by Eden Bradley
Okay. He could work with this. He thought back to what he’d done to Garreth. He’d been thinking about ripping the man from Calla and throwing him across the room.
He tried the same thing now. He pictured throwing the black dragon.
Surprisingly, the dragon flew from Calla’s red form and slammed against a tree. It cracked, the top hurtling onto the beast’s head.
Claws gently grabbed him, jerking him from the path of the tree. He froze, the paw tight around his waist, staring into purplish eyes. His fear dampened as he realized that this was not just some mythical beast holding him.
It was also Calla.
He patted her scaly paw. She snorted, bounding through the forest on three legs, trying to dodge trees. A whimper came from her and Scott knew she hurt from the fight and the branches lashing her body.
“Go left. There’s a cave. The trees open up near it.”
She growled and headed left.
Behind them, Eric roared. Scott glimpsed the black dragon getting to its feet. Then it chased after them. “Honey, I think you better hurry,” he said.
She moved faster, but carrying him interfered with her gait.
“Can you put me on your back or something? I bet I’d be a good dragon rider,” he tried to joke.
She glared at him, her eyes flashing blue.
He smiled tensely.
Slowing, she lifted him higher. He jumped from her paw to her back, gripping one of the spikes along her neck and pulling himself higher.
Four paws available, Calla put on a burst of speed. The black dragon fell farther behind. They reached the cave and Calla crouched so Scott could jump off. Then she nudged him toward the cave.
“I’m not hiding,” he said, unable to prevent being pushed into the hole in the rock.
Calla turned to face Eric, keeping her body between him and the cave. Scott stared at her huge, scaly rump, wanting to smack it for her stubbornness.
Then he tried his magic again. He pictured her lifting—gently—and moving a few feet to the side. This time, it happened at the same time he thought it.
Scott strode from the cave and stood by her side, staring into her disbelieving gaze. “Ha,” he said.
She shook her head, snorting.
“We will face him together.”
She snorted again, this time a puff of black smoke coming from her nose. Scott patted her front leg. “Get that fire ready, baby. Let’s see what I can do.”
Eric crashed into the clearing with a roar. He whipped his head back and forth, then took a deep breath and spewed bluish fire.
Scott pictured it wrapping backwards, flowing over the black dragon’s body. The wind whirled with speed, then flew at the dragon, curving his fire onto himself.
This time, Scott saw the air as it moved. It had colors. The wind he commanded was blue, like Calla’s eyes.
The black dragon roared in pain as his own fire licked over his scales.
Calla roared, blowing her fire—a clean, pure red. It joined with the blue, covering the black dragon from head to back.
~ * ~
Calla couldn’t believe her eyes as Scott manipulated the air to do his bidding. Nor could she get over the heady rush of the power contained in her own dragon fire.
Eric screamed in agony and her fire faltered. She couldn’t burn him alive. She just couldn’t.
“Done?” Scott asked, his voice sympathetic and understanding.
She nodded.
“Okay. Let’s see if I can do this.”
Air blew, racing for Eric. The flames covering his scales lowered, then went out. Scott had smothered them. What air could inflame, it could also stop. He must be an elemental. A sylphid, so named by Aristotle, for Scott’s power was one of the four strongest on Earth. Such mystical beings had been created by the gods to protect mankind and mortals, just as the dragons had. So he was matched to her, not just by the mating and the burn humming through her veins, but also in power and in the destiny of the intended use of their magics.
Such a mystical being was rare. In fact, Calla had only ever once met one—a water elemental. Her father.
Eric shook his head, dazed, his eyes wide in fright as he came to the same conclusion Calla had. He backed away, but before he could flee, Garreth flew down into the clearing. He roared, the earth shaking. Then he shifted and strode toward Eric, slamming a small silver rod against Eric’s side.
With a shudder, Eric shifted to his human form. His skin was blackened, burned. Calla forced herself to watch, even though the sight sickened her. She had done that. Her fire.
Though she’d wanted it for so long, now, she wasn’t so sure.
Garreth leaned over Eric and snapped a set of handcuffs on his wrists. Made of silver and magic and dragon scales, Eric wouldn’t be able to shift or call on his stolen magic while wearing them.
Knowing her brother was alive and Scott safe, Calla shifted, hating being naked, surrounded by three clothed men. It didn’t matter she was related to two of them. Scott gallantly stepped in front of her, shielding her body from view.
“Thanks,” Calla whispered.
Garreth scowled and stripped his shirt off, tossing it to Scott. Calla tugged it on, then approached.
“What are you going to do to him?” she asked, her heart sore.
“He will go in front of the council as befits such a creature,” Garreth said harshly, though pity shone from his eyes.
Scott pointed them toward the road, then raced back into the trees to get Garreth’s car. Calla walked behind Garreth and Eric, unable to shake the sorrow for what was going to happen to the man. Once, she’d called him brother.
Yes, he deserved it for all he’d done. The traitor’s death that awaited him.
It was not just him, but this master he’d spoken of. Without the persuasions of that dark creature, Eric would have never become such a beast. Their mother would be alive.
