'Tis the Season for Seduction

It’s been a long time since Caitlyn Burns has been seduced by anything—or anyone. Winters in Dublin, Ireland, are cold and dreary, and without family, the holidays are bleak and lonely. Its four days before Christmas and Caitlyn is still slinging drinks at the local pub and dreading going home to an empty flat, and an even emptier bed.

For FBI agent Lucas Conner, things are heating up. He’s hot on the trail of a prehistoric-art thief who will be the key to bringing down a notorious drug czar. And he just caught a glimpse of the sexy blond waitress at the bar. Who just happens to be an art student at Trinity College and an expert in ancient Ireland.

It’s the perfect excuse to mix business with pleasure. And Lucas is determined to nail both his quarries….

'Tis the Season for Seduction

by

Fiona Summerville

Dublin, Ireland

The empty pint glasses clinked together on the tray as Caitlyn Burns wove her way to a small booth wedged into a corner of O’Brien’s Pub.

It was only midafternoon, but the pub, which was located in the heart of Dublin and just a short walk from Trinity College, was jammed with students celebrating the end of exams and the beginning of Christmas break. Laughter and cheerful chatter reverberated around the room evoking a melancholy smile from Caitlyn as she paused beside the corner booth.

She looked down, about to ask the booth’s occupant for his drink order, when her eyes fell upon one of the yellow lined notepads that covered the table.

"That should be thirty-two hundred B.C.,” she said softly.

Despite the din, Caitlyn thought she heard a grunt of acknowledgement but the dark, neatly trimmed head and broad, tweed covered shoulders remained hunched over a guidebook and notepad, scribbling furiously, completely disregarding her remark.

She worried the inside of her lip, debating whether or not to impose any further, but a quick glance at the research notes set out before him on the table bolstered her resolve.  He obviously had the wrong date so the timeline for whatever research he was compiling would be thrown off because of it. She could let it go, but because the focus of her doctorate was Irish Prehistory, she felt almost obligated to correct his mistake.

Shifting the glass filled tray from one hip to the other, Caitlyn pulled out the pencil she kept tucked behind her ear and tapped it on the yellow pad with the offending date.

“Your date…It’s wrong. It should be thirty-two hundred B.C.”

When the customer looked up Caitlyn’s heart dropped like a stone, and she consciously had to work to keep her jaw and the tray from following suit.

Holy feck! The man was gorgeous. Nerdy black-framed glasses, notwithstanding, the guy was not your typical tourist or student or mortal man, for that matter. No, this broad shouldered hunk with soft amber eyes, looked as if he’d stepped off the cover of one of those romance novels her friend Megan was so fond of reading.

"Sorry?" He leaned toward her, straining to hear her over the raucous crowd. "What’d you say?"

Swallowing her new found case of cotton mouth, Caitlyn bent closer, her voice louder, but also huskier.

"Newgrange. The passage tomb dates back to three thousand B.C., not two thousand."

Mr. Buff and Dreamy turned the page of his guide book and cocked a eyebrow. "You’re right."

“I know I am,” Caitlyn announced proudly. “Prehistoric Ireland, Neolithic to be exact, is my area of focus."

Lucas Conner stared up in amazement at the waitress from behind his fake glasses. He’d been so engrossed in his notes that he hadn’t noticed her near his table, but she certainly had his attention now.  

Not only because she seemed to know her history but because she was breathtakingly beautiful. His groin twitched in absolute male appreciation as his eyes raked across loose tawny waves, eyes that sparkled like emeralds and legs that went on for days sheathed in black tights beneath a flirty black mini-skirt. And when she smiled, Lucas almost forget why he was in Dublin in the first place.

Almost.

"You’re a student?" He asked, regaining his focus.

"A doctoral candidate at Trinity. What can I bring ye?"

"A pint of Guinness. Original, please.”

"Ye’ve got it. Back in a bit."

Lucas shuffled through his notes absentmindedly as he watched the leggy blonde weave her way back to the bar. And when his eyes came to rest on the contents of the notepad in front of him, his interest in her shifted from personal to professional.

He was on the trail of an art thief who specialized in obtaining prehistoric artifacts for a shadowy Miami-based drug lord with discriminating and extremely expensive tastes. Two days ago, the FBI’s Art Crimes Division had received a tip that the thief might be one of the select few spectators who were allowed into the megalithic Newgrange tomb at sunrise on December 22. On that day—and only that day—the rising sun would align at exactly the right angle to illuminate the tomb’s inner chamber.

Despite the fact that art theft ranked fourth in major international crimes after drugs, people trafficking and arms, most law-enforcement agencies—including the FBI—had only limited resources to devote to it. Hence the reason he was the only agent assigned to the case. Not to mention the fact his superiors hadn’t been impressed by the vagueness of the tip. Nevertheless, Lucas had jumped on a plane the next afternoon and landed in Dublin just a few hours ago and was now sitting in a pub, trying to transform himself into a prehistoric art expert. What were the odds that the hot little number that had just taken his drink order was the exact thing he was trying so desperately to become?

