by Riley Moreno
Finn Macmillan poked his head out of the opening flap of the tent, casting his green-eyed gaze around the group of Ren Fair goers that were still milling around, some were dressed up in period garb, obviously home-made, while others just wore jeans and a t-shirt or shorts. The Whitebridge Faire drew a wide range of people. Some coming to enjoy the novelty of watching knights on horseback, or being served a tankard of ale by a scantily clad Wench at The Tavern, the only bar on the premises.
Others came to disappear. They could put on their costume, show up, and be whoever they wanted to be. A king, a knight, a maiden. It didn't matter as long as they didn’t have to be themselves for a little while.
He heaved a sigh of relief when he finished scanning the crowd and didn’t see a short, deliciously curvy minx with long brown hair and dark chocolate eyes a dragon could happily drown in. Not to mention about a mile of sweetly curved cleavage on view for anyone to ogle that almost made him swallow his tongue in the middle of his story.
What was she thinking walking around like that! He knew there were several security guards patrolling the fair dressed up in brown leather pants and matching vest, not to mention a baton, handcuffs, and a Taser if necessary. Still, he thought that maybe he should go over and tell her himself that she needed to cover up before she drove some sex-crazed man crazy with her delicious looking body so obviously on display.
Right, that’s why I want to go over there and find her. To protect her. That’s all. He shook his head. Nothing at all to do with the fact that I was so hard when I saw her standing there watching me, it was all I could do not to grab her, pull her into the tent, and see what little she was hiding under the rest of that dress.
Finn had no problem with women. His natural charisma, and something else, something only he and his friend Sebastian understood, drew women like a starving man to a buffet. But Finn had rules, and he made sure the women he chose knew those rules. In all his almost five hundred years, he had never lacked for a bedmate, although recently he begun to lose interest in the women that flocked around him. They seemed all the same to him. Flat, one-dimensional people that left him bored and filled with discontent the moment after his release. Except Beatrice. He couldn’t help but notice the spark every time he saw her.
That’s why he relished his arrangement with Sebastian, the only other shape shifter employed at Whitebridge. Finn had discovered Bastian’s secret almost eight years ago, when he had first joined the company. To Finn, it seemed like yesterday when he had seen the large, dark haired man with the haggard, desolate expression walk onto the fair grounds. To him, it had seemed like seeing two images, one layered directly over the other. One of the men, and one of a large brown bear with tan markings like a sunburst over its chest.
It was one of his many talents as a dragon shifter that he could see others of his kind. Could see their secrets, their other, hidden selves. He could see inside of them. It was one of the reasons that dragon’s lived solitary existences. Other shifters resented and mistrusted them, sometimes even hunting them or driving them away. Finn understood. When you were raised from birth that secrecy is a virtue, it was hard to countenance inviting someone in that destroyed all that.
He had lived for so many lonely years, that he had almost forgotten what it was like to have a true friend, someone you could trust. Surprisingly, he had found that in the bear shifter. They were compatible in other ways. Both had been forced to repress their alpha tendencies, and as a result were extremely dominant when it came to sexual interactions.
Finn thought again of the luscious Beatrice King. He had watched her for years, since she had first joined the fair, but almost immediately rejected her despite his body’s intense reaction to her. She had been incredibly timid, almost painfully shy at first. Too timid to accept what he and Sebastian had to offer. Over time, she grew more confident, and more often, especially over the past year, he had caught her looking at him with desire swirling like a whirlpool in her dark eyes. But as soon as his gaze met hers, she would turn away, although less quickly of late.
He felt his body tense at the thought of her stretched out and ready for him. Or kneeling in front of him, her dark eyes alight with want and surrender, waiting for his command. Maybe it was finally time to talk to little miss King after all.
Chapter 2
For the thousandth time that morning, Beatrice tugged up the top edge of the deep red corset barely covering her ample curves. The color was so deep it was almost black, and made her tan skin look delicately golden next to it, although the skin now exposed by the over-revealing top was several shades paler than the rest of her chest and arms.
