Guardians of the Portals (47 page)

Tyr had been more than generous in helping them start over. They'd used a series of Portals to move through dimensions, wandering aimlessly, until Caitlin had finally begged to return to her world. She said she missed people, yet she hid in their mountain home, rarely venturing into Lander or Dubois unless it was to shop, and even then those foraging trips were rare. He'd gradually taken over those duties when he'd make the drive into town to his office.

Over time his men had found their way to him. Finn lived at the base of the mountain with a Mexican-American woman and her three sons. He was the first line of defense. The rest had scattered about the Wind River Reservation, blending in and leading normal lives until the Althings needed their services.

As Wolf stepped onto the porch, he took a deep breath. This was as close to home as he would ever find and he could be content with his circumstances but for the woman living out her life in quiet agony.

He placed the jacket on her shoulders and gave her a hug. She placed a hand on his, sending a thrill of pleasure through his groin. He still burned with his need but he'd learned to control it.

Asking, as he did every day, "Do you want to talk about it?" he no longer expected an answer, so he was unprepared for the slight nod.

She shrugged into the jacket and walked to the porch. He eased down next to her—close but not touching. His head buzzed with possibilities but he tamped his excitement down. Tyr and their researchers had said it would take time, that her mind and body would heal and her shifting abilities should resurface. He didn't give a shit about that. He'd be satisfied with a smile, an easing of the weariness and pain that haunted her beautiful face. Even her hair had gone silver grey but she'd ignored it as she did virtually every aspect of living.

"He's gone."

Wolf's heart skipped a beat for he feared who she meant. He croaked, "Yes," and waited.

Speaking softly, her words were a bare whisper above the gentle rustling of the aspen and pine. "It was an accident. It was all a horrible mistake. I shouldn't have gone to him. It's my fault. Wolf..." she turned, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I killed him as sure as if I had pulled the trigger."

Oh sweet Freyja, all this time she'd been blaming herself for her father’s death! He wanted to hold her, comfort her but she sat contained, in a world of hurt he could not penetrate. He'd spent every day reliving that evening, the shots ringing out, Jake shoving him away, then the lunge for Caitlin. He'd seen the look of careful calculation, the grim smile as the Falcon swung the weapon up and fired. Jake was dead before he hit the ground. He remembered taking aim but the Falcon had clutched a shrieking Caitlin to his chest. He'd gone for the head shot and hit him, but it wasn't a kill shot.

He'd thrown Caitlin over his shoulder and run for their lives when he'd heard what sounded like a small army advancing on the bungalow. He'd feared for Caitlin's life as she shut down, not eating or sleeping, going through the motions in a trance, slipping away from him. In desperation he had called Tyr for help. He was prepared to sell his soul to save the woman he loved beyond hope, beyond despair.

There was plenty of blame to go around and he would have to live with his own actions. All he could do was keep her safe. He risked taking her hand, his thumb stroking her palm as she quivered, but she allowed the small gesture before withdrawing into her own world.

––––––––

C
aitlin's head throbbed with the effort to mouth her agony, to give it shape and form and substance, to make it real. It had been surprisingly easy to shut the link down, to remove herself from Wolf ... and from
him
. She only needed to stop living and that seemed a small thing, the severing of her heart, such a tiny price to pay to give her gentle giant a measure of peace.

Her kriger had proven his worth and she longed to cut him loose but no matter how much she withdrew, how often she chose to diminish his caring and concern, there was something that still bound her to him. She could not call it love for it was selfish and petty and unworthy. What she knew of love lay shattered and bleeding at her feet, that night, so many months ago. She'd tried to make sense of her father's death, her mother's choices and her brother's corruption, and it forever spun in an orbit about the demon who'd always own a piece of her soul.

She glanced sideways at the man next to her, sitting shoulders hunched, in abject misery because of her foolish heart. He lived in an eternity she could not fathom and had patience beyond human understanding. He deserved better.

She grasped the railing and pulled herself up with her left hand and using the other to smooth down the jacket, mildly surprised that she could feel hips through the fabric. A weak laugh escaped her throat and Wolf stared in surprise. She held out a hand and helped him up.

