"So are you going to answer my questions or what?" I started, folding my arms across my chest and frowning at him. I watched him turn up the heat and silently thanked him as I rubbed away the goose bumps from my arms.
"I'll do you one better," he answered simply.
"What does that mean?"
He shrugged. "I'm about to have a meeting with Christina; and wouldn't you know it? She requested your presence too."
I frowned at him. "Hmm, well then, I guess it's a good thing that I happened to run into you out in the middle of nowhere, isn't it? Who knows what would have happened if I hadn't."
He glanced at me and smiled innocently. "I would have come to get you."
I didn't lose my frown and suddenly felt annoyed that he seemed so comfortable, so nonchalant, especially when things between us weren't exactly kosher. "Why do I find that hard to believe?"
He faced the road as the Denali strained over the crest of the hill, a dust cloud spreading behind us once we were on the dirt path again. "Because you're naturally suspicious."
"At any rate," I grumbled, "what were you up to that required the cloak of darkness? What were you unloading in those crates?" Just call me nosy.
He glanced at me and smiled again, like this was some big game. "Liquid antidote to Draoidheil."
"Liquid antidote?" I repeated with surprise. Draoidheil, the illegal potion my father had planned on introducing to the streets of Splendor and surrounding areas (the import which I'd flubbed when I'd blown the cover of my father's plan) was the most addicting and potent potion currently available. One whiff caused hopeless addiction, and worse; being airborne, anyone within the immediate vicinity could become instantly addicted. As far as I knew, the only antidote to the miserable stuff was a little white pill. Apparently, however, I was wrong.
"Yep, liquids enter your blood stream faster," Knight responded.
"I'm aware of that," I grumbled as my attention returned to the number of crates Knight had just finished unloading. He'd easily unloaded ten crates that held probably twenty jars of the antidote. Obviously, Christina still considered the Draoidheil a big threat. "So you think my father is still going to try and attack us with the Draoidheil?"
He nodded. "It's the best threat your father has up his sleeve, which is why we're doing our best to distribute the antidote to everyone on this side." He glanced over at me and smiled. "We figured syrup was the easiest way to disguise it."
"Disguise it?" Then something dawned on me. "You mean you aren't telling people what it is? You're just pretending it’s pancake syrup?"
He shrugged as though it was no big deal at all. "Syrup is just one camouflage. It's also in the creamer, and any of the juices you find on all of our bases. It's even in the baked goods you see around. Apparently, it remains as potent baked as it does raw."
"Why aren't you telling anyone what they're consuming?"
"Ask yourself that question, Ms. Regulator," he answered with an expression that said I should already have figured that one out.
I frowned, aggravated that he'd donned his managerial cap. "Because you're afraid of moles."
He nodded and smiled at me handsomely. "Bingo. Trust no one—that's our motto."
"Well, you should be more careful about being inconspicuous when you're unloading the stuff," I replied gruffly.
"Touché," he said with a little laugh, which faded away as he faced me. "Dulce, I really hope you believed me when I told you I regretted everything that happened between us."
I shook my head. "I don't want to talk about it." I had way bigger, more important things on my mind.
"We aren't going to talk about it," he said resolutely. "I just want you to know that I can't get it out of my head; I can't get you out of my head."
I swallowed hard and focused on the bleak darkness outside my window.
FIVE
The "conference room," or so it was termed, wasn't located in Compound One. In fact, just where it was located I had no clue—it was hush-hush, as were the locations of the various other compounds within The Resistance. The fact that I’d even seen another compound (when Christina gave me a tour of the prison on Compound Three) was breaking news, well, according to Knight, anyway. Apparently, Christina took this undercover stuff pretty seriously because she refused to meet Knight and her team of Resistance officials in the same place twice. And, no one knew exactly where she spent her time holed up when she wasn't visiting the various compounds, much less where she slept at night. Knight also inferred that not even he knew where Christina's secret abode lay. According to rumors on base, she never stayed at any one location longer than thirty minutes. But I guess paranoia is survival’s best friend, so who was I to judge?
