Storm's Heart er-2

by Thea Harrison

  She had to learn to trust him, he’d said. He was right. Yesterday he had gleaned a surprising amount of information just by observing people, and he had a clear, strong vision of what he needed to do. His ruthlessness, his aptitude for tactics and strategy, and his incisive logic and investigative skills were all natural fits for the position he had reached out and taken for himself.

  She took a deep breath and sighed. For the first time in what seemed like forever, the tight, restricting band around her chest was gone. She felt lighter, full of hope and optimism.

  Tiago’s compilation of facts was persuasive. She believed as he did, that a killer lay in quiet wait in the house. But she now believed that the killer would be caught, and that she and Tiago had a fighting chance in this new life they had begun to carve out for themselves.

  Belief, hope, optimism. Passion and laughter. A sense of safety. Look at the wealth of gifts he had given her. Just days ago she had been drunk, injured, frightened and alone.

  Overcome with emotion, she pressed a kiss to his warm pectoral. She watched his face as he stirred, his beautiful mouth pulling into a sleepy smile. He put a hand to her cheek and fingered the pointed tip of her ear. She felt his penis stiffen against her hip, felt her own responding clench of hunger, and she indulged in a luxurious full-body stretch that moved her body along the length of his.

  “Faerie, you sure do know how to make a man glad he’s alive,” he said. His morning voice was gravelly, deeper, and it rumbled against her cheek. He yawned.

  “I notice that you are taking up the whole damn bed,” she said. She kissed his nipple. It pebbled under her lips.

  “It’s comfortable so why not?”

  “Tiago, it’s my bed.” She licked his nipple and nibbled at it and listened to his breath catch. It was the sexiest sound she had ever heard. Her hunger sharpened and became liquid as she felt his erection pulse.

  His smile widened. He cupped her cheek with those long, clever fingers of his. “You’re my faerie. Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining in the night.”

  “I’m complaining now,” she informed him. She nipped gently at the pebbled flesh. He sucked air.

  “Is that what you’re doing?” he said between his teeth. His legs shifted restlessly underneath her. “Take your time, tell me all about it. I’m a patient man for these kinds of complaints.”

  “I demand recompense.” She slid farther down that long rippling torso, licking and kissing as she went.

  He hissed, lifting his head to watch her with black glittering eyes. He cradled her head between his hands with tense care. “This is called recompense? I’m learning a whole new language here. Please, for pity’s sake, have as much recompense as you want.”

  “I think I will.” His erection lay along his washboard stomach, the head almost touching his navel. It was as beautiful as the rest of him, large, hot and velvet-skinned, his testicles voluptuous, tight globes underneath. She gripped his penis under the head, lifted it to her mouth and sucked him in.

  His head slammed back against the mattress and he opened his mouth in a silent shout. The sight of his extreme pleasure was so erotic she moistened further, her hunger settling between her legs as a deep, insistent ache. She scratched lightly at the side of his ribs as she suckled him, and his torso arched off the bed.

  His hands and heavy, powerful thigh muscles were shaking. She did this. She caused this man to shake. She purred, opened up her throat and took all of him in.

  “Holy gods, Niniane!”

  This peaceful sunlit bedroom was their oasis, their time to let go of outside stresses and dangers and relish the nurturance of their sensuality. When they left they would have to arm themselves with weapons and watch the world with wary eyes, but for now they had this moment and she would take everything she could from it before she let it go. Under the lavish generosity of so many gifts, she dared to think and say what she felt. She whispered in his head, You’re mine.

  He said between gritted teeth, “I couldn’t be more yours. Take all of me, faerie. Don’t leave one piece of me behind.”

  She held her hands out to him. He laced his fingers through hers. They held on to each other as she took him until the warm vitality of his climax flooded her mouth.

  He wasn’t done, of course. She had roused him to such an extent, he rose over her with his face desperate, stripped of all self-protection. He pinned her to the bed and drove into her. She turned her head at the gorgeousness of his entry, and the morning sun blinded her. The world around her was radiant, full of light. He stretched and filled her, and she clenched on him with all the strength she had. She caught the shadowed arc of his wide shoulders flexing over her. His head was flung back, eyes closed. People kill for this kind of beauty.

