The Turn: The Hollows Begins With Death Page 18

  His eyes had gone distant in memory, and Trisk tucked her hair back and leaned forward. She’d heard there were a few families that still ran the Hunt, but it was harder every year with the population of humans growing larger. “A real Hunt?” she asked, and he finally looked up. “With hounds and a fox?”

  He nodded, oddly silent. “Most times,” he finally said. “We hunted a wolf once. It got away after mauling a handful of hounds. Every year my parents invite different people, but there’s a core that doesn’t change. Extended family, almost.” He leaned back, glass in his hand. “They come from all over the world. If Christmas and a business meeting had a baby, that’s the Hunt. People stay the entire week. I remember one year when the moon was full and the skies clear.” He took a sip, gaze vacant. “Honestly, I could have ridden forever, hounds or not.”

  Trisk was silent, watching the memory ease his shoulders and soften his face. He was almost a different person. In her entire school career, she had exchanged perhaps no more than a hundred words with him. Why was he so different now?

  “Do you ride?” he asked suddenly, jerking her back to the present.

  “Sure.” Head down, she wiggled a pineapple chunk free. “I got a horse for my fourteenth birthday,” she said. “She was an old mare no one wanted, but she was mine. Before that, it was whatever was available at the stables, and trust me, no one offered me the easy horse.”

  She looked up, faltering at his wide-eyed expression. “I never had a favorite. I mean,” she said to try to cover up her bitterness. “I like horses, but to be totally one with one?” She shrugged. “It never happened,” she lied. It had happened. It had happened a lot, but with many horses, not one special one. They all needed her.

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Kal said faintly.

  “Until I got Ruth, I’d always take out the most cantankerous horse,” she said, uncrossing and recrossing her legs. The wind coming in the barn door was pleasant, and the wine had brightened her mood. “The one no one wanted to ride because it would try to brush you off on the trees or roll on you? Every stable has one.”

  “Why?” Kal asked, and she sipped her wine, thinking it tasted better with the pineapple.

  “I felt sorry for them,” she said, almost laughing. “Stuck in the barn while all the other horses got to go out with their little blond goddesses. I learned to read them pretty fast, but still, the stable’s supervisor thought I was nuts when I kept coming back either without my horse or with scrapes and bruises—or both.” Pineapple chunk in hand, she pointed at Kal with her pinkie. “But my dad. He told them to give me the horse I wanted. By the time I was twelve, I could ride every single horse in the stables.” She slumped, an elbow on a bare knee. “It didn’t make me any friends,” she whispered. Except for the horses, that is.

  “That settles it,” Kal said, startling her. “You have got to come riding with me. Maybe for the Hunt. My parents would love to meet the woman who engineered the fuzzy tomato now feeding the third world.”

  Trisk froze, the memory of their cold looks, their disdain at presentation filling her as Kal topped off her glass. “I’ve met your parents,” she finally said, and Kal’s breath caught.

  “Oh. Yes. Right. Sorry,” he said, wincing as he rubbed the stubble on his narrow chin. “They didn’t make much of a first impression, did they. Presentation is kind of stressful in the best of situations, and I did bust the chandelier.” His expression pained, he stared at his wineglass. “They billed my parents. Did you know that? Seeing as the only magic residue was from Quen and myself, and Quen was officially working for my folks.” He chuckled. “The charm on it was almost as expensive as my entire schooling.”

  Head tilted back, he downed his glass. “I don’t think I ever hated anyone more than you that day when your dad gave you a hug, and mine gave me derision.”

  Shocked, Trisk fumbled, finally managing, “Sorry.” She’d eaten all her pineapple, but she didn’t want to take any more and look greedy. Fidgety, she rocked on the bale of straw as the silence grew, watching the moon through the open door and wondering how she could make a tactful exit. There was a ring around it. A storm was coming.

  “I have something I want you to have,” Kal said, his soft voice breaking the uncomfortable silence as he stretched for his suit coat and fumbled in a pocket. “I was going to wait—put it on a ribbon or something—but I want to give it to you now.”

