Fighting Fate: Book 2 of the Warrior Chronicles (10 page)

He squeezed her hand. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Jesse picked up the pace, dragging Taryn along with him. “Like I’m chocolate cake and you’ve been on a diet for more weeks than you can count.”

He gritted it out, sounding so much harsher than he intended. It was completely lost on Taryn. She laughed, a full-throated sound that seemed to start at her toes, touching every part of her before coming out in a melody of sheer joy.

Jesse stopped just shy of the clearing that began his back yard and let go of Taryn’s hand, waiting for her to stop. She was actually wiping tears from her eyes from laughing so hard and that was good to see. It had been one hell of a day and she’d been put through the ringer. Still she found something to laugh about in this absurdity of a day.

“It’s easy to see that you know women. Chocolate first, sex second.” She stepped back and saluted him. “You sir are a scholar and a gentleman.”

“So what’s it going to be, Ms. Campbell-Mohr, sex? Chocolate? Your wish is my command, my lady.” It was killing him to say that. What he wanted was to throw her over his shoulder and take her to his room, get her out of that dress Finn lent her that was cut way to low and cinched way too tight, and make love to her until neither of them could stay awake any longer.

“That’s the second time in the last fifteen minutes that I’ve been asked what I want like someone else can make my every dream come true.” She smiled, a sad smile and then seemed to collapse inside herself.

“What I’d really like right now is a t-bone, medium rare, a twice baked potato with extra-sharp cheddar, some steamed and buttered green beans, still crisp, and a Petite Syrah to wash it down. I’d also like a bath and an old, long well-worn t-shirt that smells like your cologne. Then I’d like to cuddle in and watch
Love Actually
so I can remind myself that the best love comes to those under twelve and over ninety.
Then
I’d like to eat a big slice of dark chocolate cake with French silk frosting and fall asleep in your arms.” Taryn looked up at him with no artifice, only a semi-platonic yearning that wasn’t going to get him laid. “I’d like to fall asleep wearing your shirt with you holding me.”

Damn.
For a man with nothing but a night of frustration ahead of him, Jesse found himself more aroused than he could remember being since he graduated from high school.

“I don’t wear cologne.”

“I’ll take the shirt you’re wearing under that tuxedo shirt.” She shrugged. “As long as I can smell you on it, it’ll do.” She cocked her head at him. “How many tuxedoes sd you own anyway?”

Jesse ignored her question. He didn’t want to engage in any conversation that had anything to do with what he was worth. He took too much heat from his family about that already. He didn’t need Taryn joining in.

“You can have my t-shirt after I feed you, but you’re gong to have to take it off me.”

The smile she gave him could only be described as beatific. “My pleasure.”

Groaning, Jesse grabbed her hand and took her home.

…

The remnants of bone, beans and potato peel sat on a plate on the floor. There wasn’t even a crumb of chocolate cake left. The bottle from his collection, which he purchased three years ago for five hundred dollars, and was now worth about twelve hundred, was two-thirds gone. Taryn fell asleep in his arms, her third glass untouched. Jesse held her, watched the remainder of her movie. She was right about the movie too. The best character was the boy. The second best, the old couple in the airport who had about two seconds of screen time.

Taryn never got her bath. She even fell asleep before she got that shirt that she wanted so badly. For the life of him, Jesse couldn’t figure out why he was content to just hold her. She let out a soft snore. Turning off the TV with the remote, he rested his head against the headboard, wondering just when it was he decided he was going to keep her. Her lips parted, she snuggled more deeply into his chest, and drooled on him. Jesse smiled, allowing himself to close his eyes for a moment.

You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. Just like that old couple, I’ll be holding you while you drool all over me at ninety and hopefully a good decade after that.

An hour later Jesse undressed her, pulled his t-shirt, still warm from his body, over her and held her while wearing nothing but his boxers, his pendant and the heartfelt smile that having her near brought.

His eyes took in her curves but didn’t linger too long. He didn’t want to wake her, she needed her sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a big day for her, so would be the nine after that. She was going to hate him before the week was out. There wasn’t much hope for a different outcome and he wouldn’t risk her safety to achieve one if in fact that was possible.

