Only Witness, The (29 page)

              “I should have believed you straight away, I'm sorry that I didn't. So sorry. It won't happen again.” Vera moved over to the bed, sat and dropped her head down.

              Deacon walked around the bed, knelt down before her. “You don't need to keep apologizing,” he stopped her with a kiss before she could say anything else. “I said we're good and we are. I grew up hearing about a connection like this, it was told to me so many times it took on the same quality as Santa Claus, and then it happened with us. I can't even imagine not knowing about it and then one day figuring out that someone is in your head and your heart. You could have run, have told me that it was crazy, but you didn't.”

              “I love you, Deke.”

              “I know you do, and I love you. Look, it's sort of backwards but we need to get to know one another, figure out what we don't know and make sure we know it. I think that if we don't, the empathy won't be enough. I don't want that. I want you. I need you.”

              “I'm not going anywhere,” she replied, her hand coming up to touch the side of his face. “I think it's a really good idea, though. Should we start now?”

              “You up for more talking tonight?” He wasn't looking for a way out of the long overdue talk, but he could see the toll that stress was taking on the woman he loved. She was paler than normal, dark circles under her soulful brown eyes, and she had the general air of exhaustion about her.

              “I want to know everything, Deke. I need to know everything, because I've got the feeling The Strays aren't too keen on people stepping out of line. I've been reading the stuff that Lina gave us, the rules in particular are...” Vera swallowed hard.

              She was scared by what she'd read of the rules, Deacon nearly sighed with relief as he felt what she was feeling brush against him. He opened himself to her and immediately felt stronger and calmer. Now it was time to return the favor, calm her. “Some are antiquated,” Deke brought his hand up to stroke the side of her face, “but they still stand. They're taken seriously. Breaking the rules has consequences, swift and brutal consequences for some.”

              “Death.” Vera shut her eyes at his touch. “Did Susan know about that before she vouched for Houdini?”

              “Yes, there aren't many in our community who don't know the rules. They're not secret.” Deacon sighed. “And if they were to find out that Houdini and Susan weren't actually together when she said so...” he trailed off. It would be a death offense for both of them.

              “The rules seem very pro-children. Are kids are expected?”

              “Not expected, encouraged. It's the best way to keep the bloodlines going. Each generation more and more families die out. There are less of us now than there were twenty years ago. Only a fraction of what there were a hundred years ago.”

              “So essentially they're trying to stop the extinction of your kind?”

              “In a way. They're not concerned about the other packs. They're on the outside and they don't want to be back inside. They've been great to us, treated us well and offered us a place with them when we needed it the most, but that doesn't mean that they're warm and fuzzy or that this came without a price.”

              “I was afraid of that,” Vera shut her eyes. “Tell me.”

              “I would if I could,” Deacon slid his hands onto her thighs. “I don't know what they'll ask of us, but whatever it is, we do it. And if they call on us again in a year, we do it. We do what it takes to protect the group.”

              “What have they asked people to do? Do you know that?”

              “I've heard stories,” he replied. “Not from Strays but from those who said that they were victims.”

              “I don't really want to hear those stories, do I?”

              “No,” Deacon replied honestly. “If there had been more time to make the choice, I'd have told you everything. Let you choose what you wanted to do fully informed.”

              “I'd have chosen to come with you, no matter what you told me.”

              “I think that's enough talking for tonight. Go on and lay down, Vera, let me do your back and then you can get some rest. You're tired.”

              “I had something else in mind for after you did my back,” Vera replied, her tone innocent, her eyes were anything but. “However, if you'd rather sleep....”

              Deacon cut off her next words with a kiss. His mouth covered hers, slow and sweet until she was relaxed against him. He was careful not to brush against her back, the scratches were nearly healed but still painful for her if she laid on her back.

              They hadn't been together intimately since before the wedding. He would be a liar if he said that he wasn't suffering because of it. It seemed that he was in a permanent state of arousal these days. Right now he was painfully hard just from the kiss.

              Vera's hands shifted to his shoulders. “Deke,” she was slightly out of breath as she broke the kiss.

              “I know,” he pulled back with true regret. “Let me get the ointment, I'll do your back.”

              “That's not what I was going to say,” her hands dug into his shoulders. “I was going to say that I'm pretty sure my back is healed enough for us to not stop.”

              “I don't want to hurt you.”

              “It won't hurt just as long as I'm not on my back. Something tells me that we can make that work.”

              “Baby...”

              “Forget I said anything,” equal measures of hurt and anger flashed through her eyes. “Just get the ointment.”

              “Vera,” he wasn't going to be shut out, not again, not like this. “I'm just worried about hurting you. I couldn't stand it if I did. Don't think I don't want you or don't need you because...”

              “Deacon.” Her use of his full name stopped him mid-sentence, she only called him Deke these days, unlike when they'd first become involved. “Shut up.”

              “What?”

              “Shut up. Kiss me and take me to bed. Please, don't make me have to beg.”

              “You tell me if it hurts,” he told her. She nodded and then he gave her what she asked for. This time the kiss had nothing sweet about it, nothing held back, and she responded more eagerly than he could have imagined.

              For a fleeting moment he wondered how she'd hid her state of arousal so well. He might have pulled back to ask but then he felt her hands on his stomach, moving down until she had her hands against his length. The simple touch was almost painful because he was so hard. He wanted her, no, needed her more than he'd ever thought possible. Deacon broke the kiss only so that he could reach down and grab the hem of her shirt, found her skin underneath already bare.

              It was impossible to go slow even though he knew that he should, that he should touch and tease until she was insane beneath him, but it had been so long. “Deke,” her hands dug into his shoulders.

