Dark Solace

by Tara Fox Hall

  Lash reached down and grabbed my legs, pulling them down his way, and began tickling my socked feet.

  “Ahh! Stop!” I yelled, laughing and writhing.

  He was laughing, but he did stop.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked. “I could make us something.”

  “Like what?” Lash said, giving me a hungry look back.

  “I don’t know...what would you like to eat?”

  “I like to eat a lot of things,” Lash said, giving me a suggestive smile. “Depending on what I have a yearning to taste—”

  “Be serious,” I chastised. “How about pancakes? Eggs? Pasta? I don’t know how much time we have before Dev comes down, or what’s in the refrigerator—”

  “Let’s go look.” Lash got up immediately.

  I followed him into the kitchen, and over to the fridge. He opened it, peering in. “Looks like we are out of eggs, and there’s no bacon or sausage, either,” Lash said with irritation. “Serena buys at least three packages every week, but that bastard Jerry’s always eating it all himself—”

  I remembered Jerry, one of the newer weres Dev had hired. He was short and dark haired, with an intense way about him. He had seemed nice enough, but I’d only seen him a few times at Hayden in passing. I still didn’t know many of the werebears well, but I knew the single ones, like Jerry, better than the mated ones, as those six were the ones who visited Serena almost daily. Well, maybe it wasn’t daily anymore, she was taking care of Venus now...

  “—there’s some fruit here,” Lash said, making a face. “And it looks like some milk, and some vegetables, and oh look, someone did leave us one egg!”

  There was real fury in his manner. Why? This was a pain, sure, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. But he’d always had a short fuse with Theo. Maybe he had one with most people? Those jocks that’d made fun of us a month ago had brought the monster out with just a few digs at me.

  “They’re all such fucking selfish asses—!”

  I went over behind him, and laid a hand on his shoulder, hoping to calm him. He went still beneath my fingers.

  “I could make you some cornbread,” I offered. “Do you like cornbread?”

  Lash turned to me, longing and a touch of emotion in his dark eyes. “I love cornbread. I haven’t had any in years.”

  “Then hand me our lone egg, and I’ll get on it,” I said with a smile.

  Lash hugged me quickly, and then let me go, turning back around to grab the egg, and the milk. Given his lack of enthusiasm for cooking, I was surprised that he knew that milk was in cornbread, but chalked it up to the vast years he’d probably spent watching TV. Perhaps he had watched cooking shows on occasion.

  I took both the egg and the milk from him, and went to the counter looking for cornmeal in the cupboard. “Preheat the oven to four hundred degrees,” I said, flipping through my mental cookbook for a list of the other ingredients.

  Lash began pushing the buttons of the stove, as I located everything else I needed. As I began pouring and measuring, Lash came up behind me, slipping his arms loosely around my waist as I worked, his head leaning on my shoulder. I waited for him to say something, make some comment, but he seemed content to stand there in silence.

  “You have to let me go,” I said, putting the last of the batter into the pans. “I’ve got to put these in the oven.”

  “Right,” Lash said in one breath. He released me, and stepped away.

  I slid the pans into the oven, set the times for an hour, and then turned to him. “Want some wine?” I asked. “The bread will be a while. I think there are some pretzels here—”

  “Cornbread, wine, and pretzels?” Lash said, laughing. “That’s not a balanced dinner.”

  “Probably not, but like you said, there isn’t much else here—”

  “Sorry about that,” a voice said.

  We turned to a thin blond woman at the door, a full grocery bag in her arms. She looked about Mary’s age, early sixties maybe. But she was in very good shape, and when she moved, she had a spring in her step. She came in and handed the bag to Lash. He took it from her without a word, and set it on the counter.

  “I’m Robin,” she said softly.

  I gave her a smile, and extended my hand. “I’m Sarelle.”

  She nodded. “I saw we were out of most everything this morning, so I took a drive down late this afternoon to get some supplies,” Robin said cheerfully. “There are some eggs there, and some bagels, and bacon—”

  “Thank you, Kitchen Goddess,” Lash said, shooting her a grin.

