Boldly, encouraged by a sense of power over her man, she ground her thigh against his sex, relishing his raw reaction to her sudden sensuous bent. He was probably just as surprised. She’d never gone this far with him, and she wasn’t in her right mind. If the desire she felt right now had been anger instead, she’d have burned herself to ashes, and no amount of blood her mother could have given her would have saved her from death’s pull.
Rafe left her mouth and trailed his lips to her neck, bringing back memories….
But just when the dark imaginings had about snapped her back from his embrace, he licked and sucked on her earlobe, then flicked his tongue in her ear, ratcheting up an unholy fever.
“Mine,” he whispered. “Never forget.”
How could she? Even if she tried, her body hankered for him. No voice of reason had the better of her when he was around.
He played her body like a Stradivarius. Caressing, rubbing, feeling, tasting. When the hand on her behind moved down and reached over to lightly brush against her most intimate spot—a deliberate move meant to push her over the edge—she cried out. That’s all it took to cause her to shout his name and plead with him to stop. He touched her there while all thoughts disintegrated and there was only him, and his hands on her.
She didn’t think mercy was one of his qualities but finally, he stopped and settled his hand at her lower back, splaying those deft fingers that knew too well how to touch her. Every one of the digits and the palm branded her skin through the cotton of her shirt.
He raised his head to look into her face. Until she cleared the wool from her head, she didn’t register his strained look.
“I’ll stop if you will,” he finally said through gritted teeth.
“What—?”
“Hmmm, I’d love for you to go on with what you’re doing, my little kitten, but only if you want to finish this so that we’re both happy.”
Mortified, she hastily removed her leg and set it down on the floor, then jumped away from him as if she’d seen a cockroach scuttle past.
Her cheeks burned as he regarded her with a curious mien. “I saw you smile several times. You have beautiful dimples and your eyes shine so bright. One day, you’ll smile for me, with me.”
Several times? You’ve been watching me, then….
Frazzled, she pulled her hair back with both hands and held the locks, unable to meet his gaze. The blood that had rushed to her face tingled, driving the nail home on her embarrassment.
“Sorry, I…I don’t know what came over me.”
“Are you kidding? You must never apologize for wanting me as I want you.”
“I don’t want you,” she lied, turning to belligerence as a source of courage to face him once more. “I’m just human, that’s all. At least, a part of me is,” she added, taunting. No matter that it made her seem like the brat her mother thought she was.
A dark mood ran a heavy brush stroke over his features. Eyes that were hooded with passion now glimmered with anger. She’d hurt his pride.
“You’re lucky I’m not a bastard who will fuck a woman without her consent,” he growled, stressing his raw language and making her blush harder. “Even after she’s had her fun playing with him.”
Sera was duly chastised, like many years ago as a child when her mother would correct her after some mischievous behavior or prank. The awkwardness crept up a notch and the silence stretched between them. She fixed a stare at the carpet, as though its complex design would somehow reveal to her all the secrets of the universe.
“Fine, then,” he finally said. “I repeat, stop being bullheaded. Whatever you do, listen to your mother. Don’t leave Shadow Bridge until I’ve figured out what they want with you.”
Bullheaded? The cheek! “They who—?”
But quick as a lightning strike, he vanished.
Feeling lost and bereft, she gave her back to the mist. Then, as suddenly as he’d left, she wasn’t standing any more but back in bed, sitting up and sweating like a pig before the slaughter.
She looked down at her trembling hands, still burning from the feel of his hair and body. The faint waves of a spine-tingling orgasm lingered within her. Seriously? She’d acted like a damn wanton—but the effects of that encounter still played havoc with her whole being. There was no way in hell this could have been a dream.
Unless she was completely losing it.
*****
Fiona Borgatti, preppy witch, gifted jewelry designer, and Shadow Bridge’s top Jezebel after the older and more experienced, Molly “Sass” McRay, sashayed into The Stirring Pot and scanned the space, hand on hip, looking as though Marilyn Monroe herself had just shown up for the Oscars.
Sera sighed, certain in the knowledge that her friend would never change. Nymphomaniac with a loyal heart and a penchant for heels—made for interesting conversations and a one-of-a-kind friendship.
