“Bad boys need love too...”
Betty Hart has had it with men. Jilted in love, her life now consists of shelving books by day, watching too much Anime by night, and occasionally larping on the weekends with her fellow ‘Bleeding Heart Rebel’ nerds. Men are not welcome and very much unwanted. Especially the sexy Frenchman who saunters into her library reeking of alcohol and looking like he went one too many rounds in the ring.
Gerard Caron is in trouble. Again. Caught with his pants down (literally) he’s forced to seek asylum on Earth while his fairy godmother tries to keep Prince Charming from going all ‘Off with his head’. Maybe, messing around with the King’s daughter hadn’t been such a great idea after all, not that Gerard knew the silly redhead was a princess. But his fairy godmother knows the only way to save his life is to finally pair Gerard with his perfect mate, whether he’s willing or not.
From the moment Gerard lays eyes on the nerdy librarian he knows he must have her, but Betty is unlike any woman he’s ever known. He thought Betty would come as willingly to his bed as every other woman before her, but she is a woman who demands respect and even... horror of all horrors... love. Is it possible for a self-proclaimed Casanova to change his ways?
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Gerard’s Beauty
by
Marie Hall
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Gerard’s Beauty
Copyright Marie Hall 2012
Cover Art by Claudia McKinney of www.phatpuppyart.com Copyright October 2012
Photographer, Teresa Yeh
Model, Danny
Edited by Brent Taylor
Formatted by L.K. Campbell
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This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Marie Hall, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in the context of reviews.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the hard work of all people involved with the creation of this ebook.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Marie Hall. Unauthorized or restricted use in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patent Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2012 by Marie Hall, Honolulu, Hawaii, United States of America
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Dedication
To Iliana. Because you are perfect just the way you are...
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Acknowledgements
To Joyce and Mom, because you girls just get me
Table Of Contents
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Danika—fairy godmother extraordinaire—blazed through the night like a tiny falling star.
Damn that pompous bastard Gerard.
She shivered, holding her wand tight to her heaving bosom. Trying to think up a few more bad words for the odious man, but words failed her. He’d turned her into a laughing stock in front of her peers.
Galeta the blue—Head Mistress of Fairy Godmother Inc.—threatened to rip Danika’s title from her. From her! How dare they even insinuate that she’d lost control of her charges?
Of course Gerard’s pending trial only strengthened their allegations. The oaf. If he’d only kept his nose clean like she’d implicitly instructed. But the man was incapable of thinking with something other than the snake in his pants. She’d hoped after his last trial he’d be a little more thoughtful of whom he seduced. Last time they’d been lucky that the father had been willing to settle the debt for a few gold coins. She doubted gold would appease this situation.
Cinderella’s daughter... of all the lass’ Gerard could have beguiled, why her? Now Prince Charming was all ‘off-with-his-head’ and Danika had a serious problem on her hands.
She ground her molars so hard her jaw ached. “Relax, Danika. Must not allow yourself to get angry.” Even though she suffered a violent urge to turn Gerard into a toad, it would only prove to her peers she had lost control and unfortunately it was not a viable option. Using magic for revenge was the very thing that’d cursed Jinni to non-genie status. Danika had no desire to be striped of her powers as well.
She beat her wings faster, streaking through the trees with a furious buzz.
She had to get to Gerard first, before the angry mob could get their hands on him. Thankfully she’d sic’d the best tracker in the Kingdom on him, and just received the missive she’d been waiting weeks to get. Gerard had been found. And not a moment too soon.
For tonight the jury and tribunal convened—comprised of jilted lovers, fathers with revenge on their minds, and the three most powerful godmothers in the land—if she could get Gerard out of Kingdom, perhaps she could convince the court he’d not return unless reformed.
Perhaps... just perhaps, that would be enough to mollify the crowd and prevent a retaliatory execution.
And after her smashing success with the Hatter and his Alice. None had thought that romance possible. She’d proven them wrong, had made a true love match. In fact, the two were so in love it bordered on disgusting.
But now none of that mattered, thanks to the French baboon. If Danika had been smarter she’d have known Gerard planned to flee. He, more than the others, hated the very notion of love. After Alice and Hatter’s successful match Gerard had become withdrawn and quiet. That was so unlike the gregarious Frenchman that at first Danika had thought him jealous. What a fool she’d been to let him have his space. She’d thought nothing of his leaving, but as time progressed and he’d not returned, an awful suspicion rose in her gut.
He’d gotten himself into trouble.
By that point so much time had passed his trail had gone cold. She’d searched his favorite haunts, to no avail. Out of sheer desperation she’d questioned the flowers, as they always knew what was what, but the flowers had been less than helpful. One saw this, another that, but none could pinpoint him accurately. It seemed the moment his location was discovered, he’d hie himself off to the next pair of plump arms and ample bosom.
The man was a nitwit. Did he not see she had his best interest at heart? But maybe it was her fault for the whole Belle debacle.
To Danika’s credit making a love match was no easy feat. Still she did feel partly responsible. The night Belle had married the Beast she thought Gerard had gone as mad as the Hatter.
Gerard had gotten thick in his cups—face splotchy and red—sniveling that Belle was a tramp all along and he’d known and wouldn’t have her anyway. However the insult of her marriage was nothing compared to the greater insult he believed he’d suffered afterwards.
Forced anonymity.
Through the ages mortals had learned of the lives and roles of the Kingdom’s inhabitants through song and tale. All knew of Hook’s obsession with Pan, Wolf’s run in with Red’s grandmother—but of Gerard, well... he wasn’t even a cliff note in a text book. He simply did not exist outside of Kingdom. Ironic, since his story was easily one of the better known, but... as he’d so often done, he’d screwed the pooch (to use an oft used Earth phrase). He’d angered the wrong people and they’d exacted their revenge. Danika might have felt sorry for him if he were anyone else, but Gerard was Gerard. He angered everyone.
Spying Leonard’s lighted gardens in the distance she sighed, feeling a little more in control of herself now that she could act. Danika alighted on the empty tea table. “Wolf,” she hissed.
A shaggy black shadow pulled away from the tree. His long pink tongue lolled out the corner of his fanged jaws. Huffing, he appeared to be laughing in his dog like way.
“Did you find him then?”
The Big Bad Wolf dipped his head, and turning, trotted back to the tree he’d hidden behind earlier. A flash of white light lit the rose garden and then a tall, muscularly built man stepped out from behind the tree.
The books had it all wrong. Shifters never turned human with clothes on. They returned to human form as nude as the day they were born. His muscles, like thick ropes, flexed as he strode back out. She fanned her flushed face, entranced by his predatory loping grace, even on two feet, he walked like a beast.
My, but her boys were pretty. She cleared her throat, attempting to remember why she was here.
Eyes, the golden shade of a lion’s hue, glinted back at her. “I’ve brought him.” His throaty growl made her shiver. “He seduced a mermaid, was hiding out in her lair.” He spat, disgust evident in his tone.
“Yes, well, you know how he is. No woman can resist him. Beautiful, abhorrent man.” She pursed her lips.
He lifted a shaggy black brow. “Do you think it’s fair then, what you’ve planned? Not that I care about the bastard, but the woman.”
Ah, her wolf always did have a soft spot for the female form. Much maligned he’d been for eating Red’s grandmother, though the stories were mostly exaggerated.
“I must.” She shook her fists, her wand spurted with firework bursts of energy. “’Tis more than a mere matter of finding his mate. He’s in danger of losing his very life.”
He frowned and rubbed his stubbled jaw. “I see. Well, then. He’s behind that tree. Bound and gagged, as ordered.” He pointed to a gnarled oak.
She smirked and started toward it.
“Our bargain?” he asked quietly, a low growl undercut his words.
She bit her lip, heart speeding just a tad. Danika had kind of promised him something. The godmothers were not going to like it. She wrinkled her nose, rubbing her forehead, bit of a pickle that situation.
“Danika,” his voice grew sharper, more wolf like, less human.
“Yes, yes, bloody hell, Wolf. As I’ve promised.”
His nostrils flared, as if he were trying to scent her out. Sweating below her collar, she gripped her wand tighter. She did not lie, though perhaps she’d embellished the truth a wee tiny bit. But no need to let him know that.
Just yet.
Her grin wobbled.
His lips thinned as he finally nodded. “Aye, then. You know where to find me.”
“I do indeed.” She watched him go. “Oh my.” He was really not going to like what she’d done. But then again, neither would anyone else.
“I do what I must,” she sighed, as she rounded the oak. Being a godmother was often a thankless job. It’d only taken her two hundred and fifty years and twenty ones days (but who was counting) to stop being offended by it. Though every once in a while, it still rankled.
Like now, when her boys should be deliriously happy by the prospect of finding their match. Not like she’d asked them to chew their own leg off. Her mouth curled. Given the choice between self mutilation or marriage, she wasn’t sure which they’d choose. But she was almost 99 percent positive it wouldn’t be the girls.
Stupid men.
Case in point, Gerard,—hog-tied at the base of the tree—eyes closed, hair disheveled and filled with bits of bramble. He’d looked better. And had obviously fought like a rabid dog to escape Danika’s clutches.
Danika walked to him, the closer she got, the more overpowering the odor of alcohol became. She pinched her nose, getting woozy.
Gerard was covered in gashes and scrapes. A long cut ran under his right eye, a slight bluish tinted bruise shaded his cheek, and she was sure he’d not be able to do much more than sip liquid nourishment for the next day or two. Swollen and bloody, his lips were painful even to gaze upon.
Wolf, perhaps, had been a bit too thorough in bringing him back.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine mess this is, Gerard.” Though angry with him, her heart ached to see him like this.
He’d been jovial once. Oh, he’d always had a touch of the devil in him—no doubt—but good where it’d mattered most. Not since Belle though, and especially not since the night his legacy had been forever tainted by lies and half truths.
Danika tsked. “I should let you face their wrath, Gerard. Truly I should. No less than you deserve.” Her words were tough, but her touch was soft as she gently caressed his smooth brow. Even after all he put her through, she still loved him. Loved them all, they were her boys, and she’d fight to the death to protect them.
He snorted and then sneezed, showering her in a cloud of dust. She shuddered and stepped away from his mouth.
“Sad, pathetic man you are now.” She shook her head. He gave a soft moan, whether he understood her or not, she wasn’t sure. “Yes, I said it. Pathetic.”
“Non,” he grimaced and twitched, as if becoming aware of the bonds that held him.
She coughed and waved her hand in front of her nose. “This is horrible. Horrible!” She stomped her foot. “Gerard, she’ll be terrified of you. You look like a beggar. No. Worse. You look like a beggar who’s been waylaid in a distillery vat. If this were any other time I’d wait.”
“Bloody Wolf.” He spit a crimson streak. “Told him I’d come.”
“Yes, I’m sure you were quite the angel. Wolf completely in the wrong.” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot.
He cracked open a blood shot eye and shifted, trying to move to a sitting position. His body jerked and he groaned, laying his face back down in the dirt. “Perhaps I did attempt to cold cock him first. Bit fuzzy on that.”
“Of course you did.” She pointed her wand at his bonds, a bright pink glow wrapped around the leather hide on his wrists and ankles.
Gingerly, he sat up and rubbed his chapped wrists. Taking a deep breath, he winced. “I think the bastard broke a rib.” He felt around his waist. When she didn’t respond to his obvious ploy to baby him, he sighed. “Fine. Fine,” his deep French lilt grew heavy with exasperation. “I concede. You made your point, but you cannot bring her here with me looking like this.”
She leaned back on her heels. His shirt was shredded in several spots. One—a particularly long rip along his chest—exposed the tiny bud of a brown nipple. Blood stained his collar. But it was his pants, with the laces loosened, that told the true tale. Wolf had obviously found Gerard rutting like a mad fool. She lifted a brow, looking back at him.
He grinned and then winced when his cracked lip oozed. “I am a man, fee,” he said it unabashed, almost prideful.
Danika thinned her lips. She’d studied the girl—Betty Hart. The mortal had good insight into a person’s true psyche. A rare gift in a human (apart from a disastrous and much too recent relationship with a boyo named James) her instincts were normally spot on. Unfortunately now that she’d been burned, Betty questioned her intuition. This pairing could work, but only if both Gerard and Betty let it. Problem was convincing them of it.
“I never said I’d bring her here,” she licked her teeth, studied her nails and waited.
One second.
His face scrunched up.
She tapped her foot.
Two seconds.
His jaw dropped.
She smiled.
Three seconds. And...
“Non! No. I refuse. I will not be sent to that vile,” he ground his jaw, “Earth!”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Oh, but you will.”
Anger glittered like hellfire in the depths of his inky blue eyes. “You didn’t send Hatter.”
“He could not go. You, however...” She eyed him hard, trying to pretend her knees weren’t currently knocking. He could be quite imposing when he wanted to be. “Are another matter. You were not born of Earth therefore you can safely walk its roads.”
His nostrils flared. “You cannot make me, I will not go.”
She almost laughed at his petulant manner. “You are very wrong there, me boy. I most certainly can and will. Just this evening a tribunal’s been called.”
He stiffened and she smiled. “Oui, mon ami. You know exactly what I mean. Princess Arabella! Gerard, what were you thinking?” she screeched, finally free to vent her frustration.
Gerard scrubbed his face. “It is not what it seems. I swear, Marraine, I did not touch her. The coquine threw herself at me. I’d never force myself on a woman, much less a princess.”
“I find it hard to believe you could not tell it was her, she’s a wild mane of orange hair. ‘Tis impossible to mistake her for a commoner!” Danika threw her hands up.
Gerard shook his head. “She was in disguise, I swear it. Once I discovered who she was, I put her aside, but by that point I was found and well...” He tunneled blunt fingers through his messy hair. “I ran. I knew they’d lock me in the dungeon.”
She believed him, which made the situation all the harder. “Oh, Gerard,” she touched his chin, “your past returns to haunt you.”
“But you do believe me?” His dark blue eyes were large and earnest.
She rolled her wrist, the wand burst with pink bolts of energy. “I do.”
He sighed, his shoulders visibly relaxing.
“But, you know they will not. You’ve bedded too many of the town’s women...”
He frowned. “All willing. I don’t care what they claim now.”
“Be that as it may,” she shook her head, “you’ve angered most, if not all men folk, and now the King. You must leave. I’ll go in your stead and speak on your behalf.”
“Good. Good.”
She pursed her lips. “I hope you don’t expect this to go as smoothly as before. You only slept with the milliner’s daughter then, this is a Princess.”
“Ah,” he grabbed her by the waist and holding her like a doll, planted a quick kiss on her cheek, “you’ll do fine. You’ll show them all’s well and I’ll be free to return. Besides, I did not bed the wench. She’s as untarnished as before. Mostly.”
She growled, even while her heart pounded. He thought it would be as simple as the last time, she knew by his light hearted teasing that he did not understand the magnitude of his earnest mistake. This time Gerard had angered a King, a King bent on retribution. Galeta would respond as she’d been dying to do for decades now, he’d finally given the head godmother a legitimate reason to exact her revenge.
Danika had no clue why Galeta hated Gerard so much. He’d never shared, but knowing her mistress as she did, Danika feared the worst.
Danika would fight like the devil to see the punishment fit the crime, unfortunately she was pretty sure she’d be the only one coming to his defense.
His smile slipped. “Fee? You’re keeping something from me. What?”
“I...” Danika sucked in a breath, hating how transparent she always was. She gave him a weak grin and wiggled free of his grasp, not wanting to be accidentally crushed. Perhaps she should tell him. Just in case, prepare him for the worst possible scenario.
But in that moment he looked like the boy she remembered from his youth, eyes clear and free of guile. Beautiful face made more handsome because he wasn’t oozing sex, but being himself. If Gerard could ever learn not to depend on his looks, but to let a woman see the kindness buried so deep she wasn’t sure he even knew it still existed, he’d bend even more hearts his way.
That peek of his humanity made Danika bite her tongue. Perhaps by some miracle she could convince the court of his innocence in this. “It is nothing, Gerard.”
“Non,” he snarled, fists clenching, “I know you well, fairy, there is fear in your eyes. You tell me the truth.”
Danika held his gaze, wanting desperately to turn away and not meet the blinking fury he directed at her like a lethal blade. He said nothing, only vibrated with the strength of his mounting anger.
She knew he was not angry at her, but at his circumstances, which was the only reason why she didn’t quiver like a sapling. “Be on your best behavior, Gerard. Her name is Betty Hart. Find her, mate her. You’ll thank me.”
She swished her wand and Gerard shot to his feet. “You cannot mean to do this,” he barked, “Danika, what aren’t you telling me?” His body already began to fade into the glowing tunnel that would take him through dimensions. He looked over his shoulder.
Her heart squeezed.
“I’ll be better,” he said, “no more whoring. Drinking,” his French accent thickened. “I’ll... stop.”
The road to hell was paved with good intentions. He might mean it, but Gerard would never be able to stop. It was his way and who he was. The only thing that could possibly change him would be falling in love.
“Gerard, do not forget why this is now a necessity. You’ve placed yourself in this situation. I’m doing my very best to fix what has now become a matter of life and death.” She flew to him, briefly able to touch the corner of his jaw before he became insubstantial. “I’ll return to you once I’ve received verdict.”
“A pox on that,” were his last words before he vanished.
––––––––
“Merde!” Gerard snarled when he landed... no dumped was a better word... when he got dumped on hard stone. His body, already bloody and beaten, exploded with sharp stabs of pain on impact.
Stars danced in front of his eyes. Taking two deep breaths between his teeth, he glanced up. Blurred vision made it difficult to figure out where he was.
It took a second for the ringing in his ears to stop, when it finally did, he was slowly able to get to his feet. Grunting heavily with the effort to stay standing, he looked up.
First thing he noticed were the trees. Massive things, tall and towering to the sky, with leaves a dark shade of yellow and red. Second thing he noticed was a thick slab of gray stone leading like a trail to a building. And the third thing he noticed made him growl.
“Fils de salope,” he swore and spat by his boot. Damn that meddlesome witch. A library! He’d specifically told Danika he wanted nothing to do with readers, or smart women, stupid and pretty, that’s all he’d wanted. But of course Danika did not listen, she never did.
The muscle in his jaw ticked. He squared his hips, studying the building like he would an enemy. No way in hell he’d go there. Non!
She’d not make him. Nostrils flaring, he sat on the edge of the path and stared at a world both similar and yet alien to his own.
A cool breeze stirred branches. Squirrels scampered up long limbed trunks, cheeks bulging with their hidden treasures. Birds flew overhead and every once in a while a car would idle slowly by.
He only knew what the metallic contraptions were because while he’d never been to Earth before, he’d seen pictures of this place. A long time ago, in a pub—Skull and Crossbones, or maybe the Silver Dagger (who cared)—point was, a man had walked in with a large box full of things he’d called pictures.
The man had claimed a fairy had dumped him on Earth. Of course they’d all laughed at his wild claim. Fairies wouldn’t do that, especially not godmothers, t’was truly a heinous thought to imagine one of them dumping a charge within Earth’s mad realm.
But the man had insisted, pulling out his box and pointing to it as proof. Gerard had dug through the box, intrigued despite himself at the frozen moment in time encapsulated within the glossy paper. He’d still not fully believed, but he’d grown a fondness for the paper, for the strangeness of the place called Earth. He’d tossed the pictures of kids and men aside, but had swiped one or two—okay, ten—of the one’s with women on it. He’d studied the entire contents of the box, almost to the point of obsession, entranced by the foreign beauty of the Earthly realm. In no way did that mean he’d ever wanted to see it for himself.
He sighed. None would believe this.
Gerard rubbed his temples, brows drawn at the pain throbbing behind his skull and ribcage. “Bloody, damn fee.” He groaned. What hadn’t she told him? That more than anything else worried him and gnawed at his gut.
And why was she so insistent he find this Betty Hart? Didn’t she see he would never mate, could never be happy with one woman? Who could? Once the beauty faded what more was there?
He’d tried once, tried to open himself to the possibility of a life with just one woman. Belle. The name alone made him want to spit. Legend made her out to be a virtuous woman, in love with a beast whose heart beat golden. He snorted. More like in love with the endless supply of coin to be had in the shaggy dog’s pocket.
Though none ever believed the tale, why... because that damn book! Nothing but lies. Lies told by one very conniving godmother. The very godmother heading the tribunal for his trial. He swallowed hard. Gods his only hope was Danika’s ability to convince a crowd full of angry citizens he was harmless.
He rubbed his temple. Damn, damn, damn, that orange headed tramp might cost him dearly.
Gerard glowered as the chatter of people interrupted his thoughts. A women scowled when she spotted him, a pair of brats exited the car. She hugged them to her, her frown deepened.
Gerard shuddered. He hated kids. Squawking screaming things. Too needy by half. Then a terrifying thought struck. What did Betty look like? Good gods he hoped this was not her. His pulse hammered wildly.
The woman wore bright blue glasses. What in the devil possessed her to wear that hideous color when she also sported a frizzy mane of red hair boggled his mind. But that was not the worst of it, her shirt was stained and she wore trews one size too large. A more hideous creature he’d never seen.
Her eyes widened, studying him with the wariness of prey spotting a predator. The strange creature grabbed her brats and bustled them into the library.
He rolled his eyes. Gerard would stay out here all damn day, the night even, Danika could not make him go to her. And if that’d been her, forget it. Surely the jury would return verdict soon, they’d been quickish last time. Pay some coin, apologize profusely... blah, blah, blah, and he’d been freed. This time should be no different, he’d done nothing wrong. But dread curled like a big greasy ball in the pit of his stomach. Would Galeta believe the lying tramp had tried to seduce him, would the King?
Gerard shook his head, ignoring the sick feeling. Danika would prove it and he’d be fine.
He breathed, ignored the burning pain in his shoulder and waited. Danika might even now be coming for him.
Any time now.
––––––––
“I hate men, a curse on all of them!” Betty growled, slamming some trashy romance into its spot on the shelf and rolled her cart to the next stop.
Trisha lifted a shapely brow. “Careful. Don’t take it out on Nora.” She petted the spine of the book with a small pout. “Besides, I told you James was no good. After hmm...” she tapped her chin, “oh, I don’t know, the second date. Loser.” Her upper lip pulled back with disgust.
“Pig,” Betty joined in, “he’s a...a...” Her face scrunched up when a customer glanced up with a sharp frown.
Trisha rubbed her arm and stuck her tongue out at the man. He huffed, and waddled off to a different section of the library. “That’s right, sweetling. Total jerk off. But let’s not scare the people with our tirade’s. K?”
Betty clenched her jaw, blinking back the hot pulsing anger flowing through her gut whenever she thought about James. Even now, ten months later, she couldn’t believe what an idiot she’d been. Her friends, family, they’d all told her he was scum. Always hitting on this and that person, probably even sleeping with a few—she thought of her cousin Linda in particular, and sighed—though none would ever admit to it.
If it was just a matter of getting over him, she wasn’t sure it would be so hard. But his new girlfriend was making Betty’s life a living hell. Somehow the queen B was convinced she was trying to worm her way back into James’ life and was now harassing her any chance she got.
“That woman is driving me nuts, Trisha. Three freaking messages she left me. All detailing in graphic description what they do in bed and how I never did for him what she can and ugh...” Her nails dug into the palms of her hands. Not like they’d just broken up, which made the phone calls all the weirder.
“Ssh.” Trisha pushed the cart away and took Pride and Prejudice out of her hands, then pulled her in for a tight hug. “That woman is an idiot and in desperate need of therapy. You ask me, I bet James is up to his old tricks and inciting her jealousy because he hasn’t tossed pictures of you away or something equally idiotic. That man always did want what he couldn’t have.”
Betty’s lips twitched and she shook her head. “Well he’s not getting me back. I can’t stand him. I hate him. I hate her.” She trembled. “I can barely sleep, some nights I got calls back to back. And when I tell the cops all they say is she’s not a danger to me and there’s not a darn thing they can do about it. Men suck.”
Trisha’s green eyes were soft. “Oh, honey, he’s so not worth it and I wish you wouldn’t judge every man based off one bad seed.” She gave Betty’s upper arm a gentle squeeze. “But the cops are right. Gretchen’s not a killer, just jealous. She knows she can’t hold a candle to you and it’s burning her up inside.”
Betty chuckled. “You’re right. I’m not fearing for my life or anything, it’s just... I want to move on.”
“There you go,” Trisha’s voice brightened. “Who knows, maybe Mr. Right is just around the corner. True love, le sigh.” Trisha clapped her hands together dramatically.
“Oh yeah, true love my butt.” Betty rolled her eyes. “Says the girl who can’t hold down a relationship for longer than the next release of the newest Coach purse.”
“Hey, do not mock the Coach.” Trisha wagged a finger. “Those bags are to die for. Besides,” she shrugged, “it’s not like I don’t want a permanent man, but I’m picky. Until I find him, I’m very happy to flirt.” She winked. “Makes life worth living.”
Betty grabbed another book and took a deep breath. “Yeah well, I’m so over guys.”
Trisha’s green eyes sparkled as she grabbed a book from the cart. “Mmm. You’ll change your mind.”
“I doubt it.” Betty’s lips thinned. Men were dogs. She’d seen enough in her twenty six years to know it was total fact. They had sex on the brain and little else.
“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice interrupted her thoughts. Betty turned to see a redhead standing with two boys pressed to her legs.
“Yes?” Betty asked.
“I just thought I should tell you, there’s some guy sitting outside. He looks like he’s gotten into a fight and he totally gives me the willies. You should probably call the cops or something.”
