Opal's Wish: Book Four of The Crystal Warriors Series

by Maree Anderson

  “Tea, please,” Yara said and Opal nodded agreement.

  “You two get to know each other,” Mickey said. “I need to get these sorted and into the freezer. PJ has been more than generous this time.” She shuffled from the bench, grabbed the pizzas, and headed deeper into the spacious kitchen.

  Faced with the kind of situation she did her best to avoid, Opal finished off her cookie. But it was a vain attempt to delay the inevitable… unless she could conduct this interview via text message.

  She eyed Yara beneath her lashes as she dusted cookie crumbs from her fingers. Yara looked older than her nineteen years. And despite her easy smile when she caught Opal observing her, there was an air of weariness about her—the kind you often saw in young people forced to grow up too soon. The world hadn’t completely beaten her down, however. Her nails were clipped ultra-short and the chapped skin of her hands showed she was no stranger to hard work, but she’d still taken time to apply a swipe of raspberry pink gloss to her lips, and a hint of eyeliner that emphasized her deep brown eyes.

  Opal admired that. She’d stopped bothering with cosmetics years ago. She shifted in her seat and wondered how to start.

  Yara was brave enough to speak up first, which increased Opal’s respect for her even more. “Your neighbor… Peter?”

  Opal nodded.

  “He told me you have a fulltime house cleaning round and need someone to take it over temporarily.”

  “Th-Th-That’s r-r-right.” Opal massaged the tense muscles at the nape of her neck and tried to relax. God. This was going to be excruciating.

  To her credit, Yara’s only reaction was a slow blink. “He mentioned there was a chance it might become permanent—that I might end up taking over your clients.”

  Opal nodded again. And wondered what else Peter had seen fit to divulge… only to mentally chide herself for being mean-spirited. She couldn’t fault him for hoping to ease what he had to have known would be a stressful interview.

  “Don’t worry,” Yara said, her gaze turning earnest and her lips flattening into a thin, serious line. “He didn’t reveal why you need me to fill in for you. Or why you might need to take up the reins again. And it’s none of my business anyway. I need a job. And from what Peter’s told me, I believe the hours you work would be perfect for me. Ditto with the area being on a major bus route.” She exhaled a long, shaky breath. “I’ll work hard. I’m reliable—truthfully I can’t afford to be anything else. I’ll look after your clients as though they were my own, Opal. And if whatever you’re doing turns out to be temporary, I hope I’ll have impressed you enough that you would consider taking me on and increasing your client base.”

  Speech over, Yara grabbed a floppy tote from the floor by her feet and rifled through it, extracting a cardboard folder. “My references,” she said.

  Opal chewed her lip as she read through the letters. Impressive. She really liked this girl. She felt her lips curving into a smile, and when Yara responded in kind, it felt good. Right. “G-G-Got some p-p-paper?” she asked.

  Yara snagged a notebook from her tote and rummaged for a pencil. She passed them over and watched silently while Opal started to sketch. A choked sound was followed by a hesitant question. “Are you drawing me a map? With your clients’ houses?”

  Opal glanced up. “Yes.”

  “Does this mean—?” Yara couldn’t finish. Her hand fluttered at her throat, like she couldn’t believe what was happening.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve got the job?”

  Opal scribbled what she couldn’t manage to say aloud on a blank page: You’ve got the job. Same rate as I charge. Any tips are yours. Need to show you the route & introduce you to my clients etc. If you work with me next week we’ll split my earnings, then you can take over. OK with you?

  She held the page up for Yara to read.

  “Oh my God,” Yara said. “Oh my God!” And she leaped from her seat to hug Opal so tightly that Opal could barely breathe.

  “Did you hear that, Mickey?” Yara released Opal to stand there, hugging herself and bouncing on her toes with delight. “I got the job!”

  “I heard it,” Mickey said, shooting a fond glance at the excited girl. “Good going, Yara.” She bought over a tray of tea things and set it on the table before leveling her gaze at Opal. “You won’t regret this decision, Opal. Yara’s a great kid. She’ll work her butt off for you and she won’t let you down.”

