Incendiary (The Premonition Series (Volume 4)) (25 page)

“Anya
yah-a-da-hal-yon-ih
Russ-el,” she breathes
,
tellin’ me that she’ll take care of me
,
before
touchin’ her lips t
o mine.

“Anya…” I murmur
, turnin’ my face and tryin’ to avoid her kisses.

“
O-zhi
,
Russ-el,” An
ya says
against my cheek, tellin’ me
she missed
me.

With my b
rows pullin’ together, I reply
,
“I don’t rememb
er you
.”

“Russ-el
,
na-ne-klah
,” she says
softly, callin’ me
“
difficult
”
while brushin’ her incredible lips over mine.
Feelin’ somethin’ in me explode, like her lips
set me on fire,
I press
her
ba
ck into the glass shower door, k
issin’ her like
somethin’ in me is achin’—
has be
en
achin’ for a ver
y long time
.

Hearin’ her groan in pleasure,
I reach
over
, tearin’ her shirt off of her and pres
sin’ my lips to her neck. Her skin is warm and smells
like
flowers I’ve only sensed
in dre
ams. Reality hit
s me then and mak
e
s
me pu
ll back
and look at
the be
autiful creature in my arms. Anya
’s perfect. H
er face is exquisite
—
her l
ong
,
black lashes are hooded over green eyes
that
I’ve only seen cat
s possess. Her archin’ eyeb
rows are black, like her hair…a
nd her body, good
Lord;
her body is made for
the sweetest
sin.

“Whoa,” I murmur
, pressin’ my
forehead to Anya’s, tryin’ to think. “
We
gotta stop now,” I say
pantin’
. “
Ji-din-nes-chanh
,” I mutter
, meanin’
“retreat
.
”

A
nya, pullin’ on my neck breathes
, “
Na-dzah
,” meanin’ “return
.
”
“Russ-el
to-ho-ne
.”
She just said I’
m sufferin’
.

I groan
. “Yeah, I’
m sufferin’ all right,” I agree
with her last statement
. My lips twist
in a grim smile. She
has me fightin’ for air, feel
in’
her soft skin
pressin’ against me
. P
uttin’ her on her feet, I turn
her, scootin’ her toward the shower.

“
N
il-ta
,” she says, callin’ me “stubborn
.
”
Not turnin’ around, she rem
oves
the rest of her clothes.
I
feel
heat ball up in the pit of my stomach, makin’
me have to turn away from her.

“I’ll go hunt for clothes,” I
say
, fleein’ from the bathroom ‘cuz if I start kissin’ her again, I might not stop. I have to stop, ‘cuz I can tell that whatever would happen next would have a different meanin’ for her than it does for me.

Runnin’ up
stairs, I knock
on the doo
r of the master bedroom. Reed co
me
s
to the door, op
enin’ it and lettin’ me in. He has
already cleaned up the dead corpses from the floor, burnin’ them in the firep
lace. They burn well, but it sme
lls
like someone lit candy on fire.

“Problem?” Reed asks
in his clipped, military way.

“Girl clothes,” I reply
. “We need passports, too.”

“Clothes I have now
—
we worry about documents later
,” he says
, going t
o the wardrobe and pullin’ out a
n
armload of girl clothes that he probably bought for E
vie. Handin’ them to me, he goes
to another closet, pullin’ out
some clothes I might fit into.

“Thanks,” I say
.

“How’s Anya?” he asks
, his face blank.

“She speaks a little Navajo…not
very much, a few words,” I say
. “Can I ask you
somethin’?”

Lookin’ curious, Reed says
, “Yes.”

“Those
butterfly things…
that y
ou
feel when you’r
e
near Evie…does it feel like…
crickets jumpin’
'
round
inside you
r stomach?” I inquire
.

A slow grin spread
s
over Reed’s face. “Yes, Russell, that’s exactly what it feels like.”

“What do yo
u think that means,” I ask
.

“It would be one way to…recognize someone, even if you ca
nnot remember her,” Reed replies, lookin’ happier than I
have
ever seen him
.

“Yeah, but…
does
it make you
want to tear her
clothes off?
” I ask
, feelin’ irritated.

“Yes, it does,” Reed affirms
, lookin’ even more stoked.

“Okay…good talk,” I say
awkwardly, feelin’
even more confused than before.

“Ver
y good talk,” Reed agrees
, watchin’ me leave.

Runnin
’ back down the stairs, I walk
into the bedroom again, tossin’ t
he clothes on the bed. I search the closet and find
a small suitcase.
Puttin’ it on the bed
too
, I stop
, seein’ Anya walk out of the bathroom d
r
ippin’ wet and completely naked. “
Tkoh
,”
she says
the word for water, indicatin’ with a gesture
that it’s drippin’ off of her.

