Witchling

"Chase is really quite a sweetie," she added. "And I just wanted to find out what it was like."



"So, what do you think? Was he any good?" I pulled a carton of milk out of the fridge and poured her a glass.



"I don't have much to compare him to," she said, taking the milk. "It was fun—nothing earthshaking, so I'm not sure what all the brouhaha is about. I have more fun chasing mice, to tell you the truth, but I didn't want to trounce Chase's ego, so I told him he was great."



I gazed at her, wondering just how bad in bed Chase must be. The Fae usually responded to most sexual encounters in a way that left porn stars looking like Pollyanna. Or maybe it was that Chase was human and Delilah was… well… only half-human. Whatever the case, I hoped that she wouldn't regret her actions.



"As long as you're okay. We have some serious problems going down." I filled her in on what had happened at the bar, and about the skinwalker. "So Morio's here to help us, thanks to Grandmother Coyote, but it sounds like we can't count on either OIA or the Court and Crown. Whatever's happening there, it doesn't sound good."



Delilah was about to say something when a fracas sounded from the front door. She raced down the hall, and I followed, close on her heels.



"You idiot, don't kill him! Jesus, he got away—can't you do anything right? I'll go get him!" Morio's voice rang.



Delilah and I collided at the entryway. The front door was wide open, and Trillian was standing on the porch, holding a jacket, a confused look on his face. Morio was racing down the driveway faster than I'd seen any human or Faerie run, but I couldn't see who or what he was following. Had the skinwalker found us? But the creature hadn't been wearing clothes, that was for sure. I quietly took the jacket from Trillian's hand and, with a glance at Morio, who had apparently given up the chase and was headed back to the house, motioned for Delilah to follow me.



Once back in the living room, we checked out the coat, finding two things: a knife and a small notebook. As I pressed a hidden switch, a nasty seven-inch blade sprang forth, barely missing my fingers.



"That's no pocket knife," I said, gazing at the switchblade as I closed my eyes, examining the energy of the knife. No dangerous aura, although it didn't feel all that clear, either. No sign of demon-light or Faerie-fire.



"Whoever he was, I think he was human," I said. "The knife isn't enhanced. No magic running through it."



Delilah flipped through the notebook. "There's a name written in the front. Georgio Profeta. No phone number or address, though." She gasped, and I peeked over her shoulder. There, in neat and tidy printing on the page, was an exact copy of what we'd read about the spirit seals. And taped below the writing was a photograph that showed a very large, very snaky, brilliantly white dragon hovering next to one very tired-looking lumberjack. The name next to the photograph read Tom Lane.



I stared at Delilah. "What the hell is going on?" Taking the notebook from her, I skimmed through the rest of the contents, but beyond a few incomprehensible poems, there was little more than the info about the spirit seals and the picture. I held the photo up to the light. The dragon appeared to be a blend of Eastern and Western heritage, a white, snaky beast with majestic wings and long whiskers and horns. The lumberjack was a tall mountain of a man with a wild look in his eye, unkempt beard, and long, flowing hair.



"He looks three sheets off the mainsail," Delilah said. "There's something about his eyes."



I squinted. She was right. An otherworldly glow filled his eyes. And then I caught a glimpse of a chain hanging around his neck. "Want to make a bet this really is Tom Lane? If he's been wearing one of the spirit seals for a long time, it's probably had an effect on his mind."



Just then, Morio and Trillian came trooping back through the door. I motioned them into the living room. "What happened?"



"Your guess is as good as mine," Trillian said. "I heard somebody outside on the porch, and when we got there, that little weasel was sneaking around. But wolf-boy here lost him."



Morio shot him a withering look. "Fox, Svartan. Fox. And yes, I lost him. I've never known a human to run that fast, nor have I ever lost a scent so quickly. It's like he vanished into thin air. But he wouldn't have if you hadn't let him get away." He turned to me. "This idiot had hold of the man's coat, but he didn't have hold of the man. The guy slid right out of the jacket and was off the porch like a jackrabbit."



