by Martha Woods
He nodded slowly. "Ok... And how would we do that? I thought there was no way to tell unless they were actively one hundred percent supernatural? How are we going to figure out what her previous generation, at best, contained?"
She nodded, pursing her lips. "That's the tough part. A few researchers thought that maybe there were certain tests that you could perform that could narrow it down, but no one's found a definite way to tell each type yet."
Michael smirked. "And I suppose that we're just such a brilliant team that we're going to be the ones to figure it out?"
She pushed him lightly. "Well, with my brains and your... dedication... I don't think it's so ridiculous, do you?"
"I'm not sure I like the way that you paused." He narrowed his eyes, the smirk still on his face. "If I didn't know any better I'd get the impression you thought I was stupid."
"Not stupid!" She held her hands up. "Just... not as smart as I am."
He pushed his chair out, circling around her before she could even blink. His arms were on either side of her, clutching the desk tightly as he leaned in, trapping her. "Careful," He growled, "I might get some hurt feelings if you keep this up."
She smirked up at him. "Oh yeah? Big Bad Wolf afraid of little old me?"
He started to lean in, eyes firmly locked with hers, when he suddenly stopped. Blushing, he put a hand over his mouth, moving back slightly. "Sorry I... I know we're still trying to figure some things out and... I dunno it was just..."
She stopped him. "Michael, it's alright. It's just... a confusing time I guess. Lot of feelings to work out."
He nodded, hyper aware of the heat pooling in his stomach. He turned to the door. "I'll just... I'll be back in about ten minutes."
"Hold on!" Hayley grabbed his sleeve, stopping him in his tracks. When he looked back at her with his eyebrow raised, she sighed, "We can... take care of that here right?"
His eyebrows all but shot into his hairline. "Take care of it? But... I thought you just said..."
"I said that there are a lot of feelings to work out. Feelings are complicated, this sort of thing isn't." She chuckled, "Besides, do you think you were the only one who was going to have to go and have some private time?"
He smiled. "I guess that would have been pretty cruel of me huh?"
"Incredibly..." She leaned in, their noses almost close enough to touch. "How are you going to make it right?"
He surged in, letting his lips speak in a way that words wouldn't do justice for. Their lips kneaded together, Hayley's arms weaving around his neck as she moaned, sucking his tongue into her mouth. They stepped backward, her back thumping against the edge of the desk as his hands grabbed at her hips. He lifted her up easily, depositing her on the edge with a tiny creak, their lips and hands never leaving each other's bodies. She pulled back slowly, her breathing still labored from lack of air. She looked up at him. "We have to make this quick, we've still got a lot of work to do."
He nodded frantically. "Yeah, yeah of course. Don't want it getting complicated, we'll just get it over and done with."
She bit her lip, hand coming down to pop the button on his pants. Their mouths merged back together as her hand slid underneath his underwear, gently cradling what he was so desperate to take care of. She freed him from his prison, the resulting groan in her mouth telling in the relief he felt. Working her hand back and forth along his length, she felt each of his powerful inches twitching under her attentions. It caused a surge of pride through her body, knowing that she could reduce this powerful man to a whimpering mess with the lightest of touches.
Michael wasn't one to be bested so easily however, his own hand cupping her through her pants and catching her unaware, his confident, deliberate touch making her buck her hips in want. Finally growing impatient, she lowered his pants completely, before leaning back and doing the same, baring herself to him with no shame whatsoever. He was far from complaining, cupping generous handfuls of his behind as he advanced, his hard length lined up perfectly with her womanhood. She traced a finger along his cheek, the gesture coming dangerously close to romantic before her other hand lowered, tracing around his back and pushing him further into herself. Hayley threw her head back and moaned, the feeling of him stretching her insides utterly rapturous in its pleasure and completely maddening in its slow pace.
"Please..." She ran a finger over his chest, feeling the defined muscle underneath. "More..."