Tossing her platinum blonde mane of waist-length, poker-straight hair, Fiona’s periwinkle gaze scanned the restaurant and found Sera sitting at her favorite corner table. She walked toward her—no, sauntered, hips swinging, more like—in her five-inch, Barbie-pink stiletto pumps and deposited a tight, trim jean-clad behind on the adjacent chair.
“How do you walk in those things without breaking an ankle in three seconds? Even with Mom and her massive collection of sky-high heels, it never ceases to amaze me.”
“Some of us need the extra height, darling.” She gave Sera a revolted look and waved her off. “You’re sickening. Tall and gorgeous. At five feet even, I hardly have a choice.”
“Mmmm.”
“Your Mom knows what time it is.”
Sera grunted.
A stretchy pink shirt with a rolled collar scooped dangerously low over Fiona’s breasts, giving the taller observer a sneak peak of abundant perky delights. A thin, dark blue jacket hung open to keep the goods on display.
Sera felt cold just looking at her. She peered down at her own get up of a thick turtleneck sweater, jeans, and padded boots. A heavy coat draped on the chair behind her. Even with her not feeling the chill like others did, she still needed the protection.
“And what’s with the skimpy clothes? It’s friggin’ freezing outside.”
Ever since that fateful night of Susan’s murder and Sera’s attempted kidnapping in New York City, the weather had turned lousy. An unnatural cold for this time of year that should be heralding the spring. A message in the air, perhaps? She’d have to ask Grandpa about that.
“Relax!” Fiona urged. “You sound like my mother. My coat’s next door in my studio and I didn’t feel like putting it on just to take a few steps here. It’s warm inside.”
Fiona leaned over, showing more cleavage, to check out the hardcover placed between them on the table.
“‘How to Create a Mind: The Secret of Human Thought Revealed’.” She rolled her eyes. “Light reading?”
Sera shrugged. “I needed a break from the usual cryptology and history books. Artificial intelligence is a safe bet.”
“You say?” Fiona said dispassionately, focusing on her perfectly manicured nails. After a last admiring look, she put her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “How about that book I lent you the other day? The one about that sexy sheikh with a six pack kidnapping a British lady and keeping her in his tent for a whole month? Yummy man. Hot, hot sex. Even I learned a thing or two. Mrs. Ferwick suggested it at the castle library, you know.”
“Afraid I haven’t yet,” Sera replied, doing her damnedest not to laugh. “You and Mom would really get along. You seem to have similar reading tastes.”
“Seriously?” Fiona said with a tone of astonished pride. “I swear, that Ferwick woman must have a sixth sense or something. She looked me over and instantly knew what kind of book I’d like. I told her I wanted to start reading more as that hunk Tom down at the plant nursery said he loves a smart chick.”
“The castle library is nothing if not well-stocked,” Sera remarked over a cough.
“Have you eaten yet?”
“No, I just ordered. Here’s the menu today.” Sera slid a paper in her direction. The daily options were as usual printed in fancy font, the edges decorated with flowers and swirly designs.
“Fragrant chicken stew with prunes and spices.” Fiona made a face. “Prunes? Ugh.”
“Come on! Forget what your mother makes. She can’t cook to save her life. But Ada and Lorraine can make dirt taste like the best meal you ever had.”
“Mom’s Irish. She can pick a good beer,” Fiona retorted.
“That’s about the extent of her skills with consumables.” Suddenly, Sera recalled something that made her raise a hand and cry, “Oh, that Guinness roast she made once was really good.”
“Wow, you have some memory! Or you’re food-obsessed. That must have been over ten years ago.”
“Well, some things are worth remembering. Like your dad’s penne with eggplant and cheese and those little Sicilian treats—”
“Torroncini.”
“Those.” Sera sighed. “The orange and chocolate ones are to die for.”
“Hmmm. Nonna’s recipes from her early days in Sicily.”
“Lucky you to have an Italian father who can whip up delicious desserts or pasta at a moment’s notice. Stuff that sticks in your brain and sadly, to your ribs.”
