Inferno by Cara Bristol
Chapter Eight
Inferno caught Geneva before she hit the ground. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her to the hover scooter and draped her across the seat. He dashed to her vehicle and pushed it off the road into the grass. He did a quick check inside, grabbing her phone and purse.
He stowed her belongings in the scooter’s storage compartment then straddled the seat and rearranged her so she sat sidesaddle and rested against his chest. He switched to autopilot, activated the refracting shield to render the vehicle and riders invisible, and took off.
There was no guessing what kind of reception he’d receive when she revived, but he couldn’t leave her alone and unconscious. And why wait for her to wake and to hammer out their differences in the cold and dark, when they could do it from the warmth and comfort of the farmhouse?
Returning after a consultation with Edwin Mysk, a ’Topian who’d founded a tech empire, he, Psy, and Tigre had spotted Geneva stranded on the road.
It was pure bliss to hold her, to breathe in the floral scent wafting off her soft hair. He hoped she wouldn’t be too mad—or worse, scared—when she awakened. I guess she believes me now.
At the farmhouse, the burning porch light spilled across the walk. As he carried her up the steps, the door opened.
“Herian! What happened?” Tigre stepped aside.
“She fainted.”
“Put her here.” Psy adjusted an easy chair to a half-reclining position, and Inferno settled her in it.
“Why did she faint?” asked Meadow, Psy’s mate.
“I think she got a little scared.”
“Of what?”
“Me.” At least he had confirmation of his suspicion. If she only now had accepted he was an alien, she must have thought he’d been telling stories before.
After such a hopeful walk, he’d heard nothing from her. Belatedly he’d realized he hadn’t given her a way to contact him, but Mandy had relayed Geneva had requested his number. When the days dragged on with no word from her, he’d begun to get discouraged.
“Should we leave?” Tigre asked.
If he’d frightened her, having other ’Topians present might make it worse. However, if she still doubted his veracity, the others might lend credence to his origins. Having Meadow, a human, present might reassure her.
“No, stay.” He knelt to light the fire. Central heat hummed, but drafts snuck into the old farmhouse, and the high-ceilinged great room held a chill unless they had a fire going. He wished to ensure Geneva’s comfort when she awoke.
The fireplace was already laid, so he harnessed a surge of energy and shot flames from his fingertips to the kindling and wadded-up newspaper. When a good burn got going, he stood up.
“Oh my God!”
* * * *
Geneva regained consciousness to the sound of voices. Disoriented at first, as memories returned, she opened her eyes to find herself ensconced in a man-sized leather chair in a strange house. Peering beneath her lashes, she watched flames shoot from Inferno’s fingertips.
She gasped. “Oh my God! You—you lit that fire with your hands!”
“Yes.” He dropped his arms to his sides and regarded her warily.
He’s the alien, and he’s wary of me?
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“All right.” She glanced at the others in the room—two men, one woman. The woman she recognized as a clerk from Timeless Treasures Antiques in Argent. Human? Under the new paradigm, she would accept nothing at face value. To wit: one man appeared human until she noticed his pupil-less eyes. Nope, not from around here. Dark bands striped another guy’s whiskered face. Catlike whiskers, not a five-o’clock-shadow. Saber teeth jutted over his lower lip.
She elbowed herself to a seated position and surveyed the room. Six man-sized recliners faced a massive TV mounted over the fireplace in a living room also containing a long tweed sofa. Area rugs, rather belatedly, protected scuffed and gouged oaken floors. She noticed her purse and cell phone on the coffee table.
“Where am I? How did I get here?” The last she recalled was standing beside Wanda, seeing Inferno glow like a flashlight.
“I brought you here. This is my home—our home,” he answered, glancing at the others. “These are two of my brothers and Meadow.”
“Hi! I’m Tigre.” The whiskered man smiled, revealing sharp, pointy teeth.
She gulped. “Hello.”
“I’m Psy,” said the one with solid-black orbs.
“Hi.”
“I’m Meadow.” The woman from the antique store flashed a cheeky grin. “Psy and I are genmates, but I’m human, in case you were wondering.”
“Thank you. I kinda was,” she admitted. “I recognized you from Timeless Treasures.”
“You fainted,” Inferno explained. “It’s cold outside, and I couldn’t leave you out in the elements.”
She grimaced in embarrassment. “Sorry about that.” She’d never passed out before, but the shock of the truth had overwhelmed her. At least, I’m still on Earth—unless I’ve been transported to some parallel, alternate universe. Maybe I’m on a spaceship that looks like a living room. Or maybe I’m floating in suspended animation, dreaming I’m in a living room that might be on a spaceship. Anything was possible at this point.
