Captive Heart

by Anna Windsor

  Jack.

  Andy’s heart ached so suddenly and fiercely she couldn’t hold back her tears. Damn it, she missed him so much. Nearly a month since she’d seen his handsome face. Those sweet, loving eyes. Almost there. Almost time. Just not quite yet.

  I’m still here …

  Please let him mean that.

  In true fire Sibyl fashion, Mother Keara went next, glorying in her role of spouting off the punishments Andy knew she so richly deserved.

  “We sentence you to three months of diligent work on the construction of yer new Motherhouse—though frankly I have my troubles seein’ what was off about the first one.” She let off a small blast of white smoke, tamped a flame on the corner of the parchment, and kept reading. “We order you to be givin’ equally diligent attention to the needs of yer quad and the deeper needs of yer own heart. Nurture yer relationships, help with settlin’ new initiates and the flippin’ unusual assortment of characters you and Elana have seen fit to welcome into yer midst, assist with Dio’s rehabilitation, and spend time with yer old friends and your goddess-children Neala and Ethan when they can visit.” She looked up and grinned, her wrinkled face taking on a timeless quality as her green eyes—and her hair—blazed. “Will you be acceptin’ our discipline, Andrea Myles?”

  Andy drew on the strength and support of her quad to find her voice, and she answered with a firm, loud, “I accept.”

  Mother Keara nodded, spreading smoke in every direction. “Then I pronounce this Council—”

  “Wait, wait. One more thing.” Elana held up both hands, and all eyes turned to her. Andy stared, too, because she had no idea what the old imp was up to now, but whatever it was, Andy trusted it would be for the best in the long run—no matter how much discomfort it caused in the short run.

  “What the hell?” Dio muttered, and Andy could tell she was gearing up for a good blast of thunder if necessary.

  “Down, girl,” Andy whispered.

  Elana performed one of the best dramatic sighs Andy had ever witnessed, then grabbed the front of her slick canary robes. “I’m putting you in charge of picking something besides this goddess-awful yellow chiffon crap. Can you choose something better, Andy? Something a little more … us?”

  The rest of the Mothers at the Council table gaped.

  Camille and Bela snickered, and Dio said, “Well, you can’t have blue. Blue’s taken.”

  Andy shrugged that off. “How does purple sound?” she asked Elana. “A silk-and-cotton blend? And we need a good supply of sunglasses, too.”

  Elana considered this while all the other mothers started trying to object, then she banged a hand on the table and loudly announced, “Works for me. And now this meeting of the Council of Mothers is closed. Get up on deck, girl. We’ve got work to do.”

  “Work?” Bela got up and hustled out of the conference room right behind Andy, with Dio and Camille close behind her. “What work?”

  “Come with me on a boat trip,” Dio sniped in an awful imitation of Andy’s Southern twang. “It’ll be a va-caaation. Real relaxing and all.”

  Camille didn’t say anything because she was running to the starboard gunwale to puke again.

  Andy waited for her to finish, patted her back, then pointed to the large, unnamed island barely visible in the morning mists off the boat’s bow, a little to port. Twenty square miles of tropical paradise with the exact right sand, superlative trees, and smooth, idyllic energy and flow. Even the waves on the beaches sounded right to Andy. The island had no inhabitants, no declared national allegiance, and no registered presence with any nation, though Mother Anemone would take care of all of that soon enough.

  For now, though—

  Andy put on her sunglasses and grinned at her quad, and also at Elana and Ona as they joined them at the boat’s forwardmost point. “I need everybody’s help with a little project.”

  “What kind of little project?” Bela asked, each word sounding more wary than the last.

  “Nothing much.” Andy gave Bela her best grin. “Just raising a volcano off the western shore there.”

  Bela’s mouth came open. For a moment she seemed speechless, then managed a sputtering, “Volcano? Raising a—you’re out of your freaking mind.”

  “It’s been extinct for centuries.” Andy waved her hand like it was really no big deal. “Just some minor earth shifting. You know, a little rock and roll. Elana and I will handle the water displacement and protect the boat, and you, Dio, can you take care of the air displacement and weather pattern shifts? And Camille, you and Ona make sure to set up a good firewall so we don’t accidentally wash away New Zealand or something, okay?”

  Everybody but Elana and Ona stared at her. Ona cracked her knuckles like she was getting loose for a big sword fight, and Elana did a deep knee bend, followed by some impressive yogic breathing. A few seconds later, she dived into the ocean to warn off all sentient sea creatures that might be affected by their energy-working and landscape contouring.

  Camille surrendered, going to join Ona and starting to discuss which lines of subterranean ore they needed to stabilize.

  “It’ll be a vaa-caaation,” Dio groused again, but she squinted at the sky, and Andy sensed her reading air currents and getting ready to shove some clouds back and forth.

  Bela pointed her finger in Andy’s face. “Damn your hide. Next time I’m taking a Carnival Cruise, just so you know.”

  Andy blew her a kiss. Then she squared her stance and got ready to do a little tango with the South Pacific.

  Sibyls.