Soon, they reached the side of the road. No vehicles passed. Garreth held tight to Eric’s cuffed arm, neither willing to meet her gaze. With all her heart, Calla wished for the ability to change the past. It was useless, for no one had such magic.
Scott drove up, pulling to the side of the road. They piled in the car, Garreth holding Eric captive in the back, while Calla sat in the front. She tried hard not to turn, to catch one last glimpse of the brother she would never see again.
~ * ~
FOURTEEN
After Garreth left with Eric, Calla drove her truck to Scott’s house. He’d gone to the fire station to work, but said she could use his house before leaving town.
The conversation had been brief. Abrupt.
Tiny pinpricks of pain lingered in her chest at his seeming dismissal.
As if he was done with her, and every strange thing she’d brought into his life.
He hadn’t asked her to stay.
Hadn’t spoken of anything beyond what had already passed between them.
Feeling a bit numb, Calla showered and changed, then slowly walked around Scott’s home. She gathered her few things, but couldn’t bring herself to leave just yet.
His scent, remnants of his very presence, echoed in every room of the house. Comforting, as if he were there with her.
But he hadn’t asked her to stay.
She snorted, shaking her head.
And what if he had asked? What would she say?
To give up her entire life in the valley, her job, move away from her family, all for a man?
Would she have done it?
Her chest ached and she tried to rub it away as the answer came to her.
Yes.
For Scott, she would have done so. He was worth it.
But he hadn’t asked her to stay.
A dark fog surrounded her as she headed out of town. She passed the fire station, but didn’t slow, didn’t give it a second look for fear the sadness pressing at the back of her eyes might escape.
Just before turning onto the main highway leading back to Phoenix,
a red light stopped her. The building on the corner beckoned. The Jasper Town Hall... and Library.
Before she second-guessed herself, Calla whipped her truck into the parking lot and strode into the place.
“Hi, dearie. Can I help you?” an old matronly woman asked, using one finger to push her glasses higher on her nose. “We’re closing in a half hour.”
“Where do you keep old records? Newspapers.”
The woman, Gladys by her nametag, pointed her to a back room. “Past fifty years are on the computer, before then, you won’t have much luck.”
Calla scrolled through the articles, going back twenty years. Finally, she found the story about the crash. Hitting print, she stayed in her seat and read it on the screen.
John and Carrie O’Neil. A car crash on a dark, stormy road. No bodies recovered.
Calla had seen too many reports like this. It was the same with the report of her mother’s death—no body recovered. Even though she had seen her poor mutilated mother lying in a heap.
Magic. Mystical creatures. Cover-ups.
The question in her mind was whether Scott’s parents were actually dead or not.
She took the printed pages, paid for them, then sat in her truck, wondering just what she was going to do with this information. Scott didn’t have the contacts in their world to ferret out the truth, but she did. So did she tell him, or not?
Finally, Calla put her truck in drive. At the exit, she idled, unable to make up her mind to go left or right. Someone honked behind her.
Before she could stop herself, she turned into town, heading for the fire department.
~ * ~
Scott stared morosely over the town spreading from the fire station. Everything seemed dimmer than usual, as if smoke from the recent fires lingered. Even the air, usually crisp and fresh, seemed tainted.
No one else noticed though, as the men he ran into congratulated him on finding and stopping the firebug.
And he knew the bitterness around him came from his heart.
Calla was leaving.
He’d know she wouldn’t be there for long, but everything between them had been a whirlwind, catching him up inside and spinning his life around and upside down.
Only now did he realize the woman would be leaving town with his heart.
Someone called out from inside the firehouse. Laughter boomed as the men joked around, lighter now that danger had passed.
But Scott couldn’t feel the same.
Every fiber inside him screamed he rush home, take Calla by her arms and kiss her senseless. Ask her to stay. Demand she stay.
And yet, he feared her answer would be no.
She was just like his sisters. Try to tie them down, and they only struggled harder to get away. Like his sisters, Calla relished her independence.
It had been hard as hell to let his sisters leave town, go out and make lives of their own.
If he asked Calla to stay, she would probably run fast and hard.
Besides, her life was in Phoenix. Not in this sleepy mountain town.
And Scott didn’t think he had enough to offer that would be worth taking her from her life, from everything she’d built. From her family.
But damn, it was hard.
He couldn’t leave Jasper, and she wouldn’t stay.
~ * ~
Calla parked and strode down the sidewalk to the side door of the firehouse, but stopped when she heard a curse.
Snapping her gaze up, she saw Scott. Barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, he stood in front of the wide bay doors, glaring out into the distance.
His body, though no longer hers to touch, continued to entice. She remembered so intimately the touch of his skin, his lips. The way he filled her.
Heat blossomed and she squirmed.
Scott turned and spied her. A broad smile broke out across his lips, but disappeared quickly.
He moved toward her, the lust in his eyes causing her to shiver. Calla wanted him to grab her, hold her, demand she stay.
But he stopped a few feet away. “Did you forget something?” he asked, his voice a bit distant.
