WingSpan (Taken on the Wing Book 1) (12 page)

“What about your dream?”

Though Mark doesn’t stop lapping at her tummy, Jenn feels her libido shrink as her thoughts turn to the accident.

“The engine on Terry’s Harley is somehow still running. It’s in pieces but the tank and engine are together so it rumble, rumble, rumbles and I can feel it in the ground underneath me,” she says and is rewarded with a nip from Mark. The hint of their first day together keeps her away from the cave-in that usually takes her when she thinks about the accident. “Nuke’s there, holding my hand and telling me not to look but I can’t help it. Terry’s too still and there’s a woman screaming behind him.

“So strange, seems to come from his open mouth but I know he’s gone already. Then the angel comes.”

“Angel?” Mark asks.

“Yeah, his wings were never solid but I could see their shape; each was longer than he was tall and he shaded Terry for a moment before he walked away but instead of waking up tonight there was a bad angel, not like the good one who took my brother to heaven.”

Mark kisses his way along her hip, bringing her back into the moment. He seems to know when she’s too into the dream so he can bring her out of it, gently encouraging her to talk more.

“Then it’s you in the middle of the road instead and a bad angel is there,” she remembers the bad angel, his wings black against the street lit snow. “I wasn’t too late to save you. He acted like he was there to take you somewhere good but he was lying.

“I fought him and chased him away,” she feels so damned proud. Mark crawls up above her, settling between her legs. Jenn’s aware she should be hot like crazy for him but she isn’t. She’s still soaked in disappointment she couldn’t save both Mark and Terry. “What smells good?”

Mark looks straight down into her eyes and puts a small amount of space between them; enough for him to put a hand low on her stomach.

“You, fertility,” he whispers. “I want permission to break my ‘no expectations’ promise.”

“Hey!” she half-shouts, pushing herself out from under Mark. Jenn knows exactly which day of her cycle it is and even with a condom she’s hesitant. And how the hell can he tell that anyway? Maybe he’s just guessing. “We are so far away from thinking like that.”

“How far?” Mark demands, pulling at her panties. “Months? A year? More?”

“Jesus, never!”

“What the hell?” he withdraws before she can push his hands away and Jenn can hear the confusion in his voice.

“It’s our second night together and you want to try for children?”

“You know better than that,” he scolds. “And it’s been six months and of course I don’t mean like this.”

“Hey,” she tries, aware the pills and all the talk of Terry have made her irrational. “I’m thinking like a single girl when I don’t feel that way with you.”

Use your words, Jenn
, she thinks; the mantra the counselor gave her. You can always apologize for the bad ones but if you never try to say what’s on your mind then your feelings will never come out.

“I’m living so much in the past right now; clinging to it even though I know there’s a lot I need to let go of. I feel like tonight I took a step into the present with you and I was scared beyond belief even though I knew I couldn’t make things any worse between us by sharing Terry.

“I want to be in the present more, Mark. I’m not ready for the future. I’m sorry for barking at you,” Jenn apologizes, holding her hands to him. Mark accepts, taking the same position as before and stroking her cheek as he kisses her eyes.

“You challenge me like nobody ever has,” he says as Jenn reaches for his heavy buckle.

“Mark?” She pauses, fingers down in the waistband of his pants. His knees come up driving hers apart and giving her some room to work. “Thank you for not sending me away.”

“I shouldn’t have walked out,” Mark’s hungry kiss drives to her throat and all Jenn can think is she’ll never want another man as long as she has this one. She deserved the wake up call back at the apartment and should be thanking him for it. Satisfied with the open buckle she tackles the buttons on his shirt. “I meant what I said. I want this; with you. It’s long distance, I know but if you want to make it work as much as I do we can pull it off.”

Mark pulls her big t-shirt up and skin on skin they connect sharing something as intense as their encounter in his truck. His acceptance moves her more than anything else. Disconnection and emptiness are all she’s known for too long, the past six months interrupted by dreams and the hope she’ll dream again.

“I’ve made some bad choices,” she admits. “With men and other things. I can’t help thinking you deserve better.”

“Do you think I’m a bad choice?” Mark rolls away, landing beside her. The temperature drops considerably as air fills the space between them. It’s twice in as many minutes that something’s come out all wrong.

“Not you, Mark,” she gets on her elbows beside him. “I came here prepared for you to send me away and here I am in your bed wearing your clothes. I’ve done so many stupid things I feel like I don’t deserve your forgiveness. Maybe I’m having a hard time accepting it.”

His eyes close and his breathing slows as she waits for him to say something. Anything. She gives up and rolls over.

“Jenn is so incapable,” she says to herself. Her embarrassment for the admission is tempered by a new feeling of protective distance; protective of both Jenn and her utter and complete weakness. It’s like she has to push Jenn away for her own good and it’s just as bad as locking away her grief instead of dealing with it. But it could also be the only way she’ll ever hold on to anyone like Mark. The angrier she gets about it the more she realizes it’s something she might never be free of.

Mark startles as she slaps her pillow.

“I just wish she could be okay with things,” she blurts out. “You know I can only do so much. I can put her aside and I can shelter her but all the time she’s telling me—”

“Ah, crap,” Shadow finishes. Now she sounds more messed up than she really is; talking about herself in the third person like her problems are so far away she can only face them if she pretends to be someone else. But that’s how she sees them when she’s strong with Talon. Reintegrating even the smallest piece of Jenn’s pain with Shadow’s strength feels like bailing out a sinking ship with nothing but her bare hands.

