Jealousy twisted in her gut. The light in his eyes, the happiness on his face. Clearly he’d had a good time with the wolfie chick, whoever she was. Carrie wished she could’ve seen him at sixteen. Would he have been just as devastating as he was now with his brown hair and light eyes? She tried to picture him with a little less muscle, no stubbles or bags under his eyes, or tattoos or piercings. The thought of him with another woman left a sour taste in her mouth. Did she really want to let him go, let him be with someone else? She shivered and tried to distract herself by unwrapping her sandwich.
He reached out and grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m glad I had that moment because otherwise I wouldn’t have understood what I liked in sex or what I wanted.”
Warmth trickled up her arm and spread through her chest as the tension loosened, and some of her envy faded around the edge but still sat like a lump in her stomach. “Okay.” Why she said that, she wasn’t sure, but the word slipped out.
He gave her a nod. “Okay. Next cards.”
She let go of his hold and made her selection. So far he hadn’t used the remote to reward her. That disappointed her. Part of her wanted to be a brat and see what he would do. Let’s test him and see if he’ll give me little something. She handed him her picks and waited.
His gaze darted over the cards, and then he stared up at her. “You can either strip down to your bra and panties, or tell me something you’ve never told me before. If I had to pick a subject, I’d like you to tell me about your people, your parents.”
Ice water filled her veins, and a chill stole over her. She grabbed the can of seltzer to give her hand something to do.
“Um,” she started as her thoughts tumbled over themselves, getting tangled up. Panic welled up in her. I had only been kidding. “Um,” she muttered again.
Vibrations shook her, rocking her out of her confusion, and sexual need took the place of her internal turmoil. The delicious sensations cascaded through her, distracted her. She squeezed her thighs as her clit pulsed and her pussy fluttered.
“Carrie, give me an answer,” Dean urged in a soft tone.
She wasn’t sure what he was talking about. It took all her willpower to focus and try to speak. The pleasure cut off suddenly, making her feel as if she had just been isolated from something wonderful. “Um—” she tried to start, but her voice was low, ragged, smoky. “I was twelve when I found out I was different,” she managed to say.
The sweet feelings started again, deep in her core. She clung to them until once more they stopped. She hung over the edge, waiting for another round.
“Different how?” he asked, that same quiet tenor.
“Fairy light. It manifested. A friend had to move away, and I started crying. My body began to glow, like I was a lightbulb or something. The more I cried, the brighter it became.” She let the words tumble out and waited for him to press the button.
She watched his thumb depress the button on the small remote. She sank into the thrill that danced along her nerve endings. A moan escaped as her muscles turned to liquid.
“And then?” he queried. The bliss stopped, and she groaned.
“I told my parents.” She swallowed. “They looked at each other and then sat me down and told me that I was left on their doorstep with a note to take care of me. That they were good humans, and my real parents hadn’t been able to keep me safe so they gave me away.” Tears choked her throat as the memories came flooding back. Standing there in the bright, clean living room filled with simple comforts, young Carrie had felt cold, confused, and unsure if what she was being told was true. She had thought that maybe she was in some sort of dream. “I couldn’t understand why they were telling me this. I accused them of being liars.”
She could picture the pain on her adopted parents’ faces. They had reached out for her, tried to pull her to them, but she had stepped back, out of their reach. “My mother got up and left the room. She came back with the note and the bassinet that I’d been placed in. Classic freaking story.”
Pain ripped through her heart. She hung her head as the tears spilled over her cheeks. “I read the note and still didn’t understand. Why would my birth parents abandon me?” She sucked in a breath as waves of agony stole the air and imagined walls closed in around her. Panic set in. She wanted to get up, to run away from the crash of memories that welled up inside of her. She couldn’t take in enough oxygen. The atmosphere around her had thinned. She found herself gasping as tears bathed her face and hurt ripped her apart into tiny pieces.
Dean moved to her side and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. She fought against his hold, tried to shake him off. “Let go,” she managed to get out. “No. No.”
“Amore mio, tell me. Let it out. Show me,” he urged.
She didn’t want to continue. “Can’t make me.” The silver bullet and anal plug began to shake inside her. The vibe sat right over her G-spot. Her toes curled as the passion overtook her. Her climax slammed into her. She couldn’t breathe past the pressure that rocked her. Aftershocks hit her like body blows as she fought for some kind of control, only to lose. As the tide receded, her body twitched and her muscles jumped. She lay in his embrace, mind fogged by the afterglow, limbs weak. Tears continued to slip over her cheeks.
“Tell me what happened? Why did you search your people out?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“My fairy light kept flicking in and out. Whenever I got emotional, it would appear. On some occasions sparks would appear. My adopted parents were human. They couldn’t understand or advise me on how to handle it. I lived in a nonparanormal area. There was no one around who could help. I was losing friends. I had to be withdrawn from school. People said things, horrible things. The teenagers were worse. They called me Lightbulb and Glowworm or Glow Stick. They insinuated drug use.” The story came out in a weak, thready voice as she tried to find her breath. The memories played unchecked.
