Scorched_Earth_B_N Page 9

  Sarsen excused himself as Tremor saw to the slurry. Soaking in the mud would do her good.

  “He’s a sweetie,” Cara said as he helped her in, too tired to be modest.

  “My uncle? He seems taken with you. I think he sees little ones in our future. He’s always loved children.”

  She snorted softly. “Good luck with that. You are never going to get lucky at this rate, much less father little Tremors.”

  “Let’s fix you up before we worry about that,” he said gruffly. “You scared me.”

  “Might be worth it,” she murmured. “Been dreaming I was a superhero all night…”

  Tremor smiled and let her sleep, quietly guarding her as she dreamed of swords and magic.

  Cara shuffled into the parlor, awkwardly cradling her purse. It hurt to sling it over her shoulder; it hurt to breathe. Unfortunately, she had things to do. She saw Tremor gazing pensively out at the street and rasped, “Hey. My parents will arrive at the airport this morning. Want to come with me to pick them up?” He’d said he could appear more human when necessary, so she wasn’t worried about his exotic looks.

  He spun around and took in her rough appearance. “You’re in no condition to visit them today.”

  She grunted as she fished her keys from her purse. “I’ll live. Rosestone is fixing me a coffee for the road and some sort of copper drink. You coming?” She was too tired and achy to argue.

  Tremor took her keys. “You aren’t driving. Your car is stored, but I can send a driver to pick up your parents. If you insist on seeing them, we can take a portal to your house and wait for them there.”

  She huffed at his high-handedness. “I always meet my parents at the airport! They’ll worry if they don’t see me.” She could imagine them fretting all the way home.

  “Call them and explain that you don’t feel well. They will understand. You are hurt, Cara.”

  Deflated at his concern, she grumbled, “I don’t like it.”

  He touched her arm in acknowledgement and comfort and turned to Rosestone, who had brought Cara’s drinks. The housekeeper’s disapproval turned to relief as he asked for a driver and explained what he needed done. It was clear she didn’t like Cara leaving the house alone, either.

  Cara didn’t realize what Tremor’s idea of taking care of her involved until she tried to clean and air the house. He growled at her to sit and ported in a maid. Meanwhile, he consulted with one of his security team in the kitchen while he kept an eye on her. She noticed that her father’s recliner and the couch had been replaced. When had he done that?

  She shifted uncomfortably when she considered her parents’ reaction to Tremor. How would she explain him?

  She glanced at him, taking in his toffee-colored skin and dark brown hair. He was dressed in expensive black trousers and a crisply ironed navy shirt. Only his remarkable eyes were the same, and she suddenly realized how handsome and wealthy he looked, like a foreign prince.

  This was going to be hard to explain to her parents, who would demand to know why she hadn’t mentioned him in their nightly conversations. The fact that he was here, in their house, and very definitely solicitous of their daughter’s health would make them very suspicious. Would they think she’d been hiding a lover? She cringed.

  It seemed like no time at all when a limousine pulled into the driveway, followed by two suspicious dust clouds. Cara stared. “You sent a limo for them? And escorts?” It only reinforced the rich man’s image.

  Tremor joined her at the window. “Of course.”

  Now that the moment was here, she panicked. She clutched his arm, “I’ll tell them you’re a friend, okay? Just let me do the talking.” She wasn’t about to spring Tremor’s identity on them; she needed time to ease into it. Her mom didn’t like surprises.

  He looked at her, then stepped outside to meet her parents. Holding out his hand to her father, he said smoothly, “Mr. Cortez. It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Tremor Earth, and I’m Cara’s husband.”

  Cara’s dad froze. A tall, salt-and-pepper haired man of middle years, he seemed shocked speechless. Cara’s mother, a woman of medium height and thick brown hair carefully dyed to mask the gray, gasped.

  Cara had petrified , so Tremor reached around and gently guided her forward. “I’m sorry Cara couldn’t meet you at the airport, but she’s been injured. Please be gentle when you hug her.”

  “Cara?” her mother, Inez, managed. “What’s happened?”

