Chapter 13
Zach
A knock sounds
softly on a side door in my room that I had noticed earlier but
didn’t pay any mind. I open it hesitantly and see Moira
standing there. We’re due to go down to dinner in about fifteen
minutes. I’m not surprised to see her, but I am surprised she’s
at this side door, not understanding where she came from.
“Looks like
our rooms connect,” Moira says by way of explanation and points
back into the bedroom I can now see over her shoulder.
“Interesting,”
I say out loud, even as my thoughts turn toward the possibility of
sneaking into her room tonight.
Fuck, I’m
going crazy with wanting this woman, and not exactly even sure if I’d
be welcomed into her body again. I was so confused and angry over her
denial of me that I wanted nothing to do with her.
That lasted all of
about five minutes.
Then it was back to
this insane, unmitigated craving I have for her, and I had to argue
with myself for another three days that it was foolish to even pursue
anything further. We are too different. I can’t afford to lose
control. She wants things of me I can’t give.
I still have no more
clarity on the issue.
Moira walks past me
into my room. I see she’s put on a white skirt that hugs her
hips and stops just above her knees. She paired it with a light blue,
sleeveless top so I can see the hint of freckles on her shoulders. As
is normally her custom, her hair is brilliantly long and loose and
I’m dying to run my fingers through it.
Preferably with her
bent over before me and fucking her from behind.
But no, that’s
not quite true. Not preferably. The minute Moira told me the other
day she wanted to take me in her mouth, I’ve been obsessing
about that. I immediately shut that notion down because I didn’t
think I would be able to handle it and not lose control with her. But
the prospect of sinking my fingers into her hair, holding her face
still while I pumped in and out of her mouth… yeah, okay.
Getting an erection and need to think of something else.
“How old are
you, Moira?” I ask her, as it’s something I’ve been
curious about.
She walks over to my
bed and sits down on the edge. Laughing lightly, she says, “Cultural
lesson number one when it comes to women… never ask them their
age.”
I can’t help
the smile that pops back at her. “Oh, yeah. Why is that?”
“Because
modern women are sensitive to aging. A direct question is apparently
interpreted to mean, ‘You look old and haggard. Maybe you
should consider Botox.’”
“What’s
Botox?” I ask in confusion.
Moira giggles and
shakes her head with laughing eyes. “It’s something a
woman does to make herself look young and pretty. But to answer your
question, I’m twenty-eight.”
“Older than me
by three years,” I muse out loud.
“You missed a
prime opportunity,” she teases as she stands from the bed. “You
should have said, ‘Moira, you don’t look a day over
twenty-one. You are so youthful and beautiful, you’ll never
need Botox.’”
I can’t help
but smirk at her. “You don’t need me to tell you that.
You know that already.”
Coming to stand
before me, Moira pats my forearm. “See, that’s just it,
Zach. Women are insecure creatures at times. We absolutely need to
hear that.”
“Not you,”
I scoff. “You are the most confident woman I’ve ever
known.”
“Your
experience is with Caraican women,” she points out. “Of
course, I’m the most confident woman you’ve ever known.”
“I’ve
met plenty of other women over the last few weeks. Observed even
more. Trust me; no one holds a candle to you in that respect.”
“But yet it’s
a turn off for you,” she says quietly, and her eyes cast
downward.
I blink at her in
surprise, not just by her words, but by the way she drops her gaze.
So not the confident Moira I know. “It’s not a turn off.”
“No?”
she asks dubiously but with a hint of challenge as she raises her
face upward. “You haven’t spoken to me in several days.
You don’t want me unless you can put me on bended knee. I’m
not Tukaba, and I never will be.”
Reaching out, I take
a lock of her silky hair in my hand, absently rubbing the softness
between my fingers. I study it carefully, watching the way the light
dances on it. When I raise my eyes to her, I say, “Don’t
ever think I don’t want you, Moira. I’m just not sure I
can have you and not lose myself along the way.”
“Zach…
I don’t want you to lose yourself. And I don’t ever want
you to be anyone other than your true self. Please don’t think
that.”
I release her hair
and step back. “I know. But I also know that you will never be
the woman that is going to bend to me completely. If you don’t
bend, then my existence is wrong. I don’t know any other way.”
“That’s
not true,” Moira says quickly and reaches out to take my hand.
Her fingers lace in between mine. “You keep your ways, Zach.
But you can learn new ways too, if you want. That’s how you
should treat everything in life.”
