Oculus

by S. E. Akers

  Pissing off two monsters in less than a day… Bad news for me.

  Silas gave his hands three tidy smacks. “I knew you were eager,” he remarked with a tart pucker clenching his jaw.

  I shoved the “thank you” I was about to muster straight to the backburner. The sound of his self-righteous voice made me cringe — savior or not.

  I raised my bleary head as high as I could. “You do know silence is golden,” I snarked, barely able to form my words.

  The house steward grinned. “Yes, and speech is silver,” he added and gave the gleaming door a smug stroke.

  Something caught my head as it fell back and then the next thing I knew, a winded Tanner Grey had pulled me into his arms.

  Yet again, my mentor was speechless. Twice in one day had to be a record for the guy who was never at a loss for words (especially fussy ones).

  “What possessed you to take a tour on your own!?!” Tanner demanded.

  “I was following . . . you,” I said sleepily. Tanner lifted my hand as my heavy lids drooped to a close.

  “She’s been bitten,” Silas confirmed.

  With one swift heave, the Amethyst Talisman swooped me into his muscular arms. “Fetch my serpentine and meet me in her room,” he ordered and took off down the hall.

  The sound of running water eventually roused my senses. Tanner climbed into the tub with me, never breaking his hold. Now that I was feeling more alert, I realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. My back felt every ridge of his bare chest — from his pulsating pecs all the way down to the hard ripples of his washboard abs. Talk about some much-needed and heady stimuli.

  A bone from fate, I grinned.

  Silas stepped into the bathroom and handed Tanner the serpentine. “Here you are, Sir.” The house steward retrieved the almost-empty bowl of healing crystals with a shake of his head. “My. My.” He sprinkled its paltry remains into the water. “It’s back to the salt-mines, I see,” he remarked and then strolled out of the room.

  Tanner placed the grayish-green stone in my hand. I wasn’t sure which was easing my ailments more: the rock’s venom-reversing effects or the warmth of his bliss.

  Tanner stroked my head tenderly. “How do you feel?”

  “Groggy,” I replied.

  “Give the stone a few more minutes,” he assured and then gently rested his head against the back of mine. “The poison isn’t fatal to Talismans, but it will knock us on our ass.”

  “The goat head already did that,” I mumbled. “I’ve got the holes to prove it.”

  “Your sense of humor is coming back,” Tanner teased. “That’s a good sign.”

  I tilted my head. “What was that thing?”

  “Ah, there’s an even better sign — questions,” he laughed.

  “Tann—”

  “A chimera,” he said, heeding my request. “A three-headed beast that you would have been properly introduced to when you were trained and ready . . . not on a prowling little girl’s whim to go nosing behind closed doors.”

  “That’ll learn me,” I agreed, but for my own reasons. I recalled it being his across the hall door and his late night stroll that had gotten me into this predicament in the first place. “So what else is held up here in Monster-Manor?”

  Even with my back to him, the amusement beaming from Tanner’s grin was unmistakable. “There may be a few other surprises under lock and key,” he admitted. “But that’s exactly where they’re to stay until I introduce them. Understood?”

  “Do you even have to ask that?” I groaned as I shifted my weight off my throbbing rear.

  “Lesson learned, I suppose,” Tanner agreed, sounding relieved. He turned me around and lifted my snake-maimed hand. I kept my eyes focused on the wound, mainly because every cleansing stroke to my flesh seduced my insides into a frenzied burn. I was weak enough. I wasn’t sure if I could take much more, and I knew he could sense every shred of my desire too.

  Kiss me or kill me, rocketed through my head. Either would ease my ache.

  Tanner mercifully lifted my chin until our eyes locked like magnets. He started to say something when Silas rapped on the door and strutted into the bathroom.

  Ugh. I swear he must have flippin’ radar…

  Our gaze didn’t falter, not until the house steward parked his shiny loafers directly between us and dumped the entire bowl of salt into the tub with a splashing “plop”. Most of it smacked me in the face.

  “Feeling more lucid, Ms. Wallace?” Silas asked.

