Page 8 of Flock Around and Find Out (Flocking It Up #3)

Three hours later and I was ready to ring Knot’s neck for sending me on this little errand. I sat on the floor, my back to a shelf, taking a break.

At least I had a nice view. I watched Ruben heading up the ladder, giving me a fantastic angle to see his ass.

He might have appeared older than the other men I knew, but he sure didn’t let that stop him. His ass was faultless, and I wondered for a moment if he’d had those pants tailored just to showcase it like the piece of artwork it was.

I pictured him walking in and explaining to the tailor that he wanted his assets highlighted to their full glory, and fuck if that tailor didn’t do the job perfectly.

Chef’s kiss.

“You know, my senses are good enough to feel when I am being stared at,” Ruben called down as he peered at the books on the top shelf.

“Not my fault your ass looks like that in those pants,” I called back.

He turned his head, dangling on the ladder in a way that would have made me nervous if it were anyone else.

If anyone could keep themselves steady there—or be just fine after a fall—it would be Ruben.

It would have to be Ruben, because I sure as fuck couldn’t drag him out of there. He was far too heavy.

“Do you always talk like that?” he asked, his tone more curious than scolding for once.

“Like what?”

“So forward? Are you like this with everyone? Do you actually mean any of the things you say, or is it merely a game to you?” He must have read my expression from that distance, because he added, “I’m not faulting you. I just want to know how to read the things you say, how to understand how seriously I should take them.”

I blew out a breath, thankful to have him so far away for this conversation. It felt easier to talk to him when he wasn’t quite as overwhelming.

And I could still see his ass, so that helped, too.

“I’ve never really seen a reason to be lady-like, okay? That whole play it coy thing, that never really was my thing. I never did it well. So, I prefer to just say what I think. If people don’t like it, well, they don’t really like me. I’d prefer to know that upfront.”

“So it isn’t just a joke?”

“I mean, I think I’m pretty funny a lot of the time, sure, but I’m not going to say things like that if I don’t mean them.”

He seemed to consider my words, to mull them over before descending the ladder and moving to the next without addressing it further.

I didn’t know if I’d given the answer he’d been looking for or not. His expression gave away so little, I couldn’t be sure. He at least didn’t seem less happy than he’d been to start with, so that was a good thing, right?

My legs ached from the up and down, and I figured this was one of those times when people had to do according to their skills. If we were talking about squeezing into a tiny space, well, me and my crow were absolutely the right choice. If we were talking endurance and brute strength, well, that was Ruben’s department.

However, after another twenty minutes, I figured I was as rested as I could hope for. Instead of climbing back up, though, I tried to take a general view of what was around us.

Left. Knot was always mysterious, rarely gave me exactly what I wanted, but usually gave me what I needed. He wouldn’t have sent me here if he didn’t think it would help.

Which meant he wouldn’t tell me to come here unless he knew the item I needed was here. So…where was it?

I thought back to his answers, to the way he phrased things, never direct, always slightly skewed. I’d assumed that left and on top meant the top left of the shelf, but what if it didn’t?

What if he’d intended something far less obvious?

“Do you have a section of books that are different from here?” I called up to Ruben.

“What do you mean?”

“Books that are either set to be destroyed or sent out or something. I don’t know—anything that makes them put aside?”

He darted his gaze away for a moment, then widened his eyes. “We have a section for unsorted books, ones that need to be gone through and categorized. We call them the Left Behind, since they are often taken from the archives of others.”

“Left,” I said with a chuckle as Ruben came down.

Leave it to Knot to tell me everything I need and still do it the most annoying way possible.

I followed Ruben past the shelves to a back room, only to find stacks of books on tables, in boxes, all over with no real discernable order. Dust covered many of them. “Guess you don’t go through these that much, huh?”

“We used to have a few Justices dedicated to this work, but over the years it fell out of fashion. I guess most decided that we didn’t need to worry about that, that we knew everything we needed to know. This has become a much less supported position for the past fifty years or so.”

Yellow. I peered around the space. Yellow and at the top meant it couldn’t have been at the bottom of a pile, right? Not tucked inside a box somewhere, hidden away.

In the corner, I saw a bright yellow book on the top of a precarious pile, the sort of pile that seemed to defy gravity. Still, it was the only yellow I spotted.

I maneuvered through the crowded space, careful to only touch that book and not the beige, questionable, possibly human skin cover beside it.

