Fall Thru

An hour—or “chrome”—later I stood with Caster in a wide courtyard, two motorcycle-looking bikes between us. He threw a cell phone sized, silver bar at me. “That’s the battery pack for the bike. I doubt we’ll need to recharge, but it’s always good to have an extra.”

I looked at the bike suspiciously. My mother called them death traps, and I was hard-pressed to disagree. “Is it safe?”

“Safer than training with Fever.”

No argument there. “I’ve never been on a bike.”

“And I’ve never met a human,” he announced, settling on the bike’s seat with a squeak of leather and a flex of muscles. “New experiences make up life.”

This was my second time meeting Caster, and we’d been together barely five minutes, cumulative. It seemed the pattern in this world to just throw people to the dogs. A very sink or swim mentality. If I didn’t know for a fact Fever left with her partner Blue—a chipper Dryad that was completely opposite her name—I would swear I heard her voice in my ear saying, “Join him or quit. Your choice. Be quick.”

I threw a leg over the bike and settled on it. The cool metal went straight through my black leggings and made me wish I’d worn something warmer.

“Try leather next time,” Caster said as he leaned over and quickly showed me how to work the controls and gave me the code to turn on, turn off, and lock my bike. “It’s the unofficial uniform of the Bookkeepers. Warmer, easier to get stains out of, and you’d look better in it.”

“My job isn’t to give you a show,” I snapped with more anger than I intended.

Thirty minutes in the shower and while I was physically clean, I still felt dirty. I’d been trying to rub one out and assuage the throbbing mess that was my clit. Nothing worked, and I assumed it had something to do with Caster. No doubt just like Fever’s fiery burns, the magic Caster threw off stayed much longer than he did.

“We’re not going to have sex,” he said smoothly, surprising me.

“Of course we’re not. Did I do something to make you think we were.”

He started his bike and cracked a smile. “You got wet.”

I sputtered, mentally cursing sexy incubi everywhere. He went on in front of me, leaving a brief trail of dust in his wake. Caster stopped when he hit the arch of poisonous vines that were used to let citizens in and out and keep everyone else far away.

“You coming, human?” he called out.

I slapped on the helmet he hadn’t bothered to put on, and wiggled as it conformed to my head. The bike wasn’t hard to work, and in a second it was moving and I was in front of him. I pushed down harder on the rounded control on my left handle and the engine purred loudly beneath me, sending vibrations to places that didn’t need vibrations . . . right at that moment.

Caster was quick to catch up and pass me, his bike roaring like a distant cousin of a Harley. “It’s tree dills Bent,” he called over the purr of electric engines. Three . . . something something.

I groaned and rolled my eyes. I’d gotten good with the numbers, but the distances were still a mystery to me. “Tree dills Bent?”

Caster looked over at me and shook his head. “Talk to Duke if you want a lesson on time and direction.”

I rolled my eyes and ignored his comment. “You call him Duke. No one calls him Duke.”

He turned back to the road, leaning into the bike as we approached a thick forest with trees that kissed the sky. “I’m not under his rule and claim no fealty to him.”

“Then how are you a Bookkeeper?”

“How are you?” he parried.

I mentally sighed as the road thinned and I was forced to ride behind him for about fifteen minutes. Sometimes it was so easy to get caught up in this world, forget everything I came from. No adventure could amount to any adventure here, and no parallels could be drawn.

Even something as simple as going to the library or “knowledge house” as it translated was amazing. It was like something out of Tim Burton’s twisted fantasy, with creatures that the Greeks would have marveled at. Everyone was a cross with something, and things that I hadn’t even heard of walked the halls and called out, “Hey, Tilly the human.”

I was the oddity.

Caster cast a glance over his shoulder. “We’re coming up to it. Keep your eyes open and don’t run over any foals.”

That was going on my mental list of things I never expected to hear. Number three thousand and something, I think.

The trail expanded until it birthed a wide meadow with rolling hills and streams like veins through it. “Amazing.”

A few more minutes and we came to a series of spread out cottages, arranged in an open square. Centaurs and humans walked together through the little town, stopping in some of the cottages and coming out of others.

Caster held up a hand and slowed his bike. “Stop. We’re here.”

