InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 9: Subterfuge ❯ Shadows ( Chapter 186 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

'She is going to kill you when she realizes that you lied to her.'

'. . . I didn't lie . . . Ooooh . . . Damn, I never thought I'd say that I love the hell outta bumps in the road . . .'

'Yeah, well, if you groan out loud, she's going to hear you—which won't matter, I guess, all things considered.  And just what do you mean, you didn't lie?'

'I didn't lie,' he insisted, unable to resist the urge to press himself closer against Valerie's back.  It was true.  He didn't lie, exactly.  He just didn't really answer her, which, he supposed, was about the same thing.

His youkai voice snorted indelicately.  'A lie by omission is still a lie.'

'Yeah, yeah.  Tell me you're not enjoying this, too.'

'. . . Okay, fine, I'm enjoying this, too.'

Evan chuckled softly, but when she turned off the road onto a smaller, cobblestone side street, he stifled yet another groan.  'When she corners, she clenches her ass cheeks . . . Fuck!  I'm gonna come in my pants!'

He was an idiot, he was certain.  Most definitely a glutton for punishment.  Damned if he wasn't enjoying himself a little more than he ought to, though.   He was going to be sorry for this later on; he was sure . . .

Too bad he just couldn't help himself, either.  When Valerie had so carefully gone to the trouble of sneaking him out of the arena through the kitchen housed underneath the stadium—the one that was built to cater to the sports teams and the important people who attended the functions hosted there.  Evan had let her lead him through, and he'd grinned at one girl who was washing up some dishes from the food they'd so painstakingly prepared according to Evan and the band's trailers.  He had been too psyched up to eat much of anything—he rarely did before a show, anyway, though usually it was just because he was too hyper to remember that he had something available.

Still, he followed Valerie through the kitchen without hesitation, through the short maze of corridors, and out of one of the side service exits that was shielded from view by an arrangement of dumpsters and fairly poorly lit, to boot, and he raised his eyebrows at the vision that awaited him.

"It's a motorcycle," he remarked at length when he noticed the unmistakable pride on Valerie's face.

"That's right, Roka," she replied, turning a very bright smile on him.

"This is your idea of blowing off steam?" he pressed.

She rolled her eyes but stepped toward the contraption.  It wasn't new by any means, but it looked to be in fairly good repair.

"So how'd you get your hands on that?"

Swinging a leg over the bike, she shifted a bit as though she were making herself more comfortable and reached for the helmet hanging from the handlebars.  "I rented it for the night from one of the guys that works in the kitchen," she confessed.  "Now come on.  I'm going to teach you how to ride."

He opened his mouth to tell her that he already knew how; that he'd first gotten his license to operate a motorcycle years ago, but snapped it closed just as quickly.  She looked way too pleased with her accomplishment for him to burst her bubble, now didn't she?  Besides . . .

"You mean, you have your license to ride that thing?" Evan asked instead, ambling toward the motorcycle a few steps.

"Yes," she replied, lifting her chin a notch.  "When I was in college, I dated a guy who had one, and he told me that he'd let me ride it if I got my license."  A rather thoughtful expression surfaced on her face, and she snorted indelicately.  "He was lying, though.  He never did let me ride it alone."

He'd laughed and hadn't said anything else as he'd climbed on the motorcycle behind Valerie, and he hadn't said much since then, either.  He didn't have to.

She was good, he'd give her that.  She knew what she was doing, all right.  So it might not be the first thing that would occur to him after performing one of the biggest shows that Madrid would witness all year, but there was something to be said for it, too.  Being close to Valerie was more than enough—even if he was going to end up paying for the indulgence for a while . . .

'Aww, well, that doesn't really make it any better, now does it?' his youkai voice broke through his musings.

'What's that?' Evan asked, stifling a groan as Valerie rounded another corner.

His youkai made a sound not unlike Evan's previous groan.  'Sniff, you fool.'

He did.  Then he gritted his teeth as a powerful wave of overwhelming lust slammed straight through him.  It was of little comfort for him to realize that, no matter what she might say, Valerie most definitely wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.  No, at the moment, that was not really something that he wanted or needed to have on his mind.  Considering there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it, it just figured.  With every breath he drew, the scent of her infiltrated his body a little deeper, and he couldn't quite help himself as he tightened his grip on her hips, pressed himself a little closer a little, lifting his hips slightly, mentally cursing the barriers of fabric that separated their naked skin.  In answer to his movements,  the depth, the lure of her scent deepened, her ass cheeks tightening as she shifted slightly, unconsciously, as though her body couldn't decide if it was trying to escape him or if it was trying to move in closer . . .