  Yara collapsed onto her seat and blotted her face with the hem of her cheerful floral print blouse.

  Mickey patted her shoulder and poured her a mug of tea. Almost as an afterthought, she added two sugars. “Here. Drink up. If it’s too sweet, too bad.”

  “What’d I miss?” Max sauntered into the room and headed straight for Mickey to drop a kiss on her upturned cheek.

  “Good news,” Mickey said.

  “I got the job!” Yara reached for her mug and cradled it in her palms. “I start Monday.”

  “That’s fantastic, sweetheart.” Max beamed at her and then switched his focus to Opal, who couldn’t help basking in his approval.

  She bent her head to concentrate on finishing the map, and labeled each box with a street number. Finally, she dug out her mobile phone and neatly listed all her clients’ names, addresses and contact numbers, along with their allocated hours and days. When she’d finished, she passed the notebook to Yara.

  Yara set aside her tea to scan the information. She closed the notebook and clutched it to her chest like it was the most precious object in the world. “You don’t know how much this means to me,” she whispered.

  Opal spotted Max and Mickey exchanging glances, and thought she had a very good idea what this job meant to Yara. She smiled gently to show she understood, and had just raised her own mug to her lips when another person strode into the kitchen.

  “Excuse me for interrupting,” he said.

  Danbur.

  A shirtless Danbur.

  He was swoon-worthy at the best of times, but now, when his torso glistened with sweat? The sight of him turned her giddy as a schoolgirl.

  She wasn’t the only one. Yara goggled at him and patted her chest like she needed to calm her heart. Mickey sighed. Gustily. And Opal’s mind projected a “Hands off, he’s mine!” type of warning that for an awful few seconds she believed she might have screeched out loud. She quickly ducked her head to hide her expression.

  “I have finished the task you set, Max,” he said. “It went quickly with Bob and Owen’s help.”

  “Good news that Bob pitched in,” Mickey said. “He must be having a good day.”

  “The discipline the sword kata requires helps quiet the mind. That is most beneficial for Bob, I think.”

  Max grunted. “I’ve noticed an improvement the past coupl’a days. He’s not so manic and he’s eating regular again. If ya could encourage him to keep on with the katas we’d ’preciate it.”

  “I will do my best. Is there anything else you would have me do this afternoon? Pieter needs my assistance but I can stay a little longer.”

  “There’s one thing I could use a bit of help with.” Max headed for the door and Danbur followed him out.

  “Wow,” Opal heard Yara say. “Now I understand what girls mean when they talk about certain guys being guaranteed panty-droppers. I swear I had to check mine were still where they were supposed to be.”

  “Yara!” Mickey sounded scandalized. And then she said, “Me, too,” and the two of them dissolved into giggles.

  Opal couldn’t blame them for drooling over Danbur. But she could—and did—blame him for acting like she was invisible. The upside was that she now had confirmation the sex really had meant nothing to him. And she knew exactly where she stood.

