Not long after the sun has set, I hear the door open, and the rustling of fabric, but I don’t turn around immediately.
Bracing myself for her beauty, I inhale a deep breath and slowly turn to face her. She’s standing just inside of the door, her hair long and shiny, her berry lips parted, and her eyes wide as they move around the room quickly, taking everything in around her.
Dipping my chin in greeting, I take the moment to allow my gaze to roam over her entire body. I jerk back slightly at the sight of her. She’s wearing what looks to be thick men’s pants and a shirt of some kind. I can’t quite tell what the fabric is made of, but it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
“Who are you?” I ask in a harsh, demanding tone without meaning to. The words slip out through my surprise.
To her credit, she doesn’t even flinch from my harshness. “I’m Birdie Collins. Who are you?”
Her brow arches and her berry lips press together as she waits for my response. I think about playing with her, knowing that she no doubt knows exactly who I am. There is not a man, woman, or child who doesn’t know who I am in this land. Deciding that playing games is not something that I wish to do today, I tell her the truth.
“Colton James, most folks I’m friendly with call me Colt.”
I watch as she looks around the room once more, then her lips turn up into a small smile. “And where exactly are we? Because I know this isn’t Arizona… unless…”
“Oh my god, is this one of those reenactment ghost towns? You’re all actors, right?” she asks, lifting her hand and twirling her finger around. “How did I even get here? Are my sisters here? Are they fucking with me?”
Arching a brow, I lift my hands to my hips and watch her, confused by her words, by their meaning, and the speed with which she says them. I’ve never heard a woman or person talk this fast in my entire life.
“I understand the words you’ve said, but the context has lost me,” I admit.
She tilts her head to the side. “Man, I mean I knew a lot of reenactment places took shit completely seriously, but I guess I never thought that ghost town ones would,” she mumbles.
“Why don’t you go and sit down, have something to eat. You’re probably hungry,” I say, lifting my hand toward the tray of food.
She turns her head to look behind her and then faces me again, her lips pressed together, but she doesn’t move immediately. Instead, she stays firm in her position and watches me for a long silent moment.
I wait for her to speak, but she doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, she just watches me, her eyes focusing on my own and for some reason, I don’t want her to look away. I want those blue eyes on me, though she sees too much of who I am, looks too deeply, far too dratted deeply.
Then, as if the staring contest, the spell, is broken, she turns on her heels and walks over to the table. I watch as she sinks down and then lifts her hand and makes a motion for me to sit across from her. My feet become unstuck from the floor and I march toward the empty seat, sinking down, unable to look away the entire time.
BIRDIE
Even his name is an old-timey western cowboy name. He looks exactly like one too, like an old west cowboy, but hotter than any of the pictures I’ve seen in my history books.
Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I think about the fact that I’m here, in this reenactment place, but there aren’t any other people looking around and ogling this hot guy. There aren’t any tourists anywhere at all.
Then there’s the fact that we’re sitting on the furniture, something that I’m pretty sure is a huge no-no and the food in front of me is on a silver platter, a really pretty one, a really old looking one. No way would a historical reenactment place allow that shit.
Slowly, I reach across the table and pluck an apple slice from the tray. Bringing it to my lips, I’m a bit surprised to find that it’s room temperature, expecting a cold apple the way that I usually eat them. Then, once I’ve chewed and swallowed the slice, I take a few grapes, which are also at room temperature.
Wrinkling my nose, I reach for the silver cup in front of me that happens to match the platter beautifully and take a sip of the, once again, room temperature water.
“Everything is room temperature,” I point out.
He lifts a brow and watches me for a moment. “This is something you’re pointing out to me…”
“Don’t you have a fridge? A freezer?” I ask.
He doesn’t say anything immediately, instead he continues to watch me. He leans back in his chair, his gaze focused on mine and nowhere else. He still doesn’t speak and I wait for what he’s about to say, knowing that he has something on his mind.
Personally, I just want to know where the hell I am and where my sisters are. Sitting up a little straighter, I lean forward slightly, trying not to blush at the way he stares at me, never wavering, his gaze intense and far too sexy for his own good, plus there’s the way his green eyes sparkle.
“How about this?” I suggest. “I ask a question, you give me an answer. You ask a question, I give you an answer.”
He leans back in his seat even farther, his eyes still never leaving mine and his lips curve up into an even bigger smile. He lets out a chuckle as he lifts his hand and rubs his palm against his chin a few times.
“I could do that. Except, I won’t be answering your questions and you’ll be answering all of mine.”
My lips part, then I snap them closed and narrow my eyes on his. “That’s not fair,” I point out.
He chuckles, and it sounds like smooth warm honey and I hate it, mainly because I like it so damned much. I should be terrified of this guy, but I’m not. I should be demanding to know where the hell I am and where my sisters are, but he has me mesmerized.
I am in serious awe of him. Complete and total serious awe and I hate myself for it more than I hate him.
“Life isn’t fair, darlin’ and I’m not either. I don’t have to be, considering I’m the one in charge of this entire country.”
“In charge?” I ask.
His lips twitch. “That’s a question and I shouldn’t answer it.”
“But you will,” I snap.
