A Wicked Beginning

A Wicked Beginning

Book II in the Wicked Series

Calinda B

Copyrighted Material

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, persons, places or things, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2011, Calinda B

Cover design by Sumner McKenzie, Inc.

Published in eBook format by Sumner McKenzie, Inc.

Converted by
http://www.eBookIt.com

ISBN-13: 978-0-9839-1261-3

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without prior written permission of the publisher.

Sumner McKenzie, Inc.

Kingston, WA 98346

www.sumnermckenzie.com

First Edition, October 2011

DEDICATION

Dedicated to all those brave individuals willing to face themselves, heal and grow. Keep exploring the sexy world inside and outside your head.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Endless gratitude and love goes out to John, Dak, Osaj, and Ann for sharing their love, support, opinions, thoughts and feelings with me. Thanks to the cats for keeping me entertained. Special thanks to Jenn for helping me with animal tracking and woodsy scenes. Thanks to Melody Clark for her enthusiastic editorial work.

And thanks to Ron, just because.

Chapter 1 – Cam

It was just a small tear, that tiny separation of atoms and particles which occurred on the edge of the Milky Way Galaxy. Was it the mere breath of the beast that caused it, or was it a naturally occurring phenomenon? It didn’t matter. What mattered was that the breach was large enough for a silvery sliver of sharp claw to push through, then a paw, then a powerful sinewy leg, followed by a brilliant burst of electromagnetic energy that represented the body of the beast. Once it had pushed through the fissure, it shook its powerful body, causing a luminous burst of
gasses
to shimmer off of its form and whirl through space. Following a trail of stars, the pulsing energy moved through the galaxy until it got to the furthest reaches of the atmosphere of Earth. It burst into the heavens like a comet, trailing a long fiery stream behind it.

Anyone who happened to be up at that time of the day would think a meteorite or space junk was plummeting to Earth. They might feel a thrill at the phenomenon, whip out their cell phone and take a picture, hoping to be the first to capture this exciting moment. When they tried to retrieve the photo, however, all they’d get was a blank screen. For this meteorite was a vibrating ball of energy whose sole intention was to find the person it had been looking for, for a long, long time. And once it found its mark? That was up to the man, now, wasn’t it?

Cameron Delaney Tyson awoke with a lurch and a start from another one of those goddamned nightmares he’d been having lately. This was not excitement by any stretch of the imagination. Shit. What the fuck was up with that? He didn’t usually dream; didn’t even believe in dreams as anything more than the daily recycling of garbage. But he’d been having this same dream now, for weeks, ever since he’d returned from San Diego last fall. The dreams were always the same. Black, gooey gobs shaped like, what was it, bats – these bat things were streaming after him like he was in some horror show. He’d be running and running and running. And there was always a woman, the same woman, in the middle of the goo, chasing him, like some hysterical wraith. She’d claw at him with long, pink fingernails. She’d try and wrap herself around him. She’d try to take his cock into her mouth while all the gooey fuckers would surround him, salivating and slurping as if they were hungry, and he was the main dish. That was the point at which he awoke, every single time.

Fuck. He couldn’t deal with this kind of shit. Flipping back the covers, he sat up, fully clothed. He hadn’t even bothered to undress last night. Yawning, he rubbed his stubble-lined face with his hands, raked his fingers through his blond hair, and surveyed his surroundings. He’d lived here for a few months now, but he just came and went – in and out the door…never really looked around. Today, he just felt like looking. The bed he was sitting on was a double – small, but it sufficed. There was a six-drawer dresser parked on the burnished oak wood floor, pushed up against an apricot painted wall devoid of pictures or art. On the opposite wall, double folding doors opened up to a fairly large closet, which held all his clothes, and most importantly, all his climbing gear. A door to a generous sized bathroom with a huge sunken tub and a separate glass-lined shower stall was on the facing wall. A window opposite his bed opened to Manoko’s amazing garden, which was flooded with bright morning sunlight. A door led to the yard so Cam could come and go in privacy. In addition, he had space enough in the garage for all his kayak gear. The only thing missing was Chérie Abella Manhattan…Cheerio…Chér…whatever she liked to be called,
she was the one for him
, Cam thought with a sigh. The things he could do to her in that big tub in the bathroom…

He was renting the room from Manoko Wikaira-Williams. The house was a sweet customized home in West Seattle, in a friendly neighborhood close to shops, coffee houses, and places to eat. Mano, as his close friends called him, was a huge 6’5,” 220 lb. guy with tattoos everywhere and a serious ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude. ½ European Mutt, ¼ Native American, and ¼ Maori, his bronze face sported traditional Moko – Maori tattoos – in homage to his ancestry. His ears sported heavy gold hoops, and he wore his thick, glossy, black hair short, with the exception of one long braid threaded with strands of red silk on the left side. The result was an exotic, scary looking dude with a bad ass looking face. Cam knew the truth about Mano, however, having been friends with the guy for ten years, since they were in their early twenties. Mano could rip the heart out of a rival if he wanted to, but in truth, he was a pussycat whose cooking skills could rival any top chef in the world. The guy gave these awesome dinner parties – he and Chérie had been to a couple of them – with food and drink in abundance. As a result, Mano had a garden out back that was small, but brimming with herbs, vegetables, and fruit trees.

