“You’re beautiful.” His voice was like a caress, sweeping a path from my ears to my heart to some place deeper. That deeper place began to smolder.
I licked my lips and averted my eyes, searching for the ability to take a real breath. Apparently breathing was a little too difficult for me because I began panting. It was all I could do to grab my glass of water and take a drink.
Beck laughed and I felt embarrassment burn my cheeks. I was behaving like an insipid twit.
“Since how good you look to me seems to make you nervous, we’ll change the subject. You left your scribbles on the table in the kitchen. You know, if anyone else saw it they’d probably think you either should be on the FBI want list or you’re insane.”
Laughter didn’t come easy for me, but somehow Beck always managed to pull it out of me. I chuckled and shoved my plate away from me, slouching down in my seat. “Yeah? What’s wrong with my scribbles?”
I knew what he was talking about. The fact that I left them there on his table was another example of how relaxed I was in his surroundings. My personal notes were like state secrets to me. I kept them at home locked in my desk drawer.
“Something about Barney Fife and black magic and a bunch of IP addresses. Oh yeah, and a bounty hunter.”
I snorted.
“You’re not really an internet terrorist or a hacker or something, are you?”
I laughed again, shaking my head and winking at him. Since when do you wink? The little voice in my head mocked me and I mentally stuck my tongue out at her.
“C’mon, Lynlee. Tell me what you’re up to. I already know what Barney Fife is. The homeowner’s association is messing with you again, right?”
I took another sip of water and tugged a folded up piece of paper from my purse. “Yeah, I got another notice about my shed. I wrote a hasty letter. Maybe you could tone it down for me?”
Beck grinned from one side of his mouth. “If it were up to me, you’d sell that place and come stay with us.” But he opened up the paper and began to read my response note.
If I weren’t so well-schooled at keeping all outward displays of emotion in check, we might have heard the sound of my jaw hitting the table. As it was, my eyes widened a bit and I sat up straight to give him my full attention.
“I don’t remember that being on the table.” He glanced up and opened his mouth to speak, but I raised my hand to stop him. For added effect, I shook my head and grabbed the ticket for the meal. “We’re not putting it on the table right now either, Beck.”
I didn’t give him the chance to argue as I headed to the register to pay for the meal. A few moments later, he had the kids corralled and we were all heading to the car. I gave him an uneasy look as we drove off. His smile said all was well. He had pushed, I’d rebuffed, and now we were back on comfortable ground. I sighed long and hard.
Beck got the kids into bed while I fixed myself a glass of wine. I took a long, deep drink before filling the glass back to the top and waited. He searched me out a few moments later, finding me in the living room, legs curled up to my chest and my cheek atop my knees.
“Come here, you.” He spoke in a deep tone as he settled down on the opposite end of the divan. I took his offered hand and he pulled me back against his chest, between his legs. “I missed you.”
“You haven’t been gone that long.” I did my best to sound nonchalant.
He nuzzled my neck and I felt my blood surge hot in my veins. I placed my hands on his knees, squeezing as his hot breath tickled behind my ear. “Oh, Beck… I need you.”
The words were barely out of my mouth before his mouth claimed my lips. I groaned, turning my neck to kiss him deeper while his arms snaked around my waist. His fingers dug into my skin as he struggled to turn my body around to face him. I helped, squirming but not allowing our lips to part completely.
Once I was forward, we managed to move in tandem, my legs opening to straddle his thighs as he lay back, taking me with him. My body was close to combusting when his hands cupped my rear; I wanted to moan but it sounded more to my ears like a squeal.
“Lynlee, it doesn’t matter that I haven’t been gone long. I miss you when we’re not together. I want you so bad right now…”
I couldn’t speak. My mind was swarming with decadent curls of heat. There was nothing else in the world except being with Beck, joining with Beck in that moment.
