The Highwayman

by Michele Hauf

  “Yes to being sick from it. No to hunger. As for curiosity, you tell me.” He propped his elbows on the table. His deep blue eyes looked tired, perhaps even lost. “What does that danish taste like?”

  She examined the bite speared upon the silver fork. “You never ate a pastry before you were unable?”

  “When I was growing up, pastries were a luxury, only available to the aristocrats. I’ve never had one.”

  “That’s so incredible.”

  Turning her fork, she displayed the soft, oozing cheese on the flaky slivers of pastry. “It’s sweet and decadent.” She took another bite. “Rich, like velvet and fine parchment.”

  “Parchment? Doesn’t sound like something I want to eat.”

  “Melt-in-your-mouth-flaky stuff. Trust me, Max, you want to taste this.” She popped the rest of the wedge into her mouth. “You’re missing something wonderful.”

  He leaned forward, hands tucked under the table, and whispered, “If I knew you better, I’d kiss you so I could taste it. That’s the only way I can taste food.”

  Aby sat back, bits of danish still lying on her tongue. A kiss? The suggestion startled her. And excited her.

  But she knew better.

  “Kisses are so personal.”

  “That they are.”

  He sat back, drawing with him the sensual energy that had seemed to coil about her shoulders in a welcoming hug. As his heat receded, goose bumps arose on her flesh.

  “Sorry,” he offered. “That was forward. So, can I ask you some questions?”

  “Give it a try.”

  “Are you really retired?”

  She sighed.

  “Right, not discussing business. Let’s try this one. That man who’s standing outside the front window, talking to another man—should I be leaving quickly?”

  Aby spied Severo outside, talking to a client whose face she recognized but whose name she’d forgotten. She’d forgotten, too, that today was one of her and Severo’s usual twice-a-week meetings.

  “He usually doesn’t come inside. This is a vegetarian restaurant and he says if they don’t serve red meat, then he doesn’t want to know. But maybe you should leave.”

  “Tell me something first. Is he your boyfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Why doesn’t that come out of your mouth like you mean it? Never mind. I’m being too personal again.” He stood and sucked down another swig of water. “Can we have the uncomfortable conversation later at your house?”

  She was all for continuing the conversation. Sharing time with this intriguing man. Finding out what other things he’d skillfully avoided telling her about.

  But alone together at her home? Aby’s reply came out before her mind could weigh the cons against the benefits. “Sure.”

  “Will I get past the wards?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “What about the werewolf?”

  “He won’t be there. Promise.”

  That seemed to appease him.

  Aby watched him swagger toward the back door, and really, it was a swagger. He walked like a man who didn’t care, a man relaxed within his skin.

  She dug in her purse for a twenty, left it for the waiter, then walked out the front.

  Severo greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Aby slid into his embrace as if slipping on a beloved sweater. He smelled masculine and safe, like meadows and dirt. She had developed an intense connection to him, and when she was away from him for more than a few days, she usually found herself teary-eyed at his absence.

  “How was breakfast?”

  “Delicious, as usual.” Today’s came with the added bonus of a handsome and mysterious man to savor. “What’s up with you today?”

  “I’m going out of town for the weekend. Wanted to touch base with you and see if you’ll be all right.”

  “Sev, I’m a big girl. You know I’ll be fine.” Would she be? Of course. A weekend was but two days.

  “I worry about you.”

  “You shouldn’t. How will I learn to fly if you’re still tugging on the reins?”

  “You wound me, sweetness.”

  “Sorry.” She turned in his embrace and put her head upon his shoulder. It felt so right here in his embrace, so safe. But not exciting like the way she felt with Max. “I’ll be fine.”

  Unless the demon that had attacked last night really was after her. She didn’t want to worry Severo, and she did need some distance between them. She could do this independence thing. Heck, she could go for an adventure like those in Dumas’s stories.

  “Give me a call on Saturday if you like.”

