by Cat Marsters
She rapped on a door marked Direktor Zackary Kralik, and when it was yanked open by a gray-haired man in a crumpled shirt, she walked right in.
Finn hesitated a moment, then followed.
“Angeletti!” yelled Kralik. “Where the hell have you been? I told you to come back last night!”
His eyes raked over her, taking in the muddy jeans and damp t-shirt. Her bra-less breasts were clearly defined -- at least they were to Finn, who couldn’t take his eyes off them. She had leaves in her hair, which looked like it had been styled by a hurricane, and a smudge of dirt on her neck.
She was absolutely beautiful to him.
“I’m sorry,” Sofie said with total calm. “There was a storm. We got stuck.”
“There was no storm so severe you couldn’t have made it back!” Kralik shouted. Finn wondered if he was even capable of speaking at a normal volume. “And who the hell is this guy?”
“Dr. Fionnbar McCready,” Finn said, and gave the irate director a cheerful wave, just to annoy him. “Who the hell are you?”
Kralik went the color of beetroot, which made Sofie wince, but she recovered quickly. “Was that rude?” Finn asked, hoping he hadn’t made things even worse for her.
“Yes,” she said, “but he deserved it.”
Finn grinned, and Kralik went even purpler.
Sofie went on, “Finn is the specialist consultant I called in --”
“And has he done anything useful?” Kralik sneered.
The warmth that glowed in Sofie’s eyes made Finn’s heart glad. “Oh yes,” she said, “he has.”
But Kralik hadn’t missed the warmth either. His piggy eyes fixed on her breasts. “You’ve been fucking him!” he bellowed. “That’s why you weren’t home last night! Well, I can tell you, Detective Angeletti, that’s the sort of behavior --”
“You can’t fire me,” Sofie said quietly.
“The hell I can’t! I’m the --”
“I quit,” she said, and Kralik just stared at her.
So did Finn.
“What did you just say?” he asked Sofie.
“I said I quit.”
“Yes, I thought you did.” He scratched his ear. “Er, why?”
“Shut up, you!” Kralik snapped. “What the hell do you mean, you quit?” he yelled at Sofie.
She put her gun and her badge on the desk. “I’m leaving the force.”
“But you’re in the middle of an investigation!”
“A joke investigation. An investigation you clearly gave me because no one else would touch it with a ten foot pole,” Sofie said. “To get me out of the way. You’ve been telling me for years how unreliable I am. Well, now you don’t have to put up with me any more.”
“But -- but -- did you put her up to this?” he demanded of Finn.
Finn raised his hands. “I’m just as surprised as you are,” he said, honestly.
“No one put me up to it,” Sofie said with eerie calm. “I just… began to understand some things.”
“You’re insane!” Kralik yelled.
“There’s that possibility,” Sofie agreed. She gave him a smile. “Blame it on the full moon.”
Finn stifled a laugh.
“I’ll make a report on the case,” she said, turning to the door, “if you’re interested, which I doubt you are.”
“Did you even find anything out?” Kralik sneered, and Sofie stilled, her hand on the doorknob.
“Yes,” she said.
“Well, then?”
“It’s something you could never handle,” she said, and left the room. Finn, knowing what was good for him, high-tailed it after her.
There was a small crowd outside Kralik’s door, who all hurriedly pretended they hadn’t been listening. Sofie ignored them and walked right out, into the gray afternoon, down the street about twenty feet, and then she stumbled, looking like she was going to faint.
“Sofie?” Finn grabbed her arm.
“I just quit my job,” she said, all the color draining from her face.
“Yes, you did.” He put his arms around her and she slumped against him.
“I just quit my job.”
“Well done, sweetheart.” He stroked her hair.
“I just quit --”
“Yes,” Finn said, sensing this could go on a while. “How about we go and sit down somewhere?”
She nodded weakly, looking shell-shocked, and he led her back to the car, where she sat in silence and had to be prompted three times for each street direction.
