Endgame

Page 22

“A fast shower, first, seriously.”
“Too bad it’s not bigger,” he mutters.
Shower sex? Yes, please. But the facilities here weren’t designed for pleasure. It’s a military installation, and we had to shave credits until they bled in building it. That was part of Loras’s recruitment plan, in fact. He quietly approached La’hengrin in the capital who had skills he needed and offered the cure.
“Agreed. Just…get naked and wait for me.”
I pull off my gear and drop it on the chair in the corner. Naked, I walk into the lavatory and take the quickest shower of my life. If March weren’t waiting for me—and if I weren’t cognizant that we have less than an hour to meet Sasha—I’d spend longer in here. It feels like forever since I had a hot bath.
Skin still steamy from the hot mist, I step out, and March pounces me. Sweeping me into his arms, he lowers me onto the bunk. It’s narrow, but when he pulls me on top of him, it’s big enough for two. I lean down, dusting kisses over the curve of his lower lip, his firm chin and strong jaw, then the bump of his broken nose. His lashes flutter against his cheeks as his breath catches.
“I get the feeling you missed me,” he whispers.
“It sucks without you.”
“Here, too.” He wraps his arms around me, nuzzling my damp skin.
Pleasure spills through me, bright as sunrise and equally irresistible. I feel like I can’t get close enough to him. I’m a miser hoarding sensations and memories because I don’t know how long Loras intends us to stay—or how long it’ll be between our mission in the capital and the next time I see March.
“I hate long-distance relationships,” I murmur into his ear.
“I’m right here.”
For now. I don’t say it, but he hears because he’s always in my head, if he’s close enough to be. And he sees all my doubts and private griefs, all my hopes and unlikely expectations. There are no secrets between March and me.
“Don’t, Jax.”
“I’ll do this instead, shall I? Or this…” By the time I finish teasing him, his whole body is taut, and his breath comes in ragged gasps.
He frames my hips in his hands and draws me over him. I don’t need more foreplay because his pleasure, steamy hot in my head, gives me more than enough. His thoughts become random, chaotic; memories of other times chase through my mind. March’s fantasies are all of me in various poses, but I catch a glimpse of a scene he keeps hidden away like a shameful secret.
So I make it come true this time; I don’t stay where he puts me. I slide down. He catches my shoulders. “What are you—”
“I’m in charge. Lay back.”
His eyes widen, but he does. Faint color touches his strong cheekbones as I fulfill the desire he couldn’t articulate. He knots his fingers in the sheet, knees coming up to give me better access. With lips and fingers, I give him what he needs. There’s no shame between us. Nothing he wants is wrong.
“Jax,” he groans.
Love you. I love you. The words become a drumbeat in my head, and he loses control completely. To my surprise, I come when he does, and the orgasm sweeps through me like a leveling wave. As I quiver against his thigh, I realize it’s probably an adjunct of his strong Psi. He hauls me up into his arms, between the cradle of his thighs, and I settle in with my head on his chest.
“I can’t believe you did that.”
I give a lazy grin. “You wanted it.”
“Like you give me everything I want.”
“I try,” I say seriously. “Sometimes it’s just not possible because it conflicts with what I need. But I’m never looking to deny you anything.”
March checks the time. “We have twenty-two minutes.”
“You think you can go again, old man?” I arch a brow, mocking him.
“Is that supposed to be funny?”
Belatedly, I realize I shouldn’t tease him. He lost five turns while I was in the other world, and I’m not aging like I did.
“A little?” I try.
“Let’s see who’s old.” He rolls me under him, and that’s the last coherent thought I have for a while.
Eventually, I end up on top.
“Yes,” he growls, as I sink down.
I want this to last, but because it’s been so long, it can’t. Like a summer’s day, it burns bright and hot, showering me in ephemeral heat. I move on him faster and forget to consider his pleasure. But March enjoys it when I take charge, when I use him to take what I need, because it gives him the freedom to be passive. I peak first, squeezing my eyes shut when the tremors hit. He arches up with a cry, thighs tense.
Afterward, he trembles beneath me, all lazy satiation. My muscles lax, I collapse in his arms and relish the stroke of his rough fingers on my spine.
“I’d like to kiss you all over,” I say, dragging my nails down his chest. “But we don’t have time.”
“That seems to be a theme with us.”
“Someday,” I promise.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
I take a quick, two-minute shower to wash the sex smell off, then March follows suit. As I open the wardrobe, I notice he’s left all my clothes here, like we’re living together…something we’ve never really done. For the first time, I let myself imagine it. Not on the ground, of course, but on a ship—a master suite with a big bed and plenty of storage, something sleek and fast that lets us see the universe together.
This isn’t the time to make plans, however. The war still has a long way to go. I can’t think about the future until I keep my promise to Loras.
