PART THIRTY TWO

Tess lay in bed with her swollen ankle propped on top of a pillow, rotating it slightly so the ice bag shifted, hopefully soothing more of the angry bruising and heat. Her ankle was at least twice its normal size and she ached right through her instep and up into her calf. But she couldn’t bother Max and Liz with such a minor injury, not at 6:30 a.m., when they’d barely gotten three hours sleep. For all she knew, Max still needed healing himself since Liz had been unsuccessful in her ministrations while they rode through the desert darkness.

She hadn’t even mentioned her injury to them, or drawn anyone’s attention to it—instead, she’d forced her gait to fall in an even and natural pace, lest one of them feel responsible, or attempt to heal her. Max needed mending first, that much was indisputable.

Everyone had been stunned by his battered state when they’d shown up at the bunker, yet Tess was well aware of how much he despaired, because she’d felt it resonate through her when she’d touched his arm.

Such a simple gesture, yet it had offered a photograph of Max’s body and soul at that exact moment--and Tess had prayed ever since that Liz would be able to apply the healing balm that he needed. Somehow Tess sensed that it wasn’t just his broken ribs and disfigured face—Nicholas had exacted a heftier, more soulful price than she could pinpoint.

Tess raised herself up on her elbows to stare at her ankle again, which had turned mottled shades of blue and black, and had certainly prevented genuine sleep from enveloping her. She’d spent the past four hours somewhere on the borderland between rest and wakefulness, the net result being a sort of fitful netherland. She dropped her head heavily back onto the pillow again, squeezing her eyes shut against the intrusive first rays of morning light. Her whole body throbbed and she wanted nothing more than just a bit of genuine rest, anything to ease the pain and exhaustion.

Tess wasn’t sure how long she lay like that, threading in and out of wakefulness, when a noise beside the bed caught her attention. She turned her head sideways on the pillow, peeking one eye open, and was shocked to find Marco standing right next to her bed. She sat up so quickly that the thick quilt instantly fell away, exposing her white silk bra—she hadn’t brought any pajamas, and had simply slept in her underwear instead.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" She cried, fumbling with the comforter in an effort to cover her bare skin, and Marco quickly averted his eyes, as she wrapped the quilt around her chest. "How did—I thought you were still with Nicholas!" Tess exclaimed, blushing at the realization that her words came out in staccato stutters, confused and flustered.

Yet Marco only smiled gently in response, his single dimple appearing as he slowly knelt beside her bed, no longer towering over her. "I am at Nicholas’s," he explained quietly, studying her with his black eyes, as he continued to smile his lop-sided grin.

"But—then how are you here?" She stammered, still confused as to why his presence seemed so concrete, not ethereal like in all her previous dreams of him—and wondering why his simple appearance in her room had already left her so breathless.

He reached a hand to her hair, slowly caressing the length of it. "How’s your ankle?"

"My ankle?" She asked in confusion, beginning to grow a little frustrated with his calm demeanor.

"You’d broken it last night…when I saw you." His voice was even and measured, but his eyes betrayed something else entirely—a definite smoldering heat illuminated his dark gaze.

"How’d you even notice that?" She asked, fingering the edge of her quilt nervously. After all, Marco knelt just beside her and she was practically naked, she reminded herself.

"I felt it when we were connected," he explained.

"Are you even here?" she asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

"In your dream, yes," he whispered, trailing his large hand down onto her shoulder, soothing her in a strangely metaphysical way. Something radiated from his touch, a familiar energy that Tess couldn’t quite place--but it left her drowsy and terribly aroused all at once.

"Why does this feel so real, like you’re right here in my room?"

"Our dreams are changing, now that our powers have joined," he explained softly, still stroking her hair. He lifted the ends to his lips, pressing loving kisses against the tresses, and she sucked in a breath at the gesture. "Our dream meetings are only going to become more lifelike, sweet Tess."

"I-I don’t understand."

"We’re partially bonded now, love."

"That’s not possible." She shook her head in disagreement. "We haven’t…"

"We don’t have to," he interrupted, placing a hand on her thigh as he leaned in so close that she could feel his warm breath. "We made a conscious choice to join our gifts last night and that’s a certain level of bonding…pre-mating, if you will."

"What are you saying, Marco?" Tess murmured, as he cupped her face within his dark hands. His black, soulful eyes just gazed down into hers, and her breath caught at how beautiful he was.

"You tell me," he urged softly, his voice deep and rich. "What do you think I’m saying?"

His full lips grazed hers, and she felt herself lean into him, her mouth parting. "Tell you?" She was breathless, dizzy from his proximity, especially because his heady, familiar scent fanned across her skin, nearly intoxicating her.

