She already had my shirt unbuttoned and was working on my belt when I shifted part of my focus to her boots. Applying a little energy, I released her bootlaces, putting slack in them until I could slide them off her feet with another application of energy. Her socks followed and then I used my hands to push her pants and panties down her thighs with one smooth motion. By then Tess had my pants undone and was pushing them down my own thighs.
I focused energy, and in another second, she was naked. I started focusing on my own bootlaces, but Tess took matters into her own hands. She wrapped her legs around me, lined me up, and slid onto me until our pelvises ground together. I met her gaze and her eyes almost unfocused as we started to move together. The feelings of being inside her while at the same time feeling her sensations of surrounding me were intense. We moved together, slowly at first, and then at a pace that had both of us panting against the other.
Our mutual climax left each of us shuddering in the other’s arms, and it was all I could do to keep the levitation tat active.
When we regained our senses, we were floating horizontally at the top of our circle’s dome of energy, some twenty feet off the ground.
Chapter 8
Therese
I felt Rafe moving against me. Our arms were still wrapped around each other, and I eased my hold on him to let him move. I looked around. We were floating twenty feet off the ground. I felt relaxed, satisfied, in fact, we both did. Screwing while meshed was an incredible rush. Sharing sensations, emotions, and climaxes was nothing short of mind blowing. I stretched out, bumping my knees and elbows against the surface of the energy dome.
Raising my head, I found Rafe staring at me. I grinned and tweaked his left nipple.
“Ow! What’s that for?” he asked.
“For pissing me off, you ass.”
“Pissing you off? What about you trying to clock me one?”
“You deserved it. You didn’t have to push the issue.”
“Issue? What issue is that?”
I stared at him for a minute and felt my ire returning.
With a snort, I dropped out of the meshing and tried to sit up, banging my head against the dome which had become invisible to me as soon as I no longer had access to Rafe’s enhanced senses.
“Put us down. I want to get dressed,” I said.
He eyed me warily as if I might try to hit him again, but he lowered us. We rotated upright as we dropped.
I pushed back from him as I felt the ground beneath my toes. Turning my back on him, I looked for my clothes. My blouse was still folded neatly on my jacket, but my bra and panties had fallen into the dirt. I picked up my panties and found them coated with a light layer of the grit that made up what the locals called dirt. I shook them out and then used them to dry myself off. No longer being levitated, the remnants of our passion was now running down my thighs, and I didn’t have a towel. I certainly hadn’t been expecting the day’s events to flow as they had. Hmmm, maybe Douglas Adams had it right when he asserted that you should always know where your towel was.
When my thighs felt dry again, I tossed the damp panties onto my jacket and slipped on my leather pants. Thank God for the lining. I finished dressing as quickly as I could, keeping my back to Rafe as I did. I had to sit on my jacket to pull on my socks and boots.
Dressed, I put the soiled panties in a pocket and turned to see Rafe pulling on his boots. He was watching me.
Damn him. He could be so damn infuriating. It wasn’t that he couldn’t be as charming as a snake-oil salesman, but he could also be a total ass. What kind of jerk told you that you were sleeping with him just to keep him from straying? Hell, it wasn’t as if we were married. I didn’t even love him, well, to be honest, I had serious feelings for him, but it wasn’t love. I think it was appreciation for what he’d done for me and what he continued to do. But the sex was just sex for God’s sake, a physical release from the pent-up tensions of our training together.
His son had been almost as charming but was down with sex without complications. Thinking of Alex made me think of his mother, Laura, and how Rafe had been forced to kill her. The image of him sliding his sword into her chest stayed with me. I shook my head, forcing my thoughts away from her death.
“Are you all right?” Rafe asked. He was dressed and standing a few feet from me while eyeing me cautiously.
“I’m fine. Drop the circle. I need a drink.”
Rafe glanced up at the sun, which was still a few degrees above the western mountain peaks. “It’s early, we should keep training.”