  I swiped my eyes. “I am now.”

  “Excellent,” Silas beamed. “Oh, I found this.” Mr. Efficient held out the tin filled with imp salve. “This will help clear those nagging traces of Round-One. Might as well tend to those as long as you are scrubbing off Round-Two.”

  I took the healing ointment and shifted my gaze as politely as I could. “Thank you,” I said. “And for pulling me out of there too. I guess I was lucky you came along when you did.”

  “Yes, very lucky indeed,” Silas assured and shored it up with a couple of slow nods.

  Funny thing, his remark seemed more directed to Tanner. Whatever. Even if he’d done it strictly on behalf of his employer’s orders to “keep the guests alive”, could I honestly find a bone to pick with any rescuer? Even him?

  Tanner rose from the tub. “You’re well on your way,” he professed with a subdued smile and nodded to my clothes. “You need to get more comfortable in there anyway.” My gaze trailed his departing swagger to the doorway where he turned around to say, “I am glad you’re here . . . and safe.” My only response was a doe-eyed smile as he disappeared.

  “Is there anything else you need, Ms. Wallace?” Silas probed.

  “Just some privacy,” I assured.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” the house steward concurred with a brusque point. He grabbed the fancy handles on the double-doors. “And I shall make every effort to ensure all the privacy you need during your stay here, and then some . . . especially when it comes to licking your own wounds,” he added with a wink and then directed the two slabs to a jolting close.

  I wasn’t sure which was wider — the pop of my eyes or the gape of my mouth. A blinding conclusion surfaced just as swift and fiery as my stare. He didn’t like me—not one itty-bitty little bit—and nothing, not even being civil could blast a hole in his arrogant armor of non-stop wisecracks. But what on earth had I done to offend him? My mind raced in search of clues. Something sure had his snotty little suspenders in a twist. My mere presence? Maybe? One thing was certain: even with my thick-skin, this easy-going gal could only take so much. And that was saying a lot after living with Charlotte for eighteen years. She was family. I was pretty much biologically-bound to put up with her crappy attitude. But if this stranger’s push came to any more of a shove, the arrow on my tolerance dial would be hovering well within the red-zone marked, “BITCH” for sure!

  Reeling with frustration, I whipped off my shirt and hurled the soggy wad at the door — actually, a little too hard. I busted a hole straight through one of the wooden door panels. Ooops.

  At least my strength is coming back…and now it matches the rest of the bedroom, I noted with a shrug.

  “Tsk. Tsk. Tsk . . . There go those clothes again, Ms. Wallace,” Silas called from my bedroom, forcing me into a back-wrenching flinch. “Thank you for the reminder. I’ll make a note to have that needle and thread on standby.” The sound of the bedroom door closing couldn’t have come sooner or sounded any sweeter.

  My eyes fell into a schemey slant as I slipped under the water.

  Okay. Bitchy it is…

  CHAPTER 3

  The main house looked considerably more lit and lively when I arrived topside for breakfast the next morning. I stepped into the dining room a good ten minutes early to find Silas strutting around the table like a peacock, polishing off silverware and meticulously placing each piece beside the ritzy chargers like he was building a house of cards. It was hard to decide which looked more anal — the
extravagant place settings or him. Tough choice.

  “Good Morning, Ms. Wallace,” the house steward simpered. He pulled out his pocket watch. “My. You do wear that eagerness like a coat of arms.”

  Five whole seconds, I grumbled quietly with a firm eye on his flashy timepiece. Is he timing them now?

  “You know what they say, ‘the early bird catches that worm’,” I beamed and topped it off with a perky wink & point combo.

  Silas paused abruptly, looking a little too engrossed in a far-off thought. And if his abrupt hush wasn’t daunting enough, the sly grin he unfolded made my bottom lip go south.

  “Hmmm . . . We can only hope,” he finally replied and then tapped the fork down on the table like a winning game-piece. “Those worms can be particularly slippery.” With his latest zinger singeing the air, the little domestic-devil floated out of the room, flaunting the grace of a feather.

