“Thanks.”
She won't meet my eye as I leave.
Lorelei welcomes me back, but the light in her eyes has been progressively more and more distant since I got back. I don't need to ask to know it's the lack of mission, the idea that there's no one depending on her to go out in the world and get laid. She's rudderless, and it doesn't suit her. I don't have any words of advice to offer—my dilemma was the exact opposite, so we go through our nightly routine without speaking.
I let her hold me, curl around me as though protecting me from the nightmares and rebirth pain again. But even in her touch is something that feels predatory, hungry. And I don't feel that hunger. I haven't in a long time now.
I'm reasonably sure that the only reason my first flashing didn't work was because of Iniga. And even with the community's needs shifting, life here still isn't a life, not the one I want.
As I see it, I have two options. I can bleed onto the pages, wash my soul clean and rebuild fresh, or I can go to Han, let myself love him honestly, and spent the vast majority of my days without him once his lifetime is spent. One lifetime of being misunderstood and fearful in between moments of affection, followed by an eternity of grief.
I can't think of which option is more tortuous. Iniga's death tormented me, and I don't know if I can go through that again.
My agitation bleeds through to Lorelei, and she sits up. “I'm not going to be a crutch for you, you know. You'll have to talk to the others sometime.”
I shake my head, blocking my thoughts from her. “You're not up for company right now; I understand.”
She stares at me, parsing exactly what's going on in my head, and finally gives up. “You're right. See you later, Letty?”
I nod, hating myself for lying.
“Sure thing. Sleep well, Lor.”
I don't look back as I step onto her porch, and pull myself into one of the more remote paths to watch the trees come up. I can almost see my blood on them, still.
I put the empty tome on the ground in in front of me, pushing against the landscape enough that the trees form a clearing around me. I put my finger on the page, wondering where to begin exorcising my life. But until I can find those perfect first and final words, I hold myself back from the page, refuse to let the world whip pieces of me into it to start the undoubtedly painful show.
Something resonates to my left—two e-inks swapping both digital code and spit. And then to my right, a loud note of exhilaration as a succubus celebrates her new pregnancy. The air is different, cleaner, and I was too wrapped up to see it. The psychological overtones that imprinted themselves here, they were always gloomy, agitated, or with the kind of sullen resentment of the street beggars where I grew up. But now...it's full of the emotional detritus of dozens of souls, reaching out for love, taking the first steps toward it, and I want to do the same. Even if it's only temporary.
I close the book, jab at the edge of its fabric with my mind to release it to its core particles, and give it to the landscape. Flashing can wait. I've got a lifetime to spend with Han first.
Han:
The drugs have largely done their work. The world swims in front of me, still with no sign of Aletta. I'm beginning to accept that if she really existed, she died in the same overdose I was hospitalized for. Or she was a figment of my head the whole time. I can't say, since they only just pulled the tube out of my throat. I never want to experience having my stomach pumped again.
I have no clue what the hell I overdosed on, and the staff can't tell me either. Toxicology reports don't show anything weird, but the injuries to my throat had convinced them I was rejecting something I ingested.
I don't want to think of what happens next. The past weeks have been a nightmarish dream, all the more frightening because I'm pretty sure most of it wasn't real.
Maybe I'm having a mental breakdown. Work pressures or some such.
But I don't know that that's it.
I roll over, try to ease the aches in my back, and Aletta is there. She reaches out, strokes my ankle, and her touch is real. Not just a hallucination. I spend a moment wondering where she came from before I realize that she didn't have to come from somewhere I can pinpoint.
I reach for her, but the motion yanks at my IV, and she holds my hand down to prevent me from dislodging it. “I didn't think I'd see you again.”
She sighs. “You almost didn't.”
I'm overwhelmed with affection for her, fidgeting with her toe pointed against her knee, a dance warm-up, even in this weird situation. I've been through too much with her to let her go.
She sits on the edge of the bed, and I beckon her down to lay against me. “I love you.”
She whispers, “You make me whole.”
And I give myself in to her insanity, her demons, and her weariness as she opens her mind to me fully, promising everything she ever was, and will be to the journey we have left together.
Go Back
Dreaming of her Wolf by Ever Coming
(A BBW Stepbrother Shifter Romance)
Copyright 2015 Ever Coming
Edited by Plot Ninja
Proofreading by Cheree Castellanos and Melanie A Williams
Formatted by EK Formatting
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from author.
Dreaming of her Wolf by Ever Coming
(A BBW Stepbrother Shifter Romance)
Kissing Strangers
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” the older woman whispered as she pulled Jolie into a hug. “Jack Elah was a good man.” It felt like the thousandth stranger of the day consoling her for her loss. The loss of a father she never met and quite honestly never wanted to meet.
“Thank you,” she mumbled back on autopilot.
“You look so much like him.” Jolie didn’t agree there. She might have his dark hair, but she had her mother’s curves, through and through. Quite honestly, she kind of loved them even if society was currently in a skinny girl trend.
