Chapter 2
Analia traced the fabric outline of a patchwork blue-and-yellow chicken with one finger. It was in the center of a white quilt block edged with blue.
Each block in the quilt had a similar image, though the color combinations varied on individual chickens. Some were blue and green, some blue and orange, some blue and red.
“This is super nice work,” she said to the man standing next her, who despite being older than her twenty-six, seemed easily half her age.
Stefan smiled big at the compliment. He puffed out his chest and stood a little taller. And that made Analia feel good.
This work placement was perfect for Stefan. He was going to thrive at the Artist’s Loft.
She’d been optimistic, because it’d worked out for a number of other Down Syndrome clients, but there were no guarantees. There was no one solution fits everyone either for typicals, a word she preferred over normal, or those with mental or physical challenges.
“I love the chickens,” she said. “Just seeing them makes me smile.”
“Me too!” He smoothed a hand over the quilt. “Janie showed me how to use patterns to cut different pieces. Then Walter and me put the pieces together to make the chickens. I even sewed some of them together. And I sewed the edges on some of the squares. And then I sewed some of the squares together, though mostly it was Janie and Walter.”
“Well, all three of you created a beautiful quilt.”
“Ms. Carly says that next week the quilt will be finished. Then it will go on sale in the shop.”
Analia glanced over her shoulder at the retail space. It was filled with quilts as well as artwork and crafts, including pottery and jewelry, created by local artists who’d joined forces to open the Artist’s Loft so they had a place to show and sell their work.
“I bet this quilt isn’t in the shop very long before someone buys it,” Analia said, though it was equally likely it’d get snapped up by someone shopping online.
“Ms. Carly says I’ll get to help choose what kind of quilt we work on next.”
“Do you have any ideas?”
“Cows!” he said, his enthusiasm making her smile.
“Black-and-white cows? Or colorful cows, like the chickens?”
Stefan’s eyebrows drew together as he gave the question serious thought. “Black-and-white. But maybe colors if that’s what the others want. Just so long as they pick cows.”
“That sounds like a good compromise, let them choose what kind of cows if that means you get their votes.”
He grinned and patted the quilt in front of them. “Maybe whoever buys this quilt will want one with cows.”
“There’s a good chance of it. Maybe they’ll want a whole collection of quilts with farm animals.”
Stefan’s eyes lit up. “We could do quilts with goats and pigs and horses.”
“I think you’re on to something,” Analia said with a smile. “And now I’ve got to get going, but I’ll check in on you again. I can hardly wait to see the next quilt.”
He surprised her with a hug. “Thanks Miss A, for finding me this job.”
She returned the hug, warmth blossoming in her chest. “I found it, but you’re the one who interviewed and got the job, Stefan. You’re here because of you.”
His arms tightened, and then he released her. “Bye, Miss A.”
“Bye, I’ll see you again soon.”
She left the work area, intending to head straight for the exit, but a pair of earrings caught her attention. They were pewter doves with separate, smaller peace symbols dangling in front of the dove bodies.
“Those were made by a fifteen-year-old artist who’s being homeschooled,” an older woman who Analia recognized as a local potter and cooperative member said from behind the register.
Analia couldn’t resist. She snagged the earrings.
The woman smiled and said, “I can’t resist either. Every time I come to the Loft, I check to see what new piece of jewelry Elisa’s created.”
Analia paid and left the store. Within steps the sense of happiness and satisfaction was replaced by the prickly sensation of being watched.
Her heart sped, thumping harder though there was no one between her and her car, which was parked along the curb.
She looked across the street. An old, homeless man pushed a cart piled high with belongings. He was talking to himself, seemingly obvious to anything around him.
She glanced behind her. A blond woman was crossing at the light, her attention focused on her cellphone.
At a corner past the woman, three men huddled, possibly trying to agree on directions or a destination. They looked like grandfather, father and son.
Analia rubbed her hands over her arms in an attempt to smooth away the prickly sensation on her skin. She looked upward and saw curtains fluttering in several open windows.
Maybe someone had been watching her, though probably not her in particular. Still…
She didn’t slow her steps, and it wasn’t until she was in her car that the prickling sensation was truly gone.
“Weird.” She’d never experienced anything like that when she’d visited the Artist’s Loft.
Analia shook it off and didn’t give it another thought until she stepped into her second-floor apartment. A chill swept over her despite the warm breeze coming in through an open window.
She came to an abrupt halt. Someone had been there. Someone might still be there. The sense of it was overwhelming.
Her pulse quickened. Her gaze darted around the small studio apartment, drilled into the space beneath the bed, though it’d be a tight squeeze, then flew to the bathroom doorway.
She inched forward and sideways, stood on tiptoes, glad she’d left the shower curtain, with its seascape picture, pulled aside. There was no intruder hiding in the bathtub.
And there was no way that someone could have been watching her from an upstairs window near the Artist’s Loft and at the same time be lying in wait for her at her apartment.
She’d obviously been reading way too many thrillers, because seriously, who’d be watching her?
