Between Light and Dark (23 page)

"Congratulations!" Reese was the first to speak. He hugged
Laurell. The others followed, calling out their well-wishes.
Hillary hugged first Laurell, then Axiom. All the attention
made him a bit uncomfortable. He glanced at Laurell. She
wore a strained smile that did not reach her eyes. Apparently,
she did not relish the attention either.

"Here you go, Ax," Wayne said, plopping into a chair beside him and holding out a brown cylindrical object. Axiom
eyed the thing, then took it, turning it in his fingers. He
raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in question. "What am
Ito do with this?"

Wayne chuckled and tipped his cowboy hat low, then leaned forward, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "It's a cigar. Cuban. Shhh. That's between us."

For some reason, Wayne wished the nature of his gift to
be a secret. Axiom started to tuck the cigar in his jeans
pocket.

"Whoa!" Wayne protested. "Don't do that. You'll bend
it. We gotta smoke it now, buddy. It's good luck." Wayne
motioned toward Laurell. "You know, for the little guy."

Axiom nodded, though he did not know what his friend
meant.

"Here," Wayne said, taking the cigar back and pulling
out a cutting instrument. He clipped off one end of the cigar, lit it, and then took a deep inhalation from the other
end before blowing smoke from between his lips.

Axiom observed Wayne's movements with interest. He
had seen humans performing this ritual before, but had
never understood the point of it.

Wayne's brown eyes sparkled with delight as he handed
the cigar back to Axiom. "Your turn. Take a puff." Wayne
then placed his own cigar in his mouth and smoke came out.
"Smooth," Wayne said, his angular features lit with pleasure.

Axiom placed his cigar between his lips and inhaled
deeply. Heat seared his throat, and he could not breathe. He
broke into a fit of choking coughs. Not smooth, he thought.
Not smooth in the slightest.

"Not so fast, my friend. A fine cigar is a thing to be savored." Wayne patted him on the back.

When he could speak again, Axiom handed the gift back
to the other man. "I appreciate your gift, but I think someone else here may enjoy it more than I."

Just then Thumper appeared at Wayne's side, eyes wide
behind his round glasses. "Is that a real Cuban cigar?"

Wayne shrugged. "I only had two, but Ax doesn't want
his." Wayne tilted his head toward Axiom. "You mind?"

Axiom waved his hand. "By all means."

A moment later, Thumper was happily puffing on the
thing, and he and Wayne were immersed in a conversation
about the best and the worst cigars they had ever had.

"Can we talk?" He heard Laurell's soft voice at his side.
She stood next to his chair, wrapped in the cloak he had
given her, cheeks flushed with cold, eyes wrapped in firelight.

"Of course," he agreed. He rose and they left the warmth
of the fire circle and found a quiet spot near Laurell's cabin.

Once out of earshot of the others, she spoke. "I think we
should get some things straight. You know, lay some ground
rules or something."

He had no idea of what she spoke, but he nodded.
"Ground rules," he repeated. The sweet scent of vanilla
drifted around them. He breathed it in with pleasure. Her
scent.

"First off, you don't make announcements about me or
the baby without talking to me first," she said. "We need to
work together, you know?"

"Yes. Work together," he agreed. Her plump lips were
stained deep red. They looked soft and supple. He remembered their taste, their smooth texture, and his pulse sped.

"I mean, if we're going to be parents to this kid, we have
to present a united front, right? We need to start that now,"
she told him, her jaw set with determination.

"We will start now. Of course." Axiom wondered what she
wore beneath the cloak. When she had joined the fire circle
earlier and had taken her seat, he had noted jean-wrapped
legs, but the black velvet cloak hid the rest of her body.

The memory of Laurell's naked curves amidst satin sheets
flashed through his mind. His groin tightened, and he shifted
his stance; the jeans he wore to please Laurell suddenly
seemed a bad idea.

"Axiom, are you even listening to me?"

He forced himself to focus. How easily this human body
becomes distracted by desire once it has tasted it. All day he had
thought of nothing but Laurell and their night together.

"I am listening."

Her lips pursed as though she did not believe him.

He touched her arm through the cloak. "How are you
feeling? You are well after last night?"

Her face flushed with more than the chill air. Even in
the limited lighting of the tiki torches that lined the walkway, he could make out her blush. He did not mention he
had attempted to visit her twice that day to determine her
well-being. He sensed she already knew this.

"I'm fine," she told him.

"You are not sore?" He had worried afterwards, in the light
of day, whether he might have hurt her in his excitement.

She turned away, hiding her face. "I'm okay. Really."

He frowned and took her chin in hand, tilting her face
to his. "Are you certain? I know the moment of conception
may have been uncomfortable."

She shrugged. "A little." She stepped back from his grasp.
"I'm no worse for the wear." She shivered and movement
under her cloak indicated she was rubbing her arms to ward
off a chill.

He shifted from one foot to the other and stuck his hands
in his pockets. He too was cold, something he did not experience in god form. It did not please him, this new sensation.

Not as copulating with Laurell pleased him. He cleared
his throat. Not just copulating. What was it the humans
called it? Making love? What had occurred between them
was something more than just a physical act.

"So ..." he hedged, struggling to make conversation. He
wanted to remain in her presence, but he could sense her
nervous energy. Her stance was stiff, half twisted away from him, as though she were poised to flee. "Did you enjoy our
evening together last night?" It was the first thing to pop
into his mind.

She jerked back toward him, brows lifted, startled. "Our
evening?"

"The sex. You enjoyed it?"

Her cheeks darkened again. "It was great, thanks for asking."

He detected a note of bemusement in her voice. "I
should not have asked this question?" They had been as intimate with each other as two humans could be, yet he
sensed her discomfort in talking about that intimacy.

