Uncivilized by Sawyer Bennett
"You might need to give him some time though. Some space. He's very angry with you for taking him away from the Caraicans. His plan is still to return."
Randall's smile fades a little. "I understand. I won't pressure him."
"That would be good. He can be a very stubborn man," I say with a smile.
"Tonight will be very casual. I'm having my niece and nephew over. They're close to Zach's age, and I figured it would be nice for him to have some friends he can pal around with."
"Sounds lovely," I tell him. "Now, I think I'm going to take a shower, if you don't mind, and then we'll just see you for dinner at seven."
"Thank you, Dr. Reed," Randall says, his voice thick with emotion. "For bringing my boy home."
"You're welcome," I tell him, but honestly, he's wrong to think that Zach has come home.
Chapter 13
Zach
A knock sounds softly on a side door in my room that I had noticed earlier but didn't pay any mind. I open it hesitantly and see Moira standing there. We're due to go down to dinner in about fifteen minutes. I'm not surprised to see her, but I am surprised she's at this side door, not understanding where she came from.
"Looks like our rooms connect," Moira says by way of explanation and points back into the bedroom I can now see over her shoulder.
"Interesting," I say out loud, even as my thoughts turn toward the possibility of sneaking into her room tonight.
Fuck, I'm going crazy with wanting this woman, and not exactly even sure if I'd be welcomed into her body again. I was so confused and angry over her denial of me that I wanted nothing to do with her.
That lasted all of about five minutes.
Then it was back to this insane, unmitigated craving I have for her, and I had to argue with myself for another three days that it was foolish to even pursue anything further. We are too different. I can't afford to lose control. She wants things of me I can't give.
I still have no more clarity on the issue.
Moira walks past me into my room. I see she's put on a white skirt that hugs her hips and stops just above her knees. She paired it with a light blue, sleeveless top so I can see the hint of freckles on her shoulders. As is normally her custom, her hair is brilliantly long and loose and I'm dying to run my fingers through it.
Preferably with her bent over before me and fucking her from behind.
But no, that's not quite true. Not preferably. The minute Moira told me the other day she wanted to take me in her mouth, I've been obsessing about that. I immediately shut that notion down because I didn't think I would be able to handle it and not lose control with her. But the prospect of sinking my fingers into her hair, holding her face still while I pumped in and out of her mouth... yeah, okay. Getting an erection and need to think of something else.
"How old are you, Moira?" I ask her, as it's something I've been curious about.
She walks over to my bed and sits down on the edge. Laughing lightly, she says, "Cultural lesson number one when it comes to women... never ask them their age."
I can't help the smile that pops back at her. "Oh, yeah. Why is that?"
"Because modern women are sensitive to aging. A direct question is apparently interpreted to mean, 'You look old and haggard. Maybe you should consider Botox.'"
"What's Botox?" I ask in confusion.
Moira giggles and shakes her head with laughing eyes. "It's something a woman does to make herself look young and pretty. But to answer your question, I'm twenty-eight."
"Older than me by three years," I muse out loud.
"You missed a prime opportunity," she teases as she stands from the bed. "You should have said, 'Moira, you don't look a day over twenty-one. You are so youthful and beautiful, you'll never need Botox.'"
I can't help but smirk at her. "You don't need me to tell you that. You know that already."
Coming to stand before me, Moira pats my forearm. "See, that's just it, Zach. Women are insecure creatures at times. We absolutely need to hear that."
"Not you," I scoff. "You are the most confident woman I've ever known."
"Your experience is with Caraican women," she points out. "Of course, I'm the most confident woman you've ever known."
"I've met plenty of other women over the last few weeks. Observed even more. Trust me; no one holds a candle to you in that respect."
"But yet it's a turn off for you," she says quietly, and her eyes cast downward.
I blink at her in surprise, not just by her words, but by the way she drops her gaze. So not the confident Moira I know. "It's not a turn off."
"No?" she asks dubiously but with a hint of challenge as she raises her face upward. "You haven't spoken to me in several days. You don't want me unless you can put me on bended knee. I'm not Tukaba, and I never will be."
