Tempest of Vengeance (42 page)

If only Danial was as easy to let go.

I still could not seem to get past the loss
of Danial, because the wound from him wasn’t just sore, it remained
freshly raw, no matter how much time passed. He could not move on
from his own loss, and to see him grieving me constantly, day after
day, and not be able to ease his pain was agony. He always treated
me with respect, but a little more of me died each time I looked
into his eyes and saw he no longer loved me, or knew me as anything
but “Lady,” Devlin’s Oathed One. Danial also knew that I was Lash’s
lover, as did everyone else by now, though we had kept the mating
part of the Oath we’d done secret from everyone, as Lash had
requested. But just knowing Devlin had a “new” Oathed One was too
much for Danial to deal with. Danial hated that I had taken his
“Sar’s” place so quickly in Devlin’s affections. I’d heard him
arguing enough nights with Devlin, accusing Devlin of “disgracing
Sarelle’s memory with your current whore.” So I tried to avoid him
as much as I could, but I still ran into him sometimes. Happily,
this afternoon, I managed to avoid him.

I checked my watch.
I have a half hour to
kill.
Too little time to sew, or do really anything. But I
could peruse a little poetry. Devlin liked that I’d sometimes quote
some to him. Maybe I could find something a little off the beaten
path. I wasn’t naive enough to think I could find something he
didn’t know, but maybe something he’d only read once or twice might
be possible, especially if it had been written in the last thirty
years or so.

I ducked into my “study” as Devlin called it.
The purple guest room held some books of Danial’s that Theoron had
been getting rid of, and books that Devlin had bought me to replace
the ones I’d lost when my house burned. Devlin had even talked
about knocking down the wall, to connect my sewing room and the
study, until I’d told him I’d had enough excitement, at least until
late spring.

I paged through one of my newer poetry
collections. Here was one: Diane Wakoski, circa 1970. The poem’s
title was “A Poet Recognizing the Echo of the Voice.” I read it for
a few lines, then decided it wasn’t fitting. It didn’t seem to be
about love. But I saw the third part, captioned “Beauty” and
underneath, a quote by Yeats. I recognized it, as Dev had quoted it
to me once, months ago, as he was watching me brush my long
hair:

“—
only God, my Dear, could love you for
yourself alone, and not for your yellow hair.”

The poet, Wakoski, had seemed to address that
poem in the third part of her poem:

“And if I cut off my long hair,

If I stopped speaking...

If I stopped crying...

And never let them see how accurate my pistol
shooting is, who would I be?

We are all the textures we wear.

We frighten men with our steel,

We fascinate them with our silk

We seduce them with our cinnamon—”

Pies?
I thought, then resumed
reading.

“We rule them with our sensuous voices,

We confuse them with our submissions

Is there anywhere a man who will not punish
us for our beauty?

He is the one we all search for,

He is the one we all anticipate.

Beauty looks for its match, confuses the
issue with a mystery that does not exist.”

I felt with shock that this poem was fitting.
Just not for Dev. As if by some design, my eyes fell on the poem
below it, titled “When You are Old.”

“How many loved your moments of glad
grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or
true;

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in
you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing
face.”

Then I looked at my watch, and put the book
aside. I had to hurry, or I was going to be late meeting Lash. And
it was suddenly very important to me not to let him wait for me, as
I had so often this week.

I made it to the kitchen at noon, to find
Lash waiting for me anyway. He was dressed in his “good” black
clothes, and I gave him an appreciative look.

“Are you ready, Sar?”

I nodded.

We went out and got into his truck, and he
started the engine. “Where to?” he said, turning to me. “What do
you feel like eating?”

“Take me to the restaurant that you took me
to, back last spring. We’ll get some sushi, to celebrate the New
Year.”

“You sure?” Lash hissed. “We may run into
some of Theoron’s people there.” I knew what he was saying: that
there was a remote possibility of seeing Theo there. And while he
might be with Terian or T, he could also be there with Jenny.

“It doesn’t matter if he’s there. I’m with
you, Lash.”

“Okay,” Lash said with a nod, and he drove us
there in silence.