Betty glanced at Trisha, heart sinking as their eyes met. It wasn’t often they got complaints like this, but she never liked dealing with them.
“Trisha, can you?”
Trisha sighed. “Fine, I’ll deal with the perv. Finish racking and stacking.” She glanced at her watch. “Wanna get out of here by five. Got places to be.”
Betty snorted. “You mean losers to see.”
“Hey,” Trisha tapped her chest, her red nails standing out bold against the crisp white of her top, “you know how it goes, one woman’s trash...”
“Yeah, whatever.” Betty turned around and got back to work.
Betty was halfway done when Trisha finally returned, but she was acting weird, glancing over her shoulder every five seconds with a big, goofy grin on her face. Trisha’s low pitch giggle was so unlike her that Betty’s brows dipped. “What in the world is wrong with you?”
Trisha fanned her flushed face as she pointed to the library sitting area. “Him. That. Boy is he a tall glass of water. And his voice,” she sighed, “made me have a mini-orgasm.”
“Ewww, Trish.” Betty slapped her arm, but couldn’t resist taking a peek. Trisha rarely lost her composure over a man that way.
And though she was hating men at the moment, that didn’t mean Betty was blind. Hot was hot and she liked to look. She was surprised when all she saw was a man, scowling face all covered in scratches, staring at the kids bookshelf in front of him with the look of a man intending to do it bodily harm.
“Him?” She pointed.
Trisha licked her lips and nodded. “The voice, Betty.” She grabbed her arms and shook. “He iz, how do you say,” Trisha said in her best Lauren Bacall growl, “zee French.” She smirked and Betty was pretty sure her friend had lost it. She’d finally cracked under the strain of late returns and the stress of cataloguing.
Betty looked back at him. Sure he was big. He shifted, his thick muscular thighs obvious behind the thin scrap of brown fabric. What in the world was he wearing anyway?
The cream shirt with the laces in front and black Santa Claus looking boots, jeez, he looked like some stupid pirate right off the pages of a Halloween Emporium magazine.
Looking beyond the stupid clothes, and the multitude of scratches and bloody lip, he was kind of okay looking.
Square jawed with a light dusting of hair. Her pulse thumped. She always did have a thing for the five o’clock shadow.
“Look at his hair,” Trisha sighed.
Sighed?
Really?
Wow, Trisha had it bad.
Betty’s gaze went back to him, Trisha was right though, his hair was... for lack of a better word, beautiful. All thick and wavy and brown, like a dark roasted chestnut and her fingers twitched.
As if sensing her stare he looked up.
His eyes narrowed and she stopped moving, stopped breathing. From her vantage point his eyes looked deep black. But instead of them being lifeless and flat like a shark’s, they gleamed like oil in moonlight.
Her heart beat hard and her mouth went dry. Then he lifted a brow and reclined, reminding her of a loping panther the way his massive body relaxed on the chair. One large leg sprawled out, skin peeking out from behind his ripped shirt. The words power and grace popped into her head. His lips curved into a slow liquid grin and it was like getting smacked in the face.
She bristled. James had done the same thing. Thinking he was God’s gift to all womankind. The bastard. She rolled her eyes and purposefully turned her back on him.
Trisha clapped her hands. “Hot, right?”
“Whatever,” Betty huffed, “he’s got womanizer written all over him. You can have him.” She went back to work, shoving the books in with force.
Trisha sighed. “Can’t. Date tonight. Too bad.”
“Besides,” Betty continued, irritated at herself because all she wanted to do was turn back around and look, “he’s clearly violent. He’s been in a fight and why haven’t you called the cops, anyway?” She rounded on Trisha with a snarl.
Trisha’s eyes widened and she held up her hands. “Whoa there, little lady. Slow your role. I didn’t call the cops, because he’s not a threat. He said he’s waiting for his ride to come get him.”
Betty rubbed her nose. It wasn’t Trisha’s fault, she knew that. It was just aggravating that even after the nightmare that was James she found herself turned on by a red hot mess. She sighed. “I’m sorry. Not your fault.”
Trisha’s lips thinned as she nodded.
“It’s just, he’s all beat up and,” she sniffed, “I smell alcohol, even here. He’s been in a bar fight, Trisha.”
“Yeah, so? Small town, it happens.” Trisha’s eyes were wide.
Betty tapped the spine of a book. “The closest bar is twenty miles down the road, thataway,” she pointed over her shoulder, “and secondly, drunks don’t make it a habit of raiding the library afterwards.”
Trisha rolled her eyes. “You worry too much. Look, I’m sure his friend is coming.” She punched Betty’s arm playfully. “Besides, it’s not like he’s here to rob us. Right? No cash.” Shaking her head, she walked back to the front desk, laughing as she went.
Betty frowned and eyed the stranger hard. Trisha was right. Lebanon, Missouri was many things... big, it was not. Not like she’d know everyone in town, but she’d have noticed him.
His eyes blinked, his hard gaze never turned from her face.
“I’ve got my eye on you,” she muttered low enough that there was no way he should have heard it five bookshelves down.
He chuckled and Betty’s spine went rigid as her legs grew soft.
Stupid men.
––––––––
Gerard moaned as sunlight pierced his closed eyelids. He couldn’t stop the groan of pain spilling from cracked lips as he rolled off the hard bench. It’d been his bed for the night. He’d expected Danika to return before the night was through. Earth hours were much shorter though than Kingdom ones and he probably shouldn’t be worried, but knowing that didn’t stop the uneasy knot from forming in his gut.
The sounds of chirping birds set his teeth on edge. He grabbed a rock by his foot and chucked it into the large oak full of nesting birds, they scattered with a loud squawk. Black tail feathers drifted lazily on the breeze behind them.
“Bloody, damn fee,” he muttered and grabbed his lower back. Gods what he wouldn’t give for a toothbrush and some rum.
“Oh, heck no.”
He scrubbed his whiskered jaw, the sound of a woman’s sharp tongue grated on his nerve sensitive skull. Gerard turned, only to stare into a pair of fine brown eyes. Very angry, fine brown eyes.
The fille had her arms crossed, her black hair was pulled high into a severe pony tail. She was a tall one, and nicely curved. He couldn’t stop his grin when he gaze landed on a perfectly rounded pair of breasts. Too bad it was covered up by such an ugly red top.
“Hey,” she snapped her fingers, “my eyes are up here, jerk.”
Feisty. He looked that too. “Exscuze-moi, Madame. But you’ve a lovely pair of breasts, can you blame a man for looking?”
“I...you—” A faint red blush stole up her swan like neck and settled in her cheeks.
“Mmm,” he trailed his finger up her neck, “such a lovely thing.”
She slapped his hand away. “You’re a pig.” She stomped her slippered foot and marched around him, heading to the door with the key in her hand. “If you don’t get the heck out of here, I’m calling the cops. In fact,” she turned swiftly on her heels—Medusa couldn’t have been more frightening in that moment. Her black hair snapped behind her head like charmed snakes. “In fact... I’ve already called them.” Her fingers shook as she yanked on her purse strap and pulled out a small black object, waving it at him.
Gerard leaned back on the bench, crossed his booted heels, and enjoyed the sight of a woman bluffing.
“Yeah, I called when I pulled up. I saw you.” Her lips pressed into a tight line and then she shooed him. “Now, go. Go before they get here.”
“Liar,” he drawled.
Her entire body went stiff as a board, and then her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. She flipped the device open. A glowing screen hooked his attention. What the devil was that thing? Did she think to scare him off with it?
Gerard bit his tongue to keep from laughing. He pushed off the bench and lazily walked up to her.
She pushed her hand further out, shaking the thing as if it were a weapon. “Get back. I told Trisha you were dangerous. Where’s your car ride? Huh? You were supposed to be gone.”
He licked his lips, stopping only when he felt the heat of her body invade his own. Gerard had spent a chilly night out in the open, he’d had no food for two days, and he was royally pissed at the fairy for dropping him off in this godforsaken place. But he couldn’t deny he enjoyed bantering with a beautiful woman, no matter where she hailed from.
“I noticed you yesterday.”
She trembled, he knew his words affected her. Could see it in the tightening of her lips and her heavy breathing, but even so she pushed her tiny palm against his muscled chest and urged him back. She’d not make this easy.
A good tumble—that would help ease the past night’s humiliation. She was not the first damsel to pretend she did not want him.
He licked his lips and she went still. The morning was cool, crisp with the rich scent of pine and autumn leaves and now her. She smelled of flowers. Gerard touched the shell of her ear. Such a tiny exquisitely shaped thing. A diamond glinted from her lobe.
“Such a lovely creature,” he moaned, his body reacting instinctively to the soft touch of feminine flesh. Already he could picture sliding her panties off with his teeth, exposing the treasure within.
Her lashes fluttered. “What... is my name?” she whispered and he laughed.
Women... always wanting to be cosseted and praised first. He grinned, nuzzling the edge of her ear, inhaling the sweat scent of soap and flowery perfume.
“Mon petite chou,” his voice was thick with want. Gods, were his thighs trembling? He’d not ached for a woman like this in years.
He’d had beautiful women aplenty, one, two... sometimes three at a time. Gerard was not picky. But rarely did they make him weak in the knees like a lad seeing naked female flesh for the first time. He wrapped his big hands around her elegantly shaped waist and yanked her into him.
She fitted—her every contour molding to his as if she’d been expressly made for him. He growled when she let out a tiny whimper. His cock so hard he thought he might explode from the pressure.
The woman mumbled something, but it was all nonsense in his muddled brain. The touch of her skin against the heated press of his lips was so soft, so yielding. He shivered, the intensity of his desire making him clumsy as he tugged at her shirt.
“Mmm, I’ll make you weep, my beauty,” he murmured, her flowery scent making him dizzy.
Her fingers slipped through his curls and he grinned as she lightly scratched his scalp. She liked it rough. So did he. Gerard fingered the bottom button of her shirt. Too much clothes, why did women always insist on covering so much?
But what had at first been gentle sex play, was now more than rough. It was pain. She wasn’t simply scratching, she was clawing, gouging groves into his skin.
“Ow, damn!” He released her and grabbed the back of his head.
Those pretty lips were fixed in a permanent scowl. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
He rubbed his tender head. “What? Do you not find me attractive? I felt your body tremble.”
Her eyes bugged. “First off, my name’s not cabbage.”
Gerard lifted a brow.
She laughed. “Oh yeah, jerk off, spent a year in Paris, I know what that mon petit chou,” she mimicked his voice in singsong, “means. It’s a lame, standard pet name. Everyone uses it. Especially when,” she stabbed her finger in his chest, “they don’t know the person’s name, you bastard. Just who do you think I am? A slut?”
“Well...”
She glowered and he swallowed the yes on his tongue. Admitting that wasn’t the best way to get laid. Gerard racked his brain. When was the last time a woman had rebuffed him? None, except for Belle.
His jaw clenched.
“Secondly, your breath stinks. Get a breath mint. Seriously.” She rolled her eyes. “Seducing me at eight o’clock in the morning. Gah, you’re so lame. Get the heck out of here, before I really do call the cops!” And with that she turned on her heels, marched to the door, and disappeared inside the library. The word made him want to gag.
Gerard balled his fists and bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Bloody hell, fee. Get me out of here!”
But she did not answer and she did not come.
––––––––
“It’s raining.” Trisha pouted blood red lips and glanced back out the library window.
“So?” Betty set her jaw and stamped an overdue notice on yet another envelope.
Trisha sighed. “Sweets, he’s harmless.”
“How the heck do you know that? He accosted me today—”
“Okay, first of all,” Trisha flipped a book into her library cart and held up her hand, “he’s been sitting out there all day.”
Betty deliberately turned her back on the window. She wouldn’t deny he looked pathetically miserable out there, sitting on the stoop, his large body shivering in the cold Missouri rain. And that maybe, just maybe, she was starting to feel kind of sorry for him. Or that his kiss had made her toes curl and that only by sheer force of will had she been able to push him off her. That she’d lied when she said his breath had stunk, the truth was he’d tasted of a fine aged brandy—how that was possible, she had no clue. A French thing? And that even though his clothes were in tatters she’d never seen a hotter guy in her life. The shadow of his beard playing against her sensitive skin—her stomach flopped just thinking about it.
Even bloody and bruised he’d moved that huge body with a skill unrivaled by any lover she’d ever known. Not like she’d had many, James had only been her second. But still. With just one touch he’d made her skin tingle and with a glance her blood hot, hot, hot. And the bulge in his pants... mmm, oh yes, she’d felt that too. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to look back. Knowing if she did she’d forget why she shouldn’t care.
The man was dangerous. If James had been dynamite, that man was a nuclear bomb. He was a player with a capital P. Something Betty could not afford to forget.
“Secondly,” Trisha continued, ticking off another finger, “who the hell speaks like that? Accosted? Seriously,” her green eyes twinkled, “and you say I read too many bodice rippers.”
“Whatever, Trisha. I’m going home.” Betty kept glancing at the clock, seemed like the more she looked, the slower it went. She’d eyed the clock with an obsessive nature today, desperate to get away. Not from the library, but from him.
Betty had fixated over sorting, organizing the next week’s activities. In short, she was all caught up with work and still had another ten minutes to go. “At seven, I’m clocking out.”
There hadn’t even been more than three customers today.
“Methinks the woman doth protest too much,” Trisha laughed.
“What?” Betty planted her hands on her hips, feeling the tingling start of a headache burn behind her eyes.
Trisha stepped out from behind the counter, flipped the closed sign on the door and smiled. Her brown and green Sunday dress made her look young and innocent. Gorgeous, exposing her perfectly shaped calves and Betty couldn’t stop wondering what he’d think if he saw her.
Had he seen her? Had he tried to hit on Trisha too? She frowned, not liking that thought one bit. Worst part of it was she didn’t even know his name. Hottie McHoster? “Ugh,” she moaned.
Trisha grabbed her shoulders. “Look, he’s been here two days.”
“So why haven’t you called the cops yet?” Betty asked.
Trisha’s lips quirked. “Why haven’t you?”
Betty rubbed her nose. Not like she hadn’t threatened it, many times. So why hadn’t she?
Trisha looked over her shoulder and sighed. “He’s not on private property.”
Betty shook her head and stepped away from Trish to go grab her purse and rain coat. “He’s loitering. Probably homeless.”
She was shrugging on her jacket when Trisha flipped the lights off. “Nope,” she said, “not. Have you seen his teeth? Too clean.”
When had Trisha seen his teeth? Betty huffed, she so didn’t care and if she kept telling herself that, maybe she’d eventually believe it.
“But he’s obviously not from here. French accent, crazy clothes... I’ve got it!” Trisha snapped her fingers, her grin huge. “He’s been shanghaied.”
Betty laughed, grabbed her tube of pearl pink lip gloss and refused to analyze why she was primping when she was getting ready to run through rain. “And dropped in the middle of a landlocked state. Makes perfect sense, Trish.”
Trisha snorted. “S’all I got. But whatever he is, or wherever he’s from, he needs help.”
A man dressed in jeans and a gray sweater knocked on the glass. He smiled and waved, exposing a big dimple in his left cheek. Betty jerked her thumb at him. “One of yours?”
Trisha sighed and buttoned up her lime green pea coat. “Young and dumb, just how I like ‘em.” She winked and blew an air kiss at him. “Look,” she turned back toward Betty, “I know men, trust me, he’s a cad. But he’s not dangerous. At least take him to a hospital before he croaks on us.”
Betty shook her head. “I’m not driving that man anywhere. Not alone.”
The guy knocked harder.
“Really?” Betty turned and scowled at him. He jerked as if slapped and pointed to his watch.
“Yes. Yes.” Trisha waved him off and fluffed her hair, applying a quick coat of mascara. “Waterproof, gotta love it.” She winked. “Anyway, he needs a doctor. Call Kelly, he’ll come.”
“Can’t,” Betty shook her head, “he just finished a forty-eight hour rotation at the clinic. He’s sleeps harder than the dead.”
“Trishelle,” the guy’s voice blared through the doors, “movies. Gonna be late.”
Trisha smirked and rolled her eyes, ignoring him. “Call a million times, that’s what big brothers are for, to come to their baby sister’s aid,” she grabbed Betty’s hand, “just please... don’t call the cops. At least give him his dignity.”
Betty bit her bottom lip. Her heart raced at the thought of letting that guy in her car—that big powerful body cramped into her small sedan. Breathing the same air.
She gulped.
“He’s just a harmless bastard sitting in the rain.” Trisha tapped Betty’s chin. “Have mercy on him. You know where the shelter’s at right?”
Betty lifted a brow. “You know I do. Do you?”
Trisha giggled. “Nope. That’s why you’re the perfect person to go drop him off!” With a wink and a wave, Trisha joined her impatient date. Betty licked her lips.
All day she’d pretended he wasn’t out there, and it was easy to do with work to be done. But now she was going to walk past him and there would be no ignoring him then.
Then don’t look, can’t miss what ya don’t see—her grandma Nani’s sage words suddenly sprang to mind. Advice she’d given Betty the night she’d wept on her fragile shoulder’s about James dumping her and spotting him shopping for groceries at her grocery store. The last bit of advice her grandmother had given her, she’d died in her sleep two nights later. Betty sighed.
“Yeah. Won’t look. Totally.” She gripped the strap of her purse like a shield and exited the library, locking the door behind her.
The blast of chilly air up her jacket broke her out in a wash of goose bumps. This morning it’d been sunny without a cloud in the sky. Now, the weather was downright nasty. The unofficial slogan of Missouri: Wait around long enough, it’ll change. And boy had it, it now felt like ten degrees shy of freezing.
Her skin tingled, but not from the cold. He was looking at her. She felt the heated press of his eyes like a hot brand.
“Don’t look.” She kept her eyes down and her head low as she ran down the sidewalk, rain smacked her in the face like tiny needles and she winced. This was a miserable night to be out. Where would he sleep this time?
Betty bit her lip and all her plans went to pot when she glanced over her shoulder. He wasn’t looking at her as she’d expected, instead, he was looking at the old tree and wearing the fiercest scowl she’d ever seen.
He had his arms wrapped around his body and jeez... she just couldn’t do it. She’d never treat a homeless person this way, she wouldn’t do it with him either.
Betty marched back to him, stopping only when she got to the bench. This was so dumb. What if he was a deranged lunatic? People didn’t just sit outside for two days, sleep on a park bench overnight even—without some serious issues.
“What?” he growled, turning his frosty glare on her. “Come to crow some more?”
Her lips tipped and she held her purse over her head, trying to ward off the rain—but it was useless, rain ran down the back of her neck and under her jacket. She shivered. “Look, you shouldn’t be out here tonight. Don’t you have some place to go? Somebody to stay with?”
And though his bottom lip was still healing, and looked angry and swollen where it’d been busted, he still had the most sensual lips she’d ever seen. Her stomach fluttered remembering the feel of them this morning.
Betty glanced at the dark green sky. This was tornado country, it wasn’t unheard of to have twisters come down unexpectedly and wreak havoc out of the seeming blue.
That’s when she heard it—the soft ping of hail hitting asphalt. She winced. They had seconds before they started getting pelted too.
“Dammit,” she grabbed his hand and tugged, “come on!”
She knew he could shake her off if he wanted to, but he didn’t. It was a two hundred yard sprint to her car and by the time they’d made it to her beat up Toyota, she’d already been waylaid by four golf ball sized chunks of ice.
“Enfer,” he growled, “what type of sorcery is this? Ice from the sky?”
Betty heard his mutters, wondered at the strangeness of it, and just as quickly dismissed it. The man was nuts and she needed to get him away from here and away from her. The sooner the better. She shoved her key in the lock, wishing yet again for the funds to buy a car with an automatic unlock button and swung her door open just as another cold stone bit into her cheek.
She muttered as she reached over to unlock his side.
His big frame took up all the passenger space and then some. His knees pressed tight to the dash and his arms were bent at the shoulders, large hands in his lap. He looked like a sardine in a tin can, but a sardine had never looked so sexy.
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. It bubbled up from her belly and spilled from her mouth. At first he scowled harder, which of course, only made her laugh harder.
Then his lips twitched. “This is ah... comfortable?”
She snorted and grabbed a napkin out of her purse to mop up some of the wetness dripping from the tips of her bangs. “You look—” She shook her head. “It’s all your fault.”
The stern lines framed his eyes again.
“Who told you to get so big anyway?” she teased.
Once he seemed to realize she wasn’t mocking him, he visibly relaxed and the sexy as sin grin tipped the corners of his mouth, killing her laughter instantly.
Gorgeous. So gorgeous. Heat settled in her cheeks, and she shifted on her wet car seat, trying to ignore the sudden heat slithering down her belly through her thighs.
Betty distracted herself by glancing in the rearview mirror, pretending to dry off, to try and forget her reckless attraction to the man.
But it was useless, and so was drying off. She needed to get home and change. She tossed the crumpled napkin onto the dash and cranked the car. Blasting the air to heat, she sighed as the warmth penetrated through her chilly skin.
They drove in silence. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but he was looking out the window with a grim set to his stubbled jaw.
Betty licked her lips. Wanting to hear some sort of sound, she clicked on her stereo and groaned when the childish blare of “I love you. You love me...” crackled through her speakers.
He curled his nose, his eyes wide with horror, and she giggled. “Umm... oops, Briley’s tape. Forgot he left that here.” She popped the cassette tape out and switched it to FM. Some song about ‘I want to rock your body all night long’ came on and she sighed. Not much better. She turned the volume down until it was nothing but background noise.
Betty drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, easing through the empty Lebanon streets, headed toward her brother’s house. He might not wake up for a phone call, but he’d wake up if she pounded on the door.
“Who’s Briley?” McHotster asked, his voice low and growly.
A crime how sexy that was, and how much she wished she could hear it in the morning. She shook the silly thought aside, shifting gears to slow down for the red light.
She looked at him, he was looking back out the window. “He’s my nephew.” She smiled. “He’s going to be eleven next week.”
He didn’t say anything. Betty bit her lip, tasting the strawberry sweetness of her lip gloss.
“I wouldn’t have been caught dead listening to such infantile music at that age,” he mumbled and she bristled. He didn’t know, and that was the only thing that stayed her tongue.
She counted to ten before she trusted herself to speak. “I don’t even know your name.”
He looked back at her, his eyes wary. “And that’s a problem because?”
Her eyes widened and she gripped the wheel until her knuckles whitened, but she was proud her voice did not betray her shock at his blunt way. She turned left, heading down the tiny two lane country road toward her brother’s one bedroom farm house. Trees, appearing like black specters in the moonlight, framed either side of the road. The rain had trickled down to a fine mist and it felt like driving through a fairy tale. The teal and navy blue sky twinkled with starlight, the full moon filled the sky like a giant golden orb.
Her heart sped with the driving thought that this was a great place to be abducted and raped. Fear turned her words sharp.
“Look, I’m trying to be a good Samaritan here. I could have just called the cops, but I didn’t. You’ve been loitering on our grounds, scaring away the customers and I just want to know the name of the man who—” Betty gasped, and then paused, realizing her near mistake. What she’d almost said, almost admitted.
The tilt of his head and narrowing of his eyes spoke volumes. She scrunched down on the seat, stepping harder on the gas.
“Who what?” His accent went supersonic gravelly and her nipples hardened. Betty felt like one of Pavlov’s dogs—ring a bell and it’s time for food—except in this case it was hear that deep French burr and her body tingled with a hot rush of sexual arousal. Gah, she’d never been so turned on by the sound of a man’s voice before.
He shifted his muscular frame and she hated how aware of him she was. His clothes were still the same horrible things from the day before, ripped, tattered, and sexy as hell. She bit her tongue and his eyes danced with light.
“Turned you on,” he said, his finger trailed feather light along the back of her hand and she jerked the wheel hard to the left, the tires squealed as she pulled to the side of the road. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
Perfectly shaped teeth bit his perfectly shaped lips and...
“I could smack you!” Betty parked her car and flicked his hand off. “Do you always have to get so... so, grabby? Ugh!” She wrapped her arms around herself.
Cocky arrogance touched his face and she gnashed her teeth. Had she learned nothing from James?
“Don’t tell me you don’t like my touch, femme vipere. I tasted the sweetness of your surrender, you lie to say you do not.”
Angry, ashamed, she panted for breath as her nails dug into her palms. “One, don’t call me a viper. So not the way to get on my good side. Two—”
He raised his brow, seeming more amused by her than offended. She trembled, but she wasn’t exactly sure it was just from rage because he was leaning in again. Absorbing all the oxygen in her bubble, the heat of his body snapped across her skin with the shock of static.
“T... two,” she stuttered and he pushed his finger against her lips.
“Has anyone ever told you, you’ve the voice of a harpy—” Betty sucked in a sharp breath, “but the lips of a succulent sweet fruit?” He said the last with his lips feathering across hers and she was going to slap him.
Any second now.
“I... I.” Was all she got out when his lips pressed hard and firm and with a desperate moan she opened her mouth, hating him, herself, and all of mankind.
His large hands framed her face, so gentle and warm while his mouth plundered hers. His tongue swept in and she tasted him and how he tasted of brandy and cherry pipe smoke, she’d never know and at the moment, could give a rat’s patootie. All she knew was she wanted more.
Betty nipped at his lip and though he hissed, he didn’t pull back and neither did she. What was he doing to her? She wrapped her hands around the back of his head, twining his thick wet hair around her fingers. Now he was running his big hand down her arm and somehow, he’d unbuttoned her jacket and was now stroking the front of shirt. Touching her, molding his fingers around her heavy breasts and she flexed her body, opening up to him.
