FALL (The Senses) (15 page)

“Pez,
don’t.” Delara shoved Waleron’s hands off her shoulders and stepped out of his reach.

Xamien
watched as Waleron’s body tensed, his hands curling into fists. Xamien saw
movement on the side of his neck. The Scar. The black ink swirled and its eyes were
deep blood red; the snake Scar circled up to Waleron’s ear then down again.

Xamien
guessed rumor was true after all. Waleron did have a Scar that moved without
being ordered. The question was what can the Scar do? He’d ask Waleron, but
Xamien doubted the Taldeburu would be the sharing type.

Yes,
best keep his sexual escapades with Delara under wraps while he was here.

“This
situation is not staying like this, Delara,” Waleron warned. “I changed my
mind. It is too dangerous here. Xamien will take you to Spain. This is
non-negotiable.”

She spun
around, her arms crossed as if a barricade against him. “Changed your mind?
Bullshit. You pacified me by agreeing to let me stay here and now that I’m back
you’re sending me to Spain. Just like you planned from the beginning. You
lied.”

“Yes.
You said you’d run, I couldn’t take that chance.”

“Tarek
is my responsibility. I’m not afraid of him and I want to face him.”

Xamien
easily heard the lie in her tone. He wondered if Waleron did as well or if
Waleron was so blinded by her that he couldn’t. Xamien was more than curious as
to why she lied to the man she loved so much—at least loved so much at one
time.

“Maitagarri,
you are making this more difficult than it has to be. Try to understand.”
Waleron stepped close to her again and she turned her back to him. He wrapped
his arms around her midsection and pulled her back against him. Xamien couldn’t
hear what was said, but Waleron whispered something in her ear then trailed a
light speckle of kisses along the junction of her neck and shoulder. Delara
remained frozen, not reacting externally to his advances, almost as if she was
fighting him without moving her limbs. Waleron must have noticed too, because
he sighed then let her go. Delara couldn’t have seen it, but Xamien did—the uncertainty
as Waleron raised his hand as if to stroke the back of her head then lowering
it again, his fingers curling to make a fist at his side.

Damn.
Xamien hadn’t realized
this
…while Delara and Waleron may not be
together, it was obvious that there was more to them than he knew or even
suspected. And Xamien had stepped right in the middle of it. Jesus, since he’d
never seen them together, he hadn’t known. But it was clear that despite
Waleron refusing to take Delara as his own, the Taldeburu still wanted her. But
it was too late for Xamien to go back. He couldn’t. Delara had become important
to him over the last three years. They had built a trust and he cared about
her.

“Xamien
will take you to Spain. No argument.” Waleron’s head bowed and without another
word, he Traced from the room.

It took
Delara two seconds to reach him with her hands on her hips and eyes blazing.
She looked like a peacock with its feathers ruffled. The thought, unfortunately,
put a grin on his face and caused her to scrunch her nose up further.

“Eavesdropping?”
Before he could defend, or more than likely not bother, she continued, “Why
didn’t you say something? You said you’d tell him.”

Xamien
raised both hands in the air as if to ward of any further assault. “I did,
Kitten. He refused.” The conversation had been simple—Xamien called Waleron and
volunteered to stay and help protect Delara and to hunt Tarek in order for her
to remain safe. Waleron’s answer was no and he hung up on him. Xamien seriously
was beginning to not like the guy.

Her eyes
narrowed. “Well you’re a Taldeburu, Trace to the Realm and tell the Wraiths.”

“A bit
dramatic, don’t you think? Besides, it’s his decision,” Xamien replied. “You’re
part of his Talde, not mine. I can offer suggestions, but nothing more.
Ultimately, you should listen to him.”

“He
doesn’t own me.” Her hair was up in a wide clip with a few tendrils wet and
hanging down the back of her black V-neck shirt. Her feet were bare and there
were still droplets of water clinging to her skin. Sexy. And off limits while
he was here.

