by Briar, Robin
The bell on the door jingles and he’s gone, kited away to the local ice cream parlor by a little girl.
Boone, indeed. Drop the E off the end, and it means something helpful or pleasant. The question is, will Mason be that for me?
2. Our Place of Secrets
“Am I too early?”
Mason is standing in the front door of the craft studio. He’s wearing different clothes, but the same bolo and pendant. Three days have passed since we first met. I thought my imagination might have augmented the memory of him, but the man standing in front of me is even more handsome than I remembered.
He puts all of the fantasies I’ve been having about him to shame, which is rare. I have a really good imagination.
“Not at all.”
It’s the last class of my day. Several parents are picking up their children. Piper isn’t among them.
I’ve been wearing my slinkiest clothes for the past three days, just in case he dropped by unannounced. My choice of clothing has prompted more than a few glances from the moms and prolonged stares from the dads. The creepy ones, at any rate. I haven’t been dressing this way for them, but they don’t know that.
“I would have come sooner, but, well, I didn’t want my niece to think I was here to see her instead of you.”
My heart jolts a little faster. Mason really isn’t hiding his interest in me.
Three of the mothers look at Mason, then back at me. They do it in unison with knowing grins on their faces. Not even trying to be subtle.
My face heats a little. Mason waited for an evening when Piper didn’t finish the day with me. I should have thought of that.
“I’ll be done in a moment. Mind waiting for me while I lock up?”
“Not at all. I’ll be right outside,” he says, pointing to a car over his shoulder. Mason smiles at me alone. If he’s aware of the attention we’re getting, he chooses to ignore it.
After he steps outside, the parents file out quickly. The mother who has been giving me the dirtiest looks pats me on the shoulder.
“That a bold one,” she whispers, “but not overly so. A good sign.”
She leaves with a smile on her lips and her son in tow.
I tidy up at breakneck speed, leaving most of the mess for tomorrow. Mason seems content to wait, but I’m not about to test his patience. Who am I kidding? I’m the impatient one here. Especially after waiting three days for him to show up.
I step outside and have to squint right away. It’s still bright for this time of year and the sun is directly in my face. Mason is silhouetted against his car. I don’t know cars, but it’s something old and restored.
I lock the door with one key and bend down sideways to flip the deadbolt on the ground. The dress I’m wearing pulls tight against my body.
Mason finally gets the eyeful that every other man at the studio has enjoyed. He walks over, offers me his hand, and helps me up again. I stand in the shade of his well-built frame. He drinks me in, but keeps his thoughts to himself.
“Thank you,” I say. “It’s not the easiest dress to maneuver in.”
“I can see that. Very practical,” he teases.
I’ve been reading up on classic painters for the past three days. Refreshing my knowledge just in case we actually talk about art. I don’t want to seem uninformed.
“Are you okay to go for a walk?” he asks.
I can’t keep the smile from my lips. A walk is not what I imagined, but no less appealing. If nothing else, my short dress will keep me cool.
“Unless you’re hungry? You are just getting off work, after all.”
“I nibbled on something recently,” I lie. “Going for a stroll sounds delightful.”
I don’t care what we do, but I can’t eat just now. My stomach is too nervous. Which is strange for me, after a the lifetime I’ve already enjoyed. I haven’t been this nervous around a boy since I was a teenager.
Mason smiles. “Good. I have just the destination in mind.”
We walk out of town, which takes no time whatsoever, and then continue along a trail into the forest. I’ve taken this path before, but I don’t tell Mason that. I’d rather let him show me around. It leads to an embankment overlooking a river, but passes through a forest first. It’s peaceful here, if not secluded. Not somewhere I would normally go with a stranger. Still, Mason is my boss’s brother. Not a complete unknown.
“So tell me about your childhood,” I say. “Did your family ever stop traveling?”
