by Simone Bern
“Yeah?”
“Can you take off the blindfold and handcuffs now?”
He pulled off the blindfold and smiled into her eyes. “Let me see if I can find the keys.”
“If you can’t I will take them off myself but they won’t work again afterward.” She grinned. “And that would be a shame.”
He scrambled to find his pants on the floor and fished the keys out of a pocket. She sat up and rubbed her wrists then crawled onto his lap. He held her gently and lifted up one of her hands to look closely at the wrist. She didn’t seem bruised. Good. He kissed her palm. As the silence lengthened a small worry grew in him.
“Lee. Tell me honestly, was that pushing the boundaries for you?”
She lifted her head off his chest to look at him. A wicked glint showed in her eyes. “My dear wolf, I’m not such an innocent. The begging was hard for me but being taken into new territory is part of what makes something like that so thrilling. And you have a definite gift for such games. I’ve never been dangled over the knife edge of frustrated desire for so long before.” She stroked his face and ran a finger over his lips. “I’ll be having wet dreams about this adventure too.”
He smiled and bit down slightly on her finger.
She glanced at the clock. “Damn. It’s ten. I’d better get ready for work.”
Jeremy caught and held her before she left the bed. “Tonight… Can I see you again after work?”
She hesitated. “I should say no.”
“But you won’t. I’ll be here at six.” He said it quickly, hoping she would simply agree.
“And what will you do between now and then? Go home, Jeremy.” Disappointment flared in him. She closed her eyes and opened them again. “I could use a ride on my bike. Let’s meet in White Rock for a meal and then go for a walk along the beach.”
“Seven. At Charlie Don’t Surf,” he offered.
She nodded.
* * * * *
Jeremy stepped out onto the balcony while Lee made a quick breakfast. He had pulled on his pants but left the shirt behind. The sun was out and it was a warm day.
“Hello again…Jeremy.”
It was Lee’s neighbor. He couldn’t remember her name. He almost retreated back inside but the sun felt so wonderful on his bare back. “Hello.”
“Glorious day, isn’t it?” She was lying on a lounge chair, wearing a very small bikini.
He smiled. “Fantastic.”
She stood up and walked over to the railing so she was only a few feet away. “You and Lee seem to be getting along well. I’m glad. She’s been itching for someone but has rather finicky taste.”
Jeremy held on to his bland smile. “I like her very much. She’s a nice girl.”
The blonde woman chortled. “Lee is fun, smart…rather too edgy but some guys like that…”
Jeremy’s smile widened into a grin.
The other woman noticed and nodded. “But she isn’t nice. Treat her right and you’ll do okay but hurt her and I can guarantee that you’ll end up hurting a whole lot worse.”
Jeremy lifted an eyebrow. “Are you trying to scare me off?”
“Hell no. Please stay. You brighten up the neighborhood considerably. Just…be good to her.”
“I have every intention of being the best damn thing that ever happened to her.”
“And you seem to be off to a good start.” She started walking away, turned and looked at him over her shoulder. “Next time, may I suggest turning on some music first? Loud music.”
With that she disappeared inside her condo. Jeremy chuckled, not in the least put out that someone had overheard them. He hoped she got a thrill out of it. With any luck it would be an ongoing problem.
Chapter Six
“Hi, Gord,” Lee greeted her coworker at the Waves Counseling Center. “Nice day, isn’t it? Sometimes it sucks to work on a Saturday.”
“Yeah. But you had yesterday off. I just hope the sunshine lasts through Monday.”
They grumbled good-naturedly about the changeable West Coast weather and Lee picked up her first file of the day. The woman with a fear of flying. She scanned her list. Depression, unreasonable shopping urges, a marriage breakup and a case of confused sexual identity. The usual mix of upper-class problems. Sometimes she volunteered on the downtown east side. Then she got a load of sexual abuse and addiction issues. Not that such things didn’t happen to wealthy folk. They did and more often than anyone liked to admit. She suspected her shopaholic had been abused as a child. The woman was using constant acquisition as a way to fill an emptiness inside and to barricade herself behind a wall of stuff.
