by T. S. Ryder
Cain Samson liked to breeze into his meetings twenty minutes late. He was huge, six-foot-five and pure muscle. His clear blue eyes were set on either side of a crooked nose that had been broken more times than he could count. He had long blond hair always falling into his eyes.
As if she had called him, Cain appeared at reception with his entourage in tow. Cain was one of the best hockey players in the world. He had three Stanley Cup championships under his belt and had been the captain of the gold-winning U.S. Olympic Hockey Team. He was, by far, her most famous client and the cocky grin he always wore told her he knew it.
His contract was sitting in front of her dotted with post-its and sign-here stickers. It was seventy pages of confusing legal jargon interspersed with huge amounts of money. Millions of dollars were being handled on these pages and it was Michelle’s job to make sure Cain saw every cent he was owed.
She ran her hand through her curly dark hair and quickly touched up her lipstick. Nothing could ever happen between her and Cain. He was her client, having a relationship with him would have been unethical and illegal. It could get her disbarred. Still, she wanted to look good. Flirting with Cain was one of the perks of her job.
Outside of the glass walls of her private office, the law firm was buzzing at the news of Cain’s arrival. Through the clear walls, she could see the receptionist, an older woman in her fifties who rarely moved, stand up and offer to walk Cain back to Michelle’s office.
There it was, that roguish smile that made all the girls, Michelle included, weak in the knees. He flashed it at the receptionist who giggled and tucked her hair behind her ear. He waved at her to sit down, indicating he didn’t need to be shown where to go. Cain knew where Michelle’s office was, he had been here plenty of times. As he strode past reception, the men of his entourage sat in the waiting area, propping their feet up on the coffee tables and pulling out their cell phones.
“Hello, Cain,” Michelle said as he pushed open her door. “How are you today?”
“Better now that I’ve seen that beautiful face of yours,” he countered. His voice was low and deep. Like a roll of thunder.
“I imagine this multi-million-dollar contract in front of me has also made your day better,” she said, determined to remain professional.
“That’s just a bonus, getting to see you is the real prize,” he stared straight at her when he said things like that. Sitting down in a chair across from her, he pressed his fingertips together and looked at her above them. He was so handsome it was almost unfair. If there had been any justice in the world, his handsomeness would have been diluted over several men, not all contained in this creature in front of her.
Creature was the right word. It wasn’t just that Cain was a wildly successful hockey player or that he was fabulously rich and handsome. The real thing that kept Michele away from him was hidden from normal eyes.
Cain was something else. She had known it from the first time he had pulled into the firm’s parking lot. The day of their first meeting she sensed him before she saw him. As the car pulled up to the firm, the hairs at the back of her neck tingled and she could smell smoke. No one else could smell it, though. They didn’t have the gift that she had. To everyone else Cain Samson was just a normal human, albeit one in great shape.
Everything that lived had an aura about it and each aura was different. Her mother, for instance, had a ring of yellow light that radiated off of her. It was calm and warm and soothing. Unless she was mad, then her mother’s aura was red and angry, lashing out at the other auras around her. The plants were surrounded with a pale green light, dogs had a bright white light that shone out from them.
Cain had something else. His aura was like nothing she had ever seen in a human. It was a swirling halo of greens, reds, and yellows mixed with the smell of something burning. There was a power in that aura she could not name. Cain Samson was not a normal man, but what he might be, she couldn’t guess. All she knew was that he was very powerful.
“You’re staring,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.
“You’re staring,” she replied looking seriously at him. Did he know? Could he guess that she too was not a normal human? She searched his gaze hoping to find something there, but she could deduce nothing past his flirting smile.
“So, let’s talk about your contract. It’s all the standard things we discussed. You’ll have a five-year deal with the Black Hawks for ten million per year. That includes some promotional stuff you’ll have to do, but we’ve negotiated that down to fifty hours per year, which shouldn’t be that hard,”
she held the contract out to him. He waved it away. “Let’s be honest, I would have no idea what anything written on that said. I trust your judgment, Michelle. If they’ve given me all I’ve asked for I’m ready to sign.”
“I do love how easy you are,” Michelle said handing him a pen.
“It’s not fair when you say things like that to me,” he said shaking his head as he signed where indicated. “It gives the wrong impression.”
She watched him, instead of focusing on his body, or his eyes, or the constant aura around him. Michelle imagined what she would spend her bonus on. Cain was a huge client for the firm and Michelle was the only lawyer he would work with. Signing his ten-million-dollar contract was a huge deal.
“What are you thinking about?” Cain asked, her as he handed the thick contract back.
“Shoes,” she replied with a smile. “There are these Manalo’s that I’ve had my eye on for a while. Black heels with straps. I’m going to get them the second we’re done here.”
“Why don’t I come with you?” he asked. “I’d happily buy you anything you wanted. I’d kill to see that smile on your face.”
Michelle failed to suppress her smile. She shook her head. He was too smooth, too confident, too used to getting whatever he wanted. And that power of his was surrounding and wafting over her, a perfume scent of fire and ash and something metallic. When he talked to her like that, the aura around him would flare up like someone had thrown gasoline on hot coals.
