Collared By The Warrior

by Daniella Wright

  “Now might not be the appropriate time for that discussion,” he said. I nodded.

  “Maybe we should try double-dating,” I suggested. “I could set you up with one of my other clients. You know, see how it goes.” I was thinking about my other supernatural clients. A smaller group, but a definite demographic.

  “Okay,” he said, rubbing the back of his head with a hand.

  “You’re going to have to find someone for me,” I replied. “All of my friends are currently married, in love, or have kids.”

  “You’re really good at this matchmaking thing,” he said.

  “I’m fantastic at it.” His face changed as he focused on someone behind me. I turned to find a model-perfect woman charging us angrily. Even angry, she looked like an angel. Her blonde hair was in perfect, beachy waves, and she wore a knee-length, thin, silky kimono over a black bikini.

  “Are you his new floozy?” she asked me.

  “I’m his personal assistant,” I replied.

  “So you are fucking him,” she snarled. “Don’t. Save yourself the time.”

  “Uhm…”

  “He’s not worth it. He’s a total dirt bag.” Another model-looking woman was grabbing her by the arm, dragging her away as Davey was maneuvering me away toward a shiny dancefloor. He placed his hands on my waist, and began to sway to the music. I interwove my fingers behind his neck.

  He pulled me closer, and I could feel my heart begin to pound. His face was right beside mine, his lips by my ear.

  “You know, this isn’t too bad.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No. You smell good.”

  “Um. Thanks.” I could feel the threads entwined between us. Through the haze, it glowed pink. I felt his hand putting pressure on my lower back, pulling me even closer. I stepped back.

  “What’s the matter?” he frowned.

  “It’s…this is not professional,” I said. “I am working for you. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.” He stepped forward, whispering into my ear.

  “Maybe we can take that edge off.” I shook my head. It was the spell—he could get hurt.

  “I’m not looking for a relationship… at all.” He frowned. He clearly wasn’t used to being turned down for sex. Ever.

  “Um. Wow. Okay,” he said, trying to maintain his cool.

  “We should continue with the double-date, though,” I said. “bring someone to be my date. Someone I won’t be attracted to. I’ll bring someone who I see as a potential match for you.” He nodded.

  “I can bring my best friend. He’s a bit of a dog.” I laughed.

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “We can go to the Santa Monica pier.”

  “Monday night?”

  “Great.”

  ~*~

  I looked up when Mari knocked on the door to my office. She held a box that was elaborately wrapped in pink paper with curlicue ribbons.

  “This was just dropped off for you,” she said.

  “Thank you,” I replied, pulling the card out from underneath the ribbon.

  Sorry for dragging you around. Thanks for sticking with me. XX Davey

  “Oooh,” Mari said, leaning against the wingback chair. I unwrapped the package, which revealed a white cardboard box. Inside, wrapped in tissue paper, was a porcelain carousel. It was elaborately painted. It was tiny and perfect. I placed it on my desk.

  “Is it from Davey?” Mari asked me.

  “Yes,” I flushed bright red.

  “I might be overstepping my bounds here, but you two have really good chemistry,” she said. I might have flushed an even deeper red.

  “I am not even going down that path,” I replied. “Especially not with a known playboy like Davey.” I was dangerous enough to men who were monogamous.

  ~*~

  I was at the hospital with Aunt Anna. She was lying in the hospital bed, which made her look smaller than normal. She was already tiny—bird-boned, she would proudly declare. She was doing well, the doctors had said. They were trying to figure out whether or not she needed medication.

  “So, tell me about this special lady,” she prompted. “How did you meet her?” Remembering my lie when I had heard that she was ill, I began honestly.

  “I hired a matchmaker, Auntie.”

  “A matchmaker? There’s something that I had thought was outdated.”

  “For sure. But I wanted to meet the one, you know?”

  “Okay. So, the girl?”

  “Penny. The matchmaker.”

