by Unknown
Lucien sets the statue on the ground. He is bristling with anger. He grabs the noose and flings it off the neck of the witch.
“What is it?” she asks, frightened.
He composes himself. She can see the emotions struggling on his face.
“It is nothing,” he says. “Come away, Shannon.”
He grabs hold of her arm and leads her away from the statue. She turns to gaze at it. The witch’s face is just as exquisitely fashioned as the rest, and it appears to wear a saddened expression. Or maybe it is just the play of the growing shadows.
They exit the maze, her mind in a whirl. There is so much she wants to ask him. Obviously, the statue was not hung there by his design. Who did that? And what does it mean?
Once they are away from the maze and back in the gardens, he calms down.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he says.
“Are you all right, Lucien?”
“Yes. I am.” He says this as much to assure himself as her, she senses. “Come, let’s go into the hotel.”
He puts his arm around her again, and she is glad for his embrace in a different way this time. Once they are inside the reception, the wedding party is in full force again. The guests are trooping down the stairs from the second level, where the ballroom is situated. The laughter and gaiety and finery help put Shannon at ease. It is as though the whole incident of the maze didn’t happen.
She has her last clue.
Hanging rope.
Pieced together, it would have to mean something. But she doesn’t dare ask Lucien what it means tonight. Not with what happened.
He pauses for a while as a stream of giggling bridesmaids dressed in identical green gossamer gowns troop past them. Then he turns to her.
“Would you like to come up to my suite for some coffee?”
His beautiful face is solemn. Whatever demons which had passed through his head have clearly been exorcised.
The suggestion is unmistakable.
Do I really want to do this? she asks herself.
The events of the day and night are starting to take a toll on her now. The accident, arriving at Dolphin’s Bay, the arm-wrestling duel, meeting Lucien Walker, the wonderful dinner and its aftermath at the maze. She’s tired, despite her afternoon nap, but also in need of refuge. And if she were to be honest with herself, she does not want to return to her hotel suite alone – although that would be the best alternative.
She is certain Jared isn’t there anyway. He has probably gone out to explore whatever it is he is compelled to explore.
Tomorrow, they would have to look for a place to live. A rental apartment, perhaps. Or maybe even a little cottage. Hopefully one with a garden. They have lots of money to tide them over. The taken money had been a final act of vengeance by Jared for what those people back at Tupelo did to her.
But tonight has been almost magical up to the final point. And she doesn’t want it to end, even though she knows it will.
“OK,” she replies.
“Shannon, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“I’m not doing anything I don’t want to.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” she says with more confidence than she feels. Her stomach is all fluttery again, as though batwings are brushing its lining.
“Great. Then let’s go.”
He leads her to a row of elevators. The doors hiss open and a staid elderly couple gets out. They both favor the attractive young pair with an approving glance.
Once the elevator doors have closed behind them and they are alone, Lucien grabs her waist.
“Luc – ” she begins, but he cuts her off with a kiss that takes her breath completely away.
His lips are supple and soft and hard and pliant all at the same time, and she is transported to a higher plane of existence where the clouds are soft and white and bad things never happen to beautiful people. His tongue thrusts between her lips, seeking entry. She opens her mouth and lets him in. The thrill of the contact tumbles from her abdomen to her toes and back again.
With their intimacy raised to another level, his hands move around her waist to stroke her back. And down, further down, until he is cupping her buttocks. He is so tall compared to her, and he has to bend down to envelop her entire body.
She does not protest. Her heart is slamming against her ribs in thunderous applause until it jars her entire body and reverberates in her skull. Her loins are on fire and her core suddenly goes moist. Her entire body is heated up by several notches.
God, I want him so badly. It has been so long . . . so long.
The elevator doors hiss open again. They are on the top floor, and corridor opens up before them en route to his suite.
He breaks off the kiss.
“This way,” he says huskily.
“Yes,” she says, her hand grasped in his larger one.
Together, they make their way to his suite.
NIGHT
One night.
If I can have this one night, I’ll be satisfied for a long, long time.
That thought traverses her brain as once inside his suite, she falls into his strong, strong arms. Swiftly, they undress each other – shucking off shoes, jackets, shirts, belts, dresses. He fumbles at the clasp of her lacy white brassiere. She fumbles at his pants.
Off comes their underwear. Their clothes fall into a crumpled heap on the floor. She is seized by lust. Their lips voraciously devour each other’s, and the kisses become more frantic.
He has such a beautiful, amazing body. She scarcely has enough time to pause and admire him. But in coming up for air between kisses, she manages to note his sculptured torso – every muscle a work of art. Her hands roam all over his smooth flesh. There is not a blemish she can feel, not a scar in sight. How is it that a man can be so perfect?
His erection is even larger in proportion to the rest of him. He scoops her up in his arms as if she is a toy and carries her to his bedroom. She barely has time to register her surroundings – yellow lamps, masculine décor with lots of clean lines and wood furniture, wood paneling on the walls interspersed by wall panel lights. Art pieces depict scenes from the forest and hills of the Pacific Northwest with its stormy coastal waters and streaked sky.
