Chayton's Tempest

by Aliyah Burke

along the seam of her mouth, seeking entrance. As Tempest

  opened her mouth under his probe, he entered slowly.

  His tongue made leisurely and unhurried delves into

  her hot mouth. He swept through every part of her that he

  could reach, teaching himself just what taste made up the

  woman named Tempest.

  Settling his legs so her body could fit between them,

  Maverick pulled her in close. His body was on fire for her. The

  hand at her back moved her pelvis closer to his and he knew

  she could feel the rock-hard erection that was pushing against

  his jeans, trying to get closer to her.

  Tempest whimpered as his tongue made love to her

  mouth. Her hands reached out and grabbed at his waist,

  desperately needing to hang onto something.

  “That’s right, baby; open for me,” he coaxed as he

  continued his tender assault.

  The hand at the back of her neck was sending more

  impulses through her body as the fingers teased her skin and

  rubbed her hair. The feel of his rigid penis pressing into her

  didn’t help to control her lust.

  Her mouth opened further to allow him more access.

  Her own tongue began to dance with his. It was like being hit

  by a two-by-four of yearning. Both of them groaned and hips

  flexed simultaneously.

  Maverick drew back and looked at the woman who

  trembled in his embrace. Her lips were swollen from the kiss;

  her eyes were sultry with desire. He could see the points of her

  nipples poking through her shirt, inviting him to draw them

  into his mouth.

  Everything about her called to him. For the life of him,

  he couldn’t remember any of his past women. And he also

  couldn’t recall ever feeling like this with them. There was

  something so right, so perfect about holding Tempest in his

  arms. What was going on?

  Maverick blinked and blinked again. He was no longer with

  Tempest at her house; instead, he was standing in a valley of lush

  grasses beside a crystal blue lake, totally surrounded by snowcapped

  mountains. A figure walked towards him. It was his tunkašila, his

  grandfather. The man stood there tall and proud, how Maverick

  remembered him.

  His words were soft like on a breeze as they reached his ears.

  “It is good to see you, Maverick.”

  “Tunkašila, it is so good to see you.” His grandfather had

  given him the nickname Maverick. It happened right before he’d been

  brutally murdered, so out of respect for him, Maverick had kept it.

  “And you.” The man moved closer, and stared directly into

  identical eyes of his grandson. “Why have you called me?”

  “I don’t understand what is going on with me. I don’t know

  how to handle this woman or make amends for my mistakes.”

  Maverick reached down and picked some grass allowing it to fall and

  be taken away in the breeze.

  The old weathered man laughed. When a confused Maverick

  looked to him he responded, “That’s because, takoja, my grandchild,

  you have found what you have been searching for. The wiyan,

  woman in your arms, is destined to be your mitawin.”

  Maverick was shocked, yet, at the same time, filled with a

  peace he’d long since believed he wouldn’t ever be allowed to find.

  “Are you sure, Tunkašila? My mitawin? My wife?”

  An amused grin crossed his grandfather’s face. “Why are you

  surprised?”

  “I never thought I would be married. I mean, with what I do

  and what I’ve seen…” he trailed off as the black eyes of his elder began

  to sparkle with humor.

  “You never wanted to have someone to share your life with? I

  know you didn’t want to continue on how you were. All those

  different women.” Censure crossed his face. “You deserve so much

  more than that.”

  Maverick chuckled. “This is not going to be easy.” He sat

  down on the soft ground and picked some more grass.

  The leather-clad figure sank down beside him. For a moment,

  they sat in silence before Maverick’s grandfather spoke. “No woman

  worth anything is going to be easy. You have much to atone for, with

  her and my great-grandchild. And this one, your woman, took on the

  name Tempest Independence!” He began to laugh a full belly laugh.

  “What a fight you have!”

  Tempest Independence? Crap. “I don’t know what to do. I

  don’t know how to make amends.” Maverick didn’t entirely see the

  situation being that funny.

  Gentle eyes watched him, but the man remained silent.

  “Tunkašila, please. Tell me what I can do to make it better? How do I

  make up for not being there?”

  “I don’t know if there is a way you can make up for it,

  James.” Tempest said in a low voice and moved out of his

  arms.

  Blinking a few times as reality sank in around him,

  Maverick looked down at the woman who was backing away.

  “Tempest, wait.”

  “That can’t happen again,” she demanded. “I have to get

  to bed, so you need to tell me your side and then we can be

  done with this.”

  He felt her absence immediately and hated the feeling. It

  hit him like a ton of bricks what his teammates had said about

  their wives. He’d laughed at them then; and now, he realized

  just how lucky he was they hadn’t kicked his ass for teasing

  them.

  Then her words sank in and they got an entirely

  different reaction from him. Rage filled him at the thought of

  losing her. “What do you mean this can’t happen again?” His

  fist clenched as he fought the urge to grab her.