  “Ah, and how did you ask her?”

  “I haven’t. Yet.” I said. “She’s not interested. We were dancing, and I asked her if she wanted to…you know.” I made a gesture, and she rolled her eyes.

  “Davey! You asked her for a one-night stand? A woman who makes her living as

  a matchmaker might want something more.”

  “No, it’s not like that. She’s setting me up with other women, that’s all.”

  “So you lied to me on my death bed,” my aunt was laughing at me.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “Well, when she’s found you the perfect woman, I want to meet her.” I reached out, taking her tiny gnarled hand.

  “You will. I promise.”

  Chapter Seven

  Sitting with my friends, we had a pleasant evening. They were all shocked to see Davey there. I failed to mention that he was technically a client. Davey was completely at ease. He didn’t try to seduce my married friends. Instead, he sat beside me, his hand on the back of my chair. I tried to follow the flow of the conversation, but I could feel the warmth coming off of Davey’s body. I could smell the scent of his skin; a clean but masculine scent, spicy.

  I dared to glance over at him, and he looked back at me. I startled. His eyes—they were yellow, with black slits for the pupils…

  “Your eyes…” I said, raising a hand to my mouth. He blinked, and they had returned to normal.

  “What about them?” he said easily.

  “I…um, nevermind.” I realized that he was supernatural, like me. What he was, I was not yet sure, but it definitely complicated matters farther. He leaned in to say something to me, and I could feel my skin tingle.

  “Do you want to shadow me?” he asked suggestively.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “Right now,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  “We’re going to head out,” he announced to the table, standing up.

  “Well it was lovely having you,” Frank, one of the happy husbands said.

  “Truly,” Bethany echoed. Hands were shaken, winks were given, and we left the restaurant. We stood out on the sidewalk. It had rained while we were inside of the restaurant, giving the city a musky smell. Davey stood beside me easily, his hands in his pockets as we waited for a taxi to pass.

  “So how will this work?”

  “I will pretend to be your personal assistant. You can call me Naima. That’s my middle name.” he nodded as I went on. “I’ll keep the attention away from me, but check out the women around you. See if any are a match.” He nodded, raising his hand as the taxi arrived.

  “Do you need to go and change?” I looked down at what I was wearing. A little black dress with a pencil skirt silhouette.

  “I’m working, remember?”

  “Okay.” He held up his hands, as though I were threatening him with a weapon.

  ~*~

  The women at the party that he took me to flocked around him. They wore skimpy clothes, and shot jealous looks at me, even though I was supposed to be working for Davey. He walked over to me, two champagne flutes in hand.

  “So? What do you think?”

  “A party at a Porno producer’s mansion is decidedly not the place to search for a future wife,” I said, taking a glass from him and taking a sip. A man walked by me, giving me the up and down, and I shot him the finger. Davey looked at me.

  “What if that’s the type of wife that I want?”

  “These w
omen aren’t serious,” I said. “They want to be in the tabloids.”

  “I’m in the tabloids,” he replied.

  “Do you want to stay there?”

  “I’d have to think,” he shrugged. “I mean, bad attention is better than no attention at all, don’t you think?”

  I stared at him for a moment, realizing that he was serious. His attention was caught by a woman waving at him.

  “I have to go and say hello,” he explained. I nodded. A woman in a halter dress with a plunging neckline walked over to me.

  “I’ve heard that you’re Davey Allred’s new assistant.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Are the rumors true?”

  “Which ones?” her laugh was husky.

  “The ones that say he’s looking to get married.”

  “They might be,” I looked at her, inspecting the threads. Too thin. Red, but not pink.

  “Is he seeing someone?” she asked, tilting her head a little. “You, perhaps?”

  “Absolutely not.” I replied vehemently.

