by Jory Strong
He wanted to hold her and bury his face in her hair. He wanted to take her mouth with his, to press kisses to each inch of revealed skin. He wanted…
A blush stole into her cheeks. She looked away and he cursed himself for what she must have seen in his face. She was engaged and Clay lay between them in need of care.
Tekoa rose from his crouch in front of the fireplace. "I'll take his clothes."
He reached for the dripping clothing. She let go without meeting his eyes.
Damn. The last thing he wanted was for her to get spooked or think of him as some kind of predator. Which was going to make what he needed to say next rate a fifty-fifty chance of causing trouble.
She'd removed her shoes and socks and jacket. Her light blue shirt looked dry but her jeans were soaked and muddy. "You need to get out of anything wet."
Jessica nodded, her heart hammering away and the pulse in her neck as good as a flashing neon sign broadcasting her nervousness. He was right, but…
Get over yourself. It's not like she wasn't used to men looking.
Her shirt was long enough to cover her panties, barely. Besides, the shirt and panties combined weren't any more revealing than wearing a bikini and a cover-up at the beach.
Tendrils of steam rose from her jeans. In a little while the mud would become caked dirt.
She stood and Tekoa turned his head and closed his eyes, not that she needed the privacy but she appreciated it. Not that he was the only one guilty of looking.
He was probably thirty-five to Clay's thirty-two and her twenty-seven, a little more rugged in appearance than Clay, but every bit as beautiful, as masculine, as compelling. His nose and chin and cheek bones begged to be traced with a fingertip.
His skin was smooth like dark wood, the expanse of his shoulders like a tree that had stood for hundreds of years. And the way his torso tapered down to become abs she'd bet were an eight pack, not a six pack, were an invitation to kiss downward.
The fire popped and crackled and sparked, catching the diamond in a flash of light and reminding her that she had a man. A man who wants to be with another man.
Her throat locked and her chest constricted. Her eyes went to Clay and some of the tightness eased. He'd gained color with the fire's warmth and he'd stopped shivering.
It was going to be okay. He was going to be okay. Somehow they'd find a way to stay together and be okay.
She tugged and pushed and peeled the jeans off, then grabbed her socks. "Here they are," she said, forcing herself to meet Tekoa's gaze as she gave him the bundle of wet things.
He took them and heading toward the bedroom area. She knelt next to Clay, placed her hand on his chest and he mumbled something but didn't open his eyes. His heart beat steadily beneath her palm as if to say I love you, I'll always love you, and her heart matched that beat.
She didn't want to lose him. Not to an accident. Not to another man.
Firelight caught in the diamond again, and her eyes burned. She'd only worn it for three months.
She hadn't guessed what he intended when he suggested they go to the bookstore where they'd met. They'd gotten there and he'd taken her hand, same as always, but he'd led her into the children's section and to the exact spot where she'd been sitting that day she'd looked up and seen him. He'd dropped to his knees and said, Marry me, Jess. Make me the happiest man in the world.
Yes.
His smile had given her heart wings. He'd pulled a jewelry box from a jacket pocket and opened it. Like it? If you—
I love it. I love you. I don't need a ring.
Wrong. Other guys need to know you've got a man in your life and you're totally, completely, forever off limits.
She'd laughed. Maybe I need to buy you a new wardrobe and every item of clothing will say, Hands off. This man is Jessica's Property.
Do it, babe. Do it.
The burn in her eyes became the hot wash of tears against her cheeks. She wiped them off as Tekoa knelt on the other side of Clay.
"When one of my people is sick or injured we perform a sing for them. I'd like to do one for Clay."
Her gaze jerked upward to meet his. "A healing ceremony? Like one of the ceremonies in the Tony Hillerman stories?"
He smiled. "Tony Hillerman, huh? I've got some of his books. But no, I'm not like Chee and I'm not one of the Dineh, the Navajo."
"What are you then?"
"In English you'd call us the People of the Thunderbird. Will you allow me to do a healing for Clay?"