Reaching out, I take a lock of her silky hair in my hand, absently rubbing the softness between my fingers. I study it carefully, watching the way the light dances on it. When I raise my eyes to her, I say, "Don't ever think I don't want you, Moira. I'm just not sure I can have you and not lose myself along the way."
"Zach... I don't want you to lose yourself. And I don't ever want you to be anyone other than your true self. Please don't think that."
I release her hair and step back. "I know. But I also know that you will never be the woman that is going to bend to me completely. If you don't bend, then my existence is wrong. I don't know any other way."
"That's not true," Moira says quickly and reaches out to take my hand. Her fingers lace in between mine. "You keep your ways, Zach. But you can learn new ways too, if you want. That's how you should treat everything in life."
I'm silent for a moment as I look at our fingers intertwined. Her touch is warm and caring, and it gives me a measure of peace. "I don't want to hurt you," I tell her honestly. "I always feel like I'm getting ready to lose control when I'm with you. I want to possess you so thoroughly, and I'm afraid I might hurt you in the process."
"But you haven't yet," she assures me.
"Because I was in control the entire time, Moira. If I give that up, who will protect you from me?"
Raising our joined hands up, Moira kisses my knuckles so sweetly. "You won't hurt me. I trust you. But let's talk about this after dinner... later tonight. They're expecting us now."
I nod at her, and she releases my hand. Heading toward my door that opens to the hallway, Moira looks back at me. "And Zach... I don't think Randall should know about us. I mean, about how close we've come... in an intimate way."
"I prefer him not know anything about me at all, so you don't have to worry about me sharing."
"It's just... what I did... having sex with you. It's inappropriate from a standpoint of where Randall is coming from. He wouldn't understand."
I smile at her. "Our secret isn't going anywhere. So don't worry."
She breathes out a sigh of relief and smiles. "Thank you."
When we reach the bottom of the stairs, Sam is waiting for us. "Everyone is in the library if you'd like to join them for a pre-dinner drink."
I give the man a nod and motion for Moira to precede me. I follow her in, steeling myself against the futility of this evening. I don't want to know this Randall Cannon. I want to go home... back to Brazil, and back to my people.
Except, for the first time since I've thought of home, I'll admit that the thought of leaving Moira causes a tightness to form in my chest. While I have no clue where our relationship is headed, I'm most certain I'm not ready to be parted from her yet.
Moira enters into a set of open double doors and when I follow, I see Randall standing there with a man and a woman that look roughly my age. Both of them are tall and have golden blond hair. The man wears his in a similar hair length to mine, and the woman's hair is long but wrapped up in a knot at the back of her head. She's quite beautiful actually, with wide, blue eyes and delicate features.
"Ah, there you are," Randall booms and, with a beckoning arm, he says, "Come in. Come i
I follow Moira in, keeping slightly behind her. She smiles at the man and woman and holds her hand out to each in turn for them to shake.
"Hi. I'm Moira," she says. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
She then steps aside, so I can shake their hands. Clint steps forward and gives my hand a mighty pump. With a dazzling, white smile, he says, "It's so good to meet you, Zach. Uncle Randall has told us all about you. We're going to have so much fun together this summer."
I don't know what to say to that because Moira said we were leaving in two days, so I just give him a halfhearted smile and turn to the woman.
I hold my hand out to her, but she steps forward and wraps her bare arms around my neck, pulling her body in flush against mine. She gives me a tight hug, pressing her pelvis against mine, which stuns me. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Zach."
She releases me slowly and looks at me intently. "My, my... Uncle Randall... you didn't tell me how gorgeous Zach is. Such secrets."
"Honestly, Cara... give it a rest," Clint says.
Unsure of what to say, I go ahead and let the first thing that comes to mind out of my mouth. "What are these terms... niece, nephew, uncle?"
Randall gives a bark of a laugh and claps me on the shoulder. "My younger brother, Stanley Cannon, is Cara and Clint's father. So I'm called their uncle and they are called my niece and nephew."