  “It is a very self-explanatory sentence, James. You know

  what I mean.”

  “We aren’t ignoring what’s between us,” he vowed as he

  forced his body to assume a more relaxed position.

  “There isn’t anything between us to acknowledge or

  ignore. Now, it is almost four in the morning; so if you are

  going to tell me what happened on your end, do so. If not,

  leave so I can get some sleep.”

  Her voice was devoid of emotion and it was like nails on

  a chalkboard to Maverick. He hated how she did that, act as if

  going down a checklist of unimportant items.

  Here was his chance to tell her his side and he couldn’t

  think of a single thing to say. What was there to say other than,

  I didn’t know. She wasn’t going to want to hear about how

  many women he’d slept with, how much traveling he’d done

  or anything like that. Nothing in his life was overly difficult

  and that wouldn’t win him points with her either.

  The light laughter of his grandfather echoed in his head.

  What do I say? All he got in response was more laughter.

  “Okay,” Tempest’s husky voice broke into his jumbled

  thoughts. “So you have nothing to tell me; doesn’t really

  surprise me.” She walked to the door and opened it.

  “Goodnight, James.” There was such finality in her tone.

  Gritting his teeth, he moved toward both her and the

  door. Grabbing his helmet off the seat by the entrance,
his

  fathomless eyes bore into hers. “I don’t know what I have to do

  to show you how sorry I am that my youthful idiocy and my

  parents’ spitefulness put you through what it did, Tempest. I

  may never find a way, but I will do my damnedest.”

  Just prior to being totally out the door, Maverick turned

  back and grasped her chin, holding her immobile. “And there

  is no way in hell I’m giving up on what’s between us.” His lips

  were on and off hers before she could protest. He used his

  thumb to caress her lower lip as he whispered, “Goodnight,

  mitawin. Sleep well and dream of me. Toksha ake wacinyuanktin

  ktelo, I shall see you again.” Then he was gone.

  Tempest slumped against the door as she closed it

  behind the man who took too much of her air supply. Her lips

  still tingled and there was a pool of moisture between her legs

  from just being in his presence.

  Damn him!

  And then to top it off, he went and spoke Lakota again.

  It had been so hard not to jump on him and beg him to stay.

  Although from the ridge she’d felt in his pants, she didn’t think

  it would’ve been too much of a struggle to get him to accept.

  Straightening up, Tempest went to go to bed when a

  flash of white caught her eye. On the chair that had held his

  helmet sat an envelope. It was face down and she groaned,

  “This plan of coming back to get this envelope isn’t going to

  work, James. I’ll give it to you at the bar.”

  She picked it up to put with her keys, so she wouldn’t

  forget it, but dropped it. It flipped over and she saw TO MY

  DAUGHTER, SARAH written on the other side.

  Bile rushed up and she began to shake. What kind of

  trick was this? Why would he be so mean to her?

  Carrying the envelope as if it were a sidewinder about to

  strike, she walked cautiously to the couch where she curled up

  in the seat her guest had just vacated. Swallowing, Tempest

  finished the rest of the drink she’d given to Maverick as she

  continued to stare at the object in her lap.

  Sucking her bottom lip in her mouth, she made a

  decision. Flipping it over, Tempest slid her finger under the

  seal, ripping it open. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out the

  folded pages and began to read.

  Sarah,

  I don’t really know how to say what I long to

  tell you. I don’t know how much time I have. So

  I’ll start at the beginning and hope to finish in

  time.

  First and foremost, I love you. I know you

  don’t believe that and you have every right not

  to, but it’s true. Not a day has gone by that I

  haven’t wondered how you were doing and

  what you looked like now.

  I imagine you are just as gorgeous as the sun

  upon a field of flowers. I wish I could go back in

  time and change the stupid way I acted. I never

  should have let you go.

  Now before you think I’m doing this because

  I want something, let me tell you, you are

  absolutely right. I know I have no right to ask

  anything of you but I am.

  I long to see you, hold you in my arms and

  kiss your cheeks. I also want to meet my

  grandson. Yes, I know about him, James

  Lonetree came to the door and when Carol said

  she didn’t have time for him, he asked her.

  Asked her in front of me and the guests, why we

  never told him you were pregnant and why we

  abandoned you. How we could have kept him

  from his son for twenty-one years. I have never

  been so proud of a man before. He was almost

  desperate to find out the truth of what

  happened.

  After he left the house, I left and parked

  outside of town and here I’m now writing this

  letter in hopes that I will see him leaving. I feel it

  in my bones that he is coming back to find you.

  I was a dumb idiot for letting Carol talk me

  into sending you away. Even more stupid for

  going along with it all these years. Bertha was

  my sister and I still never tried to get in contact

  with you. Can you ever forgive an old fool?

