Saved By Her Dragon (12 page)

The thought had barely made it through her mind when Devon
stopped in the doorway, looked over his shoulder with a fire
burning in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, and said
“OH, I
will
see all of you,
m’fhiorghra’
but only when you have
the strength for what comes next.”
He
winked and exited the room, leaving Anya more breathless and
aroused than before.

She soaked in the miraculous tub, enjoying the heat of the
water and the feel of the herbs working the soreness from her
muscles, invigorating her tired body. Wanting to get her hair
washed before the water cooled, she turned on the water and
attempted to situate herself under the faucet. As she shifted onto
her knees, Anya realized a second too late that the bottom of the
tub was more slippery than she thought. Her butt went one way, her
knees the other, and without warning she slid under the water with
an audible
yelp
!

Before
Anya could resurface, two large hands were pulling her from the
water as she spit and sputtered warm soapy water in a most
unladylike fashion. Embarrassment damn near overwhelmed her as she
refused to open her eyes, simply feeling around for the hand towel
she knew was on the side of the tub. Devon’s hand met hers as he
handed her the cloth and the same electric charge as before ran
through her system, landing squarely in her womb. The sound of
water pouring into the tub stopped.

After she had wiped her face, Anya sat perfectly still, eyes
squeezed shut. She prayed Devon would just leave her in peace, to
die of embarrassment. Instead, he spoke, “Are you okay,
a chumann
?”

She
heard the smile in his voice and the thought of simply sinking
under the water again bounced around her brain, but she figured he
would just fish her out, so she answered, “Yes, I’m fine.” Anya
knew she sounded like a petulant child and Devon’s bark of laughter
only served to confirm her thoughts.

“What
were you trying to do?”

She
pouted a moment longer before answering, “I wanted to wash my hair
but the tub was slippery. My top half zigged when my bottom half
zagged and well…you know the rest.”

“Are you
gonna open your eyes?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

“Please?” She could hear him trying to hold back a laugh and
bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling. She was
embarrassed…
not
flirting with the irresistible man that had once again saved
her silly ass.

“Nope.”
She worked hard to say that one word without laughing at the sheer
ridiculousness of the situation.

“Okay,
if you’re not gonna open your eyes, how about I help you wash your
hair?”

He didn’t wait for her answer, which was good, because she had
no clue what she would’ve said. The softness of a towel touched her
shoulder, causing her eyes to fly open. The cocky grin and twinkle
in his eyes told her that Devon knew
exactly
what he was doing, but in the
end, she really didn’t care. Just having him close made her feel
better, whole…complete, and quite frankly, it was worlds better
than anything she could remember, so she decided to enjoy it. The
towel he had secured to her shoulders covered her breasts,
protecting her modesty and showing her what a gentleman Devon
really was.

With his
hands on her shoulders, he carefully moved her in a semi-circle
until her back was to the faucet. Only after he had checked the
water temperature no less than four times did he speak, “Lean back
against my hand and let’s see what we can do.”

Anya let herself relax into his touch. The warmth of the
water against her scalp was heavenly, but when his fingers
f
ollowed, she sighed despite
herself.
What is it about his touch that
makes it hard to breath?
She had no clue
but never wanted it to end.
 

His voice beside her ear sounded like silk sheets felt
against bare skin as he whispered, “Is the water warm
enough?”
 

She almost forgot to answer, so caught in the web of desire
he weaved. When she did, it sounded breathy and “Fine,” was the
only response she could muster.

Far too soon, Devon was shutting off the water and helping
her return to a sitting position. He began gently massaging her
scalp with a towel, drying the excess water from her locks. If she
wasn’t careful, she could get used to all this attention and would
damn sure miss it when it was gone.

He wrapped the towel around her hair, folding it on top of
her head. “Can you get up on the ledge and get dried off? If not, I
can call one of the girls to help.”

“I’ll be fine.” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him just a
bit closer so he could see the sincerity in her eyes as she spoke,
“Thank you very much, Devon. I don’t know wh…”

He cut off her words with just the touch of his lips to hers,
lingering slightly before pulling back. It was just long enough to
make Anya’s heart race. When he looked into her eyes, she saw a
passion and excitement that matched her own. His voice was rough
and his breathing ragged as he said, “the pleasure was all
mine,
mo ghra’
.”

He stood, and from her vantage point, the effect their kiss
had on him was blatantly evident. Her eyes took a leisurely stroll
up his body. She grew breathless the longer she looked, but she
looked all the same. Every part she could see, and some she
imagined, where perfect. She made it all the way to his amazing
jawline, completely mesmerized.
Even the
man’s stubble is sexy. I wonder…
her
thoughts stopped dead in their tracks as she spotted the corner of
his oh-so-kissable lips raised in a cocky little grin that said she
was right and truly busted.

Winking, he turned to leave and reminded her, “I’ll be right
outside the door. Yell, if you need me.”

Anya lifted herself onto the edge of the tub as soon as the
door clicked shut, mentally berating herself for getting caught
looking,
no
…make
that drooling, over that damn sexy man. It only took a few moments
for her to dry off and get bundled into the plush pink robe he had
left for her. She had just wrangled her libido under control and
wanted to walk when Devon returned, but he insisted she’d had
enough exercise until she had something to eat and proceeded to
pick her up and carry her to the bed, making her temperature rise
yet again.

Almost immediately, he left, allowing Anya to get dressed and
brush through her thick, wavy hair before facing the whole crew.
When he carried her into the dining room, they all stopped what
they were doing and seemed genuinely happy to see her. Kyndel set a
plate of food in front of her while Grace filled her glass with
tea. Sydney climbed onto her lap and kissed her cheek before
telling her to try the cookies.

