Duality (Part 2)

It's the silence that percolates my stunned state first, a silence too rapidly marred by the sound of as yet distant but obviously approaching voices. I extend my senses further, seeking confirmation of my slowly returning memories, recognising and welcoming the reassuring warmth and protection of the firmly muscled weight pressed against me, and the arms pulling my head into the safe haven of his embrace. I can feel the smooth skin of his neck lying against my face and I revel in the sensation, allowing myself the very brief thrill of inhaling the subtle, musky scent emanating from him, knowing that just a slight movement on my part would allow my lips access to that elegant throat I was admiring earlier.

Some fleeting memory hovers at the edge of my perception, something I know is important, but the more I try to grasp it the more my head starts to hurt. A tentative flexing of my arms and legs reveals the cold, uneven, yet unyielding pressure of broken rock against those parts of my body not shielded by his, and with an involuntary shudder I finally remember. The roof falling in. Anya falling. Anya! NO...!!

I open my eyes to a dark and dust-filled world, quickly aware that somehow we have avoided being completely entombed by the disintegrating ceiling, but horrified by what I can see before me in the gloom - a solid mass of tumbled stone blocking the passage. I try to control the fear rising in me, fear not for myself but for my sister, fighting the trembling that accompanies my growing conviction that she's lying under that mass and my frustration at my inability to go to her aid.

My tremors must communicate my anxiety to my protector because he shifts above me, and I have to bite back a protest at the loss of the comforting contact as he slides his arms from under my neck to raise his head and shoulders. He looks around, keenly assessing our situation, and in the half-light I can see the strong lines of his face, elegantly handsome despite the coating of dust and the trickle of what looks like blood on his forehead, and those amazing eyes, gleaming green one second and silver the next. But his expression freezes at the sight of the obstruction behind him, the silver hardening to slate grey, and I can sense that he's as concerned for his friend as I am for Anya.

The shouting is coming ever closer and he seems to shake himself mentally, eyes closing as he focuses his energies, straining to escape the constricting burden the rockfall has placed on him, seemingly oblivious to the pain it must cause him. I manage to release my arms from the rubble and do what I can to help, but our exertions seem to succeed only in adding to my quivering as I feel the long, strong muscles of his slim, sculpted body moving against mine. And although he continues to work to free us I know he knows they will be here before he can manage it.

He lowers himself gently again, a wry smile pulling at those tempting, mobile lips and a hint of resigned humour in his eyes as he relaxes against me. Resting his head beside mine, he whispers apologies, his warm breath against my ear starting up more delightful shivers which I try to push aside as totally inappropriate for these circumstances.

He mistakes my trembling for distress, which I must confess is only partly the cause, telling me not to worry yet, that knowing Chris he'll have my sister out and safe and be charging to the rescue. My assertion that with Anya involved it's more likely to be the other way round raises a soft laugh which does unmentionable things to my pulse rate. But we've both seen what has become of the passageway where they were standing and neither of us can have any real illusions that help will be forthcoming from that direction.

He tells me to lie still, in the hope that the approaching searchers - who can only be the opposition - will pass us by and give us more time to work our way out. I bring my hands up tentatively to rest against the firm flesh of his back, resisting the urge to slip them under his jumper to find out if the skin there is as smooth as that I've already encountered, and nod my agreement into the reassuring warmth of his long neck. My head is thudding now, but I try and breathe as deeply as I can given his welcome weight pressing against me, calming my thoughts and pushing the pain to one side.

I realise that once again I'm the helpless one, and that this time I can't be sure that Anya will be there to save me. But I badly want to believe in her ability to survive as much as she believes in me, and I seek to clear my mind of doubts and fears, letting my thoughts reach out to her wherever she is, visualising only the happy reunion to come.

From somewhere in the depths of my consciousness comes an answering voice, faint but full of certainty tempered by concern for me. I find myself tightening my arms in silent celebration around the solid calming warmth lying so close to me as I allow myself to believe that she is really coming to get me.

