24. Jane
"Time to scram," Luke says, packing the documents back into the apology book and returning it to its shelf. When he's done, he looks at me with his electric eyes, his finger brushing a smear of dust off my cheek. "Now's your chance, sweet lips. You could go raid the dining hall's supply of chocolate chip cookies, or sneak into the legacy apartments and put glue in Carmen Van Ness' shampoo bottle." I know he's just trying to lighten the mood, because I can see the concern under his smile. "You don't have to go back with him, Jane. I can hide you somewhere he'll never find you."
A part of me wants to take him up on his offer. Not to disappear, but to sneak out of the library and go visit the guys at Bleak House. Right now, I want comfort, to push the ugly images out of my head with more kisses and cuddles on the sofa. But I know the reprieve would be short-lived, since it's the first place Manson would look. Even if he didn't find me there with the guys, he'd suspect them of hiding me. And while I'm not sure how far he'd go to get his free-use mercy back under his thumb, I refuse to put the guys in any more danger.
"What about walking out?" I ask Luke instead. "If the guards can't see us, we could just leave."
"Tried that. They scan all the entrances and exits with thermal imaging." Luke screws up his nose, looking like a disgruntled angel. "Unfortunately, what they can't see with the naked eye lights up like a bonfire on their security cameras."
"And there's no other way out? No secret tunnels or gap in the perimeter we can slip through?" My shoulders slump when he shakes his head, but I quickly push my disappointment aside. I might have come here looking for proof about packs and communes, but I'm leaving here with something a lot more explosive. "We have evidence that could bring them all down, Luke. We have to get it into the right hands, so everyone knows the truth."
Fear flickers across his face again, but he shutters it quickly. "Let me think about it, okay?"
I want to argue, but I know he's right to be cautious. Not only do we have to make sure the evidence is solid, but we also have to decide who we should give it to. The newspapers? The Crimson Claw? Or should we try to find an ally closer to home, someone who could use the information to expose the corruption in the council and military?
"Don't take too long," I caution Luke. "I'll follow your lead, but we need to put a plan together soon."
"Especially because Family Day is around the corner."
I wince, but I guess it's proof Luke has been listening into our conversations for a while. "Yeah, we have a week. And I won't get many chances to meet up with you before then."
"Leave that to me," he says with a wink, then peers around the end of the bookshelf. "Ready to head back into the real world?"
I press my lips together, but nod. "Okay. And does that require another kiss?"
His grin is back as he loops a finger around my lapel and pulls me towards him. "It's a tough job, but someone has to do it."
This kiss is gentle, like the brush of warm hands down my arms, and when he pulls away, the stacks come back into dull, dusty focus. I stick my hands out and the shimmer is gone, the edges of my blazer sharper, and my skin no longer dusted in pearls.
I turn in a slow circle, looking for Luke. "When will I see you again?" There's no response and I peer into empty space, searching for a glimpse of him. "Luke? Are you still here?"
"Where the fuck were you?"
I almost swallow my tongue as I spin around and find Manson glaring at me from the end of the row. Parker is looking over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed in accusation. "The bathroom. I had an… emergency. And then I came to find a book on -."
"You stay in my line of sight at all times," Manson barks, striding forward to grab my arm. His scent is like a battering ram, and I flinch away, but he drags me out of the row. "If I'm not around, Parker is my eyes, get it? "
"Yes, but I was right here." I look pointedly at my backpack, hanging from Parker's hand. "I just lost track of time."
"I searched for you," Parker frowns, shoving my bag at me. "Didn't you hear me calling for you?"
I shrug, sliding my arms through my straps. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry."
"Keep your apologies for later," Manson snarls. Students scatter from his path as he marches me over to the stairs, Parker stalking behind like a grim shadow. "We're late for engineering, so we might as well go straight to the gym."
I look up at him, unimpressed. "We have to exercise before the game? Isn't that overkill?"
Parker just clicks his tongue at me, and I focus on not breathing either of them in as Manson drags me across the quad to the stadium. When we reach the locker room, he points to a stack of gym clothes waiting on a nearby bench. "Get changed while we go get fitted into our Trapshot gear."
I glance around the empty room. It smells like sweat and bleach, but for the moment it's blessedly free of other alphas. "Can I take a shower? I didn't get time this morning."
Manson looks like he's about to argue until Parker mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like omega business . The big alpha grimaces before nodding at the showers and retreating like the air is infectious.
I'd snigger if I wasn't feeling so sick, my head throbbing with the information Luke has uncovered. I need to go back and study the documents more closely, but if they really do detail a program of biological warfare against Vistria, it explains why the war escalated so violently. It also compromises our alliances with other neighboring countries, some of whom have taken our side in the conflict. If the truth came out, would they turn a blind eye or pursue a case of war crimes against the Civin States? I know that politics isn't black and white, but I'm not sure that any of our allies would support the targeting of civilian populations – especially if they really were trying to wipe out future generations.
