0036393001337282886 wind demon 01

by blood wind

“Yes.”

  He pushed on the keypad and started to enter. When he realized Bridget was not following him, he snaked out a hand and took her arm. “Come with me. They know you are my woman.” He shut the door in the Director's face.

  “I didn't know if you wanted me to show any familiarity around-”

  “They know you are my woman!” he stressed again as he began to jerk at the buttons of his uniform blouse, flick the cuffs open. He yanked the opened shirt from his trousers, and then bent over to tug off his boots. “They know I have had sex with you, Bridget,” he groused. “I would venture to say everyone on FSK-14 knows by now!” A bright infusion of color spread over Bridget's face. She shrugged helplessly, not knowing how to answer. She picked up the uniform shirt he threw savagely to the floor.

  “I would even go so far to say most people know how many times we had sex last eve! ” She watched him flick open the buttons of his fly then kick off his trousers. She picked those up as well.

  “Kam…” she began only to have him fix her with a warning glance.

  “I am a Reaper, Bridget,” he snapped. “I will be all right. No matter what they do to me, I will be all right!”

  “Of course you will,” she agreed. Coming to him, she cupped his cheek. “Remember that I love you.” He blinked-the only acknowledgment he gave that he understood. “Let's get this over with,” he said.

  Dr. Dean was waiting at the end of the hall for them. Beside her was the same team of women who had taken part in his first reinforcement sessions. He swept his gaze among them. “Ladies,” he said.

  “We will make this as easy for you as we can, Captain,” Tina said.

  Cree nodded, then walked into the therapy suite. He was already stretched out on the table when they entered behind him.

  “I hope it was worth it,” came an amused voice from the gallery.

  Everyone looked up to see Justice Onar at the glass.

  “What do you mean?” Dr. Dean asked.

  “He knows,” Onar grunted. “Don't you, Cree?” A nasty grin crinkled the old man's face. “Was she worth being punished for, Captain?”

  Dr. Dean glanced at Bridget, wondering if she had guessed, as everyone else had, that this was the reason her lover was being tortured. One look at the horror stamped on Bridie's face told the Director the news had devastated the younger woman.

  “Answer me, Cree!” Onar shouted. “Was she worth it?”

  From the position in which he lay, Cree couldn't see the old man's face, but it didn't matter. He wasn't even looking toward the gallery. “Aye,” he bit out. “She was!”

  “Oh, Kam,” Bridget sobbed, hurrying to her lover. “I am sorry. I-”

  “Bridget, take your place and let's get this business finished,” Dr. Dean insisted.

  “I can't!” Bridget cried. “I won't be a part of hurting him again!”

  “Do what you have to do, woman,” Cree snapped at her. “Don't shame me in front of that bastard!”

  “I did this to you.”

  “I know who to blame and it isn't you!” Cree barked. “Get your ass where you belong so I can get the hell out of here!”

  “Bridget, take your place,” said Dr. Dean.

  They worked over him: attaching leads, clamping down restraints. Bridget moved to the head of the table and placed her hands lovingly on Cree's temples.

  “Do not let me swallow my tongue,” he instructed and was relieved when he saw her smile just a little. She nodded and bent over him.

  “Remember what I told you,” she whispered in his ear. “I love you, Kamerone Cree.” She straightened up and locked her eyes with his. “I love you with all my heart.” There was a flicker of his eyelids, nothing more, to indicate he had heard her.

  “Are you ready, Bridget?” the Director asked.

  Bridget nodded, still holding Cree's stare. She placed the rubber wedge between the Reaper's lips.

  The needle was driven into Cree's vein and almost instantly the drug flooded his body. The last thing he heard before the nightmarish hell began all over again was her voice:

  “I am here, Kam. I am here.”

  ****

  “KAM.”

  He was swimming up through a white-hot fog that was sluicing away the very flesh from his body.

  “Kam?”

  There was that godsawful pain in his back again: the dagger slicing in, sending waves of agony through his spine.

  “Kamerone!”

