Obsidian Flame (33 page)

“Thorne, I’m going to come again.”

He held her ass tight and thrust in and out of her, a real trick in flight. She was so wet; the glide was like heaven. He had never done this before, never taken flight while making love. The sensation was unnerving and thrilling. Her blood had strengthened his body so much that he felt himself readying again.

His body trembled with so much adrenaline. They’d reached the upper limbs of some of the courtyard trees. “Pop into parachute-mount. I’ll do the same.”

She nodded and reshaped her wings, as did he, so that just at roofline level and in the canopy of several of the broad-leafed courtyard trees, he held her gaze and once more began to pump.

*   *   *

Marguerite didn’t know it could be like this. She kept one arm hooked around his neck so that she could use her free hand and slide her fingers through his hair. She kissed him lightly and when pleasure began to build, she kept that tender pressure on his lips.

You’re close again,
she sent.

Yes. And you’re so tight.

Take me, Thorne.

He groaned once more and while suspended in the air and using his wings to create a reactive pressure in order to hold them both steady, he used all his warrior strength and drove into her with tremendous force so that she orgasmed hard, her lips pressed to his.

She was breathing in fits and starts and her legs trembled. She really wasn’t used to so much exertion and some of her muscles were screaming, especially her butt muscles and arms.

“I need to retract my wings,” she said. By now, even her arms shook.

He smiled and said, “Bring your wings into close-mount and I’ll get us down from here.”

She looked down at the courtyard. The view was beautiful, especially through the leaves of the upper canopies of the various trees.

She pulled her wings in and within three seconds, like a fast, smooth elevator ride, he stood flat-footed on the pavers. Her legs were still locked around him as he kissed her, only now he supported her fully with both hands so that her muscles calmed down.

She felt so warm and fuzzy, unusual sensations for her. She could almost get used to this.

“I don’t want to let you go.”

She kissed him again, then buried her head into his shoulder and just held him. She let the tips of her fingers graze the feathers that were now in close-mount, the wings pressed up against his body. They were a light gray color, and honestly looked really great against her black-and-red wings. But she recalled her vision of him with silvery white wings and she wondered where all this was headed. What was happening to them both that she would have such a vision, that she would now be in this community of Seers, and that she’d actually achieved pure vision?

“I’m going to bring my wings in,” he said right against her ear. She nodded into his shoulder and watched as he spread his wings straight out to the sides in the full-mount position. She felt his body vibrate and shudder as the structure narrowed to incredibly fine points and flew back into his body.

This was one of the great mysteries of Second Earth and of flight: that an ascended body could create and release such magnificence at will.

But her body was now trembling with fatigue. Without saying anything, Thorne drew back, pulling out of her. She eased down his body until her bare feet were on the rough pavers.

When she slid her arms from around his neck, he said, “Now let’s get you to bed.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, it has.”

She sighed and before she knew what he meant to do, he scooped her up and carried her in the direction of their white bedroom. There were times when having a warrior for a boyfriend was just plain awesome.

*   *   *

The following dawn, Thorne had his warrior phone to his ear, his arm around Marguerite and he was still in bed. God, a man could get used to this.

She was naked, a small warm body pressed up next to his. She faced him, her fingers sifting through the hair between his pecs. She kept sighing and each time she did, he smiled because he could feel her contentment.

He’d never had this kind of time with her at the Convent—half an hour at the most.

Luken came on the line. “Hey, boss. If I make slurping noises, Havily just showed up with her usual Starbucks run.” Havily tried to do this every dawn for the warriors, when they finished their nightly battling at the Borderlands. She’d meet them at the Cave and bring sustenance. Suddenly, Havily’s voice was just there, “We miss you, Thorne. When you coming home?”

Again he smiled. They were a solid group and when the pieces were missing, any of them, well, days felt like years. “Tell Hav we’re headed back sometime today.”

Luken shared the information and Havily squealed. “Is this true, boss?”

“Yep. Time to come home.”

“Good. And Gideon’s here. Duncan as well.”

“The Militia Warrior Section Leaders?”

“Yep, Jean-Pierre thinks it would be good to include them since they have their squads battling now more and more.”

Thorne drew a deep breath. He didn’t want to ask the question, but he had to. “We lose any Militia Warriors last night?”

“Nope.”

“Good.” The sudden tightness in his chest eased.

“Yeah, Jean-Pierre’s doing some hot-shit stuff with the Thunder God Warriors. You should see it. He’s been able to bring more of their powers online and he does some kind of sensory download so that the warriors are doing better. A lot better.”

He knew Jean-Pierre had ramped up his game. Ever since he’d completed the
breh-hedden
with Fiona, his ability to guide some of the more powerful Militia Warriors into greater powers had really expanded. This seemed to be true of the
breh-hedden
process: Once it was completed, both partners were stronger in power and capacity.

He hugged Marguerite and she responded by rolling her body against his, a kind of full-body hug.

Where the hell was all this going?

But he was missing the front-line action, so yeah, time to head back. “Sorry I was gone so long,” he said.

“I got a good look at you last night. Your eyes look better. I think you needed this time away. But come home. I’m about ready to kill two of your warriors, if you get my drift.”

“I do. Either Carla or Endelle will be in touch to let you know what’s doin’.”

“Got it.”

“Get some rest.”