Nothing except the feeling that I was being watched. I sat up and opened my eyes, blinking to clear the fog. Beck wasn’t quite so quick to adjust. About the time his hands reached up for my breasts, I saw Justin peeking around the corner of the hallway at us.
“Justin?” I took Beck’s hands and shoved them down away from me. He reacted so quickly he almost tossed me to the floor. I recovered my balance and slid off his body and onto the couch.
Tears were welling, unshed, in Justin’s eyes. I could see the brave boy battling the scared child within him, and my heart wanted to break. “I had a bad dream, Daddy.”
I wasn’t sure what had me grumblier—another ruined romantic evening with my boyfriend or the guilt gnawing at me over Justin’s nightmare. Although Beck said it wasn’t necessary, I could see Justin needed his dad’s undivided attention, so I left pretty quickly after the boy interrupted our private time.
Before I got away, Beck did give me some suggestions about my letter to the Mayberry Seven, so the next morning I decided to take some time to redraft the letter. My feelings were a little hurt when he told me he thought the shed did need to be painted. I really liked the rustic look of that building, but I supposed I had to follow at least some of the rules.
After I finished my partial apology/partial notice that I would fix the shed, I called a few contractors about starting the work.
My luncheon with Rhiannon was just an hour away, but before that I had decided to see Sandy. It wasn’t a stretch to presume that Justin’s bad dream was because of the suspense book I read him. I had to imagine the prospect of young women being flayed of their skin could cause a nightmare for a kid his age. Geez, what the hell was I thinking?
Believe it or not, Sandy the Sandman daylighted as a greeter at a megastore in Arizona since he liked people and his paranormal job didn’t really let him mingle. Oh, and his name wasn’t really Sandy—it was Bartholomew. He liked to think of Bartholomew as his Clark Kent persona and Sandy as his Superman identity.
Hey, MAUCs could sometimes be a little weird.
He was surprised to see me but grinned big and put out his hand. I shook it firmly, slipping my fingers away when he dared to hold it a little longer than necessary. Sandy always did have a crush on me, and I made it a point not to take advantage of that. I rarely called upon him for help and when I did, I always offered something—besides myself—in return.
“Thanks for your help the other night. You know I like to keep us even, so before I ask another favor, what can I do to thank you?”
He brushed his dark hair out of his eyes and grinned before looking over his shoulder. “Miss Doris?”
A plump woman glanced up at him then looked at her watch. She inflected her head and waved her hand in the air to indicate an answer to his unspoken question.
“I can take my break. How about a cup of coffee?”
I raised an eyebrow and studied his eyes a moment. Finally I nodded and motioned for him to lead the way. A few moments later, drinks in hand, we took a seat in a far corner where we could have a bit of privacy.
“I don’t like the tit for tat, Lynlee. We’re friends. Can’t it just be that way?”
I looked at him straight, keeping my expression kind but not affectionate. “I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding between us, Sandy.”
His smile was disarming. He might have been Christopher Reeves’ Clark Kent minus the glasses—a tad nerdy but damn attractive too. “I know I fawned all over you before. What can I say, a pretty lady like you and all? But I’ve known where we stood for a long time and I’m good with that. You do
n’t need to manage my feelings, Lynlee. Besides, I have a girl now.”
That took me aback and I blinked a few times. I felt a little conceited in that moment, wondering if I was just really self-absorbed to believe he was still hung up on me. “That’s great, Sandy. Who is the lucky MAUC?”
He winked and took a drink. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” After a brief laugh, he set his cup down and leaned back with his hands in his lap. “So now that we’ve got that cleared up, what can I do for you today?”
“Ah, yes… well you know that boy you helped me with the other night?”
He inclined his head in the affirmative.
“Well, could you visit him for a while? I may have done something to give him some, shall we say, scary dreams and I’d like to help him out.”
“He’s your boyfriend’s kid, huh?”
My brows drew together in a frown that was so intense it hurt my head a little. I touched the bandage before speaking. “Boyfriend?”