Analia closed the door and moved deeper into the apartment. Her hand went to the charm bracelet on her wrist. She stroked the dolphin-shaped protection charm she’d had since she was a kid, given to her by Sabra, a friend she still got together with as often as possible. And if the dolphin wasn’t protection enough, she had even more charms in her dresser drawer and a few fetishes scattered throughout the apartment.
Reaching the coffee table, Analia dropped her purse. And though she’d convinced herself that her imagination had just gotten the better of her after she’d managed to give herself a scare outside of the Artist’s Loft, she couldn’t stop herself from going to her dresser and opening her jewelry drawer—though maybe charm drawer would be a better description.
The drawer was packed with charms, but she could remember where each and every one of them had come from. Some were carved out of wood, some out of bone. Some took the form of crystals or polished stone or forged metal. Some were delicately engraved, while others were crudely worked.
She couldn’t resist them. She was in fact, crazy about charms and had been since she was a kid.
“Some people have a lucky coin or a lucky hat, I’ve got charms.”
She laughed out loud when she thought about just how close she’d come to whipping out her credit card at the All Things Supernatural Fair and buying a charm meant to bring a supernatural lover into her life—no, not just a lover, a mate.
That had been a colossal moment of weakness brought on by the previous night’s date. Ugh!
According to the dating app she’d given a try, Mitch was supposed to be the perfect match. And he would have been, if she’d been a mirror so he could spend all his time looking and thinking about himself.
She shook her head, laughed for a second time at remembering her best friend Saffron’s reaction to the price tag for the charm. It’d been a thousand dollars.
You’re not wasting your money on that charm. Not on my watch!
Saffron hadn’t said the words out loud, but she hadn’t needed to. They’d been friends long enough to know what each other was thinking. Instead she’d said, “You’re smart, gorgeous and fun to be with. You don’t need to lay down that kind of cash to meet someone special. It’ll happen. It. Will. Happen. Believe it.”
“I’m trying to believe it,” Analia murmured, heart lifting as her gaze moved to the charm bracelet on her wrist and the translucent green apple that seemed to glow as it caught the early evening sunlight streaming in through the window. She’d gotten it at the All Things Supernatural Fair and it’d come with a prophecy and a warning.
Her cell rang, sending her back to the coffee table. She dug her phone out of her purse and smiled at seeing Sabra’s name.
“I was just thinking about you and Saffron,” Analia said by way of answering. “What’s up?” Because something had to be for Sabra to call instead of text.
“Come out and play tonight. Ace and I are hitting Stones. There’s a hot DJ he wants to watch.”
“Just watch? Don’t you mean, get into the guy’s pants?”
“They’re not mutually exclusive.”
Analia snorted out a laugh. Since Ace went both ways, there was a lot of truth in that statement. It was too easy to imagine him enjoying watching the action before joining the action.
“Please, pretty please, come out and play, Lia,” Sabra said.
Analia huffed out a dramatic sigh, “Okay. Against my better judgment, I’ll come out to play with you two troublemakers.”
Sabra laughed. “So now you’re maligning my character?”
“Maligning?”
“My word for the day. How soon can you get to the club?”
“I just need to change clothes.”
“Okay, see you soon. I’ve got a good feeling about tonight. One of us, maybe all three of us, is going to get lucky!”
Analia dropped her phone back into her purse and returned to the dresser. Her gaze roamed over the charms as she tried to decide if she wanted to add one of them to the bracelet she was never without.
She grinned, the thousand-dollar charm to attract a supernatural mate would have come in handy tonight. Not that she was absolutely certain supernatural beings existed at all, though there’d been more and more strange things happening of late—including today’s sighting of unicorns—so maybe, just maybe the supernatural extended to supernatural mates.
And if any place in San Diego was a supernatural hangout, it’d be Stones. The couple of times she’d gone to the club, there’d been plenty of men with supernaturally good looks—and every one of them had boasted the it factor.
“Maybe a supernatural mate really is a possibility,” she murmured, not totally believing it. But still…
Unicorns!
It had been all over the news, though she’d only heard about it on the radio as she’d been driving out to see Stefan at the Artist’s Loft.
The radio talk shows and news reporters had paraded out a host of experts, including veterinarians and zoo keepers, psychics and scientists, anyone willing to opine as to whether the unicorns were real or a well-done hoax.
Her money was on real. Because if they weren’t real, then why had Supernatural Ops been called in to capture the unicorns?
Thoughts of Supernatural Ops, the very secretive division of Homeland Security, had her contemplating a call to her best friend, Saffron, who just happened to have permanently hooked up with a Supernatural Ops honey.
Analia decided against the call. Sabra had probably already squeezed Saffron for info; one of the benefits of being Saffron’s twin, though the sisters didn’t look alike.
Analia changed into skinny jeans and a light green short-sleeved top that didn’t hug her curves, but was soft and wispy and always made her feel feminine.
She decided on flats since the club was along the beach, and there was always the chance she’d meet someone interesting and they’d take a moonlit stroll.
Yeah, she was a hopeless romantic, always had been.
She chose a pair of earrings, delicate silver flowers dangling from French wires, that also supposedly brought clarity of thought and wisdom, always a good thing when alcohol was involved.
