The Syphon King (Bayou Bishops #16)

Chapter THREE

After a morning of stick-fishing with Little Troy Abner, Hurricane finally got away to read Claire’s letter. She was acting skittish, and he had a feeling it wasn’t just the orgasm he’d tricked her into.

He dropped onto a log next to the bayou and opened it.

Dear Jeramiah,

Here are the details of my life I told you I would give.

Life's been a winding road for me with more twists than these bayous. I’ve never told my story to a single soul, you’ll be the first and the last, and I’ve never been so scared in my life. Not of what I’m gonna tell you but of how you’ll think of me after you know it all.

Every battle I’ve been in left scars deeper than the last. The loss of a child that I had only dared to dream of broke me in ways I didn’t know were possible. Then, in the twistin’ vines of my family tree, my sister who was closer to me once than the cypress is to the swamp, betrayed me with my husband.

His arm lost strength at this news and he lowered the paper. Jesus. He glanced back at the house for a few seconds then returned to the letter, ready to get it over with.

But that birthed more than just sorrow, it brought a beautiful boy into this world who is now my Troy Abner.

Oh fuck. He wasn’t her child.

My sister, she didn't survive that night, she passed right there on our kitchen floor, leavin’ behind a newborn cryin’ for a mother's touch. I tell the story different so’s to protect him because he’s my ray of light in an unending night. I tell you, Jeramiah, his very first cry cut through the longest, darkest silence and woke me up. I suddenly knew, life with all its pain and beauty, it pushes against the odds. That’s what that sweet baby screamed out to me. And I listened.

The craving to love her clawed at his insides and stole his breath.

Making the choice to be Troy Abner’s haven in a world that had shown me none wasn’t just about survival—it was my declaration. My defiance against the darkness, you could say. My living grave wouldn't be the end of my story, but a line drawn in the sand, a downpayment on Troy's life. Because that precious angel is everything to me.

There it was. Everything for anybody but herself. She was terrified to hope and dream and wouldn’t take the risk.

Now, our beginning, you and me, it definitely wasn't scripted. Learning I was chosen by chance rather than destiny was a pill that was hard to swallow. It echoes old wounds from a life that saw me given away to pay my father’s gambling debt, can you believe that?

Again, his arm dropped to his knee as sickness filled him. Mother fuck.

But here you are, showing me that maybe fate's dice can roll in favor of those who've only known misfortune.

Now, about you and me. I see what you’re asking me for, and it scares me to death. I truly don’t know what it is or how to do or be any of that. My ex-husband only knew how to give out pain and suffering of every kind and color. It’s all I know. But I hope and pray you understand this one thing, Jeramiah. This life of mine, today, right now, it’s not about me, it’s about Troy Abner. What I want and need, I took that out of the equation the day he was born in order to protect him. Now, I want to be a good wife to you, this you can believe one hundred percent. I want to give you everything you need and want. But I’d be dead-lyin’ if I told you I’ll be all fixed up and the perfect wife you was hopin’ for come next week or next month or next year.

Regardless of all the evil and obstacles and fears, I am prepared to obey all you require and request regarding our marriage and marriage bed. I would die three times over before doing anything to lose you. Little Troy Abner loves you more than the sun moon and stars and I’m prepared to give everything that I am to protect his sweet heart.

I’ve never begged for many things in my life, Jeramiah, but I’m begging you right now. Please do not leave. Stay. Not for me, but for Troy.

Yours so very very truly,

Claire

Hurricane read that last line five more times. Not for me, but for Troy.

He lowered the letter, looking out at the swamp as he folded it back up, his insides burning. She thought she needed to beg him to stay? Had she not heard a damn thing he’d been telling her? Course she didn’t, she couldn’t hear beyond her very recent horrific past.

With every step he took back to the house, it became clear what this was, what she was doing. All about Troy Abner, not her, not his wife. That was the first thing he needed to change. He might not know much about marriage, but he knew how to cover the multitude of sins put on her. And he wouldn’t stop covering them until she belonged to him and this marriage. This life. This joy.