Gawking was an inbred trait when I saw half horse, half human people walking around, but I stifled it and climbed off the bike. For a few seconds I fumbled with the controls to turn it off and input the lock code, and by the time I did that successfully, Caster was a good thirty paces away. Scrambling to catch up, I tugged at the strap pulling between my breasts as he walked toward the big, main house and I followed. The stupid book I was supposed to write in was heavy as hell.

Caster didn’t knock on the wood siding of the house or rustle the thick tarp working as a door like I expected but strode right through like he owned the place. It’s not that I was cautious by nature, but being in another world had opened me up to a whole nother set of cultural and gender expectations. Duke and Fever had both been to Earth, but his staff hadn’t, and I’d had to learn the hard way what was considered ruse and what was considered polite. Had to—bah! That made it seem like I wasn’t still learning it, which trust me, I was.

My enterance into the house was that of a mouse peaking it’s head out of it’s hole. I watched Caster place the back of his hand to his head and bend to a centaur who reminded me of an Idris Elba look alikelounging across from him, who I guessed was the owner of the house.

“Rain,” my partner greeted. “Duke sent us to see how the new chief fairs.”

Rain—who I was guessing was the chief—smiled places the back of his hand to his head, did that weird bow thing, and then gestured to a pillow formation in front of him. “Please. Sit.”

While Caster took a seat, I stood and tried my hardest not to fidget. Was I just supposed to stand here? Was I not even supposed to be here? My roll had never really been disgusted, and not for the first time I felt out of place. The scenery didn’t help much either. The house was shaped like a giant rectangle with flaps separating what looked like three main rooms. Smells were wafting out of the room to my left and I thought that had to be the kitchen. We were obviously in the living room, a circle of sunlight coming down from a hole in the sky being the only illumination, and it didn’t extend much further than the grouping of pillows situated in top of a wide rug. Looked nice though, very Middle East meets farm house.

“I’ve brought my new partner,” Caster said suddenly, drawing me back to the men. “Her name is Tilly.”

Slapping the back of my hand against my head quickly, I made a terrible effort at a bow. Parroting had become a daily sport, and so far I was still sucking at it.

“Drink?” Rain offered, ignoring me as i sat next to Caster and pulled the Bookkeeper book out of my satchel.

Caster placed a hand over his heart. “I couldn't.”

“You must.”

“Only if you let me pour.”

Rain smiled brightly and snapped his fingers. A centaurian woman around thirty emerged from behind the kitchen flap instantly and set down a tray with two cups directly between the men. I noticed there wasn’t a cup for me. As the woman went back and the flap closed I could hear whispers, light and feminine.

Maybe I should be in the kitchen? I thought back to the woman who brought the tea, she hadn’t looked at either of the men as she’d set them down. And now that I remembered, when we had been coming into the village, the woman and men had been separate. No couples visible. Deciding that I’d rather be careful than disrespectful, I lowered my gaze away from the men and concentrated on the book in my lap.

“Lift your head, Matilda,” Casper said evenly as he poured the steaming drink high, liquid like black tar flowed to the wooden cups. “You are not a slave.”

Oh, this world still has slaves. I tried to brush off the fear that trailed. Being Black and hearing the word “slave” did weird things to me. It’s not like my family had ever been slaves (I was first generation Sierra Leone and the fact that my mother was part Egyptian part British didn’t hurt my pigment either) but I was still considered African American, and it wasn’t like racists had that distinction when attacking you.

Caster passed one of the filled cups to Rain and took one for himself. The men carefully touched rims, no drink higher than the other, before Rain tossed his back. Caster handed me the cup. “Drink.”

Didn’t have to tell me twice. I tossed back the liquid and coughed as it burned down my throat. Ugh, it was like choking down crude oil. I gagged and hacked for a good minute before finally speaking, “Blech, that tasted like wet ass.”

“Maybe to you, human,” Rain interjected, placing his cup down with a hard click, “but it is tradition.”

I looked at him, my mouth faster than my brain. “One that needs to end.”

Shit! My eyes widened. “Sorry, I mean—It’s just—”

“How long since your father’s death again, Rain? Tree ralph?” Caster asked suddenly.

