"And why was he doing that?"
"I still don't understand that fully," Lucy admitted. "I know the pack seer said that I was powerful, and would make a mate more powerful. Richard really wanted that to be him. I think that's why he always tried to keep me around him." Lucy looked sad for a moment. "I did love him. I just...he's so concerned with power and his own physical strength. I think he loved having me. But not...me."
Ella nodded. Gerald only stayed with her because of her power, so she knew the feeling.
"Anyway, everything about our interactions indicated that ours was one of those connections. And, to be honest, I kind of couldn't stand to...not find out." She blushed, but met Ella's eyes with a strangely defiant look. It made her want to kiss her, so she did. Lucy pulled her on top of her immediately and plunged her tongue into Ella's mouth, bringing a fresh cry of desire from her lips.
"Lucy," Ella gasped. "We have to get out of here. Now."
"I know." Lucy said sadly. "Richard will kill me. We're definitely not supposed to know about this, and if anybody finds out---"
Ella kissed her again briefly. "They won't. Let's go."
And so they'd dropped everything to run.
Chapter 3
Ella took her car as far as she could and then ditched it, buying supplies in cash along the way. They couldn't be too careful. Lucy kept a lot at the center, since it was basically Richard's second home. It was easy to run, because as far as they were concerned, they only had each other.
Now, they waited in the woods across from the diner, watching a tall woman magic away the blood and bodies Lucy had left in the place. She was wearing robes of brilliant purple, an odd choice given the times, but she didn't seem to care. Claire had appeared just as she said she would, and went to work quickly, wiping the worker's memory and erasing their trail.
When she returned, she eyed the two of them for a moment.
"Powerful," she said finally, seeming surprised. Ella realized she'd been reading their energy. "You are both alphas?"
The two women looked at each other, then back to the mage. Ella shrugged.
"Amazing," she murmured in wonder. She held a hand between the two, and her eyes ran black as she absorbed information from their bond. "Ah. Lucy, you've strengthened Ella. You're powerful, but you're not an alpha. You...you're not even just a lycan. "
"What am I?" Lucy asked, her voice full of fear.
"I'll have to do some research, I think. I can't be sure, because this shouldn't be possible...but Ella, you are the alpha. And...ah," she said softly. "You will rule. It is foretold."
"I know," Ella replied.
"You do now," the mage said, gesturing to Lucy. "It is her that brings you your crown. She was destined to bring her mate immeasurable power...but only if they were worthy. And you were destined to hold incredible power, and bring that mate with you." Claire dropped her hands and ran a hand over her braided hair. She had one long braid of shining chestnut thrown over her shoulder. "It seems you two were destined for each other."
"Bullshit."
All three women whipped around to find the source of the voice. Lucy was so startled she almost fell backwards.
Richard and Gerald were standing in front of them, both fuming. Richard was holding a gun. He began to move toward them, and Ella moved in front of Lucy protectively.
"I have plenty of bullets, bitch." He growled, and threw a wave of power at Ella before she could try to defend herself. It caught her in the chest and she toppled into Lucy, sending both of them flying backwards to land painfully twenty feet away. Ella heard something crunch, and Lucy cried out, holding her arm awkwardly.
"I'm ok," she insisted when Ella tried to look at it. "Let's focus on him."
"How sweet," Richard sneered. "Too bad you're both about to be a mess of blood and bones on the ground."
Ella looked around, searching for the mage. She had disappeared.
"First, though, I'm gonna fuck you, Lucy." He was moving toward them again. Gerald watched quietly, walking forward slowly, like he had all the time in the world.