A sound like a whimper rang in her ears. She struggled to pinpoint where it came from only to start with a jerk when his fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt. His touch burned a path straight to her aching core.
There went that whimper again and this time she was startled to realize it was coming from her. She pushed against his chest, his muscle slid beneath her palm and it was a little bit of torture to push him away.
She squeezed her eyes shut, leaning her forehead against his as she struggled for breath. “You can’t keep doing that.”
“Gerard.” He said simply and sat back.
“Do what?” Betty looked at him. His hair poked up where she’d twirled it. He scrubbed a fist down his face.
“My name. It’s Gerard.” He didn’t breath heavy, his face was calm, and without the slightest hint that he suffered the same internal turmoil she did. He’d rocked her world, she might as well have been a weed in his garden for all that he noticed her.
She licked her lips, still tasting him. “No last name?”
He growled, shoving his fingers like forks through his messy hair. And though he still bore bruises and looked frightening as hell when he scowled, Betty knew James had nothing on Gerard. This man was a woman’s wet dream made manifest.
“I’m not asking for your hand, Madam. Why do you insist on knowing me?”
Aaand now she could think again. “Wow, you really are a jerk. Oh no wait,” she tapped her jaw, “you’re a misogynistic jerk. Twice now you’ve shoved your tongue down my throat...”
Gerard snorted. “You’re not the one who bares the love marks.” He patted the back of his head. “I’d say you were shoving that delicious tongue of yours down my throat as much or more.” He sat back, and though cramped, he still managed to look like a king relaxing on his throne.
Anytime Betty got mad as a kid, her dad would always tease and say, ‘watch that one percent, Betty, its explosive’. One percent meaning the negligible drop of Panamanian blood flowing through her veins, that hot Latin temper that could spark a flame with just one word. Normally, she could breathe through it, but not tonight, not with him.
“Fine, you wanna play that game, fine. Yes, I think you’re hot. Beyond hot. You’re every girl’s wet fantasy come true.”
His smile grew wider and she could just see that already enormous ego inflating.
“You’re also a pig...”
He frowned.
“A stranger, and if it wasn’t for the fact that my mom raised me to help those less fortunate than myself, I’d have left your sorry ass back there.”
“Ah.” He flicked his wrist in a gesture of dismissal. “Leave me, take me, I don’t give a damn. I’ll be gone soon and then I won’t have to worry about you, this world, or any other damn stupid, meddlesome, conniving...”
She froze, latching onto one thing. “What do you mean this world?” Betty had seen first-hand the effects of suicide on a family. Was that why he’d been sitting out there for two nights? Contemplating his end? He didn’t seem the type, but then again, neither had Trisha’s sister. Sometimes you could never tell.
He shrugged. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Betty eyed the beefy Frenchman. Not able to understand one bit her burgeoning obsession with the man. “Try me,” she dared him with lifted brow.
“Non.” Gerard went back to staring out the window and though she didn’t know him from Adam, she was pretty sure if he said ‘non’ than it was no. “Leave me, or let us go. I care not,” he muttered. That more than anything proved his non-dangerous status.
Weird, yes. Hot, without a doubt. A knife wielding psycho—probably not.
Suddenly it seemed pointless to drive out to her brother’s. He’d be dead to the world, exhausted from his long shift, and not a little ticked off with her for bringing a big burly man to his doorstep just to dump him off so she could appease her conscious. Not to mention the fact that she suddenly felt an inexplicable urge to keep Gerard by her side.
He was probably spouting off nonsense, with no intention of killing himself, but she’d always promised herself that if she should ever be able to help someone contemplating suicide, she’d do it.
With a long sigh, suddenly exhausted and more than ready for a long, hot soak, she started her engine and turned the car back toward town.
She expected him to ask where she was headed. But he didn’t speak another word for the five miles it took them to get to her townhouse.
She punched in her code to open the gate and pulled into her assigned parking spot.
“C’mon,” she huffed, grabbing her purse.
He looked around with pursed his lips, and with a powerful heave, managed to extract himself from the car.
Betty walked to her bright red door, potted plants lined her stoop. “Home sweet home,” she said, swinging the door open and stepping back to let him in.
“This is your home, then?”
She bit her lip. Maybe it hadn’t been the right thing to bring him here. But apart from Trisha, she didn’t really have that many friends. What if he thought she was asking for a booty call?
Her cheeks flamed at the thought and she muttered a quick explanation. “It’s late, and I thought maybe you’d like some dinner.”
His face lit up like a little boy’s on Christmas morning. “Gods yes,” he groaned, “I could eat a horse.”
––––––––
The fille looked around like a cornered rabbit, darting quick glances over his shoulder, over hers, as if uncertain of her decision to bring him into her home.
“I’ll not kill you if that’s your worry,” he said with a grin.
She stopped moving, her brown eyes widened and she held up her hands as if to ward him off. “Why did you say that? I didn’t think that. Did I make you—”
Her voice had shot to a high pitched squeak and he pressed his finger to her lips, stilling her. Gerard found himself intrigued by the quirky proud woman who reeked of fear and yet stood her ground. Not that he wouldn’t mind a quicker capitulation than this—but he’d learned the prize was often made sweeter by the chase.
“Mon petite,” he traced the line of her heart shaped chin with his thumb, his body responding to the barely discernible trembles running through her, “women are like a fine wine, meant to be savored slowly and often.”
Her ears blushed a deep shade of pink, Gerard chuckled and touched the hot tips; he’d never known a woman’s ears could flush scarlet.
She grabbed his hand, stopping his caress and her voice was a low throaty chuckle. He knew women, knew when they were sexually aroused and though her lips said no, her body told the true story.
“Frenchmen and their wine, next thing you’ll be telling me is I taste of escargot.”
He wrapped his hand around the finger she pointed into his chest. “And butter. Don’t forget the butter,” he teased, “escargot, wine, and butter.”
“The French trinity.” She snorted and the curve of her luscious lips told him she fought the laugh. “I brought you here to eat, to have a warm bed for one night. That’s all. No seductions.” She stepped out of his arms. “One night, Gerard. Period. So don’t get too cozy here.”
Gerard smiled. But it wasn’t just any smile, it was the slow spread of lips, the narrowing of eyes, and the tilt of his chin that he used like a weapon against her. He’d won many hearts by simply being patient.
“As you say, Madam,” he purred; his raspy growl grew even deeper and caused her pupils to dilate.
Let the woman believe herself in charge. That was the trick. Make her feel secure in her power and she’d never know the seduction had ever happened until she was in bed with him. By that point she no longer cared about nonsense like roses and words of affirmation. She’d take whatever he gave, but what he gave was plenty good. None had ever been less than satisfied. At least in that, Gerard succeeded.
She bit her bottom lip. The lass was truly delicious, a tempting mix of minx and innocence. His heart beat hard at the thought of finally making her his.
“What is your name?” Why was he asking that? He didn’t care. Truly. It didn’t matter and yet his entire body tingled with the need to know. This had to be Betty Hart, of all the women he’d seen, only she intrigued him on a visceral level.
Her lips quirked. “If you’re nice, maybe I’ll tell you.”
Gerard grinned, did she sass him now? How very interesting.
“After dinner.” And with that, she turned on her heels. “I’m dripping water all over the floor and so are you. Let me get us some clothes and then we can start thinking about what to do for dinner.”
***
“Wow,” she pushed her plate away and rubbed her belly, “where did you learn to cook like that?”
“A woman,” he said, stabbing another red potato on his fork before popping it in his mouth.
She twirled her glass of red wine between slim fingers. “Ah, of course.”
He swallowed and nodded. “Food is not the way to a man’s heart, it’s the other way around. Men don’t care if beef is boiled, grilled, or sautéed. No,” he shook his head, “so long as it’s warm and fills our belly, we’re content. But a woman...” he licked his lips eyeing her chest. The tight fit of her gray top outlined her rounded breasts to perfection, making him hungry for something other than the smoked cod on his plate. “Cook for her and she’s all yours.” He held out the palm of his hand.
She leaned back, lifted her foot on the chair and rested her hand on her knee. “You’re a dangerous man to know, Gerard. Somehow I don’t think many women get to walk away from you with their heart intact.”
Wine had loosened her tongue, gave her a becoming pink flush to her cheeks, and Gerard wanted her with a mounting desire that bordered on the insane. She wore a pair of checkered boxers, so masculine, but not on her. Not with the long expanse of creamy legs peeking out beneath and the tight fitting top—there could be no mistaking she was pure woman.
His cock stirred. It’d been days since his last tup. Desperately wanting to adjust himself, he resisted the urge, not wanting her to realize just how badly he wanted her.
She licked her lips, her lids were slightly heavy, lazily opening and closing. He ground his jaw, no longer even tasting his food. With a growl, Gerard swiped the bottle of red off the table and filled his glass for the third time and chugged.
Either he got himself thoroughly smashed, or he’d make a move on her, and he knew she wasn’t ready. Not yet. He did it now and he’d never get another chance.
“Rented a movie last night,” she slurred a little.
“You’re a featherweight, mon cherie. Perhaps you shouldn’t drink more.”
She hiccupped and then giggled, covering her mouth. “Don’t drink usually. Love it,” she drawled, “but drinking alone makes one a drunk.” She nodded as if to punctuate her statement.
Gerard took the glass from her hand, she pouted, and bloody hell he was close to shooting off in his pants. Pants he’d still not changed out of.
She’d brought him clothes earlier, something she’d mentioned a prior beau owning. The idea had settled like a brick in his gut, he’d not wear the clothes of another lover. Gerard didn’t follow, he led.
Thank the gods they were sitting, otherwise she’d notice the tent in his pants for sure.
“Indeed, beauty.” He gently grabbed the stem of the crystal glass and took it from her.
She made a grab for it and he shook his head.
“I do believe you’d be very unhappy with yourself in the morning if you went to bed drunk with a big, straping,” he grinned, “virile...”
She snorted.
“Handsome man in your house,” he finished.
She laughed. “Only two glasses.”
He shook his head. “Non, belle, this was the third and,” he glanced at the half empty crystal, “it’s almost empty.”
She wagged her finger. “You. You. You.” She touched the tip of his nose and it was a bloody torture to remain seated and not grab her, pull her to his lap and fondle every inch of her luscious body. Her eyes went blank for a moment, then she blinked and finished her thought. “Make me nervous with all your ‘non’ and mon petite chou’ing and,” she sighed, “I hate players. Hate them and you’re just so you and I’m me,” she ran her hand down her body and now her chuckle started to wobble with the first hint of tears and he groaned.
Gods why had he urged her to bring out the wine? Beautiful or not, he could not deal with a woman’s tears, made him jittery and anxious to get away.
She sighed and shook her head, the smile back in place. “Rented a movie.”
His eyes widened. “Yes,” he pounced on her words.
She frowned. “Did I ask a question? I don’t remember asking a question.”
“Bloody hell, woman,” Gerard mumbled, louder he said, “Non. You did not ask, but yes, I’d like to see this movie.” He tasted the word, the crazy man in the bar that long ago night had talked on and on about talking pictures, Gerard was fairly certain a movie was that thing. He was curious despite his misgivings of spending too much time alone with a drunk woman who had uppity morals when sober.
She flipped hair out of her eyes. “Beauty and the Beast,” she snickered and he went still as a corpse. “Best non Anime movie ever. I mean I know it’s a cartoon, but it’s my favorite. Usually Briley comes to spend the nights and it’s his favorite too.” She stood. “Want to watch it with me?”
Gerard licked his teeth, fire burned in his gut and he shoved his plate away. “What is your name?”
She pursed her lips. “Ohh,” she mock shuddered, “so growly. I don’t know...” she tapped her chin.
“Argh,” he flicked his wrist and standing, grabbed their dishes, depositing them in the sink. “Forget it.”
She wiggled her brows. “You’re hooked on me. Admit it.”
“You’re a woman,” he said.
The woman was crazy, drunk, and hell if she sighed once more and lifted those breasts any higher he’d forget his fledgling morals and rip the shirt off her. Gerard gripped the sink. “Name?”
She stuck her tongue out and stood to wobbly feet. Her eyes bugged as she laughed. “Grounds a little rolly, no?”
“L’enfer sanglant, woman. Why do you keep wine in the house if you can’t handle it?” Gerard walked to her side, grabbing her elbow as he led her to the living room. She was going to smash her face in.
She wrinkled her nose and glanced down. “Bloody hell to you too and you have sexy hands. You know that. I bet you do. I bet women throw themselves at you, right? Jeez, I’m drunk. I’m never drunk... did you do that?”
He rolled his eyes. “Non. You’re a closeted lush that can’t handle her spirits.”
She snorted. “Betty Hart.”
Gerard pushed her down onto the couch, she did a little mewling sound in the back of her throat and snuggled her face into the cushions. Gods the woman had the sexiest legs he’d ever seen. Endlessly long and curvy, toned, and a pale luscious cream. He growled, and shoved his fingers through his hair. Blood pooled in his aching cock, and he took two steps back. But he still smelled her flowery perfume everywhere, and now she was yawning, stretching her arms high above her head, and baring her smooth belly—and it wasn’t enough. He needed distance, space.
She was drunk.
Gerard had few moral hang-ups, sexing up a drunkard was one of them. His nails dug into the palms of his hands.
She eyed him. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes, damn you. I heard your name. Where’s your shower?”
Betty’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and she pointed behind him. “Down the hall, and you’re really rude. Why did I bring you home? I’m a single woman, this is so stupid. And why am I drunk? Again, so stupid.”
She grabbed her forehead and muttered under her breath and she was right... so stupid. Because right now Gerard wanted to strip her, himself, and make her come until she screamed.
With a groan he turned on his heels and headed toward the shower. The colder the better.
“Fee,” he muttered, “come get me now.”
This time the air around him shuddered with a pop of pressure and he knew Danika had finally heard. Thank the gods, one more night around Betty and he’d lose any vestige of chivalry. It was time to go home, to the waiting arms of a lover who expected nothing more from him than a no-strings attached romp and away from the maddening temptation of Betty’s viperous tongue.
––––––––
Betty knew on some level that she was in trouble. A. She should never have brought him home. B. She most definitely should not have had that third glass. She’d known after two glasses she was just shy of buzzy. But Gerard had made her more nervous than she’d thought possible.
The dull sound of running water echoed down her hall, and she grabbed her furry pink throw blanket off the back of the couch, cuddling down into it. The man was huge, gorgeous, and he was staying in her house.
What the hell had she been thinking? In what universe would she EVER do something like this? Betty had always been the designated driver, even in college—she’d known she couldn’t handle any type of liquor. Hell, everyone knew that. If she went to a bar, it was virgin’s all the time.
She closed her eyes.
Gerard would be naked. She licked her lips. Soaping that hot, hard body of his. His long fingers stroking the length of his thick, bulging...
Panting, she snapped her eyes open. Oh man, she totally could not think that. It was too easy to picture the water sluicing down his rock hard abs. Not that she’d seen him without a shirt on, but no one that yummy would ever sport anything other than a six pack. The man screamed gym rat.
Heart racing, pulse pounding, and her thighs tingling with a powerful need to stroke herself she grabbed the D.V.D. off the coffee table and slowly made her way to the TV. She popped the movie in and settled back. A cartoon, that would kill the wicked voice in her head demanding she go join him.
But she couldn’t focus on it. She’d seen the movie at least five hundred times by this point. She basically knew it line by line. But it failed to keep her attention. Thirty minutes into it, she kept glancing at the empty doorway with a profound longing for him to return.
How long did it take him to shower? What exactly was the man doing? She strained, lifting up on her knees to peek around the corner. This was her house, she could totally walk down the hall without making him think she did it because of him. But yeah, her butt wasn’t moving. With her luck she’d trip and fall in front of the bathroom door just as he opened it and she’d catch a glimpse of... She shook her head. No, stop that Betty. She bit the corner of her lip and then crossing her arms, turned her back on the hallway and scowled at the blurry screen. She’d taken her contacts out earlier and she needed to put on her glasses.
Normally she had no problem grabbing them, but the black horn-rimmed glasses—while comfortable—were far from sexy. Not that she should give that a second thought.
“Ugh,” she swiped her case out of the basket next to the couch and plopped them on, who cared what he thought so long as she didn’t get a headache.
Betty focused on the screen, soon lost in the story and giggling when Beast acted like his beastly self—snarling at poor Belle for exploring the wrong side of the castle. She could totally picture Gerard acting the same way, all snarly and proprietary and her heart pounded wondering why she was so damn intrigued.
Maybe because he was big and French and she’d had a major thing for French men in college. Betty had jumped at the chance to study abroad for a year, especially when she’d discovered she’d be staying in gay Paris. She’d been wildly disappointed though.
Not because of the land, it was beyond beautiful. Or the food even, the food had been nothing short of heaven. But she’d not experienced a passionate French affair, her only regret.
She tapped her foot, bouncing it in rhythm to the song as she glanced over her shoulder again. “Where is he?”
Sure she’d told him no seduction, but he didn’t need to be so literal about it and stay away completely.
“Trying to forget you, my dear.”
Betty’s eyes bugged and she twirled around, making the room spin for a split second and giving herself a wicked case of vertigo. She grabbed her stomach and couldn’t even squeak out a sound at the sight of a doll sized woman hovering in front of her.
Her hair was blonde, piled in large curls atop her head and threaded through with a string of... well, it looked like dew. Like perfect miniature dew drops shimmering in mother of pearl. Her wings were a see through, blue-tinted gossamer color. Reminding Betty more of dragonflies wings than a butterfly’s. She had an open face, not breathtakingly gorgeous, but friendly.
Betty rubbed her eyes. “I know I’m not that drunk.”
The fairy—who’d been tapping her blue star tipped wand in into the palm of her hand—lifted a brow. “Oh is that it? Well, I can fix that right up.”
Before Betty had a moment to gather her thoughts in protest, pink lightning arced from the wand and encircled her head. Her heart raced as she breathed in ozone tinted air, the breath burned her nose with mini volts of shivering current. And like a balloon popping, the wine laced stupor she’d been in vanished in an instant.
She yelped and scooted to her feet. “Gerard!” She screamed. There’d been no thought to call Gerard, pure instinct drove her to yell for him, wanting him suddenly near her. “Come here. Come quick.”
The fairy grinned. “First name basis, already? How splendid!” She rubbed her hands. “I knew you were the one.”
“What?” Gerard’s thick burr snared Betty’s gaze, she pointed at the fairy, ready to demand if he saw her too or if she’d totally lost her mind, but the words died.
“You’re...you’re—”
Water puddled at his feet. His very bare feet. She licked her lips, mentally chanting at herself not to look up. Black springy hair covered extremely muscular calves, and his thighs... she gulped, like a cedar trees.
Even the girlie pink towel he’d wrapped around his waist could not detract from the sheer male beauty of him. Something thick and halfcocked bulged from behind it and her stomach flopped.
“Cherie?” he questioned again and she jerked, realizing she’d been gawking like an awkward teen. His eyes glimmered with a knowing light and when he bit his bottom lip, she knew he knew what she’d been peeking at. “Say the word, love, and the towel comes off.”
Her cheeks flamed.
“Oh gods,” the bell like voice dripped disgust, “you are a fine piece of work, Gerard. Does that ever work?”
His body tensed and he shoved off the wall. “Fee, you damn...”
The fairy circled in front of Betty and wagged her finger. “Uh, uh. Mind your words, mon ami.”
His mouth snapped shut, but his eyes narrowed into twin slits. That’s when Betty knew she wasn’t nuts. Either they were having a shared hallucination or this fairy was real.
Betty’s smile faltered when the fairy turned toward her.
“Well, what do you think?” she pointed at Betty while talking to Gerard, “beautiful like you like them. She can string a sentence together, and best of all she knows nothing of your colorful past.”
“Fee,” Gerard snarled, cutting her off. He sauntered into the middle of Betty’s living room, one hand gripping the edges of the towel together, the other flexing like he wanted to strike something.
The dichotomous image of a hulking man wrapped in fluffy pink made Betty want to laugh, even while she also wanted to drag him to her bedroom and scratch the itch he’d started the moment she’d spotted his cocky self lounging in her library.
“Wait,” Betty pinched the bridge of her nose, “what’s going on here? Who’s that?” She pointed to the flying fairy and jeez... that sounded weird just thinking it.
“That’s Danika—” Gerard said.
“Fairy Godmother Extraordinaire,” the fairy said with a snap of her head.
“I’ll be honest,” Betty chuckled, “this is so not what I expected when I brought you home with me. I’d swear you laced my brownies with weed, except we didn’t have any and could somebody please explain what the heck’s going on here!” Betty did always tend to talk too much when she got nervous, and right now she was about as nervous as she’d ever been.
Danika took a deep breath, her friendly smile growing even wider, which was just creepy as hell. In theory coming face to face with a doll sized fairy seemed cool, in reality... not so much. Betty had no desire to go through pink electroshock 2.0, thank you very much, once had been more than enough. The thing might be small, but she packed a punch.
“My dear,” the fairy’s voice filtered through the room like a choir of bells, “I promise to answer all your questions, but first I must needs speak with Gerard. If you could give us some privacy please?”
Betty’s eyes bugged. Was she freaking kidding? A stranger—fairy or no—coming into her house and asking her to leave? Yeah-freaking-right. She crossed her arms.
Gerard shook his head. “Her house, she can stay.” His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of nerves Betty had never heard from him before. For reasons unknown, her stomach sank with a horrible sense that all was not well.
“So?” he asked, his knuckles blanched white.
Danika looked down at the carpet, and Betty rocked on her heels as anxiety riddled her gut. It was obvious she was intruding on something personal. But the compulsion to know over rode any desire to give them privacy. She tip-toed closer.
“Stay,” Gerard commanded, obviously thinking she meant to leave. He didn’t turn to look at her, his unswerving gaze stayed put on the fairy.
“I’ve been given a brief reprieve to meet with you first. Galeta the Blue herself comes to hand down verdict, Gerard.”
He scrubbed his face, and his silence was deafening. Betty’s heart beat so hard she was sure they heard it.
“They did not believe me then?” he asked in a flat tone of voice.
Danika didn’t answer, but apparently she didn’t need to, because Gerard nodded. The little fairy glanced over at Betty. “My dear, I’m truly sorry for what is about to transpire. I do what I must, but always know it is for the good. Trust that. Please.”
Betty didn’t even have a moment to ask what, or contemplate the cryptic statement before a loud whooshing sound poured through the stillness. A dazzling blue light seared Betty’s retinas, and she blinked against the sudden onslaught of tears.
Another fairy hovered beside Danika when the light finally faded. Her shoulders were rigid, and though her skin still held the firmness of youth, there was an ancientness to her presence that Betty felt in every nerve of her body.
The fairy could only be Galeta the Blue, and it was obvious from one glance why she’d been named that. Her eyes were the blue of an arctic ice tunnel, clear and mesmerizing. The dress she wore sparkled like ice refracted in sunlight, and on her head was a large golden crown dripping with sapphires. But it was the blue ringlets of hair framing her head in a wild halo that really drew Betty’s eye.
“Gerard,” Galeta intoned, his name rolled from her tongue with the steely reverberations of a bottomless echo. “I’ve come to pass judgment.”
Beside her Danika trembled, and Betty would bet anything it wasn’t with fear. The tiny woman literally had steam rolling from her ears.
For a fact, Betty had never seen anything more bizarre in her life. A whole new world of weird was opening up before her eyes and all she could do was stare like a mindless drone, hypnotized like one watching a car wreck unfold.
“The tribunal convened,” that deeply feminine voice thundered, “and you’ve been found guilty.”
Gerard, who’d been silent, now growled. “You know it’s not true. Glean my memory if you must, fairy,” he pleaded, but the tiny blue woman gave him a wicked smile, made all the more sinister coming from the china doll beauty.
Betty swallowed when Gerard grabbed her hand, squeezing hard and making her wince.
Her heart stuttered, what was going on here? Who was this demon fairy and what did they want with him?
Then those glacial blue eyes turned to her, and the smirk became a full-fledged grin dripping with malice and spite. “Is this the mate you spoke of, Danika?”
Mate?
“Yes,” Danika squeaked.
Betty jerked as if slapped. “What? Whoa.” She took a step back, holding up her free hand. “What’s going on here?”
Galeta flew toward Betty, stopping inches from her face, forcing Betty to take another step back just so that she could see her without being forced to cross her eyes.
“Ugly creature you are,” Galeta spat by her foot.
“Hey!” Betty cried.
Gerard squeezed her hand again, and stepped part ways in front of her. As if to shield her.
“Galeta, the verdict, if you please,” Danika spoke up, her voice projecting a calm Betty most definitely did not feel.
Right now Betty kept imagining plucking Galeta the freak’s massive electric blue butterfly wings off her back and permanently grounding her. Ugly! She’d give that fairy ugly.
“Veritas, Gerard Caron, that is your sentence.”
He stiffened, his entire body went so still Betty feared he’d had a heart attack. Danika closed her eyes.
“Bound you will be for one month. Slave to her whims...” While Galeta spoke, she twirled her wand, a blue spray of light coalesced into a tight ball. Rolling like a wave on top of itself, faster and faster.
Betty planted herself square in front of Gerard. A split second impulse she immediately regretted when Galeta’s hard glacial stare turned on her. Galeta’s smile revealed baby fangs, and Betty’s knees knocked so hard she thought she might pass out.
“Indeed she must be your mate to throw herself in front of you like that,” Galeta sneered.
“Not... no,” Betty gulped, unable to even finish the thought.
