ALEJO
Alejo loved waking up with Wendy pressed against him, her soft hair on his shoulder. One of her breasts warmed his arm. Mmmm. He wanted very much to stroke that breast, but stayed his hand for the moment, cherishing everything about Wendy. He loved the light sound of her breathing. Even if she snored like a buffalo, he knew he would love it because it was a part of her.
Mmmm. Should he be generous and let her sleep? Or do what he really wanted, which was to begin with that breast, tonguing her awake, then begin kissing his way along the rest of her sweet curves, until he brought her ready for him?
Then his drowsy consciousness reached past her to the day’s tasks—and with a jolt he remembered his daughter at the other end of the house. His daughter!
He must have reacted, because Wendy stirred, and murmured, “Hold me…”
Alejo was very ready to do that, his mythic lion purring deep within him.MATE. NEST, like some kind of subterranean nanny. Then it was Wendy’s turn to react: her sleepy eyes flew open,sproing!“Oriane,” she gasped.
“I think we’d better get up and face the day,” he said with a sigh.
She had already whirled out of bed, though she paused to look over her shoulder at him. “You know … we’d be more efficient if we showered together…”
He was out of the bed and inside the bathroom at 60 MPH.
When they were under the water together, Wendy said, “If she ate the dinner I left out, I’ll take that as a good sign. Do you think she’d like waffles?”
“I think anyone would have to be a robot not to love your waffles. But I have to admit I don’t know what they usually eat for breakfast in France, other than the crepes you see in TV shows.”
“Waffles it is,” Wendy said, and then hummed, her face turned up into the water as his soapy hands ran over her delicious body. And lingered in her heat.
“Oh, yes, more of that,” she whispered—and then hoisted one of those dancer’s legs up around his hip, inviting him in. They stood against the shower wall, warm water blasting them both as he filled her so perfectly, so sweetly. They rose to urgency together, her little gasping cry causing him to crash over the edge after her. Then she leaned against him, laughing a little. “My knees have turned to water.”
“Clearly we need to practice this more,” he suggested, and she laughed more.
Reluctantly they finished up and toweled off. Alejo wanted to watch her dress, but her expression had sobered as she said, “Thirteen. Didn’t you say her mother wants her enrolled in school?”
“Roxane gave me a file of paperwork to be handed off to school administration. Apparently they travel a lot, and Roxane is well prepared for red tape in most countries. But first I’ve got to coax her out of that bedroom before we toss her into a pit of other thirteen-year-olds.”
With that, they went out together. When they reached the kitchen, he saw Wendy look about for the food she’d left out. Alejo noted with relief that not only had the food been eaten, but the dishes had been washed and were drying in the drainer.At least our teen is housebroken, Wendy’s thought reached him, her voice over the mate connection shimmering with laughter.
Alejo grinned, and left her to her kitchen prep as he ventured to the shut door to the guest room, and knocked. “Good morning, Oriane,” he said. “I wondered if you would like a flying lesson today. Breakfast will be ready soon,” he said.
No answer, but this time he could sense a presence on the other side of the door. Though she’s scarcely said a word, instinct prompted him to try Spanish as he repeated what he’d just said—or began to.
Before he got to the words about breakfast, the door opened, and Oriane stood there, her eyes very red under the heavy makeup. “You speak Spanish?” she asked in that language.
“I do,” he said. “I grew up speaking it as well as English.”
“I did not know! I have an aunt in Barcelona,” Oriane said in a rush. “And we spent six months in Madrid when I was ten. English, I can read it. We learn English in every school, having tests on reading. But we don’t talk. At the airport, everyone talked so quickly. And they run their words together. I did not understand anything! I feel so stupid,” she burst out.
“Whoa, whoa,” Alejo said, now on sure ground. “What you’re going through is what happens to most of us if we learn a language mainly in school. Especially English. Whole semesters, I’m told, are spent on the absolute madness that is spelling in English.”
“It’s terrible,” Oriane said fervently.
“The good news is, the more you talk, the faster you will get it. Come on out and have some breakfast, okay? Then would you like a flying lesson? We can go down to the beach, where the sand is soft. It’s the landings that are tough. That, and remembering to engage your stealth ability.”
Oriane’s eyes widened. “Stealth,” she repeated.
“As a simurgh, you should be able to stealth,” he promised as they entered the kitchen.
Oriane went straight to Sam, who looked up a little worried. Oriane stuck out her wrist. “My soap, it does not …” She looked at Alejo, saying a quick phrase in Spanish.
“Trigger your allergies,” Alejo supplied, smiling.
Sam sniffed, then said, “It smells nice. So did the other one. I’m sorry.”
