Chapter 28 Starting Over
The plane ride was long and relatively uneventful for them. Claire spent most of the flight ensconced in Wesker's arms, feeling safe and comfortable. While not sleepy in the least, she lazed there, her mind happily blank. Every so often, he would dip his head towards hers and press long, slow, delicious kisses to her pink lips, making her toes curl with pleasure, her hand clenching in his shirt beneath his coat. It was never more than a kiss, but it was still more than enough to make Claire feel needy and achy. She nuzzled deeper into his arms, inhaling deeply of his spicy, erotic scent, humming quietly with pleasure. It really didn't take much to make her happy.
They didn't speak to the Fahd's the entire time, Nisha having curled up against Fraser, her face pale and sweaty. He had his arms around her, holding her, much like Wesker was holding Claire. When the plane landed, Claire stretched the kinks out of her shoulders and neck from being pillowed against Wesker. Wesker stood, adjusting his shades, frowning slightly at Nisha's unwillingness to stand.
She was pale and sweaty and looked as if she were going to pass out. Fraser scooped her up into his arms and made for the stairs down to the black top. He turned to speak to them when he reached to bottom of the stairs. "Do not worry. She will be fine. If you get in the car there," he gestured with his elbow at the silver Escalade that was waiting. "They will take you to your new home. I shall take Nisha home and put her to bed." He smiled, then stepped into a different vehicle. He lay Nisha in the back seat and then got in beside her and the SUV drove off.
Claire frowned and stared after the vehicle. Wesker cleared his throat then gestured towards their own vehicle. "Shall we?" She shook her head then followed him, slipping into the back seat.
They drove for almost half an hour, through the city and out towards the open country. Claire was starting to get concerned when the road went from asphalt to dirt. She looked up at Wesker sharply, meeting his crimson eyes, a frown on his face. They turned down a private driveway and a rather large house stood there, looking almost like a small palace. The blue GE logo was tiled into the stone wall running down the length of the driveway, long, droopy willow trees shading the walls. Claire narrowed her eyes slightly. After having been kidnapped and imprisoned, she was leery of people in general. Never mind a long drive into the countryside in a country unknown to her and at five thirty in the morning.
The SUV pulled up beneath the portico and stopped. The driver got out and opened Claire's door for her, standing silently and unblinkingly behind it. Getting out, dragging her backpack with her, she glanced over her shoulder at Wesker. His face was hard, emotionless as he picked up their bag and made his way towards the door of the house. When he entered, he dropped the bag silently, his hand slipping beneath his coat to grasp the butt of his gun. The crunch of gravel in the driveway let them know that the Escalade was leaving. Claire stood in the doorway, her ears straining for any noise. Silently, Wesker conducted a sweep of the house, satisfied that all was clear. She let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding when he returned and nodded.
Slamming the door shut behind her, she marveled at the house. It was constructed to look like an Indian palace suite, although without the precious gemstones and rare metals. The walls were scalloped and arched, the walls and ceilings painted white. On the floor was a large rug, green vines over a white background. The paneling on the wall was a rich, dark mahogany.
Stepping into the house, she started to explore, surprised at how small it truly was. It was more than enough space for the both of them, but from the outside, the place looked absolutely palatial. She found two bedrooms, an office, an eat-in kitchen, two bathrooms, and the master suite all centered around a main living area. The master suite had its own bathroom which consisted of a giant round tub with jets, a large steam shower, and a fainting couch with cream and gold stripped upholstery. The floors and walls were made from the same dark stone, a skylight in the ceiling letting in light. The towels that were laid out were matching the cream and gold of the couch.
The bedroom was magnificent. The bedding was black with silver threads, making a very detailed medallion. The sheets were a silky black material, whispering over her skin when she touched it. The canopy of the bed was a cross of the same silky black material crossed above her head, each end fixed to a tall bedpost. A soft silvery light was placed in the middle, almost making the bed feel like a tent. She felt as if she were looking at a maharaja's bedroom, everything was so rich.