"And," Richard continued, "I'm gonna make your dyke pal watch. I'm gonna plow the shit out of you, and remind you of how much you love my cock." He raised the gun, aiming it for Ella's midsection. "Let's make this interesting. Maybe you'll bleed out before she comes. Or," he said suddenly, lowering the gun, "maybe I'll fuck both of you. Then again, you don't have to be conscious for that, do you, El---"
Richard never got to go any further. Lucy shoved Ella aside, sending her flying into a tree. Her eyes were burning a bright white, and enormous beams of silvery energy shot out of her knuckles to form into powerful claws. She drove her fist upward and the claws sank into the bottom of his neck and exploded outward through the top of his skull. His eyes bulged outward and his throat opened and closed on nothing, blood bubbling through his lips. Lucy lifted his heavy body into the air with one hand, regarding him disdainfully as his legs jerked spasmodically.
"I'm not yours. I never was."
She flicked his body off her claws and sent him sailing over her shoulder. His body connected with the ground and his spine crumpled with a sickening crunch. Lucy turned to find Ella, and saw her leaning against the trunk, eyes wide with fear.
She rushed over to her, and the claws broke apart and flittered around her body until they faded. Ella guessed she'd absorbed the power back into her body, but she'd never seen anyone make claws out of their own energy, or be able to call more than one type of claw. What was she?
"Your mate," came the mage's voice. She was walking toward them, sporting a bloody gash across her cheek. "The skinny one fought me, and he got away. He looked pretty scared, and I put a tracer charm on him, so we'll know if he comes back." She looked at the two women, huddled together at the foot of a tree. "Are you guys okay?" She asked, furrowing her brow.
Ella nodded, burying her face in the warmth of Lucy's hair. "We're great."
Claire rolled Richard's body away and cut out a chunk of earth with her magic, raising it in the air before levitating him into the hole and burying him. She did all this silently, and Lucy watched her close her eyes and mumble some words in Latin under breath, waving her hand. A chill passed through the air.
"What was that?" Lucy asked.
"Decomposition spell. He's just dust now."
It suddenly struck Ella that this woman was far more powerful than she previously believed, and was thankful to be on her side. "What now?" Lucy pressed her face into Ella's chest. The weight of her ex's death seemed to be finally hitting her.
"Now we get you to protection." Claire took her exquisitely manicured fingers and placed them against a tattoo on her collarbone. It glowed softly, and she muttered, "Twenty miles south of the Utah safe house. Edge of the woods."
"What was that?" Lucy asked again.
"My companion has an enchanted mark that allows me to communicate with her as long as we are both living."
Claire seemed quite unaware of the extraordinary nature of this remark, because she looked at Ella's dumbstruck face and said, "Of course, I've never tested it with someone who was dead, but it may work, depending."
"I just...didn't know something like that existed."
Claire looked surprised now. "Most packs have this, or a variation of this. Even those with strong powers may be able to communicate without marks. It's like telepathy. With practice it can be like sharing a mind. Or becoming one."
Lucy had stopped shaking, and was now looking at Claire with her green eyes narrowed.
"Could you...would it be possible, if you were strong enough...to pop into someone's mind before you were bonded? If they were...say, alone. And...thinking about you very strongly."
Lucy's cheeks were a deep crimson, and Ella had to think for a moment to realize why. She remembered dreaming of exploring her----Lucy's---body passionately in the security office. That was real?
"Oh yes," Claire chuckled. She appeared to be recalling something, and she smiled knowingly
. "It's quite common for powerful lycans to use this as a kind of foreplay."
Ella smiled and buried her face in Lucy's hair. She felt better now that she knew she couldn't help it. She felt better now, period---their bond was secure, permanent, and most of all, real. It worked. And now they had a place to go, and no one to threaten their love. Gerald was still out there, but he wasn't dumb enough to challenge someone stronger than him, let alone two someones.
Lucy seemed to be thinking the same thing. She threw her arms around Ella and kissed her, running her tongue across her bottom lip before nipping it playfully. "I love you," she said.
Ella's heart did a series of cartwheels, and she felt as though she would burst from the joy. "I love you too," she whispered. They were going to be ok. Everything was going to be ok.
