by P. C. Cast
Instantly, the sky over the trees began to glitter like Fourth of July sparklers, and the breeze carried the sound of silly feminine laughter to them.
Candice scowled. “Fairies. What are they up to?”
“Keep watching,” Justin said, sipping his wine.
“I do not like fairies,” she grumbled. Still frowning, she looked back at the sparkling sky and gasped. A picture was forming from the glistening fairy dust.
“Oh, my God! It’s the Mona Lisa!”
“Keep watching,” Justin repeated.
Mona Lisa’s face changed. Candice’s mouth fell open. “It’s me!”
Justin laughed and lifted her hand from where it rested on the little table. He kissed her palm. “Yep, it is.”
Candice was still staring at the glowing portrait when the picture shifted and changed. Now she was looking at a hauntingly beautiful woman with long red hair who was sitting in a small boat.
“Waterhouse’s Lady of Shalott!” Then it, too, changed and she was watching herself frozen in time as the lady who was cursed to sing her last song as she floated down to Camelot.
Entranced, she watched the picture dissipate and begin to form again as another famous woman. This time it wasn’t a painting the fairies were reproducing. It was the eternally graceful statue of the winged Nike. And then, as if the Greek gods had ordered a miracle, Candice’s face and neck, even her long blonde hair, appeared to complete the glorious statue. Candice laughed and clapped her hands.
Justin hardly glanced at the fairy artwork. He couldn’t stop looking at Candice. Uninhibited joy had transformed her face from pretty to stunning. Everything inside him screamed, Her! She’s the one I’m meant to be with!
Candice gasped again as the new painting took form. “This is one of my all-time favorites! Meeting on Turret Stairs by Burton.” She made a happy little cry. “Justin! It’s us!”
Then he did pull his eyes from her to look at the sky. Sure enough, the incredibly romantic scene of the knight passing his lady on the narrow stairway had been altered so that it was the two of them. The knight was kissing his lady’s arm as she leaned dramatically against the stone wall of the castle; both of them were clearly overwhelmed by a desire so real it seemed to leap off the painting and become tangible. He hadn’t told the fairies to re-create this scene—just as he hadn’t told them to put his face in any of the paintings—but he was glad they’d added to his instructions. He’d have to remember to bring them a couple more steak dinners. Soon.
The fairy dust painting faded slowly, leaving only the darkening sky. Finally Candice turned to him.
“How did you do that?”
Her eyes were alive and her face was slightly flushed. He wanted to push the little table that was between them out of the way and take her in his arms and kiss her until his touch was what made her eyes sparkle and her face flush.
“Magic,” he said.
“But magic doesn’t work on me.”
“It worked on you tonight.” He took her hand and kissed her palm again. “Maybe you just needed the right partner to find your magic.”
“Or maybe your magic is so strong that even I can’t stop it.”
“I like that. I like that anything about me could be strong enough to attract you.”
“Everything about you attracts me,” she said, her voice low and sexy.
“Show me. Show me how much,” he said.
Without speaking she stood up and led him into her house, through the cozy kitchen, the comfortably decorated den, and into her bedroom.
“I want to undress you,” she said. “Is that okay with you?”
He bent and kissed her softly on the lips. “Anything you want is okay with me, as long as you still want me.”
“I can’t imagine not wanting you,” she said, guiding him over so that he stood beside her bed while she sat on the edge of it. He was wearing a black pullover, and she skimmed it up his body and over his head, letting her fingers trail lightly down from his shoulders over his naked chest and abdomen, loving the way his body shivered at her touch. Then she unbuttoned his jeans, taking her time to slowly unzip them while her lips teased his chest and her fingers caressed the hard lump that was pushing against his pants. When she finally got his pants undone she stood, and then, hooking her fingers in his waistband, slid the jeans down, pressing her body against his as she did so.
On her knees in front of him, she took him in her hands. He was hard and hot and his body jerked and quivered under her hands. When she closed her mouth around him he moaned her name, and had to lean against the bed to stay standing.
“Your mouth,” he rasped, “is a dream. A very sexy dream.”
“Wet dream?” she asked when she paused.
“Oh, God, yes,” he moaned.
She laughed, but before she could take him in her mouth again, he pulled her to her feet and in one quick movement, lifted her onto the bed. Lying beside her he unbuttoned her shirt.
“Now that’s sexy,” he said, running his finger lightly over the delicate white lace bra. “Too many women think red or black or some other godawful bright color is what men want. I don’t know about other men,” he murmured, “but I think white is the sexiest. You can see right through it.” He circled her nipple with his finger, causing it to harden. “But there’s something innocent about it. Like what it’s covering has been waiting just for you.” He bent over her, taking her nipple into his mouth right through the sheer lace of the bra.
