all, because heâd known she would refuse to leave that place without taking every other captive along with her. And that would have been impossible.
So he hadnât gone back for her. And he knew damn well that part of the reason he wasnât telling her the truth about how they knew one another was because it would mean admitting what he had done. That heâd saved himself and left her behind, and that had been eating his soul bit by bit ever since.
Finishing the stall-cleaning in record timeâbecause leaving her alone in his haven made him nervous as hellâhe returned the tools to their places, closed the rear door and headed out the front, then along the winding pathway back toward the house.
Through the window, he saw her, a silhouette backlit by the fireâs amber glow, and the sight of her stopped him in his tracks. She was beautiful.
For years at The Farm, heâd watched her from a distance, and early on, heâd feared for her. Almost weekly, she would be punished for refusing to submit to the rules or learn the lessons or vow obedience to the DPI. More recently, sheâd been in trouble for trying to stir revolt in the others. The two of them had barely even talked. But eventually sheâd noticed him looking at her when they passed on the compound. The DPI kept their captive males separate from the females. They were closely guarded, their every moment scheduled for them, from lessons and training to limited recreation. They were told when it was time to take to their cots in their barracks, and told when it was time to rise and begin another day. Even their bathroom and shower usage was rigidly scheduled. There was little time to form friendships or have casual conversations.
He always saw her among a line of girls as they walked from their barracks to the classroom. He would be in a line of young men, walking the opposite way, after combat training.
When she noticed him, she looked back. And she kept looking. Day in and day out, that was their only communication. Until that last night, the night heâd left.
That night, he had crept into her barracks, hoping against hope that there would be some way to take her with him, avoiding the guard, risking everything for this one moment. And as the others slept, heâd slipped silently between the two rows of cots, straining his still-mortal eyes to see each sleeping face, until he found her.
She lay awake, eyes open, but not truly seeing. Sheâd been in isolation for the past week, drugged, punished for her ongoing disobedience. He couldnât imagine what had been done to her. And he didnât want to.
He thought sheâd been aware of him, even in her stupor, ever since heâd climbed, awkwardly, through the open window, and heâd paused momentarily when he met her curious, unfocused eyes. Then, when she opened her mouth to speak, he quickly put a finger to his lips to silence her.
At last he moved closer and knelt beside the cot. She rolled onto her side, propped her head on her hand, too weak even to hold it up otherwise, and stared at him, a thousand emotions in her eyes. A thousand questions. And a yearning that could not be concealed, even by the drugs still coursing through her veins.
Without a word, he cupped her face between his palms, leaned closer and pressed his lips to hers. He felt them part, felt them tremble, and then felt the warmth of her breath as she released it all at once. At last her arms slid around him, and his body caught fire. He kissed her more deeply, more passionately, and she responded with an eagerness that thrilled him. On and on they kissed, until someone in another bed stirred, and the sound made them jerk apart all at once.
She was breathing hard. So was he, and nearly too aroused to force himself to stop. Heâd never kissed a woman before that night. He was certain that she was every bit as innocent as him.
Leaning closer, his lips against her ear, he whispered,
So he hadnât gone back for her. And he knew damn well that part of the reason he wasnât telling her the truth about how they knew one another was because it would mean admitting what he had done. That heâd saved himself and left her behind, and that had been eating his soul bit by bit ever since.
Finishing the stall-cleaning in record timeâbecause leaving her alone in his haven made him nervous as hellâhe returned the tools to their places, closed the rear door and headed out the front, then along the winding pathway back toward the house.
Through the window, he saw her, a silhouette backlit by the fireâs amber glow, and the sight of her stopped him in his tracks. She was beautiful.
For years at The Farm, heâd watched her from a distance, and early on, heâd feared for her. Almost weekly, she would be punished for refusing to submit to the rules or learn the lessons or vow obedience to the DPI. More recently, sheâd been in trouble for trying to stir revolt in the others. The two of them had barely even talked. But eventually sheâd noticed him looking at her when they passed on the compound. The DPI kept their captive males separate from the females. They were closely guarded, their every moment scheduled for them, from lessons and training to limited recreation. They were told when it was time to take to their cots in their barracks, and told when it was time to rise and begin another day. Even their bathroom and shower usage was rigidly scheduled. There was little time to form friendships or have casual conversations.
He always saw her among a line of girls as they walked from their barracks to the classroom. He would be in a line of young men, walking the opposite way, after combat training.
When she noticed him, she looked back. And she kept looking. Day in and day out, that was their only communication. Until that last night, the night heâd left.
That night, he had crept into her barracks, hoping against hope that there would be some way to take her with him, avoiding the guard, risking everything for this one moment. And as the others slept, heâd slipped silently between the two rows of cots, straining his still-mortal eyes to see each sleeping face, until he found her.
She lay awake, eyes open, but not truly seeing. Sheâd been in isolation for the past week, drugged, punished for her ongoing disobedience. He couldnât imagine what had been done to her. And he didnât want to.
He thought sheâd been aware of him, even in her stupor, ever since heâd climbed, awkwardly, through the open window, and heâd paused momentarily when he met her curious, unfocused eyes. Then, when she opened her mouth to speak, he quickly put a finger to his lips to silence her.
At last he moved closer and knelt beside the cot. She rolled onto her side, propped her head on her hand, too weak even to hold it up otherwise, and stared at him, a thousand emotions in her eyes. A thousand questions. And a yearning that could not be concealed, even by the drugs still coursing through her veins.
Without a word, he cupped her face between his palms, leaned closer and pressed his lips to hers. He felt them part, felt them tremble, and then felt the warmth of her breath as she released it all at once. At last her arms slid around him, and his body caught fire. He kissed her more deeply, more passionately, and she responded with an eagerness that thrilled him. On and on they kissed, until someone in another bed stirred, and the sound made them jerk apart all at once.
She was breathing hard. So was he, and nearly too aroused to force himself to stop. Heâd never kissed a woman before that night. He was certain that she was every bit as innocent as him.
Leaning closer, his lips against her ear, he whispered,
Similar Books