  “Mmm.” The woman smiled at me, her eyes glittering. I wondered if she were a vampire. “Just thought I’d ask.” I kept trying to scan the threads of the large group of people who were surrounding Davey. He was regaling them with a story, which they were all laughing at. I felt all of the threads through a fog. It was my own attraction to him, I realized. I was never going to be able to find a good match for him. Taking deep, calming breaths, I noted a few women who had visible pink threads and no obvious dates. I walked up to the first one confidently.

  “I love your dress,” I said. “Who designed it?”

  “Oh, thanks,” the woman said. She was wearing a sparkly short dress. “It’s vintage.”

  “Cute,” I replied.

  “So you’re here with Davey,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Well, yes and no,” I said. “He recently hired me as his personal assistant.”

  “Oh,” she said, immediately becoming more interested.

  “So what do you do?”

  “I’m a lawyer.”

  “Yeah? That’s cool. You want me to introduce you?”

  “I’d love that,” she replied. I got Davey’s attention. He walked over.

  “Davey,” I said. “This is…”

  “Caroline,” she said, holding out a hand.

  “Hello, Caroline,” Davey said, giving his wide stereotypical grin. I walked away, moving on to the next woman that I could sense the potential love matches with. She was standing on a table, dancing. I waited until she climbed down, flicking her long black hair over her shoulders. She walked over to the bartender, who was just handing out drinks.

  “Hey,” I said, grabbing a drink from the bartender.

  “Hey,” she replied.

  “So what do you do?”

  “I’m a singer, even though tonight, I’m a dancer.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  “So people say.” She seemed pragmatic. Davey would hate it…eventually. I looked over at him. He was talking to one of his close friends, who was another actor. I wondered what had happened with Caroline. There were a few other women with pink threads running toward Davey, but I could see that they wouldn’t be long term. My heart sank as I realized that there was a pink thread running in between myself and Davey. Not good. I couldn’t see where it was going, since Davey’s Fate was already so hazy. I was going to have to try harder.

  Davey was walking toward me. He was rubbing his nose.

  “Are you ready to move on?” he asked me.

  “Did you just do coke?” I exclaimed.

  “Well, we’re at a party,” he said. I rolled my eyes. I felt like I needed to babysit him.

  “Let me get Caroline’s information,” I said. “She might be good for you.”

  “Veronica said no call girls,” he replied. I stood there, staring at him in exhaustion.

  Chapter Eight

  I was home for Sunday dinner. Mom and I were putting the food on when she placed her hands on her hips and studied me closely.

  “Okay, Penny. Spill the beans. Who is he?”

  “What?”

  “You’re glowing. Obviously, you’re seeing someone.”

  “Oh, no. I’m not seeing anyone,” I said, fatigued already. “I mean, look at what happened to my last fiancé. A full body cast. Jeremy is never talking to me again. What next? Death? I have to stop while I’m ahead.” Mom shook her head.

  “I have a new client. A celebrity, whose endorsement might be enough to save business.”

  “Really? Who is it? Anyone I know?”

  “Davey Allred.”

  “That’s so exciting, Penny!”

  “It is,” I replied. “It’s the only reason that I’m so happy. Business. Business is the reason.”

  She looked at me, her eyebrow raised. It was clear that she didn’t believe me.

  “Penny, I support you, in all things,” my mother said. “But you aren’t getting any younger, and it’s really important to have someone to share your later life with. I know that I went through a lot of tough relationships, but I kept going until I met Ted. He’s a really great guy, and he supports me.”

  “I know, and I’m happy for you two.”

  “That’s all I’m going to say.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” She nodded, and went back to basting her roast chicken. I opened the can of green beans, relieved that she was dropping the subject.

  Over dinner, my sister, Jenna, was talking about her wedding plans. Her fiancé, Greg, sat beside her, silently masticating green beans and chicken.

  “So we’ll have about one hundred and fifty people, which the Country Club can easily accommodate,” Jenna was saying. “Hey, Pen, have you figured out whether you’re bringing a Plus One yet?”

