Defeat the Darkness (32 page)

Then his tongue, velvet smooth and soft, tasted her. He growled with pleasure, the slight vibration causing her inner muscles to contract as her body prepared for what was to come. He shifted slightly, freeing up one hand as he eased first one finger and then a second deep inside her.

“Hunter!”

“Like that, do you?” He worked his fingers in a slow rhythm.

“Faster,” she whispered as she thrust up against his hand.

“I thought we'd take our time this morning.” He maintained the same pace but used his tongue in counterpoint. “How's that?”

She couldn't lie. “Not enough,” she rasped.

He immediately increased the pressure with his tongue and the speed of his wicked fingers. “Come for me, Tate!”

Pleasure exploded through her body, starting deep inside her core and spreading outward. Hunter left her shuddering with the aftershocks while he opened another condom. Then he was back, spreading her legs wide as he positioned himself at her body's entrance.

Digging her heels into the mattress, she waited for that first powerful thrust when he'd claim her. For all his
promise to go slow, once her body adjusted to the abrupt invasion, he didn't hold back at all. She reached over her head to hold the bottom edge of the headboard as he drove into her.

She chanted his name as he withdrew and plunged and withdrew again, the sensation blocking out everything else. Her entire existence narrowed to just the two of them straining to become one, their bodies blending, fitting together with such perfection that it brought tears to her eyes.

Then he rolled to the side onto his back. She rose up over him and began rocking, loving the control he'd ceded to her. He used one hand to capture her breast, teasing her nipple into a sharp point. At the same time, he slipped one finger between where their bodies were joined, putting pressure on just the right spot.

She slowed down, loving the way he made sure that his pleasure was hers as well. As much as she wanted it to last forever, the pressure was building and building. Her body bucked against his, riding them both hard until Hunter suddenly arched up with a loud holler as he grabbed her hips with both hands and held her immobile. His shuddering release deep inside of her triggered her own, until they were both lost in a maelstrom of lightning and thunder.

She closed her eyes against the swirling chaos and collapsed against his sleekly muscled chest, holding on for dear life. His arms cradled her gently and stroked the length of her back. She wasn't sure, but she thought he kissed the top of her head.

“Are you all right?”

She smoothed her hand up his arm. “Far better than merely all right. I'm not sure there are words for how good I feel.”

He chuckled. “Maybe we need to make some up. How about wonderistic?”

“Or splendorific?”

“Yeah, that works. I just wish—” He stopped midsentence, a frown erasing his good mood. Then his body stiffened, and not in a good way.

“Somebody is at the door.” He lifted her off to his side. “Let me get cleaned up and dressed so I can distract them.”

“I'd rather ignore them.” Even though she knew that wouldn't work.

“So would I, but it's probably D.J. and the guys. We have business to attend to.” Although neither of them had moved an inch, suddenly there was a yawning gap between them.

She reached up to brush his hair back from his face. “Business that doesn't include me.”

His arms tightened around her. “Tate, we both know it has to be that way. I won't risk your getting hurt because of me and the world I live in.”

The world that would someday destroy him, but now wasn't the time to throw that in his face. She'd promised not to ask for more than he could give, and she wouldn't betray his trust. But already the pain was settling back in her chest, knowing he was so close to disappearing from her life.

But with a smile and a hug, she'd send her warrior lover off to face his battles, just as women had been
doing for millennia. That didn't mean she wouldn't weep for them both when she was alone. And she would be alone for a long time.

This time she heard the knock at the door downstairs, an impatient demand that she be up and moving. Knowing further delay would only prolong the inevitable, she threw back the covers and trudged into the bathroom.

Hunter remained motionless as Tate left the bed and walked away, taking his heart with her and leaving only darkness behind. Despite the bright sunshine streaming in through the window, the day promised to be the first in an endless parade of dark ones for him.

