by C. A. Storm
Sam was tempted to call Clara back and demand answers, but she was half-afraid what the woman would tell her. Cursing under her breath, Sam tugged on her nightshirt and shorts, turned off the light and crawled into bed. She’d deal with this in the morning. If she didn’t decide to just ignore it. Fucking fairies.
Chapter 12
The bloody woman had managed to avoid him for damn near the entire week! Granted, even though he wasn’t at the office, Rik couldn’t slack off from work. He was the head of a multi-billion dollar corporation, but still! He did have a work ethic. Damn it.
Whenever he tried to catch Sam for a quick bite of lunch, she was out with his sister Genevieve, going over the grounds, since Gen knew every inch of the Estates intimately—she should, since she had bound herself to the land nearly as soon as she realized that she could.
If he tried to catch Sam during the afternoon, she was off in Grand Lake picking up some ‘essentials’ she had forgotten to bring, or else getting a walkthrough of the Village. Likewise, when dinner rolled around, she was usually part of a group, all huddled together in the restaurant, going over blueprints or gossiping and cackling like old women, but if she caught sight of him, she’d give him a deadly stare. He was getting truly frustrated. His soulmate was literally living under the same roof, and he hadn’t even been able to touch her yet! She point-blank refused to look at him or to shake his hand, much less let him pull her close and give her a thorough kissing.
He didn't know whether he should be glad that Sam seemed to be getting along with his family, or terrified that she and his sisters seemed to have already formed a coalition against him. The fact that both of his grandparents had been suspiciously absent during the week was also worrying. Not that Rik minded not having to deal with their well-intentioned meddling with his love life, but their silence was damning. They were up to something. Paranoid? Perhaps, but you don't know his grandparents!
To say that Rik was frustrated was putting it lightly. He had lost count of the times he had to retreat to his shower in his room to give himself some relief, and sleeping in his bed without her had led to restless tossing and turning. He wanted to feel her bare flesh pressed against his body, craved to sink so deep inside of her, she’d never get the feel of him out of her system. He’d become short-tempered and irritable, more so than usual, to the point even Lizzy had hung up on him. Twice!
Now, he had to drive in to Denver to pick up Audrick’s candidate for the Landsmaster position. Rik hadn’t been looking forward to having to deal with the situation, but it was rapidly coming to a head, and he still hadn’t figured out how he was going to deal with it. Hell, he still had no idea how to get his anam cara to stop glaring at him!
Rik figured the drive, and the distance, would do him some good and give him some time to think. He drove stoically, the windows down to enjoy the unusually balmy spring weather, fingers drumming restlessly on the steering wheel. Even the scenic drive through the Rockies and into Denver, that moment when the mountains parted and Denver spread out and was backlit by the rising sun, did little to alleviate his mood.
When his cell phone suddenly began blasting “A-WEEMA-WEH!” from The Token’s “A Lion Sleeps Tonight,” Rik was desperate for anything to distract him. Even his best friend. Activating the Bluetooth in his Range Rover, Rik said, “Yo, Clay, what’s up?”
“Hey, man,” Clay drawled lazily, “Still meeting up this weekend?”
Rik grinned as the inkling of an idea began to coalesce in his wicked mind. “Oh yeah, up at the Village. Weather should be beautiful, so figure we can do a few run-throughs there. Everyone else going to make it?”
“Yep,” Clay replied, “You were the last one I needed to check with. Also heard a few other groups were going to head up early, bring up some of their gear.”
“Oh?” Rik asked, not really caring, until Clay continued.
“Oh yeah, man,” Clay said, his voice suddenly rich with amusement, “Heard Evangeline and the Blade-Babes are heading up.”
“Fuck,” Rik said, feeling the onset of a migraine beginning to tick behind his left eye. “Really?”
“Yep, and Evie’s apparently gunning for you. Something about you being a two-timing bastard? Seems she heard about that little fight you had with Mona the other night,” Clay didn’t laugh, but Rik could tell the other man was barely restraining it. Fucking felines and their love of games. It’s not like he had been exclusive with anyone, and he had always made it perfectly clear that he kept his relationships casual, since he was in no way ready to settle down. At least before Sam, and he hadn’t even officially started dating her yet.
