"Don't make rash decisions, Sheleigh. Wait for things to return to normal before you make any moves. Have you eaten yet?"
"I tried. Kleet was at breakfast."
Sarnia peered into her face. "You still love him."
"I forget what love feels like. It seems like it happened a lifetime ago to someone else."
"You'll have it again. Let's go find you something to eat before you begin working." Sarnia took her by the arm and led her down into the building. Her concerned mothering enabled Sheleigh to eat a small meal.
As they were exiting the kitchenette, Marne entered the room. His eyes lit on Sheleigh and his lip curled. "Your husband's promotion to Avatier happened pretty fast. I heard treachery was involved. What'd you do to get hubby to off his old man? Tell him you wouldn't settle for second best?"
"Marne!" Sarnia exclaimed.
His lip curled further and his nostrils flared. "Maybe you arranged something. It wouldn't be hard to get the old man off alone where paid thugs could kill him. If I were the Averans, I'd be looking pretty closely at you."
"That's enough!" Sarnia's reprimand was like a clap of thunder.
Sheleigh stood mutely, filled with a cold suspicion. Had Marne played a part in Kelfer's death? His accusation so closely following on the scene with the note this morning resounded like an echo. Marne hated Kleet. Did he hate him enough to throw in with the radicals in the murder of the Avatier? Was he capable of something so heinous? Was he angry enough at her for spurning him that he'd frame her?
Her stomach rebelled. "Oh my God!" She fled past Marne to the facilities, where she lost both breakfasts. Her stomach turned inside out, continuing to heave even after it was empty.
The painful spasms passed, but the disillusionments of the past few days came crashing down on her unprotected head. She lay on the floor of the bathroom and sobbed. Her weeping grew into a storm as she cried for everything she'd lost and might still lose. She felt Sarnia's arms around her and heard the soothing sounds that held no meaning to her ears.
Finally she was emptied of all the bad things. Sarnia helped her to her feet and washed her face. She saw in the mirror a blotchy face, puffy eyes, red nose, and cheeks leeched of all other color. She was a mess. She'd also made an unprofessional scene in front of her colleagues. But she couldn't muster the energy to care. It felt almost good to be empty right now. She'd do as much as she could before painful reality came back again.
"Shall I have a transport take you home?" Sarnia asked.
"No." Sheleigh's voice was husky in the aftermath of weeping. "I'll work."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Sheleigh moved a little unsteadily past Sarnia out into the adjoining room. She barely registered Marne standing frozen and white-faced outside the bathroom. She drifted past him like a wraith, feeling light and unconnected to the planet. Work would be her salvation now. She would think about Marne's ties to the note later.
Chapter Twenty
That evening Sheleigh sought her bedroom early. She felt drained of energy even though it was only nine o'clock. It was the dispiritedness weighing her down. Lefair had gone to bed over an hour ago. Her mother-in-law seemed to be fading before her eyes. Sheleigh didn't know how to help her. She could barely take care of herself right now.
She knocked softly on Lefair's bedroom door. If Lefair was already asleep Sheleigh wouldn't wake her. She saw light through the crack under the door, so she quietly turned the handle and opened the door. She'd just peek on Lefair and turn off the light.
Lefair sat in a comfortable chair, still dressed, watching something on the vid screen.
"Lefair?"
Lefair didn't respond in any way, so Sheleigh moved all the way into the room. "Lefair?"
Very slowly Lefair turned to her. Only then did Sheleigh see the tears which leaked down Lefair's cheeks. Sheleigh went to her mother-in-law's side. She caught a glimpse of the recording on the screen, and turned abruptly away. A mating flight was private.
"Why are you watching that?" she asked as gently as she could.
"He looked so young then. I was so young. He bonded me fiercely that day. I thought I would burst with my love for him and my pride in belonging to him. I miss him." A harsh sob tore from her throat. "I miss him. Every day is so long and so empty. I keep looking for him, but he's never there. I need him. I'm so lonely. I feel like I'm dying. I need him!" Lefair's tears were now a torrent of heart-wrenching despair, of pain unendurable, of a meaningless existence, of love gone away.