As a serving maiden at The Tavern, it was her job to bring pints of ale in oversized wooden mugs and giant platers of various roasted meats and vegetables to guests. She usually loved her job, loved working with the wonderful people at the fair, the happy visitors, and getting to play dress up and forget about her normal, empty life back in the small Midwest town she called home. But all day she had felt off, and today her job at the fair felt like just that, a job, and she was already dreaming of going back to her small apartment, taking a hot bath with her new lavender oil, and curling up in bed with a nice book.
Just before the crowds started filing in for lunch or an afternoon beer, they had run out of the wooden trays they used to serve the food, and Bea had been sent on a scavenger hunt, looking for replacements. She had checked the back supply tent, the offices, and the Blacksmith’s tent, all with no luck.
She was headed over to the field where they put on the daily tournament shows in the hopes of finding some extra wooden practice shields to use as makeshift platters she could abscond with for the day. As Beatrice neared the big, open area she was met with the metallic clangs and occasional oofs that meant the ‘knights’ were practicing, warming up for the jousting, sword fighting, and other various manly events that took place during the Whitebridge Faire Tournament. It was the main attraction of the fair, and most of the customers would willingly pay the extra forty five dollars to get a good seat watching the men in armor batter each other with fake swords.
Beatrice caught sight of them as she rounded a stack of wooden boxes with a dirty beige canvas tarp haphazardly thrown over it. She paused a moment, struck by the grace of their movements as they struck, parried, and ducked all in the shiny metal armor that was the classic knight costume.
She knew it wasn’t real armor, but it made a very convincing show as they danced around one another, the chainmail swaying with every movement as the shoulder plates caught and threw back a burst of light reflected from the brightening mid-morning sun.
Beatrice knew it was an antiquated thought, but she couldn't help the primal shiver at the sight of all those big, sweaty men acting so….manly. One in particular held her eye. He was bigger than the others. Not taller, at just over six feet, but broader and more heavily muscled.
He moved with a slow, sensual grace that was deadly. No wasted movements, and a patience that made Beatrice shiver again. She had known Sebastian for three years, and he was the other Whitebridge employee, besides Finn, that frequently made appearances in her fantasies.
Sometimes, when she couldn’t decide who to choose, she imagined what it would be like to have both. She didn’t have to stretch her imagination that far, having had a real-life encounter with just how incredible that could be.
She burned with a hot blush as the memory came unbidden. The incident, as she called it to herself, had happened just over a year ago. She had been working late after a party, finishing up cleaning the big tent after working a twelve hour day understaffed and overrun with drunken fair goers.
Beatrice had been taking the last of the garbage bags out to the dumpster behind the tent, when she heard a squeal quickly followed by a soft growl and rustling of the underbrush maybe twenty feet away. She cautiously walked to the edge of the small thicket of trees that ran along the backs of the tents, worried that someone might need help. At least, the squeal had sou
nded human, and distinctly female.
Just as she was about to open her mouth to ask if anyone needed help, she came upon an opening in the thick brush, the moon like a spotlight as her gaze fell on the scene unfolding in front of her.
There was in fact a woman, and she looked anything but distressed as she had been surrounded by both Finn and Sebastian. Both men giving her their undivided attention. Beatrice felt frozen, her feet stuck as she voyeuristically watched them, unable to look away.
Beatrice shook her head, dispelling the arousing image and finding herself staring at the tarp covered boxes, probably drooling like an idiot. She quickly swiped her finger along her lower lip just to make sure.
“Uh, do you need something?” The soft, deep voice made Beatrice jump, and she flipped around to meet…a chest. A very nice chest, covered now in a loose linen colored shirt with the laces dangling instead of the armored costume she had been admiring him in earlier.
