Boundless

by Annie Dean

  Teresa slid her hands up to his head. “Yes, oh yes, that’s … good.”

  “What about this?” Dev licked a path around her nipple, each turn tighter than the last until his lips focused on the bud. Sucked.

  His hair felt like cool silk against her fingers and she tangled them, needing to hold on. “Y-yes. I like it.”

  “Oh, Tess,” he whispered into her skin, sounding almost humbled. “It’s working. You want me. Me.”

  Safe bet. She felt soft, slick and incomplete, full of an ache she’d never known quite this way. “You. Only you.”

  With a muffled sound, he raised his head from her breast and kissed her, a ravenous demon lover who thrust past her lips and stroked with his tongue, long drugging moments where her mouth clung to his. The still cavern air grew heavy with nutmeg and cloves, the scent of his excitement. His intensity washed over her in waves, eons of desire for which he had no outlet. Until now.

  He ran his fingers down over her ribs and she giggled a little. That impulse faded when he cupped her mound, pressing down gently with the heel of his hand. “And here, Tess? Can I touch you? Will you like it?”

  “You don’t … need to ask permission anymore.”

  “I know. I want to hear you say it.”

  “Then yes. Y-yes, I want it. Touch me … down there.”

  A cry broke from her as his fingers slipped between her labia. She heard the soft sounds her body made. Intense. Almost unbearable. Teresa lifted her hips, not knowing whether she wanted more or to get away. This was nothing like rubbing against a blanket.

  Her pelvis felt as if she needed to bear down, and she recognized the need to take her man inside her. Clasp him close and tight. Dev didn’t stop stroking her, but surely she was ready—

  He rolled half atop her, wedging his thigh between hers. “Move. Show me how you like it.”

  As if she had no control over her own body, she rubbed against his leg, gasping as the pressure opened her up against his skin. With an odd, anguished expression, he watched her face, holding himself above her on his arms. Teresa rocked her hips faster.

  The sensation spun outward until she moaned and shuddered, lost to everything but him. She sang his name.

  “Your bliss is the nearest thing to Heaven that I shall ever see.” But when she reached for his erection, he pushed her hand away. “Don’t.”

  He slid out of the sleeping bag, clothing himself in the same motion. Tess sat up, dizzy and bewildered. “Dev?”

  “Get dressed. We’re done here.”

  “I don’t understand. We didn’t…” Without regard for her nakedness, she stood and reached for him again.

  His desolate expression stopped her cold. “As you love me, I beg you not to touch me. Only the fact that I’ve fed recently saves you now. Please don’t test my good intentions.” He gave a haunted laugh. “As you know the road to Hell is paved with them.”

  Something was very wrong, but she thought she understood. “It’s all right, I promise. I’m willing to take the chance.”

  “I’m not. Get dressed. I won’t ask again.” He swiped a hand across his brow as if she possessed the power to make a demon sweat. “I never thought I’d have this problem with you.”

  Her hands had too many thumbs, but she managed to put her clothes back on somehow. It didn’t seem real as she watched him packing up their things. He left the air mattress out in order to fill the duffel with the most portable treasure, as she’d asked.

  “Dev,” she tried again. “We’ll have a lifetime together…”

  And he whirled on her with a look so bleak it broke her heart. “We’d have a lifetime for you. It would pass in a wink for me, and then you’d be gone. I’ll be alone, not knowing whether I’ve sent you to burn forever in my place. There’s no afterlife for one such as me, just an eternity on Earth without you. I cannot do this. I won’t.”

  Tess bit her lip until she tasted copper, trying to control her rising desperation. Time itself ran against them. She had to persuade him. Somehow.

  “But you’ll be free.” Tears thickened her throat. “You’ll have the wind on your skin. If you go back, you’ll never see the sky again. And no matter where I am, it will be enough if when you fly, you think of me.”

  A dragon’s tortured wrath rang in his words, echoed off the walls. “What is freedom without you? What good are wings? I would never be able to fly fast enough or far enough to escape the loss. You taught me everything good and beautiful that I know. I’m sorry, Tess.”