Rain looked at Caster and my rudeness and ignorance was quickly forgotten. I reached for the book in my bag and cracked it open, shuffling through the pages to find a blank one. I was looking for the pen I’d thrown in the sack, when Rain started to talk, “And a click.”

Caster refilled Rain’s cup and murmured, “Good centaur.”

Rain lifted his cup in agreement. “The best.”

Tree (3) and a click? Look up click, I wrote down when I finally found my pen. Old centaur in charge was good. Fever had never really explained what I was supposed to write in the Bookkeeper Book. Facts and anything I heard were my guess.

“When will the Gathering be held?” Caster asked.

“Secret and Moon are marrying in opie ralp, and there are opie more ceremonies after that. Thunder, Lightening, and I will hold it in a mirth and a click.”

The names spoke of an unimaginative parent, and pretty much told me that Rain had two brothers. “If you don’t mind me asking,” I interrupted. “What’s the Gathering?”

Caster placed a heavy hand on my leg, which I took to mean ‘this is the only question you ever ask’. However, his words were soft, “I think they call it a funeral on Earth.”

Oh. I bent my head and scribbled, Gathering in a mirth (month)? Opie (2) more events. Confirm. Wedding for Moon and Secret marrying in opie (2) ralph (weeks). It occurred to me as I finished my last sentence that only Fever and Duke would be able to read what I wrote, if they learned to read English. Taking the pen, I jotted down on my skin, Learn to write the language here.

It was another few minutes of the men talking and me writing, before the visit was done. Rain rose first and Caster and I followed. “You will come to the Gathering, won’t you, Caster?”

The incubus smiled tightly. “It might not be the best . . . environment for me.”

The centaur turned to me. “Send your proteges in your stead.”

“We will see.”

“Yes,” Rain returned silkily as he snapped his fingers and a woman appeared to hustle us out. “We will.”

I penned a quick note in the book, Tilly to attend Gathering. Dangerous? The conversation didn’t sound like it would be softly muttered condolences and weeping family members. There was no time to ask Caster though, as he strode past the other houses and back to our bikes. I fumbled to put away the book and catch up to him. Foals played by our bikes, running small fingers over the leather seat.

“It will eat you,” Caster called out to the children.

They jumped back and he laughed, reaching the bikes and picking up a particularly small centaur. “Bell, how are you?”

“As pleased as the sun.” The filly blushed and eyed the bike. “It will not eat me, will it?”

“No, dearheart,” he reassured. “It will not.”

I was touched by the scene. Caster didn’t seem like the type to be nice to children, but here he was. When I finally reached the bikes and his side, most of the other foals were gone, and Caster was releasing the filly from his arms. “Tell your mother and father I am sorry I could not stop by.”

The child nodded and raced off. “Who was that?”

Caster raised his eyebrow and climbed on the bike. “Lightning’s daughter.”

“I would like to have met her.”

“You couldn’t have.”

“Why not?”

He sighed and waved to my bike, the one sitting with me not on it. I took the hint. “Because you haven’t met her mother and father. And it’s not only rude but dangerous to approach a centurion child without knowing their parents.”

I popped that tidbit of information on my list, typed in the code to start the bike, and slapped on my helmet. “Understood.”

***

“Next are the cascading nymphs, right?” I yelled over the engines as the road expanded enough to allow Caster and I to ride side by side.

He threw me a ‘shut the hell up’ look and I glared at him. So far he’d barely tolerated me and I’d done nothing to deserve it. Well, maybe not nothing, but it wasn’t like I was going out of my way to be a stupid human. I knew Americans were notorious for expecting others to conform to our ways, but I wasn’t like that. I got that I was in a new place, with new people, and my way was almost always the wrong way. A little slack from him would be nice.

“Please.” I’d rather have choked on poison then have said the word, but as there wasn’t arsenic nearby, I didn’t have a choice.

“Yes.”

“Why are we going there exactly?” That hadn’t really been discussed. In fact, all he’d said was “We’re going to the cascading nymphs” then sped away from the centaur camp. That had been half an hour ago, and I was no closer to figuring out what the hell that meant now than I was then. Thank goodness for Duke and his massive library, I could always look it up later.

