Malcolm kissed Rose, and felt her lips passionately moving in response to his. She was softly moaning as he moved inside of her, and the noise had a hint of emotion to it.
It’s not just me. Rose is uneasy about what her past could hold, and what it could take away from her.
Malcolm kissed her deeply, pulling his hands back from hers and breaking the shadow bonds. He groped at her breasts, pushing into her with all the energy he could summon. Pleasure echoed through him in time with the hard rhythm of their sweaty bodies, and he savored it.
In the relatively short time that he and Rose had known each other, they’d been friends, enemies, and lovers. There was an emotional momentum to their relationship that couldn’t be denied. Malcolm felt the fear of losing her, and it pushed him to give her more of himself. He slammed into her roughly, almost too hard. Rose cried out in ecstasy.
He kept going, even as he felt her muscles releasing tension, and Rose melting back into the bed. He kissed her deeply, spearing into her, questions reverberating in his head. So what if she was another man’s fiancée? Wasn’t she naked, in Malcolm’s bed? Willing and open, both sexually and emotionally.
The illicit thought sent tingles of arousal through him. Malcolm pumped into Rose harder, letting his rhythm intensify until his body began to overheat, like the engine of a car pushed too fast and too far. He leaned his head against the nape of her neck as he unloaded, and felt her wrap her legs around him, locking him in.
“I’m here,” whispered Rose. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Malcolm heard her words, and believed them.
CHAPTER 14
Malcolm fell asleep with Rose still in his arms. At some point during the night, he was dimly aware of her rising and pulling her clothes back on. She sat down next to him on the mattress and kissed him on the forehead.
“I’m going to meet with him tomorrow at four,” whispered Rose. “You are welcome to come with me, if you’re worried. I mean it.”
She kissed him again in the same spot and ran her hands through his hair affectionately. Malcolm feigned sleep, and listened as she walked across the room and climbed up the ladder and out the hatch.
He managed to get a few more hours of sleep, and woke up feeling rested. His shoulder wound was aching, but in a good way that told him he was healing. He changed the bandage and ate a couple of granola bars from his dwindling pantry.
Malcolm’s mind was still on Rose and her fiancé, but he forced it in a different direction. Multi was still as much of a threat to him and the city as ever. He thought back to the previous day, remembering both the encounter on the bus and Shield Maiden’s intel. He texted Second Wind.
MALCOLM: Interested in stopping a fertilizer truck heist this morning?
A couple minutes went by.
SECOND WIND: Will it stop Multi from shitting Vanderbrook up?
MALCOLM: Yes.
SECOND WIND: Then yes.
Malcolm left and met up with his copy in their usual spot in the park across from his old apartment. It felt very strange watching Second Wind walk out from his apartment’s entrance, almost as though he was having an out of body experience.
Despite the relatively upbeat tone of the replies he’d sent Malcolm through text, Second Wind looked tired and stressed. Malcolm frowned as he walked toward him. Second Wind looked away when their eyes met.
“You don’t look so good,” said Malcolm.
“Lack of sleep,” said Second Wind. “So… Fertilizer? That seems like a relatively pedestrian way for Multi to make his bombs, given his background.”
Malcolm nodded, but recognized his own tactic of changing the subject by bringing up work.
“What happened to make you miss out on getting enough sleep?” he asked.
Second Wind shrugged.
“Too much thinking, not enough drinking.”
Malcolm rolled his eyes.
“Funny,” he said. “Seriously. What’s on your mind?”
Second Wind gave him an odd look. He was trying to keep his expression neutral, but Malcolm could see anger brewing underneath the surface.
“Shouldn’t you know?” asked Second Wind. “You’re me. The original. Shouldn’t you have a perfect understanding of how I’m feeling?”
Malcolm raised an eyebrow.
Am I equally transparent when I get into a sulky mood?
“Okay,” he said, feeling a bit testy. “You’re in a bad mood, and you’re me. Were they out of classic crust frozen pizzas at the grocery store?”
Malcolm wasn’t sure if he’d meant it as a barb or a joke, but Second Wind didn’t seem to take it as either. He just shrugged and looked away from Malcolm, signaling that the conversation on this topic was over, for now.
“I got shot,” Malcolm admitted. “A second time, after the shoulder graze Tapestry gave me.”
He forced a cheery smile onto his face and gestured to his shoulder.
“Jesus, man,” said Second Wind. “By who?”
“The police,” said Malcolm. “I escaped from them by flying through a sewer tunnel, but I fell into it first. Yes, as in… into it.”
“That’s disgusting,” said Second Wind. “I’m surprised your wounds didn’t get infected.”
“Yeah, so am I,” said Malcolm. “Look, we both have it hard. I don’t know what’s bothering you, but trust me, the last few days have sucked for both of us. I was also held hostage on the bus yesterday by a Multi in a bomb vest.”
That took Second Wind by surprise. Malcolm couldn’t quite place the look on his face. It wasn’t fear, or concern, but rather, a curious anticipation. He looked down after a moment, again avoiding Malcolm’s gaze.
“We’ll have to assume that he’s everywhere,” said Second Wind. “Every public place. Either watching us, or waiting for an opportunity for another suicide attack.”
“This wasn’t a suicide attack, though,” said Malcolm. “That’s the only reason I’m still alive. He wanted something else.”
Malcolm hesitated, unsure of whether to tell Second Wind about Multi having discovered that he had a copy, and the relevant questions he’d asked. He felt a little ashamed over the fact that his instincts were urging him to keep that part to himself.
I haven’t told him about Rose, and the man claiming to be her fiancé, either.
He exhaled slowly.
“Anyway…” said Malcolm. “We should get moving. The fertilizer truck Multi is trying to hit will be coming from a farm outside of town. Quickest way for us to get there is to fly.”
Second Wind’s expression darkened.
“So the conversation is over?” he asked. “Just like that? No more questions from your pesky copy. And now, we’re off on a mission, with you in the lead.”
Malcolm felt a sudden surge of anger.
“Are you going to help with this or not?” The question came out with more whip to it than he’d intended.
Second Wind glared at him, his nostrils flaring slightly. He didn’t say anything, but when Malcolm pulled his vigilante mask over his face and kicked off into the air, he followed after him.
Flying, as Malcolm realized early on in his career as a champion, does wonders for the mood. His method for it, and by extension, Second Wind’s method, was more about using concentrated bursts of wind to throw himself into the air repeatedly, almost like a child bouncing with a pogo stick, but higher up, and on a grander scale.
Free flying, drawing upon his wind manipulation without reservation, created too much of a body load for Malcolm to maintain for long. He’d tried it a couple of times before, and the euphoria and confusion had almost led him into dark territory, power abuse that would end with him turning into a monster.