Traveller's Refuge (6 page)

Dai and Wolfe entered the kitchen through the back door. While Wolfe set the kettle on the fire, Dai arranged some dried
quoltanias
, honeyed
pocco
nuts, rich orange
rowan
cheese and thin smoked
hopper
slices on a platter. Wolfe took out a fresh plate of
barbahla
bread and sliced off several narrow breadsticks to add to the platter. The entire preparation of the impromptu lunch was completed in total but companionable silence. When everything was ready, food, plates and utensils and tea, the men sat down and began filling their plates. Wrenna took some of the small wrinkled blue
quoltanias
, a thick slice of cheese and two breadsticks and absently chewed while she waited for Dai to say what was on his mind. To her surprise, it was Wolfe, not Dai, who launched the first sally.

“You spoke to Traveller?” he inquired abruptly.

“Yes. Briefly.”

“And? What was his reaction?” Dai asked curiously.

“He seemed very suspicious. Very stressed. He mentioned something about shadows and said he had to go.” She shrugged. “I don’t think he quite understood what I was explaining about the bonding.”

Wolfe studied her puzzled expression for a moment and then observed, “But you had no trouble speaking to him, correct?”

“No,” she admitted very softly. “I had no trouble speaking to him. He asked how he could speak to Dancer. Since I’ve never known any time that I couldn’t speak to my sibs, I told him that. I believe he might try to reach Dancer.”

Dai stared down at his plate as he thought about the possibilities. “He might not be able to reach Dancer until he’s in the valley,” Dai said slowly. “It may be that only bond mates can communicate through the veil between the outside and here. If he’s anything like Dancer, that may frustrate or even anger him. Trust, for them both, is a difficult issue.”

“Under the circumstances, I’m astounded that he even replied. Although,” Wrenna added thoughtfully, “I think I caught him by surprise. What are these shadows he mentioned?”

Dai chewed and swallowed before explaining, “Traveller and Dancer were being pursued by a powerful group of men intent on killing them. Your papa told me that Trav and Dance knew secrets that these men would kill to keep. I believe Trav’s shadows are probably some of the men pursuing him. If so, he is in serious danger.”

Wolfe got up to refill their tea mugs. “You said that you don’t believe he understood about the bonding. What exactly did you tell him?”

Wrenna repeated the conversation verbatim, including the vague emotional impressions she’d received. “He blocked me out quite easily. If it’s his first experience with mind speech, he’s a fast learner.”

Tilting his head to hide a smile, Dai bit back a laugh. Oh, his grandsons were definitely quick. According to Dancer, Trav was the more inventive of the two of them. If Dai had not experienced living with Jade and Merlyn, he might have been surprised at the intelligence and original thinking of the out-valley people. But after living with them over the last twenty-five years, nothing much surprised him.

“What’s so funny?” Wrenna asked suspiciously.

“Not a thing.” Dai stood and carried his plate to the sink. “When you talk to Traveller again, you might want to explain a bit more about the bonding and
schalzina
.”

“He’s a complete stranger to me. If you think I’m going to tell him we need to bond so we can have sex—”

“Better that he knows ahead of time, don’t you think?” Wolfe took a hearty bite of cheese while she thought it over. By the time he’d chewed and swallowed, she still hadn’t come up with an answer, so he stuffed the remaining
quoltanias
in his mouth and got up to carry his plate to the sink. Dai had already finished clearing the table, except for Wrenna’s plate and mug and Wolfe’s.

Finally with a deep sigh, Wrenna admitted, “I suppose I’ll have to explain
schalzina
but it’s so difficult to talk to a virtual stranger about it.”

“You haven’t begun to know difficult,” Wolfe replied with remarkable restraint. “Your bond mate hasn’t been raped and abused and is not enslaved. You have a reasonable expectation that Traveller will find a way to come to the valley. Until Raven escapes, I don’t even have a hope.”

Deeply ashamed of her whining, Wrenna blushed a pale shade of lavender. “You are right, Wolfe. I’m sorry.”

“Be happy that you will be with your bond mate soon.” With that last admonition, he left her alone in the kitchen with Dai.

The old healer sighed. “I could wish that Wolfe was not so aware of Raven but it would serve no purpose. It grieves him that he cannot save her.”

