Among The Cloud Dwellers (Entrainment Series) (40 page)

I
woke up to stark silence. I sat up, pulling the sleeping bag up my bare breasts trying to remember where I was.

“Gabe?”

Silence answered.

With irrational, unexplainable, rising panic drumming out of control, I realized I was alone in the middle of Nowhere, Oz. I tightened the grip on the silky fabric of the sleeping bag until my knuckles turned white with effort. Struggling not to give in to fear, I brushed aside the thought of wondering where such intense panic could be coming from and chose to be my practical self instead. A poor choice to make as the ensuing events would later reveal, but no matter how powerful the warnings, I still hadn’t gotten used to trusting my intuition. Only when we truly stare at our enemies in the eyes do we learn what we’re capable of, or not.

I scanned the tent in search of a note he might have left me. And found nothing. With practicality failing miserably against the overpowering surge of intuition, I succumbed to it. Despite my fears, I closed my eyes. I inhaled deeply against my clenched hands stretching the tight grip I had of the sleeping bag and then exhaled, relaxing my shoulders, opening my eyes. The tent looked somewhat brighter, but I knew this to be just an optical illusion. Something told me I was alone and he was nowhere nearby. Not spiritually, at least. Tess felt intangible as well. The call for magic was the only present vibe along with my frightened breathing. But one annihilated the other. In the darkness, at the bottom of my cozy sleeping bag, my bare toes curled. Yes, bare—just like Venere in the Uffizi. I was about to step off my shell to face the Wizard of Oz wearing no ruby slippers.

I slit my head through the thin fabric split of the tent and scanned my surroundings. Outside nothing had changed.

The fire had died to a meager scattering of ashes. The Rover stood dormant, parked about ten yards from me at the end of a double trail of tire marks. Now, that was a thought. I dropped my eyes and scrutinized the campground dirt for foot and dog prints, only to find neither. It was as if Gabe had taken flight.

The wind stirred and brought words.
He can’t take flight. Not with his broken wings.

Chilled to the bone, I realized that
It
had heard my thoughts.

I stood, stark naked, paralyzed with what I believed to be my fears. I swallowed and tasted focus instead.

It is when we are most afraid that we are most alive, with all our wits stretched to their limits and beyond, clawing for survival. With inadequate blindness fighting the dark unknown, we resort to the other senses—including the sixth—the portal to magic.

I was sure I had not imagined the vibe. It felt familiar and recurrent, like a persistent nightmare.

Or a watchful, silent guardian: A warrawarra who held the power of Gabe’s breath.

I recalled it in the yellow-eyed snake biting his own tail surrounding the naked woman in the tarot card of
Le Monde
and in Eingana, the goddess. I recognized its powerful barrier, in a flutter of wings, when I tried to scrutinize Gabe’s privacy. It had spilled from Gabe’s mouth speaking of having defied death in a thick, almost unrecognizable, Aboriginal accent. It awoke us from a distant nightmare shared in the privacy of my own bedroom, and finally, had stared at us through the disturbing eyes of a cat, coiled in a flowerbed in New Orleans.

Yes, I faced an unequal opponent.

But why opponent?

I had only one way to find out.

This time I would not barricade my will behind fear. And so I rose to the challenge and met it. Consciously aware that a pinch of ignorance in the face of my inadequacies might turn out to be a crucial advantage, I summoned the power and rose from the quicksand. As Evalena had explained, in the gap between heartbeats I stepped out of the tent with only my hair as witness. My feet met the warm, packed desert dirt as I caught the tail end of my incoming breath and cast my question.

“Who are you?”

“I’m the wind and the messenger.”

I exhaledand stretched the space with silent words once again. “Where is Gabe?”

“On the outer land’s edge. In the timeless. You must let go of him.”

“Why?”

“Your journey.”

I inhaled. With my left hand I caught hold of a web of fears, rolled it around my fist, and finally cast it aside. With my right hand stretched outward in front of my heart, I shielded and spoke. “No.”

“He is not the answer.”

Something pulled and I took an involuntary step forward into the timeless. My face pushed through and caught the midst of a spinning tornado. I could see nothing, but I held my ground. Despite the spiraling force, I braced myself and focused. With all my strength, through my connection with Joséphine, I called upon my magic lineage. My chest swelled, filled, and when I felt about to burst, I pushed at the whirling wind, willing it to stop.

It barely slowed down.

I searched for a gap, a portal, for a moment when I could leap. The warrawarra’s power seemed unfazed by my attempt and soon regained speed. It was going to pull me in and all of a sudden I wanted out.

“No!” I screamed.

I drew back as a dog barked.

