Table for Three-Hold the Blood

by Romans, Bobbi

  Table for Three

  Hold the Blood

  Bobbi Romans

  www.nobleromance.com

  Table for Three-Hold the Blood

  ISBN 978-1-60592-523-3

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Copyright 2013 Bobbi Romans

  Cover Art by Fiona Jayde

  Edited by Bonnie Walker

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any existing means without written permission from the publisher. Contact Noble Romance Publishing, LLC at PO Box 467423, Atlanta, GA 31146.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Contents

  Side of Ketchup

  Peas and Carrots

  Wienerschnitzle

  Magic Bullet: As Seen in a Dream

  Umm, Umm Frozen Foods

  Lumpy Gravy and Kidney Pie

  Soup Du Jour

  Humble Pie

  To my crew, T, Char, Jay, Nikki, Linda and Boo, and the ERA gang. Thanks for the ears and crits.

  As always a shout for my family who never gave up believing in me.

  Chapter One

  Side of Ketchup

  Branches tore into her sides, but she couldn't afford to stop with the whirring of the chainsaw so close on her heels. Why hadn't she listened? She'd been warned. Hell, she'd seen the signs of instability herself. Scalding hot tears streamed down her cheeks as her body grew cold. Her now-gone hand mysteriously throbbed as loose bits of skin slapped back and forth across jagged bone. Pressing on the bloody stump to squelch the blood flow, she bit her tongue so she wouldn't scream from the blazing agony.

  He was close.

  She had to hide! Her only option left.

  Suddenly, things went silent. She heard the saw no more. Maybe he'd given up? Her heart raged within her chest, and bile burned her throat.

  She hunkered down behind some thick brush. So damn cold, she thought, as she gingerly pulled the material of her sleeve back to look at the ground-up mass where her hand had once been. The snapping of twigs behind her, the last minute confirmation that she shouldn't have lost track of where her killer was. Not even for one precious moment.

  The saw started back up. She screamed. The metallic glint of the rolling blades came at her in the moonlight. She threw an arm up—as if that had helped before. She heard bone meeting metal, felt warmth rush her face, and she knew no more.

  * * * * *

  "Nooo!" Erron bolted upright, swiping angrily at the beads of sweat which dripped from his forehead. He grabbed his right hand and rubbed furiously as if it had gone to sleep.

  Shana threw her arms around him. She'd never seen her boyfriend suffer from such nightmares. His bloodcurdling scream awoke both her and Marklon, their partner, from deep slumber. Erron was trembling hard, and his body was covered in perspiration. Whatever nightmare he'd awakened from must have been a doozy!

  "Hey buddy, only a nightmare. No more late night burritos for you."

  Marklon's attempt at humor was lost on Erron who was still fighting to fully waken and escape whatever dark place he'd been trapped in.

  "She's dead," Erron muttered.

  His voice sounded raw and wounded. Shana's gut twisted at his words.

  "Who?" She and Marklon asked the question at the same time.

  "The girl with the spider earrings. He killed her and cut her up."

  Erron wiped the spittle from the edges of his mouth and raked a hand through his hair. He still didn't seem to have quite emerged from his state of slumber as he slowly rocked back and forth with his head between his drawn-up knees.

  Marklon shot Shana a concerned look but still took the time to reach out and run his hands lovingly through her long, dirty-blond locks in a reassuring manner.

  "Sweets, I think some coffee might help."Marklon suggested, shooting an apprehensive glance toward Erron.

  Shana paused in the doorway long enough to soak in Marklon's beauty. His Greek heritage shone strong through his dark, exotic looks. Dark hair, green eyes, deeply bronzed skin...such a polar opposite to Erron's fair hair, fair skin, and vivid ice-blue eyes. How she'd ever gotten so lucky to find not merely one drop-dead gorgeous, sweet-as-sin boyfriend, but two, she'd never understand.

  "Coming right up," she said, striving for a chipper tone to soothe her worried state.

