by Calista Fox
Recently, Jade had added a third specialty to her obscure talents. The ability to sense an evil entity when it skulked along the periphery.
Convinced she still wasn’t under observation at the moment, she ducked into her bathroom and splashed water on her face from the glass basin sitting on the vanity, then dabbed at her wet skin with a towel. The plumbing was akin to that in a rural cabin with a septic tank buried in the side yard.
She changed into a pewter-colored flannel nightgown and built a small fire in the hearth in her bedroom before slipping under the covers. It had been a busy night at the tavern. That, combined with her tribulations, left her exhausted. She was asleep within minutes.
But her overactive mind did not rest. Jade dreamed of Michael. A mental vision she hadn’t conjured in a year or two. Her subconscious homed in on his earlier lean-in and what might have happened had the demon on the horse not interrupted them.
In Jade’s reverie, Michael’s lips brushed hers. A tentative kiss full of uncertainty, yet laced with desire. The street corner melted away and the images playing in Jade’s head were of her and Michael lying naked in her bed, his body covering hers. Her hands roamed his back and she writhed beneath him.
It had been eight long years since Jade had been with this man—the only man she’d ever been with—and her base need for intimacy was more acute than ever, given her close encounter with him this evening.
She yearned for a deep, sizzling kiss. To feel him inside her.
She whispered, “Make love to me.”
“Yes,” he murmured.
Though it wasn’t Michael’s voice she heard.
The dream took a wayward turn as a thick shaft slowly penetrated her aching pussy. Jade’s body moved with the stranger’s as he filled and stretched her. His features morphed from Michael’s athletic physique to an even more muscular one. Wider shoulders, larger biceps, stronger back.
He was a mammoth of a man, in every way. Jade’s inner walls clenched his hard cock as their hips undulated in a languid, sexy rhythm. Her palms moved over his sinewy backside and cupped his ass, as much as her hands could manage, because he was huge from head to toe.
She couldn’t see his face, given that it was burrowed in the crook of her neck. His mouth was on her throat and he nipped at her flesh, then soothed the love bites with his teasing tongue and warm lips.
One hand caressed her breast, and her body responded ardently to the tender massaging and the sweeping of the pad of his thumb over her puckered nipple. Back and forth. Pebbling the sensitive bead tighter.
Jade moaned and it seemed to encourage him. He thrust into her more aggressively, driving deep, hitting all the right spots along the way.
Her spine arched in her need to get closer to him. She dragged a hand from his backside and wove her fingers through his lush, obsidian hair. The tension pulled taut within her and mixed with the searing desire flooding her veins.
“You feel so good,” she told him.
His low groan resonated in the quiet room—and straight to her core. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
“I’ve needed you for so long,” she confessed.
Though she had no idea who he was. In her dream, it didn’t matter. He was supremely built and powerful and that heightened her arousal. He was also a masterful lover, with an uncanny familiarity of everything she burned for.
Her clit tingled and her heart hungered for a kiss she knew would be passionate and all-consuming.
As his full, forceful thrusts pushed her closer to the edge, she begged, “Kiss me.”
His mouth crashed over hers, claiming it. Claiming her. There was nothing tentative about his scorching lip-lock. No uncertainty. No restraint. As his tongue delved into her mouth while his cock continued to stroke fervently, Jade felt the erotic sensations inside her soar to all new levels.
She was desperate for the explosive release she knew he’d give her, but did not want to let go of the fiery bliss blazing through her. Nor did she want to relinquish her hold on him or end their impassioned kiss. Everything about her phantom lover sparked carnal cravings and she wanted to stop time and simply savor the most exciting and stirring moments of her life.
But he continued to plunge into her slick, wet depths. As his strokes became shorter and more frenetic—and his kiss turned hotter and more demanding—Jade lost herself in the magnificent sensations simmering within her until they reached the boiling point and erupted spectacularly.
She tore her mouth from his as a rasping cry wrenched from her lips and echoed in her ears. She held her lover to her as her body quaked and her pussy clutched him firmly.
Astonishingly, over the thundering of her heart and the pounding of her pulse, she was able to hear four words whispered in a strained tone.
“I truly want you.”
And then he came inside her, his hot seed filling her as his body convulsed.
Another earth-shattering orgasm rocked Jade so hard, she jerked awake. Her eyes popped open, bulging. The throbbing between her legs was wickedly vibrant from both the release and the need to feel in reality what she’d experienced in her dream. She stared at the ceiling, her breath coming in heavy pulls.
The climax slowly ebbed, but her breathing remained ragged. She sat up and glanced around the room, almost certain she’d find her ethereal lover lounging in the chair in the corner or stoking the fire in all his naked glory. As though he were real.
But, no. Jade was alone in her cottage in the north woods.
As always.
Or was she…?
A harsh grunt from an animal outside her walls drew her attention. Untangling herself from the covers that she’d mangled in her restless slumber, she shoved her feet into tattered slippers and raced to the double doors in her bedroom that led to a covered patio overlooking the river. She released the security latch and threw open one door, stepping out onto the cobblestones, sprinkled with snow that had blown in from the unshielded sides.