"So you think we actually have a chance in hell of defeating my father?" I asked, growing tired of the uncomfortable silence between us. It was like there were so many proverbial elephants in the room, er the SUV, that I felt claustrophobic, like I was slammed against the window between three trunks and a huge elephant’s ass, the air in the confined space evaporating into a vacuum.
"If I didn't think we had a chance in hell, I wouldn't be here," Knight answered rather crassly. I frowned, figuring I deserved that one because my question was a stupid one. Well, excuse the hell out of me for trying to break the incredibly awkward silence.
We were driving along a dirt road that led away from Compound One. We'd been driving for maybe twenty minutes before we hit another dirt road that led to the west of Compound One. After being on that seemingly endless stretch of nothing for another ten minutes, we hit a third dirt road, upon which we were now traveling.
"How do you even keep track of where you're going when there aren't any street names and everything looks the same?" I asked. Now, more than ever before, I was hell-bent on starting some sort of conversation that might prevent Knight from bringing up the "us" conversation again. In the last thirty minutes, he'd already attempted it twice.
"I've been doing this a long time," he answered tightly.
I was spared the need to respond when he suddenly stopped in the middle of the road, looking like he forgot something. He backed up maybe five feet and then stopped again, putting the Denali in park as he opened his door. A sudden and persistent beeping blared through the silence, telling us the door was left ajar. He ignored it and walked to the front of the SUV, the headlights bathing him in white light. Turning away from the lights, he held his arms out straight on either side of him, stretching them wide. Then he dropped his head back and closed his eyes. A split second later, he let his arms fall and turned around to face me, beckoning me forward with a wave of his hand. Although I found his display strange, I possessed neither the curiosity nor the energy required to investigate it. I just shrugged and unbuckled myself, jumping down from the Denali and walking toward him.
"Was that your best impression of Close Encounters of the Third Kind?" I asked with an irreverent laugh once I caught up to him.
He offered me an unimpressed raised eyebrow.
"Scanner just below that tree," he replied while jerking his head to the right. I followed his gaze and noticed a pine tree in close proximity to us, along with about twenty others. Given his less than precise directions, it wasn't a big wonder that I couldn't locate the so-called scanner.
"Well, if Rand McNally needs new recruits, I'd advise you not to apply," I said in an irritated tone.
I got the same unimpressed expression, this time with the opposite eyebrow raised. I just smiled pleasantly and waited for him to explain exactly what in the hell he was talking about. But instead of an explanation, he grabbed my hand and pulled me forward, until I was standing beside him, in the middle of the headlights.
"Stand here and stretch out your arms like I just did," he said hurriedly.
"Why?"
Knight rolled his eyes and shook his head as he exhaled a breath of visible exasperation. "Damn, Dulcie, just do it, will you? Do you always have to question everything?"
But I made no
move to do anything. It wasn't in my nature to blindly do as I was told. Instead, I glanced up at him and slowly crossed my arms against my chest, giving him a mirror image of the raised eyebrow expression he'd just so graciously shown me.
Knight shook his head again. "To get access to the Conference Room, everyone has to be scanned. It's protocol to make sure you don't have weapons on you."
"Was that so hard?" I demanded and stepped wide while I hoisted my arms in a perpendicular angle from my body, dropping my head back. I noticed a small lens that was hanging just below the immensely tall pine tree closest to us. It's not as though the scanner was attached to the tree, though. Nope, instead it was just hanging in the middle of thin air, obviously by some magical incantation. The point of using the tree was just to disguise the scanner and it worked incredibly well. The pine needles and branches managed to obscure the thing so perfectly, I had a hard time finding it, even after I knew what to look for.
Apparently recognizing me, the lens started shifting in an up and down motion, while emitting no sound at all. A red light at the very top of the scanner began to flash.
"Hold still," Knight said, evidently cognizant of the meaning of the red light.
