Opal's Wish: Book Four of The Crystal Warriors Series

by Maree Anderson

  Pieter harbored a great deal of fondness for Ruby—and her unique way with words. Even Saiytada might be impressed by her command of—

  “If ya’ve quite finished figuring out what ta tell me and what ta leave out, I’ll take ya to see Danbur.” Max offered his hand to Sera and they headed into the house, leaving Pieter standing on the stoop, his mouth agape. He closed his mouth with a snap that would have been audible had anyone been around to hear it. Goddess save him from too-perceptive men like Max. He strode after them, already dreading what he would find.

  Max released Sera’s hand and knocked on a door. “Ya up to some visitors, Danbur?” he called, pressing his ear to the door.

  There was no answer. Max shot Pieter a glance that clearly said he didn’t want Sera upset by what he might find when he opened the door.

  Worry churned Pieter’s gut. He should have scryed Danbur before setting off on this fool’s mission. He should have told the taxi driver to take them elsewhere—to a mall, where he could have distracted Sera with ice cream and the kinds of stores that little girls admired. He should have done a lot of things—chief among them not being swayed by a child’s demands. He took Sera’s hand and grasped it tightly.

  “He’s not in there,” Sera said, tugging on Pieter’s hand. “He’s this way.”

  Pieter allowed himself to be towed away—toward the kitchen if he wasn’t mistaken.

  He wasn’t. And neither was Sera. “Dan!” She slipped from Pieter’s grasp and raced to the big man.

  Danbur turned from the stock pot and Sera skidded to halt, one small bunched fist going to her mouth, her face scrunching with dismay. “What happened to your face? Did you get in a fight?”

  Danbur ignored Pieter—and Max, who’d just barreled through the doorway. He squatted on his haunches and held out his arms. “I’ve missed you, Sera,” he said. The little girl threw herself at him, and his arms closed protectively around her as though she were the most precious thing in his world.

  It was a sight to see, the heavily muscled, black-skinned warrior who exuded menace as unconsciously as breathing, nose-to-nose with the pale-skinned redheaded child who had palmed his cheeks and was staring intently at him through the thick lenses of her glasses. And damned if Pieter’s eyes didn’t prick with an emotion that he quickly blinked away before Max noticed and cracked some wiseass comment.

  Max might not have noticed, but Mickey certainly had, and she had no compunctions about calling him on it. “Now that’s what I call a reunion. Brings a tear to your eye, doesn’t it, Peter?” She exited the walk-in larder and sauntered past him to give Max a brisk peck on the cheek.

  Pieter decided his best defense was to say nothing. Luckily Sera distracted them all by patting Danbur’s face and loudly demanding to know how he’d gotten those scrapes and bruises.

  “’Tis nothing for you to worry about, little one,” Danbur told her. “A misunderstanding, nothing more. The issue has been settled to everyone’s satisfaction. Is that not correct, Mickey?”

  “You should see the other guys,” Mickey muttered, rolling her eyes in that classic “Men!” gesture perfected by women the world over.

  Pieter mentally swept Mickey’s surface thoughts and plucked details of the incident from her mind.

  A newcomer had made a lewd comment. It had been water off a duck’s back and she’d calmly suggested the man mind his manners. He’d not taken the hint. He’d gotten even more personal, provoking two of the regulars who frequented the shelter to teach him a lesson about respect. The resulting melee had proven a challenge for one lone woman to break up, and Mickey had been reaching for the fire extinguisher to spray some sense at them when Danbur strode in… and immediately set about breaking up the fight. Not to mention dressing down the participants, and finishing by putting the fear of God into the man who’d started it all. Efficient as Danbur had been, he’d nevertheless been on the receiving end of a few punches. Which of course he’d refused to allow Mickey to doctor.

  But it was more than a blackened eye Mickey was worried about. Danbur’s stomach pains were causing her a great deal of concern.

  “I knew you were hurting.” Sera’s voice was squeaky with distress, her small body shaking. “I knew it. That’s why I made Mr. Stone bring me to see you—to make you feel better. You do feel better now I’m here, right?” She peered at him, her pert little nose wrinkled with anxiety.

