Winter Halo (Outcast 2)

“And I certainly do.”

“Then the fact is, I really don’t know. I’m trained in the art of seduction and assassination, and well versed in keeping my emotions under tight control. And yet, with you, that is nigh on impossible.”

“That’s a feeling I know very well.” He cupped my cheek, his touch gentle. Warm. “There are so many reasons why you and I are completely wrong.”

My lips twisted. “Are you trying to talk yourself out of the situation?”

“I’ve been trying to do that since I first met you. It hasn’t helped. I can no more ignore your presence than I can forget to breathe.”

He spoke with a certainty I’d yet to find. I knew what I wanted, but did I really have the courage to pursue it? To risk the heart my creators and history had been so sure didn’t exist? “And what of Nuri? And Branna? Won’t it cause problems within your group?”

“With Branna, undoubtedly. But I can deal with him.”

I hoped so, because Branna’s wish to wipe me out might well spill over to Jonas if he wasn’t very careful.

“Forget about what others might think or do,” he continued. “Forget about history and what we both are. None of it matters in the wake of the promise that lies between us. It is both impossible and undeniable, and it deserves to be explored, even if it is destined to do nothing more than flare bright and die quickly.”

It was the dying quickly—being left alone with nothing but the ashes of emotion—that had me so worried. I could survive chemicals and rifts, vampires and wraiths, but I wasn’t so certain I could survive having my heart broken.

But it wasn’t in me to give in to fear and walk away, either.

I swallowed heavily, then somehow said, “I agree.”

Instead of replying, he leaned forward and brushed his lips across mine. It was a kiss unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. It was so soft, so gentle, and altogether too fleeting, yet it ran with heat and passion. But there was something else, something indefinable—a whisper, a promise—that both scared me and thrilled me.

“Now we just need the time to explore,” he said eventually. “But that time is not now.”

His lips remained tantalizingly close, and part of me wanted to do nothing more than ignore the sense in his words and kiss him again. But we had children to rescue and a mad scheme to stop. We couldn’t waste the time we had left on pleasure, no matter how much either of us might wish otherwise—not that either of us was physically capable of acting on anything as strong as desire right now. “Let’s just hope both of us survive long enough to explore.”

“Indeed,” he said, then released me and stepped back. “We need to get back to the museum ASAP.”

I took a deep breath to calm thwarted anticipation and looked around. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

“We’re about fifteen kilometers north of where we were when the rift hit us.” He must have caught my surprise, because he smiled and pointed upward. “The stars always guide at night.”

“So the road is . . . ?”

“This way.”

He began to walk, and I fell in step beside him. Silence reigned. I wasn’t sure what to say. Wasn’t sure anything needed to be said. Dusk disappeared into night, and the stars became brighter in the skies. It seemed to take forever for the flat emptiness of the horizon to give way to the promise of trees and rising mountains. A stirring wind brought with it the smell of eucalypt and pine, and the ground around us grew rockier.

I frowned. “Are you sure this is where we left the vehicle? I can’t remember these rocks.”

“That’s because the rocks are the remains of the road.” He paused for a second, his gaze scanning the area. “Ah, here we go.”

He strode on. I followed and eventually spotted the vehicle—though the mass of twisted metal and rock no longer resembled anything that could remotely be called that.

I stopped a couple of meters away and watched him inspect the craft. He eventually retrieved a gun, two small flashlights, and the backpack; everything seemed to be in original condition, although how that was even possible I had no idea. He checked both flashlights; the bright bluewhite light that flared out from them made me blink. These weren’t ordinary flashlights, but ones designed as a counter to vampires. He switched them off and tossed one to me. Once he’d checked the gun, he tucked it and the other flashlight into a coverall pocket, then opened the backpack. His expression suggested whatever he’d been hoping to find inside wasn’t there—something he confirmed by tossing it back into the twisted remains.

I slipped the flashlight into one of the accessory pockets on my pants. We had no use for it right now, but who knew what we’d come across before we made it back to the bunker? “What now?”

I really didn’t fancy spending the rest of the night walking toward Central, but neither did I want to spend it here. Vampires might be scarce in the open plains, but they weren’t our biggest concern right now. Humanity as a whole might fear darkness, but that fear wouldn’t stop the rangers. If Sal’s partners were desperate enough—and if they had strong enough connections—they could order the search to continue through the night. The rangers would obey, because that was what all good soldiers did.

And the ranger division had been—and probably still was—the best of the best.

“Now we make ourselves as comfortable as possible and wait for the cavalry to turn up.” He reached into the mess of metal and tugged free what once had been the bac

k of a seat, but was now an elongated, five-foot-wide strip of lightly padded metal. He dumped it on the ground, then sat down and patted the space beside him. “Come along. I won’t bite.”