“I don’t mind.”
“With her only being half, it may not be a problem,” Thom said. “You might not need me.”
“What might not be a problem?”
“Nothing to worry about.” Heath reached between them and pressed himself against her opening.
“Don’t take it the wrong way, but whenever you say that, I fear the exact opposite.”
“I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but—”
He put his tongue in her mouth, effectively stifling her objection, and then his cock was in her. She would have lost her breath if she’d been able to breathe at all at the moment.
He was very still for a minute, and then he might as well have been. His movements were so small—so measured—if it weren’t for his sheer size, she wouldn’t have felt him. She suspected he was trying to be gentle and to give her body the chance to accommodate him, but she didn’t want gentle from him, at least not yet.
She squeezed him within her, and gasped at the bright ripples of pleasure radiating down her legs and up her torso. She was hard up. It’d been so long, and she’d wanted him so badly.
“I suppose I shouldn’t expect patience from you, love.”
She could only croak in response, as he’d dipped his hips and worked his way deeper into her only to pull almost all the way out. So good. So good, but she’d known it would be. She tightened her legs around his waist and encouraged him faster, deeper, less concerned about his pleasure than her own. After all, he had kept her waiting.
“We’ll get there, Princess,” he whispered.
“I want to get there soon.” So soon, or she might die from need. Her body craved the fire he stoked and couldn’t get enough of the burn—of the mix of pleasure edged with pain because he was so large and she was so tense. She couldn’t relax with him in her. She met each of his thrusts with one of her own, clenching around him and mewling at the pleasurable sparks created by her sensitive nipples abrading his bare chest. All the while, he kissed her as if she didn’t need to think or breathe, and she wondered if she should just give up on trying.
He swirled his hips and thrust, hard flesh into receptive vessel, his tongue giving the same pace and enthusiasm.
And there went that tightening pull where her body half hung on and half gave in, she both pushed at him and drew in him. Wanting to stretch out the lovemaking, but to stoke it to a climax, too. She wanted that more. Wanted that feeling of freedom that came with holding on so tight and then letting go for someone she trusted.
And she did trust him. Knew he spoke the truth when he said she was his top priority. It’d been so long since she’d been anyone’s top priority, and so she’d reward him with her body. Her faith.
The breathtaking cascade started in her belly and swirled around her body, drawing in each inch of muscle as if her orgasm was a sinkhole of pleasure. Whispering his name again and again, she could hardly feel anything except him and that brightness and everything else was numb. Nothing else mattered.
Just him. His body. His lips. His whispered, “Simone? You hear me?”
“Mmm.”
“Open your eyes for me.”
“Huh?”
“Open your eyes, love.”
She pushed them open slowly. It seemed such a chore. Her vision cleared on Heath on top of her, but in double. No, not double. Just…energy. His energy. The real Heath, his body, was very still. He held her tight to him, his face in the throes of passion. Her own head—she could see her own head right beside her—was tilted back and her eyes were half closed.
“I don’t…” She let the words trail off, because she noticed they weren’t alone.
Thom, still by the door, eased closer to them. He picked up his knife, held the blade beneath Heath’s nose and mouth, then Simone’s.
No fog.
“Heath?” she whispered, though whispering seemed pointless. Certainly Thom couldn’t hear them.
“We’ll slip back in. I just wanted you to see what we’d done.”
“What did we do?”
“Happens sometimes when a couple’s energy fully mingles the first time. Side effect of certain types of power colliding. We were once more spirit than man, and we often forget that.”
She reached out tentatively for his face, and drew back when her fingers breached his energy. That’s what she’d felt back in Norseston—that mingling. That…merging of essences.
“If we weren’t meant to be together, we wouldn’t blend,” he said, as if tapping into her thoughts.
“What would happen if we blended completely?”
“It’s just not done.”
“Because it’s impossible?”
“No, it just isn’t done.”
“Heath?” Thom said.
“We should return.” Heath indicated their still, waiting bodies.
“How?”
“It’s a bit like putting on a pair of snug jeans. Just take a deep breath slip back into yourself. Should work, in theory.”
“In theory, Prince?” Seemed insane, but simple enough. She closed her eyes and imagined she was on her bed and zipping herself up.
Heath’s heavy weight and the twitch of her cock made her eyelids spring up.
He kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips, and gently pulled himself from her. Grabbing his discarded shirt, he looked to Thom. “She was curious about what would happen if we merged.”
“Intentionally, you mean.”
“Aye.” Heath cleaned himself up with his shirt.
Simone reached for her rumpled pajamas.
Thom grunted. “I’m not sure anyone knows at this point. So few people are capable of it.”
“You mean, not every mated pair does that?” She should have felt at least a little uncomfortable having been fucked into a stupor with Thom watching, but…again, it just felt par for the course. Maybe it was practicality, or maybe it was just the fact there was nothing shameful about it. Thom was included, but…not.
“I imagine those who are capable of it avoid it. When you do that, obviously you’re leaving your physical body unprotected. It’s one thing if you have someone around to watch your back or if you’re well-hidden.”
