In a lull, I leaned toward Poseidon and asked, “What happened to the wolf?”
He shot me a look. I knew asking was breaking a rule, but he allowed it and shook his head in the negative.
“The Vapor refused to separate.”
Dead. The wolf was dead. Holy crap.
This was a god’s prerogative, on both sides of the line. Billy’s voice rumbled in my memory.
“Gods aren’t magical, Patra. They are omnipotent and forever the pinnacle of power. Never assume a friendship is in place or that they like you as a favorite human. You are an ant. AN ANT. Never, ever forget this.”
“I’m sorry you had to do that. It must be complicated to be you.” I blinked in horror and self-flagellation for my mouth’s willingness to get me killed and waited for the smite.
Poseidon raised an eyebrow, then tapped the bar. Okay, still here, undead. Color me thankful for small favors.
Where the hell did that come from? Patra, for the love of speedos, button up your shit.
Silent, I delivered his drink and moved toward the fairies.
“I’m so glad you returned. More whisps?” Faires drank a complicated cocktail of suspended alcohol whipped into a fog that stayed within the walls of the glass and swirled. The faster it whirled, the more potent the drink. With Billy’s help, it took me a month to get it right, but I made a serious whisp.
“Yes, please! It was delicious.”
“Extra swirly,” added an enamored bear. “My treat.”
After an elaborate pour, I passed a delicate pink fog vortex across the bar and they cheered. The other four bears each raised a furry finger and soon every fairy had a tornadic whisp and the whole group was loose. I knew what was coming so I wiped and dried my bartop. No point in having anyone slip.
Soon the fairies were flitting, bouncing across and through the bar, dancing on the bartop and zipping in rapid fire arcs around the hanging lanterns. One misjudged and barrelled off a lamp chain toward the floor. With a gallant swipe, she’s caught by a bear. The group laughed; they were pairing up well. I’m hoping my bathrooms weren’t the siren’s call, but magicals didn’t care a whit about human senses of decorum and hooked up when the mood struck them. The Boogey was shades of Wild Kingdom on stilts.
The sound of popcorn filled the room, and the bar was inundated with arriving witches, filling with 84 newcomers. Chelsea took a seat next to Poseidon, talking low, as I scrambled to pour, hands a blur. Several ordered whole bottles and shared with their coven mates, passing them around as they stood in small clusters, or sat in seats they conjured. In about 10 minutes I had everyone sorted, at least for round one.
I sucked in air, pouring Chelsea’s usual and turned to give it to her, but she and Big Red weren’t there.
Glenna pushed up to the bar, so I passed it to her.
“On me.”
“Gonna need it,” her gap-toothed grin flashed. “There’s a huge week ahead.”
Huh. Well, I knew better than to ask. The rest of the night slammed, the best one in two years. Pleased, I ran my last-call tabs, amazed not a single one walked out on me, and pulled out my accounts book to enter the totals. It’d be fantastic if these bears kept showing up, they handled their liquor and whisps weren’t cheap.
We’re about half an hour before sunrise but the bar was still full. Most of the witches stood, passing the bottles ordered before I wrapped, and sang. The music was beautiful, and I nodded to the harmonies, sounds that wavered between Celtic melodies and medieval chants.
Humans wandered onto the beach, walking the sands in anticipation of the sunrise, so it helped that my stragglers were witches who could depart unseen. Pain wracked my leg; I grabbed my bottle under the bar, poured a freight train of a drink, and downed half of it. Self medication for the win. The limp was worse; no doubt my appointment with the ortho doc would involve scoldings and admonishments of bed rest. Not happening.
“Hurting?” Glenna’s eyes were candid.
“Yeah. The Vapor you helped yank broke my leg.”
Glenna reached into the pouch secured at her waist and pulled out a handful of potion vials.
“No. No, not you, nope, nope. Ah, this one. Here, Keeper, drink this.”
I’m hoping for pain med, so I chugged the vial. My leg went warm, then scalding hot.
“Yeeee-ouch!”
“Good. Try the leg.”
I shifted my weight and tested it. Not bad.
