by Sandy James
Dolan got up from the chair and came to stand next to her. “You’re hurt, mistress.” He tugged a small embroidered handkerchief from the pocket of his chocolate-brown vest and dabbed it under her nose. “Would you wish me to tend to your injuries?”
The blood on the cloth came as a surprise, but after the dozens of times Artair had dropped her on her face, it wasn’t totally unexpected. “No, I’m not hurt. I’m just really sore and very, very tired.” Dolan didn’t look convinced and held up the handkerchief as if she hadn’t seen the dark stain. “Really, Dolan. I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. Nothing an hour in a hot tub and some aspirin wouldn’t cure.”
“A shame we don’t have that hot tub,” Megan added. “I tried wishing for a whirlpool spa, but…” She shrugged and frowned at the changelings before she turned her attention back to the pretty-boy Sentinel.
Dolan glanced to Beagan, who gave a curt nod. Something was being conspired, but when Dolan glanced over at Megan, Rebecca realized they didn’t want to talk in front of her friend.
“We will help you soon, mistress,” Dolan said. “We beg your patience.”
“It’s fine, honey. I’m just going to rest awhile.”
The changelings hurried out of the cabin.
Kicking off her shoes and pulling off her socks, she flopped down. She closed her eyes, not caring that her cabin was akin to Grand Central Station.
“Can’t you hear anything I’m saying?” a deep baritone voice suddenly boomed through the speakers.
Rebecca opened her eyes and looked at the monitor.
“Well, we sure can now. Damn, your voice is annoying,” Megan answered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “We can see you and hear you. I know! It must be magic from the goddesses. What do you call this new machine, this miracle that allows me to communicate with you from such great distances?”
Rebecca chuckled. The guy had it coming for trying to take Artair’s job.
“Stop being sarcastic,” he replied. “The stupid speakers are plug-and-play. You shouldn’t have had so much trouble. I shouldn’t have to come all the way from California to teach you how to set up a damn computer. The stuff I sent is idiot-proof.”
“Told you he was a surfer,” Megan said over her shoulder. She sat down on the desk chair that Beagan had vacated. “Who in the hell are you?”
The blond was incensed. “I still don’t have a picture, but your voice is coming through now. You must be Rebecca. You should learn more respect when you’re speaking to your Sentinel.”
“Screw that, buddy. You’re not my Sentinel.” Megan leaned back in the chair. “Artie’s my Sentinel. You, my friend, are an annoying little geek who seems to think everyone in the world should understand computers as well as you do.” She chuckled. “Do you play Dungeons & Dragons in your spare time? Or do you just download nudie pictures of movie stars?”
Rebecca closed her eyes again. She was too tired to spar with another Sentinel, especially one who seemed to suffer from the same enormous ego as Artair. Megan could go ahead and pretend to be Earth just to see how long it took the guy to figure out who he was really talking to.
“Well? Do you?” Megan asked. “Or are role-playing video games more your style?”
“You’re not at all the way Rhiannon described,” he complained. “The goddess told me you were… Well, the word she used was ‘pliable.’”
Rebecca couldn’t keep quiet at the insult. “I’ll show Rhiannon how freakin’ pliable I am.”
Megan put her palm over the microphone. “Shh. Let’s see how this plays out.” She turned her attention back to the computer.
“Pliable, huh?” she asked. “And you don’t think I’m pliable? What’s your name?”
“Johann Herrmann.”
“Well, Joeman—”
“Johann. My name’s Yo-hawn. It’s German.”
“Whatever. You can tell Rhiannon that Rebecca Massee is one kick-ass Amazon. I used my powers today. Brought my Sentinel down with killer kudzu.”
Some feminine laughter drew Rebecca’s attention. The other Amazons. Their spirits were so strong, they could have been standing in the cabin. A woman elbowed her way in front of Johann to get her face on screen.
“Rebecca? Is that you? I can’t see you. Did you say you used your powers? That’s wonderful,” a pretty brunette with short hair said. An enormous grin lit her face and her brown eyes shone bright. “I’m Gina. I’m Air. I can’t wait until we get to Avalon to meet you and Megan. I feel like we already know you both!”