He
casually leaned up against the wall, crossing his arms. “We could be spending
our time better than this, Kitten. If you come to Spain, I promise to make you
scream at least three times a day.”

She
huffed, blowing air from her mouth and her jagged strands billowed away from
her face. God, he adored the way her upper lip quivered when she was angry. He
wondered if she knew she did that. Probably not. He was an observer of people
and often noticed the smallest of motions. Even her baby toes failed to touch
the ground when she stood, small and delicate, keeping the sensitive skin off
the cold ceramic tiles.

Finding
her irresistible, Xamien pushed away from the wall and approached her, his
stance was casual to avoid adding to the tension she already held within her
muscles. She backed away until her butt hit the narrow hallway table that held
a single stainless steel bowl. The bowl vibrated and rattled on the table.

“Xamien.
Don’t you dare. Not here.”

“I can’t
help myself, Kitten.” Before she escaped, which was viable considering the word
run
pounded in her head, he grabbed her around the waist and dragged her
against him. The feel of her body was delectable and it took everything in him
to abstain from taking her right there in the foyer. “Damn woman, I can’t be in
the same room as you without wanting to fuck you.”

She was
tracking scents in the house, her head shifting in each direction while at the
same time pushing at his chest. “Seriously Xamien, this isn’t funny. Let me
go.”

“A
kiss.” No way was he going to survive longer than one more night without taking
her to his bed. Without waiting for her reply, he grabbed the back of her head
and met her mouth with flurry, tasting the sweetness and spice as his lips
roamed over the luscious warmth. There was no urging required; Delara sunk into
him within seconds, the desire flooding them both as everything else was
forgotten.

“Jesus.
Stealing another man’s woman again, Xamien.”

Delara
pulled away so hard and fast that she knocked her head into the wall. Xamien
stepped back, but refused to let go of her hand, knowing she’d run if he did.
He glanced casually at Damien who looked rather shocked and…yes, still angry.
Not at them but at life in general no doubt.

“Damien,
it’s not what you think,” Delara said, trying to yank her hand from Xamien’s
grasp.

Damien
scoffed—as did Xamien, because really, there was no misinterpreting what they
were doing. Xamien watched Damien shoot daggers at him and he guessed, if they
were in a different place, Damien would try to gut him. The only reason Damien
hadn’t was to avoid Rest; he knew the penalty for attacking a fellow Senses.

“So
what if he knows we’re sleeping together. Don’t make it a big deal and it won’t
be. You’ve slept with other men, Delara.”

“Yes,
but not a Taldeburu who I’ve secretly been seeing for years. It’s different.”

“You’re
an ass Xamien,” Damien said.

Xamien
sighed. Yeah well, Damien would have more reasons to hate him when he found out
Abby was living at his house.

Damien
touched the top of his head as if checking to see if his hair had grown back.
Damien was locked in the sub-basement soon after Abby left with Waleron for her
supposed execution, because of to his irrepressible rage. Waleron feared Damien
would try to harm himself; Xamien guessed Damien would go on a killing rampage.
Damien’s newly-shaved head seemed like some kind of premeditating ritual.

Damien
turned his attention to Delara. “I heard you mention Abby’s name earlier. Why?
She’s been gone for months, why were you thinking about her?”

“Fuck.”

“Relax.
Don’t let him get to you,”
Xamien
said.

“I can’t
really remember, Damien. They were just thoughts. I don’t know, maybe seeing
you again was a reminder of her.”

“Well
done, Kitten.”

Damien
scrutinized Delara for several seconds. Xamien could see every muscle in his
body straining, his eyes piercing into Delara as if attempting to figure out if
she was lying or not. If he didn’t let up soon, Delara would cave under his
power and blurt out the truth. Damien’s attention whirled to Xamien. “Get the
hell out of my territory, Xamien. I came to this side of the world so I never
had to see you, so fuck off.” He brushed past them and strode out the front
door.

“Wow, he
really doesn’t like you.”