“Um…Ummmm.” She looked up, past the impressive swell of his shoulders, up the side of his neck, temporarily distracted by a bead of sweat making its way leisurely down a path that she could so easily picture her lips following. She tried to meet his flashing amber eyes, but her heart spiked alarmingly and she settled on his chin. That seemed safe enough to her, trying to battle the blush she knew was even now filling her cheeks with a peachy glow.
“I am…I’m from the Tavern…I just need…”
“You’re Beatrice, I know.” She briefly allowed her eyes to travel up just enough to watch the side of his full mouth tip up in a charming grin. “We’ve only worked together for three years.”
“Right, of course…” She took a breath, get a grip, Bea! She felt guilty, like he had somehow read her thoughts and knew exactly what she was thinking. Casting about for some way to salvage her rapidly deteriorating nerves, she spied the wooden boxes still stacked behind her. Ahah!
“I was just grabbing some practice shields from these…ahhh! Achoo!” She had grabbed the edge of the canvas, flipping it off the crates and getting a face full of dust as the cover swept out of her grasp and onto the grass at her feet.
She doubled over as a sudden attack of sneezes swamped her, finally regaining her breath, if not her pride, as the sixth one finished. Or was it seventh. She had lost count as she’d desperately covered her mouth, her eyes watering madly from the onslaught of dust particles.
“Are you okay?” A warm hand lightly touched the back of her arm. This was just perfect, she thought.
“Yeah, I think so. Thanks.” She used the corner of the brown skirt of her dress to wipe off some of the moisture that still lingered around her eyes.
“No problem. Are you sure? I can bring those practice shields by the Tavern, the wooden ones righ…” His voice cut off suddenly as she righted herself, still trying to knock the dust off her costume.
“What? Oh, okay. Thanks, that would be great.” She finally looked at Sebastian, realizing he still hadn't said anything. She stopped as she noticed his gaze had fixed somewhere below her chin, his amber eyes dilated and they burned with a molten copper that hadn't been there a few moments ago.
Her stomach dropped, and she dreaded looking down at the spot that had him so suddenly fascinated, fearing the worst. She steeled herself and cast her dark gaze downward, meeting nothing but a large expanse of tanned flesh tipped with rosy nipples, the cords that were supposed to be securing the corset dangling uselessly, the slips of fabric themselves folded and bunched at her waist.
Her entire body flashed white hot as embarrassment swept over her like an inferno. The stupid thing must have been shaken loose when she was sneezing. She grasped the front panel, trying to pull it up and over her breasts, which was challenging as they were more than a handful.
Finally giving up, she wrapped both arms around her chest, creating a mound of cleavage but at least she was slightly more covered. She tried to think of something, anything to say to break the tension that was suddenly molasses thick between them, but the expression on his handsome, sharply featured face stalled her.
His dark brows were now lowered over his eyes, and the skin over his jaw pulled taught by the clenching of his teeth. With a small squeak, and thinking she might just die right then and there from embarrassment, she turned and ran toward the nearest tent, wanting more than anything to be out of his sight. She swore she could still feel his burning gaze like a brand between her shoulder blades as she ducked through the back opening of the tent and disappeared.
Once in the safety of the dimly lit tent, she could finally release the breath that had turned to fire in her lungs. Of all the things, to happen in front of all the people. She huffed out another breath, this time one of irritation. She was a grown woman, surely she was old enough to be able to deal with this.
She was always envious of those women who could shake off an uncomfortable situation with a joke and a chuckle. She groaned, how was she going to face Sebastian again. Not only was she absolutely mortified, but the look burning in his golden gaze had been unmistakable. She could easily picture it, his eyes burning with desire. For her!
She shivered as she remembered them shifting from their normal amber to molten copper, reminding her of what else she had seen in that little patch of forest the year before.
After finishing with the woman, who had walked away on shaky legs, obviously extremely satisfied, Beatrice had watched them still, too afraid to move and draw attention to herself now that they weren’t so…occupied.