“Yeah, well, I heard through the grapevine that Ace might be getting in tonight, too,” Rik responded with a chuckle to do any supervillain proud. Two could play this game.
“You’re shitting me,” Clay said, his voice suddenly unamused.
“Like I said, just something I heard,” Rik replied smoothly as he pulled into Denver traffic. Luckily, it was past morning rush hour, so I-70 wasn’t as bad as it could have been, particularly since Mile High Airport was on the far side of Denver. He made a mental note to send Lizzy a thank you gift for arranging the man’s arrival time at a decent hour. “You know how he and his clan are. One never really expects the Ace Inquisition.”
“You’re an asshole,” Clay muttered with a dark growl, and considering the other man was a werelion, it was a rather impressive growl. For a cat, anyways.
“I but live to serve, Your Majesty,” Rik snidely returned with another laugh. “Anyways, I’ve got to pick someone up from the airport and head back to the Estates, so I’ll see you guys when you get up there.”
“So that’s where you’ve been all week,” Clay said thoughtfully. “I’d wondered why I had the place to myself. Remind me to thank you later. My playmates have been extremely thankful at having my attentions all to themselves.”
“Oy! I don’t want to hear about your debauchery,” Rik said with a laugh, “Spare me, please.”
“Hey, not my fault the Fae twinks find me so damned irresistible,” Clay’s purr was only half feline, the rest was that of a man who’d had a lot of sex lately. Rik admitted that he had slept around quite a bit, but Clay had attained levels of Manwhore Mastery far beyond what Rik ever aspired to.
“Yeah, yeah, well, I don’t need to hear about it. Catching you bare assed is never a fun experience for me, but I do have to thank you for reinforcing my heterosexuality,” Rik grinned. Clay may be a huge manwhore, and a total tomcat, both literally and figuratively, but one couldn’t ask for a better friend.
“Just doing my part to ensure the procreation of the species, one way or another, man,” Clay’s response drew another laugh from Rik.
“I’m sure my mate will thank you for that.” Ah shit!
“MATE!?” Oh, the sheer shock and amusement in that single word was almost worth what would come next. Well, after the other man finished laughing. For a solid five minutes. Great, whooping, roaring laughter. Rik let it go on, knowing that his time would come, and soon, if he knew Ace as well as he thought he did. Clay's days of catting around were numbered, even if he refused to admit it.
Should I warn him about who Ace really is? Rik briefly, very briefly, had a flash of compassion for his friend's fate.
"You? With a fucking mate? Just one? Please, tell me it's a guy! Let the Fates love me that much, please?" Clay cackled.
Nope. Damned cat is going to get collared, and I'm going to be there. With cameras. And maybe some glitter and confetti.
"Yes, I have a mate," Rik growled, though he did have to fight the urge to grin. "She's a feisty little firebrand. Mortal, with the most delectable ass I've ever seen, and right now, won't say a single word to me. Apparently, I'm an asshole. Who knew?"
"We all knew," Clay responded easily. Fucker. "So you're having problems sealing the deal? You? The King of Contracts? The Knight of Negotiation? The Proud Prince Charming?"
"Done yet?" Rik wasn't going to
laugh. That only encouraged the man.
"I'm sure I'll come up with some more," Clay said. "I'll save them for later."
"Yeah, well, I'm pulling up to the airport. I've got a potential employee to interview, and that's a whole other bag of cats to deal with," Rik smirked.
"You could be so lucky," Clay retorted. Then the man's tone turned serious, "You know if you need any help, I'm here for you, bruh."
And that's why Clay was his best friend, despite everything else. "Yeah, I know. And I may have to hold you to that. We'll talk later. Beers tonight?"
"Yeah, I should be there around 8 or 9. Rest of the troupe should be up tomorrow morning, so we can keep your shame from going public for at least another 24 hours or so," Clay said easily, and Rik could just see that smug smirk on his friend's face.
