Siren's Call (A Rainshadow Novel) (27 page)

“That’s not how it is.”

But he was carrying her down the short hallway into the darkened bedroom and she knew there was no stopping him. She did not want to stop him. This was the one man she could be herself with, and that was a gift she had never expected to receive.

“That’s exactly how it is.” He stood her on her feet beside the bed, spun her around, and unzipped the back of the bridesmaid gown. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from you, it’s that you have to confront your nightmares.”

“That’s ridiculous.” The dress fell to the rug around her bare feet. She kicked it aside and turned to face him. “Having sex with you isn’t a nightmare.”

He winced. “Wow. You really know how to make a man feel like a king.”

“You’re trying to spin my words.”

He brushed his mouth against hers. When he raised his head his eyes were hot.

“What I’m trying to do is get you to shut up,” he said. “At least until it’s time for you to sing.”

She looked at him, breathless. Her pulse had kicked up and she was feeling pleasantly buzzed. She decided not to do any more talking for a while.

Rafe reached down and hauled the blanket and sheet to the foot of the bed. He unfastened her dainty bra and slid both palms down her sides.

She shuddered at the power and control in his touch. Excitement sluiced through her, rezzing her talent and—for the moment—pushing aside her concerns about their relationship. He was hers for now, and that was good enough.

His fingers slipped under the scrap of lace around her hips. The panties dropped to the floor. He slid one hand between her legs, cupping her gently, just enough to make her wet.

She sighed and leaned into him.

He lifted her up and dropped her somewhat unceremoniously onto the bed, then sat down beside her and pried off his shoes. His shirt and trousers and briefs followed. He was fully, heavily aroused.

In the next moment he was on top of her, pinning her to the bed with his weight. He caged her with his arms and kissed her with slow, drugging power.

“You’re going to sing for me again tonight, Ella,” he whispered against her throat. “I want to hear you sing. I need to hear you sing.”

She caught his face between her palms.

“Rafe,” she whispered.

“Are you going to start talking again?” he asked warily.

“I want you to know that I love singing to you,” she said, her throat tight with the intensity of her emotion. “I love you.”

He went very still above her.

“Ella,” he said finally. “Ella, I love you. I have since the moment I met you.”

She smiled. “I doubt that, but it’s very nice to hear.”

“It’s the truth. That’s how it is for a Coppersmith man. Like a kick in the gut.”

“Okay, that’s not exactly the most romantic thing you could have said, but under the circumstances, I’m prepared to run with it.”

“It’s the truth. You want to know what kind of impression you made on me?”

“Of course.” She smiled. “I want to hear every single detail.”

“I started dreaming about you right after the explosion in the ruins, when the fever first hit me.”

That stopped her. “You dreamed about me?”

“There were times when everyone, including me, was afraid that if the fever didn’t kill me I would end up going mad. When things got really bad you would come to me in my dreams and you would sing me back to the surface.”

“Oh, Rafe.” She blinked the tears out of her eyes. “You survived because you’re strong. But I have to say that what you just said is a heck of a lot more romantic than the kick-in-the-gut thing.”

“It’s all true. You were the one who got me through the nightmares and the cold sweats.” He touched the edge of her lips with one finger. “Did you think about me during those three months?”

“I thought about you a lot during those three months, but I can’t say my thoughts were romantic. I was mostly pissed off because I was sure that you’d walked away or maybe run away.”

“Okay, but you wanted to see me again, right?”

“Sure. If only to tell you that I was pissed off. However, when you said you wanted to hire me instead of date me, I got even more pissed off, and then things got complicated.”

“It’s been a real roller coaster,” he agreed. “But we’re good now, right?”

“We may be good, but you owe me a coffee date.”

“How about coffee in bed in the morning?” he asked.

“That works.”

He held her very still. “Will you marry me?”

She looked into his eyes and saw the certainty of his love. Everything within her responded with the same fierce and abiding certainty.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I will marry you.”

He rolled onto his back and pulled her down across his chest. “I feel like I’ve been looking for something all my life and now I’ve finally found it.”

He kissed her.

Energy burned in the bedroom.

“I want to talk to you about the Ghost City project,” Rafe said.

Orson tried not to show his astonishment. The Ghost City project had been a forbidden subject within the Coppersmith family ever since it had stolen Rafe’s talent and nearly killed him. They had all respected his refusal to discuss the venture in detail primarily because Rafe was as stubborn as everyone else in the clan, and he was the one who had established the unwritten rule.

“All right,” Orson said. “I’m listening.”

