Eighth Wand

by December Quinn

  “Yes, yes. After that we go upstairs and start looking.” Pru settled opposite him at the little kitchen breakfast table. “The attic is huge, I don’t know if we’ll find it in time for you.”

  “We must. Besides, if we don’t find it now, it will glow when the sun sets and we’ll find it then.”

  “So why not just wait?”

  “Because I’ll feel better when I have it.” He looked dubiously at the sandwich again. “How do I eat this?”

  “Just pick it up and eat it. Haven’t you ever had a sandwich before?”

  “But won’t things fall out the sides?”

  “Royd…just eat the sandwich.” Strange. An hour ago, she’d been afraid to even talk to him, but now… Maybe it was something about watching a man shave and brush his teeth—he’d brought a few things with him in a little pack—that made a woman feel secure? Almost like he really belonged to her.

  It was hard to reconcile the cozy domesticity of the morning with the knowledge that as soon as he had what he wanted, he’d be out the door and out of this world. Sure, a lot of men did that the morning after, but very few of them had to do it or people would die. It made her feel at least a little better.

  His eyes lit up as he chewed. “This is good.”

  She nodded. All men loved fried egg sandwiches. She’d never met one who didn’t. It was lucky she even had the eggs; normally she didn’t, but she’d baked some cookies the week before and there was no point in throwing out unexpired food even if you knew you wouldn’t use it, right?

  She knew one day her laziness and procrastination would pay off.

  “So, Prudence, where is the rest of your family?”

  “In Seattle—on the other side of the country,” she added. “It’s a long way away.”

  “Why are they not here with you? They didn’t want to come?”

  She shrugged. “They have lives there. My sister is married and has kids, my mom is married again and her husband has some health issues. Neither of them wanted to move all the way back out here with me.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  She thought for a minute. “You know what? It really doesn’t that much. I mean, I’d like to see them more than I do, but it’s okay. I know they’re happy and have their own lives and I have mine.”

  “And are you happy?”

  “I’m not unhappy.”

  “But you’re not happy.” He finished his sandwich and picked up the second one she’d made for him.

  Her own toast sat almost untouched in front of her. Somehow he’d managed to zero in on the one question she could never really answer. Was she happy? Could she ever be? It felt like there was a part of her missing sometimes, like the happiness gene had mutated and shrunk and where her happiness should be was a hole.

  “What is happiness, really? Some people say happiness is the absence of pain, some say it’s a warm blanket, who knows? I’m here. I don’t feel like killing myself, so I guess I’m happy enough. I’m content.”

  “And you’re satisfied with that?”

  “Why are we talking about this?”

  He shrugged. “What else should we talk about?”

  “How about you? Are you happy?”

  “No.”

  She blinked. “Okay.”

  “You asked. I answered. What is wrong with that?”

  “It just…I’m just surprised.”

  He swallowed the glass of orange juice she’d given him in one long swallow. “I don’t know why. I am an honest man. You asked if I was happy, I told you.”

  “But…why aren’t you happy?”

  “Why should I be?”

  “Well, I mean…you got picked to come here and get the wand back, so I guess your superiors or whatever must think highly of you. You’re, ah, obviously in good shape physically. I imagine you have friends or…” she trailed off. Did he? She didn’t actually know anything about him.

  So why did she feel like she did?

  He watched her carefully, his eyes inscrutable. “What do you think my life is like, Prudence?”

  “I—I don’t know.” But she did know. She knew just as she knew what her own life was, saw him come home to empty rooms, saw him eat a solitary meal. “I think you’re alone a lot,” she whispered.

  He nodded. “Just as you are. And does that make you happy?”

  “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps because I am leaving, because I won’t see you every day. Perhaps I wanted someone to talk to and you get to be the one simply because I can talk to you without fear you’ll spread my words amongst my acquaintance.”

  “Do people—well, faeries—really do that?” What kind of shitheads were the Fae, anyway?

  “Some of them.”