Lee sighed and went into her office to prepare for the first client.
* * * * *
She jotted down her last note and rubbed her eyes. Man, was she ever glad it was a short day. It had been very hard to stay focused. She needed to lie down and rest for a while. Lee checked her watch. Ten past five, five thirty by the time she got home and she’d have to leave just after six to make it to White Rock on time. Only half an hour to collect herself. Lee shook her head at her own stupidity and dropped the last file into the basket.
Walking along the crowded street, she wondered if she should call Jeremy and cancel. It wasn’t so much that she was sleepy as a feeling of being overwhelmed. Normally she spent a fair amount of time on her days off by herself, soothing inner senses that had been battered by the intense contact that came with her chosen profession. Jeremy had preempted that healing time. In addition, his emotions tore into her like a personal tornado. She should have said no, told him that they couldn’t get together tonight. But his disappointment had been palpable and she just hadn’t been able to do it.
She really wanted to be with him as well, Lee admitted to herself. The man was addictive. They might not be able to see each other all week—between his wacko work schedule and the distance between his place and hers. She could feel the loss of his company, his touch, his smell already. Damn, but she had it bad. It had been a long time since she’d craved a man like this. Her rational mind still held reservations but her body was ready to swim through fire to be with him. It was pure infatuation. The madness of falling in love. Lee chased that last thought away. In lust, maybe. Not in love.
She didn’t call. By six fifteen she was steering her bike out of the parking garage and onto the streets. Traffic was heavy but moving reasonably fast. At least there was no bottleneck going over the bridge. She hit the long open stretch of Highway 99 and embraced the thrill of speed. The exit for White Rock came up fast and she released the throttle to gear down and take the turn at something approaching a safe speed.
Her bike rumbled down the busy road that ran along the waterfront. She’d made good time and might only be a few minutes late…if she could find a parking spot. Everyone and their dog seemed to be down here tonight. It was a sunny Saturday in June, she should have known it would be a zoo. Finally she waited while a family loaded their three kids into a minivan. She parked, locked her helmet onto the bike and slung the leather jacket over her arm.
Charlie Don’t Surf was on the strip of commercial operations that faced the water. The sidewalk thronged with people which she dodged with growing impatience. As she approached the restaurant Jeremy waved to her from the patio.
“Sorry,” she said when she finally made it to his table. “Parking was a bitch.”
He nodded and stood up to give her a quick kiss. “I saw you go by so I knew you weren’t standing me up.”
She threw him a sharp glance. He was joking but there was a tension in him that said he had considered the possibility. She sat down and ordered a beer. One drink was all she allowed herself when she was riding. She might be a thrill junkie but she wasn’t stupid.
“So what did you do this lovely sunny afternoon?”
He shrugged. “Yardwork. Laundry. Read the paper.”
“Sounds terribly domestic.”
“Homeowner and responsible citizen, that’s me.”
“Yeah.” She gave
him a faint smile. “Sometimes it feels like you’re two people, doesn’t it? A nice, normal one and…the other.”
“I have it on good authority that you’re not nice.”
“Whose authority?”
“The tall blonde who lives next door. She was out on her balcony this morning. By the way, she suggests loud music.”
“Alicia said I’m not nice? Geez, so much for friends these days.”
“Oh, she likes you. Just wanted to make sure I knew that if I didn’t treat you right you’d make me sorry for it.” He paused and looked at her thoughtfully then asked, “So what did you do to the last guy?”
He didn’t sound worried, just curious. Lee thought about shrugging him off but decided he might as well learn about this side of her. “He’s in therapy for a sudden onset of severe claustrophobia. Can’t even get into an elevator anymore. Makes living on the sixteenth floor a real problem.”
Jeremy’s eyes narrowed. “Sort of a more complicated version of what you did to me?”
