The Enemy Within (Daughters of the People Series Book 3) (13 page)

She padded
across the room on silent feet and eased into the bed next to Hiro.

He stirred,
shifted, and his hand snaked under his pillow.

“It’s me,” she
said softly, so he wouldn’t pull out the knife he slept with. She wanted a
fight, not a massacre.

“Mmph.” He
reached for her and she went willingly, letting his warmth seep into her. His
hand made small circles on her back, drifting down until he cupped her bottom.
“You’re naked.”

“I am.” She
rested a hand on his chest and draped a leg over his hip. “Is that a problem?”

“No. Mmm.” He
yawned and pulled her closer. “Let me wake up.”

She kissed him
instead, trying to be gentle for some reason that was beyond her when all she
wanted to do was bite and punch and kick. He inhaled sharply and groaned when
she nipped at his lips, maybe a little harder than she should’ve.

“You’re in a
mood.” His hand squeezed her bottom. “What’s wrong?”

“Mámá had her
babies.”

“So you snuck
into my apartment and crawled naked into my bed?” he murmured sleepily.

She bit back her
first smart remark and said, in the most reasonable tone she could manage, “You
left the door unlocked.”

He yawned again
and rubbed his face against hers. “Knew you’d be back.”

His comment
stung, though she couldn’t have said why. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“Wait, no. God,
you’re sensitive.”

She reared back,
not just stung but hurt. Tears popped into her eyes as her heart ached and
withered. Damned if she’d let him see them.

She rolled out
of his grasp and slid from the bed. The covers rustled behind her and she
sensed more than heard him draw closer, following her across the room. His hand
fell onto her shoulder and she shoved it away.

“What’s gotten
into you?” His voice was a hard, impatient rake across her raw nerves. “Jesus,
India. Any other woman would be happy I left the damn door open for her.”

“I’m not any
other woman.” She snatched her shirt from the pile on the floor. “Guess you
didn’t notice.”

“Oh, yeah, I
noticed all right.” His hand snuck out, quicker than she could follow, and
snatched the shirt from her hand. “If I noticed any harder, everybody else
would, too.”

She reached for
her shirt and let out a frustrated growl when he held it out of her reach.
“Give me my shirt.”

“Not until you
calm down.” He backed up a step. “You go out there angry and you’re liable to
fall.”

“I’m as likely
to fall as you are to lose your dick.” She grabbed at her shirt and stifled a
scream when he held it away from her. “What is this, kindergarten? Give me my
shirt and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Is that what
this is about?”

He dropped the
shirt and lunged for her. She evaded narrowly and swung her arm out, hitting
his forearms in a sweeping blow, knocking his hands to the side.

A smile flashed
across his face, part satisfaction, part danger, and then he came at her, hard
and fast, his hands quick and sure. She fought back, blocking and weaving,
allowing him to learn her defenses while she studied his offense.

They circled around
the room exchanging swift blows that flew out like lightning. The third time
his strike snuck past her guard and nipped at her, barely grazing her hip, her
temper flared. He was toying with her. She wanted a fight.

Her next blow
caught him in the ribs, hard enough to bruise, not hard enough to break a bone.
He stepped away from her, dropped his hands, and studied her, his expression
flat and unemotional.

She stiffened
under the discomfiting weight of his stare. “What?”

“You don’t know
how to play, do you?”

She’d
disappointed him. Her breath shallowed in her lungs and her head went light. She
shrugged, trying to throw the odd feel of it off. “Life is a struggle, not a
playground. Either you win or you lose. There’s nothing in between.”

“India.” He
shook his head, snagged her shirt, and held it out for her. “Sometimes I feel
sorry for you.”

She sucked in a
breath at the ache that sprang up in her gut. She could take a lot from him,
but not his pity.

And she wanted
so much more.

But there he
was, watching her with an unnerving steadiness, holding her shirt out. Why
didn’t he just say it, just tell her to leave? Why did he have to be so gentle
about it?

She dug her
fingernails into the palms of her hands until the urge to apologize passed. She
wouldn’t beg. Men were a dime a dozen. Another one could be in her bed before
the sun rose, if she wanted.