  Marklon had nailed it. Some strong-ass coffee would bring Erron around. In all their time together, over four years total now with Erron, two with both him and Marklon, she'd never witnessed Erron this shaken up. He truly looked downright ill. And what girl did he refer to? Someone from his past or a figment created from a nightmare? They'd been together long enough that she trusted him, but hearing one's boyfriend scream out about another woman was unsettling.

  The new morning light was just starting to filter through the mocha-colored window shades as she brought the coffee into their bedroom. Breakfast was already going on the stove, and Erron finally appeared to be coming around. If nothing else, the warm morning sun had brightened his coloring, and he was sitting up. Why then did she still have a bad feeling?

  * * * * *

  Mari's shrill screams coupled with the sound of shattering dishes drew Shana's attention to the frantically scattering, gagging patrons of the restaurant where she worked.

  Fragmented sentences flew about the melee of running bodies.

  "What the fuck? What the fuck....Oh, God, tell me that isn't...."

  "Oh, my God, did you see...?"

  "Her eyes, oh heavens, her eyes!"

  The commotion wasn't coming from her seating area, but the hysteria and exploding exclamations made her inch closer. Curiosity killed the cat. She should have remembered that, but she had to see the cause for the sudden chaos.

  She wished she hadn't as she fought to comprehend the unimaginable vision she met.

  Mari, the server working the area was on her knees barfing her brains out, her arm extended as if reaching for help. Clyde, the general manager of Carnal Cravings, grabbed her outstretched hand for support, as he spoke into his cell. He stuttered and tripped over his words, trying to explain to the police the gore displayed on the table before him.

  Horror settled deep as icy flashes of Erron's descriptions came blazing back to Shana. The nightmare he'd had, this nightmare to be exact. Instead of recoiling as every instinct in her demanded, she drew closer, fighting past the revulsion as vomit tried to burn its way up her throat.

  A woman's head on a platter, dressed and stuffed as if a pig at a luau.

  Dark hair splayed out around the platter, partially covering the shreds of dangling, jagged skin where her neck had once been. Eyes hazed over in a grayish-white death stare and a Macintosh apple stuffed between thinned, blue lips. Light blood splatter still stained her bottom lip and chin.

  Shana felt like she was witnessing Erron's nightmare through someone else's mind and body. The shock and horror raked through her coarsely, and, though she wanted to turn away from the gore, she felt compelled to verify Erron's descriptions. Gripping the closest table for support, she glanced from one grisly detail to another, confirming each gory one. Eyes watering, stomach rolling, knees shaking, and hand over mouth, she leaned closer. The milky eyes, the torn skin from what appeared to be chain saw cuts, and those damn spider earrings that miraculously were still in her ears.

  She couldn't shake the look in those eyes. The fear, horror, and pa
in of the woman still reflected within their milky gaze. Who was she? Who'd taken this woman's life with such blatant disregard for humanity? Was the lunatic still here, in this very room, watching as everyone shook with revulsion, fear, and sadness? Their small tourist community of Crow Manor, Maine wasn't ready for the likes of the monster that had just reared its ugly face.

  At the sound of sobbing, Shana turned to Mari. The waitress needed a hell of a lot more than Clyde's hand, and the police would no doubt be sequestering each one of them for long rounds of questioning. With a bloody long night ahead, pun intended, they would need liquor. She headed over to the bar to get the shot glasses and whiskey ready.

  Man, the guys would freak the fuck out when she told them about this.

  * * * * *

  Nothing else on earth ever feels this heavenly, Shana thought while curled up on the buttery-soft suede sofa, head on Marklon's lap, feet on Erron's as he rubbed deep into the soles of her achy feet.

  Oh, yeah, this was perfect. Well, it would be if someone could erase the morbid image of that poor woman's head from her memory.

  "So, you're sure the details matched my dream?" Erron asked.