His gaze tracked the tawny-haired girl as she delivered drink orders around the room, finally coming to stand in front of his booth.

"That’ll be four euros," she said, smiling down at him. "Or would ye like tae run a tab?"

"A tab, please." He sat back against the dark red leather lined booth, regarding her tentatively. "What’s your name?"

"Caitlyn Burns. And yours?"

"Lucas Conner. Listen, I was wondering—what time do you get off work?"

"And why would ye be askin’, Lucas Conner?"

"I have a proposition for you."

He watched her jaw clench tight before adding quickly.

"A business proposition."

***

"You got a ticket for Newgrange tomorrow?"

Caitlyn’s voice squeaked, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t believe that out of thousands of people – including herself- who put their names in every year for the Newgrange lottery, this guy, an American no less, scored one of the greatest coups in Ireland.

"How in the world did you get so lucky?"

He ignored her question and instead eyed her suspiciously.

"What happened to your accent?"

"Oh. That." She snorted softly and grinned. “I’m an American like you. Born and raised in Sacramento. I did my undergrad and master’s at Stanford, but got a scholarship to work on a doctorate here at Trinity. Two years in Dublin have given me a wee bit of the brogue, doncha know?"

His eyes narrowed as he skimmed a glance over her well-worn black skirt and beer-stained apron.

"You said you’re on scholarship?"

"I am."

"Doesn’t it provide living expenses?"

"It does, but…I have bills. You know how it is."

His eyes held hers. "No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?"

Caitlyn bit her lip. Her personal circumstances no one’s business but her own, yet this man’s steady gaze drew a reluctant response from her.

"I was raised by my grandmother. She didn’t have a lot, only a widow’s pension, but she gave me so much love I never realized we were poor. She died during her hip-replacement surgery three years ago."

A knot formed in Caitlyn’s throat. It had been three years and the loss of her grandmother still managed to choke her up. Coming to Ireland to study had eased some of the pain, but the holidays were always hard. Especially Christmas, when the campus emptied, and everyone went home to their families.

"I’ve almost managed to pay off the hospital and funeral bills," she said with a shrug trying to seem nonplussed.

In truth, she’d struggled. Working two part-time jobs while still managing to complete her studies had not only draining, but depressing. Refusing to wallow any longer on her bleak circumstances, Caitlyn changed the subject.

"Waitressing just pays for life’s little extras. Now what’s this business proposition you mentioned?"

Lucas leaned back against the booth. Despite his relaxed posture, he was wary. The instincts that had kept him alive all those years undercover had set the hair on the back of his neck on end when the sexy waitress, had suddenly lost her Irish accent.

Even though her explanation was plausible, he was still suspicious, so he planned to make a few calls when he got back to his hotel. He needed her supposed expertise, but only if she checked out.

"I want to get the most I can out of my visit to Newgrange.

Lucas knew his answer was vague, but it was also honest. He hoped his early morning excursion to Newgrange would result in the apprehension Salazar’s art thief and, through him, eventually, Salazar.

"I want to understand the tomb’s history and that of the people who constructed it. If you have time after you get off work, maybe you could give me a quick and dirty overview. I’m willing to pay whatever the going rate is at Trinity for private tutoring."

"Are y’now?"

Caitlyn’s lips pursed as she considered his offer and Lucas caught himself wondering how her lush bottom lip would taste. How she would taste. Not liking the detour his thoughts had taken or his body’s reaction to it, he shifted slightly to accommodate the sudden tightening in his groin and began rethinking his offer at the same moment she accepted it.

"I’ll be fished up here at six. I could meet you at the library at Trinity College. We could meet in the reading room in the Library for Ancient Books and Manuscripts. Say 6:30. How does that sound?”

“Sure. That works for me, I guess.”

He glanced at his watch. Four hours would give him plenty of time to check in with the office and make the necessary inquiries into the waitress’ background. If she checked out, he would meet her. If she didn’t, he’d spend the night boning up on ancient Ireland on his own.

Lucas found himself mesmerized by the gentle sway of Caitlyn’s hips as she wove her way back to the bar. Dropping his eyes back down to his notes, he tried to refocus, but his thoughts kept turning back to her every time her lilting voice drifted across the room. He sighed and scrubbed his face with his hand as she crossed the pub with another pint in hand for him. Not good. Not good at all. Caitlyn Burns was fast becoming a tantalizing distraction he couldn't afford.

***

Lucas realized how big a mistake he’d made the moment she entered the secluded alcove in a corner of the reading room some hours later.

Her story had checked out. Caitlyn Burns’ life was easily traceable and verifiable. He’d also been able to gain access to a short summary of her master’s thesis. The girl knew her stuff. Her credentials were impressive and he spent the remaining time he had, preparing himself for a session with a truly gifted academic.

