Edge of Nowhere Page 4

  Impressive that he remembered anything at all. He’d been unconscious. The collision must have jarred him awake. “It hit me,” Kit said. It had looked like light, but it had felt solid enough when it ran into him. “And now we’re here.”

  “We’ll find our way out soon enough,” Emil said. They’d only just met, but there was something in his tone that made Kit want to believe him. He sounded so sure. When Kit focused on him again, Emil was already nodding to himself. “I’ve heard that runners need to eat a huge amount of food to sustain themselves,” he was saying. “I haven’t found anything else around here that looks edible, but if this isn’t enough, I’ll take another look. Here.”

  A hand loomed in front of his face, a few berries nestled in the palm.

  Kit must have stared a moment too long, because before he knew it, Emil was pressing a berry against his lips. Feeding him. The thought made his insides squirm. Was it shame or something else that he felt? It didn’t matter. He’d already parted his lips. He chewed, swallowed, and tried not to think about it. As Emil had said, the berries were bland. A hint of sweetness yet to come. What kind of berry ripened so late in the fall? Or was it fall here? Kit didn’t know.

  Emil’s hand returned mechanically, offering him more as he finished a bite. Every time those fingertips brushed his lips, Kit’s urge to swallow more than just the berries got a little stronger. He wanted to lean forward and take two of Emil’s long, thick fingers into his mouth.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, a mortified voice was screeching about how inappropriate that was. Just to get some quiet, Kit reached out and grabbed a handful of berries from Emil’s t-shirt. Kit could feed himself. Then the temptation would go away.

  Except it didn’t. As he ate, his trembling subsided. It grew easier to guide his hand to and from his mouth. The berries diminished the hollow in his stomach, but he still felt hungry. Emil was right there, watching. He never looked away. In Kit’s vision, all the colors were too bright and all the edges blurred. Only Emil was in focus. That was fine. He was the only thing Kit wanted to look at—those brown eyes with a hint of amber, that strong jaw with its dusting of dark stubble. If he was this beautiful with a black eye and stitches tracking through his right eyebrow, how would anyone bear the sight of him when he was healed?

  Eventually the berries were gone and Emil let his t-shirt drop back down over his stomach. Neither of them had said anything for long moments. Kit was no longer sure if time was passing. Was this a dream? He reached out and touched Emil’s face to make sure it was real.

  There was smooth, warm skin under his fingertips. Kit traced the shape of Emil’s cheekbone and his eyebrow, careful to stay away from the bruised side of his face.

  Emil blinked, smiled a little, and said, “Kit—”

  He didn’t finish the sentence, or maybe Kit’s name had been all he intended to say. Distantly, Kit knew it was a funny thing to do to someone you’d just met, touching their face, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Or he didn’t want to stop. Did Emil want him to stop? He hadn’t said so. He’d only said Kit’s name.

  Kit’s fingers trailed down the angled ridge of Emil’s nose and then over the bow of his lips. He pressed the pad of his thumb into Emil’s bottom lip, just to feel that softness and watch his mouth open so pliantly.

  How stupid, to do this with his hand when he could do it with his tongue instead. Kit clambered up until he could settle his ass on Emil’s thighs, then took hold of his face and kissed him. Just as he had before, when it had been Kit’s hand, Emil opened his mouth willingly. Kit angled his head and slid his tongue deep. Emil made the most beautiful, desperate, throaty little sound. Everything felt suspended and dreamlike except for the heat of Emil’s mouth against his—that was real, and forceful, and overwhelming.

  Emil brought his arms up and clasped them around Kit, crushing their bodies together. One of Emil’s big hands splayed across his back and the other laced its way into Kit’s hair, cupping his head and pushing him into another kiss. Kit sighed with pleasure and writhed against him. His stupid skinny jeans felt even more constricting that normal. He was already achingly hard. It was easy to rock his hips and rub up against Emil’s body, where he found an answering hardness. God bless sweatpants. Kit slid one hand out of Emil’s hair and stroked it down his side, waiting for the electric moment of contact when he lifted the hem of Emil’s t-shirt and his hand met bare skin. Fuck, but that feeling made his whole brain light up. There ought to be a neon trail left behind where his fingers had swiped over Emil’s stomach and found their way just beneath his waistband—

  “Kit.” A breath. “Kit. Stop.”