I spun around and saw Tess at my side. Gabe followed at a distance of at least sixty feet away from me still. Tess’s barking had covered my scream and dissolved the mystical sinew, but it was too late.

Gabe had crossed over. From the distance separating us I observed him as he approached me and Tess, already at my feet. His step held the determination and will of someone ready to leap once again. His energy hummed with years of suppressed drive now finally released.

And I as well had taken my own step.

I reached down to Tess and scratched her floppy ears. “I owe you one, Tess.”

Life’s warning of bends in the road can be as inexplicable and sudden as a wind in the desert.

And then time resumed its rhetorical course.

The day to return home approached.

The star-filled night glittered and dimmed against the city lights fanning off the horizon.

Gabe fell silent on the drive home, his eyes focused on the desert road ahead.

On the back seat, tucked snugly on my folded sleeping bag, Tess’s ears twitched, and her tail flicked in her sleep, probably dreaming of chasing desert creatures.

I stared out the Rover’s window at darkness moving like a black screen on fast-forward. My own image, reflected off the spinning blackness, stared back and didn’t recognize me. I felt different from the Porzia of few days back. I tuned the outside off to focus within. The desert had changed me. I felt a deeper connection and respect for Mother Nature, Her eternal strength and survival powers. I discovered I didn’t need comforts to appreciate what life offered. And most of all, I had faced a wizard with my own magic. I had embraced my powers, extinguished my fears, and as a prize, I survived. But at what price?

Prize and price: only one letter distinguishes the two.

I turned to study Gabe’s sharp profile. Long strands of hair grazed his forehead, brushing against his darker brows. Like gems framed by thick eyelashes, his eyes glimmered dark blue, focused on his driving. His straight nose reminded me of the Greek gods of Benedetta’s myths. His defined lips curled relaxed, and the dark stubble he had let grow in the desert left the dimple on his chin barely visible.

“You cold?” he asked, interrupting my observations.

“No. I’m fine.”

He took his eyes off the road and looked at me. “Tired?”

“Not really. Hungry.”

His sensuous lips broke into a grin, and his eyes shifted back to the road. “After a week of campfire food I reckon Miss Gourmet is ready for real food?”

“
Miss Gourmet
?” My right eyebrow arched in mock disdain.

“Just teasing, luv.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m afraid you might have to wait until tomorrow for a real meal. We have another couple of hours before we get home, and by then the shops will be closed for the night.”

“How about restaurants?” I teased.

“I need a shower and a slow ease back into civilization. Can’t do mobs of people tonight. Please forgive me.”

“Good point.” “We can see what we have at home and maybe throw something together.”

I nodded. “As long as there is wine, I’m fine.”

“Got heaps of that. If I remember roight, there might be a couple of Umeracha’s bottles left.”

“No, you don’t,” I said, incredulous.

The headlights of an oncoming car lit his crooked grin. “Oh yes, I do.”

“Great!” I replied, getting excited. “Now we really don’t need civilization.”

“When you have me?” he teased.

“And the wine you provide,” I shot back. Then I looked at him for a second and asked, “How long is it going to take us to adjust to people again?”

“It depends. After a week in the desert, I’d say a couple of days at home and you should be fine. Since this was your first time, the impact might be more intense and you might end up needing more than a couple.” He looked at me. “Just take it easy and don’t force anything, luv.”

“How about you?”

“No worries. I’ll be fine in two days tops.” His face got serious. “I remember times when it would take me weeks.”

“Weeks?”

“When I trained I would often be gone a month or longer at a time. Got really focused and absorbed with the outback. Runners talk about that plateau they reach where heartbeat, breath, and stride merge into one and endorphins kick in. The run becomes effortless and one could keep on going to the edge of the earth. The same happened when I drove out there, Porzia. It’s a bitch to unwind from it. When we competed, Gomi used to go into retreat for weeks to snap back. I personally miss it. Even the pain of coming down from it. He doesn’t,” Gabe added. “Gomi’s happiest under the hood of a rig down at the shop.”

Adelaide’s lights sparkled in the far distance as I listened to him speak of his driving days and tried to understand. Occasionally I would ask him a question and noticed that even if the answer would somewhat upset me, he never faltered. His honesty was brutal.

I wondered if I had the strength to truly defy the gods.

“Gabe, I know I don’t have the ability to fully grasp the depth of your experience, all that you’ve done in your life before I became part of it.” I took a deep breath. “I will not pretend to know something I have not experienced. Hell, before that night at Umeracha, I had no idea who you were and honestly had no knowledge whatsoever of the racing world. I still don’t know much about it. But what I do know is that some people live a life fueled by passions. One of mine is for food and wine and the compelling urge to write about it, to share my knowledge and discoveries with people out there, to educate them to appreciate the pleasures and passion of gourmet food and wine.

