Scorched_Earth_B_N Page 5

  Lord Sarsen flicked his fingers dismissively. “What of tomorrow, or next month? Have you the means to navigate elemental society? Have you shelter, food, money? As the wife a wealthy elemental, you have all those things.”

  Cara peered doubtfully at Tremor. “I hate to point this out, but he’s been in prison for a long time. He doesn’t even have pants, let alone money. Besides, he doesn’t owe me anything.”

  “I disagree,” Tremor said firmly. “You set me free, and that is no small thing.”

  “He has money,” Lord Sarsen added. “That is the purpose of a bank.”

  She looked between them, feeling as if they were tag teaming her. “That’s great for him, but I’m not entitled to it because I’m not his wife.”

  “Yet he is in your debt. The least he can do is help you establish a new life.” Sarsen said reasonably, avoiding the marriage issue. “It’s a family obligation now.”

  Cara blinked at him, overwhelmed. Too much had happened in the last two days, and she was mentally exhausted. She had the feeling this dude was a master of negotiation.

  Sensing weakness, Lord Sarsen pressed, “You could benefit from instruction on how to use your new gifts. There’s an excellent university here.”

  “I’ve already signed up for welding and metal fabrication classes this fall,” Cara said, exasperated. Her parents had been unhappy with her; they’d wanted her to take something traditional like business classes. It was one of the reasons she’d put off going to school; she hadn’t wanted to work in an office all day.

  Sarsen nodded. “Wouldn’t you like to know how elementals do such things? You chose your class before you had elemental abilities. Do you need to know how to weld metal with a torch when you have the ability to fuse and shape iron?”

  “It would be paid for, of course,” Tremor added.

  Cara was speechless, but she knew better than to make an important decision when she was tired, stressed or sick. “I don’t think I should make a snap decision about this.”

  Lord Sarsen nodded. “Very sensible of you.” He met Tremor’s eyes. “We can discuss her security later. I know several reliable elementals for the task.”

  Cara shook her head, amazed at their presumption. “Wait, shouldn’t I be included in any discussions about me? This is my life we’re talking about.”

  “Of course. I’d be pleased to talk about it more in the morning. Meanwhile, Tremor and I have much to discuss. It’s been quite a while,” he looked at his nephew, and this time she saw the stern, banked aggression she’d expected earlier.

  Tremor nodded coolly back.

  “I don’t want to be in the way,” she said carefully.

  “Nonsense,” Sarsen said firmly. “You are the victim here. I’m certainly not going to make you uncomfortable by upbraiding my nephew in front of you. You will have a comfortable room to relax in, a warm bath and a hot dinner. My housekeeper Rosestone will be at your disposal.” The woman appeared as if by magic and he instructed her to find Cara a room.

  Tremor stood and took Cara’s hand. “I’ll see Cara to her room.”

  “Of course. Take your time,” Sarsen said, rising as well. “We can talk when you’re finished.”

  Cara was surprised when Rosestone led them not up, but down an obsidian staircase; the lower level glowed with natural light. Beautiful paintings and sculpture graced the walls and elegant crystal fixtures brightened the walls.

  “It’s strange that it’s so bright in here,” she murmured to Tremor. “We’re so deep underground, I keep expecting dwarf caverns or mine shafts.”

  He chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint. You won’t find anything like that in my uncle’s homes, but we could take a field trip if you like.”

  If Rosestone thought their conversation odd, she didn’t comment. She opened a door and walked in, highlighting the amenities. “You will find the slurry chamber here, my lady, and this pantry is stocked for your convenience.” She opened an elegantly carved cupboard to reveal shelves of snacks.

  “This is the entertainment center, and here is your remote.” She pressed a button and a picture slid back from the wall to reveal a high tech TV. “If you need anything, simply press this button to speak to a servant.” She showed Cara an antique looking phone by the bed. “Dinner will be served in two hours.”

  Cara peeked around the corner that hid the slurry chamber. “It looks like a bathroom to me,” she murmured to herself.

