“Why won’t you talk to me?” she called after him, shouting at his back. “Dammit, Duncan! You said you would try. You promised me you would try.”
But he didn’t respond.
He’d told her he couldn’t take it anymore. A snake lived inside him, filling him with poison, and he didn’t want to hurt her.
But he’d hurt her anyway, idiot that he was.
And he wouldn’t talk to her.
She sighed heavily as she returned to the Ops Cave, not wanting to follow Duncan just yet. She lived in the master bedroom of his Paradise Valley Two home, while Duncan had moved to a guest room. He’d insisted she stay since her beautiful forest cottage had been destroyed by Third Earth wreckers. Duncan’s offer of shelter made him a good man, which hurt her all the more.
She took up her bar stool once more, and continued sipping her water. She was queasy, probably because of fatigue and a too-tight weapons harness. She rubbed the dagger hilts of the two blades angled along her waist.
None of the men would meet her gaze. Each stared at the floor or the walls, anything but her.
She felt like apologizing for making a scene. But she knew these guys; they’d only be embarrassed. They’d probably heard most of the exchange anyway, vampire hearing being as sensitive as it was. And most certainly, they’d heard her shouting at Duncan. But they were a team now, and very little could remain hidden, especially when it came to a relationship between two members. Besides, they ought to have an understanding of what was going on between herself and Duncan.
She just wished to hell she knew what to do with him.
CHAPTER THREE
Sometimes surrender requires
The greatest courage of all.
Collected Proverbs – Beatrice of Fourth
Duncan reached the out-going landing platform, got the okay from the Militia Warrior in charge, and folded himself straight to his bathroom at his Paradise Valley home.
His thighs tingled up through his groin and all because the breh-hedden kept torturing him with Rachel’s rich garden scent. He sniffed his shoulder near his weapons harness. Rachel had touched him there, fondling his muscles. He could still smell her on him and he wanted more, craved more.
He was in pain.
Sure, he took care of himself in the shower, and always with images of Rachel streaming through his head. But it wasn’t the same as being buried deep, tasting her blood on his lips, hearing her moan. He loved the sounds she made when she was aroused and especially when she came.
Tonight, he’d almost relented. Even now, he listened hard to any sound of Rachel returning home, wondering if he should go to her.
He’d given her the master bedroom for the duration. A month ago, wreckers had taken her cottage down to the foundation in the Seattle One Colony. Yolanthe had wanted Rachel dead for the simple reason Rachel had the power to create a protective shield around him, something she’d done tonight.
In the meantime, Rachel had nowhere else to go so of course he’d offered his home, even if he couldn’t be close. He’d thought about moving into his cabin on the Mogollon Rim, a place he’d bought several months ago, but he didn’t feel easy about being separated from her. If Yolanthe ever located Rachel on her own, the madwoman would kill her.
He stripped off his battle leathers and put them in a hamper. His housekeeper came by every afternoon, picked up whatever was there, then took it to Murphy’s for laundering. He had good staff.
He punched his chest with his fist a couple of times, wishing he could fix what was wrong inside him. He hated himself for not being with Rachel, for not taking care of her. But proximity had become a snake that bit hard, adding poison until his gut writhed and he could hardly breathe.
Stepping into the shower, he moved under a hot stream of water and worked at letting go. He scrubbed his body down hard, washed his hair, tried to relax. But a half hour later, after toweling dry, he still felt like shit and knew sleep wouldn’t find him anytime soon.
He put on some shorts and headed to his workout room. After a few minutes of stretching, then jogging on his treadmill to warm up, he gave himself to a whole lot of iron and a punishing regimen.
Though he’d spent hours battling death vampires, grid wreckers, and trying but failing to reach some level of competence with Merl’s Third Earth drills, he still wasn’t loose.
A good lay would have helped. For that reason alone, he’d almost taken Rachel up on her offer.
Rachel.
God help him.
Ten lifts. Switch up the weights. Ten more. Repeat.