Getting Lucky (3 page)
"What plan?"
"The plan that has been in the making for over three hundred years. A plan to return magic to the earth."
That threw her. Her mouth opened and closed of its own accord. “Magic?"
"Yes. Magic."
"Please explain that one further."
"You and the women that you attended Silverwood with are the new carriers of magic into the modern world. It has taken three hundred years for a strong enough concentration to be brought together in living beings."
"Three hundred years? So how old are you?” She was rapidly losing control of the questioning but couldn't help herself.
"You won't like it."
"Try me."
"Five hundred and seventy three. My birthday is March seventh if you are interested in getting me a card.” He let her absorb the shock for a moment, then rose and offered her a cold beverage from the mini bar. At her decline, he set the can of cola on the coffee table.
Her voice was a little high to her own ears as she belted out, “Wait. If you are that old, why do you sound so normal and seem so at ease with modern times?” Her brain screamed,
hah! I got you!
Smug, she waited for his response.
He was back on the other end of the couch and they faced each other across the empty cushion. They were mirror images, each with one knee on the couch and the other foot flat on the floor. “Five years ago we began training to blend in with the modern world. In our duties as guardians it was imperative that we be able to function in any situation that you may get into."
She closed her eyes and covered them with her hands. “You mean like running from drug dealers in the wee hours of the morning with over twenty thousand dollars in my bra?” His chuckle warmed her. It was the first time she had heard him laugh and her body responded to his mirth with an out-of-scale reaction. If Westa didn't want to know more, she would jump him right now. Her hand dropped from her eyes in surprise. Where on earth did that thought come from?
"Precisely like that. As well as not attacking your pursuers, not hunting them down until they all regretted their births.” He shrugged casually. “These are all reflexes that had to be curbed so that we can pass unnoticed in modern times."
Unnoticed? That man could not go unnoticed if he were invisible. “That reminds me. How did you manage to hide from me for at least the last week? I could feel you, but never quite see you."
"Ah. That.” He closed his eyes for a moment.
Right before her very eyes, she saw her companion fade until there was only a faint blur across from her. Seconds later, he was back as though it never happened. She reached out to touch him and, when his gentle fingers slowly met hers, she acknowledged that he was solid. And warm, very warm.
"It is a peculiarity of my race that we can hide from human eyes, and despite your magic, you are still human."
"Your race? What are you, an alien?” He chuckled darkly and she had to fight the hormones that surged to the fore.
"Of course not. I am an elf.” Her hysterical laughter took three minutes to subside, after which, Henry reoffered her the can of soda.
She accepted and slowly calmed. “An elf? Really?"
"An elf. Really."
"Where are your pointy ears, the jingly shoes?” Her mind now had him making sweet little confectionary bites in a tree house. “Where are the cookies?” His scowl could have peeled paint.
"Ahem."
"Okay, so you are an elf, though you don't look like one. What about my other stalker? What is he?"
"He's an elf as well."
"He is so different from you? Are you sure?"
"Yup. Same sport, different team."
He didn't look too happy to be discussing the golden goober, but she understood what he was saying better than he could have imagined. Now she was getting somewhere. “Okay. What is the sport and what teams are you on?"
"The team of the Silverwood Society. We have been waiting for all this time to encourage magic to come back to the human world and to flourish. The Lios want the bearers of the magic to return to them and to power their works until you burn out."
"Lios?"
"The elves of light. They are the flamboyant ones who drew humans to them with glamour and discarded their lovers when they got pregnant, or simply old."
"And your affiliations are?"
"Years ago, I rode with the Wild Hunt. We travelled in the company of the dearly departed and invited humans to travel with us at every opportunity. And then we let them go.” His eyes softened as they looked to the past.
The small smile running over his lips made her want to trace the curve with her tongue. She needed a cold shower. Her mind took her down yet another path. “So my luck is a form of magic? That I will be able to control at will one day?"