He debated the next phone call. He released a sigh. He should just call Endelle, tell her what was doing, but dammit, he couldn’t. He had a feeling the moment she got him on the line she’d give vent to her rage—that he’d taken off, that he’d blocked her mind-link, that he’d been incommunicado for three weeks—and the truth was, he didn’t trust himself. If she so much as sniped at him about a hangnail, he had a feeling he would let loose with a thunderbolt of lightning.

He understood then that he was angry in a way he still didn’t get.

With that knowledge, instead of opening up the mind-link to Endelle, or even using his interdimensional phone and giving her a shout, he did the only thing that made sense.

He called Carla. She was one of two women that he and the Warriors of the Blood generally dealt with at Central. There were others, but for the most part Carla and Jeannie were it. Carla had the day shift.

He thumbed his warrior phone and Carla came on the line. Because he wasn’t exactly in the mood for small talk, and because Carla had the ability to sense his temper, she received without a single comment his instructions to call Endelle, to inform her of the hidden colony, and to have her fold to Diallo’s home for a meeting at ten o’clock.

“Got it,” Carla said. “Later.”

He released a breath. He loved the women at Central for being able to read him.

He thumbed his phone then folded it back to his nightstand in his Sedona Two house. Unless he was battling for the night, Sedona was the only place he kept it. In the past he’d sent way too many of these specialized phones to Murphy’s Laundry on Central. Soap, water, and electronics just didn’t mix.

He leaned his head back down on the pillow wondering what the hell to do about the scorpion queen. For one of the few times in his life, he really was at a loss.

*   *   *

Marguerite sighed again. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t know what to think about all that was going on and it was really bugging her. Did she love this, lying in bed with Thorne, stretched out next to him? Uh, yeah.

She’d awakened to his mouth on her breast about half an hour ago, he’d brought her to a quick, roaring climax, and now she lying in his arms, her right nipple wonderfully sore, and wondering what the hell she was doing.

She wasn’t discontent, exactly. She was just antsy, like she’d been for the last few decades in the Convent. She wondered if Thorne would ever understand.

Was she prepared to leave? To let him start bonking women at the Blood and Bite? By all his descriptions of that joint it was exactly the kind of place she would have frequented, often.

But what did it say about her, what deep flaw did it reflect, that she could have this bounty in bed next to her, this absolute perfection of masculine beauty and power, and she was still wishing for the Blood and Bite and a tumble in the red velvet booths?

She finally released another sigh, pulled out of his arms, then rolled to sit up on the edge of the bed. Only her toes touched the dark wood floor, the bed being on the tall side. The room was cool, but not cold like the Convent.

She fluffed her hair and made her way to the bathroom. Diallo had provided toothbrushes so she brushed vigorously, rinsed, spit, and tried to ignore a very sudden desire to be back in her convertible. Freedom called to her, a seemingly infinite voice, and she responded with every fiber of her being.

But why did she still long to leave? And would she always feel this way?

Last night had been amazing with Thorne, in the garden, sex in flight, connected through it all and experiencing such amazing orgasms. When her wings had mounted, she’d almost spun off into the stratosphere from the intense pleasure of the experience.

She wanted to do it again.

She wanted to do it again with Thorne.

And maybe that was what bugged her so much. She’d barely started to live. She’d only been out of her own personal hellhole for three weeks and a couple of days. How could she even think about settling down?

When she rinsed for the last time and rose up, her resident god-like warrior stood in the doorway, leaning sideways into the doorjamb and looking like he was holding up the entire house. “Do you have to be so goddamn handsome? It would help a lot if you looked like a troll.”

He laughed. “What’s got your ovaries in a twist?”

She lifted a brow. “My ovaries in a twist?”

“Well, I could hardly say your nuts. Come on, spill it.”

Her shoulders dipped. “I don’t know. I should be content, but I’m not. What the hell is wrong with me?” She waved a hand to encompass him from head to foot. “I mean, look at you. Even Brynna and Jane were practically ready to bear your children when they saw you practicing sword-thrusts with Arthur.”

“They were, huh?”

“Oh, don’t get cute on me.”

“Okay. Fine.” He brushed past her and walked into the shower, a nice big shower. He completely ignored her and turned the jets on, all seven of them, plus the rain-head.

She moved so she could watch him and he put on one helluva show as he turned in a slow circle, his face into the spray, eyes closed. Fit. Ripped. Handsome. Perfect. Thorne. Her lover. Her
breh.

And oh, God, she loved him so much. This she would admit to herself. She ached for him.

Shit.

She opened the glass door and stepped inside. She pushed his soapy hands away from his chest and stepped up against him, wrapping her arms around him.

“Hey, I’m showering here.”

“Just hold me, asshole.”

“You’re such a romantic.” But he chuckled, then moved his wonderful massive arms and wrapped her up. “I take it you’re struggling with being close to me.”

“Yep.”

“No worries.”

“Nope. You are not allowed to say that. You are not allowed to be a nice guy.”

She felt him sigh but he kissed the top of her head. Wisely, he kept his trap shut.

*   *   *

Endelle sat at her desk in her executive offices at her administrative building in Metro Phoenix Two, not far from South Mountain. She stared at her laptop icons but didn’t touch the keyboard. She was just a little too upset. Okay, a lot upset. Her nostrils had been belching proverbial fire for the past three weeks and right now the air smelled of smoke.

Carla had just called and informed her that
His Majesty
was inviting her to a meeting, at ten o’clock, to a previously unknown rogue Mortal Earth colony that had apparently existed for three thousand years without detection.