30. Peter

30

PETER

T he setting sun cast long shadows across the neatly manicured lawn as Peter headed home. He was looking forward to a couple of hours with Marina before leaving on tonight's mission.

It was not the usual personnel, and they were raiding a large cell that was supposed to receive a new delivery of trafficked people from south of the border. They had to get to the victims before the monsters had a chance to violate them and then distribute them down the chain.

Lately, it seemed like the number of victims had been steadily increasing, and they were also getting younger. In the last raid Peter had taken part in, there had been two girls under ten years old and three boys even younger than that.

It was a disturbing trend that made Peter sick to his stomach.

What kind of monsters did that to children? It was so revolting, so evil, that the only way he could deal with it was to keep the information locked in a small compartment in his head that was dedicated to all the atrocities he'd witnessed over the years.

It wasn't the kind of stuff he could share with Marina or anyone else who wasn't on the force and exposed to the same cesspool of the so-called humanity.

Having another Guardian as a roommate was helpful because he could at least unload some of that crap on Alfie and vice versa.

Not that talking about it did either of them any good—they just got themselves more worked up—but according to the clan's therapist, it wasn't healthy to keep things bottled up.

Her advice was to find someone who could deal with what they needed to unburden, and if they didn't have someone they felt comfortable doing that with, she encouraged them to talk to her.

Whatever. Talking or not talking about it didn't really make a difference to him.

The only light in the gloomy state of affairs was that more Kra-ell were joining the force each day, and they didn't need a lot of training to become mission-ready. They had trained in hand-to-hand combat for most of their lives and just needed to be taught the handling of guns and explosives.

The hardest part for them was learning English, and that was still a work in progress, probably because they kept to themselves and watched television with Russian subtitles.

But even that shouldn't keep them from missions.

With William's latest improvement to the translating earpieces, the language barrier was not a problem.

Stepping through the front door, Peter let the familiar scent of home wash over him, instantly soothing his irritation and pre-mission jitters.

"Marina?" he called out as he closed the door behind him.

"In the kitchen!" her voice rang out, warm and excited.

Coming home now that Marina was waiting for him was so much more pleasant than it had been when it was only him and Alfie.

He found Marina at the kitchen island chopping vegetables for dinner, and the sight of her, so domestic and contented, made his heart swell.

She looked up as he entered, her face lighting up with a smile that never failed to take his breath away. "Hey, you," she said, setting down her knife and wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "How was the prep?"

He crossed the room in a few quick strides, wrapped his arms around her, and planted a kiss on her forehead. "The usual. I'm glad it's done and that I have a couple of hours I can spend with you before heading out."

The smile slid off her face. "You look tense. Is the mission dangerous?"

It was hard to hide things from Marina. She was too attuned to him to miss the slightest change in mood.

"No more than the others. It's a bit of a larger operation than what we usually do, but we are also going in with a larger force, so it's going to be alright. You have nothing to worry about."

She shook her head. "That's what you always say, but I can't help it. I know that you are immortal and that your body expels bullets, but still. A well-aimed shot could be deadly even to an immortal."

"True, but it is highly unlikely any of these humans will prove to be trained snipers or that they will even think that accuracy is needed. All any of the scum will care about is hitting their target to slow us down so they can escape like the rats they are."

Marina frowned at the vehemence in his voice, but she didn't comment on it. She knew more than she let on, and he loved her even more for understanding and not pressing him for answers he preferred not to give.

"Just be careful, okay? Don't rely on your fast-healing body to withstand an assault. Wear your Kevlar vest and your helmet to protect your heart and your head."

"Yes, Ma'am." He saluted and then kissed the top of her nose. "I have the best reason in the world to want to come home in one piece." He let go of her. "When will dinner be ready?"

"When you sit down." She turned around and dropped the vegetables she'd been chopping into a bowl. "Is Alfie coming, too?"

"Not right away." Peter sat down. "I think he and Lusha are meeting for coffee at the café."

Marina poured dressing over the salad and put it on the table. "Enjoy." She sat across from him.

"You first." He pushed the bowl toward her.

She rolled her eyes but didn't argue. He never served himself first, and she knew it would be futile for her to insist that he did.

Peter wasn't a great fan of salads, but everything Marina made tasted great, even vegetables, and he was hungry.

"I ran into Bridget at the café this morning," Marina said. "We had a very interesting conversation about the possibility of your venom prolonging my life."

Peter's eyebrows shot up. "What did she say?"

"She thinks that's a valid hypothesis, and she wants to test it. Apparently, no one has ever really studied the long-term effects of immortal venom on humans who aren't Dormants. She thinks it could potentially have cumulative healing effects and prolong my life. I agreed to provide blood samples once a week to monitor my aging process and see if it slowed down over time."

"What is she going to check?"

"She wants to monitor my cellular aging and check for any changes in my telomeres."

"What are telomeres?" Peter asked, reaching for his phone to search for a definition.

"Let me see if I remember what Bridget said. Telomeres are kind of protective caps at the ends of our chromosomes, and supposedly, they get shorter as we age. I mean, as humans age. Bridget thinks the venom might slow down that shortening process or maybe even reverse it."

Peter let out a low whistle. "Wow. I mean, I knew my venom was good for you, but I never imagined it could be that good."

"Bridget seemed pretty excited about the possibilities, so I suggested that she test Lusha as well since she's dating Alfie now. Bridget said that Lusha is part Kra-ell, so her results might be different than mine, but she is excited about testing her, too."

"That's great. I don't know how serious Alfie is about Lusha, but I have no doubt that he will enjoy participating in the study." Peter chuckled. "It's not like it's a great hardship for him."

"It is not." Marina smiled suggestively. "For the study to have the best chance, you will have to bite me every night."

Peter got hard just thinking about the duty he was going to perform with utmost pleasure. "If my venom can really prolong your life, I will double up on the biting. Every morning and every night."

Marina laughed. "You can't produce that much venom every day, and if you could, I can't blackout in the morning when I need to go to work."

Peter waggled his brows. "It depends on what time we wake up."

Normally, even once a day was considered a lot. Immortals could climax many times without even pausing to rest, but their venom glands were a different story. They usually were good for only one bite a day.

Usually.

There were ways to make them produce enough for two.

Peter puffed out his chest. "I'll make it happen even if I have to double up on food intake. I will produce enough for two bites. And there's no better time to start than now." He wiped his mouth with a napkin and rose to his feet.

"Oh really?" Marina quirked an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. "What about dinner?"

"It can wait. This can't."

"And what about Alfie? He might come home any minute."

Peter waved a dismissive hand. "Alfie's not going to bother us." In one swift motion, he scooped Marina up and threw her over his shoulder, eliciting a squeal of surprised laughter from her. "To the bedroom! We have a mission to accomplish."

As Peter carried Marina through the house, her laughter echoing off the walls, he marveled at how light his heart suddenly felt.

The worry of the upcoming mission, the weight of all the evil he witnessed day in and day out, it all seemed to melt away in the face of hope.

A hope for a future with Marina that would last longer than her limited mortal lifespan.

He deposited her gently on their bed, taking a moment to drink in the sight of her.

Her cheeks were flushed from laughter, her eyes bright with love and mirth, and her blue hair fanned out over the pillow. Peter felt a wave of gratitude wash over him.

How had he gotten so lucky?

What if it didn't work, though?

What if they got their hopes up for nothing?

As if reading his mind, Marina reached out and took his hand. "Hey," she said softly. "I have high hopes for the study, but even if they get crushed, I'm still grateful for the time we have together."