"How was I to know he'd be so slippery?" Trillian jabbed his finger at Morio's chest. "You weren't much help either—"



"And again, chill out!" My voice echoed through the room. Trillian and Morio backed away, darting accusatory stares at one another. When they'd gone to their corners, I continued. "Nothing tripped my wards, so I'm thinking he's not really a threat. We'll figure out who he is tomorrow. We can ask Chase to run a check on him before he comes over. Meanwhile, Trillian, you and Morio take turns watching the house—make sure nobody gets in. Delilah, before you head to bed, give Menolly a call to make sure she's okay. That skinwalker is still out there. I've got to get some sleep so I can recharge. The fight with the harpy wiped me out, and I can barely keep my eyes open."



The weight of the day suddenly came crashing down on me. I sorely needed to lie down in a quiet, dark room. Heading for the stairs, I was grateful for the sturdy railing, grateful that Delilah had the third story of the house and not me, grateful that there was somebody to keep watch so I didn't have to.



In my room, I stripped off my clothes and climbed under the covers, after making sure the door to the balcony was firmly locked and that nobody was out there hiding. Within moments, my eyes had closed, and I drifted off to sleep.



I don't know how long it was before I sensed a presence in the room. Still dazed, I fought through the layers of consciousness while images of the skinwalker and Rina and Bad Ass Luke raced through my mind as I struggled to wake up. And then, as my eyes fluttered open and I started to sit up, the bed creaked as someone crawled in behind me.



Frantic, I pushed myself to a sitting position, but hands reached out to pull me down and roll me over onto my back. And then I knew who it was. Trillian leaned over me, one hand holding me fast by my waist as the other stroked my hair.



"Oh good gods, can't you wait? I was asleep," I said weakly.



Trillian just shook his head. "Shush… you know we're meant to be together. Let me in." His voice was like smooth velvet.



"Trillian, you're incorrigible. Let me go back to sleep." I pushed against him, but my body rebelled against my mind, and he seemed to sense my ambivalence as he sought my lips, fastening his mouth to mine.



He loomed above me, and I melted into the kiss, which went on and on, his tongue darting like quicksilver to touch my own, his icy eyes glowing against the jet black of his skin. He had unbound his silver hair from the braid, and now it cascaded around me, tickling me with its soft strands.



I thought of all the reasons why this wasn't a good idea, why it had been a mistake the night before and was still a mistake, but none of that seemed to matter. When he touched me it was with a silken fire, and our auras flowed together. I gasped as his mouth slid along my breasts and shoved aside all the reasons why I shouldn't be doing this. What we had between us was too good to deny, and I wanted him, wanted his heart, wanted his body, his cock inside me.



Reaching down, I clasped hold of him. He was rigid and firm, ready at the helm, but then he pushed my arms over my head, holding me down by my wrists as he covered me with kisses, lingering at my breasts, then sliding his lips along my belly. I moaned, and the sparks we created lit up the room. As I spread my legs, he nuzzled me, lingering over the neatly trimmed hair, then pressed my thighs open and plunged his tongue into the nexus of my body, sweeping me into a vortex of pleasure.



"For the sake of the gods, don't stop," I said, my hands gripping the long strands of his hair as his head bobbed up and down between my legs. The fire between us built, lightning and ice, and I cried out once, then twice, as I neared the peak. He raised his head to stare at me with a triumphant gleam in his eyes, and then quickly plunged himself deep within my core. At first thrust, I let out a choked scream, and then I was moving, riding him as he rode me, and all the gods in the heavens couldn't have torn me away.



I could feel him nearing the edge even as I teetered on the cliff, and then we let go, falling. Trillian let out a muffled shout, his head buried between my breasts, as I let down my last guard and gave in to le petit mort.



As the shock waves rolled away, I fell back on the pillows, savoring the ripples racing through my body. Trillian murmured something I couldn't hear, then curled up next to me, his arms wrapping around me like a comfortable and well-worn cloak.



"I've missed you so much," he said. "It hasn't been the same without you. No other woman can do to me what you can, and believe me, I've tried to fill your place."



