Oracle's Moon (Elder Races #4)(42)

He heard himself whisper, “I miss my daughter.”

Grace gripped his shoulder hard, her gaze filling with such pained compassion, he had to look away as Chloe slipped off his lap. Grace said, “I’ll be just a minute.”

He gestured with a hand. It was of no consequence to him whether she was just a minute or many minutes.

She hesitated then left with Chloe and Max. He stood to walk over to the doorway and look out at the deepening evening. A family of raccoons waddled placidly across the lawn.

There was no reason for him to stay any longer. He had accomplished what he had meant to do and visited with the children. He would go.

He didn’t go.

He held himself tensely, trying to soak up that precious something, that invisible treasure. Grace finished saying good night to the children. He listened to her light, uneven footsteps as she approached. He didn’t turn around.

She stopped just behind him. He knew she was going to reach out. He sensed her hand hovering in the air at his back.

Before she could touch him, he turned and gave her a silken smile. “Why don’t we play another round of the truth game?”

She froze, startled, her hand suspended. Wariness crept into her eyes, and the softness in her expression firmed. “Why?”

He moved away from her and prowled around the room. “Why not?”

She turned to track his movements. “That’s not an answer.”

Her energy had roused. She was bristling. Good. Bristling was good. He picked up one of her textbooks, read the spine and set it aside. He picked up another. “I don’t owe you an answer. We haven’t started another round yet.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Screw your game and your rounds and your forfeit. Just talk already, like a rational creature. If you have something to say, say it.”

“Fine.” He slammed the second book down and turned on her. “Why did you call me your friend?”

Silence pulsed between them. He watched her so closely, he saw her blink several times. Her face worked. Pain or laughter or a little of both; he wasn’t sure. Definitely a flash of anger. She said, “Because right now you’re the closest thing to a friend that I’ve got.”

“Katherine,” he said.

“She’s very caring. I don’t know what I would do without her. She loves the children, and she misses my sister almost as much as I do, but she was Petra’s friend. She’s not really my friend. She and I don’t really talk or share confidences.” Grace shrugged and looked out the window. Her eyes glittered. “I know,” she said, very low and bitter. “You’re not really my friend either. We have a bargain.”

He dissolved and reformed in front of her. She flinched back as he took her by the shoulders. He wanted to shake her for her naiveté. He wanted to shout at her for her foolish compassion and generosity. He wanted to rage through the house and across the land, and tear down this precious invisible thing he didn’t understand. He wanted to dislike her again and fight with her and—

She looked incredulous. Then she did something that truly astonished him. “Come here,” she said.

As he froze, staring, she put both hands to the back of his neck and pulled his head down with such bewildering confidence, he allowed her to get away with it, if for no other reason but to see what she would do next. He bent, and she put her arms around his neck, and she gave him a full-bodied hug as tight as the one Chloe had given him, until her arms trembled from the strength she put into it.

And she didn’t just hug him physically. She hugged him with all of her spirit, her fiery warm presence settling against his, femininity to masculinity, Power to Power.

“I can’t imagine how much you miss your daughter,” she whispered. “But I know how much I miss my family. And it hurts very much.”

He had torn down the stones at the entrance to an ancient pharaoh’s funeral temple at Saqqara. He had caused earthquakes, raised hurricanes, leveled mountains. He had waged war with a first generation Djinn, one of the strongest of his kind, and he had won. He could shred Grace into pieces in an instant. He had thought he was so much older, wiser and more powerful than she.

But this. This.

He wrapped his arms and his Power around her. His head was just an illusion. He did not know why it felt so heavy. Still, he rested it on her slender shoulder, and she stroked the back of his head.

“You cannot take it back,” he said. His voice was muffled against her skin.

“Take what back?” she asked.

Their bargain. The truths they had exchanged. Her angry, funny quips. The gifts of food, drink, laughter and compassion. Her permission to visit with the children. Her promise to call him so he could watch over them. The claim to friendship.

He raised his head. He said, “Any of it.”

Her skin was flush with gentle color like a ripe peach. Her lips looked exceeding soft, full and luscious. She opened her mouth to say something again, to question, argue, prevaricate or to say something unbearably wise.

He decided he wouldn’t let her. So he cupped the back of her head, tilted her back and kissed her.

Nine

Grace couldn’t remember an evening she had enjoyed more. Watching Khalil with the children was a breathtaking experience, one small, miraculous moment unfolding after another.

Yes, his alien appearance and strength emphasized their human fragility, but their bright happiness at his companionship emphasized his gentleness and the care he took with them, and they blossomed under his attention. Grace told herself she kept a close eye on him to make sure nothing else inappropriate like the doggie-cat incident happened again. But that was such a bad lie, she couldn’t fool herself. She was watching him so closely because he was such a pleasure to watch.