Tales From Mysteria Falls (8 page)

“James,” she yelled, turning to the stage.

“Kris?”  He stood at the edge of the stage staring down at her.

She blinked, confused. “Where’s Cruz?”  She glanced at the screen, amazed to see the vampire lying on his back and unmoving. “How did you manage to do that?  You don’t have your powers anymore.”

“I do. Giving up my immortality didn’t zap my strength. But I can’t believe you missed my heroic moment.”  He frowned. “I nailed him with one fisted blast. He’ll awake shorty to find himself chained and on his way to justice. What are you doing down there anyway?”

“Silver kills vampires.”  At that moment a loud scrapping sound rang through the opera house. “The chandelier,” she shouted.

Jameson jumped into the orchestra pit. Looking up, they saw the chandelier come crashing down upon the stage, impaling Cruz with hundreds of silver stakes. The vampire’s body erupted into flames and he writhed in pain, unable to escape.

“Silver severely weakens, burns, and tortures vampires, but it doesn’t kill them.”  Jameson drew out his cell phone, and Krisana gathered from the conversation that paranormal authorities were on their way to get the imprisoned vampire. “Remind me to stay on your good side,” he said.

Krisana sheathed her cross. “Which of my sides would that be?”

Jameson smiled seductively and slid up behind her, placing a kiss at the nape of her neck. “I can’t remember. I guess I’m going to have to try all the positions from every angle before I can tell you.”

“I’m in the same boat,” she said, tuning to face him.

“Not sure which side is my good one?” he asked, turning his head one way and then the other.

“No,” she said. “I’m going to need multiple rides to decide which phantom is better. You or your bike.”

She expected an outraged brow. Instead he gave her a mysterious smile. “I do so love a challenge. Come with me,” he urged her to the door that led the way to their lover’s lair at the top of the spiral staircase.

S
he shivered with
anticipation everywhere. By the time they made it to the room she was burning with need. This time everything in the room was as she remembered from the past, including a very large iron bed. She turned to Jameson and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her body flush to his. “I love you, James.”

“And I love you. Always and forever, Kris-Anya. Blue eyes blazing, he kissed her deeply and took her on the phantom ride of her life.

Dorothea and the Great OZZ meet and…find a happy ending.

“W
ell, Yodo, this isn’t
Kansas
or
New York.” Sheltering her toy poodle from the drizzling mist with the edge of her cherry-red jacket, Dorothea Davenport tentatively followed the shimmering gold road leading to Dr. O. Zexton Zinclair’s residence. It was Valentine’s Day and she was on a mission. Armed in an iconic “Lady in Red” dress, she was determined she wouldn’t leave until she got what she wanted.

All of her well-thought-out plans to meet the author of
Pleasure Potions
hadn’t included rain in the scenario. So instead of looking the
femme fatale
, she was sure she resembled the drowned-rat appearance of her poodle. But she’d come too far to runaway now. A flat tire on her rented Jaguar, courtesy of a well-placed nail, and one dead cell phone for show would hopefully gain her entree into the recluse’s home. She didn’t want to make use of her bodyguard-driven limo waiting in town.

She was glad she had someone she could trust close, though. She hadn’t realized the town of Mysteria Falls would resemble an adult
Jumanji
of the unexpected. Since arriving a short time ago, she’d seen a dog twice the size of a wolf lurking at the edge of the forest, a bed and breakfast named Blood Moon, and at the Merry Mermaid’s Resort where she’d stopped to get directions, there was a lobby full of women wearing hopeful expressions and Victoria’s Secret’s best—a brothel no less.

Droplets of water dewed her skin and dampened the silk of her dress, giving her an eerie chill that stood at odds with the increasing, sultry heat. She’d noted the change in temperature the moment she’d passed through the gargoyle-studded gate. At first, she attributed the warmth to her nerves and exertion, but now she wasn’t so sure. It was February, and she was in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. She should be freezing, not dying to take off her jacket.

The further she went, the stranger her surroundings became and the warmer the air turned. She might as well be on a tropical beach at high noon. Patches of lush flowers in deep pinks and brightly colored yellows nestled amid the trees and a tangy scent of salt and sea flavored the air. Her heartbeat doubled to the click of her red stilettos as she turned a corner, and a dark, spire-ridden mansion appeared ahead.

Yodo yipped in protest, and she brushed a comforting hand through his dark, curly fur. “It’s okay, boy. If there had been anything unsavory about Dr. Zinclair, I’m sure Dr. Susan wouldn’t have mentioned him. And she wouldn’t have praised the successes he achieved in his clinic before he dropped off the face of the earth.”

