6. Azzie
Six
Azzie
Heat and desire raced through me with every touch. Lips brushed my mouth. My jaw. My neck and ears. Fingers trailed up my spine. Down my chest. Along the sensitive skin inside my thighs, sending shivers through my whole body.
I was wrapped in warmth. Consumed by passion. And my heart fluttered with each kiss and pinch and stroke. A hand cupped my breast, kneading. Rolling a nipple, while a mouth covered mine, swallowing my moans. There shouldn’t be this many points of contact. How was it possible to be touched in so many places at the same time?
Why did I care about anything but the sensual attention enveloping me?
Need built inside with each fresh caress. A desperation, carried on the swelling adoration. The all-consuming feeling that, here and now, I was safe. I was loved. I was where I belonged.
Fingers slipped between my legs, sliding easily along my skin. A cock nudged my opening and thrust inside, spreading me open. Connecting me to?—
Who?
I tried to grasp the thought. Who was I with? How did they make me feel so good?
It didn’t matter. Because this was incredible—the climax building inside me, the pleasure, the promise of eternity…
As I slid toward orgasm, a gasp tore from my throat. And then a cry.
The sound reached my ears, and my eyes flew open.
I was alone. In a hotel room in Elko. Sunlight was streaming through my window, blinding me.
The dream lingered on my skin, and the sensations of being a part of something bigger ached in my chest. I fucking hated dreams like that. I needed a shower, to wash away the clouds and the unrealistic sensations plaguing me. Those of safety and security.
I was already moving toward the bathroom, stripping off the T-shirt and panties I’d slept in, and yanking the shower door open, to turn on the faucet. I stepped into the tub without waiting for the water to be the right temperature.
Icy drops bit into my skin like pellets assaulting me, and drilled away the lingering sensations. But the heat was back too quickly. A waterfall of warmth, falling around me. Blanketing me and threatening to draw me back into the safe cocoon my brain had trapped me in while I dreamed.
The water drew my desire and need to the surface, and the sensations of the dream flooded my body. But with consciousness here, it all felt more real.
At the phantom touch of being pressed to the wall, I leaned my back against the tile. The shock of cold jarred me but didn’t yank me from the shapeless fantasy settling in. A mouth was on mine. It was also on my breast, sucking one nipple. Licking furiously.
I moved a hand up, to mimic the sensation. To make it more real. I kneaded my skin, rolled a nub between my fingers, and pinched until I ached with need.
The pulse between my legs grew more insistent. In the dream, there had been a touch. A penetration. Two of them. One from the front, one from behind. Why had my brain decided I was fucking the physically impossible? More importantly, I was disappointed I only had one hand free to recreate the feelings.
I slipped my hand between my legs, and drove my fingers inside me. I was slick—soaking wet—from the intense dream. The penetration wasn’t as good as a hard, thick cock, but it was something.
Not enough of a something to get me off. I needed more .
I didn’t have more. I didn’t have that security and love. I only had the physical, which was all I needed.
I slipped my fingers to my clit and focused on the sensations. The jumbled dream had me near climax, and the right touch would finish me.
When I bumped my clit, a jolt of desire rocked my body. I chased the feeling, stroking the swollen nub. Homing in on the spot that felt the best. Pushing and working myself, as need built inside. I was so close. Right there. If I could just?—
Orgasm spilled through me, and my body jerked. I kept teasing myself, as I clenched from wave after wave, until my touch was too much. Part of me ached for that more , but I wouldn’t find it here, and I needed to get on with my day. The wall held me upright and I breathed jaggedly until I caught my breath.
“Okay, that’s enough of that.” Saying the words out loud helped forge that final bond to pull me the rest of the way into reality.
Other people had nightmares about monsters chasing them. About running for their lives and losing the ones they loved.
I’d lived that. My bad dreams were about being loved. About sex that came with a connection and healed the ache of loneliness inside.
How fucked up was that?
I turned the water to lukewarm, to keep myself grounded, and moved through the rest of my shower on autopilot. I towel-dried my hair enough to keep it from dripping everywhere, and pulled it into a braid, then dressed.
A quick check of my phone confirmed what the too-bright sunlight implied—I’d slept far later than normal. It was after eleven in the morning. There were two texts from Gwen, about an hour and a half apart.
