The Druid Series 9: Baird (A Druid Novel) (20 page)

“
I don't want to argue, Faren. You've got to know that.” Her root beer eyes peg me to the spot. The sweep of her dark hair lays like chocolate silk past her full breasts. “But with your looks”—she throws her manicured hands in the air—“you could shake your booty a little and work a side job. Get a place in your same area... you could own something.”

It's an old argument. Her penthouse is nearly paid for while mine's a rental with a landlord that cares more about the rent than maintenance.

Her eyes swim with knowledge, and I set down my tea. It's too cold to drink anyway. Her words put the last nail in the coffin of my resistance. “Something secure,” she adds in a whisper and I let her hug me. I cling to her and try to believe my financial troubles and dark secret can be erased by taking off my clothes for strangers

Kiki loves me more than I love myself.

She loves me enough for us both.

*

Sue glances up when I click off the light off. The sky is darkening as I slide my last patient folder through the glass partition. She has that look in her eyes and pushes a business card through the slot.

It bears a doctor's name: Dr. Clive Matthews.

I give Sue a sharp look, and she shrugs, giving my hand a maternal pat. My eyes burn with tears from the spontaneous gesture.

Sue notices my emotional struggle and ignores it. “He got rid of my migraines. Miracle worker, I say.” She nods and glances at the card significantly.

I notice the appointment time and sigh.

Sue doesn’t drop her gaze. “How much longer are you going to struggle through those bone crushers?”

I don't answer, and she nods in her knowing way. “That's what I thought, Miss Mitchell. You'd have just come in suffering worse than your own patients.”

Sue’s right. She knows it, and I do too.

I take the card and stuff it in the pocket of my smock, Dr. Seuss cats cover it in a smear of red and blue.

“
Thanks,” I say grudgingly while I grab my coat.

“
Welcome,” she shoots back in triumph as I hear the door whisper closed behind me.

I look at the card again as the cars, people, and city noise encapsulate me in the comforting rhythm of downtown. The smell of fish, food, and sea mingle, and I begin the short trek to the dank alley with the entrance to my apartment.

I have two weeks to prepare myself to go back into a hospital. I hate hospitals. They're all about death.

The thought of returning is almost enough to get a proper panic attack going.

Almost.

#

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BLOOD SINGERS
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BLOOD SINGERS

Book One: The Blood Series

Copyright © 2007-2012 Tamara Rose Blodgett

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All rights are reserved.

Edited by
Stephanie T. Lott

Cover Design:
Claudia McKinney

Font Design:
Brunette Designs

Photographs:
DepositPhotos

Photography
: Oleg Gekman

Dedication:

The girls that keep me Sane on Shelfari (and otherwise): Beth and Dianne

I love you guys~

Once they had eliminated the impossible, whatever remained, however improbable, must be the truth.

~Sherlock Holmes

Prologue

Julia pressed her nose to the glass, the trees a sea of green as they rushed outside her window, her momma and daddy's voices a low and pleasant drone from the front seat.

She hated the belt, it pressed across her neck in an uncomfortable place, itchy and suffocating.

“Momma,” Julia whined plaintively.

Her mother's chocolate eyes appeared over the front seat, such a contrast to the auburn hair held in her customary pony tail.

“What is it?”

Julia worked her small finger under the belt and said, “I hate, HATE this stupid strap! I want to take it off!” Julia crossed her arms, huffing.

Momma sighed, unlatching her belt as she turned in the front seat to adjust the neck restraint portion of Julia's seatbelt. As Momma got nearer Julia smelled the special perfume that she wore. At once Momma's scent assaulted her where it intimately combined with the perfume she always wore.

Daddy said from the front, “Amber, sit back down. The belt's latched, she's just going to have to deal with it for another ten minutes.”

Julia's eyes narrowed to slits. Daddy was so stubborn. His belt didn't bite into his neck! 'Cuz he was a Big Man! Ugh... Julia fumed.

Momma smiled and began to turn and Julia saw Daddy's face in profile, watching to make sure she sat down safely.

He only took his eyes off the road for a moment.

It was enough.

Julia saw twin beads of light bear down on their car as an impossibly large grill came to eat them, the chrome winking in the late afternoon light.

Daddy made a correction to the right but that threw Momma on top of him, imprisoning their bodies in a macabre dance, the steering wheel sandwiching them together.

As if in slow motion Julia saw her mother's face as Amber looked at her father.

The knowledge of their impending death appeared on their faces like an unspoken promise.

Julia screamed as the truck slammed into the car and the belt that she hated so much whipped against her neck and slammed her against the back seat with such force that the breath left her small body.

She watched her parents crushed together in a final embrace.

The metal colliding was an earthquake in her ears and something wet and warm hit her face. She opened her eyes and her parents were... everywhere, their blood like a blanket that coated her face and hair.

Her brain howled, refusing to accept what was happening. Her vision clouded. Her neck and head throbbed and her lungs were a burning inferno with the need to scream.

