Release

An excerpt from Peripatetica, by M. K. Sebastien, Engr. ret.

Tuesday, 01 Nov 2518
The Edge Residence
Memphis, Osiris
White Sun (Bai Hu) System
21:30 hrs, local time

        I’ve slept with Mike in all manner of places over the years: a cramped corner of an engine room, a blanket under a sky full of stars, a garish Rim-side bordello, a plain monastic cell. Yet nowhere was I more uncomfortable than here in a Core-side bedroom with everything the Core had to offer… everything but freedom, mine or his. Thanks to my disastrous misstep a month ago and the Chempliance still lingering in his system, I hadn’t dared do more than take Mike’s hand or stroke his back in passing. It was far less than what I wanted, but no more than what Mike could give. Sharing a bed without being able to touch him would be excruciating and as we readied to retire, I seriously considered sleeping on the floor.
        I heard him moving around behind me, kicking off his shoes, peeling off his shirt, and I kept my back to him, knowing I’d be tempted by what I saw. I unbuttoned the collar of my tunic and got as far as pulling it over my head before the damned thing stuck on my shoulders. It was silk and lace and the nicest thing I owned, and the hell if I was going to tear it getting it off me, but I was well and truly jammed—hands above my head, with my arms trapped in the circumference of the bodice. Stuck.
        “Hold still,” was all the warning I had before I felt Mike’s hands on me. They were warm and smooth and I ached for more of him. I bit my lip and stayed silent, and tried to ignore the path his hands took. “Cross your wrists.”
        I did as ordered and the action eased the strain of the tunic across my shoulders just enough for him to peel it off me. I straightened and raked my hair back, and he handed me my clothes without another word. And turned away.
        Oh, yes, I am definitely sleeping on the floor.
        Before I could hunt through the bureau drawers for the extra blankets, however, there was a discreet knock and Delilah Edge entered our room. She was still dressed for dinner in pleated silk and brocade, every inch a Companion. She looked me up and down, complimented me on my figure and slew me with what she said next.
        “Can I borrow your friend for a while?”

        Don’t worry, she’d said. I won’t keep him long. I’d balked at the request, she’d given us a moment alone to debate it, and Mike had won the argument.
        If they wanted to do something to us, they could just call the authorities, he’d said. There are literally tens of thousands of Alliance and Blue Sun agents on this planet. Somehow, I don’t see Christian’s mom as being my main concern, here. In fact, making her happy seems to be a bigger concern. If she thinks we’re a danger to her son, we need to convince her we’re not a danger to her son. Don’t you think?
        I thought was it was too damned dangerous to let him go alone, but I knew that as much as I needed to know he’d be safe, Mike needed me to trust his judgment even more. I owed him that after everything he’d done for me and if I forced him to stay, it would ruin us beyond recovery. I capitulated and he quietly left.
        It was now close to four hours since he’d walked through that door and I wanted to grab my gun and find him, but I had tacitly given Mike my word I wouldn’t interfere. I dropped into an overstuffed chair before I wore a hole in the carpet from my pacing, and tried not to dwell on what he and Christian’s mother could possibly be doing. It didn’t take a genius to see how stunningly beautiful Delilah Edge was, how her poise and sex appeal put me at a disadvantage, and how Mike had been intrigued by her request.
        What was taking them so long?
        Had she been any other woman and had Mike possessed full control over his actions, I wouldn’t have worried. But this wasn’t just any woman, and Mike wasn’t himself. I thought again of finding him and knew it would be nothing but heartbreak if I did. I quit my chair and paced, dreadfully tired but unable to sleep.
        As for how Delilah Edge would react if I walked in on them… Did I care? If she had Mike tied to a chair right this minute and was forcing him to tell her everything he knew, did I give a good goddamn what she thought? Would she even have time to think before I killed her? My gun was in my bag, just a few steps away in the wardrobe and the Edge estate was small. If Mike was anywhere the grounds, I’d find him.
        Get a grip. Nothing’s wrong. He’s fine.
        God, my paranoia was making me morbid as hell, to say nothing of stupid. I paced, angry and miserable, bound by my unspoken promise, and cursed myself for a fool. And so it went, until my watch beeped the new hour and the click of the turning doorknob got my attention.
        Mike slipped inside, silent in his bare feet, and closed the door. Urgency rolled off him in waves and before I could say anything, he pulled me to the bed and was on me. He took me hard, as a dying man guzzled water in the desert or a starving man devoured a meal. Yet beneath his roughness and desperation was longing and gratitude, love and devotion, and I immediately understood and matched him measure for measure. I held him afterward when remorse overcame him, soothed him with my hands and rocked him til he quieted. He slept. Every sheet and pillow was awry and I drew what I could around us against the chill, and held him close. Just as Mike had done for me all those years ago at the Abbey, I did for him now and lay beside him to watch and wait and listened to him breathe.

        I must have fallen asleep. I woke to the familiar rhythm of his hand stroking my hair and blinking my eyes clear I saw his expression, apprehensive and vulnerable, and I knew I had to choose my next words with care.
        “Welcome back,” I said. He was warm and vital and naked under the sheets and God help me, I wanted more of him. But the Chempliance still had its hooks in him and caution stayed my hand. Instead I kissed his palm as he smoothed back my hair, and he responded with a caress, tracing my lips with his thumb. They were swollen and tender from the force of his ardor earlier and I winced. Mike instantly pulled back.
        “You’re hurt.”
        “I’m fine.”
        “You’re lying.”
        “I’m not.” I’m a lousy liar, even at the best of times, but I am pretty adept at shaving the truth. It’s simply the knack of addressing the matter obliquely. The truth: Was I sore? Yes, and I knew the bruises were already setting in. The shave: Did it matter? No, because I understood the man who made them and the reason why. I could see he wasn’t convinced, however, and my usual methods simply had no place here. Not now. Candor was what he needed, so that’s what I gave him.
        “I’m fine. Come see for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
        And so he did, every inch of me. With his hands and his lips, his body and soul he checked me, gently and thoroughly, and we were both slicked with sweat and gasping when he was finally satisfied that I was, indeed, fine. To this day, I’m not entirely sure who dropped off first. I do know that we spent the balance of the night sleeping entwined, and when the light of day finally made it past our eyelids, the awkwardness between us was gone.

Author's Note: Thanks go to Terri for her help as my beta. This wasn't easy for me to write and her encouragement kept me from ditching it. Thanks, Terri!

Go back to Solace | Go to Examinations
Go to Peripatetica - Rina's Journal entry and RP log
Go to Rina's Russian Glossary
Go to Rina's Crew Page
Go to EPISODES or TIMELINE