“Not very often. My parents worked as appraisers for some of the world’s most renowned museums. Whenever we weren’t in Europe, or Russia, or even Asia, we were here. Home has always been this town for me. It was the only fixed place Sylvia and I had growing up. I’m glad she moved back here when Piper was born. It gives me a reason to visit.”
“You make it sound like you haven’t been back here for a while,” I say.
“That’s not entirely true. I’ve snuck back a few times. Sometimes just for a few hours, walking to the end of this trail. I don’t tell anybody. My sister would kill me if she knew. Promise not to turn me in?”
I look up and notice that he’s fondling the silver pendant around his neck. The same one I noticed before. It can see now that it holds a Norse design. A wolf, if I’m not mistaken.
“Your secret is safe with me.”
Mason smiles at me in a way that makes my cheeks flush. He seems to forget about his pendant for a moment.
“You could say this town is a touchstone for me, especially when I’ve been traveling a lot.”
I understand what he means. Not just about the town, but about needing a touchstone. A place where you can clear your thoughts or gather them. It’s become that for me as well. I miss my two mentors, but getting away from the coven has been refreshing.
“I guess a childhood spent wandering the world rubbed off on you, whether you liked it or not. Like your art history knowledge. Except now you don’t know how to stop moving, even when you want to slow down.”
Mason looks at me wide-eyed. As if I accidentally glimpsed a part of his soul. I guess my words were a little more perceptive than I anticipated. I have to careful about that. I do have a knack for insight at my age.
“Yes, that exactly,” he says with awe in his voice.
That’s when I hear a strange keening sound call out from forest, well off the path. I whirl around in that direction. I can’t say for sure, but I’d almost call it sorrowful, raising the hair on the back of my neck.
“Did you hear that?” I ask Mason, looking back at him.
He’s already looking in the same direction, ears piqued. Eyes wild.
“We should go,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’ve encountered this sort of thing before.”
I’m about to follow him when I hear the cry again. I stop in my tracks. I can’t bring myself to keep walking. It’s definitely an animal, but in distress. The sound is heartbreaking. The poor creature is desperate.
Then what sounds like a struggle, thrashing sounds. Another animal, maybe a dog growling. Or what sounds like a dog.
“They’re killing it,” I say.
“I know, Jess, but it can’t be helped—”
I’m already running before I realize my feet have decided to move.
“Jess! Wait!” Mason calls out.
I’m sure he’s right. There’s probably nothing I can do, but I don’t let that stop me. I’m running through the forest, jumping over roots. I can’t see where I’m going until I break through the underbrush and reach the commotion.
It’s grisly.
The wailing has been stilled. A deer was calling out for help, but no more. The corpse of a young buck is surrounded by a pack of seven coyotes. Tearing into the carcass from all sides. Feasting on their freshly killed prey.
That is, until I burst into the clearing.
They all look up at me at the same time. I was unexpected. A sudden threat to their food source. They narrow their eyes at me and growl. The brav
est one takes a few steps in my direction.
This was a bad idea. I should have listened to Mason. If I get out of this mess, I make a promise to myself that I will always heed what he says.
Mason emerges through the forest behind me. He sees the coyotes right away and places himself between me and them. That causes the pack to stop advancing a moment. They want to bolt, but they don’t want to abandon their dinner at the same time. For now, they hold their ground. The bravest coyote barks at Mason. Mommy coyote, I suspect.
“Jess,” Mason says in a steady voice, “I want you to walk back to the path. Don’t run. Walk. Can you do that?”
“Mm-hmm,” I utter without opening my mouth.
“Okay. Then go now. I’ll follow behind you in a second.”
I do as Mason says and turn to go. When I do, I come face to face with another coyote, much closer than the rest. And bigger too. Daddy coyote. Probably the pack leader. I had no idea he was there until just now.
I back up slowly until I bump into Mason.
I don’t trust myself to speak and simply tap on his brawny shoulder, refusing to take my eyes off the new canine. Mason looks over and sees the problem. We’ve been flanked. That’s when he does something extremely unexpected.