“Much more complicated.” It had taken her weeks to prepare that spell.
“Interesting. Anything else I should know?”
“Probably. But I’m not going to talk about it anymore.”
He nodded. “Alicia knows you fairly well then.”
“Not really. She just puts it down to a clever use of my psychology degree.”
“I see. But she’s right. You aren’t nice.”
“If you’re interested in nice there are some Barbie dolls I could introduce you to,” Lee said casually. She didn’t even bother looking at him but continued to examine the menu. She hadn’t the slightest fear he would take her up on that offer.
“Jeremy!” An excited female voice drew both their attention.
A busty brunette squeezed into a too-small tank top and micro-shorts had stopped on the sidewalk and was smiling blissfully at Jeremy. Lee felt his consternation. This was definitely a meeting he would have preferred to avoid. The woman made her way to the restaurant entrance. Lee looked questioningly at Jeremy. He didn’t get a chance to answer because Ms. Chesty was beaming down at him.
“I haven’t seen you in so long, baby. Glad to know you’re still alive.” The brunette laughed breathily. The woman seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Lee was at the table. Besides feeling annoyed Lee was suddenly aware of how completely unsexy her t-shirt and jeans were.
“Uh, Melissa, this is Lee. My girlfriend.”
Lee raised an eyebrow but didn’t contradict him. Melissa’s eyes widened in astonishment. Then a crafty expression settled over the other woman’s face. Not subtle, this one.
“Oh, hi. You’re his latest, are you?” Melissa said dismissively. She turned back to Jeremy and put a hand on his shoulder. “Give me a call when you’re free one evening.”
Jeremy gave her a tight smile. “Not likely, Melissa. But Eric was talking about you just the other day.”
“Then say hi to that big hunk for me. Gotta run, baby. Some friends are waiting at the pub.” Melissa gave Jeremy’s shoulder a final squeeze and tottered away on high heels.
Lee leaned back and crossed her arms. Jeremy shifted uncomfortably.
“You like…airheads?” she asked scathingly.
“No.”
“But that was an ex.”
“She was never my girlfriend.” He replied feelingly.
“She thought she was. Figures she still has some access rights as a matter of fact.”
“As you so astutely noted, Melissa’s not very bright.”
Lee snorted. “Some competition.”
“No competition. You win.”
The waiter came to take their order. Lee decided to let the earlier topic of conversation drop. Instead she asked, “Who’s Eric?”
“A coworker. And a friend.”
“Your partner?”
“Used to be. But I moved on to detective work and he’s still on the street.”
“Do you go back to work on Monday or Tuesday?”
“Monday.”
“Then it’s two days, followed by two nights. Twelve-hour shifts, right?”
He nodded. “You work Monday to Thursday and then Saturday afternoons?”
“Most weeks. This week I have to work Friday ‘cause two of my coworkers are away at a conference. Also I normally work late shifts on Tuesday and Thursday. Noon ‘til seven. It’s a bit of a weird schedule but lots of people can’t make it in during regular working hours.”
They spoke for a while about the benefits and drawbacks of unusual work hours. Neither of them mentioned what was probably on both their minds—that it would be a challenge to fit their schedules together.
A chicken Caesar salad landed in front of her. She stole some of Jeremy’s fries and offered up her salad. The conversation shifted to the predominantly female urge to share food. Lee argued that men were programmed by nature to be possessive over food—the survival of the strongest being their imperative. On the other hand, women were programmed to share so that their children stood a better chance for survival.
Jeremy ordered dessert again and offered her a fork with a wicked smile. “See…men can share too.”
“When you’re already stuffed and there’s an ulterior motive,” she said but took the fork. The apple pie looked delicious.
When the bill arrived he made no move to pick it up.
“Should we go for a walk?” Jeremy asked after she paid.
“Definitely.”
