SAVAGE LOVE

By

J. Jenkins

Smashwords Edition

****

Published By: J. Jenkins on Smashwords

Copyright © 2010 by J. Jenkins

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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This book is a blending of fantasy, romance and erotica. The story is the product of the author’s imagination, and while some geographical locales and referenced material mentioned truly exist, main characters, and events are completely imaginary and any resemblance to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental. Please be advised that this book contains ‘Adult Reading Material’: implicit and expressed violence, strong language and graphic descriptions of sexual encounters between adult characters that some readers might find offensive.

Persons under the age of 18 please do not venture beyond this page.

Acknowledgements

I dedicate this book to everyone who gives the words and characters a chance to come alive in their imaginations. Thank you for investing your valuable time in downloading and reading my work. Without you, my story would never have an end.

Much thanks to my daughter Destiny Lopez for her editorial advice and suggestions on cover design. ‘Trumpa’, your energy is forever inspiring. To my mother Katherine Jenkins, here’s a little incentive to get online.

The cover image ‘Blood Rose and Gun’ is the work of Simon Howden / FreeDigitalPhotos.net and appears in accordance with the site's usage terms.

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Chapter 1

The invigorating brininess of the Pacific Ocean and the need to face the sunrise had Carolina Conway out of bed by five every morning. Rising early allowed her time to tend her garden, exercise, and prepare for work before she cooked a full breakfast, as she was doing now, in the kitchen of her Ventura, California home. Her mornings were very productive, the time when she plotted real estate deals and the like, focused hours when she gave thanks for all she had, a small portion being a thriving business and financial security. At age thirty-one, she was in good health. She prided herself on being caring and dependable, qualities that were partially responsible for cementing her bond to her friend Patrick, who was the greatest constant in her life.

Heaving a mental sigh, Carolina's thoughts moved on to the regrets of her life. Her twin brother had been stillborn, and then her parents died when she was a teen, leaving her to be raised by her older brother Ciaran who'd died six years ago, as had his wife. Another huge regret was ever planning to marry Ryan Sullivan who on their wedding day walked out on her. She'd never gotten over his betrayal or her life of abandonment.

Having finished her musings, Carolina placed three plates of food on the breakfast table just as two additional reasons she was grateful rushed into the kitchen. Calder and Callum were twin boys of thirteen, her deceased brother's children whom she was now parenting. The boys were happy, intelligent and active. Carolina knew she'd be lost without them.

Moving with natural grace, she took a seat at the table, playfully tousling two heads of already unruly mahogany-red hair. Cheerfully she inquired, “What are we doing tonight?” It was Friday; they always had plans for the weekend. The twins looked at her with brightly shining eyes, one pair rainforest marble green, the other set rainforest marble brown and her being vibrated with familial affection.

Callum talked around a mouthful of food, “The guys are coming to practice. Can they stay for dinner?”

Having already anticipated her affirmative response Calder chimed in, “Please bring home our favorite cake.”

Of course, she would. She’d swing by the bakery after work. Carolina gave them a fond smile before taking a large drink of Irish breakfast tea sweetened with lavender honey, and then dipped a finger of oat bread in Texas chili sauce before biting hungrily into the spicy treat, her eyes rolling in delight. As she continued her breakfast, she sat with renewed sadness listening to the boys' chatter about music and particular performers they longed to meet.

With breakfast completed and the twins upstairs gathering their school gear, Carolina studied her reflection in the entryway mirror, seeing fair and flawless skin, naturally arched brows, and an impish nose. With a gold-toned tube, she added just a hint of rose gloss to her softly full lips before running a smoothing hand over an abundance of waist-length, radiant red curls secured at her nape with a decorative silver clip. Carolina turned slightly, making sure the lightweight, charcoal-gray skirt suit successfully played down her womanly curves. Although she was now denied the sexual closeness she'd shared with her longtime lover, she didn't invite or want other male attention. Her family and its happiness were her priorities. Picking up her keys, leather tote and pink gym bag she called up to the twins just as they came charging downstairs. Rushing by, the boys planted kisses on each of her cheeks before hurrying out to the waiting SUV. Carolina smiled after them, thinking her life was good.

****

Dylan Savage brought his truck to a stop before turning to give his son, Justin, a measured look. The boy was slouched in his seat, petulance emitting from every pore and for emphasis, he thumped the worn heels of his sneakers down onto the leather dash, crossing his arms over his chest. Dylan's voice bespoke of his worry, “Will you tell me where you've been?” The teen had disappeared from school, a longstanding habit that had gotten him expelled from many private academies since the start of his formalized education and before that, he'd been prone to wandering from home, returning without an acceptable explanation. Now there was no response from Justin other than the turning of his head so he could gaze out the passenger window. Dylan tossed up his hands in defeat. “I can't help you if you won't talk to me.”

The thirteen-year-old turned, giving his father a sad look, “I don't want to live with Liz anymore.”

Although he'd been divorced for over three years, Dylan had yet to reconcile himself to the division of his family. He wished his son could respect Liz the way he'd always admired his own mother, but he and Justin had been down that road before. In an even tone he reprimanded, “She's your mother, don't call her Liz.”

Justin, to some extent, followed his father's directive by saying, “I don't want to live with that female creature you were married to. I need to live with you.”

Dylan took in his son's disheveled appearance and felt sorrow over the poor choices he'd made as a parent. “You're with me on weekends and when we're working you see me everyday.” From experience, he knew his words wouldn't placate his son.

In a steady voice Justin stated, “When I was newly born you swore we'd never be apart. I remember the vow you made over me. Dad, I have to live with you for good.”

Moved by his son's profound recollection Dylan sadly responded, “That's unlikely to happen unless I move back in with the two of you. However, as things stand, your mother is not open to the idea. When we divorced, she said she'd only have me back if I agreed to her stipulations about our way of life. She was setting conditions I could never agree to. But if she'd see reason I'd move back in.”

“After everything she put us through you'd really go back to her,” Justin's tone was disbelievingly horrified.

Dylan confessed the truth that directed his actions, “If she'd settle into an unobjectionable lifestyle I'd go because a man must always make his family the priority.” He watched as the boy studied him intently, hoping the child could understand.

Justin's voice was pained as he reported, “She's sleeping with my former friend's brother. He's barely out of high school and she's had him move in. They have endless parties with strange tattooed people traipsing about the house all day and night. Everyone gets completely wasted. I'm forced to slog through a swamp of half-naked bodies before I can reach the staircase leading up to my room. Dad, I can't live there.”

Dylan set his face in an unreadable mask before turning away from his son's acute gaze, away from the truth that had been clear for years: Liz wasn't going to change. As a wife, she’d fallen far below his expectations on every level except sex. As a mother, she’d been uninterested in Justin excluding his marketability but Dylan had never thought she'd flagrantly expose the child to her foolishness, public ridicule and scorn. For Justin's welfare, Dylan knew he had to accept Liz could never be the boy's mother, would never care for his son, who was the only reason he'd married her. She valued the material things he gave her, thrilled in his wealth, had enjoyed the star-studded parties and notoriety but when he'd grown tired of the manic existence, deciding to seek out a less hedonistic lifestyle, she'd filed for divorce and he, to his own amazement, had consented, all the time hoping she'd come around to his way of thinking, that family was important above all else. That was the way life had been for his parents and he'd worshiped them, a feeling he'd wanted Liz to inspire in Justin. He'd invested thirteen years, all of his son's life, waiting for her to be better.

Feeling electrified anger at her latest betrayal, he was deafened to the sound of Justin leaving the truck. Sitting for a long time, cell phone in hand, he wondered how his personal life could have gone so wrong, but could come up with no rational answer. Finally resolved to give his son what he needed Dylan telephoned his lawyers.

****

Balancing a pink cake box on both hands, Carolina walked through the open-air shopping complex smiling warmly at everyone she passed. As she drew even with a child seated on a bench, she felt warm winds stirring. The boy looked to be the same age as the twins, his lowered lashes glistening like gold dust in the spring sunlight. She tuned into his sorrow, feelings of loss, estrangement, indignation and loathing. Without hesitation, she turned and asked compassionately, “Do you need help?” His tears fell in response. Sitting at his side, she offered him her Irish lace handkerchief, waiting patiently until his distress ran its course.

After a time the boy lifted red-rimmed eyes to meet her gaze and she resisted the acute drive to hug him close, instead asking, “Is there someone I can call for you?”

With his eyes fixed on hers Justin shook his head, terrified of uttering the words he desperately wanted to say, that he knew her. With shy fingers, he touched the back of her soft hand resting on the bench near him, felt awesome tuning fork like vibrations travel from her skin into his and he inhaled her familiarly unique fragrance of meadow flowers, honey and fiery chili peppers. Strangled by emotion and round eyed with wonder, Justin sat silently staring, basking in her protection and warmth.

Carolina knew she shouldn’t have allowed the boy to touch her, reproached herself for permitting the charged contact to continue. She simply wanted him to feel happier for a moment. Children were definitely her weakness because she was unlikely to ever bear any of her own and this child was extraordinary, his energy positively wrapping around her, trying to blend with her own, as if they were long-time acquaintances. Deciding the contact had gone on far longer than was good for either of them, she eased her hand away just as a tall man stopped in front of them.

Carolina looked from one to the other, taking in their identical appearances: shoulder length, golden blond hair, tan skin, extraordinary lapis-blue eyes, the cleft chins and judged them father and son. She hesitated, concerned for the child's well-being, but seeing only relief on the man's face and sensing overwhelming adoration in the child for his father she felt comfortable leaving. Pulling a card from her purse, she placed the thick, white rectangle of rare opaque paper, containing her contact information, on the bench, offering, “If you need to talk, and with your father's permission of course, call me.”

Gathering her possessions, she moved past the man and fleetingly brushed his forearm with her fingertips to offer a small gesture of comfort. In return, she was awarded a look of immense gratitude. Carolina took her leave of them. Yet, having progressed only a few feet she was compelled to look back, experiencing the sensation of determined hands pulling at her and she heard a faint breeze carrying unvoiced words of longing as light as the flapping of butterfly wings. Her eyes met the golden haired duos' for a heartbeat, and with a friendly wave farewell, she proceeded on her way.

Chapter 2

When the doorbell rang, Carolina had just finished preparing dinner. Ridding herself of her floral apron, she hurried into the entryway. With a warm smile in place, she opened the door and was surprised to see the freshly outfitted, golden-haired duo she'd encountered earlier. The tall man was dressed in faded jeans and a long-sleeve, chambray shirt, attire that emphasized the powerful muscles of his body. An imposing, hand tooled, brown leather belt, with a highly polished silver buckle that read 'Savage', encircled his trim waist, hinting at the washboard contours underneath. The boy at his side wore denim cargo shorts and a vinca-blue tee. In the child's hands was a huge yellow planter overflowing with large flowers of deep blue, their glossy green leaves edged in bright white. Heartbeat accelerating, she stared at the boy, feeling sharp pangs in her damaged and ever empty womb. Her eyes studied the beautiful lapis-blue of his own, and then shifted again to the pleasingly familiar color of his shirt, both similar to the hue of the flowers he offered. Again she felt his energy twining around her and she couldn't stop her emotionally whispered, “I love Periwinkle blue.”

In a strong clear voice the man stated, “We wanted to thank you. My son is quick to take off, never considering the danger.” He nudged the boy's white sneaker with the tip of his brown cowboy boot, urging the child on.

“Thanks.” The boy beamed, his eyes riveted to hers.

The child's wide-eyed, happy look caused her to smile broadly, as she accepted his gift. “You're welcome and thank you...” She waited for him to offer his name.

“Justin,” he sighed, his smile broadening.

“Would you and your father like to come in?”

“We wouldn't want to impose,” the man stated sincerely.

She heard a relaxed twang in his richly modulated voice that made her heart skip a few beats, then assume a reckless thumping. “My boys already have friends here. You'll be my guests.” She nervously extended her hand offering, “I'm Carolina.”

“Dylan Savage,” he said, waiting for a spark of recognition at his name. When none came, he took her hand and felt burned to the marrow of his bones by the simple act of her warm, petal smooth skin contacting the rough calluses of his fingers and a low, audible crackling occurred in the air. For a brief moment, the lights flickered from a power surge, causing her mysterious eyes to meet his and he smiled invitingly, drawing her closer with a lightly commanding touch.

Shocked, she hurriedly withdrew her fingers from his before lowering her eyes. “Please come in,” stepping back she allowed them to cross the threshold just as a loud crash of cymbals reverberated through a nearby speaker. “Sorry.” She placed the flowers on the black occasional table in order to lower the volume on the Bose system. “The kids are rehearsing. Follow me and I'll introduce you to the entertainment,” she joked as a low riff from an electric guitar filled the area.

Dylan and Justin said in unison, “They sound good.”

“Thank you. Like their father the boys enjoy playing.”

As they arrived at the garage and makeshift rehearsal studio Carolina inquired, “Justin, do you play?”

The child nodded shyly, answering, “Yes.”

At their arrival, the band immediately halted in mid-song, gaping at the father and son as Carolina gestured to an array of instruments housed neatly along one wall of the large area saying to Justin, “Feel free to join in.” She shot the assembled group a look that demanded their very best behavior and proceeded with the introductions before stating, “Justin's going to play along with you guys. Alright?”

The band members stared slack jawed at her and the visitors. She cleared her throat and the awestruck teens nodded eagerly. Justin picked up an electric guitar and took a place within the ensemble. Under her breath, Carolina playfully whispered to Dylan, “Watch this.” Walking over to stand behind a microphone, she was immediately booed by the original band members. Feigning hurt disbelief at their unwillingness to let her showcase her singing, Carolina shrugged and then returned to Dylan's side.

He flashed a teasing smile. “Are you really that bad?”

Carolina saw the glimmer of brilliantly white, perfectly straight teeth against tan skin and was amazed at how humble he was for such a handsome man. “Lethal,” she chuckled and would have laughed outright if she hadn't been transfixed by the complex circular sound emanating from Justin's guitar. She studied the child as he played, the fluidly precise movements of his fingers flitting across the strings. “He's truly gifted,” she complimented, unable to look away from his son.

Casually Dylan responded, “Music is in his blood. Growing up, my brothers and I played every instrument we got our hands on so we'd never be short musicians for church.” Although he downplayed Justin's talent, he was proud of the mastery his boy had achieved through unwavering dedication. He was also pleased that Carolina appreciated the boy's talent without knowledge of his or Justin's celebrity and wealth.

She gave him a respectful look. “The twins' dad also played at church. He started teaching them when they were in diapers. Since his death they take lessons.”

His voice lowered comfortingly, “How long has it been since his passing?”

Sighing she answered, “Six years.”

He said a silent prayer, held his breath, then asked, “You never remarried?”

“Oh, I'm not their birth mother. Their father was my older brother. He and his wife died in an accident.”

Dylan looked from her to the twins. She shared such a startling resemblance with the boys that he'd automatically assumed they were hers. That she wasn't by nature their mother was very telling though, revealing to him her capacity to care so strongly that she'd seamlessly sealed the children within the envelope of her tenderness so they'd been able to recover from their loss and move on happily with their lives. He and Justin needed such levels of attention and commitment.

Looking back to Carolina, Dylan hoped she didn't have a significant other in her life, because if she did then what was he to do about the daydreams he'd been having since they'd locked gazes at the shopping center. When she’d touched his arm before walking away, he'd momentarily forgotten Liz and their wreck of a relationship. He'd wanted to call after her so she'd walk back and he could have stroked her lustrous hair, feeling that touching her was something he needed and had every right to do. In a deep, smoky voice he stated, “It must have been tough, loosing them and then having to assume raising the boys alone?”

“Yes,” fell from her lips, but she'd wanted to lie, protect herself from the emotions, and sensations she was experiencing.

Looking her up-and-down he reservedly asked, “Have you ever been married?”

She flinched. “Close once, but he changed his mind the day of the ceremony.”

Dylan surveyed her, the regal posture, a body with curves a man could spend a lifetime exploring and her hair blazed down her back like undulating fire, sexy, dangerous and beckoning. “His loss,” he stated enthusiastically.

She turned, capturing his smoldering look, felt herself emotionally falling, a sensation she didn't want, but heard herself asking, “And you?”

“Married for ten years, which netted me one heck of a son and a bushel of heartache. Divorced for three...” Her fragrance interrupted his thought process, billowing around him, whetting his appetite, scents of vanilla, caramel, chocolate and sensual richness filling his nose.

Her eyes searched his face, “You still care about her?”

“My attachment to her is a sorrowfully parasitic thing,” he confessed needing on a gut level to be honest and vulnerable with her.

“I get the idea,” she responded, knowing she hadn't enjoyed being robbed of her ability to live freely. Dylan's gaze still held hers, mesmerizing, coaxing, and momentarily oblivious to her surroundings Carolina lifted a hand, her fingers tucking a lock of sleek golden hair behind his ear. Her eyes roamed the planes of his handsome face, reading there more than he could tell her. She saw he was lonely and fearful, a family man by nature who'd had his heart broken and dreams tainted, his mind filled with so much confusion and doubt he thought himself weak. Feeling compassion for him, combined with the nagging desire to have his naked skin beneath her touch, Carolina smoothed her fingers along the steel of his jaw line, “Who wanted the divorce?”

“She did,” he whispered, enjoying the warmth of her fingers trailing down the length of his throat, until they suddenly fell away.

Carolina knew she had to stop tempting the chain lightning that would surely cause her suffering, but she couldn't hold back her husky sigh, “Definitely her loss.”

****

Being in the homey setting with Carolina and their kids was making Dylan antsy as unfriendly thoughts zigzagged across his consciousness and he knew he and Justin should've long ago said their respectful goodbyes and taken to the road home. However, the boys showed no evidence they were ready to end their fun although the time was nearing eleven o'clock. He'd made gentle suggestions several times to Justin that they might be outstaying their welcome but his comments were always met with unhappy grumblings from the three boys. Carolina consistently ran interference on behalf of the trio, content to let them have their way despite the fact that she had to be completely exhausted. She’d served dinner for eight: buttermilk biscuits, fried chicken with bacon and pepper cream gravy, mashed red-skinned potatoes, buttered peas with pearl onions, and tossed green salad, one of his favorite meals, the very dinner he'd earlier thought of having at home that evening. For dessert she’d surprisingly presented a purchased four-layer chocolate cake that he knew was Justin's favorite, of which the boys and he had eaten big slices. Carolina had foregone the devilish treat in favor of a single-layer caramel cake she’d baked and he'd eaten a square along with her, closing his eyes in rapture as the tang of buttermilk in the sweet glaze made him think of boyhood church picnics.

When three band members were picked up by their parents, Carolina had overflowing tins of freshly baked cookies and brownies for them to take home. While he, the twins and Justin had played video games, she’d served more chocolate cake and milk, lingering a long time to warmly massage the stiffness from his shoulders when she’d spied him rubbing his neck. Now he and the kids were watching a newly released action-adventure DVD and she’d excused herself, leaving him wonder if she’d gone off to darn socks, churn butter, mediate a global crisis or spin straw into gold.

Earlier she’d told him she owned a property acquisitions firm and supported numerous charitable causes, many of which they had in common. He'd been extremely impressed by her accomplishments and benevolence, though the things he found most fetching about her he discovered while surveying her home. Carolina lived in a lovely yellow cottage, with white picket fence. He had a thing for picket fences, having painted the one at his childhood home at the beginning of every spring from the time he was old enough to hold a brush. Her home's interior was a strategic blending of beige to camel colored paints and fabrics, country florals, and polished oak, with the surprise of an occasional wall painted deep dusky rose, all offset by sleek piano-black appliances and multimedia equipment. In addition, she maintained a fragrant pink, secretly his favorite color, rose garden, which was already in full bloom, heavily scenting the air around the exterior of her home. When he’d commented on the extraordinary performance of her bushes, in hushed tones she’s shared a few secrets of bountiful gardening, then made him promise not to tell another living soul the knowledge she was entrusting to him. He gave a silent chuckle at the memory of her antics: 'Bond Girl' guarding a classified secret. Everything he saw and heard highlighted Carolina's outward appearance of a superwoman who shielded a multidimensional spirit he yearned to know completely.

Pulling himself reluctantly from an overstuffed chair, he went to search out the woman he couldn't stop thinking about and found her sitting in the living room working a crossword puzzle. From the doorway, he could see her hair had escaped its clip to form a fiery veil around her lovely face. He longed to twine his fingers in its thickness and pull her close, something his ex-wife had never allowed him to do.

His relationship with Liz had been devoid of affection but there had been fevered sex that had ensnared him from the moment they'd met. The entirety of his marriage he'd been starved of nurturance, a trait Carolina seemed to possess in abundance. There was no wonder in his mind why he'd sought her out, no doubt as to why he couldn't stop thinking about her; he was fascinated by the way she cared with minimal reservation, almost blindly, for the people in her immediate orbit. Dylan had experienced few women in his lifetime so free with their embraces and hugs, women who would take the time to sit with a forlorn child or adult, natural mothers as was Carolina who he'd seen struggling not to pull his son into her arms when she'd embraced the other band members after they'd played their last song, but needing to demonstrate some level of deep sentiment she'd resigned herself to mussing his son's hair before placing her hand over her heart and raising her eyes heavenward. Justin, so in need of positive regard from a mother figure, had delighted in the expressions, smiling from ear-to-ear.

Of course, he wasn't blind to another of her attractions, a curvaceous figure she tried concealing beneath a conservatively tailored charcoal blouse and black slacks, which was an offense akin to draping an exquisite Greek statue with burlap. Dylan had allowed his eyes, on several occasions, to follow the lines of her figure, delightfully full breasts and a minuscule waist giving way to sumptuously swelling hips that would have enticed the holiest of men. He remembered how he'd forced himself to look away from the ripe roundness of her bottom when she’d bent to pick up an empty glass from the floor beside the sofa. Now his muscles tightened at the memory, his voice growing gritty, a little sleepy, and sinfully seductive, “Hey Carolina.”

“Hey,” she replied. Looking up at him, she placed the crossword on the coffee table. With a sweep of her hand, she invited him in, “Come sit with me.”

He eased his long frame down close to her. “Justin and I should be going.”

She took his hand. “Will you both be alright?”

With her touching him, Dylan was prompted to draw her further into his life. “Hopefully. I'm filing for sole custody because it's clear our views on parental responsibility are real different. Her most recent misconduct involves allowing Justin to see her stoned and hammered with her barely legal, live-in lover and their friends.”

Giving his hand a squeeze, she empathized, “How dreadful for Justin and you.”

“More so for Justin. I can withstand a heck of a lot, but if he stays with her I feel Liz, she's my ex, will keep on actin' out, delivering constant knife thrusts of disregard that will add up to one big hollow in his and my existence and all the while she'll be laughing as she turns the handle as hard as she can.”

“Will getting full guardianship be difficult?”

“I hope not. What's hard is accepting how I've failed my boy. I've always wanted his happiness but I got so blinded by Liz I lost sight of his needs.”

Thinking the woman possessed no inner virtues Carolina blurted out, “She must be very beautiful.”

He looked at her longingly. “I use to think so.”

Her tone was rushed, “And now?”

“She means nothing to me,” he professed.

Carolina wasn't convinced. Giving his hand a firm squeeze, she instructed strongly, “Forget her. You and Justin deserve better.”

He looked her over, sizing her up as a million times better and with his next words staked his claim, “In all those years why didn't you find someone else?”

Agilely she overstepped his trap. “I haven't the time nor want to.”

Carolina was wrong and he wouldn't let her get away that easily. She’d already made time for him. Now it was his noble objective to make her want. Dylan's gaze caressed the lines of her face as he slowly lowered his head to hers. “I feel I've always known you,” he avowed, just before their lips touched. He explored her essence, his head filling with obscure memories of rain soaked nights and high mountain air.

Carolina's mouth clung to his, enjoying the warm slippery, smoothness. It was a soul-searching kiss with lowered lashes and tenderness, a warning that he wanted more than she was prepared to give. Dylan wanted to make real the dream of her white picket fence, pink roses and whispered secrets. Apparently, he was oblivious to the undertones of darkness surrounding her. Slowly she drew her lips away from his and heaved a sigh, putting voice to her thoughts, “Don't delude yourself. The way you're seeing me isn't real.”

Pretending to misunderstand, he teased, “You feel real.”

Banter and frivolity she could handle. “And so do you.” After giving him a lingering kiss she clarified, “You know what I mean. Tonight has been fun but now you and Justin must go.” She stood and stretched before saying, “I'll tell them.”

He watched her fluid movements, wanting to pull her down on top of him; instead, he placed a hand at her waist to halt her progress, his fingers tingling at the contact. “Thank you again.” Strands of her hair attached themselves to his shirt and stroking them, he felt the furnace turned up on his desire, his breathing deepening.

Carolina heard his change and cautiously stepped away. “The boys are coming,” she announced thankfully. To the approaching trio she called out, “All done?”

Dylan stood alongside her to face Callum, Calder and Justin.

The twins spoke in unison, “We want Justin to stay.”

Dylan felt Carolina's sidelong glance in his direction, sensed her struggle to articulate an answer she probably never voiced to the twins, heard the clearing of her throat before she replied, “His father says they have to be leaving.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to him but only one voice questioned, “Dad?”

Seconds ticked by and he thought he didn't want to be the bad guy. “You can stay as long as y'all go straight to sleep.”

“All right,” the boys chorused before Callum and Justin took off.

Calder remained looking from Carolina to Dylan and directed, “You'll stay too. I'll prepare the guest room.” He left quickly not wanting to hear any excuses.

Dylan considered Calder his best friend but said, “I'll get Justin in the morning.”

With an indulgent smile aimed at Calder's retreating figure she told Dylan, “Please stay, the twins really like having the two of you here.”

He adored her sweetness. “Is there anything you wouldn't do for them?”

“Once, they wanted a python,” she shuddered at the memory and heard Dylan's laughter. They worked in unison to extinguish electrical devices before making their way upstairs to enter the guest suite. True to Calder's words, the covers were turned down with a robe and toiletries lying on top. She was amazed. “They really like you.” Scooping up the items, she placed them atop the dresser before moving across the room with Dylan in tow to open an interior door leading to the guest bath. “Have a shower or Jacuzzi if you-” She shivered, feeling his large body crowding her from behind, his fingers capturing the ends of her hair.

Dylan allowed the silken strands to run through his fingers. Lowering his head, he breathed into her ear, “It's like trying to catch a flame.” Using his size alone he directed her further into the bathroom, closing the door behind them.

Facing him, Carolina's eyes drank in his intensity.

Dylan's gaze devoured her loveliness.

When her lips parted to speak, he read her intentions and forcefully commanded, “Don't say no.”

The unexpected authority in his voice made her jump. “This isn't why I asked you to stay. I don't want to mess things up for the boys.”

“We won't,” he asserted.

More truthfully, she didn't want to risk growing closer to Dylan only to have him turn away from her. However, her ardent nature had her saying, “Tell me we're just for tonight, that tomorrow you and Justin will leave and not return and then I'll sleep with you. But if you want the boys to grow closer or need more than sex from me then I won't.”

“You want a one night stand?”

“I don't want empty notions of forever.”

“No promises?”

“None.”

“No regrets”

“Just about-”

Dylan didn't want to hear her cautions because the fertile scent of her summoned and emboldened him, convinced him that no matter what she said now, he would sway her later. Yanking her to his chest, he kissed her until he was sure her concerns no longer mattered. “Tonight, make me forget,” he insisted.

Carolina's head was reeling but she vowed, “I will.”

Her assertion decided the matter. He branded her lips with a rough, hot kiss that was a compass for her to follow. Having been celibate since his divorce there was extreme need throughout his being.

Pulling away from him, she sank to the floor, her fingers deftly unbuckling his belt and unfastening his jeans to release his rigid penis into her hands. His root was enormous in both width and extent, weighty, by design inviting her grip.

Holding his gaze, she stroked his throbbing length, until his eyes closed and he let out a groan from deep within his chest. Encircling his mighty erection she squeezed him tightly, sliding her hand slowly back and forth, her touch growing warmer and she felt him thrusting against her palm, wanting her, making her feel desired and needed as no man had in a long time, for that and because he'd asked she'd make him forget. “Look at me,” she requested.

He did, seeing the flush of passion that stained her cheeks dusky-rose. Her eyes sparkled the mystical colors of polished Connemara marble. Wildly, as if windblown, her vibrant-red hair billowed around her. Trembling at the sight and feel of her, he ecstatically declared, “Gracious honey, you're beyond beautiful.”

She was thrilled that he found her pleasing, that he'd already formed an endearment for her. “Don't stop looking at me,” she instructed while divesting him of his clothing, pushing him back to sit on the tub's edge. Kneeling between his thighs, she trailed her nails across his flat, rock hard abdomen then down the solid muscles of his thighs. Leaning forward her hair danced across and around his legs as she greedily engulfed him in her mouth, immediately gliding him down her throat.

He gave a shout of surprised satisfaction, “I can't believe you're swallowing me.”

Carolina felt him shudder. She eased him out, her tongue spiraling around his iron rod, then slowly slid him back in, making her throat tighten around him at every inch of his journey and when he'd reached his destination she sucked on him like a commercial vacuum cleaner. He tried to pull away but she kept up the tight, squeezing pressure, milking him, then easing off, repeatedly bringing him to the edge of climax until his thighs were bathed in sweat. She heard the ragged groans deep in his chest and felt him wrapping her hair around his hands binding them together.

After several licks to the underside of his shaft she allowed him to withdraw from her throat, let the big persimmon-sized head get to the border of her teeth before she forcefully sucked him back in, feeling the sides of his large penis start to expand and pulse before she abruptly released him and he unbound himself from her hair. Standing, she removed her clothes before returning to sit facing him astride his lap. She licked his ear, sighing erotic imaginings while gyrating on his swollen staff. Against his lips she whispered how he'd felt in her mouth, her tongue teasing his lips apart, its tip darting in and out, sliding along the edges of his teeth. Drawing back, she nipped the fullness of his lower lip and felt him buck forcefully beneath her. Looking deep into his eyes, she bit him harder, tasting the salt of his blood, watching as bolts of white light appeared in his pupils, his entire body aquiver. Ceasing her gyrations, she sat her sultry opening fully upon his pulsating erection. Cupping his square jaws she bathed the tiny wound she'd made on his lip, before purring how much she’d wanted him to come in her mouth, would have loved to drink all of his rich sweetness.

Fiercely gripping her hips he plunged into her, his tongue and penis simultaneously staking their claims. His body burned, heat, strong and pleasurable seeping from her into him. Her mouth tasted of honey and chipotles. The haven that housed his shaft had the feel of a hot spring and at every point where their bodies connected, he felt tiny zings of electrical warmth. Continuing to mate his tongue with hers he pulled his engorged flesh from inside her to its throbbing head before surging strongly into her again, his fever intensifying, a vortex of heat surrounding them.

Moaning, she felt herself stretching to accommodate his amazing size. Wrapping her arms around him she surrendered, seduced by scents of scorched earth and rosewood, her guard slipping and the heat she was exuding intensified. She rose and fell, as he advanced and retreated until she cried out her release into his mouth, a pinkish-gold, swirling vapor, she prayed he couldn't see, cloaking their joined bodies.

Carolina's arms and legs were still wrapped around him and he remained stone hard inside her as he rose to his feet and carried her into the outer room. When he felt her back touch down securely against the mattress, he slammed into her, the bed shaking from the force of his thrusts. Lowering his head, Dylan sucked at her pale breast, rolled the pebble-hard nipple between his teeth before biting gently. He felt her legs unlock from around his waist, to rest upon the mattress, and then she lifted her pelvis so he could slide further into her warm body. He thrilled in the pleasure of her quivering inner thighs as she strained her muscles to stay elevated while he rammed into her, then she rocked her raised hips back and forth, keeping tempo with his vigorous thrusts. From her breast to her throat his lips blazed desire until he finally reached her ear where he repeatedly panted her name, setting her wild beneath him, her hands playing across the muscles of his back and shoulders, stroking, clawing, searing his skin delightfully and purposely he wished she'd give him a child.

With considerable strength, he forced her flat against the mattress, repositioning her legs around his waist and locking her arms around his neck. He bound his hands in her hair, tugging strongly, making her look into his eyes as he resumed thrusting, “I want us to stay like this until we climax together.”

His weight was crushing her, pain darting across her scalp as he tugged harder. Breathless and trembling she nodded her agreement only to have him wrap his hands tighter in her hair, pulling much harder. Carolina felt bands of heat coiling around them as she waited for him to lead her.

“I need you to completely give yourself to me,” he bid softly above her lips.

“I'm yours, and for tonight, will do and be, all that you ask. Tell me how to move, when to come, and I’ll satisfy you.”

His heart doubled in size at her promise and he ordered huskily, “Tell me what you feel.”

“You, thick, long and hard, waiting to fill me. I know pain, pleasure, and your desire, feel such immense heat I can hardly bear the intensity.”

He yanked down on her hair and thrust up inside her demanding, “But for me you will.”

The light in his eyes captivated her and she vowed, “For you, I'll do anything.”

Kissing her deep and long, he continued thrusting forcefully, felt her tight wetness clenching, beginning to unhinge the floodgates. Reluctantly parting from her lips he blew the narcotizing smoke of his voice into her ear, “Honey, keep all of me inside you.”

Her trembling intensified and she felt as if she were shattering, leaving her body, prompting her frantic declaration, “I swear I will.”

With his hips repeatedly crashing into hers he sucked on her ear lobe, puffed warm breaths into the canal, then demanded passionately, “Now Carolina. Come with me now.” He felt a fiercely gripping orgasm take her at the same moment he discharged three years of pent up, rudimentary sexual need into her quaking body.

Together they zoomed up beyond earthly gratification where the atmosphere was so thin they could hardly breathe, yet still he gave of his loins and she absorbed his plentiful fluid into her droughty garden until his thrusting and panting ceased. Then they were plummeting, sweat drenched bodies shivering. He collapsed on top of her, gasping out her name and sweet endearments. She remained silent and held him tight while focusing her energy to contain his torrential release.

Much later, he felt her wriggle from beneath him, out of his tight embrace, to turn on her side. Not wanting to be apart, he pulled her back against him and touched between her thighs, stroking her mons venus, smiling when he discovered she was completely dry. He cradled her in his arms, cupping her breasts as he buried his face in her fiery hair. In a low, sandpapery voice, he told her all the ways he would cherish her. His words trailed off into a soothing hum that lulled her to sleep and he continued holding her, wishing for their child that would be like them both, desiring for her to be always at his side. Finally, he slept, and even in his dreams he held on to her, mentally and physically gripping her possessively until they woke the next morning and she obstinately sent him away.

Chapter 3

Complications abounded inside the Conway home when the twins learned Justin and Dylan weren’t coming back. Listening to weeks of the twins' whining and heated tantrums only hardened Carolina's resolve to keep the Savages out of their lives. Today marked the beginning of week four of their campaign to get her to change her decision and they were waging a war of silence at the breakfast table.

Almost at the end of her emotional rope Carolina asked them, “For how much longer are you two going to misbehave?”

Silence.

“I've explained why they won't be visiting. This family needs to stay focused.”

Sullen glares.

“Alrighty then, let's strike a deal. If you two stop being obstinate, I'll buy you each one of those fancy guitars you've been wanting.”

One disgusted snort, then another.

Carolina was feeling desperate. “What about that snake? I'm sure I can find one, or two of them, even.”

They rolled their eyes.

Seeing she was getting nowhere, she told them to go and get their stuff for school. Carolina waited in the entryway, stealing minutes to survey her appearance in the mirror. As usual, her hair was clipped back at the nape and her skin was devoid of make-up, raising a tube of tint to her lips she felt her hand shake and decided to go without her only concession to beauty. No matter how much she willed them, the corners of her mouth wouldn't lift into a smile and there was a stern set to her brow. Smoothing her hands down the length of her charcoal-gray dress, that felt far too snug across the hips, she fussed over imaginary wrinkles and when her hand lifted to straighten the tie at her waist she felt a flutter in her stomach, her nerves trying to get the best of her. Hearing the twins descending the staircase she grabbed her keys, briefcase and gym bag before turning to see the boys looking at her coldly.

She didn't reach out to muss their hair or hug them as she longed to, fearing their recoil. They didn't stop to kiss her as they desperately wanted, needing her submission to their demands for the Savages. Uncomplicated, relaxed and normal, their long established family pattern, had all been left behind when she'd selfishly partook in a night of passion with Dylan. Now Callum, Calder and Carolina Conway walked out of their cheerful yellow cottage with no happiness in their hearts. The boys were glum and she was teetering on the brink of angry frustration with one thought at the forefront of her mind: that her life sucked.

****

Dylan sat in a black leather chair in an office with austere marble flooring, subdued silver light fixtures and coldly inflexible abstract art, unable to believe this was Carolina's company. He saw no evidence of the softness he knew she possessed and was eager to see how she could be productive in such an environment. He smiled at the female assistant sitting at the workstation, “With you not answering the phones how long will it take for her to come out?”

All atwitter at his presence, the beautiful, buxom, blond secretary extraordinaire smiled brightly and offered, “I'm not sure. Mr. Savage, are you certain you don't want me to tell Ms. Conway you're here?”

“Naw darlin,' I'll wait,” he drawled, winking conspiratorially at her just as a door opened and Carolina, walking out, halted at the sight of him, her eyes narrowing.

She ignored him. “Erica is there a reason you aren't picking up? I need those contracts. Also, get me the Santa Barbara land lease and the financial reports from Jerry. Did you confirm the attendees for today's luncheon?”

“Sorry Ms. Conway. I'll get right on everything but there's-”

“I can see someone is here. Will you please get a move on? I don't want to be late.” Switching her focus to Dylan, she spoke to him politely but impersonally, “Mr. Savage please step into my office.”

As Dylan passed the assistant, he gave her an apologetic smile and the one she returned held a sensual invitation he would never answer. Hearing the office door close behind him, he informed her, “If you're going to be angry with someone then be mad at me. I asked her not to answer so you'd come out.”

Carolina spoke coldly, “I don't appreciate you disrupting my staff. Why are you here?”

Giving her a brilliant smile and playful shrug Dylan replied, “You never return my calls. So here I am.” He drank in the sight of her like a man who'd wandered the desert for days only to stumble upon a stream of crystal clear water.

Carolina saw those divine blue eyes and his seductive mouth smiling at her as if he'd just won the state lottery and between her thighs she felt her traitorous body clench with longing. She realized she needed to utilize real determination in order to get rid of him. “An unanswered call, no let me correct myself, a dozen calls a day, for twenty-six days, not returned, means what on your planet?”

'Meow', Dylan thought, resisting the urge to reach out and stroke her until she purred. “That we should work out our problems face-to-face.”

“No. My not returning your calls means I have nothing to say to you.”

“But-”

“We agreed. End of night. End of story.” Carolina didn't allow him to present an argument in case her resolve started to weaken.

“I'd like to start over,” he pleaded.

She gave a sarcastic chuckle, “No.”

Dylan wanted to take hold of her, bind her to him and erase every objection she could raise. The bands he threw around her were silken, “I miss you and the twins. Justin misses the twins but he misses you most.”

She wagged her finger at him disapprovingly, “Don't you dare try and use the kids against me. I'm living in a war zone because of the deal we made.”

“The disharmony would end if you'd agree to some type of contact. At the very least you and I could have a platonic relationship and the boys could hang out together.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, steely silence was the response she gave.

Dylan ran his fingers through his hair in frustration but he wouldn't be daunted in his efforts to get back in her life. He lowered his voice, brought words from the center of his chest so they rumbled like pleasant thunder before a gentle rain, “I'm begging you, don't continue with this mess we started. Do you want me to say I regret sleeping with you? I won't. Honey, I can still smell you on my skin, taste you in my mouth and the heat... I've never known such searing gratification. Remembering the way you took me in your mouth, your throat and lips closing tightly around me, sets my nerves to throbbing in anticipation of a repeat performance. But I'll tolerate a friendship if that's all you're willing to give me.”

Carolina fought the urge to clasp her hands over her ears to shut out the seductive timber of his voice, wanted to close her eyelids tightly so she wouldn't see his need. Frustrated, she glared at him, “You're already breaking the one agreement we made. I'd be a fool to take your word on anything else. Leave Dylan, I have no time for this and you shouldn't have come here. Don't ever come back or I'll...” Her words trailed off as she saw and sensed a shift in him.

Dylan narrowed his eyes and widened his stance. With pursed lips, he studied her, thinking he'd been enjoying the snippy schoolteacher bit but wasn't about to let her think she could intimidate him. With flint in his voice, he asked, “Or you'll what?”

His tone grated on her already exposed nerves and she figuratively put up her Irish dukes. “Have ye escorted out and barred from my building.”

Dylan's narrowed eyes opened wide in surprise. He hadn't figured her as a woman who would want to make a scene. “Are you serious?”

As a kill shot she thought. “Yes.”

Dylan shook his head in disbelief. “Who are you?” He looked about the office that was contemporary and devoid of vibrancy, completely different from the home she lived in and the contradictions made him seriously question her, “Where's the woman I held in my arms, made love to until I thought I'd died?”

She wasn't going to feel guilty because he'd filled his head with foolish romantic notions. “I'm right here and let's be clear, we had sex. Don't mistake animalistic coupling for love.”

He had a different opinion. “Can you still taste me? Do you wake up longing for my touch? Does your heart lurch every time you hear my voice? Do you find yourself thinking about me even when you try not to?”

Her heart cried out, 'Always'. However, her mind was resolved to have none of that foolishness. She closed herself off from the memories his words conjured up. “Stop trying to seduce me,” she rasped, raising her hand to her chest to protect herself further.

Dylan knew he was getting to her, saw the pulse beating rapidly at her throat. “Why did you let me stay that night?”

His relentlessness made Carolina want to punch him. “I wanted-”

“You wanted what?

She wearily confessed, “I wanted you to feel connected, nurtured, worshiped and adored, things you alluded to not having in your marriage.”

Dylan elevated his voice to the sultry mist-on-the-water quality he knew women found irresistible, “Why did you care that I'd been miserable and unsatisfied in my marriage and since my divorce?”

Carolina didn't like the way he kept trying to seduce her with his voice. The smoky, gritty, alluring tone reminded her of a life lost, of the trickster who'd hurt her badly, aiding in the theft of her most precious possession. She wouldn't be robbed and left to flounder for a new life again. She took a deep, steadying breath, and then exhaled slowly. “Leave Dylan.”

He wasn't going to back down. “Not until you give me an answer that makes sense,” he demanded in his normal speaking voice of subtle gravel and Texas twang.

“I tried to tell you that night but you wanted to pretend, but I should’ve made you listen. Therefore, I'm telling you now. I'm a woman who is happy with the unattached status of her life. I don't want entanglements. Sleeping with you was a momentary lapse of good judgment fueled by unresolved longing to have a man want me above all else, so I used you and you used me to forget your ex-wife.”

Remembering Carolina's unrestrained eroticism combined with her selfless desire to satisfy his every need, he jealously asked, “When we were making love who were you thinking about?”

She flung her hands up in exasperation, “We didn't make love. Will you please get the fact through your head?”

Dylan felt his chest muscles flexing. He wanted to pull her to him, needed to hear the truth spoken against his lips. “Who were you loving? Me or your ex-fiancee?”

Carolina deliberately hesitated, calculating. She wanted her life back to normal, minus complications. “My ex. Now get out, don't come back and stop calling me.”

He advanced on her, “You're lying.”

She nervously backed away from the vivid white light in his eyes. “No I'm not.”

“I don't think so.” Pushing her roughly back against the wall, he untied Carolina's wrapfront dress, to slide the flat of his palm across her abdomen, lowering his head to kiss the erratic pulse in her throat.

“Let go of me.” She didn't want to feel his solid strength or sniff the cardamom and ginger scent of his body, nor taste his cinnamon flavored lips and tongue.

His hand undid the inner bow that kept the dress secure and as the fabric parted, he caught his breath at the sight of her in a dusky-rose bra, matching panties and fringed garter belt sparkling with tiny gems. “There ya are precious. I knew you were here all the time and you've put on weight. I like your new curves honey,” he drawled.

She tried to pull the dress shut, “Get out of my office.”

With one hand he captured Carolina's wrists in a strong grip to stay her movements while his other hand teased between her legs, feeling her wetness through the lace, “Who were you making love to that night?” His finger pushed aside the crotch of her panties and eased into her.

Squirming with pleasure at his touch, she cursed her renegade body, but her mind refused to relent. “I've already told you.”

“Wrong answer.” He slowly slid another finger into her tight opening, flexing them inside her until he felt her tremble.

Carolina wanted to rock her pelvis into his strong hand, couldn't deny that his callused fingers were doing all sorts of delicious things to her insides but she kept up her resistance until he did the one thing she couldn't ignore: he slowly removed his fingers from inside her and raised them to his lips.

Her inner muscles tightened eagerly, her body arching into his hardness. “Oh god, it was you,” she sighed as if in a trance.

He knew he could have taken Carolina then but instead he released her from the tight hold of his commanding gaze. Controlling the primal part of himself, Dylan righted her dress and stood before her, their bodies almost touching. “Honey, please give me a chance. I'd never do to you what your ex did. I wouldn't leave you.”

Something in her wanted to believe him, but she couldn't let herself, feared she wouldn't survive being rejected and abandoned again. She was already loosing the twins, loosing control of herself, and the experiences were tearing her up inside. With fists clenched, she gritted words between her teeth, “Get. Out.”

Dylan could see she was fighting her feelings, saw her fear, determination and sadness. Her tortured eyes made him regret bulldozing over her resolve. “Honey I'm-”

“No,” frightened by her weakening mindset she didn't wait for him to finish. She marched past Dylan and opened the door for him to leave. When he wouldn't she stalked back to her desk, gathered what she needed for the luncheon and left. Taking the documents from her assistant's outstretched hands as she passed the workstation, Carolina fled the building wondering if her life could possibly get worse.

****

Having business luncheons at Ventura's beautiful marina was a deliberate decision on Carolina's part. She wanted to grind away at the memory of her ex. This had been the locale for their wedding reception; a celebration that had taken place without vows being exchanged and despite the prospective groom being noticeably absent. She needed the positive present to outweigh the negative past so she never conducted business negotiations here, that sometimes-uncertain process could take place anywhere else, but never by the beautiful blue water that held the tears she’d shed for hours six years earlier. In her mind, this was a sacred place of sorts, which demanded beneficial energy. Therefore, her luncheons consisted of contract signings and drinks first, always club soda for her, then an elegant meal and more drinks with a good bit of jovial conversation thrown in because she genuinely liked the people with whom she now formed alliances. Having today's contracts finalized and secured in her briefcase, she settled into the flow of badinage with her seven guests, her best friend and constant client Patrick Donovan, Judge Sapperstein, Dr. Bixby and four other powerful and wealthy men who'd joined together in a California property venture totaling over half a billion dollars, a very satisfying deal for her since she'd lured two of the buyers away from her former fiancee's firm. Carolina felt giddy in her victory and wouldn't allow the day's issues, with the twins or Dylan, to diminish her elevated spirits.

She was deeply engrossed in Dr. Bixby's detailing of a Florida development he'd been pondering when Carolina heard the Judge ask no one in particular, “Is that who I think it is?” His gaze was fixed in the direction behind her seat. The pheromone levels at the table rose dramatically, stinging her ultra sensitive nose.

“She's coming this way,” heralded Dr. Bixby, straightening his tie, smoothing his thinning hair and reddening like a teen with his first erection during co-ed gym.

The dining room grew quiet. Not one to be star-struck, Carolina never looked toward the approaching figure. She simply waited for the woman to achieve her destination and in short time felt someone standing beside her. Carolina's lunch guests, with the exception of Patrick, rose courteously.

“Aren't you Ms. Conway?”

Carolina turned, looking up at a woman with fashionably styled ebony hair, cold gray eyes and a runway model's slender figure, thinking the woman would have been superbly beautiful if she didn't have a razor sharp edge of cruelty about her. She could sense that the woman derived pleasure from hurting people, physically and emotionally. This was a woman she, in no way, would have, or wanted any association. Aloofly Carolina asked, “Have we met?”

“I'm Liz Savage and since you're fucking my husband I thought introductions were long overdue.”

Oh my gosh, Carolina thought. Looking hurriedly at Patrick, she saw him raise one dark eyebrow. “I'm not sleeping-” Carolina felt the splash of liquid on her face, the sting of alcohol in her eyes. Quickly she grabbed her linen napkin, dabbing the wetness from her skin. She felt Patrick rising to defend her and lifted a palm halting him.

“Stay the hell away from my husband and Justin,” Liz cattishly ordered.

Placing the wine stained napkin on the table Carolina turned away from Liz to address her guests, “I apologize for this uncivil display. Please stay and finish at your leisure.” Collecting her briefcase she stood for a dignified finish, “Working with you all has been a tremendous honor and I look forward to our future business ventures.” Carolina walked away calmly, atypical of someone whose dress was stained with red wine and who was being pursued by a jealous ex-wife plus her two-person posse.

By the time Carolina entered the restaurant's lavatory she was livid and when Liz, along with her companions, walked in, the myth of a redhead's fiery temper was in Carolina's case proven true. Using her briefcase, she pushed Dylan's ex-wife forcibly against the bathroom wall and kept the lanky prima donna pressed in place by the solid force of her body. As the two friends tried attacking her from the rear, she swung the case back with a steely arm, clipping them at their temples. The two aging Barbies shrieked, raising hands to faces far too familiar with a plastic surgeon's blade. She felt them back away and Carolina glared at Liz saying icily, “Listen closely cunt, I'm not sleeping with your husband; you divorced him and now that you've gotten in my face, embarrassed me publicly, I'm going to make it my life's work to shag Dylan day and night.”

With her hand drawn back, Liz pushed with the other against Carolina's restraining arm but stopped when Carolina raised the briefcase, ready to strike. “If you didn't have that case I'd scratch your eyes out,” Liz threatened.

Carolina didn't need the case. If she actually decided to put hands on the underfed bimbos, most of the restaurant's wait staff would need to intervene in order to stop her from causing the women serious injury. “Well I do. So I suggest you scat.”

“This isn't over,” Liz hissed and arched aggressively into the pressure of Carolina’s body.

Carolina felt her biceps quiver as she fought the urge to bash Liz over the head until the woman's face and hair were clotted with what few brains she possessed. “If my business suffers because of what you did today I'll crush you like a grape, now get out.”

The two blonds hurried from the restroom. Liz hesitated, glowering momentarily before slithering from between Carolina’s body and the wall to make her exit. Carolina watched the woman leave, slowly relaxing. She massaged her temples, begging the headache creeping its way into her hairline to be gone, wanting her seething anger to fade away before she seriously took to tracking Liz down and using her for target practice.

Walking to the basin, she ran scalding water over her hands, splashing some on her face until she felt her tensions ease. Cupping her hands she captured the hot flowing stream, raised palms full of steaming water to her lips, deliberately allowing the blistering liquid to enter her mouth. She contained the fluid, focusing her energy to intensify the temperature until she felt bubbling action against her tongue. When she'd endured enough, she absorbed all of the water's heat then spat the now icy slush onto her mirrored reflection, silently cursing her foolishly frolicsome ways.

Chapter 4

For the first time in her life, Carolina wanted a stiff drink and thought a wee nip of Michael Collins wouldn't harm her. There was a bottle of that fine Irish whiskey in her office courtesy of Patrick and he seemed to suffer no ills after consuming large amounts of the pleasant smelling spirit. Purposefully walking past her assistant's workstation she called out, “Erica, the deal was signed. We all worked hard now it's time for a well-deserved break. Send out an e-mail, I'm giving the entire staff two weeks off with pay and I'll personally get the bonus checks run and in the mail by tonight if everyone can be out of here in less than five minutes, one second longer and the offer is retracted.”

Erica's fingers flew across the keyboard. The global correspondence was marked ‘urgent’, and then sent. “Ms. Conway...” Having noticed her supervisor's stained dress she voiced concern, “Are you alright?”

Carolina could already hear some staff members hurrying from the office. “I'm fine. Now gather your things.”

“Mr. Savage-”

“I'll deal with Mr. Savage. Just go and have a great vacation.”

Wanting desperately to grab a shower, change into clean clothes and get familiar with drinking liquor, Carolina entered her office and closed the door. Flinging the briefcase aside, she was preparing to kick off her shoes when the chair behind her desk was swiveled in her direction. Justin sat there, appearing very shaken.

“I'm sorry,” he apologized in a trembling voice.

After the day's events, she wasn't surprised to see him. “What for?” She was the one who was sorry for being such a selfish, sex starved idiot.

“I should have gone home that night.” He didn't mean what he'd just said. He'd wanted to stay with her forever from the moment he'd seen her, wanted to rush into the security of her arms right now.

The mere sight of him filled her heart. He was a wonderful little boy. “I was happy you stayed.”

“So why couldn't I visit anymore?”

Guiltily she averted her eyes, “I decided not seeing your father was for the best.”

Justin had believed once they'd been reunited everything would magically fall into place. “Did you two fight?”

With a tight smile and a shake of her head she answered, “No we didn't.”

Unreservedly he inquired, “Did he make love to you?”

Carolina felt heat surge into her face. “Justin I've had a really long day. Please call your father and have him pick you up.”

He hadn't meant to embarrass her. “Sorry. I'm not going to dad's.”

Although she knew she'd dread making the suggestion, feeling there was little else she could do, she instructed, “Well, call Liz,” the recent events with that woman made her voice uncommonly sharp. Taking a calming breath she started over, “Justin-”

“No. I'll be alright on my own.”

He didn't sound like he could manage all by himself. There was a faraway quality to his voice that chilled her. Across the distance, her eyes searched his face. “Why aren't you in school?”

His voice grew small, “I got into some trouble.”

She heard shame in his words. “With who? Were you hurt?”

He shook his head chasing away the memories. “What happened isn't important because you won't see my dad. I'll just be a casualty of the war you've mounted against him.”

His lowly spoken words held for her the impact of a nuclear blast. Clearly, he was terribly troubled by more than her refusal to see him and his father. “Justin allow me to call Dylan?”

He tried to make his voice sound light, but he was tired so the words were sluggish, “Never mind. He'll know soon enough. I won't bother you again.” Justin woozily walked over and kissed her on the cheek as he'd seen the twins do, as he'd desperately wanted to do at their reunion. “Please remember me,” he sadly wished aloud.

Up close, she saw how pale he was, with faint telling bruises on his face, arms and wrists. She touched his cheek lightly, felt him wince, struggling to maintain control as she levelly questioned, “Who did this?”

He couldn't look her in the eye, “If you won't see me and dad nothing matters.”

Her head felt as if it were going to explode from the images and memories bashing around the interior of her skull. This can't be happening again, she thought. “Justin, baby, I won't let you go.”

“I've missed you and now there's no time for us,” he voice was groggy and with deep regret.

Carolina clasped his hands, felt life claiming cold creeping over his skin. She held on to him tighter and disagreed, “We have all the time in the world. You'll stay with me. I'll call your dad and tell him we're together.”

Weakly he anticipated, “It won't be forever though.” Pulling away from her he placed his hand over his heart and raised his eyes heavenward, mimicking the gestures she'd made to him weeks earlier. “I've always loved you,” he tenderly professed. Turning he managed to take a few wobbly steps, before collapsing to the floor with a thud.

She rushed to him, checking for his pulse and respiration but unable to feel either began CPR, alternately breathing for him and compressing his chest, silently begging God to spare him, thinking his life slipping away was all her fault. She pleaded with Justin to stay, told him she wouldn't live without him now that they were together again and shocked by the unchecked admission, the inner truth she'd been ignoring, she sat silently for several brief seconds, pushing down the memory of a lifetime long lost to her.

Too afraid to leave him to phone 9 1 1 Carolina cried out for help and when none came she blamed herself for sending everyone home. She felt his life flame flicker in the breeze that stirred to usher him on to another existence before the final flaring of his energy depleted his vitality. Determinedly she worked to revive him, all the while confessing her sins hoping her disclosure would help save him, but he remained motionless, growing colder. She was weak from exertion, throat raw and aching. Desperately wanting him to live, she offered her soul and spirit to any deity who would take them in exchange for his life, offered to do anything because having lost him once, she wasn't prepared to do so again.

Her proposals went unaccepted, dissipating into the atmosphere, and he remained deathly, static. Carolina, beside herself with grief and longing, chose to do something that had only ever worked for Patrick, thinking the process might work for Justin despite their connection, although her special ministrations hadn't for other members of her family. Placing her left palm in the center of his chest, she leaned down to whisper an ancient Gaelic oath in his left ear and Irish promises in his right. Sitting up she finished with the audible English declaration, “I'll never let you go Justin Christopher Peri Savage.” Keeping her palm flat against his chest she drew in energy until she felt the first stirrings of heated air swirling around them, the lights in the room flickering. Leaning over she grasped his left-hand in her right, kept her left palm on his chest and blew a warm stream of brilliant electrified air from her mouth into his left ear until she felt the tiniest movement in his chest beneath her palm, then she severed all physical contact with him, sat back, waiting, hoping she'd given him enough, but not too much. She counted off the minutes in her head, deeply breathing in the scents of earth, sunshine, rain and the aroma of every beautiful memory she'd ever had. When ten minutes had passed she resumed praying before finally telling the child she'd always loved him, that she was sorry they'd been separated, apologized for being selfish and afraid.

Justin inhaled, choked and sputtered breaths that brought forth a flood of malodorous vomit. Carolina wiped his face and cradled him in her arms, silently giving thanks for his return before trying to pull away. “I need to call for help and your father.”

Justin clutched her arm, “I don't want dad to know.”

Stroking his hair she shushed and calmed him, “There's someone else who'll help us. I need you to tell me what happened.”

He did. Lifting his navy t-shirt he revealed bruises on his chest and back, confided the brutal acts he'd been subjected to that no child should have knowledge of and definitely not have endured. He admitted taking a handful of Liz's pills to temporarily ease the pain so he could make the journey to her because he knew she’d fix everything.”

Justin needed her to nurse and strengthen him and she would. Carolina phoned Patrick for assistance and he arrived at the office door within mere seconds to drive them to a doctor known for his discretion. The graying, bespectacled physician secreted them into his offices, quickly treating Justin before murmuring instructions and cautions to Carolina. With a respectful look toward Patrick, the doctor sent them on their way.

While Patrick drove them back to her business complex, she called Dylan saying Justin had paid her a visit and wanted to spend the weekend with the twins. Dylan though immediately amenable to the situation, requested to speak with his son. Carolina sitting beside Justin, in the back of the black Cadillac Escalade, passed the lethargic child the phone, holding his hand to give him a burst of energy so he'd sound normal to his father. When Justin passed the phone back she allowed him to rest his head upon her shoulder, as she listened to Dylan questioning what the sudden change in events meant for them. Carolina could only say she'd call him in the morning.

Patrick escorted them back into her office then left abruptly, without even saying goodbye. She had Justin rest on a black leather sofa while she cleaned the area where he'd been sick. When Carolina was satisfied with the area's spotlessness she grabbed her gym bag from the safe, her briefcase from the chair and Patrick's bottle of whiskey from the bar, telling Justin they were finally going home.

****

That night at perhaps a quarter of ten, certain the twins and Justin were asleep, Carolina finally left them in their bedroom and made her way down to the study. Entering the room she flipped on the light and found Patrick sitting absolutely still on the edge of the desk with her gym bag at his side, his boyish face, and slim build camouflaging the predacious cunning of a crocodile.

Her voice warbled, “Patrick?”

Coldly he spoke, “I'm not an idiot Carolina. Did you think I wouldn't know?”

In his cool manner, he was angry. Carolina could tell his mood by the luciferous specks of orange and blue dotting his normally coffee brown eyes and she gulped down a mouthful of heebie-jeebies. Not trusting her voice, she nodded affirmatively.

Unzipping the gym bag Patrick spilled out two automatic pistols, several clips of ammunition, two pairs of brass knuckles, handcuffs, chains, padlocks, and banded stacks of cash onto the solid oak desk. He gave Carolina a probing look, “Why couldn't you ask me?”

She shrugged one shoulder, “I thought the ordeal would open old wounds.”

He drummed his fingers on the desk. “It won't. Ask me.”

Carolina took a deep breath and exhaled. “Patrick will you help me, help Justin?”

He ceased the movements of his fingers, his tone patient, “Maybe. Can he tell his father what happened?”

“Not yet. I'd think you'd understand. You were once like him. Villains stole his innocence. Now they will pay for their crimes,” she vowed.

Patrick waved his hand in the direction of the guns. “This you do for love, like you did for me. You've already given Justin back his life; don't risk yours for someone you hardly know.”

“I know him. He's a child who needs me. What more do I need to know?”

“That for you, killing isn't right,” he scolded.

She gave him a wide-eyed look of disbelief. “But for you, murdering is?”

“Yes, because it's my job and because my soul, as you understand it, is already assigned. You know this Carolina as you also know that while on the surface I appear human I am not and although I've taught you some of my ways, you must always remember weren't fired in the same kiln. You can never be identical to me.”

Carolina wanted his help, not another lecture on her reckless and inappropriate behavior. Her eyes grew dewy. “Please Patrick, he needs me and I need you, am begging you to do this.”

Patrick uncharacteristically lashed out at her, his voice low and biting, “Do you cherish him more than me, our history? What about the twins? Don't they need you? They're as innocent as he. You're their mother, which should mean more to you than defending the child of a man you claim you're not sleeping with.”

Carolina felt dry scaly coils strongly tightening around her middle, one of her greatest fears, but she held her ground, believing he'd never truly hurt her. Blinking rapidly she straightened her spine to say, “Though I've always loved them as my own, even before the deaths of their parents, regrettably the twins are not mine of womb as you very well know, nor do they honor me with any maternal or even familial reference. To them I've ever been 'Carolina' such as a stray animal along the road would be 'cat' or 'dog' and for six years you too have only referenced me as such, 'Carolina', to the point that from your mouths I grow weary at the sound of my own name, think by now I should have achieved a greater standing in all of your lives but it's not the case with you three. Yet I would walk barefoot through hell and make the return journey upon my hands and knees for the lot of you. Nevertheless, here you sit questioning my devotion because I have room in my heart to care for a violated and desperate child who needs the comfort of a mother. I can't fail Justin as I didn't neglect my call to avenge you or the responsibility to assume parentage of the twins.”

He walked over and clasped her hands firmly in his, studying her intently until she flushed the rose glow of dawn, then he quietly lectured, “Slaying demons for Justin won't bring you happiness. Let go of your anger before some innocent is seriously hurt or lost.”

Pulling her hands away from his she lowered her chin. “I'm sorry Patrick.”

“Spend time with Justin and the twins; take them all on vacation until this business blows over. I'll have tutors accompany you.” With continued scrutiny of her Patrick abruptly asked, “When were you going to tell me about Dylan?”

Although embarrassed by her earlier outburst and unable to meet his eyes, her reply was nonchalant, “It wasn't important. I slept with him once, nearly a month ago.”

With an index finger under her chin, he raised her gaze to meet his. “You had only ever desired me. But you'd have me believe sleeping with him didn't matter?”

Looking into his eyes, she whispered the truth, “Dylan says he's in love with me, calls me 'honey' in a tone that is sweet, sincere and sometimes seductive. He phones a dozen times a day leaving messages that he misses and needs me.”

“So there is something between you two,” an unvoiced, 'aha' shaped his words.

That he wasn't bothered by her disclosure annoyed her and she stated peevishly, “I told him to go away, that I'm happy alone. It's not my fault he's fixated upon me.”

Cupping her face in his hands, Patrick rewarded her with one of his rare smiles, “I don't blame you or him Gingernut. None of us can pick and choose whom to love; from experience we know that harsh truth.” Releasing her, he repositioned himself on the edge of the desk. “I'll finish this thing for Justin if you'll do something for me.”

She felt a flush of warmth at his use of his affectionate name for her that he hadn't spoken since the night of her brother's death. Getting the endearment past his lips, the special term he'd given her the moment he'd returned from death, opening his eyes to gaze upon her, had taken her sleeping with another man and she hoped the change, though small, meant he'd want to renew their physical relationship. She'd missed his focused and tender lovemaking, how he fused their bodies, then completely became one with her and she'd pleasured him thoroughly as well, had sometimes enticed him with her erotic zealousness to stay with her for weeks, times when she slipped into her happy fantasy that they were an ordinary couple. Tonight she'd make him want her again and she'd pleasure him in so many ways that he'd want to remain with her for at least a quarter-year. She heard him call her that sweet endearment again, 'Gingernut', and her bosom swelled in response. Straightening her posture so her breasts were in his direct line of vision and with a renewed sense of power, Carolina smiled seductively and bargained, “You'll get back all pictures and videos of him?”

“Everything,” he guaranteed, his face an unreadable mask.

“Okay,” she quickly agreed.

With a probing undertone to his voice, Patrick sought to clarify her response, “'Okay', as in you're listening and no longer daydreaming or 'okay', you're ready to do what I ask?”

“I'm ready,” she wholeheartedly assured him.

“Work at being happy with Dylan. Don't push him away because you feel obligated to me or because you're afraid,” he kindly counseled.

Carolina gave the man she'd always hoped would make their bond legal, a murderous look and only two things stopped her from reneging on her agreement. First, she really believed a divine power had answered her pleas and given Justin another chance at life, granting them another opportunity to be together, because she'd been terrified of giving one-hundred-percent of herself in performing the ritual. The other was that she knew no other way to help him aside from her original plan. Filled with misery, Carolina's mind flashed on the bottle of whiskey she'd stashed in the pantry. She didn't need to be sober while she worked at being happy. Defeatedly she asked, “Is that all?”

Patrick remained emotionless and indecipherable, his tone even, “Only a few more details. First, I brought gifts for the twins, clothes and necessities for Justin too.”

Carolina would have smiled in gratitude if she weren't miffed at being constantly spurned by him and now he'd resorted to manipulation to be rid of her, handing her off to another like a bag of used clothes that no longer fit. However, she'd not breakdown before him or beg him to take her back. She was growing used to being cast off, and if she fooled herself a bit longer, her entire being wouldn't hurt so much when he left again. “That was very thoughtful of you,” she remarked evenly.

“Generosity is my pleasure Gingernut. Now, the second issue, I've reclaimed my whiskey. Your father told me because of your temperament, you must never drink.”

Carolina was flabbergasted. “You've been spying on me.”

Patrick gave her his best 'who me' look. “Also I took the liberty of paying your staff for their vacations and bonuses since I knew you'd be busy with the boys.”

She gave a tight smile. “Thank you. Tell me the total and I'll write you a check.”

He waved her offer aside. “Lastly, for you, I have a token of my undying affection.” He retrieved a large gift box from behind the desk and placed it in her resisting hands. “Go ahead. Open your present.”

She gave in, and like kids on Christmas morning, they sat on the floor where immediately Carolina ripped away the violet ribbon from the package before tearing into floral wrapping paper. She took her time admiring the lid which was beautifully hand painted with stalks of lavender, inscribed with the words 'Devoted To You' and initialed P. C. D. As she peeled back layers of crinkling, white tissue Carolina's movements were halted by his hand on her arm. From the breast pocket of his black long sleeved shirt, he withdrew a quarter sized gold medallion. Draping the chain over her head, he positioned the medal to rest against her black T-shirt at the center of her breasts, “It's a blessed medal to protect abused children and the abandoned. I brought one back from home for each of us.”

Looking at him with fascination, believing where he'd been, she asked, “Will you ever allow me to see your true home as you did with Ciaran and Clover?”

“Yes. Now finish opening your gift.”

Resuming her forage in the box Carolina withdrew a large manila envelope, several data discs and two laptops. The loud sound of her heartbeat filled her ears. She steeled herself to open the envelope but Patrick stopped her with a look, letting her know she didn't need to see what was inside.

When very aroused her speech lilted, shifted and sometimes morphed to the dialect of hidden places, hinting at her past, and now she asked in such a fashion, “Tis everything?”

“I would have brought you their heads but I didn't want to deprive the wolves.”

“You didn't get hurt?” It was a question she asked out of politeness because since he was twelve and she'd brought him back that first time his response had been the same whenever he championed a cause.

Patrick gave her his classic untroubled look, “No, Gingernut I didn't.” Motioning with his hand to the items he'd recovered he advised, “Put those in a safe place. Give them to Dylan when the child is ready to discuss the matter, but is should be soon. Prolonging the disclosure will make an already difficult situation even harder.”

She nodded in agreement. “I'll talk with Justin.”

Patrick fixed his eyes upon her. “There are some serious loose ends, Liz and her boyfriend, but when the time is right I'll finish what I started.”

Carolina felt sick. “Why did she have him hurt?”

“She's depraved and the abuse was a means of getting back at Dylan for seeking sole-custody. If Justin lives full-time with him, Liz won't be paid any child support. So she planned to get what she felt she'd be loosing plus a considerable amount more.”

Carolina recalled what Dylan had said about his ex-wife, how Liz enjoyed twisting the knife and she felt her temperature rise. “That she'd do something so terrible is unforgivable and all for a few measly dollars.”

“Hundreds of millions Gingernut, she was planning to blackmail Dylan.”

Her spirits fell at learning of his wealth. She'd imagined him as a farmer or rancher and hearing that he wasn’t either had her feeling stupid for wasting her breath telling him the ancient ways of making his husbandry efforts plenteous. Her voice was bluesy, “He has that kind of money? I thought better of him.”

Patrick felt disesteemed, because he too had 'that kind of money', then realized she'd given herself to a man she knew nothing about and spoke to her as if she was unbelievably obtuse, “Dylan, his brothers and Justin are international music royalty.”

She shrugged then gave him a huge hug, nearly toppling him backward. “You're the only royalty I know. How will I ever make this up to you?”

He hugged her back with equal intensity, “I don't expect you to, but if you're offering I'll think of something.” Squeezing her a smidge tighter, he asked, “Gingernut, when I questioned your devotion a wee bit ago, were you afraid of me?”

She melted into the warmth of his embrace, snuggling closer. “Patrick I know you'd never hurt me and I could never fear you,” she maintained, taking his face in her hands to tenderly kiss his cherubic lips. With her embrace, she offered him solace as he did in return and they were as they'd been from their inception, taking comfort from gentle kisses and caresses. She crawled onto his lap, resting her head against his strong shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her to fulfill his promise, allowing her to drift off to his true seaside home in another galaxy.

Patrick, never loosening his hold on Carolina, got to his feet supporting her as if she weighed less than a packet of crisps, and carried her to her bedroom. Disrobing her sleeping form, he then slid a rosy-pink ‘Tinkerbelle’ nightshirt over her always-tempting body. Affectionately he tucked her beneath the covers then lay beside her, resting his head against her breasts, his left palm flat against her abdomen, experiencing a sense of wonder and for once, he wished he were permitted to be in love with her.

****

The following morning Carolina's internal clock wasn't responsible for her stirring. Instead, the pressure of a hard kiss against her lips, the taste and texture of a tantalizingly familiar mouth, roused her from slumber. Unguarded, she draped an arm across his muscular back. Moaning faintly, she smiled against his lips, easing the covers aside, inviting him in.

For a few seconds there was the rustling of clothes, then the clank of a heavy belt buckle hitting the floor, before she felt his nakedness, the hardness, his warmth beside her. She removed her nightgown, snuggling closer. Climbing on top of her, he feathered kisses across her upturned face as he took position at her entrance. He slid just the head of his penis into her starved opening, making her cry out in need. She craved the feel of his weight pushing into her, longed for the complete joining of their bodies, wanting his hugeness to stretch her until pain became pleasure. Cupping his muscular buttocks, she urged him forward, her body yielding as he advanced, her breath catching from the throbbing torture when he was but half-the-distance in. Her vagina voraciously gripped his shaft when he was planted root deep, strong fingers digging into his flesh, motivating him into movement. She clung to him as he slowly, rocked against her, teasing and tormenting, drawing out their reunion. His lips roamed her face and torso. Long fingers twined in her corkscrewing curls. Their steady rocking continuing, as her hands traveled up and down the muscled terrain of his body until she felt the gathering fireball of her pending climax behind her mons veneris and she clutched him to her, nails digging into his shoulders as a meteoric orgasm exploded within her body.

He continued his steady movements, the satiny plane of her stomach sliding against the slick steel of his six-pack as he felt her climax again, pleased that he'd given her such satisfaction. Withdrawing his rigid manhood, he flipped her onto her stomach and positioned her beneath him; pushing aside the heavy weight of her hair to trail his mouth down the center of her back until he reached the rise of her buttocks, then kissed the twin dimples on either side of her lower spine. His fingers kneaded the plump, firm cheeks as his knees nudged her thighs apart.

Hearing her purr, feeling her buttocks lifting rhythmically, he mounted her, lay prone atop her body, blanketing her with his full weight. Making one sure and emphatic stroke, he entered her still clenching vagina, adopting a strong rhythm that drove her deep into the mattress. Entwining his fingers with hers, he bit the side of her neck, sucking strongly in concert with the energetic bowing of his penis, each pull more poignant, every plunge more purposeful and despite his greater strength she lifted them up, urgently undulating beneath him, rocking and spanking her voluptuous rear against his loins until she was shuddering beneath him with the extreme intensity of her third orgasm, her lusty, lilting cries urging him on, making him drive harder and deeper into her until with one final, forceful thrust he came inside her tight, convulsing body.

When his breathing normalized, he rolled off Carolina, positioning her to lie in the crook of his arm. “Good gracious, you're stronger and tighter than any woman I've ever known.” Planting an unsteady kiss on her damp forehead, he twirled a strand of curling fire around his index finger, “I've missed being with you something fierce but we better get movin'. You overslept.”

She allowed herself the pleasure of stroking rippling contours from his chest down to his stomach where she fingered veined ridges standing out against the golden flatland. Stretching lazily she asked, “What time is it?”

Feeling his penis starting to harden again, he trapped her journeying hand before answering, “Near seven-thirty.”

She used her free hand to massage the corded muscles of his thigh. “What are you doing here?”

“If you have to ask I must have done something wrong,” he chuckled trying unsuccessfully to capture her other hand.

“You're a nut.” She kissed his shoulder while giving him a strong pinch high upon his inner thigh and heard his roar of ominous thunder. Startled she pushed away from him, resting her back against a mound of pillows asking, “Really, why are you here?”

He wanted her to pinch him again but didn't press the issue when he saw the bewilderment in her eyes. “Your friend invited me over for breakfast and-”

Before he could finish, the door opened and Patrick entered dressed in priestly black. Looking at Dylan, completely straight-faced he blamed, “You were only supposed to wake her. It doesn't take so long to rouse the dead.”

Given her recent encounter with Justin, Carolina felt the color drain from her face. “Patrick that's an awful thing to say.”

He gave a lazy shrug, “What's terrible is the inconsideration I'm dealt.” Not caring that Dylan was in her bed; Patrick walked over and leisurely kissed her lips. “You are always beautiful Gingernut, but especially in the mornings.” He kissed her again, his tongue contacting hers, tasting the concentrated honey flavor of dried persimmon. Dreading this time he stated reservedly, “I needed to tell you goodbye.”

Carolina felt herself growing misty-eyed and miserable. Although she was physically and emotionally aware of Dylan at her side, she still wanted and needed Patrick with her. “Stay for breakfast. Only Justin saw you yesterday. The twins will be disappointed they missed your visit.”

Putting a good measure of physical distance between him and her, Patrick admitted, “I'm sure Dylan's presence will overshadow my absence. But to ensure forgiveness I'll arrange driving lessons for the boys during your vacation.”

Dylan gave Carolina a questioning look, “You're taking the twins on a trip?” He'd hoped they'd start spending time together as a family right away.

“I'd like for us all to go. The boys can get to know one another better and you and I will have time to figure out what's between us.” Carolina thought her explanation was a reasonable modification of the truth.

Remembering the fierceness of her inner struggle the previous day, Dylan didn't completely believe her. “It's a great idea but I can't get away and I need to take Justin back with me this morning,” Dylan announced regretfully, making a mental note to talk with her later about her change of heart.

“But I promised him the whole weekend.” She'd wanted time to convince Justin that telling his father about what he'd suffered was the best thing to do. In addition, she needed time to monitor his initial recovery as the doctor had instructed.

“Sorry Carolina. You and the twins can come and stay with us though. There are tons of things to keep y'all busy. That is if you won't mind my brothers being around?”

She'd been willing to spend time with him, Justin and the twins, but she wasn't keen on the idea of more people. “No, I-”

Giving Carolina a cautioning look Patrick interrupted, “She'd love to. The twins will be floored when they meet your brothers.” Patrick focused his unblinking gaze on the other man saying, “I told her who you and your family are.”

Dylan was unmoved by the other man's accusatory stare and turned to address his words to Carolina, “I was going to tell you. The right time just never came around.”

Well how could it? She hadn't wanted to talk to him. Acceptingly she said, “Everyone has secrets.” She'd bet hers could totally outnumber and outweigh his.

“In my experience keeping secrets causes problems in relationships,” Patrick warned, giving Dylan a cold, hard look of inquiry. “What do you think Dylan? Would you be able to forgive someone for keeping serious issues from you?”

“It depends,” Dylan replied cautiously.

Carolina knew what Patrick was trying to do and she didn't like his arrogance. “Patrick Donovan, don't you have somewhere to go?”

“I'll soon be on my way.” Disregarding her threatening tone, he gave Dylan his full attention and broached a serious topic, “What has she told you about us?”

Even if Dylan had been blind, he would have seen there was something strong and binding between Carolina and Patrick, but he respected her, would wait for her to tell him whatever she wanted him to know. “Nothing,” he stated coolly.

Patrick's tone was open, “Here's your chance. What are you curious about?”

“If she has anything to tell me she will.” Dylan had sized up Patrick, discerning that despite the man's slight build and appearance of youth, he was someone to be very worried about. He didn't need the other man to reveal more.

Patrick gave a slight nod. “That's foolish but fair. One more thing Dylan. Last night I brought gifts for everyone and-”

“Patrick!” Carolina turned his name into a caution and a threat.

Again, he ignored her. “Since you weren't here I held on to this so I could give your surprise to you personally.” Pulling a folded paper from his back pocket, he passed the eldritch sheet of white to Dylan.

Accepting the quarter-folded unique vellum Dylan said politely, “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Please, open your gift,” Patrick instructed evenly, watching Carolina's wary eyes studying him.

Dylan gave the paper a suspicious look, then opened and read the contents. Muttering to himself, he reread the document before curiously contemplating Patrick. He then graciously offered, “I'm forever in your debt. How did you get this?”

Casually as if telling someone the time of day, Patrick replied, “I know people.”

Dylan waved the paper in the air, “Heck, I know people and I still hadn't gotten it.”

