Casual Hex

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  The dragon didn’t smell good under normal circumstances, but now that he was turning color and losing life, he smelled even worse. Leo hoped he wouldn’t puke as he crouched down and pressed his lips against the scaly cheek. Ugh.

  “George, the True Guardian of the Whispering Forest, I wish you a long and prosperous life.”

  “Now do Marc,” Dorcas said.

  Leo stood. “I’d appreciate it if you’d rephrase that.”

  “Oh, for Hera’s sake! Now kiss Marc.”

  Leo had never kissed a man on the cheek with the exception of his dad, when he was a little kid who didn’t know any better. This would take fortitude.

  He glanced at Gwendolyn. “This is for you.” Then he got to his knees in the snow and kissed Chevalier’s bristly, very chilly, cheek. “Jean-Marc Chevalier, I wish you a long and prosperous life.” Then he leaped up and backed away, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

  “Step four, sing ‘Imagine’ by John Lennon.”

  “I don’t know all the words!”

  “I’ll help you,” Dorcas said. And she began to sing in a clear voice.

  Leo couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, but he stumbled along with Dorcas, anyway. He could see color was returning to both the dragon and the Frenchman, so he sang louder. Yes! They’d done it!

  Chevalier was the first to sit up and glance around, while Gwendolyn knelt beside him, sobbing and kissing the wound that was already healing.

  “Ce qui s’est passé?” the Frenchman mumbled.

  “N-nothing,” Gwendolyn said as she smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “Just a b-bad dream.”

  “Hey, dudes and dudettes!” George struggled to his feet. “I feel awesome!”

  More than happy to stop looking at Gwendolyn fawning over the Frenchman, Leo turned his attention to the dragon. Whoa.

  “George,” Dorcas said, her voice hushed. “Your scales.”

  “What about ’em?” Then George glanced down at himself. “Cowabunga! Gold city!”

  “Yes!” Dorcas shoved both fists in the air.

  “Party down!” George began to dance and sing something he seemed to be making up on the spot. “It’s good to be gold, so good to be gold, now I can be bold, ’cause I am all GOLD!”

  Soon Dorcas joined him, dancing around the clearing, and then Ambrose joined in. Leo stared at the three of them acting like crazy fools and shook his head. He didn’t get it.

  By now Chevalier was standing and looked pretty healthy for a guy who’d almost died of a poisoned fairy blade. Gwendolyn held his face between her hands. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

  “That makes two of us.” He wound his arms around her waist. “Gwen, we must talk.”

  Leo didn’t like watching them get all kissy-face. It made him sort of sick.

  “I keep thinking this is only a dream,” Gwendolyn said. “But even so—”

  “It is not a dream.” Chevalier looked very intense for a boring botany professor. “That is what we need to talk about.”

  “The thing is, I can’t talk to you anymore. Not in this dream, anyway. I made a promise to Leo.”

  Damn straight! You’re my woman, now! Leo preened, knowing that she was about to tell this bozo adios.

  “What promise?” The Frenchman looked worried.

  “To go with him. He healed you and now I have to go with him to . . . wherever. Some fairy kingdom. And even though I’m sure this is a dream, I’m scared stiff, because I don’t think I’ll ever see you again.”

  “You are not going.” Chevalier’s jaw tightened and he glanced over at Leo. “I am sorry, Atwood. You cannot take her.”

  “Yes, he can.” Gwendolyn pushed away from Chevalier, but she seemed to be in agony over it. “I promised.” She turned to Leo, and her eyes were leaking water again.

  She walked over to him as if about to meet her death. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  He could see she’d be a barrel of laughs if she stayed in this kind of mood. He had a bad feeling that she might be in love with the botany professor. Shit. He shouldn’t care about that. He had his penis to think about.

  But Gwendolyn looked miserable. He wished she’d sass him, but the fight seemed to have gone out of her. She was resigned to her fate, which was him.

  He sighed. “Ah, fugettaboutit,” he said. “Stay with the Frenchman if it makes you happy.” What a chump he was, and his poor penis was SOL, but the words were out now, and he couldn’t very well take them back.

