It was his turn to snort. “Not cooking pans, the god Pan, you know ‘horny old goat’ that sort of thing.” He watched as she slowly shook her head, the ends of her uneven cut hair catching glints of light, almost distracting him from a good mad.
“That’s not how I meant it. But since you mentioned it, what is your real name?” Frank felt his throat tighten. By the gods he was an idiot for his knee-jerk reaction. “Its obvious someone knows and it bothers you.”
“Silvestri’s ‘assistant’ showed up,” he forced the words out between clenched teeth. “She knew me.” Names held power. His had the power to drag him from happy obscurity and back into the realm of responsibility. He liked being a wealthy dilettante with not a care in the world. It wasn’t like anyone took the time to remember him properly anyway.
“She?” The arch gaze was one that looked entirely too sexy on her face. Every look mesmerized him more. “Just how many women do you ‘know’?”
“Not that kind of ‘know’ she just called me by a name that I haven’t heard spoken in a very long time.” He still felt surly but the jealousy he felt rising from Flora intrigued him, lulled the anger down to a dull garbled noise in the background.
Shrugging he gave her his best pretty-boy come-hither smile. “But I do love women. All women.”
Flora solemnly appraised the tilted head, the perfect way his long brown hair half-obscured his dancing sin-dark eyes, and made up her mind. This one had it way too easy when it came to the ladies, if he wanted her; he was going to have to work for it.
A small chime in her hindbrain sounded, that was what rubbed her wrong, not the sexy smiles or the too long looks, but the glib thought that she was inevitably going to fall into his arms. His attitude of ‘I’ve already won. Give over and screw me already.’ He treated her like a discarded dishrag because he didn’t see a reason not to; to him all women were inevitable.
“Not bad bait, but I’ve seen better,” Point one for the shrew; she swallowed a grin as he deflated. He needed to be taken down a peg or four. He might not look at her with adoration but desire wasn’t too shabby. Oh yeah, she nodded, he was going to work for it.
Chapter Five
Closing Loops
“We need to work together and I can’t do it if I’m constantly worried about you reading my mind. And no,” she held up a hand forestalling his inevitable broken promise, “your word isn’t good enough. If Red’s friend has an answer, then I’ll trust that she can help us solve this mess.” Too many damned people around for her peace of mind as it was.
“Do I detect a bit of jealousy?” Frank slowly pushed away from the desk to walk towards her. Jealousy? Where the hell did he get that? Maybe she wouldn’t need help with his mind reading after all.
“Oh get over yourself.” She laughed and moved to sit on the edge of the desk where he had been, enjoying the heat his body left behind.
“I’d love to hear you call my name in passion,” he teased crowding in, pinning her legs to the desk, forcing her into an intimate spot. She defaulted on the testosterone and leaned back, supporting her upper body on her elbows.
“Yeah, I can so hear the passion, ‘oh Frank, I’ve got a sick headache,’” she teased quoting MASH, one of her favorite re-run television shows, pushing back the sudden tide of nervousness sloshing in her tummy as he looked down at her sprawled form.
“Frank isn’t my name, little Flower.” His voice deepened, and Flora felt an answering tingle start in parts better left anonymous.
“Hmm…well unless you fess up to it, I guess you won’t hear it from my lips now will you?” She aimed for indifferent but it felt like flirting all the same. She wasn’t a virgin but the dating ritual of ‘boy chase girl’ had never been on her menu. He rested his fists on the desk to either side of her stomach and she nearly wriggled in closer. Damn, but the man had to be cheating somehow, maybe it was a part of being a god and he had to be a god no matter how he downplayed the connection between him and Lupercus.
“Ah, but lips can do more than speak,” Frank teased, resting more of his weight against her relaxed frame.
“Yours seem to do a lot of kissing,” she replied very primly. “I seem to recall a very pretty picture of you kissing Ashley not all that long ago. They need a break.” Pertly she leaned forward and ghosted a soft kiss on the side of his jaw. He had a wonderful smell of pine and man with a dark tang that evoked thoughts of whispers in moonlight.
