by A. R. Case
Luckily, I was a brother. There was a bike and job waiting on the outside. When I didn’t like that one, I made inquiries, and they me got another. That’s how it is for family. Especially family who gave up twenty for family.
Didn’t mean it all couldn’t happen again. Hence, jewelry, lined belts, custom saddle-bags, and networks of contacts and businesses in this country and beyond. I was set for most anything, except making roots.
That’s why, when I handed Edie the Aquaphor, I took the chair instead of the couch.
“You need to wash that off more?” I asked.
“I’ll get it in the shower. Fin said no hot water, which kind of sucks.”
“It’s just going to hurt if it’s too hot.”
She was futzing with it, and dabbing the lotion onto her skin. When her hand finally rested, I saw the design. It was stitches, needle, thread, a scene where the skin was being sewn together. Some flowers. Weird choice. The stitches looked almost real. Not doctor stitches, mind you, more like embroidery, but the skin, red and raw as it was, looked raised, 3D. I moved closer.
That’s when I saw it wasn’t Fin’s expertise that made it look 3D. Her shoulder and upper arm were a patchwork of old scars. “What the fuck happened there?”
“Car accident.” She dabbed more lotion on a corner of the artwork.
Between two of the longer scars that formed a vee, it looked like skin had been ripped back, and exposed the inside. Fin had the beginnings of a scene inked in. It was just black outlines so far, but I could tell it would be a peek inside to a fantasy-land of flowers. “Pretty.”
She looked up. “No one has ever said that about them before. And FYI, they’re not pretty. Not how they happened, not how …” Edie trailed off. Then, she cleared her throat. “My ex wrapped our car around a tree. His airbag went off, mine didn’t, or was shredded by the windshield or tree limbs. Didn’t matter.” She made a half-dismissive gesture.
“Let me guess, he didn’t have a scratch on him.”
“Bingo.”
There was more. I could tell by her silence. It hung in what wasn’t said. That pain and anger she’d carried into the bar before she could hide it, it was there. Right under her skin where those flowers should be.
She looked me in the eye. “It was twelve years ago. My daughter, Tinny was four. She’d be doing prom this year if. Well. If.”
It knocked the breath out of me.
Poor Edie had faced the worst, and was still facing it. Like only a mom could. Determined, strong, and forever hurt. I moved in, kneeling on the floor between her legs and holding her eyes. “Fierce.”
She softened. Damn, she should have had the chance to make kick-ass dresses for her kid. It was all there. Her hand went up and fiddled with my too-long hair. “Sweet.”
I shook my head. “Uh-unh.”
Another smile. She was slaying me, and didn’t know it. “I’m not fierce.”
Bullshit. But, I let her have that delusion. “This place is shit. How about I take you home, and get someone to bring your car from the bar. That way you don’t have to drive in the dark.”
“Truck.”
“Okay, truck.” Hadn’t figured that, but then again, I hadn’t figured pretty Edie ever had any pain, let alone the kind that made lesser mortals give up. So, I paid homage to that by straightening up on my knees and kissing her. It was sweet, like she’d described me, but that was all her.
Edie
For the second time on this magical night, I was on the back of a bike. Iron. And leather, soft leather, that wrapped around you like a second skin. Yet, all I wanted was more of my dark fae.
He’d called me fierce. And his eyes were blue. You couldn’t see it until the overhead lights in his apartment crept under the crag of his brows, and the beautiful, clear blue peeked out. Exactly how a fae king should be, with black and silver hair, blue eyes, and a sugary voice.
There was a streak of silver running through his hair. It started just to the left of his widow’s peak, and streamed down the side of his face. Something bad had touched him and made its mark. My heart hurt for him. In the apartment I sorted out as much as I could to keep it from infecting the beautiful darkness of the rest of his hair. Maybe later I could get his hair loose and finish the job.