A beautifully exotic Indian woman pushed her way into the picture. “I’m Sarita. You know, Water. I’m looking forward to meeting you and Megan too.”
Megan glanced back at Rebecca, the guilt plain in her eyes. Rebecca gave her a brisk nod. Gina and Sarita would figure out who was who soon, and the new Sentinel needed a serious attitude adjustment. Megan returned the nod as a mischievous grin spread across her lips.
She turned back to the computer. “Nice to talk to both of you. I’m sure Megan will be thrilled we can all talk now. Tell Joeman we’re looking forward to meeting him, too. We’ll pencil in an appointment for him in, oh, let’s say…five years.”
Rebecca half dozed as Megan chatted with the West Coast Amazons. The opening of her cabin door jarred her awake. Beagan and Dolan had returned, carrying clothing and towels. She gave them both a smile, figuring her nap was over.
When Megan bid her new sisters farewell and signed off, she whirled her chair around to face the bed. “Thanks for playing along.”
“He was begging for it. Besides, if Johann thinks he’s going to be a Sentinel, he better learn to deal with some Amazon pranks.” Rebecca sat up and stretched before grimacing at the stiffness that had settled over her muscles. “I’m going to take a hot shower. Then I think I’ll come back here and fall into a coma.”
“Using your powers takes a lot out of you, doesn’t it? But, damn, you did good. Knocked Artie on his Scottish arse.” She pumped a fist in the air. “You go, girl.”
“Thanks.” Rebecca took a small bundle of clothing from Dolan. He crooked his finger at her. “What?”
“A secret, mistress.” That little finger crooked again. She bent over so he could whisper in her ear. “Follow me. I have a wonderful surprise for you. But just for you.” The giggling changeling headed out the door. She had no choice but to follow. She waved at Megan then chased after Dolan, wondering just what surprise he had in store.
Chapter Ten
Rebecca squealed in delight when the changeling showed her the hot spring.
Nature’s hot tub, Dolan had told her when he led her to the pool hidden deep in the woods near the cabins. He’d given her a pink bikini and a huge, fluffy towel and left her alone in the place he called Eden.
The glen was aptly named. Even in the fading light, the beauty surrounded her. Lush greenery. Colorful flowers. Crystal clear water. She owed the little shape-shifters something nice for showing her this place. Maybe she could scrape up ingredients to bake them some chocolate-chip cookies. Or maybe they preferred cereal and marshmallow treats.
Flat stones lined the hot spring which was surrounded by soft, verdant moss. No doubt magic was involved in its creation, but Rebecca found it easier and easier to accept this new world that had opened up to her.
There wasn’t a secluded place to change, and she glanced around to be sure Dolan hadn’t stayed close to her side. For all she knew he could be the squirrel sitting to her left, twitching its nose at her. With a resigned sigh and a near desperate need to rid herself of her aches and pains, she jerked off her shirt. A rustling of leaves sounded over her shoulder. Clutching the shirt to her chest, she whirled around to find nothing but the still woods. She took off the rest of her workout clothes and donned the bikini.
Bikinis had never suited her curvy shape, but this one fit and an inviting pool of hot water waited for her. Grabbing her towel, she dropped it next to the stone steps leading into the hot spring and stepped into the w
ater.
The spring was the perfect temperature, and her leg muscles relaxed with each inch she descended into the warmth. Feeling along the wall, she found a stone ledge she used as a seat, immersing herself up to her armpits. Heaven. I’m in heaven. With a sigh, she laid her head back on the soft moss and closed her eyes.
* * *
Artair lifted his hand to his chin, wondering if he was drooling.
It hadn’t been gentlemanly to watch Rebecca change her clothing. Not gentlemanly at all. But he didn’t feel like a gentleman around Rebecca Massee. He felt like a man in love.
She was perfect, every single inch of her. From her sun-kissed hair to her flawlessly formed breasts to her shapely hips and long legs. He wanted her. He wanted to run his palms over her smooth skin, wanted to kiss her until she sagged against him, and he wanted to take her to paradise.
