The Witch's Dream - A Love Letter to Paranormal Romance (Black Swan 2) (15 page)

When the meeting broke up, Litha stopped Storm in the hallway and held out the little watercolor to him. He started to reach for it, but then pulled his hand back.

"What's this?"

"You seemed interested in it so I want you to have it."

He stared at the colorful square in her hand for a few seconds. Finally, he raised his eyes to meet hers, but didn't raise his hand to accept the gift.

"I can see myself sharing it with you," she said.

He gaped, completely incredulous at the bold and ridiculous assertion. He was also starting to wonder if she could be a little psycho. He'd heard about such things. “Anybody ever told you that you move kind of fast?”

She was undaunted. “I was home schooled. I guess I never learned the point of not saying what you mean. Seems like a senseless waste of time.”

Storm's stubborn streak was compromised by his curiosity about the witch's odd behavior. “Okay. I’m as much a fan of honesty as the next guy. Why me?”

“Why am I not being bashful about letting you know I… like you?” He said nothing. "A lot?"

"Yeah."

She studied him for a minute while she was deciding what to say. "I guess it's like an antique puzzle box where all the cylinders have to be arranged in a particular pattern before the box will open. When I saw you, all my cylinders lined up and clicked into place. I guess nobody believes in love at first sight until a stranger walks into the room one day and..." She trailed off. "What is it
you're
looking for?"

Wanting to simply put an end to the inane and pointless dialogue, Storm quipped, "Someone entertaining."

Litha considered that for a moment. "I can be entertaining."

He blinked, trying hard not to find that response just a little bit adorable. He wanted to ask how in the worst way, but forced himself to look uninterested, turn and walk away. Without the watercolor. Even though his fingers had itched to reach out and accept it.

***

CHAPTER
8

It wasn't easy to commandeer space for eleven people in a bar on a night when they were featuring live music. But with a combination of large corner snug and two tables pulled close, they managed to form a loosely structured group. The Norns were going to be trolling the bar all night anyway so there was no point in saving seats for them.

Though Aelsong had her back to the room, she kept getting the feeling that someone was staring. She finally turned to see who it was and her eyes locked on the navy blue gaze of a dark haired angel sitting across the room. He didn't look away or try to hide the fact that he'd been staring. She let her eyes wander down his body and back up again before turning back to her group.

The pub had better food than Elora had expected. Everybody had eaten well and seemed to be having a good time. Well, everybody except Litha. Storm had decided to nip the pursuit in the bud by making a big show of flirting with an array of unattached women in the bar while ignoring her. Observing this, Elora concluded that he must be very afraid of Litha's potential power over him, to engage in such un-Storm-like behavior.

Song also seemed more distracted than anything. Several times more she turned around to see what her admirer was up to. He was out with friends, raucous friends, but whenever she turned his way, he stopped what he was doing and looked back like she was the only one in the room of any importance.

Out of nowhere someone yelled, "Elves!"

The music stopped. The talking stopped.

Aelsong said, "Great Paddy. The crap has hit the wind."

Ram looked at Song and Elora and said: "Stay here," forcefully enough to let both know he meant it. As she slid out of the booth right behind him to follow and cover his back, Elora wondered who in the world he thought he was talking to.

When Ram reached the middle of the room he was facing several perturbed-looking fae, but he was also flanked by a recently cured vampire and three Black Swan knights, one of whom was a berserker and another of whom was his wife, who could destroy the building if she had cause.

He said to the crowd in general. "We do no' want trouble. We are here on official business. If our presence makes you uncomfortable, we'll be leavin'."

One of the fae staring down Ram smirked, raised his voice and said: "Hey, Duffy. The Fen is sayin' he's here on official business."

Aelsong's angel came through the crowd and stood in front of Ram. As she approached, she noticed he was as tall as her brother, which meant he was tall for a fae. She stopped beside Ram in a show of solidarity.

The angel looked down at her. "You're with him, then?"

"For all eternity. He's my brother."

The prince's mouth turned up at the edges. Then he looked at Ram. "And what is the nature of your
official
business?"

"Again, we do no' want trouble and are willin' to leave, but why should we be tellin' you our business?"

One of the challengers pointed a thumb at Song's angel. "Are you daft? You're talkin' to Prince Duff Torquil. You could be sayin' he's the last word on official."

Prince Torquil noticed that Ram showed no outward sign of being either intimidated or impressed.

Aelsong raised her chin and let her eyes wander over him again.
A dark fae
.

"'Tis no' for public consumption," Ram said.

"I see. An' is your sister privy to this intrigue?"

"Aye."

"Very well. Have her come o'er here and whisper it in my ear."

"My sister is no' chattel. I do no' tell her what to do."

At that so very public statement of confidence, Aelsong's heart swelled with pride and affection. She looked at her brother with unconditional adoration for all of two seconds before she walked to the Scotia prince purposefully and stood on tiptoe to whisper, "Black Swan," in his ear.

Duff experienced a moment of sensory overload, a little light-headedness, when Song came near enough to kiss. He couldn't decide whether to focus on her very arousing scent which would have to be called Carnal Knowledge if it could be bottled, or the warmth of her breath on his ear, or the sound of her tinkling windchimes voice, or the actual words she said. When he managed to restart his mental processes, it registered that she had mentioned The Order.

He looked down into those hypnotic Hawking blue eyes and said loud enough that everybody in the bar could hear, "The elves are in Scotia under my protection." Under his breath, quietly enough that only she could hear, he said, "Fae's gods, it can no' be."

Aelsong swallowed and looked up with wide eyes, her heart shaped mouth forming a silent "o". She started to take a step backward, but he grabbed her wrist. "What's your name?"

