Delara turned her full attention to Xamien. He remained in the same position, legs outstretched and in an informal posture, but his drink stayed untouched on the side table. He rarely touched the stuff, at least when she’d been at his place. He said it numbed the pleasure; he always wanted the full effect of what their bodies were experiencing.
“Yeah I’ll talk to him,” Xamien said. He picked up his glass, swirled the clear liquid twice and then took a long drawl. Well, it wasn’t like there would be any sex happening here. The movement of the alcohol sent a wave of its scent through the air and she smelled the coolness of straight vodka. Simple and direct, just like him. He told her what he wanted and what he didn’t want. That was exactly how both of them wanted it—simple. Sex on occasion and no strings.
Xamien cleared his throat while setting his glass down. “Oh we have lots of strings Kitten. Or would you rather call them chains?”
Her eyes darted to his face and she noticed the twinkle in his eyes. Amusement. He was toying with her and it riled her further. “So are the rumors true?” She offered a smile in return and raised both brows. “Are you really as piss poor in bed as they say you are?”
“Playing with fire, sweetness.”
“Friggin’ Christ, Delara.” Jedrik slapped the heel of his hand on his forehead in utter disbelief.
Keir stood, knocking over his chair in the process. Damien’s shoes crunched across the glass on the floor and he left the room.
Xamien laughed; his deep baritone filling the room, the sound having both Keir and Jedrik stunned. Keir sat again and refilled his glass then sat back looking from one to the other.
“And you’re so asking for it.” “Playful and cute,” Xamien said. “And if you weren’t...” his grin widened and he winked, “...in love with another man I’d suggest you find out for yourself.”
“Don’t bring him into this.” She scrunched her hands into her jeans.
“He’s always in it, Kitten.” He reached for his glass and swallowed the last of the vodka. He rose and strode towards her and she straightened, raised her chin and met his brooding expression head on, despite the emotions running havoc on her body. She was holding her own, considering her secret lover was here and speaking telepathically about their interludes while her Talde watched with no idea that something was being said in-between words. But it was dangerous. One of them was going to find out if Xamien didn’t get his ass back to Spain. Alone.
He stopped inches away from her now heaving chest and she felt Jedrik’s hand on her forearm. Xamien’s eyes were somber with a hint of indecision, as if he was deciding whether to goad her further or not. Refusing to back away, she waited the several seconds before Xamien tilted his head to the side in a nod.
“I can see why he loved you.” Xamien’s expression was thoughtful. “He was foolish to let you go. Another man will sweep you into his heart. Soon.”
Dumbfounded by his words, Delara’s only reaction was to drop her jaw and stare. Xamien rarely mentioned her and Waleron’s past. It was one of those things they kept out of their conversations. But he knew about all of it, had lived her memories during mindweaving. Then she had come to him after she lost her child, but that hadn’t been sexual, it was mere support. He hadn’t seen her again until they hooked up after the Trinity scenario three years ago. She’d been so hurt that she’d blurted her pain to him. They’d never mentioned Waleron since.
****
Xamien made his way to the guest bedroom downstairs in the basement. When Waleron had asked him to come to Toronto to escort Delara back to Spain, he’d been wary of interfering; he knew it wasn’t as simple as it sounded. Delara and Waleron’s toxic love was known throughout the Senses world. He knew it intimately after the mindweaving. Even if they kept Waleron out of their interludes, Xamien felt the man all around her. She never went anywhere without a piece of him.
Xamien had asked Waleron why he wouldn’t just Trace her to Spain and the Taldeburu admitted that Delara was disinclined to go anywhere. No shit. It would be considered breaking a law to Trace with her unless she willingly accepted. Waleron never went against their laws. Ever.
What he did know was that Waleron and Delara hadn’t been together for a good twenty years. Not even once, according to Delara. It was one of the first questions he’d asked her when she came to him. If Delara had been sleeping with Waleron, there wouldn’t have been “a fling.” He may not be a friend of Waleron’s but the guy was a Taldeburu and that required some sort of loyalty. Xamien’s loyalty changed when Delara became more than just his occasional lover—they were friends and now his loyalty was to her. Waleron refused to be with Delara—his loss.
