Knight Awakening (The Scorpius Syndrome Book 6) Page 10

  She blinked. Once and again. Then she released his hand and pushed it off her thigh. Color finally returned to her face. “I didn’t ask you for anything.”

  If making her mad would keep her safe, he’d do it. “I’ll take you up to your apartment.” He needed to get his gun and knives from his place before he went hunting the two missing Rippers. While he didn’t usually use a gun, he might need one with two Rippers.

  “No. I’ll stay here in case we get wounded.” She moved to jump off the table.

  “No.” He stepped into her, keeping her where he’d put her. “Even if you lock the back door, the entrance from the would be easy to breach. You need to be secured in your apartment, with a gun in your hands, until we find these two.”

  So far, the day had remained quiet with no shots fired. Where would two Rippers go inside the territory? He held out a hand to help her down.

  She took a deep breath, not quite meeting his gaze this time. “I’m going to do my job, Marcus. Right now, that means I stay here and prepare for wounded, since there will be some.”

  Huh. This was all getting too damn mixed up. If he asked her nicely, she wouldn’t go. If he put his hands on her again, he might not be able to take them off. The kiss from the other day haunted his brain, screwed with his body, and he needed some distance. But he couldn’t stay away. What in the hell should he do right now?

  Movement sounded, and Lynne and Vinnie came into view in the doorway, both with guns in their hands.

  Marcus pivoted to put his body between them and Penny out of pure instinct.

  Penny swallowed. “You two loaded for bear?”

  Vinnie grinned. “Yeah. We figured you’d need help getting ready for wounded, so we’ll all hole up here.”

  “I’ll lock the back door,” Lynne said, her eyes a determined emerald green today. “I have work to do with those vials of Vitamin B you brought from the inner hospital, anyway. There are two guards on the entrance from the cafeteria, so we’re okay there.”

  Marcus’s eyebrows rose. So long as the door was guarded, he couldn’t force Penny to her apartment, although part of him wanted to lock her down in safety, anyway. But he knew better, and since he’d just turned down whatever she’d offered, he didn’t have the right to ask her for a favor. Not that she’d offered. She was just emotional and lost after losing her friend and hadn’t been thinking. A woman like her was way too smart to get involved with a nutjob like him. “Do you have a gun?”

  She nodded. “There’s another one in Lynne’s office. I’ll get that one.”

  He paused. “Do you know how to shoot?”

  “Of course.” Penny pushed off the table, barely looking at him. “Be careful out there.”

  If that wasn’t a dismissal, he didn’t know what would be. He nodded and turned for the hallway and the back door, which Lynn had just locked. He’d worry about his gun and knives later—right now he had to get out of there. “Relock it,” he ordered, ignoring her curious look.

  With that, he walked out into the rain, hoping he was the one who found the Rippers.

  He could use a good fight.

  14

  I hate my dreams. This is still not a journal.

  —Marcus Knight, Still Not a Journal

  His entire body hurt. Marcus sank to the floor outside his apartment, rain sliding from his hair to his already soaked shirt. He extended his legs as quietly as he could and crossed his ankles. The wet denim rubbed against his skin, but he ignored it, not wanting to make any noise and awaken Penny.

  For hours, he’d helped search Vanguard territory, which had included a burned-down building with unstable bricks. It was amazing he was still alive after having a pile fall on him. They’d found a hole cut into the fence in the Northeast corner of the territory, but his gut kept insisting the Rippers were close. After he slept for a while, he’d go looking again.

  His eyelids closed, and he fought sleep, but once again, he lost.

  He was back in the labs. The yellow metal door tortured him with the idea of sunshine and flowers. Yellow had always been a pretty color, but now it was the only barrier between him and more pain. More experiments and blood and death. Had he killed that Ripper the other day, or had that been another dream? He couldn’t get it straight. What was real and what was just in his head?

  Why couldn’t he crawl into his head and just stay there?