The uneasy sense she’d experienced when she opened her apartment door returned as she slipped the earrings on, that someone had been in her apartment, and more specifically had been pawing through her charms. It took her a few seconds to realize why, the tree-shaped charm that had come with the green, apple-shaped crystal charm that was on her bracelet was missing.
Her heart pounded a little harder and she turned her wrist over to touch the apple. Her mouth went dry as she remembered the encounter with the old man at the supernatural fair.
He’d once been tall, or at least she imagined he had been, before the pronounced hump in his spine stole inches away. His hair was a shock of white, standing upright as if he’d tugged it outward with his hands. And his face was lined, by hardship she’d thought, after he captured her attention by calling, “Pretty lady, I have something that belongs to you.”
Curious, she’d gone to his booth, leaving Ace to look over a collection of tarot cards.
“What do you have that belongs to me?” she’d asked, despite suspecting the old man of using a clever sales pitch.
None of the charms on display were very expensive. Truthfully, they looked like he’d rummaged through junk left out on the street for the garbage collector, or bought the jewelry cheap at a thrift shop for resale at the supernatural fair.
He reached beneath the table and lifted a gnarled, silver tree that looked like a homemade jewelry holder. Dangling from a limb was the translucent green apple.
For some reason, the charm had made her think of plunging waterfalls and serene lakes set high in the mountains, not that she had personal experience with either waterfalls or mountain lakes.
“The charms on the table, they’re for anyone to buy,” he’d said in a low voice. “This charm is different, special. It picked you to see it home, and so I called you over.”
Skeptical, but also intrigued, she’d asked, “How do you know it picked me?”
His gaze met hers and she’d expected to see a twinkle there, but the eyes looking back at her were somber. “There’s a knowing, a connection my family has possessed for generations.”
He’d tilted the tree-shaped jewelry holder and she’d reached out, hesitating before lifting the charm off the silver branch and placing it on her palm. It’d felt warm, but not magical, though if pressed, she probably couldn’t actually define what magical felt like.
“What does it do?”
He’d returned the jewelry holder to its out-of-sight place beneath the table. “I can’t tell you until you accept the charm, and the responsibility that comes with its possession.”
She’d glanced up, feeling wary, as if his words hinted at danger, but… the charm, though it was pretty, didn’t seem extraordinary.
“Do you accept?” he’d asked, holding her gaze, a certain… Not desperation, but intense resolve in his eyes.
Maybe he’s superstitious, she’d thought, and taken a chance, asking, “How much?”
“Whatever you wish to pay.”
When she would have returned it to him so she could remove her wallet from her purse, he’d halted her with an upraised hand. “Please, allow me to put it on your bracelet.”
He’d done just that and the apple-shaped charm had seemed to disappear among the multitude of charms on her wrist.
She’d opened her purse and then her billfold. She’d had twenty-three dollars, total. And that’s what she’d handed to the old man.
After he’d pocketed the bills, he’d said, “The charm is where it wants to be,” and there was no mistaking the relief in his voice.
“What does the charm do?” Now that she was in official possession, there was no way she was going to let him get away without telling her.
He reached beneath the table and she expected to see the silver, tree-shaped jewelry holder. Instead, he lifted a fisted hand.
“There’s a companion charm,” he said, opening his hand to reveal a gnarled, tree-shaped charm that looked like a miniature version of the hand-crafted silver jewelry holder, except it was made from a deep brown crystal with hints of green the color of dark moss.
He’d pulled a cloth from a worn shirt pocket and wrapped the small tree in it before handing it to her. “Hurry home. Do not carry them both at the same time any longer than necessary. And never wear them at the same time or you’ll attract harm.”
A shiver of uneasiness had passed through her then and it passed through her now, her heart beating harder and harder as she searched the jewelry drawer for the tree-shaped charm.
She lifted each charm individually, her hands moving faster and faster as she worked from the front of the drawer toward the back. Not there. Not there. Not there.
“Both charms must remain in your possession,” the old man had said, urgency in his voice. “Together the charms will open the doors to a journey of discovery. They will lead you to a deeper understanding of the world and the mate meant for you. Care for the charms and you will have the wedding you’ve dreamed of since you were young.”
Had she put the second charm in the drawer?
Yes. Of course she had. She specifically remembered putting it there when she’d come home from the All Things Supernatural Fair.
But had she seen it since then? When was the last time she’d seen it?
She couldn’t actually picture it. But she must have seen it, right?
Closing the drawer, she dropped to her knee to check under the dresser. Light glinted off something a few inches from where her knee touched the carpet.
“Found you,” she said, scooping up the charm.
A relieved laugh escaped, and with that relief came the suspicion that her overactive imagination was responsible for the last several minutes of drama.
It was a good thing she’d said yes to Sabra. If she stayed in her apartment, she’d probably start hearing and seeing things.
She studied the tree-shaped charm. There were tiny symbols carved onto the trunk and limbs, but when she’d researched them online, she hadn’t found any useful information.
Would possession of the two charms really lead to the perfect mate? To a dream wedding?