Patrick gave a lazy shrug, “The change becomes effective this Sunday. All the lawyers will have the official documents Monday. That paper just keeps Liz from picking Justin up this weekend. Your ex-wife will be notified later today.”

Carolina leaned closer to Dylan trying to read the document, “What is it?”

Dylan looked at her with undisguised surprise, “Sole custody of Justin.”

Not caring that Dylan was there, or that she was as bare as a Canadian Sphynx, Carolina squealed girlishly and jumped from the bed to rush into Patrick's arms. “Ye are my wonderful prince Patrick Donovan.”

Dylan studied the pair, paying close attention to their deep connection that he'd probably never be privy to and felt claws of jealousy tearing at his insides. He eyeballed Patrick, watching as he pulled away from Carolina to plant a tender kiss on her forehead, looked daggers at them as his eyes followed the trail of the other man's fingers down the center of her naked chest to the flat plane of her stomach where he halted momentarily before slowly retracing the path on her pale skin until they encountered, then lifted, the simple but priceless looking gold medallion she wore. Patrick, while gazing into her eyes, placed the emblem to his lips before letting it fall back between her breasts. He left then without a word and Dylan knew two certainties about Patrick. First, he'd intervened in the custody dispute only because of Carolina. Second, and most significantly, he was much more to her than a best friend.

Chapter 5

At breakfast, the twins were overjoyed to see Dylan, seemingly untroubled at missing Patrick and when they learned they were going to meet the rest of 'The Savages', Callum and Calder were figuratively bouncing off the walls. Justin wasn't pleased to see him though, and his questions about the boy's bruised face made his son clam-up. Dylan interpreted Justin's behavior as disappointment over not being able to stay with Carolina. He noted how the child rarely strayed from her side, helping her without being asked. What was also apparent was the marked change in the way Carolina treated Justin. Before she'd been caring but reserved. Now she was openly affectionate, often hugging his son as if needing reassurance he was there. When they'd decided to drive separately to his home Justin insisted on helping Carolina load her SUV with luggage, bags, boxes and the yellow planter of flowers he'd presented to her weeks earlier, calling dibs for her front passenger seat, leaving the twins to team up with him for the ride in his truck.

Dylan wondered at the changes in Carolina, not that he wasn't pleased that personal matters seemed to be going his way for once in a very long while, but he sensed without Justin, she wouldn't want him around. That she'd welcomed him into her bed that morning wasn't enough. What he wanted from her were deeper emotions that would make her look at him the way she looked at Patrick, as if he was her entire world and she'd be lost without him. For the remainder of the drive his mind was a hornet's nest swarming with images of Carolina in Patrick's arms.

****

When they arrived at his home, Dylan was surprised to discover not only his brothers there but their wives and kids as well. He doubted much work would get accomplished from the boisterous noises coming from the main house and pool areas. Ushering Carolina and the boys into the party atmosphere with laughing kids and blaring R & B music, Dylan gave her a look of apology, “My brothers didn't tell me the whole clan was coming.” He caught one of his littlest nephews as he went running by, giving the preschooler a bear hug before setting him back on his course.

Seeing Dylan with the mocha-skinned child clinging to his broad shoulders, Carolina wondered how he'd looked holding Justin as an infant. She would love to see pictures of them together, of his entire family. Being in his home was better than a vacation. Standing at his side with the bustle of happy people all around them was a taste of life she'd had before and the sense of family made her heart beat faster. He'd unknowingly brought her face-to-face with her greatest desire, a house full of children and a huge clan. “How many brothers do you have?”

He patted her hand reassuringly, “Three, all married, and each has six kids.”

Carolina felt such a tremendous sense of his mother and father in the house that she didn't hesitate to ask, “Will you introduce me to your parents?”

“Honey, they died before Justin was born,” he offered in a misery-tinged voice.

She heard his words, felt his loss, but, she sensed his parents were near, felt if she reached out they would take her hand and would’ve told him so if she didn‘t think he’d call the white-coat squad to have her hauled off for a seventy-two hour hold. Placing a comforting hand on his forearm she willed him to take in the nearness of his parents and their abiding devotion while empathetically saying, “I'm deeply saddened they're no longer with us. Someday please tell me about them.”

The sincerity in her voice underscored his adoration of Carolina and he couldn't stop staring at her. “After the extended family is gone we'll sit with the boys and I'll tell y'all about life with my Ma and Pa.”

Feeling uncomfortable in the light of his intense gaze she asked the first question that popped into her mind, “Where is everyone going to sleep?”

“The twins can bunk with Justin if they want but there's enough space for them to have their own rooms. This house has twelve bedrooms and there are two guest dwellings with six bedrooms each.” He was just finishing his statement when the twins and Justin dashed off after a couple of older boys armed with laser tag guns. Seizing the opportunity to stop her worrying Dylan navigated Carolina through the house and out to the patio, making introductions as they went, all the time checking her reactions to the mayhem and to her credit she appeared to be enjoying the amplified merriment.

With her hand in his, they walked to the far end of the pool area where the only couple she hadn't met was relaxing. His ginormous brother and his lovely wife, a hazel-eyed, African-American goddess, were relaxing on chaise loungers while four of their six kids splashed in the water a distance away. “Hey, I want y'all to meet Carolina.” Feeling her hesitation Dylan drew her closer to the reclining couple. “Carolina, this is my eldest brother Chris and his wife Vega.”

From her reposed position, Vega smiled warmly, “It's nice to meet ya Carolina.”

“You too,” Carolina replied completely in awe of the woman with her flowing auburn hair and delicate features. Vega was clad in a scant red sweetheart bikini top that was filled to bursting, matched with a ruched bikini bottom that emphasized her feminine charms. Carolina felt positive Vega impressed everyone she encountered. Her body was long and graceful with a pinched waist that looked to measure sixteen inches around. Carolina couldn't believe the feminine mold of perfection was the mother of six children. She felt like a frump in comparison, her pear-shape covered by a belted black silk sweater atop a salt-and-pepper tweed skirt.

Chris addressed his brother, “You know Dylan when you're expecting family you shouldn't go off to lay up with some aging piece of tail.”

Dylan groaned inwardly. “She's not a piece of tail. I had to pick up Justin from her house. Next time don't wait 'til the plane is landing to say you're comin'. No offense Vega, cause you and the kids are always welcome,” he finished hospitably.

Picking up on his cordial lead, Carolina extended her hand to Chris, an imposing presence of golden hair and skin. Taller and broader than all the other Savage men, he sat relaxedly next to his wife, covered only by a pair of deep sapphire-blue swim trunks. From Dylan's tone and expression, Carolina gathered Chris was extremely important to him and in turn she stated politely, “I'm honored, Mr. Savage.”

Christopher ignored the outstretched hand, considering her with the interest he would give a gnat. Snubbing her, he asked his brother, “Is she Justin's tutor?”

“No she's...” Well exactly what was she, Dylan thought, looking from Chris to Carolina. He stood staring at her, knowing the title he longed to bestow upon her, but he didn't want his sweet filly to get spooked, buck him off and gallop wildly for the hills. Therefore, he held his tongue and let his eyes reveal the many roles he saw her filling in his life.

Feeling strongly rebuffed by the elder Savage, but somewhat cheered by the reverent gaze Dylan was giving her, Carolina didn't allow her sorrow to show at not being immediately welcomed. She simply lowered her hand back to her side and offered in a smooth voice, “I'm Dylan's fiancee.”

Chris gave her a calculating stare, “You don't look like his type. My baby brother tends to like hot, rough action between the sheets gal. I don't see him satisfied by a frigid, straight-laced little thing like you.”

His wife playfully smacked his muscular thigh. “Chris, leave her alone.”

Dylan, shocked by Carolina's false claim, declared, “Sometimes you're a real pain Chris. Are you tryin' to scare her off?”

Tossing strands of wavy, chest-length, gilded hair over his sinewy shoulder Chris gave Dylan a penetrating look and replied, “Yep, I am. I failed at putting serious fear in Liz and we all endured untold misery with her in your life. The only decent thing she ever did was birth Justin and I still don't believe she's his mother. If he weren't your absolute miniature, I'd swear she abducted him and has been passing the boy off as your child. But Dylan, it's more like you had him yourself. There's not one drop of Liz in my godson. She never looked pregnant either, one day she was as flat as a sheet of paper and the next you called to say she'd delivered. Then you gave her five million dollars for birthing your son, which I still believe she demanded because you forced her to clean up her act for a few months. But whatever the case, what the devil kind of lunacy makes a man pay a woman for fulfilling her wifely duties?”

“She's a real piece of work,” the sneered statement was out of Carolina's mouth before she could stop herself, causing everyone to stare at her in surprise.

Vega, rubbing her husband's bulging bicep, asked sweetly, “So you've met her?”

“We had a bit of a run in the other day,” Carolina cautiously admitted, wanting Vega to think only the very best of her.

Dylan wasn't sure if Carolina was embellishing for the sake of his brother or not but felt compelled to express his worry, “Why didn't you tell me?”

Christopher's booming voice didn't give her a chance to answer, “What the hell is 'a bit of a run in'? I like plain speakin' gal. Do so around me or don't talk at all.”

Carolina didn't like that he kept poking at her. She was getting irritated and her voice didn't hide her annoyance, “Okay I'll cut through the polite bull. Liz threw wine in my face after accusing me of sleeping with her husband, which all took place in front of my clients during lunch. She and her pathetic ‘Nip Tuck’ posse stupidly followed me to the restroom where I shoved her skinny butt up against a wall and brained her two friends. I told her he was her ex and as soon as I could I'd engage Dylan in a shag-a-thon.”

Christopher gave a low whistle, “If you're telling the truth you've got grit. Liz is treacherous. If you two really are engaged why didn't you tell her you're marrying him?”

Feeling Carolina bristle at his brother's voiced skepticism, Dylan took her arm and started steering her away, “So I guess rehearsal is off for this weekend?”

Carolina gently extricated herself from his hold, saying sweetly, “I'm not finished talking to your brother.” Walking to stand looking down on Chris she asserted, “I didn't tell Liz because it's Dylan's responsibility to break the news to her. We've kept our relationship secret for nearly a year, even from the boys, because we wanted to be certain.”

Chris scowled at her. “He's my favorite brother and I've never heard a peep about you. Up until a few weeks ago he was considering getting back with Cruella or weren't you aware of that?”

Her voice was steady, “We talked extensively about Liz and the importance of family. Dylan wasn't raised to ever be divorced, none of you Savage men were.”

“Gal that's easy enough to see. We're at the core all family men, happily keeping our wives elevated on thrones that few women can even stand beside and our reward is an ever-growing clan. That you’re spoutin’ off the obvious to me only lowers my opinion of you, which is already ‘round the height if an iguana’s shadow, cause your story just doesn’t ring true. I believe you've only had a passing, platonic acquaintance with my little brother or any other man for that matter. You look and smell like unharvested ripe fruit that if left much longer in the orchard will go to rot. That maidenly pink blush of yours has me thinkin' you're on the aisle to spinsterhood gal, rather than matrimony. If my brother had bedded ya, plucked your berry from the bush, you'd have an entirely different luminance. When a Savage man takes his woman to bed the evidence of his full-blooded attentions shines from her face like the sun. You aren't glowing gal, nary a filament of sensual brightness is breaking through the chaste look you possess. I doubt if you've even been kissed,” Chris baited her.

Carolina felt as if she'd fallen into a pile of brambles and she came up fighting mad. “I'm not one of your fans and you don't have to like me. Nevertheless, you need to accept I'm marrying Dylan. Now concerning my sexual experience, I have not had a single complaint. That's why we're late. I'm on a strict diet of three orgasmic feasts a day and as many quickie snacks as I like. Dylan was aroused to jump-start my daily requirement. Isn't that right treacle bear?” She smiled enticingly at Dylan, hoping he would play along.

From the flushed look on Chris' face Dylan felt sure his brother was having a stroke. “We already took care of the essentials, now we just need to grab a bite here-and-there,” he answered her, watching as his brother's face grew redder.

“Well I guess we better go find a place where we can safely nibble away 'cause I get down right cranky when I'm hungry.” Carolina leaned over Christopher and peered deep into his aquamarine-blue eyes, “Go ahead and try to run me off. But you better come at me with everything you've got cause I don't scare easily.” Carolina walked over to Vega, taking the woman's fine-boned hand in her own, she brought the back of it to her lips before saying, “I look forward to being a part of your family.”

Dylan swooped up Carolina into his denim-covered arms, kissing her chastely on the tip of her upturned nose, hearing his brother's perplexed sputtering and Vega's thrilled laughter. Carrying her back to the house and through the unoccupied living room, he laughed low in his chest. “He's going to be after you now. Chris loves a good fight. I want you to make up with him so I don't have to spend the whole time he's here trying to save your hide.”

She whispered softly against his ear, “Are you worried about my hide?”

His steps faltered as her pleasantly warm breath thrilled him. “Yep.”

Chris was the farthest thing from her mind. Inhaling, she filled her lungs with Dylan's scent, pulsating energy, amber, rosewood, moss, cinnamon and a hint of comforting vanilla, felt her nipples harden beneath layers of silk and spandex as his hand supporting her stocking covered thigh began a feather-like caress. Pushing back golden strands of his hair, she traced the outline of his ear with one hand while undoing the buttons of his shirt to his waist with the other. She dipped one finger down, between rough denim and smooth flesh covered stone, stroking him, “When do I get my snack?”

“Right now,” he declared, releasing her thighs so she could slide down his front. Reaching behind him, he punched a code into a keypad and opened the door where he'd stopped. Stepping back into the darkness he drew her inside, listening as the door automatically locked behind them. When he pressed the switch to his right, recessed bulbs cast silvery light around oak and electric-blue walls. Stepping back he removed his shirt, watching for her reaction as he tossed his belt aside and unbuttoned his Levi's.

Carolina looked around the rectangular-shaped room with three walls displaying an arsenal of weapons, guns, swords and knives. Recalling his brother's words, she stepped back. “You want to do it in here?”

Still wearing his jeans and boots Dylan sat down on the brown leather bench in the center of the room, “Yes I do. The room is soundproof. No one can get in and you can't get out. Now take off your clothes and come here.”

She kicked off her black ballet flats then removed her clothing, allowing articles to fall gracefully to the floor. Standing before him in a pink satin bra and matching garter skirt, the smells of steel and oil excited her fiery spirit. Metals gleamed, beckoning, a dagger with diamonds on its blade and an emerald encrusted handle, more so than the rest. She knew he was studying her. “How beautiful, may I hold it?” Not waiting for his response, she walked to the heart of the case and removed the weighty weapon. Gliding back to him, she balanced the end of the razor sharp blade on the tip of her index finger.

Dylan sat in silence as she straddled his lap with the ancient knife still teetering on her finger, her eyes turning the exact color of the inlaid emeralds. With care, he slid his hands up the insides of her thighs, spreading her legs wider as she flipped the dagger repeatedly in the air, continually allowing the tip to land on her finger. Leaving her garter on, he snapped the sides of her thong, removed the delicate fabric, and finished unbuttoning his Levi's to slide into her warm valley. Lying back against the bench, he looked up to her. “Do that with your other hand while I make love to you.”

Entranced she kept playing with the tip. “No. If I miss you'll get hurt.”

Catching the dagger in mid-air, he transferred the blade to her right hand. “Now,” he ordered, thrusting forcefully into her, watching as she closed her eyes, sighing, tossing the dagger blindly, the sharp point landing on her fingertip well above his heart.

Withdrawing from her he lunged upward demanding hoarsely, “Keep pace with me.” Up, the weapon went, revolving in the air, the steel shining brightly, and then the sharp point came down closer to his chest, her hand trembling, and sweat beading her forehead.

“Let the blade come closer. I trust you.” He pumped into her steadily, feeling her body shake from the control needed to keep the dagger from plunging into his chest. “Honey you're so warm and wet. Move for me.”

Keeping her eyes closed she raised and lowered her hips on his rigid flesh. Tossing the blade up when he entered, balancing the tip when he pulled out, her insides quivering, her hand beginning to shake. “Dylan please stop. I can't-”

“Naw ya feel too good. Let the tip come a little closer, just a little closer.” Gripping her hips, he made her match the beat of his thrusts, forcing her to move faster, the shining blade cutting through the air like mesmerizing lightning. “That's it honey.”

She felt him throbbing inside her, the indentation of the blade on her fingertip, her hips and thighs aching from the pace he was forcing her to keep. The tension between her legs signaled she was ready for release and opening her eyes she saw the dagger loose its precise flow, flipping and rotating above him. “Dylan please stop.”

Watching her and the shining blade he breathed raggedly, pushing, thrusting, forcing himself harder into her, never slowing or doubting, “Closer honey, just a little closer, then let go. I want you to let go.”

The back of her trembling hand pressed tightly against his sweat-covered chest, his hammering heartbeat causing her hand to slip against his skin. The ramming of his unyielding manhood drove her beyond common sense as she caught the sharp blade on her finger, the only barrier between him and certain injury. He thrust harder and she groaned his name, flicking the dagger high in the air, her eyes locking on his.

Holding her gaze, he released her hips to grab her wrists tightly, stretching her arms back, making her arch forward as he plunged mightily, the force lifting her up, his voice gruffly demanding, “Honey, I want us to watch each other come.”

The quaking rocked her body, her arms straining to be free to catch the blade but he wouldn't release her. His body arched into hers, spurting forth his hot ejaculate. His eyes remained fixed on hers as she helplessly watched the blade's rapid descent and with staunch determination to protect him Carolina in the grip of a reality-bending orgasm, closed her eyes, focused invisible bands of energy and extended her rigid tongue to feel the pointed tip of the dagger land like a feather. There she balanced the priceless implement of torture as her body continued convulsing.

Dylan felt another orgasm slam into him at the sight of her unbelievable determination and strength, the force of his eruption knocking her off balance, sending the dagger back toward the ceiling. He released her arms, quickly flipping her beneath him to grad the shining blade expertly from the air. Lowering his mouth to hers, he sipped at her lips, sampling her spicy sweetness. With his thirst quenched he crisply confided, “I didn't like being shut out of your life, made to stay away from you for so long and I didn't like Patrick freely handling you this morning. Do you understand honey?”

Raising her head, she kissed him on both cheeks before apologetically touching her lips to his, “Yes I understand treacle bear.” Sliding from beneath him, she smoothed her garter-skirt down over her naked rear before taking the dagger from his hand. Walking to the door, she kept her back to him and the case where the knife belonged. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the lance torpedoing over her shoulder.

Dylan felt the blade glide past his ear, turning in time to see the dagger land perfectly on its stand. Returning his gaze to her, he found Carolina facing him, leaning against the door, silently waiting. Rising to his feet, Dylan leisurely righted his attire. Gathering her clothes, he walked to where she stood and dressed her, tucking her torn thong into the front pocket of his jeans. When he was done, he stood heatedly staring at her until her lips parted. He then lowered his head so his tongue could lay siege to her mouth. Reaching around her, he punched the exit code into the keypad. When he heard the system disengage, he opened the door and swung her up into his arms seriously cautioning, “Remember no more fighting with Chris.”

****

Dylan carried her back to the unoccupied living room where he deposited her on a camel-colored sofa then sat beside her. Needing to set the record straight she informed him assertively, “He started sniping at me first.”

He stroked her tweed-covered thigh. “You're my heart honey and he's my big brother, end the battle. I won't take sides.”

She felt her whole body tremble at his simple words and touch. Impressed by his quiet authority and power she instantly wanted to comply, however being a scrapper she asked sweetly, “What if I think you’re worth fighting for?”

Dylan's hand stilled its movement and he searched her eyes. “Where's all this coming from? For weeks, you haven't wanted to see me. Then out of nowhere you call, telling me Justin wants to stay with you. This morning we loved each other like we've never been apart, then you tell my brother we're engaged, claiming we've been having an affair for months and just now, you risked your life for me. What's going on?”

Inhaling deeply, she confessed, “First of all, what I said about us being engaged just flew out of my mouth because I was hurt by the things your brother was saying and I wanted to shut him up. Yesterday when you came to my office, I was fighting the connection I feel to you, growing more set against seeing you again because I felt you and the twins were pushing me. I don't respond well to being pushed.”

He thought she responded beautifully when he pushed her. “That's why you locked horns with Chris?”

She nodded. “Yesterday I had the fight with your ex. Once again I felt pushed.”

“Okey-doke.”

“Then Justin was at my office when I got back. We talked and he helped me see I'd been selfish so I promised to be more open minded.” Her statement wasn't exactly the truth, she thought, but it would have to do.

“But you still felt pushed?”

“Yes I did and even Patrick told me I should give you a chance, try to be happy.”

“Still, being with me wasn't your idea?”

“No, but this morning when you made love to me our being together felt right, like we'd known each other forever and I'd been missing the best part of myself.”

In his mind, Dylan gave a great whoop of victory at her saying 'made love to' instead of 'had sex with'. “The dagger just now, what was that?”

“Madness, danger and mind-altering sex,” she admitted passionately.

For him, her abilities were much more. “Where do we go from here Carolina?”

Her flame dimmed as the wind of uncertainty blew across her. “I know you want me to love you,” she spoke hesitantly.

“That's what I need. But for now tell me what makes you comfortable.”

“I'll keep the kids in the equation this time. I really messed us up before.”

“Only if you don't feel pushed to define what's between us solely for their sakes. I want your decision to be ninety-five percent you and five percent everyone else.”

“Alright, I think you're sexy and charming. You're a quiet force instead of a tornado or hurricane, which appeals to me. A huge plus is that you're great with the boys. Your openness and readiness for commitment humbles me. You're a skilled, considerate, demanding and slightly insane lover, the second best I've ever had and I get wet every time you do that rugged-Texan, Powers Boothe, Tommy Lee Jones, thing with your voice, which is almost always. We appear to have similar styles and tastes. Lastly, although Patrick told me you're a musician, I know at heart you're a farmer and rancher, with the superbly fragrant flower fields and robust horses I smell around us and that makes me absolutely wild for you.”

It was a darn good list but he was upset. “The second best? Who's the first?”

“Patrick,” she answered candidly, confirming the impression they'd already given.

Dylan had suspected as much, possibly more, but he'd wanted her to tell him honestly. “Tossing out the best lover part and considering the rest, how do you see me fitting into your life? Would your family have approved of me?”

“Yes.”

“What about Patrick?”

“He wants me to be happy with you.” She hoped her sadness was imperceptible.

Dylan didn't think he would be so tolerant. “How 'bout the runaway groom?”

“Absolutely.” Her treacle bear was immeasurably more to her than that snake in the grass.

He felt pleasurable pains in his chest and stomach, asking, “What am I to you?”

“Almost everything,” she whispered, the realization shocking, and even more stunning was her honest admission, because she was very adept at guarding her sensitivities.

Dylan pulled her close, kissing her lightly on her cheek, “Then marry me honey?”

She wasn't surprised by his proposal but she was terrified of moving forward as much as she feared disappointing him. In a pleading tone she submitted, “I'd like to pretend a little while longer.”

Placing a tender kiss on her lips, he then cupped her cheeks in his hands, fingers accustomed to strumming and picking setting a soothingly compelling tempo along the lines of her jaw and against the soft and silken pout of her lips he agreed and demanded, “Honey, just a little.”

Justin and the twins exuberantly bounded into the room, as Dylan was releasing Carolina, who sat with a pleasurably dazed expression on her face. The young trio’s voices unified and they didn’t try to hide their excited anticipation as they asked, “Guess what Uncle Chris told us?”

Dylan smiled, liking the fact that, on some level, the twins already knew they were a part of the clan. “Did he tell you he has a pet boa named stretch?”

The twins chimed in awe, “No. Does he?”

“Yep, he does,” Dylan replied.

“Sweet,” the twins cheered.

It figures, Carolina thought, alarms going off in her head. “What did he tell you?”

Justin gave her a heart-melting look. “He told us you guys are getting married.”

Dylan and Carolina looked at each other, both thinking that was a ‘little while’ indeed, and in unison questioned, “Did he now?”

“Yeah. So Dylan that means you'll be our new dad legally,” hoped the twins.

“And this time you'll be my mom forever,” Justin declared.

“Yes that's what it means,” Dylan and Carolina told the boys and their shouts of happiness filled the massive residence.

Chapter 6

They’d made love twice since arriving home, once in the gunroom and again when they'd taken her luggage upstairs to the bedroom he insisted they share, where he'd, not bothering to remove a single stitch, tumbled her sweet giggling self back on the smooth, king-sized comforter. Scrunching up her skirt, he'd ridden her hard. Time after time telling her how much he'd missed her, stroking her soft thighs that were wrapped tightly around his waist as he moved in and out of her warm wetness with single-minded determination to erase her memories of Patrick. However, his heart had overruled his ego, mellowing his thrusts, easing him into loving her because he needed to as much as he needed to breathe, not because he was envious and resentful.

Poetically he'd professed how happy he was to finally have her home. His lips had coaxed hers into tender, biting kisses. His hips rolled against her until he'd felt her trembling begin. Her hands had clutched him to her as she'd chanted foreign words he hadn't understood but had guessed meant something pretty darn good because she'd arched her back making a long lusty sigh before he'd found his own release. As their passion subsided, their boys knocked on the door calling him out for a game of laser tag.

In the few short seconds required to button his jeans, kiss her so long and walk out to meet his sons, was all the time needed for his bitter thoughts to resurface. Visions of his sweet Carolina spread as wide as the Texas sky, being licked and nibbled by Patrick until she had an orgasm that was off the Richter Scale, filled his head. Therefore, when he'd teamed up with his boys against his brothers and several of their kids he'd imagined Patrick at the business end of his toy gun, successfully wiping out his opponents in record time. However, that had been a game. His reality would most likely be a harder victory to claim, so his jealous preoccupation continued.

Now it was lunchtime and he was sitting beside Carolina in the long ranch-style dining hall that easily accommodated his huge family. Picking up her horseshoe designed napkin he shook out the square of heavy cotton then smoothed the fabric across her lap. He wanted to know more about the man occupying his thoughts, someone powerful enough to bend the judicial system to his will, her best friend who overshadowed him as a lover, a man whose significant wealth was made apparent when he sent three full-time private tutors for the boys and two delivery trucks overflowing with gifts for everyone in the clan. Resting his palm on her thigh, he asked firmly, “What does Patrick do for a living?”

His hand branded her skin through the thick cotton napkin and her tweed skirt but the heat wasn't sufficient to set her tongue to indiscriminately wagging about Patrick. Resting her chin on the heel of her hand she replied, “He has various interests. I've helped him with some land acquisitions. But mostly I'd call him a fixer.” She gave him the answer that was best, not nearly the truth of who or what Patrick was.

He wondered if she practiced being vague. “A fixer?”

Persistence thy name is Dylan she thought. “He fixes things like the main character in the movie 'Michael Clayton', just on a larger scale.” Carolina looked around the table seeing that everyone had food except for her. “I'm starving. Why am I the only one with nothing to eat?”

She wasn't fooling him. Charles Bronson also fixed things in 'The Mechanic'. He nudged his plate in her direction, “Take mine.”

“No, I'll wait. But, I’m getting a headache. Your brother is doing this deliberately.”

Dylan silently admitted to himself that she was probably right, but cheerfully tried placating her, “Vega told me he was going to make you some chili.”

Carolina felt her body tingle at the thought. It was one of her favorite foods, but she hadn’t consumed any in over six years. Looking toward the kitchen in anticipation, she excitedly told Dylan, “Oh, I love chili. I'll stop complaining.”

With a firm squeeze of his fingers on her upper thigh, he made her look at him. “Obtaining tutors for the boys was very generous of Patrick. I'd have hired them if you'd told me that's what you wanted. They're my-”

Abruptly she stood dislodging his hand. Her head throbbed and she didn't want to talk about Patrick. Excusing herself she offered, “I need to get something for this pounding in my temples.” If her healing powers could extend to the hellacious headaches, she'd been experiencing over the last few weeks she'd be ecstatic.

Dylan watched her leave thinking she was only prolonging the inevitable. Turning his attention to Justin sitting at the far end of the table with the twins, Dylan studied his somewhat serious child for several minutes. Since the previous weekend, he seemed to have a deepened sense of sadness about him despite the presence of Carolina and the twins. Perhaps, when Justin learned he would no longer be living with Liz, his disposition would brighten.

Dylan felt the brush of lips on the top of his head. “I'm back,” Carolina told him as she retook her seat, placing a large bowl of chili on the table in front of her.

Dylan inhaled in the bold pungency, the overpowering spiciness of the concoction he thought nobody ate except Chris. Letting out a series of sharp ahchooes, his eyes began to water. “Did my brother give you that?”

“Nope, there were a couple of pots on the stove so I helped myself from the one that was almost empty then I washed the pot. I wouldn't want Chris thinking I'm a slob.”

Dylan was amazed she appeared oblivious to the breathtaking stench of hot pepper blasting from the bowl. “Did you take anything for your headache?” That was going to be the least of her ills if she actually tasted that brown capsaicin concoction, he thought.

“I just need to eat. Do you want some?” She offered him a spoonful.

He grimaced. “I think you should let it alone. Nobody can stand Chris' chili.”

She sniffed the curls of steam rising from the bowl. “The aroma is stimulating.”

Dylan couldn't allow her to eat the stuff. Taking the spoon from her hand, he was preparing to swipe the bowl when he heard a loud bellow from the kitchen. Meeting her startled eyes he announced, “We better get outta here Chris is gonna be on the warpath.”

“Why? I left plenty of chili in the other pot.”

“That's the problem. This is his chili. That other stuff was for you.”

“Well I haven't eaten any. He can have the whole bowl.”

There was a loud stream of cussing, then the bang of what sounded like a pot being tossed to the stone floor before his older brother, dressed in faded Wrangler's and a heather gray polo, stormed in with murderous design whirling in his narrowed greenish-blue eyes. Dylan told Carolina from under his breath, “Apologize very nicely and he'll calm down.”

She whispered back, “I will.” Turning to the furious, towering mountain, she had to look a great distance up to meet his gaze and apologized appealingly, “Chris I'm so sorry.”

“You threw my chili out,” he accused loudly.

“She didn't. That five-alarm concoction is right here,” Dylan defended her. “You can have it back she didn't eat any. Heck, nobody can. That stuff is toxic.”

At Carolina's loud, “The aroma is delectable,” the entire room fell silent.

Christopher Savage gave her a doubting look, his voice becoming low and coaxing, “Try some.”

Giving a little shrug Carolina took her spoon back from Dylan and delicately sampled the chili. The thick spicy mixture caressed her tongue causing her eyes to roll back, intense heat infusing her body. “Oh my,” she sighed lustily. Mindless of the people around her she ate another, larger spoonful, felt more heat pulse throughout her system, her headache disappearing. Inhaling deeply she ate more, letting out seductive aahs after every swallow, shifting restlessly in her chair as the chili slid down her throat, igniting flames of pleasure from the tip of her tongue, to the pit of her stomach, then beyond. With eyes closed in euphoria, she continued eating, insensible to the stares and throat clearing taking place around her. She finished, running a finger around the inside of the earthen bowl to claim the last smears of edible magma. Popping the digit in her mouth she sucked it clean before licking the silver spoon with long sensual strokes of her tongue until she only tasted metal and with disappointed, kittenish mewls she opened her eyes to find the dining hall empty except for Dylan, Chris and Vega.

Dylan had been transfixed by the glow that surrounded Carolina as she ate. Her normally pale skin had taken on a rosy-gold light he associated with the dawn and the sounds she'd made were similar to the lusty cries she voiced when he was deep inside her. He thought Carolina looked like she'd been the recipient of some serious and thorough lovemaking. Dazed and concerned he asked, “Carolina, are you alright?”

Giving a delicate sniff, with eyes half-closed, she replied huskily, “That was unbelievable and my headache is gone.”

Dylan glowered at his brother. “What was in that chili?”

Chris replied sheepishly, “Well... Beans, meat, tomato, a heck of a lot of peppers and some herbs and stuff I pick up when I'm in the Philippines.”

Hearing the suspect inflection his brother gave to the phrase 'herbs and stuff' Dylan shouted, “What kind of herbs and stuff'? Nobody reacts to regular chili like that.”

Quietly Vega interjected, “To Chris' chili, I do.” Stepping into Chris’ embrace, Vega met her husband's lips for a passionate kiss that lasted a long time until he released her to slide his arm from around her waist. She felt him take a moment to tighten the fabric belt of her vista blue dress before he allowed his hands to smooth down her hips to caress the curve of her taut buttocks. Unable to resist, she leaned into him, twined her fingers into the gold of his hair and pulled his lips back down to hers for an ardent kiss that lasted until Dylan's persistent coughing interrupted them. Reluctantly she left her husband's hold, concentrated with all her might to deny her desire. Feeling the vacancy of need settling low in her stomach and traveling further down into the apex of her thighs, Vega took in deep pacifying breaths of her husband’s calming sea breeze scent. Somewhat composed she mouthed a silent plea to Chris before waggling her manicured fingers in farewell to Carolina, and with a familiar wink at Dylan, she sailed from the room, the erotic roll of her hips making the blue skirt of her dress undulate tsunamically.

Standing on legs that were unsteady Carolina faced Chris. “Hands down, that was the best I ever had. I take back everything I said earlier. I'm definitely a fan.”

He already had Patrick to worry about; he didn’t want Chris setting his sites on Carolina. Disgusted by the light of reverence she was bestowing on his brother, Dylan muttered harshly under his breath before rising from his seat. “I'm telling you to let her alone. This isn't like when you stole Vega from me.”

With admiration in her voice Carolina turned to Dylan, “You dated Vega?”

“Yeah, for a bit,” he responded absently, while shooting daggers at Chris.

Dropping her voice sultrily, she pressed her body against Dylan’s, letting him feel her arousal ands asked saucily, “Did you sleep with her? 'Cause if I had, I would've been all over her like a bee on Blood Red wallflowers during the day and a moth atop Rosa Margaret Merril's milky-white blooms at night. Lord, just to be near her... She is divine, perfection, with her flawless skin, sensuous curves and ample breasts. To be a babe born to suckle happily upon her delectable teats would be a delicious treat. Oh and her lips are so plump and scarlet-red, like Dragon's Wing. I bet you couldn't take your eyes off her mouth when she slid your long lance between her lips. I shall have to get myself a fine scarlet-red rouge to plump up my mouth so I can similarly please you.”

Dylan noted the shift in her manner of speaking, a blending of lightly lilting Irish brogue, coastal California tonality and some mysterious dialect he found very appealing. Holding her close Dylan shushed her before her excited descriptions made him climax. “That's not the point,” he stated awkwardly. He was familiar with Vega's many assets, but didn't care to recall them in the presence of her husband, his own brother and the fierce look Chris was giving Carolina made Dylan want to secure her in the gun room until all of his bed-hopping brothers were safely back in Texas. Still holding her close he spoke over her head to Chris, “I know, like the rest of the Savage couples, you and Vega have certain, special marital agreements, but I'm warning you not to try and lure Carolina into your relationship.”

Speaking into Dylan's chest, she inquired, “Special marriage?”

Stroking her hair Dylan told her, “Never mind.” Shooting his brother a withering look, he reproached him, “You see what you're starting? I don't want to worry that you, Jesse or Frank are trying to bed Carolina.” Dylan knew that no matter how much his brothers loved him if one of them set their sights on her he would be in for a hard battle.

Chris gave his brother a forthright look, “I'm not planning to take her from you. She wasn't supposed to eat that chili. That pot was for Vega and me. We had sampled a good bit and went off to cool down, if you get my meaning. The other stuff was for her.”

Dylan didn't believe him. “Give that explanation to somebody who doesn't know you. I'm asking for your hand to God that you'll forget everything that happened that you won't go running to Vega making suggestions.”

Chris pursed his lips remembering how Carolina had moved the spoon in and out of her mouth, the sensual motions of her tongue against the silver and told his brother honestly, “Hell naw. Shit, nobody's gonna forget. But, I won’t bed her. You better marry her quick though, before some other men, besides us Savages, get their eyes opened to her allure.”

Pulling Carolina from Dylan's arms Chris turned her to face him, lowered his head to peer intently at her and she gave him a playful smile. Standing on tiptoe, she placed a shy kiss on his cheek and he felt burned to his core. Grinning broadly, he asked seriously, “Are you ready to marry my baby brother?”

Carolina's main thought was that she missed the security of Dylan's arms. “As soon as we can set the date and make the arrangements.”

Chris pressed the issue, “How bout next weekend?”

Giving a small shake of her head Carolina repeated, “Next weekend?”

Dylan saw that Chris' question had a sobering effect on her. Felt she'd never intended marrying him. He wasn't sure how he felt about Chris' meddling but he was positive this time he wanted a marriage that would last. “Chris, Carolina and I were-”

“Next weekend will be great,” her clearly decided voice interrupted Dylan. “Our family is already here except Patrick for me and he'll make time. We can get married next Sunday.” Although her head felt, well, swirly, Carolina knew she could make their marriage work. She liked Dylan and he pleased her, maybe in time those things would grow into something greater.

Dylan felt afraid of failing again, “You want to get married so soon?”

Carolina looked into his handsome face, “Don't you want to marry me?”

He needed to wed her, grow old with her, and die in her arms. He just didn't want her to desert him ever. “Of course,” he declared, all the time thinking what he needed to do was make sure she couldn't leave by becoming first in her life, above Patrick, the twins, Justin and the secrets he felt certain they were keeping.

Looking at the couple, Chris declared with satisfaction, “Well that's settled. I'll tell everybody.” Walking away Chris knew he would be delayed in spreading the word, knowing Vega was lying in bed ready for him again, as he was for her, courtesy of Carolina.

Waiting until Chris was out of the room, she ordered with a good degree of concern, “Sit down. I don't want you to faint.”

Taking up a chair, Dylan watched as she knelt before him. Her thick, red hair inviting his touch and he grasped large handfuls. “Why did you change your mind?”

She rested her palms on his thighs, her voice enticing, “I can make you happy.”

His hands stilled their play in her hair. “How are you gonna do that?”

“By doing this for starters.” Quickly unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans she released his massive erection, immediately lowering her head to kiss his tip.

“We shouldn't be doing this here. Somebody is bound to walk in.”

“Then I'll have to hurry.” She licked him from tip to base, taking his twin gems into her mouth, juggling them against her tongue. Feeling his fingers tighten in her hair she flicked her tongue along the underside of his shaft. Grasping him by the base, she roughly slapped his rigid length against her mouth, rubbed him over her face before engulfing his entire length, sucking him as if he were a triple-thick milkshake.

“Honey I hear footsteps.” He hoped it wasn't one of the kids. The appearance of any of the clan's children within the room would earn him a first-class trip to the deepest regions of perdition for his disrespectful behavior. He was trying to pull out of her mouth when she nipped him hard enough to let him know she meant business and he lost control. The residual burn from the peppery chili on his engorged penis and the sensual suffering of her strong teeth sinking into his sensitive skin made him yank himself out of her mouth. In one fluid motion, he lifted and impaled her on his throbbing rod, forcefully driving in and out of her moist valley. He gripped her round buttocks, squeezing and massaging handfuls of smooth buttery flesh. He tamped down his desire to slap his palms against her rump as he would the conga drums, denying himself the erotic music she'd make. However, the thought of her bottom quivering as his hands would grow hotter with each blow and the throaty cries he imagined she'd make had him letting loose his load. In satisfaction, he sighed her name against her breasts.

She pressed his face into her cleavage, stroking his golden mane, “Are you happy Dylan Savage?”

He kissed her sweater-covered bosom. “I'm well-pleased honey, well-pleased.”

At his admission and with the feel of him sucking her nipple through layers of fabric she climaxed. For a long time her body convulsed as she held him close. After five minutes she was still quaking, blushing like a maiden when he lifted an eyebrow at her in astonishment and she bashfully admitted, “So am I.”

****

They’d showered and changed into jeans, white tees and boots so he could take the twins horseback riding as he'd promised. On the way to the stables, with Justin and the twins hurrying ahead, he and Carolina strolled together in the late afternoon warmth with his arm draped over her shoulders. Kissing the top of her head he asked, “Do you want to ride with me? Or can you handle a horse of your own?”

Knowing Justin shouldn't ride yet she bowed out, casually saying, “I'll just watch.”

“Maybe you'll come out with me in the morning for a ride?”

“It's a date.”

“Speaking of dates, are you sure about the wedding? I don't want you to regret marrying me.”

“Yes I want to get married and I won't regret it. Oh and remind me to get that chili recipe from Chris. My head hasn't felt this good in days.”

“It's great the two of you are getting along.”

“I know. I want him to like me.”

“He does.” Dylan just hoped it wasn't too much liking on Chris' part.

“I think I'm too outspoken, too wild. Think about the things I've done since meeting him, the statements I made about his wife. I don't regret my actions. But, I’m sure none of my carrying on has endeared me to him as a sister. I'll have to be more sweet and nurturing around him. Then he won't be able to find fault with me.”

“You remember what you said about Vega?”

“Every word. When you’re ready, you'll have to tell me all about her.”

“You're not jealous?”

“Nope.”

Arriving at the stables Dylan confessed, “I'm jealous of Patrick with him being your best and probably your first too, judging by the way he acted this morning.”

Turning to him, Carolina slid her palms up the muscles of his chest. Meeting and holding his deep-blue gaze she assured him, “I don't need you to be my best, or my first. I need you to be my last. I know this is all crazy. I pshaw love at first sight, don't even trust what love is supposed to be. But the nights we were apart I'd dream about being with you and every morning I missed the feel of your arms around me.” Sliding her hands up to his neck Carolina urged his head down to hers, molding her lips to his.

Dylan felt the heat of her kiss scorching him, every flick of her tongue in his mouth a welcome jolt of invigorating electricity. The blood drumming in his ears smothered the sounds of the stable employees, his boys and the horses, his heart beating faster than he'd ever experienced. With his sons so near he felt self-conscious about the intensity of his need and the physical evidence that he felt pushing against the fly of his jeans. With iron will, he pulled the plug on his desire, immediately feeling an ease to the tightness in his breeches. With great regret, he ended the kiss and although her words had moved him, she hadn't acknowledged the one thing he needed to hear. Looking into her eyes and stroking her cheek, he let her see his disappointment. He finally stepped away from her when he saw chastised color creeping into her cheeks and he called to the boys, “Have y'all decided which horses you'll be riding?”

Standing next to a pair of spotted horses Callum and Calder nodded to Dylan but Justin walked over to his father and Carolina declaring, “I don't feel like riding.”

Taking Justin's hand in hers Carolina pulled him to her side. “You can keep me company then.” Apologetically she told Dylan, “Go ahead. We'll wait right here.”

Dylan narrowed his eyes at Justin, “Why don't you want to come along?”

“I just don't,” Justin replied unable to meet his father's intense gaze.

With suspicious eyes, he glared at Justin and Carolina. “The twins are looking forward to this. Why did the two of you come out here if you weren't gonna ride?”

Carolina protectively pulled Justin closer to her side. “They'll be happy even if just the three of you go,” she guaranteed him.

“Yeah dad, they think you're the greatest,” Justin's voice shook slightly.

Giving Carolina and Justin another intensely displeased look Dylan turned and lumbered over to the twins who were each already sitting astride their mounts. He swung himself up into the saddle of his chestnut thoroughbred and calling to the twins, they set off at a gentle walk. Dylan surveyed the boys' horsemanship and outwardly praised them for the skill they demonstrated. Before long, he allowed Calder and Callum to urge their Appaloosas into a trot, taking pleasure from the sight of them enjoying themselves. With the same speed he'd fallen in love with Carolina, Dylan had grown deeply connected to the twins, felt for them as he'd the first time he'd held Justin.

Urging Sorrel to slow, Dylan cast a hurt look back at the truant members of the riding party. Seeing the two of them engrossed in conversation, not paying any attention to the twins or himself, made him realize that one of the qualities he admired most in Carolina, her ability to care for his son, was now a burr under his saddle. Urging his horse into a canter Dylan tossed aside his sense of gloom for the remainder of his ride, pushed down gnawing mistrust fueled by years in a mephitic marriage.

When they'd all returned to the house, after he'd joyfully announced being awarded Justin's sole-custody, his doubts came rushing back. Waves of mistrust wiped him out when he searched for, but couldn't find her. Then he discovered Justin was also missing and his mood became as volatile as a storm tossed sea.

****

Carolina sensed Dylan was having issues with the amount of time she and Justin spent together. Stealing away from the main house so he wouldn't see them, she and Justin walked across the grassy lawn and through a thick of trees where they sat under the large canopy of a weeping evergreen. She took Justin's hands in hers beseeching, “Please tell your father what happened.”

“I don't think I can,” he expressed nervously.

“I can only imagine how difficult it seems, but you're a survivor and the therapist Patrick sent here will help you, as will I. I fear if you don't tell your father what happened he'll start imagining scenarios and by the time you do confess your ordeal to him, he’ll send me, and the twins away because I haven’t been honest, have been keeping this very important matter from him.”

He looked at their joined hands. “I can't. You're my mom, you tell him for me.”

She didn't want to tell Dylan either. She stroked the boy's cheek with an unsteady hand, “We'll wait a few more days and see how you feel. Justin, know that those men who hurt you can never do so again.”

He gave a noticeable shudder and sniffed over his tears. “The news reports they've gone missing.”

She hugged him close to her heart, told him how much she loved him, yet still she felt his fear. Kissing his cheeks she assured him, “Baby don't worry, Patrick took care of everything, sent them far away. Know that you're safe and adored by us all.”

Justin clasped her hand in his and looked at her searchingly, “You're really going to marry dad aren't you? We're finally going to be together again.”

She squeezed his fingers reassuringly. “I'm planning on it.”

He still had doubts. “If you two don't get married then what happens to me?”

In a rush of intense emotion she squeezed him fiercely to her, “You will always be my son. If we can't live together as a family, then we’ll live apart, but I’ll never stop loving you. I never did.”

He eased out of her hold to look longingly into her eyes. “Please mom, make sure dad marries you.”

For years, she'd seen the same yearning on her own face every time she looked in the mirror, the desperate desire to belong, to have a sense of permanence. “I'll do everything I can, my precious child.”

****

Sitting in the darkened bedroom, acoustic guitar in hand and an open bottle of Jack Daniel's at his feet, Dylan hummed an old Al Green tune, sinking further into despondency, a malady that was meshed with his musical genius. There wasn't a song he couldn't sing or an instrument he couldn't play, but the intense emotions required to do so haunted him, made him mercurial some days and on the really bad ones, well they defied description, often resulting in his search for oblivion.

Pausing in his musical Niagara of wretchedness, Dylan took a healthy swig of whiskey before resuming his trance like rendition of 'For the Good Times'. Mentally he cursed himself for being open to heartache. His life was a cruel joke. Women across the globe wanted him but the ones he cared for never truly loved him, except for his mama and August. His failings and flaws hadn't once changed their opinions of him. However, his Ma was gone and August was consumed with so many responsibilities that he didn't bother her for reassurances although he knew she'd stop the world for him.

Allowing his fingers to flow into a different tune, he lamented that for him, love really did hurt, and as was the case of late, his mind drifted to thoughts of Carolina. No matter how hard he'd willed himself not to think about her the last few hours, he always had. In his mind's eye, he could picture her exactly as she'd been the first day he'd seen her, with the sun turning her hair into a halo of fire, her face radiant.

The first song he'd heard on the day of his Texas birth came to him, his fingers moving with transcendent precision over the guitar strings. He sang soulfully the gospel he'd learned at his mama's knee, his voice soaring from deep within his chest, filling the room and carrying beyond. With the song, Dylan sought clarity of vision, conviction of faith and deliverance from the darkness threatening to consume him. Even now, he could hear his mother's voice urging him to cry out for salvation, he did until the walls and windows reverberated, until his fears were stilled, until he moved from the murkiness into the light.

Dylan's voice quieted, his eyes opening to find Carolina's shimmering presence standing before him. He told himself if only for a few seconds he was saved. She had turned on the lights, the room's pollen yellow walls glowing, her figure illuminated. Dylan saw concern on her face but not love. “I'm alright,” he told her morosely.

Carolina looked from him to the three-quarters empty bottle of whiskey, the memory of his almost deafening spiritual plaguing her. “Your brothers don't think you are. They told me to come up here and get you. None of them wanted to.”

“I was playin' a little music is all. Feelin' a little blue.”

“Was that you sounding a little blue? The way the windows were rattling I thought there was a thunderstorm.”

“Maybe I was feeling a lot blue,” he bit out.

“Why?”

“Partly because it's a curse of my nature. Mostly because I was missing you. Where'd you go?”

“I was around.” Telling him she'd spent time with Justin would be a mistake.

“Next time let me know where you are.” He could smell the deception on her.

“I never needed to account for my time alone before. But if you want I'll tell you,” his concern touched and pleased her, made her feel secure.

He looked at her coldly, “Where you hold up talkin' to Patrick?”

“I was just sitting and thinking.” A part truth was better than a lie she told herself.

He drank from the whiskey then set the bottle aside. The strong spirit causing his well-established guard to slip, “For a while you were out in the distance with Justin. Isn't that so?” Strumming the guitar strings, he waited for her to answer.

She shouldn't have omitted the truth but she hadn't wanted to anger him. “Yes. We were talking.” Straightening the hem of her sweater, she looked him in the eyes.

He narrowed his gaze, silently daring her to lie again, “It's strange, you discount love at first sight but you clearly felt it for my son, told him you cared for him while you two were under that tree and how long have ya' known him?”

She guessed Justin had told him details of their time together. Therefore, she was going to have to lie again, “A few minutes longer than I've known you but loving him isn't the same as your wanting me to have feelings for you. He's a little boy who needs his mother,” and he'd found her again she silently finished.

The music stopped. “How many times have you let me fuck you?”

Her face grew hot. His uncommon vulgarity was shocking. He never swore. His brothers constantly teased him about it. “We've made love several-”

He picked up the whiskey cap and threw it against the wall halting her lies, “You don’t have the damn right to say your wrigglin' around with me was love because you don't love me! So how many times have you rutted with me like a bitch in heat?”

She jumped nervously at his raised voice. Smoothing her hair back she shamelessly raised her chin, “We've have sex five, maybe six times, I think.”

“In how many days?” He wanted her to see she had to love him, unless she was like Liz and if that were the case then God help him.

She wanted to shout that they'd known each other always, something mega-romantic and super-corny that would shock him out of his funk, but instead she timidly noted, “I've known you for a month.”

With a bellow that caused a nearby light bulb to burst he warned, “Don't make me come over there and get the truth out of you. How many damn days has it been?”

Staring at him she replied, “Not even three.” It was what they'd both wanted, what she was supposed to give him. She wouldn't feel ashamed.

“In three days how many times have you told Justin you love him?”

Her gaze faltered and she admitted weakly, “A couple of times.”

His voice thundered causing the windows to rattle, “Your damn calculations are off. Add ‘em up again and this time tell me the truth.”

Whispering, she confessed, “I can't count them because I tell him every chance I get.”

“In the number of times and in all the ways you've given your body to me I should have heard the words by now unless you do the things you've done with me with all your men.” He wanted her to say he was the only one she'd been so free with.

Before Carolina was only ever capable of being sexual with Patrick but admitting the truth to Dylan would have been worse than saying she'd banged the entire NFL, so instead of upsetting him further she feigned ignorance, “What men?”

“The ones who've taught you to sexually please, to act obedient and docile, to accept pain and ascendance as honors on one hand, then to be wild and unrestrained on the other. And today with the dagger where the hell did you learn that?” He wanted to find the bastards who'd tutored her and skin them like catfish.

It had been her instinctively giving him what he needed. “I don't understand.”

Oh yeah she did. Patrick was the one who'd taught her, he thought jealously, imagining the other man's residual fingerprints covering her entire body. However, it was over between the two of them, he had to believe she no longer desired the other man as a lover or risk roaring headlong toward insanity. In a flash, he shut off all thoughts of Carolina being with Patrick telling her glumly, “Never mind. You're here and that's enough for now, but if you want out tell me now, because later I don't want to hear your bellyaching about you've changed your mind. I won't ever let you go, not for anyone or any reason.”

“I don't want out,” she strongly stated.

“Okay. Go on back to whatever you were doing. I need to be alone.” He took another big drink of whiskey before settling back on the bed with his guitar.

“But, they told me not to leave you up here by yourself. And Chris told me to pour out whatever you're drinking,” she asserted boldly, wondering if she could wrestle the bottle away from him without causing him injury.

“Since you kissed him you're wetting yourself trying to satisfy his demands, instead of doing what I say. If he told you to blow him, how fast would you fall to your knees?”

Planting clenched fists on her hips she scolded him stiffly, “Your nastiness is uncalled for. I can see why your brothers wouldn't come up here.” Sitting next to him, she stroked his rough cheek, looked deep into his blue-black eyes, “Why are you being like this? Tell me what to do to help, what you need.”

He pushed her hand away stating harshly, “I don't want sex and I definitely don't need your mothering, so obviously there's nothing you can do for me. Go back and hold Justin's hand or go flirt with Chris and Vega, but don't come back to me tonight.”

Folding her hands in her lap, she tried reassuring him, “I think I'll love you in time.”

Big fucking whoop, he thought bitterly. “Get out Carolina.”

“Alright,” she conceded dejectedly. Collecting her black denim jacket from the closet, she left the room without a backward glance, made sure to extinguish the lights, confining him in the dark as she'd found him. Carolina took the stairs leading down into the sitting room and hastily left the house for the solitude of the hidden stone patio she'd discovered earlier.

Once she eased her tired body back onto the wooden bench Carolina stared into the blackness that shrouded the valley and hills, thinking if she hadn't been so weary she would've fought with him and maybe if she hadn't cried her eyes dry the previous day over Justin she could’ve wept for Dylan's sadness or bawled because he'd pushed her away so carelessly. She'd do none of those things. Zipping her jacket and shoving her hands in the pockets to block the chilly night air she realized Dylan had passed on more than his looks and musical genius to Justin and of course, she had first hand experience with the labile emotions their child had probably carried over into this life from her. Therefore, with the exception of some horrible occurrence taking place she wouldn't leave them, no matter how mean Dylan acted, because they needed her to love them. She'd just have to mind how and when she cared for Justin to avoid fueling Dylan's suspicions. Above all else, she'd cater to Dylan's need to be first in her life and employ any strategy necessary to get him out of his misery. Including opening her heart to him. Because the last words she heard him blaring from his wretched soul, were lines from one of the few songs she knew, a Hank Williams' tune she'd sang very badly many times in her life and they always moved her emotionally, 'Did you ever see a robin weep, when leaves began to die? That means he's lost the will to live, I'm so lonesome I could cry. The silence of a falling star, lights up a purple sky. And as I wonder where you are, I'm so lonesome I could cry.'

Carolina sat in the cold taking solace from the numbing air. From the shadows, two gray wolves emerged, climbing up the long stone stairway to rub noses with her before lying protectively at her feet. Friendly crickets stopped by to play hopscotch on her jean covered thighs and nocturnal insects harmonized, easing her worries Theirs was a night song to calm unlike Dylan's forceful belting out of emotion. His dangerous intensity would certainly ensnare her, then leave her ravaged and aching with damages even Patrick couldn't fix. Nevertheless, she had to do what was best for him.

In the middle of early morning when the blackness of night started giving way to indigo blue, Carolina rose from the bench bidding her nighttime companions ado. She made her way back to the bedroom where Dylan lay sleeping, his guitar and two empty bottles of whiskey on the covers beside him. Noiselessly she opened the glass doors leading to the deck. Gathering the packages Patrick had sent her, she placed them on a chair then closed the doors to secure Dylan within the room's warmth. She picked up the packages and tossed them lightly down to the stone patio she had occupied then climbed down to cart them off to her SUV. Before she exited the vehicle Carolina took off the medallion Patrick had given her, lovingly placing the gold to her lips before hanging it over the rearview mirror, finally prepared to start a new chapter in her life.

Chapter 7

Silently Carolina reentered their bedroom. Seeing he was still asleep, she moved his guitar and the empty bottles from the bed. She hurried through a shower, towel drying her hair and slipped naked into one of his denim shirts that to her sensitive nose still held his unique masculine scent. Barefooted she hurried downstairs and prepared him a Northern Ireland breakfast; the type her father swore eased the ills of a hangover. While the food cooked, she sent messages to the boys, Patrick and anyone else she felt needed to know that she and Dylan wouldn't be available until after lunch.

Back in the bedroom, she balanced a heavily laden breakfast tray and a fresh bottle of Jack Daniels while nudging Dylan's thigh with her knee. He groaned, rolling away from her. Sitting the tray on the floor, she yanked the covers from his naked body and he immediately sat up, mumbling under his breath.

“Rise and shine, we have a date remember.” Repositioning the covers to conceal his nudity, she plopped the tray in front of him and deftly removed the cap from the whiskey offering the black-labeled bottle to him, “You want some?”

He groaned, “No, I don't want to eat either. I feel lousy.”

Carolina recapped the whiskey, placing the bottle on the nightstand. “Eat your breakfast. After last night you owe me at least that.”

Bleary eyed he rubbed his forehead, “What are you talking about?”

She let the full measure of her hurt underscore her words, “Your implications that I'm either a whore or a whack-job, wannabe Florence Nightingale.”

Dylan thought he might have been drunk when she'd walked in last night but he didn't think he'd been that intoxicated. “I'd never say such things to you.”

“Close enough and you referred to me as a bitch. Now eat. You'll need your strength.” Picking up the fork, she stabbed one fried egg allowing the golden yolk to run. Passing him the utensil, she stated sarcastically, “Go ahead and trust me on this since you can't trust me on anything else. My dad and brother swore by the curing benefits of the Ulster Fry and they could out drink all of Dublin and they never had hangovers.”

He ate. “I didn't say I didn't trust you and I don't recall using the 'B' word either.”

She sat on the edge of the bed facing him. “Most certainly you did.”

Feeling small, he looked at the huge amount of fried food on the plate, felt his stomach rolling and wondered if she were trying to kill him. “I can't eat all this.”

“You will, because you love me. People who love each other deeply do things that seem impossible for one another.”

“How does clogging my arteries prove I love you?”

In a pained voice Carolina asked, “How did getting shitfaced after announcing our engagement prove that you love me? How did bellowing like a bull with his balls snagged on barbwire prove that you cared at all?”

“I didn't sound like a bellowing bull,” he denied.

“The heck you didn't. You were keeping up such a racket the kids couldn't get to sleep. I have to say I didn't find the show impressive. I had a much better time sitting out in the cold all night listening to the crickets since you kicked me out of your bed.”

Putting the fork down he reached out to stroke her hair, “Carolina, honey-”

She swatted his hand away, “Don't try sweet talking me. Where did you think I'd go? Did you even care? I'm the woman you supposedly fell in love with at first sight and you treated me worse than a piece of trash.”

“I was drunk and jealous.”

Carolina added, “And feeling blue?”

Dylan raised both of his hands to his forehead, massaging his temples before raking his fingers through his hair, remembering the overwhelming darkness that had taken hold of him the night before. “Yeah I was feeling blue. Darn near black to tell the truth,” his voice was a mixture of sadness, self-consciousness and shame.

“So why did you send me away? Why couldn't you tell me what was going on?”

Needing to keep from touching her Dylan resumed eating. “Tell me what you really thought of my singing?”

“I thought you sounded sad, beautiful and powerfully angry.”

“I was feeling overwhelmingly melancholy and irate. My music helped me manage those emotions.”

“We could have talked.'

“You tried talking to me and your efforts were pointless. Talking most times, when I'm like that, doesn't help. I either do what I did last night or I...” Dylan's words trailed off, not wanting to admit his malady.

In a coaxing tone Carolina urged him on, “Or you what?”

“I end up spending all that emotion on sex.”

“But you told me you didn't want sex.”

“I didn't want sex from you. I've never wanted just sex from you. Every time I'm inside you, I want you to feel my love, know how much I worship you. The type of sex I have when I'm all tortured and knotted up is the type of relationship I had with Liz.”

“Rough sex?”

“We've had rough sex. What I had with Liz was more like... You said last night that you thought there was a thunderstorm, well imagine me filling you with that much force, needing from you the same in return and you'll only have a fraction of an understanding of what I needed last night.”

All sorts of hardcore, unbridled images flashed in her mind of Liz satisfying Dylan in ways he'd not shown her and she felt inadequate. “You were like that with Liz?”

“All the time,” he answered candidly without a hint of boastfulness because he wasn't proud of the sexual compulsiveness that had shackled him to his ex-wife.

Carolina hated Liz even more. “Well I'm not letting you go off and sleep with her.” If he desired any other woman besides that anorexic, good-for-nothing she might have considered letting him sneak off, have an additional lover on the side. After several sedatives, hypnosis and no access to weaponry, she could possibly tolerate him with a woman like Vega, nice, sweet and caring, if that was truly what he needed to be happy, but basic sex didn’t sound like what he needed to get him through his darkness. He sounded as if he required a feminine force that would bathe herself in syrup and let him screw her on top of a fire anthill or romp wildly with him in an open field during a gully washer and such powerful extramarital feminine energy would rip him from her.

“I'm not asking you to. What you saw last night isn't the norm for me anymore. My darkness is occasional, when everything caves in.”

“But you still want to sleep with Liz?” She wanted to reach out and slap some sense into him or better yet she only had to wait a little while longer, Patrick would put an end to Liz, thus solving the problem of Dylan pining away for whatever sick, twisted sex tricks that skinny strumpet used to shackle him.

“Last night I might have,” he confessed chewing on a piece of bacon wanting her to feel at least jealous by the thought of him with Liz.

Carolina saw the truth of Dylan's statement on his face and she rose to the challenge the other woman presented. Emphatically, she stated, “You don't need her anymore. I can give you everything you need.” She’d find a way of knowing, even if he wouldn't completely reveal his raging desires to her.

Dylan knew she wouldn't be able to meet his dark sexual needs because he was going to try to keep them squashed. Even Liz had never completely brought him to satisfaction, over the extent of his adult life his numerous experiences with trying to achieve the ultimate release had always led to utter disappointment. However, if she'd tell him, she loved him, and really meant the words; her declaration would go a long way toward healing the wounds he'd come into the world with. Carolina-”

Thinking he was set to refuse, she shook her head and shushed him. “Let me try. No more heavy drinking and we'll work the rest out. Just come to me when you first start feeling that way. As for your being jealous of Justin I need to tell you something.”

Dylan took a large drink of orange juice before saying, “Go ahead”

“I care for Justin as I do the twins; in my heart and soul I feel they are all my children. I only want to love, nurture and protect them,” her statements were the absolute truth of what she felt and she prided herself.

“I know you do.” Dylan felt shamed because of his earlier suspicions and because he needed her to care for him more than their boys, place him above everyone in her life.

“The way you feel overwhelmed, Justin has been experiencing something like that and he came to me for help, to talk. I would never hurt him or do anything to come between the two of you. But I need to be there for him.”

Dylan nodded his head looking intently at her, “What's bothering him?”

“You'll have to ask him. I won't break his confidence.”

“I'll talk to Justin but I need you to agree that after we're married you won't keep secrets from me about our children. I'm their father honey and although you don't love me I hope you'd at least honor me with the right to fully participate in their lives.”

She nodded in agreement. “Now about Patrick.”

Dylan groaned, rolling his eyes. “What about him?”

“All the gifts Patrick sent to me yesterday I stowed in my SUV and I'll return everything.” While holding his gaze she slowly unbuttoned his shirt she wore, lifting his hand to the empty place where Patrick's medallion had once hung between her breasts. “No more reminders of Patrick and since you're waiting to know, I'll tell you that Patrick loves me but he's never been in love with me. He's always been in love with my brother.” She knew she was leaving out a very important part of how she felt about Patrick but her emotions didn't matter because Patrick Donovan would never be hers.

She had to be kidding, Dylan thought, remembering how Patrick had kissed and caressed her. He didn't even try to hide his disbelief, his words laden with skepticism, “He's gay? Because I didn't get the sense he was interested in men.”

Patrick was interested in one man only, her brother, and it wasn't physical love they shared. Their bond was intellectually, spiritually, and emotionally supreme. However, for the sake of simplicity she embellished, “Patrick's bisexual, but you're not his type.”

Dylan momentarily felt disappointed that the other man didn't find him attractive and knew then he was completely cockeyed from his hangover since men sexually repulsed him. Rubbing his forehead he told her, “I don't need to know anymore.”

She kept on with her explanation, “I told you he was my first and the best but there are things he never did to me. If you want to show me new techniques, positions, or whatever I won't ever say no.” Having made the heartfelt promise she stripped off the shirt she was wearing to sit nude before him, awaiting his most far-out fantasies.

Dylan drew in a ragged breath thinking he would like to keep her naked all the time. “Do you know what you're offering me Carolina?” He watched her move the nearly empty breakfast tray to the floor then she leaned into him, whispering directly into his ear a particular virginity she hadn't lost.

****

He kissed her, regretting having drank the night before, remembering the plump roundness of her bottom pressed against him when they'd slept together, recalling how perfectly she'd fit beneath him the previous morning when he'd taken her from behind. “I can't let you do that now. How do you know this isn't a side effect from that chili?”

This is about pleasing you. That chili was all pepper and no flame. I was hotter for sex when you pinned me against the wall in my office. You could have taken me standing up and I would’ve gone off like a rocket, or maybe bending me over the desk and spanking me for not returning your calls would have been more appropriate?”

He held up a hand stopping her depiction. “I get the picture, but there isn't anything I can do about it now. I'm hungover. I better get a shower so we can go down to the stables.”

Standing next to the bed, Carolina slid into his shirt, leaving the buttons undone. With her hands she freed the long length of her hair that was trapped between the denim and her back and she inquired, “When you and Vega were dating did you ever spank her?”

Fascinated by the rise and sway of her breasts, Dylan felt tempted to pull her to him but the pounding in his head was agonizing and he longed for the feel of a hot shower easing the tightness in his skull. “If I answer you will you let me out of this bed?”

“Sure,” she agreed, taking time to slide her hand across the flatness of her stomach.

The motion of her fingers was hypnotic. Dylan confessed, “Vega and I did a little more than date. We were engaged until Chris decided he wanted her for himself. But no I never spanked her.”

Carolina pushed the bed covers aside to expose the wonder that was Dylan's muscular body. Straddling his lap, she teased his lips with hers. Looking deep into his eyes, she felt him hardening between her legs, “Do you want to spank her?”

Dylan held onto her waist to stop the gyrations she'd started against his throbbing length. “Carolina she's my brother's wife. No I don't want to spank her.”

Clenching her inner thighs, she teased him until he released her waist to grab fistfuls of the sheet on either side of him. Reaching between her thighs she allowed her fingers to stroke the engorged length of him, traced his swollen veins with her short fingernails. In a husky voice she offered, “What if I spank her and you watch?”

Definitely, she was trying to kill him, Dylan thought as he felt the explosion of heat in his body, the electrical pulses at the base of his spine. “Carolina...”

She arched her back then, pushing her breasts against him, allowed his swollen length to find refuge between the cheeks of her bottom. “Love is about honesty isn't it?”

He could feel the sweat on his brow, fighting the wild desire to bury himself deep in her willing flesh Dylan gritted out, “Yes.”

Carolina stopped her gyrations. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she lifted her hips high enough so the extreme length of his manhood could stand tall. Looking down at him, she smiled invitingly, “So honestly here in this room, between just you and me, would you like to see me spank Vega?”

Dylan felt pleasurably trapped. The salty-sweet, spicy fragrance of her aroused body was in his nose, in his mouth, and the copper-red curtain of her hair surrounded him, blocking out rightness and reason. “Yes,” he moaned with his eyes closed.

She eased down onto him, relishing the feel of him stretching her. Carolina watched him through lowered lashes, sliding down another couple of inches, “She is so beautiful. Think about my palms stroking her tight naked rump, my hands teasing her flesh.” Leaning over slightly she breathed lustfully into his ear, allowing her tongue to lick here and there, “Maybe I can put just one finger inside her.”

Dylan thrust deep into her, his hands gripping her hips. He was preparing to plunge into her again, when the bedroom door opened and his eyes met Vega's whiskey-amber gaze. Images of Carolina's pale porcelain body wrapped around the gilded perfection of Vega's form, flashed across Dylan's mind and as he continued looking at Vega, in her midnight blue negligee, he rammed into Carolina, repeatedly plunged in and out, then forcefully ground within her viscous honeypot until Carolina cried out in pain that quickly morphed into whimpers of pleasure as her tight little hive set to buzzing on his aching flesh. With powerful thrust, he pushed her harder, lifting her up, his hands cupping her jiggling rump, fingers sinking into her soft, tender flesh. Dylan felt her bite the lobe of his ear and heard her whisper, “Now, come inside her for me.” He bucked beneath her, tremors of raging sexual release jarring his teeth as he gasped, crying out, “Honey, the things you do to me.” Through it all, his eyes never wavered from Vega’s shrewd study.

Still holding Carolina close, minutes passed before Dylan had enough oxygen to say, “Is something wrong Vega?”

She gave a throaty chuckle before saying, “That was beautiful Carolina. Dylan, sorry I barged in but Liz is on the phone arguing with Chris. He's seriously threatening to go over to the beach house and drown her.”

“I'll be right out,” Dylan told her and watched as she closed the door with a broad smile. He buried his face between Carolina's breasts taking in a long ragged breath. “Honey, about Vega...”

“If you want I'll sleep with her to get even with Chris for stealing your most beloved,” she declared hugging him close, placing her lips to one side of his muscular neck, breathing in the intoxicating balminess of aged whiskey, cedarwood, male sweat and torrid sex. She had felt his rampant excitement at having Vega watch them and though she'd never been with a woman she'd enjoy Vega being her first if Dylan would find pleasure in knowing they'd been together.

Reading her thoughts Dylan seriously warned, “Get the idea outta your head. If you thought I was more than flesh and blood could bear last night, you wouldn't want to be in the same state as Chris when he's really pissed. He'll never forgive you if start up with Vega, then break her heart by not staying with them forever.”

Wriggling against him she felt him throbbing and engorging inside her once more, “I'll not seek reprisal if you say not to. But do you know what was in that chili?”

Dylan thought when she moved her body all slippery and squirming against him, he wouldn't care if he were dressed from head-to-toe in red for the Bull Run. “I have no idea. Just don't stop,” he demanded, sucking her nipple into his mouth, tasting the surprise of strawberry meringue.

“Your brother had me eat dried cobra. Chris is lucky I didn't sneak into their room and cut off all his hair,” she exclaimed, undulating her hips against him.

“Whatever,” Dylan sighed, flexing his length inside her, stopping suddenly when he heard Chris' booming voice outside the door. In one quick movement, he rolled Carolina off him and had her tucked securely beneath the covers before his brother stormed in. “I'm on my way Chris,” Dylan called out, holding a bed pillow over his lap, thinking he would need to wait several minutes for his aroused state to subside, since his hangover interfered with his self-control.

“Never you mind 'bout gettin' off Carolina now. Here, take the damn phone. I've argued with Liz all I plan to,” Chris stomped over and held the phone out to Dylan.

Carolina snatched the slim black receiver from Chris before Dylan could get his hand on it. Shooing Chris with a wave of her fingers she sat up in bed clutching the covers to her breasts and purred into the phone, “Liz, Dylan's busy and can't be bothered.” She paused listening to the other woman and held the receiver away from her ear when a stream of blistering profanity shot forth. When the cursing stopped, Carolina placed the phone back to her ear, “Enjoying sex is real difficult with all your yelling. But, when Dylan pulls out and if he’s not too tired from our fourth shag of the morning or chomping at the bit to taste the delights of South Carolina I’ll ask him to call you. Now I've gotta go cause I'm ready for my orgasm.” Taking a deep breath she let out a lusty shriek and cooed into the phone, “Oh Dylan, sweetheart, give it to me. Ahh, ooh whee, yeah you're my rutting bull, so long and thick. That's right Big Tex, ram into me as hard as you want, hard, harder. Oh my, oh my, oh sweet mercy I'm coming.” Without waiting for Liz's cussing to resume Carolina ended the call, engaging the 'do not disturb' function of the phone system. Looking from Chris to Dylan she asked, “Was that so difficult?”

Dylan heard his brother's shout of laughter fill the room. He felt Carolina's nails raking along the line of his spine and started envisioning his trip to her southern valley. Sliding beneath the covers, he told his brother, “Lock the door behind you.”

****

Many hours had passed before Dylan let her out of bed and the only reason he did was that his brothers had kept knocking on the door demanding they put in a token amount of time rehearsing. However, before he'd taken off to join the other Savages in the home music studio, they'd showered together, dressed each other and to her surprise, he'd brushed then styled her hair into a lovely French braid. As he was walking out Carolina had felt a rush of foreboding, wanted to beg him not to go and knew her ever-present fear of abandonment was rising to the surface. But she hadn't told him of her worries, instead she'd waved him goodbye and waited five minutes before sending him a text message simply worded, 'missing your love'.

To keep herself from thinking about Dylan and the anxieties that threatened to overtake her, Carolina busied herself cleaning the bedroom and bath. She then proceeded downstairs with his breakfast dishes and had them washed and put away before August could object, giving the Rubenesque, golden-almond-shell-brown-skinned woman, with her penetrating, dark-cloud-gray eyes, a tight hug and a kiss on each cheek before leaving the kitchen. She went rushing back in to thank her for taking such wonderful care of the family, then asked if she'd honor her by acting as her mother at the wedding. When August agreed in her rich, Texas-praline voice, Carolina could hardly keep from sprouting wings and flying happily around the room. Calming herself, she grinned joyfully and hugged the smiling woman one last time, before snagging a bottle of Texas chili sauce to take upstairs with her.

Back in the bedroom, Carolina walked out onto the adjacent deck. Sitting on the padded bench, she uncapped the hot sauce and shook a large quantity into her mouth, closing her eyes as the smoky heat filled her. She greedily repeated her actions until the bottle was empty. Then her thoughts wandered to the marriage she'd agreed to and the various plans that needed to be made.

The wedding would be simple. She'd ask Vega to be Matron of Honor and have Patrick give her away. The house was beautifully landscaped so for flowers she'd only need gather wild blooms from the fields to braid in her hair and bind a huge bunch with Irish lace and ribbons to hold during the ceremony. As far as rings were concerned, she'd be content with a simple band but she didn't know what Dylan wanted. When he returned they would have to iron out some of the details.”

Carolina wished she was really excited about the pending ceremony, but what she felt most was troubled, about not telling Dylan of Justin's ordeal, about not revealing the true nature of her relationship to the child he considered Liz's son, about not being able to completely sexually satisfy Dylan and well, about a bunch of other things. But she wouldn't back out, she'd given her word and for her a promise meant something. Taking her phone from the pocket of her black jeans, she sent Patrick a text begging his permission to wed and requesting the honor of his attendance. The whirlwind nature of her relationship with Dylan would shock him, but he was the one who’d told her to be happy and she was trying although she knew happiness for her was extremely elusive.

Deciding to put some of her plans to paper Carolina walked back into the bedroom in search of a writing pad when Vega, wearing a red pants suit and matching heels, rushed into the room looking unusually harried, “Carolina I'm sorry I keep disturbing you but Liz and a teenaged boy are downstairs. They're trying to take Justin.”

Calmly Carolina asked, “Have you told Dylan?”

“No because their not in the studio. They changed their minds and went riding. Justin and the twins stayed to practice. Now Liz is downstairs trying to take him. I've tried calling Dylan and the others but the signal keeps dropping.”

“Okay Vega I'll try and talk some sense into her.”

Carolina waited for Vega to leave the doorway before she grabbed her gym bag from the closet to retrieve her pistol. Like American Express, she didn't 'leave home without it'. Sticking the gun into the back of her waistband beneath her loose-fitting tee, she hurried, on sneakered feet, down the stone staircase and into the entryway. She could see Justin struggling with Liz and her male companion. Each of them had one of the boy's arms trying to pull him through the arched doorway. Carolina observed Vega standing in the sitting room looking like a gentle soft kitten dropped too near a pen of vicious canines. From behind the struggling child Carolina yelled, “Lay off him!”

Immediately, both Liz and her companion released Justin who staggered backwards into Carolina almost knocking her to the stone floor. Steadying herself, she held the boy comfortingly for a few seconds before pushing him in the direction of Vega who hurried the child to the far end of the room just as Liz sprang in Carolina's direction snarling, “You fucking bitch. I told you to stay away from them.”

Liz was kissing distance from Carolina, their noses almost touching, the dark-haired woman's breath pungent with alcohol and chemical smoke. Staring murderously into Liz's cold gray eyes Carolina directed Vega, “Take Justin upstairs.” Never breaking eye contact with Liz, she listened intently as Vega's high-heels clicked on the stone floor as she and Justin hurried away from the chaos threatening to unfold.

Feeling somewhat certain Vega and Justin were out of earshot Carolina told Liz in a voice barely above a whisper, “I know what you did to him you lousy bitch. Now leave before I kick your ass.”

With a wild shriek, Liz made a grab for Carolina's throat but missed her target as Carolina, with a boxer's grace and speed, sidestepped the attack to deliver a fierce fisted blow to the woman's ribs. She watched as Liz, in high heels, quickly lost her balance, landing hard on her hands and knees. Liz's teen companion made a motion to strike and Carolina neither flinched or moved away, instead she halted him with a murderous look, eyes narrowed, lips compressed to a thin line, face marble hard, asking in a voice that could have flash-frozen the Sun, “Are you the boyfriend?”

His voice was full of bravado, “What if I am?”

Carolina recalled killing men like him before because of Patrick. Without blinking an eye, she’d cut the molesters’ hearts out with surgical precision. “I just want to be sure I'm ridding the world of the right asshole,” she told him, pulling the gun from her waistband to point it directly at the center of his forehead. Carolina watched as the young man put up his hands in surrender. Keeping her voice low to avoid being overheard Carolina asked, “Did you touch him?”

Looking into eyes that had gone from bright green to Goth-black the teen knew terror, “Lady, I don't have a problem with you.”

“Oh yeah you do. Back out the fucking door and stay where I can see you. If you move, even to scratch, I'll blow your damn brains out.” Carolina watched as the young man did as she'd instructed. Walking to the oak-framed glass door, gun still in hand; she turned the deadbolt before sticking the gun back into the waistband of her jeans.

Strolling to where Liz lay dazed she helped the scrawny monstrosity get to her feet asking in open disgust, “Are ye totally plastered?”

“Damn you,” Liz spat literally and figuratively in Carolina's face, yanking away from her touch. “You're the reason Dylan is taking my money. I'm going to kill you.”

Wiping the other woman's saliva from her face, Carolina told Liz, “Take your shoes off. I want this to be somewhat of a fair fight.”