The last thing she remembered was her mother's hair entwined in the steering wheel like so much spun copper.

#

CHAPTER 1

Ten Years Later

Julia stuffed her wool cap down more firmly on her head and waded through the icy puddles on the way to her 1977 Chevy Blazer. Fall had edged into early winter and the dampness of the rain had solidified into a dangerous sheet of ice.

Julia had known better and instead of wearing the latest Ugg fashion boots she'd slogged on her XtraTufs. They had an unparalleled ugliness but did the job. She might keep her ass in the air instead of pegged on an ice puddle by wearing her trusty boots. She threw her backpack over one shoulder and balanced a steaming cup of coffee in the other hand. She'd lied through her teeth about the contents to Aunt Lily, who seemed to think caffeine was the devil's drink. Julia smiled at that. She thought she was done growing and besides, coffee was a mainstay of Alaskan existence. She shuffled to the driver's side and gripped the handle. Then her feet lost some of their purchase and she slid to the right, her coffee sloshing out of the slit on the travel mug.

“
Shit!” Julia said, as a couple of hot drops landed on her wrist, scalding her.

Grappling with the handle she jerked the door open and threw her palm on the driver's seat, steadying herself until she could heave her backpack inside.

But her breath stilled in her lungs when she saw what waited for her.

A single rose, its tremulous form in a beautiful, ethereal tangerine color lay inches from where her reddened and chapped hand had slapped down.

She'd almost destroyed it while saving her sliding butt from falling.

A smile stole over her face and she carefully put her travel mug in the cup holder between the seats and picked up the flower.

No note.

But she knew who had laid it there.

Her fiancé, Jason. Actually, it was a secret. Lily would have ten different kinds of cows if she knew how serious they were.

She looked around, her breath coming in white puffs in the crisp air. The snow having not committed itself to falling yet, the promise still hung there in the air. It would be like him, Julia thought, to pop up and grab her from behind, twirling her around just as she discovered his present.

But he wasn't there.

Huh, she turned the keys and jacked up the heat all the way. Five minutes and she'd hit the road, head to Homer High. She was spoiled. Usually Jason picked her up but today she had to head over to the DMV and get a stupid emissions test. It was amazing they even allowed her to drive her gas-guzzling truck. She sighed. Soon, she'd be with Jason.

*

school

Julia tore off her multi-colored itchy hat as she waltzed into the school. The familiar smell of kids, books, lunch and all the other school fragrances wafting across the air, the chill of late fall left outside the doors.

She fluffed her champagne-colored hair, hoping to eradicate the hat head she'd tagged herself with on the way over.

“
Hey, bestie!” Cynthia cried.

Julia laughed, like she hadn't just spent all day and a night last weekend with Cyn? She acted like they'd been separated for months.

“Hey Cyn,” Julia said slowing, letting her catch up.

As usual, Cyn was dressed to the nines. High heels, ridiculously tight-ass pants and the latest, off-the-shoulder top with a crazy zebra pattern. It made Julia dizzy looking at it.

“What?” Cynthia looked at Julia's face.

“
Your top, it's like some kind of optical illusion or something.”

“
I know, right? It's hot-hot-hot,” she snapped her fingers after each word for emphasis. Julia rolled her eyes, there was no cure for her Fashion Awareness.

Julia considered herself Fashion Challenged. Yessiree. Irrefutably. Getting everything to match and be comfortable was of utmost importance.

Of course, once Julia mentioned Cyn's shirt, then she was honor bound to give Julia the once-over. Scanned from the top of her head she had almost escaped the wrath when Cynthia's gaze landed like a lead weight on her boots.

“
Argh!” she shrieked in horror. “You wore your Tufs to school again! And don't give me any of that horse shit about how we're seniors and absolved of everything,” she rolled her eyes dramatically, “fashion is the exception. And those,” she waggled her fingers at Julia's offending footwear, “are for...for...”

“
Gardening only,” Jason interjected smoothly, his arm sliding around Julia's waist. He'd heard the XtraTufs speech before.

“
Don't you defend her either!” Cynthia lambasted him and Jason, all mock innocence said, “Who me?” his hand to his chest.

Cynthia's eyes narrowed to slits. “You're no help, Jason Caldwell, she could wear a shapeless sack over her whole body and you'd still think she was gorgeous.”

“Guilty,” he said, his forehead dipping to peck Julia's head, still fuzzy from the hat.

Julia leaned back against his chest, her head tucking comfortably underneath his chin and sighed. This is where she'd wanted to be from the moment she opened her eyes. Against him, soaking up his warmth. Letting it seep into her bones and chase the coldness of the morning away.

Cyn snapped her fingers in front of Julia's face, “snap out of it Jules!”

Jason laughed, Julia was known to mentally wander. It was becoming an annoying theme lately.

“What? Cranky witch!” Julia teased, taking a swipe at Cyn with her woolen hat.

