Eighteen
NOT GOING TO TALK
THE FLIGHT HOME was relatively uneventful.
Black managed to procure seats in first class for all four of us.
Angel slept most of the way there, leaning on Nick’s shoulder with the unhurt side of her face. I sat on Nick’s other side, only with an aisle between us. Black slept on me... in fact, he fell asleep within minutes of the fasten seat belts light going off and more or less in my lap.
I was a little blown away at how fast he went down, even with what my uncle said about how long it had been since he’d slept. He didn’t even ask. The light went out and he unbuckled his belt, stretched out his legs and slid his upper body onto my thighs. Wrapping an arm around my leg, he used it as a cushion for his face and basically passed out.
I practically felt him lose consciousness as I stroked his hair.
When I glanced up I saw Nick staring down at his face, a scowl touching his full lips.
“Nick.” I shook my head in warning when he glanced up. “Don’t. Just don’t, okay?” Pausing, I changed the subject. “What did Jean say? Your friend?”
Nick shrugged, his face expressionless as he stared straight ahead.
“Not much.” His expression grew flat. “You were right. He had no memory at all of either of the guys they had in custody. He remembered me saying we’d be in town looking for someone we suspected had been taken against his will... possibly due to some form of blackmail. He wanted to know if we’d found our guy.”
“What did you tell him?”
Nick let out a disbelieving snort, meeting my gaze.
“I said we found him. What else could I say? I said he was okay. I also said I’d share any relevant information when we got back to the States, after we’d debriefed Black... but there isn’t going to be any relevant information, is there, Miri?” At my silence, he exhaled, shrugging. “Anyway, he knew he was getting the brush off. I’m pretty sure he thought it was an administrative thing... nothing to do with me, or Black himself.” He jerked a chin in Black’s direction, his mouth pursed. “What about him? He say anything?”
“Nothing I can share here,” I muttered.
Nick’s gaze sharpened, right before he leaned towards me across the aisle, speaking in a low murmur. “You’re going to tell us though, right, doc?” He gauged my expression, his dark eyes serious. “Angel and me, we’re not going to magically ‘forget’ the last few weeks too, are we? Or our little vacation to Paris? You’re not going to let Black ‘clean up’ with us?”
I gave him a flat look.
Seeing the answer in my face, Nick exhaled in a frustrated sigh that also held some relief, right before he combed his fingers through his hair. That time, he looked directly at Black’s face. I saw anger in his expression, along with a look of near powerlessness.
“You saw what he did?” Nick said, his voice accusing.
I frowned, looking down at Black.
He’d still been covered in blood when we got him into the van.
Ian’s blood.
We’d had to clean both of us up on the way to the hotel and then on the way to the airport. He borrowed a clean shirt from Nick’s suitcase, which hadn’t thrilled Nick. As for Black himself, he hadn’t said much about why he did it.
Then again, he didn’t need to. I knew why he’d done it.
Moreover, I honestly wasn’t sure if I disagreed with him.
“Unarmed,” Nick said. “Shackled. Fucker didn’t hesitate.”
“I saw.” My fingers massaged Black’s shoulder.
I felt him soften the longer I touched him, sinking into me further, opening himself to me more. Everything about him exuded contentment. The feeling was so tangible I swallowed, fighting back an emotional reaction, and not only because most of that contentment felt directly related to me. I knew he’d recently murdered someone with his bare hands. I knew that, and I knew it should trouble me... but the reality of what he’d done contrasted so much with the man now curled up in my lap, I had trouble reconciling the two things.
After a few more seconds, I stopped trying.
I looked back at Nick.
“You don’t know what he went through.” I heard the defensiveness in my own voice, but shoved that aside, too. “You don’t know what my uncle put him through these past few months. What Ian put both of us through. Not just here. In Bangkok, too. You didn’t see...” I glanced up and down the aisle, then looked at Nick. “Kids, Nick. In Bangkok. He went after children, all to leave some kind of twisted message for Black...”
Seeing Nick frown, I swallowed, shrugging again.
