Blessedly Bound

by Lucretia Stanhope

  Maybe Curtis took a day off after all, she thought.

  As she was finishing her coffee a big question came into her mind. Mike.

  Why was Mike set up? If Curtis had evidence and Mike didn't do it, there was a reason. Could he have known something? Found something in his family history search.

  Gwen drained her cup and headed to her truck after the usual goodbyes with Mel.

  She dialed Trisha and waited nervously for an answer. They talked briefly and Trisha said she wasn't doing anything so they met at the yarn shop for coffee and a chat.

  Kathy was happy to see them and even happier to see them hugging. After they were settled in with coffee, they each pulled out a blanket for the hospital and started knitting while they talked.

  “Does Mike talk to you about his work?” Gwen asked.

  “Of course, he tells me everything.”

  “I think something in my family history is the reason William and Lizzy died. Do you know if he found something? Maybe there was something so dark, that was enough for the person who killed Lizzy to want to frame Mike in particular.”

  Trisha's needles stopped clicking and she looked up at Gwen. “You think the real killer framed my baby on purpose to stop him finding out something? You really think he didn't do it?”

  “Yes, and of course, I told you that from the start. I don't think Mike is a killer, I never did. I have been working steadily to find out the truth like I said.”

  “I thought you were just saying that to make nice. Do you…” she started to say and paused, sipping her coffee. “Do you want to come look at his work?”

  “I would, but you should ask him first. Can you call him or ask him when you go see him? I don't want to rummage through his stuff without him knowing first.”

  Trisha reached out and squeezed her hand. “You are sweet, Gwen. I will call him. They let me talk to him any time since it's me and everyone there knows me.”

  Gwen looked down at her knitting, a little shocked Trisha pulled out a phone and called right there. She explained to him what Gwen said, and from what she couldn't help but hear, it sounded like he was agreeable. When Trisha hung up, she smiled and started to shove her things in her project bag.

  “He said sure. You want to follow me home?”

  Gwen agreed and they both said goodbye to Kathy, Gwen grabbing a little of some of the new yarn that had come in. It was so soft and such a pretty shade of green, she couldn't resist.

  At Trisha's, she was shown to a small office with a simple desk and side table.

  “He says what you need is in the stack on the table to the right,” Trisha said, standing behind Gwen in the doorway.

  “Did he think there might be something that would help?”

  “Yes.”

  Gwen looked at the stacks and then sat down in his simple, slightly uncomfortable chair, looking at the papers. As soon as she was able to determine it wasn't related to Lizzy or William, she sat it aside in a quickly growing pile. When she neared the bottom she found something that made her breath catch.

  “Trisha, come here, look at this,” Gwen said, and handed her a paper.

  Trisha read the paper. It was a petition for a name change. William Hensley was the new name. “Wow, so Hensley was just a name he picked? Wasn't he adopted? Maybe it was his birth name and he changed it back?” Trisha asked as a stream.

  Gwen took a picture of the page with her phone. “This must be why they didn't help Mike with his work. If they wanted his past a secret. Why is the question of the day?”

  Gwen looked at the rest of the papers, not finding anything else.

  “What do you make of it?” Trisha asked, as they sat in the living room.

  “This name, the one he wanted to leave behind must hold some dark answers about things that are worth killing for. I have an investigator already looking into his adoption. I'll give him this Monday, and that should speed things up.”

  “Thank you, Gwen. It means a lot that you believe in my Mike.”

  “We'll get answers for everyone,” Gwen said, and smiled weakly.

  They chatted a bit more before Gwen decided from her rumbling tummy it was getting to be late. She needed to get home and get the yarn done before long, if it was going to be ready to work with.

  Trisha looked more hopeful than she had in days and when Gwen left, she gave her a big hug and promised to call her Monday.

  Gwen headed home to find Lewis working on some siding the wind had started to pull off. She let him know what she found out and that she was going inside to start the yarn.

  “Did you need my help?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “Nah, it's simple to dye in spells.”

  “You can still change your mind,” he said, turning to her.

  “I know. It'll be a temporary thing.”

  There was something in her voice that he read as doubt, but he left it and watched as she walked away to get started. Each piece of wood he pulled off and each nail he pounded in, took the brunt of his frustration.

  When he came back in, Gwen was hanging the dyed yarn on racks to dry in the main room so they could get the benefit of the fire.

  He walked over and checked to make sure she hadn't been tainted in anyway by working with his blood. He didn't sense anything, but offered a cleansing anyway.

  Gwen sat down and relaxed back on the couch, letting Lewis run his magic over her, just in case. When he was done, she noticed he was hovering, looking sad.

  “Did you want to learn too? I didn't ever offer because knitting, well, it isn't usually a guy thing. Though I guess it might be a bird thing.”

  He laughed. “You ramble nonsense when you are nervous. I don't need to learn to knit. Do you want to do anything to ease your mind?”

  “No. It just feels like things are on hold for the weekend. I want to see Lenny; he knows what I need to know. I can't call the detective to tell him to focus on the brothers or find out what he knows. It'll be at least Monday until I can follow up on what I found at Mike's. Everything is paused.”