  “And you don’t want to look weak.”

  “No, I do not.” His gaze caught hers. Just as it had the day before, the night before, something twisted in her stomach, something that felt like belonging and sadness and loneliness and made her heart swell a little bit with happiness at the same time.

  “So I’m like your short therapy break or something?”

  He reached across the table and took her hand. “You’re someone like I’ve never met before,” he said.

  “Of course I am, I can’t turn plastic to silver with a few pretty words the way the other women you know can.” She tried to make a joke of it, but she knew before the words even left her mouth it wouldn’t work. He wouldn’t allow it.

  “Perhaps I can talk to you the way I can because we are alike, because our worlds are different but our souls are the same.”

  “I don’t believe in soul mates,” she managed to say.

  “Neither do I.”

  “And we’re never going to see each other again.”

  “No.”

  “So what’s the point of all this?” She felt rooted to her seat, her throat tight. What was happening here couldn’t be real, couldn’t be true. Somehow, in a few hours, in a few short words, she’d opened herself up more than she had in years, maybe than she ever had, and had been given that same kind of openness in return. And she knew that no matter what happened, she would never forget it.

  “Who knows what purpose the gods have?”

  “I don’t and I don’t presume,” she said, deliberately bringing herself back to reality and looking at the clock. “And we need to get upstairs and start looking now.”

  “Don’t be afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid of anything. I just want to get as much done as possible before it gets too hot up there.”

  She grabbed the dishes with shaking hands and put them in the sink, pretending she didn’t feel his steady gaze on her as she moved.

  “You are afraid,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear. “And so am I.”

  * * * * *

  Dust motes floated through the air like snowflakes in the shafts of sunlight streaming through the dirty windows. The attic smelled of sawdust and polish, of sunlight and silence. Bare floorboards creaked under their respectful feet.

  “It’s huge.” The room seemed to recoil from Royd’s voice. “I did not realize it would be so big, so full.”

  Prudence nodded. “I’ve only glanced up here once or twice since—well, since I moved in. Gran came up once every couple of months to check for mice and broken windows and stuff, but she didn’t keep anything of sentimental value up here. At least, she said she didn’t.”

  It wasn’t possible that Gran could have invaded the Faerie realm and stolen something from Royd’s people, was it? Gran never stole so much as a Brach’s candy from the honor kiosk in the grocery store. She’d always told Pru how important honesty was, how nothing could be gained from doing the wrong thing, and it was a black mark on your spirit besides.

  “It seems she did not tell you everything.”

  Hearing her own thoughts echoed in such a way didn’t make Pru feel any better. Her brows drew together as she pushed past him, ignoring the feel of his still-
shirtless torso brushing against her bare arm. “Thanks.”

  He grabbed her. “Don’t be upset. I meant only that everyone has secrets.”

  “Yes, but this isn’t just a little secret, like dyeing her hair. This is kind of a big deal. And she knew, she knew about my interests and feelings and she didn’t share this—didn’t tell me…” For the second time in one morning, tears stung her eyes. “She knew about this whole other world and I was her favorite, they named me after her, and she…she…”

  The ache in her chest and throat grew too big for her to talk around, too big for her to think about anything else. She couldn’t even worry about how Royd must see her as she turned into a blubbering wimp in front of him. Again. She’d thought Gran loved her, thought their relationship was special, and Gran hadn’t even cared enough to share a secret like this with her. Worse, she’d left Prudence holding the proverbial bag. She had to know the Fae would discover the loss and come after her. Having been in the Faerie realm, she had to know about the time discrepancy, had to know it wasn’t herself who would face the consequences.

  His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close to the warmth of his chest and the delicious soapy scent of his skin. It really was delicious; he’d used her chocolate-scented shower gel. “Some things are too big to say,” he murmured.