And how had the old man known she’d been planning her wedding since high school?
Or had that been a lucky guess on his part?
But if it had been, why add the ominous warning about not wearing the charms at the same time or she’d attract harm? Why add a final warning before he’d begun packing up his booth, as if selling the rest of his wares no longer mattered now that she was in possession of the two charms?
Do not let the charms come to the attention of agents from Supernatural Ops. If you do, they will be confiscated. They will disappear into the IRE vaults and your chance at happiness with your true mate will disappear along with the charms.
Shaking her head, Analia stood and placed the charm back in the dresser drawer, making room for it in the front, righthand corner so she knew exactly where it was and could picture it in her mind.
“Now stay put,” she told it, laughing at her flight of fantasy. “I’m going out for the evening. And who knows, maybe tonight’s the night I’ll meet my perfect match.”
* * *
Kellen entered the club, immediately encountering a pair of blonds who stripped him visually. With their gazes, they peeled off his clothes, eyes lingering at the front of his jeans then on his chest, his mouth, his eyes—before dropping once again to his crotch.
Lips painted a slick, glossy red parted at the same time, as if the two women had practiced synchronizing their carnal invitation in front of a mirror before coming to Stones.
He considered taking them up on their offer. A subtle nod and he’d be heading right back out the door with a blond on each arm. They’d do for round one, and he would make good on his promise to his sire by enjoying multiple women tonight. But, what was the hurry?
They wouldn’t be the last to offer themselves to him. In fact, he fully anticipated accidentally running into Deidra at some point in the evening if he stayed out in it long enough.
The blond with the slightly larger boobs licked her lips again with a slow swipe before lifting her eyes and meeting his gaze. His cock twitched, but didn’t demand a response to the woman’s invitation. Not all that surprising. Human women were easy.
He flicked a half smile in the woman’s direction without promising anything in it, then, as a courtesy, offered an identical smile to her companion. Perhaps later tonight he’d take them up on their offer of a threesome.
Passing them, he headed to the table where Crew and Gaige were already seated, beer bottles accumulating in front of them.
Supernatural metabolism made it hard to get inebriated, but Kellen did appreciate the human creation of alcoholic drinks. He dropped into a chair across from Gaige, who pushed a bottle of micro-brewed beer toward him. “Want to talk about it? Whatever had our fearless leader in a ball-busting mood?”
“My sire.”
“Ah, he showed up at headquarters to deliver the you need to take a mate talk.”
“That’s the one.”
“I get it regularly,” Gaige said.
Crew snorted, the tiniest hint of smoke emerging from his nostrils. “As do I.”
He would, given that he was the scion of one of the most powerful families in the dragon realm.
“I’m surprised you fight it,” Kellen said. “According to Taine, a mate is the greatest treasure of all.”
Another hint of smoke drifted from Crew’s nostrils. “And look where that belief has gotten him, shackled to a human female and vulnerable in this realm because of her mortality.”
“Plus he’s missing all of this,” Gaige said, a sweep of his hand indicating more than one woman sending an invitation their way with the flip of hair and thrust of breasts.
“True,” Crew said, tilting his beer bottle toward the center of the table in the offer of a toast. “To freedom.”
Kellen picked up the micro-brew, clinked bottle to bottle, touching Crew’s raised bottle and then Gaige’s. “To freedom.”
A blond from a nearby table broke away from her friends and approached. “Celebrating something?” she asked when she reached their table, her voice indicating she’d be more than happy to help any one of them celebrate privately.
Their lack of interest in the offer sent her away, though she was followed by another woman, and another, and another.
Kellen considered each of them objectively. Concluded that any one of them would have made an enjoyable companion for a quick sexual encounter, but…
His cock didn’t demand he answer any of the overtures. None of them smelled as alluring as the scent he’d encountered at the All Things Supernatural Fair. Now there, sight unseen, had been a female he wanted to mount.
She’d smelled so lush and inviting. But he’d been in his hound form, and hunting magical items that couldn’t be allowed to fall into human hands had kept him busy, preventing him from tracking the female.
“I’m surprised you passed on the redhead,” Gaige said a multitude of overtures later, his gaze following the sway of her ass as she headed to the dance floor with Crew.
Kellen lifted a fresh bottle of beer and took a long swallow before saying, “Not ready to leave yet.”
Gaige snorted. “Since when do you have to leave? Take one of them outside and do her against the side of the building or better yet, down on the beach, then come back in for another appetizer. Don’t tell me there’s no blanket in the Hummer for just that purpose.”
Kellen shrugged. “Too much trouble at the moment.”
Gaige’s attention shifted from the redhead’s ass, his gaze landing on Kellen and sharpening. “Something’s off with you. It’s tempting to think you’ve stumbled across your mate. Lack of sexual interest in other females is the first warning sign.”
“Ridiculous.”
Gaige tilted his head back and sniffed loudly. “Is that fear I’m smelling?”
“I have not encountered my mate,” Kellen growled.
Gaige cocked his head. “Is that protest perhaps too vigorous?”