All in all, it was torture, plain and simple, and Evan . . . wasn't he the fool for falling so easily into such an obvious trap?

'Yeah, well . . . it's just a matter of time,' he told himself.  The words somehow seemed hollow.

'Maybe, but . . . But aren't you getting tired of waiting?'

Evan closed his eyes for a moment, breathed in the scent of her as well as he could, trying in vain to ignore the deeper smells and the unspoken secrets they contained.  'Tired of . . . of waiting . . .'


The sound of traffic in the distance interrupted the calming visage of the Rio Manzanares.  Watching the water ripple in such a peaceful way soothed the edges of Valerie's nerves, though Evan had yet to let go of her, and she couldn't say that she wanted him to do that, anyway.  Leaning against him, feeling the warmth of his body surrounding her . . .

There was another feeling down deep, too—one she was trying desperately to ignore.  She supposed that it couldn't be helped, considering the way they'd been situated on the motorcycle.  He had to hold onto her, and though she knew that the proximity was playing just as much hell on his emotions as it was on hers, she couldn't quite get herself to give voice to her objections, to make him move a little further away.

He was a paradox, wasn't he?  One minute, he was nothing but uncontained energy, spouting things that no human should ever say, and the next?  The next moment, he'd be lost in thoughts, as though he were contemplating things that seemed to be beyond her grasp, just as he himself felt to her.  She supposed that after so much time spent together, she had seen all of the things that had made him into the man he was, and yet he never failed to surprise her, either.  What was it about him?  Why was it that he could so easily pull her out of her normal existence, bring her into his?

"Tell me what you're thinking about," Evan said, his voice quiet, perhaps afraid to interrupt the moment as it broke through the peaceful idyll that had blanketed them since they'd stopped here beside the river that traversed Madrid.

Letting out a deep breath, a silent sigh, Valerie snuggled back against him just a little more.  "I was just thinking that you're a strange man," she admitted.

He chuckled at her choice of words.  "Strange, am I?" he countered mildly, burying his face in her hair and breathing deep.  "How so?"

"What do you mean, how so?  You just . . . You just are," she said with a helpless little shrug, as though she had no better way to explain her feelings, and maybe she didn't.  "It's nice out here, isn't it?"

"Mmm," he intoned, wrapping his arms a little tighter around her.  "Not so bad," he allowed.

The sound of his voice was a deep resonance, more of a rumbling of his chest, though why that thought occurred to her, she didn't know.  It made her smile.

"I know; I know.  Not nearly as much 'fun' for you as your usual distractions, right?"

He chuckled.  "I don't know about that," he admitted.  "At least I'm not going to wake up with a hangover in the morning—or wondering who the fuck is sleeping next to me."

She rolled her eyes but smiled.  "As if you've let that stop you before," she scoffed, reaching over her shoulder, grasping a handful of Evan's long hair and giving it a playful tug.

"Ah, but I'm reformed," he insisted, planting a kiss on the top of her head.  "Well, almost."

"Is that right?" she countered easily, almost lazily, her gaze shifting to the myriad of stars that dotted the heavens so far above.  "And I suppose it's all for me?"

"Sounds about right," he replied in a playful tone.  Underneath it all, though, she could sense a certain level of gravity, but she didn't dwell upon it.  "How about you agree to marry me now?"

For some reason, his question didn't surprise her.  "Do you think that we should be heading back soon?"

His chuckle escalated, likely at her pointed evasion of his question.  "Eh, we don't have to be at the airport till tomorrow afternoon," he said.  "No hurries."

She digested that for a moment in silence.  Of course he wasn't too interested in rushing, considering that the only thing waiting for him at the hotel was more insanity, more security, more invisible cages.  Still . . . "Yeah, but weren't you supposed to do some things in the morning?  Interviews and stuff?"

"Those won't be a problem," he insisted, discarding her concerns without a second thought.