He sat on the business side of his very big desk and studied his second son. Rafe was standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows, silhouetted against the vivid sunset that was painting the Resonance City skyline in fiery shades of orange and red. His legs were braced slightly apart, like a First Generation lawman preparing to face down an outlaw.
But instead of gripping the handle of a gun, his fingers were loosely clasped behind his back.

Cynthia had given him three fine offspring, Orson reflected. He loved them all and he was desperately proud of them. He would have walked into Hell for any of them. But truth be told, Rafe was the one he and Cynthia had worried about the most over the years.

Rafe was the hardest to understand. In a family of highly focused and psychically talented people, Rafe had been the outlier. As Cynthia put it, Rafe had climbed out of his cradle to search for something and he was still looking for it.

His gift for resonating with rock that was infused with energy had made him a valuable point man on Coppersmith exploration teams, but he had preferred chasing bad guys for the FBPI. Orson suspected that Rafe had used the criminal consulting work as a drug to distract himself from his endless quest.

For a while, everyone in the family had begun to wonder if Rafe would join the Bureau as a regular agent. But it soon became apparent that he had no patience for the politics and the rigid hierarchy of organized law enforcement. Orson had figured out early on that there was no point trying to drag Rafe too deep into the family business for the same reasons.

The bottom line was that Rafe was not management material. He was a lone wolf. That type never did well when it came to climbing up a corporate org chart.

Rafe turned away from the scene at the window. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the Ghost City project,
and I’ve had a few conversations about it with someone I trust.”

Now that was interesting.

Orson propped his elbows on the desk and put his fingertips together. “I’m listening.”

“You’re right, Dad. People—including Vortex—are going to keep looking for the portal to the Ghost City. Sooner or later someone else will find it. I think it would be better for everyone if Coppersmith controls the site. We now know that Vortex is willing to resort to kidnapping and murder to achieve its objectives. The government and the Guilds don’t have the technical ability to run a hot-quartz site like the city. Hell, I’m not even sure that we can deal with the power in that place.”

“I understand. But better Coppersmith than the other options, is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

Orson looked at him for a long time. “There’s only one way to find it again.”

Rafe looked at his gray quartz ring. “I think I can get a team through the firestorm and open the portal. I’m willing to do it. But you’re going to have to put someone else in charge of the venture. My old talent is gone, Dad, and it’s not coming back.”

“You sound like you’ve made your peace with that.”

Rafe smiled. “I had a little help.”

Orson’s intuition kicked in. “From that young woman you said you wanted to introduce to your mother and me?”

“Ella Morgan. Yes.”

The certainty in Rafe’s voice told Orson a great deal.

“When do we meet her?”

“Today. She’s waiting in your reception lobby.”

“She’s the one, is she?”

“It was like you always said, a kick in the gut.”

“Yeah, that’s how it is for a Coppersmith man. But take my advice and don’t tell your Ella. Think of a more romantic metaphor.”

“Too late. I already screwed up with the metaphor thing.” Rafe started toward the door. “By the way . . .”

Orson tensed. “What?”

“I’ve got a new talent.”

Stunned, Orson got slowly to his feet. “You’re joking.”

“No. Turns out that’s what the psi-fever was all about. My senses were adapting to the new vibes in my aura. I’m a lucid dreamer now.”

“Huh. What the hell can you do with that talent? Please don’t tell me that you’re going to set up in business as a storefront psychic. Your mother will faint.”

“Mom doesn’t have to worry. Ella has come up with a new career for me.”

“Well? Don’t keep me in suspense. What is this new career path you intend to pursue?”

“Why don’t you ask Ella?”

Rafe opened the door. Orson knew from the way his son was looking at the whiskey-haired woman sitting in the reception area that he was about to meet his future daughter-in-law.

“Come and meet my dad,” Rafe said. “He wants to know about my new career.”

Ella put down the glossy magazine she had been reading, got to her feet, and walked into the office. She smiled.

“Hello, Mr. Coppersmith,” she said.

Orson opened his senses as he crossed the room to greet her. He had always considered himself to be a shrewd judge of character. It was part of his talent. He looked into Ella Morgan’s eyes and paid attention to the energy that shivered in the atmosphere around her. Something about the vibe told him that this was the right woman for his always-questing son. He had a feeling that she understood Rafe the way none of the others ever had.

“This is indeed a pleasure, Miss Morgan,” Orson said.

“Please, call me Ella.”

“Of course—if you will call me Orson. Now, then, what’s this I hear about Rafe’s new career?”

“It’s obvious when you think about it,” Ella said. “Rafe likes to hunt for answers. He would have made a great cop or an FBPI agent but he doesn’t play well with others. So, I have suggested that he go into business as a private investigator.”

