by Lissa Kasey
I smiled. “I have so much to teach you.”
“Oh my God, stop. We’ve barely left home. I think pulling over on the side of the road to rub off is likely to get us arrested.”
“Focus on your crochet,” I reminded him of the project in his lap instead of his hard-on. “I can’t wait to see what it’s like when you’re done.” He had chosen a variegated green and teal yarn with silver accents to it. So far, the color change in the body was really looking like scales.
Alex took a couple shaky breaths then went back to work on the dragon. I turned up the radio and focused on the drive and the subtle calm of the road. We both sang along to the radio. Alex had a great voice, untrained, but pleasant. He didn’t know all the Top 40 songs like I did, mostly because he’d been out of the world so long, first in the military, and then from being taken.
Taken. Fuck I hated that thought. I pushed it aside and tried to focus on the road.
“What sort of haunting does the B&B have?” Alex inquired as he stitched the little tubes that would make up the dragon’s feet. We had been on the road an hour or so.
“Former owner sort of thing. I think everything in Texas is haunted. I read somewhere that it has the most haunted roads of the entire nation.”
Alex put the crochet down and turned to look at me. “How does a road get haunted?”
“Same way anything else does, I suspect.” Though a lot of the stories didn’t actually feature ghosts, more creatures lurking on the side of the road. “People die or go missing.”
Now Alex was less than happy.
“You did know car accidents kill a lot of people?” I asked him.
“Yes,” Alex agreed. “Do you want me to drive?”
“No.” Alex’s PTSD could trigger him and render him completely incoherent. As far as I knew, he was not allowed to drive, though Lukas had said something about Alex being able to test to get his license back. In New Orleans, he didn’t need to drive. In Houston, I’d be doing all the driving. Which reminded me, “You’ve been sleeping okay?”
“Yes,” Alex said, focused back on his dragon. Whether he heard the noise at night or not, he didn’t let on. I’d been keeping him busy enough during the day that when we got into bed at night, after a round of sex, we both slept hard.
“You’ll let me know if something bothers you, right?” I knew his triggers. Sometimes changing location could send him into an episode. Lukas had given me a dozen things to avoid before I’d ever met Alex. Most of those things were not on my daily schedule. No war zones or guns pointed our way. Though Houston, being a big city full of gun crazed Americans, meant we might encounter some of Alex’s triggers. I knew gunfire and fireworks could set off a lot of soldiers, and hoped that staying far enough outside the city would minimize that.
“Sure,” Alex said absently. “I’ve been okay though. Haven’t had an episode since the cemetery.” That event had been caused by a shadow figure attacking us and a fellow tour guide being murdered.
“If your anxiety kicks in, tell me, okay? The convention will be pretty packed.”
“Can you promise the same?” Alex threw back. He was not as oblivious to my anxiety as everyone else seemed to be. Or perhaps everyone else noticed and didn’t care.
“Yes,” I vowed. “I can do that.”
“Good.” Alex threw me a smile, then put his crochet work away to pull out his new phone. “I’m going to research Texas ghosts.”
“Stories of the skunk ape, aka Bigfoot, are more common,” I told him.
Alex slowly panned to me. “Say what?”
“You know, Bigfoot. Sasquatch? Lots of stories of ape like creatures in the USA. Even in Texas. Louisiana is known for them too, in the bayou.”
“Skunk ape…” Alex muttered.
“Supposed to smell like a skunk.”
“Now I’m going to be looking for giant apes every time I smell a skunk.”
I reached out and patted his knee. It was unlikely we’d encounter a Bigfoot, or whatever the stories came from. Though knowing our luck and Alex’s paranormal magnetism, maybe we’d see something. “We’ll be fine. You’re an ex-Army Ranger.”
“Which does shit all against ghosts and random forest apes.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at his indignant tone. He joined in, shaking his head, and insisting on continuing his research.
Chapter 4
The sun was beginning to set as we pulled down the last road, which was more of a gravel path, toward the B&B. Alex had dozed in the car after our last break in which I insisted on feeding him again, but now he was wide awake and looking warily at the rush of trees surrounding us.