On Delara’s last visit to Spain several months ago, he’d read the revenge like a big huge billboard on her mind. Revenge was hazardous, but after what she suffered, Xamien couldn’t blame her. His Kitten had nails and no doubt there was already a claw stuck in Waleron from that skirmish about her facing and fighting Tarek.
Xamien entered the guest bedroom, closing the door behind him. He stood for a moment, looking around at the sharp clean lines of the room and wishing he’d at least brought more of his books to lie around and offer a little character. Xamien took out the latest Tom Clancy novel from his knapsack and then propped himself up on the bed. He finished half a page before he heard the loud knock on the door. He raised his brows at the scent drifting across his senses. Interesting. Perhaps he’d forego reading Tom tonight.
“Come in,” Xamien called. He remained where he was, but lowered his book to his lap.
Delara opened the door and stood on the threshold, looking rather perturbed with wild strands of hair hanging on either side of her face and her fingers tapping on her thighs. Nope, Tom was for certain being read. She looked ready to throttle him.
“What’s your deal?” she asked, lacking the polite nonsense people usually offered when intruding on another’s personal space. She came right to the point. He liked that. “I don’t get why you’re here. You have to leave, Xamien.”
He picked up his book and showed her the cover. “Have you read Tom Clancy?” Her exasperation had him twitching a grin, which luckily he kept from taking form. “I swear I feel like I’m there when I read his words on the page. Hypnotic, really. Do you read in bed, Delara? I’ve only known you for doing more…vigorous activities there.” He heard the word bastard sweep across her mind, but she kept herself in check.
“What does reading—”
“Clears the mind.” Xamien placed his book beside him on the comforter. “Takes you to another place when nothing else can do it for you. Relaxing. Perhaps you should try it. But understand—you will never find a place for it while in my bed.” He knew his words would piss her off, but he wanted her to stop and think. She was acting impulsively and that led to dangerous situations. Her mind was pulsating with confusion concerning Tarek, Waleron, and even him. With revenge on her mind the last thing he wanted was for her to act without thinking it through.
“What does reading a bloody book have to do with anything?” Hackles raised, she pulled back her shoulders and dug her fingers into her jeans. “Are you being obtuse or just trying to push my buttons? Cause right now I’m really pissed. I can’t have you here.”
Xamien smiled. This woman had found some of her spirit. It was nice to see. When she came to him, after leaving Waleron in the arms of Trinity over three years ago, she’d been completely broken, the despair so traumatizing that it took several weeks before she started talking. Not worse than when he’d mind weaved with her and nothing compared to her despair over losing her child, but she was traumatized. Deeply.
She had reminded him of a delicate flower lacking the water needed to thrive and blossom, the sunshine to grow. Inside, she’d been slowly drying up and wilting away, everyday losing one more petal. Apparently, she’d been watered in the last few months. He’d noticed her strength returning the last time he’d seen her, too.
“No, I suspect you can’t have me here.
It would be rather inappropriate to have sex when everyone is concerned about Tarek rising in twenty-four hours. Besides, Galen is a Taster, he could taste our—”
She lowered her voice. “Xamien stop.”
He leaked into her mind and saw the war of emotions—relieved to have him here, someone she trusted, yet worried her revenge against Tarek would be taken from her. Too much worrying and contemplation.
“Waleron won’t let me stay,” Delara said. “When he...damn it I need to stay here.” She looked up and he saw the pleading in her eyes. All wavering in her voice stopped as she said, “I won’t be the hunted.”
“I know that, Kitten.”
Though Xamien didn’t personally know Waleron, he knew of him and respected him more than any other man walking this earth. The man lived and breathed the Senses. He also lived and breathed this woman who stood in the doorway of his bedroom; a woman that was presently making his jeans uncomfortably snug. A woman he’d fucked numerous times. This was Waleron’s territory and Xamien was treading all over it with dirty combat boots. Bad scenario.
