FALL (The Senses)

by Paterson, Cindy

  Damien scoffed—as did Xamien, because really, there was no misinterpreting what they were doing. Xamien watched Damien shoot daggers at him and he guessed, if they were in a different place, Damien would try to gut him. The only reason Damien hadn’t was to avoid Rest; he knew the penalty for attacking a fellow Senses.

  “So what if he knows we’re sleeping together. Don’t make it a big deal and it won’t be. You’ve slept with other men, Delara.”

  “Yes, but not a Taldeburu who I’ve secretly been seeing for years. It’s different.”

  “You’re an ass Xamien,” Damien said.

  Xamien sighed. Yeah well, Damien would have more reasons to hate him when he found out Abby was living at his house.

  Damien touched the top of his head as if checking to see if his hair had grown back. Damien was locked in the sub-basement soon after Abby left with Waleron for her supposed execution, because of to his irrepressible rage. Waleron feared Damien would try to harm himself; Xamien guessed Damien would go on a killing rampage. Damien’s newly-shaved head seemed like some kind of premeditating ritual.

  Damien turned his attention to Delara. “I heard you mention Abby’s name earlier. Why? She’s been gone for months, why were you thinking about her?”

  “Fuck.”

  “Relax. Don’t let him get to you,” Xamien said.

  “I can’t really remember, Damien. They were just thoughts. I don’t know, maybe seeing you again was a reminder of her.”

  “Well done, Kitten.”

  Damien scrutinized Delara for several seconds. Xamien could see every muscle in his body straining, his eyes piercing into Delara as if attempting to figure out if she was lying or not. If he didn’t let up soon, Delara would cave under his power and blurt out the truth. Damien’s attention whirled to Xamien. “Get the hell out of my territory, Xamien. I came to this side of the world so I never had to see you, so fuck off.” He brushed past them and strode out the front door.

  “Wow, he really doesn’t like you.”

  Xamien shrugged. That was an understatement. And it was something he had no intention of getting into at the moment. “Let’s eat.” He pulled her towards the kitchen. “If I can’t eat you, I need to eat something else.” He let her go at the archway to the kitchen and she propped her shoulder up against the wall, her fingers rubbing a spot on her thigh. He knew what was beneath it, a cutting scar. He’d licked, kissed, and touched every scar on her body. Many were barely discernible as cutting was never meant for the purpose of scarring, just pain. The first time he’d tried to touch one of her scars, she’d backhanded him one. Well that led to a fight. He won. Now he could touch any part of her body he pleased.

  “If I was in your Talde, would you let me fight him?”

  Xamien bent over, pulled out a pot from beneath the stove, and plunked it down on the element. He shrugged, turning the dial on the stove so the gas lit and a flame burned beneath the iron grate. “Yes, but you’re not.” He turned to look at her and saw her lips pinched together and her foot tapping the floor. He reached above the sink and opened the cupboard, pulling down a jar of tomato paste. “In my opinion, if you chose to act against Tarek that’s your choice. I would protect you, and support that decision.”

  He felt the shift in the air as she moved closer. “You’d let me stay here? When you know I’m waiting for the moment I can kill him?”

  When he looked over his shoulder, her brow was furrowed and her gaze probing. “If that is what you needed to do, then yes. If it was my decision. But Kitten, Waleron has taken that choice away.”

  “But—”

  His tone sharpened when he didn’t mean for it to. “Bottom line—you can’t refuse him.”

  “I know.” Her voice was quiet with a husky lilt to it that made him think twice about standing in the same room with her. Control. She’d set the boundaries and he was already bending them.

  Xamien disagreed with Waleron’s choice, but he understood why Waleron made it. Waleron lived by his oaths. Lived the Senses. The Senses and his oaths superseded all else. Waleron’s oath to protect Delara because she is a Senses took precedence over what Delara wanted or needed. Waleron kept emotions out of it.

  “Don’t get me wrong, Kitten.” He poured the paste into the pot and then grabbed several spices from the spice holder magnetized to the stove hood. “I will interfere if need be. If your life is in question.”