Then again, Dr. Susan claimed Dorothea’s anorgasmia was a self-imposed response to her material-rich, emotionally-bankrupt life, like a patient with hysterical blindness or anxiety induced panic attacks. Deep inside, Dorothea supposedly didn’t believe herself worth loving and couldn’t accept a man’s love.

The sexual dysfunction had cost her a marriage and two other relationships. She wasn’t going to give her heart again until she conquered her inability to have an orgasm…no matter what. She was determined to find the answer before her thirtieth birthday ended, which, according to the ruby studs on her watch, gave her twelve hours to get the elixir the AMA—not the FDA—had banned and make her day.

Clutching Yodo and her red purse closer, Dorothea quickened her pace. The blending of stone, iron, and eerie gargoyles in the mansion’s facade made for a monolith filled with forbidding shadows. She didn’t slow her pace or turn and run because the cloud over her life was darker and more threatening. Somehow, she’d find a way to be a normal woman, even if it killed her.

As she neared the massive doors, the faint strands of a seductive tune vibrated in the air, indicating someone was home. Drawing a deep breath, she marched up the steps and rang the doorbell, nearly jumping from her skin when the theme music to
Jaws
surrounded her.

She swung in a circle, catching herself looking for an approaching menace of yawning teeth before stopping and sighing with self-disgust. Undeterred, she rang the bell persistently, following each ominous sound bite with a firm rap on the lion-faced brass knocker. “See, Yodo, how’s
that
for courage.”

Sweat now beaded her brow, adding to the dampness of the humid rain. The temperature near the house was like that of a steam sauna, forcing her to slip off her jacket or grow faint from the heat. Droplets of warm rain hit her bare shoulders and slid beneath the halter-top, dampening her breasts. After five attempts to rouse someone from the mansion, she decided to follow the music. Her heels sunk into the grass as she made her way around to the back. A ten-foot, solid wood fence blocked her view. Rather than call out and be ignored, she went to the gate and pushed through.

Fecund earth gave way to diamond bright sand that immediately swallowed her heels as the sight before her boggled her mind. A vast, misty playground of turquoise pools, lush vegetation, and waterfalls stretched for acres.

“Beware, beware, beware.” The squawking warning came from a large green and gold parrot perched on a nearby cushioned lounge chair big enough to pass for a bed. Yodo yipped and squirmed to be let down.

Realizing that any forward motion would be impossible in heels, Dorothea set Yodo loose and sat on the lounge-bed. She kept one eye on her poodle as he sniffed a circle around the wary parrot while she took off her heels. The two pets seemed to be sizing each other up, more curious than antagonistic, so she decided to let Yodo walk. She stuffed her jacket and heels in her bag. It was so warm, she could go naked and be comfortable.

The music played softly over some sort of surround stereo system, providing her little help in locating what she hoped would be Dr. Zinclair. As she moved down the beach, the rain turned to mist, then stopped. It wasn’t until she reached the edge of a steamy pool with Yodo close behind, that she saw him.

Naked and sun-bronzed, he stood beneath the spill of a soft waterfall less than ten feet to her left with his back to her—a scarred back. The whitened skin of many lash strokes crisscrossed his torso and whipped across her heart.

Dear God, what had happened to him? Who’d carried out such a barbaric punishment upon him and why? She clenched her fists as the urge to soothe his pain coursed through her, making her almost forget why she’d come to him. His muscular arms held onto a bar over his head. As she watched, he pulled his lean body slowly up, lowered himself, and then repeated the motion several more times while rivulets of water poured through his dark hair and down his tanned body. He moved on to another exercise, where he had to shift the bar he hung from higher and higher along an upward incline.

She stepped silently back, planning to return to the man’s porch and wait, but couldn’t quite stop watching his powerful, fluid movements. He was pure sensual magic in action.

Suddenly he dropped from the bar and plunged into the water. He came up quickly, scaring her. “What in the hell do you want?”

His snarling deep voice had more fear impact than the
Jaws
theme. The dark countenance of his sharp brow, determined nose, and square jaw were just as threatening as a live gargoyle. For the first time she wondered if maybe her desperation to know a moment’s pleasure was going to cost more than she was willing to pay.

Really?
she asked herself. Could she resign herself to an anorgasmic fate or would she rather die trying to change it?

“I need help. My name is Dorothea and this is Yodo. My car has a flat.” She spoke the lie lamely.

“Right. Dorothy and Toto. And I’m the Tin Man. You’re in the wrong place, lady. Get lost. Go back to Kansas.” He turned his back on her.

“I’m called Thea. My cell phone is dead,” she called out, feeling the bite of tears stinging her eyes. Had she really thought it would be so easy?
Can I use your phone? And by the way, aren’t you the man who wrote that book? I have this friend who really needs help. Surely, you could sell me a bottle of Nymph.
Desperation had a way of making any plan sound good. Yodo buried closer to her ankle, trying to comfort her.