  Robin gave him a smile back.

  That was odd. He’d been so against her coming here, back in the early spring. What had changed to make him like her?

  “I’ve got to get to cleaning,” Robin said, checking her watch. “But have a good night, Sarelle. You too, Lash.”

  “Thanks again,” I said. Lash echoed me.

  “If you’re going to do baking again here at Hayden, Sarelle, please let me know,” Robin said pleasantly. “Serena has been telling me of your skill, and I’d like to pass on a few recipes to you.”

  That was nice, but I wasn’t used to Hayden’s people being nice without an angle. “Oh?”

  “I don’t have children of my own,” Robin explained. “The recipes are some of my traditional family ones, and I would like to pass them onto other cooks, so they aren’t lost.”

  So long as it wasn’t some kind of raw werewolf stew. “Sounds great. I like new recipes, if they aren’t too complex. Probably a week from now, maybe? I’ll let Serena know, and she can tell you.”

  “Sure thing,” Robin said with a grin. With a last good-bye to us both, she left.

  “She’s nice,” Lash hissed, putting away the salad, and the two extra packages of bacon.

  He’d left out the eggs, bacon, sausage, and bagels. Looks like we’d be having a balanced meal after all.

  I got out two large skillets, and began prepping, as Lash opened the packages for me. As the meat was cooking, he again came up behind me, and possessively put his arms at my waist, his thumbs hooking beneath the edge of my shirt to stroke my bare skin.

  Chapter Eleven

  Was he going to kiss me? What would I do if his hands suddenly slid upward? “How many eggs do you want?” I asked awkwardly.

  “Four,” Lash hissed softly. “Four would be nice.” He let go of me, and reached back to grasp the egg carton on the counter. “Here.”

  I took out four eggs, and cracked them into the skillet. “How do you like them?”

  “Over easy,” Lash hissed almost inaudibly. “Or however you want to make them, Sar.” He again moved up behind me, his hands again slipping under my shirt to touch my skin. Gently, he caressed my sides, his thumbs just grazing the bottoms of my breasts, his breath loud in my ears.

  The closeness of Lash made it hard to concentrate. I breathed in the scent of him as we stood there together, the warmth of his body permeating my back. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and enjoy being held by him, to feel his arms holding me tenderly, yet possessively.

  I told myself that I should open my mouth, and tell him to give me some space. I told myself that I knew better than this. Instead I relaxed back and leaned into him, letting myself be comforted.

  “The eggs will be ready first,” I said. “The bacon and sausage will take longer.”

  “Aren’t you eating?” Lash hissed in my ear. “I thought we were eating together.”

  This time it wasn’t angst that was causing his hissing; it was arousal. “I’m trying to watch my weight. I’ll have a little bit of the bacon and sausage with you, and the cornbread, but not the eggs. I should really just have a bagel—”

  Lash brushed my cheek with his gently, making me nearly drop my spatula. “You shouldn’t lose any weight, Sar,” he whispered in my ear. “You are the right size, just as you are. Your body is beautiful.”

  A shudder went through me at his words, images of him touching me, loving me. It was in his voice
that he remembered, too...Get a hold of yourself, Sar. You can handle this. Now do it.

  “I was thinner before I had Venus and Devon,” I said grumpily, still very conscious of his arms around me and his cheek against mine. “You don’t remember me that way, because by the time we were together, I was pregnant a few months—”

  “Not the first time,” Lash said hoarsely.

  His hands slipped upwards, his thumbs stroking the sides of my breasts as he cupped them. I went still as a statue.

  “You were only a month along, or less,” Lash hissed softly in my ear, his tone longing. “I remember you well, Sar. How you looked in the moonlight that night, standing before me.”

  I shut my eyes. Yes...he was right. The first time I had been with him, so many months ago, I’d only been a few weeks pregnant. I had been more or less the right size then, at least for me. Now I was about ten pounds heavier.

