by E A Price
Tonight though, she was introducing him to the luxury of a bath. He admitted he had never had one before, hinting that indoor plumbing was completely new to him. Just a bit of info she filed away for later. So, given the size of her tub, she suggested they bathe together.
He had grunted and grumbled but ultimately acquiesced. He wasn’t nearly as miserable as he would have her believe, though he did complain a lot.
He didn’t like the hot water, didn’t like the smell of the bath essence, thought the bath was too uncomfortable and given his expression when she turned the bubbles on; he didn’t like those either.
Martha watched him covertly from behind the bubbles. He was carefully moving his hand through the water.
Her dreams had been tame over the last few days, and she had to wonder if that was because of him. He claimed he had no idea what caused her dreams, but his presence seemed to make everything better.
What would she do when they had to part?
She couldn’t hide in her mother’s beach house forever. Already Maggie had called looking for her, and Dr. Crawley to check up on her. It wasn’t like she was really hiding, and had gladly admitted to both women where she was, but being here still felt like she was making some kind of escape from her day-to-day life. Plus, she had felt the need to let her mother know where she was. They didn’t have any close neighbors, but the nearest one was an avid gossip, and she would have seen the lights on at the house. She would have called her mother the moment she noticed them.
Thinking of her mother, she would be home soon. Plus, while Martha could survive a little while longer on the money she inherited from her father, she would need to find a job eventually or move in with her mother – ugh, that wasn’t an appetizing thought. At least she had managed to guilt Valerie into organizing the town New Year party, not that it took much persuasion – Valerie had been dying to take over. In fact, Valerie seemed intent to replace her in every facet of her life. Not that she was complaining at that moment.
Martha briefly closed her eyes and inhaled the soft scent and let out a happy moan. Drago snorted and almost made a gagging noise.
“What now?” she asked smiling.
“The bubbles taste funny.”
Martha let out a peal of laughter. “You’re not supposed to eat them.”
He huffed. “Don’t like the smell.”
She cupped some bubbles in her hands. “I like the smell. I think they smell gorgeous.”
“I like the way you smell.”
He gave her an intense look, so open and honest. It was a look she’d seen a dozen times before in her dreams.
“Thank you.”
Drago nodded and let out a long breath. “What do we do now?”
“Now?”
“Yes, what happens now in this bath?”
“Well, nothing. We just sit back and relax.”
Drago looked around him, clearly unhappy. “Is that all?”
“Ummm hmmm. It’s nice. The warm water is nice, feels good on my skin, feels good on my aching body.”
He looked at her sharply. “I thought you did not ache after…”
“Generally no, but I’m not used to quite this much exercise quite this often. My ex-boyfriends didn’t recover nearly as quickly as you do.” Nor were they quite as energetic and none of them lasted half as long as he did. Perhaps aching hadn’t been the right word – happily worn out, maybe?
He cocked his head, near amusement on his lips. “You berated me for referring to my past bedmate.”
She couldn’t help the irritation that he was talking about Muriel again. “I didn’t refer to mine by name. Though if you wanted some names…”
His growl bounced around the bathroom, and she carefully clambered onto his lap. His hands immediately sought her rear, and she wiggled on his hardening manhood.
“Maybe there is something we could do in here.” Something to keep his mind away from Muriel, something to prove that no matter how… happily worn out her body was, she always wanted and needed more.
His lips curled slightly, almost reaching a smile. She placed her hands on his enormous chest. His muscles flexed under her touch. She wasn’t particularly large. She was slender but not model thin, but her height and curves had always made her seem bigger than she actually was, but resting against this huge male, she felt almost adrift in the sea of his chest.
“You do not ache too much?” he asked, his claws tracing patterns on her cheeks.
“Definitely not,” she whispered into his ear. She nipped his earlobe, and the steely member underneath her gave a surge.
He pressed his lips to her neck, scraping his fangs over her skin and his tongue darting out to taste her skin. He made a slight gagging noise.
“You do not taste like you,” he said reproachfully
“How about this?”
She pressed her lips to his, pushing her tongue into his mouth. Given the groan he made, she had to figure that he was enjoying how that tasted at least.
Martha reached her hand between them and grasped his hard length. He was so large; her fingers could not reach around him. She loved the way he felt, loved the smoothness of his skin, how hot and hard he was for her. Loved feeling the desire she incited in him.
She rubbed her thumb over his flesh and his hips jerked against her. He tore his mouth away from hers.
“Do not toy with me,” he growled, baring his fangs.
“Never,” she murmured honestly.
His eyes flashed with uncertainty and Martha pushed up from him and guided him to her sopping entrance. She steadied herself with one hand on the edge of the tub, reflecting that it was never this difficult in all the erotic romance novels she had read. In those, sex in the shower or bathtub just seemed as easy as buttering a piece of toast. In reality, hovering over your lover, trying to take his enormous size inside - not exactly easy while lying still in a bed - while not slipping over was ever so slightly perilous. Added to that, his wings and tail seemed to have a life of their own and were happily creating waves in the water of the giant tub.
