WesternWind 4 - Tears of the Reaper (29 page)

“Ironically enough, Belial skated by without as much as a slap on the wrist. He might as well have just been along for the ride,” the Prime Reaper reported.

“That’s good,” Owen said then buried his face in his hands. “Ah, shit. I really fucked up this time, boss.”

“What did you promise Morrigunia?” Arawn asked. He had to. Glyn had told him about Owen’s words as Rachel lay dead in her husband’s arms. When Owen didn’t answer, he asked instead what had happened with the Triune Goddess.

Owen shuddered, his fingers wrapped around the iron railing. “I…” He hung his head. “Just saying it makes me want to throw up.”

“You slept with Her,” Arawn said gently.

“That’s not what I would call it,” Owen said.

“I understand,” Arawn said.

Owen looked at him. “Do you?”

Their eyes locked and Arawn nodded. “All too well. It was an exacting thing, an all-invasive thing.”

Owen nodded. “Aye, invasive,” he repeated. “That’s a good word for it.”

“I am surprised She allowed you to remember it,” Arawn said.

“I’ll always remember it,” Owen said, his gaze filled with misery. “That is part of the deal I made with her.”

Arawn shook his head. “That is not good but at least it’s over.”

“No, it isn’t,” Owen said.

The Prime Reaper flinched. “What do you mean?” Arawn asked, his face pinched.

“She made it part of the bargain,” Owen said. “She’ll make me relive it every time She calls me to Her bed.”

“Calls you to Her… By the gods, what did you agree to, Owen?”

“To erase the evil done my lady, to take away the pain Rachel suffered, I had to agree to Morrigunia’s demands. I had no choice, Arawn.”

“The man who set this into motion deserved what he got?” Arawn asked.

“Her father lashed her back until it looked as bad as Cree’s. They burned her forehead with a red-hot brand that seared the letter W into her flesh and if that wasn’t enough, they removed her clitoris and sewed the folds of her vagina shut before they took her out and stoned her to death!” Owen stated.

Arawn’s face turned pale. “It is hard to imagine such evil can exist in this world.”

“I would have gladly walked through fire to ease the memory of that pain, of those horrors from Rachel’s mind. If it had been Danielle, wouldn’t you have done the same?”

“In a heartbeat,” Arawn answered without hesitation.

“And now you know why when She calls, I have to go,” Owen said. “From now until I draw my last breath, I am Her consort, at Her beck and call when the mood strikes Her.”

“Oh god,” Arawn whispered. He was feeling sick himself. He too shuddered.

“Go back inside,” Owen said. “It’s too cold out here. I’ll be in directly.”

“Does Rachel…?”

“She knows and we will deal with it,” Owen said quietly. “She’s stronger than she looks.”

Arawn straightened up. For a long time he stared unseeingly at the tracks disappearing beneath the rear of the train. His heart felt as though it had been taken out and stomped on with hobnailed boots. He ached, he hurt for Owen. He wished there was something he could do to make it better for the younger man but he saw no way to do that. At last, he put his hand on Owen’s back. There was nothing he could say that would make matters any better for the Reaper. He squeezed Owen’s shoulder then left him, feeling as inadequate as he ever had.

As Arawn made his way down the aisle of the day car, his fellow passengers were taking seats at the windows, carrying on the conversations they had started in the dining car or just sitting down to watch the passing scenery. Rachel was walking toward him, a smile twitched at her lips.

“He needs to be alone, dearling,” Arawn told her.

Rachel met his gaze unflinchingly then shook her head. “No, milord. He’s been alone too much as it is,” she replied, and continued on past him to venture out on the observation platform.

Arawn stared after her, a slight smile easing over his chiseled lips. The woman the fates had chosen for Owen was indeed strong and ideally suited for the Reaper.

“How many months did he get?” Cynyr asked, knowing that was what their boss had gone out to impart to Owen in private.

Arawn raked a hand through his dark curls. “One year.”

A gasp ran through the other Reapers—male and female.

“Arawn!” Aingeal growled, but he held up a hand to stay her complaint.

“I did everything I could to get the sentence reduced, Aingeal, but Lord Kheelan was adamant. He wants to make an object lesson of Owen and…”

“You can’t let him stay that long in the con cell,” Aingeal interrupted him. “His wife is expecting a baby!”

“I know that,” Arawn told her. “But my hands are tied. There is nothing I can do.”

“Well, there’s something I can do!” Aingeal snapped. She threw herself into the seat beside her husband, her arms crossed angrily over her breasts.

“Now, Aingeal…” Cynyr began, but when she turned a militant, warning look to him, he snapped his lips shut. There was no arguing with his she-wolf when she got that spark in her eyes.

Arawn sat down beside Danielle and heaved a long sigh. “I wish to the gods they’d let me retire,” he complained.

Danielle put a soothing hand on his thigh. “You are the best man for the job, mo shearc,” she reminded him.

Arawn closed his eyes and laid his head along the seat’s plush back. “Sometimes I wish I weren’t,” he mumbled.

“She’ll handle it,” Danielle said.

Opening his eyes, he turned his head to look at her. “How, Danni?” he asked. “If I can’t budge Lord Kheelan, how do you think she can?”

Danielle patted his thigh. “He doesn’t love you,” she said, and at his stunned blink, she nodded. “She’ll handle it. Don’t worry.”

* * * * *

Owen fussed at Rachel for coming out on the platform without a coat until she arched a brow and swept her gaze down his coatless body. He simply snorted then wrapped her in his arms. They stood there gazing at the scenery flitting by past the rear of the train and said nothing.

“Tell me the truth of it, my Owen,” she asked at last. “How long will it last and how bad will the jailing be?”

He hated to tell her but he wanted no lies between them. “One year and it will be bad.”

