Decima: One Mission - Chapter 9 - A'mara Books

9

(Silnaday)

Çtara Bus Lines, Bus 38

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Hrista accepted Kjane’s tongue again, wondering how much of it was acting and how much of it was lust. She was beginning to not care, however. His passion incited her own. Even the thumb which brushed the fullness of her bosom didn’t annoy her now, even though the telltale point in her shirt was a little embarrassing. He stroked it between his thumb and forefinger, playing with it and making her tingle in her crotch. She knew she was moist with arousal, but she would do nothing, could do nothing to fight it. Their lives depended on it, perhaps even continuing the passion when they got to where they were going. She found the thought very erotic.

“Keep thinking it,” he breathed. “It makes our act believable.”

“It is just an act, right?” she asked, becoming more and more unsure by the minute.

“As much as you want it to be,” he returned.

Hrista realized that she didn’t want it to be an act at all! But she couldn’t say that. Her feelings were out of control and it frightened her. He made her feel all sorts of things that she shouldn’t feel.

“You’re lying again,” he murmured. “But mostly, you’re lying to yourself. Tonight, you’re going to be mine.”

Hrista said nothing, but the conflict fought within her.

The hoverbus slowed in the middle of nowhere.

“Shit!” Kjane said, standing and grabbing his backpack.

“Just another stop?” Hrista asked.

“No. Wrap yourself and come on!”

She leapt to her feet, concerned by his tone. He waved his hand and the doors opened. He grabbed her hand and jumped, pulling her out with him, yet somehow steadying her as she landed. “Off the road!” he urged. “We must find a place to hide!”

Hrista looked back as they ran. Police vehicles were before and behind the bus and several officers were boarding.

“Don’t look back! Use your senses if you must!” he urged as they ran through the undergrowth of the large firthorn trees which surrounded them now. “As far as we can manage!”

They ran for quite awhile and Hrista was tiring quickly, not being used to such strenuous activity.

Not a moment too soon, Kjane pulled her into a hollowed tree that was almost hidden from view.

There they sat, heaving to catch their breath. “You’ve done well,” Kjane said, grinning. “Let’s just hope we don’t have to live out here the rest of our lives...”

“Who were they?”

“Besides police? Not sure, but I can’t believe it had nothing to do with us. Belmara is behind this, for sure.”

“Are we really safe then?”

“No, not really. Belmara will never stop looking for me. Or you, given your father!”

“Why?” she asked, genuinely unsure.

“Fain was named abári after Saraca died. Belmara wants you because she wants Fain!”

A terrible feeling settled in her gut at that. She had put Kjane in more danger just because of who she was!

“Don’t worry, Hrista,” he reassured. “Belmara wants me just as much. I cause her no end of grief. But she only wants me dead. You… she probably considers you breeding stock for the Balan.”

“What?!”

“Remember what I said about my friend?”

She nodded.

“Belmara took his 19-year-old girlfriend and gave her to her own 50-something son for that exact purpose.”

“You’re just saying that because you want me to go to bed with you!” Hrista accused with the only thing she could think of to keep a handle on the situation.

“You think I would do that? Okay, maybe… if I thought it would work.”

He grinned lustfully, but for some reason, it only made Hrista want him more.

“I think it’s time to teach you how to guard your thoughts better. As much as I love listening to you, it may save our lives. Maybe right now...” He described putting her thoughts into boxes inside her mind. Sometimes boxes inside of boxes… with padlocks, if needed. She practiced doing that, putting her feelings of doubt inside… along with her growing feelings of lust for Kjane.

“You can keep those ones out,” he invited.

She giggled. “No!” she replied, wishing she could turn those ones off completely.

The next moment, his lips were on hers again. Except this time, they were all alone in the Çtaráni rainforest, and he guided her to the soft needle-lined floor.

His hands went inside her shirt until they found the soft mounds of flesh which felt like they had been made just for him. His touch made her tremble and long for him. He lifted her shirt and took a nipple into his mouth, drawing it in as if he were a suckling child. He gummed the hardened buds, running his tongue across the tips and bringing a gasp from Hrista’s mouth.

Her hands ran through his long straight hair, unwilling to pull him away from her sensual pleasure. Suddenly, she realized there were others nearby.

Kjane instantly released her breasts and pulled her shirt back down. The finger he put to her lips was unnecessary as she held perfectly still, pulling her senses around her, hoping to hide within the leya as well as Kjane was.

Hrista feared her heart would give them away, so hard it was thumping with fear as she listened to the footsteps all around the hollow firthorn where they hid, Kjane still heavy upon her.

<Still your mind,> his voice came to her head.

She said nothing, but tried to blank her mind, thinking only of the black space above them in the tree. She closed her eyes to reinforce the blackness.

“Come out!” an authoritative voice called.

<Remain still,> Kjane projected to her.

“We know you’re in there! We’ll blow up this tree if we have to!”

Kjane sighed and got off Hrista, freeing her chest from his weight. But her breathing didn’t return to normal, neither did her heart calm. He stood, but didn’t look at her again.

“Don’t be a fool, Issyk,” the man said. “You are covered with her leya imprint. Come out, girl!”

Kjane looked toward her again. “Come on, Hrista.”

Hrista joined him. As the magna-cuffs were affixed to her wrists behind her, she wondered how Kjane was going to fulfill his promise to protect her – or if she was going to be at the mercy of others again.