“Until the ozone layer breaks. It could be years.”
She turned to whisper into John’s ear.
“You have time then. You have time to think of a way out of this.”
“That was my intention,” he whispered back. “I know I’ve made the Galactic Promise, but there is no way I’m going anywhere with him. I’ve bought time, that’s all.”
“Use it. You will set me free. I trust you.”
“You trust me?”
“I don’t know why. I must be mad. But I do.”
“Kiss me.”
Mimi put her arms around his neck, carefully and slowly, knowing that this might never happen again. She was determined to savour every scintilla of sensation, to draw him in via her fingertips, her skin, her mouth, her mind.
His swan neck, so elegant and long, was warm and firm beneath her touch. She put one hand on the back of his head, pushing fingers into the short, neat hair, feeling every tickle, every prickle on the way.
His hand burned at the small of her back and on her shoulder. His breath was hot, his lips were ready, his bristled cheek set her skin tingling and then they were connected in a kiss of enormous, fathomless depth.
This kiss had to communicate every hope, every wish, every ounce of the strength of the love between them. If it failed, they would not be able to repeat. If it failed, the plan would collapse and Rixxar One would win.
Its urgency sent floods of fire through Mimi’s belly and downward, waking up every longing nerve ending. She wanted John, she wanted sex, she wanted his love and his respect and his complicity and everything about him, even his strange alien ruthlessness. “Read my lips. Don’t let me down.”
“Read mine. Be strong. I love you.”
When they drew apart, there was a shimmer in John’s eyes Mimi had never seen before.
“I do believe you’re almost human,” she whispered.
“Don’t,” he said. “I don’t want to watch this.”
“I’m ready,” Anna announced, beaming all over her warped face.
“So am I.” Mimi schooled all the quiver from her voice and squared up to Anna. “Leave her.”
She shuddered as Anna’s tiny hand replaced John’s on her shoulder. The girl smelled like Anna—a light floral scent underlaid with creamy moisturiser—and she looked like Anna, but she was a million light-years from that girl’s gentleness. The tiny hand clawed at her, and the soft glossed lips puckered in a tight pout, then her friend’s face darted to hers, so fast she bobbed her head back, but it was too late.
The gloss smeared over Mimi’s face, the minty fresh tongue pushed aggressively through her lips. Then the feeling of kissing, the warmth
and the wetness, was replaced by a flash of freezing pain, numbing her mind and her body systematically until she retreated, oppressed and overtaken by a spirit of hard, brutal logic, all her natural reactions dulled almost to the point of disappearance.
Liam, watching, saw Anna step back. Her face was her own again, vulnerable and confused, those huge brown eyes blinking slowly.
“What happened?” she asked, but nobody answered her.
John and Mimi eyed each other like rival snakes preparing to strike. Luana, hanging on to Liam’s reluctant arm, was making a strange ululation at the back of her throat. It could be a sound of despair or triumph, but it struck Liam as the latter.
He tried to shake her off, eager to go to Anna and take her under his wing, but the older woman’s fingers were vicelike.
All he could do was call to her. “Anna!”
She shook her head, tearing her eyes from John and Mimi and peering over to him.
“Oh, Liam,” she said. “You’re here. What’s happening?”
“I wish I knew.” He held out his free arm, gathering her into it. “Are you okay? You feel okay, yeah?”