  “She will have a Plus One,” my grandmother piped up before taking a bite of chicken. Everyone looked at her, surprised. “Lucy, this chicken is wonderful.”

  “Grandma?” I asked.

  “The Fates,” she mumbled. Myrtle McCrairie was a famous seer. She dealt in Fate magic. It was less sure-fire than Love magic. It set my non-supernatural family members on edge. Jenna looked at me, her eyes wide and hopeful.

  “You could bring Davey Allred,” she said, ecstatic at the idea of having a Hollywood celebrity at her wedding.

  “Absolutely not,” I replied. “He’s a client.” My sister exhaled and rolled her eyes.

  “Does everyone NOT remember what happened to my last fiancé?” I erupted. “Jeremy was in a FULL BODY CAST. Imagine if that happened to a client. It’s a terrible idea.”

  “Well, I do have some single bridesmaids who would be thrilled to meet Davey,” Jenna said. “And think of it as a wedding present to me if he’s in the photos.” I rolled my eyes.

  “I’ll ask,” I said dryly. “Don’t hold your breath.”

  ~*~

  “So, Davey says that you are, like, not interested in dating,” Marcus said. He was Davey’s best friend, and fellow actor. Marcus liked doing his own stunts. He was famous for it.

  “Nope. Not at all,” I responded. He laughed.

  “Seems kinda silly to go on a double date,” he replied.

  “Think of it like recon,” I replied. He cocked an eyebrow.

  “Cynthia,” I explained, gesturing toward Davey and the woman that I had set him up with. “I have a good feeling about. But am I sure? No. Not until I observe them interacting.”

  “I see. I guess we both have a vested interest in seeing how they interact,” Marcus said.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. His liaisons with the ladies are a bit…self destructive, you know?” I smiled at him, studying his threads as I did so. He was going to meet his match soon, I realized. Any day now. Marcus held out his bag of popcorn to me. “We both have the same goal, you and I.”

  “I could definitely use some help from the inside.”

  “From the inside?” he asked. “Oh, yes. I could help you there.” I
could tell he was invoking the overtures of flirtation, and I placed my hand inside of the popcorn bag, which he snapped shut with his fingers, like the bag was biting off my hand. I squealed a little, laughing as he growled. I had no interest whatsoever in Marcus, but he definitely was fun to be around.

  I glanced over at Davey and Cynthia, who were having fun over by a ring toss game. They were smiling and talking, and Davey leaned forward to whisper something in her ear. The pink threads from Cynthia were growing brighter, glowing with a confident warmth.

  Davey walked over to us. He was frowning a little.

  “I forgot my phone at the last ride,” he said. My heart stopped as I reached into my purse. Mine was missing, as well.

  “I forgot mine in the storage box,” I said. “I can go back and get them.” Marcus leaned over and whispered something to Davey. I couldn’t tell what because he was facing away from me. Davey nodded, and he walked toward me, as if to come with.

  “Oh, you don’t have to come,” I said, a tiny bit annoyed.

  “No, I want to,” Davey said.

  Chapter Nine

  “Tell me again about your success rate,” Davey said. I looked over at him. He had his hands in his pockets, and he strolled beside me comfortably.

  “Well, it only really works when the client is ready for love,” I explained.

  “How does your power work?”

  “I see threads. They connect everyone to each other. No matter their current relationship—stranger, friend, whomever. Depending upon the potential or the type of relationship, the thread is a different color.”

  “How many people have you set up?”

  “Hundreds,” I replied, shrugging. “I’m not always successful, and I do refund if I can’t help. I could force things, easily. But that would be immoral. And the forced ones never last.”

  “So, you could…”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  “It’s from experience. I helped a friend in high school with a love spell. It was super messy.” He looked at me, his eyebrow raised.

  “You don’t want to know.” We reached the ferris wheel, where we had left our phones. Upon retrieving them, we ran into the waiter from the restaurant.