What he hadn’t prepared himself for was the way his heart slammed into his rib cage when she walked into the room, carrying a double stack of books, her cheeks flushed from the cold. Nor had he prepared himself for the way his dick twitched inside his pants at the sight of the hip-hugging jeans and clingy sweater she revealed when she slipped off her pea coat. And, he most certainly hadn’t prepared himself for the warm scent of vanilla that wafted off her skin and swirled around him, drawing him in closer as she sat and opened the first of many tomes.

God. He’d thought her beautiful when he’d first met her in the pub, but here, so utterly at ease and in her element, her beauty was magnified ten-fold. Her green eyes twinkled and shone like emeralds as she shared her incredible depth and breadth of knowledge of the massive stone megaliths that dated back to one of the earliest eras of human history, leaving him awestruck.

No, all in all, he found himself woefully ill prepared for the likes of Caitlyn Burns. The woman was an absolutely lethal combination of beauty and brains. And, as Lucas soon found out, had more experience rutting out antiquities thieves than he did.

"I caught two idiots myself trying to pass themselves off as visiting scholars. Took me all of thirty seconds to realize how little they knew of eighth-century illuminated manuscripts they were reviewing and another thirty to figure out they planned to rip out a page as a souvenir! Can you believe it?!"

He stared at her, completely dumbfounded. Did the woman have any idea how irresistible she was to him at that moment? There she sat, smart as a whip, emerald eyes ablaze with indignation, bottom lip set in a pout that begged to be nibbled. Telling him a tale wrought with intrigue, and, to top it all off, she smelled like a damn sugar cookie.

Lucas choked back a groan disguised in a cough as hunger slammed into him. Shifting in his seat, he forced himself to focus on the floor plan of the tomb Caitlyn had laid out before them on the table.

"Don’t you need those?" Caitlyn asked, nodding to the glasses tucked in his jacket pocket.

Damn! He’d been so entranced by the woman he’d totally forgotten his cover. "Oh...only for fine print," he lied, but pulled them out and put them on anyway.

She shrugged and went back her overview of the tomb layout. Lucas took in the facts and dates and dimensions she doled out until Caitlyn leaned closer to point out a significant design in one of her books and her breast pressed his arm. At her touch his body became a live wire, electrical pulses surging and short circuiting any remaining logic.

"You’ll see this triple spiral at Newgrange."

Lucas sat frozen in place, gritting his teeth as he struggled to maintain his composure. He didn't respond. He couldn't. And before long, she glanced up and their eyes locked. 

Lucas heard the little hitch in her breath, and couldn’t miss the flicker of realization that flared in her eyes. She feels it too. He thought with a stab of fierce male pride as another jolt of heat melted away the last of his resistance.

Giving in to the need that had been on slow burn since their first meeting at the pub, he slid a hand under the curtain of blonde waves and cupped the warm skin of her nape.

Her eyes grew wide. Her mouth parted.

Lucas expected her to pull away, but she didn't. Instead, she leaned in towards him and captured his lips with hers in a mind blowing kiss.

Oh man...was he ever screwed.

Autumn Rain

Abyrne Mostyn has joined us again with a short  romantic offering that suits the season well. Fate is a fickle mynx, and uses  all means in conspiracy against us.

 

 

Autumn Rain

by

Abyrne Mostyn 

 

Only the weeping willow remained unchanged. The other colorful leaves, long since path pavers on the walk, betrayed the lateness of the season. Skylar was down there with the fallen rainbow along the curb feeling cast off and walked on. Shareese had been the cause. Weeks had become months since they had had anything more than an argument between them and still he could not bring himself to believe there was anyone else for him.

Love was like that. Loss was like that too. The difference was perspective and a healthy dose of reality, but he could not bring himself to choke down the bitter pill. She was off somewhere dancing with someone else, without a thought for him. He didn’t think so, he knew so having seen her in the pub window bedecked and bedazzled for the night. It was one more slap to the cheek he had already turned.

Walking around with his eyes on the ground, he missed what was in front of him, then and now. Realities past and future were lost to the drek that balanced on the sewer grate waiting to fall. He wasn’t alone. Megan missed missing the collision with Skylar just as surely as neither looked up to see the oncoming person in their path. Misery, company, cliché.

The mad tangle of limbs, the hasty apologies, and the recognition of a kindred soul were the matter of a moments glance up after the fall. The universe is a conspiracy. Sometimes only to show you what it is that you need to see when you refuse to look.

Silent seconds passed into minutes and more measurable units of time as they grappled with the notion that somehow words weren’t necessary yet to convey the gaping hole they were wearing under their clothes. Like running a wet finger around the rim of a crystal glass the monotone soliloquy of each played between them with the sounds of a concert orchestra to accompany the pain they wore on their faces. Before they realized the leaves no longer crunched beneath their feet, or that the November rain would wash away the somber death knell they had been building, the moment was broken and the tiniest piece of patch snuck from the edge of each hole toward their center with the laughter that followed their awkward ‘Hi’ as they uttered at them at the same time.