"What do you think we are now…to one another?" He just hovered that way, his mouth over hers, yet not meeting her lips. "What’s changed between us now, Tess?"

"Our need."

"Yes."

"It’s greater now…even more intense," she managed to breathe, her lips parting, yearning for him to kiss her.

"Yes." He wrapped his voice around the simple word, making it something much more intense.

"Because we…what?" Tess asked, begging him with her eyes for an explanation, even as she licked her lips begging for more of him.

"Because a part of us has already mated, sweet Tess," he offered softly, allowing their lips to finally meet. "The joining of our powers wasn’t meant to happen until we’d actually joined souls. But we had no choice."

"And now the hunger only grows."

"Yes, love."

She traced her thumb along his full lower lip, then trailed her fingertips over his dark beard stubble. Her skin was so pale compared to his lovely olive complexion, and in the early morning light he seemed more exotic than ever—long black lashes and moody eyes, beautiful Mediterranean looks—the exact opposite of her fair coloring and pale, blue eyes. She was aware that her breathing had become quite labored, as she leaned her forehead against his for a moment—and she felt his chest heaving with his own uneven breaths.

"Then this is only a dream?" She asked helplessly, slipping her arms around his neck, not even caring when the comforter fell loose around her hips. He cupped her bare waist within his large palms, pulling her closer against his chest. He wore only a soft white t-shirt and boxers, and Tess realized with a giddy laugh that he’d appeared to her in his own sleeping attire.

"A dream that reflects what our hearts want," he explained, running his palms across the bare skin of her back. "What our bodies crave."

He pressed further in against her legs, and as he did, she felt how truly aroused he’d already become. Discreetly, she allowed her gaze to drop low, and saw how his cotton boxers bulged dramatically, jutting nearly straight out with his erection.

"Then why are you just… kneeling on the floor?" She asked breathily, feeling suddenly brazen, as she lifted the sheets back in invitation. She pushed the quilt further back, deliberately revealing not only her bra, but also her white silk panties. His gaze flickered a moment, wandering low, and then he stared at her through dark, hooded eyes, a seductive smile forming on his lips.

"I mean, if this is a dream, then can’t we… do anything we want?" Tess questioned boldly, feeling her face redden at her own question. "I mean, we could, right?"

"Would you really want to?" Marco paused, laughing softly as he eased up onto the bed beside her, slipping beneath her comforter as she scooted sideways. "I mean, would you want to do that in a dream before we had…in person?"

And then he was right there beneath the sheets with her, his bare legs grazing against her own, so intimately that she could feel the light dusting of hairs along his lower thighs and calves, as he pulled her into his strong arms. She was aware that her breathing had begun falling in ragged pants, as he pulled her hips flush up against his, his arousal pressing hard against her thigh.

"Marco," she murmured softly. "If we’re always apart…how else…"

He didn’t allow her to finish, but instead began kissing her neck, trailing his full, warm lips along her exposed skin. His kisses were searing and slow, not devouring, just so very loving and addictive. She felt his warm palms against the small of her back, as he drew her even closer against him, and she marveled that her ankle didn’t even hurt as she slipped her thigh between his legs.

She eased her hands beneath his cotton shirt, gasping at the feel of his muscled abdomen and chest—she’d never glimpsed him except fully clothed, and hadn’t quite expected that he’d be so firm beneath her touch. She rubbed her hands upward along his warm skin, until she found his nipples. He moaned softly against her neck, as she rubbed them between her fingertips, feeling his silky chest hair. With a smile, she noted that he had only the lightest patch of hair on his chest, which pleased her immensely, because she loved how smooth his skin felt to her touch.

In response, she felt his fingers explore her own body, trailing ever upwards, until he cupped her breast, eliciting a helpless cry from her lips. He began rubbing her nipple, until it sprang to life beneath his touch, even as he began pressing hot kisses lower on her neck, until his mouth met the soft silk material of her bra. His dark head was buried against her chest like that, as he tugged gently at her bra, planting desperate little kisses along her exposed flesh.

She ran her hands through his thick, wavy hair, and even as short as it was now, the curls still gave it his usual tousled look, which she found undeniably sexy—especially as she threaded her hands greedily through the dark expanse of it.

Amazingly, they’d never been anywhere near this intimate--never this physically close-- in their waking life, and now she was exploring the planes of his chest, feeling his body--even as his mouth and fingers plundered beneath her bra. Slowly, she eased her thigh upward, where it pressed between his legs, until she made contact with his most intimate place, and he cried out quietly at the touch.