Gwen: We’re at the diner for breakfast if you want to join us. To hang out, not work.
Gwen: Heading home. Thanks for everything.
An ache pinged in my chest at missing out on another hour or two of fake-friend time.
It was for the best. No reason to get attached. Not to them and not to Davyn.
There was a phone call as well, and as soon as I saw Enid’s number, I called her back. Enid was helping me uncover a path to force my powers to appear. Not because I had some overwhelming desire to become omnipotent, but because I wanted these fucking prophecies done and out of the way.
“Hey,” she answered cheerfully..
“How have you been?” I stuck to the small talk as a polite opener.
We’d promised more than once that we’d never get too involved in the details of each other’s lives. We were acquaintances, not friends. I didn’t make friends anymore.
“Same as always.” There was a shrug in her voice. “You make it to town okay?”
I didn’t tell people my travel plans—not like there was anyone to tell—but the information she’d found was responsible for my being here. For my suggesting this to Gwen as a destination when she was trying to figure out where in Nevada had both booze and nudity in the strip clubs. “Yeah. No problems getting here,” I said.
“Why does that sound like you’re qualifying your answer?”
When Mom got sick, she insisted it was always going to happen. That her cancer was expected. I searched everywhere I could for a cure, regardless. If there was magic for everything else, there had to be a way to kill what was ravaging her body.
“Maybe because you’re bored and want a story?” I was playful rather than mean in my reply.
Enid gave a short laugh. “That’s not why, but I’m always up for a good story.”
Back when I met Enid, I’d been asking everyone who would talk to me if there was a way to help my mom. A non-traditional way. I’d always been a book person—stories were my friends at the end of a long day of training—and for Mom, I read everything. I talked to everyone.
I wasn’t raised in a sheltered world, but Mom knew magic and the gods were real, and that meant I did too. I hadn’t realized until I tried to find more obscure information that most people didn’t know or even believe.
When I walked into Enid’s magic shop, I expected more of the same. A woman who didn’t have any idea that humanity was only a portion of the world she sat in, selling a bunch of crystals and cards.
Enid not only believed, but she was also a witch. A being born with a certain kind of magic. She had so much book knowledge—of the obscure, the fascinating and everything in between. But she hadn’t been outside her shop much. Had never traveled away from her small town.
So she gave me her knowledge, and I told her stories of how those things worked in real life.
“Well, I learned that even being a Berserker and being hung like one doesn’t save a man from thinking he’s got a small dick.” Making light of the situation with the wolf was the best way for me to process it.
“That doesn’t sound like nearly as much fun as it could’ve been,” Enid said.
“It really wasn’t.” I’d never gotten the cure to cancer from Enid or anyone else, though she was happy to tell me all the theories she’d learned, and I was willing to share if I’d seen it in action or not.
When Mom passed away, when I pulled away from everything and everyone, that included Enid. It was safer for her. The people I got close to died, because some ancient beings saw me in some ancient visions.
Enid tried more than once to tell me that wasn’t the way things worked, and she was there if I needed. “Well, boo, ” she replied. “That was one more piece of information I hoped the books were wrong about.”
That made me chuckle. With sunlight spilling through the window, and a person I knew and trusted to talk to, it was easy to pretend last night was a dream. The other side of the coin from the actual dream I’d woken up from.
Though both left an empty ache in my chest when I thought about Davyn.
“I mean it,” Enid said. “You sound… off. Are you all right?”
I’m really not . “The Berserker had a ring. A magical roofie .” I’d run into jewelry before that had passive spells. Protection. Strength. Luck. But never one that could be actively used to cast magic.
“ Eww. ” Disgust leaked into Enid’s reply.
“Yeah. After it knocks a person out, they wake up with an insatiable need to hurt the nearest being.”
“Wait. Did he— Did you— Are you—?” Her stammer oozed fear.
I could guess what she was worried about, because roofie implied?—
I didn’t want to linger on that thought. “I’m fine. Nothing like that happened. He basically said he was looking for a fight.” But his ring had me thinking. “If an artifact, a ring, can do that kind of magic, can it do other things? If I could get my hands on something like that, would it help me?”
“No.”