Xamien
shrugged. That was an understatement. And it was something he had no intention
of getting into at the moment. “Let’s eat.” He pulled her towards the kitchen.
“If I can’t eat you, I need to eat something else.” He let her go at the
archway to the kitchen and she propped her shoulder up against the wall, her
fingers rubbing a spot on her thigh. He knew what was beneath it, a cutting
scar. He’d licked, kissed, and touched every scar on her body. Many were barely
discernible as cutting was never meant for the purpose of scarring, just pain.
The first time he’d tried to touch one of her scars, she’d backhanded him one.
Well that led to a fight. He won. Now he could touch any part of her body he
pleased.

“If I
was in your Talde, would you let me fight him?”

Xamien
bent over, pulled out a pot from beneath the stove, and plunked it down on the
element. He shrugged, turning the dial on the stove so the gas lit and a flame
burned beneath the iron grate. “Yes, but you’re not.” He turned to look at her
and saw her lips pinched together and her foot tapping the floor. He reached
above the sink and opened the cupboard, pulling down a jar of tomato paste. “In
my opinion, if you chose to act against Tarek that’s your choice. I would
protect you, and support that decision.”

He felt
the shift in the air as she moved closer. “You’d let me stay here? When you
know I’m waiting for the moment I can kill him?”

When he
looked over his shoulder, her brow was furrowed and her gaze probing. “If that
is what you needed to do, then yes. If it was my decision. But Kitten, Waleron
has taken that choice away.”

“But—”

His tone
sharpened when he didn’t mean for it to. “Bottom line—you can’t refuse him.”

“I
know.” Her voice was quiet with a husky lilt to it that made him think twice
about standing in the same room with her. Control. She’d set the boundaries and
he was already bending them.

Xamien
disagreed with Waleron’s choice, but he understood why Waleron made it. Waleron
lived by his oaths. Lived the Senses. The Senses and his oaths superseded all
else. Waleron’s oath to protect Delara because she is a Senses took precedence
over what Delara wanted or needed. Waleron kept emotions out of it.

“Don’t
get me wrong, Kitten.” He poured the paste into the pot and then grabbed
several spices from the spice holder magnetized to the stove hood. “I will
interfere if need be. If your life is in question.”

She was
silent a few minutes. He opened a can of tomato sauce, poured it in with the
paste, and stirred it with the wooden spoon.

“I won’t
go willingly.”

No, she
wouldn’t. The girl had more guts than any woman he knew. Except perhaps Max—he was
still uncertain about the Senses he had rescued from vamps. But to face up
against Waleron was either brave or stupid, and Xamien sided on brave with
Delara. He respected that. His mother had loads of strength and determination,
as did his closest friend Glunk. “I know you won’t.”

Her head
tilted, her expression baffled. “How can you stand there and act
so...nonchalant?”

“Would
it be better if I argued and ranted and raved? Maybe threw some things around
the room? Demanded that you listen to your Taldeburu?” He waved his hand and
the dishtowel began swirling in the air then dropped to the floor. He held out
his hand to her.

She
immediately looked suspicious. “What?”

“Come
here.”

“Why?”

“God,
you’re like a skittish deer. You’re not like this at home.” He could remember
an evening when they’d been cooking and she’d jumped him, dumping the entire
salad onto the floor they ended up laying on seconds later.

“Your
home, not mine.”

He
shrugged. “How about some dinner? Keir took Anstice to Danielle and Balen’s, Jedrik
and Damien are hunting CWOs in the Cabbagetown area, and Galen’s flown overseas
for a few days.”

“Ryker
is here.”

 “Brooding
in the basement. He isn’t coming anywhere near the kitchen, I suspect.” He
nodded towards the fridge beside her. “Can you pass the milk?”

He’d
expected refusal, but instead she nodded. The woman was driving him insane with
her standoff attitude. He understood it, but damn if he wasn’t frustrated. It
looked like their fling was going to stay limited to Spain and that cooking dinner
and stealing a kiss was all he was getting while he was here.