She didn’t, but
that wasn’t the point. She could have anyone. Somehow, though, the only man she
wanted was the one who stood in front of her, telling her to go without saying
a word.

She reached out
to snatch her shirt away and he grabbed her wrist and twisted, bringing it up
and back, using it as leverage to push her face first onto the bed. He pinned
her wrist to her lower back and followed her down, straddling her thighs with
his own. She bucked and wiggled trying to unseat him, and he smacked her bare
bottom hard, stopping her cold.

“Now that I’m
awake,” he said, “let’s talk.”

Her arm ached
where he’d jerked her around and her bottom stung. She wiggled again, trying to
break free, and he smacked the other cheek, a sharp blow that sent pleasant
tingles radiating through her. Her muscles tightened and heat pooled between
her legs. She buried her face in the bed, stifling a moan.

“Don’t do that,”
he said in a voice as sharp as the blow he’d landed.

“What?” She kept
her face buried so that her voice was muffled by the comforter. “I stopped
fighting.”

“Hunh. Right.”
His hand dropped onto her bottom over the area he’d smacked and rubbed gently.
“Don’t hold back your response. If you’re turned on, let it out.”

“I’m not.”

Of course, she
was. Worse, she wanted him to do it again.

“And now you’re
lying.” His hand squeezed her bottom. “If I let your arm go, will you promise
to be good?”

“Define good,”
she hedged.

“No more
fighting.”

She could stand
the pain, and would have, if the fight hadn’t drained out of her. “Ok.”

He held her arm
for long moments before releasing her. She pushed halfway up, swung her arm
around gently, and prodded her shoulder, checking for damage.

“Here, let me.”

He braced a hand
beside her head on the bed, using the other to push her hand out of the way and
rub the sore muscle. She crossed her forearms and dropped her head onto them,
and sighed as his fingers dug into her skin, kneading the tension away.

“Feel good?”

“Mmm.” She
sighed again, a deep cleansing breath, and closed her eyes. His hand shifted to
her neck with firm strokes, teasing a moan from her. “You don’t have to do
that.”

“I want to.” He
shifted behind her, brushing his body against her back, and pressed his mouth
where his hand had been. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t keep leaving the door
unlocked, which any other woman would know.”

His tongue
darted out, rasping across the skin of her spine, and she lost track of the
conversation.

“I love your
skin.” His breath blew across the damp spot his tongue had left behind, and she
shivered. “Soft and sweet. A little salty.”

He licked again,
lower down, then lower and lower, touching his tongue to the skin above each of
her vertebrae in turn, and working his way back up with butterfly kisses. She
grasped the comforter, wrinkling it in her fists, and bit her tongue to hold
back the fire, to contain it and keep it from spilling out of her.

His teeth sank
into the skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, hard enough to pull an
involuntary moan from her. He pressed an open mouthed kiss to the spot and
sucked lightly, and her muscles quivered with need. What was it about this man
that left her weak and aching, desperate for more of anything he would give,
yearning to give him something in return?

He pulled back
and she shivered from the loss of his body heat. “Under the covers,” he said.

She pushed up
from the bed with trembling muscles and, for the first time in her life, didn’t
curse the weakness. He’d made her this way, made her feel something other than
fury and anger and frustration, and it was good. She crawled under the covers,
turned on her side, and watched him strip his underwear off, drinking in his
perfectly formed beauty.

He crawled into
bed beside her and draped a hand on her hip, his expression in shadows. “I want
you to stop coming up from outside.”

Desire drained abruptly
from her. She closed her eyes and turned over, away from him, suddenly so tired
it hurt.

“Could I sleep
here tonight? Just for a little while.” Her voice broke. She swallowed to clear
it and didn’t even notice the tears. “I won’t come back, if I can just...”
Have
a little longer
, she thought, but couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“Shh. Hey.” He
scooted up behind her and spooned her. “I meant I want you to come up the
stairs like normal people do. You can use the spare key card.”

She breathed out
a relieved laugh. “I knew that.”

“Sure you did.
That’s why you’re crying.” He brushed his face against her hair. “I never
thought I’d see that from you. Maybe a roundhouse kick or a punch to the mouth,
but not tears.”

