“Good event,” said Bryan comfortably. “People were raving about the food, thank you for handling it.”
Bellaron tugged his tie loose and sat down at his own plate. He knew when Bryan asked to meet with him after the opening that it wasn't just for food.
“You want me to meet him?” he said, frowning. If he wasn't careful, he would crush the edge of the table in his bare hand; carefully, he let go and sat with his hand resting on one thigh.
“It's long past time,” Vicky pointed out. “You've been living in Colossal City for more than two years now. You need to meet him.”
Bellaron frowned at her, and she only smiled serenely. He supposed that after some of the interviews she had run, aliens must be fairly old news.
“We've gone on as we are just fine.”
Bryan wiped his mouth with his napkin before speaking, shaking his head. “No, we've not. Last winter, when those things came out of the sewers, we could have used you then. And just a month ago, when that Ichor godling attacked the Third Ward, don't tell us that you were so pleased to handle that alone.”
Bellaron found himself baring his teeth at Bryan, and he forced himself calm. He genuinely liked the other man. As a matter of fact, he owed a great deal of success to Bryan's patronage, but that sure as hell didn't mean that he was going do whatever he said.
“I did just fine,” he said stubbornly.
“You could be doing better, and that's what we're trying to say,” Vicky said, putting down her fork. When she looked at him with that clear and earnest expression, it was easy to see why people trusted her immediately. It was all genuine too, and he could find it in himself to envy Bryan mightily if a certain sweet-faced artist hadn't stolen into his kitchen that night.
Bellaron sighed. “Fine. Arrange your meeting, but don't expect me to be impressed by the man.”
“That's just fine, I'm not asking you to be best friends, I'm just asking you to talk,” Bryan said, smiling with relief. “Thank you. If there's anything I can do for you...”
“The artist,” Bellaron said bluntly. “I couldn't get close to her, there were so many people who wanted to talk to her. Who is she?”
“Her name's Apple Muldoon, and she's the artist in residence at the Hillman Center for the next month,” Bryan said proudly. “I caught a small display that she had at an art fair a few months ago, and I knew that she had to bring her work here.”
“She dropped out of the art college here a few years ago,” supplied Vicky. “Independent, did a bunch of odd jobs until her art took off. It's still not paying the bills, I don't think, but tonight changed everything for her. They can't take the pieces yet, but nearly every piece sold.”
Bellaron nodded thoughtfully. “Everything except the big wolf.”
“Yes,” said Vicky with surprise. “How did you know?”
Bellaron grinned, and if there was something sharp to his smile, neither Vicky or Bryan let it bother them.
“I recognized it,” he said. “That's a hunter. That's something that stalks the forests and kills without a sound. It makes every human who looks at it realize that they're prey.”
Vicky lifted a cool eyebrow. “Oh? And what does it make you think, Bellaron?”
“I see a brother,” he retorted.
He stood up abruptly, and both Vicky and Bryan, human to their core despite the alien company they kept, shivered. They could see the hunter in him, and a deep part of them responded to it.
“”Bryan, I want that piece. I don't care how much it costs.”
Bryan nodded, but when he looked at the tense lines of Bellaron's body, he knew that it wasn't all that the tall man wanted.
Chapter Four
Apple had fallen asleep in her makeup and her clothes the night before, and when she awoke around noon, her thoughts were still full of green eyes, clever fingers and a mouth that was made to pleasure her. The thoughts stayed with her as she showered and dressed, pulling on her favorite pair of paint-splattered jeans and a soft purple peasant top, and she blushed all over again to think about how bold she had been. She was no shrinking violet, but usually she waited a bit before she unleashed her inner vixen. Something about the chef she met at the gallery showing had changed all that, and when she remembered his hands on her flesh, she felt herself heat up all over again.
She wondered what would happen if she showed up at the doors of The Hunt, if she walked through the fancy dining room and confronted him in the kitchen. Would he look at her the same way? Would he touch her again? Then she looked down at her clothes, at the vivid green paint splatter on her jeans and her worn sandals, and realized that that was pretty unlikely.
Apple had every intention of hunting him down, but at the moment, she needed time to gather herself. Her reaction to him last night was simply so strong that she needed time to collect her thoughts, and to do so, she made her way down to the midtown market.
The midtown market was Colossal City's summer flea market. From April until October, the market took up an enormous four-block lot, and vendors of all kinds hawked their wares from stands, from wheelbarrows, from blankets and from carts. There were farmers selling rich colorful produce, booksellers, junk sellers, antique dealers and clothes vendors of every sort, and Apple thought it was her favorite place in the whole city.
Sometimes she bought things, but more often, she walked around, staring at the oddities that lurked in every bin and bag. She wondered if a pair of ancient tin soldiers would go well on her next piece, she petted an enormous friendly dog that was about the size of a pony, and on a whim, she bought herself a bag of roasted almonds to eat as she walked.
