Under the Bridge

by Dawn, Autumn

  “Ja.”

  “You could teach me.”

  There was a long silence. “You want me for your teacher now?” The words had bite. “Tomorrow, it will be advisor. You don’t need a troll in your court.”

  “What court?” she demanded. She thought about what he was saying and came to a bitter conclusion. It hurt. “You’ve decided you can’t love, haven’t you?” Figured. Maybe she just wasn’t lovable. She ignored the fact that Eyrnie had never thought so. She couldn’t think of him now.

  She couldn’t help lashing out. “So what’s it to be, hit and run romance? Are you planning to stick around for the pregnancy, or will you pick up the offspring in nine months or so? Should I request a deposit for my services now, or do we settle on half up front, half—”

  “Stop it.” He set down the dishtowel.

  “Why? You’ve made it clear what you want. I’m just trying to be accommodating.”

  He growled low in his throat and trapped her against the counter. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

  A tear slid down her cheek. “Too late,” she said tightly.

  He made a pained sound and lifted her to the countertop, pressing between her knees. He ignored her attempt to push away and pulled her flush against him.

  She hissed. She was so tightly wound, she hurt. She hated that he didn’t care about her, but he could still make her feel this. He’d hurt her, and she wanted him to make it better. She was such a sucker.

  He buried his face against her neck and slowly licked her. She quivered. “Something for you, then.” He whisked her t-shirt off and dispensed with her bra, ignoring her struggles. His lips were soft as he kissed her breasts, swiping his tongue over them in lazy licks. The whisper thin armor was no impediment; it had been designed to cushion blows, not halt a lover’s caress. He took his time, treating the soft flesh like vanilla ice cream topped with fresh red cherries.

  She tried to kick him. He trapped her feet with his legs and worked his way down her belly.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” she gritted. She couldn’t take that, not when she was trying to hate him.

  He made a low growling sound, and unbuttoned her jeans as if he hadn’t heard her. The way his eyes were glowing, she wasn’t sure he had. She struggled, so he flipped her belly down on the floury counter and swatted her butt. She froze in shock and then tried to crawl off.

  He got the jeans off and tossed her socks, easily subduing her. He held her down with an arm across her lower back and kissed the glowing mark on her rump. Then he lowered his face and licked her wet cleft.

  Billy squealed and squirmed, the flour sliding coolly between her flesh and the hard wood. If it was an awkward position for him, he didn’t seem to mind. Soon his finger joined in the teasing, thickening until she was uncomfortably full. She remembered what he’d said, how he was readying her for full possession.

  She could not resist. Pushing up with her arms, she pushed against his tongue and finger, moaning. It felt so good, and she screamed as she climaxed.

  He flipped her over and slid her bottom to the counter’s edge. Hooking her legs over his shoulders, he moaned against her wet flesh. She thought dazedly that the way he was going at her, it almost seemed as good as sex for him. He was ritualistic, hungry. Instead of fighting him, she leaned back and let him have his fill.

  Eyes closed, she felt something heavy and hard rubbing against her. She didn’t look as he teased her with his naked length. “I don’t want to be pregnant.” The motion didn’t stop, and she opened her eyes.

  His were hot and yellow. He handed her a pinch of flour. “Then sheath me,” he growled. He was permitting her to accept him without consequences.

  She looked at the flour and at his massive erection. He didn’t look as if he wanted to stop, even if she refused to continue.

  He must have read her expression, for he leaned down and kissed her. After that, she no longer wanted to deny him. She whispered to the flour, and it flowed down, covering him with a protective film.

  He eased the head of his shaft inside her. She moaned…and the window blew inward.

  Ash swept her off the counter as glass tinkled over the floor. He slowed her fall with an arm around her waist, but she still landed badly. Fortunately her armor absorbed much of the blow as her arm and hip hit the polished wood.