  She was silent a few minutes. He opened a can of tomato sauce, poured it in with the paste, and stirred it with the wooden spoon.

  “I won’t go willingly.”

  No, she wouldn’t. The girl had more guts than any woman he knew. Except perhaps Max—he was still uncertain about the Senses he had rescued from vamps. But to face up against Waleron was either brave or stupid, and Xamien sided on brave with Delara. He respected that. His mother had loads of strength and determination, as did his closest friend Glunk. “I know you won’t.”

  Her head tilted, her expression baffled. “How can you stand there and act so...nonchalant?”

  “Would it be better if I argued and ranted and raved? Maybe threw some things around the room? Demanded that you listen to your Taldeburu?” He waved his hand and the dishtowel began swirling in the air then dropped to the floor. He held out his hand to her.

  She immediately looked suspicious. “What?”

  “Come here.”

  “Why?”

  “God, you’re like a skittish deer. You’re not like this at home.” He could remember an evening when they’d been cooking and she’d jumped him, dumping the entire salad onto the floor they ended up laying on seconds later.

  “Your home, not mine.”

  He shrugged. “How about some dinner? Keir took Anstice to Danielle and Balen’s, Jedrik and Damien are hunting CWOs in the Cabbagetown area, and Galen’s flown overseas for a few days.”

  “Ryker is here.”

  “Brooding in the basement. He isn’t coming anywhere near the kitchen, I suspect.” He nodded towards the fridge beside her. “Can you pass the milk?”

  He’d expected refusal, but instead she nodded. The woman was driving him insane with her standoff attitude. He understood it, but damn if he wasn’t frustrated. It looked like their fling was going to stay limited to Spain and that cooking dinner and stealing a kiss was all he was getting while he was here.

  Delara stirred the tomato sauce while Xamien added spice upon spice. Several times, he dipped his finger into the pot and tasted it before adding more or grabbing another spice. They discussed nothing more of their past conversation, almost as if it had never existed.

  “Mushrooms?”

  “Yeah sure,” Delara replied. She watched Xamien walk over to the fridge, tall, lean, and casual. There was no tension in his muscles, no hidden anger, just easygoing and...relaxed like he was at home. Okay, he was controlling and dominant, but it was never with anger. He played hard and had expectations of the women he slept with. In return, he knew exactly what the woman desired and he made certain those desires were met.

  She realized that his emotions were seeping into her own and she found herself enjoying the mundane task of cooking. He pulled out mushrooms, red peppers, an onion, and zucchini.

  “Nix on the last?”

  “Sure.” He threw the zucchini back in the drawer.

  He washed the vegetables in the sink and she watched as his hands gently scrubbed the surface of the skins, careful not to damage them, but with purpose. His fingers were long and lean like the rest of him. There was a one-inch scar on the back of his right hand. It had rubbed up against her breasts, been between her legs. It was rare a Senses scarred when they had Healers. It was only when the wounds were left to heal on their own that they left marks.

  She glanced down at her wrists, making certain her long-sleeved shirt covered her own scars. The ones on her wrists were faint and only discernible to a Senses. They were the first and the deepest. But Xamien had seen them, traced them with his finger, even kissed them. She was no
longer afraid or embarrassed with him, but here…with her Talde she felt uncomfortable having her scars showing.

  Xamien was chopping like a professional and she leaned down and took out a frying pan and placed a dab of butter in the bottom of it.

  Xamien brought the cutting board over beside the stove. “Thanks, Kitten.”

  She was going to tell him to stop calling her that while he was here, but then clamped her mouth shut. Why ruin a good moment? He was behaving himself—a challenge for him.

  The butter and vegetables hissed as they merged with the heat and Xamien quickly tossed them around with the wooden spatula. The scents were delicious and she found her mouth watering. She rarely cooked herself, except the odd scrambled eggs or grilled cheese sandwich. This was kind of fun, like they were in Spain again.

  On the island of St. Thomas, Kilter had cooked nearly every meal and, despite his rude and offensive nature, he could cook a delicious dish.

