Alix (The Coven's Grove Chronicles #1)

by Virginia Hunter

  “They look awesome.” He smiled. “Looks like I’ve come to the right place.

  “Thanks.” She gestured to the curtains that concealed her workstation, trying not to blush even more. “Let’s get you settled.”

  Alix pulled back the fabric barrier to her work area, only to find Sam sitting on her stool. She was a petite thing with sandy-blond hair. Piercings adorned her ears, nose, lower lip, and a few other choice areas, or so she had said.

  “Hey,” Sam purred. “Need any help?”

  Alix gave her a flat look. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

  Mr. Handsome stepped in behind Alix, and looked around her workstation that was now too cramped thanks to Sam. “Where do you want me?”

  A devilish grin made its way across Sam’s face.

  “Just over there,” Alix said, before Sam could respond. She pointed to the padded table that could convert into a really uncomfortable chair. Alix moved so she was facing her oh-so-aggravating co-worker, and stood to where Mr. Handsome couldn’t see their exchange. She mimed the words “GET OUT” and jabbed her thumb toward the exit.

  Sam continued to smile wickedly, but got up and moseyed to the partition. Her narrow hips swayed with an intentional allure as she walked—no doubt for Mr. Handsome’s benefit.

  Alix was tempted to kick her right in the backside, but instead she followed Sam to the curtains so that “her” client couldn’t witness the display.

  Sam came to a halt just on the other side of Alix’s partition. “Be sure to let me know if you need anything,” she said loudly, tip-toeing to look over Alix’s shoulder. “I’ll be right out here.”

  Alix gave the girl a sardonic smile, and then promptly pulled the curtains closed. “Sorry about that,” she said, as she turned back to Mr. Handsome.

  He leaned against the table with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Cords of muscle rippled along his forearms, as he chuckled. “That’s okay. I’m Troy by the way.”

  “Alix,” she replied a little too quickly. Dammit, dammit, dammit. He’s just another client, she scolded herself. Just an average, deliciously hot client. Not trusting herself to say anything other than her name, she went to her stool and sat. Focus. On. The job. She fumbled through the drawers of her desk, and found some paper, and her favorite pen. “So, have you done this before?”

  “Nope.”

  Alix rotated her stool around slowly, “Really?”

  He nodded, “First time.”

  She snickered. “Okay. Not what I expected.”

  Amusement touched his voice, as he asked, “You’re not gonna hold that against me are you?”

  “Nah, I’ll go easy on ya,” Alix smiled. The tension she had been harboring moments before eased. “Do you have a place in mind?” She looked him over, and blood rushed to her cheeks, as she eyed his hips.

  “Yeah.” Troy pointed to the center of his chest, “Right here.”

  That works too. She’d have to practically climb on top of him to work. Well, not completely true, but that’s how she’d go about doing it. “Sounds great. How big?”

  He put his hands together to form a circle roughly the size of a small cheeseburger. “About like that.”

  Good. That size would take her a while to finish.

  Now that she knew how much space she had to work with, she began sketching out a design. She started with a Celtic triskele embedded in a circle, and then added some ornamentation of her own. She found it hard to concentrate, as she sketched with her pen. The small confines of her work area, combined with Troy’s close proximity, caused his powerfully sexy scent to permeate her little world. Her fingers twitched every few seconds, but finally she finished enough of the graphic, and held up the piece of paper so he could see it. “I can add more detail while I’m working on you, if you want.”

  He leaned forward to look at her work. “Wow. Yeah, I like that.”

  “Cool,” she beamed.

  He playfully arched a brow. “Is it ‘protective’?”

  She laughed. “Yeah, it’s a Celtic symbol of protection. Should cover your needs.”

  Troy nodded, satisfied. “What now?”

  A little smirk touched Alix’s lips. “Now you take off your shirt.”

  He flashed his pearly whites in an ear-to-ear grin. “Ah, time for the fun to begin.”

  “Yes indeed,” she replied, as she rolled her stool over to the sink.

