Toil And Trouble

  I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to live with such a blank space within you, knowing someone you loved had been prematurely taken from you. It was almost as if Rand wasn’t complete.

  “I wish you had told me this sooner,” I whispered.

  He turned and faced me with a sad smile. “It’s difficult to think about.”

  “You would rather live with a void than live with the memories?”

  “Yes,” he said emphatically. “If I remembered the particulars, I don’t think I’d be alive or if I were, I don’t think I’d be sane. That’s what I meant when I said love is all encompassing. It’s not something to be taken lightly.”

  And for the first time ever, I felt as if I was beginning to understand Rand, to understand his constant vacillations between wanting me and not. It didn’t make our situation any easier, if anything it added another layer to the strata of difficulty that was knowing and loving him.

  “Hold me, Rand,” I whispered, wanting and needing to touch him.

  He pulled me into him and squeezed me while resting his chin in the valley of my shoulder. “Once this war is behind us, Jolie…” he started.

  “Shhh,” I interrupted. “Let’s not think about it now. You’re right, there’s too much at stake with Bella and Ryder.”

  “Yes, that’s so.”

  “Will you stay with me tonight?” I asked.

  “I wasn’t planning to leave,” he answered and rolled me over so I could face him.

  “You’re breaking my rule,” I said with a smile.

  “And what rule is that?”

  “You’re not in your jammies.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t sleep in jammies, as you call them.”

  “What do you sleep in?”

  He smiled. “Nothing.”

  “Then I suggest you get ready for bed.”

  He pulled his sweater over his head, revealing the familiar broad expanse of his tan muscular chest. His pecs and taut stomach were just as glorious as they always had been. He stood and unbuckled his pants, allowing them to drop to the floor. But he didn’t remove his boxers.

  “I thought you said you slept naked?”

  “One of us needs to be in control,” he answered.

  “Hmm, and what makes you think I’m not?”

  He didn’t answer but wrapped his hands around my ankles. Without any warning, he pulled me down the length of the bed until he was perched between my legs. Then he lifted me up and leaned against me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked in a breathy voice.

  “You’ll find out.”

  And before I could formulate another thought, he slid my panties off.

  “Rand!”

  He pushed my legs apart and with a lascivious smile, forced his head between them. And that’s when I felt his tongue prying me apart, eagerly lapping up my wetness. As his tongue darted in and out of me, I tried to arch up against him but my body felt limp, still too weak to respond.

  My mouth still worked and I moaned and cried out unabashedly. At the moment of my climax, he replaced his tongue with a finger.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  When I did, he was flushed, his eyes wild with desire.

  “Rand,” I breathed.

  “I’ve wanted to taste you since the moment we met.”

  “Me too,” I said like a moron.

  “Tell me how you want me to touch you,” Rand insisted as he outlined my entrance, a smile playing with the corner of his lips. “Like this or perhaps my finger inside you?”

  He knew exactly how much this was torturing me. I didn’t answer and he pulled away.

  “Answer, Jolie.”

  “Oh my God,” I groaned. “If you don’t keep touching me, I’m going to murder you.”

  He chuckled and pushed his fingers inside me as I screamed out. “One or two fingers, Jolie?”

  “Two, two please!”

  And he plunged them back in me as I groaned. “I want you inside me, Rand.”

  “No, Jolie, not yet,” and his mouth was back on me, sucking as his fingers dove in and out. I started moaning again, my lungs panting.

  “I want you to come for me, Jolie,” he whispered.

  Bliss exploded within me as I opened my eyes to find his fixated on me, heavy with desire. He smiled, his dimples barely cresting, as his gaze traveled from my eyes, down to my breasts and further still, until he watched his fingers thrusting in and out of me. I clenched my eyes closed again, gripped the coverlet and allowed his fingers to take me to my own nirvana.

  “Wow,” I said with a smile as I returned to earth.

