Page 21 of Slaying With Sylphs (Haven Ever After #6)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CONNALL

I prep a short canvas stand for Lou as I wait for her to arrive at my office. Our second session is today after her “date” with Iggy. Last night was wonderful. We talked, and then I got a chance to touch her, to taste her, and all I know is I’m absolutely certain she’s mine.

It doesn’t matter that she’s not a wolf. I can’t imagine wanting someone any more than I want her. Every new fact I learn about her just makes me more obsessed. I want to make her a nest, even though she’s not technically an omega. I still think she’d like it, all covered in pillows and blankets. Dirk and I can stand together outside it, saying the formal words to be allowed in. A smile curls my lips as I consider how I never want to stop unraveling Lou, my sassy, bratty, perfect female.

A knock pulls me out of my thoughts. Jogging into the main area and to the front door, I swing it open. Like always, the sight of her steals my breath. She’s wearing thigh-hugging jeans and a black V-neck tee. Bracelets adorn the arm with the thrall bites.

Without thinking, I rub my fingers along the healing indentations, familiar worry rising at how she was able to heal from something nobody has ever healed from.

Lou laughs and pats my stomach. “Still fine, big guy.”

“I worry about them,” I murmur. “Nobody’s been fine like this. Nobody.” I bring my gaze to hers, memorizing every freckle as I stare at her.

Lou shrugs. “Guess I’m just something special.”

“You are.” While we’ve established this isn’t like real therapy, I still aim to make it purposeful for her. My treatment plan is meant to give her lots of opportunity to talk and take action. Priority one is identifying her emotions and giving her some semblance of control.

“Come on in.” I pull her into the room, then shut the door behind her. Pointing toward the porch, I grin. “Food’s back on the painting porch already. We’ll be out there today.”

Her grin goes mischievous. “Are we actually painting this time?”

“Yeah,” I say with a laugh. “I’m avoiding sexy times if at all possible.”

“Aww,” she whines.

Rubbing her arm, I chuckle. “We seem incapable of keeping our hands off one another, but I put together a treatment plan to work through at whatever pace you like.”

She slips forward and presses her body to mine. “And if I get distracted and need another kiss?”

I wave her toward the porch, attempting a serious look. “Then you’ll get it, Lou, if that’s what you want. But we should try to stick to the plan.”

She lifts her chin, playfully defiant, and winks at me. “As long as I get what I want, we’ll be fine.”

Chuckling, I head to the fridge and grab a couple drinks as she spins and walks out onto the porch. I join her there as she sits on a stool in front of the shorter canvas.

I hand her one of the drinks and set mine down beside my canvas. “Alright, we’re co-painting today. “I want you to focus on painting what your emotions feel like when you’re alone with your thoughts, alright?”

She nips at her lower lip. “Okay.” Amber eyes flick to my canvas. “What are you going to paint?”

Smiling, I pick up a long, chunky paintbrush. “I’m going to be painting how last night felt to me.” I point at my timer, which is set for half an hour. “We’ve got thirty minutes to do what you can. There’s no need to ‘finish.’ Just paint what you feel. We’ll spend the last quarter hour going over it.”

“Do I have to be quiet?”

She asks the question in such a huffy tone, I resist the urge to laugh and smother her with kisses.

“Not at all. Talk as much as you want.”

She picks up a skinny paintbrush and sticks it between her teeth so it pokes out of either side of her mouth. Grabbing the black paint, she deposits a glob in one of the mixing trays. Much to my surprise, she’s silent for the first fifteen minutes or so.

I keep an eye on her as I paint in broad brushstrokes. I’ve developed an obsession with her gorgeous strawberry blonde braid so I paint generous swirls of it on the canvas, interweaving the strands. I’m going to hang it in the house so I can see it all the time.

For thirty minutes, she says nothing, utterly focused on the painting. She seems to lose herself in the activity, switching between paint colors and brushing them over the canvas in confident, brash strokes. I don’t know if she has ever painted before, but she appears to be a natural.

Then again, she injects confidence into everything she does. Why should this be any different?