The light faded, and a floating silver necklace with a black heart shaped pendant dangled before her eyes. Galeta snatched it, the pendant was twice the size of her head—but the fairy hefted it as it weighed no more than a feather. She buzzed around Betty.
Betty twisted as the fairy slammed the pendant against Gerard’s naked chest. He hadn’t moved. But his jaw flexed, and the muscle in his cheek ticked as his dark blue eyes burned holy fury.
“Bound,” Galeta continued.
As she spoke, the black pendant swirled with bands of thick crimson and swirls of liquid gold. A blue light pulsed from around Gerard’s chest where the pendant rested. His teeth clenched, the spasms of his muscles traveled through Betty’s palm. Beads of sweat popped out on his brows. But he didn’t mutter a sound of protest.
Betty hugged his arm to her chest wanting to ease his obvious pain.
“So mote it be.” When Galeta recited those words, Betty’s skin tingled and all the fine hairs on her body stood up.
Gerard dropped her hand. Betty wanted to ask him what had just happened. She’d seen it, but she’d understood nothing. But he was like a live wire. Anger spit off him like exploding bits of hot shrapnel, and Betty winced, not wanting to draw his ire in her direction. His eyes were flat, hard, and almost black, burning into Galeta with murderous intentions.
For her part, the fairy seemed completely oblivious. Or uncaring, which was more likely the case. She turned and held the necklace out to Betty. “It’s yours. Enjoy it.” As she made to pass it to Betty’s outstretched hand, she snapped her wand out and pointed directly at Gerard’s manhood. “Mortuus!” she boomed, and a bright burst of blue engulfed the lower half of his body like flames.
“Gerard,” Betty cried when he fell to his knees with a loud grunt.
“Galeta, by the goddess,” Danika screamed, “what have you done?”
Gerard’s back bowed so hard Betty thought his spine might crack. His bellow of pain shook the frame of her house.
Then the light died and Galeta smirked. “Vengeance is sweet.” She turned glowing eyes on Betty and tossed the pendant at her. Betty jumped out of the way, fearing the thing might burn her. Instead she wrapped her arms around Gerard’s back, he heaved, and like someone experiencing electroshock therapy, his every muscle twitched. Betty grabbed his face. A grayish pallor tinted the lines around his mouth.
“Look at me,” she cooed, trying to get him to focus on something other than the pain, “ssh, that’s good. That’s good.” She petted him in a soothing up and down motion on his back. Finally lucidity stared back at her instead of pain.
He gripped her wrist.
“Pathetic,” Galeta whispered one final word of hate before vanishing in a puff of blue smoke.
“I’m fine,” he said, jaw tight and working back and forth. “Fine.” He stood, leaning heavily on Betty’s shoulder, and Danika hovered in front of them.
“What just happened?” Betty snapped her frustration. Danika winced.
“The petite chienne neutered me,” he spat and then coughed.
“What the hell? Neutered?” Betty looked at Danika, heart trapped like moth’s wings in her throat.
Danika squeezed her eyes shut. “I feared she’d do something like this. I feared and yet she still took me by surprise.” She shook her head and looked hard at Betty.
“What does that mean exactly?”
“Means I’m done having sex,” Gerard growled. He stepped away from Betty and without looking back at either of them marched back down the hallway.
Betty gazed at the empty door for a second before turning back to Danika.
Danika gripped her finger. “Betty Hart, there is a way. There is a way to undo this curse, but you are the key. Hear me, girl, and hear me well. Galeta has sought to put Gerard down for ages. There’s a vendetta between them, old but deep. I don’t know what it is, but I feared when I discovered who’d head his hearing, she’d find a way to exact revenge.”
Comprehension at this point was nil. Betty had zero idea what the fairy rambled on about, in fact she could barely understand what’d just happened. She shook the little fairy off. As far as she was concerned, this one could be just as bad as the nasty piece of work that’d just left. There wasn’t a single reason to believe a word of what Danika said.
The necklace hung in the air as if suspended on wires, Betty eyed it like one would a snake ready to strike.
“Oh, dear me,” Danika sighed, grabbing her chest, “what a fine mess. Oh, my dear, truly I’m so sorry.”
Had any of that been real? And yet she only had to look at the glowing red pendant to see proof positive that she’d not totally lost her mind. Not to mention the bruise she was sure she’d have on her shoulder tomorrow morning, the muscle still throbbed where his fingers had dug in. And then of course there was the matter of fairy dressed in tree bark and covered in dew, yeah, all pretty convincing examples she’d not gone nutters.
“Who are you, what is that, and who is he?” Betty turned, glaring at the tiny fairy whose smile wobbled.
“Sit,” Danika gestured to the couch, “this might take a while.”
After an hour, many questions, and lots of groans, Betty was beginning to understand the sheer magnitude of her situation.
“Please tell me,” she eyed the necklace she had no intention of wearing, “that is not what I think it is.”
Danika started swishing her wand, probably from a case of nerves, but Betty had seen how powerful that thing was, and didn’t want it swishing anywhere near her.
“Please don’t.” She pointed to the wand and Danika blinked as if she hadn’t realized what she’d been doing.
She tucked it into her pocket and threw her hands up with a dramatic sigh. “You must understand, it was the only way. I had to tell them you two were mated in order to spare his life. In Kingdom we’re not allowed to kill those who’ve truly bonded. Too cruel.”
Betty laughed. “Oh and neutering a grown man like he was a dog, isn’t?”
Danika wrinkled her nose. “That should never have happened.”
“Then why didn’t you stop it?” Betty glared.
Danika sucked in a sharp breath, her jaw trembled, and it was obvious the tiny thing was close to tears. Betty’s heart softened against her will, not that she really knew a thing about Gerard, but seeing him suffer like that... for some personal vendetta— and she could only guess it had something to do with being jilted (no woman ever went that crazy unless it involved a matter of the heart)—it was wrong. Danika was a fairy too, she should have stopped it.
“Short answer is, I cannot.” Danika shook her head, sending her fat curls bouncing. “She is the Head Mistress of Fairy Inc. and we cannot raise a hand against her. But besides that, my power is no match for hers. I cannot undo what she has wrought.”
“Then tell someone who can!” Betty shouted.
Danika’s look was sad. “Would that I could, lass, truly. But that is not the way of it in fairy, Galeta wouldn’t let me close to anyone powerful enough to tell.” Her small frame shook. Danika took a moment to gather herself, and with a deep breath, gave Betty a calm smile. “But this is where you come in. You can fix this, Betty Hart.” Danika grabbed the necklace that still floated and traced the glass pendant with a soft sigh. “This is the pendant of Veritas.”
“Truth.” Betty nodded, recognizing the Latin word immediately. “What truth?”
“Yours.” Danika pressed her lips together. “In essence he’s bound to you for a month. The pendant is a recording, not of what happens in a physical sense, but rather a recording of the heart. At the end of the month he will stand trial one final time, the pendant will either glow for him or not.”
“What does that mean exactly?” Betty bounced her leg up and down.
“I told them you were his mate, but obviously they did not believe me.” She held up the locket. “However, if the pendant glows then he’ll be set free.”
“Oh,” her eyebrows shot up, and then quickly turned into a frown. “Oh. And if he doesn’t pass the test,” she waved her hand, “he has another test or something?”
“No, not exactly, dear.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
Danika’s wings fluttered a nervous rhythm. “If the necklace fails to glow, he’ll be killed. That was their verdict. To be freed you must fall in love with him, that is the condition.”
She sucked in a breath. That was impossible. That big, virile man, in danger of losing his life if she didn’t fall in love with him. “That’s... that’s barbaric.”
Danika shrugged. “All things considered, he’s lucky.”
Betty chewed on her thumb. “And if I fall in love with him? Does that mean he stays?”
“He’ll stay.” Danika glanced at the wall opposite her.
Betty tilted her head. The way the fairy had said it, more like a question than a statement of fact bothered Betty, but it didn’t really matter because Betty had no intention of falling in love with him. Though she wouldn’t think about him dying either, there had to be a way around that. No way would she be responsible for sending someone to their death. No way. Betty was plenty smart, she’d figure this out. “What about the other thing? The thing Galeta did to him?”
“Put this on.” Danika handed Betty the necklace.
The thin chain felt as heavy as a five pound dumb bell on her finger. She could barely stand to look at it. “I’ll put it in my jewelry box. I don’t want this thing on me.”
“Doesn’t work that way, dear.” Danika swished her wand and unclasped the ring. “Move your hair.”
“Why? I really don’t want to wear this.”
“Because if you want to save his life, you must wear it at all times.”
Betty wanted to refuse. But she shoved her hair off her shoulders instead and tensed as the necklace wound around her neck as if by invisible fingers. The moment it settled against her chest, warmth flowed from the pendant through her skin. Her entire body throbbed with liquid heat, from the tips of her pinky fingers to her toes. It was hard to describe, but it almost felt like the gentle swell of an ocean tide lapping against her breast. Her eyes widened and her mouth parted in an ‘o’.
Danika patted the pendant and sighed.
A rush of dizzying euphoria took hold of her, drove Betty to her feet, and she paced back and forth with restless energy. “I don’t want this. I’ve been burned. I don’t want to deal with another egotistical jerk and what... Oh no, wait a second.” She stopped on a dime, as another thought become painfully obvious. “He’s gonna have to stay here with me, isn’t he?”
“Well—” the fairy wheedled, eyes scrunching in her face.
“Oh jeez. Just wonderful.” Betty shook her head.
“Get to know him, lass. If anyone can bring out the best in that man, it’s you. It’s there, just hidden. Make him see you.”
“Why? What if I don’t want to?” After James, Betty had zero desire to begin another romance. She was tired of dating, tired of men, and so far Gerard had done very little to make her feel in any way romantically inclined toward him. The man could kiss like nobody’s business, but that was just sex. Betty wanted all or nothing, and refused to ever settle again.
“Because you are his perfect match. Only you can awaken the shriveled mess of his heart, only you can break the curse Galeta planted on him.”
Betty shook her head. What did the fairy possibly see in her to even make her think that? She and Gerard were oil and water. They didn’t mix, barely even got along. There was nothing there, chemistry maybe. But anything of any substance—not a bit.
“I can’t keep him here,” she crossed her arms.
“He’s got no place else to go. Betty, you are it. His last hope. Love, that is the most powerful magic of all.” As she said it, her body began to grow translucent. “Love, it can move mountains.”
She was fading, and Betty was still confused, still full of questions. “But what Galeta did. How do I break that?” she yelled at the barely there shadow.
“Love conquers all...” The last words quivered on the air like the silken strand of a spider’s web.
––––––––
A knock sounded on the bathroom door. Gerard didn’t move off the toilet seat. “What?” he growled.
“Gerard, its Betty,” her soft voice made his heart clench.
“Go away.” He glanced back down at the dragonfly rug on the floor, dizzy with the reality of what’d just happened.
How could Galeta have neutered him? Being bound to a woman was punishment enough, within the month they’d learn she did not love him and execute him posthaste. But now, now he’d never again know the pleasures of a woman’s body beneath his. Galeta might as well have killed him now.
Galeta had warned him years ago, after he’d rebuffed her advances, that she’d make him pay. And she had. First with the twisted parody of ‘his’ story and now this. The muscles in his forearms locked with the strain of holding himself back from punching a hole through Betty’s wall.
“Gerard, you need to come out. I think we should talk.”
Women—a pox on them all.
He eyed the door and shot to his feet, slamming his open palm against the white paneled wood. “Come to gloat, to demand your due? What? What do you want from me?”
His blood rushed hot in his ears. Gods the humiliation. Forced to do her bidding, knowing he could never feel another moment of pleasure again unless with her, and only if she fell in love with him. As if that could ever happen. She hated him already.
Gerard pressed his forehead to the door. A sound, like the tapping of her fingers grated in his ears.
“I’m sorry.”
His fingers twitched. Why would she apologize?
“Open the door, please.”
He didn’t know what possessed him to open the door, but he flung it wide and her mouth parted on a wordless scream as she fell forward.
Grabbing her under her arms, he righted her, and then glowered. “You asked me to open, you should have been prepared instead of tripping into me like a drunken whore!”
Betty blustered, shoving strands of hair out of face. That’s when he noticed her spectacles. They were tipped at the corners, reminding him of cat eyes. Hideous things, but on her they looked adorable and he was shocked to note his pulse racing. That’s also when he realized he did not become hard, and the anger returned, sizzling hot through his gut. Growling, he walked out, forcing her to press up against the wall so as not to be run down.
Gerard had no clue what to do. He felt lost and helpless, and those feelings so vexed him, he walked to front door intending to head out to the nearest bar and pound the first male face he saw.
“Gerard Caron, you stop right there!” Betty demanded.
Shocked, he paused with his hand on the knob.
“Firstly,” she grabbed his shoulder and twirled him around, “you’re naked, do you have any idea how much trouble I’d get in for letting a crazy Frenchman walk the streets of the bible belt like that?” She gestured at him, a becoming pink flush rose high on her cheeks.
He glanced down at himself and his lips twitched; nudity bothered her more than him. Though he did not care for the fact that her eyes lingered on his flaccid cock. He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to shout that if he could, he’d be hard and ready for her.
“Secondly,” she said slowly, drawing his attention back to her, “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
“Why do you care?” he asked after a hearts beat.
She smiled, and when she moved closer, the hair slid off the nape of her neck, exposing the fluttering beat of her pulse. She was nervous? Of him? Of the situation? He wished he knew. Betty grabbed his hand and led him back to her living room.
“We need to talk,” she said again, “Danika told me parts of this story. But you really have to give it to me straight. It’s not just you anymore. We’re in this together now.”
She tucked her long legs underneath her bottom, and Gerard clenched his eyes shut. He couldn’t look at her, seeing her and knowing he could do nothing to quench his lust was as a dagger in the heart. Torture.
“And maybe you should put this over your lap,” she smiled, tucking a fluffy pink blanket around him.
He almost chuckled, relieved that even unmanned as he was, he still managed to make her want him. That was, until he saw the large face of a cartoonish cat staring back at him. “Gods mademoiselle,” he curled his lip, “so much pink.”
“Hey,” she punched him lightly on the arm, “I’m a single girl. If I want to rock the Hello Kitty theme, then it’s my prerogative. Now stop stalling and talk.”
“Go change,” he ordered gruffly, scrubbing a hand down his jaw.
“What?” her brows gathered and she looked down at herself. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“Betty Hart,” he growled, “you wish to talk, fine I’ll oblige you. But change, I cannot focus for want of you, it is a small torture to see you and know I cannot have you. Change.”
“You couldn’t have me anyway,” she huffed, crossing her arms underneath her chest and his mouth watered seeing the rounded globes inch higher.
“Now,” he gritted and clamped his lips shut, choosing to ignore her jab.
Betty narrowed her eyes, but after a tense moment, she finally stood and marched back into the hallway.
Gerard leaned his head back, rubbing his throbbing temples, wondering how he’d ever last around her. His curse could be lifted, if she fell in love with him.
Hell of a turn his life had taken. He’d tell her the truth, in all its unvarnished glory. She’d never believe him anyway, what did it matter?
Her shuffling feet made him lift his head, and he laughed when he saw her glower. She wore a thick white jacket that covered her down to mid calf.
“There,” she snapped, “better?”
Still laughing, he nodded. “Much.”
“Look at me,” she walked slowly to the chair opposite him, “I’m not even going to sit next to you.”
He bit his lip, delighted to note her breathing hitch ever so slightly. Gerard slouched, stretching out his legs.
“Ugh! You made me change, I really wish you’d do the same for me. I gave you some clothes earlier, why aren’t you wearing them?” Her nose did a cute wrinkle when she grumbled.
The jacket might as well have been a big marshmallow on her. But even so, with her mussed hair and sexy glasses, she made him ache for a touch of that supple flesh beneath. For another one of those kisses that had stolen his breath only hours earlier.
“They’ve been worn by other men. I don’t share,” he said, and her eyes widened. He licked his teeth, knowing she’d caught his double meaning. “What do you wish to know, shrew?”
Her lips thinned. “For starters, Danika never could tell me why Galeta had a hard on for you. The she demon had revenge on the mind and I want to know why.”
“Oh gods...”
“Ah.” She held up her finger. “You promised.”
He rolled his eyes. “Enfer.”
She lifted a brow. “Oh hell is right. I’m waiting. In fact, I’ll wait here all night. Out with it. I’m involved in this now too, I need to know why. Danika gave me very little and call me—”
“A nag,” Gerard supplied with a grin.
She stuck her tongue out. “Whatever. I don’t care. You owe me. I think I just saved your butt from the fire, and I want to know that it was worth it. So start talking, mister.”
“Because she tried to seduce me, I spurned her, and she’s never forgiven me for it.” He waited, knowing she’d laugh.
She laughed. “Oh man, that’s rich. You, the guy with sex on the mind twenty four seven, expect me to believe that. How long were you guys bumping fuzzies before you decided to move on to greener pastures?” She lifted her brow.
He had no idea what the hell that meant, but he was pretty certain he got the gist of it.
“Gerard, you’re stuck with me for a month. I’ve got nothing but time.” She tapped her fingers rhythmically on her arm.
“You don’t know me, Betty. You know nothing of me. Yes, I like sex. In fact, I love it. I know you do, any red blooded creature does. I won’t deny it.” He drilled her with his hard gaze, defying her to deny his assertion.
After a moment she blinked and looked down at her feet.
“I did deny her. She’s rather terrifying as far as females go. Those fangs,” he shuddered, “nasty creature that fee.”
Betty nodded. “I noticed those things too. She’s pretty scary for being barely a foot tall.”
“You’re taking this very well.” He cocked his head. “I’d have expected most mortals to deny what they’d seen. Run in terror, something.”
Betty plucked at her jacket. “I’m not most mortals.” She chanced a fleeting glance at him, her brown eyes huge and warm in her beautiful face.
What was it about the woman, the more he looked, the prettier she became. It was odd, and not altogether pleasing. Gerard frowned, shifting around. The blanket slipped, and like a laser her eyes zoomed to his lap. He patted it back into place. Her face flushed crimson, but she nodded in silent thanks.
She swallowed and then looked directly at him. “I swear I’ll kill you myself, Gerard Caron...”
The way his name spilled from her lips with her strange accent made his blood hot.
“But I’m a card carrying geek.”
“A what?”
Betty ran her finger along her jaw line. Why had he never noticed the shimmering green of her sculpted nails? She had such delicate fingers, long boned and finely wrought. What would that hand feel like on him? His blood hummed and his body tingled. Those fingers caressing his balls, running long and slow down his hard length.
He clenched his jaw, and glanced quickly at the wall. Gerard might no longer be able to harden, but the desire hadn’t waned. And if he didn’t watch it, he’d keep himself in a perpetual state of phantom arousal and pain.
“Oh jeez, I never talk about this.” Her eyes narrowed, and with an embarrassed twist of her lips, she got up, grabbed her bag off the kitchen counter, and then plopped back down on the couch next to him. She dug around the brown purse. “No laughing. You swear.”
Did her voice shake just now? And why was that so damn adorable? He nodded. “No laughing.”
Betty bit her bottom lip, and Gerard licked his own, wishing it were his tongue on her instead. The jacket was doing nothing to dull his desire. For the first time in his life he realized just how often he’d focused on sex and sex alone. Now that he couldn’t have it, he’d have to learn new ways to seduce and woo. The moment he thought it, he knew that’s exactly what he meant to do. He’d win his freedom by making her fall in love with him.
It might be harder without the benefit of his skills in bed, but he’d succeed. He had no choice. Mind made up, he turned to her, deciding then and there he’d focus fully on her needs, wishes, and wants.
She handed him a yellow card. Betty nibbled on her thumb, her anxiety so palpable his pulse quickened.
Gerard glanced at the card. A cartoonish picture of two men engaged in a fierce sword battle stared back at him.
“Hello my name is Betty Hart, librarian by day, and Manga superhero slash anime fanatic by night. I’m a member of the guild of Bleeding Heart Rebels and go by the name Eclipse. I’ve even been known to larp in college,” she squeaked out the last, wincing as she stared at him, looking like a frightened colt of what he’d think.
Based off her reaction, he was fairly certain what she’d just admitted to was as heinous an embarrassment as they came. Gerard scratched his chin. “And that means what?”
She covered her face with her hands. “You were supposed to be talking to me about this stuff, and here I am the one suddenly on the spot. Look,” she peeked out at him from between her fingers, “if you’re real nice I’ll show you what I mean some other day. Can we just get back on topic?”
“But this is on topic,” he grinned, enjoying her sudden display of shyness as much as anything else. “I asked you why you’re so okay with all this, and I’m not sure what this,” he lifted the card, “has to do with that.”
She snatched the card out of his hands and shoved it back into her purse. “That’s only part of it, the other part, and I guess the most relevant, is that Daddy was an astrobiologist.”
Again he shook his head. “And that means?”
“He believed in life on other planets. In fact, he was so sure of it, he wrote several books based on the truth behind popular mythos and the science of the fall of alien man. I guess you can say I came by my geek status honestly. Daddy taught me all he knew, and when I grew up, his words still made sense.” She shrugged. “I went to college, got a degree in psychology which I put to zero use, and discovered my dad wasn’t crazy, but brilliant.”
“What made you certain he wasn’t simply a raving lunatic?” Gerard asked, genuinely intrigued. This woman was so different from what he’d known, gorgeous yes... but stimulating as well.
Her smile was brilliant as she bounced up again and ran back down her hall. She came back seconds later with a large leather bound book in her hands. Gerard’s heart flipped when she opened the book and handed it to him. She pointed to a spot on the page. “Read this.” She fairly vibrated with enthusiasm.
He glanced at the black smudges, nodded as if he had a clue what it said, and closed it. “Yes.”
“Yes! That’s it. That’s all you have to say about that? It’s amazing, it’s true, and my Daddy knew it all along. The Fermi paradox, space is so vast... surely we’re not the only ones to exist in it. Out there, beyond time and matter were other civilizations, peoples.” She pointed to him. “You.” She clapped her hands and he had the sudden sick feeling that she viewed him more as a bug beneath a viewing glass than a man all of a sudden. “Riddle me this, Gerard. Did you happen to travel here through a worm hole?”
He lifted a brow. The woman was insane, he was still stuck on the Fermi-whats-it paradox thingy, and she was talking wormholes... and what the hell was that anyway? A giant worm eating holes in air? Why the devil would that make her so excited? He brushed his fingers through his hair. “I’ve not a clue. Danika swished her wand, and I was yanked through.”
She laughed. “Was there a tunnel?” Her brown eyes glittered. She’d the fevered look of a wolf snapping in for its kill. “Did it shimmer? Swirl? Glow?”
Gods she was gorgeous, skin all flushed and dewy pink. If he could somehow mute her voice, he could stare at her all day. But she was giving him a massive ache in the back of his skull. Gerard squeezed his brow.
“It was blue. What are you saying, mademoiselle?” he grumped.
She rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Suddenly memories of another woman—just as lovely as this one—intruded in his mind. Belle had wielded her sharp wit and keen brain better than any blade. More than once he’d suffered the knowledge that she’d thought him beneath her. Heat stoked the glowing embers in his gut to an incendiary level and his nostrils flared as his fingers clenched.
“There’s life in other planets, dimensions... whatever!” She clapped her hands and laughed, a full throaty sound so sexy and alluring he couldn’t help but lean in to her, even while still fueled with anger. Her brown eyes sparkled, and then she cradled her face in her hands, and sucked in a sharp breath.
“Oh my gosh, I did it again, didn’t I?”
“What?” he grumbled, scooting back on the seat, trying to maintain some distance between them.
She grabbed his wrist. “Oh, Gerard, I’m sorry. Trisha gets on me all the time about how rude I come off sometimes. I’m sorry, I... I just, jeez. How lame. I love science and science fiction and all the weird stuff girls shouldn’t like, which is why I work in a library, and I hope you don’t think I was talking down to you. I swear I wasn’t. I just get wicked excited.”
Not once in all the years he’d known Belle, had she ever apologized for making him feel intellectually inferior. Had Betty truly not meant to offend him? Was her enthusiasm for a subject he found mind numbingly boring, truly that exciting to her?
Betty flicked her hands. “Look, truce okay? Let’s start over here. You’re stuck with me for a month. Let’s try to make it pleasant.” She stuck her hand out. “Hi, my name is Betty Hart. What’s your name?”
Her smile was pure innocence, and his heart tripped when he took her hand. The woman was nuts, and yet she excited him on a level he’d never known before.
“Gerard Caron,” he said. “Good to meet you, folle.” Her skin was so soft, he didn’t want to let go. The feel of her small hand in his large one, the way she looked at him with a mixture of awe and shyness—he wanted to see her like this always.
“I guess I am kind of crazy.” A good natured laugh spilled from her.
Something strange happened in the center of Gerard’s chest. A tickling flutter of weirdness he’d never felt before, mainly because he’d only ever looked at women with one desire in mind. He couldn’t do that with her, it made her different. But he wasn’t sure yet how.
“There’s something I’m dying to know,” she continued, and he noticed she seemed as content to hang onto his hand as he was to hang onto hers. He thumbed her knuckles.
“What?”
“Danika told me about Kingdom.”
He nodded.
“How it’s a realm full of immortals of legend. What we here on Earth call fairy tales.”
Gerard let go of her hand and squirmed, knowing where this line of questioning was headed. “So why have you never heard of me?” He pierced her with his steely eyed gaze. “Is that what you’re wondering?”
Her lips stretched into a crooked smile as she nodded.