"It's chilly today."

"Yes."

She sighed at her ever loquacious suitor. He held the door for her but stayed back, unsure of what she wanted. She inwardly chuckled, as she'd grown to like the Viking warrior and missed his domineering ways. This shy man seemed riddled with insecurities that were all her doing. She hoped they could find some sort of balance in the time they might have together.

The Vermont stove crackled in the center of the open space, with two sofas offset to either side, and Wolf's recliner facing it. She wandered over to the kitchen area. It always pleased her with its clean lines and stainless steel appliances. The center island separated the food prep area from the rest of the living room.

"Are you hungry?"

Wolf nodded, "I could eat." He slid onto the stool and watched as she prepared soup and sandwiches. The tension between them was palpable and she hadn't a clue what it meant. He never took his eyes off her, as if every movement had import. Hungry eyes.

She slipped a disk in the CD player and set the music to low, a slow Latin beat, sensuous. She moved around to his side and took his arm. "Come dance with me."

He stuttered, "I don't dance."

"Oh yes, you most certainly do." She moved into his arms and allowed him to lead her haltingly around the narrow space. She'd forgotten how well they'd fit together as she nuzzled his neck and pressed her cheek into his flannel shirt. His heart thudded arrhythmically, stutter-stepping with his halting movements. She'd watched him train in the weight room at the back of the sprawling cabin, seen his grace and power wielding a sword or rapier, so it surprised her that he could be so awkward with her in his arms.

She ground her hips, giving in to the beat, letting herself finally relax until the music ceased and she reluctantly eased from his arms. He murmured, "No," and she thrilled to his voice, the accent guttural, almost harsh as his voice poured out his passion and need.

It had been so long since she'd touched him. He was not a man who enjoyed cuddling or teasing with long slow kisses but tonight she would risk his discomfiture for she needed to taste and touch, to bring light back into the tomb she'd built for her heart. She unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off his shoulders and stood back to admire the taut muscles and six-pack abs.

"Working out, are you?" He blushed and she could swear he sucked his gut in, not that he needed to. She let him slip her fleece top over her head, fervently wishing she could shift into the Xena form with her boobs and hips, but tonight he would have to be satisfied with her very modest gifts. She liked the way his eyes glazed over as he contemplated her breasts, the cool air in the cabin hardening the nipples and sending a shiver down her spine.

"If you're cold," he said with a worried frown, "we could use the hot tub, if you like."

She reached up, nipping at his chin, and skipped down the long hallway leading to his office and workout rooms, and the small alcove sheltering the four-person hot tub. He followed, shedding his clothes along the way. By the time he made it to the end of the hall, she was already easing into the froth. She turned in time to watch him approach and was taken once more with the sheer size of the man. Barrel-chested and narrow-hipped with thick muscular thighs, the veins standing out prominently along his biceps, he was the epitome of fit. She'd been so self-absorbed the last few months that she hadn't noticed he'd let his hair grow until it was long enough to gather in a short ponytail.

As he settled onto the seat, she pulled the band off his hair, freeing it to fall in light brown strands around his rugged face. Worry and care had etched lines in a face she remembered as youthful and naïve. He would wear age well though she would not live long enough to see it. She had to put that thought away for another day, that awareness that this creature was not fully human and existed in a space and time she knew intimately but could never share.

He stretched his arms along the edge of the tub and watched with hooded eyes as she straddled his lap, moving her hips seductively while she traced a path around his nipples with her fingernails, pinching and flicking until he mouthed, "Caitlin," and arched to rub against her folds. She had no idea if he'd been with a woman while she'd gone through her enforced celibacy but the pleading in his eyes suggested he might not have, nor was he in a mood for prolonged foreplay.

Wolf gripped the edge of the fiberglass liner with so much force he feared he might crack it. The feel of her, flesh to flesh, was almost more than he could bear. It would take very little for him to come but he wanted her to take the lead this time, to set the boundaries so that she would realize he would never knowingly entrap her. When she finally eased onto him, he breathed a sigh of satisfaction as she rode him slow and steady. He shut his eyes against the tears as the link set him on fire and drove the words that would damn and free him on a soft exhale of
I love you
.