“But not such a great idea when you’re out in the open.” She wriggled into her bottoms.
“Aye.”
“What purpose does doing it serve?”
Heath shrugged. “I suppose it depends on what the flavor of magic is once it’s combined. Our history says that some did it to tend to nature—heal plants and cure animals of illness, that sort of thing. Some did it to grant wishes, if they could.”
“So fairies do grant wishes?”
“There’s always a little truth in every fable. Mostly, they’d do small favors. Helped keep gardens watered and minded small children when parents turned their backs. A couple would generally pick a family or small area to assist.”
“But you don’t do that anymore.”
“Hard to now,” Thom said. “There are so few of us, and most of us live in the realm. I imagine some of the eldest amongst us will take up the habit once again once the realm no longer exists.”
Heath leaned back against the wall and rubbed the scruff on his chin. “I bet it’d be a good way to parcel off extra energy.”
Thom’s nod came slowly. “You’d just be doing what you’re doing now, but more discreetly.”
“What do you mean?” Simone asked.
“Do you remember the anemic woman in Norseston?” Heath asked.
“The one at the store?”
“Right. I could help people like her without them knowing it.”
“Haunt hospital halls and give a boost to whomever needs it?”
“That’s the idea.”
Thom settled onto his back and wove his fingers together atop his belly. “It’d be a very Sídhe thing to do, wouldn’t it?”
“Not the Sídhe we are now,” Heath said. “The Sídhe we once were, before…”
&n
bsp; He let the words fall off, but Simone knew the gist. Before they’d been confined to their realm. Before their queens and kings got greedy. Before their gods turned their backs on them. So typical for her life to be pulled into things at the exact moment turmoil started. She knew there would be some, and she knew some of it would be because of her.
She crawled next to the wall and curled her legs up to her chest. Heath pulled her closer and laid an arm across her body.
“Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown,” she whispered. A bit of Shakespeare seemed appropriate at the moment. The Bard knew drama better than anyone.
“More uneasy for some than others,” Heath returned.
“I don’t want one.”
“Neither do I, nor the job that comes with it. It’s the only thing I have that I regret having to share with you. But relax, love, it’ll be all right.”
“How can you say that? I’m not fit to serve anyone, especially not thousands of mistreated Sídhe.”
“Hestia seems to think otherwise. So do I, and the crew, as well.”
“That’s because I’m yours.”
“No, they have their own minds, and often enough, they prove it.”
Thom snorted softly.
“But why me?” she asked. There was nothing special about her beyond being born a so-called key, so why had she captured Hestia’s favor? Or the Heath’s flattering ardor?
“Why not?” Heath whispered, squeezing her tight. “You’re a princess of the Sídhe. Don’t ask why. Ask why not.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Simone cringed at yet another booming thud from the backlot where the construction crew was digging out the footprint of the new Fairy Dream House. That’s what she’d started thinking of it as. Siobhan described it in such flowery terms, Simone wondered if the woman had missed out on playing with dolls as a child. The structure she described sound more like Barbie’s big pink townhouse—with working elevator—than a discreet lodging for a crew of transient biker fairies. Actually, Simone had vetoed the suggestion of pink. “It’ll stand out!” Siobhan had said.
“Exactly what we don’t want,” Heath had called out from the office closet where he and Thom were installing a gun safe. There’d definitely be no more midnight fucks in that little room. There was no longer space for it, not that there was any time for fucking, anyway.
The past week had been a whirlwind of construction and fairies coming-and-going. Oddly, Heath and Thom hadn’t left, though everyone else in the crew had at various points. Every time Simone thought about calling them on their sudden shifts toward domesticity, she was distracted by one more thing—a guest checking in, or the contractor needing approval for some change, or laundry. Lots and lots of it. Heath may have been the Prince in Leather, but obviously Simone was the Princess in the Laundry Room. It wasn’t like she could hire help. The last thing they needed was more people caught up in the mess.
Heath was only managing to keep Sully away from Zenia with use of some colorful threats, and Dasha had flown back to San Francisco with a warning that she’d be back at some unspecified point in the near future. If Thom hadn’t been keeping Ethan busy with mini missions, Ethan might have followed her across the country. Simone saw the fire and hunger in his eyes and knew he was craving, but Simone refused to put one more person into the mess until she was sure doing so was safe. She knew for a fact Dasha fought like a girl, and not in the good way.
Heath set a cordless drill on the counter and hooked his chin over her shoulder. His hands skimmed up her belly, and his cock ground against her spine.
“Heath.” She gave a halfhearted wriggle away from him.
“No one’s here but Thom. Obviously, he doesn’t care.”
“There are contractors coming in and out of this office something like once every twenty minutes.”
“We could lock the door. Pull down the shade. They’ll probably think you’re grabbing a nap or something.”
“You could put up a Back in Twenty sign,” Thom said from the closet.
“Enabler,” she muttered.
“That I am, Princess.”
“It’s only been a week,” she said to Heath. “You’ll survive a bit longer without being topped off.”
“I’m a sexual creature, love. You have no idea how excellent my behavior is under the circumstances.”