  Running his tongue over his canines, he felt the sharp edges forming, tasted his own blood as they cut through his flesh. Smelled the fresh blood scent and body heat of some animal close to him.

  He growled.

  His hands arched into claws.

  “Kamerone, wake up!”

  Brought abruptly out of his torment, Cree stared fixedly at the wavering image hovering him.

  “Here. Drink.”

  His head was lifted and he felt the cool rim of a metal container against his lips, then salty warmth flowed into his thirsty mouth.

  He swallowed convulsively, drawing in the liquid; drowning in the taste and feel of it; reveling in the slackening of the pain in his body.

  “More,” he rasped.

  “I know, baby.”

  Once again the container was brought to his mouth and he drank greedily until the torment was relieved.

  “Are you warm enough?”

  “Too warm,” he muttered, mentally trying to fan away the hot fog in which he was lying. He felt hands on him, then blessedly cool water easing over his naked chest.

  “When you're able, we'll go home.”

  Home? He shifted his head on the pillow and blinked to rid his vision of the haze. What he saw when he was finally able to focus was the most comforting sight in all the universe to him. “Bridget?” he whispered.

  “I'm here, sweetheart.” She sat down in a chair beside his cot, took his hand in hers, and brought it to her lips. She kissed his knuckles.

  “Is it-?” He found he could not ask.

  “It's over,” she told him and nestled his hand against her cheek.

  A long, relieved sigh came from his very core. He tried to smile, but the canines cut into his lower lip and he saw her look away. Mortally ashamed of what he was for the first time in his life, he turned his face from her.

  “Don't,” she ordered, reaching over to turn his face toward her again. “It'll just take some getting used to, that's all.” He had no intention of her ‘getting used to’ seeing him in any part of his Transition. Had his face altered just now? Was that why she had looked away? Or had those wickedly sharp fangs frightened her?

  Either way, he did not intend to let her witness any more changes in him. Already the sharpness was leaving his teeth-along with the hunger and the extreme body temperature. If he was lucky, and he took transfusions as needed, he would not go into Transition again for another cycle and he would make gods-be-damned sure he was nowhere near her when that happened.

  “Just rest, okay?” she asked. She used her free hand to smooth the hair from his eyes. “When you feel up to it, I'll help you dress and we'll go home.”

  Home.

  There it was again: that wonderful, sharing word.

  Before Bridget had come into his life, his quarters had been just a place to eat and sleep and exist in between assignments.

  Now, it was a glorious place where he could rest and find peace.

  He dozed off with her holding his hand and stroking his hair. When he woke, she was standing at the door, speaking quietly to Dr. Dean.

  “I think it's the rain I miss most,” he heard Bridget saying. Her back was to him and she had no idea he was listening.

  “Rain,” the Director sighed. “Sweet spring rain on an Oregon hillside.”

  “One of my favorite things was to sit on our porch and watch the rain falling on the corn, ” Bridget said. “I remember the smell of it on the grass; the sound of it hitting the gutters and roof, the air conditioner in my bedroom window. At night, it wou
ld plink against the air conditioner and I thought that the most soothing sound.”

  “What about snow?” someone beyond his sight asked and he thought the voice might belong to Tina.

  “I miss that, too,” Bridget sighed.

  “I don't!” Dr. Dean grumbled. “I hated shoveling snow to get my damned car out of the driveway!”

  “I miss the light.” Cree was sure that was Ivonne's voice. “Sunlight on a Miami beach. Lying there, getting a tan on the chaise lounge.” She sighed. “I really miss that.

  “The light,” Bridget repeated. “I have almost forgotten what it is to see daylight.” Dr. Dean looked past Bridget's shoulder and saw Cree watching them. She smiled. “How are you feeling, Captain?” He shrugged. “Bridget?” he asked, putting out a hand for her to come to him. She came, took his hand and bent over to place a light kiss on his forehead. “I am ready to leave,” he told her.

  “Then we'll go home,” she replied.

  As she was helping him put on his uniform, he stopped and looked at her. “Isn't there a Vid-Com outside the door there?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He stepped around her, walked into the hallway and stood before the Vid-Com screen. “Computer?”