“Good L
ord
! W
hat are
you
doin’ to me
?
” I breathe
, lookin’ at h
er standin’ there all wet. It feels like someone aimed
a
flamethrower
at me. “Y
ou’
r
e
not shy, I’ll say that for you
.”

Starin’ at her a
nd seein
’ her teeth chatterin’, she says
, “
Tkin
,” which means “ice
.
”

I quickly step past
her t
o the bathroom, findin’ a towel. I cover her with it. “Here,
”
I say
, “Get dressed while I
shower. We have to leav
e, uh…
da-de-yah
…
we have to
‘
depart
.
’
”

She nods
, and
then she walks
slowly
toward the bed, pickin’ up clothes and lookin’ at them critically. Sighin’
,
I turn and close
the
bathroom
door. In the
shower, I
wash
quickly. Grabbin’ a towel and
wrappin’ it around my hips, I ru
n my hands through my hair, while walkin’ back into the bedroom.

Anya is by
the foot of the bed, slidin’ a pair of jeans over her lacy underwear, makin’ me stumble to a halt. Her wings are in now, and she figured out what the bra is for,
but it’s a little small on her.

“I should’ve
taken a cold shower,” I mumble
to myself, avoidi
n’ lookin’
at Anya
again
as I sift
through the clothes on the bed.

Finding a cable knit sweat
er that fits me okay, I shrug
into it, but the pants are all too small. Lookin’ in the closet in
this room, I locate
more clothes.
Pullin’ out jean
s that are designed to be loose, I
put them on and they fit me
except they’re a little short.

Sitt
in’ on the edge of the bed, I fa
ll back on it, holdin’ my arm over my eyes. I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck, picked up and tossed down a ditch, rolled over and doused in gasoline
,
and then lit on fire—i
n that order.
I know I should be hungry,
starvin’, but I’m not.

“Russ-el
tso
,” Anya says
, climbin’ up on the bed next to
me and snugglin’ into my side.

I smile
, despite how
bad
I’
m feelin’, hearin’
Anya call me “big
.
”
“Yeah, Russell
tso
.”

“Russell,” Evie says
, comin’ in the
room. “Oh, I’m sorry…” she stammers
, turnin’ and leavin’, lookin’ embarrassed.

“NO! Red, don’t go!” I order
, sitti
n’ up. “Are we leavin’?”

“Uh, yeah…if
you’re ready,” Red says
, blushin’ and avertin’ her eyes from us.

“Is this as
s awkward, or is it me?” I ask
, sittin’ up and rubbin’ my eyes.

“No,
no…it’s ass awkward,” she agrees
, lookin’ as grim as I feel. “
She hates me, Russell,” Red says
in a whisper, lookin’ at Anya who now looks like she’s gettin’ ready to pounce on her.

“That’s the same look R
eed is always givin’ me,” I reply
, indicatin’ Anya’s scowl.

“
Ugh, what do I do?” she asks
, whisperin’ again.

“I think you
can stop whisperin’, for one. It seems to be botherin’
her and she can’t understand you
so the
re’s really no point,” I reply
.

“This
is worse than Candace,” she says
. “At least Candace couldn’t shred me.”

“Red, you’
r
e
pretty strong and wily. She’d have a
h
ard time gettin’ the jump on you
,” I reply
.

“Is she really your
aspire
, Russell?” Evie asks
, lookin’ pale.

Shruggin’
I say
, “I have no idea, Red. At this point, anythin’ is possible.”

“She’s really pretty,” Red points out
, lookin’ at Anya, who’s runnin’ her hands through her hair to
try to get
the tangles out of it. Evie goes
quickly to the bathroom, bringin’ back a hairbrush for Anya.

Tentatively, Anya takes
the brush from Evie, still watchin’ Red like she’d like to break her in two. Anya is more than pretty…
she
’s
sexy. Even wearin’ a shirt
and a sweater, they can’t hide her curves. Just rememberin’ her naked is returnin’ the heat to the pit of
my stomach.

“Yeah…she’s pretty,
”
I agree
.

“What ar
e you going to do?” Red asks
, watchin’ Anya brush her
long, black
hair.

“I don’t know—
maybe we shoul
d go and pick out china,” I say
sarcastically.

“Okay—
so you
have no plan yet?” she asks
, frownin’
.

“The
re should be a plan, Red? Really? L
ike what?” I counter
, rubbin
’ my eyes. “I’ve never been in this s
ituation before. I could use a hand.”