She hit the intersection and needed to make a choice. She nearly went straight through, but then realized that it was getting dark, and none of the streetlights worked out that way. She veered left, almost decided on going across the bridge, but realized that going to her loft would be depressing, and she didn’t want to talk to Tooloo, not now, she’d probably strangle the crazy half-elf. She continued looping to the left. Nathan had a good idea; she should go talk to Oilcan. But that seemed silly, since the shortest way to Oilcan’s was the way she came. Of the four ways out of the intersection, however, only going to Lain’s house remained, and she didn’t want to go there either.
She kept walking, now distinctly making a full circle in the center of the road. The Rolls Royces halted at the intersection, silver ghosts in the twilight. Pony ground to a halt behind her, watching her with a faintly worried look.
“Tinker, are you all right?” Nathan asked.
“Do I look all right? Seriously! I don’t think so. Something has definitely come loose. But can they find out what’s wrong? Nope. Can’t do that.”
“Tink.” Nathan caught her by the wrist. “If you’re not feeling right, walking around in the night isn’t going to solve anything. Let me take you to Lain.”
“No!” She tried to tug her hand free. “I don’t want to see her. She lied to me!”
Nathan ignored her attempts to get loose, pulling her toward his police cruiser. “Then let me take you to your cousin.”
“Pony!” Tinker cried, turning to the sekasha.
She saw the blur of the ejae’s blade and was only registering its meaning when Nathan’s life blood sprayed across her face. His hand tightened a moment on her wrist, and then his fingers went limp. She stared numbly as his hand slipped off her and his body crumbled to the ground with a heavy thud.
With the strength of a black hole, Nathan’s body dragged her gaze down to it. He lay on his side, his wide shoulders canted back so she could see the thick column of his neck. The skin up to the sword cut was unblemished white, and then his neck stopped abruptly in a meaty collar of muscle, bone, and gaping pipes. Blood still fountained rhythmically from a severed vein.
She opened her mouth but couldn’t form any words. She dropped to her knees beside Nathan and touched him — felt the warmth and solidness of his body. His heart still pounded, wild and frantic, pumping out his blood with lessening force until it shuddered to a stop.
What just happened? Nathan can’t be dead — he was just talking to me.
She looked up to Pony and saw he had drawn his sword. Blood dripped from his blade. She whimpered, realizing she had cried out to Pony and he’d reacted as he’d been trained. She had gotten Nathan killed.
An oddly shaped object on the ground behind Pony caught her eye, and she gazed at it for a minute, puzzled, until she realized it was the back of Nathan’s severed head.
She had killed Nathan.
A sound struggled up out of her chest. She pushed a hand against her mouth to keep it in and felt a sticky wetness on her face. She jerked her hand away from her face, stared at the blood covering her hand, and a loud, wordless keen forced its way out of her. Once free, it would not stop. She knelt there, wailing, as her stained hands fluttered about her as if they were trying to escape the sudden brutal reality.
“Domi.” Pony crouched beside her, gathering her into his arms. “Tinker domi.”
She rocked in his arms, keening, holding out her stained hands so he could see the blood on them. Anguish, dark and wild as flood waters, poured into her.
Pony picked her up. Tears blinded her and she slipped into the black swirling hurting, losing sense of everything but the guilt and grief. Fear was creeping in now, as she couldn’t stop herself, as if she’d been pushed out of her own body by the raw distress. Only Pony’s warm, strong presence kept her from falling into complete panic. Slowly she became aware that he had carried her back to the Rolls, and they had driven back to the enclave. Voices of Lemonseed and others of the household came out of the darkness that she seemed to be trapped in.
When Pony sat her down and let her go, Tinker cried out and reached blindly for him.
“I am here, domi.” He pressed close to her as he tenderly washed the blood from her face. “I will not leave you. Nothing could take me from you.”
They were in the bathroom of her suite at Poppymeadow’s. He’d stripped off his sharp-edged wyvern armor. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging to him.
“Domi. Domi.” Pony crooned. “Domi, please, stop crying.”
She tried to push out words, but they came out strangled cries.
“Domi, please.” Pony carried her into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. “If I’m to understand you, you have to speak Elvish.”
“I am!” She wailed, and choked out the words, “I–I wa-wa-want Windwolf” as if they were huge boulders. She needed him there, now, holding her, comforting her, making love to her, to drive away the pain.
“Domi, Stormsong is looking for him.” Pony wiped the tears from her face. “We do not know if he will be able to come.” The thought of being alone threatened to submerge her into anguish. “Oh, domi, please don’t cry.”
She buried her face into Pony’s hair and breathed in his spicy musk scent, warmed by his body. She felt the play of his muscles under his fine cotton undershirt. Desire, suddenly monstrous in strength, surged through her. This time she didn’t even try to resist, terrified of falling back into the dark gnawing pain. She abandoned herself to her need and kissed Pony.
He shifted his head up, giving her full access to his mouth. He tasted of cinnamon. She fumbled with his clothes, wanting to feel him, to anchor herself. The undershirt tore under her desperation, parting to reveal the chiseled lines of his body. He pulled the tattered cloth out of the way, giving her access to his warm skin and hard muscle.
While in the oni cell, she’d been so good, keeping her eyes and hands on a tight leash. Now, she nuzzled down his body to every point she’d resisted, sought out the parts of him that she had only caught glimpses of. He moaned as she freed him from his clothes and savored all his velvet hardness with her mouth.
He reached for her, pulled her up to his mouth, kissed her deeply. He rolled them so she was under him. His body eclipsed the rest of the world, blotting out everything else, so that all she could think of was him. His broad shoulders moving downwards. His strong calloused hands sliding up her dress. His soft hair falling free of his braid to pour over her stomach like silk. His mouth on her, coaxing her into pleasure.
She came gripped him tightly as her climax roared through her. It burned away the overpowering grief and pain that had been threatening to swamp her. Letting go of Pony, she slumped back into the sheets, feeling empty and fragile as a broken eggshell.
Worry filled Pony’s dark eyes as he moved up to lean over her. His erection pressed against her, seeking her entrance. There was a quiet little voice, though, in the back of her head, saying it was time to stop this, that she’d already taken it too far.
“Pony,” she whispered.
He froze. “Domi?”
She swallowed and stroked his check with a trembling hand. “I don’t think,” she whispered, “it would be wise to go farther.”
“I never thought this was wise.” He slid sideways so he was no longer pressed against her opening.
She laughed but her laughter broke in the middle and became a sob. “Oh, Pony, he loved me and I killed him.”