That was true enough, she supposed.  How often had he said before that the interviews were really nothing more than the same questions, the same answers, and the same stories printed over and over again?  Then again, the pictures that usually accompanied those interviews were normally pretty interesting.  Evan, unlike many, didn't mind if they brought a photographer along, but then, why should he?  He never looked bad, as far as she could tell . . .

"You realize, don't you?" she said suddenly, the barest trace of an ornery smile quirking her lips, "you can't get married to me or anyone else, for that matter.  Your fans would never be able to deal with that—the women, anyway."

He was smiling.  She could feel it in the air around him.  "You think so?  It's not like it would have anything to do with whether or not I keep writing music."

She snorted.  She couldn't help herself.  "Do you think that that's all anyone cares about?"

He laughed.  "Are you saying that they only listen to my shit because I'm, what?  Hot?  Sexier than hell?"

"Modest, aren't you?" she grumbled, which only made him laugh a little harder.  "No, but if you honestly think that all those girls don't fantasize about being the one to tame you, then you're dumb."

That statement amused him even more, and it took a minute for his laughter to wind down enough for him to speak again.  "Yeah, and any of those girls who think about crap like that when they've never even met me?  They're in lust with Zel Roka, not me."

There was truth in what he said.  Even so, Valerie had to roll her eyes.  "But you are Zel Roka," she reminded him in a tone that stated that she thought he was being purposefully obtuse.  "Unless you're suddenly starting to develop a case of multiple personality disorder . . . ?"

"Oh, they might know my favorite color or the reason I wrote one song or another, but they don't know me . . . Weren't you the one who told me that before?"

"It's just . . . These women that you're looking for . . . They don't know you, nothing about you.  They don't know that you . . . that you look at stars or . . . or how much you love your mama.  They don't know that you'd protect your friends, even if it meant that you'd spend years in jail for it.  They don't know that you love to cook or that you can play every instrument under the sun.  They don't know how . . .  They don't know how you hold your niece in your arms like she's the most precious thing on earth.  They don't know how truly beautiful you are on the inside, and . . . and I just wish that they did.  I . . . just wish that you did . . ."

Valerie blinked as those words—her words—whispered themselves in her head.  Despite the teasing in his tone, she could sense the contemplation lying just below the carefully constructed façade.  Had what she'd said to him on the pier what seemed like ages ago really sink in so deeply?  Maybe . . . maybe it had . . . "I . . . I guess I did," she allowed quietly.

Evan sighed, more of an exhalation than an actual sound.  It stirred her hair in the stillness.  "Not that there isn't something to be said for having a good time, but that's not the kind of woman I'd ever consider marrying."

"Good," she said with a nod of approval as she patted Evan's arms that were still crossed over her stomach.  "Glad to hear it.  You deserve better."

"That's what I said," he agreed with another chuckle—a soft, warm sound that sent a shiver up her spine, just the same.

She brushed that aside, though.  "So what brought on such a thoughtful mood, anyway?"

"Nothing, really," he quipped.  "Just another attempt at getting into your panties . . . Don't suppose it's working, is it . . .?"

"Nope," she replied, just as glibly.  "Nice try, though."

"Really?"

She laughed.  "No."

He sighed again.  "Figures."

"Why are you so incorrigible?" she asked, unable to staunch the laughter that bubbled up inside her.

Evan grinned.  "I dunno, V.  Why were you in my bushes?"

"Oh, my God," she scoffed, giving him a playful shove with her shoulder.  "Just when I think you're done being a total jerk, you have to bring that up.  Again."

"I can't help it, V," he objected between chuckles.  "When you're given something like that, you can't help but to keep it—and remember it—and use it."

She heaved a sigh as his laughter escalated.  "Figures."

It took a while for his amusement to wear thin, and even after he'd finally wound down, he'd still erupted in silent laughter every now and then.  It was enough to make her smile, even if she did try to hide it from him.  So he had a point.  Even she could see the humor in the situation, even if she didn't really want to.  The quiet, however, seemed to spread once more: a welcome blanket that was as warm and comforting as the springtime.  It had a melodic sort of cadence that resonated with the beat of her heart, and when Evan's clear, soft voice broke through, it seemed as natural as the night.

The song faded away, and Valerie let out the breath that she hadn't realized that she'd been holding.  "What was that?" she finally asked, her voice barely audible.