Kellen’s impulse was to bolt from his seat and grab one of the numerous females. He could easily prove the ridiculousness of Gaige’s statements with the bump and grind of his cock against some random female on the dance floor.
He resisted the impulse, telling himself that such an action would have Gaige’s laughter chasing him to the dance floor. The very act of proving Gaige wrong would only result in more needling.
“I don’t see you responding to any of these women. Perhaps you’re only expressing your own fear,” Kellen said. “That you’ve met your mate.”
Gaige shuddered. “Truce. Enough talk of mates. What are the odds that we can make it twenty-four hours without being called in to clean up some sorcerer’s mess?”
“Days after the supernatural fair?” Kellen said, “There’s bound to be more trouble, if not by sorcerers then by a visitor to this realm.”
He thought again of the elusive scent at the All Things Supernatural Fair, but this time, as if conjured by his thoughts, wisps of that scent reached and filled his nostrils and his cock went from semi-hard to an exclamation point of demand.
Kellen glanced around the club, but the source of the lush, enticement wasn’t obvious. He stood, only to immediately sit, preferring to draw out the moment before he’d encounter his prey.
It’d been a long time since a human had caught his interest. Why not savor it? It wasn’t as if this one would be any different in the end.
Easy come. Easy go.
His mouth quirked upward. Or more accurately, easy cum, easy go.
Still, his gaze roamed the club, his hound nature at the forefront, alert. Hunting.
* * *
Wow, Analia thought after entering Stones. The beautiful people were out in force.
The place was packed, and she wasn’t sure she was up for the crush of people, not after a day of rushing to visit one client after another, battling traffic in between stops.
She loved her job as a rehabilitation counselor, but some days were more hectic than others. If she hadn’t scared herself silly outside of the Artist’s Loft then again at her apartment, she’d be curled up on the couch with a glass of wine and a good book.
Lately she’d just felt more and more disconnected from the club scene. Like she’d rather get lost in a good book, a romance, or better yet, a romance combined with a fantasy adventure.
Which is why a charm to attract a supernatural mate had held such appeal. Which was why she wanted to believe the unicorns all over the news had been real, and not an elaborate hoax.
No backing out, she chastised. It’d been weeks since she’d had a chance to get together with Sabra, and besides, she needed to give Sabra the tarot deck she hadn’t been able to resist at the All Things Supernatural Fair. And though she’d hung out with Ace at that same fair after Saffron left to rescue an iguana from animal control, she always enjoyed his company. It didn’t hurt that he was drop dead gorgeous. Eye candy of the first order, without the overbearing ego that often came with guys who knew just how delicious they were.
Moving deeper into the club, she spotted Sabra and Ace. They were hard to miss.
They weren’t actually a couple, but they made a striking pair. Ace with his long blond hair and Sabra, with her caramel-toned skin and model’s face and body.
Sabra gave a little wave. Analia returned it.
She’d give this half an hour, then make her excuses. A half an hour from now and both Sabra and Ace would have caught the eye of someone they wanted to spend more time with, and she could go home, or better yet, take a walk along the beach.
Analia reached the table and dropped into a chair to Ace’s left. Ace held out his hand to Sabra, palm up. “Pay up.”
Sabra pulled a wrinkled, balled-up dollar bill from jeans that looked painted on. It was the same bill they’d been trading on and off since the beginning of the year.
Analia gave a put-out sigh. “You didn’t think I’d show.”
Ace slipped the bill into his shirt pocket. “She didn’t think you’d stay long enough to sit. Said you’d take one look at how packed this place is and make your excuses and bolt.”
“Give me thirty minutes,” Analia grumbled, a little chagrined that her friends knew her so well.
A waitress stopped at the table and took Analia’s order for a strawberry daquiri.
“Look over there,” Sabra said, tilting her head to the left. “Recognize the blond with the long hair?”
Analia looked and her heart tripped into a faster beat. She recognized the blond instantly, from the All Things Supernatural Fair.
He’d been standing with two other men—one of those men had been Taine, who’d become Saffron’s significant other. And taken together, the three men had been a glorious, mouth-watering trifecta of masculinity.
If a charm would pull one of those bad boys into my life, she’d told Saffron, I’d hand over my credit card in a heartbeat.
It’d been nothing but the truth. She’d wanted an introduction, but they’d moved out of sight before she’d gotten one.
Only now… The long-haired blond couldn’t capture her attention, much less hold it, not compared to the other man at the table.
His hair was shorter, brown with hints of red, and he sported a close-cropped beard. His looks were rougher than the blond’s, less elegant, but looking at him sent flutters through both her stomach and chest.
Without conscious thought her fingertips glided over the apple-shaped charm, the touch bringing both the old man’s promise that possession of the two charms would lead to the perfect mate, and the warning that if the charms came to the attention of agents from Supernatural Ops, her chance at happy-ever-after would disappear.
No way could she be looking at said mate, she told herself, even as she struggled to wrench her gaze away from him because another minute of staring and he was going to end up starring in an intense sexual fantasy.
Strike that. The damage had already been done. But that didn’t mean she wanted to start drooling in front of Ace and Sabra.