“There’s no way Ian would have been stopped in the usual ways,” I said, softer. “There’s no way we could have trusted my uncle to take care of it, either. He probably would have just set him loose again... maybe even to go after Black. He obviously isn’t happy Black and I are together. He would have used Ian against us again. Black knew that.”
Nick nodded. I could tell from his eyes he wasn’t convinced.
I could also distinctly feel that he wasn’t about to share his real thoughts on the subject. Not here at least, in the middle of a quasi-public airplane cabin.
“It could be that,” he said cagily.
I gave him a flat look. “What else would it be?”
Nick gave a shrug, his eyes flat. “From the outside, it looked like it might be something else. In addition to that, I mean. Like maybe the elimination of a rival.”
“A rival?” Glancing down at Black, I let out a disbelieving snort. “You’re kidding, right?”
“You were engaged to him.”
“A bit’s changed since then, wouldn’t you say, Naoko?”
“You sure Black knows that?”
I stared at him in disbelief. “Considering he was around when our wedding plans got broken off, I’m going to have to go with yes. Seriously. Nick. Are you listening to yourself?”
He looked away, a deeper scowl touching his full lips.
For a long moment, he seemed to be staring at the monitor in front of him without seeing it. That same monitor showed the flightpath of our plane heading west.
“You sure you know what you’re doing with him, Miri?” he said only.
I could feel what he meant. He didn’t only mean Black anymore, in the sense of Quentin Black, P.I., the guy Nick didn’t like or trust. He didn’t mean the Quentin Black he’d originally picked up for murder either, who he’d pegged as a psychopath and serial killer. He didn’t even mean Black, the errant boyfriend Nick thought was yanking my chain, who was probably cheating on me, who wasn’t good enough for me, maybe for a lot of reasons.
He meant the fact that Black wasn’t human.
At the irony of the thought, I let out a low chuckle. I couldn’t help it.
Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I glanced down at Black’s head in my lap before I looked back at Nick.
“No,” I said. “No, I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Remembering what my uncle said about the two of us, about whatever had been happening to us over the past few months, I swallowed thickly.
“But I think it’s probably too late for me to worry about that, Nick.”
When I glanced up at him next, his frown had deepened again.
Even so, I saw the understanding in his eyes.
I saw the sadness there too, even though I wished I didn’t.
EVERYTHING SEEMED TO take too long at the airport, too.
I didn’t sleep on the plane, which didn’t help.
Neither did Nick. When I said goodbye to him and Angel at the curb outside baggage claim, giving them each a half-hug before they climbed into a taxi to share, Nick looked like he was barely standing. He nodded to Black, not offering his hand, but I was startled to see Angel give Black a hug too, in addition to giving one to me.
When they climbed into the cab after the driver had their bags loaded, I glanced at Black, only to find him watching my face.
We still hadn’t talked.
Now that we were alone, for the first time since we’d last been in this city together, the weight of that silence seemed to fall on both of us. I studied his flecked gold irises, watching him do the same to me.
Then he motioned with his head towards the curb.
“Let’s go home,” he said simply.
We didn’t talk on the drive from the airport.
He hadn’t called anyone, so we rode in a cab just like Nick and Angel. That cab dropped us off in front of the building on California Street, and I honestly couldn’t remember either of us saying a word until Black thanked the driver, paying him in cash and giving him a big tip.
We entered the building to several greetings from his staff, most of them security since it was the weekend and still the early hours of the morning.
If they were surprised to see him, I couldn’t tell that either.
Then again, they were used to Black being gone for months at a time. It was likely more strange to them that I was with him.
Either way, two of them came forward at once and took our bags. Black told them to do the usual with them. I had no idea what the usual meant, particularly in relation to me and my stuff, but I didn’t care enough to ask.
We rode the elevator in silence.
I walked with him down the hall and through the door of his penthouse apartment. Only once we’d gotten inside and Black shut the door behind us did he look at me directly again. He averted his gaze a few seconds after he had, though.
“Are you...” He glanced around the sunken living room, then cleared his throat. He met my gaze, holding it that time. “I need a shower.”
I nodded, glancing down him. The bandage didn’t show under the jacket, but I wondered if he needed the dressing changed by now, considering the plane and sweating and whatever else.
“Do you need help?” I said, still looking at his body, not his face.
