"By the way," she continued wrenching his attention back from his own reverie, "if you try it again you may not find me so cooperative. If I respond at all, it won't be so quickly. Or so sweetly." She punctuated that with a smile that was sweeter than sugar. He wanted to grab her with both hands and kiss that provocative, taunting smile off her face and replace it with an expression of desire - for him - like the one he had seen just before he woke up.
And wanting that so much made him even angrier. And more confused.
Storm didn't know if that was a threat, but, at the least, proclaiming that she would not be quick, cooperative, or sweet sounded like a promise of retaliation. He stared dumbly while she turned and walked away...again... taking with her his gaze firmly riveted on the graceful roll her hips gave that pretty, dark print skirt. The fact that she was so calm, so unruffled and so in command somehow cranked his agitation higher which was a feat because, at the moment, he was pretty damn agitated.
He stood in the hallway not knowing what to do next. That had to be another first. He was wondering if that's what people mean by indecision. Uncertainty didn't sit well with him. He was very decided about the fact that he didn't like how indecision feels. At all.
When he arrived at the War Room a few minutes later, Litha was stirring coffee and chatting with Elora about what colors are best for nurseries. She studiously avoided acknowledging his presence for the rest of the day. Not so much as a glance. He knew because he rarely took his eyes away from her.
Litha was undeniably distracted, her attention divided between the meeting and the exchange she'd just had with Storm. She alternately scolded and berated herself for having gone and fallen for a tall, outrageously handsome knight without knowing anything about him. Other than that he was tall, outrageously handsome, and surrounded by a magnetic field that almost pulled her off her feet when in his presence. What she hadn't known about him were the little things like, for instance, that he's rude with a nasty mean streak, and, worse, clearly prejudiced toward witches.
Not to mention that he was way out of touch with his own feelings. Fine, then. Let him just sit and stew in his own poisoned pile of denial. Alone! Let him stay there until he figured out that he was on the wrong side of his own argument. She had never seen a man more in need of being put in time out.
It would be hard to imagine how she could have picked a guy who was more aggravating or less self-aware. Not to mention the fact that he had been the catalyst that caused her emotions to spike so far out of control with jealousy that she morphed into a firestarter for craps' sake.
She knew she couldn't be burned like other people, but had no idea that sufficient emotional turmoil would generate actual flame in her hands. Now, in addition to everything else, she was afraid that, if The Order found out, she'd be reclassified as dangerous. Oddly enough, no one ever questioned how the fire in the pub had started. Perhaps they were too caught up in the elf versus fae drama.
Late that night, when it would be early morning on the Pacific coast, she had called home and asked Cufay if he had any previous indication of her fire-starting. He was surprised, but didn't seem the least worried saying he knew she would work it out.
So adding to the list of Storm's undesirable qualities of being mean, rude, and hostile to witches, he was a trigger for a heretofore-unknown ability that threatened the safety of persons, property, and perhaps even Litha's own future and freedom.
Maybe he was right. Truncating the highly unconventional beginnings of a relationship that wouldn't work for either of them was the best thing to do. Better now than later.
B Team came to dinner in their dress uniforms. Like her teammates, Elora wore the black sileather pants, black long sleeve knit shirt, Black Watch tartan sash and Black Swan pin. She was surprised by how many people were in attendance.
They had allowed Aelsong to come since she was officially employed by The Order and was the inductee's sister. Only one other honoree was still living and, at eighty-seven, said he wouldn't have missed it. The royal family had sent the prince as their representative.
When they removed the silk draping from Ram's portrait, Elora didn't even try to stop big tears from rushing down her cheeks and falling on the wool sash of her dress uniform. He looked exactly as he had that Yuletide day she arrived at the cottage in New Forest with his hair pulled back behind his ears, in hunting costume, and his Black Watch Tartan gathered around his shoulders. The artist was as masterful as Rembrandt. The portrait, beautiful beyond description with mere words, but not nearly so beautiful as the elf, himself. He beamed as she pressed her lips to his ear and told him there never had lived a male more glorious.
It hadn't escaped Elora's notice that Prince Duff Torquil and Princess Aelsong Hawking continually stole furtive glances at one another throughout the ceremony. She was hoping it had escaped the attention of everyone else.
As inductee, Ram was toasted with champagne and asked to personally speak to everyone in attendance. While he was busy, Elora saw an opportunity to have a word with the prince who was, in his own right, handsome as any fairytale ever imagined in his kilt which was probably his uniform for official state occasions.
She knew she might have only a couple of moments to talk without being overheard.
"Your highness," she began, "I'm Elora Laiken, proud spouse of the honoree."
Up close she could see that the dark blue in his eyes was coupled with shades of violet. They were so unusual she may have stared just a second too long.
With a smile he said, "I well remember seein' you in the pub last night."
"Was that just last night?" She looked genuinely surprised and he laughed. "Is it difficult for you being here to honor an elf?"
The prince's smile didn't falter, but he seemed to be trying to judge what she might be after. "No' at all, madam. Like many of my contemporaries, I believe 'tis time to put our differences aside. So far as I can tell, it serves no constructive purpose. In short, 'tis silly to continue for the sake of continuin'. But, if I see that in a headline on the morrow claimin' to quote me, I will deny it 'til the Highlands look level."
