Chapter Three: Stereo Storms of Sand and Snow
For many hours, Bane was in a stasis that was composed of both controlled frenzied and contained chaos. He had to care for his children until a trusted au pair could make her way to their isolated cabin with a pending blizzard.
The plane carrying Anja had reached high into the stratosphere and dodged the turbulent weather, had thwarted winds that might've brought them down.
In the many hours and time zones that passed, Anja was flown to the middle of the continent of Africa, the plane eventually landing on a long, poorly maintained airstrip.
She was quickly shuttled off the plane to a waiting group of off-road vehicles.
These sturdy, battered, diesel vehicles would get them as far as they could on wheels before Anja was picked up and carried to a caravan of waiting camels and horses.
Anja was settled in a covered wooden cart that was filled with large sacks of flour, sugar, and salt.
She was never handled poorly but wasn't moved about in a gentle manner either, Anja was reduced to the portability of a burlap sack full of chicken feed.
In Alaska, with the snow creating white-out visibility, Bane's former brother-in-arms was able to get to the remote cabin, was able to play Good Samaritan to the au pair who'd had a tire blow-out while on her way.
Bane welcomed the chilled to the bone au pair Madeline Swann and Doctor Cain Adamson.
The frozen pair drank cup after cup of coffee out of delicate China teacups.
The color slowly returned to Madeline and Cain's faces; his harsh port wine stain made more prominent as the warmth from the fireplace permeated his skin.
Madeline jumped to her feet at the same time Bane did when she heard Annalisa cry out from the low sofa.
"Let me take care of the children, you need space for more," Madeline whispered as she laid a hand on Bane's thick forearm.
Bane nodded his gratitude, anxious to speak with Cain.
He was eager to take back up the mantle of a warrior.
Close to salivating in anticipation of hunting down Jericho and taking his life.
Bane clenched his hands into tight fists, his scarred knuckles cracking as they ached to have and to hold Anja.
Outside the heavily insulated cabin in the remote landscape of Alaska, the snow raged, the individual and unique snowflakes slammed into each other with cataclysmic rage, the delicacies exploding into icy shards to fall to the ground, their final death a soundless landing, blanketed with the continual falling snow.
On the other side of the world, a sandstorm raged, a veil was haphazardly thrown over Anja's face to keep the grains of sand from speckling her, from aggravating her soft skin, the finely woven fabric offering a modicum of protection from the flying bits of sand mixed with the dry earth.
The raging wet and dry particles mirrored the inner upheaval to Bane and Jericho's central nervous systems, their brains were operating in overdrive, neurons firing in rapid concert with each other.
The storms would pass but the rage and fury would remain within each man's heart.
Inside Anja's uterus was a genetic storm of an entirely different physiological color.
The cell division continued, bolstering the developing embryo as Anja was rocked side to side as the wooden cart was pulled along a deeply rutted pathway that served as a sort of road.
The swaying lulled her into an uneasy sleep.
Jericho settled across from her, not willing to let her out of his sight until they were settled.
The sandstorm whipped up heavy winds, the air at once inside the cart changed, suddenly holding the scent of burnt peaches.
Jericho sniffed hard as he detected the aroma of scorched sugar and looked around at the heavy sacks of dry goods, leaning closer to Anja after she'd nodded off, moving withing inches of her face when he realized the intoxicating fragrance was emanating from her body.
He leaned closer to Anja, his skin-weathered nose centimeters from her lips. Jericho inhaled, pulling the distinct aroma of a peach tarte tatin deep into his lungs.
Jericho would never be privy to the moment that Anja's body chemistry changed after the birth of Sebastian.
He would never know the moment that Bane noticed the change in the smell of her skin and every exhale.
A good amount of time had passed after the birth of Sebastian, the birth had been difficult for Anja, and she'd needed extra time to heal and even longer before she felt like she was back to as close to normal as she could be.
It had been a reasonably pleasant day and Anja had several windows of the house open, both ovens on and baking up a storm.
Bane had been sleeping, Sebastian cradled in his massive arms, as deeply asleep as his father.
Bane stirred when the smell of warm vanilla reached his nose, he rose and settled his son in the bassinet before finding Anja in the kitchen, scraping a paring knife along a bisected vanilla pod.