"Can I watch?"
"You can stay in the room if you'll close your eyes."
Beneath her hand a hard shudder went through Clay. "I'll keep my eyes closed. Can I stay where I am?"
"As long as you don't touch him."
He placed his hand over hers where it rested on Clay's chest and her heart fluttered in a way it hadn't for anyone else since the day she met Clay.
Would Clay be attracted to Tekoa? Was this the type of man he wanted for a lover?
She shivered, unable to deny that a part of her had liked catching Tekoa looking at her. "He'll be okay," Tekoa said, squeezing her hand then standing. "I want to change into more traditional clothing. It'll take me a few minutes."
He walked to the far end of the cabin, moving with the same easy confidence as Clay. He took what he wanted from a dresser drawer then crossed to the bathroom.
Their eyes met and held. She dropped her gaze first, guilty heat crawling up her neck and into her cheeks. She shouldn't be noticing Tekoa, shouldn't be attracted to him, not with Clay injured.
"Clay," she said, rubbing her fingertips over his nipple, urging him to respond, suddenly needing reassurance that he was going to be okay, that they were going to be okay.
His eyelids fluttered open. The pupils were still uneven but not any worse.
She brushed a kiss against his lips. "How do you feel?"
"Chest hurts. Less now. Sleepy." He blinked rapidly. "Concussion, right?"
"Yes."
He closed his eyes. She touched her mouth to his forehead. He mumbled, "Didn't mean to get off to such a bad start."
"We'll be back on track soon."
But not on the same track. Everything had changed—except how much she loved him. And how much he loved her. If she didn't believe in them, really, really believe that he was the man for her, they'd be on their way home right now instead of in Tekoa's cabin.
"Should have waited to tell you. Didn't mean to blurt it out in the car like that." Clay shuddered. "Wish I wasn't, but I am."
Ache returned like a fist around her heart. He'd convinced himself that he was mostly heterosexual, that's what he'd said after The Revelation and she believed him.
But what if he was wrong about being bi, too? What if they became a threesome and a year down the road, or two years down the road, or later, he realized that he was mostly attracted to other men.
It seemed impossible, given their sex life. But…
A year ago, a month ago, a day ago—a few hours ago—she'd have bet everything she owned that he was straight. And she'd already given him the things that had the most value, her trust, her heart.
She spun the ring, closed her hand so the diamond dug into the back of her fingers, as if pain could drive out the uncertainty. Maybe just knowing you accept the need will be enough to keep it manageable, he'd said but that was more hope than belief.
She took a deep breath. Right now their future together wasn't what she should be worrying about. She wanted to believe that Tekoa could help Clay with a healing ceremony, but afterward, she'd ask him to check the status of the roads.
The bathroom door opened and Tekoa stepped out like warrior from the past, wearing a loin cloth and bare skin. His hair fell in thick black waves over his shoulders and back. On either side of his face, feathers and beads the same color as the thick rug she and Clay were on, a combination of red, blue, yellow, black and white, had been woven into a thin braid.
Her eyes caught on Tekoa's as he came toward her
and his gaze held the same fierceness, the same sense of power and wildness present in the Thunderbirds on top of the totem poles.
Everything inside her tightened and heated. Her breasts grew heavy and achy, her sex wet and swollen.
She shivered, imagined herself naked and waiting on a blanket for him to come to her. Admit you're attracted, she told herself. Admit you can be attracted to someone else and it doesn't change what you feel for Clay.
Her heart banged harder. The admission that would come after those two would be accepting that Clay could be attracted to someone else, and that'd lead to a decision about whether or not to act on that attraction.
She ripped her eyes from Tekoa's. They landed on the loincloth and the erection straining against the soft material.
Heat flushed into her face and burned hotter at discovering she was stroking Clay's abdomen as if willing his cock to harden.
Tekoa knelt on the other side of Clay and said, "If you'll shut your eyes, I'll start."