"Aelsong Hawking."

He looked like his future had just turned inside out and his brows drew together as he looked down at her. "Hawking?" His heart was sinking.

She backed up a couple of steps unable to look away then Duff's boisterous friends grabbed him and dragged him away.

Storm went straight back to the bar and grabbed a girl for a dance, making sure they were within Litha's vision so she could see them rubbing against each other suggestively. Litha had never felt jealousy before. She'd never cared enough about what someone else did to be emotional about their behavior. But sitting in that booth, watching Storm's hands drift further down the girl's body while she rubbed up against him made Litha grow warm with anger. The longer it went on, the hotter she got. In fact, she was so mad she was fuming and could have sworn she smelled smoke. That was when someone yelled, "Fire!"

She looked down and saw that her skirt and the booth were on fire. She quickly got herself under control and extinguished the flames on her clothing by patting them out. Not knowing that Litha wasn't in danger, Elora, who was closest to her, pulled her away from the fire thereby setting her own shirt ablaze. In a fit of quick thinking, the people in the next snug doused her with pitchers of beer which, thankfully, had so little alcohol it didn't act as fuel and turn her into a human torch. As an added bonus, it also cooled her skin so that she wouldn't burn. On the downside, she was covered in sticky, smelly beer.

The bartender, meanwhile, had grabbed a fire extinguisher from the kitchen. When the danger had passed they were standing in the middle of a mess composed of smoke, sloshed beer, white foam, and burned leather that smelled so bad patrons couldn't wait to get to the nearest exit. Elora, sensing that somehow this was Storm's fault, insisted that he get out his Platinum American Express and pay for both the damage and the owner's loss of business for the night. Storm and Elora yelled at each other for a couple of minutes before he produced the plastic and handed it over. He was seething, angry enough that he could have set the bar on fire himself. Mostly because on some level he also suspected it was his fault, although he couldn't see how.

He looked around to see if Litha was okay and if she was still watching him. She wasn't. She was leaving, but she did pause at the exit and turned around just long enough for him to see hurt in her eyes.
Son of a bitch.
He'd wanted that. Now that he had it, he hated himself for it. How fucked up was that?

Ram took off his shirt and gave it to Elora. In the Ladies' she removed the ruined blouse she'd worn, threw it in the rubbish bin and used damp paper towels to dab away some of the disgusting beer smell. She put Ram's shirt on, thanking the gods that they were only a few minutes away from her bath. Ram wore his jacket over his bare chest and they left making sure they had Song where they could see her.

When they got out of the elevator, Elora stopped Storm in the hall before he unlocked the door to his room. She didn't care that she was standing there in an oversized shirt, smelling like smoke and beer with her hair hanging down around her face.

"Storm, for gods' sakes, don't let what happened between us ruin your chances to have what I have."

Storm's shoulders tensed. After a few beats he turned and gave her a hard, this-is-none-of-your-business expression. "You're overstepping, Princess."

"I can't overstep with you, Storm. I may not be your family, but, in this world, you're mine. I'm going to see to it that you're happy if it's the last thing I do. If I have to tie you to a chair and set her on your lap."

He stared at Elora until he couldn't keep that image from softening the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah." She nodded. "That's what I thought." She started toward her own apartment, then said over her shoulder: "I'm not blind, you know. And don't call me Princess!"

Ram went straight to the bath and started filling the deep tub that just happened to be big enough for both of them with steamy hot water.

"Hey," she protested. "
I
was going to take a bath. I'm the one who smells like a burned brewery."

He dropped his jacket and leered while removing his boots and unbuttoning jeans.

"Hold your ire and kick your knickers off. I do no’ mind sharin’." He smiled at her like the cat who stole the cream. How could she protest that?

When Elora had rinsed the beer smell out of her hair she lay back against Ram, relaxing into the pleasure of his bare skin and the security of his arms.

"Elora, you're no' responsible for Storm's heart. You have no' done anythin' to feel guilty about."

"You're making too much out of it."

"If it makes you happy to play matchmaker, then ‘tis fine with me so long as I'm the one crawlin' in bed with you at the end of the day." ***

CHAPTER
9

Storm threw the keys on the table, closed his door and leaned back against it. The image of being tied to a chair while Litha sat on his lap made him hard. He figured he must finally be losing it. And who would blame him? He'd had a year of fucked up. Hell. It hadn't even been a whole year.

First, Lan was killed by a vamp and there wasn't a thing that he or Kay or Ram could do to stop it. Next Elora had literally materialized out of thin air as an unrecognizable pile of goo. When she'd recovered they learned she was an alien who had been forced into this dimension. He fell in love with her. She chose Ram and broke his heart. End of story. Boo hoo.

Did he want to be interested in a woman? No.

Was he interested in a woman? He wanted to say, "Not only no. But hell no." Problem was that might not be the truth. In his mind, he replayed the look on Litha's face when she was leaving the pub and it made him feel like he had to be the biggest bastard who ever lived. How fucked up was that?
Deep and wide.

Storm pulled on the light drawstring sweats he liked to sleep in, threw the covers back, turned off the lights, and lay down on top of the sheet. He thought about jacking off, but went to sleep before he could follow through.

In his dream he undid the drawstring on his sweats and pushed them down far enough to expose the erection that pulsed against his abdomen, begging for attention. When his hand traveled down and cupped his balls, he hissed in a breath while he tried to remember how long it had been since he'd needed release so badly. He slid his hand up to the thick width of his cock and wished it was her hand encircling him, applying just the right pressure, in just the right way.