He throws her onto the bed. She is a little frightened of his size, and he catches her gazing at his penis.
“Don’t worry.” His breathing is coming out in sharp, ragged bursts. “I’ll be gentle.”
His eyes are dilated with desire and his nostrils flare. She can’t take her eyes off this magnificent Nordic god.
“You’re so beautiful, Shannon,” he murmurs. “So beautiful.”
It is amazing that he too finds her beautiful. Her medium-sized breasts are heaving. He slips on a condom. It sheaths his cock like a glistening glove. Her entire focus is on him – his glorious body, his upright cock which is about to penetrate her, his lustrous blue eyes fringed by long golden lashes.
“Relax,” he tells her as he straddles her. He puts his cock between her legs. “Don’t tense up. Just look into my eyes.”
Those eyes. She remembers what she has seen in those eyes very well. So many questions about this man. So little time.
“It’s OK,” she says. “Do it.”
“I can’t stop even if I tried.”
His cock nudges her open pussy, already dripping with her juices. He cleaves her tunnel with one swift stroke.
She cries out with the pain of his size.
“You OK?” He holds her in concern.
“Y-yes.”
“You want me to pull out?”
“No. Just stay in me.”
She shuts her eyes, and then opens them again. His eyes hold hers, and she sees tenderness in them. Maybe sadness as well.
He moves inside her. She gasps.
“Am I hurting you?”
She is filled to total expansion.
“No. Not anymore. It feels . . . good.”
And it does
. Her orifice and passage is stretched to its max, and his flesh thrusts and rubs against every crevice and every surface like a well-oiled tool. He grunts with each pump of his hips, and her entire body is pushed towards the headboard.
Oh, the sex is incredibly hot, she thinks. This man is incredibly hot. He ruts against her like this for a long, long time. In, out. In, out. Her fists are bunching the sheets and grasping the edges of the pillows. She hasn’t even noticed the color of the sheets until now – they are a pristine white, probably with a very high thread count.
His cock pounds her and massages her, and she angles her cervix upward so that his crown would thrust against her special place. Each stroke there is enough to bring her to a high. She goes higher –
“Ahhh!”
And higher.
“Ahhhh!”
He grips her arms. His breath is very harsh against her neck. A bead of sweat falls off his nose and speckles her lips. She licks it and tastes its sexy saltiness.
“Oh, Lucien,” she whimpers.
“God, you feel good,” he says raggedly.
Until finally, she cries out, losing herself to the bliss that follows. Her groin explodes into spasms and tendrils of fire which run all over her body while its hub concentrates at her core.
Oh, oh, oh, oh!
Her entire pelvic region screams with the ecstasy and the sweet agony of it all. Her mind goes blank as she arches her back, grinding the top of her head onto the soft pillows.
When she comes to, he is panting full throttle. He lets himself go too. Although the condom stops her from experiencing his sap firsthand, she knows his semen is gushing inside its rubber cage.
“Ohhhh,” he groans as he spurts inside her several times. She can feel his buttocks squeezing with each forceful ejaculation.
Then he collapses on top of her.
“That was incredible,” he whispered against her hair. He strokes her breasts, her neck. “Stay with me tonight.”
She is too fatigued to do anything but assent.
* * * *
Somewhere in the middle of the night, she wakes up. Lucien’s limbs are entwined with hers, and he is snoring slightly.
She shifts very slowly, not wanting to wake him. She stares at his sleeping profile. He is an incredible lover, and she will be very sorry to leave him in the morning. Jared would be upset that she spent the night with Lucien, of course, but she is a consenting adult.
That is, if Jared actually came back to the hotel at all.
Outside the bedroom window, a pale moon floats upon listless clouds, spraying the night with an eerie glow. Somewhere in the dark forest beyond the maze, a wolf howl pierces the night.
It is remarkably close, and the hairs on her forearm rise.
Her mind goes back to the hanging witch. She has to suppress a shudder.
What does it all mean?
THE HOUSE
The next morning, she wakes up before Lucien can wake up, and she surreptitiously eases her body away. She dresses in her clothes, picks up her heels and takes a final look at him before she pads silently out of the door.
Thank you for the wonderful sex.
Apparently, there are no cabs to call in Dolphin’s Bay. But there is a car service she can dial for, the concierge tells her helpfully. He recognizes her as Mr. Walker’s date, of course.
“Are you sure you don’t want to wait for Mr. Walker to take you home, Miss?” he asks.
“No, I don’t want to bother him. Please dial the service.”
It would be far better to take public transport – or what is akin to public transport here – than to call Jared to pick her up.
She switches on her cellphone. Two missed calls from Jared. She twists her mouth.
When is he going to learn that I am not that sixteen-year-old ingénue anymore who hero-worshipped him?
When she gets back to Pine’s Bluff, Jared is waiting for her at the reception. He is seated with his feet sprawled on the table before him. Peter, the receptionist, eyes him nervously.
“So, was he good in the sack?” Jared drawls loudly.
“It’s none of your business.”
“Oh, but it is my business if my only sister doesn’t come home all night. After all, she’s in a new town and I can’t be totally sure who she’s shacking up with.”