He dips his chin. “I will, mainly because I’m starting to believe you don’t know exactly who I am. Though, I think you know why you’re here, but I don’t and I aim to figure that out right soon.”
I open my mouth to tell him that I don’t know why I’m here or where here even is, considering one of his men brought me to this house, to him, but I decide not to cause a stink. He’s talking to me and I’m more than eager to find out what the fuck is actually going on here.
“I’m the ruler of this entire country. I was appointed by the Assembly and I am the highest authority. Now, please tell me how you wound up walking in my desert, not only in my country, but on my personal land?”
I blink. Then I blink again. My throat goes dry and I think about bursting out laughing, except my hands start to shake and my throat closes up, because he’s being completely serious which means he’s fucking crazy.
Lifting one of my shaky hands, I run my fingers through my hair, trying to think of a question that he may answer. Something simple that will tell me a lot.
“What is the name of this country, where am I?”
He arches a brow, and he’s quiet. I think that he’s not going to answer me, but then he does. “You’re in the country of Devilrise, we’re a dry, dusty, desert country. But specifically, you’re in the Silverridge.”
I think really hard about laughing and try to hold it in, but I can’t. It bubbles out of me, no matter how hard I try to keep it inside. “Devilrise, Silverridge? You have to be joking. This is a joke, right? Am I on television? Where is the hidden camera? Tell me that they’ve been getting all of this,” I cry out.
Except, nobody else is laughing and my giggles quickly die down. Colt is staring at me, his jaw clenched. And the man standing quietly to the side, Stick-Up-His-Ass-Dude, he’s staring at me too, I c
an feel his gaze on mine.
I gulp, staring at them. “You’re not joking, are you?” I ask on a whisper.
He shakes his head once. His intense gaze never leaving mine. “Who are you? Where do you come from? Who do you work for?” he grinds out.
Gone is the easygoing hot cowboy and now in front of me is a man that scares the absolute shit out of me. Not a little bit, but a lot a bit.
My body starts to tremble and I lick my lips, wishing that I hadn’t taken that small sip of room temperature water for granted a few moments ago.
“Colton,” I whisper, my voice shaky and full of the same fear that flows throughout my entire body.
Chapter Three
COLT
She is scared. Everything she gives off is akin to terror. I can practically smell it rolling off of her in waves. Clearing my throat, I think about what to say next. She thinks this is all some kind of joke, and she’s serious.
There is no hint of deception in her tone, in her eyes or the way that she carries herself. I should know, during the civil war, it was one of my greatest strengths, to determine if a friend or foe was being honest and forthcoming or lying.
She clears her throat, shifting in her seat, but she doesn’t shy away from my gaze. She should. I may not be tearing her apart limb from limb right now, but I won’t hesitate to do so if I see the need. She is a woman, but she is not immune to treachery. And I find her attractive, but I do not make decisions with just my cock.
“Who do you work for? Where are you from?” I demand again.
I watch as she gulps, then shakes her head once. “I am Birdie Collins and I’m from Seattle, but I live in Arizona. Will you please tell me what’s really going on here?”
My head jerks, and I shift my gaze over to Ernest, who shakes his head once. He doesn’t know those places either.
“In what country?” I ask, thinking that possibly she’s a foreign spy.
My country, Devilrise, is isolated from the rest of the world, so foreign spies aren’t something we have to deal with often.
I think about gathering the Assembly and letting them deal with her, but they would lock her up never to be seen again, and there is something about her. Something that I can’t quite put my finger on, I don’t want to toss her away without the key just yet, not until I figure her out.
Licking my lips, I wait for her answer. She’s scared, her body trembling right before me. She begins to speak, but I don’t understand what exactly she’s telling me.
“I’m from the United States, Colt. That’s where I am right now, isn’t it?”
United States.
I like the name of it, but it’s nowhere I’ve ever heard of before. I admit that I’m not a professional geographer, however, I would like to think that I know the basics and this is not a basic country that I’ve ever encountered the name of before.
“Ernest, have you heard of this land?” I ask.
Ernest takes a step forward, finally deciding to speak. Shifting my eyes to meet his, I watch as he shakes his head once. “It does not exist, sir. I have studied the world’s geography extensively in my past and it does not exist.”
Birdie jumps to her feet, the chair falling down behind her. I watch as she scrambles backward and almost falls, but doesn’t. If she were wearing a dress and corset, she would have already fallen and passed out from lack of oxygen in her panic.
Standing, I take a couple steps toward her, reaching out, I wrap my hand around her waist to steady her. She sucks in a breath, her eyes wide as she begins to pant. Her waist is small, I don’t think I’ve felt one this small without being in a corset, unless it was a starving soiled dove.
Tugging her toward me, I force her body to slam against my chest. Her lips part in awe as she tilts her head back.
“Colt,” she breathes, causing my cock to stand at full attention just at the sound of my name on her lips.
Dipping my head, I almost touch my lips to hers, but I gather all of my self-control and shake my head once.
“You’ll tell me everything, Birdie. The truth of it all. Who are you?” I grind out.
She shakes her head a couple of times, her blue eyes panicked and frantic as she lifts her hands between us and places her palms on my chest. I want those hands everywhere, all over my bare body.