“I’m staying.” She said the words with a harshness that spoke determination while her posture read defensiveness.
He grinned again, unable to help himself. “Yes, I know. You said that.” And he did know. Her revenge was too strong to be thwarted by him or Waleron. One way or another, Delara would try to find a way to rise against Tarek.
“Well, just make sure you tell Waleron that,” Delara said with as much conviction as a tiger’s growl. He’d heard that growl inside his bedroom before, but it was from something far different than it was now.
She pivoted and waltzed out.
He sighed. “Guess it’s just you and me Tom.”
Chapter 3
Tarek Rises in 3 hours
Xamien felt the shifting of energy in the house and immediately knew it to be Waleron. Only three of them were capable of Tracing, the third being Zurina and her aura was much lighter when entering a domain.
“I’m not leaving.” He heard Delara’s voice coming from down the hall.
He recognized that tone, fierce and determined like she’d been last night in his bedroom. He concealed his scent along with his heartbeat and breathing then entered the hallway via the back stairs.
Delara stood with her back to Xamien while Waleron had his hands on her shoulders. She was tense, her apprehension was mixed with restlessness. Her thoughts were shielded, but since they’d mind weaved, he could easily get through her safeguards and hear her words. Let me go. Give me my heart back.
The torture Xamien heard was overwhelming and his muscles tensed at her pain-filled thoughts. His body filled with her emotions and he quickly blocked her before he went in there, tossed her over his shoulder, and ran. It was rare he’d interfere where he didn’t belong and this was certainly one of those occasions. He was in Waleron’s region and, regardless of their laws and values, he doubted Waleron would control his fury if Xamien meddled.
Xamien had been uneasy with his attraction to Delara. Damn, she had spunk. There were few who would willingly face him with such bravery. Despite his casual appearance, Xamien was merciless when it came to his enemies. His Talde often referred to his approach as the calm before the storm. Methodical and patient and then a whirlwind of lethal ruthlessness. It was in his nature to be composed. That was how he got so good at his mother’s spells, trial and error—a lot of error—with help from his mother, of course. He worked himself to exhaustion many nights when he was unable to figure out a chant or a weave, but when he failed he grew more determined and tried again and again until he mastered it.
“Pez, don’t.” Delara shoved Waleron’s hands off her shoulders and stepped out of his reach.
Xamien watched as Waleron’s body tensed, his hands curling into fists. Xamien saw movement on the side of his neck. The Scar. The black ink swirled and its eyes were deep blood red; the snake Scar circled up to Waleron’s ear then down again.
Xamien guessed rumor was true after all. Waleron did have a Scar that moved without being ordered. The question was what can the Scar do? He’d ask Waleron, but Xamien doubted the Taldeburu would be the sharing type.
Yes, best keep his sexual escapades with Delara under wraps while he was here.
“This situation is not staying like this, Delara,” Waleron warned. “I changed my mind. It is too dangerous here. Xamien will take you to Spain. This is non-negotiable.”
She spun around, her arms crossed as if a barricade against him. “Changed your mind? Bullshit. You pacified me by agreeing to let me stay here and now that I’m back you’re sending me to Spain. Just like you planned from the beginning. You lied.”
“Yes. You said you’d run, I couldn’t take that chance.”
“Tarek is my responsibility. I’m not afraid of him and I want to face him.”
Xamien easily heard the lie in her tone. He wondered if Waleron did as well or if Waleron was so blinded by her that he couldn’t. Xamien was more than curious as to why she lied to the man she loved so much—at least loved so much at one time.
“Maitagarri, you are making this more difficult than it has to be. Try to understand.” Waleron stepped close to her again and she turned her back to him. He wrapped his arms around her midsection and pulled her back against him. Xamien couldn’t hear what was said, but Waleron whispered something in her ear then trailed a light speckle of kisses along the junction of her neck and shoulder. Delara remained frozen, not reacting externally to his advances, almost as if she was fighting him without moving her limbs. Waleron must have noticed too, because he sighed then let her go. Delara couldn’t have seen it, but Xamien did—the uncertainty as Waleron raised his hand as if to stroke the back of her head then lowering it again, his fingers curling to make a fist at his side.