Jade’s arms wrapped partially around a wooden column. She shivered from not only her fantasy and the orgasm that had transcended it, but also because she knew someone had been near her house while she’d slept. Her gaze scoured the area with the help of the glittery rays from a crescent moon that hung in the now-cloudless sky. The snow had stopped falling, but the storm had left behind a good foot of powder, as she’d assumed it would.
There.
In a patch of downy white, across the river and to the west, she saw the indentation of horse hooves. The tracks led from the northern edge of the narrow river—the opposite bank from hers—into the expansive stretch of forest that lined the base of the ridge where the Demon King’s castle stood.
An icy breeze blew across the land, ruffling her hair and billowing the skirt of her nightgown.
And carried with it the pain-filled neigh of a horse.
Chapter Three
Around eight a.m., a very disturbed Jade headed toward the village library, carefully carrying two mugs of piping hot coffee from the shop on the corner. Extra-large, since she’d gotten little sleep after her errant dream and the discovery of the tracks outside her house. Even the twin climaxes hadn’t helped to relax her.
She pushed the door open with her shoulder and entered the small establishment.
Lisette Bordeaux sat at a desk made of knotty pine and glanced up from the book she’d been reading. “You’re early.”
“I was tired of pacing the cottage. I nearly wore the floorboards out.” She set the cups on the desk and slipped out of her jacket.
Lisette asked, “What are you so pensive about? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Not seen,” Jade deadpanned as she sank into the oversized lounging chair across from her friend. “Followed by.”
Lisette’s homely face fell. She snapped the book shut. “A wraith?” Alarm tinged her usually soft voice. “One of the king’s?”
“Do you know of any others that would haunt our woods?”
“O
h, dear,” the older woman said as she patted her gray bun and then placed her hand over her fleshy neck, as though in distress.
Lisette was pushing seventy, but was still agile and quite healthy. She’d been in her mid-thirties when the Demon War had flared up and she’d regaled Jade on numerous occasions with stories of pre-war life.
Aside from the technology that sounded too good to be true, there had been luxury cruise ships and Dreamliner airplanes. Movie theaters, concert halls, casinos, resorts and restaurants of every variety—all of which she’d described in great detail.
Most of all, there’d been freedom. Something Lisette had lost more so than anyone else in the village, including the other elders who’d lived in the time of the mortals’ reign.
With the Demon King restricting her reading materials and legally binding her use of magical powers, Lisette was nothing more than a caretaker of historical books and the narrator of a world yet to be rebuilt.
What Jade found most interesting about Lisette’s wealth of information was that very few people in the village took advantage of the ideas and innovations of which she spoke or those contained within the pages of the resource volumes on the shelves. As though no one wanted to remember or believe in the way humans had lived not more than thirty-five years ago.
Had this been a bookstore, Lisette would have surely been out of business her first week.
“Tell me why you would be followed,” she coaxed, her shrewd, light-brown eyes narrowing on Jade. “Have you done anything wrong?”
“Of course not,” Jade replied, indignant. “I do what everyone else does. I get up in the morning, I take care of some chores, wash myself and my clothes, eat a meal or two and then go to work. I come home, sleep and repeat the process the next day. On Sundays, I read books. Pretty simple stuff.”
Naturally, she refrained from adding fantasizing to her agenda. She didn’t want to think of last night’s “romantic interlude.” It had been too real, too potent. The emotional and physical lure had been too strong not to bite on it. One of the reasons she’d lost so much sleep the previous evening.
“Have you said anything?” Lisette leaned toward her, regarding her quizzically.
“What could I possibly have to say that hasn’t already been said by someone in this community?” She threw her hands up in the air. “Let’s face it, there’s very little left to talk about, except to debate how best to grow vegetables and herbs inside during the winter months.”
They canned and pickled the majority of necessities. Meat had been scarce, she’d heard, in the early years, but had become more abundant with the return of wildlife.
“Hmm.” Lisette shifted in her chair, settling more comfortably before reaching for her coffee. She took a sip, then said, “How many immortals had you crossed paths with before you realized you were under surveillance?”
Jade thought back a month or two. “I’ve yet to see a vampire, that I’m aware of, since they reportedly keep to the castle where there’s plenty of sustenance stored up from the war.”
She shuddered to think the preserved blood of her ancestors fed them.
Continuing, Jade added, “I’ve noticed three shifters along some of the trails of late, on different occasions—one bobcat, two wolves. Abnormally sized, so they were easy to pinpoint. And I’ve seen demons in the village. Several of them, again during varying intervals. Never more than two at a time, per the king’s rule. I’m not good at identifying their exact species—I gave up on that long ago and now basically lump all of the damned into one demonic category.”
Lisette seemed to take this under consideration, then asked, “Any interactions with them?”
“No, but…they always stare intently at me. Even if I’m just passing by.” She thought of the horned demons in particular. “They seem perplexed. Almost skeptical of me.”
“Questioning something about you,” the witch mumbled as her eyelids drifted closed.
“Lisette!” Jade cried, instantly panicked. “No magic!”
