by Ann Macela
Slowly, their kiss softened, quieted, became as it had started—tender, careful, affectionate, loving.
Finally they simply hugged each other, swaying slightly, breathing rapidly, hearts thudding in unison.
As she inhaled, Johanna buried her nose between his shirt and his neck and took in his scent—part starched collar, part faint aftershave, mostly Saxton Falkner. He smelled good enough to eat—wonderful enough to take the place of her favorite dessert.
Better than that was the feel of his arms around her, his hands slowly rubbing her back, making sure no space existed between their bodies. Their centers hummed in unison.
It felt sooooo goooood, so inexpressibly incredible to be held again like this, Johanna almost burst into tears. How long had it been since she’d been in a man’s embrace? For any reason?
Oh, Lord, it was going to be so hard to let him go.
Still holding her tightly, Saxt opened his eyes. He wasn’t surprised to see that, somewhere during their kiss, the pentagon disappeared. The sexual storm consumed all their energy, not even leaving the small amount needed for spell maintenance.
God Almighty, she felt so good, pressed up against him from knees to shoulders. How could he let her go?
The answer was simple. He couldn’t. Holding her, she holding him—heaven. He’d come home to a mate after years in the solitary wilderness. If he’d had doubts before, every uncertainty now lay shattered to bits. The ring, the power sharing, that kiss, her in his arms, all unequivocally confirmed the fact: She was his soul mate, and he was hers.
As much as he might like, however, they couldn’t stand here forever. He had to raise his blood from his groin to his brain and separate their bodies. His own was clamoring for resolution and release. Although hers was probably doing the same, he saw little chance she’d agree to take the physical side farther. He’d been in too many negotiations not to know that her mind, and maybe her heart, wasn’t in the deal one hundred percent. Not yet.
He didn’t doubt his ability to convince her. Take it slow, Falkner. You’ve been through the soul-mate experience before. You know how to do it.
After one more inhalation of her sweet scent, he slowly raised his head and loosened his arms. She sighed and did the same.
“Johanna?” he whispered.
“Mmmmm?” With a dazed look, she blinked up at him.
He could appreciate the feeling. He had to concentrate to speak coherently. “What do you think? Did we prove anything?”
“Ummm-hummm.” More blinks and a slightly spacey smile.
Even with his body aching—especially one specific part—he couldn’t help grinning at her confusion. He gave her a gentle shake. “Johanna, are you in there?”
“Oh.” With a visible effort, she pulled herself together, but didn’t step out of his arms. Her voice was shaky when she said, “Oh. Yes. No. I don’t know.”
“Are you all right?”
She closed her eyes again, rested her forehead against his chest, and clutched his biceps. “I need to sit down.”
“Good idea. Let’s see if we can travel as far as the couch.”
He walked her to the couch in the dimly lit living room and sat down next to her, his right arm stretched out behind her shoulders. With his left hand, he clasped one of hers. She immediately put her other one on top and leaned her head against his arm.
Exactly where he wanted her to be.
After a few seconds of silence, Johanna raised her head. “What happened? We spun the ring, and more power built than I have ever handled. How did you come up with the idea to compress the wheel?”
He had no inkling, only … “It seemed the logical thing to do.”
“And then we kissed …”
“And I think we proved compatibility.”
“I’ve never felt that much in a kiss before.” Her shoulders slumped, and she stared at their hands.
“Me, neither.”
His flat statement brought her eyes to his. “Never?”
“No.” Saxt gave her shoulder a squeeze. “All that power from the spinning ring had to go somewhere. It flowed into us.”
She seemed to seize on that idea. “Oh, I think you’re correct. We couldn’t possibly produce that kind of power simply between the two of us.”
“Wouldn’t that be fun to get used to, though?”
She snorted. “If it didn’t kill us first.”
He chuckled. “You must admit …”
They said it together. “What a way to go.”
And started laughing. Softly, then harder, and harder still. Until they were holding on again, her in the circle of his arms, with her hands on his forearm, their heads leaning on each other’s.
When calm returned, they held the position for a few minutes. She relaxed after a little while, and he let go—almost.
“You’re not yet convinced, are you?” Saxt asked. He wanted to draw every problem, confusion, or hesitation out into the open. All his business dealings had taught him, as he’d told her, they’d work through this best with a reasoned approach.
She was quiet for a few seconds, sighed a couple more times, finally looked up at him. “I’m closer. Something’s definitely going on between us, but it still doesn’t feel right to me. Maybe my reluctance or difficulty is a matter of becoming more comfortable with you without being rushed or thrown together in a magical make-out session. We know how the imperative works—soul mates are supposed to fall into each other’s arms. That’s what happened with Billy and me. I knew Billy, however, so well, for so long. We were friends forever, all through high school.”
“You have an important point. I knew Maddy for a year or more at college before the phenomenon kicked in. Maybe you, we both need time together, to let the trust and friendship grow, let us get to know each other better.”
She snickered. “Oh, dear, how many times have I heard mothers, or fathers, or well-meaning friends, tell young women to ‘get to know the man first.’”