He hoped like hell that Tate wasn't hurting as much as he was, but he knew she was. Why else had she cranked up the radio in the shower so loud? Despite her efforts to hide her tears, his sharp Paladin hearing made it all too clear. His first instinct was to go to her, to offer what comfort he could. But it would change nothing. The sooner he got out of Tate's life, the sooner she'd get over him and vice versa.

Yeah, right, like that was going to happen anytime soon. Back when he'd regained consciousness to find himself strapped down to Doc's stainless steel table after being sliced and diced, he'd known it was going to be a long, hard crawl back to normal. One step at a time. One day at a time. But this particular pain was going to be a bitch to deal with, because he wasn't the only one hurting.

The banging downstairs was getting louder. Whoever was pounding on the door was going to make a handy target for Hunter's temper. He yanked on his jeans and yesterday's shirt and stomped down the stairs ready to start swinging. Halfway down, it occurred to him that it might be Mabel or one of her sisters looking for him. After all, he hadn't gone home last night.

Time to calm down. No matter who was at the door, they weren't responsible for Hunter's foul mood. If it was one of the Auntie Ms, he'd reassure them that both he and Tate were fine. If it was a stranger, he'd offer tea and scones to keep them occupied until Tate came downstairs. But if it was one of his friends, well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

He turned on the overhead lights in the shop. One glance out the door made it clear that the impatient customer was a stranger to him. Hunter flipped the sign to Open and unlocked the door. A man, perhaps in his late fifties, turned his temper on Hunter.

“It's about time. The sign clearly says the tea shop opens at nine. It's almost ten.”

For Tate's sake, Hunter bit back the urge to tell the jerk to fuck off, offering instead a cool, “Can I help you?”

“Where's Jacob Justice? And who are you?” the man snapped as he pushed past Hunter into the shop. “I've been coming here to play chess with him for years, and I've never seen you before.”

“I'm new.” Hunter walked back to the counter, needing to put something solid between himself and the irritating customer. Obviously this guy hadn't heard about the former owner's death. It didn't feel right that Hunter
should be the one to break the news, especially if this guy was indeed an old friend of Tate's late uncle. He could at least make some effort to make the older man feel welcome.

“Would you like some tea?”

Judging from the man's reaction, Hunter suspected his smile hadn't come across as particularly friendly. Too bad. At least he'd tried.

“I'll have Earl Grey, and make sure you heat the teapot first.”

“Don't worry. I know how to make tea.” The man's autocratic demeanor was making it even harder for Hunter to remain civil.

“I should hope so, considering it's your job.”

The man sat at the table in the far corner, out of sight of both the door and the windows. Something about the man's behavior was off, although Hunter couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

He'd planned on being gone before Tate came down, but he hated to leave her alone with this jerk. Maybe he'd check in with D.J., and then come back to keep an eye on the situation until the man moved on. To hurry it along, he carried the tea over to the man's table.

“Will there be anything else?” He deliberately crowded close to the table, forcing the man to lean back to meet Hunter's gaze.

Even so, the man took his own sweet time pulling his attention away from his newspaper. “Any business I have left with Mr. Justice is for his ears only. And don't think I won't mention the surly nature of his hired help.”

Tate was coming. Time to get moving.

• • •

The bell above the shop door jingled just as Tate's foot hit the bottom step. She didn't need a crystal ball to know that Hunter had just made his escape. Pasting a bright smile on her face took some effort, but she didn't want to scare away innocent customers by greeting them with tears streaming down her face.

“Good morning. . . ,” she started to say before she recognized the solitary man tucked away in the darkest corner of the shop. “Oh, Mr. Kincade, how nice to see you again. It has been a long time.”

Well, that was a lie. Not about the time that had lapsed since she'd seen this particular man, but that it was nice to see him again. Unlike her, Uncle Jacob had been blessed with the patience of a saint. All she could remember was how hard her uncle had worked to please Mr. Kincade. The tea was always too hot, too cold, too weak, too strong. The bed in his room was too hard or too soft. Everything was always
too
something.

