Divine Liaisons (8 page)

Chapter 12

He's still with me when I open my eyes. My phone's ringing. He's dimmer with daylight backlighting my white curtains. Looking into his eyes, I watch him smile, get up off my bed, and walk out the bedroom, fading to nothing before he even makes the bathroom.

Sitting, I pick up my phone, sliding it to answer.

“Hello?”

“
Ohpitsa, where've you been?”

“
Ruth's funeral, and memorial.”

“
You had me worried.”

“
Sorry.” I wish you'd been with me, then yesterday wouldn't have happened.

“
You ready for me to come over?”

“
What time is it?”

“
Eight.”

“
Yeah, sure. Come on over. I'm just getting in the shower.”

“
Don't move! I'll be there in five.”

The phone disconnects, and I'm left laughing and putting it back on the nightstand.

Pushing myself off the bed, I go to the full length mirror on the wall, expecting to see a face of bruises. Halting, dancing like I have a spider creeping down my back, I yank his shirt off me, balling it and launching it at the corner. Asshole!

In front of the mirror, I lean in, inspecting my nose, face, wrists, upper arms. Not a scratch.

In a way I wish I hadn't healed so well, then Dustin could go and rearrange his face.

Oh well, I'd better brush my teeth and put coffee on, before he gets here.

While I'm filling the coffee maker, a new roar announces him outside my window. Looking out, my skin prickles with a rush. 'Bikes
and
four wheels'. No kidding.

He appeals to my hidden adrenaline junkie like a donut to a dieter.

Irresistible.

He's getting off a pitch black
Ninja ZZR1400, his wide shoulders in sensei black leather, black jeans hug his legs, looking long and lean in black boots.

Pulling the black helmet off his head, I notice another one linked on his arm.

Squeaaaaa!

Diving for the front door, I open it before he's got his gloves off to knock. Standing to the side, so the neighbors can't see me, his gaze skims over me just wearing lace shorts, his eyes darkening with lusty intensity.

“Where were you when I woke up?” he says sexily, stepping in and thumping the door closed. Dropping both helmets on the hall table, he scoops me up, wrapping my legs around him, squeezing me to him and sipping in a harsh kiss.

“
Hmmmm,” he growls deep, striding, somehow missing doors and walls, directly to my bedroom, dropping with me onto the bed, heading straight to a nipple; sanding it with his teeth.

“
I missed these long legs in my bed this mornin'.” He runs his hands up them, pulling my underwear away when they run back down. “Uhmm hmmm, that's a fine sight.”

Giggling, I'm so delighted he's here. So happy to have a whole day not worrying about Erik. Erra. Whatever.

“Hey, what's that look for?”

Standing, he unzips the jacket, dumping it on the floor, followed in two tugs with his shirt.

“Just happy to see ya, s'all.”

“
I'm happy to see you too, sugar.” He's in a hurry, and his words are competing with zips, two boots, and a pair of jeans.

Presenting himself in bright daylight, he falls next to me, pulling me onto him, all in one swift movement.

With one hand winding my hair around his fist, he fishes my face closer, starting the duel of hormones, lips, and skin.

“
C'mere, my body wants to tell yours a secret.”

Defiant, and daring, I unwind his hand and turn my back, going backwards cowgirl, just to change things up.

A low whistle through teeth compliments me.

Oh mama. This is hold onto your heart, fine. With my arms wrapped around him, the wind whizzing past us; I'm feeling it. That freedom he was talking about, this is it.

The sun is basking down, the view is gorgeous, and we have a full hour of road trip ahead of us. A man, a woman, leather, metal and two wheels; I was born for this. This is all you will ever need in this life, right here in this moment.

It's exhilarating, primal, and downright seductive.

Where the hell have I been all my life?

With the wild thrumming vibration of rubber on asphalt warming me, his strength beneath my hands and between my legs, my heart is pounding as if angels are touching it. I've never been this happy. I can't stop smiling.

We're heading all the way to Fredericksburg, to Enchanted Rock. I've never been.

Every day with him is new, an adventure, a thrill. And in a strange way, it's powerful. The bike is powerful, the man handling it like it's an extension of him, is powerful.

It makes me feel like I can do anything, anywhere, anytime; it's triumphant. Cars drop behind us as if they're standing still, people watch us buzz by, and the two wheeled hardcore steed feels like we're fleeing prison, and breaking the law.

Yes, he
is
going to break me out of my prison.

Hell yeah!

Resting my head on his broad back, his hand moves, covering mine and squeezing for a moment, somehow inflating his ribcage and pressing against me, loving me at 160mph.

It fills my lungs with leather, and his sunshine smell.

This is reckless freedom, and I'm done playing safe.

I'm not ready to stop when he slows us down as we approach the state park. I don't know what road we're on, and I don't care. The bike revs in aggressive bursts as he maneuvers it to the little house where you get drinks and pay.

Shutting the Ninja down in a parking bay, he pulls off his matt black doo; which reminds me of a Nighthawk stealth aircraft that goes undetected by radar. The imagery fits him.

He steadies me as I dismount, my legs surprisingly a little numb from the journey. Kicking the stand down, he's graceful when he gets off.

Handing me his skid lid, he puts those delicious fingers at the base of my back again, leaning down to speak in my ear, “I won't be long.”

I nod, looking at the doo in my hands. He called it that. Cos soldiers call their kevlar helmets, domes of obedience. d.o.o, for short. On the back is a marking, like a tattoo. It looks like a Celtic / Gothic spur. Three lines, slightly curved, joining at their thick bases, making a triangle.