  “I will. You haven’t heard more from that highwayman?”

  She tucked her head against the warm fibers of his shirt. “No.”

  He tilted up her chin. Severo’s gaze never failed to touch her core, reading her mind even before she formed the thoughts herself. “Why are you lying, Aby?”

  He knew her so well. His deep brown eyes sought her truths, and Aby found she could never look at him and keep a lie for long.

  He turned her wrist so the tattooed words were right before her eyes. “I had you do this for a purpose. This is your life, Aby. There are few things of great import, but avoiding that man is one of them.”

  “I know, I know!”

  “And what does it say on the bottom line there?” He tapped her wrist.

  Tiny words read: My enemy: the Highwayman.

  “I did see him again.” She spoke quickly to stifle Severo’s huffing anger. “But I didn’t talk to him long. He won’t bother me. He understands now that I’m…retired.”

  “You told him you were retired? Why the lie? Why not tell him you’re not interested?”

  Severo would never understand her need to retire, to just…be. To discover herself and maybe find romance, a real relationship with a man who could love her without needing to bring demons to this world. It could happen. She’d never give up hope.

  “Maybe if he thinks I’m retired he won’t feel compelled to kill me.”

  “I looked into his eyes, Aby.” His grip on her intensified. “That man is a murderer. Hell, I won’t leave if he’s still in town.”

  “I’m sure he’s gone by now.”

  “I can’t smell him. I couldn’t get a scent off him. So strange.”

  Severo could scent a candy bar in the middle of the Sahara desert. His wolf senses were very acute.

  “He’s gone, Sev. Go and do whatever you have to do, and don’t worry about me. I have the appointment with Grim this weekend, and I think I’ll go paint shopping next week. I want to redo the bathroom. I’m going to be fine.”

  He cupped her hand and kissed the knuckles. “Very well. But I leave town with great reluctance. Something’s up with you. I don’t know what it is, but I’m crushed you won’t tell me about it.”

  “I’m trying on independence and liking it.” She stroked a hand over his beard-stubbled cheek and through his long brown hair. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” He kissed her at the corner of her mouth, where he usually did, but this time it felt intrusive, almost as if he was trying to claim her.

  Why, she wondered, did it suddenly bother her?

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  Chapter 6

  T his time when Aby opened the door, she stepped aside, as if to allow him entry. Max took that as a good sign.

  He conjured his best you-can-trust-me smile.

  Aby took a few moments to ascertain said trustworthiness, drawing her gaze from his smile to his shoulders and then down to his cowboy boots. It felt awkward. He was accustomed to a blatant dressing-down from women, but never before like this. This was personal.

  Of course, what did he expect from this woman? Her job did involve sex. And lots of it. She must be comfortable with her sexuality and men.

  What the hell am I getting myself into?

  Could he accomplish task number two, then deliberately move onto number three?

  “What’s t
he magic word?” she asked, green eyes gleaming.

  “Abracadabra?”

  “In some magics, yes. But not for entrance into my home, Highwayman.”

  “All right, let’s try ‘please.’”

  She beamed. “You’re very talented. Got that one on the second try. I grant you permission to cross into my home.”

  He stepped forward across the threshold, yet felt the wards resist. The magical protections sought the shadow within him. They tugged at his flesh, as if the exodermis were being shifted over his musculature.

  “That hurt, didn’t it?”

  Hell, yes, it hurt like a mother. He managed a gruff affirmative noise.

  “So what is it that keeps you out of my home?” she asked, gesturing him to sit on the Victorian-style sofa heaped with an assortment of crazy-colored pillows. “Have you a curse? Picked up some bad mojo over the centuries?”

  Max shook his head as she offered him a glass of some pink stuff, and seated himself on the sofa. He shoved aside the pillows, scattering some on the floor. All this girlie stuff made him uncomfortable.

  “The shadow of a deprivation demon lives inside me.”