The bruises he’d put on her beautiful body during training made him wince, but she was an Amazon. Most would be faded and forgotten in the span of a day or two.
Eden had always been his secret, and he’d selfishly kept it from his Amazons for more than two centuries. Artair needed a place to escape the women, and Eden gave him respite from his work. Here he could rest his tired body and reason his way through his problems.
Yet tonight, his biggest problem had journeyed to his secluded glen. Beagan and Dolan had to have told her of its existence—that spoke volumes of their opinions of Rebecca.
Artair slowly worked his way to the end of the spring where she rested. He fantasized about slipping into the water, taking her into his arms and coaxing her to respond. Her kiss would be welcoming and deep. She’d beg him for more. He’d slip off that pink barrier, have her straddle his lap and bury himself inside the part of her he knew would offer more pleasure than the real Eden. With a shake of his head, he took a different and much saner approach.
Silently creeping up, he crouched next to her. Slipping his hands to where her shoulders met slender neck, he rubbed out the knots he found there.
Rebecca never even opened her eyes. “Oh, Dolan,” she purred, relaxing to his touch. “Mmm. That feels wonderful. But you don’t have to do that. I don’t expect you to be my masseur.”
He smiled to himself as his hands rubbed her tight and sore muscles. So trusting. So easy to please. She was unlike any woman he’d ever known. Her muscles began to relax to his gentle pressure as her head fell to her right to give him better access when he worked his fingers over a particularly nasty tightness.
“Um. That feels so good. Wow, your fingers are like magic.”
Tired of letting the changeling get credit for his hard work, Artair announced his presence. “Aye, my hands can do much to make your body feel pleasure.”
Rebecca jerked away, placing her right hand over her heart. She shot a nasty frown over her shoulder. “Artair. For the love of God, you scared the life out of me.”
“My apologies. ’Twas just you looked in need of some tender care, and since I was the one who gave you most of your pains, I thought to ease them.”
“What are you doing here?” She eyed him suspiciously, not that he could blame her. Only hours ago he’d been repeatedly throwing her to the ground.
“Same as you,” he replied, rising to his feet.
“I was here first. You can’t stay. I’m—” She glanced down to her chest, then sank deeper in the water. “I’m not dressed.”
He chuckled. “’Tis nae a place for clothing, lass.”
The lingering anger was still plain in her eyes. “You wanted to send me back.”
“Aye.”
“You hurt me.”
He couldn’t believe he actually felt guilty about the marks he’d inflicted on her body. He was her Sentinel, her trainer. Injuries came along with the bargain—both hers and his. “Aye, but the bruises will heal.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And what did you mean? Yer bloody nose?”
She was shaking her head before he even finished speaking. “You lost faith in me. I was trying, Artair. I really was.”
“Becca mine, I didn’t lose—”
“Yes, you did. Just listen to me for a minute. I know I’m slow to learn, especially physical stuff, but I always get it. I promise. I always get it in the end.” Her face was fixed with a frown. “Do you think you can sit down or something? It hurts my neck to keep looking up at you. I’m already stiff enough.”
So am I.
The time had come to make a choice. From the moment he’d met Rebecca Massee, he’d hidden his feelings. With the exception of the kiss they’d shared, he’d been as discreet as possible, battling each and every day to keep his emotional distance. As he’d gotten to know her, to know the beautiful and warm woman he admired and desired, he realized how rare a find she truly was.
For the first time in his life, he stopped fighting and surrendered to what was inevitable.
Artair took his clan’s jeweled brooch off his plaid before he pulled the material from his shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going in for a soak. You’ll nae have to get a crick in yer neck if we’re on the same level.”
“You’re coming in?”
“Aye. ’Tis not an easy task to train an Amazon. Especially a stubborn one. My body aches, and you aren’t the only one who enjoys the hot spring.”
* * *
Rebecca wasn’t sure what to think. Artair stared at her as he worked his way out of his plaid, and the intensity of his gaze set butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She distracted herself looking around at the flowers lining the glade.
