The Gypsy King (22 page)

A cedar wood table with five legs was at the foot of the large bed. It looked like a traditional Moroccan or perhaps Syrian side table and she marveled at the stunning bone accents inlaid throughout the wood. On the table rested two bottles of wine, two crystal goblets and an iridescent mollusk shell with some ashes from a gold-stemmed pipe. Next to the pipe was a pair of shoes that suddenly were also familiar.

“My shoes!” she exclaimed, reaching for what felt like old friends.

“Yes. Nanosh tried to save as much of you as he could, Veronique, and
I’ve
been saving these for you.”

She put them on and twirled around, her mind racing back to the last party she attended, then to Leone, then to Ahndray, and she found herself sad, but for once, not overwhelmingly hopeless.

“Would you like some wine? It’s from Tuscany, Italy and I have another bottle of Retsina from the Greek Isles. I also have champagne from the Rodell Family estate if you prefer.”

She was stunned to see him looking deeply into her eyes, obviously gauging her reaction. She could sense he meant it as a compliment, like a secret that he was sharing with her, but he said nothing else and she took the opportunity to ask more questions. “Why am I here?”

She felt comfortable and found it difficult to 224

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stay focused on any danger. But, she needed to know what was going on and why he was

meeting with her now.
Why now?
Just when things were starting to get better in her life again. A life of adventure and perhaps some apprehension, yes, but still she was starting to feel alive and happy again. “Why have you decided to speak with me now?” a little more insistence filled her voice.

“Our dogs were able to turn away the police several times over the last few weeks, Veronique.

But they are persistent. I met personally with the constabulary in Lourmarin a few days ago. I know about your fiancé, and your lover, and I’m sorry for the storm you have weathered lately.” He paused as he opened the Retsina and poured her wine into a large, crystal goblet. “However, I have helped you as much as I safely can, but now men are searching aggressively for you and they believe my
kumpania
is hiding you. They will be coming for you now.”

He paused and used a beautiful, cherry wood handled
laguiole
to open the bottle of wine. “They will not understand why you are still here with us if we rescued you months ago. They are

insinuating that we are holding you against your will and they have threatened me personally. Both the local police and Provincial judiciary are involved and they are implicating my entire family in these new developments. They are

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threatening worse things than jail.” He sat at the table and took a long drink of his wine. He lit his pipe and crossed one leg over the other as the aroma of fresh apples and jasmine filled the wagon.

Veronique took the opportunity to light up

another cheroot and steadied herself as she surveyed the situation. No longer intimidated by his manner, he scared her now. She needed to understand exactly how much danger she was in herself. And the last thing she wanted was to bring any sort of danger to the
kumpania
.

As she drank, they continued talking about the local police, their stalwart dedication and how misguided it was, however admirable. They talked about traveling, books, abundant countryside in Lourmarin, unsettled countries surrounding

France and being on the edge of an abyss that looked like war was coming to their idyllic land.

She began to feel the effects of the strong Greek wine. The smoke from his pipe and her cheroot filled her nostrils, making them burn. By the third glass, she removed her shoes, pulled her bare feet underneath her lap and looked him straight in the eyes. He smiled warmly at her and she felt her world suddenly shift and blur.

“I have come to you finally, Veronique, because you have to make a choice,” he said in his velvet voice.

She found herself squirming in her chair, but 226

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unable to enjoy the lust that was beginning to rise in her. He put the wine and pipe down on the table and reached firmly for her. She looked at his nut-brown hands and admired the heavy gold

rings on each finger. She thought they would feel much rougher, but they were surprisingly strong and delicate. A familiar rush to her mound pushed its way through the wine haze surrounding her like morning fog.

He spoke in a tone that reminded her of the dark, black river flowing lazily through their valley. As he caressed her hands, he was gently pulling each of her fingers between his and she could feel the tension seeping from her palm to the ends of her fingertips, then dissipating entirely.