"I'm pleased to hear your progressive views on the subject. I vow your secret is safe with me though I must add that, if everyone keeps their more abrasive views secret, nothing ever changes."
The prince pursed his lips and nodded. "A good point and well said."
"These contemporaries who share your views were not with you at the pub."
"'Tis true. You caught me sneakin' out on my miscreant night." Elora had to laugh. "Boys from school who can be a little rough after a few pints."
The young prince had an engaging way about him. "It's been very nice to have this talk. I will try to get my husband to reexamine his position on the feud." The prince's lips twitched when she said the word feud. He was thinking that only an outsider could so minimize the past thousand years of elf and fae at war with each other. "And I will also work on my esteemed brother-in-law from the inside."
"Esteemed. A cautious compliment I would say." Torquil's eyes twinkled.
Elora laughed. "You've met him?"
The prince shook his head slightly. "Certainly no'. Let us say I have heard he is no'... a lot of laughs." They both shared a chuckle at the expense of the King of Ireland.
"Perhaps you could begin to ease your own reservations about the status quo into the discussion in your household as well?'
"'Tis a good plan and certainly I enjoy a conspiracy as much as the next prince, but my elders are no' showin' signs of bein' moved either in their political views or away from the throne. 'Twill likely be a long time fore I am king.
"If I may ask, though, what is your mate's position on this question?"
"He's never spelled it out as such, but, the night I first met him, he turned red in the face and turned over a chair at dinner because he thought I was calling him a fairy."
The prince looked serious. "Were you?"
She smiled. "It was an error of innocence. I com
e from a culture where everyone knows a collection of stories by the name fairytales. Something about that was mentioned."
"I see. And he was much offended."
Elora nodded. "Well, one step at a time then?"
"Always a sound policy."
"Meanwhile, do you think I can trust that my young sister-in-law will be safe in your country? She's the one over there who could almost challenge my husband for good looks."
The prince regarded her with amusement as if to say, "I know that you know and you know that I know. The question is does she know that you know what I know?"
"Fae's gods I pray 'tis so and 'tis no' said casually." He looked past Elora to where Aelsong was talking to guests and stealing glances at him. Sensing that Elora might prove to be a valuable and trusted ally, he leaned a little closer to her. "'Tis most unfortunate that I can no' see to it personally. Tragically so, as a matter of fact. One of the problems with your traditional approach to diplomatic relations is that diplomacy takes a very long time."
"Forgive me for saying that is a youthfully impatient remark, your highness."
"Oh, aye," he laughed. "And how old be you, Madam?"
She patted her tummy and smiled. "Old enough to be someone's mother. Soon."
"Congratulations to you and the hero of the hour."
"Of the millennium," she corrected.
"So. 'Tis a love match then." He grinned and cast a glance in Aelsong's direction without realizing he had paired the phrase 'love match' with a need to look her way.
At the same time, Elora saw that her conversation with the prince had drawn Ram's attention and that he was regarding her with distinct curiosity. Not wanting to press her luck, she said good night to Duff Torquil who stopped her long enough to shake her hand as he palmed off a card with his personal number on it. "Let us no' lose touch as the Americans say."
Elora walked away wondering where she could put that card. She thought about her bra and then laughed to herself. Had she seriously entertained the idea, even for a millisecond, that her bra might be a safe place to hide something from Ram? She walked straight to Kay and told him she needed him to keep something for her, no questions asked. As she knew he would, he pocketed the card looking straight ahead, no questions asked.
Gods. She loved Bad Company.
"Later," she said and hurried to her mate's side smiling brightly. When she reached him, she pressed herself tightly into his side and whispered behind his ear. "I'm so proud to be your partner."
Storm lay in bed looking at the patterns the lights from the crag made on the walls and ceilings examining his feelings. He wanted to end the strange series of interactions with Litha Brandywine that had begun with him turning to her and blurting out, "You smell like a rainstorm." As if he had Tourettes for gods' sakes.
She hadn't made eye contact with him since he'd gone out of his way to insult her which was a good thing. Exactly the result he wanted. With every intention of bud nipping, he could not have made it any more clear that he was not interested in a relationship.
What happened with Elora still felt like an open wound and it was one that he didn't expect would ever heal. The last - the very last - thing he wanted or needed was complications of the feminine variety. The best case is that it leads to confusion and irritation, as two days of green-eyed witch had just born out. The worst case is that it leads to feelings of bleak emptiness coupled with fistfuls of hopelessness.
He wanted nothing more to do with that damn, blasted witch. He was absolutely sure of it.
So why was he lying there with edgy, tingly, feelings of anticipation about a possible repeat dream encounter? You can do what you truly wish.
At some point during the night Storm was lucid dreaming, the surreal experience of knowing he was dreaming while at the same time feeling the distinctly different quality of waking reality. In his dream he sat up in bed and stared at the spot where Litha had materialized before. He waited, but there was no shimmer in the air and no romantic white nightgown.
