by Price, E A
“Like what?” Kylie asked with severe misgivings. As much as she loved Maggie, she wouldn’t be her first port of call for love advice. But then her last serious relationship ended much the way of the Titanic – so what did she know?
“I don’t know – washing your car, maybe.”
Kylie giggled. “I’m not going to make him wash my car.”
Maggie snorted prettily. “Hey don’t knock it until you try it. Where do you think Eldon is right now?”
“The nervous young man from the party is washing your car? Seriously?”
“Sure. He cleaned my oven last night, too. First time it’s ever been cleaned.”
Kylie chuckled. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Thank you,” she preened. “On another subject, I heard from a very reliable source, that there is a witch in town.”
Kylie paused with a piece of lettuce hovering between her mouth and the plate. “A witch?”
“Yep.”
“Really? And who was your reliable source?” She wondered if it was as reliable as the time she was told Bigfoot was paying the town a visit. It turned out to be a tourist in a mink coat.
“Deirdre’s oldest.”
“You mean the eighteen-year-old whose sole mission in life is to drink booze and make out with her boyfriend?” Miranda worked part-time in Maggie’s store when she wasn’t lip-locked with her older boyfriend who constantly plied her with beer. Kylie was very disapproving.
Maggie ignored this. “She says she saw something flying over the town and making a screeching noise last night.”
Kylie dropped her fork. That must have been her and Luc. Blood rushed to her face, and then immediately drained from it. She was changing color faster than a mood ring. The noise she made was hardly a screech; it was a yelp at best. “Miranda was probably drunk,” she said, trying not to sound too shaky.
Maggie smiled and dollar signs practically shined in her eyes. “Tourists don’t need to know that. I’m thinking of putting together some more night tours, you know, spot the witch.”
And knowing Maggie, she would probably have her uncle hang-gliding through town in a black cloak, witch’s hat and fake nose. “Sounds like a plan,” muttered Kylie.
“Are you okay? You look very warm.”
“I’m probably just allergic to lettuce.” Or allergic to the flavor.
“Me too.” Maggie pulled out the crisp piece of lettuce from her burger and happily continued eating.
Kylie watched her friend covertly as she munched her way through the remainder of her salad. She was too preoccupied to notice even the blandness of her food.
Maggie was always prepared to believe anything. Be it fairies or goblins or even Santa Claus – she’d believe in it if someone told her they’d seen it. Kylie imagined that she would readily accept Luc’s presence, much more readily than Kylie had. That thought gave her a twinge. As far as she knew, she was the only one who even knew about Luc at the moment. As twisted as it may be, it made her feel special. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she introduced him to her younger, prettier and friendlier friend. But then, that wasn’t her decision.
She would speak to Luc that night, and get some answers. Then they would discuss how they were to move forward. And Kylie would warn him about flying too close to the town. It was all fun and games when he was mistaken for a witch by a drunken teenager, but the last thing she wanted was someone trying to shoot him out of the sky.
Chapter Sixteen
Andrew Hardcastle frowned at his fiancée. For some reason, she had taken it upon herself to start knitting. Not very successfully, it must be said. In all the time he had known her, from the moment they bumped into each other at his favorite coffee shop, and throughout their whirlwind romance, he had never seen her take an interest in… well, anything.
He hadn’t noticed at first. When they were living in New York, there was always something to do and somewhere to go. But in Devil’s Hang, there was nothing to do and nowhere to go. Comparatively speaking, anyway. Looking back, Lara hadn’t exactly been interested in actually doing anything. Art galleries and plays seemed to bore her. But she seemed to like it when they were busy. Now that they weren’t, it was clear how little there was to talk about.
Lara swore and threw the knitting across the room.
“Having fun?” he asked, humorously.
She scowled at him and stomped across the room to pick up a newspaper. She wrestled with the thing for ten minutes before that went the way of the knitting.
He guessed this was all down to his comment the other day about her restlessness. She wasn’t happy living in a small town; he could tell. He’d have to be downright oblivious not to notice. She had taken to sighing more than a southern belle.
He suggested she go back to New York. He had hoped she would. A small town was not the place for Lara – and definitely not a moody Lara. She bored very easily. But she was insistent that she stay by his side, even though that depressed both of them no end.
Andrew found he actually liked the house and the town. He regretted he had not visited more over the years. But he particularly regretted that he had left it so late to get to know his uncle. In the last couple of weeks before his death, they had actually started to enjoy each other’s company. It was a shock to both of them!
Ten years ago, after Andrew’s father died, his uncle had pressed him to visit, repeatedly. But Andrew hadn’t been interested. He was finally out from under the heel of his nightmare of a father, and he wasn’t about to get trapped by his father’s brother. It wasn’t fair of him; he knew that. Uncle Edwin had been nothing like his father. But, he was twenty-one at the time and not interested in trading one abusive bastard for another. So he pushed his uncle away, and eventually Uncle Edwin stopped trying and instead took to calling him a wastrel. Which he was - for a few years anyway. He dropped out of college and was trying to make it big with his grunge band. They didn’t make it big. They were terrible. While some bands may be able to get away with not being able to play their instruments very well, Spilt Milk – his band – was not one of them. After a couple of years floating from one friend’s couch to the next, he pulled himself together and started his own real estate company. It was slow going, but he was tenacious and had actually learned a trick or two from his dad aka Hitler mark II. Now he had a successful company and a beautiful fiancée. Although, he was only really proud of one of those things at the moment.