"They're titles," Moira supplies, "to denote blood relations."
I nod my head with understanding. "Well, it's nice to meet you." I cut my gaze to Clint, who looks as happy as a puppy to have me there, and then over to Cara, who looks like she's undressing me with her eyes.
A quick glance over at Moira, and I see she hasn't failed to notice Cara's look. She's staring at her as if she wants to pull her hair out, and I smile internally. Now Moira understands perhaps what I was feeling when that guy Michael put his hands on her. Maybe I'll get to see two women fighting over me... although I wonder if I could get them to agree to do it naked. No clue why, but that idea appeals to me immensely.
"What would you like to drink?" Randall asks. "I've got a variety of wines and beer. Maybe some bourbon?"
"I'll pour," Clint says, walking over to a wooden bar filled with various bottles and glasses. "Cara... you want a glass of bourbon, right? And a vodka tonic for Uncle Randall. What about you, Moira?"
"I'll have a glass of white wine... I don't care what type."
Clint nods as he starts pouring liquids into various sized glasses. "What about you, Zach?"
"I'll try the bourbon too," I tell him, having no clue what that means.
I steal a quick glance at Moira and she gives me an encouraging smile, then leans in toward me. "I strongly suggest you only have one. It can sneak up on you."
I lean back toward her. "I need the fortitude to get through tonight."
She snickers at me, and I love that we are back to where we can joke with each other.
After Clint gets all the drinks poured, he hands them out to each of us. I take a sniff of the bourbon, and the scent is pleasing. Woodsy, smoky... slightly sweet.
"I'd like to make a toast," Randall says, "to welcome Zach home. I'm so happy to have him back where he belongs."
Cara and Clint call out, "Here, here," but Moira doesn't say a word. She knows I'm not happy with those words just uttered.
Everyone takes a sip of their drink, except me. I look directly at Randall. "I'm sorry, Randall. But this isn't my home and it never will be."
The warm smile slides off Randall's face, and he takes a step toward me. His eyes are sad. "I'm sorry, Zach. That was insensitive of me. I know you must be very angry with me right now, but I'm hoping you will forgive me and accept my friendship. I really only wanted to make sure you were okay and give you an opportunity to come here. If you don't want to stay, I'll arrange for you to return whenever you want. Until then, I hope you will let me share my memories of your parents with you, and you will at least have a good experience while you are here."
Man, that was good. So good in fact, I actually find myself warming up to the old man. I nod at him and make an attempt at a smile, but before I can say anything to him, Cara steps up to my side and loops her arm through mine. "Oh, poo. Zach is going to have such a fabulous time here that he's never going to want to leave. I'm going to make sure of it."
Cara then leans in and presses her body into my side. She's soft and she smells good, but I'd rather have Moira standing this close to me. Cara is beautiful and has a stunning body from what I can see, but she doesn't overwhelm me the way Moira does.
Nothing has ever overwhelmed me the way Moira does.
"Let's head in to dinner, shall we?" Randall says as he offers his arm to Moira. "Zach, you can escort Cara in, and I'll take the lovely Dr. Reed."
My hackles raise slightly to see Moira loop her arm through Randall's, but he does nothing more than give her a kindly pat on the hand. However, my gaze cuts over to Clint, who is walking in just behind, and his eyes are pinned on Moira's ass.
It makes me want to kill the motherfucker, but I know Moira wouldn't take kindly to it.
Cara leads me into a large dining room with a table that seats twenty-four by my quick count. Leading me to a chair near the end, she releases her hold on me. She stands there, staring at me, and I wonder what I'm supposed to do.
Shrugging my shoulders, I pull my chair out and sit down, then watch as Randall escorts Moira to the chair opposite of me, and pulls it out for her to sit in. Okay... so that's a custom I didn't know about. I look back up at Cara, but she's already pulling her own chair out to sit down beside me.
"In polite circles, Zach," Cara tells me primly, "a gentleman should pull out a chair for a lady."