  Lash’s hands crossed my chest, then his arms squeezed me back against him. “You were so fearless and determined, your eyes flashing as you demanded I take you—”

  Focus, Sar, focus! “I’m not going to be supermodel thin,” I uttered abruptly, blinking a lot to get the mental images of us together out of my mind. “I just want to fit into my tight jeans again, Lash. I appreciate your kind words, but I’ve made up my mind.”

  Lash didn’t reply. The tension slowly evaporated as if it has never been.

  “Your eggs are done,” I said. “Get a plate.”

  Lash let me go, and turned to the cupboard.

  “Do you want a bagel, too?” I asked. “I can put in one for you, and one for me.”

  “Sure,” Lash said easily, handing me a plate. “But I can put them in while you dish it up.”

  Lash took care of the bagels as I carefully forked out his eggs, bacon, and the first batch of sausage. The bagels popped up a few seconds later. Lash handed me mine on a plate, then took his loaded plate immediately into the other room, a fork in his hand.

  He came back in a second later. “You can’t eat in there with me, because you’re still cooking.” He pulled out one of the bar stools, sat down at the kitchen island in back of me, and began eating.

  Touched that he’d come back to keep me company, I tried to come up with some comment. The timer on the counter went off loudly, startling me so much I dropped my fork on the floor. Rolling my eyes at my teenage-like jitters, I picked it up and put it in the sink, then checked the cornbread.

  “We’re good to go,” I said, lifting it out with the oven mitt.

  “Would you cut me a few pieces?” Lash said eagerly. “I can’t wait to taste it.”

  I almost told him he was as bad about waiting for food as Theo was, but the joke died in my throat. Shaking off my melancholy along with Theo, I cut Lash a few pieces, and one for myself. After dishing the rest of the cooked bacon and sausage to Lash and myself, I threw the last uncooked pieces in the skillet to brown and sat down next to Lash to eat. He had finished his first helping, and was eating with relish his last piece of cornbread.

  “This is so good!” Lash said, giving me a happy smile. “This is just like my mother used to make. Every Sunday, she would make us cornbread. We would all wait in the kitchen, for it to come out of the oven—”

  “All”? How many siblings had Lash had?

  “—and finally it would, and she would divide it up between us,” Lash sighed. “Thank you for making this for me, Sar.”

  “You’re welcome,” I replied, curious, but not wanting to pry. I got up, and turned the last pieces of bacon and sausage. “Do you want some more?” I offered, and then flushed immediately.

  Lash saw me flush, and gave me a knowing smile. “Yes, please.”

  I handed him two more pieces of cornbread, which he devoured while I finished my meal. The last sausage and bacon was done by that time, and I gave them to him, too, with one more piece of cornbread for each of us.

  “So you like Robin?”

  Lash looked up at me and nodded. “I was worried initially,” he said, his tone serious and measured. “I’d known some werewolves a few decades ago who had made a lot of trouble for Dev and me. But Robin’s been fine. She seems to really just want some peace, and she does her job well. She doesn’t shy away from me either, which is nice. She’s made a point of keeping the kitchen stocked, or as stocked as she can, with this many weremen around. That’s why I call her Kitchen Goddess.”

  “I’m happy that she’s working out,” I said, finishing my bagel.

  “Me, too,” Lash said, nodding. “Now that I don’t need to—”

  Lash cut off abruptly. I was motionless, too, suddenly ill at ease.

  Lash had had to eat people before, because of the potion he’d taken for years. It contained a lot of demon blood, and it was fact that demons needed to ingest bodies as part of their required diet. Months back, Dev had made a comment about Lash eating Robin if she caused any trouble. Apparently, it hadn’t been an idle one.

  Lash was carefully not looking at me, silent and motionless as a statue. I reached out, and touched his hand. He looked up, apprehension in his dark eyes for what I was going to say.

  “I know,” I said softly. “I know what Titus has to do to live, and what you had to do before.”

  Lash looked at me in shock, then went dark red with embarrassment. “How long have you known?” he whispered, his words hoarse. “Did Dev tell you last night, because he’s angry with me?”

  He’d never looked so vulnerable and young. “No. I’ve known since sometime in July or so. Theo alluded to it one night when he was talking to Danial.”

