Nightwind (25 page)

around the curtain, relieved to find the door closed although still not entirely so to realize she hadn’t

locked it. She listened for a moment, didn’t hear anything then finished bathing, rinsing her hair thoroughly

before turning off the tap. Stepping out of the tub, she wrapped the towel around her and opened the

bathroom door, peering out into the hall as though expecting to see an intruder.

“Meow?”
What’s the matter, Lauren?

Lauren glanced down at the cat who was sitting by the door. “Were you bumping against the door,

fella?”

“Meow?”
Why? Did I scare you?

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Don’t do it again.”

“Meow.”
Okay.

She went back into the bathroom to dry her hair and made an unladylike snort when the cat pushed past

her and hopped up on the toilet seat once more. She stared at him as he stared at her.

“You don’t give up, do you?”

Onyx grinned.

She shook her head and reached for the blow dryer.

He watched her ruffling her short brown hair. It was fine, he knew, like baby’s hair, and just as

soft. He liked touching her hair although he had only done so once or twice. He lowered his gaze

to the top of the towel that was slowly coming unwound around her chest and chuckled. It

wouldn’t take much, just a light tug, to slide the towel away from her. But he didn’t think he

should do that. He contented himself with just watching her brush her hair, her teeth, cream her

face and neck and arms. He held his breath when she put her foot on the tub and began to apply

the cocoa butter cream to her long legs.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Onyx?” Lauren asked as she smoothed the cream over her calves.

“Meow.”
Yes, I do.

“Is she pretty?” Lauren looked into the cat’s midnight black face.

He blinked.

“Yeah?”

“Meow.”
Yeah.

“Bring her around sometime,” Lauren advised him. “I’d like to meet her.”

He smiled to himself. Her scent filled his nostrils as she walked out of the bathroom and he

followed her, watching every move she made. He approved of the pretty cotton nightgown she

took out of her dresser and held his breath as she let the towel drop and she slid the gown over

her head.

“Sounds like Syntian was right,” she told the cat and didn’t see his ears rotate toward her. She bent over

the bed to pull the covers back. “He said it was going to rain.”

He watched her sit down on the edge of the bed and stare off across the room at the lightning

flaring outside the windows.

“I don’t like storms,” she said absently.

“Meow.”
I know.

She lay down, pulling the covers up to her waist, and then turned on her left side. She smiled as the cat

hopped up on the bed and padded up to her, lay down behind her, his back to her.

“Syn said you’d sleep at the foot of the bed.”

“Meow.”
He was wrong.

“Good night, Onyx.”

“Meow.”
Good night, my love.

Lauren Fowlersighed with pleasure. A sweet, enchanting feeling of lassitude and peace had settled over

her as she slept. For once in her life, her world was not at odds with her. She felt safe and protected and

loved. She was wrapped in a warm cocoon of security, supported by the comforting hands of refuge,

shielded from harm and adversity and intolerance by the wide chest of fate. The warm breath of chance

had blown over her, cleansing her life of unhappiness and misfortune. Guarded now by the vigilant

presence of an unseen sentinel, she lay in the sheltering arms of a new destiny.

“Lauren.”

She smiled, turning over into those sheltering arms and pressing her cheek against that wide chest of fate.

Comforting hands stroked her back and soothed away the worries and cares. Her sentinel’s body lay

solidly against her own and she nestled against him, aching to feel the warmth she had so long been

denied.

He knew she had sunken as far down into the chamber of dreams as she could go. Her breathing was

slow and deep and even. There was nothing standing between him and what he longed to have except

the tiny pull of conscience that reminded him she was not to be touched.

Yet.

His body throbbed with wanting her. The rigidity of his manhood leapt against her belly to remind him

that he did and he pressed himself closer to her, molding her tightly to him in an effort to still the building

need within him. She snuggled against him, her warmth invading his senses. A deep growl of possession

issued from his throat and he placed his lips to her forehead, claiming her as his own.

He had lain beside her all night, listening to her steady breathing, blocking out the wild tempest brewing

overhead, shielding her from the fear she had of the raging storm. He had whispered to her, calming her,

stroking her back to ease her and help settle her deeper into the realm of Morpheus. He dared not touch

her as he wanted to until she had turned over in her sleep, seeking out his arms and the security of his

embrace. Now, with her laying full length against him, his need was almost unbearable.

Light flared brightly in the room and he began to count, tensing for the thunderous boom he knew was to

follow. A moment before the loud crack, he tensed his arms around her, safeguarding her from the noise,

absorbing the instinctive flinch that shivered through her sleeping form.

“Oh, Lauren,” he sighed, desire making his voice deep. He nuzzled his chin along her temple and closed

his eyes.

From somewhere in her subconscious, there came a need. At first it was small, nearly hidden by the

deep slumber that claimed her, but it grew, blossoming within her like the promise of a new day. It

quivered along her nerve-endings and sent little electric bursts of desire quickening throughout her body.

It made her breathing ragged and her heartbeat erratic and a sheen of moisture appeared under her arms

and between her thighs.

His nostrils quivered and he tensed, gazing down at her sleeping face as he perceived the change

occurring in her body. He studied her face, took on the rapid eye movement beneath her lids and knew

she was dreaming. Another waft of strong aroma flitted under his nose and he held his breath, realizing

what was happening to her.

Lauren moaned, lost in the coolness of her dream.

There was a waterfall, a small pond, lush green growth all around. The water in the pond

sparkled with dappled sunlight, filtering down through the spreading branches to dance upon the

surface. The waterfall was musical, its tumbling waves gentle and soothing as it cascaded down

from a red stone cliff. Everything about the place spoke of peace and contentment.