“I agree. For instance, Moon’s kisses last night are stuck in my brain. That tongue can fire up a grill with one lick—”
“Stop it, please, or I won’t be able to eat!”
“What’s disgusting about a good old-fashioned sex workout? Speaking of which,” she looked Sera up and down, assessing, “you’re looooong overdue for one. Moon has a friend. If you want, I can hook you up in a jiffy.” With a grin, she snapped her fingers and batted her eyelashes. “Yes?”
If you only knew! But she wasn’t about to talk about Rafe with anybody. And that meant anybody, including her mother and best friend. “No, no thanks. I’m fine as I am, without complications.”
Yeah. You’re just peachy, Sera.
“You’re missing out on all the fun, if you ask me,” Fiona muttered.
Hmmph.
Fiona looked down at the menu. “Think I’ll go for the salmon with herb butter and potato gratin. That sounds more up my alley.”
Just then, restaurant owner Ada Zaret’s younger cousin and business partner, Lorraine Morningstar, burst out of the kitchen, her shoulder-length brown hair gathered up and completely hidden under a mossy green bandana with a black roses and swallows design. A green apron with the restaurant’s logo and the tagline, “Bewitching Food” printed under it, covered her shapely body.
She zipped to Sera and Fiona’s table and let out a harried breath as she placed a glass of water in front of Fiona.
“Not a good day to run out of wait staff,” she said in a faint drawl that rolled beneath a heavier French-Canadian inflection. Lorraine was a transplant from Montreal but spoke more fondly of her days in France, where she got her first culinary training. In fact, she once said that a distant part of her family—the French side—still lived somewhere in the rural south of France. “Pam’s about to pop any minute now with her second baby. I doubt she’ll ever come back, and Lorry took his dad to the hospital. Need to hire some help soon.”
“Hey, I heard that Dr. Jude’s younger sister is looking for a part-time job while she’s studying pre-med over at Faeworld College,” Sera offered.
“If you see her, tell her to come over late afternoon, tomorrow. I’m desperate here.”
Sera nodded.
“And Rob over at the hardware and safety store,” Fiona added with dreamy eyes, after giving Lorraine her food order. “He wants to buy a secondhand Harley and what his dad pays him isn’t enough. I’d love to see Rob on a Harley. Most of his kind have one.” She sighed, a heartfelt sigh, drawing disbelieving stares from both Sera and Lorraine.
Lorraine’s classically beautiful face twisted in a frown. “No weres, please. They’re clumsy and break too many plates. I hate to dock wages so the cost is mine to bear and Ada gets on my case. Plus they eat more than a starved dinosaur, and we do much better when they’re on the customer end, if you know what I mean.”
“Speaking of weres,” Fiona started, her gaze fixed on the entrance from where Jeff Kochar, brand spanking new Shadow Bridge Police Chief, had just strolled in wearing his uniform. “There’s one with a big Harley.”
She stressed the word “big”, clearly implying something else. A glare from Lorraine put her in place. “Not that I’ve seen it!” she quickly added.
Lorraine turned around to catch Jeff’s wink and blushed. “Damn wind will blow just anything in,” she grumbled, hastily swiping imaginary dust from her apron and checking that her bandana wasn’t out of place.
Her large, green-grey eyes flashed with awareness under attractively arched brows, but on a nervous bite of her lip, she shifted her gaze to their table.
“Your meals should be ready soon. Ada’s putting some finishing touches and you know her, she has to get it right.” Lorraine smiled and kept standing there, reluctant to move, as if feeling Jeff’s gaze that now bore into her back like a blaster bolt.
“Great,” Sera said, exchanging glances with Fiona.
“Aren’t you going to talk to Jeff, Lorraine? I’m sure he’s here to see you,” Fiona announced, loudly enough to be heard from the castle.
Horrified, Lorraine looked worse than a deer in headlights, while under the checkered cloth-covered table, Sera stomped Fiona’s expensive footwear with singular relish.
“Aww! What was that for?”
“Won’t you just shut up?!” Sera hissed through gritted teeth.
With a pitiful whine and a murderous look at Fiona, Lorraine scampered from the table, head bent.
