Sorry that it's taken me so long to update. I've been working too hard at work and when I come home, all I want to do is sleep. lol Anyway, enjoy! Please R&R and please no sue-ie. I have no money. lol
Weeks had passed since New Years and Trent's last encounter with Rachel at Carew Tower. He had made the Pandora Charm and instructed Jonathan to send it to her well over two weeks ago and heard nothing from her. He knew it couldn't be due to the memory he'd chosen to invoke. She'd remembered her vampire lover's death on her own, even discovered the bodies of the murderer and his scion in the old tunnels under the city. Knowing that the IS would simply cover up the crime and hide what had happened, Rachel had somehow sealed the tomb, using a curse that was so powerful, it dropped the levers f the ley line energy all over the city. Everyone felt it, even if they didn't know what it was.
So if it wasn't the memory, then why hadn't Rachel contacted him? The memory of their ride together was important to him. He could still feel the press of her twelve-year-old bod against his back, her arms tight around his waist, holding him close. He'd felt oddly aroused with her so near to him. When she'd fallen and hit her head, knocking her not only unconscious, but forcing the air from her lungs, he'd been terrified. The lab techs quickly found them in the field while he crouched over her, trying to wake her desperately. He refused to leave her side when they took her to the medical cabin and insisted that his father personally check her over. Even when sleep pulled at him, he simply curled up in a chair and fell asleep, his head resting on the bed beside her.
Lee had teased him mercilessly about it, constantly singing, "Trent and Rachel, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" It was one of the deciding factors of Trent trapping him in that cave for days. When Rachel recovered in the morning, then threw him against a tree with line energy, he'd been stunned and hurt, in more than one way. It felt like rejection and his father had blocked him from interacting with her before he dismissed her from the camp. Over the years, he'd tried to forget about her, which was easier said than done. He'd taken to keeping a distant eye on her and her career. When she'd left the IS, he'd intended on bringing her into the company and closer to him. Of course, like anything that involved Rachel, that turned out wrong.
Sighing, Trent shifted in his office chair. The room was empty and silent, everything neat and tidy, all things in their place. Even the paperwork semi-spread out in front of him was organized. It was his mind that was in chaos. Thoughts and memories tangled in his head, wants and needs tore through his heart. At the same time, he felt honour bound to leave the damned witch alone and settle down with an elven woman. It didn't help that Rachel could kindle demon magic. Nor did the fact that her children would be demons, unless Trent succeeded.
The fair haired elf frowned deeply, green eyes looking over the paperwork but seeing nothing. It was in these moments that Trent was most angry with Rachel. When it seemed his soul was crying out for her, even though his mind screamed back that she was no good. It didn't seem to matter how often or how convincingly he tried to convince himself of the fact that Rachel was not his match, his heart wouldn't give her up. Even when he'd been planning to marry Elizabeth, a perfectly good, however perfectly cold, elven woman, he wanted Rachel. He couldn't stay away from her.
A sound similar to a growl escaped Trent's full lips and a large hand grasped for the phone in the top right corner of his over-sized desk. Thick fingers quickly punched a series of numbers as his other hand put the receiver to his slightly pointed ear. Two short rings and the soft, yet professional voice of his secretary came on the line.
"Yes, Mr. Kalamack?" she asked sweetly. Trent raise a brow and fought a sigh. Her school-girl crush on him was irritating at best.
"Please inform Quen that I'll be gong out today," he instructed calmly. "And call the garage. I need the Mustang made ready for me."
"Will you be needing a driver, sir?"
"No, I'll be driving myself today," he returned gruffly. The last thing he needed was a babysitter. No doubt Jon would try to stop him, especially if he knew where he was going. Quen would probably run distraction for him, but that would take time to organize. Time was not something Trent felt he had at the moment. "Thank you, Sara Jane."
He was moving before he even settled the phone back in it's cradle. His tall, broad frame rippled under the fine cloth of his suit as he nearly marched determinedly out of his office, past the starry eyed receptionist with her blond hair and well-pressed suit and down the hall. He barely even noticed the people in the building as he moved through the corridors. He would give polite nods and smiles to all he came into contact with, even if only briefly but still managed to make it to the garage in record time. Like the good little employees he'd trained them all to be, his car was ready, started and warmed up for him and he slid behind the wheel easily. As he was driving out of the garage, he noticed Jonathan making his way towards him, a very displeased look on his face. Trent merely smiled and waved before he gunned the engine an took off without him.
The drive to Rachel's little church was always long, but for some reason, today was longer. His mind kept going over his various encounters with her before settling on the memory of their trip to the ever-after together. Specifically when she'd fallen asleep in that defunct church while waiting for Jenks to retrieve the DNA sample. She'd looked very peaceful curled on her side, green eyes closed and wild red curls tumbling over her face. She slept soundly, not even stirring when he could no longer help himself and tucked a surprisingly soft curl behind her small ear. When she opened her mouth and let out a snore loud enough to cause an avalanche, Trent jumped back, rolling his eyes and laughing softly not only to himself, but at himself.
That memory always made him smile, if only softly. He'd had to fight himself to keep from curling up around her, pulling her into his arms and holding her while they both slept. His body ached for it, but getting distracted in demon country would not have been wise, regardless of the fact that they were in a church and the demons were outside. Of course, the things he'd wanted to do to her right there in front of the angel statue would have probably desecrated the ground and allowed the demons to run amok. Trent shifted in the driver seat as he felt an all too familiar stirring from deep inside.