  “Oh, Mom…” At a loss for words, Cara glanced at Tremor for help.

  “Why don’t we discuss this inside, sir, ma’am? There’s so much to talk about,” Tremor soothed, guiding Cara inside. He might be polite, but it was clear who was in charge.

  “That went well,” Tremor said as he brought Cara back to his uncle’s home.

  She simply stared at him before carefully sitting in a parlor chair. “You bulldozed them.”

  “Nonsense. I explained, demonstrated and asked their blessing. It seemed wise to leave while they were still in shock.”

  “You left them a business card!” she exclaimed, stunned at his chutzpah. The man was a menace.

  “It had my number,” he said, referring to his new cell phone. She’d already given her parents her new cell number; human phones didn’t get reception under the earth. “And it’s true that the doctor didn’t want you to overexert yourself. They were very understanding.”

  “Shock will do that,” she muttered. He hadn’t given them a chance to protest her “marriage”, but at least she hadn’t had to explain a thing. He’d zipped through the summery, slick as a lawyer, and whisked her away before he could be cross-examined. Privately, she was impressed, but she felt guilty for startling her parents.

  Besides, things couldn’t be this easy.

  “They’ll call when they’ve processed things,” he assured her, kissing her forehead. “Would you like to rest? I think your history show is on. I’m going to deal with some business; I may not be back until this evening.”

  She let him distract her, her eyes on the TV but her mind conjuring scenarios about how her mom would react once the shock wore off. She was almost grateful when the soreness made her restless. She thought about calling Tremor, but didn’t want to interrupt whatever he was doing. Instead, she used a technique she’d learned from their mind meld and thought about where he might be. When she had a feel for the direction, she formed a small puff of dust and whispered, “Sniff him out. Tell me what you see.” She watched it drift off, then wandered to the kitchen in search of lunch.

  She was lingering over coffee when an image formed in her mind. She paused in mid-sip at the image of an attractive, scantily clad woman flirting with Tremor. They stood in a dingy alley overlooked by apartments. The woman cast a flirtatious look; and led him to a red door in an otherwise featureless building.

  Cara took a deep breath and let the image fade. Oh, no he wasn’t! He wasn’t cheating on her, was he? She hadn’t decided if she would keep him yet, and he was already tomcatting around.

  Her eyes narrowed and her mug made a sharp clink as she set it down. Her temper was engaged and she knew from experience she needed to control it immediately or it would explode into a hissy fit.

  Hissy fits these days resulted in earthquakes. Earthquakes were bad.

  This called for investigation.

  Becoming dust was easy now that she’d been in his head, and she easily homed in on the dust beacon. She flowed easily around buildings and zoomed through the streets to land silently on a balcony overlooking the suspected whorehouse. She resumed her proper form crouched behind a dead, potted tree and peered at the building. The soreness made her cranky, but she discovered an earth elemental experienced no cramping if they were stuck in what would be a difficult position for a human. The copper in her veins flowed just fine, and time passed as her temper grew. If he were cheating, she would go home and pack her bags. She wouldn’t put up with this crap.

  When the door finally opened, Cara watc
hed intently. Tremor gave the pouting woman a cool goodbye and strode on his way, alert to his surroundings. Cara followed as dust, letting him get a block away before she shimmered into human form beside him. “You must be a lousy lay; that hooker didn’t look satisfied.”

  He didn’t look the least surprised at her appearance. “You do realize you could have ripped your sutures again? Your security team had a doctor standing by in case you started bleeding.” He looked hard at her stomach, but didn’t stop walking. “I hope you’ll tell me if you feel faint.”

  “You knew I was there?” she asked suspiciously. Her belly hurt, so she wrapped an arm around it to stabilize the muscles. Tremor switched sides with her as they passed a man slumped against the wall. Dressed in rags, he stared at the street with glassy eyes. She flinched when she noticed tiny mushrooms sprouting on his craggy skin. Was it the side effect of elemental drugs?

