08-24-2020, 03:44 AM
The line clicked off and the cab of the vehicle went quiet. He closed his eyes, feeling the deep silence as if it pressed in around him.
The Chongg Ran came on him without thought, enveloping him. That had never happened before. He felt peace permeate him, extending his senses out from his body, hyperaware of everything around him.
He felt more than heard the movement of the women in the back as a stirring of the air. The whisper of feet and Valeriya's spicy sweet scent filling his nostrils spoke of her presence before he felt her hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to marvel at her, eyes emerald embers that smoldered with life, full lips curved, hair wild in chaotic disarray, as if windswept, the memory of the frenzy in her eyes, the jerking movement of hand as fist clenched and unclenched, scrabbling for flesh or sheets, something to steady her as she rode the wave to its crest.
Her voice was warm and firm and he paused, remembering her reaction to the vision. He looked at her, curious. "The man who is titled Pope." He wanted to see her reaction.
Before she could speak, the door whispered again, and Rowan appeared, hair in some semblance of order, face and hair bright as the sun, the gown she wore seeming to flow around her as she walked. She came up behind Valeriya and slipped her hand around her waist to pull her close, whispering of their night together.
He smiled at the two. To Rowan and Valeriya he spoke, "The fourth from your vision will be joining us. Pope Patricus. It seems he was called in a dream." He well remembered the man's exclamation. There was no doubt he'd had the same.
He looked at Valeriya, considering. "Be aware, my Love, the man is thin skinned." He laughed after a moment. "Do not completely take his hide from him." Mostly a joke. He trusted Valeriya not to kill the man. But she'd have even less interest in his position than Armande did.
Strangely, he was a bit interested in seeing what happened. He smiled at Rowan, his voice a bit sly. "We may have to play peacemaker." It was funny. Peace was never his stock and trade.
The Chongg Ran came on him without thought, enveloping him. That had never happened before. He felt peace permeate him, extending his senses out from his body, hyperaware of everything around him.
He felt more than heard the movement of the women in the back as a stirring of the air. The whisper of feet and Valeriya's spicy sweet scent filling his nostrils spoke of her presence before he felt her hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to marvel at her, eyes emerald embers that smoldered with life, full lips curved, hair wild in chaotic disarray, as if windswept, the memory of the frenzy in her eyes, the jerking movement of hand as fist clenched and unclenched, scrabbling for flesh or sheets, something to steady her as she rode the wave to its crest.
Her voice was warm and firm and he paused, remembering her reaction to the vision. He looked at her, curious. "The man who is titled Pope." He wanted to see her reaction.
Before she could speak, the door whispered again, and Rowan appeared, hair in some semblance of order, face and hair bright as the sun, the gown she wore seeming to flow around her as she walked. She came up behind Valeriya and slipped her hand around her waist to pull her close, whispering of their night together.
He smiled at the two. To Rowan and Valeriya he spoke, "The fourth from your vision will be joining us. Pope Patricus. It seems he was called in a dream." He well remembered the man's exclamation. There was no doubt he'd had the same.
He looked at Valeriya, considering. "Be aware, my Love, the man is thin skinned." He laughed after a moment. "Do not completely take his hide from him." Mostly a joke. He trusted Valeriya not to kill the man. But she'd have even less interest in his position than Armande did.
Strangely, he was a bit interested in seeing what happened. He smiled at Rowan, his voice a bit sly. "We may have to play peacemaker." It was funny. Peace was never his stock and trade.