He was wondering where to go from here when her statement gave him an idea. Good. He could build on her need to know him and his to be with her. “Okay. I’m a man of action and decision. What if … even with our crazy days, we make time to have every meal together. Even if others are present, like these curious Council members. In the evenings, we leave the center completely, go out, see a movie, have a date.”
“That might work,” she agreed enthusiastically before she grimaced. “Oh, drat. We have that big item-destruction practice already scheduled for Wednesday night. A number of Swords have signed up, and Jake is asking Defenders for help.”
“I forgot about that.” He thought over the problems, waved them away. “No matter, we can still steal some time. I could pick you up that morning and take you home that night.”
“Yes, that would make it easier,” she agreed. “Oh, one other suggestion—let’s keep our ‘discovery’ quiet.”
“Definitely. If we’re careful, we’ll have privacy, and nobody will suspect a thing. All part of the master plan.”
Her expression changed to slightly skeptical. “I hope so.”
Saxt laughed, stood, and drew her up. He gripped her shoulders and said with every bit of confidence he could muster, “Falkner plans always work.”
She gave him an “Oh, brother!” eye-roll and grinned.
He grinned back and gave her a light kiss—he couldn’t stop himself from that—and took his leave. Driving with a stiff cock was not going to be fun. He’d better get used to it.
Chapter Thirteen
Johanna watched Saxt drive his car out of her garage and into the snowy night. When he waved good-bye, she did the same and punched the button. When the door lowered completely, a little wave of loneliness washed through her.
Wait. Was that feeling real, or was it the imperative forcing the issue?
Since the sentiment was definitely not what she experienced when anyone else left her house, of course it was the imperative butting in. No matter how ancient or powerf
ul the force was, how dare it stick its nose into her business.
“Stop that,” she snapped at it and marched into the kitchen. “You’ve had your chance at me with Billy. Now leave me alone, and let me decide on my own this time.”
The imperative didn’t answer. Her center didn’t twitch, or growl, or rumble. No outside entity jabbed, or stung, or twisted.
“Idiot imperative,” she grumbled while she cleaned up the dessert plates and coffee cups. “I refuse to think about you.”
After starting the dishwasher, she grabbed her purse, dropped her briefcase in her office, and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Talking to herself helped drown out other thoughts. “What am I going to wear tomorrow? That’s a good, practical, safe subject to consider, even if I only wear my usual uniform, long pants and a top. Hmmm. Silk blouse or sweater? What color?”
She actually succeeded in not thinking about any subject except clothes … until she took off her long pants and peeled her soft turtleneck sweater over her head. Something about the way the material slid across her skin—its silken caress, its almost silent whisper, its hair-raising electricity—brought back every move, every gaze, especially every touch that had passed between her and Saxt from the moment their hands met with the ring between them.
“Oh, God,” she moaned. Dropping her clothes on the floor, she climbed onto her high bed and wrapped herself in the spread. “How did I forget how wonderful it is to be held by a man? To hold one in my arms? To kiss and be kissed? How did I put all that out of my mind so thoroughly?”
She lay still with her eyes closed and replayed the events on the back of her eyelids like she was watching a video on YouTube. One where she could repeat sequences or speed up the action. Or, especially, slow it down.
Eventually, exhausted, she threw the spread off, tidied up her clothes, and hauled herself into the bathroom.
Mind movies simply would not help her come to a decision about the possibility Saxt was her soul mate. She couldn’t lose herself in the sensations, no matter how pleasant—although pleasant was too mild a term. She had to think rationally. Like an adult, not some teenager souped up on hormones. But, how?
What did she tell her students to do with a new spell to make the learning easier? Break it down into components. She could do the same here. What factors influenced her decision? She started the list as she washed her face and brushed her teeth.
One. She might have a new soul mate. Saxt had no doubts about them. She was not totally convinced. Or she wasn’t letting herself agree because something was holding her back.
Two. Saxt wasn’t pushing. Not like Billy had done, practically sweeping her off her feet, even when she had been more than willing to be swept away. One difference between a mature man and a young one.
Not that Saxt had not been aroused—considering what she had felt against her lower body.
Not that she hadn’t been equally …
No, don’t relive that.
Three. Being soul mates is about more than sex. She’d been correct in the need for them to get to know each other, discover what the soul-mate phenomenon promised—common interests, attitudes, as well as the differences that made life interesting. Like the couple Fergus told her about down in Texas. Totally different on the surface, absolutely complementary below it.
Four. Thinking about couples teased her with another faint memory. What reason had Saxt given for compressing their ring? The action that shared power like she’d never before? Where had she heard of a similar action?
Oh, yes. Irenee Sabel and Jim Tylan squashed a lightball when she and Fergus taught the wild talent how to cast the spell. Johanna didn’t remember if they’d reported a power surge, although their hands had glowed. Very different situation with those two, of course. As a Sword, Irenee could share with Defenders and other Swords. Jim, however, wasn’t a Defender and had shown the ability to share only with his mate, nobody else.
No, the chances of applying their situation to hers and Saxt’s were slim. She and Saxt shared with all Defenders and Swords and even more with each other. Besides, enough aberrations, differences, and exceptions existed in the practitioner world for any variation to occur.
