Caleb surveyed her kingdom,
the small
curiosities shop Wren
reigned
as Queen. A gossamer
wisp of commercialism in the store poorly disguised the raw under current of
ancient power. He’d missed the slumbering potency of energy before.
He leaned against the mantle of the older stone fireplace,
small objects randomly displayed on the wooden shelf above the hearth. A long
blade with gold overlaid from button to quillon rest gently in its display
rack.
A whisper of power stroked him. She’d inherited an
interesting trove of artifacts bearing further investigation. And, he would
need to learn more about this grandmother she’d so lovingly referred to.
If she needed him to be a shop keeper this morning and give
her room to think then shop keeper he would be. He couldn’t miss the concern
over her finances. She needed to sell things here to make money to stay in
business. However, it was more than selling things. The task would be to get
the necessary objects to the right people. He slid his arms in the sleeves of
the t-shirt she’d given him, flexing and giving it a fabric screaming stretch
before he pulled it over his head. He’d set aside a hideous pink one for Ethan.
He’d wear it just because Caleb would convince him the girl had picked it out
for him. He chuckled to himself. It would be sweet.
There a woman walked down the street as if to pass the store.
She must need something. She looked idly in the windows, hesitated then pushed
open the heavy walnut door. She looked around bewildered.
“May I help you
Miss.
” Caleb intoned
with just the right amount
of,
of course I can help you,
laced in his voice.
“I’m sure you can help me. I’m looking for…” she paused,
seeming at a loss for what she was looking for.
Caleb glanced around grasping for what she could possibly
want. “A gift for a friend, perhaps, we have some specialty made goats’ milk
soap, scented with essential oils.” He held up a bar from the display. She
walked forward smiling in obvious relief.
“Yes, of course I should pick up a thank you gift for my
secretary. She’s been so helpful lately.” She sniffed the bar of soap,
judiciously at first and then inhaling the aroma gustily. “Oh my god, that
smells so good. What is it?”
He read the label. “Rosemary, lavender and lemon grass.”
“I’ll take three for gifts and three for myself.”
That set the tone for Caleb’s morning.
≽
∞
≼
The doorbell
interrupted
Wren’s thoughts again. How annoying, the tinkling noise announcing
the opening and closing door all morning. She’d entered the week’s receipts,
made deposits and orders. Looking around she was somewhat surprised the amount
of time that had passed and all the really did accomplish while her mind
wandered. She might as well check on the shop and find out what was going on.
Surely all the old biddies in town had been by checking out
why the cruiser had been parked out front. Sitting in the office stewing over
the financial situation she had little control over wasn’t productive. It was
depressing. There was a chance the Samhain open house would infuse the business
with new patrons, a hope she clung to. She still wanted coffee, but maybe he
would want tea now. She fixed him a cup and then wandered out of her office, balancing
the mug of Asian White.
He was lost in earnest conversation with a customer about the
metaphysical properties of gems and stones. He’d chosen a black t-shirt with a
white silk screen slogan across the front that read,
I come with my own background music
. The shirt fit him snug,
enhancing the definition of his sculptured muscles. She leaned on the counter
and watched him in action.
He spoke to the woman; his voice carried a lilting cadence,
as if English wasn’t his primary language. The accent was strangely familiar
but she couldn’t remember where she’d heard it before. He listened carefully to
the woman talk then helped her select a hematite, a piece of amethyst, a nicer
carved jade, and a velvet pouch to hold the stones together.
He encouraged her choices with soft words and shy smiles as
he pointed and held crystals for her to examine. Wren noted the woman’s
predatory looks at Caleb and her coy touches on the back of his hand and arm.
She managed to keep her possessive urges to herself, but her
freaking tongue would probably have scars to prove it. She sighed in relief
when the woman finally left the shop with $175 dollars’ worth of product.
Opening the register drawer, Wren found it packed with, cash, checks and credit
card receipts. Caleb had done more business in one morning than she usually did
all week.
“You’re a natural,” she told him coming around the counter.
“I should pretend to do the books all day and let you work your magic.” She
handed him the cooling herbal. “Maybe you should walk up and down the sidewalk
outside. That should bring a few more women over out of curiosity.”
The asperity in her tone was at odds with the
mushy way he and his brother made her feel. At least she had a voice again. The
tea he’d given her earlier did soothe her throat.
“You have a beautiful voice. I’m glad the tea helped.”
Caleb’s eyes explored her as he sipped the drink. She frowned. Were they that
in sync that he could guess her thoughts.
