by LM Spangler
Micah weaved his way through the tables toward the bar. He wedged his body between two people sitting on stools at the end. While he waited for the bartender, he tapped his fingertips against the scarred, wooden counter top. Though he wouldn’t mind if she took her time.
She had one of the finest asses he’d ever seen. Heart-shaped and softly rounded. Just enough for a man to grab hold of. She wore form-fitting jeans and a snug, black T-shirt. Bleached-blonde hair, cut short, drew his attention to her long, elegant neck.
Memories slammed into his mind, nearly staggering him. He had once known someone with a similar body build. Right down to the elegant neck. She had been slimmer than the bartender. But she had been his. They had pledged their love, their futures, to one another.
He shook his head to clear his mind of the visions of her. That was years ago. Time had changed him. Made him harder, scarred him, made him more of a realist. He had loved her, but sometimes situations made a person walk away from the ones they cared for.
Someone moved past and air wafted behind him. Micah sniffed. The normal bar smells were there, but another scent assaulted him.
Warm, alluring vanilla.
Realization crashed over him, robbing him of breath and weakening his knees. He had to lean against the bar to support himself.
That scent belonged to only one person.
Her.
The love he’d thought was lost forever.
His Drea.
****
Awareness crept up Drea Tate’s spine. Someone’s gaze weighed heavily upon her.
She turned and looked down the length of the bar. Mostly her regulars.
A man with blonde hair slicked away from his face stood at the opposite end. He leaned what she estimated to be a six-foot-tall frame against the counter, probably waiting for her. Drea excused herself and moved toward him. Something about him was oddly familiar. Like she’d met him before. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew this stranger … intimately.
Suddenly, her stomach summersaulted, and she paused, mid-step, to lay a hand over it. Strange.
Drea continued to approach the customer. For reasons unbeknownst to her, her belly fluttered wildly again. She’d once known a man who could make her feel like a high school girl crushing on her first love.
He had been her real first love. The man she would have walked with through the burning fires of Hell.
The father of her four-year-old son, Reed.
Couldn’t be him. He’d died years ago. His uncle had told her that.
With a mental shrug, she reached the customer. “What can I get you?”
Her eyes locked with his. She’d know those amber-colored pools anywhere. She froze, rooted to the floor. It couldn’t be.
Could it?
His eyes were wide, boring into hers.
She stumbled back one step, and then two. The bottle of whiskey she was grasping fell from her hands and shattered on the floor, sending shards of glass and golden liquid across the ground.
Heads turned toward her, and people’s lips moved. But she couldn’t hear them. The blood whooshed through her head, leaving her ears buzzing.
Drea had to get out. She needed air.
The owner of the pub walked through the double doors leading from the kitchen to the bar area. “What’s wrong, Drea?” he asked.
“Not feeling good,” she managed. “Going home.”
“Go. You look like you’re about to pass out,” he told her.
She didn’t hesitate. Grabbing the picture of Reed that she had hung on the mirror, she raced through the kitchen to the back of the building.
She burst through the door there and stepped into the back alley. The air had chilled since she’d started her shift. Cool seeped into her skin, making her realize she had left the building without a coat. But she had to get away.
She had to distance herself from Micah.
God. Was he seriously still alive?
Shock had made her lightheaded, so she leaned against the cedar siding of the pub. Drea slid down the wall until her butt hit cold, unforgiving concrete. She lowered her head between her legs and clenched the picture of Reed to her chest. Her breaths came in pants, and she feared she’d hyperventilate, or worse, pass out.
This was not happening. How was it fair?
For the past five years, she’d believed him to be dead. He couldn’t just waltz back into her life.
The door flew open and heavy footfalls scraped across asphalt.
Micah.
He’d had followed her out.
She didn’t want to talk to him. Didn’t want to see him.
Who am I kidding?
One look into those beguiling, amber eyes, and she was already falling in love all over again. She’d never stopped loving him. He’d been her life, her heart, her soul. Her everything.
Now … now, she had Reed.
Oh, God. Reed. What would she tell him? “Oh, by the way, son, the man I told you would never be in your life is actually alive.” Granted, Reed was very young and would probably welcome Micah with open arms.
“Drea. Look at me.”
She whipped her head from side to side. “No … I ca-ca-can’t. I won’t.”
Clothing rustled and then warm hands rested on her knees. The gesture was soft, but a familiar rush of blood flooded her system, making her head light for another reason.
The touch of his hand, a brushing of his body against hers, could send flames of desire through her. The want, the need, would be instant. All encompassing. She’d burn. They’d burn.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He paused. “Not now.”
Tears stung her eyes. His voice, the clear honesty, began to weaken her resolve. Soon, she’d be begging to be in his arms, to feel his heat seep into her, to feel his lips brand her and make her his again.
But Drea had Reed to think about. Yes, the need thrumming through her was real, tangible. She wanted Micah. She’d accepted that the moment she had seen him again.
But Reed Tate was her life now. Not Micah Bridges. Not anymore.
She lifted her hands and shoved Micah away.