The headsets made it easy for me to give him directions to my place. When I rented it from Fin and Betty Jo five years ago, the most that could be said for it was that it was clean. It was tiny and cheap. It was also perfectly tucked against a fingerlet of state forest that grew tall and dark. After the first year, I’d painted the entire inside, and gutted one of the walls to open it up to create a more open workspace. Year two, I talked Fin into changing the windows to let in more light. I paid half, since it was my idea. Year three, the wood stove was retired, and a newer, cleaner furnace put in. I never paid for that repair, but I kept Fin supplied with orders for armor and swords year-round, which I guess was a fair trade. Year four, the three-season porch was added around the one door to the place. It made it more energy efficient, and created a nice spot to lounge when I took a break.
This year had been too busy to think, let alone dream about any home improvements. I was considering hiring someone on to help me with the cosplay and Renaissance costumes I sold. So, in the past-midnight sorcery of the night, my house looked dark, tiny, and old. Indy hesitated before turning off the bike.
“How long you been living out here by yourself?”
“Five years.” Four years and seven months, but five was getting closer.
“Does Fin check on you?”
“No more than a landlord should.”
He scowled. “He knows better than that.”
I could hear the low growl of his inner animal coming out. I hurried to calm him. “No one bad has my address. Well …” I trailed off for effect, “Except you now.” My giggle stuttered to a stop because Indy didn’t find it amusing.
“Vega mentioned once you sell online. You don’t let them mail you returns, do you?”
“I have a post box in town.”
He grunted in that frustrating way males do. “Walking you in, and making sure it’s safe.”
That was fine by me. He could stay forever if he wanted. Yes, I was that far gone.
Indy
For Fin, this would be a great cabin getaway. Heck, I’d rent the place to get back to nature, but for Edie? All wrong. Too far from the main road, dark, no neighbors to hear her scream. Dammit. She’d led me back here and what? If I was that kind of killer, her body would be easy to dump. Fuck. I bet no one checked back here, ever. I wouldn’t even have to dump the body.
And she’d brought me here with absolutely no questions. It was really pissing me off.
At least she locked her door. But it was inside a three-season porch which secluded it from view. A criminal could stand there for hours working the lock, and not be seen. That was if anyone happened up the driveway, which they wouldn’t, so I guess it was one of those moot points.
She made some excuse about her work, and a mess, as she twisted open the deadbolt. The main knob gave her some trouble, or maybe it was nerves. Good, she should be scared bringing a guy like me back to her secluded little house.
Then she did something with a box, not the light switch. A million, little lights glittered on in the porch, and in the main room of the house. It wasn’t a big building, but the entire place was pretty much open. I could see the kitchen from the door, and everything else, except what was behind a couple of doors off to the right and back.
There was a disabled wood stove in one corner, and stuff everywhere. Not hoarder stuff, art. Art and costumes in progress, a workbench with no fewer than four pairs of shoes in various stages of production, plaster of Paris by the fifteen-pound bag, feathers, organized but still taking up lots of space, painted masks on one wall, an airbrush station, and even an easel. It was all there at her fingertips whenever she needed it. Touches of Edie in her shoe designs, paintings of fairies, and in leaves stencil
ed on every door frame. Which, on closer inspection, weren’t stencils, but individually-painted, unique leaves. Strings of white Christmas lights were twisted into branches that seemed to grow out of the walls.
It was, in short, her lair.
Two, black portfolio cases were on one corner of the closest workbench.
“I’m thirsty, you need anything?” She was in the kitchen.
“Beer’s fine if you have it.” I picked up one of the heavy binders. Inside this one was costume design. The Medieval crap that Fin had so much fun building. He made bank every fall at the regional Renaissance Festival, and did custom work for people who ordered it. But the designs? All Edie. I recognized one of his latest builds in the front.
“The other one is for the girls. You might recognize some of the costumes.” She walked up close.
