by Eden Glenn
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.
CHAPTER EIGHT
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. S
omething 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.