'ware Wishes

Melissa Glisan

Ware Wishes Book 1: Satin Knights By Melissa Glisan

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Satin Knights 1: WARE WISHES

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized el ectronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. WARE WISHES Copyright (c) 2005 by Melissa Glisan ISBN: 1-59836-082-5 Cover art and design (c) 2005 by Sable Grey All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America. For information, you can find us on the web at www.VenusPress.com

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DEDICATION

For my husband, D.J. You’ve always heard the music.

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Prologue Dissonance

“Where the hell am I?” Mark struggled to sit up, his head pounded in sync with his heartbeat. He groaned as the pressure behind his eyes seemed to intensify as he hit vertical. At least the room was pitch dark, he clutched handfuls of hair, the room couldn’t spin too badly in the dark. Or could it? It certainly felt like it was spinning. His stomach felt swollen and tried lurching upwards against his diaphragm. Not wanting to move he tried using a foot to search around the floor for a garbage can. His bare toes felt nothing but cold tile and a steel leg at the end of the bed. Steel? That couldn’t be right. He’d fallen asleep in the arms of a fallen angel on a thick feather mattress with mounds of pillows. The last thing he remembered was her throaty purr promising to give him the experience of a lifetime. Come to think of it, he let go of his head and with a shaking hand felt the mattress, it was thin and hard, not the one he fell asleep on. “No,” he moaned into the top of his unbuttoned shirt. He swore he wouldn’t get so hammered that he had blackouts again, but here he was. The sour smell wafting up from his shirt nearly undid his control. The need to throw up spurred him to his feet and on a short tour of the small cell like room. There was nothing in the room beyond the steel framed bed, no windows that he could feel along the rough concrete block walls, not even a door. Panic made his heart race, nearly driving him to his knees as his head exploded in waves of violent pain. Retching, gorge rose and nearly strangled him jetting from his mouth into a corner of the small block room. Choking on thick ropes of mucus he wiped his mouth on the back of his shirt sleeve, leaning his face against the cold comfort of the wall, Mark slowly shrugged the soiled garment off his shoulders and tried to mop his sweating face. Lay down, he commanded his shaking body. The bed was an eternity away at the end of his fingertips. The cold tiles under his hands and feet felt slick as he tried to crawl 5

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the scant feet to the hard camp bed. Panting he rolled onto the frame and closed his eyes until the room felt steady again. Feeling tired, Mark panted under the onerous task of thinking, he was gripped in lethargy but his muscles were tensed to the point of shaking with palsy. His insides felt on edge, almost like anticipation. Still breathing soft and shallow, he focused on the ceiling above. His eyes felt hot and dry, sticky, yet tears rolled from the corners of his eyes, streaking wet lines across his temples to drip in his hair. Staring into the darkness everything seemed to fade from blackness into a mottled darkness like peering through the surface of an algae covered pond. His eyes traced the edges of the dark seeking the glints of light that had to be hiding. He felt the sharp pieces of hidden light calling to him; find me they whispered like cobwebs against his brain. Slowly his heart slowed in his chest, easing pressure he hadn’t realized had grown. A sudden luminescence burst across his eyes but he couldn’t blink, couldn’t move. After images of cold radiant light skittered across his blackening gaze, reality rippled across the top of the room carrying flotsam through the darkness. Whispers of sound built, assailing his ears with their pleas--find me, touch me, love me, hurt me, die for me…on and on they chanted in different tones and cadences building like a vortex in the airless room. A riptide of force pulled his unresponsive body from the lumpy iron hard bed, slumping him on the floor in a subservient position. But what am I kneeling before, his mind gibbered in terror locked in a small dark spot far from the controls of the rubbery body that housed it. Different parts of his body flared to sudden life, tingling and burning first painfully then erotically like the rush before orgasm. But something was wrong, when his body titled over the edge instead of the peaceful release of sex he felt a sharp stabbing pain ratchet up his spine pushing him to the edge of unconsciousness. The air stilled, went silent then carried a faint metallic odor, just a tinge of summer rain with darker undertone of carrion death. Where am I? His mind screamed, what is this place? Something heard and prepared to answer. He felt the difference on the air and quailed inside his soul. Whatever it was it turned the knob on reality, streaks of multicolored paints and tints oozed down the walls from a spot blacker than the darkness that gripped him. Then it was speaking, a sexless voice of rust and age. “Welcome Man Child of the Mother,” the voice grated on his ears and senses, he struggled to get away but nothing happened except for a line of sweat forming to fall 6

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along the base of his spine. Mark panicked he couldn’t feel anything inside his body, there was nothing. No control, no feeling. The voice in the dark had no form, no warmth, it gave away no smell, it simply was. The harder he fought to regain control, the more amused it became laughing low and dirty around the shells of his ears but never moving from above or was it before him? Finally spent, Mark gave up, drowning in the waves of silent amusement. Rumbles of sibilant laughter surrounded his prisoner mind, engulfing it like a subterranean river. The sensation morphed from that of warm and wet to a raging dance of needles across his skin. “Man Child you are here to learn and to entertain me, open your mind, your memories and this will be pleasurable.” Warm hands caressed his body under his clothes, impossible lips found his covered flesh and tasted, teased his manhood to throbbing life. Scents of musk and sex cradled his head. For a moment he relaxed and it was in his mind – throbbing, pounding. His brain felt swollen, as if it was straining against the too small bones of his skull as whipcords of agony slashed and hacked at the lumpy grey matter. He had the image of a small bent figure capering through the neurons and pathways with a length of barbed wire formed into a whip, galloping and swinging the flail when his mind didn’t give up its secrets fast enough. Hot salt rain fell against his lips, instinctively he drank, then coughed. Whatever it was doing, it was making his nosebleed from the torment. “Give up your secrets,” it growled against his skin, raking the flesh. Mark let go, begging for mercy. It was granted. Suddenly he found himself standing in his dove gray tuxedo from his high school prom, the room was wide and empty but for his date. She stood before him shimming in a dress of pale pink ice, crying as her voice swelled in song; a love song for another man. He wanted to rip her dress off, carry her to the floor and make her his and his alone. “Why not?” the voice hissed in pleasure as it delved deeper into his mind. Mark was lost to flashes of light as the memory reformed around his basest desires. She begged, pleaded and bled whimpering his name. Lost to the sensations of the moment he stopped caring if the experience were real or fantasy. Hours later, or was it days? Mark couldn’t tell how long he’d been out this time, as he woke to darkness. He prodded the memories of uninhibited sex and couldn’t find a seam denoting dream. Shifting on the bed he hissed in pain, it felt like someone had sandpapered his cock. Pushing aside an overstuffed pillow he sat and reached for a light 7

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switch. Suddenly there was light in his world, but all it showed him was a bare block room with a puddle of rancid puke on the floor. Only this time he was naked. He looked at his body in shock, the skin was abraded, raw, scratches and gouges criss-crossed his skin. As if a door somewhere opened, the air stirred and his nose was clogged with the smell of wet leaves and mold. “You have earned the reward you’ve enjoyed, now you must pay for my services.” The voice was back, it wasn’t a dream. This time Mark was prepared to fight, he had control again. Moving to the center of the floor he crouched looking around for the source of the sound. After long minutes scanning the small room he stood and relaxed against one of the walls. Without warning the wall disappeared and arms grasped him from behind, holding him, bending him, pinching at the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He struggled but it only seemed to encourage the hands touching him, parting him, working his flesh. The owner of the voice watched the thin young man try to escape and smiled. He drank in the human’s pain and humiliation as if it were a fine wine. He tired of this game with his partner-family, all he had been fed for centuries were men, he wanted a woman, one he could fill with his seed and send out in the world to bear his child. The images of the women lately had been strangely the same. All featured a small, curvy, dark haired hoyden, but this last one held memories that intrigued him, a willow thin soul-singer. He made his decision. Waving his hand he stepped through the liquid silver mirror of the center-point and entered the room at the Retreat. Bending over the sobbing male he whispered, “The MacInnes delivered you to me, warn the soul-singer, tell her…” When the male tried to pretend he didn’t know who the message was for his tormentor smiled and took up the reins of instruction. Mark’s body became a prison and his mind a field littered with the instruments of pain he was encoded to deliver. The quiet of the late fall night shattered under the blaring chirrup of the phone. A small hand grabbed at the offending thing perched on the painted nightstand dragging it to a cloud of unruly blonde hair that mumbled, “Hello?”

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Part One The Rhythm

Purple hues of night washed across the warm winter Dallas skyline as Jennifer stood alone atop her small five story apartment building. Her long blonde hair whipped about her face while a distracted hand tried to keep it from obscuring her view. The wishing star twinkled far away. It seemed so dim as it fought against the superficial sun created by the urban lighting. But there it is, she smiled, the same as it was at home. There were so many things she missed about home. No, Jenn ruefully corrected that thought, not so much the things but the people, well maybe one special person. She’d traded the open plains and small ranching community for a chance at the Big Time. Looking over the heat hazed rooftops that speared the horizon, she made her nightly wish. It may not be much of a view, she grimaced, but it is better than going back down there. There being the apartment she shared with her college friend - the community mattress back. Almost nightly the amorous adventures of her “liberated” friend forced her to run. Am I running away from the spectacle or myself? Looking towards the first stars twinkling in the sky, she sighed and made a second, naughty wish. Laughing at the urge she forced herself to walk towards the stairs, the allotted two hours were up for Jane and her latest Romeo. Jenn refused to spend another night on the damned roof. Squaring her shoulders she set off for a show down. Taking a deep breath she braced for a confrontation and opened the door. Stunned, Jenn stood transfixed watching as Jane stretched languidly on the bed. Covers were strewn all over, blankets scattered on the floor, the coverlet hung over the head board and the sheet was bunched around the hips of the male who stalked off to the bathroom. Jane smiled like a cream fed cat and purred in the back of her throat arching her breasts for the kiss of cool air circulating in the room. 9

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Her hair was a silken ripple of darkest sin flowing across the bed. The ebony color was a violent contrast to her milk white skin that was flushed from the afternoon's exercises. She titled her head back on the bed watching the open door of the apartment. It was one of Jane’s well-advertised fantasies, for her roommate to walk in and be enticed to join. Sprawled on the bed Jane suckled her fingers, licking each one before allowing the wetted digits to stray gossamer light down the warm rounds of her full breasts, over the flat plane of her stomach to the hot, swollen delta between her thighs. There were no rough curls to detract from the subtle touches; Jane enjoyed the silken feel of skin on skin without the annoyance of pubic hair. Watching, lost to the hypnotic rhythm as an almond-tipped index finger circled Jane’s engorged nub and slicked apart her wet folds making her breath deepen in her lungs as Jenn stumbled into the room. Of all the things she had ever seen, this had to be the most shocking. Jane lay back on the overstuffed feather pillows, feet braced wide apart on the foot of the railed bed. Her soft white knees were so wide as to be turned to the walls like a slumped ballet doll, thrown nude on the sheeted bed. The room reeked of musky sex and the heat in those leaf green eyes made Jenn feel weak in the knees. She had never seen Jane without clothes, the desire wasn’t there, or so she had thought. Compelled beyond conscious thought, she watched as one of Jane’s long tipped fingers circled a dusky rose areola and plucked the thick nipple between forefinger and thumb. Jenn watched bemused as that smooth long fingered hand skimmed over soft inviting curves to her woman’s mound, scraped as clean and bare as a baby’s cleft. But there the similarity left. Spread so wide every liquid limned fold glistened in the soft overhead light, the skin flushed a creamy ruby, like the flesh of a succulent grapefruit. Jenn licked her lips at the thought. She never noticed the door quietly closing or heard the naked man moving behind her until his heat burned along her spine. There didn’t seem to be enough air in the room, the breath shuddered in her lungs and shook her frame. Seeming to understand Jenn better than she did herself the man reached in front and slowly began unbuttoning her blouse. When she jerked her head to look up he tucked her smooth butter-blonde crown under his chin and clamped down, rumbling his amusement with a deep shushing sound. She felt more than saw his thick, long, dark 10

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tanned fingers slipping the buttons of her lavender blouse apart. The soft cotton fell open and he used his warm callused hands to ease the material over her shoulders and to the floor. On the bed Jane smiled and licked first one finger then another, laving each digit until it dripped before sucking. Hypnotized by the barest touches of the man’s fingers on her neck and shoulders, Jenn watched as Jane’s slick fingers explored the folds of her labia, silently circling, teasing the stiffing flesh of her clit. The dance of cool wet fingers always near but never across the swelling nub made her hips rise of their own accord. The man’s fingers flicked open Jenn’s bra and coaxed the flimsy silky garment forward. When she whimpered and moved to grab the scrap of cloth he hushed her with a firm hand. “Easy darlin’ I’ve dreamed of you like this for years. You’ve never looked at me before. I don’t mind you not looking now. Now is mine.” His voice was deep and hot, whispering in its cadence the secrets of hot sultry nights and long panting days. Shouldn’t she know the voice? The question burned at the back of her mind only so long as it took her to feel the impossible length of him pushing against her bareback. Watching Jane’s nimble fingers slide in and out of her slick core made Jenn’s desire grow. The soft sucking sounds as Jane’s inner muscles grabbed greedily at those questing fingers made Jenn tug at the top button of her own jeans. He whispered for her to “watch and want” dropping to his knees behind her, the button on her jeans slid clear as he eased the zipper down slowly, fingers grazing the exposed flesh. He cupped her hips and slid the loose material down her knees catching the scent of her perfume as he leaned into her cleft licking her thong. Jenn shivered at the feel of his tongue. Soft and hot as it teased and probed. Grabbing the material in his teeth, he worried the elastic lightly as she lifted first one leg then the other shucking shoes, socks and the confining denim. She moaned biting her lip but continued to watch as Jane writhed on the bed, her darkening eyes still holding fast to Jenn’s flushed face, she willed Jenn to meet her eyes as her hips arched, fingers strummed and pounded deep. It built from within like an itch that could only be reached when scratching itself, over and over again in blinding white need breaking into colors and sounds as breathing deepened into moans of frustrated hunger. 11

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All Jenn felt was the material of the thong as it slipped between her swollen nether lips and cupped her hungry flesh. When it started rocking against that flesh she moaned and staggered forward grasping the bed rail between Jane’s spread feet. Her nostrils flared taking in the scent of sweat and sex on the sheets and her heaving roommate. From behind she felt hands grip her hips and steady her as her legs spread. Rayn groaned and simulated what he craved by sliding his thick shaft along the cleft of her ass. He bent his knees and left it slide along her back door from tip to base. Jenn didn’t know if it was the caress or his whispering her name in the shell of her ear, but suddenly she knew who he was, the certainty flooding her system like a slap of ice water. “Rayn!” Panic and fear gave her strength to surge up straight, the top of her head slamming into his chin, snapping his jaws and teeth together with a sharp click. Hysterically she clutched her clothes and fled for the bathroom, cursing herself for impetuous wishes that managed to come true in the most spectacularly, horribly embarrassing ways! *** With a moue of frustration, Jane’s eyes tracked her fleeing roommate before beckoning to the erect male. “Rayn,” she teased, “c’mon back over here. I’m lonely and you look hungry.” He looked back, saw her in a glimpse then did an odd double take, waking up to the fact that Jane expected him to service her again. He had no intention of crawling back in her bed, no matter that it angered her. So close, he managed to get so close to his beautiful golden bird and now it felt like miles stood between them not just a closed door. Rayn Desantis stalked across the room and found his jeans on the floor; quickly shook them out and stepped into them, wincing slightly as he zipped his fly. If he would have known that the boss’s daughter knew Jenn…No, he mentally slashed at that thought. He was a fool, pure and simple. Growing up watching Jenn from the back of a horse as she sat clean and pretty, bright as a drop of sunshine on her daddy’s porch should have taught him that just because something was in reach didn’t make it his to touch. She was only two years younger but worlds apart, everyone knew that her daddy, Case Taylor would never allow his daughter to step out of line with a cowhand’s kid. 12

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His mind played over the moment when the tips of her hair grazed his engorged cock and he almost threw his head back to bury it deeper into her plush mane of sunlight and shadows. The only thing stronger than his desire to be tangled in her silken tresses was the desire to bury himself hilt deep in her sheath as she fell apart calling his name. She would remember him soon enough, forget him never, he vowed. He didn’t plan on being the kid of a hired hand much longer. Walking over to the bathroom door, Rayn cursed himself a fool as he lightly touched the cool wood. He left home after high school, striking out for the bigger city life in hopes of making enough money to maybe, just maybe buy a small ranch and tempt Jenn away from her uppity dad. Letters from his mom and siblings never mentioned much about Jenn. Sure they told him how she graduated high school, failed in romance with a neighbor and that she left for college. The rage he felt when he had read his brother’s words detailing the way Mark Morrison used and embarrassed Jenn had led him down the twisted path that slammed him into his current half-life. “Go ahead sug, knock on the door.” Jane still sprawled over the bed, but now she languidly draped sideways watching him stand lost to indecision. Damn! If Jane told her dad just how bad he was rattled over a little bit of ranchero fluff, he would be out of a job. It was bad enough that Jane couldn’t miss how her roommate and lover seemed to know one another, without dumping him in unemployment. A job like his depended on keeping a lot of people happy, no one cared if he was. Slowly he turned and let a lazy smile crawl across his face as he pretended to appreciate the lush female form on the bed. A practiced shiver and stretch and his shirt was on. Unhurriedly he padded bare foot to Jane’s side, each step measured and calculated to show off what the clothes barely contained. Greedily Jane reached forward and tucked his deep chestnut hair behind his ears to study the sharp beauty of his face. Perfection, he smiled, vicious lessons had trained him how to use his lips and tongue to play female flesh. In her eyes he could read the memory of his strong hands working her soft skin, holding her back expertly as the barest tip of his cock had driven her to the edge of sanity before slamming deep. “When will you be back to play?” she sounded needy. His sexy smile turned wicked; being the best stud in her father’s stable paid well and mama did she love to ride.

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The flick of his fingers and she sprawled back against the mattress, Rayn leaned over, bare inches above her hungry flesh. Grinning viciously he mocked her, “Now sug, you know what daddy told you, I am a one shot deal.” “Goddamn the man!” Desire streaked into something ugly as Jane considered how to force him back into her bed. Most of the others were more than happy to accommodate her, only Rayn had to be threatened and cajoled or flat out paid to have fun between her sheets. Rayn slipped off of the bed and walked to the bathroom door, this time knocking gently. He could hear running water and the watery tears of the girl inside and it hurt, down deep, that he had been responsible. He was so close to buying out the Morrison ranch. All he wanted was to be good enough for Jenn, now he had to work at getting her out of the bathroom. His damned shoes were locked in there with his wounded golden bird.