Swallowing a groan, I hurry into one of the shower cubicles and hang my backpack on the hook. I unbutton my blazer, pulling the archive file out and slipping it into my bag. It doesn't feel as momentous as it did down in the dusty storeroom, but I still want to discover more about the packs and communes .
One life-altering mystery at a time , I tell myself as I strip off my clothes, tucking them on the bench next to the towels and shower products. It's a generous space, which isn't really surprising since no expense seems to be spared when it comes to the Trap Team. I grab some body wash and a loofah, fiddling with the settings until a gush of steamy water is pouring down on my head. I soap myself up, marveling at the way my skin is still buzzing from Luke's invisibility trick. Only, as I tip my head forward and let the spray pound down on my tight shoulders, I have to admit it was more than a trick. I can still taste his sweet-tart breath on my tongue, and when I saw his skin up close, that iridescent sheen definitely didn't come from a body lotion.
He called it camouflage, but could it have a more scientific name?
Metachrosis, maybe?
It seems crazy, but many animal species alter their appearance to improve their chances of survival. By adjusting their skin pigment to match their habitat, cuttlefish blend seamlessly with their environment, avoiding the hungry gaze of predators.
But how did Luke end up like that? Is it a rare genetic condition or a more sinister mutation? He said he'd been a special guest of Van Ness' research division. Was his chameleon nature forced on him – like an infertility pathogen – or is it an adaptation he developed as a survival mechanism?
I'm still trying to fit the puzzle pieces together when the stall door opens and a mostly naked Travis Wake slips in behind me.
I gasp as his hot, heavy body leans against my back, his hands gripping my hips as he nuzzles my scalp. "What are you doing here?"
Not that I'm complaining. My heart is suddenly so bright and full, I can barely expand my lungs enough to catch my breath. But I quickly turn in his arms, looking him over for signs of damage. I try to keep it clinical, but it's hard not to stare at the dips and ridges of his body, or the tight black boxers that are only inches from my hips. "Are you okay? How did you get out of the house?"
"Avery set off a fire alarm in the utilities block next door, and when Drew sent out a distress call on social media, they had to evacuate us."
I can just picture it, the twins masterminding the mayhem while Travis watches on like a scowly rock. Except that he's never one to miss a good opportunity. "And you just slipped away in all the confusion?"
"That was the plan," he murmurs, his hands sliding down my wet back. "Although I may have socked one of the guards in the jaw when he came after me."
"Travis! Aren't they military police?"
"Campus security," he snorts. "Basically, one step up from a pool lifeguard."
"That doesn't mean they won't come after you!"
He shuffles his feet, our hips brushing together as he bends down to nuzzle my neck. "Can you tell me off later, Jane? Right now, I really need to kiss you."
I click my tongue, but it's mostly for show. I don't want him taking any risks for me, but I can't hide how happy I am to see him. My arms wind around his neck, my heart beating even faster as my breasts drag across his chest. He's warm and solid, the friction of skin eased by the soapy water. Every nerve ending seems to sing at the contact, and then his lips are on mine, his kiss slow and sensual. With the water beating down on us, all I can hear is that song in my blood and the low rumbling sounds he makes as our tongues dance together.
I want to savor this moment, but how can I forget where we are? That Manson and Parker – or any of their teammates – could walk in right now?
And then Travis goes down on his knees, and the whole world spins away.
"Can I kiss you here, baby?"
His breath is even hotter than the water, marking the sensitive skin of my thighs. I shudder, but my legs are already opening, his big hands stroking over my hips as he draws me closer.
He presses kisses across my stomach, and I don't know if he's talking to me or himself when he murmurs, "Just a little… just to have you on my tongue."
"Yes," I tell him, shivering as he works his way lower. The drag of his nose along my lower belly makes me shiver, and then his soft lips are on my folds. A sound like a purr comes out of him and he curls his hands around my thighs, his kisses interspersed with tiny nibbles and teasing licks. "Travis. Please."
"Please, what, baby?" he rumbles, his tongue sliding along my seam. "More kisses?"
"Yes, more." I stare down at his head, the water streaming through his inky hair and cascading down the arch of his broad back. My fingers look pale and desperate where they clutch his huge shoulders, and I wonder if he can feel the tremble in my knees. "Travis, I want to feel… "
"Tell me, Jane," he almost pleads. "What do you want?"
"I want to feel you inside me."
The words come out of me in a rush, too loud for where we are. But Travis tips his head back, eyes narrowed against the spray. The glow of satisfaction behind his inky lashes almost turns my knees to water. "Tongue or fingers, baby?"
