The Tenth Legion (Book 6, Progeny of Evolution) (12 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

A
fter the
culinary excesses at Floubert’s, to her happy surprise, she hadn’t
experienced the gastronomical turmoil she’d expected. There was
something to be said for quality restaurants. She hoped for the
same from the local recipes and cooking skills tonight.

Servers dimmed
the room lights, just before bringing dessert. A ballad wafted from
speakers hidden in the walls. Ed took coffee. “Try the mousse. It’s
to die for.”

“And die is
what might happen if I eat any more decadent food.” At the retort,
he exploded into laughter—a rich, hearty laugh erupting from the
core of his being. She believed he’d not laughed like this in a
long time.

When they
finished dinner, he waved off the waiter preparing to attend her
chair, performing the duty himself. With a surprising grace, he
helped her upright. Then he spun her against him. They stood
face-to-face, touching from shoulders to hips.

Before he
could settle in to enjoy the tactile full torso contact, she pulled
back.

“May I have
this dance?” he asked.

Somewhere, a
member of the staff fine-tuned the ballad’s volume. Ed took her
into his expansive but graceful embrace. Despite the massive table,
they had plenty of floor space. Off they went, spinning and
twirling and dipping their way across the marble floor. Her shoes
made soft, sliding sounds, while his steps were heavier. She let
herself enjoy his vibrant closeness. His breathing combined with
the usual scents, proclaimed the urges were rising. Almost
certainly, he sensed the same about her. More than a decade had
passed since she’d had sex with another of her kind, vampire or
lycan. Now she remembered how there were few secrets in the
ready-for-sex department.

Each time he
pressed their bodies together, he administered a teasing brush
somewhere—a hip bone or her abdomen. The aperture at the apex of
her thighs heated up. A volcanic fissure had opened somewhere
within, allowing metaphoric lava to seep into the dark space.

“Where did you
learn to dance so well?” she asked at one point.

“Mother
considered a boy’s development incomplete without learning at least
the basics.”

“My
compliments to her.” Then she remembered Ed’s mother, a hybrid like
his father, had long ago departed the mortal earth. An apology
gathered inside, but he put an index finger to her lips saying,
“They lived a full life, meeting death with no regrets.”

Six or eight
songs later, they collapsed into their chairs. Lorna listened to
the sounds of their breathing in the vast silent room, while the
sheen of perspiration gathered on Ed’s face. “Here.” She offered
him a handkerchief from a small makeup clutch.

There were a
dozen fresh linen table napkins he could have used. Turning from
them, he accepted the clean but wrinkled cloth she offered. Before
dabbing himself, he pressed the thin fabric to his nose. “This has
your scent,” he said, and wiped it across his forehead.

“And now,
yours also.”

Holding the
handkerchief in both hands, he studied the square like it could
tell him something. Then, with a wink, he handed it back to her.
After confirming his essence, she folded and returned it to the
clutch. The humble white square ascended to become one of Lorna’s
prized possessions.

A new sparkle
flowed into Ed’s eyes. “How would you like a tour?” He bounded to
his feet. Two large hands coaxed her upright.

“Sure. Not
often a working girl cop has a chance to see where the Chairman
works and lives.”

“Please don’t
call me that. The purpose of the title is to keep people at a
distance. I don’t want you to be at arm’s length. A part of me has
been drawn to you from the moment I read your file. Sometimes, I
feel we’ve known one another a long time. Does that make any
sense?”

Lorna snuggled
close to signal she accepted and appreciated receiving the
admission, delivered with a regulation measure of shyness. The
ginger haired vampire continued to appear better and better.
Underneath the Chairman Ed resided an inner Ed. Shy, loyal, and
caring. This version accepted a life of being eclipsed, yet
somehow, she brought him out, and he seemed to enjoy stepping from
the shadow of the other. But she also understood, as Cinderella
learned, when the party ends, life returns to the drab world of
reality in the form of the ashbin.

Not if I can
help it. I like this Ed.

Ed opened the
door to a room as large as her apartment, a combination office and
library. A broad desk sat in the center. “Here resides the seat of
an empire.”