The universe is a conspiracy. Walk with your eyes open, stand in the rain, and see the future for what it can be. They did.

 

Check out Abyrne's newet release: 

Through-Oracles-Mist-Vengelys-Series

 

Oral Dilemma: Little Girl Blue

Will Roxanne ever catch a break? Will she ever find happiness or is fate determined to keep her blue?

 This image is not owned by Storytime Trysts all copyrights reserved to artist. 

 

Oral Dilemma: Little Girl Blue

by

Ellie Mack

“Fired? What do you mean fired? What the hell Mike?” I couldn’t believe it. Surely he was joking.

“Sorry, you ain’t waitressing for me anymore.” He was smiling but there was no hint of remorse in his eyes.

I looked at him in shocked disbelief, standing there staring at him for several minutes.

“ Mike, you’re an ass. Always got to be the joker. That’s just wrong man.” It was Johnny D, in that low sexy voice of his. “Roxanne sweetheart, you got some real soul. Since you are currently unemployed I got an opportunity for you.”

I turned to Johnny, then back glaring at Mike. “I’m listening”

“How ‘bout you open for the band next week on vocals. It’s a paid gig.”

I turned slowly to Johnny. “Seriously? What?” He had my full attention now.

Mike cleared his throat. “See, if you are in the band you can’t waitress. We’ve been wanting to do the live band thing again ever since Lorna left us 3 years ago. Me and Locks here knew last night when you sang that you had the sound we were looking for. I can’t afford to pay you to waitress and sing. Not until we start drawing a large crowd. It would be a raise actually. What do you say Rox?”

I was a little bit miffed at how he did it, but I had to admit it was exciting. Tara and I had the funds from mom’s house, and I felt like I could take a chance and have some fun. Plus, I figured if it didn’t work out I could go back to college.

“Sure, I’ll do it.”

“Alright then” Johnny D smiled. For an older guy he was downright sexy. That smile was devastating. It was decided when we would practice and where. Johnny had a full studio at his house. Mike planned on opening the following Saturday which didn’t give us much time. We met every day at two o’clock. I learned a lot about the guys, we learned about each other’s style and signals. Things just seemed to click as if we’d played together for years.

Of all the silly things Mike bought me an outfit to wear for my first performance. We had a regular party with pizza and drank to celebrate the night before. I wore my leather pants and soft flowing Bohemian style top that Mike selected for me. It wasn’t my usual style but it was nice. After about ten minutes I swore I’d never go back to plain jeans again. Other than a brief moment worrying about my makeup and hair I found myself completely relaxed as if I’d found my true calling in life.

It was difficult to think of it as work really, but in fact we were earning a few bucks. Mike had hired some college students to plaster flyers all over town and on every windshield for our debut. There were maybe forty people there that first night. The crowd steadily increased each week.

We mixed classical blues songs with new originals including several I had written. I was so inspired, I dug out old notebooks that I had songs in. Years of heartache, years of dad never being there, feeling unwanted gave me material to draw on. It was my life and emotions poured into song. I rewrote most of them, but a few were good in their elemental simplicity.

By the month’s end we had standing room only at the club. I’d discovered my own style in clothing, favoring my boots and a leather skirt with a tailored shirt. Chunky jewelry was a luxury I could afford now so I had plenty of it. I knew this ride wasn’t going to last, but I was determined to ride it to the end, budgeting my money with a portion for playing and investing the rest.

Life was good. I was happy, Tara was happy Mike was happy and I prepared myself for the bottom to drop out. It had been five months since this ride began, and I just knew that the end was coming. Knew that for me the ride never lasted.

At the end of the fifth month I had made a decision. I’d get as many songs out of me, out of my system as I could. Maybe it would help me get over whatever it was that plagued me.

It was a grueling night. It had been a long day with aggravation after aggravation, and the evening was just one bit of trouble after another. I walked to the bar between sets rolling my neck to ease the tension. “Make it a double Mark."

“Hello Roxanne. You look amazing. Been a long time.”

I knew that voice. My heart skipped a beat. Could it be?

Just Another After School Special

Read the last installment here!

 

Just Another After School Special

Part Eight

By

Eva Rayne

Friday morning I slipped in the class room door just as Nick was pulling out the attendance sheet out of his bag.

“I'm glad you could join us this morning, Izzie,” Nick said, handing the attendance sheet to a girl in the front row to start passing around. His tone was even, with a touch of reprimand, but the sparkle in his eyes and the secret smile on his lips when he looked back over told me he was still thinking about last night.

“I'm sorry it was a late night,” I was sure by the smile on my face as I slid into my usual seat gave away how I had spent my night and I tried to not make eye contact with Nick and give it all away.

“You gotta love thirsty Thursday around here, don't you?” Nick said with a chuckle and the room filled with a chorus of positive responses. I noticed for the first time how many people had bottles of water or Gatorade.

