Chapter 11
She falls asleep with me inside her, her beautiful body limp and soft, utterly relaxed.
I’m not sure how I can already tell what she tends. I’ve never been super intuitive, at least not beyond the purview of my potion-making. When I make an emotive drink for someone, I sometimes get a sense of what they need, beyond what they’ve expressed. But that doesn’t always happen.
With her, I get this feeling that I’ve known her a long time. I don’t believe in past lives, but I have an aunt who does. If anything could convince me that our souls get reincarnated, it would be my connection with Marlowe. What else could explain this intimate link that I feel with her?
I move closer, my chest against her back, my body curled around hers. My hand cups her breast, and I roll my hips slowly, gliding in and out of her pussy just a little. She doesn’t stir, so I keep going.
She seemed pleased by the thought of me coming inside her while she sleeps. It’s not something I’ve ever wanted to try with anyone before, but she is unlocking parts of me that I didn’t know existed.
The orgasm rushes through my dick, blooms in my lower belly. I shudder with the force of it, and it’s all I can do not to groan as my cum jets through her body in rhythmic pulses.
I feel so good and so relaxed that I nearly fall asleep inside her, but I manage to pull out before I drift off.
Sometime around three, my dick wakes me up.
It’s pressed between Marlowe’s plump, smooth ass cheeks.
I’m achingly hard, and she gave me permission, so I lift her thigh a bit and check her slit.
A little stroking produces the wetness I need, so I enter her again.
She sighs and shifts, but doesn’t wake up while I make a deposit of fresh cum for her to find in the morning.
Her body responds to me, pulsing around my dick like she’s orgasming in her sleep.
This is a kink I didn’t know I had, but I enjoy the sex better when she’s awake. I love watching her face change, her lashes flutter, and her mouth open with sighs and whimpers. I love the way her eyes sparkle, and the way she bites her lip sometimes without realizing she’s doing it.
If I’m honest, I like how dangerous she is, too. I like the primal, mythical ferocity of her horse form. She’s goddamn beautiful.
This woman is too incredible for someone like me. But I plan on sticking around as long as she allows it.
I leave the bed a couple hours later, freshen up, get myself dressed, and head downstairs. I make coffee, the regular kind. I figure it’s best to let her tell me when she wants a special one.
Next I make scrambled eggs with cheese, onions, and ham. I put everything on a tray and cover the eggs with another dish to keep them warm.
The stairs creak as I mount them, carrying the tray. I set it on a chair near the bed, then head downstairs to fill a coffee cup for myself as well.
I’d like to do some of the chores before Marlowe gets up, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Even though I helped Tess yesterday, I was under supervision. I’ve got no experience caring for horses. It’s probably best to wait until Marlowe can give me directions about what should be done.
After pulling my boots on, I walk out onto the porch and stand there, sipping my coffee, breathing the fresh, chilly air coming off the sea.
One of the horses is making a lot of noise.
Do horses whinny around dawn, like roosters crow?
Except it doesn’t sound like an announcement of the day’s arrival.
Sounds more like a warning or a call. Like the horse is trying to get someone’s attention.
And it doesn’t sound like it’s coming from the barn.
I walk to the end of the porch and look toward the stable.
That’s where the horses should be, but they’re out.
Some of them are standing in the pasture.
Two of them are farther away, near the back fence, lying in the grass.
I squint, trying to see their shapes better.
Something about their position is wrong.
My heart drops into my boots.
Everything about this is wrong, from the prone shapes in the grass to the lone horse that stands nearest to the fence. It’s Atreides, the gelding I connected with yesterday. I thought he was calling for Marlowe—but maybe he was calling for me. Calling for help.
I set my coffee on the windowsill and run inside. Up the stairs, down the hall, into the bedroom, not sure how to tell her.
“Marlowe.” I grasp her shoulder. She’s still deeply asleep, her cheeks rosy. It takes a couple minutes of gently shaking her and calling her name before she rouses.
She unveils those startling aqua eyes and blinks long, dark lashes at me. “Hi there.”
“Marlowe, baby… I think you should get up.”
She frowns. “Is something wrong?” She sits up, the sheet slipping down to reveal her perfect breasts. I hate that I’m noticing them at this moment. Not the right time, Rick.