With new eyes and an open mind, she scrutinized his ruddy complexion and prominent horns. How blind could I have been?
“I, uh, pushed your car off the road.” His tail flicked back and forth.
“Thank you. I’ll call someone to deal with it in the morning.”
“Can I get you anything?” Meadow asked. “Water? Tea? Wine?”
“Uh, a glass of water would be great,” she answered.
After bringing her a tall glass, Meadow motioned to the men. “Let these two talk.” Obediently, they followed her out of the room, leaving Geneva alone with Inferno.
She took a big gulp of water.
Inferno settled in the adjacent chair. His wonderful scent enveloped her, and her body responded to his magnetism with a surge of desire. “I’m sorry for doubting you,” she said, still rocked by what she’d observed.
“It’s all right.”
But it wasn’t. She’d been prepared to walk away from the most interesting man she’d ever met. She twisted her hands as she fought for a way to explain how she could have ignored the truth staring her in the face. “There has always been speculation that extraterrestrials might have constructed the pyramids of Giza and Machu Picchu. UFO sightings occur all the time. Some people claim to have been beamed aboard spaceships and abducted. Others insisted they’ve seen Bigfoot, the Loch Ness monster, and Elvis Presley. The photographic evidence”—she put air quotes around evidence—“is always grainy and out of focus. So, in short, no credible source has ever presented hard proof of alien visitation.
“In fact, here you all are, and still no one in authority has released any information about your presence.” Only recently had the government acknowledged the existence of UFOs.
“You haven’t heard of the Intergalactic Dating Agency?”
“I have,” she admitted. “I assumed the human-alien scenario was role play.”
“I can’t speak for other extraterrestrials, but my brothers and I kept our arrival quiet. We didn’t announce our presence, and we’ve been careful about who we reveal ourselves to.”
“Because of doubters like me?”
“Because we’re hiding from the Xenos.”
“What are Xenos?”
“The Xeno Consortium is a super intelligence who created our people from DNA collected from species across the galaxy. Our distant ancestors were produced in a laboratory then seeded on ’Topia, which had been terraformed to support life.”
It sounded like the stuff of science fiction, fantastical and incredible, yet the evidence sat in a reclining chair, his elbows resting on his knees, his tail curled around him. She was still processing the new paradigm yet needed to acknowledge what he’d told her. “Is that why you all look so different?”
“We each are a different species of ’Topian, kin in spirit, not blood, although, due to genetic engineering, we do share some DNA. We escaped ’Topia together and bonded over the experience. Tigre is a Saberian, Psy is a Verital, Wingman is an Avian, and Chameleon is a Xeno—but we don’t hold it against him—and I’m a Luciferan.”
Luciferan. The first time he mentioned that, she’d thought he’d been calling himself Lucifer, one of the many names of Old Scratch, the arch villain of the Christian faith. “What else can you do besides light up and produce fire?”
“I manipulate energy. That’s about it.” He shrugged as if it was nothing.
“You can’t fly or change shape?” she joked.
“No. Wingman, whom you haven’t met, can fly. Chameleon is a shapeshifter. If he can see a life-form, he can mimic it. Shadow can transform from solid form to gas. Psy can read minds—but he’s extremely ethical and would never do so without permission.”
“What about Tigre? What abilities does he have?”
“He’s exceptionally strong and fast.”
“You said you all escaped.” She circled back to his comment.
“The Xenos were threatened by our evolutionary progress,” he explained. “We advanced faster than they had expected or desired, so they bombarded our planet. Thanks to Chameleon who led the evacuation efforts, a couple of ships escaped during the firestorm. My brothers and I were on one of those two ships.
“The Xenos chased us and fired on our ship, but we lost them in jump space. However, the Castaway was damaged so we landed on the closest habitable planet, which happened to be Earth. We’d intended to repair the ship and leave, but we chose to stay instead.” He smiled. “The natives were friendly.”
Most of them. Not her.
She covered his hand resting on his knee and squeezed gently. Their fingers interlaced. His skin was hot, like he was running a fever—no surprise considering he’d shot flames from his fingertips—but his touch aroused shivery sensations. “I am so sorry for what you’ve been through and how I reacted to you.” Her face heated as she recalled that first encounter. She vowed never, ever to reveal she’d thought him the devil personified. She would carry that secret to the grave.
“So, it’s okay now?” Beautiful dark-brown eyes glinted with a hopeful light.
“It is for me.”
“You’ll go out with me, then?”
