Page 72 of Boxed In

“A kinder gentler warrior?”

He laughed. “Yeah. We've both learned new stuff from the other."

"But it's still . . . unsettling."

"Of course."

And this was one of those times. He longed to tell Olivia what making love to her had meant. But the silent voice of the warrior stopped him cold.

We do not need that complication.

I need it.

Later.

Will there be a later?

You know what we have to do.

He wanted to demand an answer, but the warrior wasn't giving him any guarantees. And the silent exchange told him that until the box was returned to the Temple of the Moon, he could only show Olivia what he felt by his deeds. He—Luke Garner. And also Zabastian, because he knew the warrior’s feelings ran deep, too. Even if he wouldn’t admit it,

He reached for her. Holding her—until he could no longer delay.

As she pulled on her clothing, she said, “There’s something I wanted to ask you. If the box is so important to the Moon Priests, why don’t they keep it in the temple all the time?”

“Because the sanctuary is shielded from the world and the box would lose its power if it stayed locked up inside the temple walls.”

“Inconvenient.”

“Yes. They must send it out into the world to recharge.”

“But if it gets too much energy—it explodes.”

“Something like that.”

“Why don't they fix the problem?”

“Because they cannot tamper with the delicate balance of the universe.”

“You're going around in circles.”

“That's not my fault. Neither you nor I have the ability to fully understand the power of the box.”

“We have to take it on faith?” she pressed.

“Yes.” He looked toward the outer room of the cave. “We must go back.

“How do we know it’s safe?”

“We can peek through and see.”

“Like when we came here—and we weren’t one place or the other?”

“Yes,” he answered as he picked up the box and headed for the front of the underground complex

They walked back the way they’d come, around the fire and to the front entrance. Luke pulled the pelt aside that closed the door, and they both looked out into the valley below. As they watched, the scene faded, and the office came into view.

Sitting at the desk chair was one of the men who had first come to Carl Peterbalm’s office. He was facing the door to the room, his features alert and an automatic weapon cradled in his lap.

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