BULL: MC ROMANCE (Forsaken Riders MC Romance Book 6) (178 page)

3.

By the time she had reached the apartment her heart was light and the events of the previous evening were almost forgotten. Having a good gossip with an old friend had been just what she needed.

Steve was home before her and had already started preparing dinner for them both. He was obviously trying to make amends for earlier and it was a rare treat for her. He had bought flowers too, pink roses. Steve never bought her flowers; something was certainly bothering him but she would think about that at another time. For now she would enjoy the moment.

Soon she was sat at the table in front of a good crisp green salad and a rare steak, just the way she liked it, with a glass of very expensive red wine. He was certainly pushing the boat out.

“So how have you been this afternoon, did you go and see Kate?”

Andrea had almost forgotten about the blood tests. It would be silly to give him false hopes, or fears in his case, about a possible pregnancy. Anyway it was a ridiculous notion.

She smiled “I feel a lot better thanks. I went to see Kate, nothing wrong that a good night’s rest won’t fix”.

“About last night Andrea” He sounded as if he were about to apologize for something, but she raised her glass in a toast to stop him speaking.

“Here’s to your success Steve, you’ve worked hard for it”

The papers had been full of praise for the opening night of Steve’s exhibition and the evening was for celebrating and not for fighting. The wine relaxed her and she felt herself for the first time in weeks. As the bottle emptied, her head grew lighter and the conversation between her and Steve started to flow again. Perhaps she had been wrong after all?

The meal was soon over and they took their glasses over to the couch with a fresh bottle to relax. Steve was soon nuzzling into her neck; it had been a long time. The relationship had mainly been built on sex, but it was the hot and passionate type rather than the slow and loving kind and soon she could feel her passion start to rise. He knew what made her tick, he may have had his faults but he definitely knew how to please her. No-one could call him loving but Steve was certainly a man of passion. His hands were soon on her breasts and squeezing hard, the soft flesh yielding under the material of her shirt, her nipples hard and erect. She moaned as a quiver of pleasure rippled through her body. Her head was already half reeling from the heaviness of the good wine and Andrea closed her eyes to focus on her mounting excitement.

His fingers were soon ripping away at her blouse; once his passion was roused he didn’t like to let the mere detail of clothing get in the way. Naked to the waist she writhed under his touch, his fingers now unbuttoning her jeans and pushing them down her legs until she was only wearing her panties. She could feel the wetness between her legs as his fingers slid beneath the flimsy material to finger her moist cunt.

“You fucking bitch, you’re gagging for me”, Steve’s passion always made his language foul, but that had always been part of the excitement for her, she had never been with anyone so physical before. Yet now, somehow it sounded different, harsh, and some of her passion started to diffuse. He had soon undressed and his cock was hard and erect. That had been part of it too, Steve had one of the biggest cocks she had ever seen, that had ever been inside her anyhow. Some of her past boyfriends she had hardly felt enter her and she had faked every orgasm. Not so with Steve, she felt every bump and grind of his rod as he thrust inside of her. His eyes were like slits as she looked at his face, his sex face she called it, the pent up desire waiting behind his eyes, heavy with longing. He could hardly wait to be inside of her and pushed the head of his cock into the entrance of the fleshy folds of her pussy.

“Fucking bitch”, he pushed his length into her and moaned with pleasure and she could feel herself recoil slightly, almost repulsed. Andrea closed her eyes and tried to get back into the mood. What was wrong with her? Up to a moment ago she had been eager for this man to enter her, now she wanted to push him away. Opening her eyes she looked up at him, hoping that the old feelings would come back. The face wasn’t Steve’s, it was a lover from another time, the handsome and rugged man of her dreams; it was Alex MacDonald’s face she saw, the man she had almost forgotten, the man she loved. The memories came flooding back and she fought back the tears as she remembered his gentle love making, their nights of passion alone in the strange room of her dreams. Her heart ached with the memories, but they were not her memories, just her imaginings –what else could they be? The more Steve thrust away inside her, the more she felt the hatred for him rise up inside her, and all the time the face of Alexhander MacDonald was in front of her.