  His bunk was cold. He looked down to see just metal with no mattress. Didn’t he used to have a mattress? Maybe that was in the place with the purple door. His hands were bloody. Was that his blood or somebody else’s? The room tilted and then settled. He blinked and then tried to focus, but that yellow door kept glaring at him.

  Then it opened, like the jaws of a monster from days gone by.

  He was the monster now.

  The door opened, and she walked inside, flanked by men with tranquilizer guns and tasers set to high. He knew. They’d used them on him more than once. Everything inside him went cold.

  She smiled, once again wearing white pants and a pressed white shirt. The color of innocence didn’t belong on her. “Marcus. You did a good job earlier with that Ripper. Aren’t you a good pet?” She held a tray in her hands, which she slid onto his bunk, her nails a bright red and sharpened to daggers.

  He didn’t move.

  “Eat up, boy. You’ll need your protein,” she purred, her blond hair twisted in a knot he could grab and choke her with. “What’s my name?” she asked.

  He frowned. What was her name?

  Her frown created wrinkles by the sides of her eyes. She motioned at one of the soldiers, who pressed a button on his taser. The leads shot out, attaching to Marcus’s neck. The jolt of electricity was shocking, and he stiffened, his eyes rolling back in his head. His body convulsed, and he planted a hand on the bed, breathing through the pain.

  Finally, the thing went limp and he yanked off the leads.

  She smiled and breathed in, her eyes lighting up. Red infused her cheeks. “My, but you’re something, aren’t you?” Lust danced in her eyes.

  He tried not to puke.

  “My name?” she asked.

  Calling her Queen Bitch would get him tased again. So he remained quiet, counting the tiles in the floor without looking at them.

  She smiled again. “You are a tough one to break, aren’t you? My name is Georgia. Tase him again.”

  The jolt this time threw him into unconsciousness, and he welcomed the darkness as if he were home. He awoke later, hours or maybe days, sitting up on the metal bed.

  Raspberries, wild and free, surrounded him. He paused. “Penny?”

  She sat across the room, her dark hair down around her shoulders, her chin against her chest. On the floor, she looked petite and helpless. Fragile to the point that he couldn’t breathe.

  He tried to reach for her, but he couldn’t move. An invisible force secured him to the bunk. His limbs were useless. “Penny,” he said, putting bite into his voice.

  Nothing. She didn’t so much as stir. He looked closer, straining to get to her until he felt his ribs crack. One by one, they cracked, and he welcomed the pain. She was so close but not moving. Was she breathing? He whimpered, not caring about the weakness that showed. Why wouldn’t she look up?

  The yellow door opened, and Georgia walked inside. She wore high heels this time. “What do we have here?” Her leg lifted, and she kicked Penny in the thigh with the point of her shoe.

  Penny’s head rolled to the side, and she fell.

  “Oh. Dead,” Georgia said, turning to him and shrugging. “I didn’t figure you’d kill her.”

  No, no, no. Marcus roared out a denial, bellowing Penny’s name. He’d known he was bad for her, and now he’d killed her? Why? Why hadn’t he just killed himself? Pain, unlike anything he’d experienced even at the worst, shredded him from the inside out. He yelled her name again just to hear it one more time.

  “Marcus.” Something hit his shoulder. “Wake up. For goodness sakes. Wake up.”r />
  Raspberries filled his senses, and he opened his eyes. “Penny?”

  She crouched at his side in the hallway, wearing only a pink cami and matching shorts, her hair on top of her head. The bandage looked wrong on her neck. A lantern sat by her knee, illuminating her stunning face from below. “You were having a nightmare. Take a deep breath.”

  He was still wet from the rain.

  A couple of doors opened down the hallway. Most folks were out searching, or there would be more.

  Larry Sowers, one of the foot soldiers, frowned. “You have to get out of here.” He was about thirty and thick through the chest, while rumor had it he was excellent with a knife. “I’m done with this.” He shoved a rough hand through his blond hair, his blue eyes pissed.