He upped his pace, hips connecting with hers in an increasingly frantic pace, her body rocking back against the surface of the desk from the force of his movements. She was speechless, her mouth hanging open in a silent moan as she slammed her hips back in kind.
They stared into each other's eyes, both taken aback by the intensity that they saw present. Hayley stopped him briefly, turning around and welcoming him back into herself before they could lose the feeling of pleasure. Without the distraction of their ever-present feelings, he could focus on giving her what she clearly desired, gripping her hips with enough force to bruise and thrusting with reckless abandon. She bit down on her knuckle to stop from screaming out and waking the rest of her coven. Witches seeking out pleasure was far from news, though there would still be eyebrows raised if they got a good look at her partner.
They could feel themselves getting closer to the edge, Michael's thrusts getting sloppier and her body twitching with the first hints of climax. He threaded his hand between her legs, flicking at the sensitive bundle of nerves above their joining point, and that was all she needed. Her body tightened around him, her head being thrown back in a wordless groan. The feeling of her walls squeezing down on him with such intense pressure was too much for him to bear, only able to thrust once more before burying himself to the hilt. He shot his release deep into her, her shuddering climax milking every last drop from his body before both collapsed against each other.
Hayley shuffled over, granting him some space to lay next to her. He wound his arm around her, pulling her back into him and settling his head against the crook of her neck. She stiffened slightly, before gradually relaxing against him. He noticed. "Sorry, is this too... you know...?"
She shook her head. "No! No, it's fine. This is just a... comfort thing, isn't it? Nothing wrong with that."
"I suppose you're right." He breathed in, the vanilla scent of her hair filling his senses. He sighed happily before leaning into her again. "We should probably get back to work huh?"
She didn't answer for a while, grabbing onto his arm and holding tightly. Finally, she answered, almost breathing the words out with how soft her voice was.
"I think we can stay like this a little longer..."
* * *
He sat in the corner booth of the diner, feet up on the seat and a cigarette between his lips. He hadn't lit it yet though, unsure of whether he wanted to be smoking when The Boss arrived for their meeting or not. Deciding it was best to not offend his senses in any way, he reluctantly pocketed it again, finger tapping against the surface of the table as he felt the agitation from addiction building.
The waitress arrived right on time, holding up a fresh pot. "More coffee?"
"Please." He pushed his cup over, watching the ochre liquid fill to the brim. He barely waited for her to stop pouring before his hand shot out, the rim of the cup finding his lips faster than she could even think.
She chuckled, "You nervous about something sugar?"
"No. Why?" He smiled. "Do I look nervous?"
"That's your fifth cup of coffee in twenty minutes." She raised an eyebrow. "Either something is eating at you or you're not human."
He leaned on his hand. "Or maybe you just make really good coffee, did you ever think about that?"
The waitress scoffed, turning to leave. "That'd be the day."
He was about to speak again when he heard the door open. He looked at the entrance, and instantly it was like the temperature of the room dropped. The Boss looked around slowly, taking in every occupant and squaring each of them up, none of th
em missing the crawling feeling they got under his watchful gaze. Seemingly satisfied, he grunted, walking to the corner booth where his second in command had planted himself in wait.
"Grayson. How are you?" Even a simple greeting felt like it could frost glass, though Grayson at least knew why that was. When he said, 'How are you', he didn't mean how was Grayson's day going, or how he was enjoying the weather. He was asking if he had what he had dragged The Boss out to a diner in the middle of the day for, what they were in this town for in the first place.
He was asking if he had any information about where his son might be.
Grayson nodded. "I've got the boys working a couple angles." He looked around the diner, though the other diners had the good sense to completely ignore what the two men were talking about. He reached into his bag, placing a set of photographs along the table, tapping each one. "I have a feeling someone in the police force might know something, your son kinda... leaves an impression wherever he goes."