  “Yes, Captain Cree?”

  “Where is my 2/IC?”

  “One moment, Sir,” the computer. Then, “He is having his evening meal, Sir.”

  “Tell him I wish to see him in my quarters ASAP.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Can't he finish his meal?” Bridget asked.

  Cree glanced at her, frowned, and then shrugged. “After he finishes eating,” he corrected.

  “I shall so inform Lt. Lona, Sir,” the Vid-Com reported.

  He came back to Bridget, turned away from her so he could thrust his arms through the shirt she was holding for him. He smiled when her arms went around his waist and she pressed herself against his back. “Thank you,” Cree heard her say.

  “You are going to be my ruin, woman,” he sighed as he removed her hands and began to button his shirt. He stopped when she came around in front of him, pushed his hands away and began buttoning the shirt herself. When she was finished, she waited until he had stuffed the shirt in his trousers before she slipped her arms around him once more and lay her head against his chest. He wrapped his own arms around her and held her loosely.

  “I am glad you were with me today,” he said softly. She didn't respond so he put up a hand to hook his index finger under her chin and lift her head. He looked down into her eyes, his thumb rubbing across the point of her chin. “I want with you me for all time.”

  Bridget's lips parted but before she could say anything, his head came down and his mouth took hers in a sweet, intoxicating kiss. When his lips released hers, he slowly smiled. “Let's go home, milady.” She felt him stir against her lower belly. “Aye, milord,” she agreed. “I think we'd better!”

  ****

  DREWE LONA gaped at him. “But you have never taken leave in your entire career!” he protested. “What will you do?” Cree looked at Bridget who was staring at him from the sofa. He winked, a crooked grin on his face, then turned to Lona.

  “Spend time with my lady,” he replied. He turned to Bridget. “Where should we go for the day?” Bridget's face lit up. “Can we visit Rysalia Prime?”

  “We can.”

  Lona slumped against the chair in which he was seated. “Do you know how hard it will be to get a visa for her to visit Rysalia Prime?”

  “I don't care. Just see to it, Lona,” ordered Cree.

  ****

  ADMIRAL DRAE Cree handed the computer printout to his mistress then leaned back in his chair. “I had a hell of a time getting him leave after that re-enforcement, but here it is. It was approved less than an hour ago.” He frowned. “I let Onar know I was extremely displeased with his actions. I let him know Kamerone and I had discussed him having sex with Dr. Dunne.” Dr. Dean arched a brow at him.

  “I didn't lie,” Drae insisted. “Kamerone and I did discuss it.”

  Beryla smiled at her lover then looked down at the leave papers. “I wasn't sure if he would take the bait or not.” Drae snorted. “Beryla, you know gods-be-damned well the man had no choice but to ‘take the bait’ as you so eloquently phrase it.”

  The Director tucked her feet under her on the sofa and sipped her liqueur. “I hate using Bridget like this. She had no idea what we were about when I brought up the subject of home. She didn't know he was listening.”

  “She didn't need to know,” the Admiral replied. “All she had to do was play her part in getting him to Rysalia Prime.” Beryla Dean frowned. “You are sure there is no danger?”

  Drae Cree's smile faltered. “We don't believe so, but just to be on the safe side, we will have a transporter locked on her and waiting should the need arise.”

  “Good,” Dr. Dean breathed. She took another sip of her lemony brew. “Good.” Chapter 17

  SHE HAD taken away the cold; she had taken away the darkness; she had taken away even the deafening silences so that he now existed in sheer, uplifting joy. He knew true happiness for the very first time in his life and it was a knowing that had set his soul free.

  “Catch me!”

  Cree watched her run across the meadow, scattering multi-hued butterflies in her wake. She looked back, teasing him, and he took off after her, zigzagging his way around clumps of brightly colored wildflowers, knee deep in waving, shimmering grass as he ran. He almost caught her, but she darted away, leaving him clutching thin air.