“Ain’t gonna happen. I’m done for the day,” I said.
When he made no motion to drop the circle, I felt for it with my mind, and then released the spell that held it. Since we were meshed when Rafe put up the circle, either of us could cancel it.
I turned away from him and walked across the soccer-field-sized clearing to my Harley. I slipped a leg over the seat and turned the key that I’d left in the ignition. My helmet was hanging from the handlebars, but I had my shield tattoo now, I didn’t need the damn helmet. I tossed it to the ground, dropped the transmission into gear, and left a cloud of dust in my wake as I accelerated toward the road.
Rafe shouted something behind me, but I ignored him. The arrogant bastard could just kiss my ass. The memory of just that brought a smile to my face, but then I shook the memory from my head and accelerated. Without the helmet, the wind teared my eyes and pushed my damp hair back against my scalp.
I triggered my shield and focused on it looking like a windshield in front of the handlebars. Immediately, the wind ceased to touch me. Cool.
But with the wind totally blocked, the ride lost some of its pleasure. I canceled the tat, feeling the warmth leave the tattoo on my back as it went cold. The wind buffeted me anew. Releasing the left handlebar, I fished out my sunglasses and slipped them on before leaning into the next curve on the road back to Raton.
It took almost twenty minutes to reach town. I’d been expecting Rafe and Beast to show up in my rear view mirrors at any moment, but there was still no sign of them when I slowed for the residential areas that bordered town.
I motored past our motel; the little restaurant had already closed for the day and I kept going toward the center of town. I’d seen several bars on our way into town, and any of them would fit the bill.
Shadows were stretching across the four-lane street when I pulled into the gravel parking lot of a bar called Cowboys. Although it was early, there were already several pickups and a half dozen motorcycles parked beside the squat building.
I backed my Harley in beside the other bikes, killed the engine, and then rested the Harley on its kickstand. A couple of bikers sat on a picnic table between the lot and the wall of the bar. They were smoking tobacco and watching me as I walked toward them.
“Evening,” I said when I was within ten feet of them.
“Evenin’,” said the one on my left. He was a thirty-something man with a trim beard and neatly cut blond hair.
The man on my right nodded in greeting. He was older than the blond, maybe old enough to be his father and while the younger man was fit and muscular, the older man had a paunch that shaded his enormous belt buckle.
“Does the bar serve food?” I asked.
The younger man made a point of looking me up and down, hesitating where my tight fitting leathers hugged my hips and then hesitating again at my chest. Guys are all about eye candy. Not that I consider myself eye candy. I’m fairly tall, about five feet ten, and I’m slim with nice curves in the right places. Before Rafe started restoring my missing limbs, I had maybe ten extra pounds on me, but the healing process had burned away any excess fat, and I was eating like six thousand calories a day just to try to put a little weight back on. My hair is sort of a deep auburn red, which shows the red more in bright sunlight than shade. It’s short, partially from my Army time and partially from having one side burned off in the explosion that cost me a hand and a leg. In the ten days or so sin
ce Rafe healed my burns, a stubble has grown out at least a half inch over the burn area.
Finally, the man’s eyes reached mine, and he nodded. “Yep, they have a short menu, but you can get hot pizza and a few sandwiches. If you talk nice to the bartender, he’ll even grill you a hamburger.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I said and started past them.
“It’s not the kind of bar ladies usually enter alone. Would you like some company?”
I looked back at the younger man and his companion. I made a point of studying him from the shit-kicker boots to the bandana tied around his neck. He was muscular and neat. His leather jacket bore some patches that might or might not belong to a gang. I hadn’t seen his back so I didn’t know if he had a one or a three-piece membership patch. Then I noticed the diamond patch with the 1% mark on his left chest. So, a member of an “outlaw” biker club. Not the kind of man I wanted hanging out with me.
I shook my head. “Thanks, but no. I’m comfortable.”