"It is indeed. You simply need time and a place to practice to gain control of your particular skills. The Society has set up just such a facility."
Her eyes were still watching his mouth and the manner by which each word was formed and expressed had her blood pounding in her veins. Her tone when shrill again, “So, I am magical?"
"You are indeed."
"And I can learn to control this?"
"With effort on your part."
"Can I try it now?” She was already concentrating, working and wondering at how her talent was triggered. She wanted safety, comfort and some sleep.
A knock on the door startled them both. Henry rose and went to the door, spoke softly with the hotel concierge that Westa could see in the open door. She couldn't hear what they were talking about, but a bit of shock unfurled as Henry returned with two bellboys in tow.
"Well Westa, we have been upgraded. It seems that a businessman, who normally books this suite when he travels, has arrived unexpectedly. He is insisting on this room so we are being upgraded to the Presidential Suite."
"So why does the businessman want this room in particular?"
"He thinks it's lucky.” They both held straight faces for a moment until they burst into laughter.
The presidential suite was fantastic, all the space of a pricey apartment, with none of the personal housekeeping. As the bellboys left their clothing in the bedroom and took their leave with a diffident bow, Westa began a slow and deliberate sprint to the bedroom. A mighty,
Wooohooo!
later and she was airborne and heading for the duvet-covered king sized bed. Wallowing was the term that she had to use as she rolled from side to side, revelling in the feel of the Egyptian cotton against her arms and face.
"Are you enjoying yourself?"
"I am. I have never been in a room this nice before.” She rolled over onto her stomach and looked at Henry where he was lounging in the doorway. His skin was the golden white seen under the harvest moon, his muscles taut and ready for action. A sliver of midnight hair slipped across his eye and echoed the white trace of the scar. She had never been in a bedroom with a guy who looked this dangerous before, and he still had all his clothes on.
Be still my beating heart.
"It's acceptable, I suppose. It has a certain cold charm."
"Feh. I am not going to let you ruin my fun.” She grabbed one of the pillows and hugged it. “Well, I suppose I have to concede that my amount of luck is astronomical. This is far more than a coincidence."
"And it is far more than luck. It is true magic. In one of its most basic forms.” He sat on the edge of the bed.
It didn't give at all beneath his weight. It was truly a marvellous mattress. That one thought was enough to send her mind scampering down a most uncomfortable path.
"What else did you wish to know?” His voice was low and husky, his blue eyes glowed as he leaned toward her.
Honesty being the best policy compelled her to answer. “Nothing at the moment. Aside from how you taste."
His lips met hers softly, the touch an exchange of souls more than an arousing contact. With a smile and an impish grin, she grabbed his shirt to haul him to her. He grunted with surprise and fell on top of her. Off balance and not too concerned over it, he enjoyed the more direct contact as much as she did if is unbridled enthusiasm was any indicator. He had managed to tug her shirt out of her jeans and was working it up when a knock sounded at the door. They froze like two teenagers in a police flashlight beam.
The knock sounded again.
Whoever was requesting access was becoming more insistent. “I suppose you had better answer that, Henry. It's your room."
"The logic is unfortunate, but truthful.” He levered himself off her and watched closely as she tugged her shirt back into order. “Your hair is a little ... unruly. You may want to tame it a bit.” He walked out to the main room and answered the door.
Curious, she got up and wandered into the bathroom. She admired the brushed metal fixtures, then turned to her reflection. “Holy crap!” Unruly was a mild term. Her hair was wild. Henry's fingers had obviously danced along her scalp, leaving a wake of knots and backcombed snarls. Wincing, she began to work a comb through it, taming the most obvious of the snarls. She could hear two men speaking in the other room. When Henry's tone rose in irritation, she decided to abandon her toilette. The argument was being enacted in the centre of the room, a couch to either side of them, and she heard the fateful sentence.
"She is not for you. She was never meant for you,” Henry growled.
"That should be her choice now, shouldn't it? She needs to see us side by side to make her final decision."
