Cries of Penance (18 page)

Two hours later we are back at the condo, staring at the vast amount of product we bought piled everywhere. “Now what?”

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Master looks at his watch. “It’s after one, we real y should be at the club.”

I shake my head, silently begging him to not go.

“We don’t have to go tonight. I can cal George and ask him to cover if that would make you happy.”

I nod, relieved and realize I’m exhausted. It seems like I’ve been awake days instead of hours. “Can we take a nap?”

He waggles his eyebrows. “I might let you sleep.”

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“In the depths of winter I final y learned there was in me an invincible summer.”

Albert Camus

I am shaken awake by Master. I blink blearily. “What time is it?”

“Ten.”

Ten? In the morning? I sit up, rubbing my eyes. “My alarm didn’t go off. They expected me at the office an hour ago.”

“I turned off your alarm so you could sleep wel for once, and I left a message at your office that you wouldn’t be in today.”

I distinctly remember it being close to five when Master gave me permission to fal asleep. I blink at him and scratch my head. Not understanding, I lay back down, mumbling, “I don’t think you should have cal ed my office.”

I’m too tired to argue. Al I want to do is to go back to sleep.

Master sits down on the mattress beside me and rubs my back. “Kitten, sweetheart. I need you to wake up and get dressed.”

By his tone I feel like something is wrong, and a rush of adrenaline makes me immediately alert. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Thomas is home.”

My heart leaps into my throat. Happiness races through me. Throwing off the covers, I hurry out of bed and would rush from the room if Master didn’t grab my elbow to hold me back, but he does. “Get dressed first. His children are with him.”

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“God. His kids?” Kiddie Kibble. Diapers. Formula. Bot les. Juice. It al makes sense now. My heart sinks, remembering the news footage of their mother being kidnapped. “My God, those poor kids.”

Master leaves me alone in the bedroom and I dress as quickly as I can, black yoga pants and a lime green tank top that molds around my stomach. It’s what I had laid out to wear to my Primal Birth class…when? Last night? Did Master cal Jackie? God, I hope he cal ed Jackie so she wasn’t worried. “Shit.”

I hurry out, slowing when I hear giggles coming from the kitchen. Giggles?

Catching sight of Master pouring milk into a bowl sat in front of a beautiful little girl with waist-length curls and huge brown eyes, I stop stark stil . “Uncle Gar?

How do you always know our favorites? Strawberry-banana, yum-yum.”

“Chocolate Chip!” shouts a smal boy seated at her right.

Master ruffles his hair. “When did you grow so big, Nikkos?”

The boy smiles at him, and I clutch my chest. His hair is shoulder-length and very curly. He has the same wide eyes as Olympia. Their mother’s eyes, but the boy’s smile is pure Lord Fyre. “God.”

The sons in my bel y choose to start a kicking match in my stomach. I push against a spot that is growing increasingly sore. Darker hands slide around me from behind, rubbing over the wiggling mound that is our babies. I close my eyes and lean my head back against his chest. “Thomas.”

Leaning around me, he kisses me and I kiss him back, but then I remember his children and I pul away, explaining, “They might see.”

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“My wife’s people are Muslim, my children’s uncles have many wives. They wil think nothing of my marriage to you. They wil honor you as their other mother.”

My marriage to you. My heart skips a beat, and I am left speechless and blinking like an owl. I don’t know what to think or say.

“I just feel wrong. God, Thomas, is there any news of Latisha?”

His eyes narrow slightly before he looks away from me.

“Thomas?”

He crosses the room to look through the wide windows at the skyline.

I fol ow him, not wanting him to think that I don’t want him. Never that. I want him desperately. “I’ve missed you. I’m so glad you’re home.”

He meets my gaze and opens his arms to me. I hug him tightly, not ever wanting to let go. Now is not the time to argue or to even consider the questions swirling through my mind. Soon enough there wil be time to worry about how Latisha and the children fit into our lives.