I keep half of my focus on my canvas, and the other half on her. Her muscles are relaxed, her scent filling the air with strawberry and tart lemon. My wolf sits calmly in my mind, interested and focused on Lou’s actions. On her scent, on how peaceful she is painting out here on the sun porch. She doesn’t even stop for snacks, despite the overflowing charcuterie tray between us.

Thirty minutes passes quickly, and when a small timer rings on my phone, she doesn’t notice. I set my brush down and take my mixing plate to the sink to clean up. When I return, Lou’s still painting feverishly on her canvas.

I tap her shoulder, and she jumps, whirling around with a fierce look. It softens when she sees me, and she laughs.

“My gods, Connall, I was in the zone, man.”

I want to correct her calling me “man.” I might look like a man from her world, but I’m all male, all wolf. I’ve gotten used to her mannerisms, and I love the human sayings she uses. Even when they don’t really apply to me.

She glances at the canvas, nipping at her lower lip as a smile turns her plump mouth upward. “How’d I do, from a therapy perspective?”

I take a step closer, focusing on her art. It’s all swirls of black and every possible shade of blue. Dashes of red punctuate it at random intervals. And every few inches, there’s a white square with black swirls across it.

“These almost look like letters.” I smile at her. “Want to elaborate?”

She nods. “Yeah, I write them to my sister, Caroline, every other night or so. I miss her so much. She’d have loved Ever. And she’d have been so proud and amazed at the lives her girls are living now. All she wanted for them was safety, health and happiness.” She looks up with a wink. “Maybe I’ll let you read them one day.”

“The triplets definitely got two of those three things,” I say with a laugh, reaching down to rub the thrall bites on her arm. “And I’d love to read the letters one day, if you want me to.”

She places her hand over mine, looking up at me fiercely. “I promise I’m fine, Connall. Truly.”

“I’ll try to stop worrying.” I rub her arm again, then stare at the canvas. “Talk to me about any meaning behind the colors you chose.”

She shrugs and turns, staring at the canvas. Her scent changes, growing harsher. It’s almost tart on my tongue.

“Honestly, I just grabbed whatever colors came to me. And then I got lost in the painting. It felt good to focus like that.”

I smile, knowing I’m about to give her homework.

“Think about what you drew,” I advise. “Next time we get together, I’d like to dive into the specific colors and shapes and talk about why you think you did them that way. Spend some time this week considering it, and I’ll do the same. We’ll compare notes.”

“Alright,” she says quietly, amber eyes moving to my painting. “What’d you paint?”

“Your hair,” I say with a laugh, reaching down to tug on the end of her long braid.

“You’re obsessed. You’re being obsessive and I’ve already got one stalker.” She pinches my side playfully, laughing when I curl into the touch instead of away like she probably thought I would.

“It’s beautiful and varied.” I tip her chin up so she stares into my eyes. “Your hair is every shade of blonde and red mixed together. It’s as diverse as you are, Lou.”

She smirks. “I knew there was a hopeless romantic somewhere in there.”

“I’m serious,” I add on. “There’s a metaphor in here somewhere about how you can be strong and vulnerable, light and dark. You can be opposite things all encompassed within one beautiful Alaya-blessed soul.”

Her smirk becomes a real smile with no sassy edge. “You think your goddess blessed me?”

“I know she did,” I murmur, stroking the side of her neck down to her exposed collarbone. “You haven’t had an easy time of things, Lou, but you’re still here. And what’s more, I believe you can still thrive despite what you’ve endured.”

She glances at her painting then back at me. The first tear falls, but she brushes it quickly away. “I hate crying.”

“Let it out.” I pull her to me and wrap my arms around her. “Let it all out, Lou. Let me shoulder it with you. Let Dirk shoulder it. We want you to be able to let the weight of your hardships go sometimes. You deserve that.”

We stand for a long time, long past the end of our “session.” She cries, and I purr, and when she finally pushes out of my hold to flash a watery smile, I suspect we’ve made real progress.

I spent all morning with Richard and Lola, prepping for them to be out of town next week on Lola’s first tour as queen. Of course, leave it to my queen to plan a few concert appearances while they’re traveling. I wish I could be there to see her play, but having her in town most of the time means I hear a lot of impromptu electric guitar. She’s a regular karaoke appearance at Bad Axe.