"My son is or was an idiot Grayson, you can say it." He looked over the photos, his eyes were drawn to the last one in the set. He tapped the photo. "Who is this?"
"Him?" Grayson shrugged, "He's new apparently, showed up out of nowhere and got a job with the department, been working there a little while now." He searched his mind, "Think his name's Cayden something."
He hummed in thought, "Put someone on him personally, I have a feeling he knows something. I want to know what it is."
Grayson grinned. "Way ahead of you Boss, Rick's following him. Guy comes out of nowhere and settles in some backwoods place like this? No way he's not hiding something."
The Boss nodded. "Good work, that's why I trust you with this." He cleared his throat, "Did you get any answers out of the others your men grabbed?"
He shook his head. "Not really, one or two confirmed that he came through town but nothing more than that. The rest were hopeless." He waved his hand nonchalantly. "Don't worry, we got rid of them."
"Good, last thing we need is the law breathing down our necks on this. I'm losing patience as it is already."
"Just how you like it, quick, clean, no signs." He leaned back in his seat, satisfied. "No one is going to have any problems with us Boss, trust me."
"If you say so." He clicked his fingers, Grayson taking that as his cue to put the photos away. The waitress approached slowly, aware just as everyone else was how... off this man seemed.
Even so, in spite of her apprehension she put on a smile and pulled out her pad. "Hey hun, ready to order now?"
The Boss turned to look at her, a chill running down her spine as she saw his eyes rake over every inch of her body. He grunted, a small smile creasing the corner of his mouth as he saw exactly what he expected. She was afraid of him, yet she insisted on being professional. That was something worthy of respect in his opinion.
"I am, Miss...?"
"Sandra."
"Sandra. Well Sandra, I think I would like the eggs and toast, extra sausage on the side." He looked over at Grayson. "How's the coffee here?"
He inclined his head. "Pretty good actually."
"Pretty good?" He looked back up at Sandra. "In that case, be sure to keep the coffee coming as well."
She nodded. "Eggs on toast, extra sausage and coffee. Anything else?"
"I'm sure if I desire anything else I can just call for you." His pale eyes almost sparkled, and she'd never felt the urge to run stronger than she had then. Instead, she flipped her pad closed, putting on a customary smile as she nodded at him.
"I'll go and get your meal started, it'll be here in no time." She walked away, feeling his eyes burning a hole in her back with every step she took.
The Boss chuckled, "She's made of something strong. I'll have to leave a good tip after the meal."
"Coffee is pretty good, I guess I'll do the same."
He held up his hand. "The food doesn't matter when you're tipping, it never does. Tipping is for the service, not the meal, the waitress doesn't control the quality of the food." He shook his head. "No, tipping is for how much the waitress tried, how attentive they are to your needs and most importantly, what sort of character they possess."
"So what? You go over twelve percent because they seem like nice people?"
"You're misunderstanding." The Boss sighed, "Twelve percent is the minimum, but I go over for people who really seem... extraordinary. People I'm glad that I sat here and let talk to me, even if it was just for five minutes."
"And what's so extraordinary about her?"
"You saw her, look around. All the people in this diner are afraid of me, I haven't even needed to say anything and they already fear me. They won't even look me in the eye." He smiled. "But she does."
Realization clicked in Grayson's mind. "Ohhh, I see. She's obviously afraid of you, but she's still acting like a professional."
"Exactly, she holds herself together better than half the wannabe wise guys we deal with on a daily basis. I could probably bring her into The Family and she'd take to it like a fish to water." He shrugged. "It's probably because she's had this job for a while, you deal with some strange people in this line of work."
Grayson wisely elected to not say what immediately sprang to mind, instead taking another sip of his coffee. "So aside from testing the mafia potential of the local waitresses, what do you have planned for the rest of the day?"
"Me?" He shifted his shoulders, feeling the stiff muscle groan under the attention. "I think I'll go see the sights, introduce myself properly to the locals. No sense in coming to a town like this and remaining an anonymous face is there?"