Dropping her backpack beside the bed, she pulled her gun from its holster and placed it in the nightstand drawer. She shrugged out of her coat on the way back into the living room. Wesker was already divested of his coat, his gun and sunglasses lying on his gloves as he sat in the living room, working already. Raising an eyebrow in irritation, she drug the duffel bag into the bedroom, dropping at the foot of the bed.
Drifting back out to the living room, she spied a metal spiral staircase that led up to a glass door. At the top, there was a glass door which opened out on a patio that had a breathtaking view of the mountains. Breathing deeply, she was glad to smell fresh air again. Recycled air on an airplane wasn't pleasant but it was still better than the gritty, toxic fumes of a big city, but nothing beat fresh, clean mountain air. There was a hint of rain on the air. There was a faint crackle of electricity in the air around her as well.
There was another door which led to a short hallway. There was only one door in the hall at the end which was made of steel, an electronic key card slot next to the door. Claire instantly knew where that led. Of course Wesker would have to have his own private lab. It made her curious if it was just a single lab, or if there was a whole hive of them beneath their feet like in Raccoon City. She shivered at the thought. She never wanted anything like that to happen again, but she knew better than to hope. The man she was in love with started the whole bioterrorism thing! She felt queasy at the thought.
Seeing him still on his computer when she returned to the living room, a wicked smile slowly crept across her lips, a gleam in her eye. She stepped up behind Wesker, pressing her lips to his neck, one hand slipping beneath the collar of his shirt to trace along his collar bones. His fingers stilled on the keyboard, waiting for her next move. One hand clutched a handful of his hair, pulling his head back so she could slant a kiss over his lips, making him groan quietly into her mouth, her hand slipping to the buttons on his shirt. Her tongue slid against his as she demanded he respond to her. His hand came up to tangle in her hair, pressing her closer. She nipped his lip, staring down into his fiery golden eyes, cradling his head in her hand. Her other hand had finally worked all the buttons free on his shirt, her fingers ghosting over his skin. Gently, she traced her nails over his side. She knew he wasn't ticklish, but it was one of his most sensitive areas, a small moan escaping his lips. He shoved his computer aside, then reached back and grasped the back of her shirt, yanking her over the back of the couch and into his lap.
His arms clamped around her like iron as she tried to wriggle into a comfortable position. Growling, he murmured, "Quit squirming." His hand stroked her face, then slipped down her neck shoving her vest to the floor. Her shirt clung to her body like a second skin, leaving very little to the imagination. Claire shoved his hands away from her and sat up, straddling his hips, running her fingers through his hair to pull him to her lips again. His fingers dove under her shirt, pushing it up and over her breasts, then trailing his hands back down, delighting in her silken skin, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. She shivered, pressing against him as she kissed him harder. Rolling her hips against him, he nearly groaned as she pressed against the growing bulge in his pants.
"Payback for the plane ride," she whispered in his ear, the tip of her tongue tracing the sensitive shell.
Wesker cocked his head at her quizzically. "I have no idea what you're talking about, dear heart," he said, sounding genuinely confused. He tugged aside the collar of her shirt, planting kisses down her shoulder.
Scraping her fingernails against his scalp, she groaned quietly. "If you had any idea what you do to me…" she trailed off, leaning back to give him more access to her skin. She shivered when she heard him chuckle darkly.
"What exactly do I do to you?" His voice was like dark chocolate; smooth, liquid, sinful. The voice of the devil himself. Then he was tossing her shirt aside; scattering burning kisses across the tops of her breasts, nipping at her collarbones. She sighed in pleasure, attempting to focus on the words she was trying to say.
"You drive me insane," she whispered, twisting her fingers in his hair again, staring into his eyes. Then she was kissing him roughly. "One touch of your lips and I'm a puddle on the floor. The way you say my name…" she trailed off as his hands guided her lips back to his. He clasped her to him, arms encircling her slim frame, lips devouring each other. "Albert…" she whispered, her eyes rolling back in her head as he kissed her neck yet again, his teeth scraping her skin.
