lorna hadn’t meant to bring
Valeria into the conversation. “Forget what I said about the
Brazilian girl.”

“Her name is
Valeria.”

“I know that,”
Lorna snapped back.

“Do you know
who she is?” Ethan asked, becoming calmer while her agitation
increased.

“No, should
I?”

He chuckled.
“If you check our genealogy on any search engine, you’d learn
Valeria Arriago is the hybrid granddaughter of Malvina Arriago. She
is Father’s goddaughter.”

“But she lives
in Brazil,” Lorna said lamely. “Malvina Arriago came from
Spain.”

“The story’s
complicated,” Ethan answered. “The short version is this. Valeria
is the youngest daughter of Benefacio Arriago, son of Malvina.
After Malvina’s death, they moved to Brazil.”

Lorna took a
deep, hopeful breath. “Are you telling me she’s not involved with
him?” She braced for the answer.

Ethan laughed.
“Heavens no, unless lavish birthday and Christmas gifts count.”

“But she
accompanied him to the Academy Awards.”

“Yes. He
wanted to take you, but you didn’t return his call,” Ethan nudged
her, winked, and added, “I think he had something big planned. A
special reconciliation, if you get my meaning.”

“My
pigheadedness messed everything up? Damn!”

“You’re not
too late. Maybe it’s even for the best things turned out this way.
Trust me when I say I believe your call would give him a great
lift.”

Contacting him
through the computer feed, she could have spoken to the imposing
image of his face, but right then, something more intimate seemed
appropriate. Her hands trembled while she punched in the number on
the cell phone.

“Ed White,”
said the level voice.

Since no one
besides Ethan learned of her suspicions about Valeria, she decided
not to complicate things by bringing them up. “It’s me, Lorna. I
understand everything. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you the way
I should’ve been, but I’m here now, if you’ll have me.”

“Of course
I’ll have you.” Ed’s tired voice reflected hope like that of a man
who’s been sick for a long time, but is told he’s past the crisis,
on the way to recovery. “I’m nothing without you.”

“Ed, there’s
one more thing I need to tell you.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“
I
’m leaving
right away. Cynthia, Thomas, and the others will follow shortly.
We’ll fight this thing until the last of us succumbs, but if we
must die, then let it be together, as a family.
At least, you’ll finally get to meet my
goddaughter.” His statement sounded like a declaration of war
rather than an acceptance of inevitable death. Did the new tone
arise because he had more to fight for, or because the hope of a
cure lay before them? Both, she decided.

Lorna put the
cell phone down. Ed was coming to her. Once he learned about the
pregnancy, nothing would stop him. The fact she carried twins would
remain a surprise.

On occasion
over the past month, idle thoughts created a list of preparations
for the first time together in the event of reconciliation. Now
that he was less than an hour away, she put the plan in motion.

First, she
gusted through the apartment, putting things away and dusting.
Changing the bed linens, she replaced the household set with some
Egyptian cotton. The thousand threads per square inch were fine,
soft to the touch. Over the snow-white sheets stretched a green
comforter, blending well with the brass four-poster bed frame.
After a few sprays of air freshener, she started a smooth jazz CD,
judging the scene ready for a homecoming.

Now to do the
same for herself. Donatello’s talents would come in handy, but he
hunkered down on the island.

In the shower,
every part of her body experienced a slow, systematic washing, a
symbolic removal of traces from every previous man in her life. She
wanted to present herself to Ed clean and new as if he were her
first lover and this was their first time. In the soft shower
water, the aromatic soap conjured up rich, thick lather like
whipped cream, making her slippery all over. The tactile sensation
of snaking soap-slick hands down thighs or over arms and breasts
warmed the inner caverns of her loins.

Stepping from
the shower wrapped in a large towel, she ruffled her hair with the
edge of a second, smaller one. Despite the efforts at preservation,
the hold of Donatello’s perm on the pageboy had almost completely
relaxed. Still, after not much toweling, followed by a few minutes
under the blow dryer, enough remained so everything fell pretty
well into place. After a quick pat or two, the bangs hung in a
straight line across her brow, ending an inch above the eyes.
Eyelashes curled up from alert, dark eyes, almost touching the
matching black eyebrows.

Sometimes,
Lorna wondered what attracted him to her. Not in possession of
luxurious beauty like Cynthia or elegance like Valeria, the best
you could call her was cute. Ed travelled in the proper circles to
meet any number of women—the kind who take over a room when they
enter. They move with unhurried elegance, lingering to chat. For
the fortunate, they might brush a kiss on a cheek or give a brief
embrace. The majority make do with a handshake, and they’re on
their way—for there are many to enthrall. They reminded Lorna of
the exquisite pink jellyfish with twenty-foot-long tendrils
drifting among the oceanic currents of the Australian reefs, only
without the stingers.

By contrast,
Edward White had fallen in love with a smallish, compact,
tawny-skinned lycan with a strong will accompanied by an equally
strong sense of independence. One, who took pride in having worked
for everything she had. From habits born out of the corporation
orphanage and police training, she carried herself erect, lacking
extravagant beauty, but in receipt of a fair share of male
attention because of her approachability. Her dark eyes brightened
upon solving a problem or a case. The legs of a sprinter, which
seemed continuously poised on the edge of an explosive display of
kinetic motion, were matched by small arms that could, like the
legs, instantly be on the move.

Lorna applied
a scent to block Ed’s sense of smell. He’d have to gage her
readiness in the way of humans. The idea of him proceeding
cautiously by judging reactions excited her. A dab of perfume
behind each ear, in addition to throat, and she was ready to get
dressed. Observing from over a shoulder the hard, uplifted buttocks
presenting themselves in the mirror pleased her immensely.