The mage straightened her robes, and when the two women broke away from each other, she started moving toward the edge of the wood. The moon illuminated their path, and they walked through the leaves, talking and joking in low voices, feeling free for the first time in weeks. Something crunched behind them, and Ella knew without turning that it was a rabbit. Her senses had heightened along with her power, it seemed. She wondered about any other new developments that could come up, but decided that she would let her mind rest. The leaves swallowed up the sound of their footsteps, and for the first time, Ella wasn't worried about anything.
Seduced By Her Curves
Lesbian Romance
Chapter 1
I woke to find the hotel suite empty. I didn’t need to look around to know I was alone; there is a certain feeling of a place, a kind of stillness and quiet that really can’t be duplicated. It was a feeling I’d become used to, and though I wasn’t surprised, my heart fell into my stomach.
They’ve left me alone. Again.
This trip had been intended as a family vacation, our first in years; and yet, they had gone off to the Aeolian Islands without me, leaving me here in Cefalù. Chloe had probably said I would make the ferry sink, and of course, Dad would have believed her. She’d always had a talent for convincing people of anything, what with her pretty face and her genius IQ, and her slim waist, of course. That makes all the difference. If she didn’t constantly remind me that she was the kind of woman I was supposed to be, I might have liked her. As it was, each time I looked at her, all I could think about was how she maintained that size 6 so easily? Why the fuck couldn’t I be thin like her?
Oh, never mind, I thought. Never mind Chloe, and never mind Dad. Never mind that they’d left me and were probably having the time of their lives right now, without pudgy Stacey to weigh them down. I’d never liked small islands, anyway, or any small spaces for that matter.
I sat up in bed, looking out the window. The ocean was like a bed of sapphires glistening under the clear sky, mostly calm, except near the shore where the water reared up its white head before kissing the golden sand. How could anyone stay in a bad mood looking at such glorious scenery? It certainly beat the view from my office window.
I decide to head out to the beach. Even the disapproving stares silently reprimanding me for having the guts to wear a bikini – I suppose no matter where you go, there are always judgmental people – doesn’t bring me down. I put on my sunglasses and my headphones and lean back in my sun chair, closing my eyes as the salty breeze sweeps over my face. Not for the first time, I fall asleep without knowing, and by the time I wake up, it is sunset, the brilliant orange orb already halfway below the horizon. I sit up and lift my sunglasses to admire the crimson sky.
Beautiful.
From the corner of my eye, I see a couple sitting on the sand, arms around each other and heads pressed together as they watch the sunset. They are so picture perfect I almost wish wasn’t alone, that I, too, had someone beside me to share the moment with. But I dismissed it. It wasn’t like me to be sentimental.
I’m probably just hungry, I think. Yeah, that’s it.
I leave the beach and head to the hotel just behind me, taking a quick shower and then changing before going to the restaurant. I order seafood pasta, stuffed eggplant and arancini, and for dessert, a slice of torta setteveli and a cannoli. The server raises an eyebrow, but I pretend not to see it. Yes, I eat a lot. No, I don’t care about getting bigger than I already am. Most people can’t tell the difference between 150 pounds and 170 pounds anyway. Besides, why skimp on eating when it is just about the best thing about living?
When dinner comes, everything is cooked to perfection, proving my point. It’s better than anything I usually eat back in the U.S. The pasta and the eggplants are just so bright and flavorful, I can’t help but gobble them up. And dessert? Heavenly. Torta setteveli beats Red Velvet by far.
By the time dinner is over, I am full – and have probably gained a few more ounces and inches. I decide to take an evening stroll on the beach, but stop by the women’s restroom first. Right after I push the door open, though, I hear a curse.
My first thought is that I had entered the men’s by mistake, but a glance at the door sign tells me that’s not the case. My next thought is that the restroom was single occupancy, but as I push the door further, I notice a few cubicles. Nope, not single occupancy. It’s small, though.
Peering around the door, I see another woman, standing near the row of sinks.
“Sorry,” I say, wincing, realizing I had probably hit her when I opened the door.
