Savage Love

by J. Jenkins

  Shaking uncontrollably, Carolina was beside herself with suffering. Yes, she'd allowed him to use her but she never thought he'd so callously toss her love back in her face, crush her fragile heart to dust beneath his stomping feet. Tears stung paths down her cheeks. She hated and despised him for all the times she'd tricked herself into believing what they'd shared was special, beyond the physical, for stupidly being his whore and for the realization that if he'd ask, even given all that she now knew, she'd repeat exactly every thing she'd done without hesitation. Heart splintering, soul shattering, her world going black she whispered pathetically, “Go to Hell Patrick.”

  “It's not like I haven't been there before,” reaching down he raised the left leg of his jeans to extricate a small caliber pistol from its ankle holster. Placing the muzzle to his right temple, he proclaimed to a shocked and lunging Dylan, “Now you'll truly see.” Patrick pulled the trigger before Dylan could knock the gun from his hand, his black-clad figure slumping over, with the tiny hole in his head leaking a rivulet of garnet-red.

  “Heavenly Father please have mercy on him,” Dylan called out in alarm as he stood preparing to move for the phone.

  ****

  Carolina caught Dylan's hand to stay him, her voice strong yet serene, “No. Just help me get him down on the floor.” She took hold of Patrick's feet while Dylan grabbed him under his arms and together they positioned him on his back in front of the fireplace. Even though she was dejected, she knew she'd rather be downbeat with Patrick than dying without him. At that moment she didn't care that he'd been mean to her or that he'd considered her pathetic and unworthy.

  Kneeling by Patrick's lifeless form she assured Dylan, “I can heal him. I just need to know we'll be okay. I tried to tell you how he could be. He didn't mean any of that blather, only did this because he's furious about a decision I made earlier today, but I can't let him go, not forever. The longest he was ever like this was twenty-eight days, after my brother died, and I nearly killed myself getting him back.”

  Pushing aside strands of hair that clung to her wet cheeks, Dylan wiped her face with a handkerchief he pulled from the back pocket of his jeans, “Why didn't you tell me you're in love with him?”

  “Because my feelings aren't important. His heart belongs to my brother.”

  He drank in her loveliness, asking, “Are you his wife Carolina?”

  She truthfully explained, “In an elemental sense I am. He told me in the eyes of the universe I belong to him, but not by any human faith are we joined.”

  In his life, Dylan had seen a lot, done a great deal more, but the Conways and Patrick were far beyond the experiences of slamming heroin or drinking whiskey like mountain-stream water. They were a different type of altered reality that reverberated deep within his being and he struggled to keep himself contained, to go on hidden within plain sight. But with the Conways and Patrick now in his life their presence was upsetting the balance of his existence, had Justin spouting off about a past-life allegiance to Carolina, one that made him reflect on his son's conception and wonder about the child Carolina was presently carrying. How long would he have with them before she realized what he truly was, that he wasn't what she'd wanted and she left with the baby, the twins and Justin for whatever it was she had with Patrick? There were many unanswered questions but the one certainty he had was that he couldn't live without her and for him that point decided everything. Dylan, leaning closer to her, kissed her lightly on the tip of her imp-like nose. “Go ahead and care for him honey.”

  Carolina touched the cut she'd caused at Dylan's brow, stroked her fingers down to the faint bruise she'd caused at his cheek, wanting to believe she'd always see the light of caring shining in his amazing blue eyes. “Thank you,” she said before focusing her attention and energy wholeheartedly on healing Patrick. Leaning down to place her lips next to his ear, she whispered a simple, ethereal pledge, “I'll never let you go Patrick Camulus Donovan.”