Nick chuckled, “How about since it is Friday we just go over some of the homework problems then get the hell out of here?”

His suggestion was met with cheers, sighs of relief and even a few whistles, and a few cringes as the volume in the room rose.

“Volunteers to the board, any problems you had questions about from Wednesday's homework,” Nick instructed, pulling a handful of dry erase markers out of his bag and leaving them on the table.

Slowly, a handful of people made their way to the front of the room, notebooks or torn out pieces of paper in their hands. Nick caught my eye as I unzipped my back pack and I smiled before pulling out my notebook. The same notebook that Nick had written his number in just a few weeks ago.

“While they're putting those up there,” Nick started again, “Let's talk Halloween.” Almost everyone in the room stopped talking. Halloween next Thursday night was the main topic on campus.

“I'm not stupid, I know everyone of you is gonna end up going out next week so...” he trailed off.

“So you're going to give us the day off?” a football player asked from the back of the room, looking like Christmas had come early.

“I am,” Nick confirmed, chuckling. “And anyone who dresses up for class on Wednesday will get 5 bonus points.”

The rest of class passed quickly. We couldn't have been in there twenty minutes. Most of the time the conversation focused around Halloween, who was throwing a party and what everyone was dressing up as.

When Nick dismissed the class I hung back a little, copying down a problem from the board. Once the last person left the room he came over, sitting on the desktop next to me.

“We cut it a little close this morning,”he said with a smile, leaning over and kissing me.

“We'll just have to be more careful next time,” I said, unable to keep the cheesy smile off my face.

“You want there to be a next time?” he asked, playfully tugging on a strand of my hair as I zipped my backpack.

“Yeah, I do,” I told him, looking up into his sparkling eyes, “Do you?”

He grabbed my hand, pulling me up and to him, “I do,”

And that was how we spent the next month. We stole kisses after class, secret smiles, movie nights at his apartment. The days leading up to Thanksgiving break flew by.

“Are you gonna miss me?” Nick asked me the last Sunday before break, curled up on his couch.

“Maybe,” I teased, looking up to kiss his cheek.

“Only maybe, huh?” he asked, tickling my sides.

“Stop it!” I cried between giggles, trying to squirm away from him.

After a long moment he stopped, pulling me to him and kissing me instead, “Still only maybe?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper against my ear.

“I guess I'll miss you,” I admitted, kissing him again.

“Good, cause I'm gonna miss you,” he told me, laying down and pulling me down on top of him.

“Then I better give you something good to remember,” I said, a sly smile on my lips as I leaned down, kissing him hard.

Oral Dilemma: Jam

  Roxanne has been buried in grief so long she's lost all confidence in herself. Sometimes when we least expect it, opportunity knocks.   

 Storytime Trysts does not own copyrights to this image. 

Oral Dilemma: Jam

By

Ellie Mack 

Read Part 1 here. 

Read Part 2 here. 

Read Part 3 here.

Read Part 4 here. 

Read part 5 here.  
Read part 6 here.
Read part 7 here.  
Read part 8 here. 
Read part 9 here.
Read part 10 here.  
Read part 11 here.
Read part 12 here 
Read part 13 here
Read part 14 here.
Read part 15 here. 

Read Part 16 here 

.

    Sirens blared, loud sirens going off that caused instant stabbing pain inside my head. A chain reaction of explosions that I just knew was killing brain cells. I covered my head with the blanket, praying for it to stop. After a few seconds it did but then restarted a few minutes later. It woke me enough to have to use the bathroom. As I staggered down the hall I realized it wasn’t sirens but rather my phone.

It took a concerted effort to read my phone, finally just hitting replay on my voice messages.

“Roxy this is Mike, I need you to come in at 2. It’s eleven and I haven’t heard back. Are you there?“There was a beep then another message.

“Roxanne, doll. I really need you to get up. You have to be here at 2. Call me! That’s it I’m coming over if you haven’t called me back by noon.”Again there was a beep.

It rang again in my hand “Hello?”

“Good. You’re finally up.”

“Finally? What the heck Mike, I’m not scheduled till seven.” I searched the refrigerator while talking.

“It’s nearly noon, I need you here by 2. Well before that actually. Change of plans doll, stuff happens you know? Tell you what, I’ll be there in half an hour to pick you up.”

It figured that when I had a hangover Carly would skip her shift. “No Mike I can be there.”

“You won’t regret it.”

“ I already do.” I yelled into the phone.

I could hear him laugh on the other end.“I’ll be there in a half an hour.” He hung up on me. I closed the fridge empty handed and went to shower.

At twelve thirty there was pounding on my door. “Ugh. For the love of God Mike stop it!” I screamed as I opened the door.

He stood there grinning like a kid with a new toy. “Wanted to make sure you hadn’t gone back to bed.” He shoved a bag of bagels and a large coffee at me. “You’re gonna like this Roxy.”