  “And you still came to save me?” Lash hissed, unbelieving. “Even though you knew that I’d had to...that I...what I’d had to do to keep living?”

  Now it was I who couldn’t look at him. “Yes.”

  “I need some wine,” Lash hissed. He got to his feet, and went over to the counter. Two seconds later, he was uncorking a bottle of the Groom Shiraz that Devlin seemed to keep on hand at all times. He poured us both a glass, and handed me one. We both sipped for a little, not saying anything. Hell, I’d needed the alcohol as much as he had.

  “I didn’t want you to know that,” Lash hissed almost inaudibly. “Of all the things to have you not know about me, that would have been at the top of my list.”

  It would have been at the very top of my list of things not to know about, too, but I didn’t say that. “It’s okay,” I said, sipping my wine. “You did what you had to do, Lash. Titus can’t help what he is. You had to do it, or die. There’s nothing more to say.”

  Lash stared at me, his dark eyes unreadable.

  “I’m glad you’re here with me, having dinner/breakfast with me,” I said firmly. “It doesn’t matter to me what you had to do to get here, Lash. It just matters that you’re here.”

  Lash reached over and touched my face gently with his hand. I put down my glass, and did the same to him, and as before, he closed his eyes, savoring my touch.

  Feeling welled up in me in a sudden encompassing wave. I hated that I couldn’t touch him, that I couldn’t take him in my arms, and tell him that it didn’t matter what he’d had to do, or what he was before he met me. I wanted to tell him I cared about him, that I...

  Stop, Sar. Don’t you dare utter another word, not even in your mind, much less aloud.

  I gritted my teeth and kept my mouth shut. Dev would be down soon. He wasn’t stupid, and he’d be livid to walk in on us. It wouldn’t matter to him that we weren’t kissing. He would know this for what it was at a glance: two people who cared about each other sharing a tender moment.

  “Why is Dev angry with you?” I asked.

  Lash opened his eyes, and gave me a sad smile. He turned then and brushed his lips across the back of my hand in a quick kiss. “You know why,” he whispered, and then got up.

  “We should go watch the movie. Dev will be awake and around soon. He’s likely got plans for you together.”

  I nodded, and got to my feet. “Ca
n you put the ingredients away while I load the dishwasher?”

  After everything was cleaned up and put away—including the remaining cornbread, which Lash labeled with his name to deter all would-be tasters—Lash poured us both some more wine, and we went into the living room.

  Lash sprawled on the couch, putting one of his feet up behind me on the back of the couch, the other on my lap, and then he rested his hand on my arm. Instead of telling him to move over, I rested one of my hands on his leg,

  “Do it. Go,” I said.

  Soon, we got to the scene where Dr. Doom was proposing to Sue Storm.

  “—four words that can change our world—”

  “I want oral sex,” Lash said bluntly.

  I gaped at him in shock. He laughed.

  “You pervert,” I said, appalled. “Shut up.”

  As the movie progressed, Lash made more comments like that on and off, with me amusedly responding for him to shut up. Soon, we were at the crux where Richards whipped out a pad excitedly, saying how he’d make a machine to recreate the cosmic storm.

  It was too much, even for a comic book movie. “How fucking long is that going to take?” I said, disbelieving. “He’s got to build an entire machine, power it, and he’s got no plan for that but a cute color drawing of it—”

  Lash writhed in unbridled laughter and fell off the couch, shaking the TV in its stand when he hit the floor. I roared with laughter.

  He gave me a dark look laced with a smile. “I should pull you down here with me,” he hissed, reaching for my foot.

  I yanked it quickly out of his reach, still laughing. “Get back up here.”

  I looked over to see Devlin standing in the doorway, watching us, his expression neutral. I froze, as he seemed a hair’s breath away from sliding into rage.

  Lash was unconcerned. “Dev, come on in and sit down,” he said, moving over away from me to make room on the couch. “We’re watching Fantastic Four. It’s nothing like the comic, so you might hate it, but—”

  “I had another movie in mind,” Devlin purred, going to the DVD player.