Lies That Blind

by Diana Rose Wilson

  “Cooking for you. What are you doing up? You need to rest.”

  “I smell bacon.” His whine was too adorable. He watched her with awed delight.

  So much stood between them. There was a lot she needed to say and the words jammed in her throat as she stared at him. Only the popping bacon pulled her from her introspection.

  “I…uh—” She turned to the cooking and tried to form the right words. “That is, you’re not obligated to stay if you need to go. I will need a ride back to my car though. I—”

  Coming up behind her, he settled his big hands on her hips. He laid his cheek on her shoulder. “Can I stay instead?” he asked sweetly in a soft purr that melted her heart.

  “Yes.” She offered him the bite of bacon, feeding it to him. “I’m sorry. I really am sorry for leaving you out. I’m not used to have a whole clan behind me. I handle my problems on my own.”

  “Tribe.” He spoke only after nibbling food from her fingers with a weak attempt to nip her in the process. “Not clan. I wasn’t mad at you, Frankie. Did you read my note?”

  “I did. And the knight is beautiful. Thank you.”

  “Thank you. For saving me.” His arms slid around her stomach, palms flush to her. One along her stomach, the other slipped up to cover her heart.

  The thrill of the contact was both sexual and acutely intimate. She felt the powerful thrum of their connection, white-hot, and she blushed.

  “I don’t let anyone fuck with my champion,” she whispered, leaning into his warmth. “That’s my job.”

  “You are a very, very powerful sage, Frankie Welton.” His cheek nuzzled into her.

  “I don’t know what that is. You are going to make me burn breakfast,” she growled when his hands balled into fists against her clothing.

  “It is very good. Sage is one of our kind who uses ethereal talents.” He kissed her shoulder and up her neck. “Breakfast later. I want you to burn me instead.”

  “I am included in your kind now? This is new.” She smiled with pleasure. “We need to eat.” Before he could continue his teasing, she twisted out of his arms and used the spatula to swat him. “Food first. Then I will brand the living hell out of you.”

  He blushed and ducked his head, moving to the other side of the bar to sit. “My bigoted friends and family are going to have a rude awakening. Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, when I changed, you could have said—”

  “I didn’t know,” she answered, filling a glass of the berry juice and a second with water for him.

  When she returned to her cooking, he drained both glasses. Only then did he speak. “You must have just come into your talent,” he mused and stared at her. “Shit.” His gaze softened. “No training and you just did that. Fuck, Welton.” He pressed his fist to his chest.

  “Right?” Frankie lifted her shoulders. “I understand why you want to keep this secret. I don’t want to share this with anyone either.”

  The smile he fixed on her was as possessive as she felt toward him. The echoing pulse shared between them. “That is why we give the tokens. The salute. It’s a way to know who trusts you or telling someone you trust them.”

  “Or you just go leaping into pussycat form in the street.”

  “I will have to answer for that. Believe me.” He frowned. “Those knives. We need to tell my parents and my Grammy about them.”

  “I’ll have to tell what I did to Joey. Fuck. Joey. Do you know him? How long he worked for Amy?”

  “I don’t really know. We can ask Sophia.”

  “No,” Frankie said firmly. “I am not sharing this with any of my co-workers. None of them are in my circle of trust.”

  The realization that she didn’t trust his friends hung heavily as she plated the food. It was a simple scramble with vegetables, new potatoes and eggs with cheese melted on top. No frills.

  Like her.

  “I respect your wishes and agree with you, Frankie,” Christopher said at last. “Gods, I don’t think I’ve ever been on this side of the secret with my family.”

  “You will let me decide who to tell? And when?”

  He nodded, pulling the plate closer. “‘Welton honor, Welton responsibility, Welton choice’,” he quoted, winking at her and nibbling on bacon. “Not my first rodeo.”

  They ate in silence, each in desperate need of food after the adventures of the previous day. When she slid the last of the bacon onto his plate, she asked, “How do I let people know? Like your mom and dad.”

