The Wolf in the Mansion [A Siren Adult Fable]

by Gracie C. McKeever

  "I think I know of a way we could try and get something on Cyril."

  "How? Spy on him?"

  "Something like that.” Deja smiled, hooked an arm through his as she led him to the bedroom. “I need you to tie me up."

  Chapter 5

  "You need me to what?” Certainly he couldn't have heard her right.

  "You heard me. Tie me up. Well, my wrists anyway, just so my spirit replica can find its way back and stay connected to my physical body. I don't think I'll need to resort to any more drastic binding, blood control or scourging, at least not yet. Besides, those went out decades ago. Especially the last o—"

  Lincoln flung up a hand to stop the deluge of information. It was too much at one time and it gave him an unexpected headache. Did that bode well for his memory or not?

  Deja put her hand on his arm. “Are you okay?"

  Her musky-sweet scent went straight to his head making his core churn with desire. Her touch set him on fire and had blood rushing to his cock. “Where will your ‘spirit replica’ be gallivanting while your physical body stays tied here?"

  "To your mansion to get information or to McCabe Associates offices. Basically, I'm going to track Cyril down wherever he is and see what I can see."

  Okay, he remembered calling her a witch when she'd first come to him at the lake and she was able to read his mind as well as he could read hers. But what she was talking about was something more than his shape shifting or any mind reading. She was talking about activities and altered states of consciousness that could ultimately be dangerous, especially if she got caught.

  "You're talking about astral travel."

  "Or a trance or astral projection.” She smiled. “You're familiar with the practice then?"

  "Only in theory.” And he couldn't for the life of him remember exactly where he had heard or learned about it and why he knew as much as he did. But since shape shifters were odd in their own right, was it such a stretch for him to believe in astral projection? Was it such a stretch to believe in Deja?

  Lincoln glanced at her and saw the determined set to her jaw. “You're serious!"

  "Is it anymore freaky or far-fetched than what you can do, Link?"

  "And you see where that got me."

  "Stop blaming yourself. What happened to you didn't happen because you shifted. It happened because your brother wanted you out of the way. That would have applied whether you were in your human or wolf form."

  "I just made it easier for him to try and off me by shifting."

  "I think it made you vulnerable, yes.” She nodded. “But what I'm talking about doing will be different."

  "In what way?"

  "I won't be alone. You'll be here to back me up."

  Lincoln drummed his fingers against his chin, going over all the possible consequences and scenarios, but the whole idea of binding her wrists just kept taking center stage in his imagination and made his cock grow painfully hard.

  Stop it! Think with your big head not your little one. “Have you ever done this before?” He watched as her face instantly flushed, and a burst of heat spiraled down from his chest straight to his dick. Taking his own advice was going to be easier said than done.

  "I'm a mother and kids don't always do what they're told or supposed to do."

  "Shame on you. Where's the trust?” He grinned, liking the way Deja squirmed at his teasing. He liked it even better when she got defensive and stood up to him with a glare.

  "Have you ever raised a teen?"

  "You know I haven't."

  "Right. So, when you do, you can come back to me with your civil liberties speeches. In the meantime, I just want to make sure Shawn grows up to be the kind of man his father wasn't. And if that takes a little maternal snooping, then that's just the way it has to be."

  Lincoln sensed touchy territory and was immediately tempted to pursue the subject of her past, especially the part involving Shawn's father, except he wasn't particularly fond of hearing the details of Deja's relationship with another man. Better to leave it alone, at least for now.

  Lincoln finally shook his head, setting his lips in a grim line. “I can't let you do this."

  Deja's eyebrows shot up as she propped a hand on her hip. “Excuse me?"

  "It's too dangerous."

  "It's my risk to take."

  "Not on my behalf."

  Her face softened and she took one of his hands in both of hers. “Link, I want to help you. Please let me do this?"

  He gaped at her sincerity, had the feeling he hadn't been the recipient of anything like it in a long time, not since Dahlia.

  Lincoln swallowed at his loss and the gift Deja was offering him.

  They were practically strangers. She barely knew him, yet she wanted to help him, possibly to her own detriment.

  "I don't need to know you well to know I want to help you and that you need help. Besides, we're not strangers."

  Whether she was making an allusion to their past connection or not, his heart and groin tightened at the intimacy they shared—then and now. He'd never trusted anyone else except Dahlia with his body and his mind, but he trusted Deja with both.

  He frowned, didn't think he'd ever get used to someone tooling around in his head except himself after the things Cyril had done to him. He couldn't stand it when his brother got in his head, especially since Cyril was so much better at slipping in and out of his mind than he was at slipping in and out of Cyril's.

  Wait a minute! He remembered!

  "More memories are coming back, aren't they?"

  "Not enough.” He wouldn't dare tell her about the dream he'd had last night of him waking up to find Cyril just standing over his bed, staring like a cat trying to figure out what to do with a mouse he had cornered. He couldn't have been more than seven or eight and Cyril had to have been twelve.

  Deja was already gung-ho to get Cyril, but if Lincoln mentioned that dream, she might get reckless in her efforts to get information. He couldn't have that on his conscience.

