Taking Flight Page 8

  “Dinner’s ready,” Hazel called, and Marcus paused, his fingers still inside Deborah.

  “Speak of the devil…” He smiled wickedly and eased out of her, kissing her on the forehead. “Come on, you must be hungry.”

  Deborah smiled back, knowing all was perfect between them. “Yes, I’m hungry, but I really can’t eat another bloody squirrel.”

  * * * *

  That night around the fire, their bellies filled with delicious trout, the couples relaxed and began their usual discussions. Deborah was still feeling a little shy about the three of them, as if they were in a group she wasn’t part of. She wanted to know something about them, make them feel like they’d been duped or coerced.

  “So what did you do before here, Hazel?” she asked in mock innocence, knowing she’d broken the golden rule. Birch reached out to Hazel as if to stop her speaking. She glanced at him and mouthed It’s okay.

  “I understand why you’ve asked that,” she said gently—almost patronizingly, Deborah noted. “And in acknowledgment of that, I’ll tell you.” Birch shifted uncomfortably but once again Hazel soothed him. “I was an archivist in one of the fertility research labs.”

  The hairs on the back of Deborah’s neck stood to attention. Could she have worked at her lab? She squeezed Marcus’s hand and held her breath, her petulant mood banished by the woman’s revelation. She kept silent with all her might, not wanting to give her own history away.

  “I was friends with some of the scientists working on finding a cure. The results they told me about in conversations outside the facility never made it to my files.” Hazel looked disturbed. “I had taken an oath to log and archive data from the research so that future generations would know what happened and how we fixed it—in case it happened again, or to keep trying to fix the current situation.”

  “So records went missing?” Deborah asked, fascinated by this new information.

  “Well, not really. I always got the paperwork to log, but it never tallied with what my scientist friends told me.”

  “What do you mean? How?”

  “I only found out by accident. I was out for a drink with a close friend of mine who worked in the lab and she was glowing with excitement. She asked me if I had seen the results of a particular experiment that week that had caused a breakthrough in developing an antidote.”

  Birch threw her another warning look but she ignored him.

  “I knew I had logged and filed the paperwork on this particular case because I knew her ID number like I knew my own. There’d been nothing on the file apart from a ‘Failed’ stamp branded over every page. I checked it the next day and the results and figures she had told me were completely changed. I made absolutely sure that I was dealing with the same case, but could only conclude that someone had falsified the results.”

  “So what did you do?” Deborah was wide-eyed. She had been on the brink of discovering something too, her research so tantalizingly close to that vital breakthrough. But when she thought back, she’d never been truly supported and encouraged when she delivered her theories and ideas. She’d been naïve. Surely if you had a magnificent plan, you would get a team assigned to you to research it until it worked? It was as though her mind was beginning to unfog. She prompted Hazel again. “What did you do?”

  “Well, I started to quietly ask some of the research scientists of their outcomes on particular cases and cross-referenced them with my records. Almost every single one where they’d told me of a success had been tampered with—or recorded differently. I tried to find out where the files went before they came to me but someone must have told an official about my questioning and I was given a severe reprimand.”

  “What kind of reprimand?”

  Hazel smiled bitterly and it sent chills through her. “Oh, you know, the kind where I’m told to take the things that are dear to me and go away.” Birch put his arm around her tenderly. “I was told never to pry or come back and that if I interfered with government concerns ever again, I would be taken in.”

  “Taken in where?”

  “Jail. Or worse.” Her hand rested on Birch’s and she looked at him.

  “Did you tell any of your friends at the lab?”

  “No. How could I know who had been the one to betray me? I lost all of them.”

  “Didn’t you want to stay and fight? Surely you had a duty to the truth,” Deborah said, disappointed that Hazel had given up so easily.

  “Like you, you mean?” Hazel asked, immediately shaming Deborah.

  “I just wanted to be with Marcus.”

  “Thorn,” Birch corrected.

