I collapsed back onto the bed trying to relearn to breathe. Still buried inside, he began a slow rhythm reminding me that his hunger was never sated. The wolves' snarls and howls now filled the room blocking out the sounds of our lust. They had ventured dangerously close. My eyes remained closed basking in the gift of touch alone.
He paused for a moment to send his tongue and lips down my chest; the small nips and laps at my breast made me cry out with pleasure. Fine hairs slid across my erect nipples causing my eyes to fly open. A blaze of onyx stared up at me through a curtain of blond hair. I was momentarily stunned before I splayed my fingers in his hair pulling as much as I could into a tight fist. The kiss was tender and worried, giving my lips the same treatment as my breasts. He pushed himself deep inside; he knew my body much the same way as I knew his. Jonathon was less primal, his strokes more even and slow in stride. His almost careful approach gave me time to run my hand over the planes of his face and chest. His expression felt lost as the pad of my thumb ran across a slight scar along his cheek. Before I had time to reassure him his strokes became harder and deeper. I was reluctant to let loose his hair but my hand yearned to find more places to roam. My body arched with the growing pleasure as he moved with the still constant strokes between my legs. I rocked my body in time with his; letting an orgasm send wave after wave of pleasure crashing over us.
The waves took their time to subside, letting us revel in their pleasure. I ran my nails up and down his sweat soaked back. The candles had gone out leaving us in pitch darkness. All we were left with were the sounds of snarls and growls as they thundered through the room; the noise becoming deafening. The room shook as the wolves slammed their bodies into the walls. I wanted to shut my eyes, shut out our intruders but I couldn't. If I closed my eyes Jonathon would no longer be there to keep them at bay.
We both shared, with our eyes, what words could not relay. When his muscles could no longer sustain him he collapsed against me. ‘This is home,’ rang through my head as my world slowly faded away.
I woke to the alarm chirping way more cheerfully than I felt. My tattoo burned across my chest like the day I got it. I rolled out of bed, jealous that the sun still had another half an hour before it started the day. Grabbing my clothes I headed for the shower, flipping the coffee pot on as I passed. I turned the water on, letting the steam help wake me as I stripped off my pajamas. Searing pain and a pulse of light through the room had me frantically trying to wipe away the steam that had already built up on the mirror so that I had a clear view. Another pulse of purple and green caused a wave of panic to wash over me; all I could do was grip the counter so hard my knuckles blanched to keep from hitting the floor. What the fuck was happening to me?
I decided to skip on the shower and swap out what I had picked out for something that covered whatever the hell was going on with my tattoo. There was no rational explanation for it therefore I wanted to avoid trying to make one up. The gray clouds threatened rain, so I cashed in my promise to my Beetle and decided to take her to work. The parking lot contained the same three vehicles minus the Jag. Thank God. That was not a distraction I needed right now, especially after last night’s dream. The dream had been different but still the same as all the others. It felt as real as the one had just before I came here.
I made my way through the back, barely taking notice of Mack. I plucked Jo from her spot at the register and began dragging her towards my office, ignoring her high pitched protests. I tossed her into the office slamming the door behind us.
Her faint, "What the hell!" barely registered before I jerked my shirt down exposing my pulsing tattoo.
"What the hell is this?" I screeched my first words since dragging her through the cafe.
Her face drained of blood as she gawked at my chest. The pain was like a flaming brand against my skin.
"How am I supposed to know?" she breathed, never taking her eyes from my chest.
"Your tattoo never did anything like this?" I screeched, flailing my hand up and down in the direction of her exposed thigh.
Panic was beginning to take its hold. The only thing that had kept me relatively sane was the knowledge that I would come to work, show it to Jo, and she would reassure me that it was a normal occurrence with all new tattoos. Jo reached out to touch one of the pulsing petals and I stepped out of range not knowing if her touch would hurt even more, but her hand had already begun to drop.
"No, please, with the pulsing comes pain."
Her only response was a look that ranged from scared to almost worried.
"So you have no idea what would cause this; an allergic reaction or a new type of ink?"
I still had a small amount of hope that she would laugh it off and scream gotcha! or something and then explain how all of this was perfectly normal. But before I could get any of those responses my cell began to dance and ring across the desk, startling me even further. The only person that even knew I had it was Jonathon. Great. My tattoo pulsed even brighter, searing pain pulled a yelp in response from between my lips. Jo's surprised gasp was answer enough. I couldn't answer it; what was I supposed to say? The ringing had barely stopped before it picked up again. I reached over to my desk and slammed my hand down on the red ignore button. If it is that important he will call the cafe, the thought came savage and cold. It wasn't him I was angry at it, it was me but it felt so much better to take it out on someone else. As if reading that very thought, the cafe line began its chorus of rings. Damn.
"It's a great day at Shore Side Cafe!" I answered with exaggerated enthusiasm. Jo arched an eyebrow in response but obeyed when I waved her out.
"Why didn't you answer your cell phone?" he asked flatly. I ignored the sudden jolt of electricity that pulsed through my chest upon hearing his voice.