She looked over at him, giving him a small smile before she began to whip air into a bowl of heavy cream.
Bane watched her body move with the rhythmic stirring against the steady backdrop of the whisk sounding in a metallic staccato against the bottom of the glass bowl.
Anja felt his eyes, felt a wash of discomfort in his scrutiny.
Her body had changed with the recent birth, and she was still getting used to some of the subtle differences within her body.
"You're staring," Anja murmured as she brought forth soft peaks in the cream.
"Yes," Bane stated as he pushed away from the doorway, closing the distance between them until he could settle behind her, loosely wrapping his arms around her midsection.
She inhaled sharply and shifted when he slipped a hand under her blouse, his palm warm on her soft belly.
Bane tightened his hold when Anja tried to squirm out of his arms.
"Wait," she managed as she dropped the bowl to the counter before gripping his wrists, flecks of vanilla crammed under her fingernails.
Bane made soothing sounds, no coherent words as he turned her around to face him, his hands sliding up to cup her face, drawing a thumb along her lips before he spoke.
"You are perfect," he rasped as he slid his hands to her waist, lifting her in the air and carrying her to the oblong dining room table.
Anja let out the breath she'd been holding when he laid her back on the cool surface of the polished table.
Bane pushed her long skirt up to bunch around her hips before urging her to spread her thighs far apart, he sensed lingering hesitation and dropped his face to run his tongue over the stretch marks on her inner thighs.
His breath was hot against her skin, making Anja arch her back, encouraging him to draw his tongue upwards in a wet path, gently tracing the marks that stood out on the slack skin of her belly.
Anja reached down and cupped her kneecaps, drawing her legs back and further apart, wanting Bane's touch to be deeper, more.
Bane growled as his cock twinged, began to race, pulse with need.
He lifted his face so he could see all of her intimate center, licking his lips as he teased his fingertips through her silken wet folds, bobbing his index finger against her tight opening until she was rocking her hips in concert with his touch.
He lowered his face, replacing the touch of his fingertips with his tongue as he tasted her, dipping his tongue shallowly in and out of her wet opening.
Anja began to gasp in time with each flick against her clit, the sensitivity rising with his continued touch until she grew dripping wet in her slickness. He shifted, reaching down to free his cock which felt positively trapped behind its zippered enclosure, springing free with near-painful hardness.
Bane stroked his hand, slick with her wetness, along his thick shaft, the veins standing out like mountain ridges on a fleshy topographical map.
Anja's breath became caught in her throat as she watched Bane stroke his rigid length before he raised his hand and licked a slow path along his palm, tasting the subtle touch of burnt sugar and baked peaches, making a deep groan rip through his massive chest as he yanked her closer, angling her just a bit in order to drive his cock fully inside her.
In one fluid moment, he was deeply seated inside her, their intimate flesh wetly kissing as it took too long for his lips to find hers.
Ever since he'd been able to switch to a modified analgesic serum delivery system and breathing apparatus that left his mouth mostly free, he was never satiated with feeling her lips under his, it was intoxicating tasting everything from her breath to the intimate.
"Every part of you is perfect," he whispered raggedly in between the seconds that he lifted his lips from hers.
Neither found a reason to keep speaking words that made sense, to take energy and attention away from sharing their breaths and bodies.
Bane kept his lips pressed tight to Anja's as he brought her to orgasm, moment before he allowed his own.
He drank deeply of the sweetness on her lips and tongue that touched his.
Anja was at once a chalice that Bane would not permit anyone else's lips to touch.
In the present day, being jostled around in the wooden cart of dry goods, Anja continued to be rocked side to side, nestled between a sack of flour and another of equal size of sugar.
Jericho stole another few exhales of another man's wife before settling back against a burlap sack filled with dried beans.
He didn't sleep on the return trip to his home which would now be Anja's.
He longed for sleep but wouldn't take his open eyes away from Anja, he would sleep when he was in his dim bedroom, the furniture and possessions were sparse, he hadn't needed it for anything more than sleep in a number of years, not since Talia had eviscerated his life, heart, and soul.
Jericho was looking forward to sleeping in his bed, he was more anticipatory of bringing Anja to his bedroom after she'd become his wife.