“I know.”

“Your parents are coming home for Mid-Summer. I think I will go back to my retreat after the picnic and fair. I’m not as young as I used to be and watching over the younglings is more tiring than I remembered.”

She laughed at his puzzled expression. “You just don’t know how to deal with Panther and Llynx. They encourage each other in their antics. What one doesn’t think of the other is sure to.”

“One can only hope that when they are older, all that excess energy will be a service to the valley,” Dai retorted, before leaving her alone to her uncomfortable reflections in the cool kitchen.

Chapter Five

Trav crouched in the dark, dank basement of an abandoned building and pondered the odd exchange with the strange woman who called herself Wrenna. Her assertion that Dancer was living in her valley, “bonded” with her sister, was startling. The other items they’d discussed were just plain weird.

Mind speech?
Attachment
? And that oath-binding ritual shit? The only reason he was wasting his time mulling it all over was her use of the code word
dragon
. What puzzled him was the fact that she didn’t use the entire phrase. That alone told him that Dancer had some reservations. Otherwise she would have used some variation that included all three words—
sunrise
,
dragon
and
summer
.

Abruptly, he was very anxious to follow Dancer and discover for himself exactly what was happening. Before he could do that, he needed to put the finishing touches on his plan. There were certain items he needed—such as a reliable heavy-duty-four wheel drive vehicle—plus, his plan called for a hostage—to keep the ever-inventive Free. Llewellyn off his back. He knew exactly where to get everything he required in one place. His good buddy, Bishop Llewellyn, would be the perfect hostage and he just happened to own the perfect vehicle. In his secret basement the other requirements for the plan were concealed behind a hidden door. Yeah, Bishop would be perfect.

First though, he needed to arrange for his plan to be leaked to Free Llewellyn. It didn’t require much thought to choose the perfect weasel. Every organization had one. In Free’s organization, that person was Paullie. Five minutes after he acquired new information, Paullie the Weasel would be sitting in Free’s office spilling his guts.

So before he visited Bishop, he needed to have a short chat with Paullie. Trav pressed the button on his illuminating watch face and noted the time.
Four a
.
m
.
Perfect
. He eased from his hiding place and set off. Time was a-wasting.

* * * * *

The swish of wet tires and the intermittent tapping of bare windblown tree limbs on the window were brief distractions for the bored man lying spread-eagled on the wide bed. Perched on her heels between his legs, Tiffany sat back in irritation and demanded, “What’s the problem?”

“What problem?” Bishop drawled with faint amusement. “You havin’ a problem down there, baby?”

“Dammit, Bish, you know what I’m talking about! I’ve been sucking your cock until my lips are numb and nothing’s happening!” Tiffany threw herself down next to Bish with her back to him and pouted.

“Ah, come on, babe,” he coaxed, patting her pert butt absently. “You aren’t just going to give up, are you?”

“What about me?” she muttered petulantly. “I’m horny!”

His blue eyes narrowed and darkened as he contemplated her huddled form. “Name one time that you’ve gone home dissatisfied, Tiff.”

“Never mind.”

“I don’t think so. You complained about my performance and then you implied that I don’t satisfy you. What is
your
problem?” he queried with dangerous gentleness.

She knew that tone very well and hastily sought to allay his rising annoyance. She was so not in the mood to spend the day tied to his bed. “It’s nothing, nothing. I’m just sick of this weather.”

“Really.” He rolled from the bed, stretched until his joints popped and yawned. “You know, Tiff, I do believe I’ve been neglecting you,” he said thoughtfully, studying her tousled brown curls and sleepy eyes. “You were right to bring that to my attention.”

Tiffany turned over on the bed to face the tall broad-shouldered man standing proudly naked next to the bed, wariness and alarm flittering across her face. For a man who lived on the very generous trust fund a great-uncle had left him and who supposedly never lifted a finger if he didn’t have to, Bishop Llewellyn was remarkably fit. There were quite a few people, including his father, which would have been very interested in the secret rooms he maintained in the townhouse next door. The complete gym, extensive library and high-tech-filled office would have amazed the bored men and women assigned to watch him. As far as they could tell, he never left his townhouse even to shop for groceries. The occasional party didn’t count, of course.

“Bish, I said it’s just the weather!” Tiffany protested. “Never mind.”