When he didn’t answer, I glanced up, and saw him staring at me again.
That time, I got the impression he almost didn’t know what to do with me.
It hit me suddenly that I had my own apartment to go to.
“Hey,” I said, feeling my face flush. “Maybe I should get out of your hair. Let you rest for awhile...” I backed towards the door as I spoke, reaching behind me for the handle without looking away from his face. “You can call me later, when you get a chance to...”
I trailed when he followed me.
Before I could collect my thoughts, he placed his hand on the door behind me. He rested his weight on it, which pretty much meant I wasn’t opening it, since it opened inwards.
“I need a shower,” he repeated.
When I glanced up, his gold eyes met mine, his face still as a statue.
“I need help, Miri.”
Smiling a little, I shook my head, averting my gaze. “Sure you do.”
He took my hand without another word.
I found myself following him out of the foyer and into the hallway leading to his bedroom and the attached bathroom. We’d only walked a few steps when he stopped again, coming to a dead standstill in the corridor. I was about to ask him what was wrong when he turned, meeting my gaze. He looked like he wanted to say something.
That look on his face grew, a kind of confusion mixed with frustration... maybe indecision.
Then he caught hold of my arms.
Before I could catch my breath, he pulled me closer, lowering his head.
Then he was kissing me.
He was breathing harder before his mouth even reached mine. Once it had, he pressed the whole length of his body against mine, gripping my arms so tightly I writhed against him, right before I wrapped my hands around his upper arms in return. He paused for a breath, then kissed me again, pressing into me harder.
Seconds later, he had my back up against the wall. His whole body clenched, every muscle taut. When he leaned into me, sliding his legs between mine, he was already hard.
He kissed me longer that time.
Even so, I felt that restraint there again, so tangibly I let out a frustrated sound, right before I shoved at his chest with one hand.
“Are we doing this again?” I said, breathless. “Really? We’re going to do this fucking dance again, Black?”
My words came out angry. Furious, almost.
He met my gaze.
His pupils had dilated, leaving the gold swallowed in black. He studied my face, and I felt that restraint on him sliding, even before he let go of my arms, wrapping an arm around my waist before he buried his other hand in my hair.
He kissed me again, harder that time.
That time, I felt a lot more of him in the kiss.
He let out a low groan when I kissed him back, and then he had me up against the wall again, pressing into me with all of his weight. I gasped when his hand roamed lower, gripping my ass before he pulled me flush against him.
We parted a few seconds later, gasping.
“No.” He shook his head, meeting my gaze. He closed his eyes, then he was staring at my mouth, his expression pained. “I don’t want to... I don’t want to play games with this either, Miri. Your uncle wasn’t wrong, though. We should talk. We should talk about this... before, I mean...”
His words nearly ran together.
Pain slid off him as his hands tightened, and then he pressed me harder up against the wall, lowering his head to kiss my throat. His fingers were unfastening buttons as his mouth and tongue tasted my skin, as he massaged my thigh with his other hand. He groaned once he got the shirt halfway open, then he yanked downward, ripping it open the rest of the way with his fingers. I heard buttons pop before he arched his body against mine harder.
He was massaging the front of my body then, looking down at me, his eyes glazed.
“Fuck,” he groaned, bending down to kiss my throat. He let out another heavy sound, sliding a hand between my legs. “Fuck... we’re not going to talk about this, are we, Miri?” He let out another pained sound, his fingers unfastening the top of my jeans. “We should talk, Miri. We should talk. Please... tell me if you want to talk to me...”
He pressed against me, his voice deepening, growing rough.
“...If you’re looking for me to be the one with self control right now...” He shook his head. “I’m not that guy, doc. Not anymore. Please don’t get angry at me later because I can’t be that guy. If you want me to slow this down, you need to tell me. You need to tell me now, doc...”
I clenched my fingers in his hair, forcing him to meet my gaze.
I fought to think through the pain coiling and colliding between the two of us, but I couldn’t make myself care enough about any of it. I had my other hand on him, massaging him through his pants and he let out a heavier groan, slamming my back up against the wall.
“Miri,” he groaned. “Please... fuck. Please...”
