Among The Cloud Dwellers (Entrainment Series) (12 page)

His wicked smile interrupted my rambling. “I have no clue what these
jammies
are, but if it means you’re staying, hell, you can have my firstborn son.”

“At the rate things are going, Gabe, I just might.” I lifted myself up, laughing.

I called the Jourdains and spoke to a sleepy Nicolas, who mumbled a drowsy “no worries” and hung up the phone on me.

I sat the phone down and noticed Gabe busy rekindling the dying fire. I took a moment to observe him from a distance and wondered if it was such a good idea to stay the night. Never before in my life had I moved so quickly into a relationship, but with him I crossed the river, barely brushing the stepping stones, finding my feet confident and sure on each pause in the crossing, neither wondering how I got there nor worrying how I would get to the next one.
You’re learning to live in the present,
a whisper told me. It faded in the moment as Gabe got up and caught me gazing at him.

“What’s the matter, luv?” he asked softly.

“I just had one of those timeless moments—,” I told him, refocusing my eyes.
How am I going to know? Are you Xavier or not? I need a sign!
I yelled silently, but continued on with words, “The moment after the blow, when time dissolves but we know the pain will flare any given instant now. One of those times when you’re afraid if it lasts a second longer you might end up trapped in the wastelands forever. But it might not be so bad there after all, if all you’ve got to look forward to—is pain.”

“Yes, I’ve been there.” His response penetrated my entire being. I couldn’t believe he understood.

I
told Gabe that “jammies” were slang for pajamas. He answered with a puzzled look that made me believe his indigenous bunch slept au naturel. He offered me a makeshift camisole from a loud selection of T-shirts touting his off-road business. I turned them down. I couldn’t imagine the sort of dreams one might conjure slipping into Morpheus’s embrace wearing such abysmal fashion statements. I finally settled for one of his plain white T-shirts. I brushed my hair and rinsed my face of any trace of makeup and slipped the T-shirt on. I took my trousers off and was thankful the shirt reached below my hips.
Sort of a way-too-late chaste behavior, considering how I had responded to him earlier,
I blushed. I folded my clothes into a neat pile and, holding the bundle against my chest, walked barefoot on the plush rugs back to the bedroom. My shadows danced a wild gypsy reel as I crossed the room in the flickering light.

In Gabe’s bedroom a massive sleigh bed faced a glowing fireplace, rising as a soft island from the barren sea of burnished wood floors. A cluster of potted cactuses loitered by the sliding doors. A wide bookcase leaned against one wall, heaving beneath the weight of well-read volumes. A collection of car magazines occupied the lowest shelf. Racing trophies doubled as bookends. The spear and spear-thrower he had mentioned in his story hung on the wall bracketed by Aboriginal paintings. An especially colorful one caught my eye, and I couldn’t help but stare at it. A bright, radiant, feminine sun bathed everything in the painting with unconditional warmth, beaming life into creatures and supernatural beings. An extremely talented artist had captured movement on canvas in a spiraling nest of energy, creation, and genesis. The room felt warm and cozy. I dropped my clothes on a small wooden stool, sat down in front of the fire, and stared into the painting, enjoying the heat and silence.

Gabe walked in barefoot carrying frosted glasses of water. His belt-free jeans hung low, exposing sexy pelvic muscles. I thanked him for the water with a smile and took a long sip, welcoming the fresh taste. He sat behind me on the rug, stretched his legs around mine, and pulled my back against his bare chest. I noticed a tribal pattern of wings tattooed around his left ankle and asked what it was. He rested his chin on my right shoulder and nibbled at my earlobe before muttering something about a Cloud Dweller, an Aboriginal legend he was fond of. Then, still nibbling, he asked me if I was tired.

I relaxed against his chest, inhaling his masculine scent. I couldn’t get enough of it. “A little,” I said, “but it’s nice to sit here by the fire.”

I pointed at the sun painting and asked Gabe about it. He followed my gaze and in his deep, soothing voice began to tell me about it. His arms wrapped tighter around my waist, his soft breath brushed my neck like a desert breeze. His voice washed over me, spellbinding.