Candice’s breath left her in a rush. “My panties match,” were the only words her lust-clouded mind could form.
Justin moved from her bra to unbutton the short cotton skirt she was wearing. He pulled it down and then knelt between her legs, gazing down at her body. She watched him closely and suddenly saw herself reflected in the desire that was so clear on his face, and knew she’d never again think of herself as old or fat or frumpy.
“Feel what you do to me,” he whispered.
He took her hand and pressed it to his chest so that she could feel the racing of his heart. She let her fingers rest there for a moment, and then held the hand that had so recently covered hers against her breast.
“Feel what you do to me,” she echoed.
“It’s good that we’re in this together,” he said. “I don’t think I could stand feeling all of this alone.”
“You’re not alone,” Candice said.
“Give me a chance,” Justin said. “Say you’ll take me seriously, even though you think I’m too damn young.”
“Justin, I don’t expect—” she started.
“Expect!” he blurted. “Can’t you just expect magic? Even if it’s never happened to you before, can’t you let me prove to you that there’s more than one kind of magic in this world, and that we can make it happen together?” He leaned down and cupped her face between his hands. “I want you, Candice Cox. Not just tonight. I want you in my life. Let me make you love me.”
His words scared and thrilled her. She should tell him no. Or she should lie to him and say yeah, whatever, so that they could have more good sex, and then send him on his way. But she didn’t want to. It might be stupid. It probably wouldn’t work. But Candice wanted more than anything else to take a chance on loving Justin. Unexpected tears came to her eyes when she answered him.
“I’ve waited a long time to feel like this, Justin. I can’t let you go now,” she said.
He smiled and wiped the dampness from her cheeks. “Well, you had to wait for me to grow up.”
“Hush and kiss me.” She pulled him down to her.
Soon neither of them could talk anymore. All they could do was feel.
8
Candice slept till noon again the next day—this time curled up against Justin’s body. And she awoke to his gentle caresses and they made love slowly, whispering erotic secrets as morning gave way to afternoon. They’d said good-bye like lovers had for centuries, with lots of long looks and lingering touches.
And tomorrow�
�they were meeting tomorrow. He’d wanted to see her again that night, but as he’d been kissing her good-bye for about the zillionth time, his cell phone had interrupted them. He’d taken the call, albeit reluctantly, and after he’d hung up he’d apologized, saying that it was a call from his family’s restaurant. They needed him to go to Denver tonight because…hell. She didn’t remember exactly what he’d said. She’d been too busy floating on a cloud of sexual satisfaction.
But that wasn’t all it was, Candice reminded herself that evening as she poured a glass of white wine and took it to her writing desk. She was floating on more than a sex cloud. She really liked him. Her lips tilted up in a secret smile as she remembered the text message she’d received from him not long ago. It had simply said:
Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.
First DeMass, then Frost, and now Shakespeare! He was smart and interesting and so sexy she wanted to begin at his mouth and lick her way down his body…and then back up again. And he wanted her to be in his life—to love him. No matter how improbable or impossible, she found herself wanting the same thing. She sighed happily and sipped her wine. Creative juices flowing (along with all the rest of them), she picked up her pencil and reread the poem she’d started.
Keep your Errol Flynns, Paul Newmans, Mel Gibsons
all puppets—empty masquerades.
Tom, Dick, and Harry, too
the boy next door
I want no more.
You ask, what now?
Well, love comes with the night,
in the most inexplicable places
leaving the most unexplainable traces.
You see…a wolfman is the man for me!
True, hair in the sink is copious,
She grinned at where she’d stopped and, inspired, started writing.
and the house at night tends to be a mess.
But
The ringing phone jarred her. The caller ID said Tawdry, Godiva.
“Well, hi there, girlfriend. Long time no hear from.” Godiva’s voice was smug. “So, has anything new come…uh, up recently?”
Candice’s breath came out in a rush. “Shit! You know! How the hell do you know?” Then she gasped, a horrible feeling lodging in her stomach. “Oh, no! Did you do it, Godiva?”
“Do what?”
“Don’t play innocent witch with me. How did you manage it? Magic doesn’t work on me.”
“It might not work on you, but it definitely works on werewolves.”
“You made him want me!” she shrieked, feeling even sicker.
“Certainly not.” Godiva sounded offended. “All I did was to cast a lupine drawing spell right after the last time we talked. If it caught a wolf who didn’t find you attractive, he would have never approached you. Think of it like baiting a hook. If the worm—which was you—wasn’t juicy and tender and appealing to the fish—or in this case, werewolf—he would never taste the bait.”
“Oh.” Candice grinned, feeling so relieved she was weak-kneed.