Kicking off her heels, Liz, with arms extended, rushed Carolina, who stealthily moved out of the intoxicated woman's path to let her sail face first into the glass door. Liz staggered and held her hand to her bleeding nose before whirling around with a wild cry to charge Carolina who met the black-haired woman head on, delivering blow after blow, practiced punch after punch before grabbing hold of the woman's blouse and with her knee delivered a deadener to Liz's upper thigh. Releasing Liz's crumpling body, Carolina resumed her rapid fist assault to the woman's torso and face until the black-haired harpy lay sprawled on the floor, bleeding and breathing heavily.

When Liz struggled to get to her feet, Carolina kicked her hard in the chest. The force of which sent Liz sliding on her back a good distance across the room. The black haired woman lay stretched out and gasping as Carolina advanced on her. Straddling Liz's chest with her knees Carolina closed her fingers tightly around the woman's throat, squeezing, wanting to prolong the bitches suffering. Looking deep into the self-serving narcissism of Liz's eyes, Carolina felt her Irish past completely surface, stripping away her control. “You nearly killed Justin ye feckless shite and you never deserved Dylan.” With the muscles in her arms straining Carolina applied more pressure to Liz's throat until she saw the woman's eyes roll back, ignoring Liz's clawing fingers as she tried desperately to tear herself free, listening intently to the frantic kicking of Liz's legs against the stone floor as she fought against loosing consciousness.

Without warning, Carolina felt several pairs of hands pulling at her, lifting her off Liz’s still form. She fought them, determined to recapture the woman's throat in a chokehold to be done quickly with the black-hearted witch. Carolina was consumed with the goal of sending Liz to Hell.”

She broke free, but still hampered by interference she had to settle for resuming her original face-to-face death-grip on the woman's throat. She could feel the life draining from Liz, electrical currents weakening, the air growing still and hot. The stink of sulfur surrounded her, filling Carolina's hypersensitive nostrils, and the howling of demon-dogs heralded the unrepentant harlot's descent. To expedite her journey Carolina squeezed harder, the veins in her arms bulging.

Chapter 8

“Carolina, stop,” Dylan's command carried like the crack of a rifle in still woods.

She immediately ceased her struggles. The disapproval in his eyes weakened her resolve, making her release Liz’s throat so she could be lifted off the woman’s lifeless form. “Lay off me,” she shouted at the Savage brothers who were keeping hold of her, violently shaking them loose when they were reluctant to set her free. She watched intently as Dylan tended to Liz, breathing into the whore's mouth, pressing down on her bony chest until she regained consciousness.

“You nearly killed her,” Dylan accused, holding Liz in his arms comfortingly, touching the woman's many bruises. “She could have you arrested.”

Carolina spat contemptuously, “Are you going to call the police Liz?”

Cowering closer to him Liz shook her head as he addressed Carolina, “She's terrified, of course she's saying that now.”

Carolina looked at the woman coldly, “She had no right to come here, her or that toe-rag, fecking tool she considers her boyfriend. Vega told me they were trying to force Justin to leave with them. Should I have allowed that to take place?”

Looking into his eyes, Liz whimpered pitifully, “He's a part of you Dylan, your baby. I miss Justin; have a right to see him. She's trying to turn the two of you against me.”

Carolina's fury boiled over. “Miss him? Don't you mean the money, you lying, two-faced cunt, stand up so I can finish what I started,” she threatened, her voice fiercely gripping the brogue of her human ancestry like a battle shield.

Dylan who'd never heard such accented, peppery language from her yelled at Carolina, “That's enough.”

“Oh Dylan I'm so scared,” Liz whimpered, cowering closer to him.

“Oh Dylan I'm so scared,” Carolina mimicked the other woman's cloyingly sweet tone and flew her the bird. “I'll give ye something to be scared of, ye two bit twat,” Carolina made to attack Liz huddled in Dylan's embrace but was stopped when Chris' iron-grip caught her arm, holding her in place.

To his eldest brother Dylan ordered, “Take Carolina out of here.”

“Get off me,” Carolina told Chris in a low murderous tone before ripping herself free of his grip. “Dylan, are you taking her side?” She looked at him disbelievingly.

“Carolina, Liz is Justin's mother, you're not. Whatever happened, whatever she was doing wouldn't have justified your choking her to death.” Mercy, he thought, she was a redheaded spitfire. He fought hard to dampen down his increasing lust, a level of driving wild desire he'd not tried satisfying since divorcing the woman he held in his arms.

Looking from Dylan to Liz, Carolina could feel the anger steadily increasing in her body, taste and smell the metal of blood. Taking a calming breath, yet still seething she stated, “I'm out of here.” Pushing past Chris she walked out the front door and spying Liz's loser boyfriend, lit into him like a tornado touching down in the mid-west, a whirling force intent on destruction. She boxed him about the ears, kneed him in the groin and when he hunched forward in agony she kicked him under the chin leaving him sprawled and helplessly whimpering on the ground. She stomped off, the image of Liz clinging to Dylan making her shake with fury.

She was ten minutes down the gravel road when she doubled-back. Not wanting to encounter anyone, she walked around the property, jumped the wrought iron fence and proceeded to climb up to Dylan's bedroom for her purse. From the deck, she looked through the glass doors into the bedroom and her blood went from boiling hot to ice cold. He was shirtless, locked in a heated embrace with a naked Liz. Carolina watched transfixed as he finished undressing, saw Liz fall back onto the bed where Dylan used the linens to bind her spread-eagled to the four posts before opening the nightstand to withdraw a condom and roll it onto his enormous erection.

Climbing onto the bed, he knelt between Liz's spaghetti-thin thighs before shifting forward to clench her throat fiercely with one large hand, the other he used to position his huge knob at the door of her disgustingly hairless, tattooed and pierced whore’s lounge. Carolina shut her eyes knowing the precise moment he plunged into that dank dungeon, could hear the sounds of their fucking, the inhuman force of his thrusts made the heavy wooden bed move against the stone floor, its headboard smacking noisily against the wall. Liz made exaggerated choking noises to fan his frenzy and his brutish breathing rivaled his thunderous singing of the previous night, causing the heavy panes of glass to quake beneath her braced palms. Gulping in air to keep from screaming, Carolina turned away with dry eyes and a heavy heart. She climbed down from the deck, from the fictitiously elevated heights of emotions she should have known better than to trust, to the undersurface of human existence, low, sad reality and walked away from the duplicitous and delusive Dylan Savage.

****

Darkness had long fallen by the time Carolina returned to the house. Earlier she'd phoned Patrick and the twins, telling them she was off exploring. She’d also phoned the tutors and August, again lying about the nature of her absence, verifying their willingness to care for the boys because she didn't want to be seen as taking advantage of their presence. She’d barely maintained her composure when August assured her she'd see after her younger boys and the misguided older one too. Now all she had to do was retrieve her purse and the twins. She’d be back living her simple life in less that an hour, having to numb herself to Justin's existence though or succumb to the flaring urge to seek out oblivion.

Finding the front door unlocked she made her way silently up the stairs and into Dylan's room where unfortunately he sat on the side of the bed, apparently waiting for her, holding the empty bottle of chili sauce she'd left on the deck. She met his gaze without shame or remorse. Silently she started gathering her things. Gritting her teeth she thought if he'd any sense he would keep his mouth shut.

Dylan was aware he'd messed up. He was glad she was finally back, felt sure they could workout all that was wrong, return to the way they'd been earlier, when they'd lain in each other’s arms. “Vega told me what happened,” his voice was low and shadowy, full of disguised apologies as he set the empty hot sauce bottle aside.

“I told you what happened,” she bit out, not caring for the disgustingly seductive pitch in his voice, the tonal quality he'd probably used to whisper into Liz's ear.

“Stop packing and talk to me.”

“There's nothing to say. From the beginning this was a mistake.”

“Where did you go? I was worried.”

Carolina reflected on his words. They were similar to what he'd said the night before. He was worried about her, hah. He should worry about himself. “I was fine.”

Dylan stretched out his long denim clad legs and surveyed her as she picked up her black leather handbag. She’d soon discover he wasn't going to let her go. “The twins aren't packed. They're sleeping out in the tree house with Justin.”

“Fine we'll leave their stuff. Next week I'll send someone to retrieve their belongings,” Carolina muttered, as she rummaged through her purse for her keys.

“Tell me about you and Justin,” Dylan requested, although he knew her relationship with Justin wasn't the issue, but bringing up his name was a sure fire way to get her to take pause.

“Don't talk to me about Justin. I wish I'd...” She’d been on the verge of voicing regret at finding him again, rue saving his life, but neither statement would have been true and she wouldn’t use Justin or the twins to hurt even the heartless philanderer sitting there like he’d not, a few hours earlier, been ball-deep inside his ex-wife, atop the very bed they’d made love in all morning. The images of the many ways she'd given herself to him followed by the memory of how he'd taken Liz sickened Carolina.

The blood-flare in her cheeks showed Dylan her level of emotion and he gauged the intensity to be murderously livid. Earlier he'd seen similar patches of crushed-strawberry-red tinting her cheekbones, had heard the raw, vulgar language flying from her usually sweet mouth and he'd wanted to take her fast and hard, had told her to be quiet because he couldn't trust himself not to drag her to the floor and mount her in front of the room's occupants. Clearing his head he asked, “You wish you'd what?”

“Never mind.” Carolina gave him a hard look, “Did you take my keys?”

Dylan ignored her question. “What can I say that will make you stay?”

“Zip.” She didn't need the keys. Patrick had taught her how to hot-wire a car.

“What if I say I'm sorry?” And he was, bone-deep remorseful, for all he'd done.

In frustration, Carolina forcefully threw her purse at him because the keys to her house were also missing and he'd the nerve to be sitting there as if he hadn't done anything. “Save your breath. Better yet, call Liz. Maybe she wants to hear whatever you have to say or perhaps she'll come over so you can screw her again. Weren't you pining for her last night? “For The Good Times”, wasn't that the song?”

He'd caught the purse she'd flung at him and set it aside, feeling the heat of shame coloring his neck, “What happened with Liz was a stupid mistake. It's you I love.”

Then God deliver me from love and you.” Taking her cell phone from her pocket, she dialed Callum's phone number and getting no answer, she dialed Calder's. When there was also no answer she cutoff the call and shoved the phone back in her pocket. “I want my keys Dylan and you know what, if those twins give me a hard time about leaving I'm going to drag them out of here kicking and screaming.”

His mind raced, if only his brain hadn't been so booze addled earlier he would have avoided the snare, the combination of unfamiliar closeness with Liz and unsatiated violent lust that had landed him in this mess. Dylan vowed he wasn't going to let Carolina go. Alluringly he asked, “Are you going out to tell Justin goodbye?”

Carolina rummaged through the nightstand in search of her keys and when she came upon the empty condom wrapper, she slammed the drawer shut. “No I'm not.”

Dylan taunted her, an air of cunning tingeing his voice, “How are you going to get the twins? Are you just going to run off and leave them behind?”

Enraged she stood speechlessly looking at him for a few seconds, realizing that if she didn't leave soon she'd do something she just might regret. Picking up as much of her stuff as she could safely manage, Carolina turned to leave the room only to be greeted by three pairs of eyes: Callum, Calder and Justin. She felt the energy draining from her, fearing the hex she'd come into the world under would always win.

With his voice clearly troubled Justin asked, “Mom are you leaving?”

Still shocked by their sudden appearance, she had to make herself breathe and even blinking was a chore. She wanted to slump to the floor, curl into the tightest ball possible and cry until the stone floor was pooled with her tears. From the very beginning, Justin had owned her heart, their lives interwoven with such complexity that she couldn't consider her sanity before his happiness. Loving people meant doing the things that were hard, Carolina reminded herself and told Justin, “No baby I'm not going anywhere. You guys go back and get some sleep.” Dropping the possessions she held, she opened her arms to her boys for a group hug before telling them to scoot.

Many fraught seconds passed before she, with her back still to him, spoke to Dylan. Her voice fluttered weakly, like the wings of a dying moth, “I will never forget what happened today. I will never forgive you and I will never love you.”

He wanted to stop, didn’t want to hear the defeat in her voice but he knew he had to press on or loose her forever. Dylan declared, “You'll change your mind.”

She clenched her fists at her sides thinking of the pleasure she'd derive from eviscerating him. “Don't bet on it,” she verbally designated the battle line between them.

Dylan liked her fighting spirit, believed that as long as he kept her riled up she'd open to him. He'd seen for himself that when she closed herself off and dug in her heels a man stood very little chance of connecting with her. Taking up her challenge Dylan replied, “I am betting on that very thing, betting also that you'll make me believe you love me by our wedding day.”

He was absolutely certifiable Carolina thought. “I'm not marrying you.” She'd rather be super glued to an elephant's backside for the rest of her life.

Dylan announced in a commanding tone, “Yes you are and you will forgive and love me by the day of our marriage or you'll never see Justin again. I'll have him enrolled in a private school out of the country.” He remembered what she'd said earlier, that love meant sometimes doing what's hard. Using Justin to make her stay was extremely difficult for him, because he loved his son as much as he loved her. However, he felt he had no choice, other than to let her go, which he was unwilling to do.

Carolina's heart slowed and gave a bit of a hiccup. “Go ahead,” she choked.

He knew he'd eventually burn for what he was doing but having her with him was worth eternal damnation. Blithely, Dylan took up the gauntlet, “Okay.” He walked to the bedroom door and opened it, “I'm going to tell him to pack.”

Carolina's temples were starting to throb and she felt weak. She wanted to call his bluff but was too afraid for Justin, too afraid to face the possibility that his father was as much a monster as Liz. In a small, sorrowful voice, Carolina stopped his progress out the door, “You win, Dylan. Can I finish moving my stuff now?”

One victory down and a few to go he thought. “You're staying in here with me,” he walked back across the room to stand a few feet away from her.

Carolina felt the contents of her stomach churning. She focused her attention on the worn leather of his boots, “Are you completely insane? Or do you simply hate me?”

He was definitely going to Hell, would probably rank as one of the Devil's head minions, “I already changed the linens. I'll buy you a new bed tomorrow.” He wanted to touch her so badly his fingers ached. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back and set his booted foot to tapping.

Carolina raked him up and down with a glance, thinking he was a pig, a handsome, lying, cheating, golden-haired pig. If he was content to wallow in the mess he'd made she didn't give a roasted wiener. “Don't bother. Can I go to sleep now?”

Even in her defeat she was glorious he thought. “No. Come here Carolina.”

She walked over to stand before him, letting him see the hurt and anger in her eyes, the unconcealed rage she was craving to let loose. “What else do you want?”

Dylan thought if she had a gun at that moment he would have certainly been a dead man. “I want you to know doing this hurts me. This is not how I want to keep you, but you've left me no choice. What I did with Liz was wrong and I deeply regret bedding her and violating you. I offer no excuse because my actions were unjustifiable. But I swear on my life, on the graves of my parents that I'll never bed her again.”

“Whatever... I need a bath.” She walked away from him, stripping off her black t-shirt as she went. When she reached the closet, she removed the gun she'd placed in the security of her snug spandex panties. Unloading the small but effective weapon, she placed the pistol amongst her possessions in the closet and put the ammunition clip on the top shelf pushing it back as far as she could reach.

At the sight of her operating the .22 caliber Beretta as if she'd been born with a gun in her hand Dylan asked her a question he'd voiced before, “Who are you?”

Carolina looked back at him and scowled, frigidly stating, “You should have taken more time to find out before you pissed me off.” She closed the closet, gathered her night attire and with imposing dignity entered the bathroom. Pushing the door silently shut she hurriedly turned on the shower to maximum pressure. Dropping the items she held to the floor, she rushed to the toilet to retch violently hoping the symphony of cascading water was effectively drowning out the sounds of her misery-induced nausea.

****

For Carolina, time now possessed the toxicity of the Creeping lily and nearly thirty-six hours after Dylan's threats and ultimatums she felt she was barely hanging on to the essence that enlivened her. When she was unsuccessful at avoiding people, outwardly she adopted a cheerful countenance. When alone, her mood was the intense central blackness of Scotland's Geranium 'Dragon Heart' and she seriously questioned if anyone would ever see her again. Now she hoped she appeared emotionally stable as she sat in the tree house shrine, listening to Calder, Callum and Justin practice, trying to ignore Dylan's overwhelmingly revered presence. The twins adored him and Justin worshiped his dad. He was the father that had taken them to the lake with the rest of the Savage Clan while she'd been the spoilsport who'd stayed behind, locked in the bedroom, too afraid she'd completely breakdown if she'd had to face anyone, but also really terrified of being alone in case she gave into the deepening desire to wither away. Her head ached and her emotional upheaval kept her stomach rolling, but now hearing the boys play gave her a measure of relief from her turmoil. The music was beautiful and she could hear the improvement in the twins' abilities, being amongst the Savages seemed to allow them to absorb musical talent through every pore.

Slightly before nine, the boys stopped playing and after they'd put their guitars away, Carolina enthused, “I’ve never heard music as beautiful. The three of you sound as if you’ve played together your entire lives. Now it’s time I go and allow you to get some sleep. I'll see you at breakfast.”

In unison they piped up, “Can we ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Callum started, “After you're married are we going to be adopted?”

She suppressed the urge to wail. “We haven't discussed it. I'll ask him tonight.”

Calder followed up, “We want Dylan to be our new dad legally so we'll feel like we're really a part of his family. You'll make sure he says yes won't you?”

“I'll present the issue to him.” She wasn't promising to do anything.

Justin spoke up to close the deal, “You'll adopt me too, like you did the twins. So legally, you'll be my mother and they'll be my brothers. That's how it's supposed to be.”

“Justin, I'll talk with Dylan but as far as he's concerned, you already have a mother.” Actually she knew what Justin wanted would never happen because his father wasn't going to agree.

“She's not my mother. Promise you'll get dad to agree.”

“You should talk to him Justin. I can be there with you when you do.”

“You do it. He won't refuse because you're his heart. He needs you to live.”

“Justin he loves you and wants your happiness, you have to know that.”

“Yeah I do. But you'll talk to him for me about everything won't you mom?”

“Of course I will,” she knew what he meant by 'everything' and was glad he'd stayed true to his agreement that Dylan should know what had happened to him. Blowing kisses to them she promised, “I'll make something super special for tomorrow's breakfast.” As she turned to leave, she heard Justin and the twins chorus, 'Goodnight mom. We love you,' and she regretted that tonight would be the time she'd remember the twins honoring her with words elevating her to the seat of parenthood, no longer considered a stray desperate to do their bidding for whatever modicum of caring they chose to award her. Because tomorrow all three of them might despise her for not getting them what they wanted.

****

Carolina was halfway across the patio when she spied Dylan sitting on a wicker settee attired in a silvery-gray dress shirt and black tailored slacks that draped his muscular body sublimely. Uncharacteristically he wore black leather loafers instead of his preferred boots. His thick, shoulder-length, blond hair gleamed, surrounding his face in its usual, casually relaxed style. Tonight his jaw line had a sexy growth of shadowy hair that called out for a woman's touch and although her truest desire was to runaway and hide, she stayed to the course he'd charted.

When she stood before him, she bent to kiss his lips while running the fingers of one hand along his strong, stubbly jaw. He rose to his feet as his lips kept contact with hers and his strong arms went around her waist drawing her nearer. Carolina's eyes remained open, coolly noting his responses, the closed eyes that made him appear vulnerable and the throbbing pulse in his neck left exposed by the open collar of his shirt. She placed her forefinger against the thumping vein, stroking her nail up-and-down its length until she felt his breath catch, his eyes fluttering open, their normal deep lapis-blue overtaken by a lightning storm of zigging silver. She stayed within the circle of his arms, not only because she was playing the part of his doting fiancee but also because his gaze held her captive.

He lightly scolded her, “Everyone is waiting for us.”

“I was telling the boys goodnight. The twins want you to adopt them.”

His heart filled with joy. He wished for at least a dozen kids. “Of course I will.”

Carolina prepared herself for the heartache and disappointment. “And Justin-”

“No.”

Even though she'd assumed what his answer would be the reality of how little he loved her and how very much he cared for that woman still hurt. If only he'd allow her to tell him everything then maybe he'd change his mind. “You didn't let me finish.”

His tone was razor sharp, cutting right to the heart of the matter, “Justin wants you to adopt him, the logical progression to this conversation. But, he already has a mother. Liz will always be his mother and given your history with her, she'll never agree to the adoption even if I would. You and he simply need to accept that you can't erase her from his life.”

“Of course.” Stepping away from him, she removed one silver high-heeled slingback from each of the robe's pockets. Dangling the shoes from the crook of her finger, she slowly took off the robe and tossed it onto the settee, taking morbid pleasure in the sound of his hissed intake of air through clenched teeth.

“Hold these please,” she handed him the shoes before placing one of her palms against the muscled wall of his chest. With one hand, she reached under the hem of her minute sparkling silver dress to remove a silver-sequined thong that she, with great ceremony, slid into the front pocket of his trousers. Taking her shoes from him, she once again braced her hand against his chest and slipped on the spiked heels to stand before him, allowing the mad genius to see the monster he'd created.

Dylan opened and closed his mouth, then opened his mouth again to allow a single phrase to pass his lips, “Sweet mercy.” His eyes caressed her from head to toe. He noted how her hair was arranged artistically atop her head with strategic wisps of curls left free to surround her face, which bore not a hint of makeup but was captivating in its unspoiled beauty. Her gorgeous body was barely covered by a dress that appeared painted on, more of her figure teasingly exposed than artfully covered and leaving very little to the imagination. With a neckline that plunged to her navel, the scant bodice of the dress had him wondering if her high, plump breasts were in danger of falling free and its skirt barely covered her upper thighs. When she sat, minus her thong, she'd be giving everyone a peek at what was meant for his eyes only.

He knew she wanted to get back at him for Liz, and for threatening to send Justin away, but she wouldn't get her revenge dressed like that. There was no way he was going to allow her to walk virtually naked into a room full of Savages and a motley crew of others. Taking her hand, he brought her open palm to his lips, allowed his tongue to caress its center slightly, all the while peering into frozen sea green eyes. Not seeing even a bit of thawing in their depths he allowed her hand to fall to her side commanding nicely, “Go change then hurry back down. I'll make up an excuse for you.”

Her eyes narrowed, “If I leave I'm not coming back. This party wasn't my idea. I'm going along to avoid hurting Vega's feelings.”

“You already hurt Vega when you wouldn't come out earlier and talk to her. She was standing sadly outside our bedroom door waiting for you to answer. I've already made enough mistakes for the both of us. Don't worsen our situation by injuring her or any of the rest of the family just because you're mad at me. Now go put some clothes on, something elegantly conservative, sort of Jackie Kennedy meets Barbara Bush.”

Inhaling deeply so her breasts really stuck out, she slowly swiveled, modeling for him, allowing him to enjoy her attractions further. “I like this dress. Don't you?”

“I certainly do and I'll be the only one to ever again see you with so little on.”

Carolina shrugged dismissively. “No you won't. I'm not changing, so let's get this over with. I've had a migraine since Sunday. By the way, you should call Patrick.”

Now his head was starting to ache. “What for?”

“To thank him for the dress. He has an amazing memory for details.”

“If you're trying to start a fight, I suggest you stop courting defeat. It's over between you and Patrick. Now take your tail upstairs and change.” However, he remembered how Patrick had touched her.

She looked at him daringly. “I'm wearing this dress and there's something you should know.”

He could still see her naked in Patrick's arms. His tone was harsh, “What?”

“Patrick came... for a visit,” she announced smoothing her hand suggestively over the dress.

His thoughts were dangerous for them and for himself. “Oh?”

“He left you a present.” She turned abruptly, switching towards the house.

Dylan moved to catch her and stopped in his tracks at the view of her naked back all the way down to the beginning swell of her round derriere. However, the nonexistent back of the dress wasn't the reason he couldn't move. An elaborate temporary tattoo displayed at the base of her spine is what had his feet glued to the stone patio. In exquisitely detailed calligraphy, someone had inked 'Dylan Savage, Kiss My...' across her lower back and had framed the phrase with curling pink-bloomed rose vines that disappeared beneath the fabric of the dress. A muscle at his jaw jerked, his fists clenched and to calm himself he admitted he deserved her angry antics for treating her cruelly. He prayed that since she'd had her type of revenge they'd now be even, hoped for both their sakes she wouldn't take this torture any further.

Carolina knew he'd seen the tattoo because he'd stopped walking and she goaded him, “He did it to me- Oops, I meant to say 'for me' yesterday in your bed.”

Behind his eyes, he saw flashes of light then the looming utter blackness. “Are you telling me you slept with Patrick?”

“We never did sleep,” she baited him, sashaying seductively away with every intention of joining the engagement party.

Dylan, on the other hand, had something else on his mind...

Chapter 9

His head was filled with images of Patrick's hands moving along the bare skin of Carolina's backside. He could imagine the other man straddling her hips, moving in close to stroke his tool around her flesh and he wanted to kill them both. Dylan grabbed her from behind and whirled her to face him. Maintaining the grip he had on her upper arms he gave her a rough shake saying angrily, “You're not going into that party dressed like that and with that trash scrawled on your back.”

“Hah! You're not man enough to satisfy me let alone keep me out of that party.” She glared at him, her chin set defiantly.

He looked at her aroused nipples. “You're a liar. I felt your orgasms every time.”

“I was faking. Don't you recall me saying you weren't my best lover? Now let's remember who that was... I do believe his name starts with the letter 'P'.”

He narrowed his eyes, felt his muscles tensing, “I'm warning you...”

“You should have warned me that you were planning to play 'hide the pork link' with your emaciated hag of an ex-wife,” she uttered waspishly.

He wasn't beyond playing in her league. “Your mouth is gonna get you into a world of trouble not even your sexually confused, watchdog, lover can get you out of.”

“Shut up or I'll bloody your nose. But you'd like that wouldn't you,” she yelled, kicking him hard in the shin and finally felt him release her upper arms. Reaching into his pocket, she yanked out her thong and threw it in his face, “Try that on for size because you surely didn't wear the pants in your marriage. She cheated on you more times than there are drops of water in the ocean and then she divorced you. But you were all over her like a dog the first time you got a strong whiff of the putrid odor seeping from between her thighs knowing she'll do worse if you go back to her.”

“Life with Liz wasn't any worse than what you're doing right now.”

“I doubt that. But, since all the women in your life have cheated on you, maybe we aren’t at fault. Liz will screw anything so she doesn't count, but your brothers told me that all of your many girlfriends before her chose them over you. Gosh almighty, the beautiful love of your life, your fiancee Vega, ditched you and married Chris instead, and now I, plain simpleton that you think I am, have slept with Patrick right under your nose. It seems the common denominator in the problem is you. I mean, you were so upset that Patrick didn’t think you were hot that I should have guessed what’s been going on. You’re batting for the wrong-”

He slapped her, not hard but with enough force that she stopped talking and blinked in surprise, rubbing her cheek that was turning slightly pink. “I've never hit a woman in anger before and I regret havin' raised my hand to you now, but Carolina, you don't know when to let a man alone. Now keep quiet and go change that dress.”

Lowering her hand from her cheek she kept her eyes glued on his, all the while removing the high heels. She rapidly fired one shoe at his head, then the other, not waiting around to see if they made contact with their target, she spun and took off running, her bare feet sure on the patio stones.

Feeling the clip of one heel, he successfully dodged the other then took off in pursuit, catching her before she got far. He jerked her around to face him, holding her in place with one hand wrapped around both her wrists. Dylan could feel the stinging cut the shoe heel had left on his forehead. Gazing beyond her lopsided hairdo, he saw impeccably dressed guests crowded together looking at them from behind the glass doors and windows. Leaning forward he growled in her ear, “People are staring.”

All she could see and hear was him in bed with that viper. “Well let's make the show a bit more interesting.” She delivered him a vicious head butt that sent him staggering backwards. Whirling around, she quickly wriggled up the rear hem of her dress and revealed a drawing across her bottom, Patrick naked and erect, kissing and fondling her bare breasts. Lowering the hem, she sprinted away from the murderous bellow he let loose.

When Carolina ran into the house, she hit a muscled wall and was knocked backwards, her bare feet skidding on the polished floor. Glancing over her shoulder she saw Dylan rapidly approaching and she just managed to duck behind the eldest Savage before Dylan stormed into the room. She was set to take off again when Chris caught her arm and pulled her from behind him to stand along side Dylan.

Giving them both a stern look, Chris spoke for their ears only, “Have y'all gone crazy? There are visitors in this house. Stop behaving like brats and mind yourselves.” Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he handed the white cotton square to Dylan and motioned for him to clean the blood from his forehead. Taking in Carolina's wild-woman appearance, he shook his head in disbelief knowing his pockets contained nothing that could even begin to smooth out her rough edges. Giving them one last look of warning Chris stepped aside ordering, “Now greet your guests.”

With her head filled with imaginings of Dylan lying atop Liz, rutting wildly, telling the stale tart that he loved and prized her above all women, Carolina silently fumed. However, feeling duty bound she spoke with great sincerity to the large group, “First of all I'd like to thank Vega, Chris and all of the Savages for making me and my boys feel we are family. My heart fills and my spirits brighten every time I think of the motherly affection August has shown me and my children especially over the last few days as the stress surrounding the wedding plans has really begun to take its toll on a few of us. I'm of a mind to say that I almost don't want to marry Dylan for fear of ever loosing him or any of you as I did with the majority of my own kin. But I know we must move forward and no matter in what direction we travel, be it on the same or different paths, I know wholeheartedly now as it will always be, that I'm more than I'd ever imagined thanks to being nurtured at the bosom of the extended Savage Clan.” She inched away from Dylan. “Next, I'd like to thank everyone for taking the time to come out and help us celebrate our pending nuptials. I look forward to becoming better acquainted with you all and hope to grow into the type of person you'd look forward to considering as a close and trusted friend.” Moving further from him, she swatted at Dylan's hand when his fingers tried to grip her wrist. “Enjoy yourselves and if I'm unable to tell each of you personally tonight, I say now, with the utmost sincerity, that your being here means the world to me,” and with that she took off like a jackrabbit in search of a briar patch.

Dylan simply offered, “It's good to see y'all.” He then took off after her, hell-for-leather. Carolina's flame-red hair was entirely undone, flying out behind her as she ran. Clutching a handful of the blazing strands he reined her in, successfully stopping her flight. Oblivious to onlookers, he drug her back to him and swung her up over his shoulder. He felt her pummeling him with strong fists all the while he carried her up to their bedroom where he entered, locked all the doors then tossed her violently onto the bed, knocking empty jars of honey and chili sauce from her nightstand onto the floor. Following Carolina down onto the bed, he caught the dress at each side of her neck and with one fierce tug ripped the clinging material completely from her body.

****

She fought him, but with two-hundred-plus-pounds of furious male muscle holding her down, she didn’t have a chance of getting away. In frustration, she bared her teeth, tried to bite his wrist, but only succeeded in making him flip her onto her stomach so she couldn't try again. She struggled to get free until her joints ached.

Still trapping her wrists in his grasp Dylan drug her from the bed so he could clearly see the entirety of the tattoo Patrick had drawn across her rump and his violent mood intensified. He shoved her away from him, furiously demanding, “Did you give yourself to Patrick the way you promised to do for me?”

Her heart wept because he'd slept with that witch. “I did. Yesterday in this bed.”

He couldn't accurately read her expression. “You're lying.”

“Believe what you want. At least I had the decency not to let you catch us.”

Glancing around the room at the yellow walls, the stone floor, the honey oak furniture, then finally at the king size bed, he hoped the inanimate objects would reveal the truth he wanted to hear, that she'd been faithful, that she loved him. He found no answers one way or the other. Frustrated and afraid, he yelled at her, pointing his finger in her face, “Did you have sex with Patrick?”

“Yes.” She stood nude and defiant before him.

“Okay I'll find out for sure.” He stripped out of his clothes and hauled her resisting form into the bathroom.

“I hate you,” she spat, kicking and pulling back all the way.

His tone was furiously unconcerned, 'It's a thin line Carolina, a very thin line. Now shut up and get into the shower so I can scrub that tattoo off and I mean now because if I have to tell you a second time I'll give you another reason to hate me.”

“Screw you,” she yelled, socking him hard in the face and knew immediately she'd finally pushed him too far.

Rubbing his jaw he advanced on her, his eyes narrowed and his manhood fully erect, “Screw me. No screw you Carolina and that's exactly what I plan to do.”

She backed away from him but he kept right on advancing and when he'd forced her to retreat as far as the room's length would allow she stood unyielding between him and the oak encased jacuzzi. Spinning her around so her back was to him he shoved her down, barred her escape by the enraged power of his body, bent her over the edge of the tub and with a steely hold on her hip forced her to stay in place as he caressed her from her nape to her rounded tush. Possessed with the need to know the truth, that she hadn't betrayed him, he slid his penis up-and-down the divide of her buttocks before bringing the tip to stand at attention against her puckered opening. He lowered his head, his fingers digging into her skin and in a hoarse voice he implored, “Please, I'm asking for the last time, for the truth, did you allow Patrick to do this to you?”

“Yes, he repeatedly shoved his gigantic cock into me until I cried. Then I whispered his name, begging him not to stop, telling him I was glad he was the one who'd finally taught me, cherished the fact that he was always my first, the biggest and the very best I'd ever know,” she blurted out brazenly, bracing her hands on the edge of the tub.

With a wounded roar, Dylan thrust into her, knowing anguished pleasure at initial entry until his mind registered the agonized scream she tried repressing, felt too much resistance and tightness to her opening and immediately froze, under his breath severely admonishing himself for his gullibility, for acting the primeval pawn to her sophisticated Svengali. Perspiration covering his brow, fingers trembling, he released her hips to stroke her back, felt her muscles twitching and started pulling out, advising, “Don't move.”

Carolina forcefully pushed her hips back against him, craving the tearing pain. She'd wipe the memory of him bedding his whore of an ex-wife from her waking thoughts and nightmares if it killed her. With eyes closed, she focused, her mind reaching out to his, urging him to take her as hard and as fast as he could, and if just this once she'd prove herself worthy of his desire, surpass that woman's place in his life.

Despite his better judgment and best intentions, he felt himself lurching further into her and lost control. Gripping her hips once more, he finished the long journey into her untried passage, his movements rapid and fierce, his lower body slamming into hers rhythmically, the entrancing music of their pounding hips drowning out her muffled cries. Her tightness lured him, her flesh gripping and urging him on. Pulling all the way out, he surged back in with a long powerful stroke that rocked her forward. He yanked himself back and slammed into her again, needing to hear the carnal sounds of their heated joining, became crazed by the sensation of her closing tightly after his departure. His every reentry, hindered by the same level of resistance he'd first encountered. The sensations were excruciatingly pleasurable, causing a low electrical hum to start in the room, a signal that he needed to stop. Instead, he heard himself say, “Take all of it, all of me,” the speed of his thrusts quickened and within the room their combined energy teemed.

Removing one of his hands from her hips he drew it back and swatted her across the tattoo of her in Patrick's arms, her backside bouncing and shimmying at each blow, the sound of his cupped hand meeting her flesh making him groan as he kept up the piston action of his flanks against her bottom. His hand swung and made contact again and this time he demanded, “Tell me.”

“No,” she shrieked as he lunged into her again.

His free hand, warmed from having repeatedly slapped her rump, worked its way down to the opening of her vagina, rubbing and massaging her in seductive swirls, one calloused finger strumming the sensitive nub, his hips continuing their assault until she was whimpering loudly, her entire body as far as he could see taking on a pinkish radiance. His hand was covered with her wetness and he used her slick lubricant to aid the entry of his fingers into her honeypot while he continued ramming into her behind. Feeling his penis moving in and out of her, through the thin barrier of flesh separating one opening from the other, sent him a little mad and he yelled hotly, “Carolina say it.”

She couldn't think and he'd closed his mind to her so she had no idea what he wanted, but knew the torturous, uncontrolled, dual penetration would continue until she said or did something. Pushing away from the tub, she forced him to sit back and take her more into his lap and the penetration deepened, assuming a new dimension of sensual-torment that had her hiccupping and gasping out the first words that popped into her head, “Yes, yes Dylan. I need you so much. Don't stop.” Reaching down between her legs, she grasped his wrist and continued pushing his hand in, up to his wrist. She'd been starving and now she was so full of him, almost satisfied and when he placed the fingers of his free hand in her mouth to be licked and sucked, mirroring the rhythms of his hips and his hand, Carolina's mind and body short-circuited, the lights in the room starting to dim.

Feeling the flicker of electrical change, Dylan groaned deep in his chest, body aching from sexual cravings. Taking his fingers from her mouth, still moving his hand up-and-down inside her in tune with the fierce bowing action of his rod in and out of her backside, he placed his lips to her ear and issued an ironclad decree, “You're mine. Do you understand?”

“Yes Dylan, I understand.” she lamented, her body feverishly convulsing and shivering, her breathing erratic.

Body bathed in sweat he shoved her back up and over the tub's edge, slowly withdrawing his hand from inside her he resumed ramming into her, slapping his wet palm against her buttock until he heard her scream, felt her trying to dislodge him by bucking wildly beneath him. With colossal strength he gripped her hips, forcing his body in and out of her at a furiously passionate tempo, alternately chanting his ownership of her and reverently calling her name until with one final deep thrust, that forced her pelvis cruelly against the tub's marble edge, he let out an aggrieved, lusty shout, that died down to a muffled groan as he pulled out to ejaculate all over the tattoo, streams and globs of his essence springing forth in abundance leaving his legs weak.

Immediately Dylan felt cold and alone, wanting the warmth that normally followed their lovemaking, not the icy chasm of uncertainty he needed to cross to make amends for violations too numerous to count. He sat back on his haunches wishing he could undo the last few days, wanting in some way to comfort her. He reached for her and watched as she scrambled away on her hands and knees across the marble floor to the toilet where her body was wracked with dry-heaves.

Walking over to her, he held her hair back until she finished. Then with unsteady hands, he lifted her to her feet. He directed her to the shower where he cleansed them both under a forceful spray of hot water, determinedly scrubbing the tattoo completely away and hating himself the whole time because she wouldn't look at him, her body shaking and trembling at his touch.

****

Escorting her to the bedroom, he wrapped her in his blue cotton robe before easing his aching body into blue pajamas and a white tee. Sitting on the side of the bed, he faced where she stood near the closet and spoke sincerely, “I never wanted to hurt you. When we first met, all I could think about was how wonderful being near you made me feel. I wanted you to feel the same way about me. It seems like an eternity since we met and although I only ever desire your happiness, all I seem to do is make you miserable. I need you to help me understand what I'm doing wrong?”

Her voice was unsteady, raspy, “I hate that you choose her over me.”

“Liz? I slept with her once and I've apologized. Enough already for pity's sake. I don't want to spend the rest of our lives fighting about her. We're getting married Sunday no matter what you do with the exception of killing me. If you plan to do away with me, make the process quick and know even then I won't let you go. Not ever.”

Carolina's voice rose slightly, “No you won't let me go, you just keep pushing me away when the mood strikes you while keeping a hold on the leash you control me with. You didn't just have sex with Liz, you comforted her, held her, listened to her and in the presence of your brothers while that woman listened you humiliated me by saying I wasn't Justin's mother when compared to Liz a toadstool would be a more maternal presence in Justin's life. I can't believe you think she's a better mother for him than me.”

“You're obsessed with him Carolina. It's not a choice between the two of you. She's his mother,” he stated adamantly, looking at her, willing her to understand.

“No she isn't. I'm his mother,” she cried passionately.

He saw in her eyes that she really believed what she was saying. “Carolina-”

“Justin's my son. On Friday he was hurt and he went to me, not her.”

“He was trying to avoid being grounded again for fighting.”

“The situation was more serious than a prep school skirmish.” Opening the closet, she pulled out the hand-painted gift box Patrick had given her. Sitting it on a nearby chair, she removed the Lavender decorated top and withdrew from its interior a clipping from the local Sunday paper. Nervously she walked the newsprint over to him.

He accepted the article and quickly scanned its contents, “What's this?”

She shoved her hands into the pockets of his robe and made herself meet his gaze, felt her eyes filling with tears for Justin and for him before she had the courage to admit, “Last week those men abducted and hurt Justin.”

He felt as if all the oxygen had been extracted from the room, his ears ringing and his head feeling ready to explode. Calmly he asked, “What are you telling me?”

“When Justin came to my office he not only needed to ask why I wouldn't allow him to visit, he was there for my help. As we talked, I could tell something was wrong with him but he refused to call you and didn't want me to contact you either. He was leaving my office when he collapsed. He wasn't breathing and I couldn't get a pulse.”

He endeavored to remain calm. “You're telling me my boy died?”

She couldn't ever voice the words so instead she admitted, “I had to resuscitate him. He told me he'd taken pills because men, those in that article, had hurt him. He didn't want me to call you and he didn't want to go to the hospital because he knew you'd be notified. Patrick facilitated getting Justin medical treatment then I called asking if he could stay the weekend. He's afraid you won't love him anymore and that, for him, will be worse than the actual abuse. Dylan, please understand why I couldn’t say anything. From the beginning, I could tell how much he cares for you but it's much more than that; he actually worships you. His tree house is a temple he's created to Dylan Savage, full of your image, representations of you as a son, brother, family member, father, musician, celebrity and a god.”

Looking at her he wondered if she were trying to get back at him, asking skeptically, “Why should I believe you? This night has been full of your lies.”

“Because, I’d never lie about the children. In the morning talk to Justin, tell him I told you what happened. Although he didn't want to tell you himself, he'll talk about what happened now that you know. A therapist has been here working with him.”

“One of the so-called tutors Patrick employed?”

“Yes, the matronly-looking woman. Anyway, since late Saturday when Justin and I were out sitting under the trees he gave me permission to tell you. But I didn't want to hurt you and I didn't want you to be angry, so I kept silent.”

“I am angry. You took too much onto yourself and now you're fantasizing you're his mother. His care should have been left to me or Liz, not you and Patrick.”

Looking at him nervously Carolina thought he didn't appear upset. He was exaggeratedly calm considering what she'd told him. “And what about Justin's honor? Patrick told me that because of who you all are, Justin never would have known a moments peace if you'd gone to the authorities. What could you have done?”

Dylan didn’t feel the need to tell her that Patrick was wrong about his family and the media. Instead, he looked at her suspiciously, “What did you and Patrick do?”

“I stayed with Justin. Patrick took care of most of the people who hurt him.”

“'Took care of'? Is Patrick some sort of gangster?”

“No. I told you he's a fixer. Those men have gone missing. Soon the people who masterminded the blackmail will very likely go missing too. They had pictures and videos of Justin but Patrick got them all back.”

His tone was hard, “First you tell me two men conspired to hurt my son, now the claim is that there are more involved. You say Justin was molested, told me without blinking an eye he died, then your tale mushrooms into a blackmail plot. I'm thinking you need the therapist.”

She wiped stinging wetness from her face. “I'm so sorry for all of this. I have the photos and videos. I brought them here so they'd be safe and I'll give them to you, but I want you to talk to Justin in the morning, but don't mention the blackmail because I never told him after Patrick found out. He needs to feel safe.”

His voice was low and steady, “You have Justin so wrapped around your finger, he'd confess to shooting J.F.K. if he thought you wanted him to. But if you truly have photos and videos give them to me.”

“After I say a few more things. First, I want to apologize for tonight. I was out of line. I didn't mean most of what I said and I'm sorry for forcing you to take me. But, if I hadn’t, you never would have. You haven't touched me since you slept with your ex. I felt terrified, desperate because I'd failed you and I was dwindling away into oblivion.”

If he'd doubted her sanity before, now he was sure she was touched. He massaged his temples. “You didn't force me. I haven’t made love to you because you deserve time after my offense.”

“What I needed was for you to help me erase the memory from my mind and I did force you, by deliberately fighting and letting you believe I'd slept with Patrick. I knew what you'd do especially once you saw the tattoo. I needed to know what your complete loss of control felt like, wanted you to be with me the way you were with Liz.”

He read in her eyes that she didn't want to hear the truth, that he hadn't completely lost control with her tonight, so he didn't make the admission. Instead, he admitted, “I hurt you badly. Taking you as I did was a deplorable way for you, or any woman, to have that kind of first experience. Now you're terrified and trembling, thinking I'll hurt you again.”

She fiddled with the robe's belt, unable to look at him. “No I'm not. I knew pain and at times the hurting was hellish but every moment, your every movement thrilled me,” she confessed, closing her eyes and crossing her legs in an effort to control the seismic quakes that threatened to knock her off balance. When the tremors passed, she admitted breathlessly, “I got sick because I have a headache and I'm shaking and trembling because I keep having orgasms.”

Clenching his hand that still stung from the spanking he'd given her, uncertainty ate away at him. If she'd really enjoyed the experience or if she were only saying she had so he wouldn't feel disgusted with himself he couldn't discern because lying, for her, was such an art that she most times effortlessly fooled him. However, regardless of her statements he was still responsible for treating her brutishly. “Carolina-”

“Let me finish. I'm sorry I hurt and disappoint you. Our time together I don't really regret and I could never rue loving Justin. But, I need to go back to the life the twins and I had. I'm leaving. The tutors can drive the twins home tomorrow. Though you're not fond of Patrick, please allow the therapist to continue working with Justin, he likes and trusts her. And sometimes, with your permission I'd like him to visit me.”

Pinning her with a stare, he told her bullheadedly, “We're getting married.”

“I don't want to. I've never felt so seriously ill in my life but now something is making me so and I'm scared. I've had a headache for nearly three weeks. Perhaps all the fighting and stress is having a negative effect on me.”

“You'll fight with the twins if you take them away and you'll fret over Justin's broken heart when you’re apart. So just stop fighting me, we'll stay together and everyone will be happy.”

She grew teary-eyed again. “Except me. I need you to acknowledge that I'm Justin's mother, know I've loved him beyond this life, but you won't and if ever you went to her again, or left me I'd die inside so my leaving now is what's best.”

No, it wasn't 'best'. She just had to see reason. “I give my word I'll never be unfaithful again and you'll be Justin's step-mother, the love you share won't lessen.”

Her hands shook as she swiped at her eyes. “No, I'm his mother. If you won't honor me with that standing then I should leave.” She'd already spent the majority of her life without pride of place, permanent standing in the hearts of the people she loved. She wouldn't do so again.

He felt her slipping away and rasped out achingly, “It doesn't have to be all or nothing.”

“For me, on this matter, and on the matter of that woman being in your lives, yes it does and don't threaten to send him away. I know you're all he's ever really had. He couldn't survive being far away from you. Since your divorce you've seen that he's not the same as before and now with what's happened he'll need your strength and understanding in order to completely heal.”

He knew she was dead set on leaving but he wouldn't allow her to part from him. She still didn't have her keys back and if he had to, he'd hide every stitch of clothing she had access to so she'd be forced to stay with him until he could persuade her that they were meant to be together. “Stay the night. I'll talk with Justin in the morning. Be here in case he needs you.”

“Only if you don't look at the pictures and videos.”

He held out his hand, “Give them to me.”

She lifted the items from the box and extended them to him. “If you ever loved me just destroy them. Don't torture yourself.”

“I do love you. As a matter of fact you destroy them.” He lowered his hand.

“I will.” She still couldn't believe how calm he was.

“Now put those things away and get into bed. I need a shave. I'll be back before you're asleep. Carolina, honey, I wish I could undo how I handled things earlier but all I can say is I'm truly sorry.” Dylan rose and strode into the bathroom.

Turning on the faucet, he shaved with a shaking hand. Then he walked to the side of the tub where he'd so badly ravaged her. Sitting on the floor, with his head bowed, he silently wept as he had the day he learned his parents had died, his chest burning, his eyes continually leaking the salty evidence of his agony over the woman he loved desperately but treated so horribly and his son who he'd not protected. Burying his face in his hands, he fought to keep real and made-up images out of his mind.

A longtime passed before he returned to where Carolina slumbered in their bed. Sliding under the covers, he turned to face her, pulling her close to him he noted she still wore his robe and he smiled sadly. He stroked the silken flames of her hair that lay upon the cream pillowcase, admiring her snowy complexion and nymph pink cheeks. She belonged with him, to him. His soul cried out for her, an experience he'd never know with any other woman besides his mother. Placing his mouth next to her ear he whispered, “Carolina, promise me you'll never leave me.”

“I promise,” she whispered dreamily, snuggling deeper into her pillow.

Sadly, undeservedly, Dylan requested, “Tell me you love me just this one time.” He watched as she turned away from him, her gentle snores the only sounds breaking the silence between them.

Chapter 10

Early the next morning they rose from their bed together, but aloof. Still in his robe, she journeyed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast and Dylan strolled to the stables for a long ride to clear his head. When he returned she was still working diligently over steaming pans and sizzling griddles but he could see she wasn't well. Dark smudges underlined her eyes and a deep furrow marred her usually smooth brow. When he offered to relieve her of the task so she could return to bed she waved him aside saying she'd promised her boys something special, then she'd go home and rest.

Dismissed and on leaden feet Dylan walked out to the tree house to wake his sons, sending the reluctant twins into Carolina so he could privately speak with Justin. Sitting on a denim beanbag next to his son's he told Justin he was aware of what had happened to him. After a slight hesitation the child spoke freely about his abduction and abuse, wasn't tearful or angry, nor did he blame himself. Justin even revealed a great deal of forethought, saying that although he felt he was doing alright he knew he still had a long way to go, was aware he might have issues later when he started dating or when he wanted to marry and have kids.

Dylan was amazed at the exceptional rate in which Justin appeared to be processing the trauma. He, on-the-other-hand, felt as if he were being flayed with a cat-o-nine-tails at every word his son uttered. The thought of his child being tortured set Dylan to praying silently and when Justin grew quiet, Dylan asked why he hadn’t come directly to him about the abuse. It was then that his son cried with the abandon of an infant, sobbing out that he could have endured anything except his rejection. Dylan hugged Justin close, assuring him that would never happen.

As he sat comforting his child, Dylan realized what Carolina had meant by calling the tree house a temple. He was shocked by the amount of his memorabilia the large room contained, countless items that marked different times in his life and career. While studying a framed magazine cover he'd appeared on shortly after Justin's birth he realized there wasn't a single representation of Liz anywhere; images of her had been carefully cut from photos where they'd appeared together. However, before he could ask Justin why he'd done such a thing the twins were down below calling them to breakfast.

Dylan accompanied the boys to the house, taking advantage of their presence to hold Carolina in his arms, stroking her hair and smoothing lines from her brow. He managed to hold on to her until the rest of the Savages stormed the dining hall and kitchen, then he physically lost her in the wild crowd of hungry Texans.

Leaning against a wall he studied her every movement, the way she placed heaping trays of French toast, sausages, and bowls of fruit salad on the tables, how she managed to carry steaming carafes of chocolate and coffee in each hand, serving the piping liquids without spilling a drop or confusing the called out requests. He saw her blush when Jesse and Frank teased her about the dress she'd worn the night before. However, Dylan put an end to her serving and socializing when he saw her noticeably swaying as she placed a serving platter into the sink. Making his way over to stand behind her he enclosed her in the strength of his arms, forcing her to relax against his body, until she whispered her head was killing her and she felt she was going to be sick. He walked with her through the dining hall where she stopped to give Vega a hug and solemn apology for her avoidance the previous day, then she moved on to quickly kiss the twins and Justin. Dylan could see her pale skin taking on a sickly green tint and he rushed her from the dining hall.

They barely reached the nearest bathroom before she began retching violently. He helped her to the toilet, holding her hair and stroking her back while her body shook with spasms, her stomach trying to expel contents that weren't there. When she was done, he washed Carolina's face then helped her up to their bedroom where he tucked her under the covers and ignoring her weak protests he phoned the doctor.

****

Dylan was finishing his second cup of coffee, preparing to pour a third when Chris tossed Carolina's discarded garments of the previous night onto the kitchen table. Placing the coffeepot aside Dylan picked up the thong and placed it in his pocket before bundling the heels into the folds of the robe. He could smell her alluring scent wafting up from the pink cotton and immediately he wanted to be back upstairs with her but she'd steadfastly told him to leave her alone.

Taking the seat across from his brother Chris' tone and look were accusing, “So what the hell did you do that had her so riled up?”

Dylan resumed pouring his coffee, then gulped down a mouthful of the hot liquid before professing, “I slept with Liz, after that fight on Sunday, and Carolina saw us.”

Chris reached out and smacked his brother upside the head. “Damned idiot. You have a great woman who clearly adores you and your son, hell she's taken a shine to all of us. Why would you ever sleep with Liz again?”

Drinking more coffee Dylan shrugged, “Because I'm an idiot.”

Stupefied Chris shook his head at his little brother, “And people think I'm a tomfool. Don't tell me you took Liz in Carolina's bed.”

Dylan leaned back out of Chris' reach. “Okay I won't.”

Chris tossed a napkin at him. “If you'd screwed any other woman besides Liz and if you were really like the rest of us Savages I might understand. But it wasn't, and you’re not. If an escaped serial rapist broke in on Liz, the poor fool would take off screaming in terror, and you stink of monogamy, so does that wild Irish rose you've hooked up with. You have to be a crazy fool to cross her.”

Rubbing his bruised and throbbing jaw Dylan confessed, “You don't have to tell me. She walloped me pretty hard last night and I don't think she was really trying.”

Pointing at his brother's face Chris advised, “Listen to me, don't fight with that redheaded imp. Heck, I'm bigger than you and I wouldn't take her on. I nearly dislocated my shoulder trying to keep hold of her when she was set on murdering Liz.”

Dylan nodded with a raised brow, “You're lucky she never got round to cutting off your hair as payback for that cobra chili.”

Chris grinned. “Me and Carolina, we're straight, even though we got off to a rocky start. She liked that chili and she wouldn't cut my hair cause if she did Vega would never forgive her. But man, I feel sorry for anybody who’s really on her bad side. What she did to Liz was wicked but if you could've seen her light into that boyfriend. She was all over him like a bad rash. The poor guy didn't stand a chance and neither do you. Whatever you have to do, make peace with her 'cause I don't want to be attendin' your funeral.”

Dylan sat his cup aside. “Trust me, if she wanted to kill me I'd be dead already.”

Chris' look was quizzical, “Are y'all still getting married?”

“Yep.” He'd swiped most of her clothing except for one outfit and a pair of shoes, was set to hogtie and haul her to the altar if he had to.

“Where is she? I wanted to thank her for breakfast and see if I could wrangle that French toast recipe from her. I wasn't in the bedroom two minutes before Vega was all over me like a duck on a June bug.”

Dylan was glad he'd forgone breakfast then. “She's in bed waiting for the doctor to come over and check her out.”

Chris gave his brother a hard, mean look. “She's taken sick cause you slapped her. Y'all never did come back down to the party. You know Pa is hanging his head cause a man he raised has taken his hand to a woman. Didn't we all, in our youths, give him enough call to preach the necessity of keeping our fierce natures under control. The four of us boys were as big as most grown men by the time we were six and we all took to seducing the gentler sex when we each achieved our seventh year. If Pa's hair wasn't always that peculiar silvery-gray color, we would have given him white hairs for sure. But, we are his sons so he understands and he never thinks less of us for all the wickedness we engage in; shoot, he came into the world a full grown wolf with a carnal appetite that's never been matched by any of us. But, never did he allow his seed to take root before he was married nor did he abuse the recipients of his affections, or any woman, by word or deed and he schooled the four of us to be like-minded. Being the most reserved of the four of us, you surprisingly have crossed the line on both rules. First, you knocked up Liz and I held my tongue because Pa told me to. Now you've taken to smackin' Carolina. Dylan, you've always been more to me than a favorite brother; I love you greater than my own wife and children. When you left Texas, I was tempted to follow you but Ma and Pa wouldn't allow me to. They told me you needed to be your own man and my responsibility was to wait, be available if you needed me to pick up the pieces of your shattered dreams and for thirteen years, I've done exactly that. Now I'm feeling obliged to tell you Pa and I want an important lesson learned about your recent violation and Ma agrees. You are to never again raise your hand to Carolina as you did last night.”

Dylan looked sadly at his brother, who still couldn't say, let alone accept, their parents were dead and unthinkingly told him, “Carolina keeps having headaches and throwing up,” seeing the rippling waves of anger contorting his brother’s face, Dylan realized Chris was ready to strangle him or at least punch him really hard so he hurriedly added, “It's not cause I gave her that little tap. I'd never hurt her.” But he had, and knew he’d be prone to taking his hand to her rump if she sassed him or behaved disrespectfully.

Chris allowed himself to relax. “I know I kid you about your playing rough with women. Hell, I've enjoyed bondage myself. It's real satisfying, eases a lot of tension, and having married Vega after her years with you I feel I owe you mightily for all you taught her without removing her prized jewels. What you had with her, the games you played, were rare, sweet and tender, a world away from the miserable, twisted relationship you had with Liz which you shouldn't be recreating with Carolina.”

He met his brother's gaze squarely, “I'm not going to.”

Chris wanted Dylan to see that his search for the right woman was finally over. He just had to mind himself. “Although your little lass seems as hard as a coffin nail when she's riled up you have to know Carolina is mostly sweet and soft like mama, like all of the current Savage wives are. I'm not ashamed to admit she had my eyes burning last night with that speech she gave. Ma, Pa and August are very pleased with her indeed. I'm warning you Dylan, too much rough handling won't be good for that little gal, or you especially, if she comes to me complaining that you’ve mistreated her.”

“I know Carolina is a lot like mama.” That's why he'd sent her away the other night, why he'd satisfied his intense cravings with Liz, why he was determined to keep her out of his darkness.

“So if she's having migraines or feeling stressed I'm not surprised with the way y'all carry on. But you've gotta get control of your life, slow the pace or risk burning her out or running her off. Now you know Pa has no liking for shrinks, cause he believes the Good Book and a stiff drink can heal all, but l won't think less of you if you need to seek the advice of a good therapist to keep you from doing something you'll regret.”

Remembering what he'd done to Carolina the previous night Dylan felt his neck burning. “Naw Chris I'll be alright and Carolina just thinks she's suffering from stress, says she's been having headaches almost everyday for the last three weeks. In which case she should've gone for a check-up by now. But no, I had to push the issue of Dr. Arnie coming to examine her and only won because she was too exhausted to argue.”

“Maybe the two of you should stop carryin' on like a couple of teenagers. And speaking of adolescents where are your boys?”

“They're with their tutors.”

Casting a glance here and there, Chris lowered his booming voice, leaning across the table to whisper, “Have you noticed anything strange about them?”

Dylan laughed outright at his brother's dramatics, “Like what?”

Chris spoke with a straight face, “Well for one they're hardly ever separated. The only time I've seen them apart is when one of the twins, the one with the brown eyes and little shamrock birthmark is off talking to my gal Constance or when he's got his head stuck in a book.”

Dylan didn't correct his brother's classification of the child's eyes but he knew they weren't just brown. The twin Chris was referring to was Calder and his eyes were a unique sort of brownish-green hazel with bits of dark blue and vivid orange at their centers. Callum's eyes were the reverse hazel, greenish-brown with the same blue and orange combination in their depths. When they stood along side Justin they were a very handsome trio, destined to be the recipients of many female advances, although they'd yet to voice any interest in the opposite sex and by Savage standards that made them very late bloomers and perhaps in his brother's eyes, somewhat peculiar. Feeling protective of his sons Dylan assured his brother, “Sometimes, we were like that when we were kids.”

Chris gave him a look that read 'who are you trying to fool' before he asked, “What about them saying the same thing at the same time? Synchronicity between the twins, I can understand. But Justin, what's he doing it for?”

“Their just goofing around,” Dylan defended them.

Chris wasn't convinced. “What about the music they play? When the twins first arrived, I heard them and they were nothing special, and that was on Saturday. Now instrumentally they sound as good as Justin and when they all play together and my godson lends that tremendous voice of his to the arrangement, well it's magnificent music to hear. I get goosebumps.”

Dylan shook his head, “You're full of malarkey.”

Chris made the sign of the cross. “I kid you not. Just listen to them rehearse.”

“I will and just so you know, they're coming this way. I wouldn't want you to get scared and pee your pants.” Dylan waved to the approaching trio and watched as they sauntered over, each twin on either side of Justin.

“Hi, Uncle Chris,” the trio greeted in unison before turning to Dylan and falling silent.

He nearly burst out laughing at the 'see what I told you' look Chris gave him. To the trio he smilingly asked, “What's up guys?”

Justin was the only one to say, “Mom won't talk to me.”

“She's just sick with a bad headache. We're waiting for the doctor to take a look at her. When she feels better she'll talk to you,” he assured.

“No she won't. The doctor's already finished with her. Dad, perhaps I’ve done something to upset her or maybe she thinks I’m horrible? When the twins went in to see her she was talking with them just fine, but when I tried to ask about what the doctor had determined, she started crying and won't stop,” he complained glumly.

Chris mentally reviewed her detailed symptoms and blurted out, “It's probably her time of the month. Vega gets like-”

“Shut up Chris,” Dylan lightly told his brother, not wanting to get into a detailed explanation of the female reproductive cycle, especially not Carolina or Vega’s. Knowing the extreme closeness existing between Justin and Carolina, Dylan tried to comfort the boy, “She loves you Justin. She loves all of you. Carolina wouldn't be mad with y'all about anything. I'm sure it's the headache. I'll go up and talk to her.”

The twins asserted in wizened unison, “It's not PMS. She hasn't had a period in ages and it's not just a headache either.”

Dylan, who'd been about to rise from the table, reconsidered the move and asked the boys, “Do y’all want to tell me something?”

The twins looked supportively at Justin who confessed, “I'd been standing outside the door from the time Dr. Arnie arrived. They didn't know I was there until he was leaving. I was just making sure nothing happened to mom. But, Dr. Arnie was totally professional and mom made him examine her through her robe.”

Dylan was proud of the concern Justin showed for Carolina but his eavesdropping had probably made her a little uncomfortable. “Justin you shouldn't have been listening. But even still, I don't think that would have made her cry and not speak to you. But from here on out, no more spying on her by any of you. People need their privacy, even in families, women especially.”

“Dad, whatever is wrong with her it's serious. She only cries like that when someone leaves her or when someone dies,” trumpeted the twins.

Chris made a motion to speak and Dylan put up his hand to silence him. “Callum and Calder what did Carolina say to you?”

“She kept saying she'd always loved us and she really started bawling when she remembered we called her mom for the very first time last night,” stated Callum.

Calder added, “She talked about our family members who've died and she talked a lot about Patrick and their history together.”

“She called him earlier, he's supposed to be on the way here,” said Justin.

That wasn't good, Dylan thought and although he didn't support Justin's well meant listening in he had to know what he'd overheard. “Justin, what did Arnie tell her?”

“I won't say because she might not ever forgive me. But I can tell you that he wants her to see some specialists. Dad go up and make sure she's alright.”

Dylan and Chris exchanged worried glances. They were all silent awhile before Dylan rose from his seat feeling very unsteady, saying to his brother, “I'll let you know what's going on as soon as I can.”

****

He found Carolina sitting on the deck adjacent to their bedroom. She was still dressed in his blue robe and sat barefooted staring across the lush acreage. Kneeling in front of her he took both her hands in his, searched her face for any sign as to the nature of the doctor's findings but all he saw on her face and in her eyes was sadness and his presence didn't draw her gaze from the horizon.

Fear made him speak directly, “The kids are worried. What did the doctor say?”

Her voice was wistful, “Did you know riding is one of my favorite pastimes?”

“No I didn't. We'll go now if you want,” he said, thinking he'd do almost anything to see her happy and smiling.

She looked at Dylan, drawing her hands from his she folded them tightly in her lap, thinking that if she could just not touch him, not consider how much he professed to care for her she could get through what she had to tell him without turning into a complete emotional wreck. Taking a deep breath, she rushed through the first part of what she had to say, “I can't ride now. Dr. Arnie says I might be pregnant. The urine test read positive so he wants me to go in for blood work, to be certain. He also referred me for a neurological consultation to rule out secondary causes of the headaches.”

Dylan had been prepared to hear the worse but part of what she reported was his wish, a baby, their baby. He cupped her face in his hands, stroking the slant of her cheekbones with his thumbs. “That's great precious, I want a big family. I thought you were going to tell me something horrible with the way the kids said you were weeping and carrying on. Does the doctor think the headaches are serious?”

Carolina drew away from him averting her eyes, not wanting to see the genuine happiness on his face, afraid of loosing her resolve. “No he didn't. He told me some women experience headaches during pregnancy. He's just being thorough.”

Dylan thought he'd never seen such a lack-luster expression on her face, heard such an emotionless quality to her voice. “Why aren't you happy?”

She felt confused and torn. “I'm not supposed to be pregnant by you. I’m cursed with a malady akin to an ovulation disorder.”

Lightly touching her face, he willed her to look at him again and when she did he revealed with the joy of a preferent soul, “But that makes your being with child even more special. We're being blessed. From the moment I saw you I knew you'd be my happiness and I know you love me although you can't or won't say the words.”

Clasping the wrist of the hand he was using to caress her throat Carolina dejectedly pushed him away. “I'm leaving-” She stopped when she saw his eyes welling up. This was the man who'd stayed strong the whole time she'd told him about his son's abuse. For her to reject him and the possibility of their child, because she couldn't face his not accepting her as Justin's mother and because she was terrified of loosing him to Liz or another woman was crazy, cowardly, and cruel. Carolina knew she had to stop running, had to stop fighting and give way to the guide directing her life with him.

Dylan's voice held desperation and terror, “Honey, I can’t let you go.” Unlike the previous night he didn't hide his tears, allowed the hot liquid of his anguish to spill from his eyes and burn trails down his face. “I don't want you to forgive me for my infidelity. I don't need you to tell me you love me. We never have to get married. Just stay with the kids and me. I'll devote my life to-”

Carolina's lips found his, moving slowly to luxuriate in the sweet vanilla coffee flavor of his mouth, wanting to give him all he'd ever need, showing him he was the keeper of her life, soul and spirit, all the while revealing a small measure of the fear that had gripped her from their beginning. Her lips kept up their gentle friction against his. She knew by his response he was moving away from the sadness she'd caused, felt him catch his breath as her unsteady fingers dried away his tears, gloried in the moment he opened the robe she wore to run his hands up her naked thighs, easing them apart.

Dylan kissed his way down her throat and on to her breasts where he slowly bathed each with his tongue, taking time to nurse from them as their child would, biting delicately on each nipple until he felt her arching into him, her thighs quivering beneath his touch. His lips resumed their downward journey to stop at the residence that housed, nurtured and protected his child and he mouthed the words 'I've been waiting for you' against her stomach. After a long while he moved on to the dense red forest that bordered paradise, where he sampled her nectar, coating his tongue and lips, kissing, jabbing, sucking, nipping and licking her slowly, then more purposefully until she gripped his head, holding him closer. His mouth was full of her honeyed flavor, his nose inhaling her sweet-piquant bouquet. He went pearl diving and found her precious jewel and lustily admired the tiny gem with slow flicks of his tongue until she was frantic, pushing against his mouth, moaning out her release. Her satisfaction ignited his own, causing his fingers to dig into the flesh of her thighs as his body quaked.

When his mind cleared and he regained motor control, Dylan wrapped her in the warmth of his robe. As he was leaning away, she caught him, drawing him back. He felt her mouth on his, her tongue cleaning his lips with tantalizing strokes that set off massive aftershocks in his system, momentarily stopping his heart and when the anomaly of aphrodisia abated Dylan rested his forehead against hers.

“I'm meeting Patrick. He was coming here but we changed plans.” She looked deep into his eyes, stroking the damp, thick fall of hair framing his face, “There are three days left until I become your wife. Arrangements must be made and Patrick is a wizard at getting things done.”

Dylan knew loving her meant accepting Patrick and if she wanted the other man to help plan their wedding then he would happily defer to her wishes because he adored her and after everything they'd done for his son, he knew he could trust them. Standing he drew her to her feet and walked with her into the bedroom to stand before the closet. “Please thank Patrick for me. I owe you both more than I can ever repay.”

She assured him, “We're family, all of us. There will never be a debt to settle.”

“I spoke with Justin this morning. He confirmed everything you told me. I'm amazed that after such a short time he seems grounded, healthy, and happy even.”

“He's a very special young man,” she tried to keep the sadness from her voice.

“What you and Patrick did for my son enabled him to find a peace neither I, nor his mother would have ever been able to give him,” Dylan professed gratefully.

She didn't want to talk about Justin because inevitably the conversation would shift to the only mother Dylan was willing to acknowledge for him and she knew she'd start bawling again from frustration and fear. Opening the closet, she stopped short at the sight of the nearly bare interior. Quickly she regained her composure and withdrew the only two garments of hers the closet held, silently vowing not to get upset over his trying to hold her prisoner. Looking at him reassuringly, she stated calmly, “Dylan I've given you my word that I'm staying and will marry you. When I get back this afternoon, I want my belonging back in here. Now I better grab a shower and get dressed, dilly-dallying might work against my respite from illness. I'd like to drive myself but if you'd prefer having a staff member accompany me I won't object.”

In many ways, Dylan trusted her, but there were major areas of doubt in his mind regarding her commitment that had him taking desperate measures. He reached into the front pockets of his jeans to withdraw her car and house keys. Reluctantly he relinquished them, despite his having had GPS tracking devices installed in her SUV that morning and tiny transmitters attached to her keys. Earlier when he'd begged her to stay it was because he'd wanted her to do so out of her own desire to be with him. However, he'd never intended to let her go, would have handcuffed her to him to assure she didn't take off. So if she didn't return today of her own free will he'd go bring her back, keep her locked in the gun room until their wedding day, and her reluctance to talk about his biological son made him suspect he'd be having to drag her back tomorrow morning. Not wanting to incite her to not return, Dylan cautiously voiced his next concern, “Justin told me you wouldn’t speak to him.”

Carolina turned so he could clearly see her expression, because she didn't want there to be any misunderstanding between them on the points she was going to make. “After last night I've had to consider my relationship with Justin and feel I must be less focused on him. I wasn't emotionally prepared earlier, but I will be from now on.”

He stroked her hair, “Are you still upset about me not wanting you to adopt him?”

She felt her bottom lip tremble, her heart lurch and knew she still wasn't ready. “I'm sorry Dylan, I believed I'd come to terms with your decision but just the thought of you not accepting him as my child, of us not having a strong, recognized bond between us upsets me. Please don't be cross with me; I just need a bit more time to make the adjustment in my own mind. You can help me by telling him and the twins your decisions. I want to avoid as much stress as possible in case I am truly with child.”

What she was asking was easy enough Dylan thought. “Honey I'm not upset with you. I'll talk with the boys later today. Should I tell them about the baby?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. We'll wait until the pregnancy is confirmed.”

He smoothed the worry from her brow. “Justin already overheard Dr. Arnie.”

She caught Dylan's hand, drawing his palm unsteadily to her lips. “Please, treacle bear, just this once I need my feelings considered first.”

He drew her into the circle of his arms, felt the moderate tremors of fear within her body and he held her close, humming to her softly until the shudders stilled. Then he lightly demanded, “I need you to tell me you're happy about our baby.”

Sighing, she relaxed into him saying, “Down deep I am. But I'm terrified I won't be pregnant or that I'll miscarry.”

He tightened his hold on her, “I'll plan to be at your side through good and bad.”

“Thank you.” She smiled weakly before stepping out of his embrace. “Now I better get moving. Will you make sure Justin and the twins are ready?”

Despite all the mechanisms he'd rushed to put in place this morning to assure she couldn't leave him for good and though she'd given her word to wed him, he was still afraid she wouldn't come back and he let it be known, “They're my sons Carolina, don't take them from me.”

She saw dread in his eyes, heard doubt in his voice and quickly tried to assure him, “Treacle bear, they need clothes for the ceremony, but I guess you're wanting a really casual wedding.”

Dylan allowed her words to comfort him, thinking it would be great to enter a union of families comfortably. Plus, he hated dressing up. “An informal ceremony sounds great and while you're working on the plans with Patrick I'll throw together another engagement party for the clan tonight. The boys can help me. Bring Patrick back with you. I want the entire family here.”

She gave him a worried look. “I'm not sure that's wise. Patrick can be intense.”

“Don't worry, everything will be fine,” sliding his arms around her waist he gave her a lingering kiss before strolling away whistling 'Carolina in My Mind'.

Chapter 11

“You're making a mistake,” Patrick told Carolina as he placed the fast food bag and Styrofoam cup on her kitchen table. Taking the seat across from her, he dug into the large order of fries and double cheeseburger, giving her a disapproving look before taking a long slurp of the cola he'd earlier dosed with whiskey.

Leaning forward, Carolina folded her hands on the table's black surface. He was the man she'd loved nearly her entire human life, with his attractive, deceptively boyish face, chocolate-brown hair habitually styled in a collegiate cut, eyes the color of spent coffee grounds and a lethally lean, yet muscular body that had given her unparalleled pleasure. He was a man she could trust, not one she could control. “I'm begging you to forget about Liz and her boyfriend,” her voice was smooth, belying the nervousness she felt at asking him to go against one of his fundamental beliefs.

“Because you're in love with Dylan,” he stated, before taking a bite of his burger.

While his hands were busy, Carolina swiped one of his fries and popped it in her mouth. After she devoured the tiny morsel, she noted, “I don't want to tell him the woman he holds in such high regard is evil.”

Patrick wiped his mouth with a paper napkin looking at her intently. He never tired of seeing her. She wore her radiant ginger-red hair brushed back, secured with an elastic band at the nape, with the long ends left free to coil down the back of her nutmeg colored shirt she'd paired with a complimentary multicolored chiffon skirt that he'd had to resist lifting up all day for a feel of her silky legs. Her getting married would be hard on him. She would legally belong to another, as she'd wanted to belong to him since she was a colleen, but he'd never been able to commit to being the type of man she needed forever. Now she was to bond her soul to another for the rest of her life without the requisite acknowledgment that she cared for her intended greater than any other. For all her talents he was astounded that she often lacked insight or the ability to see what was before her eyes. “Do you honestly not know or are you messing with me?”

Her stomach made an audible growl and she looked longingly at the remainder of his fries. “I don't want to make the admission aloud.” When her belly made another annoyed rumble she asked unabashedly, “Are you going to eat the rest of those? I'm feeling as weak as a salmon in a sandpit.”

Removing his food from her reach, Patrick lightly scolded Carolina, “You shouldn't eat stuff like this.” Standing, he went over to the large black refrigerator saying, “For you I'll warm up some homemade vegetable soup.” Taking a pot to the range, he talked over his shoulder to her, “Look in the cookie jar. I baked gingersnaps.”

Carolina moved on bare feet to the counter that housed a row of canisters and hungrily raided the black ceramic jar. She'd been too sick to have breakfast and hadn't wanted to eat before coming to see Patrick. While they'd finalized business at her office and as they'd personally obliterated the evidence of Justin's ordeal, she'd been content to sip bottled water. As they'd worked through her wedding arrangements, getting everything accomplished except for selecting rings, a task Patrick wouldn't undertake because he insisted Dylan already had them, she'd felt the first stirrings of hunger. Now her appetite was fully aroused and she was headache free.

Returning to her seat she arranged the cookies on the saucer he placed before her, breathing in the aroma of cinnamon and molasses before taking a healthy bite of one, savoring its melt-in-your-mouth texture before retuning to the original topic of conversation, admitting, “I feel a fierce love for him Patrick close to what I have for you and I'm frightened. My every action whether right or wrong is taken to prove I can be everything he needs which is why I don't want you to finish off Liz and her boyfriend. In his eyes, I need to be better than her. If she goes missing or turns up dead, he'll know you or I had something to do with her demise. He's not stupid.”

Patrick's tone was derisive, “Dylan's an idiot. He had sex with her in your bed.”

Carolina paid no mind to his tone, continuing her efforts to sway him, “Liz or her boyfriend, won't want to cross me again and I'll not have Dylan in a rage because of my actions against that woman. Patrick, he's not gentle or easy to manage and though he's proven his love by holding on to me every time I've pushed him away or was set to leave with the boys, he carries a deep wound he believes only she can heal, 'tis why he slithered about with that she-serpent the other afternoon, and if she disappears from this world, I fear, as was the case with Ciaran, Clover and you, he would go after her.”

Taking one of her hands Patrick requested her full attention, speaking to her in a controlled manner he set about bringing her back to reality, “Your thinking is dangerously faulty if you believe Liz and her boyfriend aren't planning to separate you and the twins from Dylan when she finds out you're marrying him. The pregnancy will make you an easier target. Don’t take this unnecessary risk Gingernut. Dylan and his brothers are all die-hard family men,and now that he knows you're carrying a Savage heir, have proven your devotion to his firstborn, he won't care what happens to Liz.”

Pulling her hand away from his Carolina resumed eating, electing to keep the veil over her eyes. “There's a chance I might not be pregnant.”

Leaning across the table, he gave her a platonic peck on the lips because she was adorable in her foolish single-mindedness. Sitting back, Patrick assured her in an uncharacteristically exuberant fashion, “You're pregnant, Gingernut. On Saturday, I knew you were. You had a different flavor, your fragrance was more profuse and when I touched your stomach I got the most exhilarating shock.”

She didn't doubt him. Patrick had ways off knowing some things before they happened or before they were revealed. She stroked the smoothness of his jaw asking with admiration, “Why didn't you tell me?”

For a moment, he pressed his cheek against the warmth of her palm before pulling away. Walking to the stove he dished up a bowl of soup then returned to serve her ceremoniously. Taking his seat he watched as she spooned the hot broth into her mouth without allowing the steaming liquid to cool. “Knowing wouldn't have made any difference. You've been fighting against and for the truest love of your life and you'll be warring even more if you don't permit me to end this.”

Allowing her spoon to rest in the bowl she asserted, “No Patrick. Justin is safe, you've avenged him and he's getting the best help possible. Dylan is very grateful for all you've done. He wants you to come home tonight.”

Patrick shrugged, his tone cool, “I'll be there.”

Carolina resumed eating. “So are we straight on the Liz issue? She and her boyfriend are to be left alone Patrick Donovan.”

He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, “Alright, but only if you can assure me the kids will not suffer, including the little dote you're carrying.”

“On my life,” she vowed.

Patrick's finger's stilled, rigidity creeping into his voice, as he warned, “No, not on yours. I love you too much. But if anything happens to the kids, without hesitation, I'll finally rid this planet of Liz and her boyfriend, and then I'm out of your life forever.”

Carolina choked on the soup, placing her hand over her mouth she coughed and sputtered. As much as she knew Patrick loved her, he couldn’t change what he was. He'd always be committed to his purpose no matter how personally painful. This was the man who'd aided in the suicide of her brother, the only person in an eternity he'd ever been in love with. He'd taught her loving meant doing what was hard, and in saying he, the sole constant in her life would leave, he would be demonstrating his adoration of her, although torturing them both. Looking at him she struggled to stay calm, her voice full of sorrow, “Do you expect me to live without you?”

