Chapter 2: 8 Months Ago
Alec followed the messy lines of Max's wavy hair as they spilled past her slender neck, over the curve of her shoulder, and down toward the middle of her back, the tiny columns of runes creating something of a curved pinstripe pattern near her waist, over the swell of her ass, and down the backs of her long, toned legs. She gently bent toward the faucet to splash some water on her face.
The small bathroom's porthole window let in enough light that when she stood up again, it silhouetted her head in a halo. His own personal angel. His own personal angel who sometimes wore fatigues and combat boots, who was a better improviser than anyone else he'd met, who had a short fuse and a stubborn streak to rival a bull's. His own personal angel who loved him, too.
Light shined on the water droplets as a couple of beads made their way down her neck and toward her breasts. He'd never been so jealous of water his whole damn life.
She smeared those droplets to dry them and turned to look at Alec, sprawled on the bed, his pupils eclipsing the hazel of his irises, and his erection lengthening. She was already feeling the slow-building throb between her legs, and when he glanced down at her sex, she felt her muscles clench and closed her eyes, tilting her head to the side, a small lightning bolt of pleasure coursing through her body.
When she opened her eyes again, he stood next to her, turned her by the shoulders so she faced the mirror, and pushed up behind her. He curled his fingers around the bulk of her hair and swept it off of her back, over her opposite shoulder.
In the mirror, she could see how transfixed he was by her shoulder. He didn't break his stare once ā just leaned down and puckered against the skin at her neck. His brow twitched minutely and he closed his eyes.
"What?" Max had a niggling feeling there was a reason behind his eyebrow tick.
He sighed softly and opened his eyes, removing his lips from her shoulder. "You are missing a few runes."
She bent forward toward the mirror and tried to roll her shoulder forward to see which runes had disappeared. It was a move borne more from curiosity and less from panic.
Alec's left hand moved through the space between her waist and elbow, pulling her back to him by his gentle grasp on her waist.
Max fixed him with a soft stare in the mirror. "You think it was the tsunami, or..." She nodded toward the bed.
Alec circled his right hand around her waist, looking down to the line of her spine and stopping shy of licking his lips with hunger. He wasn't sure if those runes were there after the tsunami or not. They'd been preoccupied. But if their lovemaking was the cause of runes disappearing, they could discern that in other ways. "Only one way to find out," he said, turning her around in his embrace and leaning down to kiss her.
Rubbing her hands up his chest and circling over his shoulders, Max pushed into the kiss, the embrace, and smiled against his lips when she felt his hands cup both her cheeks and then sweep under them to pick her up by the thighs. She pulled her legs up around his waist, groaning at the feeling of his hardness at her stomach.
It took most of her willpower not to just lift herself up higher on his body and sink down onto his thick shaft. Just thinking about it made her grind her teeth in frustration and squeeze her legs tighter around his hips.
He quickly carried her the few steps' distance to the bed and fell into the soft sheets, still attached to her at the lips. He broke their kiss to smear his lips down her body, starting at just below her ear, where he caressed the tiny runes with the flat of his tongue before continuing down.
The further down he trailed, the more Max writhed under him in anticipation, anxious for the contact she desired, for some kind of completion, but all she could focus on were his lips pressing between her breasts, down the slope of her abdomen, down to her inner thigh, everywhere except the one area achingly dripping for his attention.
His warm palm slipped up her body, and in her near-crazed lust, she grabbed his hand and pulled it onto her breast. Instinctively, he massaged it, kneading it lightly before pinching her already erect nipple hard, eliciting a pained groan from her at the exact moment he pressed the tip of his skilled tongue to her clit.
With her arched back lifting off the bed, Max whined his name and was rewarded with a sharp nibble and smooth, warm swipe against her sex. She reached down unconsciously and pulled him closer by the hair, calling out his name again.
She whined again when he detached from her to reach for the condoms. "Maxie, you're having a hard time giving up control, aren't you?"
His hair was messed up on the side where she'd tried to pull him closer. She was pulsating from his ministrations thus far, and she sat with her legs slightly parted, waiting while he took for-goddamn-ever to pick a condom and sheath himself.
He paused when it was rolled on all the way, giving himself a few firm strokes at the sight of her before settling between her knees again.
She slid her hands up to his neck and pulled him toward her. "Finally. I was beginning to think you were going to just play with yourself all night."
He laughed deep and low, and Max could feel the vibrations of it where their stomachs touched. She smiled; that low rumble was amazing.
"So bossy," he said, relishing proudly in the way her eyes rolled back when he teased her opening with his tip.
Her brows tilted up, a vulnerability washing over her features, her pupils growing wider in tune with his. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to control herself, and only then did he slide into her. She hummed unintelligibly, but approvingly.
He thrust slowly but deeply and lowered his lips to hers, suddenly enveloped in the perfection of making love to his woman, discovering her anew with every sense, discovering her nuances with combinations of plush lips on shoulders sweet from sweat, her taste coursing through his body like a stoked fire. His fingertips conversed along her skin, etching a new invisible language over the runes.
