To Race the Wylde Wynd Chapter 17

“Oh you are good!” Chrysta's face hardened for a moment.

“Yes... Grant was a Temple Guard... I guess technically he might still be Ranked! When the man first came here, he seemed a nasty piece of work. I would have told you then, that I would marry El Diablo out there before I would have anything to do with Grant.”

She noticed the incredulous look on the gunman's face and gave a bemused little shrug.

“Hey, I will admit to being wrong on rare occasions. We never have figured out if it was the Hand that sent Grant to keep an eye on us and he switched loyalties. Or was he an implanted pawn of Thranatos' that the Prince maneuvered here to make sure there was no funny business against Forrest. To answer the question you asked this morning fully. Tynan worked with me on blades and Grant drills me in hand to hand to this day. With my enhanced reactions I CAN defend myself in most circumstances.”

Her fierce expression softened, and she studied Templer with a critical eye.

“Although I have no problem admitting that this morning showed me enough that I would rather not come up against you or Azra in a fair fight.”

The outrider's rumbling laughter interrupted her.

“I will bet my wings you in no way, fight fair!”

The woman abruptly straightened up in her chair.

“I was taught you do what it takes to win and worry about the fair part later."

Templer gave a slight nod.

“I was having a hard time picturing Grant as a killer, but that DOES sound like something a Temple Guard would say.”

As a matter of fact, the Talon was sure he had heard the same thing a long time ago when he was in training.

The woman across from him leaned forward and the look in her eyes didn't bode well for someone. Waving him close she whispered conspiratorially.

“If you ever want to have some fun and witness something truly impressive, just start a bar fight downstairs. The man is AWESOME in close quarters.” She leaned back in her seat and the priest barely heard the softly muttered, “Just don't let him find out it was you who started it!”

Templer just stared at her with one eyebrow arched.

“What?” She sounded defensive. Then her face broke out in that beautiful, wicked smile. “Yeah, I have done it a few times. He is just so damn much fun to watch. If I give the locals notice they will even pay to come. BUT... you didn't hear that from me!”

Laughing quietly, she levered herself to her feet and opened the window back up. The worst part of the storm had passed, and the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

Her dark green eyes glanced down at him.

“Are you planning on trying to sleep tonight?”

His head felt like it was full of hot glass. His body felt like he had gone a round with a dragon. With all of that there was no way in the seven hells he was closing his eyes tonight. He would rather die than dream!

Chrysta just looked at him when his only answer was a slight shake of his head.

“Hmmm, well when you decide you need some rest, let me know. I think I can provide something that will help... IF you are interested. I need to get some sleep so we will have to continue this some other time.” The woman sat on the edge of the duvet and wrapped up in her quilt.

Templer watched the rain fall for a moment then silently got up to turn off the light. When he returned to his chair she had laid down.

“Constantine, pardon my asking... but I have heard that a Talon can serve in the capacity of priest in certain circumstances. Do you have to remain celibate?” She sounded sleepy but when he flashed a look her way, the woman's eyes were open and watching him intently.

“No... Talons are not forbidden from partaking of the fruit of the flesh. It is... discouraged... unless absolutely necessary as a part of our duties.”

Templer could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she sorted through the implications of that carefully stated answer. He could tell the exact moment when she decided to shelve it for later thought. A small part of him that had tensed up relaxed as there was no disgust evident in her next words.

“So... do you have someone special in your life?”

The gunman knew what she was asking and chose to tiptoe around the answer.

“Yes, I have people whom I consider friends.”

The snort that he expected came as if on cue.

“That's not what I meant and you know it! Is there someone special in your life who isn't a... absolute necessity to your duties!? Surely there's a person that regards YOU as someone special?”

“Hnnn,”

Templer did NOT want to be having this particular conversation.

“No, there is no significant... other... in my life. Although I believe there is one who would like to be.”

Chrysta seemed to perk up.

“Really... and what about you? You aren't interested in her... or... him?”

“I am too old to be romantically interested in Iniko, she is only nineteen and I am not a pedophile.” (Five hundred years too old!) This disturbing thought was hastily shoved to the back of his mind. He did NOT want to wander down that particular path yet!

The gunman was amazed when Chrysta flipped her quilt up over her face and rolled over on her side. For a moment he was confused, then insulted when what sounded suspiciously like muffled laughter reached his ears.

He reached over and poked her lightly in the back.

“That was not intended to be funny.”

The sound of laughter stopped but Templer could tell by the way her shoulders were shaking that she must have stuffed something in her mouth to muffle it completely. With a long suffering sigh, he asked.

“Should I leave until you get this out of your system or do you want me to stay and watch you suffocate on your own laughter?"

Chrysta must have realized he was insulted. She rolled over and uncovered her face.

“I am so sorry Constantine; I am not laughing at what you said. I am laughing at the fact it mirrored my thoughts exactly.”

At his look of total confusion, she broke out in the giggles again.

"I was watching you when you rose to turn out the lights. The thought crossed my mind that you are incredibly attractive. DON'T give me that look! Just because I am a little older, doesn't mean I am dead! Then right on its heels was... OH MY GOD CHRYSTA... the man LOOKS like he is at least twenty years your junior. YOU are a pedophile!”

Templer felt the corners of his mouth turn up, damn if her giggles weren't infectious.

“Technically, you could not qualify as a pedophile. My actual age NOT including the five centuries is over eighty.” The gunman was interrupted by Azra.

“I am much older than you both. Normally this discussion would turn my stomach. BUT... in this case I can honestly say that being a pedophile would be NO problem at all!”

The priest's smile slipped, and he winced at the thought of having Azra not only aware but actively participating with/in him as part of a sexual tryst.

Chrysta caught his expression and burst out in a new round of laughter. At his wounded look she relented.

“You should count yourself lucky. You have YOUR voyeuristic demon limited to one and HE at least matches your sexual persuasion. I have three, and two of them are MALE. It's bad when Nuva interrupts by asking; he wants you to put WHAT... WHERE? You should try staying focused when the boys are popping up with things like; tell him he should try it destria style. Or...he needs to practice his nibbling. Or my personal favorite; WOW... is that all the bigger the dangly bits get?”

It wasn't her words that finally got him. It was the ridiculous expressions on her face as she imbued each comment with that particular destria's individual personality. All of a sudden, Templer found himself laughing as hard as she was. Both of them continued until their stomachs hurt and all that remained was an occasional giggle or intermittent chuckle. The gunman had forgotten how good a hearty laugh made you feel. It had been a very long time since he had a reason to indulge in one.

Chrysta used a corner of her quilt to wipe her eyes.

“Ahhh Templer, I cannot tell you how much it means to find someone who knows exactly what I have been living with. I truly thought I was the only person in the world with THIS kind of problem.”

The woman settled back against her pillows and her eyelids drooped.

Templer watched her silently for a long moment. “Do you?” He asked.

“Do I what?” She looked at him sleepily.

“Do you have someone special in your life?”

Chrysta's expressive face stilled, and the priest thought she wasn't going to answer. Then, she closed her eyes.

“No Constantine, I have let no one into my life since my marriage ended. I have been alone every second of every day, starting from the moment that Forrest died.” A small, sad smile curved her lips as she continued.
“Maybe this is how it is supposed to be, being as how I am the one who killed him.”

Shaken by her answer and the incredible sadness he heard in her voice, Templer didn't say anymore. He just sat and quietly watched until Chrysta's face smoothed out and her breathing had deepened into a pattern that said she was asleep.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

link to next chapter
https://steemit.com/art/@fetherhd/to-race-the-wylde-wynd-ch-18