The younger man pursed his lips and nodded. “Have a good evening.”
“Thank you. You too,” I said and turned away from the bikers.
The front door of the bar was mostly glass, which was encouraging. Bars that had too many one-percenters usually had solid doors and few windows. The collateral damage thing tended to make regular glass costly to maintain.
I went in. The bar wasn’t huge, but it had a few booths on the right wall and a dozen or so high tables that took up most of the area between the door and the bar. Off to my left were two pool tables, both occupied by a couple of players and a couple more observers. The main bar was only about ten percent full; it was around five p.m., so the lack of a crowd didn’t surprise me. Only about four women were among the dozen or so men. Most everyone was dressed in jeans, shit-kicker boots, and denim or leather jackets. Some wore club colors, and most I could see from the door were AMA sanctioned single patches. Which was good. A few one-percenters didn’t bother me, but I didn’t want to be a stranger in one of their private haunts.
I crossed the stained hardwood floor past several tables to the bar. There was one bartender working, and it looked like he mostly served shots or beer. Not much call for white wine in this place, I thought. Taking a stool near the right end of the bar left me four stools between the nearest biker and me. The older man, another of the one-percenters, lowered his mug long enough to give me the once over, but then went back to studying his beer.
“What’ll it be, young lady?” the bartender asked as he wiped his hands on a towel leaned on the backside of the bar.
“I was told that if I talk nicely to you, I could get a hamburger,” I said and gave the middle-aged man a warm smile.
He cocked his head to one side, and his eyebrows twitched. Odd, I thought.
“Yeah, I can do you a hamburger. What do you want on it?” he asked.
“Catsup, mustard, and pickles,” I said and then added, “And onions, if you have them.” Screw Rafe, he could put up with my bad breath.
“All right, pink okay or do you want it more done?”
“Pink is great and how about a Tecate,” I said noticing the draft dispenser.
“You’ll need to have identification for that beer,” he said.
I fished my little wallet from a zippered jacket pocket and slid out the glamoured business card Rafe had spelled for me. The bartender gave the card a good look and then slid it back across the bar to me. I glanced at it before I returned it to my wallet. To me, without the benefit of Rafe’s enhanced senses, the card looked like a normal Texas driver’s license and even had a not very flattering picture of me. It stated my birthdate correctly, except for the year. Rafe had added a couple years to my age so I wouldn’t have issues like this. I might only be twenty, but I could pass for twenty-two.
“I’ll get you the beer and then start your hamburger,” the bartender said as he moved down the bar toward the draft dispensers.
I watched him go. He was in good shape for a bartender. His jeans were snug against his cheeks, and the man looked like he would clean up well. I smiled to myself. Hell, I couldn’t still be horny after that session with Rafe, but then maybe that was what I needed, a little variety. It wasn’t as if I had had a lot of sexual partners. In the three years before I met Rafe, I’d had three partners, and they had been little more than boys. Maybe Rafe would appreciate me more if I found someone else to work out my frustrations on.
The bartender came back and set a large mug of foaming beer in front of me.
“I’ll start your hamburger now. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Sure, thanks,” I said. I lifted the beer and took a deep pull, draining a quarter of the mug. I licked at the foam on my upper lip and nodded. Good and cold, just the way beer was meant to be. I took off my sunglasses and slipped them into a pocket.
I had downed about half the beer before I decided to nurse the remainder until my burger arrived. I didn’t have a lot of experience drinking, but if I didn’t drink beer too fast, I could still ride my bike back to the motel. I damn sure didn’t want to have to call a cab and then explain to Rafe where I’d left my bike. I wasn’t worried about him being upset about it, it just sounded beneath a Wanderer or even an Apprentice Wanderer.
My burger arrived in about ten minutes. I downed the rest of my beer and ordered another one.
I finished my burger and was watching the people at the pool tables and wondering if I could get into a game. I played a lot of pool after joining the Army, and while not great at it, I did have fun playing.