  “When it was too late to abort,” he growled. “I nearly had them yank you out of there anyway.” He stopped in front of an abandoned building and glared. “You need to think about your safety. I’m not the only one who’d be unhappy if you were hurt again.”

  She ignored his lecture. “So you weren’t in there humping some whore?”

  “No. I was finding out who set the trolls on us.”

  Cara considered his statement, still suspicious. “So who was it?”

  He blew out a breath and flexed his hands as if he wanted to wring her neck. Instead, he started walking. “You’re standing there, probably bleeding again, no doubt plotting to move out the moment we get home because you still think I was bedding another woman. Women haven’t changed in 10,000 years,” he snarled.

  “I’m giving you a chance to defend yourself,” she snipped, disliking the way he seemed to read her mind.

  He stopped and took her hands impatiently. “See for yourself,” he commanded. “Scan me for her scent.”

  She hesitated; unsure she wanted to know if he’d truly betrayed her. Abandoning the idea that she didn’t have a claim on him, she set her jaw and used her senses to scan his body for traces of sex. There were none.

  She dropped his hands and looked away, her vision suddenly blurry. “Okay,” she managed.

  He sighed and gently took her arm. “I suppose I would be angry if I thought you were with another man. I should praise you for your restraint. You could have leveled the building.”

  She gulped, trying not to cry with relief. “I learned how to control it from the mind meld.”

  “Thank God for small favors,” he muttered, dissolving their forms.

  He made a thorough inspection when they reached the house, but she was more sore than anything. Giving her a pain pill, he regarded her moodily as she reclined on the bed. “Should I stay here and guard you to make sure you don’t wander off again?”

  “You could try telling me what you’re up to, and then I won’t be tempted to investigate,” she said sweetly.

  He crossed him arms. “I know! I could take you along the next time I visit a house of ill repute. After we’ve had tea with the madam, we could cap off the evening by chatting with a drug dealer. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”

  “Very funny. I didn’t ask to go along, I asked to be informed. There’s a big difference,” she said darkly. “I don’t like thinking you’re cheating.”

  His brows went up with interest, and he stretched out with her on the bed, careful not to jar her. “Oh? Tell me more.”

  “It’s not funny,” she said sullenly. “I don’t like it.”

  “I like it when you get possessive.”

  She sniffed. “I have a temper.”

  “You’re a jealous woman. Good.” His eyes glowed as he studied her body. “How I’d love to capitalize on that right now,” he said wistfully.

  She gripped the covers, tempted. He was hot, and she could use comforting. Shifting made her wince, and her libido settled down. She really didn’t feel well, so she changed the subject, “Tell me about the guy with the mushrooms.”

  “Prostitutes and drugs. My uncle would cringe at the things I discuss with my bride,” he said thoughtfully.

  “Spill it.”

  “Fine. He was an addict. Like sores on a human, the mushrooms are a side effect of his decay.”

  “They look painful.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Will they kill him?”

  “Eventually. The fungal infection itself could be cured if he sought help.”

  “I read an article that mushrooms could be used to clean up heavy metal deposits and toxic waste,” she mused. The mushrooms had broken the toxins in the compost into harmless elements, which had impressed her. She’d received an A on her high school report on biological soil remediation methods.

  He raised a brow. “I’m sure they can, but no elemental in his right mind would deliberately infect himself. Not only is it disgusting, it’s painful.”

  “What if you were dying? Wouldn’t it be worth it?”

  He shook his head. “I hope you’re never my doctor, darling. You scare me.”

  Cara recovered rapidly in the next few days, but not fast enough for her taste. She spent her time trying not to sulk, watching documentaries on mermaids and gargoyles, which she was delighted to discover were real. “I want to meet one,” she said excitedly when Tremor checked on her one afternoon.

  Tremor glanced at the screen doubtfully. “Mermaids can be temperamental. Wouldn’t you rather meet a gargoyle? I know some interesting ones.”

  She stared at him. “You know gargoyles? No way!” She wanted to bounce in place, but settled for vibrating with curiosity. “What else is real? Dragons? Fairies?”

