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I leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “Beautiful.”
“Even in death.” He nodded at the spider web that stretched between the beams of the building’s canopy above us.
A spider bounced at the center of the silken strands, legs spinning threads around a trapped firefly, its meal still pulsing light from within its gossamer cocoon.
I shivered, my mind flicking to the Drone and Michio and the genomes they carried from the spider. “Did you believe Michio when he said his transformation might’ve made him infertile?”
Jesse rested his arms beneath mine, his head growing heavier against my chest, as if snuggling against my heart. “He had no reason to lie about that.”
True. No matter how badly Michio wanted a child, he wouldn’t resort to tricking me.
“Have you thought about…if Michio returns, if he bit you…” My thoughts circled around this idea, my mind rebelling at the mere mention of it. “He could make you infertile.”
Assuming Michio could mutate others to be like him, he could create an army of men to fight the Drone and kill aphids. That sounded pretty badass, but there was always a downside. Could those men transform other men? Would the bite be sought after, traded, and spread like a coveted superpower?
A planet filled with infertile men would not fare well for the longevity of the human race.
“I’ve considered the ramifications.” Jesse traced a thumb along my arm. “If I were him, I’d bite me to eliminate the threat of fatal pregnancy. But I’m not him. Nor am I inclined to play God and fuck with my genetics.”
His response both relieved and disappointed me. An infertile Jesse would un-complicate our relationship, but the last thing I needed was another fangy guardian with a craving for blood.
For the umpteenth time that day, I mentally reached out for Michio, searching my senses for some sign of him. Was he still alive? Was he biting men and gathering an army? Did he miss me as much as I missed him?
Oh Michio, where are you?
A long period of silence hung over us, neither of us brave enough to talk about Darwin. Neither of us willing to vocalize the scariest questions: Why did he leave the Lakota? Did he miss me? Or was the answer more harrowing? Had something chased him away?
Jesse’s breathing slowed, and his body relaxed heavily against mine. Finally.
I didn’t move from the porch, didn’t move a muscle. I spent the remainder of the night clinging to the peacefulness of Jesse’s slumber and holding his powerful body close to mine.
Hours passed, and I watched the night sky ebb into the golden blush of dawn, keeping a vigilant eye on the hillside, agonizing over Darwin, dreading the moment that door might open to deliver the kind of news that would destroy my heart.
The sun climbed the sky, bringing with it a blanket of heat so stifling my back stuck to the bedroll in a puddle of sweat. And to think, it was probably only eight or nine in the morning.
Didn’t help that Jesse was smothering my body with nearly two-hundred pounds of hard muscle. He hadn’t moved since he passed out. I might’ve thought he was dead, but his heart beat solidly against my stomach, and his breaths whispered across my breast.
A couple feet away, the door to the animal clinic stood tall and disheartening in its silence. Neither Shea nor Roark had emerged since we shut it. No sounds from within. Not a voice or a footstep.
The mental pep talk I’d given myself through the sleepless night waned in the daylight. Dread coiled inside me, eating a hole through my stomach and nagging me to open that door.
Which meant waking Jesse. Checking on Darwin wasn’t the only reason we needed to move. In another hour or so, the ground would be completely dried up, and the aphids would come out of hiding.
My bones ached beneath his weight, my back cramping, my legs tingling with loss of circulation. And my bladder…holy hell, the pressure was unbearable.
Just one more moment. A moment to absorb the tranquility breathing from the man in my arms.
His hair stuck up in haphazard strands, reflecting the sunlight in reddish-brown hues. His facial features, while slack with sleep, were sharp and pronounced in the most masculine way. From this angle, I could see a slight bend in the bridge of his nose. His eyelashes, thick and coppery like his hair, lay against his cheeks, hiding the intense glare I’d fallen in love with.
Asleep, he almost looked gentle. I chuckled, soundlessly, but the heave of my chest bounced his head.
His breath stuttered, and his fingers curled against my ribs. Slowly, he lifted his cheek from my chest, blinked against the sunlight, and turned his neck to find my eyes.
Oh my. His eyelids hooded, heavy with grogginess, his full lips parted and pouty. Sleepy Jesse looked positively mouth-watering.