  He noticed the elaborate scratching post-cum-adventure climber up against the wall. It took up half the wall. Hmm…

  “That’s right, you mentioned no sleep or food. I’d definitely call that deprived.” She sat on the opposite end of the sofa, tucked among the shaggy pillows as she sipped the pink drink. It smelled sugary yet tart. “How’d that happen?”

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees in a deliberate position that made it harder to look at her. She wore a flimsy blue shirt designed to draw attention to her nipples poking out eagerly. Hip-hugging white pants stopped mid-calf to reveal slender calves and bare feet. She looked summery and sexy.

  And that red hair emphasized her shapely jaw and drew all eyes to her long neck. Heaven help him.

  He was a man, not a machine.

  Max shoved a hand in his coat pocket and fingered the strand of pearls as if it were a rosary. A focus away from the more alluring jewel that sat next to him.

  “You want the whole sordid story?” he asked her.

  “I need it,” she said. “I won’t agree to anything until I know you up, down, backward and forward. You think you can get me by myself to bridge the demon? That’s going to require trust on my part. I don’t let any man work with me.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No, I’ve an assistant who’s worked with me for years. For lives, in fact. Jeremy Stokes. I never do a job without him.”

  “Interesting.”

  Lives? The man had worked with Aby during a life previous to the one she now lived? He wondered how that worked, since familiars didn’t retain memory from one life to the next.

  “So this Jeremy, he…” How to ask? He was curious but he didn’t want to offend her when he needed her to trust him. “You two…”

  “Jeremy and I have sex until I’m sated. That’s how it works for a familiar. We have to be relaxed and completely open.”

  “Yes, I…I know.”

  Yet it had been so long. The intangible mockery of satiation he experienced during dream walking was nothing compared to the real thing. Or so he recalled.

  “And since you’re wondering, I’ll give you the whole setup. The witch waits in a room on the first floor. When I’m ready, Jeremy gives the witch a call, and he comes in to perform the summoning. It’s all very businesslike. It’s not sexy, as you might believe.”

  “But having sex until you’re sated. That isn’t even a little sexy?”

  “It’s satisfying, but, no, not sexy. I look at sex differently than most. I’m uncomfortable talking about it, if you must know.”

  “I apologize. It’s none of my concern.”

  Unless she agreed to help him. Then he’d have to explain how he viewed sex, which was also completely different than anyone else. There wasn’t a man alive who’d trade positions with him. Not for all the money in the world.

  His fingers worked fastidiously at the pearls. Still, it was difficult to focus when the soft hiss of fabric across Aby’s bare legs tempted his tormented desires.

  “What’s with that thing?” He nodded toward the huge pet climber against the wall. It was carpeted and featured climbing poles, hiding nooks and dangly toys.

  “It’s mine.”

  “Yours? So, no pets?”

  “No, Highwayman, no pets. Severo gave it to me after I refused a plant for my moving-in gift. Much as I adore nature, I have no earthly idea what to do with a plant. I’m not big on, well…taking care of things.”

  “You’re used to being taken care of.”

  “Yes, I am. So talk to me, Max. Who are you? What is inside you? And why now, after so long, do you suddenly need to chase this demon out of you?”

  “It’s not a complete demon, just its shadow. It…tries to control me whenever I give it rein.”

  “Then why do so?”

  “Because I need the release. The shadow stalks dreams, Aby. What physical pleasures I can’t enjoy in my life? I can experience vicariously through the dream walk.”

  He expected to find horror in her gaze. But then he presumed one didn’t hang with a werewolf and summon demons without learning all about the paranormal realm.

  “So if someone dreams about eating?” she prompted.

  “I can taste it, but it’s an intangible taste. Never fulfilling.”

  “That’s so sad. How did you get the shadow in you?”

  “It all started on a cold winter’s night in seventeen fifty-eight.”

  “I love a good tale.”

  “Yeah?”

  He’d not repeated this story for ages. But now, with little time to spare as he raced against the madness of deprivation, he decided it was time to dredge out the details once again.