The older woman’s lids fluttered open and she sighed dramatically. “How else do you expect me to tap into their mystical realm and find out what motivation there would be to keep tabs on you?”
“Do not use your magic, Lisette,” Jade said in a slow, measured tone. “If the Demon King were to find out—”
“Oh, pish-posh.” She gave a dismissive wave of her wrinkled, translucent-skinned hand. “I’m not getting any younger. Let him punish me. He can’t strip my powers from me.”
“But he can imprison you, damn it, so lay off,” Jade asserted. “I don’t want you getting into trouble because of me. Something’s brewing and I’m going to start snooping around myself to find out what.”
“Now, Jade, don’t go doing anything—”
The door to the library swung open with vigor and made a resounding thud as it slammed against the adjacent wall.
Jade’s anxiety spiked over fear Lisette had just been singled out by the king’s master of arms for her potential criminal activity. Her head whipped in the direction of the intruder.
She released a breath of relief as she stared at Max Kincaid, the town butcher. A flurry of snow blew in with him.
“Thank God,” she muttered, willing her erratic pulse to slow.
Unfortunately, there was no chance of that because Max’s voice was edged with dismay as he tersely said, “Come to the town hall, immediately. Something terrible has happened.”
He was out the door in the next moment, not bothering to close it.
Jade turned back to an equally stricken Lisette. “What do you suppose that’s all about?”
“I don’t know,” the witch said. Then reticently added, “But something tells me it will eventually come around to involving you.”
Jade’s stomach roiled. “Please don’t say that.”
Lisette stood. She left her desk and headed toward the coatrack in the corner. While bundling up, she reminded Jade, “We don’t have a lot of coincidences or intrigues in this village. If you’re being watched, it probably has something to do with whatever Max is spouting off about.”
Jade promptly thought of Michael. Her stalker had seen them together, in a near compromising position. What if he’d gone after Michael and that was why she hadn’t sensed the predator’s presence until much later, after her dream?
Her heart hammered in her chest. Jade raced outside and rushed toward the hall—which doubled as a spiritual gathering place on Sundays—leaving Lisette behind. Jade knew her friend would have ample company as the villagers closed their shops and made their way to the meeting place.
Jade stormed into the entryway with apologies as she nudged past the growing conglomeration and then burst into the open common area. Mismatched seating was always arranged to receive the populace of a hundred or so and Jade hurried down the main aisle. In front of the courtroom setup was a table with two upholstered chairs. The slayers sat there, arms folded over their chests as they waited for the others to file in.
Moving forward, Jade flattened her palms on the wooden surface and leaned toward them, quietly demanding, “What’s happened?”
“Now, Jade,” Walker Marks said in a gruff tone, the long, thin battle scars on his face appearing starker than usual against his ruddy skin. “You’ll have to wait to hear the news when we announce it.”
Frayed nerves spurred her on. “This has something to do with the demons, doesn’t it?”
“Jade,” said Toran Monroe. At thirty, he was the younger of the two slayers. “Don’t create mass hysteria. Sit. Wait. Listen.” When she didn’t budge, he urged, “Please.”
She brimmed with frustration and felt sufficiently frantic, but Jade straightened and spun around. Her gaze landed on Michael and she heaved another sigh of relief. Hurrying over to him, she grabbed him by the hands and squeezed tight. “I am so happy to see you. I was afraid you might have been under further observation last night.”
“Not that I’m aware of,” he told her. His expression wa
s as grave as hers likely was. “We don’t have impromptu meetings unless something catastrophic has happened. What do you know?”
“Nothing. Neither Walker nor Toran will tell me anything.”
She was probably the only one in the village who could insist they share their information with her, given that she was the daughter of the man designated leader of Ryleigh when he’d established the municipality of survivors. However, after her father’s death, the slayers—at that time being Walker and Toran’s uncle—had stepped in to govern the people.
She often wondered if it was her destiny to fill her father’s shoes. But then she questioned what the point would be, given the tyranny under which they lived. What difference could she possibly make?
Michael directed her to the chairs they traditionally occupied in the second row on the right, behind the eldest members of the community. She stripped off her jacket, knowing all the bodies gathered in the hall and the blaze in the two fireplaces would be adequate in warming her. Too much so, perhaps, since she wore a thick sweater, pants and boots, all in black.
Lisette joined them, as always, even though she held a place with the elders in the front row. There weren’t many of them left and they were, on whole, a stodgy group. Jade knew Lisette preferred the vitality of youth and therefore hunkered down with her and Michael.
With her knee bouncing from nervous anxiety, Jade said, “The suspense is going to kill me.”
Michael draped an arm over the back of her chair, an unexpected move. He placed his other hand on her vibrating knee to still it. “Relax, will you?” His placating tone seemed forced. He was as disturbed as she was, but apparently he fought to control his emotions while hers ran rampant. “It could be something as minimal as a new curfew.”
The friendly touch on her leg and his soothing voice didn’t offer enough serenity. “Yeah,” she wryly quipped, “and post-war children believe in the ridiculous notion of the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny.”