Mason switches places with me and hunches forward. He throws his arms out and growls. A deeply guttural growl. Very authentic. So much so that it startles me.
The daddy coyote isn’t so frightened. He refuses to back down.
“Okay, Jess, change of plan. When I give the word, run.”
“What?”
“When I tell you, I want you to run. Head back to the path and follow it to the river. Got that?”
The seven coyotes behind us begin to stalk closer. Mason growls at them as well, whipping his head back and forth between the group and daddy coyote. He takes a few steps backward, away from both sides simultaneously, keeping me behind him the whole time.
“Ready?” he asks in a voice that rumbles with menace.
“What about you?” I ask.
“I’ll be fine. Just run when I tell you, okay?”
He places his hands on me, as if about to push me away. The coyote pack starts to look more feral. Tense and ready to strike. A line of saliva drips from the mouth of daddy coyote.
“Now, Jess! Run now!”
Mason shoves me away and shocks me into a sprint. My feet carry me past trees and over underbrush. I hear what sounds like a coyote at my heels, but I don’t dare turn around. Mason said to run, and that’s all I’m doing.
My heart is pumping like crazy as my feet pound against the forest floor. I’m expecting the coyote to sink his teeth into my ankle or foot, but then I hear a pained yelp instead. Did I kick him by accident? I glance back to see what happened. I can’t help myself.
Mason is right behind me, holding the daddy coyote above his head with both hands. He throws the mongrel at the seven smaller coyotes, bowling them over like pins.
Mason looks back at me, just before he is overcome.
“Run, Jess! Don’t look back!”
I don’t know where it comes from, but my legs are possessed with a burst of speed. The adrenaline I’ve been waiting for kicks in and blots out my fear. I can hear scuffling behind me, but it fades quickly as I make haste for the river.
I feel horrible leaving Mason to fend for himself, to protect this retreat, but my feet aren’t changing their mind.
I don’t know how long it takes me to reach the embankment overlooking the river, but I arrive in what feels like moments.
I can keep going, cross the water, and really safeguard myself against the coyotes. They probably wouldn’t follow me across a rushing river. Still, I can’t bring myself to go. I’m still breathing heavily, but I can’t abandon Mason. Not after what he just did. I need to go back and see if he’s okay. That’s one of the things I can do, after all.
My mentors insisted I learn how to heal the mundane way before they taught me the magical way. I can heal myself with a spell, but that’s all. For anybody else, I need first aid. Still, if I can help Mason, I must.
That’s when a figure springs out of the forest and grabs me by both arms.
It’s Mason. No sign of wild animals behind him. How did he deal with the coyotes and get here so quickly?
“Are you okay?” he asks me. “Did they bite you anywhere?”
“No. I’m fine. I think you grabbed that one coyote before he had a chance.”
Mason’s shirt has been torn in several places. His pants too.
“What about you?” I ask frantically. “You’re all clawed up.”
I look more closely. Despite his damaged attire, Mason doesn’t seem to be bleeding anywhere. Not even a scratch.
“I’m all right. They got my clothes, but that’s all. I was lucky. I think the pack gave up once they realized I wasn’t worth the effort.”
“You act like coyotes can be reasoned with. They had you surrounded. I saw them.”
“Only for a moment. Coyotes give up if you make a fuss. A deer is more appealing to them than me, after all. They were only protecting their prey.”
Mason is so composed about it all. He’s not even breathing heavily. I’m still overwhelmed. It all happened so fast. I must be looking up at Mason in state of awe, because he notices.
“What?” he asks. “Is there something on my face?”
I press my lips against his before he knows what hit him. It feels like the most natural thing in the world for him to do. It takes him a moment to adjust, but his strong hands fall onto my back.
Mason returns the kiss, creating his own momentum. I grab his broad shoulders and pull him toward me, reclining us against the grass. I lie beneath him as he hovers over me.
“Jess, I’m not who you think I am. You don’t know anything about me. Not really.”