It was in English, something that shocked me, and the cover of it read, The Source.

“I think I’ve found it.” I held it up to show Ruben, the dust cascading off and making me cough.

Ruben made his way over and took the book from me. “This hasn’t been touched in at least thirty years, given the state. How could he have known it was here?”

“Maybe he saw it in a vision? He seems to be able to communicate through visions, so maybe he can like…astral project?”

“No. I am fairly certain he was here.”

Before I could ask Ruben why, he twisted the book to show a makeshift bookmark placed between two pages—a lollipop wrapper.

Yeah, that suggested he’d been here in person. I doubted few others would be able to—let alone want to—sneak into a place like this and have themselves a piece of candy.

That was pure Knot behavior right there.

I opened the book to the section marked—to find nothing but a rather well drawn cartoon of a dog urinating on what had to be the crystal in the main council chambers.

Yep, that was him.

It made me feel a little better, though. I laughed.

“What is so funny?”

“If we’d opened this book—that hasn’t been touched in thirty years—and found exactly what we needed I would have been really concerned. That would have been like Knot could see into the future, that he knew what was going to happen. I don’t like the idea that he’s that powerful. I much prefer the idea that it was sheer chance that he could help, that he was breaking in and defacing precious ancient texts and had no idea it might prove useful later.”

Ruben ran his finger across the drawing. “He did it in ink. I don’t think this will ever come out. Do you have any idea how old this book is?”

“Well, I know that it’s been sitting in a dusty room for half a century—at least. I don’t think you’re all that worried about it. Now, can we just take it with us? I don’t really want to have to stay here to read it.”

“Normally we don’t allow the items here to be removed, but I can make an exception this time. It’s almost midnight—let’s get out of here.”

And that sounded like the first good plan he’d had.

* * * *

I flopped down on the large bed, suddenly feeling every year of my age all at once. My back ached as though each vertebra in it ground against the one on top and the one below. It made it painful to sit, to stand, to exist.

Which meant getting to stop here for the night—even if it was already two in the morning—sounded like a fan-fucking-tastic idea to me.

We’d gotten a room at a little motel along the way. It seemed to be a honeymoon destination, because all the rooms had weird themes.

Jungle. Forest. Roman. Circus.

I hadn’t cared if I had to sleep in a shoe, just so long as I could sleep.

They’d put us in Wild West, which meant the walls had cheesy western décor. A steer head above the bed—what said romance like a dead animal skull?—horseshoes everywhere, and wooden furniture that could have been out of the old prairie shows.

The only thing that made me think the room was actually perfect was the number of whips on the walls.

We could make use of those…

We got a single room, mostly because Ruben didn’t sleep much. Given that, he said a separate room was pointless, and he’d simply work while I slept. I had a feeling part of it was that he wanted to keep an eye on me, but really, what trouble could I get into?

A lot…

I went to stand, to go brush my teeth, when my calves seized up. I hissed in a sharp breath through my teeth at the cramping pain.

Ruben was there in a heartbeat, leaning down to feel the muscle.

And when he pressed on it, when it hurt more, I kicked him right in his shin for the effort. “That hurts,” I snapped.

“Why? Did you pull a muscle?”

“No, I’m just not used to exercise like that. I’m sore.”

“You’re sore from just that?”

“What, you don’t get sore?”

He shook his head. “Most Spirits don’t because we don’t grow or lose muscle the same way as humans. Minds do, I believe. It seems you are not one of the more physically superior types.”

“Physically superior,” I muttered, mocking him by raising and lowering the intonation of the words.

He shook his head as though he weren’t surprised by my little outburst. “You should take a hot bath, then rub out the knots in your muscles.” He paused. “I could help you with that if you wish. When people do it themselves, they rarely do a good enough job since they tend to avoid pain.”

“Yeah, I’m a big avoid pain person, so maybe not?”

“You will hurt far more tomorrow if you don’t take care of it tonight. I assure you that you will sleep better if you just do as I say.”

“Only if you talk dirty.”

He snorted softly then rose. “I’ll start the water. You don’t need to soak long—I know you’re tired—but some amount of hot water will help your muscles to relax and make the massage more effective.” He didn’t wait for my opinion, instead walking toward the bathroom.

The splashing of water in what sounded like a hella-deep tub came from the room, along with a delicate floral scent. Had he added some sort of bubble bath?

A place like this would probably have all sorts of goodies like that, wouldn’t it?