Somehow she managed to force her attention back to her companions. She even managed to sound casual when she said, “I recognize him. He’s a Supernatural Ops agent.”
“Huh?” A little wrinkle appeared between Sabra’s eyebrows. “That’s not why I noticed him. Look harder and concentrate, think Star Tracker.”
Ace rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re still following that blog.”
“It’s better than the National Enquirer,” Sabra retorted.
“Only barely,” Ace shot back.
Analia dared another glance, though her gaze went to the bearded man, lingering on lips she imagined could deliver a kiss that’d curl her toes.
For the second time she wrenched her attention away from him, this time forcing herself to focus on the blond she’d seen at the supernatural fair. Like Ace, the blond looked like he’d been created for the big screen. But where Ace was approachable, there was an untouchable beauty to the Supernatural Ops agent.
Think Star Tracker. Think Star Tracker.
It took Analia a few minutes, she wasn’t a gossip blog reader, though Sabra was always texting her links and pictures, and when they were together, sharing images on her phone. Ultimately the long blond hair helped.
She finally said, “He hangs out in L.A. You’ve sent me pictures of him going to Hollywood events, most often with some up-and-coming starlet on his arm. Isn’t he some kind of prince?”
“That’s the rumor.”
Ace pursed his lips and studied the blond, then shook his head. “Sadly, I don’t think the Hollywood Honey plays both sides of the field.”
Sabra patted Ace’s arm. “You’ll survive the disappointment.”
As delightful as the maybe-prince was to look at, Analia’s attention drifted back to his companion. What were the odds that he was the blond’s friend, and not a Supernatural Ops agent?
Where the Hollywood Honey had a kind of hazy glamour surrounding him, the man she couldn’t seem to keep from looking at made her think of a lone wolf. He radiated strength and security. Radiated the sense that the world hadn’t been offered up to him on a silver platter as it had for his companion.
Their eyes met and held, and her heart rolled and tumbled. Her sex slickened and it was too easy to imagine the rough feel of his short beard against her inner thighs and the press of those sensuous lips against her lower lips.
Part of her wanted to dash out to the car and stash the apple-shaped charm there, just in case… But then those lips quirked upward as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, and her face flamed with heat.
Hound dog. He probably had women throwing themselves at him all the time.
Like now.
A pair of blonds stopped next to the men’s table, both of the women finding cause to lean over and provide a very up-close-and-personal view of their impressive cleavages.
And the men’s gazes were drawn to those cleavages.
“Hound dogs,” Analia muttered.
Having followed her gaze, Ace snorted. “Cut them some slack, sweets. Eyes are a lot harder to control than hands.”
She turned her attention back to her friends. “Not my type of guys anyway.”
Sabra rolled her eyes. “They’re exactly your type of guys because they’re totally my type of guys. Seriously, for women who say they want to meet Mr. Right, we always go for Mr. Wrong.”
Analia sighed. “Yeah, we do. Maybe it’s time for a change?” Why else had she seriously considered spending a grand on a charm that would supposedly attract a supernatural mate?
Ace laughed. “Mr. Wrong can still be plenty of fun. Admit it.”
Analia took a sip of her drink. “I admit nothing.”
“I second that,” Sabra said.
Remembering the gift in her purse, Analia said, “I bought something for you the other day when I was at the supernatural fair.”
Sabra rubbed her hands together. “Give me. Give me. Give me.”
Analia pulled the deck of tarot cards out of her purse and handed it to Sabra, who immediately opened the box and spread the cards face up. “Oh. I like. I like a lot.”
They had a supernatural theme, of the fantasy variety, including dragons, faeries and sorcerers.
Ace said, “Time for a reading.”
“Reflection,” Sabra murmured.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Ace said. “You can write morning pages if you want to reflect. I’d much rather have answers about fame, fortune and fucking.”
“Typical guy,” Sabra said.
“You’re wounding me, sweets. Hitting me right where it hurts.”
Analia shook her head. “As if that’s even possible. Who wants to go first?”
“My cards. My first go,” Sabra said. “Is the man of my dreams at Stones now, or going to be here tonight?”
She turned the cards face down on the table, moved them around, mixing them until her hand settled on one. She pulled it out and flipped it over.
Ace offered a fist bump at seeing The Lovers. “Well, if he’s not here, you’re at least going to see some action tonight.”
Sabra smiled and glanced over at the table with the maybe-prince and his companion, and Analia had to choke off a not him when her eyes settled on the man with the Hollywood Honey.
“My turn,” Ace said, flipping The Lovers over and gathering the cards.
He shuffled them, and kept shuffling as he formulated his question. Finally he said to Sabra, “Hell, why not? It worked for you, though man of my dreams covers a lot of territory. But here goes, Is the man—or woman—of my dreams here now, or going to show up tonight?”
He shuffled some more, then cut the deck in the more traditional manner before flipping over a card.
The Hermit. “Well, I think we can call that a no. Your turn Lia.”
She took the cards—and couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at the man she already knew was going to star in a multitude of fantasies.
A third, dark-haired man had joined the other two and she recognized him from the supernatural fair. He’d been with Taine and the Hollywood Honey.