Through the closed door of the bathroom, Max heard the powerful suction sound of the toilet flushing and then the faucet running. She had pulled the sheet up over her naked form, but only out of some sense of decency. Plus, even though Alec was an endurance model X-series, she wanted to give them both time to recharge their batteries.
When the bathroom door opened, Alec slipped out and climbed on top of the sheets next to her. He settled against the pillow and Max turned onto her side to look at him.
She didn't want to say it out loud to add fuel to the fire that was his ego, but he truly was a skilled lover. They made love for hours, prolonging one another's pleasure, until her voice became raw from the screaming, and the cradle of her sex, sore and sated. He looked a little beaten up, too, with the scratch marks on his back and the little teeth marks on his chest and shoulders. But he was smiling back at her, his eyes vibrant with joy. She loved that look in his eyes.
"So," Max began. "Sandeman had you studying poetry."
Alec turned onto his side to face her and propped his head up with his hand. "Yeah. Lots of different kinds."
"Why?"
The corners of his mouth turned down for a second. "I'd like to say he's the ultimate wingman, but I think he did it because he probably wanted to hide messages in it. You know, like that guy in the S1W did."
"What kind of messages?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I have thought through them over and over, and I can't really come up with anything."
"But you remember them, though?"
He saw the spark of an idea in her eyes. "Yeah, I remember them."
She started to sit up, which made Alec think that gravity was the ultimate wingman, because the sheet slipped from her chest, revealing a little more cleavage, his marks mixed in with the runes. "Well, maybe recite them to me? Maybe something'll stand out. Maybe you were supposed to read them to me?"
She pulled the sheet up a little, sensing it would be too much of a distraction for him to recite poetry to her while she was topless. And if he recited poetry to her while she was topless, there was no telling how far they'd get before she'd drop the sheet the rest of the way and straddle him.
He sat up, too. He was excited about the possibility that she might glean something, anything, from the mystery of Sandeman having him study and memorize poetry. "Okay, first one. Robert Frost's Fire and Ice." He proceeded to recite the small poem.
Max pursed her lips, thinking about the words. She shook her head. "Other than the feeling of the impending apocalypse by fire or ice, I really don't get anything from that. There was the earthquake and tsunami, but I don't know if those are some kind of precursor for something bigger, or if it's just a coincidence."
"Maybe it has to do with the nature of disaster. Fire and ice are opposing extremes. Not all that predictable, but ferocious and consuming. One quick, one slow. One burns up everything in its path, one freezes everything in its place. Both destructive, though."
Max hummed thoughtfully. Several of their training courses at Manticore involved surviving extreme fire, such as the course in which the unit had to find a way out of a burning structure, or utilizing the energy of fire or extreme cold to obtain success, such as the course in which the unit had to lower their body temperatures to near-death lows by whatever means necessary so as not to be detected by the enemy's thermal infrared scanners. "Okay, next one."
Alec recited God's Grandeur next.
The flowery language was like a cipher that Max tried desperately to break. "There's something kind of either precious or predatory about the Holy Ghost in there," she said, imagining it over the world, waiting for its regeneration. It wove a common thread through nature and humanity, and in that thread, Max found strength.
"Yeah, I know what you mean. There's a hope there that even though we fall, we are not beat; that if we lose, not all is lost; that we rise up again by sheer will because it is in us."
She stared at him, mouth falling open in an expression just shy of astounded. "That's very astute, Alec." She expected intelligence from him in various forms ā tactical, practical, common sense ā but this was something else.
The corner of his mouth twitched up as he stared past her for a moment, wondering if Ben would have the same interpretation. Was this what Hopkins had endeavored to express?
"What are you thinking," Max asked, eager to have him look into her eyes again.
The spell broken, Alec returned to her and cleared his throat. "I was thinking about Yeats' The Second Coming. It was one of the poems I memorized, too."
She waited for him to continue, and listened carefully as he recited it. "Wow, that's⦠really dark and foreboding. If I didn't already have nightmares about blood-dimmed tides and anarchy and beasts, I sure would get them now." At Alec's understanding nod, she continued. "Do you really think that that's going to happen? Blood tides and mass drownings, and each of us being picked off one by one and devoured by vultures?"
And suddenly, it seemed like a very real threat to Max. There was already the tsunami, the earthquake, maybe even more that hadn't yet been reported. What if it was all because of her and these runes and this prophesy? What if these disasters were just the tip of the catastrophic iceberg? The desolation that seemed to be looming on the horizon was suffocating her, and then she thought back to that burning cell from her regression. Would that be her final demise?
She felt Alec scoop her against his chest, pressing her closer and closer to the steady beat of his heart. He tucked her head under his chin. "We're going to figure this out, Maxie. This isn't your fault."
Tears sprang to Max's eyes and dripped over the ridge of her nose onto his skin.