As devastatingly sensual it had been to watch them both pleasure the woman, what she had seen afterwards had truly taken her breath away. One minute, two men had been there, standing as the cool white light of the moon lovingly traced every muscle, and then…Well, she still wasn't exactly sure what she had seen, but she knew that where there had been two men was now a giant brown bear, that had turned and placidly walked further into the trees before disappearing entirely in the shadows.
She had been left staring at the most magnificent creature she had ever seen. Its body as large as her car, it glowed a pale pearlescent cream in the dim moonlight, black markings impossible to decipher trailed along its side and up its long, sleek neck tipped with a large, diamond shaped head with glowing green eyes and a black, pointed muzzle.
A soft scream caught in her throat as she watched it unfold its wings, looking paper thin and incredibly delicate as they slowly, almost silently, unfurled to either side of its lithe body, easily doubling its width before crouching. In one powerful leap, it launched itself up into the warm night air. It too disappeared in the midnight shadows, but the image was burned indelibly onto Beatrice’s mind.
She had spent a lot of time thinking about that night, as impossible as it was to believe. Had time to grow used to the idea that there was more to the world than she knew, and she held that knowledge close to her heart. It was one of the reasons she continued to work at the fair. Finn and Sebastian had many secrets, but so did Beatrice. In fact, she had theirs.
Chapter 3
Beatrice cast a quick look around the tent, but it seemed empty. She looked down at her dress and wished she hadn’t. Not only did it remind her of the ridiculous farce with Sebastian a little bit ago, but thanks to her mad dash to the tent, the corset panels were hopelessly tangled, and the cords had knotted together making it impossible for her to untie the thing without taking the costume off altogether.
Bending down to grab the edge of the dress, she scrunched the fabric up until it reached her waist, shimmying her hips to slide the dress the rest of the way off. Her hands now crossed over head, fabric bunched in each fist, she gave a big tug to get it the rest of the way, but it didn't move.
“Shit.” Her curse was muffled by the layers of fabric enclosing her as she gave the material another sharp jerk, trying to get it to come loose. she could feel it stuck tight by the extra fabric of the top part of the dress still bunched around her middle. She let go of the fabric to try again, but it stayed wrapped around her arms, trapp
ing her.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” She wiggled fiercely, starting to overheat in the warm confines of the dress, her arms still stuck above her head. “Oh my god. I’m trapped.” She continued to move her body like a snake trying to shed it’s skin, almost bending over double when she heard a soft and distinctly masculine cough coming from somewhere to her right. She froze.
“Hel…helloo?” She tried to ask, but it came out sound more like whhelphgo? as she caught a mouthful of fabric. She swore she could hear someone chuckling at her shoulder, and she quickly turned in what she thought was the right direction, spitting out the material.
“Hey, if someone’s there, can you give me a hand?” She wiggled again, trying to show who she hoped would be a good Samaritan the extent of her plight. “I’m stuck!”
“I can see that.” Came the smooth reply, laced with a heavy Irish accent that had her toes curling and stomach dropping at the same time. Oh no. Not him. Before Beatrice had a chance to say anything else a strong pair of big, very warm, masculine hands were on her hips, instantly stopping her jerky movements as she sucked in a sharp breath.
The hands, their touch somehow magnified by her accidental blindfold, dragged slowly across her exposed skin, stopping at the edge of the fabric now caught around her ribs, just under breasts.
His long fingers worked under the fabric until he could grasp the extra material of the corset and pull it loose. The moment stretched out, feeling like an eternity to Beatrice as she held her breath, staying as still as she could when all her body wanted to do was curl into the warm hands that moved torturously slow against her skin.
Finally, he tugged the last panel free and the rest of the skirt came off with surprising alacrity. Beatrice pulled the fabric in front of her now completely bare upper body, thankful for the sheer, lacy petticoats that kept her at least somewhat covered on the bottom.