  Rand chuckled but continued pushing his fingers all the way inside me, only to pull them all the way out again.

  “God, I love watching your body react to me,” he said in a raspy voice.

  “Mmm, I loved feeling my body react to you.”

  His eyes clouded over with hunger and he dropped his head between my thighs again, pushing his tongue into me with renewed fervor. I arched up against him, grabbing his head as if to push his tongue further into me. Another rain of bliss showered down on me and I screamed out my pleasure.

  “I could get addicted to your taste,” he whispered.

  “What about you?” I asked, motioning to the raging torpedo that was visibly straining against his boxers.

  “Tonight is about you.”

  He got up and walked to his side of the bed, spooning himself beside me. He reached down and pulled the coverlet up and over us both, pulling me back into his erection. His hands cupped my breasts and he kissed my cheek.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered. “Now it’s going to take you longer to heal. That must have drained all the energy you’ve been working on rebuilding.”

  “I don’t care.”

  And that was the God honest truth.

  “You know what I just realized?” I asked and turned around.

  “What’s that?”

  “You didn’t have to undress me in the first place. You could have just used your magic.”

  Rand chuckled. “I’m glad you failed to remind me.”

  three

  Rand had been right—our carnal activities had zapped any improvement to my health I’d gained over the last week. But, I couldn’t say I regretted it. In fact, it turned out to be one of the best evenings we’d ever spent together. And, believe me, I’d replayed the night’s events at least one hundred times over.

  Granted it was a major bummer he’d been in love with someone else but it helped me understand his attitude toward serious relationships, especially where bonding was concerned. This was a much better reason for us to be cautious rather than the fact that he was my boss, (which he’d been throwing at me since I’d first met him).

  It had been four days since our steamy tryst and we couldn’t get any private time. Rand had been overly preoccupied with the various creatures being recruited into our army. Odran’s forces had already arrived at Pelham Manor and quickly began felling trees and constructing rudimentary forts to serve as their shelters for the next few months. Almost immediately after the fairies, the vampires and their humans (think walking blood banks) arrived, followed by the werewolves.

  What I found interesting, comical almost, was that each faction insisted on separating itself from the others. The fairies’ camp was closest to the stream, allowing the pixies to find refuge in the water lilies. The pixies, who were about as tall as my thumb, scouted the banks of the stream, reporting to the fairies when any other creatures came too close. The werewolves chose a locale bordering the woods. The vampires busied themselves digging their pits and burying their caskets in the middle of the field while their humans set up tents along the perimeter of the caskets. There was no intermingling; they kept to their own in a great show of pride.

  Although I found the hordes of vampires, fairies and werewolves impressive, the same couldn’t be said for Rand’s coven of witches which numbered…twelve. In his defense, this coven had only
recently become his. Rand was infamous for not allying himself with anyone. While witch covens were only able to stay in power by taking on outside jobs (exorcisms, tarot readings, palmistry, etc.), Rand, the recluse, opted to work singly and picked his own jobs. But, after the estrangement between Rand and Bella was known, some of the witches migrated to Rand’s territory and in the end, he had no choice but to become their leader.

  The twelve witches laid claim to a small piece of land ignored by the other creatures who outnumbered them twenty to one. The coven was comprised of eight warlocks and four witches, from different nations; but the majority were Americans. Their skills were as varied as their backgrounds; some were newbies and others were pretty advanced.

  As far as our war effort was concerned, Rand was determined to protect Pelham Manor so the fairies had woven magical nets from tree to tree at the edges of his property; one misstep and you’d be as fried as a catfish in Louisiana. And if that weren’t enough to keep our enemies out, Rand had insisted each of the creatures take turns scouting the property to ensure nothing got through the fairy nets.

  In recent days, I had occupied most of my time by trying to relocate from the butler’s quarters into Pelham Manor. Because I was still so weak, I wasn’t much help—just telling the two witches Rand had assigned me where to put what.