“Yours is to race. Even after what happened to you, you’ve kept that passion alive.” I struggled to find the rights words to continue on. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that our passions have found a way of merging and getting to know one another. I respect yours and love the man you are deeply. I’m also grateful you’ve made me part of your life and showed me how Earth and Nature are so incredibly beautiful and unselfishly giving. I had never been camping before. I’ve never seen a desert night sky. The moonlight is so much more intense away from artificial light. I’ve never felt the smoky scent of a campfire tickle my nostrils as food roasts and never felt my body glow in the heat of the bright flames. It was just as you said it would be. I glimpsed the origin of time, life, and the beginning of this ancient land, thanks to you.” I sighed and found the courage to continue. “But it was a lot more than physical. Out there my fears were transformed into another passion that has been dormant within me. Now I can move on, into this new realm, confidently and somewhat eagerly. Only I don’t know how to express my gratitude.” Frustrated, I dropped my fluttering hands in my lap.

His hand caressed my cheek, and I gave in to his loving fingers. “You just did, luv.”

I
t didn’t take long to unload the car, and the most pressing thing to deal with then was finding a hot shower. We washed the days of desert camping away but instead of lingering in the rejuvenating water, our stomachs reminded us it had been way too long since our last meal. I cut my shower short and got into some comfy clothes before heading into the kitchen to try to figure out something for dinner.

With my head stuck in the fridge, I eyed the miserable selection in front of me: a couple of shallots, parsley which needed to be used soon, tomatoes at their ripest. Gabe promised to set the table if I could come up with a miracle and left to unpack our bags.

I moved to the pantry and found penne pasta and vodka. An idea stirred in my head, and I smiled, thinking of my father’s favorite recipe—
Penne alla Vodka
, a perfect ending to our adventure.

Soon the kitchen was filled with mouthwatering aromas.

“Smells great, luv.” Gabe walked in and began to set the table, then opened a bottle of Umeracha Shiraz and poured us each a glass. We toasted to a great desert adventure and the warm feeling of being back home. I took a sip and allowed the thick wine to coat my palate. It brought back memories of my last visit to Australia. I looked at Gabe over the rim of my glass. “I will always associate this wine with meeting you.”

“I think we should skip eating.”

“Not tonight. I’m hungry.”

He reached for my hand, slowly pried my fingers from my glass, and brought them up to his mouth. His sensuous lips opened and closed around my fingertips, and his teeth nibbled, shooting scalding flames of lust through my inner core. I took his face in my hands and brought his mouth a breath from my lips. I looked straight into his clouding eyes and lowered my mouth to brush his, barely giving him a taste.

“Gabe.
Amore mio
—you’re gonna have to wait because I’m hungry, and I would like to eat.” I rotated my hips against the hardness of his body that instantly responded to my teasing. I pulled away and sat in my chair. As if nothing had happened, I took a forkful of penne in my mouth and invited him to sit as well. He was staring back at me through thick eyelashes, his mouth parted, his eyes still clouded by desire.

“Eat up. It’s delicious,” I told him, chewing my first bite.

He sat, took a forkful of the penne, and brought it up to his lips. “Not as good as what I had in mind.”

“Try it and then tell me.” I knew he would love my sauce.

In no time, he had dusted his plate up and gotten up for seconds. I laughed and poured us more Shiraz. He returned to the table with a second plateful and asked me if I wanted more.

“No, thank you.” I leaned back and sipped the wine. “Don’t forget to mop up all that good sauce.”

He did and then offered me the first bite. I brushed his fingertips as I bit into the soaked bread and looked at him, silently promising dessert.

The mantle clock struck midnight.

“Come.” He offered me a hand.

Not worrying about cleaning up, we walked back into the bedroom where our hands spoke eagerly, silently.

*

We must not have moved at all during the night because the pale morning light found us deeply asleep in the same position. I stretched the full length of my body against his. Gabe’s solid arm wrapped around my waist, holding me tight. His heartbeat drummed softly against my curved back while his breath teased loose strands of my hair.

It tickled me.

I giggled.

He stirred, tightening the grip of his arm around me.

“Gabe, you’re tickling me.”

“Can’t be,” he mumbled. “I’m not even hard yet.”

I giggled again. “That’s not what I meant.” I smoothed my hips against him, checking . . . or perhaps I’m just a chronic tease.

“But it’s not a bad idea,” I offered when I felt him respond.

“I can’t believe you called it tickling.”

Fully awake and aroused, he pinned me, face down, with the weight of his body.

