by Sariah Skye
“Warding? Come on, Mom, you used to do it all the time, right?” I said. “It’s no big deal. Magic is only as good or evil as the user, right? Isn’t that what you used to tell me?”
She sighed through her teeth. “I did say that.”
“Well?”
She paused for a minute. “Honestly,” she said, turning back around. “I don’t think I have sage after all.”
“Oh. Well that’s okay, I’m sure he can figure it out. Thanks though,” I said. I started back for my place, but she stopped me by grabbing my arm.
“Look, Avalon. I have a weird feeling about them. Please be okay, okay? Why don’t you just stay here tonight?” she suggested. “I really don’t think whoever it was will come back.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t go through your house,” I said.
“Oh,” she said, laughing. “Joey started barking at the door. I’m sure they were scared away.”
“I’m sure,” I said, rolling my eyes. That dog wouldn’t scare a dead fly, let alone a devious Collector, I was sure. But it was noise, and noise could easily scare away a skeevy robber; mystical or otherwise. “But how do you know they won’t be back? Why don’t you leave for a while?”
She considered this. “I could. But I don’t think it’s necessary. Robbers rarely strike the same place twice. I’m sure they’re long gone.”
“Right.” Except they weren’t robbers. “But still…”
“I’ll be fine, Avie,” she insisted. She patted the side of my arm. “Get back to your boys, and have fun. That’s the real reason you don’t want to stay with me, right?” She said, winking.
I scoffed. “No, that’s not it at all.” Only it was, partly. I hoped she couldn’t see me blush. I didn’t like being secretive; I’d have to tell her one day about the incubus curse, and my strange abilities. But I wasn’t ready for that today. It’d crash my mother’s world, knowing the love of her life was really some sort of demon that had cursed her for love for the rest of her life.
“Sure,” she said, shaking her head. “Well…I’ll get back to the art. Have fun.”
“I still wish you’d leave…” I said, pleading. She didn’t know the perpetrators were probably bastard supernatural hunters. Human “logic” didn’t apply to them.
She sighed, putting her hands on my shoulders. “I promise I’m fine. I can take care of myself, you know,” she said with a wink. My mother might have been a pacifist, but I knew she had a big, long rifle in her front closet, that she kept loaded at all times. And, she knew how to use it.
“I know,” I said reluctantly.
She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Be careful with those boys. I still have a funny feeling about them.”
“Okay.” I knew she could probably sense the incubus energy from him. It was probably much like my father’s, which might put her on edge. I didn’t know what else would be sending up red flags. One woman and four guys isn’t that strange, is it?
Right.
I told my mother good-bye, and went back to join the boys. I felt uneasy leaving her behind. I hoped the wards Bash would put up would be effective.
CHAPTER 22
I lingered around the house as long as I could, before the boys practically had to drag me away, kicking and screaming. I worried for my mother and for Summer—no matter what weapons they had, or what wards were up. Surely, what could go up could come down with the right amount of magic, right? It was a phone call to Summer that finally got me out the door. She didn’t answer, but she did text me.
OMG! You okay? Your mom? Yeah, I’ll stay with Chandra tonight, and take off for my mom’s for a few days.
That was it. But at least she responded. She didn’t answer the question I asked of her voicemail; “Where were you? We never could find you?”
I didn’t think too much of it, though. She probably met someone, and was too nervous to show me if it was someone she thought I wouldn’t like, or someone surprising, like a stripper. It was silly, I would never begrudge her happiness just because of someone’s career—as long as it was legal. Her family was a little bit tougher on her, though; it took them a while to accept her being gay. I think, like my fear of crowds and public speaking, that nervousness was just ingrained. So, if she needed space, I’d give her space.