And not even the flickering torch beams heralding discovery by our adversaries can destroy the bubble of hope that knowledge creates in me.

*****

ANYA

The inter-linked passageways echo with the sounds of shouting and footsteps as we make our way cautiously back into the labyrinth, seeking to circle around the blockage and regain our original tunnel on the other side. But it's clear from the panic colouring the voices and the ominous rumblings still lingering in the stuffy, dusty air that the danger is not past.

Several times we are forced to take refuge in the shadows to avoid detection, pulling back together out of the main thoroughfares until the enemy has passed. Although I chafe at the delay this causes, I cannot help but be distracted by the heady sensations of being pressed up against the alluringly powerful contours of his body, experiencing a strange feeling of loss each time we move apart again.

We take it in turns to lead, weapons - retrieved from the rubble after the searchers had moved on - at the ready, one leapfrogging to check the way is clear while the other covers. I watch him prowling ahead of me, noting again his athletic grace, trying not to focus on the play of his tightly muscled butt and thighs under the black combats or the tanned skin of his broad back visible through the rips in his jumper.

My fingers itch to reach out and poke through those rips and caress the flesh beneath in an insane urge to find out if those toned, rippling muscles are really as solid and malleable as they look. However, the rips also reveal the damage caused by the falling rock, and I promise myself the task of tending to those cuts and grazes once we have achieved our goal.

But all the time I am clinging to my distant awareness of Lyssa's soothing presence, trying to hide my anxiety, praying we won't be too late.

More voices echo from around the next bend and, face hard and focussed now, he turns to signal to me, pointing to the rocky alcove half way between us, moving silently to meet me there. We shrink back into its limited shelter, trying to become one with the dark walls, and I find myself pulled close to him with my face buried against his shoulder, that masculine scent doing it's damnedest to prevent me concentrating on the approaching danger.

The pounding footsteps draw nearer and the garbled words take on clearer definition, and I feel my companion's arms tense around me as we both take in what's being said. Captives, two of them, rescued from the cave-in, taken to the complex's nerve centre. The additional comments about that not being a place either of the two men would like to be right now given the instability of the environment is not lost on us either.

The voices fade and I draw back slightly to look up at him, seeing my relief mirrored in the clear blue eyes staring back at me, the small smile reaching those full lips producing just a hint of dimple. He raises a questioning eyebrow and inclines his head, his gestures saying "Shall we?" as clearly as if he'd spoken the words. I smile in return and nod my agreement, following him out into the passageway again.

I'm coming, Lyssa.

We move quickly now we know where we're going, now we know what's waiting for us there, our progress helped by the apparent lack of opposition - though the probable reason for their absence is less than encouraging. The oppressive atmosphere and grumbling complaints of the brooding mountain towering above us lend wings to our heels to bring us back to the cavern where I first encountered this man and his partner.

We pause to take stock of our surroundings, peering round the corner towards the room where Lyssa had been held earlier, seeing the two armed men standing nervously outside. They obviously don't want to be there, but are as yet unable to overcome whatever motives keep them loyal to their cause. But their presence confirms we're in the right place.

Strong warm hands pull me away down the passageway, his head dropping close to mine to whisper in my ear, lightly stubbled cheek brushing my skin and sending my pulse rate soaring again. He tells me I should move back, create a diversion, draw the guards from their post so he can free the others.

I push away the growing quivers created by the soft caress of his breath against my neck, suggesting that in fact he should be the one to do the distracting because he seems to do it so well. That appears to render him speechless, his head lifting to look down at me, a touch of speculation in his appraising gaze.

I know he wants to argue, that he's unwilling to relinquish responsibility for his friend's safety to a stranger - because that's exactly how I feel myself, despite the fact this man is obviously very good at what he does. So I don't give him the chance. I allow myself to momentarily give in to the temptation that I've been struggling to deny, raising my lips to brush lingeringly against the soft fullness of his, grinning in satisfaction at his startled expression as I slip away into the darkness on the edges of the cavern. Dropping to the ground, smiling inwardly and savouring the tingling feelings generated by the brief contact, I work my way forward and await his signal to move.