He's being responsible, and I appreciate the effort; which is probably for my benefit.

Returning with long strides and intimidating sunglasses back on, he hands me a bag, and swings back onto the bike, looping the doo on the bars, he walks the bike out of the bay, and starts it up, waiting for me to join him.

Now I understand why he brought the bike. It'd be quite a hike from here if he didn't have the two wheels to navigate the dirt tracks and narrow paths.

When we reach our destination, he tugs his gloves off, taking my hand, and unzipping his jacket. His pecs are outlined by the tight black t-shirt he's wearing, and he gives me a strange look, looking down at me with my hiking boots on and the matching helmet to his in my hand.

“
You sure you can handle a steep footpath to the top?”

“
Yup,” I nod, putting my own shades on.

Leaning, stepping closer, he puts his nose in my neck, mouth below my ear, sucking it softly, then whispering, “You belong here.”

So far I've gleaned they have camping here too. And rock climbing. I can see him doing a Bear Grylls out here. I bet he comes here all the time.

Tucking my hand back in his, we start walking.

It's flat smooth rock. And to be honest, I don't know what all the fuss is about, aside from the view from the top, which is spectacular. Sitting together, he holds an arm lazily around my tented leg, slaking his thirst, looking at the panorama. I guess he likes rocks, and this is the biggest one I've ever seen.

“
I bet you're wonderin' why I brought you here?”

He shrugs out of his jacket, pushing his shades onto his hair, staring into my eyes.

“I am.”

“
There's a lot of history here. The modern world is stupid for one reason only. They push history into myth and legend folders. But this rock,” he thumps it with the heel of his boot, “Is Spirit Rock.”

“
Spirit rock?”

How can a rock be made of spirits?

“There's hundreds of tribal stories about this place.” He gazes back out into the netherworld, getting lost in a land I can't see, but he can feel.

“
Some folks say the Comanche held sacrifices here. The people believed this rock was a holy portal to other worlds, and spending the night here would make you invisible.” His mouth twists into sharp corners with his smile, “And if you come here with an evil heart, the climb will kill you.”

“
It's also called Spirit Rock, because many braves died here. The last stand of a tribe happened here. Their bloodline ended right here. But this is a great place for the Apache. God, who they call the Life Giver, sent Gan to teach the Apache skills. Hunting, leadership, and how to cure illness. Gan, is the name for mountain spirits. And it's because of this, more than any other reason, this rock is called Spirit Rock. This is where they come in, and leave. It's sacred ground.”

“
Wow. That's beautiful.”

“
The Comanche displaced the Apache. Their belief system was different. Not unlike the Olmec's, Comanche worshipped the sun as their Universal father. Leaving no room for the Gan in this place. But the Gan, they can't be captured or held. Like wind. They come and go as they please through the holy portal. You can see by the shape of this rock why the Comanche held their sacrifices here.”

The rock is a huge dome, half a sun.

It gives me a hard lump in my throat. “This is horrible.”

“
But they weren't foolish. They would sleep here, to get divine inspiration. The Gan are spirits. And divine inspiration and guidance is their calling. So even the Comanche had spiritual insight here.”

Now I'm getting the big picture.

“That's why you brought me here.”

His serious expressions melts into affection, “Who's yer daddy?”

Laughing, I lean in against his shoulder, loving it when he moves his arm, tucking me tight to him and resting his head on my hair.

“
This is you, ohpitsa. This is where you find your soul again. This is the spot for your vision quest, ask the Gan to find you and guide you home.”

“
What's this rock made of?”

“
Granite.”

Like him, solid hard granite. Like Erra's wings.

He continues, oblivious to my haunting thoughts. “Some people believed this rock was El Dorado. And gold
was
mined here, not far off.”

“
I've lived in Austin my whole life, and I never knew any of this.”

Lifting his head, tilting my chin, he whispers into the wind, “This is the place of secrets. It keeps them safe, waiting for you to come back and claim them.”

It touches my heart. And I have tears prickling.

“
What do you see that I just don't? Why do you think I need rescuing?”

“
It's in your eyes. You are Gan. You're meant to be free.”

Pulling me between his legs, he makes me lean back against him.

“Close your eyes, just sit here and breathe, it will bring you back to life.”

Just breathe. Erra jumps in again, yelling
breathe
.

But I do, I close my eyes, surrounded by my boulder of a boyfriend, breathing in the wind, leather, dust.

It's so easy to fall in love. One more step and I'll be there.

After ages of silence, sharing heartbeats and serenity, he says, “They had a bogeyman. Big Owl, also known as Owl man. But I think, of all the stories, you will like the story of the little girl without parents.”

Stiffening, “Why?”

“
It's touching. You have a deep spirit in you, eons old. You will like it.”

Smoothing my hair, sifting it through his fingers, his voice is intimate, speaking into my ear from behind me, like a guardian angel.

“In the beginning nothing existed, only darkness. From the darkness emerged a thin disc, suspended in midair. In it sat a small bearded man, Creator, the One Who Lives Above. Creator rubbed his hands together, thrusting them downward. A shining cloud appeared; sitting on it was a little girl.”

They believed god made woman first?

He murmurs the secret in my ear, “Stand up and tell me where are you going,” said Creator. But she stayed silent. He offered his right hand to the Girl-Without-Parents. “Where did you come from?” she asked, grasping his hand. “From the east where it is now light,” he said, stepping onto her cloud. Creator brushed his face with his hands, rubbed them together, then flung them wide open. Before them stood Sun-God. Again Creator rubbed his sweaty brow and from his hands dropped Small- Boy.”