by L. R. W. Lee
He’s seen your breasts, Pell, my inner minion says.
I know, but…
It’s a mental block. I know that. But to me, seeing is so much different than feeling. There’s a rawness and vulnerability to seeing that’s not there with feeling. I don’t pretend to understand, but it’s real for me.
Pell, let me remind you what he thinks about your breasts.
My inner minion digs up Harpoc’s words. “You’re perfect,” and “Your breasts are incomparable.” Yesterday while changing he said, “You truly have a beautiful body,” and “You’re exquisite, Pell.”
He passionately declared these sentiments, I’ll never forget. They’re the first positive comments anyone has ever cared to share about a part of my anatomy, not that I actively solicit comments—Oh, god, no. But it was positive, not some jerk picking on me.
The words warm me, because it’s clear he believes every one of them, but I’ve wrestled with my body image for years, and two occasions won’t erase how insecure I feel about anyone seeing me.
I bite my lip and roll over, glad for the protection the covers offer from his eyes.
But the instant he sees worry on my face, his shoulders drop and he runs the back of his fingers against my cheek.
I read pain—for me—on his beautiful olive-toned face. “I would never force you.”
“I’m trying, but…”
He leans forward and kisses my forehead. “I know and I’m rooting for you because I don’t happen to agree with your sentiments.”
I draw my hand along his fuzzy jaw. “Thank you.”
He kisses it as I pull away.
“What do you have planned for me today?” I ask.
A corner of his mouth hitches, like he gets that I’m trying to deflect attention to something else. Mwhahaha. Two can play this game.
“I thought I’d take you to another of my favorite places and continue your training.”
“Another favorite place? Have you taken anyone else to this one?”
He chuckles. “As a matter of fact, I have. I’m not a complete recluse.”
I laugh. It feels good because we both have our challenges.
And so, an hour or so later, we emerge onto the back deck. Dark clouds fill the skies, and it looks like we may get some rain, but I’m not worried because I have Harpoc-rain-be-gone with me if nature decides to let loose.
I curl up in his arms in my hoodie and jeans. He’s in a T-shirt and black jeans along with that jacket he wore yesterday.
He launches from the balcony, and I immediately spot sphinxes standing at attention at a host of posts outside the castle. I can’t help but smile. It’s still hard to believe sphinxes are common here.
I settle in for the ride, but almost immediately Harpoc glides down. We haven’t even cleared the sprawling city. It’s the second time I’ve seen it in daylight, and the sounds of ongoing repairs drift up.
I shake my head. Arimanius’s rats definitely left a mark.
But there’s no sense in bemoaning what can’t be changed.
I refocus on the fact that Harpoc and I will be training again. I’m not complaining mind you; I enjoy spending time with him.
But my gut wonders if there’s a reason he’s taken over my training rather than having Nuria continue. I mean, he’s the busy big shot.
Why does he waste his precious time on me?
Is it part of him wanting me to know the real him or is it that he’s taking personal responsibility for training me, because he’s privy to whatever secret I’m the subject of and he knows I’ll need it?
Chapter Thirty
We’ve just set down before a climbing-rose-covered tunnel where lavender-color blooms abound, filling the air with their sweet fragrance. Blooms cover the entirety of the sides as well as the underside of the top of the tunnel. It’s just beautiful.
But then Aura materializes out of thin air.
I know it’s her because, one, I’m getting used to her popping up out of nowhere unannounced, and two, her hair is the same short, smoke-gray bob as the first time I met her. She’s dressed in armor that reminds me of Faora, the super villainess in DC Comics.
I give her a long look, taking in the multiple layers of pointy shoulder armor, the breastplate with multiple points, the thigh and shin guards that carry over that pointy theme, along with gauntlets. She’s armed for bear.
Where’s she been?
“The Queen of Scarabs is livid that you have not yet paid her a visit after her secret leaked to Arimanius’s rats,” she says, as I step out of Harpoc’s arms.