Placing both palms flat against the table, he settled deeper into himself, tamping down the desire to claim her, not trespassing into her mind to make her see reason. Resolutely he cautioned her, “Yes. If something happens to the kids. You, the twins, Justin and your baby are everything to me. Dylan Savage, although you love him and he's the father of your children, is expendable. I have no bond with him. Nevertheless, I won't hurt him because you'd hate me and I won't hurt his family because you love them. I just won't be around ever again to be reminded of your sacrifice. Now choose, do I end this or do you allow them to live?”

She pushed her food away, “You will not kill them nor will you leave me. My brother may possess your heart, but form and spirit, you've always been as one with me. I don't even think you have the strength to leave forever, just remember what happened after Ciaran's death,” she stated firmly, unwilling to loose Dylan or Patrick. She'd sooner sell her soul for one and extinguish the flames of Hell for the other.

“Alright Gingernut,” he accepted. With an aggrieved look at the soup and cookies he'd made especially for her, he pushed them back to where they belonged, looking at her expectantly. Carolina quietly rose from the table and walked out.

****

In the casually decorated music room, Dylan sat on a brown leather sofa listening to his sons practice, Justin singing lead vocals, Calder playing guitar and Callum at the piano. Dylan realized he should have paid more attention to Chris’ comments on the quality of their music. He wasn't getting goosebumps as his brother had reported. Instead, his eyes were misty and he had a lump in his throat. The trio's execution was flawless and indeed the twins were demonstrating a musical sophistication they hadn't shown a few days earlier. Justin, who already possessed a wide vocal range, now poured more of his soul into the music, belting out the classic 'Always and Forever', moving from the high notes to the lows effortlessly.

When they finished the song Dylan called them over to sit on an identical sofa across from him and he wasn't surprised when Justin sat between the twins because they always seemed to be aligning themselves in a sort of inverted “V” with the taller, golden-haired, Justin at its apex and the twins' shorter builds with their mahogany-red locks on each side. They were all dressed in denim shorts, tie-dyed tees and tattered sneakers. Smiling warmly, he praised them, “I haven’t heard such moving music since before my Ma passed on. If y’all keep up like that and if Carolina agrees the three of you can start a music career of your own.”

Sitting back on the couch, Justin took the announcement in stride, but the twins couldn’t contain their excitement. They sat on the edge of the sofa, bouncing slightly, eyes so wide with eagerness that they dominated their faces. In much anticipation the asked, “Dad, do you really think so?”

He nodded at them. “Yep, but remember your mom has the final say. She may not want y’all on the road and away from her for long periods of time.” He watched as some of the excitement left the twins’ faces and although he thought he’d do almost anything to make them happy, his sober and sensible mind didn’t relish the idea of causing Carolina upset before the wedding or the birth of their child. He didn’t even know if she realized that he and Justin would have to be away from home so many weeks out of the year. Thinking he’d tell her that piece of business after they were married and at the same time broach the topic of the twins getting into the music industry, so they’d have only one big argument, he mentally applauded his self-serving underhandedness and obsessive determination to be married to his honey With his lopsided decisions made, Dylan spoke in a gentle but commanding tone to address a more immediate issue with the trio, “Boys I told Carolina I'd talk to y'all because you presented her with concerns about adoption. Callum and Calder you want me to become your father legally and I'm honored. A few days after the wedding we'll go to my lawyers and get the process started.”

“Great,” the twins chimed, jumping up to give each other a high-five over Justin's head before settling back on the sofa.

During the twin's brief celebration, Dylan looked at Justin's expectant face, saw the brilliant light of excitement in the boy's eyes and realized why Carolina hadn't wanted to deliver the news. “Justin, first of all Carolina isn't upset with you. She wasn't feeling well and the news she heard from the doctor had her a bit out of sorts.”

Justin sighed in relief. “Okay dad. So when she gets back she'll talk to me?”

“Let's see how she's feeling,” Dylan responded patiently.

Justin voice lowered, “Is she worried about being pregnant?”

“A little. I promised I wouldn't talk with y'all about the baby 'til after she sees the doctors. For now we'll respect her wishes by not bringing up her condition.”

“Okay,” the boys all chorused their agreement.

Dylan leaned back. “Now Justin about you being adopted.”

With a wide smile, Justin sat forward excitedly, “Yeah dad?”

Dylan crossed his arms over his chest, “Carolina will be your step-mother.”

Justin scowled, “Did you trick mom into saying she didn't want to adopt me?”

Seeing the anger in his son's eyes, Dylan wondered how he’d never noticed the irises that he’d always considered identical to his own, held flecks of Connemara green. In a decided tone, he told his child, “I'm the one who's against the adoption.”

Staring at Dylan in hurt disbelief Justin and Callum chimed, “Why?

“Because Liz is your mother, Justin,” he replied mildly.

“Bullshit,” Justin yelled, pointing his finger at his father.

Taken aback by his son's profanity Dylan's eyes widened, “Excuse me?”

Justin's finger remained aimed at his father, “I won't accept what you say. I want my real mother to adopt me. I don't see the problem.”

Dylan's posture stayed relaxed, “Liz is your real mother and she'll never agree to you being adopted by Carolina or any woman.”

Justin's finger punctuated the air as he hotheadedly voiced his opinion, “Liz is a whore. She's not my mother.”

Raking his fingers slowly through his hair, Dylan struggled to remain understanding with Justin. “I know you've been through a rough time and I'm willin' to let a bit of your attitude slide off my back but you need to muzzle the profanity or so help me you'll be grounded so long you'll have more white-hairs than a polar bear before you get any freedom. Now, accept that Carolina can't adopt you.”

His father's cool power dampened some of the fire Justin was feeling, his hand lowering to his side, his bottom lip trembling, “No. I will not obey you on this matter. Everything I went through was to bring Carolina into our lives and keep her with us. All the times I got kicked out of school was so we'd relocate so I could get to where she was and when I found her by accident you had to make love to her and scare her off. She was never going to see you again, not even the twins could convince her, but for me, her firstborn babe, she came back to you.”

Leaning forward, clasping his hands between his spread knees Dylan's voice was concerned, “It's okay to care for her but you have to stop making things up.”

Matching his father's posture, Justin unerringly stated, “It's true. You need to stop hiding who and what you are. I was created solely by your essence, but birthed by that demon you married so my existence would be acceptable to our clan and society. My spirit came to you so I'd finally have the caring father I longed for. I entered this world to find the mother who'd been stolen from me and unite her with you, bring the whole of our family together. Mom is the love of your entire being. You've dreamed of her completing you since your birth. She's everything the mother of your children and your wife is supposed to be, plus she's exceptionally pleasing in bed.”

Shocked by his son's words Dylan abruptly sat back, “Justin that's enough. By all that's holy, I can't believe you'd say such a thing.”

Justin's anger resurfaced two-fold, his finger wagging once again in his father's direction, “I can't believe you'd cheat on my mother with Liz.”

In the light of his son's anger Dylan remained levelheaded, “What I do or don't do with Carolina or Liz beyond the realm of parenting you is none of your concern.”

Justin remained argumentative, “That's where you're wrong. I've waited three decades to have her back and won't allow you to mess things up. Soon she'll get upset over your decision and refuse to marry you even though you did impregnate her.”

To Dylan, Justin's words sounded contemptuous, “That's enough young man.”

Justin refused to back down, “I'm warning you dad, this morning she was set to leave but she didn't because she's afraid you'll remarry Liz. By not legally acknowledging she's my mother, not getting Liz completely out of our lives, worry will plague my mother until disaster strikes and when it does I doubt I'll be able to forgive you.”

“Justin, that's enough,” Calder warned, seeing from their dad's expression that he was terribly wounded and that someone else had entered the room.

Justin ignored Calder, “When my mom told you I'd been abused she-”

“Callum and Calder go upstairs,” instructed Carolina from her standing position, directly behind the sofa where they were sitting. She watched the twins hurry out and observed Justin's posture loosing its bold fury. Still standing behind the sofa Carolina's voice was filled with disapproval, “You will apologize to your father for your behavior.”

Justin swiveled his torso so he could look at her. “Mom, I want him to agree to the adoption.” Greeted by none of the warmth he normally received from her Justin turned back to his father. “Dad I'm-”

“I don't want to hear your hollow words,” he interrupted bitterly; disheartened because he knew Justin wasn't sorry. He addressed Carolina sharply, “What didn't you tell me?”

“I told you everything,” she fibbed, knowing she hadn't told him about Liz but she was sure Justin wasn't aware that Liz had instigated his abduction and abuse.

Unable to determine if she was telling the truth Dylan shifted his gaze to his son quizzing him, “What didn't Carolina tell me?”

Justin asked gravely, “Did she tell you she gave me this life back?”

“Yes she did,” Dylan admitted, feeling deeply indebted.

“But her saving me makes no difference to you does it?” Justin sat back folding his arms across his chest glaring at his father.

“I'm extremely grateful to Carolina because I would never want to know the grief of loosing you. But for this, no, it doesn't make a difference.”

Justin sighed heavily, “Before, you only ever showed me love; until you made me live alone with Liz these last years, which was the sign you no longer want me as your son. The closer I got to finding my real mother the more you pushed me down into that hell with your ex-wife. Now that I've found your soul mate for you, it seems that you plan to toss me out like week old leftovers. I heard you threaten to send me away to boarding school but if you ever try I'll tell Uncle Chris and he'll stop you.”

Carolina tried calming Justin, “Your father wasn't ever going to send you away. He only voiced the threat so I wouldn't leave the two of you. You're his life.”

Never looking at her and with his eyes glued to his father's, Justin continued as if she hadn't spoken a word. “You deliberately got her pregnant, like the one who broke her heart the first time. Everything has to be about you. Her loving you on your terms. You don't consider her feelings. You haven't romanced her or done anything special to prove yourself worthy of her love. The first day I was the one who got her the planter because I knew the colors blue and gold make her happy, but you can't take the time to get her flowers or her favorite honey. You spend a fortune on Liz, unwilling to bow out of the drama you created, trying to fit her into the mysterious puzzle of your life but she will never lock into the rest of the pieces because she doesn't belong.

Carolina tried to calm him, “Justin please, you mustn't be disrespectful. Your father cares for us, cherishes you. I don't need flowers and honey.”

Justin wouldn't allow her to belittle her value, minimize her desires and end up wasting away like an untended garden. “The one thing she's asked you for are to accept her as my mother, allow her to adopt me. Mom didn't ask for a new baby. She only wants her own son back. Patrick would arrange the adoption for her just as quickly as he sprung me from Liz's prison. That's why she'll always love him more than she'll ever care for you. So, I'll accept your coldhearted decision about the adoption but know neither you or your new baby will replace me and when she leaves I'll get emancipated and go to her, the twins and the new baby and we'll be a family.”

Before Dylan or Carolina could respond to Justin's emotional bombshell the twins walked back in saying in unison, “We know we're not supposed to be here but we have something to say.” Calder glanced in Dylan's direction, and then looked at the floor, leaving Callum to speak, “If Justin isn't going to be adopted then I don't want to be either.”

Calder knew his twin was waiting for him to make the same statement but he couldn't. Instead, he raised his eyes to Dylan's saying charmingly, “I want you to become my blood-father. Patrick has to perform the ceremony.”

Hearing Calder's statement on the tail end of Justin's heated dialogue left Carolina feeling winded. She agitatedly shook her head at Dylan urging him to refuse even though she knew he had no idea what the child was talking about or the significance of the request. She felt the weave of her tightly crafted life unraveling.

Dylan read her unease and was torn. He started, “Calder, son-”

Sensing the possibility of being refused Calder knelt before Dylan taking both the man's hands in his, forcing him to not look at Carolina, and started to explain, “She's not supposed to influence you. I want you to be my dad because you spend time with me, listening, making me feel important, teaching me things like Ciaran did, as Patrick does. I'd be respectful, obedient and you'd never regret being bound to me.”

Justin and Callum chorused, “Calder you're a traitor.”

Calder rolled his eyes at them saying, “You're the selfish ones. Dylan is the head of this family. It should be enough that he and Carolina love us. Patrick says although we should try to live within the parameters of earthly rules, we're all beyond man's law. I don't need a piece of paper to symbolize Dylan's willingness to be my father because in my heart he already is and only blood is stronger than a heart connection.”

Giving the child's hands a strong squeeze, Dylan assured him, “You're right Calder, you and Callum are my sons like Justin is.”

With his eyes still on the brilliant man he viewed as a god, Calder continued to speak to his brothers, “Justin we're all mom's children and additionally she gave you your human life again which makes you more connected to her. But, you’ve dishonored her by saying the things you did. You're the one who doesn't deserve her and neither Callum do you or I.”

“Shut up Calder,” his twin warned.

Releasing Dylan's hands Calder turned on Callum with a glare, “I won't. When she refused to see Dylan, it was your stupid idea to keep getting into her head when she was asleep. That's when she started getting sick.” Unable to face Carolina, Calder turned to Dylan saying, “We didn't mean to hurt her. We just wanted us to be a family. But Patrick always says strength of blood has to be respected and you're a lot like him Dylan. You want Justin to respect Liz because you placed her in the position of your wife, want her to know the respect you believe all mothers are due, even though you know there's nothing of her that gave life to Justin. Patrick tells Callum and me to respect Ciaran even though he chose to die and be with our birth mother, as we should have respected Carolina’s decisions about you. But Justin, Callum and I had to do something because Patrick says mom can be stubborn and defensive.”

Dylan gave Carolina a bewildered look, “I thought your brother died with his wife.”

“No, Ciaran died a few weeks later.” She closed her eyes against the memory.

Callum chose to correct her, “He begged Patrick to kill him and he did because-”

Carolina's voice was edged with pain, “Callum, I need you to stop talking.”

“Sure,” the child clammed up, lowering his gaze to the floor.

Calder looked momentarily from his twin to Carolina then went on with his dialogue, “While blood is the ultimate connection, a heart connection, in rare circumstances, can be stronger. Patrick's connection to Ciaran is like that, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make Ciaran happy. Carolina and Patrick’s heart connection is not all consuming which allows her a great capacity to care for others deeply, like me, Callum and Justin, which is sort of expected because we’re her children, but she embraces others too without reservation. Callum and I are more like our blood father, we're not as open to people as mom is but we immediately took to you and Justin because we always knew we would be together. Even before we officially met the two of you we learned all about you, knew we are all deeply connected, especially Justin to me and Callum. We twins and Justin were born exactly three months and one day apart, three minutes separating each birth within the same hour. That makes us brothers to an extent that is mind-boggling. Growing up with mom we use to talk about the two of you all the time, like the morning of the first day you came to our home, we'd been talking about you and Justin but she doesn't remember, she suppresses things that make her sad so she won't want to disappear. Now that's unlikely to ever happen, because she'll finally be happy and the consuming blood-heart connection she shares with Justin, like you and your brothers have with your own parents and August, especially like the connection you have with your mother, will make her acting drastically to avoid life's pain almost impossible.”

Dylan looked at Calder as if he were from another planet but asked with genuine interest, “What do know about my relationship with my mother?”

Callum angrily scolded his twin, “Shut up idiot. You're freaking him out.”

“No, I want to hear what Calder has to say,” Dylan assured Callum.

“You're the child she wasn't supposed to have, a child like me, Callum, Justin, Patrick, Carolina and Uncle Chris. Your mother is the reason you can sing the way you do. You were born three months prematurely, during a freak storm when she was alone. She delivered you but you weren't alive and she couldn't call for help because the phone lines were down. But, she wanted you to live so she took you out into the lightning seeking divine intervention and sang over you the first song you ever heard, the first song she ever taught you, 'Amazing Grace'. She vowed you'd live to sing and from your first breath you could open the gates of heaven.”

Dylan gave an uneasy chuckle shaking his head in wonder at the boy's surprise retelling of his Texas birth. “How did you hear that old story?”

Calder looked at Carolina knowing she wouldn't be happy with his revelations, the thin line of her lips already telling of her displeasure so far, but turning from her he took a deep breath and proceeded, “Your mother, Susan, told a bit of your history a few days ago. Gammy confided she hadn't wanted you to marry Vega or Liz because Vega was too gentle and Liz was pure poison. So your Ma had Chris and Vega marry, but she didn't have time to get Liz away from you before she and your dad went to heaven.”

Watching as Dylan's tanned face drained to paste-white, Carolina cautioned Calder, “You've told us enough tales. Why don't you and your brothers-”

“Calder, come here,” Dylan motioned to the sofa cushion next to him, exhaling slowly to give himself time to adjust to the rush of blood back into his head. When the child was seated beside him Dylan asked, “What else do you know?”

Obligingly Calder announced, “Gammy Susan wants you to wear your dad's wedding band and Carolina should wear her rings. They're everlasting like true love, that's why they weren't destroyed in the fire; it's why the flames couldn't touch your parents.”

Dylan thought his brother's were playing a cruel joke on him because they'd always teased him about being their mother's favorite. Now he was gonna find out for sure and if his brothers were involving Calder in their shenanigans he'd chuck the hulking miscreants out on their backsides faster than a dog could lift his hind leg on a post. Narrowing his eyes and scratching his head he asked Calder, “Did my Ma or Pa say where the rings are 'cause I've kinda forgotten?”

“Sure. Gammy said they're in your safe in the gunroom, the combination, in case you don't remember, is the date and year of their wedding. Also Gammy wants you to know that Carolina is the happiness she always promised you.”

Dylan suffered another color-drain and his hands shook as he tousled Calder's hair, “My Gosh you're amazing.” He remembered on at least two occasions asking Carolina who she was and now he knew he should have been questioning what all of the Conways were. He was poised to ask that very question but reconsidered when he saw her nervously twisting her hair around her index finger.

Carolina pleaded, “Calder, I want you to stop right this minute.”

Dylan shushed her, waving his hand in her direction, “Carolina go have a nap. I'll come up when we're done. Now Calder, tell me, do you see and talk to my parents?”

Calder looked to Carolina, watching as she folded her arms across her chest in disapproval but he forged ahead, “Patrick does. He talks to and sees my birth mom and dad too. However, they're not in heaven with your parents. They're in Patrick's other home.”

Carolina paled, her fair complexion going milk-white before Dylan's eyes as she begged the child, “Calder please stop this. Patrick shouldn't tell you those things because you're too young to make sense of them.”

“Mom, he can't refuse to tell me if I ask about important things. Just as he had to do, what Ciaran asked. You're the only one of us he can deny,” Calder reproached her, holding her gaze until she flushed and turned away from him.

Seeing Carolina had nothing else to say, Dylan asked Calder, “Is there more?”

Calder seized the opportunity to continue demonstrating his superior knowledge, albeit second-hand, and to brooch his own agenda, “Yes. When a person is really lucky and not related by birth-blood or bound by earthly moral constraints, they can have a physical connection that makes a heart connection better. So, when I'm ready to marry Chris' daughter, Constance, I can because we're not birth-blood related.”

Justin and Callum groaned loudly. They'd been listening to Calder go on about Constance since he'd met her and they were tired of the subject. Just like they were now sick of his nonstop yapping. They were preparing to speak up about his endless yammering when Dylan gave them a look of blazing white light and they stayed silent.

Calming himself Dylan looked at Calder and replied, “That's right.”

Calder leaned closer to Dylan saying conspiratorially, “You'll talk to Uncle Chris so he'll promise her to me and not someone else. I know he'll not part with her easily especially since I'm younger than she is and not as hefty as he'd want for the spouse of his most favored princess but I can make her happy. We met up the other night out by the stables and dad she sang to me so beautifully, my heart stopped and I saw angels everywhere. Now I understand why Uncle Chris doesn't allow her to sing for ordinary people. But I'm way better than average and I'd be a great husband to her.”

Noting the fevered exuberance on the boys face Carolina asked him, “Calder what time were you out at the stables and what were the two of you doing?”

Calder gave a start of surprise, in his excitement about Constance he'd forgotten Carolina was there. Bashfully he answered, “We were out there for a few hours, from midnight on, just doing stuff promised couples do.” He cast love struck eyes upon her and blushed pink from the neck of his tie-dyed tee, to the roots of his hair.

Justin and Callum burst into laughter and Carolina gave them a cold look prompting them to clamp their mouths shut. To Calder she explained, “You're a little boy. You shouldn't be sneaking off to do stuff with girls, especially not Chris' daughter and not because he'll be upset when he finds out but because you need to respect and love a girl before you do things with her.”

Trying to put her mind at ease he assured her, “I do love and respect Constance. We did things like you and Patrick use to do in Dublin, but I didn't bleed Constance.”

Remembering the things she and Patrick had done, it was now Carolina’s turn to blush. Struggling for composure, she tried to find words to address Calder’s midnight tryst, however, all she could do was sputter, looking helplessly at Dylan who stared back at her questioningly and a bit peevishly too. She guiltily shifted her gaze to the yellow planter of blue flowers Justin had presented to her weeks earlier, which now adorned the piano top.

“Chris is going to kill him,” Callum mumbled under his breath and when Dylan focused on him, he shrugged and stared out the window.

Dylan asked with a shocked note to his voice, “What does he mean Carolina?”

She looked at Calder hoping he'd keep quiet and addressed Dylan, “It's like becoming blood-brothers but strictly between individuals who feel intensely drawn to each other and for particular bloodlines the undertaking is very serious.”

“So you and Constance cut your fingers, exchanged blood and became...” Dylan had no idea how to finish and sat looking at the open-faced child waiting for him to supply some further explanation.

Calder glanced at everyone in turn, his eyes resting for a long time on Carolina before his gaze shifted to Dylan at which point he confided, “Nope. We sat out.” This man was his new father and he saw no reason to lie to him. Leaning over he whispered into his dad's ear what he had done with Constance then sat back waiting for a response.

Dylan gave the boy a nod and ruffled his hair not once letting his face register the fact that while Chris would be proud that at least Calder was exhibiting the Savage flair with the opposite sex he'd be pissed that the recipient of the romantic attention was his pride and joy, Constance. Dylan had already sat through one of Chris' talks today and now he'd be getting another earful and very likely punched as well. Not taking his eyes off the child Dylan cleared his throat and in a despondent tone he addressed Carolina, “You and I need to talk about your life in Ireland.” With that proclamation made, he told Calder, “No more sleeping in the tree house for any of you and no more going out to the stables after dark without supervision Calder, not because you went there with Constance but because the stables at night aren't safe when you're unsupervised.”

Undeterred, Calder campaigned, “Yes sir and you'll talk to Chris for me?”

Dylan affectionately assured the child, “Calder every chance I get I'll put in a good word for you with Chris. Now go on with what Patrick taught you.”

Calder beamed at Dylan before continuing, “Physical bonds alone, like you had with Liz, won't last forever.”

“Newsflash,” Justin interjected sarcastically.

Calder ignored him, continuing his dialogue, “An intellectual connection can exist on its own and can sometimes be more intense and longer lasting than even the best sex or make a physical bond stronger.”

“Goodness gracious,” Carolina exclaimed feeling stunned at the amount of information Patrick had passed on to the child without her awareness. “Calder when have you been talking to Patrick about these things?”

“Whenever I call him and ask about stuff he tells me. I can also hear him in my head like I do Callum and Justin. You can too. Patrick told me so. But, you try not to and you’re so powerful you can keep us all of out of your waking thoughts. When you're asleep we can sneak in, but we're not supposed to. Patrick doesn't have to trespass though because you usually confide in him very freely.”

Dylan was intrigued and asked, “Calder can you hear me in your head?”

“No. We've tried before but all we heard was static and we got shocked a lot. Probably because we're not supposed to try without your consent.”

“Go ahead and try,” Dylan assured the boy.

Calder sat looking at Dylan for several seconds, concentrated for a few more, studied him again, and then gave a little yelp before saying disappointedly, “Nothing.”

Relieved, Dylan patted the child on the knee for his efforts. “Thanks for trying.”

“You're welcome. So, I’m going to finish what Patrick told me. He disclosed that a small number of individuals have many of the connections with one other person that will last until they both move on from this world and in very rare cases, entities like Patrick, August and your parents, are blessed to have many of the strong connections with several people that last beyond mortal life. Patrick and my legal father share connections of blood, heart and intellect. Patrick shares similar connections with me, Callum and now Justin, except his connection to our father is stronger because he's in love with him and because when our dad Ciaran was paralyzed, Patrick helped him end his life. Also Patrick and my dad are extra connected because they slept together with our birth mom Clover just before we were nestled inside her, again when she was newly pregnant with us and other times too but he says he can't explain that until I'm eighteen.”

Carolina was at the end of her rope and she fixed Calder with a toxic green glare that would have brought Superman to his knees. “He better not ever tell you and I better not find out you asked. I'm going to have a talk with Patrick about his lack of good judgment and Dylan I expect you not to encourage Calder. I don't want to hear anymore about adoptions, emancipation, letting, late night visits to the stables or tales about my brother's relations with his wife and best friend.”

Dylan looked at her apologetically and urged Calder on, “Go ahead son.”

Wanting to align with his newest father so he'd champion his cause, Calder scooted nearer to Dylan and started, “Patrick's connection to Carolina is-”

“Calder this is hurting me,” she interrupted him weakly. “I need you to stop telling Dylan these fanciful stories. Patrick didn't mean for you to tell anyone else.”

“He says whatever I learn I can freely repeat,” Calder stated confidently.

“Probably because he knows everybody is going to think you're nuts,” Callum snickered and quickly fell silent when Carolina gave him a scolding look.

Not buying into Carolina's weak damsel routine Dylan urged Calder to continue, “Go on and finish son.”

“Patrick is exponentially connected to Carolina in every way possible. Nothing is stronger than their bond, even though he isn't in love with her, and there's only one thing, each, they wouldn’t do for one another. Patrick's is he won't legally marry her and Carolina's is she can't stop being in love with him. So he's okay with you marrying her as long as you love her and treat her nice. He told me, you and Carolina have very strong physical and heart connections. If you bleed each other during the full moon you'll have the ultimate blood tie and by the time you're both old you'll have built a good intellectual connection. Patrick says you and mom think differently, from opposite sides of your brains, and even though Carolina is really smart she can be mentally hyperopic. But he doesn't think your connection to her will ever be as strong as his.”

Dylan asked Calder while looking accusingly at Carolina, “Why not?”

Calder sat silent for a few seconds then entrusted, “Patrick will tell you when he's ready. For now, what's important is that he believes you'll make her happy and you won't allow her to boss you around. He says she has a temper and likes to fight. But, I’ve only ever seen her loving and gentle but sometimes she does sulk, kinda like what she’s doing now. But dad, the good news is that Patrick blessed your union to her.”

“That's right big of him,” Dylan sourly remarked.

Calder gave him a look of the utmost importance and confided, “Having his consent is mandatory. She can't get married otherwise. Before when she tried without his approval, Patrick ran the guy off and to punish her he allowed her to think the guy just ditched her. But she wasn't supposed to marry that tosspot. They had no connections, absolutely none. She never even allowed him to kiss her and he couldn't bleed her because he's not of our kind. She was only marrying him because Patrick wouldn't legally wed her and she thought Callum and I needed a consistent paternal presence in our lives,” he declared, looking at her solemnly.

Dylan refocused Calder's attention, urging him to continue, “Son, finish on up.”

The child was happy to oblige, saying, “Now hopefully we can accept that the connections we already have are stronger than man's law, understand that being adopted isn't really that important. Now Dylan I just need you to agree to be my blood-father so I can get a jump on Patrick when he gets here because I think mom is going to be harping at him most of the night and I need you to swear you’ll talk to Uncle Chris about my marrying Constance. You know if we lived in North Carolina I could wed her after my next birth-”

“Dylan.” From the doorway, Chris' big voice boomed into the room making all if the occupants jump nervously and turn in his direction. “There's some young whelp here to see Carolina and he's got a brokenhearted look about him that could mean trouble.”

From behind Chris a clear, sturdy voice, with a trace of Irish brogue piped up, “Carolina will you or Dylan please tell him to let me pass.”

Trying hard to conceal his irritation, Justin looked toward his uncle, affixing a tight smile on his face while Calder and Callum gave stoked shouts, “It’s Patrick!”

Dylan giving Carolina a fierce look, expressed to his brother, “You have no idea how much trouble, but let him in.”

Chris, continuing to block Patrick's entrance, said to Carolina with a note of concern, “You feelin' okay? 'Cause if not, I can pitch this pup back out on the doorstep.”

Putting on a brave face Carolina smiled fondly at Chris, knowing only an act of God could keep Patrick out if he really wanted in, “I'm fine. You can let him in.”

Patrick, hearing Carolina's voice, didn't wait for the wall of muscle, dressed in Levi's and a Dallas Cowboys jersey, to give way; instead, he slapped Chris jovially on the back before self-assuredly pushing past him. “I know the party isn't for hours but I wanted to drop off some wedding stuff and the chili I made for Chris and Vega.”

Chris gave Patrick a suspicious look, “What chili?”

“It's my own special recipe that I haven't prepared in over six years. Carolina can tell you, it's not for the faint of heart. She was in bed for nearly a week the last time she ate a couple of bowls.” He smiled at the memory, giving her a swift, knowing look and ignored the visual daggers Dylan was hurling his way. Digging in the front pocket of his coal-black, designer jeans, Patrick withdrew a silver and black leather key ring and tossed it to Calder. “You and your brothers take Chris out to the car for his chili, then get her unloaded, including the glove compartment Calder, the gift you wanted for Constance is in there. When you're done give Chris the keys. I don't want you three trying to drive my car. I need to talk with Carolina and Dylan.”

Chris looked down at Patrick from his superior height asking doubtfully, “You're old enough to legally drive?”

Giving Chris his full attention and a bright smile, Patrick commented, “I'm old enough to do a lot of things and I do them all very well, one of which is driving the Lamborghini Reventon you'll find parked out front. Take her for a spin if you like.” He watched as Chris and the twins took off double-quick with Justin following them at a much more unhurried pace. Turning to face Dylan, and as if he'd been in attendance during Calder's discourse, Patrick declaimed hollowly, “Now don't you wish you'd taken me up on my offer to tell you about us.”

Chapter 12

Resentful and restless Dylan walked over to a disabused Carolina. Taking her hand in his, he motioned with a tilt of his head for Patrick to follow them. Moving purposefully through the sprawling, Southwestern styled mansion Dylan kept Carolina's hand clasped in his, needing the feel of her petal-soft skin. When she started to speak, he silenced her with a look of complete suffering, pulling her closer to his side, mulling over things that had happened since they'd met, having precious few minutes to reconcile himself to what he might have to do.

Stopping outside his hand carved wooden doors Dylan spoke to Patrick, “I'm not gonna ask about your prior relationship with Carolina. I want to know what's keeping you from marrying her now?” Pushing open the study doors, Dylan led them into the dusty yellow room with its central, floor-to-ceiling, stone fireplace and a wall of windows that allowed for spectacular views of green acreage dotted by flowers of lavender-blue, scarlet-red and silvery-white. Dylan got Carolina settled on one end of the U-shaped brown leather sectional while Patrick sat directly across from her and he positioned himself between them, on the oak coffee table, waiting for Patrick's response.

As tactful as he was willing to be, Patrick informed Dylan, “Clearly you're as blind as she is. I don't legally marry her because there's no need. We wed the day we met in a ceremony that can never be undone, not even death will separate us. She refuses to accept our union because it lacks the human stamp of approval.”

Unblinkingly Carolina looked at Patrick saying, “I was an eight year old child making promises I didn't understand. Tell Dylan the truth.”

Vehemently Patrick professed, “Dare not lecture me on truth. The reality is that we are wedded. A promise means everything and the vows we exchanged were made stronger because we waited to physically consummate our union until your eighteenth birthday. Ten years I waited to possess you but we bled each other many times prior and those repeat exchanges combined with numerous consumptions of pure essence are part of what forever binds us.”

Bluntly, Dylan stated, “Calder said you won't marry her because of the feelings you have for his father.”

Patrick waved the statement aside, “I didn't want to have a long confab with him about the complexities of my bond with Carolina, so I left him with a partial truth.”

She gave Patrick a dark look, “You shouldn't have told him anything. He's going to have a normal life. Do you know he lured Chris' daughter out into the night because you've filled his head with your fanciful stories?”

“What they did was harmless,” Patrick defended.

“He's asking for a betrothal, has researched North Carolina as a place to wed when he's fourteen. I want you to make him forget about marriage for several years.”

“I won't and he doesn't need to relocate to marry her, that's just the human part of him wanting to give his truelove what she desires, romance and tradition, like you’ve tirelessly worked at filling my every need.

“The human part of him? He is human. Your influence is confusing him. You have him believing you're communicating with the dead and heaven only knows what sense he's trying to make of hearing you slept with Ciaran and Clover,” she shouted.

Patrick remained calm, stating, “I can communicate with the departed because theoretically I'm one of them. As for Calder's coming to a conclusion about my relations with his birth parents, well he's always known, as does Callum. You'll eventually admit the truth to yourself, what you've seen for years but have denied.”

“They're your sons,” Dylan announced emphatically, seeing in Patrick qualities the twins possessed, especially the intensity of his gaze. He’d seen the same uncommon colors flash in the twins' eyes several times before and he wondered how Patrick and Carolina's brother could have had children together.

Reading Dylan's thoughts, Patrick commented, “The how is not important at this time but without question they are my children, the only offspring I've ever sired in my existence.”

Carolina felt as if someone had opened all of her major arteries, was having difficulty focusing her whirling vision, her body feeling cold and weighted down. Distressed, she stated weakly to Patrick, “I'm not listening to anymore of this lunacy. What you're suggesting is impossible.” Her essence tried opening her eyes to the reality but Carolina steadfastly refused to pay attention because the truth was unfair and unkind. Every time she'd looked at the twins she wouldn't be faced with the deception of her loved ones, accept that she'd been duped again. Feelings of fear, weakness and love made her look through him.

Patrick wouldn't be ignored, “I love Ciaran so you know my giving him and his wife my children is no more impossible than you possessing the ability to restore life. Don't sulk; being jealous and resentful of the departed is pathetic.”

“I will not hear what you say, will not let you punish me because I defied your will. You're coming here was a mistake. I want you to leave,” she insisted sullenly.

Patrick paid no attention, going on to needle her, “You preferred not to believe Gingernut. However, you've always known I've been in love with Ciaran. The twins were conceived the day after I became a man in your arms. Their birthday is exactly nine months and one day after yours. You've always denied their parentage because to accept who they are would make you question your very existence, fill you with hatred and self-loathing. Face the fact that there are things in life you were intended to have and others you were not. I was meant to be yours, but not completely as you've always wanted. The twins are your sons, just not children you birthed, as will be Justin because I can testify to your chastity. More telling to the utter impossibility of your being Justin's mother is the fact that if he were born of you he'd be dead now, because you've never held the ability to save your pure-blood kin, not your parents, nor Ciaran.” Patrick shifted his attention to Dylan, “Even in the womb she had a sense of her power but she didn't understand its limitations. Impossible as the occurrence was for the doctors to believe she was born breech holding her dead twin's hands, trying to enliven him.”

Carolina shot Patrick a pleading look before desperately telling Dylan, “Don't listen to him, he's drunk.” She knew what he was revealing wasn't her whole truth. Not even after all their years together did he truly know or understand who and what she was and even though he'd deceived her she didn't ever want the truth revealed to him or Dylan fearing their rejection.

“He sounds sober to me,” Dylan countered looking squarely at her. Giving his full attention back to Patrick, he signaled the other man to continue.

“Our first meeting was due to her literally stumbling upon my murdered human shell, a vulnerable child's form having suffered torments akin to Justin's But maybe I was drunk then instead of hovering, waiting to either be called home or sent to fill another vessel, right Carolina? Perhaps every orifice of my worldly form hadn't been ravaged, body beaten and broken until it no longer looked human? Is that your recollection because my memories are horrific?”

Remembering his physical state when she'd first stumbled upon him made her feel ashamed of her current state of anger and resentment. He'd been naked, filthy with dirt, dried blood and the secretions of the many men who'd used, then tossed him away. Finding Patrick, as a little boy, dead in the woods had made her heart instantly fill with love. She'd wanted to save and protect him. Sitting by his side, she'd brushed insects from his skin, removing her sweater and dress to cover him. Taking his hand in hers, she'd talked to him in Gaelic, Irish and English, promising everyone and everything she believed in, of this world and another, that if she could have him back she'd always care for him. Her wish had been granted. In a trembling voice she started, “I'm sorry.”

Patrick bit out, “Sorry, like Justin was for threatening to become emancipated? Oh, but I wasn't there, so how do I know that? Your unwillingness to be at least truthful with yourself is bothersome to me. You lie because you believe avoiding the truth keeps you safe. When you were a colleen, you were brave, full of heart and compassion, bringing me back to life, strengthening and making this vessel I inhabit nearly invincible. As a woman, you invest little when it's really important and now I wish you had left me dead because death would be preferable to seeing the shell you really are. I'm sick of your clawing. My heart has always belonged to Ciaran. I gave him the twins because of the feelings we share, a level of sacrifice and commitment you're not mature enough to understand. You allowed me to mate with you partly because I could never sexually know Ciaran, thinking to surpass his place in my heart with your maidenly charms, because you feared forever loosing me. You were frantic for all of me and knowing your own desperation and accepting what I am you should have realized I'd never let you birth my sons. Ciaran's wife, Clover, supported and loved all aspects of my relationship with her husband, was accepting of the long-term responsibilities the twins might have to assume because they are mine. She was the perfect vessel to carry and birth my children but you weren't and had Clover survived, outlived Ciaran I would have legally wed her, proudly acknowledged her as my wife and the mother of my children.”

Dylan saw Carolina visibly shaking, felt the intensity of her grief at not bearing Patrick's children, and her sorrow pulled him apart. On one hand, he was glad he'd give her what no other man had and on the other, he wanted her to have her heart's desire, the child of the man she so clearly loved that the force of her feeling shook even him to his core. With the selflessness of an enamored man, he wished she'd soon have what she wanted, a babe of her own to make her happy, fulfill her life and love her endlessly.

Shaking uncontrollably, Carolina was beside herself with suffering. Yes, she'd allowed him to use her but she never thought he'd so callously toss her love back in her face, crush her fragile heart to dust beneath his stomping feet. Tears stung paths down her cheeks. She hated and despised him for all the times she'd tricked herself into believing what they'd shared was special, beyond the physical, for stupidly being his whore and for the realization that if he'd ask, even given all that she now knew, she'd repeat exactly every thing she'd done without hesitation. Heart splintering, soul shattering, her world going black she whispered pathetically, “Go to Hell Patrick.”

“It's not like I haven't been there before,” reaching down he raised the left leg of his jeans to extricate a small caliber pistol from its ankle holster. Placing the muzzle to his right temple, he proclaimed to a shocked and lunging Dylan, “Now you'll truly see.” Patrick pulled the trigger before Dylan could knock the gun from his hand, his black-clad figure slumping over, with the tiny hole in his head leaking a rivulet of garnet-red.

“Heavenly Father please have mercy on him,” Dylan called out in alarm as he stood preparing to move for the phone.

****

Carolina caught Dylan's hand to stay him, her voice strong yet serene, “No. Just help me get him down on the floor.” She took hold of Patrick's feet while Dylan grabbed him under his arms and together they positioned him on his back in front of the fireplace. Even though she was dejected, she knew she'd rather be downbeat with Patrick than dying without him. At that moment she didn't care that he'd been mean to her or that he'd considered her pathetic and unworthy.

Kneeling by Patrick's lifeless form she assured Dylan, “I can heal him. I just need to know we'll be okay. I tried to tell you how he could be. He didn't mean any of that blather, only did this because he's furious about a decision I made earlier today, but I can't let him go, not forever. The longest he was ever like this was twenty-eight days, after my brother died, and I nearly killed myself getting him back.”

Pushing aside strands of hair that clung to her wet cheeks, Dylan wiped her face with a handkerchief he pulled from the back pocket of his jeans, “Why didn't you tell me you're in love with him?”

“Because my feelings aren't important. His heart belongs to my brother.”

He drank in her loveliness, asking, “Are you his wife Carolina?”

She truthfully explained, “In an elemental sense I am. He told me in the eyes of the universe I belong to him, but not by any human faith are we joined.”

In his life, Dylan had seen a lot, done a great deal more, but the Conways and Patrick were far beyond the experiences of slamming heroin or drinking whiskey like mountain-stream water. They were a different type of altered reality that reverberated deep within his being and he struggled to keep himself contained, to go on hidden within plain sight. But with the Conways and Patrick now in his life their presence was upsetting the balance of his existence, had Justin spouting off about a past-life allegiance to Carolina, one that made him reflect on his son's conception and wonder about the child Carolina was presently carrying. How long would he have with them before she realized what he truly was, that he wasn't what she'd wanted and she left with the baby, the twins and Justin for whatever it was she had with Patrick? There were many unanswered questions but the one certainty he had was that he couldn't live without her and for him that point decided everything. Dylan, leaning closer to her, kissed her lightly on the tip of her imp-like nose. “Go ahead and care for him honey.”

Carolina touched the cut she'd caused at Dylan's brow, stroked her fingers down to the faint bruise she'd caused at his cheek, wanting to believe she'd always see the light of caring shining in his amazing blue eyes. “Thank you,” she said before focusing her attention and energy wholeheartedly on healing Patrick. Leaning down to place her lips next to his ear, she whispered a simple, ethereal pledge, “I'll never let you go Patrick Camulus Donovan.”

Dylan, sitting beside her, watched as Carolina unbuttoned Patrick's shirt to place her left-palm in the center of the prone man's chest. He didn't have any expectation about what he'd witness, nor did he doubt her assertion that she'd save Patrick, Dylan just wanted the phenomenon to hurry to its conclusion so she'd stop touching the other man because even though Patrick appeared youthful of face and build, his open shirt revealed a sinewy chest that was perfectly ripped, pecs and abdominal muscles so precisely defined they appeared airbrushed. But, she’d be all too familiar with... Dylan's train of thought derailed. Still touching Patrick's chest, she also moved to straddle his hips, the chiffon of her skirt rustling, bunching up to reveal her pale skin and Dylan noticed the room becoming darker, the usual brightness of the early-evening sun no longer apparent through the windows and desiring her warmth Dylan ran his hand up beneath her skirt to rest against her heated flesh.

Carolina opened her mind, drawing in energy. She blocked her point of contact with Dylan not wanting to accidentally bind him to Patrick or vice versa and at the first stirring of electrified air around them she placed her lips over Patrick's, simply touching, waiting, until she felt the room's temperature rise. In Gaelic, she uttered aloud ancient and powerful words that would hasten his return. Then prayers were offered up in Irish. Finally, the English portion of the ritual she chose to deliver telepathically, avowing their union as a marriage, repenting for her jealousies and profanities, most of all begging forgiveness for her hatred of him, her brother and his wife.

Patrick's healing began, the brilliant light of his soul reuniting with its human capsule, liquefied silver oozing from his wound, the bullet-hole visibly shrinking into nonexistence. Carolina parted her lips releasing the energy she'd harnessed into his waiting form, feeling the stream of invigorating, electrified air flow from her into him, faint beams of white-light radiating from between their lips out into the room. She felt Dylan moving, his hand sliding further up her thigh, then between to feel the crotch of her panties, discovering the hot wetness soaking her. Then she felt him withdraw and rise from her side to walk away. Patrick's eyes opened, looking deep into hers and she saw the colors of the universe, of eternity, swirling in their depths, felt his breath filling her mouth as his hands gripped her head, his lips moving wistfully against her own.

For Patrick the passion came, searing and palpable, filling the room with the fragrances of summertime woods, wild strawberries, and the lush-green of Ireland. He could feel her inside him, her goodness, her beauty, her fiery warrior's strength and something mysterious infusing his blood changing him by increments as her power always did when she gave of herself to him. Releasing her head he slid his hands down to her waist, touching lightly the new swelling of her belly, the slight roundness that hadn't been there when he'd seen her in her undergarments hours before at the bridal salon. Clutching her face he drew her lips back to his and this time he gave to her, sending forth from his body a powerful beam of amber-light that made her dig her nails into his chest, her hair lifting around her, billowing about like suspended flames until he took his lips and hands from her and she sat shivering astride his hips.

Dylan stood in the hot, light filled room wondering if Carolina still knew he existed. When he'd touched her she'd given no sign that she'd felt his hand or any acknowledgment that he'd discovered she'd been sexually excited by the exchange with Patrick. Hell even he'd gone rock hard and aching at the passing of light and energy between them. Never in his life had he felt so connected, absolutely aroused, as he had when he'd seen Carolina give to Patrick. Now he was left with an almost unbearable hunger. She was more than he could have ever expected, all that he needed. With his hand still throbbing from her heated fluid that had dried leaving behind a softly perfumed, silvery, shimmering essence, Dylan silently approached them.

Carolina felt Dylan's strong calloused hands lifting her from Patrick's body. When her feet touched the floor, she was looking into his face, seeing the unexpected: acceptance and desire. Never taking his eyes from hers, she saw him extend a hand to Patrick to assist him to his feet.

Hearing the other man clearing his throat Dylan tore his gaze from hers to give Patrick the once over, his index finger touching the silvery-smudge where the bullet hole should have been and received an electrical jolt jarring deep into his arm. Shrugging off the somewhat pleasant sensation Dylan gave Patrick a friendly smile. “You've proven your point, albeit excessively, now bug off and don't ever pull another stunt like that in my house or I'll lock Carolina up where she can't get to you.”

Leisurely buttoning his shirt Patrick looked from Carolina to Dylan, “I'll be on my best behavior unless someone gives me a reason not to be.” Gently pushing Carolina aside Patrick stood before Dylan asserting, “Now we're brothers, which entitles you to all I possess. I trust you to raise my sons, and the sons of my heart's desire. You will marry and love Gingernut, like I never could and your babes will be as my own.” Patrick opened his arms to Dylan with a wide, dimpled smile, “Now embrace me little brother so I can be on my way. I have your engagement party to see to.”

Dylan moved closer to the smaller man with great reservation and nearly jumped out of his skin when instead of receiving a brotherly hug he felt Patrick's hands grip his face with unbelievable strength to pull his lips down to barely touch his own, sending a flow of warm herbal-scented air into his mouth. The sensation blazed a path from Dylan's lips down to his toes and everything faded away, his soul leaving his body to float above, looking down on the room and Carolina's shocked face.

Dylan could hear his mother calling to him and he looked up to the direction of her voice. The ceiling vanished and above the room, far beyond the blue sky he saw his beloved mama adorned in a pink cotton shift, her arms outstretched to him. His Pa forever in indigo jeans and white work-shirt was further in the distance, a slight smile turning up the corners of his mouth. Respectfully he inclined his head toward his father before he floated into his mother's embrace, her head resting against his heart, his arms closing around her as he placed a kiss atop her resplendent blond hair and for several seconds they held each other before she drifted back to his father, her voice softly saying, “Don't let her go.” Dylan called out, begging his parents to stay but he could see them no longer, felt himself drifting down, settling into his skin and Patrick slowly released him to stagger back on his heels, staring speechlessly.

Awestricken, Dylan watched and listened as Patrick turned and gave Carolina a tender peck on the cheek before saying, “I didn't mean the horrible things I said Gingernut.” Then he saw the man kneel before her to place a kiss on her stomach and his mind finally registered that she'd been transformed, appearing irresistibly voluptuous. Dylan saw her stroke dark hair from Patrick's brow before he rose to stroll leisurely from the room and to Dylan's eyes, Carolina looked ready to bolt out after him.

Chapter 13

She saw her peculiar reflection in Dylan's eyes and lifted a hand to smooth her unruly hair. Running her palms over the creases in her shirt, she knew she was a fright. The heat of embarrassment rose in her cheeks. She was as plump as a Thanksgiving turkey, feeling the now too tight shirt wanting to give at the buttons and seams.

With her lower lip, trembling and her eyes fixed on his she addressed him, “What you just witnessed with Patrick, the return, is always like this, sexual and intense. With Justin, the process was chaste and pure. I swear, what happened with him was nothing like what you just saw. If I hadn't given of myself, Justin would have died, but I only partially healed him fearing his bond with me would grow too strong, would jeopardize his relationship with you.” Recalling Justin’s behavior earlier, she knew her decision had been wise.

With her hand trembling in his Dylan led Carolina to the sectional where he pulled her down to sit across his lap. Gazing into eyes of spellbinding green, cream and black he stroked her hair, “You only have a mother's love for Justin. I've always known the truth. As I knew from the beginning, you and Patrick were, are, more than best friends. After what I've been allowed to witness I accept why your love for him is so strong, why you’ll always feel sexually attracted to him.”

Lightly she touched the red scar on his forehead and watched in surprise as the cut disappeared. More than her outward appearance had undergone a change because in this life she'd never been able to heal with a simple touch. Caressing his cheek she assured him, “I'd never be unfaithful and Patrick will never seek me out sexually now that he's sworn himself to you.”

Dylan experienced an invigorating tingle where her fingers had touched his brow. If she'd slept with Patrick today, he'd have forgiven her. What the two of them would have shared had to be beyond anything he could ever hope to experience, wishes fulfilled as Patrick had given him in the chance to see his mother again. He searched her eyes, continued touching her radiant red hair, “Calder said your ex wasn't of your kind. Can you tell me what Patrick is? What you all are?”

With shy fingers, she traced the faint blue-bruise at his jaw watching happily as the discoloration faded into nonexistence. “Once he told me he's a manifestation of cosmic energy, a child of the elements, one who'll never know human death.”

His eyes widened, “Is Patrick immortal?”

“Maybe. He claims to be older than the Earth. I know he's separated from the body he inhabits now only three times, when he was twelve, the first time I brought him back, then six years ago after my brother died and today. Ask him and he might explain. To me he's always just been human, extraordinary, but human.”

Capturing the wrist of her hand that touched his face, he held her smooth skin against him, enjoying the curative warmth, felt himself growing more rigid beneath her filled out bottom. “And honey, are you just human?”

Shifting her hips self-consciously, she replied timidly, “Yes.”

Allowing his eyes to travel over her blossomed figure with undisguised yearning, he gave her a wolfish grin. “Are ya sure pumpkin?”

Carolina folded her hands demurely in her lap, taking shallow breaths so the buttons on her shirt wouldn't pop and go pinging across the room. “Of course. Why?”

He held up his hand to reveal the glittering, “This happened when I touched between your thighs and you're fuller than before. Don't you feel the difference?”

She felt them alright. Awkwardly she adjusted her shirt, saying embarrassedly, “After the exchange Patrick likes me a bit more pillowy. However the glittering is new.”

He stilled her hand. “I wasn't complaining. How long will you stay like this?” Dylan cupped the heavy weight of her breasts, giving them a slight jiggle, “You're always so beautiful. Even when you were on top of Patrick I wanted to get inside you.”

Heat filled her face. Gripping his wrists, she shyly urged his hands away from her engorged breasts that were an overflowing cup size larger. “For a few days or until you make love to me.”

What a tough decision he thought, he could have her pleasing his eyes, all swollen and ripe, for days if he could withstand the torture, or he could ease the fire raging in his blood by enjoying her bounty until he was as weak as watered-down homebrew. Decisions. Decisions. “Will you let me look at you?”

Carolina wished she could willfully shrink herself back to her normal size and with complete mortification felt a shirt button go sailing. She tried refocusing him, “We should finish talking about the things that happened in here and with the boys.”

Through the new peephole in her shirt, he could see a silver bow at the center of her bra and soft pillows of pale flesh, beckoning him from over the tight lace. Fervently he assured her, “I'm finished.” Inserting a finger into the shirt's opening he sought out the deep glen of her cleavage, stroking along the divide, asking in a husky southern twang, “Can I play with 'em?”

She didn't want him to because she didn't know what would happen. Stalling and easing away from his wandering hand she asked, “Why aren't you bothered by all this?”

Hooking his finger in the front of her bra, he halted her retreat. “Because I love you. Not in a sweet-and-flowery way as Justin thinks I should, but the way I've long needed to love a woman, deeply, fiercely, and nothing is going to change that. But honey, I would’ve let you go if Patrick had told me he’d legally wed you. I'm grateful he didn't cause I would've died. Now I have more reasons to treasure you, more causes to work at earning your devotion, the same degree of ardency you bestow upon him,” he professed drawing her near.

Panicking, she issued breathlessly, “There are things you don't know.”

Running his free hand up her rounded thigh, he seductively squeezed the supple skin, his voice edged with steel as he informed and commanded, “And there are things you don't know about me. One is I love a ripe figure on a woman and honey you're ready for harvest. Now take off your top and let me see.” Dylan watched as she removed her shirt, her breasts straining against the peach lace, her skin pearlescently gleaming. Excitedly drawing in his breath he ordered, “Now the skirt.”

Grasping the long crinkled fabric, she bunched it up to mid-thigh and set to gently wriggling her buttocks against him in order to extricate the skirt from between their bodies, lifting the chiffon fabric over her head she tossed it aside. Without being told, she unfastened her bra and let the lace fall away. Studying the stones of the fireplace, she sat waiting. When a couple of minutes had passed and they still sat as they were, she looked at him and immediately wanted to take flight. Lustful, near-black eyes with flashes of white at their center fixed her to the spot. His face was hard and immobile except for a clenching muscle at his jaw. She grew alarmed, and in a small, quavering voice finally told him what he needed to hear, “Dylan, I love you.”

The sight of her full, shapely curves with nothing but a triangle of lace keeping him from being inside her was pushing his buttons something fierce. “Do you only look like this after you've been with Patrick?”

“Yes,” she answered, starting to rise from his lap, wanting to quickly dress and escape, hide out until her normal shape returned.

Grabbing her forearm, he kept her captive. Lowering his mouth to one of her breasts, he drew the erect nipple in, then swirled his tongue in strong circles, bathing the pink protruding flesh, his free hand snapping the line of peach lace at each hip before pulling the ruined panties from between her thighs. Sucking strongly on her teat, he was treated to a burst of sweet cream flavor and he groaned deeply before taking another large drink. Hearing her passionate sighs, he teased the curls covering her mound. Switching breasts, he flicked her other nipple back and forth with his tongue until beads of her mouth-watering beverage squirted into his mouth. Sitting back, he kneaded her voluptuous orbs, mesmerized by milky opalescent droplets of nectar seeping forth. Greedily he caught them in his mouth, sucked them thirstily from her skin. Feeling buzzed he leeringly smiled, “Is this standard or does Patrick have to nearly die?”

“Regeneration times only,” she lied, dreading his jealousy.

He kneaded her breasts, “That's too bad I was going to put him on speed dial.”

“What's wrong with the way I normally am?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he assured, removing his shirt and tossing the denim aside.

Now he was the one telling fibs and she felt upset that he hadn't liked her as she'd been. “I want to get dressed,” she moaned anxiously.

Shaking his head he ordered, “Undo my belt.” He wanted her hands teasing him.

“No. I don't want to.” Normally he was massive and now the outline of his erection beneath the heavy denim felt longer and thicker than before.

Her resistance heightened his desire. “Didn't you say you'd never tell me no?”

She felt his erection throbbing, engorging more and she gulped. “Yes I did but-”

“But what?”

“I'm afraid after you've had me like this you won't want me the other way.”

He pulled her hair, made her look at him. “I won't ask again.”

****

Reaching between them she quickly relieved him of his belt, placing the imposing silver and leather beside them, before unfastening his jeans. In an effort to calm him, she arranged her hair to drape over her offending breasts. “Dylan-”

He stopped her from talking by mating his tongue with hers, sucking and biting, then nipping her lower lip until she twined her fingers in his thick hair. She felt his lips along the line of her jaw, down the curve of her throat, returning to her breast to drink thirstily, each draw causing wetness to pool between her thighs. Releasing his hair she told him, “I want you in my mouth, need to taste you.”

Dylan sat back looking at her intently, “Not this time. I want you on your back so I can get deep inside you. But you’ll still get your taste of me honey. Understand?”

She shuddered, wanted him to be gentle. “Did you hear me say I love you?”

“I heard you.” There was something beyond her outward changes that called to him and made him itchy. He looked deep into her eyes, “What aren't you telling me?”

“Nothing.” She lowered her gaze, felt her cheeks burning.

“Good.” He eased her back onto the cushions, quickly rising to shed his clothes. Returning to her he started at her toes, kissing his way up her legs, teasing her skin with his mouth and fingers until he buried his face between her thighs, tickling her tender region with his tongue, licking, swirling, then stabbing until her thighs quivered around him, setting off a wild need to feel her whole body trembling. Moving on, his lips found hers and he whispered, “Breathe into my mouth like you did for Patrick.”

She stroked the strong line of his jaw, “Alright treacle bear, lay fully on top of me.” When he lowered his body to hers, she took his face in her hands, easing her legs apart so he could settle between her thighs. Concentrating for a few seconds, she drew in a small amount of energy before touching her lips to his; then she blew gently into his mouth.

Dylan coughed and experienced an unbearable tightness in his chest before he felt his heart stop. He struggled weakly to get free only to have her wrap her legs around his hips to hold him more securely and then he felt her warmth entering him, could see the light passing from her mouth to his. His heart resumed its rhythm, his desire for her increasing to an unearthly level and he feverishly reached between their bodies to position his throbbing penis against her wet opening, readying himself to enter. He tried to get free of her hold to lower his mouth to her breasts but she desperately clung to him and the touching of her lips to his morphed into an amorous exchange, then she set him free. Her hands caressed his shoulders and back, her hips lifting, calling him to duty. He supported the weight of his torso above her to look down onto her beautiful face and eased his tip into her demanding, “Tell me now Carolina.”

Placing her hands on his hips, she met his gaze saying softly, “God, I love you.”

Dylan surged forcefully into her, felt great resistance, and heard her cry out, as her hands tried frantically to push him away. He stopped moving, had every intention of getting off her when he felt the all too familiar drumming in his ears, the burning in his loins, the storm raging throughout his soul that had colored his entire relationship with Liz and knew they were both screwed. Gripping her full hips he pulled out, heard her sigh of relief before he slammed himself all the way back in and this time she screamed. The sound was gas thrown on a wildfire. He humped her viciously, biting her shoulder before licking his way down to her breast where hungrily he latched on sucking greedily while she shuddered and whimpered beneath him. She was painfully tight around his swollen flesh, plunging in he felt her yielding just a little, on drawing out her flesh clung with desperation, squeezing, exciting him as he flicked her nipple with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth and the next time he withdrew from her hot sheath he slurped from her tit, tasting ambrosia, then clamped her nipple between his teeth, biting down, pulling and tugging before drinking again.

Her ongoing low sobs made him come up for air. He looked down at her while his hips resumed slamming aggressively against her, her flaming hair fanned out around her head, her face turned away from his, but he could see she was biting her lower lip. Possessively he told her, “I'll be understanding about Patrick, but if you ever give me serious reason to think you've lain with another man he’ll not live to see the next sunrise.” He pumped harder into her at the thought of her body opening for someone else. When he saw gem-bright tears streaming down her face he smiled in ownership before licking them away. “You're mine Carolina.”

Yes, she was truly his, felt his possession enormously inside, the power of his thrusts agonizing and terrifyingly decadent, her discomfort a prelude to the ecstasy his strength promised. In a demurely gasping voice she said, “Please, you're hurting me.”

Dylan stilled his movements inside her hot clenching body. Gripping her chin, he turned her face back so his eyes could look deep into her soul. He spoke in a low, thundering voice, “Tell me again and make me believe I've caused you pain.”

His words started her trembling, his handsome face nearly stealing reason from her mind. Timidly she confessed, “You're too big. It feels like you're ripping me apart.” Looking into his eyes, she touched where his body joined hers. “I'm not like before. Only my mind has memories of sexual fulfillment.”

Dylan lunged forward and heard her gasp, saw the wince intensify her beauty. He pulled out slowly, felt her trembling fingers along his retreating length before he settled the weight of his muscled chest back down on her full breasts. His lips sought hers for a long kiss, his hands caressing the womanly swell of her hips as he waited...

She could smell his intentions, sweltering, dominant male musk, overpowering her senses. Dragging her lips from his, Carolina pushed at his chest, his hair brushing her cheek before she felt his lips kissing along the side of her neck. Beating at his shoulders she fought him, tried bucking him off until she felt the slide of leather over her shoulder, down her side, the enforcing silver buckle touching her hip. “Please,” she whimpered trying to grab the leather, doubling her efforts to get away.

Easily he conquered her battling hands, strapping together her wrists with the leather and silver before draping her bound arms over his head to rest high on his shoulders. Breathing heavily he demanded, “How much longer?”

Denied the use of her hands she tried shifting her hips to dislodge his weight only to feel the pain of his nails digging into her hips, the warm trickle of blood his vice-like grip caused and finally ceased her struggles saying, “It's done.”

Dylan kissed her, thrusting his tongue far into her mouth just as his hips assaulted her again. He plucked her regenerating cherry, tearing into her like a stallion, ramming her mystical maiden passage relentlessly, swallowing her cries as he loved her hard and deep. At first, he felt her hips pulling away, trying to escape the pain before she joined in the dance, rocking against him with precise rhythm, swaying and rotating, whipping his passion into stiffer peaks. Feeling her bound arms surrounding his neck, her strong heart pounding against his chest, her receptive body giving its loving testimony that she'd known no other and Dylan groaned his glorious torment. Taking his mouth from hers, he declared as he continued his long hard strokes, “Woman I loved you before so this I cannot name, a combination of the greatest pure emotion and unparalleled raw, ominous sexual need. That they coexist seems terribly wrong but I don't want the feelings to end. There has to be a high price to pay for this much pleasure, so many dreams fulfilled and I will give anything to keep you like this with me.”

Meekly she stated, “Dylan, I don't want to stay like this forever.”

He kept thrusting hard. She felt so good he never wanted to stop. “Why not?”

“I feel weighted down so if you wish for me like this, then I'll be stuck with these huge breasts and I don't think I'd be happy with them.”

He lost the rhythm of his stroke. Rearing up he looked into her eyes, feeling her bound hands behind his head and knew she'd be the death of him. “You told me you'd only be like this until I made love to you.”

“I didn't tell the truth. Patrick could have kept me like this if he wanted. Now that the two of you are bound you have similar carte blanche,” she confessed and with him distracted by her revelation, Carolina brought their intense lovemaking to culmination. Locking her legs around his waist, she rocked her hips seductively back and forth before tensing her inner muscles so rapidly and tightly she made him come with a loud shout, his release, this joining, a river of warm, pure essence inside her that mixed with her own, changing her, making her more of what he secretly desired and needed.

Dylan felt the climax draining him as if a hose was inserted into his penis sapping the life from him. His hearing went first, then his sight followed and when he collapsed on top of her he experienced her like never before. Her skin tingled beneath his and when he blindly reached for her, he felt as though he were touching a live wire, her fragrance intensifying. His lips moved along her face until they found hers to taste the intensity of sugared roses, and he didn't care that he was blind and deaf.

Still bound to him Carolina entered his thoughts, “Shape me into the woman you'll be joined with for all eternity. Give me the voice that will pleasure you nightly. See and hear me, knowing I will accept your needs and desires with the faith and loyalty of your true love, your perpetual consort.” There was no need to draw in energy this time to induce the changes; the essence he'd given up had her supercharged. She blew shimmering air and light into his mouth until her lungs ached.

In his head Dylan heard her thoughts, having just enough time to process them and summon up his ideal images of her, the Carolina he remembered from their first meeting, before he felt her warm sugary breath in his mouth, throughout his body, tightness assaulting his chest and stopping his heart again. He felt himself sinking down into aqua-blue and beyond to pitch-black before he plunged into the brilliant colors of fire, felt her lips separating from his and his heart resumed beating. He was afraid to open his eyes, because during his descent he'd lost his thoughts of her.

Chapter 14

“Treacle bear, open your eyes.” More so than before Carolina's voice lilted, embracing the magic and power of her homeland.

Dylan heard her, listening with a born musician's ear to the few words she spoke, and determined the changes he'd caused to her voice to be marginal. Now there was a subtle dash of pepper to the undertone of her speech, which was snugly wrapped in the scratchy comfort of Irish wool. Just hearing her, had him wanting to shove his penis in her mouth, force her to swallow him, where he'd be at the mercy of her clenching fire and warmth, surrounded by the ever-present danger of her hard, sharp teeth.

Feeling thrilled already by the changes she'd underwent he was anxious to see what she now looked like. He didn't think her physical appearance would be altered since he hadn't imagined her differently. Lifting his lashes, his jaw dropped and blood raced to the south-central region of his body. Reaching behind his neck, he unbound her wrists so he could stand. Drawing Carolina to her feet, he visually feasted on her.

She was radiant, glowing as he'd recalled first seeing her with Justin at the shopping center. Her figure resembled the lines and curves of his favorite acoustic guitar, her breasts even fuller than they'd been moments earlier and although he hadn't wished for them to be, they pleased him, doggone did they please him. He drawled happily, “Honey, this just keeps gettin' better.” Taking her hand, he walked her over to the closet and flung open the door so she could see for herself.

Looking in the full-length mirror, Carolina smiled, touching her fingers to the reflection, “That you see me like this is wonderful; soft and incandescent is how I feel after you've made love to me.” Flexing her sternum caused the heavy weight of her breasts to bounce. She poked at them as if trying to deflate two large balloons and laughed. “The bosom will take some getting use to, Dylan Zeus Zachariah Savage; I look like a triple-X porn star. We're gonna have a hard time explaining them.”

He tried to look contrite but he couldn't stop grinning like a punch-drunk fool and the fact that she'd called him by his given name that only his parents knew thrilled him even more. “Honestly, they weren't my idea but we don't have to tell anybody anything. By the way, how do you know my given name?”

“I heard it stirring in the air and I think it suits you, rippling and lordly. But no more questions, I need to hurry and take from you or this change will fade.” Turning him sideways before the mirror, Carolina sank to her knees and lifted his resting manhood in her hands, his musky scent beguiling her. She ran her nails along his skin, gently licking him with the concentration of a grooming feline until he was rock hard. The muscles of his thighs spasmed, hips arching forward, his breathing heavy and labored. “Look in the mirror,” she instructed bewitchingly.

He stared at them, watched as her lips surrounded him, saw her mouth stretching wide to fit him in before her head started moving back and forth, slow and steady as she sucked and laved his rod, her hands busily massaging and kneading his sack. He felt his length touch the back of her throat before she slid him out to the tip, back-and-forth, up-and-down, on-and-on she pleasured him, steadily increasing the speed of her motions and the intensity of each pull until she finally took him all the way down her throat, her lips kissing the junction where his penis and body met. Dylan felt her throat gripping, clenching, consuming him and in a spasm of ecstasy, he held her head to his body, grinding against her face to shoot ejaculate deep into her willing gorge. He felt her give his sack several pleasurable squeezes, his output increasing, the jerking of his body so forceful he knew for sure he hurt her but he couldn't stop and neither did she. Instead, she gripped his buttocks, kept them locked together as she drank every ounce of his essence, draining him dry, and still she continued sucking and pulling, until he begged for mercy, only then did she set him free to collapse weakly to the floor. He watched as she licked her lips while stroking her hands along the sides of her neck and he could hear his own voice telling her repeatedly how much he treasured her, how never in his life had a woman ever pleased him in so many ways.

He watched as she crawled with leonine grace over to him, her new breasts swaying, her flaming hair radiant around her glowing face. She slunk over and up his body leaving kisses in her wake before touching her open lips to his with the passion of a woman who was ready for another trip to Dylantown but he had no gas left in his tank. Ending the kiss with a gentle swat to her rump he professed somewhat sadly for a Texas man, “You've tuckered me out.” Stroking her soft red hair, he looked into eyes of Connemara marble green, “Tell me the truth gal, what are ya?”

“A woman who's gonna make you very happy. Now I've got to scoot. I'm so hungry I could eat the south end of a northbound skunk. My tummy wants baked salmon in ginger sauce, spinach salad with hazelnuts, persimmon cake and pomegranate juice.”

“That sounds good but I'm too sore to move. You go ahead while I rest. Just throw me my boxers.” Dylan lay back, watching through half-lowered lashes as she dressed in his shirt and her skirt before returning to help him ease into his shorts.

Folding his jeans Carolina placed them on the sofa before returning to kiss his brow. “I'm sorry treacle bear. Let's get you over to the sofa so you'll be comfortable.” Helping him to his feet, she felt pained as he grimaced while doing a bowlegged shuffle to the sofa, where groaning he fell backward onto the thick cushions.

Wincing he closed his eyes tightly, “Gosh almighty, my privates feel like they're about to fall off. Aren't you sore?”

Smiling she knelt beside the sofa. “Yes I am, but that's why you were thrusting so hard. You wanted me to keep feeling you long after, and I do. I can't wait 'til you take me again later. If Patrick hasn't started setting up for the party, I'll suggest a simple dinner instead. Then we'll spend time with the boys and later, after everyone is asleep, you and I can sneak out to the stables. I know you held back earlier but you shouldn't have. I want to be your everything, not just a wife.”

Opening his eyes Dylan gave her a serious look, “There will be no foolin' around in the stables 'cause we have to set a good example for the kids and what you're suggesting is completely off limits because you're pregnant.”

Carolina gave a little pout, worrying about him sneaking off to some big-busted, pink leather-clad she-minx. “But if I weren't pregnant would you take me out there?”

“It's a moot point at least for the next eight months and we won't be doing anything later cause I can barely walk.”

She silently prayed her babe would hurry and come so she could satisfy Dylan in all the ways he needed, keep him out of the clutches of the numerous women she suspected would do anything to have him for themselves. Carolina gently petted the front of his boxers, “My kiss might make you feel better.”

Dylan shooed her hand away, placing a throw pillow over tender Johnson and the two suffering Jacobs, “Can you really or are you just trying to get your hands on me?”

“I'll try,. She removed the pillow from his resisting fingers to place a chaste kiss on his skin through the opening of his boxers before agilely jumping to her feet. Looking down at him she grinned, “How's that feel?”

Dylan sighed, his eyes rolling back, lids fluttering, feeling as though he were sinking down into warm marshmallow crème, loosing time in euphoria, thick honey butter flowing slowly through his veins, “Gosh you're good,” he exclaimed worshipfully.

Carolina was hurriedly backing her way to the door, “Great so I've done right by you. Now I've got to get cleaned up before I raid the kitchen. See ya later treacle bear.”

He watched her turn and dash from the room. A long time later, he lazily got to his feet and dressed. As he stepped into the hallway, intent on finding Carolina, he heard his mother's voice once more say, “Don't let her go.”

****

The next morning Carolina, with crushed granite beneath her white sneakers, withstood the scrutiny of Chris and Vega as she waited for Patrick to back his car from the garage so Dylan could drive her SUV out to her. The couple standing against the backdrop of the sun shower yellow mansion looked weary and more than a little concerned. Their faces mirrored the gloom of the unnervingly quiet and overcast day.

Looking up at a huge neighboring tree Carolina wondered where all the swallows, jays and doves were, usually the morning was filled with their song but today she heard not a single note. Allowing her purse and gym bag to slide from her fingers to the ground, she walked over to the huge tree running her hand along the roughly textured bark, feeling a slight breeze ruffle her knee-length denim skirt. The tree's energy was weak. Moving closer she encircled as much of the trunk as she could, since an overnight illness and a serious bit of gluttony had left her belly puffed up like a soufflé, to lay her forehead against the whispering wood, giving the tree a curative to restore its health so the birds would come home.

Hearing the hum of Patrick's car as he slowly backed from the garage, Carolina released the tree. Turning, she snagged her white sweater on the bark, tearing a small hole in the knit over her left breast before she was free to walk back to the garage and wait for the appearance of Dylan in her vehicle. Bending with difficulty to pickup her bags she managed to do so just as Patrick appeared reaching out hands of assistance. Righting her posture, she smiled at him. “Wipe that worried look off your face. I'm fine.”

“You're not well Gingernut. Allow me to come with you.” He fought the urge to touch and caress her stomach, which appeared painfully distended.

She shook her head firmly. “Dylan's not tagging along and neither are you.”

“You've been awake all night, hyper to the point of mania, alternating between gluttony and bouts of vomiting. Now your stomach is so swollen you can hardly bend over. You should have gone to hospital last night. But if you don't want me or that hick you're marrying to go with you, at least allow Vega to drive.”

“You're acting like a mother hen. I'm suffering from a bad bout of nerves. Now give me a very petite kiss goodbye because Dylan's looking and I don't want the two of you arguing today like you were last night.”

At the mention of his rival, he scowled. “I don't care if he's looking,” Patrick declared dangerously, before taking her mouth in a sensual kiss of great animation. He trailed his lips across her delicate jawbone, moving down the line of her neck to the strong pulse at her throat, where he sighed heatedly, “I was your first and you were mine. He's altered you without any consideration for my feelings and to think I swore myself to that moke.” Now every time he looked at her he wanted to bed her.

Taking his face in her hands, she looked into his dark eyes, letting him see she'd always love him. “Patrick please calm yourself. Think about the boys or consider he's Chris' brother. You like him and Vega so at least try to tolerate Dylan.”

“I had immensely, enjoyable carnal relations with Vega. Chris has a brilliant mind, can spin a good yarn and match me drink for drink, but those things have no bearing on how I view that idiot you're marrying. And I want you to put my medallion back on. Don't think I didn't notice it hanging on your rear-view mirror. To hell with him if he's so insecure.” The feel of her in his arms was making him loony. Even though he'd shared a few hours of pleasure with Vega throughout the night, he now wanted Carolina like he never had before. Without regard for anyone watching, he boldly sniffed her scent, growling lustily. With her belly pushing against him, immediately his orgasm threatened and he quickly released her. Never in all his travels through space and time, had he experienced such a startling lack of control.

“I'll put the medallion back on but please no fighting or bickering. You're a visitor here. Maybe you should go back to my house if you're not going to be civil.”

“Maybe I will,” he said peevishly before turning to stride angrily into the house, giving a mighty huff as he stormed past Chris and Vega, heading for an ice cold shower.

The couple glanced after Patrick before looking back in Carolina's direction, and were in the process of waving farewell when Justin, Calder and Callum rushed around them, causing the couple to sway on their feet. The boys' whirlwind locomotion halted when they spied Dylan standing by her vehicle and they proceeded to where she stood at a much more dignified pace chorusing, “Hurry back home mom.”

“I will.” She embraced them one at a time, before they sprinted back to the house to tiptoe around Chris' glowering form. Carolina grinned broadly at the blond giant, waving to him and his beautiful wife, before they too reentered the house, leaving only Dylan and herself to say their goodbyes.

She slowly walked to him, handing her bags over so he could place them on the front passenger seat. When he turned back, she saw his exhaustion, bleary eyes with dark circles underneath and deep furrows across his brow. “Get some rest. I'm fine.”

“No you're not. When you weren't eating like a starved linebacker, you were heaving hard, which I believe was caused by your eating four huge jars of honey and just as many bottles of chili sauce, on top of everything else you got your hands on. Then you couldn't settle down, not even Chris' boring oceanic stories put you to sleep.” He closed his eyes breathing in her scent, parched Texas earth at the start of a downpour and felt the stirrings of passion.

“I was overly excited and the party revved me up more.”

“That makes sense with the boys performing for you, then the fireworks display. I have to commend that little twerp Patrick. He threw one heck of a shindig.” Despite his need to be demonstratively reserved when children could hop out at any moment, he wanted to pull Carolina into the SUV and ride her until they flattened the tires.

“The party was wonderful and the kids where fabulous but combined with all that happened earlier in the day I was pushed beyond my limits. Then the bickering between you and Patrick started worrying me and still does.” Tentatively she touched his muscled forearm with her fingers, his warmth soothing her.

“He's an insufferable horse's pa-toot. If he wanted to marry you he had years to get you down the aisle, now he's lost his chance and he's all lathered up.” He trapped her fingers against his arm, his thumb caressing the fragile bones of her hand.

“Don't forget, I am bound to him. I need you to respect that and his parentage of the twins.” She was growing breathless from his touch, her nipples hardening.

“I'll try. But if he's not going to play along then I'm not going to waste my time.” What he really wanted to do was slide his lance in-and-out of her tight wet sheath.

She hugged him, her stomach poking against his muscular body, “Thanks for saying you'll try and as a show of good spirit allow me to wear his medallion.”

Holding her close he stroked his hands down her back to the roundness of her bottom to give the shapely curves a firm squeeze, “Nope.” His hand eased up the back of her skirt, to rest against her thigh.

“Now treacle bear don't be like that. He swore himself to you, claiming you as his brother, something he didn't even do for Ciaran. He also defended Justin's honor.”

“Shucks honey, I give him credit for all that. I wouldn't be havin' a problem 'bout the medallion if he hadn't tried stealing you from me last night,” he drawled, gently pinching her tender flesh.

She gave a startled yip, rubbing the back of her thigh. “What do you mean?'

“When I sang to you for the first time I wanted to create a memory we'd treasure. But, that elf couldn't let me have my moment. He kept making stupid remarks whilst rolling his eyes and if that weren't enough he then starts crooning to you in a fashion meant to make you think twice. I sang one song. He put on a dang show. 'Raglan Road' and 'Into The Mystic' I could understand with y'all being from the Emerald Isle, but when he started in on 'Adore' with as much sensual style as its original Minneapolis composer and performer, I wanted to snap Patrick's scrawny neck like a dry twig. That's a song for getting a woman wet and willin'. In my head, I could see him making love to you far more erotically than I have. He was rubbing my nose in the stated fact that he's the best lover you've ever had. If my brothers' wives hadn't gone gaga over him, he'd still be singing and I'd still be subject to an unwanted, private porno. Then to really set fire to my boots he goes off to play with my brothers' wives.” He ran the tips of his fingers down her breasts to rest his thumbs on her nipples.

“Only with Vega, Chris didn't mind,” she assured him, arching into his hands.

“She's my brother's wife,” he emphasized, rubbing and teasing her breasts.

“The arrangement is between Chris, Vega and Patrick.” She strained against him, her breasts excitedly leaking, wetting her blouse.

He eased her skirt higher to touch her bare bottom and his erection jumped eagerly, straining to be free. “What if she falls in love with him?”

“Vega enjoyed his company. But, she belongs with Chris. She'd never leave him and their children.” She wriggled, trying to direct his searching hand.

“Patrick is using them to get at me,” Dylan accused temperamentally, holding her steady as his lower body fitted against her, but he wanted more.

“That's not so. He feels enjoyment and pleasure with them. He's not a roaming tomcat looking to mount anything that's giving off a scent. The way he is with Chris and Vega is how he was with my brother and Clover,” she collectedly reassured as her fingers found the end of his belt, working determinedly to get inside and touch him. Then with her hands, lips and tongue she'd put a stop to his worrying.