"Thanks, ever so bloody much," Rik said, finally giving in and laughing. "Catch you tonight."
As Clay hung up and the line disconnected, Rik navigated through the traffic leading to the airport. Denver International was a major hub, centrally located as it was, but Rik was well used to the quirks of dealing with the traffic. Pulling into a spot outside the baggage claim, he only had to wait a few minutes before he saw who he was waiting for.
Emerging from the electronic sliding doors was a tall, broadly built man. Although he wasn't quite as tall as Rik's own 6'2" height, he had at least 20 pounds more muscle than Rik did. His hair was a rich, deep shade of mahogany, casually short but spikey, as if the man ran his hands through it often. A neatly-trimmed beard framed a handsome face, and intelligent, sharp eyes quickly landed on Rik when he stepped out of the Range Rover.
"Hello," the man's voice was deep, and a friendly grin flashed, showing quite a bit of perfect white teeth. "You must be Rikard Leon. I'm Travis Wylde, your new Landsmaster."
The man oozed pure Alpha, and the hint of wildness barely leashed behind those dark blue eyes told Rik a lot. First, he was an arrogant son of a bitch. And second, that was quite literally the truth, since the man was a werewolf. One that Rik already didn't like.
"Yep," Rik said simply as he popped the trunk of the Range Rover. He let Travis load his own luggage, knowing how this particular game was played. It was time for the Alpha Games to begin. Rik did so love tweaking the nose of Alphas.
Flashing his own grin, one that he knew oozed with the arrogance only a Sidhe Noble could pull off, Rik said, "Welcome to Denver, Mr. Wylde. And I'm afraid you're not the Landsmaster yet. There's another candidate for the position, and she's been here for a week, already getting used to the job."
Travis tilted his head as he leaned around the edge of the SUV. With a single eyebrow quirked and that same knowing grin on his face, Travis shrugged as he said simply, "Then let the best man win."
Chapter 13
Okay, so it was kind of flattering to be stalked by a six-foot-plus, blond-haired Adonis, who kept giving her puppy dog eyes whenever he caught her looking at him. And maybe Sam was having a little too much fun glaring at him and making sure he didn't catch her alone. But after a little talk with Clara, who had been a little too gleeful in explaining that the tattoo forming on her breast was a Fairy Mark, a brand signifying a contract formed between potential soulmates, Sam had thought the bastard deserved a little comeuppance.
Rik had marked her! Without permission! Like a dog pissing on a tree! No, she didn't get flowers, or chocolates, or even a friend request on Facebook. No, Sam got a tattoo she couldn't even show off! Clara explained that Rik would likewise have a brand, and that neither of them had any control over the mate bonds, at least until they completed some ceremony that cemented it. Forever. And wasn't that some shit?
Granted, apparently the tattoo on her arm was because Bertie had also formed an oath-bond with her, but that one Sam had gotten herself into. Apparently, the Fae—the Sidhe in particular—used Sacred Oaths, reinforced by some kind of uber-glamour that governed the entire supernatural world, as the source of their power. They marked contracts in flesh and ink, sigils and symbols that represented the oaths made. The tattoos lasted as long as the oath held, and enforced the oath with all sorts of mystical mumbo-jumbo that Sam had kind of only half-listened to.
Typically, the marks were hidden beneath glamour, which had begun an entirely new discourse as Clara tried to explain it. She had been trying to track down Bertie and find out what his mark looked like, but he had been avoiding her as much as she had been avoiding Rik.
What made the Sidhe and Fae special was that they were imbued with glamour, a mystical force that permeated everything and connected this world to Otherworlds. It was different than what most Mortals considered magic, and even from what other supernaturals drew upon, in that it was instinctive and seemed to have a consciousness all its own, although one that no being could ever claim to have contacted. It was the force that shrouded supernaturals from the eyes of Mortals, although a force the Fae could manipulate, and one that Sam could apparently actually see, something that not even many Fae could do.