She was almost there when her foot slipped, and she almost head-butted him. It said something for both of them that none of her fumbles diminished their arousal in any way. Though it did test Drago’s patience.
After she tried and failed, he snarled and grasped her waist, pulling her down him, virtually impaling her. She cried out as her body sang in pleasure.
Remorse laced his features. “I did not…”
No, he definitely didn’t hurt her. If she hadn’t been so wet, so ready and eager for him, maybe his hasty action would have been painful, but he just had to walk into the room for her to melt with lust.
Martha shook her head and cupped his face, kissing him thoroughly as she began to clench her inner muscles around him. She rocked against him, her hips dancing over his, her clit rubbing against his body.
In the bathtub, he could not take her as forcefully as he usually did, and perhaps preferred, but she enjoyed the slower pace. Enjoyed the way his hands could leisurely travel over her body, his claws scraping her skin.
He might not have liked the way the bath essence made her skin taste, but she still liked kissing him. Pulling away from his mouth, she traveled over his cheeks and jaw, nibbling and licking at him. He rumbled his happy rumble beneath her, and his hips started bucking against her
He had many rumbles, and growls and snarls – all of them conveying a myriad of emotions his words rarely did. But she was slowly coming to know them all. The snarl usually directed at her was one of impatience because she was not undressing quickly enough. The growl she usually got meant he wanted her – fiercely. But the rumble was her favorite. She could feel it vibrating through his chest. She knew it showed his desire – desire for her and it thrilled her. Drago was a magnificent creature, and the fact that she could inflame his desire, that he wanted her, elated her and also made her a little bit smug. She had been scared at first - that was true. She had been afraid of wanting him, a
fraid of wanting someone so far removed from normal he may as well have been a Martian, but now she felt foolish for that. Being with him was so right, so incredible. How could she have been so slow to realize that? Hadn’t her dreams showed her that over and over?
Martha gave a loud gasp as he thrust inside her sharply. She didn’t think it was possible, but he felt even larger than before. The added sensation of him brushing against her clit meant that she could not enjoy him for long. It seemed that Drago could not hold out either. His rumbles deepened, and he clasped his arms around her, holding her in place, crushing her to his chest.
Thrust after thrust followed and she continued to clutch at him, massaging his manhood as his movements became almost frantic. She felt his tail wrap around her leg, anchoring her.
Martha gasped and whimpered, curling her fingers into his shoulders until finally, she couldn’t bear it anymore. The tight coil inside her snapped and her body flooded with bliss as his name escaped her lips and echoed through the room. Roughly he drove himself inside her and exploded, his roar drowning out her cries.
Martha trembled against him. He folded her in his arms and rocked lightly, seemingly affected as much as she was. Even as they came down from their high, she could hear her heart banging like a drum.
It took her a few minutes to realize that wasn’t actually her heart, but someone at the door.
Reality brought her crashing back to earth. “Someone’s at the door.”
“Ignore them,” he rasped.
“I can’t; it might be my neighbor. She’s one of my mother’s frenemies - if I don’t answer she might freak out and call the cops.”
“Frenemies?” he repeated in confusion as Martha struggled to disentangle herself.
She gave him a pointed look, and reluctantly he unfurled his tail and steadied her as she stood up. On very shaky legs she climbed out of the tub, found her robe and stumbled down the stairs, hoping she could get back in the tub as soon as possible.
*
She was surprised to note it was not Jackie, her mother’s frenemy, but an older gentleman who looked wan and unhappy.
“Uh, hello?” She pulled her robe around her a little tighter.
He tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. He gave her a cursory glance, and she realized she must have looked a sight with messy hair, red cheeks, dripping wet and clad in a thin, short robe. She might as well have screamed that she had just been having nooky.
“Are you Martha?”
“Yes,” she replied warily.
She forced herself to remain looking at him, even as she heard a floorboard creak above her. He heard it too and looked into the house. She could feel her nerves trying to get the better of her, but she forced herself to remain calm. It was perfectly reasonable for her to have a man in the house, and reasonable for them to have just been sharing a bath and having sex.
There was no reason to worry that the stranger was there because of Drago, that he was there to try and take him away from her. At least, she kept telling herself that.
“I ah, I’m sorry to intrude, but I needed to give you this.”
He thrust a crumpled envelope at her and Martha wordlessly took it.
“It’s from my wife,” he explained gruffly, and Martha frowned, still none the wiser. “My wife was Helen Crawley.”
Dr. Crawley, she thought, still mystified. “What do you mean was?”
His face turned even more ashen. “She died yesterday morning – car accident.”