“My, my, you look lovely today, sweet cheeks,” Jeff praised when Lorraine tried to brush past him—he was blocking the only way to get to the kitchen.
Straightening her shoulders, Lorraine looked him eye to eye. “What did I tell you about calling me sweet cheeks?” she spat.
Sera and Fiona were close enough to hear the exchange. Wearing flats, Lorraine was almost at a level with Jeff.
“You told me not to feed you any bullshit,” he drawled. “And I’m not. You really do have sweet cheeks. And…everything else, too.” His eyes, full of primal hunger as characteristic of a self-respecting were, took her in slowly, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. “You must have put a spell on me,” he added. “Say, beautiful, how about you stop playing games and come out on a date with me?”
Sera could fairly see the steam rise out of Lorraine’s ears, although it was impossible for the woman not to be flattered. Everyone knew she secretly yearned for Jeff, including the shrewd Ada, who wouldn’t put a wrench in their getting together, if that was what her baby cousin wanted.
But Lorraine knew not what Lorraine wanted. “Get out of my way, wolfie.”
She’d flung the worst insult she could have given him—something she’d never done before, from the look of things. A sharp jibe at the fact that he was nothing but a low-level pack member, and hadn’t gathered enough experience yet to be an alpha among his people. As Chief of the Shadow Bridge police force, he had promise, though.
So, Lorraine’s comeback had definitely hit a nerve. No man—and especially no were with his caveman bent—wanted to be seen as a wimp by a woman, let alone his chosen mate.
At a loss for words, Jeff stepped aside, letting her pass, and calmly walked to a table and sat down, his face grimmer than Lurch’s, the Addams family butler. Lorraine had the decency to look guilty but rather than apologize, she tucked her tail between her legs and disappeared behind the kitchen door. Jeff kept sitting, impassive, saying nothing to no one, waiting for someone to come take his order. Or not. Poor guy broke Sera’s heart.
“Lorraine needs someone to slap some sense into her,” Fiona said.
“Some people react differently to things. Who knows how sh
e’s feeling? I think there’s more than meets the eye here.”
“Perhaps you should talk to her.”
“Not sure if I qualify for relationship help,” Sera admitted with a curve of her lips. “You may do better.”
“Me? You’re nuts. I have still to find a love like that.”
Fiona’s remark made Sera pay attention to her friend’s expression. Could Fiona desire something more than her existence as a social and sexual butterfly who took pride in her state as a liberated woman? However, that thoughtful face was soon smoothed out, all hints of wistfulness gone, if there had been any, and the familiar Fiona returned to check out two guys who’d just come in and rang the bell for a takeout order.
“Mmmm, nice. I like warlocks,” she said lustfully, drawing a sip of water from the straw.
“You’re something.” Sera laughed at her friend’s self-assurance, wishing she could have just a drop of it.
Like last night with Rafe. You were confident then, you hussy.
Heat pricked at her cheeks so she went the safe route and watched Jeff sulk. So much angst in the air! Sera wanted more than anything to help these two. Deep down, who wouldn’t want ‘a love like that,’ too? What she’d had with William had come close but she wasn’t even sure it had been the real deal. It had all been taken away before she’d had the chance to find out….
And Rafe? What the hell was he? Tamping down the rising anger, she continued to contemplate Jeff who sat directly across from her. Despite being built like a rock with dark looks, Jeff wasn’t too tall. He also wasn’t classically handsome, but something about him made much of the female population at Shadow Bridge swoon for he had enough charisma and charm to bottle and sell over a lifetime. Fiona found him attractive, Sera was sure, but despite her flighty nature, the girl had standards—no married men, someone else’s boyfriend, or any man who was coveted by someone she cared for and respected. Like Lorraine, even though the stubborn chef would never admit it to save her life.
Inter-species unions were not an everyday occurrence at Shadow Bridge as interracial marriages had started to be in the human world. Apart from such unions being naturally barren—when people from different species married, they could not produce offspring, except, as far as Sera and Adri knew, in Sera’s case—they were normally frowned upon by the more conservative elders who wanted to preserve the purity of each community within their town.
Inescapable (Eternelles: The Beginning, Book 1) Page 11