Jolie was at the funeral for a man she never knew because her mom asked her to, not because she felt the need to be there. She already knew something bad had happened before her mother had even told her about the accident that took his life. She actually was pretty sure she knew before her mom did. She often knew things before she should, even if it were not in enough detail to do anything productive about it.
When her mom asked that she attended the funeral, Jolie was surprised she didn’t feel any loss, yet knew that she had to be there for some reason. Something more than just supporting her mom. Jolie had never met her sperm donor, but a small part of her had suspected that someday she might—his death removed that possibility. Maybe she needed to be there just for closure.
Her mom, however, seemed distraught by his death. In retrospect, her mother never seemed upset at him for leaving them. She always spoke well of Jack, even though things were far from easy for a single parent. Growing up, Jolie had friends whose parents were divorced, and the way those parents spoke of each other, even in front of her, was vastly different. They constantly made negative remarks about the other. Jolie’s mom wasn’t like that. She always spoke fondly of her father and said that it wasn’t his time to be with them, as if that magical time would someday appear. Apparently, never was their time to be with him since he was about to be under six feet of dirt.
While Jolie felt numb toward the loss of her sperm donor, she was starting to feel pretty claustrophobic with all the hugging and such. It was odd to think that all these strangers knew her father enough to be here, yet had no clue that she had never met him. She had heard, “He was so proud of you,” more times than she could count from people who were clearly clueless and simply trying to be nice.
Jolie pulled out of the woman’s too-long hug and excused herself. She needed a break. As she walked toward the bathroom, the line winding around the corner caught her off guard. It was wor
se than a freaking frat party. She wondered if they, like her, were hoping to simply get a moment alone. Seeing a grandmotherly-type woman looking right at her, Jolie did the only thing she could think of and walked past the line and out the back entrance. She couldn’t be polite through one more hug.
The crisp spring air filled her lungs, and she felt like she could breathe for the first time all night. She meandered toward the side of the building hoping no one saw her and would follow her to make sure she was all right. The last thing she needed was someone wanting to “help her through this difficult time.” She honestly just wanted to be left alone. Her mother obviously needed whatever closure this funeral gave her, and Jolie wouldn’t ruin that for her.
As she turned around the side of the building to remain out of sight, she was relieved to see a small bench. The funeral home probably had it there for people like her who just needed to get away from it all. It was slightly hidden by a tree and seemed to invite her over.
“Sneaking away or just arrived?” a rich voice questioned. Jolie hadn’t noticed him when she first turned the corner, but when she saw him standing in the small alcove, her jaw nearly fell open. He was what she would have normally referred to as a biker dude, leather jacket and all. Unlike the bikers she had met, though, this guy seemed less like someone to stay away from and more like someone she had to be near. The pull was intense.
She couldn’t decide if it was his five o’clock shadow that she so desperately wanted to feel against her cheek, his almost aquamarine eyes, or the dimples that made her want to throw herself at him, but right now it didn’t matter. She wanted this stranger—this incredibly sexy stranger, who had barely said one sentence to her. It was completely un-Jolie-like, and she couldn't care less. Maybe it was the stress of the past few days. Maybe it was the lack of male companionship this past semester at school after the frat party fiasco. Maybe it was his stunning good looks. Whatever it was, she wanted him like no one she had ever wanted before. Crap on a cracker.
“Well?”
“Huh?”
He smirked at her response. He knew that he affected her. There was no denying it.
“Sneaking away or just arriving?”
“Oh, sneaking away.” She walked to the bench and sat down for fear that if she didn’t, she would end up flinging herself at the man standing near her. “You?”
“Me, I just arrived. My dad is in there and I told him I would come. But I’m not really ready for all the old lady hugs yet.” He walked the few steps to the bench and sat beside her. He was not super close, but she could feel his presence, and it kept pulling at her to scooch over next to him—Who was she kidding?—onto his lap was where she would land if she allowed herself to give in.
“Yeah, I just had my bout of old lady hugs.”
She turned slightly so she could take in his beauty. When she caught his eye, he mumbled what sounded like Beautiful under his breath. Being a plus sized gal, she didn’t often get compliments from super hotties, so she let it go in case she misunderstood. She wanted so badly to believe that he was half as taken by her as she was of him.
“Your dad in there, too?” He moved the slightest bit closer and all thoughts fled her brain.
“Yeah.” It wasn’t a lie, but neither was it the truth. His body was there, not his spirit. She just didn’t want to get into it right now.
“So it’s not just me, right? It really is you.” His voice took a turn toward sexy.
“Not just you what?”
He slid over so that he was only inches from her. She felt fluttering in her stomach that were more like a flock of birds than some sweet little butterflies.
His face leaned in until his lips were oh so close to hers. She had to only lean in a fraction of an inch to take what she wanted. This was the weirdest and sexiest first meeting she had ever had. Her hormones were in full swing.
“Not just me who feels this ... need.”
Holy cannoli, he felt it too. Whatever this crazy attraction was it was two sided.
“No, it’s—”
She was cut off by a finger on her lips. Warmth filled her from that simple touch, and from the way his eyes darken, she knew he felt it too.