  Danbur chucked her under the chin. “Seeing you always makes me feel better, little one.” He stood, one hand on the child’s head. His gaze fixed on Pieter and although he seemed relaxed enough, his eyes were troubled. “My thanks to you, Peter Stone. Though I cannot help but wonder if this encounter will make certain things more… difficult to cope with in the future.”

  Pieter nodded, conceding the point. “Perhaps. But I found myself powerless to refuse Sera’s plea to see you again.”

  Sera tugged on Danbur’s hand and he scooped her up and settled her in the crook of one arm. “What is it, little one?”

  “I wish you weren’t so far away, Dan. If you were staying a bit nearer to us then you wouldn’t feel sick in the tummy all the time.” Her lower lip wobbled. “And we wouldn’t let you get bullied by mean people, neither.”

  Mickey’s chin jerked like she’d been slapped. She frowned and Pieter heard the metallic chink as stud piercing her tongue tapped against her teeth. She narrowed her gaze at Sera, obviously working through some sticky idea. She was a smart woman, so sooner or later it was bound to occur to her that Danbur’s pain had noticeably eased in the half-hour before Sera had appeared on the doorstep. And, as soon as Sera departed, that it had worsened again.

  Mickey opened her mouth and, out of options, Pieter fired one overwhelming thought into her brain.

  “How about some choc-chunk cookies?” she asked. And her frown became more pronounced as she tried to figure how that question had issued from her mouth. “Uh, fresh baked this morning,” she mumbled.

  “Yes, please.” Sera clapped her hands. “I’m starving!”

  Mickey blinked and momentarily put aside her unease to play hostess to her unexpected guests. Pieter cast his thoughts outward and goosed the three most susceptible minds he encountered. He heard footsteps, and the three men shuffled in, asking to help with the evening’s meal preparations and distracting Mickey further.

  Next, Pieter prodded Max, who obligingly announced he had to get to the hardware store before closing. Pieter blessed his luck that he had gotten away with a minimum of intervention. Thanks to Opal’s continued resistance, his energy reserves were nowhere near optimum levels at the moment.

  Danbur wolfed down three cookies, ruffled Sera’s hair, and then returned to oversee the contents of the stock pot. Sera tore her worried gaze from the big warrior and fixed it upon Pieter. The decadent chocolate cookie turned to ashes in his mouth. He swallowed, and regretfully placed the remainder of the cookie on his plate.

  “I don’t like Dan staying here,” Sera said. “He’s too far away. It hurts him. Can he come stay with us?”

  “I don’t think your mother would be very happy with that arrangement.”

  “Mommy likes Dan a lot. She just doesn’t want to.”

  A very perceptive comment. Pieter tried another tack. “A big man like Danbur eats an awful lot,” he said. “And you and your mommy don’t have a lot of spare money. Having him stay would be a hardship.”

  Sera’s hopeful expression died. “I didn’t think of that. I don’t want mommy to have to work more. She works hard enough already.”

  Pieter waited, hoping she would drop the subject. But Sera was made of sterner stuff. “Couldn’t he stay with you?” she asked.

  Goddess save him.

  She sensed his resolve wavering and pressed her advantage. “It is all kinda your fault, Mr. Stone. If you’d given Dan’s crystal to Mommy instead of me, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  Guilt punched him right between the eyes. The child was right. Best intentions aside, he’d in
itiated this whole mess. And if he couldn’t convince Saiytada to dissolve the bond and give Danbur another chance, the least he could do is house the man somewhere his close proximity to Sera would minimize his suffering until the crystal took him again.

  “Yes,” he said. “Danbur can stay with me.”

