"Welcome. Now, here's the fork." He held out his hand.
She shook her head. "No, thank you. That's for you."
"I'm not going to use a fork while you're stuck using your fingers. Take it."
"No."
He frowned but stuffed the utensil back into the bag. "Fine. We'll both be savages."
"Fine." After she'd taken a few bites of the most delicious meal of her life, she moaned and said, "Is there anything you can't do?" And maybe she was a savage, because she wanted to continue stuffing her face while she was talking--and she wanted to chew what remained of the meat off the bone. "You have no need for a chef at your farm."
"And yet I still want one," he muttered.
Did that mean what she thought it meant? That he still wanted Vika there? "Sweet" barely scratched the surface, she realized. "I want you to know, while we're on our journey, I'm not going to let you down or hold you back. I'll keep up, I promise."
"Don't push yourself too hard."
"I won't," she said, which was the truth. She planned to push herself way too hard. He'd only helped her. She wouldn't hinder him.
*
Solo finished eating and stuffed all the "necessities" back into the bag, as well as the blanket he'd stolen, and hefted the stupid thing over his shoulder, then one rifle, then the other. He would have given Vika one of the weapons, but no, that was never going to happen now. Not even if his life depended on it.
"I rigged a place for you to take care of any pressing needs you might have," he said, and watched as color once again brightened her cheeks.
"Thank you," she replied, comprehending. "But, uh . . . where is it?"
He pointed, enchanted by her unease for some reason. They'd spent six days together, trapped in a ten-by-ten cage. They'd gone over this type of thing. But his little Vika was prim and proper, he supposed--until he kissed her.
Any time he remembered their kiss, a fire ignited in his blood, and a deep awareness bloomed where primal instinct seethed. It was wonderful. . . . It was terrible. . . . He wanted her, but he couldn't have her. Not out here, in the open, where anyone else could stumble upon them.
At least he understood a little more about her now--and how much he'd misunderstood her in the beginning and even moments before. No wonder she'd always wanted to live on her own. No wonder she had wanted to spend the rest of her life alone. It was a miracle she'd ever allowed Solo to come near her.
Vika stood, stumbled through the snow, and soon disappeared behind a wall of winter leaves. The area was close enough that he could hear if anyone approached her, but far enough away that she would feel comfortable enough to do whatever she needed to do. Plus, a good number of trees would form a circle around her, shielding her from any prying eyes.
He dismantled the spit, put out the fire and scattered the rocks. He hid the evidence of their stay as best he could, and by the time he finished, Vika had returned.
"Are you sore?" he asked.
"Surprisingly, not too badly."
Good. "We're going to keep a brutal pace today. I checked our coordinates, and if we hurry, we can make it to the cabin a little after nightfall."
"I'm ready," she said, and she sounded as if she truly was.
He linked their fingers--something he was fond of doing. He liked knowing she was nearby. Liked knowing she trusted him enough to remain by his side.
They trudged forward, silent for the first hour.
"I have something to tell you," she said, "but you're not going to like it."
"You can tell me anything."
"Well . . . you see, there isn't a key to the cuffs. Jecis destroyed the only one, which kind of explains why I was never able to find it."
Kind of explained?
"I'm sorry!" she added.
No key, he thought, dazed by the realization, even though he should have guessed a long time ago. Jecis was just cruel enough, just smug enough, to do such a thing, uncaring about the lives he was ruining. Actually, happy about the lives he was ruining.
And Vika was waiting for a response from him. She expected him to rant and rave, most likely.
"Don't worry about it," he finally replied, and turned left, maneuvering around a small pond of ice. After a while, the drugs in the cuffs would run out. They would no longer be able to affect him. But . . . he still wanted them off. Never wanted anyone to have this kind of power over him again. Never wanted to be located by a few clicks of a computer.
He'd hoped to search for the key when he went back to rescue the otherworlders, but now, that would be unnecessary--one less thing to do. And really, this was probably for the best. Now he could remove the bands the moment he had Vika tucked safely away and knew Michael was on his way.