What are you? She wondered as she stared at the Norse Viking God in front of her. Where does all that power come from?
But she would never say the words out loud. If she asked him that, he would want to know how she knew and then what would she say? Would she tell her million-dollar contract holder that she was a witch? Should she tell him that she knew spells and magic, that she could sense the aura of every living thing from the President down to a small dormouse? No, it was her secret and she cherished it. She wasn’t telling anyone.
Magic didn’t run in her family. Michelle didn’t come from a long line of witches. In fact, it was exactly the opposite. She was different from everyone she knew. No one else could see the aura that surrounded the living, no one else could separate truth from lies just by looking into the speaker's eyes. No one else could converse with the spirits of trees and rivers or see the future in the stars like she could.
Magicals like her and Cain were incredibly rare. He was only the third she had ever met. The second had been a sinister looking woman on an airplane. She and Michelle had recognized each other, but the woman had only glared at Michelle and shook her head. She clearly hadn’t wanted to talk and Michelle had respected that. The first had been an old woman named Maria who worked at the local library when Michelle was a little girl. She had taught Michelle everything she knew, not that it was much.
Cain was hot, but the truth was, Michelle didn’t really know anything about him. She knew his professional life intimately, but that was it. Other than the occasional bit of flirty banter in her office, she and Cain were strangers. His aura showed him to be very powerful, possibly more powerful than she was. It was too dangerous, she and Cain could never be more than attorney and client.
“Any ticket to any game, you just call and it’s yours. I’ll put an entire club box aside for you and anyone you want, assuming it’s not a date, of course. But if you have a nephew or a niece tha
t loves hockey, you should bring them.”
“Thank you, I might just take you up on that,” Michelle said. She had become a huge hockey fan since working with Cain and she went to as many games as she could. She had never taken him up on his offer for the club box. The truth was, she didn’t want to sit up in some isolated box sipping champagne and making polite small talk. She liked to be close to the action. She liked to sit right on the ice, behind the plastic barrier where she could scream and yell at the opposing team with the rest of the fans.
The contract signed, Cain sat back in his chair and let out a long sigh. “I always feel better when that’s done,” he said. “It’s like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders. Now I can focus on my training without having to worry about all this.”
“Good, you should never have to worry about the paperwork. That’s my job. You just focus on winning.”
“I’m having a party at my place tonight to celebrate the contract,” Cain said leaning forward and straightening the nameplate on her desk. “Please tell me you’ll come. Your name will be on the list. It’ll be at the top of the list. You’ll be ushered right in and given a glass of whatever it is you want. There will be a lot of people there and not all of them will be hockey players.”
“But most of them will be hockey players, right?” she asked.
“Since when don’t you like hockey players?” he countered. He stood up and said. “I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow. I hope you don’t disappoint me.”
He left, making his way to the waiting room where his entourage rose and followed him out of the building like baby ducks following their mother. She didn’t have any plans tomorrow night, unless sitting on her couch watching Scandal and drinking wine counted as a plan. Maybe she would go to the party. She knew how to look without touching, she could keep Cain Samson an arm's reach away.
Chapter Two
The walls of the house were vibrating from the music. Samantha Ronson was behind a set of turntables and Cain’s dining room had been turned into a dance floor. Hockey players and models moved together, grinding and dancing with the beat of the music, full glasses in hand.
In the kitchen Cain was uncorking bottles of champagne and handing them to giggling women. His penthouse was filled with people. Everyone was smiling for selfies and posting them to Instagram with the hashtag #samsonbash. His publicist was roaming around snapping pics and getting quotes. Even when he wasn’t working Cain Samson was still working.
All he needed now was Michelle to show up. He made his way over to the front door. He couldn’t get two steps without people slapping him on the back and congratulating him on his new contract. It took him forever to get anywhere, but he wasn’t complaining. At the door he heard the siren cry of several beautiful girls begging to get in. They stood behind the bouncers stretching out their arms past them, towards him.
He scanned the faces of the girls in the hallway, but didn’t recognize any of them. They looked like duplicates, thin blonde girls with long straight hair, black eyeliner and matching short skirts with tall boots. None of them were Michelle. Her dark skin, curly hair, and fantastically curvy physique would have stood out from that crowd.
He smiled and waved at the girls, but turned away without letting any of them in. The house was already crowded and if there were too many people the cops would show up, declare the whole party a fire hazard and kick everyone out,
Cain wasn’t ready for the party to be over. The whole party was just an excuse to see Michelle out of the office. Nothing he had tried before had worked. He had offered to take her to the nicest restaurants in town, fully-paid vacations anywhere she wanted to go, shopping trips, even the movies, but she had always responded with a smile and a no.
So he was her client. So what? He didn’t care. She was interesting and enticing and smart. She was funny and hot. She was so very, very hot. Every woman Cain met fell at his feet, everyone but her. He could see that she liked him. She liked their flirty interactions, but something was holding her back. He was hoping to find out what it was at this party.
“Why so glum, chum?” his friend and trainer, Brock Thaddeus, asked as he wrapped his arm around Cain’s neck and squeezed before letting go. “Looking for someone?”