“I’m so sorry,” blurted Martha, in complete shock. It had only been a few days ago that the two of them had talked. To think she was now gone…
“I found a note in her study telling me it was urgent that if anything happened to her, I had to give you this right away. She even gave me your address.”
“I…” she stammered staring down at the blue envelope in her fingers. Her name was written in slanting, loopy writing.
“How did you know my wife?” he asked a little suspiciously.
“She treated my dad a long time ago.”
He nodded, but she supposed that didn’t really explain anything. Really, he wanted to know what was in the note. Apparently, he hadn’t read it, it was still sealed, but he was curious in spite of his grief.
“Do you want to read it too?” she offered, thinking it was the very least she could do for this heartbroken man.
He hesitated for a moment before roughly shaking his head. “She said in her note that I wasn’t allowed to, and I think following her last wishes is the least I can do. I, uh…” He let the words dangle before just nodding and limping back to his car.
She closed the door, tearing into the envelope and Drago was by her side in an instant, wings twitching and tail banging impatiently.
“Who was that? What did he want? What did he give you?”
The questions shot at her like bullets, but Martha couldn’t focus on anything but the letter.
She gasped and looked up at Drago’s stern face. “My father might be alive.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
If you are reading this, then I am dead… Forgive me… My husband was dying, his illness so rare we could not afford his medical bills… They asked me to fake your father’s death, and they took him away one night. I never knew where they took him, only that they did it because they believed him to be psychic…
Martha’s face was pinched as she read the letter over and over. She was angry. He was not surprised, but the fury on her face was not something he had witnessed in her before.
I am sorry for the grief I have caused you… I only tell you this now, because I fear they are in some way responsible for my death… When you asked questions over your father, I worried you suspected the truth, and I contacted them again… My husband is well now, they have no financial hold over me, and I fear they did no trust me to keep their secret from you…
“How did this woman die?”
“Car accident,” she muttered, her eyes never leaving the increasingly worn letter.
“You think these people she mentions in her letter had any hand in her death?”
“I have no idea,” she snapped before looking at him helplessly. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Drago ran a clawed thumb over her heated cheek. He felt even more helpless than her. She was upset, as well she might be, but he found himself ill-equipped to soothe her, to give her what she needed.
“What else does it say?”
Martha cleared her throat and read aloud, “I fear you are in danger too…”
Drago growled. Danger was something he was equipped for at least. “I will not allow anyone to hurt you!”
She nodded absently, though she didn’t seem to be moved by his declaration, and he almost felt disappointed by that.
“She said they took my father because they thought he was psychic.”
“This is not a surprise to you?”
“From his journals, I gathered that he thought he was psychic too, and because of my dreams, I was starting to imagine I might be as well.”
“That would explain the dreams we have shared,” he murmured.
Martha looked up in interest. “So you think it’s possible?”
“In my time, magic practitioners and psychics were not unheard of.”
No, you could barely throw a rock without coming across some kind of magical entity back then. But from the world around him, he gathered magic was all but dead – a relic of the past, much like him.
“In your time?”
He grumbled, wondering how much he could tell her, whether he wanted to or not. He could almost feel her unhappiness biting at him, pleading with him and he gave in, if only so he would not add to her misery. Briefly, he recounted the truth about his people, about their beginnings and their centuries-long sleep.
Martha stared at him wonderingly. “So there are only a few of you left?”
He nodded, thinking of the tiny clan back in Devil
’s Hang.
“And you’re psychic, too?”
He frowned. “No. Gargoyles are magical creatures, but not practitioners. Some have limited healing abilities, but none have ever been psychic.”
“Then why were you dreaming of me?”
“Perhaps you reached out to me,” he offered, watching her closely.
She just seemed more confused. “Why would I? I didn’t even know you. I couldn’t even imagine a creature like you existing.” Her eyes traveled over his wings and horns, though with affection rather than anything close to disgust.
He remembered his first thought when he dreamed of her – his beacon of blonde, angelic light. Mate. But no, he shut that thought away, didn’t want to let it out again. But now…
He ducked his eyes from hers. “What else does the letter say?”
“Just about the guy who did it – someone she just calls Blackthorne. Doesn’t ring any bells.”
He stilled. It was a name he recognized, and she caught his flicker of recognition immediately.
“But you do?” she asked.
“No.”
His tail flicked at the lie – or, almost lie. Well, he didn’t exactly know this person. It was just a name he had heard in the house, bandied about by his clan. Not one said in a good light either. He hadn’t taken much notice, hadn’t been interested in anything his clan had to say about anything.
Damn. How could Martha be caught up in the problems the gargoyles faced? How could he keep her away from their dangers?
“You’re lying,” she said with an inordinate amount of hurt in her voice.
Drago let out a throaty groan before admitting, “I do not know the man, but it is a name I recognize.”
Her whole face seemed to scrunch in bewilderment. “How could you know him?”
Drago rumbled discontentedly. “I must go.”