Forged Under Blue Fire: Indigo Knights Book VIII

by A. J. Downey

  I felt like a goddess fallen to earth, like I should be the subject of some of those sensual and erotic old Roman paintings.

  I felt beautiful and serene. I felt bold and beholden to no one and nothing but the wind against my skin and the firelight that kissed my skin and the man who panted and groaned beneath me as I fucked him. God, the way he looked up at me. The adoration in his eyes, the longing in his gaze, the reverence in his touch.

  I both worshipped and felt worshipped. I both gave everything of myself and felt I was given everything this man had to give me in return. We were a perfect ebb and flow of erotic energy. A perfect circle, the cycle of life and death playing out between us over and over again with every rise and fall of my hips, with every stroke of his cock inside me.

  His hands on my tits, gripping hard, I threw my head back and caught a glimpse of the threesome inside. Of Everleigh riding Narcos in a mirror of what Oz and I were doing. Of Driller positioning himself behind her, hiding her from view, licking his palm, stroking himself, lubing her ass from the tube in his opposite hand.

  He fit himself inside her ass and she threw back her head and cried out. A wild sound pure and feral and free and accepting of their love.

  God, the pure and beautiful sight of it alone made me tighten up around my man. Made him grunt, sent my hand drifting from his chest to where our bodies met.

  I watched the threesome fucking just inside through the window, at the eroticism of it, the poetry in motion, the pure, fantastical, beautiful work of living art in front of me and I let it fuel my fire, stoke the blaze in my belly ever higher, the pleasure coiling, spiraling high and higher still.

  I was a falcon in the wind, riding the thermal of sex and power, climbing higher and higher, wings outspread, inhibitions forgotten? Damn if I didn’t fly too close to the sun.

  Just like Icarus, the fire of that glowing unattainable ball of pleasure flared, the wax holding my wings together melted, and with the stars falling from the sky to flit at the edges of my vision I plunged. Falling, falling, falling from such unearthly heights, I convinced myself for a split second that falling was all there was and that falling was all there would ever be until with a mighty devastating crash, I hit the warm bathwater state of that unending river of afterglow and came back to my senses slowly.

  What I came back to, was Oz’s hands low on my hips, fingers wrapped around to my ass, his body still fitted inside mine despite the impossible angle I lay in, heels at my sides, head between his feet, the tops of my thighs slightly screaming and buzzing with the stretch.

  I panted, muscles still spasmodic with little aftershocks as I panted, reaching blindly in front of me. Oz’s hands left my hips, tangled with mine and we pulled me upright again, both of us breathless, both of us laughing as Everleigh let out a pleasure-filled wail of her own release and both Narcos and Driller cheered.

  There was the clap of hands and Oz and I exchanged a look and burst out into a gale of laughter at the audacity of those two high-fiving each other over their girlfriend’s orgasm.

  To be fair, it was a well-earned celebration.

  31

  Oz…

  Fuck, the weekend was too short. All too soon it was Sunday fucking morning and we had to head back to the city. To the maze of rage and pain with its endless twists and curves that even Ellie with all her book smarts couldn’t predict and me with all my street smarts, I just couldn’t seem to navigate.

  It was an oil slicked street fresh after a rain, or worse – a street full of grass clippings. Dangerous as fuck to ride and unpredictable the outcome, and I fuckin’ hated that I couldn’t hedge my bets. The only thing I could do was stick to the rule of the street and be and act impervious to all the bullshit.

  I felt like I could do that now. I felt like I had to. One of us had to be the rock and my Ellie had already taken more than the brunt of it, more than her fair share.

  “You alright?” she asked, eyeing me, as she shrugged into the straps to hold her easel with its still, slightly slick in places canvas to her back.

  She wasn’t done with the painting, but she was close, and it was straight fire. Something that looked like it needed to hang on a gallery wall somewhere.

  “I’m good, babe. How about you?”