“Swipe says she saw something. The messenger she sent wasn’t specific enough, so we’re confirming her report.”

“Okay.” That wasn’t so hard, assuming Swipe was a nymph and not a Spanish speaking fox who’d forgotten to add the R on the end of her name.

The road thinned again, and I was forced to ride behind him. It wasn’t so bad though. The scenery was gorgeous and it was hard to feel anything but happy when I looked around. Patchworked hills in an array of colors spread across the landscape, like someone’s aging grandmother who was obsessed with garage sales had just collected all the patterns she could find, sewn them together, and threw them over the earth.

I winced as the book in my satchel smacked my side on a particularly quick drop. If the road hadn’t been mimicking a rollercoaster ride, everything would be perfect. “How much farther is it?” I asked, forcing back a gag as my stomach jumped up to my throat and then plummet back down.

“You won’t understand even if I tell you.”

Note to self: learn stupid directions. “Fine.”

Breathing deeply, I closed my eyes for two counts—not one of my finer moments considering I was on a motorcycle—and when I opened them a forest had sprouted up in front of me. Just like that. Trees in all shapes, colors, and sizes reached for the sky on a hill that looked more like a zit.

Caster slowed his bike and I fumbled to do the same. He curved around the hill for a few more seconds before stopping his bike beside a cave. I followed and was a second behind him as I turned off the engine, threw my leg over the side, and sidled up to him.

“Is this it?” I looked up at the vertical climb then back to my flats. They were the only shoes I had, though Fever had said she’d take me into the village to get get some more along with some clothes of my own. I’d just been putting off the journey because . . . if I looked in the mirror and saw new clothes and new shoes, I feared I’d see a new me too, and I wasn’t ready to change. I was human; and even if that wasn’t denoted by my clothes, I felt like it was.

“Yes. Now listen.”

His voice was serious and I found myself looking up at him. His eyes bored into mine, and something swiveled in their depths. A shiver wracked my form, but I forced it down. It’s nothing. “I’m listening.”

“You need to keep your eyes closed when we talk to Swipe. Nymphs have two forms: that of a plant and that of a human-like creature. If you look at them directly when they are in their human form, they revert to their plant form permanently. Do you understand?”

I nodded. “Sort of like Medusa.”

“Who?”

“Greek mythology.” I waved my hand. “It’s nothing. But, um, how will I write if I can’t open my eyes?”

“You can write when we get back. Besides, it’s better if we don’t bring a lot with us.” So saying, he threw off the weapons around his waist, ones I’d thought looked pretty, but after I heard them ding against the bike, knew they weren’t just for show. He pressed a button on the bike and the seat popped up, allowing him to stow everything, before closing.

I felt around my own bike until I heard the switch click and the seat spring back. “Should I leave the book?”

“That is what I said.”

I bit my cheek on a sassy retort and stuffed the book in the compartment. “Okay, I’m ready.”

We started through the cave. I blinked at the dark interior, quickly losing Caster. “Hey.” I reached blindly for him. “I can’t see any—ah!”

I could hear the incubus grind his teeth. “Tilly.”

“Please tell me that wasn’t your dick.” Or tell me it was. I flushed at my thoughts and pinched my arm. Caster might be hot, but he was an alien. We didn’t even speak the same language, I doubted he had the same body parts. But if he did . . .

No! I mentally yelled at myself as I plastered my hands to my side. None of that now.

“Follow me and don’t touch anything,” he stressed. “Lights will come on soon enough.”

I nodded and blindly trailed after him. It was hard going for a few seconds, especially since I’d told myself I would rather faceplant than accidentally touch anything of Caster’s again. But after a minute lights did come on, though they weren’t the ones I thought would.

From every wall of the cave, mellow blue lights glowed, shifting every so often so it looked like it was raining. I stepped close to the wall and reached out for what I thought were glowing insects.

“What did I just say?” Caster roared, locking his hand around my wrist. I flinched back at the same moment the wall surged out at me, blue lights parting like the jaws of a wild animal. They didn’t get far, only an inch or two, before retreating back into the wall, but it was enough to set off a panic attack.