  As he massaged her feet, he thumbed the arch with such heavenly strokes, she nearly drifted off. Again, the bloody image of the mangled head swam into her mind. Hard as she tried, she couldn't block it.

  "Yes, positive, down to the very earrings you described. What the fuck is going on?"

  "I think we're jumping the gun here. Just because Erron dreamt something similar doesn't necessarily mean he had some sort of...."

  "Some sort of what? How do you explain the earrings? I might have blown it off, too, if not for them." She sighed, exasperated by her failure to get her point about the similarities across to ever level-headed Marklon.

  She was always stunned that her second lover/boyfriend could be so damn open-minded as to be in a happy threesome relationship yet question the validity of anything and everything.

  When the piece of shit runabout she and Erron drove broke down in the wee hours after some club hopping, Marklon had been the one who stumbled upon them first and offered to help. A ride home had turned into so much more.

  Not immediately. At first, he'd merely been a friend to both of them. Marklon had been new in town, and they'd taken him under their wings, showed him around, and introduced him to the rest of their friends.

  Hell, they'd even set him up on a few blind dates—which, thankfully, had all ended horribly.

  Everything changed when Erron become gravely ill. Marklon insisted on moving in to help care for him. A registered nurse by trade, he'd surmised Shana would be in over her head as Erron's caregiver. Nothing like a good bout of cancer to pull people together. Thankfully, Erron's skin cancer had been caught quickly, but a bond formed, linking them together. It would link them forever if she had any say about it.

  The background squawking of reporters on the local news stopped, and light sounds of jazz filled the room.

  She'd never felt Erron stop the foot massage. Of course, thoughts of bloody heads on platters had a way of making one's mind wander.

  "I think we need to put our girl to bed," Erron stated, his voice laced with concern.

  "Past time. She's had a rough day." Marklon scooped her up carefully in his arms.

  "Maybe, uh, something to take her mind off things?" Erron hinted.

  Marklon nodded in silent agreement.

  "Umm." She sighed, too content for the moment to comment as her eyes drifted closed.

  "She always does like being carried, eh, Erron?"

  "Tease all you want, but there's something girly about it," Shana muttered.

  Even as he-man as they were, she knew lifting her five-foot ten body couldn't be an easy feat. Still the act always left her feeling so dainty—which simply wasn't a word normally used to accompany someone of her stature.

  Silken sheets slid up against the backs of her legs until she was lying fully across their cooling comfort. One thing they all agreed upon was sleeping nude on them as often as possible. A simple something, which always seemed so luxurious and a tad naughty.

  Tugged upwards, she raised her arms above her head as the knuckles from one of the guys hands brushed her sides as they lifted her shirt off. Expert fingers had her bra off with one swipe of the hook. A gentle push placed her on her back again before another set of hands worked her black work pants down her long legs.

  One warm, hard male body slid behind her as another sidled up her front. Multiple hands began kneading, squeezing and caressing tired stressed muscles, as well as other not so tired bits.

  No longer sleepy, her mouth opened when lips pressed against hers coaxing them open. Firm yet soft, urging, taking, plundering the moist depths of her mouth. Her body zipped to life at the erotic promises, pulling her to full alertness. Her sighs and moans drowned in male mouths. She'd lost track of who was on which side of her as the three of them became nothing more than a tangle of lust, limbs, and flesh. Her nipples beaded to strong suckles as her ready core was breached by thick, strong fingers.

  "Ohh, yes, more."

  She whimpered, her mind needing relief from what she had seen that day.

  "And here I was worried you weren't up for this tonight." Marklon rumbled against her breast.

  His words caught in his throat as a second finger entered her. She knew if Marklon was fingering her core, then—

  "Ahh!"

  The digit breaching her ass must belong to Erron.

  Tag teaming her were they? Well, she'd show them a little teaming of her own. Reaching forward, she found one heavy cock and, with a firm grasp, stroked the silken steel, ending with a slight twisting at the broad head. She felt Marklon buck into her grasp. His hiss told her he was close.

