****
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there under the stars, surrounded by the exotic fragrances of River’s plants and flowers, and engrossed in my thoughts, before Ian came up. An hour, perhaps two. I heard the roof door creak and, without looking, knew that it was Ian. River had already been up once to bring me a blanket and a pot of chamomile tea. She promised not to let anyone bother me until I was ready to come down. Like the pinky-swear, the rooftop sanctuary was sacred in our family. Pinky had always encouraged us to deal with our problems together, as a family. But it was understood that sometimes we needed a little alone time, so Rooftop Sanctuary had been created. Whenever any of us needed some time alone, we just went up to River’s garden and shut the door. We were allowed up to four hours of complete alone time. The only person allowed to break Sanctuary was River, and that was because it would break her heart if she couldn’t bring food, drink, and love to whichever one of us was hurting, angry, or confused.
I knew Ian wouldn’t know, or care, about Sanctuary, and no one downstairs would be able to keep him from coming up to me, if they even dared to try. It was funny how I could be so sure about that after a few days of a relationship, but I did. Nothing would keep him from me tonight, not after everything that had happened today. He would want to comfort me, though I didn’t think there was any comfort to be had.
I didn’t move as he approached and sat beside me on the blanket I’d spread out across the dirty floor. He didn’t touch me, just sat quietly next to me, as if waiting for me to either break the silence or give him a sign that I wanted him there or wanted him to leave. We sat like that, both of us watching the stars, for a long time before I finally spoke.
“Did you find anything useful at Rangel’s apartment?” I asked, careful to keep my voice neutral, trying not to fall apart again.
“Unlike every other person that has been taken, it looks like he was taken right from his apartment. It looks like he opened the door to whoever it was, and then there was a struggle. Rangel is… was a big guy. There had to be at least two people. There was food on the counter that had gone bad, so we think he was taken several days ago. Probably the night before he scryed in sick.”
“Were there any witnesses?”
“No. No one we talked to tonight heard the struggle. There could be a sound-deafening spell on the apartment; it’s not uncommon. But agents will make another round of the building tomorrow to talk to people that weren’t home today. I don’t hold out much hope. Everyone seemed to know Rangel was City Guard. If anyone had witnessed anything, they would have reported it immediately.”
“So, none of “your kind” of witnesses either?” I asked, stealing a glance at him.
He smiled a little at my joke. “None that could tell me anything substantial. Strangely, Rangel had an energy ward on his apartment.”
I shrugged. “Not so strange. Rangel’s grandmother—or was it mother—one of them was a clairvoyant. Energy wards don’t just keep out spirits. They can’t stop someone from having visions about you, but they can keep powerful seers from, well, seeing into somewhere you want to keep private. We have one, too.”
He let out a small laugh. “I know—I can detect energy wards. I didn’t really think it was odd; I just figured you and Pinky were paranoid.”
I couldn’t help but smile at him, though it hurt my cheeks. “Well, we are.”
“Well, now I understand why Rangel had it. But back to your question. There is a very old spirit that lives in the building, and he remembers seeing two men guiding what looked to be a drunk man out of the building. But the spirit was very old and weak. I took a great deal of my own energy to be able to communicate with him. I suspect he died over five hundred years ago. Anyway, he remembers seeing something, but not when. I’m not sure that what he saw was Rangel. When a spirit gets that old and faded, mortal time doesn’t really mean much to them anymore.”
“So, we are no closer to finding that asshole than we were yesterday?” I spat.
“I’m afraid not. But forensic mages are combing the apartment and all the hallways. If there is any evidence, even a speck, they will find it,” he said, and I knew he believed it. I believed it, too. At least I knew the Blades employed the most powerful mages in Appalachia. If there were anything to find, they would find it. But what if there was nothing to find? Even if there were, there was no proof it would be in time to do any good.
“We have to find Millie,” I said, finally bringing up what we had both been shying around. “She’s completely innocent in this, Ian.”
“I know, honey. We’ll find her.” Finally, he put his arm around me, pulling to me up onto his lap so that he cradled me against his chest, his chin resting on my head.
The moment he touched me, something broke inside me. The tension that had been coiled in my stomach let loose. I didn’t cry, I just kind of heaved, my breath coming in gasps as if I had been holding it in for hours. I sank against him, getting as close as I could, as if I just got close enough to him, he could fix everything, make every moment of the past day fade away and put everything to rights. When had this happened? When had he become my everything? My reason for being, for breathing? When had he slipped so far into the fiber of my being that I would never be rid of him?
He wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me in his warmth. “Shhh, baby, I’m here.”
“Hold me,” I said, sounding a little desperate. “Don’t let me go.”
“Don’t worry; I’m not letting you go. I’m not going anywhere,” he said into my hair.
It wasn’t true, I knew. Eventually, he would have to let go. I would have to make him. We had jobs to do, and we couldn’t do them hiding in a rooftop garden wrapped around each other. But for now, I needed this, needed him, more than I needed to breathe.
I turned my face up to him, our lips collided, and instantly the kiss turned hot and needy. Without pulling away, I turned my body so that I was straddling him. His hands slid around me, cupping my ass and pulling me close. I could feel the hot, hardening length of him pushing against my center, despite the layers of clothes. I pressed down against him, liquid heat welling up inside me.
As our mouths licked and tasted each other, I pushed his suspenders off his shoulders and pulled his shirt out of his pants almost frantically. Ian pulled back, breaking the kiss just long enough to help me pull the shirt over his head. He pulled me back to him, his hands working to free me of my own shirt as my hands roamed his bare torso. The muscles of his back flexed and worked under my hands.
Then, without me realizing how it happened, I was naked from the waist up and our bare skin was pressed together. His chest hair teased my nipples into tight, almost painful, little buds. I clutched at him, wanting to melt into him. “Ian, make love to me, please,” I gasped out as he took one nipple into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth.
“No, now. Please, I need you inside me,” I pleaded. Need vibrated through my body. I didn’t want, or need, preliminaries. I needed him inside me, filling me, pushing out everything else but the feel of him, the feel of the two of us together.
“Shhh, honey. I want to make sure you are ready,” he said, his face still pressed against my breast.
I pushed back from him, leaning up enough to unbutton my pants and push them down my hips. Grabbing his hand, I pushed it against the damp curls at the apex of my thighs. “I am ready,” I gasped as his finger slipped into my slick, heated depths.
“Fiona.” My name came out in a half growl as he pulled me down to him, recapturing my mouth with his, kissing me with the same needy urgency I felt. He maneuvered us until I was lying on the blanket and he was kneeling above me. He broke the kiss again and leaned up to pull my pants off. Then he stood and divested himself of his own boots and pants, kneeling back between my knees.
“Hmm, this ground is a little rough,” he said, distractedly. Instead of settling between my legs as I wanted, he lay down beside me. But, before I could protest, he pulled me on top of him. “I
don’t want you to scrape up your back.”
I barely registered the words as I slid across him, my sex finding his, almost instinctively. I rose up over him, and then slowly pushed down, until I had taken him all in. I savored the stretched, utterly full feeling for a moment before I began to rock against him.
“Fiona,” Ian gasped again, pulling me down so that he could wrap his arms tight around me. I slid my hands up under his arms, clutching at his shoulders as we moved together. The frantic urgency of a moment before was gone. Now, we rocked together in a slow, steady rhythm, as if we both wanted to draw this moment out, make it last as long as possible. At least, that was what I wanted.
I wanted that moment to last forever. I wanted his arms around me, my body wrapped around his, the two of us joined with our bodies and our energies melding together. I wanted that for eternity.
But, nothing lasted forever. We rocked together like that, for a long time, the heat and tension building, until every fiber of my being cried out for release. I pushed up until I was over him again. Leaning back, I braced my hands on his thighs and began to move, harder and faster with every stroke. His hands slid up my thighs, over my belly, and cupped my breasts. He pulled and teased the nipples, causing me to cry out. Then, he let his hands roam again, down my sides to rest at my hips, grasping them as I rode him.
Ian pushed his hips up, meeting me with every thrust, until our breath was coming in ragged gasps. My body turned to fire, the place where our bodies joined the white-hot center. Every muscle tensed and coiled, every nerve burned, and I drove on, faster and harder, until finally, the last thread of sanity broke and white-hot light burst behind my eyes, pushing me off the cliff into a pool with wave after wave of pure pleasure. I felt rather than heard Ian’s groan as he bucked under me, his hands digging into my hips as he thrust hard into me when his own climax rolled over him.