It was the bastard golden goober from the poker game. He was standing across from Henry with bald confidence. Henry's face, however, lit with panic as Westa made her way into the room.
"Lucky, are you all right?"
She was shaking with rage as she headed to them. Only Henry's smooth manoeuvre blocked her from grabbing the bastard. The dark surround that she had first felt in the alley wrapped her again as Henry held her in his arms. It was magic, pure and simple magic.
"She wants me, Inlough, there is no denying it. You may as well give up.” Smug and oily, his voice laughed at her.
She scrambled against her protector, fighting to get at the jerk that had almost cost her her life.
"You cannot have her, Tamsin. She is not for you.” He echoed his earlier sentence as he tried to calm her. It took ridiculously little effort for Henry to subdue her, which made him able to converse with the other man as calmly as if they were discussing the weather.
"I beg to differ. She wants me. She could not keep her eyes off me the entire poker game.” The smug bastard moved past them and onto the couch.
Henry sighed and loosened his grip.
Westa squirmed lightly against him, but she still was going nowhere. “Dude, the only two reasons that I was looking at you during the game was that you were seated directly across from me, and you have a tremendously expressive face."
Henry began to chuckle as he caught the gist of her statement. “How much did he lose?"
Now it was her turn to be smug. “About seven thousand."
"He was that bad?"
Henry's voice hummed through her as he lowered his head until his lips brushed her ear. It brought back the flaring sensations that she had been enjoying when Tamsin knocked on the door. “No, I am that good.” She relaxed in his arms and his grip on her wrists loosened until he held both her arms in one hand.
"You certainly are, Westa.” Taunting their audience, Henry trailed his lips down her neck and used his free hand to brush her hair out of the way.
She leaned back against him and tilted her head to encourage him. Meanwhile, she tried to irritate their
guest
. “I don't believe we were formally introduced. My name is Westa Lucidine. My friends call me Lucky, but you are not my friend.” She sighed as the soft touch of lips across her shoulder made a pulse begin deep inside.
"My name is Tamsin and I am an elf of the golden court. I am here to pledge my eternal devotion to you as well as my body and magic.” He knelt in front of her and tried to take one of her hands in his own.
Unfortunately for him, Henry had freed her hands and she was now using them to grip his thighs to pull him into her as she let him have free reign of her body. “Nice to meet you. Not interested. Bye now.” She turned in Henry's embrace and locked her lips to his. They were slowly twisting together when the slamming of a door distracted them.
She broke off the kiss for a moment. “Huh, he left. We had better chain the door.” A flick of his fingers and a shadow flew to latch the door. It was the first time she had seen anything resembling real magic and she promised herself that she would make him give some more demonstrations later. Much later.
At the moment, she had more pressing concerns. The concern she was interested in was pressing against her belly right now. “Henry, we need a bed. Now.” She could hear fabric tearing and, when she felt skin under her hands, she knew that her nails were stronger than they looked.
He leaned toward her and bent her backward. She smiled against his mouth as the firm mattress supported her back. He had waltzed her in here while they were making out and she hadn't even noticed.
She felt the air on her ribs as he slid her t-shirt up to catch under her arms. A sharp tug and her bra had moved over her breasts and left them exposed to his mouth. As his lips fastened on her right nipple and he lapped at it with his tongue, her thighs shifted together and she almost unmanned him.
"You are a surprisingly dangerous woman, Westa. I think we had better divest you of your weaponry.” He carefully pulled her t-shirt over her head and folded it as he put it aside, then reached under her arched back to loosen her bra. That was slipped off her arms with no loss of life. Her jeans didn't fight him, but her sneakers did. Her shoes knotted themselves until he was forced to slip them off her heels. “I'll untie them in the morning."
As the socks flew to freedom, she was left wearing only a sensible set of cotton panties that moved off her at his touch as if coated with Teflon. Nude and a little self-conscious she moved back until seated against the padded headboard and watched his own unveiling.