by Dianna Hardy
Oh, God … sweet man … my husband. Kiss me… “You have lipstick on your collar,” she blurted out instead, wincing at the statement – both at its meaning and that she’d had to say it at all – but she couldn’t pretend the lipstick wasn’t there. That particular shade of pink was branded into her mind now.
“Ahhh … that’s why you went berserk. I met up with Katherine at her house. She’s going to wait there for Elena’s instructions. There’s a lot we needed to talk through – a lot of time to make up for.”
Oh, you stupid girl…
“There were a few tears; she cried into my shirt.”
…stupid, stupid… “It appears I’m a hormonal idiot. I’m so sorr—”
“I told you to shush.” He kissed her.
She moaned against the feel of him before she could stop herself – cool, familiar, comforting, assuring.
“Lizzie,” he breathed into her, and she parted her lips for him, not bothering to correct him over her name because there was nothing to correct.
His tongue darted into her mouth and entwined with hers. “I love you, too. I never stopped.” And then he deepened their kiss, and honest to God, she was drowning, but in the most pleasant way possible.
She gently bumped the wall behind her, realising he’d been steering her backwards. He cupped her firmly behind her neck, fingers in her hair as he devoured her lips with his. “Fifty-five years … fifty-five fucking years…”
It took her a moment to understand what he was referring to: the last time he’d kissed her.
“Jesus Christ, you taste so…” He resumed his attack on her mouth. It’s not as if he really needed to finish that sentence – she got the idea.
With his other hand, he guided her away from the wall and to the left, then back some more, always careful with the baby.
“Paul … where—”
“Bedroom.”
Right. Good idea.
She felt as if she was melting under hot water, every last inch of her flowing and alive and tingling with sensation. How the hell had she avoided this for the past month? This was home, family, their marriage…
For a moment, she panicked again, closing off to everything she felt, her heart suddenly too fragile – he's going to die – except he wasn’t, was he? Those walls had stayed firmly in place because she’d refused to let herself say goodbye, but Pueblo had been right: the wall she’d put up against goodbye, had also been her wall against ‘I love you’ … and her wall against closure.
But now there needn’t be a goodbye – he wasn’t dying anymore. No dying!
And that was enough to blast away all her defences.
She only noticed they were in her bedroom when Paul shut the door behind him, his lips still attached to her; this time to the side of her jaw by her ear. He moved south, down her neck and she groaned at how wonderful it felt to have him doing this again, after so long.
Her fingers dexterously made light work of the buttons on this shirt.
He manhandled it off himself, throwing it to the floor.
Her oversized sweater was next, but once it was off her, she inanely froze, arms automatically coming up around her.
“Hey,” he voiced, concerned, “What is it? Too fast?”
Too fast? God no, she was aching for him in a way that might even be intensified by her hormones, although she was definitely feeling it all in her heart. She shook her head. “No, I…” and then she laughed a small laugh that sounded a little ridiculous. “It’s silly really. It’s just that I’m…” She blushed as she met his gaze, “I’m huge. So different to how you remember me.”
Those brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “Huge and bloody gorgeous.”
Her lips were under his again, but then he pulled back and searched her eyes; stroked her cheek. “You have no idea how many nights I would lie in bed imagining moments like these after you disappeared; all the many days I wished I could relive, thinking of all the things I’d say and do differently… I’ve seen this moment – you carrying our child,” his voice broke with the force of his emotion, “so many times in my mind. Let me see you now … please. Let me undress you.”
The plea was weighted with fifty-five years of longing, and she simultaneously cried with loss and soared with joy as she nodded her consent.
For some reason, he paused.
“What? What is it?”
He let out a long breath, assessing her with his eyes and licking his lips nervously.
“The longer you’re quiet, the more I’m going to pester you.”
He smiled at her candidness, and then reached into the pocket of his trousers. “One of the reasons I went to see Katherine tonight was because of this.” He brought his hand out, but kept it closed, hiding whatever it was he’d brought out of his pocket. “It’s not enough just to hope you and the baby are safe whenever I’m not here; I wanted something I could rely on. We performed a spell – she’s such a powerful witch, I’d almost forgotten. Anyway, we fused a part of my essence with this.”
Amy caught her breath as he showed her her wedding band in the palm of his hand. “Did you dig that out of my clothes drawer?” she asked, not sure if she should be bothered by that.
“Depends… Did you steal one of my shirts from my wardrobe?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.
Heat flamed her face. Touché.
“The item had to be something personal to both you and me. This was the only thing I could really think of. If you wear it,” he paused, looking at her tentatively again, “it’ll be as if I’m right here beside you, even if I’m not. The baby will remain in human form because of it, and you’ll be protected magically to some extent.”
Amy stared at the ring that she had brought back with her from 1956 when she had stepped through that wormhole. Had that only been six weeks ago? It seemed like a lifetime. The sheer amount of stuff she had had to process since then had felt insurmountable – so many times – and yet, here she stood, her heart still beating, her brain just about still working, staring at that little band of gold that had spanned two lifetimes for her. “If I wear it?”