He pressed the material of her bra lower, his tongue and lips exploring her full breasts hungrily, as he began fumbling with the clasp on her bra. He tugged at it a bit, finally just focusing his attention on what he could reach by pressing the silky fabric low with his thumb. His mouth made contact with her nipple, the coolest sensation shooting across her skin as he drew it into his warm mouth. She cried out, arching back into her pillow, as he laved her nipple slowly with his warm tongue.

She wanted all of him, needed so much more than this—the drive was nearly primal and in that moment as she realized he was absolutely right about what had changed. She now needed him with the hunger of a mate, and yet she had no claim on him yet, only this desperate craving. She began slipping her thigh between his legs more quickly, needing so much more.

Suddenly, she felt his palm splay against her upper thigh, easing her leg down a bit from between his thighs.

"Tess…" He begged gently. "Please, sweetheart."

"If it’s only a dream, then we can do whatever we want," she urged, her heartbeat suddenly quickening at the possibility. "You can make love to me, but it will only be a dream."

"Not like this, Tess," he whispered, slipping his hand out of her bra again with a heavy sigh. "Please, wait for me."

"But it seems like we’ll always just be apart," she cried plaintively.

"Ah, love, that’s where you’re wrong," he breathed in her ear. "You have no idea how soon we’ll be like this in our waking life. This is just a foretaste, something to whet your appetite for me."

"My appetite?" She coughed, feeling her face flush terribly.

"For this," he amended, cupping her sides with his large hands, drawing her more tightly against him.

"God, Marco," she groaned. "Do you really think I need any foreplay to want you?" She realized too late how desperate her words sounded, how she’d nearly groaned them, when he pulled back and stared down into her eyes seriously. She collapsed against the down pillow, her head sinking deeply into it, and he followed her with his mouth, so that now his lips hovered just over hers.

"I never thought you needed any at all," he paused, stroking her hair as he sought the right words. "Well, neither of us needs…help in desiring the other. I know I certainly don’t, because I’ve burned for you ever since Las Cruces."

He kissed her slowly, deeply as his tongue pressed her lips apart. "I just meant that soon we will be together like this in real life, and until then, this is just a promise of what will be."

"Oh," she sighed softly. "And what will be?"

"I will make love to you long and slow, drawing your soul right into mine," he whispered, staring into her eyes so intently that it seemed his black depths flashed with fire. "And when we’re done, we’ll have mated for life…for eternity."

There were no words she could offer, as they stared at one another and she felt his strong heartbeat against her chest. Hot tears stung her eyes, and she realized that nothing about the moment felt like a dream. His flesh was real, his body so warm against hers, and his pulse so erratic that she felt the thread of it against her heart.

Quite simply, Marco McKinley was right within her arms, not hundreds of miles away.

"You’re not in Nicholas’ camp," she questioned, her eyes narrowing suddenly. "Are you?"

He laughed slowly, his familiar, throaty rumble, and shook his head slowly. "Ayanna," he whispered. "I wish it weren’t a dream because then I’d be in your arms, but you are asleep, as am I. And now we must part."

"No," she cried, as she clung to his neck. "Don’t go yet. No!"

Tess, a familiar voice called. Tess…Tess, and she felt hands on her shoulder, softer and smaller than Marco’s. Marco smiled at her silently, rising from the bed.

"Soon," he promised. "Very soon. But we must defeat our enemies first."

Tess’s eyes opened suddenly, and she discovered Liz sitting on the edge of her bed, rousing her with a soft shake against her shoulder.

"I’m sorry to wake you up," Liz explained gently. "But it’s almost noon and Max has called a meeting."

"Noon?" Tess asked groggily, confused as to how so much time had elapsed. How had so many hours passed so quickly? She sat up, running a hand through her hair.

"You were talking in your sleep," Liz offered with an unreadable expression. "I hated to wake you."

"Oh," Tess answered, her voice strained and too bright, as her face instantly reddened. What had Liz heard? "Wh-what was I saying?"

Liz slid down to the end of the bed, cradling Tess’s ankle gingerly within her hand. "Why didn’t you tell me you’d broken this?" Liz asked, avoiding her question.

"Max needed you much more than I did," Tess answered simply.

"But I’ve been awake for hours, and could have seen to this," Liz explained, tracing her thumb over the bruised, swollen flesh as she drew Tess’s foot within both of her hands. "May I heal it now?" Liz asked gently.

Tess felt suddenly uncomfortable beneath Liz’s focused attention, and shifted awkwardly on the bed, despite how pleased she was that the pain would end.