"Ah yes," Grayson chuckled, "Ever the people person."
His meal arrived not long after, Sandra not even flinching under his unwavering stare. The sight of it only made him smile more, amused at the thought that some waitress in the middle of nowhere had the most courage out of anyone he'd met in weeks. He didn't speak as he ate, all his attention focused solely on the food in front of him, savoring every bite as he went.
Sandra wasn't sure what to think of him, whether he was being genuinely intimidating or if he was just strange that way, but when she went to clear the plates long after he had left and found a three-hundred-dollar tip? That just made him seem even stranger.
Chapter 2
Cayden grunted as he swung at the bag, fists connecting solidly and vibrations shooting up his arms. Hit after hit shot forth, the bag shaking on its hook as he alternated left and right, high and low, teeth bared and sweat dripping down his forehead as he continued his onslaught. He thought over each of his failures over the last few months, the fight against Liam... The torture he was subjected to by the coven... With an almighty roar, he drove his fist once more into the bag, the hook in the roof keeping it secured groaning with the strain as the bag swung back against the wall.
He leaned his head against the bag, breathing hard with the stress he'd put his body through. "I need... to be... stronger." He was a hunter, he was supposed to have been able to beat someone like Liam, he should have been able to defend himself from a group of witches jumped up on a power craze, but he couldn't. He sighed, "What kind of excuse for a hunter am I?"
He threw his shirt off as he walked to the bathroom, sore muscles stretching under the skin as he turned on the shower. As he stood under the water, feeling it beat down upon his back, he looked down at his bruised knuckles, opening and closing his hand to get the feeling back. He shook his head at his arrogance, it wasn't a hunter’s job to kill, to beat everything they came across. It usually came down to that, sure, but it wasn't the most important part of their job.
A hunter’s job was to protect. The weak, the innocent, the entire reason they took up arms was to defend those who could not defend themselves. Their strength was only good for the protection of others, without that duty they would be little better than thugs with a vendetta. He closed his eyes, thinking over the friends and allies he had gained that he would never have even considered a year ago. Skylar, Michael, Hay
ley... Farah... Hell, even he and Liam had mostly buried the hatchet, they would never be friends but... maybe they could have each other's backs. He nodded to himself, that was his purpose now, to defend those close to him and let them come to his aid as well, not to be so arrogant as to assume that he was capable of solving every problem and conflict himself.
He groaned as he stepped out of the water, the heat having done wonders for his tired muscles. Stretching a shirt over his built frame, he ran a hand through his short hair, tiny drops of water flicking off as he made his way to the lounge. He was about to sit down and enjoy his day off when he noticed his phone vibrating on the arm of the couch next to him.
Cayden picked up the phone, seeing Farah's name on the screen. He smiled, hitting the answer button and holding it to his ear. "Hey you."
He could hear her smile on the other side of the line. "Hey yourself, how are you going?"
"Well you know, I can't complain. Feeling a little better now though."
"Flatterer. Are you busy today?"
He shook his head. "No, I'm completely free all day. Why's that?" He grinned. "I'm guessing you want to see me?"
"I'm starting to reconsider it now, but yes." She chuckled, "Do you want to have lunch with me? I figured we could talk some things over."
Cayden smiled to himself. "I'd like that very much, where do you want to meet?"
"There is a little coffee house in the middle of town, it's small but you can't really miss it." Farah paused, and he could tell that she was blushing to herself. "I'm really looking forward to it." The line closed.
He chuckled. "Yeah Farah, so am I."
* * *
He walked through the streets, the smell of the forest drifting through the air and gently hitting his senses. He breathed deep, the cool air waking him up even further as he went, the rush of endorphins from his work out and the anticipation of seeing Farah putting a perk in his step. The locals went about their business, none sparing him a glance as he made his way past, and he couldn't help but think of what their lives must be like.