“Gimme a break.”
She peered at him over her shoulder, catching his dark gaze in the shadows. His
eyes glittered in his narrow face. Even she could see the concern etched there.
“It’s been a rough day.”

“You want to
talk about it?”

She shook her
head. “That’s not why I came here.”

“Why did you
come here?”

“You know why,”
she said softly.

“You could’ve
had that any of the, what, dozen or so times you’ve dropped by, before, during,
or after our Godzilla marathons. Preferably all three.” His hand stroked her
hip, soothing her. “Why now?”

Because she’d
reacted instead of thinking, like she always did when her temper was high. Because
she ached for him and needed him, and knew it, deep down where she never
looked, in the part of her heart that craved a soft touch and a gentle voice
and an end to the constant bitterness.

Not that she’d
ever admit it, not to his face, especially not the part about needing him.

“When I saw the
babies, it just, I don’t know, made me want more. Maybe I’m tired of being
alone.”

“I can cure the
alone part,” he said. “But we should probably hold off on the babies until
after the second date.”

She gaped at
him, saw the mischief in his eyes, and laughed, letting it roll over her until
her stomach muscles hurt with the goodness of it. “Thank you,” she said when
her laughter died off, leaving only a pleasant warmth behind.

“For what?”

“For letting me
stay.”

His features
tightened and her breath caught at the passion gathering there.

“I wouldn’t have
it any other way,” he said, and kissed her like he meant it.

Bobby woke
Indigo before he left for work, while the sun was still skimming under the
mountains on its way into the sky. She mumbled and shifted in the bed, and
winced when she moved her legs.

He wanted to
ease the soreness with his mouth on her skin, and would when the sun finished
its journey for the day. He settled for teasing kisses along her neck when she
turned her face away from his, and laughed when she pulled a pillow over her
head and snuggled into it.

His lover wasn’t
a morning person. Who knew?

He let himself
out of her apartment, pulling the locked door shut behind him, and jogged down
the stairs as quietly as he could. The pre-dawn air chilled his skin through
his thin jacket. Time to pull out the winter one.

His truck
started on the first try and he let his mind wander while it warmed up.

He could grab
enough clothes to last him through the week when he went home to change before
going to work.

Maybe Mom would’ve
already left for the IECS by then.

He checked his
watch and huffed out a breath that fogged in the cool air. Nope. She’d still be
in the middle of her workout when he got home.

Not home
anymore, though. Satisfaction filled him, followed quickly by a sharp worry.
Indigo was ready to claim him, but how long would that last when she hadn’t
submitted to him and become mortal?

Probably not
long. He’d heard the stories of immortal Daughters who settled down with
lovers. It hardly ever ended well, no matter what emotions were involved.
Inevitably, the man aged while the Daughter didn’t, and things got ugly when
one of them wanted to move on.

He couldn’t
imagine ever wanting to leave Indigo behind, though it wasn’t much of a stretch
to imagine the opposite.

She’d run from him
once, devastating his young heart. A second time would kill him.

He worried over
it during the short drive between Indigo’s apartment and his parents’ home. If
he could find a way to make her love him…

No. He of all
people knew love couldn’t be forced. Hadn’t he learned that the hard way?

But they were
friends and she cared for him, and his past didn’t seem to bother her nearly as
much as it bothered him. Those were good places to start.

His optimism lasted
until he eased his way into the back door and saw his mother sitting at the
kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee.

Well, damn
.

Resigned to the
inevitable, he poured himself a cup and sat down across from her, facing her
without any shame, though he felt like a kid sneaking in past curfew after a
night of hell raising that ended up in the morning paper.

“Good morning,
Bobby.”

Her voice was
light and even, her gaze sharp, and he was suddenly glad he was wearing a
collared shirt. He was pretty sure there was nothing to see. Indigo wasn’t a kid
to leave those kinds of marks and neither was he.

“Morning, Mom.
Dad not up yet?”

“He’s sleeping
in today.” She set her cup into its saucer with the barest clink. “He has a
doctor’s appointment later.”

“I can take
him,” he offered.

“He informed me
last night that he would drive himself.” Her smile was gentle. “This new
medicine has given him back a good deal of his independence.”

