It seemed to be working, and all of them appeared to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. So was he, for that matter. He hadn’t expected to, not when the culmination of so many hopes, of so many years of planning and working on this project, was this close, when twenty years’ of struggle, of successes and failures were all coming to a conclusion.
One that could go so terribly wrong. All that effort, that time, money, and literal sweat and tears coming down to the next few days—to contacting Zianne and her people.
Yes, he’d told them six months, and he expected them to remain at the site, taking that time to help acclimate the Nyrians to this new world once they were rescued, but he’d know in a matter of days whether or not their effort would succeed.
Would they be able to project enough sexual energy to bring the Nyrians to Earth? To free them from slavery and give them the corporeal bodies they’d need to survive on this world?
Zianne had explained how she’d traveled through time when she visited him in 1992. She’d given him enough information to go on that he had a fairly good idea what the corresponding date for her time had been that last morning she’d left his bed.
Even though the two of them had prepared for such a horrible event, he’d never dreamed she wouldn’t return. It had taken days of watching for her before he fully accepted the fact that she wasn’t coming back. But he’d feared it could happen, and weeks before Zianne disappeared, he’d already put a plan into action.
He’d put a down payment on a large tract of land in the isolated, high desert country of northeastern California, in an area where he knew he could build the transmitters and antennae he’d need to contact the Nyrians and bring them to Earth. Then he had worked on the programs, pushed the industry to improve the technology by leaps and bounds. All of it on a very precise schedule, readying himself for this moment in time.
The only moment they might have to save Zianne and her people. They were cutting it close, but he’d timed it this way on purpose—and if his calculations were right, Zianne should be arriving at her ship within the next twenty-four hours or so after leaving his bed in 1992.
He had no idea what had happened to her, but somehow the Gar had found out she’d been leaving. He didn’t think they would kill her—from what she’d told him, there were too few Nyrians left to power their ship to put any to death. He had to believe she was still alive, that she would remain alive.
As connected as they’d been, wouldn’t he know if she ceased to exist? If he was too late, if this didn’t work ... no. He couldn’t allow himself to think of failure. How could any man survive, knowing he’d doomed an entire race of people to slavery and death? Knowing he might be responsible for his own world’s end, if the Gar were truly as powerful as Zianne believed.
He wanted to feel excited about finally putting all his plans into action. Wanted to feel more hopeful than he did, but instead he was aware of an almost smothering sense of dread when he allowed himself to think of how slim his chances were of finally pulling this off.
He’d explained his fears to Dink, how he almost felt as if it was better to be working toward the ultimate goal he’d carried for the past twenty years than to actually put it into action—and discover he’d failed.
Dink had set him straight.
Failure isn’t an option. It’s not just Zianne we’re talking about—it’s the potential damage the Gar can do to our world. We’re talking Earth’s future. This isn’t just about the woman you love. You’ve always seen the whole picture. See it here, Mac.
He’d paused then, wiped his hand over his eyes as if the concept of failure was too much to consider.
Then he’d grinned at Mac, shaking his head.
Hell, Mac. For you, failure isn’t even a possibility. Don’t worry about it, don’t consider it. You won’t fail. You’re too damned much of a perfectionist to fail.
Then he’d kissed him soundly and added,
not to mention, stubborn as a mule and just as hardheaded.
Thank God for Dink. His impassioned words still resonated with Mac this morning. Last night, Dink had helped settle his nerves in more ways than he’d imagined, but unloading the whole convoluted tale had done even more. Sharing the story of the Nyrians with Dink, seeing his unwavering acceptance, his support for all of Mac’s plans, had made a huge difference.
Dink was right. He couldn’t allow himself to consider failure. Not with the lure of Zianne’s love, the safety of her people, the proof he’d not been tilting at windmills for all these years with his plans so close now to fruition. So close and so dependent upon this group of brilliant young minds, currently uniting in a goal they truly didn’t understand.
“Mac?”
He glanced up from his sandwich. Kiera smiled expectantly at him. “Yeah?”
“When do we start our shifts? You said we’d be working around the clock. Will we start tonight?”
