Hyde, an Urban Fantasy

by Lauren Stewart

  “I’m not panicking about sex,” she said, watching him, her eyes darting to his body. “I just think it needs to be with the right person.”

  “Wow, where you gonna find him?”

  She paused, staring at him, not letting him break eye-contact. “I already—”

  He threw out his hands and stood to get away from her. “No, no, no, no, no, little girl. Do not say what I think you were going to.”

  “Is it so impossible to imagine?” Her whisper became louder, more confrontational, more entrancing. “I think I’m ready, Mitch. Are you?” She moved closer, advancing on him like a cat—slowly, but with far too much confidence for his liking.

  What the hell? “Eden. Stop right there.” Damn it, why was he always finding himself in this situation with her. Or with Chastity. It was like the body in front of him had its sights set on an invisible target on his chest.

  “I want to—” She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. “I want it to be you. I’m ready for lesson five, Mitch.”

  He bristled at that name, but not because it was unpleasant. And that scared the shit out of him. He backed away, bumping into furniture but unwilling to take his eyes off her for a second. The rest of his body had a different opinion though. Every bit of him wanted to move forward and wrap itself around her, inside of her.

  “This is a bad idea, Eden. A really fucking bad idea.”

  She glanced at his crotch and blushed. “But it’s not impossible.”

  He rolled his eyes and cursed his body. His ass hit the edge of a table. “Not impossible, but . . . What happens after? If we do this?”

  She cocked her head to the side. “I don’t know. I guess we go back to being who we are.”

  Who the hell are we? “Is this about her? About being bad?”

  “Should I lie right now?”

  He shook his head.

  “This is about being honest. With myself. With you. And, yes, part of me is curious beyond what it would be like to really be with someone. It would be a huge bonus if she stopped showing up so often.”

  For once he was glad for her honesty. It didn’t help him decide if this was a good idea or not though. In fact, it made it a hell of a lot harder. “Just so we understand each other: I’m not the picket-fence kind of guy. If that’s what you’re looking for, you better keep looking.”

  “I said I was waiting for the right guy, not the perfect one.” She smirked.

  His body hummed. Maybe this was right for her, but what about him? What would I do after only one taste of her? He closed his eyes. Oh, shit. One taste. Shouldn’t have thought of that. Momentarily freed from his indecision, his thighs tensed and launched him towards her. He swept her up into his arms and slid them both onto the couch.

  She grunted as they hit, the full weight of his body on top of her, her eyes wide with surprise.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. The couch was soft, she was soft, but he was as hard as a steel post.

  She gave him a small, nervous grin and as much of a nod as her position allowed. “Yeah. Just . . . be gentle, okay?”

  He took a deep breath of the small amount of air between them, bringing her scent along with it. Gentle. Okay. Could he do that? Had he ever done that? “You can still change your mind.” God, he hoped she wouldn’t.

  “I want to.” Her face was flushed, her eyes bright and excited. She was so soft and receptive under him. Her body pressed against his, fitting with his like it had spent a lifetime there. “I’m just new at this.”

  He smiled at her beauty and lifted himself onto his hands, giving her a moment to breathe, hopefully not to reconsider. “Tell me something I don’t know.” He felt her body tighten, but not in a good way, under his.

  Her face changed—brow furrowed, eyes averted. “I—I never chose.”

  “Chose what?”

  “To do it. It was never a choice.”

  Oh, shit. Now his body tightened, matching hers.

  “They never gave me a choice,” she whispered.

  He pulled away with his eyes closed. “I didn’t know.”

  She brought one of her hands to his shirt, clutching it like she didn’t want him to move away. “How could you? It’s not something I’d tattoo on my forehead.”

  Balancing on one arm, he took the other and pried her hand off him. “I’m sorry.”

  “You didn’t do anything.”

  “But I did . . . with her.” He climbed off her, sitting by her legs on the edge of the couch. Nice fucking guy. He’d almost taken her on a frickin’ couch, for fuck’s sake! Her first time, her first willing time. Jesus, why doesn’t he just screw her in the backseat of his car? He didn’t do romance, but the least she deserved was a man who’d make an attempt.

  She sat up. “I sure know how to kill a mood, don’t I?” Her hand caressed his back. “I’m sorry.”

  “No need. It wasn’t right to begin with. We shouldn’t have even started. Not like this.”

  “I just wanted you to know that this”—she motioned to the two of them—“was a choice. I want to be here. With you.”

  He shook his head. “It’s too complicated right now. There’s too much going on.”

  She sighed, but didn’t move away. “So . . . am I off-limits again?”

  He felt his heart rate slow while he thought, all desire fading from his body, replaced with disgust at himself and sorrow for her. “I don’t know.” He twisted his head to look at her and saw tears brewing. “Not off-limits. Just a temporary reprieve.” Not wanting to see those tears crest her eyelids, he said, “You still have lessons three and four to work on.” Not that he actually knew what lessons three and four even were.