They tossed her leather jacket into Jeremy’s SUV and then walked down the long wooden pier. The sun was setting out over the water in brilliant pinks and faded orange. They stopped to appreciate the view and Lee leaned back against Jeremy. He put his arms around her and she felt blissfully happy for moment. She loved the ocean and this beach was a particular favorite. Not that the beach itself was great. Spanish Banks was nicer. But she liked the way the street hugged the shore and was filled with lively restaurants, coffee shops and ice-cream stands.
One of Jeremy’s hands slipped under the edge of her t-shirt. It made a pleasant pool of warmth on her belly and started just the faintest tingle down below. He made no move to caress her however and she was glad. They needed to spend time together, to talk without the distraction of their insane physical chemistry.
By unspoken agreement they strolled back down the pier and turned right. The pier intersected a walking path that ran for a good mile in either direction. She came here for her late-night outings sometimes.
Lee held Jeremy’s hand and marveled at how nice it felt sharing this place with him. They talked lightly about summertime pleasures. She found out that they both liked to go camping but not in the busy parks and commercial campgrounds where everyone was jammed in like sardines. There were forest service sites off the beaten track that hardly anyone used. The facilities were limited to smelly, cobweb-laden pit toilets but she could put up with that in order to get away from the crowds.
They wandered down to the beach and sat on a log. Jeremy started tossing pebbles into the water. The rocks flew a hundred yards or more without any apparent effort on his part.
“Did you go camping a lot as a child?” she asked.
“Sort of.”
“How sort of?”
“We’d drive out into the wilderness and change. Spend a few days as wolves. Hunt, run, sleep curled up under a tree somewhere.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“It was. My dad’s a fun guy…sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?” She could feel his mixture of love and something else, perhaps fear.
“He can be a bit…rough. Not a lot of sympathy for anyone or anything. Werewolves are like that. Show a weakness and they go for the throat. Even with family.”
She shot him a look. Did he even realize what he’d just said? “Are you…like that?”
“Of course. I’m a werewolf, aren’t I?” He turned and caught her looking at him. A hard little smile twisted his lips. “Good thing you haven’t got a lot
of weaknesses.”
Lee didn’t say anything for a moment. She wasn’t about to argue with him. He’d learn soon enough that she had her wounds. She wondered what he would do then. She also wondered how she would react. “Do you really think it’s a natural part of being what you are to attack when someone exposes vulnerability? Real wolves protect the weaker members of the pack, don’t they?”
“I suppose they do. The cubs, the omegas. But they can be brutally cruel as well. If any female other than the alpha has cubs they’ll kill them. Limited resources can’t be wasted on an inferior litter.”
“Is attacking weakness a survival trait…or a consequence of being raised without a mother?”
He shot her a sideways glance. “Being a counselor, Lee?”
She shrugged. “It’s what I am.”
He changed the subject. “You said you had cousins with your gifts. Are there many real witches then?”
“No. We’re the only family in western Canada. There’s another family in Quebec, a couple in Ontario, four families in the Maritimes and at least a dozen that I know of down in California—that’s kind of the hotspot for witches in North America. Europe is more dense with witches, it’s where we came from after all, but I haven’t had much contact with them. Of course there’s magic in other parts of the world—aboriginal shamans, India mystics and so on—but it’s different and I know very little about those forms of magic. Rough guess a couple thousand European-type witches in the world.”
He was quiet for a minute. “From what I know there are maybe two hundred werewolves.”
“Wow. Not a lot.”
“No. We don’t tend to multiply. Don’t breed well apparently and if a werewolf has one son that’s about it. Hard to have multiple children when you have to pretty much steal the kid away. And that’s getting harder to do these days.”
“Why steal the children?”
“Because the women don’t know they’ve been sleeping with a werewolf. If she gets pregnant and the baby is a boy the father takes the kid and runs. Can’t have boys growing up untrained, can’t train them if they are with their unsuspecting mothers so…” He shrugged.
It sounded ugly. She wondered how many boys on the missing children posters were werewolves. “We’re pretty secretive about our existence too but our families know.”