  He’d shocked Gwendolyn all to Hades, though. She was staring at him as if she couldn’t believe he’d said that. He could barely believe it himself.

  “Well done, Prince Leo,” Dorcas said.

  He turned to find her smiling at him. He hadn’t noticed that she and Ambrose had stopped dancing with George, but now all three of them stood watching him. In their eyes he saw something he wasn’t particularly used to—respect.

  He shrugged, not sure how to deal with something like that. “No biggie.”

  “It’s a biggie,” Ambrose said.

  “My curiosity is killing me.” Dorcas gazed at him. “Did you come here to convince Gwen to be your queen?”

  Leo started to say that he’d been sent to do a good deed and boost Gwen’s self-esteem, but that wouldn’t make Gwen feel very good. “You bet.” He decided to embellish on the lie. “I noticed her on a flyby during Christmas and decided I needed some of that for the Kingdom of Atwood.”

  “I wasn’t here over Christmas,” Gwen said. “I was in Yuma.”

  “That’s exactly where I was flying,” Leo said. “Yuma.”

  “I see.” Dorcas didn’t look as if she was buying it, but she seemed to be willing to let it go. “I have to say that I’m more at ease with you taking over the throne after this episode. I’m sure your mother will be, too.”

  “I guess.” Yeah, he’d probably get the throne now. But providing an heir might not be all that simple. He might go down in fairy history as King Leo of the Limp Dick.

  “Thank you, Leo.” Gwendolyn came over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. A sisterly kiss. How depressing.

  “I do have wings, you know,” he said. “I’ll show you.”

  Her eyes widened as he stripped off the black leather jacket. “Leo, for heaven’s sake. It’s freezing out here!”

  “Fairies don’t feel the cold.” Stripping off the T-shirt, he arched his back and his retractable wings unfurled.

  She gasped.

  He took some satisfaction in that. Those white wings were pretty impressive. Maybe she’d have a little twinge of regret. He glanced over, but she didn’t look as if she regretted anything. He had her attention, but she hadn’t let go of the Frenchman.

  Oh, well. If he couldn’t have the girl, he’d at least go for the dramatic exit.

  Except he couldn’t think of a good exit line. We’ll always have Paris? No good. Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn? That didn’t quite fit, either.

  He was losing the moment. He flapped his wings. “Hasta la vista, baby.” It wasn’t great, but he’d go with it so he could get the hell out of there. He flew upward into the swirling snow.

  An hour later, Marc sat across from Gwen at her kitchen table. Both of them held on to mugs of steaming coffee as if they were life preservers. Marc let go of his long enough to touch his throat where the fairy blade had cut him and nearly ended his life. There was nothing there now, not even a scar.

  “I just know I’m going to wake up any minute.” Gwen had said something similar several times in the past hour. She had taken off her coat and boots and put on her furry robe and slippers, as if trying to return to the moment before Leo had appeared in her living room.

  “It is a lot to take in all at once.” But Marc was determined to help her do it. The world was not as either of them imagined, but that meant the possibilities were larger and more amazing, too. He was exhilarated by the prospects.

  Gwen did not seem to share that emotion. Dorcas had taken him aside to sa
y that if Gwen wanted to believe she had dreamed all that had happened, he should let her do that. Some people were not able to accept the world of magic, according to Dorcas. Gwen might be one of those.

  But Marc wanted Gwen to be in on it with him. He wanted her to acknowledge the incredible phenomenon they had glimpsed, even if it contradicted every no-nonsense bone in her body. Marc had not processed it all thoroughly himself, but he was not trying to deny it. She was.

  “A dragon.” Gwen shook her head. “That’s so ridiculous.”

  “I know. But he is not a trick. He exists.” Marc planned to make one more trip out to talk with George before leaving for Chicago. He had considered skipping the conference, but that would leave them without a main speaker. Even so, he was toying with the idea of staying here.

  Right now, though, both he and Gwen needed to rest and regroup, let the adrenaline rush wear off. Dorcas and Ambrose obviously had recognized that. Once Leo was gone, they had suggested everyone call it a night.

