Ivy thought of the Eldridge book that Sascha had shared with the group. In the past, while some empaths had helped those with terrible mental illnesses, others had worked as school counselors or even in corporate offices. Es covered as wide a spectrum as any other designation.
It appeared Penn’s mind had tracked the same path, because the big man stared at Isaiah, his accent heavy as he said, “Not everyone’s meant to be a soldier. Doesn’t mean what they have to offer isn’t of value.”
Shoulders tense, Isaiah didn’t respond, but left a minute later. He returned with his hand holding Concetta’s five minutes after that. In the end, the decision to leave the compound to head into infected zones was unanimous. It didn’t take much longer to confirm partnerships. Penn ended up with Isaiah and Concetta, since Concetta was obviously not built to handle the infection directly. She’d instead focus on the victims, see if she could help ease their trauma.
“This’ll be our last night together then,” Chang said, after everything was settled. “I suggest we have dinner together. All of us, empaths and Arrows.”
That was what they did, bringing extra chairs into the Arrow cabin. The Arrows were quiet, but no longer silent as they’d been at the start, all of them adding their thoughts to the intense discussion about possible tactics.
The Arrows’ security responsibilities meant they rotated in and out, and whenever Vasic was outside, Ivy missed him until she couldn’t breathe. Jaya, Abbot, you, and I are to be stationed in New York, she told him telepathically. One of the others has family in Alaska and requested Anchorage. That had originally been Ivy’s intended destination.
I’ll arrange apartments near the street that suffered the outbreak today.
Thank you.
It’s my job, Ivy. There’s no need to thank me.
Her nails pricked her palms. Is that all I am to you? A job?
Why would you ask me a question to which you already know the answer?
She thought of his arms around her, of the tender way he had of cradling the back of her head . . . and she allowed herself to think of the ugly thing she’d never forgotten. That the man who held her with such care had a ticking time bomb on his arm.
Ivy?
I’m mad at you, she said, panic and nausea twisting inside her. Be quiet.
When he rotated inside a half hour later, he attempted to catch her eye. Scared for and angry with him for having made a decision that could end them before they began, she kept her gaze stubbornly on the others. When the talk finally faded, she got up and headed to her cabin, Rabbit bounding up ahead and Vasic a silent shadow by her side.
“Don’t be silly,” she snapped when he went to take a watch position on the porch. “It’s snowing.” The sharp words dripped crimson with her own heartsblood, the sheer unfairness of the blade hanging over Vasic’s neck making her want to rage and scream and throw things in useless fury.
He came into the kitchen, held up the wall while she stomped around packing up her belongings. It didn’t take long, and then she could no longer avoid looking at the horrible thing on his arm, the thing that was killing him.
“If I can’t undo this, will you be angry with me till the end?”
The quiet question broke her. “No,” she whispered, throat raw. “I just need to be angry first.” Before she sank into him, so deep that he’d leave a tattoo of himself on her cells, the memory one that would never fade.
“Would you like to go somewhere?”
She jerked up her head from where she was writing his name over and over on the counter with a fingertip. “What?”
“I’m off shift for the next six hours.”
“Yes.” Trying to think past the storm of anger and agony inside her, she looked down at her jeans and favorite white cowl-neck sweater, having taken off his jacket when she’d entered the cabin. “Am I dressed okay?”
“Yes.” He stepped closer. “Would you like to bring Rabbit?”
God, how could this incredible man ever have thought himself so beyond redemption that he’d volunteered for an experiment that was a death sentence? Stifling the words because she didn’t want to fight with him anymore, she said, “He’d enjoy the adventure.” Bending down, she gathered her pet in her arms. “Ready.”
“Close your eyes.” A pause, his fingers rising to just barely graze her hair. “Please.”
Charmed and heartbroken, she did so, felt the slight psychic shimmer of a teleport. When Vasic murmured, “Open,” she lifted her lashes to find herself atop a sand dune, amidst a stunning sea of rolling sands spotlit by a huge silver moon.
A gasp escaped her, pure wonder in her blood. She’d never been anywhere near a desert except for those fleeting instants the previous night when Vasic had lost control. “It’s cold!” she said as Rabbit jumped out of her arms.
“Temperatures drop steeply at night here.”
Utterly mesmerized, she sat down on the fine, fine sand, while Rabbit sniffed suspiciously at the unfamiliar environment before racing down the dune. “I’ve never seen such an enormous moon.” She could almost reach out and touch it, it sat so heavily in the sky.
Sitting down beside her, Vasic said, “I come here to think.”
“I understand.” It was peaceful without being barren. The silica glittered under the moonlight, a gentle breeze played with the rare clumps of grasses she could see in the distance, and the dunes threw smudged moon shadows that turned the landscape into an oil painting. “Thank you for showing me,” she said, watching Rabbit chase imaginary prey below them.
They sat in silence for several minutes. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, the haunting beauty of the night not enough to make Ivy forget what Vasic had done. It was stupid to feel betrayed, but she did. He should’ve known, should’ve waited for her to find him, cried a stubborn, irrational part of her.
“Are you still angry?”
Her anger crumbled. Leaning her head against his arm, she said, “I’m sorry for taking out my temper on you.”
Vasic put his gauntleted arm around her shoulders. “I wish I’d met you ten years ago.”
His words destroyed her, they carried such loss, such tightly held pain. What, she thought with a stab of fury, had her strong, wounded, beautiful man been forced to do in those ten years? She didn’t ask, unwilling to contaminate his haven with such terrible memories. “Look,” she said instead, “Rabbit’s trying to climb up the dune.” Her poor little dog kept sliding down, unable to figure out how to make the sand behave.
Face set in increasingly stubborn lines, Rabbit continued to try in an adorable display of will. “Come on,” she said to her pet, “you can do it. You can do it, Rabbit.”
And then he was scrambling up, slowly but surely. She slapped Vasic lightly on the chest. “You’re helping him.”
“It seems only fair since I brought him here.”
Rabbit flopped down beside them seconds later, his eyes closed and tail wagging slowly as he rested from his labors. Ivy went to pet him when Vasic stood, slightly unbalancing her. She braced her hand on the sand, looked up. “Do we have to leave?”
He shook his head and came back down . . . except this time, he sat behind her, his legs on either side of her own and his chest a hard wall at her back. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close. She didn’t shy away from the gauntlet; the malfunctioning piece of technology was part of Vasic and as angry as it made her, never would she reject him in any way.
At this second, however, her focus wasn’t on the hardware. Neither was it on the stunning landscape. Not with her body deliciously imprisoned by the muscled heat of his. Pulse racing as a fine sheen of perspiration broke out over her skin, she whispered, “Vasic.”
His breath was hot against her neck as he leaned down . . . and then she felt his lips brushing over the place where her pulse jumped. Whimpering, she gripped at his thighs. The muscles in his forearm tightened in response, pushing up her breasts, but he didn’t intensify the intimacy, didn’t reach up to squeeze her needy flesh, tug at her nipples.