  “You wanna talk about it,” he asked the floor, not really wanting to hear what Eden would say, but wanting to be there for her. Hyde jabbed him in the gut, in the back, scraping at Mitch’s insides. He shivered. She was so fucking dangerous to him.

  “No. I think I said too much already. But thank you for not being afraid of me.”

  “Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?”

  “No one wants to know someone else’s pain or that they have darkness within them. But you . . . You make me feel like I don’t have to hide anything. So thank you.” Her hand curled around the nape of his neck, trying to turn his face back to her. He let her, part of him worried it had been Hyde’s decision and not his. She leaned forward and kissed him. Gently. Two lips on two lips.

  Hyde’s tug faded away, the strength of each pulse diminished with every connection of their lips. He’d never been kissed with such kindness. The idea of taking her harder, asking for more, didn’t appeal to him. That was new. He relaxed into her, lips separating only briefly, just to get a different angle, feel each other in another way.

  She opened her mouth wider, the tip of her tongue tasting him lightly. He held himself back, following her lead, not groping her with his large hands, but caressing her arm, her shoulder, the bone leading into the soft hollow at the base of her neck, to her jaw.

  The kiss held for decades, millennia, and neither of them seemed to want to move forward or stop. In the brief moments his mouth wasn’t on hers, he realized he was speaking, whispering words unfamiliar to him—words of passion, beauty, and a white-picket fence. All the things he wanted her to have. All the things he wanted to give her.

  She answered with her own. “Stop . . . talking . . . you’re going . . . to . . . regret . . . it later.”

  No, he didn’t think he would.

  Carter’s voice rang in from the foyer. “Hey! Don’t you ever lock your door?”

  Mitch pulled back and stood, gaping at Eden, waiting for her expression to change into embarrassment or regret. It didn’t. She looked like she’d just stepped out of an incredible dream, a smile dancing on those plump lips he now knew so well. She put her fingers to her lips slowly, just in time for Carter to enter the room.

  His eyes darted back and forth between them, a suspicious haze in them. “What’s going on?�
��

  “Hey, Scout. How was your date?” Patronizing tone thrown out to Carter, eyes drawn back like magnets to her. Damn it. He forced himself to look away.

  Carter glared at him. “Nice. It was really nice.”

  Mitch wondered if the sensation he felt on his lips was evident in their color or size. They still felt tingly and raw, as if every other nerve in his body had fallen silent or had all made a temporary move to his mouth. Did he look as flushed as she did?

  Wait. Was he actually embarrassed in front of this kid? That had to stop immediately. “You get lucky?”

  Carter’s mouth tightened. He glanced at Eden and then shrugged, probably assuming what he’d thought had been happening between her and Mitch couldn’t possibly have happened. Eden would never stoop so low. “No, I didn’t get lucky. I had to come back here,” he challenged.

  “Too bad. I’m getting a drink, anyone want one?” He high-tailed it into the kitchen, furious that he felt the need to escape. He heard murmurs of the conversation coming from the other room and tried very hard not to follow it.

  “. . . doing . . . was he . . .” in Carter’s irritated baritone.

  “. . . date? . . . sorry . . . thanks . . .” in Eden’s lighter pitch.

  Mitch started to hum. When that didn’t cover their voices, he broke out into song. If nothing else, his tone-deafness would scare them silent. “What’ll you do when you get lone—” Bad choice. “Ain’t no sunshine, when she’s—” Another bad choice. Jesus, why don’t men ever sing about anything but women? He flicked on the MP3 player built into the wall and turned it up high, sending out a violent boom of Eminem’s tortured soul that covered the sounds coming from the other room.

  “Perfect,” he grumbled when a female voice claimed to love the way Eminem lies.

  CHAPTER XXIX

  Mitch had finished his first beer and was grabbing another by the time Carter came into the kitchen. The men nodded to each other, and Mitch handed the guy a bottle. “I hope you brought some more with you, because I’m officially out.”

  “Why do I have to be here?”

  “Because I asked you to so politely.”

  Carter grunted. “She said you have a cage upstairs.”

  “I do.”

  “Should I ask why?”

  “Special order. She’ll be safe without being cuffed.” He nodded toward the living room. “Is she ready?”

  “She says she is.”

  “Wonderful. Let’s go up.”

  Carter followed him into the living room to where Eden was sitting on the couch, wrapped up in the throw blanket.

  Mitch kept his distance, not wanting to piss the guy off any more than necessary. He needed him. Eden would need someone to take care of her when Mitch couldn’t. It hurt to think about, but he knew there would be times when they both would change on the same night and he wouldn’t be able to be there for her. So, hopefully, her ex-boyfriend would be able to man-up and stay alert. At least in time to let her out of the cage.

  Eden stood and gave a weak smile. “I guess it’s time, huh?”