“Not in the forest?” He prodded as we pulled up to the house which looked like an old Southern mansion with a giant wraparound porch. It wasn’t quite as big as a lot of the plantations in Louisiana, but had the same vibe with a tree-lined drive, the house white and pristine amidst the greenery.
“Nope,” I said pulling into the small lot in front of the house. The lot was little more than dirt and gravel, but there was plenty of room for the SUV to park or even turn around if necessary. “It’s not like it’s hidden in the woods,” I pointed out. The area surrounding the house was a wide wash of green grass for probably a couple dozen meters before the wall of trees met the edge of the lawn. We were less than ten minutes from a small grocery store, which we’d already stopped at to refill the cooler, and gas station. And not twenty minutes from a Walmart. “This is not the middle of nowhere.”
Alex was quiet, tension tightening his shoulders as we got out. I reached for his hand, and he took mine, squeezing it, his palm a little sweaty.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promised him.
The door to the main house opened and out came the goddess herself. Freya was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, simple enough, though her blonde hair pulled up on the crown of her head looked a bit like some elaborate anime design with multiple ponytails and strategic curls. Her smile was wide as she tromped across the space to greet us, arms open for a hug.
I accepted her embrace, thankful for the warmth of having a mentor and friend like her. “Hey, Freya,” I said, squeezing her for a moment before pulling away to introduce Alex. “This is Alex.”
Freya offered her hand to him. “Nice to meet you, Alex,” she said. “Micah said you used to cosplay.”
Freya actually knew a lot more about Alex than that, as I’d filled her in on the past month’s adventures. She collected knowledge about everything, crafts, TV and book genres, and people. I knew she would be careful with Alex, not only what I’d told her, but his PTSD. She had even kyboshed a few cosplay norms for this group adventure. There would be no weapon making tutorials and combat related costumes were off limits. If the group had protested, I had been spared their irritation at the last-minute change. But I’d rather have Alex calm and happy than anxious and lost in some memory.
“Yes, ma’am,” Alex said taking her hand and shaking it. “Nothing as amazing as Micah does, but I did enjoy it. He’s sort of a wizard when it comes to crafting. Can do anything.”
“That is the way of things in cosplay,” Freya agreed. “It’s a bit of an eclectic hobby. Not all sewing, sometimes it’s working with EVA foam or even clay, painting, or beading. Micah’s skill is vision. He can recreate a costume from scratch, no pattern necessary, or even take a simple pattern and reconstruct something completely different and phenomenal.”
While the praise was nice, it made me uncomfortable. “Thanks,” I said.
She smiled warmly at me, and I noticed for the first time the tiny display of crow’s feet on the edge of her warm eyes. It was a quick reminder that Freya was close to fifty, and while she was gorgeous, she still got a lot of pushback from new influencers trying to steal her thunder. I’d heard her called ‘old school’ enough to cringe myself every time someone said it.
“I’m nothing compared to your skill,” I assured her. “I wouldn’t even know where to start if you hadn’t helped me
out.”
Freya reached out to squeeze my arm, but still spoke to Alex. “I’m thrilled Micah is looking to return to the hobby. Losing his talent to other pursuits was a tragedy for the community.”
I scoffed. “Seeing me in tight hot pants is not going to save the world.”
“No,” Freya agreed. “But it gives many a few minutes of escape.”
“I’m on board with that,” Alex said. “Tight hot pants, I mean. Have you seen his ass? It’s divine. The way it fits in my hands…” Alex’s eyes widened as if he just realized what he said. “Shit… filter broken. Sorry, TMI.” He looked at me. “I don’t know if they know? Are supposed to know? Fuck, I’m messing this up by getting lost in the thought of cupping your ass and kissing…” He clapped his hands over his mouth.
Heat rushed into my cheeks. Odd since I wasn’t used to being embarrassed by compliments. Though the way Alex talked about me, looked at me, often made me wonder if he saw something no one else did. He was an all-in sort of guy, jumping in feet first, and had taken the idea of being with me to full woke levels. Him not being shy about his interest in me was both startling, and refreshing.