Okay. That idea couldn’t be number four.
She finished up in the bathroom, threw her flannel pajamas on, checked the thermostat, and gazed out the window. Still snowing lightly. They might have more than another inch by morning. She hoped Saxt made it to the center all right.
As she slipped between the sheets, she glanced at her book and magazine on the chest next to the bed. No reading tonight. She knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on fiction. Reality had definitely overtaken her. She clicked off the light and snuggled into the warmth of the electric blanket.
If Saxt was here, she bet she wouldn’t need pajamas or blanket.
No, no, no. No thinking about that.
She had to be serious.
Number four. What were her reservations? No, that wasn’t the correct question. What was the single most important one?
Billy.
Johanna sat up, turned on the light again, and rose from the bed. In her bare feet, she padded to her dresser. Carefully she picked up the framed photo. She and Billy, their arms around each other, had posed for his dad that summer day, not long before …
When was the last time she’d looked, really looked at the photo? Really thought about Billy?
She couldn’t remember. Didn’t that omission tell her something?
Angling the photo toward the lamp, she studied their images.
Oh, how young they were. Teenagers. Barely adults. So much life. So much promise.
So much that never came to be.
She carefully placed the picture back in its spot and crawled into bed.
Her reluctance to accept the imperative’s call was being fueled by remembrances of Billy. Or, perhaps, more accurately, by the promises she’d made him that he was her one and only soul mate, that nobody would ever take his place in her heart. Could she keep them? Could she really keep Billy in her heart, or would she lose him totally to the force that was Saxt? How did she reconcile her feelings for Billy with a future with Saxton Falkner?
Would she feel guilty the rest of her life? For not stopping Billy from “proving” himself? No, she knew she couldn’t have done that. For forgetting him? For not remembering him often enough? Or, had she already removed him from her mind, as she’d learned by studying that photo?
Billy had been killed by that evil item seventeen long years ago. Wasn’t it time to move on with the rest of her life?
No, God, no. She didn’t want to decide that right now. Back to her original problem. What was another component in the decision mix?
Number five. The “something else” she couldn’t quite think of, or conjure up, or figure out. Saxt had talked about logically working through fears and problems. She thought over what he said, his exact words, his intonation, his expression, and still no clue presented itself as the deeper explanation.
Oh, all this thinking was getting her nowhere. She couldn’t apply “a reasoned approach” to what might be irrational. How could you even think the whole soul-mate phenomenon was logical? The entire idea was a notion out of a fairy tale.
The fact that the phenomenon and the dratted imperative were real didn’t help at all. At least she and Saxt both knew and understood about the practitioner situation. She didn’t have to explain like Irenee had to Jim, a “wild talent” who hadn’t had the slightest idea practitioners existed or that he was one. She and Saxt knew what was going on. Or maybe going on. She hoped.
Okay, what was she going to do for the moment? Give them both time, follow his vaunted “Falkner Plan,” and see what developed. She didn’t have the strength for anything else.
“Imperative,” Johanna said out loud into the dark room, “back off. No dreams. Tomorrow’s another crazy day.”
The next morning, she woke up with a smile on her face, feeling thoroughly rested. Maybe the
darn imperative was actually listening.
Chapter Fourteen
“Oh, brother, here comes trouble,” Jake muttered at lunch the next day.
Saxt looked up from his hamburger to see Phil Bellman making his way directly to them across the restaurant in the HeatherRidge Center. The tall Sword wore his usual smirk, and two of his buddies trailed in his wake.
“What’s he been up to?” Clyde asked from Johanna’s other side.
“No clue,” Johanna answered while she speared a piece of tomato. She sounded like she didn’t care to know.
Whatever Phil wanted, Saxt hoped the interruption would be quick. His plan wasn’t working out quite like he’d hoped. He and Johanna barely had time for coffee together this morning, much less a real breakfast.
Damn it, he wanted his time with her. Alone. Not in this mob scene, even at the lunch table, with Jake, Clyde, and two Defender Council members and one from the Teaching Council.
Not on top of a difficult night, full of old memories and new yearnings. He’d finally hit the gym at an ungodly hour to work off his frustration and shut up the voice in his head.
Now, after what was becoming an interminable lunch, he was hoping for a simple five minutes—long enough for a hug and a kiss to keep him going until this evening.
“Hi, everyone,” Phil said with a big smile as he stopped on Clyde’s far side.
Bellman reminded Saxt of a bear trying to pretend he was friendly and not eyeing everybody as potential lunch. A smelly bear. Even from six feet away, the aroma of his aftershave hit like a slap in the face. Saxt noticed Johanna wrinkle her nose, but she ignored the newcomer.
Clyde introduced Phil to the council members as “one of our Independent Swords.”
“What do you think of the new ring method?” the teaching master asked. “Any problems?”
“None,” Bellman answered.
Saxt shifted in his seat and gave the man a pointed frown.
“Not really,” Phil dismissed the notion of difficulty with a wave of his hand. “That’s what I wanted to talk to Saxt and Jake about. I’ve been practicing all morning, and I’m an expert in energy production—man, everything flows like the tides now. I want a place in the training in item destruction tomorrow.”