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Part Two The Music

It didn’t matter how many nights Jenn had dreamed of Rayn’s hands touching her, the real thing burned so much hotter. Now the only thing burning her was shame. Shame that after all the years of wishing and wanting she had to act so cheap in front of him and after he crawled out of Jane’s bed, that didn’t even bear thinking on. Guys could be forgiven thinking with their little head. Grimacing she admitted she couldn’t be a vulgar as her dad, but ‘little head’ was so pathetic. Dick, Jenn the word is dick. She washed her face and pulled her clothes on hoping to shove past the both of them on her way out the door. This time she knew she was running and what from, herself and Rayn. She was scared to stay, what she might be tempted to do and she was scared to think what her reaction would be if she had to see him thrusting into her roommate. Instead she gave a muffled half shriek when a knock sounded at the door. Timidly she opened it, looking at the floor beyond the jamb. Without a word Rayn stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. Jenn bumped back into the sink, focusing on the chilly tile floor. His hands clamped around her waist and lifted her to sit on the counter. Still, Jenn couldn’t force her eyes to his face. Seeming to understand he pulled her close and pushed her head against his shoulder. His skin was warm and soothing under her cheek, his large strong hands gently soothed her back. “I am so sorry, I just got lost.” His deep voice rumbled soothingly through her hair. “All I ever wanted was a chance to touch you, and there you were.” He leaned back and lifted her chin with a finger. Her cornflower blue eyes held traces of shame and something else, something that made his blood heat. “It was my fault,” she croaked out. “Normally I never come back unless Jane calls for me. It’s just that I didn’t want to spend another night on the roof.” And I never in a million years thought to find you in her bed, she added silently, heart breaking. 15

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“No worries, Sunshine,” he lightly tugged a lock of her hair. Even in the fluorescent bathroom light it shimmered. “I was due back to work. Jane’s daddy may make me dance with the she-devil but he can’t make me stay with her.” He smiled at her confusion. “I work for the MacInnes, not under his daughter.” Just being this close to Rayn made Jenn forget so many things. Like the betrayal that coursed through her as she washed her face. She couldn’t blame Rayn, not really, he never knew how she felt about him. Every time she had worked up the courage to talk to him, something happened to the clutch between her brain and mouth. The worst gibberish would come out, and then one day he was simply gone. But Jane knew how she felt. His hand slid comfortingly against he small of her back in slow hot circles and all thoughts of Jane dissipated. Each brush of his smooth skin made licks of fire riot in her flesh. Her heart skipped and flared in time to a song she couldn’t quite grasp. Now that is a novel thought her inner imp laughed, a song she couldn’t master. “The MacInnes! Oh, no,” Jenn moaned. Rayn gritted his teeth as the sound coursed through his blood and made his stomach clench in want. “Tonight…I promised him that I’d sing in his nightclub, you know Satin Knights?” The thought iced his blood. “Do you know what kind of nightclub it is?” He searched her face but only saw sweet a woman-child. “It’s just a nightclub; you know a bar with a small stage. I sang at a few places like that for extra spending money.” Heaven hold him, she really didn’t know what the Satin Knights was. Maybe if she just stayed in the public bar and dining area, maybe he could stay beneath her radar. Tonight was his turn to be bouncer, not to work the stage, if his luck held she would never know that his main job was stripper. “You got your costume?” Brusquely he hurried her, looking into her face it was obvious that she felt him withdraw; her face fell like a flower denied the sun. Selfprotection demanded that he close the door on warm wants and open it to coldly impersonal in a heartbeat. “You go on at seven, right?” “Well, yeah, but -” “No buts about it grab your costume and let’s hustle, or we’ll both be late.” He smiled and lightly kissed her lips to make up for his edge. It was a mistake. At the brush of his lips she inhaled a jagged sound making his cock throb. If he showed up at work with a hard on, the MacInnes would throw him to the wolves and make him dance. He preferred his dancers erect, it gave the ladies so much more to appreciate. 16

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The car ride was spent in sullen silence. Rayn was afraid to say anything more. He reasoned that Jenn had gotten carried away in the apartment, seduced by the smell of sex and the over-ripe body of her roommate. It was the only thing he could allow himself to think, as thoughts of her as a shy, skinny fourteen year-old in a crinoline dress watched him as he worked to halter break the yearlings surfaced. His brothers laughed and joked about how silly she looked sitting on the old wood fence in pink and peach frilly dresses that almost reached her shiny leather shoes. Inevitably her white hose would get snagged and rip as she fell off the top rail, making the boys hoot with suppressed laughter as Mr. Taylor would drag his daughter back to the safety of the house. That was about the time that Jenn had been sent for private voice lessons. It seemed funny at the time, how she would stutter and blurt out lines from books and songs instead of saying hello, then he heard her sing. Rayn would never forget the day he rode past the swimming pond and heard her singing, it sounded like some opera song that never made sense word-wise, but it seemed to wrap around his body and pull him closer. Dismounting, he tied his horse to a sapling, peeked through the brush and saw her. She was standing on the small dock, face uplifted to the sun, arms outstretched lost in song as the fish broke the surface of the water. At the time he imagined that the fish were applauding, but the song ended and the thought turned fanciful. But he’d gone about his duties the rest of the day with a light heart and a smile. Smiles were a thing of the past when Jenn cornered him in the stable one stormy afternoon two years later. Rainy days could be deadly dangerous if the ground was too dry, as it had been that day. The area around the house and outbuildings had been trenched so the excess ground water funneled to the pond. Following a good storm the small body of water would be doubled until the sun baked it back to size. The water would rush along the sun baked ground and flood instead of sinking in and nurturing the soil. Rayn was looking forward to going out in the storm to guard the herds of cattle and horses, but his family understood all too well how badly that would backfire. Lightning was always drawn to him and wherever he went the storm would concentrate its fury, almost seeking him out. So he was banned to the barn and the barnyard. Jenn had come in, wearing some silly bit of lacy dress that was ruined by the dustfilled rain and the mud of the yard. Silently she walked up to him. He remembered feeling the electricity build in the air to the point he could have sworn his hair was lifting. 17

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He’d started to notice her as more than just a funny, annoying girl, but as the young woman she was becoming. The rain darkened her hair to the color of fresh honey and as it dripped he wondered how sweet it would taste dripping off those golden strands clinging to her thin hips. Jenn’s face had started thinning, losing the soft roundness of childhood, sinking into the planes of womanhood making her brilliant blue eyes seem overlarge in her elfin face. She never spoke a word just stood there staring at the top button on his shirt, her arm held out in front of him. He smiled at the memory, she had looked like a small child offering a carrot to a horse for the first time, scared and nervous and excited all at once. With the storm raging outside and his heart thundering in his chest, he’d felt as caught by her as that day on the side of the pond. Silently he took the letter gripped in her hand and slid it into the front of his work shirt for safekeeping. Unfortunately her daddy had watched her slip out of the house and followed, entering the barn from the paddock opening. Rayn never got to read the letter Jenn had written, her father saw to that. In the end he swallowed his feelings, stomped them down and tried to be careful about how he looked at the growing beauty but his heart was deaf. When he left, a piece of his heart had stayed with her. The sky was darkening to a hazy purple as Jenn stared out the window in a vain attempt not to stare at the man sitting in the driver’s seat. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to keep her mind focused on the storm clouds gathering, sending the skyline into an early twilight. She refused to notice his long fingered hands, the same hands she had desperately wanted to hold her close as a teenager. Hands that led her straying gaze up muscled arms to the wide shoulders she remembered eclipsing the sun when he rode past her perch on the porch every morning. When she was a baby her mom took her every morning and evening to the pond. Terrible dreams disrupted her sleep but the soothing sparkle of the water eased her fears as her small hands patted the surface. The cool liquid shifted in tones of brown and gray as it rippled under her hands and the slow breezes. On nights when the weather barred her from the water, the dreams haunted her sleep. She never remembered them in the morning, just flashes of faces and the odd feeling that she was winded from running or crying all night. Those dreams stopped the day Rayn Desantis walked into her bedroom and kissed her forehead. Jess smiled at the memory and peeked a glimpse at his face as he studied 18

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the streets, traffic was picking up as drivers hurried to avoid the storm. As a four-year-old it seemed like a fairy-tale come to life. She was Sleeping Beauty and the Prince kissed her awake. But six-year-old Rayn was just doing what his mommy did when he had bad dreams. Even then he was so serious, his small face solemn as he explained that kisses made bad dreams go away. Later that afternoon she’d clambered into her momma’s lap and told her about Rayn’s magical kiss. Daddy had smiled indulgently and ruffled her hair but momma looked sad. That was the day when she found out how she was different from other people and why she wouldn’t be allowed to go to school with other kids like Rayn. She was caoine and bean sidhe, a bright, beautiful leech and a harbinger of death. Jenn shook her head. It had been years since her dual nature depressed her to the point of sounding like a bad gothic novel. As a caoine she had tremendous power of voice, the old Irish legends that served as her bedtime stories told tales of beautiful maidens that cajoled young men with their songs while the music slowly drained the men of life, keeping the dread “Corrigan” young and beautiful. The other stories were darker, scared her into sleeping with a flashlight under her pillow. Those were of the banshee crouching on the banks of rivers and streams wailing their songs to the skies and all who heard the songs fell dead. Those women were ugly hags with snow-white hair, pale faces and skeletal hands reaching from the pages for her throat as she slept. Inevitably she would feel the familiar soothing touch of lips on her forehead and she’d settled with a smile into a deeper rest. The memory of Rayn’s kiss guarded her dreams for years, until he left. The memory of his leaving drove home just how different she was, how truly undesirable. All those hours she labored on the song she created for just him, in hopes he could be enticed to come to her seventeenth birthday. But he never came. Maybe the song was her undoing, maybe it showed him how strange she was. Because she was different, dangerous to others she had to work hard to learn to use what gifts she had been born with. Tied to the water, she snuck out as often as possible and sang to the pond spirits. Jenn never told anyone what she saw when she perched on the dock. One day she managed to make her stealthy way to the pond and found the Desantis boys swimming and the dancing spirits playing tag around the sleek darting bodies splashing and racing around the dock, she knew no one would understand except, maybe, Rayn. She caught him tilting his head to the side as if something caught the corner of his eye. But he didn’t see as she saw. The flashing, shimmering bodies of 19

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light would listen rapt to her song and in return she felt their joy as her own. They were tied to the fish and the life of the pond and fed her soul as she grew. A part of her understood that one day she would need to sing to larger crowds and the fey lights answered her need, bringing the fish to the surface to dance to her songs. What nineteen year-old male who was still testing the threshold of manhood wanted to be chained to a leech? That thought hounded her heels as the hunger inside her soul built yearning for a mate to balance her needs. It was a disaster letting her father bully her into dating a “more suitable” young man. Because of that, a very sweet young man had been ruined, destroyed and broken. In the end he took his own life. Today things sucked just as bad. Here she was sitting next to the man who still held her heart, even after climbing from her roommate’s bed. Jenn peered at him as he swung the car into the back lot behind the club and into a small slot by the trash bins. Her heart hurt with betrayal, but she couldn’t blame him for her hurt, he didn’t know how she felt. Resolve stiffened her spine as he got out and paced around the front of the car, she would make him hers. She had felt his reaction to her in the bedroom and with a frisson of heat recalled his words as his hand reached for her through the open door. I’ve dreamed of you like this for years. Damn it, he was hers, he just didn’t know it yet. *** Jenn slithered into the deep ruby red velvet sheath Ian MacInnes had provided her for the evening. It showed off her cleavage a little too well for her tastes but the guys waiting outside the changing room applauded making her blush. She had left her hair down, mostly because the dress had no back and it made her feel a little too revealed. A nagging little whisper in her mind called her a liar, remembering the way Rayn had buried himself in her hair. She wanted him to see her hair swinging lightly above her bared lower back and remember the feel of it brushing against his thickness. Walking out of the changing area, she was slightly surprised to see all of the waiting guys rush into the room and close the door. With a sinfully handsome smile on his face, Rayn took her arm genteelly and led her to the open bar area where the MacInnes awaited. She risked a peek at Rayn and saw that he had pulled his long beautiful hair back into a ponytail and traded his casual clothes for a pair of black leather pants and a skin, tight muscle shirt. Didn’t look like any bouncer she had ever seen but, hey, she was being paid to sing, not ogle her lifelong fantasy. 20

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Amid the clinking glasses and low laughter, Jenn still felt like she walked in a world of just her and Rayn as he escorted her to the MacInnes. No one ever dared call the man anything but MacInnes. He was a dark Irish, resembling a middle aged Spanish pirate more than anything else. There were whispers and rumors about his past but nothing more, only the foolish would openly speculate and never in his presence. One of the ugliest, most damning rumors came from the lips of a close friend that had committed suicide just before she left for her sophomore year of college. *** The MacInnes turned and watched his golden girl approach. After hearing Rayn ramble drunkenly about the piece of skin, he was intrigued. He had arranged for his daughter to make friends with the girl and invite her to be first dorm and now flat mates. He knew his daughter had her own reasons, but his was simple; Rayn was a top draw for his club and he needed to be leashed. What better way to break his balls then to cage this butterfly? He smiled wickedly and the foolish girl smiled back, but he wasn’t watching her, he was measuring how eager the young stud at her side was to hide his own secret. “Rayn, don’t get too comfortable at the door tonight. You’ll be trading off with Tony just as soon as our songbird is done. I think we can arrange for her to catch your show.” MacInnes’ soft grin was full of dark humor. Even more as the softly beaming girl turned and asked the cold sentinel beside her, who was Tony and what job did he do. He watched the younger man clench his fists then relax, eyes dead as he smiled into the pert face beneath him; he chucked her chin and simply said, “Dancer.” Oh indeed, the MacInnes planned on enjoying tonight with every fiber of his being. *** In that moment Jenn felt everything tilt from a haze of excitement into dread, striking chills down her spine. Just because she grew up on a ranch didn’t mean she was totally clueless. She’d been kept separate for the safety of others as much as for herself. It was her mother who argued for her to leave for college to learn to use her gift of voice properly. Jenn made the decision to stay close to home, and Rayn, rather than head north to bright lights, big city and Julliard. In reality Jenn was afraid what the stresses such a college would put on her to abuse her talent rather than grow it properly. Her heart wrenched lightly at the memory of the only time her grandfather had seemed interested in her or her gift. Carson Taylor had retired from ranching after his 21

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wife Susan succumbed to breast cancer. Her dad had regaled Jenn with stories of his horse-wild momma flying across the fields at breakneck speed and how the site of the setting sun over those same pastures wasn’t the same for his dad after Susan died. Jenn couldn’t put a finger on her first memory of her grandfather without thinking of his big smiling face asking for a song. He’d gone from city council to mayor and on to lieutenant governor with sporadic visits requesting snippets of songs his wife had loved. When high school started so did the pressure from her grandfather to apply to Julliard. Excited, she had pressed her mother into getting a college omnibus so she could read up on the school. At first she felt highly honored that her grandfather believed her talented enough to make it through the grueling entrance auditions for the exclusive New York college. Closer to graduation she worried that such a rigorous schedule of song and performance would lead to her abusing her gift rather than carefully growing it. That long distant fear of failure goaded the current fear of rejection and spurred Jenn into action. Turning to Rayn, she tried to make him look into her eyes and see something, anything. But slowly he withdrew into himself, trying to hide what the man before her had created. Rayn’s letters home had been full of stories of the MacInnes, how he took in the ranchero and got him a job working construction. Rayn had always been strong; she’d often admired his strength when working with the horses and cattle but working construction added to his arms and chest. After the first two years the letters started to slow, and Jenn saw why. Ranch hand strong doesn’t flash well enough when you can have construction muscle. Instead of looking down Rayn turned and swaggered off. Looking up under her mascara coated lashes Jenn caught a glimpse of triumph on the MacInnes’ face. Too many things started clicking into place. It had seemed almost divine providence landing her and Jane MacInnes as roommates her first year of college. The only daughter of the MacInnes Rayn had written home about so often. Jenn did her best to be friends with Jane, despite her petulant nature and overt sexuality. She did it to find Rayn. Skye Desantis, Rayn’s mother, had confided in Jenn that her son had simply disappeared during his third year away from home. It wasn’t Jenn’s most noble moment, she had been devising ways to change roommates for her sophomore year of college when Sky begged for her to “talk to the Jane girl” for some word on her eldest son. 22

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Gritting her teeth, Jenn returned to college and filtering home scant offerings every few weeks. “There were a few problems between him and my dad, maybe that’s why he forgot to write home for so long,” Jane had told her that fall sunning herself on the quad. If the “problem” was his change in job from construction to fantasy toy, Jenn could see the problem. But at the time she didn’t question what the words really meant. Now looking at the powerful man before her, Jenn began to rethink every last word out of Jane’s sin shaped lips. Smiling brightly she allowed the older man to place his hot hands on her arm and hip, guide her to the stage and make the introductions. *** “Good evening, ladies and gents and welcome to the dinner hour here at Satin Knights.” “While we feed one appetite,” he winked at the women in the crowd who broke into loud cheers, “let’s try an’ feed a few others. Tonight we welcome a sweet songbird, Korrigan, for your listening pleasure.” Korrigan? Rayn turned at the entrance and looked at Jenn, why the stage name? Was it something her father insisted on or Jenn wanted? Regardless it seemed that the audience knew the name and applause bubbled up louder than he expected for a first time lounge singer. Shit, he knew his golden bird could sing, he’d heard her often enough growing up. She used to sneak off to the swimming hole when everyone was working and sing for hours. Some days he detoured on jobs just so he could catch the sound of her voice, it never failed to heat his blood, stir his imagination and lift his heart. True to keeping with the theme of the club, the MacInnes provided a number of songs he wished performed; all steamy numbers originally covered by Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, Peggy Lee and myriad others. Simmering in the muted stage light, Jenn threw a knowing little smile at Rayn and reached deep inside her mind to open the eternal power encoded in her lineage as the song Fever simmered from her lips. Rayn felt the sultry song hit him note by note, his eyes felt heavy, sleepy, the blood moved through his veins to the tempo of the drums. Heat pulsed through his body and made him want to do more than just dance. He tried to shake off the feeling but couldn’t, looking around the room he saw in shock that the song grabbed everyone and 23

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held them enthrall. The distraction of watching other’s eyes glaze was enough to snap the spell that bound him. Looking up at the stage his eyes hypnotically tracked back to Jenn. Slamming his eyes closed he turned his head to watch the MacInnes. The pure greed in the man’s eyes as he watched the rest of the bar fall sway to “Korrigan’s” song was unnerving. He seemed utterly unaffected by the song. Then Rayn noticed how his boss assiduously avoided looking at the stage, and, if those weren’t earplugs in the old man’s ears he’d eat his vinyl stripper’s gear. The old man knew the power of her song and countered it. *** After the first few sets, Jenn almost faltered as she saw that her songs had no effect on MacInnes. It wasn’t until he turned his head to bark orders at Rayn and Tony that she saw his earplugs and knew he was onto her gift. No matter, she thought grimly, not even the best plugs on the market could totally block the full effect of her voice. Let the fool think this is it, a voice whispered in her mind, wait for opportunity. The time inched past and the women sitting, waiting for the second half of the night’s entertainment began dreaming under the spell of her song. Jenn grinned impishly as she read the hidden desires that swam up to her senses. Most of the women fantasized about touching the heaving male bodies, others simply let the show serve as a warm up for their dates, and the rest were alone but loved the animalistic thrill of the dance. The men in the audience were something totally different. A few appreciated watching their dates turn rabid, especially since it was their clothes that would be ripped off under impatient hands in dark cars, cheap hotel rooms or fast fumblings in elevators, racing to get to their apartments. A handful of others were there for the same reason as the women. One harbored fantasies of meeting a guy and perhaps indulging in carnal fantasies and one table simply had a voyeuristic desire to see if they could pick up pointers. It was an education Jenn wouldn’t soon forget as the erotic images flared in her mind sharper and with more violence as her shift crawled to an end. Notes slid out of her throat as unbidden images coalesced in her mind, in part her own desires in part those of the room at large. It was almost surreal singing “Unforgettable” while watching a mirror of herself in the arms of a man from the audience, he knelt behind her image sliding 24

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hands up the outside of her thighs while unnervingly smiling into her singing face as her dream-side reflection moaned and dropped heavily against his shoulder. She was supposed to sing during the “dinner hour” which stretched from seven to nine. It never made sense how the dinner “hour” wasn’t but she was getting paid very well to sing sultry songs. Never before had a singing job been quite this difficult, other venues let her mix up the songs. Then too, she normally just sang not employing her voice. When she finished what was supposed to be the last song of the night, the MacInnes took out his earplugs and allowed the end of the song to roll over his senses just this once. Seeing him pull out the plugs, Jenn turned to the band and lightly tapped on a song sheet she had brought, the guys nodded in a daze indicating they knew it. She felt a moment of pity, knowing what this last song would do to them; both drummer and guitarist were already wild eyed and drenched in sweat. Turning back to the crowd she smiled and waited until the MacInnes was halfway to the stage before making an announcement. “Thank you so much for tonight. Before I leave you to other pleasures,” she gave the one especially sensual male in the audience her naughtiest smile. His ideas wow. “I’d like to share one last song, a dedication really to someone I know quite well.” It helped that Jane had just walked in the door, likely warned by her father to wait until Jenn was done singing. She blew a kiss to Jane and purred, “This one is for you,” before launching into Darren Hayes’ ballad “Insatiable.” Every bit of her ability was unleashed as the song poured out. Jenn’s eyes caught and held the MacInnes in place, pinning him like a moth to corkboard. He was a man of powerful desires and they hit her full force adding a little strain to the notes of the song but only serving to emphasize a feeling of breathy need to the song’s crying demand for utter release. She would never know what she looked like to those watching, how her skin gleamed with invitation, her eyes darkening as they flashed electric blue arcs of seduction and desire, full soft lips tracing words normally only whispered between lovers. The thin column of her throat rippled under the melody and undulated to harmony that was felt against the skin as much as heard by the ears. Beauty was too tame, too innocent even in the face of potential lethal splendor; instead she was desire, seduction made flesh. 25

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On the stage Jenn found the burgeoning emotions harder to handle compounded by the waves of incredible sensuality flowing from Jane, coating her skin with the memory of that afternoon, the scent of sex, rubbing her with unseen hands. Stretching, writhing with the song, Jenn embraced the caress, absorbed it and returned it to the crowd full-force and watched as one couple gave in and almost ripped the clothes off one another as they sank under their table. The song throbbed to its close and the crowd seethed upwards applauding and hurrying to other rooms, the members’ only parlors, bathrooms and the dance floor where the loud bass tones of the male dancers’ songs had started shaking the club with its primal beat. The MacInnes reached Jenn as Tony and Rayn were trying to untangle the passion-locked couple from under the table. “Think you’re so cute little Missy,” he ground out, “But we’ll see how well you like watching your man dance for the ladies tonight.” He shook her arms hard enough to make her teeth click together painfully. “You don’t get it do you? He goes on for Tony, last sets, full nudes.” At her stunned shocked look he grinned viciously, wildly and whispered in the shell of her ear, “I hope it gets you as hot as you got me, because you’ll be my treat tonight.” Her mind blanked as he gripped the nape of her neck and frog marched her off the stage.