“The Dreamtime dates back—by some estimates—sixty-five thousand years. It’s the way the Aboriginal culture explains the origins of the land and its people. It speaks of Earth’s Creation by kindhearted and cruel gods and goddesses. In the Aboriginal worldview, a
jiva
or
guruwari
, a seed power, is deposited in the earth. Every meaningful activity, event, or life process that occurs at a particular place leaves behind a vibrational residue in the earth, just as plants leave an image of themselves as seeds. The shape of the land—its mountains, rocks, riverbeds, and waterholes—and its unseen vibrations, echo the events that brought that place into creation. Everything in the natural world is a symbolic footprint of the metaphysical beings whose actions created our world. As with a seed, the potency of an earthly location is wedded to the memory of its origin. The Aborigines called this potency the ‘Dreaming’ of a place, and this Dreaming constitutes the sacredness of the earth. Only in extraordinary states of consciousness can one be aware of, or attuned to, the inner dreaming of the earth.”

I felt myself slip into a trance-like state as his words vibrated against my neck. He pointed at the bright sunshine in the painting.

“There once was a time on our Earth when nothing else but a beautiful woman existed. Her name was Sun Mother, and she lay fast asleep in a cave, deeply hidden below the Nullarbor Plain. The Great Father Spirit stirred her from her sleep. And as she rose and opened her eyes, she cast light upon the land, causing darkness to disappear. With her first breath she gave life to the sleeping seeds, and she began to walk, spreading life from north to south, from east to west, into every being, into every plant.

“Insects, grasses, trees, and animals all woke up to take their places and make their homes. Snakes began to slither, turning their paths into rivers of precious waters where fish teemed.

“She then brought balance, creating the seasons, and ended her long journey by disappearing below the horizon. Every creature held its breath in the darkness until the following morning when she reappeared again. And so she created the day and night, allowing everyone and everything a very well deserved period of rest.”

Gabe inhaled a deep breath, stirring me gently from my spellbound state.

“That is a beautiful story, Gabe. How do you know so much?” I asked him dreamily.

“I don’t know much. I’m actually a very selective-brain bloke. If it doesn’t interest me, it won’t stick.” His lips kissed my neck slowly. “But I know I respect the people who’ve roamed these lands since the beginning of time, and I know they respect the land. So the least I could do was honor their sacred sites and not go trampling all over them when I raced.”

It all made sense, but his last sentence held a deep bitterness I had never heard in his voice before.

“This is how we slept on the plane,” he said quietly.

“This is a lot more comfortable than a plane.”

“The bed would be ideal.” In a quick, seamless move he swept me in his arms and stood. I wrapped my arms around his neck and swallowed a gulp. My feet dangled nimbly the few steps separating us from the bed. With a spark in his eyes, he laid me down, taking a quick peek at my panties.

“Gabe!” I exclaimed, pulling the T-shirt down.

“Sorry, luv,” he said, grinning. “How about I show you mine and we’re even?” he added, as he reached for his button fly.

“No, thanks.” Turning away from him, I slipped under the cozy comforter.

His quiet laughter reached me, and just like on the plane, I was sprinkled with joyful, sparkly glitter. “That’s just fine since I’m not wearing any.”

My head snapped instantly, and I rolled over. My pupils widened, absorbing and reacting to the shifting light, flashing from cornered shadow to brighter, glowing flames to carry my gaze across the room to . . . Gabe’s black boxers.

“Made you look,” he said, getting under the covers.

I smashed a pillow on his head.

I was burning.

“Ouch.” From beneath the pillow his muffled laughter stopped abruptly, then sudden stillness.

Did I kill him?
I thought for a split second.
No way!
I bent to peek at him.

His blue eyes laughed at me just before he sprang with the soundless agility of a jaguar and pinned me to the mattress and began tickling me to death.

I laughed so hard tears streamed down my cheeks, my effort to fight back futile against his strength, my attempts to squirrel my body out of his reach confounded by his anticipation. I could barely breathe with all that laughter. I began to kick blindly, struggling to free myself.

“Gabe—you’re going to kill me,” I cried, laughing.

“Say please and I’ll stop.”

“No way in hell!” I incinerated him through tears with a withering glare.
Yeah, right.

He just glared back and resumed his torture.

I jolted with laughter, shaking my head, and caught sight of his arm within striking distance, pinning mine down. I bit him.

“Ouch!” he said rather angrily. He released my arm.

Taking advantage of his distraction, I gathered all my strength and pushed against his chest with one free hand.

It didn’t work.
Accidenti!

He looked down at me with daring insolence, a confident predator toying with its helpless prey. I kept glaring at him and then realized he had stopped tickling me. His eyes shifted along with the energies around us, feeding off the heat of our intertwined bodies. His knee bent, insinuating its way between my legs. His hands released mine to cup my face, sealing the distance between our mouths. The tenderness I tasted in his kiss, after such intense wrestling, left me breathless.

