by CJ England
She chewed her lip as she began removing the outside signs and other small decorative items. At least he hadn’t tried to force her to leave again. She hated his judgmental attitude about witches. Aithne knew there was a huge difference between a hereditary witch and one who’d sold her soul to the Devil for her powers. She wondered if Milcham did. Heredity witches meant no evil. In fact their motto was ‘And it harm none’. If he did know…he was definitely grouping her in with the evil ones. That made her even angrier…and hurt too that he would think of her that way. Shaking her head, she put her Gypsy Fortune Teller sign in the trailer.
A few minutes later, she was joined by Jarrod, one of the roustabouts and Alexander, who was billed as Chortles the Clown. Both men were her closest friends in the carnival, probably because their backgrounds were as strange as hers.
She watched Jarrod pull the tent stakes from the ground with one easy tug. His muscles rippled in the sun and she had to admire his masculine form. Big and blond, with a rough hewn face and feral eyes, the two of them had been drawn together immediately.
Alexander was the opposite of Jarrod. When you met him out of costume, it was hard to believe this was the same man who could make you roll with laughter at his silly antics. In reality, he was quiet spoken and studious. He was a whiz with numbers and often helped Milcham out with the accounting.
But both men had a secret. One, Aithne had figured out almost immediately. Perhaps, it was because she herself, had spent so much time in the paranormal world, two other supernaturals were easy to spot. She wondered if Milcham knew his carnival was a haven to these two…true freaks.
Jarrod was a werewolf and Alexander…he could speak to ghosts.
She’d known from the beginning there was something different about them. Jarrod, with his rough and tumble ways, and Alexander, so quiet unless he was performing. They were the unlikeliest of friends.
Walking back to her tent, the first week she was with the carnival, she stumbled across them standing near the fence behind the arcades. She watched in amazement as Jarrod suddenly shifted into a dark colored wolf and sped into the trees.
She thought she was quiet, but suddenly Alexander turned his head as if he was listening to someone and then he’d spoken.
“I know you’re there.”
Aithne wasn’t afraid, just curious. She’d met others like them in her long life with Aidan. Supernaturals seemed to attract each other. As she walked forward, Alexander thanked someone, before turning to her.
“Who are you talking to?” she’d asked curiously.
He’d told her then she’d been seen by one of the spirits--Ethereals, they called themselves--who haunted the fair grounds. And the Ethereal had told him.
Eventually, Jarrod returned from his run and the three had talked long into the night. Aithne told them about her time as her brother’s familiar and the men told her about themselves as well.
Jarrod was a rogue. Without a pack to call home, he’d wandered around the country until he’d found the carnival. For the first time, he’d felt like he belonged somewhere. Aithne knew there was more to the story. No werewolf went rogue without cause, but since he didn’t share more, she didn’t push. There was a stoic sadness and deep anger swirling in his dark brown eyes.
Alexander had joined the carnival to get away from his family. They were the type that either believed because he saw ‘ghosts’ he should be put away in a mental hospital, or if they were feeling generous…he only needed to be prayed over so the demons would leave him alone. After one too many attempts to ‘help’ him, Alexander had packed a bag and disappeared. Dark-haired and blue-eyed, he was very striking, but he rarely dated. He found having ghosts as chaperons rarely made an evening go well.
Aithne had the sneaking suspicion both men were attracted to her. But each of them knew it, and so neither would do anything about it. That was okay with her. Having them around made her feel like she had a brother again. Or rather…this time…two.
Now, they argued companionably as they helped her take down her tent. Since they both shared a trailer, they had little to do before rolling out. She was grateful for their help.
She felt him before she saw him. The back of her neck prickled again, and she swung around to see him standing right behind her.
Milcham stared at the men who were making short work of Aithne’s tent. A wave of jealously went through him. He wanted to order them away from her, but he knew that was ridiculous. He shouldn’t be surprised they were helping her, she was--as he’d said--a beautiful woman. But the anger he felt wasn’t reasonable. Alexander was a close friend, and Jarrod, for all his moodiness, was a good worker and a man he could count on.
He knew about them both…of course. He was too intelligent to miss their unique characteristics. Now, he didn’t know whether to warn Aithne she was messing with monsters out of a faerie tale, or warn the men she was a witch.
He’d dreamed about her every night since he’d had that erotic vision. One he was sure she gave him, just to drive him crazy. Every time he’d jerk awake, his cock standing straight up, as hard as a spike. The only way he’d get any relief was to finish himself off, while he pictured her sexy body naked beneath his.
His thoughts were broken by her husky voice. “Is there something you wanted, Mr. Phoenix?”
Anger flared again, as he met her green eyes. Every time they’d met in the last few days, she’d turned on her heel and walked away from him. Now, she wouldn’t call him by name? It was suddenly too much.
“I told you to call me, Milcham.”
She raised a dark eyebrow. “And I told you, I wouldn’t need to.”
“You are so damn stubb…” He stopped himself and took a deep breath. He wouldn’t let her get to him. No matter how much he wanted to drag her into his trailer and fuck her senseless. Changing the subject, he motioned behind her. “Will you be done in time? I need you out of the way.”