I wasn’t used to her being so definite in her answers. “Like that? Just no ?”
She sighed. “There are pieces of jewelry, accessories, that will let you cast some magic. What kind will depend on whether we can find one and if the theories are true. Most of these trinkets are only effective because they were gifted by a loved one”—love was its own powerful magic—“and the ones that weren’t… If you knew how they were made, you’d be ill.”
“Oh.” I should ask. Later.
“And I’ve never heard of one unlocking someone’s magic.”
What if I’m different ? If I chased every possibility out there, I’d spend an eternity spinning my wheels. While the idea of a magical ring that let me be done with prophecies and keep everyone from dying was wonderful, it didn’t feel like a realistic solution.
“Okay. I’ll nix the ring idea.” And move on to my real reason for being here. “So you called?” I settled on the bed and reached for one of my knife holsters, as much out of habit as anything.
“My contact is ready to meet you, but I’m supposed to convey that their information comes at a cost.”
Most things did. She’d found me someone who had experience with other potentials. With helping them access some of their abilities. Cost rarely meant money, which was good, since what I made being a friend for hire went to things like shelter, food, and a disturbing number of replacement burner phones. Even those broke more than normal around me.
“How much?” I traced my thumb absentmindedly over the design on my holster, the way I had thousands of times before. Something was wrong with the texture.
“They said you have to negotiate that with them, but promised it was a price you should be willing to pay, given what you want.”
That didn’t sound ominous at all. “What do I owe you ?” I always found a way to pay Enid for her help. Something Mom taught me when I was young, and I agreed, was that I didn’t want to be one of those selfish gods who used people when I ascended. Since my entire reason for pursuing this path was to stop people from hurting as much, it didn’t make sense for me to do harm in order to accomplish my goal.
“A full and complete description of what happens when you meet this individual,” Enid said.
“Deal.” My thumb passed over something smooth. A stone, not leather. That shouldn’t be there. I looked at the holster in my hand. There was a gem tucked inside the decorative straps of leather. Davyn . “What does Amethyst do?”
“You already know the answer to that.”
I did. It was one of the easy things even non-believers got right. But I needed to hear her say it. “Humor me.”
“It’s protection. Frequently used for spells that mask magic and hide their owner-slash-keep them safe from harm.”
Davyn had my holsters last night, while I was unconscious. He’d removed them and put them on the nightstand. He must have done this then, because they weren’t out of my sight otherwise. “Thanks. Where do I meet this contact of yours?”
She gave me the address, as well as some instructions that had been passed along to her. Landmarks in town. “I hope that means something to you.”
“It’s not a big town. Left at the diner is sufficient.”
“Good.” Enid hesitated. “Be careful.”
“I always am.” A lie. The world wasn’t going to kill me until prophecy was done with me.
“You rarely are.” Her teasing was gone. “But I have a bad feeling about this.”
Fortunately for me, she wasn’t a seer, so her feeling didn’t matter. “I’ll call you when I’m done, but I don’t know how long it will be.” Hours. Days. No way to tell. “Talk then.” I hung up before she could say anything else.
Her warning stuck in my head. I have a bad feeling… I stared at the protection charm Davyn snuck into my gear. He had to know I’d see it. I wasn’t happy about being warded in any way without my permission.
I wanted my destiny to come to me. I was tired of hiding from it, and if I thought standing on top of the tallest casino in town and screaming, Come get me, bitch , would do me any good, I’d give it a try.
On the other hand, I was about to walk into the unknown, meet with someone Enid hadn’t been able to uncover much about, and ask them to help me unlock what I could do, without having any idea what that meant to them.
Images flashed in my mind of the past. Of Rayne. Of her attackers and her death. If she’d been hidden then, would she still be here now?
That was as useless a question as the others I tended to assault myself with around her death. If I’d been a better fighter… If I’d been willing to kill… If… If… If… Asking those things had never brought me answers or peace.
So why not add one more question to the stack?
I grabbed my things. Most of what I owned fit in my backpack, and the rest was disposable and in a small studio apartment in Salt Lake. I left my keycard on the dresser near the TV to check out, and walked out the door.
And ran smack into a solid wall of grimy T-shirt and jeans, covering muscle.
Davyn .