I’d changed out of my liquor-soaked dress finally, opting for some leggings, a drapey lavender tank, and slip-on Skechers. Oh, and an actual bra this time, none of those boob-stickers (ever taken off a nipple-pasty before? Good lord! I finally had to rip it off like a Band-aid, and it felt like I’d been skinned alive. I screamed so loud all four boys came rushing to my door, pounding on it for entry. It was hard telling them how I just ripped my boob off, but they backed off at that point. Trystan quipped that he’d be willing to “volunteer to kiss it, and make it better.” Then he got slugged by Bash for the suggestion). I also remembered to jam some things in a backpack for use at the guys’ place. They had some delectable toiletries, but nothing like your own stuff to make you feel at home.
I was about to hop in Mathias’ Suburban when I paused, eyeing Bash’s pretty white motorcycle curiously.
He thrust the helmet to me, and winked. “Do you dare?”
I bit my lip, reluctantly taking it from him. “Just don’t go too fast.”
“You’re not going to ride that crotch rocket, are you?” Xander said, with a snicker.
“Crotch rocket?” I exchanged a grin with Bash. “Sounds like fun!” I pulled out a black hoodie from my backpack, even though the air was still balmy at nearly midnight, and put it on.
Xander shook his head, taking the backpack from me and tossing it into the vehicle. “You be careful,” he pointed sternly at Bash.
“Yes, sir.” Bash gave him a mock salute.
Xander rolled his eyes, and climbed in the truck. Trystan urged Sierra to leap up into the backseat with him.
Reluctantly, I slipped the helmet over my hair, and Bash helped me fasten it under my chin, tightening it where it needed to. “If this is going to become a thing, I’ll have to make sure I get you your own.” His voice was slightly muffled, but I got the gist. He climbed on first, straddling the machine on either side. I grabbed onto his shoulders, and hoped I didn’t look too idiotic as I slung a leg over, and slid in behind his hard body.
“You’ll have to hang on,” he instructed, turning the key, and revving up the engine. It was deafening this close, but quieted to a riotous mumble after it was or warmed up. I startled a bit against him at the noise.
“Seriously.” Bash turned and nudged me. I chuckled lightly.
“Sorry. Bit nervous,” I replied.
“S’okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His face was honest and endearing, and I knew I was in good hands.
I enveloped my arms around his waist, scooting closer to his rump. He was strong and secure in my arms.
“Let’s go!” Bash lifted the kickstand with his foot, revved the engine again, backed carefully out of the drive. With one more rev, we were off.
The speed was surprising, as was the sensation. I squealed a little, as we peeled down the street, the bike screaming loudly as we rode. Bash’s entire body slid backwards into me, and I took the opportunity to wrap myself around him even tighter before I could fall off.
The machine between our legs was powerful, and vibrated with gusto. If I could get over the terror of having nothing along either side of me, this might actually be fun. I squinted my eyes shut and rested my helmeted head along Bash’s back. We jerked, pulled forward and back, tipping sideways every time we came to a stop, and I shrieked a little each time.
“We’re about to get on the highway, I promise it’ll be less scary then!” He called back to me.
I swallowed down a lump of anxiety and took a deep breath, before we turned onto the freeway.
“You sure about this?” Bash asked me. “Mathias is just about a block away.”
I summoned up my courage. “Nope. Go.” I shakily released a han
d from his middle, and pointed at the open road ahead.
“Okay,” he said, not entirely convinced, but the second our light turned green, he gunned it and, we flew down the onramp.
“Holy shit!” I called, the wind on our bodies felt like a tornado as we zipped onto the freeway.
My heart pulsated rapidly, and my body so tense from being afraid of falling off that I thought I’d snap like a rubber band, but after a couple of miles on the reasonably desolate road, I began to relax, and enjoy the ride. I even began to smile. It did feel a bit like flying; like how I always heard it described.
I begrudgingly had to let go, when all too soon we arrived at their home. My arms had snaked underneath Bash’s leather jacket, and I gripped tightly to his taut stomach. His abs weren’t quite as toned as the others, but still no less touchable. Every time I moved my hand, his entire upper body tensed.
When the engine cut off, the silence was practically deafening. My ears rang, and I immediately noticed the absence of vibration between my legs. I fought the urge to pout; now I understood why so many people liked motorcycles. They were really giant, gasoline-powered, expensive vibrators.