When we arrived, Lash and I got a table, and
I excused myself to visit the ladies’ room.

“Order for me, please?” I said, as I got up.
“I might be a minute or two.”

“Are you okay?” Lash said, giving me a sudden
worried look. “We could go somewhere else if you want?”

“I’m fine. I want to take my hair down, and
fix it a little. It might take a minute, or five.”

“Okay,” Lash said with a shrug. “I’ll be
here.”

I returned to him ten minutes later.
“Everything okay? Did you order?”

“I ordered for us. I also got you some wine.
I thought you could use it.”

I knew he had just wanted some sake, but I
didn’t say anything. Besides, I did want some wine.

“Your hair looks nice down,” Lash added
quickly, giving me a smile.

“I’m glad you like it,” I said back, giving
him a smile back.

We talked about Venus a little over lunch. I
also brought up Serena’s infatuation for Nick

and vice versa

that was
still going strong. Even after all this time, I hesitated to call
it love, at least in front of Lash. I didn’t want him telling T,
because I didn’t know if T loved her or not, and I knew he and Lash
still sparred most every other day in the early mornings. “So
you’ve noticed them?” I asked innocently.

Lash nodded.

“Do you know if he likes her the way she
likes him?”

Lash shrugged. “Hard to say. Nick’s a good
guy, but he knows how good-looking he is. He probably enjoys his
time with Serena, but that’s as far as it goes, even with
everything that she did for him. And I know from Titus she did a
lot for him, Sar.”

I wondered what he meant by that, but let it
slide. From Serena’s comment to me more than a month previous,
Serena had done something for Nick after he’d gotten hurt—a.k.a.
skinned—that had cost her the ability to change into a coyote. If
her loss was what I imagined, I didn't want to hear Lash describe
the process. “That’s sad,” I said, to close the subject. “She
really likes him. I’d hoped they’d end up together.”

“She should tell him how she feels, if she
loves him,” Lash said, his eyes meeting mine meaningfully. “He
might be the last to know, if she hides it from him.”

Lash was reminding me, as he often did, that
he wished I’d told him I loved him when I first felt it, and not
waited months. “I’ll tell her that,” I assured amicably. “Maybe she
will.”

We finished our meal, and Lash paid the bill.
I could tell he was surprised that I didn’t offer to pay, but I
didn’t make an explanation. He’d insist on paying no matter what.
Lash might be my mate, but he was still a male chauvinist when it
came to some things.

“Want to come for a quick walk with me?” I
asked, as we neared his truck. “I still owe you one.”

“Sure,” Lash agreed. “Let me grab my extra
gun from the truck first.”

Lash stashed it in his pocket, locked the
truck, and we headed out, blinking hard in the bright sunlight. I
reached out and took his hand, clasping it in mine, and he gave me
a smile. We walked down the street, and over by the bridge near the
creek the town was named for. I let go of Lash’s hand, and he
slipped his arm around me instead, as we looked over the bridge
edge, watching the water flowing under it fast. The creek was
almost a river today, rushing from the heavy storms earlier in the
week. A lot of the snow had melted in the rain, and there was sure
to be flooding in the lower ground.
But Hayden’s on high ground.
We’ll be okay.

I took Lash’s hand, and led him down the
pathway at the end of the bridge into the nearby park. There was an
old teeter-totter near the entrance, and I walked over to it with
him. “Sit down.”

He gave me a look that said no way.

“Sit down, if you know what’s good for you,”
I said harshly. Lash gave me a funny look, but he sat down,
straddling the seat. I sat down facing him. The metal seat was
small, and there was just enough room to wedge my hips close to
his.

“What are you doing—?” Lash started to ask,
and then he stopped as he felt my hands reaching up under his vest
and his shirt to run over his chest.

“What’s it feel like I’m doing?” I said, and
kissed him hard, opening my mouth on his. Lash’s arms went around
me in an instant, reaching under my buttocks to pull my body hard
against his. I felt his penis against the front of my jeans,
hardening quickly as I kissed him. I reached down between us and
cupped him with my hand through his pants, making him groan into my
mouth.