Shit.
I knew we were going to have to address the winged, creepy, crawly Queen of Scarabs, especially after I awarded her competitor that contract. Harpoc agreed last night. She’ll be even more pissed.
My stomach tenses.
Harpoc takes in Aura’s outfit. “I presume she summoned you?”
She huffs. “As if I’m some dog to be called.”
“She dressed like that to visit the scarab queen?” I whisper to Harpoc.
Please say, no.
“Indeed she did.”
“I’ve delivered her message, will there be a reply?” Aura clenches her jaw along with a fist.
Harpoc shakes his head. “You’re no dog, Aura. I’ll take it from here.”
“Thank you, Harp. I’ll be going, then.”
With that she vanishes, but I keep looking at the spot she was standing, wondering how in the universe she does that. It truly is like “poof.” Not even Harpoc does that.
“So then, training,” he says, placing a hand on my back.
“Don’t we need to… not that I’m anxious to…”
“Her royal highness can wait a bit longer.” It comes out a growl. “Anyone who disrespects my Core will get attention when I deem.”
At the first Core meeting, it was clear bad blood exists between Harpoc’s people and her royal scarab heinie. Is it because she regularly disrespects him and his people?
“What do lavender roses mean?” I point at the rose tunnel before us, letting Aura’s words fade. Harpoc exhales as if he’s glad for the distraction.
We enter the tunnel, and the fragrance becomes intense—it’s a sweet, spicy smell with fruity notes.
“Lavender means enchantment, as well as love at first sight.” He looks over at me with eyes dancing. “Those who have been enraptured by feelings of love and adoration have used lavender roses to express their romantic feelings and intentions.”
Oh god, I stepped right into that one.
My heart flutters, and I can’t stop my mouth before it spills the rogue thought, “Is that what lavender is for you, right now?”
An alarm starts wheezing in my head.
I can’t believe I just asked him that—I’ve even had coffee so what’s my excuse? I want to reel the words back in, but this fish is off the hook and swimming away because he’s grinning from ear to ear.
“What do you think?” It comes out a purr.
And just like that, the ball’s back in my court. No way am I going to respond. I’m afraid of the answer, either way.
I bite my lip and hurry forward, making him laugh.
“Why fear the answer, Pell?” Seduction fills his tone. He loves making me blush, and he’s doing a good job of it.
You started it, Pell.
Shush.
I round the curve in the rose tunnel and slow as it ends, because we approach a forested area with a perfectly round opening beneath a stone bridge, and I feel like I’m entering Hobbiton. It’s enchanting. Moss lines the stones and adds an ancient twist that heightens the magical feel.
I like this place. A lot.
Manicured bushes along with several tall trees line the stone path on both sides after the bridge, then open up into a sweeping, well-tended lawn. More tall trees and shrubs surround and set the area off, giving it a private and secluded feel despite it being in the city.
I listen intently, but it seems only birds inhabit th
e space because no city noises intrude. Then again, Harpoc may have one of his shields up to block any city noise.
“It’s a haven.”
Harpoc laughs as I spin around, arms wide, taking in the tall shade trees, their crimson and jade and teal leaves swaying in the gentle breeze, then stride over to an area that looks like a checkerboard, created by inlaying white marble squares in the grass.
“This is my private garden. No one has access, not from the skies, or the ground, not even Aura, unless I grant it. I thought it would be a good place for you to train.”
I return to him and give him a peck on the lips. “Thank you. I love it.”
I’m completely alone in a… definitely enchanted… maybe romantic… garden with him. My stomach flutters.
You’re training, Pell.
I know, I know.
Thunder rumbles as Harpoc removes his jacket, and I look up to see that the skies have grown even darker. We’re definitely in for a downpour. But his svelte and sexy body refocuses my attention as he strides to the white, wrought iron patio sofa at the edge of the checkerboard and lays his coat down.
