FALL (The Senses) (16 page)

Delara
stirred the tomato sauce while Xamien added spice upon spice. Several times, he
dipped his finger into the pot and tasted it before adding more or grabbing
another spice. They discussed nothing more of their past conversation, almost
as if it had never existed.

“Mushrooms?”

“Yeah
sure,” Delara replied. She watched Xamien walk over to the fridge, tall, lean,
and casual. There was no tension in his muscles, no hidden anger, just easygoing
and...relaxed like he was at home. Okay, he was controlling and dominant, but
it was never with anger. He played hard and had expectations of the women he
slept with. In return, he knew exactly what the woman desired and he made
certain those desires were met.

She
realized that his emotions were seeping into her own and she found herself
enjoying the mundane task of cooking. He pulled out mushrooms, red peppers, an
onion, and zucchini.

“Nix on
the last?”

“Sure.”
He threw the zucchini back in the drawer.

He
washed the vegetables in the sink and she watched as his hands gently scrubbed
the surface of the skins, careful not to damage them, but with purpose. His
fingers were long and lean like the rest of him. There was a one-inch scar on
the back of his right hand. It had rubbed up against her breasts, been between
her legs. It was rare a Senses scarred when they had Healers. It was only when
the wounds were left to heal on their own that they left marks.

She
glanced down at her wrists, making certain her long-sleeved shirt covered her
own scars. The ones on her wrists were faint and only discernible to a Senses.
They were the first and the deepest. But Xamien had seen them, traced them with
his finger, even kissed them. She was no longer afraid or embarrassed with him,
but here…with her Talde she felt uncomfortable having her scars showing.

Xamien
was chopping like a professional and she leaned down and took out a frying pan
and placed a dab of butter in the bottom of it.

Xamien
brought the cutting board over beside the stove. “Thanks, Kitten.”

She was
going to tell him to stop calling her that while he was here, but then clamped
her mouth shut. Why ruin a good moment? He was behaving himself—a challenge for
him.

The
butter and vegetables hissed as they merged with the heat and Xamien quickly
tossed them around with the wooden spatula. The scents were delicious and she
found her mouth watering. She rarely cooked herself, except the odd scrambled
eggs or grilled cheese sandwich. This was kind of fun, like they were in Spain
again.

On the
island of St. Thomas, Kilter had cooked nearly every meal and, despite his rude
and offensive nature, he could cook a delicious dish.

Delara
missed these moments. The scents building all around as food cooked, Xamien at
her side, no conversation about anything important, just them. She had asked—
okay he made her beg—for him to teach her how to make a few dishes. They had
yet to get around to it. It was sporadic when she went to Spain. “How’s Glunk?”
The man was a genius in the kitchen.

Xamien
picked up a mushroom between his fingers and held it out to her. She hesitated,
then opened her mouth and he popped it in. “Ready?”

She
nodded.

He
pulled the frying pan off the burner then slid the vegetables into the pot.
“Glunk is complaining that I’m gone and he is left alone with two women.” He
put the pan in the sink then came back, leaning his back against the side of
the stove watching as she stirred the sauce. “The good thing about learning to
cook is that if it’s bad you can’t give in or you’ll starve.”

“Or you
can order in.”

He
swatted her butt. “Smart ass.”

She
smiled and then held up the spoon. Xamien leaned towards her and her heart
slammed into her chest at the closeness. The overwhelming urge to touch his
skin, feel his heart beneath her palm or run her fingers through his dark wavy
hair—it was there, but different.

Her hand
trembled and Xamien reached out to steady it as he slipped the spoon into his
mouth. Her skin burned from his gentle touch and she pictured him throwing her
up on the counter and having her right there.

“Careful.
I may just do that and screw your rules.” He let go and licked his lips.
“Perfecto. Another two minutes.”

He
plopped the capellini into the pot of bowling salted water. She couldn’t stop
herself from watching his movements, so easy and gentle like a feather. He
touched her body like that when she’d first come to him. He’d been tender and
patient with his soft caresses tantalizing her skin. His tongue swept over
her...

His eyes
darted to hers and all movement stilled. Damn, what had she been thinking?
Something she shouldn’t be. Not here. Waleron could Trace here at any moment.
She’d made her rules; Xamien and her were an occasional fling in Spain. Not on
her turf.

The
water began boiling over and Xamien swore under his breath, then quickly pulled
the pot from the stove and took it over to the strainer sitting in the sink.
Delara kept her eyes forward, afraid to look at him and raise the emotions
again.

She felt
his chest up against her back and dropped the spoon into the sauce as his
breath touched the nape of her neck.

He
reached around her with one hand grabbing the handle of the pot. “I’ll carry
it.”

Delara
quickly slipped from his closeness
. “Tease.”

“You
know it.”
He poured the
sauce into a large bowl then carried it over to the table where he already had
the pasta and two glasses of red wine. He flicked his hand and the white candle
in the middle of the table lit and the lights in the room dimmed.

It was
too romantic. She didn’t like it. Not here. “I like to see what I’m eating.”
She went and turned the dimmer up.

“Not all
the time, you don’t.”

Delara’s
step faltered on her way back to the table. The only man she’d ever felt a
stronger attraction too was Waleron. Wraith Edan had raised her libido, but
never with a mere look, and Liam had been pure self-punishment and, okay, she’d
tried to torture Waleron by sleeping with the vamp. That had turned into a big
mistake.

“Let’s
eat before I change my mind and break all your rules, boundaries, and whatever
else and take you upstairs.” He scooped up the pasta with his fork and twirled
it around. “And I’ll have you know, we’re not staying like this. You’re either
coming to Spain or I’m fucking you here. I’m giving you tonight to decide.
That’s as long as I can take.”