  “You’ll need a token. The tokens are selected by your talent and are a symbol of them. I am a spirit-beast, my talent is to slip my form which is symbolized by the knight. The token I selected is a knight on horseback. Others pick different variations on the theme.

  “Sages, those who have talent to see and use energies are symbolized as rooks. They have tokens with castles or fortresses.”

  “Sages? Use magic?” she asked it very carefully, reminding herself what she’d done and felt and seen.

  Not crazy. Right?

  “Yes. Usually, it is for guarding and protecting. Balancing energies is fairly common. Nothing as flashy as fireballs or lightning storms. That’s old power that hasn’t survived to this modern age.” He looked at her and then cleared his throat. “Nothing like what you pulled out of your, um…hat. That was very old, powerful sagecraft, Frankie.”

  When she didn’t say anything, he reached out and slid his fingers through hers. “Then, there are people who can do both. They are both sage and spirit-beast. It is very rare. Those people are usually leaders to the Tribe. There are male and female aspects, and, to be honest, I can count on my hands the number of people who can do that. Those people use the tokens of king and queen.”

  She nodded her understanding. “And pawns are just normal?”

  He inclined his head. “Right. And finally, there are those who are both sage, spirit-beast and something else. Like a communion with nature. Making flowers bloom. Manipulating earth, water, fire or wind. Those people usually hold more of a spiritual place with the Tribe and they have the symbol of bishop. But we call them councilor, messenger, or runner. They are so rare, that I know of only two and Amy was one of them.”

  Her heart swelled in her ribs at this information. Amy had been a spiritual adviser. No wonder people were looking at Frankie so expectantly. Amy’s chosen agent indeed. All the knight and rook tokens at the bar, those were the people who shared their secret with Amy.

  “How do I know what I am?” She leaned into him, relieved when he wrapped her in his arms and the blanket, cuddling her into the plush heat of his body. The information was a lot to process.

  “People can change over time. Like yourself, you came into your talent later. Some people take the risk and dabble in energies and rituals to evoke their gifts.

  “I came into mine very early after I nearly drowned and Mambo hauled me out of the surf. So, trauma can trigger it. Some people believe it’s all a matter of bloodlines and that they are the single most important thing in the world. That way of thinking is bigoted.

  “It invites bad blood between rooks and knights, and, well, it creates the mentality that people who don’t have abilities are less, or crippled somehow. They don’t want to be friends with people without talent. As though they are beneath them.”

  “Oh, I got that loud and clear.”

  “Some people have very sharp focus on current ability, not on potential. You had a bad headache at the wake?”

  She winced at the memory. “Yeah. It seemed as though people were scratching around in my head sometimes. Particularly your Uncle Tommy.”

  “That is the handshake. It should not be an intrusive search but most people are not informed. They don’t understand, and who are you going to tell? It should be…like this—”

  He met her eyes, and she almost didn’t sense the respectful little touch, except for the warmth that tingled through her before slipping away.

  “Oh.” Her lips curved into a dreamy smile. “What do
I do back?”

  “Well, you either throw up your walls and slap the fuck out of them, which you should do if a stranger goes scratching around, or you can reach back. Carefully. You’re not trying to wrestle them.”

  “Oh, but I want to,” she teased and motioned for him to try again. This time when she sensed that faint pressure, she tried to extend back, but the white-fire inside her seemed too unwieldy. “I don’t know…I’m worried I’ll hurt you.”

  “Frankie,” he purred out her name. “Sweet Fire Goddess, I felt you last night. Come along. You must try it or you will grow afraid of it. You won’t be able to use it when you need it.”

  Again, they tried and she brought up that sizzling hot energy and the sent it forward. It bounded to greet his touch, white and misty, and she realized it wasn’t a hound at all but a huge feline. It nudged in against him, illuminating him. Christopher. All his kindness and warm strength bared to her. There, too, was his shadowy feline form waiting patiently to be embraced.

  “Ooh,” she whispered.

  At the same time, he gasped, “Gods.” His eyes were wide with shock as his mouth dropped open. “Frankie, I see you. Oh fuck!”