  “He’s okay.” Penny pulled Marcus up, grunting with the effort. “I’ll get him out of the hallway.” She reached around Marcus and twisted his doorknob, all but pushing him inside his apartment.

  Then she followed him.

  He had screamed her name. Penelope looked around the barren living area of Marcus’s apartment, which was lit with the meager light from the one lantern. Only a torn faux-leather sofa took up residence in the spartan room. She turned him around and prodded him toward the one bedroom, where she picked a towel up off the floor. “Take off your shirt. You’re soaked.”

  She set the lantern on an overturned box.

  When he didn’t comply soon enough, she tugged his shirt over his head. He ducked so she wouldn’t choke him. “There.” She wiped his wet chest with the towel, and he allowed her, his heart thundering beneath her hands. “Turn,” she whispered.

  Tears tried to well in her eyes at the damage done to his chest and back, but she’d stitched several of the wounds up herself.

  He was quiet, almost too quiet.

  “Come out of it, Marcus.” She scrubbed more vigorously.

  His head dropped, and more water fell to the floor. “You smell like raspberries.”

  She stretched up on her toes, rubbing the towel through his hair. He’d let it grow out since they’d escaped the Bunker, and the strands were thick with a hint of curl. “There you go,” she said.

  He turned to face her, standing tall and broad between her and the door. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

  “That’s okay.” If she stepped back, she’d be on the bed. There was only a sheet covering the large mattress, but a comforter had been draped across the bottom edge. She’d been facing her own demons tonight and wondered if she could help with his. Maybe make herself forget what the next day would bring. “Want to tell me about the dream?”

  “No.” A lock of damp hair fell on his forehead, and she reached up to push it away.

  He stilled, breathing out. In the semi-darkness, he loomed like a massive predator, his lighter eyes glittering through the night.

  Lightning struck outside, and she jumped. The smell of ozone filtered in through the open window in the bedroom, and the rain fell harder, pounding the cement outside. “Um, did you all find the Rippers?”

  “No.” He still didn’t move.

  Nerves flickered to life beneath her skin. “Marcus?”

  He barely breathed. “Are you real?”

  “Yes.” She couldn’t stop herself from planting both hands on his upper chest. “I’m real. See?” Was he still caught in the nightmare? “You’re awake. Take another deep breath.” The sheer play of raw muscle beneath her palms set her blood pumping faster, and she shook herself back to the moment. “Let me check your pulse.”

  “No. I don’t want a doctor, Penny.”

  She swallowed. “What do you want?” If her nerves weren’t misfiring in every direction, she’d wince at the coyness of that question.

  He reached out, smoothing one knuckle down the side of her face. “I would never hurt you.”

  “I know,” she whispered, leaning into his touch.

  “I don’t want to scare you.” He continued the caress along her jawline.

  She swallowed, her knees wobbling. “You don’t.”

  He dropped his hand. “I would. You don’t understand. I can’t do this—have you—and be casual. I can’t be like everyone else. You’re all I think about now. If you let me in, if you let me have more, I can’t hold it back.” He clenched his fingers into fists. “I can’t hold myself back.”

  Being his absolute focus was almost an aphrodisiac. How goofed up was that? She knew she couldn’t save him, but everything inside her wanted to ease his pain. “We can’t keep going on like we are,” she said, sliding her hands along his chest and down his abs, counting each impossible ridge. How was he even real? “It’s too hard. We’re circling each other, trying to act normal, and there’s all of this beneath the surface. I can’t do it any longer.”

  “What are you saying?” His voice lowered to a tone that licked along her skin.

  She blinked several times, trying to concentrate. “I want you, you want me, and I’m willing to take the risk.” Life was too short to play it safe. There was no safe.

  “I can’t give you what you want,” he said, his hands relaxing.

  “What if I just want you?” She tucked her fingers in the waist of his jeans, and he sucked in air, the muscles working against her fingers. “I’m not looking for gushy feelings or even a future. This attraction is a distraction for each other, and that’s probably going to get one of us killed.” He was like a wounded animal afraid to reach out—afraid he’d get hurt. Or maybe he was afraid he’d hurt her. “I’m a big girl, Marcus. I don’t need you making my decisions for me.”