She ducked smoothly, accustomed to Julia's abuse. “Okay... so, did you get that English paper done we started on Friday?”

Julia dug around in her backpack until she found a crumpled piece of paper at the bottom and turning, she slapped it against her locker, smoothing it with her other hand. Jason's big hand was a warm presence on her shoulder, kneading it softly.

“
Are you kidding? Terrell will never accept that mess,” Cynthia said, throwing out one hip and putting a hand on the jutting point.

Julia shrugged a shoulder. “It's a rough draft. Besides, keeping the standard low like I do assures me gravy when I turn something in.”

Julia smiled at her awesome logic. School just didn't appeal. It was something she survived until she could graduate. It was Jason that was going to University of Alaska Anchorage. He was set with a full ride.

Mr. Basketball. Julia turned to look at him and wondered for the millionth time why he'd want her. He was so gorgeous and she was so... her. It didn't matter that Cyn thought she was pretty. Whatever. Cyn was her BFF, that's what they do, cheerlead.

Julia still didn't have A Plan. She knew she couldn't wait to get out of Aunt Lily's place and begin a life with Jason.

Cynthia gave an elaborate roll of her eyes and caved, saying, “You can try all your down home weasel-like charm on Terrell while Jason and I turn in real papers. Unwrinkled papers.” She cocked her brows up to her hairline and looping her arm through Julia's, she dragged her to block one.

The Dreaded Language Arts. Everyone knew there was nothing artful about it. Jason laughed as they trudged to class, Julia's arms linked with theirs.

#

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Author's Note:

This is an erotic and fictitious story. Please practice safe sex in the real world.

For mature audiences only; eighteen years of age and older.

Dedication:

Erica P., who thinks firefighters need coverage too...

SMOLDERING WET

The ZOE SCOTT Series 1

Copyright © 2013 Marata Eros

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All rights are reserved.

1

Dara looked at Zoe, sitting there twirling a strand of dark blonde hair into a spiral then letting it bounce back into a tightly wound spring. Again and again.

“Okay, tell
Dara
,” she said, her own blood-red auburn hair sweeping forward in a straight curtain as they sat at their favorite coffee shop. Cool autumn sunlight poured in, lighting Zoe's clear root beer brown eyes.

“
Goddamned bored,” she sulked, swinging an elegant leg back and forth underneath the wrought iron bistro table, chin in her hand.

“
Thanks a lot, Zo,” Dara murmured, setting her mug down on the table with a clunk and leaning back as she crossed her arms underneath her breasts.

Zoe's eyes met Dara's and she sighed. “It's not you, 'kay?” Her brows met in the middle then she leaned forward like she'd share a secret. But Dara knew that Zoe didn't keep secrets well. Her entire face told the story without a word. “It's... gawd!”

Dara leaned forward. “What?” she asked softly, searching her friend's face. Dara was nearing forty, having a good time with her life, though her grueling job as English professor was draining. Zoe was in her early thirties but they'd struck up an easy friendship a few years ago as they had similar interests.

Particular interests.

“I've met someone,” Zoe admitted.

Dara grinned. “That's fantastic!” she exclaimed, though Dara wasn't sure how that would fit with their extracurricular activities. She wound slender fingers around the cooling cup of her tea and waited. Zoe would spit it out, she always did. Dara couldn't help the visual that came to mind and her lips curled into an ironic smile.

“I'm horny,” Zoe added.

Dara frowned. “Ah,” she set her head to the side, her eyes going to half-mast as she gave her friend a considering look. “I think you can figure that part out,” Dara finished in a droll tone.

Zoe shook her head, her hair bouncing around her shoulders. “No... here it is Dara, he's only one man.”

Dara could feel realization bloom inside her head,
oh.

“
I mean... it's been- what? Three months since Taylor-boy's shindig?”

Dara nodded slowly, remembering the Drake, Kid and President Taylor cocktail. They'd gone everywhere, in and out of them both. She leaned back again, picking up her cooling tea and taking another sip.

“So what are you saying?” Dara asked, watching the puzzle pieces of light fall and play along Zoe's mocha-colored skin.

“
I'm saying I want a replay.”

Zoe looked at Dara with expectant anxiety. It sat on her face oddly, the full lips that Dara had felt on the most intimate parts of her body more times than she could count, were now pursed in frustration.

“Okay. So what's the plan?” Dara finally asked, because she knew damn well Zoe had one. Out of the two of them, Zoe was the conductor in the little freight train of sexcapades that she devised.

Zoe actually wrung her fingers, the knuckles bleeding to white. “I might lose this new stud muffin, but we're set to meet his friends after they get off work tonight...”

Dara leaned forward again, intrigued and working hard to school her expression into neutrality. All pretense of detachment was wiped from her face. She could stand some excitement too and asked the question that had been nipping at the edges of her mind since Zoe had said the B word.

Boyfriend.

Zoe didn't date—she fucked. That was it. This was a new development. “What does he do?” Dara asked the questions she should.