“We all have our dark secrets,” I tell him. “I’ll take my chances.”
“You say that without knowing what mine are.”
“Tell you what. If you don’t judge my secrets, I won’t judge yours. Deal?”
Mason smiles.
“Where were you for the past sixteen years of my life?”
“Painting. The very thing you grew up to hate.”
He chuckles. I was guessing, but I’m obviously right. How could any child grow with two obsessed parents like his and not hate painting?
“I don’t think I hate it anymore,” Mason says, and then leans in to kiss me again.
3. Caution to the Wind
Mason slips both hands behind my head. His lips are insistent and moist. Pushing against and pulling me toward him at the same time.
Mason isn’t in a rush, which is a welcome change from the unbridled exuberance of younger men. He’s a practiced hand. The rhythm of his desire is a steady and unrelenting pulse. His body presses against the length of mine. Pinning me without crushing me.
I wrap my legs around his back and slip my shoes off. They fall soundlessly onto the grass. My feet want to be naked. They aren’t the only part.
I widen my legs apart and bend them at the knees, resting my feet on his lower back. The rigidness between his legs is very apparent now. Mason reaches up under my jaw and turns my head sideways. I don’t resist.
He kisses my neck. Then again. He keeps going, repeating the gesture in a line. I close my eyes. Bite my lower lip. The dampness from his mouth tingles. It instantly dries on my skin in this summer heat. The warmth of his contact sends a shiver from my neck down into my toes, exciting all the parts in between. I don’t want him to stop. Fortunately, Mason doesn’t want to either.
There will be grass stains on my dress after tonight. I don’t care. Mason shifts his weight. His hand passes between my breasts. A stray finger grazes one of my nipples through the fabric. I inhale sharply at the accident. If it was an accident.
I lift a hand to my face, covering one eye. The other one must be spinning like a pinwheel. Mason notices that too, like he seems to notice everything. I shoot
a smile at him, a look of encouragement. He understands.
His hand rests on my belly, fingertips across my stomach. He claws at the fabric. Mason wants to remove the barrier between us. I don’t want it to be there any more than he does. Who am I to deny that impulse? This is exactly what I hoped would happen. I just wasn’t expecting to be saved from a pack of wild coyotes.
I grab the fabric of my dress in both hands, gather the material in my fists, and slowly draw it up.
My panties are revealed first, then my belly button, until finally my entire stomach is exposed. The invisible little blonde hairs that we all have are illuminated by the sun. Mason sighs. Actually sighs. Taking me in. Then his lips are on me again. My belly first.
His mouth widens to taste the salt on my skin. His teeth close, just over the surface. Mason nips at my skin, not really biting. I lose my breath. My stomach quivers.
He adjusts himself. Navigates down my body. His hands drift to the waistline of my panties, and he inhales. Smelling the wetness between my legs. Then he migrates even further down, passing his face over my mound, moving to my inner thigh, leading with his nose.
A spare hand lifts my leg. Places it over his shoulder. I prop myself up onto both elbows. I want an unobstructed view. My mouth hangs open, stupid with anticipation. I can’t even hide how much I want him.
Mason drops his face between my legs. Draws the bridge of his nose against my nethers. Pushing the damp cotton of my panties ever upward. I gasp at the intimacy of his touch. My other leg drops open, widening the chasm.
I push my pelvis against him. I want him to keep going. I don’t hide it. He hooks the crotch of my panties and pulls it aside. Laying me bare for the tasting. No pretense now.
His tongue, strong and gentle, explores the wings of my lips. Circling the engorged nub he finds nestled there. I lean back again as he worries my folds. My breath turns ragged as Mason holds my hips, one arm curled around each leg, leisurely servicing my pleasure.
I writhe in the grass. Overcome. The little shocks caused by his deft ministrations are in control now. Each one strikes a spark in my core and fires outward in every direction all at once. I am a puppet to his oral mastery.