  He took everything. It was unthinkable to keep one piece of her behind.

  I love you. She heard the echo in the room and knew she had said it.

  He framed her face and drove his mouth down on hers as he drove in her body. “So this is called love,” he gasped. “La petite mort.”

  Drenched in gold, she lay transfixed by the surprise of him, the language of his body, the poetry of his mind.

  La petite mort. The little death. More than a climax, a spiritual release.

  Then they both took flight.

  Late that afternoon, a hesitant knock sounded at the door. Niniane called out, “Yes?”

  Vrayna, one of the household staff, said, “My apologies, your highness, I know you said you did not wish to be disturbed, but a Chicago policewoman is here to see you.”

  “Oh good, that’s Cameron!” Niniane dropped the clothes she held to clap her hands. “Please show her up.”

  A few minutes later a second, firmer knock sounded on the door. She flung it open. Cameron stood in the hall, dressed casually in jeans, black shoes and a red summer tank top. Her sandy hair was pulled back in a plain clip, and her cinnamon-sprinkled face was lit with pleasure. Niniane threw her arms around the taller woman. Cameron laughed in surprise and hugged her back.

  Then Cameron looked over Niniane’s shoulder. “Okay,” said the policewoman. “And you still intend to leave tomorrow?”

  Niniane turned to look too.

  The lovely bedroom was a rainbow-colored disaster. There were two armchairs arranged by a small table near open windows. The table held the remains of a meal on a food tray. Tiago occupied one of the chairs. He lounged with his long legs stretched out. He was dressed in jeans, a plain black T-shirt, boots, and just one visible weapon, a handgun in an arm holster. Jewelry boxes and toiletry bags were piled on one end of the bed. The other end was piled with dresses and other outfits. The closet spewed dozens of shoes on the floor. The second armchair was stacked with paperbacks, magazines, folder files and a laptop.

  Tiago’s lap was mounded with filmy garments in a variety of colors, pink, cream, royal blue, black, lacy red, and a few things that were patterned with flowers. He held in his hands a pair of pale pink high-heeled slip-on shoes with marabou trim. They looked absurdly tiny in his massive grip, the marabou feathers waving gently in a breeze that wafted in from the windows.

  Cameron disguised her guffaw poorly as a cough. “Ah, looking a little frilly there, sentinel.”

  “Fuck you,” Tiago said. His tone was amiable. He turned one shoe over and regarded it with a bemused expression. He blew on the marabou.

  “Mr. Incredible has discovered he has opinions about women’s fashion,” Niniane said to Cameron, her eyes dancing.

  “Has he, now?” Cameron shook her head. “I am speechless.”

  “I have very strong opinions about lingerie fashion,” said Tiago. He looked at the pile of silken material in his lap. “All of this must come with us. I’ll find room for it somewhere if I have to carry it in my own saddlebags.” He held the bottom of the shoe up for Cameron’s inspection. “She balances her entire body weight, which admittedly is not much, on these minuscule surfaces.”

  “It’s a skill I never acquired,” Cameron
said. “Nor did I ever want to.”

  Niniane said, “I can run in those shoes too.”

  Tiago raised his head. His dark saturnine face turned intent. “I want to see. You have those pearls and knives somewhere.”

  “Not now,” she told him, color darkening her cheeks. “We have company.” She smiled at Cameron. “I hope you did not have to quit your job so that you could come.”

  “I did not,” said Cameron. “I got a leave of absence. Given the circumstances with the time difference between here and the Other land, and the honor of the invitation, my superintendent was inclined to be lenient. I’m packed and ready to go.” The policewoman raised her eyebrows. “You, clearly, are not.”

  “Oh pfft!” Niniane waved a hand. “We’ll have pack animals, but most of this can’t come with us anyway. I was trying to choose what I wanted to take, then Tiago got involved and he started asking questions and, well.” Her tongue poked between her teeth as she turned in a circle. “We did make a bit of a mess.”