Apple found herself looking over a blanket that was scattered with all sorts of odds and ends, and for some reason, she found herself drawn to a leather book. It was small, barely the size of a normal paperback, but the leather was a deep rich brown, worn down by years of handling. She would have passed it by, but when she opened it, her eyes fell on a strange animal that she had never seen before. It had the body of what she thought was a lizard, but it had two cat heads on its shoulder. They both stared intently at each other, baring sharp fangs.
“How much?” she asked, and the man held up two fingers.
She passed him two dollars, and she ran home to devour the book. It was full of monsters, ones that sparked her mind and made her long for clay, for metal, for anything that would let her capture their sinuous curves.
Apple spent the day making sketches, trying to figure out how she could give life to the illustrations. The book was strange, with no publisher, and she could not understand what it was for. There were no words, only picture after picture of glorious monsters. Some of them swam, some of them flew, some of them were tiny and some huge, but they were all unique in their own way, with expressions on their faces that made her smile and shiver by turns.
She fell into bed fully clothed again, holding the book in her hand, and this time, her dreams took her straight to Bellaron's arms.
This time, they weren't interrupted, and he spread her out on that table so that he could see her, touch her, taste her all they wished. She could feel her hands curl around his shoulders as she drew him on top of her, and she could feel his hot lips on her mouth, her neck, her breasts.
“Come on, finish what you started, big man,” she said in her dream, and he grinned, doing exactly that.
Across the city, Bellaron awoke in his enormous bed in the apartment above the restaurant. Shards of his dreams came back to him, and panting, he fell back against the pillows. It had seemed so very real, her long brown hair, her laughing dark eyes, the feel of her skin under his hands. She was smiling at him, running her hands down his body.
Come on, finish what you started, big man, she had whispered, and oh, how he longed to do so.
Among his people there were false dreams and true dreams, and as he lay alone his bed, certain that he could still feel her breath on his cheek, he knew that the dream he had just had was true.
He had to
find her.
He couldn't let anything stop him.
Far away, a crystal that hung suspended in the center of a dark chamber trembled and fell to the ground. Its ringing chime echoed throughout the stone room, and slowly, the figures that curled up on the floor around it started to stir. They shook off dust and rags, and for a moment, they were confused, snarling at each other and calling out.
The tallest and oldest among them strode to the center of the chamber, where he knelt and inspected the shards of the crystal. They were sharp enough to rip his fingers to ribbons, but though his skin was cut, there was no blood.
“It's awakened,” he whispered. “It is time.”
He was momentarily still, and then he began to laugh.
TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK FIFTEEN: Scars of my Past - Volume 15
***
Scars of my Past
***
Chapter One
Rachel could detect the simmer of raw emotions in her husband from the moment she woke up, but she could also detect the shield that was up to prevent his emotions from overwhelming hers. Lynxar smiled at her, and he let her tug his purple hair playfully as she went to get their daughter Lynxienna ready for school, but there was something troubled about him.
As far as they knew, Lynxienna had none of her father's strength or telepathic abilities yet, but still the seven-year-old cast a worried look behind her when her mother walked her to the limousine that was meant to take her to school. The limousine trips were a present from Bryan Hillman to his friends; one kidnapping attempt on the children of the superheroes of Colossal City was enough, and Aurora Bright was already in the car.
“Mama, is Daddy all right?” Lynxienna whispered when Rachel bent down for a final hug.
“He does seem a little worried, doesn't he?” Rachel admitted. “Don't worry, I'll talk to him. It's probably just grown-up stuff.”
Lynxienna scowled, but she hugged Rachel back fiercely.
It was never a good idea to lie to a child who might someday develop psychic abilities, but Rachel wished that she was as confident as she felt.
When she went back inside their townhouse, she couldn't find Lynxar in the family room, the kitchen or their bedroom. Instead, he was in their basement, which had been transformed into a gym. At first glance, the gym looked normal enough, but a careful examination would have seen that the weight bench was reinforced to hold several times the amount of weight that a human should be able to lift and that the punching bag was nearly rock hard and so heavy that it was actually impossible for Rachel to budge on her own.
Lynxar was now pummeling the punching bag as if was the face of a hated enemy, and as Rachel watched from the doorway, he hit it so hard that the chain it was on squealed and groaned. She waited until he slowed and finally stopped all together, and as he stood panting and sweating, head down as if ashamed, it struck her all over again how handsome he was.
Lynxar was a voyager from a faraway planet, and the circumstances of how he had come to Earth were mired in trouble and strife. He was larger than most human men, stronger and faster as well, but it was his purple hair, tied back into a short tail at the base of his neck, that truly set him apart. Wearing only a pair of exercise shorts, the muscular lines of his body were stark and clear, and she knew that if she placed her hand over his heart, she would feel its thunderous powerful beat.
I know you're there.
His mental voice was as clear as a bell in her head. They were bonded in so many ways, and instead of replying in words, Rachel simply sent him a surge of her love-concern-adoration-curiosity to him. It was a primitive way of communicating; on his home planet, it would have been seen as childish, but he turned and summoned a small smile for her.
“Don't worry,” he said. “It's...it's nothing.”
“I know that I shouldn't lie to a telepath,” Rachel said, amused, “but I don't think telepaths should lie to me. It's the meeting today, isn't it?”