He sighed, and placed his elbows on his knees, staring at nothing in particular. Again she touched him, her fingers grazed his jaw and he jerked.
“You don’t have to tell me now,” she said softly, “not if you’re not ready.”
He shook his head. “If I tell you, you’ll not believe. None do.”
“Try me.”
She’d told him that once before, he hadn’t trusted her then. Still wasn’t sure he could now. The soft glow of lamplight washed across the top of her head, highlighting the natural gold in her hair. It made her appear almost angelic. Gerard glanced down at the beige carpet.
“She was the youngest of three. Daughter of a merchant. Stories would have you believe she was all that was kindness and grace. The girl was a demone. Breathtakingly beautiful with her soft brown eyes and chestnut colored hair.” He looked at her. “You look a little like her. Although I think I prefer the black of your hair to hers.”
Betty’s lips twitched.
He sighed. “I was young, and a fool. I fell hard, and did anything she asked of me. Kill the neighbor’s dog for digging up her sister’s garden.” He clenched his fist, staring at his knuckles. “Hit the town drunk for daring to look at her wrong.” Gerard squeezed his eyes shut, the hated memories pressing in on him like a wall closing in.
“Are you talking about Belle, Gerard?” Betty’s soft voice was a gentle caress. “As in Beauty and the Beast?”
He nodded.
“Wow. But, there was never any mention of a Frenchman in the original book, and the one in the movie...” She grimaced, letting her sentence die off.
“Wasn’t me. That,” he pointed to the empty case sitting next to her television, “is the perverted version Galeta pandered about. My name is Gerard. I never tried to kill the Beast, he was an idiot that deserved that cold blooded, money hungry chienne. The Beast detested my love for her, when it came time to pen our story to tale he had coin enough to sway Galeta’s black heart. Wasn’t hard, she hated me enough as it was.” He laughed, a bitter, scornful sound. “I can never escape the witch, no matter how hard I try. Did you know she’s the fairy of the arts as well?”
Betty shook her head.
He snorted. “The bitch has ruined me. I’m forever a joke in Kingdom. Congratulations, Betty Hart, you’re stuck with me.”
“But, I don’t understand—”
“What is there to understand?” he snapped.
“I just want to know you better—”
He stood, uncaring that the blanket dropped, that she got a good eye full, let her. Her eyes widened, and she glanced quickly away. Gerard was tired of talking about it. “Don’t. Where am I to sleep?”
“Gerard, please understand...”
“Non.” He sliced the air with his hand. “If you’d rather, I’ll find accommodations elsewhere.”
Betty’s smile was sad, soft. She pointed down the hall. “Take the guest room. It’s always made up for Briley whenever he wants to have a surprise sleepover.”
The tip of Gerard’s tongue danced in his mouth, words like—I’m sorry, it’s not you, settled like a heavy weight. Turning on his heels, he strode down the hall, breathing hard from words left unsaid.
––––––––
Betty shouldn’t have pushed him. She’d seen his chest heaving, his nostrils flaring... classic flight or fight response to something unpleasant. And why she continued to goad him into telling all was beyond her.
She put the car in park and grabbed the ShopMart bags from off the passenger seat, slamming the car door behind her. The night was still, the maples surrounding her town house towered like hulking shadows. Past two in the morning, she was probably the only idiot still up at this time of night.
Not afraid of the dark, but slightly creeped out by being so alone in the dead of night, she jogged to her door and ran inside. The moment she stepped into her darkened hall her heart rate slowed to normal.
The plastic bags crinkled loudly through the quiet of the night. Her tea cup shaped wall clock tick-tocked. Its metrical rhythm only helped to increase the intensity of her already frazzled nerves.
She leaned against the door, glancing at the hall, knowing he slept in her house. Tonight had been a revelation. She still didn’t know Gerard, but she wanted to. They were stuck together for a long time. Ignoring him was no longer an option, besides, she’d done a pretty lousy job of that anyway. Kissing him, letting him kiss her back, imagining his lean naked body pressed tight to hers... heat zipped down her spine and she clamped down on a moan.
Trisha would die, and that thought made her smile. Never in her life had Betty imagined she’d find herself in this situation. Harboring an alien from some alternate dimension, a hot, sexy one at that. Martian ManHunter had been her first crush growing up, though she’d always assumed her alien would have green skin and oblong shaped eyes. As an adult the green skinned freaks had long since lost their appeal.
But Gerard looked so human—so purely masculine—that had she not experienced the fairies and magic herself, she’d have thought him as mortal as her.
She rubbed sweaty palms on her legs, the sound of the bags disturbed the peace of night and she cringed. Betty had driven for hours, vacillating between running to Trisha’s—kicking whatever piece of man meat out of her house and dishing all—or keeping Gerard’s secret to herself.
Of all the people in the world Gerard could have met, she doubted many would be as accepting of what he was. Betty had been primed from the moment she could talk, to believe in life beyond Earth. But even her brother, raised by the same parents in the same house, rejected any and all notion of aliens.
She sighed and grabbed the pendant that had ceased feeling like a weight. It pulsed against her skin like the warmth of a sun’s ray. The lights swirled in and on each other like a wave tumbling onto shore. Betty straightened her shoulders and headed to his room.
She didn’t bother to knock, knowing if he said to go away she do it. Instead, she opened it. A slice of moonlight cut across his body like a silver blade, highlighting the flat, corded muscles of his stomach. Betty swallowed and licked her lips.
“Cherie?” his deep voice brushed the night like a master painter’s stroke. Her lashes fluttered.
Betty gripped the bags tighter, knuckles flexing tight as she held on to the bags like a life line. With quiet resolve, she pushed away from the door, she’d come this far, she wasn’t going to wimp out now.
“You’re awake?” Duh, of course he was. Betty frowned, wishing for a do over, a smoother more sexy entrance. One she’d imagine Trisha doing.
He sat up, the white sheet dropped even lower, and though she’d glimpsed his bit of male flesh already, it still made her dizzy and slightly breathless. The man was gorgeous. Gorgeous, and in her house. Two words not normally synonymous in her life.
“Betty,” his smooth whiskey voice made her stomach churn, “is something amiss?”
His hair was mussed, the whiskers on his cheek more pronounced than this morning, and jeez... could her heart beat any harder? She dropped the bags on the floor.
“I bought you some clothes. Nothing fancy. Just some jeans, you looked like a size 32... so I got 34’s just in case and a pack of large ribbed shirts. There’s some...” she blushed, thankful it was so dark, “underwear. I didn’t know your size so I guessed. So um, yeah... goodnight, then.”
Her hair snapped like a band behind her head as she turned sharply on her heels.
“Betty.”
She stopped, spine rigid, breathless. “Gerard?”
“I’m not happy about what’s happened.”
Betty turned back around, concern for him easing her fears immediately. “Is it me?”
He shook his head.
“If I could take it off.” She yanked on the necklace that she’d tried on the drive to divest herself of, only to learn it wouldn’t come off.
“I can’t sleep,” he grumbled. “Slept better last night on that damn table. I just keep thinking.”
Betty took a step, and then another and another, before she knew it, she stood by the edge of his bed. With the lights turned off and nothing but moonshine to see him by, he looked vulnerable—no less sexy, but much more approachable.
She fingered the edge of the sheet. “I can’t sleep either,” she finally admitted. “I’ve been driving for hours.”
“I heard you leave.” She drowned in the depths of his eyes as they roamed her face. “I’m not a man used to talking. To telling so much of who I am. I’m still not sure I want to.”
Betty gripped the sheet, inching it higher. “I’m not asking you to, Gerard. But I think this can at least be fun. Now that sex is out of the equation, maybe you can view me not as a body but as a person. Get to know me. I’m not all that bad.”
His lips twitched. “You’ve still the tongue of a viper about you.”
She rolled her eyes. “And you’re still a Neanderthal, but I forgive you for that.”
“Gods help me,” he moaned, and his smile was so boyish, so silly, Betty’s nerves completely fled.
She tugged on the sheet.
His eyes narrowed. “Cherie, are you trying to slip into my bed?”
Her heart jerked. “No,” she said a bit too swiftly, “why, are you asking me to?”
His brow rose, and his lips spread into a slow curl. “Do you want to?”
Yes. “Why? Do you want me to?” Pulse pounding so hard she tasted the adrenaline, she waited. She should just say it. It was obvious. But again, this wasn’t something she’d ever do, but anytime it came to this man she found herself doing and saying things outside her comfort zone.
He crossed his arms as if waiting on her to say something.
She lifted her chin, recognizing his challenge and responded to it. “Fine. Yes, I want to cuddle. I’m tired, but I can’t sleep. We’re in this together and I feel sort of bonded to you because of it. I trust you not to manhandle me in the middle of the night, and it’s been a long time since I’ve cuddled anyone. Call me a slut if you want but—”
“Enfer, Cherie. Too many words.” Gerard threw the sheets back, and he was so naked and she was so not, she felt hot and twitchy all over again.
“Oh jeez, Gerard. You’re gonna have to put on some night pants or something. I... I can’t.”
“Have you ever lain with a man before, Betty?” his deep voice rolled over her skin like warmed oil.
“Many times. Tons. Lots.”
He snorted and got up. “Give me clothes then, woman.”
Betty tripped over her feet, and dived into the bag, feeling around for the soft fabric. She grabbed the black sleeping pants and tossed them at him. “There.”
He laughed and slipped them on. He held his arms out. “Better?”
Not really. Because the pants tapered to his slim waist like the finest silk, hugged his hips and thighs, teasing her with what lay beneath. She bit her lip.
Gerard hopped back into the bed, crossed his arms behind his head and reclined. “Well?”
“What?”
His brow rose. “Your turn. You can’t sleep in all that.”
Betty glanced down at her jeans and shirt. She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not afraid of you, Gerard. I’m not a prude.”
“Prove it.” He crossed his heels, wearing a cocky grin.
“This is so stupid,” she said, lifting her shirt above her head, tossing it at his face. She always wore an undershirt, so if he’d hoped to see the color of her bra he was S.O.L. “Not like you can do anything, why put yourself through the torture?”
He sniffed her pink top, and her stomach swirled with dancing butterflies, she’d spritzed herself with orange blossom perfume before she’d left and couldn’t help wondering if he liked it. Her toes curled, digging into the carpet.
“The trews,” he said, and she licked her lips, pulse fluttering as the butterflies climbed out her stomach and up her throat.
Betty touched the button of her jeans and channeling her best Marilyn Monroe meets Xena warrior princess sex kitten vibe, snapped it open. Her fingers shook, but thankfully he didn’t seem to notice as she pushed the jeans off.
“You’ve the shapely thighs of a gazelle, sorciere.”
His voice sounded hoarse and hearing him call her a sorceress, knowing he implied she cast a spell on him, it filled her with a sense of womanly empowerment. Betty smiled and hopped over her pile. “See, not afraid of you.”
He scrubbed his jaw.
But the second she got in bed with him, and his arm stretched across her shoulder, the fear came back like a splash of ice water to the face. She tensed.
Gerard didn’t speak either, but his fingers rubbing her cold upper arms soothed her, and before she knew it, she was shuddering out a deep breath, body liquid and languid.
Briley hated covering his window with a curtain, hated blocking out the stars he said. Now she knew why, Gerard’s big body cradling hers, her head on his chest—lulled by the steady beat of his heart—and the beauty of a million twinkling lights, was better than any sleeping pill. From one breath to the next, Betty slipped into the peaceful oblivion of dreams.
***
Gerard stared at her, entranced by the soft lift of her chest, her warm breaths against his skin, and wondered why he’d never taken the time to watch a woman sleep before. Watch the shadow of dreams race across her face, see her face twitch and hear her gentle moans. T’was a wonder he’d never want to miss out on again.
He couldn’t understand her. Understand why she was okay with this. If it’d been him, and she’d fallen into his lap, he’d have screwed her senseless, then walked away. He’d not have cared for her plight, it wasn’t his problem. And yet here she was, snuggled up to him, with her leg wrapped around his and her tiny hand splayed against his heart, and he couldn’t understand it.
His lips twitched. She rambled, a lot. Nonsense he often couldn’t make out, but it didn’t bother him. Not even the sharp tongue of hers did anything other than make his blood hot and his brain crazed with a consuming need to know her.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. But the one month limit told him one thing... the tribunal had not believed she was his mate. This was a test, one he was sure to fail.
Though he’d bedded many women, Gerard had never been able to make one truly fall in love with him. With his body... yes. With his skill to illicit passion unlike any they’d ever known, beyond a doubt. He’d do everything in his power to make Betty fall in love with him.
Because he knew this was Galeta’s final attempt at revenge. If within the month Betty didn’t fall in love, she’d be freed, and he’d be sent back and destroyed.
She twitched and he brushed his fingers across her forehead, tucking her hair back.
Gerard had fallen in love once before, deeply. Truly. He’d loved Belle like no other before or since. He’d sworn off love after her betrayal, after she’d left him for a beast with money. He’d grown callused, cruel. He’d do the same to Betty, he always did. Gerard couldn’t love anymore. It simply wasn’t in him.
“Betty Hart, I’m sorry.” He whispered and she smiled, snuggling in deeper. “You shouldn’t know me. I’m no good. Don’t fall in love with me, Cherie. Guard your heart, because the moment I’m free, I’ll leave you. I always do.”
––––––––
“Good morning, mon petite.”
Betty lifted a brow, never a morning person she shuffled her way toward the coffee maker and smiled when she smelled the roasted aroma of Arabica beans. “You made coffee?”
He grinned and a tingle of appreciation zipped down her spine, making her fingers clench around the handle of the coffee pot. She’d known it—he was even more delicious looking in the morning with the scruff and the heart melting smile.
His smile held and the air around them tightened, prickling her flesh as he ever so slightly moved in. “I thought you might need some.”
Betty licked her lips. He was shirtless, chiseled pecs flexing under her hot gaze. She snapped her eyes back to his face, but it wasn’t much better. Blue eyes the color of hottest flames popped in the morning light. How had she ever thought them black?
She shook her head. Get a hold of yourself, Hart! Clearing her throat, she turned abruptly and with shaking fingers, grabbed a coffee mug out of the cabinet above her head. “That was nice.”
She poured a generous amount of the black brew into her cup and with it still steaming, gulped a mouthful. It burned the sensitive skin on the roof of her mouth and brought tears to her eyes, but the pain helped her think about something other than his yummy delectableness. Was that even a phrase? Either way, it completely applied.
“There’s milk on the counter,” he said and turned back to the stove.
“I drink it black,” she murmured, then frowned. “What are you doing?”
He shot her another one of those killer grins. “Making your breakfast.” Grabbing the carton of eggs off the counter he asked, “two or three egg omelet?”
“One, and you don’t have to do that.”
He shrugged and cracked two eggs, then started to mix them. “It takes no effort. You’re putting up with me for a month and I’ve nothing else to do, Cherie.”
How in the world had he learned her kitchen so quickly? Betty hardly knew it and she’d lived here three years. There were days she’d open a drawer and rediscover a gadget she hadn’t seen in months. To say she wasn’t much of a cook was a stretch.
He padded around the kitchen with smooth efficiency. Opening drawers, grabbing a utensil, beating the egg, moving to the refrigerator and pulling out tons of vegetables and a bag of generic shredded cheese—all of it with an effortless grace that let her know the bedroom wasn’t the only place the man felt confident.
Before she knew it the room filled with the scent of buttery veggies. Betty inhaled greedily, used to only smelling this when she went out to eat—which was usually never thanks to a measly librarian’s salary.
Not wanting to get in the way, she sat down at the breakfast bar, crossed her legs, and sipped her still piping hot brew.
“When do you work today?” he asked with his back still to her.
Betty drummed her fingers on her warm mug, admiring the flex and sway of his muscles as he poured the egg batter into the pan. The sizzle made her mouth water and her stomach growl.
“Nine. I’ve got some shelving and paperwork to do before I open the doors.”
He nodded. “Grab two plates, s’il vous plait.”
Betty got up and took two plates to him. With a deft flick of his wrist, he sliced the omelet in half and slipped one end on her plate and the other on his. He handed her a plate.
The omelets were the fluffiest, yellow things she’d ever seen. Normally if she made one, and those attempts were rare, the egg would be just shy of black and the cheese tasting of rubber. Picking up a fork, she sliced through the creation and popped the steaming forkful into her mouth. Moaning in ecstasy at the incredible moist and lush flavors of roasted peppers and onions and gooey cheese, she beamed at a proud looking Gerard.
“Oh my, wow,” she breathed, tongue throbbing from the hot bite and not caring. “This is amazing. What did you do?”
With a nod toward the table, he guided her to her seat of the night before.
He took a bite and nodded. “Butter, vegetables, salt. The only things truly essential for a fine meal.”
Betty ate, each bite tasting better than the last. She smiled and he returned it.
“I hope the coffee is not too bitter. We tend to prefer tea in Kingdom, though Jinni’s got an affinity for the coffee. I learned from him.” He pointed to her now empty cup.
Strange that this should feel so perfect, so cozy. They hardly knew each other, and it was amazing how she’d gone from terrified and suspicious of the man, to comfortable and fully at ease. Betty rested her chin on the hand holding the now dangling fork. “You know this is feeling domestic. I’d ask you what you’re up to, Gerard.” She lifted a brow.
He chewed the last of his omelet and then sighed. “As you said last night, we’re stuck with each other for a month. Let’s at least try to get along, no?”
Betty nibbled on the last forkful. Even cold, the food was great. It’d been fantastic last night too. The man knew his way around the kitchen. Made her curious what else he knew his way around. Her stomach fluttered with that thought.
“You said you learned from a woman. Who was she?”
He licked his teeth. “Sure you want to know?”
“Why not.” Probably some skank he’d slept with.
“Bar maid I slept with.”
Yup, she’d known it. Betty chuckled.
He tipped his jaw. “Why do you laugh?”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know you at all, and yet there’s times where I feel like I’ve known you forever. Although I gotta say...” she gave a melodramatic sigh, pushing the plate away, “your cooking is amazing. If I had to get stuck with someone for a month, I could have done worse. I want more.”
The moment the words left her lips, a strange silver glow shimmered in the air between them like smoke. The necklace she’d still been unable to yank off flared hot. Gerard’s face tightened, he cracked his jaw, and shot to his feet.
Mechanical footsteps took him back to the stove where he grabbed an egg.
“Gerard?” Betty frowned. Why was he acting so strange? His movements seemed forced, not at all graceful like before.
“What?” he snapped, and beat the egg to within an inch of its life, the fork pinged off the glass bowl with such force she feared he’d shatter the glass.
“What are you doing?”
“Doing your bidding,” he snarled, and slopped the egg into the pan.
It took a second for the truth to dawn on her (had she been more awake, she might have recognized what was happening sooner), she’d compelled him. Or rather, the power of the necklace had.
“Stop!” Betty held up her hands. “I was kidding.”
Suddenly he stopped. The tense muscles of his back visibly relaxed, and he turned around then, his breathing was labored. Gerard planted his hands on either side of the stove. His eyes sparked fury, betrayal.
Betty shook her head. “I had no idea I could do that.”
“Didn’t you?” his eyes narrowed to twin slits. “They told you, I’m yours to command. To enslave,” he spat, and a lump wedged in Betty’s throat.
“No,” she denied again with a firm shake of her head. “No. I’d never want that kind of power over you.” Betty glanced down at the necklace. She yanked on it, more desperate now than ever to take it off.
What had the fairies done? What a wicked, vile magic, and to make her be the one in charge of something so absolute. To have this much power over anyone, to tell him to jump off a cliff and know he’d have to do it. It was wrong. Betty could never hurt a fly and though it’d just been eggs this time, in a moment of anger she could forget herself and make him do something awful. The enormity of the responsibility slammed into her, and she tugged harder, the silver chain tore into her neck.
Then his fingers were covering hers. “You’ll hurt yourself,” he whispered.
He smelled so good, like soap and coffee, and he was looking at her not with anger, but firm resolve, and she wanted to cry. “I will never, ever, ever do that to you again. I swear. I’m sorry, Gerard.”
Gerard smoothed his hand against her hair and nodded. “I believe you, Cherie. Forgive me?”
She nodded, though there was nothing to forgive. He grabbed her empty mug and refilled it, then settled her back in her chair.
“Drink,” he ordered.
Her grin was wobbly. “Touche.”
Gerard winked. “Turnabout, you know how it is.”
Betty drank the entire cup before she started to feel more like herself again. “You should know, I’m not usually such a wimp. I don’t cry at sappy love stories, or even when boyfriend’s break up with me. Except for the first day, okay maybe the first month... but I’m not a wimp.”
Why was she telling him that? It’s not like she had cried, although he must have seen the sheen in her eyes. Heart in her throat, she snuck a peek at him. He had his arms crossed behind his head, studying her with a contemplative gleam. “They meant to unman me, Cherie. I apologize for taking my anger out on you.”
She nodded and tapped her pointer finger in the center of the table. “Then let me lay some ground rules now.”
He lifted a brow.
“To prove to you I can be trusted, I will never boss you around.”
“Good.”
Her lips twitched. “Unless it involves making sure the toilet seat goes back down, and changing the toilet paper roll when it’s empty.” She shrugged.
“Agreed,” he said.
She met his gaze, but instead of laughing and glancing away, he held her look. As the seconds ticked by her pulse sped, heat spiraled down her legs and the terry cloth robe she wore felt suddenly too heavy and scratchy against her skin. His eyes went from playful teasing, to glinting with smoke and snapping with flame.
Heat rose up her neck. Betty grabbed the edges of her robe with nerveless fingers and closed it tighter around her waist.
He laughed, stood and grabbed their dishes. “Are you satisfied? More coffee, toast, juice?”
Again, he seemed completely unaffected, which rankled. She was hot, itchy, and desperate for something. Something she shouldn’t want—a taste of him. Of his body, his lips, his touch, but it was impossible now.
“No, I’m good.” Betty stood and ran to the bathroom.
***
Gerard gripped the kitchen sink, breathing hard as shivers pulsated throughout his frame, the remnants of trembling muscles slow to burn out. The magic had been strong, demanding, and he’d seethed with hatred for Galeta... even with Betty herself. He’d thought she’d done it apurpose. But then he’d seen her eyes, the quiver of her soft pink lips, and his fury had vanished.
If he’d been fully a man—fully himself and able to get hard—he’d have grabbed her and kissed her. Letting Betty taste the passion of his lust before disrobing and screwing her senseless on the kitchen floor. She’d looked so vulnerable, gorgeous. Black hair all mussed from sleep, luscious mouth tipped in a frown... vulnerable to him then.
Though his arousal raged hard in him, he couldn’t get it up, and so he’d kept his distance. Knowing touching her would only make his lust worse, not better.
Gerard slammed his open palm on the counter, rattling the dishes in the sink. Breakfast had been a brilliant idea, she’d responded as he’d hoped. But then he’d growled and acted a baboon, scaring her. If he had any hope of freedom, of leaving a free man, he had to make her love him, not fear him.
“You can do this, Gerard,” he growled, “you must.”
––––––––
Already a week had flown by. Betty brushed some bronzer on her cheeks. Why she was primping when they were getting ready to go fishing on the lake? If Daddy had taught her one thing about fishing, it was that real fisherwomen didn’t wear makeup. It would just melt off in the heat of the day. Usually she listened, but this time Gerard was coming with her and she wanted to look nice.
“Betty,” he knocked on the door, “you almost ready, Cherie? Too much longer and the fish won’t bite.”
She dropped the brush and swiped her mascara up. “Just a minute.”
The past week had flown by in a whirlwind. Trisha suspected something was up, Betty knew. Especially because she kept asking Betty to go out to the bar, have a late night drink, to which Betty stoutly refused. The moment the clock struck seven she was out the door, heart somersaulting in her chest, knowing he was home, and waiting on her. Trisha wasn’t dumb and would soon start poking around, but right now, Gerard felt like her guilty secret.
It sort of made Betty feel bad, not sharing such a huge thing with her best friend, but this entire situation was so bizarre Betty felt an inexplicable need to keep mum about it and him.
In fact, this was her first day off in a week—Trisha’s too. Which meant in another hour Trisha would probably show up looking for her and would immediately see why Betty hadn’t wanted drinks.
The phone rang.
“Betty?” Gerard called.
“Let the machine get it.” It was probably Trisha. She blinked, blotting out the excess black glop from the corners of her eyes.
The machine whirred then beeped. “Listen you whore—”
Betty’s heart stuttered the moment she recognized the voice and she threw the door open, running to the machine on legs that were suddenly heavy and clumsy. She tapped the red button on the machine to stop the recording.
Gerard’s nostrils flared, his fists clenched, and he looked at her through slitted eyes. “Who was that?”
Pulse still racing, she squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Nobody.”
It’d been over a week since Gretchen’s last phone call—long enough Betty had almost forgotten about her completely.
“Didn’t sound like nobody to me,” he said, his thumb grazing her chin and tipping it up. Betty huffed, giving him a weak smile.
“It’s nothing.”
His eyes were so blue this morning, deep and bottomless. Dangerous eyes, because if a girl wasn’t careful, she could fall and lose herself in their hot depths. Something Betty could never afford to do. Though when he looked at her like that, all kind and searching, it made heat race through her limbs—turning them to jelly, and making it hard to remember why she shouldn’t jump in headlong.
He grinned, and rubbed his thumb across her cheekbone. “You’ve a smear on your eye. Grease, I think.”
She chuckled and pushed his hand away. “Makeup. Let me go finish up. Did you pack the sandwiches?”