  Troy stepped away from the table, untucking his shirt. He took hold of the bottom hem, and peeled the tight fitting garment off in one fluid motion. The pendant lights above cast deep shadows across his chiseled body. Delectably sculpted abs contracted as he moved. The sensual lines of definition found on his hips, delved into his low-cut jeans, teasing the eye with the promise of more wonders to be found below. Knots of muscle tightened across his back and shoulders, as he twisted to climb up onto the table.

  A faint gasp echoed through the curtained room.

  For a split second Alix thought that it had come from her. But then she realized she had been biting down on her lower lip while watching Troy undress, as if she’d never seen a man take his shirt off before. Such a sound couldn’t possibly have come from her. She looked around the room.

  A spot in the curtains closest to the front swayed with strength far beyond what mere heating from the vent might have caused. A familiar, drawn-out whistle followed, leaving no doubts as to whom was responsible.

  Alix narrowed her eyes. “Sam, could you take the cat outside? She’s makin’ a lot of noise. She might be in heat or something.”

  A faint, dejected “fine” came through the curtain, and the sound of Sam’s hard-bottomed shoes sliding across the linoleum faded, as she shuffled away.

  Troy laughed. “Have I become a problem?”

  Alix shook her head. “Nah, you’re fine. We just get a little punchy this late at night.” She quickly washed her hands in the sink, pulled on some rubber gloves, and grabbed a new disposable razor out of its packaging. “All right, I need you to lay back. Time to shave.”

  Troy stretched out on the table, his athletic body beckoning to every wanting part of her. Again, she was reminded of how long it had been since she’d felt the touch of a man—a man that she wanted to be touched by.

  Alix cleared her throat, as she rolled up to him. “Ready?”

  “Yep.”

  She looked down at the two slabs of pectoral muscle that sloped downward in the center, creating a tight ravine filled with hair. Swallowing, Alix began to lather a dot of shaving gel into the light ginger field on his chest.

  He flexed involuntarily from the initial coolness of the gel. The once smooth plains of his chest became mountains of taut muscle. He chuckled, “No easing into that part.”

  “Sorry,” Alix replied dryly, continuing to rub his chest. Tiny beads of sweat started to form on the small of her back, as the constant contact and sensual motion of her hand drove her thoughts into places that weren’t appropriate for the workplace. This is going to be the end of me, she thought. “So what brought you into the shop?” she asked, desperate to find something to corral her mind back into focus.

  “Heard this place was the best.” He paused and thought for a moment, then said, “I’m going out of town for a few days. For some reason I just felt…I don’t know. I just felt I needed a little extra something. To cover my bases, ya know.”

  Given Alix’s past, she knew exactly what he meant. “Yeah, I get it.” Finished with the gel, she continued to shave the area, being careful not to damage the smooth skin. “So, where you’re going, is it dangerous?”

  “A little. But I suppose there’s an element of danger every time I suit up for the job.”

  “You a cop?” Alix didn’t peg him for a crime fighter, but who could tell these days.

  “No, an EMT.” He shifted a bit when she lifted the razor, causing those beautiful muscles to roll all along his body. “Most of the time we get called to deal with a heart attack, or somebody chokin’ on a spoon or someth
ing. But every so often, there’s a domestic violence call—that’s when it gets a little hairy.”

  “I bet.” She dropped the razor in the sink, and got a damp wash rag to wipe the excess shaving cream off of his chest. A bit of alcohol to place the stencil, and she was ready for the iron. “You expecting to see a lot of that where you’re going?”

  “Yeah. You heard about the riots further south, right?”

  Suddenly, it all came together for Alix. She had seen on the news about a boy getting killed in some kind of gunfight, and the neighborhood rising up in retaliation. “Oh yeah, you goin’ down there, huh?”

  He nodded. “I figure there’s gonna be some bad stuff happening. But work asked for volunteers to give those guys a hand, I couldn’t say no.”