  Emil’s hands were on his shoulders now, pushing him back just a little. Kit’s whole body was throbbing.

  “Why the fuck would we stop?”

  “Kit. I don’t think you’re in your right mind. I made some kind of mistake and you’re—we’re feeling the effects of those berries.”

  “Who cares?” There were only inches between them. It would be so easy to duck back in and kiss Emil again.

  “I care, Kit.” Listening to Emil’s steady, commanding voice, it was impossible to tell he’d been undone with lust only thirty seconds ago. He was still hard, for fuck’s sake. Kit could see his cock straining against his sweatpants. Emil continued, “And you’ll care when you’re sober. We can’t do this. It’s unwise for a dozen different reasons—and probably unsafe. We don’t know where we are, we haven’t talked about what happened in the Nowhere, or how we’re going to get out of here.”

  Somehow Kit found his hand stroking Emil’s face again. His body had a will of its own. And so did his voice, which said, in a sultrier tone than he’d ever used in his life, “Can’t we talk about that after?”

  “No.” Emil grasped his hand firmly and removed it, then pushed their bodies all the way apart. The loss of contact stung, but it did nothing to clear Kit’s head, which was still a fog of Emil Emil Emil.

  “You don’t know me. How do you know I’m not in my right mind?”

  “That’s the problem, Kit. We don’t know each other.”

  “People who don’t know each other can fuck each other. It happens all the time in club bathrooms.” Kit didn’t know that from experience, but the truth would work against him right now. If Emil believed Kit was a person who fucked strangers, maybe he’d relent and let them finish. Kit didn’t even care about this interlude ruining things. His body was still decidedly in the right mood. All he wanted was to touch Emil again.

  “Not to me,” Emil said, decisive. Fuck, but even that rejection was kind of hot. If Kit couldn’t touch Emil, he could touch himself while Emil spoke to him in that voice. His hand was halfway down his underwear when Emil said, “I’m gonna take a walk for a little while. Do what you need to do.”

  And just like when he’d woken up to Emil asking his name, it didn’t even occur to Kit to disobey.

  4

  Don't Throw Me Away

  Emil walked to the other side of the outcropping to give Kit some privacy. He clenched his jaw in an effort not to imagine what was happening—and not to regret his decision to stop things. He’d made the right choice. It was shameful he’d let things get that far in the first place. He might not have been totally sober himself, but he was a damn sight better off than that poor kid. Kit must have weighed about a buck thirty and he’d been shaking with hunger when Emil started feeding him some kind of intoxicant.

  Jesus.

  He paced another few steps, trying to push away the memory of how perfectly Kit had fit into his lap, or the sound he’d made when Emil had pulled him close.

  He could take care of himself out here—it would only take a second—but he preferred to grit his teeth and will his arousal away. He was a dirty old man, taking advantage of Kit while he was high and then thinking about getting off on the memory. It was his job to watch out for people Kit’s age—even if Kit wasn’t a member of his team.

  It would probably be a couple of hours befo
re Kit was clear-headed enough to take them back to the Nowhere, but maybe they’d be able to talk before then. Kit just needed a little time to come down—and Emil couldn’t go back over there until he was sure Kit wouldn’t try to persuade him to pick up where they’d left off. He had a lot of self-control, but that was a test even he was bound to fail.

  No, he’d wait over here within earshot. Close enough to protect Kit if he heard anything coming, but far enough to protect Kit from both of their regrettable urges. And when he did walk back over there, Emil would apologize again. He’d reassure Kit that there was nothing to be embarrassed about, while simultaneously not giving away how ashamed he was of his own behavior. What had he been thinking? Why hadn’t he realized what was happening sooner? He was a little high—as different as it was from any of his previous experiences, he recognized the signs—but that was no excuse. He was supposed to be better than this. He’d promised.

