Page 84 of Kiss of Wrath

“The Lucipire threat should be over within a week. As for Roger, I am not sure. One thing at a time. Hopefully.” He laughed when his attention was caught by the children playing leapfrog in the shallow water. Ben had stood suddenly when Larry was leaping and caused Larry to be riding his shoulders until the two of them fell over and under the water.

“You don’t seem to have as much trouble anymore . . . you know, being around children.”

“It is still difficult. The enjoyment of being with your children does not wipe out the pain of losing my own.” He thought about what he had said, and it was true. “My grief is no less for Kata and Jomar, but it is tempered somewhat.”

“Do you mind talking about them? What were they like?”

He lifted his elbows and eased back onto the blanket, folding his arms under his head. He did not discuss his dead children. Never. Not even with his brothers. Still, he found himself saying, “A joy, they were. Kata, the older at six years, was a bossy little miss. Fearless, a born leader. Always up to some mischief. Jomar, a year younger, adored his sister and followed her about like a playful puppy. More serious than Kata, Jomar did not act impulsively. He thought things out, remarkable for one so young.” He paused, finding that instead of feeling pain at speaking of his children, there was a relief of sorts. Turning on his side to face Miranda, he said, “Kata was blonde like Linda. Jomar had black hair, but he resembled Larry in some ways, especially the way Larry is always tugging up his sagging braies—I mean, pants—having no buttocks to speak of, to hold them in place.”

“Oh, Mordr!” Miranda had tears in her eyes as she listened to hm.

“I never had a chance to give them the gifts I had brought from my journey. A rainbow of different colored ribands for Kata and a small wooden sword for Jomar. I threw them into the flames of their funeral pyres.”

“Being a close acquaintance of an archangel, did you ever ask about your children? I mean, if it were me, I would want to know if they are all right.”

Mordr nodded. “Michael told me at our first meeting that Kata and Jomar are in a safe and happy place.”

“That should be some comfort to you.”

“It is, except I cannot rid my mind of the way I saw them last. And when I see their ravaged bodies, a rage like no other rises in me and . . .” He let his words trail off, and he shrugged. “I am what I am. I am what I became.”

“I could help you.”

“What? No! I do not want or need your sympathy.”

“That’s not what I’m offering. Oh, of course I sympathize, but what I had in mind was more professional help. Don’t pooh-pooh psychology and the good it can do. You would be surprised at how much help we psychologists can be to grieving people.”

“Pooh-pooh? Me?” He laughed, and in a deliberate ploy to change the subject, leaned over her and asked, “Do you psychoanalyze your lovers when you take them to your bed? Do you offer to ‘cure’ them?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk!” she said. “The only thing I needed to cure them of is a bad case of sexual need.”

“I have sexual needs.”

“I’ll bet you do. Actually, there haven’t been very many lovers in my life and hardly any ever since I got the kids. Believe me, an Internet profile showing five children does not garner a lot of hits.”

“You tried Internet dating?”

“No. I’m just using it as an example. Be honest, would you want to hook up with a woman responsible for five kids?”

“Depends on what you mean by hooking up. If you mean one night of hot sex, or two, or even five, that would be fine . . . in fact, perfect. A lifetime commitment, that would be another thing.”

”See. Single mothers face daunting battles in the dating jungles. Single mothers with two or three kids, the jungle gets thicker and harder to traverse. Single mother with five kids, even a machete wouldn’t get her past the first date.”

He had to smile at her choice of words. “You missay me, Miranda. I did not mean that I personally would be daunted by a woman with children, not if I wanted that woman. Nay, I referred to the fact that vangels are forbidden love or sex relationships. In fact, we have been made sterile to ensure our compliance, except for Ivak, who is the exception to just about everything in the world. You would know what I mean if you ever met the handsome knave. Leastways, women consider him handsome. Never did he have trouble attracting anything with breasts, like bees to a honey pot. He is a prison chaplain, married, with a soon-to-be born baby, and Mike is as outraged with him as an angel with a thorn up its . . . wing. We are all suffering because of Ivak’s missteps in the sexual arena.”

She blinked several times at his rambling discourse. He was becoming a regular blathering machine. Then she asked, “Sterile? Do you mean impotent? I already told you—”

He put his fingertips over her lips. “Can you doubt my . . . uh, potency?” He glanced downward toward the tenting in his swimming shorts.

Her blush said it all. No more questions about could he or couldn’t he. The question was: Would he? He hoped so. Provided Mike didn’t catch on to his intentions beforehand.

“Wanting you has become a pounding need in my body. I was dead to feeling, but now, like a hibernating bear, you are provoking me to wake up. You are making me crazy. You know that, don’t you?”

Normally, she would berate him for using the word crazy. Apparently it was not a proper word for folks in her mind-healing profession. Instead, she pondered his words and said, “I know what you mean. All you have to do is give me one of your smoldering looks, and you turn me on so much you make my knees sweat.”

A slow, lazy grin emerged on his lips as comprehension sunk in. “I smolder? That settles it then. We must do something about your sweaty knees.”

The children came up then, cutting off any further conversation. Or carnal activity. They were hungry. Again.