Slowly he pulled away, holding my gaze. All resentment forgotten, I felt cold and snuggled deeper under the covers, pressing my body along his, one arm under the pillow, the other against his chest. He pulled me closer, resting his hand on the curve of my waist, and kissed me goodnight. I was about to close my eyes when I caught a quick grin creasing his cheek.

“Unless you’d like to play a bit longer . . .” He caressed my leg with his.

I smiled, leaned my head on his chest, and whispered him goodnight.

Comforted by the crackling fire and his steady heartbeat, I was asleep instantly.

*

The following morning I stirred and woke up slowly to the sound of rain pelting relentlessly against the garden doors.

Over Gabe’s solid body, through the rain-streaked window, a glimpse of light peeked, announcing the break of dawn. Next to me, Gabe slept on his back, one arm bent by his head, the other above the covers. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at him. In my mind, I overlapped his strong, present features with a darker, distant memory, obstinately searching for similarities.

Xavier’s face faded against the living energy of Gabe’s presence.

I didn’t know what to believe. Life had taken matters into its own hands, and lately, I had confronted and ultimately accepted extraordinary events. Even Madame Framboise had confirmed this new path with her tarot—and Gabe as the next development.

Talk about a long-distance relationship.
Oddio!
This isn’t even funny!
He’s living in the southern hemisphere, in a winter doomed forever to chase a reflected summer and vice versa; two parallel train tracks never meant to merge.

We were as Paolo and Francesca in Dante’s
Inferno
.

Well, they had committed adultery,
I thought, easing my fears. That’s why they were punished.

Just like Xavier and you.

A heavy blow of despair swept me off my elbows, and I hit the mattress. This can’t be it. I wasn’t going to be punished for something which had occurred centuries ago.

That’s why you have been made aware of it.

To break the pattern?
I answered my own inner voice.

To go fearless through the portal. He leads by example.

I frowned, not understanding. Maybe I didn’t see it all.

You have seen plenty, dear child. The path unfolds, and there is no turning back.

Well, since you seem to know it all, dear voice—is Gabe Xavier?
I asked defiantly.

Gabe is magic,
the rain whispered against the windows.

I knew that. I shifted my gaze to look at him.

He was staring at me as if he had seen a ghost.

“Bonjour.”

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He rolled over, sank his head on the pillow, and went back to sleep, exposing his bare back to me. Two narrow scars ran along the entire length of his shoulder blades. I was surprised and frightened as a memory that wasn’t mine, the memory of the pain that had carved such marks on his back, came to me. I wondered what it would feel like to touch the scars and why I didn’t feel them last night. On the couch I’d had my hands all over his back.

I raised my head to take a better look. They were but a shade darker than his skin tone, barely visible. Ancient scars.

All of a sudden I saw him as vulnerable. I wanted to protect him from ever feeling pain again. I raised a hand to my mouth with the shocking realization that I was falling in love. My first impulse betrayed me. I just about threw back the covers, grabbed my clothes, and ran to the other end of the world.
Run home!
My second impulse wanted to throw back the covers, grab my clothes, and run back to Umeracha.
Not far enough.

I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled through my mouth. I struggled with a dozen more slow, deep breaths until I felt the tight knot of terror begin to dissolve. With light fingers I traced the length of his scars. He stirred beneath my touch. I wasn’t ready to face him with the realization of my growing love plastered all over my face. The last thing I wanted to do was wake him. I pulled away and lay back until I finally managed to churn myself into a troubled sleep.

Hours later, I woke up alone. The rain had stopped, and bright daylight filtered through the windows. The fire had been rekindled. From outside, the unfamiliar chirping of some sort of exotic bird reached my ears above the sound of crackling wood. I rolled over to Gabe’s body imprint in the mattress and inhaled deeply, soaking up the warmth of his heat. The bathroom door opened quietly, and Gabe stumbled out, still half asleep. He smiled lazily at my body parked on his side of the bed, ran a hand through his hair, and sat right next to me. “Did you migrate?” he asked, pulling the covers off me.

“Sort of,” I said. “Your side’s warmer.” Suddenly conscious of his T-shirt wrapped around my waist, I felt grateful for the covers hiding the rest of my body.

“Are you cold?” Gently, he pushed me over to lie back next to me.

“Not anymore.” I snuggled against him. “Do you have to go to work?” I worried this might already be coming to an end.

“No. I called,” he yawned. “I’m going to have a three-day weekend for a change.”

“It’s already Friday?” I choked on panic creeping up my throat.

“Yes.”

I raised my head and locked eyes with him. “I leave tomorrow evening.”