Lorna took in
the plush furniture, as well as shelves of books with the bright
lettering, and smells of leather binding. A fluorescent-lit bar sat
along the side wall on one side and the half-open door to a
bathroom on the other. A second doorway occupied the opposite wall.
Opening it revealed a flood of lights and sounds accompanied by the
sight of scores of people seated in front of monitors lined up on
long tables.

“Here’s the
Operations Center,” Ed explained, closing the heavy door to shut
out the computer-mingled-with-people sounds. “It operates
twenty-four hours a day. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t run
the corporation from our Orlando offices, but from here.”

“
Where
is
here,
anyway?”
Lorna had pushed that question aside hours ago.

Ed laughed.
He’d done a lot of it that night, Lorna observed with a sense of
accomplishment. “You mean no one has told you? We’re on an island
just off Costa Rica.”

Stunned, she
remained silent for a moment or two while processing the
revelation. “Okay, I’m a thousand miles from home. I can live with
that. And I’ve been gone two days, right?”

“Yes, two
days,” he confirmed, adding with a smirk, “Don’t worry, I’ll write
you a note.”

“I know. I
know.” Lorna surveyed the office. “Where’s your room?”

“My room? What
do you mean?”

“Your room.
You know. The place where you sleep?”

He chuckled.
“You may see it, but I think you might be disappointed.”

“What? Is it
full of young females aching for a little of the Ch…”

Her voice
trailed off to nothing when the square jawed face snapped around
showing an offended expression. “It’s nothing of the kind. Through
here.” He led her through the functional, far-from-luxurious
bathroom to a darkened room beyond. The ceiling lights
automatically blinked on, bathing the room in a sterile
whiteness.

The bedroom of
the Chairman, CEO of Coven International, Inc., by any measure
among the most powerful beings in the world, was a ten-foot-square
space with a single wrought iron framed bed, a dresser of Salvation
Army Thrift Store quality, and two folding chairs. A double closet
with louvered folding doors that had seen better days covered most
of one wall. From the ceiling hung six or eight airplane models
dating from the wars of the twentieth century.

“Why?” was all
Lorna thought to ask.

“Why not?”

Why not, indeed!

In that
moment, Lorna understood him, in both his versions.

History had
seen others like Ed—Individuals who come into possession of power.
The majority have been overwhelmed by the challenge, seeking to
flee or avoid dominance over others. Those who accept often do so
reluctantly, promising themselves they will hold dominion
temporarily. Among all who have held such influence, few understood
the nature of what they possessed.

When the need
passes, power acquires a kind of sentience, seducing the holder
into exercising it to serve its own ends, often resulting in
destruction or chaos, but there are a few who are greater than the
power they wield, who view it as a tool. Ignoring the seductive
call, they listen to their inner selves. These bemused individuals
accept their mandate from God or Fate to harness the beast. In
other times, Ed’s kind converted half a world to Christianity; or
forsook a princedom to lead a people from slavery to the Promised
Land; or created the Pax Romana, lasting five centuries.

Chairman
Edward White, a poor, benighted cavalier working under his
self-wielded lash, carried the torch on behalf of all his kind.
Personal needs or desires were unimportant, even a hindrance. The
task filled him because at all times, he never forgot the mandate.
The Others, along with the corporation, depended on his competent
stewardship. The wellbeing of the flock came before friends or love
or happiness.

Lorna eyed the
pallet of a bed. Spartan, yes, but the linens smelled and appeared
fresh. Someone made them regularly, although Ed probably didn’t
notice. A coin could bounce on the tautness of the gray wool
blanket.

Looking at the
model airplanes dangling from the ceiling, she raised a curious
eyebrow.

“They belonged
to my father from his boyhood. For some reason, they most remind me
of what was best about him.”

A broad grin
erupted on her face. “The world of Edward White; I love it.”