“No,” I told him, shaking my head. “No, we’re not going to talk.”
“Are you sure?”
Looking up at him, I nodded, fighting to control my breathing. “Yes. I’m sure. Unless you want to talk. I’ll talk if you really want to, Black...”
He shook his head.
There was a loaded-feeling pause.
Then I felt him let it go for real.
He wrapped his arms around my back, crushing me against him when I continued to massage him, his tongue and lips on my throat, moving lower...
... then he hooked my leg... and we were on the floor, his arm cushioning my head.
He tugged the last of the shirt off me, yanking down on my pants, then my underwear.
He sat up long enough for me to help him get his shirt off, too.
He didn’t take his eyes off me the whole time we undressed.
He winced in real pain a few times from his wounded side, but when I tried to look at it, he caught hold of my hair, leaning his mouth back down to mine. He kissed me harder each time, blowing heat over me in that way of his, distracting me back towards his tongue and fingers and hands. The urgency on him made it impossible to think, impossible to care about anything else.
The message was clear, though.
He didn’t give a damn about being wounded.
He had both of us naked before I’d admitted to myself what was happening, and then he hung over me, his expression concentrated, almost lost-looking with pain.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
He nodded, wincing when I massaged his chest.
For the first time since we started, he wouldn’t look at me.
“The hole in your side. You’re going to tear your stitches...”
But he was already shaking his head.
“That’s not it,” he said, his voice thick. “I don’t give a fuck about that. I’m extended. I can’t...” He opened his eyes, meeting my gaze with half-lidded eyes. He was sweating I realized, his eyes glazed. “I can’t enter you like this,” he managed. “Miri... just give me a minute, please... please... I feel like I’m going to fucking die if we don’t do this...”
Pain blanked out my vision at his words.
Once I could see again, I watched his face, saw his mouth firm as he concentrated. Pain hardened his features as he closed his eyes, worsening mine all over again.
Then, slowly, his expression smoothed.
He let out a low sound, somewhere between moan and a growl.
“Gaos...” He groaned, kissing my face. “I have it down. I don’t know for how long... but I have it down...”
I pulled on him in that way I couldn’t explain, tugging on his arms with my hands. “Yes.” That urgency flared in me, bringing a hard pain to my chest. “Yes... Black. Please...”
When I gripped his hair in my fingers he let out a heavier gasp.
Then he slid into me to the hilt.
I let out a broken cry. I couldn’t help it. I wrapped my legs around him, mindful of the bandage on his side. Even so, a pang of guilt hit me when I remembered it...
At least until he slammed into me harder.
Then I forgot about his wound entirely.
I groaned that time, arching my back.
He did it again, harder, and both of us cried out. Propping his weight up on one arm, he gripped my hip in his other hand and arched into me again, letting out a heavy sound when he went deeper from the changed angle. I found myself looking up at him, at his arms and chest, clenching and tensing above me.
He was beautiful. Not just physically––although he was beautiful in that way, too. There was something else about him, something I could feel more than see, even as I watched him express it through his physicality. It brought up such an intensity of feeling my reaction bordered on violence. Gripping his shoulders, I met him halfway the next time and he let out a heavier sound, clenching his hands on me.
He stopped us before we would have done it again.
Pain came off him, so intensely I groaned.
I realized he was still holding everything back, and that urge to hit him grew stronger again, almost uncontrollable. He might have even felt it because he held me down, grasping my wrists in his fingers. Leaning his forehead against mine, he groaned again.
“Gaos, Miri...” He kissed my face with hot, heavy brushes of his lips and tongue. His voice shifted downwards, low, lulling in that way that drove me crazy with him before. “Show me. Please... I’m going to have to pull out if you don’t...”
I didn’t know what he meant. The words didn’t make sense to me, didn’t string together in a way my mind could comprehend.
He kissed my face again, pressing a hot cheek against mine.
“Show me...” he murmured. “Show me... I don’t know how to do this. Don’t make me pull out. I want to fuck like this... please...” He groaned, his voice heavier, more demanding. “Please, Miri... please...”
He flashed an image in my mind of that hard part of his cock extending and all at once, I understood. Without waiting, I arched my back deliberately, changing the angle of both of our bodies. I pulled his body into a different angle, too.