"Gartan Mother's Lullaby," he told her in the same quiet, sing-song voice.  "It's an old Irish song . . . Guess I should have picked something Spanish."

"No," she said, craning her neck to look up at him.  "It was beautiful."

He laughed softly.  "Should I charge you for the private concert?"

The sound of her own laughter mingled with his, created a melody that shimmered like the sky.  "I would pay for that," she allowed.  "You might have to do a couple more songs, though, to make it worth my while."

"Damn, you're tough, baby," he replied.

"Have to be with someone like you."  Drawing a deep breath, she reached out, grasped the handle bars, and pulled herself upright, immediately shivering as the abrupt loss of Evan's body heat against her back hit her square-on.  "Anyway, do you want to learn how to ride this before we have to go back?"

Evan blinked a few times before a slow grin surfaced on his features.  "Oh?  You're going to teach me?"

She nodded and tossed him the helmet she'd taken off shortly after they'd stopped beside the river.  "Put that on.  If you wreck, you'll crack that thick head of yours open, and then where will we be?"

"Oh, I don't know," Evan drawled.  "I kind of like being the passenger."

The unmistakably lecherous tilt of his lips left no doubt in her mind as to what, exactly, he meant with that comment, and she couldn't quite contain the blush that rose in her cheeks, either, since there was no doubt in either of their minds that she knew damn well what he was talking about, too.  After all, she'd felt it against her backside ever since they'd escaped the arena.  "Pervert," she muttered, thankful that the hazy darkness hid her face from his perusal.

"I've gotta admit, those bumpy roads were the best," he went on outrageously.  "Rubbing my dick between your ass cheeks?"  Letting out a ragged sigh, Evan's smile didn't wane.  "Did you know you clench those cheeks when you hit those bumps?"

"Shut up," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest as she contemplated the likelihood of knocking him off the back of the motorcycle and over the railing into the river.  "I should have known . . ."

Evan grinned, but must have decided to relent because he held up his hands in surrender.  "Sorry, sorry . . . and for the record, you know I can swim, right?"

She snorted again, mostly because of the ease that he'd seemingly read her thoughts.  "Do you want to learn how to ride that or not?"

"Okay," he relented.

Satisfied that he would listen to her, she stepped forward and gave him a quick lesson, but she was almost ready to order him off the vehicle since she was pretty sure that he'd spent more time trying to steal peeks down her shirt or at her ass than he had spent paying attention.  "If you're not interested in hearing this, then —" she began, only to be cut off by the revving of the motor.  Without another word, Evan took off, leaving behind a cloud of dust and a quick squeal of the tires.  He didn't go far.  At the first intersection, he whipped the bike in a neat u-turn and didn't stop until he was back where he had started.

"You know how to ride a motorcycle," she stated flatly when he'd killed the engine and leaned back to cast her a cocky grin.

"Yep," he agreed.

She snorted and crossed her arms over her chest so that she wouldn't give in to the urge to shove him over the railing, anyway.  "Why didn't you tell me that before?"

He laughed.  "Are you kidding?  Did you not hear what I said about my cock being squished between your ass cheeks?"

She opened her mouth to retort but snapped it closed again since she knew well enough that it wouldn't really do any good to grump at him, anyway.  His laughter was infectious, though, and despite her desire to do no such thing, she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips, either.  "And here I thought I could teach you something new," she remarked with a shake of her head.

"I let you explain things," he reminded her.  "You did a helluva job at it, too."

"Don't you patronize me, Roka," she warned, stomping over and shoving at his shoulder until he sat up far enough for her to swing her leg over the back of the motorcycle.  "Fine, then.  You can take me for a ride now."

He turned his head to peer at her out of the corner of his eye.  She shoved his cheek to turn his head back before he could make whatever off-color comment that was forming on his tongue.  His laughter escalated as the engine roared to life once more.  "You win," he said, raising his voice so that she could hear him.  "Anywhere in particular you think we should go?"

Slipping the spare helmet over her head, she smiled.  "Find me something to eat, Roka," she said leaning in as close as she could so that she could speak closer to his ear.  The movement brought her up flush against his back, and despite the leather jacket he wore, she could feel his muscles rippling under his skin.  Her smile widened when she felt the involuntary shiver race up Evan's back.  "Even though it's late—early—something's got to be open, right?  I'm starving."