I stared at him. Trillian was admitting to having feelings for me? I knew he enjoyed me in bed, but to hear him say he missed me was like hearing Donald Trump say he was giving up his empire to join a commune.



"Did you really miss me?" Sleepy and sated, I snuggled deeper under the covers. Damn, it felt good to lie next to somebody.



He nodded, slowly at first. The flicker of a scowl passed over his face. "Nobody's ever left me before, though I've left plenty of women behind. But Camille, there's something about you. I couldn't stop thinking about you while we were together, and I couldn't stop thinking about you after you left. You're like the honeysuckle wine the dryads make—one sip and you never forget."



"I thought that was the peril of loving a Svartan," I said, pushing myself up to a sitting position. I slipped a couple of pillows behind my back to cushion myself. "Trillian, do you know why I left?"



"You told me once, but I didn't pay any attention," he said and for a moment, the Trillian I knew so well shone through. Unless it pertained to his comfort, he never listened to anybody else. At the core, he was selfish, as to some degree were all Faerie.



"I left you because I knew you'd leave me. Svartans are notorious for casting away their partners. In fact, most of your people are so hedonistic you make the Sidhe look like saints. I was trying to protect my heart, Trillian. I am Sidhe; I don't have a problem playing with a crowd. But I'm also human, and when I fall, I fall hard. I couldn't face rejection."



Thirsty, I slipped out of bed and padded into the bathroom, where I poured myself a glass of water. Technology and its wonders. Gotta love it, I thought.



Trillian rose, and once again, I found myself mesmerized by him. His muscles rippled under the moonlight shining through the window, and he stretched, luxuriating like a cat. He gave me a sly smile.



"Camille, oh my Camille… I told you before that I wouldn't cast you away like the others. Why won't you trust me?" As he took a step forward, there was a knock on the door, and it opened. Morio peeked around the corner.



Trillian whirled around, an angry look on his face. Before he could yell at Morio, I stepped between them, unfazed. I was seldom embarrassed by nudity, unless the voyeur showed discomfort. Morio perked up. In fact, he looked downright pleased when he caught sight of me.



"What's up?" I asked.



"Your sister Menolly's on the phone. She wants to talk to you. And the gargoyle is whimpering. I think she's hungry." He glanced at Trillian, and his expression changed to one of boredom. "You're due to relieve my watch in ten minutes," he added, then closed the door behind him.



Trillian gazed at the bed, then looked at me. "You want to fuck him, don't you? I could sense the spark between you downstairs."



I sighed. "What can I say? He's the first man since you that I've found attractive."



He cleared his throat. "Play with the fox if you want. Just don't let him get in the way of us." I heard a warning note in his voice.



I held up my hand before he could go on. "Get dressed. You need to let him get some sleep. I don't want the two of you fighting."



Sliding into my new nightgown—which Trillian liked as much as I thought he was going to—I slid into a pair of fuzzy slippers, then headed downstairs to find out what Menolly wanted.



* * *



CHAPTER 11



The minute I picked up the phone and said hello, Menolly snorted.



"I know what you've been doing, but the question is, with who?" Ever since she'd become a vampire, Menolly had the uncanny ability to ferret out sex, whether it be by smell, sound, or maybe just a buzzing in her head. "Never mind. I'll get the juicy details later. I just called to let you know that I'm headed to my car now. You wanted me to let you know when I left the bar."



I glanced at the clock. Two a.m. Right on schedule. "Okay, but call me when you get in your car and are on the road. Where did you park, by the way? That thing—that skinwalker—is still out there. Also, somebody was prowling around the house tonight. Trillian and Morio couldn't catch him, but we have his jacket and one very interesting notebook."



"Hmmm…" I could almost hear the wheels turn in her head. "I'm parked in Ayers Garage, the one on the corner of Broadway." She hung up, and I slowly replaced the receiver in the cradle. The Capitol Hill district was home to the tattooed freaks and gothic geeks who were about as on the fringe as you could get and still be considered human. They were a lot of fun to hang out with, but the area also housed the junkies and lowlifes.