I groaned as he followed me to the kitchen. Coffee was little consolation for the explosion in my head.

“Tara around? She can come in with you as well.”

“I think she’s in class” Then I looked at the clock. “Oh, well she should be back any minute.

“Good, good!” Mike was agitated. I hadn’t seen him this excited since, well I hadn’t ever.

I listened to him ramble on about getting the band together, I envisioned a group of middle aged men like in that movie “Wild Hogs”. I couldn’t help but smile. There was a gleam in Mike’s eye that I hadn’t seen before. “What’s going on Mike?” I tore off a hunk of bagel and chewed.

“New thing! Well, a renewed thing. Gonna make some changes.”

“When did you decide all this?” I chewed another bite.

“Last night. Thought about it for a while, been wanting to do it but last night made up my mind. It’s time.”

Just as I finished my bagel, Tara came in. She was surprised to see him, but quickly agreed to go in with us. She changed clothes, then grabbed the bagel to eat on the way. There was only two times before that Mike had picked me up. The first was to get my official waitress uniform, he paid for the outfit and told me what was acceptable and not acceptable. He didn’t want any of the girls working for him to dress inappropriately. He saw a bit of his daughter in all of us. The second time my car was in the shop and it was pouring down rain.

When we arrived at the club Carly was working. This made me wonder what was up even more as I figured I was covering her shift.

“I thought you said Carly couldn’t make her shift?” I looked at Mike suspiciously.

“Never said that doll, you just assumed.” I could have sworn his eyes just twinkled. I really hated mind games but there was a certain fascination in watching Mike like up like a Christmas bulb.

I worked in the back room stocking the shelves occasionally catching a glimpse of Mike with an energy and excitement that I’d not seen before. I moved to the kitchen, cleaning the shelves and work surface. I heard several voices with Mike along with a great deal of clattering noise.

“Roxanne, come out here.”

I wiped my hands on my apron and grabbed a tray. Four distinguished gentlemen sat around the largest table with Mike. I took their orders then returned with their drinks.”

Once the food was served, I went back to the kitchen helping Mark with food preparations. I chopped vegetables,acting as his sou chef. Tara came in and took over what I was doing grinning like a fool. She told me to clean up and go check with Mike.

I wondered what was going on that I didn’t know about. It seemed everyone kept looking at me strangely. Were they talking about how poorly I did on the karaoke thing last night? That thought only made me more self conscious and wondering what was up.

Pushing through the double doors, I saw that the guys were no longer at the table but setting up instruments on the stage. I busied myself bussing the table, certain that it was what Mike wanted, to make sure we made a good impression on his friends. It was really good to see him in good spirits. It was apparent that he was excited for his friends to be there. As I cleaned, I listened to them warm up. The bass player resembled Bruce Willis with the cool confidence of a seasoned performer. The keyboardist began running his fingers over the keys as if he was caressing his lover. His long elegant fingers moved in fluid motions as his long jet black hair fell forward over his eyes as he played. Soon they were moving into familiar riffs of songs that I recognized. I couldn’t help but hum along. It was a secret passion that few people knew I had, a very selfish indulgence.

When they began playing through “Careless Love”, I couldn’t help but hear the soulful sounds of Ray Charles, singing softly under my breath. The guys sounded fantastic together. They sounded better than some bands I’d heard in clubs.

“Love, oh love, oh careless love. Whoa Love, oh love, ohhh careless love. I’ll tell you what careless love can do.”

“Roxy” Mike motioned me over to the band. I blushed, worrying that maybe I got a little loud in my humming and singing. I tucked my cloth in my apron walking sheepishly towards the stage. “Meet the guys. This is Chubs” He introduced the man on drums. He was far from chubby, in fact he looked gaunt and haggard. I shook his hand.

“This is Johnny D on keys” He reached his hand to shake mine, a smooth low sultry voice like Lou Rawls.

“Nice to meet you.” He grinned as he squeezed my hand. “You’re right Mike, she’s a looker.”

I blushed. Wasn’t expecting any compliments, and I knew I certainly wasn’t a “ looker”.

“Sandman on lead.” I shook his hand, he nodded to me not saying a word.

“And this sad case over here is my brother Matt, but we call him Locks.” He shyly extended his hand nodding.

“Guys this is Roxanne Winters, the doll with the voice.” I blushed smiling. “Join us in a little jam session Rox. We have the words printed off for you if you need them.” He handed me a bundle of pages stapled together. “Sing for us doll.”

They started on Kris Kristofferson’s song “Help Me Make IT Through the night.” A smooth transition slipping into “ Aint No Sunshine”. I couldn’t believe they were playing my favorites and letting me sing with them. After that Sandman kicked into some awesome riffs leading into “Damn Your Eyes.”

I loved that song, poured myself into it not caring what anyone thought, just feeling it all the way to the end never looking at the lyrics.