He cupped her face and his forehead met hers. “I don’t know what happens next,” he whispered. “I don’t know how this is going to end. The only thing I know is that I never stopped loving you. I would tear out my own heart before I watch you die again… So, I would very much like it, if you would do me the honour of being my wife one more time.”
A shimmering Paul wavered in and out of focus as she blinked back fresh tears, his words flooding her system with a rush of … him. Him, in his entirety. He’d just put himself out there for her – for them – combining past and present to protect an unknown future.
She had no idea what she was going to say when she opened her mouth. Turned out, she said what was in her heart – the very same thing she’d found so hard to face since remembering who she really was. “I never stopped being your wife.”
His eyes flickered with relief, but he remained still … waiting…
“That’s a ‘yes’, by the way.”
His held breath left him in a rush. “Oh, thank God. If you’d have said no, I’d have had to magically imbue your coffee with a protection spell or something.”
“Ruin my coffee and we’re getting divorced.”
He grinned like a school boy and took her left hand in his, but the grin promptly disappeared as he slid the band up her fourth finger. She noted, stunned, that he had his matching ring on also. Had he always worn it? Had she just not noticed?
The metal felt hot against her skin as it glided on, millimetre by millimetre, sealing both their union and the magic he’d placed upon it.
Her breathing became shallow as that familiar heat built once again. How odd that this, of all things, should be so bloody erotic, but as that ring reached its destination, she suddenly understood that there was nothing else between them. She had skirted around him, placed excuses in the way whenever her emotions had become too great; they had both gon
e to great lengths to make sure neither ever felt obliged by any promises made… How blind. Their marriage was the promise they had never given up.
“Paul,” she choked out, her voice hoarse, and he had her in another kiss, all-consuming, somehow made deeper by the weight on her finger.
His hands encircled her stomach, her sides and then the small of her back, slipping beneath the waist of her trousers… “Please,” he pleaded.
“Yes…”
Her joggers came down her hips and Paul knelt to pull them off her feet along with her thick, winter socks. He placed a kiss on her belly for the baby as he came back up. “You look beautiful like this, and don’t you ever doubt it for a second.”
Her heart clenched. Tears raced down her cheeks. “I’ve missed you.”
Another kiss, and then kisses to both eyes, healing the past; first the left, then the right…
He slipped her bra straps off her shoulders, then undid the hook at the back and she sighed with both anticipation and relief. “Don’t think it really fits me anymore.”
He chortled with laughter and then was all seriousness again as he took in the sight of her.
It was ludicrously difficult not to cover herself up, but she didn’t want to hide from him anymore, so she kept still.
His eyes were shiny when he looked at her again. He held out his hand. “On the bed.”
She was a mass of nerves, but took his hand and made her way with him to the bed where she sat on the edge.
He knelt in front of her, dropping more kisses on her mouth, softer ones this time as he stroked the tops of her shoulders; brushed her hair away from her neck… Those kisses on her mouth became kisses along her collar bone. She moaned at the wet trail he left on her skin, all heat rushing straight to the apex of her thighs. She almost exploded when his tongue found her nipple. “Oh!”
“Sensitive?”
“Mm-hmm,” she nodded. Sensitive didn’t really cover it – she was all sensation; every last inch of her.
“We don’t have to make love. We could just—”
“I want to. I want you inside me … you know, if you can get there,” she grinned.
He laughed. “I’ll find a way. Let’s get these off.” He brought her underwear down. “Can you lie down on your side?”
“Yeah.” She shuffled up and lay down on her left, then had to move when the baby squirmed at her change of position.
“All right?”
“The baby’s moving – maybe I just squished his head, or something.”
She felt him smile against her shoulder. “I’m sure his head is well protected. Keep still for a bit – let him get used to the position.”
While she tried to relax, speaking silent words of reassurance to the baby, she heard Paul remove the rest of his clothes behind her. It took her heart rate up a notch, and her stomach did a somersault. Oddly, that seemed to settle the squirming.
The bed sank and he huddled up behind her, then pulled the covers up over them both. Kisses landed on the back of her neck and her shoulders, and then he ran his fingers up and down her spine, then her arm; the side of her belly… “I want to stroke you for a bit; remind myself how amazing you feel. Is that okay?”
She smiled into her pillow. She’d forgotten what a gentle lover he’d been; always nurturing; always giving; so incredibly patient…
Feather-light fingers touched her everywhere and she fell into every caress, reeling in the comfort of them, every moment sinking her deeper into some mellow trance, yet heightening her need for him.
Her heart felt so full; so open … but gone was the fear that had guarded this feeling. With the safety net gone, she wondered if she should be scared of falling from this enormous height, but when she explored the surroundings of her being, what she felt was confidence in the balance and steadiness she thought she’d lost. Hello, me – there you are. Long time, no see…
She gasped out loud, because his touch had altered, taking on a different feel, those light strokes becoming calculated and urgent – a light press on her engorged breast; a rub on her inner thigh... “Please…”
He groaned his assent, and slipped his hand between her legs, finding that small spot that was super-charged and ready to burst.