  Dylan, sitting beside her, watched as Carolina unbuttoned Patrick's shirt to place her left-palm in the center of the prone man's chest. He didn't have any expectation about what he'd witness, nor did he doubt her assertion that she'd save Patrick, Dylan just wanted the phenomenon to hurry to its conclusion so she'd stop touching the other man because even though Patrick appeared youthful of face and build, his open shirt revealed a sinewy chest that was perfectly ripped, pecs and abdominal muscles so precisely defined they appeared airbrushed. But, she’d be all too familiar with... Dylan's train of thought derailed. Still touching Patrick's chest, she also moved to straddle his hips, the chiffon of her skirt rustling, bunching up to reveal her pale skin and Dylan noticed the room becoming darker, the usual brightness of the early-evening sun no longer apparent through the windows and desiring her warmth Dylan ran his hand up beneath her skirt to rest against her heated flesh.

  Carolina opened her mind, drawing in energy. She blocked her point of contact with Dylan not wanting to accidentally bind him to Patrick or vice versa and at the first stirring of electrified air around them she placed her lips over Patrick's, simply touching, waiting, until she felt the room's temperature rise. In Gaelic, she uttered aloud ancient and powerful words that would hasten his return. Then prayers were offered up in Irish. Finally, the English portion of the ritual she chose to deliver telepathically, avowing their union as a marriage, repenting for her jealousies and profanities, most of all begging forgiveness for her hatred of him, her brother and his wife.

  Patrick's healing began, the brilliant light of his soul reuniting with its human capsule, liquefied silver oozing from his wound, the bullet-hole visibly shrinking into nonexistence. Carolina parted her lips releasing the energy she'd harnessed into his waiting form, feeling the stream of invigorating, electrified air flow from her into him, faint beams of white-light radiating from between their lips out into the room. She felt Dylan moving, his hand sliding further up her thigh, then between to feel the crotch of her panties, discovering the hot wetness soaking her. Then she felt him withdraw and rise from her side to walk away. Patrick's eyes opened, looking deep into hers and she saw the colors of the universe, of eternity, swirling in their depths, felt his breath filling her mouth as his hands gripped her head, his lips moving wistfully against her own.

  For Patrick the passion came, searing and palpable, filling the room with the fragrances of summertime woods, wild strawberries, and the lush-green of Ireland. He could feel her inside him, her goodness, her beauty, her fiery warrior's strength and something mysterious infusing his blood changing him by increments as her power always did when she gave of herself to him. Releasing her head he slid his hands down to her waist, touching lightly the new swelling of her belly, the slight roundness that hadn't been there when he'd seen her in her undergarments hours before at the bridal salon. Clutching her face he drew her lips back to his and this time he gave to her, sending forth from his body a powerful beam of amber-light that made her dig her nails into his chest, her hair lifting around her, billowing about like suspended flames until he took his lips and hands from her and she sat shivering astride his hips.

  Dylan stood in the hot, light filled room wondering if Carolina still knew he existed. When he'd touched her she'd given no sign that she'd felt his hand or any acknowledgment that he'd discovered she'd been sexually excited by the exchange with Patrick. Hell even he'd gone rock hard and aching at the passing of light and energy between them. Never in his life had he felt so connected, absolutely aroused, as he had when he'd seen Carolina give to Patrick. Now he was left with an almost unbearable hunger. She was more than he could have ever expected, all that he needed. With his hand still throbbing from her heated fluid that had dried leaving behind a softly perfumed, silvery, shimmering essence, Dylan silently approached them.

  Carolina felt Dylan's strong calloused hands lifting her from Patrick's body. When her feet touched the floor, she was looking into his face, seeing the unexpected: acceptance and desire. Never taking his eyes from hers, she saw
him extend a hand to Patrick to assist him to his feet.

  Hearing the other man clearing his throat Dylan tore his gaze from hers to give Patrick the once over, his index finger touching the silvery-smudge where the bullet hole should have been and received an electrical jolt jarring deep into his arm. Shrugging off the somewhat pleasant sensation Dylan gave Patrick a friendly smile. “You've proven your point, albeit excessively, now bug off and don't ever pull another stunt like that in my house or I'll lock Carolina up where she can't get to you.”