  Delara missed these moments. The scents building all around as food cooked, Xamien at her side, no conversation about anything important, just them. She had asked— okay he made her beg—for him to teach her how to make a few dishes. They had yet to get around to it. It was sporadic when she went to Spain. “How’s Glunk?” The man was a genius in the kitchen.

  Xamien picked up a mushroom between his fingers and held it out to her. She hesitated, then opened her mouth and he popped it in. “Ready?”

  She nodded.

  He pulled the frying pan off the burner then slid the vegetables into the pot. “Glunk is complaining that I’m gone and he is left alone with two women.” He put the pan in the sink then came back, leaning his back against the side of the stove watching as she stirred the sauce. “The good thing about learning to cook is that if it’s bad you can’t give in or you’ll starve.”

  “Or you can order in.”

  He swatted her butt. “Smart ass.”

  She smiled and then held up the spoon. Xamien leaned towards her and her heart slammed into her chest at the closeness. The overwhelming urge to touch his skin, feel his heart beneath her palm or run her fingers through his dark wavy hair—it was there, but different.

  Her hand trembled and Xamien reached out to steady it as he slipped the spoon into his mouth. Her skin burned from his gentle touch and she pictured him throwing her up on the counter and having her right there.

  “Careful. I may just do that and screw your rules.” He let go and licked his lips. “Perfecto. Another two minutes.”

  He plopped the capellini into the pot of bowling salted water. She couldn’t stop herself from watching his movements, so easy and gentle like a feather. He touched her body like that when she’d first come to him. He’d been tender and patient with his soft caresses tantalizing her skin. His tongue swept over her...

  His eyes darted to hers and all movement stilled. Damn, what had she been thinking? Something she shouldn’t be. Not here. Waleron could Trace here at any moment. She’d made her rules; Xamien and her were an occasional fling in Spain. Not on her turf.

  The water began boiling over and Xamien swore under his breath, then quickly pulled the pot from the stove and took it over to the strainer sitting in the sink. Delara kept her eyes forward, afraid to look at him and raise the emotions again.

  She felt his chest up against her back and dropped the spoon into the sauce as his breath touched the nape of her neck.

  He reached around her with one hand grabbing the handle of the pot. “I’ll carry it.”

  Delara quickly slipped from his closeness. “Tease.”

  “You know it.” He poured the sauce into a large bowl then carried it over to the table where he already had the pasta and two glasses of red wine. He flicked his hand and the white candle in the middle of the table lit and the lights in the room dimmed.

  It was too romantic. She didn’t like it. Not here. “I like to see what I’m eating.” She went and turned the dimmer up.

  “Not all the time, you don’t.”

  Delara’s step faltered on her way back to the table. The only man she’d ever felt a stronger attraction too was Waleron. Wraith Edan had raised her libido, but never with a mere look, and Liam had been pure self-punishment and, okay, she’d tried to torture Waleron by sleeping with the vamp. That had turned into a big mistake.

  “Let’s eat before I change my mind and break all your rules, boundaries, and whatever else and take you upstairs.” He scooped up the pasta with his fork and twirled it around. “And I’ll have you know, we’re not staying like this. You’re either coming to Spain or I’m fucking you here. I’m giving you tonight to decide. That’s as long as I can take.”

  Chapter 4

  Tarek has Risen

  Despite the deadbolt on the bedroom door, her scenting abilities, the presence of several Senses, and Xamien in the house, Delara was still unable to sleep.

  Waleron had called her after dinner to inform her the Wraiths had risen Tarek from Rest. Everyone was on alert and Waleron advised she be ready to leave for Spain in the morning. He hung the phone up on her, mid-objection.

  She paced the length of her room like a tiger in the zoo threatened by onlookers. Her hand constantly strayed to her knife at her waist, making certain it was still there, while her body shook and trembled, exhausted from the constant vigilance of alertness.