  The words, so kind and true, sent her over the edge. Tears fell down her cheeks and onto the tattoo etched across his chest. His grip on her tightened as she sobbed, all the pain and loneliness of the last few months pouring out of her. All of the shock and sadness at losing the woman who’d loved her more than her own mother. “Mom never bothered much with me, you know? Gran was the one who talked to me, who did things with me. She knew me. I told her everything. I always wondered, even, if Mom moved us out to Seattle because Gran and I were so close and she didn’t want the competition. You know?”

  He didn’t reply, just stroked her hair.

  “And now she’s just gone and she didn’t tell me anything and I feel like it was all a lie.”

  “No, no,” he said. “It was not a lie. It is because of her you have this house, correct? She gave it to you as her last act?”

  “Yes.”

  “So she trusted you with her legacy.”

  She hadn’t thought of it that way before. This house was Gran’s legacy. All of the things she’d collected over the course of her long life—including, apparently, a wand of power stolen from another realm—were in this house, part of it.

  Part of her.

  The ache didn’t disappear. It probably never would. But the new, sharp pain, the feeling of betrayal, lessened. “Thank you.”

  He shifted his weight. The new position brought her hip in direct contact with his pelvis, where his cock hung half-hard in his soft trousers. Now that made her feel much better. She kept her gaze focused on his chest and shifted her hip, brushing against him. His muscles tensed, so slightly that had she not been paying attention she might not have noticed it.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, starting to pull away. How sweet of him to try to give her space after her tears. How sweet and how misguided. She didn’t want space. She had some space that needed filling, in fact.

  Her own brazenness shocked her. Two hours ago, she’d thought this man never wanted anything to do with her again. Now she was contemplating just stripping off her loose sundress and bringing his hands to her breasts, begging him to touch her.

  The sunlight warmed her back as she lifted her face. He watched her, his eyes filled with the thick darkness of arousal. She brushed her hip against his cock again. Fully erect.

  Softly, she kissed his chest, letting her lips trace the lines of his tattoo, running the fingers of her left hand along behind them.

  He caught her hand. “I promised to give you pleasure in exchange for the wand, not the other way around. You do not have to do this.”

  If the evidence of how badly he wanted her hadn’t been pressing into her hip, she might have worried. As it was, she smiled, a wicked little grin that made his eyes widen. “Don’t you want me?”

  He nodded, slowly, as if this was a very important question and he wanted to let her know how seriously he took his response. “I do. I—I do.”

  “Hmm? What were you going to say?” She couldn’t quite reach his earlobe with her teeth, so settled for nibbling at his collarbone. Goose bumps raised across his tawny skin.

  “Nothing.” His head tilted to the right, giving her better access to his throat.

  “No, tell me.” Shivers of excitement ran up her spine. Something about him, about the way his fingers gripped her hips, made her want to dare him, to force him to tell her a secret. A dirty secret.

  How she had come to trust this strange man—or was he even a man, really?—so quickly and so completely? Why did she feel so close to him?

  “I do want you,” he said, his voice hushed and thick with desire. The words made her insides twist and brought a gush of fluid to her already hot pussy. “I want to touch you, everywhere. I want to taste you again. I want to…” he swallowed. “I want to feel your mouth on me.”

  Prudence smiled more widely. She’d never met a man so shy about asking for a little blowjob. Even as she watched, his face reddened and he looked away.

  “You seem afraid to ask.”

  “It is not…it isn’t done by women of the Fae.”

  If there was one thing Pru never suspected she had in her, it was a competitive streak. She’d never needed to win anything, never felt the need to prove herself better than anyone else. But something about the thought of all those stunning Faerie women turning up their noses at what was surely the most beautiful cock she’d ever seen made her drop to her knees and start yanking at the laces of his trousers.

  “You do not have to—”

  “Shut up.” She grinned up at him as she tugged the trousers down, letting that gorgeous cock spring free. Yes. Definitely the most attractive she’d ever seen. Thick and blunt, with a slight upward curve and a satisfying weight when she took it in her palm.

  His breath hissed. This was going to be fun. She’d never been the first one to do anything to a man before.

