FALL (The Senses)

by Paterson, Cindy

  “Is that so? Perhaps you will make an exception?” He had no inclination to waste his time courting any female regardless of how tempting she is.

  She shook her head, a few tendrils falling loose from her chignon to caress the sides of her face. “A shame. I was just beginning to like you. However, it seems gossip is accurate after all.”

  “And what gossip is that?” He realized that he walked right into that one because she quirked a smile, mischief settling in her eyes.

  “That you remain solitary and if you take a woman to bed it is for one night and they’re never Senses. You rarely laugh and detest social gatherings.” She nodded towards the courtyard. “Hence, here you stand while everyone else is there. You’re an ancient and live by an oath to your mother and the Goddess. You’re one of the most powerful Senses, fearless in battle…” She hesitated raising her brows as his frown increased. “Shall I continue?”

  “Accurate and yet there is always the chance that one can change their ways.” Not that he would, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “Hmm perhaps. I did hear you laugh.” Her nose twitched like a rabbit sensing danger and she glanced to the right. “It appears someone requires your attention.”

  Keir strode towards them taking the stairs two at a time. Waleron wanted to curse for the rapidly approaching interruption, but crude language rarely passed his lips. His mother had seen to that. He only had to say the word bastard in front of his mother once to know never to do it again. She whipped him, a good fifty lashes across the back, then locked him in a cupboard without healing his bleeding, raw back. He still carried the scars. He’d been nine years old.

  He could have warned Keir off by speaking telepathically, however shirking responsibilities of any kind was against his oath to the Goddess and more importantly to himself.

  He grabbed Delara’s hand before she had the chance to walk away and the instant her flesh touched his, the pull on his need increased tenfold. “It has been a pleasure, Maitagarri. Perhaps when you are older and...more experienced, you’ll reconsider.” Her mouth fell open and a slight gasp emerged. “Until then I am certain you will be unable forget me,” he said in a calm, steady droll. He pressed his lips to the back of her hand just as Keir stopped beside them.

  He grinned as she stared at him, mouth opened, then suddenly she slammed it shut.

  “I believe kind sir, that it will be you who will be unable to forget me.” She plucked her hand from his grasp, pivoted, and with her head held high and her step light, she strode away.

  He felt an ache in his chest as she disappeared from view and knew in that instant that she was right. He wouldn’t forget her.

  ****

  “What’s Waleron like?” Delara asked while perched on a low branch of an oak tree, swinging her legs. “I mean, I hear the gossip, but it can’t all be true.” It had been an hour since she’d seen the Taldeburu and she was finding it difficult to forget those magnetic blue eyes and his lean, lithe form hugged by the black tailored coat and breeches, muscles flexing beneath—

  “Jesus Delara,” Jedrik scoffed in his Scottish brogue. “I may be your best mate, but I’m still a man for Christ’s sake.” Jedrik grunted and tossed his head like a displeased stallion, unleashing a few blonde locks from his leather tie that kept his hair pulled back.

  She quickly raised her shields around her mind. “Then stay out of my head.”

  “You’re thoughts are like arrows piercing my brain.” His teasing grin faded and his tone grew serious as he paused, no longer carving the piece of wood he held in his hands. “The Taldeburu is off limits, Sass. Stay away from him.”

  “I think you’ve the wrong impression of him.” Delara plucked a leaf from its tentative hold on the branch above her head and absently ripped it up, letting the pieces flitter to the grass below. “He’s intelligent. Powerful. Perhaps, a wee bit intimidating, but he needs to be, and he does protect us. He must care and I think with the right woman… Why do you care anyway?” She raised her brows. “Jealous?”

  Jedrik hmphed.

  She laughed. “Oh bollocks,” she said as she wobbled on the narrow branch.

  “Frig, Sass. Get down before you fall or, worse, someone sees you.” He held up his hand to assist and she ignored him, precariously getting to her feet and climbing higher.

  Jedrik cursed beneath his breath and straightened his six-foot stature. “I think you best be getting yourself down from there, Sass.”