A loud beep brought them both back to reality quite painfully as Wesker's computer alerted him to something. Stifling a groan, he lift Claire's shirt from over his computer where it had landed, handing it back to her. Rolling her eyes and glaring at the computer, she tugged her shirt back down, clambering from his lap. If it's not one thing, it's always another, she thought darkly, mentally giving the computer the finger.
Groaning softly to herself, she disappeared back out onto the balcony to watch the storm roll down from the mountains. She settled into a chaise lounge chair, curling her legs beneath her, idly threading her fingers through her hair, her brain still caught up in Wesker.
Did the man not know what he did to her? She used to try to tell herself that she was only imagining that he was that good. His kisses turned her to liquid; her knees went weak, her chest heaving, she saw stars in her eyes. The way the heat of his skin made her burn for him, whether just a brush of his arm against hers or his long, hot fingers pressing against her moistness, they made her ache for him. The look in his eyes as he whispered her name, her real name, the tenderness there could almost make her weep.
Sighing, she drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around herself as the air cooled from the imminent storm. Leaning back, she watched the clouds darken and the wind whistle louder through the trees, the heavy scent of rain filling the air. The cold rain would be a welcome relief for her hot skin. Wesker knew just what to do to make her burn. Swallowing a low groan at the memory, she settled deeper into her chair, purposely thinking of nothing, watching the encroaching storm.
Wesker's eyes flitted across the screen as he read report after report, his frown deepening. Over the last few weeks, the outbreaks that were thought to have been controlled by the Tricell vaccine were back and now spreading across the globe at an alarming pace. The symptoms were now more pronounced because there was a much larger scale on which to study.
It started with a runny nose and dry mouth, which both could be symptoms of the common cold. More and more cases of pink eye with colds were being reported from health facilities around the globe, most of them in the northern-most and southern-most parts of the hemispheres. Wesker noticed, however, that they were slowly creeping towards the equator. More and more patients were reporting fevers and nausea, horrifying bouts of sneezing which irritated swollen lymph nodes. A few, he noted, were reporting cases of hallucinations. People believing that there were insects crawling beneath their skin, which caused them to scratch bloody swatches in their skin, making spreading the infection alarmingly easy. The worst part was that it was slowly becoming resistant to the vaccines and they had just recently figured out that the disease was rapidly becoming air-born.
His frown turned into a full on scowl when he read that almost all of the patients who had come down with the infection had died. There was rapid tissue growth and most, cancerous pustules on their already shredded skin. Their lungs slowly filled with liquid as their kidneys failed, resulting in a pressure build-up within the bodies. The end result was rather like a human water balloon left too long on the faucet.
No wonder Fraser had been looking for him. He needed someone to manufacture his cure. Wesker's lip curled in disgust. He took his glasses off and tossed them on the table beside him. He needed to procure a sample of infected blood and start from there. Taking his phone from his pocket, he dialed a number.
The phone rang twice then Wesker thumbed the cancel button, silencing it. Snapping the lid shut on his computer, he placed it next to him, setting his phone on top of it and standing. He tilted his head up to see Claire's form on the balcony above him, his features softening as he took in her lithe form. Tearing his fiery gaze from her, he made his way to the liquor cabinet, pleased to find that it was stocked with expensive whiskey. He splashed some into a cut crystal tumbler, the amber liquid filling the air with its pungent aroma. Wesker did not, in the least, condone excessive drinking. A fine glass of whiskey or the like in the evening occasionally or the champagne at a party, but not the cheap beer and vodka he remembered arresting imbeciles for while captain of STARS.
Taking a sip, he let his gaze slip over Claire's form once again. His phone buzzed on his computer quietly. Stalking back to the leather couch, he snapped it open. "Speak," he demanded tersely.
"You called me, sir," a silky female voice purred. There was a faint hint of fear in her voice and Wesker only heard it because he knew she was afraid. Smiling dangerously, he slipped his sunglasses back over his eyes and chuckled darkly.