He pointed to the cooler. Amazed yet again by how efficient he was in her home, how well he knew her place already. How normal and comfortable it all felt, them sharing a home, cuddling each night in bed. Her stomach fluttered.
Betty turned, and he grabbed her shoulder, his large hand gripping gently. “You sure you’re okay?”
She patted his hand. “I’m fine, Gerard.”
As Betty padded back to the bathroom the phone rang again. Her spine stiffened. This was insane, when would Gretchen understand she wanted nothing to do with James? As if! Especially now with Gerard in the picture, it was like comparing boring apples to exotic passion fruit. Betty marched back, intending to hurl some of her own insults at the woman, when Gerard picked up the phone and growled, “What?”
The mask of anger he wore was quickly replaced by a lifting of his brows and a pulling of his lips. He held the phone out to her. “Somebody asking for you.”
“If it’s Trisha, I’m not here,” she whispered and waved her hands in front of her face.
“It’s a boy. I think.”
Only one boy would call her at home. Smiling now, she grabbed the phone. “Hello, monkey butt! What’s crackalackin’?”
Gerard gave her a strange look, and she giggled, clutching the receiver with both hands.
Briley chuckled. “Hi, Aunt Betty. You’re weird,” he said in that high pitched voice of his that never failed to elicit a smile from her. “I want to see you today.”
“Aww, monkey. That’s sweet. Where’s your dad?”
“Dad!” he cried. “Aunt Betty.”
Betty licked her lips. Gerard leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, and wearing an amused grin. “What is crackalackin’?” his deep burr resonated with a hint of laughter.
She opened her mouth to answer, when her brother got on the line. She held up a finger.
“Betty?” Kelly asked.
“Hey, K, you pulling a shift tonight?”
“Yeah.”
Betty heard the exhaustion in his voice and could almost picture him running his hand over his head. Poor thing. He was working too hard, and now that it was summer vacation Briley would be out of school. Pulling long shifts was tough enough, but pulling long shifts and having to pay for special child care was even tougher.
“Let me take the kiddo today,” she offered.
“Oh man, would you. That would be great.” His relief rushed over the line in a loud whoosh. “I’ve got to head out in about twenty minutes.”
“Yep,” she nodded, “I’ll be there. See you.”
They blew air kisses and hung up.
“Are we not going fishing today?” Gerard asked.
Betty ran to her hall mirror and grabbed a tissue off the end table, dabbing at the black smear. “No we are. We’re just making a pit stop first.”
Once she was satisfied she no longer looked like a raccoon, she grabbed her keys and purse. “Well let’s go.”
Gerard picked up the cooler and followed her into the car. Betty climbed in, turned the ignition, and backed out of the parking lot.
“I guess I should warn you, I’m picking up Briley. He’s going fishing with us.”
She bit the corner of her lip. Hoping he wouldn’t mind. She’d not thought to ask him, mainly because she didn’t assume he’d care. But then again some guys weren’t kid people, and if he in anyway made Briley feel unwelcomed, she’d have a serious conniption. Betty drummed on the wheel.
He didn’t say anything for a moment.
“He’s a good kid. Quiet. A little angel. Really, you’ll like him.”
“What is crackalackin’?” he asked finally.
“What?” Betty laughed, thrown for a moment by his question. “Umm, well, nothing really. It’s slang. Means what’s cracking. What’s happening.” She turned right at the light, heading down the country road toward Kelly’s house.
The countryside was awash in sprays of gentle pinks and soft yellows, the gloom of night still held court at the very tip of the sky as the sun slowly crested the horizon.
“Then why don’t you simply say that?” he asked.
She laughed. “Who knows. It would be easier wouldn’t it?”
He nodded.
Betty gripped the wheel tighter. “So do you mind?”
“Non, Cherie. I do not.”
He seemed so relaxed this morning. Nights spent in his arms, talking about stupid stuff like which superhero movie was better (he’d seen every Spiderman and Superman, and so far thought the superhero customs much too girlie for him—but she’d promised he’d love Iron Man), or how to make the perfect soufflé without causing the top to sink in, had only made her feel closer to him. Apart from the first night, they’d not discussed the fairies, the pendant, or any other part of his past. It was the elephant in the room both refused to broach. She wasn’t stupid, eventually they’d have to talk about what happened after the month, but not now.
Now was a time of discovery.
Each day was a new surprise. Like finding he was a closet metro. Though, that wasn’t really all that surprising. Even now, just to go fishing, he had his dark brown hair slicked back, he’d chosen the pair of jeans with cross stitched pockets and a dark burgundy shirt. In no way did he look comfortable, unlike her in a pair of cut off blue jeans and ribbed tank top. Then again, she was wearing makeup... bit of a pot/kettle moment there.
But there were other things, cool things she bet only she knew now. Like the fact that he loved to have the shell of his ear rubbed right before bed. That his favorite color was gray—though not the dreary gray of a cloudy morning, but the lavender gray of twilight. If he’d been born on Earth he’d have been a master chef, that apart from sex, the man also had a true passion for cooking and was damn good at it.
In turn he put up with her Manga obsession, watching one episode of Dragon Love Spell after another, long into the night. Discussing why overly dramatized facial expressions conveyed a truer sense of emotion as opposed to the Americanized drawings, and how Xena could have kicked any gladiator’s butt. A point he hotly denied.
“I’m going to have to introduce you to my brother,” she said.
He brushed the pad of his thumb against her neck and the touch was electric, snapping her nerves to life and making her every cell hyperaware of his proximity. She breathed, tasting the scent of his woodsy cologne on her tongue.
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d let anyone else know I existed.” His tone was teasing, and the deep tenor of his accent made her roll down a window, suddenly hot and shaky.
The cool breeze caressed her flesh, helping her to think clearer.
“He’ll want to meet you because of Briley.” She nibbled her lip. “Have you ever been around someone with down syndrome, Gerard?”
“What is that?” he asked, cocking his head.
Spying Kelly’s white farmhouse in the distance, she slowed down to twenty miles per hour so she could finish their talk.
“It’s a chromosomal disorder. Makes kids slower to learn and develop. But they’re smart as a whip.” She jerked to look at him, nodding hard. “So don’t you dare treat him bad, or be mean. I’m serious, Gerard. I’m very careful who I let around my nephew, so if you’ve got a problem now, you tell me.”
His eyes widened, and he held up his hands. “Peace, Cherie. I’ll not harm the boy. I confess I know nothing of that disorder, but I’ll be on my best behavior.” He crossed his heart and she was pretty sure hers melted.
“Okay, well come on then.” She pulled into the gravel driveway and parked the car. The moment she stopped, the red door flew open and an adorable blond headed child waved at her.
She smiled.
“Is that Briley?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Aunt Betty,” Briley was halfway down the steps and running full tilt toward her, his arms open and wearing his hunter’s green fishing jacket. A tan piece of fabric bulged from his hand. “I’m ready. I’m ready. I’m gonna catch lots of largemouth bass.”
Then he slammed into her with the joyful exuberance unique to him. She hugged him tight, squeezing hard and peppering his forehead with kisses. “Missed you, monkey butt. Golly, it’s been a long time. Well let me look at you.”
She pushed him back to arms length, putting on a show of studying him. His warm brown eyes glowed, the exact shade of melted chocolate, they always sparkled with life. He giggled. “You saw me three weeks ago.”
“No way,” she shook her head, “because I swear you grew an inch. No five!”
“Aunt Betty,” Briley giggled and hugged her again.
She ruffled his hair. Kelly clapped her on the shoulder, his other hand full of fishing rod, tackle box, and a Spiderman book bag. Betty looked up. “Oh jeez, K, you’ve looked better.”
The man didn’t just sport a five o’clock shadow, more like a ten, and his brown hair had been finger brushed, if that. His blue scrubs though were sharp and wrinkle free as always. “Too many shifts, not enough sleep, and now Jennifer drops him off late last night...”
Betty rolled her eyes. “Another get rich quick scheme convention?”
“Something like that,” he growled, forking his fingers through his hair. “I’ve got the rest of the week off, but today.” He grabbed his hands as if in prayer. “You’re a life saver.”
Betty kissed his cheek, his gray-black stubble rubbing her cheek. “Anything for my, big bro.”
Gerard cleared his throat, and Betty jumped guiltily, she’d almost forgotten him. “Gerard, this is Kelly and Briley.” She clapped Briley’s back.
Kelly stepped forward and grabbed Gerard’s hand. “Who are you and how do you know my sister?”
Gerard straightened almost imperceptibly, meeting Kelly’s hard gaze head on.
“I’m—” he started.
“My boyfriend.” Betty smiled at Gerard’s startled expression and nodded at Kelly. “New boyfriend.” She grabbed Gerard’s hand.
Kelly cocked his head. “And why am I just hearing about this now? Does Trisha know?”
Betty ignored Gerard’s burning look. “No, she doesn’t, and besides when did you start getting so chummy with Trisha? As I recall you burned her in high school. Minor miracle she and I stayed friends after that.” She arched a brow.
“Jeez, Betty, chill.” Kelly rolled his eyes. “She was calling looking for you last night, apparently she called five times and went straight to voicemail each time.”
“Hot date.” She winked at Gerard, who suddenly seemed to understand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, giving it a gentle squeeze. Whoa, did her stomach just flutter? Sheesh, she felt sixteen and unsure again.
“Aunt Betty, is he gonna be my uncle?” Briley asked, brown eyes creasing into a deep frown. He stepped behind her back.
“No, monkey butt,” she said.
“Maybe,” Gerard said.
She shot him a venomous look. He didn’t need to get into character that much, no need to give Briley hope. They both knew that wouldn’t happen. His smile faltered.
Already the sun grew warmer on her back. Betty wore a green tank top and hadn’t yet slathered her desperately pale body with sunscreen, she needed to get her butt in the car before she turned into a lobster.
“Okay, who wants to go fishing?” she raised her voice to an exaggerated pitch, trying to regain the happy vibe of only a moment ago.
She snatched the fishing rod, box, and bag from Kelly’s lax hands and gave him a weak smile. “So yeah, I’ll bring him back safe and sound tonight.”
Kelly still looked like he was trying to work his way through her weak explanation, and if she hung around too much longer, her brilliant brother would see it for the white lie it was.
“Welp, k then!” She kissed his cheek, grabbed Briley and Gerard’s hands, and dragged them to the car.
“Bye, Daddy!” Briley waved happily.
Once in the car, and all buckled up, she waved again and pretended she didn’t see Kelly mouth: Wait!
“Boyfriend?” Gerard’s deep barrel voice did weird things to her insides, made them feel all tingly and fuzzy. She squirmed in her seat. “Hmm...” He sounded amused and heat bloomed on her cheeks.
“Hush,” she whispered, she didn’t want Briley hearing she’d lied. After all, she always told him how bad it was to do that, if he found out she’d lied, he’d hound her about it all day long.
Gerard’s jaw clamped shut with an audible click. His nostrils flared, and her eyes widened when she realized what she’d done. The pendant flared hot against her breast.
“And I mean that in a totally independent non-bossy way.”
He took a deep breath and glared at her. “You swore you wouldn’t.”
She peeked at Briley in the backseat. He was oblivious, staring out the window with a happy grin.
“I’m sorry,” she hissed. “I forget sometimes. But...” she pointedly looked at the mirror and jerked her head, “not here. Cool?”
Gerard thinned his lips. “Non, I’m not cold.”
She frowned and then laughed. “No, I mean is that okay?”
“Why don’t you just say that then?” he grumped.
“It’s called a colloquialism. An informal expression used in common speech and you’re right, it’s total nonsense. Unfortunately I speak a lot of nonsense.” She bit her lip and tapped his forearm. “Still friends?”
The world stretched out like an endless horizon of trees and sky. The robin’s blue sky held barely a trace of clouds.
Gerard nodded. “Cool?” His brows furrowed, seeking her approval.
She fought the grin and nodded. “Good enough.”
“Aunt Betty,” Briley chirped. “I want music.”
“Well, you’re in luck.” She popped ol’ faithful into her radio and cranked it up loud.
Briley clapped his hands and started singing loud and clear. “I love you-”
Her heart soared as she crested the hill. “You love me,” she joined him, her warble strong, but uncaring how badly it cracked. Briley thought she had the voice of an angel, and Gerard, sticking his finger in his ear with a wince, wouldn’t stop her from making her little man happy.
––––––––
The fish had stopped biting hours ago. Although the mosquitos were still going strong. Betty smacked her leg and sighed.
Briley laughed, a glop of peanut butter coated the corner of his plump pink lips. “Should have brought the bug spray.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re totally right, Aunt Betty is a dunderhead sometimes.”
He giggled, wiggling his rod in the algae tinted water. Bugs danced ripples across the placid lake. Bubbles surfaced next to their boot. A minnow had been teasing Briley all day, stealing his worm before jumping off the line. Briley was determined to catch the thief.
“Don’t bob the line, garcon,” Gerard touched his rod, stilling Briley’s excited movements. “You’ll scare the fish.”
“Garcon ain’t a word,” Briley laughed and shook his head, blonde wisps of hair slipped into his eye, but he did stop jerking the rod. Gerard only smiled.
This morning she’d feared Gerard might do or say something wrong to Briley. But the man had been as patient as a saint. Threading Briley’s hook with one worm after another. Or when he snapped the hook off on a piece of drift wood, he’d rethread the hook again. He smiled and laughed often and Briley had complemented his superior sandwich making abilities—looking shyly at Aunt Betty and stammering he might love her, but her food tasted really yucky sometimes. To which she’d blustered and pretended to be offended until he crawled over the wooden seat—worrying her for a split second when the small paddle boat rocked precariously—and gave her a big hug. After that hug (two hours ago) she’d been chopped liver, it’d been Mr. Gerard this and Mr. Gerard that, and Betty’s cheek muscles were sore from smiling so hard.
Briley held the rod absolutely still, barely breathing, his excitement palpable. Gerard reached into the cooler and took out a piece of ham. He ripped the lunchmeat in half and dropped it into the water with a small plop.
“What are you doin’?” Briley asked.
The ham bobbed on the surface for a moment before sinking slowly in. A silver flash streaked through the water. Briley shrieked. “The minnow. It’s back. Give me a net,” he demanded.
Gerard reached for the green net, and with a swift flick of his wrist, slipped the unsuspecting fish into it. It flipped and flopped, thrashing violently.
Briley cooed and dropped the rod. It thunked on the bottom of the boat. His hands shook as he reached for the net. “It’s so little.” He giggled, and tickled the silvery fish’s belly.
The thing was no bigger than Betty’s pinky finger and she knew they’d have to toss it back.
Gerard nodded. “I think it’s ticklish.”
Briley snorted. “Fish ain’t ticklish, Mr. Gerard.”
Gerard’s eyes widened into a shocked expression. “Non? But see it is dancing under your touch.”
“Naw,” Briley jutted out his jaw, “it’s gaspin’ for air. Here now,” he patted the teeny fish one last time. “I just wanted to say hi. Now it’s time to go back.” He dipped the net back into the water and the fish slid out, taking a moment to right itself before zipping off, disappearing beneath murky waters.
He dusted his hands on his mud stained jeans and grinned, exposing the small gap between his front teeth. “Aunt Betty, I got my costume,” he said, so matter of factly it took Betty a second to follow, then she clapped her hands excitedly.
“Me too! MoComic-con, baby!” They sang in unison and Gerard groaned.
“Next weekend. You’re still taking me, right, Aunt Betty?”
“Yup.” Betty shoulder bumped Gerard. “What was that groan for?”
“Is that not the geek stuff you’d mentioned earlier? With the two men in spandex on your yellow card?”
“Oh yeah,” Briley fist pumped.
She nodded, grinning hard. “And you’re coming.”
A large black bird swooped from one tree branch to another, knocking some fat brown seed pods off the tree. It landed with a loud plop into the water. The ripples reached out to their floating boat.
Gerard groaned louder. “I thought you’d say that.”
“Daddy bought me my Spiderman custom already,” Briley said.
“Amazing or Symbiote?” she asked.
Gerard’s face scrunched into a confused mask.
Briley must have noticed, because he clapped Gerard on the shoulder and very patiently explained that Amazing had bright red and blue colors, and the symbiote suit was covered in black slime from outer space that made Peter Parker kind of crazy.
“Indeed,” Gerard said, then peeked over Briley’s shoulder at Betty with an help-me expression in his eyes.
She covered her mouth to ward off the threatening giggle. But as Briley continued to explain the entire history of Spiderman, and Gerard’s eyes started to glaze, she finally decided to put him out of his misery.
“Monkey butt, time to read. You know you have to get in at least thirty minutes a day.”
“Aww, Aunt Betty, do I have to?” he sighed, and set his lips into a heavy pout, hanging his head.
“Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to read to you.” She crossed her arms. “But only if you brought the adventures of the amazing boy wizard.”
He nodded, and grabbed his book bag, digging around. “Yup. But I want Mr. Gerard to read to me.”
“Non!” Gerard sliced his hand through the air. “I don’t read.”
“Aww, come on,” Briley shoved the massive tome into Gerard’s hand. He pointed midway in the center of the page with his chubby finger. “Chapter 14. I did a lot...,” he stressed the word with a roll of his eyes, “of reading last night. 10 whole pages!”
Betty clapped, but she was no longer smiling. Gerard was staring at the page with a look akin to horror. Even his breathing seemed rapid and hard. He’d done this the other night when she’d shoved her book into his hands.
Briley sighed. “I’ll start then. The friends...” Briley tasted the word, pronouncing each slowly and precisely, stuttering over particularly hard ones.
“Pha... pha—tom...”
Betty peeked. “Phantom.”
“Phantom.” Briley nodded and took a deep breath, half parts relief and half exasperation. “Your turn, Mr. Gerard.” He thrust the book back onto Gerard’s lap.
Briley had taken five minutes to read the first paragraph. In that time a white ring had spread around Gerard’s mouth, and the instant Briley turned the reigns over, the vein in the side of his neck jumped.
Betty chewed on her lip. He couldn’t read. Why hadn’t she picked up on that before? Maybe because the man was plenty smart. She didn’t want to humiliate him, and opened her mouth to tell Briley he must do it, but Briley spoke up first.
He looked at Gerard with a thoughtful look. “You can’t read, can you, Mr. Gerard?”
The muscle in Gerard’s cheek ticked. Betty held her breath, gazing at him, hoping he’d look at her. But he refused to acknowledge her.
Briley’s smile was huge. “I can’t read real good neither. Tell you what, Mr. Gerard, how ‘bout we try my favoritest book ever.” Gently he took the book from Gerard’s tense hands.
Gerard sat silent as stone, blinking and licking his incisors, still refusing to look at her.
Briley pulled another book out and sat it on Gerard’s lap. He opened to the first page and pointed to the word. “My teacher says you gotta taste the sounds.” He puckered his lips. “A little steam engine,” he began, “had a long train of cars to pull.” Briley paused. “It don’t work if you don’t say it with me, Mr. Gerard.”
Swallowing hard, Gerard finally looked down at Briley and repeated his words—slowly, methodically. His mouth forming the letters with hands visibly shaking.
“I think I can,” Briley said.
“I think I can,” Gerard repeated.
“I know you can,” Betty whispered, heart trapped in a throat burning with tears.
––––––––
Her soft body wrapped around his like a warm hug. Gerard hadn’t wanted her in his bed tonight, hadn’t wanted to remember the humiliation of revealing he couldn’t read. Of knowing she viewed him as less than, just like Belle had.
Her breaths were soft on his bare chest, tickling the hairs, and he rubbed her back. He’d not talked the rest of the day and she’d not forced him. After they’d dropped Briley off he’d gutted the trout they’d caught and prepared their dinner in silence. Once they’d eaten, he’d cleared the dishes, and she’d walked off. Betty hadn’t asked him to watch yet another one of her awful Manga cartoons, and he’d left for his room, knowing this night she’d not join him. An hour later he was almost asleep when she crept into his room, pulled the sheets back, and snuggled up to him. That’d been three hours ago.
Why would she come? He was beneath her, intellectually inferior. His chest ached.
“I’m not stupid, Cherie.”
She rolled over. Wide guileless eyes stared at him. “I never thought you were.”
“You’re awake?” he sighed, sitting up when she disentangled herself. He propped his head against the pillow, and stared out the window at the full moon that lit the room in its silvery glow.
She brushed her fingertips against the corner of his lips, forcing him to look back at her. Betty smiled, full lips curving into a sexy tilt, and he clenched his jaw, not wanting to want her. Not wanting to know her anymore.
“I know you’re not stupid,” she said softly.
He shook her hand off. “I never needed to learn. Where I’m from, where I live, it’s not expected and generally frowned upon. A man is to be out hunting, providing for his family. One who sits and reads is considered vain and lazy.”
She shook her head. “Gerard, I’m not judging.”
“She did!” He snapped, shoving his face into hers. In some way wanting to see her eyes fill with fear, wanting her to leave, to run off, to forget he existed. That all the humiliations, one heaped upon another, would cease when she forgot him.
Betty jerked his chin. “I’m not her. I’m Betty Hart. I don’t judge.”
He snarled. “Of course you do. You judged me from the moment you met me.”
“Hey,” she smacked him on the chest, “probably because you were trying to play tonsil hockey with me, makes a girl jumpy.”
He shook his head. “You make no sense.”
She sighed. “Gerard, I didn’t know you. But today, seeing you with Briley, how patient you were, how gentle...”
The pendant on her chest began to glow, bands of deepest indigo swirled like newly cut amethyst in the sunlight, and his pulse jerked hard, blood rushed to his ears. She did not stop talking, did not seem to notice what he’d seen, what had stirred hope like a seedling shooting from within the earth. The pendant still glowed in red and gold, but now there was purple, and the anger abated with the knowledge. Betty was falling in love with him.
Remembering his goal, he channeled his focus, knowing he must forget his anger.
“...you made him feel special. It’s not often he gets to teach a grown up to read. Thank you.” Then she kissed him.
A chaste peck on his cheek, but it was the first time Betty had ever initiated a kiss. Her touch burned fire, and he wanted to rub the spot where her lips had pressed against him.
Black hair tumbled around her pale shoulders like shadow. Like a moth drawn to its glowing demise, Gerard touched the silky strand lying across her breast. She shivered, her mouth parted, and the world around them melted into oblivion.
Gerard wanted to freeze this moment, remember it always. The way her pink belly shirt exposed her navel, how her nipples puckered—presenting themselves like jewels to his waiting mouth. He licked his lips, wishing he could do more than touch her hair.
“Would you like to learn?” she asked, her sultry voice made him tremble.
He nodded, not knowing why he wanted to, only knowing he needed to. Needed to feel whole, needed to feel she saw him as more than an ignorant brute. “Yes, Cherie, I wish to learn.”
––––––––
Betty pointed to the book—at the picture of the little girl smiling at a running dog. “See spot run,” she repeated slowly.
“Dammit,” Gerard growled and flung the book off the kitchen table. “This is stupid.”
Betty sighed and walked to the spot on the floor he dumped the book, she picked it up and opened it again. She wasn’t angry or even annoyed with him. It was humiliating for him—she knew—for her to see him this way. A man like Gerard couldn’t bear her thinking him weak. Not that she saw him that way, but perception was reality, at least in his mind.
“Gerard, it’s how you’ll learn. Trust me. Simple repetition, learning how to properly stress your vowels. It’s how we all learned to read.”
“It’s a kids book. Nursery rhymes. I’m a man,” he pounded his chest. His very bare, naked chest. The man seriously had a thing against clothes.
Then again, when they looked as yummy as he did, clothes were definitely optional. Betty grinned, and patted his hand. He gripped her fingers, giving it a tender squeeze and her heart tilted.
“You put that brilliant mind to good use and hurry up and learn then.” She picked up his mug of tea and took a sip. He narrowed his eyes. They’d fallen into strange habits lately—Betty taking swigs of his breakfast tea, and he eating her leftovers. She kind of liked it—no scratch that—she loved it. Loved seeing him in the morning, cuddling up to him at night, Betty was growing way too used to it, and didn’t want to think about what would happen when their month was up. Thankfully, that wasn’t for another two and half weeks and fourteen hours.
Not like she’d been keeping count or anything.
“I’ve gotta go to work.” She checked her watch. “How do I look?” She twirled, her pastel flower printed dress hugged her calves and made her feel sexy. Lately her wardrobe had taken a huge upswing from jeans and sweaters, to dresses and hip hugging skirts.
He looked her up and down, a slow perusal that made her thighs tingle and her nipples harden.
Gerard smirked. “You are fortunate I cannot drag you to the bedroom, mon petite.”
Stomach taking a serious nosedive, she tripped over her feet and headed to the door. Wishing like hell he could. She wasn’t fortunate at all, because at this point she felt just as cursed as him.
“I’ll be back,” she called over her shoulder, running from him, from the temptation of a forbidden fruit and the very real knowledge that when this was all over, she’d be lucky to have a still beating heart.
His laughter floated behind her.
***
Betty missed him. She kept sneaking glances at the wall clock. Two hours left. She wanted to call, just to hear his voice. But what would she say? ‘I miss you. You’re so hot. Let’s have wild sex.’ Which of course could never happen.
“I swear time goes slower when you keep staring,” Trisha’s sharp voice penetrated through her pity party.
Betty dropped her head into her hands and leaned against the desk. The library was empty. Only one customer in four hours. Why stay open when no one bothered to come anymore?
Or course she shouldn’t think that because this place paid her bills, but seriously.
Trisha’s green gaze bored holes into her skull. Betty pried open an eye, unable to ignore the mile long stare anymore. “Yes?”