  “Why?” She peered through the abundance of leaves to try and see what Jedrik was concerned about, but saw nothing. It didn’t surprise her that she was unable to see what he did, as he was a Visionary. “Jedrik? Jedrik?” It was the musky scent of cedar plowing into her that had her scrambling down the tree as fast as her legs could carry. “Bloody hell,” she swore as her breeches snagged a severed branch. “Jedrik!” she hissed. “Jedrik, help me down.”

  She yanked on the snag and the material made a loud ripping sound as it suddenly came free, knocking her off-balance. She made a quick grab for a thick lower limb and missed, finding herself tumbling through the thicket of leaves to land with a hard thump on her butt in the grass. “Bollocks.”

  She expected to hear Jedrik’s laughter, instead she heard Waleron’s deep chuckle behind her.

  “Oh!” Delara scrambled to her feet, brushing off her back end that had a very noticeable grass stain. She felt her cheeks heat up and her stomach plummeted with utter embarrassment. Sitting up in a tree was unladylike, falling out of it was…well it was mortifying. “I … I was just…” Oh god she couldn’t think of a single excuse for her behavior. What a fool he’d think her. She was supposed to be a Tracker, soon a Senses warrior and here she was falling out of a tree. He’d never allow her to be a part of any Talde with such clumsy behavior.

  “Practicing your climbing skills?” he finished.

  “Well, ah…no. Jedrik saw a…well, a cat,” she blurted while looking around and noticing that her friend had hightailed it out of sight. “Yes, a cat. In the tree. I was rescuing him.”

  “A cat?”

  “Yes. Did you see where he went?”

  “Jedrik or the cat?” he asked, looking thoroughly amused.

  “Umm well, both.”

  Waleron gave a diminutive nod. “I told Jedrik to make himself useful elsewhere. The cat it seems has...vanished.”

  “Oh.” Well, what did she say to that? She winced as she cocked her hip, reminding herself of the foolish fall. It wasn’t often she found herself self-conscious; usually she was unperturbed by her more often than not unladylike behavior. Today, however, she was feeling rather apprehensive and well…she had to admit, out of her element. She’d never been attracted to a man before and the emotions sifting uncontrollably through her body were overwhelming. All she could think about were his hands touching her, his lips on her—

  “Delara. Stop.” Her name slipped off his tongue like milk chocolate, so delicious that she wanted to melt at his feet. “Come here.”

  Her eyes widened and she took a step back. Bloody hell, this man made her pulse go breakneck speed with two simple words. He was right, she was young and innocent and, in a Senses immortal life, considered fresh out of the cradle.

  She stood like a startled deer as he stepped towards her. Christ, she couldn’t even think straight with him inches away from her. What was he doing to her?

  “Maitagarri,” he murmured. “You were right; I am unable to forget you.” He raised his hand as if to stroke her hair then hesitated. “May I?”

  She instinctively nodded. What else could she do? She craved his touch, yearned to feel his fingers in her hair.

  His eyes met hers as he put his hand on the nape of her neck. Then suddenly he groaned and before she knew it, his lips claimed her own. Her gasp was swallowed by their mouths melting together, warmth of plush lips mingling as one and devouring her self-will as if it were water slipping through her grasp. The pressure of his arm around her waist increased as he pried her
lips apart and slipped his tongue inside to link with her own. Her knees gave way and if it weren’t for his arm, she’d be a mess of limbs on the grass.

  “Waleron.” Zurina’s voice came from behind and startled her, causing heat to flood her cheeks and her muscles to tense.

  Waleron ignored the untimely interruption and placed two tender, light kisses on the corners of her mouth before pulling back.

  Delara felt coldness seep into her blood as Waleron’s arm dropped from around her. She placed her fingers to her swollen lips and stumbled back two steps until her spine hit the tree.

  Zurina frowned as she stood staring at them. “Keir has assembled everyone in the ballroom. They await your address.”

  Waleron gave a single nod in acknowledgment, however his eyes remained riveted on Delara, making her want to dive for cover from his intense scrutiny. Those eyes were like shards of ice, looking as if they could read every thought of enticing, inappropriate behavior that played across her mind. Maybe he had that capability, she thought with sudden apprehension.