  He’d have to overcome his own reaction as fast as possible. They had to work together to get out of here. Emil could make that happen. He could speak the right words, strike the right note, get Kit to cooperate for as long as it took to get them both out. It was his job, after all.

  He had to get back to the facility for his team. It meant walking—or jumping—right back into danger, but he couldn’t leave them there. He had no idea what had happened in his absence and he didn’t trust Quint Services to do right by any of them.

  Emil let half an hour pass. He didn’t hear anything from the other side of the rock, so he walked back around and found Kit curled up on his side on the ground, asleep. His purple hair was a wild mess—Emil blushed to think whose fault that was—and Emil had to suppress an urge to lean down and smooth it.

  There was no evidence of what they’d done here earlier, but somehow Emil could feel it in the air. He shoved the thoughts aside. He had to focus. “Kit.”

  Kit stirred, blinking awake and then pushing himself upright. When he saw Emil, he pushed himself back farther.

  “I want to apologize for what happened earlier,” Emil began. “I take full responsibility. I shouldn’t have let it happen. I don’t want you to feel at fault for anything. Please don’t be embarrassed, either. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Still, we have to work together to get out of here, so I think we should put it aside for the moment and concentrate on the task at hand.”

  Kit rubbed sleep out of one eye. “It’s just a high, not the end of the world. Calm down. Not like I’ve never done drugs before.”

  Emil’s team wouldn’t have responded to his tone that way, and it took him aback for a second. “I am calm,” he said. “And I am treating everything as seriously as it should be treated.”

  “Oh, so you’ve never done drugs before,” Kit said. “Got it.”

  That wasn’t true, but it wasn’t relevant, either. Emil cleared his throat. “As you know, we need to get to the Quint Services facility where we were headed.”

  “Wait, you still want to go back there? Aren’t you some kind of prisoner?”

  “There are people there who need me,” Emil said.

  Kit raised his brows. “Okay.”

  “Are you well enough to make the run?”

  One side of his mouth turned down. He was so small and so fine-boned, with such quick movements and changes of expression. His fox-like nickname suited him. It made Emil want to smile, but if Kit asked him why, he’d have to say because you’re cute and it wouldn’t get them anywhere good.

  Luckily, Kit was all business. “Not sure. Haven’t really had enough food or sleep to do it right, but I don’t think I’m going to get much more of either if we stay here. And it’s a long one.”

  Emil choose to ignore the delicate subject of food. “A long run, you mean?”

  “I’ve done Earth to orbit before, but lunar orbit’s farther than that. I know I can, but…”

  “You’d rather try it for the first time when you were feeling your best,” Emil guessed. He didn’t say how can you be sure if you’ve never done it before? because he couldn’t let his own doubts contaminate Kit. They both needed to believe Kit could make it. “There’s something I need to tell you, Kit. I wasn’t completely honest with you before, when I said I didn’t know where we were. I have an idea of where we are, but you were so out of it earlier, I didn’t want to make things worse by freaking you out.”

  Kit held his gaze for a second. “You don’t have to protect me.”

  I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to, Emil didn’t say. He also didn’t say you already know that I do. Instead he agreed, “Of course not,” with an ease he didn’t feel. “It’s more that I’m a little freaked out, that’s all. You see, I’m a botanist.”

  This made absolutely no impression on Kit.

  “Well, really, I specialized in designing greenhouses for facilities in space, and that was after my time in the Orbit—” Emil was rambling. “Anyway, I know a lot about plants.”

  “Don’t care.”

  So maybe Kit was feeling a little bit surly. Understandable. Emil could deal with that. “I’ve spent years acquiring a broad base of knowledge of Earth plants. I have a passing familiarity with a variety of ecosystems spanning every continent.” Emil pretended not to see the bored expression on Kit’s face. He took a breath. “And I don’t see anything here that I recognize.”

  “So it’s not Earth,” Kit said, his tone far flatter than it should have been for such a revelation.

  “Exactly,” Emil said. “But we’re breathing. And—as we know—there’s life here.”