  It wasn’t entirely thrilling to be living in Pelham Manor again. I mean, on the one hand, it was wonderful to be nearer Rand (my bedroom was coincidentally adjacent to his) but I cherished my privacy. Besides that, lurking in the back of my mind was the fact that the last time I’d lived inside the walls of Pelham Manor, my relationship with Rand had steadily and inexorably fallen apart.

  I was also bummed by the fact that I had to leave the bungalow I called home and further bummed that Odran snatched the tenancy along with two of his fairy paramours (aka fairamours). Rand had jumped at the opportunity to relet it to Odran, knowing it would mean one less male in the house. But, he still had Trent and Sinjin under his roof.

  What bothered me more than the idea of Odran sleeping in my bed was the fact that I was now living in such close proximity to my ex, Trent. Despite our brief interlude, now I couldn’t stand him. His reputation as a player hadn’t stopped me from dating him even though I’d known this from the get go. Instead, I basically faceplanted for his charismatic charm. Our relationship had lasted all of a month when he dumped me, explaining he was just too dangerous to date. Stupid me.

  The living situation was made slightly more bearable by Rand’s insistence that Sinjin, Trent and Odran only interact with us when absolutely necessary, that is, when discussing all things pertinent to the war. Otherwise we merely lived under the same roof while conducting very separate lives.

  While our lives might have been separate, we were united by the impending war. The topic of war preoccupied every discussion in the house. It made me nervous to think about it and I couldn’t help but think about it constantly, especially when war was the single topic on everyone’s tongue. Truth be known, I was sick to death of it.

  The war was to be held in exactly three months, on March 15th, otherwise known as the Ides of March. And the location? The battlefield of Culloden, in Scotland, the scene of the legendary Jacobite defeat by the British throne. Irony certainly wasn’t lost on the creatures of the Underworld.

  Rand, with the help of Odran, Sinjin and Trent had drafted what can only be referred to as an invitation to battle. The language seemed to have been borrowed from some ancient text and sounded as rudimentary as the act of delivering a war summons, itself. Did one employ Fedex for such a purpose? I never found out.

  Regardless, the war summons had been delivered and Rand expected Bella’s response in exactly two weeks’ time. Delaying any longer would just be downright rude.

  It was almost funny to watch Rand, Trent, and Odran when the mail arrived everyday—you’d have thought they were waiting on Publisher’s Clearing House. And as far as the postman was concerned, Rand had to resort to putting a spell on the poor guy so he wasn’t aware of what was happening. Then Odran took a sample of his blood with one of my brooches and Rand used the blood in an incantation which gained the postman entrance through our barricade. We could only hope the postman wasn’t one of Bella’s employees.

  “Push against him harder, Trent!” Rand yelled as Trent, in were form, battled Sinjin in the moonlight.

  It was another night of training for the battle. I sat next to Christa, both of us bundled in a chenille blanket as we swung back and forth on a wooden swing which was attached to the bough of an ancient pine tree. The tree stood at the crest of a small hill which gave us a bird’s eye view as our legions battled one another, bursts of light and clashing of steel weapons interrupting the otherwise still night.

  It was like something out of a sci-fi movie—fairies weaving their magic while the vampires used their incredible speed to thwart their opponents and the werewolves were equally intimidating with their gnashing teeth and heart-stopping cries. It was nearly impossible to see the witches in the warring throng of otherworldly creatures.

  And over all this, Rand played overlord. He looked like a coach as he weaved in and out of the faux battle, calling orders and offering encouragement. He disappeared into the moving sea of soldiers and I returned my attention to the scene directly before me—Trent getting his ass kicked by Sinjin.

  It was a spectacle I couldn’t say I didn’t enjoy.

  “This is not a challenge,” Sinjin said.

  Trent was on the ground, Sinjin’s fangs poised above Trent’s carotid. Even though Trent was in wolf form, which made him incredibly strong in his own right, he couldn’t seem to break free of Sinjin’s iron grip. Trent howled and Sinjin pulled away from him, his fangs retracting as he spotted me and stood up. He took two steps from the defeated werewolf and bowed theatrically.