“It was horrible,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “My parents and I had to move. They were forced to unplug the phones to stop the crank calls. Their tires were slashed, the words HOUSE OF FREAKS was written on the side of our home, bottles thrown at me when I went out, all the nasty looks and whispers. Our town had been so nice and sedate. It turned so horrible and judgmental. We moved to an all-paranormal town where a few humans lived. No fairies though.”
Her heart and head hurt. “I was so disappointed when I found no one of my kind to talk to. It was a comfort being part of a community where they were used to seeing someone like me. I did get some advice on how to deal with my fairy light, but other than that, I had no one to mentor me. I felt all alone.”
His arms tightened around her. “After the move, my parents stopped talking about it. It was like I lived in a house separate from them. We lived in two different worlds. They were there for me physically, but emotionally, they had checked out.” She reached up and grabbed hold of his wrist. “I felt so alone, more so than ever.”
“And that’s why you need me to talk to you, keep you updated on how I’m doing while on the road? What happened when you tried to find your people?” The tenor of his voice was soft and soothing, lulling her into comfort.
She felt safe and connected to him. She settled into his arms and closed her eyes. “I didn’t find anything. I worked for a paranormal connection agency. They brought people like me together in the paranormal community, who had been abandoned, and helped them find their groups and get them information if they couldn’t locate their families. They couldn’t find anything about my group, no clues from the bassinet or the note. I tried doing searches on our database during the slow moments, but I’ve turned up nothing.”
Dean pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Oh, honey, I understand now.”
She hoped he did. She felt wrung out emotionally and physically. She couldn’t give him anymore of herself at the moment.
He reached down and lifted her unwrapped sandwich. “Eat something. We’ll stay here for a bit longer. T
ruth or dare is on hold.”
A comfortable silence fell between them. She lay against his chest as she ate until there was nothing left. Once they were done and he cleaned up after them, he stood up and held out his hand. “Let’s go home. It’s time I give you the piece of me I’ve been holding back.”
The words sounded ominous, and nervous energy filled the pit of her stomach. She accepted his hand and gave it a squeeze. “You don’t have to—”
“No, I have to. You’re my mate. You deserve to know about my past.” He unclasped her hand and wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her toward the park’s exit. The hard tone in his voice made her stomach flutter. Just what had he been through?
Chapter Five
They walked in silence through the town. Tension radiated through Dean. Determination and dread spiderwebbed his body, ensnaring him in emotions. His lunch threatened to rebel. Memories tried to shove forward as sweat beaded on his brow. His palms felt damp. He wanted to pull his hand away from Carrie’s grip but couldn’t muster enough energy to release his hold on her. Her touch helped keep him in the here and now and allowed him to feel somewhat safe.
By the time the house came into view, he felt drained of energy. Every step had been an effort. He felt like he’d been trudging through mud. When they stopped at the front door, Carrie laid a hand on his arm.
“Hey, you don’t have to tell me anything.” Her voice was soft and soothing.
Dean could only shake his head. “Need to.”
A sense of panic frayed his nerves. The urge to look for exits, even in his own home, grew as each second stretched out like a rubber band ready to snap. As they approached the front door, his feet felt like they were filled with cement. Sweat beaded his brow and dampened his lower back. Tension tightened the muscles of his legs and arms. The spot between his shoulders itched and burned. He clenched his jaw and forced himself up the front steps and waited as she unlocked and opened the door. She touched his arm and he jumped.
“Dean.” Her voice was low.
Warmth ebbed up his limb from contact with her.
He gave himself a mental shake. Get a move on, he ordered himself and forced his body to move forward and into the safety of his home. The cool darkness wrapped around him as soon as he was inside. Rather than wait another second, he turned and headed toward the main staircase. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.” His words came out harsher than he’d intended.
“The picnic basket?” Her voice came as if from far away.
He paused on the first step, perplexed.
“Look down at your arm.” This time she sounded closer.
He followed her order and saw the wicker handle hanging off his wrist. For the first time since they left the park, he felt the weight and rough-weave pattern pressing into his skin. “Oh.” In a haze, he switched his direction and went to the kitchen. On autopilot, he put the things away before going back to the stairs. Carrie grabbed his hand and led him up the flight toward her room. They didn’t say a word until they were in the bedroom. She shut the door and locked it. The snick rocked up his spine as the sweat at the base of his back increased. The tendons in his neck felt tight and ready to snap.
“Dean, you’re safe. You’re with me,” she crooned. “Focus on me.”
He closed his eyes and opened his senses. He could feel the warmth of the room from the heater. His skin prickled at the brush of warm air. Her vanilla perfume couldn’t mask the faint scent of her desire. He could feel her aura pressing against him, the calming presence that washed over him like blanket. He latched on to the feeling, let it seep into his skin and push away the dense cloud that swirled within him. It felt like shards of sunlight piercing the gloom. His exhale came out in a pained groan. Pieces of emotion circled his heart, filling his chest as old wounds ripped open.
“Dalton,” he whispered.
“Who is Dalton?” Carrie’s question came from a distance once more.
He opened his mouth as he tried to give her a response. His answer snagged on his teeth and slipped out on a rough murmur. “My old mentor.”