“Practice makes perfect.” He returned the innocent peck by kissing the tip of her nose. Flora’s treacherous heart tumbled over, making her breathe a little deeper than idle flirting and she felt his response against her thigh.
“Perfect, eh?” She was so not up for playing this game but the blood racing through her veins called her a liar. “Prove it,” she challenged.
“I would darling, but my lips have too many miles for your purity.” He grinned.
“True,” she nodded sagely, “you might have a disease.”
His eyes widened, shocked as the barb struck home.
“How about you kiss me, prove your soft little lips are worthy of my attention.” Flora loved the way he brushed against her as he dipped to speak first in one ear, then the other. Like a bee sampling flowers, her mind conjured. But the effect was ruined when his words registered. Kissing was not exactly something she was very good at. The last guy she had the misfortune of sleeping with made the comment that her mouth had better uses. The prick had other complaints but kissing was a sore point, and the mood was ruined for her.
Lying back flat on her desk, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the rough beamed ceiling. “Okay, that was fun, not. Get off me.”
“Oh no, you don’t!” he swore low and angry. Pulling her to the edge of the desk, he pushed his hips between her legs. Reacting, Flora moved to put her hands against his chest and push him away but he flattened her back against the desk, the kiss was brutal in its dichotomy – anger was evident in the hard body pressing against hers but the gentle touch of lips and tongue took her breath away. Teasing, seducing, cajoling, he deft captured her mouth.
Mind drunk on the soft feathering touches, Flora gave in and opened to him, and the kiss deepened. She liked the feel of his tongue and she copied it, earning a shudder of approval as he rocked his lower body into hers, sending torrents of liquid heat to her core. His hands still held hers prisoner against his chest between them.
Wanting to drag his clothes off but being held back helped pull her senses away from the hard, hungry kiss. If this is what he can reduce me to with just a kiss how the hell will I ever make him work for more? The thought was sobering and she turned her head to the side. “That’s enough, please.”
With a frustrated sound, he pulled back and stared hard at her. “I don’t understand. I want you, you want me. What is the big deal? Just let go and have a good time.”
A good time. The words bolstered her decision.
“I know what I’ve had and I know what I want.” Levering herself up, she hopped off of her desk and straightened her clothes. There was nothing for the rest, she looked like she’d been in the hayloft making out, and that pretty much was what had happened. “A month ago you took women out, women plural. Dates, dinners, whatever. You talk about it all the time. A week ago you were still trying to nail your brother’s fiancé. Today, it’s me. I want to be more than a good time. I think I deserve it.” She marched to the door, grabbed her coat and pointed.
“Now get out of my office, we’re going to meet Red’s friend.”
****
Madden led the way from the front entrance, through the foyer, past a narrow hall running behind the main stairs to the second floor to a bank of rooms. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that they were in the small section reserved for family and employees. Celena looked around with tired curiosity. The hall was narrow with pictures of beautiful young women everywhere.
When he made to turn into a room to the right, she held up a hand and
continued looking at the rows of identical triplet women. There were ones in stark black and white, a few that had been hand painted, and even one done in oils, the rest were an amalgamation of sepia tones and varying shades of coloration as film quality aged or improved. In all, they were identical but for a smallish picture at the back of the hall, there resided a cameo style picture of three young women, two fair and one dark.
“The line has been broken,” she said quietly, touching the edge of the frame. The warmth at her back told her that Madden was near, without raising her voice she inquired, “Is there another generation of triplets yet?”
“Yeah.” His voice was rough, graveled as though from disuse, Celena looked over her shoulder, but he didn’t seem disturbed. That makes no sense; she puzzled over his voice changing, gentling.
“Well, where are their pictures?” Something itched in her to see the new generation. The tide of triplets flowed to a small knot of possibility, the kind inspired by change.
Instead of pointing to a picture, Madden walked the last few steps to the door at the end of the hall and gently knocked. One of the blonde women from the cameo portrait opened the door, saw Madden and smiled. Celena felt her heart hit her shoes at the love in her face, and the name Lora on his lips.