Sheleigh pulled her out of the chair into her arms. Lefair's bones had grown prominent in the week without her mate. Sheleigh tried to contain Lefair's violent sobs, but they poured forth over her like acid, making painful runnels in her heart.
She thought the racking sobs would tear Lefair apart. They were tearing her apart just listening to them. Her own tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks. She'd cried a lot the past week.
The sobs subsided a little, replaced by words desperate to be said. "I miss holding his hand. I want to sit by him at dinner. I miss him in my bed. His scent is fading from the room. What will I do when it's gone? I can't keep coming into this room and not see him here. I don't want to leave my home, but I can't stay here either. I have things to tell him, things to ask him. I need him to be here. Why did he leave me? Why did he go away?" It was a wail of terrible pain. The weeping began again, worse than before.
Sheleigh cried with her. There was nothing else she could do. A week wasn't enough time to numb the loss of a long-time mate. She feared there wouldn't be enough time to numb the loss for Lefair. Already Lefair was fading. At this rate she'd be dead within the year. Sheleigh clutched her tightly, wondering how she could keep Lefair alive. Nothing she knew of could replace the loss of a mate.
Some sense alerted her and she turned to see Kleet in the doorway. His form shimmered through her tears, but she thought she saw pain on his face. He moved into the room, crouched beside them and gathered his mother into his arms.
"Kelfer?" The question came out quivery and thin.
"It's me, Mother." His voice sounded thick.
His words triggered another storm of weeping. "I thought ... (sob) ... I wanted it to be ..." Nothing else was understandable.
Kleet murmured to his mother while she cried out her pain on his shoulder. Finally this spate of weeping ended and she sagged against him.
He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. Sheleigh removed Lefair's shoes and loosened her clothes. She wouldn't disturb what appeared to be exhausted slumber by undressing Lefair for bed. She covered the fragile woman with the soft blankets. When she turned, Kleet was gone. She shut off the recording without looking at it. She turned off the lights and closed the bedroom door, then went down the hall to her room.
Kleet's bedroom door wasn't closed all the way and she heard choking sounds coming from inside. Alarmed, she threw open the door and burst inside. Kleet was on his knees in the middle of the room, his face covered with his hands, his shoulders heaving. The choking sounds were coming from him. He was weeping!
She didn't know what to do. She was his wife in name only. He hadn't asked for her comfort. But her heart cried out to comfort him.
Moving to his side, she placed a hand carefully on his shoulder. He jerked and his head came up. His face was wild and ravaged by grief. His eyes were pools of pain and misery. He dashed away the offending tears but more took their place.
"Get out of here," he snarled.
"No." She didn't know where she got the strength, but she stayed in the room. She dropped to her knees in front of him.
He pushed her away. "I said get out."
She returned to her original position in front of him.
He was savage in his grief. "I don't want you here." He pushed her again.
She pushed him back. "I'm not leaving you."
"That's not what you said a few days ago," he lashed out.
"You need me. Let me hold you."
> "I'm not a child. I don't need you." He wiped more tears away.
She got her arms around him, but he struggled to be free. They teetered and fell. She pulled him over her. "Put your head on my shoulder. I'll hold you while you weep."
He pulled against her. "Women weep. Men don't need to."
"You do. Your father was a good man."
"My father ..." he choked. "My father ..." A sob escaped his control, then another. The storm broke over him. He collapsed against her, gripping her arms so tight she knew she would bruise. She held him fiercely, riding the storm that he was helpless to control. He'd held it in check too long, denied it, ignored it. Now it was loose and there was no stopping it.
She held him while love fluttered in her heart, wanting out to be with him. Her husband. The fluttering grew, as did the spark that was mate-recognition. It clamored with want and need. She found her hands caressing his warm familiar body as he shook. She rubbed her cheek against his silky hair.