Hurricane made his way inside and met Claire at the sink. “Where’s Troy Abner, Momma?”

“Upstairs nappin’,” she said quietly, not looking at him.

“I read your letter. Can we talk?”

“Of course,” she said.

Hurricane watched as she continued her cleaning. “Can we do it down by the bayou?”

“Of course,” she said again, casting him a pleasant smile and untying her apron.

Hurricane led the way, walking slow enough to keep pace with her. “You doing okay, Momma?” he asked, reminding her he cared about that more than anything.

“You wanna stand or sit?” she asked when they got to the sitting log.

“I’ll stand if you don’t mind.”

“Me too,” she said, crossing her arms at her waist and peering out at the bayou.

He did the same while searching for the best place to open this nasty can of her past nightmares. “First, I’d like to say I love you and Troy Abner more than...” His throat suddenly closed, and he cleared it. “More than I ever dreamed possible.” He kicked at the log edge, eyeing her lowered head. “But you and me, we don’t see things the same way.”

“Well, tell me how you want me to see them, and I will,” she said simply.

He nodded. “Momma Bear, ready to take a bullet for Baby Bear.” He eyed her. “I hope you know how much I love that.”

“But?” she prompted, clearly expecting that at every turn in her life.

“See, for you, everything’s about Troy Abner. He comes first, you come...hell, you don’t even put yourself on that page. And for me, everything’s about Momma Bear. She comes first. Then Baby Bear.”

“I don’t mind if you put me first, Jeramiah,” she sugar-coated.

He shook his head. She was gonna go the long way with it. “Claire, I’ma tell you something you won’t like to hear but I’ma say it anyway. You matter. You matter. You matter to Troy, and you matter to me.”

“Jeramiah, I know this,” she sputtered. “I know I matter to both of you.”

“Bullshit,” he said at that fake tone. “You don’t know it. But you will.”

“You want me to sign something? What do you want from me to prove to you whatever you need me to?”

He looked at her, his heart hammering nails. “Yeah, I sure do want you to sign something, Claire. I want you to sign your heart on the dotted line. Can you do that?”

“Absolutely can,” she said with that same rehearsed ease.

“Good,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to sign it right here and right now.”

“Fine. Tell me what to do.”

“You can let Troy Abner go have a sleep-over at his other favorite leader’s house—8-Bit and Aunt Cats. And you and I, we’re gonna have our honeymoon.”

She turned her face to the bayou as he cocked his jaw, ready and waiting for the only answer she could give.

“If that is what you want from your wife, I’m happy to obey,” she finally said, easy breezy. “But our honeymoon might have to wait till I’m done with my monthly.”

Really. “I don’t mind waiting. There’s plenty other things we can do.” If that was even true.

She shrugged with that fake smile. “Whatever you want.”

So, they were really gonna do things this way. But he needed to call her bluff. She had to feel every bit of what he felt for her, and he would take as many days as required to show her. She knew loss and pain. Suffering and betrayal. He would give her the opposite till it was all she knew, all she ever remembered. The fire he’d light in her would burn that hell she was trapped in to the ground.

ZENITH WASN’T SURE where to put or hide all her joy. She didn’t want to be a problem to her King, and it seemed everything she said and did was wrong. There is no joy like this in me to give. Never could there be sadder words. She wanted to comfort him so badly. She remembered his admonishment when she mentioned liking his touch. How did this have power over him?

Her legs shook as she sat on the couch waiting for him, looking around the living room again. Where was Jinxxy? Was there a pet door? She remembered she’d get to sleep in his bed. Too bad he wouldn’t be in the same room at least. He’d moved himself into that office of all places. It wasn’t terribly small, but it wasn’t his room that she loved. She didn’t remember ever sleeping in anything like it.