Jesse held her through the night, enjoying the small sounds she made and her ready hand reaching out to him every time he shifted position. It was as if she wanted to keep touching him, even in her sleep. As the first streaks of midnight purple turned to orange in the early morning sky, Jesse slipped his pendant from his neck and gently eased the chain around hers. The pendant was longer on her, reaching the length of her breasts. It was a daisy. The only tangible gift he had from his birth mother.

He kissed the top of her head, cringing again at the purpling of her temple, steeling himself for the week and a half he’d be away from her, hoping she’d forgive him once it was over. It had to be done.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.” He whispered against her hair, softly kissing her head again. “Forgive me.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Taryn awoke in an unfamiliar room, bathed in her dream lover’s scent, an equally unfamiliar weight around her neck. She pulled at the thick chain. It was sterling, handmade by the weight and feel, comprised of woven links. It held a pendant bigger than a nickel but smaller than a quarter, made of eighteen carat gold and sterling. Taryn held it up to the light. It was heavy and solid, the sterling tarnished with sweat and age and gold petals that could never be dulled by either. The pendant was a daisy, happy and glittering bright, obviously worn, and at one time Taryn was willing to bet, owned by a woman. It wasn’t the kind of thing a man would chose for himself, especially not one as blatantly masculine as Jesse.

When she’d heard him whisper, she’d been in that easy place, where dreams still held sway yet managed to incorporate elements from the waking world, spinning them into a silken web of dream-wake reality that blended the best of both.
Forgive me
, she’d heard him say as he placed the necklace over her head. Was this his version of a birthday or wedding gift? Taryn vaguely remembered its warmth as Jesse fished it under her…ah…
his
shirt that she was snuggled into. And just when had she started thinking of what happened yesterday as a wedding?

I’m losing my blooming mind.

There was a noise in the room and suddenly the heavy drapes were being dragged back, letting the full light of day hit her square in the face. Squinting, one hand attempting to shade her eyes, Taryn saw Shannon O’Shay standing in the middle of the room, smiling evilly, brandishing a kitchen ladle. Then the real pain began.

Ladle in one hand, cast iron skillet in the other, Shay began banging like a demon escaped from Hades. When she buried her head under the pillow the obnoxious sound momentarily stopped only to be replaced with the over-bassed blaring of the theme from Rocky. Taryn grabbed the closest thing she could from the side table, a rock paper-weight with painted flowers and hearts on it, and threw it in the general vicinity of the offending sounds.

“Turn that foul crap off and get out of my room before I gut you like the pig you are, O’Shay.”

Shay flipped off the stereo. She peeked out from under the pillow, watching warily as he strode to the side of the bed, way too cheerful for the earliness of the day. When he reached her side he smacked her cover strewn bottom.

“Gutting is exactly what you need to learn, so get your lazy tail out of bed, general. It’s time to ascend to your tower and get locked in for the next-”

Shay looked at his watch. “-nine days, twenty-two hours and thirty-four minutes. Oh, you dented Jesse’s favorite 1880’s spittoon with that paperweight, but otherwise did no damage. Aim’s a little off, I’d say.”

Taryn sat up. “What are you talking about?”

“Besides the fact that you can’t throw and you can’t gut?”

Taryn looked around for something else to throw at him. In fairness, her eyes were covered the last time. Shay grinned like an evil four decade old leprechaun who hadn’t found his rainbow or his pot of gold yet but was having the time of his life bedeviling everyone in his path until he did.

“You are about to learn the fine art of kicking tail and taking names. Of course it’s going to be painful since you don’t have much time and you’re hopelessly out of shape, not to mention, entirely unskilled. So there you have it. You are going to learn how to defend yourself.” Shay held up a hand when she opened her mouth to cut him off. “That’s it. That’s all. You have no choice, so get moving.”

She wasn’t out of shape. She walked five miles a day and lifted weights. So what if she enjoyed her food a bit more enthusiastically than every other female she knew. Who was he to say she was out of shape? Okay, so one could probably bounce quarters off Shay’s well defined and overly muscled stomach. Still, he had no right to say she was out of shape. Did Jesse think so? Oh God, Taryn thought, as the realization swept through her that she was naked under his shirt.
He’s seen me and found me wanting.

Blood rushing in her ears, Taryn shouted at the inked Irishman from hell. Suddenly she hated him and every other fantastic bit of male eye candy that could grace the cover of
Fitness Today.
“Get out of here O’Shay before I find a way to slice off your head. Right now I hate you…I hate mornings…I hate bad ‘70s boxing music, and I’m beginning to hate this place.” Taryn was screaming by the time she got to the bit about the music, which was a lie, because she’d always been a Rocky fan. Still, she’d worked herself into quite a state and she wasn’t done yet.

