Cy pulled up outside the small suburban house
and left the car engine running. Rooting in his jeans pocket he
pulled out a scrap of paper and checked the name and address
written on it. Ducking down he checked the number on the side of
the house through the windscreen.
Yup, number seventeen. It was hard to spot
half-hidden behind the illuminated snowman but it was definitely
the right house.
Cy sat back in the drivers seat, his tattooed
hand rested on the steering wheel, and let the engine idle as he
looked at the place. Classic suburbia. Beige house, white picket
fence, sensible sedan parked in the drive. No doubt owned by Mr.
and Mrs. Average with two point four kids. Kids who'd be hyped up
on the Christmas spirit already if the bright decorations in the
garden and on the front of the house were any indication.
Cy sighed as he cut the engine and unfolded
himself from the sleek sports car. It was his luxury, his little
gift to himself and the only thing he bothered to spend money on.
Why bother on anything else? His apartment he spent as little time
in as possible and the club provided a uniform so he didn't need to
bother with clothes. Okay, so maybe the sheer t-shirt was
stretching 'clothing' a little bit. He flicked the central locking
on and strode up the path towards the house. Better get this over
with and thrill Mrs. Average who'd won a date with the bad boy he
was supposed to be.
He knocked on the porch door, looking down
and noticing the three sets of wellington boots set in a row just
inside the screen to dry. A adult pair, female sized by the looks
of them and two smaller pairs, one tiny pair in pink and a slightly
larger pair with a cartoon hero emblazoned on the side.
Longing filled him. Family. Home. All the
things he wanted but couldn't have.
*
"Crap, crap, crap. He can't be here
already!"
Teresa raced around her tiny bedroom in
search of her best strappy sandals, stubbed her toes in passing on
the leg of the bed and erupted into more swearing. Joanie's voice
reading a story in the next room grew louder, a subtle reminder to
keep her voice down as little ears heard all and often repeated
choice phrases at the most inopportune moments.
Teresa swallowed her cursing and dropped to
her knees to search under the bed for her shoes. With a crow of
triumph her fingers closed around the familiar straps and she
pulled them from their hiding place.
"Okay, mommy's going now," she called out,
hopping from one foot to the other as she crammed her feet into the
shoes. They'd be killing her within the hour but she couldn't
afford to get new ones, not with James needing new school shoes and
Molly shooting up like a bean.
"You sure I look okay?" Teresa's face must
have mirrored her concern because Joanie's eyebrow hiked upwards in
an expression Teresa knew well.
"Honey, you look fantastic. Stop fiddling,"
she admonished as Teresa fussed with the neckline of the dress.
Like her shoes it was a couple of years old, from before her
ill-fated marriage, and she'd put on a couple of pounds since then.
So it was a little more...snug around the bust than it used to be.
Luckily it was a stretch velour so it was forgiving.
Maybe...hopefully.
"You look like a princess mommy." Two sets of
wide eyes regarded her above duvets in respective pink and blue and
Teresa's heart melted.
"Thank you sweetie. You be good for auntie
Joan, okay? And go to sleep or Santa won't come." She warned as she
swept into the small bedroom and kissed two freshly scrubbed
cheeks, collecting hugs which smelt of baby powder, toothpaste and
sleepy child.
Joan smiled as she hesitated a moment,
unwilling to leave her children even for a date with the hottest
man she'd ever seen. Then the doorbell chimed again, somewhat
impatiently, as though the man outside knew somehow he was being
ignored in favour of two small children. Teresa didn't think that
would impress him any. Not looking the way he did, he was probably
puffed up on his own looks and not impressed with having to take a
middle-aged mother out on a date.
"Go..." Joan mouthed and carried on reading
from the book in her hands. It was a book of fairy tales, one
Teresa knew by heart, but Joanie was ad-libbing. So far the
princess had decided to rescue herself and was hacking her way out
of a forest after facing a dragon. For some reason the story also
included a rapier wielding hedgehog and a toad with the hiccups,
all of which Joan was providing voices for.