Aithne narrowed her eyes. Nasty, arrogant, opinionated, man. She’d like to… She stopped herself before she blew up at him. Instead she said icily, “Alexander and Jarrod are a great help. We will be finished, long before you are.”
His own eyes flared. “Just be sure that work comes first.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He gave her a smirk. “I know how you pay the men who help you, remember?”
Her mouth fell open and hurt filled her eyes. She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then her chin lifted and she tapped the faint bruise that still touched her pink mouth. “And the men who did this. What was I paying them for?”
His own lips hardened, but he said nothing. Aithne shook her head. She opened her mouth and then shut it again, turning away. There was nothing more to say.
Milcham felt the guilt roll greasily in his stomach. He’d been out of line and he knew it. She didn’t deserve his words. He’d just been reacting to the thought of her with either of his friends. He started to apologize, but then saw both Alexander and Jarrod staring at him thoughtfully. Embarrassed at his own actions, he thrust his hands in his pockets, and stomped away.
—
Tossing his pen across the room, Milcham swore angrily. No matter what he did, he couldn’t stop thinking about Aithne and the cruel words he’d spoken to her. He’d started to go back once, but she’d climbed into the truck with Alexander and Jarrod and they’d driven off.
Guilt again warred with fury that his two good friends were with the woman who was becoming a constant distraction to him.
He rubbed his eyes. It was quiet. The last townie had left the carnival and he was in counting up gate receipts. It was another small town in Tennessee , but the money was good…considering. There had been no gate crashers, no breakdowns, and no fights with the locals.
Giving up, Milcham gathered up the paperwork and cash and put it into the safe. He had to apologize. He’d been wrong and it was time he’d admitted it.
Stepping out of his trailer, he walked swiftly toward her tent. Remembering h
is vision made his penis twitch, and he groaned. He’d had a hard-on since he’d first seen her standing outside her tent smiling at some mark. Immediately, he’d gone painfully stiff. Now he wondered if part of his anger with her might be fueled by unexpressed lust.
When he got to her tent, he cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. He didn’t often make mistakes. He wasn’t used to apologizing. “Aithne?” he said loudly as he pushed his way into the outer tent. “Are you here?”
The tent was dark and silent and he frowned. Where the hell was she? The least she could do was be where she should be when he wanted to apologize. He moved to the back of the tent, struck anew by how small it was.
It was exactly like he’d seen in his mind, and again the memory made him harden. Swearing under his breath, he left the tent quickly, taking a deep breath of the fragrant night air.
His peripheral vision caught the sight of Jarrod padding silently towards a wooded area off to the left of the carnival. Milcham knew he was going out for a run, but as always, he pretended not to know.
“Jarrod!” he called. “Do you know where Aithne is?”
The big blond nodded. “She is at the funhouse. She goes there sometimes to think.”
“To think?”
“Yes.” Jarrod glanced longingly at the woods and his nostrils flared in his eagerness to go. “She had a phone call from her brother that seemed to upset her. So she went to sit and think.”
Milcham thought of all the nooks and crannies in the fun house. It was a good place to hide away. “Thanks. Where you off to?”
Jarrod glanced sharply at him. “For a walk.”
He nodded. “Be careful…townies.”
The werewolf grinned with real humor. “They’re the ones who should be careful.”
Milcham grinned. He was right. No human in his right mind would ever try to fight a full grown male werewolf. He watched him lope off into the forest, before making his way across the carnival grounds to the dark house at the back of the midway. A garish looking clown made of red and white light bulbs laughed down at him. It looked dingy in the darkness, unlike the brilliant welcoming sign that shone brightly when it was open.
Knowing the most likely place for her to hide, he made his way past the moving staircase and the cargo nets to the center of the building. There, in the center of the maze of mirrors, he saw her.
She was dressed in another long flowing skirt, with matching off the shoulder sweater, and his pulse raced when he saw the top of her left breast was showing. She was leaning back against one of the mirrors, with her eyes closed. A single tear traced down her porcelain cheek.
Something sweet and painful moved through him and unthinkingly, he rubbed at his chest. Any anger he had disappeared. “Are you all right?”
Her eyes flew open. When her head whipped around and saw him, he watched the emotions fly across her face. Fear, anger, embarrassment and yes…even desire, before she hid them.
She climbed to her feet. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask the same thing,” he said as he moved closer. “Jarrod said you were here…thinking. Is everything okay with your brother?”
Her eyes flew to his. “How do you know about Aidan?” Then understanding lit her face. “Jarrod’s real chatty this evening.”
“You haven’t answered me.” He used his thumb to wipe away the tear, marveling at the softness of her cheek. “Your brother?”
She swallowed hard and her breath wavered at his touch. “My…brother is fine. He and his mate…I mean wife. They are going to New York for a showing.” Her eyes filled. “I just miss them, that’s all.”
Milcham started at the term ‘mate’, but her tear-filled eyes pushed it out of his mind. Without thinking, he gathered her to him, wanting to soothe. “Hush, Assai…do not cry. What is this showing you speak of?”