  Yeah. Who was she trying to kid? It hurt like a fist to the gut. God. It hurt so much that she could hardly bear it. Even so there was a part of her that was fiercely glad for a night she would never forget. Just like she would never forget him. But now it was tim
e for her to stop looking backward, living in the past. It was time to move on and embrace the future.

  ~~~

  Danbur finished assisting Max with the chores and headed for the showers. When he entered the bathroom, the two men present broke off a lewd conversation involving past bed-partners. Danbur said nothing. His disgust spoke louder than mere words in this instance. One of the men gulped and fumbled with his shirt buttons. The other scrubbed a towel through his hair. Both decided they had other places to be. In a hurry.

  Danbur turned the shower jet to full cold, stripped, and stepped beneath the spray. The chill water needled his scalp, his face, his skin. And after a while the cold seemed to penetrate through to his very bones until his whole body throbbed and ached.

  But this pain was easy to ignore. The pain he endured whenever he traveled any great distance from Sera, less so, but he was used to physical hardship. And until recently he’d believed nothing could match the trauma of the centuries he’d spent trapped in his namesake crystal. But he’d been wrong. Even that nightmare of an existence paled in comparison to the raw agony of seeing Opal sitting in the kitchen—wanting to go to her, touch her, beg her forgiveness, and knowing that for her sake he could not. He still didn’t know how he’d gathered the strength to act as though she meant nothing to him, as though she didn’t matter….

  As though he’d simply seduced her, fucked her, moved on.

  She’d hidden her emotions as best she could but he knew her too well, too intimately. And witnessing that dying spark of hope in her eyes, and the slump of her shoulders as she hunched to protect herself—from him!—had been like a spear-thrust to the chest, twisting and lodging deep.

  He despised himself for hurting her, this vulnerable and damaged woman who’d suffered so much, yet still had love aplenty to lavish on her daughter… that same little girl Danbur suspected was a by-blow of abuse Opal had suffered when she’d been little more than a child herself. It couldn’t be easy, raising a child born of rape, seeing harsh reminders of your abuser in that child’s face or eyes or hair, yet loving her unconditionally. None would have blamed Opal for giving the child up to be raised by others. It would have been easier, perhaps, to forget and move on had she done so.

  Danbur admired the woman Opal had become, even as he mourned her suffering. And he desired her more strongly each day. She was strong, whereas he’d been weak, unable to resist coaxing her from her shell. But ultimately she had taken control of her destiny. She’d humbled him when she’d first broken the barriers she’d erected around her heart and responded to him as a woman to a man she desired. And when nightmares of returning to his crystal prison had stolen his sanity, she’d come to him again, offering him the gift of her body and a soul-deep connection he’d never found with any other woman.

  She was heartbreakingly brave, his Opal. Beautiful and bright and full of hidden fiery depths like the fire opal for which she’d been named. And if she had been the one to call him from the crystal….

  He could not think of that now. All he knew was that she deserved better than to be repaid with silence and disinterest—however feigned those reactions might be on his part.

  She deserved more. She deserved so much more than the little he could give her.

  When the cold had thoroughly numbed his skin if not his despairing heart, Danbur shut off the water, dried himself and yanked on his clothes. He took his leave of Max and Mickey, and strode off down the street, heading for Pieter’s house.

  During the lengthy walk he made peace with his decision. Or so he thought. But as he passed Opal’s property he couldn’t help glancing up, half-expecting to see her standing in the doorway, watching out for him.

  Hah. Such a fool he was.

  He shoved open the front door to Pieter’s house and strode into the lounge, only to see another female with the power to wring his already battered heart. Sera. Sitting on the floor with Pieter, playing the spelling game with the board and the little tiles with assorted letters that they both enjoyed.

  Gods. Would this day’s tortures never end? He threw himself full-length onto the couch and draped an arm over his eyes.

  Pieter murmured something about a pot of tea and Danbur heard him leave the room. He didn’t need to explain his state of mind to the old sorcerer—some small mercy at least.

  A rustle of movement…. Followed by a small body snuggling close to him on the couch. “I’m sorry you’re hurting, Dan,” Sera whispered. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Please, little one, just let me hold you awhile.” He curved an arm about her small form.

  She laid her head against his shoulder and he let her comfort him while thoughts of her, and her mother, and everything he would never have, drifted through his mind.

  Sera was resilient in the way young children often were. Given time he would be nothing but a vague figure from her past. And in time, Opal, too, would heal and forget him and move forward.