“ You ain’t jokin’ Mike, she got it.” It was Johnny D. “Can we do that one she sung?”

Locks fingers were magic on the strings. The soulful mourning that poured forth was better than Santana, similar to Bonamasso. I started in on Baddest Blues. I saw Tara lean against the bar, just listening, her ankles crossed elbows propped on the bar, tears flowing. There were a few people that had come in for the afternoon that seemed to enjoy the jam.

The last song the guys did was “Rock Me Baby.” I imagined the divine Etta James singing as I belted it out, putting a little extra passion into the song. It was a sensuous song after all, the sultry wails with a touch of raunch, made the lyrics “rock me baby, like I ain’t got no backbone” really hit home with me, pouring my heart into it.

When we finished, the place was packed and the applause was deafening.

Mike turned around grinning like a fiend, happy with his friends in the band. He looked out over the audience, basking in the applause and said: “Roxanne Winters, you’re fired.”

Bad Moon Rising

Bad Moon Rising

By

Eva Rayne

I couldn't help but cry out as Korbin ran the alcohol covered gauze over the bleeding gash on my side.

“Fucking wolf,” I swore, taking a swig of the whiskey Liam had left on the night stand.

“I'm sorry, Rikky,” Korbin apologized as he cleaned the last of the blood from my side. By the amount of blood on the rags and gauze on the bed the cut between my ribs was deeper than I had originally thought. “This is going to need stitches, hold this here while I grab the other first aid kit out of the other room.”

I held the fresh piece of gauze against my side with one hand while taking another shot of the whiskey with the other. The alcohol was starting to take the edge off the stinging pain when Korbin came back in from the room Aaron and Liam were sharing next door.

“Where did the guys go?” I asked through gritted teeth as Korbin sat on the edge of the bed carefully peeling the blood soaked gauze away and letting out a low whistle.

“They said they were gonna go to the bar up the street and get something to eat,” he rummaged through our make shift first aid kit and pulled out the curved needle and a spool of black embroidery thread.

“Yeah, and drink off a shitty hunt,” I grumbled.

“Yeah, that too,” Korbin chuckled as I took another long swig of the Jack Daniels. “Here, let me see that,” he held his hand out for the bottle and I reluctantly handed it over.

I immediately regretted it as he poured a large amount over my wound. “God fucking damn it Korbin!” I swore, biting my fist to keep from screaming.

“I'm sorry Rikky, I had to though, it had to be cleaned somehow,” he explained, wiping away the excess whiskey and blood.

“Warn a girl next time, will you?” I bit my lip until I could taste blood, trying to keep my tears in check.

“Only if you promise there isn't going to be a next time,” he tossed back, handing me the bottle and putting my hand over a clean rag against my side to keep it in place as he threaded the needle. “I mean come on, Rikky. Pissing off a werewolf on the fucking full moon? What in hell's name were you thinking?” His voice was full of anger, but it was the large amount of concern there as well that surprised me.

“Bitch had it coming,” I muttered, remembering how she had looked at him earlier that day, how she kept making excuses to touch him. I pressed the rag a little harder against my side, focusing on the pain and not his fingers against my hip as he turned me slightly so he could get a better look at my savaged skin.

“You're gonna get yourself killed one of these days,” he snapped, his fingers digging into my skin momentarily causing me to gasp. “Sorry, here come lay on your side so I can sew you up.”

I moved over to the bed without saying anything, slightly taken aback by his sudden mood shift. I stretched out on my side as Korbin stood up, the soft comforter felt good against my sore, feverish skin.

“I'm sorry, Erika,” Korbin said softly, pulling the now red rag away from my side and sitting next to me. “You just really scared me back there, and this could have been so much worse,” he explained as he punctured my skin to make the first stitch.

I pressed a hand against my mouth trying to hold in a strangled cry. “I know, it was stupid. I mean, telling a cornered werewolf to bite me? Yeah, not my smartest move ever,” I tried chuckling to cover my heavy breathing.

“You're lucky she didn't bite you, that all you got was a side full of claws.” Korbin's fingers were gently against my torn ribs and his stitches were slow and careful as he tried not to tug excessively on my skin.

“I know,” I admitted through gritted teeth, trying not to think about what was going on with my side.

The next several minutes went by in a long, almost stressful silence. I tried to ignore the tears that were building up, and then running down my cheeks. Finally, I could fell Korbin knotting the thread and cutting it with the pocket knife he pulled out of my back pocket.

I watched Korbin run the needle through a lighter flame to clean it after cleaning the blood off on his jeans. I didn't move as he finished packing up the first aid kit and threw away all of the blood stained cloth. When he sat back down, Korbin carefully taped a clean piece of gauze that he had left out over his careful stitches.

Once he finished he left his hand resting softly on my hip just above my jeans. “Erika, come here,” he said softly.

