Stubborn Girl_A Fantasy Adventure

by Mary E. Twomey

  “I can’t wait, Daisy. I need this dress off of you. I told you, no clothes for a week, starting now.”

  “Worst game of chicken ever, Ro!” Judah called through his tin can. “I’m disconnecting the line, and we’ll reinstall it from your guest room. Happy humping, dudes.”

  I covered my mouth and let out a nervous laugh in time with Bastien’s raised eyebrows. He went over to the window and pushed the can out onto the grass two floors below. The moment was sufficiently derailed, but I knew our love never would be. I sat up on my knees and cupped Bastien’s face in my hands, wanting a closer look at the man I loved. Then I kissed my husband, drawing a contented sigh from both of our lips. “Tell me it’ll always be like this,” I whispered, hanging onto his shoulders.

  Bastien leaned down and whispered in my ear, “It’ll always be like this because we’ll always have each other,” he vowed. Then he kissed me once more before he sealed our love with a firm, “I’ve got you.”

  The End… of part one of the series

  Part Two Begins with Common Girl

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  Common Girl

  Here’s a free preview of Common Girl, Book 8 in the Faîte Falling: Faîte Rising series, which introduces Celtic folklore.

  1

  My Name is Rosie

  “My name is Rosie, and I’m alcoholic,” I said, holding onto the podium with white knuckles. A few strands of brown hair fell loose from the messy bun atop my head, but I couldn’t let go of the podium to brush them from my face. I waited for the obligatory, “Hi, Rosie,” before I continued. “It’s been three days since my last drink.”

  I’d said the same thing for the last six months with literally no change in my status. At every single one of the weekly AA meetings, it was never more than three days since my last hit of blood from Bastien. Sometimes it was that morning I’d broken my fast and meandered glumly into the bedroom to ask for a little snack.

  Bastien never minded. In fact, he looked forward to my meals. He loved the fact that I was the Attelage kind of Vampire, which meant I could only feed from him. Usually we got so worked up during my meals that we made love right after I drank. He was never reticent to give me as much blood as I wanted, and loved every second of it. He relished being the only one who could sustain me, and drive me as crazy with lust as we did. We’d developed a sort of unquenchable hunger for each other, not wanting to be apart for more than an hour or so. We’d spent too much time trying (and failing) to get together; we didn’t waste the gift we’d been granted.

  The thing about it was that I didn’t want to need blood. It had been a total accident that I’d been infected with Éireland’s lost magic. I hadn’t even been in Éireland, but was at my mother’s castle in Avalon when it all went down, and the lost magic was released back into Faîte. Now I was part Vampire, and part some second benign thing that hadn’t shown any symptoms. Bastien’s guess was that the second black snake-like strand of magic that had flowed into me after I’d killed my mother and accidentally set all the lost magic loose, was just more Vampire mojo. He reasoned this as the guess why I couldn’t go more than three days without gnawing on my own fingers for a hit of my husband’s blood. I wanted to be a normal wife. I wanted my stinking 30-day chip.

  A middle-aged woman named Marianne had hers now. It was her first one, and she was showing it to everyone like the coveted prize it was. I was proud of her, but part of me wished I could have that kind of discipline.

  Bastien was quiet through the meetings we attended every week, but this time as we helped stack up the chairs he paused to kiss my cheek. I loved the way his perpetual five o’clock shadow felt when it brushed against my smooth skin. “I think we should skip next week’s meeting,” he suggested. “I see how much it tears you up not to have a chip like Marianne’s.”

  I conjured up a smile that told the world I was totally in control, but Bastien saw right through it. “One day I’ll get mine.”

  “This isn’t the same thing, and you know it. You can’t live without… ketchup.” It was our super-secret code word for blood. I know. We’re total ninjas. “Living without alcohol is a fine thing for anyone’s body. You can’t survive without ketchup.”

  “We’ve been married for a year and a half now. I’ve been drinking ketchup for way too long. You’d think I’d get better at this. I mean, you got your one-year bronze chip months ago.” My knuckles tightened on the folding chair before I stacked it with the others. “Why can’t I get better at this?”

  “Me being sober isn’t the same thing as what you’re trying to do. You’re too hard on yourself. It’s those nightmares that are making you so down today. You need a solid night’s sleep.”

  “If only. Too many nights of the same creepy dream, and it still makes no sense to me.” Every night when I finally fell asleep, a voice came into my mind. He never had a face or a body, just a voice that was low and deep. It was like the best kind of radio DJ, but with an Irish brogue and a penchant for skeeving me out. At first, I hadn’t been able to understand him. Now, after months and months of the same nonsensical dream that always left me feeling disturbed and unsettled, through the random syllables I could make out a low command of “Come.”

  Nothing scary about that, right?

  Bastien got me. He didn’t freak out or demand we go back to Avalon to see if a healer could find us some answers, but held me patiently when I woke him with my tossing and turning. We made love half-asleep last night, and most nights that I woke him mid-slumber.

  “Come here.” Bastien pulled me into his embrace, kissing the square-shaped diamond he’d put on my finger. The three aquamarines on each side sparkled up at us, shining as brilliantly as they did the day we’d gotten married at the Justice of the Peace in a quiet joint affair with Lane and Reyn.

  Bastien was more relaxed in my world. He smiled easier and laughed often. When he started to hum and turn us in a slow dance only we were invited to, I fell in love with him all over again. He had the smile that could transform the dismal meeting room with drab walls and uncomfortable chairs into a ballroom with merely a slight curve of his perfect lips. He hadn’t been the type to dance to woo a woman, but he learned to waltz for me. Bastien had learned so many things, living in my world. We were inseparable and insatiable, and unapologetic on both those points.