She’s bigger than me, after all. Probably 190 pounds? Though she’s taller, too. And beautiful. Gorgeous olive skin. Eyes as blue as the Mediterranean. Dark brown hair. An Italian? But I had just heard her curse in English…
“It’s okay,” she replies, in perfect English, but I don’t miss the impatience in her voice. I notice she is holding her blouse just below her left armpit. A wardrobe malfunction?
“Um, if you like, I have a sewing kit in my room upstairs,” I tell her. I’m not meddlesome, but I couldn’t ignore a soul in need, especially a kindred one. “I always keep one in handy ‘cause, you know, accidents happen.”
For a moment, she just looks at me, surprised and probably wondering if she can trust me or not. She must have decided on the former, because the corners of her lips turn up into a dazzling smile.
“Really? Oh, thank goodness.”
“I’m Stacey Jennings by the way,” I introduced myself on our way up. “I’m originally from Lafayette, Indiana.”
“I’m Camille Wallace,” she replies. “Originally from Boston.”
“I could have sworn you were a local.”
“Really? I guess I could pass off for one if I weighed a few pounds less.”
We both chuckle. It’s good to find someone who really understands how I feel.
We arrive at my room, and I lend her a shirt as I start sewing her blouse. I order some food and wine from room service, too, after learning that she hasn’t eaten dinner yet.
“It can be repaired, can’t it?” she asks, concern in her voice. “It’s one of my favorite blouses.”
I can understand her worry, knowing how hard it is to find a blouse in our size that still looks good.
“Yup,” I assure her. “It just needs a few stitches. Minor surgery.”
“Thank goodness you have a sewing kit.”
“Are you kidding? After I’ve popped so many buttons and ripped so many seams, I never go around without a sewing kit.”
“Then I’m lucky I bumped into you, or rather, that you bumped into me.”
I grin.
“Seriously, that restroom was tiny.”
I laugh. “Thank goodness for that, I suppose.”
As I sew, and she eats, both of us sipping generously from the Marsala wine, we talk more about various things. Food. Clothes. Guys. Food. Our trips so far. Our (failed) attempts to lose weight. Food. Movies. Music. News back home. Food.
By the time I’d finished with her shirt, which took longer than usual because Camille kept making me laugh, we’d talked about a gazillion things. And we were both a little drun
k.
Alright. More than a little.
As Camille removes the shirt I lent her, I find myself staring at her breasts, and even though I have the same pair, I can’t help but be curious about them. What size is she? Are they as soft as mine?
“Can I?” the words come out without me thinking.
Surprisingly, she nods.
I cup her breasts, amazed by how soft they are, and yet how firm, how they seem to fit perfectly into my large hands. I must have run my thumb across her nipple, because I hear a gasp and I feel her shiver. Unable to resist the temptation, I repeat the action, touching both of her nipples, which quickly stiffen in response.
She moans and the sound is just exquisite, not to mention a turn-on. My own underwear suddenly feels uncomfortable.
The next thing I know we are kissing, our lips clashing, and our tongues, which taste of wine, entangling. She is amazing, and I can’t get enough of her, but suddenly there is a rap on the door and, just like that, the spell breaks.
Shit, I think. Who could that be?
It’s a woman from housekeeping, bringing the extra pillows I had requested at check-in.
I take the pillows and quickly go back to Camille, but she is already dressed and on her feet, her shoulder bag on.
“Thanks, really,” she mumbles, her cheeks red. “But I have to go.”
“Okay.”
I watch her leave the room, too dazed to move. Too late, I realize I should have asked for her number, or maybe her e-mail address, her Twitter handle even. But I haven’t. And now, I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again.
I sit on the edge of the bed, hugging the pillows to my chest.
Strange. Only now that she’s gone do I realize I’m in love with her. I know it’s crazy. It’s impossible. How can I be in love with someone I just met, and a woman like me, no less? Still, I’m sure, more sure than I’ve ever been of anything in my twenty-five years of existence. But what does it matter? I’ll probably never see her again.
Hang Em' Up: A Bad Boy Sports Pregnancy Romance Page 43