  Sera’s answering smile was so bright it was a wonder it didn’t blind him. Sweet Mother help him, he was putty in her hands. From the moment he’d first laid eyes on her he hadn’t stood a chance.

  ~~~

  Opal had shooed Annie upstairs to have a super-quick shower and get ready while she finished up in the kitchen. She put away a stack of pans, wiped her hands on the dishtowel, glanced around, and heaved a sigh. Almost done. She transferred the green leaf salad to a pretty serving dish, covered it with cling wrap, and stowed it in the refrigerator. She’d told Annie to put the vinaigrette on the table and let the guests serve themselves, rather than dressing the salad beforehand. Nothing worse than limp, over-dressed salad greens in her opinion.

  The raw vegetable platter was good to go, too. The hummus was homemade, as per a recipe Opal had coaxed from one of the models she’d roomed with. It wasn’t a fancy flavored hummus like you got in a store, but the addition of ground cumin made it a just little bit special. The important thing was that Annie had made it from scratch, and it tasted great.

  The frozen steaks that had sparked this simple menu idea had been carefully thawed with a little help from the microwave—a task Opal had done herself as she couldn’t risk Annie par-cooking them by accident. They’d been seasoned and now sat at room temperature, ready for pan-searing. This was the most crucial part of Opal’s meal plan. If Annie over-cooked them they could end up tough as old boots, but provided she timed them to five or six minutes per side, and remembered to let them rest before serving, they should be perfect—

  So long as neither Conrad nor his guests liked their steaks rare.

  Shit. Opal gnawed the inside of her cheek. Now was hardly the time to majorly stress Annie with explanations of how to time a rare steak—or a well-done one for that matter. It was far too late in the game. Medium it would have to be. And hopefully the guests would be too charmed by Annie’s bubbly personality to notice, or too polite to comment if their steak wasn’t cooked exactly to their preference. Besides, pan-frying was the most straightforward method Opal could think up for an inexperienced cook like Annie—well, other than having Conrad slap the steaks on the grill, and Annie had nixed that suggestion.

  Opal felt a twinge of envy in her belly when she thought of Conrad’s über-fancy grill. It was gorgeous. What she wouldn’t give to have that baby sitting in her backyard. With judicious use of marinades and sauces, even the cheapest cuts of meat could taste heavenly. Not to mention the added bonus that even the most reluctant male chef tended to enjoy tossing meat on a grill….

  A daydream rolled over her, sweeping her away. She was in the kitchen—not this kitchen, however. A homey, welcoming kitchen, dominated by a scarred wooden table and chairs, and a refrigerator covered in children’s drawings. The kind of kitchen that was the heart of a home.

  She heard the shoosh of the ranch slider opening but didn’t glance up from the pile of fresh herbs she was chopping. She knew who it was.

  His bare feet slapped the tiled floor. The mouthwatering aroma of grilled meat perfumed the air as he set the serving dish on the table. And she waited, breath hitching with anticipation, for him to wind his arms about her waist and press his lips to the sensitive skin of her throat and set her afire. Her limbs trembled, even though he hadn’t yet touched her, hadn’t yet given her what she wanted—needed. And then his hands were on her hips, warm and heavy and insistent as he turned her to face him.

  She twined her arms about his neck and pressed her body flush against his, showing him what she wanted so desperately but couldn’t voice because the things she wanted to say were so raw and honest and real that the words stuck her throat.

  He didn’t need her spoken words to know what she wanted, how she wanted it. He kissed her, teased her with lips and tongue and the feather-light strokes of his fingertips until she—

  “Danbur!” Opal’s hoarse cry bounced off the walls of Annie’s spacious kitchen, shocking her back to the present.

  She heard Annie calling her name, her voice panicked, her footsteps short sharp taps as she rushed into the kitchen as fast as her stilt-like heels could carry her, the hem of her pink silk cocktail dress swirling about her thighs. “Opal? Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

  Opal couldn’t speak, couldn’t force the words from her throat. Not that she had a clue what to say to Annie in any case. She opened the refrigerator, hoping the cool air would dispel the heat from her flushed face. And somehow, she set aside the insistent throbbing of her needy body, and the shocking tingles of arousal still arrowing through her veins. She’d transferred the mousse-filled ramekins from the freezer to the refrigerator, and now she gave one an experimental wobble.

  She blinked. And checked another ramekin. Well, look at that. They’d set. She pointed to the dishes and beckoned Annie closer.

  Annie pressed her palms to her cheeks. “Don’t tell me the mousse has set?”

