Chapter 22
1572 Words
Well, this old guy came out wearing a Red Sox baseball cap, no less; he was the owner. I found this necklace—”
“How?”
“What?”
“How did you find the necklace?”
“Oh. It was under a bunch of boxes in the rear of the store. The guy with the baseball cap asked me if I really wanted to buy—”
“What made you look under the boxes?”
She shrugged. “I don’t really know. I remember having a feeling there might be something good under there—”
“Aha!” Yaniff snapped his fingers.
“What aha?”
“There it is! The Shimalee sang to you.”
“It did no such thing.”
“Who is to say? You see the terrible series of events which happened to you that day as coincidences; I see them as interconnected events. The disruption of the continuity of your life was heralded by the Shimalee coming to you.”
“Are you trying to tell me that all the rotten things that happened to me on that day happened because this Shimalee thing was preparing to make a presence in my life?”
“Just so. It was singing to you, disrupting your life line. Once you had the Shimalee in your possession, it plucked Lorgin out of the space/time continuum, depositing him in your vicinity. Remember, the Shimalee bends dimensions; the corridor of time and space opened between the two of you, bringing you together. You see? It is the Prophecy.”
“What a crock!”
“You think so?” Yaniff asked innocently.
“Believe me, I know I’m not this woman! A man like Lorgin would never—Oh, Yaniff you must believe me!”
“I believe that you believe what you are saying.”
Tears ran down her cheeks. “You have to believe me, Yaniff!”
She was very agitated. Yaniff took her hands in his. “Why is it so important that I believe you, child?”
“Be-because I want you to send me home!”
Yaniff raised his eyebrows. “I see.” He gazed knowingly upon her bent head, watching the tears track down her cheeks. She needed his guidance, that much was obvious.
“Why did you not say so at once?” he admonished her gently. Deana’s head snapped up.
“You’ll help me?”
“Of course.” His crafty eyes observed her. “I will send you now.” He made to rise.
“Wait!”
Yaniff feigned surprise. “What is it? You said you wish to leave.”
“Yes, but…not now.”
“Ah.” The wizard sat down.
“I mean—I have to say good-bye to…to…everyone,” she pleaded with him. “I—you will send me home later, won’t you?”
“Whenever you are ready. But surely you will wish to abandon us soon?”
She fidgeted in her seat. “Well…now that I know I can go back, I suppose there’s no harm in seeing the quest through.”
Yaniff sipped his mir. “And what quest would that be?”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“There are many quests surrounding you, Adeeann. There is Lorgin’s quest for the Alliance, Traed’s quest for his lost destiny, Rejar’s quest, not yet begun, but soon, soon…And then, there is your quest.”
“My quest?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have a quest.”
Yaniff did not respond.
Deana observed the mystic carefully. In the time she had known him, she had never heard Yaniff utter an idle statement. She peered at him sideways. “I do?”
He smiled slightly. “Yes, you do.”
Damn! “So, like, what is it?”
“That, you will have to figure out for yourself. Although I will tell you this: best you figure it out soon, for it is almost at its end.”
Yaniff’s cryptic words followed her as she ran the entire distance back to the strength of Lorgin’s arms.
She found him sprawled on the grass in the middle of the flower garden, wearing nothing but his black leather pants.
He was fast asleep.
His deep, even breaths told her he hadn’t heard the low chimes signaling her return. Deana had never seen him so relaxed.
And why shouldn’t he be? After all, this was his home.
Deana was startled to realize that even though they had been sharing a bed for quite some time, this was the first time she had actually seen him asleep. Always, in the past, he had awakened before she did, alert and controlled.
It was strange to see him looking so vulnerable, lying there in the tazmin flowers, his long golden hair spread out across the carpet of blossoms.
He seemed so at peace. His thick black lashes formed two perfect crescents against his cheekbones; his firm, sensitive mouth was slightly parted. It was an incredibly handsome face.
One richly muscled arm was thrown carelessly above his head, unknowingly displaying his perfectly delineated chest for her inspection. Here was raw strength at rest…He looked golden and powerful, like some great jungle cat napping in the sun after a successful hunt.
The laces near the waistband of his pants had loosened, causing his pants to gape intriguingly, further adding to her impression of sensual vulnerability.
Her gaze moved down.
No vulnerability here, she admitted, noting the bulge between his thighs. Even at rest, this part of him was impressive. Armed and dangerous. Waiting to strike.
He shifted in his sleep, bringing the arm he had tossed over his head back down to his side, his hand falling to curve lightly against his stomach.
He was such a beautiful man.
Not just his form, she realized, but him. His kindness and control. His sense of humor. His intelligence. His genuine concern for those he cared about. His joy in passion. And, yes, she hesitated to admit, even his arrogance.
She would miss him terribly when this was over.
Deana had never met a man who made her feel more alive.
Frankly, she wanted him desperately. Now. Inside of her. All of him.
In the countless times they had made love, Deana had never taken the initiative. She never had the chance.
That was about to change, she decided recklessly.
Now that Yaniff had given her the ability to choose when to return home, somehow their relationship felt different. Lorgin did not hold all the cards anymore, and she was about to point that out to him in her not-so-subtle way. Surprise, Lorgin.
Quietly, so as not to awaken him, she slipped her caftan over her head, draping it on a nearby bench. She shook the ribbons out of her hair, letting the long red tresses fall free around her.
Silently she knelt down beside him, sitting on her haunches among the fragrant flowers. Even though they were not touching, she could feel the warmth from his body next to her.
His clean sandalwood scent caressed her nostrils as she bent over him.
Ever so softly, she pressed her lips against the strong column of his throat, where his vital pulse beat rhythmically.
His eyelids fluttered.
Chapter Eighteen
“Mmm…Adeeann.”
His voice was a lazy rasp of velvet.
Still in the aftergrip of sleep, he wrapped his arm casually around her waist, bringing her down to lie next to him. Holding her securely in his arms, he nuzzled his chin against the top of her head and promptly drifted back to sleep.
Oh, no, Lorgin. I have quite a time in store for you and napping isn’t on the agenda.
Moving up in his arms, she let the tip of her tongue touch the little indentation under his beautifully sculpted lower lip.
He stirred beneath her.
She draped her leg over his thighs, fastening her open mouth against his throat.
His eyes opened a fraction.
Her lips leisurely traveled down to his collarbone, taking tiny sips of his skin.
His hands suddenly splayed powe
rfully against the bareness of her back.
She froze, looking up at him. After all, this was Lorgin. She wasn’t quite sure how he was going to react to her aggression.
He silently regarded her for several moments through slitted eyes, which were starting to incandescently spark beneath his lowered lids. As if he had made a decision of some kind, he firmly lifted her chin with a bent finger, bringing her mouth down to his own.
The kiss was a controlled, guarded exchange. He made no move to deepen it, or intensify it. Deana read his message loud and clear; she could almost hear his bold voice in her mind: If you wish this to go further, zira, you had better see to it.
All right, so he was allowing her free reign.
Admittedly, it took some of the control, okay, a lot of the control away from her. Just a couple of months ago, she would have balked at the very notion of him “allowing” her to take the helm. She recognized the oxymoron, but somehow, with a man like Lorgin, it seemed…appropriate.
He was too strong, too arrogant, too male.
- Writer