“Shadow,” Talon says. Even his scent has changed to match her change in perspective.

I really am off the deep end tonight; thinking we’re both two people.

“Is it too soon to say how attached I am?”

“Really?” Inside, Jenn takes a deep breath. It’s what she’s wanted to hear for a very long time. And coming from Talon she’s able to hold herself together enough to experiment with her feelings. With two tugs on her hip he rolls her over, making her head spin as they meet nose to nose in the center of his big bed.

“Really.”

Shadow grabs at the muscle of his arm as he pulls her flat against him. They kiss, bumping noses in the dark then he pulls his head back, letting her lick at his neck and inhale him until her lungs are full.

“I know you feel complicated right now,” he whispers as his thumb hooks the top of her panties. “I appreciate every piece you show me, Shadow. Inside and out.

“And yes, I know I sound too good to be true but I really am that good.”

“Wow,” she giggles. The statement is as full of himself as she’s come to expect from Talon. Secure and self assured in every way she’s experienced him. Except when she blew it at Terry’s apartment but he was Mark then, not Talon. She gets her hand over his and pushes her panties down. “You really are.”

“I’m going to bribe you,” he continues as she lifts her hip and lets him pull them down even further. Talon gets his hand up in her shirt, cupping a breast then nibbling at it through the fabric. “Because even though I promised I can’t help myself.”

“Okay,” she agrees although he doesn’t need to. She’s on the verge of climbing up and proving just how okay she can be.

“Tomorrow we’re going to talk like I wanted to at your place,” he insists.

“Yes,” Shadow kicks clear of her underwear, shoving them deep under the blankets. She wants to be naked, unhidden, to show Talon she feels safe when she’s exposed with him.

“You’ll rest up for a few days and I’ll drive you home.”

“No!”

“Yes,” his hand slides between her thighs and she opens for him. “But not until we’ve decided where we want things to go.

“And you’ll promise to keep being yourself with me,” he whispers, starting with a teasing stroke between her legs before he reaches for the shirt.

Chapter Eleven

“Please go get her,” a woman’s voice begs from the front of the house. “Please?”

“She’s still asleep,” Mark answers. “As long as you keep your voice down.”

“Awe,” she whines.

Jenn rolls over and reaches for Mark, hoping to ground herself in him until the voice goes away but the other side of the bed is empty. Only his scent is near and it’s not enough.

“Please?” another woman snorts. “He smells more of her than he does of himself. Isn’t that all you need to know?”

“Be nice, Swift.”

Cutlery rattles in a can as the voices get lower and Jenn slides out of bed. The room is cold and she takes a step sideways onto the soft rug and off the frigid hardwood. Across the hall she can see her folded clothes on the bathroom counter so she hurries inside without looking toward the front of the house.

Mark had put her expensive underwear on the counter with her clothes so she pulls on the black set, jeans and a dark blue t-shirt before brushing her teeth without running the water, hoping to remain unnoticed.

When she opens the door again the second voice croons seductively and Jenn boils over. She’s pushed by a need to display possession more than hide so she sets her shoulders and walks out into the living room.

Mark faces two women: the one with long brown hair has a shoulder between him and a red-faced blonde; her short spiky hair makes her look even taller than she is. The two wear huge amounts of gold, jeans, and what appear to be bathing suit tops. The blonde is more than six feet tall, the brunette several inches under but it’s the blonde Jenn sizes up as an adversary.

Blondie glares at Mark then her eyes flash to Jenn. The blonde is jealous and stinks of arousal, grabbing a can of salmon from the kitchen counter and jamming a fork full into her mouth.

“
This
is the royal?” she demands around the mouthful of fish.

Jenn’s nose wrinkles as Mark pulls her in tight, getting his big arm around and tucking her in under his shoulder.

“We saw the scorched circle around your house, Talon,” the brunette says. “You can’t keep denying it.”

“No wonder Torrent is so pissed,” Blondie laughs and lowers her eyes on Mark as she fingers a heavy gold chain.

Jesus, she’s eying his gear right in front of me,
Jenn thinks but she’s so weirded out by the scene before her she doesn’t do any more than grab Mark around the middle and hold on.

“Hi, Shadow,” the brunette waves. “I’m Feather, Talon is my brother.”

“Hi,” Jenn answers, her voice no more than a rush of air from her lungs. Now she’s certain the women have seen her and she slips free of Mark to duck behind him. She holds on to his shirt and buries her face between his shoulders.

“Maybe she’ll come out for treats?” Blondie laughs and Jenn can hear the fork rattle in the big empty can. “I think I deserve an introduction.”

Mark’s hand finds Jenn’s lower back and rubs so Jenn peeks out to see the blonde still failing at eye contact.

“Hey, Blondie,” Jenn growls, finding her voice and confidence now she’s hidden behind Mark. Using her words. She holds a hand up at eye level, reminding herself very much of Terry keeping Nuke in line. “Eyes at least this high, bitch.”

Jenn’s never called anyone a bitch and is horrified by the choice of words but damn it, Blondie’s ogling her man and deserves a reminder the view isn’t free.

“Not in my house, Swift,” Mark yells as he pushes Jenn back toward the hall.

The can drops to the floor as Blondie gets her arms out but then Jenn sees they’re not her arms; Blondie’s arms end in
claws
and the other limbs appear to fill out with brown feathers and take up the whole kitchen. Canisters and drying dishes go flying everywhere.