Spirits Shared

Thunderbird Chosen

Jory Strong

Copyright 2015 by Valerie Christenson

Smashwords Edition

A huge shout-out and thank you to Jennifer Kiziah for
her help!

Cover design by Syneca Featherstone

* * * * *

Chapter
1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Thank You!

About the Author

* * * * *

Chapter
1

Can I really accept this?
Can I
really share Clay with another man? Do I want to?

For the thousandth time since
The
Revelation
, the diamond in Jessica's engagement ring made a
trip around her finger. She couldn't seem to stop doing that,
twisting it around and around, circling back to those same three
questions. And every time she did, the ache in her heart burned its
way to her eyes.

Outside the tiny diner with its
black-and-white tile floor and jukebox, a flash of lightning was
followed by a crack of thunder. Dried leaves whipped down the
street and old-fashioned wooden signs jerked against the chains
holding them in place.

Hohoq. Population…three? And that was
assuming someone was manning the general store across the street
where Clay was. Her throat tightened and she pressed her lips
together to keep them from trembling.

Usually she'd be with him, especially in a
place like this, one that seemed apart from the rest of the world.
They'd be holding hands as they traveled down store aisles full of
interesting knick-knacks and old things, not garish offerings like
those sold in tourist traps, but touchstones, something tangible to
carry home along with memories, something that'd be treasured
rather than relegated to the trash.

She glanced at the gray-haired Native
American couple working in the kitchen area behind a counter lined
with red-vinyl barstools. They were in their seventies or eighties
and obviously in love. They had what she'd thought she'd found with
Clay.

The burn in her throat and eyes intensified.
Until Clay, she hadn't realized how lonely she was. Before Clay,
she'd never let another man close enough to believe it when he said
I love you
, or say it back and mean it with every fiber of
her being.

It doesn't have to be over.
The ring
made another trip around her finger.

The old woman left her place behind the
counter, the light catching on the shiny red, white, yellow and
blue stones set in a multitude of thin silver bracelets. Dark eyes
held warmth and a smile offered encouragement. "Your man will be
here in a minute."

Jessica's gaze dropped to the engagement
ring.
Is he really my man? Will he be if we become a threesome
instead of a twosome?

A comforting hand squeezed her shoulder.
"Things have a way of working out if you let them."

Jessica blinked away tears and swallowed
against the burn in her throat. "Am I that obvious?"

"I've heard many a tale of troubles with the
opposite sex while serving hamburgers and chocolate shakes. Here
comes your man now. By the look of him I'd say a well-done double
cheeseburger. And you're a grilled cheese with tomatoes and you
both want fries."

Some of the ache eased. "No tomatoes on the
grilled cheese, otherwise it's perfect."

Clay entered the diner along with a gust of
wind. His eyes instantly sought and met hers and despite
The
Revelation
, her heart swelled the way it always did and took
over her chest.

With his blond hair and blue eyes, his
chiseled-to-perfection face and fit body, he could have been a
cover model. Instead he was an outdoorsman.

Before him, she'd never been adventurous in
or out of the bedroom. Because of him, she'd done things she once
wouldn't have imagined. Hang gliding, whitewater rafting, mountain
climbing—though they were baby hills compared to some of the ones
he'd scaled.

He loved the outdoors. When he wasn't
putting together group trips, mainly for companies who wanted their
executives to
bond
, he'd often be arranging trips for groups
of friends who wanted adventure instead of total relaxation when
they vacationed.

He was a man's man, and a woman's fantasy.
He was hers—or at least he had been before
The Revelation
.
And now… Now she didn't know.

He tugged off his jacket and slid onto the
seat across from her. "Did you already order?"

"Not the drinks."

The elderly woman smiled at Jessica and
cocked her head. "Diet coke for you. Bottled water for your man,
though I'd recommend drinking what the house serves. You won't find
purer water than what we've got in Hohoq."

Clay laughed and Jessica's heart turned
over. He could be intense and serious when he was on the job and
people's lives depended on it, but he was quick to laugh and to
make others laugh with him. It was one of the things about him that
she loved.

Her eyes watered and she looked away,
twisting her ring and not wanting him to see what a mess she was.
Since she'd said
yes
and he'd slipped the ring on her
finger, he'd asked every day if she'd decided on a date to get
married. Not that it would change their day-to-day lives. They
already lived together. But marriage meant something to them both,
even if so many marriages ended in divorce.

Their wedding would be a small affair, an
outdoor event with their closest friends—his outnumbering hers ten
to one—though many of his had become hers. His family would be
there. She wasn't sure if she'd invite hers, wasn't sure anymore if
she'd have to make that decision.

Maybe deep down she'd known she didn't
satisfy him completely. Maybe that's why she hadn't committed to a
date. Maybe deep down she'd sensed the truth.
He
was enough
for her, but
she
wasn't enough for him.

Pain returned in waves, sealing her throat.
She concentrated on breathing, on the simple mechanics of inhaling
and exhaling. She didn't want to lose him. But either way she
would, either completely or to another man.