“Is it mended?” I pushed more weight on the leg, feeling a twinge.
“Partially. You don’t want to raise questions because it’s no longer broken. The potion reduced the fracture, and it won’t grow if you continue to abuse yourself, which you will.”
“Wow. That’s a specific potion.”
“I’m no slouch with potion-making. Besides, after your little show in the woods, I thought something like this might come in handy, so I whipped it together.” She snapped, and the vial refilled.
“No need to bug out your eyes. I taught Chelsea everything she knows; I’m her Mama.”
Grateful for the confidence, I grinned. Does every Keeper reach the point where it feels less like a servant and more like a peer or friend? Is that a bad thing?
“Depends,” Glenna said, waving to dismiss the thought. “We’re in unusual circumstances.”
Here I go running naked again.
“It only bothers you because you know it’s happening. Would you rather be in the unknowing club?”
Her finger pushed through the pile of vials.
“No blurring my Keeper,” Poseidon warned, as he and Chelsea wavered and reappeared, retaking their stools.
“As you wish,” Glenna winked, returning her wares, clinking, into her waist sack.
I mixed Poseidon his regular, pushed a drink to Chelsea, then cleared their tabs. Tiny, for Poseidon. How long were they gone?
After shooting me a smile, Chelsea took a big swig, then another, and climbed up on her barstool. The babble of conversation continued, so with a piercing, whistling shriek, she cut across the roar of the waves below and the murmuring within The Boogey.
“We need to adjourn. The Keeper must close at dawn. Glenna,” she gestured to her mother, “has offered to shelter everyone.”
Several witches looked delighted, and the largest group clapped.
“Does anyone here not know the spell?” Chelsea paused for a long moment. “Very well. Poseidon will watch the Keeper until the new moon. He is best suited to keeping her alive.”
A round of nods greeted my gaping mouth.
The new is not for an entire fucking week, Patra. Holy crap.
Chelsea jumped off her stool, and the room filled with pops. I watched the witches vanish in twos and threes until I remained with a bemused Poseidon.
This was so damn unfair. All I wanted was my bed. And Ballard, and privacy to call him and try to talk about everything, to find our answer.
“And you thought you were off the hook.” His chuckle grew louder as the color left my skin. “Cleopatra, human life is never fair. It’s chaos, we designed existence that way to keep it interesting. Well, of interest to the immortals. Besides, I won’t play with you in your current state. I’ll let Ballard break you more and see how your mind turns. A week is both forever and nothing to me, and you are a tasty toy worth unwrapping a second time.”
He got up, stretched, gave his balls a good scratch, and grinned.
Oh, jeez.
“Let’s go watch the sunrise at your place, and you can cook me breakfast.” He turned, scratching his ass and headed for the door.
If you washed that speedo you wouldn’t be so itchy.
“I heard that.”
Dammit, Poseidon, get out of my head. This is SO not what I want.
“I heard that, too.”
Chapter 14
The sun came up in a blaze, light creeping across the balcony and warming our toes. Against the horizon clouds formed, resembling the heads and shoulders of horses, racing the edge
.
“The reds are incredible.”
“There is angst on the line, Cleopatra. Not every red sky is a warning for sailors. Some are warnings for the magicals.”
“Huh, I had no idea.”
“Everything’s connected, even the chaotic bits make sense if you have sufficient distance. Gods build on a grand scale.”
I shot a side eye, but he was serious, staring out across the sea. The wind pushed his long hair over broad shoulders and his chiseled features, resembling thousands of statues, seeming otherworldly. Well, that’s not untrue.
Not for the first time, I pondered that moment, at sixteen, where life shifted and placed me on a path to sit through a sunrise with a god while the entirety of humanity bustled, oblivious. Kicked back and lounging on the big chaise in contented silence, Poseidon snored. That’s promising. Maybe he’ll sleep the day away. Still, better start the food and keep me off his menu.