Sam pursed her lips thoughtfully as she regarded her clothes. Tonight, a couple of the girls were going to go into Grand Lake for drinks and dancing, a little rest and relaxation before the Village opened up in the morning for the first vendors and performers to start setting up for the yearly grand opening. Her presence had been requested by both of Rik's sisters. Clara and Gen had both conspired, quite gleefully, with Sam's complete and total avoidance of their brother until he pulled his head out of his ass and actually approached her properly. She wanted to be wooed, dammit!
Hm, maybe I need to kick things into gear, since he's apparently never going to get off that tight, tight ass of his.
Sam had read paranormal romance novels, she knew how this fated mate thing worked. It was probably why things had never worked between her and any of her previous dating partners, or with her fiancé—well, besides the fact he had torn out her heart and stomped all over it during "The Event."
Thankful that Clara had talked her into going clothes shopping the day before, since Sam hadn't packed much beyond the necessities, Sam pulled out the little number she had picked up from a lovely little boutique where the owner knew the Leon sisters by name. A rockabilly-style dress, the jet black fabric was printed with deep red roses, with a red satin faux-underskirt and a big, red satin bow that wrapped around her waist, further emphasizing her cleavage. The length came just below her knees, showing off her legs to their best, since even she could admit, she had rocking calves from all the hiking she did.
She paired the dress with a pair of black kitten pumps that had a small red bow that wrapped around her ankles, and a black half-sweater of the most decadent cashmere she had ever felt. The dress and sweater had been a splurge her bank account could probably have done without, considering she wasn't officially hired yet.
Sam quickly showered, taking extra care to shave her legs and underarms. Using a blow dryer, and the requisite product that she normally avoided like the plague, she styled her hair to emphasize the natural waves. Tying a plain black bandana from her nape to tie in a cute little bow at her crown to keep the length at least semi-tamed, she then pulled out the big guns.
Since she was going to be dancing, Sam went light on the make-up, letting her natural freckles-flag fly. Mascara, eye-liner, and a judicious use of a dark burgundy eyeshadow emphasized her gray eyes, which were further enhanced by her usual black-rimmed glasses. Satisfied with the look, she quickly got dressed and grabbed the little simple black handbag she reserved for formal occasions, forgoing her much beloved, and very battered, black leather backpack purse.
With a touch of rose-scented oil just at her pulse points on her wrists, and behind each ear, Sam was ready to drink, dance, and hopefully give the most unromantic Frenchman in the world some much needed inspiration!
Leave it to me to find the one billionaire French bad boy that doesn't have a florist on speed dial, Sam thought to herself in wry amusement as she headed down to meet the girls. She was riding down to Grand L
ake with Gen and Clara, where they were going to introduce her to some of the other local ladies who were regular fixtures at the Village.
When Sam got down to the underground parking garage, she was surprised to see Bertie grinning sheepishly at her as he stood between Gen and Clara, all three dressed to go out on the town. Stalking up to the much, much larger man, she poked him in the chest. Hard.
"You have some 'splainin' to do, He Who Tattoos Women Without Consent!" Sam growled up at him, although her glare was more teasing than serious, because she really did love the damned tattoo. It actually made her regret that she had never given in and gotten one before.
Bertie had the good grace, and sense, to look sincerely apologetic. "You have my deepest regrets, Samantha. I was unaware you would ever notice it, until Clara roundly beat me about the head and shoulders the next day." His expression turned entreating, his voice softening to a bare whisper—well, at least for him—as he said, "It was the first time, in my very, very long existence, that anyone offered friendship without any conditions, after seeing my face. And knowing now that you actually could see my real face, and still didn't hesitate, I cannot regret it. Henceforth, you have my protection, m'lady Samantha."
Bertie was shocked to the core of his being when Sam threw her arms around his waist and hugged him with a surprising strength. He looked helplessly between the two other women, who both seemed to have found something more interesting in the pavement beneath their feet.
"You're a big idiot," Sam said, her voice muffled against his stomach. She pulled back to look up at him, sniffling a bit as he ever-so-gently patted her back with one massive paw. "But thank you!" Suddenly, her face lit up in an expectant grin, "Now show it! I want to see!"