He came back about five minutes later. “I set out a towel for you and one of the robes the hotel had. The water is still filling, but it is deep enough to get in now.”

I got up without help—mostly because I refused to ask for it—and limped my way in.

That would have been far too shameful to let Ruben see it, especially as he strolled around the place like he was one hundred percent fine.

I closed the door behind me, then got a look at the bathroom for the first time. The tub was deep, but made of metal, like an old trough to feed horses. Other than that weirdness, the bathroom was actually pretty nice. It had a large window that opened to a private outdoor space, meaning I got to bathe and look at nature.

And for anyone with an exhibitionist kink, this was the sort of thing that would make their entire trip.

I never thought I had such a kink, but I felt like I kept discovering things about myself I never knew before. I’d say I was kink-suggestible. Even if I didn’t think I was into something, it didn’t take much for me to change my mind and decide I might just be.

I thought about the way Kelvin had watched Harrison and me, the lust in his eyes, the desire there as he’d held back and not touched.

Yeah, I guess I could understand the appeal of such a thing.

However, that was for a not sore and exhausted person. For me, I only wanted the water, maybe the massage, then hours of sleep.

Ruben had booked the room for two nights so I could sleep as late as I wanted and we wouldn’t have to worry about a checkout time.

I stripped off my clothes—it took more work than it should have—and lowered myself into the water. It was extremely hot, but Ruben was right. The moment I submerged my legs, the pain started to subside. I turned off the faucet, the tub already almost full with me in it at as well.

There were no bubbles, but the water was oddly cloudy.

“What did you put in here?” I called out.

The door opened, and I put an arm over my chest to hide my tits, but leave it to Ruben to be gentlemanly even now. He didn’t actually step into the bathroom, nor around the clouded divider, not where he could see me.

What a far cry from Kelvin, who would have been in the water with me if he had his way.

“What?” he asked.

“The water’s cloudy and smells good, but there’s no bubbles.”

“Epsom salt. It helps with sore muscles. It was scented with lavender.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” I let out a nervous laugh with no fucking idea why I felt nervous. This was Ruben, after all. There was no reason to get all shy around him. Still, somehow, this conversation felt a lot weirder while I was naked and he was fully dressed.

It reminded me of just how vulnerable I felt, and how low my defenses were. The reality was that if he took a few steps into the space, I wouldn’t have turned him away, that was for sure.

Maybe that was the real reason for my nerves, but I knew my actions only rested on what he actually tried. If he didn’t push, if he didn’t make that move, I wasn’t about to, but if he did?

Yeah, I was going for it. Not a question in my mind.

I’d let him get away with just about anything.

However, he behaved himself like the responsible bastard he was. “Tell me if you need anything. I’ll be looking through the book.” The door clicked closed when he left, and I sank deeper into the tub, until my mouth was just above the waterline.

I could always get myself off if I wanted. There was something to that idea.

I was a strong, independent woman and I could get my own orgasms, after all.

However, the memory of his reaction after I’d gotten turned on made me wonder if he’d be able to tell if I did. He wouldn’t say a word about it—that wasn’t his way—but I didn’t know if I could deal with the embarrassment if he knew what I’d been up to in here.

So I kept my hands to myself—from myself?—and finished my quick soak. The process of getting out turned out to be more daunting than getting in, however. Sure, my legs didn’t hurt so bad, but they did feel a bit like that jellied cranberry sauce that came in the cans and I pictured them just collapsing into a puddle beneath me.

To my amazement, they didn’t, and I pulled the robe around me. My hair remained up, since I wasn’t about to waste my precious time trying to dry it. I could wash it tomorrow back at home, in my own space, and when I could sit in the shower.

I walked slowly as I emerged from the bathroom. Slipping on the tile floor was probably an all-time low I didn’t know if I could come back from.

Ruben sat at the desk, his attention on the open book before him. He read it intently, so distracted he didn’t even turn to notice me.

It gave me a moment to stare at him and wonder…when had this happened?

He’d been an annoyance for so long, just my boss who got on my nerves and caused me problems—nothing more. So why exactly did I view him differently, now? When had he gone from a pain in my ass to me really wanting him to be a pain in my ass?

I couldn’t pinpoint the moment it had shifted, or even a trend. It was like dislike somehow transformed to like without me ever noticing it.

He turned his head, as though he’d just noticed my presence. A heat in his eyes caught my breath, held it there so I couldn’t move.