A quick tiptoe moved me from the balcony into the kitchen to make the promised breakfast. Busy was preferable to jousting with his innuendos. I started the bacon then cracked eggs into a large blue bowl. Ten should do it. Lost in the mindless rhythm of cooking, the beep of my phone made me jump. A glance stopped my heart. Ballard.
“Hey there.”
“Patra, could we talk? I’m in your lobby.”
“I’d love that. Give me a sec.”
Heart pounding, I ran to the chaise and, since I’m not allowed to touch a god first, clapped my hands near his big head. Not the one in the speedo.
“Wake up!” I hissed to the sleepy god. “Ballard is on his way upstairs. Please, Poseidon, I’m begging you to leave. Let me have space for this.”
To my shock, he shimmered and vanished with zero pushback. Not even a snarky comment? Un-freaking-believable. I trotted to the foyer and hit the buzzer to unlock the security door to the elevators so Ballard could come upstairs.
Shit. I’m cooking breakfast for two!
With a scamper back to the kitchen, I covered and slid the bowl of eggs into the fridge, and buried the shells in the trash. There was no way on earth to explain eating ten eggs. Bacon was a different story.
Kitchen looking somewhat explanatory, I did a fast mirror check, grateful for the ten-thousandth time to be blessed with excellent skin. Even when exhausted, it held up well for mid-thirties. Perhaps that’s the Keeper piece in me. I did not know.
Ballard’s knock interrupted the shake to fluff my hair, and I yanked the door open, barrelling through it with a leap and landing in his arms. He muscled through the doorway, kissing my face off, and we landed on the floor of the front hallway, rolling until I straddled him, big hands squeezing my hips and grinding me across his rocket.
“I missed you.” Ballard’s tone was light, his eyes green, serious pools.
“I don’t want us apart.”.
“Patra, I love you, even if you can’t handle that.”
“I know. You’re the only one in the world for me, Ballard. I just can’t....”
“Say it.”
“You don’t need to believe I’m any more eccentric than you already do, Ballard. I’m not the most normal option out there.”
The warm grip on my hips tightened. “Say it.”
I blew out a sigh. What the hell Patra. Just give him the sanitized version.
“Ballard, I have a supreme confidence that I’ll die young. This is as real to me as knowing I breathe oxygen. I refuse to put you through that, and not being ‘in love’,” my fingers waggled air quotes in front of my breasts, “lessens the potential devastation for you. As crazy as it sounds, I’m doing this not loving you thing because I care.”
“Nobody knows when they will die, Patra.”
“There are people in Cassadaga who disagree.”
Ballard snorted.
“Hey, I don’t expect you to understand, Ballard, but you asked. You possess a near perfect bullshit-o-meter, and I know you see I’m speaking the truth.
Our eyes locked as the seconds ticked.
Screeeeeeeeeeeee! The kitchen erupted with the smoke alarm’s song of failure.
“Oh shit, my bacon!”
Pushing hard on Ballard’s chest, I jammed my feet under me and run to the stove. Burnt but salvageable bacon and my kitchen wasn’t engulfed in a raging fire, which was a plus. Ballard leaned against the doorjamb as I put the bacon on paper towels, poured off the grease and set the pan to soak.
“That’s a ton of bacon.”
“With The Boogie’s kitchen closed, I wanted BLTs for lunches. Guess they’ll be BBLTs.”
Green eyes twinkled. “Burnt bacon, lettuce and tomato isn’t the worst thing to eat.”
“Nope. Still bacon.”
Ballard pulled me close and planted a slow, lingering, intentional kiss that ended up covering my eyelids.
“So, you don’t love me because you don’t want to hurt me if you die young, and that’s how you show me you love me? Did I follow all that?”
“No ‘L’ word, Ballard. I’m right about this.”
“How old will you be before your caveat is moot?”
On tiptoe, I kissed his nose. “Sixty.”
“Fair enough. When you turn sixty, I expect to hear it on the hour until you die of old age.”
“If I turn sixty, you will get it on the half hour. I believe in giving good measure.”
I grabbed my tee shirt and yanked it over my head and undid the front clasp of my bra, sending both to the floor. “Let me give you an example.”