“It was your breath,” I said with my voice muffled by the pillow. I turned and gasped for air as he parted my legs and wound my hair around his hand.

“My breath?” he whispered, gently biting into the curve of my shoulder.

“Never mind—just stop teasing.” The feral urge to have him inside me was unbearable.

“What do you want, luv?” he asked, sinking his teeth into the softness of my earlobe. A pang of pain ricocheted through my spine, echoing in ripples of desire, and I grasped for the sheets as my back arched in silent begging.

“You.” I ached.

“Say it.” He lifted his fingers to brush my mouth. I took his thumb into my parted lips and ran the hot tip of my tongue along it. I felt him inch closer against the tender flesh between my legs.

Not close enough.

I moaned and bit his thumb. “I want you inside me.” I flexed my left arm behind me to guide him.

He let go of my hair to take hold of my wrist and lifted it away, back above my head. His right thumb was still inside my mouth, but the hardness pressing between my buttocks remained a yearning.

“I can’t wait. Please, Gabe,” I moaned, stripped of inhibitions.

“But I like this.” His rich voice dripped in my ear. He kept from penetrating but slid down deeper and found the swollen heart of my desire. I felt the pulsing of his hardness rub against it and met it with my hips thrusting backwards. My mouth found the rest of his fingers and sucked, one at a time. “That’s what I was looking for.” Its head stroked me intimately.

I smiled against the pillow and lifted my hips in one swift move. He slid smoothly deep inside me. And I contracted my inner muscles and trapped him.

He gasped as the tight grip sucked, pulsed, and brought him to finish suddenly.

“That’s what
I
was looking for,” I whispered when, seconds later, he crashed against my back.

“You’re wicked.”

“And more.” I smiled.

Tess’s head peeked through the door and looked at us.

“I think she’s checking to see if we’re done and if it’s safe to join us.”

Gabe lifted his head. “Looks like it.” He patted the blankets to encourage her.

In two huge jumps she hopped up on the bed, wiggling her tail like a busy feather duster, and settled right between us. She took a look at me and smiled, turned her head to look at Gabe, and gave him a huge lick on the chin.

“G’day to you too, Tess,” he said, pushing her face away.

“How about I leave you two to enjoy your morning effusions and I jump in the shower?” I moved out of their reach.

“How about we join you?”

“How about coffee?” I yelled, closing the bathroom door behind me.

I took a long, warm shower and spent extra time caring for myself. I used extra conditioner on my hair and combed it through, detangling it before rinsing in the relaxing warm water. Once out, I wrapped my head in a dry towel and took advantage of the lingering steam to carefully apply, with a soothing massage, amber infused lotion all over my body.

I opened the bathroom door in a cloud of amber scented steam and met the beckoning scent of coffee.

In the kitchen, Gabe was loading the dishwasher, wearing only a pair of flannel lounge pants and the phone trapped between chin and shoulder.

“I’ll be there. Just don’t bloody fuck with it, mate, ’til I get there.” Anger burst in sparks flaring from the sharp metal blade of his voice.

I froze in the doorframe.

He spun around and saw me. Our eyes met for an instant, but he quickly shut me out and focused away.

Maledizione!

He backed against the kitchen counter and braced himself, turning his knuckles white with effort.

I pushed off the doorframe, steered away from him, and poured a cup of coffee. Gabe silently pointed to a steaming mug on the dining table all set for breakfast, and I attempted a contrite smile. “Do you need privacy?”

He shook his head and abruptly ended the phone conversation. “Gomi, just be on it, but don’t bloody talk to them. Whatever you do, mate, don’t let them in. I’m on my way.” He set the phone down on the counter behind him, folded his arms across his bare chest, and dropped his chin. I took a sip of scorching coffee and waited.

For what seemed an eternal lapse of time.

Suddenly, Gabe turned the dishwasher on and walked out of the kitchen, mumbling something about a shower.

Ma che caz . . . ?

The soft whoosh-whoosh of the dishwasher filled the silence. The coffee mug radiated heat into my hand, but my bare feet were getting cold on the floor, so I brought them up on the chair and tried to stretch Gabe’s robe, which I had borrowed, over my toes. The crimson toe polish had chipped and looked in dire need of being wiped off and reapplied. I lifted my head and caught Tess watching me from the pantry door. Her head tilted to one side, she walked up to me. I scratched her ears and asked her if she knew what was going on. Instead of answering, she walked away down the hall toward the bedroom and the muffled sound of running water.