  “Did you enjoy the show, Ladies?” he asked.

  “It’s getting a little old,” Christa answered. “I mean, it was cool the first time but now it’s like…rerun.”

  “I apologize if you find us less than amusing,” he said with a smile. Never one to be offended, he seemed more amused than anything else.

  “Apology accepted,” Christa answered as she scouted the warring soldiers for a sign of John, her favorite werewolf.

  Speaking of werewolves, as I looked past Sinjin to Trent, Trent got back up on all fours and panted breathlessly before transforming into his human shape, as naked as the day he was born. He stood up and smiled broadly at me.

  “Ugh,” I muttered and lowered my eyes.

  “Cover it up!” Christa yelled.

  Trent’s hands were on either side of his hips and his limp thingy just flopped to the side like even it was unimpressed.

  “Just wanted Jolie to see what she’s missing.”

  He sort of gyrated his hips until he was hula-hooping sausage style.

  “Oh my God,” Christa said with disgust in her eyes. “That,” and she pointed to his unit, “is so NOT impressive.”

  “Touche,” Sinjin hissed in a serpentine sort of way. Then he turned to face his idiotic opponent. “Perhaps you should dress before you embarrass yourself further?”

  Trent didn’t say anything, just regressed into his wolf shape and trotted away.

  Christa turned to me. “You good?”

  I nodded. Trent would never get under my skin again. “I’m good.”

  I glanced up and found Sinjin leaning against the pine tree, watching us with unveiled interest.

  “Tonight Varick arrives,” he said, grabbing my attention.

  Varick was Sinjin’s boss and a master vampire of the first order, being over one thousand years old. We’d been awaiting his appearance for some time now. I never knew why it was that Varick was arriving so late and just figured it was due to the nature of vampires—they conducted themselves according to their own schedules and a vampire was never on time.

  “When?” I asked.

  Sinjin shook his head. “He
is close.”

  “How do you know?” Christa asked.

  “I can feel him in my veins.”

  Christa frowned. “Are you guys like…you know?” she asked and wobbled her hand from side to side.

  “I do not follow,” Sinjin said.

  I sighed. “She’s asking if you and Varick have ever been together in… that way.”

  Jeez, I sounded as ridiculous as she did. Even though we both sounded moronic, it was a good question and one I’d wondered—not about Sinjin’s sexuality necessarily but about vampires in general. It seemed that being alive, or in their cases, undead for century after century might cause one to consider alternatives to man-woman relations. I mean, there has to be a point at which you’ve been there, done that, right?

  Sinjin chuckled and interrupted my inner monologue.

  “I’m afraid not, Poppet. I prefer women, as you well know.”

  Well, that answered my question. And, yes, I well knew which woman he was referring to. If I had a dollar for every lascivious glance or flirtatious smile Sinjin gave me, I’d be a wealthy woman. I really didn’t mind—I mean, there was that whole achingly frustrating situation with Rand. If anything, Sinjin was a relief from the drama of agonizing over the what ifs with Rand.

  Of course any flirtations with Sinjin weren’t serious…

  “Whoa, am I tired.”

  I turned to the sound of John, now in his human shape, as he threw a tee shirt over his muscular torso (he’d already covered his privates) and approached Christa. She dropped her side of the blanket and jumped off our swing, sending me into a tailspin before Sinjin reached over and steadied me.

  “How did you do, Babe?” Christa asked as she wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled into his chest. He kissed the top of her head and I glanced away, not wanting to act the voyeur to their personal affection. And I immediately put the kibosh on the inkling of envy that started twining around my heart.

  “Those vamps and fairies sure are somethin’ to reckon with,” John said.

  Sinjin motioned to the empty spot next to me. “May I sit with you?”

  “Sure.”