  No change in his attitude, I noted. If our latest exchange wasn’t a firm enough hint, the gist behind the seating arrangements sure hit home. Tanner and I would be dining at opposite ends of the table — well away from initiating any intimate contact. There’d be no “passing the salt”. How could I? I didn’t see a tennis racquet amongst my utensils, and the daggone table was a good twenty-five feet long. Any of the other fourteen dining chairs positioned around the mile-long stretch of wood only yesterday would have been closer, but for “some reason” they all happened to be shoved against the surrounding sidewalls today. Coincidence? I think NOT…

  Silas reappeared toting two crystal goblets of orange juice. “Where will you be sitting, Ms. Wallace?”

  Does it really matter? I headed for the chair closest to the door. “The South Pole looks like a good spot.”

  “Excellent choice,” Silas smirked.

  I took my seat and purposely lined up my hilt beside the silverware with a cutesy smile and a firm “tap” of my own. The vocal house steward had nothing to say before he headed back to the kitchen, surprisingly, but his heavy-footed parade spoke for him. Fancy setting aside, I felt every bit like a ten-year-old on a dusty playground and the two of us were headed on a collision course for one major recess smack-down. It was merely a matter of time to see who got sand in their eyes first.

  Well, it’s NOT going to be me!

  It wasn’t long before I sensed my mentor’s building blissful essence. I was glad my back happened to be facing the door. I needed that crucial, composing split-second so he wouldn’t see my eyes ignite. I didn’t catch a wink of sleep last night, what with thinking over and over about him. Cradling me in the tub… Lying against his chiseled chest… My eyes drifted to a slow close. That alone had left a pretty sizzling mark. A sweet aftershock coursed through my body, which inevitably sent my pulse firing off a warning shot of its own.

  My lids flew open like a door blown open from an approaching storm. Crap! Here I was, thinking about him—AGAIN! I could actually feel my self-control starting to crumble, like a hunk of marble being chipped away at the hands of a relentless sculptor and their sharpest chisel, and that was seriously starting to bother me. I’d never felt this worked-up before, this restless or self-conscious. My worst fear was that all those years I’d sat back and watched a parade of googly-eyed girls without a lick of restraint act like swooning idiots over some guy was coming around to bite me in the ass, hard. I gave my head a few scolding shakes while the tip of my finger pounded a steady stream of pensive pecks on the tabletop. Where in the heck did all of my self-discipline go? I breathed out as much release as I could and consciously decided right then & there that I had to shift my focus for the sake of my own sanity — because my heart sure-fire couldn’t just automatically turn it off.

  Cool and casual, I repeated quickly, hoping it would sink in like a sponge. Tanner stopped at my chair within seconds. Now I could smell him — every delectable note of his arousing woodsy-musk fragrance.

  I sighed on the inside. I’m completely screwed…

  “I see you’re armed and ready for breakfast,” Tanner teased.

  I honed my poker-face and turned to meet his gaze…and dammit if it wasn’t just as smoldering.

  I tightened my expression. “I wasn’t quite sure if the meal would agree with me — this time.”

  The amusement sparking in his eyes seemed to dull after a not-so subtle glance at the ruby cuff on my wrist. In fact, it was the same look he tried playing off when I had showed it to him for the first time. Something about Kamya’s gift didn’t please my mentor one little bit—no two ways about it—and I was itching to know why.

  Tanner knelt beside me, practically in a 180° obedient drop. “I see you used the salve.” He stroked my cheek with one ginger sweep. “As flawless as ever.”

  His touch played a round of tug-of-war with the corners of my lips. So did the way his chest gripped that charcoal-gray henley he was wearing, prompting me to revisit my daydream featuring all those virile ridges and dips. My strong façade inevitably folded like a cheap tent when they lifted into a smile.

  Ughhh… This is going to be sooo freaking hard.

  Mr. Passive-Aggressive entered the room, clearing his throat louder than a shoddy old exhaust could backfire. “Breakfast is served,” Silas announced and distributed our meals accordingly. “I’ll start battening down the hatches.” He glanced at his pocket watch. “Moonrise will be here soon.”