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Part Three The Tempo

Rayn was busy not only untangling the fully engaged couple from the dining area but in holding his temper. For years he had thought he was the only one that Jenn’s voice affected so deeply just to find out that she had the same impact on everyone. He felt three different kinds of fool for thinking that it meant she was special to him, that he had feelings honest ones stirred up by her voice. Tony just grinned, “Damn boy you got a world class siren there,” as his partner Alex walked over smirking. “Siren my Greek ass, she’s Melpomene, a muse to the gods.” The two looked like bookends despite different ethnicities. Both stood a little under six-feet but more than made up for it with thick chests and arms. Tony had straight silky black hair while Alex carefully kept his curls from turning to frizz. Despite being very straight, the pair had worked up a slave and master stripping routine for the final show of the night that usually brought down the house. “Oh yeah, but you see the boss? He got pissed.” Tony gave up on parting the couple and pulled the table fully over them, moving the cloth to disguise what they were loudly, obviously doing. “Blames pony boy here for not letting on how hot she gotta be eh?” Only a New York City boy could shrug off people having sex around his ankles, with the bored air of ‘nothing to see here.’ Not to be outdone, Alex looked under the dark tablecloth in concentration and made a suggestion on where the guy could better put his hand, much to the enthusiastic delight of his date. “Alexi, you show off, cut it out. We gotta figure a way to help Rayn get his girl the hell outta here before he gotta go on stage.” “I thought we were up tonight?” Alex looked bummed, he loved his job. 27

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“Yeah, well we got axed because pony boy showed up with the siren and a hardon.” Thankfully, the rocking of the table suddenly stopped and Rayn silently hoped they were finally shrugging some clothes into place. “No, he’s doing this because I’ve wanted Jenn as my own since we were kids. His daughter’s got no damned complaints, but the prick never told me that Jenn and Jane were living together.” Alex and Tony winced in sympathy and looked away, shooing Rayn to get into costume while they heaved the spent couple up and pushed them towards the door. “You know Tony,” Alex commented watching the couple stager down the sidewalk, “my uncle paints bridges. The funniest stories he has are of his guys getting drunk and pissing in the paint. You gotta love this job.” *** “Korrigan,” Jane purred winding catlike around Jenn’s chair. “I truly do love the stage name, a pure honey blonde beauty by night and a hag by day.” At Jenn’s stunned look, Jane laughed and settled astride the slightly taller girl’s lap. “Mattress back I may be, but stupid? Oh no, honey child. Hungry, I am surely that too.” The MacInnes prowled his office trying to walk off the painful erection the bitch’s song had inspired. He’d had every intention of bolting the door and dealing with it the old fashioned way, whether the snotty little cunt wanted him or not. But no, his darling daughter beat him to the damned office. “Papa, why don’t you go watch the door tonight, send ‘Lexi and Tony in for a little party?” The MacInnes cursed and threw a stapler at the wall. Then it occurred to him that perhaps it would be to his benefit to allow his best pair to use the girl. It just wouldn’t do to simply ruin her love for Rayn by making her watch him dance, no this was better, break them both, make them into things he could manipulate and use. “Whatever you want darlin’ just don’t forget, our little song bird has got to see Rayn dance tonight.” So what if Jane couldn’t leash pony boy, they’d break Rayn’s light o’ love in and use her instead. He gripped Jane’s chin and forced his daughter’s hot eyes to meet his own. Lord above but the girl had a power inside her to keep men by her side no matter how vicious she got, all but his most popular solo dancer, Rayn. Goddamned boy was hung like a horse and the women ate him up. For a moment he fancied he saw crimson flames dancing in the pupils of his daughter’s eyes, as if something not quite human looked out in derision before she 28

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nodded and the stirring brush of movement faded. Must be his imagination, probably brought on by high blood pressure, he muttered heading down the hall to find Tony and Alex. *** In the dressing room Rayn changed into his first costume for the night. He’d go on twice the first hour as a firefighter, and then twice in the second hour as a 1940s private “dick” battered fedora and all. Afterwards he’d have an hour to rest up i.e. dance in the private booths before the last set of the night - a full nude cowboy romp wearing nothing but a gun belt, Stetson and brass spurs. He wasn’t a fool, he knew that was when the MacInnes would lead Jenn out to watch. His guts were churning and burning at the thought of the old bastard touching her. Everyone heard the complaints from the waitresses in their skimpy maid uniforms; they all ended up servicing the needs of the prick. If the bastard didn’t have the money and power to make his life a living hell he would have walked out three years ago. But it was pretty damned impossible to get a construction job with another company without a good referral and a bad one from the MacInnes guaranteed that you wouldn’t get so much as a counter job at the corner gas station. So Rayn gritted his teeth, put in long hours on the job sites then showered and walked into the club for another few hours of work. After the first month stripping, he settled into a routine and stopped feeling embarrassment, instead he started to feel pretty damned good watching the women scream, their eyes glazing over as he approached their waving money. The first year passed and during the second the MacInnes pulled him totally from working construction. “Don’t pay Hoss, for you to swing your hips for the little ladies if you’re bruised and bloodied up. There’s some that gets into that but we don’t cater to them types, least not on the dance floor.” When Rayn pleaded to keep the other job, and made up some sob story about sending home money to support his family, not the truth that he was trying to buy out a rancher near his home, the bastard grinned from ear to ear and offered to continue paying him his day wage to take care of his “darlin’ daughter’s” needs among other “things.” While college was in session it wasn’t so bad, Jane would make trips out to the club and smile at whichever dancer caught her eye. For a few weeks she never even noticed him, then one day she had sauntered in and grabbed him by the belt buckle and 29

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demanded him by name. It never occurred to him that she had any way of knowing Jenn, let alone being her roommate. It wasn’t until he walked into the apartment earlier today and saw the old picture of him sitting on Case Taylor’s favorite stud that his heart hit his shoes. Jenn’s mom Rachel had taken the picture of him riding Timber Tiger. He’d allowed her to take the picture mostly because it was so rare for anyone to see Rachel Taylor. She had a lush beauty that turned male and female heads where ever she went despite being mute. At least everyone figured she had to be mute, using hand gestures and such instead of talking. Cursing, Rayn wished he had taken the time in the car to explain that sex with Jane wasn’t anything more than an unwanted ‘extra detail’ of his job. Leaving the dressing room, Rayn crossed behind the curtains and moved to his spot on the line. Some of the guys only went on twice in a night, others did multiple runs like he did - it all depended on how well the patrons responded and the amount of requests for repeat performances. It gave him a few minutes more to worry about how he really felt towards Jennifer Taylor. Emery smiled at him and adjusted his tear-away tie as he moved to his mark a split second before the curtains parted. Dressed in what looked like an expensive three piece suit the off-duty cop filled the material out to perfection, before he dropped his empty brief case and undulated pulling the suit apart at the lightly Velcro stitched seams. Emery made Rayn think of Jenn’s dad every time. He had the same look; perfectly at ease in a suit, in jeans or bare-assed strutting in front of waves of screaming femininity. Nothing tossed either male. The only time Case Taylor had looked pissed was the day he caught Rayn openly admiring his fifteen year-old daughter. One of the regulars to the club often bought the darkly handsome dancer dinner before the show. The MacInnes encouraged that sort of thing while publicly putting on the appearance of banning it. Most of the guys hoped that Emery was working undercover, not just scoring money on the side, but Rayn doubted it, not after Shirley, the dinner buying regular, nibbled Em’s ear before commenting, “boardroom to bedroom with those damned eyes.” Rayn had a sick feeling that by sucking in a cop or two to strip, the MacInnes managed to keep his more clandestine dealings out of the investigation folders. Just remembering his weeks at The Retreat made him break out in goose flesh and shivers, the 30

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place needed to be shut down. But cops protected their own, they wouldn’t want to see some of their fellow officers skinned alive in the media for being part-time strippers. The possibility of bad press guaranteed no raids, at least none at Satin Knights. The next dancer moved to stand at Rayn’s shoulder. Robbie was a bit of an oddity for the club. Tall and willow thin he had a perfection of face and form that most women sighed over only when featured in movies or magazines. To up the “freak” factor a little and hopefully raise Robbie’s standing Tony and Alex set him up in a dress to act the bitch in a warped bondage themed routine with Pee Wee, who was anything but. Pee Wee’s real name was the most unmanly Sidney, but you tell a guy standing nearly sevenfeet tall and four across that he isn’t manly and you’ll find out how fast you can count your teeth as they hit the floor. Pee Wee didn’t much care for the routine, saying it made him look gay, but stopped griping after the first night when he tore the dress off of “Robin” and the routine played out. “Women have to be the most bizarre creatures,” Rayn muttered. He never thought of Jenn as bizarre or weird, just sweet and incredibly sexy. He couldn’t believe that he questioned how much he wanted her just because she had an incredible singing gift. Hell, she made him hard as stone growing up without singing a single damned note. Must have been all that wrinkled crinoline as she perched on the corral fence. He grinned at the boy who used to wonder how to look up a skirt from the back of a horse. Watching Pee Wee clad in leather stalking Robbie in his filmy dress almost made him laugh. It was a warped routine but getting more and more popular as the “Master” ripped the dress free and used it to bind his overly nubile male slave to the dancer’s pole for assorted “tortures.” Given the amount of twisting, turning and thrusting it was the tightest choreographed routine featured and looked to be one of the most demanding aside from Tony and Alex’s “Caligula” act. Figured, seeing how those two dreamed this scene up, he grinned. Just before the curtains closed, Rayn spotted the MacInnes prowling the stage area, it made him feel worlds better that Tony and Alex had obviously been diverted to entertain Jane while daddy did floor duty. He didn’t have to worry about them touching his golden bird, they knew how he felt. *** “Sister,” Jane hissed in delight against Jenn’s lips. She went rigid. Did Jane just call her sister? She felt the hot lick of Jane’s tongue against her lower lip and something 31

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about the almost casual motion made her suddenly crave more, parting her lips for her roommate. Indulging a long held desire Jane slanted her mouth across Jenn’s sweetly parted lips and drank deep; sweet and hot with a light burning edge to her taste Jane shuddered in sensual joy. “Ah my sister, I can taste your heat, your desire, how much you luxuriated in the powers you finally used tonight but above all I taste your innocence.” Jane crossed her ankles behind Jenn’s waist, arched into the soft curves of her honey coated perch, wrapped one arm firmly around Jenn’s shoulders then looked down into her soul. Adder bright her sex darkened green eyes mesmerized the stunned blue pools into a state of dreamy submission. “I…I know you,” Jenn gasped in shock as something rose within her chest and acknowledged the difference that was within Jane. She was caoine and banshee, Jane was…was…the word flittered just beyond her reach, tantalizing her with its elusive dance. “Hush,” Jane planted a finger on her quivering lips, “and I, you. The price I ask is to taste your innocence, not break it or bruise it; it must remain intact for your Rayn.” Jenn watched in fascination as Jane smiled ruefully. “I should have known that the reason he never fell to me was because he was yours. Daddy was a fool not to see it.” “All I ask is that you play with me, just a little, let me taste you. Enjoy what I can offer as a gift, you’ll be leaving soon.” Arching back she shrugged off the tight silk blouse she’d worn to the club. “Will you sing for papa tonight?” “I don’t want to.” Jenn shivered, she wasn’t sure if it was from desire or apprehension at the kind of song she’d be forced to sing. Once that side of her gift was invoked it became impossible to hold off in the future. It was the reason her mother never spoke in front of anyone save her father. “Now, don’t think about that at all,” Jane crooned snuggling in placing soft hot kisses under her earlobe, “push comes to shove I can handle my daddy, he just don’t know it yet.” She smiled darkly into Jenn’s eyes letting the soul flames show in her eyes. “For now be mine,” her voice purred into the sultry heat of the office. A knock sounded at the door, snapping Jane’s head up. Breathing deeply the angry lines of her face softened, deepened and became the epitome of sensuality. “Alexi, Tony, enter,” a soft contralto that throbbed with heat. 32

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“Princess,” Tony smiled, slow and hungrily. When his roaming hot chocolate eyes spied Jenn’s bound hands he frowned lightly. “We wasn’t told this was a group party.” “It is not. Alexi, my war god, free her hands from the rope. I have reached an agreement with my ‘cousin.’” Like a cat lapping cream Jane slurped up the shocked air in the room at her revelation, “Not by blood, but deeper and darker my sweetmeats.” Lightly she uncoiled from her captive’s lap and moved back, waving the men forward. Freeing Jenn’s hands Alexi seemed to know instinctively just what his mistress desired. With a firm but gentle grip he lifted the singer’s hands over her head and pulled her gently to her feet. Tony moved in behind her and slid his hands under the heavy burgundy folds of cloth and slowly eased the material up, his rough hands blazed a trail as they lightly abraded the soft sensitive flesh in lazy almost negligent caresses from ankle to hip. Brusquely Alexi kicked the wooden chair aside and stepped in behind Tony, holding Jenn firmly in front of his partner, yet also caging the stocky Italian. As if pirouetting to a song no one but they could hear, Alexi rocked his hips against Tony’s back sending his pelvis to heave into Jenn’s spine. With the silky velvet material gone she felt the coarse denim grinding against her unprotected flesh causing gooseflesh to rise and ripple along her bare legs. Jane paced the room, watching the men like a predatory cat. When Tony’s fingers twitched near Jenn’s lacy thong, Jane hissed in annoyance and he pulled his hands lower, slowly widening Jenn’s stance, pushing her pubis to jut proudly against the pearl shaded material. “Korrigan, I collect my due. Sing for me, Caoine.” In a flash she knelt between the supple thighs as they shook in fear or was it anticipation? Jenn didn’t know, not until the wet fire of Jane’s tongue swirled in the hollow of her inner ankle. With a whimpersigh she felt the muscles in her legs loosen only to be bolstered as Tony bent his knees and accepted her weight against his frame. Slowly, sinuously Jane’s tongue danced up one leg, dipping and swirling against small spots Jenn never thought existed. A part of her splintered seeing instead Rayn’s dark head bent before her, she even hallucinated the feel of his rougher skin as his face slid up her thigh. Jane leered, nipping the sensitive flesh and her vision cleared, “you’ll see that soon enough and he’ll know precisely where to touch you, thank me later cousin, but open to me now,” she hissed snagging the thin material that covered Jenn’s core between her teeth and dragging it down viciously. 33

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“Don’t you feel the song yet?” Her eyes smiled as her lips drew back, scenting the air deeper than any human. Jane looked at Jenn’s dark gold curls in hunger but only ghosted her tongue along the upper edge of the small triangle before searching out every nerve on the opposite leg. Impossibly, Jenn felt a song at the edges of her mind, teasing her in tones of bells, sighs, liquid sounds that tingled and sparked a tune. She distantly felt hands widen her legs, placing the teetering stiletto heels on Tony’s bent knees. Alexi rocked his lower body under his partner, supporting him like a lover while holding her wrists immobile. His one change was to move her wrists to one hand as he placed his other palm on Jenn’s quivering stomach. The nervous feeling of butterflies trebled and exploded as he pushed down and lightly caressed the skin beneath in deep massaging strokes. Standing between Jenn’s splayed thighs; Jane stared until the singer held her gaze, then slowly lowered her head between the golden supple pillars of her thighs and leaned forward, lightly parting woman fur and slick folds with just the tip of her dusky rose tongue. The song burst across Jenn’s brain, without thinking she sang, opening her throat and voice completely, allowing sound and syllable to crash against the room, swallowing the people inside. A burning built up inside Jenn as the wet probe of Jane’s tongue dipped and licked searching for the rhythm matching eddies of the song sparking the air to ignite. Jane opened her own senses and absorbed every chaotic emotion ricocheting from wall to wall. The clothes on Alexi and Tony fell to her deftly extended claws as she buried her face in the musky corona of curls, sucking the pink tipped flesh emerging as the slick folds swelled in desire. Alexi inhaled sharply, as his sweat slicked chest was cooled by the slip of warm skin from Tony’s back. Growling in blind lust he bit down on the cusp of Tony’s exposed shoulder and ground his thickening erection against the soft skin of his buttocks. In reaction Tony arched the thick column of his neck back and ground against the heavy weight Alexi hungered to fill him with as he felt the swing and slap of balls rubbing the slicked skin between his thighs. Jenn strained and arched her back, flexing and curling her pelvis seeking the tempo of Jane’s tongue needing the fire to burn higher, hotter into the release she felt building as her song soared higher. Tony rubbed his cock in a fever pitch against the small of Jenn’s heaving sweat slicked back, groaning in need. Using her talons to pinch and knead Jenn’s inner thighs, Jane spread the girl wider, letting her tongue fork and delve both into her shimmering milky core as her 34

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fingers rubbed and cajoled the singer to the breaking point. Jenn went rigid and screamed out the final syllables searing her mind as the world coalesced around her in a corona of heat pulsing before shattering in a kaleidoscope of color, sound and fury. Gently Jane grabbed the shuddering girl, smoothed the dress into place and laid her at Tony’s feet, she grinned viciously. “Let the girl learn by looking up,” she laughed, pulling Tony away from Alex who growled in primal need to dominate. Quickly Jane spun Tony to stand behind her, all three straddling the dazed singer as Alexi raised Jane and wrapped her legs around his waist, then fiercely thrust his cock into her hot sheath. Tony surged forward, using his hand on his shaft quickly gathering enough moisture from his silky tip before spreading her buttocks and surging inside her softly puckered anus. Another song rang in Jenn’s blood, she sang sonorously as the bodies heaved above her, around her. “With mouth the wicked did robe The shaft of demon standing arched As Mare of Night Screamed until parched Joy at the feast of carnal delight…” Deep in her throat Jane laughed a lava bubbling heat that robbed all of their senses and minds as Alexi pumped in and Tony pulled back, She felt the soft thick head of one plumbing her depths to fullness as the other vacated to the last greedy muscle contraction before reversing as one drew back and the other plowed forward. Her beast rose and roared in joy as it ate at the banquet of lust spewing inside her silken sheath and straining ass. The song spent, Jenn turned and crawled from under the piston firing bodies. Moving to the sidewall she watched in shock as Jane lifted up off of Alexi’s purpled cock and pushed backwards, slamming down onto Tony’s bronzed shaft. Never stopping the bucking ride, Jane walked her hands to Alexi’s hips and flexed her fingers against the flesh there before swallowing his turgid length impossibly deep into her throat. Sucking sounds sounded in contretemps to grunts and growls as both males threw their heads back hoarsely, bucking, grinding, thrusting and crying out in release, their hands holding Jane’s undulating hips and heaving breasts. 35

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Pulling apart roughly the three spilled to the floor as Jane managed to fluidly prowl over both male bodies as if declaring to the very air that both were hers. “Thank you Korrigan, sleep and forget.” She watched in amusement as the intense bluebell bright eyes dimmed before dropping into slumber. Raking nails down a thigh and across a shoulder she demanded “more,” of the men slumped beneath her hungry flesh.

