{Reipon}
Sweat. Fatigue. The satisfying hush of spilling sand. And music. Anything other than Korac’s Verse.
The tri-forked chain dart with its gold barbs struck its intended target and decimated the sandbag. With substantial muscle strained on her corded arms, Tameka tugged on the chain, returning it to her. It went under her lifted leg and, with a turn, spun behind her back. Cut to her chin, her red curls stayed out of her sight as she obliterated another target behind her.
Hours now she’d spent out here, and Tameka finally understood Rayne’s obsession with running. If the Progeny, codenamed Fury, slowed down for even a single second, thoughts assailed her, skewing her perspective. They wanted to claim her optimism. Came here to assassinate her hope.
The constant exertion focused Tameka’s concentration better than any meditation technique Xelan taught them—
Xelan.
The source of her concerns.
When they returned home from L. Capra, Xelan and Tameka had went through the motions of their post-mission ritual. Covered in mud, Tameka stripped inside the closet and went straight to the shower. Xelan gave her space until the water steamed enough to censor her. Through the obstructed glass, she watched him pull the pins from his hair. For missions, he twisted and braided it back so it looked cut short. She bit her lip as she considered which look she preferred for him. Pretty with it long. Handsome with it short.
The women around here were more jealous of the men than each other.
As if respecting her privacy, Xelan never once glanced at Tameka, even as she observed, “I couldn’t drain their nacres because they didn’t have any. Why was that?”
He set out the leave-in treatments she liked and the oils he preferred as he explained, “Imminent sealed the mines with nacre-deterring shields. That and they wouldn’t waste a nacre on men and women sure to die while mining the volatile mineral.” The considerate Icarus replaced her used towel with a fresh one and hung her favorite fuzzy robe within reach.
But what if Tameka wanted to walk around naked? To tempt him into a look, a glance—Something! Over the last three months since Xelan’s return, they skirted around each other in this polite, comfortable but not cozy living arrangement. After depriving herself for two years while mourning him, Tameka was more than ready to revisit the ceiling with him.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
Not that an opportunity ever presented itself.
The Shadow worked non-stop to sabotage and expose Imminent. With all their mixed talents and expertise, couples went weeks or even months split in rotations opposite each other. And while “we will always remain” was more definitive than ever, morale began to chafe from the separateness.
Together. They were all together.
Well, mostly.
God damn, Tameka never thought she’d feel sorry for Kyle. But here he was, working his ass off on the brink of hospitalization with no promise of a comforting hand to hold.
Fuck Silence.
Fuck Lucas.
And fuck Smith.
Tameka ripped the chain back, tearing through six bags on the return. Her teeth set in determination, and her muscles screamed in peak performance.
Was she the asshole now? Whining to herself that she wasn’t getting any when she was fortunate to have her entire family under one roof again?
Five more bags.
By the time Tameka turned the shower off, Xelan had already left their suites for an errand not at all conveniently timed. Despite how much his swift exit deflated her, he took Pax with him for some father-son bonding and to afford her some time alone.
Pax. Her sweet son. He lit the house with his warm smile and clever adventures.
He’s a quarter Tritan.
It showed. They weren’t sure where to age him because his cognition sometimes presented more advanced than an adult, but it all manifested in childish humors. Like his understanding of Rayne’s situation.
The lack of communication from her in their dreams weighed on Tameka.
Another three bags.
Losing Oleen.
The dart banked from a post and ricocheted through two more bags—
“Mommy kicking butt!”
Tameka loosened the tension in the chain and almost cried out from the agony in her arms at the sudden relief. It impacted all of her senses in a mini-blackout. Pax had already clung to her leg by the time it abated.
“I’ve seen no one so graceful with that weapon until now. Especially not with your force. Fury.” From behind, Xelan breathed against her ear. He squeezed her sore shoulders in a gentle massage. “You’ll need to soak this workout off.”
Only if you join me.
As if! No one would babysit Pax on their first night off in months. Instead, Tameka stepped away from them both and sat in the training pit stands. “I’ll take your advice after I watch you two for a while.” Her smile was genuine.
Xelan returned in kind, and Pax beamed at them both. The Prince of Cinder squared off with his tawny copy. “Ready?”
Cheesy as always, the father dressed to match the son. Black sweats and white tanks. Black bands wrapped their knuckles and elbows. They were barefoot. Pax barely came to Xelan’s waist, and the boy sported one thing his father didn’t. A chain around his neck. He still possessed Rayne’s emergency blood after everyone either spent theirs or had theirs spent for them during the betrayal.
Pax inhaled through his nose and lowered his hands. His feet were planted firm and square to the center of his balance. Those midnight eyes in that little face flashed with knowledge not yet afforded to him through experience. Red curls bounced when he gave a firm nod. “Ready, daddy.”
Tameka’s chest squeezed with the cuteness. Especially with the proud papa Icarus’ chest puffing out.
This.
This was all Tameka needed.