  Like I stated earlier, I wouldn’t be surprised if

  you didn’t even get this far in the letter. I

  deserve all your scorn and then some. I was your

  father, I should have protected you. A failure

  which has haunted me for the over 7,000 days I

  haven’t seen you, heard your voice or held you

  in my arms.

  I don’t know how you did in school, what you

  enjoy doing for fun. Your favorite foods.

  Anything about you, and I can’t blame anyone

  but myself.

  My wish before I die is to see you and meet

  your child, whom I would love to call my

  grandson. If you can find it in your heart to

  agree to this, please send a letter to the address

  below and I will find a way to come to you.

  I love you and no matter what the court

  papers say, I have never not thought of you as

  my child. I have to go, I have so much I long to

  tell you, but I want to be looking in your

  beautiful eyes when I do so.

  I can’t tell you how much I hope to hear

  from you.

  Love you,

  Mitchell Whitehall

  Tempest read the letter again and was more than

  shocked when the splash of a tear landed on the back of her

  hand. The handwriting in front of her was shaky and not the

  easiest to read, but she definitely recognized it as her father’s.

  Reaching for a tissue, she allowed her eyes to pour over

  the simple yet touching words on the paper. “What am I going

  to do now?” she sniffed. A quiet knock on her door didn’t

  surprise her in the slightest. As she rose and walked to the

  door, Tempest was positive she knew who was waiting on the

  other side.

  There was no hesitation as she swung it open. She

  needed comfort and the tall man standing there was just who

  she wished to get it from. Tempest didn’t ask what he was

  doing there or how he knew she needed him to come back.

  She looked up at him and the tears began to flow even

  more. In a second, she was lifted off the ground and cradled

  against Maverick’s solid chest as he closed the door behind

  him. Maverick carried her to the couch where he sat down and

  gathered her closer yet.

  Her dark face buried into his neck and she cried herself

  out. He rubbed her back and whispered in her ear, “It’ll be

  okay, Tempest. Chéye shni yo, don’t cry. Please.” He held her

  tighter. “I wish I could take the pain away. Chéye shni yo, chéye

  shni yo.”

  His lips teased her ear and as the comforting scent of

  James Chayton Lonetree surrounded her, Tempest gave into

  the emotional exhaustion this evening had piled upon her and

  fell asleep in his embrace, feeling safe and protected for once.

  Maverick knew the second she was asleep. It had torn

  his insides out to hear her gut-wrenching sobs He sat there

  holding her until
her clock chimed six. Then, he stood and

  carried her to her bedroom. His dark eyes took in the simplicity

  of her things and again, shame swept through him.

  Placing her gently on her bed, he placed a kiss on her

  lips. “I won’t let you go. You, Tempest Independence, are mine.

  Ohinyan mita. Mine forever.” He left her there.

  Twelve

  Tempest rolled over and slowly opened her eyes. Her

  throat hurt, her eyes were puffy, and she was wearing her

  clothes from the previous day.

  Sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of her

  bed, she glanced at the clock. It was after noon. Standing with a

  decided lurch, she went into the bathroom.

  Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she shook her

  head. She looked terrible. Flashes of the letter and Maverick

  holding her made her almost head to the living room, instead

  she climbed into her shower and let the water pour over her.

  It was a quick shower and afterward, Tempest put on

  her lotion and dressed in a white tank top and a blue sarong.

  Pulling her hair back into a knot so it was off her neck, she

  stepped out of her bedroom.

  Her ears and nose were assaulted at the same time with

  the smell of beef and cheese and semi-hushed masculine

  conversation. Padding up through her house barefoot, Tempest

  stopped at the entrance to her kitchen.

  Maverick and Dakota were in there making tacos at her

  kitchen counter. They had their backs to her and were talking

  amongst themselves. For a brief moment, Tempest felt a flash

  of betrayal at her son’s actions. Tamping it down, she forced a

  smile on her face and opened her mouth to speak.

  “Good morning, Tempest,” Maverick said in a loud and

  damnably sexy voice before she could say a word. “Or rather,

  good afternoon.” His dark head turned and he met her gaze

  directly.

  In that moment, Tempest forgot about feeling left out.

  Maverick was dressed in solid black once more; it was like the

  man didn’t understand he was in the middle of the damn

  desert during summertime. Whatever his reason for wearing

  what he did, she couldn’t argue with him. He wore it so well.

  His shirt was sculpted to his body; and his thighs, firm

  ass, and calves were shrink-wrapped in the denim material. His

  broad shoulders rolled with effortless motion as he moved. She

  got a mouth full of cotton just looking at him, he was so

  handsome.

  It was his eyes that froze her, though. As they roamed