Before I could say “boo,” the red light beamed against my forehead, suddenly spreading wide as if encompassing my whole body. Then it began running the length of my body, bathing me in a wide red laser light, from my eyes to my feet, and then back up again. Once it finished scanning me, it flashed green, which, I supposed, meant I was good to go. I dropped my arms and started forward, but Knight shook his head, holding me at bay.
"Gotta pat you down," he said in explanation.
"What?" I asked, pissed off that I was about to be subjected to more of this treatment. It just seemed like overkill and then some. I threw my hands on my hips. "Didn't that little scanner just prove I'm not packing anything?"
"Protocol," Knight answered evasively.
"This whole thing is ridiculous anyway, considering I'm on your side and have no interest in hurting anyone."
He shook his head. "Procedure is procedure." Realizing I wasn't buying his explanation, he continued. "I'm the number two guy in The Resistance and you just saw me get scanned, so what does that tell you?" He paused when I didn't respond. "It tells you that we take all this stuff very seriously; and besides, we won't be granted entrance unless we both subject ourselves to these security measures."
I glared at him, but said nothing. Instead, I just took a wide stance again and held my hands out straight on either side of my body, allowing him to frisk me. I wasn't sure if it was really protocol, or if he just wanted to touch me. As soon as the thought arose though, I realized how silly it was. Knight wasn't the kind of guy to go for cheap thrills. On the flipside, however, I was no dummy, and yes, this might be the usual protocol, but I also wasn't convinced that he wouldn’t enjoy it. I just hoped I wouldn't.
He stood in front of me with his eyes trained squarely on mine, and started running his hands down the tops of my arms very slowly.
"Um, I don't have sleeves, in case you didn't notice," I said snidely. I was referring to the fact that as I was still clad in my sports bra; it wasn't like I could conceal anything on my upper body.
But Knight didn't falter. He continued running his hands along the skin of my upper arms. "Magic has a funny way of tricking the eye," he said simply. He had a point—I mean, I could have a grenade strapped to my arm; but in using fairy magic, I'd be able to disguise it as nothing more than skin, silky smooth and uninterrupted—sort of like trick photography. 'Course, the question remained as to why I would even want to do something like that in the first place; not to mention what the point of this whole thing was. But I figured the answer would still remain the same: "protocol."
Upon reaching my shoulders, Knight rotated my arms around and started patting them, going north into my armpits. Once there, he held my arms up, beside my head, as he cupped each one. I assumed it was because they offered a handy little place to hide something (magically speaking, of course), if I were so inclined. After he seemed convinced I wasn't packing anything, he brought my arms back to my sides and ran the palms of his hands down the sides of my upper torso, to my waist before patting me around the middle of my upper stomach. Then he gripped my hips and gently turned me around until my butt was facing him. I wasn't sure why, but it made me nervous. I felt like a racehorse being sized up before a derby. It was probably just a matter of time before he inspected my teeth. He ran his hands up my legs after carefully patting down my shoes and fishing inside my sneakers as well as my socks with his index fingers. When he reached my thighs, I felt myself shudder and the goose bumps that suddenly arose on my naked skin had nothing to do with the chill in the air.
"I have to pat down your, uh, your butt," he said apologetically, as if preparing me for it. Or maybe he was preparing himself for it. As uncomfortable as I felt, he didn't look much better.
"I understand," I replied gruffly, my voice sounding somehow deeper than normal. It seemed like an eternity before he touched my butt. His touch was soft as he ran his hands across my backside, although what erupted inside of me was anything but soft. It felt like a volcano suddenly blowing its top while fiery lava pumped through me. Just at the touch of his hands along my backside, my whole body tensed, letting me know just how much I wanted him, no, yearned for him. I shut my eyes and tried to replace the intense feelings of lust with feelings of anger—trying to subdue my sexual needs with guilt over feeling them in the first place.
It didn't work.