Teresa shook her head with a smile as she
slipped out the room and headed down the stairs. "All right, all
right, I'm coming. Keep your hair on!" she called out as the chimes
went again.
*
Keep his hair on. Cy ran his hand over his
shorn locks. Most pixies wore their hair at least shoulder length
to show off the bright colour. Like peacocks strutting their stuff
to attract the ladies. Trouble was, day-glo hair tended to stick
out like a sore thumb. No one had any trouble picking them out from
a crowd and, with the reputation pixies had as trouble makers, it
made them a target for most law enforcement officers. Not to
mention warned the ladies, of any species, off.
Cy's natural hair colour was bright blue, the
same shade at his eyes. Dyeing it every couple of weeks was a bitch
but it stopped the questions about his species. Leaning against the
door frame he waited for his date to get her act together and open
it. At least she sounded nice.
Probably
short, round and the wrong
side of fifty, he thought to himself. The way his luck ran with
women she'd be a twenty-pinter. Anyone caught him out with her
they'd be calling him 'stumpy' for sure.
He closed his eyes for a second and slipped
into the day-dream he'd been entertaining for a few days now. That
his 'date' would be the mouth-watering little brunette he'd seen
the night of the auction. As soon as he'd seen her he hadn't been
able to take his eyes off her, spotting her easily despite the
glare of all those lights in his face.
Who could blame him. Why would any guy in his
right mind want to take his eyes off a woman like that? Just
thinking about her heart-shaped face and those sinfully dark eyes
was enough to have him at half mast again.
"Bollocks," he muttered and shoved his hand
into his crotch to try and bate down his reaction. Great, the last
thing he wanted was Mrs. Average to open the door and think he had
a hard-on for her! Then the door swung open and Cy lost the power
of speech.
Stood just the other side of the door was the
brunette from the auction.
Cy's jaw hit the deck. He shook his head to
clear it. Surely he was seeing things but no, it was her. The one
he hadn't been able to get out of his head, the one who'd been
giving him restless nights and wet dreams ever since. He'd tried to
find her but she'd disappeared before he could make his way from
backstage.
He'd been pissed off at the time, even more
pissed off than he had been at the start of the evening. Pressured
into the auction in the first place he'd refused to go the full
monty and do the strip routine the guys had wanted. Red satin thong
and all.
No way, no how. He wouldn't have put it past
one of them to be taking photos from the back of the room and then
they'd be plastered all over the walls in the staff room at work.
Cy might be a little gullible at times, but he wasn't
that
stupid.
His irritation had grown deeper when no one
at the table seemed to know who she was, giving him blank looks
when he'd asked about the gorgeous brunette with the 'take me to
bed' eyes and sinful lips.
Her lashes swept over her eyes as she looked
down. Right to where his hand cupped his crotch. "Do you need to
use the little boys room?" she asked coolly, a flash of amusement
in her chocolate-sherry eyes. "I...ugh."
Shit
. Cy snatched his hand away from
his crotch as bright colour flared across his cheeks. He ignored it
as his natural confidence surged back. His eyes dared her to keep
looking and, if she did, to comment on the semi-erection starting
to tent his jeans. Far from being embarrassed now he wanted her to
notice it, wanted her to comment.
Her eyes widened, darted away, flicked back
for a second, then settled on his face. Cy's lips quirked in
amusement. If the sight of a semi like that got her flustered, he'd
love to see what would happen if he whispered the wicked things he
wanted to do to her in her ear. Starting with stripping that tight
little dress from her luscious tits right here on the porch and
suckling her nipples until she was moaning in pleasure.
"No, I'm fine, thank you. I believe we have a
date this evening?"
Cy straightened up and flashed her his best
smile. The one which normally had the ladies panting and ready to
do anything he wanted. To his surprise, it had totally the opposite
effect. Her lovely eyes shuttered over and she smiled a small,
brittle smile.
“We do indeed. Let me just get my coat."
When she reappeared she was wrapped shoulders
to mid-calf in a voluminous trench-coat Cy took an immediate
dislike to. Not only was it hideous but it hid her wonderful
figure. A figure Cy wanted to see more of...much more of.