I hear Garrett’s voice and a response of giggles coming from the kitchen as Thomas leads me out of the living room and back to the bedroom. I’m not prepared for this, not at al . My heart races, and I don’t know how to tel Thomas that I just can’t do this. Not here. Not now.

When he closes the door between us and them, I feel no better about the situation.

He hugs my face in his palms and looks at me. I have never been looked at so closely, and his scrutiny makes me blush.

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“You are so beautiful. I just want to make sure the image I held in my mind these last months has been truth.”

I smile, but the tightness in my shoulders doesn’t lessen.

“Have I lost you completely then?”

I jerk. “What? No!”

“Good. I was worried.” He kisses my eyelids, the tip of my nose, my lips.

Against my mouth he whispers, “I have missed you.”

He slides his hands down my throat, tightening around my neck gently. I hold his gaze, I don’t flinch or move. I trust him, breathing in, out, waiting for him to cut off my air completely—because he can, because I’d let him—only he doesn’t. He slides his hands over my shoulders, down my arms. Bending, he kisses my bel y, dropping to his knees. Cupping my buttocks, he pul s me into him. He presses his face into me, holding me tight. I realize after only a moment that he is crying. I don’t move. I just breathe, in, out, while he sobs into me, my stomach, our babies, muffling any sound. I imagine him screaming, even though I can’t hear it.

I’ve been here—this broken. God, oh God, comfort him.

I don’t cry. I don’t let myself. I wait for him to stand. I wait for him to hold me again. I wait for him to al ow me to comfort him, and then decide to just comfort him. I run my hands through his hair, pul ing him closer, hugging his face into my stomach tighter.

I kiss the top of his head, molding around him, fal ing to the ground with him.

He rol s with me, dragging me on top of him. Straddling him, my heart breaks for him as I kiss away his tears. I kiss his mouth. I kiss my way down his t-shirt covered chest.

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Holding his gaze, I kiss his belt buckle before I unlatch it. I pul loose his belt, unbutton and unzip his jeans. I keep looking into eyes as his erection springs free and fil s my mouth. Sliding my mouth up and down his length, I don’t think about anything but his pleasure. I know exactly what he likes, how much pressure to apply with my lips and teeth. I know when to lick, when to bite, when to circle, when to plunge his length as deep as I can take it into my throat.

He grabs my face and pul s me up until I am kissing his mouth. He holds my face while I shimmy my slacks down over my hips. As soon as I am bared enough I lower myself onto his hard shaft. I ride him, gritting my teeth because my clit is over sensitized from the earlier pumping. I close my eyes, embracing the pain, eating it up, and pushing down hard against Thomas, feeding it back to him.

“Oh God,” I cry out as pleasure punches through my discomfort.

Thomas brushes away tears that have fal en onto my cheeks. Tears, which have nothing to do with my clit, and everything to do with the pain I see etched on Thomas’s face. I slow my pace, riding him gently.

He says, “Talk to me.”

“I love you.”

“I love you. I need to know that I am coming home to you as your husband.”

My heart skips a beat and then another before I press my lips to his, promising, “You are already my husband.” Quoting the Book of Mark, I whisper,

“And they twain shal be one flesh. So they are no more twain, but one flesh.”

A look of sadness crosses his face that I don’t understand, but then he says,

“I have to leave for Sudan immediately,” and I understand completely.

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I gasp. “No! Please, no! Stay here. Let the Marines rescue your wife or the senator’s people.”

He holds my face. “You are my wife now. Al that I own is yours.”

I pant, verging on hysteria as his meaning dawns clearer and clearer. He doesn’t know if he wil be coming back alive. I try to pul away but he holds my hips tight, forcing me to keep riding him. I know my pleas are pointless. If it were he or Garrett, I would go. I would do everything I could to rescue them. Latisha is his wife and the mother of four of his children. He loves her. He has to go.

Col apsing over him, sobbing, I hold him as tight as I can for as long as I can.

God! Oh God, bring him home safely.

“I want you to raise my children. With love. With God. Al of my children.”