Is this it?

I felt strangely nervous. I wasn’t a virgin—no, I’d graduated to orgies, after all—so I had no reason to feel this sort of anxiety, but that didn’t stop it from affecting me, from rooting me in place.

His gaze moved down my body, though I knew there wasn’t much to see. I wore one of the fluffy white robes left by the hotel, which wasn’t slinky or form fitting. My legs were bare, of course, and he sure looked a lot slower when he got there.

He swallowed hard, an honest-to-god gulp, before shutting the book and rising.

“Come on,” he said, his voice tense. “I’ll help with your legs.”

Right. That was the plan. Leave it to me to completely forget about everything beyond my pussy. I wasn’t just easy, I was eager.

I went over, trying to not let it show how much my legs hurt. Not just my calves, but my thighs and even my ass. All the muscles ached, and I had a feeling they weren’t going to feel that much better for a day or two.

Still, I wasn’t about to turn down a massage.

I paused on the bed, unsure how to lie.

“Whatever makes you comfortable.”

I considered on my back, spread-eagled, but then wondered if something like that was too much for Ruben. In fact, part of me wondered if he’d go running if I tried such a blatant come-on.

Well, it was my calves mostly, right?

I lay on my front, shimmying to ensure the robe covered everything. I wore nothing beneath it, since I hadn’t packed anything. Ruben had brought a bag that included a set of clothes for tomorrow for me—no idea where he’d gotten them, and I shuddered to think what he might have picked out—but he hadn’t mentioned pajamas so I wasn’t sure there were any.

The mattress dipped down beneath his weight when he sat on the edge, beside me. He’d undone a few of the buttons of his shirt and the sleeves were still rolled up, his jacket tossed over the back of the desk chair. He’d removed his shoes, leaving him in a pair of black socks. It made him appear far more casual than I was used to seeing him.

I wondered for a moment if he ever wore casual clothing. What would that look like? I couldn’t picture it.

Did I actually like him? The idea seemed strange to me.

Then he touched my calf for the first time, digging his thumbs into the aching muscles there, and I knew it—

No, I don’t fucking like this sadistic asshole!

Despite a quick kick that I’d wanted to hit him in the face with, he caught my ankle with his other hand and held it down. “I know it hurts, but it’ll feel better soon.”

“Like hell it will. I know that people guess a lot about my proclivities, but I can assure you, I’m not that much of a masochist.”

“Trust me.”

“Why should I? I remember when you made me do that lube delivery to the nymph orgy. Anyone who does that does not deserve any sort of trust. Lube deliveries are not a trust-building activity.”

“I sent you there because I knew you could handle it. Believe it or not, I don’t coddle you like Galen or Kelvin. They both try to protect you from everything, to keep you away from the world. I knew from the start that you would need to have the skills to survive it on your own, so everything I’ve done as been to ensure you are strong enough to make it here, that you have the ability to protect yourself and not need me anymore.”

His words stilled my struggles as though they’d disconnected my pain receptors for a moment. I thought back to all the times he’d put me in situations that I wasn’t a huge fan of, the times he hadn’t rushed in when it would have been nice.

And…all the times I’d grown because of it. When I’d stood on my own and gone home—tired and hurting, at times, but on my own.

“Even those times, I never was too far. If I was worried you might not manage something, I never failed to have other things in play, to ensure that you were not entirely on your own. I know I can be difficult, that I can seem uncaring, but that isn’t how it is.”

The words were nice, but when he started working the muscle again, I had trouble believing him. Maybe he just got off on this.

Then again, who was I to fault anyone’s kinks?

So I bit my lip—though pained groans still left me—and tried to just accept the touch. Before I knew it, his words proved correct, as impossible as that seemed. It really did feel better.

The pain lessened each time he dug in, the knots looser.

“Roll over.” His voice came out husky and deep.

I froze.

“Your quads will be sore as well, and I can’t reach them like this.”

Oh. I shifted, rolling, feeling the aching through my thighs and ass—even up to my ribs from where I’d balanced on the ladders.

Maybe he had a point.

The robe remained tied securely around my front and fell low enough to not let anything show.

I could handle this, right? I wasn’t going to melt like some silly little virgin at a simple massage.

He dragged his fingertips over my knees, then down the sides to stroke the outer edge of my thigh.

And the moan I let out told me that was bullshit.

I sure as fuck wasn’t going to manage to resist shit.