“Celena, I’d like you to meet my sister-in-law, Marc’s wife, Lora.” He smiled tugging at her elbow, drawing her forward.
“Marc’s wife?” She felt stupid asking after obviously being introduced but it wasn’t what she’d been dreading. Lora just laughed quietly and led the way deeper into the apartment.
“I guess you’re here to see the boys again,” she teased.
Madden just nodded and moved to a doorway off of the living-dining area.
“Boys?” Celena felt lost, but an idea was forming at the back of her mind. “Your sons are triplets?”
Lora sighed. “Much to my mother’s dismay.” She didn’t look very upset, just deeply happy and not a little tired. “We got to come home from the hospital faster than expected. My parents and Marc’s decided to retire together, naturally they’re coming back to see the babies, just haven’t got here yet.”
“Why would your mom be upset at boys?” Celena thought she knew the answer but wanted to be certain.
“Each generation we have a set of triplets, always girls and one has the gift of flowers.” The last bit of information clicked in Celena’s brain but she felt like she was putting the puzzle together looking at the blank backside. There was something pivotal about flowers. Standing in the doorway, she looked into the small nursery at the antique cradle. It had been made wide enough for three and the three small forms with downy-blond fuzz slept peacefully under its starched eyelet canopy.
“You aren’t the one with the gift of flowers are you?” Celena whispered; it seemed fitting with the small sleeping forms breathing shallowly just a few feet away. Madden stroked the cheek of the boy in the middle and the small rosebud mouth worked furiously, suckling the air.
“Red, if you wake them up,” Lora threatened waving a finger at the dark auburn male as he watched the children closely. In lieu of a reply, he gave Lora a sideways look with an arched brow. Lora dramatically rolled her eyes and moved towards the small couch in the living room. “No, I’m not the flower child, funny enough, Flora is.”
“Funny?” Celena sat on the edge of the recliner, afraid to sit back, the soft shape was so enticing; she didn’t want to conk out in front of her hostess. That and the association with Flora and Faunus was enough to make her see stars. One of Faunus’ legendary consorts was Flora, it suddenly made sense. But why had the trend in triplets shift from female to male? Her mind pondered the question as she listened.
“Mmm.” Lora smiled looking up, Marc walked in from the attached kitchenette carrying a cup of spiced cider for his wife the apron he’d worn outside was draped over the back of a chair. “Funny because my mom didn’t know when we were born which one of us would have the gift with plants, and she took a chance with the names. I’m Lora, Flora has her greenhouse, and Cora, who’s out of the country, is a nurse.”
Celena looked at her lap not wanting anyone to see the appalled looked on her face. She thought Belle, Bebé, Brie, and Bunny had it bad. Rhyming names for twins was something that always grated on her nerves. It was as if the parents couldn’t separate the children out, but saw them as one blended whole.
“I don’t much care for it either, Celena,” Madden teased, leaning against the doorway to the nursery.
She closed her eyes and counted to ten. He’d always been able to read her like a book.
“What have you named the boys?” Anthing to ignore the amusement she felt from both men.
Lora scowled at her husband. “Well, I want Lowell, Randall, and Connall.”
Celena couldn’t help it, she choked.
“I’m sorry, but do you think it’s wise? Advertising the boys’ nature like that?” The atmosphere in the room changed; a vibration almost like a hum of undercurrent sawed at her ears. The sound originated from…her eyes tracked, “Madden?” His eyes were different, sharper, the color banding the iris washed nearly to silver, but he wasn’t watching her, he was looking to her right. “Marc?” She stood up slowly, never letting the spurt of fear she felt flood her system with adrenaline. Keeping Marc in her sight, she backed in a small half circle and moved to stand behind Madden’s left, the exact same position he made her take all those years ago in the state forest.
Realization settled in. “You never told your brother, your family what happened did you?” The lump in her throat threatened to choke her. All the years Celena sent letters and cards to Madden and his family, she never received one in reply, but if they didn’t know what happened, then why did they reject her?