“That’s good.”
Bobby sipped his coffee, stifled a curse when it scalded his tongue. “Tell him
to call if he needs me.”

“I shall.” She
folded her hands on the table. “Thank you for texting me last night. I know
you’re a grown man and you’re free to come and go as you please, but I worry.”

“I know.” He put
his mug down, reached across the table, and grasped her folded hands, chafing
gently. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She
unfolded her hands to hold his. “I knew this day would come. I’m trying to be
happy for you.”

“You know how I
feel about Indigo.”

“I do.” Her
hands tightened on his and her lower lip trembled once before she pressed her
lips tightly together. “I’ve known since you were just a boy that she would
capture your heart and I would lose you to her.”

“No, Mom, don’t
think that.” He scooted forward and clasped both her hands in his. “Geez. You
women with your crazy notions.”

She laughed, a
short sound that carried as much heartache as it did joy. “Even when you tried
for her, I knew you were mine. While you were gone in the Army and out building
your company. All that time, you were my little boy, right up until the moment
you walked through that door and sat down across from me like the man you’ve
become. I’m going to miss you so much.”

“Mom.” He huffed
out a laugh. “I’m moving ten minutes away. You’ll hardly know I’m gone.”

“It’s not the
same.” She sniffed and patted his hands. “I assume you want my blessing, and
your father’s.”

“Of course, I
do.”

“But you’ll do
what you want, regardless of what I think,” she said in the cool voice she
reserved for adversaries, or people who’d pissed her off.

He met her
steely look with his own. “As you said. I’m a man, not a child.”

A flash of pride
crossed her face and was quickly replaced by the hard mask of a warrior. “If
she breaks your heart again, I’ll have to deal with her.”

“As the law
allows, but only that.” He picked up his mug, sipped the strong brew. “Even if
she hurts me, I’m duty bound to protect her.”

“And you know
your duty well,” she murmured.

“I’m my mother’s
son.”

She acknowledged
that with a cool nod. “Yes, you are.”

“She’s going to
come talk to you today.” He tapped his thumb against the rim of his mug. “Don’t
penalize her too harshly.”

“You’ve borne
her mark for years, Bobby, years when she forsook you.”

“That’s not fair
and you know it. She only learned about the
aenkanien
last night. The
decision to put it there wasn’t hers.”

“Still, the law
is the law and I have my own duties to consider. I won’t have you cast aside
penniless when she’s finished with you.”

He hunched his
shoulders, uncomfortably reminded of his earlier thoughts. “I can take care of
myself.”

“That’s not the
point. She has a financial obligation to you in the eyes of the People.” She
compressed her lips into a thin line. “The care of a Son who’s been claimed is
one of our most sacred laws.”

“Just keep in
mind that I’d like to have children before I’m too old to enjoy them.”

Her lips curled
into a smile and held such cunning, apprehension stole up his spine. “Don’t
worry, dear. I’ll make certain you have those children.”

“Mom,” he
warned. “Don’t meddle.”

Her eyes widened
innocently. “I would never meddle.”

“Yes, you would.
Try to be good, ok? When she becomes my wife, she becomes your daughter.”

“I know. She’ll
be a good daughter.” Her smile softened and a gleam entered her eyes. “But I
should be allowed a little fun, shouldn’t I?”

He groaned. His
mother having fun wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

He checked his
watch and grimaced. “I’ve got to get to work.”

“Do you want
some breakfast before you go?”

“Thanks, no.
I’ll catch some on the way in.” He stood and dropped a kiss to her forehead,
carried his coffee mug to the sink and rinsed it out. “I’m moving into Indigo’s
apartment tonight.”

“So soon?” She
rose and brought her cup to the sink. “Don’t you want to wait until after a
formal ceremony?”

He coughed to
hide a laugh. “Ah, we’ve already consummated our relationship.”

She blinked. “I
don’t like to think about you doing those things.”

“You know I’ve
had sex before,” he said, and grinned when she gave a mock shudder.

“My son is as
pure as the driven snow.”

“If it makes you
happy to think that, who am I to argue?”