  Before leaving the forest, Dorcas and Ambrose promised George a party the next night, because he wanted to celebrate his newfound goldness. The dragon also discovered a new sensitivity to his environment. Now that he was a True Guardian, he could tell when anything was out of place in the forest.

  In no time he plucked the diamond bracelet out of the bushes and handed it to Dorcas. Then he proudly located the missing part of Ambrose’s staff and produced Gwen’s keys. He also agreed to talk to the raccoons about returning some cases of beer they had borrowed from the Big Knobian.

  After they left George, Dorcas and Ambrose had returned to Gwen’s house briefly so that Dorcas could repair Gwen’s destroyed kitchen window. Marc had hoped Gwen would be as fascinated by that as he was. Instead she managed to be in another part of the house while it happened.

  Dorcas had also quietly put Gwen’s clothes and suitcase back in her closet. Gwen paid no attention to what Dorcas was doing in that regard, either, as if shutting out the truth would make it go away.

  She does not want to know what she knows. But Marc could not imagine how she could deny what she had seen. She had heard, smelled, tasted and touched magic tonight. She had to acknowledge that, did she not?

  He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Are you all right, cherie?”

  She met his gaze. “We should go to bed.”

  “That is a good idea.” He wanted desperately to hold her. If she was willing, he would make love to her, too. He would try anything to help her acknowledge what had happened to them.

  She pushed back her chair. “The sooner we go to bed, the sooner we will wake up and realize this was all a crazy, crazy dream.”

  Surely she would not be able to convince herself of that! In a way, he wished Dorcas had not repaired the window and put away Gwen’s clothes, so he would have evidence he could use to make his point. Maybe that damned turban was still hanging on the bedpost. Much as he hated to think of Leo’s involvement with Gwen, he almost hoped the turban was there.

  Chapter 24

  In the bedroom, Gwen looked around and could see no evidence of a fairy prince who could sprout wings and fly away. She must have imagined it all, because winged fairies didn’t exist and neither did golden dragons. Magic wands couldn’t repair windows, and Marc hadn’t really been about to die from a dagger’s wound.

  Marc had no wings or dragon scales. He didn’t use wands or magic spells. He was simply a man.

  Hungry for that kind of normalcy, she stripped off her nightgown and climbed into bed with him, needing his warmth and his strength. If this was dream sex, at least Marc hadn’t shown up in a fantasy costume or called her Gwendolyn.

  Most of all, she could sense that he cared for her, that this wasn’t simply a game or a chance for physical release. Marc wasn’t touching some generic woman’s body; he was caressing hers. In the short time they’d been lovers, he’d learned the spots that triggered a response in her, and now he kissed them all—behind her ear, beneath her breast, inside her elbow and behind her knee.

  His beard scratched a little, and that was fine with her. It was a reminder that he was flesh and blood, not some creation of her dream world. He wasn’t the smoothest lover in the world, but he was an honest one.

  Even the condom he unrolled was a testament to his human traits. She was reassured by the ordinariness of it all as he snapped the condom into place.

  But there was nothing ordinary about joining her body with his. She knew how quickly she could be swept away and wondered if she was too fragile right now to handle the intense feelings he generated within her.

  As if sensing her hesitation, he rolled to his back and invited her to take him, instead of the other way around. He gave her the most precious gift of all—control. She was thirsting for it.

  She straddled him, stroked herself lightly over his erection, and found the exact spot where one downward movement would lock them together and begin the dance. Yet she held herself slightly apart from him, not quite ready to make that commitment.

  Although she was throbbing and wet with desire, still she swayed above him, unsure. “It scares me how much I want you,” she confessed.

  “I know, cherie,” he murmured. “I am scared, as well.”

  “You’ve become so important to me.”

  He bracketed her hips in his large hands. “And you to me. But we can give each other courage.”

  With a groan of surrender, she impaled herself, taking him up to the hilt. Yes, this was right and true. She could believe in this connection with Marc.