  Deborah rolled her eyes. They’d gone beyond code names by now, surely? She suddenly wondered if Hazel and Birch knew more about Marcus and her than they were letting on.

  “Listen,” Hazel said in her soft, reassuring tone once more, “I don’t know why you’re here, and it’s better for all of us that I don’t.” It was as if she’d been reading Deborah’s mind. “But I do know one thing—anyone living in this forest has run away from something. Whether it’s a threat, information, or even a crime, we’re all hiding. That’s it. It’s a level playing field. We’re all equal in our exile.”

  “So—” Birch, obviously having had enough of the subject, gently took his lady’s hand and lifted her to a standing position. “—while we’re all equal and hiding, let’s live, love, and dance.” He slipped his hand around her waist and waltzed her seductively around the fire, the flames dancing with them, flickering and glowing in time with the music of the forest.

  The mood had changed from dark revelation to an even darker seduction. As they watched the slow-dancing couple, Marcus reached up under Deborah’s dress and roughly kneaded her nakedness. “I want to take you here. Now,” he whispered with an edge that suggested it was going to happen.

  Deborah breathed hard as he grasped the lips of her pussy, feeling how wet she’d become with just those abrupt words. She was amazed at how eager she was to fuck by the fire in full view of the others. She wanted to, she needed to, she had to. She sat up fully, pulled the dress off over her head, and stared at Marcus, who took his own clothes off. He was stunning in the firelight. The flames caressed the dips and curves of his body, accentuating his manly form, making her feel tiny and vulnerable. For a moment or two they just stared, drinking in each other’s flesh, so familiar and yet so strange, here in this forest, about to exchange with each other in view of Birch and Hazel.

  Then Marcus lunged, his cock already fully erect. He smelled of earth and the smoky trout from dinner. Her mouth watered for his kisses, and he enveloped it with his. Her pussy was twitching with moisture and heat and she opened one eye to take a quick glance at Birch and Hazel who were watching them, fondling each other as they did. It was an incredible turn on and Deborah arched her back, thrusting her chest high into the glow of the fire. She knew it was vanity that made her throw her hair back and let it trail down the backs of her arms and onto the ground, but it felt amazing to be watched, admired even.

  Marcus snaked down to her breasts and suckled at her nipples, making them swell and peak more than she’d thought possible. He tugged and pulled with his lips and teeth on each one, letting it fall from his mouth with a satisfying pop, and Deborah watched the ripples quiver through each mound of flesh. Her pussy was in the excruciating position of being so turned on that the line between pleasure and pain was confused. Just one touch would have sent her helter-skelter over the edge into orgasm, but Marcus hovered tantalizingly over her, taking his time, teasing her. Making her wait.

  He slowly, so slowly, crawled over her and kissed her, pressing her body with his. She shuffled her elbows and lowered her back to the mossy forest floor. It seemed to catch her and cradle her, dipping in the perfect spot where her pelvis tipped up naturally and her thighs fell apart. Even the forest is in on it, Deborah thought as she sighed inwardly, undulating her pussy walls in invitation to the bulbous head that danced at her entrance.

  “Fuc
k me, Marcus,” she wailed, her head rolling from side to side in agonized desire. She felt the strange folding in on herself from earlier as she began to retreat down into the tunnel of her own sex. “Come inside, Marcus,” she beckoned again with her whole being. But still he teased. Lost in her yearning, she was swimming around in liquid arousal, searching for him. Tremors raced through her as she flailed about, opening and closing herself as if she was lost in a labyrinth. His voice called her from far away and she was angry. “Fuck me. Fuck me, Marcus!”

  The sound of a slap roused her and a sting began to register on her cheek. She opened her eyes to meet his wild, worried stare. He was holding her face tight in his palms and she snapped back into her physical body again.

  “Where were you? Where were you?” He was panic-stricken, and the arousal drained from her body. “Are you back?” he questioned, shaking her.