“Details, please.”
“Let’s just say this worm has been well eaten.”
They both dissolved into giggles.
“And,” Candice said breathlessly, “I’m meeting him again tomorrow. Godiva, baby, he’s quoting poetry to me! Poetry! And he made the stupid fairies make art for me. Can you believe it? He said he wants to worship me like a goddess, and, honey, let me tell you. I definitely can’t get enough of that kind of attention! But it’s more than just how completely sexy he is. He’s smart and funny and totally into me. And, Godiva, I really like him.”
“Sounds fabulous! Who is he?”
“You mean you don’t know?”
“No. I told you—I just baited the hook. I had no idea which wolf would bite.”
“Oh, Godiva, it’s so deliciously naughty. He’s young, and”—she dropped her voice to a whisper—“he’s an ex-student of mine.”
“Oh, my Goddess! How wickedly yummy. Give. Who is he?” Godiva gushed.
“Justin Woods,” she gushed.
“Who?”
“Justin Woods. You know, his family are the werewolves who own Red Riding Hood’s.”
“Oh, Goddess.”
“What? What’s wrong? I know he’s young, but it’s not like he’s still a teenager—which would be totally and completely disgusting—he’s twenty-six. And a half. Practically twenty-seven.”
“Oh, Goddess.”
“Godiva Tawdry, stop saying that and tell me what’s wrong!” Candice was beginning to feel sick again.
“I should have known,” Godiva groaned. “But how could I have known? I didn’t think it would be him.”
“Godiva. Tell me.”
The witch drew a deep breath and then blurted out, “He’s a slut.”
“What?!”
“He’s the most promiscuous werewolf in town—or out of town, for that matter. The pack tramp. Truly a dog in all the worst connotations of the word.”
“Oh, no…”
“Oh, yes. I promise you. My Romeo has told me all about him. He’s the pack joke. Thinks he’s some kind of furry Don Juan. He’s always licking coeds and cheerleaders and whatnot.”
“Cheerleaders!”
“I’m so sorry, Candice.”
“And all that stuff he said to me…”
“You mean about making a woman orgasm with his mouth?”
Candice gasped in horror.
“Let me guess—he licked your foot and sucked your toes?” Godiva said.
“Yes,” Candice squeaked.
“That’s his move. He does that with all the girls—wolves—whatever.”
“I may puke.” She put her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. How could she have been so damn gullible? “How about the poetry he quoted and the fairy art? Does he use that on all of his victims, too?”
“I don’t remember hearing about that, but hey, come on! Just forget about it.” Godiva forced perkiness into her voice. “You had a good time, right? A little fling—an unclogging of your pipes.”
“He played me for a fool.” Candice’s voice was quiet and intense. She let her anger build. As long as she was thoroughly pissed she could keep the hurt from blossoming like a black flower inside of her.
“No, he’s just—”
Candice cut her off. “No, Godiva! It wasn’t all fun and games—he made it appear to be more than that. I should have known…I should have been smarter, but he’s not going to get away with it. I said I was too old for this kind of shit, and I am. But not because I’m dried up and unattractive. I’m too old to be lied to and manipulated. So tell me the truth. He’s obviously not going on a supply run for his family tonight. I want you to find out from Romeo what he’s really doing.”
“Uh, if I do and I tell you, what are you going to do?”
“Well, my witchy friend, I can sum that up in one word. Retribution.”
He should never have agreed to meet the twins at the full moon party. It didn’t matter that his intentions had been right. He hadn’t told Candice the truth, which had been bothering him ever since the family restaurant supply run lie had blurted from his mouth. He shouldn’t have answered the damn phone, but he’d been feeling so good there with Candice—so right—that when the phone rang he…
He what? He’d answered it because he’d wanted to yell from the mountainside that he’d FOUND SOMEONE INCREDIBLE! In retrospect that seemed stupid and immature. And instead of telling the world about Candice, he’d quickly agreed to meet Brittney and Whitney at the party that night. There was little he wouldn’t have agreed to just to get them off the phone before Candice heard their silly female voices on the line and dumped him right then and there.
And actually going to the party hadn’t seemed stupid—not until he’d stepped into the forest and felt the moon’s call on his blood. He’d answered that call automatically, embracing the sweet savage pleasure and heat of sinew and bone changing and re-form
ing with the power of the beast. He’d meant to show up long enough to tell the twins—and any of the other numerous females he’d pleasured—that he was officially taking himself off the market. He meant to make a clean split with his old life, so that he could begin his new one. Earlier that day he’d even gone online and looked up the Denver Art Institute. Then he’d actually begun a sketch. Just a woman’s eyes. They were green and framed with thick blonde lashes and soft laugh lines.…