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Part Four The Arrangement

Looking at his watch for the umpteenth time that night the MacInnes swore a blue streak. It felt like the longest damned night of his life. Every fool woman in the club had tried at one point to either molest the men in the audience or the ones on the stage. Infuriating but also impressive as money flowed towards servers and dancers. Something had caused the already incited crowd to new levels of lewd behavior as the night wore on. About fifteen minutes ago when he was certain he’d have to break down and call the cops to clear the place the upsurge of violence seemed to leak out of the room and the throng of women settled into more recognizable waves of cat-calls, screams and money waving. The skin at the back of his neck prickled and tightened. Turning he exhaled sharply in relief as his pride and joy sauntered out looking sated and contained. He didn’t understand the girl. No, he reminded himself, not girl, woman. Still, he didn’t understand her at all. She was totally insatiable and yet managed to get exactly what she wanted from men without even trying. There were times he found himself giving in and later having no memory of how or why or even what it was she scored from him. But this, this was something he had wanted for too many long months to be denied. He needed Rayn broken back to just a dancer, broken into servicing his girl the way she really wanted. He needed this new singer to learn her place and be grateful to have a job. MacInnes allowed himself a tight erotic thought of having those soft pink lips surrounding his cock while all that sunshine bright hair flowed around his waist. Oh yeah, he planned on getting it all and having it, just like he deserved being the MacInnes. *** Jenn awoke feeling muzzy brained. Solemnly Jane tugged the singer to her feet, fluffed and tugged at her hair and clothing until she was satisfied. Looking incredibly 37

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rumpled, Alexi and Tony brought her a drink and a damp cloth for her face. Neither would look her in the eye and it unnerved her. What had happened while she slept? Chuckling, Jane read the question that raced in horror across her cousin’s face. “They are merely embarrassed song bird, for having loudly and enthusiastically satisfied me as you slept the last two hours.” She reached out and playfully ruffled her hair and kissed her sex-softened lips, “they refuse to accept you were truly asleep the whole time.” Jenn’s face flooded with heat. Oh my God, she thought in horror. I just laid there like a lump while she…while they? Her mind skittered away from the idea let alone the images the words tried to conjure up. Her dreams were especially spicy but featured Rayn not…Oh man! Her face flamed again as she tried to look at both men who were now openly grinning at her. This was simply too embarrassing to even consider. “Come on sugar, my daddy wants you to see your man doing what he does second best.” “Second best?” Jenn was lost, again. “Oh honey child, if I told you what he did best, you’d want to claw my eyes out.” Despite Jenn knowing the truth about what was inside Jane, it still rankled that she had shared her love’s bed, but surprisingly didn’t upset her the way it did earlier. Jane, was well, Jane. Jenn squared her shoulders and walked as calmly as she could down the short hall from the office into the foyer area skirting the dining section leading to the stage area. It seemed natural to lead, just as it seemed somehow right that Tony and Alexi flanked Jane as she stalked towards her waiting ‘daddy.’ Daddy seemed pissed at something as he grabbed Jenn’s upper arm and stationed her at the end of the long light-studded catwalk. The grip hurt and she winced, knowing it would leave bruises. “Sir?” Tony and Alex moved up from flanking Jane to stand like bookends on either side of the MacInnes. “We have to ask you to let go of Jennifer.” Alexi spoke but Tony nodded in grim agreement. Jenn was stunned, gaping open mouthed at the pair. Their concern was touching but they were risking their jobs. “C’mon daddy, don’t be such a bore,” Jane’s voice sulkily pouted from behind Tony. “If there is gonna be anything to see, you’d see it better from over there,” she pointed to a secluded table in an alcove tucked behind a wall screen. The screen had been 38

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pulled artfully back. Jenn mused it was probably where the disc jockey had been located before he was replaced by the much classier announcer and CD player. It provided a place to watch the room without being seen. Creepy, Jenn thought as father and daughter walked over and settled at the table. Interested in spite of herself Jenn watched curiously as some really odd technodisco music pounded against her eardrums and the far dark curtains parted revealing a guy with hair to his waist done in dreadlocks as the music screeched changing tempo crashing into a jarring industrial rock sound. He was clothed in what looked like grungy rags that sailed into the crowd as he spun in fast hard motions keeping time to the impossible music. Within seconds he slammed to hands and knees clad only in a loincloth, quickly he prowled, spine rolling, hips heaving to the thrumming beat as his eyes sought woman after woman from the throng screaming and reaching for him. Suddenly deciding on one he spun, rolled and landed on his knees, thrusting his rolling hips at a peach-haired matron waving a fifty dollar bill in her teeth. Jenn boggled at the sight, and then goggled again as the woman used her lips to tuck the fifty in a leather tie on his thigh before ripping his loincloth off with her teeth. “Oh my God!” She backed up but hit a wall of muscle, looking straight up she saw the underside of Alexi’s jaw. He looked down and winked into her stunned face. At the shadow draped table Tony kept Jane distracted enough not to be bored with her father’s company. Jenn seriously considered fleeing but didn’t think that Alexi would let her leave - orders from the boss. He leaned over and shouted in her ear, “Isn’t this awesome?” Her face must have gone comical from shock because he laughed long and hard, wiping a tear from his eye. “Humphrey is good, but can’t hold a candle to Rayn, you’ll see.” Humphrey, she thought, looking at the insanely writhing man on the stage, it all made sense now. Yes, she thought giddily, but did she want to see? “Relax sweets, some of us are artists, others just feed the animal, old Hump, he’s like feeding time at the zoo. You’ll see, Rayn is up next.” Caught enthrall by morbid fascination she found herself watching the man with the incongruous name of “Humphrey” as he swung, thrust and gyrated to what sounded like a four car pile up being cleaved by the jaws of life. Her eyes bulged, he was fully erect and, “Oh my God!” She repeated getting more than an eyeful of his erection. 39

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Behind her she felt more than heard Alexi’s new round of laughing. Feeling grumpy that someone was getting a charge out of this at her expense, she felt like the world’s biggest peeping Thomasina – naughty, slightly titillated and totally embarrassed yet wanting to see more. Tilting her head back she shouted, “Rayn’s next?” Alexi looked down, grinned wickedly and nodded. Damn but she felt like she got caught with a hand in the cookie jar. Had she looked that, well greedy for the sight of Rayn that Alex read her so easily? Sheesh, get a grip, she chided herself as the announcer went into an ear splitting spiel that caused the horde of skin-huns surrounding the stage to howl like ravening wolves. The intensity was frightening but only heightened her desire to see. *** In the dim ghost-light behind the curtain, Rayn stood, eyes closed, visualizing all the motions, the looks, the touches of the routine. He pushed out all thoughts of Jenn watching the show, reaching down into a dark hidden part of himself he opened the doors to his sexuality, felt the ripple of heat running under his oil slicked skin, the energy built, coursing through muscles, nerves and bone, humming across sinew in a shiver of elemental want. Sweat beaded his skin, it pleased him. Born in rain and named for it according to the way of his mother’s people, it was his element, that moment of tension just before the storm shatters the skies. His nostrils flared, a storm was brewing outside the club, the air was pregnant with it. He smiled opening himself to embrace the turbulent comfort. As a child storms scared yet drew him. The profound fury of the tempest eclipsed his small form yet something in his blood drew him. His mother Skye simply smiled with a quixotic blend of joy and sadness as she tried to school her son in how to embrace his unusual affinity. Most of her family had earned their “fortunes” and returned to their ancestral grounds in Mexico leaving the young mother to be storyteller, teacher and mother all at once to a very special child intended to serve the tribe’s needs and wants. His favorite story had been of the maiden the sky god had loved, stealing her into the heavens to be his alone. She had a son and despaired of seeing her people, sharing her precious child with her family and village. But her son was different and the sky god knew it well, forbidding any from raising a hand against his son. As the boy grew his voice was as the rushing wind, his laughter the rumbles of thunder, his ways as confusing as the wheeling storm clouds. In frustration an elder slapped the boy. Enraged, the sky 40

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god released his fury in the shape of storms on the tribe and recalled his son home, abandoning the lover who had shunned him. Being a typical energetic boy, his father often threatened a paddling. Testing the old man’s limits by putting a small snake in a sibling’s shoe had earned him his only spanking. Butt sore and feelings hurt, he had sniffled laying in bed hoping that the sky god would open the heavens and smack his dad down with a lightning bolt and take him home. Come morning he felt shame for his practical joke and for his petulant wish and gratitude that the old stories didn’t exactly come true today. From beyond the curtains boomed the voice of the announcer and the loudly enthusiastic response of the audience. Rayn shook off the memory, tugged his hat lower on his head, flashed a gleaming white grin to the stage manager and felt the music reach for him as blinding lights exploded from the darkness overhead. Barefoot he stalked forward, rolling his hips in the soft doeskin chaps, brass spurs trailing delicately behind as the lights shattered spears of brilliance off of the points like forge thrown sparks. With a flick of his wrists he freed twin bullwhips from around his throat causing the red bandana to sail out into the crowd. Feet thrumming in time to the music but in a pattern of steps as old as the People he bucked and flailed the braided leather giving the illusion that every cracking flick popped open another inch of seam. Within seconds the chaps were in sections on the stage and the women watching were always too transfixed with the screaming twists of leather to notice the mechanical bull rise through the floor of the stage at the curtain. Twisting around to face the crowd sideways he stretched and the last bit of slippery hide slid off his pelvis and fluttered to the floor. The only thing that rode his form was the thick gun-belt tied with thin leather stays to his thighs. A gleaming pair of pearl handled 45s flanked his legs and only served to make his erection look bigger. Grabbing the cool polished steel of the pole in his hand he swung loosely until he was straddle-legged in front of the pole, hands clasping the gleaming steel as he sank into deep knee-bends, riding the pole. Because of the guns the MacInnes insisted he wear, Rayn never allowed the women to touch his heaving, straining legs until after the belt was shrugged off. He slid down the pole, head back allowing his nose to brush the slick steel, knees parted as his buttocks met his heels before arching in a perfect bow, thrusting himself upwards and outwards from the post and out towards the screaming sea in the darkest corner of the room. It was a ploy to have them push forward hoping to catch him, he never fell that far, 41

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collapsing into a splay-legged push up position. Rayn lowered himself sneering predatorily at the women on either side of the stage as he lowered his body until the tip of his shaft rubbed the floor, then rolled his hips back and forth with a circular roll that left nothing to the imagination of what his thrusts in the dark would feel like. *** Jenn watched in open-mouthed fascination as Rayn surged in one fluid motion to kneeling, his leg muscles standing out as he feigned riding the backs of his thighs along the vicious roundels of the sharp Spanish spurs held on his heels with leather sandal bands. Shudders winnowed sensually through her insides simply imagining the prickling caresses racing up the backsides of her own legs. Her eyes almost popped when in time to the song’s “wanna play with my gun” line Rayn slid down the gun belt and with long loose hand movements drew every female eye to each impressive tumescent inch of silken steel standing proudly between his legs. “Oh, my God.” Jenn felt Alexi’s laughter; she hadn’t realized he could hear her repeat herself so stupidly. “That’s why we call him Pony boy, blondie,” he laughed into her ear. Freed of the guns, Rayn slid along the edges of the stage, writhing like a snake, allowing myriad female hands to touch his leg, hip and stomach but never his cock. It was impressive how he twisted and turned allowing them to touch him, yet not. The music swung into a different tempo and he moved backwards fast and leapt onto the mechanical bull. Most guys used a hand under the thick hemp bull-rope, but Rayn laced his hands behind his neck and used the strength of his legs to keep himself in place as the machine slammed to half-life with heavy dips and rolls programmed to show off his thrusting hips and turgid length as his naked form gyrated on the heaving machine. Watching the corded muscles of his back, Jenn’s mind tumbled backwards in time to the long hot days when she’d hide in the barn’s hayloft and watch Rayn and his brother’s breaking horses. Then his muscles hadn’t been as well defined but the sun slick sweat had been just as warmly golden as she fantasized about licking off the salty trails tracing his ribs. Heat pooled in her stomach and flared fierce pulsations of carnality from the soles of her feet to the roots of her hair, her entire body burned as something in her mind screamed for release. Even her eyes burned, causing the lids to droop and shield the dilated pupils from the bright lights. The blood swam through her system in turbulent tides answering the call of something beyond her understanding. Static electricity rippled 42

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across her shoulders making fine hairs dance, she never even noticed as her long split skirt began to flow and bell in response to a wind that wasn’t blowing inside the club. After the bull ride, Rayn’s routine normally included him lassoing a handpicked audience member for a bit of one-on-one dancing on the stage. This was why Alexi stood behind Jenn, she was the one the MacInnes wanted selected for the end of the night dance. Jane sat back watching her father grow grim as Rayn studiously ignored Jenn and Jenn openly appreciated the very male spectacle before her. The bull slowed and Rayn rolled over the side gracefully reaching for the lasso under the apparatus. The crowd knew this portion of the show and their riotous screams shook the walls as he made a production of spreading the loop and swirling it by his side as he faked scouring the faces for a likely candidate. Alexi stood out as did Jennifer. Rayn took a deep breath, smiled with his lips and did a few fake casts with the lariat for show before turning and settling it easily over Jenn’s shoulders. “Oh my God,” was all she could say as the rope snaked around her, drawing tight. I really have to work on my responses, she thought, as Rayn grinned pulling her closer to the stage. She so didn’t want to go up there. Her mind kept stuttering that there was a time and a place for naked Rayn and rope but this was totally not it. Jenn yelped in shock when Alexi grabbed her from behind and heaved her onto the stage. Her face flooded with color when she realized that his hand lingered a bit too long on her backside, somewhere or other during her “nap” she’d lost her underwear. “Ladies,” Rayn lightly chided the few booing fans, “there’s always another night.” He grinned and pulled the rope making Jenn stagger on her stiletto heels over towards him. “I think this filly is a mite skittish, what d’yall think?” Again he looked out to the crowd as if asking for suggestions. One of the shouted comments made Jenn close her eyes in mortification. The idea of doing that in a public place, she shivered. Slowly he drew her close and walked around her as if eyeing up the possibilities, his slow perusal threw gas on the flames of the crowd, they wanted something raw and in a hurry. Rayn slipped his hand down Jenn’s back and smacked her backside, it stung a bit but the way he had cupped his hand the blow felt stingingly erotic, not punishing. Trying to get into the act she tossed her hair back and arched her back inviting him to do it again, adding a bit of a fanny wag to the motion for the hell of it. *** 43

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Laughing, Rayn delivered another sharp crack palming her a little longer. Oh, shit, she isn’t wearing panties, was all his mind could manage as he slipped in behind her, easing the rope up and down her body, settling it around her wrists, securing her to the dance pole. Stunned he looked up to Jane, she didn’t…she couldn’t have done anything to his song bird? From the dark alcove he saw Jane imperceptibly shake her head. No, nothing happened yet, but her dark eyes were pools of mystery. Something was up. The last dance always involved a bit of fake sex play with a willing audience member who agreed to having her skirt tossed up or her blouse pulled off. No nudity, just a bit of flash to heat things up. Under the blood red sheath, Jenn was totally naked. His mind swam for a moment and then things slid into place. So be it, he thought grimly. “Darlin’ remember Jane’s?” He murmured in Jenn’s ear as he adjusted the rope, pushing into her. When she nodded he breathed, “don’t panic, I’m gonna do what we did earlier. I am so sorry.” Before she could ask what it was he meant by that, Rayn slid his foot between hers and forced her legs apart. Grabbing a handful of her golden mane, he forced her back into a provocative arch as his other hand skimmed from her lower back to hip, catching the thick material and flipping it up and to the side. The audience roared. It was very obvious from the way the dress slid open that the singer wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Rayn ignored the catcalls and hollering and massaged his fingers over Jenn’s hips, rubbing himself from tip to sac against her firm backside. When her dress was lifted, Jenn almost fainted, the only thing that kept her from screaming and trying to run off was that it was Rayn and she trusted him. The ferocious sea of women would never have allowed her to escape unscathed. Her only option was to play out whatever demented act the MacInnes had orchestrated. Forcing her eyes closed, she made herself go still and concentrate only on Rayn’s hands, his body and his small cues on what he needed her to do. Under the gentle pressure of his fingers she loosened up, lightly bending her knees and returning the amorous stroking by rubbing back into him. Rayn breathed thanks into the air and slid his hands around, as if cupping her with one hand as his other made a circular motion on her stomach pushing up towards her breasts. A difference in the sound of the crowd had him looking to the door as Emery and a platoon of cops with flashlights hit the crowd. With a jolt Rayn realized that from the door it would look like he and Jenn were fully involved in having sex on the stage. Quick 44

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as the idea hit home, he slid a panel of her dress over his cock to hide that it wasn’t really buried hilt deep and forced her hips to stay uncomfortably flush with his scrotum. He leaned forward and begged, “don’t move.”

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Part Five The Hook

The sight of the police storming the room stunned Jenn into immobility. Shock struck her still, but panic held her cemented in place. Her parents were so going to kill her. “We trust you baby, make good choices,” her dad’s voice echoed in her head, and she groaned out loud. Within scant moments Rayn was pulled back, her hands freed only to be yanked behind her back and slapped into cuffs. There were people yelling in her face and at her sides, cops, outraged patrons, a few of the dancers and then the MacInnes let out a bellow that could be heard over all the screaming and shouting. A face shoved into Jenn’s yelling about rights and an attorney. Scared she tried to back up but tripped and sprawled on the stage, landing heavily on her hands. The cop went red faced and reached for her but was brushed aside by a man she thought she recognized from being in the club earlier that night. Gently as possible Detective Emery Ellis lifted the singer off of the floor. He’d been trying for months to get enough on the MacInnes in order to do a raid and look for the evidence Jane promised would be in place. Then tonight Jane called, arranged to meet him outside the club before his shift and told him to plan the raid for tonight that she had everything set to ‘pop.’ What sucked the air out of his lungs was that the MacInnes actually staged full-blown sex scenes. He’d heard that the last shows pushed the boundaries of the law but never thought to see, well, what he saw. Someone found a robe and belted it around Rayn before wrestling him into handcuffs. “Emery!” He had to get his attention, he didn’t care if he went to jail, but Jenn didn’t do anything. “Emery!” Ellis looked over and handed Jenn to another officer before approaching his former co-worker. “Were you given your rights?” “What?” 46

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“Did anyone read you your rights?” “Yeah,” he nodded impatiently, “look, I can tell you a lot of stuff, help you any way you need, but you got to let Jenn go.” Emery laughed and moved to turn away as Rayn called after him, “She had no idea what was going to happen! I tied her up; she never agreed to do the show.” He struggled against the two uniforms holding him back. “Damn it, Emery it was rape, I’ll swear to it, just let Jenn go!” Emery stiffened and looked back at the dancer, considering him with a long look. “Jenn? As in the sainted Jennifer Taylor you always moon over?” Rayn looked agonized as he nodded yes. Emery was confused, there was no way Rayn would have hurt that woman. All he ever talked about was getting the money he needed to go home buy a ranch and try to win her love. It drove most of the guys nuts how weird he got on the subject; there was no way Rayn would hurt that girl, or was there? “What’s the MacInnes got on you,” Emery asked directing his partner to take the shaking Jenn aside. The cuffs would come off but she would still be held for questioning. *** The MacInnes seethed in anger as a detective slapped a search warrant into his hand. This was bullshit! When cops reached over and dragged his daughter out of her chair, wrestling handcuffs on her wrists he started bellowing threats and obscenities. Reaching into a jacket pocket he flipped open his cell phone and keyed in a number. “You there,” he yelled at the cop with the papers, “you’ll just set your ass down and wait for my attorney to get here. And get your damned hands off my daughter unless you plan on being shit up to your ears in misery.” To his credit the detective just gave the glowering millionaire a jaded look before pointing to the chair. His men deposited Jane in her seat but never removed the cuffs. The MacInnes had every intention of saying more but a half awake voice mumbled into the phone. “Riley, you overpriced horse thief get your ass down to my club, I been raided and they got a warrant to search my office.” He heard all sorts of noise in the phone but didn’t have time to sort it out, more important things were going on, cops harassing his customers, dragging some out in restraints and damned if they weren’t dragging off his singer before he got to taste her honey fine form. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what your problems are, get down here in twenty or consider your ass fired.” He flipped the phone closed and waded into the melee cursing and arguing with every person who got in his way. 47

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Out of respect for the MacInnes position in the business world the police waited silently until the attorney arrived. Dorald was the second generation of Riley’s to serve as attorney to the MacInnes empire. He managed to arrive in record time considering his apartment was almost on the other side of the city. When the top dog barked the smaller ones came to heel, Emery smiled in derision. Riley read the subpoenas and warrants, did an almost comical double take then read them again, this time squinting at the papers as if something hidden was waiting to jump out of a secret corner. Emery couldn’t blame him, it was an impressive array of goodies to take in all at once. Based on affidavits on file they had managed to get the first subpoena to search for substantive and corroborative evidence of enforced prostitution, illegally produced adult movies and blackmail. Now with the police having witnessed live sex acts that one of the club’s premier dancers freely admitted to anyone with ears was rape, they had managed to call and have the scope widened again in the second emergency subpoena that was faxed in scant minutes ahead of the solicitor’s arrival. “MacInnes, do you understand what these officers have permission to look for?” At his client’s grunt, Dorald tried another track, “is this true, about the live sex act? If it isn’t then I can get the amended subpoena thrown out, which will render the first one null and void since it was waived in favor of the -” “For fuck’s sake Riley, just shut up.” The MacInnes rubbed his forehead, not bad enough to be surrounded by cops in the only venue he owned where there were actual records that could nail his ass to the wall but he had to listen to the weak simpering woman’s voice of this twat. “What are they allowed to snoop through?” “Essentially, the police can delve into everything and anything relating to payroll as well as your business files. Given the newest additions they can also grab your security camera footage, tapes and discs looking for evidence of illegal sexual congress. However,” Riley turned to the police, “if the security cams do show drug deals in the crowd, you can’t be held accountable for those, they aren’t covered in the scope of the warrant. This only pertains to sexual vice, not drug related offenses.” “Can we block them?” The MacInnes looked grim. He’d gone pale under his Texan tan to the point of looking like he was wearing orangey face paint. “Did your dancer engage in sexual congress on the stage?”