  Trisk felt her expression become slack. “What?” she asked, the wine in her turning sour.

  His mood was hard to read as he looked at his closed hand, head low. “This is going to sound weird, but I feel as if I’ve gotten to know you better in these last couple of weeks than I get to know most women after months. I don’t want you to freak out, or think this means more than it does. Just. Here.” He held out his hand, palm side down. “This is for you. If you want it. Maybe it will make you feel better about leaving Global Genetics.”

  Feeling unreal, she put her hand out. Is he serious? she thought, then blinked when a key fell into it.

  “You can keep it until you want to use it,” Kal said, shifting to sit beside her, hunched and uneasy. “Or never use it. I just want you to feel welcome. That’s all.”

  She looked at the gold key in her palm. The edges felt sharp against her fingers. It had just been cut. She could still smell the oil on it.

  “You’re not saying anything,” Kal blurted. “Oh God. You think I’m a jerk.”

  She looked up, the vulnerability in his eyes giving her pause. “It’s a key,” she managed.

  “To my house in Florida,” he said, taking her free hand. “Damn it, I’m doing this all wrong. Trisk, I got you an interview at Kennedy, and you said yes, and I’m thrilled. But to be honest, I didn’t do it just because you’re one of the best genetic engineers I’ve ever had the privilege to work with. I want you to come back with me because I don’t want to lose you.”

  Her pulse was fast, and she couldn’t seem to wrap her mind around what he was proposing. “This is to your house?”

  He nodded, inching closer. “It’s set off the ocean about a mile or so, with a walled garden. It’s not twenty-five acres, but it’s nice, and like I said, there’s a stable ten minutes away. Orchid will probably come back with us if she doesn’t find a buck. Or she might bring him with her if she does. I don’t know. Damn it, this wasn’t supposed to be such a big deal,” he said, his features pinched. “I just wanted to let you know you could move in with me if you were comfortable with the idea.” He hesitated, his fingers falling from hers. “You want me to take my key back? Maybe I should go.”

  Trisk closed her fingers over the key. She had gone into this with the intent to hurt him, and though the pain was still there, it was getting harder to justify layering it on him in turn. “No,” she said. She didn’t know what she wanted to do anymore. He wants me to move in with him? she thought. If it had been a ring, she would have kicked him out knowing it was one of his nasty ploys, but this stumbling confession and awkward admission . . . “I’ll keep it, if that’s okay,” she added, not knowing why, except that she was hurting, and this made the hurt less.

  His expression was relieved when she glanced up, and she managed a smile.

  “Sure. Yes,” he said. “God, yes! That’s why I wanted you to have it.” Kal exhaled, looking at her hand but clearly not sure he had the right to take it. “Wow, that was awkward. I didn’t mean for this to be such a big deal. Maybe I should leave.”

  Trisk touched his hand and pulled back. “Kal, it’s fine.” On the radio, the music changed to “Deep Purple,” April Stevens’s sweet voice mingling with Nino Tempo’s in an innocent and charming expression of endearment, and Trisk smiled, curving her legs under her, up and off the floor as she tucked his key into her purse.

  “It’s just the key to my house,” he said, as if trying to reassure himself. “Three thousand miles away,” he continued, looking at the stables, wine, dessert, and her sitting there with her feet curled up under her on a ba
le of straw. “Just shoot me now, okay? I didn’t mean for this to be so romantic. I simply didn’t want to drive away and have the night be over.”

  She laughed, not wanting him to feel like he’d done anything wrong. “ ‘Deep Purple’?” she said, kidding him. “That’s your idea of romance? It might be romantic for my dad. I think it’s older than him, for sure.”

  Kal sat glumly beside her, elbows on his knees as he stared at nothing. “Now you’re poking fun at me.”

  “Am I?” she said, sipping her wine, feeling it ease the pain a little more.

  “Come on. Stand up,” Kal said suddenly, rising to extend a hand to her. “I’ll show you how romantic ‘Deep Purple’ can be.”