              Something snapped inside of him, he heard and felt it and the next thing he knew he had Vera on her stomach. The pajama pants she was wearing were no match for his strength or hunger; the material tore as he tugged them down.

              “Oh, shit!” She moaned the words and he hadn't even touched her yet, not really. Deacon tossed the remains of the pants away and she rose to her knees.

              He slid his hand between her legs and found her wet. “Fuck.”

              “I sure as hell hope that's what we're about to do,” she replied as she looked over her shoulder to smile at him. Her ability to speak seemed to disappear as he slipped two fingers into her silky wetness. Moans and cries spilled from her throat, her hips moved against him. She was ready and that was all he needed to know.

              Sinking into her was like nothing he'd ever felt, like coming home and being born all at once. Deacon grappled for control, hoped for enough blood to remain in his brain so that he didn't reach out to stroke her back.

              She met every one of his strokes, no matter how fast and deep and he knew that there was no way he was going to last long. It was good, amazing, and he could feel the need for release rushing through him.

              Deacon felt her body start to clench even tighter around him, so warm and wet around him. “Deke!” She cried out, fingers dug into the comforter. “Please. Please. Please. FUCK!” Her head flew back as tremors rolled through her body.

              It was the feeling of her orgasm, the sound of his name on her lips that sent him over the edge with a growl. He thrust one last time, hard and deep, and buried himself completely inside of her. It was then and only then he realized that they hadn't been careful, hadn't been safe.

              The idea of Vera carrying his child had him hardening inside of her once more.

Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

              The days fell into a routine for Vera, and she was fine with that. Routine was good. Routine was normal. Doing the same thing over and over again gave her a feeling of order and peace. She would have been perfectly content if not for the damn calendar. An inanimate object was the largest source of her stress these days, because it proved that each that passed, each time she'd slept, had dinner or did the laundry, was one day closer to the dawning of the moon. One step closer to the ultimate answer to the only question that mattered, would she live?

              On the outside she put on a brave face, didn't mention the impending event and when someone else did, she smiled and assured them that she was going to be just fine. Inside, deep down inside, behind the heavy steel she'd constructed to keep Deacon from knowing everything she felt, she was a mess. At night when Deacon slept, she'd ease from the bed, make preparations for if she didn't survive.

              There were letters. She'd written letters to the three people who were now for all intents and purposes her family, trying to ease the pain that they'd feel and let them know how much she loved and adored all of them. The letter she wrote to Deacon was more of a book, a long-winded missive about how she needed him to survive past losing her. How she wanted him to be happy one day, to find someone else he could love. The paper was stained with tears because she knew that there was no way he survived her death.

              Despite the roller coaster ride they'd had so far, there wasn't a thing that she would change given the chance, not even dying, if that was the price for feeling what she felt now. It was more than the empathy, more than love. It was being at home, it was being at peace. It was knowing that no matter what when she looked back there would be no regret.

              The sound of a chime pulled her from her thoughts. It took a minute to realize that the sound came from the doorbell. They weren't expecting visitors and any mail they received was delivered to a box on the main road. Fear spread through her, the hair on the back of her neck stood up as she started towards the door.

              It was one of the rare times when she was alone in the house. Deacon was at the factory where he made lawn chair parts, a job that was beneath him, but he did it without complaint. Susan was on another interview, this time with a clinic for low income families fifty miles away, and Houdini was just out. He'd been unable to find work. Tension was starting to spring back up among all of them with money being so tight, tighter than Vera had experienced since she first started New to You and had to live on dollar menu food for dinner most nights.

              The doorbell rang again; whoever it was apparently lacked patience. It had to be a salesperson or someone who'd taken a wrong turn and gotten lost. She'd give them the best directions that she could and send them on their way. Instead of an unfamiliar salesperson or turned-around stranger, Vera found Lina on the other side of the door. “Hello, Vera.”

              “Hello Lina.”

              “May I come into your home?”

              “Of course,” Vera smiled, or hoped that she did, and motioned for the woman to step inside. “I'm surprised to see you.” Her manners kicked in, trumping the nerves for the moment. “Would you like something to drink?”

              “That would be good,” Lina smiled at her. “How are you all settling in?”

              “Pretty smooth sailing so far,” Vera replied, “come with me to the kitchen, I can throw together something if you're hungry.” She wanted to ask, straight out, what the woman was doing there, but it would come across as rude.

              “That would be very nice of you. And I must say, this is a lovely home. I had my doubts when you bought it sight unseen, but it's really great.”

              “Thanks. I don't want to be rude, Lina, but why are you here?”

              “It's not rude. It's a logical question. How you're feeling, Vera? The moon is close, only ten days away.”

              “I'm aware of that and I feel fine, great even.” Vera entered the kitchen and took two bottles of water out of the fridge. “Please sit down. Is there anything you don't like to eat?”

              “I'm not too particular, especially when I'm this hungry.” Lina sat down at the table. For the first time Vera realized that the woman was dressed much more casually than any other time that she'd seen her. Still she was a beauty even in simple jeans and a black sweater.

              To someone watching from the outside they'd appear to be friends just sitting around and talking, enjoying each other’s company, but Vera knew that this wasn't a simple social call. “Okay, let me see what I have and while I do, I'd greatly appreciate if you tell me why you're here, Lina.”

              “I need to speak to Deacon. There's something that we need done, and The Council has decided that he's the perfect person to do it.”

              Vera recalled Deacon's words when he'd told her about The Strays. They'd require a favor, or more than one, and when they attempted to collect there was no saying no. Cold fear flooded through her and she slammed it down, back behind the door where all her worse fears lived, before Deacon could get the slightest hint of it. “I'm sure it won't be a problem,” she swallowed hard. “Do you like pasta?”