To Race the Wylde Wynd Ch. 21

Chrysta stood totally still, seemingly mesmerized by the hand that was nestled in his. The tip of her tongue slipped out to wet dry lips as those stormy green eyes traveled up his chest to meet his flashing golden ones.

“Well... I can't say as that I can recall ANYONE ever filling out that outfit in quite that way before!”

Her words came out husky and were whispered almost against his lips. They were interrupted by wolf whistles and cat calls from the barn crowd. Chrysta staggered hard up against him as she was pushed from behind.

Azra snarled and Templer's head snapped up, intending on giving the rude person the scare of his life. He found himself looking... up... into the glowing amber eyes of two very amused destria. Andrew had brought the precision team up and the beautifully brindled, red striped over gold pair evidently thought the whole scene highly entertaining.

Chrysta hastily stepped back, her cheeks flushing a light pink. HA... Templer thought, we finally made HER blush for a change. Azra snickered evilly and gave him a mental nudge. The man looked up and realized with a stirring of panic that there were more than a few lustful visages in the aisle. SOME of them were NOT female. Constantine was intensely grateful when Chrysta motioned for him to join her. Once up on the driver's seat of the ornate Brougham, they escaped out of the barn.

Later that afternoon they sat in the dimness of the Ironwood having a late lunch. Chrysta was laughing as she laid all the blame for only coming in third in the precision driving at Templer's feet.

"What... you LOST?"

Grant, who had topped off their drinks and was heading back to the bar, swung around in shock.

“Well let's just say it's REALLY hard to concentrate on the course, when you have other... THINGS... on your mind.”

Templer grinned into his tea. She could blame Azra for that. Every time the closely seated gunman's arm or shoulder had brushed hers, Chrysta had been unable to control the slight jerk, shiver, or twitch of her hand. It had screwed up her driving completely! She did not actually come out and say this... but the bartender was a smart man. His gaze switched from her to the smiling priest then back as his eyebrows gave crawling right off the top of his head their best shot. Grant snickered and headed back to his bar.

Templer hastily wiped the grin off his face when she glanced his way. He tried like hell to look like he felt sorry for her. Chrysta snorted a laugh at his failed effort.

“It's really no big deal. I only entered the brindled team to show them off and to lure in prospective buyers. Having you...” she nudged the quiet man's arm gently, “...as eye candy drove the bidding up sharply.” Her grin turned into a wicked smile.

“You would be AMAZED at some of the offers I got.”

“I wouldn't be!” Azra was definitely feeling a little smug.

Chrysta's eyes darkened to a smoldering green.

“No... I wasn't surprised by them either. Where did you learn how to play THAT kind of game?”

Azra was so quiet for a moment that they thought he wasn't going to answer, then the demon sighed.

“I can't remember clearly but I get the impression from what fragments I can recall that where ever I originally came from, that kind of "game" is court protocol. I am pretty sure that if you don't get damn good at it while still young, you don't survive.”

“WHERE... you came from?” Templer couldn't hide the surprise in his voice.

He had been told that elementals were called into being by a summons. He had no idea Azra had a life before this.

“OH yes Constantine, I had a life before being bonded to you! I cannot remember much, but it is enough that I grieve what was torn from me. I am shackled to you and in my heart I know I can never return to what was. It is probably a blessing that my Binding prevents me from remembering the full truth. I believe that knowledge might destroy me.”

As he spoke the outrider's iron control slipped and Templer's mind was flooded with anger, bitterness, and a terrible sorrow. Chrysta gasped and jerked as she also caught the brunt of it. Seeing her distress, Azra made an effort to rein in the emotional flood.

Templer sat in stunned silence as a terrible guilt overwhelmed him.

“Azra, I am so sorry! I didn't know...”

“And you damned sure didn't ask!”

Anger flashed again, then the outrider sighed. Remembering the man's emotional instability, he took pity on the Talon and relented.

“It's okay Constantine, It’s not as if you don't have enough to deal with. When we were first melded I hated all humans equally. I know I did not go out of my way to make your life any easier. In truth much of this is my own fault. In the beginning I was offered a choice... I COULD have refused to keep you alive... then we both would have had the relief that oblivion brings. I am selfish in my own way and my actions took that option from us. I am the one who should apologize for that. You did not create this mess. Your amazing ability to take what has been handed to you and make it work has helped me to adjust to my own existence... such as it is.”

“So... I am responsible for ruining your life also?” The gunman almost whispered the words.