I’m silent for
a moment as I look at our fingers intertwined. Her touch is warm and
caring, and it gives me a measure of peace. “I don’t want
to hurt you,” I tell her honestly. “I always feel like
I’m getting ready to lose control when I’m with you. I
want to possess you so thoroughly, and I’m afraid I might hurt
you in the process.”
“But you
haven’t yet,” she assures me.
“Because I was
in control the entire time, Moira. If I give that up, who will
protect you from me?”
Raising our joined
hands up, Moira kisses my knuckles so sweetly. “You won’t
hurt me. I trust you. But let’s talk about this after dinner…
later tonight. They’re expecting us now.”
I nod at her, and
she releases my hand. Heading toward my door that opens to the
hallway, Moira looks back at me. “And Zach… I don’t
think Randall should know about us. I mean, about how close we’ve
come… in an intimate way.”
“I prefer him
not know anything about me at all, so you don’t have to worry
about me sharing.”
“It’s
just… what I did… having sex with you. It’s
inappropriate from a standpoint of where Randall is coming from. He
wouldn’t understand.”
I smile at her. “Our
secret isn’t going anywhere. So don’t worry.”
She breathes out a
sigh of relief and smiles. “Thank you.”
When we reach the
bottom of the stairs, Sam is waiting for us. “Everyone is in
the library if you’d like to join them for a pre-dinner drink.”
I give the man a nod
and motion for Moira to precede me. I follow her in, steeling myself
against the futility of this evening. I don’t want to know this
Randall Cannon. I want to go home… back to Brazil, and back to
my people.
Except, for the
first time since I’ve thought of home, I’ll admit that
the thought of leaving Moira causes a tightness to form in my chest.
While I have no clue where our relationship is headed, I’m most
certain I’m not ready to be parted from her yet.
Moira enters into a
set of open double doors and when I follow, I see Randall standing
there with a man and a woman that look roughly my age. Both of them
are tall and have golden blond hair. The man wears his in a similar
hair length to mine, and the woman’s hair is long but wrapped
up in a knot at the back of her head. She’s quite beautiful
actually, with wide, blue eyes and delicate features.
“Ah, there you
are,” Randall booms and, with a beckoning arm, he says, “Come
in. Come in. I want to introduce you to my niece and nephew, Cara and
Clint Cannon.”
I follow Moira in,
keeping slightly behind her. She smiles at the man and woman and
holds her hand out to each in turn for them to shake.
“Hi. I’m
Moira,” she says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She then steps
aside, so I can shake their hands. Clint steps forward and gives my
hand a mighty pump. With a dazzling, white smile, he says, “It’s
so good to meet you, Zach. Uncle Randall has told us all about you.
We’re going to have so much fun together this summer.”
I don’t know
what to say to that because Moira said we were leaving in two days,
so I just give him a halfhearted smile and turn to the woman.
I hold my hand out
to her, but she steps forward and wraps her bare arms around my neck,
pulling her body in flush against mine. She gives me a tight hug,
pressing her pelvis against mine, which stuns me. “It’s a
pleasure to meet you, Zach.”
She releases me
slowly and looks at me intently. “My, my… Uncle Randall…
you didn’t tell me how gorgeous Zach is. Such secrets.”
“Honestly,
Cara… give it a rest,” Clint says.
Unsure of what to
say, I go ahead and let the first thing that comes to mind out of my
mouth. “What are these terms… niece, nephew, uncle?”
Randall gives a bark
of a laugh and claps me on the shoulder. “My younger brother,
Stanley Cannon, is Cara and Clint’s father. So I’m called
their uncle and they are called my niece and nephew.”
“They’re
titles,” Moira supplies, “to denote blood relations.”
I nod my head with
understanding. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.” I cut
my gaze to Clint, who looks as happy as a puppy to have me there, and
then over to Cara, who looks like she’s undressing me with her
eyes.
A quick glance over
at Moira, and I see she hasn’t failed to notice Cara’s
look. She’s staring at her as if she wants to pull her hair
out, and I smile internally. Now Moira understands perhaps what I was
feeling when that guy Michael put his hands on her. Maybe I’ll
get to see two women fighting over me… although I wonder if I
could get them to agree to do it naked. No clue why, but that idea
appeals to me immensely.
“What would
you like to drink?” Randall asks. “I’ve got a
variety of wines and beer. Maybe some bourbon?”
“I’ll
pour,” Clint says, walking over to a wooden bar filled with
various bottles and glasses. “Cara… you want a glass of
bourbon, right? And a vodka tonic for Uncle Randall. What about you,
Moira?”
“I’ll
have a glass of white wine… I don’t care what type.”
Clint nods as he
starts pouring liquids into various sized glasses. “What about
you, Zach?”
“I’ll