  Now, for Erron. She wickedly reached behind to find his long length prodding her rear entrance.

  Oh, no, he wouldn't. Not yet.

  She wrapped her fingers around Erron's steel and stroked with both hands in rhythm. Both men leaned and thrust into each loving caress, small grunts escaping as each seemed to be turning feral with each purposeful touch.

  "Weren't you ever taught to not pull a tiger by his—"

  "Cock?" She blurted before Erron finished.

  "Cheeky wench, isn't she, Marklon?"

  "That she is. Maybe a lesson about who's in charge is necessary? Whaddya think?"

  Whack.

  The sharp sting only edged her closer into the euphoric zone she craved. She was sure Marklon, even at the odd angle from which he had struck her, had left a cherry red handprint on her ass.

  "Well, that brought new meaning to cheeky," Erron quipped.

  "Too much talk." She panted.

  "Ahh, sharing our pain now, are you?" Marklon whispered on a hiss of breath.

  The warmth of Marklon's body left her, and she heard him digging in the nightstand drawer for the condoms. She was on the pill, and, to her knowledge, they were all exclusive, but a pregnancy right now would complicate things. As if a three-some wasn't complicated enough.

  Erron edged under her, pulling her on top of him. His erection pressed urgently between the globes of her ass. Marklon hovered above her and struggled to get the condom on.

  "Need help?" Reaching out she took the rubber from his shaking hands and aided in sheathing him.

  Before she caught her next breath, Marklon hoisted her right leg over his shoulder, and, in the next second, she felt the stretch as his hard width entered. Rough and fast, exactly what she craved right now. The serious glint in his eye told her all teasing and talk was over for now. Erron maneuvered her upwards just enough he was able to slide his lubed cock into her rear. Her guys knew her well enough to know when she needed a moment to adjust. Well, rather when her body did. Knowing and seeing the men she loved hovering on the edge while in her and around her, well,
that in itself put her on the cusp. But, still, having two large cocks coming at her took some getting used to.

  "Ready, love?" Marklon whispered, his voice husky.

  If the set to his jaw was any indication, his control was slipping fast.

  She could only nod. Breathing became quite the challenge as the two men simultaneously began pistoning in and out. Her vaginal walls gripped and clung to the large member breaching them.

  Erron held her ass cheeks in a deathly grip, trying to keep her in place for a better cock-hold.

  She'd have a few bruises tomorrow, but damned if each one wouldn't be welcomed.

  Marklon's dark hair swung down hiding most of his beautiful face, but when he lifted his head she caught his expression. Olive-toned skin and those striking green eyes caused her heart to flutter. The intent look and locked jaw told her he was moments from release. She hadn't been the only one needing this recharge of sorts.

  Erron caught her gaze and drew it to his. Though awkwardly angled, she was able to twist her head enough to take in his fair coloring and pale blue eyes. He presented such a stark contrast to Marklon, yet somehow their differences complemented each other in ways going well beyond the bedroom.

  The sudden growth in their erections proved both were mere seconds from ejaculating. She too found herself ready to plunge over the edge.

  Rapid, baritone grunts followed by erratic thrusting sent her spiraling. Every cell in her body zinged and tingled—her nipples tightened to almost painful buds, and Marklon's added clit play shot her over into a supernova of emotions and sensations.

  Later, when their breathing grew more controlled and the guys left to dispose of their condoms, she couldn't help but thank her lucky stars for the studs she'd fallen so heavily for.

  * * * * *

  "More coffee?" She held out the hot carafe.

  "Nah, don't have time. I'm already running late considering the new chef has gone AWOL. With the grand opening of the Grey Goose so close I really should have been there hours ago."

  Erron had dreamed of owning his own place for as long as she'd known him and had talked about it quite extensively. Early mornings and late nights had become a norm for him, and Shana worried the hard work would soon take its toll. If it hadn't already.