  “I’m sorry.” She yanked the energy back and the white, fizzing heat cuddled back into her, making her new skin ache. “See, I shouldn’t have—”

  “No. Frankie, wait.” He reached for her, laughing. “Oh, my Gods. My Gods! You…you’re hiding.” He stared at her. “How did you…?” He searched her face and then her body and his brows drew together. “Oh. Oh, Frankie.” His voice was a pleased little growl.

  “All right, you don’t get to use that tone unless I’m touching your cock.” Her hand caught his, their fingers twining together.

  “I have never seen anything like that.” He leaned in and kissed her very softly on the lips. “Can I try something?”

  She curled toward him, not sure how much focus she was going to have if he kept kissing her. “Maybe. Are you going to explain why you looked like you were going to piss yourself?”

  “I saw you. It was like you took the mirror away and I could see in. I…did not expect the full magnificence of you.” He stroked along her spine and up her shoulder blade, squeezing. The sensation of his thumb sweeping back and forth along her tight shoulders felt amazing.

  “Right.” She chewed the inside of her cheek, pleased he liked whatever he saw, but doubtful it could have been so spectacular.

  When his eyes met hers again it wasn’t with a faint tingle. This time there was pressure but nothing painful like at the wake. His nose crinkled.

  “C’mon, you can do better than that.” She pushed back toward him, bringing up the familiar wall.

  She sensed him trying harder but she drew the shadowy barrier and carefully closed him out. Oh, why hadn’t she done that with Tommy-Tom? Next time. Oh yes. No one was going to scratch around inside her without asking.

  He frowned. “How did you…?”

  “Ellen and Frank always warned me not to let anyone see me. They called it hide and seek. Except I was always hiding. Even my trainer, Dave, taught me how to keep people away.” She lifted her shoulders. “He said I might hurt people if I’m not careful. I know how to hide.”

  “Oh, Frankie.” He pulled her closer and she went willingly, wrapping her arms around him. “No more hiding from me.” His eyes twinkled. “I want to see you again.”

  “No. You looked terrified.”

  “You should have seen your face when I changed,” he said, eyebrow arching up. “Let down your walls, beautiful. Come out!” With a hand, he crooked a finger toward her, playful and eager.

  “All right.”

  Easier said than done. Under the weight of his enthusiastic and expectant look, she didn’t know exactly what to do.

  Intuition was highly amused by her floundering and didn’t bother offering assistance. She seemed like a colt taking first steps.

  Finally, Christopher’s expression softened. “Try like this,” he whispered.

  The intensity of the metal touch with him touched her as it had before and she carefully extended the white-fire toward him. Like the previous attempt, the energy surged forward, delighted at the familiar reunion with Christopher. Mine. Mine. Mine.

  His eyes went wide as he regarded her outside her hiding spot. She wanted to shield and tuck herself away again. There were too many emotions running across his features, and she wasn’t sure what he thought.

  “Don’t,” he whispered when she started to draw back. “It’s okay. We’re both safe.”

  “What do you see?” she asked quietly. Part of her was afraid to know exactly what he saw.

  “Heaven.” He smiled at her. “What are you hiding from exactly?” he asked and slid his hand around her and stroked up her back, all the while murmuring that everything was okay. It was awe and surprise, not fear—at least she hoped. He pushed her shirt up her spine and his strong bare fingers caressed the exposed skin.

  “I don’t know. Oh! What are you doing?” She gasped at the foreign sensation of him stroking her back. Her eyes rolled closed. “Ugh. Fuck. That is so nice.”

  “I’m touching you. You’ve never been touched here?” His fingers pet along her skin in the more intimate way she’d ever been touched. “So soft.” He smiled at her dreamily.

  “No. Oh. You can do this forever.”

  He brushed his fingers against her lightly, sending shivery little tingles across her shoulders all the way down to her fingertips in an erotic little tremble. “Never. Ever. Stopping.” He promised her.