He must feel me watching him because his eyes sparkle, despite me looking away, when he turns back around. He leans against a thick trunk beside the green-cushioned sofa and crosses his arms. “I thought we’d pick up where we left off. Direct your magic for me.”
I bob my head. Your mission, if you choose to accept it...
Thankfully this mission isn’t impossible, in fact, I feel good about it because I learned a lot the last time.
Shadowy wisps immediately escape as I take off my ring and put it in a pocket. I situate myself several feet away from him, in the grass at the far edge of the checkerboard.
I’m standing roughly in the center of the manicured clearing, giving myself plenty of room so I don’t accidently take out a tree, like I did that post on the platform, in the Valley of Silence.
Rocks set off the edges of this grassy area, and I point at a cute little white-painted, doll house birdhouse topping a pole just behind them, not far from Harpoc.
“I’ll direct my shadows to kiss the weathervane on the roof.”
You sure about that, Pell?
“Don’t kill any birds, please.” Harpoc grins.
I salute my coach, then set to work gathering a thick, maybe five foot diameter ball of magic. After our “enchanted” versus “romantic” volley, a few minutes ago, my face warms when I feel my shadows brush against me.
Behave, shadows.
I can’t very well say it out loud so I hope they understand. They seem to because the ball becomes more defined and backs off a foot or two.
“Shadows, I command you to swiftly locate above the birdhouse without killing any birds and not damaging anything around here.” Determination fills my voice, making it clear I’m in charge. “Go.”
The two birds that are eating, bug out when they see my shadow ball float toward them. It hovers over the birdhouse, and I’m about to take a bow when the peanut gallery chimes in.
“It hasn’t kissed the weathervane yet,” Harpoc heckles from the sidelines.
“Always a critic. Fine.” I roll my eyes.
But before I can issue my next command, black wisps appear around me and a familiar feeling of tiny Styrofoam packing beads aka bugs crawling on me, aka the very seductive sensation of secret magic, starts caressing me. It has to be Harpoc’s because mine’s behaving itself nicely, doing exactly what I told it to, swirling above the birdhouse.
“Harpoc?”
“Yes?” He acts all innocent as his magic brushes my chest.
I inhale sharply at the seductive sensation.
How he manages to keep a straight face is beyond me. Especially as I feel it move between my legs. I slam my thighs together because it’s mighty intense.
My concentration breaks with the… stimulation, and my shadows retake command, smashing the pretty birdhouse then disburse where they will.
“Harpoc.” There’s no force behind the word because his shadows take another pass at my chest and despite swatting at them, my breasts turn traitor and enjoy the titillation.
“Focus, Pell. The world won’t stop for you to get your command out.”
His shadows camp out in a ring around my stomach and I shriek, jerking about, laughing hysterically as they start tickling me.
“Command your shadows, Pell.”
I shriek again. I’ve never been able to handle tickling. “Shadows… shadows reform… reform into a ball.”
My shadows ignore me.
His wisps relocate to my back, then circle my neck like a ticklish scarf, and I grab for them but there’s nothing to grab hold of. I jerk my shoulders about, trying to rid myself of the feeling, but it’s futile.
“Command your magic, Pell.”
“I’m trying.” I can only whisper, so consumed am I by tickling.
He gives me a hard look, arms still crossed.
It stops me. I know he’s right. I need to be able to command my magic no matter how distracted I am, and he’s picked my greatest weakness, my body, to exploit.
It doesn’t have to be your greatest weakness, Pell. You’re one tough bitch.
I am, but… I shake my head about, this way and that, but no hokeypokey’s going to fix it because nothing changes.
“Pell, focus on your magic.” Harpoc’s voice is serious.
I can’t swat his shadows away.
You can do it, Pell.
My body longs to jerk about, but force of will alone keeps me still, and I close my eyes, then retreat somewhere less ticklish in my mind.