He fell backward, landing with a dull thud in the alley.
Drea rose quickly, dropping the photo of Reed in her haste.
Air swirled around her, and she harnessed the energy, pulled it into her being, becoming one with the wind. As it twirled, her body coaxed, twisted, becoming insubstantial and merging with the currents blowing about.
Within seconds, she was traveling on updrafts one hundred feet over the pines, oaks, and maples toward her home. Mountainous landscape blurred below her. Drea couldn’t be sure if it was her high rate of speed or the tears burning her eyes.
She’d thought she’d been long done with crying over Micah. Days upon days had been spent mourning the loss of her lover. Her pregnancy had initially come as a shock, but soon had become the only thing that had kept her anchored, made her life worth continuing.
Losing Micah had been a brutal blow, but Reed had been a blessing. Still was.
The small development outside the city limits of Cicada Lake came into hazy view. A quick scan of the area showed that none of her neighbors were out and about. Some of them were human and had no idea of the nature of the rest.
Were-animals, vampires, nymphs—the whole encyclopedia of paranormal species—inhabited the city. To her knowledge, Drea was the only full elemental fae, a fairy that could harness the four elements—earth, air, water, and her favorite mode of transportation, wind. Despite the legends that humans had created, Drea was the same height as the average human woman and had no wings.
She plummeted toward the ground, once again twisting and turning, becoming corporeal, until she landed on two feet in her backyard. Darkness had settled over the city, casting objects into shadow. One step forward would activate the motion sensor light and alert Reed’s sitter, Heidi, of Drea’s return. She’d use the same lie she had told her boss. Not feeling well. Hell, it’s no lie.
The night air seeped into her skin, propelling her in the direction of the house. By the time she had reached her deck, harsh, white light flooded the yard.
As if on cue, Heidi appeared at the back door. She stared hard at Drea, studying her for a moment. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Not far from the truth. “Not feeling to well. A little nauseated.”
“You ain’t pregnant, are you?”
For the first time in the past fifteen minutes, Drea laughed. “You gotta have sex first.”
Drea had been with a small handful of men since Reed had been born, but a stable relationship had eluded her. None of her prospective suitors had felt like they were “the one.” Who am I kidding? None of them compared to Micah.
“Yeah, sex is essential for the reproductive process,” Heidi agreed. She studied Drea for a couple more seconds. “Anyway, your boy has been asleep for about a half hour. He’s been bathed, and I read to him.”
“Thanks. I think I’ll check on him and then lay down.”
Heidi gathered her purse and keys from the kitchen counter. “I can stay if you’d like.”
Drea smiled. Heidi had become one of her best friends in the four plus years that the woman had been Reed’s babysitter. Being a water fae meant she and Drea’d had common ground from the beginning.
“No, you go home. You seem to be here more than at your own house.”
“I love you and Reed.” Heidi laid a hand on Drea’s shoulder.
Drea rested her own atop Heidi’s. “The feeling’s mutual. Go. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Let me know how you feel tomorrow.”
Drea followed Heidi down the hall separating the house into two sides to the front door. “I will. Thanks.”
“Goodnight.”
Drea watched as Heidi made her way to her car, backed out of the drive, and eventually disappeared into the night. Only then did she shut the door and lean against it.
Tomorrow would be a day of decisions. The main one being what she would do about Micah. He knew where she worked. He probably wouldn’t walk away … again. She’d have to persuade him to leave her be. Not that she wanted him to. Her heart, her body, immediately cried out to his. The pull, the need, from five years ago rose fiercely, but she couldn’t give in. Not with Reed in the picture.
She sighed as she pushed herself away from the door. After toeing off her shoes, she padded in her stocking feet up the stairs and to her son’s room. Standing in the doorway, she peered at him. Only his cherubic face and head of riotous, blond curls were visible from under his X-Men comforter.
But under the baby fat of youth was Micah’s face. The square jaw, the high cheeks. Reed already had his father’s amber eyes.
Drea’s mind flashed to the moment she had spotted Micah at the end of the bar. Blond hair pulled away from his angular face, softened by a well-trimmed beard. Those eyes had set a thousand fires alight in her belly, made her core clench with wet need, and were still as potent, as virile, as ever.
Memory of the three scars gave her pause. They hadn’t been there five years ago. One sat above his left eye, another down his right cheek, and the last ran from the left corner of his lip, which was probably the reason for the beard. To hide them.
Micah was a lycan. A creature renowned for its ability to heal itself. She couldn’t fathom how he’d gotten those marks.
She shrugged. That was a mystery she’d never know the answer to. She wouldn’t allow herself to get that close to him again.
An empty hollowness filled her being, her heart. Tears stung her eyes once again.
Drea shook her head and turned for the master suite. She removed her clothes as she walked down the hall and left them where they had landed, leaving a trail behind her. She’d pick them up after her shower.
By the time she entered her bedroom and the master bath, she had stripped naked. With the water as hot as she could stand, she stepped under the spray.
She tipped her head into the oncoming stream and finally allowed her tears to fall.