Do I have to choose?
"No, never." It takes me a moment to realize I've asked the question out loud, and then the warm weight of his tongue slips between my folds. He gives a hungry rumble as he tastes me, his hands tightening on my thighs. When his tongue slides across my nub, I whimper, my shoulders slapping back against the wet tile.
"I've got you," he says, an arm braced around me as he slips the tip of a finger into my heat. I'm slippery and soft, but it still feels so full , and I can't swallow my gasp. Travis goes still, his head tipped back to watch me as I give my hips a tentative rock. "Is this okay, Jane?"
I make a whimpering sound of assent, and his finger slides in deeper. Little sparks explode under my skin, and then his finger curls, brushing my nub. I shudder and he pauses again, so I reach down and nudge his hand. "Don't stop. It feels so good."
His answering smile is enough to make my stomach clench. He kisses the top of my mound, his finger rubbing me with slow, steady circles. Pleasure blooms deep inside me, radiating out like an electric current. "More," I tell him, biting my lip to hold in a moan. I'm rocking against him now, chasing the sensations dancing under my skin. "Please don't stop."
"Never, baby," he pants, and I look down to see him squirming on his knees. The issue is obvious, straining inside his soaked boxers.
"Touch yourself," I gasp, bracing my back against the wall. "I want you to come with me."
He groans, low and helpless, but he doesn't hesitate to peel down his waistband and pull out his erection. It's so hard, it looks like ivory marble against his big palm, the head flushed pink at the tip. He makes another desperate sound as he wraps his fingers tight, and then he's pressing his tongue against my nub, his groans burrowing into my flesh.
Pleasure spirals, his finger and tongue driving me to a sudden peak. I look down, and the view only makes me clench tighter. The steamy water, his bowed head, the sight of him pleasuring himself – it all sends me hurtling over the edge .
I cry out, my vision rippling as I ride the soaring wave of my orgasm. Wetness gushes out of me, Travis' tongue licking it up as he groans and finds his own release. For a moment all I can smell are our combined scents, the musk of alpha mingling with the slick of omega.
"So beautiful," he huffs, rubbing his cheek on my stomach as we both try to catch our breath. My hands rake slowly through his wet hair, my hazy eyes barely tracking him as he pops the top of the body wash, squirting it down the drain before rubbing a handful into my thighs. "I'm not sharing this moment with any of these fuckers."
It's enough to make me shrink against the wall, and he utters a soft curse as he heaves himself upright. "Sorry. I didn't mean to ruin the moment with my big mouth."
"Don't ever apologize for your big mouth," I smile, pulling him closer until I'm wrapped in his arms. "And I'm glad one of us is thinking straight."
He grunts, squeezing me tighter. "I didn't actually come in here planning to do that. I wanted to talk to you about tonight." He tips my chin back, worry swimming in his eyes. "Manson is blackmailing you, right?"
I bite my lip. "He knows I'm a mercy," I admit, feeling his body stiffen with anger. "But he's keeping it a secret. He just wants me to heal him if he gets hurt."
"I bet he does," Travis says bitterly, his gaze falling to my lips. "But those Trapshot meatheads don't give a shit if you get hurt. All they care about is another lame ass trophy for their cabinet."
He pauses, his eyes darkening as he tilts his head. Reaching behind him, he cracks the door open an inch and glares through the gap. "Listening at keyholes, Manson? And you call me the freak?"
"I'm not the one showering with our blade boy," comes back the sarcastic reply, but there's no denying the hint of violence in his voice. "The rest of the team is two minutes away, so finish the hell up and get out of here."
I thought we had at least half a period left, but like usual when I'm wrapped up in Travis, time seems to lose all meaning. Slamming off the water, I scramble for my towel, but Travis just strides out of the cubicle, water sliding off his naked body and pooling on the floor. "You need to back the hell off, Manson. Jane's not for you."
"Jane?" I knot the towel above my breasts, stumbling out as Manson says in a cold tone, "I thought his name was Jack."
"It's Jane," I murmur, my cheeks burning as I meet his gaze. "You didn't ask, so I didn't tell you."
Manson's eyes narrow, but Travis sweeps me behind him with an arm. "Now you know who she is, you can't be putting an omega on the field."
"If not her, then who?" Manson gives Travis a mocking look. "Are you volunteering to take her place? Because if you do, I can promise you won't make it off the field without losing at least one body part."
"Stop it!" I push between them, fighting off nightmare images of a maimed Travis bleeding out in the middle of the field – and I wouldn't be able to save him. "He's not doing it, I am." I turn to grip Travis' arm, my other hand cupping his cheek. "I can do this, I promise. I won't take any dumb risks, and you know I can heal myself if it comes to that."
