Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
WAKING IN BED ALONE again after tossing and turning through nightmares, Sully tried not to feel disgruntled. Traces of horrible scenes full of pain and terror clung to him whenever he surfaced, until Stone finally crawled in at God only knew what time each night. Then he was gone again by morning.
Sully squeezed his eyelids tighter to block out the light and wished he could convince his body to fall back asleep.
Three days and he was still bent out of shape over Stone because there hadn’t been time to resolve anything. Because Stone was clearly avoiding any moment alone while they were both conscious.
Why couldn’t he forget about all of it for five minutes? Why did he have to keep agonizing over Stone?
It was one night! It wasn’t even that good.
Okay, so that was a dirty fucking lie, but who cared? It was still only one night! One.
And a few months of borderline obsessive thoughts, not that anyone was counting.
Sully didn’t want to feel any particular way about the fact that he’d been plagued by an inability to sleep restfully for the last few nights until there was a warm body inches away from his.
Or that he’d slept so deeply he didn’t have a single nightmare once Stone was beside him.
He didn’t want to be angry about it, or confused, or questioning his sanity.
Much preferable was ignoring it all together.
Yeah, he could just ignore the hazy recollections of an Elliot Stone who never existed but somehow filled his mind while he drifted somewhere between asleep and awake.
An Elliot who recited poems in lilting tones as they lay on a grassy lakeshore after skipping stones.
He had impressions of Elliot laughing at himself and insisting the poems were awful, but they sounded lovely to Sully.
Didn’t happen. He hardly even talked about his poems at the hotel.
In his dreams Elliot’s arms were around him, holding him tight, and his heart near pounded out of his chest at that intimate embrace. Elliot’s soft hands were a ghost along Sully’s wet cheeks. “You’re dreaming, love.”
And, okay, sure, he’d called Sully love when they were fucking, but lots of people talked sweet when they had their cock in you. Sully hadn’t actually cried that night. He held back those stupid tears by the skin of his teeth.
None of those fuzzy fantasies were real.
They were Sully’s mind grasping at the last emotional experience—the only emotional experience—he’d had with a lover and sticking him in sweet scenarios that drowned out the horror he was experiencing.
He wasn’t a doctor or anything, but it made a sick sort of sense.
And if his boneheaded brain thought that was a kindness rather than a cruelty, then the joke was on him, wasn’t it?
Yawning, Sully reached up over his head.
Fingers brushing the wallpaper, he stretched his back, and glared balefully at the sunlight streaming in the dirt-streaked windowpane, dust floating through golden beams. If he could roll over and get five more minutes, he was sure he’d be able to face the day. Mostly sure.
Unfortunately, the clatter of the household rising kept him from it. He was due for another day of slogging through what the team had lovingly—and he used that word in the most sarcastic sense—taken to calling his initiation, rather than training.
Two days ago he’d been forced onto a motorbike with only enough instruction to ensure he might not kill himself right away and been relieved to find out he was a fast learner.
First. Bell got him to practice on the relatively straight drive leading up to the house, then they went farther afield, Bell leading, Sully following.
She’d put him through his paces, and by the end of the second day he was maybe not hitting on all sixes, but he sure wasn’t going to fall off and make a real mess of himself all over the packed dirt road. Not through a careless mistake anyway.
Today though, Stone was taking over Bell’s duties.
Apparently, he wanted to evaluate Sully.
There had to be more to it. Stone had been acting squirrelly since the day Sully got here, but other than some heavily repressed flashes of guilt, and one quickly suppressed burst of longing, his emotions were too muddled to get a good read on.
Whatever it was Stone felt when he was around, it was complicated, and it was eating him up.
The dark circles beneath Stone’s eyes rivaled his own.
Sully wasn’t sure whether he felt good or bad about Stone’s turmoil because his own thoughts on what was happening between them were just as rife with inconsistencies.
Stone was every bit as attractive and alluring as the night they’d met, and he didn’t appear to have been attempting to gain any favors from Sully.
Neither was Stone babying him, which was the thing he’d started to worry about when Stone let it slip that he thought Sully was acting recklessly.
Those two things didn’t come up again. Which went a long way toward easing some of Sully’s anger.
