Boreal and John Grey Season 1 (43 page)

He bent his head and growled deep in his throat. Pale patterns sparkled on his cheeks, his throat, his shoulders, pearly tattoos that writhed and faded.

His body pressed down on hers, sending jolts of excitement through her. She pushed up against him and he raised his head, his eyes slits of midnight blue. He was panting as if he’d been running a marathon. He cupped one breast, his callused hand shaking, and pleasure coursed down her spine. She wrapped her legs around his hips and he quivered and bucked.

“Hell,” Finn whispered, desperation in his voice, and slipped a finger into her underwear, tearing it at the seams. She cried out, the material stinging her skin, and before she could gulp in breath, the other side received the same treatment, and he was pulling the ruined cloth off her, leaving her naked.

“We need...”
Oh Christ, think, think!
“Condoms.”

“...what?” Finn’s jaw was clenched tight, his arms trembling on either side of her, his pulse jumping at the base of his throat.

She fished at the side of the sofa, encountering her backpack, and dipped her hand inside. She was sure she still had a package from the time she’d dated Simon...

“Ella?” Finn grated, his whole body shaking with tension.

She opened the package, managing not to drop it but barely, and brandished a condom at him. He didn’t seem to understand; seemed to take the gesture as a command to undress. He shimmied out of his briefs and then was pressed, hot and hard, against her.

Swallowing a groan of pure need, she forced herself to shove him back, a hand planted on his chest. “Put this on first. Protection,” she said when Finn blinked at the foil. She ripped it open and demonstrated how it should be worn.

He’d had a girlfriend before coming to the city, hadn’t he?

Eyes glazed, Finn drew back and clumsily pulled the condom on. A moan caught in Ella’s throat at the sight of him. God, his every inch was gorgeous, and then he glanced up at her, licking his lips, and thrust forward—

Oh my fucking god
. Dimly she was aware of her spine bowing, of Finn gasping, of her hips rising to meet him, of his hands gripping her legs... Sparks danced on her skin, molten lava churned inside her.

This felt right, this felt...
Hot damn
. Finn shifted and she caught his shoulders and pulled him down. He kissed her, moaning in her mouth, rubbing against her, silky skin over steel-corded flesh.

She drew back to breathe and he moved faster inside her, eyes closing, his frame shaking. Ella arched up, breath catching in her throat—

Her body exploded into a million stars, shooting across the sky.

Chapter Eight

As One

The hill was steep and snow lingered in crevices and around black stones even though most of it had melted. It was a Summer, Ella knew. A mild year.

Chanting came from the hilltop. Voices.

The boy next to her paused in his climbing, face scrunched up in a grimace. He slid down a few feet, eyes widening in alarm — she reached out for him, or tried to.

But she couldn’t move. She could climb and follow him, but couldn’t touch him. Why? Still, he glanced up and his eyes found her. A faint smile broke on his face. It was like a sunrise, so beautiful.

Finn...
She exhaled the sounds but nothing issued from her mouth.

He pushed himself up, small hands finding purchase on rocks that looked smooth as glass, and dragged himself upward. One of his legs trembled when he planted his foot in a crevice; thinner than the other leg, it was the one he’d broken only a year back.

The boy scrabbled up the rocks, his breathing harsh, his fingers and hands bleeding, leaving streaks of red on the stones.

Where are you going?
she wanted to shout. She glanced up at the hilltop. Something bad waited there, she could feel it in her bones, and she didn’t want him going up to meet it.

Only she couldn’t talk to him, touch him, stop him. Following him up the slope, she felt fear clench her chest. Lightly she climbed, as if her body had no weight, drifting like a cloud across his dream. There was no danger in it for her.

She feared for
him
.

The top loomed closer now, tall figures cutting the morning sky. Priests, wearing their high-crested hats, stood in a circle and elves knelt on the frozen ground, two fingers touching their foreheads. Dressed in light blue, they seemed like a reflection of the sky.

A stone table stood in their center, dark slabs of polished rock, and on top lay a woman in a white dress with long, silvery hair in braids arranged on either side of her head. She seemed to be asleep, only the grief-stricken faces of those around her told otherwise.

A funeral?

Light rippled over the woman’s body, reflections and dazzles —
glass?
She was encased in a transparent box. The chanting rose in pitch, and the priests lifted their long hands, tracing symbols on the clean air.

Colors flickered on the glass box, seemed to melt it, molding it to the woman’s face and body, a crystal casing, entombing her inside.

“No!” The boy stepped out of his hiding place and threw himself at the dead woman, bloody fingers leaving trails on the shimmering glass.

His mother.

Ella hurried to stand next to him. She wanted to hug his heaving shoulders, rub his back, tell him he wasn’t alone — but her hand wouldn’t lift from her side.