Preferably without that red dress, lovely was it was, on.
She'd be all satin skin over those glorious
curves. Curves he intended to take his time exploring and finding
all the spots that made her squirm in pleasure. The fun he'd have
finding things out about her. Did she prefer her nipples licked or
sucked? Would she be a moaner or a screamer as he made her come
with his lips and tongue? Would she gasp as he filled her with his
cock over and over again?
"My lady, if you'll allow me?"
Cy locked his thoughts away in a corner of
his mind and offered her his arm, trying his best to be gallant.
Not easy when she was looking at him as though he'd just crawled
out from under a rock.
That
wasn't something he was used to.
For a pixie Cy was considered good looking. Pretending to be human
with dyed hair and the whole pixie/fae sexual edge going on, he was
devastating. Something he accepted without question or vanity, but
something he was more than happy to use to his advantage,
especially with a woman like this.
For a moment he allowed a fantasy of what
would have happened if she'd been a pixie to fill his mind. They'd
have met at a clan gather—perhaps to celebrate a wedding or
truce—and he'd have moved heaven and earth to possess her. Even to
the point of starting a war so he could claim her as his own.
Might made right. The Pixie code. If you
could take it and hold onto it, you could keep it. "Of course."
She placed a delicately boned hand on his
arm. A shiver shot through Cy. The heat that had been banking up,
fuelled by his thoughts, broke free of its constraints and flared
into a full blown inferno at her touch.
The gasp which left his lips was as
unexpected as it was unintentional. Play boy extraordinare Cy
usually had better control than that. Even more surprising was her
echoing intake of breath.
A buzz of awareness arched between them.
Cy turned his head and caught her eye. Again
her eyes widened and, this time, anger filled them as she pulled
her hand away.
"Let's get on with it, shall we?" she asked,
breaking away from him to stride down the short path to his
car.
What the fuck? She'd felt that too, he'd seen
it in her eyes. Cy followed her like a puppy on a leash—all the
while trying not to imagine what her ass looked like under all that
material.
He failed. Miserably.
"Flashy. Guess you don't have a family."
The comment dripped acid. Cy frowned. Where
had that come from? And the anger? Had he done something to upset
her? Impossible, he'd only arrived a few minutes ago and even he
couldn't piss off a woman that quick. Had he met her before and
pissed her off somehow?
"No," he said, his voice clipped. "I don't
have a family."
*
The drive to the restaurant was painfully
silent. Cy kept stealing glances at his passenger. She sat in
silence, no attempt to engage him in conversation. She just looked
out of the window.
Cy's confusion grew. She was acting like she
didn't want to be here. If she didn't then why the hell had she bid
on the date with him?
His annoyance grew by the minute, swelling
and filling him. Cy was a hot-head, always had been. He couldn't
keep things bottled up for long and, sure enough, within minutes he
cracked.
"Okay. Time out," Cy announced as he swung
the sleek sports car out of the flow of traffic. He pulled up,
yanked the handbrake on and looked at her. As he did he tried to
school his expression to cool, calm and collected. So what if he
thought she was the sexiest thing on the planet? If she wasn't into
him, she wasn't into him.
"So do you want to carry on? Or should I turn
the car around and take you home now?"
Finally she turned her head and the darkness
in her eyes took his breath away. Then she shook her head and
smiled. Well, she attempted a smile. Cy wasn't fooled. Someone,
somewhere had hurt this woman and hurt her badly.
"Of course I want to carry on. Why else do
you think I paid for the date?"
Oh my god, he was gorgeous. More so than he
had been the other night on stage, if that was possible. His hair
was dark and cropped so close to the scalp it was hard to tell
exactly what colour it was. Teresa curled her hands into her lap
and fought the urge she'd been having since she'd first seen him at
her door. The urge to reach out and run her hands over his head was
overwhelming. An image of his dark head against the pale skin of
her breast filled her mind. She could almost imagine the warmth of
his mouth as his lips closed around her nipple. Teresa bit back a
moan.