by C. P. Rider
He nuzzled my bare breast, and I cuddled against him.
"But it's almost midnight. I want to give you your present while it's still your birthday."
I blinked up at him. "What you did to me an hour ago wasn't my gift?"
"Sure." He leaned down, kissed me. "It's a two-part gift. Don't you want to open your present?"
"Yes." I rubbed my eyes and sat up, tucked the sheet around me, held out my hands. "Give it to me please."
Lucas handed me the robin's egg blue box I'd seen next to the cake in the kitchen. I pulled the white satin ribbon off and lifted the lid.
All my words came out at once. "Oh, this is too expensive it's … Lucas … it's … oh my. It's beautiful."
Nestled in the flocked lining lay a gold chain link wrap bracelet with a tiny ball and lock hanging off two of the links. It was the prettiest piece of jewelry I'd ever seen, much less owned.
"Lucas, I know you bought this at the store where Audrey Hepburn had breakfast, and I also know this cost too much." I pushed the box with the bracelet at him and scooted back, but then I leaned over again and peered inside. "So shiny."
He laughed, took out the bracelet, chucked the box over his shoulder, and fastened the gleaming piece of gorgeousness on my wrist. I admit I didn't fight him too hard.
Or at all.
Tears filled my eyes. I wasn't a huge crier, but this was so much, and after the day I'd had…
"I love it," I whispered.
"I'm glad." He rolled me onto my back and kissed me. "Now for part three of your gift…"
"You can't do the same thing as part one and call it part three." I wrapped my arms around his neck and brought his mouth back down to mine for a brief kiss. "It's only part three if it's something different."
He waggled his brows. "Oh. This will be different."
My eyes widened. "Good different?"
"Mmm-hmm." He kissed his way down to my hip. "Very good."
"Wait."
Lucas's head popped up. "Do you want me to put on our sex theme?"
"No. Yes. Later maybe." I held up my wrist. "What's the significance of the ball and padlock?" I asked softly. "And don't think I missed the chain."
"Nothing," He settled his chest between my thighs and rested his head on my belly. I stroked his hair with the hand that wasn't wearing the bracelet.
"Tell me."
"It doesn't have to mean anything. I thought it was pretty, like you. Not everything is symbolic, you know."
"It is pretty—beautiful—but Lucas, I know how you think. You chose this for a reason. Tell me what it is."
"If I don't, you aren't going to start singing again, are you?"
I cleared my throat. "Tell me, t-t-t-tell me—"
He groaned. "Good evening folks, please join me in welcoming Neely Costa MacLeod and the Nails on Chalkboard Orchestra to the stage."
"—T-t-t-tell me, t-t-tell me—"
"All right." He rolled off me and army-crawled up to my head. "I'll have you know you have ruined Star Wars music for me."
"You'll live. Spill it or I sing again."
"I can tell you it's not that husband-wife ball and chain thing," he said stiffly.
"No, I didn't think you were that insensitive." I flicked the padlock on the bracelet with my fingernail. "Besides, there's a lock on this, too. What's that mean?"
He flopped onto his back. "The chain is just a chain. Don't read too much into that. The gold ball is representative of the sun. I picked it instead of a more realistic representation because no one else would know that, and I liked that it was my secret—until you pried it out of me." He frowned. "I told you in that dream world that you are the sunshine to my gray existence. Stop fishing for more compliments."
Warmth spread through me. "You know, whenever you say that, my heart gets all swollen and thumpy in my chest—the sunshine part, I mean, not the fishing part." I slung my leg over his hips and sat astride him. "And the lock? What does it mean?"
His hands coasted up my naked thighs to my waist and back down again. "You can guess."
"No, I can't." I shifted lower on his lap and rotated my hips. His eyes closed and a smile slid across his sweet-talking mouth. "Tell me."
"Neely, can we discuss this later?"
"Why?" I rocked against him. "Can't you concentrate?"
"No." He groaned, tightened his hands on my thighs. "Whenever you grind against me my heart gets all swollen and thumpy."