Sandy snorted with laughter and slapped his hand onto the table. “Don’t worry, my friend. It’s not a secret. The word is out among MAUCs that you’re off the market. Lots of sad guys and probably a few girls, but it’s all good. There are other mermaids in the ocean.”
That didn’t make me feel any better. I liked my personal business to be… well, to be personal. It didn’t sit well with me that my dating life was a topic of conversation in the paranormal world.
Sandy leaned forward and picked something up off the table, inspecting it between two fingers before dropping it onto the floor. “Do you really have ants on your head?”
I gasped. One hand was around my Styrofoam coffee cup and I squeezed it so hard it almost cracked open. “What the hell, Sandy? Is Rhiannon the one who’s been sharing details about my life with everyone?”
He narrowed his eyes, though his lips held a grin. His sooty lashes fluttered as he closed his eyes a few times before speaking. “So she’s the one who doctored you up, huh? Should’ve known. She loves that native-type stuff.” He pointed to the floor and I glanced down at a little black speck. “She hasn’t shared any details with me, Lynlee. But you dropped one of your ants when you touched your head a minute ago.”
If I could have gotten away with it, I would have conjured my wand and created a hole in the floor so I could crawl inside to hide in mortification. Instead, I thanked Sandy for his help, assured him I’d return the favor, then got the heck out of there as quickly as I could
~oOo~
“I’ve never studied it in detail, as in taken samples or anything. I just know what I’ve been told. Also, what I’ve experienced. It’s almost impossible to explain the experience of when a shifter changes.”
I took a huge bite of the raspberry dark chocolate cheesecake Rhiannon and I were sharing. Lucky for me she wasn’t much into sweets, so I didn’t have to compete too heavily for my fair share. If it were a T-bone, we’d be having issues.
I had received a response from Tig advising that he wanted me to try to track down Susan Abernathy, the dark witch, so I continued my investigation by asking Rhia about the werecat blood.
“Well, if there’s power in the blood then I have to think that means Susan Abernathy is planning a pretty strong potion. And judging by what I know of her actions to date, I imagine she’s up to something nefarious.” I mused while waiting for Rhiannon to take another forkful of cheesecake.
She held the bite suspended in front of her mouth while she spoke. “So whatcha going to do?”
Tapping my fork on the plate between us, I scrunched up my face in thought. The bandage shifted on my face and I rubbed at it in frustration. “When can I take this thing off?”
Rhia rolled her eyes at me, probably thinking me a petulant child. “Let’s take a look.”
I flinched when the tape pulled at some hair and hoped I’d still have an eyebrow left on that side.
“Wow,” she muttered, cupping her hand to catch the little flecks of ant falling away from my skin. “It must be the witch in you because it’s pretty much healed over. Still bruised up, but the gash is almost gone.”
“Thank goodness. No more ants? No more bandage?” There was a tone of pleading in my voice.
Rhiannon shook her head and flicked at the skin a few times, again recovering the little ant carcasses in her palm. With a dramatic sweep she dropped the little bugs onto her empty lunch plate. “Okay, if you’re done worrying over your boo-boo, maybe you can tell me what you’re going to do?”
I could feel her watching me and knew as well as she did that there was only one thing for me to do. The wolfish grin on her face said she knew how much I was going to hate doing it too.
Being a witch or warlock is hereditary. Usually the magic isn’t transferred directly from a parent to child, but lies dormant for as many as twenty generations before it reappears. That makes it pretty tough for a witch to prepare the heirs for the witchcraft or their powers.
Before me, the last person in my family to possess magic was my great-great-great-grandmother. Dorothea Lincoln was not a very nice lady. The story goes that her magic made her the black sheep of her family, and although she never used it for evil, so to speak, she was still left alone. Now, I have my theories that she was just a real pain in the rear and that’s what forced her to be a hermit.
Great-great-great-granny insists otherwise.
