Dream Lover Read online

  I moaned and the center of my back sank to raise my ass higher. “Don’t play. I swear I’m ready.”

  His laughter was low and sexy, but he must have been just as ready, just as tense. He fit the tip of cock to my entrance, dug his fingers into my ass, and slammed forward.

  Air gusted from me in a feminine grunt, and I braced my hands to push back and meet his thrusts. Ten years, not to have known this pleasure. Ten years since I’d even felt desire. He’d awoken my sensuality with just the sight of him, and I hadn’t realized how significant, how rare that was for me.

  He hammered faster, shortening his strokes.

  I widened my knees, trying to tilt just a little more to give his balls space to slap. My arousal was growing, tightening, but I wouldn’t be with him at the end without just a little more sensation.

  He slowed, circling his hips, screwing in and out of me, and then reached around to slide a fingertip over my distended clit. I mewled my pleasure, my body beginning to writhe, hips undulating slowly.

  “Despy,” he whispered, voice tightening.

  “Yes, please, oh, please…”

  He ground deeper, his finger rasping my clit and I came again, howling like a stormy wind and releasing him to power into me and finish himself off.

  I collapsed beneath him.

  He snuggled against my back, his chest billowing. “Tell me if you can’t breathe.” He shifted again, taking some of his weight off me and slipping an arm beneath me to cuddle me closer. “Sleep.”

  My eyes were already drifting downward and I was pulled into a deep dreamless sleep, where it was enough to feel his warm skin against my back and his breath feathering my cheek.

  I sat at my kitchen table, my laptop open, tapping at the keys when he strode nude through the cabin door without knocking.

  “Where have you been?” I asked, feeling foolish because his skin was slick, long rivulets dripping down his body from his dark hair.

  He raised a mocking brow.

  “There are towels in the bathroom. Dry off.”

  “Of course.” But he didn’t head down the hallway, he sauntered toward me.

  I shoved my laptop away at the last moment, because he leaned over me and squeezed his hair, letting the water drip over the tops of my knees. Everywhere the salty water splashed bluish scales were revealed on my skin, and I hurriedly dried them with my hands. “Why did you do that?”

  He grinned. “Just to make sure I had the right girl.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I haven’t changed that much.”

  “You have legs.”

  I laughed at how his nose wrinkled in disgust. “You get used to it. Didn’t you enjoy the sex? And tell me you haven’t donned legs before to seduce women. It’s so much easier for you. All you have to do is raise your waist above the water and you’re a man. I’d flop like a fish on the ground if the water even touched my skin.”

  He grunted, and then amusement faded from his expression. “That’s the difference between a mermaid and man. We have greater opportunities to find lovers.” He held out his hand. “Come out to the balcony with me while the air dries my skin. I need to tell you something.”

  His expression closed, frightening me. Even though we’d only just reconnected and so much time had passed, my heart didn’t recognize the distance that should be between us.

  Outside, he leaned his butt against the balcony. “I lied when I intimated your father had sent me. I sought you out for myself.”

  “Why lie about it?” I asked carefully, because part of me always waited for betrayal.

  “If you didn’t feel anything for me, I didn’t want you feeling uncomfortable.”

  “Thanasius, why now? It’s been so long.”

  “It was a mistake, not loving you before you left. But you were already battling your father for independence. I didn’t want to add another complication. I never thought you’d wipe away your whole life to thwart him.”

  “Seems a little drastic now, doesn’t it? I was pretty angry. He didn’t approve of you.”

  “Your father worried that I was a pawn in my father’s war. When he discovered your mother used a spell to put you on dry land permanently, he was satisfied I’d never be his son-in-law.”

  We’d planned to marry. I remembered now—and wished I hadn’t because the pain of the breakup was fresh. “Why did you wait until now to find me?”

  “Your mother wasn’t very forthcoming.”

  “I swore her to secrecy.”

  “And she does love hiding her daughters from their suitors.”

  “Why now?” I repeated.

