Page 38

Kara made a sound, waking me.

It was Sunday morning, no alarm set, and our room was filled with bright sunlight.

At some point in the night, I’d turned on my side and snuggled into her. Or she’d wriggled back into me. Whichever it was, my arm was around her, my palm cupping her bare breast, and her ass pressed firmly into my groin.

I tensed, then began to extricate myself before she awoke, withdrawing my arm.

But she was already awake. She grabbed my hand before I could escape, holding it to her breast. “Five more minutes?”

I hesitated, but the warmth of her nakedness was too tempting. I sagged back into the bed, and she tugged my hand back into place, pressing my palm to her nipple.

Her butt squirmed, and that was when I became aware of my morning arousal, my loose boxers doing little to hide it. Awkward, but Kara didn’t seem to mind. She settled her hips, deliberately rubbing her ass against me, and gave a soft sigh.

It was a pleasant way to wake up, and if she didn’t object, I could see no reason to.

We lay mostly still, but now and then Kara would twitch, or her muscles would tense. After a few moments of this, I lifted my head, checking on her. One hand held mine firmly to her breast, but her other arm extended down her body, her hand between her legs.

I let my head sink back into the pillow and closed my eyes.

It made it easier to feel each small movement she made, and breathe in the fresh, clean scent of her hair.

Her sighs grew more frequent as time went on, until one escaped as a little high-pitched gasp.

Her body strained, back arching, hips pressing hard into me as she sought friction.

Then she sighed softly, her body slumping as she relaxed, and squirmed back closer beneath my arm, her breathing light and fast.

She made a contented sound, drew my hand up from her breast, kissed my fingers, and settled it back where it had been.

That was unexpectedly affectionate, but welcome.

My rules were bending, and it was clear neither of us cared.

I considered it as we lay there, her breathing gradually slowing, and decided I was just fine with that.

The pace wasn’t rushed, and if she could find some pleasure amid the current chaos, she deserved to.

I gave her breast a gentle squeeze, and she pressed back into me with a soft, happy sound.

Part of me wanted to lie there all morning, but now that I was awake, my mind returned to worrying at the problems that plagued me, and my relaxed mood faded away.

Kara noticed the change, slipping from beneath my arm and padding off toward the en suite, the light catching the perfect curve of her ass.

I couldn’t hate Moreau more—not when he had stripped this from me, the quiet we’d shared, the brief calm before everything inevitably fell apart.

I got up, pulling on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and wandered out to see what Iyoni was up to. Maybe her unique brand of insanity could distract me.

She was still in bed too, lying on the sofa with the blanket half over her, wearing her white T-shirt and on her phone.

“How’s the game going?”

She glanced up at me, lips quirking faintly. “Reading the news, actually.”

“Dare I ask?” I walked into the kitchen to make some coffee, the tiles cold against my bare feet.

“You probably don’t want to, but there’s no avoiding it.” She dropped the phone beside her with a sigh. “There was an incident last night. A fight broke out at a nightclub, supes and norms both in attendance. It escalated fast. Five dead supes and thirteen dead norms, and a bunch more in hospital.”

I let out an explosive breath. “I should probably go into the office. Marlow will need help.”

“Actually, it wasn’t in New Providence. It was in New York.”

“Shit. I don’t know if that’s worse. Tensions are building all over.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I agree. New Providence is the epicenter—Moreau was right about that—and now we’re seeing the tremors spread.”

I eyed her as I pulled out a mug, appreciating her clear-headed assessment. “What’s the response been?”

“Slow, thanks largely to it being Sunday. It’s all over the news, but most people are either in bed or church, and there hasn’t been much outcry. Yet.”

“Do you want a coffee? It’s ready.”

“Yes please. Black.” She pushed herself up, propping a cushion behind her, the blanket falling to her waist.

I poured us both a cup and carried it over. She took it gratefully, her fingers briefly brushing mine. I sat down on the sofa opposite, careful not to spill my drink. “Still wonder if I should go into the office.”

“That’s up to you, but …” She trailed off, blowing softly across the surface of her drink before taking a sip.

“What?”

“Well … there’s plenty of time to be in the office this coming week, and I think Kara needs you.”

I raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed. “Astute of you. I don’t think you’re wrong.”

“Gee, thanks.” She tilted her head with mock-offense, eyes quietly amused. “I do spend all my time observing, it’s not surprising I notice things.”