Before too long, he had reached his destination. The church was quiet in the early afternoon sun, snow clinging to the roof and grounds like a stubborn blanket, refusing to pull away and allow the building to wake. With a deep sigh, Trent shut off the engine, eyeing the windows for any signs of movement as he got out of the car and locked the doors behind him. He'd hoped he hadn't come too early as Rachel was bitchier than normal when woken too soon. All he needed was for that insufferable woman to start her nagging before he developed the nerve to say what he needed to say. Of course, she was also sexier than most times when she held that slightly rumpled look of interrupted sleep. It was one of the reasons he tended to bother her before he knew she was awake.
With only a few quick strides, Trent reached the heavy wooden door. He balled his fist and knocked loudly, hearing it echo inside and smiling softly to himself. The smile only grew as the seconds and minutes ticked by with no sound from inside. She's asleep. He knocked louder and gave a soft chuckle when he finally heard cussing from inside. The door flew open to reveal a satisfactorily pissy and messy Rachel, her curls flying around her head like it had a mind of its own. Her small body wore only a thin pair of pj bottoms, the colour of the midnight sky, and a black, spaghetti strapped tank top. Her nipples pressed against the thin fabric as the cold air caressed her and Trent bit back a groan.
"What in the Turn do you want, Trent?" she spat at him, her eyes glittering with anger even while dulled with sleep. Her brow was pinched in a frown and her lips slightly parted, showing her white teeth in what looked like a snarl but not quite reaching it.
"May I come in, Rachel?" he said finally, a little disappointed when his voice came out as a husky purr, however satisfied when Rachel's face changed to a slightly shocked expression and she shivered. It could have just been from the chill of the January afternoon, but it made her body move in such a tempting way. When she moved aside after a few moments of silent debate, Trent brushed past her, making sure the sleeve of his blazer lightly touched the front of her body. He walked until he was in the centre of the sanctuary, then turned to see here still standing by the door, which remained wide open. "If I'm not mistaken, you have a family of pixies residing in your church, do you not, Rachel? The cold air isn't good for them." At the reminder, the little witch actually jumped and slammed the door shut, sliding the locks into place quickly. Trent smiled again as he watched her.
When she turned back to him, she was angry again, but not as much as before. "I repeat, you thick elf, what in the Turn are you doing here? Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Indeed I do, Rachel, but it makes little difference. You're awake now." When all she did was cross her arms under those oh-so inviting breasts of hers and glare at him, he continued. "I came to see how the charm worked for you. I'd rather hoped to hear from you about it by now."
A guilty look flashed over her face before she looked at the floor. Trent smirked and expected her to scuff her bare toe on the floor in an awe shucks motion. "I haven't done it yet," she said softly. She quickly recovered her fire and looked back up at him defiantly. "Been a little busy, you know? Shunned and all." Then she turned from him and walked out of the room, down the hall to the kitchen. Slowly, Trent followed her, his green eyes resting on the curve of her rear as it filled out those midnight blue lounge pants so well.
"From what I understand," he said slowly, "not much business has come your way since the shunning, and what has ventured to your doorway are jobs flavoured with assassination and various other things you find distasteful."
At the coffee pot, Rachel turned to glare at him. "Well, you should know, shouldn't you?" she growled at him. "You're the one that put the shunning on me."
Shock rippled through him before he quickly remembered that he'd allowed her to think that rather than telling her the truth. His head dipped and his hand came up to smooth his hair while he took a deep, calming breath. He ground his teeth and tried not to moan when the smell of redwood filled his lungs. It wasn't fair for her to smell that damned good. When he looked up, he found her watching him while holding a very large cup of coffee before her nose.
"I'm not here to argue with you, Rachel," he said in a low voice. Irritation flared through him when she smirked at him.
"Why are you here then, Trent?" she asked as she cocked her hip to the side, wrapping one arm over her midsection while the other had held the coffee.
Try as he might, he couldn't make the words come out of his mouth. The seemed lodged in his throat somehow, making him choke slightly. He watched her, knowing his face had changed by her expression. She looked almost concerned for him and moved to put the coffee cup on the counter. He took that moment of distraction to quickly close the distance between them and pull her into his arms. Her face was shocked as she looked up at him, her mouth making that perfect little "O" of surprise. It was too tempting and he bent his head to taste her.
The kiss was timid at first, starting with only Trent making an effort. Rachel was rod stiff along his front, not fighting but not cooperating either. The energy spindled in both seemed to melt them together, though, and Rachel soon relaxed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her slender fingers going into his fine hair. Her mouth was warm and tasted of honey and coffee, her scent filling his longs as his tongue swept along her bottom lip, seeking acceptance. She quickly complied, opening her mouth for his thorough examination.
Then the itch started, quickly spreading from the back of his neck down his back. He leapt away from Rachel's still compliant form with a yelp, his eyes shooting up to find that damned bug grinning wickedly at him. "You little pest!" he shouted, leaping up in a vain attempt to try and pluck the four-inch man from the air. The pixy squealed with laughter and flew out of his reach.
"Serves you right for trying to kill Rachel!" Jenks cried down to him, still laughing in an eye-piercing squeal.