“Shadows reform into a ball,” I command. It’s taking every ounce of concentration I have to get the words out because the wisps of his magic don’t stop. I jerk my shoulder. I can’t help it.
“Good, Pell. Keep going.”
I swat at where the tickling is most intense as I peek and see my shadows have reformed and are swirling in a loose ball. It’s not pretty, but it’ll have to do.
I slam my eyes shut again and return to my happy, no tickle place. It’s nearly impossible to concentrate. “Shadows go back and… and hover over the birdhouse—” A shiver rocks my body with all that his wispy magic is doing to me. “—the birdhouse… go quickly to what’s left of the birdhouse and… and… and bring me the weathervane.” I’m going to come out of my skin. “Don’t… don’t hurt any bird or… or-anything-else-go.”
I jumble the last words together. They can’t come out fast enough.
Harpoc withdraws his magic the next second, and I pant as my shadows zoom to where the birdhouse lays in ruins, then like the toddler they behaved like before, ever so slowly make their way toward me.
“I forgot to tell them how fast to come back to me.”
Harpoc smiles, beside me. “In all fairness, you were a little distracted.”
I give him my best frown, then hold out my hand and my shadows deposit the weathervane in my palm.
“Shadows, retreat back six feet and hover there.”
They obey, and Harpoc kisses my forehead. “Nicely done.”
I swat his arm.
“What? I wanted you to experience being distracted because that’s more usual than not.”
“I hope I’m never tickled like that again.” I add a little pout to the tone.
He raises an eyebrow, and I know I’ve just given him other ideas.
I hold out the weathervane trying to distract him. “Care to fix it?”
He smiles as he takes the piece, seeing through my ploy to distract him, and a thought later, the birdhouse is again standing tall.
“We’ll keep practicing, by whatever means.” A corner of his mouth hitches.
I’ve no doubt.
Chapter Thirty-One
A bolt of lightning strikes, lighting up the skies directly above us, making me jump. Thunder booms, and I do mean booms, half a second later and my heart speeds.
One drop, then another, and another follow in quic
k succession.
While Harpoc gazes at the skies, I draw my shadows back inside because it’s going to pour, then I put my ring back on.
And just like that, a torrent, like the heavens opening wide, lets loose, and I screech, grabbing Harpoc’s hand and dragging him under the green canvas canopy beneath which the wrought iron bench stands.
I’m soaked, so is he for that matter, and I swipe my hands across my face as the rain continues pelting.
“You didn’t put up your anti-ugly-weather shield.”
He chuckles beside me, not bothering to address his wetness. “I actually love to watch the rain, especially one as hard as this. I love the smell it leaves when it’s done, too.”
I look him over. “You’re full of surprises.”
“Am I?”
Another clap of thunder unleashes overhead as the downpour continues.
“It surprises you that I enjoy rain?”
“Rain is just so… ordinary.”
“So it’s too simple for a god to enjoy?”
“I don’t know. I’m just surprised is all.”
His voice fills with wonder. “The simpler something is, the more amazing. The uniqueness and complexity of a flower’s bloom—” He waves a hand at the flowers around us. “—the sound of thunder, the taste of honey, the smell of magic, the feel of moss on bark. They’re all seemingly simple, yet that’s what makes them so profound.” He looks out at the deluge still coming down.
Huh, he’s quite the philosopher.
I have my own story of stuff I marvel at. “Every time I see a primitive tool, I can’t help but think of what it took for the person who crafted it, to first imagine, then create it. It takes great skill to envision, then create something out of nothing, the first time. It’s deceptively complex.”
Harpoc’s face lights up. He pulls me into his arms, then brushes the stray hairs away from my face and looks into my eyes.
The fairies in my stomach launch as I gaze into his beautiful gold and silver eyes.
“Is this more of letting me see the real you?”
“It is.” He says it quietly, but I hear it above the next clap of thunder. “None of the Core know I love rain.”