  “Good idea,” Tanner concurred with a sharp rise and then started his hike to the other end of the table. I followed his strides, now grateful for the extra view-time the lengthy jaunt was providing.

  Silas stopped beside me on his way out. “I believe I’ve managed to impress you with this meal, Ms. Wallace.” His voice slid into a discreet hush. “You’re practically drooling.”

  My glutes flinched into a lock to keep me from springing out of my seat. I shifted my gaze back to my plate before Tanner reached his seat. The only reply I could offer up was a quick round of sheepish nods.

  Silas issued me another one of his smirks and then resumed his departure. No telepathy was needed. From the crooked pitch of his brow, the “hands of the house” had been a hair away from wrangling my napkin around my neck like a daggone bib.

  I stretched back in my chair. He may not be a supernatural (though I still wasn’t totally convinced), but he sure was a superhuman thorn in my side.

  “Something on your mind?” Tanner asked.

  I reigned in my searing vibe and straightened the napkin in my lap. “Nothing,” I evaded.

  “He doesn’t hate you,” Tanner said. “Silas doesn’t have a vast range of emotions. He only focuses on concrete objectives. He never allows himself to become distracted by anything remotely abstract . . . especially feelings.”

  I nodded as I took a swig of my juice and placed it firmly on the table. I had to do something to curtail the caustic little laugh that was on the verge of exploding out of my mouth. Well, he seems to have pompous ass down pat.

  “Can’t an amethyst help him with that?” I suggested.

  “It could,” Tanner laughed, “but Silas prefers how he is. As long as his intentions remain honorable, I see no need in tampering with his ways. The world would be a very boring place if everyone were forced to feel and act the same, don’t you agree?”

  “Well . . .” I pondered with a tilt of my head. A few less buttholes in the world? What’s wrong with that?

  “He’ll warm up to you in time,” Tanner assured, “ . . . and in his own way.”

  “Can’t wait,” I groaned. I won’t hold my breath.

  “So?” Tanner began, “How are you feeling this morning?”

  I set down my fork. My hands were now resting on the table in front of me, actually pressing against its surface with hopes of abating the level of my true feelings. “Sore . . . Shocked . . . Even a little nervous,” I added, acknowledging an obvious response while trying to downplay the bells that were ringing in my head like a five-alarm fire. I’d never been sliced up that many times or whacked so hard to da
te, and the creatures themselves made my speculations run wild about what the heck else was running around out there, let alone locked up down in Tanner’s basement. Even after witnessing Lorelei and Damiec’s altered forms, the idea of “monsters” was still so surreal. So was the unnerving fact that they were so strong—really strong—and somehow these things were able to riddle my skin with wounds without the trace of a diamond. That only made matters worse. So, yes… Fate’s plan along with my little baptism-by-fire last night had all of my hairs standing on their respective ends. But I would never officially acknowledge how much to Tanner. Thank goodness for gel and ponytails.

  “That’s understandable,” Tanner assured. “But I’m afraid there are more where they came from.”

  An uneasy feeling curdled my stomach. Between my two rude-awakening run-ins and seeing that last panel on the painting last night, the churn had become intolerable. Fear was simply a layer powering its force. I knew where the root of its foulness stemmed: from the “unknown” and the uncertainty of what my future held. The farther my thoughts carried me down destiny’s path, the more I felt like crawling under a bed to hide. If I was going to get any relief, I desperately needed a little sunlight to kill this plague once and for all.

  “About that,” I sighed. “I need to say something.”

  Tanner locked his hands together and propped his elbows up on the table, looking the epitome of serious. “I’m all ears,” he said, tenting his fingers.

  “I understand why all this secrecy was necessary in the past — for my protection, but it has to end. You have to tell me what I need to know. I want straight answers to all of my questions. Whoever or whatever I’ll be facing along the way . . . I want to know. I have to. I’m still clueless why fate chose me to bear all this responsibility, but if I’m to do this, I can’t have any surprises. You have to tell me everything,” I pleaded. “I want to know it all.”