  He jerked his head. “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. Do you want me or not?”

  “Yes.” The word sounded tortured. “Of course I do. It’d be impossible not to want you.”

  The stark honesty in the statement touched her deeper than she liked. “Then how about we make a deal? I won’t ask you to give any more than you can, and you do the same? Don’t expect me to change my life and hide in a closet from all danger, and I won’t ask you for feelings?”

  “This isn’t real.”

  She chuckled, her body too hot. “I’m not going to tease you or take advantage of this confusion.” Her palms felt empty when she dropped them from his warrior’s body and took a step back. The bed rested against the back of her thighs. “It’s your decision, Marcus. If you want me to leave, I will.” The idea of spending a lonely, unfulfilled night in her smaller bed made her solar plexus ache like she’d been punched.

  He didn’t answer and continued to just stare at her, his gaze heated.

  Her face warmed. “All right. I guess I’ll go.” The hit to the ego wasn’t nearly as bad as the one to her heart. Maybe it was a good thing he’d refused her.

  Then he moved.

  Faster than she would’ve ever expected, he tangled a hand in her hair, tucked one around her hip, and took her mouth. Hard and fierce, holding nothing back, he showed her why he’d been reticent.

  He gave her everything.

  15

  I’ve never thought that attraction or love held a lot of rationality to them, and I also think people are drawn together for reasons only they can feel and understand. I’m okay with that.

  --Dr. Penelope Kim, Journal

  The woman tasted like everything that could possibly be good in life, topped with raspberries. His mind shut off, and he stopped trying to be something he wasn’t. A good guy. So he kissed her, seeking, wanting to know more of her. Wanting to have all of her.

  Thunder ripped the peace apart outside, and lightning flashed, hot and bright. The smell of ozone only spurred him on. Desperation and hunger, fierce in their intensity, slaked him. Full and complete. For the first time, he didn’t fight either. They took him, and he took her.

  He twisted his wrist in her silky hair, forcing her head back so he could get more leverage. The animal he’d become, the one he’d tried to hide from everybody, rose to the surface for her. Only for her.

  Needy gasps escaped h
er and she kissed him back, her lips so soft beneath his she had to be a dream.

  But she wasn’t. Penny Kim was in his arms, plastered against him, letting him kiss her. If miracles existed, this would be one. The thought was gone as fast as it had arrived.

  There was only right now and right here and the woman he’d wanted from the first moment he’d met her. She was too good, too kind, too perfect for the likes of him, and he was done with that fight. Couldn’t do it any longer. The second she’d touched his chest, since she’d so honestly offered herself to him, the battle was over. Nobody was strong enough to fight that kind of pull.

  He wasn’t a decent guy, and he was done trying to do the right thing. He wasn’t even sure what the right thing was any longer.

  This felt right. It felt good. For the first time in so long, he just felt.

  He released her mouth to draw her cami over her head, going slow and letting the pads of his fingers brush her satiny skin. Her breasts were small and firm, and her nipples a delicious beige color like a new doe. She was perfect and so damn fragile his hands shook.

  “Penny.” He brushed his free hand across her clavicle and between her breasts, his skin rough compared to hers. God, she was beautiful.

  He released her hair to grasp her hips, lifting her easily.

  She gasped, her thighs widening and clamping against his rib cage, her hands dropping his shoulders.

  He lifted her higher, to his mouth, and suckled one erect nipple into his mouth. She arched against him, her moan spurring him on. He sucked. Hard.

  Her fingers curled into his shoulders, her nails biting. She threw her head back, held aloft in his arms, the absolute trust in the moment striking straight to his heart.

  His body rioted, head to toe, filling with a heat that burned with an unfamiliar pain. One that had his hands tightening on her hips and his legs moving for the bed. He moved to the other breast, nipping lightly, careful not to mark her. She was too perfect to mark.