A.N. Just a li'l shameless promotion folks. I put up a new fan fiction board. The link is in my profile for those interested. It hosts mostly wrestling, but also a few others.
Also... The language in this chapter is Cherokee. Most of it is pretty easy to understand if you follow the context clues. END A.N.
Chapter 8
Talia snuggled against the warmth that was pressed against her side.
"Come on, little girl," he coaxed, his voice a deep rumble against her ear.
"Hmm mmm. Don' wanna," she murmured, burying her face in the warmth, encountering a scratchiness against her cheek. "I'm comfer'ble." She sighed, willing herself back to sleep.
An amused chuckle sounded. "You win."
"Mmm hmm," she acknowledged, too sleepy to be aware she was no longer sitting on the couch. She wrapped her arms around her carrier and relaxed.
This was better than sleeping on a cloud.
A hand was rubbing her back soothingly and she felt weightless. Something soft brushed against her hand and she frowned as the bed took her weight.
The mattress dipped and shifted as she refused to relinquish her hold on the warm presence that tended to her.
"Talia, let go of me, please," he said, laughing.
She shifted closer to his heat. "Hmm mmm. Warm."
He sighed, prying her fingers loose from where they were linked together behind his head. "'Night, sweetheart."
She grabbed him before he could leave and pulled his head down to hers, holding his face in her hands and planting a soft kiss on his mouth. "G'nigh'." Letting him go, she flopped back against the mattress and welcomed sleep.
The harsh Texas sun was beaming through the open window blinds and she cursed it loudly when she awoke late the next morning.
Her thigh felt better, just a little sore compared to the previous days pain, and she limped to a shower then downstairs.
Voices could be heard coming from the kitchen and she gasped in surprise when she walked in.
"Kevin!" She ignored the pain in her leg and moved quickly to him, wrapping her arms around him.
"Well, damn, girl. I'm glad to see you, too." He gave her a fond squeeze, then returned to his chair.
"Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?" someone groused from behind her.
"Scott, you're not chopped liver," she said, hugging him as well. "Lunchmeat, maybe." She flashed him a winning smile.
He looked across the kitchen at Mark. "How do you deal with this little hellion?"
Mark had one hip propped against the counter with his big tattooed arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were glittering brightly with something she couldn't place and he wore a scowl. The man managed to look delectable despite himself.
He grumbled something in return before staring into his coffee mug.
"So what are you guys doing here?" she asked the former Outsiders.
Kevin spoke first. "We've been doing a little sightseeing and shopping around."
Talia put her hands on her hips and lifted a brow. "Frickin' liar."
Scott laughed. "Actually we've been talking to McMahon about getting back into the game."
"Really? You think he'll bite?"
"We hope so. Both of us have already talked to the top dogs at NWA:TNA and hopefully that'll help ole Vinnie Mac with his decision." Kevin shrugged. "Either way, we want to put the Outsiders back together."
"Awesome! Now I'll get to watch you guys live again."
The four of them sat around the table, talking over lunch, attempting to catch up on the last five months. After, she showed the two men to the door, hugging each of them.
Mark was behind her, waving them off and he spun her around after she shut the door. "Do you know someone named Naomi Daniels?"
Talia looked up at him like he'd grown another head. "It's my grandmother, but how did…"
"She called while you were asleep. Gave me a message to have you call her."
"Can I-"
"It's as much your house, as it is mine. Go on." He smiled down at her, but it looked a bit sad and Talia promised herself she would ask him about it as soon as she made the call.
She grabbed the cordless and sat on the couch, dialing the number she knew by heart.
The line was picked up on the first ring. "Hello?" came the deeply accented voice.
"U-li-si, it's Talia."
The elderly woman made a sound of joy. "I was so worried, u-s-di. Where are you? Are you all right? Who was that man that answered? He's not hurting you, is he?"
Talia laughed. "Slow down, u-li-si. Slow. U-s-ka-no-la. I'm fine. Mark would never hurt me."
She looked up to see Mark in the doorway and smiled at him. He still looked a little strange and Talia was beginning to get nervous.
"Are you listening, a-ge-yu-tsa?"
Talia turned her attention back to the woman on the phone. "What?"
"That man is there, isn't he."
"He's standing in the doorway, u-li-si, so behave."
-
Mark watched Talia as she spoke on the phone.
He hadn't been able to sleep all night and his mood hadn't improved with the dawn. All he could think about, feel, taste on his lips was Talia's kiss.
The soft, fluttery touch felt like heaven and it had almost crumbled what little bit of control he'd managed to hold onto over the last few days.
He was already weary of fighting what he felt. He was going to let things come as they may. He would make sure Talia wasn't hurt. He'd find a way.
Sighing, he headed for the garage and a little heavy metal relaxation.
His bike was in need of having the carburetor cleaned and a new set of spark plugs installed, and there was never a better time than now.
He grabbed a stool out of the corner of the not-so-neat garage and sat down beside the big Harley.
Wrench in hand, he removed the spark plugs and moved to the workbench in the back to grab the new set he'd bought.
"Mark, are you okay?"
He looked over his shoulder, taking the plugs back to his bike. "How was your call?" he asked, deliberately avoiding her question.
"Fine," she said, smiling affectionately at the mention of her grandmother. "My parents fed her some story." She frowned. "My dad goes to the reservation twice a year maybe, and he can do anything better for her than make her sick with worry."
Mark kept his mouth shut. He had a few choice words for her dad, but they weren't for her innocent ears.
She stooped down beside him on the concrete floor. "Watcha doin'?"
"It needed a tune up," he said simply.
"Are you mad at me?"
Mark hung his head, chuckling at his own misery. He sat like that for a moment before pinning her with a look. "No."
Concern lit her storm colored eyes as she studied his face. "What's wrong, then?"
He dragged a hand over his face, groaning in frustration. "You really wanna know?" He wondered how she'd react if she knew the complete truth.
She scooted closer, laying her hand on his arm. "Yes."
He looked over at her for a moment, then pressed his lips to hers, watching her intently for any signs of rejection.
There was a moment of stunned surprise, then her eyes slid shut and she laid her hand along the side of his face.
He stopped thinking as her soft lips parted in a silent plea for him to deepen his ministrations. He obliged her, slipping his tongue inside the moist cove, tasting, exploring, deflowering her, claming what was his.
He tore his mouth from hers with a harsh groan. "Talia, I'm sorry."