  Jack gripped the railing on the rickety skiff he and Saul had rented from one of the five hundred or so people living on tiny, remote Rapa Iti—which just happened to include one small group of retired members of the Dark Crescent Sisterhood who used to cover American Samoa, the Cook Islands, and French Polynesia.

  Why was it that his relationship with one particular Sibyl seemed to frequently involve him riding through paradise in a boat that should have been retired from service about a century ago—and wondering if he might get drowned for his trouble?

  He’d spent a long few weeks weighing whether he should give Andy space and leave her alone or plow after her like Tarzan beating his chest and claiming his Jane. Last time the space thing had been the wrong choice, and Jack couldn’t see Andy doing anything with Tarzan save for a quick and merciless disemboweling.

  So he’d sent her messages. A lot of them, all saying the same thing. That he was here. That he was waiting. And finally that he’d wait forever if he had to, but he hoped it didn’t come to that.

  Her summons had arrived yesterday, and it made him laugh.

  So show up already. Two words for you: South Pacific. Now I’m the one waiting for you.

  Jack hadn’t wasted any time getting himself to the nearest fire Sibyl to start his journey. This time he’d get it right, damn it, even if he couldn’t find any swinging vines.

  Jack liked getting things right.

  For Andy, he could even get used to the whole chest-beating thing. She was woman enough to wake all the primal urges lurking deep in his essence. He’d just have to be on the lookout for warning glares if he wanted to avoid the disemboweling. He thought he was up to the task.

  Saul drove the skiff, shirtless as usual, his tattoos and scars already turning pink under the relentless South Pacific sunlight. Jack had picked jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt. He had one bag full of the same gear, plus a trunk with his wet suit and scuba gear.

  “She really might kill you,” Saul shouted over the engine’s puttering and snuffling and the not-so-quiet rush of the natural surf.

  “This time I’ve got an invitation,” Jack shouted back, not giving a shit what Saul thought.

  Saul flipped him off. “I’m betting she’ll regret that.”

  Jack decided to ignore Saul, and he focused instead on the island slowly coming into view.

  Whoa.

  Duncan and John hadn’t been kidding when they told him the place was un-fu
cking-believable.

  Dark blue seas gave way to sky-blue waves rushing to crest on white quartz beaches. The sand twinkled and gleamed under the flawless sunlight, showing off patches of purple and green and light pink blended like highlights. Farther inland, the sand feathered into swaths of lush green and amber grasses and a thick tree cover. Silky green knolls dotted one end of the island, and Jack could make out cottages in various stages of construction. Elana’s other family of the heart, the Bengals who needed out of the cities, had selected that end for their quiet little society, finally safe from Rakshasa and suspicious paranormals and humans who didn’t understand what they were, or the pain they had been through to reclaim their sanity from unwanted supernatural infections. Jack had heard that a few of the Astaroths and some Cursons had elected to build homes or vacation spots in the same location, giving rise to the spot’s new nickname—Demon Beach.

  On the other end of the island, more cottages—some crystalline in appearance, some of stone, and a few of high-grade teak—and some larger all-purpose structures had been raised around flat farmlike fields. Air and fire and earth Sibyls with projective talents would visit these little homes to train, and to live permanently if the need arose. Saul pointed at those houses. “Chaos Beach. I heard Andy nicknamed it herself.”

  Fitting, Jack thought, and finally let himself look at the island’s crowning feature. Less than a tenth of a mile off the flat end of the island, rising like a breathtaking phantasm born straight from the breaking waves, stood a huge dormant volcano so old it was bleached white and laced with coral caves already turned into amazing sea-view quarters for the water Sibyls. Though he couldn’t see it, Jack knew the volcano’s outer slopes hid a gigantic caldera within, a hollow, protected basin that already housed the heart of Motherhouse Atanua, built right into the natural formations of the coral-crusted structure itself. Andy had made sure her water Sibyls would never again fall prey to a tidal surge, natural or otherwise. Even the largest, fiercest wave would break into so much foam against the massive mountain, and her adepts would be nestled safe within those towering walls no matter what the oceans and skies tried to do to them.

  His gaze moved upward. Higher. Higher still, to a plateau near the top of the mountain. That’s where Andy had built her quarters. John and Duncan told him she had pronounced it the best possible spot because she could see anything coming and be ready to meet it.

  “Are you ready to meet me?” he whispered into the rushing wind, his arms already aching to hold her.

  Probably his imagination, but Jack thought he could make out small figures on a white coral balcony, staring out across the waves.

  One of them had red hair.

  “Is that him?” Dio asked, her voice as soft and smooth as the light wind coursing across the lip of the volcano.

  “It’s him.” Andy’s breath came short as her fingers curled around the soft, polished coral on the rail of the balcony.

  Dio shook her head, watching the boat approach. “Why didn’t he just come straight here through the mirrors?”

  “It’s not his style.” Andy wanted to climb over and dive right off the mountain. She wanted to plunge into the clear blue surf below and sweep through the waves until she reached Jack, until she pulled him into the warm depths with her and claimed him forever. She didn’t think she had ever missed anyone so badly. She knew she had never wanted anyone more, mind and body and soul.