Damn. Xamien hadn’t realized this…while Delara and Waleron may not be together, it was obvious that there was more to them than he knew or even suspected. And Xamien had stepped right in the middle of it. Jesus, since he’d never seen them together, he hadn’t known. But it was clear that despite Waleron refusing to take Delara as his own, the Taldeburu still wanted her. But it was too late for Xamien to go back. He couldn’t. Delara had become important to him over the last three years. They had built a trust and he cared about her.
“Xamien will take you to Spain. No argument.” Waleron’s head bowed and without another word, he Traced from the room.
It took Delara two seconds to reach him with her hands on her hips and eyes blazing. She looked like a peacock with its feathers ruffled. The thought, unfortunately, put a grin on his face and caused her to scrunch her nose up further.
“Eavesdropping?” Before he could defend, or more than likely not bother, she continued, “Why didn’t you say something? You said you’d tell him.”
Xamien raised both hands in the air as if to ward of any further assault. “I did, Kitten. He refused.” The conversation had been simple—Xamien called Waleron and volunteered to stay and help protect Delara and to hunt Tarek in order for her to remain safe. Waleron’s answer was no and he hung up on him. Xamien seriously was beginning to not like the guy.
Her eyes narrowed. “Well you’re a Taldeburu, Trace to the Realm and tell the Wraiths.”
“A bit dramatic, don’t you think? Besides, it’s his decision,” Xamien replied. “You’re part of his Talde, not mine. I can offer suggestions, but nothing more. Ultimately, you should listen to him.”
“He doesn’t own me.” Her hair was up in a wide clip with a few tendrils wet and hanging down the back of her black V-neck shirt. Her feet were bare and there were still droplets of water clinging to her skin. Sexy. And off limits while he was here.
He casually leaned up against the wall, crossing his arms. “We could be spending our time better than this, Kitten. If you come to Spain, I promise to make you scream at least three times a day.”
She huffed, blowing air from her mouth and her jagged strands billowed away from her face. God, h
e adored the way her upper lip quivered when she was angry. He wondered if she knew she did that. Probably not. He was an observer of people and often noticed the smallest of motions. Even her baby toes failed to touch the ground when she stood, small and delicate, keeping the sensitive skin off the cold ceramic tiles.
Finding her irresistible, Xamien pushed away from the wall and approached her, his stance was casual to avoid adding to the tension she already held within her muscles. She backed away until her butt hit the narrow hallway table that held a single stainless steel bowl. The bowl vibrated and rattled on the table.
“Xamien. Don’t you dare. Not here.”
“I can’t help myself, Kitten.” Before she escaped, which was viable considering the word run pounded in her head, he grabbed her around the waist and dragged her against him. The feel of her body was delectable and it took everything in him to abstain from taking her right there in the foyer. “Damn woman, I can’t be in the same room as you without wanting to fuck you.”
She was tracking scents in the house, her head shifting in each direction while at the same time pushing at his chest. “Seriously Xamien, this isn’t funny. Let me go.”
“A kiss.” No way was he going to survive longer than one more night without taking her to his bed. Without waiting for her reply, he grabbed the back of her head and met her mouth with flurry, tasting the sweetness and spice as his lips roamed over the luscious warmth. There was no urging required; Delara sunk into him within seconds, the desire flooding them both as everything else was forgotten.
“Jesus. Stealing another man’s woman again, Xamien.”
Delara pulled away so hard and fast that she knocked her head into the wall. Xamien stepped back, but refused to let go of her hand, knowing she’d run if he did. He glanced casually at Damien who looked rather shocked and…yes, still angry. Not at them but at life in general no doubt.
“Damien, it’s not what you think,” Delara said, trying to yank her hand from Xamien’s grasp.
FALL (The Senses) Page 10