The only answer was a low growl. She risked looking up and saw the way his lips pulled back, exposing teeth that weren’t exactly human. “Oh Madden, what have you done?” The sight was a shock, but she had a more immediate problem—Marc. He had a mate and sons to protect and she, the threat, was in his den.
“It doesn’t matter,” her voice broke, “I remember which room is yours.” It was on the left side of the hall leaving the apartment. “I’ll wait for you there.”
From a distance, Red felt Celena flee the room. All the years he’d ached for her, cursed her, and now she was back facing this. He’d read each and every letter and wanted nothing more than to strangle his family for keeping them from him. For years Sandy Black made his life a living hell. When she couldn’t get him arrested for raping her daughter, she had him held in a prison hospital for assaulting her. After the judge threw the case out and ordered his record cleared, she found another judge to grant her a protection order for her and her minor daughter. Only, as Red discovered ten years after the fact, Celena wasn’t in the state at that time, nor was she a minor in the eyes of the court. She’d gone to college and filed for emancipation, winning her right to adulthood weeks after her sixteenth birthday. He couldn’t let his family hold Sandy’s behavior against Celena.
“When did you tell her?” Marc demanded as Lora scurried away, wide-eyed, disappearing into the nursery. Red felt heat burning along his skin, as if fur covered him already. For years he practiced holding one shape a hair’s breadth away from the other. It had cost him too much taking the time to pull his other nature on like a sweater; he still had the scars to prove it. Now the only person who could shift shape faster was Lupercus himself.
“I didn’t have to tell her.” He smiled and enjoyed the flinch from his brother. Marc had everything, a wife and babies, solid work running the inn. Just an anonymous pack member, not even the beta--hell, he wasn’t even willing to stand up and be beta when the pack found out about the wound Dr. SaoBria suffered, limiting him to human form. And yet he bared his teeth and demanded answers of his alpha? “Be happy we are men first and wolves second or your pups would be orphans.”
Marc blinked, astounded. “Red, what the hell? The Blacks have always--”
/> “Celena had nothing to do with her mother’s bullshit. Her first letter, the first damned one,” he barked the words, moving to stand nose-to-nose with his brother. “The first letter was all about how she was emancipated in California.” His nose smelled the change in his brother’s sweat, from adrenaline fueled anger to fear. “She never knew what her mother did.”
“Jesus!” Marc closed his eyes and stepped back, sinking blindly into a chair. “I am so sorry bro--Mom and Dad did what they thought was best. When they left, they gave me the box and told me to just stuff whatever came in there. I didn’t know.”
“I don’t want Celena to know,” he spoke softly, letting the wolf side ease back into his psyche.
“Aw, Red! She’s gotta know! You know how fast rumor and gossip travel here. How long do you think it’s going to take before someone recognizes Celena and calls her ma?” Leaning back, Marc rested the back of his head against the couch and stared at the ceiling.
“Just because I still love her Marc, doesn’t mean she’s going to stay.” There it was out, the truth. “She wants a chance to make up for what happened at Cooper’s Rocks, she never said anything else.” He stared out the small window, watching the sunlight play over the grim dark tones of the bare woods; it matched his mood and the ache in his heart.
“What did happen?” Three words Red waited a decade to hear, and he didn’t dare take the time to answer it properly. “Red? C’mon, one minute we were all sitting around the campfire drinking a beer, and then you were gone. Next I saw you, it was three days later, and you were in the hospital. What gives?”
“The short and sweet of it? Belle Tressler, that’s what happened.”
“Belle? She was my date, I don’t understand.”
“You never did pay a bit of attention to that girl or what she was after. She wanted you, she wanted me. The little bitch couldn’t stand not having every guy chase after her. You were sitting there with the track team laughing, and she had her hands down my pants. I got up to leave and she wrapped herself around you, figuring no one would find out what happened to Celena.”
Forget Me Knot Page 5