Chapter
4

Tarek has Risen

Despite
the deadbolt on the bedroom door, her scenting abilities, the presence of
several Senses, and Xamien in the house, Delara was still unable to sleep.

Waleron
had called her after dinner to inform her the Wraiths had risen Tarek from
Rest. Everyone was on alert and Waleron advised she be ready to leave for Spain
in the morning. He hung the phone up on her, mid-objection.

She
paced the length of her room like a tiger in the zoo threatened by onlookers.
Her hand constantly strayed to her knife at her waist, making certain it was
still there, while her body shook and trembled, exhausted from the constant
vigilance of alertness.

Could
she kill Tarek? She’d destroyed countless enemies, but Tarek was different. She
had maited him. She knew she would never love him like Waleron, but Tarek had
cared for her in the beginning. But remembering what Tarek had eventually done
to her was enough to make her feel nauseated. The constant fear of upsetting
him, keeping quiet and unnoticed as much as possible. Then there were his
threats, the way his voice grew deeper and condescending as if he were punishing
a child. That voice scared her. 

It was
one in the morning. Her hands had run through her hair a zillion times and her
outer thighs were bruised from the habit of pinching her flesh when she was
disconcerted, which was often of late.

“You
awake, Kitten?”

A smile
tugged at the corner of her lips that bore teeth marks, more proof of her anxiety.
The deep baritone of Xamien’s voice in her head was comforting and warm, like a
favorite blanket wrapping around her on a cold winter night. A trust had grown
between them, something she’d suspected came from the mindweaving he’d done
with her.

“If I
wasn’t I would be now.”
She
sat on the edge of the queen-sized bed. The mattress sagged a small amount
under her weight and she wondered how much it would dip under Xamien’s muscled
frame. His tanned skin would certainly contrast against the stark white sheets
and bring out the brilliance in his deep, almost obsidian eyes. God, stop.
Having him here was such a bad idea. If Waleron only knew that he’d delivered
her secret fling right into his own territory. What is she thinking? He
probably wouldn’t care.

“Waleron
has Damien and Ryker out at your old house watching if Tarek will go back
there. Jedrik and Balen are watching the gallery and Galen went to England to
keep an eye on the old buddies of Tarek’s.
It’s all covered Kitten. Besides, if he was going to
attack, it won’t be tonight. He is more than likely weak from Rest.”

And it’s
the perfect time for her to go after him. But she couldn’t. None of them could.
If Tarek didn’t make any threats or try and harm her or anyone else, they
couldn’t touch him. It would be against the laws. He’d done his time.

She slid
her naked legs beneath the sheet smelling the lavender waft into the air at the
movement of the crisp cotton. Curling up on her side with the pillow tucked
beneath her cheek, Delara closed her eyes.
“Thanks Xamien,”
she thought
it and whispered it aloud with a slight hoarseness to her voice.

“You’re
welcome.”

She felt
the moment his gentle aura left her and she instantly reached out to him again,
finding his mind and latching onto the soothing calmness.
“Don’t leave me
yet.”
Was she crazy asking him to stay with her? Mind to mind was intimate
and revealing and she was trying to keep that to a minimum here.
“Where are
you?”

“Outside.
Standing on the balcony.”

“But
it’s cold.”
She pictured
him leaning on the railing, his hair blowing in the wind, tickling his skin.
Arms relaxed, shoulders broad like a wall daring any to get past him without
his permission. And that mouth, she thought sighing. Yes, he had the second
most luscious mouth that made her insides flutter.

Xamien’s
voice held a wondrous cadence.
“Yes. But refreshing. I needed to clear my
head and a dose of cold air will do that.”

“Is
something wrong?”
As soon
as the words left her mouth, she realized why he was outside.
“Never mind, I
know why.”

“No
more arguing with Waleron, Kitten. We need to leave for Spain tomorrow. I can’t
stay here. It’s driving me crazy to have you so near and being unable to touch
you.”

Silence.

Her cell
rang and she leaned over to look at the flashing screen. The instant she saw
his name, the familiar ache in her lower abdomen began, then the anxiety, the
trembling. She never knew what to expect from him. When he would kiss her or
touch her or move across the room with that confident stride—she melted. But it
scared her when he’d smashed his fist into the metal frame that night when he’d
found out about their child. Her fears always came and slept with her. She
wasn’t certain she could handle Waleron right now.

“I
can hear the phone from here. Are you going to answer it?”

“No,”
she admitted.
God, she wanted to
hear his voice, talk to him, but all she ever got was this cold man she barely
recognized.
She wiped a stray
tear escaping her right eye before it slid down her cheek to soak into her
pillow. She was persistently worrying about Waleron and it was eating away at
her like an army of red ants.

The
phone started ringing again.

“It’s
him, isn’t it?”

She
nodded then realized he couldn’t see her.
“Yes.”

“Answer
it, Kitten. Before he comes over here. You know he’ll be freaking out now that
Tarek is free.”

“Yeah.”
And she would become a
prisoner to Waleron’s demands.

She
picked up the phone.

“Where
are you?”

“In bed.
Where else?” She kept her tone short, trying to avoid any further pain by
acting nonchalant while inside she was a tornado of emotions. She hated him for
being so cold and treating her with disdain. But when she heard his husky voice
or felt his touch, she hated herself for falling prey to it. She hated her body
wrapping around him and devouring every morsel he left her with. And they were
scrapes. He never gave more than that.