  "Maybe what I find on my trip will help your memories along."

  "Maybe."

  She squeezed his hand. “Please, Link. Let me."

  The woman was practically begging him, and he couldn't help thinking how much better it would be if she were begging for something totally different and just as inappropriate.

  She was a single mother with a painful past and he was a widower with a scarred heart and frayed memories of what his life used to be. It was a bad combination all the way around.

  "Okay,” he murmured.

  "Great!” She let him go to clap her hands together, looking at the world like an eager kid preparing to go on a wild adventure.

  Lincoln hated to burst her bubble, but refused to let her go off half-cocked. “One condition."

  "What's that?"

  "You don't take any unnecessary risks. The second things start to turn hairy, and I mean the second, you get out. Understood?"

  "Of course."

  * * * *

  He sounded like a father telling her what to do.

  Not that Deja had all that much experience with what a father sounded like, having been raised by a single mother and decades later repeating the cycle herself with her own son.

  But she thought if she had been raised with a strong father-figure in the house, he would have sounded like Lincoln did just now—a bossy, intractable alpha male.

  His concern was cute, as adorable as the man himself actually, but she was going to do what needed doing no matter what he thought she should or shouldn't do. This was too important not to give it her best effort.

  She had to admit she was a little excited at the prospect of her impending trip. She hadn't experienced the exhilaration of slipping through space and time unhindered in quite a while, hadn't had the need or the excuse.

  The few times she'd done it in the past, she'd been alone, a definite no-no unless the practitioner was an adept clairvoyant. Sure she was empathic and she'd been having psychic vi
sions—some self-induced and some totally unsolicited—since she was a kid, but she didn't know if she'd call herself an adept clairvoyant.

  Deja explained to Lincoln what she needed him to do as she put one of the bed's pillows on the floor and knelt on the pillow.

  Lincoln stood before her with a look of awe and hunger glinting in his blue eyes. He shook himself when he saw her gaze and must have realized he'd been caught staring. Slowly he slid the belt from his jeans loops while Deja offered him her hands.

  She shuddered at the subservient pose, liquid heat rushing to her panties at the irony, since she had never felt more powerful, more alive, so aroused.

  "This is crazy,” he muttered, looping the belt around her wrists as instructed.

  "Don't be afraid to cinch it firm. I need to feel restricted."

  Again, he did as instructed before releasing his end of the belt and sliding to his knees in front of her to take her face between both of his hands.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Stoking the fire."

  "Wha—” The rest of her words were lost beneath the onslaught of Lincoln's full lips when he drew her forward and bent his head to kiss her.

  He moved his mouth over hers, thrusting his tongue between her lips like a rapier for several moments before he slid a hand inside her blouse to cup a sensitive breast.

  Deja gasped and pushed herself closer as he rubbed her erect nipple with his palm before gently pinching it between forefinger and thumb.

  She was all set to drag him down to the floor and mount him before Lincoln pulled back, panting and holding her face. “What is it? What's wrong?"

  "As much as I'd like to distract you from what you're about to do—"

  "Oh! You're right."

  He shook his head. “The last thing I want to do is send you away."

  "I'll be back."

  "And when you are—"

  "We'll pick up where we left off."

  "Promise me,” he growled.

  "Yes. Anything.” She leaned forward to kiss him hard, more eager to get this show on the road than before. She had something to come back to, something else she needed to get done as much as find Lincoln's answers.

  Lincoln released her to stand, tugging his end of the belt as she'd told him to do.

  Deja closed her eyes, bowed her head and allowed Lincoln to pull her forward. She recited a favorite chant to bring her closer to a trance-like state and urge her spirit replica to leave her body. After several moments she felt herself drifting up and out, over her physical body.

  She took a deep breath, almost forgot the elation involved in astral travel, the freedom of being outside one's body. Outside of good sex, there was really no other experience like it. Lincoln had brought her close earlier when he'd gone down on her and she longed to experience all of what he had to offer and give as much in return. She longed to feel him inside her, hot and hard and hers. All hers.

  Deja opened her eyes to find herself floating a few feet above Lincoln. She drifted closer, fingers itching to erase his frown and the worry lines from his forehead. He looked so stern, so serious and troubled.

  She smiled at the maternal, protective feelings that suddenly overwhelmed her, then reached out to ruffle his hair.

  Deja wasn't surprised when he jerked up his head and looked around, knew he would be sensitive to her presence.

  She'd have to be careful with Cyril, sure he would be just as intuitive, if not more so, his sixth sense probably honed to a fine edge by, if not guilt, then at the very least paranoia.

  "Deja?"

  "I'm here, baby,” she whispered, not really expecting a response.

  "Be careful."

  She felt her eyes well up, determined not to lose this man so soon after finding him, determined not to lose him at all. “I will.” I love you, Link.

  It felt good thinking that. She wondered how it would feel to say it, looked forward to telling him.

  Deja smiled as she glided through the door and began her journey in earnest.