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“Damn you Rayn,” the MacInnes croaked looking at the hollow-eyed dancer slumped against the wall, “couldn’t just do the dance with the little cunt, you had to slide it on home. Didn’t your momma ever tell you it was wrong to kiss and tell?” “It wasn’t kissing,” even Rayn’s voice sounded tired and wrung out, “it was rape and you wanted it. Why else send her on stage wearing fuck-me-pumps and not much else?” “Jesus,” Riley closed his eyes. “Does the young woman want to press charges?” “Who the fuck cares? She’s just some little whore my daughter drags around from college.” Rayn laughed, a raw painful sound. “Yeah, I guess the granddaughter of Senator Carson Taylor, the daughter of Case Taylor would just be nothing more than a whore to you, you prick.” “Boy you best keep a civil tongue in your head if you know what’s good for you.” Emery’s head nearly fell off he was so stunned. The singer who’d nearly incited a sex riot with her sultry songs was heir to a combined fortune that rivaled even the MacInnes’ accumulated wealth. “What the hell was she doing here?” He turned and looked closely at the pale quaking young woman in confusion. She remained silent, not reacting to anything said. Her quietness was starting to scare him. Calling one of the female officers over he gave quiet directions for Jennifer Taylor to be taken to a local hospital to have a rape test administered. “No,” she croaked out. “No tests. Not going anywhere, not yet.” Her face looked almost green under the bright fluorescent lights but there was a hard determination there as well. “Fine, stay for the party,” snapped out the MacInnes. With a wave the head detective lead the way with Riley to the back office to begin their search. *** Minutes crawled by and evolved into hours but before the night was over the police found numerous books and files, records of dancers that never set foot on stage yet collected weekly checks and caches of illicit information harvested on almost every key employee in a handful of different government sectors. Around three in the morning when the cold shivers that racked her body had settled bone deep, another flurry of calls had come distracting the coldly efficient 49

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detective Emery. He had stepped over and talked with another man in a suit before walking over to the preternaturally startled looking attorney representing the MacInnes. The cold coursed through her bones making her skeleton hurt, Jenn could feel something building within her. She had to do as she was charged but she didn’t know if she could do it with so many watching. With Rayn watching, she amended. The others would remember different things if any, but Rayn, she knew would see through to the truth and she feared he’d never look at her again. Jane had been led to another side room where she was sequestered giving statements. Every so often a person would run out of the room and report to one of the plain, clothed detectives and a new hiding spot for papers would be flushed out to the tune of refreshed cursing on the part of the MacInnes. Periodically Emery would return to her side asking if she’d reconsidered, wanting to go to the hospital. The last time he’d happened by he had looked so concerned that Jenn knew without a doubt that her dark gift was rising and fast. She didn’t want what she’d been told to be true but if her gift would bear fruit she’d have no choice but to deliver judgment. Emery wasn’t the only one worried, Rayn never let his eyes leave his golden songbird for long. As the time drug out her pallor had leeched away until her skin gleamed as pale as the moon. When her hair seemed to start bleeding from gold to silver the amber highlights flashing ashy white he begged the officer at his shoulder to have her taken away. Instead the detectives opted to look into those stage discs. He was carted into a dark room to watch over and over the scene where he had gone from merely rubbing against Jenn to the point where he cupped her pubis and slid under her hip and into his hand creating the illusion of intercourse that from the camera angle looked all too real given Jenn’s wild eyed face and white clenched hands. The escorting officers were given the discs, he was being sent to the station for charges and processing when Jenn struggled to her feet in the hall. She’d gone so pale that every vein under the skin of her face stood out in pale blue tracery. Her eye sockets were ashen, looking like pools of darkness and her eyes had an unhealthy sheen of purple bruise to the luminous iris. Hunched like a much older, frailer woman, Jenn had staggered to the main office area where the MacInnes was sequestered with the lead investigators. No one offered her 50

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a hand or obstructed her path, she looked stricken with a virus or worse. Throwing the door open wide her voice boomed out loud yet almost paper thin, a conundrum of sound. “MacInnes, I am here to sing for you,” her eyes pinned him in his chair as her mouth opened and a sound forced itself between her lips, a keening wail that had too many syllables to have issued from a human throat. It ululated from a base note of suffering and swelled into the upper ranges of tone filling the room with a rage of pain and misery screaming for vengeance. The sound scared Rayn to the soles of his feet, he wanted to make her stop, somehow knowing that the ghastly music was draining Jenn of life as it sought to claim its target, the MacInnes. Slowly the crescendo of liquid moaning warbled into gasping plaintive cries as the song bled out of her like heart’s blood from a woodland kill. As the mournful wail wound down, Jenn slid to the floor clutching her dress like a lifeline tears running down her pasty face. As the last note sounded, she grabbed her sides and bent over as if stabbed as a shot was fired from over her head. Robbie stood in the doorway saturated with rainwater, mascara running down his face, chest straining under sobs as blood ran down his legs. Clutched in the long fingers of his left hand was a small caliber gun, the barrel smoking as it shook in his palsied grip. He stared at the gun and looked back at the splashing crimson sprays jetting into the air before dropping it and collapsing onto Jenn’s prone form.

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Part Six The Matter

Chaos is normally the way most people view violent crimes and their aftermath. Rayn however came to appreciate the ballet of motion, the swift choreography of movement and activity as the police swept into the room to gently haul away both Robbie and Jenn. Scant moments later ambulance personnel surged into the room with red leather bags brimming with plastics and tubes designed to keep even the most profane alive against all odds. Their failure sagged the bright colors away from the splashes of sticky red-black blood and white skin of the MacInnes as the sepulcher tones of the coroner’s office flooded on the scene. The inside of the club strobed with party-lights, not from the bank of expensive stage riggings but from ambulance and police vehicles then later from the popping lights of photographers’ cameras and sweeps of blinding ether-light from television light banks. Uniforms pushed through the room. The navy cops pirouetting with the plain clothes officers before waltzing with the lighter tones of ambulance crews and on to the virgin white of the cleaning crews sent to make sure any infectious blood was harvested and on again to a set of people dressed in somber tones of black and brown. Evidence sweepers and deputy coroners performed their carrion-like duties before the garish carnival was struck for the night, loading for transport only to decamp and resume at the police station and morgue. After the brutal song, Rayn fell into a state where he couldn’t seem to hold sound in his head. It was like being a kid again using a colander trying to sift sand, only pebbles and pieces of flotsam remained. Numbly he sat and watched the tide of humanity ebb and flow around him until it finally bore him up and off into the night. He had the barest memories of being questioned; being asked to sign papers but his hands couldn’t hold the pen. A woman with jowls that belonged on a bulldog made him stand in his borrowed robe as she took his picture. Something must have happened because after the first click and flash he started dancing the way he’d been trained to under the bright lights. Another 52

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man had come into the room. His ears buzzed their words burning and itching but not making sense. A white clad form with pale skin came in and drew blood from Rayn’s arm before administering a shot. It stung and burned a path from this forearm to his shoulder and in a panic he tried to claw at the skin but it went away and he stopped. The bull-dog woman returned and led him to another room where she rolled his fingers in cold sticky ink. Room after room, woman to man and back again, it all blended into a collage of coldness that radiated out from where his heart used to be. He was dragged in front of a night court judge who looked at him oddly (had he danced for her in a back room?) before banging her gavel and waving him off to a cold shower where rough hands probed every opening on his body before scouring his shivering flesh with sandy soap. Eventually he was stuffed into pants that were too short for his legs and a shirt that bagged around his middle before being dumped into a cell with a half dozen other men. One looked up hopefully then crawled farther into a corner crying. Rayn knew the youth was crying because his face was wet and his eyes red, but he didn’t hear the sobs, all he could hear was the pain, anger and the death of the MacInnes in the final notes of Jenn’s horrible song. Hours drizzled past and coalesced into daylight, but the men in the steel cell didn’t mark the new day’s dawn by light but by the changing of the guard. For a few minutes there was almost activity in the dark passage of the cellblock before falling dark and silent again. Now Rayn’s ears picked up the muffled cries of the thin, bodied young man. He looked to the rear of the cell and saw a pale man drag the kid out of the corner by his hair, unzipping his fly. He looked like death, all white taut skin over skeletal bones and corded muscles. It was obvious from the way the others didn’t look that this wasn’t the first time in the night someone had been selected for amusement. How much had he missed while he slept in his own mind? Rayn was sick with himself. He’d worked his ass off trying to keep guys like this, ones like Robbie out of the MacInnes’s radar, knowing full well what would happen to them. He stood and was surprised to note how much bigger he was than the skinhead trying to make the blubbering teen suck his dick. Almost casually he backhanded the racist and pulled the younger man to sit cuddled up in his lap the way he burned to do with his Jenn. Perhaps this would help, perhaps he could redeem himself this one time. Slowly the smaller man caged in his lap relaxed and calmed. From his new spot in the corner Rayn looked at the rest of the men in the cell, staking his claim before sitting on guard for the duration. 53

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With breakfast the silent trio of Hispanic barrio fighters was called out. Just before lunch a burly biker was released leaving Rayn alone with his sleeping ‘bitch’ and the skinhead. At lunchtime a small woman came to the cell to collect the young man cowering on his lap. She looked utterly appalled at the sight, the guards grinned behind her and sobered quickly as she turned to timidly complain. Once outside the cell the young man hushed his mother, quietly telling her it was okay, nothing bad happened. Rayn had a feeling that junior would never drink underage and drive again. Hell of a way to learn a simple thing. Drink a beer and show off for your friends and get rewarded by being raped by a skinhead. Nice. Idly Rayn wondered if he had ever been so damned stupid or naive. Not since he was eighteen and got run off by Case Taylor for daring to look at his daughter. At the time he thought Taylor was the biggest prick alive, in the months and years he spent under the MacInnes he learned differently. “Just you and me pretty boy,” the bone-thin neo-Nazi drawled from the other side of the cage. “Now that we’re alone you think you could take me again so easy?” Rayn snorted, the dude had to be kidding. Sure there were others in the cell when the bitch slapped the asshole off the kid but no one had stepped to his side, what made him think that Rayn needed back up? “He is never alone,” the musical voice from the door almost stopped his heart. Jenn? No, he peered into the shadows, it wasn’t Jenn it was her mom. Now that’s a stunner, he thought, she never spoke a word that anyone on the ranch had ever heard. “You’re here to bail me out, after what I did?” Rayn didn’t think so. He’d prefer to take his chances with the skinhead rather than head out with Jenn’s parents for a down home lynch party. “You did nothing to fear. Case is at the hospital with Jennifer, she needs you. Most of the charges were dropped. I am sorry but you will have to pay a fine for lewd behavior. That was necessary to keep the search warrant and all seized evidence legal. Do you mind?” From never saying a word to not shutting up, this day, rather these past few days had been a nonstop roller coaster of surprising revelations. He surged to his feet and shrugged his lack of caring. At the door he turned and blew a kiss to his seething former cellmate. 54

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Rachel seemed surprised at how much he’d changed in the last six years, Rayn felt almost uncomfortable under her gaze. Time had not been gentle, he had gone from being a gangling farm hand with an innocent beauty to a rugged, sleek sex machine. Rayn was almost stunned speechless when she started a running monologue. Rachel chatted about how her daughter had chosen well so many years ago when she locked her heart to no one but him. His head spun and his jaws ached with the questions he longed to ask but instead he listened patiently. Rachel explained how she mourned that Case had taken Jenn’s choice so badly, forcing the teenaged Rayn from home and away from Jenn. Mr. Taylor had hoped she’d choose the Morrison boy, instead something had happened that turned Mark into a viciously cruel caricature of himself, saying horrible things about Jennifer up until the day he’d killed himself. As if the death necessitated a memorial pause, she quieted, then continued on in a subdued tone. To her daughter’s credit, Jennifer had never let the “baseless, crass accusations bother her.” Rachel stated she was convinced that ‘something’ was shared between the two that had sent her daughter into silence for weeks after the boy died. Days after the funeral Mark’s parents stopped in to say they were moving back east, that a buyer had been found for the farm. Rayn tensed, he never considered that the Morrisons would hold a goodbye visit with the family of the girl that allegedly drove their son to suicide. His fears were groundless as Rachel prattled on seamlessly, echoing his thoughts. “At the time I feared that the Morrisons blamed my poor daughter for their son’s death, ‘he believed in you’ Mark’s mother had said. Now I suspect those words meant something else. But what?” she asked herself, worrying her full lower lip between even white teeth. Silently Rayn walked beside Rachel to the desk sergeant’s glass cubicle where he was made to sign a number of papers before being handed a paper envelope containing the thin satin robe and brass spurs he had been wearing when he was incarcerated. Rachel’s eyes shot up under her hair as she stood back and imagined the beautiful male before her wearing only those things and her face heated. “Lewd behavior indeed,” she muttered. He caught her look and quirked a brow before his eyes went empty and hot, sliding her a sideways smile that put small worry frowns in her brow. Stepping out into the sunshine, the brilliant light almost blinded Rayn but not nearly so much as the sight of Rachel Taylor next to him, she was nearly luminous. She 55

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always had this ageless look that made him think of fairies when he was a kid. Fine lines on her face and silvered threads in her hair didn’t diminish that timeless beauty, only reinforced it. He’d missed the storm that he had felt building at the club. A part of him mourned, he needed the latent energy of a good storm to help him feel clean again. “I never thought to see someone so depressed at a blue sky.” Rachel smiled at him and for a moment he saw Jenn and smiled back the way his heart craved, but when he reached out and touched the woman beside him he felt the difference and retreated within again. “Sorry,” he mumbled moving to walk an arm’s breadth away. Rachel directed him towards a rental car at the curb across the street. Once settled in the car’s warm interior, Rachel tried again. “You never asked how we got the rape charge dropped.” Rayn shrugged, staring ahead. “Aren’t’ you curious in the least?” He sat silent. “Oh well, I thought you’d be interested in hearing how bad the cops looked, arresting Rayn “The Stallion” Desantis for raping a hymen intact woman.” His head snapped around in shock. “What?” He demanded. “Thought that would get your attention, though the stallion comment certainly got Case’s,” Rachel giggled girlishly, “I think he was jealous.” “But…but what about that mess with Mark Morrison?” Part of the reason he had approached the Morrison’s about buying them out was to exorcise the bad memories Jenn had to have about their son and home after… “You mean what really happened? I can’t say. Honestly I can’t,” she frowned looking for road signs, “I hate driving in big cities, they’re damned confusing. Only Jennifer can tell you what really happened.” Spotting the sign for the hospital ahead, Rayn pointed and she breathed a sigh of relief and quietly made the turn aiming for the next block and the blue, labeled visitor parking lot. Pulling into the lot, she collected a cream colored ticket pockmarked with computer generated holes and tattoos from an annoying beeping and buzzing box before sliding the large sedan into a spot facing the emergency room doors. Getting out, they walked to the hospital entrance. The doors were huge sliding glass panels that didn’t seem to like Rachel, they kept refusing to see her as she tried to enter. “Rayn, before we go in…you do know what Jennifer is? What I am, don’t you?” 56

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“No, all I know is that when I see her, hear her, I feel that everything is finally right in the world. She’s…well, everything to me.” Rachel smiled, beautiful as the sentiment was it wasn’t what she was asking. “You’ve heard her sing.” He grimaced. “Oh yeah, I watched last night as a room full of distracted women turned into slavering sex addicts. Later I listened as she let out the most inhuman noise I’ve ever heard, and nothing sounded right for hours afterwards.” He shook his head. Rachel was beyond stunned. “You heard the death wail she sang for that MacInnes man?” No one else had heard it. Some of the cops had heard a sadly sweet dirge thinking the girl’s mind had broken, no one had reported hearing anything else. She told him as much. “Death wail?” Quickly he directed her back to the song. “Yes, death-wail. We have a power of voice, Korrigan by day, banshee by night when the fates call upon us. Something pushed her to be where she was tonight, something called, demanded she be there. In all my years I have only been called a handful of times to do the same and never in the manner that she was called.” She swallowed and paled, “It drained her too far. She is fading.” Rayn was confused. He had no idea what to ask or where to start as questions flooded his mind. So he started with the first one that popped. “Why didn’t you fade like she did? And for that why are you talking now?” “I never spoke around those close to me for fear of influencing you by my voice. Silly of me, but I’d watched my mother use her voice to gain everything she wanted and she was a cruel woman. Not all of the caoine are nice, often we are vicious and to be avoided. “As for why Jennifer faded, she is unmated. She has no love, no heart to make her whole. A banshee is only known by her wail and ugly look, the Korrigan by their incredible beauty and seductive song during the day. Think on that. The only one a Korrigan is truly beautiful to is the one who claims her heart. We aren’t pure anymore, we are mostly human so human males can see our beauty, but without a mate when we sing our beauty fades unless rebuilt in the heart of love.” “She sang a death song with no love to bolster her, she fades.” Rachel stopped and made Rayn meet her eyes, “she is dying.” 57

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Part Seven The Bridge

Case sat quietly amid the beeping of the numerous machines wired into his daughter. He knew what ailed her even if the doctors were clueless. Grudgingly he admitted he was partly at fault for wanting more for his daughter than a simple ranch hand. We always want better for our kids without stopping to ask if our view of what is better really is in their best interest. The truth doesn’t just hurt, it slices deep, he grimaced. What rubbed his nose in it was how each time his little girl opened her eyes she asked the same thing, “Rayn?” Then not seeing him just slid back into unconsciousness. The first time she had asked for him it had sparked an argument between him and Rachel. She immediately wanted to find him, he just wanted the man’s head on a pike. When Jenn was sixteen and confided in her mother that Rayn was ‘the one,’ instead of being as happy as Rachel was he’d gotten pissed and confronted the eighteen year-old. When Jenn turned seventeen and seemed somehow diminished when Rayn didn’t show for her party, Case felt a small twinge of guilt. So he ruthlessly pushed her at the Morrison boy. What a mess that was, he grimaced again. Mark had taken her to movies and dinner, to dances and on dates but she didn’t really seem interested. The young man was surly and started getting nastier, and even threatened to hit Jenn. Then she went away to college and he followed, getting caught up in some kind of mess there that sharpened his edge made him almost feral. His parents dragged him home and in retaliation Mark had told everyone about what a good party-time girl Jenn had turned into, taking multiple lovers to her bed at a time. Jenn never did anything but smile sadly at Mark and remind him that no matter what they were friends. Then a week later he was gone, blew his fool head off with his dad’s shotgun. Jenn’s eyes opened. Before she could ask he said, “Your mother went to get him, should be here soon.” She just smiled and stared. 58