  “I will be there directly,” Waleron stated when Zurina remained fixated in place.

  Zurina opened her mouth as if she was going to argue, but swiftly clamped it shut the moment Waleron raised his brows. She abruptly spun on her heel and walked away.

  Waleron waited until Zurina was out of earshot before he spoke. “You are remaining here at Keir’s?”

  “Two weeks,” she replied with a catch in her throat.

  He nodded. “Good. I will come for you tomorrow morning and we will go riding.”

  Her face, still flaming hot, was becoming hotter by the second as she thought of what he might do to her if she met him again. Not a good idea, she decided. Her back stiffened and she shifted her feet, hearing a loud crack beneath them. A quick glance down showed her the piece of wood Jedrik had been carving now broken in half. “I am uncertain whether that would be—”

  “I was not giving you a choice.” He didn’t wait for an answer as he strode away.

  Anguish

  London, England 1926 (61 years later)

  As Delara strolled along the garden path near where she had first met Waleron, she imagined Waleron’s cedar scent on the tip of her tongue and his hands on her abdomen, caressing and gentle, the lyrical touch making her insides dance in a waltz of desire. Even the moans and groans from the Talde members at her joviality refused to dampen her mood. She was always this way when he was expected to visit. But it was rare they ever had longer than a few days together at a time, Waleron was vigilant about his oath to the Goddess and was constantly hunting, trying to find new information on their enemies—where to find them, how best to attack. But recently, he’d started spending more time with her, staying longer than he intended. He even hinted at her moving out of the Talde house and living with him. Waleron didn’t believe in being maited. His word was his oath and if he loved her that was all she needed. Being maited brought law into something that was far more than that.

  She felt like the sun was heating up her blood as she imagined Waleron, his fingertips a waterfall of tantalizing strokes exploring her body. God, it had been so long since they’d lain in one another’s arms. This time he’d left for several months while hunting a Lilac that was proving to be rather elusive. She’d tried to go with him, but Waleron rarely went with any of them unless it was essential.

  She put her hand in her pocket and touched the crinkled paper. He’d given it to her months ago. Words he’d written. Words she didn’t fully understand, but she knew what they meant all the same. She carried them everywhere and when she went to bed at night, she read them before placing the note in her nightstand.

  She closed her eyes remembering him, his words. After they met that day at Keir’s he’d taught her to grapple and track. The lessons were ruthless and he demanded perfection, and she gave him everything she had. From there he’d taught her how to make love. Not just any sexual intimacy, but a raw connection that brought them together as one. Perfectly matched. In complete harmony. She enjoyed his authority, his control; it left her with no decisions, she could just feel and enjoy.

  She had the urge to skip, but dignity stopped her, along with the fact that she saw Jedrik peer out the living room window with a deep scowl on his face. He’d tease her inexorably if she skipped. Already he was taunting her about the perm-a-smile on her face. He knew Waleron was expected today. Tye, being a Taster, was no doubt walking around the house with the flavor of milk chocolate on his tongue with what she had on her mind. Well, it was better than rotten milk which a Taster experienced if anger was around them. A Taster learned damn quickly to control letting in others’ emotions.

  “Delara,” Jedrik called as he came out of the house running towards her. He leapt over a rotting log in his path, long lithe legs straining at the brisk pace. He stopped in front of her, feet skidding and stirring up the gravel to cause a cloud of gray dust beneath his feet.

  She detoured around him. “What, no lasses to woo this afternoon?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “Delara, stop a sec, would you?” He tried to block her with his body, but she ducked by him again.

  “I can’t.” She was too excited. Waleron was coming to take her away tonight. They finally were going to have a few weeks to themselves. He said he had something special planned.

  “Delara...” Jedrik grabbed her arm, bringing her to an abrupt halt. “Lass, we need to talk.”

  The moment their gazes clashed her heart plummeted, then began to beat like a tribal drum. She opened up her scenting ability and immediately smelled the mixture of fear and desolation emanating from Jedrik’s pores. Okay, maybe his latest fling had dumped him and he was, for once, actually disheartened or maybe...