  He prayed that one day he could do the same. But he suspected he would spend the rest of eternity thinking of this little girl’s mother, reliving each and every encounter… wondering who Opal would eventually give her heart to. And forever wishing he could have been a part of her life.

  Chapter Sixteen

  She’d survived her first day.

  Opal poured herself a glass of water and dropped onto couch. She needed to wind down a bit before—hopefully—catching an early night. The first installment specified by her contract had hit her account and everything was go-go-go. Today had been full-on. Tomorrow would be worse. Emilie had confided that Magda wasn’t wholly convinced the stylist was on the right track with Opal’s “look” and she wanted test shots done tomorrow. Opal needed to bring her A-game. She hoped she wouldn’t end up sleeping poorly, tossing and turning, imagining worst case scenarios…. Like not forging the kind of connection with her photographer that produced memorable photos.

  She gave herself a mental shake and a stern lecture. She wasn’t going to dwell on all the things that could screw up this life-changing opportunity. Desiree had reminded her that second-guessing yourself, thinking too hard about what you were being asked to do in front of the camera, could be a model’s downfall. Opal needed to focus. She couldn’t afford distractions. And so she mentally shoved her doubts into a box, locked it, and threw away the key.

  Much like she’d done with Danbur. Not that the technique was working particularly well where he was concerned, because every time she closed her eyes, his was the face she saw. And when she drifted in that twilight zone between wakefulness and sleep, she could almost feel his lips on hers, his hands on her body, his cock inside her, stroking deep and hard and—

  God. Enough! She wasn’t going there right now—couldn’t afford to go there ever again if she harbored the slightest hope of getting over him any time soon.

  Opal bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to break the skin. Don’t think of him. Think of someone else. Desiree, for instance.

  She’d come over last Sunday as planned, and they’d spent a couple of hours minutely dissecting her date with Roth until, finally, Desiree had decided that if he asked her out again she’d accept. And if he let her pay for the outing without making a fuss, it could be the start of something beautiful. She’d even blushed at that last admission. And then she’d powered up her tablet and made Opal sit through a half dozen episodes of Top Models in the House, which could best be described as a mash-up of Big Brother and ANTM.

  “Nothing better to get you back in the game,” Desiree had insisted. And they’d both applauded and laughed—and yes, even cringed—over some of the wannabe supermodels’ antics. Not to mention bickered about the judges’ scoring of challenges, and rolled their eyes in mock horror at often totally unexpected social media scores proving how quickly the public could turn on a favorite.

  “I have a love-hate relationship with social media,” Desiree had grumbled. “But it’s a necessary evil these days, I guess.”

  Opal still pale
d at the mere thought that Magda might expect her to open a Twitter account. She didn’t “get” Twitter at all, even after Desiree’s painstaking attempts to explain its allure.

  Desiree had waved away Opal’s concerns, however. “Magda’s PA will hire you a social media coach—or some intern will Tweet stuff on your behalf. Don’t sweat it.”

  The evening had been just the confidence-booster Opal needed. Ditto with Desiree’s call last night to deliver a pre-first-day pep talk along the lines of, “Fake it and act like you’ve already made it. Show ’em you don’t give a shit about your stutter. If all else fails, smile. You’ll knock ’em dead.”

  Turned out Opal was a better actress than she’d believed. And smiling while going along with whatever anyone happened to want at the time, had proven her best defense when things got too overwhelming.

  She probed her cheeks and jaw experimentally. Yeow. She’d forgotten how painful holding a natural smile could be.

  She gulped the rest of her water, crawled to her feet, and wandered back into the kitchen to rinse the glass. Hard to believe so many days had passed in the blink of an eye. Last week had literally flown by. Not surprising given Opal been so caught up in the handover to Yara, fielding phone calls from Magda’s über-efficient PA, who kept checking in to insure everything was on track, and coping with the usual day-to-day routine with Sera, she’d barely had time to think. And of course, despite her best efforts, there had been a wrinkle with Yara taking over her clients—none other than Sienna Mitchell.

  Opal rolled her neck from side to side, and combed her fingers through her hair, tugging firmly on the ends. The sharp little pains made her wince… and vividly recall how tempted she’d been to yank out Sienna Mitchell’s fake blonde hair by the roots. It was a tribute to Yara’s careful and expert handling of a difficult situation, that by the end of the week Sienna had done an astonishing about-face, morphing into what Opal had teasingly described as the ultimate Yara fan-girl.

  “Believe me, that woman’s attitude is nothing I haven’t seen before,” Yara had said, shrugging off Opal’s praises for her patience and politeness in the face of what could only be termed downright rudeness. Not to mention a tantrum worthy of a spoiled child after Sienna tried to rearrange Yara’s hours and hadn’t gotten her way. “The head janitor at the school I worked for? Now she was a real hardass.”