He touched his
forehead to hers, then raced up the stairs to shower, change, and pack enough
clothes to last the rest of the week. His mother was waiting for him when he
came down. She opened her arms and held him tight, and sent him off with a kiss
and a look that said she had a special kind of fun in mind for Indigo.

He started his
truck and rolled the worry around in his mind. Sooner or later, Indigo would
have to learn to deal with his mother. She was woman enough to do it or he
would never have fallen for her in the first place. Still, the worry lingered
as he drove to work and spent the day trying to focus on running a business
instead of on the upcoming meeting between the two women he loved best.

* * *

Hours later, Indigo
sat on an overstuffed love seat in the waiting area of Rebecca Upton’s office
at the IECS. She smoothed a hand over the bun she’d twisted her hair into, touched
icy fingers to the pearls draped around her neck, and nearly jittered out of
her skin in her nervousness.

Claiming Bobby
wasn’t the problem. That morning, she’d awakened to find him gone with only a
vague, lingering memory of his goodbye kiss. In the cold light of day, she’d
taken the time to consider the matter without lust clouding her mind and
discovered a keen yearning to make Bobby hers in the eyes of the People.

To do so, she
would have to seek his mother’s approval. There was no way around it. The
People’s traditions blended and melded as societies changed and grew, but some
things remained sacrosanct. A Son was not forsaken. There was no wiggle room
there, not in their laws and not in her mind. Her duty was clear. Bobby must be
claimed, regardless of the circumstances surrounding the
aenkanien
he
bore.

It wasn’t solely
duty that drove her. She acknowledged that and then ignored it. Better to leave
it alone until she could ponder the ramifications of her inner motivations.

“The director
will see you now, Ms. Dupree,” the receptionist said.

Indigo rose and
took a deep breath before straightening the black business suit she wore. It
was her least favorite outfit, but a necessity. Bobby’s mother was a powerful
woman. One did not face her without being well-groomed and ruthlessly prepared.

She gripped the
handle of her briefcase and marched across the reception area, turned the
handle of the door leading to the director’s office, and entered.

It was a large
room, well-appointed with a graceful Queen Anne style desk at the back and a
small sitting area to the front, off to one side. Hand-woven rugs decorated the
hardwood floor. Books and memorabilia rested in shelving on either side of the
door. From the corner of her eye, Indigo caught a glimpse of the director’s
primary weapon, a sword that was thankfully still encased behind protective
glass.

Negotiations
such as these had gotten violent in the past. Hopefully, this one wouldn’t.

Rebecca rose
gracefully from behind her desk and walked around it. Her carnelian red suit
hugged her figure, highlighting the power of her form and position. “Indigo.
Thank you for coming by,” she said, as if the meeting had been her idea instead
of Indigo’s.

Indigo bowed
slightly. “Director.”

“Rebecca. I
insist.”

“Of course.”

Rebecca’s eyes
held a craftiness that sent a niggle of worry through Indigo, in spite of the
accompanying smile.

“Won’t you have
a seat?” Rebecca held her hand out toward the sitting area. “I think we’ll be
more comfortable here, don’t you?”

Indigo’s heart
stuttered in her chest. What was Bobby’s mother up to? She perched carefully on
the edge of a plush chair and set her briefcase on the floor beside it.

Rebecca sat down
on the settee, resting comfortably against the cushions. “How’s your mother?”

“She’s doing
well, thank you. The delivery was normal and she’s recovering quickly.”

“And your
siblings?”

“The babies are
fine.” Indigo softened automatically at the thought of the babies, then pulled
the emotion back, certain the director was about to strike. “They and Mámá
should be able to go home tomorrow.”

Rebecca folded
her hands in her lap, her face a polite mask. “How is India?”

And there was
the hit, a subtle reminder of Indigo’s connection with a rogue element of the
People.
Damn. Should’ve seen that one coming
. “I haven’t seen her in
some weeks, but I assume she’s doing well.”

“When you do see
her, please tell her I’d like to have a word with her.”

If she wanted to
see India, the director would have to get in line, right behind Indigo. “As you
wish.”

“I understand
your work at the Sandby borg site is complete. Have you decided to settle here
in Tellowee permanently or will you be moving to another job soon?”