Intermix Nation (41 page)

A second shot sears the air. Riva collapses
over Kasimir’s body, wooden puppet with cut strings. Adamek stares
emotionlessly at the star-crossed tableau before turning to leave.
He turns off the lights and closes the door behind him.

#

Nazirah smacks Adamek across the face.

Then again.

She rises from the bed, gasping for air.
Nazirah lifts the Iluxor and hurls it against the nearest wall. It
shatters into thousands of tiny shards, glass blowing across the
room like the winds of reckoning. Sharp stings cut the soles of her
feet. She barely notices.

Nazirah pounds the wall. She wrenches her
hair. She walks to the open space until her feet are half over the
edge. Nazirah screams into the unanswering forest, flirting with
death and wishing she could tumble into obliterating darkness –
then pulls back. She whirls around, seething. Nazirah has heard her
mother’s last wish, has already made the vow. Adamek Morgen will
have his day. And Nazirah Nation will give it to him.

“Get up.”

He rises silently. Nazirah shoves him, but
he doesn’t budge. She beats his chest, a barrage of ineffectual
fists, unable to crack his ribcage. Collapsing before him, she
sobs, animalistic, squeezing the backs of his calves. Her hands
slide down, grabbing his ankles. She rests her forehead on the
floor before his feet. Reality is escaping her, slipping through
her fingers like grains of sand on the shore.

She stands, circles him like a condor
preying on the carcass of death. Eyes black, Nazirah unsheathes the
dagger from her back pocket, shaking fingers clenched around the
handle. The same blade that carved her olive branch of bark will
now resurrect her honor.

She is going to kill him.

He is going to let her.

Nazirah grabs Adamek’s throat, feels his
pulse. That same pulse she wanted to still the first day they met,
now thumping irregularly through his skin. She looks him in the
eye, determined, holding the blade against his neck. His mask is
down. Nazirah sees the pain, the guilt, the remorse, the
acceptance. She sees it all, but she doesn’t pull her hand away.
She doesn’t push it in either.

“Do it,” he says.

She doesn’t move.

“Do it!” he repeats.

And still, Nazirah remains frozen in
purgatory, unable to choose heaven or hell, unable to decide which
is which.

“Take it!” he yells. Adamek wraps his hand
around hers, shaking in anger, both of them holding the dagger now.
“Take your revenge!”

“I won’t make a martyr out of you,” she
says, making her choice. She wrenches her hand away, letting the
knife fall to the floor. Shock and disappointment register on his
face. “You aren’t worth salvation.”

And, in the most selfish moment of her life,
Nazirah kisses him first.

A delayed second – and then he’s kissing her
back, brutalizing her mouth. Adamek grabs her waist roughly.
Nazirah stands on tiptoe, frantically clawing the front of his
shirt. She tries to climb up him, slips, needs to reach him better.
Adamek hunches, walks her backwards. Nazirah’s leg hits the end of
the bed. She stumbles, falling onto the mattress. Gasping, Adamek
breaks away. Maintaining eye contact, he slowly unbuttons his
shirt. He slips it off his shoulders, tosses it onto the floor.

His collarbones are straight and long, chest
toned, abdomen defined with a slim waist. The bandage on his left
arm lingers, a white flag of peace. Adamek clenches and unclenches
his fists, watching her watch him. Her eyes skim his hard and soft
lines, the angles of his body. Scratches and all, Nazirah thinks he
has the most beautiful hands she’s ever seen. Nazirah thinks he is
the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. And right now she wants
him, like she’s never wanted anything, like nothing else
matters.

And right now she’s okay with that.

Adamek stands over Nazirah as she sits on
the bed. He bends low, laying his hands flat on either side of her.
Nazirah’s fingers itch to reach out and touch him.

Anywhere.

Everywhere.

He doesn’t kiss her again.

The electricity between them intensifies,
spark and crackle. Nazirah is losing control. She pushes herself
backwards on her hands, out of reach. He climbs onto the bed, rough
beast, slouching towards her. The tables have turned, the hour come
round at last. He is the predator now.

Her back hits the headboard.

Adamek hunches over Nazirah, knee between
her legs, palms resting at her sides. They aren’t touching. Nazirah
longs for him to close the gap, to kiss her. But she knows he
won’t, not yet. Adamek will drag it out, torturing her, torturing
him. That’s what they do. If he kisses her now, the game’s
over.