Full red lips set into a stern line of disapproval. “Dish. Now.” Trisha planted hands on her hips and tapped her high heeled foot on the carpet. “Who is he, and when did you meet him?”
Hmm... to tell the truth, or not tell the truth, that was the question. Trisha was in a fighting mood, her small hands were balled into tight fists, and a hurt look glinted in the depths of her malachite eyes.
Not truth. Definitely, not truth. Betty stood. “What are you talking about, Trisha?” She pulled a drawer out and rifled through it, pretending to suddenly be in desperate need of a sticky note.
“You are the worst liar in history,” Trisha flattened her hand on the desk, “you know I know, so let’s stop playing, and just tell me. I can’t believe we’ve been best friends for twenty years, and you can’t trust me with this.” Her words were sharp and sliced Betty deep, she winced, knowing she’d been a bad friend.
Betty sighed. “I didn’t tell you because I knew what you’d do.”
“Do what? What can I do when I don’t know anything?” Trisha threw her manicured hands high, shrugging with exaggerated anger.
“I kept him,” Betty whispered, pulling out the yellow sticky note and doodling on the pad, anything to keep from looking up.
“Him?” Trisha questioned, and then sucked in a breath when understanding dawned. “The hottie from the library?”
“Mmm.” Betty bit her lip.
“No you didn’t!” Trisha slapped her arm. “The dude that was all busted up, the French dreamboat that gave me a serious case of—” she stopped talking when Betty glanced sharply at her. Trisha cleared her throat. “That guy?”
Betty rolled her eyes. “Yes, that guy. Now tell me how stupid I am.” She grabbed her throbbing pendant, the thing hadn’t stopped pulsating since the fishing trip yesterday. It was just this side of warm, almost hot against her breast. And she’d noticed in the mirror this morning that it now shone with more threads of purple than red.
“You’re stupid!” Trisha growled. “He could be dangerous.”
“He’s not,” Betty asserted with a swift shake of her head.
“How do you know?” Trisha lowered her voice into a sharp hiss.
The bell above the door pinged as the second customer of the day—an elderly man—walked in and headed straight toward the civil war era section.
Betty waited until he was well out of earshot before answering. “I just do, okay.”
When Trisha got really mad, she’d grab her hair and twist it up into a tight bun. The more tight it got, the madder she was. She wound her hair so tight, her eyebrows pulled back. “Next you’re gonna be telling he’s asked for your hand in marriage.” Narrowing flinty eyes she said, “he hasn’t, has he?”
“No. Jeez, Trish, what do you take me for?” Betty gripped the edge of the desk, while her pulse beat a staccato tattoo in her skull.
“Are you sleeping with him?” Trisha asked the question like an accusation, and Betty’s blood boiled, the one percent threatened to rear its ugly head.
The man appeared for a second, glancing at them with a concerned frown before quickly scooting down another isle.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your damn business,” Betty snapped.
“But it is my business!” Trisha pounded her fist, her words ringing like cannon fire in a still forest.
“Keep your voice down,” Betty pleaded, jerking her head in the direction of the book shelves.
Trisha gulped air until her breathing calmed and then smoothed a hand over her blond head. “You want to know why it’s my business, Betty? I’ll tell you why.” She pointed to her chest. “I can sleep with a man, and it’s not personal. It’s fun. I don’t expect more than that, but you can’t. You sleep with a man and you’re in love. And let’s face it, honey, your track record sucks.”
Betty slapped Trisha’s finger off her. “How dare you? This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d act all stupid, and crazy, and silly. Look, yeah, it wasn’t the smartest thing to take him home with me, but as I recall it you told me to.”
“No.” Trisha’s blood red fingernail drove like a spike through the air. “If you recall, I do believe I said take him to Kelly, or drop him off at the shelter. What part of that did you not understand? The man could be a rapist, a murderer...”
Try none of the above. But Betty couldn’t tell her that, and Trisha wouldn’t believe it anyway. She huffed. “Yes, he could have been. But he’s not. So why do you care? He makes me laugh. He makes Briley laugh. I lo...” She jerked, realizing what she’d almost said.
Trisha’s eyes widened. “Love him? Is that what you were about to say?”
“No,” Betty shook her head, “I like him.”
“That’s not what I heard.” Trisha crossed her arms.
The man came up to the counter with two leather bound books in his hands. His rheumy blue eyes studied the girls. “I could come back later if you’re busy,” he said in the thin, scratchy voice of a man well beyond his prime.
Betty sighed, and plastered on a smile, though inside she wanted to cry. Why couldn’t Trisha just be happy for her? Betty wasn’t going to fall in love with the man, it wasn’t like that. She didn’t have a choice in the matter anyway. Yeah, so she’d almost used the word love. But not love-love, more like the way one loved a favorite pair of shoes, or a puppy.
She took the books, grateful her hands didn’t shake too badly. “No, now is fine. Library card, please?”
He pulled a well-worn card out of his pocket. The picture showed him, maybe ten years younger, with the horseshoe hair, but brownish instead of gray, and without the frizzy tufts poking from his ears. What would Gerard look like when he aged? Would he age? Thoughts scrambled through her head as she checked the man’s books into the computer.
Trisha paced behind Betty’s chair like a restless tiger in a cage, and Betty flashed him an apologetic smile as she handed him back the books. “Due back in a month, Mr. Adams.”
He nodded, grabbed the books, and sprinted as fast as his old legs would carry him out the door. Betty sighed, swiveling in her chair.
Trisha gripped the sides of her chair, pinning Betty in place.
“Listen, sweetie, if you think I’m being mean, I probably am. I miss you. But more than that, I’m worried about you. Can’t you see he’s a rebound guy? And not a good one. Yeah, he’s incredibly delicious, and if I were you I’d probably slather his body in warm chocolate and lick it all off.”
“Oh jeez, you’re so disgusting.” Betty scrunched her face.
“But, I’m telling you now, the man is a pig. A player. He’s another James, except prettier. He’s playing you, girl. He’s having his fun, but I swear to you, he’ll leave. Just like all the rest.”
“You don’t know that,” Betty mumbled.
Trisha smiled softly, stepping back and nodding. “Yes I do, sweetling. Because he’s just like James, just like high school quarterback Carter, and he’s just like me.” Her voice trailed off sadly. She hugged her arms to her chest.
The words were a fist hammering through her heart. She looked at her friend, as if seeing her for the first time. Trisha looked pretty today. Hunter green top and woodland brown pencil skirt—a luscious figure on a petite frame. Compared to her, Betty might as well have been an ogre. Tall and gangly, awkward and a nerd to boot.
“We’re all fun, but zero substance, honey. Just guard your heart, Betty. Promise me. Because when you get hurt, I get hurt, and I don’t want to see my best friend turn into a puddle of crying goo again. Not over a player.” With that, Trisha turned and walked to the back of the library.
Trisha was right. Gerard would leave. Either she fell in love with him, or he’d die. Neither choice was particularly appealing.
If she fell in love, he’d leave. Only she had to love him to save him, he didn’t have to love her back. Which meant his heart was free to beguile and seduce someone else. Someone more like Trisha—perfect, sexy, a blond bombshell—a someone Betty could never hope to be. But if she didn’t love him, they’d kill him. The thought tore Betty’s heart into a million tiny pieces.
Love sucked.
––––––––
“You promise not to laugh?” Betty’s voice came out small behind the bathroom door.
Gerard sat on the bed, drinking his morning brew, breathing in the bitter vapors, anything to try and get more alert. “I’ll promise no such thing, Cherie. Spandex looks awful on anyone.”
“You’re not helping.”
Today was the day he’d been dreading all week. Comic-con. She’d woken him at an ungodly hour, stars still thick and heavy in the sky, with the fevered excitement of a child at Yule. She’d tried her damndest to get him to dress in character too. No chance in hell. Blue jeans and a shirt were good enough for him.
“Just come out, Elliptical,” he growled.
“It’s Eclipse, and I’m not gonna come out unless you’re nice,” her voice trembled.
Gerard chuckled, tapping the side of the ceramic mug with his thumb. “Fine, fine. Come out please.”
The knob turned.
First thing he noticed was a shiny pair of black thigh high boots with heels so high she seemed to tower in the doorway. A black and navy blue cape fluttered behind her, hanging well past her knees.
He swallowed, tongue thick, as his gaze continued the slow slide up. Silvery black spandex covered her torso and chest, reminding him of a bustier. His fingers flexed hard around the ceramic. The top pushed her breasts up and out, her exquisite mounds, plump and firm, and begging for a man’s touch. His touch.
Betty’s hair hung long and loose around her shoulders, framing her heart shaped face. But it was the silk mask tied around her eyes that made his pulse race and knees tremble for want of her. Glowing blue eyes stared back at him from behind the mask, as electric as a hot bolt of lightning. He’d have laughed at the ridiculous circlet on her head, the two circles—one golden, the other black—had it not been for those eyes.
What had she done? What magic had she used? “Your eyes, Cherie?” he said, his voice sounded thick to his ears.
She smiled, and for the first time ever, he noticed a slight dimple curve a sickle shape in her right cheek.
“It’s contacts.” She tossed her head, sending her curls flying behind her. “You like?”
Gerard shot to his feet, gripping the cup like his life depended on it. For a moment, one moment to be free of Galeta’s bloody curse, he’d throw Betty down on the bed and make her sing for him. “I like.”
The heart pendant sparkled deeper shades of Indigo. Did she know? Could she sense the change? Gerard’s only thought was of his freedom, saving his life. He ground his molars—confused if that’s really what he wanted anymore.
He could hardly breathe around the heat of her gaze. The room grew thick and cloying, filled with an impossible tension. Like stepping out in a storm only seconds after a lightning strike—ozone laced air still shivering with raw volts of power.
Betty walked to him, but he couldn’t move. His heart beat a painful rhythm in his chest, demanding he do something, demanding he take control as he’d so often done before. But he wasn’t in control, she stripped him bare, made him forget who he was, what he was. All he knew in that moment, was that Betty was the most divine creation he’d ever seen.
Her fingers grazed his, and for a moment he thought she’d push him down on the bed. But instead she yanked the cup out of his hands and with a saucy wink, drank.
Her throat worked as she swallowed, and he shifted toward her, moving like shaved iron into her magnetic pull. “You know I like that.”
Ruby red lips curled up into a slow smile. “Like what?”
“Your lips and tongue touching the same spot mine did. It’s like a kiss, Cherie.”
The cup visibly shook in her hands, sloshing the drink. “This is coffee,” she said it breathless, voice hitched and strained.
He nodded, stealing the cup back and setting it on the night stand. “I’ve developed a craving.”
“For coffee?” her whisper feathered across his lips like a caress.
Gerard grabbed her face, the softness of her skin like silk against his rough palms. “So soft. Mon ange.” His angel, and she was that. Then there was no more talking, only tasting.
He moved his mouth against hers, the smooth friction made him groan. Her lips were the softest satin. “Open for me, Cherie.”
Betty’s fingers found his shirt, she bunched the fabric in her fists and moaned, it was enough. Gerard licked, tasted, and suckled. Her tongue tasted of mint and coffee—both sweet and bitter. She clawed at his head with the frenzy of a woman desperate for more, he slipped his tongue into the warm recess of her mouth, their tongues dueled. A mating pantomime—each seeking dominance, each expressing with moans and guttural sounds how much they’d longed for this.
Too soon she broke away. Gerard was left panting, his forehead pressed against hers, willing his body to stop trembling.
“Briley,” she said her nephew’s name with a regretful sigh.
Gerard didn’t want to stop touching her, he rubbed his bristly cheek against her smooth one. Betty’s hands crawled under his shirt, her nails scratching lightly at his back, and gods he didn’t want to leave this room. He wanted her all to himself, all day, all night.
But this was important to her.
“This isn’t over, Cherie,” he promised, his thumb tracing the plump swell of her bottom lip. “Not by a long shot.”
***
“I’m Spiderman!” Briley made small shwing sounds, pumping his fist at groups of people, some of whom were dressed in the most ridiculous costumes Gerard had ever seen.
Briley’s was bad enough, black, silver, and white, with a large spider at its center, but even that was preferable to some of the others. There’d been a lime green thing of fur that snarled and limped along on six cloven legs, a fat lizard like tail dragging along behind its enormous ass. Several silver painted bodies, eyes glowing much like Betty’s. But where Betty’s made Gerard hot and eager to touch and fondle, these made him uneasy and flexing his fist with a need to smash in noses, especially when one (a male by the sound of its deep voice) moved in close to Betty and attempted to pat her rear.
That ass belonged to him for the next week, and he’d not allow a soul to fondle it but him.
“Eclipse!” a shrill, highly feminine voice screamed her name.
Betty was bent over a booth, looking at comics when she stilled and turned. Her cape whispering behind her impossibly lean legs, and Gerard desired nothing more than to steal his harpy tongued wench far from the chaotic milieu.
Betty squealed, she then grabbed one of his hands and one of Briley’s, and shoved her way through the crowd to the still waving female headed their way. She dressed similar to Betty—blue and silver cape and black spandex—but her plump form didn’t elicit the same sort of passion for him.
Her chubby face was splotchy and sweaty, green hair frizzed wildly about her head, and the bustier (a size too small) seemed painted on the way it bulged at the seams.
“Nightmare,” Betty said, dropping their hands.
The moment Betty acknowledged the other hero, the plump one dropped to her knee, genuflecting almost fully to the floor, and held her hands out in supplication. “The Bleeding Hearts have gathered, my Queen,” she said solemnly. “We await your directives.”
Gerard snorted, covering his mouth and tried hard not to laugh. Betty turned a hard stare on him, then raked the air with her clawed hand, before turning back to Nightmare.
“Arise, noble hero. Your Queen welcomes you,” Betty modulated her voices an octave deeper, and the sultry sound of it shivered down his spine.
Nightmare stood and grabbing her face, Betty rubbed noses with her.
“Ms. Lydia,” Briley squealed after the apparent ceremony finished.
Lydia (Gerard refused to even think of her as nightmare anymore) grabbed Briley in a tight hug and ruffled his head, even though his hair was covered by a full mask. “Heya, squirt. Havin’ fun?”
Briley nodded and sought Gerard’s hand. “Mr. Gerard bought me lots of candy and we saw Xena and Lady DragonSpell and I got to take a picture with Spiderman!”
Gerard stiffened, glancing at the boys chubby fingers within his own. Betty sucked in a sharp breath, her hands over her mouth. Gerard’s eyes grew wide, knowing something had just happened, but not understanding what.
But Lydia leaned in to whisper, killing the moment. “You should know, Eclipse, the Rockers have a booth next to ours. The bastards...”
“There is a child present,” Gerard growled, feeling oddly protective of Briley, an astonishing thing considering he’d never particularly been fond of kids. Though he found he kind of liked this one.
Betty again whipped around to face him, this time a smile crooked her lips.
“Oh my bad.” Lydia zipped her lips. “Sorry, squirt.”
For his part, Briley seemed completely oblivious as he happily sucked away at a lollipop he’d dug out of his bag. He’d pushed his mask half way up, it now bunched around his cheeks, his lips were coated with the red candy.
Betty pulled some wet wipes from her pocket to clean up his face, and then gestured for Lydia to lead the way. Gerard barely held his groan in check. Were it not for the fact that Betty looked damnably delicious in the costume, he’d demand they head back home now. He hated the crowds, hated this world, and wanted her attention all to himself.
They walked to a booth well in the back of the monstrously large building, a gaggle of silver and blue bedecked ‘heroes’ gathered around it, reminding Gerard of a flock of geese. Some short, tall, fat, slim—but all deferring to Betty. Bowing and pontificating about how wonderful it was to see her, and ‘all hail the Queen’, then they each took turns rubbing noses. Honestly, Gerard found the entire affair ridiculous, but he couldn’t deny watching her smile and laugh flooded his body with a warmth that ripped through him like a spear.
“Mr. Gerard,” Briley looked up at him, the candy dangled from his hands. “I’m tired.”
He sighed. “Me too, garcon.” Spying a row of white fold up tables, he pointed. “Let’s sit.”
The moment they sat, Briley went back to sucking his candy, and Gerard watched her. What was happening to him? Acting like a girl the way his eyes constantly sought her out, watching her every move like a man entranced. Pulse quickening when she laughed, when even the tinkle of her laughter reached his desperate ears.
Drumming his fingers on the table, he shook his head. The pendant had very little crimson in it now. She was falling for him, but it still wasn’t enough. Because no matter how much he wanted to slide his shaft deep into her willing, hot body, he couldn’t harden. If he couldn’t harden, she didn’t love him, and if she didn’t love him, he’d die.
One week. T’was all they had left. What more could he do? What hadn’t he done? He cooked for her, listened to her, watched her repulsive cartoons, and still something inside her resisted him. Should he attempt a seduction? Would that push her over the top?
“Do you love, Aunt Betty?” Briley’s small voice broke his musings.
“What?” he growled, staring down at the boy.
Briley licked his lollipop. “I said—”
“I know what you said, boy,” Gerard snapped, grabbing his pounding skull.
“Then why did you ask me to repeat myself?” Briley rolled his eyes and gave him a goofy grin.
Gerard snorted, it was very hard to stay aggravated with the boy. He was completely unfazed by anger. “It’s not as simple as that, garcon.”
“Yes, it is.” He nodded and snatched his hood off. The sweaty strands of his blond hair stuck to his forehead. “I love her.” He shrugged. “Easy.”
Briley’s fingers glistened with pink stickiness. On the next table an almost empty bottle of water sat alone. Gerard snatched up a napkin, and uncorking the bottle, wet the tip of the napkin. Whoever left their water shouldn’t have.
He cleaned the boy’s hands.
“I like her,” Gerard reluctantly admitted, and shifted on his seat. Saying it, acknowledging it, didn’t help his dilemma. It only made it worse. Because he would still leave. He had to. She was of Earth, he of Kingdom. What if she didn’t like it there? He couldn’t stay in Earth forever, he loved his world, and whoever he wound up with had to love it too. What if she didn’t want him?
He frowned, the thought making him rough as he rubbed harder at Briley’s hands, using yet more water to get the worst of the mess off.
“You’re going to leave aren’t you?”
Gerard stopped, and turned his face to the boy’s. Clever brown eyes studied him, not the eyes of a dullard, but a human who saw more than others would, or could, ever know.
“Who told you that?” he growled.
Briley shrugged, yanking his hands back and licking what Gerard hadn’t taken off. “Because you didn’t say it.”
Gerard wadded up the disgusting napkin and tossed it into the garbage. When he looked back at her, it was to see her smiling at him. His heart clenched, like an ogre had taken a ham fist and smashed it in. He jerked and turned away.
“Who are you?” A rough masculine voice pierced his skull.
Gerard looked up. A massive beast of a human—muscles bulging on top of muscles—stared down at him from behind a full mask. Green eyes, like deepest moss, pinned him hard to the chair. Blond hair hung long and loose down the things back.
“I said, who are you? What class do you belong to?”
Gerard had heard the greeting all day. Though not directed at him. Dressed as he was, he might as well have been invisible in this circus of freaks.
The Green thing (as it was dressed entirely in green from its patent leather boots, to its green halter top) flattened a work roughened palm against his chest. Then the voice turned husky, throaty.
“Only the guild can walk these halls, mortal.” Blunt fingers walked up his chest, toward his neck. “State your business. Or...” the voice hit an octave lower, going even more throaty. Was this creature attempting to seduce him? Bloody hell. “Have you come to visit, Gargantuan?”
Full red lips curved into a large grin.
Gerard couldn’t decide whether he spoke to a male, female, or a creature of Kingdom itself. He’d never encountered anything so masculine and yet at the same time, feminine.
He narrowed his eyes. Betty had taught him much of her language. “Notta chance,” he said calmly.
“Mmm. Really. Never heard of you, Notta.” The fingers traced his jaw, sexual light flared hot and bright from Gargantuan’s eyes. “What is your guild?”
“In hell.”
The hands stopped moving. “Get out of here, only heroes are wanted back here, puny mortal!”
Betty’s hands clapped onto his back. “He is my slave, Gargantuan. You are not to molest my toy.” Her voice cut like a blade, breathing hard Gargantuan looked between him and Betty and then stomped off.
Betty’s laughter was a balm to his rattled nerves, she kissed his cheek nonchalantly, and then flew to Briley’s side and did the same. Her kiss excited Gerard, sizzled electric, rocked him to his core and pissed him off all at the same time. Gerard didn’t like this, didn’t like wanting her in this way. As a dying man desperate for water.
“That was hilarious, Gerard,” Betty’s electric blue eyes touched off a firestorm in his blood. “I’ve never seen her so pissed! I’ll remember that forever, stupid Gargantuan, always throwing her big, fat weight around. Serves her right.”
Briley frowned. “You said a bad word, Mr. Gerard.”
“Sometimes a bad word is the only thing you can say, Briley.” Gerard grumbled, but it was impossible to resist Betty’s teasing light, or Briley’s infectious laughter. Gerard laughed, and for the next two hours forgot just how badly he wanted to maim something.
***
Betty curled around him. The room danced with shadow, starlight shone in the navy canvas of sky, and Gerard felt his world closing in on him. He’d read to her for hours, his throat raw from repeating over and over stupid nonsensical phrases of ‘See Spot Run’ and ‘Run Jane Run’... though he knew his abilities were improving, it was slow and irksome all the same. And though the very notion of cuddling had induced a riot of bile in his gut before, he found this was the part of their day he most enjoyed.
“That was fun today,” she said, her smile evident in her tone.
He rubbed her back and she moaned. “Glad you thought so. I found it a detestable act of nature.”
“Oh, it wasn’t that bad,” she giggled and sat up, her warm brown eyes seared him, and his heart clenched. Her skin was so silky soft, so smooth, sliding along his hairy one. He squeezed his eyes.
“Why do you work in a library, Cherie?”
She tilted her head. “Where did that question come from?” Her fingers framed his face.
“You’re so smart. You have a degree. I know what that means. Why are you stuck here? Why do you work for so little, when you could have so much more?”
She thought for a moment and then smiled. “Briley. That’s the simple answer. When Kelly got divorced I knew he’d need help. Our parents died years ago, we only have each other. He needed me and I came.” She shrugged.
Why could he not find one flaw in the woman? Why was everything about her so good, so nice? It would be so much easier to leave if there were even one thing wrong. “Didn’t it make you angry? To be forced to put your life on hold? Resentful?”
She shook her head. “It hurt. I worked hard to get that degree. But all I’ve got to do is look in Briley’s wide guileless eyes and I know I did the right thing. I’d do it again.”
She said it so matter of factly, and he knew he’d never be half as good as her. Hadn’t been. Gerard was a beast, a man who got what he wanted, when he wanted it, and he wanted her. Now.
“Tell me about your world, Gerard,” she asked hesitantly.
He sighed, knowing for some time this conversation would happen. “What do you wish to know?”
She smiled. “Do you know the Beast?”
He growled. “Dog face, oui, I know him. Next time I see the arrogant bastard I’ll punch him in the face.”
She laughed. “Okay, let’s not talk about dog face then. Who else do you know?”
Gerard thought of the bad five. She might as well know the crowd he ran with. “I’m particular friends with Hook, Jinni, Hatter...”
Her eyes widened. “Oh man, that’s awesome, tell me more!”
Gerard chuckled at her child-like enthusiasm, and wanting to continue seeing her smile, told of some of their raunchier exploits. Betty cried with laughter at some of Hook’s debauchery, winced in sympathy at Wolf’s unfortunate problem, and sighed happily when he’d told her of Hatter’s successful mating. They talked for hours, and the more they talked, the more aware Gerard became of her. The way she sighed, how she would unknowingly curl closer to him, how her tiny hands touched him constantly, her scent, her warmth—Betty Hart flooded his senses and his mind, and he could no longer remember stories.
“Betty,” he said, urgency lending a hint of violence to her name.
She shivered, as if sensing his mood. “Yes?”
“I need you.” The words tore from his soul. Vulnerable, exposed, Gerard sat up, pushing her away. “I cannot touch you each night, and pretend it isn’t so. I want to slip inside you, Cherie. I want to lick you, touch you,” make love, he refused to say the last.
Her eyes widened, as her breathing grew ragged. “I want that too,” she admitted softly.
With a groan, Gerard rolled on top her. Grabbing her by the waist, digging his fingers into her firm flesh, he pulled on her blouse with an impatient tug until her breasts popped free.
Her moans spurred him on.
She had the most amazing breasts. His hands shook a little as he traced the swell of each one. Pink tipped nipples poked like tiny daggers into the air. Leaning down, he blew a moist breath across one tip. The darkened skin puckered and her legs spread. Gerard lay between her spread legs, even through her shorts, the warmth of her body speared his.
He trembled, never remembering a moment he’d ever felt this wild, this crazy with wanting.
“Gerard,” she moaned. “But I thought...”
“Shut up, harpy,” he moaned and dipping his mouth, suckled her nipple. The sweet jewel tickled the roof of his mouth and he groaned at the salty, flowery scent of her nude skin. His tongue swirled and danced over and over, head dizzy and swimming with thoughts of Betty.
Only Betty.
His beautiful, harpy-tongued shrew.
She rocked on him. “Oh yes,” she moaned, “so good. Love...”
Gerard smashed his lips on her mouth, cutting off the lie. Knowing it for what it was because his cock was still a limp noodle. He didn’t want lies, he wanted truth. Just this once, just this night.
He coaxed her mouth open with his tongue, slipping in when she parted on a tiny pant. His hand slid down her flat belly, slipped under her shorts and found the wet center of paradise.