“You don’t feel it?” He leaned in close, “Because the shiver you just gave at my touch tells me you do.”
My goodness, she hadn’t even noticed doing that; she was so tied up in knots.
“I mean … no it’s not just you. I feel it too.” God help her, she did, too, and if he didn’t stop letting his warm breath caress her neck, she would have no choice but to do something about it.
He leaned in closer and let out a small chuckle before pulling back. “I thought so. Good to know.” And with that he winked. Jolie didn’t realize winks could actually be smexy. Maybe coming to the funeral was a good idea.
“So did you know Jack?” Conversation time was over. There was no way he was going to ruin this potentially smokin’ moment by having a conversation about her dead father.
“Really?” She went with playing coy and hoped that she could change the subject quickly enough to get those lips on hers. “You want to get all morbid and stuff when we could be—”
She was cut off with his lips on hers. Mission accomplished. Before his lips even began to move, she threw her arms around his neck, fearing he would change his mind and pull back. His lips felt like home, and she had no intention of letting him get away before she had her fill. She wanted to sink into him—after she devoured him, of course.
There was nothing tentative about his kiss as he began to move his lips. He owned her lips, and as his tongue reached their seam seeking entrance, she all but moaned in delight. His tongue explored her mouth, as if savoring it, memorizing it. As their tongues began to dance, she felt his hands on her hips, pulling her closer, closer, closer, and eventually pulling her up on his lap. She often felt self-conscious being on top with her double digit dress size, but with him all rules seemed to fly out the window. Maybe it was the lust she felt, or maybe it was the very rigid erection she felt beneath her, but all sense of shyness and self-doubt were gone.
As his hands moved from her hips and onto her back, she was kicking herself for having worn a dress. A rockabilly dress at that. No chance of simply sliding it up so she could feel his hands on her skin; there were too many layers of girly shit ruffles for that.
“Damn dress,” she mumbled as his lips left hers and traveled across her face and down her neck. She could feel his chest rumbling beneath her in laughter, but he never abandoned his task, which from where she sat, was to have her come undone before they even got naked.
“It’s hot,” he said between the nips he now alternated between kisses on her neck as he gradually descended toward her shoulder.
“It’s in the effing way.”
“Damn dress,” he echoed. “No one would see back here, you know.”
He seemed to be asking permission to go further, and she was all about abandoning any last shred of self-control and going for it when she heard her name in the distance. Maybe they would go away.
“Jolie!”
Nope, it was getting closer, and while it was not a familiar voice, she knew it had to be her they were calling. She had yet to run into anyone else named Jolie in her generation.
“Jolie, are you out here?”
She stiffened.
“Jolie?” She heard from the man beneath her who was now stiff as a board. The magic gone. “You’re Jolie?” He was lifting her off of him.
“Yeah.” She was out of breath partly from their recent hormonal combustion and partly from panic over the change in his voice. How could he affect her so much when she had yet to even ask his name?
“You said your father was in there.” Gone was all sense of sexy and in its place was hostility. It made no sense.
“He is.” Her voice sounded weak. She wanted to call on her inner fierce girl, but she seemed to have taken a hiatus. “I was sick of people telling me they were sorry and shit okay? I
never even met him.”
“I’m outta here.” He was walking away. She wanted to call out to him, but she refused to be that girl, even if it had been the hottest make-out session in history. He turned his head toward her as he reached the edge of the building. “Next time be honest with people. That was a real dick move.” And with that he was gone.
It was as if she could feel him getting further and further away and she yearned for him. Missed him even. The man with no name. The sexy man who took her breath away with his kisses, his eyes, his voice. What the heck was wrong with her? Crazy train ticket for one please.
“Jolie. There you are.” It was the funeral director. Her cock block was a funeral director. Who does that happen to? Only her. She sighed. “Liv, I mean your mom, is looking for you, and I told her I would find you. She is kind of upset. Please drive her home. I don’t think she is fit to drive right now.”
That put things in perspective, and she nodded toward the woman as she arose. “I just needed to get some air.” She took in a deep breath. “Of course I will take care of Mom. Thanks for finding me.”
“Anytime, dear. It is not easy losing a parent.” Jolie let that go as she followed the older woman to her mom who was waiting in the coat closet. Not next to it, in it. What had she been thinking leaving her mom to fend for herself?
“Hey Mom,” She wrapped her arm around her mom’s shoulder. “Let’s go home.” Her mom sobbed and leaned in for a hug. After all those years, she still loved the man who had abandoned them. Jolie would never understand it, but she accepted it. She squeezed her mom tightly until she was ready to leave the closet and go home.
Finals Week Always Sucked, But ...
Handing in her Calc 2 final, Jolie raced out the door. Her phone buzzed at least three times during her final, and that could not be good. She should have turned the darn thing off before she began the exam, but her gut told her not to. She raced through the exam from the first buzz and was the first one finished, all because her gut told her the calls were important. There was no way she aced this exam. Sometimes she hated her instincts.
Beyond The Veil: A Paranormal & Magical Romance Boxed Set Page 62