“But there are things you do not know about your past, and your
future
, that you cannot see right here, right now.”

“Don’t talk to me in riddles, please, Raklo,” she implored. “I don’t have a choice about these things anymore. My fiancé took any choices I had away from me when he killed his brother,

Ahndray, the man I loved. He also left me with this on my face.” She pointed to her chin and ran her fingers up to her ear, caressing her wound like a birthmark that must be accepted, but not

necessarily admired.

Raklo reached for her hand and put it to his jaw.

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She rubbed his wound lightly, but with passion and understanding. She could not help but be stunned at the coincidence, and she could tell he sensed her curiosity.

“We will talk about these later,” he replied. “I know you do not understand and that is why you are here tonight. It is my responsibility to the gods of fate to show you enough that you can make your choice, even though you do not know the weight of your decision or the ramifications to all of us.”

She was getting frustrated and her emotions were getting raw from the wine. She replied curtly, “Show me what I need to know, Gypsy King. I’m not afraid. You and your family saved my life. If you need me to do something, anything, for you and your
kumpania
, I will do it. But I don’t understand at all what you are saying.”

He stood up and reached for her hand.

Veronique stood up and he pulled her into him closely, but not too close. He looked into her eyes and she felt herself tremble in his knowing gaze. It was as if he could see her soul just by looking into her eyes! Memories of Diego blowing a kiss over her soul flooded her mind, then even more vivid memories of Isabella saying the same thing came rushing through her woozy head and she smiled.

She couldn’t help herself. The wine was making her a little giddy. She giggled.

He pulled her closer. “Close your eyes,

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Veronique and clear your mind. Picture a clear night sky with warm winds blowing through the woods and the sound of the river rushing through your ears.”

She closed her eyes, swayed a bit, but caught herself quickly, and pictured exactly what he described. As soon as she felt his mouth on hers, her mind split into fragments and the sky and the river were gone. Suddenly she saw her mother sitting at their family table with her head in her hands. She was weeping. Veronique could feel her overwhelming sorrow. Her throat tightened as she watched her in sadness. Hot tears ran down her cheeks as she reached out into the vision toward her suffering mother.

She pulled away quickly from the Gypsy King’s mouth in shock. She squinted at him and tried to comprehend what she had seen and where the

vision had come from.
Did he do that with a kiss?

She gasped in amazement and building

trepidation. “That is a neat parlor trick, Raklo, very interesting.” She reached for her glass and took a gulp, quaffing what remained and tapping it on the table so he understood she needed it refilled. Now!

He complied and she drank more, eagerly.

“What are you doing to me?” she asked with as much sincerity as she could summon, given the circumstances and her hazy head.

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decide, Veronique, and I am here to help you.” He reached for her again.

The wine and the now-cloying heat and heavy aromas in the wagon were making her feel

strange, almost surreal. She felt lost, separated from her body somehow, as if her mind was

floating around by itself. Her heart was pounding and she was lucid enough to know she was feeling strange. Several small voices were echoing in the far reaches of her fuzzy head and she tried concentrating on them instead of her spinning soul.

As Raklo pulled her closer into his inviting chest and arms, she could smell the crisp Retsina on his breath. The voices got louder. She thought she recognized one of them, then was shocked to hear Ahndray’s gentle voice, pleading with her.

“Go with him, Veronique,” she heard Ahndray say in a clear tone that made her jump.

She opened her eyes, shook her head and

looked into the bright pools of blue staring back at her. She was melting in front of his eyes it seemed.

She kissed him again, and this time she let go of her inhibitions and any last ounce of need for control. Colorful visions of her childhood splashed through her mind’s eye. She breathlessly watched her life, as a young girl now, play out in her mind as Raklo ran his tongue across her lips and slid it into her cautious mouth. She swooned, smiled and enjoyed watching the visions. As she watched 230

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herself playing, growing and enjoying her carefree childhood, she kissed him deeply, pulling his tongue into her mouth as an invitation into her other more sweet and succulent openings.