  Tremor slid past her and turned on a spigot. A waterfall of liquid clay emerged from a slot and began to fill the large tub.

  Cara gaped. She’d never seen such a thing. “It’s a mud spa? In the bathroom?”

  “You expected water?” he teased.

  “Yeah,” she said as if that should be apparent. She looked around. “Where’s the shower?” She walked to what she thought was the shower booth and saw a slot on the ceiling. Turning on the spigot produced a fall of slurry. Hastily she turned it off and stared at the splashes on her clothes. They remained, but the drops on her hand melted away. “Where did it go?” she turned to ask Tremor and froze at the sight of his discarded shorts. He must be in the filling tub, but there was no sign of him.

  “Tremor?” She peered at the slurry, but it was perfectly opaque. The spigot shut off, and the ripples in the mud slowed. Worried, she reached below the surface and felt Tremor’s unmoving chest. “Are you okay?” He was weak and she grew more concerned by the second. Could he be drowning?

  As soon as she thought it, she crawled into the tub and reached for his shoulders. This was no time to hesitate, and there was no way she could lift his bulk from the outside. Heaving, she pulled a very surprised elemental to the surface. He blinked away the slurry, but didn’t need to wipe his face. The mud soaked into his thirsty skin, filling the pits and crags. Cara gaped as he regenerated before her eyes.

  Tremor scooted back and rested his arms on the rim. “You needed something?”

  “I thought you were drowning,” she stammered. “You weren’t breathing.”

  “I don’t need to,” he said calmly. “We’re of the earth, Cara. It takes care of its own.”

  “Yes, but…” She frowned as she realized she still straddled him. Scooting back, she huddled in the other end of the spacious tub. He looked younger and his exhaustion seemed to have dropped away. He bent one knee and she watched in fascination as it absorbed the clay. Unthinking, she lifted her hand to touch it and froze as she saw her hand absorb the liquid. “This is so freaky,” she whispered, horrified.

  “It’s perfectly normal,” he said calmly. “Very good for your skin.”

  “It’s dirt,” she insisted, voice rising with hysteria. “How is that normal?”

  “Hey, now.” He pulled her onto his lap, easily quelling her struggles. “You’re fine.”

  A horrible thought occurred to her. “Do I even bleed? Or do parts just break off?” She looked at his rapidly healing face. “Am I going to crumble?”

  “Your body is in perfect condition. Trust me,” he said, smiling as he glanced at her chest. He drew her pinkie into his mouth before she realized what he was up to and gently sucked. He held her wrist when she flinched, his expression sensual, watching her reaction.

  “Let me go,” she croaked. No one had ever sucked her fingers, and she was shocked how good it felt.

  Instead, he settled her more comfortably on his lap. He switched to a new finger. “See? Your skin is soft and sensitive, you feel excitement and pleasure. Business as usual, right?” He gently bit her fingertip, making her gasp.

  “Nothing about this is usual.” She tugged her hand, but he didn’t let go.

  “Should I be flattered?” He smiled as he tormented her, confident he was pleasuring her.

  “No!” Unfortunately, she couldn’t think when her blood was turning to lava. She squirmed, but it didn’t help. He was turning her on against her will. Even though he wouldn’t release her, his hold was gentle. In his own sexy way, he was being kind.

  She f
roze as she realized that. He was comforting her…and doing a mighty fine job.

  “What?” He sat up, clearly concerned by her misty eyes.

  She gently traced his mouth. “You’re being sweet.”

  He looked very confused. “Yes?”

  “Yes,” she murmured, kissing him. He didn’t respond at first, but quickly got into the game. She kissed him silly, eating him up…and then hopped out of the tub.

  Tremor stared at her, dazed. “Where are you going?”

  Cara looked at the shreds of her clothes that seemed to have dissolved in the bath. She brushed at them and they flaked away like ash. Her skin was clean and smooth and seemed to have dried in seconds. No wonder there were no towels.

  Her body was also, shockingly, completely hairless.