“I should introduce him to Liz, see if he can find any enjoyment with her,” he threatened in a harassed mutter under his breath, holding her palm flat against the swollen ridge in his jeans.

“That would be unwise since he blames her for causing me such misery.” Focusing heat into her palm that lay against his erection, she saw his eyes widen in pleasure and she eased up the temperature. Sweat beaded his brow and a sexy rumble came from deep within his chest as the heat took hold of him.

He closed his eyes, rocking his hips into her heated touch feeling the fire and the ecstasy. Just short of panting he asked, “And what all does he blame me for?”

“He's upset that you changed me and that I'm not exclusively his anymore. Soon he'll settle back into his old reserved self.” She heard his excited love sounds rolling around the confines of his chest as he struggled to remain silent. Tightly squeezing his bulging manhood, she pleaded seductively, “Oh treacle bear roar for me just a little bit.”

His rumble was sonorous, shaking the ground, but not from pleasure. He feared Patrick's wanting her and his dread dampened his ardor. “I don't feel better knowing any of that. I suspect he's plannin' to make his hold on you legal. You were in love with him from the moment you met, didn't deny what you felt. He didn't need to sing to you, didn't have to do anything to make you think he's a god. But me, you told there's no such thing as love at first sight and I've had to beg, plead, and threaten to get you to say the words. I need to know if he ever asks you to legally wed him you'll say no?”

She was disappointed. She'd hoped to give him total pleasure before she left and now his worries had softened his steel. Taking his strong, glorious face in her hands she looked squarely into his eyes declaring, “I will never leave and if you want you can sing for me now. I know the song you chose was special, echoing what you said about my hair our first night together, 'to catch a flame.' I've never forgotten.” What she really wanted was for him to take her right there behind the open door of the SUV. She was positive only a few woodland creatures were about and they wouldn't care.

Extricating his face from her hold, he complained wretchedly, “You'll always love him more than me. Justin and Calder both said so.”

“I'll cherish the two of you differently. Hop up in the driver's seat and I'll show you how much I love you,” she reached for his belt again but he shied away from her.

With the index finger of his left hand, he picked at the snagged hole in her sweater, over the region of her heart, his eyes focusing downward on her enlarged stomach drawling desirously, “I don't wanna wait eight months; I wish the baby was here today. Then I'd know for sure you'd never take off.” Raising his eyes to hers, he set about pushing the top of her sweater and blouse aside to expose her smooth, creamy skin, placing a warm kiss to the heavenly region of her heart, his hands barely caressing the expanded sides of her tummy, his urgent paternal longing causing him to feel phantom kicking under his hands, transfixing him.

She placed her hands lightly over his, her voice lilting and sweet, “Give me permission to wear his medallion. I know I'm asking a great deal but you'll have me everyday the rest of our lives. Patrick will just have thoughts and memories of me.”

With his lips butterfly kissing her left breast, Dylan made a silent prayer for her to give him a child safely, and as quick as possible. Again, he imagined movements in her belly playing along his rough palms, before he raised his head to look down reverently at her. “Alright, wear his medallion as long as I'm the one you come home to every night. By the way what time will you be gettin' back?”

“Around three.”

“If you're gonna be late call so I won't worry.” Feeling another gentle poke from her belly, he asked her seriously, “Did your stomach just jab me?”

Blushing to the roots of her hair she denied, “It certainly didn't. I know I've puffed out a wee bit, but I'm not as bad as all that. You're imagination is working over time.” Pulling away from him she asked, “Dylan, if I'm not pregnant how will you feel?”

“Disappointed cause I want babies with you.”

“What if I can never give you children?”

“We'll have the boys and each other. Right now, what's important is that you get to feelin' completely well and whatever the doctors say I want you to tell me exactly. No more hiding things from me. I need your honesty more than I need sugar-coating.”

“Understood. Now are you up to a little foolin' around or should I be on my way.”

“Woman, I'll not make love to you out here. Now before you go I've got to say somethin'.” Kneeling in front of her, he touched her distended stomach, feeling vibrations under his palms he authoritatively spoke, “Listen up in there. I'm your dad and it's time to settle down. Your mom has been sick all night and she's exhausted, so no more goofin' around. I need her to do her errands and get back here safely. Your responsibility is to behave accordingly. Also, no getting her to stop for junk food. I packed lunch in the car.” Dylan placed his ear against her stomach, listening to energized gurgling until the sound stopped, then he held his lips lovingly to her belly bulge for a few seconds. Rising to his feet he helped her into the driver's seat, strapping her securely in before brushing her cheek with his lips, giving her single plait a playful tug before closing the door.

Carolina removed the medallion Patrick had given her from the rear-view mirror to drape the gold chain over her head. She started the ignition and waited for Dylan to step back. With a smile, she drove off not minding that the sun wasn't shining brightly. Dylan was her personal healing light, his golden hair beaming, and his presence warming. From the moment he'd touched her distended stomach she'd begun to feel better.

Chapter 15

Sitting at a red stop light Carolina sang merrily off-key. Remembering all of the beautiful music from the previous night, she tried imitating one of Justin's high notes but even to her own ears, she sounded like a banshee and if there was a babe in her belly, he or she wasn't pleased by her wailing because her stomach started to really hurt, corset-like pressure squeezing her sides and middle. Her pelvis widened painfully, causing her to cease her howling and grit her teeth as her stomach slowly lost some of its puffiness, the pain easing off.

With her discomfort lessening, she sat drumming her fingers on the steering wheel waiting for the light to go green. Her gold engagement ring, with its five precious little diamonds, caught and reflected the sun just beginning to break through the thick, black clouds overhead. The rays of light reminded her of how Dylan's eyes had shone the previous night, his irises sparkling when he'd knelt before her to slip the ring on her finger, asking her to marry him with so much southern charm she'd grown weak. Then he'd sung to her, 'You do something to me', his voice deep and enchanting, causing a wave of warmth to wash over her and settle in her stomach before rolling down to pool at the juncture of her thighs. The emotional weight of his mother's ring on her hand felt tremendous, giving her tremors of sadness, pangs of regret and waves of undying love. Carolina could feel his mother's wondrous presence surrounding her now and could smell the earthiness of his father. The ring on her finger grew warmer, giving her a tiny electrical jolt when the driver in the vehicle behind hers beeped the horn, urging her through the intersection. She quickly glanced skyward and despite the sun streaming through the clouds, decided to journey home for an umbrella in case the storm did break.

Pulling into the garage, her stomach, although not completely flat, was paining her less. She closed the exterior garage door as a precaution, knowing that even in the best neighborhoods lax behavior could invite trouble. Exiting her vehicle, she walked through the garage, into her home and came face-to-face with two brawny, tattooed men brandishing guns and one spindly, pierced man-child holding a grudge.

Calmly propping herself against a nearby black console table she addressed Liz's boyfriend, “Apparently you don't learn from your mistakes.”

He laughed at her confidently, “Bitch, if you hadn't noticed we out number you three to one. We have the guns and all you have is your big mouth.”

She mocked his laughter waving her middle finger at him, “But the three of you combined don't have the IQ of a peanut. My neighbors are home and they're homicide detectives.”

One of the gun holding duo, a big bald guy with a bushy mustache, sporting the tattoo S.W.P high upon his upper arm leered, telling her crudely, “We'll see if you can still talk so much when I'm ramming myself down your throat.”

Leaning back against the table, she kissed the air at him. “I like a good party. Put your guns away and let's do this right. But first get rid of short-eyes.”

The clean-shaven gun holder with a huge number 18 tattooed on the side of his neck looked suspiciously at Liz's boyfriend, “What's she talking about?”

“Nothing, just shoot her and let's go,” the man-child ordered nervously. These men despised pedophiles as much as they hated homosexuals and minorities. He wasn't going to let her big mouth put him in the crosshairs. Fearing for his own life, Liz's boyfriend walked over to Carolina and punched her in the face, watching happily as her head snapped back from the force, then backhanded her across the mouth hoping to put an end to her talking, before he got a bullet in the back of his head.

Tasting metal, Carolina spat out, “You molested Justin on Liz's order.” Turning to the other men, she tried to sound pleading, “They want me dead because I know what they did but I didn't tell anybody because the boy's family would have been destroyed.”

“You're wasting your breath. We got paid to do a job and the task is getting done. That family ruined themselves long ago by mating and marrying outside their own kind. You and the boy are the ones having to pay,” declared S.W.P. “But before I kill you I plan to feel your pure Irish body under mine,” the big bald thug menaced, handing his gun to his tattooed partner before walking over to roughly elbow Liz's boyfriend aside, removing his shirt to flex his muscles in her face.

His racist rubbish was sickening. She looked beyond him, watching as his partner turned to place the guns aside and from beneath the table she withdrew two long daggers, plunging one into S.W.P.'s neck to sever his carotid artery, his blood forming a red geyser, his eyes registering surprise before he dropped dead. Her face remained stolid as she heard the man-child's terrified exclamation and with her left hand she spear-threw the remaining dagger, assessing its flight until the gleaming tip hit its target, the remaining tattooed ruffian's back, directly behind where his heart should have been. Calmly she watched him try to pull the blade free before he fell lifelessly forward.

Carolina bleakly looked over at the fear-paralyzed man-child. With his dull blond hair and unexceptional blue eyes, she thought he appeared quite the sad sack, a very poor substitute for Dylan. However, she also knew he was someone's child, as Justin was hers, and maybe, just maybe, they were aware of his redeeming qualities, saw a side of him that hadn't been tainted by Liz's excesses. In a soft voice she commanded, “Convince me you're worth saving.” Stepping over the prone body of S.W.P., she walked around the terror-rooted figure of Liz's boyfriend. From behind him, she wrapped her upper arms around his throat, cradling him against her body. Into his ear she whispered, “I want an uncomplicated life and a family. But, if I let you go and you keep trying to kill me eventually one of the kids will get hurt and Patrick will leave me. If I let Patrick kill you and Liz, Dylan will never forgive me.” A warm breeze stirred around her and she tightened her arms on his neck, “I'm going to tell you a secret Tyler Mitchell Warren that only Justin knows. I'm not exactly human. I bear the mark of death and destruction within the now grown shell of a child that should have died at birth and although I try to suppress that part of my spirit, the fire can't be easily extinguished when it's been lit. Now I carry my love’s seed and don’t want vengeful blood to taint my babe. I just need a sign that you three should live.”

Her signal was a rush of warm fluid from her uterus, wetting her thighs. She peeked down and saw her sneakers tinged red with blood, felt her womb continuing to empty, her dreams ending. Closing her eyes tightly to block out the loss, she finished executing the chokehold, tightly squeezing his neck until he lay dead in her arms. Numbed by heartbreak, she released his body, opening her eyes in time to see him plop into a puddle of silvery blue fluid and the sight sent her to her knees.

****

Dylan sat frowning at Liz, disgusted that she'd immodestly worn a black mesh t-shirt that revealed her breasts even though she knew his house was full of children and impressionable young men. At the memory of sleeping with her on Sunday, he felt loathing, amazed that she could interpret his ability to have sex with her as anything more than fetish-fueled insanity since not once in the entirety of their relationship had he ever made love to her. But there she sat, for nearly two hours, stirring up the ashes of their marriage, trying to convince him that more good, besides the birth of Justin, had resulted from their ten years of Pandemonium. She was wasting his and her time. He would have tossed her out but reporters and paparazzi, who having gotten wind of his pending marriage, were camped outside.

Justin, Calder and Callum were sitting nearby acting as chaperons because they didn't trust him to be alone with her and apparently, no one else in the house trusted themselves to be around Liz, except Patrick who'd been eager to get her all to himself. Earlier he'd spied them walking through the house to who knew where, although Patrick had told him they'd been looking for him. But having found him, Patrick had kept watch over them until the boys had arrived mysteriously and even then, he’d hung around until Chris, Vega and their kids invited him to join them out at the stables.

Giving a great stretch of boredom and genuine tiredness Dylan knew he had to put a stop to her yacking before he lost his mind. “Liz the relationship between us was over from the start. Now tell me the real reason you're here. Carolina will be home soon and the two of you crossing paths would be unwise and possibly dangerous.”

Liz flipped her stiletto black hair over her shoulder, exaggerating the motion so he'd see she wore her engagement and wedding rings, “Did you tell her about us?”

Dylan wondered what Carolina was doing, hoped she'd have good news when she arrived. Catching Callum staring at Liz's semi-exposed torso Dylan cleared his throat meaningfully and the boy hurriedly looked away. “There’s no us,” he told her.

Crossing one leather-clad thigh over the other she bragged, “You never cheated on me because I satisfied you. She'll never do for you what I did.”

Dylan ignored her comments scrutinizing her accessories, five-hundred dollar black leather pumps, four-hundred dollar black designer sunglasses, eight-hundred dollar custom black handbag, and from her reddened nostrils and dilated pupils, he estimated two thousand dollars a day for her drug habit. “Do you need money?”

Liz tried to look hurt, pouting enticingly, “No, I need you and our son.”

From the background, Dylan heard Justin groan, “Oh, give me a friggin' break.”

She looked at Justin impatiently, her lips curling in disgust when she saw the coppery streaks in his hair, “Your time with that woman hasn't bettered your disposition, nor improved your language. And what the hell has she done to your hair? Dylan I can't believe you'd allow that cow to redden the Savage trademark golden mane.”

“Liz I will not tolerate name calling and Carolina hasn't dyed his hair,” Dylan defended although he could see Justin's hair was no longer the same blond as his own. He liked that the change made Justin resemble Carolina a little more, hinting at a connection the two of them desperately wanted. Now Dylan wanted Liz from under his roof. “If you don't need money, what do you want? And don't start that nonsense about wanting me because Carolina my world. I will never be with you again.”

Liz pinched the tip of her nose as if she'd gotten the whiff of rotten eggs, before allowing her ring-bearing hand to fall back at her side. “I'm here for the same reason as the reporters. Are you marrying her?”

He wished she'd stop flashing those ugly rings in his face. He'd never liked the twenty-four carat engagement or the million dollar diamond wedding ring she'd demanded and not because they'd cost a fortune. He hated those signs of ownership because they were vulgar, like her skin-tight black and white wedding dress had been. He couldn't wait to see Carolina on Sunday, wearing his mother's rings and he'd bet her attire would be simple, surely not a fashion nightmare that would have done Elvira Mistress of the Dark proud. Boastfully, he told her, “In a small, private, simple ceremony.”

Liz cackled. “A week after fucking me in her bed. That's priceless. Am I invited?”

“No,” the boys chorused and Calder gave her an especially blistering look.

Her lack of regard for the boys' presence irked Dylan. “Liz you need to leave.”

“She'll never give you what you crave,” she stated icily.

With his vision unobstructed by perverse desire, Dylan knew what had to be done. “She already has. I want Carolina to adopt Justin.”

“Amen,” the boys shouted as if sitting in the pews of the First Baptist Church.

Liz shot the trio a withering look, “Not in this lifetime. Can’t she carry a child? Are the two over there even hers?”

He didn't answer, but determinedly pursued his goal in a language she always understood, “Name your price.”

“You. I never should have let you go. This time we'll be happy,” she sniveled.

Calder chimed in angrily, his eyes locking with hers, “If you want to make our dad happy give him his mother's diamond necklace you stole.”

Liz scowled at the boy thinking he was an interfering, little pissant. “He's hers alright, inherited the loud-mouth gene I hear,” Liz stated darkly. Addressing Calder she warned, “I don't have his mother's necklace, so mind your own damn business.”

Dylan felt rage and indignation throughout his body, not an 'I'm gonna spank you 'cause you've been naughty' feeling, but an 'I'd like to bury you far out in the High Desert and forget to leave your finger sticking up', emotion that if acted upon would land him on death row. Snapping his fingers at her, he drew her attention away from Calder, “You will not address my child in that tone. If Calder says you have my Ma's necklace then you do.” He leaned forward menacingly, giving her a resentful glare, “You have no idea what that necklace symbolizes. You hated that those stones and my mama belonged together, always coveted them for yourself and after my parents' deaths, you pretended to be distraught over their disappearance. Get the necklace to my lawyers before today's end. Then get out of the Solimar Beach House by tomorrow night. You can move to the Beverly Hills townhouse, but I want you away from my family.”

“You can't mean that. I know you still care for me,” she motioned to touch his arm with her bohemia red lacquered nails.

Dylan recoiled from her violently, “Don't put your hands on me. I've told you what you need to do. I suggest you budget whatever money you have because you won't get another dime from me.”

Liz shot Calder a livid look and when the boy stuck his tongue out at her she snarled rabidly, before turning brazenly to Dylan, “Soon, you'll come to me, when the stress and sorrow become too much. The townhouse is an hour's drive away.”

Rising from the sofa Dylan called to his sons just as Patrick reentered the room. With controlled violence in his posture, he firmly addressed her, “I made a mistake-”

“I've always admired your predictability,” she interrupted, leering expectantly.

Dylan's voice was glacial, “Move to the New York apartment instead. The possibility of me ever laying eyes on you there's slim-to-none and if you are foolish enough to seek me out, I'll have you tossed in the street faster than a cat can lick its paw.” Dylan listened to her annoyed spluttering as he corralled his sons, “Let’s go boys.” He strolled from the room saying to Patrick, “She's all yours.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Patrick's ruthless tone let Liz know he would be the only one having fun and he watched intently as she gathered her belongings before hurrying from the room and he was right on her trail. When they were far away from Dylan and the boys, he grabbed her arm, spinning her to face him. “Get his mother's necklace to his lawyers today or if not I'll be coming to reclaim their property. You may be sinful enough to have had Justin molested. So full of selfish greed that you murdered Dylan's parents. But you're no match for me.” He pulled her closer, tightening his hold, stating dangerously, “If you feel you like pain I'll prove you don't. If you think you have friends who'll protect you from my wrath, they won't. If you believe I can't personally drag you back to the belly of Hell from which you sprang, you are assuredly mistaken. The only person standing between you and death at my hands is Carolina and you had better pray, if you know how, that nothing ever happens to her.” Patrick released Liz, shaking his hand as if he'd touched something eely.

Shoving on her shades Liz jutted her chin forward and placed clenched fists on her hipbones as she hissed furiously, “Screw you and that red-headed slut.”

With a slight wave of his arm, Patrick caused a strong gust to rise in the room that slammed into Liz. The spiraling wind sent her stumbling backward before lifting her forcibly off her feet to toss her head-over-heels into the corner. Quickly he entered her mind and having acquired the vital information he required he altered her perception of reality, sending her on a trip for more sinister than she’d ever experienced on all the psychoactive drugs she’d taken. He sauntered forward, crushing her broken sunglasses beneath his feet and kicking the scattered contents of her handbag from his path. Predatorily he advanced and he knew to her eyes his complexion was darkening to coal-black, body growing in height and girth until he stopped, the sinister behemoth, of her fears, with eyes and hair of fire, to tower over her shaking and huddled figure. He clasped his hands behind his back and caused her to think she was cast into the pit of darkness, the only light for her to behold, being a pair of disembodied orange-glow eyes and rising, undulating flames of hair. Patrick embellished on her terror by creating in her mind a loud, echoing voice full of virulent malice, “You now have until three to get the necklace. If you don't, at one minute past the hour, I'll be on my way to see you off. But don't bother packing; Hell, as you well know, doesn't have a fashion standard.” He reached out and Liz’s bloodcurdling scream ripped through the air.

Chapter 16

The temperature in Carolina's room was pleasantly warm. Pensively, she sat on her bed beside five baskets, three pink and two blue, all lined with protective greens, sachets of dried shamrocks and earth from Connemara. Her babies were plump and healthy, beautiful beyond belief, three golden-haired girls with eyes of green and two ginger-haired boys with eyes of blue. Sensing her presence, they all started transmitting and in her head. She could hear their combined thoughts: they wanted to go home.

Having no prepared speech she phoned Dylan, jumping nervously when he answered with a sultry, “Hey honey how'd everything go?”

Serenely she began her revelation, “I didn't keep the appointments. I stopped by my house. Some matters needed my attention. But I'm all better.”

Dylan sat back in his chair, studying the glowing tip of his cigar, “I'll reschedule. Were reporters there? Is that why you didn't go?”

“I haven't seen any reporters.”

“They were here all morning until a bunch of wolves and skunks took up residence out front and some intimidating hawks have been flying overhead.”

Carolina guessed the animals were waiting for her. “Well...”

“Liz stopped by uninvited. The boys were with me the whole time so don't think I was up to anything. I told her about the wedding.” Leaning back, he puffed on his cigar then blew twin smoke rings.

Carolina touched each of her babes reassuringly. She didn't want to hear about his ex-wife. “What time is it?”

“Almost two,” in an hour she'd be home he thought happily.

She took a steadying breath before proceeding, “I need you to come and get me. But by yourself, we need to talk and I don't want Patrick or the boys distracting us.”

He stared at the glowing tip of his cigar, “What do you want to talk about?”

Brightly she reassured him, “Nothing bad, I love and plan to marry you.”

He sighed heavily, thinking the concealment made whatever it was, she planned to say, sound bad. “I'm leaving now.”

Looking at their babies she nervously broached the matter, “I need you to stop off at the superstore to pick up a few things. If you're in the study, check your e-mail and please don't substitute anything. If the store doesn't have an item, call me.”

“You should keep lettin' Patrick do the shopping.” Dylan knew he could manage a quick whiskey and beer run but anything more and he'd need to pay his respects to every fan that stopped him and the shopping would cease to be a priority.

Her voice was honeyed seduction, “Please, treacle bear, just this once.”

“Oh, alright,” when she asked like that he'd wrestle a hungry lion.

“Thank you. Now check your e-mail so I know the list arrived.”

“Hold on a sec.” Placing the cigar aside, he typed rapidly. Logging into his e-mail account he quickly found her message. “It's here; I'll print it and be on my way.”

She could hear the printer operating, “I'll wait. Did you get any sleep?”

“No. Hey, those kids are cute. Are they relatives of yours?”

“In a manner of speaking. Don't forget to call if you have problems with the list.”

Dylan scanned the printout and began to feel tightness in his skull. “Are you gonna try and talk me into babysitting? I love you to death but I want to spend my wedding night with you, alone, not bouncing a bunch of squealers.”

On cue, the five babes noisily fussed and Carolina shushed and comforted them, “Don't say things like that. They're right here and they can hear you.”

He stubbed out the cigar, “You've committed us to keeping them haven't you?”

“Well of course I have. When you see them you'll change your mind.”

Testiness was starting to shoulder-in on his good mood, “Where is their mother?”

Carolina cooed to the babes, trying to calm them, “She's right here.”

Cheerful lost the fight and Dylan's bearish temper made a rare appearance causing him to growl into the phone, “Then tell her to foster her kids off on somebody else. I want you to myself for a while. Do you understand?”

The babies' cries grew louder, “Yes I understand. Will you still run the errand?”

“Yeah, I'll go to the store but I won't change my mind. Those kids are not coming here and that's final. We already have a house full of people and they're not half as noisy as that bunch you're with now,” he shouted.

The babies were red-faced and straining. After all she’d endured, Carolina saw no reason to tolerate his nasty selfishness. She hung up and gave his babies a no-nonsense look that instantly quieted them.

He heard a click, then hollow silence. “Hello? Hello?” He stared at the phone in disbelief before flipping it shut. She'd hung up on him. Taking a deep breath to calm his volatile mood he rose to his feet just as Chris ambled into the room, walking over to peer at the computer screen. “I'm going to run an errand for Carolina, watch out for my boys while I'm gone and under no circumstance is Liz allowed in this house.”

“Sure, I'll watch the kids and don't worry about Liz 'cause Jack Hanna couldn't get in here if he wanted to. There are so many beasties out front I have the younger kids convinced you sideline as a zoo keeper.” Taking a quick look at his brother's monitor Chris gave a hearty laugh, “How did you make those kids look like that?”

“Like what? All I did was open the e-mail,” Dylan said, not really paying attention to the image on the monitor as he collected his keys and wallet from the desk drawer.

“Five kids, if they were yours and Carolina's except you've put curly red hair on the boys who look like you and blond hair on two of the girls who look like Carolina and that little blond on the end looks like Ma when she was a baby.”

Dylan heard a great whoosh as he looked at the monitor, his heart accelerating out of control. “Where's Patrick?”

“He's out front talkin' to those animals.”

“Thanks, I'll see you later.” Picking up the shopping list, he hoped he looked calmer than he felt as he quickly made his way to the porch where he saw Patrick, in the middle of the driveway scratching a wolf behind its ears. There were also various other animals lying around as if they owned the place. From a safe distance he called out, “Carolina e-mailed a list of things she needs picked-up from the superstore. Take my truck cause the list is pretty long. I'm on my way to meet her at her house.”

With a gentle wave of his hand, Patrick sent the animals trotting off. “Sure. I love shopping. The sales associates are usually attractive and always accommodating.”

Dylan gave Patrick the keys, then the list allowing him time to look peruse the detailed requests before relaying, “She told me no substitutions.”

“Who needs this much baby stuff?” Patrick scanned the list again.

“Apparently we do,” he offered, passing him the photo printout.

Staring at the picture, Patrick made the sign of the cross over his black silk shirt. “Heavenly Father they're beautiful. Is she alright?”

“She sounded fine. We'd better go.” He held his hand out for Patrick's keys.

He eagerly handed them over, “Of course. I'll see you there.”

Trying to make sense of what had happened to Carolina Dylan asked, “Is this standard for women like her?”

Patrick shook his head. “Carolina is unique. Now go take care of them.”

****

Standing in the doorway Dylan watched as she sat on the ivory bedspread with her back to him, talking to their babies. In his head, he could hear his sons and daughters stating their impatience at having to wait. Carolina tried consoling them, promising they'd be going home soon, but her efforts weren't good enough. In unison, the babes cried at an ear aching volume as she cooed and sang horribly off key, which only served to upset them more, their wails growing louder, little fists waving in the air. “I hope they don't keep up that much racket at night,” he teased.

At once Carolina and the babies quieted and for a moment she worried he'd sense what had happened with Liz's boyfriend and his pals, what she'd done, but they were newly bound so she let the thought pass from her mind. Had she been preparing to face Patrick the reality would have been entirely different. Rising to her feet, she faced Dylan, wondering if he'd figured out the truth. Drinking in the sight of him dressed in a blue twill shirt, faded jeans and his favorite brown boots, she wanted to know the comfort of his strong arms holding her close. Feeling nervous, she smoothed her damp palms on her a-line khaki skirt, “I bet you didn't go to the store.”

Taking in her rosy cheeks, glossy hair, and shapely figure, to him the only thing hinting at her recent delivery of babies was the further increase in her bust size. Dylan hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and gave her a look of mock severity, “No, I hurried here to give the babies' mama, you, a strong talkin' to.”

She breathed a huge sigh, smiling broadly, “You know they're ours?”

“I do. Did you know when you left this morning you'd be having them?”

Shaking her head, she stated what she herself wanted to believe, “No. They surprised me. However, I think my body was preparing to have them since yesterday. Remember the shimmering fluid?”

He nodded trying hard not to look guilty, but he'd wanted her to be with him forever and now she would be. There was nothing wrong with a man wishing to be happy, desiring things from the depths of his heart and soul. She was unharmed, more beautiful than he'd ever seen, plus she'd never know. What he'd done would simply be lost in the existing mystery of who and what she was.

“Well that's all there was at first, then I got really tired. I dozed off and when I woke up the babes were here. Oh Dylan, they are perfect, plump and healthy.”

He'd always wanted to be at his children's births, deliver them as his brothers had all delivered their own. He'd been there for Justin's entrance into the world. The next time she was pregnant he wouldn't let her out of his sight and he'd deliver his children. His look was momentarily displeased, “I don't like that I missed their births. I would have crawled through miles of broken glass to be here. Why didn't you call when your labor started?”

Well for one, she'd been busy getting rid of Liz's boyfriend and his buddies. “I didn't know what was happening at first. Then after the babes were here I waited because I was scared you'd think I was some sort of beast.”

He saw the genuine fear on her face, how her eyes darted trying to measure his reaction and he felt saddened by her insecurity. “Honey, I'd never think that. I know you're special, precious and not exactly human like you claim.”

“I am. My spirit is just a wee bit different, more enhanced than the average woman's,” she tentatively confessed, terrified of loosing him.

He raised an eyebrow, “Having five full-term babies after one month of pregnancy is much more than a little different, and our babies are like you as well I can hear them in my head now, like I heard you yesterday.”

Taking a deep breath she admitted, “My spirit is fay. Do you know what that is?”

“No I don't.”

Frantically, yet with a measure of self-protection, she unburdened her soul, “Fay, born of fire and meadow fairies many decades past. Years ago, my son and I, after his father died, were elected to enliven the bodies of twins who weren't going to survive being born. The arrangement was made because their parents and ancestors had always been faithful and generous to our kind. Therefore, at the time of delivery, I flowed into the form of the dying baby girl with no problems but my son didn't make the transition. The human baby boy, my physical twin, died and my fay babe was lost to me. So here I am, fay spirit in a human body just given birth to five babes who are fay of spirit and something else I haven't yet put my finger on, but they are completely human of form.”

There was no possible way she knew, only his Ma and Pa had known and Justin hinted at his true nature now and again. His tone was deceptively innocent, “What do you mean something else?”

She searched his handsome face, her eyes slowly, traveling over the strong lines, “Why don't you tell me? Four of your babes claim their coming early was what you wanted, claim you kept calling to them, wanting them to hurry along and they did because you are 'he who must be obeyed'. They also revealed that you set out to get me with child, wished them into existence our first night together. In addition, the little one on the end says you wished especially hard for him yesterday. Is that true?”

Dylan cleared his throat, conscience-stricken. “I'm their father, of course they feel they must obey me and I did wish for a child that first night. You wanted a baby, were ready to carry one. I could smell your fertility. But, I wasn’t certain you’d get pregnant. I use to wish for more kids all the time but was only blessed with Justin. While you and I were apart, I kept hopin’ you’d call me and say I’d gotten you with child, but you didn’t. When we got back together, I did wish for a baby a few times more. . But I swear I didn't know you were with child until you told me and then I couldn't stop thinking about our baby.”

She couldn't tear her eyes away from his and their growing brilliance. “How is it possible, five babes, and the little dote on the end, who's gonna explain him?”

He'd studied their picture and knew exactly what she meant and heaven help him he wished he had her remarkable talent for prevarication. “There are five babes because I wished for a big family, larger than my brothers have. The little one, well consider him an extra special wedding present. I wished for him because you were so miserable yesterday after you learned about Calder. Honey, I want your happiness.”

'He who must be obeyed‘, it was what the babes swore he was but could tell her no more. She wanted to truly know him. “Who and what are you Dylan?”

His eyes never wavered from hers, “I'm my parent's son, brought into this world by lightning, so I'm blessed, a mama's boy so I'm doubly so, Texan, singer, father, brother, family man, the person who's in love with you and I'm selfish. By giving you what you want I know you'll never leave me.”

Carolina studied him from the top of his gleaming blond head down to his leather shod feet, then reviewed the subject of Dylan Savage once more and in the index of his eyes she found an additional answer: he was even more secretive than she, and was hiding a serious truth. “Your mother prayed for you to live. You've wished for these babes. Is that how you got Justin?”

“Yes. After Vega left me, I was lonely and miserable for years. I started wishing I had a son and no sooner than I'd met Liz, we were pregnant. She wanted me and I wanted my son. Shortly after my parent's deaths, we were married. But I was still miserable and lonely, devastated by the loss of my Ma and Pa, only connecting with Liz physically, so I found myself wishing the baby would be the child of the woman I'd love forever and that he'd hurry into the world. He did and although I never felt I loved her I assumed Liz was the woman I was to spend my entire life with.”

“He was premature?”

“He was born the first day of June, one minute past midnight, three months early, but was perfectly healthy and fully developed. I loved him from the moment I envisioned him and made sure Liz stayed off the booze and drugs, forced her to eat which wasn't easy because she worried about gaining weight. August told me Liz would starve herself and the baby, vomit, take laxatives, do anything to stay thin. I put a stop to her dangerous narcissism, watched over her and hired staff to monitor her health.”

“Not being able to trust Liz must have been very nerve-wracking.”

He nodded. “From the time Justin was born he didn't want anything to do with her. When she tried holding him, which wasn't often, he'd scream like she was killing him. The first year I, along with August, took care of his every need. After that, I employed nannies to accompany us on tour. I was a good dad to him while I tried to be a decent husband to Liz. Never did I have sexual relations outside the boundaries of our marriage bed, even though from the beginning she clearly had a taste for other men and women. But I overlooked her many faults, as a wife and parent, because I never really loved her and because I could take care of Justin myself.”

“You've always been his mother and father.”

“He needs his real mother. I accept he's yours. He's even starting to resemble you, changes to his eyes and hair, that aren't cosmetic because he hasn't been anywhere to have them done. His spirit is that of the baby you lost, which means you were always meant to be mine. I told Liz I want you to adopt Justin and of course, she didn’t agree. But she'll be out of our hair by tomorrow night. She's relocating to New York. I'm sorry I couldn't make Justin yours legally but I accept that he is in every way, plus we have five new babies and the twins. I think we're a long way towards happiness.”

Carolina held out her hand to him, “I love you for giving me what I'd never have without you. I think if you acknowledge to Justin that you accept me as his mother and keep reassuring him then he'll probably be alright. Now come meet your babes. Then dash off to the store. We can't take them home unless they're secured in safety seats.”

Walking forward he grasped her hand, rubbing his calloused thumb against her palm before lowering his head to kiss her leisurely, her taste, sweeter than he recalled, her mouth opening, inviting him, her tongue shyly mating with his, hinting at changes her body had undergone again. He released her lips, murmuring, “I sent Patrick. I would have needed a week to gather up all that stuff.”

Carolina swatted him hard on his bicep, stamping her foot in irritation, “Drat, I told you to come alone. We've got to get the babes to the courtyard before Patrick-”

“Before I what, Carolina?” Patrick asked from behind Dylan, stepping around the other man's taller, broader form, sniffing the air and getting none of the odors, blood, sweat, hatred and death that had assaulted him downstairs. This room was full of the sweet smell of babes and his delectable Gingernut. He rudely pushed Dylan aside to stand before her, saying absently to the other man as he awaited her response, “Dylan, I phoned your lawyer. Liz dropped off your mother's necklace as instructed. He'll bring it to the house tonight.”

Growing up the youngest of four brothers Dylan was accustomed to being pushed aside. Therefore, he wouldn't argue with Patrick over his shunting to avoid upsetting Carolina. His voice was deferential as he gave Patrick a sideways glance, “Thanks for following up with him.”

Carolina looked from Patrick to Dylan and back, “Patrick I will not tolerate being bullied. Don't stir up problems with my babes here.”

Patrick's tone was low, coaxing, “Tell him Carolina or I will.”

She was fearsome of loosing everything. Feeling stinging pressure behind eyelids she'd closed to keep threatened tears from flowing, pitifully she wailed, 'You will not. I've loved ye faithfully, please don't do this to me.”

Patrick couldn't look away from her, from his medallion, which was back at home lying atop her sugar pink blouse. Remaining steadfast he started, “Dylan-”

Anxiously, she cut off Patrick's words, “When I got here Liz's boyfriend and two men were waiting to hurt me. However, they didn't. I'm fine. I don't want either of you getting ideas about vengeance.” Her eyes were open, misty, looking into Patrick's begging him not to correct her account and she saw his support but not his complacency. She was too afraid to look Dylan's way, just that morning she'd promised to be forthright with him and already she'd cut a Irish jig around doing that very thing.

Dylan knew then he'd completely misunderstood his mother's words. They'd been a warning. Dylan shoved Patrick aside, stepping close to thoroughly look her over for signs of violence but there were none. Pulling her into his arms, he held her closer, sniffing her hair, around her face, along the line of her neck, detecting only her familiar scent and the new aroma of hazelnuts and sweet cream. With concern and fury at the forefront of his mind, he held her at arms length, “What did they do to you?”

She looked from Dylan to Patrick, then back, saying nothing. Setting her face in determined lines she stared, daring them to pursue the interrogation. The decisions she'd made were right and they weren't going to make her regret what she'd done.

“Gingernut, Dylan is awaiting an answer,” Patrick encouraged her with his look.

With her palms, she fretfully smoothed her hair, “Whatever happened is done.”

Patrick considered the only woman he'd ever loved. Closing his eyes so her beauty wouldn't blind him to the truth, he entered her mind swiftly, at the same time grasping Dylan's hand so they'd both know the reality of what she'd endured. Patrick's tears came then, hurting his eyes, piercing like shards of glass. He'd never felt such sorrow, not even at the death of her brother. This was his fault for not caring for her as she'd needed, for not protecting her from her own fragile heart that was so afraid of abandonment that she'd do all that was in her power to assure her security and their happiness, even if she had to deny or alter reality.

Releasing Dylan's hand Patrick unashamedly wiped the tears from his face, sensed the anguish of the man beside him, “Gingernut, my arrogant selfishness all these years has robbed you of the protection you needed. I will never leave you, should have never voiced the threat. So feel free to tell us all that happened.”

She smiled serenely and shook her head, “There's nothing more to tell.”

“Will continued deception not taint the babes? Rise to the standard you've set for yourself by showing your children you truly fear nothing. Show them that love inspires honesty and freedom. Tell Dylan what led to all this and what you've endured.”

She stopped smiling, “No Patrick, now leave well enough alone.”

Dylan knew what Patrick had allowed him to see and that was killing him. If there was more, he wasn't certain he could handle it but he had to know, because he cared for her more than his own life. Looking to Patrick, he asked hoarsely, “Tell me what?”

Patrick continued to stare at her, saying nothing. She was forever changed now, stronger than he could have ever imagined. Bringing the babes into the world had taken monumental determination and commitment, finally revealing to him what she truly was and he loved her even more. For that reason, at that moment, he wouldn't betray her, “Never mind Dylan.”

Carolina smiled at Patrick, silently thanking him. “Now come, both of you, the babes are overdue to be named.” She extended a hand to each of them feeling their strong, sure grips. Miraculously her world was back in balance, she had everything, her children, a family and two men she loved beyond reason. The dark curse that had hounded her was almost gone and now she was free. At least she hoped so.

Together they all walked the short distance over to the smiling infants, each man having the thought that the babes were not exactly fay or human but projections of her love and maternal desire and they feared the babes would vanish at any moment. With knowing, sidelong glances at each other, Dylan and Patrick silently shared their sadness. Patrick was the first to say, “The little colleen on the end should be named Susan Josephine because she looks mostly like Dylan's mother and a bit like his father.”

For a moment, Dylan was hopeful that the babes were truly a miracle, his wishes come true, because Carolina had no knowledge of what his parents looked like. Then he heard her say to Patrick, “She does look like the baby pictures Chris showed me.”

With an unsteady hand Dylan pointed to the red-haired boy infant on the end, “That little tyke with his dimples and serious brow we'll call Patrick Dylan after his true Pa and his brother will be Dylan Patrick after me.”

“Each of them has identical birthmarks to each of yours. Here let me show you.” Gently she picked up baby Patrick and unwrapped his perfect little body from the pristine soft white cotton sheet she'd cut and fashioned into blankets for them, placing her finger gently to a greenish spot near his navel, “Patrick show Dylan yours.”

“I already know it's a tiny shamrock.” Dylan reached out to take the baby, needing to feel for himself its existence.

Carolina pulled away from him, holding baby Patrick protectively against her chest, “You've been smoking. I don't want that stench on him.”

Dylan looked at Patrick who was shaking his head from behind her. Daringly he ignored the other man asking, “If I take my shirt off can I hold them?”

“Of course as long as the scent isn't on your skin.” She smiled happily and without warning placed the babe in Patrick's arms. “How does he feel? I know he doesn't look much like you, but when you smell him, you’ll know he’s yours. His scent is richly green like Ireland, mixed with a tropical breeze as is your Paradise and when you look deep into his eyes you see the tiniest of flames especially when he's fussy.”

Patrick held the squirming babe close to his chest, felt its solid warmth, sniffed his sweet baby smell and started crying earnestly because he held in his arms the entirety of her love for him and for a moment her image seemed to loose some of its brilliance and he suffered an awful suspicion. Hurriedly he passed the infant back to her, saying anxiously, “Dylan there will be plenty of time later for us to hold the babes. Let's finish naming them, and then hurry home.”

Dylan gave Patrick a look of inquiry but Patrick wouldn't meet his eyes. To Carolina, Dylan said, “You name the last two.”

Touching each one lovingly she decided, “These two will be named for my brother and his wife. This little imp will be Clover Honey and you my little genius will be Ciarana Ginger. We can go home now. Patrick, did you get everything at the store?”

He grasped her hand keeping her still, “Not just yet Gingernut. Where are the men who attacked you?”

Pulling away from his hold she continued to touch and play with the babes, not sparing him a glance she answered cryptically, “I sent them away.”

He asked again, “Where are they Carolina?”

She fixed him with a beguiling look, “You trespassed into my mind so I'm surprised you don't know. They were here to kill me but I killed them instead then I gave them their lives back because I didn't want my babes stained by their blood. I sent the men on their way, a little changed, but alive.”

“After they left what happened?”

“I came up here and fell asleep. When I awoke the babes where here.”

Patrick narrowed his eyes. He'd been in the delivery room when Callum and Calder were born, remembered the smell of birthing, no babes had been born into this sweet smelling, pristine room. “Kiss her Dylan and tell me if you notice a difference.

Dylan assured him, “I kissed her earlier and everything was fine.”

“I'm not convinced. Gingernut come here.” Patrick held his arms out to her.

Carolina entered his embrace raising her lips to his lovingly, but when they met baby Patrick gave an ear-splitting cry that made Carolina jerk away with widened eyes. She hurried over to sit and comfort him; lowering the top of her blouse, she offered the child her breast. Hungrily he latched on. His warm tiny fist rested against her cool flesh. Without looking at Patrick or Dylan she instructed, “Take the other babes and get them settled in their car seats. I'll be down when he's finished.”

Patrick watched Carolina for a few seconds more, fearing something was certainly amiss. He called to her softly and when she looked up at him, he asserted, “I'm happy about the babes, about little Patrick.” When she beamed at him, he saw the luster of firelight around her head and shoulders. He knew uncertainty and fear, tears welling up again, “Gingernut, you'd never leave me would you?” He saw her lips move, possibly to answer but baby Patrick let out an ear-piercing wail that distracted her, leaving his fears unanswered. In despair, he addressed Dylan, “Let's take the colleens down first and then you can come back for Carolina and the boys.” Cupping his hands together, Patrick and the baby girls vanished from the room.

Dylan vaguely heard Patrick and definitely didn't witness the dematerialization because his attention was wholeheartedly focused on the marvelous sight of Carolina nursing baby Patrick. The sweet aroma of her milk stirred Dylan's thirst and hunger, his muscles tightening in longing. He wanted to touch and hold her, take her nipple in his mouth at the exact moment he plunged into her warm body. Hearing Patrick gruffly calling to him from the hall Dylan left hurriedly, biting his tongue to quell his desire.

Chapter 17

Dylan had never seen a man weep as distressingly as Patrick. He sat in a heap, bawling noisily with shaking shoulders, leaking eyes and a runny nose. Handing the little fellow his handkerchief, Dylan looked away to attend to his baby girls resting in their baskets. After a few more minutes of the man's uncontrolled howling, threatening tears himself Dylan walked over to hunker before him, “Hey, you gotta stop. Carolina is gonna be upset if her girls get to fussin'.” Patrick kept right on crying. With his own eyes stinging, Dylan laid a calming hand on the other man’s forearm, “Pull yourself together. We're supposed to be getting the babes ready for the ride home.”

Patrick made a cradling motion with his arms before letting them fall heavily to his sides. “There, everything is ready,” he blubbered.

Dylan looked around him, his daughters, now sat secured in posh 'Princess' pink car seats while two other stylish safety seats of 'Starry Eyes' blue sat unoccupied beside them awaiting their brothers. The pink lined baskets that had been the girls' beds where nowhere to be seen. Turning back to the sad figure in black Dylan fought the urge to consolingly pat the man's bowed head, wondering why he didn't magically stop himself from weeping. “Are you gonna keep on until Carolina comes down?”

Patrick looked up at him sniffling, “I don't want her or the babes to go. However, I don't see how any of them can stay. You saw what happened to her as I did.”

“That was only a vision.”

“Not just a vision, I feel her loss. She miscarried what was in her womb, blood running out of her like a river, right before she killed Liz's boyfriend.”

“She said there'd been some shimmering fluid at the births. The babes told her they'd come early because I'd called to them.”

Patrick gave him a look of exasperation. “How do you explain the shamrock babe? I haven't slept with her since she forced me out of the coma I put myself into after her brother died. That was six years ago. There should be no little Patrick.”

Dylan trustingly confided, “I wished for her to have him so she'd be happy.”

Patrick's annoyed countenance was transformed into outright incredulity. “Listen carefully, Carolina lies to protect people and herself, now she has you doing the same. Wishing for a babe, humans can wish for one until they're blue in the face. I know from personal experience with Ciaran and Clover that such action less wanting rewards only misery and despair. You're marked by lightning I grant you, but music is your magic, not procreation. You know what you saw. She lost the babe, tried regaining its little life by bringing those brutes that attacked her back from the brink of Hell. When her efforts were unsuccessful she set the bastards on their way, then she went upstairs to sleep.”

Dylan was singing 'Life Is Beautiful' in his head, trying to keep out Patrick's naysaying, not wanting to doubt himself or her. “We didn't see beyond that. Maybe she was carrying six babies and unfortunately lost one.”

“They're not-”

“Shut up. They're our children. Justin is hers too. I saw the changes in him,” Dylan's tone was quick, hot and sharp. He only wanted to believe in his and Carolina's combined magic, but the music in his head was growing faint.

“Your son is changing because he desperately wants a mother and because Carolina brought him back. His transformation started after she breathed her fire and energy into him. Justin is no more her fay babe than I am,” Patrick stated compellingly.

Dylan looked over at his daughters, his voice low, “But you don't know the-”

“But nothing. Whatever happened when she was asleep, allowed her to bring over babes of her fantasies. She holds the magic.”

He wouldn't let go of the dream, “The babes were talking. I heard them.”

“You were listening to Carolina. She's been in and out of your head more times than you can imagine. Every fantastic thing she does, becomes, is to fulfill your desires, her pleasing you by instinctively giving what you want and need. Your children have to be extraordinary, because you expect them to be. Have you heard the colleens since you've been away from her?”

Dylan turned his gaze from the babes, saying sadly, “No.” But it wasn't just him wanting to believe in Carolina, his mother had told him long ago that his children would be exceptional, entering the world through unique means, because he was special and though he hadn't always heeded her advice he'd always trusted his mama's word but Patrick's reasoning was persuasive. His own self-judgment added to the dilemma. What was remarkable about him spending thirteen years in a miserable relationship, a lifetime alone without the love of a wife to complete him? How could he be considered exceptional when he hadn't protected his son from harm? Would being a transplant, brought forth and of lightning, have given him the power to wish into existence his children? Or to sing for that matter? He'd always believed his unique birth had endowed him with special abilities but now his doubts were steamrolling over his hopes, his beliefs, and on one point, he sought clarification from Patrick, “After she brings you back, who causes her to change?”

Patrick felt no satisfaction at Dylan's mind shift. “I had the thoughts and she made them happen. Her breast torpedoed because you wanted them to, her transformation was what you wanted, your desires no matter how tiny that she picked up on and made real to please you.”

Dylan's voice was remote, “She said you gave me the power to change her.”

“Carolina wants us to get along so she'd tell you anything. If I had already given you a particular power, it would have been to see your ex-wife unambiguously. However, I believe I will eventually grant you the powers to see your parents at will, because their absence continues to haunt you and to gauge Carolina's level of honesty. She is terrified of loosing people, of being abandoned and is not above self-deception and lying to maintain balance in her life. Now she's casting spells to keep her life in harmony.”

Dylan wanted to believe in her. “You didn't even know she was fay. How do you know she used magic?”

Patrick's tone was egotistical, “She wouldn't kiss me. Her refusal lets me know she's keeping something hidden.”

Dylan couldn't believe Patrick's primary reasoning rested on not being kissed. “In the past, I'm sure, she kissed you plenty but she kept her true spirit hidden for over two decades. Little Pat made her turn away today, nothing more.”

Patrick gave him a look that said he was finally catching on. “That's right. I held him, and felt absolute love, as if I were holding everything Carolina feels for me in my hands, as if she somehow split, and gave a chunk of herself to the babe so he can exist. So with five babes what can there be left of my precious Gingernut? When I studied her, she seemed to be fading away and you saw what holding little Patrick did to me. I don't think anybody except Carolina should handle them. I can't imagine what other people might experience or what may happen to her.”

With his face set in a serious mask, Dylan raised an eyebrow, “Are you trying to drive me crazy like you were last night?”

Patrick's gaze was unfaltering, “No.”

Dylan fought against being swayed. “You know what, I don't believe you. I love her and she loves me, maybe not as much as she cares for you but she does. She's also the mother of our children. Carolina won't ever leave us, or them. I appreciate everything you've done but don't mess with her with your notions. I won't allow you to take from her what she so desperately wants.”

Patrick gave him his handkerchief back and a hard look. “I've developed a huge amount of brotherly affection for you so I'm going to ignore your tone. I've only ever wanted Gingernut's happiness, though I may not have always acted in her best interest. I also want her health and safety. Right now, I believe she's in jeopardy. You know from your own experience with your parents, that a loved ones leaving is not often a choice they make, that rips them from us. If Carolina has made some otherworldly bargain to achieve motherhood, you, nor I, may have the ability to keep her with us.”

Dylan put the handkerchief in his pocket. The improbability of all that had happened in his life, and Patrick's sincere concerns, began to burrow into his consciousness, causing him to massage his forehead tiredly. Sadly, he asked, “If what you say is true, do you think she's aware of what's happening?”

“Perhaps a wee bit, but she has a well cultivated ability to insulate herself from the truth especially if the facts are likely to cause her distress. Go get her and the other babes and let's take them home. I think we're in for another sleepless night. My desire to annihilate those who planned to kill her will not let me rest anyway, and the only reason I’m not going to slowly torture each of them is because she’s convinced harm will come to the babies and I’ll not risk their lives. But after everything that's happened, I can no longer honor my oath to Carolina concerning Liz.”

Dylan wondered if he'd ever be free of his ex's drama. “What's she done now?”

Patrick assessed Dylan's subduedness, realizing he was unaware of Liz's culpability in Carolina's attack. “I need you to keep the family and yourself safe.”

“Of course.”

Patrick shifted his voice, so that the tone was mellow and entrancing, “You will do nothing about what I reveal, must keep in mind our bond and your responsibilities.”

“I'll remember.” Family was everything to him; they would always come first.

With his eyes blazing firelight Patrick hypnotically confided, “Liz sent those men here to kill Carolina because she doesn't want Gingernut with you and Justin. Before this, your ex planned to extort money from you in exchange for pictures and videos she had taken of Justin’s abuse. She had him kidnapped and sexually assaulted because you sought sole custody and-” Patrick halted his disclosure to study Dylan and decided to just forge ahead with what needed to be told, the most painful revelation Dylan would have to accept, “Liz murdered your parents.”

Dylan felt as if he were plummeting from the top of Angel's Falls, hitting icy water, knew the sensation of being knocked inside-out by the impact, sinking into inky blackness and then he emotionally shut down to avoid storming out to find Liz and stab her to death. Clenching his fists at his sides Dylan struggled with common sense, felt his father's hand on his shoulder trying to keep him on the right path. Rising to his feet, Dylan could hear his own voice seeming to come from far away, “Once Carolina told me you're a fixer, but I believe you're more of an assassin. Now that we're bound will you tell me which is the truth?”

Getting to his feet Patrick faced Dylan stating candidly, “I'm a galactic journeyman specializing in demolition and negotiation to ensure universal security. I've solved more situations through annihilation rather than reasoning, compromise and bargaining.”

Dylan inclined his head respectfully, “Well once Liz is in New York, do whatever you feel necessary to guarantee the welfare of Carolina and the kids.”

Not trusting Dylan's facade of calm, feeling the intensely violent, pulsating energy radiating from his rival turned sibling and friend, Patrick stepped back, looking toward their sweet colleens then again to his little brother and simply indicated, “Understood.”

****

More than twenty-four hours with no rest and with the room in complete darkness, Dylan still couldn’t sleep. Instead he lay rigidly on his back in bed beside Carolina, craving her, but afraid to act on his desires. He looked through the blackness as if he could see beyond the wall into the adjacent sitting room she'd arranged into a nursery, hoping to discover the truth of his babies' existence so he could feel whole again. It saddened him that although Carolina had made no secret of her yearning for him since they'd arrived home he dared not touch her as a lover for fear that their babes would stir and begin wailing uncontrollably.

In sleep, she turned to him, draping her arm across his mid-section, snuggling closer, murmuring sweet words. He eased away trying not to wake her, and within seconds, she’d closed the distance between them, draping a bare thigh over the sensitive region of his pajamas. Rolling away from her, resting upon his side, he closed his eyes allowing visions of the babies to fill his mind and freeze his ardor. Eyelids growing heavy, breaths deepening, the rise and fall of his chest a self-hypnotic, he was drifting off to sleep when in his mind he heard Carolina's heart wrenching wails. Coming fully awake he turned and wrapped her in the security of his arms as she wept silently, whispering against her ear, “Honey don't fret. I'm right here. Go back to sleep.”

“You're afraid of me and the babies,” she whimpered.

He gave her a comforting squeeze, “That's not so.”

She swiped at her wet cheeks, “You won't touch or hold them or me.”

Dylan pressed his lips to her hair, caressed her upper arm, “I am touching and holding you now, but earlier I was tired and I still am.”

Being an adept pseudologist, she didn't believe him. “You're lying. I know Patrick allowed you to glimpse inside my mind. What I endured is equal to the pain I'm experiencing now that you're withholding your affections.”

Taking a deep breath he confessed, “Patrick and I believe if you give emotionally or physically to any of us the babes and you will suffer.”

Rolling over, she faced him, “No such thing will happen.”

He searched her glowing eyes, “Why did baby Pat cry when his Pa kissed you?”

Carolina held his steady gaze, smiling at him through the darkness, “He's possessive like his fathers and he was hungry.”

He wanted to believe her. “Every time I even thought about touching you this evening baby Dylan would pitch a right fit. So you're telling me if I kiss you, he won't let loose with his squalling and the others aren't gonna fuss mightily?”

Carolina moved closer to him. “No they aren't.”

“No scary being is gonna steal the babes from their cribs?”

Beneath the covers, she rubbed her foot up-and-down the curve of his muscular calf, “If you count your brothers as scary beings then you might want to check their luggage when they leave on Monday to make sure one of them isn't trying to abscond with baby Susan. Now kiss me.”

She was right about his brothers. He and Carolina hadn't offered an explanation about the sudden appearance of the babies and no one had asked because the entire household had fallen instantly and madly in love with them. Especially his brothers and their wives who'd grown childishly upset when they weren't allowed to play with them, with little Susan especially, seriously asking how they could get one just like her of their own. Therefore, the morning after their wedding he would be on vehicle check before his brothers took off for Texas.

Carolina looked at him with great expectation. He could see her eyes glowing in the darkness, the smell of hazelnuts and cream all around her, the stimulating motion of her instep stroking his leg. Moving his head slightly forward, his lips brushed hers and nothing happened, no crying babies, no doors bursting open. Groaning, he pressed harder, teasing her lips with his tongue, felt her opening to him, granting him access to the warmth of her mouth and something out of the ordinary did occur. He didn't grow har; the tiniest jolt of arousal didn’t stir his slumbering member. With trembling hands, he gently cupped her face, brushing her cheekbones with his thumbs. Silently he wished she'd, that very moment, tell him the truth about everything because if she didn't he was certain his fear induced impotence would constantly greet her sexual desire.

With the tips of her fingers, she tucked locks of silky hair behind his ears, tracing the contours of his strong body down to his waist where she played with the tie of his pajama bottoms, knowing he was flaccid beneath the fabric. Accepting she'd never be free until her lying stopped, she complied with his unspoken request, “I can't love or be truly loved without paying a huge price and the problem started long before I became human. My fay mate didn't die and he wasn't my husband. He was a handsome rogue I foolishly lifted my fairy gown for, lay out with time-and-time again in the meadows and streams, dancing with him amongst the flames. Once he'd had his fill of me he flew off to be with his preferred, a human enchantress of unparalleled beauty, gifted in the arts of witchery, hearth, home, and mating. But he knowingly left me ripe with his seed.”

Dylan traced the line of her jaw with his thumb, “He was a fool. You're lovely and kind. If you were having his child he should have done right by you and the baby.”

“Not every male has your sense of duty and he’d made me no romantic promises ever, but I'd grown fond of him, enjoyed his attentions and I doubted I would attract another. Back then, I didn't look like this. Although my hair was red, it was dull. My features were mousy like my meadow father's, dark eyes, an overbite, and my figure was willowy, my chest almost board flat. Yet I burned with the passion of my fire fay ancestors. The yearning demanded satisfaction and once I set my sights in his direction, I couldn‘t look away, could see no other option, although he was cruel and unkind to me, telling and showing me constantly that we were through, never really were.”

Her words pierced his heart, causing him to sincerely state, “I would have stayed by you, been a good father to our child.”

Why had she not found him first, before her fay mate or Patrick? It seemed he was all she could ever want, yet she knew her heart still largely belonged to another. He deserved better, more from her and if she couldn‘t gift him the entirety of her love, at least she could be honest with him. Placing her palm atop his heart she continued, “Thank you for saying so. Really, I see now that his not wanting me was my own fault. I was childish and clinging, desperately wanted him to be with me so I tried ensnaring him. My efforts angered him and he put a binding craft on me that brought shame to my family. That disgrace, added to the unlikelihood of me attracting any mate and my having a wee nix at my tit, was enough for my family to send me away.”

“Well that wasn't right,” his voice was low and sad as he drew his finger down the slope of her breast, imagining a little silvery-blue winged-babe there.

His compassion urged her on, “Their misrepresentation definitely wasn't. They said they’d agreed to send my babe and me over to a faithful human family to save their babies. The part about the human family's character was true but the rest was a plan of witchery and deceit. All along the comely enchantress had known she was barren, and she envied mousy me, an ill-favored fay, my fertility. The cross of fire and meadow fays, my kin, were able to have multiple babes, sometimes up to a dozen at a time, every six months.”

His member stirred at her announcement, his eyes widening at the thought of her bearing him so many little scamps. “Today, you could've given me a dozen babies?”

Pushing up his t-shirt, she ran her fingers over the muscles of his stomach, “I'm not fully fay anymore so I don't really know. However, when I was, my having that many babes very likely would have happened and that vixen knew my potential. From the start she'd set that rascal on me to get me with child and to steal my lushness, but he couldn't. So she made a deal with my kin to remove the hex from them if they'd give her my babe.”

He grasped her strumming fingers and interlaced them with his own on top of the covers. “Why couldn't your family wait out the spell, be loyal to you?”

“Many humans were dying because my kin couldn't perform their duties. All of my relatives were cursed, hundreds of fays responsible for healing, protection and regeneration within the human realm. The situation was dire and my kin did what they thought best, but they didn't tell me the truth. They were supposed to send my babe directly on to me because he was so young and he didn't have the necessary magic to crossover on his own. However, they didn't, and I had no awareness of their intentions until I'd moved into human form and heard the wind whispering the truth they'd hidden from me. I couldn't go back for him because they'd blocked me from ever going home. My own kin threw me away, betrayed me and gave my child to that wicked woman. She wasn’t satisfied with robbing me of everything I had in my fay life. That witch cursed my human form, jinxing my meadow traits of fertility and abundance so they’d be diminished, leaving me unable to heal members of my human family. She wanted me to die heartbroken, miserable and alone.”

He could smell her sweet succulence, mingling with the creamy nut aroma of her breast milk, as if she were ready to conceive again and he wanted to fill her with his seed. However, he dare not, the time was too soon, and he wouldn't risk her health, not for all the babes in the world because he knew his life would be over without her. Yet he'd want many children from her womb as they grew old together so he needed to understand her plight and he asked, “Is that why you don't have a regular cycle?”

She sighed and arched into him. “Yes, and I think her hex is why I couldn't hold our first babe. She targeted my womb thinking that nesting place was the key to my fertility. However, it's not. Meadow fays are like farmers, we have to invest physical strength, mental stamina, spiritual tenacity and steady showers of love in order to ensure bountiful endeavors. My kind can carry babes in their wombs, hearts and minds.”

“I told Patrick you'd carried more than one child but he didn't believe me, because we saw you miscarry. He doesn't believe the babes are real and told me I had nothing to do with their being here. Patrick believes you used some type of magic to get them,” he professed, lightly brushing her arm.

She was quiet for a long time, the memory of promise flowing from her body making her want to run away and hide her shame. How horrible for the little soul to be left somewhere in limbo. Her fingers clutched Patrick's medallion for strength. She cleared her throat several times before she could continue, “The time was too soon. Meadow fay gestation of the womb is normally six months. The babes we carry in our hearts and spirits can be brought forth sooner though, if the bearer is powerful, skilled and the babes are properly nurtured. Rarely would any fay babe survive at just a month. However, I wasn't willing to let all my babes go once I knew they were trying to leave, felt them slipping away. My powers are stronger now, greater than when I was fully fay, so I put myself to sleep to focus all my energies inward to hasten their growth, shaping them from chunks of the love I'd received from you, bits and pieces from Patrick and an overall aura of adoration from your parents. Susan and Joe were with me, in my beautiful baby-filled dreams, helping me. I guess my love for you and my feelings for your parents manifested into baby Susan. She's real. They all are.” She looked into his brilliant eyes hoping he'd be understanding and accepting.

“Patrick hasn't slept with you in six years, how can any of the babes be his?”

She was momentarily shocked by his awareness of the intimate void in her life and was glad for the cover of darkness that might conceal her embarrassment. With a lightness of voice that wasn't mirrored in her heart and soul she acknowledged, “Little Patrick is not of my womb. None of the surviving babes are. I didn't need Patrick or you to physically mate with me to have those babes. However, I did need one or both of you to want me to have them, care enough that you'd invest time dreaming and imagining the babes into form. So in a way I did use magic to get them here. I used the power of your glorification, your whispered wishes and desires to shape them and strengthen me so I could speed up their maturity and bring them here safely. As far as little Pat is concerned you're more his Pa than Patrick. Without you wanting me to have him, he wouldn't be here. Patrick has never been in love with me. You are. He would never grant me the honor of bearing his child. You did. My successfully having babes, especially another man's, took a great deal of love on your part.” She caught his hand and brought the back to her lips, caressing its contours before rotating his wrist to place a kiss in the center of his palm. She secured her show of devotion in his strong hand by closing his fingers over her kiss then rested his arm across the indentation of her waist.

His arm burned from her touch, his body wanting him to put an end to talking and claim her, as was his right. However, he needed the answers, wanted total honesty from her. “What about Justin? Is he your son or isn't he?”

She touched his hair, liking the slide of the thick, silken strands between her fingers. “I swear his spirit is that of my fay babe. You heard the things he said yesterday. I'd never talked with either of you about the selfishness of my previous mate, but he knew, was trying to expose the truth.”

Extricating her fingers from his hair, he laid her palm against the heavy thumping in his chest. “Patrick says you've tricked yourself into believing Justin is yours.”

She felt his vibrations entering her body, modifying her rhythms and her eyes widened in wonder. “Justin is my babe; I vow our connection on my life, on the lives of his sisters and brothers. He doesn't appear to have retained any fay magic as I did and never speaks of his previous life other than saying he's been searching for me a long time. You fathered him on my eighteenth birthday, January first. Six months later the full-term of fay gestation, he was born to you.”

He pulled Carolina closer to the warmth of his body, kissing her lightly on each cheek before whispering the full measure of his confusion in her ear, “How can I believe you about Justin or the babes? You pretended not to know him at first and told me the babes were here because I'd wished for them, kept calling to them. Patrick believes you picked up on my thoughts and used them to explain away spells you've cast. He says the babes aren't telepathic either, claims you're sending the messages. As far as Justin is concerned, Patrick thinks you've been missing your own fay babe and Justin's need for a mother provided the opportunity for you to fulfill your maternal desire.”

With Patrick's name resounding in her ears, Carolina stayed very still, trepidation undulating along her spine. She'd wanted her treacle bear and Patrick to get along, but she hadn't expected their favorable bond leading to Dylan taking Patrick's word over hers because they'd both been so set on disliking each other, even after they'd become kindred. Anxiously she insisted, “All that I've revealed about the babes and Justin is true. Patrick means well but he's not omniscient.”

While nibbling her earlobe he used the flat of his palm to align her hips to the evidence of his need beneath the cotton of his pajama bottoms. His lips trailed back across her cheek to hover over the pink promise of her mouth where his gravel and smoke voice was let loose to work magic of its own, “This morning I asked for your honesty and you said you'd give it to me. Still you hopscotched across the facts of what happened with those men and the births of the babies. Now I'm telling you, from this moment on I need the absolute truth from you. Because in future, when I discover you've lied to me, even the tiniest, whitest lie, I'll not bed you for a month.”

His voice set her to quaking as if he'd already subjected her to hours of foreplay and the burning and throbbing in her maidenly meadow had her rubbing up against him like a hungry Abyssinian. She'd wither from starvation if he were to withhold his furious and frenzied lovemaking. Hurriedly she agreed, “Okay.”

He lowered his voice a bit more, “'Okay', as in you heard what I said or 'okay', you're on board with the plan?”

She giggled at his words. He was starting to sound a lot like Patrick. “Both,” she replied, growing serious at the promise of his throbbing length he'd released from his sleep pants to press against the 'V' of her want. Her breathing grew heavy and she professed as she moved seductively against him, “God, I never thought I'd love you this much, but I do treacle bear, I do.”

Happily, he smiled. That's the truth he needed to hear and just a bit more. With her undulating from undisguised desire he asked, “Why do you hate Liz so much?”

Her lips pursed as if she'd swallowed a huge mouthful of lemon juice before she answered, “Liz had you and Justin for years and didn't appreciate the wonderful gifts you both were. She sullied our future marriage throne with her perfumed stench, sweat, and feminine secretions. A place that hadn't held a woman before me, that would have always been my haven had she not cunningly outplayed me and secured you in the embrace of her scrawny arms and legs, luring you from me with her feral cries and cruelly thin lips. But most of all, I'd see her struck dead before my eyes and not lift a finger to save her because she had Justin kidnapped and abused.”

He kissed the tip of her upturned nose before confessing, “Patrick already told me about Justin and I already knew the rest. I was just testing you and I'll buy a new bed tomorrow since you're still having a problem with this one.”

She took his hand and lay it upon her mound saying with complete honesty, “I want no other bed besides this one for it’s the place where you lay alone for years, awaiting me, not even once satisfying yourself as some men would when your need for release grew strong. In addition, this comfy nest holds the memory of your dreams, silvery and blue like the fields of lavender you surround yourself with. Most of all, we’ll always keep this mattress and foundation because upon them you've truly molded me into a woman. You’ve had me reckon with issues and feelings that transformed me from a doting sap on bended knee waiting for a man who’ll never be in love with me to a queen, blessed to walk forever at your side with my head held high, our children as the jewels in my crown.”

Wrapping her in his arms, he squeezed her tightly, blinking rapidly to keep the evidence of his intense love and devotion from running down his cheeks. “Sweet glory honey, I'd cut out my heart for you. Ask me for anything and it's yours.”

She luxuriated in the feel of his warm muscled embrace, thinking of how wrong her life could go, of other times when she'd foolishly felt on solid ground only to take another step forward and find herself plummeting from her rickety plank of untrue happiness to the hard, frozen bottom of loneliness and despair. With uncertainty, she stated, “At my house today Patrick divulged to you what he believed to be true about me that he never would have done unless you two have grown extremely close.”

With his hand stroking the curve of her lower back Dylan thought about her statement and admitted, “It's an overall sense we're connected, similar to the closeness I share with my other brothers but greater somehow.”

In that short statement lay the problem, she thought. Taking a deep breath, she told him quietly, “In the morning I want you to unbind yourself from Patrick, tell him being of his family isn't what you want since you made no request of an allegiance with him. Then after the wedding I...” Carolina's words trailed off as she felt his hand grow still.

Kissing the top of her head, he squeezed the plump mounds of derriere and admitted reservedly, “Last night and this morning our disharmony upset you, possibly attributed to the miscarriage. After we returned home with the babies Patrick and I agreed we won't have you stressed about our rivalry so we renewed our bond.”

Her voice was panicky, “Ye took essence and light from him a second time?”

He smiled contentedly, “I did and now our relationship is without animus. We thought our brotherhood would please you as our improved kinship gratifies us. Patrick has given me many powers, the greatest being the ability to see my parents anytime I want. Also, he is extremely attentive and helpful. The whole family is very fond of him, Chris and Vega adore him, he has fathered some of your children and August along with my parents can't stop singing his praises. Patrick can't be set aside like a used Kleenex. Do you expect me, all of us to part from him now?”

Hurriedly she shook her head, not wanting to anger him, “No treacle bear, to some extent the peace between the two of you gratifies me, if you're happy then I'm doubly so and you will further please me this night if you would kindly love me. I am renewed and ready for your amorous attentions.”

Looking into her eyes his voice grew low and burning, “Is that what you want, for me to slide into you, remove from your cheeks their beautiful virgin pink blush or did you really want me to cast Patrick out of my life?”

With a delicate sniff she admitted, “I mind not being a maid again as I know you will be the only one to claim me and if it be solely my choice I would have Patrick not bound to you. My fear is that he'll win your love from me as he did with my brother and parents. When Patrick entered my family they cared for me not as they had before, loved him more than me, the sun shining from his very being for them, with my sister-in-law Clover it was the same, as it will be with Vega and the other Savage wives. I don't want that to be the case with you, want your relationship with him to be like those of Justin, Calder and Callum to Patrick, for they seem to have a great deal of resistance to his charm, as a matter of fact they seem to bend him to their will sometimes. But I will tolerate your union with him since you feel he completes you, compliments our family.”

He lifted her leg to let it rest atop his hip then gently eased the head of his penis into her tight opening, “Patrick belongs with us Carolina, is our family. You must resign yourself to his not being in love with you. Honey, if he'd given you his heart none of the rest of your life would have happened, not Calder and Callum, Justin, our new babies, me or you being forever embraced to the bosom of the Savage Clan. You see the truth, don’t you? That he cared for and protected you, until we could physically meet and I could be indisputably in love with you.”

She felt the bulbous head of his fiery lance resting against her entrance, wanted him to fill her, replace the sense of emptiness that was left by the miscarriage and decades of unrequited affection. Two lifetimes of hollowness, he could temporarily make full if he was to move just a little and she knew his action hinged on her conceding to Patrick remaining in his life. “Dylan I will set my worries aside. I want our family to be as you envision and if Patrick be a beam that will keep us from harm as well as help encase us in warmth and happiness then I shan't object to the alliance between you.”

Pressing his mouth to hers and rocking his hips gently back and forth he tenderly eased past her maiden's resistance and pleasured in her sigh of satisfaction saying against her lips, “That's my sweet honey.” With slow, deep thrusts, he began showing her what needed to matter most, family and its total happiness. His skilled fingers strummed across her skin until he felt her trying to change the pace and he lightly gripped her hips to modulate her movements against him, allowing her only the slightest ability to move, “Let's make this last honey, nice and easy, slow and long. It's how I would have possessed you when you were eighteen, beneath the moonlight with lavender and clover braided in your hair, the smell of horses and hay surrounding you.”

She’d been dressed as he’d said, for her rendezvous with Patrick, at their hideaway; a small farm he'd purchased for her fourteenth birthday present, the place she'd long dreamed would be her home with him. Her fingers trembling she stroked the intent lines of Dylan's face, entangled in the magic web his was spinning, “Treacle bear how do you know of that time?”

He allowed his fingers to play along the fullness of her hips, caressing the swell of her thighs as he continued his leisurely slides to-and-fro admitting, “I asked Patrick to tell me about your first time. I wanted to know what he felt, how he loved you, what made him the best. I wanted to know you, be your first and in a way, now I am. He took me back to that time honey. I could see you, smell your sweet fragrance.”

“Oh Dylan, I wish my greatest love had always been you because you are in love with me beyond what I deserve.” Carolina saw an explosion of silvery stars behind her eyes, felt herself being rolled to lay flat atop him, his gentle motions continuing. She ceased breathing at the sight of the radiance shining from his eyes that lit the entire room and stole rationale thought from her mind and she began chanting in time with his long-drawn-out strokes, “I want you to forevermore occupy my heart and mind, possess my body, free and command my spirit. Treacle bear I long for you to be my desire and satisfaction, weakness and strength.”

Petting her with strong sure hands, he murmured against her lips, “When you were a girl waiting to cross over to womanhood, I would have treasured being the one who eased your lovely body from your periwinkle dress. Gently, I would have touched your unbound breasts, pinched the nipples that stood erect from the chilly air. Your snowy panties would’ve been pulled from your rounded hips by my insistent hands. Then, kneeling before you, I would’ve drank gratefully from your maiden spring, allowing your essence to cover my lips, fill my mouth and quench my thirst.”

She blushed hotly at his words. “Patrick showed you that? Did you see it all?”

He kissed her cheeks, his fingers moving between them to play with the curls at the juncture of her thighs, “I saw everything honey. Because of our bond, he couldn't withhold the details. That night, you told him things in Gaelic, do you remember?”

“Yes, oh yes, treacle bear,” she cried, as an unexpected orgasm slammed into the pit of her stomach, flames of unbridled desire searing the region south of her navel at the realization that he'd watched her unrestrained lovemaking with Patrick.

“Precious girl you asked him to make you his wife for the entire world to behold. You begged and pleaded to be filled with his seed that would take root and blossom into a handsome babe with hair the color of a red-gold sunset and eyes of such uniqueness that bespoke of knowledge beyond this time and place so that he’d be highly sought after by all the colleens in the land. You hoped your son's voice would be musical, pleasing to the ear, so he might sing his future love, and the beautiful babes they would have, to sleep. Isn't that so, my precious honeyed pepper?”

“Yes, 'tis the absolute truth,” she cried, her orgasms coming upon her so rapidly she could hardly breathe though he barely moved against or within her. She knew not what magic he possessed but by all the shamrocks, leprechauns and fairies in Ireland his supernaturalism was more powerful than anything she had knowledge of.

“Then Patrick claimed you, took from you what so many mortal men had craved and would’ve clumsily ripped from you had he not stood forever in their way, incapable of being defeated. With one stroke, he set the ships of our lives on the course toward our ultimate happiness. He gave you total satisfaction, the two of you simultaneously climaxing and then he disappeared for less than a second, fused his being with yours, giving you sensations of galactic proportions that won him the status as your best lover. When he entered your body, he not only pleasured you, but he also whisked away two tiny fertilized eggs that he kept within himself until they could be transplanted. He reappeared, the two of you quaking for such a time that you lost consciousness while lying beneath the glow of lightning crisscrossing the sky, a storm raging outside, elements angered by Patrick who'd claimed what they should have been the recipient of. The force overhead, though denied the glean of your first tender fruit, craved you even more. It wanted to be inside you as a lover and husband, but instead was your secret fondler of that night, touching you as light bathes a beautiful woman, lightly caressing and stroking, filling you with natural brilliance, a radiance that still shines from you to this day. You stirred, felt my light covering you and lifted your arms to embrace me but I had no human form. Filled with anger and jealousy at Patrick being able to have you completely, his possessing you mind, body, heart and soul I too stole inside you to claim one tiny egg that found its resting place within my light. I kept your babe secure until you could make your way home to me and our son, the child of your prayers. Your other two boys, twins, Patrick gave to Ciaran and Clover for neither of them could have children and he'd do anything to make your brother happy.”

Her body still and her mind raced away from what he was trying to have her understand. She wailed pitifully, “Dylan 'tis not right. Please, say no more. Callum and Calder are my brother's, Clover's and Patrick's children and though my heart cries out it has known you for all eternity, in truth I knew ye not until a few weeks past.”

Despite her protests he continued, “That first night in your home I told you I felt I'd known you forever and with each passing moment the impression grows stronger, of us as a circle that is unbreakable. I feel I should have been with you in the history of the fay and human lives you've lead, given you the children you were designed to raise. But in terms of tangible matter I wasn't with you in this life until a month ago though I'd give my voice and hands to have our connection more rooted in history, wish I'd been with you in Ireland for all those years, the recipient of your undying devotion.”

“Dylan tis not wrong to want for us a fairytale. However, you caused me unnecessary ache by treading upon the festering wound in my heart concerning Patrick's standing denial of me. To make me believe he had violated me so viciously, robbed me of more than I can count was cruel and such tactics will not make me love you greater.”

“Carolina, honey, the things I said about Patrick and you that night are true. He allowed me to see the events, has wanted for years to tell you what he'd done. Total love sometimes requires doing what's hard, such as my breaking Patrick's confidence and his doing the unthinkable to gratify your brother. Calder and Callum are your twins and Patrick's. He told me tonight because he was heartbroken about your miscarriage, all the loss and suffering you've had to endure. You’ve been mother to his babes all along, they just didn’t grow in and pass from your body and Patrick’s essence ensures their vitality such that you can heal them even though they are of your blood.”

“I will not believe what you say. Patrick and the others would never be so cruel to me, rob me worse than my fay mate and the enchantress did.”

“Patrick stole your babes away because of his love for your brother, wanted Ciaran's absolute happiness as I want yours.”

Though Dylan remained inside her, pulsating and slightly shifting, Carolina felt vacant, the emptiness in her womb spreading, her vitality waning. In a low terrified voice she demanded, “Why would you tell me this, after I've suffered so already?”

“To prove that I will care for no one in this life more than I cherish you and though I wouldn't separate myself from Patrick I can not rise him above my dedication to you.”

She felt universally rotten, wondering what ailment caused her to repulse those she desired, turning them into monsters and she feared for Dylan and her children, for the inevitable times when they too would be revolted by her nature. Maybe the enchanter’s curse hadn't caused the spillage from her womb. Perhaps the babe had fled of its on accord preferring oblivion to life with an impure creature for a mother, one not entirely of this world, a crossbreed, part throwaway from another. Abruptly she stopped thinking and raised her unsteady hands to his face to draw strength from his warm skin, to ward off the creeping void of frozenness that, if she allowed, would quickly end her suffering and unite her with her lost babe. She was tempted, oh so tempted, but in Dylan's eyes, she saw he prized her and for the moment, his esteem was enough to keep her bound to this world. Softly she spoke, her hands still lying upon his cheeks, “Earlier you said you’d give me anything if I asked. Does that offer still stand?”