  Tiago was studying Cameron, his eyes narrowed in thought. He pointed the toe of one shoe at her. “I want to have a word with you.”

  “All right,” said Cameron, who hooked her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans. “What’s up?”

  “Have a seat in my office.” He indicated the other armchair, then noticed it was full. “Faerie, do you mind if we shift some of this stuff?”

  “No, go right ahead.” Niniane rubbed the back of her neck, looking frustrated. “I still can’t find that ivory inlaid box, and I know I brought it with me. Do you need me for this conversation?”

  Tiago smiled at her. “No, I do not. Go find your box.”

  He helped Cameron clear off the second armchair as Niniane disappeared into the walk-in closet. Cameron took a seat, and he tapped the shoe against his lips as he regarded the policewoman. “I think I can make a pretty good guess at what you make in a year,” he said. He named a figure. “Is that close?”

  Cameron snorted. “Close enough. I’ve got twenty years on the force, but a police detective only makes so much.”

  “You may have heard that I am no longer one of Dragos’s sentinels,” Tiago said.

  “Word’s gotten around,” said Cameron.

  Tiago told her, “I am now Niniane’s chief of security, and I’m starting from scratch. Come work for me for a year, and I’ll triple your salary. If you want to leave at the end of the year, I’ll help you relocate back to Chicago and find a new job.”

  Cameron stared. “You’re asking me to come live in Adriyel for a year?”

  Tiago shrugged. He switched to telepathy. She likes you, and she’s relaxed in your company. She giggles around you. You get the same pop culture references, and you understand that all this froufrou is important to her. Niniane and I have got to build relationships with Dark Fae, and we will. But right now, you’re a trained detective, you’re kind to her, and I think you like her too. And I trust you. As I look at you, it occurs to me everything you embody is a rather rare commodity.

  I do like her, Cameron replied. The human was frowning, not in negation, but in thought. I like her a lot.

  Tiago paused. Police work and bodyguard work are two different things, of course, he said. You would have a lot to learn, and you would have to learn it fast. I remember your employee profile said you have taken some martial arts training, but I doubt you’ve picked up a sword.

  Actually, I have done a bit of sword work, along with knife and crossbow work, said Cameron. There’s a course through the department for detectives like me who have a spark of Power and who might find themselves needing to cross over to an Other land in pursuit of a fugitive. It was just an introductory survey course. It wouldn’t be enough, but it’s a start. My God, I’m really thinking about doing this. Don’t you have enough bodyguards already? Powerful ones? Rune and Aryal, and assorted Vampyres?

  Yes, but they all leave after Niniane’s coronation in a week or so, Tiago said. And I can’t stay with her twenty-four/seven. I’ll need to set up my own office when we get to Adriyel and lay the groundwork for developing my own intelligence network. And we have a killer in our group, someone who wants Niniane dead.

  Something fell in the closet, and Niniane swore. Tiago raised his voice. “You okay in there, faerie?”

  “Yeeeeessss,” Niniane said. She sounded aggravated. “The stupid box just found the top of my head.”

  He smiled a little. He said to Cameron, “Don’t take your time. If you don’t do this, I need to find someone who will.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Cameron.

  SIXTEEN

  Niniane was pleased to see Cameron, but she was all too aware that the other woman’s arrival heralded change that she could no longer avoid. The sunlit intimacy she had shared with Tiago evaporated. She was glad they had managed to prolong their oasis for so much of the day but she still mourned its passing.

  After he finished his talk with Cameron, Tiago stuck his head in the closet. “Faerie.”

  She sat cross-legged on the floor with the ivory inlaid box on her lap. She fingered the carved wood top. “Yes?”

  “Are you all right if Cameron stays with you?” he asked. “I have things I should do. I want to check in with Rune and Aryal.”

  She nodded without looking up. “Of course.”