  Leisurely buttoning his shirt Patrick looked from Carolina to Dylan, “I'll be on my best behavior unless someone gives me a reason not to be.” Gently pushing Carolina aside Patrick stood before Dylan asserting, “Now we're brothers, which entitles you to all I possess. I trust you to raise my sons, and the sons of my heart's desire. You will marry and love Gingernut, like I never could and your babes will be as my own.” Patrick opened his arms to Dylan with a wide, dimpled smile, “Now embrace me little brother so I can be on my way. I have your engagement party to see to.”

  Dylan moved closer to the smaller man with great reservation and nearly jumped out of his skin when instead of receiving a brotherly hug he felt Patrick's hands grip his face with unbelievable strength to pull his lips down to barely touch his own, sending a flow of warm herbal-scented air into his mouth. The sensation blazed a path from Dylan's lips down to his toes and everything faded away, his soul leaving his body to float above, looking down on the room and Carolina's shocked face.

  Dylan could hear his mother calling to him and he looked up to the direction of her voice. The ceiling vanished and above the room, far beyond the blue sky he saw his beloved mama adorned in a pink cotton shift, her arms outstretched to him. His Pa forever in indigo jeans and white work-shirt was further in the distance, a slight smile turning up the corners of his mouth. Respectfully he inclined his head toward his father before he floated into his mother's embrace, her head resting against his heart, his arms closing around her as he placed a kiss atop her resplendent blond hair and for several seconds they held each other before she drifted back to his father, her voice softly saying, “Don't let her go.” Dylan called out, begging his parents to stay but he could see them no longer, felt himself drifting down, settling into his skin and Patrick slowly released him to stagger back on his heels, staring speechlessly.

  Awestricken, Dylan watched and listened as Patrick turned and gave Carolina a tender peck on the cheek before saying, “I didn't mean the horrible things I said Gingernut.” Then he saw the man kneel before her to place a kiss on her stomach and his mind finally registered that she'd been transformed, appearing irresistibly voluptuous. Dylan saw her stroke dark hair from Patrick's brow before he rose to stroll leisurely from the room and to Dylan's eyes, Carolina looked ready to bolt out after him.

  Chapter 13

  She saw her peculiar reflection in Dylan's eyes and lifted a hand to smooth her unruly hair. Running her palms over the creases in her shirt, she knew she was a fright. The heat of embarrassment rose in her cheeks. She was as plump as a Thanksgiving turkey, feeling the now too tight shirt wanting to give at the buttons and seams.

  With her lower lip, trembling and her eyes fixed on his she addressed him, “What you just witnessed with Patrick, the return, is always like this, sexual and intense. With Justin, the process was chaste and pure. I swear, what happened with him was nothing like what you just saw. If I hadn't given of myself, Justin would have died, but I only partially healed him fearing his bond with me would grow too strong, would jeopardize his relationship with you.” Recalling Justin’s behavior earlier, she knew her decision had been wise.

  With her hand trembling in his Dylan led Carolina to the sectional where he pulled her down to sit across his lap. Gazing into eyes of spellbinding green, cream and black he stroked her hair, “You only have a mother's love for Justin. I've always known the truth. As I knew from the beginning, you and Patrick were, are, more than best friends. After what I've been allowed to witness I accept why your love for him is so strong, why you’ll always feel sexually attracted to him.”

  Lightly she touched the red scar on his forehead and watched in surprise as the cut disappeared. More than her outward appearance had undergone a change because in this life she'd never been able to heal with a simple touch. Caressing his cheek she assured him, “I'd never be unfaithful and Patrick will never seek me out sexually now that he's sworn himself to you.”

  Dylan experienced an invigorating tingle where her fingers had touched his brow. If she'd slept with Patrick today, he'd have forgiven her. What the two of them would have shared had to be beyond anything he could ever hope to experience, wishes fulfilled as Patrick had given him in the chance to see his mother again. He searched her eyes, continued touching her radiant red hair, “Calder said your ex wasn't of your kind. Can you tell me what Patrick is? What you all are?”

  With shy fingers, she traced the faint blue-bruise at his jaw watching happily as the discoloration faded into nonexistence. “Once he told me he's a manifestation of cosmic energy, a child of the elements, one who'll never know human death.”

  His eyes widened, “Is Patrick immortal?”

