Col: His Destined Mate

by Georgette St. Clair

  It went against his very core as a Waryeor, of everything he had been shaped and molded through his life to be. The very reason that he had lain in sleep for so long, to be awakened in this strange world, which he felt he would never comprehend.

  And yet, this strange world was made so much more bearable, so much more welcoming, because of her existence in it.

  The other Waryeors almost seemed to be jostling to get in his way, to block his attempts at snatching more time alone with her. And his own preoccupation with his rioting senses was making him grow surly, making it harder for him to make pleasant conversation with her. He’d actually had a dizzy spell one night when Katie was there. It had happened after he’d forced himself to refrain from killing Barric, when Katie spent too long teaching the sullen fool how to properly hold a fork.

  He was ever watchful for any indication that he might lose control, might go feral and harm those around him.

  It was time for her to leave tonight, and he craved her touch with such an intensity that it made his skin each. Unbidden, his feet moved and he stalked over, placing himself between her and Aylwyn.

  “I shall accompany you to your vehicle,” he surprised himself by saying. She looked at him, startled. For once the other Bredhren were quiet, so he would not have to slay them after all.

  “Don’t you—don’t you have a patrol or something?” He was puzzled, and then realized that she was referring to how her lessons took place either when he was away, in wolf form to surveil the lands around Simon’s house, or shortly before he would leave with the others in another attempt to bond as a War-Pack in wolf form.

  “Yeah, we should head on out, bro,” Aylwyn said. Blocking him again. Or trying to.

  “When I get back,” he bit the words out.

  “Bye, everyone!” She called out, as she turned and let him guide her with one hand gently resting on the small of her back.

  They were silent until they reached the front entrance of the house, in the foyer that was dark. He let his hand slide to her waist, turning her gently to face him with the door at her back. Nothing else existed for him at this moment, except the connection between the two of them, the short distance that still separated them.

  Sounds faded into the background, all that mattered, all that he could hear were her soft breaths, rapid; the pounding of his heartbeat, quickened. The sweet scent of flowers, ripening, enticing, unfurling around as she looked up, her eyes liquid pools welcoming him in.

  “It’s been too long,” he growled.

  His hand spread on her waist, and he lowered his head towards that plump lower lip and curvaceous mouth. He had only meant to brush his lips against her gently, but the first touch ignited a flame within him. It had been too long since their first kiss in the woods, his wanting for more had grown so much. He was hungry for her, and she moved against him, her lips parting, allowing him in, as he took full possession.

  His tongue swept in, danced against hers as she kissed him back just as fervently. His other hand had moved, around her neck, cradling her head as he moved his mouth to trace her jaw, the curve of her lovely neck.

  She shivered, pinching her shoulders back and arching towards him. Her arms slid around him, and he ran his teeth, ever so lightly, on the sensitive skin where her jaw met her neck.

  Even more than that first kiss, Col had never felt so much the need to possess a woman, to move his mouth over her body, discovering its secrets and unlocking its pleasures. He had never before felt such intensity of compulsion to meld with another, to achieve a deeper union than the mere slaking of lust.

  There was nothing “mere” about what existed betwixt them, and brave Waryeor that he was, the unfamiliar sensation of fear fisted within him for the first time. Fear that perhaps she did not feel the same.

  It was disconcerting, as was the effect she was having on him, overriding his years of self-restraint. His mouth descended on hers again, almost of its own volition, and he felt her hands moving up the expanse of his back, towards his head to pull it down further. He pressed himself against her, uncaring if she felt the thick proof of his want, his desire for union.

  He slid his hand up, to the under curvature of her breast, and she shivered once more against him, the quivering of her body setting off a corresponding wave of excitement throughout him. The thin weave of the chemise she wore stretched against one stiffened peak, as his thumb stroked alongside it. She moaned softly against his mouth, and he cupped her breast gently.

  He wanted nothing more that moment than to give her pleasure, to slake his thirst for what the joining of their bodies would bring. But she deserved more than to be treated as a wench, to be taken against the door.