I worked his shirt buttons as he carried me to bed, craving his warm, smooth skin. He raked his thumb under the waistband of my shorts along my ass crack and shucked my shorts and panties before running a massaging grip up my calf and thigh, sliding his thumb across my bud in a teasing exploration that elicited a gasp.
I squirmed, a signal I wanted to move on top of him, but Ballard didn’t budge, instead pinning me with firm insistence while his hands roamed, fingers sliding in my slick need, probing, pounding and pulling back to massage and tap my clitoris, driving me insane.
Insistent lips slid along my neck and across my breasts, biting down on a nipple as a wet finger slid up my anus. My moan intensified as he moved and bit the other nipple, sliding his finger in and out.
“Dammit, Ballard!”
This wasn’t a norm for us, but I was beyond turned on, and he dropped his mouth down, filling me with two fingers in my vagina and the busy little finger in the back while his tongue rocked my clit. I exploded in violent orgasm.
“Ballard, oh my god!”
In the far corner of the room, behind Ballard’s head, Poseidon shimmered into view, grabbed his crotch, gave himself a couple good strokes and faded out.
Splayed out and in recovery mode, I was in no shape to deal with it.
You’ve watched him fuck hundreds of women, Patra. It is what it is.
Ballard eased off me to lie on his side, and I kissed him deeply, tweaking his nipples with my fingers and moving my lips down his gorgeous hard body, kissing and licking the warm solid curves of his pecs and abs. Following the narrow line of reddish brown hair along his belly, I snuggled in, licking his cock with long, slow motion, getting him wet. I pulled his tip into my mouth, and slid him in and out, each one deeper. He held my shoulder, relaxing into the attention.
Fingertips gripping his hip, I snuggled close, burying my face in his groin, sucking rhythmically, then tapped his hip. With a groan, he followed my lead, big hand palming my head as he gently moved his hips, fucking my mouth.
I got as creative with my tongue as I could, and his motion sped up. I was a delightful, wet warm space for him and he’s gone into the sensation. As his balls contracted, I gave them a firm squeeze and held them, feeling his seed release, hips shuddering as a deep moan of satisfaction rumbled from his chest.
Several hard sucks later, I pulled every drop from him then slid up, wiping one corner of my mouth and kissing him, mingling our flavors and reconnection. Something just changed, we�
�re better, different, and deeper.
Ballard’s finger, not the stinky one, traced on my forehead, and I held his gaze. I knew an ‘L’ when I felt it, and this one didn’t stand for loser. If this act was the silent compromise, I could live with it.
I snuggled into his arms, full of contentment. Exhaustion tapped my brain; Ballard’s day is starting, he’s headed for work in a few minutes. These float moments were where we intertwined our energies. It’s food for the day and night ahead.
The door snicked shut and Poseidon wavered into view. As I drifted to sleep, my eyes closed on his thoughtful look.
Chapter 15
“Patra, you’re very comfortable with him, open. It feels clean.”
We’re munching extra crispy bacon sandwiches on my balcony, watching the beach.
“I understand that, without a declaration, magicals doubt human sincerity. Not thrilled with your witness action, but I can appreciate that you took the time to see under our surface and digest what we share.”
“Sex is public for every creature, my dear. Humans are the only ones who hide, damn, and shame each other for it. Humanity had a clean piece of joy in its realm and ruined it. Spend more time witnessing lust. The possibilities are robust, and you might learn a few tricks.”
I cut him a side eye, and he’s grinning at me.
Fine. I suppose you’ve watched a billion couplings. I prefer no audience.
“That’s a mundane attitude, Cleopatra.”
“Except, I’m okay with boring mindsets, Poseidon. Working it out with Ballard mattered, and we’re getting there. My heart is light.”
He gave me another thoughtful look and resumed watching the sea. The condo was on the ninth floor, so people on the beach appeared tiny, but a commotion was happening. Beachgoers were running from the water, others jumping into their cars, and a few raced full tilt across the sand.
“What the?”
“Remain, Keeper,” Poseidon commanded, fading to nothing.
Boogie Beach Page 8
