Storm of Reckoning by Doranna Durgin

Author:Doranna Durgin [Durgin, Doranna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781611385151
Publisher: Book View Cafe
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Ghosts at the Journey

“Spirits in need have a unique perspective.”

— Rhonda Rose

“Me, me, me!”

— every ghost, ever

Garrie opened her eyes to the bare hint of dawn — coral and pale turquoise spread along the eastern horizon.

Whoa. Outdoors dawn. Birds singing, air kissed with dampness, and the scents of the day — pine and juniper and cedar — warming around her. Her legs were chilly, while the rest of her hummed with warmth.

A loud purr vibrated through the air, tickling the bottoms of her feet.

“How is it,” she said to the warmth that was Trevarr, “that I can sleep when I’m with you?” In San Jose. Here. No dreams, no jarring surges of unsettled energies.

He shifted slightly behind her. “Some things simply are.”

::He doesn’t know,:: Sklayne informed her, and smug at that. And then he purred ever more loudly, overriding anything Trevarr might have said in response.

“Don’t you?” Garrie asked Trevarr.

“Should I?”

“You’re the one who travels worlds. I’m the one who only recently learned there are worlds for traveling.” She stretched her toes, and realized then that she hummed with more than warmth. That the toll for sleep had been a slow and subtle build of the wild pressure from within her, seeping into her every personal nook and cranny. Persistent, unrelenting... hunting release.

He shifted beneath her again — his arm over her shoulders, his chest beneath her face, lean stomach beneath her hand where her fingers had slipped inside his belt —

“Oh,” she said, pulling her hand back a few inches. “Sorry.”

He made a noise that sounded a little like can’t talk just now, and for those moments they simply breathed in the dawn together — if somewhat unevenly. Until he took one final deep breath, and said wryly, “Traveling worlds means nothing when it comes to the nuances of being with you, atreya.”

“Hmph.” She tucked her light sleeveless hoodie around the snug little camisole Lucia had foisted upon her in San Jose, and looked into his face. “I’m not sure if that’s the best compliment eveh, or just plain rude.”

::You choose,:: Sklayne suggested, and, “Mow!” when her foot happened to twitch just so, nudging him off the bench.

She, too, sat up. “I hate to wake Lucia... I might as well check on our ghosties before I go back inside.”

Morning bladder might have something to say about that. But she’d see.

Trevarr stood, shedding his coat — draping it over her even as he drew Lukkas from one of those impossible pockets. He propped the sword briefly against the bench rocker to tug his shirt free, loosening the laces with a practiced hand and pulling it over his head.

Garrie resisted the urge to trace her fingers over the faint brush marks that weren’t the old tattoos she’d at first thought — the feathery scales barely visible along the backs of his arms and fanning out over his ribs, growing darker along his forearms, darker where the pattern converged toward his spine at his belt line... ever, ever so faint along the sides of his neck.

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