In turn, he brought each of her palms to his lips then allowed them to rest once again upon his face. “Within reason honey, yes it does.”

Her eyes searched his as she pleaded, “Then make me forget what you've revealed to me these minutes past. The knowledge gives me only tremendous agony. If you would envision me as I was before, without the knowledge, and I take from you as I did in your study then I will not be stained with the awareness of Patrick's vile robbery and deceit, my brother's and his wife's atrocious wickedness.”

He pressed his lips to the weak pulse at her throat murmuring against her skin, “Honey they all partly acted out of love for you as well. But if you don't want the knowledge I know another way to ease your suffering, wipe the sorrow from your eyes and heart, restore the energized sheen to your being. Carolina, trust me above all others in this life and allow me to give to you.”

“I do treacle bear.”

“Look into my eyes and listen to my voice, see and hear only the truth you want to believe, know the sensations of being loved and cherished by all who matter in your life. Feel completed, knowing I've given you all that you prayed for, will make you a queen, with our many children as precious gems adorning your crown and will give you much more. Simply honor and love me above anyone else and all will be right.”

“I swear on everything I treasure I'll work at loving you as you demand and deserve, as is your right as my king. You’re the only man in my lives who has ever been in love with me and I will honor you,” she pledged feeling him pulsing inside her, the light of his eyes blinding her to reality, bathing her in a dreamy glow where her emotional pain was almost nonexistent, the smoke and grit of his voice obscuring recent revelations. Laying in his radiance, she neared the summit of heartsease, reached out and embraced the sun's golden rays, her love flourishing for him like Super Silver Haze beneath a grow lamp.

He increased the speed of his thrusts up into her, watching her in the silvery blue light shining from his eyes, the absolute ecstasy she was experiencing revealed on her face, her pain and suffering no longer evident. With one sure movement, he rolled her beneath him, sang to her of love’s triumph, and felt her matching his increasing rhythm movement by movement, until the bed quaked and vibrated beneath them. He listened to her sighs, the repeated calls of his name as she desperately hung on to him, riding the waves of their passion. Swiftly he entered her mind as Patrick had taught him, searching for any residue of what he’d told her but discovered her preoccupation was the miscarriage, her mind spiraling around a lone thought, ‘Treacle bear, I’m sorry for failing ye, for being so cursedly infirm of womb’. Her focus filled him with such sorrow that he lost his determination to have them achieve simultaneous release, no longer desired his own satisfaction at all. Yet he continued to minister to her need, pumping into her, touching her tenderly, kissing her repeatedly on every inch of flesh his lips could reach without having to leave his most desired home, the palace between her thighs. He continued in that fashion until she climaxed with a great burst of energy, wriggling passionately beneath him, her legs and arms locking tightly around him to pull him further into her, as if she were trying to fuse with him. With a final spasm, she lifted her head to kiss his lips before lying still, satiated and insensible beneath him. Without delay he began emitting a low hum from deep within his chest that had her quickly falling into an untroubled slumber but still she clung to him, her unconscious need for him giving Dylan hope that she'd one day love him as steadfastly as she did Patrick.

Still hard and pulsing inside her Dylan rolled onto his side carrying her with him, kept her secured against his heart, stroking her brow and nuzzling her spiraling curls. Selflessly he wished for her world to be right upon its axis, full of the magical children she was due, for her complete happiness at all cost to him personally. He found his release then, in the olympian fragrance of lavender perfuming his senses, bringing to him much needed sleep and a silver storm of preservative dreams.

Chapter 18

Carolina silently pushed the comforter from her naked body, easing her legs to the floor. She stood for several seconds looking down upon Dylan’s slumbering, and then leaned over to place a tender kiss on his lips, felt his mouth move beneath hers then grow still before she pulled away. He reached out mumbling her name and she stayed over him, allowing her presence to comfort him until he returned to a deep level of sleep then she silently padded on bare feet over to the closet to withdraw her gym bag and his thick white cotton robe. Donning the warm covering, she knotted the belt securely at her waist. Hurrying she opened the glass doors leading onto the deck, quietly sneaking out into the light of the full moon. Securing the doors behind her, she held on tightly to her bag and climbed down to the stone patio where several woodland animals waited. Together they descended the stone steps leading out into the moonlit fields.

The grass beneath her feet was a thick, dew-damp carpet as she hurried along to gather scarlet and white poppies. Clutching bunches of flowers and the bag to her breasts, she raced to the colossally tall French lavender field, carefully selecting the most efflorescent of the tiny, dark-purple flower spikes and the most silver of the leaves. With her animal friends, she walked into the heart of the evergreen field to clear away a large area of the majestic shrubs.

In the ten-by-ten clearing she made, infirm animal babes were placed at her feet for healing before the parent animals moved away to form a wide protective circle around her. Beneath the bright light of the moon, she knelt placing her bag, poppies, lavender and silvery leaves aside. Unaided and with her bare hands she dug a deep hole in the rich, fertile soil, her tears falling upon the earth like rain. Opening her bag, she removed a green marble trinket box containing equal parts loose soil of Connemara and dried shamrocks, which she sprinkled into the hole. From the bag, she carefully lifted her glittering essence and blood soaked garments and shoes, articles that held the memory and hope of her miscarried babe, allowing the moonlight to cast its glow upon them, her tears mingling with the moonbeams to form tiny shimmering crystals upon the items as she held them to her breasts. The metallic smell of her blood mingled with the scents of poppies, lavender and fertility as she bundled the clothing and sneakers placing them into the earth, sprinkling them with the remaining mixture from the marble container. Ripping the left pocket from Dylan's robe, she laid the pristine white square of cloth atop the mounded treasures, and then alternately layered the flowers and leaves into the warm cavity, all the while sobbing silently as she labored, burying her hoardings beneath the potent earth.

Sitting atop the mound she'd created Carolina wiped away her tears, then extended her arms wide, palms facing up to the night sky. Bowing her back, she lifted her face to heaven, eyes and mouth wide open, drawing in opalescent lunar light and force until her body vibrated with waves of energy. The animals encircling and protecting her lay down reverently. She felt her form begin to pulsate, giving off sterling bands of restorative and enlivening luminescence, brighter than the moonlight itself.

Her mind registered the presence of her family housed in the distance. In the main mansion, the light she cast drew her eldest sons from their rest to the large windows of their room. The radiance soon lulled them back to sleep, their tired bodies shuffling to their beds where they slumbered beneath the incandescent cover of night.

In a large bedroom at the far end of the house, Vega sat astride her husband, spellbound by the white brilliance spiraling in the air. Reaching out her hands, she allowed the luster to caress her naked flesh as her husband steadily thrust in and out of her. Chris paced his strokes so they achieved satisfaction at the same moment. Vega threw back her head, crying out her release and he watched the glow pierce the area of her chest, over her heart. She radiated light, the glow traveling throughout her body to seep from her womanly chateau into her husband’s’ body. He experienced another orgasm, gripping her thighs from the ecstasy, his eyes rolling back, loudly singing out his love for his woman, his life. Vega leaned forward to catch in her mouth his loud, undulating voice, the force of which sent her sailing around the world.

In the nursery, Patrick kept vigil over the babes and paid no attention to the illuminated night, so occupied were his thoughts on documenting the births. However, the radiance still found him, taking the shape of his one true love, Ciaran, who materialized on the sofa beside him. At having him near again, Patrick smiled with a brightness that surpassed the room's glow. They talked companionably about recent family events and all the wonders of the world, their minds mating, twining around each other as sensually as physical lovers.

Next door to the nursery, Dylan continued to sleep soundly. His vibrantly colored dreams filled with images of her and their family ever growing. In the unrestrained state of sleep, he allowed himself to gift his brothers a pure representation of his love that he'd never bequeath any other way. His dream shifted to song, all his children, especially the little ones he desperately wanted back.

The remaining occupants of the mansion, adult and child alike dozed peacefully. Their rest was blissful, each experiencing the most pleasant dreams of their lives. Fairy glitter and moonbeams zigzagged over beds keeping everyone, except Chris and Vega, at peace while Carolina made her atonement.

In the guesthouses, the same level of rest was being experienced by all the households' members except for Dylan's brothers, Frank and Jesse, who were in the process of loving their respective wives Sarah and Hannah, when through the glass patio doors glittering air filled their rooms. The brothers each stopped their amorous attentions to carry their women outside into the night's glistening. Placing Sarah onto a soft padded bench, Frank resumed licking and tasting her, his tongue piercing and stabbing, as her tawny thighs locked against his head keeping him firmly rooted in her moist cavern. At the moment of her orgasm, he felt her pleasured buzzing but didn’t witness the light entering her mouth as she cried out his name but he felt the warmth, saw the glow exiting her slick nest to cover his face, entering his nose and mouth. His release was a whirlpool that drug him to the bottom of reality. Weakened, he fell back, looking up into the brightest moonlit night that he’d ever seen.

A distance away Jesse bent Hannah forward over the patio railing entering her from the rear as they both stared out into the bright night, specks of starlight showering them as he rotated his hips against her, sliding his hands down and up her shapely, toffee-colored thighs, then further along her spine to grip her shoulders. Jesse drew Hannah back, slapping his hips against hers until he fell forward and she reared up rubbing, her silken back against his carved torso. Lit particles whirled around them in a rapid vortex, feeling like hundreds of stroking fingertips against their skin. Spirals of supernatural brilliance weaved through the long, thick fall of her hair, sweeping into her ears like a lover’s breath. She began spasming uncontrollably, the light traveling throughout her body like a forest fire that finally entered his shaft that was buried deep within her heavenly hideaway. He erupted and they burned together, the light causing them to pulse and glow from the inside out, until they collapsed exhaustedly onto the patio to look up into the ongoing spiraling brilliance.

Wishes began filling Carolina's mind and heart, the healing and granting starting to take shape. One after another, the once ailing animal babes took glow from her therapeutic light. Enlivened and healed the young animals returned to their sires who bowed to her preoccupied presence before taking their leave. She continued to sit with her face and palms turned skyward, hearing the earth around her drinking in the moon's light and her brilliance. Against her ears, she felt the flutter of tiny wings and knew she'd filled one of Dylan's desires; regrettably, the other thing he wished was beyond her power to grant. Extending her hands, she allowed the tiny, blond haired, radiant winged fay babes to land in her palms, and then laid them upon the fertile ground before her. Whispering to them, she placed her hands upon the three golden winged ones and crafted them into the living manifestations of Dylan's dream. Within minutes, each fay babe was the size of a healthy, full-term human newborn, their perfect forms clothed in identical silvery-pink gowns, awaiting their presentation, as nighttime explorers entered the clearing.

Carolina smiled at the three Savage couples as they stood staring and speechless several feet away. “I can't rise just yet. But I have something for all of you.” She reached down and picked up a squirming baby extending her toward Sarah. Then she presented the next cooing infant to Hannah. Finally, she lifted the remaining blond babe, the most brilliant of the bunch, and awarded her to Vega. Still rooted to her fairy mound she offered, “All of you wanted a child like baby Susan and now you have one. They are your babies, not mine. I know you will love them as you do all our collective children. Now please return to your beds.”

Sarah and Hannah, with babes in their arms, walked over to her, each bending down to place a kiss on her cheek before returning to their husbands who stood staring at her flickering image with tears in their eyes. Vega passed her baby to Chris then walked to kneel in front of Carolina. She felt Vega's fine boned hands on her face wiping away the tears that had started anew. Vega leaned forward to kiss her tenderly on the lips, their tears mingling before Vega rose to return to Chris and their baby. The eldest of the Savage men started in Carolina’s direction, but was stopped by his wife’s stilling hand on his forearm.

Seeing her glow fading, stony faced, Chris seriously warned, “Carolina gal, you better not abandon Dylan and your kids. If you do, no matter where you go, understand that I‘ll be on your trail and drag ya right back.” Knowing she wouldn’t respond he motioned for everyone to follow him out of the clearing, leaving her to wrestle with her demons.

****

An hour beyond the time she should have returned to Dylan she still couldn't move from the babe's resting place, was too weak and too terrified to stand. She'd given of herself and still her thoughts were dark and dangerous, desperate, as Patrick had declared her to be. Lifting the medallion she wore to her lips, she begged God's mercy for her life of trespass. Placing a kiss atop the diamonds of her engagement ring, she begged Dylan's pardon for being too feeble and foredoomed to bear the babe of his seed. Finally, she crossed her palms over her abdomen, atop her empty womb, crying out for forgiveness from her lost babe, promising the wee sprite her undying devotion and dedication.

Fighting the urge to claw into the earth and bury herself beside her babe's fairy grave, she crawled away from the mound, pulling the bag containing the empty marble box along with her. She forced herself not to look back as the rustling of the evergreens began. The shrubs she’d removed earlier, now transplanted themselves back in the clearing. When she heard the final shrub bore its roots into the earth atop her babe’s resting place, she screamed, her pitiful wail filling the night. She tried clawing her way back to her child’s grave but the shrubs continually shifted into her path, barring her entrance, scraping the skin of her arms and legs until she bled, forcing her to retreat. Crying loudly, she ran the entire distance back to the house.

Shaking and blinded by grief she fell at the bottom of the stone steps. From there, she crawled on her hands and knees up the stairs to the hidden patio. Sitting still for several minutes, she reigned in her emotions in case Dylan was awake. Standing on unsteady legs, she began the climb, up to their deck. At the highest elevation, she had the terrible thought of how freeing loosening her grip would be, to let go and fall back to the stones below, but knew she mustn't and by the time she swung herself over the railing, she was weeping in earnest. Pressing her palm to her mouth, she held back sobs, hurriedly sliding into bed. With her free hand, she drew Dylan’s arm over her, as it had been before her journey into the moonlight, feeling he would keep the darkness at bay. When he snuggled closer to her, softly whispering her name, she gave herself over to his strength and protection. Beneath the warm security of his muscled arm, she silently cried herself to sleep.

Chapter 19

Dylan heard his babies crying. Rolling over to nuzzle Carolina's neck, he was stuck in the cheek by a spike, woolly leaves scratching his skin. The fragrances of lavender and the night were in her hair. Sliding closer, his hand found hers, feeling rough scratches there and the fine graininess of what smelled like dried blood and soil. He wondered what she'd been doing. Touching the base of the bedside lamp Dylan caused muted light to shine over them. She was sleeping on her side, snoring lightly. He rolled her slumbering body onto its back to have a better look at her and the sight of her normally pale complexion now appearing marble white made him catch his breath. Forcefully he shook her until she opened her eyes. “Honey, the babies are fretting.”

Shielding her eyes from the light she mumbled, “You're imagining things. The babes are quiet. I fed them an hour ago.”

Lifting her hand, he saw no blood or soil and her hair was free of shrubbery. “Where you outside?”

Giving an unladylike yawn and a long stretch she admitted, “I went out when the moon was high to bury the clothes I miscarried in.”

Stroking her cheek, he sighed sadly. “I would have gone with you if you'd told me.”

She hugged him tightly. “Of course you would have, but I needed to be alone.”

Holding her face in his hands, he studied her. When finally he spoke his voice was concerned, “Honey, no more shutting me out, the miscarriage, the births and now our baby's funeral. I need to support you emotionally. Will you let me?”

She nodded thinking of her babe lost in limbo. “I'm sorry. I'm accustomed to handling difficult situations on my own. Later today we'll visit the baby's resting place.”

Dylan stroked her hair. “I'd like to pay my respects to our child, but I'm worried. You're unusually pale. How are you feeling?”

She wouldn't tell him of her desperation. “Like I fed five ravenous little mouths.”

He smiled briefly, the crying he still heard robbing him of his light mood. “I'm gonna check on them, the boys and then walk to the stables. Will you come along?”

“I was hoping you'd want to fool around this morning,” she really just wanted him to hold her but she didn't want to appear needy or clinging, the very things that had driven her fay lover and Patrick away.”

“Maybe later. Their weeping is really bothering me.”

“I don't hear anything, not even a peep. Patrick is still in with them. If they were the tiniest bit fussy he'd already be here.”

He knew Patrick was just as concerned about their kids as he was. “You're right. Maybe I'm being overly sensitive. You tell me, should I stay or should I go.”

She was afraid to be alone. “I want you inside me. So my vote is you stay.”

“You're not too tired?”

When he wasn't inside her, she felt empty and the emptiness reminded her of her loss, and the loss made her entertain awful thoughts. “I'll count your vigorous lovemaking as my morning workout. So be sure and make me sweat.”

“When you tell me stuff like that ya gotta know we're likely to be in this bed all morning.” He rolled on top of her, settling his hips between her thighs and then he looked deep into her eyes and discovered her truth, that she feared needing his affection and told her, “Carolina, honey, I'll never feel you want me too much and hold on to me as tightly as you like. Now tell me the truth gal, is the crying I hear coming from inside you because our baby is gone?”

She held his gaze and confessed, “Yesterday and in the early hours of this morning I cried a lot because I desperately miss our child. But at this moment I have no tears to shed.” Resting her palms on his muscular buttocks, she waited for his forceful shove into her vagina and when he remained still and silent above her for several pregnant minutes she questioned nervously, “Dylan, do you no longer want me?”

He could still hear the sound of crying in his head, the volume becoming increasingly urgent and in spite of her denying ownership of the wails filling his mind, he'd not take her. Lowering his head, he placed a chaste kiss on her lips before rolling them to lie on their sides with her wrapped protectively in his arms. Into her hair he softly stated, “Honey, I'll always want you but I'm really thinkin' what you need is for me to simply hold you tight for a good long while. Isn't that so precious?” He felt her nod her agreement against his chest and he clutched her to him reassuringly while trying not to reveal to her that the crying in his mind had begun permeating his entire being.

****

“Mom are you awake?”

Carolina opened her eyes, giving Justin a warm smile. Tiredly she sat up in bed, rolling back the sleeves of Dylan's denim shirt that she wore to keep the scent of him protectively near. She saw that Justin was bare-footed, wearing tattered jeans and a navy tee with 'Mama's Boy' in big block, white lettering screened across its front. Her smile broadened as she reached out and stroked his cheek, “Yes baby, where are Calder and Callum?”

“They're getting dressed. I wanted you to myself. We never have a lot of time alone together and now with the babies finding time for each other will be even harder.”

“I'll always make time for you and me. I won't love you less because the babes are here.”

“I know and not being an only child is great. Did dad tell you he asked Liz to allow you to adopt me?”

“Yes. But she refused.” She checked her sadness so she wouldn't upset him.

“He even offered her money but she said she only wanted us, claims he'll go back to her when he gets stressed. Do you think that's possible?”

Clutching his hand, she assured him, “No. Your dad will never go back to her.”

Justin drew strength and comfort from her touch but he remained fearful, terrified of the hold Liz always seemed to have on his father. “He had sex with her on Sunday. She bragged about being with him. Can't you beguile him so he won't desire her?”

She told him honestly, “I know about them but I'd never charm him. It's wrong.”

Hesitating a moment he then asked, “Worse than killing someone?”

Embarrassment colored her cheeks, “How do you know about that?”

He held her hand tighter. “When you were sleeping I listened to your memories. You were different when you got home with the babies and I was afraid you might be really sick. I wanted to know you were well, that you weren't leaving me.”

She hugged him, stroking his copper and gold hair. “In future if you want to know something ask and I'll tell you and to answer your question, I feel robbing your dad of his free will would be the same as murdering someone. If you remember any of our other life, you know crafting and trickery were responsible for our separation. I suffered being under that sorceress' curses. I lost you, my fay and human families and I fear my ability to hold womb babes. The curse I've lived under is a poison killing off pieces of me bit by bit. That's what malicious magic does. When I was fully fay I tried such skills on the winged one who planted you inside me and the magic went awry and he hexed me. I will never be so foolish again. Now that you've brought up crafting, I've meant to ask, do you possess magic or have knowledge of the fay ways?”

With his head resting on her shoulder, he felt uncertain about the best response to give and finally told her, “Not really. Your fay mate had no interest in me. The enchantress charmed me the day I fell into her clutches, kept me an infant, rendering me unable to escape. But when they died, I was able to shift to my rightful age. Then the little magic I'd learned from watching and listening I used to cross over and find you.” He didn't think confessing that after many attempts he'd finally succeeded in killing them the day before her eighteenth birthday, so he could come to her was necessary. Nor was he going to reveal that he'd longed to efface Liz every day of his life, but he hadn't because of his dad. From the day of his awareness of Dylan Savage, he'd protected him from the poisonous, white powder Liz introduced him to, tried using as a shackle to keep him in the dungeon of her diseased desires. With a heavy intake of breath he continued, “I thought finding you would be easy, but I was wrong. The enchantress had the foresight to cast a wide spell to keep us from reuniting. She cursed your womb, had you banned from our home and crippled me for many years but I could be born to you again if you conceived the moment you lost your virginity and were strong enough to hold and birth me or we could reunite if our paths ever crossed and you loved me without knowing my true spirit as you did weeks ago.”

She kissed the top of his head. “Did you replace the spirit of Dylan's babe?”

He moved out of her embrace wanting to see her reaction when he told her how he came to be human. “I used magic to be born to him because he's special but wasn't destined to find you, his one true love, in this lifetime. He also had the unique ability to be both mother and father to me until I could find you. Mom you're the sole parent of my spirit and Dad entirely created my human form and nature. He can create children of his own, implant them as he did with Liz, birth them himself, or wish them into being through dream and song as he did with you. There's nothing of that fay male in me. I incinerated that part of myself and there isn’t the tiniest shared molecule between Liz and myself. When Liz carried me dad worried that her ways would harm me but I didn't take nourishment from her body. When he implanted me, a sac grew filled with, silvery-blue essence that fed me until I was born. I don't think he knows because he always worried that Liz's behaviors, when I was inside her, would harm me and he only speaks of my coming into the world as an ordinary occurrence. But in reality, he knew my birth was different from other human babes. He paid Liz millions of dollars not to say anything about what she might remember. The same day I was born he let her fall back into her old lifestyle so that she'd forget, think the money was for bearing him a son and the hospital staff don't remember because Gammy Sue and Papa Joe came back and did something to them to protect me and dad. They always knew what he was capable of, accepted that he was more than their baby boy, loved him tirelessly and still watch over him, all of us.”

She stroked his cheek tenderly, “Justin I appreciate you wanting to enlighten me but you must stop out of respect for your father. He'll tell me eventually.”

He nodded. “Sure mom, plus you care for him no matter what. I'm honored by the kindness of spirit you both possess even though initially I was jealous of the time dad was spending with you, but I know his selfishness about you stems from his fear of losing you, like he lost his Ma and Pa, but otherwise he's super generous. All of the people who work with us are compensated with huge salaries, elaborate benefit packages and dad establishes education funds for their children.”

“I like that he's so fair-minded,” she said, her heart filling with pride.

“He's closemouthed too, for instance he's allowed you to believe Tata August is the housekeeper, but she doesn't work with us. She's the surrogate matriarch of this clan and cares for us as all mothers do. Her, Gammy Sue and Papa Joe were bonded from the moment they met. She arrived in their hometown the morning after dad was born, and when they died August was elected to head the family, care for dad especially. He and his brothers provide for her as they would their birth parents. Tata August has no blood-kin, will always live with us until her time comes to reunite with Gammy and PaPa. We'll physically care for her until her spirit is embraced by the light and after we'll always cherish her, see her vessel laid to rest with pride of place in the family crypt.”

“I had no idea. However, I'm happy to learn August is to be as my mother-in-law. I feel silly now, had sensed she lived far away and planned to give her my home so she wouldn't have a long commute,” she admitted with undisguised bewilderment.

Justin accurately read her expression and enlightened her, “Your senses are picking up on the fact that she's like Patrick, able to travel across planes few can even fathom, with the ability to see and hear some things before they manifest. Her powers made her aware of your intentions to give her your home the day you hugged her in the kitchen. Tata August was so excited; she told dad you'd already made the offer to her after she scolded him for not resisting Liz. Oh mom, how happy she was at your genuine bigheartedness. She's been praying and singing to herself about you ever since, cares for you immensely as she does the other Savage women, unlike Liz whom she detested at first sight. Which is more of a reason why I can't accept Liz bearing the legal title of my mother much longer. Any association with her feels poisonous and stifling, insulting to August, Sue and Joe. I feel that way about Patrick too, that your love for him will interfere with us growing into the happy family we're supposed to be. Has he tried making you doubt our history?”

“I know I'm your mother and in time Patrick will come to see the truth. Our ways are foreign to his understanding. He knows much of this world, but naught of our true home. However, he, and your dad, will work tirelessly to get Liz to change her mind. They partly know how much we want your adoption, just not that the legal bond will secure us from any residual fallout from the enchantress' spell. I didn't tell them because I fear they'll behave single-mindedly, especially Patrick. Although his heart belongs to another, he'd shift the universe to keep me safe. I know he'd do the same for you, loves you as a father does a son. Believe me, your fathers will get the deed accomplished while keeping us all protected.”

He lowered his head feeling defeated, “Liz will never agree. She hates me, you and Calder too much.”

Placing the crook of her finger beneath his chin, she raised his eyes to hers, “What has she against Calder?”

“He told dad she stole Gammy Sue's necklace,” he confided in a hushed monotone.

Carolina saw shimmering puddles of indignation in his eyes and silently prayed he'd embrace the love that surrounded him to overcome his hatred of Liz. Perhaps renewing his magic would give him a greater sense of protection from that hag she thought, asking hesitantly, “The things Calder talks about learning from Patrick would you like to study them as well?”

“I can already hear thoughts, read memories too, but music is my true magic like dads is for him and that's enough for me, proves that I'm truly his son and not that evil fay creature's from before. When I was born dad had me spiritually cleansed to rid me of Liz's taint, and in doing so made me mostly human. He had me baptized shortly after I escaped her sickly body, prayed over me for hours and made Uncle Chris my godfather because he can put the fear of The Almighty into anyone. Uncle Chris is extremely conversant on subjects like Ciaran, but he plays down his intelligence so not to alienate people. Plus he's even more special than dad, which is why Vega married him and why Patrick likes him so much.”

She smiled, thinking of Patrick and Chris involved in debate, “I don't doubt it.”

Justin suddenly grinned then revealed, “Patrick was my first choice for a father, but he'd already assigned his heart to Ciaran and when I heard of his plans to father the twins, I found dad and he brought me forth when Patrick first claimed you.”

She flushed at the memories his words evoked. “I figured out the significance of the time of your conception. How did you know about Patrick and me though?”

His eyes caressed her face, “I had glimpses of your human life over the years.”

Feeling exhausted she tenderly stroked his cheek, “Are you ready for breakfast?”

“I'm not hungry. I have things to do before your wedding. I want to look nice, maybe wear something green. Remember the last night we were together, you wore the most beautiful green gown, had braided clover in your hair, your wings glittered fairy pink, with a dusting of pure gold. You were backlit by the bonfire as you danced beautifully amongst the meadow flowers, with me cradled in your arms. The next day was supposed to be the start of our human lives together.”

Her voice was startled, “You remember that? You were my wee Periwinkle then.”

He smiled at her use of his fay name. “I still am and I remember every second of our lives before we were separated.” Silently he vowed nothing would take her from him again. “Why did Tyler and those men want to kill you?”

“Liz doesn't want me to be with you and Dylan. But don't worry Justin, we’re a family, nobody is going to come between us. I took care of those men, Liz is moving to New York, tomorrow your dad and I are getting married and the adoption we both need will happen soon,” she finished assuredly, hugging him close again.

He wanted to believe her about the adoption, about his father's commitment to her but uncertainty had a hold on him. “Mom, wear something green for me today.”

“After you were stolen I couldn't wear the color. This morning I'll order a green dress to wear at dinner tonight. My hair will be adorned with clover too.”

Excitement had him moving away from her, sitting on the edge of the bed. He couldn't wait to see her. “That will be great and I'll wear a white shirt, woven with fine green and gold threads like you made for me.”

“Okay baby. We better both get going before your father gets back from his ride.”

“He's in his study talking with his brothers about the little Susans you gave them last night,” he commented offhandedly, leaning forward to give her a lingering kiss on the cheek before pulling away, “I'll see you later mom.” When he was about to exit the room he turned to her with mysterious quality to his voice, announcing, “Calder and I were wrong. You won't always love Patrick more than dad, eventually you'll love them the same.” Flashing an informed grin, he waved and walked out.

She smiled at his departing figure. For a long time she considered pulling the covers over her head, but she weakly fought the depression that was spreading throughout her being since her miscarriage. Throwing back the beige comforter, she was placing her feet on the floor when Vega, wearing a midnight teal silk dress and matching high heels, walked in, her whiskey-amber eyes bright with panic and fear.

Vega's palms lay flat against her stomach, fingers visibly trembling, “Carolina you have to hurry downstairs. Dylan's been arguing with his brothers about the babies you gave us. Now he's at the door with some men who are asking to see you and Dylan is raging mad.”

Chapter 20

The minute Carolina set foot in the entryway she knew who the men were and why they'd come. She also knew Dylan was on the verge of an emotional meltdown. He stood tense and glaring at the two formerly tattooed men she'd spared the previous day. They were both dressed in dark slacks and short-sleeved pull over sweaters and each of them held a large bunch of flowers. The man formerly identified as 18 had a large healed over burn on the side of his neck where the numbered tattoo had been. When he saw her peeking around Chris' wide body he shoved Dylan, Frank and Jesse aside to approach her determinedly, with a frail little girl at his side. His red rose bearing chum, the bald man she formerly associated with the S.W.P. tattoo, followed behind them. His tattoo had also been seared from his skin, leaving behind raised and puckered flesh on his cantaloupe-sized bicep. She'd painlessly burned them yesterday, searing as much of the hate out of them as she possibly could as part of her atonement.

She stepped from behind Chris to greet them just as she heard Patrick descending the stairs. “Hello Cliff and George what are you doing here?”

Scarred neck Cliff passed the bouquet of white and yellow peonies to a startled Jesse who moved to place them in an empty vase. Cliff meanwhile pushed the little girl, dressed in a butterfly embroidered jumper and bonnet, toward Carolina, “I know we shouldn't be here after what we did yesterday, but will you help my daughter Vienna?”

Everyone was silent, eyes upon the frail doe-eyed child who stood on weak legs staring up at Carolina. Puny little fingers undid the bow beneath her pointed chin and spindly arms were raised to remove her bonnet to reveal a tiny head as bald as the man's standing beside her father. Carolina reached out to caress the child's sunken cheeks, tracing the purplish bruises beneath the child's big, brown eyes, instantly falling in love with the haunting, heart-shaped face. She'd lost her own babe she wouldn't allow this little jewel to waste away. With an unsteady voice, Carolina addressed a perturbed looking Dylan, “The healing will only take a few minutes then we'll talk.”

His voice was calm and sickeningly sweet, “Sure, we're gonna talk. Go ahead and heal the little lady.”

“Would you all leave us?” When no body budged to give the child, and her privacy, Carolina spoke, “Vienna, I need to give you a big long hug, is that okay?” Seeing the child's nod of consent Carolina pulled her close and wrapped her arms tightly around the child's stick-thin frame. There was no dimming of lights or whispered words. The previous moonlit night she’d achieved the maximum level of her powers and she could feel the little girl filling out in her arms, see dark golden brown strands of hair elongating from her scalp until it tumbled over her shoulders on down her back. Best of all, the child no longer held the odor of decay. The fetor had been replaced by the sweetness of orange blossoms and vanilla cupcakes. Carolina inhaled deeply before releasing the lovely little child, standing back to see the rosy blush of health in her once hollowed cheeks. “How do you feel precious?”

The little girl's voice was blissful, “Like I did before I was placed in foster care.”

“That's great Vienna. If you start felling sick again, you have your papa bring you back. Now you had better go before you're missed. Cliff, next time get permission before you just take off with her.” Carolina turned to Patrick, “Get her everything she needs, send a monetary gift to the foster parents so they won't kick up a fuss and please Patrick, make sure Cliff and George come to no harm.” Carolina waited until Patrick inclined his head in silent agreement because he'd always do exactly as he pleased unless he somehow gave his solemn word otherwise.

Cliff, awestruck, took his daughter's hand and backed away from Carolina. Unexpectedly George, who'd made no secret of his lust for her the previous day, dropped his bouquet of roses and fell to his knees to kiss her bare feet, his hands stroking up her naked calves, beneath the heavy fabric of the robe she wore. She met Dylan's gaze as she patted the man's baldhead, whispering to the kneeler, “George you better go. My fiancée is looking really upset.”

He tightened his grip on her and professed, “I'm lost without you, needed you to-”

Cliff, take Vienna out to the car. George will be along in a few minutes,” Dylan ordered dangerously.

The grateful man didn't wait around, leaving his associate to handle his own affairs. Dylan walked over to the bowing man, shaking off Chris' staying hand. “George, go ahead and finish what you were fixin’ to say.”

“Carolina I wanted you to know that I'll never forget what you did for me. I'm a changed man with a clearer head and a lighter heart.” He got nimbly to his feet. Placing his big hands on her shoulders he disregarded Dylan's close proximity and took a wooing tone with her, “If ever you find yourself free of personal attachments I'll be waiting. I need you so much the ache gnaws at my insides.”

Dylan gave an explosive shout, “Am I fuckin' invisible? We're getting married tomorrow and she's got eleven kids-”

“Eight kids,” his brothers corrected in unison.

Dylan gave them a harder look than he was giving the besotted fool holding on to her and gritted out from between clenched teeth, “Eleven kids to care for.” He refocused his attention to the bald buffoon who was now caressing her upper arms, “She'll never be free of personal attachments and if by some chance I die her best friend and I have decided he'll legally take her hand, not you or any other man. Now get your sorry ass out of my house before I rip your arms off and beat you to death with 'em.”

Dylan's words and threats were wasted breath. George had gone deaf the moment he'd looked deeply into Carolina's eyes. He now drew her to him, lifting her off her feet to touch his lips to hers. The hell breaking loose around him had no affect on his single-minded pleasures, the feel and taste of her. Scuffling and shouts, sounds of brute force being applied to restrain Dylan, who was clearly intent on making good his threat, could have been so much gentle air breezing by.

When her lips were free, Carolina calmly restated her position, “George I'm spoken for. Now put me down and go home. Cliff needs to get Vienna back.”

He set her free, smiling at her as if they were the only two people on the planet, “Alright, for now Carolina. But, I'll be waiting, will never give up hope you'll be mine. Stuff happens and when you find yourself without a man at your side, I'll come and comfort you, be the best husband and father I can be. In the mean time though, you should know that woman won't stop. She's already offered a bounty on your head but nobody's taking up her proposition. Me and Cliff have spread the word that if anything happens to you, or your children, untold misery will rain down on the perpetrators.” What happened to Dylan or that other man was none of his concern he thought.

She looked at the three Savage brothers who were still struggling to keep Dylan under control, and then she looked to Patrick who was trying not to appear shocked by the outright unruly bunch thrashing about in the entryway. When she returned her gaze to George she let her anxiousness show on her face, “That's very nice of you and Cliff. Also please remember, and tell Cliff too, not to mention how Vienna got better because if you do I won't be able to help her again and if either of you breaks my confidence I'll be very unhappy. You wouldn't want me to be unhappy would you?”

“No sweetheart I adore you. If-”

With a deafening roar that shattered a nearby iron-framed mirror, Dylan broke free from his brothers and tackled George, knocking him off balance and they both went crashing to the floor. Landing on top of the sprawled behemoth, Dylan delivered several powerful blows to George’s jaw and face before Patrick’s strong hands lifted him off the lovesick simpleton. The fool hadn't even tried to defend himself because he was too busy mooning over Carolina.

Walking over to the sprawled man, she extended a hand to George, helping him to his feet. Quickly she applied her healing touch to the cuts and places on his face that would've surely bruised, setting Dylan off on a tirade of cussing that made even Chris go red in the face. Without further delay, she ushered George to the door where he tried to dig in his heels, but with a strong shove and a wave Carolina got him over the threshold and closed the door. Saying over her shoulder to Patrick, “Will you please let go of Dylan and make sure little Vienna gets back without incident. And Patrick, don't kill those men. You and Dylan will cease your plotting.”

Dylan spluttered loudly, “We... Us...” He tossed up his hands and gave her a look that could have set an entire base of Marines to shaking in their shoes. “No it's you and all the damn lies you tell. You even went so far as to let us see different men yesterday to keep us from really knowing what went on. Now I have an idea and goddamn it somebody's gonna pay,” he yelled causing nearby windows to rattle.

In the face of his rage, she remained calm. “Nothing went on.”

“You didn't sleep with that bald, cock sucking, steroid popping freak.”

His bold profanity caused her face to redden. “It's not nice to name call and what's with all the potty mouth today. I don't want the babes picking up that language.”

Dylan's indignation at her hypocrisy caused him to cough before he could say, “You've gotta be kiddin'. You swear like a drunken pirate and even his vocabulary wouldn't be so filthy, but you're giving me the blues for being rightfully pissed because some ass-wipe is in my house with his hands all over you.”

“I'm going back to bed. When you're in a more reasonable mood we'll talk.”

“No ma'am, we're gonna discuss this and those new babies right now.”

She walked past him saying, “I've changed my mind, I'm going to get something to eat and don't bother following me if you're going to be all sour. Your attitude will affect the babies' milk and when they get all colicky, you're going to be the one up walking them throughout the night, not me. Patrick, stop holding Dylan’s hand and go do as I asked. The two of you are getting far too chummy.”

Jesse chimed in, “You know she's right Dylan all this emotional upset is going to play havoc with your kids-”

Dylan threw a murderous look in Jesse’s direction, his voice low and menacing, “How about I play havoc with your face if you don’t butt out of my business?”

Jesse tossed up his hands, “I was just trying to-”

“I know all to well what you were trying to do. How many times did each one of you do her last night or did those babes just get plucked from the cabbage patch?”

Carolina stopped in her tracks forcing the men to brake abruptly behind her. She whirled on them, thankful to see Patrick missing from the bunch, hoping he was off doing as she'd asked. “Dylan, your mother, your entire family has pretty much spoiled you rotten. Granted your brothers might have stolen a girlfriend or two from you but the one woman you all loved the most set her heart tirelessly on you and your brothers still love you deeply despite the fact you were her favorite. From what I can tell you're everyone's darling, you're even starting to sway Patrick over to your side. But while others may be willing to put up with your mean, selfish, nastiness I've had all of it I'm going to take. I adore you Dylan Savage, but my feelings will not extend to your constant maligning or disrespect. Your mama knew you'd need a tough woman to put up with your nonsense, and I'm the one for the task, because a gentler creature would have a nervous breakdown putting up with your moods.”

“Don't bring my Ma into this. You're the one who has created these problems. You deceived both Patrick and me about those men yesterday and-”

“You and Patrick went snooping around where you weren't invited and you saw what you needed to see. I never deceived you about those men, nor did I fornicate with Cliff, George or Tyler Mitchell. I killed them, then gave them there lives back and unfortunately in the process I guess George became a little infatuated.”

Chris, Frank and Jesse gave her a stunned look, all three asking, “You did what?”

She flushed to the roots of her hair mumbling, “Nothing. I didn't do anything.”

Dylan continued seething, “A little infatuated? He was ready to propose to you.”

“How many women want to marry you? Can you count the number of times a strange woman has thrown herself into your arms professing undying love?”

Frank laughed, “Heck naw.”

Dylan gave Frank a frosty look, “Did anybody ask for your two cents?”

Chris spoke up, “She's right Dylan. We ask our women to put up with a lot from us, and the careers we’ve chosen. So what if Carolina has a fan or two of her own. You've gotta know she'll always be faithful. That's why we didn't make a move on her.”

“Not that I wasn't tempted the night she wore that silver dress,” Frank confessed.

“What about the first day, when she ate that chili? But even back then I could tell she'd beat the hell out of us for getting fresh,” Jesse piped up.

Chris continued, “Yeah Dylan, you and that headcase ex-wife of yours are the only ones set on making her mad. You're just jealous cause you want to keep her all to yourself, which is next to impossible since you've got eight kids and her best friend acts like the embodiment of Casanova when the fancy strikes him.”

Dylan poked him in the chest with his forefinger, “We have eleven kids. Those three new babes are mine.”

Chris slapped his hand away. “She gave 'em to us,” the three brothers growled in unison, staring angrily at Dylan.

The more she watched Dylan she learned his behavior wasn't about jealousy or anger. Her treacle bear was floundering for his very existence because of the miscarriage. Hoping to diffuse the uncommon tension between him and his brothers, she made her body emit the multitudinously beneficial scents of bergamot and roses. In a buoyant tone she set about clarifying the existence of the three new baby girls, “I didn't actually give you three the sweet babes.” Chris, Jesse and Frank looked at her in stunned disbelief so she told the absolute truth, “Well I didn't. Dylan gave them to you.”

Abashed, he flushed, scuffing the toe of his boot against the floor, “I did not.”

Carolina reminded him, “You wished for them to have a baby like Susan.”

Dylan slapped his thigh, shouting at her, “I'm telling you I didn't wish for them to have anything. Why would I? For years, they've had more love and kids than me and even though they knew I wanted more, did any of them have their wives give anything to me? No they didn't. So they're not getting anything from you.”

Her voice was gentle, lulling, “You dreamed for them to have those babies last night, made a heartfelt wish that I answered because you love your brothers, their wives and kids. So those babes are staying with their rightful parents.”

He didn't appreciate her taking their side against him and the pressure in his head and heart cranked up his voice and his level of cruelty, “You should have been so concerned about your pregnancy and you'd still be carrying my seed growing inside your womb. Instead, you miscarried my baby then shamefully ran off into the night to bury the evidence of your disgrace in a field. Even Liz could bear me a real child. I didn't get summoned-up little squealers that I'm too afraid to touch because they might disappear. My brothers can have all of them. If I can't have my blood offspring then I don't want fakes. I wish they'd go back to wherever they came from.”

Chris grabbed his arm and shook him roughly, “Still your tongue. If Ma were here, such talk would send her to her knees a prayin'. What's the matter with you?”

Carolina knew what plagued him, the same thing that was eating away at her and he needed to let the punishing poison of the hex out or risk loosing his life for daring to, however unknowingly, attempt to thwart the enchantress' magic. “No don't stop him Chris. Dylan, go ahead and say what’s on your mind.”

He pulled free of his brother, feeling the excruciating pain in his head and bulging pressure behind his eyes. He swallowed, clearing the tightness from his throat, before he could successfully say, “Honey, forgive me, I didn’t mean the things I said. Since I got up this morning I keep hearing the crying in my head and I'm loosing my grip.”

Never looking away from him, she told his brothers, “You guys go on and see after your wives and families. I'll take Dylan with me to the nursery.”

“No I don't want to go up there, not like this. I'm going for a walk. I'll come up in a few minutes. May God have mercy on me? I feel like I'm possessed. Y'all, of course the babies are yours. I wanted y'all to have 'em just like Carolina said.” Not uttering another word, he left with his shoulders drooping.

Chris tried to comfort her. “We're sorry about the other baby. Dylan didn't tell us. You know he didn't mean any of the things he said just now. He was like this after our parents left. He'll calm down soon. Do you need Vega to come and sit with you?”

She shook her head. “I'll be alright and Dylan will be too. You guys are great brothers; however, it's time you tend to your own families. Tell your wives everything is all straightened out about your babes.” She hugged them each tightly and waved them off.

After they were well out of sight, she went to the kitchen for fresh fruit, hazelnuts, lavender honey, madeleines, Texas chili sauce and milk. She carried the bounty upstairs on a tray and pushed open the nursery door, cautiously stepping inside, not wanting to waken her sleeping brood. Sitting the tray on the table beside the overstuffed loveseat, she walked to the cribs and peeked at her resting fairy-babes. “Your dad is really sad that I lost the other baby and so am I but we need and want you all just as much. Patrick, your brothers and the entire family adore you. Don't doubt that we belong together, no matter what you may have heard earlier. It would devastate Papa Dylan if you went away. When he comes back from his walk, I’m going to have him feed you so he’ll start feeling more connected. I'd like your cooperation, especially you little Dylan. He'll be anguished if he can't feel you care for him.” She kissed each of them on their smooth little foreheads then left them snoozing so she could order a green dress to please Justin. With the order placed, she phoned Patrick asking him to pick up her parcel on the way home. Then she went back to the nursery to have her snack, awaiting Dylan's return.

****

Dylan sat at the edge of the lavender field, the sound of the crying in his head now deafening. To drown out the constant wailing he lay back on the warm earth, covering his ears with his hands and started singing the first song that pushed past the screaming in his head, 'How do you mend a broken heart?' He moaned out the bluesy tune, tears leaking from beneath his clenched eyelids. He sang until his throat ached and his chest throbbed but still the baby's crying grew in volume until even the power of his own voice was imperceptible. Then he resolved himself to mouthing the lyrics knowing he couldn't go home until whatever fracture plagued his psyche had healed.

The feel of a wet rough tongue on his face, the strong smell of doggy breath in his nostrils and a low feral growl made him open his eyes slowly. A large yellow-eyed wolf was snout-to-nose with him and another, standing at his booted feet, nudged his leg with its paw before turning to run into the lavender field. The other wolf sat waiting beside him. Remembering how he'd imagined Carolina that morning, with lavender in her hair, blood and soil on her hands, he guessed the wolves had found the grave she'd dug. He reached out his hand to the wolf and received one of its front paws in return. He then rose to his feet to walk with his animal escort into the field.

Initially trudging into dense plantings, the transcendental, seven-foot tall lavender shrubs gave way and his journey became easier as he moved forward, the crying no longer just in his head, but coming from the direction in front of him. He started running toward the sound until he entered a clearing with, he knew, his miscarried child's grave, now excavated, at its center, with rays of silvery light illuminating the opening. The crying stopped. He walked forward, holding his breath, allowing his eyes to follow the light down and when he peered into the radiant opening he silently, wondrously, fell to his knees.

Reaching into the earth, he lifted and examined a pristine cover of white cotton that had embroidered upon it, in radiant blue and silver threads, a message especially for him, the same one that had heralded in Justin’s birth and his own, ‘De Todos Los Dioses’. Bringing the fabric to his nose, he was treated to vaguely familiar scents, and at the moment he touched his lips to the fine needlework, the blanket vanished from his hands. Returning his attention to the opening, he reached into the luminous hollow, to bring forth a whopper of a baby boy that he immediately knew to be his offspring. The baby's eyes were the exact color of Carolina's; he had the Savage tan skin, combined with, his Pa Joe’s unique, silvery-hair and facial features in perfect miniature. Touching the child in wonder, he forgot about his animal companions until they began growling and pawing around the opening. Taking off his shirt, he wrapped his son securely in the warm fabric before laying him carefully atop a bed of lavender.

Kneeling once again, he reached his hand into the warm orifice, pushing aside moist earth to withdraw one white leathery cocoon, then another. With shaking hands, he laid each large ovate treasure beside the wriggling baby boy to withdraw a pearl-handled pocketknife from his jeans. Carefully, he barely nicked the strong white shell when sweet, spicy, floral smelling air escaped the small puncture. With a surgeon's light touch, he expertly cut away the husk to reveal a baby girl wrapped in bloodstained denim. Smaller in size than her brother, her nose and mouth resembled Carolina’s perfectly. She had burnt sienna hair with streaks of blond, yet everything else about the little goddess was purely his surrogate mother. The precious bundle had the same golden-almond-shell-brown-skin-coloring and dark-cloud-gray eyes of August. After bestowing a kiss on her brow, he placed her inside the warmth of his shirt, beside her brother. Then Dylan opened the last cocoon to reveal another baby boy of the same impressive size as the first. Like his sister, he too was swaddled in bloodstained denim and there the resemblance ended. This babe's eyes were the deep blue of his own with the same silvery bolts coloring the irises. His skin was alabastrine and his hair was the mahogany-red of Callum and Calder's. Not surprisingly to Dylan at this point, for these were the children of his seed, of his precious honey’s womb and heart, he saw that facially, the little cherub was a dead ringer for Patrick. Adding the boy to his cluster of babies, he then returned his focus to the now empty and dimly glowing opening. The earth at the bottom of the cradle rose up, filling from bottom to top, and he could feel the subtle stirring of the wind carrying the familiar voices of his parents, reminding him of his duty. Closing his eyes, he silently offered thanks and devotion to The Almighty.

Done with his spiritual solicitations he turned to see the wolves sitting protectively over the babies. He gathered the alert little trio in his arms and rose to his feet. With the wolves leading the way, he walked the distance to the front of the house and used his elbow to ring the doorbell. When his three brothers opened the door, he fought hard not to laugh at the shocked looks on their faces. “Where's Carolina?”

Chris looking very relieved answered, “She's upstairs in the nursery with Callum. We were just heading out to find you. Where the heck have you been and where did you get those little critters from?”

He grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Not to sound rude, but none of your business and you can bet I won't be wishing for y'all to get any like 'em. Now each of you gets to hold one of 'em for a few minutes while I go and take care of some things.” Not forgetting the debt he owed to his animal companions, Dylan turned to thank them but they had disappeared.

Chapter 21

Freshly showered and dressed in clean clothes, Dylan stood in the doorway of the nursery, “Callum, son, where are your brothers?”

Callum considered his father and answered casually, “They said they had things to do before the wedding and that I needed to stay here and help mom.”

Carolina gave Dylan a look of concern, “Where have you been?”

“Just a minute.” He resumed his talk with Callum, “Thanks for helping out. Your uncles are waiting with a surprise for your mom. Go down and y'all can bring it up for me in a few of minutes.”

“Sure dad.” Callum left with a wave toward the sleeping babies.

Dylan stepped inside the room and closed the door. Walking over to where she sat curled up on the loveseat he knelt down beside her, felt her hands in his hair, moving over his face as she leaned sideways to kiss his brow. “You had me worried. I tried getting into your head, but all I could hear was the crying you kept talking about and when it suddenly stopped I asked your brothers to go look for you.”

Capturing her hands, he kissed her palms. “I'm all better now. Am I forgiven?”

The brilliant sparkle in his eyes told her he was indeed past his crisis. However, she had to see for herself that he was able to physically care for their children. “If you'll hold the babes I will. They need you as much as Justin needed you when he was born.”

“I know they do.” He kissed her and stood up. Walking over to little Dylan he carefully lifted the sleeping child to his shoulder, nuzzling him tenderly, inhaling his pleasing baby fragrance. Placing the still sleeping baby back into his crib, Dylan went down the line picking up and cuddling each of the remaining babies before returning to take a seat beside a smiling Carolina. “I can never apologize enough for the things I did and said earlier. My grief at thinking we'd lost the baby finally overtook me and I behaved like both ends of a mule. I know I can never undo what was done but I want you to know how really, really, sorry I am.”

Comfortingly she held his hand. “The way you were feeling earlier, I understood, so you need not have apologized. You were so excited, talking to the little dote and making plans, naturally you'd take the loss really hard.”

Adoringly he told her, “I want you to have something that was very special to me and my mama.” He lifted the loose ends of his denim shirt to retrieve a wide, flat, jewelry box from the front of his waistband.

Shaking her head at him she touchingly professed, “I already have the most special thing your mother possessed and that's you. I don't need anything more.”

He knew she was serious, had always known that gifts and tokens weren't what she needed. “That you accept and wear this symbol of commitment will please my parents, August and me. The only way Liz could take possession of this necklace was by murder, and for years she lied to me about having it.” He opened the rich black velvet box toward her and heard her catch her breath.

She swung her legs to the floor and lifted the heavy pink diamond necklace from its bed of black silk. The air stirred around them and the stones sparkled the distinct pale pink of Rosa 'The Fairy'. “Oh Dylan I can't-”

He shushed her. “Honey, don’t say no, please. If you reject this symbol of commitment, then I‘ll forever question your devotion to me.”

Carolina knew he was right. She could hear Mama Sue and Papa Joe telling her to accept it, to accept their boy as he was, with all his strengths and imperfections. Silently she told them she would and their voices floated away as the air calmed. Still holding the necklace, feeling its warmth and energy she exclaimed blissfully, “It's lovely.”

Taking the necklace from her, he instructed, “Turn around.” He waited while she swiveled and lifted her heavy fall of hair. Sliding the V-shaped necklace with its large central teardrop stone against her smooth skin he fastened the platinum safety clasp at the base of her neck then began kissing his way down her back.

Hearing the door swing open, then approaching footsteps she giggled and tried squirming away saying, “Dylan, behave yourself.” She attempted to turn but his strong body blocked her movements.

Keeping her captive in the boundary of his arms he nuzzled her neck, trapped her earlobe with his teeth, whispering, “Honey, turn around, your other gifts are here.”

Carolina did as he instructed. When her eyes fell upon the babies in the security of his brothers' arms she pushed him aside and rose to stumble forward. She knew they weren't the babies he'd wished for his brothers and all five of her babes were present, but these new pixies were familiar, calling out to her mind and energy. She held back, not wanting them to vanish. “Where did you get them?”

“Hold on a second.” Dylan stood and walked over to his brothers and a grinning Callum, taking one baby at a time to bunk them with their siblings before saying to his helpers, “Thanks guys. Y'all can go and Callum call Patrick, tell him the news so he'll stop by the superstore on his way home.”

“Sure dad.” Callum quickly glanced at his uncles then hurriedly asked, “Can Justin, Calder and I name the new babies?”

Dylan's brothers voiced their displeasure, “Hey squirt, we want to name 'em?”

“I called dibs first. If you snooze you loose, that's the California rule.”

“Boys that's enough. Callum you and your brothers get first names. Chris, Frank and Jesse y'all get middle names. Now go. I still need to talk with Carolina.” There was a bit of good-natured grumbling from the older three as they playfully chased Callum from the nursery.

As soon as they were alone, with wide-eyes, Carolina asked him again, “Dylan, where did those babes come from?”

“From you. They're your womb and heart babes. I was out by the lavender field and a couple of our wolf friends led me to them. They were crying to come home. Apparently, the wolves could hear it too. When they got me to the site, our silver-haired boy was nearly dug free. The other two, a boy and a girl, rested beneath him. I got to bring them all forth myself,” he boasted.

She hadn't possessed the power to save them. She'd tried everything. Recalling what Justin had told her about Dylan having the ability to have children without a mate she asked solemnly, “How did you do this?”

His eyes never wavered from hers. “I reached my hand in-”

“No, I mean why are these babes here?”

“Because we're their parents. Isn't that all we need to know?”

“Of course.” She studied him for several seconds unable to determine if he knew what he'd done by dreaming as he had the previous night. Giving him a bright smile, she momentarily clutched her medallion then caressed the diamond teardrop at her throat. Staring down at all of her babes she felt her breasts expanding, filling out more with the nourishment they would need.

He kissed the top of her radiant hair. “Come, let’s leave them to sleep.”

She touched his arm. “Dylan, promise me you’ll never leave me.”

He drew her into his arms, “I promise.”

Lifting her face to his she lay her palm over his heart, feeling its strong steady beat, “Tell me you'll always love me.”

Holding her gaze, he caught her hands in his, leading her from the nursery back into their bedroom where he lustily confessed, “Honey, I'm not gonna just tell you; I've got my mind set on a very thorough demonstration.”

She flowed into him, her body growing hot beneath the intensity of his look. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she beckoned him with smiling eyes and parted lips. Sighing, “Oh treacle bear, I can hardly wait.”

****

An hour had passed since she'd fallen asleep and still he embraced her, breathing in her warm creamy, nutty fragrance, listening to the soothing buzz of her snoring. He thrilled in the perfect fit of her body against his own, fighting hard against his desire to make wishes for more babes so soon. He wanted to focus on meeting her needs proving how much he cared for her, that he was worthy as a friend, lover, husband and father. In little over a month, she'd given him more than he could have ever hoped for and he'd given her very little in comparison, but he'd give his life to prove just how much he loved her and their kids.

The cellphone vibrated on the nightstand beside him and he hurriedly reached back and pressed a button to silence the mechanical humming of the slim device so Carolina wouldn't be disturbed. The phone's lit panel displayed the caller identification and he immediately answered, “Hey son?” Listening intently he gently unwrapped himself from around her, rising stark naked from the bed to take the call in the bathroom. His tone was even, “Calder where's Justin?”

In a huge white stucco and glass house scant feet from the lapping waves of the Pacific Ocean, Calder stood shaking and frightened, the cold press of steel against his temple, but he kept his voice steady, “Dad you have to come and get us. Justin's tied up. Liz says she wants the necklace back and then she'll-”

Dylan heard his little boy cry out and the sound of crashing. “Calder? Calder?”

“I'm sorry he can't come to the phone right now. He and Justin are napping,” Liz's voice was mocking, bitter and cold.

Dylan looked in the mirror above the basin seeing the flinty set of his jaw and the brilliance of heat lightning in his eyes. “What do you want?”

Her voice was hard-edged, “You know what I want, and the necklace back of course. Those diamonds should have always been mine. Your hillbilly mother never appreciated its value. Where, the hell was she going to go in a rare diamond necklace? A collector once offered me a hundred million for the single teardrop stone. With that kind of money, I could have bought that shit-kicking little town you grew up in and a few more. But to me, it’s priceless and I will not be parted from what should have always been mine. Do you understand?”

“Yes Liz,” he acquiesced, tasting bile.

“Now that's the sweet little boy I married, so agreeable.”

“Is there anything else?”

“I want a very public announcement that you plan to remarry me and not that whore you've been shacked up with.”

“We'll fly to Vegas this afternoon and notify the press once we're there.”

“Dylan?”

“Yeah Liz?”

“I've always loved you. That's the reason I killed your parents. They were going to take you away from me, from the life I was creating. Then you stopped wanting it anyway. That's why I divorced you but I'd hoped you'd start craving what we had. I need to know you want that lifestyle again or don't bother coming.”

He had to dig deep to access the accommodating, co-dependent tone she preferred, that was uncharacteristic of him aside for his association with her, “I want what you want, and if you guarantee the boys are unhurt, I’ll bring along something to kick off our celebration.”

Churlishly she stated, “I told you they're napping.”

“Fine, I'm on my way.” He hoped he sounded meek enough.

“How long will it be until you get here?”

“Give me an hour.”

“You've got thirty minutes. Come alone and don't call the police. If I think you're trying to trick me I'll kill that bitch's brat,” she finished forcefully.

His hand tightened on the phone. “You know me Liz I'm a man of my word.”

“That's the problem Dylan; you use to say we'd always be together. Now look at me, left alone to fend for myself. This is all your fault,” she yelled.

Dylan heard the sounds of a scuffle then a single gunshot before the call was disconnected. He wasted no time getting dressed, blue t-shirt, tattered jeans and worn white running shoes. Calmly he walked over to the bed and kissed Carolina until she stirred, looking up at him with a dreamy expression. “Honey, I've got to run an errand. I'll only be gone for a little bit. You go back to sleep.”

“Where are Patrick and the boys?”

He caressed her cheek, “Patrick hasn't gotten back yet. The boys are out practicing, like they always are. They'll be up here later with you and the babes.”

Her fingers moved to touch the cool smoothness of the large diamond teardrop at her throat. “Please put this in the safe.”

Dylan moved her fingers away from the necklace. “No honey. Now get some rest.” He kissed her one last time before leaving the room and hurrying over to the nursery. Pushing the door open, he saw Callum sitting on the loveseat with his guitar. Approaching the boy he asked, “Son can you call Patrick the way Calder does?”

“No, sir,” he lied, feeling bad about the untruth but he and his brothers had agreed and he'd follow through with his role however bad he felt about deceiving Dylan.

“Can you hear your brothers right now?” The child shook his head and Dylan took a deep breath then exhaled slowly. “Would you know if your brothers were hurt?”

Wanting to somewhat ease his father's distress, Callum answered, “Sure.”

Dylan's voice was calm, “Are they?”

Callum replied reassuringly, “They're not seriously hurt. I can feel their heartbeats, strong as usual, but faster. Calder has a headache and his chest hurts a bit. Justin's blood pressure is up pretty high though.”

Dylan's voice held gratitude, “Thanks son. I'm going to get your brothers. You go down to the media room and hang out with your cousins and I want you to stay away from your mother until I come back. If you see Patrick, tell him to call me.”

Callum continued to play his part inquiring, “Is something wrong dad? You're not upset because Patrick told you Calder and I are really mom's and his children are you?”

“No son, everything is fine,” he said walking over to kiss all of the still sleeping babies before extending his hand to Callum. “Walk down with me. I was thinking tonight after dinner I'd give you and your brothers another driving lesson.”

Callum was in mid-stride beside Dylan when his feet failed him, his voice sounding anxious, “Aren't you having a bachelor party?”

“Driving lessons with my three oldest kids is the best celebration I could ever hope for.” He silently walked the rest of the distance to the entryway with his child where he reminded him, “Hide out from your mom and tell Patrick to phone me.”

Callum knew he'd be contacting Calder as soon as their father was out of earshot but he said to Dylan, “Alright dad. Is there anything else you need me to do?”

Dylan shook his head and watched the child hurry off before he turned away from the door to walk purposefully to the gun room, where he entered, leaving the door ajar. Opening the safe, he withdrew a medium-sized leather shaving kit. For several seconds he glared down on a part of his past with Liz, unsure why it was even still in his possession. He reached back into the safe and withdrew the keys to his electric blue SSC, calculating how much time he'd need to get the short thirteen miles to the beach house to free his sons. Liz had given him thirty minutes and a law-abiding citizen could make the trip in about twenty. He'd be there in ten. The clicking of high heels on the stone floor behind him caught his attention.

“Dylan where is Calder? My Constance is driving me bonkers cause she can't find him.” Vega, standing behind him, could tell by the tenseness in his back that not all was right. She was well acquainted with every line of his body and knew this wasn't the relaxed, sometimes volatile Dylan. He was angrier than hours earlier, in a frighteningly quiet fashion.

He pushed the safe closed and turned to smile warmly at her. Even preoccupied he could appreciate her beauty, the smooth golden skin and whiskey-colored eyes, her thick hair waving down over the shoulders of her romantic dark red dress. Dylan's voice was unstrained, “He's off with Justin someplace, probably getting stuff ready for the wedding. Let Constance know, as soon as I see him, I'll give him her regards.”

Seeing the black case in his hands Vega's eyes searched his but she didn't state the obvious, that he was hiding something. Instead, she touchingly confided, “She says he asked her to marry him. As a matter of fact she told her dad she accepted and that they've set the date for her eighteenth birthday.”

He moved to take her arm and steer her from the room, allowing the door to lock after them. His voice was filled with amusement, “And just how did Chris take that?”

She placed her free hand on his arm, silently requesting him to be still. When he stopped his strides she turned to him with concern in her eyes and voice, “Quite well so you better bring Calder and Justin home safely. All of you had better come back in one piece cause I don't think any of us can survive without y'all, especially not Carolina.”

He patted her hand. “Don't say anything to anyone.”

Though she thought it unwise, she'd do as he asked. “Take Chris,” she pleaded.

“No. This is my problem. I was dumb and blind enough to marry her, now I'll straighten her out.” Placing a brotherly kiss on her cheek he assured her, “I'll see ya later.” He walked away with long determined strides intent on having his boys return to their mother unharmed.

Chapter 22

From the doorway of the media room Patrick sent out a mental command for Callum to silently leave his group of cousins and come over to him. Walking ahead of his eldest son it was only after they were a good distance down the long hallway that he voiced his concern in a somber tone, “Where are your brothers?”

Callum swallowed nervously. “They're at Liz's house.”

Patrick's mood turned as black as his clothing. “What are they doing there?”

The boy flinched then quickly answered, “Liz took Calder when he was out picking flowers for Constance. He called Justin for help.” Callum wiped his sweating palms on his blue t-shirt wishing he were in Calder's place instead of facing their father.

Of the twins, Callum was so like Carolina that Patrick struggled to maintain his righteous anger. “Why didn't you tell someone?”

“Justin said not to,” he replied meekly.

Patrick thought Justin was turning out to be a handful, reminded him of himself when he was set on a cause, resolved and dangerous. “How did he get there?”

Callum wished he'd paid more attention to his lessons on how to dematerialize. In a voice barely above a whisper, he revealed, “By casting a spell.”

Patrick's eyes bored into his son's, looking beyond his elements of Carolina and his tone grew harsh, “I'm in no mood for games. How did Justin get to the beach?”

Callum raised his right hand, “He has magic, both black and white that he rarely uses. Calder and I knew from the minute we were reunited with him that he possesses the arts to a greater degree than we do. He's powerful like you. That's how Calder and I have gotten better in our music and he's taught us some of our ancestral fay ways. When he can, he uses his skills to protect mom, like yesterday when he called the animals so the reporters would leave before she arrived home.”

Patrick admitted to himself that he'd been wrong about a great number of things having to do with Gingernut, Dylan and the kids. Additionally, he was faced with the fact that Justin was causing him significant distress. His look grew in severity. “What else has he done?”

Callum cleared his throat before stating, “When he was a captive fay he learned magic that would’ve allowed him to be born to mom again. He waited, hoping you would be his father. But when he was certain you weren’t in love with her and didn’t intend to have her birth Calder and me, he used his powers to be born to Dylan. Justin also used magic to search for mom over the years. When he escaped the kidnappers he simply thought himself away from them and eventually to mom's office building, but he deliberately allowed the men to hurt him because Justin believes good can come from suffering. He wanted us all together, knew mom would remember and reanimate him if he died, hoped his death would make her agreeable to seeing Dylan again.”

Patrick finally realized just how driven love for Carolina and Dylan was making the boy, determined and reckless. “What is Justin planning?'

Callum shoved his sweating hands in his front jean pockets and rocked back on his heels. “He was going to kill Liz like he did the couple who betrayed mom in their homeland but Calder convinced him not to. So Dylan went to bring them home a few minutes ago and he wants you to call him.”

Giving the child a concerned look he asked, “If Justin got there on his own why can't he bring Calder back with him by the same means?

Despite Patrick's patience so far, Callum knew he’d be infuriated by what they’d done. Worried, he tried stepping back but was unable to move. Looking into the rising flames of his blood father's eyes Callum blurted the truth, “Justin doesn't want to. He says Dylan has to prove he deserves mom, sacrifice everything for her, if not as brothers we've decided we won't allow mom to get married, sort of, like you did when she was going to wed that other guy. Justin has convinced us that if mom continues to be denied a strong mate who'll help her actualize balance of spirit, she'll one day choose not to exist. He is angry with you and Dylan as much as he is with Liz because in the past few days neither of you have shown her the respect she deserves. First Dylan slept with Liz and then you, knowing mom yearns for you constantly, set your desire toward Vega with no regard for her presence. Justin mostly, but Calder and I too believe your being here interferes with mom being fully committed to Dylan.” Callum, hearing familiar footsteps approaching, didn’t elaborate further.

Carolina walked up behind Patrick, sliding her arms around his waist to give him a squeeze and a peck on the cheek before addressing her son, “Callum, where are Calder and Justin?

Callum saw the flames rapidly extinguished in the depths of Patrick's eyes but still felt compelled to admit what he and his brothers had been up to, “Mom they're-”

“They've gone with Dylan to get a surprise for you. Although I see he's already given you one, his mother's necklace.” Patrick ruffled Callum's hair, to calm, quiet and assure him that she need not be made aware of the trio’s doings.

Carolina touched the smooth stones at her throat, felt their comforting energy. “This was so unexpected and I'm honored but I want it secured in the safe. Will you unfasten it, please?”

Patrick looked at the glowing teardrop hanging far above the gold medallion he'd given her and felt great palpitations in his chest. In his countless years of existence, he'd seen the one-of-a-kind stones before gracing the imperial throat of an empire's great mother. Even if he'd been so inclined, he couldn't remove the necklace from Carolina. Dylan Savage, keeper and hider of many deep secrets, or his father were the only two beings who'd be able to release her from the charmed collection of pale pink gems. Patrick shook his head at her. “No. He wants you wearing it.”

Carolina unable to resist the feel of the guttiform shape at her throat was absently caressing the smooth jewel as she watched Vega, her daughter Constance and a little guest stroll over to them. Carolina cast a suspicious sidelong look at Patrick, carefully attending to his expression as Vega raised his hand to her lips. He smiled warmly at the beautiful woman and bowed gallantly to her equally stunning daughter.

Happily, Vega announced to him, “Chris needs to talk to you about your Calder and our Constance. But first I found this little cookie sitting all by her lonesome.” Vega drew Vienna forward to stand along side Callum.

Carolina beamed, reaching out to comfortingly stroke Vienna's peachy cheek. With a raised eyebrow at Patrick she inquired, “Was there a problem?”

He hunkered down in front of the little girl. Taking her face in his hands, he asked softly, “Orange-blossom, would you like a snack?” At her nod, Patrick patted her lustrous brown hair before rising to address Vega, “Please see to her for me. I'll be there after I talk with Carolina. Callum you go too, keep Vienna company.”

The boy was set to object, “But I-”

Patrick's gaze forcefully swept his son from head-to-toe until the teen hung his head shamefully. Callum and his brother's were no match for him, no matter how angry or justified they might believe themselves to be, and he wouldn't tolerate their cheekiness. “You will attend to Vienna until I say otherwise.”

Callum raised his eyes apologetically. “Yes sir.” He took the little girl's hand, walking off with Vega and Constance following behind them.

In a tone pitched to deter her from argument, Patrick told Gingernut what he felt she needed to know about the fates of Vienna's dad and his associate, “I relocated Cliff and George.”

Her eyebrow rose higher, “Are they alive?”

He remained perfectly still, holding her gaze. “At my behest, they were transported to the southeast coast by Dr. Bixby. Earlier today, the residence Vienna was assigned to burned down with the owners inside. The children who were staying there were safely assisted from the facility before the blaze started.”

Carolina was surprised; she'd believed the men fairly reformed. “Why did Cliff and George burn down the foster home?”

He gave her a penetrating look. “They didn't. Vienna willed the blaze to start. The owners had been making her and the other children sick in order to get more money from the state. Therefore, after she was healed, Vienna decided to stop the couple from ever hurting anyone else. Some of the children died because of the maltreatment they’d suffered. I conversed with the departed little angels myself when I allowed Vienna to see them so she'd calm down, know they were safe and being cared for.”

Carolina stated sadly, “I understand about the home and its owners, but why isn’t she with her father?”

Patrick continued staring at her for a few seconds unable to believe she was so senseless about what he was telling her. He watched her fingers leave the teardrop diamond to clutch his gold medallion that lay mid-breast atop her purple blouse and he felt a somewhat familiar sensation in his chest. “Cliff can't raise her now. When you healed Vienna, I think feeling the loss of your babe caused you to change her so she's now very much like us, needing to balance the scales of justice with lethality. Therefore, when I was getting birth certificates for the new Savage babes I had Vienna's natal records altered to reflect you as her mother and me as her father. Additionally, those horrible social services files detailing her life before she came here no longer exist in mind or actuality. I know she won't replace your other baby but you'd already made her yours and I thought my assuming paternity of her would please you. So now, after a fashion, I've given you an additional child of our own to fuss over. I sent Cliff and George off without the ability to recall her or anything that even remotely has to do with you, Dylan or your combined family.”

Taking Patrick's hands in hers Carolina allowed some of her energy to flow into him, just a little, but enough hopefully, to keep him from changing his mind about allowing Cliff and George to live. Shifting her voice to the lyrical quality of there emerald homeland she stated, “Thank you for bringing Vienna back to me. Of course we’ll nurture her, but I want you to give those men their memories back and if Cliff wants to see her, he can. But, for the obvious reasons, George shouldn't ever come here again.”

Patrick felt her warmth sneaking into his system, rubbing up against his stiff and ancient soul trying to bring about some flexibility and he grinned at her furtiveness. “For the safety of the entire clan, what's done will not be altered. You may not see the rightness of my decision now but later you'll know I've acted with your supreme protection in mind. I know I didn't want you running about executing our enemies but pregnancy and motherhood has made you entirely too bighearted with them.”

She heard his voice as if it were coming from far away and fragile parts of her consciousness began to crack. When he smiled blithely, the regrets about not being his legal wife resurfaced, although she knew she had to let go of her lifelong dream for the sake of her future with Dylan. Trying to shake feelings of longing, rejection and the deep, persistent cracking sound in her head, she gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek, refocusing, hoping he wouldn't be upset about the new babes. Delicately she offered, “I appreciate you taking care of the birth certificates but we need a few more.”

“I got three for the little Susans and in case some busybody reporter starts nosing around I'm having medical records prepared for you lovely ladies.”

“You're extremely efficient. Nevertheless, we need three more. Come on, I'll show you.” Carolina hurried him along to the nursery where she pushed open the door expecting to find her eight sleeping babes but what she discovered stunned her. Perched atop each of the five cribs was a songbird, three yellow warblers and two scarlet tanagers. Hesitantly she walked over to peer at the colorful little creatures. They fluttered their wings and flew three to one of her shoulders and two to the other. She felt Patrick at her side when the remaining three babes shifted into an indigo bunting and two more scarlet tanagers, flying to land atop her head. Carolina reached up to capture the rascals from their merry pursuits in her hair, scolding tenderly, “Get back in bed the lot of you. You're far too young to be experimenting with your fay skills.” Her winged offspring tweeted happily before flying back to their resting places, immediately transforming back into their human selves.

Patrick was dazzle by their transformations and being ever protective counsel her, “You should be sure to keep the windows closed so they won't fly off.” His doubts about the babies were assuaged; however, questions about Dylan Savage were mounting.

Walking over to little Patrick he lifted the wee dote from his crib. Holding him tightly, he sniffed a not so sweet smell, answering aloud the babe's request he heard in his head, “I'll sing later. Now you need a fresh nappy.” Adeptly Patrick set about changing the little devil, dodging the forceful stream of urine the mischievous imp deliberately sent his way. He cleaned the babe, and then applied a cotton diaper to his little bottom, before tucking the scamp back beneath the covers. Patrick’s actions were carried out as if he'd spent a millennium cradling children. Looking down the row of cribs, Patrick's visual survey stopped and he stared impassively for a long while at his face in miniature on one of the new babes, his chest further tightening with all the emotions he dared not give voice to least he compromise Gingernut's future as her eldest son's accused him of. Using tremendous self-control he resumed counting and classifying all the babies, asking her for verification, “There are eight in total, a girl and two boys, new today?”

At observing his fatherly manner with baby Patrick and the pride he tried concealing over the new male infant that resembled him astoundingly, both of whom he should have given her himself, she wanted to scream, demand to know why he couldn't be in love with her. She'd not known first blush, romantic fairness in either of her lives. Perhaps if she hadn't been such an easy wench, her fay mate might have stayed with her longer than the time required for dew to dry in Death Valley during the height of summer. Perhaps, Patrick would’ve legally married her to claim what she’d stupidly and eagerly given away. Maybe he would’ve respected her more and viewed her as an appropriate mother for his children, had she not spread like room-temperature Kerry Gold butter on a hot scone. Willing herself to calm down, she inhaled deeply then allowed the arrested breath to escape her slightly parted lips to fill the room with the spicy-sweet perfume of 'Fragrant Cloud' roses in an effort to soothe her own ruffled feathers, and she wished it would rain, so she'd be temporarily cleansed of her awful desire for him. Inhaling deeply and feeling a bit more under control, she answered, “Yes. Their older brothers and Savage uncles will name them later today. Dylan told them it would be alright. You don't mind do you?” At his negative head motion, she felt bad that he wouldn't get to name the child that was so facially like him, but resigned to her life never working out in a manner that made sense she asked breezily, “By the way, did you pick up my dress?”

“Of course, I bought things for Vienna too and thanks again for accepting her. Now I must dash, there's still a great deal to be done before tomorrow's ceremony and Gingernut, will you please accompany me on Monday to the hospital to heal the other children? I know some of them won't survive beyond that without your attention.”

The thought of helping children lifted her spirits. “You couldn't keep me away. In fact, I'll change into a Peregrine and fly over to the hospital before Dylan and the boys get back. I'll ask Callum and Vega to mind these mites while I'm away.”

His jaw dropped before he composed himself. “You can change into a falcon?”

“Sure. The babies inherited their shifting gene from me and their beautiful voices from you and Dylan. Unless you've hidden talents of transformation you've never shown me?”

“At this point anything is apparently possible. Like the three new babes, they are the ones you feared lost yesterday but Dylan brought them back to you?”

“Yes, from the lavender field where I buried my loss beneath the moonlight.”

“So their existence is due to your magic, not his?”

“I know my treacle bear is totally responsible for our babes being back in this world, but he doesn't accept the credit.”

Patrick laughed heartily at her term of endearment for Dylan, shaking his head in wonder at how much in love she was. The emotion made her pulse with a vibrancy that threatened to captivate him. “Why did you never truly reveal yourself to me Gingernut?”

“At first I thought the truth would interfere with your loving me. Then there wasn't any point because our relationship wasn't such that you'd ever need to know more. You weren't going to marry me and-”

The strong fragrance of roses continued swirling around him and he envisioned her dressed in the bridal gown they'd chosen, his voice growing raspy, “We are wed.”

With a sad look, she denied his claim. “You never even thought of giving me children so there weren't any fairy babes flying about that needed explaining.”

Patrick studied the miffed tilt of her chin, unable to discern if she truly didn't remember Dylan telling her the real identities of Callum and Calder’s parents or if she was simply pretending not to know in order to shield herself from the pain. In either case, he longed to right the wrongs between them. In a rich velvety tone, he told her, “Gingernut I'm committed to you. What Dylan said this morning is true. He and I agreed that if something ever happened to him I'd legally wed you.”

In utter exasperation, she tossed up her hands and when they came down, they landed at her hips, her stance angry and ready for battle. She couldn't believe he'd be so beastly. “You'd legally marry me for him but not because you adore me and want my happiness? I care not for the plan nor do I want the two of you teaming up to make decisions for me. And I warn you, Vega better not become ripe with your seed. I fear I have little patience left for your arrogant disregard,” she finished with a pout, crossing her arms stubbornly over her bosom.

Patrick assayed her obstinate manner and announced strongly, “Dylan, my little brother, feels there's no other man on earth good enough for you and our offspring, so in the unfortunate event of his passing I will legally wed you, end of discussion.” Reaching out he pried her stiff arms from across her chest and forced her to keep them at her sides. “Now I'm leaving. The sick children were taken to the local community hospital.” Sliding his arms around her waist, he gave her a tight squeeze and a quick kiss on the forehead, felt her relax and knew her pained mood had passed.