  She could see his shadowy feline self, tangling with her white-fire, a play of shadows and starlight with the sun. She knew all she needed to do was embrace it and she too could run wild. Except that someone might see her. What if they found her? Who were they? The instinct to hide was so strong. Her heart began to hammer.

  “Shhh. Stay with me, Frankie,” Christopher whispered to her and his lips kissed hers, soft and sweet. “We’re in this together. I won’t let you fall.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Stop worrying about that.” He chuckled, squeezing her shoulder blade. The strange sensation of being gripped there made her shoulders flex. She stretched and the muscles responded, aching as if she had never used them. Long-abandoned joints and tendons slowly twitched to wakefulness as bits of the dream teased the back of her mind.

  Air whispered around her and he gasped as the whole house lit up as though she were putting off an incandescent light.

  She glanced over her shoulder and let out a startled cry. Her back was on fire. Reflexively, she drew up the wall and slammed it in place. The purring roar of the white-energy swooped around her, crackling brighter than ever, ready to be commanded. Protection swirled around her, diamond-hard and now super-heated.

  “Ow,” Christopher grunted and then roared with laughter. “Okay. You don’t want to hurt me? Don’t throw the wall at me like that.” He wrapped her tight in his arms and lifted her against him. Still chuckling, he carried her to the couch.

  “I’m burning,” she cried.

  “You’re not burning.” He laughed again when she swatted at him.

  “Stop laughing at me.” Anger flickered up, catching onto the energy so eager to be put to the task.

  “Not…ow. Laughing. Okay. Frankie. Easy.” He fell back into the nest of blankets, pulling her onto him, but then held up his hands, showing her his palm. “Mercy!” He smiled brilliantly at her. “Gods above and all the devils. You are amazing. Does your back hurt?”

  She straddled his naked stomach. A pink scar was all that remained of the wound he’d earned during his fight in the street. For a moment, she thought about the question. It didn’t hurt, but she could smell fire and ozone. With an effort, she struggled, pulling the energies back around her.

  When she didn’t say anything, he relaxed under her. “You are fine, Frankie. Just take some time to process what’s going on, Hot Wings.” He beamed up at her.

  “That�
�s not funny,” she scolded.

  “Oh, it really is,” he assured her.

  Leaning down, she cupped his face and kissed him. She only meant for it to be a quick, hard kiss, but the moment his lips parted under hers, her resolve snapped.

  Her tongue darted forward to meet his, wrestling together. His fingers slid through her curls, tangling and gripping to prevent her escape.

  She tangled her fingers in his lush chest hair and then slid lower. Lower. Across the new scar but his hold on her hair prevented her from slipping down more.

  So, she bit his lower lip. He snarled in pleasure, bowing beneath her. His muscles tightened between her thighs and when he lifted his hips, rocking forward, she could feel his cock nuzzling against the cleft of her ass.

  The kiss broke with both of them gasping, mouths tingling from the force of the kiss. “I want to taste you,” she whispered.

  He whimpered very softly, eyelids heavily drifting over his wild green gaze, “Fuck, Sunkist.” He trembled, his hold loosening on her hair so she could slide down his body and unfasten his slacks and push them over his hips.

  He made a small, trapped sound in his throat when her fingers wrapped around his cock. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he watched her with glazed eyes. In her grip, he was hard and smooth, arching upward with pulse thrumming through the straining flesh.

  “I’ve never done this before,” she whispered.

  “I haven’t either,” he admitted and his cheeks darkened with a blush. At her expression of disbelief, he blushed even deeper.

  She kissed his stomach and his muscles tightened. Her kisses trailed across to his hip bones, nuzzling and kissing the cooler skin around the sun tattoo.

  “Oh fuck,” he groaned when she licked the place, and in her hand his cock throbbed, growing even harder in her grip.

  She looked up and met his hungry eyes and knew in her heart this was new for both of them. “Tell me what you like.” When her lips kissed around the base of his cock, he sucked in a sharp breath and groaned.

  “I like everything you do. Oh, Frankie. Oh, fuck.” He tightened his hold on her hair, shuddering under her when her tongue lapped along his heavy balls.