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“Why so sad daddy?” Her voice sounded so soft and thin it hurt his heart. “It’s my fault, all of this; you being here, Mark, Rayn…all of it.” “No. Mark wasn’t happy. He made his own choices. He was hurt, yes, he asked…” she swallowed hard and Case moved to bring her a small cup of water, aiming the straw to help her. “Thanks. He asked me to be there, Jane told him.” “Jane? You’re roommate? How does she figure in all this?” Her face was so white, the blue veins stood out in bas relief and purple capillaries mapped a city beneath her eyes. “He went with Jane to a place her dad owned. Came back…hurting. Jane was quiet, don’t know all that happened but she wasn’t happy. She hurt too. Must have told him of me…she knows, calls me sister, cousin. He called the night he died, asked me to sing for him. He died too far away.” Tears filled her eyes, drowning the irises until the moisture leaked from the corners. “I owed him.” “You didn’t owe him shit!” Case snarled out. “That pissant ruined your reputation, talked trash about you.” “Who cared? No one. Not me. I knew the truth. You and mamma know the truth.” Jenn’s breathing became labored, “the only one it mattered for me wasn’t around. He’d left. Again…not your fault.” “Actually baby, that was my fault.” Jennifer looked at her father, saw his pain, the shame and felt it in her heart. “Oh daddy, you didn’t?” “Yeah, I uh, kind of did.” She licked her lips and he held the cup for her again. “Do you know how badly he hurt where he was?” Case ground his teeth, he didn’t want to know, didn’t want to care damn it. But looking at his daughter’s face he couldn’t keep the feeling going, it drained out of him in a whoosh. “I said it was my fault--” “No,” Rayn’s voice at the door interrupted the older man. “No, it wasn’t only your fault. I could have stayed, ignored you, but then my family wouldn’t have a home or work.” Jenn’s eyes bulged as she turned to look at her father. The joy that had lit up her face at seeing Rayn faded into consternation. “Come on Sunshine, let’s get you out of here before these people kill you with kindness.” Jenn looked at him sadly. “Rayn, I’m dying.” 59

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“No, you are not.” *** He looked down at her and it twisted his heart, she looked so drained. Instead of letting her see his concern, he smiled and smoothed her golden hair away from her face, tucking the lank ends behind her ears. Jenn blushed as his rough tipped fingers caressed the soft shell of her ear. Leaning over her he smoothed the skin of her neck, lightly brushing the thin silk hidden there. Tilting his thumb under her chin he kept her tremulous blue eyes on his, forcing her to see the banked heat that mere touches raised. Shock faded into want as she struggled to accept the truth in his eyes. Before anyone could object Rayn slid his hands under her shoulders and dropped his mouth to hers. Jenn held her breath in anticipation as his warm lips lightly teased hers, butterfly light, cajoling before pushing a little more, dancing between asking and begging in urgency applying more pressure. A soft nip at her bottom lip startled Jenn into opening her mouth to the heat of his hunger as his tongue softly delved and suckled making stars flare nova bright behind her eyes. Her heart raced as she lifted her chin opening to deepen the kiss, but instead he smiled against her lips, trailing soft kisses across her cheek to her neck seeking the soft skin under her earlobe. Slowly he levered back and looked into her rosy face, drugged eyes, soft lips and grinned. “You look pretty damned healthy to me Sunshine. Let’s blow this Popsicle stand.” He captured her shaking hand as it fluttered to her chest. “All the way home, both of us.” Jenn looked over to her parents and choked, her mother was holding her father in his chair, his face mottled purple. “Somehow Rayn, I don’t think, daddy likes you as much as my mom does.” He laughed and started peeling needles, electrodes and sensors off her gowned form. “Don’t quite matter what Case Taylor likes, he’s stuck with me.” He sent a sharp smile at the seething man, “I’m your new neighbor, or didn’t you hear?”

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Part Eight Mastering

It was a long trip home, hostility not withstanding, Jenn was loaded into a coach ambulance for the trip. Her doctors refused to let her leave in less. Being without a car of his own Rayn was stuck sitting like a stone in the back of the Taylors’ rented car. It galled him, but not nearly so much as his call to Jane asking if someone could go up to the small apartment over the club he shared with some of the other dancers to box up and ship his belongings. Too many hours in an ambulance had taken a toll on Jenn. Her color had flushed back to something paler than milk. Rayn ignored both parents and played shepherd with the medical crew making sure Jenn was comfortable before sitting at her side, annoying and teasing her into better health. Word didn’t take long to reach the ends of the ranch. Within hours Rayn’s family swamped him with gruff hugs, wet kisses and loads of tears. A small part of him had looked forward to coming home but a jaded part felt out of place, distant. He felt even more a lien when Case Taylor snidely interrupted his mother’s long-winded list of things to do while he was home for a visit. “Didn’t your boy tell you Skye? Rayn bought the Morrison spread.” Rayn’s family fell silent and simply stared open mouthed in shock. In all the letters he had never mentioned anything of the sort. Compared to the Taylor ranch it was more of a gentleman’s farm, one that had stood empty after the Morrisons fled back east. Still it was big news and Skye’s eyes looked wounded that her son never thought to tell her. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” he managed to bite out. He wanted to punch Case Taylor, beat him raw and bloody for being such an ass. It was obvious that no matter what Rayn did he’d never be seen as good enough for Jenn, regardless of what she wanted. So be it. 61

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Rachel moved to stand between the two men, placing a hand on either chest. True to form she went mute walking through the front door. It made no sense and only served to spike Rayn’s anger higher. The lovely older woman accepted him, welcomed him to her family but would not say a word in his defense, not in front of anyone but her blood family. Cursing, he turned and walked out the front door, ignoring the fields and taking the long access road to the small farm he had bought with his soul. Days fell into a pattern, he’d make the long walk to the Taylor house, spend a few hours sniping at Case, ignoring Rachel and trying to cajole Jenn into a smile before visiting with his family. Pee Wee showed up on the third day with a battered pickup and the rest of his belongings. What caught his attention was the long letter from Jane. He’d hated asking her, but he needed more than what was in his bank account and his last pay to finish buying the farm. She turned him down flat. In a way he couldn’t blame her, most of her dad’s assets were frozen because of the ongoing investigation. Hell, he hadn’t even picked up a phone to tell her he was sorry for her loss. Rayn couldn’t have cared less that the old bastard was dead. Not after wanting it in his heart so many times, but he could have remembered Jane was going to be hurt. She wasn’t his favorite person, not by a long shot. Jane had never hurt him, used him yes, but never caused him pain. The more light shone on that mess the uglier the old man looked. It stunned him that no one uncovered The Retreat the old bastard ran. It was the training center he started for his flesh businesses. Not surprisingly Jane didn’t know much about it, aside from its reputation. She wanted to change that, cleanse her family’s sins expose them to daylight. He’d have to consider long and hard her offer, peel the lid off of his memories of the time he spent there for her assistance. Pee Wee stayed on long enough to relay that Robbie was still in the hospital. The MacInnes had sold him off for the night to a group, he hadn’t told the young man that it wasn’t a private dance party. Robbie had needed stitches and was on a serious assortment of tranquilizers. It didn’t look like the cops were going to charge him, his public defender did a crack job of sealing that up right and tight, temporary insanity was good enough all things considered. The MacInnes was definitely out of business, all of his businesses not the least being the business of breathing. That appeased enough people, for now, he mused looking at Jane’s letter clutched in his fist. Waving Pee Wee down the road, Rayn 62

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stomped on what was left of his pride and called the Morrisons, if nothing else he could explain why his payments were going to be late. Two hours later he sat on his sun bleached wooden porch in shock. It was now really his porch. Mary Morrison had been more than happy to sign the place over. He never knew what had happened to Mark, only what he had supposedly done to Jenn. Rayn closed his eyes and felt his insides hollow. When he had approached his boss and asked to go to The Retreat, demanded to be there actually, it had been his intention to get back at Mark. Mark told everyone about Jenn partying with him at MacInnes’ Retreat. Only after getting there did Rayn learn the truth, there were no women at The Retreat. Quickly he slammed the lid on his memories of the place. Some things would never heal, but hopefully time would erase them. Above the sky turned a soft shade of tin as a late winter storm moved in. The air felt pregnant, laden with tension and energy. He closed his eyes and let go of everything immersing himself body and soul in the building maelstrom. By midnight, he estimated the storm would be ready to howl, should be a great show. *** Jenn was sick and tired of being sick and tired. The only time she even felt alive anymore was when Rayn managed to get past her dad and come visit. She had enough. Throwing back the covers, she sat up slowly and swung her feet over the side. Not too bad, she countered, a little dizzy but not too wonky. Cheating just a bit she slid forward and eased herself to the ground, using the bed as a prop until she was sure she wouldn’t fall. Okay, shaky but up on my own, the thought galvanized her into action. She walked unsteadily across the room and pulled off the detested hospital gown in favor of a shower. The water felt like it was beating her up but she stood under the hot torrent, forcing herself to stretch and relax. A quick toweling and she lurched back into her bedroom digging out clothes. Critically Jenn looked through her closet. Why did everything have to be pink, peach or something styled for a girl half her age? She had forgotten why she left home and bought everything new. Her father was delusional. Pulling a bag out from the bottom of the closet she started sorting things into piles of “keep” and “burn.” Most likely she’d just send the bag to Rayn’s sister Dawn, the clothes were much more suitable to a fifteen year-old. Keeping only three dresses and a pair of slacks, the mound on the floor was appalling in size. Shrugging she turned her 63

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attention to her drawers. These weren’t as bad, most were jeans and T-shirts. Stuffing the offending clothes into a bag, Jenn waffled before changing into a peach colored sun dress. Standing in front of the mirror Jenn almost gave up and went back to bed. Her eyes were shadowed and sunken, looming huge in her face. Her hair looked like it was weighing her shoulders down and the dress didn’t do anything more than make her skin look even more sallow. No. She waited eight long years for Rayn to come home, she had to see him. Casually she walked out of her bedroom and into the kitchen, stopping to grab a soda from the refrigerator. “Young lady you will go back to bed.” Case scowled over his newspaper. “No dad, I don’t think so. I have things I need to do today.” Leaning back against the counter she hoped he couldn’t see how bad she was shaking. She shouldn’t have wasted time and energy going through her closet. “Things like what? What could possibly be so important? You need to go to bed, rest and relax and regain your strength.” “You’ve lived with a caoine enough years dad, you know that isn’t going to happen,” tilting her head to the side she studied the tired care worn planes of her dad’s face. He was a good, looking man, high clear forehead with concentration lines shadowing his blue-gray eyes. His dark brown hair had gone silver when she was a child. He used to toss her in the air, tickling her tummy and laugh that she gave him every last silver hair, sneaking off to sing to the water sprites. Sprites she treated like imaginary friends. He just couldn’t see and never really would. Case ground his teeth in fury. “If you would have just stayed home like your mother you wouldn’t be in this position.” “Mom chose to live in seclusion with you, I don’t. Rayn is my choice, always has been and always will be. You are my father and I will always love you, but I do have grandmother’s trust fund. Don’t make me draw on it, it would upset mom.” Jenn watched coldly as her father flinched. Her grandmother Sheila had used her voice and power as a weapon amassing a fortune that she left in trust to her granddaughter. Jenn knew about her grandmother, the stories had started in edited form as a child, however, the letter she opened on her seventeenth birthday made her question a lot of things. The letter had said Sheila wanted her grandchild to have the money knowing she may never have a true 64

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chance at freedom or the life-saving love she’d need to survive under her parents’ thumbs. “Should have let your mother give that dirty money to charity, you’ve got no idea the lives she ripped apart--” “Yes, I could have, but then I wouldn’t have had the ability to be able to stand on my own.” “I forbid you to leave this house and I forbid you to see that--” “Be very careful father that you don’t say something you might later regret.” Her voice was melodious, cold and flowed past him in a way Rachel’s never did. He could see hints of darkness sparkling along her skin, she glittered in ice points and shadows not with rage but finality, a cold resolve. Case’s chest hurt as he tried to draw a deep breath the air was so chill it made his diaphragm cramp. “Case!” Rachel rushed into the breakfast nook, the vibrations in the air calling to her. “You cannot forbid me to leave this house. You lack the power to hold me. You cannot forbid me to see Rayn, he is my heart, my center, without him I will be the bean sidhe as pure as grandma ever was.” “More,” Rachel croaked out. Both father and daughter turned to stare, one calmly the other in shock. “You are more powerful than your grandmother, you use your voice without drawing from anyone, only the wail causes you to lessen. That’s why I wanted you to leave home and have lessons. Rayn has always had my blessings. Your father,” she grimaced, “he’s just being a father. No one will ever be good enough for his little girl.” “Rayn it will be or you’ll not have a daughter at all.” Jenn whispered in a tone that conjured a swirling tide of darkness to darken the once bright room. Slowly she stalked towards the front door. Cursing again Case stood up and moved ahead of his pale sweating daughter. “You aren’t going anywhere missy, or didn’t you hear me?” He had enough of this foolishness, she came home and home was where she was going to stay, nice and safe at home. “Oh Case, no.” Rachel whimpered. Jenn stiffened and reached down deep to the hidden reserves of power she had only once tapped into singing the long overdue funeral dirge for her unmourned 65

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grandmother. Power arced over her skin like loosed lightning. Her hair drifted around her face as if riding air waves only she could see and feel. The tendrils lifted and whipped moon white around her head as she drew on her other side and focused. “Wind, I call your breath to hand.” Blowing across the palm of her hand her father was blown off his feet and into the wall of the living room. She waved her other hand and a torrent roared like a freight train across the room ripping pictures from the walls, slamming into the front door and twisting it off its hinges. She appeared to float on the air currents, gliding over the top of the polished wood floor. Tilting her face to the darkening skies she breathed, “Rayn.” *** Soaking up the feeling of the approaching storm Rayn felt the summons hit him like a sword through his guts. Without thinking he took off across the fields separating the ranch houses. By the road the distance was close to five miles, across the fields it was less than a mile. The air changed, became oppressive, heavy and dangerous, the storm would throw twisters if it didn’t hit land soon, he thought as the Taylor house came into view in the distance. When he was half-way to the house a roaring filled the air and he spun looking to see if he could find where the funnel of the twister was shaping, he could hear it, sense it coming hard and fast. Turning he almost missed seeing the front door of the Taylor home ripped from its moorings and sail into the air on a small brutal tongue of wind. He stopped, shocked and watched as the mini-twister moved about three hundred feet and blew out. Looking towards the house he saw movement and raced onward, heart in his throat. In his blood he felt her call as his eyes saw her lips move, his mind heard the sound as if whispered by secret lips. Rayn reached the bottom of the steps to the front door as Jenn crossed the threshold, collapsing into his open arms as the storm broke with a thunderclap dumping sheets of rain. One look inside the house at her parents had Rayn moving towards the horse barn behind the main house. His brothers should be in, they knew not to be out in the open during a Texas lightning storm. He cradled Jenn in his arms, alarmed at how light she felt. Her hair was liberally streaked silver and white like some strange beauty school experiment. Walking up to the barn he almost sagged in relief as he saw Mark slide open the big runway doors to let the horses out. With his youngest son, Rayn’s very Italian dad 66

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finally got his choice of names and thus Mark Anthony was reborn causing the teenager worlds of teasing. “Rayn? Dude, get in here!” Mark waved him in as the horses formed in a line, noses blowing eager to be out reveling in the storm. At the end of the double row of stall he saw what he was seeking. “Hawk! Leave Timber Tiger saddled for me, will ya?” His younger brother looked up and grinned then saw Jenn’s limp form. “Shit Hoss, I was gonna ask why you needed to mess up a perfectly good saddle to ride out the storm.” For his size Hawk had an incredibly deep voice, so deep it crackled when he had to shout. Damn but he looks like dad, Rayn grinned suddenly missing the old man, who’d returned to Italy just before Rayn left home and never returned, killed in some car bombing when he was stopped over in England on his way back home. “I’m taking her over to my house.” Hawk nodded, he saw first hand what a raving asshole her father had turned into once Jenn returned home. Rayn lifted Jenn in his arms balanced a forearm on the pommel then swung up in the saddle. “Drop rein him will you? Tiger don’t need it and I got no hands.” Years before when he’d been training for amateur rodeo competitions he’d spent long hours training the older stud to recognize knee signals over relying on using reins. Hawk unsnapped the bit and lengths of leather as Rayn urged the horse into the storm. Instead of heading straight home Rayn sidetracked, stopping at the old swimming hole. Rachel had told him that Jenn was weak and needed to be grounded in his strength in order to return to herself. He was strongest in his own right only while riding the storms he’d been named for. Sliding quickly off Tiger, Rayn placed Jenn’s limp body over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and swatted the stud on his rump aiming him towards the barn and nice dry hay. By the small reed ringed pond was a large sandstone rock that everyone loved to lay on in the summer. It sucked the water off your skin in the heat that drying was almost never a problem. Today the rough stone surface was almost slick as water bubbled along the coppery surface. Gently he laid Jenn on the stone, checking her pulse and breathing. She was too still. Straddling her hips he placed a hand on her chest and felt the light rise and fall of her breathing. The tumult of the storm eased for a split second as lightning forked across 67

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the heavens with a resounding crack of blinding fury. Thunder rumbled as the ground trembled, that was close only a few miles off. He peeled his shirt off over his head and heaved it towards the trail. When the storm broke loose something unfurled in his chest and raged in time to the sweeping winds and driving rain. Slowly the winds blew themselves out on the long prairies letting the clouds dump their burden unimpeded. The water coursed over his back like a lovers caress as he eased his long frame over Jenn’s, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to feel her skin against his. Gently he rolled the spaghetti straps of the sun dress off her shoulders then peeled it down her body, revealing matching bra and panties. He hated ruining the beautiful picture she made laying prone on the stone but hunger rose forcing him to peel out of his jeans, not an easy task with all the water they’d taken on. Wearing only his underwear he positioned himself over Jenn, shielding her from the worst of the storm. Hip to hip he laid over her, gently parting her legs with one of his own. Pulling her under his side he sheltered her face from the rain and began kissing her mouth. *** Tendrils of electric energy danced along her nerve endings, pulling Jenn from a deep dark sleep. She felt like a flower seeing the sun for the first time. Thirst exploded along all of her senses demanding that she come closer and feel more, soak in more of the delicious tickles that ran over her skin and under to the blood and deeper. Faintly Jenn’s eyes fluttered, then opened to cat-like slits of hungry burgeoning satisfaction as she watched Rayn burn bright under the power of the storm. Water ran through his hair, tickling and heating forming rivulets that traced over his cheeks and nose and over Jenn’s face like fairy fingers massaging her cheeks and jaw. She felt warm and cold at once as she waked to the storm and her love. For a moment she marveled in the rich spicy taste of him, opening farther to the rousing dream she must be in before a booming roll of thunder rolled over her senses dragging her fully awake. His mouth was hot and moved with sinful precision as his lips nipped and sucked at her mouth, she groaned and lifted a cold wet hand to caress his face and draw him closer, deeper to end the teasing. She wanted the full heat of him over her, running through her. Touching his slick skin was at once incredibly sensual and frustrating, she couldn’t hold onto any part of him long enough or hard enough to make her desires known. 68

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Rayn smiled down, he felt her wake to his touch and heard her little growls of frustration. Good, he wanted her hot and as turbulent as the weather surging around them. As the storm reduced in fury to a shower the heat of the stone began forming steamy tendrils that rose around their bare limbs. Jenn imagined that the warm humid air whispered to her blood of sin while the rest waved past her face in exaltation. Looking into Rayn’s eyes was like watching the storm tossed skies, streaks of tumultuous grey swirling and falling across hints of blue and flashes of a greater darkness. Trusting completely in him she relaxed and offered him her throat. Lips smiling he nuzzled at the soft proffered flesh, dragging his teeth across the soft skin just above her collar bone, tasting a small salty tear behind the lobe of an ear, licking the hollow of her shuddering throat before eclipsing her sky and savoring the far shoulder. Again and again she felt an electrical charge build and race to pool in her midsection before a cacophony of sound rumbled in the distance and the feeling ebbed leaving her shaking and breathless. He is the storm, she thought dreamily as lightning slashed across the sky and echoed under her skin. Work roughened fingers slid under her shoulders and to the aching muscles along her spine. His clever fingers kneaded, coaxed and spread warmth making her arch and moan, thrusting her lace-covered breasts against his chest; eyes gleaming he gave in to the sharp need that rose each time the rough lace rubbed his skin. With more want than grace his fingers twisted open the clasp freeing her breasts. Moaning at the beauty revealed he plunged face down into the soft mounds of flesh tipped in dusky rose and laved the orbs with his tongue, suckling, nipping and rippling the young firm flesh between hungry fingers. Lost to the feelings shooting through her body, Jenn cried out rubbing shamelessly against him, trying to force his attention everywhere at once. For one moment his storm, glazed eyes met hers before he clasped her hands overhead in the lacy confines of her bra. Her fingers felt the smooth bark of a small bush; curiously she tugged but couldn’t free her hands from the simple snare. Shifting she felt the first stirrings of panic rise as Rayn licked her bottom lip, then the hollow of her throat before settling on a rosy tipped breast. Through hooded eyes she watched as he circled one areola then plucked it between lips then teeth. Pulsing licks of heat speared through her, not just pooling in her stomach but beyond, through her legs to the soles of her feet. 69