  Ash growled and rose up…and up. Shedding his glamour, he assumed his true form, stomping toward the gunmen who burst into the kitchen with a growl like an enraged bear. Billy risked a peek and saw him grab the nearest man—there were several—and rip his arms off. He threw the shrieking man at another, knocking them both down. Bullets bounced from his thick hide, pinging off his tusk. He couldn’t have been safer if he were a tank.

  A low explosion took out her kitchen wall, sending shrapnel flying. Billy ducked, and even Ash staggered. There was a blinding flash, and she was seized in a steel grip.

  “Hello, love.” Jason hauled her up against him and laid a knife-edge against her throat. “Sorry about the mess.”

  She gripped his wrist and started to mutter in the Old Tongue, but he pressed the knife closer in warning. “No, you don’t. Keep the Tongue in your head, missy; I’ve no interest in fae magic tricks.” He looked at Ash. “Now, shall we deal, troll, or do I draw a new smile on your girl’s neck?”

  Ash stared at him with big yellow eyes. Casually, he reached down and picked up the man whose arm he’d ripped off. As the man moaned, he fished inside his chest and pulled out his heart. Tossing the body aside, he bit off half the still beating organ, chewing it like an apple.

  Billy gagged and tried to turn her head, but Jason wouldn’t let her. “Naw, this is good for you. I’m guessing you weren’t thinking about what he really was earlier. Not good to deceive yourself, is it?” He nuzzled her ear. “No worries; I’ll take care of him.” He backed toward the kitchen door, dragging her with. To Ash, he called, “You coming, big guy? Or do you concede your girlfriend to me?”

  Ash rumbled and followed, tossing the rest of heart over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed shrewdly as moved closer.

  “Atta boy,” Jason murmured, and tossed Billy aside as Ash committed to a charge. Lickety split, he was out the door.

  Ash didn’t bother with the door, charging through the wall. Seconds later, there was a second crash of wood and glass. Billy stood and ran to check, staring at the jagged hole that had been her front door. The men were nowhere in sight.

  Shaken, she ran a hand through her hair and hurried into the kitchen to dress before another disaster could strike. Blushing miserably, she wondered how much of the show Jason and his men had caught.

  Not that the bodies strewn over her floor would ever tell. Feeling light-headed, she leaned on the counter and stared at the mess of blood and shrapnel. How would she get rid of the bodies? It wasn’t like she could call the cops; they’d ask all kinds of awkward questions, and a fire would draw attention. Since she didn’t have a bulldozer, she’d have to use magic.

  And then there was her house. Thanks to the glamour on the property, her neighbors didn’t notice much that went on here, and it was a good thing. She didn’t have much of a front wall anymore. The house needed patching, something sustainable that could last once she stopped the flow of magic. Her eyes traveled out to the trees in the front yard, and she smiled with relief. Yes, that would work.

  Her magic worked well on trees, as evidenced by the incident at the college. The house would be forever changed, but that might be a good thing. The old wreck had needed repairs forever.

  She had no intention of chasing after Ash. The troll could hold his own. She didn’t think Jason could take him.

  His transformation had shaken her. Knowing he was a troll was one thing; seeing him eat a human heart was another. He was everything she’d been warned about; she’d let herself be blind.

  Thinking of the warning made her think of Eyrnie. She tried to call again, but got no answer. Unable to put it off any longer, she turned to the wreck of h
er home. Closing her eyes, she reached for the cold river deep within.

  It was easier to reach the current this time. Billy placed her hands on the counter and thought about what she wanted in her new house. Kitchen, bedroom, bath. She could keep it simple for now. Once she knew what she was capable of, she could refine it. She held the picture in her head and asked the trees and stones to shift.

  The results were explosive. The power blasted from her in an icy fountain, flooding the house with a brilliant white light. Reeling, she tried to tone it down, but it was like trying to dam the Mississippi River; every time she thought she had it contained, it broke loose, drowning her with power.

  “What’s this?”

  She struggled with the magic, ignoring the voice in her head. Now she was going crazy, too.