I accepted the beer, set the armor book down, and opened the other folder. This one, I left on the table, so I could sip my drink. Yeah, this one was more my speed. Page after page of pasties and thongs and strapped boots. Drawn in detail was leather and satin and sequins and lace. Also, plenty of boobs and ass. I’ll admit, watching the girls, I was more interested in fine tuning their performance, but looking at this? I was getting hard. And I knew the costumes, or most of them. Edie had been designing for a few years now, and most of the dancers bought something from her.
“That one’s Vega’s headliner piece.”
“Yup, and this one Cherri picked up last week.” she pointed.
Ah yeah, the red, white, and blue election outfit. More cheers for that one than a national convention acceptance speech. I couldn’t help but smile. We’d worked on her routine for four weeks, and she nailed it. The outfit, with little, gold, flag tassels that spun just right near the finale, was perfect. More than one soldier saluted that night.
“I haven’t seen this one.” I pointed to one of Cherri’s, and you could tell it was her by the way Edie had drawn her, “It doesn’t look flashy enough for the stage.”
She giggled. It was cute. “That one is for Walt. Not sure you should be seeing that.”
“I’ll be certain to tell him that I think his Mary-Cherri looks awful good in purple satin.”
“Oh! you’re terrible!” She half-swatted me on my arm. It wasn’t nearly hard enough to think about hurting. She rubbed it better, nevertheless.
It was past time for me to leave when she changed the touch to a caress. Sticking around longer wasn’t an option. Surrounding me was page after page of women I knew and loved, and the scent of Edie which was so sweet. Another sip of beer, and the strands of Christmas lights faded into the background. Her eyes picked up enough sparkle on their own, but in the magic she surrounded herself with, her eyes snared me.
She was soft against me. I set the beer down, and slipped my hand around her. She must have slipped off her shoes, because she was barely up to my shoulder now. It made stroking down her curves the right distance of warm and smooth, then dip and flare. Then there was round and more heat.
Fuck, her kisses were soft.
And I was an ass, an idiot, and ten kinds of a fool, because I knew what I was being given. I should not have taken it.
Edie
He was going to leave. I knew it. I also knew that at two-thirty a.m. I wasn’t making good choices. No one wants to be alone at three a.m. I know that horrible hour. It was when I woke, alone, heart aching, and holding a damp pillow just about the size Tinny was when she died. No way was I going to let him leave.
I pulled him from his half-lean to standing. He was so much taller than I was, but it felt really good. Even better, was the way he walked forward as I pulled backwards into my bedroom. It was pure male grace. It was the same kind of powerful balance he’d had on the dance floor at Dick’s. Dancers were illusion in motion. You could watch them, and envision sex. It wasn’t their bodies, as much as it was the thought of your most amazing fantasy in human form.
Which was another reason I was pulling Indy into my bedroom. He was the male version of Vega and Cherri. You could watch him fully clothed and get turned on. Just the way his hips stalked as he placed one foot in front of another was sexy.
His kisses? Even better. It was everything a dark fae should be. Soft, dangerous, hinting at much more, and a nip here and there to remind you that you’re embracing a predator. It made me want to bare my throat, and just succumb to his power, but first, we needed to get further into my room.
My shirt was off one arm. Indy’s vest was on the doorknob. I’d gotten his belt unbuckled by the time my thighs tapped my bed. It halted the movement, and Indy noticed where he was. I’m certain he knew I’d been taking him here, but he wasn’t as good as a multi-tasker.
He looked around. I’d been a little less heavy-handed with the twinkle lights in here. It had been a whim to bring the stars inside at night. I’d had a dream about a bedroom with sheer fabric walls and stars beyond as the light source. It was half done, because there was only one wall I could sacrifice for it in this space. Everything else needed functionality. Wall one, the door and a dresser, wall two, a closet. Wall three, the two tiny windows that let air circulate on hot summer days, and that left wall four, where my headboard was hidden behind a tiny facsimile of the dream.
I’d started doing the same outside the bedroom. But that became fireflies in a forest of ivy and oak. So, the dream changed a bit, faded, and became more akin to a decoration, rather than a theme.
His eyes made it back to my navy blue, lace bra which triggered a smile.