  At last, Kit’s face lit up. “Holy fuck,” he said, breathless.

  Emil couldn’t tell if he meant that in a good way or a bad way. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, either. “So, yes. If we ever make it back to Earth alive, we can confirm the existence of extraterrestrial life.”

  “So where are we, then? Which planet? It can’t be…” Kit paused, and Emil could tell he was going through all the planets in the solar system in his head. Emil had done the same when he’d first had this realization—he’d gone through all the potentially habitable moons and all the exoplanets he knew about, too.

  “That’s where my knowledge fails me,” Emil admitted. He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about Dr. Lange’s research, even though he barely knew enough to explain it. But this might be life or death. “But there is—there was this scientist on the base. He studied the Nowhere. He believed it was a sort of… membrane between realities. That’s why you can get to it from anywhere on Earth, or even in space. It’s everywhere. It’s what holds our universe together. He believed that we hadn’t confirmed this hypothesis yet because most runners didn’t know they could travel any further. Or possibly because most were only strong or skilled enough dip in and out to get around our world. He thought some day, deliberately or accidentally, a runner would break through.”

  Actually, Dr. Lange had been convinced that some runners already had. He’d once theorized that runners had originated somewhere outside of known reality. Their inborn ease in the Nowhere didn’t result from a rare mutation in the human genome—strictly speaking, they didn’t have human genes.

  Emil kept those thoughts to himself. Kit might not want his protection, but the kid was already having a rough day. “So maybe the reason we don’t recognize anything about this planet is because it doesn’t exist in our universe,” he concluded.

  “Well,” Kit said. “In that case, it’s a longer jump than I thought.”

  It was impossible not to smile at that cocky smirk. Unfortunately, Kit’s expression faltered a moment later.

  “But I don’t know what we’ll do if that thing comes back,” he said.

  “We’ll figure it out,” Emil said. He had no idea how, but he needed to believe it. “And maybe it won’t.”

  “We don’t have a way to sedate you,” Kit said. He got to his feet and brushed sand and dirt from the legs of his jeans. Emil recognized the deliberate movements of someone who wasn’t fine, but who
was working very hard to appear that way. “So don’t throw up on me, okay?”

  “You sure you’re ready? You can rest a little longer—”

  “There’s no food here,” Kit said, holding his hand out impatiently.

  Emil took it, but stood up without putting any of his weight on Kit. He’d been in the Nowhere before without being sedated and he’d hated it. And that had been with Beck, who he’d known and worked with for years before they’d tried it, and who was huge and gave crushing bear hugs to his friends all the time. Emil trusted Beck. He’d never worried for an instant that Beck couldn’t hang on. Hanging on was what Lennox Beck did best in life.

  Kit, on the other hand, was willowy. And he had plenty of reasons not to want to touch Emil.

  So it startled Emil when Kit clamped both arms around his chest in a fierce grip. The top of his head came up to Emil’s chin. He tilted his head back, met Emil’s gaze, and said, “Hang the fuck on.”

  Emil brought his arms up, and before he’d even wrapped them around Kit’s back, darkness enveloped them. It felt like someone had slid a hook behind Emil’s navel and yanked him sideways, except he hadn’t moved—he could feel the vise of Kit’s arms just where they had been. There was no light and nothing to see but Emil closed his eyes anyway, as if that would make this less disorienting. The darkness of the Nowhere felt thick somehow, not just an absence of light and air but the presence of something heavy and alive brushing against his skin. It was every prickly contradiction of sensation at once, wet and dry, hot and cold, rough and smooth, and it made him feel like his brain was folding in on itself.

  He and Kit held still within that darkness, but Emil felt like someone had strapped him in upside-down and launched him into the fastest, loopiest rollercoaster ride of his life. There was pressure bearing down on him from all sides. Everything was wrong. He couldn’t—shouldn’t be here, where there was no space for him. He was suffocating, hurtling through the Nowhere faster than he could comprehend and dying by slow, miserable increments. Please let me pass out, he begged, not sure if he was addressing his own body or the void itself.