"That is not your heart."
Chapter Four
A few hours later, I woke up to an empty bed. I used the bathroom, slipped into Lucas's blue terrycloth robe, and padded down the hall and into the living room.
I wanted a piece of my buttercream roses cake. I'd been dreaming about it, in fact. A cake I didn't have to bake or decorate, a cake I could just eat. The best kind.
As I picked my way around the furniture in the living room, I heard Lucas's voice coming from his office. He was talking to someone on the phone. "No. I don't want her to know. It'll only upset her more and she's got enough on her mind with the bakery break-in."
He paused as if listening.
"Yeah, Chandra. I get it. She deserves to know, and she will know—just not yet. Give me time."
Another pause.
"What do you mean, for what? Things aren't… they aren't set yet, but I think we're close. I don't want him coming in and fucking everything up."
I halted. They were talking about me. And who was "him?"
The conversation ended with Lucas muttering his thanks. I didn't move, just stood in the center of the living room and waited for him.
He emerged from his office naked—the man didn't know the meaning of modesty—with something, I assumed his cell phone, gripped in his hand. He was halfway across the room before he noticed me. Now that was distracted. Usually he could scent me from a mile away.
"Neely." He halted, cleared his throat. "You're awake."
"I wanted my buttercream roses." It sounded stupid, but I couldn't think of anything else to say.
"The cake is in the refrigerator." He pointed to the bedroom hallway with his phone and then began walking in that direction. "Let me grab some shorts and I'll meet you in there. We'll have some together."
"Nope. Nope." I trailed down the hall after him. "We're not having cake until you tell me what that phone call was about."
"You were eavesdropping?" He flicked on the light switch, and through squinted eyes I watched him swipe a pair of black cotton shorts off a chair in the corner of his room and put them on.
"Yes. And don't you high-road me, Lucas Blacke." I shook my finger at him, and my new bracelet jingled. I admit, I took a couple of seconds to admire it before continuing. "You were being sneaky about that conversation. What were you saying?"
He looked straight at me and lied. "Group business. Doesn't involve you."
"Group business my ass. You were talking about me to Chandra."
"You have a beautiful ass."
"Lucas…"
He crossed his arms over his chest and set his jaw. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, Neely."
Stonewall me, will you? I read him.
Or, at least, I tried to read him. I reached for his thoughts, but nothing came through.
I regrouped. Instead of reaching, I opened myself to him and let his energy flow into me as I drove deeper, walking the edge of a spike. This was more intrusive than a telepathic read, but less than a spike, and it wasn't painful. The witches and I had been working on it Wednesday evenings before wine, margaritas, and hot spring soaks.
Nothing.
He was wearing a spelled charm. He had to be. There was no natural way he could keep me out of his head, I'd read him so many times before. Only problem with this theory was he wasn't wearing a shirt, so I could plainly see there was no charm. Maybe it was in his shorts pocket, although it was my understanding that it had to be worn against the skin to be a hundred percent effective. Unless he had a different sort of charm.
Or unless the problem wasn't a charm.
The silence between us stretched from seconds to a minute as I kept trying to get into his head and failing.
As much pain as my ability had caused me over the years, I would have assumed I'd be more comfortable with the idea of it failing me. Instead, I panicked. My brain didn't seem to know how to handle this new information and decided panic was its best course of action.
"Well? Did you get it all?" He jabbed at his head, the look in his whiskey eyes cold. "Did you pick up every last detail?"
"No." I took a calming breath. Then another. "And you don't get to be angry. You told me to read you when I wanted to, remember?"
"I told you to ask." The ice in his voice gave me the shivers, and not in a good way.
"No, you told me I was a fool for not using it all the time."
He growled. "When I tell you I don't want to talk about something, I expect you to respect my wishes."
"And when I ask you for the truth, I expect you to give it to me." I stared directly into his eyes to prove that I wasn't afraid of him. That he wasn't going to guilt me, or otherwise push me around. My chest rose and fell only slightly slower than my heartbeat, which was far too fast.