Michael, who should have found him by now.
But Solo still refused to believe his friends were dead. In their line of work, you had to see the body to believe. And even then it was iffy.
John was wily. Blue was a charmer. They were both survivors. No one could keep them down for long. And Solo, well, he was the fixer. He'd always been the problem solver and he would solve this.
Together, they had saved this world from many, many terrible people. Drug suppliers, human slavers, murderers, and those thinking to put together an army and rise up to power. The boys were due for a rescue of their own. And they would reap it, he assured himself. He would make sure of it.
For the next six hours, he was careful to avoid the areas with heavy wolf and bear tracks. And he did well, until a pack of wolves stepped to the edge of the cliff above him. He wanted to curse, but really, there was nothing he could have done. There'd been no tracks to avoid--because the animals had clearly been hunting him.
Bright yellow gazes scanned the daylight, diligently searching for the tasty treat that had been scented. Solo stopped and tossed a narrow glance at Vika, a demand for silence. She nodded to show she understood. He lifted her off her feet and carried her to the nearest boulder. He might outweigh her by more than a hundred and fifty pounds, but still his steps were lighter.
He set the bag at her feet and placed a swift kiss on her lips. Her eyes were wide, glazed with fear and fatigue, but she remained upright as he moved away from her. He was prouder of her with every second that passed.
A low, menacing growl split the air, followed by another.
The wolves had spotted him. Now they jumped, landing behind him in quick succession. He heard the thump of their paws, and could calculate the location of each.
Solo spun around, palming the rifle and squeezing off a shot. There was no loud bang, only a mild pop, the makeshift silencer doing its job. One creature stilled, his leg now sporting an open wound, while the others leapt at him. Rage engulfed him. Rage that these animals had placed his woman in danger, that they could have harmed her.
Just before contact, he morphed into his other form, making it impossible to use the rifle. He dropped the gun and grabbed two of the wolves by the scruffs of their necks, slamming them together, blocking one of their friends from his jugular. The other bounced to the ground, and he tossed the ones he held on top.
The remaining three had latched onto his legs and were chewing on his calves. Red dripped and splattered across the snow, scenting the air with a copper tang. He tossed one to the left, one to the right, and grabbed hold of the last. Lifting the creature high, he threw back his head and roared.
The others began to back away from him. He launched the one squirming in his grip, and the wolf slammed into its friends. No longer content to inch away, the entire pack turned tail and ran.
A strange sound behind him had him looking back, concerned. Vika stood in the very place he'd left her, but she was holding the gun X had told her to steal. And she was shaking, pale.
"I . . . I couldn't fire. I'm sorry. I tried. I wanted to help you, but I couldn't. I just couldn't, because all I could think about was One Day, and the way he looked at me when Jecis made me shoot him, and the others as they died, and I . . . I'm so, so sorry!
"
An apology. After everything she'd just witnessed. Once again, she wasn't disgusted by his fighting ability and the knowledge floored him.
He held his hands up, palms out and moved toward her. His nails retracted. "Sweetheart, it's okay. It's actually better that you didn't. You haven't practiced with a gun, and you could have shot me. Do you want to shoot me?"
"No!"
Gently he pried the gun from her kung fu grip and stuffed the barrel into the waist of his pants. He tugged her into his arms and held her, just held her as she cried, very glad he had allowed the wolves to live.
"I'm sorry. Now isn't the time for emotion." She lifted her head, revealing watery eyes that hurt his very soul. "I need to tend to your injuries."
"And you can, the moment we get to the cabin." He cupped her cheeks, his thumbs dusting away the tears that would always be his undoing. "I'm sorry for everything you've had to endure over the years, sweetheart."
She sniffled out a trembling, "Thank you. But Solo? If you were smart, you'd leave me behind. I know I've been trying my best to keep up, just as I promised, but I'm still dragging you down, aren't I?"