I start to speak, but Marlowe’s head whips to the side like she’s listening. Listening to the cries of the horse by the fence.
Alarm leaps into her gaze, and she jumps out of the bed. She pulls on her tank top and shorts, races past the breakfast I made her, thunders down the steps. I’m right on her heels. I steady her while she pulls on her boots.
She’s half-sobbing as we run toward the pasture. “It’s her, Rick. I can smell her.”
“Your sister.”
Marlowe fumbles with the gate latch and screams when she can’t undo it fast enough. I take over, swing it open, and close it behind us.
She runs toward the two prone figures. Drops to her knees.
It’s the two new mares, the rescues she brought in with Atreides. I crouch beside her while she confirms that they’re gone.
When she turns to me for comfort, I grab her in both arms. She doesn’t cry, just clutches me with frenzied strength.
“Why didn’t I hear them?” she chokes out.
“You said your father used to sing to horses to make them stay quiet. Maybe he taught your sister the same trick.”
“You’re right. Fuck.” Marlowe shoves me away and stands up. She stalks back toward the gate, white-faced and tearless. “I need my phone. I need to call Art Stanwick. He takes care of things like this. I lost one of my rescues once, and he helped with the body.”
“It’s okay to take a second to grieve.”
“I can’t.” She whirls on me, her eyes blazing. “Not yet. I can’t let myself feel it yet, do you understand?”
“Okay.”
“I need to board the other horses somewhere else until this is over.” She strides toward the nearest mare. “I need to see if any stables in this area have room. I have to protect the horses until I can kill my sister.”
I clear my throat. “So that’s the plan? Not judging, just wondering if you should take a second—”
“I can’t!” she snaps. “She broke our law. She killed horses. She probably tried to get into town last night, and when she couldn’t, she did this.
” Marlowe’s jaw clenches and she looks away.
“They didn’t try to run, call for me, or fight back.
Not that they’d have stood a chance against her anyway.
And while it was happening I was with you. ”
“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can say. I’m not good with words, especially not at times like this.
“It’s not your fault.” She says it crisply, almost viciously. “You’re going to help me get these guys back into the stable. Then we’re going to do the chores and make some calls.”
“I made you breakfast and coffee,” I venture. “It’s in your room. You should eat something.”
“I’ve got bigger things to worry about than my own hunger,” she snaps.
“Respectfully, no. You don’t.” I take her by the shoulders and turn her to face me.
“You told me that negative emotions are dangerous for you, especially when you’re repressing instead of releasing them.
Add hunger to that, and it’s all going to be worse.
The last thing you want to do is transform and kill me because you’re out of control.
I won’t go out like that. I don’t want to be the person who makes you hate yourself for the rest of your life.
So you’re gonna sit on that porch where you can keep an eye on your babies, and I’m gonna bring the tray out to you.
You’re gonna eat your eggs and drink your coffee. Then we’ll do everything else.”
To my surprise, Marlowe listens. She sits on the porch and forces herself to eat some breakfast and swallow some coffee. We take care of the surviving horses, and she makes the call to Art Stanwick.
Once she’s finished talking to him, I pull out my phone. “I’ll help you call stables around here, but before that, I need to call my cook, Tae. He’ll need to either close the diner or find some extra help.”
“Oh my god.” She grabs my arm. “It’s the start of the festival. Your busiest weekend—or at least it was for Lou when he ran the place.”
“It’s fine. We can close for the day. There are other places to eat in Crescent Cove—snack shacks, cafes, the restaurant—”
“No.” Marlowe shakes her head. “You have to go. You’re needed. Without the diner, those other eating places will be overwhelmed by all the visitors. Everything will be crowded and no one will be happy.”
Much as I hate to leave her, she’s right.
I have a responsibility to Tae and to the servers I hired for this weekend.
More than that, I have a responsibility to the whole town, especially the council members who were kind to me after Lou’s death and made it so easy for me to step in and take over his business.
“Fine, I’ll go to work. But I’m not leaving you here alone today. I’ll call Jareth, the witch who made your bracelet. He can stay with you and help out. Maybe he can put some protective charms around this place to keep your sister away.”
“Does Jareth know about me?”
“No. Although I won’t lie, he might put two and two together at some point. The witches talk among themselves, and between the ban on kelpies and my request for the exception charm, along with this situation, he’ll probably figure it out.”