Orson let the shock roll over him. When things settled down he got the old, familiar sense of rightness. He looked at Rafe.

“Damn,” he said. “Should have thought of that myself.”

It was the wedding of the season, a lavish, over-the-top affair worthy of an alliance between the powerful Coppersmith family and a legendary music clan. Invitations to the three-day event at an exclusive resort on Copper Beach Island were coveted by everyone from hedge fund investors, Guild bosses, and high-ranking Coppersmith employees to several members of the reclusive Jones family—that would be the Arcane Joneses who, according to rumor, had a long-standing friendship with the Coppersmiths that dated back to the Old World.

The bride’s side of the aisle was filled with a glittering assembly of famous, near-famous, and as-yet-undiscovered music talents. The bride’s mother, the coloratura soprano, Sophia Morgan, sang a special song written for the occasion by the bride’s cousin, a renowned composer. Sophia hit all the money notes. Someone pointed out that in other
circumstances, tickets to hear her in concert would have gone for astronomical prices.

The bride’s brother, Zander Morgan, whose current rez-rock album was at the top of the charts, was scheduled to perform for the crowd later in the evening.

The bride was escorted down the aisle by her father, the conductor of the Resonance City Philharmonic. There was a small but audible gasp of surprise when the cluster of bridal attendants was led by a very small bridesmaid who turned out to be a dust bunny adorned in a somewhat ragged wedding veil.

Upon reaching the altar the dust bunny hopped up onto a pedestal. Having evidently grasped the solemn tone of the occasion, the unusual bridal attendant remained remarkably still until it was announced that the groom could kiss the bride.

When Raphael Coppersmith took his wife in his arms, enthusiastic chortling was heard. A few people surreptitiously checked their cellphones.

•   •   •

Sometime later Rafe led Ella out onto the dance floor for the opening waltz. A hush fell on the large crowd as everyone turned to watch the couple.

Ella smiled at Rafe, joy sparkling through her. “Mom always told me that Mr. Right would show up sooner or later. And here you are, Mr. Coppersmith. About time.”

Rafe tightened his hold on her and whirled her into a long, gliding turn. “There were complications, but I’m here now and I’m going to keep you close for the rest of our lives.”

“Works for me.”

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world, Mrs. Coppersmith, and I am the luckiest man. I love you. I will always love you.”

“I love you, Rafe. You are my forever man.”

Together they let the vibrant energy of the music sweep them into a future that glowed with the promise of a love that would last a lifetime.

•   •   •

The deliveryman’s name was Ted. He arrived shortly before midnight on the small, private helicopter that had been sent to the mainland to collect him and his cargo. He had a hard time believing anyone—even folks as wealthy as the Coppersmiths—would have placed the order in the first place, let alone provided such expensive transportation to Copper Beach Island. But he was pretty sure there would be a healthy tip at the end so he didn’t complain.

By the time he got to the gate at the resort where the reception was being held, the grounds were awash in hot rez-rock music. He had to raise his voice so that the security guard could hear him.

“Got an order for twelve dozen powdered-sugar doughnuts.”

The guard nodded. “Take ’em around to the kitchen. They’re expecting you.”

Ted wheeled the trolley stacked with boxes of doughnuts to the loading dock behind the resort kitchen. Someone gave him an oversized tip and took possession of the boxes.

“Say, that isn’t Zander Morgan and the Resonators, is it?” Ted yelled.

“Live and in person,” the kitchen guy yelled back. “Take a listen. Everyone else is enjoying the show. We can arrange to get you back to the mainland later.”

“Wow. That is so high-rez. Thanks.” Ted paused. “Mind if I ask who ordered the doughnuts? I mean, you guys must have catered this wedding. Why didn’t you make ’em?”

“Special request from the bride. We didn’t have a doughnut machine so we ordered in.”

The bride’s instructions were followed to the letter. The kitchen staff hauled the boxes out into the expansive gardens and left them on a picnic table. They collected the empty pizza boxes from the order that had been delivered earlier and returned to the kitchen.

Lorelei, ravishing in her veil, led the visiting-guest dust bunnies back out from under the shrubbery. They were soon joined by the others who emerged from the island’s woods and catacombs. The pizza had been a terrific first course but the doughnuts induced pure dust-bunny euphoria.

The twelve dozen doughnuts disappeared rapidly, leaving the attendees dusted in powdered sugar. The refreshments were followed by a rousing game of hide-and-seek played amid the hedges and the trees.

Humans were born to go looking for answers, and their endless quest inevitably led to trouble. They were compelled to take risks and chase dangerous legends. They could not resist the temptation to explore forbidden territory and unlock ancient, potentially deadly secrets.

But they surely did know how to
party.