  And he sensed that she would look back upon it with sorrow and regret if he did. Reluctantly, he dragged himself apart from her.

  Her breath was ragged. As was his. But she was looking at him warily, he hoped it was her wondering why he had stopped.

  “You wished to…to take it slow.”

  A smile spread across her face.

  “I did. I do.” Her voice was husky, but there was starlight in her eyes.

  “I have thought of you every night,” Col said, then quickly corrected himself as the starlight dimmed slightly.

  She closed her eyes, the smile still on her face. A wave of concern spread through him.

  “Katie Cooper, are you unwell?”

  “Mmm. Not at all,” she said, her eyes still closed. “I just want to savor the moment, what you just said.”

  He brought her close against him, his arms around her. He was happy his words brought her pleasure. He would savor the moment as well.

  The sound of howling made her stiffen. She looked at him with alarm. “Are those…wolves? They sound awfully close to the house?”

  “Are you afraid of wolves?” The words rushed from his mouth before he could stop them.

  She frowned thoughtfully. “No, I suppose not. I mean, I love animals. I love dogs. I was just surprised, they don’t usually come so close to places where they can smell humans.”

  He suppressed a smile at that. “All is well, Katie Cooper. I would die before I let harm come to you.”

  Her answering smile was oddly wistful. “I believe you would.”

  A short time later, he watched as she drove off in the vehicle that Simon had given to her for her use. He had recognized it as the one that Merek had raced in, testing the side of it against what Miller had set up as “an obstacle course.” Unfortunately, his Brodher had thought the objective was to hit the constructs that Miller had set up, and not go around them.

  Two other vehicles were in similar state, after Aylwyn and Barric had decided what Merek was doing looked like great merriment.

  The thought of his Bredhren made him realize that there was an unusual quiet in the house and its environs. He could not hear them. How long had it been thus? He had been so enrapt with the nearness of Katie Cooper, the final kiss where time seemed to stop in its tracks, before she entered the vehicle to drive away.

  He could not sense the Bredhren, although as he entered the living room, he saw the welcome sight of Miller Armstrong.

  He was alone.

  “Where are the others?” Col asked.

  “They’re all out, gone on a pack run.”

  Col stood, frozen in place, as the realization slammed into him.

  He had chosen to be with Lily rather than go on his scheduled patrol. Duty always came first – but he had physically been unable to resist. Her touch was like a drug, and now that he’d had a small dose, he was calmed, but only a bit. “Perhaps it is best that they left without me, as I had forsaken my duty.”

  “Are you questioning your Vixar’s decisions now?”

  Col jerked his head in surprise. “Of course not!”

  “If Tybalt had wanted you to go with them, he wouldn’t be shy about making that happen. Obviously he felt that there was a better place for you to be.”

  Col nodded. He could not argue with Mille
r’s words. The question was – why? Did Tybalt feel that Col’s place was by Lily’s side – or did he believe that Col was a distraction to the War-Pack?

  Chapter Twenty

  The plan went off without a hitch. Lord Full o’ Himself was all too happy to drive her in his “wagon” or “chariot”—he used the terms interchangeably—to a house that Jordy claimed to have access to for the night. It was a beat-up Kia that had tons of snack food wrappers, empty soda bottles, and flyers from the Faire in the well where Jordy’s feet rested. The back seat, and she suspected the trunk as well, were filled with duffel bags and boxes that held his worldly possessions. She guessed that he probably stayed in one of the campgrounds near the Faire, if he didn’t just live out of his car and use the facilities at the Faire.

  He had been a little disappointed to see Jordy was still wearing her work clothes, which consisted of her Ops vest with multiple pockets, all filled with things she might need throughout her shifts, fingerless gloves, shorts and sneakers. He of course was wearing his usual Medieval garb, although he had added on a heavy cloud of Axe body spray.