I showed him in his mind and he groaned.
I showed him his side of things, showed him where he needed to be, how the motion worked, the friction, and he groaned again.
He angled deeper into me and groaned louder.
When he found the right spot, shifting so that his cock fell into place, into that notch that felt almost like one puzzle piece fitting into another, he let out a heavier cry, nearly losing control. He broke out in a sweat, gripping my back with one arm.
“Gods...” It was nearly a yell that time. “Miri... fuck... tell me.”
“It’s right,” I murmured against his ear. “You’re in the right place. You can relax. It’s right, Black. You can let go...”
I felt him fighting to do as I said.
His whole body clenched and I started massaging him when he released my wrists, massaging his shoulder and neck in my hands, his back, his chest. I pulsed warmth at him, willing him to relax, pulling on him even as I tugged him deeper inside me. When he couldn’t make himself let go, I pulled myself further up against him, grinding up on the end of him. Once there, I pulled on him slower... slower still... more sensually...
There was a smooth, silent glide.
Excruciating. Frictionless.
I felt every millimeter of him extending.
I felt him stop breathing.
His whole body stopped, stuttering for those few seconds. He hung there, his heart beating loud in his chest, his eyes going half-lidded as he let out a heavy sound. Pain exploded over me, along with...
Pleasure. So much pleasure I could barely stand it.
He got lost in it, so lost he seemed to disappear for those few seconds.
“Black,” I murmured, caressing his face. “Black... are you all right?”
His jaw hardened.
I stroked his neck and face, trying to get him to open his eyes, but he still fought to breathe, that pain and pleasure expanding off him in a blinding cloud. Taking a gasping breath, he ground into me and I moaned. He did it again, going deeper that time––deep enough to stop my heart, deeper than Solonik had gone. I cried out, nearly lost it right there.
I was saying his name then, gripping his shoulders...
He slid out of me with that hard part of himself, making me moan...
Then he arched into me even harder.
I cried out and he gasped, fighting for control, clenching my hair in a fist. His forehead dropped to mine, then he arched into me again, more violently still. It was enough to hurt that time, but nothing ever felt so good. I cried out, unable to stand how good it felt.
He fell into a rhythm, fucking me, hard, both of us lost in a fugue state.
I felt myself building...
He slowed, making each thrust more deliberate, going deeper in a way that only made it worse...
I was begging him then, asking him...
When he didn’t slow that time, I came.
It was sudden, violent. He ground to a halt, gasping as he felt me lose control. I felt him fighting not to come himself, every muscle in his body clenched as he broke out in another sweat. Once he’d regained control he thrust into me again, harder... and I whimpered.
“Gaos...” It came out choked, barely coherent. “Gaos... Miri... I can’t handle this...”
He was fucking me again though, heavy and deep, still talking to me.
“Open,” he urged. “Miri... open to me... open your light...”
I tried to do as he asked. I found I almost understood what he meant, the harder he pulled on what he wanted. I could feel the part of me holding back too, the part he was talking to, that still didn’t trust him enough to go there. I think I said things to him, but I have no idea what I said. I lost track of everything, maybe even myself. By the time I could think again, he had his whole weight on me, his hands gripping the small of my back.
When I came the next time, he let out a thick cry.
I felt his control slide away completely.
I groaned when he came too. It hurt, a dense pressure that nearly made me lose it again. I felt something in both of us shift. I felt myself offering myself to him––maybe even the same part that had been closed to him since he left me here that first time.
That pain coming off him worsened, grew unbearable.
He started talking to me, using words I remembered from before he’d left, that last night we’d been alone together before he left me here.
“Liliere... liliere ilya... untielleres. Gaos... Miri... Miri... untielleres... untielleres...”
I didn’t know what the words meant.
I told myself that, during and after.
I really didn’t know what any of his words meant.
Even so, the hot wash of emotion that crashed over me––warming me from the center of my chest to the ends of my fingers like a liquid flame as he murmured against my ear––made a lot of things really damned clear.
Maybe a little too clear, truthfully.
But I wasn’t ready to think about that yet.
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