Caleb braced his hands on the counter behind him, and leaned
back, oozing more sensuality than a Calvin Klein billboard. Sexual harassment
or not, she ogled. She needed a distraction or she would end up draped over him
like a silk sheet. The places and ways she wanted to kiss him were totally
inappropriate.
“Where is Ethan?” She fought not to sound breathless.
“He’s outside. Perhaps you should check on him. He’s been
working on your stairs.” He took a long swallow of the tepid tea, and then
added, “He has your wish for outside advertisements covered.” He winked at her.
The man wore smug oh so well.
“What is he doing, besides fixing my stairs?”
She demanded. “What outside advertisement?”
Instead of answering, Caleb turned her toward the door.
Another woman made her way into the shop and Wren was torn between leaving to see
what Ethan was doing or staying to see what Caleb would do. Curiosity over
Ethan got the best of her and she forced herself to go outside to find him.
She found Ethan, naked from the waist up, working with a
circular saw, a light sheen of perspiration covering his hard packed torso.
Boards, tools and debris lay scattered over the tailgate of a dilapidated grey
dodge truck, which looked held together with bondo, wire and rust. The pine
pitch aroma of saw dust caused her to breathe deep filling her senses. She
relished the sharp, clean smell.
His every move rippled the muscles of his back, screaming
prime eye candy here.
She imagined the
feel of his skin, tight over his bulging muscles, slick from sweat. The front
view promised to be equally seductive.
Advertisement?
Hell, any woman in the downtown area would be tempted to check out the buff
construction dude at
Salynne’s
. She
glared across the alley at his audience. There they were. Geriatric cougars at
ten o’clock, gathered on the wide veranda porch of Becky June’s Hair Salon.
Was that the Mayor’s wife? Wren felt the scowl wrinkle her
forehead. Didn’t these women have anything better to do? Wasn’t today a blue
hair special? Evidently noticing her fierce stare, the ladies filed back in the
beauty shop. That wouldn’t hold them long.
Ethan laid down the saw and turned, greeting her with a wide
smile. “Ah, our little bird has risen from her nest.”
Some of the anger she’d felt at the women and exasperation at
the whole freaked-out situation channeled into her voice. “My name is Wren, I
am not your little bird, and what are you doing working half naked outside my
store?”
He scooped her up into his arms. “She has claws and spits,
perhaps she’s a kitten.”
His kiss
assaulted her mouth. Her brain turned to mush. She stroked her hands across the
sleek smoothness of his skin to clutch his sweat dampened shoulders. Reality
was better than she imagined.
He broke the kiss, sucking her lower lip between his, and
then releasing it with a sharp nip. Goddess, the man knew how to kiss. He
melted her resolve and evaporated all her hostility.
“I’ve wondered all morning what that first kiss would be
like. I think you should have Caleb kiss you too.”
He let her slide down the hard planes of his chest, his
erection settled against the softness of her stomach. She stretched and arched
against him, willing to demonstrate ways her soft differences could ease him.
The tailgate of his truck was a likely place. Was he
manipulating her to feel this way? What felt so right, seemed so wrong. Did he
know how much she wanted to have sex with him? She pushed against him as he
bent to press soft kisses along the cleavage exposed by her feminine cut
t-shirt.
He murmured between kisses, words that took a moment to
register in her lust-fogged brain. “I cannot have sex with you at the moment. I
must finish repairing your stairs.”
He
turned her to send her on her way back toward the shop with a playful slap on
the ass.
No one slapped her on the ass. She whirled hissing. “I didn’t
come out here to have sex with you!
Or to kiss you.”
As an afterthought she looked around to be
sure she hadn’t been overheard. “And would you put a shirt on?” What was
causing her to feel so needy one moment and then angry about it the next?
He caught her and pulled her against him to kiss her soundly
again. “I’ll put my shirt back on now. . .” he paused dramatically, glowing
with arrogant amusement. “. .
.so
you can strip it off
my body later.”
She couldn’t trust her voice to speak, and her mind failed to
provide a snappy comeback. She rolled her eyes and stomped back toward the
store. Thoughts poured through her mind like an X-rated slide show, causing her
to pulse with a slow, throbbing beat. Her thoughts filled with erotic images of
the three of them entwined together, gripped in the throes of sex so hot she
clenched her thighs to stop her body’s eager reaction.
When she heard Ethan laughing behind her, she refused to run
for the comfort of her store. She slowed her stride. Let her body find just the
right rhythm of southern girl bootie sashay.