“No,” Cain said shaking his head.
“Good, because there is plenty of talent here,” he watched a girl shimmy on the dance floor, her skirt rising dangerously up her legs as she moved. Cain nodded, there were a lot of beautiful women here, but the one he wanted was still missing.
No one knew about his feelings for Michelle. Cain Samson got everything he wanted, women included. His friends would have just told him to move on and leave Michelle behind. They would have taken him to the clubs to find a replacement. But he didn’t want a weak imitation of Michelle, he wanted the real thing.
“You finally ready to let the beast out of its cage?” Cain asked.
Brock let out a long sigh and said, “My divorce has been finalized. I am officially on the market.” He looked around, his eyes jumping from woman to woman as he surveyed the room. Cain did the same thing, it looked like Michelle was going to be a no-show. He would need to find someone else to keep him warm that night.
“Let’s get drunk,” Cain said. He grabbed three shot glasses and like moths to a flame they were almost immediately surrounded by five giggling women. They were each wearing high heels and seemed to always be on the verge of tipping over.
They tossed back their shots. The girls gave out a loud a woo-hoo and raised their arms over their heads. It was only a few seconds before they started chanting for another.
“How about a body shot?” one girl asked. She had long fake hair, sharp pointed nails, and teeth that were a little bit too white. She leaned onto Cain, her hand tracing down his chest as she licked her lips. She was right on top of him, pushing her body against his. But Cain didn’t feel anything when he looked at that woman, she was trying too hard.
“No one’s saying no to that,” Brock said, sweeping his hand over the table and knocking empty cups to the floor. The girl let her hand linger on Cain’s chest and gave him a cloying smile as she hopped up on the table and laid down on her back.
Cain poured a shot of whiskey onto her stomach and then leaned down and quickly drank it back. He could taste the salty sweat of her skin and even though he wasn’t attracted to her, he couldn’t stop his body from reacting.
“One for my friend, and the best trainer I could ask for,” this girl wasn’t what he wanted, but Brock was looking for someone so Cain pulled his friend over and poured another shot. Brock took his time, licking the girl’s stomach and making her shiver and giggle as he drank the bitter liquid.
“OMG,” another girl said. “You’re Brock Thaddeus! I loved your workout routine. I dropped two whole sizes from doing that.”
“I do what I can,” Brock said with a casual shrug. He turned towards the girl and smiled down at her. Meanwhile, the body shot girl was pawing at Cain’s shirt.
“Come over here, sexy,” she said pulling him closer. She was sitting up on the table and she pulled him so he was standing between her legs.
“You’re really good at that,” her voice was slurring and it looked like she was having trouble focusing her eyes.
“Good at what? Shots? I’m not sure that’s really a skill,” Cain countered. She was falling all over him. Her hands racing over his chest and sometimes going even lower.
She licked her lips and said, “I’m a huge fan of yours.”
“Really, you’re into hockey?”
“Totally, I love it.”
“What other hockey players do you like?’
“Um...” she said, blinking furiously. “I don’t even know any other players. Only you. You are the best, after all.”
“Yeah, but it’s a team sport,” he restrained himself from rolling his eyes. He wasn’t into this girl. She was just another starfucker. She didn’t care about him or hockey. All she cared about was being retweeted, upp
ing her Instagram follower count and scoring a part on a reality show. Cain was many things, but he was not interested in being a rung on some girl’s ladder to fame.
“Please, don’t let me interrupt. I just heard there was whiskey in here,” his heart stopped at Michelle’s sweet voice.
He whipped his head around to see her. She was standing in the doorway wearing a tight black dress that hugged her hips in all the right places. Whenever he saw her at the firm she was always wearing suits and collared shirts. Her clothes were impeccably tailored, but modest. Now she stood in front of him in something that she would never wear to work. He didn’t think it possible for her to get even hotter, but here was the proof right in front of him.
Cain pulled himself away from the body shot girl. She tried to cling to him, but he managed to pry her hands off his shirt. He stumbled over a red solo cup and a beautiful smirk appeared on Michelle’s face.
“You came,” he said, his voice a little breathless. His heart was pounding. He felt like he had just run a marathon.
“I don’t think that girl on the table was ready for you to leave,” she said glancing back at the pouting girl who was still sitting on the table with her arms crossed. She was wearing a furious frown and glaring at Michelle.
“She’s fine,” Cain said with a wave of his hand. He didn’t know that other girl and he certainly wasn’t interested in her. He was in a room filled with party girls and models, but Michelle was the only girl he could see. “What can I get you to drink?”
“I will have your best whiskey, straight up,” she said.
He nodded and walked over to a high cabinet. He reached far into the back and pulled out a bottle of Lagavulin. “This up to your standards?”
“Absolutely. I didn’t know you had such good taste,” she said and then she bit her bottom lip and a surge of electricity pulsed through his veins. Fire. There was always fire within him. An unending burning fire in the pit of his stomach always threatening to overtake him. It was a roaring flame of passion stoked by Michelle biting that perfect lip of hers.