Breathing erratically, I crouched. If he’d been a second late, I wouldn’t have had a hand. Maybe not a body either if the thing had pulled me close and all the lights had done the same move. I could have died.

Caster bent in front of me, his hands moving to my shoulder. “You’re safe.”

No I wasn’t. I wasn’t safe at all. Bookkeeper? What the hell was I thinking? My penmanship was awful, and the closest I’d gotten to an adventure was in books.

“Tilly.” He shook me violently, teeth rattling in the cavern of my mouth. “Duke wouldn’t have let you come with me if he didn’t think you were ready. Don’t prove him wrong now.”

Those weren’t exactly the words I wanted to hear, but they had the desired effect. It made me think of something else beside my near-death experience or the fact that I might very likely die on a strange planet because—ya know, curiosity killed the cat.

I thought about the panic attack I’d had when a camp counselor accidentally gave me his ecstasy instead of the aspirin I’d needed. I’d had to realize that things would happen, things I couldn’t control, and instead of panicking, I’d have to move past them. And part of passing them was also living with them, accepting them.

Death happens to everyone, I reminded myself. Doesn’t mean it’s scary. And maybe I wouldn’t have died, but just lost an arm. They could have robot arms here. I’d like that.

A small laugh erupted from my lips as I calmed myself with absurdity. It helped. Another second of thinking about all the things I could do with a robot arm—there were a lot—and I was past the panic. I blew out a long breath and looked up at Caster, plastering a smile on. “Duke wasn’t wrong.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes unfathomable, before rising slowly and holding out his hand for me. “Good.” I took it and he pulled me up. “But just because you didn’t prove Duke wrong, doesn’t mean that you’ve done the same for me,” he added pointedly.

“Jackass.”

“Excuse me?”

“Jack. Ass,” I said slowly.

Shaking his head, Caster let go of my hand and started ahead. “Don’t touch anything. I won’t say it again.”

He didn’t have to tell me a third time.

It was a few more minutes of walking the deadly bug-light hallways before we came to what I assumed was the center of the mountain and a very large circular staircase. It didn’t look like it was man-made, but rather part of the mountain itself. Small flowers dotted each step, and handrails twisted and curved into both each other and the large tree in the center.

Caster started to walk, and I followed after him, stumbling a few times as the flowers swayed, opened, and closed. After about five flights, we reached the top. The large log running up the center of the stairs reached further up and became branches and twigs, pulled low to the ground by hot pink flowers. I could imagine a man getting down on one knee and proposing to the love of his life while cameras rolled a few feet away.

We stopped just a few paces from the steps and he sat down on the ground. I rocked on my heels, feeling the squishy grass beneath the soles of my shoes. It was damp. Damn.

“Can I stand?”

He closed his eyes, tucked his legs in, and placed his hands, palms up, on his bent knees. I took his silence as a “no” and sat, mimicking his position. Cold, wet ground saturated my leggings and I grumbled and shifted until the sharp click of Caster’s tongue quieted me.

We sat like that long enough for my muscles to stiffen and I shifted uncomfortably. “How long are we—”

“Quiet,” Caster snapped. “And keep your eyes closed. Don’t open them until I say so.”

My jaw reverberated as my teeth clacked together. I made another mental note to talk to Duke about another partner. It was obvious Caster didn’t like me, and I had no wish to be with a guy who found it hard to work with me.

After a few more minutes, I felt the slightest breeze around my shoulder and shivered. “Caster?” a soft voice asked. It reminded me of Marilyn Monroe’s wispy cadence.

“Swipe,” Caster acknowledged as I dutifully remained quiet and mentally started to take notes. “You called about a sighting?”

“I did.”

“What did you see?”

“I saw—I’m not sure what I saw.” She paused as if contemplating before continuing slowly, “It was at a distance. Humanoids being led on a chain.”

I could hear the frown in Caster’s voice, “Demons? Did you get their caste markings?”

There was a slight breeze, and something soft brushed my arm. I think it was hair, though it felt more like flower petals. “I’m not sure what they were. I only know they were bipedal, and built much like you two.”

“Could you tell if they were young?”