“Stop,” I grumbled at both of them, but took one of Alex’s hands firmly in mine and squeezed it. “Freya knows. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. We’re sleeping together. We are a thing.”
“More than a spark,” Alex proclaimed like some sort of strutting cock wandering a yard of excited hens.
“Yes,” I agreed. And I hoped it stayed that way.
Alex leaned over to kiss me on the cheek, his beard tickling my face. I reached up to stroke along his jaw, loving the softness of the texture of his trimmed beard. He spent time on it because he knew I liked it. Had in fact adopted an entire routine that helped his hair and skin. Sometimes I caught him running his hands through his hair, or over his beard, marveling how they could feel so decadent. And decadent was the word Alex used when I’d asked him about it, like a fine wine or dessert. I’d told him he could be my dessert. Which made him blush.
“You’re adorable. Both of you.”
“Is it dinner time yet?” I smelled something amazing, and hoped it was dinner. “Alex needs to eat.”
“Almost,” Freya said. “Let me help you guys get your stuff to the cabin and by then it should be done. After dinner I’ll give you a quick reminder tour of the house, then you guys can get some rest for the night. I’m sure you’re tired from the drive.”
Unloading the car became a group effort when Chad appeared, grinning beside us with MaryAnn at his heels. Chad was a bear of a guy, built more like a linebacker, square-jawed, hair buzzed short. His hair had a touch of red-gold fire to it, and his eyes were large and brown. MaryAnn had long dark hair, and more curves than the media thought girls should have. While MaryAnn was pretty, she wasn’t—at least without intense makeup—the sort of stop traffic beauty that everyone seemed to prefer these days. But she was a chameleon, able to transform herself into things with a bit of makeup and costume, that seemed scientifically impossible. She knew how to work a costume to best suit her body and features, and had done more than her fair share of sexy cosplay. I’d known them both for a handful of years.
“Hey guys,” I greeted them. “Good to see you.” I introduced them both to Alex as everyone grabbed something out of the car and then we all followed the little stone walkway around the house and to the cabins.
They weren’t true cabins in the form of traditional thinking. They ran more along the line of tiny houses, complete with solar panels. Instead of expanding the house and changing the charming old country layout, Freya had chosen to add the grouping of tiny houses behind the space, offering more privacy as well as more rooms. It had been my first inkling that a smaller place would work for me, and had helped fuel the ideas that went into designing my own space.
“You guys are on the end. The middle one is still a photography studio. I have the key if you want to do a shoot in there,” Freya said as she walked us to our door, unlocked it, and handed me the key. “Breakfast is at eight, dinner at seven.”
Having used this cabin before, the layout was familiar, though with Alex in the space it would be a little tight. The group left our stuff on the tiny porch outside the house, giving Alex and I a chance to set up our stuff.
“Dinner is in twenty minutes,” Freya told us, and left us to get settled.
Alex stepped inside, looking around. “Okay, I thought your place was small.”
The cabin was around 200 square feet with a loft overhead. The main part of the cabin was one room, starting with the living area, which had a small couch that could be converted into a bed, and tables that folded up or down off the walls. The kitchen in galley style ran the rest of the length until the small bathroom. A narrow set of stairs arched up the side to the loft, which had a queen-sized bed, and windows surrounding it, but not enough room to stand up.
“My place is around 400 square feet, not counting the loft,” I said. “More than double the size of this.”
“This brings new meaning to tiny home,” Alex said as he set his bag down in one of the cubes that made up the stairs. He walked from the front to the tiny bathroom, then back and carefully up the stairs. “At least your stairs have a railing. Where should we put all our stuff?”