  He agreed it was a frustrating time. He had things he would rather be doing than nailing on old siding or watching her bond with Sebastian.

  She was relaxed, her head in Lewis's lap, drifting in and out as she watched the flames dancing in the fireplace, when Sebastian called to make sure they were still having a knitting lesson. Even though she had offered to teach Lewis and he refused, she still felt a little bad about Lewis not being a part of it.

  A fter exchanging greetings Lewis left, saying he had things to do. He ignored the look Sebastian gave him and the sigh Gwen let out. If they thought he was going to sit around and bake cookies while they had a knitting date, they were mistaken.

  “Everything as it should be?” Sebastian asked.

  “I think this makes him feel inadequate or something along those lines. It can't be easy to admit the one thing you have trained for is too much to handle alone.”

  Sebastian pursed his lips together. It wasn't fair she should feel bad for Lewis. If she knew why he was inadequate, it would be a wholly different set of emotions she had.

  He walked over to the mostly dry yarn. “This is beautiful. Burgundy is my favorite color.”

  “I was thinking I might make you a scarf. It would contrast beautifully with the grays and blacks you wear,” she said, watching him move as he walked over and sat on the chair beside the couch.

  “What do you need me to make you?”

  “You could make a hat; they are easy beginner projects.”

  “Perhaps, but what would you make yourself, if you were working with that yarn?”

  She looked at him, his face held a defiant I can do anything look.

  “Okay, I would make a shawl. Something with interesting lines. Maybe even a half circle”

  “Perfect. Teach me how to do that. I like the idea of my shawl wrapping around you.”

  She swallowed and smiled. It was a lovely thought, but not really something to take on as a first
project. “That I am afraid would take some time.”

  “I have time.”

  “Do we have time? I thought this was pressing.”

  “I am a quick study, love.”

  “Fine, how about we make a start with some practice yarn and see just how quick a study you are?” she asked, and cocked an eyebrow, looking at him in a way that indicated she didn't think he was up to the task.

  “A challenge? You are a constant source of joy.”

  She cut her eyes at him. “Things are, they are still…” she started, but wasn't even sure what things were.

  He put up both hands. “They are as you wish. Let me see the study yarn.”

  She got some bigger yarn and huge needles to teach him on and explained that the yarn and needles they would be using would be much smaller and more delicate.

  “Should we start with something smaller then and save time?” he asked.

  “You're not accustomed to being the student, are you?”

  He smiled and leaned back in his chair.

  “There is a reason we are starting off this way. You need to get used to the motions before you also have to worry about the yarn slipping off,” she said.

  After he agreed she was the teacher, she showed him how to cast on, which he practiced for a little while before she showed him how to knit and purl. She watched, trying not to laugh as the last few stitches he made fell off the end of his needles. She wouldn't normally laugh at him struggling, but since he thought he would be such a natural, she found it amusing.

  He looked up and smiled at her, taking her breath away as he always did when his eyes locked on her. “I'm much better at hands on learning,” he said, and walked over to the couch where she was sitting. He sat down beside her and gently turned her so her back was facing him.

  She felt herself holding her breath as his arms reached around her, slowly working down her arms to her hands. It took a lot of effort to steady her hands and not drop the needles as his fingers laced over hers.

  “Show me how to knit,” he said, his words caressing her soul as they danced across her ear.

  He was so close she could feel his breath on her skin and the heat of his body against hers.

  She closed her eyes. Knitting was not sexy, knitting was relaxing. When she opened her eyes, she pushed away the thoughts of how he felt pressed against her, and focused on her knitting. Her hands slowly started to work stitches. As they moved and the needles clicked she relaxed in his arms.

  “Show me purl now,” he said, crashing all the calm she had achieved, and again she was aware of him behind her, aware of his hands on hers.

  Again as she knitted, he slowly disappeared as her mind gave over to the relaxing rhythm.

  Sebastian became lost in the rhythm of her hands and steady clicking sound of the needles. The scent of roses begged him to bury his head in her shoulder and nuzzle her ear. Her relaxed breathing was soothing, peaceful. She was the only thing that had given him peace since he was turned.

  As he sat behind her, her relaxing against him, he realized this was what he craved, her touch, her scent, her presence. He craved her. The room seemed to still. The clicking stopped and she sighed, her head leaning back on his shoulder. Her scent begged him to kiss her skin. He slowly leaned down, his lips hovering just above the skin on her neck.

  Gwen felt his breath on her neck, and the tingles it sent racing across her skin made her let out a sigh. As she felt herself slipping back against him, she fought against her own desire and pulled herself away slightly. “Practice those stitches,” she said finally, and sat up, taking her peace with her.

  He walked back to the chair and closed his eyes, allowing his hands to mimic her motions.

  After some time passed she checked to see he had made lovely progress. She showed him some increases and decreases that he would need to make any lace or lines in a shawl. He was a quick study as he said he would be.