Revenge stirred fitfully as the small spasms chased anxiety and she took the first steps in reclaiming her life. He would never be hers again, they would never share the moonrises and ravages of an insane world, and she would keep her terrible secrets, though she had no obligation. But it suited to know there was another like her, existing just on the edge of reality. In the meantime she would give Wolf as many pieces of herself that she could spare, knowing however sparse the offering, he would accept it gratefully.

She whispered, "Let's go to bed," and smiled as he leaned forward to ravage her mouth.

****

W
olf flipped the phone shut, certain he'd made the right decision. He'd parked at the turn-off to his lane, windows open, baking in the ninety-eight degree oven the cab of the old Ford had become. Damn, it might be time to retire the old bucket of bolts. He scanned the area carefully but saw no new tracks on his lane. Things had been quiet lately, maybe too quiet. They were waiting. For what he hadn't a clue. He drove up the lane deep in thought.

Entering the kitchen through the mudroom, he spied Caitlin near the wood stove, staring intently at the floor. Her belly protruded so much he wasn't sure what she could actually see. He came around the table, wondering, and slipped on a wet spot covering the pine floor. Caitlin clutched her belly, moaning.

Oh fuck, oh sweet Freyja, her water broke. Oh gods, not now. Not yet. He wasn't ready.

Wolf grabbed her, more to hold himself upright than to help her. He felt himself slip into blind panic, almost like the first time he'd led his cohort into battle on his home world. "Do you want to sit? No? Okay, let me grab the bag. I'll get us to Lander. Just wait there."

Wolf grabbed the small suitcase sitting by the kitchen door, packed, ready to go. He knew he ought to call the mid-wife, but he decided he wanted her in a real hospital, with real doctors. He had to make some calls.

He heard her strangled cry, "Wolf? We don't have time for that. The contractions are maybe two minutes apart. Might be less." She bent forward and moaned.

"Breathe. In, out, that's right. Don't push.
Don't push
!" She gave him an evil look. "Bed. Let's get you to the bed." He wrapped her from behind and propelled her carefully down the hall. Stripping the bed, he laid out several towels and eased her down, her legs extended over the side. He packed the pillows behind her neck and upper back. "Scootch back a little. I need to get your knees up. Yeah, that's good." He grabbed a knife off his belt and cut away her panties and thought he'd pass out.

Gods, not now. Just a little longer
.

"Where are you going? Don't leave me!" she screamed at his back.

"Boil water. Scissors. Be back." Wolf raced to the kitchen, grabbed clean kitchen towels and started a large pot of water to boil. He laid the surgical sheers next to the stove. The light rap at the door startled him.

"Wolf ... goddammit, where are you?" Her scream ended on a sob.

Wolf ran to the door, yanking it open. "Oh, you're here. Come in. She's coming. The baby. This way."

He grabbed the man and physically hauled him into the bedroom. Caitlin lay panting, sweat cascading off her brow, hair plastered to her face. Her eyes were scrunched shut as she gasped through the next contraction.

Wolf frantically looked at the Minister. "Say the words."

The Minister looked taken aback but opened his book, considering which page to consult. Caitlin screeched an epithet. The man colored slightly, deciding perhaps haste might be best. He began the ceremony, unheard over labored breathing.

"Say it, Honey. Please, for me and our daughter. Don't push. Not yet. Say it!"

"All right!
I. Fucking. Do
."

"Me too." He glared at the Minister. "Finish it."

Grinning, the cleric said, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. Can I call for some help, son?"

"No, we've got it. Thanks. You better go." The Minister nodded once, and beat a hasty retreat. Wolf heard the door close and a car engine start up. He ran to grab the scissors, string, and the pot and towels.

"Okay, baby, now you can push." On a long keening wail, Caitlin tucked her chin and pushed with all her might. "I see the head. Once more. That's my girl. Oh gods, honey, once more." The baby slid into his hands.