His groan and muttered “Great Muhala” rewarded her efforts,
guaranteeing he wouldn’t be much longer working on the stairs.
A tall, statuesque blond woman leaving the store paused in
the doorway Caleb held open. The small package she carried didn’t necessitate
her plastering him with every available body part when she scraped past. Wren
stormed over, preparing to tell the hussy to keep her body off him, when Caleb
released the door to swing Wren up into his arms and carried her inside. She
realized she was growling beneath her breath.
“Ah, I did not believe Ethan when he told me the kitten has
claws. We’re honored that you would battle for us.”
He was smiling that same insufferable smile
his bookend twin practiced so well.
“You’re here, he’s out there. How could he have told you
anything?”
Caleb tapped his finger to his temple. “There are ways.” He
brushed his fingers down a lock of her hair trailing down with a whisper of
touch across her breast. His thumbs teased the front of her shirt and her
nipples tightened into hard achy points that radiated a heat to her groin and
increased the throbbing between her legs, threatening to melt her anger.
She pushed away from
him. “I’m not your kitten, your bird or your freaking bimbo. I’m Cathwren. My
friends --although I’m not sure I’d put you or that grinning ape out front in
that category at the moment-- call me Wren.”
She struggled out of his embrace. She’d never felt this way before. She
lost herself in the consuming, rampant sexual need. Wren fought to find herself
and regain some form of balance.
Wren wanted to run instead
she stepped closer
into the sheltered embrace of Ethan’s arms. She’d brought them upstairs on the
pretense of giving him a place to clean up after his construction on her
stairs. Then she’d gone back to the store in order to lock up.
Shop owners in the down town area customarily closed their
doors for a couple hours after the lunch traffic subsided then reopened in the
late afternoon to catch the after work and evening trade.
Ethan’s voice rumbled against her neck where he applied
himself to soft kisses which stirred her blood. She should be fixing lunch for
the three of them.
She trembled in his
arms with the thrill of sensation riding her. Ethan caged her against his body.
Her hands clasped around his hips, every curve matching the contours of his
hard lines wasn’t close enough contact. She ached to kiss his tight masculine
nipple, hard beneath the soft cloth of the t-shirt. It would be so easy to give
in.
The small clear sparkles of water beaded up on his neck from
his damp hair called to her. She fought the burning desire to touch him. Wren
struggled to restrain herself.
She wanted to capture the droplets of water with her tongue
as she kissed her way down his neck and chest. Wren clung to his body. Ethan
felt hard and inflexible. Yet, he sheltered her wrapping his arm around her
shoulders, a contact intimately possessive and tender all rolled into one. She
couldn’t resist him much longer.
That’s when she noticed Ethan was dressed in a fuchsia
t-shirt with a fairy on the front. Man, did he look good in pink. Oh but this
was never going to do. Caleb didn’t miss her observation and a grin split his
face.
Wren had to know. “Where-did-you get that shirt?”
Ethan looked down at the logo blazing across his front.
“Wasn’t I to be given clothes? Caleb gave it to me on your command.”
“He gave you this?”
Ethan nodded, looking a little confused.
“Give me that.”
She
held out her hand for the shirt. She didn’t understand the look he gave her
somehow shocked and sad all at the same time as if she was stripping him of
something precious. He pealed the shirt over his head stretching out the task.
The muscles the fabric covered screamed alpha male. Those weren’t hot house gym
muscles. They were layers of power achieved from work and activity. She glanced
at the various scars here and there that she’d not noticed outside. One of the
smallest
a half moon circle
just above his belt line.
He’d led a rugged life.
“Did I displease you that you would take back the clothing?”
His words were out of character with this time and place.
She’d noticed sometimes they lapsed into a pseudo formal speak and their accent
became thicker. No way was she going to let this beefy hunk of a man outside in
a pink t-shirt. She might be held responsible for some international incident.
She made a face.
“No, of course not.” and grabbed the offending pink cloth
from him headed to her bedroom closet. She must have a men’s shirt in huge X
that she’d used as a nightshirt. Something in here would fit him. She found a
black Tee from Tarpon Springs that she thought might work.
Marching back to the kitchen she handed it to him. “Here wear
this.”
She had no idea why he appeared
baffled that she would take the neon pink shirt away from him and give him a
different one. Did the man have no worldly concept? “I’m sorry. If Caleb gave
you that fuchsia thing, you’ve been had by the trickster. I can’t have you wear
girly pink.”