He finally entered the living room, and her jaw dropped at what he wore. Faded black jeans and a black T-shirt with chains hanging everywhere still. She sat there, fighting to appear calm while sneaking peeks. Insanely beautiful! Those dark lenses over his eyes brought a chill tingling over her flushed skin.

He sat on the couch that was next to hers. “Are you okay?” His deep voice added an eargasm to the secret eyegasm still in progress.

She closed her mouth, panicking at the question. At any question. She always answered those wrong. “I’m fine. You just...” Stop there. “I was... Don’t say it! “Just...wondering where Jinxxy was,” she hurried, out of breath.

“Trixie took her out.”

Yes. “Trixie. She’s very nice to me.” She looked down at her dress, moving her hands over it.

“I meant to tell you the dress... suits you.”

She smiled at him. Just thank him. That’s enough. “Thank you.” Stop gasping!

“Let me know if there’s anything particular you want, and I’ll get it.”

Her guardian. Caretaker. “Will I be able to work and...pay you back?”

His lensed gaze moved before him. “Perhaps.”

Mature. Stay focused. “I’m ready to talk about my future.”

“No more questions for me?” he wondered.

“A million. But they can wait.”

Her heart thumped at the flash of his sharp teeth behind the barest smile. “I have a proposition for you.”

Her pulse tripled in excitement of getting anything from him. “Okay.” She stared at the chains on his hands and wrists, wishing she’d asked at least about that. She tried to raise her gaze only to get lost in the expanse of his endless torso. She made it to his lens, finding them possibly aimed at her.

“I need to bind you to me so that I can always know you’re safe.”

Bind? What did this mean to him? “Are you proposing?” She covered her mouth. “Sorry. I’m nervous.”

“I am proposing,” he said, his face so beautiful and distracting.

Wait. “What?”

“I’m proposing that you allow me to bind you to me.”

She was surely dreaming. She considered his words, or the order of them. Him bind her to him. “Anything you need me to do, I’m happy to do it,” she said, fighting to keep the excitement from her voice. “That hasn’t changed.”

“I didn’t tell you yet what it is.”

“It doesn’t matter what it is. I’ll do it.”

He angled his head a little. “Under any other circumstances, that would be very stupid.”

She swallowed, sensing he was staring right at her. “I agree.”

The tip of his tongue peeked out and her stomach danced at seeing some kind of metal on it. Sweet heaven, where all did he wear these dangling things?

“I’m going to have you inked with a bio-ink capable of detecting and analyzing emotional fluctuations in real-time. Heartrate variability, skin conductance and brainwave patterns. It’ll be equipped with wireless connectivity that communicates directly to the receiver I will have embedded on my body giving me immediate feedback on your wellbeing.” He paused. “Do you understand that I will always have this power and ability regarding this?”

Zenith felt flush and faint. May as well be a marriage. She’d joked about it while secretly wishing it were real. Answer the question. “I understand and I’m still more than willing.”

She waited again, tugging at the dress bunched in her fingers.

“Why do you give me this much control over you?” he seemed to puzzle, maybe accuse.

Yes, that was the big question she asked even herself. She knew one of those answers. “You saved my life.” Her stomach danced through another span of silence while she gathered more of her dress in her fists.

“Is this the only reason? Answer honestly. I must know.”

She took a careful breath then slowly released it.

“You fear answering me,” he stated after angling his head.

“I...do,” she whispered.

“Why?”

“I fear...disappointing you.”

“You have nobody to please here but yourself.”

“I also...have very strong feelings for you.”

Another tilt of his head. “Because I saved your life.”

“Partly,” she said with great hesitance. “I’m not sure of the rest of it.”

More silence.

“In return for your cooperation, I will give you a single thing that you wish.”

Wow. He was giving her something for letting him take care of her? “Like what?” she wondered, not about to waste the gift.

“Whatever you wish if I can give it.”