I sob harder against his chest, and he lets me cry until there are no more tears left. An hour passes, maybe two, I don’t know what Garrett did to entertain the children so long, but I appreciate the fact he did, al owing me this time with Thomas.

We dress in silence. My heart is breaking, but there isn’t anything I can say or do to keep him from leaving us again. This is our relationship and as much as I hate the fact of it, I want him to return to us, even if it is just to tel us goodbye, again and again and again.

* * * *

He spent most of the day reinforcing the bond he once shared with the children.

When Thomas takes his children back to the guest room, we both tense, knowing 170

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the time is near. I’m worried about having the children left in our care and ask him, “Do the children know their grandfather is dead?”

“No.”

“Do you think they wonder why their mother didn’t come with them?”

Reentering the room, Thomas answers, “Their mother is stil in Sudan. That is the truth, and that is what they believe.”

“They’re going to ask questions, Thomas.”

“I know that.”

“What are we supposed to tel them?”

“Nothing.” He joins us, sitting on the edge of a sofa opposite us. “Until there is something to tel them, I don’t want them upset.”

“Thomas. They are children not idiots. You need to tel them something before you go away.”

“What would you have me say to them, Sophia? That their grandfather was shot between the eyes and half his skul blown off? That their mother was kidnapped and wil likely be tortured and raped before she is kil ed?”

“God. No!”

Going to Thomas, Master presses his fingers to Thomas’s mouth. “Sh-sh-shh.

We’l take care of the children. Go find Lattie and come home to us safely.”

I wrap myself in my arms, hugging myself, trying to not scream. I can’t believe any of this is happening. When is enough enough? You would think I’d be numb to it al by now, but I’m not…and I completely understand that he has to try to rescue his wife.

No! I don’t.

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“Don’t go,” I beg again, arguing. “This is why we have a military, right? Send in the fucking Marines.”

I race to him, throwing my arms around him, begging, “Don’t go.”

He kisses the top of my head. “I have to. She’s the mother of my children.”

I want to remind him that this woman left him and took his children away from him. God! God damn! I know he has to save his fucking wife. I know. He wouldn’t be the man I love if he wasn’t that guy.

Master stands and my heart catches, knowing it is time to say goodbye.

“Papa?” We al look toward Hektor. He is pale and obviously shaken by what he has just heard. None of us realized he was sitting hidden behind the sofa until he stood.

God, oh God. I believe the child heard every word, and my heart breaks for him as tears wel in his eyes but do not fal . He walks slowly to his father.

Thomas hasn’t moved. It is like he is frozen in place until his son reaches him.

Only then does he squat so that he is eye level with his son.

Hektor puts his hands on his father’s shoulders. “You are strong, Papa.”

“Like Superman,” Thomas assures him, the words catching in his throat, and it seems the assurance is one he has given the child many times before. Hektor smiles, but a tear slides down his cheek. Thomas catches the tear with his thumb.

“Have the men who have my mother sent proof-of-life?”

I gasp, wondering how a child so young can understand such things, but even as my brain questions it I realize he has had a life much different than the children I have ever known.

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“Not yet,” Thomas whispers.

I turn into Master’s arms, and he pul s me against him. Forcing myself to not lose it, I tremble against him and am barely comforted when he kisses me on top of my head. I can’t take my eyes off the boy. He looks crestfal en.

“Find the men who did these things. Kil them, Papa.”

Thomas presses his forehead to his son’s. “I wil avenge your grandfather.”

Hektor kisses him. “Thank you.”

Thomas takes his hand and leads him back toward the bedroom. We can hear him speaking softly as they walk. “I need you to be strong for your brother and sisters. I need you to be a good boy for Uncle Gar and Aunt Celia while I’m away.”

Aunt Celia. Oh , fuck. I’ve never been an aunt. I’ve never taken care of children .

Garrett joins me on the sofa, and I reach for his hand. I realize only when he stretches his fingers that I am squeezing his hand so hard that I’m hurting both of us. “Sorry.”

“Sh-h. Are you okay?”

“I’m an aunt?”