He knew he'd called out to her. Not with words. It was involuntary like a muscle reflex, but of a spiritual nature. The part of him that his dream self represented felt sad that there was no response. He wanted to take the witch in his hands, kiss her again, and hold on longer this time. He wanted her warmth and softness pressed against him. He wanted the silky friction of his skin moving across hers. He wanted to see those red lips part in welcome.
Storm woke with a start and, before the dream faded like smoke, he knew he had called her, knew also that she had heard, and that she stayed away. He sat on the side of the bed and asked himself, for the umpteenth time, what the fuck he was doing.
One thing was for sure. This was different. Elora had never made him feel out of sync and off kilter, like he didn't know whether he was going or coming. Yeah. Deep and wide.
***
CHAPTER 11
Ram and Elora woke to pounding on the door of their suite. Blackie stood at the door alternately barking warnings and snarling about the disturbance while Ram pulled on a robe. He left Elora sitting up in bed and hurried to answer. She heard Storm's voice, understood the sense of urgency, but couldn't make out what was being said. Whatever was the matter, she knew she'd better get up and get moving. She was pulling on her robe when Ram came in.
"Storm's here. Best come and hear the news together."
Elora said she'd be right there. She hurried to the bathroom, used the facilities, and splashed a little water in her face. When she emerged from the bedroom, she was looking into two very familiar, but unusually grave faces.
"What's happened?"
"Katrina is missing." Storm looked between the two of them.
"What? How do you know?" Elora asked. When receiving shocking news, people often respond with questions that are not well thought out.
"She went downstairs at the hotel in London to cash a traveler's check and didn't come back. There's no record of a transaction at the cashier's desk and nobody at the hotel saw or heard anything unusual."
"Where's Kay?"
"Getting ready to go to London. A company plane is landing in an hour. They have to refuel then they'll be ready to fly south. I'm going with him. Right now Tvelgar is waiting for us in his outer office ready with whatever resources we need."
"Song." Ram was moving toward the bedroom to jerk on some clothes. "We need Aelsong."
Storm looked at Elora.
"He's right. She's marvelously gifted. If she can get a fix on this situation, she can tell us everything we need to know right now. We'll get her and meet you downstairs in Simon's office."
Storm opened the door to leave.
"Storm?" He stopped with his back to her and didn't turn around. "I'm sure it goes without saying. Ram and I are on that plane, too." He nodded and let the door close behind him.
Elora called Glen on the phone. Even though he was next door, she thought that was a better way to wake him. She let him know that there was an emergency and that he needed to care for Blackie until further notice.
Ram was pulling on a shirt. He just gave her a look that said, "Hope this works."
Elora took a two-minute shower then pulled on working clothes which, for her, meant stretch pants, riding heel boots, and a long sleeve, silk weave shirt that would be comfortable to wear for days without changing if necessary. She combed out wet hair, dabbed on lip balm in lieu of makeup, and threw a leather bag with jacket and toothbrush over her shoulder while Ram was letting Glen inside.
Simon Tvelgar's outer office was sized like a medium hotel lobby with three seating areas and a large conference table by the windows. It was decorated impeccably and featured some items that were clearly priceless, such as the museum quality tapestries decorating two walls.
Ram, Elora, and Song arrived before Storm and Kay and were surprised to see Litha waiting. Tvelgar had asked for her assistance anticipating how useful her tracking abilities could be in a situation like this.
Ram asked Aelsong if she w
anted anything before going to the bar to draw a coffee for himself and a hot cocoa for his mate. Elora thanked Litha for getting there so quickly and assured her that they would be grateful for any help they could get. Baka straggled in without saying a word and took a seat out of the way in a far corner. Elora wondered who called him, but, whoever it was, she was glad for it because she was oddly grounded by his presence.
Kay walked in looking gray as death and anxious as hell. Storm showed a momentary flicker of surprise to see Litha, but said nothing.
Without further exchange, Ram told Aelsong to say what she needed from them.
She looked around, chose a large, overstuffed chair with arms and sat in it. She told the little assembly to choose their places and get comfortable because she was going to need them to be still and quiet.
While everyone was finding a seat, Song said that she had a pretty good chance of picking up something since she had met Katrina and spent time with her recently. She said she was ready to begin and everyone went statue still.
Song closed her eyes, relaxed her shoulders, and started to take three long, deep breaths in preparation. On the second breath her eyelids began to move. When she got mid way through the third inhalation, her breath suddenly caught in a way that looked painful. Her eyelids moved faster and she didn't seem to be breathing at all. Suddenly her head swiveled on her shoulders coming to rest facing Litha. When her eyes flew open there was accusation plainly written there.
Kay stood. "What is it, Song? Tell me now!"
Song dragged her gaze away from Litha and looked at Kay. "Nothin' can be gained from goin' to London, Kay. She is no' here."
When Song glanced at Litha again, Elora gave Ram a pointed look to say, "What is that about?"
"What do you mean 'not here'? Where the hell is she?" Kay was getting agitated.
Ram caught his sister's eye. "This is no' the time to be cryptic, Song. Please. Spell it out plain."
The Witch's Dream - A Paranormal Romance (The Order of the Black Swan, BOOK TWO) Page 12