  Could she kill Tarek? She’d destroyed countless enemies, but Tarek was different. She had maited him. She knew she would never love him like Waleron, but Tarek had cared for her in the beginning. But remembering what Tarek had eventually done to her was enough to make her feel nauseated. The constant fear of upsetting him, keeping quiet and unnoticed as much as possible. Then there were his threats, the way his voice grew deeper and condescending as if he were punishing a child. That voice scared her.

  It was one in the morning. Her hands had run through her hair a zillion times and her outer thighs were bruised from the habit of pinching her flesh when she was disconcerted, which was often of late.

  “You awake, Kitten?”

  A smile tugged at the corner of her lips that bore teeth marks, more proof of her anxiety. The deep baritone of Xamien’s voice in her head was comforting and warm, like a favorite blanket wrapping around her on a cold winter night. A trust had grown between them, something she’d suspected came from the mindweaving he’d done with her.

  “If I wasn’t I would be now.” She sat on the edge of the queen-sized bed. The mattress sagged a small amount under her weight and she wondered how much it would dip under Xamien’s muscled frame. His tanned skin would certainly contrast against the stark white sheets and bring out the brilliance in his deep, almost obsidian eyes. God, stop. Having him here was such a bad idea. If Waleron only knew that he’d delivered her secret fling right into his own territory. What is she thinking? He probably wouldn’t care.

  “Waleron has Damien and Ryker out at your old house watching if Tarek will go back there. Jedrik and Balen are watching the gallery and Galen went to England to keep an eye on the old buddies of Tarek’s. It’s all covered Kitten. Besides, if he was going to attack, it won’t be tonight. He is more than likely weak from Rest.”

  And it’s the perfect time for her to go after him. But she couldn’t. None of them could. If Tarek didn’t make any threats or try and harm her or anyone else, they couldn’t touch him. It would be against the laws. He’d done his time.

  She slid her naked legs beneath the sheet smelling the lavender waft into the air at the movement of the crisp cotton. Curling up on her side with the pillow tucked beneath her cheek, Delara closed her eyes. “Thanks Xamien,” she thought it and whispered it aloud with a slight hoarseness to her voice.

  “You’re welcome.”

  She felt the moment his gentle aura left her and she instantly reached out to him again, finding his mind and latching onto the soothing calmness. “Don’t leave me yet.” Was she crazy asking him to stay with her? Mind to mind was intimate and revealing and she was trying to keep that to a mi
nimum here. “Where are you?”

  “Outside. Standing on the balcony.”

  “But it’s cold.” She pictured him leaning on the railing, his hair blowing in the wind, tickling his skin. Arms relaxed, shoulders broad like a wall daring any to get past him without his permission. And that mouth, she thought sighing. Yes, he had the second most luscious mouth that made her insides flutter.

  Xamien’s voice held a wondrous cadence. “Yes. But refreshing. I needed to clear my head and a dose of cold air will do that.”

  “Is something wrong?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized why he was outside. “Never mind, I know why.”

  “No more arguing with Waleron, Kitten. We need to leave for Spain tomorrow. I can’t stay here. It’s driving me crazy to have you so near and being unable to touch you.”

  Silence.

  Her cell rang and she leaned over to look at the flashing screen. The instant she saw his name, the familiar ache in her lower abdomen began, then the anxiety, the trembling. She never knew what to expect from him. When he would kiss her or touch her or move across the room with that confident stride—she melted. But it scared her when he’d smashed his fist into the metal frame that night when he’d found out about their child. Her fears always came and slept with her. She wasn’t certain she could handle Waleron right now.

  “I can hear the phone from here. Are you going to answer it?”

  “No,” she admitted. God, she wanted to hear his voice, talk to him, but all she ever got was this cold man she barely recognized. She wiped a stray tear escaping her right eye before it slid down her cheek to soak into her pillow. She was persistently worrying about Waleron and it was eating away at her like an army of red ants.

  The phone started ringing again.

  “It’s him, isn’t it?”

  She nodded then realized he couldn’t see her. “Yes.”

  “Answer it, Kitten. Before he comes over here. You know he’ll be freaking out now that Tarek is free.”