Chapter Three
Micah parked a block away from Drea’s home. With preternatural speed, he exited his Ford F-150 and maneuvered down the street. At his rate of movement, he’d be only a blur to humans and most paranormal species. Just a shadow seen out of the corner of their eyes.
He jumped the picket fence that surrounded her yard and rounded the back of the house. With his excellent eyesight, he spotted the motion-activated light mounted above the back door. With another burst of supernatural speed, he ran under the fixture and out of its range without setting it off.
This wasn’t the way he had wanted to confront her, but he couldn’t risk her slamming the door in his face. She could have an alarm system. However, the brown, vinyl-sided, cookie cutter house looked to be ten years old and identical to every other home in the neighborhood. He doubted the homebuilders had splurged on security. The faster the neighborhoods had been built, the fatter the developer’s pockets would become. If she had a system, it had been installed after she moved in.
He’d risk setting off an alarm, however slim the possibility was. Especially after seeing the photograph of the small boy he’d picked up when she had pulled her disappearing-on-the-breeze trick. The same trick she’d used the last night they were together.
That night that had apparently led to the birth of his son.
There was no denying it. His name was Reed. It was written on the back of the photo in looping, feminine handwriting. The boy had his eyes. The almond shape. The amber color. Micah saw himself in Reed’s face. He remembered pictures of himself at that age. Mirror images. Identical.
Micah placed his hand over the inside pocket of his leather jacket where his son’s image lay nestled against his heart.
He had to get into the house. With yet another burst of blurring speed, he removed his lock-picking tools from the other inside pocket of his coat. The lock offered no challenge. It opened and Micah was inside in under a minute.
No alarm. Didn’t mean there wasn’t a silent one, but so far so good.
His super-sensitive ears picked up the sound of a shower from an upstairs bathroom.
The thought of a wet, nude Drea sent blood thrumming through his body, straight to his groin. He had to adjust his cock in the snug confines of his denims. The woman had the ability to turn him into a wolf chasing after a bitch in heat. And his kind chased after females when they were most “receptive” to the male’s advances.
Micah silently moved from the kitchen, down the hall, and up the stairs. The hallway ran the span of the second floor. The running water came from the left. He glanced to the right. One of the rooms would belong to his son. Instinct had him wanting to find Reed, to see him. But he had to speak to Drea first.
He approached a door and leaned the side of his head against it. The hiss of the shower mixed with … soft sobs. Oh, hell. She was crying. A man’s kryptonite.
Micah had faced the most hardened criminals and hadn’t batted an eyelash, but the sobs he heard threw him into panic mode. His pulse raced. His heart thudded hard. Damn. And double damn.
He needed to face this head on, confront her. So, the bedroom door opened without a sound, and he stepped lightly over the medium-brown carpet toward the bathroom.
Shimmering copper graced the walls. The dressers, side tables, and armoire were painted a glossy black. The earth-tone bedding was complemented by pops of orange and turquoise in the form of throw pillows and a blanket.
The color pallet didn’t surprised him in the least. As an elemental fae, she would choose earthy tones.
The view into the bathroom was unimpeded, barring the steam billowing about. The frosted glass of the shower door blurred the outline of Drea’s curvaceous figure.
The gurgling of water running down the drain triggered an unwelcome flashback.
Micah lay bloodied,
torn apart. Voices teased his consciousness. His vision dimmed. He attempted to gather his waning strength and roll over so that he could escape. Growls greeted his efforts. The damned wolves were still there.
He was fucked.
Micah stilled, accepting the inevitable. He was going to die. His uncle and cousin would succeed in killing him, as they had apparently killed his father.
And over what? Power? Alpha status?
At least Drea had escaped on the wind. She’d be safe.
He carried that thought into unconsciousness. When he came to again, the rush of water surrounded him. Cold seeped into his being. His body tossed to and fro.
The river. They must have thrown him in. So, he wouldn’t die from blood loss. He’d drown instead.
He didn’t bother to fight the current. Why should he?
There was no warning. Suddenly, pain erupted through his body, stealing his breath. A fireball kindled in his belly then exploded outward. His body contorted, turning from man to beast. Bones cracked, muscles and sinews popped, and fur grew in place of hair.
The first change was upon him. Hellacious timing. He’d die a wolf instead of a man. Unable to do anything else, he rode out the waves of agony until they ebbed and then faded.
Micah took stock of the situation. Now, there was no pain, only invigoration. He’d survived and was weak, but alive. The river’s current lost its pull, and he doggy paddled over to the edge, where he collapsed on the shore as the water lapped around him.
Thud!
He shook his head at the noise, ending his nightmarish trip into the past. Drea must’ve dropped something.
“You can be arrested for breaking and entering. Leave. Now,” she warned.
Her low, husky voice made his cock stiffen even more in the confines of his jeans.
He closed the door and leaned against it. “You know we need to talk. I’m going to stand here until we do.”
She sighed. “If we talk, will you leave?”
“You know I can’t do that. Not after what you and I created. Why didn’t you try to find me?”
Drea shut the faucet off and opened the shower door.