I sat up slowly, rolling my shoulder, trying to stretch the stiff muscles and wincing slightly as my blood stained bra pulled away from my skin. Korbin held out his hand, offering my two white Tylenol. “Here, this will take the edge off.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly, swallowing them with a shot of whiskey before leaving it on the night stand and leaning into Korbin. Korbin wrapped his arm around my waist and I sighed, resting my head on his shoulder, exhaustion washing over me like a wave.

“I'm sorry about earlier,” Korbin said into my hair after a minute. “You scared the shit out of me this afternoon, you know,” his hold on my waist tightened.

“I know, I was stupid,” I said studying the carpet.

“You were, and I swear to God, you ever go into a situation like that again and I'll start locking your ass in a hotel room while we go on hunts,” he threatened, his voice a low growl.

“But it wasn't just that,” he took a deep breath, “Seeing you fly across the room like that, crumpled on the floor and not moving. With all that blood, I thought you were dead.” I felt him shudder and I snuggled closer to him.

“I'm okay, a little beat up and sore, but I'll live,” I reassured him, resting my hand lightly on his and he intertwined our fingers, his other arm still wrapped securely around me.

“I don't even know what to say Erika, I didn't think twice about shooting that girl, I just had to make sure you were still alive, to know that you were okay. I don't think I was convinced that you were going to be alright until we got back here and you started demanding booze.” I chuckled and he finally relaxed enough to let out a little laugh of his own.

“I promise I'll be more careful,” I whispered, looking up at him.

“You better be,” he let go of my hand and brought his hand up to my face, gently cupping my cheek, carefully wiping away tear streaked eyeliner with the pad of his thumb.

Before I could say anything else Korbin leaned down and kissed me gently. It was soft, the complete opposite of the way our lives together had been up until this point – hard and fast and dark. Instead, this kiss was soft and sweet, full of the promise of more, and of happier times.

When he pulled away, his fingers running through my hair, I noticed a sparkle in his eyes that I had never seen before. “Korbin,” I whispered, resting my hand lightly on his chest.

“Yes, Rikky?” his voice was a husky whisper as he rested his forehead against mine.

“Hi,” I slid my hand up his chest, resting on the back of his neck, pulling him back in, finding his lips with mine. Korbin's hands were warm against my bare sides, leaving tingling sparks over my skin as he pulled me in closer.

We stayed like that for several minutes, holding each other close. When we finally separated, I clutched Korbin's t-shirt, my vision swimming. Korbin steadied me, carefully moving me into his lap as I swayed.

“Erika? Are you okay?” The concern in his voice touched me in a way I hadn't expected as he carefully brushed my hair behind my ear.

“I'm okay, just a little dizzy,” I admitted, resting my head on his shoulder, cuddling into him and trying to avoid the pain in my side.

“Is your side okay? Are you bleeding again?” I smiled at his concern.

“I'm okay, I promise,” I assured him, running my fingers around the bandage to prove that they would come back blood free. Only they didn't.

“You were saying?” Korbin asked, raising an eyebrow. Confused I looked down.

“It's my bra,” I said after a short investigation, “The stitches are fine, it's my clothes that are still bloody.”

“Come here,” he said, helping me to my feet. “Do you want a shirt?” he asked, gesturing to his duffel bag that had been tossed in the corner when we had come back from putting down the wolf.

“Yes, please,” I said with a small smile. I couldn't help but smile as Korbin crossed the room, rummaging through his bag to find something for me to wear.

“Do you need help?” Korbin asked as I reached around to try and unhook my bra without pulling at my stitches.

“Thank you,” I said turning around, giving him access to the clasp. His fingers were warm against my skin, leaving a tingling trail down my arms as he slowly slid the straps off my shoulders.

When I heard the fabric land in the small pile of torn dirty clothes I turned around, looking up at Korbin through my thick eyelashes. I couldn't help but notice as his gaze flickered over my body before he helped me into his large t-shirt which fell down to mid thigh.

“You should probably rest,” he said finally, breaking the easy silence that filled the room as he held my hips, my hands resting on his chest.

“Whatever you say, doctor,” I joked, standing on tip toe in order to brush a light kiss against his lips. “Will you stay with me?” I asked, suddenly worried that he would leave and meet up with the guys at the bar.

“Whatever you want, Rikky,” he promised, pulling me a little closer and kissing my forehead. “Lay down, I'll get the light.” With a smile he let me go.

Yawning I took the few steps back over to the large hotel bed as I unbuttoned my blood splattered jeans, kicking them off before climbing into bed.

Once I was curled up under the blanket Korbin flipped the light off, joining me in bed under the blanket. The second he was laying down I snuggled up next to him, laying on my good side, resting my head on his chest as he wrapped his arms securely around me.

“Thank you for taking care of me tonight,” I whispered, loving the feeling of his fingers drawing absentminded circles on my hip.

“Of course, Erika. I'm just glad you're okay,” he kissed the top of my head lightly. “Go to sleep, hun.”

I nodded against him, whispering, “Good night, Korbin.”