“Um. Can we talk in your office?” She didn’t want the whole town hearing.
“Sure.” He gave her a quizzical look, though he led the way to his office.
A few men lounging in the living room snickered, and someone whispered, but Calla didn’t hear what they said, nor did she care. She filled her memories, with the way Scott looked. The way he smelled.
In his office, Scott waited for her to enter, then closed the door. He slowed as he passed her to take his seat. The desk seemed a mile wide, separating them.
Calla took the printouts from her bag, and stepped closer. “I stopped by the library to look at your parents’ accident. Something about it bothered me.”
His face hardened, shutting down. He played with the picture frame on his desk.
“Did you know they didn’t recover the bodies?” she asked.
Scott’s chin jerked and his eyes, a bluish-gray, met hers. “Yes, they did. We had a funeral and everything.”
“Are you sure?” She gazed into those eyes, realizing they changed with his moods. The gray became greener in happiness and lust. Blue when he was in pain or using his power. Was it uniquely him, or part of his magic?
“I know we had a funeral.”
“But did you see their bodies?”
“No. The cops and the nuns said we were too young.”
Calla nodded, taking a deep breath and pushing on. “Sometimes, with creatures like us, the news reports aren’t the truth.”
He stiffened, his body stilling like a tiger before it pounced. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, their deaths might not have been an accident.” She couldn’t add they might not even be dead. It wouldn’t be fair, not without knowing for sure. “I-I can look into it if you want.”
He stared at her, his mouth a thin line.
“Okay. Well, I need to go. Call me when you decide.” She left the office, her feet heavy, her heart pounding.
She didn’t want to leave.
It hit her completely then, all the great things about this man.
He was her dream.
Not the playboy she’d first assumed. A strong, solid, responsible man.
But, they’d both known going in this was temporary. Neither could just up and move. And long distance relationships never worked. Which left what?
Her eyes prickled as she left the station, heading for her cherry-red truck, a symbol of everything she was.
~ * ~
Scott sat at his desk, staring at the papers she’d set in front of him. The woman had barged into his life like a storm, turning everything he knew upside down.
Hell, she’d forced him to realize he wasn’t even human, but some strange magical creature.
And the most damnable thing was he could do nothing but thank her for showing him the truth. But now, his parents? Not an accident?
Did he want to be drawn deeper into this new world she’d introduced him to?
Was there a choice?
Slowly, his body relaxed, and he leaned back in his chair. Her blue eyes and strawberry lips flashed in his mind. The ghostly touch of her soft hand on his arm for comfort, kind words trying to ease his pain, made his chest swell.
He didn’t know what the future held, or what might happen, but he couldn’t deny his heart any longer.
The woman was his destined mate after all.
~ * ~
Calla drove away from Jasper, pushing her truck to the limits. She almost wanted to ditch it and fly home. She’d get there faster. Then, she could climb into bed and eat a pint of chocolate brownie ice cream.
Console herself that one day, destiny might pick a new mate for her. Not that it had ever happened before to her knowledge, but maybe this time would be different.
How could he have gotten so deep inside her in just a few days? Sex was great, but she’d had that with other men.
> Not many, but enough to know that sex didn’t make a relationship. She couldn’t even blame it on the mating heat. Sure, that propelled them into bed. But the heat didn’t guarantee both parties would like each other, much less fall in love. It just told them they were compatible in ways of conceiving children.
No.
It was all he’d done, all he stood for, that truly got her.
Calla shook her head. It didn’t matter he made her burn, made her come so sweetly. She had a life to get back to.
Lights flashed and a siren rose behind her.
“Damn it to hell.” She’d only been going… a glance at her speedometer told her thirty over the posted limit.
“Great. Just great,” she whispered, pulling to the side of the road.
In her rearview mirror, someone stepped out of the passenger side and hurried to her window. She rolled it down and opened her mouth to apologize for her speed.
But it wasn’t a cop.
Scott grinned at her. “Damn, baby. You drive like a wild woman.”
Calla swallowed the lump stuck in her throat, pain and hope warring within her. “Did I forget something?”
He leaned in through the window, grabbed her neck and pulled her closer. His lips descended on hers, and Calla filled with a warmth that had nothing to do with the burning.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Me.”
~ * ~
LAUNDRY DAY
by Keira Kohl
~ * ~
TV INTRO
New to the fictional O-Zone television network—Keyes Manor!
Welcome to the first “episode” of the sexy new show. Carmela Keyes runs the apartment complex with fun and sex games but despite her curious nature, she never partakes in the Manor’s Saturday key parties. In this “pilot” episode Carmela is trying to find a sex mate, but with her own private laundry day party.
Clothing prohibited.
~ * ~
Carmela Keyes dumped the bowl of apartment keys on her bed, anticipation and fear warring inside her. What if Declan didn’t apply—again? The array of keys boosted her confidence every time. Despite her rule that anyone who applied for laundry day with her could not participate in the weekly Keyes Manor key party, she always had more than ten keys. A quick count told her she had fourteen applicants this time. Fourteen people who knew her rule of all day nakedness, laundry and sex.
