Star People Legacy by Smith, T.L. (feel good books to read .txt) 📕

“Oh, my love.” He reached up and brushed my cheek. “It’s all going to be fine.” I didn’t realize I’d started to cry. He pulled me back into his arms. “We’ll figure this all out.”

CHAPTER

8

As tired as I was after our hot bath, I had to look up the things my mother had said. Snuggled up in bed, we browsed for information on Star People, Maxa’xak and the Yahi. Most of the info was vague conjecture, research gathered by anthropologists, which meant it was only what the tribal people wanted to tell them and numerous fictions masquerading as facts about our many different cultures.

Some stories were hilarious to read, but many struck home in sad ways. Stories of the trials the Native Americans struggled through after America was ‘discovered’ by the white men. The Yahi story though, that was the most curious. I read a part of it out loud to Casey.

“They called him the last wild Indians.”

“They haven’t met your brothers…ouch” Casey grabbed my elbow. “Was he part of your secret tribe? He couldn’t tell anyone his name either.”

“I wouldn’t think so.” I went to the last known picture of him. “My mother said we failed them and from the reports, their people were completely erased in the early twentieth century. As the lone survivor, he lived out the rest of his life with no one ever knowing his name. Like my family, he wasn’t allowed to tell it, though his rules were slightly different.”

“Either way, it has to be a lonely existence.”

Cocooned in his arms and blankets, that part of me felt less painful. Though I still felt like Beth, two people outside my family knew my Spirit name. Somehow it felt like I’d been freed from some prison. “It was.”

I turned to the next stories, scanning them for clues.

“Din’ah.” Casey whispered it in my ear, making me shiver. “Let’s put this away for tonight. You’re barely awake.”

The same page on Maxa’xak myths faded as my computer pad started to time out on me. “You’re right. I can’t read anymore.” I tapped off, sliding it onto the side table and rolling over to wrap my arms around him. “I have so much to ask my mother when she gets here.”

“Well, that’s not going to be for a few days.” Casey leaned over me, brushing my hair back. “I know things are crazy right now, but I really missed you.”

His body pressed down against me and I tightened my arms. “I missed you too and I’m sorry how I left things.”

“We both have our careers to consider, but I never doubted your feelings. I knew you loved me, so I was willing to fight it out with you.” He kissed me. “Now that we’ve jumped one hurdle, we can figure the rest of it out, together.”

“I can’t even begin to tell you… oh, hell.” I tightened my arms around his neck. “Come here!” I pulled his head down and kissed him, getting a rumble of something between a laugh and groan as I wrapped my leg over him.

Four to five days apart always left a challenge to see how fast we could get home and out of our clothes. This time had been hampered by all the weird shit, but right now we both pushed it far out of our heads.

But it wasn’t just time apart that made this reunion different. Our relationship had always run hot, but part of me held him at an arms distance. Telling him my Spirit name removed that barrier, and he felt it too. His usual slow seduction was tossed aside for a wild passion I hadn’t felt since our very first time together.

We were partners for a good six months, going out on patrols, spending our days and nights together, but always strictly professional. It hadn’t escaped my attention that Casey was a handsome man, by all my standards. Those deep brown eyes and long lashes had a way of distracting me. But I was a Marine and he was Border Patrol, and we had a job to do.

Then one day I slipped on a rock while checking out one of the relief stations. I had on combat boots, but the ankle twisted up anyway. I rode out the rest of the day and wrapped it up before going to sleep. Somewhere in the middle of the night I woke up screaming in pain, my whole leg cramped up.

Casey heard me and came into my room. I tried to make him go away, but my leg was in visible spasms. He disappeared for a minute and returned with his overnight kit. I was beyond protesting as he took my leg and started to massage some ointment onto it. It was cold and hot at the same time and smelled of eucalyptus. In a few minutes my leg started to feel better.

He removed the wrap from my ankle, poking around and proclaiming nothing seemed damaged, just bruised. Dehydration was the probable cause for the cramping. He made me drink down a bottle of fortified water, while he continued to gently rub my leg.

I watched him, watching me, through those luscious lashes. Did his hand linger just a bit too long? Did I lean into his touch? Whoever made that first move, some switch got flipped and there was no stopping either of us.

Getting through the rest of our patrol was almost impossible. We didn’t want to leave the trailer, but had a job to do before we could return to base. When we did, we skipped the club, exchanging whispers in the parking lot on what to do next. I met him at his apartment. By the end of the month I’d moved in, unofficially.

Because we worked together, we couldn’t be discovered or we’d be broken up as patrol partners, but then by the end of the year he got promoted. Our first week apart nearly killed me. I had