I’m not worried for them to be gone. In fact, I’m looking forward to it. Them being gone and me being in charge makes me feel useful, something I’ve struggled with lately. As a therapist, I remind myself that I have high expectations for my role, that I need to put less pressure on myself. Richard and Lola remind me constantly that they value my contributions. I need to take their praise to heart.

I mull that over as Dirk and I jog through the underbrush surrounding the lake, the only sounds our rapid breathing as he accompanies me on my daily rounds. I suspect it’s his way of hanging out without it being an official date. Either way, he’s been quieter than I expected, but it’s given me time to think.

The cool scent of water fills my nostrils. We’re nearly back to the lake after a long run. I slow to a walk as the trees thin out, rocks littering the familiar path, then emerge from the trees onto the rock-strewn waterline. The mer-king doesn’t like a lot of activity on the beach. Running would be highly frowned upon. It’s always struck me as odd—they’re a playful bunch as long as he’s not around.

Then again, of all monsters, mermaids have the most rigidly structured society. I’m thankful shifters aren’t quite that bad. Well, not in Ever anyhow.

Dirk is an unusually quiet presence at my back. I wonder if he’s lost in thought about last night the same way I am. We continue along the path, moving away from the water’s edge when I get an idea.

I stop, and he runs into me. Spinning in place, I level him with a stare. Sweat drips down his muscular frame, his chest rising and falling as he moves both hands to his hips.

“Run outta energy, Wolf?” His deep voice hits me square in the chest. Before I even knew how he felt about me, I liked his teasing. Liked the way it made me feel, the way he’d look at me and Lou both. I realize that now. It’s why I never hated him for pursuing her, because I liked him, even then.

I stalk forward until I can plant a hand on his chest.

He looks up, shocked. But I push until his back hits a tree. And then I bring one hand up above his head, leaning in the same way I do with Lou. I’m testing something I haven’t tried yet. But the reality is, the moment Dirk told me how he felt, I haven’t been able to stop thinking of ways I’d like to touch him.

He lifts his chin, giving me the same bratty smile Lou does when I play with her. “What are yeh do?—”

I silence his snark with the slant of my mouth over his, tongue sliding deep to curl around his. Then I suck, pulling his tongue between my lips as lightning flares between my thighs. This is hot for me in a way I could never have expected.

Shoving forward harder, I force his head back, bringing my hand to cup his jaw. I grip him hard, forcing his mouth open as I move the other direction, taking his lips with rough, ragged nips and bites as I battle the need to do something else, something more.

He groans and breaks the kiss, eyes flashing with heat as I bring my thumb up over his plump lips. When I slide it between his teeth, he swirls his tongue around it, and precum spurts from me.

“More,” I command, pushing my digit all the way into his mouth.

When he hollows his cheeks around it, I grunt from the heat. “Dirk,” I moan.

He shifts backward, licking a path up the bottom of my thumb as he cocks his head to the side and gives me a wicked look. “Nobody out here to see us if we take this farther, Wolf.”

I know what he means, but I want to be clear that I’m not afraid.

And I’m not ashamed.

“I don’t feel the need to hide you,” I say confidently.

“Are yeh an exhibitionist, Wolf?” His grin is practically feral.

“Not really,” I admit. “I didn’t want you to think I only wanted to touch you when nobody would find out.”

He smirks and reaches down, cupping my dick through my jeans. “Know why that is, Wolf?”

I bend down and hover my lips above his again. “Say it. Remind me.”

“Because you’re mine,” he hisses, fingers clenching playfully around my sack.

I throw my head back and growl. He feels so fucking good. I could come like this, from nothing more than a kiss, a tease and the hint of something more.

He reaches down and rips my jeans open, shoving his hand down them.

A gasp bursts from me at his cool touch. He rolls my sack in one hand, leaning forward to lick a hard path up my neck as I marvel at how different his touch is from Lou’s. More forceful, more demanding. She’s all soft, receiving energy even when she’s being sassy. He’s something else entirely. Something dark and deviant, something that pushes and pulls me until I’m right where he wants.

I’ve always preferred to be the more dominant partner. It’s why I fucking love dominating Lou. But with Dirk, it’s…different.

“Do yeh wanna come, Wolf?” he growls into my skin. A sharp nip along my collarbone pulls my wolf to the surface.