  And she had her answer.

  The demon wept.

  Demon tears. Dragon tears. Either way, they were rare and precious. Wanting so desperately to touch him, she lifted a hand and then let it flutter to her side again. She no longer had his permission.

  Dev turned away, bowed his head as if in prayer. When he faced her again he had himself under control. “Come.” He sounded hard and cold as iron. “It’s time to leave this place. I can walk you as far as the valley. I should have that much time left.”

  “We could fly, one last time.”

  In the reflected light from the Coleman lantern, she saw the truth in his eyes. He would never fly again.

  Dev went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “At the base of the mountain, there’s a village … or there used to be. I’m afraid you’ll have to rely on your own ingenuity to find a buyer, my pretty one. But … I believe in you. I expect great things.”

  “Thank you.”

  Because it was heavy, he shouldered the pack. Her eyes burned as she followed him back up through the twisting labyrinth. Atop the mountain, the sun rose high in a clear blue sky. Nearly noon. If she remembered right, Dev had come to her at sundown.

  So he would leave her then as well.

  To her wonderment, as they walked, he offered more stories to distract her from what would happen at twilight. “Yes, I was Melusine. I married Count Siegfried of the Ardennes, but contrary to popular legend, I bore him no children. For obvious reasons.” He smiled with such wistful longing that she had to close her eyes and follow blind.

  All too soon, they reached the bottom of the trail, opening to a plush green valley. “The village should lay due south of here. Perhaps you can appeal to the church for help.” With a tilt of his head Dev acknowledged the irony of that.

  The sun sat lower in the sky, a disc of molten gold. Dev tipped his face up, as if capturing the feel of the wind on his skin one last time. She watched him in turn, memorizing the way his hair curled against his neck and the sharpness of his nose.

  Would he vanish as he’d done in the chapel? Be called away in a whirl of boiling black smoke? How could she bear it?

  Curiosity had always been her chief fault. So in their final moments, she asked, “Do you love me?”

  Perhaps that would be obvious to anyone else, but even so she wanted the words. To her surprise he appeared to consider and then shrugged. “I don’t know. What is love?”

  Shadows crept along the ground. Soon they would take him.

  Her reply caught on a sob. “Love is what makes you real.”

  The last ray of sunlight angled down like Jacob’s ladder. Her mother had always said that was how angels reached Earth. As the beam slanted across their bodies, he screamed, and his face flushed the scarlet of a squalling newborn. Teresa smelled sulfur and the awful stench of burning skin. He fell, leaden.

  With a cry of pure horror, she knelt. She hadn’t known she would have to watch him die. Taking his hand in hers, she smoothed his palm with her fingers. What can I do?

  She prayed while he writhed. He didn’t seem to be dissipating. Instead his pain became more pronounced, more … real. His flesh lost its unnatural sheen so slowly that she thought she must be imagining it.

  I must be delusional. So Teresa double-checked the thready pulse in his wrist. Awed, she watched his chest rise and fall, counted his shallow breaths.

  Real.

  Just to be sure, she tugged at his clothing. A black pullover—he’d need to
take it off just like anyone else. It couldn’t be willed away. Same with his pants, she tested those as well. And found something in the pocket.

  Drunk with wonder, she lifted the wallet and opened it. Read the ID cards contained therein. Let him wake now. Not me.

  As if he heard her silent call, his lashes fluttered up. Eyes of summer sky gazed up at her in sweet bewilderment.

  “I was right,” she told him, softly exultant. “They were never testing me, Dev. This was about you. Redemption. Second-chances.”

  “So I am judged worthy of you?” Pure reverence laced his tone. “I’m … real?”

  Dev tilted his head, gave his arm a little pinch, and then his mouth fell open in astonishment. “It hurts!”

  “Sometimes,” Teresa said and then paraphrased the quote. “But when you’re real you don't mind being hurt.” She wondered whether he would remember this part of The Velveteen Rabbit.

  Pushing to his knees, he reached for her and buried his face in her hair. His words came in a shaky rush. “Will I age? Can we make babies? Will you read to them about the velveteen rabbit?”