  “Art thou comfortable, milady?” He was referring to the a/c in the car, but Jordy guessed it was another ploy to reach over her side and move the dial. He had already asked her several times for “her pardon” as he found numerous reasons to go for his glove compartment, while accidentally brushing his fingers on her bare arms or legs.

  Jordy had to bite back her distaste as he kept trying to touch her, or even worse, steal a kiss.

  It was a good thing she hadn’t eaten that much at the Staff Caff for dinner, otherwise that would be on her lap right now.

  Finally Cadmus’ rental house was within view.

  “Milady? Are you sure ’tis unoccupied? There are two wagons in the driveway.”

  Jordy was about to make some excuse for Billy Bob’s POS truck, but it wasn’t there. Aside from Cadmus’ rental car, there was another ride, a sportier model in bright red. Billy Bob must have upgraded.

  “It’s ok,” she said. “Just pull over where you can.”

  Lord Octopus cut off the engine, and then turned to Jordy with a leer. Three of his chest hairs peeked out from under his seat belt, which was still fastened.

  “How about a little kiss first, milady? I see thou art eager too.” He noted that Jordy was already free of her seatbelt, but as he made to unbuckle his, she placed a hand on his to stop him.

  “Yes, I am!” Jordy faked enthusiasm. “How ’bout we start with a hug first?”

  Jordy withdrew her hand, and Lord Lecher grinned stupidly, his arms already reaching for her. She smiled at him as she let him wrap his arms around her, and—

  “Ow, what the fuck?” Lord Stupid pulled away from her, and stared at his side, incredulously. Protruding from his normally billowing white shirt was a hypodermic dart, a stain of blood already spreading from where it had been stabbed into him, forcefully.

  He reached to pull it out, but Jordy was ready for him. She had a metal industrial C-clamp in her fist, one of the many pieces of hardware she kept in the pockets of her vest, and punched him in the head before he had a chance to block her.

  And punched him a few times more in the face for good measure.

  Between that and the dart, which she knew Cadmus used to acquire the men for his rituals, it wasn’t long before she didn’t have to worry about Lord Loser fighting her back or getting away. He was slumped over, still bound by the seat belt. Still, she pulled out a roll of silver duct tape and quickly wrapped his wrists, forearms and ankles.

  She steeled herself to pull that skanky hair up to lift his head, and slapped a final piece of duct tape on his mouth, over some of the scraggly hair on his chin that passed for a beard. She hoped she got to be the one to rip that tape off, but she wasn’t going to be greedy. Just the thought of how happy Cadmus was going to be seeing her offering was going to be enough. And “you’re welcome,” she said, towards the other Faire employees who would no longer be subject to his pomposity.

  She left him in the car, and swaggered up to the entrance of the house. Wiping the palms of her fingerless gloves on her thighs, she pressed the doorbell. The cars told her that Cadmus and Billy Bob were inside, and she guessed from the footfalls she heard on the other side of the door that they weren’t heavy enough to be that oaf.

  She couldn’t suppress a smile as the door opened to reveal—

  Not Cadmus.

  And definitely not Billy Bob.

  A tall guy around her age with short dark hair and wearing a tracksuit stood in the doorway, his face in shadow with the light behind him.

  “Well, well, well.” He put one arm up on the doorjamb, lowering his head towards her. “What do we have here?”

  He had a predatory smile on his face.

  Jordy’s was gone, as a wave of fear took its place.

  “It’s time for a break away from the computer screens, Simon. Won’t you join me?” Jemima Danes’ voice cooed from Simon’s computer speakers. He had set it up so he would get prompts every time the motion sensors detected that he had been sitting too long in his state-of-the-art, ergonomic office chair. There were also prompts for him to drink enough water throughout the day, but he had made sure they only sounded in the confines of this room, with the door closed.

  Apparently once the boys got used to the voice being a recording and not that of a disembodied spirit, they started to hoot and holler every time they heard it. That was the polite phrase, for their very impolite responses to the actress’ prompts.