She slammed them closed, her heart speeding and aching, tears forming. I'm not a cheater, she wanted to tell him. If this had happened earlier in the day, before The Revelation…
Despite the physical attraction, Tekoa probably pitied Clay for having asked her to marry him. He was probably anxious to get her out of his cabin before she crossed the line by coming on to him.
She balled her hands in her lap and Tekoa's voice filled the cabin. It started low and slow but grew louder and faster.
He'd called it a sing, but she couldn't separate the sounds into individual words though they resonated inside her, felt as if they struck some familiar, deep place
The ache in her chest eased. Her fingers relaxed and unfurled. The sense of being where she was supposed to be filled her, as if the song was a chord that linked her soul to the past and to the power that was earth and wind and water and fire.
Tekoa didn't have a drum but she heard one beat, the sound of it like a heart growing stronger, louder, returning to health. Tears wet her cheeks, called from her as if the song and the drum were reaching into her and healing the place left raw by Clay's confession.
She wiped at the tears without opening her eyes and Tekoa's voice grew low and slow again. His song touched her soul and she turned her face away, afraid that even with her eyes closed he would glimpse her terrible fear of losing Clay, of having their relationship come to an end.
The song built and gathered power. It blended and merged with the phantom drum.
It grew louder. Faster. Lifted as if reaching upward to where Thunderbirds soared. And Jessica went with it, her breath a gasp into the sudden silence.
Heart pounding in her ears she opened her eyes and Clay smiled up at her, his pupils even, normal.
She touched his mouth with trembling fingers. Her tears fell onto his chest and then onto his face. "You're okay?"
He covered her hand with his, smiled against her fingers. "You're raining on me, babe."
Her laugh was a choked sob. "I can't help it."
His hand curled around hers, squeezed. "I'm good. I wrecked the car?"
"A boulder slammed into it and we went off the road."
"Don't remember. Feel like I've been in some funky Western."
She bit her bottom lip and risked a glance at Tekoa. His easy smile said he wasn't offended.
Clay followed her gaze. His eyes heated and his hand loosened on hers as if she was no longer there.
Ache returned to her chest and spread. I'm not enough for him. I'll never really be enough. Her throat tightened. Her heart was a leaden weight sinking into a hollowed stomach.
Clay's cock hardened and lifted away from his abdomen. She'd wondered if he would be attracted to Tekoa and now she knew.
She glanced at Tekoa and found his gaze locked on Clay's, his eyes heated the same way they'd been when he'd looked at her.
Maybe just knowing you accept the need will be enough to keep it manageable, Clay had said but here was the chance for him to get what he needed, what he'd denied himself since meeting her. She rubbed her thumb over her engagement ring.
Can I really share him? Can he really share me? Or would this be the beginning of the end?
She pulled her hand from beneath Clay's and stood. "I'm going outside for a few minutes."
Tekoa stood. Cop instinct and the ability to read a situation took over where a second before he'd been healer and Thunderbird spirit.
He grasped Jessica's arm and kept her from escaping the room. He'd let her go in a minute.
There was no missing that Clay was bisexual and she was aware of it. Or that she was physically attracted to him though she was fighting the attraction.
It was a start and he wouldn't give her time to shore up her defenses. The three of them were meant to be together and he wanted to get it out in the open now.
He shoved his free hand into her hair. Her eyes widened but by the time she tried to pull away his mouth was on hers.
Mine, he thought and pleasure highjacked him with the feel of her soft lips, the first hint of her taste.
A thrust of his tongue and that taste deepened, intoxicated. She was what he'd dreamed of having, a mate to fly with when the storm called. And he wouldn't allow her to run away or deny her physical response.
His tongue swept her mouth, thrust against hers and her nipples hardened, stabbed him through her shirt and bra. Her body yielded in a way that said she liked a dominant lover and a searing wave of lust burned through his cock.
He wanted her. Here. Now. With Clay watching.