He could see Dalton’s dark, flat stare, not even the gold glints of his eyes were showing. The old werewolf hated to smile, barely cracked a chuckle, and almost never joked around. The memories were like body blows to Dean’s torso, arms, and legs. A whimper came out as he remembered the taste of the foul, black, gloopy coffee Dalton always made because he didn’t trust the mainstream diners and shops. The sneer Dalton would give Dean when he tried to add sugar or sneak off to get a decent cup of java. Dean felt as if his heart were cracking apart. He sucked in a shaky breath as the past threatened to overwhelm him.
“Stay with him,” Carrie whispered. “Be here with me and tell me about Dalton.”
A lump formed in his throat. He wasn’t sure he could; his mouth refused to sound out the words. It felt as if his tongue were coated with peanut butter.
“Take your time.” Carrie moved around him, her hands working over his body in soft swipes.
He relaxed in degrees as he took in her touch. She grabbed his wrists and drew them down his sides before she took hold of one of the lapels of his jacket and pulled it down in the back. He shrugged out of the garment and let her pull it off his arms.
Finally the words managed to find a way out. “He was a good man, taking on a mere pup of a kid who didn’t know the difference between a flogger and a full-on bull whip.”
A strained laugh slipped past his lips as he remembered the hours Dalton had made him work with each whip until he’d mastered it, and then moved on to combos while learning spells too, reading about the different kinds of paranormal beings that haunted their realm. He was quizzed daily and even during fights.
“I was a snot-nosed kid with a smart-ass attitude who thought I understood what paranormal was because I was one of those things we hunted. Dalton broke me down. He never told me why he’d taken me on as his foster son—” Tears choked him once again, and he lost the ability to take in air. “My parents—”
He stopped and hunched over as the pain hit him in the solar plexus. He tried to breathe past the ache in his heart and stomach. Carrie ran her hand over his back. With slow strokes she brought him back to the present.
“I’m right here for you,” she murmured.
He latched on to her soft, soothing tone, wrapped it around him and let it lift him. Once he could breathe without feeling as if a weight were on his chest, he pushed on. “My parents left me. They just disappeared one night. No evidence of where they went or even if there was foul play.” Flashes of confusion filtered through his pain-ravaged mind as he opened the door to his past.
“The dragon council put me in a foster home while they investigated. Dalton was in town on another case. He came to the house and offered to take me. No reasons, no call ahead. He just showed up. My foster family was already overburdened with more kids than they had room for, and with a sign-off from the council, they allowed him to take me with an agreement that he check in once a year. His reputation as a hunter helped him cut through the red tape and all the interviews.”
Carrie rubbed his back and murmured soft words of encouragement. He didn’t trust his body to hold up if he sank onto the bed. “For the first few months, I was left in a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and fear. I put up walls, and Dalton didn’t help by not talking to me or explaining why he took me in the first place. In the beginning he let me mope and only allowed me to help when I was having clear moments. I found solace in the work. I got to kick ass and work on my issues by hunting others of my kind who’d done wrong. Then I met a girl. She was perfection personified, at least in my puberty-struck mind.”
Carrie made a snorting noise, and Dean chuckled. He took a moment to get his thoughts in order. Even after all these years, his memory of that night was in a jumble. “It’s still a blur for me, but I remember Dalton saying he was going out on a job and to wait by the phone for his call if he needed backup. I told him no problem. But then she calle
d me, and I just…I lost my head. We stayed on the phone for hours. It wasn’t until well after midnight that I realized I had been tying up the line.”
Pain splintered in his heart once more as his chest felt as if it were filled with stone and a rush of hot tears hit him. “He was dead, Carrie. He’d died while I was on the phone with that meaningless girl who I didn’t see after it was all over. She tried calling me, but I didn’t answer, and I never sought her out. It took years.” He whispered the last part. “Years that I wallowed in fear, anguish, horror in my head, in my heart. I failed him. I wasn’t there for him. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I started the hunter business so that hunters could depend on people at home and have a base to come to. They wouldn’t be alone like I was.”
“Dean,” Carrie murmured as she hugged him from the side, squeezing him in her embrace.
“When I met you, I was so fractured. I knew who you were to me, what you would mean to me, and I was terrified I’d let you down, that you’d get hurt, that you’d become like Dalton. I can’t lose you, Carrie.” He turned in her arms. Tears streaked down his face. He flexed his arms to allow movement, lifted his hands, and cupped her face. “I love you, Carrie. I won’t let that happen to you. I won’t abandon you. I won’t lose my head and leave you hanging.”
He turned completely and reached down and hugged her to him, leaning to bury his face in the crook of her neck. “My reasons for hunting the things that go bump in our community are to find out what happened to my parents and make sure it never happens again. But now I hunt to keep you safe and make a world for you that I know you can walk in without the fear of you disappearing.”
She reached up and caressed his cheek. “And I’ll stand by you when you do it. I can’t guarantee that something won’t happen to me, because the nature of our business always changes. But we do what we must.” She lifted on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
Eostre's Baskets: Stacking the Deck Page 6