I'm here, Lyssa. Not long now....

*****

LYSSA

Anya's here. I don't really know how I know, but I can sense her, close now.

Not as close as my silver-eyed protector though, and right at this moment I'm torn between welcoming the distraction his nearness provides and needing to stay focussed on taking our chance for freedom when it comes.

They'd pulled us from the piled rubble, harsh voices echoing around us, impatient hands hauling us to our feet, pushing us back towards the centre of their complex again. The loss of the heat generated in me by his close contact left me shivering despite the warmth of the unmoving air. He incurred the wrath of our captors by trying to move back towards me and I felt a surge of gratitude at his concern for my safety. Even as he stumbled away under their ministrations, though, his compelling eyes caught and held mine, and the composure and encouragement in his startlingly brilliant gaze was just what I needed to lift myself to face whatever was to come.

I was shoved into motion a few yards behind him, my eyes drawn to the toned contours of his back, sturdy shoulders tapering down to a slim waist, firm hips and an exemplary butt, and I enjoyed the view even in the rather desperate circumstances. I could see, though, that he was trying hard to disguise the obvious stiffness in his long black-clad legs, and when I looked closer I could see the tears in the fabric of his clothing, glimpses of blood-streaked but still hugely appealing muscular flesh making the reason clear. But despite the stiffness, his every movement still radiated an elegant, fluid grace.

They'd brought us here to these familiar surroundings, surroundings I had plenty of opportunity to examine during my earlier incarceration, relieving my companion of papers he had been carrying in the thigh pocket of his trousers, then cuffing us together. They'd started questioning us but it seemed half-hearted and I was secretly amused by how unnerved they were by my saviour's icy glare. When urgent calls came for them to help quell the growing rebellion within their own ranks they went willingly, leaving us alone again.

I can feel him now, trying to get to the cuffs attaching his wrists round the central pillar of the room, every movement setting off little sparks of pleasure in me as his body presses into mine. My hands are held together behind him, one arm draped over his shoulder and the other pulled up around his side across his back, linking us inextricably, and trapping me in the circle of his arms with my back against the pillar. It's a position I could quite happily get used to being in, I think, allowing myself the luxury of letting my head fall forward against his neck, savouring his distinctive aroma and the delightful play of his muscles as he works.

I know I should tell him it's OK, that Anya is here, but I have to admit to wanting the sensations to last so I stay quiet, nestling closer to him. I finally give in momentarily to the sensations he's engendering in me and brush a light kiss against his tempting throat. He stops trying to free himself for a moment and I cannot help but smile at his slightly stunned look.

The moment is broken as gunfire suddenly shatters the heavy air, followed by footsteps moving away, and his head snaps up to look round. We hear the door creak open, and over his shoulder I see a shadow slipping into the room. But this time the shadow is her - she's come for me, as I knew she would - her eyes lighting up as she moves towards us, her relief and pleasure flooding across the space between us to wrap me in their comforting blanket. I sense him tensing up for a moment and then relaxing as he recognises my sister.

She has our cuffs undone in seconds, responding to my fellow captive's low urgent questions about his friend - Chris - with a grin and a nod towards the intermittent commotion outside, turning immediately in that direction again and urging us to follow her. I can see the relief in the silvery-green eyes, in contrast to the determined set of his firm but elegant jaw as he forces his obviously aching legs into action again, scooping up the papers and hiding them away before grabbing my arm and hustling me out of the room.

The place is in uproar, those ominous rumbles building in volume and frequency as we chase after her, the renewed anxiety I can feel radiating from her changing to happiness - and something else? - at the sight of the familiar figure that appears from the shadows ahead. The flash of emotion that warms the man's ice blue eyes as he recognises us is reciprocated by the quick grin from my protector but both of them sober quickly, hurrying us on.