"Well, good morning to you, Mr. Evans!" I said, still overly cheerful. I was starting to grate on my own nerves.
"Next time I call your cell, answer it!" Jonathon growled into the receiver. My body hardened with an abrupt sensory memory that held me silent for longer than necessary.
"What the hell happened last night?" I blurted. Okay, apparently I was going to say that to my brand new boss. My nerves were already frayed, and this conversation was not helping.
"Next time I call, answer." With that he hung up. What was the point of that? I wasn't about to call back to find out; if he wanted to act like an asshat over a missed call, then by all means. I had my own problems to deal with anyway.
I really needed large quantities of liquor but caffeine would have to do so I went up front to get a caramel macchiato. The great thing about my job was the constant flow of caffeine. Maybe after a few cups I would be able to see a bit more clearly. The cafe had just opened and customers were already trickling in.
"Good morning, Alexis." Mack's voice was a surprising comfort. He had just witnessed a crazy woman drag an employee through the building not an hour ago and here he was being just as polite as if he didn't think I was probably bat shit crazy.
"How is your morning, Mack?" Small talk felt nice as I pulled a chair around into the kitchen, letting the sweet warmth of my coffee chase away some of my irritation. I sat there for quite a while watching this little town begin its morning. Somehow it was soothing; watching all the people do normal things even though I was beginning to think I was on the road to crazy town.
"Wonderful," he said in passing. I could feel Mack's eyes on me as he kept up his morning routine. His curiosity burned holes in my back. He purposely avoided the morning’s display which was nice. I didn't want to talk about it when I didn't know what to say. That was the one thing about men. They don't ask any questions and right now I didn't need any questions, answers maybe, questions or opinions, no. Mack made two more cups before I finally resigned myself to beginning my work day. The burning across my chest had turned to white noise; still there but not an annoyance for now.
CHAPTER FIVE
My office really needed a makeover. It felt empty even though it was full
; it just felt utterly empty. So keeping my mind off last night, the dream, and my alien tattoo, I decided I would hit some stores after work to give life to my little office. There was a Wal-Mart in almost every small town in America and Reedsport was no different. So appeasing my need to give a face lift to my drab office.n the mean time I guessed that work would have to do. The day dragged on with little problems which was kind of nice, but I did make a few extra trips to the restroom to check on my tattoo. Ordering more napkins was the highlight of my day.
My day passed by with my tattoo in all its weirdness eventually fading back into a regular run of the mill tattoo. With that crisis at bay it left my thoughts to wander. My dream was as intense as the others, but it was different. It didn't feel like a dream. It felt more like something that had happened before. I tried to comfort myself with the fact that it was just a dream. I'm sure tons of women have had those types of dreams about attractive men in their lives. But there was something there that kept pulling at my memory; slicing at something real but I couldn't form the whole picture. The sudden obsession made being trapped in the office difficult, but no matter what I did I couldn't run from myself but I sure wasn't ready to tackle it head on either.
Just before closing Jo knocked on the door. "How's the situation with your tat?" she questioned, taking a seat on the edge of my desk.
"The tat situation has seemed to resolve itself." The title tat situation warranted air quotes, I thought. I proved it by pulling my shirt down for the second time today. Never in my prudish life had I showed my chest to anyone other than my mother and my gynecologist. And I had done it twice today, displaying my goods to a girl I barely knew. Wouldn't my mother be proud? Jo looked skeptical but let it stand.
"So what do you think about helping me redecorate?" I waved my hand around the office to prove just how badly this space needed it. I wasn't planning on having a partner but now that she was here that didn't seem like such a bad idea; maybe a little company was what I needed.
"If you want you can hitch a ride with me to Wal-Mart?" I offered.
She took another look around the office as a devilish smile appeared across her face.
"Hell yeah! But I know an even better place."
After closing I followed her to Interior Designs that sat just off the square.
The store clerk greeted us with a warm smile. Her mix-matched style followed suit with the items that sat haphazardly around her small shop. I knew I'd like this place when she didn't feel the need to annoy us with a million questions. I liked that type of people they just waited until you needed them. Victorian furniture paired with art deco rugs were complimented by goth inspired lamps and end tables. I could see why Jo liked this place. It had its own character and the shop keeper had chosen not to let it be sucked into the trends of now. My eyes couldn't just land on one piece but scanned the entirety before being driven to a stop by a crimson office chair.
"I want this chair." No matter if that was all I bought I knew that I would be perfectly fine with that chair.
"This one?" Jo didn't sound too impressed. "Not this one that spins and has a built in massager and reclines so you can take a nap during the day?" She emphasized her point by plopping down and spinning around while pressing all the buttons she could until I had to physically stop her before she broke it.
"Stop before you get us kicked out. And yes, this chair is for me." Of course that was not the only thing we were going to leave with, but it was the one thing that I was most excited about. We also placed our delivery order in care of Jonathon Evans. I didn't know how he was going to take paying for me to redecorate but I could always blame it on Jo. After all it was her idea.
