Soul Song (The Soul Mate Tree Book 10)

by Mikea Howard

  She laughed, the joyful utterance echoing through the air. “Which words did I stump you on?”

  “All of them. And why would you tease me with cake? I love cake.”

  “I’ll fetch you some once I’m outta here.” She smiled. “I called you a detective and said I’ll wait patiently while you tell me everythin’.”

  “Okay. I’ll hold you to the cake part. You want to play true or false?”

  “Naturally.”

  Rubbing his hands together, Tim picked what to start with. They had begun playing the game recently, when he’d discovered very little in his searches. Dottie had been understanding and sweet, but he could tell the monotony and gray wore on her hope, therefore he strove to entertain her. He collected tidbits of gossip from her crew and rogues and shared it with her, but interspersed with completely made up stories. She had to guess which were real.

  “Let’s see. Your backup singer, Mary, gave chin music to Charlie for trying to kiss her.”

  “What? She punched him?” Laughing, she said, “True.”

  “Nope.” Tim winked. “I tricked you a bit. Charlie decked Danny for saying he had the hots for Mary.”

  “I knew he liked her. No fair.” She pushed his shoulder.

  The contact, as always, sent a thrill through him, but he played it off. “Okay, okay, what else do I have?” He raised a brow, glancing up while trying to will his manhood down. “The theater is hiring contortionist, dancing sisters in your absence.”

  Raising her hands to her mouth, she giggled. “No way did they nab the sisters. False.”

  “You’re right. They tried, but the girls declined . . . for now. They might still agree to perform for them at another time though.”

  “Really? They are killer-diller. I’ve always wanted ta see ‘em live.”

  He continued with a few more real and imaginary stories, most of which she guessed right. These moments spent with her had rated as some of the best in his life. They had fun, no matter what they did, and considering the backdrop of their relationship . . . he took it as a win. Tim just prayed their time together measured as high for her as it did him. Her apparent pleasure filled him with hope. Despite their differences, they undeniably matched in both their eyes.

  Getting to her feet, Dottie cocked her hip, placing a hand on it. “Let’s play a new game.”

  Tim grinned up at her. “Okay, what do you have in mind?”

  “How ‘bout a race up the tree?”

  “How do I know you haven’t been practicing?”

  “Says the animal shifter.” Dottie smirked. “You have animal strength and I’m a wimpy human. Are you scurred?” Her eyes dared him.

  Rising to his feet, he exaggerated running stretches. “Oh no, I’m not scared. I just prefer it be fair.”

  Her laughter had him sprinting toward her in a mock tackle. He instead lifted her on his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, spinning her around. She pounded on his back, laughing until she ran out of breath.

  Setting her to her feet, he watched as she bent over, panting through her chuckles. He loved her unguarded joy, even more now because he’d caused it. He wanted her always. Dealing with the darkness of his calling, he needed to come home to this ball of light. His glowing beacon in the storm ensuring he’d never be lost.

  Eagles without their mates often burned out. Being called to service increased the odds and the god called Tim earlier than most. Even though he treated it as the honor it was, the strain and stress wore on him. He knew the horned god expressed concern, even though Tim assured him he was fine. He’d been close though.

  His creator and consort goddess, Gaia, agreed not to meddle too much in the lives of their people, which may be why his god remained quiet. They stayed more involved in recent times because change waited on the horizon, but too often it appeared to be a game with them. He knew the divine pair loved him, as well as all their creations, but they were always competing with each other . . . all while denying interference. He’d never try to understand the ways of gods.

  Once Dottie’s breathing settled, he asked, “Okay, ready to race?”

  “Tim, I see yer cheatin’ ways, savvy?”

  “I’d never cheat you, Dottie.”

  “Mmm-hmm, I ain’t buyin’ it, big timer. You absolutely meant ta take my breath away so I couldn’t race.”