With lips only centimeters from her neck,
Adamek blows lightly. Chills bang along Nazirah’s spine, shooting
to her toes and back. Every sense, every nerve is on fire. He
kisses her jaw, leaving an upwards trail of sweet blisters. He
bites her lobe, traces the curve with his tongue, sucking the soft
spot behind her ear. He tugs her hair, a delicious sting that rocks
her core. Nazirah arches her back restlessly underneath him, trying
to deepen their contact. But he pulls away, just enough, smiling
into her skin.

“Take your shirt off.”

His voice is hoarse, words calculated. He
holds back, restraining himself. It’s harder for Nazirah this way,
forcing her to be proactive. It makes her prove to him, to herself,
how badly she really wants it.

And she does want it.

But Nazirah doesn’t live by anyone’s rules
but her own.

She reaches between them, fingering the hem
of her shirt as if timid, exposing her stomach. Nazirah’s free hand
grips a rung in the headboard. If Adamek’s focus stayed on her
face, he would notice the purpose there. But he’s distracted.

Her foot creeps up his leg, hooks at the
knee. In an instant, he’s flipped onto his back. Nazirah straddles
Adamek smugly. He props himself up on his forearms. She shakes her
hair out, noticing his fixation on her chest. Slapping him lightly,
Nazirah grabs his chin.

“It’s rude to stare, Morgen.”

He watches her with unadulterated lust.
“I’ve never been very polite.”

Nazirah gently scrapes her nails vertically
down his face. She traces the arch of his brows, the curve of his
eyelids and the shape of his lips. He parts them slightly, taking
her fingers into his mouth. He kisses her wrist as she removes
them. She sucks his neck, alternating rough bites and kitten licks.
Nazirah inches her body down as she goes. She grabs his
collarbones, wanting to test how much they’ll give. He hisses
slightly, moans, reaches out to touch her. She slaps his hand away,
continuing to explore the flat plains, peaks, and valleys of his
chest with her mouth. Nazirah can tell he’s getting frustrated, and
she likes having that power over him. This is the revenge she
chooses. And isn’t it sweet.

She kisses from navel to belt, blowing
lightly where skin meets denim. He jerks slightly, clenching his
fingers around the headboard’s rungs. Nazirah knows he’s using all
of his willpower not to react. But this is a game, and she wants to
win.

Nazirah returns to her original position,
stretching languidly as she straddles his chest. Gathering her
courage, she pulls her shirt off. She lets Adamek stare
appreciatively for only a moment before laying the shirt over his
face, plunging him into darkness. She pulls the cotton tight,
biting his lip through the fabric. He moans, inhaling her scent,
rolling his hips against hers. She bites again, sucking harder.
When his hips grind a second time, Nazirah arches her back,
preventing contact. He groans louder, breathing labored. She goes
to do it once more, but Adamek has had enough.

He pulls the shirt off his face,
simultaneously lifting Nazirah up and slamming her down backwards.
He kisses up the slight concavity of her stomach, sending her body
into wracked, stacked spasms. “Can’t handle your own game?” she
asks, breathless.

“I can handle it,” he says, sucking the
sensitive area where Nazirah’s throat meets clavicle. His hand
snakes down, unbuttoning her jeans, slipping under the waistband.
He lazily rubs his fingers in slow circles as she writhes beneath
him. With his free hand, he pulls her hair back, whispers in her
ear. “But why should you have all the fun?”

Adamek slowly removes his hand. Nazirah
grabs his wrist, gasping. She pushes him into a sitting position,
climbing onto his lap. She will not let him have the last word.
“It’s simple, Morgen,” she says deliberately. “Just let me.” She
takes each of his fingers into her mouth, sucking off the sticky
sweetness.

Body tense, Adamek groans, “Fuck.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

His pupils are so dilated Nazirah can barely
see the green anymore. He grabs her, lifts her, and flips her
underneath him. He pulls off her jeans without further pretense,
throwing them into a ball on the floor. Nazirah props up on her
hands, entranced by the contrast of her smooth legs against his
dark denim. She watches him watch her, watches his eyes roam,
stopping at her throat. Adamek walks his fingers up her side, toys
with the amnesty pendant. His eyes ask an unspoken question.
Nazirah nods. She cranes her neck, allowing him to slip it off,
over her head.