  “Could use about a week more of this, but I’m alright. Better, now.” She took one more wistful look at the cabin where Driller locked up behind us and I smiled.

  “You’re welcome to come back anytime,” Narcos called from where he sat astride his bike, Everleigh climbing on the back behind him.

  “We’re all good,” Driller called, trotting up to us. Ellie got on behind me and settled on.

  Driller flung a leg over his ride and Ellie called out, “Thank you, you guys. Really, I mean it. This weekend has meant the world to me. I’ll be forever grateful.”

  “Think nothing of it,” Narcos said and started his bike. We all started up and just before letting out his clutch and rolling out he yelled back over his shoulder, “Welcome to the family!”

  Ellie covered her smile with the bandana I loaned her for the ride out here and back and eyes sparkling with joy behind the clear lenses of her safety glasses, we hit the road.

  The ride back was an easy one and almost went by too fast. All too soon Driller, Narcos and Everleigh split off from our small pack with a wave, taking their exit for home and it was just me and Ellie, crossing the expanse of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge – Indigo City looming on the east shore of the bay, waiting for us to come home. With every quarter mile that passed beneath the bike’s tires, the gravity of our situation and the shitshow we were riding back into weighed me down just that little bit more.

  It was okay, though. I’d had my much-needed rest and I was ready to carry this burden to the finish line. Looking at Ellie’s pensive and pinched look in my side-view mirror only deepened my resolve, carving it into the bedrock of my being.

  We pulled up to the curb two doors down from her place where there was parking and I shut off the bike. She immediately climbed off with a loud groan and I was with her on that one. It was a long hard ride, even if it was a good one with fair skies.

  She took off her helmet and up ended it while I pulled down my bandana. Her safety glasses went into the bowl of her overturned lid while I got up, joints creaking a little more than they used to, so I could get her bag for her.

  She gave a heavy sigh, and pulled the cover from off her nose and mouth and I could see it already, all over her beautiful face, the lines of worry, the stress; it was already settling in. Whether she wore it with grace or not, it still sent a pang through my chest at the sight of it.

  “Stay with me,” she said abruptly. “I don’t want you to go.”

  I sighed and did the hardest thing I’d ever had to do and said, “I ain’t got no clean uniforms for work or nothin’. I gotta go home.”

  She looked dejected but nodded her understanding.

  I sighed and pulled her close, kneading the back of her neck with my fingertips as I pressed lips to her forehead.

  “Then ride safe and text me as soon as you get there,” she said. “I’ll turn my phone on.”

  I felt my shoulders drop and said, “You know what? Fuck it. I ain’t gotta be in until late. I’ll go home, do some laundry and be back in a couple of hours. You good with that?”

  She looked up at me and the light in her eyes told me all I needed to know. Yeah, she was more than good with that.

  “Okay,” she said, and sounded much stronger.

  “Let’s get you inside and off the street,” I murmured and I walked her to her door. She dug out her keys from her jacket pocket and let herself in.

  “Don’t open it for no one but me, mmkay?”

  “Okay.”

  I leaned down and kissed her soundly and with a whole lotta reluctance, let her go inside, handing off her bag once she crossed the threshold.

  “See you soon,” she said and I nodded.

  “Real soon,” I promised.
r />   I went home, texted her as soon as I got in, and got my laundry going. I shot a text to Driller and Narcos and let ‘em know the eagle had landed and Ellie was safe and sound at home. A few cursory texts back and forth giving each other a ration of shit and I sighed, hauling my ass into a hot shower to shave the mountain man Steve look off my head and face so I could feel somewhat human again.

  My phone rang mid-way through shaving my head and it was Youngblood’s ringtone. I answered, putting it on speaker and said, “Yeah, yo, what’s up my man?”

  “Are you in the bathroom?” he demanded.

  “Yeah, yeah, just shaving my head, not taking a shit or nothing. We may be close but we’re not that close.”

  “Fuck no we’re not, you save that shit for your butt buddy, Golden.”