My stuff, since all he had was his little bag. I turned and opened a few of the doors beside the kitchen. There wasn’t much storage, but what there was worked fine for most crafters on temporary holiday. I put the small fold-out kitchen table up, and set both of my machines on it, then hung the garment bags in the closet near the bathroom and left my rolling suitcase tucked neatly off to the side. The cooler was more complicated. It took a few minutes of unloading to get everything in the tiny fridge or the two tight cupboards. We had to take the empty cooler back to the car as there just wasn’t enough room to fit it in the house.
“Still good?” I asked Alex as we headed toward the house, hand in hand.
“Yep,” he agreed. “Not thrilled about the windows beside the bed,” he said after a few minutes when we got to the porch of the main house. The big loft area had enough space to sit up, but the mattress stretched edge to edge of the space with windows on two sides to help the space feel a little less claustrophobic.
“We’ll shut the curtains,” I promised. We were both used to being more enclosed, mostly, I think, to get away from the sounds that scared us. “The breeze is nice this time of year. The house has air conditioning,” and a ceiling fan that helped circulate the air in the small place. “But the temperature is nice enough that we shouldn’t need it. Overnight and early morning should be in the fifties.” I’d packed Alex’s quilt for exactly that reason.
“I searched for ghost pictures online of this place and came up with nothing,” Alex said, sounding relieved. “No stories online either. Nothing on the website or official that I could find.”
“Some people use the stories as a way to attract customers,” I reminded him. Though since Freya didn’t advertise her place that way, I figured whatever happened on site was either mild, or didn’t bother her. “Our cabin is new. Less than five years old. Nothing in there but us.”
Alex grunted, obviously not convinced. I squeezed his hand and opened the main door to let us inside. The interior of the house, like the outside, had a lot of the same old-world type charm. The entry opened to a giant stairway, which had a railed landing above. There were curved doorways on two sides and a double door on the end, which was open to the giant kitchen. The door on the right led to what used to be a sitting room and den, but had been opened up and combined into a huge crafting area. The space on the left was a large formal dining room. The upstairs was all bedrooms, and the corner behind the craft room, beside the kitchen was Freya’s private space.
“It smells amazing in here,” Alex said. “Any idea what’s for dinner?” He frowned as he glanced at me. “Does she know you can’t do dairy?”
“Tonight is a taco bar,” Chad said as he came t
hrough the doorway from the kitchen. “Chicken, beef, and pork, even some vegan options of beans if you all want.” He grinned. “I love taco night. We don’t get this sort of stuff in Michigan. Spices are not quite the same.”
“You’re from Michigan?” Alex asked him, headed his way. I followed, listening to the two of them banter about the quality of Mexican-American food. Freya had a Latina woman who made amazing tamales and real authentic Mexican food. Though when the B&B was full, it was easier to make blander, more universal dishes that might appeal to more picky palates. Which meant this trip would be filled with taco bars, pancakes and eggs, and some sort of meat and potatoes type dinners. As long as I got Alex to eat, the rest didn’t matter.
“Yeah, Detroit. Not looking forward to the winter, man. I hate the cold. Been thinking about moving south. Lots of conventions down here. I wish I could make cosplay a full-time gig.”
“I’m not sure how that works,” Alex admitted as we entered the kitchen and found the taco bar set up off to the side on a wide stretch of counter leading to the dining room. “Is there a market for it? I didn’t know sexy cosplay was a thing until recently. Do people travel around and make cosplay for a living?”
“Some people can,” Chad said. “Freya does. MaryAnn does a lot, so do a few others. Some make costumes as their income. I’m not great at making things for other people. Sex sells anything, and people are into anime a lot of the time because it’s sexy. Everyone wants the illusion of being with some favorite character. Sexy cosplay is huge. A very private community, but there are a lot of diehard fans. People get really well known for certain characters. Sometimes there are crossover shoots between favorites. Those always get buzz.”
Chad picked up a plate and Alex mimicked him, getting ready to dish up food. I kept an eye on him, but said hello to the handful of other group members who were filling their plates too. “Not sure anyone would care to see my giant, hairy ass in sexy cosplay, so that’s not really an option for me. But for them,” Chad waved at me and the girls, “everyone loves that. Small and cute pings everyone’s radar.”