She sighs. “I’d rather just handle things alone.”
“That’s out of the question.”
“Fine, I guess you can call him. If he can help protect this place, maybe I won’t have to board the horses elsewhere.”
“I’ll call Jareth on the way into town. And I’ll come back as soon as the diner closes tonight. Text me, okay? Let me know how things are going.”
She doesn’t answer, but when I wrap my arms around her, she relaxes against me. With her face pressed to my chest, she mutters words I can barely hear. “I really do need to kill her, Rick. She’s going to keep harming others unless I agree to do what she wants.”
I tighten the hug. “Promise you won’t do anything until we can talk it through tonight.”
She pulls back a little, eyeing me rebelliously. “You don’t have any say in the decision.”
“I know. I just think if you can talk about it with someone, you might see another way to handle things.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then that’s your choice. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Rick.” Her eyes meet mine, liquid and mournful. “I’m already hurt.”
Kissing her tastes like a goodbye. I don’t want to get into the truck and head back toward Crescent Cove, but I force myself to do it. The second I hit the coastal road, I call Jareth.
“Hey bro,” he says cheerfully. “I thought you’d be at work already.”
“I should be, but something came up. Listen, I can’t give you a lot of details, but I need you to go out to Spyglass Stables and stay there today. And bring all the protective spell crap you’ve got.”
“I’m gonna need more info,” he replies.
“Marlowe Reilly runs the stables. She’ll explain when you get there. Two of her horses were killed by a supernatural last night.”
“Shit,” he mutters. “Okay, sure. I’ll help.”
“Free lunch at the diner for a month, and I’ll owe you,” I tell him. “Thanks, man.”
“No problem.”
I end the call and refresh my grip on the wheel.
I can still see the look on Marlowe’s face when she knelt beside the two horses.
Their deaths were quick, and there was no devouring of the bodies.
Could have been worse, I guess. Still, it’s a tragedy, one she won’t get over anytime soon.
And it sucks worse because it’s so soon after Lou’s death.
“When will this woman get a fucking break?” I mutter.
I roll down the truck windows and breathe in the wild air of the sea.
This drive is a short reprieve before I get to the diner and begin the tornado of cooking, brewing, seating, and serving that will occupy the next ten hours or so.
Not to mention the cleanup and stuff after we close, although I might be able to get Tae and the servers to do most of that so I can get back to Marlowe—
I slam down the brake pedal. I took the curve too fast and there’s somebody in the road.
My tires grind to a halt a couple feet from them. Way too close for comfort.
I almost caused another tragedy.
My heart thunders in my chest, and my fingers are trembling. I shove open the door of the truck and hop down. “Hey! You okay? What the hell?”
The woman I almost hit is pale as death. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been walking in the middle of the road. There was so little traffic that I got careless.”
“I could have killed you.” I rub my forehead and take a deep breath. “Shit, that scared me. Where are you headed?”
“I’m visiting the area for a music festival. Staying in Crescent Cove, at the inn. I thought I’d get up early and enjoy a seaside walk before all the activities start.”
“Okay.” I blow out another breath, trying to calm my pounding pulse. “You wanna hop in? I’m headed to work at the diner in town. I’ll get you a cup of coffee on the house.”
“Really?” Her face brightens.
“It’s the least I can do after I almost killed you.”
“Oh my god, thank you! As long as you’re not some kind of serial killer.” She hesitates, her smile tinged with caution.
“I don’t have the energy for that line of work.” I circle around to the passenger side and open the door for her.
“Such a gentleman. Too thoughtful for your own good.” She approaches, smiling. “I can see why she likes you.”
Her teeth… they’re much too long, much too sharp. Reaching past me, she slams the passenger door with a force that warps the frame of the truck.
Supernatural strength. Horse power. “You’re Marlowe’s sister.”
“Good to see you again, Fisherman. You’re coming with me, and there are two ways we can do this—the boring way, or the fun way.”
“How about the boring way? I’ve been told I’m not much fun.” I lean casually against the damaged truck with one arm, inching my other hand toward the pocket with my phone.
Her hand shoots out, clamping around my wrist so tightly I grunt with pain. “Sneaky, are we? Alrighty then. The fun way it is.”