But Kincade had been one of the few who'd been her uncle's equal at chess, so Jacob had tolerated his occasional stay. They'd spent hours huddled over the chessboard, each game hard-fought. She crossed her fingers that Kincade had stopped by for tea and nothing more.

“Ms. Justice, I see you're back for another visit with your uncle. I hope you don't mind if I steal away some of Jacob's time to play chess.” His smile looked a bit forced as usual.

Oh, no, he hadn't heard. She'd had to break the news
to a number of old customers, and it never got any easier. As raw as her own emotions were right now, the last thing she wanted to do was think about the other important man in her life she'd lost.

“Mr. Kincade, I'm sorry to have to tell you that my uncle passed away a few months ago. He left me the house and tea shop, so I live here now.”

Kincade set his cup down hard, his eyes wide with shock. “I am so sorry, Ms. Justice… Tate. Jacob was a good man, and I know he meant the world to you.” The sincerity in his voice didn't quite warm up his eyes. “The world has lost a great chess player. I will miss him.”

“We all do, Mr. Kincade. I know he always looked forward to playing you.”

“That's sweet of you to say.” He looked around the tea shop as if really looking at it for the first time. “I can see that you've made a few changes.”

“Not many, except that I've made the tea shop my main focus.”

“Does that mean you've closed the bed-and-breakfast? I was hoping that my usual room would be available just for tonight. I know that I should've called ahead, but your uncle always accommodated my erratic schedule.”

The last thing she needed right now was an unexpected guest. On second thought, maybe it was. Anything to keep her hands busy and her mind occupied.

“I usually don't rent out rooms anymore, but I guess I can make an exception for an old customer.”

“If you're sure it wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience, I would really appreciate it. My business
associate is supposed to meet me here sometime late tomorrow, and I have no way of reaching him.”

That was weird. “You can't call him?”

Kincade shook his head. “I'm afraid that would be difficult if not impossible. He'll be traveling a long distance to get here and is out of cell phone range, at least until he crosses the border. I suppose I could take a cab back to town and return in the morning to meet him here.”

She forced a smile. “Since it's just one night, I'll be glad to have you stay. Let me refresh your tea. After I get things organized down here, I'll prepare your room.”

“I appreciate this, Ms. Justice.” He went back to his newspaper.

She poured him another pot of tea before disappearing behind the counter. It had been a few days since she'd last worked on her novel, although she'd been mulling over the plot in odd moments. So far, the end of the story remained shrouded in shadow.

Her heroine was definitely in love with the outlaw but had serious doubts about his suitability as a potential husband. The sheriff would be a good man to spend her life with—reliable and unlikely to end up behind bars or dancing at the end of a rope. On the other hand, she knew the longer the gunslinger hung around, the more likely he was to meet a bad end.

Decisions, decisions, decisions.

But in her heart, Tate knew that she and the heroine had both made their choice. Hunter wasn't an outlaw or a gunslinger, but he was a warrior fighting on a frontier that few people even knew existed. The gunslinger was just as
much a product of his time as the sheriff, and the heroine knew in her gut that he would die to protect her. The real question was if he was willing to do whatever it took to live for her. Why was that so much harder for the hero to do than dying? Tate's heart ached for her fictional counterpart.

Hunter was the same. Despite how outlandish it sounded, she believed that he'd already given his life over and over again to keep humanity safe from the perils of another world. He'd definitely died down on the bluff to keep the evil from reaching Tate. Even now, he was with his friends making plans to continue their mission, regardless of the price they had to pay.

The cold, brutal truth was that Hunter was a Paladin warrior, and that would never change. It wasn't in him to walk away from his duty. But did that mean he couldn't have any joy in his life? Would it make his life better or worse to know that someone was waiting for him with open arms at the end of the day?

Could she convince him to take a chance on their love? Should she even try?