  However proud she might be of her body, she wasn’t strutting around in front of him. Any minute he might bolt from the tub, and she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. It was one thing to kiss him, but she barely knew the man.

  The wardrobe held a simple tunic and pants set in several sizes; an upscale version of leisurewear. She gratefully pulled on a burnt orange top and russet drawstring pants. To her surprise (and disappointment?) Tremor didn’t chase her. She sat on the bed, oddly deflated.

  When he entered the room long minutes later, it was completely nude. He smoldered as he sauntered his well-built self to the wardrobe, completely at ease with her gawking. Apparently, rock hard abs, chiseled muscles and hefty male equipment were good for a man’s ego. That, or the way she nearly hyperventilated when he bent to step into his pants. He took his time tying the bow, too.

  “See something you want?” he asked with a smug smile.

  She crossed her legs and aimed for a polite smile. “You’re enjoying putting on a show, so I thought I’d be appreciative.” It took all her will not to blush. He had no body hair, either. It must be an earth elemental thing…and she found it extremely sexy. Yikes.

  He barked a laugh and punished her by pulling his shirt very slowly over his abs. Nearly seven feet of man and everything in proportion. She sighed in appreciation.

  He crossed his arms and looked her over slowly. He gave the impression of a man holding back, enjoying the chase. “I have to speak with my uncle. I’ll make arrangements with my bank tomorrow, and we can go shopping.”

  “Or I can get the clothes I already own from my closet. If you’re arranging a security detail, seems like I can retrieve my cell phone and stuff. Besides, I have to keep an eye on my parents’ house.”

  “Make a list of what you’ll need and we’ll discuss it. I’ll have a better idea what to plan after I talk with my uncle.” He headed for the door and paused. “You’re free to wander the house, of course, but you should know your clothes are designed for private leisure. You might get funny looks.”

  She frowned. “Check with housekeeper about borrowing clothes. Got it.” She flopped on the bed as the door shut, blowing out a breath. Tremor was hot, and he seemed determined to keep her close. Normally that would be fine with her, but the circumstances were bizarre.

  She stared at the ceiling, then found some paper and worked on a list. She couldn’t do much now, but she could be practical. A woman couldn’t save the world without a proper set of clothes.

  Cara waited, but Tremor didn’t return. She woke from a deep sleep on the sand filled mattress. Always a morning person, she hopped up and noticed the clothes on the chair by the bed. She didn’t waste time wondering who’d brought them. She liked the yellow and red, flower print summer dress and silky boy shorts. The sandals were red leather with silver beads, just the thing to make her feel pretty. She brushed her hair and fastened her hairclip, then went in search of Tremor.

  A maid directed her to a cheerful dining room where she found Tremor and his uncle enjoying breakfast.

  Tremor seemed mildly surprised to see her. “You’re up early. Did you sleep well?”

  “Of course. I’m an early riser.” She let him seat her next to him and pour her coffee while a maid brought her a plate of breakfast. She poked the steaming red mass curiously and took a careful bite. It reminded her starchy roasted vegetables and something savory.

  “You look nice today,” Sarsen commented. “Tremor said you were going shopping?”

  “We are?” She raised a brow at Tremor. “I suppose this is a good time to talk about it.”

  Tremor nodded. “I know you were worried about your parents’ house, so I’ve arranged a security detail to watch it, and another team has your parents under discreet surveillance. You won’t need to worry about them.”

  She blinked. She hadn’t been, but now she wondered. “You think the Oracle would want to hurt them?”

  “Why take chances? I don’t want you worried when I can easily prevent it. Which reminds me…” He produced an unfamiliar cell phone. “You might like to call them. Human phones won’t get reception here. Uncle Sarsen’s number is already programed in, as well as mine.” He seemed pleased that he’d managed it, and she assumed he’d learned how from the Fate’s memory dust.

  “Thank you.” She studied the phone, gathering her thoughts. He’d taken care of all of her problems, leaving her little to do but relax and explore his world. It was too easy, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. “My parents will be back eventually. I’m not sure how I’ll explain you.” She looked him over speculatively. Her mom would freak if she saw him.