Eventually she told him to stop outside a rather nondescript building that had seen better days, where she opened a narrow door under a plain canopy and gestured for Finn to go in before her.
He walked into a lobby lined with gilt-framed mirrors, decorated with cherubs and classical figures, chandeliers hanging from the ornamented ceiling and red carpet underfoot. There was a bar along one wall, and framed theatre posters, and dark, dusty portraits of long-dead actors. In one corner was a small booth with a seating plan displayed, and there were doors marked Pízemí and Balkon.
It was a theatre.
“You’re kidding me,” he said.
Sofie was taking off her coat and hanging it on the outstretched arm of a plaster Venus.
“You live here? This is fantastic.”
She shrugged, crossing to a bar where most of the fixtures had been removed. Standing at the back were half a dozen liquor bottles however, and she picked up one full of green liquid and swigged from it.
“It was left to me by my mother,” she said, looking around at the shabby splendor. Her voice was odd, distant. Finn guessed she was still in shock. “Been in the family for generations. Closed down before the second World War. I wanted to renovate it and my apartment was horrible, so…”
“You renovated it as a place to live.” Finn inspected a framed poster from a 1912 production of Macbeth.
“Yeah. It’s very private. People don’t hear me howl,” she said, her voice faltering.
Finn glanced over and saw her wavering, realized the bottle in her hand was pure absinthe, and raced over to catch her before she cracked her head on the edge of the bar.
“Perhaps a glass of water,” he said.
She looked at the bottle in her hand. “I don’t get drunk easily.”
Most paranormals didn’t. But Finn wasn’t taking any chances.
“I think you should perhaps have a lie down,” he said, as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Where do you sleep?”
She nuzzled his neck and Finn willed himself not to respond. “Downstairs.” She jerked her head in the direction of an ornate pair of doors, which turned out to be hiding a small, exquisite elevator.
“There are stairs,” she said, leaning against him, looking pale, “but it’s six stories.”
Finn was a little unnerved to find the elevator descending. “Did you say six stories?”
She nodded. “It’s mostly underground. Saves space.”
The elevator clattered to a halt and gave a tinny, quaint ping as the door rattled open.
“Home weird home,” Finn said, looking out at a cavernous space, ringed with gilded balconies, swags of crimson velvet and swooping plaster goddesses. From the ceiling, a hundred feet above, swung a gigantic chandelier. Straight ahead was a stage, leveled out, flanked by massive swathes of velvet and ringed with lights shaped like clamshells. They illuminated a huge, very theatrical four poster bed.
And a dog basket.
Finn’s mouth twitched, then he started laughing.
“What?”
He pointed to the basket. It was dusted with thick blonde hairs -- he bet she’d be gorgeous as a wolf -- and lined with thick cushions that matched the drapes on the bed.
“Well, the bed would get hairy,” she said defensively, but her mouth twitched too.
Leading him down the steps of the auditorium where the rows of seats had been replaced with sofas and tables, she kicked off her shoes and aimed them in the direction of the orc
hestra pit, which, Finn saw, was fitted out with rows of wardrobes.
“Drink?” she said, holding out the absinthe bottle, which Finn took but didn’t drink from. It wasn’t likely to get him drunk, and he wasn’t fond of the taste.
“So what do you tell visitors about the dog basket?” he asked.
Sofie pulled off her socks. “Visitors?” she said, and his heart went out to her.
“Your friends,” he attempted.
“I don’t have time for friends,” she said, peeling off her t-shirt, and Finn was distracted by her marvelous breasts. “I work all hours at my job.” She paused, about to drop the t-shirt into the pit. “I mean, I…”
Finn blinked and pulled himself together. Now was not the time to be lusting over Sofie’s high, round, luscious breasts, with their succulent pink nipples, soft white flesh, delicious…
He shook himself. “Job,” he said. “Right. Jobs suck, jobs are boring.”
“They are when your boss hates you.”