  He pushed back the lock of hair that flopped over his forehead, and got to his feet. Pacing around, he looked through the window and out onto the green vista, lit by the noontime sun and wide expanse of clear blue sky overhead. The properties that stretched out as far as he could see, part of the holdings that he had inherited with his parents’ death. Properties that a stranger was looking into….

  “Jemima,” he called out, “use Line 3 to call Blake Rickert.”

  “Anything you want, Simon,” the voice breathily responded. Line 3 identified the caller as Simon’s tech corporation, X-Tech Solutions. Lines 1 and 2 were his most untraceable ones.

  “Dialing.”

  A few seconds later, the familiar voice of the realtor came over the speakers.

  “Hi, Simon.”

  “Hey, Blake. Any word on who’s been looking into all the properties?”

  There was a sigh of frustration before the realtor responded. “I called him and he says he’ll come into my office. He hung up before I could get him to commit to a day and time.”

  Well, wasn’t that even more suspicious.

  Simon pushed his glasses up on his nose, and grabbed a marker on the ledge of a large dry-erase board that hung from a wheeled rack. It was one that automatically saved his scribbling, and transferred them digitally to his computer. “Give me the number that you have for him.”

  Blake didn’t ask, he recited the digits and Simon wrote them down. Even if it were a burner phone, Simon had ways to track down where the phone was sold, and possibly even more information that could lead him to its user.

  “Let me know if he does come in, Blake.”

  “Will do,” the Realtor promised. “Or if I hear from him.”

  “Cool, thanks. Jemima, end call.”

  His break over, he was back over his keyboard, furiously tapping in several commands. And then some more. A final few, and then he had to concede defeat.

  Not a burner phone, but untraceable, even with all the programs that he threw at it, some that were still in prototype. It was like his own Lines 1 and 2.

  There was one more method to try.

  “Jemima,” he called out. “Use Line 1 to call the number I’ve entered….”

  Cadmus barely ate his lunch. It was a mistake. He obviously wasn’t thinking clearly, asking Billy Bob to pick it a sandwich for him on the way to Cadmus’ house. He had wondered how it would be possible to fuck up a club sandwich order.

  Now
he could wonder no more.

  The soggy bread and sad piece of iceberg lettuce framed the meat of unknown origin. The strips of bacon were tougher than his leather belt. Cadmus strongly suspected that Billy Bob had picked up the sandwich in a gas station.

  Next to a garbage dump.

  It was a fitting capper to a long, onerous night, starting with the doorbell ringing and Micah leaping up with his disgustingly endless energy to open the door.

  Micah had just announced that he was about to finally leave for his hotel in town.

  And then the door opened to his reason to stay. Jordy, his recruit, until she became the new president of Micah’s fan club.

  As he feared, the two millennials had a lot in common with each other—more to bond over, in fact, than Cadmus’ still tenuous hold on her.

  And while the sacrifice that Jordy brought wasn’t quite as athletically built as what His Terrible Majesty preferred, it wasn’t lost on him how the girl’s freckled cheeks glowed at Micah’s praise. Wasn’t it so impressive how Jordy was able to bring in a healthy young male offering all by herself? How clever it was of her to get him to drive himself here! And how wonderful it was that she identified the Faire as a way to keep bringing in more sacrifices that wouldn’t be missed.

  Micah’s butt kissing skills were unparalleled.

  On and on, as Micah of course had to stay and show Jordy how to conduct the ritual with the young prize she had brought. He had easily thrown the duct-taped male over his shoulder, and descended into the root cellar that he had pronounced as “cute.”

  The walls of the root cellar seemed to close in on them, as Micah took over the ritual, with Cadmus still too magick-fogged to resist.

  Micah even let Jordy rip the duct tape off the male’s mouth, after slapping him back to a state of consciousness. Jordy had giggled—giggled!—and fawned over his nemesis, as he went through the steps and incantations, patiently allowing her to participate where it was appropriate.