  “Maybe. He claims to be older than the Earth. I know he's separated from the body he inhabits now only three times, when he was twelve, the first time I brought him back, then six years ago after my brother died and today. Ask him and he might explain. To me he's always just been human, extraordinary, but human.”

  Capturing the wrist of her hand that touched his face, he held her smooth skin against him, enjoying the curative warmth, felt himself growing more rigid beneath her filled out bottom. “And honey, are you just human?”

  Shifting her hips self-consciously, she replied timidly, “Yes.”

  Allowing his eyes to travel over her blossomed figure with undisguised yearning, he gave her a wolfish grin. “Are ya sure pumpkin?”

  Carolina folded her hands demurely in her lap, taking shallow breaths so the buttons on her shirt wouldn't pop and go pinging across the room. “Of course. Why?”

  He held up his hand to reveal the glittering, “This happened when I touched between your thighs and you're fuller than before. Don't you feel the difference?”

  She felt them alright. Awkwardly she adjusted her shirt, saying embarrassedly, “After the exchange Patrick likes me a bit more pillowy. However the glittering is new.”

  He stilled her hand. “I wasn't complaining. How long will you stay like this?” Dylan cupped the heavy weight of her breasts, giving them a slight jiggle, “You're always so beautiful. Even when you were on top of Patrick I wanted to get inside you.”

  Heat filled her face. Gripping his wrists, she shyly urged his hands away from her engorged breasts that were an overflowing cup size larger. “For a few days or until you make love to me.”

  What a tough decision he thought, he could have her pleasing his eyes, all swollen and ripe, for days if he could withstand the torture, or he could ease the fire raging in his blood by enjoying her bounty until he was as weak as watered-down homebrew. Decisions. Decisions. “Will you let me look at you?”

  Carolina wished she could willfully shrink herself back to her normal size and with complete mortification felt a shirt button go sailing. She tried refocusing him, “We should finish talking about the things that happened in here and with the boys.”

  Through the new peephole in her shirt, he could see a silver bow at the center of her bra and soft pillows of pale flesh, beckoning him from over the tight lace. Fervently he assured her, “I'm finished.” Inserting a finger into the shirt's opening he sought out the deep glen of her cleavage, stroking along the divide, asking in a husky southern twang, “Can I play with 'em?”

  She didn't want him to because she didn't know what would happen. Stalling and easing away from his wandering hand she asked, “Why aren't you bothered by all this?”

  Hooking his finger in the front of her bra, he halted her retreat. “Because
I love you. Not in a sweet-and-flowery way as Justin thinks I should, but the way I've long needed to love a woman, deeply, fiercely, and nothing is going to change that. But honey, I would’ve let you go if Patrick had told me he’d legally wed you. I'm grateful he didn't cause I would've died. Now I have more reasons to treasure you, more causes to work at earning your devotion, the same degree of ardency you bestow upon him,” he professed drawing her near.

  Panicking, she issued breathlessly, “There are things you don't know.”

  Running his free hand up her rounded thigh, he seductively squeezed the supple skin, his voice edged with steel as he informed and commanded, “And there are things you don't know about me. One is I love a ripe figure on a woman and honey you're ready for harvest. Now take off your top and let me see.” Dylan watched as she removed her shirt, her breasts straining against the peach lace, her skin pearlescently gleaming. Excitedly drawing in his breath he ordered, “Now the skirt.”

  Grasping the long crinkled fabric, she bunched it up to mid-thigh and set to gently wriggling her buttocks against him in order to extricate the skirt from between their bodies, lifting the chiffon fabric over her head she tossed it aside. Without being told, she unfastened her bra and let the lace fall away. Studying the stones of the fireplace, she sat waiting. When a couple of minutes had passed and they still sat as they were, she looked at him and immediately wanted to take flight. Lustful, near-black eyes with flashes of white at their center fixed her to the spot. His face was hard and immobile except for a clenching muscle at his jaw. She grew alarmed, and in a small, quavering voice finally told him what he needed to hear, “Dylan, I love you.”