I lift my head and stare at him, bringing my forehead to his. “Yes.”

“Say please.” He pinches the tip of my cock until I whine and cry out.

I’ve never said please in the bedroom. Never asked someone for something. I’m always the one in charge. The word feels weird on my tongue.

“Say it,” he demands, gripping my rigid length and stroking. His fingers are cool but rough, pulling heat through me as I fight not to come too fast. His stroking becomes faster, more insistent as I fight against rising pleasure.

“Wolf,” he teases, “let yer handsome mate hear how much yeh’d like to come in his hand.”

“Please,” I grunt out.

“Please what?”

Does he want me to say what I think he does? That he’s my mate? That I suspect he’s right because my interest in him is becoming an obsession?

“Please, mate,” I whisper.

Shock courses through me, realization slapping me at how good it feels to call him that. It feels right. He feels right. Even without Lou here between us.

Dirk drops to his knees and yanks my jeans down. In one swift move, he lurches forward and takes my entire cock in his mouth. I hit the back of his throat and keep going as desperate sounds leave my lips. Planting both hands on the tree behind him, I pant as I watch his cheeks hollow around my thickness. Pretty dark lashes flutter against his blue-freckled cheeks, highlighting his long, elegant features. Goddess, he’s beautiful.

He pops off my dick and suckles at the tip, playing and licking as seed fills my sack until I feel like I’ll explode.

“Dirk,” I grunt. “Please.”

He grins and takes me into his mouth until his nose touches my stomach. When he growls, the low vibration hits me so hard, I lose control. I cry out in pleasure as orgasm rushes through me, my entire body stiffening as heat and bliss radiate from my core outward. Hot seed barrels down my shaft, exploding down his throat as he hums around my throbbing length.

He swallows every fucking drop as I wheeze and heave and try not to pass out from how fucking good his mouth is. But he doesn't stop there. As soon as my orgasm fades, he drops lower and sucks one of my balls into his mouth, pulling gently. My softening cock grows hard again when he strokes between my ass cheeks with his fingers. It’s just the hint, just the tease, and it reminds me we haven’t talked about sexual preferences between the two of us. But I can’t find words to even have that conversation as he tugs on my balls and circles my back hole with cool, wet fingers.

He’s going to put his finger into my ass. I know that as he plays with it. And I’m going to let him because this feels too damn good to stop. Stepping my feet wide, I pant as I slide my fingers into his hair and grip.

The sudden sound of crashing reaches my ears, and I jerk my head around.

Dirk’s mouth pops off my nut, and he looks up at me. “What is it?”

I turn as he rises.

“What do yeh hear?”

A slight rustling reaches me as I twitch an ear. “Something crashed through the underbrush,” I whisper.

“Och, some asshole messing up my sexy plans.” He scowls up at me, but there’s a thoughtful look on his face.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Let’s check it out.”

He whines, “Fine, but I need to finish what I was doin’ later, Wolf.”

“Deal,” I say breathlessly.

“Good. I wanna do it in front of our woman and watch her lose her mind.”

Goddess. Heat flares through me at imagining Dirk’s lips wrapped around my cock while she watches. I want it. I need it.

But faint rustling still reaches me, and my instinct has always been good. My wolf’s at the front of my mind, focused on the direction the sound came from.

Rounding a bend, I pause at a half dozen ferns lying trampled across my usual path. Stopping, I drop to a knee and pick one up. It’s coated in a sticky dark substance. When I bring it close, my nose scrunches.

Merfolk blood. It has an unusual undercurrent to it, like…berries or…I can’t place it.

My hackles rise as I examine the crushed vegetation. That’s when I notice a foot sticking out into the path a dozen paces ahead.

Oh shit.

Sprinting forward, I slide to a stop with Dirk by my side.

A female mermaid in human form lies tumbled over a mossy fallen tree, her arms askew and face hidden by masses of multi-hued dark hair. There’s no visible blood at a quick glance, but I scent it in the air. My nostrils flaring, I look around, but there’s no sign of someone else coming or going.

“Who’s this?” Dirk steps over the log to brush the mermaid’s blue hair away from her face. Her temple is bloody, a stream of it dribbling from a wound at her hairline.