  It took all her strength, but she turned away from the sea view and focused on Camille, who was standing beside Bela in her bedroom. She hadn’t moved much furniture into the large room, just a big bed with a good mattress and soft sea-blue sheets, a teak chair and writing table, and a teakwood sofa and chairs with blue cushions for her quad to use when they were in residence. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to hang anything on the gorgeous coral walls, or even put blinds on the huge windows that gave her a 360-degree view of the ocean.

  Camille came forward and gave Andy a quick, tight hug. “I won’t let you down, honey. Give us two hours—three, tops—and we’ll be ready.”

  As she finished her sentence, she stepped toward the center of the floor. The polished coral beneath her feet shimmered, and Camille melted into the earth’s ever-flowing channels of energy. Bela and Dio didn’t dissolve, but they got out fast, hurrying off to gather Elana and Ona and the adepts.

  Andy waited, wondering how she looked in her new light purple robes. Probably a stupid color, but a hell of a lot better than canary yellow. The soft fabric teased her skin, making her feel electric, doubling her excitement as seconds passed, and minutes, and she sensed him coming closer.

  When Jack finally opened her door and walked inside toting a small trunk and travel bag, she was treated to a full, delicious view of his tanned muscles and handsome face. All she could do was ache all over. All she could say was, “You’re here.”

  She covered her mouth and just let her heart pound.

  Jack dropped his stuff on the floor, closed the door behind him, took off his sunglasses, and gazed at her like he wanted to kiss every inch of her, toes to lips and back again.

  “I’m wherever you are,” he said, his voice so low it gave her chills. “If you’re ready. If that’s what you want.”

  She couldn’t stop looking at him. “I want you. You’re my present and my future. You’re my home, Jack.”

  He walked toward her. Closer. Close enough to touch, then only a breath away from her. “Want to get married?” he murmured. “I brought a ring just in case you decided not to kill me for all those messages.”

  Andy gazed into his warm brown eyes, already getting lost in the depths. “How does an hour from now sound? Two? We really should give everybody time to get ready for us.”

  Jack gave it a little thought. “Two hours. Just about right.”

  He wrapped her in his powerful arms and kissed her, long and deep and hot, just like she’d been missing, just like she wanted, and her entire body started to tingle.

  Jack bit her lip, her neck, tasting her, touching her all over through the soft fabric of her robes. “I love you, Andy.”

  She felt whole again. Completed. She wanted him to feel the same way.

  He lifted her and carried her straight to the big bed she had picked out, hoping he’d share it with her. Lightheaded, she held him tight as he stretched her out on the downy comforter and kissed her again. The few times Andy opened her eyes, she realized she could see hints of their reflections in the polished coral ceiling, in the windows and walls. She could see Jack kissing her with a backdrop of clouds and sky and endless, welcoming ocean waves.

  In a hazy sort of trance, she opened herself to excitement, to relief, to satisfaction and crazy need. His emotions flowed through her, matching hers with each thrust of his tongue and stroke of his strong, talented hands.

  “Incredible,” he said as he opened her robes, as he found her breasts and teased the nipples until she screamed into his mouth and molded her body to his, tugging at his jeans until he slid them off, until he took off his shirt and let her have all of him, skin to skin, kissing her, sliding his hard length against her belly.

  She raised her hand and let her fingers trace the scars on his arms and chest. “If I’m incredible, you’re amazing.”

  His next kiss came more gently, so soft it teased deep spots in her soul.

  “Can you see us?” he whispered, his bass tone giving her shivers on top of shivers.

  She forgot about talking and nodded, watching from a dozen angles as he lowered his mouth to her nipple and nibbled the sensitive tip.

  Torture.

  And perfect.

  Andy pressed both hands against the sides of his head and pushed his face down, down, groaning as he took her breast in his mouth and really drove her insane.

  She couldn’t get over the silk of his mouth on her skin, the force of his hands moving across all the right spots—and everywhere, everywhere, she could see him massaging her, pressing his fingers into her soft lo
wer curls as he relieved the burning ache in her other breast. She could see herself touching him, running her fingers along his erection, then not even struggling as he pushed away her hand and pressed his thighs between her legs.

  “I’m watching us together,” she said, her voice nothing but a gasp against the steady, rocking rush of the surf far below on the mountain. “I can see us together forever.”

  “I love you,” Jack told her as he drove into her, taking her completely with one stroke, making love to her all over the room wherever she looked, but the best place to look was right in front of her, directly into the heat and passion of his gaze.

  Andy moaned from the hot motion of him thrusting inside her, and too fast, too fast, her orgasm shattered her heart and put it back together again all in the same moment. She let herself scream, let herself stay wide open physically and emotionally, and Jack gave her everything. All his strength. All his energy. All his feelings. He didn’t hold anything back, including his roar of pleasure and possession when he came inside her, pulsing and thrusting until Andy knew she couldn’t take another second, but wanted hours and hours and hours more. She didn’t stop the conception. She welcomed it, adoring the sense of life blooming in her depths, his existence and hers joining in the most complete and permanent way she could imagine. She especially adored the pure, unfettered joy that washed across Jack’s features when she pulled his face to hers, kissed him, and said, “It’s happening. Our first baby. She’s happening right this second.”