Today, for the first time, her power coursed through her. Today she had channeled her fear and love for Megan and Sparks and turned it loose. Today she had brought those vines hurtling from the ground to bring down the person who could have torn her from her sisters.
Something else, something she hadn’t shared with her Guardian or her Sentinel had happened. As she’d stood above Artair, her victory within her grasp, memories had flooded her mind. She could see other Amazons, standing on the same patch of earth. Some had won their fight. Some had lost. But for that moment, she’d known what had happened on that very spot, as if the Earth itself was passing the recollections to her.
Oh, yes. Today she was an Amazon. The Earth Amazon.
The announcement of her pride and satisfaction stuck in her throat when she saw him standing on the stone steps. Naked. Her mouth went dry.
Rebecca had seen him before. Not splendidly bare, but he trained in skintight workout pants and often threw his shirt aside when he got too sweaty. She’d admired his arms, his chest, his back. That gorgeous ass that begged to be squeezed. She’d imagined smoothing her fingertips over every plane on his bronzed body, but she hadn’t seen him in all his glory.
And she sure as hell hadn’t seen him aroused.
Immersing his body in the water, Artair moved to the opposite side of the small pool, sat down and stretched his arms out to rest on the moss. His stare became intense, as if daring her to mention what she’d just seen. Instead, she glanced away. His responding chuckle spread a hot flush over her body.
“’Tis nae a crime to look, Becca.”
Finding something other than his nakedness she could use to make conversation, she turned back to him. “Why do you call me that? Why do you always call me Becca instead of Rebecca?”
A smile crossed his lips. “You’ve never looked like a Rebecca to me. A sour-faced woman in my clan carried that name. I cannot think of the two of you in the same way. From the moment I saw you, especially when I watched you deal with your reluctant groom, you’ve always been my Becca.” Artair’s gaze grew tender, almost maudlin. “Becca mine.”
He’d called her “Becca mine” many times, and she’d always assumed it was nickname. Just like “Sparks.” Although staring into his eyes, she began to wonder…
No. He couldn’t know how she felt. Rebecca had never shown him the de
pth of her attraction. She was sure of it. “So it’s just something you call people? A nickname? An endearment… Like ‘Megan mine’ or ‘Sparks.’”
He had the gall to laugh at her. “You shall never hear me call Fire ‘Megan mine.’ Nay. I mean exactly what I say.”
Before she could offer a defense, he leaned forward, grabbed her wrists and dragged her across the pool. He settled her on his knees. Her token resistance was to put both hands on his chest and try to push away. Her water-soaked palms slipped across his muscles, turning her struggle into a caress.
“Let me go,” she whispered. “What if a goddess is watching?”
“They will nae watch me here. They agreed. ’Tis my place of rest. Besides, I don’t care what they think.”
She wiggled against him, trying to slide from his lap. “We can’t. It’s not allowed.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist to anchor her. “Stop. I only want to talk.”
“I need to go. I can’t…stay here. Not this close. Please. Why won’t you let me go?”
“Because I cannot. Tell me your mind, Becca mine.” Artair lifted a hand to stroke her cheek, leaving a small trail of water across her tanned skin. She felt the touch all the way to her toes. “Tell me your thoughts.”
She leaned her face into his palm and savored his touch. There was no way she could put all she felt into words. After a few more moments passed in stilted silence, she found her voice. “You need to let me go.”
“Nay. I cannot.” He stroked her cheek again, and she closed her eyes.
* * *
Artair couldn’t let her go. This woman had pulled his heart to her—had plucked it from his chest and kept it from the moment he first saw her. This woman had made him risk the kiss that haunted him night and day.
This woman was every reason he wanted to be mortal again.
Rhiannon might damn him for it, but Artair needed Rebecca. She was as precious as life, and he planned to indulge himself, if only for these few moments. “Open your eyes. Look at me, Becca.”
Her lashes fluttered then those incredible brown eyes regarded him with such a tender expression he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to pick her up and carry her away from Avalon, to leave this world behind. He wanted to take her to the Highlands, build a small home and spend the rest of his life gazing into those eyes. All he felt for her was so empowering, he could take on a legion of revenants and win if she waited for him when the battle was done.