The reminder doesn't seem to placate him, his arms winding possessively around me as he scowls at Manson over my head. "If she gets so much as a scratch on her tonight, I'll end you. You know I have nothing to lose."
I grip Travis' waist, resting my head on his chest. Hearing him say those words makes my heart clench for a number of reasons, but Manson just sneers at him. "You think this is rock bottom? Getting house arrest with your criminal buddies? You're a fucking fool, Wake. Get out of here before I call the real MPs."
I can feel the fury tightening Travis' muscles, and I know he's a heartbeat away from launching himself at Manson. Because even though attacking the general's son would get him a lot worse than house arrest, he really is that close to the edge. And knowing I'm going to be on the Trapshot field tonight – and there's nothing he can do to protect me – is making him dangerously reckless.
"Five minutes!" I blurt out as I face Manson. "Just give us five minutes to say goodbye, and then he'll go quietly, okay?"
Travis stiffens behind me, and Manson shakes his head like I'm a lost cause. But then he grits his teeth and points towards an instructor's office. "Five. And get dressed, for fuck's sake. You're about an inch of fabric away from flashing the whole team."
The scorn in his voice makes me flinch, but I grab Travis' hand and pull him towards the empty office. Shoving him against the edge of the desk, I go back to collect our clothes, tossing him his jeans and sweater while I dress in record time.
Travis looks completely unconcerned by Manson's threats, watching me pull on my Trapshot uniform with a gleam in his eyes. He might hate the game – or the fact I'm scheduled to make my debut appearance tonight – but he seems to like the black tactical vest and skin-tight pants. When I stare at my unimpressive mound in dismay, he tips his head back and laughs. "You're supposed to wear a cup, cutie. Hold on a sec. They'll have some around here somewhere."
He goes to rummage in the locker in the corner while I fiddle with all the buckles and flaps on my vest. "Travis, I need to ask you to do something, but I can't really explain why."
"Okay. What do you need?" I must look pretty shocked because he shrugs as he gives me the cup. It's bigger and harder than the one I used for swimming and I'm already squirming. "I know you wouldn't ask unless you had to. Besides, if you haven't worked it out by now, I'm putty in your hands, Jane."
Why does that make me want to melt all over the office floor?
If he's putty, I'm clearly mush.
"It's nothing dangerous," I rush to assure him. "But I need you to give Luke a message for me." When his eyebrows knot in confusion, I click my tongue. "I mean Cutter. I met him this morning."
"Really?" Travis looks both wary and intrigued. "How? Where?"
"In the library. He just kind of… popped up out of nowhere."
Travis scratches his jaw, clearly perplexed. "Seriously? He's never said much to me, or any of the guys as far as I know."
I wonder why that is, since he's borderline chatty with me. Although, I have to admit, he has an annoying way of dodging my questions.
"Well, he's an interesting person, and I want to get to know him better." Travis is trying to read my expression, but I don't give anything away. It's not my place to reveal Luke's secrets, and this definitely isn't the place to talk about what he's uncovered about the war. Those explosive revelations will have to wait until Luke can smuggle me into Bleak House. "Can you leave a note for him?"
I look around, then grab a piece of paper and pen off the instructor's desk, quickly dashing off a request to meet me at the stadium right after the game. At the last moment, I sign it with a ‘J', just in case anyone else happens to catch a glimpse of it.
"That's it?" Travis scans the note as I hand it over, but then he's back to searching my face. "If you need someone to get you away from these Trapshot nuts, I'll do it. Just ask, Jane, and I'll take you with me right now."
I reach up and try to smooth the troubled lines around his mouth. " It's not that, Travis. There's something Luke can help me with, that's all."
He gives a slow nod, and I have to bite my lip, because it feels wrong to add to his worries like this. But how can blurting out the truth help him in any way? Because Luke wasn't wrong when he said some secrets are like a live grenade in my hand. Until I can put all the pieces of the puzzle together, I'm in danger of blowing myself – and everyone I care about – into a million pieces.
I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him, and he pulls me tight, humming against my hair. But then he leans back, tugging the waistband of my skin tight pants away from my body. My eyes widen, and he shoots me a smirk. "I just need to do something…"
I watch, entranced, as he brings the protective cup up to his face and places a deep kiss inside the plastic shell. He doesn't break eye contact, and I feel my cheeks burn as he slides it inside my underwear. My breath catches as his fingers stroke over my sensitive mound. "While you're out there dodging knives and crossbow bolts, I want you to think of me."
I open my mouth to tell him that's an easy promise, but he presses a hand to my lips. "And don't forget the golden rule."
I nod, breathing in his scent, because I don't need to say it out loud.
If I'm in danger, if there's no way to win the fight, then there's only one thing to do.
Run.