“I’m just Birdie Collins. I live in Phoenix, Arizona. I’m single and my two sisters are missing. I thought maybe this was all some big joke. You’re scaring me,” she whispers through trembling lips.
Her fear does not make me want her less, if anything, I want to gather her in my arms and violently make love to her in this very moment because she is so frightened. Searching her gaze, I don’t see deception looking back at me.
“You are not in Arizona and I’ve never heard of the place. Your sisters are not here, darlin’.”
“I’m starting to think that is the case,” she breathes.
My lips turn up into a small smile. “Is this witchcraft?” I ask softly.
“Witchcraft?” she gasps.
I nod my head once. “Witchcraft may be accepted in other countries, Birdie, but it is not here. Women are burned at the stake for such practices. Dark or otherwise, magic is not acceptable in Devilrise.”
She pushes against my chest, but I don’t allow her to push me away. Flexing my muscles, I keep her close against me. I watch as water fills her eyes and I realize that she must be understanding her fate. That she indeed must be a witch.
“I’m not, Colt. You have to believe me,” she begs. I want to do just that, truly I do, but I don’t.
“What do you use your witchcraft for?” I ask, hoping that she will say it is only for good and sunshine, for bright and happy things. I may be able to keep her alive if this is the case, if she only uses it to help people.
“I’m not a witch,” she hisses. “I’m not,” she denies, grinding out her words as wet tears begin to fall down her cheeks.
Dipping my chin, I touch my mouth to hers, unable to keep from taking a taste of her, at least once. She’s sweet, sweeter than anything else I’ve tasted in my entire life.
Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve only been with bordello women, but this is better than any kiss I’ve had in years and I haven’t even tasted the inside of her sweet mouth, yet.
Lifting my head, I look into her eyes. “What is your explanation, Birdie?” I ask. “You have never heard of my country and I’ve never heard of yours. You come here dressed as a man, in strange fabric that I’ve never seen or felt before. You’re found in the middle of the desert, my desert, and you speak strangely. You act strangely, as well, and you are just plain strange.”
She gasps, looking as if I’ve offended her. I can’t help but laugh at her offense. I still don’t release her, wanting to stay close to her, enjoying the way her soft body feels in my arms. I want nothing more than to slide my hand up her back and test the softness of her hair, too.
“I don’t know how I got here, but I’m no witch. I don’t even think they have witches in my country, at least not that I know of anyway. Maybe they do, maybe they don’t. I mean, I’ve heard rumors, but I try not to really read into those, not unless I’ve seen whatever the rumor is with my own eyes. Plus, it’s not like everyone is going to be running around screaming about the fact that they’re a witch. Even where I come from, I think it would really be frowned upon.”
She snaps her lips closed and I can’t help but laugh at her rambling. This is something that she seems to do often, perhaps only when she’s scared or nervous, but I enjoy it greatly. I don’t know why, but I think that it is adorable, especially when her blue eyes sparkle as she comes up with all of her swift words as they run together in her tangents.
“If you’re not a witch, tell me how you ended up in Devilrise, a place that you claim you’ve never heard of before.”
She hums, shaking her head, then presses her lips together for a moment, before she starts to speak. “I don’t know how I ended up here. I’m still banking on the
fact that this is a really vivid dream and I’ll be waking up in my own car or bed at any given moment.”
I shake my head. “This is no dream, darlin’. But there is something unearthly about you, I’m just trying to figure it out.”
“Until then?” she asks on a whisper.
“I’m not sure. Until then, I need to keep you close, make sure you don’t cast any spells on me, my men, or my country.”
BIRDIE
Colton leaves me with a brush of his lips and the tray of food that he forces Ernest to carry back into the bedroom across the hall. Martha is still at her post, but Colt calls her into the hallway. I try not to eavesdrop, well that’s a lie, I do eavesdrop. It’s what I do, it’s what I’ve always done and it’s always, always, gotten me into trouble.
You’ll keep an eye on her, Martha, when I’m not around. Right now, I need you to find suitable clothing for her.
But, sir, we don’t know who she is. She could be dangerous.
Martha hisses, sounding seriously peeved that she has to go shopping for me and hang out with me. I’m kind of fun, and I’m always up for an adventure, so I’m not sure why she’d be so miffed about hanging out.
Do as I’ve asked. Unless I need to order you?
No, sir.
Her words come out on a growl and I’m sure Colt knows just as well as I do that, she doesn’t really mean them. I mean, maybe it would be better if he did order her, at least she could pretend it was just her duty and she wasn’t doing it to be nice or whatever.
She will dine with me later this evening. I have some letters to deal with and a meeting with the General in thirty minutes. We have some business to discuss. Then we will have our supper.
I hear footsteps walk away. Backing away from the door, I stand at the window, quickly turning around so that I can look at the dusty ground below.
There are some more muffled murmurs and I assume that it’s the Stick-Up-His-Ass-Dude and Martha gossiping about me or trying to figure out what the hell they’re going to do to me. I hear the door open, but I don’t look behind me.
Bride of the Frontier (The Prophecy of Sisters Book 3) Page 3