I asked Rhia to join me, thinking she might have some bright ideas if she heard what Granny had to say. Back at my house, we went into to my expansive cedar closet and found the mirror that was passed down in my family for centuries.
The term mirror is applied loosely because it’s actually just a highly polished piece of silver from somewhere around 1000 to 1200 A.D. I kept it safe here in the closet, not because I was afraid it would get stolen, but because people tended to want to put their grubby hands all over it. The silver would then need a polishing which would leave it with that much less silver.
“You gonna keep stalling or call on her already?” Rhia pressed, seating herself at the dressing table against the wall.
I propped the mirror on the wooden stand I had made for it and tapped the shiny side three times with the tip of my finger.
“Shine and look and see it true. Vision me and vision you. Come to me and speak anew. Granny dear, tell me please what to do.”
The silver began to sizzle and shudder, turning red hot and glowing. I heard her muttering under her breath before her image appeared in the mirror. She was scowling as usual.
“Lynlee Renee Lincoln, when will you ever learn to write a proper spell? That is absolutely atrocious.”
“You told me to make my spells my way. I’m only following your instructions, Granny.”
She hated being called “Granny.” I thought it sounded pretty stupid myself, but if it irritated her then it was worth it. I watched her nose pinch as her frown tightened.
“What can I do for you, my errant granddaughter? You only ever interrupt my eternity when you need help.”
Well, duh. That was the purpose of the mirror—so I could contact her when I had questions about magic. I swallowed the nasty comments on the tip of my tongue.
“There’s a dark witch who we think may be up to something. She’s trying to acquire some werecat blood.”
I tried to see what Granny was up to, squinting and moving my face close to the mirror so I could better look inside. Her feet appeared to be propped up and there was movement between her legs. She still donned the same flowing gowns fashionable during her own time period even in the afterlife.
“Are you getting a pedicure?” I gawked, moving so close to the mirror that I might have been able to poke my head inside.
“Lynlee, stay on task.”
I snapped back to stand at attention, feeling like a child getting her hand slapped.
“Okay, so about the dark witch… If she’s brewing up some concoction with werecat blood, what could her plan be?”
Granny rolled her eyes and adjusted he
r skirts as she sat up. “Well, I don’t know, Lynlee. Let me consult my tarot cards and I’ll tell you what her plan is. Oh that’s right, I forgot. I live in eternity and no longer have tarot cards.”
“Pfft! She’s such a trip.” Rhiannon spoke from behind me, and I was tempted to toss the mirror at her.
“Ah, is that the doctor werewolf there? Hello, Wolfie. Nice of you to join us again. I think my granddaughter is afraid to call on me by herself.”
“Hey, Dot. You’re looking lovely as always.”
Glancing at her over my shoulder, I growled at Rhia. She laughed and waved her hand at me.
“Now back to the issue at hand. I am not a dark witch, Missy, so I would have no idea what this mockery of magic could be planning. However, any witch, dark or light, might from time to time find the need to enhance a spell. One of the ways to do that is with an injection of some other magic.”
“So she could be planning anything then? That certainly narrows it down.”
“I think you may be looking in the wrong direction, Missy. You don’t need to determine what the spell is. You need to determine what her next step will be. Think like she thinks.”
Riddles like this hacked me off more than just about anything. I mean, what the heck is so hard about just saying whatever it is you mean?
“Could you be more specific?” I asked through clinched teeth.
“You said she was attempting to acquire werecat blood.”
It took me a moment to realize what she was saying. Her emphasis was on the word attempting.
“What else is as powerful as werecat blood?”
“Oh dear, will you look at the time…” Dot glanced at her wrist as if she had a watch, which she did not. The mirror glowed bright before it fizzled out. Granny was gone.
The sound of my telephone ringing woke me with a start. I was at my desk with four books of spells open and strewn about. My head had been resting atop the hand holding my pencil, and when I touched my cheek I could feel a long indentation in the skin.
A Bundle of Trouble (The Lynlee Lincoln Sets Book 1) Page 11
