Page 113 of Carnal: The Beast Who Loved Me

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Storm had just lit the oven-height gas fireplace in his kitchen at the vineyard villa. He was waiting for the coffee pod machine to finish gurgling, and thinking how much he was enjoying his two-week leave from Jefferson Unit. He’d slept late and was looking forward to leisurely reading the news on his tablet while Litha slept even later.

He wore a favorite pair of old faded jeans, some soft and slouchy topsiders, and a plaid flannel robe with a microfleece lining, just as old, just as comfortable. He untied the robe, rewrapped it over his bare chest, and tied it a little tighter around his waist.

He was staring at the dribbling coffee as if that would make it brew faster when he heard the sound of a sniffle behind him. Knowing that he and Litha were alone in the house, he whirled around, not knowing what to expect.

There stood Rosie, face red, eyes swollen with tears still coursing down her cheeks. She wore strange clothing that made her look like an extra from a “Mad Max” movie.

Storm’s lips parted in surprise. He was just about to form a question when she whimpered, “Daddy,” and walked forward into arms that opened to encircle her.

“Rosie,” he ground out. “What’s happened?”

Her only answer was sobbing into his chest.

Storm knew enough about women to know that they are better interrogatedafterthey’ve had their cry. So he simply held her patiently, while his mind ran through imaginary scenarios of what might have happened to cause her to be bereft. Judging by the length and depth of the sadness she was expressing, he knew it was something more than Sephora being out of her favorite nail polish. That might seem random, but he had once comforted his Rosie through being stricken over the fact that Puma Pink had been discontinued. He’d tried hard to imagine how such a thing could bring a person, even an immature person, to tears, but fell short. That was when he’d learned that he didn’t have to fix everything; sometimes he just had to give a hug and a listen.

So he leaned back into the granite kitchen counter behind him and waited. But he never got a chance to ask the questions that were forming in his mind because a figure materialized behind Rosie. In his kitchen. Uninvited.

Over the years Storm had become somewhat desensitized to people forming from thin air, but some residual feeling that it was just wrong would always remain.

“Rosie!” Kellareal said it like an accusation. “What have you done?”

Storm actually wanted to know the answer to that, himself. The fact that the angel looked appalled wasn’t lost on him, but his instincts as a father overrode everything else. He quickly moved Rosie so that he stood in front of her, knowing that he could only form a barrier so long as the angel allowed it.

“What do you want and what makes you think you can just barge into my kitchen whenever you want?”

“This doesn’t concern you,” Kellareal said to Storm dismissively.

“Really? Does it not concernmeeither?” Litha stood at the door with tousled hair wearing a flannel plaid robe similar to Storm’s, but smaller and floor length.

“Not really, witch.” Kellareal’s attention barely flickered away from Rosie.

His dismissive attitude incensed Litha. “Witch, is it? This is my home! This is my child! If you have business with her, you have business with us.” She moved to stand next to Storm, took in a deep breath, looked at the ceiling and shouted, “Dad!”

Kellareal did a double take and gaped at her. “You think summoning that ridiculous sex demon is equivalent to calling in reinforcements? This is not his concern. You know he only makes fucked up situations more fucked up.”

“Strange language for an asexual entity,” said Deliverance as he appeared next to Kellareal. “What’s up?”

“This is between Elora Rose and me,” said Kellareal. “We had an agreement. She violated the terms. Restitution has to be made.”

Storm, Litha, and Deliverance all looked at Rosie to answer the charge.

“Is that true?” Litha asked quietly. Rosie’s tears had slowed. She sighed, glanced at the angel, and nodded, looking so grief-stricken that Litha’s maternal empathy joined her defensive instincts. She pulled a tissue from her robe pocket, wiped Rosie’s cheeks then gave her a reassuring hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure this out.”

She looked at Storm. “Can I have some of that coffee?”

Storm looked at the machine. “Yeah,” he said tossing both the pod and the coffee he’d been brewing for himself. “Everybody sit down.” He motioned to the wrought iron stools with padded leather seats that were pulled up to the kitchen island. “Who else wants coffee?”

“I’ll take a Kona,” said Deliverance. Storm reached for a pod. “No. Not that cheap stuff. I’ll take the hundred percent Kona you keep in the cabinet.” After giving Deliverance a brief glare, Storm opened the cabinet above the coffee station and retrieved a gold foil hundred percent Kona pod. “Don’t be so stingy. I’ll bring you more next time I find myself craving grass skirts.”

Storm started the brew then looked at Rosie, who had seated herself near the fire.

“Hot chocolate,” she said, looking miserable and clutching the tissue her mother had given her.

When Storm nodded at Kellareal, the angel rolled his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Earl Grey.”

Eight minutes later all five had a steaming cup of comfort in front of them. Three were waiting for an explanation.

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