His voice deepened, took on an edge of power. "Your frustration with me doesn't give you the right to intrude inside my head, spiker."
"Did you really just... seriously, did you…" I gritted my teeth. This man was unreal. "Apologize right now, Lucas."
"For what?"
"You don't talk to me like that, alpha. You also don't use your big powerful moon magic voice to try to influence me."
"You use telepathy and spiking." He cocked his head, then shook it. "But I can't use my alpha voice? Would you prefer I just sit back and take it?"
"You use that voice with your shifters. I'm not part of your group, Alpha Blacke. And this attitude of yours? This is one of the reasons why I never will be." I swiped my bra off the floor and stomped out of the room.
"Come on, don't walk out."
My sneakers were by the front door, as were the keys to Lucas's truck. I grabbed the keys and slid into my shoes. Then I remembered why I had come out of the room in the first place.
"All right." Lucas was behind me, using his stupid shifter speed to stay at my back. "The way I spoke was out of line, but I felt you digging in my head. Reading me when you know I don't want you to is bad enough, but you know I don't like to be spiked."
"You weren't being spiked, though you deserved it. I know you're lying to me, Lucas. And you know I don't like to be lied to." The back of my throat burned with unshed tears. I swallowed them down and let out a shaky sigh. "Especially not by you."
"Neely." He stuck his hands on his hips and let his head droop forward.
I spun on my sneakered heel and headed into the kitchen. He didn't follow.
When I turned on the light, Lestat meowed angrily from his art glass bowl bed atop the refrigerator. Just what I needed—another male snapping at me. Although I was annoyed, I dug the treat packet out of the drawer by the refrigerator and put some crunchy bits in the bowl, because it wasn't Lestat's fault I was fighting with Lucas.
I gave my pretty birthday bracelet one final longing look, unfastened the clasp, and gently laid it out on the counter. Then I opened the refrigerator, took out the box with my birthday cake in it, and stomped out the front door.
"You took the cake but not the bracelet?"
I pointed at a rose with my fork. "Dottie, it's buttercream."
"Make perfect sense to me." Dolores helped herself to another piece of my cake. "I'm shocked to my shoes that he let you walk out."
"Why do you say that?"
I'd gone to the witches, of course. I didn't want to go home when I was this depressed. I'd probably have cried myself stupid and eaten my entire cake, and that would have been a mistake. Given the paltry state of my bank account, I couldn't afford to buy bigger clothes.
It was four a.m., which meant Dolores and Dottie hadn't been to bed yet. They spent the hours between midnight and five a.m. chanting and pushing magic into the cold, stone tower. The old building was slowly awakening after lying dormant for the biggest part of a century, and it was the Fairfield sisters' main focus in life to fully charge it. In return, the tower heightened the witches' power far beyond what they were capable of without it—plus it gave Dolores a place to hang her obnoxiously bright watering hole sign.
"My sister meant Alphas aren't known for their rationality when it comes to mates."
"Exactly, Dot, and that tiger has got it worse than most." Dolores shoveled a buttercream rose into her mouth.
"We aren't mates—whatever the heck that means—we're just sleeping together. Occasionally." I had already eaten two slices of cake and was feeling the effects. My eyelids drooped, and I'd had to loosen the belt of Lucas's robe. At least I'd found my now-dry chonies in his truck, so I was wearing underwear again.
"It means mates. It's not a complicated concept." Dolores set down her fork and eyed me. "Your hair is real big this morning, kiddo."
"I know." I grabbed a lock of it and waved it at her. "It's because my drunk butt dunked it in your mineral spring earlier and let it dry with no conditioner or product. It's called volume."
"Huh." The witch squinted at it and then patted her smoothed-back white hair and long thick braid. "Think I could get mine to do that? I've got the length, but my volume is turned down."
"Uh, I believe you have to have curly hair to get this type of volume."
"What a bummer." The witch gave the piece of cake on her plate a glum frown. "I was hoping to start wearing my hair big and sexy, like yours. I need to put myself out there more. You and Dot are getting all the action around here."