“Why don’t you go back to New York, Lara? I’ll be fine here on my own.”
Lara gave him a shrewd look. Yes, that was the problem. She didn’t want him to be fine on his own. “I like it here,” she said, almost through gritted teeth. “I like this house; I can imagine living here.”
Andrew looked at her doubtfully. “You said you hated the quiet. You said that anyone who lives outside of a city is a heathen.”
“Well, I’ve changed my mind,” snapped Lara.
“Don’t you miss your… uh, job?” He almost said friends, but Lara didn’t seem to have any friends. She had Holling, and he seemed to have employees, all of them were sleek and cold like him. That was it.
“My place is with you,” she replied, with grating sweetness.
He suppressed a sigh and wondered where the heck Holling was. Lara seemed to be more manageable whenever Holling was around. It had bugged the hell out of him when they first got together. Holling had hung around like a bad smell and Andrew had found it nigh on impossible to get some alone time with Lara. But he had come to accept their relationship and accepted Holling as he would a pet Chihuahua. He was just something Lara had with her all the time. In fact, Andrew preferred it when Holling was around – at least he had someone to talk to. At first he had worried that their relationship was sexual. Now… he wasn’t that sure he cared.
Dealing with Lara was becoming tedious. It had been alright at first. He had been enamored with this goddess of a woman, and he had happily lavished her with plenty of gifts, and the sex wasn’t bad.
It wasn’t great – but it wasn’t bad. But, he was just bored with her. And unless he was very mistaken, she was bored of him, too. It had been easy to ignore in New York. But, living here in such close quarters was difficult. In the city, they had separate apartments. But here, he had to give her an explanation whenever he left the house. It was like being in a very cushy prison – but a prison nonetheless. Plus, he was starting to worry over just how groggy he was all the time. He had some sleeping pills from a while back when a DJ was living next door to him. He took them everywhere just in case, and he could have sworn that the bottle was getting lighter.
“What did you do today?” she asked with an exaggerated sigh.
He sighed, too. “Not much,” he admitted. Felt good, too. His company was sound, and his employees could run it. It felt nice just to relax. He had spent the morning just walking around town. He was actually quite interested in the town’s history and in the afternoon he found a very amiable tour guide in the pixie-like shape of Maggie who ran The Witch’s Brew. He smiled as he thought of her trying to recreate the hanging at the tree using her sweater. It wasn’t altogether successful, but she made some very spirited gurgling noises.
“Well, whatever you did, it appears you enjoyed it,” she said, accusingly.
“Have you found Gustave yet?” he demanded, irritably. Anyone would think that being happy was an offense with Lara. But then, he had to admit that he had rarely seen her smile. Maggie was always smiling. In spite of her goth appearance, he doubted he’d ever met someone who was so happy. Lara certainly wasn’t smiling now. “The lawyer’s been asking again,” he persisted. “My uncle bequeathed a substantial sum to Gustave and the lawyers want to sort it out.”
Lara walked over to the window and stared at the garden. She once told him she could never see the point in them. If she had her way, she’d just burn the thing to the ground. He knew that for a fact, because she had been hinting about doing just that. It had been a firm no from him.
“No, Holling’s still looking,” she said, eventually.
Holling apparently ran some kind of security agency but was very sketchy about the details. Lara was adamant that he would find Gustave, but Andrew wasn’t convinced. “I don’t see what’s taking so long; I really don’t. Gustave has to be in his late fifties, or early sixties – he can’t have that many family members.”
Lara spun to face him with her stubborn look, which was very similar to her normal look. “Do you really think it’s fair that he gets all that money from your uncle? They weren't even related.”
“Well, they were friends for years,” he said, reasonably. “I’d be surprised if the old man hadn’t left him anything.”
“But it’s your family’s money.” She all but stamped her foot. This was not a new argument.
“Well, not really,” argued Andrew, wearily. “The Hardcastle’s had no money. Uncle Edwin made his own fortune. Any money I had growing up came from my mother.” And was soon squandered by his father, he added, silently.
“But you’re his heir!”
He chuckled, and her eyes blazed. “More like the only living family member left. To be honest, I’m just grateful to him that he didn’t leave everything to Gustave. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had.”
Lara scowled out the window. He could only see the back of her head, but he could tell that it was a scowling type of moment. A few months ago, he might have tried to soothe her. Now, he couldn’t really be bothered. If she wanted to have a temper tantrum, he was happy to let her.
“Look, Lara,” he said, firmly. “I really think you would be happier if you went back to New York.”
He prepared himself, ready to jump behind the couch if she threw something at him. Ready to roll his eyes and tell her it wasn’t true if she dredged up some tears and accused him of not loving her anymore. But then she did something he wasn’t expecting. She turned and gave him a sultry smile. He almost dropped his glass in surprise.