  “I don’t know, love. We’ll work it out as we go along.”

  “I expect I shall do all the man things now, like go bald, watch sports, and leave hair in the drain. I’ll get all wrinkly and knobby-kneed, won’t I? I won’t always be beautiful.” Pausing, he drew back and regarded her with a half-frown, as if he thought that might prove a sticking point for her.

  Tess made a sound, half-laugh, half-sob. “Nor will I.”

  “Yes, you will,” he said, solemn as a vow.

  She touched his cheek. “There’s no end to the miracles today. Your name is Marcus Devlin and apparently you’re a master carpenter.”

  “Am I?” He blinked, as one awakening from a dream and then smiled, covering her fingers with his. “Well, I’ve been told I’m good with my hands.”

  Teresa squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “You are. You write your own ticket from now on, my love. Your soul is your own. But, Dev … you can’t fly anymore.” Part of her feared he would resent the change.

  “I have the memory of it. And you. I don’t need to.”

  She could breathe again. “Then there’s just one question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How are we getting out of the Pyrenees?”

  At that he shook his head, grinning with pure devilry. “No, right now, the pressing question is, where’s the best spot for us to finish what we started?”

  “You still want to?” She didn’t mean to sound coquettish.

  As he pushed to his feet, his smile widened. “Are you kidding? I have to warn you, though, I don’t think I’ve got any…” He paused as if seeking the word. “Preliminaries left in me.”

  “Foreplay, you mean.”

  “Yeah. That. I feel like I might die if I don’t have you.” His voice dropped low. “And since I’m just getting started here, I don’t think we should take that chance.”

  She agreed with a solemn nod. “Best not to risk it.”

  “So you’re not going to insist on a bed of rose petals?”

  For a moment she pretended to consider while he squirmed. Tess pointed. “No. That bed of grass looks just fine.”

  With a flourish he carried her there, the pack dangling from his other hand. Dev cursed the dragon gold as he sought a sleeping bag. While she undressed, he tore his shirt over his head. Then she enjoyed watching him struggle with his pants.

  “Accursed hell,” he spat, eyes blazing. “How does this…”

  “Here.” She unzipped him, slid her fingers inside the placket. He felt nearly the same, hard and hot and sleek, but this time he pulsed with life too. “Let me.”

  For a moment, he stood still while she stroked him, his face tight with pleasure. “Please, Tess. Not with your hand. Not this time. I need to be part of you.”

  “You are.”

  They lay down together, their skin spangled with Spanish moonlight. Dev eased between her thighs. No virgin sacrifice, she wrapped her arms about his back. Fine gold hair dusted his chest now, his arms and legs. His eyes widened as he pushed into her body. It hurt a little, but she trusted him and remembered the pleasure.

  “Oh,” he gasped, trembling. “Oh Tess, this is…”

  Heaven.

  She lifted her hips as she pulled him down for a kiss. Dev worshiped her lips with his as he began to move, awkward at first. He pulled back to brace on his arms and watch her face on each luscious push-pull. The slow, luxurious friction roused a higher urgency, so she answered it, moving beneath him.

  Tess glorified in the rasp of his breathing and his heart thundering against hers. “You can go a … little faster. I like this too.”

  “Yes.” His head fell back. “Faster. I don’t know what I’m doing. All those things I said about teaching you … but this is n-nothing like what I did … before.”

  “Good.” Fiercely she wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him deeper. “I don’t want it to be.”

  Dev hunched into her, sinking into some rhythm that clenched his buttocks against her calves. “It’s all new. Oh Tess. Tess.”

  He shook in her arms, arched into her, and she felt the throb of his heartbeat as he peaked. The pleasure of giving her lover an orgasm sent a vicarious thrill through her body. And then she realized the feeling came from his wicked fingers.

  “I know I didn’t do it quite right,” he whispered into her ear. “But I’ll get better if we practice.” He pressed atop her mound. “Promise.”

  Her turn to twist and quake—Tess tipped her head back and saw his face.