“He didn’t hate you,” Finn said, then thought about it. “Well, maybe a little.” Sofie gave him a look. “Little bit of a lot. Clearly a lunatic,” he said, longing to take her in his arms. Especially with her breasts all bare like that, and the sweet curve of her waist above her jeans just begging to be kissed.
“That, and I kept failing to turn up for work three nights out of every twenty-eight.”
“You couldn’t book time off?”
“Not every month. And besides, he always refused. He was looking for excuses.”
Finn was looking for bare flesh, especially as Sofie was climbing the steps to the stage and unfastening her jeans.
“If I hadn’t sniffed out the culprit of every case I was given,” she began, then slumped. “Hell. If Kralik hadn’t been so frightened of my father…”
That got Finn’s attention. “Your father?” he asked, joining her on the stage, staring up into the endless black heights of the fly loft.
“He got me my job in the first place. He’s probably the only reason Kralik never fired me.”
“Is he a werewolf, too?” Finn asked gently, and Sofie gave him an odd look.
“No, he’s the Czech ambassador to America,” she said.
“Oh.”
She shimmied the denim jeans down her hips, and Finn went a little dizzy as each new inch of pale, smooth flesh was exposed. Damn, this woman was perfect.
When she kicked the denim away, her thigh and her buttocks flexed, and Finn’s own jeans suddenly felt extremely tight.
Then she turned, all satin skin and smooth curves and blonde hair, even the triangle between her legs was blonde, and Finn caught his breath.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, lost in admiration, and the sweetest smile curved Sofie’s lips.
“Come to bed,” she said, and he moved toward her, helpless to stop.
“This isn’t -- you should lie down,” he said, even as he shucked his jacket.
“I intend to,” she replied, her smile very lupine.
“And rest,” he said, rather uselessly. His entire body was throbbing for her. His cock was like a red-hot poker. He needed to be inside her.
She’s had a shock, she needs to rest, she doesn’t need shagging into the ground, said his brain, but his body shouted it down. Loudly.
Sofie ran her hands over her body, cupping her breasts, smoothing her waist, caressing her thighs, and Finn’s brain fizzled helplessly. He backed away, circling around so he didn’t fall off the stage.
“You should --”
“Are you ordering me, Doctor?”
“Ought to rest,” he mumbled. Her hands were tugging at his shirt.
“I’m really not tired.”
“This isn’t --” what excuse had she used this morning? “-- professional…”
She gave him a look.
“H-had a shock,” he said, gasping as her hands ran over his stomach, making every muscle contract.
“Have you?” she said, her eyes glittering.
“You have.” He made a last-ditch attempt to escape, and tripped over the bed, landing flat on his back on the mattress.
“Make me forget it,” she said, straddling him, her hands unfastening his fly, and Finn groaned, “God, yes,” and let her.
Her hands were everywhere, tugging at his clothes until he was naked beneath her, stroking his chest, his stomach, his hips, brushing ever closer to his aching cock but never quite touching him where he really wanted it. Needed it.
“I want to lose control,” she said, and from the look in her eyes Finn guessed she was already halfway there. “Make me lose it, Finn.”
“Whatever you want,” he promised, and flipped her to her back.
He kissed her mouth, that wonderful hot clever mouth of hers, bit her lips and licked them better, danced his tongue around hers, made her whimper and press that glorious body against his. His hands roamed everywhere, learning every inch of her, finding the sensitive places on her inner arms, stroking her stomach so lightly her muscles jumped, cupping her sweet bottom and pressing her against him.
“I want you so much,” he said, running his hands down her wonderful long, strong back, and she gulped, blue eyes dazed, arching against him.
“You can have me,” she said, and he grinned, because he thoroughly intended to.
Although…
He dipped his head and took a thoughtful taste of her breasts. She tasted just as good as she had before, her heart thundering in her chest, her body rising each time he took his lips from her skin. He felt every jolt, every involuntary movement, felt the tension of her body wound up tight.
Too tight.