Even being
pregnant, she could get by with a sports bra. She smiled to
herself, not wanting to make removal too hard for him. The small
blue garment pushed her up and erect, covering hardly more than the
aureoles.

The underwear
drawer in the bureau glided open with frictionless silence. The
piece was antique, at least two hundred years old. The drawer
handles and hinges were original equipment, a rough-cast dull
brass, but the drawers moved on modern Teflon gliders. Lorna held
out two scanty pieces of silk, hesitated for a moment, and put them
back. No underwear tonight. She settled on a pair of biker pants.
Being a little bit trashy wouldn’t hurt. Besides, the feel of the
material stretched over her from waist to knees, drawing in at her
crotch and her butt, was sexy.

At his
trademark soft knock, her heart did flip-flops. Quickly, she dimmed
the lights and reset the CD to the beginning before opening the
door. Ed stood in the doorway; a shoulder rested against the
frame.

Slowly, she
looked the hulking specter over. For a month, she hadn’t seen him
in the flesh—a damn long month, one that felt like a decade. Then,
moving faster than she believed possible, he flew into her arms.
“Oh, God,” he said, with uncharacteristic emotion. “I thought I
might never see you again.”

Eagerness
shone in her eyes when they imprinted their lips on each other. His
great hands splayed across her back, pressing her against his
tight, sculpted torso. Reaching under her buttocks, he lifted her
so they were face-to-face. She wrapped hot spandex-encased thighs
around his waist. Her femininity slid against his stomach, evoking
a reaction from farther below.

“Should we be
doing this in your present condition?” he asked, breathing in her
ear.

“I’m eight
weeks along, not eight months,” she retorted. Suddenly, masking her
scent to keep him guessing seemed unimportant. “I want you,” she
hissed in his ear. Cupping his chin in both hands, she ploughed her
tongue as far into his mouth as she could.

Somehow, Ed
managed to close the door and walk the awkward, top-heavy
contraption their entwined bodies made to the bedroom without
stumbling or knocking anything over. Since their faces were welded
together, they made most of the trip by feel. Her fingers entangled
in the thick, straight red mane.

“A ponytail?”
she muttered huskily when she reached the back of his head. The
hair was tied off, leaving a three-inch lock curled downward, not
visible when she’d seen him on the monitor.

“Just a small
one. Do you like it?” he asked, placing her on the bed.

Tugging
gently, she giggled. “Something else to pull.”

Enjoying the
soft feel of quality sheets caressing her skin, she lay back. Ed
started to work the waist of the biker pants over her hips and
butt. His rigid flesh bulged against the dull copper gleam of his
trouser fly. Adroit, shimmying hips worked her pelvis free of the
garment. A last lift of her butt, and the clingy piece slipped off.
With a sideways move of her foot, she pushed it onto the floor.

“Now your
turn,” she said, burrowing fingers into the region of his pants
buckle and fly. In a flash, nimble digits undid the restraints and
were soon holding his erect member, maroon with arousal and hard as
an oak root. A surge of anticipatory pleasure filled her
womanhood.

“You have no
scent.” An expression of confusion crossed his face.

Lifting a
guileless face to him, she spoke with a tease in her tone. “That’s
right. You’re going to have to figure me out on your own, like the
humans.”

The succinct
arrangement of her pelvis on the white sheets summoned him boldly.
The hips flared straight out, like the top edge of a small, tan,
rectangular box with rounded edges. The slight parting of her legs
sheltered her pubis veiled by fine brown hairs. “You make my part
easy,” he said. “I don’t need scent.”

Adjusting to
an offering position invited his descent toward the juncture of her
thighs and their manifold offerings of ecstasy. Just before closing
the final distance, he paused to survey the expectant, bright-eyed,
smiling round face, hair radiating all around, dark on the white
pillow.

“You are my
love as well as my soul,” he said.

His eyes, jade
in the light, washed over her with tenderness. For whatever reason,
he’d chosen her from among every other being on earth. His act of
loving her made her into something different. Whether for better or
worse, she would never know in advance, only that the love they
shared would forever be a part of what she now was and forever
would be.

His manhood
slipped into her with frictionless ease like the closing mechanisms
of the bureau drawers. Reaching deep inside, he probed nuances of
her dark, viscous scabbard, with slow, deliberate strokes, while
she milked him with the unique musculature of her molten core. The
pace of his strokes increased. Burning air exhaled from both pairs
of ever more labored lungs.

Lorna locked
ankles and dug heels into the small of Ed’s perspiration-soaked
back, using the leverage to adjust her pelvis for perfect entry. He
reached pink folds of flesh in the fluid-soaked darkness no man had
ever touched. The growing tension within her released in a series
of silvery screams, along with pelvic contractions. With convulsive
shudders, he responded by spilling hot seed into her wanton
sheath.

For a long
time, he lay alongside. Under the weight of his stare, she filled
with contentment. For both of them, the act of love not only
relieved stress, but more important the uncertainty about the fate
of their relationship that had haunted them for the last few
weeks.

“I dreamt
about us,” she said sleepily, upon awakening. “We lived on Mars.
The children were grown. We were happy.”

The box spring
groaned when Ed turned to face her. “Children? When you said we
were a family, I assumed only one.”

Throwing back
the covers, she showed a flat, hard abdomen. “We have twins, a male
and female. Lycan females don’t mess around with single
births.”

Before she
could say more, Ed’s face erupted with happiness. “This coming from
the woman who never wanted to be a mother,” he said, laughing.

She reached up
to his cheek, which glowed with a serene pink flush. “This woman
has learned a lot since she said those words. The challenge is
greatest because they’ll be hybrids. All we can do is raise them
with love. If there’s a Bobby, we’ll make the best of it, dealing
with the grief the best we can.” Slowly she traced his profile with
the back of her hand.