If you were smart, she'd said, obviously clueless about just how badly she'd insulted him.
Why did he want to smile?
"You would be miles and miles from here if you didn't have to worry about me," she continued. "Wouldn't you?"
Probably. "Body heat is important in weather like this." Not for him, though. Solo didn't experience cold the same way the humans did. Still he said, "Maybe you're saving me from frostbite. Maybe you're saving me from dying of boredom. You're quite entertaining."
That mollified her somewhat, and she fiddled with the collar of his shirt. "You're right. I'm sure I am saving you. And by the way, you're welcome."
"Well, it's about time you two started trusting each other," a familiar voice said. "It was the lipstick, wasn't it? I knew you wouldn't be able to resist her."
Solo didn't have to look to know that X had just landed on his shoulder. "Where have you been?"
Vika frowned up at him. "Right here."
"X," he said with a shake of his head.
"Really?" She looked right. She looked left. "Where is he?"
"You can't see or hear him?"
"No."
"Why can't she see or hear you right now?" he asked X.
"I am only able to manifest to one person at a time. And to answer your earlier question, I have been recharging. I've had to do that a lot lately."
"It's taking you longer than usual."
"I'm using more energy than usual."
"Where did you go, anyway?"
X looked down, kicked out a sandaled foot. "You know I will not tell you where."
No, he never did. Still, "thank you" hardly seemed adequate. "I owe you."
"And I'll collect, I'm sure," the little man said with a grin.
But he wouldn't. He never did.
Why did Solo suddenly feel like ruffling the male's hair? "Where's Dr. E?" And how odd to have this conversation in front of someone. He'd never done that before.
"He's somewhere nearby, that's all I know. I plan to hunt him down. But first . . ." He walked down Solo's arm and stopped at the metal bands around his wrists. He peered inside the keyhole, mumbled to himself and nodded. "If I could heal the wounds the wolves left behind or open the cuffs, which would you prefer?"
"I think that's the stupidest thing you've ever said."
X laughed. "Noted. This might take me a while, since I have to disable the motor in the needles to prevent you from losing your hands." Then he placed his own hands inside the keyhole and a bright light erupted from him, almost blinding Solo with its intensity.
One minute passed. Two. Three. Finally, the cuffs disengaged. The bands remained attached to his wrists, the needles still embedded in his bone, but all he had to do was rip out each of the needles, causing sharp pains to lance through his arm, and he was free. Sweetly, blessedly free, able to keep both of his hands.
Vika gasped with delight.
"If you had the power to do this," Solo said to X, "why didn't you do it before?"
"It was the circus. The black magic. My power was limited."
That, he understood.
Again, "thank you" hardly seemed adequate. "X . . . I don't have the words."
"I don't want words. I have only ever wanted to see you happy and settled, Solo. I hope you know that."
X loved him, Solo realized. Really loved him. He'd thought Mary Elizabeth and Jacob Judah were the only ones, but no. He'd always had X, he just hadn't known it. And he totally should have known, should have looked deeper than the surface. But he'd been so blinded by his problems and his distorted expectations.
"I do," he finally said. "I really do."
"Then do whatever proves necessary to stay that way, eh?" X said, and vanished to recharge.
Next time I see him, I'm going to kiss him on the mouth.
"Oh, Solo," Vika said, jumping up and down and clapping. "How wonderful! Jecis will never be able to find you now."
But Solo would find him, he vowed to himself, and that was a vow he would not break. "Come on, sweetheart. Only eight more hours of travel to go."
A little whimper escaped her, but all she said was, "Tomorrow, while we're in the cabin, I get to plan the day's activities."
"As long as those activities include a bed."
Maybe she knew what he meant. Maybe she didn't.
"Deal," she said, and grinned as sweetly as sugar--as playfully as a kitten. Sealing her fate.
Twenty-six
O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the secret place of the steep pathway, let me see your form, let me hear your voice. For your voice is sweet, and your form is lovely.