The question struck me as odd until I remembered the missing teenagers. Some of the Duke’s staff had talked about it and Fever had mentioned it a time or two. It would make sense that Caster would ask. I had a gruesome thought: what if the kids were being kidnapped and sold into slavery?

“If you are asking if they were the children who’ve disappeared,” Swipe continued. “I could not tell. You now know everything I know.”

“Nothing else?”

“No.”

Caster waited a second before letting out a long sigh. “The lord of Ramous thanks you, and offers this small token of appreciation.”

I heard something jingle. Money?

“I accept,” Swipe said softly. “‘Til Mother calls us home.”

“‘Til then.”

There was a shift in the air, but I waited another few seconds to ask my question. “Is she gone?”

“Yes.”

I bit my lip and clenched my fists. “Well, can I open my freakin’ eyes?”

There was a long pause and I thought maybe he didn’t hear me. I opened my mouth again when he finally spoke. “Yes.”

My eyes popped open and I looked around. Caster was standing in front of me, staring hard and Swipe was nowhere to be found. Or maybe she was. There were a lot of trees, and we were in a tree, so . . . “That’s it?”

“Yes.” He turned on his heel and started down the stairs without a backward glance. I scrambled up, feeling soggy and wet, and nearly tripped on a root. Cursing, I quickly followed after him.

“What should I write down?” I asked, splitting my time watching him and the stairs.

Caster practically skipped down the steps, reaching the bottom before I’d gotten to the third level. When he was nearing the exit I yelled at him to stop. The guy ran like an Olympic athlete, and I couldn’t keep up. Plus the twisted stairs and light-bug infested cave freaked me out. There was no way in hell he was leaving me alone. “What’s the rush?”

His back stiffened and I could hear him grind his teeth. “You’ve been trained. This is the field. Keep asking questions and I’ll send you back to Fever.”

Pause. What did he just say to me? I stopped on the second to last step, tilted my head and stared at him like he’d lost his mind. He must have. “What did you just say?”

He never turned around. “You heard me.”

Taking a few calming breaths, I used the space it took me to get to him to choose my words carefully. But when I opened my mouth, ‘careful’ wasn’t exactly what came out. “Why are you being such an asshole?”

“I’m not,” he growled, finally turning around to face me.

“Oh, yes you are.” I jabbed a finger at his chest. “This is my first day. And I’m not even from here—I’m from another planet—”

“As if any of us could forget.”

“Seriously! What the hell is your problem?”

“Your smell.”

“Are you saying I stink?”

“No.” Caster took a step toward me and I felt the space between us shift. Knowing my luck, I’d probably said something offensive or used some kind of annoy incubi shower gel. His pupils dilated and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. When he spoke, his voice was a dark rumble reminding me again of a vibrator. “You smell delicious. Like a hot, wet fuck on a sunny hoax.”

That had to be number one on the top ten list of crazy things I’d heard, and I’d spent nearly the last month on an alien planet. How did he want me to respond to that little pronouncement? Hell, I couldn’t even think of a response. My mouth opened, shut, and mimicked a fish out of water for a few seconds before I finally managed to squeak out a “Thanks?”

His pupils expanded even more, and the tattoos covering his skin seemed to swirl. Actually, his entire body seemed to darken, like tea that had set out too long. Caster took another step toward me. “You’ll let me fuck you.”

Well, that took a turn for the I’m-not-sure-how-to-handle-this-conversation. Holding my hands up, I skirted the bug wall, careful not to touch it, and managed to have my back to the entrance. “Now wait a second. You were the one who said we weren’t going to have sex.”

A part of me, the whorish one, was screaming in my head to peel off my pants, rip off my shirt, and ride him until one or both of us was chafed. I tried really hard to ignore that part. Last thing I needed was to get pregnant with some Alien style baby and end up having it eat through my stomach and kill me, or worse. The incubus in front of me, stalking me like I was a lamb and he was a wolf, looked like he could do much worse.

“Things change.”

I continued to inch back, scared that if I made an all out run for it, he’d think it was a chase and bring me down. While he didn’t look like he’d rape me, the fear was still there, along with an even deeper fear that said the feelings of pain, shame, and humiliation that would come from rape wouldn’t take over me because the incubus would never let them. Somehow he’d make it consensual, and when the dust settled, I’d hate myself even more for loving every minute of it.