He shrugged, but inside he was singing. “If you’re not too tired from the trip. If you think you’re ready. Each of you will want to get settled into your individual cabins when we arrive, but you’re more than welcome to work out a schedule that feels most comfortable. I know some of you are night owls, others better in the morning.” He shrugged. “The length of your shifts, the timing ... it’s all up to you.”
“Any suggestions?”
Cameron had been so quiet all through the ride, Mac was glad to see him at least contributing something. “Probably that you not plan on working too long a shift. If you’ve never done anything that’s kept you in one spot for a long time focusing all your concentration on one thing in particular, I can tell you it’s more exhausting than you might think.”
Cam rolled his eyes. “Mac? I’m a painter, remember?” He laughed. “Concentrating on one thing in particular for a long time is how I make my living.” He shot a quick glance at the others. “If we figure on four-hour shifts, the six of us can cover the entire twenty-four. Is four hours too long?”
“I’d say we give it a try, see how that works,” Morgan said.
He glanced at Mac. Checking to be sure he hadn’t overstepped? Yep. The man learned fast. Feeling more satisfied than he should, Mac nodded. “That makes sense. Midnight to four, four to eight, and on through the day. Pick times that work best for you.”
“I want midnight to four.” Cam grinned almost shyly at Mac. The kid was a hard one to figure out. “That’s when I’m most creative in my painting,” he said. “Probably when my fantasies are most vivid.”
“I’ll take four in the morning to eight.” Finn was carefully folding up the paper over the crumbs of his sandwich.
Mac cocked an eyebrow in Finn’s direction. “Why would you purposefully choose that one? That’s a tough time frame for most people to stay awake unless you’re an absolute night owl.”
Finn leaned back in his chair and tossed his bag of garbage at the trash can by the door. The tightly compacted wad of paper and plastic sailed neatly through the slot. “Because I imagine the women will be sleeping then. I hate the idea of working when I could be doing something more productive.”
“Give it a break, Finn.” Rodie stood to clear the rest of the bags off the table and carried them to the trash. “We’ve all had advance warning. You haven’t got a prayer of getting laid.”
“I dunno.” Lizzie winked at Rodie. “I think he’s kinda cute, in a desperate sorta way, and six months is a long time to do without.”
“Lizzie, he’s all yours.” Kiera stood and brushed crumbs off her sweatshirt. “Back in a minute. Put me down for twelve to four during the day. I am most definitely not a morning person.” She leaned over and kissed Finn on top of the head. “Behave, scoundrel,” she said, heading for the restroom.
“I’d like the morning shift, from eight to twelve.” Lizzie patted Finn’s knee. Then she leaned close and planted a big kiss on his lips.
His eyes went wide, but he didn’t hesitate to kiss her back. Lizzie grinned at him and quickly pushed away from the table. “We can pass like ships in the night,” she said. “And no, don’t even dream about getting lucky.”
Morgan snorted. “I’ll take either four to eight or eight to midnight. Rodie? Which would you prefer?” He glanced her way.
Rodie shrugged. “I’m a night owl. Eight to midnight works for me. I want to see the stars while I’m talking to them.”
“I hadn’t thought about that, but yeah. I like the idea of knowing who I’m talking to.” Morgan glanced at Mac. “Or projecting. Sending ... whatever.”
“All of the above.” Mac pushed his chair back and stood. “If you want to refill your soft drinks or you need a restroom stop, do it now. We’ve still got four or five hours to go, and not too many towns in between. I’ve got a crew at the site who’ll have dinner for us when we arrive.” He tossed his soft drink cup in the trash. “I’ll be out in the car.”
His cell phone rang as he headed out the door. He checked the screen, took the call. Listened to the head of security at the site for a moment before giving him an estimated time of arrival.
Then he ended the call and stared at the screen. “Crap.” It appeared things were already going to shit.
4
L
izzie curled up against the window with Finn next to her and Kiera on the opposite side. For the past half hour or so, she and Kiera had tried communicating without words. Already they were forging the barest of telepathic links. It wasn’t easy, but it was working.
Mac hadn’t been kidding.