  Smirking at her, he raised his hand to one of the lower branches. “You caught me. I do intend to take your breath away, Dottie.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Taking Dottie’s breath away had become a regular occurrence, whether Tim realized it or not. Her shoulders shook as she held in a laugh. Unlike Johnny, mere butterflies fluttering paled to the atom bomb the eagle set off within her.

  Positioning herself beside him, they faced the challenge. She laid the rules on him. “All right, on the count ‘a three it’s every dame”—Dottie winked at Tim—“and cat for ‘em selves. Savvy?”

  “Soitently.”

  She barked out a laugh. “Well, ain’t you becomin’ a dieseldaddy.”

  Bending her knees and dipping into a runner’s stance, he did the same. She started the count. “One . . . Two . . .” She hip checked him as she shouted, “Three.”

  In her periphery, she caught his momentary lack of balance, yet he still reached the tree’s base at the same time. An inkling of guilt passed over her, but she justified it as leveling the playing field. Twelve-year-old Dottie sprang to the surface and she scrambled up the tree, determined to win. Her fingers and toes dug into any nook and cranny they could find. Adrenalin fueled excitement propelled her up the base and into the lower branches, which seemed to reach down for her.

  Like the fearless monkeys she and Gramps used to study at the zoo, she jumped from limb to limb. At times she swore the great purple branches helped lift her as Dottie’s momentum continued. Her mind spun. The sensation of freedom becoming a euphoric drug.

  An urge to proceed higher, up and into the air like a bird, overcame her. Closing her eyes, she recited a prayer she hadn’t sent since her teens. Jerked to a stop, her arms flailed. Glancing down, Dottie observed how branches and leaves entwined about her ankle kept her rooted to the top of the tree.

  A tingling brush on her shoulder and a concerned tone drew her attention.

  “Na-qui-si, are you okay?”

  Stretching on his toes, Tim stood on a stout limb below her, his other hand wrapped tight around the branch above him. His torso leaned forward, arm stretched out to continue their contact. Brows high, the crease between them deep, his gaze scanned every inch of her.

  “I’m ducky. I was cook’n with gas and woulda’ won too, but I suspect the tree’s in cahoots with you.” She reached down to tug at the mess holding her there.

  “You did win, by a mile. Aside from your little trick at the start, your skills outmatched mine. If the oak favored anyone—” He tapped the tip of her nose. In a sterner tone he added, “You scared me, Na-qui-si. You reached the top, but kept going, as though you had no intention of stopping. I couldn’t reach you fast enough. Had you hurt yourself . . . I’m the bird, able to launch from the leaves, not you. Please bear that in mind, and take better care.”

  Having maneuvered her leg free, she swung it over to join the other dangling from her perch. “Why would it have mattered? This isn’t my real body. I could jump down from here and not end up with even a scratch.”

  Tim’s brow furrowed as his nostrils flared. “Not so, Dottie. Although your appearance here will remain pristine, you’re still tied to your corporeal self. End yourself here, and death will meet you there.”

  He firmly gripped her chin, more commanding than he’d behaved up to now, his gaze pinning hers. “I can’t lose you.” Dropping his hand, he cleared his throat. “Not before we bring your two parts together, freeing you from thi
s place.”

  Reaching forward, Dottie signaled for his closed fist. She eased his fingers flat between her palms. “I didn’t know.” You cared this much. Although the fact she could cause her body to take the big sleep resounded as a shocker too. Killing herself . . .

  Nope, not gonna happen. Not with how drawn she’d become to Tim.

  Dottie tugged, pulling him toward her. The silver swirling through his eyes made her mind spin. She pined for this, craved him. Falling forward, their lips met.

  Tim’s arm wrapped around her waist, lowering her onto his branch, forcing her against him. His tongue attacked her mouth like a starving man and she alone could sate his hunger. Their hips grinding against each other, he growled.

  The vibration rattled down her spine. Pawing, she clawed at his back, not able to get enough of him. Never had Dottie desired someone with such intensity, and she pictured merging their spirits. Two ethereal forces twined together, spinning like a tornado.