  “It’s Waleron,” he said, the deep valley between his brows deepening. “Frig Sass, it’s not good.”

  Her breath stopped and her eyes widened with trepidation. Waleron was fine; she’d feel it if anything happened to him. Their connection was strong and without borders. Maybe he was going away for a few days and couldn’t tell her himself. She grunted at the thought—typical.

  “The Lilac... Jesus, Delara.” He dropped his arm from her and wrung his hands together. Oh God, he looked too serious. Her heart skipped a beat and she felt the blood drain from her face. “Ah, frig Delara. Waleron is gone. The Lilac Jasmine, she killed him. Zurina found his blood near the docks, she put her hands in it and she saw him being stabbed. She saw Jasmine sucking the air from his lungs. It went dark, Delara. Zurina said it went completely dark.” His words were rough and pebbled as if he had something lodged in his throat. “Waleron’s dead.” He hesitated, the shifting in his normally playful eyes revealing the torture in his words. “Christ, Zurina says it’s like his light went out.”

  Delara remained frozen, the words slipping over her mind as unreal and illogical. It was impossible. No, Waleron was their Taldeburu, the strongest, the most impenetrable, immortal. The Lilac could never defeat him.

  “No...no! It’s a mistake.” She couldn’t meet his eyes, unable to face his truth. “Waleron would never leave me. You will see.” She stepped around Jedrik.

  Jedrik pleaded, “Jesus Christ, Delara. He’s not coming back.”

  “No.”

  She heard his running steps trying to catch up with her and she stopped abruptly. Jedrik walked or strode casually. He never ran. Yet he ran across the yard from the house, leapt over that log...was running now.

  Her legs gave out just as Jedrik reached her. “No!” she screamed as they both crumbled to the gravel driveway, Jedrik using his body to cushion her fall. “No. Please God no. Please, I’m begging you. No. Waleron, please. Please.”

  “Delar. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “No!” she shouted. “No.” She flailed in Jedrik’s arms, her limbs useless as Jedrik supported her, trying to keep her from harming herself. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her mind whirled with devastation hurtling at her as if an out-of-control avalanche. “
No. I’d know. I’d...I’d feel it.” She punched his chest. “He’d never leave me, Jedrik. He promised.”

  “That he did.” Jedrik kept her trapped in his arms, his soft soothing words doing nothing for the horror that sifted through her insides. “Shhh, lass. We’ll get through this. I’ll look after you. We all will.”

  “I need him. Oh god, please... I. Need. Him.” The agony clutching at her soul was unbearable. “I can’t go...I can’t live without...please, please bring him back. Bring him back. A Healer—”

  “He’s not coming back, sweetie. I’m sorry. Frig, I’m so sorry.”

  The words ripped through her heart, axing at every ounce of sanity, reality, and logic. Waleron would never leave her. He promised. He promised they’d be together for eternity.

  A roar screeched from her lungs and Jedrik grabbed the back of her head and pushed it into his chest muffling her screams. His hand stroked her hair in a gentle caress trying desperately to ease the pain. But nothing would ever ease it again.

  She’d not go on. She couldn’t. Escape. Find him. Help him. Be with him.

  “Please Delara,” Jedrik whispered in a haggard tone. “Please stop.”

  She felt his tears soaking into her hair on the top of her head, his remorse merged with her own. Nothing could make her stop screaming. She couldn’t control it. The screams released from her throat with an undistinguishable horror of sound.

  “He promised,” she whispered. “I can’t let him...” The sobs overtook her and she dug at the gravel, pawing like a wild animal trapped in hell, the stones tearing at her skin, imbedding beneath her fingernails. “We were going to—to go away. I love him. Please, I love him. I can’t lose him.”

  “I know, Sass. I know.”

  Her breath came in short, jagged gasps; she desperately tried to control the darkness that invaded—but there was no return. Living each day without Waleron was like asking her to live with a knife through her heart, barely beating, torn in half. Suffocating without his breath.