With a last look at the babies and a wink at little Pat he strolled from the nursery. Still in motion, a few feet away from the door, he pulled out his cellphone and dialed Dylan's mobile number. The phone rang five times before connecting with an answering service. Patrick no longer wasted time walking. He closed his eyes and willed himself to where he wanted to be, standing behind Vega, his gentle, statuesque intime. Placing his hands on her shapely, silk covered hips, he shifted her aside to wave at Callum, Constance and Vienna. He then whispered to Vega, “I'm off to get Dylan and the boys. Carolina is going out for a few minutes. Will you and Callum sit in the nursery with the babes and little Vienna until she gets back?”

Placing her hands over his she agreed soothingly, “Sure Patrick, don't be long.”

****

Dylan lifted Calder's still form from the pale wood floor to an equally colorless sofa. The child's breathing was deep and even. Running his fingers through thick mahogany curls, he felt a lump the size of a golf ball on the right side of the boy's head. Aside from that, outwardly, he appeared unharmed which is more than Dylan could say for the teenager lying dead a few feet away. Sunlight pouring through the windows illuminated a bullet hole in the young man's pale gray shirt, pomegranate-red blood pooling beneath his torso was shockingly garish against the white flooring. Dylan assumed the unfortunate corpse was Liz's former boyfriend and he thanked the good Lord for watching over and protecting his boys. Despite the teen's misdeeds against his family Dylan quickly, but earnestly, offered up an intercession.

Pulling a white cashmere throw from the end of the sofa to cover Calder, Dylan took painstaking efforts to tuck his little boy securely within the fabric's warmth, arranging unruly locks of hair across the boy's pale brow. In a low voice, he addressed the still child, “Constance is waiting. You have to be okay so y'all can have a proper goodbye. She told Chris you proposed. He didn't have a conniption, so I think in a few years you’ll be gettin’ hitched.” After placing a tender kiss on Calder's forehead Dylan picked up the leather shaving case and rose to his feet.

He walked up the staircase, the glass paneling beneath the metal handrail allowing him to see Calder for a few seconds more before he stepped onto the landing, heading in the direction of Justin's bedroom. Pushing open the door that stood ajar, he strode into the dove white room, with its white and pale blue furnishings, to see Liz sitting on the bed while Justin was forced to sit on the white floor beside her, silver duct tape binding his hands and covering his mouth.

One of Liz's hands idly stroked Justin's hair while the other held a gun against the thigh of her white leggings. “Have you done away with that bitch's mouthy brat?”

Dylan wouldn't react to her abuses. Instead, he'd move the scenario along with the full intention of getting his children away from her without their suffering further injury. In a deep, steady voice, he told her, “The plane and limo are ready. But you have to release Justin. Do you want people saying bad things about you?”

“I'm a wonderful person,” she stated angrily, continuing to stroke Justin's hair, plucking out, by the root, each ginger strand she encountered, before pushing him roughly away to stand unsteadily on spiked blue and white heels. She wiped her runny nose on the back of her hand, “Where's my necklace?”

“I have it and I brought something else for you.” Dylan lifted the black case into her line of vision and her expression immediately grew more wanton, a salivating, drug yearning smile distorting her lacquered face. Silently he held out his hand, wanting her to give him the gun but she held tight to the grip, approaching him with sharp-set eyes. When he felt the hard press of the barrel at the center of his chest, he didn't shift his gaze from hers. “Are you ready Liz?”

“Give me my necklace first. I want you to see me wearing it so you'll realize no one else could ever compliment the beauty of those stones. The night I took it off your mother's body, she’d been wearing it with a horrid, pink polyester gown, that unfashionably long blond hair of hers braided up like some old spinster. Earlier that day when I'd insisted she give me the diamonds she'd had your father throw me out. But I went back after I was sure that eerie August was long gone. I used your keys to get in and lace their sweet tea with sleeping pills. Then later, when I was sure they were both unconscious I smothered that cow to death and pried her fingers from my prize. Even in death she tried to keep me from having what was mine.”

Calmly Dylan advised, “Don't speak to me about my parents anymore. Now free Justin so we can get about our business.”

She gave him a heathenish smile, full of perverted self-satisfaction. “I got my necklace, your son and you. I wanted your father too, could feel the immense sexual energy he possessed and I constantly tried to seduce Joseph, long before I killed him and your mother. Your dad had been so wrapped up with his bible thumping, cake-baking wife and that dark mistress of theirs, that he, just like your brothers, never wanted anything to do with me. By taking his life though, I made him mine in a way that he could never belong to either of those harpies he lived with. However, your father, nor your overweening brothers, ever really mattered. You on the other hand are the world to me. Your pharisaic mother, August and I all had that in common.”

White heat was rising inside him and he forced his temperature down, channeling arctic cold to say, “That's done, unbind Justin so he can pack while we make up.”

She glared at Dylan, “That fat whore you've been fucking has corrupted him.” Liz whirled, shaking the gun in Justin's direction, “He came here with a bag full of money and other things, trying to buy me off so I'd agree to stay out of your life and allow that slut to adopt him.” She lowered the gun, walking over to Justin, angrily ripping the tape from his mouth, yelling, “Tell your father what she’s done to you.”

Wincing and rubbing his stinging face with his bound hands Justin gave her the evil eye, demanding murderously, “Don't talk about my mother.”

Dylan gave the boy a look of warning as he slowly walked up behind Liz. “Undo his hands so you and I can go down the hall.”

“Of course we will, but not yet.” She walked away from them, around the bed, hoisting into view a child's denim duffel, banded stacks of hundred-dollar bills spilling from its unzipped opening across the comforter. “Where did this money come from, you little pantywaist?” When Justin didn't answer, she flicked off the gun's safety and aimed its shiny barrel at the center of Dylan's chest. “Goddamn it, answer me,” she shrieked.

Dylan started to answer, “I gave-”

“Don't lie to protect him. I've blinded you for so long that you don't have the ability to see what's right before your eyes. She's sleeping with him, giving him things to buy him and his silence. But she'll never have either of you,” her voice shook with fury.

“Patrick gave me that stuff so you'd go away,” Justin yelled.

She tossed back her head and gave a frigid laugh. “That beast wouldn't give you anything valuable for me because he wants me dead.” Stomping over to Justin, she backhanded him across the face. “Since you seem to have elective amnesia maybe this will help you remember. Leveling the gun at Dylan, she pulled the trigger.

Justin heard the gun's loud blast, the flash from the muzzle appearing super-bright to his fearful eyes. As if in slow motion, he could see the bullet moving through the air in his father's direction and he closed his eyes, willing the shot to go astray.

Dylan watched the projectile speeding toward him and inhaled deeply. With an imperceptible lowering of his lashes, he welcomed the impact, mentally sighing as the searing heat and steel passed through his body, further resolving him to what he had to do. He didn't flinch, stagger or take his eyes from hers. She'd already killed his parents and her boyfriend; he didn't doubt she'd kill them all. “Liz I gave him that stuff years ago. He apparently went in the safe this morning. Why would he have to steal what we have so much of? You were my wife. He's only presenting you with some of the uxorial wealth commonly bestowed upon the Savage women.”

Her look was mercenary. “You're telling me this stuff is mine?”

“Yes.”

She waved the gun at him, “So, where is my necklace?”

“In the car.”

“Go get it, unless you've given my diamonds to that roly-poly, redhead, and if you have I'll kill your precious son right now, then I'll shoot you again, leaving you barely alive so I can drag her ugly, big butt, back here and kill her while you watch.”

“Send Justin, the jewelry box is under the passenger seat.” He raised the leather kit back into her field of vision, saying enticingly, “This won't wait.”

She looked from the bag to Justin and back. “He can go but if he's gone longer than a couple of minutes I'll make you sorry.”

Dylan thought if that was her goal, she'd already succeeded. In a soothing tone he stated, “He's a good kid and he knows I want him to be with his real mother. Undo his hands so he can be on his way and let's go to your bedroom.”

Laying the gun on the bed within her hand's reach, she picked up scissors from the nearby white nightstand, to cut between the circles of silver tape confining Justin's wrists until the strong material gave way and the child yanked the adhering pieces from his reddened skin. Liz raised the gun as he got to his feet and shooing him from the room she menaced, “If I have to go down and get you I'll shoot your father again before I do, then I'll put a bullet in each of your hands to teach you not to cross me.”

Dylan stepped between them still holding the bag containing the heroin for her to see, luring her attention away from his son. “Put on your wedding dress. I remember what I thought that day, that I'd never seen any woman look quite like you.”

He spoke over his shoulder to his son, “Hurry along Justin. Don't keep your mother waiting. We're going down the hall.” He wanted Justin to take Calder and get back home to Carolina. The sound of the child hurrying from the room was Dylan's cue to take Liz's free hand and escort her along the colorless walkway to an equally nondescript bedroom, except for the huge, espresso finish, four-poster bed he’d tied her to in the past, but not this time.

He walked her over to the closet, flung open the doors and stepped inside. His vision sited in on the garment bag he knew contained her scandalous wedding gown. With a vicious tug, he removed the hanger from the overcrowded rod and stepped back into the room, closing the closet doors behind him. Passing her the long, gold sack, he opened the leather kit to hold up a small bag of heroin. “Get dressed while I cook this.”

Her eyes were glued to the powder filled plastic. “We should wait for Justin.”

Dylan knew her words contradicted her true desire revealed by her unconscious scratching at her upper thigh. “You can wait if you want. I'll just get things ready.” He was walking to the bathroom when he heard a knock on the bedroom door and he quickly secreted the heroin back in the leather tote. Turning, he watched Liz approach it with the gun aimed in her unsteady junkie's hand.

She swung the door wide, allowing Justin to walk in holding a flat, black velvet jewelry box. “Open it,” she demanded excitedly.

Justin looked at his father while raising the lid, revealing to Liz and a wide-eyed Dylan a pink diamond necklace of the design she murderously craved. Shoving the imposter items at her he bellowed, “Here, take the only thing you've ever cared for besides his money.”

Liz snatched the necklace, hitting Justin across the face with the gun, smiling at the trickle of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth. “Shut up. Go pack your bags and wait in your room.”

“No. You've gotten all you're going to get,” Justin decried, wishing he'd killed her years ago when he'd passed through her toxic birth canal.

Liz swung the gun back to strike him again but Dylan caught her arm in an iron grip, peeling her resisting fingers from the gun's handle before releasing her. Deftly he removed the clip and cleared the chamber before tossing the items into the corner near the unlit fireplace. “Go pack all your stuff Justin and don't come back in here. I'll let you know when we're ready to leave.”

“We can't live with her again. You're supposed to marry Carolina. Call the police, I'll tell them Liz kidnapped Calder and killed Tyler.”

Liz laughed contemptuously, giving a maleficent grin. “You're an idiot. The minute I'm arrested I'll tell the media all sorts of scandalous details about my life with your father, a part of his world he's always so careful to protect you from.”

Dylan allowed a series of calming musical notes to chase the sound of thunder across his mind before he spoke tranquilly to Justin, “Please go son.”

Liz hated the boy, how Dylan was always babying him. “Justin, I'll tell everyone about you too. How would you like for all your fans to know what happened last week? How many girls will continue to idolize you when they hear the details of what you did with those men? Did you tell your father how you cried for him, prayed for strength and deliverance like he taught you? But nothing worked, did it, you little fairy?”

“Go Justin.” Dylan tried holding his son's attention with his voice, willed him to stop paying attention to her malicious jaw jerking.

Justin shut out his father's words and focused completely on Liz, asking in a voice so old it creaked with centuries of existence, “How do you know about Friday?”

She snickered lewdly. “You're my business. I know every detail of what they did to you and if you don't start quietly cooperating so will the rest of the world. Your father and the entire Savage family will be destroyed by the media. You'll be lucky if the cesspool your daddy's inbred ancestors sprang from will even welcome all of you back.”

Dylan touched Justin's arm, seeking his full attention, “Wait in your room.”

The boy stood staring past his father at Liz, then yelled, “You're a lying tramp.”

Again she laughed. “You're the liar. Are you afraid of he'll learn all about what you did? I arranged the entire scenario, was there, so I can easily give him details. Did you know your father is homophobic? So imagine what he must think each time he sees you, whenever you touch him. He'll never look at you the same way.”

For the second time since arriving at the beach house, Dylan let his true emotions show on his face, allowed his son to see his total devotion. “What Liz is saying isn't true. I will always love you. Now go.”

Liz continued mocking Justin, “He's just saying that so you won't run off crying. Tell him Justin. At what point did you start enjoying what was happening? Did you feel excited with the first or second man? Or was your pleasure only realized with Tyler? I saw longing in your eyes every time you looked at him. But he's dead now because that bitch turned him against me.”

Justin knew all along she was vile and her statements had him wanting to end her life with a single wave of his hand. His tremendous rage loosened the control he normally kept over his many selves, human, fay, wizard, idol and juggernaut, causing his voice to shift to an intensely malefic timbre, “My mother is the only reason you still breathe. Defame her ever again and I'll rip the poison heart from your chest while it still beats. Any platonic feelings you saw me display toward Tyler were because I was deceived into believing he wanted to be my friend. Suggest anything else and I'll make you eat the words until they choke the life from your lie filled mouth.”

Dylan stared at the orange flames and white bolts battling for dominance in his son's eyes. He was firmly closing the door in Justin’s face to stop him from making good his threats when he felt him push against the wood with a strength that rivaled Patrick’s and heard his son say in his normal teen’s voice, “Dad, promise you’ll never abandon me.”

Dylan felt ripping pain in his torso for his child who at that moment was so much like Carolina that he could smell Ireland wafting from his skin. “Son, you know I won't.”

Justin lifted his eyes to his father's and through a dense cloud of uncertainty begged, “Tell me you'll always care for me, no matter what I do or am.”

Dylan reached out a steady hand to smooth red and gold strands of hair from his boy's forehead, then to wipe blood from the corner of his mouth. “I'll treasure you forever. Now please go and wait.” Dylan was pushing the child out of the room when he saw Justin's hand momentarily contact the black leather case. Not wanting his son to ever know what the bag contained, Dylan moved the kit away from him, finished getting him across the threshold then closed and locked the door.

Turning to Liz, Dylan lightly instructed, “Put on your rings, the dress and your necklace of course, then climb up on the bed.” Not waiting for a reply from her he walked into the bathroom tossing the leather case onto the counter. Automatically unzipping the black tote, he removed bags of white powder and the paraphernalia needed to ready the injections. Quickly he shook heroin into a spoon then added a precise amount of water before heating the mixture by igniting a lighter beneath the spoon's bowl, allowing the concoction to bubble. Picking up a syringe, he removed its cap then drew up all of the cooked solution. He repeated the processes three more times all the while listening to her chat away casually, while rustling out of her clothes and into her serpentine wedding dress. She acted as if she wasn't one of the worse sorts of loathsome creatures to ever inhabit the face of the planet or the bowels of perdition and as much as he silently cursed her, he condemned himself forever bringing her into the circle of his family.

Liz stood in the doorway gazing at him dreamily and called out, “Dylan?”

He looked up into the mirror, above the white basin, in the dove white bathroom, seeing her black shrouded form, stiletto-black hair flowing around her shoulders like so many poisonous mambas waiting to strike. Liz’s sneering lips were painted red, to match the blood-color on her talon-like nails and her almost colorless eyes were trying for an innocence that was comical in light of their history and recent events. He thought she was truly ready for their trip, their mutual journey further into the Hell they'd created years ago. He smiled glacially at her reflection, holding up the readied syringes before turning to follow her into the bedroom.

He watched as she stood next to the bed, inching up the hem of that revolting sheath she'd worn on their wedding day. When her dress rode high around her hips, he placed the flat of his left palm beneath the impostor pink necklace and smiled to himself before pushing her roughly back onto the mattress where she spread her legs wide, wanting him to see her hairless mound with its large red, Opium Poppy tattoo. He pulled off his belt before sitting beside her to tightly loop the thick black leather around her clammy upper thigh, across fresh and fading track marks, until the veins stood up. He didn't bother with swabbing her skin, he simply placed the needle against her vein, waiting.

Her voice was needy, “Put it in me like I taught you.”

Dylan thought about his mother and father dying because of her greed, about precious August being so lost and alone without them. Images of Justin, abused and ravaged, were a rapid slide show behind his eyes, his imagined cries and pleading filling his ears. He jabbed the needle into Liz's skin thinking about what she and her boyfriend had probably done to Calder and he pushed the plunger down shooting enough naturally modified heroin into her vein to kill even the most habitual of users, but he only heard her long, pleasured sigh. Pulling the empty needle from her thigh, he rammed the next full syringe into her as visions of his brothers and their families filled his head. He saw the faces of his loyal staff, Callum and for some reason the little girl Vienna, swimming before his eyes and he loaded Liz's vein with the second lethal dose of heroin. Yanking the empty cylinder from her leg, he tossed the used syringes into the corner near the gun. Standing up he looked down on her, seeing the glazed over eyes and the slack jaw. Leaning over, he placed one of the remaining syringes at the artery on the left side of her neck, pushing aside her weakly flailing hands he drove the needle in, seeing his new life with his eleven children. The thought of loosing any one of them made him shoot her up with the third dose. Finally, he laid the last syringe at her throat and ripping the fake necklace from her unresisting body he flung it aside. For once, his hand faltered as he sat recalling different times with Carolina, how she'd looked the very first day holding the pink cake box, the way she'd smilingly welcomed him into her home and body. An album full of snapshots was quickly, mentally leafed through, of all the ways he’d seen her, both real and imagined, since they’d met, . The one that was his favorite was the way she’d looked when he’d given her the babies from the lavender field, all wide-eyed and wondrous, touching the hand that bore his mother’s engagement ring to the pink necklace that shone with her inner light, a brilliance that wouldn’t survive if Liz did. With one smooth stroke, he injected her with the final dose and he could feel Patrick's presence drawing near the house. Dylan watched Liz, legs sprawled, convulsing and gasping for air, before her face turned sea-glass blue. He listened as the life left her, the death rattle clattering around in her hollow chest like old rusty cans tossed and tumbling in the breeze. Conditioned to show respect for the passing of a soul, he lowered his head in silent prayer that she be shown mercy. Then he smoothed the black dress back down to her ankles and lowered her lids over her dead eyes.

He shut his mind to the potential reality and to his parent's concerned voices. Now, his thoughts were preoccupied with one entity, Carolina, hoping he'd be back in her arms soon. What he'd done had really all been for her safety and happiness, his feelings for her exceeding undying sentiment. His was a turbulent and consuming love that had finally been unleashed for all to see.

****

Justin quickly descended the stairs. Walking over to the body lying on the floor he gave a silent prayer for Tyler, then without hesitation he slid his left palm over his right, right over left and caused, Tyler Mitchell Warren to temporarily disappear from the world and from the memories of everyone he'd ever encountered except for adult members of the extended Savage clan. Liz's former lover would hang in limbo, awaiting the outcome of Carolina's future. If positive, Tyler would return to earth as the transformed man Carolina had helped him to be. But if his sweet fay mother was denied happiness he'd make Tyler's absence permanent, then set about ridding the universe of everyone who'd ever betrayed her, human, fay and intergalactic alike.

Justin strode over to kneel beside the sofa where Calder lay. Placing his palm over his brother's injury, he felt the lump and kept his hand there until the goose egg disappeared and his little brother opened his eyes. Justin saw the bright flames in their depths and knew Calder might not remember Tyler but did remember Liz and what she'd done to him and he volunteered, “Dad has her upstairs.”

Calder shuddered, blinking rapidly. “Patrick is pulling into the driveway. He's upset because we haven't answered him. He knows about you, Callum told him.”

Justin gave a cavalier shrug. “This will be over soon. I know we agreed I wouldn't kill Liz but I had to increase the potency of that poison she uses because her tolerance is so high. We just need to wait a while and he'll be done with her, then I'll do the rest.” Taking Calder's hand Justin assured him, “She won't ever hurt you again.”

Calder nodded looking trustingly up into Justin's eyes. “Can you hear dad?”

Justin shook his head. “Can you?”

Calder replied disappointedly, “No.” The doorbell rang and he released Justin's hand. “It's Patrick. You better let him in, but you should know Callum says Dylan's not having a bachelor party so the rest of the plan won't work.”

“I know Patrick, there's going to be a party. You just don't want the plan to work because he's your true father. But don't forget I have his essence as well, waited for years for him to marry our mother and get her with child so we'd be united in this world as the triplets they were meant to have. Instead, he used her like a sex slave. As her sons, we're obligated to ensure her happiness and Patrick has proven he’ll cause her ongoing suffering. We must be of one mind if we're to restore the balance to mom's life. Tell me I have your support as I do Callum's and let's be done with this matter so tomorrow our parents can marry and we can move forward as a happy family. I cannot act without unanimity amongst us three.”

Calder knew Justin was only thinking of their mother as was his charge, but he was tasked with thinking of their fathers, seeing holes in the plan that could scar both men terribly. “I know of the three of us, you are the most supernatural and talented, possessing the most qualities of mom, Dylan and Patrick. I need to be positive that the result is only Patrick’s going home for a short time to be with Ciaran and Clover. I won’t have our fathers warring and mom more torn between them. Brother, swear, that for all involved, this will work out for the very best and you have my support.”

“I give you my word,” Justin lied, because he planned to have Patrick out of their mother's life forever. Hurrying over to the door he answered the silent request for entry vibrating through the heavy glass doors Dylan had himself etched with an underwater-scape full of seahorses, fish, flora and sunken treasure. Instead of touching the black cylindrical handles, Justin used the power of his mind to sweep the door inward so the always monochromatically attired Patrick could enter. He did so at a relaxed pace, while twirling his key ring on his index finger. Justin's voice was cocky, “Hi Patrick. Would you like a drink? Perhaps a bit of Irish whiskey?”

Patrick looked at the scamp that was supposed to be a blending of Dylan and Gingernut, but he finally saw himself in the child's eyes. He knew a small measure of his energy in any human could result in a volatility of nature that if not properly schooled would mean trouble, and this youngster was a pressure point, which is why he’d always invested a great deal of time educating Calder and Callum. Sniffing the air, he fixed Justin with a spartan look until the boy stepped backwards in undisguised fear. “Calder get over here,” he ordered still staring at Justin. When Calder stood along side his taller brother, he seriously warned them, “I know of your discontent and while I appreciate the need to protect your mother, I'm telling you I have no patience right now for mischief-making. If you have been foolish and harmed Carolina's intended I will deal with you severely. Now tell me who died in this house today.

Justin knew Calder couldn't answer so he reported, “Liz killed her boyfriend because he was trying to protect us from her.”

”Where is Dylan?”

“Upstairs with Liz,” they quickly answered in unison.

Patrick wouldn't easily accept anything Justin told him. The boy had an agenda, and being Gingernut's undisciplined offspring he'd tell any number of lies to protect himself and reach the conclusion he desired. Not shifting his eyes from Justin's he magisterially addressed the other boy, “Is that the truth Calder?”

In an unsteady voice filled with blind trust Calder answered, “If Justin says that's what happened then it's the truth. I remember Liz was mean to me before he got here, hit me with a gun, but I don't recall anything else until Justin woke me up.”

Patrick could sense the child hadn't suffered as he or Justin had but he was still very concerned because Liz's depravity knew no bounds. “What did she do to you?”

Calder grimaced, “She bugged me, said there were things she could teach me.”

Patrick nodded in understanding. Looking about, he couldn't see any evidence of a corpse. Nevertheless, the reek of death was strong. “Where is Tyler's body?”

Justin admitted, “I erased him from human existence.”

Patrick inclined his head respectfully to the child. “Let's go and get your father. Carolina is worrying where you all are.”

They ascended the long staircase, Patrick in front and the two teens bringing up the rear. He didn't need to ask the direction of the bedroom because he could smell the black-hearted witch's decaying flesh. When he arrived at the door he knocked, calling, “Dylan, come out. Carolina has grown impatient and any more delays, I fear, will set her on a course to find you three.”

Dylan cracked the door slightly open. He peeked out before droning, “Patrick you come in. Boys, y'all wait downstairs.”

Patrick looked over his shoulder at the boys, sending them a clear message in their heads. He then looked back at the door saying calmly, “Dylan I'm on my way in.” Patrick pushed open the door with the boys following closely behind him.

Dylan glared at the trio. “Justin and Calder go wait like I told you.””

“No they stay and we finish this,” Patrick overruled Dylan. Pushing the two boys forward he let them see Liz's lifeless body. To Justin he said, “What you did to the boyfriend you can't do to her because she's too public a figure. My advice is that you get rid of all aspects of her, body and soul; then create a new Liz, one who’ll be a bit more tolerable. Next week have her check into rehab. There she'll receive a spiritual calling, deciding to do missionary work in an obscure country and there she'll die in a single-person mishap. Can you do what I'm suggesting?”

Despite his well thought out plans, Justin grew nervous in the light of Dylan's presence and averted his eyes, saying to Patrick, “Sure.”

“Then do it,” Patrick forcefully ordered and when Dylan made a protesting sound at the tone he was taking with the boy Patrick held up his hand, a signal for Dylan to defer to his expertise. Patrick watched intently as the sunset-golden haired child approached the bed looking down on the pale-blue corpse from head to toe.

Justin formed a three-dimensional picture of Liz in his head before casting his eyes onto the mirror above the fireplace at the far end of the room and her image appeared there before a form identical to the once living Liz emerged from the wall to stand looking at them with a bored expression. She wore a skimpy black top, tight, black leather pants, black stilettos and her lips and nails were fire engine red. Justin shifted his attention to the corpse on the bed and with his palms facing him he rotated his wrists back three times causing the body to become vaporous, and then float away.

Patrick walked over to Justin clamping him reassuringly on the shoulder. “Finish son, and let's go home to your mom.”

At that moment, hearing the fatherly pride in Patrick's voice, Justin almost regretted what had to be done, but he remembered Carolina's years of crying and emptiness and with a sweeping motion on top of his left palm with his right hand, he sealed their fates. All items associated with his father's actions with Liz vanished. The bullet wound in his dad's shoulder and any other surface injuries that Liz had caused them vanished. Chagrined, he looked at his father and muttered, “We can go now.”

Dylan wasn't surprised by Justin's display of power, ever since the materialization of the necklace he'd known his son was more special than he'd ever realized. “Hold on a second. Which one of you can get the adoption papers and have Liz sign them?”

Hearing her name Liz walked over giving Patrick a cold look before turning to Dylan with a kittenish expression on her face as she rubbed up against him. “If you want me to sign the adoption papers of course I will. Where are they darling?”

Justin looked at Patrick who looked back at him until Calder cleared his throat drawing papers from behind his back to hand them over to Dylan, keeping his eyes averted from the woman standing a short distance away. At Dylan's questioning look he replied, “I've been studying law in case my music career doesn't work out. Uncle Chris will expect me to provide really well for Constance and his grandkids.” He finally met Liz's eyes and burst into tears.

She grimaced. “What the hell is the matter with him? Let me have the papers so I can sign. I need to get packed for my trip to rehab on Monday.” She plucked the documents from Dylan's hands and looked skeptically at the pen Patrick offered, before snatching the midnight black Montblanc Starwalker to quickly scribble her signature on all the required lines. With barely disguised distaste, she tossed the pen back to Patrick then gave the documents to Dylan. “Now get that little crying shrimp out of here.”

Dylan looked from the bawling Calder to Patrick. “This is too upsetting for him and probably for Justin too. If y'all can undo everything I'll call the police and-”

Patrick thought he had to be completely out of his mind. “I will not allow you to take responsibility for Liz's demise. You have twelve children to care for and while I'll financially give all I have, am happy to be physically of assistance on occasion, I admit I couldn’t handle paternity of these children everyday and remain true to my work. Justin calm your brother. Your mom is waiting to name the new babes your dad gave her this morning and I brought you all another little sister named Vienna.”

Dylan gave Patrick an inquiring stare, “Despite Carolina's warnings, you did what we planned?”

Patrick inclined his head. “Carolina assured me the family would care for Vienna.”

Without being told, Dylan knew the two men were dead. “Of course we will.”

“We'd better go. I can hear Carolina worrying more and the babes are getting to be a handful. If she asks, you three were out getting things for the wedding”

Justin comfortingly stroked Calder's hair several times until the child calmed and looked up to say, “Justin's getting adopted will be the best wedding present for mom.”

“Okay let's go. Calder you ride with me. Justin you ride with Dylan and we'll have a race to see who can get home the fastest.”

“Carolina will kill us both if she finds out we were driving like maniacs with her kids,” Dylan declared, as he draped his arm across Justin's shoulders.

Patrick looked over at Justin and gave the boy a playful wink. “Who said anything about driving?”

Chapter 23

Carolina was sitting on the camel colored sofa in the living room, brushing Vienna's long brown hair when Dylan, Patrick and their three eldest sons walked in chatting excitedly. Their unruly fairy babes were busy twitting and fluttering their wings merrily where they perched, occasionally hopping across the top of the dark wood console positioned beneath one of the room's many large windows. Placing a kiss atop the little girl's head Carolina waited for the child to stand before she rose and faced the five smiling males. “Callum please take Vienna upstairs so she can prepare for dinner.”

“But mom she's been following me all day. It's Calder or Justin's turn to look after her. Those two have been off with dad and I've been stuck playing little girl games,” Callum protested loudly.

“Well next time they'll keep her company and you can run off with your fathers. Besides, you already got to name one of your little brothers. Tell everybody the name you've chosen,” Carolina excitedly prompted him.

Callum walked over to the console to scoop up one of the blue birds that was busy grooming its brilliant feathers. Turning he walked back toward the crowd and as he was doing so the body he held was a little bird one second and a silver-haired baby the next. Callum held the wiggling babe up allowing him to kick his feet as the baby reached out for Dylan. “His name is Joseph Silver.”

Dylan took hold of the reaching baby, drawing him close to the warmth of his body. Trying not to look shocked, he asked Carolina, “Can they all change like that?”

She nodded. “Shifting and much more. Our babes are exceptionally advanced. They kept disappearing while Vega was in with them and there are a few more revealing habits I've observed. Callum has been an excellent help to me.” She held her arms open to him and he walked into her embrace with a big grin. Hugging him tight, she then gave him a kiss on each cheek and one on his forehead before releasing him with a loving stroke of her palm to the side of his face. “Now you and Vienna go on and I'll make both Dylan and Patrick give you driving lessons after dinner.”

As Callum exited the room with Vienna in tow Patrick announced, “Gingernut I have plans after dinner and I have to finish with the wedding preparations so-”

“So nothing, Patrick Donovan. I'll deal with you in a minute. Now I want to talk with my sons. Calder, come here and let me look at you.” As the boy approached, she could feel there was something different about him but she couldn't pinpoint what it was and it bothered her. The closer he got she began to smell that woman on him and her heart chilled. She embraced him in a hug that gently rocked back and forth, her lips pressed to his springy curls, “Calder, baby, what have you been doing?”

He looked into her eyes and his lower lip began to tremble, memories trying to resurface but there were blanks he didn't understand. “I was at Liz's with Justin. We got something for you,” he stated, trying to pull away but she wouldn't let go.

The cracking sound from earlier resumed in her head and she closed her eyes tightly as if the action would drown out the sound. Embracing Calder a bit tighter she whispered against his hair, “Constance has been worried. Will you think of her for a minute?” At his nod, she placed her palm over his heart. Focusing her energy for several seconds she healed the deep emotional wound he'd suffered and the babes in the background began a loud song with one of the tanagers flying to perch on his shoulder to sing directly in his left ear. Calder began to giggle and squirm. Carolina released him and watched as he captured the mischievous babe in his palms and the little bird transformed itself into his newly arrived pink outfitted, sister.

Calder rubbed his cheek against the baby's plump face. “Her name will be Augusta Sienna and she says Constance told her she can be the flower girl at our wedding.” He walked over to Patrick and relinquished his sister who was reaching back for him possessively, so he allowed her to capture his finger for a few seconds more saying to Carolina, “Mom can I go now I want to spend some time with Constance.”

“Remember to stay close to the house.” Carolina watched as Calder, with a good amount of difficulty got his finger away from Augusta Sienna, who shifted quickly and flew after him at which point Carolina saw Calder make the slightest rotating motion with his finger and the wayward tanager flew back to the console, looking longingly after him.

The moment Justin had seen Vienna's heart-shaped face he'd begun to feel ambivalent about proceeding with the last portion of the plan. He didn't want to create disharmony with her in the house, feared she'd dislike and resent him for causing Patrick to go away. He looked directly at Carolina and even though he'd seen the little girl exit with Callum, from the corner of his eye, he caught a faintly flickering, transparent semblance of her beside the man that kept his mother from being happy, as if she were his self-appointed protector. Nervously he approached Carolina until he stood an arm's length away, “Mom I can explain.”

She took his hand in hers, holding it tightly. “You don't have to. We're all together and we're safe. That's all that matters. I'm grateful you helped Calder and if you want I can soon start teaching you fay ways of healing.”

In his mind he could hear Vienna scolding him for being false and his anxiety increased, yet he kept to the plan, knowing full-well he was already masterful in the magic of their homeland, to Carolina he said, “I'd like that and before I name the last babe will you heal me like you just did for Calder? I don't want to remember anymore.”

“Of course I will.”

Justin needed her to tap into any level of high emotion so he could get beyond the protective shield she kept in place over her mind to keep intruders out. So with calculated distress he filled his voice with tears and sorrow and allowed the heart wrenching elements to rain down on her as he asked, “Mom, can you fix the things Liz said are wrong with me? I want to get married and have lots of kids, like the rest of the Savage men. My heart doesn’t want me to be different, an outsider from this clan. What kind of life would I have without the closeness and respect of the only family, besides you, that has ever cared for me? But most of all mom, I need dad to love me like he did before, need to know you both won‘t turn away from me.”

Carolina was so furious with Liz that she felt her arms shaking and she struggled to control herself so not to upset him or the babes. Squeezing his hands she vowed, “I'll heal the wounds that woman and her associates caused you and that's all I'll do because you're perfect as you are. Liz is a spiteful, evil thing that has to destroy everyone around her. That's why she's tried to plant seeds of doubt in your mind. You know your father loves you, that we all do and when the time comes for you to decide about dating and marriage we'll fully accept your choices.” Carolina placed her hand over his heart, allowing her energy to flow into him so long she felt weak when she drew her hand away. She studied him intently for several seconds before asking in a solicitous tone, “How do you feel?”

Justin had conducted a quick but thorough survey of her thoughts and fears as she sent her energy into him. Having the requisite information he sighed, his heart feeling as light as it had been when he was a fay babe snuggled in her arms. Yet he still sensed Vienna's disapproving presence, only nearer, actually right beside him, a startling breeze of air against his forearm and hurriedly he exclaimed, “I feel great mom. Can I name the last baby now?”

“Sure you can,” she smiled happily.

Justin studied the brightly colored group perched on the console, heard Vienna's sugary voice in his ear bossing him about, for the name she had her heart set on he never would've chosen and in a raspingly reluctant voice, he announced, “The little one on the end, will be named Camulus Amytal.” Shying away from the invisible, but persistent, spirit Justin refocused his attention on Carolina to say, “Mom I'm sorry about today. We should have been here to help you but...” For a moment, he thought to tell the agreed upon story but felt viselike pinchincg in his sides and with stinging eyes he confessed, “Liz kidnapped Calder and I went to get him back but that didn't work so we had to call dad. The good thing is she agreed to the adoption.”

Giving a girlish squeal Carolina whirled Justin around, hugging him tightly, kissing both of his cheeks before quieting down, feeling the flush of complete happiness all over her body she declared, “Oh baby, that's wonderful and tonight you'll wear your special shirt for me and I'll wear a green dress for you. Now off you go, my little Periwinkle.”

Kissing his mother’s cheek he inhaled the overwhelming aroma of vanilla cupcakes and chocolate-dipped orange slices wafting in the air from the direction where Vienna’s image had vanished from the moment he’d given the babe the name she’d wanted. Already he missed her dark-eyes, her determination and Justin asked Carolina while trying to suppress his desire to run out and find the brunette princess, and never let her out of his sight again, “Is Vienna staying with us forever?”

Carolina looked into his eyes reading concern and interest. “I'm not sure. Don't you want her to be with us?”

He thought about the years they'd have together before she'd be full grown and the time when she'd possibly want to leave, maybe for college or just out to explore the world and he felt terrified at the thought of her not being around. Looking back at Dylan and Patrick, he could see in their eyes what they'd done to ensure the safety of the family and he returned his gaze to his mother’s saying honestly, “It's horrible to be alone and without anyone to love and care for you. In my fay life, after you were sent away, I knew that reality every second of every day. Now she needs a family, people to protect her, so I think she should stay with us until she's ready to wed. Then I'll take her hand and be a loyal companion to her. With Vienna having an altered spirit, she must marry wisely for her security. I believe my wanting to do her bidding and guard over her are very important. Tonight I'll make my intentions clear. Do you think she'll like that?

She hugged him tightly. “Earlier, she was full of questions about you, however she'll need time to decide for herself where her commitment will be placed and you should strive for balance. Setting your devotion to one lass isn't the same as Calder or Callum deciding early on about a sweetheart. Though you are without magic, I feel your fay spirit is strong, and as such, once your favor is set it can be almost impossible to shift your attraction in another direction. Learn from me Periwinkle, it is no easy thing for a fay to suffer unrequited emotion,” she finished with a twinge of sadness, her eyes briefly flitting to Patrick, before they settled on Dylan where she made them stay for a long while.

Justin could see her struggle, could feel her heart wanting to make her look back at Patrick and his voice drew her attention to him, “Mom, I think Vienna and I will get along just fine and if she sets her sites on another I'll be understanding as you are with Patrick. Your life hasn‘t turned out so bad even though he’s never loved you back and now you’ve found dad, which proves that if Vienna won’t care for me, as Patrick doesn’t you, then perhaps my future may hold another possibility for completion.” Giving her a final kiss he walked off deliberately singing, ‘You do something to me’, the song Dylan had serenaded her with scant days earlier.

The boy’s needling wasn’t lost on Patrick, but he wasn’t bothered; he only hid his smile, seeing in the young man what he'd instantly, felt from Carolina when they’d first met and knew the teen had already assigned his heart to Vienna. He silently applauded himself for recognizing the qualities in her that would balance out that tow-haired rapscallion, feeling well armed against any attack he and the twins sent hurtling his way. Looking at his watch Patrick grimaced, “Gingernut not to rush you but-”

Her happy smile lost all of its brightness. “You will not sneak Dylan out of this house to spend the night with a bunch of strippers. It's bad enough little Patrick and Camulus are already demonstrating the Don Juan ways they've inherited from you.”

Patrick's eyes grew wide, “What do you mean?

A sad note crept into her voice. “My milk isn't good enough. They can smell the lunar-induced lactation of the other women and your babes have shunned me, wanting Vega and the other Savage women to feed them. You're going to get that naughty pair to see reason or I'll box your ears. Thank goodness, Calder and Callum are more reserved like Clover. Patrick you must correct the behavior of our wayward sons now or are you and Dylan prepared to face the inevitable consequences of Camulus and little Pat’s varied interests as they mature?”

Patrick knew she was right. He already had his hands full with all the other issues being a part of this family presented, he wasn't looking forward to more problems to fix. “I will set Pat and Cam on the right course. However, that's a separate issue from me wanting to host Dylan's bachelor party. He has a right to a stag night.”

Carolina looked at the sinfully handsome man who was to legally take her hand in marriage. He was tall, broad of shoulder and muscular. His golden hair rivaled the sun and a single look from his lapis-blue eyes could make her warm, wet and ready. The sight of him holding their babe filled her with happiness and security that she didn't want to risk just because Patrick felt like having a bit of fun. With a sweet smile and a raised eyebrow she softly asked in a weblike voice spun of mead soaked cotton, “Dylan, my heart, my soul, my precious treacle bear, do you want to spend the night with a bunch of strange, bottle-blond, fake-boobed, crab-infested women gyrating in front of you?”

Dylan held his warm wriggling baby tighter. With a broad smile and a shake of his head, he honestly assured her, “No, honey I don't.”

Patrick shot Dylan a look that clearly read 'grow a set'. To Carolina he expressed sincerely, “Gingernut I'm his eldest brother now and our bond entitles him to certain rites. I want him to have a send off befitting my little brother, if not his princely status. We'll leave after dinner and be back home before midnight. You should know by now he's no average mortal with all he's given you. By rights I should be whisking him off to the outskirts of this universe but I'm sacrificing, settling for a harmless romp in Vegas.”

Carolina smoothed the imagined wrinkles from her shirt over her large breasts. “Patrick, if you insist on sneaking the Savage men off to Sin City, then I'll have male escorts come here. We girls will have our own party.”

Patrick gave her a look of outrage. “You wouldn't dare be so shameless.”

Carolina shrugged one shoulder. “I kid ye not. You may not care for me but imagine Vega in the clutches of some young stud, his oiled muscles glistening, with a hard-on that would make yours look like a string bean and you'll only have a fraction of an idea of what I'll arrange if any of the men in this house disappear during the night.”

Patrick used the full power of his beguiling smile on her, flashing his irresistible dimples. “Alright... We'll have a small party here. He has to have a celebratory rite of passage. You'll have him the rest of his life. He's given you everything you've ever wanted. Let him have a few hours of fun.”

Her heart fluttered and she smiled at him. “Well, when you put it like that.”

Dylan looked from Patrick to Carolina, not liking the evident power the man had over her and spoke out, “Really, I just want to spend the evening with you and the kids.”

She still gazed upon Patrick's adorable face. This was the way he'd looked when they'd first sat out under the light of the moon, when he'd first kissed her, holding her close well into the night, the way he'd looked when he claimed her maidenhead making her feel cherished and loved. Staring into eyes that glowed like low-burning firelight she told Dylan contentedly, “You can do that and later meet up with your brothers.”

He didn't like the plan. “But Carolina, honey-”

“Dylan, hush up. Gingernut has agreed, accept graciously and thank your lucky stars you're marrying such a beautiful and understanding woman.” The beguiling look slowly left Patrick's face to be replaced by one of appreciation, “Thank you Gingernut. I won't let him get drunk and now I'll take all the babes upstairs so the two of you can talk.” Collecting little Joseph from Dylan, Patrick easily held both he and Augusta. Over his shoulder, Patrick mimicked the whistling and chirping of the brood resting on the console, alerting them to follow him up to the nursery.

Dylan enjoyed the sight of his babes in flight, the feel of the air stirring around him as they soared by, brilliant streaks of red, blue and yellow lighting the room. When they were all gone, he walked lazily over to her. Bending his head, he prepared to touch his lips to hers but she turned away, a wounded whimper sounding from her throat. Straightening to his full height, he assured her, “Now Carolina I told you I don't want-”

“I can smell Liz on you and it's not just that perfume she bathes herself in, it's a womanly stench that wasn't on Justin or Calder. What were you doing with her?”

He sniffed the air but couldn't smell a thing. “I went to get my sons back and to put an end to her misery causing.”

Carolina widened her eyes. “And you had to touch her intimately?”

He placed both of his hands on her shoulders, his eyes holding hers, “I injected heroin into her upper thigh.”

Carolina's nervous hands found a place to rest, flat against the solid muscles of his chest, feeling his strong, steady heartbeat. “Did you sleep with her?”

His voice was full of righteous indignation, “Heck naw.”

She knew some people found drugs sexually gratifying. “Did you enjoy it?”

“No way,” he exclaimed with a shudder of revulsion.

“Is doing drugs something you need? I've never done them nor am I willing to try. I'm too fiery to have such elements or alcohol introduced to my system.”

“The only drug I need is you.”

Carolina raised her palm to stroke his cheek. He had beautiful skin, without lines, seemingly pore-less and naturally tan, but she could see he was tired. “You look worn out. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

He pressed the side of his face into her palm, “It's over. Liz is out of our lives. Now I'm going to teach Callum and Vienna how to drive. Maybe I'll have Justin come along if he's not too tired. Should we be concerned that he's smitten with her?

“No, the healing has given her some powers but she'd never hurt him. Her sweet human nature is enchanting Justin, further righting the damage Liz caused him. He will always be gentle with Vienna. We don't have to worry about him as we do about Little Pat and Cam. I thank the heavens that you're not a narcissistic hound, that you didn't pass on any peculiar womanizing habits to our eldest as Patrick has done with those two you've given to me for him.”

Dylan inclined his head, although his past conquests could probably rival Patrick's, he saw no reason to tell his honey and go creating problems for himself or worry her. He, along with his parents August and Patrick, would keep a close watch over little Pat and Cam to make certain they behaved appropriately. With so many eyes fixed upon them, the little scamps wouldn't have an opportunity to get up to mischief and all he'd need worry about was keeping Carolina head-over-heels for him until the end of time. Taking her hand, he kissed her palm and asked, “Honey, do I enchant you?”

Carolina felt a strong fluttering low in her pelvis and caught her breath, heard more splintering sounds and confessed, “You do a lot more than that, but you're not exactly human.” She touched her hand to the diamond necklace. “I can't get this off. Will you unfasten the clasp and put it in the safe.”

Releasing Carolina’s hand he encircled her throat with his fingers feeling strength, warmth, energy, and the sensations he experienced were hotter and more piercing than the bullet that had passed through his body earlier. His grip tightened and he pulled her closer to him. Lowering his head, he placed his lips over the pulse beating in the left side of her neck to whisper huskily, “No. I want you to keep it on.”

Carolina’s knees threatened to give way, as her breathing quickened. She wanted to climb all over him and she purred lustily, “Okay. Now take the kiss you wanted. I'd give it to you but I want to feel you overpower me.”

He shuddered, his climax so close to the surface that the tip of his penis felt swollen and raw as if he'd made love to her nonstop for days. His need was so strong that he feared doing to her what she might consider the unforgivable, so abruptly he released her, watching as she visibly steadied herself at his sudden and unexpected movement. Reaching out he braced her with the strength of his forearm drawling, “Girl, don't start. I have plans with Callum. Give me a little peck on the lips and keep your hands to yourself when you do.”

Standing on tiptoe, Carolina did as she was told, and saw a broad smile brighten his face. As her heels reunited with the ground she felt him pat her backside then watched him swagger away and the only thought in her mind was that he was all hers, all six-feet-plus of muscled hunk she wasn't expected to romantically share with anyone. Her heart felt as though it would fly from her chest as she strolled toward the entryway with the intention of going to the nursery. The closer she got to the glass front door she could see a hesitant looking, slim, black clad figure, holding a duffel, out on the porch, with several reporters and photographers at her back. Touching the fingers of her left hand to the large pink diamond at her throat Carolina walked purposefully to the door, her eyes meeting Liz's pale gaze through the glass. Keeping in mind the need to be civilized, so she wouldn't make an absolute laughingstock of Dylan and his family, Carolina opened the door with a radiant smile. “Hello Liz.”

Liz craned her neck to either side of Carolina trying to get a look into the mansion. “I'd like to speak to Dylan or Justin. Is that possible or am I expected to communicate through you?”

“I'll certainly relay the message.”

Liz lifted the duffel bag in Carolina's direction. “Justin forgot this.”

Carolina accepted the bag. “Is there anything else?”

“Aren't you going to invite me in?”

“Another time perhaps, call next week and we'll arrange something.”

“I'm leaving on Monday for rehab, and then I'm moving to the east coast. I just wanted Dylan to know how happy I am for the two of you.”

Carolina gave her a reserved smile. “Thank you. I'll tell him.”

Liz tossed back her jet-black hair saying, “I still care for him but he doesn't even see me any more. You're everything to him, both he and Justin. It hurts to know and accept that I've been replaced. If I could talk to them before I leave, being alone these next few weeks will be easier.”

Carolina looked beyond Liz into the crowd of gathered bodies before returning her attention to the woman who had the glint of tears dampening her cosmetically enhanced lashes. “Where is Tyler Mitchell?”

Inhaling deeply, Liz was bombarded by the other woman’s intoxicating scent, sighing a non-reply, “Who?” Shaking off the pleasant but untimely attraction she was feeling toward the woman who was replacing her, Liz didn’t wait for Carolina’s response. Instead, she gripped the other woman’s hand and pleaded, “Don't turn me away. You have no idea what it's like to be all alone and frightened. If I don't make rehab work I'll end up an unidentified corpse lying in an abandoned tenement with rats and maggots eating away at my flesh. Please Carolina. You're a good person. That's why he loves you. I just need to tell them I'm sorry.”

Carolina heard footsteps behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Patrick. Beckoning for him with a crook of her index finger, she waited until he was at her side before she returned her gaze to Liz's. “Alright, you can come in. Patrick will take you into the music room, while I get Dylan and Justin.”

“Thank you,” Liz exclaimed, throwing herself into the shorter woman's arms, holding on tightly for several seconds before drawing away. The simmering, floral, honeyed-cream scent of the redhead had heat coiling in the region of her poppy tattoo. Allowing her eyes to move languidly over Carolina's face, Liz inhaled deeply again, then slurred heatedly, “Oh you smell so sweet.”

Carolina watched Liz's mouth lowering to meet her own. She felt the other woman's tongue thrust deeply and thought to move away but was uncertain if her reaction would cause too much sensation amongst the assembled media. With steely determination to appear unbothered she withstood Liz's touch, hearing the shouts of the reporters and seeing flashes from cameras as photographers captured the embrace.

****

Carolina stood in the master bath looking at her reflection in the full-length mirror, touching her trembling fingers to her slightly swollen mouth. It had been a few hours since Liz had kissed her and still her lips burned. If the vixen could leave such a scorching impression on her Carolina no longer harbored any confusion as to why Dylan had stayed committed to her for as long as he had, even though Liz, by her own admission, had been a world-class bitch.

Throughout the evening Carolina had kept a close eye on the black clad woman with her equally dark hair, although it seemed her soul was no longer of the same color. Liz was the model guest and repentant of her many transgressions during her life with Dylan and Justin. But Carolina, not trusting Liz's sudden change, had breached Dylan's mind, skimming for details of his afternoon with her, discovering that he'd killed her and that Justin had created a substitute Liz. Her little fay babe, who'd hidden his magic until it was needed to protect his father and family, was apparently a very skilled sorcerer but Carolina truly believed she needed to stay on guard, magic transformation or not.

Carolina, reaching behind her back, unzipped her green dress, recalling the events of the evening. Liz had spoken with Dylan and Justin as she'd claimed she'd wanted, then wept her way into an invitation to dinner where she begged to sit between them chatting about the way she'd wished she'd been during their lives together. Her attentiveness was so enthralling that Carolina had even caught Patrick giving Liz several desirous glances, because she was without a doubt the second most stunning woman in the room, the most attractive, of course, being Vega. Looking at her naked body in the mirror Carolina grimaced. Undoubtedly she was the least attractive in the entire county with her full-moon derriere, heavy thighs and humongous breasts, so large and swollen with milk she could feed an entire hospital nursery full of babies and still have more than enough nourishment left over for her own eight.

Shuffling unhappily to the shower she stood within the spray of all hot water, trying to ease the misery from her body, her mind returning to the recent hours past. After dinner when everyone had milled out to the patio to watch the sunset, faint music had been turned on to fill the night. Instead of Justin, who'd worn his special white shirt with the green and gold threads, dancing with her in her basil-green dress, as she'd hoped or with the unhappy looking Vienna, Liz had snagged his hand and waltzed with him, her black hair flying through the air. Her slim figure had been a treat to the eye, as judged by the many spectators who visually feasted on her swaying movements.

Carolina had stood on the sidelines smoothing her hands over the full rayon skirt of her dress, concerned that the v-neckline revealed entirely too much cleavage, feeling ridiculously jealous since the other Savage women hadn't cared that their husbands took enjoyment in Liz's performance. They were secure in their marriages, with varied arranged understandings that worked for them. She'd no such sense of security with Dylan. Sure, she'd given him eight unruly babes, birthed the spirit of his eldest son, spirited him a daughter during her tremendous grief, brought to his family two sons who she felt idolized his every action, unintentionally united him with Patrick for eternity and could, on a basic level, satisfy him sexually. Yet she'd feared it wasn't enough, wished she hadn't put the kibosh on Patrick's plans for a wild bachelor party. She'd thought, if Dylan were anything like his brothers and Patrick, he had needs that weren't going to be exclusively filled by their wives, legal or celestial, and she'd imagined the sweet new Liz satisfying his lusty physical demands as the bitter old one had and she had bit back a cry and caught the smell of trouble wafting in the air.

Shutting off the shower Carolina stepped out onto the thick bath mat, wrapping herself in a fluffy towel. Walking into the outer room, she stopped short at the sight of Liz standing beside the bed smiling warmly. Carolina's skin began to crawl as she grumbled impolitely. “I thought you were gone. Did you forget something?”

Liz's voice had the pitch of a skillful used car salesman's, “The guys have locked themselves away for Dylan's party and I thought you and I might have some fun of our own. It is your last night, too, after all. Come here and I'll help you dry off.”

Carolina couldn't believe Liz was flirting with her. “I can take care of myself and I'm in no mood for any other kind of fun. But, I'll slip into my robe and walk you out.” She turned, hurrying back into the bath and was surprised when Liz followed her. Keeping her towel in place, she hurriedly slipped into her pink granny robe, belting it loosely at the waist. Only then, did she reach her hand into the neckline to unfasten the bath sheet, allowing it to slide from beneath the robe to pool around her feet then she tightened the belt of her robe with an angry tug. When she looked at Liz, she narrowed her gaze in suspicion at the predatory glint in the woman's pale eyes. “I'm ready to walk you down. Do you have everything you need? I'd hate for you to have to come back.”

Liz walked up to Carolina tracing the fingertips of both her hands along the raised texture of the v-shaped diamond necklace, stroking her way down to the large teardrop diamond to caress the priceless stone laying below the base of Carolina's throat. “It looks beautiful on you, like it did on his mother. You remind me of her in some ways, the ghastly long hair, the extra poundage and you even dress like her, on-the-cheap.”

Carolina pushed the woman's worm-like fingers away. “What's your point?”

“I'm not implying that he's using you to replace her. No wife or lover will ever be as much to him as she was and August is and not in an Oedipal sense. The Savage brothers loved their daddy equal to their mother and his mistress, feared and respected him, so none of them ever desired her or August sexually. But those two women set the bar for every other woman in their lives in terms of nurturing, strength and sacrifice. So instead of being content with someone like me, he's gone and caught you in his net.” Liz lowered her red lacquered fingertips, giving a smile that didn't reach her eyes, “I would like for us to be friends, maybe more. Your kiss was unique, like nothing I've experienced, not even with Dylan and he and I have kissed a lot, had sex in every way imaginable. He would be excited if he found us in bed together. Threesomes are really his preference because his every desire is catered to. Let's do it. I know you want to please him; it's in the way you look at him, the way you respond to his voice. Like when we fought, only he could calm you down. I bet you respond beautifully to him in bed. Your shape resembles those big guitars he loves to play. I could never let myself get so fat, but on you, it works. You're all jiggle and shimmy. Last week I thought you were a cow but now, I definitely see your appeal and the two of us, his ex-wife and his fiancee, touching Dylan, pleasuring him, the night before his wedding would be his wildest fantasy come true. You can be his guitar and I'll be his harmonica. The things he can do with his mouth and tongue are delightfully wicked. He's Joseph Savage's son. His mother permanently welcomed August into her marriage bed at her husband's request and until Joe and Sue died, they all lived as husband and wives with August now acting as supreme mother of this family. Dylan, by nature of the beast, will expect the same of you eventually. So are you game Carolina? Tonight will you give him what he wants?”

Carolina worried Justin's magic had heightened Liz's level of mental illness. In a strong, steady voice, she told the other woman, “He'll have to be disappointed. You've been here long enough. It's time you left.”

Batting her lashes and pouting, Liz whined, “I'm lonely. Can't I stay the night?”

“No. Let's go,” Carolina moved to escort her out.

Liz stepped directly into her path, “Give me one kiss then I'll leave.”

Carolina was fed up, tired and sore from breastfeeding. The last cookie crumb of patience she had for Liz disintegrated into nothingness. “How about I kick your scrawny butt then throw you out. I don't know what kind of game you're playing but you won't play it with me. You claimed you wanted to talk with Dylan and Justin and you have. I even felt sorry for you and invited you to dinner but you're leaving now, one way or the other.”

Liz touched the red springy curls at the side of Carolina's face. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I just thought since the two of you were getting married you knew what he was like, wanted to feed the lustful wolf he keeps chained up. Your good girl routine won't always be enough. Down deep, he's hard, fierce and more than a little dangerous. It's how he really enjoys his sex. He'll fuck you so hard you can barely walk and he'll still want to ram his huge rod in your mouth, having you suck him until he comes, demanding you swallow every drop. Then there will be those times when he brings his belts to bed with him to keep you tied up all night, touching and teasing but never satisfying, which he did with a lot of our many playmates. But my favorite was having him cover the bed with long stem roses and take me on top of them, the thorns penetrating and tearing at my skin. When we exchanged places he came before he even got inside me, there's something about being pierced and stuck that does more for Dylan than intercourse. That's why he'd only ever shoot us up, never popping, smoking or snorting drugs. He doesn't even feel the high from dope, it was being stuck that gave him pleasure and eventually he stopped because the tiny needles weren't enough. When I shot him today, and the bullet tore into him, I could feel him nearing climax. That's the kind of freak you're considering marrying. I wonder what he'll make you do to satisfy him. I warn you, if you don't play with him on his level, someone else is bound to try. Don't be mad at me. I only mean to be helpful.”

Carolina flicked Liz's hand away from her hair, her tone dripping with sarcasm, “Sure you do. Start walking, or so help me, I'll smack you until your ears ring.”

Liz held up her palms in surrender. “Alright sweetheart. You can't blame a girl for trying. But really I do thank you for letting me stay.” Liz moved aside, allowing Carolina to lead the way from the bath, watching the sway of her full hips beneath the robe and as she passed the bed, Liz pounced on her like a panther, pinning her shoulders down with difficulty as Carolina struggled beneath her wildly. Sniffing the fresh scrubbed scent of her damp red hair, and the warm creamy fragrance wafting up from her breasts, Liz leaned down and pressed her lips to the pale skin at the opening of Carolina's robe.

With strong hands, Carolina shoved the other woman, “Get off me.”

Liz straddled one of Carolina's thighs and rubbed her crotch against it, thrusting suggestively, “I want to be close to you. Touch and hold you, like Dylan does. It's not wrong. We can be a family the way Joe, Sue, August and the Savage boys were. Why can't you love me like you do him?”

Carolina pushed against her trying to toss the woman aside but she was hampered by exhaustion. Struggling with all her might, Carolina snapped, “Because you’re a depraved maniac.”

Liz rotated her hips against Carolina's naked thigh, panting heatedly against her chest, “You're hurting my feelings. Give me one kiss and I'll let you go. Lowering your voice would help set the mood unless you want to wake your kids and have them find me on top of you. That smart little one of yours is so innocent he nearly died when I tried to kiss him. Imagine the damage he might suffer if he walked in right now.”

“Get your bony butt off me.” Carolina twisted trying to escape Liz's wandering lips and could feel the robe's sash coming undone.

Liz buried her face in the warmth of Carolina's breasts, her lips attaching to the delicate skin, beginning to suck forcefully until she felt Carolina's fingers pinching her. She lifted her head, breathing heavily. “Your struggling makes me hot.” Liz reared up, surveying the landscape of Carolina's body. “Your face and skin are glowing. Bondage will suit you. Allow me to tie you up. When Dylan and I were first married, he was game, but one time when he was blindfolded, lying face down and strapped to the bed I had a shemale pretend to be me. Needless to say I was never allowed the pleasure again.”

Carolina stopped struggling, pressure building in her head followed by more of the cracking and splintering sounds from earlier. Feeling and sounding unsteady, she asked, “Did the person have relations with Dylan?”

Liz continued rocking her pelvis against Carolina's thigh. “I wish I had one of my strap-ons with me so I could screw you until you came and it would be my name you'd cry, not his. Has he shoved himself up your plump ass yet? I bet he has. All that soft jiggling flesh would be too much for him to resist. What did you call it? 'Have relations with...' That's a prudish way of asking did your big, strong, fiancee take it up the keister? Of course he did. Just like he made you do for him. Why do you think he's so squeamish about male-to-male contact, even with his sainted brother Chris?”

The thought of her poor treacle bear being assaulted gave her the strength to fight. Rearing up her torso, she accurately aimed her forehead at Liz's, delivering a blow with such force that she even saw bright stars and she cried, “I think there's absolutely no cure for the illness that inhabits the very essence of you.” With the harlot already off balance, she drew back her fist then barreled a vicious right cross to Liz’s jaw. Carolina watched as the vile hag toppled sideways to the floor. Springing to her feet she was walking to the door when she felt Liz grab her from behind, trying to drag her back to the bed. Carolina stamped down on the woman's foot and jerked her elbow back into Liz's ribs. Hearing the woman's pained intake of breath and feeling the slackening of her hold, Carolina whirled around intent on bodily harm only to feel Liz's fingernails dig into her neck.

Liz tightened her grip, snarling, “I lied, bitch. I came here to get my necklace and my family back. After I break your neck, I'm going to kill those bastards you’ve spawned; there will only be one heir to the Dylan Savage fortune. Then tomorrow my husband and I will take Justin away from Ventura. I'll make them forget you. With Dylan, it will be easy and Justin will play along to keep his father happy. That little freak of nature was different before, having been created by Dylan’s self-fertilization, or whatever he did to get a kid that only has his DNA. You look shocked. Did you think I was so stupid and drugged that I wouldn‘t realize that kid wasn’t mine? Years ago, I slept with a technician who secretly conducted the test for me. Once I had the results and was sure he hadn’t told anyone else, I killed him. I’ve kept their secret because of the bottomless bank accounts and the fabulous perks being the wife and mother of a Savage entitled me to. Now that you and that dark-devil have turned Justin into a warlock, or some such magical creature, I plan to capitalize on his skills, have the world in my pocket. I’ll be unsurpassedly rich and beautiful, never getting older because Justin can give me endless youth, changing out my old body for a new one, like he did today. He and his father will both be mine to do with as I please.

Struggling, Carolina ripped at Liz's hands with her fingers. “They don't want you.”

Liz removed a hand from Carolina's neck and backhanded her across the mouth. “Shut up. I don’t care what they want, never have.” Clamping her fingers once again above the diamond necklace she was always being denied, Liz spat in Carolina's face. “Dylan killed me because of you. That's when I learned how Justin has changed. He revealed his magic to safeguard his father, was selected by that demon in black to get rid of me. But the stupid kid was nervous, with Dylan looking on, so he messed up. He didn't realize my soul was still hovering in the room so I simply flowed into the new form he'd created. I know a bit about witchcraft myself. That's how I had kept Dylan committed to me. At least that was the case until you opened your fat thighs to him.”

Carolina clawed at the woman's face, “You will never have them again. I’ll drag you down into the darkest and hottest region of the underworld before I see my love and my babe beneath your gnarled thumb, you fiendish crone.”

Liz shook her violently by her throat. “You're ruining everything, like his mother tried to. I killed her and Joe; wished August had been at home that day so I could have been rid of her as well. Now it's your turn. Tomorrow I'll be marrying Dylan wearing my necklace with Justin at our sides. He’ll marry me not because of a spell, like you’re using, but because he loves me. If he didn't he never would have slept with me on Sunday and today, even when he thought he had to kill me for you, I could tell he didn't want to. He was fierce at first like he always is with me, pounding me until I thought he'd split me in half, but afterward, he was so gentle, praying for me. You're the one he doesn't love. If he cared for you, he never would have slept with me. All those other women we had in our bed, they were toys. He never took even one of them. From the time we met, I was the only one he ever gave himself to, no matter how many times I cheated.”

With her fists, Carolina beat at Liz's upper body. “It's because you bewitched him you fiendish, tube-nosed, fruit bat and you probably did so again on Sunday to coax him between your shriveled up nether lips. But, he didn't take you beneath him this day, you bitter tart, and I've never used magic on him.” Carolina, although a tad weak from breastfeeding, knew she should have already gained physical control over Liz and she realized the detestable hagfish had surely hexed her with that kiss at the front door, diminishing her strength and fighting skills.

Seeing the dawning in Carolina's eyes, Liz let out a maniacal laugh. “Did you think I'd fight fair this time, you simpleminded bitch. Bought potions are wonderful for someone, like me, who lacks the self-discipline to commit to wholeheartedly embrace witchery. A smudge of treated lipstick on your skin and you're weakened. When I met Dylan that's all it took too. I was a dancer with a lot of competition and my age had begun to interfere with the number of men who’d lavish me with expensive tokens of their affection, so I decided to snag myself a rich husband and there are few who can measure up to the Savage wealth. I was performing at a private party where Dylan was a guest, and after placing an artfully staged kiss upon his lips, within an hour, he'd spanked me, tied me to a bed and then proceeded to fuck me for three days straight until I could barely move. I want you to die thinking about that, you red-headed whore and the fact that before your body is even cold I'm going to bring him back up here and screw him while you're rotting away.” Liz's nails finally pierced the skin of Carolina's throat, warm blood coating her fingers and she cackled malevolently.

Looking into Liz's evil eyes, Carolina raised her palms to the woman's chest and declared, “This is for everyone you ever hurt you bottom-feeding mudcat.” She sent a blast of energy into the black clad body, brilliant lily-white light leaving her palms to enter the other woman's chest. Liz immediately released her neck, the power of the light lifting her from the floor, holding her suspended and motionless in the air. Stepping back, Carolina wiped the blood from her skin with the back of her hand and felt the wounds close, the pain fade. She also applied her healing touch to her lips and chest, anywhere she remembered Liz's lips had traveled. Then with purpose Carolina sent a blast of shimmering light into the woman's forehead until rays rebounded and escaped eyes, ears nose and mouth. She kept Liz suspended, burning the poison from her insides five times longer than she'd done with Cliff, George and Tyler and the level of heat was thirty times greater. She was certain that when Liz's feet touched the ground she'd either be cleansed of her soul disease or dead again. She hoped for the first, but if the second result came to pass, she'd regenerate her and start the process over until it took.

Chapter 24

It was well past ten when Dylan eased into bed beside Carolina. He'd left the bachelor party half-an-hour before to check in on his kids. He'd found the boys asleep in their room and apparently little Vienna preferred their company to being alone because Justin was bunked on the floor in a sleeping bag and she was nestled in his bed, looking as peaceful as an angel. He'd moved on to the calm sanctuary of the nursery, just sitting and humming to his babes for a good spell, needing to relax and take time to give thanks, especially for Carolina not discovering Patrick's sly plans, who knew what she'd have done since she'd warned Patrick about the bachelor party and strippers. But, he'd hired them anyway, rationalizing that a promise had been given not to sneak the Savage men out to be entertained by dancers, not the other way around. So being the man of honor and having a strong sense of competition Dylan had watched the topless performances and endured one or two, well honestly five, lap dances trying to keep up with the other men, but he'd always been thinking of his Carolina. Finally, after being consistently bored by the mechanical efforts of the too thin dancers and missing his honey, he'd left his brothers in the music studio.

Rolling on his side, he snuggled up to her tantalizing curves and the ever-so-guilty pleasure of her vibrating flesh. Nuzzling his face into the side of her neck he immediately pulled back, gagging. Anxiously he turned on the bedside lamp; needing to assure himself he was in bed with the right woman, because all he could smell was Liz’s stinking perfume. With the light's subtle glow illuminating the bed, he could see it was Carolina and her identity was further substantiated by the presence of several empty jars of lavender honey and Texas chili sauce on her nightstand. With a gentle touch to her upper arm, he shook her, “Carolina wake up.”

She rolled over, opening her eyes to smile at him. “I was just dozing, couldn't truly fall asleep knowing Patrick was likely to sneak in dancers. How were they?”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “Boring. Join me in the shower after I strip this bed. It smells like Liz in here.” He wondered why Liz had been in their bed and gave Carolina a measured look of hurt suspicion.

Carolina reached up to smooth his brow and was saddened when he pulled away. She could only imagine what he must be thinking. Hurriedly she explained, “She tried seducing me then said she was going to kill me. That harlot was unbelievable. This afternoon she shifted her diseased soul into the new form Justin created. She wanted your mother's necklace, decided to act as if she was changed in order to gain access to it, talk about cunning. When she makes it to Hell, the devil better watch his back.”

He clutched her hand on top of the comforter not willing to risk pulling her close and have Liz's stench assault his nose again. “She killed my parents for that necklace. I didn't learn the truth until yesterday. Calder told me she had it and later Patrick revealed she'd killed my Ma and Pa, had hurt you and Justin. I wanted to murder Liz then, but Patrick and I decided to wait until she'd relocated. Today though, it all crashed down on me when I learned she had the boys. I gave her an overdose thinking only to stop her from hurting any of you again.” So much for her image of him as a quiet force, but he was certain she'd understand.

She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. “You were driven to take action that would protect us because Liz was dangerous, unscrupulous and completely out of control. Don't blame yourself for the things she did. You're a victim as much as anyone is. Liz dabbled in the occult, said she used mostly potions. The night you first met she kissed you with some sort of love philter blended with her lipstick and from then on she had you under one spell or another.”

Dylan appreciated her attempt to absolve him of responsibility for the misery and destruction Liz had caused, yet he knew he was a coconspirator, accepted that if his sentence weren’t handed down in this life, judgment would precede his transition to the next. He placed his free hand on top of hers stopping the motion of her thumb. His eyes scanned hers. “What else did she tell you?”

Carolina knew what he was fishing to hear, but she was too pained to admit possession of the information. However, she didn't lie. She told him a different aspect of her time with Liz. She extracted her hand from his hold. “She told me she was going to kill the kids and make you marry her. However, we're finally rid of her. I cleansed her with fire.”

He knew the things Liz was capable of, what they both, to some degree, found sexually stimulating. His voice was concerned, “Did she hurt you?”

Her tone was light, her words truthful, “No. She wriggled around on top of me a bit, trying to convince me you'd like to find us in bed together. I’m not stupid. When you want such things you'll tell me.”

“When I was with her we did, occasionally, have other women in our bed. But I only ever had sex with Liz. I don't know if you understand, nor do I expect you to agree to, such things. I'm sorry she told you but you're still marrying me tomorrow.”

Though his words hadn't been in the form of a question she responded, “You're stuck with me. Let's take a quick shower. Your children will need to eat in a few hours and it won't be soon enough for me. My breasts feel as if they're ready to explode. Hopefully, Patrick talked with his devilish offspring because I’ll not put up with their tomfoolery at feeding time, if they drink I’ll get a wee more relief. It's my milk for them or manufactured formula. They'll not be chasing women from the crib.” She hopped up and started stripping the bed, the smell of Liz's perfume filling the air.

He smiled as he lay there watching her work. She was as naked and ripe as an unblemished white peach, and he knew she was much, much sweeter. The mere sight of her voluptuous curves did for him what five lap dances hadn't. He was rock hard.

Sliding out of bed, he finished helping her with the linens, tossing them onto the deck to air out. When he turned back to the bed, she had somehow dressed it in pale ivory with a sheer canopy overhead and yards of pale diaphanous fabric curtaining the sides. Through the gauzy material, he saw pink leather straps attached to the tops and bottoms of each post. Tension filled him, his eyes meeting hers. “Honey, you don't have to prove anything.”

The sight of his manhood, beneath the blue plaid under shorts, standing at attention and ready for battle pleased her greatly, making her feel supremely sensuous, powerful and womanly. “It's a few short hours til midnight. If you feel inclined I'd like you to bleed me after you bind me properly and if only this once let me know you.”

He took a deep breath then exhaled slowly, “What did Liz tell you Carolina?”

As light as dew falling upon rain soaked grass she assured him, “This isn't about her. I've asked you before and you've refused. You can deny me now but I need you to know I'm ready and willing to give you everything I am.” Although she was still unclear about what he truly needed, she wanted him to give her the chance to satisfy his deepest, darkest sexual desires. There was nothing she'd refuse him, her mind was open, she could adopt liberal and free-spirited views about sex, even share him if such desires would please him, keep him bound to her.

What she was offering was very tempting and after the day he'd been through he did feel the nagging electrical vibrations, hear the distinct buzz that signaled he was heading for one of his journeys into darkness, he just wasn't ready to make the voyage with her. Resolutely he shook his head, “No Carolina. I-”

She felt disappointed and afraid because of Liz's warning but she wouldn't hound him about his private feelings. It wasn't as if he knew everything about her. “Ye need not explain. If that be your decision, I’ll not press the matter. Now the shower waits.”

They walked into the bath arm and arm. Carolina was kneeling before him, helping him out of his boxers when she wrinkled her nose in disgust at the pungent odor of feminine secretions wafting up from the front of the blue plaid fabric. Meeting his eyes with a furious pout and a stern set to her brow, she jumped to her feet and tossed the shorts in his face, “Which whore was sitting in your lap?”

He'd drank more liquor than he should have on top of still feeling the residual stress of the day's many events. Now was not the time for him to argue with her, especially since she'd been at that darn chili sauce again. He was starting to see a distinct correlation between her fits of fury and that red devil's brew. He caught the flying undergarments and tried avoiding the issue. His shoulders sagged exaggeratedly and he bemoaned woefully, “I thought we were going to take a shower?”

In her mind Carolina saw herself wearing her wedding dress standing against the backdrop of the lavender field, waiting, growing older, still waiting for him to legally wed her but he doesn't and she dies rooted to that spot, because he'd run off with some other woman. Carolina gave a strangled cry, felt her cheeks burning, her body trembling with anger and fear. She wouldn't let him leave her. Hotheadedly she declared, “I'll kill her.” Snatching the shorts from his hand, she sniffed them, then inhaled deeply and overcome by absolute rage ripped them in two, before shoving past him with a wild howl to hurry into the other room. She felt him close behind her, reaching out to clutch her arm, so she grabbed her robe from the chair and threw it on moving quickly out onto the deck where she jumped with feline ease to the stone patio below. Down the stairs she hurried, then sprinted around the perimeter of the mansion and with every step, she felt more alone and desperate until there was nothing else.

****

Within seconds, she was back indoors, standing inside the music studio with walls covered by countless platinum discs and other various music awards that gave the room an opulent gleam, which was diminished by the reek of booze, cigars and arousal, the low, primal beat of hip-hop music pulsating through hidden speakers further shifting the regal to tribal. She glared at the four men sitting in large brown leather chairs situated around the room and the bare-bottomed women sitting astride their laps, rising and falling in time with the rhythmic beat. Heavy breathing and the sounds of well-lubricated swords being repeatedly sheathed and unsheathed let her know the assembled group was enjoying a lot more than striptease routines.

When the Savage brothers saw her they had the presence of mind to push the women away, jump up from their seats and zip their breeches. The stunned and still seated Patrick, never one to be bashful before, turned a fiery shade of red as he too righted the front of his trousers. Carolina marched over to him and slapped his face, the sound echoing off the walls, drowning out the beat of the music. Her voice was low and furious, “Strippers I was willing to turn a blind eye to but you've brought these floozies in here to leave there mark on him. How am I to bed him when he smells like the uncleaned toilet of a ghetto whorehouse?”

Patrick rubbed his throbbing cheek. “Gingernut he didn't do anything. I mean he had a lap dance and watched the girls perform that's all. Ow,” he exclaimed when she slapped his other cheek.

She jabbed her index finger at him, punctuating her words, “Is that what you were having? I may not know a lot about bedding men but I know fornication when I see it.”

“Dylan had a regular lap dance then he left shortly afterward.”

Carolina squinted at Patrick, her voice loud and fury-filled, “You're lying. I could smell at least five different women on him.”

“Gingernut, it's not what you think. It was all very innocent.”

She looked at him scornfully. “Ye think me dimwitted to boot. In my presence, you swore yourself to him. I know what that means: You'd lie to your own fathers and bring forth Hydra, Caecus, The Gorgons, and Grendel from lifetimes past only to slay them again with your bare hands if he asked, so fucking me over is no big deal.”

“Carolina you will not use such abusive language in my presence. I did what I thought would please you, made him of my family and I of his.”

She banged her balled fist against her thigh. “The two of you are brothers, now so buddy, buddy that you procure whores for him. Before, you made me believe you were concerned with my feelings, let me think I could count on you but all along you've been set on making me miserable, scaring off my first fiancee and now setting your favor on Dylan as you did with Ciaran. Whatever I ask takes a back seat. I bet you didn't talk to your babes as I asked because you were too busy sneaking these jezebels in under my nose. But, if they don’t drink at feeding time, I’ll fill your shorts with fire ants. Now show me those who dared wiggle their scabby snatches against my fiancée.”

Carolina watched the three Savage brothers make a hurried b-line for the far end of the room just as five bare breasted entertainers approached her and she didn't wait for an exchange of words. Letting out a war-whoop she flew into the group, kicking, punching and biting, their collective flailing bodies toppling Patrick backwards out of his chair, onto the floor with a heavy thud where he quickly scampered on his hands and knees to escape being trod upon. Her pink robe was pulled from her body leaving her completely exposed, but she continued fighting, intent on making the women think twice before they threatened the happiness of another unsuspecting bride-to-be.

When Dylan walked in, shirtless and wearing jeans, he saw Carolina's nude form, beautifully glistening, entwined on the floor with the five exotic dancers who'd performed for him. Her strong legs were wrapped around one stripper's neck, her round backside sitting on top of a petite brunette's back, the long locks of two blonds were clutched in one tightly clenched fist and her other arm formed a vice around the neck of the red haired, pink leather thonged performer. His first reaction was to laugh until he saw the frightening level of desire his brothers and Patrick were trying to disguise as they watched her glowing and vibrating body. With an air-traffic controller's wave, he got the men's attentions and signaled for them to cover their eyes but they all grinned stupidly at him and shrugging in unison, they continued staring. Dylan's humor vanished and a seething, jealous rage took its place.

He stomped into the fray, pulling Carolina off the other women. Hurriedly scooping up the discarded robe, he covered her luminescent body and gloriously heaving breast. Completely ignoring the dancers, he addressed her in a persuasive tone, “Honey that's enough. They were doing their jobs. I told you I didn't enjoy it.”

She pulled away from him, brushing curly strands of disarrayed hair from her eyes and face. “You liked that fake red-haired hussy well enough. Her stench was deeply embedded in the weave of your boxers as if she'd been burrowing into your lap trying to take root. Through the thick fabric of your jeans, those witches were able to put their stamp on you. I'm surprised pink thong's acidic cunt juice didn't sear your privates off.” Glaring around him Carolina spied the dyed-haired tart and lunged in her direction.

Dylan blocked her path, kept stepping in the way as she tried passing him to reach her target, until she, huffing and puffing, ceased her pursuit of the dancer. “I need you to calm down and consider what you've done. You have children to care for. They're important, not what went on here.”