  “Your father is pushing mine into deep waters. This is my last chance to be with you.”

  “Your father is Nereus,” I whispered, remembering that Nereus had been the one to propose the marriage that had so infuriated my father. “I won’t be used against him for your father’s sake, even though he had first claim to the oceans. I don’t get along with Poseidon, but I won’t stand against him.”

  “I don’t want you to choose between us, only for you to choose to be with me.”

  My heartbeat quickened. “Why is it important for me to choose you?”

  The muscle alongside his jaw flexed, and his glance fell away.

  “Stubborn as always,” I muttered. “If you’d just bent a little, given me a clue about how you felt, I might not have run so far.” He remained inflexible, his neck unbent.

  I took a deep breath. “Why do you think I sought refuge on land? Yesterday, you saw how I miss the softness of the water. The ease of movement. Hell, I still feel the jolt every time I take a step.”

  “Then why live here?” he asked, his voice raspy.

  “Because here I’m free. My life isn’t preordained.”

  “You won’t come back, will you?” he said, his voice bleak. “Not to my father’s realm? Not even to your own?”

  “As much as I miss it, I can’t go back.”

  His gaze broke with mine and scanned over the stormy sea. “Do you think he knows I’m here?”

  “I’d bet his triton he has someone watching. Maybe it’s not such a good idea for you to swim again while you’re with me.”

  “If what you say is true, he let me come through his waters. He didn’t stop me from returning again today.”

  “That’s not exactly his blessing.”

  “No, he hesitates, waiting to see whether I will hurt you.”

  “That’ll happen anyway when we say good-bye.”

  Thanasius reached for my hand and threaded his fingers through mine. “Would you like a companion? I will stay with you.”

  I tried to pull away my hand, but he held firm. “Why would you give up what you are?”

  “Once I heard what you’d done, giving up your tail, I was curious. I didn’t know how you could live so long out of the water without being tempted to even touch it.”

  “It was part of the spell. I lost my memory and didn’t need to wet my tail, ever—but she built in the fear so that I wouldn’t transform and be confused.”

  “She’s clever, your mother. And Demeter’s forever standing between the brothers and what they want most. This amused her.”

  “However much she might like tweaking my father’s nose, she’s still my mother. Why would she help you find me?”

  “I convinced her I wanted to walk by your side. That if it was your wish, I’d never return to my kingdom.”

  A painful tightness lodged inside my chest. “But why would you do that? You hadn’t seen me in ten years.”

  “I wasn’t sure I’d feel the same. So I watched you. I saw the yearning, and recognized it for the same feeling that stirs inside me. Poseidon usurped my father’s kingdom, but the longer he held it, the less I wanted it back. I’m…unfettered. My future my own.”

  I smiled, recognizing a kindred heart in my first and only love. On impulse, I leaned toward him and gave him a kiss. “I’ll teach you to walk on two legs.”

  “I can walk. Didn’t I climb
that cliff?” He kissed my fingers. “But I would let you guide me in this new life, if you will share the journey.”

  A lifetime of loneliness melted away in the beauty of his smile.

  DEVIL’S FOOD

  Shanna Germain

  The man had come in so quietly she would never have known he was there if not for Margipe, the talking toad who sat by the bakery door and announced her incoming customers. The toad was supposed to say “Hello!” or “Welcome!” but his responses depended on his mood. The locals loved him—thought he was a riot—but strangers and travelers weren’t as thrilled. Lire hadn’t hired Margipe, but she couldn’t seem to get rid of him either. All she could do was beg him to be polite. Sometimes it worked.

  This time, he’d croaked, “Ooh, big man! Big man! Big, big, big man!” and then burped in excitement, the sound so loud that Lire had banged her head on the glass pastry case.

  “I’m so sorry about that,” she said, as she came up from her bent-over position, rubbing the side of head.

  “Well, I am a big man.” The man’s voice, layered with a hint of tease, wasn’t quite bass, not that deep. Baritone, is that what they called it? Rich and resonating without sounding like it was forced.