“Caster—”

“Ah, the way you say my name—” His eyes closed and his neck swiveled. When he opened his eyes again they were almost black. “—makes my dick hard.”

I felt the edge of the opening with my toe and thanked my lucky stars. Whatever was happening to him was affecting the hell out of me too. My breasts were heavier, like they’d gone up a cup size, and tender as all get out. Same with my clit, except it was also wet and throbbed horribly. All I wanted to do was throw caution to the wind and myself at him and give in to the crazy sexual desire pushing at me on all sides.

“I’m not going to have sex with you,” I said with far more certainty than I felt.

His smile was fanged and patient. “I think you’ll reconsider.”

He was within arm’s reach of me when I fell back and out of the cave. I rolled to the floor, cursing the entire time, but something stopped me. Something that felt suspiciously like a pair of legs. Had Caster been able to move that fast?

“Look what we have here,” a voice boomed above me, definitely not Caster.

I opened my eyes to find three . . . uh, werewolves, I think, surrounding me. They looked like werewolves. Fangs, tails, pointed ears, slitted eyes, and hairy, but I’d thought that werewolves were either one or the other—wolf or man. These things looked mid-change.

“Bookkeepers,” the werewolf to the left laughed deeply, “ripe for the picking.”

Scrambling up and away from the men, I felt the ground jump for a second and looked over my shoulder to find Caster a few feet away from me, knees bent, eyes trained on the wolves with his lips drawn back in a snarl.

He made the first move. Jumped over me and kicked one of the wolves square in the chest. The guy flew fast into a tree, making the trunk vibrate with the impact. I crawled on my hands and knees away from the action, content to hide and let the boys duke it out, when a hand wrapped around my ankle. “Think I could get a pretty price for you, human.”

My body flipped instinctively, other foot turning and catching the guy in the face. Blood spurted from his mouth, and he released me instantly. Oh, that’s right! I’d forgotten that Fever had spent the last four weeks whipping my ass into shape morning, noon, and night. Killing the fire demon had been my recurring fantasy for awhile, especially when she pulled sneak attacks. Now I just wanted to kiss her feet and thank her for everything.

Hopping up, I shifted to the werewolf who’d attacked me. He was sitting on the ground, rubbing his jaw and glaring murder at me. In one swift move, he got to his feet. “I’ll fuck the shit out of you before the delivery.”

My smile was all ferocious feminist. “Never.”

While Caster practically ripped the other two werewolves apart with his hands, I beat mine down to a pulp. Punching and kicking, evading and striking. Fever was a hundred times better than this guy and the few times he did get a hit in felt like love taps. Again the need to kill the fire demon and kiss her rumbled through my head, before I decided on kissing while swiping the wolf’s legs out from under him and pressing my shoe on his windpipe.

A deafening howl pierced the fight, jarring me and giving the wolf time to throw me off. I covered my ears and Caster did the same, giving the wolves plenty of time to drag their sorry asses back to whatever hell hole they’d crawled up from.

“Next time,” the werewolf I’d been fighting sneered loudly over the howling. “Next time.”

The howling seemed to get louder, driving me to my knees and making my eyes cross. God, just make it stop! I was in the I-think-my-ears-are-bleeding stage when it finally cut with the swiftness of a light switch being flipped off. Panting harshly with my knees buried in the mushy dirt of the ground, I stared at Caster over the forest floor and watched his pupils slowly contract back to their normal size. The air wasn’t charged anymore, and the weird heat that seemed to cross between us like kindling wasn’t there. In it’s place though was surreal fear mixed with a surprising amount of pride. I wasn’t dead. Yay for me!

“What the hell just happened?”

“We were attacked.”

Obviously. “But why? I get that we’re bookkeepers, but we didn’t have books on us. And our bikes are right here! Fully intact. Doesn’t even look like they touched ‘em.”

My eyes shifted left and right, scanning the small forest they’d escaped into. I knew there was nothing past it, just grass-covered hills. “We should go after them?” I said before remembering I was a Women’s Studies human. Too much Alias and Buffy the Vampire Slayer hadn’t just melted my brain but molded it into a badass fight chick. My body, of course, didn’t get molded with it.