  She led them upstairs, the blanket trailing behind her.

  Carter gasped when he saw the cage.

  Mitch rolled his eyes. “What were you expecting? A dog carrier?”

  “No, I—” He was frozen at the door, seemingly unable to cross the threshold until Eden took his hand and led him to the chair.

  “I’m okay with it, so you should be too. It’s the best way.” She glanced at Mitch for aid, but Mitch just shrugged. “The key always stays on this table. Always. When I wake up, one of you unlocks me as quickly as you can.”

  Mitch could see she was trying to control her fear, and Carter’s attitude wasn’t helping. “Get a grip, Scout. She’ll be fine as long as one of us is here with her.”

  After a quick, tentative nod from Carter, Eden stepped into the cage and sat down on the mattress. She briefly looked for the cuffs, but Mitch had tucked them underneath the bed to avoid causing her more emotional damage. She mouthed, “thank you,” to him.

  He kept eye-contact with her while he shut the door and closed the lock.

  A visible shiver went through her at the sound. “Mitch, tell him about the clothing thing, if . . . before it happens?”

  “He witnessed that last time, babe. But I’ll explain. Don’t worry, we’ll both be here the whole time.”

  “So both of you will be staring at me. Great.” She rolled her eyes.

  “No, I’ll be covering his eyes and he’ll be covering mine. Promise.”

  Her expression said, ‘You’re full of it, but thanks for trying’. She laid down and closed her eyes, sleep staying out of reach for a long time.

  He wondered what she was focusing on. Her breathing? Their kiss? Hell, why should he assume it meant as much to her as it had to him. He backed away and leaned against the wall behind Carter.

  Her chest slowed its movements, letting them know she was nearing slumber.

  Carter whispered, “What’s with the clothes-thing?”

  “Chastity has very sensitive skin. When she arrives, she won’t keep anything on for long. But, then, you’ve already seen that.” He tried to keep his jealousy from attaching to his tone. “You keep your eyes averted, you hear me?”

  “I’m a man. That’s a tall order, you hear me?”

  Asshole. “Yeah, I hear you.” She wasn’t his. And she still trusted the boy scout. Mitch had to get on board with that. As much as he hated the idea, he knew that Carter was necessary.

  When the moaning started, both men tensed. Her body clenched, arched, and shook. Her hands scratched at the clothing she wore, tugging her shirt up to expose a perfectly flat belly, the bottom edge of her light pink bra.

  With a jerk, Chastity opened her eyes and stretched out her limbs. She yawned and sat up, as if she was waking up from a night of undisturbed rest. A flash of delight registered on her face when she saw them, then filled with frustration, focusing on the bars between her and her toys.

  Carter stiffened, probably a second away from going to her. Mitch didn’t know if the guy wanted to comfort her or bring a different kind of comfort to himself.

  “Do not say anything to her,” Mitch said, holding Carter back with a firm hand on his shoulder.

  She focused first on Mitch, and he shook his head. After a quick lip-pout, she called out to Carter, her voice silky and wanting. “Carter? Please let me out of here. I’m scared.” She held on to the bars and looked at him through her lashes, a fake look of fear on her face.

  Carter pressed forward into Mitch’s grip.

  “She’s lying. She doesn’t feel fear.”

  With a quick glare to Mitch, she refocused on Carter and started to unbutton her shirt. “Carter, please. He’s so mean to me. He does things to me, Carter. Bad things. Don’t trust him.”

  Carter looked up at Mitch, unsure.

  Mitch knew he’d given no reason for the Carter to trust him. “Scout, you handed her to me the last time she changed because you knew I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. Remember that feeling. She’ll do whatever she can to get free. She’s not Eden.”

  “Shut up!” She tried to shake the bars of the cage without success. “Let me out!”

  Carter jerked to the side and Mitch lost his grip. The guy fled, running for the door with Mitch close behind him.

  “Where are you going?” Mitch asked.

  He stopped at the top of the stairs, his hand clenched onto the banister. “I can’t see her when she’s like that. I just can’t.”

  “Tough shit, Scout. Let me lay it out for you. Your cute little girlfriend turns into a wanton pile of hormones stuck on the greatest pair of tits I’ve ever seen and an ass to match, right?”

  Carter’s nodding matched his breath—quick and erratic. “I guess so.”

  “No guessing. Do you understand what happens to her? It’s not her anymore. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes.” His voice was shaky.

  How
could he get the kid to stay? What could he tell him? What would he believe? “Good. You also get that it would be near impossible for a saint to walk away from her, do you not?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am the last person on earth anyone would nominate for sainthood.”

  “Yeah, you mentioned that.”

  Mitch was glad to hear some resentment in the kid’s tone. “So you have a choice. You stay, we have a couple beers, keep an eye on her, and end the night with indigo balls. Or, every couple of days, you fade off into happy-happy dreamland knowing that I’m banging your girl six ways from Sunday.”