  “Without shoes?” she said, eyes wide. “Besides, you can’t dance to this.”

  “You can,” he insisted. “Come on. Up. It’s my party.”

  “Kal,” she protested as he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. His slight build seemed a lot taller without heels, and she tensed, her eyes at his upper chest as he fitted his slim hand in hers and coaxed her into a box shuffle. His body was warm against hers, and she watched his shoes, nervous he might step on her. But he never did, and slowly she began to relax.

  “See, I know romance,” Kal said defensively, and she looked up, smiling at him.

  “Okay,” she admitted. “You can dance to it. I’ll give you that.”

  But the music changed to something soulful and soft. Uneasy, she loosened her grip, but Kal tightened his, and her eyes shot to him as their motions slowed but didn’t stop. She felt good here, the wine relaxing her, and the feeling of an old hurt being set aside was soothing, even if she would have to pick it back up in the morning. Beyond the open barn door, the moon rose higher, spilling light upon them.

  Kal’s chest touched hers as she took a deep breath, and she felt him breathe her in. Tentatively, carefully, she let her head fall against his shoulder. What am I doing?

  “I’m sorry for everything I did to you at school,” Kal said, his voice rumbling into her with the soft presence of distant thunder.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she whispered, not looking up as they moved as one.

  “It was wrong of me, all the way around. I’m sorry for being such an idiot. And I’m really sorry for spelling your hair white in fifth grade. That was cruel.”

  She looked up, stifling a shiver as his hand brushed across her hair. “I forgot about that years ago,” she said.

  “Liar,” he said with a smile. “You have beautiful hair. Soft, silky.” He ran his hand through it again, and she froze when he leaned in to kiss her behind her ear. “It’s a crime to change this,” he murmured.

  They were no longer moving. An ache filled her, an ache to be accepted for who she was. “What are you doing?” she said softly, and his lips stopped.

  “You’re right.” He pulled back, expression troubled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

  Trisk reached up and pulled his face down to hers. Excitement zinged through her as their lips touched, and she drew back, meeting his eyes. “Keep doing that no-thinking thing,” she said as she leaned in to find him again.

  Their kiss deepened, warm and tasting of wine and pineapple. She made a small sound of encouragement when his hand fell to touch her thigh, his fingers rising past the hem of her dress before lingering to send shivers through her. He didn’t go nearly high enough, but her coming complaint vanished when his grip tightened and he pulled her into him with his other hand.

  Her smile ruined their kiss, and she looked at him, knowing her gaze smoldered with heat. He was as domineering as she’d expected him to be, so she’d be just as demanding, and he grunted in surprise when she twined a leg around his, pressing into him while pulling his face to hers, lips hungry as they searched him out. Why not? I’m a free woman. It’s the freaking sixties.

  It had been so long, and even then, it hadn’t been satisfying as it had not been with the man she’d wanted. Chances were, this would end much differently.

  Her hands brushed his shoulders, and she sent them lower, pressing the small of his back. Lips breaking from his, she found his ears, neck, whatever she could reach. His stubble pricked against her, and she delighted in it until he broke their kiss.

  “I gave you a key, not a ring,” he said, his eyes eager but cautious.

  “And I’ve not yet told you if I’m going to use it. Why are you thinking again?” she asked, pulling him down to one of the covered bales of straw, sitting atop his lap to put their heights even. He kissed her, and she laced her hands behind his head, fingers in his hair as his hand traced a delicious path up her waist until he cupped her breast. His head dropped, and she moaned as he found her with his lips.

  Passion raced through her, but he was going too slow, and when he returned to her mouth, she shifted her weight, grasping him and flipping him down onto the straw-bale table where she sat atop him. There was a clatter of the Jell-O mold hitting the floor, followed by the thump of the radio. The music turned to a static hiss, and she smiled at his surprise melting into anticipation.

  “You might be shocked at what they teach you in Self-Defense 101,” she said as she loosened his tie. She was intending to undo his shirt next.

  “Trisk, this is my best suit,” he complained, his hands gripping her waist sending a delicious tingle racing through her when he sent his fingers higher to find her breast, moving in ever-smaller circles.