*

Several minutes later, they both walked back in, Gabe wearing a pair of faded jeans and a burgundy polo shirt. He had showered and shaved his desert stubble but had left a sexy goatee to shadow his sensuous mouth. He took the coffee mug he had abandoned on the counter, nuked it for a few seconds, topped it with fresh coffee, and finally walked up to the table and sat next to me. Still wet from the shower, his hair hung in soft spikes down his forehead. He took a sip of coffee, pushed the chair back, rested his elbows on his knees, and leaned closer to me, holding the coffee mug with both hands. I followed his golden head as it bent and remembered the chipped polish. I made sure my toes were safely tucked away.

Gabe lifted his clear blue eyes at me. And the burdened sky, tired of holding its load, finally exhaled.

“Drivers are being summoned.”

I frowned.

The dishwasher paused, switching cycles, and in the silence, in that momentary gap of noise, I understood.

With trembling hands I set the now-tepid coffee mug down. “And . . . ?”

He looked at me for an eternity before shaking his head. “Gomi said there’s an envelope at the shop.”

“You need to go down—”

“The place is surrounded by reporters.”

“When did it happen?”

“While we were in the desert.” His eyes never left mine. He blew at the rim of his cup to cool the steaming black coffee. “Gomi’s been trying to reach us for the past few days, but you’ve got my mobile.” He had the spirit to wink at me and took a sip of coffee.

I had completely forgotten about the damn phone. Heck, I didn’t even take that bag to Nowhere.

“I see.”

I did more than just see. I tasted metal at the back of my throat. His fever reached out to me, but it wasn’t all darkness. A tiny seed of excitement stirred, eager to grow, fed on by the flame of challenge. Like our love did, from seed to flower . . . following its destiny.

“Who’s at the shop?”

“Gomi, the crew, and Clark.” The shadow of a smile appeared on his lips. “Barking at the mob of reporters, I reckon.” He took a long look at me. “If we give it a burl and head down there now, it won’t be a piece of piss to give them the flick, luv. It’s London to a brick they’ll be all over us.”

I nodded. Not only would we face the media frenzy about the breaking news, but we’d expose our relationship to their devouring jaws as well. I couldn’t begin to imagine the sensation the news would raise, especially now with the Oz Endurance casting Gabe back in the midst of headline news.

Were we ready for all the attention?

I shook my head and he nodded once. We agreed.

He leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs. “Gomi’s so excited he’s splitting out of his skin. Even offered to head up this way and bring the envelope to us, but I don’t want him to lead them back to the house. Sometimes I think the kid’s got kangaroos loose in the top paddock.” Gabe tapped a finger to his right temple.

“You mean he acts like a nut?”

He nodded.

“I thought the race isn’t supposed to take place for another couple of months.”

“That’s right, Porzia, but it takes time to get things ready, and two months to prepare for something this big is nothing. Especially with all the secrecy around it. I still don’t know how many, who they are and—”

“And you’ve been preparing,” I finished for him, thinking of his almost-completely outfitted pipe dream. “You’re one of them.”

*

I left Gabe to call Gomi back. In the bedroom I dressed my body as one would dress an inanimate puppet, my amber-scented skin the only familiar comfort.

Sharing silence, we drove into town together, but he dropped me off about four blocks away from the shop and gave me Tess on a leash. The plan was for me to walk to the shop and check out the crowd of vans and cameras parked outside the main entrance. Nonchalantly walking amongst them, I would shoot for the back door, heading straight into the garage. Gabe, meanwhile, would drive straight into the midst of the madness and leave it to the reporters to get the hell out of his way, as he mildly put it.

Nice plan.

The morning sung crisp and bright in downtown Adelaide. Despite the fabulous weather, I walked in a daze, holding my breath still in the eye of blurred, out-of-control events. I dreaded the moment my so far belated, yet unavoidable, reaction would come crashing down on me. Tess pulled on the leash, forcing me to quicken my step. I tried to detangle the knot of feelings churning in my stomach, but to no avail. I barely dared inhale and exhale. In order not to stir dormant demons, I wasn’t breathing properly.

The sun peeked from behind high clouds. A hint of warmth hung in the flower-scented air, and passersby sharing the sidewalk with me seemed to feel it too. Scarves hung loosely from unbuttoned coats, smiles were exchanged, and “G’days” wished. A few people stopped to pet an ecstatic Tess basking in the extra attention. We passed a bakery, a small bank, a travel agency advertising specials to Thailand, and the lavender restaurant where I’d had lunch with Gabe on my last visit. I glanced inside to read the special of the day—meatloaf. Despite all, I smiled. I was about a block away from the shop when a rush of TV vans buzzed up the road, madly driving away from Gabe’s business. I quickened my pace and arrived at the now deserted main entrance. Gabe’s Rover pulled in right behind me.