I patted her soft, timeworn hand. "Your hair looks very nice in its braid—very you. I think you'll do better being yourself." I glanced across the table at Dottie, who sent me a wide-eyed shrug. Apparently, Dolores's interest in dating was news to her, too.
Dottie clasped her hands together in front of her. "Returning to the problem at hand, dear, being mated with someone is, well, it's a bit like being married, to compare it to a human construct. But with a deeper metaphysical connection."
"Married? Bite your tongues."
"There are worse things." Dottie grinned and I knew she was thinking about her boyfriend, Earp.
"What do you think about me not being able to read Lucas? Could he have had one of those anti-me charms?"
"Could be." Dottie gave me a thoughtful look. "Did your attempt to gain access to his thoughts hurt or weaken you?"
That's right. When I'd read someone wearing a charm before, I'd passed out afterward. The pain had been tremendous.
"No. It was more of a stuffy feeling. Like when you have a head cold."
"Well then, I doubt it was a witch charm. Maybe a demon curse? A dark magic spell? Some kind of moon magic?" Dolores licked frosting off her fingers. "Or maybe he's immune to you. Spike him and see."
"No, I’m not going to 'spike him and see.' I might hurt him." The thought of hurting Lucas, no matter how annoyed I was with him, send a chill through me. "I used to be able to read him just fine. He can push thoughts at me, too."
"He can?" Dottie's voice went higher. "That's not normal."
"No, it's not. His thoughts just pop into my head when he wants them to." I picked at the cake crumbs on my plate. "No one else can do that."
"Interesting." Dolores gestured to Dottie with a head nod. "What was that passage you read in the Martinus tome a while back? Something about the spiker getting turned inside out and backasswards?"
"That wasn't the actual wording, and it wasn't in the Martinus tome." Dottie jumped up, the hem of her blue muumuu swishing, and headed for the stone wall beside the staircase leading to the bedroom on the third floor. We were eating our cake in the living/dining quarters on the second floor, right above the gift shop, AKA "interdimensional" bar, and the interior walls were floor to ceiling with bo
okcases filled with grimoires, tomes, textbooks, and romance novels.
"Turned inside out?" That sounded revolting.
"Emotionally, dear." Dottie hummed as she flipped through the pages of a book that appeared to be bound in matted human hair. Black filaments feathered to the floor as she shifted the book in her arms.
"You know, the way someone you love can do to you." Dolores snickered.
"Oh, please."
It wasn't that I didn't want to face my feelings. It was that I didn't want to hear from Dolores what a bad idea loving Lucas was. That was obvious. He'd hurt me tonight. I expected that sort of spiker disdain from other people, and I wasn't usually disappointed, but I hadn't expected it from him.
People can't hurt you that way unless you care about them. I'd learned that from Tío José. For most of my life, the only one who could cut me like that had been my uncle because he was the only person I'd cared enough about. My mom had abandoned me when I was little, and my dad … well, I loved him, but our relationship was complicated.
"The inside-out theory was along the lines of your ability being compromised when you become deeply attached to someone. Now that you're, er, close to Alpha Blacke, it could be that you have some sort of mental block when it comes to reading or spiking him."
"Or that he's immune to you," Dolores said.
I shook my head. "That's impossible. I've been in relationships, even been in love, and that's never happened."
"Are you talking about that Julio fella? The wolf?" Dolores finished off her piece of cake.
"Yes. We were engaged. I was crazy about him when we were together. But I could always read him."
And knowing what I knew now about his treachery, I wished I had read him more often.
"He wasn't as powerful as the tiger." Dolores glanced over at her sister. "Could that be it?"
"Maybe." Dottie closed the hair book and put it back on the shelf. Brushing stray black strands from the front of her dress, she went into the kitchen and washed her hands. "It's the usual story, I'm afraid. Neely's spiker ability is virgin territory. The only way we can know for sure is to experiment." She yawned. "But I'll keep looking."