  “I used to ride the high roads with my partner, Rainier Deloche. We were young, arrogant and thought the world owed us whatever we could rip from its fists.”

  “You were mortal?”

  “Yes. Until we agreed to a ridiculous bargain.”

  “Which was?”

  “A stranger wagered my partner and I that together we couldn’t bring a gorgeous woman to complete and utter satiation by having sex with her all night long.”

  “I’m guessing the two of you took that as some kind of challenge to your manhood?”

  “You bet we did.”

  Paris—1758

  The woman was indeed beautiful, as the old man had promised. Max gazed into her soft blue eyes, quite sure he was falling in love. Or rather, stumbling into love, for the whole situation still felt awkward.

  Delicate curls of palest hair framed her small but intense eyes. A pursed mouth so red he thought it would taste of springtime berries beckoned.

  “Nice,” Rainier whispered. He removed his sodden frock coat and dropped it to the floor without regard. The rank odor from the aqueduct still clung to it. “Your husband tell you what we’re here for?”

  “Husband?” The woman sat upon an overwide trundle bed, highly uncommon for the underclass that lived on the left bank of the Seine. “Yes, of course, my husband. He’s brought me two handsome men to ensure my night is blissful. You both are up to the challenge?”

  The challenge, Max thought with a smirk.

  Was she one of those women who couldn’t climax no matter the gyrations and positioning a man used? He’d met a few of those in his lifetime. Wasn’t his responsibility to make sure they came. Sex was for pleasure, and he was here to get what he could.

  “Are you up for the challenge?” Rainier tugged free the string at the top of his shirt and shucked the loose Holland white over his head. He was lean and his muscles taut. The hard life did that to a man, as Max’s own body could attest.

  Max tugged at the jabot wrapped snugly around his neck, fumbling with the knot, not quite at ease. It wasn’t as though he and Rainier had never shared close quarters while making love to two diff
erent women. Taverns and brothels left little for privacy, nor did they require it.

  But they’d never before shared a woman.

  “Shall we take turns?” he asked, and felt an utter lackwit for asking. “I mean, how would you like to do this, madame?”

  She crooked a finger at them. Rainier crawled onto the bed, always eager when invited. Max, wanting to know the flavor of that rosebud mouth, joined him.

  He kissed the woman and spread a hand over her soft, lush hair. Her moan stoked his desire, and he gave little notice as Rainier moved to stroke her belly and lick at her breasts. They’d find a rhythm. One way or another.

  Hours passed and the log in the hearth had been reduced to embers. The woman had climaxed many times, as had Rainier and Max. Each time she came, she cried out softly, as if a lost, mewling kitten.

  As if holding back.

  Now, sprawled in the chair before the fire, naked, his limbs stretched out, Max could barely summon his legs to move him onto the bed. He was sated. And he suspected Rainier was, too, because currently, the man couldn’t find the fast rhythm the woman insisted he achieve.

  If she’d stop holding back and simply succumb to the intensity of climax, perhaps she would tire, too.

  The old man had been right. This woman was impossible to sate. But their very manhood depended on accomplishing the task set to them.

  Hell, Max didn’t require payment now. He just wanted the bragging rights.

  Not that either he or Rainier would brag about this one. Because truthfully, they should have sent this woman to oblivion hours ago. And it wasn’t as though she couldn’t come. She came easily, and for a long time, yet so softly. But then after each climax, cheeks blushed and sweat beading her breasts, she’d merely sigh and ask for more.

  More?

  Max tilted his head toward the door, wondering how soon before morning. This was definitely the celebration swive he’d been thinking about. Only, if he had to rise and attend the woman one more time, he felt sure he’d collapse.

  Maybe they were going about this all wrong. Both he and Rainier had climaxed many times. If they wanted the woman to achieve satiation, surely they had to stop concentrating on their own pleasure and focus solely on hers.