--SONG OF SOLOMON 2:14
FINALLY!
The cabin came into view, small and partially hidden by trees and snow.
Solo knew there would be a security box somewhere on the property and searched every inch in a thirty-foot perimeter, until he found it inside the trunk of a tree. He had to scrape off the ice with his claws, proving no one had been here in a while, and punched in his personal code.
Blue and yellow lights flashed, signaling that the traps set along the borders had been disabled.
Next, he typed in the code for information. It had been six months since an agent had entered the premises, and four weeks since one of the trip wires had been activated, sending bolts of electricity through the offender's entire body. Either a human had gotten a little too close or an animal had stalked his dinner a little too long.
"Sleep now?" Vika asked.
Her words were slurred, the poor darling. He had showed no mercy, had stopped only twice to make sure she ate the extra meat he'd packed, and drank the water he melted for her.
"Sleep now," he replied, and swooped her up in his arms.
Her head rested on his shoulder, her body instantly going limp.
He got her inside, in the warmth. The furnishings were quaint and homey, here for comfort rather than war. A long cloth couch. A love seat. A recliner. A coffee table with old magazines spread over the surface. He was glad. He wanted Vika calm and at ease here.
He entered the master bedroom but bypassed the queen-size bed. In the bathroom suite, he stepped into the shower stall. At the circus, she had used a cheap, wet enzyme spray to clean the captives. That's why she'd had to move their clothing aside and use rags. Here, with the more expensive dry enzyme, the removal of clothing was unnecessary.
His weight on the tiles triggered the automatic switch, and the spray began to mist over them, cleaning them inside and out, as well as their clothing. His skin tingled, and a minty taste even coated his tongue.
That done, he entered the bedroom and settled Vika atop the soft mattress. A mass of pale hair spilled over the pillow, and a soft sigh parted her lips. She curled to her side. He couldn't help himself. He reached out, traced his fingers along the curve of her ear. She was such
a stubborn woman. Such a beautiful woman.
His woman.
He removed her coat and tucked the covers around her. His fingers ghosted over the diamond choker he'd left on her. The stones were cold but pretty, and he wished he had bought the jewelry for her. Still, something about seeing so delicate a woman wearing it tempted the animal inside him. The animal he would have denied with his dying breath only a few days ago.
The animal he'd once hated.
Somehow, his biggest fault had become his greatest asset. He hadn't used his strength to intentionally harm but to protect someone precious. And she was precious, wasn't she? Precious to him in so many ways.
The need he had for her spun into the most sublime sense of satisfaction as he realized he would finally be able to have her. In every way. No interruptions. No distractions. No danger. And she was ready for him. He knew she was. Last time . . . the way she'd moved . . .
And then, this morning . . .
"Still frustrated?" he'd asked her.
"Maybe," she'd snipped.
He'd worked her up but hadn't given her any kind of release.
"Soon," he promised her now, even though she couldn't hear him. He placed a kiss on her forehead and stalked quietly through the house. It was two stories, though the second story was underground and only a trained eye would be able to find the doorway to below.
The heat was already on, the air warm, but he started a fire in the hearth in the living room anyway. The kitchen was small, with granite counters; cherrywood cabinets held enough boxed and canned food to see a family of four through a few months of seclusion. There was only the one bedroom. The other had been turned into an office.
An office Solo took over. He claimed the only chair in front of the wall of computers, and started typing on the center keyboard, reengaging the traps outside. He sent a message to Michael, John, and Blue, waited five minutes, ten, but no response was forthcoming from any of the three. He would check again after he ate, he decided.
The pantry was stocked with even more canned food, and he devoured an entire gallon of chicken noodle soup. And . . . still no response from the boys.
That didn't mean anything, he assured himself.
He padded to the bedroom, eased onto the mattress, and tugged Vika into his side. She didn't wake, but she did mold herself against him. He anchored a hand in her hair and a hand on her bottom, loving how perfectly they fit together.