  “Did you want to learn to read a pattern, maybe something basic to start with?” she asked

  “How are you? Getting tired?”

  She stood up and stretched. “A little, but pattern reading is pretty basic.”

  He agreed and she went over one of the hat patterns she had from Kathy with him.

  “I've already made this if you want to take notes on it or something.”

  “No, tell me what you want in a shawl, sweetheart.”

  “Sebastian, seriously, just make something basic. I will have your scarf done in a few days. Do you like cables?”

  “Cables?”

  Gwen smiled and walked to the room she had made into her craft room. When she came back, she had a book that showed various cabled scarves.

  He looked at several and showed her which styles caught his eyes. She was surprised that they were what she would have picked for him.

  “Now, your shawl. Do you have a book with what you would make for yourself with this yarn if you had the time?”

  She talked with him briefly about design elements and then he followed her to the craft room to see some designs she had been contemplating making.

  He looked around the room and smiled at seeing this intimate side of her. It was so far removed from witches, vampires, and killers. He hoped that soon she could sit in there without such cares and rock in her recliner while she knitted.

  “What?” she asked, seeing the smile on his face.

  “Every little thing,” he said.

  “Not now. Now we have to think about William and Lizzy, and even Mike. They are all counting on me.”

  “I worry you are backing a killer into a corner. What if you do it during the day when I can't be here?”

  “I'm a witch. More powerful than you, so you say.”

  “Potentially, we stopped lessons when, well, we need to teach you more things so you can control it should you need to use it.”

  She looked down. “Soon. We have other things to do.”

  “You can't hunt killers at night. Let me teach you again.” He reached out, taking her hand. “Please, let me help you be what you should be.”

  She left her hand in his, enjoying the way it felt. Gentle, yet strong. Everything about him was dual natured. “Let's get this bond sorted. When our nights are not spent knitting, we can practice.”

  “We should work on both. There would be no damsel in distress if you could master the elements.”

  “I wouldn't need you then.”

  He huffed in false protest. “No, you wouldn't need me. Not for most things. But the increase in power you get from me will take your magnificence and amplify it. Besides, I am hoping you will want me, regardless of need.”

  She returned his smile and pulled her hand back. “Let's talk more about the magic tomorrow. I'm tired and tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”

  He agreed and she walked him to the door. There was an awkward pause.

  “Did you want me to stay? Where is Lewis?” he asked.

  Gwen reached out her magic, caressing the area and making Sebastian smile. “I don't feel him. That's strange.”

  “I can stay or you can stay at my place again,” he offered.

  “No, Lewis often runs off. He'll be back. I can't hide in a hole every time I have to be alone.”

  “No, I agree but right now. At least until things are sorted with either the killer or your magic, I wish you would indulge my protectiveness.”

  “No, you go. I'm tired, I'll go right to bed.”

  He turned to walk away but paused again. “Why don't I at least stay until I must go?”

  “Fine,” she relented, more because she was way too tired to stand there in the cold doorway arguing the point.

  While she slept, he looked through patterns and practiced techniques, trying to decide what he wanted to make for her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  L ewis landed on the balcony railing on the second story of the small two-story house. The clapboard siding was light green with dark brown trim. There was nothing exceptional to dis
tinguish it from any of the other houses on the street. The smell of licorice and burning incense floated out of the opened door.

  “’Tis some visitor tapping at my chamber door,” a silky voice said from inside the room. The statement was followed by a sweet yet sinister laugh.

  Lewis shifted and walked into the room. He looked at the beautiful woman stretched out on the bed. She was tall, and sleek with light definition in her muscles. Her long, slim legs caught his eyes and he lingered where they met at her hips. The soft light from a lamp beside her bed danced across her chocolate skin as he trailed his gaze up.

  She looked at him with amusement behind her dark brown eyes. “I didn't beckon,” she said, sitting up and looking at him as he walked over to her.

  “No, I'm here for my want this time.”

  “Oh,” she whispered, and stood, walking over to him. “I imagined you'd tire of that little girl soon, lover.”

  Lewis pushed the image of Gwen that flashed in his mind away. Everything he had done so far had been for Gwen. Even being with Fannie had been for Gwen at the start.

  When her long fingers trailed up his neck, into his hair, and she pulled him into a kiss, Gwen vanished from his mind.

  He could not love like Gwen needed, but he did enjoy the sensations of flesh against his magical form, and he wanted Fannie who required no love in return.

  Her hands explored him, her lips trailing behind, leaving him craving more.

  He easily lifted her off the floor, depositing her back on the bed. He paused a moment longer, looking at her as she lay there, her eyes taunting him, before he crawled on top of her.

  Hours later, laying intertwined in her legs, in sheets drenched in sweat, Lewis let a moment of nothingness wrap around him like a blanket. For that moment, he didn't worry about anything. He didn't feel anything other than her skin against him.

  When worries started to trail back into his thoughts, she took him to that place again, and again, until he lay there exhausted.

  “I should go,” he said finally, when he had the energy to sit up.

  “Should you? Did you bring me something of hers?”