He wore a
scent, but she explored what lay beneath. His strength. His
sacrifice. The smell was not unlike the leather-bound books in his
office, calling to her with wordless invitation. For a moment, they
sat side-by-side on the bed before he gently coaxed her to him. His
kiss brushed warmly on her lips. Then, after a hesitation, he
pressed their lips more tightly together, sliding his tongue into
her mouth. She involuntarily gasped, but recovered and
reciprocated. He reached for the vest of her outfit.

“No, let me,”
she said, shedding everything but the panty hose.

“You come to
one who offers only a sparse pallet.” His voice seemed detached as
well as oddly archaic.

“I’d come to
you on a hot waffle griddle,” Lorna answered throatily.

With sparkling
eyes and bright teeth, he beamed at her while removing his clothes.
“Please be patient,” he requested with shyness suggestive of
anything but the Chairman and CEO of CI. “I’m a little out of
practice.”

Lorna pictured
him spending several years, perhaps decades, remaining faithful to
an aging wife. Sex could not have been one of their top activities.
After she died, guiding The Others’ Ship of State had become his
passion. Lorna understood the concern his family held for him,
along with the intimate staff like Donatello, and why. CI might
have a firm guiding hand, but at the cost of balance in the life of
its leader.

Am I the key
to setting Ed’s personal rudder right?

“Think of
tonight as the first day of the rest of your life,” she said.

“Yes. The
first day of the rest of our lives,” he echoed.

They were
naked, standing in the sparse little room, staring at each other.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “The police department photograph
comes nowhere near to doing you justice.”

Surprised by
the statement because she considered the picture quite flattering,
Lorna accepted the compliment and made silent thanks to Fairy
Godmother Donatello before saying, “You should close your mouth,
Ed.”

“Yes, of
course.”

Having removed
himself from having an active sex life for a while, he didn’t take
long to get back into the swing of it. His eyes washed over her
lithe, tanned body. She stood before him, legs apart, challenging
his next move. Without further hesitation, he swept her in his
arms, depositing the giggling bundle on his laconic single bed.
Rubbing her thighs together, she felt a warm glow, accompanied by
wetness at the apex.

“Oh, no! Where
did he come from?” she asked in mock surprise, holding his
throbbing manhood between them, a blood-engorged, purple shaft.
Settling back on top of the blanket, she pressed her full weight
into the little mattress.

After tonight,
they’ll have to change the sheets, for sure.

“Oh Lorna,
it’s been so long.” The worry in his statement concerned her, but
she was ready.

“Don’t worry.
Sex is like riding a two wheeler. Once you get the hang of it, you
never forget.”

That seemed to
break the tension. He closed in on her wet feminine core. The scent
seemed to heighten his ardor.

“No, let me do
the honors,” she uttered huskily, taking him gently, lovingly.

As she dawdled
the head of his cock in the vicinity of her entrance, he probed the
slippery pink of her drenched center with an ardent finger.

He remembers
how!

A throaty gasp
filled the room when he touched her clitoris.

“Is this right
for you?”

“Is it ever!”
she murmured with a hot exhale, inserting his member. The contour
of his narrow hips flowed against the roundness of her open pelvis.
They fit together like two halves of a broken plate.

His thrusts
curved upward, scraping the front wall of her cavity. The grasping
muscles of her vagina flexed to caress and milk him. His abrupt,
rattling breaths foretold an impending orgasm.

Grasping a
buttocks cheek, like hard putty, in each of his massive hands, he
adjusted her pelvis for maximum entry, the preference of female
lycans. Responding, she wrapped arms and legs tightly around the
beautiful heaving, sweat-slick torso. Her nails dimpled but did not
tear the flesh below his shoulder blades.

His hand moved
from her clitoris to her face. Feminine nectar dripped from his
fingers as she licked them clean. When she finished, he caressed a
fevered cheek with a light, disciplined touch that contrasted with
the frantic motion below. “You are beautiful, my love,” he said
between labored breaths.

Did he say “my
love”?

Ed’s
frictionless strokes probed the remote depths of her carnality,
evoking tandem orgasms the likes of which she hadn’t experienced in
years. They came in waves, compressing her inner muscles against
the strained shaft within, sending waves of neural thrill
throughout her body.