"Let's just say I've never met anyone as forward as you.
There are certain rules you follow when dating. A guy asking, `Was it good for you?' is just so cheesy." Her lips lifted
in a half smile now.

Axiom sighed. "I do not understand all of these rules. I
merely wished to make sure my performance was satisfactory. I studied humans copulating, but it is a different matter to be engaged in such an act oneself."

Laurell's eyes widened, and she cocked her head to one
side. "You were a virgin before me?"

Axiom shrugged. "Of course."

"Gods don't have sex?" She stared at him, incredulous.
Why did she find this so hard to fathom?

"There is an energy exchange that can occur between
two gods. The pleasurable sensations are very similar to
what I experienced with you last night, but the mechanics
of the process are different."

"Wow. I just assumed you-" She stopped herself and
shook her head.

"You assumed what?" He stepped closer, enjoying their
discussion, inexplicable happiness filling him as her body
relaxed and she made no move to leave.

"It doesn't matter what I thought," Laurell said. "You
know what they say about assuming." She chuckled.

No. He did not. She was hopping from foot to foot now,
her teeth chattering. He slipped one arm around her waist
and pulled her to him, to his warmth. She did not struggle
to free herself, and this pleased him. Her head tilted, eyes
luminous in shadows cast by twisted tree branches above
them. Being so close to her made his chest tight. Her lips,
slightly parted, invited a kiss.

"I know you are not comfortable discussing our"-he
hesitated-"lovemaking, but I am happy you were pleased
with me. I was more than pleased with you."

Dark lashes flew upward. Did he detect a trembling in her
limbs? Her mouth drew him forward, his head descended,
but just before his lips touched hers, she stiffened and jerked
her head back.

"Axiom," she gasped, her voice breathy, anxious.

He blinked, bewildered. "Have I done something to upset you?"

She disentangled herself from his arms and put some space
between them. "No. I'm just tired," she said, then quickly retreated to her cabin.

Axiom watched until the door shut behind her and the
curtains were pulled tight. He tried to ignore the way her
speedy departure stung. Sex, he told himself. This body just
wants more of hers. But as he entered his own cabin and prepared for sleep, he knew he had told himself a lie.

The bird flapped its wings and sent dew flying. The night
was cold. It wanted to seek shelter in the trees and sleep,
but They would not allow this. The bird teetered on the
edge of a windowsill of one of the smaller buildings where
the people lived. It peered inside and saw the girl that They
made it follow, the one with the black hair, reading, while
next to her slept a blonde woman.

Keen eyes detected movement, and the bird's neck
twisted to see the raven that spoke to the black-haired
woman hobble to the cabin's front door. The raven tapped
its bill on the door and let out a rronk noise. The woman set
down her book and hurried to the door. She opened it and
the raven hopped inside. The woman smiled and touched
one finger to its head, stroking the feathers there.

Then she reached behind her, producing a piece of apple, and the raven took it in its bill before moving back out
the front door and edging toward some trees, likely to rest
for the night. Follow, They commanded. And knowing resistance would prove fruitless, it did.

Laurell tossed in her bed until the covers were a tangled
mess. Her lids flipped open to stare at the ceiling. The cabin
was pitch-black, save for a sliver of moonlight peeking between the curtain at the window. When she breathed in, she
smelled Axiom. It was as though his scent, that combination of musk and sandalwood, was trapped in her nostrils, refusing to fade after their interaction hours before.

He'd made it clear he wanted to have sex with her again.
But he called it making love at least once. She wondered if that
had been a slip of the tongue, or if he really understood
what the term meant. She'd been tempted. No doubt about
it. She wasn't even really sure why she'd turned him down.

Part of her delighted in the knowledge that, with or
without the yearning, he wanted her. The other part of her
was scared to death by how she'd felt lying in his arms after
their second round of lovemaking.

Laurell lifted her hand and trailed her finger over her
bottom lip, remembering how Axiom's mouth felt pressed
to hers. He'd said she pleased him sexually. A little smile
curved her lips. Here she'd been so worried about her appearance and lack of sexual experience, and he'd been a
virgin all along. Not that she'd have had any clue from the
way he touched her, the way he kissed, or how his body, fitting perfectly with her own, moved against her.

Laurell rolled to her side and pressed her thighs together
in an attempt to relieve the dull ache between them. Funny,
now that the yearning was gone, she sort of missed it. It
would have given her an excuse to climb out of bed and go to
Axiom.

Why do I need an excuse? Why can't I just relax and enjoy
myself with him? Because she wasn't a casual-sex kind of
girl. And she didn't want to be with Axiom for sex alone.
The yearning had made it impossible for her to refuse her
body's desires. Without it, whatever happened would be her
decision entirely.

Laurell let out a frustrated groan and forced her mind to
clear. She had to get some sleep. She found a comfortable
position, sank farther into the mattress, and drifted off.

Moments later, her feet stepped onto the now familiar crystalline ground of the Astral Plane. The sky was a brilliant indigo this time, and the air was heavy with the scent
of lilacs. Her mother's favorite flower. Flowers Laurell too
enjoyed, and missed once she moved from Wisconsin to
Florida; they didn't grow well in the hot climate.

"I'm glad you're here. We need to finish our last discussion."

Laurell whirled to see her mother standing behind her,
clad in her usual white flowing garb. She shook her head vehemently. "I don't think so, Mother. I told you they needed
to send a new Liaison. I meant it."

"Laurell, I get it. You're angry with me."

Laurell raised her brows. "You think?"

"We need to work through that. And I'm still hopeful we
will, but regardless, the Council needs to confirm the progress
of the Earth Balancer. You have conceived, have you not?"