Aithne cuddled against him, needing to be held, even if it were by him. “Dawn is a sculptor. She’s having her first show in a few weeks. They wanted me to come see them, but it’s their first time away together. They don’t need a third wheel.”
He smoothed a large hand up her back. “Perhaps, she would like to have her family with her during this important time.”
She sniffed inelegantly and he grinned into her hair. “It’s best I don’t go. It’s hard to explain.”
“Family issues are not easy for outsiders to understand.”
Putting her head back, she looked up at him. “Sounds like you’ve been down this road before with your family.”
Before her eyes, his face saddened. “I have no family, Aithne. I am alone in this world and always have been.”
A piece of the puzzle clicked. “Is that why you search for your twin-flame?”
He stiffened slightly. “Yes…I have searched and will continue to do so until I find her. In that, you were correct.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My life has been good without her. When I find her, I will be complete.”
Aithne’s throat tightened. The thought of Milcham with another woman made her heart hurt for some inexplicable reason. Why did she care so much? They didn’t even like each other…did they?
“I must apologize to you.”
She blinked up at him. “Apologize?”
Milcham sighed, embarrassed all over again. “What I said yesterday. It was cruel and ugly and completely wrong. I am sorry.”
“You really hurt my feelings.”
He swallowed hard, feeling his face redden. “I…was angry with you. For avoiding me, for refusing to use my name. Hell…I was even angry because Jarrod and Alex were helping you.”
He put his finger under her chin and lifted it. “I know you aren’t the type of woman who uses her body in such a way. I ask your forgiveness.”
Aithne stared into his golden eyes. He did care, even if he didn’t want to admit it. They were more alike than they knew. Her heart warmed and she reached up to kiss his cheek. “It’s all right, Milcham. I think we both have been behaving foolishly, lately.”
He stiffened under her kiss. Feeling it, she tried to move away from him, but he held her tightly, his eyes still on hers. His heart beat very fast against her and suddenly the atmosphere around them thickened with heated desire.
With a groan, his mouth swooped down on hers.
Instant conflagration. Both their bodies, so starved for the other’s touch burst into needy flame. Their moans filled the small room. Milcham pushed her back against the mirrored wall, while she reached up and filled her hands with his hair.
Their tongues dueled together as they tried to get closer. Aithne cried out when he pulled the sweater off her shoulder revealing her naked breast. When his mouth swooped down and sucked the rosy crown into his mouth, her knees went weak.
He held her. One hand on her ass, while the other reached up under her sweater to touch her other breast.
It was just like in her fantasy. He sucked on one breast while he rolled the nipples of her other breast between his fingers. Whimpering, she held his head as she arched up to him, feeling her panties go damp with need.
“Milcham,” she groaned as he switched breasts, pulling the sweater off her head completely so he could feast on her nakedness.
Any control he might have had disappeared in a fiery ball of lust when she said his name in that sexy voice of hers. Bracing her against the wall, he reached under her skirt and pulled her drenched panties off with a sharp tug that separated them at the seams. He fumbled with his belt, swearing as his own top jeans button tore off and pinged against the mirror.
Seconds later, he was between her spread legs, her skirt pushed up and his strong arm still holding her up against the mirror. They stared at each other for one long moment, then unable to wait any longer, he guided the broad head of his penis to her waiting nether lips. With one strong thrust, he buried himself…deep inside.
Chapter Five
They both cried out and then stilled at the wonderful feel of their bodies finally
being connected. For a long time, they stared deep into each other’s eyes, unable to move or breathe. Then Aithne shuddered…just once, and the spell was broken.
Tucking his head into her shoulder, Milcham began to pound into her. His lust spiraling out of control, he had little grace or finesse, just the primitive need to imprint himself so deep in this female’s flesh, she would never forget him.
He held her flush against him so he could feel the damp softness of her clit against his cock as he penetrated her. Her soft moans and cries poured fuel on the heat of his passion. He was so hard, so swollen; every stroke was a painful pleasure.
Aithne cried out with the joy of finally feeling him deep inside her. He was big and hot and so hard, she wanted to weep from pleasure. Her fantasy had been wonderful, but the reality was more than she could have imagined. Now, she could see their reflections in a hundred different mirrors, and it made her desire rise even higher. Digging her hands into his shoulders, she leaned her head back against the mirror and enjoyed.
They were both so hot for each other it was no surprise their climaxes came so quickly. Even though in her mind she wished it could last forever, her need for release was too overwhelming. When the passion that was coiling in her belly, suddenly exploded, she screamed, convulsing in his arms like a wild thing. Heated emotions rolled through her with such strength she thought she might go mad with the feelings. When he groaned and plunged into her one last time, his cock swelling almost painfully, she came again, clenching down around him as she felt him come apart inside of her.
Milcham had never felt anything like it before. She was so hot, so silky and wet. But there was something else. Something he couldn’t put a finger on. Something that made him wish never to stop touching her.
His balls were drawn up so tightly, he could barely stand it. He couldn’t stop his thrusts…didn’t want to. When Aithne clutched at his shoulders and then screamed, he too cried out as he felt her burning quim milk his cock. His release poured through him, his orgasm so strong and so pleasurable, it made any other thought in his head, disappear.