  Between breaths, Tim demanded, “Down . . . I need you . . . Down.”

  Mindless with passion, her knees relaxed as she kissed his throat, unfastening his buttons, continuing down his chest.

  A low moan escaped him before tightening his grip, stopping her progress half way. “No. As much as I like where this is going, that’s not what I meant. Ground. Get on the ground so I’m able to take you . . . safely. Besides, you won the race and the prize, not the other way around.” Pulling her back up, he placed one more toe-curling smack on her kisser.

  They made their way to the ground faster than their journey up. Dottie squealed in delight when Tim swept her off her feet. She threw her arms around his neck as he carried her to a soft, moss laden spot, hopefully to make love to her.

  Make love ta me? Had she accepted her affection for him? The notion of it sent tingles over the surface of her skin. Yes, I love him.

  Squatting, he laid Dottie on the cushioned ground. As she pulled her arms away from his nape, Tim grasped her wrists. A sensual smile curled at the corners of his oh-so-delicious mouth as he guided her arms high above her head.

  Her hands made contact with something. Like a blind woman, she ran her fingertips over the unknown object’s surface. Rough, yet smooth in spots, the cylindrical item came up from the soil.

  Tim hovered next to her ear. “Hang onto the root, and don’t let go. The kind of pleasure I’m about to gift you requires you stay put.” His teeth grazed her lobe as he retreated.

  Dottie craned her head, trying to figure out what he planned to do. His warm breath had caused goosebumps to cover every inch of her body. Raised nipples brushing against fabric ignited the sensation of sparks deep between her legs. When Tim wrapped his palms tight around her ankles, electrical pops turned into an intense throbbing at her core.

  “Bend your knees for me, Na-qui-si.”

  She brought them up as he eased her feet wide and back toward her. The silk of her gown slid down to pool across her hips and drape between her legs. Not for long, though. Working it up to her waist, Tim brushed his thumbs across the crotch of her panties, applying light pressure on her nub. A gasp escaped her. She pushed her hips into the earth, biting her bottom lip, desperate to retain control.

  Lying on his stomach, Tim nestled his face between her thighs. He nuzzled the ghostly inner flesh, depositing a peck against her skin. Locking gazes with her, he moved his mouth to her lower petals. The tip of his tongue swirled over the cotton as his lips firmed, deepening his intimate contact.

  Dottie’s mind spun, unable to land a coherent thought. Never had she come across such an erotic kiss. Rocking her core against him, she hungered for the barrier between them removed.

  Panting, she demanded, “Off, take ‘em off now.”

  Tim inhaled, the cool air passing over the fire he’d created. Maneuvering himself into a seated position, he eased the lace obstacle down, working it over each foot, then tossing it aside. Resuming his original position, he slid his palms under her hips, cupping her cheeks. His thumbs grazed a path from their curves up to spread her wide.

  As though the tree sighed, a gentle breeze washed from its base to swim under her leg and over her exposed opening. Dottie threw her head back. The in-between must be in cahoots with him, driving her desires higher than ever. The purple leaves waved lazily above her, mirroring the speed of Tim’s caress.

  Her gaze snapped down to the top of his head as he took a long leisurely lick over her pulsing clitoris. Suckling, he drew the wanton peak in deep.

  Lightning shot from her sensitive spot, straight through her body, and out her fingertips.

  Di mi! What was that?

  Her gasp seemed to be his cue. Like a starving animal, he devoured her, lapping, sucking, and biting at her flesh. Pulling one of his hands free, Tim drove a finger deep inside her. Working the digit in and out, he kept his talented mouth on her. The heady combination proved to be too much as her pleasure swiftly mounted.

  Arching her back, Dottie reached down and grasped fistfuls of his hair, tugging his mouth more firmly against her. She rolled her hips in a frenzy of passion. A powerful euphoria washed over her and she feared her head would pop. She let out a low moan which quickly morphed into a loud cry.