Bash turned his body around, smoothing a hand through his windblown, sandy hair. He slung a leg over the seat, and adjusted himself so he faced me, still straddling the bike between his legs. His eyes were hungry as he pulled the helmet off of my head, and tossed it to the ground. I started to protest— wasn’t that expensive? —but I couldn’t say anything.
Bash had placed two hands on my cheeks, pulling my face toward him. “Dear gods, you have no idea what you do to me, Ava…”
A slow, sexy smile spread across my lips. Between Bash, the empowering freedom of the wind, and the feel of the engine under me for about forty-five minutes, my body was invigorated.
His chest heaved and fell deeply, as he pulled me to him, meeting our lips together in an intense, demanding kiss. I reciprocated with my own brand of charged heat, our mouths fighting for dominance. The spot between my legs tingled with anticipation, and I leaned back, my brain acting out a racy smut scene on the motorcycle.
“I see why you have the bike now,” I said, breaking the kiss momentarily to speak.
Bash smirked, still kissing the side of my mouth, trailing down towards my neck. My head rolled back, and I let out a low moan.
“Exactly,” he whispered, parting my lips once more with his tongue.
Bash readjusted himself on the bike, still keeping the machine upright with his powerful legs, but nudging himself closer to my center. His hand trailed lower, grazing my neck, barely touching the top of my breast, and down my stomach.
I moaned helplessly. After the dancing, the kissing, everything, it was almost too much to take. My body was primed, and ready to go, and Bash just happened to be the first willing recipient that was here, right now. I should have felt guilty—after all I kissed three men now in less than twelve hours—but I didn’t. I just didn’t. It felt right. I’d reached my limit, though, with the kissing. I hadn’t slept with a man in a long time, and I was more than ready.
I panted helplessly, arching my back, and pressing my breasts into Bash. I trailed my hand up the front of my body gently until it landed on the zipper of my shirt, and I slowly, and (hopefully) seductively pulled it down. The neckline of my top was off kilter, and one breast was more exposed than the other. Bash took in the sight; his steel-eyes ravenous. “I wonder what you would feel like in my mouth,” he breathed into my ear.
I hissed through my teeth. “Please find out.”
He grinned, eyes hooded, as he began tracing kisses and licking gently down my chest, lower, and lower. I panted with anticipating; my awaiting flesh ready to meet his eager lips.
CRASH.
Our eyes widened, and we quickly pulled apart.
“What was that?” I squeaked, closing my sweatshirt over my chest with a hand.
Bash looked around, and pointed behind me, at the front of the house. “The gutter spout fell.” I turned to see what he was talking about; sure enough, the middle of the spout had mysteriously fallen off, and onto the concrete driveway.
“That’s weird.”
“Yeah.” Bash stared at me, blushing. “Umm..yeah. I’m…sorry. I got a little carried away.” He set the bike on its kickstand, and with a hand, help me down.
“I got carried right along with you,” I replied, feeling sheepish, yet still totally hot and bothered.
“We should—yeah.” He stalked past me, opening the house, urging me in. “You should…get cleaned up. I need to check something. Make yourself at home.” The lights automatically switched on, upon us entering. “I need to…take care of something.” Fists tight at his sides, he stalked past me towards his room.
I grabbed at his shoulder, and he shrugged it off. “Bash?”
“I just need to take care of something.” His face was strained as he glanced at me one more time, eyes raking down over my body. His breath hitched. “Yeah..I’m gonna—” he pointed up the stairway and quickly dashed off.
I smirked, chuckling to myself. I had a pretty good idea just what he was going to be taking care of. But I wished he’d be taking care of “it” with me.
CHAPTER 23
I wandered to the back bedroom, feeling frustrated, and sexually confused.
A rustling sound echoed from the kitchen, and I stopped in my tracks. “Bash?” I called out, knowing that he had gone upstairs, but hoped he’d return. I glanced at the front door; I knew that the rest of the guys were probably a good ten minutes behind us, so it wasn’t any of them.