Mano had rented the room to Cam, shortly after Cam and Chérie had split up last autumn. For that, Cam was grateful. Cam had been doing a lot of thinking lately, and this was a good place to think. It made his brain ache to think so much, but he had to sort some things out. For one, what was he going to do with his life now that he was done with school and internships? Second, what was he going to do without his beautiful Chérie? Damn, he missed her. But he knew he had some work to do to get his head right. Last year, when Chérie had found out she’d been molested as a child, he’d awakened some inner demons of his own, buried after he’d split from his abusive family. He’d grown frustrated with Chérie’s distance. He’d also been freaked out by her super human powers and the fact that she began to glow – as in light up like a Christmas tree – which he later discovered she’d learned from a guy he referred to as Fabio – while they were still together, mind you. He left her as a result, heading down to San Diego for a weekend of too much smoke, way too much drink, and angry sex with Angela, a former work associate.

Angela – bah – when he thought of her, his stomach recoiled. That was one fucked up female. Their last sexual foray had happened on the night Chérie had been drugged and nearly raped in a plan conceived by Chérie’s boss Jill Primcott and her Merry Band of Miscreants. Since then he’d kept his distance from Angela, spooked by something Chérie had told him…something about how Angela wanted him like a snake wanted a mouse. Chérie had got
that
right. Angela had been calling him so much, texting him at every hour of the day, telling him how she was ‘there for him,’ and she wanted to be his ‘comfort,’ blah, blah, blah; he’d finally put a block on her number. He’d finished up at High Road Recovery, the place where he’d done his internship, moved in to Manoko’s, and he was sure she didn’t know Manoko or where he lived. As he let himself into the bathroom to take a shower, he assumed that was that with Angela. Good riddance.

But Chérie – him and Chérie was a different matter altogether
, he thought, stripping off his clothes and cranking on the water. Sure, they’d evolved as “friends” if you could call it friendship when two people spent time together and one of them lusted for the other and the other seemed to feel the same lust, but kept putting up roadblocks. Sure thing…friendship it was. But Cam was not convinced that they’d remain in this state of confusion forever. He hoped they’d work it out and fucking engage again. Last time he saw her, she was becoming flaming, instant orgasm hot – so gorgeous – he could barely stand to be around her without exploding on sight…bursting into fragments like a fireworks display on the Fourth of July. In fact, as he thought of her, he started to feel aroused. Well, shit. This was becoming a regular occurrence for him. The only person he seemed to be having sex with lately was himself. Fuck. He wasn’t used to this. He’d had a fair amount of female play pals ever since he was 13, but when he met Chérie, he fell hard in love. As a result, he didn’t want anyone else…not until he proved to himself, for once and for all, that he and Chérie were through…or not…preferably the ‘not through with each other’ option. But how was he going to do that? They hadn’t seen each other lately…that was her call.

Sighing over the lack of sex play in his life, he soaped off his chest, his face, his underarms, his legs, and then got busy taking care of his needs. He brought to mind the last time he and his pretty amber-eyed Chérie had been to the rock climbing gym together…using her slender 5’ 4” body, she’d pushed him to the floor, pinned him with her super strength, but then he’d flipped her and turned the scales in his favor…until he kissed her, that is. He’d grabbed her auburn hair and kissed her deeply, French kissed her sweet mouth, savoring her lips and responsive tongue in return. Only this act had awakened some super sexual power she called the ka’kriyayaga or some shit like that. When this force was awakened in her, she did an amazing thing with her hands, stroking his back, and nearly causing him to orgasm, right there on the floor of the gym in front of a crowd. He wondered what it would feel like to be inside of her when she was in that place. Sadly, he’d never had the chance to find out.

Lost in thoughts of Chérie, he turned his back to the shower spray and continued to pleasure himself. As his free hand roamed his muscled body, he imagined reveling in Chérie, sucking her nipples, massaging her small, firm breasts, nibbling her neck, and being inside of her, moving in and out and in and out. The thought of it got him hotter and harder. He kept up his fantasy until he exploded, creamy fluids painting the shower stall. After his release, he let his body relax back into the tiles, allowing the hot water to wash his torso and flush his juices down the drain.

As he lay back against the shower wall, he heard a scratching at the bathroom door. That was odd. He was sure he’d closed the bedroom door to the hallway – how could anyone get in? The scratching became insistent. He was sure he must be hearing things. Or maybe it was Mano’s dog, Severe, scratching the wall from the outside. Mano had an energetic mix of Shih Tzu, Miniature Poodle, and Border Collie mutt of a dog. She could be a handful. Yeah, that must be it. “Stop it, Severe,” he yelled, pounding on the wall that led to the yard. Then the bathroom door burst open. The glass door of the stall was all fogged up, but sure as shit he saw it open. Now he saw paw prints appear on the glass. What the fuck? He threw open the stall door and peered out into the bathroom. There was nothing there. The bathroom door was wide open, but there was no sign of Severe, anywhere. That was odd. There had to be an explanation.