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Unable to move her hands she writhed in agony of wanting to touch him. Slowly her mind focused and offered whispered suggestions that she gladly grabbed. Drawing her legs apart she bent one knee and rubbed the arch of her foot along his slippery side and down. The feeling of his underwear ruined the feeling so on the next pass she hooked the sodden material with a toe and inched it over his hip. Craving his heat she tried hooking her heel between his legs and urging him forward. It proved more than his restraint could manage. Hooking a thumb under his twisted waistband he slid the material off and cast it aside before reaching down and freeing Jenn from her peach colored panties. His breath sucked in at the sight of her sandy colored triangle, the crisp curls stopped above her flushed labia. Hoping to slow things, Rayn lifted a thigh and nibbled at the soft flesh. A memory of a dream blazed through her mind as she heaved against the stone bed, feet flat begging for a deeper caress. Ignoring the blatant demand he tasted her desire by lapping lightly at her outer lips, tracing the creases and folds ignoring the swelling flesh aching for his tongue until her keening took on a different tone, became melody, a song of lust and want that melted through his restraints. Roughly he speared his tongue along her clit, working the flesh as his fingers dipped and probed her sheath. She seemed unusually tight but the song drove him to madness. Pulling back he lifted her hips, supporting her lower back with an arm as he lined his engorged cock with her weeping opening. “Look at me,” he demanded huskily. When she opened her dilated eyes to stare at him, confused yet locked in pleasure, he surged forward into her incredible heat and wetness before lunging to a stop. Everything in him screamed to keep going, his hips kept making small rocking motions rioting against his attempt to control the assault. She had been a virgin, the idea wiped his mind blank and his insides iced. Jenn had no reservations. A part of her mind was locked in the dream state where Jane’s voice cooed and cajoled demanding song, promising dripping pleasure, she was oblivious to the pain, as promised she only felt the fire and the need tearing her apart. Levering her feet on the ground she tried to make the sweet burning ache build in frustrated thrusts against his hips. Wanting, yearning in such need, twisting and turning but he refused, never changed the speed of the slow hot tempo his hips danced lightly against hers taunting her need daring it to meet his as song turned into screams of frustration that met the crashing crescendo of thunder. Loosing control he thrust into her tightness, feeling the impossible tightening milking him like a fist of raw liquid heat, fire burned from his feet to his spine 70

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rushing over him in a release so violent that he saw sharp flashes of light that blinded him to all but firefly motes of luminance dancing on the night air. “Oh God,” Jenn gasped out beneath his shoulder. She had watched bemused as the clouds shifted overhead and struck at them in blinding light. He had taken the bolt and directed it around her but at the last moment as they both fell over the edge she felt burned, scorched, reborn in his arms. “I hope lightning does strike twice.” She teased nipping his nose as he wheezed in silent laughter. *** Neither felt the urge to wrestle on the sopping clothes strewn about the pond. They simply looked around laughing at the night sky and walked hand in hand to his home. Their home. He had been most emphatic on that. It wasn’t just his it was now theirs, when she teased him about living in sin; he dropped to a knee in the puddle clay field and proposed. Jenn just laughed and told him how that wasn’t necessary, he’d always been hers, he just never knew it. Distracted, Rayn never took note of the blazing lights inside his home until it was too late. Walking through the door, arm in arm, the muddy disheveled pair stopped in shock in front of Rachel Taylor. She sat in a wingchair in the center of the room looking almost regal as her eyes burned with a curious light. But it was her hands that captured Rayn’s attention as they cupped a large caliber revolver. “You never slept with Mark Morrison did you?” The voice seemed different than the soft gentle tones she had used on him in the police station. This was harsh demanding, like needles scarping on a chalkboard. “I did not. I told you then I didn’t, that my heart belonged to Rayn. You decided to believe rumor.” Jenn’s voice was quiet, the sound of a pure human voice shouting down a well compared to her mother. She tilted her head to the side, “Mark didn’t commit suicide did he?” It was out of character for the smug popular male but he had been so hurt, so destroyed that she never stopped to think about it when she first heard. “No, the foolish boy did not. You cannot have a true mate, you cannot be allowed to turn into what my mother was.” Almost negligently she raised the gun, aimed it at Rayn and pulled the trigger. With a deafening blast the gun went off as light surged around him, the scent of ozone flooded the room and a wail of pain rose to the timbered ceiling. 71

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Still charged from the storm, the lightning that rode his skin had snapped into a barrier, reversing the explosion with its own added kick. Rachel’s hands were bloody stumps with mangled meat clutched to her abdomen. Jenn ran sobbing towards her mother but changed direction and grabbed the phone. Ears still ringing and eyes blinking from the after images, Rayn stood confused, unsure what to do. Hours later, the two huddled together in a sterile hospital corridor lost in thought. Rachel had retrieved the revolver from Case’s collection, shot him in the head as he sat reading the financial news before leaving for Rayn’s home. In her purse was Jennifer’s birth certificate, listing another man as her father. It was tight against a man’s picture and another of a sneering older woman with pointed sharp features and icy silver hair. All it left Jenn with was questions and more questions. Her adoptive father had to have known something for her mother to have killed him. But what could he have known? Was anything she knew of her people or her ability true? Jenn felt like she was drifting on a small raft in a huge sea, bereft and alone, cold and lost. Rayn pulled her close, breathing deeply in her matted golden hair and suddenly she felt right. “My golden songbird,” she smiled at the endearment as he drew back. “I can’t offer you much beyond my heart, and my strength. You need answers, we’ll find them.” An idea that had been niggling at the back of his mind pushed to the front. “Jane called you cousin, she seemed to know you in a way no one else did. Maybe we can start there?” Ducking back under his chin and luxuriating in the heat of his body Jenn allowed herself a moment of contentment, of pure idle bliss before leaning back and facing her newly changed world. “That is a good idea, but knowing Jane she’ll want something in return. Nothing is ever free with her.” Almost imperceptibly Rayn tensed. “Not you. I will never share you with her again. I think she knows that.” A doctor in hospital scrubs and a white overcoat approached the couple and hesitated. He hated bad news of any kind. Saving the life of the Taylor woman didn’t account for much if the police reports were correct. If she really did kill her husband and attempted to kill her daughter and soon to be son-in-law, then there wasn’t much use in saving her life for the state to end it. 72

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“Ms. Taylor? I’m Dr. Montello, your mother is out of surgery and is stable, resting in the post-op theater before being moved to her room. Just to be sure she doesn’t have an adverse reaction to the medications injected during surgery. I’m very sorry.” His serious face was pinched and tired. Jenn smiled sadly at him, his duty wasn’t a pleasant one and she respected him for seeing it through. Nodding she agreed to be led to her mother’s room on another floor, the psychiatric ward. Rayn agreed to sit in the main waiting area while Jenn visited her mother. A trio of hospital workers manipulated the huge bed into the small room, hooking up monitors, arranging tubes and plastic bottles of fluid before finally using soft restraints to keep the patient’s limbs utterly immobile. What a shame it is, Jenn mused, that the orderlies couldn’t leash the woman’s only real weapon, her voice. No matter. It was something Jenn was more than willing to handle. She just had a few questions first. “Mother,” she nodded at the hollowed face glaring out of a mask of painkillers. “Would you mind answering some things for me?” Rachel lifted a lip in derision. “Grandmother was almost pure banshee, bean sidhe, wasn’t she?” Rachel turned and stared at the wall. “Yet you are almost pure Korrigan, with your beauty and lack of voice. That is why you never spoke, not out of fear of draining it, because the gift didn’t really exist.” Rachel continued to stare at the wall. “Is that why you killed my father?” That got a flinch and some mumblings. “What mother?” “I said I never meant to kill your father, she made him into her mirror. It was all her fault.” Rachel’s voice rasped out twisting with venom. “Yes, I am almost pure Korrigan, he was the get of the bean sidhe. She wasn’t my mother, just my mother in law.” “Why did you kill him?” Jenn felt the underpinnings of her world rock and loosen again. “All those lousy people were good for was singing old people to a sweet death; paid them huge amounts for it. Then there were those that called them death angels that hired the old bitch to avenge those wronged with the death wail.” Her chest heaved making the bandages on her stomach strain. “What was I for? I was their little pretty angel sitting there holding the hand of the dying so they didn’t get their own damned hands dirty. 73

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“You are my daughter.” Rachel’s voice turned petulant. “Not their newest tool, so I killed them both. Oh sure the old bitch knew it was coming, but I killed the dammed death angels.” Dry laughter rattled in her throat. “But…then, how is Jane my cousin?” “What?” Rachel’s head whipped forwards and lifted from the pillow. “She called me sister under the skin, then cousin, knew the importance of Rayn to me as a mate.” Jenn marveled at how calm she felt. “No.” Rachel’s voice sounded hollow. “She can’t…” The air tightened took on a texture as the older woman struggled to pull the remnants of her power around her. “You will--” “Silence!” Jenn’s own Voice cracked through the stale room and Rachel fell back against the pillow, her mouth moving frantically without sound. “I am sorry, momma. Really I am. But I can’t have you getting out of here and hurting me or Rayn again.” Tears welled in her eyes as she leaned over and kissed her mother’s forehead goodbye. Walking out of the room, Jenn nearly plowed into Rayn. He’d felt every pain as it hit Jenn and was on his way to her side when she ran from the room. “Sshh…don’t cry honey.” “I just want away from everything for a while.” “Okay darlin’ I promise.”

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Part Nine Coda

During the flurry of the days following, Rayn wished he was free to keep his promise. It was impossible for him to simply whisk Jenn away from the pain of arranging her father’s funeral or the confusion of dealing with her mother’s care. He alternated between holding her and making his own arrangements. It took the better part of three days for Rayn to put things in order to take his songbird away to a small cabin in Oregon after the funeral. When they got back, he reasoned, they could face the changes, perhaps search out the one person who may hold the answers. But in the meantime, he decided they would love one another. The night air was unusually humid from the small, scattered showers that dodged their footsteps home from the hospital. It seemed as if nature grieved alongside his golden bird. The spate of pattering rain had stopped just shy of midnight when he forced Jenn to finally take a mild sedative. She didn’t just have bags under her eyes she had a full set of alligator skinned luggage, he tucked a stray lock of hair away from her face looking at the bruise-colored skin under her eyes. Even with the sleeping pill her lithe form moved fitfully, her arms listlessly reaching, searching as her hands alternated between grabbing and pushing at him, the bedclothes and her pillow. Love isn’t always gentle, Rayn mourned as he stoked the contour of her back and hip through the thin sheet. She had avoided sleep for days. Even with the sedative grief found her again and sobs ripped through her body. Jenn woke from a dream where her dad led her small mare Cricket around the paddock. He had stopped midway through the figure-eight hunter’s hack circuit, gripped her jean, clad knee and wished her a good life. Curling up on her side, gripping her knees to her chest she struggled to find the words to tell Rayn. He was more than a dream lover, he was her strength, her rock. Now he seemed to melt around her shivering form. His 75

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hands seemed to be everywhere at once soothing, calming as his words flowed over her senses and sank into her mind. Rayn pondered the dream and its meaning. She might not understand the spirit’s way of saying goodbye, but her mind was trying to soften the blow of her loss. He held her tight, spooned her back, murmured words of comfort and waited for the pain to pass. When she relaxed slightly, he turned her to lay her head on his upper arm and hooking her legs over his. She got to keep her near fetal position but was now surrounded by his love, his warmth. “Rayn,” her voice was watery and hoarse, “the last words I had with my dad were angry. I-I lashed out at him.” She sniffled and turned her face against his shirt, and he smiled through the sudden heartrending memory of having held his sister Dawn the same way as she cried over the death of their father. “Shh…love, I know. Your dad only wanted to see you safe, to protect you.” His hands continued kneading delicately at the stiff muscles of Jenn’s spine as his mind tripped to an ugly thought. What if Case Taylor knew of his wife’s insane desire to dominate her daughter? What if he suspected that his wife had something to do with Mark Morrison’s death? Rachel herself had told Rayn how she was confused over the accusations from Mark’s mother. “He trusted you,” were the words Rachel had puzzled over. If it was apparent to Mark’s parents that Rachel played a roll in their son’s death, maybe Case learned of his wife’s involvement and remained silent out of his love for her. Laying his cheek on the top of Jenn’s head, Rayn conceded they may never know the truth. With Case dead and Rachel silenced, it didn’t look promising on the confession front. Then again, there was Jenn’s grandfather, Senator Carson Taylor, he had to know something. Rayn forced his thoughts back to the sad woman in his arms. “Your dad only wanted you to be safe and sound. He wasn’t thinking rationally when he picked that last fight.” He kissed the tousled hair at her brow. “Case was just thinking like a dad, wanting to keep his baby safe.” “But I wasn’t his baby, not really,” Jenn twisted the edge of his shirt in her fingers. Ah, he thought this might have been lurking in her heart. “Just because he didn’t make you, didn’t mean he didn’t love you as his daughter.” Lightly he tugged her chin up to look at her face. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks blotchy but she was still beautiful to him. Carefully, deliberately he 76

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kissed her tear sodden face making her eyes flutter. “He adopted you, taught you to ride a horse and a bicycle. Heck, I still remember when he was teaching you to swim and he could barely dogpaddle himself. You took to the water like a fish, but he was still proud as could be to stand in the muddy shallows and act as your diving board.” Jenn laughed, a choked sound but her body loosened in his arms. “Case was your daddy in everyway that really matters, never believe different.” “But why wouldn’t he listen when I told him I loved you?” “Heck darlin’ no man is ever good enough for a daddy’s little girl. A rich man is too busy making money and a poor man is too busy trying to make do.” Rayn smiled into her eyes, as she puzzled over his words. “But Mark--?” her brow furrowed in thought. “Oh sure, Mark was a fine young man from a fine family. Not too rich and not too poor. But he didn’t treat you right, did he? How did your dad react?” Jenn grimaced at the memory of her parents walking around the house on eggshells not wanting to cause her more pain by their anger at Mark. But that didn’t stop her dad from pounding the arms of his chair declaring, “You’ll have nothing more to do with that rat-bastard,” when the gossipy phone calls had started pouring in. “Now, no more beating yourself up Jenn.” He looked at the red lights of the bedside clock’s digital display, it was nearly dawn. "The funeral is in just a few hours, you’ll need your strength for that. Rest.” As she drowsed in his arms, Rayn felt his face tighten in anger as he replayed Carson Taylor’s nasty phone message in his mind. The stiff-necked prick had called, refusing to stay at the ranch with “a harlot and her fucktoy.” Thankfully Jenn hadn’t listened to the message. Rayn erased the vitriolic spew and lied. He baldly related that her grandfather was delayed and would arrive in the morning for the service and interment. It wasn’t his proudest moment, but he wanted to spare her as much pain for as long as possible. A small part of him wouldn’t let his lie rest, it kept whispering that the real reason he lied wasn’t to spare his lover but to protect his heart. That if Jenn saw him through her grandfather’s eyes she’d wake up to what little he had to offer and leave him high and dry. Half asleep Jenn sighed and turned, snuggling under his neck, threading her legs between and around his. “I love you Rayn,” she mumbled, as her pulse evened into the deeper rhythms of a deep sleep. 77

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“I love you too,” he repeated in the pregnant air, hoping she would still love him if it meant turning her back on the last member of her shrinking family. *** False dawn threaded gold and peach fingers through the midnight hued purple of the horizon. Around the pond reeds rustled under a soft breeze, as small peeper frogs chirruped and called to furtive mates to hurry for play before the heat of day returned. Here and there the surface of the water broke as fish surfaced, hungrily snapping at insets lured out by the lightened skies. The dome of the heavens arched overhead, clear and black dusted with pinpoints of light as vibrant as diamonds on rough velvet. Not all the points were the cold brilliance of white; there were shades of green, orange, pink and even a glacial blue winking at the small form sitting cross-legged on the dock. Starlight wasn’t enough to show the figure perched on the rough wooden planks. It is always darkest before the dawn. The adage was proven true as the dock was launched into a state of perfect inky black as the sky seemed to make the covered earth in its own mantle of shadowed night rather than give in to the inevitability of day. There has been darkness enough, Jenn decided as she moved to her feet in a preternaturally graceful motion. She allowed the weight of the dark to push against her mind, then her shoulders, on down to her arms as she raised her hands in supplication to the Lord of the Northlands. The moon slipped beneath the horizon to her left as she drew in breath, slowly, lightly allowing her lungs to fill. All stilled, silence pushing against her ears as she closed her mind to the mortal world. Behind her eyes another door opened, and her body beneath the virginal lace began to glow with blue-white purity. The light leeched into the roots of her hair, winnowing through the long tresses to splash light over the dock at her heels, turning the dark wood into a bleached grey landscape. It started small, a soft keening rush of wind over barren earth, the death song for Case Taylor. Gaining in strength it rippled on the night air, flowing like a river of sound from the font of womanhood staring into the abyss of faerie night, as it opened the door between at her summons. An impossible figure stood at the edge of the eddy pool of her sinuous liquid lyric. Blacker than night, darker than fear's razor edge, he rose above the surface of reality and moved forward on the quicksilver strands of the death wail made solid living air. Glints of light arced where legs and arms should have been, had He been a mortal man wearing an antique suit of armor. The air behind Him boiled a miasma of forms, gnashing teeth and glowing feral eyes of wolves of emotion flowing into dream78

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flesh reforming into fog reaching for human soil. The song rose into a crescendo of joy, love and pain, twisting as it readied for an unthinkable plunge. Her spine bowed under the weight as the dark Male closed in, looking first at her glowing form of mixing blues, whites and grays then at the braided thread her song condensed into as it reshaped into a glowing orange orb. The song warbled, bled out to its gurgling close as Jenn slumped forward at the feet of the waiting figure. She had no way of knowing that her open eyes were as palely luminescent as the inner layer of polished clamshell. The being looked down from the floating orb to be collected and smiled. In the light shed by her father’s life, He looked so terrifying, so beautiful. A wind from that other realm made his black hair ripple across skin, so dark as to defy identification with thick antlers rising from behind hidden ears to rise like a spectral crown, the tips nearly meeting over thick brows protecting eldritch purple eyes. He smiled, a travesty of the word such sadness was suspended in that small motion, as a steel gauntleted hand reached out and swallowed the brilliant gem-bright soul light. With an audible pop, darkness rushed in to fill the air where He and his retinue of ghost hounds had perched fever bright for a split-second of eternity. From the cover of the reeds Rayn watched in wonderment. His mother had told stories to her brood as they grew about the Great Spirit collecting home warriors to pass through the smoke of ceremonial fires to accompany Him to the hunting grounds of the next life. As a teenager he had grinned at the stories and wondered where the Christian God figured in, not to mention all the other death tales of the worlds’ varied cultures. Now he could see how all people could look upon one shifting, dark but bright visage and see Valhalla, the Summerland and more waiting in the mists just beyond the All Father as he harvested children to the next realm. It humbled him as it made his heart sing with joy. Slowly, he stood and walked the small length of dock to his angel sprawled on the splinter-laden surface. He needed no tempest to borrow energy to revive his love; his heart was a storm of redemption powerful enough to feed them both. Jenn felt warm hands lifting her, strong arms carrying her back to the house. Footsteps echoed in the barren vault of her mind. Inexorably memories floated to the surface, bubbling upward and unfurling in soft pastels then in shades of jewel tones. Opening her eyes she saw the soft peach and rose of the rising sun as the light caressed the dark sun-bronzed skin of her warrior lover. She saw him and saw beyond to the line of ancestors stretching back to the pueblos and mesas of his mother and the bloody 79

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battlefields of his father. On one side she saw the desert painted in shades of red and ochre to the other a grove of silvered trees and brilliant blue waters. Blinking at the disparity she was disappointed in losing the vision and pouted lightly as Rayn’s chiseled lips lifted in masculine appreciation before moving to cover her mouth. Laying on his side next to her, Rayn eased the diaphanous gown from her shoulders then reached down and eased the hem upward over her hips, sliding the gauzy gown over soft skin of knees and thighs raising gooseflesh and shudders in its wake. Closing her eyes she lost herself to a world of sensation. His skin felt hot enough to burn. She felt so cold. Rubbing against him, skin to skin ignited fires that almost reached inside where the chill formed a hidden ball behind her ribs. Jenn reached out, tracing the sharp angles of his face with the tips of her fingers. Playfully Rayn nipped at her fingers, sucking the tips and making her smile. His lips caught and held each finger as it tried to follow the outline of his chin. This time his teeth held longer, letting his tongue savor the taste of her, flicking the ends with small wet licks evoking the memory of his mouth on more sensitive areas. She moaned as the image of him kneeling between her tights raised in her mind, sampling a nipple, the tender underside of a breast, the hollows at her navel and at each hip before delving lower. In response, she slid a bare thigh over and up along his. The rough sound of her moan made Rayn wince as his hand found the soft skin of the back of her thigh. His fingers stroked the chilled silk of her leg, cupping the flesh of her bottom. He wanted to stay laying face to face, even if she couldn’t see him. When she had looked up as he laid her on the bed, all he saw was milky white. Blinking an edge of blue started surfacing. He intuited it would take time for her vision to return, no matter, he nuzzled her neck, she didn’t need to see only to feel. Jenn felt on edge, restless and she shifted trying to get closer to Rayn's heat. The arm under her head tensed as he gathered her hair, holding her head in place. Using the tip of his tongue he lightly laved her eyelids, feathering kisses over the wet caress. “Eyes closed my soul-singer,” he breathed in the outer shell of her ear, as his tongue skated the edge to the lobe scant seconds before his teeth nipped the soft skin. His mouth found the spot under her ear where her pulse raced. With lips and tongue he circled the spot, danced lightly across it, before biting lightly.