She shivered as her barriers dropped. She whimpered, her lips soft under the onslaught of his, and somehow he managed not to cup her mound, to push his hand beneath her panties so there'd be no hiding the truth.
He would mate with her. He would mount her and she'd welcome his cock.
But he didn't want to push too far, too fast. He didn't want to back her into an emotional corner where running or fighting became her only options.
He lifted his mouth. Easily read the panic, the guilt, the desire and fear in her eyes before she pulled away and escaped to the porch.
Clay stood, his heart trying to climb up his throat and go after Jess. Fuck! So far he was zero for three when it came to smart moves.
He fisted his hands but didn't know who deserved the punch more, him for responding physically to another man in front of Jess, or the other man for coming on to her. But Christ, it's not like he could have controlled his dick.
He remembered their driving past the totem poles. Remembered her saying she heard drums beating, and then… Memory wipe until there'd been incredible warmth.
Slowly he'd become aware of the singing. Then a drum beating, controlling the rhythm of his heart. And that drum had been joined by other drums, by other voices, and all of them had seemed ancient.
He'd opened his eyes, and it'd been like a waking dream. An old Native American guy squatted on the other side of a campfire, crushing a tobacco leaf and rolling it into a cigarette.
Tekoa. He is the one you were hoping to find.
A thousand drums were beating but the old man's words sliced through the noise like a kayak through roaring water. And then the campfire exploded into streaks of red, yellow, blue, and white and that was followed by absolute blackness.
There'd been a sense of coming home, of rightness. And on some level he'd known there was a man with Jess.
He'd been half aroused before he'd opened his eyes and seen Jess's beautiful face. And then he'd turned his head and seen a wet dream in a loin cloth and he couldn't have stopped his cock from hardening if he'd jumped into an icy stream.
He scrubbed his hands over his face then speared his fingers through his hair and jerked. How many more ways was he going to screw up today?
His heart demanded that he go to Jessica even if it meant standing bare-assed naked in the cold, but his head—the big one that was actually doing the thinking despite what his dick was saying—said maybe he needed to take a minute to fi
nd out what the hell was going on here. Maybe it'd be smart to give her some time. It wasn't like she hadn't responded when she was grabbed and kissed.
He dropped his hands to his sides. "You're Tekoa?"
"Yes."
He must have heard the name sometime after the wreck. What he hadn't seen was an old man squatting in front of a fire. What he hadn't heard was that old guy telling him Tekoa's name and saying he was meant to be their third.
Still, be couldn't shake the rightness, the feeling that everything that had happened today had led to this moment, this place, this man. But maybe he was still concussed and having the mother of all erotic dreams.
Jess was the one with the imagination. She was the one who liked the metaphysical stuff.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. Didn't feel like he was still concussed. In fact, he felt pretty damn fine.
That had his heart taking off in a sprint. Had him shivering at the sudden slide of ice down his spine. When his cousin Selina had told him about this area, she'd said, It's magical.
Yeah. Right. Not going there. Except here he was standing buck-naked with a boner in front of a guy wearing a loincloth and sporting a hard-on. A guy who'd kissed Jess like she already belonged to him. A guy Jess wanted.
"I owe you, but… Fuck. I don't want Jess hurt. It was a tough day before the car went off the road. So lay off. Okay? Don't push her." Christ, he couldn't believe he was still hard. "Fuck."
"We'll get to that." Tekoa glanced toward the cabin door. "You need some clothes. And she's probably ready for some reassurance." Lifting a wooden cup from the mantel above the fireplace, he said, "Drink this first."
* * * * *
Chapter 3
Clay took the offered cup. Honey-warm liquid slid down his throat and the warmth it generated was like what he'd experienced before he'd opened his eyes in the waking dream.
He wanted to reach for his cock. Fuck, he wanted to reach for Tekoa's. The need and desire were beyond anything he'd ever felt for another man. It nearly drove him to his knees. It nearly had him drawing Tekoa forward, guiding him downward.