Then a priest moved, striding across the platform, and grabbed the boy by the scruff of his dirty coat, lifting him off his feet. The boy kicked and yelled and slapped the priest’s arms but the priest merely looked down at him, eyes narrowed.

“You’re not one of us,” he growled, the sounds oddly distorted and somehow musical, yet perfectly clear. “Never come back.”

Ella knew what would happen before it did. She ran to the priest, reached out for his white robes.
Stop, don’t do this, stop it
, she tried to shout, but not even a sob left her throat.

The priest flung the boy down the slope.

The world tumbling, turning, brilliant flashes of pain
—

Gasping, she opened her eyes. Finn’s arms tightened around her, pinning her to his chest and she could hear his heartbeat racing, hear his labored breathing—

“It’s okay, Finn.” Her voice rasped in her throat as if she’d been screaming. “Everything’s okay.” Her eyes closed and she fell back into the dream.

— the slope evened out and the boy rolled onto his back, staring up at the sky. She had already reached his side somehow, as if she’d drifted down the hill like a feather. The boy’s hitching breaths filled the cold air and tears streaked his dirty cheeks.

And she couldn’t even touch him to wipe them off. 

***

Ella came awake with a start. The doorbell was ringing. She glanced blearily around and found she was stretched out on the sofa, with Finn... Finn lying alongside her, a heavy leg thrown over one of hers, a muscled arm, lying limp across her middle. His soft breathing tickled her ear and his cheeks...

His cheeks were wet.

Swallowing past a lump in her throat, she reached up, touching her fingertips to the moisture.

Finn sighed, his damp lashes dark against the high cheekbones.

Flashes from the dream returned.
A slope. A blue sky. A fall. Not one of us
.

Then the damn doorbell rang again, breaking the images, and she strained against Finn’s hold to get out of bed...

The sofa.

She was on the sofa, butt naked, and so was Finn, the parts of his anatomy she could see lithe and gorgeous, offered in full color, three dimensional display.

Sex with Finn.

Cuddling with Finn.

Just... Whoa
.

Someone rapped vigorously on the door. Jeez, wasn’t it still early? She tried to pry Finn’s arm off her waist. He tightened his hold and opened his eyes, frowning.

“Let go, Finn. I need to get up.” She tangled her fingers with his and he relaxed enough that she managed to slip from under his arm and stand up.

Grabbing her blouse from the floor, she groaned. Ripped. So were her slip and her bra. She looked through the peephole.

Mike
.

“One moment!” she called, jogging to her bedroom and pulling on a t-shirt and jeans. The apartment looked like the wake of a hurricane. She glanced into Finn’s room on the way back to the living room. Dave’s crew had removed the bodies of the wolves and scrubbed the floors, but blood had seeped into every dip and scratch, staining the linoleum.

 Finn was stirring on the sofa, solid muscles rippling beneath marble-white skin. God, putting clothes on that body was a damn shame, but she threw him his shirt and pants nevertheless. “Mike’s here.”

Finn scowled and stood to dress. Ella paused, a hand on the door, staring.
Holy shit
. She fanned herself, her face on fire; considered pinching herself, in case she was dreaming — but why ruin a good fantasy?

Another knock jarred her back to reality. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, unable to tear her eyes off Finn who had pulled on his shirt,
sans
buttons, and was hunting his socks and boots.

“Took you some time.” Mike gave her a once over. “Are you all right? I’ve been ringing for so long I was about to call your boss to break down your door.”

Hell
. “Glad you didn’t. Why didn’t you call me?”

“You kidding me? I tried a thousand times. Your phone’s off.”

“Is it?” She walked distractedly to the couch and fished it out of her backpack. She did her best not to look at Finn who stood, arms folded over his half-naked chest.

Mike was right. When had she turned her phone off? She only had a memory of kissing in the elevator, of limbs tangling as they fell on the sofa, of her backpack falling to the ground.

More memories trickled back. The wolves. The Shades. Her family tree. John Grey and Sirurd’s daughter.

“Well, well.” Mike was staring at something on the floor. “I see you two are getting along like a house on fire.”

She followed his gaze — to the used condom. Something dark was draped over the sofa armrest — Finn’s briefs. Finn stood aside, hair tousled, shirt open.

Heat climbed her neck.

Mike was grinning, through, and his eyes looked happy. “It was about time,” he muttered. “You were either going to screw or kill each other.”

“Was there a reason you wanted to see me?” Ella grumbled. The clock on the wall said seven in the morning and she needed a shower, urgently, and to have a look at the book before signing in to work. Dave might have read it, but they said every book changed with its reader. Maybe Simon had found something in it that Dave hadn’t noticed, and more clues might be waiting for her as well. “It’d better be good.”

“It’s good, trust me,” Mike said, his face turning grim. “I saw something huge flying outside. Something that looked like a snake with many heads and wings. I thought you might know something about it.”

***