  “You look hungry. Let’s get you home,” he suggested, corralling me past the coffee and stale donuts toward the door. “These clothes look like you’ve been wearing them for too long.”

  I guffawed. “Hello, it’s only one o’clock.”

  “I need you,” he confessed, tucking me into his side as we waved goodbye to the facilitator. “That little red number of yours that we broke in last night? I think it needs a repeat.”

  I unlocked our car and slid into the driver’s seat. “Well, it’s not going to get a replay. You ripped it clear down the middle, if you recall. Such a greedy boy.”

  Bastien adjusted his jeans as he buckled. “You can’t scold me like that. You know it makes me crazy. I’m two minutes away from throwing you down in the backseat.”

  “You know we can’t do that; you’re too loud.”

  “Me? I’m not the one the animals were worried about. That was all you.”

  I blushed at the reminder of the forty some-odd woodland creatures who pelted our farmhouse with pinecones, pebbles and sticks because I screamed so loud in the throes that they thought Bastien was attacking me. Part of my birth blessing was that I could communicate with animals and hear other unknown languages. Using my magic tired me out, which was how I got to sleep every night, since Avalon citizens usually didn’t have the need for sleep.

  Bastien was my Guardien, which meant he used loads of magic to ward our property against intruders and keep me safe. I loved sleeping next to my husband. Our simple life might seem boring to some, but we’d earned a few decades of nothing harrowing tearing us apart. People underestimate boring. Lately, it’s been my codename for bli
ss.

  Bastien’s hand found its way to my thigh, which was how we always drove. He still didn’t have his license, since he was a menace on the road even after all the tutorials Lane and I had given our guys. “Are we babysitting Lucas tonight?” he asked idly, staring out the window.

  “Nope. Tonight’s bowling. Wednesday night is bowling, Thursday is babysitting our nephew. You think he’s learned a new word yet?”

  “No,” Bastien replied, repeating Lucas’ only word. Lane and Reyn got pregnant on their honeymoon. Perhaps before they’d even left on the plane for Barbados. Lucas had that gorgeous mixed-race light brown skin, chubby cheeks, Lane’s bright smile, and Reyn’s long, curly eyelashes. In short, we didn’t have a prayer. Whatever Lucas asked for, we gave him.

  Bastien was a mixture of protective and indulgent with Lucas. Did me in every time. “We should really be stricter with him. Last time I fed him he only ate a few bites of dinner, and had like, three suckers.”

  I shrugged. “It’s our rite as his favorite aunt and uncle. Disciplining’s for the parents. The spoiling’s for us to do.”

  Bastien squeezed my thigh, and I could almost guess the question that flowed out from his luscious lips before it came. “You sure you want to wait three years before we have a baby?”

  “I’m sure. I like our life as it is. And if you try and hide my birth control again, you’ll only be shooting yourself in the foot. We’ve never gone a whole two days without sex, but you’ll be staring down the barrel of a drought if you do that again. I’m this close to getting the shot just to nip that in the bud.”

  “Okay, okay. Just so you know my vote, I’d get you nice and pregnant right now. Say the word, and we can pull over and make us a baby.”

  I shot him a squinty eye. “Three years. I still don’t have my degree yet.”

  “That reminds me, do we need to cut bowling short so you can study with Judah over Skype tonight? You’ve got those two finals next week.”

  “Nah. Bowling is sacred. I wouldn’t dream of calling that off. I’m mostly prepared.” Man, I hoped that was true. I’d been studying for these finals for weeks, staying after class with my professors and studying all the live-long day. I listened to recordings of the lectures over and over again until I felt confident enough to go out at night without feeling like failing grades were going to come toppling down on my head. Oh, the joys of being dyslexic.

  “You think your freaky dreams will go away once the stress of finals is over?”

  I shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt. I was thinking we should go camping or something in the mountains to celebrate my last semester being over – pass or fail.”

  “You’ll pass. You’ll do great. And I’d love to go camping again.”

  “Want to take Lucas, and give Reyn and Lane some time together?”

  “I really, really don’t. Love the little guy, but I’ve got big plans for you. Big celebrating plans that involve things children can’t be around for.”

  My lips drew to the side as if in thought. “Hmm. Things children can’t be around for. Are we going to do our taxes? No, tax season is over. Are we going to talk politics?”

  Bastien leaned over and whispered in detail several un-utterable things he’d been wanting to try. He tugged my earlobe between his teeth, making me shiver as I pulled onto the main road.

  A shudder rippled through my body in anticipation of all he was promising. “Well, I guess Lucas can stay home if we’re going to be giving that a try.”

  Start Book 8 in the Faîte Falling: Faîte Rising series, and read Common Girl today!

  Other books by Mary E. Twomey

  The Saga of the Spheres

  The Silence of Lir

  Secrets

  The Sword

  Sacrifice

  The Volumes of the Vemreaux

  The Way

  The Truth

  The Lie

  Jack and Yani Love Harry Potter

  Undraland

  Undraland

  Nøkken

  Fossegrim

  Elvage

  The Other Side

  Undraland: Blood Novels

  Lucy at Peace

  Lucy at War

  Lucy at Last

  Linus at Large

  Terraway

  Taste

  Tremble

  Torture

  Tempt

  Treat

  Temper

  Tease

  Trap

  Faîte Falling

  Ugly Girl

  Lost Girl

  Rich Girl

  Stupid Girl

  Broken Girl

  Untouchable Girl

  Stubborn Girl

  Faîte Falling: Faîte Rising

  Common Girl

  Blind Girl

  Savage Girl

  Dangerous Girl

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  Mary E. Twomey also writes contemporary romance under the name Tuesday Embers.

  Visit her online at www.tuesdayembers.com.