"Tess?" Liz prompted when she didn’t answer.

"Of course," Tess nodded, staring at her hands. "Thanks, Liz. I’d really appreciate it."

Tess lay back down, closing her eyes as a gentle heat began warming the flesh of her ankle, radiating upward into her leg. The heat quickly became something more insistent and burning and she shivered at the sensation, as it ricocheted bone deep. The warmth reached a crescendo, piercing bone and flesh, until she felt a movement on the molecular level.

Then there was nothing but cool stillness as Liz lifted her hands away, and Tess opened her eyes, and found Liz just watching her, studying her strangely.

"It doesn’t…hurt anymore," Tess offered, feeling suddenly shy. But Liz just shook her head slowly, smiling mysteriously.

"You have no idea how much he really loves you, do you?" Liz asked enigmatically.

"What?" Tess asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion. "Who do you mean?"

"Marco. I don’t think you understand what he feels for you, Tess." Tears brimmed suddenly in Liz’s eyes, and Tess realized the intensity of what she described had moved her that deeply.

"How do you…"

"I felt his imprint on you when I healed you," Liz explained in a hushed voice. "From…all your interactions, he’s left it like a fingerprint. Only its his soul imprint."

"How could you feel that?" Tess cried, and now tears welled within her own eyes, she couldn’t stop them.

"It’s just shimmering right within you, his mark," Liz explained. "And all I kept hearing in my head was a clear voice saying, ‘she doesn’t even know the depth of what he feels. Hasn’t begun to realize.’"

Tess’s hand flew to her mouth. "You heard a…voice?" She croaked.

"It’s an intuition thing, Tess," Liz explained. "That’s what Marco taught us—that we might receive our impressions as pictures, but sometimes as words. I heard a voice."

"Whose?"

"I’m not sure…I think that depends on what you believe in a spiritual sense," Liz shrugged. "But I was to relay a message, of that I’m certain. That Marco loves you more than you’ve begun to fathom, and to rest in that, no matter how long you’re parted. No matter what comes in the future."

The sob escaped Tess’s lips before she could suppress it, and she bowed her head instantly so that Liz wouldn’t see the tears.

"Tess, it’s okay," Liz offered softly. "I understand what you’re feeling."

Tess looked up, and saw genuine compassion in her friend’s eyes, understanding on the deepest level. She nodded slowly, wiping at the tears. "I know I must seem crazy to you," Tess said with a heavy sigh. "I know it."

"Crazy for what?" Liz asked, frowning slightly. "For loving someone that it seems you can never be with? For hurting because of your love for him?"

Tess was surprised by the strength of Liz’s voice, how commanding and sure she sounded. "I don’t know," she answered lamely.

"Don’t you think I know all those exact same feelings?" Liz exclaimed. "From loving Max all these years?"

Tess’s head shot up at Liz’s words—at their implication, because she’d been the one who’d kept them apart years ago—yet when her eyes met Liz’s, she found no accusation. Instead, it seemed that Liz was thinking of something entirely different, something that she wasn’t yet ready to speak about.

"Tess, it’s okay that you’re crying," Liz pressed, tossing her hair over her shoulder defiantly. "I think you’re afraid that it’s a sign of weakness with me. But I’m your friend and it’s okay."

The tears began in earnest with her words, unstoppable as they trailed down Tess’s cheeks in hot rivulets. And before Tess could stop her, Liz had drawn her into a strong embrace, holding her against her chest, just slowly rocking.

"It’s okay," Liz whispered softly. "Just let it out…it’s okay."

Tess’s eyes drifted shut, and she remembered a vision she’d had some six years ago—of what Liz had meant to her in their past life on Antar, how she’d been a sister, a best friend. And now as they hugged one another, she realized the vision hadn’t just been a memory—it had been a premonition of what was to come. For she felt all those same feelings of friendship and sisterhood as Liz just held her, strong within her tiny arms.

"Just remember the words," Liz encouraged her gently. "That he loves you more than you possibly understand right now."

Tess nodded, hugging Liz tighter, and suddenly felt a shudder pass through her body, something like a flash of lightning, or an x-ray… and knew that Liz was in terrible pain herself. Liz’s emotions had shimmered right through her very center, nearly knocking the breath from her lungs with their painful intensity.

Empathy, she thought again, just as she had with Max on the trail last night.

She knew in that moment that Liz truly yearned to comfort her, but that also in some mysterious way, she sought to comfort herself. Tess could only wonder what had really transpired during their battle last night—and why it had wrought such a price in her beloved Max and Liz.