How could she have been with him and not
picked up on the fact that he was attracted to other men? What if
later he decided he was mostly gay instead of bi?

His hand covered hers where it rested on the
tabletop. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to ignore the burn
in her chest and throat and eyes.

"We can call the trip off, Jess," he said,
his voice husky. "We can turn around and go back to the apartment.
We can see where we stand from there. I don't want to hurt you any
more than I already have."

She wiped the tears away. Everything inside
her said they'd be over if they went back to their everyday life
now.

I don't want this to be over.
She
didn't know if she could share him with another man. She didn't
know if she could share herself with another man, but she did know
she didn't want them to be over.

Covering his hand with hers, she met blue
eyes that held pain and love and the same desire to stay together.
"Let's keep going, okay?"

"Okay."

Their food arrived and she pulled her hand
away from his, ducked her head and concentrated on eating.

The ache in Clay's heart grew with every
minute of silence. She'd have loved the general store. Any other
day and the two of them would have gone there together, then come
here, stopping to pump a couple of quarters into the jukebox before
grabbing their seats.

She'd be pointing out interesting things,
walking one of the carved animals—no way she'd have left the
general store without buying one of them—across the table and up
his arm. They'd be talking, not that they couldn't do silence. They
could. They did. But not this kind of silence.

His guts had become churning water in a
rock-filled stretch of icy river. He didn't have a clue what he was
going to do if she couldn't handle this. He didn't know how he
could let her go when she was his world.

He hadn't been with anyone else since he'd
entered a bookstore and fallen in love—or at least deeply in
lust—with the soft-spoken blonde who was reading to a group of kids
in the children's section.

She was the woman he wanted to marry, to
have kids with, to grow old with. He'd known it that day and that
sureness about being with her hadn't changed.

Hearing her say
I do
and getting a
wedding band on her finger was his first goal in the morning and
his last goal at night.

Plenty of his friends had told him that he
was whacked for wanting the vows and the Mr. and Mrs. but not one
of them didn't get why he wanted Jess. She was beautiful.
Centerfold beautiful. Cock-grabbing beautiful. Beautiful enough
that as a kid her mother had forced her into competing in pageants.
Beautiful enough that if pageants were her thing, Jess'd be
winning. But it wasn't her beauty that had him hooked.

She could take care of herself but he'd
discovered that he
wanted
to take care of her. She could be
tough when she needed to be, but she wasn't afraid to be utterly,
submissively feminine.

Fuck. Maybe they could fix this in bed.
Maybe he should find out if there was a hotel in this
seven-building town and take Jess there. He could reassure her with
his body that he loved and desired her. Hell, not only loved and
desired, but desperately needed her in his life.

He rubbed his chest but the tightness didn't
ease.
Need
was too tame a word when it came to Jessica. He
craved her like an addict looking for the next fix.

He could be whitewater rafting on rough
water and he'd get hard thinking about the way she yielded and went
submissive. More than once he'd been rock climbing and gotten a
boner he could have used as a chisel from thinking about how she
accepted the rougher aspects of his sexuality—not that he'd ever,
ever hurt her.

Yeah right, asshole. Look at her and tell
yourself she's a happy camper.

He stabbed a fry into a pool of catsup.
Inhaled, exhaled, tried to loosen the tightness in his chest and
rid himself of the fear that had been threatening to suffocate him
since
coming out
while he was driving.

Christ! Could he have done something more
stupid?

He glanced up from his plate to find her
looking out the window. Jesus, he couldn't stand to see her like
this. It was killing him one agonizing minute at a time.

He rubbed his palm over her engagement ring.
At least she hadn't hurled it back at him. She hadn't screamed or
cursed or called him names. Not that he would have blamed her,
though if she had he probably would have wrecked the car.

The tightness in his chest became a blockage
in his throat, preventing him from breathing. What if she was
thinking that this was it? That they'd have one last week of hot,
no-holds-barred sex and then say goodbye when they got home?

He couldn't let that happen. Somehow he had
to make this right.

He'd have proposed on the first date, that's
how sure he was that she was the right
woman
for him. But
she was more cautious, a little less quick to grab for the brass
ring than he was, so he'd taken the time she needed.

Hell, he needed to be honest with himself.
He'd been testing himself with the wait even if a rogue, selfish
part of him wished they'd already been married before he'd had his
come to Jesus moment of illumination.

But when he'd finally popped the question
he'd been convinced that he was mainly hetero. Yeah, he noticed
guys and sometimes he fantasized, but mostly he wanted Jess.

The last group trip he'd led ripped that
false sense of security away like it was toilet paper. He'd been
tempted, tempted to the point where only his ironclad rule to never
get involved with paying clients had kept him from doing something
stupid.

His heart thundered like it was caught in an
avalanche and a chill swept over him. He'd come so close to
trashing a future with Jess. If he betrayed her with either a man
or a woman, she would never forgive him. He'd be out of her life
permanently.

It'd been a wake-up call, not only for the
present but for the future. Imagining what might happen down the
road made him break out in a cold sweat during the day and thrash
with nightmares when he slept.