  Later, after they’d eaten the crackers and downed the iced tea, she lay in his arms. Basked in his warmth, cozy within the thermal sleeping bag.

  They talked softly of possible plans for getting back to Pittsburgh, resolved none. They spoke of the charity they would start with his secret hoard. Once the foundation functioned independently they would search out the rest of his dragon gold. At the moment she didn’t care if they built a hut in this valley and caught fish from a mountain stream. Perhaps that would change.

  He made a contented sound, nuzzling her throat. “So your brother will murder me if I don’t marry you. Want to save me again?”

  “Not without a proper proposal and a ring, I don’t. Ask me when you’ve put some thought into it.”

  Tess realized she had a calling to be a carpenter’s wife after all.

  The End

  About the Author:

  In her life, Annie has been a clown, a clerk, a savior of stray kittens, voice actress, and the mistress of a Lebanese nobleman, not necessarily in that order. She grew up in a yellow house across from a cornfield, but now she lives in sunny Mexico with her husband and two adorable children who sometimes do as they are told.

  The Straw Man

  Bonnie Dee

  “Happy Halloween! Beware of bats tonight, children. They might scoop you up and carry you away.” Marie cackled like a crone and squinted her eyes frighteningly as she grinned at the Weiderman twins. She wiggled her toes in her tight shoes, glancing down at the black leather points that clamped them into unnatural positions. Her feet were killing her and her long, black witch’s dress was broiling hot on this sunny afternoon.

  “Thank Granny Goodwitch for the pumpkins, kids.” Don Weiderman nudged his awestruck six-year-olds.

  Kevin’s mouth snapped shut and he ducked behind his dad, while his braver sister, Lydia, dutifully whispered, “Thank you, Granny Goodwitch.”

  Marie smiled and laughed again. “Thank you. See you next year.”

  The twins clambered into the pickup truck and their father shut the door behind them. They peered out through the rear window at her, their pale, round faces like twin moons.

  “Thanks again. It always makes it real special for the kids, coming here to buy their pumpkins,” Weiderman said as he loaded a tawny oval pumpkin and a plump round one as bright as copper into the bed of the pickup.

&
nbsp; “It’s a pleasure. I love seeing how excited they are about something as simple as choosing a pumpkin. Halloween’s such a special time for kids. It was always my favorite holiday. Looks like it’ll be good weather for trick-or-treating tonight.”

  “Shouldn’t be too cold either.”

  They both looked up at the clear, blue sky overhead and the flock of Canada geese winging in a perfect V-pattern high above. Their loud honking and the breeze rustling through the dried cornstalks were the only sounds to disturb the quiet country air.

  Marie ran a finger under the tight collar of her uncomfortable, long-sleeved dress and wished it was at least a little cooler. The weather was unseasonably hot for the end of October. “Be sure and bring the kids out tonight,” she said. “I look forward to seeing them in their costumes.”

  She waved as the Weidermans drove off, two curves of orange pumpkins visible above the tailgate of their pickup.

  It was bittersweet living in a small town where she knew everyone and they knew her. The years slipped by but the patterns remained the same. The children grew into gawky adolescence and new wide-eyed little ones took their place, but everything else remained the same. Exactly the same. Or so it felt to Marie today. One season bled into the next and before she knew it another year was gone.

  Sighing, she sank down on her metal folding chair at the edge of the field next to Sam the Friendly Scarecrow. The dummy, which hung on a T-frame, wore an ancient black fedora cocked at a jaunty angle and a shabby, black topcoat. Beneath the coat was a blue, cotton shirt and navy pants stuffed full of straw and tied at the cuffs. Old, brown work boots were attached at the bottom of the pants.

  She looked up at the primitive face she’d scrawled with magic marker on white muslin and thought Sam didn’t look very friendly this year. His eyebrows were thick and fierce, his eyes up-tilted at the corners, his nose a straight slash and his mouth a grim line. He definitely appeared more severe than jolly. Maybe the face she’d drawn was a reflection of her own bitter mood, which had descended on her a few months ago like a storm cloud that refused to move on. Maybe the scarecrow was her alter ego, the dark side she kept hidden from the world.