For some reason, though, when she tried to see Finn’s thoughts, she came up against nothing but a wall of sensation. It took her a while to figure out what was going on, but she finally realized the guy was immersed in sexual fantasies. Vivid, kinky, over-the-top fantasies, and both she and Kiera were right in the midst of all of them.
He was simple enough to block. She’d discovered that if she thought of a one-way mirror that would allow her images through but keep his away, it worked.
That was all it took—if she pictured something, it was so.
Now, if she could link with Kiera, if the two of them, together were to ... oh, my. Inspired, aware of a new sense of focus even as she bit back an incipient case of giggles, Lizzie tried to reach Kiera once again. An idea was forming, one that could certainly make the long drive go by faster.
Suddenly, Kiera’s dark eyes went wide.
Lizzie?
Amazing! It was almost as if a window had opened between them.
Yes! You can understand me?
I can. This is the clearest you’ve been.
I’ve got an idea.
She sent her thoughts to Kiera, wondering if they might be too abstract for the other girl to understand, but Kiera’s devilish grin was all the confirmation she needed.
Finn was leaning back against the seat, his lips curved in a mysterious smile, eyes shut, and a huge bulge at the crotch of his jeans. Dozing—not really sleeping, but not wide awake, either—and obviously enjoying his fantasies.
It was time to take this to the next level. He’d started out as a tease, but then, after their lunch break, he’d gotten a little more touchy-feely than either Lizzie or Kiera appreciated. Maybe it was the long trip, or boredom, or just his natural impulsiveness, but since lunch Finn had gone from cute to merely irritating to acting like a horny teen without any controls or concept of limits.
They’d responded by giving him the silent treatment until he’d retreated. Now that Lizzie knew he’d merely slipped into his own little fantasy world—one starring both her and Kiera—she figured it was time to set some boundaries for the dude.
Lizzie and Kiera had talked a bit during one of their stops along the way—if they didn’t put the brakes on Finn now, he could be an absolute pain in the butt once they reached the site. Cute only carried creepy behavior just so far.
Lizzie opened her thoughts fully to Kiera. Next she relaxed and let her eyelids drop so she’d look as if she were asleep.
Then she sent her thoughts to Finn.
Setting her imagination free, she broadcast a vivid image of Finn standing in a forest glen, naked, arms bound and stretched over his head, feet spread wide, his ankles shackled to stakes buried in the dirt. At first she pictured a blindfold covering his eyes, but after she thought about it a moment, Lizzie decided she wanted him to see what she was doing.
She projected an image of herself, standing in front of him.
Then she slowly removed his blindfold and posed for him.
Clothed at first, wearing the same things she had on now. Slowly, methodically, she disrobed. It took only a few moments until she was naked, except this was, after all, fantasy, so she made her breasts a little larger, her nipples darker. She added a few glistening drops of moisture around her fully shorn pubes and made certain he could see her swollen labia and the pink shimmer of her distended clit.
And damn, but this was fun, especially when she noticed a hitch in Finn’s no-longer-steady breathing beside her. Was he aware this was not entirely his own fantasy?
She knew immediately when Kiera joined in—her visual slipped easily into the fantasy, all tall, lean, and dark next to Lizzie’s short, fair self. She flashed a smile at Lizzie and received one in return as the two women smoothly meshed their fantasies to create a single projection. Finn’s fantasy eyes opened and he watched them both, and Lizzie knew that, for now anyway, he still wasn’t sure if this was his fantasy or theirs.
Kiera imagined walking closer to Finn and running her hands along his sides. Then she knelt in front of him and cupped his balls in her palms.
The real man in the seat beside her groaned softly.
Grinning, Lizzie imagined herself behind him. She pressed her flat belly against his taut butt cheeks, ran her hands down his lean hips. He jerked—both against his bonds and beside her in the backseat—but it was Lizzie and Kiera’s fantasy, and he was bound tight and couldn’t move far.
Would that restrain Finn’s imaginings? Or was he strong enough to break free of their fantasy and make it his own? Did he even realize he was no longer in control? Lizzie pressed closer.
Here, in the backseat of the SUV, she felt his body tense and jerk against her side. When Kiera fantasized wrapping her lips around his engorged cock, the real Finn moaned again.