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Every pass of Rayn’s tongue speared lancets of heat dancing along her spine and lower. It was if he was stroking a path from neck to knees without ever moving. Without thinking she tried to rock her pelvis against his, but his other hand still cupped her ass. “Please…” she begged, without really knowing what it was she was begging for. More, she knew she wanted more, but not of what. When he bit down she felt the rough caress of arrow light heat lightning along her nerves all the way to her womb. Her sheath heated, wept, opening for his, wanting his length to fill her. “Rayn, please…” she begged again. Keeping a grip on her hair, he slipped his arm lower under her impatiently writhing form arching her over his arm, lifting her pelvis closer. His other hand lifted her leg, turning his attention to the long white expanse of flesh he dropped a kiss below the delicate bones of her ankle, savored the taste of the crease behind her knee before placing her leg against his chest. Slowly his fingers smoothed down the clean line of her leg. First the quivering flesh on the inside to just above her knee, then torturously he dragged his nails lightly along her skin from ankle to hip, allowing his fingers to brush lightly against her wet nether lips, slightly opened by her stance. The feel of his fingers almost stroking yet not fully touching her heated skin made Jenn cry out in want. Feverishly she tried to rock her flesh lower, to force him into rubbing her swollen sex. Levering against the leg underneath her side, Jenn pushed against his hand and a long finger teased her sliding between the folds of flesh, narrowly missing her clit as she tried to follow with jerky motions of her pelvis. A second finger entered her core, slipping in and making her go still as the long digit lightly rubbed the wet walls that greedily sucked trying to draw him in deeper. Rayn nearly lost it when he felt her inner muscles tighten against his finger. He stopped and savored the feeling before sliding in a second finger, widening her, readying her. He wanted her on the edge before he slid in. Using his thumb he pushed apart her slicked folds and rubbed the underside of her clit, teaching her to ride his hand to find her pace. He knew the moment she caught on, her body stilled then almost feverishly began working against his hand as evidence of her arousal flooded over his fingers. Jenn cried out when he moved his hand and chill air greeted her bare bottom. She felt so close, heat and need burned through her. The cold of earlier gone, bathed in the fires of desire he pulled from her skin. He shifted and she felt the thick tip of him pushing against her opening. She tensed, it felt so much bigger at this angle. 81

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Deftly Rayn slid his fingers on either side of the head of his penis, pushing open the skin, allowing the slicked walls direct contact. Slowly he pushed inside her tight heat, and withdrew. Corded muscles stood out on his back and neck as he held himself from simply rolling her onto her back and savagely thrusting the way his blood burned to do. Again he plumbed her depths dragging a thin cry from her throat, when he went to withdraw, she found the flesh of his arms with her fingers and dug in. On the last agonizingly slow thrust she felt the skin at her opening tugging painfully just before his shaft surged against a spot that caused sparks to dance behind her eyes. That, she had to have more of that! Clutching at his arms she tried to make him go faster, harder, to make the burn build, to take her. Cursing lightly Rayn rolled, her left leg held prisoner against his chest as he buried himself to the hilt in her wet sheath. Balancing on one knee he used the position of her hips to rub micro-thrusts against that deep spot, making her inner muscles fist around him, milking him. He burned from the top of his head to the soles of his feet he burned. Orgasms wracked her body, causing her to spasm deep and hard against Rayn again and again. She couldn’t catch her breath, the feeling was so overwhelming she wanted to keep moving to never let the feeling end but it swamped her and she fell under the waves of sharp light that started in her blood and exploded behind her eyes as she crashed in a symphony of feeling. Dropping his shoulder, Rayn slid Jenn’s shaking thigh down his body and pulled her against his heaving chest. “An eternity with you will never be enough,” he panted, kissing the side of her sweaty face. *** Bygone Days Funeral home was a bit of local color that few outside of Texas would understand. During the days of long, dry cattle drives the towering Victorian building sprang up from the dry earth. Not to tend to the needs of the dearly departed, but rather the more salient needs of men who’d been in the saddle for long dusty days. A small Asian woman managed to whore her way to independence during the construction of the transcontinental railroad discovered the unique location purely by accident. It was divine providence when the wagon Mei was taking to Louisiana from San Francisco broke a wheel on an innocent boulder. She and a number of other “ladies” sat stranded at that spot while the wagon master sent a rider ahead for help. Instead of simple help the youth brought back twenty rough riders. No more than two miles to the east was a small, 82

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devoutly Anglican town that formed an arena for cattle sales to businesses via the new railroad spur originally placed to serve the American Army. Not being a stupid woman Mei decided that the men of south Texas needed the kind of “curative arts” that she and her “friends” were versed in more than the men of Louisiana. She fancied that the mulattos and recently freed colored ladies filled the niche on the New Orleans market all too well. Fortune smiled on her plan, one of the women traveling with her retinue was newly widowed and qualified for a plot of ground under the Homesteaders Act. Naomi Watson went to town, applied for and won the necessary land grant and “Bygone Days” was born. The bright beauty and wonders of San Francisco left a decided mark on Mei, who firmly insisted that her new home be constructed in the colorful Victorian style. In the end Miss Mei had a four story painted-lady for her painted lady trade. Being one of the last whore houses to be put out of business, Mei’s descendant Wei Landry shifted her sights to a more lasting trade, that of catering to men’s needs after their boots were removed for the last time. Lien Xiang owed more of her Asian blood to her Chinese American father than to her distant ancestor Mei of no last name, but she bore an unusual likeness to the small painted picture of her penultimate grandmother hanging in the main lobby. Inscrutable and mysterious she greeted each person as they arrived, directing them to the appropriate salon to visit the dearly departed. Almond brown eyes weighed and measured but never let outsiders know her decisions. Dressed in a black brocade gown, she looked like a doll sculpted in porcelain perfection as her low dulcet tones addressed each person individually. The senator and his entourage were sent to repose in the gold room at the rear, the daughter and escort directed to the jade room to mingle with the fey MacInnes heir and entourage. Just thinking of that motley crew put a small wrinkle in Lien’s perfect alabaster skin. Given the irony of the evident revulsion, the silent watcher found great amusement in Lien’s pride in her equally base female ancestor. Strippers are even looked down upon by whores. He chuckled from his viewpoint just beyond the hall mirror. A woman bought and paid is still better than something that offers nothing more than a peep show and a promise. He hoped that there would be a mirror in the room with the cadaver. He hadn’t felt this alive in years. 83

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Upon seeing the hint of blonde hair, he felt his senses spinning, but this wasn’t the woman from his puppet’s dreams. One of them yes, but not the one he craved. The sloeeyed slut MacInnes threw was a nice surprise. Perhaps if his creature couldn’t serve up the soul-singer, that one could be delivered instead. Avidly he watched as the graceful Chinese woman stiffened and bowed low from the waist greeting a latecomer. From his vantage point the door could not be seen, not unless he wanted to risk being directed away from the building again. The Chinese were adept at keeping his kind from their homes, but in serving so many ignorant “round-eyes” the art had been compromised as looking glasses were installed in almost every room. The youthful form remained bowed low, her eyes respectfully averted even after unbending her limber frame. Who could this be? He leaned closer and cursed viciously at the sight of the dark clad form staring intently at his glass from the edge of the doorway. “Breath on the Mirror,” the newcomer gasped in shock. He had felt watchful eyes scanning the room, but he never expected to see the shifting shadows and mist occluding the corner of the vast antique saloon backdrop hung against the far wall. Ignoring the bowing girl, he strode over to the mirror as the mist seemed to evaporate. Moving to see what her most august guest was searching for Lien made the mistake of moving too close, of not keeping a respectful distance. Savagely he turned on her. “You must see that all of the mirrors in the salons are covered before the services begin.” Lien bowed deeply again, backing away as she tried to assure this man that his bidding would be done immediately. “Now, now, brown cow,” chided a warm voice. He felt his groin tighten at the sound and forced himself to focus on the underlying lash of hate edging Jane’s seductive tones. “Don’t mettle sug, this isn’t our party. Come and meet the guests of dishonor.” Her ripe lips quirked into a sneer, as a languid hand directed him past to the loosely appointed Jade Room. Rayn hovered protectively over Jenn where she was perched in a delicately built chair. She didn’t seem to notice the room, the people or the fact that she had been separated from her family, barred from her father’s coffin. She simply sat staring bemusedly out the small octagon window. The window looked more like a porthole and its beveled panes of glass held by traceries of lead solder splintered the light entering the room into shifting shards that played over people and the walls like a frustrated disco ball. 84

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Tony and Alexi swept into the room and stopped, looking uncertainly at Jenn then Rayn. Smiling tightly he welcomed his friends, shaking hands and making quiet small talk while Jenn stayed staring out the window into the clear blue sky. He didn’t notice Jane entering the room until the nubile heiress stood before Jenn, staring intently. He didn’t hear whatever it was that drew Jane from Jenn but Rayn silently offered thanks that she left as he moved to resume his position behind Jenn’s chair. There was a small flurry of activity in the entry and a cadaverous looking man in a cheap suit hastened to hang a shroud over the tarnished mirror above the mantle. Rayn was more surprised when the employee bowed his way from the room, offering apologies to a man entering ahead of Jane. It rankled that the funeral service deferred to everyone and their pet monkey ahead of Case Taylor’s grieving daughter. He was of a mind to start setting things right, starting with the thin built man heading his way when he felt cool fingers grip his wrist. “Not now Rayn, please,” Jenn smiled at the thunderous expression on Rayn’s face. “None of this matters, you of all people should know that after this morning.” Absently he smiled, but his eyes never left the face of the man at Jane’s side. There was something odd about the way he moved, it was as if he walked in two worlds at once. “Jane,” Jenn smiled at her former roommate and moved forward drawing the slightly smaller woman into a tight hug. “I am so sorry that I didn’t make it to your father’s funeral.” Guilt played on her pain tearing her up inside. After all the time she had spent with Jane, she should have ignored her parents and at least called. Jane may not have had the best relationship with her father, but Jenn knew they were the lone remnants of their families. “No matter sug, you caught the main act. The rest of the show was anticlimactic.” Jane chuckled lightly, but the pinched skin around her eyes belied her words. “Pardon my lack of manners, I forgot to introduce my daddy’s heir.” Turning she cut a sharp look at the man standing at her shoulder, “Mr. Dagon Kortlandt.” “I-I don’t understand Jane.” Jenn’s head bobbled back in forth in shock, “what do you mean by heir? Your dad groomed you to take his place.” “All water under the bridge now sweet pea, Dagon here is Big Man on Campus, not li’l ol’ me.” The sugary words ground through the sweet smile pelting the still silent man. “But it don’t matter none. As you can see I’m not reduced to wearing sackcloth and ashes, I was given a trust fund and the apartment over Satin Knights.” 85

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Rayn winced, no wonder Jane had moved with such alacrity in having Hump and Pee Wee pack his stuff up. Where were the rest of the guys staying? As if reading his mind Jane replied. “They are staying with me.” The light banter dropped as her voice dead panned. “All of the men of Stain Knights are welcome to remain at the apartment. I was granted the second floor and it is mine.” Rayn nodded. The second floor had consisted of the small, three bedroom apartment with a community kitchen-living-dining-space. The bathroom was at the other end of the hall past the warren of private party rooms. If she had dominion over those rooms there would be enough living space to accommodate all of the dancers. “But, I don’t understand.” Jenn’s voice was small and lost. “Who is this man?” Stepping forward Dagon made as if to take Jenn’s hand but Rayn cut him off. “You can answer her question without touching her,” he nearly growled as the other man made to move around him. There was something off, something other about this Dagon Kortlandt that brought out all of Rayn’s protective instincts. “As you wish,” his voice was unremarkable but for the clarity and the light English accent, giving his words a cultured air. “Mr. MacInnes was my business partner. Given his proclivities,” Dagon’s face wrinkled up in disgust, “I asked early on that my portion be that of a silent partner.” Turning again to Jenn, he bowed lightly. “Allow me to offer my condolences on your loss. I wasn’t acquainted with your father, but rather your grandfather. This will be a difficult time, I am sure.” “Then you are wrong,” Rayn shivered at the steel in Jenn’s voice. She was using her voice to push the man away from her, to cause him the discomfort he was clearly causing Jane. It surprised Rayn that Jenn had forgiven Jane for her catty behavior and for the sexual relationship they had shared. Dagon’s eyes flared as the words hit him with actual force. He narrowed his eyes and made to move closer but again Rayn intervened, herding him away from the women. At that moment Lien sounded a small chime at the doorway. “Excuse please, most honored guests of the departed Case Taylor, the procession is readying to leave for the Taylor Family Cemetery.” She turned and gestured them from the room, “If you will please find your cars, they have been placed in line.” Walking from the room gave Rayn a chance to observe the people milling about. Just ahead of the people leaving the Jade Salon was the Senator, a minister and a number 86

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of bodyguards filing towards the stained glass French doors at the entrance. Carson Taylor didn’t spare a glance at his granddaughter but did clasp the hand of Dagon Kortlandt, clasping the younger man on the back like a long lost friend. Interesting, Rayn noted. Not only had Carson excluded his granddaughter from seeing her father one last time, but he cut her off from the services and greeted this new man like a good friend. Tony and Alexi had positioned themselves on either side of Jane in a clearly protective gesture. The pair looked to Rayn in confusion. Shaking his head he took Jenn’s elbow. He’d be damned if he could understand what was going on either. Almost forty minutes later the small group stood arrayed in a semi-circle around a hole in the sandy earth. The reverend had intoned a few verses from the Bible. When the man faltered and repeated a poem he had recited at the beginning of his graveside service, Rayn recognized that the older man was thrown. No one had told the genial minister that Case had a daughter let alone a daughter that was made to sit in another room at the funeral and excluded from the lead car in the motorcade. In fact Jenn’s dark Lexus had been placed next to last in line, behind the senator, his bodyguards and Dagon Kortlandt. The reverend’s kindly grey eyes tried to seek out Jenn’s blue ones a number of times but once more she stared into the clear expanse of blue above. When the older man asked if any one else had anything to say, Jenn smiled lightly and shook her head. It was clear the reverend was trying to offer some solace in giving the neglected young woman a role in saying goodbye to her father. The service concluded and a bodyguard herded the minister to his car, presenting the man with an envelope. The guard hovered at the door of the small Chevy until the reverend put the car in gear and moved towards the road. The cemetery was a small family affair a little over an acre in size. It was poor farming ground that had been given a different garden chore. Situated on the southern end of the Taylor ranch it was rocky and sparsely dotted with hardy gorse brush. Senator Carson Taylor shook hands with Dagon and moved towards the spot where Jenn and Jane stood between the rows holding hands, talking. He looked like an older haggard version of his son. Hair a solid iron grey, his face a warm map of wrinkles from spending years working in the sun, his usual smile was absent, hidden behind a blank main. “Jennifer,” he gravely intoned, “I’d like you to meet my attorney Dagon Kortlandt.” 87

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“No need grandfather,” she tried to smile but it fell into a grimace. It was so wrong to stand over the bones of the dead and talk about the division of their earthly goods. “As for that,” he harrumphed, clasping his hands behind his back. “You should know by now that you are no kin of mine, regardless that my son signed the papers adopting you.” Jenn blinked in astonishment. It was one thing to find the papers and learn the truth, it was another to have it thrown in her face. “You will never call me grandfather again. Henceforth you are barred from claiming any form of familial bond.” Jaw slack in shock, she couldn’t find the energy to move her head. “But-but, I thought you loved me?” She hated that her voice was so small and weak in front of her grandfather’s smirking people. “No. Your mother and I had an arrangement. She provided ad material for my election campaigns and in return was allowed to marry my silly besotted son. The ranch was their wedding gift, to be left to their children. But the little bitch never gave him an heir. No, she made him adopt you as his own.” Jenn snapped her jaws together as the venom from his voice seeped in. “Well little missy, the party is over. The ranch is mine. My son knew the value of heritage, of blood. You are nothing. Go live in sin with your half-breed gigolo and the MacInnes whore. I’ve drafted a press release detailing your true sordid past including notes on the trash gypsy family you came from.” That said, the elder Taylor nodded at Rayn and turned away heading for the limousine. Jenn choked. She had felt something coming, something bad, but never expected such harsh rejection. “Miss Taylor?” The smooth cultured tones of Dagon Kortlandt interrupted her thoughts. Opening her eyes she lashed out. “No, not Taylor, not anymore. I am going to take my grandmother’s name Korrigan.” With pleasure she watched the sharp features wince as if under a blow. “What do you want?” She felt so cold inside that she couldn’t control it from leaking into her words and the last carried from her mouth in a haze of condensation. “No matter what you think, I am not your enemy.” That wasn’t what she expected to hear but it made no difference. “The livestock was moved this morning from the Taylor ranch to the DeSantis. It was your father’s hope to leave you something, the horses and cattle are yours.” “What solace is that?” she sneered in contempt. A small part of her was happy, it would make life easier on Rayn and his family who must surely have moved to the ranch 88

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house this morning as well. Turning to Jane, Jenn reached out and clasped the other woman’s hands. “I need time, space just for a few days maybe a week. When we return…I…that is to say we,” she smiled sadly at Rayn, “will take you up on your offer.” “What offer?” Dagon’s voice turned hard, sharp. Jane smiled a syrupy sweet smile of victory over the enemy at her side. “Never you mind sug, it’s between my “cousin” and me,” she purred. Rayn wondered for a tense moment if the man had an idea of what Jane wanted to do, where she wanted to go to have her inheritance restored, the beast she meant to confront at the heart of The Retreat. Looking into the sudden pinched white features across from him, he had a feeling that Kortlandt knew only too well. Steering Jenn to the car and to their new home, Rayn hoped that the small vacation he planned at the cabin he secured in Oregon would be enough to bolster them for what must lay ahead. No matter, he shook his head as he leaned across the car’s center console and kissed the sweet lips of the woman he loved. It made no difference so long as they loved. She smiled and her bruised blue eyes lit as if ignited, yes, love would be enough. He hoped.

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Melissa Glisan

About the Author

Clutching a bowl of popcorn, wide-eyed and fixated on Chiller Theater and Terminal Stare at the age of five, Melissa knew that horror and cleavage were inexplicably bound, today she lives it. When she isn’t pecking at the keyboard she enjoys maintaining the family graveyard, swamp hikes and lurking in the hills of Southern Pennsylvania.

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