And then he was there, standing under the canopy of a live oak tree, his hand on a low, twisted

branch. He was smiling at her, his handsome face split between the happiness to see her and the

desire that turned his gaze to molten heat. Slowly she stood up from where she sat, her own face

lit with tenderness.

“I have come for you, milady,” he told her.

She came to him, soft as a blessing, and he enfolded her within his strong embrace, fastening her

tightly to him.

“I have waited so long for you,” she whispered against the column of his throat.

He lowered his head and his mouth claimed hers in a fevered kiss that drew from her the passion

he sought. She heard his low growl of pleasure as she opened her mouth beneath his and he thrust

his tongue into the sweetness. His kiss was deep then brutally invading as he cupped the back of

her head with one hand while he pressed her body intimately to his own with the other. When at

last he tore his lips away, he blistered the flesh of her throat and shoulders with kisses that made

her knees weak and sent a white-hot stab of longing through her belly.

He took her right hand from his neck and moved it down his chest to the hard, demanding swell

between his thighs. “I have come from a vast distance to pleasure you, milady,” he whispered

against her throat. “Will you have me, now?”

She molded her fingers around the tumescence of his shaft. “Make me your woman then,” she

answered.

She pressed herself against him and he groaned. Her body was responding to the dream in which she

was locked. He sensed her passion building for her body was giving off the unmistakable odor of

impending release. She was shivering, wrapped up in the arms of her dream, about to experience for the

first time in her life the climatic moment of that release. He didn’t know how much longer he could lay

there, holding her, smelling her musky scent, absorbing the heat of her body, and not fling himself upon

her to satisfy the straining power in his loins. His nearness to her was torture.

Lauren whimpered and writhed against him, her hand going down to the juncture of his thighs.

He slid his hand down her back, over her hip, and insinuated it between them, moving aside her questing

fingers. He touched the core of heat radiating from her body, and eased his fingers to the elastic at the leg

opening of her panties, sliding his trembling hand under the cotton fabric until he touched the crisp curls at

the apex of her thighs.

“Do not touch her,”
he heard Angeline’s voice as clearly as though she lay beside him, her restraining

words hissing in his ear like a deadly viper.

His hand stilled and his face became a mask of seething frustration.

“You know better,”
his mistress warned him.

Lauren wiggled against him and the tips of his fingers encountered the wetness flowing from her

womanhood.

“Angeline, please!” he begged, watching Lauren’s face as the passion built. He held his breath,

understanding the release was only a second away from Lauren. He hurt wanting to thrust his fingers

inside the dampness, to feel the quivering that would signal the woman’s first climax.

“No!”
Angeline forbade him.

Lauren drew in her breath and shuddered, reaching the summit of desire and hovering for just a moment

at the top before tumbling downward into the valley of satiation.

He groaned, sensing his lady’s release, not a part of it, forbidden by time and chance to have been the

one to initiate her into the pleasure of lovemaking.

“Damn you, Angeline,” he spat, removing himself from Lauren’s sleeping body, and getting out of the

bed to glare into the darkness of the room. “Why?” His words were vicious, spat from a mouth twisted

with loathing and bitterness.

“Because it was wrong,”
came the answer.
“She did not give you permission to take her.”

“I just wanted to...”

“To do what is not allowed. Go. Get away from her. Let her finish her sleep in peace!”

His anger was like a rampaging river, drowning everything beneath it as he stalked from the room, his

face set into hard lines of unforgiving hate. Flinging himself down on the sofa, he curled up into a fetal

position, hugging his misery to himself, and stared in defeat at the flashes of light pulsing outside.

Bright sunlightflooded her bedroom the next morning and Lauren woke feeling refreshed and at peace

with herself for the first time ever. There was a smile on her face as she threw back the covers, looking

around for Onyx only to find him missing from the bed. She shrugged, knowing he was about

somewhere, and padded into the bathroom.

Looking into the mirror over the vanity, she liked what she saw. Her face was bright, her eyes dewy, her

smile content. She brushed her teeth and her hair and swung her robe about her, belting it as she came

down the hall and peeked into the living room.

“You hungry?” she asked the cat curled up on the sofa.

Onyx jumped down from the sofa and trotted over to her, rubbed against her legs, begging to be picked

up.

“You’re spoiled already, aren’t you?” Lauren asked as she bent down to lift him into her arms. Stroking

his sleek body, she carried him, purring and limp, into the kitchen and set him down by the stove.

Squatting down beside him, she opened the cupboard and swept her hand over the array of cans.

“What’ll it be, Milord Onyx?”

The cat sniffed at the cans and then nudged one with its velvety nose.

“Veal bits,” Lauren said as she picked up the can and read the label. “Good choice, Your Grace. Will

you be having white milk or chocolate with that, milord?”

“Meow?”
Chocolate milk?
“Meow!”
You’re kidding!

“I agree. White it is.”

She opened the can and spooned the Kal Kan into a little blue bowl and placed it on the floor in front of

Onyx then she took another bowl from the cabinet and filled it with milk. When she bent over to place

the milk on the floor, she was surprised that the cat hadn’t started eating, she frowned. “What’s the

matter with your food?”

Onyx flicked his tail then bumped against the cupboard.

Lauren’s face cleared. “Oh, I forgot.”

The cat waited patiently until a handful of dried food had been added to his breakfast and mixed with the

veal before dipping his head to the bowl.

“Syn was right,” Lauren admitted.

“Meow.”
Naturally.

While she made coffee and a couple of English muffins with mayhaw jelly for herself, she watched Onyx