  “Is that the best you can do, Reaper?” she taunted him, sticking out her tongue.

  A sinister smile etched his tanned face and he stopped, watching her enter a copse of trees; saw her peeking at him from the bole of a grandfather oak, jerking back so he wouldn't see her.

  But he did not need to see her. He could sense her. Smell her. Hear the blood pumping strongly through her veins. His visual perceptions had changed so that he could actually ‘see’ the warmth of her as she stood there. She did not know he held such an unfair advantage over her or that he easily could have caught her the moment before if he had really tried. He was faster than her; more cunning; with animal instincts she could not begin to understand.

  ****

  BRIDGET PEEKED out from behind the tree again and the teasing smile slipped from her face. Where had he gone? She was about to slip away when his arm encircled her waist and she was lifted free of the ground.

  “Gotcha!” he whispered in her ear.

  She turned in his arms, then like the wanton he had named her, stood on her tiptoes and plastered her mouth firmly to his, thrusting her tongue past his lips and into the warm recesses of his mouth. Before he knew what she was doing, she wiggled free of his hold and was off running across the meadow again, her skirts flying behind her.

  Cree shook his head, grinned, then went after her, but came up short when he saw her intent. “Don't you do it!” he yelled to her, When she began to pull off her blouse, he started running after her again, increasing his speed. “Bridget, I said no!”

  “I'm hot!”

  He was almost to her when she turned and dove into the fast moving rush of the river.

  “Bridget!” he bellowed. “Get the hell out of there right now!”

  “Come on in!” she called out to him as she backstroked through the water. “It's wonderful.” The warrior shook his head sharply. “No!” he said firmly. “And you come out of there, now!” He put extra emphasis on the last word.

  “There are no boogers in the water,” she threw at him. “I checked with the Ministry of the Interior before we left this morning.” Boogers? Then he realized she must mean dangerous beasts. No, there were no dangerous insects or reptiles in the water; not even rapids or whirlpools or the like. But he wanted her out of the river, nevertheless.

  “Get your ass out of there like I told you, woman!”

  “Join me!” she invited him.

  “I told you no!” he barked
. He scanned the waters, frowning.

  “What are you looking for? Piranha?”

  “Get out, I said!” He stepped closer to the stream and held out his hand. “Come on.” He sighed with relief as she headed toward him. She reached up as though to take his outstretched hand, then drew back.

  “Come and get me!” she challenged, then turned and dove out into the deeper part of the river, disappearing beneath the moving water.

  “Bridget!” He howled, his voice shrill with pure, unadulterated terror. He started forward, stopped, staring at the moving water and let out an animalistic whimper of fear. He raced along the riverbank, scanning the waters for her and saw nothing. He took another step toward the fast-moving water, and then shrieked in frustration. When Bridget's head popped, he jabbed a finger at the ground beside him and his voice shook the leaves from the surrounding trees.

  “Get your gods-be-damned ass back here right this minute, woman, or I swear before all the gods in the megaverse that I will beat you black and blue when I get my hands on you!”

  Bridget's smile vanished. There was a thunderous look on his handsome face; fire glowing brightly in his angry eyes. He was absolutely enraged and she knew it. And not only that, he was shaking like a dog with a chill.

  “All right,” she said, striking out for the bank. When she waded through the shallows and was almost on dry land, she gasped as he snaked out a purposeful hand and yanked her up against him, half carrying her on his hip as he swung her up and well away from the running water.

  “Don't you ever do that again!” he ordered, putting her down, clasping her shoulders in his hard hands and shaking her soundly.

  “Do you understand me, Bridget Dunne?”

  Bridget's head bobbed back and forth until she managed to wrench away from his brutal hold. “I won't,” she said.

  “Promise me, Bridget!” he shouted, reaching for her again, but she moved out of his reach.

  “All right!” she yelled back at him. “I promise!”

  He glared at her for a moment, and then let out a long breath. “Come away from that gods-be-damned water, woman,” he commanded, then turned and headed back toward the meadow.

  Sullenly-for the laughing moments had passed-she followed behind him.