She breezes past him to the stairs and he gets up and lopes after her.
“Can it, Jared,” she says, exasperated. “Why do you always have to embarrass me in public?”
He grins. “Are you seeing our generous host again?”
“No.”
“Oh, dumped you, did he?”
“I wasn’t his to dump in the first place. He’s not the kind of man who is into relationships. And why am I telling you all this anyway?” She glares at him. Then she drops her voice to a whisper. “You have been good last night, haven’t you?”
“Aren’t I always good?”
She thinks uneasily of the hanging witch. No, Jared couldn’t have done that. He doesn’t know about the maze and its significance. Right? Fast as he is, he isn’t that fast. Not in the brains department, that is.
“I heard a wolf howl last night,” she says.
“So it’s a wolf. Nothing to do with me.”
She is walking very fast up the stairs. “Yes, but something could have spooked him in the forest.” She glares at her brother again. “You didn’t go hunting last night, did you?”
They are all alone on the top floor of the hotel and she is striding towards the Heartwood suite.
“What’s it to you if I did?”
“Jared,” she hisses, “we’re in a new town. You agreed to lay low until we’re more settled. It isn’t as if you have to hunt.”
“Boy, have you got your tits in a fine twist this morning. Which side of the bed did you fall out of? Oh, I know whose. Was his dick as thick as his skull?”
She has to resist the urge to smack his smug, grinning face. She decides to take the higher ground and ignore him instead. She fumbles in her purse and inserts her key into the lock.
“Let me guess,” Jared says, sauntering in after her. He leaps onto the couch as she goes into the bathroom to wash up. “Either you have PMT or you’re still feeling hot and bothered about the dashing millionaire.”
“Shut up.” She slams the bathroom door behind her.
He whoops with delight. Sometimes, Jared can be such a pain. She leans upon the bathroom door with her eyes closed. Her pussy is still sticky with her dried creams from the torrid sex they had last night. Even when she thinks of Lucien’s cock inside her, a spool of fresh cream trickles from her core, wetting her panties.
Ohh! She must stop thinking of him!
She turns on the taps of the shower furiously, sheds her clothes and gets in. On second thought, she turns off the hot water and lets only the cold water from the showerhead cascade onto her head.
Damn, damn, damn!
* * * *
The rest of the morning is spent with both Jared and she in industrious house hunting. By the end of the lunch hour, they have managed to snare themselves a little bungalow rental that isn’t too expensive.
All they have to do now, according to the real estate agent, is to shift out of their respective hotel suites and move in if they like it. The house is all ready for them.
Shannon takes a good last look at the Heartwood suite. She has never stayed in anything so luxurious in her life, and she will be sorry to be leaving it. Her mind fills with Lucien’s handsome face again and the way his blue eyes caress her when they made love on his big white bed.
No!
She doesn’t even want to check her phone. No point in being hopeful when there is no hope. The good thing about modern technology, she muses, is that you no longer have to wait by the phone for a cute boy to call. You can carry your phone everywhere with you and be miserable while productively running your errands instead of doing nothing at home.
The rental is a small bungalow in the foothills,
a considerable distance away from Pine’s Bluff and the top of the hills where the rich live. The real estate agent, Ellie Fitzpatrick-Brown, is waiting for them outside.
“You found it.” She gives them a winning smile. She is a middle-aged woman. Heavily pregnant. Pleasant in a marmsy sort of way. She would be the kind of woman who serves you pastries the moment you step into her kitchen, Shannon decides.
“We did, thanks to my GPS,” Shannon says.
Jared rolls his eyes. “I would have found it all the same.”
They exchange pleasantries all round.
“You’ll love the house,” Ellie gushes. “It’s small but very cozy. Won’t require a lot of housekeeping if you are a young working brother and sister pair. Come in and take a look.”
A thought strikes Shannon.
“This property doesn’t belong to the Walker family, does it?”
A cloud darkens Ellie’s face.
“No.” An unusually firm tone has come into her voice. She leans over slightly as if to impart a secret. “Many people in this town are not overtly fond of the Walkers, if you know what I mean.”
Shannon has that suspicion as well after seeing the hanged witch. “Why?”
Ellie shakes her head. “You both are new here. It is not for me to fill your heads with local superstition.”
Jared steps forward. “No, we’re really interested in this. At least, my sister is.” He flashes a shrewd look at Shannon, who scowls at him. “Please . . . why are people in this town not fond of the Walkers?”
Ellie looks all around them. There is nothing around them but the house – which is a small cottage covered with vines and large, trembling leaves – as well as the backdrop of the hills leading to the forest. They have no neighbors for at least half a mile down the road.
“OK. But you mustn’t tell anyone you heard it from me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jared murmurs sarcastically.
Ellie doesn’t seem to notice his sarcasm.
“The Walker family hails from New England. They are a very old clan, dating back several centuries. They don’t make their history known, but it’s in all the annals in the library if you want to look back. Magda Walker, Julien Walker, Roderick Walker, Cassandra Walker, Phineas Walker. They all share one thing in common.”