  A male voice—it felt male, at least, said with interest, “House building are we? Let’s give her a hand.” Other voices chimed in, making her stagger with the sheer variety. She couldn’t rein in the power, couldn’t stop the clamor in her head.

  Suddenly the power was lifted from her, as if strong hands had taken the reins of a wild horse. The earth bucked under her feet, and she grabbed the counter as the walls cracked. Massive tree roots burst through the walls, ripping them away. She felt the architect in her head laugh at her modest plans, vastly expanding their scope. Underground chambers formed, linked by a maze of tunnels. Stone shifted through the earth, forming flagstone floors and granite fireplaces. Sand melted and flowed into fey lanterns that glowed blue-white.

  All the while, the trees grew taller, fusing and twisting into walls and floors, until finally closing to form a roof high overhead. The draw on her eased as the last little touches were finished. The power slowly seeped away, leaving her utterly exhausted. As she sank to the floor, she heard, “Sleep well, daughter. Enjoy your new home.”

  15. Where Have All the Good Men Gone?

  Billy groaned as she came to on the hardwood floor. Using the counter as leverage, she slowly got to her feet.

  The kitchen wall was no longer broken. In fact, the room looked better than ever with polished oak floors, hickory cabinets and modern-looking appliances. There was even a full compliment of shiny copper pots.

  The bodies were gone. She had a vague memory of the trees absorbing them as they grew. It solved that problem, but yuck.

  Though she felt woozy, she had to see the outside. Hurrying to the front door, she rushed down the steps, barely catching herself as she stumbled on the new flagstone path.

  The Harley and her old car were still there, looking strangely out of place on the freshly cobbled drive. She leaned on the car and turned to look at the house—and stared.

  The old building had been completely absorbed, morphing into an elegant tree house that rose three-stories from the roots to the bark shingles. The windows glowed with cheery yellow light, and luminous moss lit the trees. Fireflies flickered in the night, adding to the otherworldly ambience.

  A tall hedge enclosed her property in front, while the misty woods in back seemed to stretch forever. As she walked around the house, she could see her garden had been greatly expanded, with new species everywhere she looked. Not only were her bantams and quail safe, they’d added a flock of ducks. In fact, she now had a stream running past her home complete with a cute stone bridge, swans and…flamingos. She blinked, but the flamingos stayed, heads nodding lazily. A flock of peacocks wouldn’t surprise her at this point.

  As she turned to go back in the house, she saw what she thought was a white deer grazing in her meadow. She gasped as it lifted its head to look at her, revealing a spiral horn. Losing interest, it went back to grazing.

  Dazed, she entered the front door, a little afraid she’d get lost if she tried to go in back.

  The living room was now as polished as any magazine spread. Simple, yet elegant furniture graced the room, and a granite fireplace topped with a gold-framed mirror flickered cheerfully. Gold silk curtains framed the windows and wool tapestry rug softened the hardwood floor. The polished, green onyx coffee table held a lotus floating in a crystal bowl. A chess table sat to the side, its white marble and red onyx stone game pieces tempting a visitor to relax and chat.

  It was gorgeous, but she hurried up the stairs, worried about her personal stuff; a fear that was compounded when she found no trace of her mother’s things among the many guest rooms. Panicked, she opened doors until she found a room with a private library. She recognized her books and relaxed. A quick dash to the roomy closet showed her jeans and t-shirts, along with new clothes in linen, cotton, silk and wool. There was even an alpaca scarf draped over a nice cashmere coat.

  Relieved, she surveyed her room approvingly. An elegant but simple bed, cotton bedding with velvet throw and cushy reading chair made the room feel welcome, and another wool tapestry rug warmed the hardwood floor.

  The attached bath felt like a spa with fresh new linen, a roomy stone-tiled shower, oversize tub and double sinks. The space was well lit by a skylight, and the abundance of plants made it feel like part of the outdoors.