It was Raklo who pulled away this time,

leaving her willing mouth open and wanting.

The visions left as quickly as they had begun.

She opened her eyes and found herself standing in his wagon, feeling somewhat nauseous again and more than a little confused.

“It’s time for you to come with me to a place you have never been, Veronique.”

She stood looking at him, dazed and breathing sharp and fast. He reached for her dress and she watched as it slid off her shoulders easily. She did not move or flinch and the warm rush of heat made her nipples harden and protrude like

brown-sugared raisins in the moonlight. Her flesh shivered and she felt goose bumps all along her legs and arms. She simply closed her eyes and imagined she was back at the river in the woods during happier times. Whatever he needed to do to bring those visions and the feelings that were flooding her, she hoped he would begin again soon!

Raklo laid her down gently on his enormous

bed, undressed himself and joined her. Veronique was already in another world and, with his arms wrapped tightly around and his body pressing firmly against her, his next kiss had her soaring 231

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again.

Raklo’s hands felt like silk as he caressed and stroked her skin from her forehead to the tips of her fingers to the crevice in her belly, to her hips, to her knees, to her ankles, to her toes. His touch felt like the wind. She trembled and shook

uncontrollably as if she were in a storm of pleasure and emotion. When he moved his mouth to her breasts, she shuddered and grabbed his thick hair, then pushed him hard into her nipples, moving them angrily over his teeth as visions flashed and danced in her head.

She could feel him growing with excitement, pulsing and hugging her thigh. She wrapped her hand around him and massaged him eagerly. She pulled at him hungrily and was pleased to find his bulbous head oozing a few drops of his own

slippery juice. Soon she was sliding her hand easily up and down his shaft while his hands and tongue explored her warm, trembling body.

The images were coming more slowly now as

his mouth danced over her breasts and down to her tummy. She reached for his face, yearning for more of his lips and mouth. She was enjoying the flashes of her past and she was beginning to understand what he was doing to her and her mind. And there was no doubt what he was doing to her body as she squirmed and clenched her legs together, feeling a surge of wetness burst forth down her thighs as her excitement began to build.

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Raklo lifted her up to a sitting position and pulled her onto his lap. His rigid member rested against her moist lips, splitting them in two, and the head of his cock pressed into her belly button.

She wrapped her legs around him and they kissed deeply again. She smiled to herself as she saw the last years of her school days flying by. She began to get a little anxious as she realized that the more passion building up inside her, the faster the images were parading through her mind. Soon she would be seeing memories she did not want to see and she pulled away from his lips.

He buried his head against her neck and moved himself firmly against her wet lips, separating them, sending jolts of pleasure throughout her whole body as his slick shaft pressed into her clit.

She suddenly wanted this man inside her, and she pushed back against him. She began lifting her hips up in the air so she could slide down on him.

She found herself giddy at the anticipation of the visions she would suddenly enjoy once she had him deep up inside of her. She reached and

guided him desperately towards her velvet

entrance.

Raklo pulled her hips back down onto him

before she was successful and grabbed both of her hands. “Don’t be afraid, Veronique. I’m right here with you.” He pushed his body away from hers slightly, just far enough away from him that he could bend at his waist. He smiled as he dropped 233

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his mouth toward her, licking and suckling her tummy, then further down to her sizzling sex. He held on to her wrists and gently let her fall back until she was resting comfortably on his knees.

Now she was completely available to his hungry mouth and tongue.

He started slowly, but Veronique didn’t need much more and within seconds, her heart was pounding in her ears and she was lost in the heat of his tongue-licking massage. She gripped his wrists and hands tightly, squeezing them as he built up a rhythm with his tongue that they both began dancing to. She felt her orgasm climbing up inside her. Her mind was suddenly clear, and all she could hear were her shallow breaths getting louder and faster.