He slipped his fingers between her legs, found her hot and slippery for him. The folds of her labia were swollen and he stroked them, making her twist and gasp, watching her face, the flutter of her eyelids, the parting of her plumped-up, pink lips.
He slid a finger further up, found her clit and ran his finger around it, eliciting a moan. Damn, he could listen to that sound for the rest of his life. He stroked her some more, listening to it again and again.
“If music be the food of love,” he muttered the lines, since they were on stage and all, “play on, Give me excess of it,” and on cue Sofie moaned, her body writhing. “That strain again, it had a dying fall.” He coaxed another cry from her, smiling.
“Finn,” she gasped, and he licked her breast and slid one finger inside her. “Ó baszik!”
He figured he must be doing something right if she was swearing in Hungarian. He slipped a second finger in, and she yelped something in Swedish.
This could be fun, he thought, sliding his fingers in and out of her slick heat. How many languages can Sofie swear in before she comes?
At the third finger, she cried out in German. When he used his thumb to stroke her clit, she begged him not to stop -- in Italian. After he replaced his thumb with his tongue and sucked her clit into his mouth, she swore in Chinese, Tagalog, French, Irish, and Latin Hebrew. Finn was so entertained he nearly forgot what he was doing.
But then he remembered how he wanted to be inside her when she came, and reluctantly withdrew his fingers.
“No,” she begged, in Polish he thought, “don’t stop.”
He kissed her mouth, such a clever mouth, and moved her legs wide apart, settling himself between them.
And felt her tense again.
As his cock slid against the wonderfully slippery folds he’d so recently been exploring, her teeth nipped his lip.
“Finn,” she said, and there was a note of panic in her voice.
“Mmm,” he said, dropping his head and nibbling on her neck.
“I don’t -- I, uh --”
“It’s all right,” he said, caressing her breast and smiling at the hitch in her breath. His cock pressed desperately for entrance.
“I’ve never -- that is, it’s sort of --”
He decided to put her out of her misery. “Your first time?”
Surprise flared in he
r eyes, overtaking the nervousness. “How did you know?”
A million tiny cues, not least her nervousness and wonder when she’d stroked his cock this morning.
“I’m an Elf,” he said as airily as he could. “But you know what, sweetheart, Elves are really good at two things.”
“Talking rubbish, and…”
“All right, three things,” he said, pleased she was joking -- or at least, hoping she was. “Sex, and healing.”
“Healing?”
He smiled, kissed her lips, and slid into her.
Damn, she was tight -- too tight, and pain contorted her face as he stretched her further than she ever had been before. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, nails drawing blood. No, not nails; claws. Her teeth were growing, sharpening, her lips drawing back in a snarl. It wasn’t just pain contorting her face -- the wolf was taking her over.
She writhed and fought, spitting new curses at him in a colorful variety of languages.
Finn slid his hand between them, over her wet blonde curls, felt the steel of his cock inside her and the pain it was causing, and concentrated on ending it. He murmured mindless, soothing words, thinking hard about healing her so he wouldn’t have to think about how bloody glorious it felt to be inside her.
“Relax, sweetheart, relax.” He feathered kisses on her face, willing her muscles to loosen up, and then they did, as his healing magic took over and the pain inside her vanished. “Is that better?”
She stopped fighting, and tensed her muscles around him.
“Yes,” she said, amazement on her face, her fangs receding. “How…”
Finn winked. “I’m an Elf,” he said again, and moved just a little deeper inside her.
Sofie swore in Urdu.
Finn laughed, and pushed all the way home. Elf magic, he thought, you can’t beat it. Painless now, Sofie took him as deep as he could go, kissing his face, gripping his shoulders and urging him on.
“More,” she demanded, “deeper.”
Sunk to his balls in her glorious heat, Finn reveled in the beauty of it for a moment before pulling out as far as he could go and driving back in again. Her pussy clenched around him, so tight and hot he had to fight from coming straight away.