  She felt a momentary pang as she looked at the sinks, knowing she had no one to share them. She felt tired as she thought of Ash, and worried about Eyrnie. The sadness made her fading adrenaline more apparent, and she realized she was exhausted. She needed sleep before she’d be any use.

  Despite the fact that they’d been of little use—everyone had seemed to waltz into her home as they pleased lately —she checked the wards. She was pleasantly surprised to find them much strengthened. Greatly daring, she took a fast shower and slid into pajama pants and a tank top. At least if there was a commotion in the middle of the night, she’d be dressed for action.

  She didn’t think Jason would be back, though. He’d clearly been after Ash, though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe he had a thing for trolls.

  As a precaution, she slept in her armor with her knife under the pillow. If nothing else, the wards should warn her if anyone stepped onto her property.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t think to ward her dreams.

  She could tell it was going to be bad even before she’d drifted off, but didn’t try to wake. The dream had the flavor of Eyrnie, and she wanted to talk to him.

  She should have stayed awake.

  As the darkness swirled around her, she was slammed into a rock. Eyrnie was there, his eyes blood red, teeth bared. “You killed him! You bitch.” He slammed her again when she struggled, blocking her knee to the groin with his thigh. “Oh, no. You will pay.”

  “For what?” she gasped, grabbing his wrists. She’d never, ever been afraid of Eyrnie, but this wild man wasn’t someone she knew. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  He backed off as if he couldn’t trust himself another moment. With a manic smile, he said, “Your mother is free from her tree.” As she paled, he growled, “She said you told her she’d have to go through your friends before she could get to you.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I never—”

  “Did you list your protectors? When you locked her in that tree, did you not name my father as one of the people who cared about you?”

  She blanched. Her mother had said that no one would protect Billy from her vengeance. To prove her wrong, Billy had named those she thought would care if her mother tried to hurt her. Eyrnie’s dad had been at the top of the list.

  Her eyes welled as the truth hit her. She had killed him.

  His mouth lifted in a snarl. “She arranged an ambush for him. My father is dead because of her.” Because of you. He didn’t say it, but she knew what he believed.

  Pixies were vengeful. She knew that, but somehow she’d never thought… “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Eyrnie, I’m so sorry.”

  His eyes narrowed as he stepped back. “Don’t call me. Don’t try to see me. You’d better hope your troll is there to save you, Bianita—because I won’t.” He faded out.

  She woke crying. It was morning, perversely bright and cheerful. He’d timed his dream to be
fresh on her mind when she woke.

  She lay there for a while and then drew in a shuddering breath. If her mother were back, then she had things to see to. Lying in bed wasn’t going to help her friends.

  Had he still been talking to her, Eyrnie would have been surprised to see where Billy went first. Church wasn’t something they talked about, and was certainly an odd place for a fae. The church didn’t have a great history with the otherworldly, and the cold iron of Christian invaders had done much to destroy fae kind.

  However, Billy had always felt that the Church and Christianity was not always the same thing. She had her own take on God’s love.

  It was a surprise to see Jason waiting for her outside the church, though. He leaned against his car and watched her curiously as she descended the stairs. He had a large gash on his right temple and his bottom lip was puffy. “Sneaking into church, are we? What would your Grandma say?”

  She sent him a dirty look, watching for sudden moves. “What are you doing here?”

  He shook his head. “What is this, a fae child’s rebellion? Human children smoke or play with Ouija boards, you dabble in forbidden religion?”

  She worked to smooth her expression. “I like the music. Where else can you hear a live band?”

  “Hm.” He looked at her shrewdly. “The followers of the Christian God are known for their great success in exterminating fae. A girl could learn some handy things from them.”

  Impatient with his banter, she asked, “Were is Ash?”

  “The troll got away. Let me buy you coffee, and I’ll tell you about it.”

  “Why would I do that?” While relieved, she didn’t trust this guy farther than she could throw him.

  “You might learn something,” he said mildly, and got into his car. “Meet me at the coffee shop across the way and we’ll talk.”