“Yes, you’re very respectful, lech.” She nodded sardonically.
He gave her a little swat to the ass, groaned, and peeled himself off her. “Your lech. Admit it.”
She shrugged and picked up the phone receiver to call the sign shop. The neon in the Hearth sign had burned out on one side. “Fine. My lech.” She could admit that much. She was tired of protesting it, even if she was afraid of what it meant.
“Heard that, Thom? My wife accepts me as her own personal lech.”
“It’s about time.”
Simone rolled her eyes and grinned as the sign shop clerk came onto the line. “Hi, this is Simone Bristol—”
“Horan,” Heath and Thom said in unison.
She covered the mouthpiece, hissed, “Go back into the closet,” and waved them away.
They went, but made her wait before they did it. She sighed before turning her attention back to the clerk. While explaining what had gone wrong with the sign, that goddamned hobo cab pulled into the lot and parked next to the office door.
If it were another guest, the fairies would be sleeping in even closer quarters. The motel was very nearly at capacity for the number of functional rooms at the moment.
She hung up the phone just as the cabbie pulled in three large suitcases and an overnight bag.
Dasha tottered in on sky-high heels after him, pushing her sunglasses up her nose. “Do you have cash to pay him? I never have cash. You’d think after last time, I would have thought to stop at the ATM before leaving the airport.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I told you I’d be back.”
“I thought later. Like, much later.” Like, after some of the dust settled in the motel and in Simone’s life, too.
The cabbie cleared his throat.
Thom walked out of the closet, billfold at the ready. “How much?”
“Airport to here is a hundred bucks.”
Dasha’s jaw dropped. “That’s extortion. You only charged fifty last time, and you said you were coming this way anyway.”
He shrugged. “And I was. I could make more driving around the airport all day then driving back toward home. Gonna take me a couple of hours just to get back up there.”
“Oh, curse you, you little—”
“Enough of that.” Thom dropped some bills onto the cabbie’s palm and gestured toward the door. “The next time you need to bring a fare here, make sure you quote them the rate before they get in.”
“Eh, I know how to run my business.”
“Then you should know we probably won’t be referring any more guests to you,” Simone said. “But that’s okay. I’m sure the concierges at the chain motels throw plenty of business at you.”
They actually probably didn’t. They tended to prefer the drivers who, at the very least, vacuumed the petrified French fries out of their cars on occasion. Or whose cars didn’t reek of the morning’s catch. Grouper, usually.
He backed toward the door, looking back and forth between the hundred bucks in twenties in his hand and Simone. “Uh, how’s eighty sound?”
“Bye.” Dasha held the door open for him and shooed him out. Turning back to the counter, she plopped her hands on her hips and grinned. “All right. Entertain me.”
Simone pushed up an eyebrow. “What?”
“Agency is closed for a few weeks over the holidays, and I took an extra week off for decompression time. Let’s go do stuff. I’m sure the motel can run itself for a few hours.”
“I wouldn’t mind getting away from the construction noise for a while.” Simone looked to Heath, who looked to Thom.
“What’s the silence conferen
ce about?” Dasha asked. “I just meant we’d go get some dinner and haunt a bar for a little while.”
“The Shell Shack has a pretty well-stocked bar,” Simone said. “And it’s a weeknight, so that means no holy rollers there to look down their noses at us.”
Dasha shrugged. “That’ll do.”
***
Simone sat at the short side of the bar and squinted through the window at the couple of fairies on bikes parked on the edge of the lot. She knew they were quite capable of being discreet when they wanted to be, but apparently, it wasn’t one of those times. Dasha hadn’t seemed to notice them yet, and Simone didn’t want to draw her attention to them. She didn’t know what they were up to, and the last thing she needed was Dasha thinking Simone’s husband was weird. Well…weirder. Simone still couldn’t tell most of the bikes apart, but was pretty sure the one with the red tank belonged to Ethan. If he took his helmet off, she’d be able to tell for sure. He was the blondest of all the men.
Zenia stepped through the kitchen doors holding a tray, and a broad grin spanned her face. “Yay, I thought I was deluded in thinking we were actually friends, but here you are, and it’s only been, what, ten days?”
“Ha ha,” Simone said.
“Be right back. Let me deliver this slop.”
They put in an order for a pitcher of margaritas while waiting.
Dasha drummed her nails against her water glass. “Do you remember how your mom took us out to celebrate after college graduation?”
Simone groaned. They’d been having a great time, but they always did when they went out with her mother. Simone had gotten so drunk that night, she could barely remember getting home. “What made you think about that?”
“We were at a bar kind of like this one, and Thom reminded me of something she’d said.”
“Thom did?”
“Mm-hmm.” Dasha paused to pour margarita slush into her glass. “I’d said something about how surprised I was at having to managed to finish school in four years because it seemed my luck was so bad that I had to be cursed.”
“I remember that.”
“Yeah, and your mother said I should never say that word because I’d draw attention to myself. I didn’t think anything of it at the time because your mother was always oddly superstitious.”
Beyond The Veil: A Paranormal & Magical Romance Boxed Set Page 95