She was relieved when, with a final jerk, he came, the lust rushing from him as the semen dripped out of her ravaged pussy to wet the inside of her thighs. His body flopped like a dead weight on top of her and for a moment she felt sullied, and something almost akin to disgust for this man who almost felt like a stranger.

Within a minute he was breathing heavily, almost snoring as he fell into a deep snooze, his weight almost crushing her.

Easing out from under him, she quietly made her way to the bathroom to clean herself in the shower. It was ridiculous but she wanted the stench and sweat of this man away from her. Once the bathroom door was closed she broke down, sitting on the floor and weeping. What on earth was happening to her? Yesterday she had been jealous of another woman making advances towards Steve and today she loathed him, after such a promising night. He hadn’t done anything wrong, Steve had just been, well Steve. It was her; it was all in her head. She was in love with a man she could barely remember, someone who was surely a figment of her imagination, she was going mad.

Once her tears had dried she showered for the second time that day. It was good to feel clean again. Steve would probably sleep until morning, so she could go to bed alone. Kate would be ringing her tomorrow with the results of the blood tests, it would give her an opportunity to explain all of these confusing thoughts and feelings. Maybe there was something wrong after all?

Slipping on her dressing gown she moved into the kitchen and started to clear the table; one of her pet hates was waking in the morning to last night’s dirty dishes. As she cleared away she noticed a brochure on the work bench; the new exhibition Steve had been working on with Helen.
‘Runes and Relics - Man and Myth’
–the title jumped out at her as she opened the pages. There was a picture of Helen on the inside cover and Andrea shivered as the cold and lifeless eyes looked back at her. The woman was like a lizard, she didn’t seem human and there was something startling and familiar about her face. She had felt the same yesterday evening in the gallery.

She slowly read the blurb. The exhibition was travelling around the world and it was a collection of ancient artefacts, art and objects from the dark medieval period of history. The catalogue showcased a few of the more rare and interesting objects. Ancient religious paintings and statues carved out of the finest stone. There were illustrated manuscripts dating back to the time of St Bede and Columba, Andrea was tired and was just about to close the brochure when one of the photographs caught her eye.
‘The Runes of Argyll – an ancient mystery’.

It was the picture of an ancient rune,
‘as old as time’
the poetic language of the publicity material read. The last remaining rune of Argyll; Norse legend has it that the God Odin forged 2 runes that were blessed with the secrets of the Gods. Any man possessing one of them would have the power of immortality at his fingertips, like the very God’s themselves. Andrea dropped the brochure onto the floor. She had seen this rune before; there was one just like it sat inside a drawer in her bedside table.

Andrea sat for a moment on a stool by the work bench, trying to make sense of the strange happenings over the last two weeks. Her grandmother had died and left her the Rune, her last request had been that Andrea take the Rune to the Isle of Iona in the Western Hebrides of Scotland and place it on a gravestone in the little chapel graveyard. Everything since then had been hazy. She had fainted or blacked out at the graveside and ever since then she had started to have strange dreams and imaginings, almost as if she had been back in time. Alex MacDonald had been there, she was sure of that. But was it all true or was her mind playing tricks on her?

It was too much of a coincidence, it had to be. Only two of the runes in existence and both in New York and connected to her. Helen was connected, she had to be. Leaving the dishes she ran into the bedroom and quietly closed the door. Opening the dressing table drawer she reached her hand inside and took out the rune. It was such a small and insignificant looking stone, yet there was something about its simplicity that she had never noticed before. She had placed it into the drawer and forgotten all about it on her return.