We run through the nightmare world of quivering rock and dim lighting, Anya and her companion leading again, seeking a clear route to the outside, finding detours round obstructions and evading the occasional guard still resident in the complex. I keep pace beside my dark-haired hero, impressed by his tenacity and strength of character as he overcomes his physical discomforts, relishing the occasional touch of those long, supple fingers on my arm or back as we move ever onwards.

The air becomes fresher as the rumbling increases, and distantly ahead I can see a circle of a different kind of light, soft, blue-tinged. Sensing escape we run towards that moonlit entrance, driven on by the final death knells of the caves as they collapse in succession behind us.

*****

ANYA/LYSSA

We burst from the tunnel mouth into the cool night air - and just in time. An enormous deafening thunder races up from behind us, building in volume and sending clouds of dust billowing out to envelop us in their choking folds as we scramble away over the unevenly sloping ground running up to the forest. I can sense my sister running beside me with our black-clad shadows urging us, one leading and one bringing up the rear, unwilling to let us stop until we know we're safe.

We finally come to a panting halt in the concealing shadows of the treeline, and look back to see the tunnel entrance completely blocked by a sea of rock cascading from the hillside above.

Breath coming in huge gulps, legs shaking with effort, I sag back against the support of a huge pine tree, eyes closed and trembling involuntarily as I realise how close it had been. The sudden touch of strong but gentle hands against my arms through the cooling but still perspiration-damp cloth of my shirt is startling, and my eyes flare open to see him standing close in front of me, concern written clearly across his handsome features.

The sight of the dried blood marring the smooth skin of his forehead reminds me of the injuries he sustained trying to protect me during the first cave-in. But he seems to sense my concern and I see the corners of his mouth curve into a gentle smile as he assures me that he's fine. I look into his expressive eyes for a few moments and finally nod my head in quiet acceptance. I, in turn, assure him that I'm fine, though given the way my body seems to be reacting to his presence at this moment that's not strictly true, and see relief flood those beautiful eyes as I speak.

Unthinking, driven by images and feelings sweeping through my mind which are strangely familiar yet at the same time not of my own creation, I reach fingers to wipe at the streaks of dust across his sweat-sheened cheek, letting them trail along the firm line of his jaw to slide round to the back of his neck, running up through his silky dark... no, soft brown... hair.

His grip tightens igniting those flickering fires deep within me...which oddly become shivers of delight to flood my senses... and I can see my rising need - a natural reaction to danger just past, I tell myself - reflected in the blue-grey... or is that silver-green?... depths of his eyes.

His hands move around and across my back, pulling me to him, and I mould myself to the firm contours of his body, my fingers trickling down to his shoulders, probing and massaging the powerful... no, smoothly toned... muscles hidden by the fine black wool. He slides his hands down over my waist, tugging my hips against his, and I can feel his growing passion, passion echoed by my own racing pulse and the heated rush of blood in my ears.

I gaze up into his face, seeing the smile playing at the corners of that infinitely kissable mouth, creasing the smoothness of his cheeks below the sculpted cheekbones... aristocratic... strong?... yes ...no... or....could that be... dimples?... no...yes...the moonlight filtering through the trees highlighting his high forehead below the spiky brown hair... a forehead shadowed by the glossy wings of dark silk falling across it... over fiery blue, blue eyes which melt my bones... fascinatingly warm green eyes that turn my insides into boiling liquid...drawing me into their depths...mobile...full...soft mouth lowering to meet mine.

I close my eyes and lose myself in the overwhelming pleasures of his caressing lips, tongue demanding and gaining access, bodies merging, hands roaming, touching, setting off fiery sparks that rampage through me unchecked.

The flashing images linked to ever-changing sensations are intensely stimulating and I - we - can only cling to him - them - as my - our - knees start to tremble, the power of our shared emotions and experiences blurring vision but sharpening senses, I becoming her, she becoming me, he becoming they. And they are both everything we need...

FINIS