“Honey, let’s not argue,” she purred.
Andrew gulped as she dropped to the floor and crawled over to him settling between his legs. “I bet I can think of much more interesting things to talk about.”
Lara walked her fingers up his legs and expertly teased his belt and pants open. He cursed himself, but he could feel himself stirring at her clumsy seduction. “Like our wedding…”
She shuffled his pants and underwear down his legs and took hold of his manhood in her hands, squeezing and caressing him. He should stop her, he really should.
“You still want me, don’t you?” she asked coquettishly before descending on him and kissing the quivering tip.
“Yes,” he groaned in a garbled voice. Okay, he was weak. He admitted it, freely.
“Good, so let’s not have any more talk about me going back to New York.” She licked his length, and he shuddered beneath her. “No more talk about Gustave. Let’s talk about your collection of antiques…”
Chapter Seventeen
Kylie stood on the steps outside of her apartment, wringing her hands. It had been thirty minutes since sundown, and she had been popping in and out of her front door to try and spot Luc every five minutes. The first few times she spied Gary across the road watching her, so she pretended that she was stretching before exercising. It was an excuse that really wouldn’t hold up, so she was mightily relieved when he left.
Luc told her he would be with her as soon as possible after sundown. She was starting to get nervous. What if Andrew had discovered him and called the FBI or something to take him away. Holy frijole – they could be dissecting him at that very moment! Or what if some hunters saw him flying and thought he was a massive bird and decided to shoot him down. Not that they got hunters in their town. Only people hunting cream teas and antiques. Or what if he met another woman who was much more accepting of him and less frightened? Why did the last option seem like the worst one?
She withheld her yelp and merely jumped a foot in the air as Luc landed on the step below her. He reached out one massive arm and slipped it around her waist, steadying her.
He looked down at her with concern, his hard features softening slightly. Even though he was on the step below her, he still towered over her. His massive bulk was at the same time alarming and comforting. “Did I frighten you?”
“No!” she replied, quickly. “Well, no more than if anyone had shouted boo at me for fun anyway.”
Luc frowned. “Why would anyone wish to scare you for fun?”
“It’s a human thing,” she said, dismissively. “Maybe you should come inside before someone sees you.”
He looked troubled. “If it is your reputation or your virtue that you fear then I must reassure you. You are safe with me; I would not take advantage of you, little one.”
Kylie blinked at him. She had some weird, mixed feelings about that. “My reputation and virtue are… fine. I was more worried about your safety. Come inside.”
She watched as he squeezed himself through the doorway. They had decided to meet at her apartment because it was the easier option than Kylie trying to get into the garden, and would be more private. Of course, she hadn’t considered the logistics of getting a seven-foot gargoyle through the door. She had enough trouble getting her mattress through. But thankfully, he was somewhat more flexible.
Hurriedly, she moved as much furniture out of his way as possible. She didn’t have much, but then the apartment was only small. It had an open living room and kitchen that Kylie used a folding screen to separate. Then there was a small bedroom where the bed touched two walls, and a minuscule bathroom where you had to stand in the shower to shut the door.
When Luc had managed to maneuver inside, and Kylie had managed to shut the door, only getting hit in the face twice by his wings, she ushered him into the living room. Which was just a small step from the door.
“Sorry, it’s a bit small,” she said, wringing her hands.
He gave her a genuine smile, and heat blossomed on her cheeks. “You shoul
d not apologize, your home seems very comfortable, and I am honored that you would invite me in.”
Kylie moved a large footrest into the middle of the room, and Luc carefully sat down. She tried not to stare as his muscles bunched and flexed. And she definitely tried not to focus on the fact that save for a loincloth he was completely naked. Well, it might not matter anyway. Did gargoyles even have man parts? Did they have sex in the same way? Jiminy, her thoughts were turning lewd.
She turned her back to him and puttered in the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?” she called over her shoulder.
“I would be grateful for water, thank you.”
As she passed him the glass, she saw that he was eyeing her flamingo cushions. “Those are very unusual creatures.”
“They’re called flamingos. Have you never seen them?”
“Are they native to Britain?”
“Only in zoos. I think they come from warmer countries, like South America.”
“No I would never have seen them before.” He took a sip of the water and placed the glass on the floor with the utmost care.
Kylie sat opposite him and absently sipped on her own glass of water. The room was so small that their knees brushed against each other’s.
Luc glanced around the apartment and sniffed the air. “Where is your male? I see no evidence of him.” He sniffed again and smiled. “I only smell you – lavender and honey.”
She blushed again. “My what now?” Was he talking about Brian? How could he know about Brian?
“Your male, your protector,” he rumbled in wary curiosity, staring around the room as if he expected someone to pop up at any second.
Kylie gave him a blank look before bursting into laughter. “My protector – that’s a good one.”
Luc drew his brows together confused at her reaction. “Do not tell me that you live here alone?”
“Sure, why not?”
“A female such as yourself should not be left unprotected in this world.”