Moira puts her hand over her mouth to hide a smile, and I can't help but say, "I've lived in a savage world for a long time, Miss Cannon. I don't belong in polite circles."
Randall guffaws over that and takes the seat at the very end, and just to my right, while Clint sits down next to Moira.
Immediately, servers come in and start placing plates with silver, domed lids over them before each of us. Once everyone has one, they all lift the lids in one coordinated move. I look down at my plate, not recognizing a damn thing.
"We're having roasted duck tonight with asparagus and fingerling potatoes," Randall says beside me and, as I look up at him, he must have seen the lack of recognition on my face. "But if you don't like it, I'm sure we can whip up something for you."
"I'm sure it's fine," I tell him because I'll eat anything. "It sure looks better than spider monkey."
Moira laughs, and Cara makes a choking sound. "You eat spider monkey?" she asks with disgust.
"And howler monkey," I tell her with a grin. "As well as snake, alligator, and grub worms."
She gasps and wrinkles her nose. "It sounds awful."
"It's actually pretty good," Moira says across the table, giving me a warm smile. "At least the alligator and monkey I tried were. I would have liked to have tried the snake... particularly the one Zach killed just before it was getting ready to take a nip at my ankle."
I laugh at the picture and nod. "That would have made you a mighty fine meal," I tell her, returning her smile, which is private between the two of us.
"Well, thank goodness for our creature comforts here," Cara says.
"Zach... what's been the hardest thing you've had to acclimate to here?" Clint asks curiously, as I start to cut into the duck. I place a bite in my mouth, and it's fucking delicious.
After I swallow, I tell him, "I miss the simplicity of my life back in Caraica."
"How so?" Randall asks.
"Well, everything here is about rules. You live in the land of the free, but you are governed by so many rules that it's hard to keep track of sometimes. For example, if I want to cross the street, I have to wait for the light to turn green. In Amazonia, I go where I want, when I want, without anyone telling me
"Ah, but that rule about the green light is in place for your safety," Cara points out.
"Agreed," I tell her. "And I understand that well, but it's a product of having too many people and too much technology. Your life here is actually stunted to some degree because of that."
"You'll get used to it," Cara says dismissively.
I take another bite of my food, but then Moira pipes up. "I think what Zach is really saying, is that in Amazonia, he grew up with absolute freedom. He didn't have rules and boundaries to shape him, but led his life the way he wanted. When someone is given that amazing opportunity, I think the potential to become whatever you want is endless. Sometimes, simple is better."
I look across the table at Moira and am humbled at the way that she gets me. I first thought she would try to change me into something I'm not capable of but, instead, she celebrates my diversity from this life.
She appreciates it.
I give her a smile of thanks and return to my dinner.
The rest of the meal, I'm happy to let Cara and Clint do most of the talking. Randall has taken a backseat, refusing to overwhelm me, and I just listen to Cara prattle on about her latest shopping expedition, and Clint talk about some new sports car he just purchased. I get the feeling these two don't do much but spend their money.
"Oh, I have an idea," Cara says with a wide smile. "Clint and I will take Zach out on the boat tomorrow. It will be so much fun."
"Moira can come too, right?" I ask because I get the feeling that she was deliberately not invited.
"Absolutely," Clint says, shooting Moira a weird smile that sets me on edge. I notice Cara looks put out.
"Not tomorrow," Randall says. "I want to spend some time with Zach. He's only committed to two days here, and I want to be able to talk to him about his parents. I want to take him over to the house he lived in as a boy. But if he wants to stay, I think that sounds like a fine idea."
I turn my head in surprise to Randall. "My parents lived near here?"
Randall nods with a smile. "I actually bought their house when they went missing. It went into foreclosure, and I always hoped they'd come back. When I found out that you were alive, I went ahead and transferred the deed into your name. It belongs to you now, Zach."
I swallow hard, emotion overwhelming me. I've been remembering bits and pieces of that little house, but I never thought I'd get to see it again. Putting my utensils down, I wipe my mouth with my napkin. All so very civilized.