I chuckled softly. “You interfere a lot for someone who’s supposed to just be observing.”

“That’s because I find rules boring.”

“I can relate to that.” I fell silent, considering. “The issue is that if I don’t go into the office, I’m going to spend the day brooding on the clusterfuck that is my life, and that won’t be fun for anyone.”

“Can you do anything about it today?”

“I suppose not.”

“Well, then. Enjoy the day.”

She didn’t say it and maybe she didn’t mean it, but I still heard ‘it might be one of your last’, my mood already flavoring my thoughts. My gaze lingered on her for a moment, grateful in a way I couldn’t quite articulate. She met my eyes calmly, and a soft understanding passed between us.

“Screw it, I think you’re right. We should go out.”

“Go out where?” Kara said as she walked in, wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt, tight across her chest.

“I’ll take a shower, then.” Iyoni pushed back her blanket, getting up, and walked past us without any signs of self-consciousness. Despite the lacy black thong she was wearing beneath her short T-shirt.

Silence fell, holding until the bathroom door clicked shut.

“Did I disturb something?” Kara asked.

“No … we were considering what to do with the day. Thinking we should go out.”

“What, as in … have fun go out?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds good.” She paused for a beat. “Cute panties, huh.”

“I suppose. I guess I was more shocked they weren’t white.”

Kara grinned at me, and went to get a coffee.

*

We drove down to Roger Williams Park; Iyoni folded into the back seat without complaint.

It was mostly empty when we pulled in, the kind of quiet that came with cold air and wet leaves.

Kara parked under a bare-limbed oak, engine ticking as it cooled.

We walked in silence for a while, taking in the muffled stillness of late fall.

Iyoni wandered off the path, kicking up wet leaves like she was five.

She’d traded up her jacket for a long white leather overcoat that swished around her legs.

Kara reached for my hand as we strolled along.

The sun was out but distant, all light and no heat. The wind carried a bite.

We walked without any plan, following the loop. No one said much. It was the kind of day that didn’t ask for talking. We passed a couple walking a stiff-legged old dog, someone jogging with music too loud. It was peaceful, and exactly what I needed.

We passed the memorial to Old Providence. It wasn’t much, just a slab of polished granite, engraved with a simple ‘1952 - Lest We Forget’. I paused beside it, picked up a discarded Mountain Dew bottle and helped it on its way to the nearby trash can. Iyoni’s eyes tracked every movement.

“They’ve forgotten, haven’t they?” Kara said, her voice hushed.

I shrugged. “People have short memories.”

We reached the Japanese garden and Kara crouched by the koi pond, watching for movement in the water.

I stood back, hands in my coat pockets, breathing in the cold like it might clear something out.

“Are you hungry?” Iyoni asked, eyeing the café near the Carousel Village.

We wandered over to the walk-up window and got burgers. The carousel wasn’t running, but families with young children played nearby, wrapped up in thick coats. Some loud teens had taken over two of the tables, bikes on the ground around them being harmlessly rude and obnoxious.

An ice supe was entertaining his young daughter, making it snow for her.

Happy giggles rang through the air. A woman in her sixties pursed her lined mouth and tutted her disapproval.

The supe ignored her, so she tutted louder, leaning across her table to make snide comments to her friend, her sharp voice carrying words like ‘with a child’ and ‘shameless’.

The laughter faded, and the supe swung his daughter onto his shoulders, walking past the bitter woman as he carried her to the café.

“Can we get ice cream, papa?” the girl asked in a high-pitched voice.

“It’s too cold,” her father responded. “You can have a cookie.”

Kara watched them as she ate her burger. “You know,” she said softly, “I don’t think my father ever carried me on his shoulders.”

“I’m certain mine didn’t,” I added.

She turned to me. “Did you know them?”

“Not really. My first foster family told me my mom was young and pretty, but left me with nothing more than a name and a date of birth.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara said. “That must be hard.”

I gave a wry smile. “Having met your parents, it makes it a lot easier not knowing mine.”

She gave a dry laugh. “Fair. What about you, Iyoni?”

“My parents are both half-celestials. They live in Washington.”

“Do you get on with them okay?”

“Oh yeah. Mostly,” Iyoni said, talking around a mouthful of burger. “They think I’m a bit odd, but were very proud when I became an Arbiter.”

“You are odd,” Kara said. “I think I’d like your parents.”