“Do us both a favor, lady. Drop the pretense and just leave. I don’t have what you’re looking for.”

“Are you Dr. Zinclair?”

“Not any more. Get lost.”

Dorothea exploded. “I want an orgasm before my thirtieth birthday ends at midnight. You had a clinic. You helped women like me. Dr. Susan praised your success rate. All I want is to buy a bottle of Nymph and I’ll leave.”

He laughed, turning to face her again. “Do you really want the drug? Are you willing to take it regardless of its side effects?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her heart hammering. “Yes,” she said louder. “I can’t live this way anymore.”

His humor died. This time he strode through the water toward her, unashamedly naked. Not that he had any reason to hide anything. His assets rivaled her trust fund and appeared ready to make any deposit he wanted. She had to fight to keep her gaze aimed at his face. A feat that grew less difficult as she met his intense gaze. Long ebony lashes framed sea-green irises, creating a mesmerizing study of light and dark.

He stopped when his arousal brushed her silken covered stomach, making her gasp at the shock of sensual lightning that pierced through her. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Her purse slid from her grip and landed on the ground. She considered backing up, but didn’t. Yodo yipped, then sounded like he jumped into her purse, his favorite place to hide.

The salty air gave way to the doctor’s heady cologne, something that urged her to breathe deep and relish the flavor.

“Since we’re being so truthful here,” he said, his deep voice vibrating sensually. “There is no Nymph. It was nothing more than a concoction of brandy and peach liquor.”

Dorothea shook her head, refusing to accept his answer, or back away from him. “No. You cured women, made them whole, normal. How?”

Instead of answering, he smiled, slowly, sending another fissure of heat right to an unfamiliar, clenching core inside of her. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her tightly against his erection, pressing hotly to her damp silk. Then he ran his hands up to brush the sides of her breasts, stopping where the cut of her halter-top covered her soft skin.

Dorothea gasped as her hips automatically pressed to him.

“How?” He lifted a dark brow. “Usually counseling worked, but on rare occasions when it didn’t, my touch did. I made love to them, Dorothea.
I’m
the drug.” To prove his point, he slid his thumbs beneath her top and snaked them over her breasts.

A brief flick of his thumbs hardened her nipples to aching points of need. She gasped and shuddered. The tingling pleasure lingered long after he’d moved his hands back to her hips and stood looking at her, waiting for her to say something.

“Cure me,” she whispered, finally. Every ounce of her agonized desperation echoed in her voice. She’d come this far, and at this point in her life she was ready to try anything she hadn’t before…even sex with a charismatic stranger.

His grip on her hips tightened, but he didn’t move. He just stared at her and she saw both indecision and a shadow of pain flicker in his eyes. “What if I choose not to be used for sex? All pleasure comes at a price and someone has to pay it. There’s also no guaranty that tomorrow you won’t wake up in the same condition.”

Shamed, tears filled her eyes and she took a deep breath, edging back from him. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She’d given no thought to him, only herself.

He released her hips and she averted her gaze to stare out over the water and the falls, as she desperately tried to come to grips with her situation. “How is all this possible?”

“Mysteria Falls’ hot springs, a lot of ingenuity, and a little
magic
.” He said the last in a wry sort of tone that had her glancing back at him.

He was looking at her as if puzzled, but her pain at having to walk away into anorgasmia was too great to not try and figure out what he found so odd. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Dr. Zinclair.”

“OZZ,” he said. “I go by my initials.”

She laughed sadly. “So you’re the wizard?”

“That’s right.”

She reached for the handle of her bag where Yodo hid. “And Dorothea is going home to Kansas.”

He caught her hand. “That’s it? You’re willing to walk away from your heart’s desire after coming here?”

“I’ve no right to assuage my pain by inflicting pain on others. Besides, from the looks of your back, you’ve suffered enough. What happened?”

“A curse I’m powerless to avoid,” he said, softly, running his finger across her palm and then up her arm. “Take off your dress, Dorothy. I’ll take you to OZZ.”

She gasped from the pleasure and the tenderness in his touch. “Dorothea,” she said. “Thea.” She meant to ask him what he meant by a curse, but forgot as his hands splayed over her bare skin.

“Dorothea,” he whispered in her ear. Spreading fire with his touch, he slid his hands to the nape of her neck and pulled the tie of her halter loose. The damp silk fell away, exposing her breasts. Her nipples tightened, this time just from the intensity of his gaze as he looked at her. He moved behind her and a shiver followed the path her zipper took down her spine. When she stepped from the puddle of her red dress, she wore only her red lace thong.