The room blurred and then cleared when I blinked.
What was that? The room blurred again, but this time, it didn’t clear when I blinked.
What the hell? I set the mug down and leaned back against the bar. Damn, I was dizzy and tired, oh so tired.
There was movement in my vision, and I turned to see the older biker from outside sitting on my right.
He shook his head. “Are you all right, missy?”
“She doesn’t look too good. Do you think it was something she drank?” came another voice.
I turned to my left and saw the other biker from outside sitting next to me.
A third voice sounded behind me. “You’re right, she doesn’t look good. I guess that beer was too much for her. Maybe you two should take her into the office to rest.”
My vision had become double, and I had difficulty thinking. I spun weakly on the bar stool and found that the third voice belonged to the bartender.
“W-what did you?” I mumbled.
“Rohypnol, sweetheart. Don’t worry, you won’t remember a thing tomorrow.” The bartender grinned evilly and nodded toward the men on either side of me.
I felt hands beneath my arms, and I was lifted off the bar stool and placed on my feet. My legs wouldn’t hold me, but the bikers supported my weight, and we moved down the bar toward a dark hallway. I could barely keep my eyes open, and my legs wouldn’t respond at all.
I raised my right hand to my jacket, trying to reach the pocket with Rafe’s Colt 1911, but someone gripped my wrist and kept me from reaching it.
There was a door. We bumped into the doorjamb and then passed through the opening into a small room. I couldn’t see much, but then I was shoved forward onto something soft, and I realized I was on a bed.
Oh, shit! I tried for the Colt again, but someone slapped my hands away from my jacket. Then my arms were pulled over my head and held down. Other hands unzipped my jacket and then started on the buttons to my blouse.
“Get…get off me,” I managed.
There was laughter and then I felt hands at my bra.
I tried to trigger my shield tat, but I couldn’t focus enough to get it active.
Someone was squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples hard enough to give me a shot of adrenaline and it brought with it a moment of clarity.
I mumbled out the healing spell Rafe had taught me. When I felt the snap of power indicating I’d pronounced every
syllable correctly, I focused on clearing my mind of chemicals.
Hands tugged at my leathers, and I felt cool air against my flesh.
“Son of a bitch. She’s going commando,” a voice said.
“I told you she wanted it. The bitch came in here expecting to get raped,” another voice said.
“Then she came to the right place. Get her boots off.”
The healing spell was starting to have an effect. I still couldn’t control my limbs, but at least my mind was clearing. I opened my eyes to see the younger of the two bikers standing between my spread legs at the edge of the bed. Through slitted eyelids, I watched him unfasten his own pants and push them down past his knees. He took his circumcised penis in his hand and leaned toward me.
I triggered my shield tat.
It popped into existence between the biker and me. He bumped into it, dick first, and let out a shout of surprise as he staggered backward and fell butt first to the floor.
“What’s the matter with you, boy? You scared of a little pussy?” the biker holding my hands over my head was laughing.
My mind was getting clearer by the second. I reformed my shield into a cylinder around the older biker’s head and then tried to make the insides touch.
The man released my hands and tried to scream as the shield tightened around his head.
I had some control of my muscles again. I tried sitting up, but couldn’t do it. I reached for the pistol again and this time got the inner pocket of my jacket open. My fingers wrapped around its steel grips.
The younger biker was getting to his feet. With his jeans around his ankles, he was having a hard time of it. I thumbed down the Colt’s safety and pulled the single-action hammer back. The sights wavered in my vision. I pulled the trigger, and the forty-five thundered in the small room.
The recoil almost knocked the pistol from my hand.
Both men were screaming now, the older man’s scream was from pain, but the other biker was screaming like a little girl for me not to shoot.
I pulled the trigger again. This time, the barrel held still. The bullet took him in the right shoulder and spun him to the floor.
Wanderers 3: Garden of The Gods (The Wanderers) Page 8