“Do you think he’ll know what we’ve been doing?” I ask.
“Of course.”
Oh, Mary. “Will he say anything?”
March grins. “Probably. Do you care?”
After considering it, I say, “Not so much.”
When I arrive in the mess, there are few people here. March follows me, scanning for Sasha, then he spots him. The kid brightens a little and raises his hand to beckon us over. He’s already eating.
“I figured you two wouldn’t come out for a day. I owe Zeeka ten credits.”
I glance at March to see how he’s taking this. But he’s smiling. “That’ll teach you not to bet on a sure thing. I wouldn’t make dinner plans, then break them.”
Changing the subject, I ask them, “So is it weird to be the only humans here?”
“You’d know,” Sasha points out.
I think about my own question. “Sometimes. And other times I forget…until somebody reminds me.”
“That’s about how it is here,” March puts in.
Sasha nods. “The La’hengrin don’t look that much different than us.”
“High metabolism and adaptive physiology,” I offer.
“Does that mean it’s impossible for the La’hengrin to get fat?” Sasha wonders.
Now that he’s brought it up, I can’t recall seeing any who are, but so many live in abject poverty, where there’s not enough food, there’s no way to evaluate at a glance. So I shrug, not wanting to think about their plight right now.
“I’ll get the food,” I say to March. “What do you want?”
He gives his order, and I head to the kitchen-mate to input our orders; once it produces the meals, I take the plates to the table. As I’m serving, Vel and Zeeka come in. I beckon them over. Soon, all the guys from the squad arrive, and our table’s packed.
Xirol sits down next to Sasha. “When are they gonna spring you, kid?”
“You should talk to my dad. Explain all the reasons I’m needed.”
March tenses.
“You’d be useful,” Loras says quietly.
Which won’t go over well, as he’s in charge, and March knows that. So does Sasha, who says, “Does this mean you’ll take me with you this time?”
“So what’s everybody having?” I cut in.
Vel takes the cue and describes his meal, but I know he intends for the La’hengrin to recoil and rib him about how disgusting his food is. The tense moment passes. I bob my head in thanks, and he offers a discreet wa, just a fold over his plate with elbows tucked.
Though an argument’s been averted for now, it’s not the end of the issue. The tension will get worse.
CHAPTER 25
I’m in the fitness room the next day when Sasha corners me. From the kid’s expression, he means business. He wants to talk about the subject that March shut down last night. But I’m not sure why he’s trying to drag me into it. Maybe he thinks I have some influence over his parental unit?
Sorry, kid. Not that much.
But I smile in greeting as he climbs on the machine next to me. I’ve already done fifty reps, but I keep going slowly, so he can bridge the subject and get it out of the way. To my surprise, he works for a little while before glancing at me.
“Do you think I’m too young to help?”
Yeah, this is a potential minefield. In fact, I don’t. I feel like once kids are old enough to have opinions, they should be allowed to have them. But I’m not his guardian. I can’t give permission for him to sign on with the LLA in any capacity.
I also refuse to lie because that would be easier for March.
“No.”
“Help me convince him,” Sasha says. “I talked to Loras. He’s got an idea for a Special Forces unit. There are a few La’hengrin like my dad and me. They can do stuff, too, and Loras thinks it makes sense to put us in a squad together because we could handle missions no other team can.”
“It’s not a game. People die. I’m not sure if you get that…and I’m positive that’s the doubt your dad has. He doesn’t think you understand the reality…and he wants a better future for you, one that doesn’t involve killing people.”
Sasha puffs out a breath, driving the machine with his frustration. “So he’s putting his baggage on me? How is that fair?”
“Life’s not fair, kid.” I want to smack my head against the wall as soon as the words come out of my mouth. I’ve officially become an old person.
“I’m going nuts here. I feel useless, like I kept us here for nothing. I know what it’s like out there, I could help, and nobody will let me. Plus…I’m lonely. The only person who talks to me these days is an AI.”
I’m sure that’s not true; what he means is, he’s feeling neglected because his uncle is often busy, and he wants to fight. Being thirteen, he’s prone to exaggeration.
Before I can reply, he goes on, “But I guess none of that matters because I’m not old enough to be taken seriously.” He slams out of the room without looking back.
“It’s not my call,” I say aloud, but Sasha is gone.
With a heavy heart, I decide to broach the subject to March. He may not want to talk about it, but ignoring the subject isn’t going to make it better. Sasha will only get angrier, cooped up at the base as his hormones kick in. It sounds like March hasn’t been spending the time with Sasha that he used to, or Sasha wouldn’t have made the crack about Constance. Whatever’s going on, I’ll end up in the middle of it. It seems like I always do, regardless of my intentions.