She grunted, pushing down, and he couldn’t think anymore. Gerard slipped a finger in.
“Harder,” she shoved down.
He slipped in another digit, stretching her, filling her. Wishing it was his cock, and not his damn fingers. Her earthy scent tickled his nose. He inhaled deeply letting it fill his lungs. “Mon belle, mon belle,” he murmured.
Her nails scored his back, but it felt good. So damn good. He pumped harder, and she writhed on him. “So good,” she cooed, and then her body seized, and a delirious expression wreathed her face.
Her soft center rolled with her orgasm, squeezing his fingers as her rocking slowly subsided. She laughed, kissing his chest, his neck, his face. But he wasn’t done with her, not by a long shot.
Gerard pushed her shoulders back onto the mattress.
“Gerard?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“Open your legs, mon belle,” he said, voice thick with his need.
Her breathing stuttered, but she dropped her legs open, and with a deft flick of his wrists, slipped her small shorts off. The sight of her swollen pink nub made his head reel. He touched her with just the tip of her finger and she surged up in response.
“Gerard...”
Breathing hard, Gerard bit and nibbled his way up her thigh until he reached the apex of her pleasure. “Betty,” was all he could choke out before he drew her nub into his mouth and sucked hard.
She screamed, her thighs immediately clamped to the sides of his face. Gerard pulled harder, a low aching spiraled through his gut, made him woozy and weak. He wanted this woman, wanted to slam his cock into her slick warmth, and never come out again.
He rolled her nub around his tongue. Her scent flooded his mouth, better than any wine. She tasted of tart strawberries.
“Oh, Gerard,” she moaned over and over, making his blood heat to a fevered frenzy.
Her thighs shook, and he lapped at her like a cat with cream, then he shoved two fingers back inside her and flexed so that his fingers massaged the center of her pleasure, and she yelled his name as she ground her hips hard against his face.
Moaning, twisting, she pumped on him up and down. Her thighs shook violently, but he didn’t dare move, accepting her gift, only wishing her could give her so much more.
After what seemed an eternity, she flung her hand across her face and laughed, pain flooded his testicles and he hissed, needing desperately to relieve the ache of being pent up for so long. But relief would not be his, and the reminder of the curse pissed him off, cleared the fog of lust, and brought with it an agony of searing pain.
“Gerard, that was...”
He jerked back, and with a withering glare, stalked to the bathroom, shutting the door. Shutting her out.
He slammed his fist against the wall. His flaccid cock offered him no release. His blood sang, his head swam, and the throbbing was excruciating. His balls were tight orbs against his body, pulsing hot and hard down his legs, making him weak in the knees.
“Gerard,” her soft voice echoed hollowly through the door.
Gnashing his teeth, he slammed his fist into the wall again. He wanted her. She’d called him her slave earlier, and gods he was. He hated himself. Hated her.
“Go away, Betty. Just go the hell away.”
––––––––
Betty stuck a book on a shelf.
“Betty! Wrong shelf, for like the thousandth time!” Trisha snapped Betty from her mournful thoughts.
“What?” She frowned.
“This is a medical reference book,” Trisha dangled the red hardbound book in front of Betty, malachite eyes bright with annoyance, “so why the hell are you putting it in with the Encyclopedias?”
Eyes burning, throat working hard not give in to the tears threatening to let loose, Betty could only stare.
Trisha’s eyes grew wide. “Betty?”
The question in her name tipped her over, and leaning against a bookshelf she covered her eyes. “He’s leaving, Trisha. It’s all over tomorrow.”
Trisha grabbed Betty’s arms. “He dumped you?” she snarled. “That low down, worthless pathetic...”
“No,” Betty shook her head, “no, he didn’t dump me. I just, I can’t even. Oh Trisha, I’m falling for him hard and fast, and I can’t stop this, and I don’t want to.” She stared at her friend, knowing her eyes were blood shot.
Since the night Gerard had given her the best orgasm of her life, he’d been ignoring her. Refusing her entrance to his bed at night, refusing to let her even touch him. He still cooked for her, but left her food on the counter, no longer eating with her.
Betty didn’t know what she’d done wrong. She’d tried to talk with him several times, but he would turn cold and distant, and she refused to humiliate herself further. But if he wouldn’t talk to her, she couldn’t help him, and why she even still wanted to... let her know just bad she had it for him.
“I don’t understand then,” Trisha’s lips turned down in a plump frown.
Betty gave her a weak smile, and wiped up the tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just... he’s got to go home, and I’ll probably never see him again.”
Trisha’s lips tipped. To her credit she never once told Betty I-told-you-so, just enfolded her in her warm arms, and patted her back. “I’ve got a date tonight. We’re headed to Charley’s. Why don’t you guys come?”
“I’ll ask him,” Betty sniffed, knowing he’d say no.
***
The moment the front door opened, Gerard shot to his feet. He’d sat in her favorite arm chair in total dark thinking all day long, longing for her return. He was an ass, he’d ignored her for days, and not because he wanted to. But because being near her was a pain beyond any he’d ever known. She still didn’t love him, and that bothered him, not because it meant he’d die, but because it meant she didn’t feel for him what he did for her.
If all he had was tonight, then he’d enjoy it.
She stood in the door, and his greedy gaze devoured her luscious form. The tan pencil skirt hugged her slim hips, the white shirt outlined every beautiful, perfect curve of her body.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and she stuttered.
He frowned as her face scrunched up. Then she was sobbing, great heaving cries that gripped his soul. Betty ran to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled him. She was warm, and smelled of vanilla, of flowers, and...
“Cherie, I’m so, so sorry.” The words trembled from his soul.
He let her cry, patting her back until her heaving wracks slowed down and her breathing became calm.
“Me too,” she finally whispered.
Gerard grabbed her fingers, kissing each one. “Non, me petite Cherie. I’m a huge ass and do not deserve your tears.”
She hiccupped, hypnotic brown eyes holding his fast. “But, but... you’re still not free. I feel so much for you. I burn for you, ache for you, and you’re still not free.”
He rubbed his knuckles along her velvet cheek. “This is enough.”
She smiled, and he returned it, though his heart ached and shattered in his chest. Tonight was all they had left.
“Trisha wants to go out for drinks,” Betty said, “I don’t want to stay out long, but maybe—”
He kissed her lips, wanting to linger on them, savor them. But now was not that time. Tonight, when the world was all theirs, then he’d show her and tell her what she meant to him.
“Yes, petite. Let’s go.”
Three hours later, they were laughing. Country music lingered in the background as around them dancers swayed and groups talked. Betty nursed the same glass of white wine. His little featherweight. Her laugh was free of the cloud of pain, of the heartache sure to face them in the morning. Trisha’s date was an engaging sandy haired man who seemed wild about the waifish blond. But Gerard was having a hard time focusing. He chugged his fourth tankard of beer and sighed. He wanted to take his woman home, tell her finally how he really felt.
“Let’s dance,” Trisha touched Bill... Bob’s... Harry’s?... (whatever his name was) arm. They left, leaving Gerard and Betty alone, finally.
He knuckled her cheek, needing to touch her. She sighed, leaning into him. “You want to go home?” he asked.
Funny how he now thought of that two bedroom place his, no longer could he see it as a prison. Wherever she was, he was home. Simple as that.
She nodded, brown eyes growing liquid with an unnamed emotion that made his chest ache.
Just as they stood to go say their good-bye’s to Trisha, a female shoved into Betty shoulder. At first Gerard thought her a drunkard wobbly on her feet. But when Betty’s eyes widened and she sucked in a hard breath, he tensed up.
“Gretchen?” Betty’s voice was sharp. “What the hell do you want?”
“You know your girl’s a whore, right?” The red headed woman with the most enormous pair of breasts he’d ever seen leaned around her shoulder to look at him. “She’s been sleeping with my fiancé.”
He recognized the caustic shrill tone of that voice, and instantly his nails dug into the palm of his hands. If she wasn’t a woman, he’d punch her. He pushed Betty behind him. “You’re the, chienne, always calling. Stay the hell away from her.”
Her blue eyes scrunched up. “The who what?” her country accent grated on his nerves, and he hated the woman, hated looking at her, hated having to share a space with her.
“Do not call. Do not talk to her. Do not,” he shoved his face right up to hers, “even look at her. She is mine!”
The woman’s jaw trembled, then a man came and slipped his arm around her shoulders.
“What’s going on?” he growled, then his eyes widened. “Betty?”
“James.” She stepped out from behind Gerard’s back and sneered. “Why don’t you warn your little dog away from me.”
“Aww,” he grinned, and Gerard’s gut clenched as the blood rushed to his head in a red haze, “she don’t mean nuthin’ by it. Do you, G?” He chucked Gretchen’s jaw, and she grinned, popping a piece of gum, seeming more confident now that her man was in the picture.
James looked at Gerard, his upper lip curled. “Who’s this?” he jerked his chin at him.
Gerard closed his eyes, on the verge of pummeling the man. His anger so hot it oozed off him.
“Screw you, James,” Betty grabbed Gerard’s hand. “Let’s go, baby.”
His heart tripped at her endearment. She’d never called him anything other than Gerard, occasionally pig, or bastard. Never baby, never something so obviously loving.
And he might have forgotten James and his slut, if James hadn’t grabbed Betty’s elbow, jerking her to a stop.
“Hey, you can’t even talk to an old friend?” he snapped, and Gerard didn’t think.
He slammed his fist into the bastard’s face. Hot blood oozed from the crunched nose, and James dropped to the ground with a shriek. “He punched me!” he squalled, sounding like a pathetic baby crying for its maman.
A large man walked up to them, his arms crossed over his barrel chest, lips thin as he glared at Gerard.
Betty stood in front of Gerard. “We’re leaving. No worries.” She yanked on Gerard’s hand and walked outside. The moment the cold blast of night hit him in the face, she shoved him against the wall and laughed, a deliriously joyous sound that shivered across his skin.
“His face, did you see it?” Her brown eyes sparkled. She grabbed Gerard’s face and leaned in, planting a soft kiss on his lips. His legs grew weak and he tightened his hold on her waist, wanting to slip inside with his tongue, tasting and nipping at her delicious lower lip. Her breathing was a feather soft kiss on his lips. “I love you, Gerard Caron.”
The moment she said it, the pendant blazed deepest amethyst, there was no red, no gold, it was solid purple. He peppered her brow with kisses, her lips.
“Betty Hart,” he said.
“One month’s up. You are mine, Gerard!” Galeta’s sharp voice exploded around them, then a blue hole tore through the air, and a phantom hand yanked on Gerard’s collar, stealing him back to Kingdom.
“No! Gerard stay!” Betty cried.
He reached for her. “Betty, I lo...” But he never finished the thought, and she never heard what he said, as he was sucked into the vacuum of space.
He rolled head over feet, over and over, at a dizzying, alarming speed. Lights flashed by in a blur, and then his face smacked into something hard and all breath left him on impact. It took a moment for the stars to clear from his vision.
“Stand, Gerard,” Galeta’s gruff voice pierced his throbbing head.
“He cannot stand,” Danika’s gentle words, hovered above his head, “he’s in shock.” A gentle swell of fairy magic netted him in warmth, lifting the fog, the pain, and giving him the strength to stand.
Danika’s smile was crooked and strained, but her eyes glistened with joy, and he knew he’d passed the test. But instead of joy, he felt only pain.
He was in the fairy hall of justice. The checkered tile glistened alternating shades of onyx and mother of pearl. The head fairies sat behind an imposing polished bench of speckled marble, the room glowed a deep hued magenta, radiance that emanated from within the fairies themselves.
Galeta cleared her throat. He looked up and she waved the still glowing pendant. “You have passed,” and the way she said it, she was none too happy about it. “You are free.” The moment the words left her lips, a rush of heat centered on his cock, and like a cork popping free of a bottle, he sprang to life. His cock became thick and painfully hard for his woman, his Betty.
Galeta snarled. “Well go!” She jerked her head. “But know this, Caron, I’m watching.”
He shook his head. “Non. You owe me a gift.”
She curled her lip. “I owe you nothing.”
“Non?” he lifted his brows, looking at the silver haired fairy to Galeta’s right, “should I tell them of your breach of magic then?”
Nina the White jerked and looked at Galeta. The silver of her eyes turned a creamy spiraling white as she gazed through her third eye—her spirit eye—at Galeta. “Sister?”
Esmeralda the Green’s voice mimicked her sister’s, her voice rang with the strain of bells. Green vines crawled from the tip of her green wand, inching slowly toward a visibly shaking Galeta. The thorns of justice would be all the fairies would need to convict Galeta of improper use of magic. But Gerard was no longer interested in revenge, all he wanted was his Betty, but he needed something first, and he wouldn’t leave here without it.
“So?” he narrowed his eyes. “Have we a deal?”
Danika gripped her wand, worrying her bottom lip, and jerking her gaze back and forth between him and the tribunal.
Galeta’s thin lips compressed into a hard line. “What is it?” she asked between clenched teeth.
“I want you to make me the mate.”
Nina the White sucked in a sharp breath. “Think long and hard what you ask for, Gerard Caron. For once the soul is bound it can never be unbound.”
He held his chin high. There were no doubts, she loved him, that’s all he wanted. “I know what I ask, fee. I want my soul, and my life forever bound to hers.”
Esmeralda turned her black alien like eyes on him. “So mote it be.”
The air shivered with the use of such powerful magic as the tiny fairy covered in vines glided down toward him. “Your heart is pure, Gerard, your wish is granted.”
In an instant Danika grew to human height and threw her arms around Gerard’s waist. “I knew it, boyo. Knew she was the one. Did I not say?”
Gerard’s grin was proud, grateful. “Oui, fee. You knew.” He hugged her back.
She stepped back, her blue eyes twinkled with joy. Patting his cheek with a motherly fondness she said, “I must needs be off. I’ve a wolf to satisfy. But I wondered if you could give Betty a message for me.”
Gerard tilted his head. “What?”
Danika smiled, her form became vaporous as a glowing blue tunnel spun behind her. “Tell her to tell Trishelle I said hi, and I’ll be seeing her very soon.” And with those cryptic words, she vanished.
***
Three months later and Betty still cried herself to sleep sometimes. She’d hoped and waited, expecting stupidly Gerard would return for her, would return to confess his love. She’d known, even as he’d slipped through the tunnel, that he’d meant to say those words back. Had seen them trembling on his tongue.
She loved him. The pendant had glowed, he was free, which meant he’d left, just like Trisha said he would. Just like she’d known he would.
She drank tea at her kitchen table, hating that she’d developed a taste for it, and using a red sharpie to circle yet another potential roommate in the paper. She couldn’t live alone anymore, come home to the unbearable silence of an empty house. He’d spoiled her in so many ways.
She glanced at her half eaten plate of frozen waffles and sighed.
Betty had an appointment in another ten minutes, a girl in college. They’d talked over the phone, and the references were good, at this point, she didn’t much care. She should get out of her robe, the girl was gonna arrive any second now.
Pushing away from the table, she walked to her bedroom when the doorbell rang. “Dammit,” she looked down at her scrubby robe. She turned back. If it was a guy, she’d change, but she just didn’t feel like it now. She had a hot date with a Hagaan Daaz after the appointment, and he sure didn’t care.
Betty opened the door and then screamed when Gerard’s smiling face looked back at her. She slammed the door, trying to close it on him, he shoved it open.
“Cherie, hear me out.”
“Screw you!” She stomped back to her room.
He swung the door shut and ran after her. “Betty, wait.”
“Why?” She stopped and turned, fists clenched tight by her sides, knowing if she didn’t... she’d clock him. All the anger, pain, humiliation, and angst bubbled to the surface at once and she was dizzy with it all. “I told you I loved you, and you bailed out on me. Now three months later...”
“Three months?” He forked fingers through his hair and her heart flipped, why couldn’t he have at least been uglier than she remembered? His face was still as drool worthy as ever, the five o’clock shadow scruffy and framing a jaw seeming chiseled from granite. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, then he groaned, slapping a hand over his face.
He grabbed her hand, leading her to her room. Betty dug in her heels, trying to push his iron grip off her wrist. “If you think you’re gonna get lucky now, buddy—”
He grinned, and the flip in her stomach was almost physical pain.
“I will get lucky, Cherie. Very lucky.” He bit his lip, and she tried to smack him. He swatted her hand away as if she were no more than a pesky nuisance. “One day in Kingdom is one mortal month on Earth. We’ve very long days, petite.”
They were in her room now. Gerard closed the door and locked it, the sound like the boom of gunshot in her ears, and she swallowed hard. Then his large hands were on her robe, slipping the sides down and she moaned.
“You can’t just come in and out of my life like this and expect...”
“Shhh.” He pressed his warm finger to her lips. “You talk too much, harpy.” Then his lips covered hers and with a tiny moan of desperation she returned it, pouring her hate and her need into it, tasting his lips, his tongue. Her tears mingled in their kiss.
He pulled back, frowning. “Mon belle, mon belle,” he traced the line of tears falling free from her eyes.
Her heart broke hearing him call her his beauty, all she’d wanted for three months was to hear his sultry French tenor whisper love in her ears, and now that he was here, it hurt so bad. Opened everything up, all the wounds that’d finally started to heal were once again fractured and cracked.
“I brought these.” He lifted his hand, and she gave a quick sob. Her still glowing pendant chain dangled from his hand, along with another one. Similar, except the other pendant was in the shape of a square. Less feminine, but definitely a matching set. But where hers was purple, his was the familiar red and gold color of before.
She grabbed her pendant, the hearts warmth almost seeming to pump in her grip like a real heart, warmth seeped into her palm. Betty looked at him. “I don’t understand.”
The sultriness was gone from his eyes, truth—unvarnished and raw—stared back at her. “This is the mate. If I put this chain around my neck, and you do the same with yours,” he handed her the chain, “our souls will be bound. You will never age, you will never die, your mortality will be forever striped from you.”
Her hands shook as she stared down at the pumping, beating heart.
He covered her hands with his. “This is what took me so long to come back. Galeta didn’t want to. She procrastinated the entire time...”
Her entire frame trembled. “Gerard?”
He stopped talking, his eyes were large, and she sensed his nerves. She’d never seen him like this, so vulnerable. It made her want him more.
“Are you talking marriage?”
His jaw clenched. “I’m talking much more than that, Cherie.” He forked twin fingers through his hair, reminding her oddly of the man she’d seen that first day in the library. Disheveled, slightly devilish, and incredibly alluring. “I know what I ask might be overwhelming, frightening even. But I swear to you, my love, I’ve never felt like this before. You’re it. And I’ll prove that to you if I must...”
Betty shushed him with her finger, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “You talk too much.”
He grinned, taking a nip at her finger. His bite shot warmth straight between her legs, heating her blood to a fevered frenzy. The anger melted into something full and impossible and so deep she knew she was drowning, but didn’t care.
“May I?” he asked, easing the necklace from her hands and unclasping it.
She grabbed his and did the same. “Yes.”
They put the necklaces on each other, the moment the heart touched her chest it flared to life and burnt her skin. She hissed and Gerard trembled.
“My life with yours...” he said, and then the red of his pendant flared crimson for the briefest moment before completely being overtaken by purple. Swirling veins of glittering sapphire skated through the lava like movement of color. “Forever.”
The pain in her chest vanished, and when she looked at her pendant, it too glowed with ribbons of blue. He grabbed her face. “You’re mine. Forever.”
She smiled, and was pretty sure she’d never be able to stop now that she’d started. “How old are you?”
A devilish grin curled his lips. “Old. Ancient.” He leaned in so close she tasted the mint of his breath. “You’re stuck with me now, Cherie. So long as I live, you live.”
But then she stopped thinking, because he scooped her up, walked to the bed and laid her down, his hard body sliding along hers. It took only seconds for him to bare her skin to his touch. His eyes burned hot on her body as he looked her up, then down.
He licked his lips. “Hungry, Cherie. I’m starving.”
Empowered, she thrust her chest up and sucked in her stomach, assuming—what she hoped to be a sexy pose—and beckoned him with a curled finger. “I’m waiting, Caron. And I hate waiting.”
She laughed as he literally tore himself out of his clothes. His body was magnificent, lean and hard. But it was his manhood, the piece of him she’d seen soft for so long, standing hard and ready that made her mouth water.
“I’m sorry, Cherie,” he moaned, crawling on top of her. “Fast now. I must feel you.”
She was so wet, her thighs were already soaked, the moment he slid into her body she squeezed her pelvis down around him. Betty was home, in his arms. Gerard kissed her, pumping hard, twisting his hips in an infinity motion, hitting her G-spot over and over.
Betty cried out, her legs jerked, as her entire world faded to black. “I’m so close, baby,” she grunted, and with one last shove, they howled in unison, falling into the hardest orgasm she’d ever known.
Then it was her turn to show him how much she loved and needed him. She pushed him onto his back, much the way he’d done her so long ago, and took his still hard cock fully into her mouth, still tasting herself on him. He moaned long and hard, his large hand framing the back of her head as she pumped up and down, humming low in the back of her throat.
“Cherie, my love. My heart,” he murmured a constant stream of endearments, his hips flexing into her mouth. His smooth skin like satin on her tongue, and then his body stiffened. “I come, my love.”
Betty took all of him. The taste was salty, but sweet. Not bad. She smiled and he grinned.
“Turn over,” he commanded, and her eyes widened.
“You’re not too tired?”
He laughed. “I’m not like one of your mortal men, Betty. I’m the best lover you’ll ever have.”
She shivered at his words and flipped over, her heart beating uncontrollably in her chest as he slipped into her still slick warmth from behind, pumping hard. Their sweaty bodies slapping together loud in the quiet of their room. Her body tingled with fire, with heat and Betty screamed when the final orgasm rocked her. The fullness of him stretching her from behind made the orgasm seem to last forever. Then he turned her over and cradled her, whispering in French in her ear. She was his beloved, his love, his lover, his everything. Kissing her cheeks, her neck, his hot tongue dancing across first one breast then the next. Betty had never felt more in love, or more loved, and he worked his magic, her tired body came to life for him again.
He made love to her throughout the night. Soft and slow, hard and fast. She tasted him, he tasted her and neither one came up for air until hunger finally drove them apart.
Betty cuddled into his side after downing a full pint of coffee ice cream, she smiled as he rubbed her back. She’d never felt so spent, so wonderfully in pain in her life. Tomorrow would be impossible to walk, but she couldn’t even muster up an iota of care. She was a contented kitten lapping at a bowl of cream. Life was good.
His heart beat a steady song in her ears, lulling her to sleep.
“Oh, I forgot,” Gerard said. He gave her a tiny shake.
Betty glanced up at him and couldn’t resist tracing the lines of his stubbled jaw. “Hmm...”
“Danika asked me to tell you ‘hi’ and to please tell Trishelle she’d be seeing her soon.”
Betty scooted to her knees, her eyes bugging as she wrapped the sheet around her breasts.
Gerard frowned. “What, Cherie?”
She laughed. “Oh man, that’s hilarious!”
His lips quirked. “Do share?”
She planted a kiss on his lips, even knowing they had forever, she didn’t think she’d ever get tired of her brutish man. He was so perfect for her, so wonderful, and love settled deep roots into the soil of her heart. “Trisha’s going to be set up with one of your boys.”
It took him a second to think it through. “Non.”
She nodded. “Oh yeah. Definitely. Which one do you think? Jinni?”
Gerard’s crooked grin had her toes curling. “Non, he prefers dark meat.”
“Wolf?” she scrunched her nose, trying to imagine her impetuous friend doing the nasty with a shape-shifting werewolf.
Gerard snorted, his fingers gently caressed her shoulder. “I’d imagine Red would have something to say about that.”
They gasped at the same time. “Hook!”
“Oh my gosh, poor Trisha,” Betty giggled, only imaging how impossible that awful pirate would be.
Then she had another thought. “Gerard?” She grabbed her pendant.
“Hmm?” His fingers stroked her lower.
“Now that I’m with you, can I visit Kingdom?”
His smile was huge. “Would you like to?”
She nodded. “I’ve always wanted to see Neverland.”
He scoffed. “My hamlet is infinitely better to Neverland. Anytime you want, Cherie, tell me. Danika can take us between realms. I’d love to show you my home.” His blue eyes blazed. “Our home.”
Her heart trembled and she nodded. “Though I’d still really love to see Neverland. I’m curious what Hook looks like. Just so I know what to tell Trisha.”
Gerard shuddered. “I’ve a nude, beautiful woman in my bed. The last thing I want is to think about that ugly pirate. Come here, harpy,” he growled, pulling her in for a kiss and when he slipped inside her, he moved slow and sure, filling her body and her soul.
“I love you, Betty Hart. Forever and always,” Gerard said and proceeded to show her just how much the rest of their long lives.
~*~
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Gerard’s Luscious Salmon Fillets:
Ingredients
Citrus Glaze:
Grilled Salmon:
Directions
Glaze: Bring all of the ingredients to a boil in a medium-sized saucepan over medium heat, stirring to melt the preserves and to keep the mixture from burning. Reduce the heat to a simmer and let the glaze reduce until syrupy, about 15 to 20 minutes. Adjust the seasonings with salt and freshly cracked pepper, to taste.
Salmon:
Heat a grill to medium-high heat.
Brush both sides of the fillets with olive oil just before grilling, then season with salt and pepper, to taste. Grill the salmon for about 4 minutes per side, brushing with the glaze during the final few minutes of cooking. Transfer the salmon to serving plates and brush them with the remaining glaze before serving.