The rest of the day passed in a happy blur. Most importantly,
she, Kyra, and Siobhan prepared for the ritual that would return
her memories. The two very talented women taught her to make the
‘box’ in her mind that Siobhan had earlier mentioned. It was cool
to think she would be able to store her recollections instead of
being overwhelmed by them returning all at once.

About an hour before nightfall, they all gathered under the
Blackthorn tree in Siobhan’s backyard. Anya watched from her place
on a blanket Devon had prepared for her as Kyra lit the ceremonial
fire and instructed everyone to form a circle around the blaze,
enclosing both women inside. Just as they had planned, Kyra
sprinkled rosemary, sage, periwinkle, and dried blueberry – herbs
that stimulate memory–into the blaze while Siobhan recited the
Ritual of Remembrance that had been used by the ancient Elders of
her clan. The words became a part of Anya as she listened to the
Healer’s tranquil tones.

“It is the will of Anya, your child of light, to greet her
past for what it is. Together, all in attendance, we call the
spirits of the past to meet the breath of the present that the
future may bring forth life. She brings her heart and mind from the
dark of the past to the light of the future. She welcomes all that
has come to pass with open arms. We ask for your guidance from the
Heavens, the Universe, and the Goddess of All.”

The flames grew higher and burned brighter, almost touching
the leaves overhead, and then they suddenly extinguished. The
darkness of the night descended and left the group in the light of
the third quarter moon with the serenade of the frogs from the
nearby pond as background music. Anya sensed Devon just before his
hand touched her shoulder, the heat from his touch calming her
rattled nerves. Siobhan appeared before them and spoke as she
knelt, “It will take time for the memories to resurface, and when
they do, the ‘box’ in your mind will feel full, heavy even. I
suggest you not attempt to open that box on your own or
alone.”

Devon spoke first, “She won’t be alone. I have no intention
of leaving her side.”

Even in the limited light Anya saw Siobhan smile, beaming
with pride at her son’s declaration. She was a little confused by
the healer’s reaction but felt such relief she didn’t ask
questions. Siobhan touched Anya’s arm right before she stood, still
smiling from ear to ear. “It looks like you are in good hands, my
dear.”

Later, everyone gathered in the kitchen, eating cookies and
cake until Sydney announced it was bedtime. After all the goodbyes
and good nights, happily snuggled into bed, Anya fell asleep before
Devon returned from his home. She had almost suggested he just stay
there, in his own bed, but like the night before, she chickened out
and kept her mouth shut. Sleep came easily knowing he would be
there if she needed him.

Logically, Anya knew she was dreaming, but still felt herself
being sucked deeper into the dream world of her memories. The scene
came into view and a voice she had hoped to never hear again
asked,
“And who are you?”

Scared and still hurting from the bumpy ride in the back of a
windowless panel van, Anya simply stared at the tall, unshaven man
with mismatched eyes. Undeterred by her lack of communication and
with a look of concern that surprised her, he questioned, “Can you
at least tell me if you’re okay?”

She nodded and looked at her feet, unable to bear his intense
stare. He spoke to another, the one she remembered as John. His
long face and little, round glasses perched on the end of his
crooked nose would have made her smile any other time. “Was she
injured on the ride over?”

“Not that I am aware of, sir but I can have her
examined.”

“See that you do. Can you not see that she is
special…important?”

“As you wish, Master Andrew.”

Her memories continued, one right after another, until she
felt as if they were tearing her apart. One moment she was watching
them as if they were a movie, the next she was an active
participant in scenes she’d already been forced to endure in real
life. Anya summoned her strength, convincing herself that she could
make it to the end; that she could get the answers they needed to
capture Andrew and make him pay for all he had done.

However, her memories refused to be tamed and the film of her
life continued.
The sound of thunder and
the smell of ozone from a nearby lightning strike filled her
senses, making the hair at the nape of her neck stand on end. She
looked to her left and saw Bill, a man in his early twenties whose
only mistake had been walking his dog, lying dead, a look of utter
fear and pain forever etched on his face. Tears streamed down her
face for the man that had been grabbed off the street and forced to
learn a twisted breed of magic.

Unable to look away, she was left unprotected when the sick
little son of a bitch they had paired her with fired off a spell.
Anya felt the sting above her heart, several seconds before she
lost all feeing in her extremities. As she tumbled to the ground,
her last sight was of Master O’Brien running toward her, yelling.
Her only solace was that the black fog wasn’t there this
time.

“Anya, wake up! Anya, honey,
dammit
, wake up!”
She could hear Devon’s voice, just out of reach.

Fear rising in his voice, all but screaming, she could hear
him trying to coax her awake. “Anya,
mo
ghra’
, please,
please
wake up. You’re freaking me
the
fuck
out.”

She felt Devon’s arms
slide under
her body and once again found herself on his lap, still unable to
respond to his pleas. She fought hard, his fear for her wellbeing
giving her the strength she needed to finally break free from the
net of her memories. Her eyes flew open and she gasped. Devon
straightened his arms just enough to see her face and immediately
pulled her back to his chest, holding her tight. His chest rose and
fell under her cheek with a sigh of relief.

She listened to the strong, steady beat of his heart; the
continual
th-thump, th-thump,
th-thump
allowing her to shove her
memories back into the ‘box’ in her mind and close the lid. Devon
spoke words of comfort in what she remembered from her mom’s
teachings to be the language of his ancestors, his strong hands
rubbing a swirling pattern up and down her spine. She recognized a
few of the words and smiled despite herself when he called
her
his heart
.