Lynxar's carefully constructed shield, meant to protect her and their daughter from his strong feelings, cracked and crumbled, and for a moment, Rachel could sense the deep gnawing anger and grief under it. Then the shield was back, but Rachel staggered for a moment, overwhelmed.
Cursing, Lynxar caught her before she could fall, and she gazed up at him, eyes wide.
“Oh... Oh, darling, no...”
Lynxar nodded tightly. “I was meant to help him save his world. I failed.”
Rachel bit her lip and hugged her husband tightly, wishing that she could take away some of his pain.
“I should have been there, that was where I was going before my ship crash landed here. His planet had sent out a call for aid, and they sent me.”
“You couldn't help that your ship was damaged.”
“By the time my ship was repaired, and I was back in communication with my home, they simply sent me a message saying that the strife on Naith was over. I... I thought that meant that they had sent another, and that I was no longer needed. Now, I learn that... that was not the whole story.”
Rachel held her husband more tightly, wishing she could shield him from this. Lynxar was the protector of Earth and Colossal City, but he was meant to be another planet's protector entirely. It was only chance that had brought him to Earth and to Rachel, but the idea that her happiness had come at another planet's loss made her heart ache.
“You could not have known,” she said softly. “This was not your fault.”
Lynxar only shook his head, and when he would have gone back to the punching bag to punish it further, she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He paused, looking at her with eyes so full of grief she knew she had to do something to change it, so she reached up to give him a kiss.
Instead of resisting her, he dove into the kiss with the hunger of a starving man, and instead of bending his body down to hers, he caught her up in his arms and kissed her like that instead. Even with her feet dangling a foot off the ground, Rachel felt not a single hint of fear; instead, she wrapped her arms more tightly around his shoulders and kissed him back with a will. The smell of his sweat and his body filled her nose, and it caused a spike of arousal in her that could never be denied.
Behind the lust, she could still feel the grief and the anger at himself that simmered in her husband, but if she could give him a single moment of relief and respite from it, that was what she wanted to do.
With a deep growl, he pressed her against the cement wall, and in response, she wrapped her legs around his waist. Through the thin fabric of her skirt, she could feel his erection, already hard, pressing against her soft skin, and she warmed to him, rocking her hips against his bulk in need.
“You're not ready,” he murmured, pressing hot kisses to her ear. “I don't want to hurt you.”
“Get me ready,” she retorted. “You know you can.”
With a hoarse laugh, he slid her down to the floor, and with her legs spread wide, he knelt in front of her. There was something intoxicating about having her perfect alien husband kneel in front of her so adoringly, and she fumbled for the edge of her skirt, lifting it high and showing off her bare legs. He slid her panties down her legs and set them aside before spreading her soft folds apart carefully with his hands. She knew that he could rip apart cars with his hands, but he could use them with amazing gentleness and dexterity to bring her to the heights of pleasure.
She shivered when the cool air of the basement hit her most sensitive flesh, but then the cold was replaced by the heat of his mouth. He lapped at her delicately at first, bringing just the tip of his tongue to her clit before dipping down further. He held her spread open as he plumbed her deepest folds with his tongue, and she groaned, burying her fingers in his hair.
He knew every inch of her body, and he used it to bring shudders of pleasure to her, making her shake and sigh. She could feel the inevitable tremors run down her legs, and she tilted her hips, pressing his face more tightly to her body.
“Darling, come on, please...”
“Yes, yes, oh please...”
He stood up in a single smooth motion and, cupping his hands under her round buttocks, he lifted her up against the wall. Rachel wrapped her legs around his waist and dragged him closer, moaning with frustration when she realized that he was still wearing shorts. With a soft laugh, he freed his cock, letting the head slip between the lips of her sex teasingly before entering her with a single stroke.
For a long moment, they simply stood and shuddered together, so close that they could feel each other's heartbeat.
“You're mine,” Rachel murmured brokenly. “You're mine, and nothing else matters to me.”
If Lynxar disagreed, he didn't say anything, and he began to thrust up into her body. She was pinned to the wall, helpless against his bulk, and she loved every minute of it. He made her feel tiny and so deliciously vulnerable, and it fired a deep heat in her belly to know that he was so powerful and so strong, but that with her, he was so gentle, too.
Slowly, his thrusts quickened, and the shivers of pleasure returned full force to her body. She clutched at his shoulders and allowed him to move her exactly as he pleased. She trusted him with her pleasure as much as she trusted him with her life, and he didn't disappoint. She could feel his climax through the tension of his body, but she knew that he wouldn't spill until she had climaxed.
Rachel tensed tighter and tighter, her entire body vibrating with pleasure, and whimpering desperate noises escaped her lips. She was almost there, almost, almost...
Now.
That single clear command in her mind brought her straight over the edge, and her body was taken with shudders that blotted everything except the intense pleasure that set her on fire. Almost immediately, Lynxar spilled deep inside her, groaning loudly into her ear, telling her she was beautiful and oh so perfect.
Lynxar Series: Boxed Set (Books 14-19) (Superhero Romance - Werewolf Romance) Page 3