It wasn’t the cold wind blowing across her face that brought moisture to Rachel’s violet eyes. “They will torture you?”

“No, mo filliu bwoirryn,” he said, loving the sound of the words “my she-wolf” on his lips. “The pain will come from my withdrawal from the tenerse and Sustenance.”

Though she’d had only a couple of doses of the stinging drug, she was already coming to rely on it and the Sustenance she’d been given that morning at breakfast had eased a hunger she hadn’t even known she possessed. If only a few hours could cause such discomfort, what would an entire year do to her husband?

“What can I do?” she asked, a solitary tear tracking down her cold cheek.

“Be there for me,” he said. “And the baby.”

When he had told her she was seeded with her child, part of her had rejoiced at the news while another part worried that the babe would be healthy. They had made love then so she could wipe out all thought of the goddess and her vile demands on Owen. She had not wanted to discuss the impending birth though the thought of having her Reaper’s child had thrilled her. It was the babe’s safety that concerned her.

Finally voicing that worry to Owen after they’d made love once more—some time in the wee hours of the morning—he had assured her no Reaper boy would ever be born unhealthy for the parasite would not allow it.

“But what if it’s a girl?” she’d asked.

“It won’t be, y chree,” he’d replied. “You can only have male children.” He told her why. “The parasite will not allow a female embryo to survive for It is a jealous thing.”

For a reason she could not express to him, that erased her worries for the child. She had not wanted to bring another female into a world where men treated them as possessions.

“I will always be here for you, my Owen,” she told him. She reached for his hand. “Come inside. I have a great need to lie in your arms for a while.”

Owen hesitated for just a second. He knew when they walked back through his fellow Reapers they would know what Rachel and he would be doing when they went to their private car.

“No more than they would do if they were in our boots,” she said softly, and tightened her grip on his hand.

The walk back through the observation car did not draw one flicker of the eyes of those sitting there talking. Not one person looked up at them as Rachel and he walked down the aisle. It was almost as though they were invisible.

“Are you thinking again, my Owen?” she challenged him as they reached the door to their compartment.

“It’s a habit I guess I need to break, my Rachel,” he told her as he reached around her to open the door.

“Indeed you do,” she insisted as she preceded him into the car.

He shut the door behind them but barely had time to turn around before he felt his clothing vanish. He looked down at himself with shock then at Rachel who was grinning broadly at him.

“Danni and Aingeal told me how to do it,” she said, and waved her hand again to vanquish her own clothing in the blink of an eye.

“Those two are a menace,” Owen mumbled.

She pressed against him, her soft flesh to his hard, unyielding tautness of muscle. “Would you like to know what else they told me how to do?” she asked in a throaty tone. She swiveled her hips back and forth against his swelling cock.

He stared down at her, stunned to the very fiber of his being. This shy, Colony-bred girl who had once been afraid of her own shadow was slithering against him like a serpent in heat and where her body touched his, he was aching with desire.

“When did those two…?”

“We talked,” Rachel admitted. “Mind to mind.” She smiled. “It is very useful, as Danni says, and a mind-picture is worth a thousand words.” She turned so she leaned against the door. Then ran the sole of her bare foot along his calf muscle. “Now lift my legs and…”

She got no further for his hands went to her thighs and he grabbed her up, slinging her legs around his hips as he drove into her tight sheath with one mighty plunge, pushing her up the panel as he began to snap his hips back and forth, plunging into her with force that made the door rattle, his buttock muscles flexing tightly.

“They’ll hear us!” she cautioned.

“I don’t give a warthog’s pecker if they do. Let them!” he growled through tightly clenched teeth. He was ramming into her as hard as he could, taking charge of the moment she had started and intent on keeping the upper hand with this brazen little piece of heaven.

“You wish,” she whispered in his ear, her fingers threaded through his thick hair as she slanted her mouth over his to take the kiss he gladly offered.

Their tongues dueled as he thrust into her with wild abandon. His thigh muscles contracted and released, contracted and released and his cock was like a trip hammer pounding into her hot wetness. Her inner muscles were squeezing him and when he felt the beginning of her climax, he shoved hard and deep inside her and held it as he experienced the ripple after ripple of delight that wove through her channel.

“Owen!” she hissed, her fingernails grazing his scalp as she took his mouth more to smother his own wild cry when he came.

It felt as though he would explode as he shot into her velvet warmth. The cum was thick and copious and it left him drained far worse than on that last night in the hotel. He barely had the strength and energy to turn with her and fall to the bunk, rolling so she was beside him, encaged in arms that refused to allow her to leave them.

“My Owen?” she questioned, smoothing the damp hair from his forehead.

“Aye, love?” he replied. His eyelids were growing heavy with contentment.

“I want you to eat me,” she said out of the blue as they lay there heaving.

His eyes flew open. “Rachel!” he said on a gasp of breath. Staring down at her with utter disbelief. “Where did you…?”

“Aingeal says…”

“Shush, wench!” he ordered, his eyes narrowing. “I see I need to have a talk with Cynyr and Arawn!”

She snuggled against him. “That’s okay. I’ll be talking to Aingeal and Danni when you do.”

Chapter Sixteen

When the train pulled into the station at the base of the fortified mountain upon which sat the imposing five-sided building of the Citadel at the end of the week, a light misting rain was falling and the waves of the ocean beyond were dark gunmetal gray.

Coaches were lined up at the station to take the passengers up the twisting roadway to the Citadel and the first one to leave carried the Gehdrins and the Crees. The second to leave carried the Tohres, Glyn and Iden, the third for the rest of their group. The silence in the coaches was palpable. Owen sat with his fingers entwined with Rachel’s, his gaze out the window at the destruction that had been wrought during the Burning War.

“Why do they not clean that up?” Rachel asked Glyn. “The Shadowlords, I mean.”