  “Ha, ha – fuck you, dude. So, what’s up?”

  “This Little Havana thing this coming weekend, you good to handle it or you want to pass the baton?”

  “Shit,” I sighed. “Ah, boy – with everything going on it skated clean outta my mind, but I got it my man.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. It’s my thing, I’ll follow through.”

  “You sure you’re good, because –”

  “Yes!” I insisted. “I’m good, I’ll make some calls before I head back over to Ellie’s.”

  “Oh, it’s like that now, is it?” he asked, and I could hear the devilish grin over the line.

  “Ain’t nowhere near whipped as you, brother.”

  “Ha, yeah right – welcome to the club, my brother.”

  “Man, I already been in the club.”

  “Not this one. So, what’s it like to be in loooove?”

  “Man, don’t ever say it like that again, why don’t you go fuck your woman if you need a reminder?”

  He laughed outright and I shook my head at my reflection. “A’ight, I’ma hang up now, I got shit to do.”

  I tapped the icon to end the call to him still laughing. It was fair enough, after all the shit I been giving the lot of ‘em gettin’ themselves ball and chained.

  Ellie was different. So very different from any other woman I’d been with before. I sighed and rinsed my razor in the sink and took a good look at myself in the mirror. She softened all my hard edges. Okay, well, not all of them, but a good majority of ‘em and once upon a time I thought that made a dude weak.

  I’d been wrong, though. Before this whole thing, before Ellie – I was only living half a life. Together we were strong as fuck, and I intended we should stay that way.

  I played a couple rounds of a shoot ‘em up on my console while my clothes finished drying so the load I had in the wash could go in and the time just fucking dragged mercilessly. I shot a few text messages back and forth to my girl, keeping her updated and she did likewise.

  I did laundry, she got her painting out of one easel and onto her main one at home. I showered, she showered. I played a stupid video game, she made some of her fancy tea. I couldn’t wait to see her, she couldn’t wait either and was on the couch with a book, just waiting on me.

  That felt good. Incredibly good, actually, and I looked around this shithole apartment, this half-lived existence and wanted more. A lot more.

  I packed up as much of my shit as I could carry in one load and headed back over. When she answered the door, her eyes widened in surprise.

  “Are you moving in?” she asked.

  “Yeah. You got a problem with that?” She blinked and looked pensive for a moment and opened the door wide enough for me to pass through with my big duffel bag and extra gym bag.

  “Nope.”

  “Good,” I said and stepped inside.

  She shut the door behind me and said, “Don’t you have a lease?”

  I shook my head. “Month to month.”

  “What about your furniture and stuff?” she asked.

  “Don’t give a shit.”

  “Oh, damn.” She looked a little disappointed and I laughed.

  “Why?”

  “I like your bed better.”

  I grinned. “That we can keep, then.”

  “Okay, good. Let’s put your stuff away.”

  And that was that. Just like that. It was the easiest transition I think I’d ever made in my life and she genuinely seemed one hundred percent committed and cool with it as she knelt on her bedroom floor and shifted things around in her dresser to make room for my socks and underwear.

  “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?” I asked, sticking a hanger in the top of one of my tee shirts.

  “And you’re kind of a clothes horse,” she said dryly.

  I laughed. “Oh, she’s got jokes!”

  She smiled faintly and murmured, “She’s got jokes.”

  “You know that Little Havana block party is this weekend,” I said.

  “That’s right,” she said chewing her bottom lip as she put a bunch of my undershirts in a drawer. “You still want to go to that with me? I mean, have me there?”

  “Yup. I mean, I been thinking about it.”

  “Yeah?”

  “We ain’t got shit to be ashamed about, right?”

  She looked a touch startled and shook her head. “No! I mean, you don’t feel like I am, do you?”