With a light shrug, he turned away and pulled on a light robe. “First we’ll have breakfast, then a nice warm soak in the tub…” his mutters trailed off as he strode out into the dim hallway and down the stairs to the living room.

With an abrupt new burst of energy, Tiffany leaped from the bed and grabbed up her own robe on the way out of the room. “Bish? You’re cooking?” she shouted as she shuffled her slippers on, hopping from one foot to the other and struggling with the crumpled fabric around the heels. By the time she got down to the kitchen, Bishop had an interesting selection of items from the refrigerator arrayed on the counter and was tapping his bristly chin with one long finger in contemplation. “Bish,” she protested breathlessly as she catalogued his selections in one lightning-quick glance, “I don’t mind cooking. Just tell me what you want to eat.” He was pleased to hear her voice was thick with apprehension as she studied his choices. He knew she would be wondering what kind of breakfast you put together with mandarin orange slices, whipped cream, dill pickles and pepperoni slices?

“No, no,” he assured her with a negligent wave of his hand. “I can manage. You just sit on the other side of the breakfast bar and relax.”

“I’ll just make coffee first,” she suggested as she sidled around him and headed for the coffeemaker in the corner.

He snagged one long arm around her waist, lifted her up and set her on the counter with her robe spread around her and her bare butt on the cold surface. Before she had a chance to regroup, he had captured both hands, wrapped his belt from his robe around them and tied her arms securely to the cabinet handle above her head. “I’ve noticed that you don’t follow directions very well,” he observed absently as he turned back to his motley collection of food. “And for some very strange reason, you apparently believe that I’m incapable of feeding myself. I got along quite well before I met you.”

Wisely, she kept her mouth shut.

“My main problem is deciding what to do with you for the next few days,” he explained carefully. “I can’t just let you go home. The first thing you’ll do is call my father and quite frankly, I don’t want to see him—or talk to him—until I’m sure that Traveller got safely away.” He shot her a hard look. “You can save your efforts, you know. I’m quite aware that my father planted you on me. I hope you’re well paid for the job.”

“I don’t know your father,” she sneered as she tried to yank her restraint loose. “Does he usually have to find a girlfriend or fuck-buddy for you?”

He picked up the whipped cream and shook it vigorously. Over the clack-clack of the little ball bouncing around in the can, he said dispassionately, “That would account for you having lunch with him two weeks ago and again last Tuesday. It would also explain your sudden urgent appointment with Margo for a wax job on your pussy. I’m quite sure my father explained my preferences.” With a little nod, he popped the cap off the can and sprayed fluffy whipped cream around her left nipple with careful precision. After studying his work for a moment, he gave another nod and decorated her other nipple in the same way.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded coolly.

“Fixing breakfast.” He stepped back and looked her in the eye. “Spread your legs.”

“Jerk!”

He tapped one knee with the can. “Come on, baby. Open up. You know how much you like it when I lick your pussy and clit.”

“Asshole!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll lick that too, if you like. I’m hearing a lot of trash talk but the one word I haven’t heard yet is ‘no’,” he pointed out in a bored tone. “You know the rules. Now spread your legs wide open, or I’ll do it for you—and if I do it, I’ll make sure they stay that way.”

Experience had taught her it was no idle threat, so she shot him a dirty look and spread her knees until he could comfortably fit his wide shoulders between them. He yanked one of the kitchen chairs close, turned it around so that he straddled it and shoved it against the counter. When he was comfortable, he lowered his mouth until his lips brushed her bare mound. Suddenly, he sat back and said, “Almost forgot!” With a flourish, he decorated her with whipped cream. A quick snap of his fingers and he was up and heading for the refrigerator. Seconds later he returned with a large jar of red cherries, the bowl of orange slices and a small canister of shredded coconut. “Yummy, yummy,” he said with a devilish grin as he sat back down and made himself comfortable.

It took him a while to arrange his booty to his satisfaction but once he had everything ready, he leaned into her crotch to take a long lick, curling his tongue at the end as he reached her clit. He felt her jolt when fiery sensation shot up her spine but knew she would refuse to give him the reaction he was looking for as long as possible. She didn’t disappoint him, inquiring instead with cool sarcasm, “What? No chocolate sauce?”