  He grinned, enjoying her enthusiasm. “Certainly. I suspect most human myths have a basis in fact. You’ve seen how easy it is to live undetected among their kind.”

  She narrowed her eyes at the faint smugness in his tone. “Careful. I still consider myself human.”

  “Of course,” he said smoothly. “As for mermaids, I should warn you that they tend toward self-centeredness, but if it’s the exotic you’re after, we should visit the elemental marketplace. I’d love to take you to lunch.”

  “Can we go now?”

  Tremor grinned and took her hand, moving to the center of the room. He traced a glowing outline in the air and a doorway winked into existence. She vibrated with excitement as she saw people walking a stone street. Exotic perfume and cooking smells wafted through the air, fueling her curiosity. She squeezed his hand happily, eager to explore.

  Kissing her hand, Tremor introduced her to another world.

  Flowers as tall as trees buzzed with glowing pastel dragonflies. There were so many plants, the city center looked like a park. Spices mixed with the scents of dozens of different creatures. Centaurs trotted along the cobbled streets, and she saw a tall blond elf talking earnestly with a large black fox. The fox slowly waved its white tipped tail, unimpressed.

  Extremely tall lily-of-the-valley bells lined the streets, glowing gently like streetlights in the overcast air. White birds with crazy long tails, blue jays and cardinals sang in the tree-lined streets. The sun shone with gentle golden light, but a light mist curled around their feet.

  “Buy anything you like,” Tremor said when she stopped to examine an artist’s display. “We should commemorate the occasion.”

  Cara stopped at a candy stall and bought a batch of basalt balls and tar babies, which contained real rock and tar. She gingerly accepted a sample of crystal rock candy and made a happy noise as she chewed. “These are great!” They got a bit of everything and snacked while they walked, comparing notes. Tremor had been away so long many of the flavors were new to him as well.

  He liked shopping. Rather, he was patient and offered useful suggestions while she tried on clothes. He had good taste, so when he began to show signs of exhaustion, she gracefully relented and let him port her purchases to her room.

  “We can eat anywhere you wish, but my uncle had a su
ggestion for casual dining,” Tremor offered, looking at the street stalls and small restaurants with interest. “We can come back often and try new things.”

  His voice was easy, but Cara noted fine signs of strain around his eyes. Linking arms, she suggested, “Why don’t we try the place he likes and see what we think? He seems to have good taste, and I could use a quiet place to unwind.”

  Tremor looked at her gratefully. “Excellent. We’ll find a guidebook later and check the reviews to see which places are highly rated.”

  Cara noted his speech became more proper when he was stressed and wondered, “Was your upbringing very formal? I assume so, with someone like your uncle.”

  He scanned the beautiful old buildings, looking for their destination. “Royal families always are. Fortunately, Father encouraged hunting and the arts of war, and sports were an escape. I dodged my tutors and my mother’s efforts to improve me as often as possible.” He found the place and escorted her into an elegant establishment. Flowers in crystal vases decorated polished slate tables and the floors were tiled in a gray and pale pink checkerboard pattern. The coffee was delicious and she adored the long, crunchy crackers studded with flecks of seeds.

  “Wow! I like these,” Cara said approvingly. “So you were saying? You’re a royal? Like Prince Charles?” she teased, not quite believing it.

  “I was,” he said quietly. “I was king briefly, after my father died.”

  Taken aback, she gawked. “You were…a king? Were a king, right? You’re not now?” she asked, suddenly alarmed. She wasn’t prepared for a relationship with a king.

  “I’ve no plans to resume the title,” he said dryly, guessing the source of her panic. “My kingdom was destroyed long ago, while I was captive.”

  “Oh.” She shut her mouth, not sure what to say. Thank God didn’t seem appropriate, but the moment begged for something. “You had me worried. I’m not exactly a blueblood.” She shut her mouth, embarrassed. She fiddled with her coffee cup, feeling bad. Feeling unworthy.

  His hand covered hers. “Cara,” he said softly. “You set me free. That’s worth a thousand princesses, a hundred kingdoms.” He kissed her hand.