  Opening her mouth a little to let her hot breath hit his sensitive skin, she put her hands on his hips and urged him backward so he leaned on a stack of boxes. She intended for his legs to get quite weak while she took one for the human women side.

  His hands clenched into fists as she opened her mouth and let her tongue slide out. A bead of moisture rested in the neat slit at the top of his penis. Prudence went for it first, sliding her tongue smoothly across it.

  He made a sound somewhere between pleasure and stubbing a toe, a soft, high-pitched little gasp. Her smile widened and she looked up, meeting his gaze as he stared down at her.

  His thick, dark hair hung in rich curtains around his face, but she still saw his eyes, saw the intensity burning in them. Already a fine sheen of sweat made his skin glow. Whether it was from the heat in the attic gloom or the heat of watching her, she didn’t know, and she didn’t really care. Holding his gaze, she slid her tongue all the way down the underside of his shaft and back up.

  He reached for her, his fingers curled as if to twist in her hair, but stopped.

  “You can touch me,” she said. “You can do anything you want to me.” She started to give him another long lick, then stopped. “Except you can’t force my head down on you. I hate that. When I pull back, you let me pull back.”

  He nodded. “I will not foooooaaaah!”

  Prudence swallowed him without warning, sucking as much of him as she could into her mouth until the head of his cock hit the back of her throat. His taste, clean and sweet, filled her mouth. The weight and width of him felt wonderful. Her pussy buzzed even more and she spread her legs slightly. The thought of touching herself crossed her mind, as it always did when she performed this act, but she’d never been bold enough to before. It was one thing to do it herself on a regular basis. It was even another thing t
o be the proud owner of three vibrators. But to allow a man to watch…she’d never been bold enough for that.

  Slowly she pulled away, then drove herself back down. His hips thrust forward, his hands fisted in her hair, but he did not force her. Good for him, he knew how to listen. She pulled back again, swirling her tongue around his head, winning an even louder groan from him.

  “Amazing,” he murmured. “You are amazing, Prudence.”

  She slid her tongue along the underside of him again, then used it to lift his balls gently in turn, to lick the crease where his thighs met his groin. His knees buckled, then held again.

  He wasn’t holding her hair any longer. His hands gripped the boxes he leaned against, his arms spread so she could see his entire gorgeous body. He looked like an angel, like an otherwordly creature with sunlight playing on his skin, which she guessed was what he was. Prudence couldn’t believe she had one of the Fae here, in her attic, in her mouth. The heat in her pussy threatened to overwhelm her.

  Suddenly he grabbed her, yanking her up to her feet and spinning her around so she bent over the boxes in front of her. “As tempting as it is to explode in your mouth,” he said, in a voice much lower than his usual tones, and without finishing the sentence, he lifted her skirt, tugged down her panties and thrust into her.

  The heat inside her roared like a beast, rising up into her throat and escaping as cry of pure, wanton delight. She’d thought last night she could never experience anything as wonderful as him on top of her, thrusting inside her. Now she knew she could. In this position, his balls thudded softly against her clit with every thrust. She lifted her ass and spread her legs a little more, making it easier for his skin to touch hers.

  He was so hot, the thickness of him searing her insides, his pelvis warm against her behind. Slowly he danced out of her, rolling his hips so his cock touched every inch of her walls, then just as slowly crept back in. She rocked her hips against him, circling in the opposite direction, and the tightening of his fingers on her hips told her how much he liked it.

  Royd slid one hand up her spine and looked down to watch himself sink into her body and reemerge, slick with her moisture. He would never, could never grow tired of that sight. He leaned back a little, bending his legs further to get a better view. All the while, Prudence’s sighs and gentle moans egged him on, told him what he wanted to hear. Her cunt was tight and hot around him, welcoming him with every thrust. He thought of the way those walls had felt around his tongue the night before and almost exploded. He wanted to taste her again, wanted to feel and explore every inch of her body.