  Slowly she began to move, listening to his breathing, hearing the catch as he drew closer to his release. The tension built within her in tandem with his response. She didn’t have to work at it, didn’t have to orchestrate anything. They were in tune, and that was all that mattered.

  “Marc, I love you.” The words spilled out before she could censor them.

  His fingers dug into her hips, holding her tight, stopping her movement. “Pardon?”

  She couldn’t take it back and didn’t even want to. “I love you.”

  His intense blue eyes held hers as surely as his hands kept her from moving. “And I love you. You were prepared to sacrifice yourself for me.”

  “It was only a dream.”

  “But it felt real, did it not? The sacrifice felt real.”

  She couldn’t deny that. “Yes. I thought you were dying.”

  “I was.” He held her, but his eyes darkened. “I am alive because of you.”

  She started to deny it, but then she felt him pulse within her, and her womb answered. With a cry he surged upward, his gaze locked with hers. She was helpless to stop the orgasm that rolled through her in perfect rhythm with his.

  She’d never known anything like this moment—each of them giving the other all that was in them, all that they knew, all that they were.

  As the intensity gradually ebbed, she felt a moment of unease. If the rest had been a dream, then this moment couldn’t be real, either. She desperately wanted it to be.

  Dorcas and Ambrose cuddled in bed, spent after celebrating George’s transformation with a round of hot sex.

  “I glanced at that set of instructions for reversing the dagger’s poison,” Ambrose said. “There were only three steps. I didn’t see a thing about singing John Lennon’s song.”

  Dorcas laughed. “I threw that in. After all Leo put us through, I decided he should have to complete as many embarrassing moves as I could dream up. I was trying to come up with a step five, but I could tell George and Marc were reviving and I wouldn’t get away with it.”

  “Looks like our soul mates are in love.”

  “Yes, but it’s not a done deal.” Dorcas laid her head in the curve of Ambrose’s shoulder. “Marc wants her to accept the magic and she’s resisting. I advised him to let her opt out, but that’s not the kind of partnership he wants.”

  “Did you tell him we have two mixed couples in town already?”

  “
I started to, but Gwen interrupted our conversation. But how other couples handle it wouldn’t matter to Marc. Both Annie and Maggie are happy keeping their husbands in the dark. Maybe it’s because they’re women.”

  “Hey.” Ambrose gave her a pinch on the butt.

  “Kidding. Sort of. It might have nothing to do with gender, but Marc definitely wants his life partner to share his enthusiasm for the unknown. Scientific adventure is part of his DNA.”

  “Could it be a deal-breaker?”

  Dorcas sighed. “I hope not.”

  “I hope not, either, because once we wind up the Gwen and Marc project, we’re free to leave Big Knob.”

  “I wouldn’t mind hanging around to see Dee-Dee’s baby lake monsters born.” Dorcas made it sound like a casual request.

  “That could be months.”

  Exactly. Dorcas was prepared to stall the move for as long as possible. “Maybe not. Oh, and we have to make sure Maggie has another job lined up. We can’t leave her stranded with nothing. She needs the money and the mental stimulation.”

  “I’ve already thought of that. She could work with Clem Loudermilk to market his new line of bras. He’s planning to sell them himself instead of leasing the patent to a major company like he did before.”

  Dorcas tried to picture Maggie working for Clem. She couldn’t imagine Maggie being happy there. “We’ll see.” She hadn’t figured out a way to convince Ambrose to stay, but now that George had his golden scales, she’d have to find something tout suite, as Marc would say.

  She didn’t want Marc and Gwen to have problems with their relationship, but on the positive side, problems would give Dorcas an excuse to hang around town a while longer.

  Waking up next to Gwen was even more wonderful the second morning than it had been the first. For a few moments Marc simply watched her sleep. He wanted her again, but he also knew they had a few hurdles to face and they were running short on time.

  Making love all morning sounded merveilleux, but she would want to open her shop after keeping it closed half the day yesterday. He had to decide whether he was truly going to Chicago. If not, he owed the conference committee a phone call at the very least.