Chapter 144: Diogo

Taran laughs and reaches for her clothes. She holds the torn pants up and gives me a mock frown. She doesn't bother actually speaking though, since we both know I live to get her naked as fast as humanly possible, which usually ends in the sacrifice of her wardrobe.
I drag my pants on as Taran forgoes hers in favour of her shirt, buttoning it up the front. When we're both half-dressed we walk to the baby's room together. By the time we get there he's throwing a fit bigger than his little lungs have the capacity for, his face screwed up and red, his fists waving in front of him, his blanket kicked away.
Taran picks him up and starts cooing and rocking him, while pulling a breast out of the half-buttoned shirt for him. As she sits in the rocking chair I had made for her, he latches on and starts sucking. Her eyes are on the top of his head and her hair falls around her face. Still, I can tell from the pink suffusing her cheeks that she's thinking about what I did to her in the kitchen and how much she enjoyed it. Poor girl, she's probably trying to reconcile her feelings toward both me and our son taking from the same source. Too bad, she'll just have to get used to the idea, because I'll definitely be doing it again.
I decide not to tease her about it, instead bringing up another subject entirely. "Heard from Grayson you plan on visiting Old Tucson tomorrow."
Her head snaps up and she looks at me in surprise. I'm not sure why she wouldn't realize her bodyguard would tell me everything about her, especially something as important as her leaving the city. She chews on her lip, thinking about how she plans on responding. The trip to visit refugees and check on the wall extension project is near and dear to her heart, but she also knows exactly how I feel about her leaving the safety of Sanctuary.
I decide to let her off the hook. She would have told me eventually, maybe over supper tonight. She was probably carefully planning out her arguments and then deciding on counter arguments if and when I refused to allow her to go. "I will be accompanying you instead of Grayson," I tell her.
She looks both shocked and relieved, then her gaze turns shrewd as she tries to figure out my angle. "Why?" she demands with a frown. We both know she doesn't mean, why am I going instead of Grayson, but why am I allowing her to go at all.
I think over my answer and then say, "You are the wife of the Warlord. You stand for the people. It was one of the reasons I wanted you for my wife, you are more diplomatic and soft-hearted. You can reach the citizens in a way that I can't."
She smiles with humour. "So glad I can be of service, Commander."
"You know that I also care for you more than is reasonable for a man in my position."
She rolls her eyes. "You don't even know the meaning of the word reasonable."
I chuckle. I do know the word, but not when it comes to her. My preferences for my wife are so far from reasonable that I spend an inordinate amount of time daily arguing with both her and myself on the correct course of action. Chaining her to the apartment, wrapping her in safety equipment and stationing a dozen personal bodyguards on her detail is, apparently, not reasonable. Although, perhaps if I'd done all of that months ago, she would learn to become less prone to being kidnapped.
"You were saying something about how amazing I am with people?" she reminds me, arching a brow.
"Yes, I believe it will be good for you to be seen in Old Tucson. You can forge connections over there, so once the refugees are integrated within our walls they will have a kind face and soft voice to rally around. It doesn't hurt that you look like your sister and they damn near think she's some kind of saviour angel."
She grins at me. "The tone of your voice suggest you don't agree."
"The woman is difficult," I grunt.
She laughs. "You used to think I was difficult."
"You're my wife and I love you, there's a difference."
"So, love my sister then," she rebutts.
I cross my arms and shake my head at her. She knows that's not going to happen. My heart is made of stone. Only two people in this world have cracked it, Taran and Blaze. The very idea of caring for her sister is laughable. The only reason I might go to any lengths to ensure Skye's survival is I know how devastated Taran would be if anything happened to her troublemaker of a sister.
"You will be expected to stay by my side the entire time we are outside the gates of Sanctuary," I tell her, ignoring her last comment. "You will not wander off, you will not go anywhere near the front lines, you will not speak with any of the soldiers working the perimeter of Old Tucson, and you will follow every command I give."
Her eyes follow the bulge of my arms as I clench my fists imagining all the things that could happen to her outside of Sanctuary. The very thought gives me worse heartburn than her cooking and makes me want to change my mind. I pile on several more rules before I'm satisfied my sometimes willful wife won't do anything I don't approve of.
The humour falls from her face and she asks quietly, "Is it so bad over there?"
"Yes, very." I watch her carefully, my beloved wife, the woman who I would gladly follow into death. I want to sugarcoat this for her, but there's no point. She'll see it with her own eyes tomorrow. "Not as bad as some refugee camps I've seen, but not good. They've created a front line with a trench where soldiers work to stave off the worst of the Primitive attacks. Men fall daily out there. Your sister fights as well, shadowing her man while he's stationed on the line."
"I didn't know Skye was actually fighting on the front lines!" she exclaims, her voice a mixture of horror and admiration for her tough older sister. I tend to agree with her, it's rare that's I've seen a woman as determined as Skye, as filled with passion and integrity. Except for my wife. Taran may not be much of a conventional fighter, but she fights for what she believes in. She spent years climbing the wall in what she believed was a fight for the justice of humankind.
"Some of the Primitives make it through the lines and into the ruins of the old city, picking off refugees as they go. Food and clean water are scarce, as is medical supplies and anything resembling societal structure. It's a mess out there. You need to be prepared to see some things you're not going to like."
She nods thoughtfully and then looks down as she moves Blaze from one breast to the other, helping him latch. "I knew it would be bad," she murmurs. "I guess I didn't realize how bad. This is probably why Bishop wanted to make a special trip out there."
"Indeed," I agree with her. "He cleared it with me days ago. He has supplies, food and blankets he wants to deliver."
"Emery too," Taran adds. "She wants to see the wall progress since she'll be responsible for overseeing food production on that side of the city once construction is complete. Has she talked to you about it? She has all kinds of wonderful ideas."
I have my doubts that all or any will be realistic but I keep my comments to myself. I like the way Taran and her friends are coming together to improve Sanctuary. It frees me to focus more on security, infrastructure and law and order.
"She's mentioned that she has several ideas she wants to run by me. I've told her to schedule a meeting."
Taran frowns. "Schedule a meeting with who? I don't think you've ever mentioned having a secretary."
I grin at her, flashing my teeth. "And that's how I get out of most meetings."
We laugh together, and for perhaps the first time in my life I feel perfectly content.