“Will it kill you if you don’t treat this?” Because if it wasn’t life threatening…
“I cannot say it won’t with a hundred percent certainty, because nothing is that certain. I have a ninety-eight percent chance of success. A week of full submersion, I’ll be asleep for the majority of it, and the solution will not only provide nutrients, it will also allow me to control any fevers triggered by the treatment.”
Not for the first time, Andreas wished Oz was there. But like Valda, he’d been willing to do whatever was necessary to get Hatch and Dirk back—even get in bed with the enemy. It was a terrible idea, but Oz, like Valda, would not be persuaded otherwise.
For scientists, they held on to the passion of their convictions with a kind of single-minded fanaticism.
He found himself equal parts amused and frustrated.
“Also, if I’m successful, we can save people. Not just our family, but everyone’s families. We’ll have a way to repair the damage and to unlock the vaccine for the virus.”
“Even after its mutated so much since it was first released?” No, he didn’t have a medical degree, but he’d listened when she and Oz debated this point.
“Yes. Because my mother exposed me over and over to the virus each time a major mutation chain occurred.”
Another reason to despise the monster of a woman.
“I hate every part of this,” he informed her, and Valda slid her arms around him.
“I know you do, my devoted one. I know this is so much information and I’m rushing. But the hologram, listen to her. Dr. Bashan will know what to do and can instruct you if there is an emergency. So much of this is automated…” She licked her lips. “I need to do this, but if you truly wish me to stop, I will.”
Surprise lanced him. “Valda…”
“No, I took the choice from all of you. I took it and ran with it and to hell with the risks. I never considered what it would cost each of you. I won’t make that mistake now.”
“Explain it to me again,” he said slowly. “Step by step. Please.”
Without hesitation or impatience, she walked him through it and introduced him to each part of the process, from how she would ready herself for the tank to what happened at each stage and how it would be when she came out. When she finished, he repeated it back to her as best he could and only missed a couple of smaller things.
Still, it wasn’t enough to allay his fears.
“Then I won’t.” Though she fought it, disappointment filtered through her gaze.
“Yes, you will,” he told her, nudging her chin up and gazing in her eyes. “You need to do this. You understand it. I just fear it. I won’t be ruled by my fears.”
Her expression softened. “Will you pray for me?”
“I always pray for you,” he admitted. “Even when I forget to pray for myself or anyone else. I don’t know if He listens all that well to me, but I will bend His ear.”
That was a promise he could make.
“I’ll pray for my brothers, too.”
Valda slid her arms around his neck, and for the first time in what felt like decades, Andreas dipped his head to kiss her. It was the most finite of touches, barely there and then gone again. He tilted his head, then narrowed the gap until his lips rested against hers. A touch. A hold. Then she opened her mouth, and her breath teased him. With a single stroke of his tongue, he deepened the contact and sighed as her nails scraped lightly against the back of his neck.
This was his Valda. Alive. Warm. Vivacious. Determined. Even if she battled against the weakness in her muscles from atrophy and fought to regain her stamina. No longer restricted to the shell of a construct, she was the woman who had so completely taken his heart that he’d been able to wash the guilt from his soul and begin to repair the ragged edges.
Heat flared with every tease of her tongue against his. When a groan vibrated in her throat, he lifted her up and carried her over to the sterile sofa. The irony of kissing her again, almost like it was the first time, in this cold, white, empty mirror of the worlds they’d inhabited on and off for years wasn’t lost on him.
With care and reverence, he laid her on the sofa and then helped her out of her clothes. Bit by bit, he peeled them away until she lay bare. The gauntness of her ribs, the uncomfortable hollow of her stomach where her hip bones jutted out, and the loss of so much muscle tone to her thighs and calves all served as a reminder for how much healing she still needed to do.
While he knew he couldn’t, it still seemed like the least little thing could snap her like a twig.
Even her breasts seemed to have shrunk. There was nothing spare on her. She needed more regular meals, but she’d barely made it to solids yet, her diet still more liquid than tangible.
“I know I’m not that attractive anymore,” she said, regarding him with a smile. “But I remember when you couldn’t get enough of looking at me and didn’t catalogue all my imperfections.”
“They aren’t imperfections,” he chastised her before dipping his head to kiss her breasts, first one then the other. Her nipples pebbled as he kissed light circles around them, and when he finally sucked one against his teeth, she let out a soft humming sound and sank her hands into his hair. “And as much as I have always enjoyed your body, even when I strove not to…” He could admit it now. In the beginning, he had resisted the carnality of his feelings and focused on the ones he felt more proper.
“I know,” she whispered, then gasped as he bit down lightly. Just the scrape of teeth. As he lavished attention on her breasts, he smoothed his hands over her soft skin and down to her hips before easing her thighs apart.
Little sighs and breathy whispers escaped her, but she wasn’t talking to him so much as chanting a little encouragement.
“No, your soul had me from our first argument.” He spoke, punctuating each word with a kiss as he made his way across her abdomen to her pussy. The soft curls beckoned to him and he stroked his fingers across before sliding one finger down to part her labia. Slick heat awaited him, and he smiled as he reached her thighs. “Your soul warms mine, and I have missed your fire.”
While he would love nothing more than to sink into her heat, she was in no way ready for the more athletic areas of sex. But he could bring her pleasure and taste her in a way he’d not in so many years.
Even as he glided his tongue from her entrance to her clit, savoring the sweet and musky taste of her on his tongue, he exulted. In all their years of rebuilding constructs and trying to help her, Andreas hadn’t indulged.
She wasn’t his Valda.
He could talk to her. Tease her. Even make her laugh when he wasn’t driving her mad with an argument. But he’d not sought his pleasure with her.
Denial was something he was deeply familiar with.
This…this was coming home. He took his time, ramping her up toward orgasm, then bringing her back before driving her up again. When she tried to pull him up, he refused and gazed up the length of her body.
“Let me worship you,” he’d whispered. “Let me pleasure you. There will be time for more later. I promise.”
“I’ve missed touching you,” she reminded him, and the words twisted and found purchase in his soul. “Missed being with you, too.”