Suppressing a disappointed sigh, because what were the chances their companion wasn’t a Supernatural Ops agent, she turned her attention to the charm on her wrist. Light glinted off the apple-shaped crystal. No way could she risk having it come to the attention of the agents.
What to ask? What to ask?
Sabra folded her arms and directed a mock scowl at Analia. “Do not even think about holding out on us and going the silent route.”
Analia laughed and shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m just trying to compose a question.”
“What about composing one about the guy you keep sneaking glances at?” Ace said, heating Analia’s cheeks. So much for being subtle.
“He’s not a mystery.” Though she was inordinately pleased that he hadn’t allowed one of the big-boobed blonds to lead him onto the dance floor so she could rub and grind against him.
Ace snorted. “Guys rarely are. That’s what I like about them. They’re uncomplicated.”
“Unless you want more than sex,” Sabra said. “Then they have a way of totally screwing with your head.”
“There is that,” Ace conceded. “Still, I dare you to ask if he’s the one?”
Sabra laughed and clapped. “I double dare you!”
An involuntary shiver went through Analia. She drew a deep breath. “Okay, why not?”
Why not get confirmation that she needed to stay away from him, despite how deeply attracted she was to him?
Taking a breath and only barely preventing herself from glancing at the table with the Supernatural Ops agents, she asked, “Is he the one?”
She mixed the cards and could have sworn a vibration went through the wrist she wore the charm bracelet on when she touched what felt like the right card.
She flipped it over and saw the Ace of Cups.
Sabra gave a little hoot. “Intimacy and love. He’s the one!”
Mouth dry, Analia said, “I think I need clarification.”
She fanned the cards out on the table, trailed her finger over them until she felt that same subtle vibration.
Flipping the second card revealed the Six of Swords.
Ace leaned forward to study both cards. “Sweet. Love and intimacy combined with a journey. I’m seeing a road trip and hot sex.”
Analia dropped her hands into her lap and immediately rubbed the translucent green charm. Could the cards be right?
How could they be if he was a Supernatural Ops agent?
But…
She shivered. The cards seemed to mirror the old man’s saying that possession of the charms would open the doors to a journey of discovery. That they would lead to a deeper understanding of the world—which could include the supernatural world—and to the mate meant for her.
So maybe… She wet her lips and snuck a glance at the man sitting with the two who’d been at the supernatural fair.
* * *
Kellen was tired of ignoring his cock. From the moment his eyes had met the brunette’s, it’d demanded that he go to her. The strength of the demand had kept him in his seat, but now…
Gaige left the table, drawn onto the dance floor by a blond.
Crew left a second later, heading toward IRE’s human sorcerer, Kristof, who’d just become visible standing near the bar.
Give in, Kellen’s cock urged.
A dance. A fuck.
His cock reminded him that tonight was like any other and gaining physical relief was part of the reason for coming to Stones. Why continue to deny himself?
He set his beer bottle down and stood, a slight wariness tightening his chest at the sight of the tarot cards on the table in front of the brunette.
The man she was with said something, sending her gaze in Kellen’s direction. Her eyes caught his and his thoughts went to Gaige twirling the lasso of woven magic to capture the unicorn. A warning perhaps?
But there was no turning around. Desire drew him forward, and steps away from her, his nostrils filled with the same elusive, captivating scent he’d encountered at the supernatural fair.
Here was its source and she was willing, very willing to satisfy the desire that’d been raging for days. If he hadn’t ignored the demands of his cock, he would have known it sooner, could already have had her beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist as he swallowed her cries of pleasure.
Her female companion had caramel-toned skin and seemed familiar, but a quick inhalation and he knew he’d never encountered her before.
The tightness in his chest eased when the friend scooped up the tarot cards and slipped them into a box.
He reached the table and his reality narrowed. He wanted the brunette with an intensity he’d never before experienced.
“Dance?” he asked, holding out his hand, anticipating the moment when they touched.
Pleasure shot up his arm with the brush of her fingers to his. Heat coiled around his cock.
He guided her out of her chair, wanted to guide her straight out of the club and into his bed.
Later, he promised himself, knowing instantly that he wouldn’t make good on his words to his sire. There’d only be one female tonight. This female.
She would occupy him for the rest of the night and into tomorrow. He’d take her home with him. He’d spend hours with his cock shoved into her channel.
Tonight.
Tomorrow.
The next day.
Possibly even the days that followed.
They reached the dance floor and the timing was perfect. A slow song gave him an excuse to grip her hips and wallow in sensual heat.
“I’m Kellen,” he said, lips brushing across her ear, inhaling deeply, her scent even more tormenting when combined with the feel of her against him.
“I’m Analia.”
The name wound itself around him like a captivating melody. It was beautiful, like her.
She was feminine perfection. Perfectly curved—not too much, not too little, but just right.
She fit against him as if made for him, a thought that sent a shiver of alarm through him though he countered it by telling himself that the sense of rightness was hound instinct, a base desire to mate and procreate he could easily overcome.