He quieted. He raised his face at last, wet with tears. His eyes were darkened with pain. They looked like Kelfer's eyes at that moment. "I miss him."
"We all do. He was very much loved."
"I wasn't ready for him to go."
"No."
"I still need his counsel, his advice, his wisdom. It was easy being the heir, because he was there to guide me. But I'm all alone now. I have to make all the decisions for the planet."
"You have a good council. They can help you."
"I'd rather have him."
"I know."
"He was so happy I'd finally taken a mate. He couldn't wait for the babies to be born. Now he'll never see them."
She drew his head down to her breast and let him weep some more. A father like his left a huge hole when he died. Kleet and Kelfer had been together all day long for seventeen years. Not just father and son, but teacher and student, ruler and heir, role model and impressionable young man. Their relationship had been complex. Was it any wonder that he felt his father's loss almost as much as his mother did?
She stroked his hair as he calmed. She was sure this wouldn't be the last of his weeping, but he had admitted his grief. That was a step in the right direction.
"I got your shirt wet." He brushed the wet spot. It was close enough to her breast that he brushed that, too. Her nipple peaked. His body stilled. He returned to brush the taut nub again.
"That's not wet," she got out through her tight throat. Her hormones clamored. Her nipple felt electrified by just those two brushes. It had been so long.
"Do you want it to be wet?" His voice was husky.
Torrid pictures of the night in the rain and his mouth over the wet silk of her blouse filled her mind. She wriggled under him.
"Yes. Make it wet."
Instead of sucking her flesh through her shirt, he raised up over her. He unbuttoned her shirt slowly, and then spilled the eager breast from her bra. His head lowered. She drew in breath in anticipation. His warm, wet mouth closed over her breast. She groaned. He sucked the whole breast, then just the nipple. He bit it lightly. She arched into his mouth. He repeated the procedure. Her hand came up around the back of his head to hold him in place. She wanted him to feast. He savored, suckling greedily. She groaned again. She applied pressure to the back of his head. He applied suction to her breast until she was panting with pleasure.
He moved between her legs, which hugged his hips. How she wished she was naked so he could fill her body.
"Are you offering your body to me for comfort?" he murmured.
"If that's what you need. I don't care why you take me, just so long as you do."
"I feel savage. I think that was all the gentleness I had tonight."
"I can take it. I can take you. I want to."
"You'll hate me for using you." He worked his way down the remaining buttons on her shirt.
"No, I won't."
He pushed savagely at her shirt. She rescued her bra from sure destruction. He pulled off her pants in one yank. She couldn't save the panties, wincing at the sound of them tearing. He spread her legs. She got his trousers partially unfastened. He pushed his pants off.
She was reaching for his shirt when his good wing mantled. She knew her time was up. He thrust his heavily aroused cock inside her, driving for her core. Even though she was wet she felt the discomfort of two month's celibacy. She arched, trying to accommodate him, but he grabbed her hips to hold her still. He plundered the depths of her body. She shivered with pleasure. It had been so long. He drove deep. She screamed. He convulsed. So did she. He groaned deeply. It was a mournful howl of pleasure and pain. Afterwards he was still erect.
"Again," he gritted. He thrust into her once more. The mate bonds lately tattered and torn began to knit together again. It was a painful process tying two hurt people together. He grew violent in his possession, fighting the pain, fighting the bond. She arched like a bow under the power of his thrusts. She knew as long as they mated the bonds would grow between them. He knew it, too. But he fought it while he mated with energy and force. She hoped his love for her lurked somewhere under the hurt.
He made animal noises as the bonds grew tight. He arched his neck until the cords stood out. His hands moved to her breasts to rub hard on her nipples. She planted her feet on the rug and arched her hips up. He pounded into her. She clenched, then clenched again. He pinched both nipples. She rocketed to satisfaction. Suddenly she was falling with him through the air. He gripped her hard, almost painfully, as they flew spread-eagled in the thermals. He emptied his seed into her with a shout of satisfaction. Then he was heavy on her as they lay on the floor of his bedroom.