“We’re not going after them,” Caster grumbled, stomping over to his bike.

“We could.” I had faith in my skills now that I knew Fever hadn’t just been torturing me.

“We won’t. We don’t know their numbers. And the cry just now was from an Alpha. Fighting him is death assured.” He swung his leg over and settled on the bike, a wince contorting his face as he lifted up on the seat and adjusted himself.

My eyes zoomed to where his hand moved between his legs. Bad idea. The crazy feeling of lust hit me in the sweet spot, blowing away the fear eating at me. Caster swung his head toward me, expression so thunderous he should have been a cloud. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

“What?”

“If I get off this bike,” he growled, running his eyes down my body. “Then I’m fucking you.”

I shifted uncomfortably on the ground, deciding that Caster was right and I should just be happy to be alive. Scratch that—ecstatic! Dragging myself off the forest floor, I tried to dust off the worst of the mud and leaves as I watched toward my bike, picking out leaves from my curls as I went. What I wouldn’t do for a hot oil treatment and a blow out. “Are you still on about that?”

“It’s my nature.”

“Pfft. It’s your dick.”

“I’m an incubus.”

“And I’m a human!” I sighed, throwing my arms up as I settled on the bike seat. “Where I come from, men get no reason boners and women get no reason wet all the time. So, I’m wet. It’s not like I’m telling you I’m raring to go. Get over yourself.”

Plopping my helmet on my head, I didn’t even wait for it to conform to my head before I turned off the bike and sped ahead of him. I’d had my breaking point weeks ago, and I wasn’t in the habit of repeating things that didn’t work. So I’d almost died, so I had cold mud crusting on my clothes, so Caster was a honry asshole who made me horny just being around him. If I lost my shit again and God forbid wrecked the bike, I’d have hell to pay. Trashing Tessa’s kitchen had put me on her shit list comprised of flavourless means that all looked the same color and smelled worse than puke on a hot sidewalk for three days, and I bet that crashing one of the Bookkeeper’s bikes would put me on an even worse list.

Still, it wasn’t like fury had an off switch.

The drive back to Duke’s compound took a little longer because I didn’t know where I was going, and Caster had been fine to let me angry-drive for a while before pulling in front of me and guiding us home. The thorny vine security system uncurled itself and let us pass as we slowed our bikes to a crawl and moseyed into the courtyard.

Still angry, both at myself at my situation and at Caster, being gentle with the bike and the book weren’t high on my list of to dos. I yanked my helmet off, slammed it down, and twisted the satchel slung across my body to the back, smacking my butt with the flat of the tomb while I did it.

“We need to talk, Matilda.”

I was surprised he even knew my name, and not a bit happy with the way he said it. Cocking my hips, I gave Caster my best fuck-with-me-if-you-wanna stare. “Oh yeah?”

He adjusted on the bike but made no move to get off. “I’ll continue working with you—”

“Not like you had a choice.”

“—As long as you control yourself. I am an incubus, not just some puny human man. You need to learn the difference.”

“Control myself?” Like I was the one threatening to have sex with people left and right.

“Next time you get wet,” he said softly. too softly, “I can’t be faulted for my actions.”

Three and a half year years of gender studies and women’s rights came pouring out of my mouth in a torrent of outrage and indignation, “You choose to let yourself go and give into your baser male instincts because you feel entitled and emboldened by the three inches between your legs to lay claim to something that was never and will never be yours. Lust is not an excuse to force yourself on someone, and neither is that other someone smelling a certain way invitation to do anything. If I ever choose to sleep with you, it will be mutual, of my own volition; yes, will come out of my mouth to let you know I’m ready. No is not foreplay, it’s not some reverse version of yes, and it’s not a suggestion. Next time I get wet, I get wet. That shouldn’t affect you in any shape or form considering it’s my body and my right to do whatever I want with it. And it’ll be a cold day in hell before I do you.”

With that, I turned and walked into the house, ready to eat whatever the equivalent of either ice cream or chocolate was in this world. His strangled half shout didn’t even phase me, “It’s more than three inches!”

That’s all he’d heard? Men. “Keep telling yourself that,” I yelled back.