Andrea removed her dressing gown and found an old pair of pajamas. She generally went to bed naked, enjoying the cool of the sheets against her skin, yet tonight she wanted to feel safe and warm, besides, there was a buttoned pocket in the pajama top where she could keep the rune safely next to her. It seemed a silly thing to do, yet she almost felt compelled to do it. Her grandmother had passed it on to her, entrusted her granddaughter, and she was now its keeper.

That night Andrea did not sleep well; her dreams were strange and disturbing and she wrestled with a darkness that filled her heart and head with unrest. At one point she thought she saw a figure in her room - a black cloaked figure, almost a ghost flitting in and out of the shadows. She could hear the sound of objects being moved, doors opening and closing, drawers sliding open and the rustle of papers and clothes before they were shut once more. At one point she thought she could feel someone's breath upon her face, could feel the weight of another presence bearing down on her but she kept her eyes tightly shut. When she awoke she was alone.

***

The early morning sun was streaming through the light fabric of the curtains and Andrea rubbed her eyes as she glanced around the room. The dream had been so real but as she looked around, nothing had been disturbed. Her mind was playing tricks once more.

But then she noticed it, faint at first but definitely in the air; the lingering sweet and heavy smell of expensive perfume and she recognized it at once. It was not one of her own favorites; it was too heavy - too powerful, she preferred the lighter and more floral fragrances.

Andrea remembered where she had noticed the aroma - at the opening night of the exhibition in the gallery.  It was Helen's perfume.

Sitting up straight her heart began to beat fast. Something was happening and it was not all in her head - it was very real and tangible, but she could not think what it was or why. What did Helen want from her? Had Helen really been in her room last night and if so, what was she looking for?

Her hand brushed against her pajama pocket - the rune still safely there, weighing slightly heavy against the flimsy material. There had to be a connection but it was not clear. There was the new exhibition too -
Runes and Relics
- everything was starting to link up but she was still no wiser. Was the rune of monetary value, is that what Helen was looking for? Surely a pair would be valuable but why would she act like a thief in the night? Helen was a respected figure in the arts world and very rich, why the furtiveness and mystery? Taking the rune from her pocket Andrea looked carefully at the small engraved stone. She didn’t believe in all the ancient mumbo jumbo, but there was something going on, something that she couldn’t quite grasp, but all paths led to this small object in her hand. She had to keep it safe, but where? Glancing around the room she thought carefully. It had to be a place no-one would think of looking. She wasn’t one for ornaments and the like, her own belongings were pretty sparse and she didn’t believe in personal clutter. Even from her own childhood she had only kept a few things, an Enid Blyton illustrated companion and an old teddy bear with one eye and not much fur; definitely the worse for wear but more lovable because of it.

It gave her an idea. Picking up the bear Andrea fetched the small sewing kit from her dressing table drawer. She had hated sewing at school and only kept the kit for extreme emergencies.

Holding the bear at arm’s length she looked him straight in the one beady eye.

“Sorry Ted, this has to be done. It won’t hurt a bit” and she began to pick away at his soft side seam with a small pair of scissors, creating a small gap, just big enough to slot the stone into, before stitching up the seam and making him whole again.

“There. That wasn’t so bad was it, now don’t you tell a soul” and with that she sat the Ted back into the old basket chair.

Andrea smiled at her eccentricity. If anyone had told her a few weeks ago that she would be hiding an old rock in a stuffed bear she would have thought them crackers. Instead it seemed that she was the one that was slightly unhinged, yet hiding the rune had made her mind feel easier, safer. It was almost a relief.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous in the light of day. All smoke and mirrors like something out of a bad novel, yet she couldn't deny there was something happening. Glancing at the clock, the digital numbers blinked out 8:10. She could hear a stirring in the next room - Steve was waking.  It was probably best not to tell him her fears. He would only think that she was definitely crazy. She still didn't believe him about Helen. Something was going on and he was sure to confide everything she said to that woman. She would just have to be quiet whilst she worked it out for herself. At least the rune was safe.