"What do you think he will say when he sees the invoice?" I was more nervous than Jo seemed to be about having Jonathon flip the bill.
"Oh, he is going to wig out when he sees that total." She burst into fits of laughter.
My face blanched from the realization that I just charged something to my boss's name. I had the urge to turn around and go back and cancel my order all together. "I'm joking, I'm joking he will be fine with it, promise."
"God, I hope so!"
"Maybe you should pray an extra prayer to that God of yours tonight. Maybe ask him not to give your boss an aneurysm when he sees the amount he will have to fork out for that chair that you just had to have." She still hadn't stopped laughing as we stood at our cars with the bags of smaller items in hand.
"My God?" Her phrasing was odd and I couldn't help but ask.
"Yes, your God. So far in my lifetime the almighty God that everyone prays to hasn't done much in way of myself so I stopped putting much stock in him a long time ago."
Growing up in a very Christian household I never stopped to wonder about the existence of God, I just went with it; attended church, said my prayers at night and that was it. I never stopped to think about what he had done for me. What kind of life had Jo led that would take her faith away?
"Hey, we should hit this new club that just opened up this weekend." Her abrupt change of subject showed just how uncomfortable she was even talking about her beliefs. I wasn't going to push, it wasn't my place to figure out why she didn't believe in God. Dancing sounded fantastic. I had never been to a club. My parents didn't believe that good girls should go to places like that and I would have caught hell if I would have ever been caught going to one. Even as an adult I lived with them so I had to abide by their rules. It didn't matter; I never had close enough girl friends to go anyway.
"I'm in; dancing and alcohol, just what the doctor ordered." The normality of shopping, laughing, and making plans helped to alleviate all the tension that seemed to fill this day.
I watched Jo drive off with a wave, reluctant to get back to the Inn. The evening felt full of life and energy. Even though the cool breeze that whipped at my exposed skin had me wishing I had brought a jacket, I couldn't make myself get into my car. The wind mixed with the smell of sea and pine overloaded my senses, while the moon shone overhead, keeping complete dark from engulfing the night. Maybe I could leave my car here and walk back, extending my stay with the night, but I didn't know if it would be here in the morning. I drove back with all the windows down, letting this feeling ride along with me. Even over the humming of my engine I could hear the waves lapping against the shore off in the distance. I could do nothing but soak in the serenity that the night offered in my short drive back. By the time I had my Bug parked and quieted, the evening’s magic had taken my restless thoughts off into its vast darkness helping to insure my sanity for a bit longer.
Linda sat at her post at the front desk with a cheerful greeting as I passed. When I flipped on the light a small box and a bottle of wine at the end of my bed caught my attention. The box wasn't some ordinary box either. The smell of freshly cut pine took my breath away. The care that it had been given made it seem new but something about it struck me as very old. I ran my fingers across a faint inscription on the lid. A jolt of electricity shot up my arm and through my chest, reigniting the pulsing pain within my tattoo.
Behavior is what a man does, not what he thinks, feels, or believes.
"Emily Dickenson." I couldn't help but say her name out loud. The letter S was in place of a signature.
I slowly lifted the lid to reveal a single slice of raspberry swirl cheesecake, my favorite, and two forks. Not a fork and a spoon but two forks. Odd. They were beautifully designed and looked just as old as the box they rested in. I took them out of the box, running my fingers across the raised design. A familiar feeling of remembrance washed over me but I couldn't loosen my grip on the silverware. Something was there hiding, refusing to be remembered. Sharp pain across my chest released the forks from my grip sending them to the floor with a muffled clang. It took me a minute of deep breathing and concentration to lose that feeling, completely bringing me back to the here and now. In fear of repeating that episode, I used a washcloth to put the forks back in the box. I eyed the bottle of wine suspiciously. Hadn't I
just said I would love a drink? I gripped the bottle waiting for the same feeling to come over me. Nothing happened; it was just an ordinary bottle of wine. Since the only person I knew here that would have the initial S was Sebastian I promised myself I would drop by and have a chat with him about his very unnecessary gift tomorrow; but right now I needed that drink.
I popped the cork and poured some in one of those spiffy plastic cups that all hotels provided. It smelled of fruit and honey, unlike any wine I had ever tasted. Not that my wine knowledge was that extensive. I tipped the cup back and drank it all in one shot. It was sweet and bitter at the same time, just as the aroma had promised. I poured three more glasses before throwing myself into the bed. This was all completely insane. I hadn't had dreams that felt so completely real since I was a child and had never held the eye of any man especially one that thought he needed to send gifts that hit so close to home. There was no way he could have known that Emily Dickenson was the only poetry I owned or that raspberry swirl cheesecake was my absolute favorite dessert. His knowledge was frightening to say the least. Why me? He treated me as a problem that he needed to remedy, not someone that he would throw gifts at.
Waves of elation, longing, and need, that were not my own, pounded against my own confusion, fear, and disbelief that swirled within me. The anxiety that lurked in the recesses of my mind was becoming harder and harder to ignore.
Aconite (The Elektita Series Book 1) Page 4