A low growl sounded out, and I pressed myself against the wall, startled. The air around me shimmered, just as Trystan’s “friendly” wolf, Nessie emerged.
I breathed out a relieved sigh. She plopped down on her rump, ears perked, head cocked to the side as she sniffed the air between us. I thought about dropping my shield, but thought the better of it. After all, this was a wolf. Without Trystan, would she be more wolf than tame pet? I didn’t know, so I concentrated on keeping the shield up, as I tiptoed gingerly down the hallway.
The front door opened then. Trystan was the first in, followed by Sierra.
He folded his hands over his biceps, chuckling at the wolf. “It’s just Ava, Nessie.”
The wolf sneezed, and dropped to a laying position, snuffling with her nose.
I let the shield drop—at least I thought I did—and pouted at Trystan. “How’d you know it was me?”
He rolled his green eyes. “The way Nessie were starin’ at ye. Couldn’t have been anyone else,” he said, with a wink. “And where are ya headed to, lass?”
I gestured down the hallway, to the back room. “Umm...setting my things in my room?”
He shook his head. “Och, no. We had a better room fixed up for you.”
My mouth fell open. “Better? Than that?”
Trystan chuckled. “Aye. We think you’ll like it, so come on.” He motioned with a quirk of his head to follow. He grabbed my hand, and pulled me up the stairs two flights, and down another hallway. “Mathias’ room is over here, and mine is on the bottom floor. But we thought, as long as you were here, this would give you more privacy.” At the end of the short hallway was another, wooden door. It creaked slightly when it opened, leading to another spiral staircase; unlike the others in the house, this was made with a shiny, dark-colored wood.
“Here ye go.” The stairs went directly into the center of a loft area, with angled ceilings and a window seat that arched outwards. The walls were made of a dark wood, with several pieces of painted art hanging about.
Besides the wood—everything was in purple.
I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand. “How…?”
“Mathias has great connections,” Trystan said, with a nudge.
It was amazing. A king size bed with tall, dark wooden spindles on each corner, and lavender fabric draped from the frame in a canopy. The bedding was a royal purple—much like my own; though this was mo
re opulent. I wandered aimlessly across the room, brushing my hand across it; it was thick, and smooth; indicating high quality (mine was still nice, but quite old, and worn). Two identical nightstands, with purple Tiffany-glass style lamps sat on either side. A tall, dark wood armoire rested against the wall on the opposite side, as well as a matching dresser, and vanity with a purple-covered sitting stool. Nearby was another matching wooden door. Trystan opened the door and motioned in.
I froze in the doorway. “No. Fucking. Way.” It was an open bathroom, with black and white tile, and purple glass tiled accents. The sink was styled like a bowl—a deep purple bowl— with a black faucet that dripped into it. The rest of the counter was a clear glass, with drawers underneath. The shower behind was closed in with a pane of glass; dark granite floor, and white titles surrounded it; complete with a little seat, and a large shower head that hung from the ceiling. Nearby, a deep, stand-alone, footed tub. I noticed it had jets too.
“Look up.” He pointed to a large skylight overhead. “It can be opened and closed whenever you want, the light is next to the door. There’s a linen closet too—” he pointed, “—full of clean towels.”
“This is…too much,” I said, awed. “How did you do all this?”
Trystan shrugged modestly. “We didn’t have to do much; just added the purple touches. The tile is new, though, and the linens. The fae Mathias hired to come in are decorator fae, and work quite fast.”
I was dumbfounded. “Decorator fae?”
He grinned. “Aye. Certain fairies are very good at beautifying things. Before they began to hide in with humanity, they used to focus on forests, growing flowers, trees, whatever. Some of them branched out, and own interior design firms now, salons…you name it.”
I shook my head, scrubbing my hands over my face. “There are fairies that decorate. Makes total sense. Do they look human?”
He nodded. “Mostly. Sometimes they have bright-colored hair, but these days so does everyone else,” he said, stroking a lock of my purple hair.