  Dottie flew apart, orgasming harder than she’d even known possible. Her upper body thrashed as Tim continued to work her with his mouth. She tugged at his scalp, too out of breath to beg him to stop.

  He slowed, but still didn’t cease. Switching to long, lingering laps, he thrust deep, licking her core from bottom to top. Sighing, he finally raised his head, giving her a satisfied, glossy grin.

  Combing her fingers through his hair, her cheeks ached with a similar smile. In her twenty-three years of life, she’d never imagined learning something new. What Tim did between her legs introduced a fresh ride, for sure.

  He shifted, using her abdomen for a pillow as she played her fingertips along his defined cheekbone. His pure heritage, obvious in his features, made her ponder her own.

  Would he still desire her if he learned of her mixed family? Even though it didn’t garner as much hate as before the Diesel War, there still existed the few who found anything but pure blooded . . . anything at all, despicable.

  Chapter 6

  With only a few buildings left, Tim approached the smallest one, leaning against the side. He expected it would be a fast search. After a couple rogues passed the corner, he snuck to the front. Grasping the doorknob, he found it locked. His brow arched. None of the structures where he’d tried to locate her had been locked.

  The click of shoes approaching had him scurrying off to the side again. Taking a deep breath, Tim wondered if they’d keep her in a locked building. God’s antlers, why would they possibly lock any door, with the whole compound already guarded like a fortress? They haven’t treated anything else this important, and I’ve seen some stuff I’m sure they’d prefer hidden. Is it for Dottie, or some other Animal Gang dealings?

  Unsure if it was a positive sign, he had to break in to know. Circling the building, Tim checked for an open window. Height didn’t matter, he could fly to any opening. When nothing presented itself, he shifted, lofting himself to the top.

  Spying the area, Tim located roof access. Unfortunately, or possibly fortuitously, a rogue stood up there smoking a cigarette. Remaining out of sight and tamping down his scent, Tim moved in as close to the door as he could.

  Studying the ash of the man’s smoke, he waited as the cherry burned down with every inhale. When the embers finally hit the filter and it dropped to the gravel coated roof, Tim readied himself.

  The rogue slid an odd hole-punched card into a slot above the knob, swung the door open, and disappeared on the other side. Tim dropped a talon down to hold the entry ajar. Expecting the rogue to respond to the lack of the steel banging shut, he waited.

  When no
response came, he shifted back to human form. Unlike Weres, Tim didn’t have to be concerned about nakedness since Shifter’s clothes came with them. For some reason, the magic of Shifter breeds had that capability. He expected it had to do with size transformation, but he rarely questioned it. As an eagle, his shifts simply happened, with all their benefits and hindrances.

  Sneaking into the top of the stairwell, he leaned over the banister, holding back a curse. The smaller building turned out to be more than met the eye on every front. Considering the visible levels outside, it had to have an additional six stories below the ground.

  I should’ve expected it on an old military base. Gaia’s teats, why didn’t I start here?

  Heading down the first flight, he huffed, readying himself for a long day of searching. If he could bring Dottie good news, it would be worth it . . . but if all his legwork only provided AG secrets he didn’t care for, he’d be ruffled.

  He searched the level, growing hopeful when he entered the first room. A male in a hospital bed with a breathing apparatus rested against the opposite wall. The next one provided another ward-like room, but Dottie wasn’t there either.

  He continued, moving from room to room, but didn’t find her among the patients. What in the god’s name are they all doing here?

  He took the stairs down another level and peeked out. More security, but it hardly affected his search. His songbird wasn’t on the next floor either, but for the first time in days, he expected to find her.

  Security grew heavier with each floor, but it wasn’t anything Tim couldn’t maneuver around . . . the eagle’s hidden skill being covert operations. He specialized in the call of the horned god, working in the in-between, but he never lacked in his other skills. It all came naturally for him. It wasn’t until he reached the fifth floor, at least two floors below ground level, when he saw her.