  Lire had owned Devil’s Food for six years, and while she’d seen a lot of angels and devils—both the human and not-quite-human kind—and even gotten pretty used to their odd comings and goings, this was her first glimpse of something like the guy standing in front of her. He wasn’t human, that much was clear, although she couldn’t have said how she knew it. Something about the way his body moved through the air, even when he was standing still. It wasn’t a shiver so much as a hum, a visible vibration that shook his edges like a song.

  Still, a customer was a customer. If living in Hellsedge had taught her anything, it was that you didn’t discriminate. People—and even nonpeople—were still, well, people. And this people? He was stunning, that was one thing. He had shoulderlength dark hair that fell in soft waves along the collar of his shirt, equally dark eyes, so dark you couldn’t tell where his pupils ended. Dressed in a simple navy T-shirt and worn jeans, he somehow looked like the outfit had been made for him, fitting just right over his wide shoulders and chest, down to the slimness of his hips.

  Lire shook her head, shutting up the odd, singsongy way her brain was responding to her newest customer. “Well, welcome to Devil’s Food!” And...she sounded like a total idiot. A total idiot high on sugar. No wonder she was single.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Most people walked in and looked straightaway at the bakery case, eyeing the cookies and cakes, the fruit breads and glazed rolls. They bent down, tapping the glass as though the goodies might swim their way. But his gaze stayed on her face and his hands stayed tucked into his jean pockets. He regarded her silently for a long moment, and Lire couldn’t tell if the hum coming from him was something she heard or felt. Or maybe it was both.

  “You’re not like the rest, are you?” she blurted, all too aware of the silence and of his stare—and then of the way the words had come out of her mouth, breaking the air. Something was making her face hot, and while she wanted to blame the ovens, she knew they were too far away to be affecting her this way.

  “The rest?”

  “Angels. Devils. Demons.” Lire shrugged as she talked. There was a time in her life when she would have laughed at the very concept of otherworld creatures. Now she knew better—some of her best customers were otherworlds, some of her best friends too—and the words rolled off her tongue without a second thought.

  “I’m, no, not any of those things.”

  “Dragonkin?” Lire asked. She’d never seen one but had heard of them. This man didn’t have the right eyes—she’d heard they were golden with squarish pupils, the Dragonkins’ one true giveaway when they were in human form. But that could have been a rumor. Or maybe he was wearing contacts.

  The man raised one dark eyebrow. His aura or energy or whatever you wanted to call it, shimmered slightly and Lire got the idea he was trying very hard not to laugh. “Have you ever seen Dragonkin, Sugarspinner?”

  Lire ignored the way her ears and cheeks got hotter at his tone and at the teasing endearment thrown at the end of his question.

  “No,” she said. She was beginning to wish she’d gone to lunch right about this time or headed into the big town for supplies. It was a slow day, and Kelly could have watched the shop for her and…

  The man continued, settling one hand on the counter between them, his nearness shutting off Lire’s train of thought. “That is obvious, because if you had ever seen one, you would know for certain that I am not one of the…”

  He said a word at the end, the tongue strange and singing, a word that she didn’t know or even recognize, but the sound of it made her ears ring for a second.

  Lire was curious as to what he was, but knew it wouldn’t be polite to ask any further; he hadn’t answered her question, which meant that he didn’t want to. She could have asked three times—it wasn’t just genies that were bound by the Truth of Threes—but that was considered something beyond impolite. Nearly criminal, if used for nothing more than your own curiosity. “Well, then, Mr. Not Dragonkin nor Demon. What can I get for you?”

  “Something sweet,” he said.

  She had to laugh. “It’s a bakery. Everything’s sweet.”

  “Sweetest thing you have.”

  Lire had a funny comeback in her mind, but it never reached her tongue. The man’s hand was reaching out, touching the side of her cheek, his skin cool against the flush of her face. She felt the vibration of him in her bones. It was strong, but not unpleasant, sort of like if she’d held her favorite vibrator up to her face. It was easy to imagine what that hand would feel like between her thighs, the way it would hum against her skin.

