this new knowledge, to touch her again. To see if…
He clenched a fist. It was too soon. He needed time to assimilate the enormity of this new discovery. And when, or if, he decided to test their attachment, it would be done under the most suitable conditions. Not in a 'stuffy dungeon' in front of witnesses.
It would be arranged in great detail. And first, she must be prepared.
For now, the game would go on. The stakes had been raised, but that was a challenge he could meet. Despite his shock at the revelation, Pietre retained his sense of destiny. Where such matters were concerned, one could direct but not control.
There was the matter of her safety, though. And in that he felt confident of his powers.
Selecting a button on the control panel, he leant forward slightly, his voice trembling with the effort to retain some normality. 'Report, Xavion.'
The faint beep of a response signal came almost immediately, but Pietre was forced to still his impatience as he waited for Xavion to move out of audible range.
It had been his own instruction that they hid the evidence of their voice communication. He cursed the subterfuge now.
Seconds ticked over with all the speed of rose petals unfurling. Pietre began imagining Xavion tortured beyond his ability to remain silent — beyond his ability to endure. Where was he?
Receiving.
'Where were you?'
There was a pause. With the Wendee.
'Doing what?' Pietre was astounded at the sudden leap of tension in his body.
She woke earlier. A nightmare. I was watching over her.
Pietre struggled to regain his control. 'Good. Did she say anything?' He ached to activate the screen, to see her, but something stayed his hand. Common sense? He needed perspective. Time.
She called a name, Xavion replied, his voice flattened of all tone as it came through the speakers.
'Christophe?' Pietre suddenly knew he wouldn't give the boy to her again. It might… confuse her.
Billy.
'Who is this Billy?'
She didn't say, but she spoke of blood. On her hands.
Pietre turned away from the controls, this new disclosure coming almost as a physical blow.
Had she killed someone?
He should have commissioned a detailed report on her as they normally did with their players. But he'd chosen not to, preferring to retain her mystery. At what cost? If she were damaged… The mind was a delicate instrument, and who knew better than he the horrors that could be inflicted on the unprotected psyche.
He must investigate her background, discover her pedigree. If she were -
Pietre pulled himself up short. He must make no decisions, take no action, while his mind was in such turmoil.
Closing his eyes, he forced his awareness through the eye of the needle until it reached the place of ultimate peace, the place where no evil could touch. Not even his own. He became soothed, becalmed. And the answers came.
He would accompany Belle to Auckland and watch her perform. In that way he could regain some sense of himself. Under Xavion's protection, the Wendee would be safe.
Then, in the morning when he returned, he could observe her integration with the Mermaids — to enjoy her as he had previously. There was no rush. Perspective was what he needed.
He turned back to the control panel. 'Xavion.'
Receiving.
'Keep watch over the Wendee. If she wakes again, comfort her in any way she requires.' The tension in his chest was less this time and he felt relief at that. 'Belle and I will be off-island for the evening. Mr Black will accompany us. I'll expect your report when we return.'
Understood.
'Further to that, Belle will come for the Wendee tomorrow before noon, to escort her to the Mermaids. You will facilitate that transfer as Belle directs.'
There was no reply.
'Xavion?'
Yes. He sounded faint. Understood.
Pietre cut the transmission and leant back in his chair, reassured by his course of action. There was nothing else to be done at this stage. The destiny that had brought her to him would take its own course. He need simply wait and be sensible.
And beware of Belle.
Chapter Nineteen
Dee lay on the board-walk, one hand trailing in the lagoon, the other resting over her eyes. The early-morning sun, still tender in its caress, warmed her body. A body, which, in the past two weeks had taken on a honey glow and become entirely comfortable with its enforced nudity.
Her heart, like her body, was also 'light' — mostly unburdened by thoughts of past or future. She was living solely in the present and accepting each moment as a present — a precious gift from her unseen benefactor, Peter.
She thought about her Lost Boys sometimes. Missed them a little. But inside the spacious pavilion a couple of metres from where she lay, slept someone who had helped her to forget. Someone who had playfully wrested her inhibitions from her and shown her a facet of herself she had not known existed.
'Grrr.' The growl came from beside her. A moment later a mouth as warm as the sun descended on her nipple, sucking, chewing, tugging gently.
'Skye, you're awake.'
'And hungry.'
'It's too early. We haven't had breakfast,' Dee complained, but the first stirrings of excitement were already tightening her stomach.
'You are breakfast,' the voice growled and the body pounced. Dee kept her eyes closed, laughing at first, then quieting as the mouth feasted on her breasts. The legs that slid over hers were smooth and long and the breasts that pressed against her belly were very full. She could no longer think of the Lost Boys.
'I love your breasts,' Skye murmured, rubbing her hair against them, 'They're so perfect. So… proportionate.'
Dee smiled, her eyes still closed. 'How kind. Proportionate.'
'I mean it.' Dee could imagine Skye's pout. 'Their perfect.'
'For an athlete. Your breasts are much more the ideal,' she assured Skye.
'Ideal for who? A man who likes big tits?' the girl scorned. 'I don't care what men want. I wish mine were smaller. Like yours.' She cupped Dee's breasts with her strong, gentle fingers and breathed against the moistened nipples one at a time. The heated air was like light fingers crawling over the tightening skin and Dee had to concentrate to distract her.
'Isn't Belle coming this morning to check on her mermaids? I really think we should have some breakfast before — ' But her young companion was feasting again.
'I am.' The hungry mouth moved off her breasts and slid down to her side, lick-kissing its way to the curve of her waist.
Dee felt herself slip past the point of caring about anything other than the coming pleasure. Skye was truly voracious and would spend all day on Dee's body if she was allowed. It was a terrible temptation for Dee, and in her first week there, she'd given in to the girl's appetite completely.
Those seven days were a dizzy memory, like the blur of first-love where you're always in each others arms.