“I hate that I can’t beat you,
and
Jesse, to a bloody pulp for leaving me to your tender mercies.” Taryn threw a pillow at Shay’s head. It fell short, just like her insults.

Shay bent down, picked up something white and neatly folded from the bottom of the bed, that hadn’t been there last night, and tossed it two handed like an expert basketball player passing a ball, hard, fast and right on target. It hit her in the face before she could duck or block.

“Pathetic.” Shay said, shaking his head at her, grin still splitting his irritatingly handsome face. “Anger is good, grasshopper, but you’re all talk. You can’t even block cotton coming at you from six feet away.” The grin fled and something in his eyes shifted. “Get your ass in gear, sister or I’ll take you to Sensei naked. Either way you’re going to meet him in ninety seconds. If I were you I’d put that gi on fast and hit the head. Clock’s a ticking.”

Taryn looked at Shay a moment trying to weigh his words and his determination. Shay wore a shroud of self-assuredness that seemed to be emblematic of the men who populated this fairyland. In the short time she’d spent here, Taryn had grown to hate it. Mostly because she was quickly learning that when Jesse or Shay or Jordon, for that matter, got that particular look in their eyes, they meant exactly what they said and nothing under heaven would stop them from following through with whatever promise they made.

Taryn jumped out of bed, ran her hands through her tangled hair, and quickly untied the red ribbon holding the pajama-like outfit that Shay threw at her face. The cotton held Jesse’s scent, just like his shirt. Taryn held it to her face, inhaling deeply.

“Thirty seconds.” Shay said, not bothering to leave the room.

“Turn around.”

He raised a brow, but he turned. “I can hear every move you make so don’t even think about trying to brain me again.”

Taryn stopped thinking and started moving. She set aside the red ribbon, pulled the t-shirt over her head, grabbed her bra and panties, that were each nicely folded and placed on the chair in the corner, and put them both on. The gi pants followed. They were self explanatory. She pushed her arms through the tunic like top, but she couldn’t figure out how to tie it or the belt that went with it.

“Fifteen seconds.”

“Oh shut up, hard ass. I can’t figure out how to tie this damn thing.” Taryn said, feeling browbeat and worse than that, hopelessly inept. “Help me or go away.” Taryn picked up the cast iron skillet. She’d had enough of feeling like a victim in the last twenty-four hours to last a lifetime.

“I don’t need to be a ninja to send you to hell, Shannon O’Shay.” She said, holding her weapon like a baseball bat. It was heavy and he could probably disarm her, but not before she broke something. “I am sick to death of the overbearing, over-the-top-macho-crap from you people. What makes you think you’re entitled to run roughshod over us mere mortals?”

Taryn was on the ground before her brain registered he’d moved. The skillet skidded across the room, no mean feat considering its weight. Shay looked down at her, letting her feel his weight, not the least bit sexual or threatening other than cutting off her ability to take more than exceptionally shallow breaths. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t being condescending. In fact, Taryn could best describe the emotion in his gray eyes as empathetic. His words, however, were not.

“Lesson number one: Never ‘talk’ about using a weapon. If you pick up a weapon or have one in your possession, use it, hard and fast. Never threaten, especially when your enemy is stronger or better trained than you, or in this case, both. Strike and then run, or just run. Don’t talk, just do.” As soon as he was done with his lesson Shay jumped off of her, pulling her up with a quick jerk that hurt her shoulder.

He tied the strings of her gi without further comment. Taryn memorized his quick, efficient movements since she didn’t want to have to ask for help getting dressed again. Shay picked up the white belt from the bed. He looked her in the eye, hit her right shoulder hard from the front at the same time hitting her left shoulder from behind, spinning her so fast it made her dizzy. Shay wrapped his arms around her waist, wrapping the long span of white cotton canvas around her starting at her belly button with the mid-point, wrapping the ends around to the front, the left over right and right over left until she had a knot tied tightly just below her navel. Taryn’s face flamed at being tossed around like a six foot ragdoll, humiliated beyond belief at having to accept help from a man she would have willingly smucked a few seconds ago. No way would she ask him for help again.