Wow again. “Can I have time to think about it?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“There’s something about you that calls to things in me,” she confessed quickly. “And I...can’t seem to stop from answering it.”

He adjusted himself on the sofa, the movement graceful as he stretched a leg and placed one of his chain-inked hands between them.

“You terrify me,” she whispered, confessing more. “And yet I’m not afraid. I need to...it feels like I need to touch you.”

“Kuff,” he ordered, the rough word making her insides jump. “Don’t say such things to me. I have told you there is power in your words.”

She lowered her head. “Yes. Sorry. I was...trying to be honest as you requested.”

“I see things when I siphon people. About them.”

She again nodded, fear slowly filling her, still unsure what he’d seen of her. Only that it seemed to anger him.

“I must allow time for them to process and for my body to calibrate and remove it.”

“How long...does that take?” she wondered.

“Usually, it happens in the Voltorium.”

Except with her. “I’m sorry,” she said, fighting back her tears.

“What are you sorry for?”

His anger made the skin on her arms itch. “That you’re plagued with my problems. That I can’t remember most of them. And that I feel like a disease you’re stuck with.”

Her gaze snapped up at his deep chuckle. “It is I, Zeen, who is the disease and plague.”

Zeen? “What is...Zeen?”

“Your shortened name in my tongue. Zen.”

She couldn’t stop her smile. “I like it. What is your tongue?”

“Arabic.”

The r rolled on his deep voice, the sound of pure desire in her ears. She wanted to hear more. “How do you say Zodak?”

“Zoe-dAHk.”

“Zoe-DAHk. And how do you say mean?”

“Muh-toe-sit.”

She nodded. “Muh-toe-sit Zoe-dAHk.”

His laugh lit her entire body up and pulled her joy from all its carefully hidden places till giggles bubbled out of her.

“You have not seen me gah-dib or muh-toe-sit, little Zeen.”

Little Zeen. This made her smile inside. “Gah-dib?”

“Angry.”

She forced the burning question from her tongue. “Why did you make your teeth pointed?”

He leaned forward with a deep breath and put his forearms on his knees, angling his lenses at her. “Why do you assume I did it to myself?”

Her stomach tensed. “Because you’re...smart and...I think you do all things for a reason.”

She watched his face, hoping she hadn’t messed up again. “Yes,” he conceded softly. “It helps me taste the emotions of people, so I don’t engage my siphoning.”

“So, you...did it to protect others.”

“And to keep them away from me.”

Pain clenched her chest at hearing this. “I wish you would take mine,” she whispered.

His head lifted. “Take your what?”

She fidgeted with her fingers, fighting back all that he didn’t want her saying. “My everything. For yourself. I don’t mind giving it even if you emptied me, you deserve to feel joy and happiness.”

He stood and walked across the room, his anger so strong it pulled the tears right from her eyes. “What must I do to stop you from saying such things?”

The heat in her chest got her stomach turning and pulse racing. “Well...your words have power too,” she forced past the pressure inside her. “You can’t just say them and expect me to just sit here and do nothing. You go out of your way to protect people but what if I want to protect you, is that so wrong?” A sob choked her words, and she wiped the tears from her face. “You don't get to save my life and be the most amazing person I’ve ever met and ask me to do nothing when I can feel your pain.”

He spoke a string of winded words in that beautiful language while bracing his hands on the fireplace mantle. She’d gone too far. And she couldn’t handle any more of his scolding.

She hurried to the bedroom, then the bathroom and went to the farthest corner of the shower room and sat, pulling her knees in tight. It was a familiar position to her, and she didn’t know why. He’d taken many things from her when he siphoned, but she wouldn’t tell him that and see him beat himself up over it.

She gasped on a silent sob, fighting them back and losing. Why couldn’t she just have him? Why did it have to be wrong? She just craved to love him. Why did he have to see himself as a monster? Why? She cried as quietly as she could until the pain and need morphed into exhaustion. Then she found her safe place in that quiet darkness in her mind.