  “I can change my coloring; it’s easy enough to bind a layer of appropriately colored minerals to my skin,” he assured her confidently. “As for the rest, we’ll tell her the truth. We’re married.”

  She snorted. “You don’t know Latinas if you think she’ll go for that! She’ll have something to say about her only daughter getting married outside the church. My father would shoot you for sure.”

  He shrugged. “Then introduce me as your intended. I’m willing to finalize our joining according to your customs.”

  She shook her finger. “But it’s not up to you, is it? We just met, remember? There’s been no dancing, no romancing, no honey-will-you-marry-me. It’s not as if I’m expecting, so you’ve got no leverage…baby.” She was miffed that he wouldn’t let go of the marriage thing.

  His expression said he was filing that tidbit away for later. “I took you home to see my family,” he said reasonably. “Why wouldn’t you think we were compatible? Just because you were human…”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Careful.”

  He inclined his head. “My apologies. I meant that, much as I loathe them personally, the Fates are powerful. In my mind, according to my customs and the traditions of my family, you’re my wife. I’m living up to my responsibilities. I wish to begin my life afresh.”

  “Very sincere. I like that. However, I’m not convinced I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” she said briskly. “You should take that into account before you insist on shopping and spending money on my education. I do have a house and everything I need to get by.” A house she couldn’t access without his protection, but still.

  Sarsen chuckled. “I like her.”

  Tremor smirked. “It will be fun persuading you, darling.” His expression grew more serious. “The city is relatively new; only a few hundred years old. Having never been here myself, I need to become acquainted with it. I thought you might be interested in exploring as well, but we don't need to spend all of our time shopping. I would be pleased to escort you to your house afterward to collect your belongings.”

  If they were going to her house they didn’t need to shop, but she was tired of beating a dead horse. If it made him feel better, fine.

  Since she only allowed him to buy three set of clothes, two of which were casual dresses, they finished shopping quickly. Tremor arranged for delivery and strode out, his eyes busy taking in buildings and streets. She was content to people watch, impressed by the many hues and types of rock the earth elementals were made of. She saw a family of green jasper elementals pause outside a pastry shop,
the mother admonishing the children to mind their manners before they went in. They were like a human family, but it made her wonder.

  “Do elemental women give birth?” she asked Tremor quietly. “How are your children made?”

  Snapped out of his preoccupation, he said sharply, “What?” He seemed tense, and she wondered if the presence of so many souls when he’d been alone for so long was making him edgy.

  “Kids. Do your women have live births, are they hatched from eggs, or what?” she persisted. She’d no sooner asked the question that she noticed a red jade couple, the woman very obviously pregnant. Her husband solicitously held the door of a pottery shop for her. Cara watched them until she’d passed beyond the door.

  “Are you asking me to demonstrate?” Tremor asked, his eyes skimming hotly over her curvy form. Whatever was bothering him seemed to have his blood up.

  She swatted his arm, refusing to blush. “I’m curious about your world. It’s a simple question.”

  “Hm.” He seemed more relaxed as he slid an arm around her waist. “Our women give birth, though I hear it’s less painful than it is for humans. The babes feed from their mothers; note the breasts.” He nodded to a woman who looked as if she could nurse triplets. He grunted when Cara elbowed him, tightening his arm to settle her. “Easy, darling. I haven’t fathered those babes yet.”

  She snorted, and since she couldn’t escape, reluctantly allowed him to link arms. “Is everyone of matching stone? The ones that can have children, I mean.”

  “No, but like tends to attract like.” He considered her. “We have more differences than most, but I don’t think it will present a problem.”

  She pulled away. “I’m not…”

  “…going to start that again, are you? If I can ignore it, you can,” he growled.

  She stopped by a cart maker’s shop. “Is it a particular problem, my heritage?” she challenged. She’d run into prejudice before, but this was different. Not only wasn’t he her race, he wasn’t even her species.