"If it isn't the lovely Miss Ada Wong," he said, his smile as cold as a sharks. "I have need of your services."
"Oh? And what services of mine might that be, Wesker?" she cooed.
"Don't flatter yourself, Miss Wong," he said coldly. "I hope you enjoy cold climates. I need you to acquire a sample for me from Argentina, Ushuaia to be precise."
She was silent for a moment. "What kind of sample might that be?" she asked, sounding bored. He pictured her rolling her eyes and frowned.
"I need you to acquire me a sample of this new virus that's sweeping the globe. I want you to bring it to India to my lab. A sample is necessary, however, a specimen is preferable." She was silent once again, although he could hear her breathing. He knew she was weighing her options but he grew more irritated the longer the silence grew. "I trust I do not need to remind you what happens if you were to refuse me, do I, Miss Wong?"
"Of course not. I'll dig out my parka," she said, her voice once more a seductive coo.
"You had best," he growled and snapped the phone shut once again. That woman irritated him but she was the best in her field. He had never had a more resourceful or reliable insubordinate, except, perhaps Chris Redfield. Growling at that thought, he took a swallow of his whiskey, enjoying the burn down his throat. It pooled in his belly like liquid fire. Making himself comfortable once again on the couch, he picked up his computer and set to work once again.
A sharp crack of thunder brought Claire out of her musings just as a mother nature let loose the clouds. She squeaked as cold raindrops soaked through her t-shirt and jeans, plastering them to her skin. Her bangs plastered to her forehead, she slammed the door shut, shaking the excess water from her hands and face. She giggled as she descended the stairs to the main floor, wiping her face and flicking water everywhere.
Wesker looked up at her in irritation as she flicked a few drops of rain at him. Then his eyes caught on her luscious form, cloth sticking to her like a second skin, accentuating curves and valleys. Her hair was plastered alluringly across her shoulders. Bright green eyes peeked out of sodden bangs, lips curved in a giggle.
With a flash, he was standing behind her, his computer, sunglasses and phone left carelessly behind him on the couch. One hand was slipping beneath her shirt, the other lift her hair away from her neck to tangle in his fingers as he pressed his burning lips to her chilled skin. His hand slid beneath her shirt, caressing the expanse of her flat stomach, feeling her shiver from the chilly rain and the heat of his mouth on her skin. "You are the worst form of torture," he ground out, nipping her neck. Her heart raced in her chest as his heated breath skimmed her ear and down her throat. He held her back against him, his fingertips brushing the waist of her soaked jeans. With an almost inaudible groan, he tore himself away from her. "Go get changed, dear heart, and I will show you the labs." Anything to keep my thoughts from your pale, pale skin.
With another shiver, Claire stepped away from him and towards the bedroom, feeling his heated gaze on her the whole way. She looked over her shoulder at him, meeting his gaze for a moment, then slipped into the room. Entering the bathroom, she peeled her wet clothes from her chilly skin and dropped them on the floor with a splat. Picking up a fluffy towel from the stack next to the bathtub, she wrapped herself within it. She could have groaned at the sheer extravagance. Quickly, she dried bare skin, then sauntered back into the bedroom to rummage through their duffel bag.
She pulled out under garments and her black dress pants. It was followed with a plain white t-shirt and clean socks. Nothing beat clean socks. Shimmying into her black panties and slipping on her bra, she finished getting dresses, braiding her hair down her back. Once more, she put her black boots on, uncaring if she was wearing dress pants. She braided her hair down her back as she walked back out to meet Wesker for her grand tour.
A/N: I hate this chapter. It took way too long to write and it didn't turn out the way I wanted. I am not abandoning this story! I repeat: I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS STORY! However, it may take a while for me to update again. I am losing my Microsoft Word program and I will be going away for a week or so. I realize I've been updating almost every three days, but I promise, it will get finished!
Your reviews are what keep me going. Thank you so much to littlevamp, Oh-insanidad, and Lady La-sara for their input after each chapter. I appreciate it more than you know!
Thank you!
Lady Anwe