“You would replace the other with this one, clothing you’ve
worn?” What looked like pride replaced the earlier dejection. He struggled to
get the shirt over his broad shoulders. The fit was snug but it would do. She
felt her cheeks blush reading the logo,
Pearl
Diver
. Dear Goddess, was she going to make everything about sex?
“Well, yes, it’s clean. Or you can pick out a new one down
stairs, just not pink.”
“You honor me. Of course, I’ll wear
your
clothing. ” He met Caleb’s open mouth shock with a mischievous
smile. He caught her hand and pulled her into his arms. She’d look back and
know it was his boyish smile that pulled her over the edge.
Wren whispered against his skin. “Maybe I can get someone to
take over the shop for a few days.”
He shuddered as her mouth closed on his chest swirling her
tongue around the hard nub of his nipple through the cloth. She didn’t
understand so much of what was happening. Why did she feel such a loss of
control over her impulses, crowding reason out of her mind?
Conflicting desires surfaced, tangled together. She felt
confused and somehow isolated by the lust riding her. Wren needed to do
something, to move. Ethan turned her in his arms, his body like granite against
her back and Caleb lifted her to straddle Ethan’s thighs sitting on the edge of
the table.
He spoke softly against her ear, choosing the perfect time to
show her they shared her intense need. “See what you do to me.” She was not
lusting alone. He turned her body so she could feel his thick erection press up
against her backbone.
No doubt each of them had the gift of generous endowed body
parts in absolute harmony with their height. Ethan probably had huge feet too,
with exquisite, Goddess-formed sexy toes
“Oh Goddess, what’s going to happen to me?”
“What do you want to have happen, Wren?” Caleb faced her,
arms encircling her waist, giving her the power over what would transpire
between them.
While she may have just met them that morning they were far
from strangers. Against all logic and generally accepted good sense she felt a
rightness and connection with both men. “I want…
I think, I
want…
No, I need… I need you both,” she rasped.
Her emotions swung the pendulum between certain and
overwhelmed. Having confessed her needs aloud erased all the fear and
hesitation that bewildered her before. “Yes, I want both of you.”
They murmured together, caressing her with their whispered
words. The words were lyrical and held the cadence of an ancient language that
she couldn’t understand, yet seemed so familiar.
“Yes, brave of you to own that knowledge. We will explore
your needs and pleasure. We can be yours.”
Their voices blended together. She relished the glorious feelings they
were creating.
She wanted, urgently needed Caleb’s mouth on her and Ethan’s
hands touching to explore her intimate secrets, sharing her with his brother.
Wren instinctively knew they were manipulating her and
guiding her toward some unknown destination with skillful seduction. She also
understood that a ‘no’ from her would stop everything.
I want this more than
anything I’ve ever wanted.
Ethan unsnapped her jeans, sliding the zipper down with a
seductive slowness that gave her time to stop his advance. Glorious fingers
brushed her pelvis with a slow glide, weakening her knees. Then he teased under
the lacy elastic of her panties, before easing down, parting her to gain access
to her clit. His fingers trapped the small bud, giving it a rolling pull
that drew a deep moan up her throat and sent
a shudder through her limbs.
Standing before her, Caleb caressed her breasts, adding to
her heightened awareness. He bent to possess her with kisses that built a
frenzied level of tension in her mind and body, driving her toward a peak that
frightened her with the force of impending pleasure. He thrust his hardness
against her stimulating her with fantasies of how he would feel inside her.
She reached a point of explosion, her body responding
instinctively to their prompting. Goddess, while the foreplay was indescribably
delicious, she needed them inside her. She couldn’t resist the orgasm as they pushed
her over the edge.
Wren drifted in the fog of spectacular foreplay. When she
tried to stand, though, a dizzy whirl of vertigo flattened her. Soaring in the
moment of climax her mind grasped what seemed like a memory of flying tasting
real freedom for the first time.
≽
∞
≼
The hot dank air
pressed in on The Chosen while he continued to work. He flipped a power cord
switch with his foot turning on the fan, better. The two males who’d kept the
woman from smashing on the pavement when the portal failed to open, presented
themselves as ordinary humans.
He’d gleaned information from Dirk about the denizens of this
hidden world, which had opened his eyes. He couldn’t dismiss the possibility
that they were dragons. Their size and insufferable air of masculine superiority,
clear even at a distance, were indicators. Maybe they were Drakin recessives.