“Oh! I’m not sure I can wait.”
Another smile. “Patience was never your strong point.”
She was too far gone for any retort. Her hips bucked against him, and he positioned himself against her entrance from behind, his voice tight when he spoke… “Are you sure?”
“God, yes.”
“I’ll be careful.” And then he was filling her up, sliding in more easily than she had anticipated given her size and sensitivity.
He made a low rumbling noise into her hair. “You’re wonderful. You feel wonderful…”
She took all of him in, bemused that she could, until his abdomen met the seat of her backside. The feeling was beyond description. She’d never felt so full of love and want, and so protected, and it wasn’t just sexual, but combined with her love for him and their son.
Further tears slipped down her face, and they were tears of fulfilment.
Paul reached over her head with his left arm, found her hand and laced his fingers through hers, never once losing his focus on her growing ache.
Slowly, he began to move inside her, both gently, but firmly, and she saw herself unfurl.
A kiss tickled her ear, his breath as sweet as ever… “I love you,” he whispered, and it sent her into oblivion.
His name left her lips, wrapped in vows – decades old – as he catapulted her into a climax, carrying her to its very end.
Chapter Twenty
Magic had a definite scent. Amy’s magic smelt like fresh roses and lemons; this shaman’s magic smelt a bit like burnt flesh, and it was particularly strong here.
Pueblo followed it into a building, teleporting through the door because it was locked. A doctor’s surgery.
Really … what’s the point of using locks anymore?
A sound from behind had him spinning around and ready to pounce, but it was only Teigas putting in a surprise appearance.
Pueblo grinned on the inside, and tried not to show it on the outside. “What are you doing here? I thought I was the able student who no longer needed his teacher?”
The imp coughed as he hopped down from the mantelpiece he’d just landed on and dusted himself off. “I want to make sure you don’t get killed – so sue me. Five decades down the drain if you balls-up on the first go.”
“Such faith, Teigas. I am incredibly underwhelmed.”
“What do you want me to say? That I care about your back enough to watch it? Pffft!” But he glanced at him a second too long before looking away and hell … the soft spot he had for his mentor just got a little softer.
“Don’t get in the way.”
“Don’t worry, I’m good at being small.”
Pueblo laughed, quietly. “Are you up to date on everything that’s happening?”
“Morgana sent word a short while ago. Seems like I missed one hell of a meeting.”
A silence fell between them and Pueblo’s smile faded. “Don’t suppose there’s any human blood in you?”
Teigas’ gaze softened. “Not an ounce. Don’t sweat it – there are worse ways to go, and I’ve had a good life. Last fifty years of it spent with a dumbfuck Dessec, but still…”
“Nice.”
A muffled noise sounded from somewhere above them. They both picked up on it, although Pueblo’s sensitive hearing zoned in much better. “That was a human. Male. Two floors up. There must be living accommodation above the surgery.”
“The shaman?”
“Or the person he came here to see,” replied Pueblo, grimly.
“Stairs or ceiling?”
“I’m feeling unconventional.”
Teigas smirked. “Ceiling it is then.”
Without wasting another minute, they both looked up and teleported through two ceilings – first f
loor, second floor – until the carpeted ground grew solid once more under their feet.
“You’re too late.” The older shaman greeted them crouched on the floor of the living room, over the body of a man.
Pueblo caught sight of his name on couple of unopened envelopes on the coffee table. “Dr Ivan Jefferson, I presume.”
“Former,” replied Norolf. “He knew too much, and wouldn’t give me the information.”
“You’re gonna run out of people to kill if you get rid of everyone keeping secrets from you.”
He grinned a wolfish grin. “Oh, I don’t know. Still one or two demon tribes left to go…”
Anger flared in his gut. He may have hated his tribe in recent years, but that didn’t mean the vision of his entire race dead at his feet had been a pleasant one. He called that ‘Earth energy’ he’d spent the last half century trying to master, to his surface, ready to utilise it at a moment’s notice. It still felt unfamiliar, even after all this time.
“Don’t worry yourself, Dessec, I won’t be killing many more – I have the prize within reach. I know where your pregnant witch resides.”
“She’s protected.”
“Of course. By … who is he again? The husband?”
He tampered down a growl. “He’s much more than that.”
“Guess he’s next on my list then,” Norolf smiled.
Before Pueblo could register it, the ground began to sink.
Looking down, he saw nothing but a mass of black ooze climbing over his shoes and painting the carpet from one end to the other.
With a yelp, he jumped onto the coffee table, the goo stringy between his feet and the floor. As fast as he could, and careful not to get any of that stuff on him, he kicked his shoes off.
The tar-like substance just kept growing.
It’s climbing up the fucking furniture!
“Hope you said your last farewell to your loved one, Dessec.”
The shaman disappeared into thin air.
Teigas materialised beside him on the coffee table.
“Where the fuck did you go?”
“I made myself small.”
“Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“No.”