Knight turned me around again. Sitting back on his haunches, he glanced up at me apologetically. "I have to do the same on this side."
I just nodded while hoping he couldn't read my eyes, which were shouting that I was melting under his touch. He started at the base of my stretch pants, where they met my socks and frisked me quickly, his hands moving upward, to my thighs and then my hipbones. When he reached my middle, he gripped each side of my waist, wrapping his large hands around me until I seemed to vanish underneath them. He didn't move his hands, but tightened his grip around my waist. About that time, I realized this had nothing to do with a weapons pat-down. His touch became heavier, almost as if he knew he shouldn't be doing it, but was unable to resist. The naked skin of my upper stomach, just above my stretch pants, suddenly felt as if it were on fire. It was a reaction to the sensation of his fingers as they brushed against me. The breath caught in my throat and I could already tell my eyes were wide.
Dulcie, wake up! I chided myself. What is wrong with you? Now is not the time for this!
But I couldn't honestly say I was paying any attention. Losing myself, I found Knight's eyes utterly intoxicating as he stared down at me. His hands were still wrapped around my waist and neither of us said anything, not one little, insignificant word. Apparently, neither of us could find our tongues. With our eyes still locked on each other and neither one emitting so much as a breath, I felt Knight's hands releasing my waist. His fingers skimmed my upper waist, to the junction of my arms, where they met my chest. He traced the line of my collarbone and paused just above my breasts. I nearly closed my eyes with the thought that I wanted nothing more than to feel his warm hands on my naked breasts, his fingers pinching my nipples. Thankfully, I managed to keep my eyes open. Somewhere in my overwhelmed mind, a little voice still urged me to keep my cool. But that isn't to say that I could open my mouth and demand Knight stop. For as much as that little, nagging Puritan inside me was still carrying on her one-person mission by decrying everything that was happening, a choir of voices rose up in unison, drowning out her voice by singing in glorious harmony how good this felt and how … right.
Once I felt Knight's palms moving below my collarbone and resting against my breasts, I had a feeling that the time for stopping was dripping through my fingers. He rested the flat of his hands above each of my breasts and stared down at me, his eyes glowing with a whiteness that told me just how excited he was. The glow in
Knight's eyes was primitive—an instinctual, animal-like reflex responsive only to me, and to my body. It was his way of broadcasting to the world that I belonged to him—a warning to other men to stay away from me or suffer the Loki consequences.
He pushed against my breasts, cupping his palms around them. I opened my mouth, trying to regain my wits enough to tell him to beat it; but that's not exactly what I said. Well, in all honesty, I didn't say anything at all. Nope, instead I ... moaned.
Even though it was only the very beginning of a moan, and more like a split second of a whimper, or a tiny mouse's squeak, that was all it took. Instantly, Knight thrust me toward him and kissed me. The touch of his lips on mine was like kerosene to fire. Whatever was building inside me broke through the weak dam that was restraining it and now took full dominion over my entire body. Without any hesitation whatsoever, I opened my mouth, allowing his tongue full access. But he didn't need any invitation. His tongue met mine violently and we lapped at each other with an incendiary urgency. He looped his hands around my shoulders and pulled me into him, into his hardened shaft. He was most definitely stirring beneath his pants, pressing against my navel. I met the thrusting of his tongue and we kissed one another with so much fervor, I wasn't sure where my mouth began and his ended.
He lifted me and carried me the few feet that separated us from the Denali and I was suddenly aware of the cold steel of the door against my back. The feel of the Denali beneath me was all it took for me to come to my senses, to come back to reality. It was as if the sharp coldness of the steel completely obviated the sexual waves of bliss that were previously consuming me. Instead, a montage of memories from the last time I got up close and personal with the Denali overtook me. However, those weren't memories that I cherished, by any stretch of the imagination. No, they left me feeling angry and depressed. Although the sex that night was one of the most passionate we'd ever had, it went well beyond angry and turned out to be one of the chief reasons I didn't know how to feel towards Knight.