  She pulled the tie from him, looping it loosely around her own neck. “I never liked this suit,” she said as she started on the buttons next. “You look better in the gray one.”

  “I’m not going to roll around in a barn in my best suit,” he protested as he kissed her.

  She moved her lips against him, their scents mingling with the heat of their bodies rising. Trisk shifted to his ear. “Then take it off,” she said succinctly. Yes, he had made her life hell, but that he was here now, wanting her, was empowering. And my God, he is so beautiful.

  His arm curved possessively about her, and she gasped when, with a sudden motion, he flipped her up and around, and their positions were reversed. Her shock vanished, and she smiled up at him. “Dr. Kalamack!” she protested coyly, but her hands were now free to tug his shirt out from his slacks.

  “Don’t give me that,” he said, leaning over her. His kisses became savage, with gentle teeth worrying her flesh and sending jolts through her, making her gasp for more. Finally she got his shirt off, and she sent her hands over his smooth abdomen, wanting to feel him over her, in her, around her, suffusing her with feeling. Mine, this will be mine, she thought, wanting it all.

  His hands slipped up her thigh, under her dress, searching. She rose up under him, her lips hungry at his neck as her hands found his belt, and then his zipper.

  Kal sighed at his new freedom, then gasped, jerking when she ran her hand along his length as she let a whisper of ley line energy jump from her to him.

  “Sorry,” she said breathlessly, smoothly shifting her hands lower, cupping him, tracing his outlines. “I won’t do it again.”

  Kal’s head dropped, and she quivered when he nibbled her breast again, lips both harsh and soft. She groaned in frustration when his mouth left her, only to play about her ear. “You surprised me is all,” he said, his voice husky. “Most times, I’m the one with the ley line finesse.”

  “Is that—oh God!” she exclaimed when he sent a surge of line energy through her. Writhing, she shuddered as the connection faded. Breathless, she met his eyes, and they hesitated as they contemplated the options. Mixing sex and ley line energy elevated the experience, but if you didn’t know what you were doing, it was also dangerous. It had been a considerable amount of power, and she was beginning to get a better idea of why all those women had followed him through school.

  This, I have to have, she thought as a slow smile crossed her face, and she lightly traced his abs when he drew down the straps of her dress from first her left shoulder, then her right, pulling them
low until the breeze from the open door made her shiver. She let the barest whisper of line energy flow from her moving fingers to him, and his eyes flicked to hers, having felt it. Sometimes it was the lightest touch that got the strongest reaction, and he trembled as her hands drifted up to clasp behind his head and she drew him to her. “Never been with anyone who’s taken a four-hundred-level security course, eh?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t go as far as to say—” His eyes widened, and he groaned as the slim trace of energy blossomed into a torrent that matched his own earlier wash. Gasping, his head dropped, his lips finding her again.

  Her back arched as his energies flowed into her once more, the two patterns warring with each other in an exquisite pleasure/pain that blinded them to all else. Wild with desire, she reached for him, almost frantic as she slipped her panties off and guided him in, even as they began to move together.

  He was a glorious sensation suffusing her. She could feel him inside her, feel him over her, feel his energies mixing with hers in a delicious battle. His mouth on hers, they rose and fell, each straining for that perfect moment, knowing it was there, desperate for it.

  Wild with need, she clutched him to her as their passions grew stronger, deeper, the energies more complex as they stirred them together, chiming to a still point.

  “Now,” she moaned, feeling the sharp edge of it. “Oh God. Now.”

  With a guttural groan of release, Kal clutched her, a wave of sensation spilling into her. Ecstasy washed over her, and she climaxed as well, wave after wave of it until the last ebbed to a soft hush and she could breathe again.

  Kal’s breath was fast as he held himself over her. Eyes open, she took him in during an unguarded moment, his expression soft. He smiled at her, and she liked what she saw. What am I doing? she thought, then answered herself. Having a damn good time. Shut up, Trisk. There’s nothing left for you here.