That wasn’t the whole story though. The secrecy and the things Stone had locked down were hiding something big. And until Sully knew what that was, he needed to keep his guard up. Had to focus on the job and on his usefulness to this team. They came first.
If there was one thing he learned on the front lines, in the stinking cesspit of pointless deaths, wanton destruction, and putrid decay, it was your squad mates were all you had. You protected each other. He had a duty to them, and he’d fulfill it no matter what his emotions were chirping on about.
After this morning’s ride with Stone, he’d spend the afternoon doing everything from showing off his skills, to working out plans with the others for their skills to mesh with his in ways that might be useful for deception, infiltration, or destruction if need be.
So far, they’d discovered he and Hoffman made a formidable team of scouts.
Sully could cast a wide whisper thin illusion to give them as much coverage as possible, and then stick close to Hoffman to ensure no one saw deeper.
Even when the others had known for a fact where they were standing, no one pinpointed them, or noticed anything beyond what Sully showed.
Hoffman had given him a nod of approval and what passed as a half-smile on his taciturn face.
According to Bell that was nothing short of a declaration of affection.
This afternoon he and Charbonneau were to work on combining his illusions and emotional insight with Charbonneau’s enhanced speed and strength.
There had to be a way to use it to get him hidden, kept in shadow through a dangerous situation perhaps?
Or concealed so he could neutralize anyone on guard before the poor sap knew he was done for.
At some point before nightfall, it would be a free-for-all sparring match with Stone serving as the referee. None of them were taking it easy on him. Sully preferred it that way.
“Sink or swim,” Bell had announced with a teasing grin.
So he’d swum. He had the bruises and a couple of superficial cuts to prove it. And they already felt more cohesive as a group. He couldn’t deny that.
A rap of knuckles at the doorway pried him from his musings.
“Mm-what?” he mumbled.
The door cracked hesitantly. Sully realized with an internal groan that Stone was giving him a chance to cover up whatever untoward thing he might be doing. This day was already off to a wonderful start.
I’d have to have the energy for that, which I don’t thanks to you.
“Excellent, you’re up. Could you be ready in ten? I’ve packed breakfast if you can hold off eating.”
Sully wet his dry lips and made a conscious effort to wake all the way up. “Sure. Can I at least get a cup of George? Need the pick-me-up before I’m much use.”
“Of course. I’ll heat up some instant while you get dressed. Does that sound all right?”
Shoving down the pleased sensation warming his stomach, Sully nodded. “Thanks.”
Stone closed the door behind him on his way out, and Sully dropped back down onto the pillow with a disgusted grunt. Stop it before you lose control. It’s only coffee, Sullivan. Not a proposition.
Sully pried himself out of the warm bed, into the chilled air, and got dressed.
Downstairs, he stopped off in the bathroom before heading to the kitchen.
It was packed full with the others eating and talking.
They joked around while he drank the hot coffee Stone handed him.
Bitter, but at least it was hot. On the front lines, he’d dealt with infinitely worse.
Much better than the few days here and there he’d gone without.
Remonet’s chair scraped against the floor as he pushed to standing. Strolling up to Sully, he pulled a scrap of paper from the pocket of his faded blue jacket and held it out in between his fore and middle fingers. “Here,” he said, “Take it.”
Sully plucked the sheet and examined both sides. It was a blank square of slightly crumpled once white paper. “Uhh…What is it?”
Remonet sent him a playful grin, the corners of his warm eyes crinkling as he leaned back a bit, crossing his arms. “Your ticket out of trouble, if you need it.”
Eyebrows raising, Sully glanced down and gave it a closer look, flipping it over again. “It’s just a piece of paper.”
“Is it?” Remonet asked, smile broadening.
“Isn’t it?”
There were some chuckles from the others and Stone cleared his throat. “Stop teasing and explain, hmm?”
Amusement sparkled from Remonet, and it was contagious. Sully momentarily forgot about the sense of impending doom that Elliot was casting over everything. “It’s magic,” Remonet said. “My skill—”
“One of many,” Charbonneau joked, fond sarcasm lacing his words and Remonet chuckled.