He made a low sound of desperation, then grabbed me and quickly changed our positions. He hovered above me for several seconds, his gaze on mine, his body shaking with the fierceness of his control.
“No more,” he growled. “From here on in, I’m in control.”
And with that, he thrust inside me. I groaned in pleasure, but the sound was automatic, as were the responses of my body. Because the minute he entered me, I released the gate on my seeker skills, allowing my energy and aura to merge with his, letting it entwine as intimately as our bodies, until emotions and thought became something I could see and taste. I ran swiftly across the surface images, sensing within them a hunger I couldn’t explain—a hunger that was fierce, icy, and alien. I plunged deeper, seeking the darker recesses and hidden places. Saw, in rapid succession, fragmented images from his past—his actions, his lovers, those he’d murdered and become, and those he’d simply murdered. Then, deeper still, felt the anger, t
he desperation, and the fear of a world determined to destroy us. Saw four humanoid forms—two male, one female, and one that was something else altogether—become trapped by a bitter, alien, darkness that swept around and through them, merging their particles, making them one. Saw the four become three as one was killed and its blood and flesh consumed.
There was nothing more beyond that. Nothing but that bitter, alien darkness. It was as if he’d been reborn in that moment and everything that had gone on before then—everything he’d been and everything he’d done—had been erased. All that remained were vague, fragmented memories that made little sense.
Slowly, carefully, I withdrew from his energy and aura. As awareness of the here and now resurfaced, I reimmersed myself into the sensations flooding my body. Became aware of the fierceness of his thrusts, and of pleasure, spiraling ever tighter. His lips, hard on mine, demanding and desperate.
I wrapped by legs around him, pressing him tighter, harder, against me. His breathing became harsher, his tempo more urgent. The burn of desire built and built, until the need that pulsed between us became all-consuming and the air so thick with desire I could barely even breathe.
We came together, his roar echoing across the silence, his body slamming into mine so hard the whole bed shook.
When I finally caught my breath again, I took his face between my palms and kissed him long and slow, even as my gaze searched his, looking for any sign of suspicion, of doubt. There was nothing but languid contentment.
I wished I felt the same.
I had no idea what had happened to Sal, or what indeed those images truly meant, but one thing was clear.
This man—this déchet—wasn’t my Sal. He might have his scent, he might have his form, but the Sal I’d known had all but died just after the war’s end, when that oddly bitter darkness had combined his spirit and his flesh with that of three others. It was an event that had left him irrevocably changed, and in ways I couldn’t even begin to guess at.
The biggest problem, though, was not what he might have become, but rather the connection he now had with the other two who had survived.
Because Sal knew exactly what I was.
And that meant, somewhere out there in Central, two other people were also aware of it.
Or did it?
Because if the slate really had been all but wiped clean when they’d been caught in that alien darkness, then maybe he actually couldn’t remember much more than my name and the fact I’d been a lure—just like him.
Which in itself was telling, because the grays had never been designed as lures, and it certainly wasn’t a position Sal had ever been placed in. They were assassins, pure and simple, even if they sometimes used seduction to get closer to their targets. And while they could shape-shift in much the same manner as us, it was simply a means of making escape easier once they’d completed their assignment.
I really hoped the theory was true, because I didn’t need those other beings fully aware of my capabilities.
Sal rolled off me, then propped his head on one hand and studied me for several minutes. I returned his gaze evenly, even as I sensed the shift in his mood—the need for pleasure and release moving subtly to the need for answers.
It was a need that wasn’t coming from him, but rather from those who were now forever connected with him.
Sal might be inclined to trust me, but the other two were not. Which meant I could never, ever wear my true form. Not when I was with Sal, anyway. He might remember my scent, but there’d been no indication in the reading that he actually remembered what my true form was. And even though he knew I was a tiger shifter, he obviously thought my coloring was the more standard orange tiger. It did, at least, give me some leeway if I ever did have to resort to my own form here in Central.
“So when did you actually arrive here?” he asked eventually.
I waved the arm containing the chip and smiled. “According to my newly jigged chip, five days ago.”
“Retouching chip information is expensive—I thought you didn’t have any credits.”
My eyebrow rose. “Since when were credits the only form of payment?”
He grunted. “Where were you before Central?”
“Officially and unofficially, in Newport.” I paused, feigning a trace of confusion. “Why all the questions, Sal?”
He shrugged. “Just curious as to why I hadn’t come across you before now.”
A question I wanted answered in regard to him, as well. I mean, how could we have spent so many years sharing the same city and not come across each other before now? I might mostly be a recluse, but I still had to make regular runs into the city. And it wasn’t just for supplies, but to cater for those occasions when the desire for sexual contact overwhelmed the need for safety—something that happened every few months. What were the odds of both of us being in this city for so long, and never coming into contact? Or even catching the slightest scent clue?