Their fingers were still laced so, with her free hand, she cupped his cheek. “Yes.”
He leaned into the touch, and their gazes locked. His exotic scent grew stronger. She stroked his cheek with her thumb, and the next moment they were kissing. Warm, soft lips touched hers, and, like the walls of Jericho, all doubts fell, his kiss laying waste to any reservations.
His tongue met hers in an intimate caress as their mouths fused. He tasted like he smelled—warm and delicious, like an addictive sweet-and-savory spice. She pressed her mouth harder against his. He stroked her hair and face, trailing his fingers over her skin and through her curls, igniting tingles that spread through her body.
She touched his horns and found them to be more like cartilage than bone—and sensitive. He groaned as she stroked, and he kissed her harder.
Leaning close, he scooped her off her chair and onto his lap. The hardness of his erection pressed against her bottom. Arousal hummed between her thighs, and she pulled his head down and kissed him again. She couldn’t get enough of him. He warmed her from the inside out, filling her with a sense of homecoming, as if the waiting had ended.
Crazy. She should get up, find her common sense, and give herself a good scolding. She would do that. One more kiss first…
Cupping her head, his fingers threaded through her hair, he held her close against his heaving chest. Yep—two hearts were beating. Racing.
Her breath caught in her throat as his adoring expression melted her into a puddle of goo. No man had ever looked at her like she added up to the sum of his existence. “My genmate, I’ve waited my entire life for you,” he said.
“That’s like a life partner.” She recalled he’d referred to her that way before.
He nodded. “Life partner and more. I tried to explain in my letter. For ’Topians to bond with a partner, the dyads must share the same genetic marker. When they meet, biology binds them.”
She frowned. “So you’re at the mercy of your biology? You don’t have a choice?” That didn’t sound very romantic.
“Who better than our own genetics to pick our perfect partner?”
“Huh,” she said.
He touched the underside of his jaw. “When a male meets his perfect match, the mating glands in the throat swell.”
She had noticed the slight lumpiness but had figured it was normal for him. She wasn’t sure if she should be offended he’d been programmed to desire her or flattered he thought she was perfect. All she knew was that his massaging hand on her nape felt so gooood.
“We like to think we make intelligent decisions—but how often do our choices end up being bad ones?” he added.
She couldn’t deny the logic since Trenton offered living proof of her poor choices. She cocked her head. “So you’re saying we have the same mating gene? How is that possible?”
“Eons ago, Xenos collected DNA samples from Earth for their projects. While they were here, they altered the human genome.”
Her jaw dropped. “So we humans are part alien?”
He shook his head. “A few of you. The Xenos couldn’t alter an entire population—they weren’t here long enough. Most likely, they experimented on a small group who reproduced and passed on the mutation.”
Could this account for the existence of soul mates, explain why some couples got lucky and instantly connected? Did it explain her crazy idea that her Mr. Right had been searching for her? Mr. Genmate. She wasn’t convinced yet, but, as she studied Inferno from under her lashes, she recalled her very first reaction to him.
Before she’d caught sight of him, his voice had stirred her libido. His horns and red face had freaked her out, but her body had still responded—as well as on the other two occasions that she’d encountered him.
Her rational mind tried to discount his explanation, but truth resonated deep in her bones. Defining and labeling could occur later. Their chemistry could not be denied. “This is a lot to process.”
“I understand.”
She leaned in close and sniffed his throat. She couldn’t help it. He smelled so good. She had the oddest urge to rub against him and mark herself with his scent.
“What are you doing?”
“Smelling you. You smell good.”
“I like the way you smell, too.”
“What do I smell like?”
“Spring flowers and midnight dreams. Hope fulfilled.”
Her heart stopped. “That’s the sweetest thing anybody has ever said to me.” She had the oddest urge to weep.
“I mean every word.” His lips met hers in a tender but heated caress. She shifted on his lap to wrap her arms around his neck and pour her emotion into the kiss.
“Ahem!” A grinning Meadow entered the great room. “Excuse me for interrupting, but we’re all having banana splits in the kitchen if you’d like to join us.” Without waiting for an answer, she skipped from the room.
“You want to?” Inferno asked.
She’d prefer to keep kissing him, but she needed to rein in her careening emotions and process what had happened. Plus, she’d like to get to know his friends better. “Would that be okay?”
“Anything you want is okay with me.”
She kissed him then, and they almost got sidetracked, but they broke apart, and she slipped off his lap. He laced his fingers through hers. They smiled at each other, and she was sure her grin was goofy, but she’d never felt happier.