Anne Winchell - The Last War

Nalia twirled the bracelet around her wrist as she entered the room where Raven was staying. He was alone and his eyes looked red; she knew he would never let anyone see him crying. Her mind was still whirling with her conversation with Lethe, and with Medane. Both of them thought of her as a leader, and they expected her to do something to stop the violence. But she was still so young, barely a child. She wasn’t ready for this. She still depended on her father for so much, and her father—

She shook her head sharply to keep from thinking of her father. There was a chance the slums hadn’t been hit as hard as the main city. There was a chance her father had survived, and her friends. Not much of a chance, but it was all she had to hold on to. That, and Raven.

He reached a hand out to her and she took it without a word. Her own eyes were red with crying, she knew, and Raven cradled her in his arms without speaking. The feel of him against her body sent her pulse racing and she cursed her baser impulses. How could she be thinking about him like this when the whole world was falling apart? But she was intimately aware of his breath upon her cheek, his hands stroking her back, his steady breathing and firm heartbeat. She was aware of him in a way she had never been of anyone else. She looked up at him and saw a strange expression on his face, as if he were torn between sadness and desire just like her. She closed her eyes and tilted her face towards his, pursing her lips and pressing against him.

He laid his lips upon hers and she marveled at how smooth his lips were. She had never kissed anyone that she cared about like this before. At first all she felt was the physical sensation—not unpleasant, and what she was expecting. Then his hand slid across her back and he pulled her tight, kissing her in earnest as ripples of pleasure extended outward from the kiss. It was just like she had dreamed kissing him would be like, only under very different circumstances.

She tried to ignore that last thought, but it was too late. The thought of her father lying dead somewhere, rotting and unburied, swarmed through her mind and she pulled out of the kiss with a sob. Raven kept her close and kissed her neck.

“I know,” he whispered. “We’ll find a way to honor them. We won’t ever forget them. Their sacrifice will not be in vain.”

She held him tightly and let the tears come, needing him desperately in this moment of weakness. Had he felt the same after the Graveyard Massacre? Had he spent his life trying to honor and remember the victims? And how could they possibly honor an entire city of millions of people? It was too big a task for her, too big for anyone. Medane thought she could help; he wanted her to return to NeoLondon to find survivors and revitalize the rebellion, only he wanted her to persuade the rebellion to join forces with the government against the Western threat. He seemed to think that she had the power to change all of their minds. But she was so young. Sure, she was a díamont, but she had only made her grand entrance weeks ago and very few people outside of NeoLondon knew who she really was.

Nalia wanted to stay with Raven. Raven couldn’t leave the embassy, and more than anything she wanted to stay. But Medane needed her help and she knew, deep down, that she could do it. It terrified her to take over where her father left off, but she knew it was her destiny to lead the rebellion no matter what happened and she would make sure that the rebellion stayed intact even after the devastation of NeoLondon. She would make sure that the rebellion stayed loyal to Raven after Raven became the new president, even if it meant that the rebellion had to make concessions to the government. She had always thought of the rebellion as something clear cut—either you were with the rebellion or you were corrupt—but now she was beginning to see that there were good people in the government, good people who had just been massacred partly because of her actions.

Raven rocked her gently and kept kissing her head, her neck, and finally her lips again. She let him, and when they kissed a second time the memories of her father faded and she tried to focus on the present, not the past or the future. She didn’t know for sure when she would see Raven again if she went with Medane. This might be their last few hours together, and she wanted to make them last forever.

“Are you going with Medane?” he asked.

“I think so.”

“You should. You can do a lot of good talking to your people. They need a leader.”

“That’s what Medane said.”

Raven smiled, and cupped her cheek in his hand. She managed a smile as well.

“If I go—you’ll be here when I get back? You’ll stay safe?”

“No one’s letting me leave,” Raven said with a bite of anger in his voice. “I don’t have a choice.”

“But promise me you’ll stay safe.”

A haunted look crossed Raven’s face. “I broke a promise today,” he whispered. “I promised Lydia I would see her, and now we don’t even know if she’s alive.”

Nalia stroked his face and kissed him. “I just don’t want to lose you, too,” she said. “I don’t think I could survive.”

They kissed again, and soon all of her thoughts vanished except for thoughts of him beside her. Raven pushed her backwards on the bed until they were lying beside each other. A flush of heat went through Nalia’s body as Raven began pulling off her shirt. Was he going to do what she thought he was doing? She wanted it, certainly, but she felt extremely inexperienced. She hesitantly helped him pull off her shirt, then his, and they lay together as he stroked her body and the only thing she could think of was him, right next to her, and how much she wanted him.

He caressed her body while they kissed, and his hand tangled in her jeans as he undid the button. She flinched in anticipation but he must have misinterpreted the movement because he stopped.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Keep going.”

She normally had little shame about her body, but she was shy about showing herself and she was grateful that he was still kissing her and not looking at her. She reached over and turned off the light, giving herself a little more privacy. Then she realized that she couldn’t see his body, and she very much wanted to. Instead of turning the light back on, though, she began exploring him with her hands.

Raven’s body was mostly smooth and strong, with hard muscle and almost no fat, but he had several scars across his back and arms. She knew his leg was still bandaged from the gunshot wound and made a mental note to go slowly when she removed his pants. She wanted to ask about the scars, but her body was on fire and this was not the time for talking. She wanted action. Her fingers stumbled over the buttons on his pants and he had to help her as he undressed. Although she was curious about what he looked like, she still didn’t turn the light on because she didn’t want him looking at her too closely.

They kissed again, and then Raven straddled her. He kissed her and the world turned to pleasure. With her arms wrapped around his neck, she barely felt him enter her, but she did feel when he began to move. They writhed together in a sinuous rhythm, until Nalia began to moan and Raven groaned over her. Everything turned to bliss and he relaxed against her, cradling her in his arms.

Nalia felt spent and exhausted, but it was as if some sort of valve had been released and her emotions had finally been drained. Her fear and panic were gone, for the moment, and all she felt was happiness and love. She drew Raven close to her and breathed in the musky scent of him for a long time.

They would have stayed like that for longer except for a knock at the door, and Medane’s voice informing them that Nalia needed to be prepared to leave in ten minutes. She reluctantly sat up and again the only thing she wanted was to stay with Raven. But she had responsibilities, and she now knew that Raven would be here waiting for her. There was no room for mystery or miscalculation in their relationship anymore: he loved her and she loved him. They would end up together, she knew it.