  Great. A decent, hot guy. Alix shook her head. Not the kind of guy she usually went for, which begged the question: Why was he affecting her so much? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. He was probably going to his death, and she’d never see him again. All on account of being a caring human being. Well, I can do something about the danger part at least, she thought ruefully. The other facet of her gift, the part she rarely used on people, was that she could infuse power into the images she imprinted. She need only think on a purpose the imprint was to perform, as she released it into the world. She wouldn’t normally empower a tat like this, but Troy was an exception in her book, and deserved the extra protection she could provide.

  “Okay, time for the real deal.” Alix clicked on the machine, and rolled her stool up beside Troy. She’d have to use the iron for a little while, or it’d be kind of suspicious. The imprints she created appeared pretty much instantaneously.

  “How long have you been doing this?” Troy asked, as Alix began the outline of a circle on his chest.

  “A couple of years now,” she said. She was enjoying the fact that she could stare at his body without looking like some sort of deranged perv.

  “You any good?”

  Alix barked a laugh. “A little late for that question, cowboy.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

  A smile made its way across her face. “Don’t sweat it. I haven’t had any complaints...so far.”

  “Wonderful,” Troy replied, mirth still in his voice. “You like it, or is it just a job?”

  “I love it,” Alix answered honestly. “The hours could be different though.”

  “I hear that.”

  Alix etched on him for some time, savoring the continued banter. Eventually it came time to do the finishing touches. She’d have to touch him for her gift to work, and it had to be an actual touch, not just pressure through a rubber glove.

  She slid back and set the iron down. “I need to check a few details, and then we’re done.”

  Troy frowned. “Too bad, I was enjoying our conversation.”

  Alix had been enjoying it too, and the fact that he felt the same made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. She pulled off her gloves, got up off the stool, and stepped back over to him. “You’re such a charmer,” she teased, while looking over her work.

  He grinned, “I aim to please.”

  Alix smirked back at him, “Yeah, I’m sure you do.”

  “No, really.” Some of the sarcasm faded from his voice. “I’m havin’ a good time.” The light reflected off of his crystal blue eyes, and uncovered the sincerity hidden just behind their protective facade. “Maybe we could go to dinner sometime.”

  Holy shit, he just asked me out. Her spirits soared. She couldn’t believe he’d just asked her out. She raised her brows, stalling for some witty reply to manifest, and break through her raging emotions.

  Nothing.

  Afraid that the moment would pass before she could respond, Alix blurted, “Okay.” She closed her eyes in humiliation. Okay?! Good God, no wonder you’re single, she thought, feeling the fool.

  Troy released a deep breath. “I thought you were going to tell me to get lost there for a second.”

  Alix looked at him with hooded eyes. “I considered it, but I’m not ready to see you cry just yet,” she said, in an attempt to regain some of her dignity. She stepped over to her desk, and grabbed a business card. Taking her favorite pen, she jotted her number down on the back. She took the card over to the table, and slid it into one of Troy’s front pockets. “Now shut up so I can finish this.”

  He closed his mouth and smiled with a smug expression on his face.

  Alix pursed her lips, but made no further gibes. She focused instead on the unfinished tattoo, and what it was meant to be; a shield that would protect its bearer from harm. She placed her hands firmly on Troy’s chest.

  Bolts of warmth suddenly shot through her palms, up into her body. Her skin tingled with pleasure, and she almost lost her footing as the sensual, prickling sensation reached her core.

  Her eyes widened. What the hell?! She thought. That’s never happened before.

  Sweat beaded along her exposed skin, as she fought off the urge to climb on top of Troy, and yield to the pent-up desires within her. She clenched her jaw, and forced the maddening titillation to the back of her consciousness. It was time to use her gift, while she still had a moment of clarity.

  Alix focused on the image she was about to imprint. The swirling designs of the tattoo became crisp in her mind’s eye. She filled her thoughts with heavy shields, bulwarks, flame resistant suits, anything that would provide protection against bodily harm. Once her mind strained from the effort of containing so many ideas, she released her thoughts, and the corresponding image of protection. The Celtic triskele floated through Alix’s moistening eyes, down onto Troy’s heaving chest.