  “Nope. Not at all. I’m just sayin’ that what we do or don’t do ain’t none of these motherfuckers’ business, but at the same time, we ain’t gotta be runnin’ scared neither. Who gives a shit what people think? Mmkay? We know the truth. The people closest to us know the truth, and that’s all that matters. Am I right?”

  She thought about it, the wheels turning for an exceptionally long amount of time and as much as I loved her for thinking everything through, the wait liked to drive me nuts. Finally, she reached the same conclusion I had by nodding slowly at first before picking up speed, the motion becoming resolute.

  “You’re right,” she said. “You’re absolutely right.”

  “Fuck them motherfuckers,” I said, and she smiled and nodded.

  “Fuck those motherfuckers,” she agreed and it was adorable coming from her.

  “You hungry?” she asked.

  “You cookin’?” I asked.

  “Actually, I was thinking about ordering Thai from that place I took you to. You’re still dressed, will you pick it up if I do?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Life was gonna get good if we had more nights like this and not less, and I was determined to make that happen.

  32

  Elka…

  The week went by in a blur, and I admit to some difficulty with our somewhat mismatching schedules. I would get up in the morning and Oz would insist on getting up with me and would take me to work. He didn’t like the idea of me taking public transit anymore. Once he would drop me off, he would either return to our apartment and would sleep a little more, or he would go off to the gym to get a workout in.

  At two he would text me every day that he got to work safe and he would see me at home.

  I would work, and depending on if I could or not, would catch a ride home with one of my coworkers headed that way. On the one occasion I couldn’t get a ride, and I’d told Oz? I’d stepped out to a patrol car waiting for me and a couple of officers on their meal break ready to take me home.

  I have no idea how Oz arranged that, and I honestly didn’t want to know. I was deathly afraid it would get him into some kind of trouble, and I didn’t want that for him at all. If anything, I wanted to be the least troublesome thing in his life, right now. I already felt like I caused him so much grief.

  When he would come home late at night, he would usually find me painting or on the couch, curled up with a book. At least once, maybe twice, he found me fast asleep with the book that was supposed to be in my lap on the floor.

  Once, I woke up to him carrying me to bed. Once, I woke up the next morning to my alarm, cuddled up against his nice warm body and I couldn’t tell you how I got there.

  Today was the big day of the Cuban block part
y thing he was volunteering for and with a change of clothes in a small gym bag, he’d left early.

  He had told me to open the door for Everleigh and the girls and that Yale would give me a ride later but wouldn’t tell me why the girls were coming. Just that he figured we could all get ready together here.

  In my tiny shoe closet of an apartment? Wasn’t there anyplace better?

  I was going through my closet trying to decide on just what to wear when the knock fell at my door. I looked through what my sister and I had always called the spy-dee hole and caught the crown of all of that gorgeously dyed auburn hair that was a familiar trait of Everleigh’s.

  I opened the door and she squealed happily, for all that she had never really spoken in my presence and threw her arms around my neck in a joyous hug like she hadn’t seen me in absolutely forever. Never mind that we’d only seen each other just last week.

  “Hi!” a bubbly little blonde cried from just behind her, another redhead next to her wearing hippy glasses clutching a white cane for the blind.

  “Hi,” the redhead called, without seeing me, just turning her head in a vague notion of where I might be.

  “Hi,” I exclaimed half-dubiously.

  “I’m Aly, this is my best friend Dawnie, we’re here to help you get ready.”

  “Did Oz just seriously send…” I faltered and Dawnie grinned.

  “A blind chick as your fashion consultant?” she asked. “Yes, yes he did. Guess that doesn’t account much for your style, does it?”

  I was taken aback at her abrasiveness, and then she grinned wider and I realized that she and Oz shared the same dry, sarcastic brand of humor. I laughed and Aly rolled her eyes.

  “No, that’s all me,” Aly declared. “Lead the way into your bedroom, lady. Let’s get you all dolled up!”

  Everleigh nodded happily and looped her arm through mine and practically dragged me into my own apartment, a woman on a mission.