  “Yes!” she had to shout. “I’m here, I’m here!”

  “What happened to you?” He held her jaw fast, making her look at him directly.

  Deborah was scared. She had no idea what had happened. Not really.

  “You were thrashing around like you were having some sort of fit. I couldn’t reach you.”

  Deborah was suddenly embarrassed. She must have looked insane. “I couldn’t reach you either,” she said quietly.

  His softening manhood dangled between her legs, brushing her lips without intent. Anger rose inside her. She’d been wrong-footed again. She’d only been doing what they’d all been talking about, striving for that ultimate unity. Marcus lifted off her as Birch crouched down beside them. Deborah felt utterly foolish, as if she’d had too much to drink and had made a complete idiot of herself. She waited, bristling, for Birch to join in the concern for her sexual faux pas. To her surprise, it was Marcus he stooped to comfort.

  “Thorn,” he crooned, his voice languid and thick. “Thorn, she was there, waiting for you. You just have to let go. You’ll find her.”

  The grip on Deborah’s jaw slackened, and a dark look flashed across Marcus’s face. She was even more confused now, but not so mortified. She’d been in the place. It had terrified Marcus so much. A sickening thudding sensation washed over her. What if he wasn’t able to do it? She reminded herself they’d only just talked about ultimate unity today—this evening.

  Birch helped the now shaking Marcus to his feet. “Come on now, you’ll both be fine.” Deborah watched the older man lead him away from her and took note that it felt okay. Birch spoke to Marcus again as he bade him sit by the fire. “It took many months to get one of us to where you two are already. I know Deborah is a little ahead of you, but you just have to trust her. She’ll lead you to her.”

  Deborah thought that was Marcus’s cue to at least throw her a smile, or even a comforting wink, but his head remained bowed.

  Chapter 11

  Deborah woke early, having hardly slept at all. She watched Marcus’s eyes flutter under their lids and left the tent, careful not to disturb him. Sun was already streaming through the trees as she made her way down to the river to freshen up.

  Since her double sexual mind trip yesterday, Deborah had felt strangely calm and peaceful. Thoughts had whirled around her mind all night long as she’d tried to analyze what had happened to her from a scientific point of view, but it was with a lazy curiosity, not her usual frantic need to know. It was as if there had been some kind of cellular or molecular breakdown between the physical and mental parts of the body and they’d simply seeped into each other. The more she recalled the sensations, the more amazing they became to her. Marcus had always taken her to places with his lovemaking that she’d never been, and he’d always insisted that she give up her control and just feel, so she rationalized that he’d been conditioning her for this for years. She’d always done as he wished, letting herself fall into the sexual world he made for her with complete abandon, allowing every sensation to permeate her being and take her over.

  As she dipped her toe into the cold morning water, she resolved to tell Marcus about her thoughts. It was his doing that she was so open to this bloody ultimate unity thing.

  She’d forgotten to bring a towel and quickly splashed the water over her arms and face, shivering as the light breeze dried her off. A crack in the undergrowth made her senses prick. She crouched behind a low bush and strained to catch a glimpse of the intruder. There was definitely someone there, but thankfully, Deborah knew she hadn’t been seen. Just as clearly as the day before when she’d felt watched. Whoever was there didn’t know that she was too.

  Her heart began to thunder so loudly that she clasped her hands over her mouth to stop the noise banging out. Lactic acid build at an alarming rate and her calves numbed almost instantly. Maybe it was an animal? She tried to comfort herself but instincts screamed of a human presence. One of her party?

  There, her eye caught the shape of a small, thin figure nearing the entrance of the clearing. Deborah didn’t know what to do. They’d never really talked about camp security and who should be visiting. For all she knew, it could be a fairly open affair with many people showing up, though they hadn’t seen a soul since they’d arrived. She softly broke her cover and, holding her breath, followed the figure. Hiding behind a thick tree, she watched the man bend low at the entrance of her and Marcus’s shelter and lift the canvas door, just a little, to peer inside. She wanted to run up and stop him—he could be a murderer, anything—but fear had her frozen to the spot.