“We doing this?” He glanced at the bed.
I nodded, trying not to break the spell.
He reached behind to pull out his wallet, and tossed a condom onto one of my pillows. Then he replaced the wallet, and finished taking off his belt. I watched in fascination as he slipped it through the loops. He held it for a moment, half folded, quirking an eyebrow up with his smirk. “Too soon for that I bet.” he laughed and dropped it to the floor with a jangling thunk.
I stroked his chest. He was lean, and defined from years of dance, or other exercise. There wasn’t a beer gut, or the over muscled look of a gym enthusiast.
He had gray hair there too. It matched the streak near his temple. I traced my hand up to it and smoothed it. Indy caught my hand and kissed the palm.
“Edie, you’re killing me.” he spoke it into my skin, but didn’t stop. He nibbled down my wrist. This sent shivers down my spine.
“More.”
A devilish glint winked from his eyes. “As you wish.”
I laughed with sheer joy as he tossed me to the bed. It stopped, cut short by the absolute predator who was crawling over me. My fingers dug into his cheek just enough to show him I had some of that in me, too. It was a yes, please, oh please, do your worst, and make me feel oh so good.
He reciprocated in kind, stripping me of my half-on shirt, and biting the skin made bare there. I arched upwards, drawn into the pleasure. He slipped one hand under me. It made me captive, pulling me toward a sweet demise.
The other hand touched each point his teeth had marked. He glanced at the bra.
“You make this?”
I was breathing heavy, so my voice didn’t sound right. “Yes, I started designing bras when Cherri needed a costume that wouldn’t snag or chafe for her pole dance routine.”
He touched the lace that I’d sewn into the base. It was the same technique I used for the dancers’ outfits so it would stretch and not bind. “Pretty.” His eyes caught mine. “You do realize you’re taking some of the mystique out of my job, right?”
“Poor man.”
A growl confirmed we were done talking, and getting back to things. Luckily for me, Indy pays attention to his dancers’ shows, and understood how I hid the closures on the sides rather than back. He undid one side, then made me lift my arm out of the way so he could use his teeth on the other side. It took him a bit, and I was tempted to help him out.
It came undone, and he smiled like he’d won a prize. “Always
wanted to do that.” He sobered quickly. “Don’t tell the girls that. Christ!”
His eyes went somewhere far away, then returned. “You’re trouble.”
“Capital T. Rhymes with P and that stands for…”
“Pretty.”
Oh, he was quick. No wonder the girls breathed his name like a talisman. His comment about the bra confirmed what they all said about him. He was their anchor, their muse, their protector, and promoter. He made certain they challenged themselves to dance greater than before, dream larger than they thought they could, and he kept them safe while all the magic happened. There was also rumor that he was the one man they couldn’t crack.
And I, Eileen Darina Krupp, called Edie by my family since before I can remember, was cracking him.
When more clothes came off, and he fell apart in my arms, I made certain to catch all of the pieces, and hold them safe.
Chapter 3: Soft
Indy
In prison, you best not show weakness. I snuck fiction books back to my cell between business textbooks. They had to be thin. One of them, a Hemingway, had a scene I must have read a hundred times, because of the sex. But, I hadn’t really understood it, until a few hours ago. He wrote of the world falling away. It had been so long since I really let myself go, the world really did fall away. For the first time in probably three decades, I fell asleep without thinking of anything except soft tits, and a whole lot of satisfaction filling me up inside.
Which was why I was so confused when I woke up on those same soft tits, now coated with drool, and in a strange place.
Those fairy lights were still on. I could see nothing in my range of vision that looked threatening. Heck, the whole room was so non-threatening it looked like being in a cloud at night. I traced the lines of fabric over the bed, nothing hiding up there, except maybe a few spiders. The closet was open, and it exposed numerous clothes, mostly custom costumes. There was an entire section for shoes. Not a single pair of them had a twin in the outside world. I wanted to laugh. Yeah, this was Edie’s den for certain.