  Time and space on the astral plane was nothing like it existed on the mortal plane and the things Deja could do while projecting were things she couldn't in her physical body. She guessed that's what made astral projection so invigorating, at least to her.

  Focus girl. You've got a job to do.

  Deja steered towards McCabe Associates first, popped into the offices as Cyril's lunch was being delivered.

  Deja glided passed reception and followed the deliveryman into the luxurious inner sanctum that was Cyril McCabe's office.

  Two other businessmen were present. Both impeccably dressed in their corporate gear, neither of them familiar to her.

  This was either going to be very boring or very exciting.

  Deja bet on the latter.

  She pulled up a chair to sit across the table from Cyril, squeezed between two of the businessmen, cradled her chin in her palms and leaned her elbows on the table.

  The businessman to her left opened the discussion. “Let's cut to the chase, McCabe. Is the merger on or not?"

  "As you're both aware, we've run into a couple of snags."

  "Yes. We've all seen the papers, and we're sorry to hear about your brother. Now, let's get down to business.” Lefty said.

  Deja gritted her teeth, seething.

  "I convened this meeting today to give you a heads-up in person and let you know our company is still interested in merging with yours. It's just going to take a little longer than I originally planned to get the backing I need to make this happen."

  "You mean you need more time to convince your brother to agree,” the businessman to her right piped up.

  "Trust me. That's being taken care of."

  "We all know he was the majority stake holder in your company. Without his authorization, this whole deal goes south,” Lefty said.

  They were all talking about Lincoln like he was already dead and forgotten.

  She bet Cyril just wished.

  "That's not anything either of you need to be concerned about. The situation is being handled,” Cyril said before focusing his cold gaze right on her.

  Chapter 6

  Cyril couldn't see her, but he felt her, the warmth of her benevolence suffusing the room as if she was everywhere all at once. He sensed her spirit's energy emanating from the space between his two business associates.

  The little fool! What was she up to? Spying on him for Lincoln?

  Cyril wondered whose idea it had been to visit him, Deja's or his brother's.

  No, Lincoln was too chivalrous and proud to ask a woman to risk herself for him. He would never put someone he cared about in jeopardy.

  But he could see little Ms. Deja Hamilton offering her services to his brother. He could see her falling under Lincoln's spell the same way Dahlia had.

  Cyril growled at the indignity of it, drawing concerned stares from his associates.

  He quickly apologized, then proceeded to cut the meeting short and easing the two men's nerves with assurances of his determination to see this merger was a done deal before hustling them out of his office and to the elevators.

  Once the men were safely on an elevator and Cyril made it back to his desk behind closed doors, he buzzed his secretary.

  "Sophie, I'm not to be interrupted until further notice."

  "Until further notice, sir?"

  "You heard me the first time!"

  "All right, Mr. McCabe."

  Cyril hit the off button on his telephone console and wondered why he hadn't been able to get good help since Deja.

  Unlike all the other women he'd had working for him, Deja had been the epitome of a good assistant. She was efficient, circumspect and wasn't one to fawn over a pretty face. At least she had never fawned over him the way some of the other women in the company did. It was this that made him admire and respect her, the main reason he wanted her, because she acted, for all the world, like she didn't want him.

  But she had fallen for Lincoln, was with him, hel
ping him against Cyril.

  Seems he needed to teach the witch a lesson about the extent of her powers and his.

  "I know you're here, little one,” Cyril murmured and waited for a response. When none was forthcoming, he was certain she couldn't manifest herself any further, knew she had not mastered this skill yet.

  Yes, she had a lesson to learn. And he was just the man to teach it to her.

  * * * *

  Deja held her breath, felt Cyril's malevolence from across the room, stronger than she had ever felt it since their association began.

  His hedonistic and womanizer tendencies had always turned her off, but this feeling she got from him now was different. This vibe went beyond someone who just wanted to get his freak on no matter who he hurt. This vibe was pure evil. Had she had her head in the sand the last five years? Otherwise, how had he hidden his depravity from her for so long?

  She watched as he stood and made his way around the large cherry wood desk, hands in his pocket when he strolled towards her, leering.

  Deja knew he was trying to scare her and she hated to admit his tactics were working.

  "So, how's my brother, dear Deja?"

  She held her ground as he neared, afraid that if she moved she would give away her position, give him a target.

  What would he do if he actually located her? What could he do? Could he chase her?

  He'd said he knew she was there, but could he actually see her or did he just feel her?

  Either way boded badly for her. She hadn't wanted him aware of her presence at all, hadn't wanted him to know he was being watched. She had failed miserably.

  Lincoln, I'm sorry.

  "Is he still back at your cabin or is he closer?” Cyril took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Several seconds later he opened them, grinning when he moved his gaze in her direction.

  Deja shuddered as goose bumps sprouted on her arms.

  She needed to leave, but didn't want to admit defeat prematurely. She still had a chance to get something useful, something she could take back to Lincoln.

  Cyril was cocky and just maybe he would say something to incriminate himself.

  "There's nothing you can do to help him, you know. No way to prove what happened, especially since you weren't there and Lincoln can't remember."