“Amatheia,” I press the back of my hand to her skin, “King Caralorn’s eldest daughter. She’s cold as ice.”

Dirk lifts his comm watch. “I’ll call Slade.”

I nod, staring at the mermaid as he calls for help.

That done, he returns to where I’ve paused next to Amatheia’s prone form.

“Her skin doesn’t look right.” Dirk drops to a knee and runs his fingers over her cheek. “It’s mottled black. That’s not a mermaid thing, as I remember.”

“No.” I frown.

Lifting my comm, I call Richard to let him know what’s going on. He’ll rally the full set of troops so we can figure out what happened. Whoever did this to Amatheia is out there somewhere.

A groan drifts up from the fallen mermaid, her fingertips twitching. Dirk strokes her hair away from her mouth and nose as she sputters, blinking wide azure eyes at him.

“I—I, where am I?” Her tone is urgent.

Dirk croons, “Shh there, lovely girl. We found yeh fallen in the woods, and yeh’re bleeding from a wound at the temple.”

“I need to go,” she gasps, choking on the last word. A cough blasts from her throat, followed by a black viscous liquid that coats her chest and stomach.

“Get her on her knees,” Dirk barks, shifting his hands under her armpits and rolling her onto her side.

I grip her hips until she’s stable on her knees, face down in the dirt as she coughs up more dark, sticky-looking liquid.

Dirk reaches for Amatheia’s hair and holds it out of the way as the mermaid chokes and coughs, spitting black liquid into the dirt below. She doesn’t try to speak again.

“Have you ever seen anything like this?” I stare at Dirk. He’s traveled so much more than I have, and has probably seen things I could scarcely imagine.

He shakes his head, holding the mermaid in place as she coughs and spits.

Just then, shouts echo through the forest.

I call out for the others. Dirk’s worried eyes meet mine as Amatheia heaves and a pool of black liquid splashes into the dirt.

Lush ferns part, and Slade runs through, sliding to a stop next to us. “Roll her onto her side,” he directs.

Dirk and I carefully roll the mermaid to her left side.

Slade takes quick stock of her, noting the wound at her temple. Black fingers come to Amatheia’s mouth, and he opens it, feeling around inside.

She chokes again, sputtering as more liquid spews from her. Goddess, how much can she hold?

Slade frowns, rubbing the fluid between two fingers. When Amatheia groans and spits up more of it, he looks at Dirk and me. “Pick her up, bring her to my cottage immediately. I need to take a look at her and run some tests.”

“I’ll fly her.” Dirk drops down and picks the mermaid up in his arms.

“No,” Slade barks, his long black horns straightening behind his head. “You’ll shock her, and we don’t know what that’ll do.”

“I won’t go windy,” Dirk says, pulling Amatheia tightly to his chest.

“What do you mean?” Slade cocks his head to the side, but Dirk pushes off the ground and disappears between the trees, carrying Amatheia.

Slade’s mouth drops open. He whirls around to me. “Did he just fly without shifting into his element?”

I’m too surprised by the events of the last ten minutes to process Slade’s shock.

Slade shakes his head. “A mystery for another day. Let’s go.” Without further comment, he takes off the way he came, back toward downtown.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m coated in sweat as I walk through Doc Slade’s front door, through the front room and into the giant examination room at the back. When we enter, Dirk and my alpha, Richard, stand with Arkan, staring down at Amatheia, who lies in a bathtub full of water. Her lower half has morphed back into a long blue and turquoise tail, her single fin draping over the porcelain tub edge. Her head lolls over the opposite side, arms draped over the curved surface.

Richard gives me a look. “You haven’t missed anything. She passed out on the way here, according to Dirk, and hasn’t woken up.”

“She’s not vomiting any longer,” Slade murmurs from his spot next to the tub. He’s got some sort of implement inserted partially into her ear, listening to it. We fall silent as Slade continues to examine the mermaid.

Dirk backs up next to me. “I called Louanna on the way over and asked her to meet us. I dinnae want her hearing this through the grapevine.”

I crush down a sense of helplessness as I nod.

This is bad enough and I’m drowning in sorrow for the injured woman in the tub in front of us. But there’s something deeper and more terrifying there.

It could just as easily have been Lou who was hurt.