Tonight, they are not just Nazirah Nation
and Adamek Morgen. They are more than that, less than that.
Tonight, they are quite simply two teenagers living for the
present. Yesterday is behind them. And who knows if tomorrow will
come.

Adamek runs his hand up her slender calves,
strong thighs, curved hips, and small waist. “I’ve imagined this
moment so many times since we met,” he says huskily. “All the
things I’ve wanted to do to you.”

“I can’t say it was quite the same for me,”
she snaps, unbuckling his belt. She bites her lip, struggling to
pull it through the loops.

“What changed?” he asks quietly.

She looks at him, belt forgotten. “I
changed,” she says.

“You have,” Adamek agrees. He smiles
wickedly, fingering her hair. “But you’re still that same girl on
the swings. That headstrong girl I wanted all to myself.”

Nazirah pulls away, wrapping her arm around
his neck. “I don’t belong to anyone,” she says. “Especially not
you.”

She kisses him.

He lets her.

Their lips meet, crashing together for the
first time in what feels like a lifetime. Everything suddenly
becomes real. The surreal, torturous pace they teased with before
is gone, replaced by hunger, by need.

She claws his back. He bites her lip. He
deftly unclasps her bra, letting it fall away. He pulls back,
taking in the sight of her, before kissing her again. Adamek runs
the pads of his thumbs over her breasts then cups them in his
hands, squeezing hard. Nazirah moans into his mouth, arching into
him. Adamek breaks contact, kissing her chest.

He tears off her final vestige of clothing,
pocketing her panties. She lies under him, painfully aware she is
the vision of a blushing virgin. Nazirah wants to run away then,
wants to put her hands over her face, cry, something. But she just
continues burning a hole in the ceiling, trying to find that
courage that seems to have vanished.

“Look at me.”

Adamek tugs her chin gently and she sighs.
“What?”

“Don’t you understand what you do to me?” he
asks, touching her cheek. “You don’t even realize.” He kisses her
then, a deep, shattering kiss that makes her less afraid. That
makes her not afraid at all. Nazirah smiles playfully, unbuttoning
his pants. She pulls the zipper down.

Adamek stares at her fingers, lids half
shut, as Nazirah shyly snakes a hand inside his jeans. He groans
before catching her wrist and pulling it away. She looks at him
curiously. “Next time princess, I promise.” Adamek crosses both of
Nazirah’s hands over her head. He takes his time, worshipping her
with his mouth, kissing every inch of her trembling body. Stripping
off the rest of his clothes, he lies over her, propped up on his
forearms. Their limbs entwined, eyes locked, Nazirah sees the fear
on his face, hesitation clear.

“Tell me this is wrong,” he begs.

“It’s not.”

“Tell me to stop.”

“I won’t.”

And to show him she really means it, Nazirah
takes his hand in hers. She purposefully kisses each knuckle,
callous, and bruise. She kisses the back, kisses the scratches,
making sure that he knows … that he understands.

She wants to be with him, as he is.

Adamek looks at her, humbled. Nazirah
watches the transformation of his face. She sees the hesitation
evaporate … change to determination … to intention. He kisses her
one last time. It is passionate and lingering and sure. “Bite my
shoulder,” he says.

She does, hard.

He rips through her.

She screams into his skin.

He stays there, motionless, muscles tense.
He kisses her tears until it doesn’t hurt anymore, until the pain
falls away. Nazirah won’t realize until later that the armor she
has worn for so long has fallen with it, gone to pieces with their
clothes on the floor.

Chapter
Twenty-Eight

Nazirah awakens a few hours later with the
rising dawn, blinking back dreams. Sitting up slowly, she hugs the
bed sheet to her chest. Her muscles scream and she aches
everywhere. She scans the disorderly room. Shards of glass and
discarded clothes litter the floor. Adamek sleeps beside her on his
stomach, arm under head, breathing steady. Her eyes trace his
silhouette – across broad shoulders, over the blades of his back,
down the dusza and lower, where sheets tangle around legs. Nazirah
stares at his face, so innocent in sleep, and she waits. She waits
and waits and waits for the regret to come.

It doesn’t.