  He was silent. Then his boots came into her line of sight. He kneeled and slipped one hand under her chin to coax her face up for his inspection. He gave her a swift hard kiss. “Your endorsement of this idea is less than rousing,” he said. His thumb stroked her bottom lip. “Are you sure?”

  She cleared her throat. She told him in a stronger voice, “Yes, I’m sure.” She met his dark searching gaze and gave him a small smile. “I just don’t want our day together to end, but it’s starting to happen in my head anyway. We both have a lot to do before tomorrow’s crossover.”

  His expression was determined. “We will make time for ourselves. I’ll not stand for anything else. I am a selfish man and do not intend to go deprived.”

  Her smile deepened, became more real. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  He tilted his head and nodded to what she held in her lap. “What’s in the box?”

  She spread her hands over the top of the box. “Just some memories. I can tell you another time.”

  “All right.” He braced his hands on his thighs and leaned forward. “One more for the road.”

  She put a hand to his cheek as she kissed him, savoring his clean masculine scent and the sensation of his warm, firm lips moving on hers. Then he stood and strode out. He took much of the day’s light and warmth with him.

  After a few minutes she stood, her arms wrapped around the box, and she walked back into the bedroom. Cameron was sorting through the pile of clothes on the bed, folding things into neat stacks. She had already sorted the lingerie. It sat on the end of the bed with the saucy marabou-trimmed shoes perched on top of the pile.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Niniane said.

  Cameron grinned. “Are you kidding? This is a blast. Your wardrobe is like going on a whirlwind shopping spree of the major couture houses.”

  “I know, I indulge too much.” Niniane bit her lip. “Shopping is a stress response for me.”

  Cameron shrugged. “If you have the kind of budget that can support your habit, who cares?”

  “I was listening to your conversation with Tiago,” said Niniane. “I’m thrilled you’re taking the job.”

  “Great,” said Cameron. “I was just wondering if I should have run it by you before accepting. I’ll need to email my notice to my supervisor and arrange with my brother to put my things in storage. But I can go out later to do that. Right now, what do you need?”

  “You’re already doing it.”

  Working together, they had most of the things sorted and put away in a short amount of time. Niniane kept what she was taking with her on the bed. She chose outfits suitable to wear when horseback riding and camping, jeans, T-shirts, swea
ters, sneakers and boots. Toiletries were kept to what was strictly functional along with a few basic items of makeup. A rainresistant jacket, scarf, all of the lingerie Tiago liked, the bundle that contained her knives, their various sheaths and the small vial of poison she used to coat the tips. Some jewelry, a few small mementos from her life in New York, a couple of paperbacks and the inlaid box. She would have more of her things shipped later and would expand her wardrobe in Adriyel with Dark Fae clothing, so she could afford to travel somewhat light on this trip.

  Then she sat on the edge of the bed and opened the box. It contained a pair of 2-barrel .41 rimfire caliber Remington Double Derringer pistols with engraved silver handles, along with a couple of felt ammunition bags and cleaning materials.

  “Holy crap, those are gorgeous,” Cameron breathed, sitting beside her. “Are those 1866 Derringers?”

  “Yep,” said Niniane. She picked up one, checked to make sure it was unloaded then handed it to Cameron. “I bought them as soon as they came out. Derringers were so much easier for me to handle than the earlier bigger guns, and of course you can carry one in your dress or coat pocket or slip one in your boot.”

  Cameron inspected the small pistol with reverence. “You bought this when it was new. My God.” She sighted down the short barrel. “Where are you going to store these when we cross over?”

  “I’m not going to store them,” Niniane said. “We’re going to clean and load them, and I’m going to take them with us.”

  Cameron’s sleek sandy eyebrows rose. “I don’t understand. Technology doesn’t work in Other lands.”

  “That’s not quite true,” Niniane said. She held her hand out for the pistol, and Cameron handed it to her. She showed the other woman how to clean and load it. “Dragos has done a lot of experimenting. Passive technologies like composting toilets or designs that utilize solar heat work just fine. In fact, we’re taking a Melitta coffee filter with us. Modern crossbow and compound bow designs work well too.”