Even as the warmth of the coming day flooded through my body, breaking the chill of night, it caressed my dad’s body and stirred the waiting dragon to life. His skin grew warmer to the touch, beginning to glow with that inner heat. It forced me to release his hand, even though I didn’t want to.
The day grew brighter, my dad’s skin warmer, until it seemed the sun itself burned under his flesh. Finally, the fires of the dragon broke free—gloriously, finally free—and reached skyward with exuberant fingers.
“May the Gods of sun and sky and air guide you on your journey, Dad,” I whispered, my eyes on the flaming brightness and my throat so constricted with tears I could barely speak the ritual words. “May you find the peace and happiness in the forever lands that you could not find in this.”
The streaming fingers of sunlight seemed to twirl and dance, as if in answer, and then they were gone, lost to the brightness of the coming day.
The radiance caressing my skin died, taking with it the underlying hum of energy. All that remained of my dad were a few ashes and the remaining scraps of a comforter that the wind snatched up and scattered.
He was gone. Forever.
I closed my eyes and let the grief flow free.
Chapter Twelve
I don’t know how long I cried. I just couldn’t seem to get my act together, and much of that was guilt. It was ridiculous to feel that way, I knew, because the past couldn’t be changed no matter how much I might wish otherwise. I’d done what I’d done. I’d left knowing Dad was ill, that the diabetes was getting worse. But in the foolishness of youth, I hadn’t figured it would be so hard to free my mom. Hadn’t counted on getting caught myself. I’d been too confident in what I was and what I could do to worry about such things as capture by the very people who held my mother.
Through all the tears, Trae was there. Holding me when I needed to be held, making love to me when I needed the intimacy, leaving me alone when I wanted to be alone. He fed me and looked after me, and was patient with me when my grief ran into the need to rant and rage.
But I couldn’t stay in that pit of despair and guilt forever, especially not when I still had promises that needed to be kept. Besides, the more I delayed, the longer Trae was away from his sister.
It was well after midnight several days after the memorial service at the hospital when I turned in the warm circle of Trae’s arms and said, “We should leave here tomorrow.”
He touched my cheek, running his finger down the length of it until he reached my lips, then lightly began to trace them with a fingertip. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”
I nodded and stretched out languorously, so that my body was pressed more fully against his. “It’s probably best to swim to Scotland. Or fly, in your case. I wouldn’t put it past them to have someone watching the airports.” Or be paying one of the customs officers to keep an eye out for them.
“I could acquire you a new passport, if that’s your worry.”
His touch moved down my neck and across my right shoulder. Desire trembled through me, but I held still. That feather-light caress felt too good to move on to more intimate pursuits just yet.
“In this day and age, with all the massive security checks they have at airports, faking it is not worth it.”
“Faking it never is in the long run.” Amusement played around his lush mouth as his fingers drifted toward my breasts.
I arched my back a little and pressed into his hand. “And do you often fake it?”
He cupped one breast and flicked his thumb over the erect nipple, sending little arrows of pleasure shooting across the rest of me. His blue eyes twinkled mischievously in the night. “Never when it’s important.”
“And this is important?” I said softly. Emphatically.
“The most important thing in my life,” he said. “And not only for this moment.”
Then he kissed me.
It was a kiss that was deep and long, a kiss that explored and aroused. A kiss that spoke of emotions that had been hinted at, and talked around, but never actually said. They were there nevertheless, thick and real.
“The trouble with a moment,” I said when I could, my voice more than a little breathless, “is that it does only last a moment.”
“I think I should be offended by that comment.” His voice was dry. “I’ll have you know, my stamina is legendary. I’ve been known to last for hours.”
“Then prove it.”
He chuckled softly. “A challenge you may yet regret, my girl.”
“Not when you’re still talking rather than doing.”
He grinned and sat up on the bed, shaking free of the sheets and blankets. Then he picked up my right foot and began massaging my toes with warm fingers.
Frustrated amusement rolled through me. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
“Hush, and let the master work.”
I snorted. “You’re not my master.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. I’m the master of your seduction, and you will be putty in my hand by the time I’m finished. Now shut up and enjoy.”
I shut up as ordered and closed my eyes, enjoying the press of his fingers against my foot. Enjoying the warmth that flooded up my leg and across my torso. Enjoying the tingle of expectation as the minutes ticked by, and the desire—need—for him to move on grew.
Eventually, he did, paying similar attention to my calves, and then my thighs. I made a small sound of disappointment when he skipped the hot spot at the junction of my legs and moved up to my belly. He chuckled softly, but that disappointed sound moved into a sigh of contentment when he began to caress my breasts. But he moved on all too quickly, working his way up to my shoulders and down each arm, before finally—thankfully—he began his teasing, erotic journey back down my body to the one point he’d missed. Even before his fingers slid over my clit, I was shuddering with pleasure, but that softest of touches had me moaning. God, if he didn’t get on with it soon, I’d surely burst.
He kept up that teasing caress until I was squirming and pressing myself harder against his hand, wanting—needing—the orgasm that loomed so close. When he finally slipped two fingers inside me, I gasped and came undone, shuddering and groaning and thrusting into his touch.
When the shudders began to ease, he started again, this time with his tongue, savoring every glorious inch of me, until sweat sheened my body and every fiber vibrated with the need for release.
When his tongue slipped over my clitoris, I made a sound that was little more than a gargled half scream, and thrust up against him, so that his face was buried in the warm heat of me. And he licked and sucked and delved his tongue deep inside of me, until my body was afire and I was begging him to take me fully.
He finally relented and slid up my body, capturing my lips as he slid slowly, deeply inside. As my flesh enveloped him, a low groan of pleasure vibrated against the back of my throat. God, was there a greater sensation on this earth than the completeness of this one moment?
I began to move against him, but he held me still and continued to kiss me. Not urgently, not desperately, but slowly, passionately, like he had all the time in the world. I answered in kind, even though my body was trembling with the need for completion. I slid my hands up his back and around his neck. And I knew, in that moment, that we were one. Not just physically but spiritually, our souls entwined and eternally linked.
“Look at me,” he ordered softly.
I opened my eyes and gazed into his, and felt like I was falling into a bright ocean. Caught, once and for all—and forever.
He began to move then, slowly at first but gradually gaining in intensity, until he was thrusting deep and strong. And suddenly the control and the calm were gone, and our lovemaking became all passion and heat and intensity. All I could think about, all I wanted to think about, was this man and this moment. Pleasure spiraled so quickly my body was shaking with the force of it, and when my climax finally—gloriously—hit, the convulsions stole what little breath I had left and tore a strangled sound from my throat. He came a heartbeat later, his body slamming into mine, the force of it echoing through my being.