“YES and no.” Azra sounded thoughtful. “Yes... there is no question that because of what was done to you, the life I had is gone. The Maker's did not even give ME the small mercy of remembering my true name! Still... I will not let those that have done this prevail. I have decided that I will live the life that I have now to the best of my abilities. A decision, I will point out Templer Constantine, that you have yet to make!”

Templer was too stunned to say anything. He glanced at the woman sitting across from him, curious about her reaction to the part of the conversation she could hear.

She blinked and looked directly back at him, chestnut eyebrows arched in amazement.

“I told you before that I was pretty sure HE didn't consider himself a demon.”

A sad smile played across her lips when Azra harrumphed in reaction.

“I hate that term...” was all the outrider said.

“And... whatever he might be, Azra makes some very valid points, quite eloquently I might add.”

The sound of a throat being cleared made them both jump. Grant had returned with a fresh pitcher of iced tea and an extra glass. He had a group of rolled maps tucked under one arm and a couple of pencils stuck haphazardly behind his ears. The gunman stared in astonishment. He found it very hard to believe that the innkeeper had ever been a Temple guard.

The big man smiled amiably.

“I hate to disturb what looks like an intense conversation.” He shrugged apologetically, “But if you are leaving this evening, Chrysta, you need to decide the route you are going to take.”

The barman slipped smoothly into an empty chair and with a couple of efficient moves had their drinks topped off and the maps spread out on the table. Chrysta picked up her glass, sipped some tea and made an outrageous face at the maps.

“Mother of Demons...” she groaned, “...how I do HATE festival week!”

Grant looked at her without sympathy.

“So retire, at least then we wouldn't have to listen to you whine.”

“I do NOT whine!” Was her indignant reply.

Those remarkable eyes narrowed dangerously as Templer choked on his tea. Azra wisely made no comment.

The gunman finally got the tea swallowed and his voice was still a little unsteady as he asked.

“So, you are going somewhere tonight?”

Chrysta nodded to him absentmindedly as she followed a line Grant had drawn on one of the maps.

“Umm Humm. There are several routes you can take to complete the Gauntlet. Some traverse easier terrain, but are longer in distance. Some are quite a bit shorter, but a lot more dangerous in the territory they cover.” She met his eyes for a moment. “Sometimes winning is more a matter of strategy than speed. I need to ride the course in advance and decide which way I am going to take Inferno on race day."

“Hold on..." Azra was almost growling, "There is NO way you can go out and be back by nightfall.”

“Yes, that is true. I will have to rough it tonight and plan on being back tomorrow afternoon.”

Chrysta leaned back and the look she gave him had Templer (not for the first time) wishing avidly that he could separate himself from his demon. Her dispassionate tone was dangerously neutral.

“Is this a problem?”

“Shut up Azra.” Templer was whispering the words in his head.

“I will NOT shut up Constantine! Riding alone at night is just plain STU...”

The words trailed off as the woman leaned forward, her ice cold green eyes trapping the Talon's gold ones.

Grant looked as if he was getting ready to duck and cover as Chrysta smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. As a matter of fact, Templer was pretty sure he had seen nicer smiles on the muzzles of giant Arcanian Dire wolves just before they tried to eat him.

“Well, I guess if you are THAT worried about me doing something as... unwise... as riding out alone, maybe you should...”

“Ride along with you?”

The gunman had never heard the demon sound sheepish before. It was disconcerting to say the least.

“UmmmHumm...”

The woman gave Azra a couple more seconds to squirm under her hard glare, then went back to studying her maps.

Templer, who had been entertaining thoughts of a hot shower, a glass of red wine, and maybe even relaxing with a good book that evening, thought about how sore he had been after just a few hours of riding.

“CRAP! Well thanks a lot Azra. Next time I say Shut Up! SHUT the fuck UP!!”

These words were delivered with a sarcastic sting.

“SORRY Constantine..." The demon was very quiet for a moment. Then... as if he just couldn't help himself... he added. “This might not be half bad you know. Romantic moonlight, being alone in the dark, big hot bodies moving between your thighs, naked bodies intertwined next to a campfire!”

Chrysta's head snapped up while Templer buried his face in his hands.

“HEY as you keep telling me... IF I am a demon! I am SUPPOSED...”

Templer cut him off.

“I know, I know! You are supposed to have depraved appetites.”

“AHHH..." Azra sighed happily. “You are finally starting to understand me!”

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