  “Denva, what are you doing here so early?” Birch strode over to the stranger and smacked him jovially on the back, urging him causally away from the tent. He led him to the smoldering ashes of last night’s fire and kept up the banter while he went about reviving the flames and making tea, but Deborah caught the furtive glances Birch made around the camp. He was on guard and she could see he did not want them to be discovered there. She kept hidden, willing Marcus to stay asleep, and strained to hear what the men were talking about.

  “Got visitors, have we?” Denva threw a sly look over to the new shelter when Birch handed him his tea.

  Birch sat on the log to the side and shrugged. “You know us, Den, never could turn down a stray.”

  Deborah shuddered at Birch’s words and felt utterly betrayed. What was going on?

  “So who’s in there?” Denva persisted when Birch offered no further comment.

  “Oh, just a traveler needed a place to lie down. That’s all.”

  “Where’s he headed?”

  “She,” Birch corrected, “didn’t say.”

  Though she was paralyzed with fear, Deborah inwardly applauded Birch’s sleight of mouth.

  “Really? Didn’t smell female.” Denva’s lip curled into a thick sneer that repulsed Deborah. Birch would have to act fast.

  “Well—” Birch yawned and stretched skyward in a macho pose. “She wouldn’t now, would she?” He smiled wickedly at Denva, who winked and smiled back.

  “Ahh, you old dog,” he said, licking his lips and looking over at the tent while Deborah cringed.

  “Don’t even think about it, Den.” Birch flashed him a warning look, and the creepy stranger shrugged and laughed.

  “Okay, okay, I get it. Does the lady of the house know?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Always was a charitable lass, that one.” He peered around the clearing again, taking in everything he saw.

  Deborah squeezed herself as small as she could while her muscles ached and perspiration slid from her forehead and nose.

  “So, my man, down to business,” said Denva while he dragged a scruffy pack from his shoulders. “Three we agreed on, was it?” He passed a package to Birch who lifted it to his face, inhaling.

  “I paid for four, Denva,” Birch replied, peering over the parcel.

  “I know, I know, I’m just toying with you.” His smile was playful but Deborah could see that Birch was on his guard, clearly knowing the trader’s habits. “It’s all there.”

  Deborah strained to
see what might be inside the fraying rags, but Birch held them close to his chest as he peered inside. Curiosity was killing her. She did not trust Denva one bit and wished the men would finish their business before Marcus woke up and blew his cover.

  “Well, I’d better not keep you, Denva,” said Birch, rising to shake the man’s hand and send him on his way.

  “Oh, come on, Birch, no sharing?” For one hideous moment, Deborah thought Denva was talking about the phantom woman in the tent but instead he looked wistfully at the package, licking his lips.

  “Denva, at the prices you charge, you do not need my charity.” Birch’s voice was light and jokey but his eyes were dark and flashed hate at the trader when he glanced away.

  “Fine, fine, I can take a hint. Wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.” He picked up his pack and slung it over his shoulder. “See you in a fortnight then. Will you be needing anything else?”

  “No, just the usual end of the month candles and coffee,” said Birch with a cold edge to his voice and crammed something—Deborah assumed it must be money—into Denva’s dirty fist. He ushered the trader away through the undergrowth, and Deborah sank to the forest floor as she watched the stranger skulk off between the trees.

  Birch returned and looked straight at her from the middle of the clearing. “You can come out now,” he said with a reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  The logs by the fireside seemed unusually rough as Deborah sat down beside Birch.

  “Who was that?” she asked, rubbing her arms as the chill from watching Denva hadn’t quite left.

  “Who, Denva?” Birch poked nonchalantly at the smoldering ashes but his cold stare belied the action. “Don’t worry about him, he’s our rogue trader. Brings supplies every couple of weeks.”