  A sound akin to an exploding transformer, shook the room as the imprint erupted.

  Alix was blown back into her desk, and tumbled to the ground. The table Troy laid on flipped through the air, taking out one of the curtain partitions, and crashed against the far wall. Sam’s trailing scream of surprise tapered off into a breathy gasp. The lights above Alix’s workstation sparked from their broken bulbs, creating the only sound in an otherwise eerie silence.

  Alix struggled to her feet, ears still ringing. Jesus Christ. “Troy. Sam. Are you guys okay?”

  “What in the hell are you two doing back here!” Sam yelled in exasperation. Her blonde head peaked around one of the partitions that still remained in place. Her eyes widened at the destruction. “Hank’s gonna be pissed.”

  Alix ignored her shaken friend. She was glad to see Sam uninjured, but Troy had yet to respond. “Troy, say something!” Alix stumbled across the room.

  A deep groan issued from behind the wrecked table. Troy’s hand came into view, as he reached up, and grabbed the debris nearby. With a grunt, he hauled himself to his feet. The tangled, ginger locks on his head were standing every which way, while the hairs on his body stood on end. He teetered for a second, before straightening to his full height.

  Alix gasped as she approached.

  The symbol of protection she had imprinted onto his chest was smoking. The crisp scent of pine and jasper flooded the air around them. Through the small tendrils of smoke, the tattoo glowed like the coals of a freshly billowed fire. Alix looked on, stunned, as the bright embers slowly dulled to a cool black.

  “What the hell?” Troy mumbled, as he staggered.

  Alix reached out to steady him, but he pulled away. Moisture came to her eyes, as she saw the shock and fear in his. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

  Troy said nothing. He shuffled around her, and backed toward the door.

  She let him go. There were no words to explain what had happened. No amount of soothing to ease the terror she had seen in him. No way to get him back.

  And then, with the jingle of the front bell, he was gone.

  Alix stuffed another handful of potato chips into her mouth. The crunchy, salted disks of heaven did nothing to ease her melancholy. She’d already gone through a tray of cut veggies and dip, a giant Movietime Pretzel, a package of mini-cho
colate candy bars, and two twenty-ounce cups of soda. After all of that, she still couldn’t shake the gloominess. Sam had even come over a few times with tequila and ice cream, but her friend’s best efforts to bring cheer, had proven to be just as much of a failure.

  Alix’s thick, flannel pajamas, and heavy blanket, were littered with the fallen crumbs of her starchy victims. She huddled deep within her cushy sofa, watching the news on the 65” flat-screen TV she’d bought just two days ago. The thing was way too big for her small studio apartment, but it’d been a rough couple of weeks, and she figured she deserved a present. The small kitchen remained as cluttered as it had always been. While the door to her one-and-only bedroom, displayed the multitude of clipped illustrations and designs she’d gathered over the past couple of years. The walls of the living/dining area were reddish brick, and the floor consisted of hardwood planks, worn from years of use.

  Sam had been right about Hank being pissed after Alix had blown up the shop. The old biker couldn’t even speak at first sight of the place. Only his mustache had moved, twitching madly, while he soaked it all in. The tirade that followed had driven Alix to tears. She’d run from the shop, and didn’t return until Sam came by a couple days later to say that Hank wanted Alix back in the shop pronto. It was the old man’s way of saying, “It’s all right kid, sorry for tearin’ ya a new one.” The relief Alix had felt couldn’t be put into words.

  The days that followed her return to the tattoo parlor had actually been booming. Apparently the news stations got wind of the “electrical explosion”, and did a little piece on the incident. Hank had been bummed when he saw the report on the nine o’clock news, thinking it would scare off customers, but just the opposite had happened.

  Who knew that the types of people looking to get tattoos could be danger seekers, Alix thought sardonically. Everybody that came into the shop wanted to get a tat while sitting on the table that had flown across the room. Even the cops had shown up. One of them ended up getting a Notre Dame tat of the little fighting Irish guy on his forearm.