The Watchers formed an insidious network of spies, hidden eyes always there
observing, manipulating, and undermining the efforts of the Knights to destroy
emerging dragons.
The more he pondered the concept, the more plausible it
seemed. Maybe they would teach her what to do with the amulet to open the
portal. He pictured the sultry, red haired vixen. The two Men…yes, maybe
Watchers who’d caught her appeared spellbound by Wren. Things might turn to his
advantage after all. He’d continued to search for clues on how he might
activate the portal without her. Then he wouldn’t need her at all.
He could let the head of the Dragon Slayer society, Dirk in
on some facet of his new forming plan if he wanted the man’s help in
determining if the two were Drakin instead of merely Watchers. Dirk must have a
contact with the other side which had to be high ranking to supply the sacred
name that brought this animal into his control. How that fit into the current
mission of the Knights eluded The Chosen at the moment. If one name had been
supplied maybe other names could be forthcoming.
The Master had his own agenda beyond turning this dragon
over, that much was for sure. It was dangerous knowledge to have. Perhaps if
the work pleased Dirk, The Chosen might earn his way to the dragon world as a
reward for his service. Asking and revealing what he knew could also backfire
earning him a death sentence. There were many ways to skin a dragon.
Negotiating with the Master would be the only way he might gain knowledge of
their dragon names. It would mean giving up more information and perhaps losing
control of the red-haired woman. He walked a razors edge. He’d hold that in
reserve as a last ditch effort.
There must be a sharper scalpel here; the hide dulled them so
quickly. He’d pursued this project with relentless attention to detail, and
when everything was ready to come about as he planned… damn, now, everything
was ruined.
He stabbed the dull blade into the haunch of the monster,
fighting the urge to stab again and again until the beast was a bloody lump of
broken remains. The brute shrieked at the penetration. The Chosen forced
himself to move away and pushed himself to stalk to the table. He rifled
through the disorder on the desk. The makeshift countertop, created by a door
braced with sawhorses, was littered with tools, paper, and discarded carry-out
food cartons.
He considered several blades scattered amid the debris. All
of them were dull. Selecting a whetstone from the clutter, he marched over to
extract the scalpel from the beast’s body with a firm jerk. He raked the steel
over the grainy stone in an abrading back and forth scrape, sharpening while he
paced the room.
No necklace, no sultry woman to meet his needs, and no portal
to the other world. Frustration seethed through him. He kicked the table,
sending papers, pens, books flying across the room. A book bounced off the
haunch of the massive indigo-winged brute, drawing The Chosen’s attention back
to matters at hand.
Trapped in iron chains, unable to do anything more than
vocalize its protest, the fiend observed him with the watchfulness of a
predator. The wretched animal waited for a mistake, when a moment of
inattentiveness might provide an opportunity for escape.
One slip and the fell brute would kill him. The adrenaline
rush of controlling such a fearsome creature kept him on a power high, like a
snake charmer’s deadly vice.
Phaux
mumbled warbling
had ceased. Something in the dragon’s uncanny blue eyes cleared giving him a
renewed alertness, a watchfulness that hadn’t been present, a frightening
intensity that stalked him. Animal instinct and something more lurked in that
intelligent gaze.
He stepped on the trigger pad to brighten the overhead
spotlight. The flood of light blinded the demon’s baneful stare as much as it
illuminated his work. He ground the steel on the stone a few more times for
good measure. He slipped the whetstone into the pocket of his lab coat. Taking
the sharpened knife he resumed cutting through the creature’s skin. Good, the
fresh honed scalpel sliced smoothly through the resilient hide.
There, ready to peel back the outer layer of dragon skin. He
ignored the beast’s screams of anguish and cut through attachments holding the
skin to muscle as he peeled. The sound, a crisp wet slurping erupted as hide
parted from raw tissue. A bitter odor emanated from the dragon to hang in the
air, coating his tongue with a harsh metallic taste. The writings laid claim to
undefined magical properties of the dragon skin.
The animal’s screeches reduced to pitiful groaning,
punctuated with shallow pants of air. Yet, as the many months of study wound
down, the
monster’s
once lustrous indigo skin had
taken on a sickly gray cast.
The Chosen laid the carpet of dark hide out across the table
for closer examination. Once removed from the body, the skin resumed the rich,
metallic deep color of health, which absorbed glimmers of light from around the
room. Within hours it would cure into silken leather. Pretty, yet seemingly
useless. He searched the table to find the wine glass that had toppled over.
There, fortunately it remained unbroken.