“For me?” I said huskily.

He nodded, then kissed me again. I got up
then, moving away from him and earning an incredulous look in the
process. I reached into my pocket, and took out a key, showing it
to him in explanation.

Lash’s eyes had been dark with lust before,
but when he saw the key they turned black as pitch. “You weren’t at
the bathroom.”

“No,” I purred, licking my lips suggestively.
“I got us a room in the hotel down the street.”

“Why?” he managed, clearly stunned. “I don’t
understand.”

“Come with me now, my Mate,” I said softly,
reaching out my hand to him. “I have something to give you that’s
long overdue.”

Lash froze, then quickly got up and took my
hand without saying anything and followed after me out of the park
and down the street to the hotel lobby in a kind of shock. I led
him to the hotel room, and opened the door, locking it behind us.
Then I turned to him. “Sit on the bed.”

Lash sat down on the edge. I took off our
shoes, then faced him, and began to take off my clothes. Lash
reached for me, but I pushed him back to the bed gently. “No. Stay
there for now.”

That same surprise was in his eyes again,
only stronger. “Why?”

“Shh,” I said, putting my finger to his lips.
“Take off your weapons.”

He placed his weapons on the end table near
the bed, and then was silent, watching me as I finished undressing.
When I was naked before him, I pushed him back to the bed, laying
my naked body on his clothed one. “You have made love to me many
times in the past weeks, and before that, too. But I have never
really made love to you. And I want to now, Lash. Just lie there
for now, and let me touch you.”

Lash nodded, his breathing already fast and
excited.

I kissed him tenderly, and slowly began
unbuttoning his shirt. I removed it, then did the same with his
vest and turtleneck. When he was down to his T-shirt, I helped him
take that off over his head. Straddling him, I ran my hands over
his upper body, kissing him everywhere on his arms, his chest, and
his neck as he groaned, and thrust up with his hips, grinding
against me. I kissed him lower, and began to unbutton his jeans. I
slid them off, with a little help from him, then his socks. Lastly,
I slid off his underwear, and placed that in the pile with the rest
of his clothes. I kissed his lower body, running my hands over his
legs and thighs.

Lash was impatient now, wouldn’t lie still
for me. I turned my attention to his engorged member, and took him
in my hands. He gasped, and went still.

“That’s better,” I murmured, then gently
licked him, and bit him softly. His hands reached down to caress my
face as he jerked beneath my administrations. I slid my mouth over
him, sucking him, enticing a sharp cry of arousal from his parted
lips. I cupped his testicles in my hand, gently rubbing them.

Lash was moving all over now, surreptitiously
trying to get into a position to enter me. I obliged him, taking
him into my throat, and stroking him. Lash began panting, and
jerking slightly, even as he tried to hold still for me.
He’s
close to orgasm.

When he tried to pull me up to straddle him,
I pushed him back, taking my mouth off him. “Come for me,” I
commanded in a sultry voice, my green eyes dark as a forest at
midnight.

“No, Sar, I can’t do that to you.”

I’d expected this. Lash had refused to do
this that day in the Everglades, too, his excuse that he didn’t
want me to have that memory of him. I wasn’t sure if it was because
of something someone had said to him before in his long life, or
just that he personally thought it was too disrespectful to do with
me for some reason. I’d relented that day. Today, I was not
relenting. “Yes,” I said firmly. “I want you to, Lash. It’s
okay.”

“No,” he said, trying to draw himself out of
my grasp. “I’m not going to use you like that.”

“I want to do this for you,” I said
forcefully. “It’s my choice, to do this with you. You are not using
me. Now relax, and let me love you.”

“You’re sure?” Lash said, uneasy. “I don’t
want you to be hurt by me, or feel like—”

“I know you would never hurt me,” I said, and
then I swallowed him again, and began to stroke him.

“Ah, Ah!” Lash cried, thrusting and shaking
as I moved on him. I could feel how close he was, from what I’d
done to him with my hands and kisses. I squeezed his balls in my
hand gently, and sucked him harder, tightening my lips around
him.