  Opal nodded. And hunched her shoulders as Annie crowed her delight. The huge hug Annie gave her was lovely, though—made the extra hours she’d spent helping out worth it.

  She heard the thrum of a car engine and quickly pulled away.

  “Oh my God, that’s Conrad.” Annie’s eyes rounded, her expression a mix of excitement and dread. “Which means our guests aren’t too far away.”

  “I sh-sh-should go.”

  Annie nodded. And then held up a finger. “Give me one sec. Don’t leave until I get back. Promise?” She raced from the kitchen before Opal could respond.

  Conrad called out from the entranceway and, thankfully, headed straight upstairs. Opal glanced around the kitchen, mentally ticking off each task. One last peek at the dining room confirmed the table setting was perfect. There was nothing more she could do. It was all up to Annie now.

  She heard Annie’s heels on the stairs again and went to meet her, painfully conscious of how badly her legs wobbled, like she’d… she’d…. Been thoroughly kissed. She shoved the thought away.

  “Here.” Annie thrust a fat envelope and the promised Vogue magazine into Opal’s hands, and squeezed her in another hug, this one so tight that Opal squeaked.

  “And I don’t want to hear any BS about it being too much,” Annie said, mock-frowning. “You deserve it, Opal. I learned more from you in two hours than I’ve learned from years of watching cable cooking shows. Thank you sooo much. You’re the best friend ever.”

  Opal blinked. Friends? That was… startling. She had always been careful not to read anything into Annie’s friendly behavior—it was just Annie’s way.

  Annie seemed to intuit her thoughts for she grabbed Opal by the shoulders. “I’d very much like to be your friend, Opal—if you’d let me. You must know by now I don’t give a toss where you live, or what clothes you wear, or how much money you earn and how you earn it. I know it’s hard for you to believe but—”

  Conrad yelled something about a shirt. Annie groaned. “God, he’s hopeless. Look, I know it’s a lot to lay on you all at once so we’ll talk later, okay?”

  A car horn sounded a series of short staccato beeps, and Conrad yelled again, his voice muffled.

  “That’ll be the taxi I called for you,” Annie said, towing Opal toward the door. “I included extra to cover the fare, so don’t you dare send it away and take the bus or I’ll be really pissed with you.” She scrunched her brows in what she probably imagined was a scary face. “And you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry,” she intoned in a truly terrible attempt at Bruce Banner on the brink of morphing into the Hulk.

  Opal couldn’t help her smile, despite being dragged unceremoniously to the front door.

  Annie brushed Opal’s cheek with her lips, removed the resulting lipstick s
mear with a swipe of her thumb, and gave her a gentle push. “I’m not shutting this door until you get in that taxi,” she called. “So if Conrad’s still shirtless when our guests arrive it’ll be all your fault!”

  Yikes. Opal broke into a run and climbed into the taxi. She returned Annie’s wave as the taxi driver roared off. And then she collapsed against the seatback, mentally exhausted by the conflicting emotions and thoughts roiling in her brain.

  It wasn’t until the car pulled up to the curb outside her house and she had to pay the taxi driver his fare that she realized just how much “extra” Annie had stuffed in the envelope. Two hundred cash in total.

  Opal didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Surely a “friend” would understand Opal didn’t expect to be paid for showing her how to cook a damn meal? That it was kind of insulting? Opal wasn’t a charity case. She didn’t need handouts, didn’t want to be Annie’s cause.

  A little voice told her she was being too hard on Annie. She would have to sit Annie down and explain a few things. Maybe then they could start being real friends. As for this wad of cash….

  An idea bloomed. She would give the extra to Peter, and ask him to donate it to the shelter Roth had taken Danbur to. That way she would be helping Danbur, albeit indirectly.

  Danbur.

  A pang squeezed her heart at the thought of him—of how he might be coping. Or not coping. She rubbed her breastbone. She would ask Peter to check up on him…. And report back. Just to ease her mind. Not because she couldn’t stop thinking about him, dreaming about him. Imagining him kissing her… and doing other things. Intimate things. Things women were supposed to enjoy immensely and that Opal had only read about in books, or remembered from frank conversations with her roommates a long time ago.

  A man who looked like Danbur must have countless women throwing themselves at him. He would have had his pick of them, and he had to have learned a thing or two about pleasing them in bed. She could do worse than give in to the intense attraction she felt for him and invite him into her bed. But even as her body tightened at the prospect of making love with Danbur, fear prickled her skin. He was so big, so strong and dominant. If he chose to hurt her she would be powerless to stop him.