The flight didn’t take as long as Mac had expected. They landed at Newark, then a limo took them to Jon’s home. They made small talk along the way, but Mac noticed the tension in Jon. It seemed to grow into a living thing the closer they got to his home. Richie had been asking her about Sandy since they left Dallas. He wanted to know everything about her, but Mac finally had to tell him that some things were just girlfriend secrets and that made them sacred. She did tell him about Sandy giving a party in his honor every year on his birthday, even making a cake. He laughed and told her that he’d like to crash the party next time. Mac assured him that Sandy would enjoy that.
When the limo pulled up in front of Jon’s home, Mac was so tired from all the traveling she didn’t even take the time to enjoy the palatial facade of the building. She just grabbed her gym bag and headed for the door. Jon, Richie, and the driver unloaded the luggage and brought it into the entry way. On his first trip into the house, Jon pointed out a room off the entryway and told her to go in there and make herself at home.
Mac walked into the room and almost collapsed into a comfortable looking armchair and with her head resting on the back of the chair, she closed her eyes. She was just dozing off when Jon scooped her up into his arms. Sleepily, she looked up at him. "Where are we going?"
"To our bedroom, moglie mia, you need to rest and then feed," he answered.
The rooms were passing by so fast that it was starting to make her dizzy, and when they started up some stairs, she finally had to close her eyes again and rest her head on his shoulder. When he gently laid her on the bed, she opened her eyes again and looked into piercing blue ones.
"Sleep, tesoro mia," he whispered against her forehead as he placed a kiss there. "I’ll wake you in a while."
Mac fell asleep, unaware that Jon just sat and watched her. Somehow, he needed to find the words to tell her what would happen tomorrow. He didn’t want the emissary to show up and her be in the dark. But, just like with Richie, he would not tell her what a guilty verdict would mean. He just couldn’t bring himself to break her heart like that, and he knew Richie would do something stupid if he knew. He would save them both from that as long as he could.
Somehow, he knew that Caleb hadn’t told the Council of his crime intentionally. Instinctively, he knew his old friend believed what he’d told him in El Paso, that Toby had gone rogue. Jon knew that Caleb had went to confess his own crime out of guilt of what he had done to Jon and Mac, but he’d known Caleb for many years, and Caleb had a tendency to tell everything he knew. If it was in his head, it came out his mouth, which meant that the confession of Jon’s own crime had been just an inadvertent thought that had flashed across Caleb’s mind and he’d just blurted it out. Jon didn’t blame Caleb for what he’d said. No. This was his crime, and he would shoulder the blame and accept the verdict. Somehow, he would have to make Mac and Richie accept it as well.
His gaze rested on Mac’s face, and he drank in the vision like a man crawling through the Sahara dying of thirst. How many more chances would he get to do this before the orders from the Council would separate them? As a witness against him, they would separate them, he knew, so that he wouldn’t be allowed to influence her testimony. She looked so peaceful. Her hair was spread out across his pillow, and her long eyelashes rested on her cheeks, not quite hiding the smudges there that gave silent testimony to just how tired she was. Her pert little nose wrinkled slightly; she must be dreaming. Briefly, he thought about linking with her mind to see what she was dreaming about, but decided against it. She was entitled to a little privacy. He tried to imprint this memory of her on his mind. To brand it on his brain so that he could hold it with him in the long days to come. He would need something to get him through the ordeal of the separation. Kristoff had told him once that a prolonged separation of life mates was a painful ordeal. He hoped that Richie or someone else would be able to help Mac through it. He wasn’t worried about himself. Jon decided it would be his punishment for turning her against her wishes, that and the punishment the Council would deal out, if any. Jon was a realist though, and he really didn’t see any way around the punishment. He was guilty of the crime, and that was it.
For a few minutes, he considered taking Mac and running. He knew what the sentence would be and that it would affect her too. But, what would their life be like, always running from the Council, whose reach was long and wide? If he ran, there would be no chance at a trial and possible exoneration. The Council would issue a death warrant, and any vampire would be obliged to carry it out. They would have to live the rest of their lives looking over their shoulder, never able to contact friends or family because they would be watched. To Jon, that seemed like the greater of the two evils. He would stand before the Council and hold his head up high as they announced his sentence.
He glanced at the clock on the night stand. Mac had been asleep for two hours. Jon didn’t want to waste any more of the time they had left. Quickly, he undressed then slid into the bed beside Mac. He woke her with a series of little kisses down the side of her neck, until he reached the neckline of her t-shirt. He sucked on her neck there, branding her as his.
"How long did I sleep?" she asked, groggily.
"A couple of hours," he answered as his hand slid beneath her shirt.
She arched against his hand as he moved to caress one breast through the lace of her bra.
"Let’s get you undressed," he whispered urgently against her lips, before their lips met in a fiery kiss, tongues dueling, teeth clashing. He pulled back briefly to whisper harshly, "I need you."
Mac didn’t miss the desperation in his words, nor his actions. Every caress of his hands, lick of his tongue, and movement of his body against hers spoke volumes to her. Some demon was riding him hard, and he was unintentionally conveying that to her. It felt to Mac like Jon was afraid this was the last time he would make love to her. He had removed her clothes with a need that had quickly washed away her drowsiness and carried her away on a wave of desire. What was it that was bothering him? With new found ease, she slid into his head.
What is bothering you? she asked him as his lips pulled on her nipple.
We’ll talk about it later, amore mio, he replied, as one of his hands glided down her belly and into the curls at her center, unerringly finding her swollen clit.
"Jon," she gasped. "Please."
Please what? he asked. His finger moving against her clit in perfect rhythm with her heartbeat.
"Oh God," she breathed, bucking her hips against his hand. She clutched at his shoulders.
Jon raised his head from her breast and looked down into her flushed face; he wanted to watch her come for him. You’re mine, Mac, admit it. The contact of their minds allowed him to feel her reactions to his touch, and he knew she was close to her orgasm. Slowing the movement of his fingers, he ordered again, Admit it, Mac.
She moved against him urgently. Yes, yes, I’m yours.
With her admission, he picked up his pace again, even as his hips pushed his erection against the heated skin of her hip. Her orgasm washed over him, and gritting his teeth against the pleasure, he raised himself above her and plunged inside her with an insatiable need, before the waves of her climax had receded. She cried out with ecstasy. His name a reverent prayer on her lips as she quickly found release again. Without realizing what she was doing, she pulled his neck down and sank her fangs into his jugular, drinking deeply as his hips ground against her and his own explosion followed hers.
Jon collapsed on the bed next to her, pulling her tightly against him. Even his embrace seemed filled with desperation to Mac. As together they tried to catch their breath and let their heartbeats slow, he knew what he had to do now.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
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