  He leaned in, and she swore she could actually feel the neurons in her brain popping as his face got close to hers. It was cliché and sad and kind of stupid, but she really wanted him to kiss her, to feel the heat of his lips against hers. She’d been tastetesting Angel Wings all morning, so she knew what her mouth would taste of—cinnamon and sugar, sweet dough and butter. Now would be the perfect time.

  But as his face got closer, his eyes changed, flaring once then fading to yellow. The hum of him was growing louder, and Lire was pretty sure that it was something she both felt and heard this time. She thought he swayed a little, but it was hard to tell. She was feeling a little rocky on her feet herself. Not to mention a little stupid. Sweet kiss, my ass.

  “Okay,” she said, her voice professional. “Cupid Cookies or Sinfully Del—?”

  “Both,” he said, his voice losing some of its richness as he cut her off. “Now, please.”

  Lire bit her tongue against the response that swelled in her mouth and bent down to get the pastries.

  “Big man down! Big man down!” Margipe croaked. And when Lire looked up, there was only a blank space in front of her, and an odd stillness in her bones.

  At first she thought he’d left, but when she leaned over the counter, she realized he’d just fallen. He lay flat on his back, sprawled across her bakery floor. Margipe was hopping on the man’s stomach, yelling “Down! Man down! Downed man!” incessantly. It was only when Lire leaned over him and heard the man whisper, “Get it off,” that she realized he wasn’t dead.

  Now she was on her knees next to the man—the thing, the non-Dragonkin, whatever he was—who was half-sitting up, eating the second Cupid Cookie she’d offered him, shoving it into his mouth. The hum was returning, as was his color and alertness. Her body offered a matching hum in return, a low-key but steadily rising throb that started somewhere between her chest and her knees.

  “Want to talk about what just happened?” Lire asked.

  “It’s like…hmm, like human diabetes,” he said between bites. “Lack of sugar.”

  Now that the color in his skin was returning, so was the intensity of his eyes. Lire found it hard to look at him.
>
  Margipe, apparently nonplussed, had gone back to guarding the door, which at the moment meant he was sticking his long tongue to the window, letting it slide down with a squeak.

  “Shall I call someone for you?” Lire asked.

  He stuffed the last of the cookie into his mouth and then turned to Lire, his hand sliding around the back of her neck. His touch was somehow both gentle and incredibly strong. He pulled himself toward her, pushing his lips against hers, his mouth tasting of her own cookies and something entirely new, honey and foreign spices. She felt like she was being lifted, as though the floor, the bakery, the world had disappeared and she was nothing more than a soft flutter on someone’s breath.

  He let her go and everything slid back, making her dizzy.

  “What are you?”

  “I’m Thadeous. Fairy-kin if you will. Pleased to make your floor’s acquaintance. And yours as well, of course. Not so much with the bouncing frog-thing.”

  “Yeah, I get that a lot,” Lire muttered.

  It took a second for the rest of his words to sink in. “Wait. You’re fairy? Fey?” Now it was Lire’s turn to stifle a laugh. Surely he couldn’t be serious. She’d seen fairies, of course—her garden was full of them in the summer, as was her bakery in the winter, when it got too cold for them to be outside. They were tiny, small enough to slip through door cracks and sit on the handle of her spoons, light and clumsy enough to nearly drown in batter if she didn’t watch them closely.

  This man who’d kissed her couldn’t be fairy. Or if he was, he certainly wasn’t of the same ilk. Talk about different genetic structures.

  His eyes studied her face for a moment and then he laughed, that baritone edge back in his voice. Then, mimicking her voice almost perfectly, he said, “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

  She didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed that her response was so obvious on her face or to give in to the delightful shiver that slipped through her at the sound of his laugh. As she discovered, she could do both at the same time.

  “But, how did you get so…?”

  “Big?” There were so many meanings and entendres in his voice that Lire just wanted to nod a million ways to Sunday.