The need to taste her had his mouth seeking out her neck. And with that first touch of lips to throat came the primitive, driving imperative to take her tender skin between his teeth and leave his mark.
The fierceness of the urge tripled his heartbeat. It brought back the earlier conversation with Gaige, and the outrageous taunt that somehow Kellen had stumbled upon his mate.
It should have driven him backward, away from Analia. But his hands refused to leave her waist and his mouth refused to lift from her neck.
Fuck!
Fuck! His cock agreed, the foreskin drawing back enough to heighten the sensation each time his pelvis made contact with hers as they danced.
Fire surged through his shaft, pleasure intense enough to tighten his ass and have him fighting against dry humping.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” he said.
“I don’t come here very often.”
Good.
He didn’t like the thought of her falling prey to any number of the supernatural—or human—males who frequented Stones.
She wore a bracelet, the magic emanating from some of the charms hinting that she might have an interest in the supernatural. Her presence at Stones indicating she might be amenable to a night of pleasure, with someone other than him.
He stifled a growl and took her mouth more fiercely than he’d intended, his lips hard on hers, his tongue delivering a rough demand for entry rather than a sensuous request.
Her moan might have been a meal. It satisfied him in a way that a feast—in human or hound form—wouldn’t.
He swallowed the sound of her pleasure and desire, and needed more of her. His hands stroked upward along her sides, drawing her closer, and even that wasn’t close enough.
Her nipples pressed against his chest like hard, ripened berries and he wanted to strip blouse and bra from her body so he could look and nuzzle and taste.
She moaned again, cupped the back of his neck and head. She readily met the thrust of his tongue with the thrust of hers, her alluring scent heavily laced with arousal.
He wanted to plunge his hand into her panties. Wanted to confirm what he knew, that she was wet for him. Ready for him.
The hound part of his nature easily pictured her on her knees, her chest touched to the floor and her legs splayed, her pussy slick and swollen.
His tongue plunged deeper into her mouth, mimicked what his cock was desperate to do, surround itself in wet heat and willing surrender.
Mine! It claimed.
Mine! Mine! Mine!
And in that instant he didn’t care. Couldn’t be bothered to protest.
So what if his body claimed she was a potential mate? Giving in to the pleasure didn’t have to be a trap.
He could take her and walk away from her. No female would ever ensnare his heart again and make him want to become half of a mated pair.
His trust would never extend that far again, not after Cosette’s betrayal. But that didn’t mean he had to deny himself the pleasure of being with Analia.
Hadn’t he promised himself that if he ever encountered the female he’d scented at the supernatural fair, he’d fuck her until that lush scent no longer had the power to send blood rushing to his cock?
His mouth lifted from hers, but only because he wanted to meet her eyes and see her face. “You outshine every woman here,” he said, and it was nothing less than the truth.
A blush highlighted her cheekbones, and the sight of it created a foreign swell in his chest—something that might be tenderness, even protectiveness.
Her gaze searched his as if looking for something, and he evaded the search with the rub of his cheek against hers, with deep inhalations of her lush, intoxicating scent.
Every breath intensified the heat coursing through him, every breath sent that heat pounding into his cock. “I need more,” he said, the words wrenched from him before he took her mouth again, desire deepening with each stroke of tongue against tongue.
The rub of her mound against the hard ridge of his erection was sensuous torture, a torment he wouldn’t be able to endure very long in public. A single inhalation was all it’d taken for his cock to ready itself for her, and he wasn’t alone in desire.
The scent of her arousal was a lure he had no intention of resisting. Imagining his cock bathed in that sultry heat was enough to send a shudder of fiery want up his spine.
Foreplay wouldn’t be possible. Not the first time.
Maybe not even the second or third.
He’d consider it a major accomplishment if he managed to last long enough to stretch her out beneath him on a bed.
Unwanted interruption came in the form of Gaige, sidling next to them, a different woman in his arms. The fey prince uttered a magical word so only Kellen could hear him say, “She might be willing, but she’s a complication you don’t need. I saw her at the supernatural fair with Saffron. They’re close friends.”
Heat was countered but not obliterated by the cold wash of reality.
Warning delivered, Gaige moved away, not needing to say more as far as Kellen was concerned.
Analia was off limits.
He wouldn’t risk destroying the easy comradery, the sense of brotherhood, of family—family as he’d never experienced it in the hound’s realm—that he’d found at IRE.
Like all dragons, Taine’s loyalty was to his mate, Saffron. Hurt a friend of Saffron’s and it would have repercussions.
Even so, Kellen didn’t immediately end the kiss, didn’t immediately set Analia aside. He savored the rub of her body against his, the rub of her tongue against his. Savored the soft little sounds she made as they kissed, and the feel of her hands in his hair and on his neck. Savored this first and last dance.
The music changed from slow to fast.
He took a last taste. A last inhalation of her scent, then forced his arms away from her, telling himself he was grateful for Gaige’s warning.
“Thanks for the dance,” he said, turning away from Analia and heading back to the table he shared with the other agents, afraid if he continued looking at her, he’d give in to the urgings of his cock and take her, despite what it would ultimately cost him.