One of her arms wrapped around his heaving back. His wings were spread out on the floor on both sides of them. She didn't know how he'd gotten the crippled one fully extended. She throbbed from his possession. She throbbed with the renewed mate bond, so grateful to have it restored once again.
"You're mine again, Shel." His words were tinged with regret.
"Yes." She wouldn't make it easy for him.
"I want you all night."
"I'm yours. Do what you want."
"I won't be gentle. I can't be right now."
"I don't care."
"Roll over. I'm ready again."
Eventually they moved to Kleet's bed where he used her long and hard. He brought her to screaming climax over and over. He poured his anger, grief, frustration and seed into her willing body. She wondered if he was releasing the grief at the loss of flight as well as the loss of his father. God knew that grief had to come out. He bound her tightly to him. He made up for two months of abstinence in one night, using up all of their energy, pushing them beyond exhaustion to complete satiation.
Finally the storm blew itself out. Kleet lay heavy on her, his sweaty body sticking to hers. His musky scent was familiar, and so was the feel of him. Sheleigh was content for the first time in months.
"Thank you." His voice was rough, the aftereffect of his strong passion.
"You're welcome." She waited to see what he would say next.
He shifted until he was facing her on the pillow. His hair was darkened by sweat. His hand rose to brush back the curls from her face and she leaned into his touch.
"You deserve someone who's whole."
"I don't want someone else. I want you."
"I can't fly." The words sounded like they were torn from him.
"That doesn't matter to me."
He sighed and closed his eyes. His fist crushed a loose curl. "It matters to me. It matters a great deal. Because it does, I can't give all of myself to you."
"You just gave me everything."
"No, I gave you my body."
"You bonded me to you."
"I couldn't prevent it from happening. But I'm not able to give you more right now."
"You mean your love." Her languor evaporated like bubbles bursting.
He sighed again. "Yes. I'm not the same man anymore."
"You're only different in
your mind, Kleet."
"You can't imagine how I feel, Shel. I'm the Avatier. I should be able to fly." He pounded his fist into the mattress. His anger slowly leeched from his face, leaving the prominent planes of his cheekbones and shadowed eyes behind. "Will you sleep with me tonight? I don't want to be alone."
"What about tomorrow? What then?"
"This is all I can give you now."
She sighed, deeply disappointed. "I'll stay with you tonight." It was a place to start.
Chapter Twenty-One
Kleet tossed his stylus onto the papers on his desk. He dropped his head into his hands, trying to rub the tension away with his fingertips. Where were the radicals hiding? Why hadn't someone given information on them yet? Strangely, they'd been quiet in the month since they'd murdered his father. He felt the unnatural peace like the edginess in the air before one of Avera's fierce lightning storms. He ran his fingers up through his hair.
The radicals should have been caught by now. Kelfer's death cried out for justice. He couldn't let his father's murderers go unpunished. His father would have found the guilty ones by now. Kleet's fist clenched. No, his father hadn't even located the person responsible for Kleet's crippling before he'd been murdered. His father hadn't been infallible.
He rubbed his fingers over his heart, where there was a hollow ache. He felt disloyal for thinking his father was fallible. His father was ... had been ... a great man. Why wouldn't this ache stop? A dozen times a day he thought of things he wanted his father's advice on, but he was alone in his father's office now. The heir's office was empty as well, and would be for a long time. He'd never understood before the real role the heir played. The council looked to him for advice and guidance, not the other way around.
That situation would have to change. He'd started change in motion by asking for the council members' help identifying the murderers. A lead on their whereabouts had to come any day now, it had to.
There was a knock on the door.
"Enter," Kleet called.
His brother Berkesch stepped in, pulling the door closed behind him. There was an odd diffidence in the way Berkesch moved. Kleet braced himself to talk about their father. He hadn't spoken about his feelings to either his brother or sister. He should have expected one of them to visit sooner.
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