“Ah-ha, you admit something did go on.” Standing so close to him, her nose was assaulted again by the smell of those women on his person. The putrid odor of month old garlicky sardine oil sprinkled mackerel left out in the blazing sun filled her nostrils and she realized he'd dressed in the same jeans he'd had on earlier. Her hands moved with speed and precision, quick, agile fingers reaching in and searching his front pockets. She excavated a folded napkin with a name and phone number scrawled upon it in bold handwriting accompanied by a pink lipstick kiss. Carolina waved the napkin in his face before she tore it to bits, tossing the pieces in the air like white confetti. Her tone was lethal, “So help me if I thought you'd tapped her fetid well I'd let the silicone out of her breasts and break all your guitar strings.”

She turned to the assembled dancers and still blinded by fury yanked open the front of her robe to expose her breasts, her hands stroking and jostling them at the huddled women. “These are real you silicone she-devils. Dylan doesn't need your toxic tits.” Belting the robe, she then twirled around and raised its hem to expose the full curves of her derrière, which she bounced, patted and caressed, swaying it enticingly at the group. “Take a good look because I'll soon be finding your mates and scooting these halves all over them and I guarantee when I'm through, be they man or woman, they'll leave you for me and you'll know how it feels to be blindsided.”

Allowing the hem to fall back in place Carolina looked into Dylan's disapproving eyes then physically pushed him, trying to get him out of her way. When he wouldn’t budge, she clenched her fists at her sides and ordered through gritted teeth, “They have three minutes to get out of this house, one second past and I’ll let loose Fire on them.” She righted the toppled chair and sat smoothing the robe over her thighs, watching as Patrick hurried the women out.

When he reentered, Patrick approached her tentatively, stopping a good distance away. “Gingernut, I'm sorry. I didn't think you would get so upset. Dylan and I both love you. I swear he did nothing untoward with those girls. Let's kiss and make up.”

She frowned contemptuously at him. “I'll not kiss ye, miserable wretch. If this was your plan to make him leave me at the altar, I will not let it work. I know now you never loved me. You sought to make him abandon me with a brood of babes so I'd crawl to you for scraps of affection. But I warn you Patrick, if he does not legally bind himself to me on the morrow I will cut your fecking heart out and see ye in Hell.”

He knew she was everlastingly in love with him so he did not entertain the notion that she meant what she was saying. With a dimpled smile, he softly assured her, “Gingernut you know I've adored you since the day we met. Calm yourself, and you’ll realize I am due partial credit for getting you and Dylan together. I have only ever wanted your happiness, the very best for you. Tis why I never legally wed ye. You deserve more than I can ever be.”

Her fay family had assured her they had her best interest at heart too and they'd deceived her. She felt he was lying, that their entire life had been based on deceit for his own selfish reasons. Sorrow dampened her fire, causing her voice to break, “I credit you with blinding me. You were the only man I ever lay with before Dylan and you hid from me the secret ways of passion so he's forced to seek out other women, first Liz and now those tramps. Was I not an apt pupil? Did I not eagerly do all you ever asked?”

Kneeling before her he caressed her cheek, wiped the wetness from her lashes. “You were everything I ever wanted. There was nothing I needed to teach you. I knew pure pleasure in your arms, perfection beyond the rights of a mere mortal. What you gave me jeopardized the purpose of my existence. How could I live and work as an earthling when you loved me like a god. I had to let you go.”

Her distress caused her to shake and with unsteady fingers, she brushed his hand away. “You belittled my appeal, told him I wasn't good enough, and boasted that you hadn't taken me in six years to prove I have insufficient womanly charms. But it's your fault I can't give him what he truly needs. Then to further salt my wounds, you sneak those women in to pleasure him under the roof that is to be my home, where my babes rest, allowing cyprians the opportunity to steal him away. You even dared to mock me, picked a fake fiery haired lass to fuel his desire, wearing his favorite color over her poisonous pit as an alternative to me. Was it not an egregious enough insult to my sexuality that he writhed atop my resting place with the whore Liz not even a week ago? You should still be filling his ear with reprimand for that offense. I know the truth now; saw with my own eyes tonight that you have a mighty hankering for her yourself. I bet you were upon her as soon as my back was turned to really torture me.”

“'Tis not true sweet Gingernut. I respect and prize thee above all mortal women.”

The noise was back in her head amplified to a soul shattering pitch and she covered her ears to drown out the sound. From beneath the layers of deafening breakage came the voices shouting out the truth she long denied, had been recently told but had chosen ignorant bliss over rightness. She began to shake from head to toe and without uttering a word, fell upon Patrick, wanting to hurt him as he’d done her. Drawing her fist back she was ready to bop him royally when she heard Vienna crying out for him, begging her not to fight with him because she didn't ever want to go back to foster care. Shutting her mind to her little girl, Carolina jumped off him just as quickly as she'd pounced to take up her seat again. With murder still in her eyes, she watched as he righted himself before her to kneel once again and she didn't care. Though she was physically still, her emotions were like a speeding car on a long stretch of black ice and though she instinctively clutched his medallion for strength and protection, there would be no stopping the inevitable wreckage. Her voice was angry and trembling but barely above a whisper, “You respect and prize me so that you stole from my womb our sons the day you claimed my first true maidenhead. Then the day after deflowering me you skulked off for a ménage a trois with my brother and his wife, filled her womb with our children while mine sat empty and longing for your noble babes. You are cruel and wicked. I was your savior, gave you my heart when I was but a lass of eight, slayed over a dozen men for you of my own will to restore your honor within the same year and was your faithful fille de joie until a few weeks past though you have not desired me for what feels like a century. I waited like a fecking brainless twit, for ye to honor me, as should be my right for all that I've given and done for you, holding my breath and secretly praying every day that you'd raise me from the knees of a harlot to a place of dignity at your side. I should have been taken to your true home as your wife, given pride before your entire family, but instead my brother and his wife reside there. The whole time you were laughing at me with him and Clover, giving to them what I so desperately wanted. You denied me children and my right to love you so that Dylan had to give me your sons and tell me the truth of my own blood twins being stolen by you and your loved one. The nefariousness of your being, Patrick Camulus Dante Donovan, knows no bounds and you are set to darken my intended with your ways. I now know you murdered Cliff and George, lied to me about them being alive on the East Coast, again resorting to thievery of a child to garner favor. Though you've gifted me Vienna as a daughter, who by-the-by is not a bit fay as you tried convincing me, for your magic, power and penchant for captivation fills her, 'tis not enough to make amends for all the wrongs you've showered upon me. May God-”

“I beg you, don't do this. I am humbled, on my knees before thee,” he wailed.

She closed her eyes and started over, “May God forgive me for my sins against him and my faith, but I see ye no longer, you miserable cur. You are cast forever from my children and me. Leave here at once or I'll block your seeing Ciaran.”

Patrick felt tortured. He reached out to her, crying, “You don't mean it Gingernut.”

Opening her eyes, she stared straight through him as if he were invisible, and then turned away, looking toward Dylan's brothers, her vision blurred by brimming tears. “You three, I loved as my human kin and you allowed Dylan to be sullied. I even revealed my true spirit to you, presenting you with gifts of your brother's devotion and thought you were accepting of me, now I know I was a fool. If you wanted me not in your family, why did you let me come to care for you, your wives and children? It would have been kinder to cast me into the ocean and let the sharks tear me apart. My true family threw me away. Why did I expect differently from you?”

Chris gave her a sympathetic look. “Now gal, stop right there. You are-”

With a wave of her hand, she silenced him, not willing to hear what she felt would amount to a hill of lies. “From the beginning Chris, you made no secret of your disgust for me but I thought and felt you'd grown to care for me as a sister, now I know the truth. Even my babes don't want me, preferring the sweet tits of Vega, Sarah and Hannah to my peppery milk.” She let out a pained yowl, bowing her head at the memory of her perceived absolute rejection, shoulders shaking, with tears cascading down her cheeks.

Dylan could see, hear that she was really worked-up and knew her tirade wasn't solely about a few lap dances and finding a woman's telephone number in his pocket. She was still fretting over Patrick's not marrying her legally. But whatever the case, she needed to accept that her outburst had been disgraceful, her immodesty totally inexcusable, and make amends to the people she'd offended. “Carolina, there's no need to take that tone with everyone. I've explained and you'll accept what I say or I'll paddle your rump. Also, for the last time, Patrick can't legally wed you now, accept and get over it. But, you know he loves you. So, you'll see him. He's not cast out and you'll not interfere with his relationship with Ciaran.”

Swiping her palms across her wet cheeks, she humphed mightily. “I'll do as I please, and if you keep at me you'll find yourself beyond the doghouse.”

He clenched his fists. Gosh darn it she was mouthy and infuriating. If he wanted such misery, he could remarry Liz and let her finish sucking the life out of him. “Don't sass me. You are to be my wife, are the mother of my children but you've revealed yourself to my brothers in a more intimate fashion than those strippers. For that and your attack on Patrick you will apologize.”

She sniffed, wiping at her eyes. “No, I won't. When I walked in they were all getting their poles greased by those low-rent curb-crawlers. Had you stayed I'm sure they would have talked you into similar carnal intrigue. They should apologize for allowing me to bear witness to such debauchery. However, you make me out to be the vulgar one. I greased no poles this night Dylan Savage nor am I likely to do so for several moons since you held that floozy’s kiss in your pocket.”

“Woman I've already told you what I thought would be easiest for you to accept. But if you must know the whole truth, it was your three eldest sons who created this mess with that pink wearing gal, not Patrick. They've been on a course of well-intentioned mischief making to test my devotion to you and separate Patrick from us.”

She gaped at him in disbelief. He was already so totally corrupted by that galaxy traveling thief that he would lay the blame upon her sons without hesitation, the three least likely candidates to even know such a woman existed least of all be able to hire her for a party. “Don't waste your breath. You are shameful, standing before me with no qualms about laying the blame for another's misdeeds upon the heads of my innocent sons. Since you've bound yourself to that villainous backstabber, you've taken to murder, stealing and lying. I'm of a mind to pack all my children up and leave you for such wrongdoing and your foul accusations. Would you also have me believe they hired a crotch fairy to secret that napkin in your pocket or they called forth invisible mermaids still reeking of the sea to drop by and magically soak your jeans with stinking fish juices, without your awareness?”

“Carolina, honey-”

Extending both her palms toward him she shouted, “Silence your lying tongue. I'll not be suckered by you, as I was by that scoundrel you’re bound to. We'll not speak again of your accusations against my sons least I'm unable to refrain from changing you physically into the jackass you are. I'm going to bed and ye need not follow. It's your turn to sleep out with the crickets, or better yet, bunk in the stables in case I awake in the night and decide being a donkey is really the punishment you deserve.” She rose to her feet only to have him forcefully push her back down.

His voice was low and threatening, “I said, apologize.”

With her hands gripping the arms of the chair, she gave a yelp of outrage, “You filthy goat, how dare you lay hands upon me and block my path. Don't think because I've had your babes that I won't blacken your eye. I'm of a-”

Chris, clearing his throat loudly, interrupted her and when he had everyone's attention, he tried diffusing the situation. “Dylan, we all have wives, except Patrick here. It's not like we haven't seen a butt-naked woman before and judging by what's been said, Patrick's seen her in the raw plenty of times. So, there’s no need to get your boxers bunched up. Cut her some slack. She's most likely acting all crazed cause she's hormonal. Hell, she's been shootin' out babies like a Pez dispenser.”

Jesse nodded in agreement. “We just hadn't seen her naked butt before, and now that we have I must say it’s damn fine. She's got more junk in her trunk than all those strippers put together. Damn, when she smacked and shook it at us I nearly went off like a Roman candle,” he offered with a huge grin, not trying to be helpful at all.

With a wolfish whistle Frank added, “Man, her performance was hotter than hell. When she takes up pole greasin' again I'm gonna be first in line.”

His brother's taunts rankled on Dylan's nerves. He felt embarrassed and impotent. “Carolina, apologize and let’s go.”

“No.” She folded her arms across her chest in defiance.

“If you don't, I'm going to the kitchen to toss out all the honey and that darn chili sauce you've been gobblin' up,” he seriously threatened.

She was mad, scared and grieving, not thinking straight. “If you do, I'll fly away and find fifty men willing to let me wriggle around on them and grease their poles for good measure. Just because you and Patrick don't want me doesn't mean there aren't tons of guys who'd cut off a limb to have at me. When I'm done, I'll come back and hop in your bed. We'll see how you like it.”

Frank and Jesse were inching up their hands to volunteer when Chris slapped them both behind their blond heads then stated, “Dylan I wish we could stay and help you out, but I think we better go before some people end up making the situation worse.”

Chris pointed Frank, Jesse and a crestfallen Patrick to the door. As they passed in front of Carolina, she shoved the Savage brothers into Dylan's path. Daringly she tried to flee past them and make her escape but Dylan snagged her wrist and held her in place. Struggling, she kicked him hard in the shin and immediately felt herself lifted off the ground by her upper arms, and shook violently.

Dylan's voice rumbled, deep and alarming, “Be still or I'll take my belt to you.”

Patrick looked at Dylan holding Carolina in anger and felt possessive of her, conflicted because of his bond with the other man. “Maybe you should release her and the two of you sleep apart tonight?”

Dylan gave Patrick a fed up look, “You should fix it so these three forget they saw her tonight and erase from my mind the fact that she's so in love with you my soul aches in response or I'll not be responsible for the misery I let loose.” Not waiting for an answer, Dylan lowered a jolted Carolina to her feet, gripping her upper arm tightly.

She felt the violence in his touch, saw such anger in his eyes she feared he'd hurl her across the room but most disturbing was the realization that he felt intensely hurt and unbelievably betrayed. Snapped out of her fury she wanted to shrink down and runaway, hide beneath a dense planting of blanket flowers to conceal her shame. Placing her palms on his chest, her voice was squeaky and woeful, “Dylan I'm sorry. I was afraid, thinking you were leaving me and I lost my temper.” She turned to the other men speaking sincerely, “I've been disrespectful, am ashamed and sorry. Please forgive me, though I don't deserve it-”

Loud bawling from the doorway behind Dylan cut across her words and all eyes focused on the four children, three looking remorseful and the other absolutely inconsolable. Both Dylan and Carolina extended their arms to the little girl at the same time but she ran beyond them to the comfort of Patrick's embrace where he lifted her up to rest her sobbing face against his shoulder. Of the three boys in the doorway, one stepped forward to explain, “Mom, what dad said is partially true about that woman. But Calder and Callum had no part in the plan and Vienna has worked herself up into a tizzy trying to persuade me to come down here and confess. I planned to let Patrick take the blame for what I'd done so you'd send him away and focus all your devotion on dad. Earlier today, I read your insecurities so I'd know what violation you'd be least likely to forgive. The stripper with the red hair was something I created to make you furious with Patrick, hoping you'd believe he was putting temptation in dad's path. I caused the note to appear in dad's pocket when he came upstairs to check on us, because I didn't think you'd be angry enough without some tangible proof of Patrick's influence over him. Although I'm part Donovan, because while Patrick robbed you of my brothers, I stole his essence just before I was delivered unto my human father, I’m foremost Savage and your fay child, my duty is all the more to you as my mother. Please don't hate me mom. My actions were always to ensure your happiness, even the issue with Liz earlier today and this evening, when she visited you, were in various ways instigated by me. This all started after you refused to see dad and me. I wasn't set to stop until you were my mother again and his wife. I allowed myself to be hurt and compounded the issue by taking that medication so you'd come back to us. I never needed the therapist or you to heal me, then or today, because I'm fully capable of doing so myself. I had to have you and my brothers back with me and dad, where you belong.”

Carolina reached for Justin to pull him into her embrace but Dylan restrained her. She knew better than to pull away from him by the dark look that continued clouding his face. Carolina comforted her eldest son as much as she could with her lilting voice, “Thank you for telling me the truth and taking responsibility for your actions. Now, collect Vienna and your brothers, then go back to bed, all of you.”

Justin looked beyond his mother to Patrick who still held the very upset Vienna and reading no acrimoniousness in the dark fiery eyes he breathed a little easier until his gaze swiveled to meet Dylan's and he sadly beseeched, “Dad?” They stood looking at each other for long tense moments and it wasn't until the tears ran unchecked down the boy's cheeks and Vienna wiggled free from Patrick's arms to run over and stand protectively in front of Justin, tightly clutching his hands that Dylan relented with an almost imperceptible incline of his head. The boys gloomily retreated then with the little girl walking along at their sides, trying to comfort them.

Carolina felt Dylan angrily spin her around to face his brothers once again and she hiccupped to hold back a deluge of emotion before stammering, “Patrick, I have wronged you terribly and I wouldn't blame you for eternally shunning me. You are my first consort and I've forever loved thee. For the sake of my new life and family I wish it were not so but I fear if you asked me to leave this all behind, even with no promises of forever being extended to me, I would. That you make no such demands should be proof of you're caring for me. Today when you felt my longing for the babe, I feared lost, and set about righting the situation in the most expeditious fashion you could imagine I should have seen that you are truly devoted to me though you will not have me as a legitimate mate and bed companion. In all honesty, I fear I'll never accept that you won't legally wed me and I'm torn because I love and desire Dylan so desperately that the thought of another woman being with him makes me crazy and physically ill. I struggle with my desire for the two of you. The fear of loosing him ignites my anguish over you and I not being together and not being with you makes me feel he'll leave me at any moment. I don't expect ye to understand but please accept that I'm very sorry.”

Dylan didn't wait for a response to her impassioned words. He turned away from the men with Carolina's arm still held firmly in his grasp, silently marching her back to their bedroom where he pushed her into the bathroom, yanked off their garments and shoved her into the shower. Joining her he scrubbed them both under the forceful jets, was rough on her skin, rubbing and lathering first with his hands and lavender soap, then with the bath brush, followed by a course of similarly fragrant but extremely gritty exfoliating scrub until she was crying loudly and struggling. He wanted to rid her of Liz's touch, of the strippers' oily residue, cleanse her of the smells of tobacco, whiskey and the pungent, clinging odor of his brothers' desire and most of all he wanted to strip her unwavering love for Patrick from between them. The more he scoured the madder he got because he kept seeing Chris, Frank and Jesse ogling her body that never would have been exposed if she'd listened to him, trusted him, loved him and most of all there was the matter of Patrick.

Chapter 25

He raised the flat side of the brush and brought the wood angrily down; smacking her thigh then slapping the heavy instrument of punishment against the fleshy curve of her other hip harder than he had the first. Her wet palms tried to push him away and shield herself at the same time. Angrily, Dylan ignored her efforts, repeatedly delivering blows up and down her flesh, from hip to mid-thigh, as she kept trying to ward them off. Furiously he swatted her hands down until she stood sobbing, unprotected and defenseless. Gripping her chin, he forced her to meet his eyes saying furiously, “You are my children's mother. You will behave as such in the presence of others at all times, resume being the woman I fell in love with or I swear I'll spank you til you can't sit down. Do you understand?”

Nodding, she cleared tears from her voice to say, “Yes, I understand.” To show that she was repentant, she lifted trembling arms to embrace him.

He didn't believe she even had a clue. Still mad as a March hare, Dylan jostled her to the back of the shower, hot-bloodedly ordering, “Turn around and put your hands on the wall.” He studied her as she did as she was told. Reaching back, he soaked the bamboo of his makeshift paddle in the hot running water, telling her through gritted teeth, “For thirteen years my life was a nightmare, being manipulated and lied to, married to Liz. She’d lift her skirt for anyone, do anything to get what she wanted not because I didn’t satisfy her, give her almost every material thing she ever asked for, but because she could. I'll not tolerate it again. You'll keep yourself covered woman, befitting a wife, mother and saint. Your body is for my eyes alone, not my brothers' or other men. Always consider how your public behavior will reflect on our children. I'm not telling you to deny your feelings but I'm warning you to keep 'em in check.”

He swung the wet wood and the sound of the makeshift paddle contacting her damp backside was like the mesmerizing crack of lightning, her pained scream a dark aphrodisiac stirring the sexual violence within his tortured soul. Drawing his arm back, he swung again, his breathing growing heated as the brush made contact, her rippling and reddening flesh further stirring his desire. He wanted to drop the paddle, shove her face-first up against the marble wall and ram his drumming rod into her tight rear until the visions of her flashing his brothers left his mind. Ideas of twisting his hands in her hair like reins as he controlled and rode her roughly, made his muscles quiver.

The urgency of his desire for her was terrifying and he felt the handle slipping from his grasp just as his brother's taunts filled his ears. Tightening his grip, without mercy for either of them, he increased the strength of each blow he delivered to her bottom because of what she'd done, his brothers' reactions, his increasing need and slipping control. He punished her until she was crying loudly and shaking. Her ample bottom swayed and shimmied with the beauty of a belly dancer's, raised welts, the rich coral-red of Prelude raspberries, standing out against her white flesh. She was beyond pretentious beauty, this was bare, raw, elemental appeal that called to him and he knew if he answered, he'd reveal his true need and risk loosing her.

Carolina's backside burned and throbbed. The skin from her hips down to her knees felt as if hundreds of Harvester ants were stinging her. She was in agony, trying to escape him, dancing one way then the other, hoping to elude his fury but she had nowhere to run. Her cries were sincere but she felt no love and was granted no mercy from her treacle bear. She feared she'd driven him from her by brandishing a burning torch in his face and for that, she must atone to regain his favor, accept with honor and humility the thrashing he prescribed and dispensed. Never had she been punished so, as either a full fay or in her human life. Only once in her lives had a loved one smacked her. It had been her meadow father taking his hand to her tail end, giving her three gentle swats, for stealing honey from the hives throughout the countryside. She'd not been reformed, had continued her headstrong raiding. However, the discipline Dylan was subjecting her to made her want to give up her fiery ways temporarily, operate for a time only from the meadow portion of her spirit. She cried out her remorse, “What I did was wrong. I'm undeserving of my children and of you.” Trying not to shift away from the paddling he continued subjecting her to she wailed, “I beg for deliverance from my ungovernable rage and my wicked need for retaliation so that I may be a dutiful wife and responsible mother. I can be better, can be worthy of your love. Now- Oww, ouch, owwie.” Her skin was on fire and she could no longer stop her feet and hips from moving frantically, desperately shifting away from his blows.

“Be still woman,” he angrily commanded, swatting her again, his hand hurting from the force of the strike. He felt anguished, pressure building behind his eyes, because he hadn't ever wanted this with her. Nevertheless, there he was, fully aroused by the sight of her quivering flesh and rising welts. Abruptly he ceased the punishment, willing himself not to press up against her and rub his erection over the red bruising on her posterior. Taking several ragged breaths, he calmed his raging desires and warned her, “I will not have you opening yourself to the lust of my brothers, or other men. All of them tonight would have enticed you to their beds. I could see the raging desire on their faces and that man from this morning was ready to mount you before my eyes. He and his associate died for his transgression. Don't invite problems by acting foolishly, because as much as I love my brothers I will bar them from this house, from the majority of my life if I feel I can't trust them around you. They told you before that all of my former girlfriends left me for them, but the truth is that I let them go, including Vega. Relinquishment is not an option between us Carolina and make no mistake, because I've told you before and have proven that I’ll follow through on the threat, that if you, in anyway, give yourself to another man it will be the end of his life.” He hung the brush on the shower caddy then shut off the water. Turning back to her, he found her in the same position, palms flat against the marble wall, head bent, back toward him and thankfully no longer crying. Walking up to her, he gently touched her shoulder urging her to face him. Taking her hand, he helped her from the shower, wrapping her in a thick towel before escorting her into the bedroom.

****

Standing beside the oak chiffonier, Carolina held the towel tightly to her breasts. On one hand, she was contrite, wanting to be good and pious, prove to Dylan that she'd conformed to his will but the other hand was presenting her with some big problems. She couldn't tear her eyes from his masterful physique. Her unbridled, fiery nature wanted her to fall back upon the bed and demand that he slate her sexual thirst. She closed her eyes to his magnificence, hoping to smother her fire. In a weak, mousy voice she pleaded, “Please don't be angry anymore treacle bear at me or our sons.”

He pulled open a drawer and took out a navy blue pajama top. Holding it out to her he commanded, “Come here.”

On unsteady legs, she approached him. “Am I to put that on?”

“Yes. But first turn around.” She moved so her back was to him and he swept the heavy length of her damp hair over her shoulder to unfasten first his mother's necklace, then the medallion Patrick had given her.

Carolina touched her fingers to her bare throat, her lips moving in silent apology. She didn't want to be sent away. Her place was at his side with their family as his devoted wife. Blinking rapidly she gripped her left hand with her right, trying to stave off what was sure to come. This time she had no curse to blame, this mess was of her own making. When she felt him trying to reposition her she resisted, pulling away. Terror had her on the verge of shape shifting, so she could fly away until he calmed down and resumed caring for her, but he caught hold of her and yanked her around.

“You better not shift or take off running,” he warned, reaching for her left hand.

She snatched it away, crossing her wrists behind her back, shaking her head in refusal. “No. No. Please don't. I love you, will do anything.”

Dylan's voice was domineering, “Stop resisting then. Give me your hand.”

She drew the requested appendage into sight, her fingers unsteady, and when he stripped his mother's engagement ring from her hand the room began spinning, her knees buckling and she felt invisible hands steadying her, his mother's lips against her cheek, then she was gone. Carolina looked into Dylan's eyes that were as black as the darkest night. Silently she begged fire to go away, Dylan wasn't happy with that part of her spirit. He needed the sweet, tenderness of her meadow side.

Dylan helped her into the pajama top, quickly fastening the buttons, being careful not to touch her skin. “Go and feed the babes then come straight back to bed.”

Rubbing her naked ring finger, she hesitated; perhaps if they went together he’d start thinking better of her and give at least the ring back. “Will you come with me?”

“No. Hurry along.” He'd yet to recover from the only time he'd seen her start to feed baby Patrick. If he went into the nursery with her, the babes would never drink because he'd be all over her, so filled with lust at the sight of her beautiful breasts nourishing his children that he'd have to rush her back to the bedroom to get inside her.

“Alright.” Walking away Carolina's body registered such pain she didn't think she'd successfully make the short trip next door to the nursery. Her backside stung and her arms hurt. The biggest ache, however, was in her heart, fearing he’d banish her from his and the children’s lives, and needing to be near them she’d be forced to hide out in the lavender field until she wasted away.

As she entered the nursery, she once again touched her bare throat and chest. Slowly she moved over to the first crib and picked up baby Patrick, carrying him to the loveseat where she sat and offered him her breast. He latched on, drinking hungrily and although she should have been relieved, taken the change in his behavior as a good omen, she felt forsaken, fearing that upon her return to the bedroom Dylan would have her bags packed and she couldn't dare turn to Patrick for comfort.

Chapter 26

Back in their room, she stood staring at the bed Dylan had completely redressed in navy blue linens. The coverings she'd crafted had been removed and he was also missing. The tiny bits of hope she'd clung to started slipping through her fingers.

Walking to the bathroom door, she knocked timidly, calling out his name. When there was no answer, she entered and at one of the twin basins, she unbuttoned the pajama top in order to wash the milk tackiness from her skin. She applied a natural soap and warm water to a washcloth, bathing her still full and aching breasts with light circular sweeps. Concentrating on her sore nipples, she winced at each pass of the textured cotton.

From the doorway, Dylan studied her profile, the artistic lines of her lovely face, how the fall of her thick curly hair veiled the breast she was bathing. He fleetingly thought about offering to assume the task but he had needs that could no longer be denied. His voice was smoky and impatient, “I thought you'd be in bed.”

Looking up from her task, she met his still black gaze in the mirror, feeling her cheeks burn under his scrutiny. Her hand stilled, then shook nervously in anticipation. Wringing out the cloth she hung it up, shyly offering an explanation, “They were sticky.”

He'd hoped they would be, had wanted to lick them clean. “When will you feed the babes again?”

“Around four. They drank a lot just now, even little Pat and Cam,” she offered, wanting to demand her jewelry back. She needed to know he still loved her, that they'd be wedded tomorrow. There was no question he still desired her, it was in his hungry look, was the same way she felt about him every second of the day. Earlier in the shower while he'd been giving her a hiding, she'd wanted him to take her as he had the night of their first engagement party, had craved the feel of him slamming against her bruised skin, the huge, long length of him giving her the hedonistic torment she'd been longing for but had been hesitant to request. Frightened of her wanton thoughts, she didn't face him. He didn't want her fiery passion.

“Turn around and let me see you,” he was watchful as she followed his request. “You get more beautiful every day. Tonight your skin has the luster of pearls and your hair is the red-orange of firelight.” Walking over to her, he stroked his fingers across the swell of her breast. When she winced, he grit his teeth imagining sucking on her nipples as he kneaded each pale globe. Drawing in a mind-clearing breath he told her, “I'm sorry about earlier, but I needed you to understand how serious I am. I never wanted to touch you in anger and I swear I'll do all I can not to resort to such behavior ever again if you simply obey one of the few things I'll ever demand of you.”

Meeting his gaze she vowed, “I won't ever behave again as I did earlier.” Except when it was just the two of them, her inner being guaranteed, then her fire spirit could be free and he'd enjoy her abandon. Having that self-assurance she wanted to cling to him, run her palms up under his t-shirt, caress the sculpted perfection of his muscular chest, then slide her hands down into his pajamas to grip his strong maleness and passionately admit that she wanted him to bring the brush to bed, with them without fear of rejection. Carolina felt a volcano of emotion bubbling up inside her but she was afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing so she opted for the safest bet, to try to think as a mother and saint would, mentally dousing her dominant fire fay desires. “I live to honor thee,” she quiescently pledged, lowering her lashes shyly.

The alluring acquiescence in her voice and eyes, combined with the decadent lacteal smell she couldn't wash off had him pushing the soap dispenser aside to lift her onto the marble counter and when she cried out in pain as her battered buttocks contacted the hard surface he groaned aloud, loosing his last vestige of self-control. Yanking off his t-shirt and stepping out of his pajama bottoms, he grasped her full hips, pulling her to the edge of the counter. Searching her beautiful face and sparkling eyes he brutally rammed his throbbing member into her slick honeypot, his fingers caressing the raised welts on the upper part of her curvaceous buttocks, declaring, “Every time we're together I'm harder than the time before.” He thrust deeply, vigorously, showing, then telling her, “Feel what you do to me.”

Carolina wanted to make a sinful plea as his massive penis repeatedly cored her, the ultra-sensitive petals of her delicate woman's flower were forced open farther than she'd ever experienced. Tentatively touching the rounded muscles of his shoulders, allowing her palms to settle lightly on his smooth skin, gently assuring him she was his to do as he pleased. Widening her legs, she allowed him to push deeper, whimpering as the skin of her buttocks throbbed.

Dylan stopped thrusting and rolled his hips against her slowly, sliding in and out, gentling himself. Lowering his mouth to hers, he tasted her spicy, flower-sweet flavor, licking then sucking on her tongue until he felt her nails digging into his shoulders. Releasing her lips, his mouth traveled along the side of her face to her ear where he teased the virgin lobe, sucked it into his mouth then bit down hard as his hips rotated against hers. Once again, he found his ruthless rhythm, shoving his swollen length in-and-out, the force of his thrusts causing her buttocks to slide on the marble.

With his every lunge, she held back lusty cries, the pain in her ear steadily increasing and eventually she reverently sighed her pleasured anguish, “Please, it hurts.” She left off, 'oh, so good', but she was thinking it as the hot, crisp, airy smell of him filled her nose. He stretched her, his rod throbbing, strong teeth fastening on her ear, gnawing, making her feel consumed. She kissed his shoulder, licked his skin, sucked on the mound of his pectoral muscle. With all that she was, she desired him.

Groaning into her ear, he thrust harder, his fingernails digging into the thick ridges the brush had left on her otherwise smooth flesh. His gravelly voice rolled forth, enticing, stirring red tendrils of hair near her cheek, “Be my everything, just this once.” Rubbing the rough stubble of his jaw against her soft cheek, he puffed air into her ear with every vicious inward thrust, feeling her tremble and shiver. “I need all that you are, want to make love to every part of you.”

From the moment he'd first spoken to her with his voice full of Texas grit that pleasingly slid over her skin like rough sandpaper, she'd been his, why had she ever tried denying it? She drew back to look at him and let him see her, stating emphatically, “Not just once. Always.” Placing her lips to the side of his neck she kissed his smooth, warm skin before tightly clamping her teeth on the corded muscles, sucking strongly, feeling his calloused fingers pinch along the sides of her waist, up her torso to her aching breasts and tender nipples. There she felt him squeeze her sensitive skin in time with the pounding of his enormous rod into her, until she muffled her scream against the side of his neck.

Carolina's muted shout sent vibrations into his throat. Her tight body clenched and unclenched on his iron piston as he felt the first sizzle of electrical current start its zing and burn behind the region of his navel and hoarsely he demanded, “Kiss me.” He felt her arms close around his neck. Then her lips touched his, parting to welcome the thrust of his tongue. Continuing to pump into her honeyed hive, he finally ushered her into his darkness. An explosive shock of electrical energy sparked from within his body, traveling the length of his penis into her and he stopped moving to see her truly feel him for the first time, watching as her skin flushed the, pale pink of a cherry blossom.

With widened eyes, she released him to fan her face with both hands, arching her back and neck, shaking her head from side-to-side, her hair undulating down her back. She was being pleasantly shocked, experiencing countless sequential orgasms that made her breathing heavy, her teeth chatter as if she were freezing cold. Shamelessly she cried out, “Oh yes, please don't stop. It hurts so good, feels so hot.”

The words she chanted loudly made him resume his robust thrusts and gushes of electrical energy into her receptive socket. “That's right. I want you to want it, let me hear how much.” He thrust deep then withdrew, in, then out, sliding his hand up her torso to caress her arched neck, to feel the sounds she made, every whimper, moan and cry he felt as he also experienced the increasing intensity of the jolts leaving his penis to enter her clenching vagina. Her wordless sex serenade grew louder, tightening his grip on her neck his thrusting grew more urgent and frenzied until he heard the beginning vibrations in the bathroom mirrors, a low rattling to accompany the electrical hum their joined bodies were broadcasting and he knew he couldn't let it culminate, not with his babies sleeping only a room away. Cupping the back of her head, his fingers massaging her scalp he warned her, “I'm gonna pull out now, take you to bed. We've gotta stop.”

“No,” she cried in desperation. Straightening her back, she achingly beheld him, a nimbus seemingly surrounding his magnificent body. “Don't leave me like this. I burn so between my thighs and though I've had more orgasms this encounter than I've had in my lives combined, I will not make it through the night if you stop before my fires are completely doused.” She wrapped her arms and legs around him refusing to let him withdraw. “Take my nipple in your mouth, suck, then bite it. Move your powerful hips, grind them against me until I'm breathless, and then shock me as you did before with your mighty rod. I am your woman, your odalisque, and though I am unfit to make demands, I beg you not to deny me. Don't give me a taste of the greatest pleasure of my life then snatch the spoon away. Please treacle bear, I hunger so for you.”

He smoothed her hair, humming softly, trying to gentle her. “We're just getting started but we need to quiet down or we'll wake the babies.” With her still wrapped around him, he lifted her from the counter and started into the bedroom.

She bit his earlobe, unable to stop herself from purring saucily, “Don't forget the brush. I want you to take me from behind while wielding that wooden weapon of sensual war against my bum.”

Her words caused Dylan to experience intense muscle spasms of pure lust. He almost dropped her, had to stop walking and hold her tight until the sensations passed, and then he informed her, “We're done with that.” He carried her to the bed, placing her gently upon the mattress. “And no more jolts, they may affect your milk. The medium pink of your skin tells me you're already too hot.”

Carolina spread her legs wide, undulating seductively against the soft blanket. Holding his gaze, she slid her hands up to her breasts to fondle them, rubbing and pushing them together, “Go get the brush and I'll be forever at your mercy. I should have spoken my desire for you to plow me from the rear when you paddled me in the shower. However, I held my tongue. I'll be shy no longer. Come here treacle bear, taste me, and gauge my internal temperature. Tell me if my milk is still good and sweet.”

He didn't want that yet, so he ran a hand up one silken, shapely leg to the juncture of her thighs to stroke her short springy curls. His fingers separating her lips to dive into her steaming pool, steadily stroking, listening to her lusty cries. “Honey, I can satisfy you like this or we can do it the way you've wanted me to show you.”

“The second choice, definitely the second,” she eagerly panted raising and lowering her hips, making love to his skillful fingers.

“You have to stay quiet then and know the first time you make a sound above a whisper I'll stop whatever I'm doing and not finish you off.”

She groaned, gripping the blanket on either side of her, raising her hips so his fingers went further into her needful body, sighing, “I'll become mute if you'll just get about your business of loving me.”

Dylan smiled and removed his fingers from inside her tight opening, lowering his head to sample her honey, pressing his nose and lips snugly against her warmth. He kissed and sucked the delicate lips, the curls tickling his nose as he searched beyond to rescue the little man in the boat from his isolation, saluting him with several flicks of his skillful tongue until Carolina was thrusting her hips against his face, moaning his name. He slid his mouth back and forth, sucking gently then making strong demands on her tender flesh until he heard her panting hotly. Spearing his tongue, he pushed it inside her while his hands slid underneath her buttocks to lift her into his mouth. He tasted her spicy-sweet, lavender love liquid, while listening to her muffled sounds of pleasure until he withdrew his tongue and sank his teeth into her southern lips. Biting and pulling with alternating degrees of force, he focused on pleasuring her until she arched her back high, emitting a low and powerful rumble that started him shaking violently.

When his quaking subsided he pulled back to gentle her with long strokes of his hands from her neck to her hips until she lay flat against the mattress and her sultry sounds of gratification subsided. He moved away from her then, evading her clutching hands that tried to draw him back down. Standing at the side of the bed, he beheld her beauty. Her skin was passion flushed pink and her eyes fever bright, sparkling their unique creamy-green and black color. Her gorgeous breasts rose and fell as she breathed erratically. The only blemish to her perfection was the cut on her swollen lower lip that he guessed had been caused by her biting it to keep from crying out.

Carolina tasted her own blood and smelled the mingling fragrances of her sweat and passion combined with the warm airy scent of him. In his eyes, she saw concern and whispering hoarsely, she assured him, “I'm fine. Don't stop.” She watched him lean over her, his eyes, black and mysterious, drawing steadily closer, and then his lips touched hers. He bathed her wound with his tongue. The tiniest of jolts spreading sizzling warmth across her bottom lip until the cut was no more. His wide satisfied smile made itself felt against her lips then he kissed her properly, passionately and she sighed into his mouth her pleasure, then licked the sweet temptation of his tongue. He tasted of summer sunshine and a fast approaching storm. Feeling the stirring of the wind, she wrapped her arms tightly around his muscular back, bracing herself for the squall, but he pulled away.

Dylan rose and walked to each bedpost, reaching down to bring forth long binds of braided navy fabric, each equipped with release clips. From beneath the bed, he pulled a blue leather box. Opening it, he withdrew two pairs of blue leather cuffs with metal rings on the outer sides. He strapped the cuffs on her wrists and ankles then attached her to the blue binds. With Carolina bound and spread, he climbed on top of her, mirroring her posture. Against her lips he whispered, “When we're together like this you must always obey me and I swear I'll keep you safe, take care of you, love you until you're weak with satisfaction but still ravenous. Tell me you agree.”

She sighed into his mouth, “I do.”

His hands searched under the pillows on either side of her head. Against her lips he swore, “I am your husband Carolina Conway and you're my wife. We'll have the legal ceremony you and I both want tomorrow and now that I've bound you woman I'll bleed you, as requested, within the midnight hour. But you know, apart from either ceremony, you've always been mine.” From beneath the pillows, he withdrew twin silver daggers with lapis stones embedded in the handles. Placing the grip of each within her palm, he laid his hands over hers and laced their fingers together around the base of each blade. With his eyes locked on hers and their hands holding the daggers he slowly rocked the bulbous head of his penis against her clenched woman's opening until it gained entrance. Dylan moaned his familiar endearment for her. He then closed his eyes while thrusting deeply, pumping and pounding against her restrained body as she tried to move, the slight motions she could make extremely agitated, as she fought against the ties she’d wanted. He felt her wriggling and squirming as he crushed her beneath him, her breasts leaking warm milk onto his skin, the silver growing hot between their palms and though he hadn't expected it, glass throughout the room began to vibrate.

“Please release me. I need to touch and taste you,” she whispered huskily.

Thrusting his tongue into her mouth he continued pushing, moving and humping, while, listening to the vibrations all around him, the sharp, running sound of glass cracking. Ending their soul kiss, his left hand released hers to draw the sharp tip of the silver blade slowly down her side, tracing the adored curving lines of her body, as the motion of his hips continued, “Tell me you want it.”

She felt the warm, sharp blade outline the side of her body, moving slowly down to her thigh. Knowing no fear she firmly stated, “I need all that you are Dylan Savage.” As his name finished passing her lips, she felt the dagger thrust between them, to lay flat against her stomach with the blade pointing south as evidenced by the hard, piercing prick she was awarded below her navel each time he thrust forward.

“In order for me to live, lightning pierced my navel and the center of my chest,” he revealed drawing the second dagger down her other side, as he ground his hips clockwise against her. “I remember the sharp, hot pains even to this day, blue and silver streaks of light raining down, filling and giving me life.” Resuming his powerful thrusts, he kissed her passionately as he slid the second dagger between their bodies, with the blade nestled between her breasts and the handle pointing south. With tiny nips to her skin he nibbled his way across her jaw to her ear, his hips pumping faster, the rhythm erotically phrenetic as he demanded in a low rumble of thunder that caused more crackling glass sounds behind him, “Honey, make it rain for me.”

Carolina grew still, her voice low and serious, “Dylan, look at me.” When he turned his head to meet her gaze, she told him, “Tis not what I saw you doing with Liz. Ye only lay atop her spindly frame heartily humping away, making frenzied bestial noises. I thought twas what ye wanted from me as well. Perhaps squeezing my throat tighter, as you did hers, will be more satisfying, or unbind me and I'll suck thine rod til my jaws ache and my throat goes numb.”

Thrust. Grunt. Thrust. Moan. Thrust. He was unrelenting. “You wanted in on the darkness so don't go feelin' along the wall for the switch. Obey me; give me what I've needed since the beginning of time.”

She strained against the ties, “I am bound. How am I to juggle knives?”

“Absolute love sometimes requires doing the impossible.”

She thought for a few seconds. “Alright, but bleed me first. It's gone midnight.”

He slowed his movements coming to rest inside her. “What do I need to do?”

“We'll keep it simple. Slit our ring fingers and hold them together as each of us, in turn, pledges our undying love and devotion to the other.”

He lowered his head to tease her cheek with his hair, inhaling the sweet smell of nutty cream, “That's it?”

“Yep,” she wriggled, moving in a restrained but seductive figure eight.

Dylan removed the dagger from between her breasts and pricked the tip of her wedding ring finger, watching intently as a bright red bead of blood formed there. He repeated the action on his left hand, holding it up so she could see his commitment to her. Pressing his pricked finger to hers he declared, “I, Dylan Zeus Zachariah Savage promise to love Carolina Conway Savage until Heaven, Hell and the Universe cease to exist. I swear to be devoted to her always.”

“I, Carolina Heraserein Conway Savage promise to love Dylan Zeus Zachariah Savage until Heaven, Hell and the Universe cease to exist. I swear to be devoted to him always. Now kiss me, treacle bear, and let it all be done.”

Dylan kept his cut finger against hers as he placed a tender kiss on her mouth, feeling the tip of his ring finger begin to tingle and burn as if he'd been cutting hot peppers. When he raised his lips from hers and brought his hand before his eyes, he saw the cut was completely healed. Reverently he pressed his lips to hers once again. He wondered if she had any idea that her middle name supported the fact that they were always meant to be together, that she was always suppose to be a part of him, his consort, the bearer of his seed, Hera his wife, and his other part, his rain, his Serein, his happiness. Ending the kiss he looked lovingly upon her, his voice awe filled, “What did I ever do to deserve you wife?”

“You always believed. Now close your eyes husband and kiss me for courage.”

Bending his head, he matched his lips to hers for a union that was sensual, long and deep, going on until light-headedness overcame him, forcing him to begin pulling away from her. Immediately he felt a cool, shy, delicate touch on his back that slid up to his shoulders and at the same time hot, petal soft hands massaged his calves. Dewy and delicate lips played along the length of his spine while another firm, torrid mouth kissed its way up the back of his thighs, crisscrossing back and forth until he felt a warm wet tongue licking the swell of his buttocks. Thin shapely legs straddled his back pressing him further down onto his sweet Carolina. Tiny hands played with his hair, as lips kissed the back of his neck, along the underside of his jaw. From the corner of his eye he spied red hair without the vibrancy and curl of Carolina's and as he was ready to question the spell his honey had him under, he felt warm hands separating his buttocks, a hot determined tongue licking at his puckered opening, before it pushed inside him, quickly assuming the motion of a jackhammer.

“Yes,” was his loud shout as he reared back still clutching the silver dagger, feeling the tongue getting harder and longer, thrusting forcefully as searing hands played over the area where his penis entered Carolina. Another cooler touch smoothed over his shoulders and down his chest, his head resting against new-fledged breasts, pubescent in size and shape. Groaning, he lost his grip on the dagger and began moving against Carolina, rolling and thrusting, his eyes still shut tightly as he murmured, “This can't be real. But, it feels too good to resist. Let me open my eyes.”

Resuming her restrained squirming beneath him, she panted, “Place the other dagger on the bed beside us, and then open your eyes.”

Reaching between their bodies, he retrieved the dagger, letting it fall from his fingertips alongside their thighs. Inhaling deeply to keep from roaring out his satisfaction at being simultaneously penetrated, caressed and sheathed, Dylan slowly lifted his lashes and gazed upon Carolina's passion lit face. “What'll happen if I look at 'em?”

“They are yours to enjoy as you will. I ask only that you not shift around much so I remain focused. Now reposition yourself so that you're still inside me but sitting more upright while I aim to give you what you need.”

Dylan felt the hands of his two additional lovers helping him achieve the position Carolina described. During the process of sinking his rigid flesh back into her tight sheath he came face-to-face with the plainest little feminine creature he'd ever laid eyes on, her facial characteristics reminding him of a mouse minus the brown fur and whiskers. He realized he was actually seeing the meadow fay part of Carolina that she'd described to him before, a part of her that now sat beside him stroking his upper arm as he rocked into her. He leaned slightly sideways, sniffing wildflowers, trying to capture Meadow's lips, growing more excited at her timidity on the occasions when their mouths did meet, his mating with Carolina becoming more ferocious each time the little meadow mouse eluded him, until his lower body was savagely ramming and pounding into her, extracting from her low, labored cries.

The first rolling boom of thunder coincided with his remaining mystery lover's tongue being removed from his anus, her torso being pressed against his spine then seductively slid across his back as he went on pleasuring Carolina while trying to seduce Meadow. Everywhere the hot, sinfully seductive body touched his skin he burned and he knew the being behind him was Fire, another part of Carolina that was as torrid and tempestuous as Meadow was shy and serene. Fire seemed to have a lust for penetrating him. Before she’d focused on reaming him with her tongue, now she was intent on buggering him with her nimble fingers, while her unbelievably long and contorting tongue darted in and out of his ear. She caused hot and icy shivers to take hold of his body that didn't lessen his need to ram his rigid rod repeatedly into Carolina as fast, hard and as deep as humanly possible.

Carolina felt the icy cold power in her body mingle with her blazing heat and knew it was time. Without opening her eyes she moaned, “Turn out the lights.” She felt him leaning over and assumed it was to do as she requested. Through her closed lids, she could see the jagged bolts of inch thick atmospheric electricity cutting across the room, felt warm air resume its dance around them and she ceased her struggles against the ties that held her, letting the elements take her where they would.

Dylan kept his mouth glued to meadow's as he reached for the lamp. Her lips were shy, her taste, ever changing, beyond intoxicating, every favorite thing he'd consumed in his life. Nevertheless, after the light was extinguished and the darkness took precedence in the room, he forgot all about Meadow's maidenly and succulent allure.

There was a booming clap of thunder, bright flashes momentarily illuminating the walls as the wickedly ruttish fay spirit positioned the blunt end of the dagger between his cheeks, teasing his opening, the silver and stone handle heated by her touch. Still fully engorged inside Carolina, he sat unmoving, turning his face upward. Magically he saw beyond the ceiling, beholding the majestic night sky filled with ominous storm clouds backlit by countless forks of brilliant blue-white lightning. Spellbound, his spirit recalled its time and place of origin, his true home and even then, his sweet Carolina had been there, not in body, but her familiar essence and energy. He'd always needed her to salve his soul. Once again he set his hips in motion against hers, loving her as was his right and honor. Warm droplets rained down, drenching their skin and the bed they coupled upon, the vision and memory of their first home fading away.

Pushing forward, his penile lance slid further into her tight encasement and on withdrawing, he felt the threat of rear entry by the dagger's sleek and knobby handle. He wanted it, needed the full penetration and as if sensing his unspoken desire, his brazen fay lover eased the handle in, making him groan loudly, jaggedly boring into him and Meadow's bashful tongue wriggled into his mouth to quiet him, allowing her sibling to continue her skewering. When the handle had been buried up to the blade and just as Fire started rhythmically shoving her weapon in and out of his backside, Meadow thrust her sugary tongue further into his mouth, readying him for what was to come, keeping him quiet, waiting...

Everything went brilliant, blinding white. Piercing pains, jagged and hot, jolted simultaneously through the center of his chest and navel. He silently absorbed the energy and pain, allowed them to nurture and enhance him. However, a sense of foreboding influenced his enjoyment of the phenomenon he'd been missing, knowing the sensations would quickly end.

They didn't... Beneath him, Carolina continued to concentrate. Storm brewing was no easy achievement and for her treacle bear, she couldn't just conjurer up any old array of sprinkles. For her consort, the father of her children, and emancipator of her spirit she had to generate a divinely mythical downpour. So she stilled the wind, amassed the clouds and harnessed the lightning, made it enter him and stay, filling and pleasing, giving him what he desperately needed, made the bolts do her bidding so that she was both receiver and giver, loved and lover. She had to go beyond merely satisfying him. It was her intention to fully awaken his true nature, have it shake hands with its human host and in doing so she'd forever scorch her presence on his soul.

She was in and all around him. At every point of penetration, he felt her and the burn, soul-stirring energy he'd needed to affirm his life. His nerves vibrated like finely tuned guitar strings in response to her energetic influence and he thought for a woman who professed to know little about music she knew how to play him well, drawing from his soul the most stirring performances of his lifetime. Even with Meadow's tongue still teasing his, he was able to emit music from his heart and spirit, first a fantasia, then a nocturne and finally a rhapsody, the ending notes, of which, he held so long and high that every item of glass within the room shattered. A tinkling melody of a thousand delicate bells was lent to his concert as the enchanted shards fell to the stone floor like lovely, sparkling rain and all the while, he thrust into her, never wanting to stop.

Roaring thunder shook the room, wind and rain whipping about, strobes of light filling his eyes, thoughts of the woman he loved occupying his mind, replacing the need only she'd been able to satisfy. He wanted to give her every thing he possessed, feeling in his heart that his granting wouldn’t be enough to equal all that she’d given him. Instead, he'd give her what her heart cried out for.

Still loving her, kissing Meadow and receiving Fire he felt the lightning slowly recede from his body, then his fay lovers disappeared and he let loose his voice, thundering out her name, turning his cries of 'Heraserein' and his profession of pure adoration into a roundelay as he set about loving her with combined hot blood and brute force. His loins slapped, smacked and slammed against her. Impatient lips blazed a trail down the side of her neck to the base of her throat. He licked his way across the milky mountains of her breasts, the flavor of hazelnut cream sparking his long denied thirst. When he reached her nipple, he let his song fade away and took the perfect bud into his mouth for the first taste of her nurturing essence. The gratifying flavor combined with her tight vagina clamping securely around his pounding penis, pushed him off the thunderhead of lust and sent him hurtling to earth, wind and rain whirling around them as he shuddered his hot release into her welcoming valley. Throwing back his head he passionately declared, “I'll not live another day without your total happiness.”

Carolina experienced their simultaneous orgasms as tiny lightning balls, orbs of electricity pinging around inside her and at every ricochet of jolting pleasure she squirmed beneath him chanting amorously, “Dylan, oh yes. Oh yes, Dylan. I love you.”

The wind and rain abruptly stopped. Sounds of labored breathing filled the room. The storm vanished from overhead leaving behind renewal and resolve in its wake.

Long minutes passed and he was still pulsing inside her as she continued quivering beneath him. He leaned over to touch the lamp so dim light made it easier for him to see. Picking up one of the daggers, he placed it on the nightstand. He wasn't sure where Fire had put the other one but it was no longer buried between his buttocks, nor was it anywhere to be seen. Shuddering at the memory of the hard penetration the hot fay had subjected him to; it took him a couple of tries before he could successfully release Carolina's wrists from their bonds. Remaining inside her, he leaned back and unbound her ankles then he covered her with his torso, his mouth capturing hers for a long, otherworldly kiss before he drew away. “Carolina Heraserein, you are perfection. What can I give or do for you in return?”

“Love me and never leave me,” she answered drowsily. Tucking blond locks behind his ears, she placed her palms on his cheeks, holding him in place so she could study his eyes. They still retained faint shadows. Her voice was sweetly beseeching, “Treacle bear, tell me what more you desire tonight?”

Shaking his head, he looked her over, stroking her lovely hair, “How do you feel?”

Her cheeks reddened. “I'm extremely satisfied.”

“About me and the things we did?”

“I'm loving and accepting of you. It's my responsibility to provide all you need. I want Meadow and Fire to make you happy. Were you pleased by them?”

“Very much. Are they a part of you now?”

“In a way. Did you find them attractive?”

“I never saw Fire but little Meadow was captivating in an unspoiled way. Gosh, the taste of her and the innocence... Just thinking about it makes me want to find her and kiss her all night. There was a naughty-and-nice feel to being with her that reminded me of making out behind church or feeling up the pastor's daughter.”

Carolina smiled broadly at him, thinking part of the reason he liked spanking her was probably because he had a long history of making good girls go bad and witnessing their punishment. He'd undoubtedly been the cause of many young, devout girls being subjected to repeated swats to their ruffled panties because he'd lured them away from the righteous path to the delights of hanky-panky. “Should I call her forth to sleep with us? There's plenty of room.”

“Not tonight.” His mouth found the pulse at her throat, his nose filling with the smell of her milk. He wanted to love her again, but out of consideration for her and his babes he wouldn't, she needed to rest. Lifting his head, he kissed the tip of her nose.

She placed her hand at the center of his chest, walking her fingers down to his navel before making the journey back to the area near his heart, asking in amazement, “Why doesn't the lightning kill or scar you? I thought for sure it would, that's why I was hesitant at first, but if it had I would have healed you.”

“It's a part of me like Meadow and Fire are parts of you. A part that's been missing since it gave me my life and the energy jolts I've never shared with anyone for fear of exposure.” He kissed her forehead, nose, chin, right cheek then left before saying, “I know you split into three because of the things Liz told you, because you were afraid. Can you tell me how it's possible?”

“Meadow and Fire have always been near, you've felt them, made love to them within me, but now that we are bound and because I allow it you can see them.” With gentle fingertips she stroked his brow, “As you've finally allowed me to see the real you. Thanks for trusting me. I'll never betray you.”

Tenderly he caught her wrist and brought her open palm to his lips. “I think you should know that Fire has the other dagger.”

Carolina tried not to appear concerned. “What was she doing with it?”

“She was pleasuring me. I hope that doesn't shock you but I want honesty between us. I don't care that she kept it as long as her action doesn't displease you.”

Carolina remembered how she'd pleasured him with the dagger in the gunroom and wished she'd been able to see Fire's skill at balancing and juggling the blades. Feeling that Fire hadn't wanted to relinquish such a lovely memento of her time with Dylan, Carolina told him confidently, “When you see her again she’ll give it back.”

Glancing around the immaculate room with not an item out of place or even a tiny crack in the glass doors he asked, “Why isn't this room still a mess?”

“I righted everything before you turned on the light. Should I undo the repairs? I just thought it would be easier to craft everything instead of trying to explain how it all got broken and wet. Also, I blocked our sounds from traveling beyond this room. I know you wish to be respectfully reserved within the proximity of the clan's children.”

He gave her an Eskimo kiss, “You're pretty quick at crafting.”

With strong hands she pulled his hips further into hers, promising him all sorts of treats with her beguiling eyes. “I can fly faster than Patrick's car too. Would you like to come for a short trip with me now, before I push down my fay powers? After tonight I want to go back to being an ordinary woman, leading an uncomplicated human life.”

He pouted like a toddler, questioning pitifully, “No more lightning and rainstorms?”

Gently she smoothed the furrows from his brow, “Only sometimes treacle bear. Now don't be sad, we must protect what we have. It will draw too much attention if freak storms keep occurring here in Ventura. We have to align some of your pleasures with nature. I'm not denying you, accept that you wish me to obey you, but I am foremost your protector. I will not allow you to be harmed even by your own desires.”

He was still sad about the lightning, twice in a lifetime didn't seem fair. “Can we have more babes? I'd like to help you carry them to full-term.”

She smiled thinking of tiny falcons. “Of course, but just not so many at once.”

His expression didn't change. “We'll have triplets. And how about the fay girls?”

He was now scowling intensely at her and she hurriedly offered, “They're yours whenever you want. Tell me true, shall I call them now. I'll not be jealous or angry.”

Some of the tightness left his face. “Has Patrick ever met them?”

“He knows me, so of course he has. But he's not publicly acquainted with them.”

A satisfied smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “I'd like to see Fire since I didn't before. But don't have Meadow come back tonight, if she does I'll never get to sleep for trying to steal kisses and coax her thighs apart.”

She positioned herself a bit further away from him, resting comfortably back against her pillow. “Alright, sit back and in your mind call to Fire.”

He did as she instructed and before his eyes materialized not a winged fairy of myth, storybooks and movies, but a nude Nubian goddess that was beyond exquisite. Every inch of her majestic body shouted sexual warrior. Her long textured hair was thick as molasses and the velvety blue-black of a moonless night, as were her amygdaloidal eyes. Heavily creamed, melted milk chocolate was the color of her skin and her mouth hinted at the sweet-tart promise of Brandywine raspberries, the sensually pouty lips having the deep complex color of wine-red purple. She sat naked across his lap, balancing the pointed end of the missing dagger on the tip of her index finger all the while staring at him heatedly. Dylan watched as Fire gave a sidelong look at Carolina before she let the dagger fall to the bed. Wantonly she lay siege to his mouth in a kiss that scorched him from his lips to his toenails, pushed every arousal button he had all at the same time, rendering him mindless and rock hard. He returned Fire's kiss, hurriedly thrusting his burning shaft into her sizzling slit, steam rising up around them and always mindful before not to take the Lord's name in vain Dylan couldn't stop himself from tearing his mouth from hers and crying out, “Sweet Jesus, Heavenly Father deliver me.” The heat was almost too much to bear, making him want to do and say all sorts of erotic things to his fire-fay lover. He thrust in and out of her. His hands were under her bottom as she bounced on his hot rod. Looking into her black eyes, he knew they were kindred spirits, that she needed the frenzy and the pain as much as he did.

Without withdrawing from her sweltering hot spring, he made her turn on his knob until her back was facing him. Pushing her forward, he forced her to her hands and knees as he knelt behind her, his hands restlessly traveling over the firm terrain of her athletic body as he continued his wild movements within her, chanting, “You're red-hot, burning up.” Flexing the muscles of his buttocks, he increased the power of each push-and-pull, slapping his hands loudly upon her flanks as she shoved back against him, grinding her perfectly proportionate rear against his hips. More intensely, he plowed her; with powerful agitation, he drew back and readied himself to surge forward again but she unexpectedly pulled away from him. Grabbing her, he forced Fire down to the mattress, flat on her stomach, ramming into her slit, breathing into her ear, “You move when I say you can. Now lift your hips. I need to feel your round plump cheeks pressed against me.” He felt her do his bidding and thrust forcefully forward when skin met skin, his hands twisting in her hair, holding her in place as he rode her vigorously. She panted and pushed back into him, making pained sobs that drove him on. Unable to resist the curve of her neck, the need to mark her as his own, he leaned forward to place his open mouth at the right side of her throat, licked and sucked her sweet tasting sweat before sinking his teeth into her flesh at which point she shuddered beneath him, crying out for more. Not wanting to disappoint, he released a small current of electricity from within his body that exited his mouth that moved against her neck. She moaned, her hand reaching up to press his face tighter against her throat as she came again whispering she'd give anything to be always with him.

Longing for the feel and sight of her berry colored lips, he released her, and as if reading his mind she knelt before his seated position on the side of the bed staring longingly at his tool that stood tall and at attention. With a determined hand, he pushed her head down, rigorously pumping his rod between her beautiful lips, in and out of her hot mouth, down her clenching throat. Perspiration covered his brow as he thundered out, “That's right swallow it.” Buried to the base and with, his hands holding her head locked against his body he began humping and grinding against her face, trying to get deeper, the sounds of her choking and gagging a carnal symphony to his senses, her hard nails digging into the muscles of his thighs like heated spikes, piercing him pleasurably. He felt her teeth slowly closing around the base of his penis, clamping down so he could no loner move without fear of shredding his skin. Fire held him prisoner, gently nipping and tugging then applying more pressure until rivulets of sudor ran down his face. Their eyes met and he wanted to know all her secrets. Giving a slight movement of his head, his fingers playing along her scalp, with total abandon he gave himself over as her teeth clamped down. Dylan shouted, and then knew euphoria as her heat entered him and he cried out, “Who needs lightning when I have all this?”

It was a long time before Fire released him, pushing him back across the bed until he was once again sitting beside Carolina. With a dancer's fluidity she straddled his hips, was upon his still erect penis in one motion, bouncing and swaying. She leaned in and captured his lips in a kiss that scorched, their eyes locking, hers pleading, letting him know without words what she needed.

He reached for the dagger she'd secreted away. Inserting the handle between her smooth, peach shaped buttocks, he shoved the jeweled silver into her tight anus, sliding it in sync with his battering rod inside her volcanic vagina. He watched as she arched and undulated, her hot fingers roughly clutching his sack, yanking and tugging on his skin until he drawled, “Naw darlin', I don't wanna come yet.” He continued to feel her burning touch as she roughly pleasured him and with his free hand he slapped her sporty yet full tits, slid his hand up and down her torso, before traveling south to massage her clit and at his focused attention she uttered foreign phrases and chanted his name. He felt her increase the speed and ferocity of her pounding, up-and-down movements, on his flaming spear, sweat pouring down his face and chest, steam billowing around them and the room, their combined sexual scent of fire and rain so heady he felt as if he'd chugged several fifths of white lightning, their sexual burn increasing. Unexpectedly she slapped him hard across the face and his orgasm threatened, penis pulsating faster than his heart was beating. He caught her wrists to stop her from hitting him again, from pushing him over the edge and as he continued to rocket into her, she struggled while still riding him skillfully. By her pinned wrists, he pulled her torso to his lips. Capturing her nipple, he drew on it, bit down hard, then sucked forcefully, the taste of honeyed chipotles assaulting his senses, undermining his control. Holding her close he thrust once more so violently that the sky outside the large windows lit up with a play of lightning and deafening thunder clapped, applauding their performance. With a roar, he came and came, filling her with an unbelievable amount of his seed and energy, just as she let out a soulful wail, convulsing uncontrollably. Their bodies were drenched and glistening, ushering in a thundershower of his making.

When their orgasms had stilled, breathing having returned to normal, and the only sound in the room was the pitter-patter of heavy, crystalline raindrops against the window, Fire gave him a deep satisfied kiss, petting and stroking his cheek, whispering repeatedly that she cherished him, would love no one above her true lord. Tall, soulful and lovely Fire stood to tuck Carolina beneath the covers, brushing her host's pale forehead with lips of Brandywine before she vanished. Dylan could see the rosy imprint of Fire's lips on Carolina's skin, a sparkling pink as lovely and provocative as the color staining her cheeks, undoubtedly caused by all she'd just witnessed.

With the flat of his palm, he wiped sweat from his face and chest. He then tossed the dagger carelessly to the floor before turning to her with outstretched arms. “Honey?”

She went to him willingly, felt her blush deepening. “Don't apologize. Fire and Meadow are yours to enjoy; I can't be angry that you do. However, be careful, they are extremely passionate. I don't want you growing weak from loving them and me too. Now drink from me so you can be energetic for our wedding.”

“Wait a second.” He reached into the nightstand's drawer and brought forth her engagement ring, diamond necklace and gold medallion. After he'd returned all of her jewels to their rightful homes, he nestled his head against her soft bosom.

Her hand shook as she stroked his golden hair. “Swear on the lives of our children that ye will never forsake me, that tomorrow, we'll wed in the lavender field.” He planted a kiss between her breasts, nuzzling into her warmth. “I promise. Now I'd like a drink of your sweet milk. I won't be greedy and I won't be long but I'll ease my thirst enough so I'm able to accompany you at feeding time.”

When his warm mouth latched onto her nipple, sucking and drawing her essence-enhanced milk from her breast, she arched her back, murmuring his name. Grasping his wrist, she placed his strong hand upon her mound, spreading her thighs so he could stroke her in time with his pulls upon her tit. As his calloused fingers pushed into her she extended a lusty invitation, “Take your time treacle bear, oh yes, take your time.

Chapter 27

“Gingernut everybody's waiting,” Patrick beseeched, coaxingly from behind her.

Heedless of smashing her wedding bouquet she gripped the deck railing looking towards the silvery-green lavender field. She couldn't stop searching the distance for her groom and in a terrified voice that shook, she sought assurance, “Swear he's there. I've looked and looked but can't see him.”

“He is, as are all your children. The entirety of the families, past and present, await. Come down with me now. He's growing impatient.”

“As certainly as the lightning brought him forth it can take him away. I know he's finally revealed himself to you. What if he must go back to a former home and time, is recalled before I can get to him?”

“It's but a few yards to the flower fields and there isn't a rain cloud in the sky. This is the only home that holds him now. The other places are but memories, as Fairyland is in your mind. Neither of you have the ability to return on your own, but I can and have, to ensure nothing will ever divide this new bond. Take my hand and calm yourself.”

Clutching her simple floral arrangement, she hurried over to him with her hands outstretched, Irish lace and ribbons fluttering, pink and cream rose petals billowing down to land around her ivory-colored flats. The moment her skin contacted his she began to tremble. Looking directly into his eyes she allowed him to see all that she was at heart, a terrified lass desperately wanting to actualize reciprocity of romance just once. Bottled up tears caused her voice to break huskily, “Please Patrick, allow me to see him. I know if I do not I'll never make it from this room.”

Caressing the backs of her hands, he silently marveled at her beauty, whispering assuredly, “Close your eyes Gingernut and you will.” He watched as she quickly followed his instruction and he simply thought them to where they needed to be.

****

If Carolina Conway hadn't been a nervous wreck, she'd have smelled lavender, poppies, and various abundant meadow flowers, heard beautiful bird song, and sensed hundreds of fairy wings fluttering in the breeze. However, in an effort to hold herself together, she missed those things and by keeping her eyes tightly shut, didn’t see the wondrous sight of her human family: her sister-in-law and her brother standing beside their father and mother, who cradled in her arms the animated ginger-haired baby boy who’d never known human life. So set was the bride-to-be on not, not seeing her intended, that she couldn't pry her eyes open but held on to Patrick, begging his forgiveness for the previous night, pleading with him not to punish her for her abandonment and betrayal, for loving another as much as he.

She stood poised at the height of desperation too afraid to look in case she be overcome by letdown and fall headlong into never-ending darkness with no hope of rescue. Had Carolina been marginally secure in the belief that her groom was present she would have opened her eyes to behold his former families of many foregone historical ages, would have seen his father of this lifetime, Joseph Savage, enlivened with his arms about the great loves of his life, Susan and August. Fear induced witlessness interfered with her taking in the entirety of the blended Savage clan with all her smiling children and babes positioned honorably before them, looking relaxed and expectant in their everyday clothes, waiting for a once in a lifetime, truly, a one-of-a kind woman, to take her place in the family as a majestic wife and mother. So determined was she to not be disappointed, that she missed the rare sight of a large group of darkly habilimented guests, all of serious expressions, dark-hair, fiery eyes and dimpled cheeks. It wasn't until Patrick took her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking the slant of her cheekbones, and he leaned in to whisper against her ear, 'I no longer deny that you hold my heart. With that truth voiced, I give thee over to your new life', that she with a tiny cry was able to turn from him and open her eyes.

Though still not seeing clearly she couldn't mistake the blurry figure of her treacle bear standing a few yards away, dressed in denim shirt and jeans. At home were his favorite brown boots upon his feet and the wide leather belt with the shining silver buckle at his waist. Turning again to Patrick she pressed a shaky kiss somewhere in the region of his mouth and cheek before kicking off her flats to run barefooted, with the inherent grace of a gazelle, toward her future.

Reaching the lightning and hand carved black rock and marble altar she felt herself lifted high in the air and twirled around before her feet once again touched the rain dampened ground. Royal brilliance blinded her more, as if she were staring straight into the sun, eyes watering, focus blurring, seeing indistinct multiples of everything. Carolina began to grow faint, ears filling with accordion-like pressure. She barely heard a word or sound, strained the bit of vision she had to read the lips of the pastor, priest, or perhaps deity presiding over the ceremony and many minutes passed before she mistily saw she was being asked, 'Do you Carolina Heraserein Conway take Dylan so-and-so-and-so...” She almost bit off her tongue in her haste to say, “I do.”

If she hadn't been deprived of nearly the full power of her senses, so anxious to be done with the deed, to have a husband she could finally call her own, she would have realized a few important things. First, there were actually three figures conducting the ceremony and they all made the same mistake in her groom’s name. Second she would have acknowledged that the wedding band being slipped on her finger was dramatically different than what she expected, wider, heavier and thicker, somehow seeming to latch on to her body like a living thing as the pink diamonds around her throat did. Lastly, Carolina would have seen beyond the brilliant radiance surrounding her groom, been able to peer through eyes of lapis blue. She would have focused panoramically to see the truth that had been positioned all around her, sharpened that view microscopically to peer down deep into the electric and fiery souls of men who'd that morning moved heaven and earth, spanned countless centuries and raised hell along the way, to guarantee her happiness. Her terror at being abandoned once again, blinded her to the presence of an all too familiar man standing at Dylan's side during the marital proceedings, numbed her to his touch when he too took her hand, kept her from feeling one set of lips, then another, when the calls were given for the bride to be kissed. Alas, hours before and during the ceremony, then throughout the reception, Carolina wasn't herself, fay or human, or any combination of the two, nor was she under any spell. She was simply in transition from being officially unattached to eternally united, suffering from shock, a common malady, curable by a prescription of wedding night rapture.

****

Dylan stood within the stall's entrance allowing his eyes to etch her beauty upon his brain. Looking a bit shell-shocked, she sat upon a bed of fresh hay thickly mounded upon the floor. Though they'd concluded the ceremony and reception hours earlier, to slide easily into an extraordinary, extended family routine, she'd kept her hair tightly fashioned in the ceremonial style. The coiffure was elegantly simple, one braid on either side of her head, the ends of which were wound together and allowed to hang down to her waist with rose-lavender and white Gypsophila woven here-and-there amongst the fiery strands. As was dictated, she still wore her tasteful, cream based, rose floral wedding dress with its billowing knee-length skirt that brushed against the smooth skin of her pale legs, drawing attention down to her highly arched feet that had been bare since she'd kicked off her shoes right before the ceremony, yet remained spotless, as if she’d just emerged from a long bath. As always her skin was unblemished by make-up, cheeks naturally blush pink, lips a few shades deeper, telling of nibbling and biting in an effort to calm her nerves. However, her eyes, those magnificent sparkling windows, were the cause of him being stone hard with wanting, they told of her change, the renewal, and absolute purity of mind, body and spirit. Slowly he moved forward, not wanting to frighten her and saw her pupils growing bigger, darker, until the blackness overtook the unique Connemara green. As he reached out and clasped her hand, helping her to her feet, he smokily assured, “This will be perfect; everything you’ve hoped and prayed for.”

Timidly she attempted to extract her fingers from his hold pleading, “I'd like to wait, need Clover or one of the other matrons to explain again what's to happen, how it works, and then I won't be worried I'll be a disappointment.”

Holding her steady he anxiously gritted out, “The matrons and other women are all busy with universal business dealings, loving their husbands, or watching over the babes and children. You spent a good amount of time with them earlier; nothing has changed in the hours since. What are your instincts telling you?”

She met his eyes and confessed, “They've deserted me.”

Unable to resist, he pulled her a bit closer, inhaling the fresh spicy-sweet scent wafting from her pores and drawled, “How 'bout the fay girls, Fire and Meadow, the ones that are part of you. Can't they give you counsel?”

She throbbed below the waist, high between her thighs, at the thought that they’d previously known each other carnally and she informed him in a quavering voice, “The matrons told me Fire and Meadow are only permitted to come forth after my maiden state is claimed. Then Fire and Meadow may act as home, nurse and bed helpers to me so that I may be an excellent wife, companion, lover and mother, while allowing me to further my career, contribute wealth to our family and this vast clan so that it knows boundless prosperity.”

With one calloused finger, he tapped the tip of her impish nose, before moving his calloused thumb along the curving fullness of her lower lip. “Well honey, what do you need for this to seem easier?”

She drew away from his light touch, uncertain about the flames of need his fingers fanned whenever his skin made the slightest contact with hers. Taking a step backwards, she stated weakly, “I want to wait.”

If it were solely his decision he'd keep her as she now stood before him until she grew comfortable within the marriage but their joining was a collaboration of a far-reaching nature, which made them duty bound. “Naw darlin', this marriage must be consummated during the midnight hour as set down by the elders or the union is void and another petition can't be made for several years. Do you want to wait that long?”

A bit of cayenne was dashed in her tone, “No. No I don't. But if I can't have my say why did you ask?”

He smiled; there was his sweet, honeyed chipotle pepper. “Precious this is your say. You wanted this union, didn't object during the ceremony though you were given three separate occasions to do so. It's clear you're changed in some ways but you still retain that knowledge, you weren't forced into this marriage.”

Blushing, she embarrassedly admitted, “I don’t remember the ceremony, except for saying ‘I do’ three different times.”

Dylan nodded his understanding of her plight but couldn't halt what needed to happen. Instead, he worked to lay her fears to rest in his relaxed southern way, “Woman, I darn near plucked the planets from the sky getting ya what's been forever in your heart.” He placed his hands on her shoulders reassuringly, given them a little squeeze. “Gal, ya wanted a bond, a legal marriage for life.”

She blinked and nodded, then straightened her spine, a tender seedling beneath the mild warmth of spring sunshine. “Yes I did.”

He kissed her tenderly, fleetingly, because he could no longer resist the temptation of her innocence accepting that at this point he had no right to linger longer. For a few moments, he hummed to her, willing her to calm and accept. Tenderheartedly he advised, “Then don't fear what's done. You're loved and cherished beyond any girlish dream, fantasy or fairytale. It's time to reenter the realm of womanhood and take your rightful place within this commingled clan. Shillyshallying about mechanics of the union won't do any good. Trust that you'll be well taken care of. You loved coupling before, were mind-blowing at everything you did. This uniting of bodies will be better, fulfilling your every desire. Now turn around honey, your dress needs to be undone.”

Carolina knew from his tone that the discussion was over, so on rubbery limbs she did as she was commanded and when she completed her pivot, she stood looking slightly up into smiling brown eyes with glowing embers already alight in their depths. “Hi, sweet Gingernut,” Patrick greeted her adoringly.

Her eyes grew wide, lips silently forming his name. She shook her head trying to chase away the illusion and when he remained, reaching out to caress her cheek she recalled the day in its entirety, especially the trio of deities performing the ceremony making what she thought had been the same error, 'Dylan Patrick Donovan Savage'. There had been two grooms in attendance, each saying their vows once to her but she'd had to accept thrice, once to each man and then to the union itself, having the ultimate power to put an end to the proceedings at anytime. She looked down at the wedding band upon her finger, a warm, wide braid of lightning struck silver and galactic gold that she wouldn't have the ability to remove since the metals somehow fused with her spirit and only would her husbands, in unison, ever be able to take the symbol of sempiternal unity from her hand. He and Dylan had each kissed her when she'd been pronounced their wife and from that point on she'd been paraded in front of elders and parents of both her husbands, had even spent time with her old fay family. However, a great amount of her time had been spent with the matrons, who'd instructed her on the expectations of her wedding night. Remembered lessons that now, as before, made her swallow nervously and she exclaimed, “'Tis not right of me to have-” The feel of Dylan pulling the dress zipper methodically down halted her words. His lips, touching the side of her neck, had her leaning back against the hardness of his body, the steel of his erection.

Patrick eliminated the small distance between them and with the tiniest of touches of his fingers at the short sleeves of her dress, caused the garment to disappear. Bare-breasted and wearing plain white cotton panties with a tiny pink ribbon rosebud at the waist she was perfection. “We love you, are in love with you,” he avowed as strong sure fingers played along the elastic waist of her sole covering and it too, soon went the way of the dress.

They each took one of her hands and walked with her, naked and trembling, over to the bed of hay. Patrick kissed her lips all the while items of his black clothing vanished from his form until he was as nude as she. Dylan concentrated on letting her hair loose, while nibbling at her ears, traveling along the sides and back of her neck. His fingers made quick work of the divestment of his denim, leather, silver and cotton, so that he could press his heat up against her back as Patrick pulled her down atop him, her legs instinctively opening across his hips to allow his erect manhood to await entrance into her stately garden. In harmony with the other members of their assemblage, Dylan readied himself to ease into her by way of her back passage, his throbbing tip not making contact, but hovering a filament away. They held fast, awaiting her signal to proceed with her rise to immortality.

Carolina arched her right arm back to stroke her palm across the spun gold of Dylan's hair, to finger the marbled hardness of his jaw. Her body spread across the hot, hypersensitive surface of Patrick's like oil of essence and with conviction, as the matrons had schooled her, she avowed, “We are bound forever as one, of man's law and sanctified far beyond, in the endless and everlasting houses of the universe.” She felt them simultaneously push to conquer her maiden state, claim her as their wife, their synchronized thrusts immediately awarding her an intense, eyes-rolled-back orgasm that escalated with every second, touch and movement. Pressed between pillars of strength and power, light and darkness, she cried out to them, tightening her one-armed embrace on her treacle bear and pressing her palm against the chest of her nighted prince. She felt the quickening in them before they disappeared to flow within her, fusing with her spirit for mere seconds, then reappearing to climax in concert, filling her with the evidence of their savage love.

The End

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Table of Contents

Savage Love