Kristie Cook - Devotion

I stared at him for a minute as he rattled off a few more of Blossom's "faults" and then shook my head. No wonder he was still single–Owen was incredibly picky. And half the things he listed were turn-ons for most guys. I vowed to never set him up with anyone because no one could make him happy. He was on his own.

Dorian came in and went straight to his room. He didn't mind sand on his feet but hated it in his trunks and would change before he returned for his piece of cake.

I lowered my voice, in case he didn't close his bedroom door. "Have you decided where we're going this weekend?"

"Probably Okeechobee," Tristan said. "They're having a bike rally, so lots of people to talk–"

"A Were rally?"

"The best kind, from what I've heard," Owen said.

"You realize it's going to be a full moon, right?"

"We're not staying at night," Tristan said. He smiled, his eyes glinting. "Are you afraid, ma lykita?"

"Um … maybe. Should I be?"

Owen guffawed. "For one last time, will you have some faith, Alexis? You have Tristan, the ultimate warrior, and me, the dreaded warlock. And then there's you and your electric personality. They should be the ones afraid."

I laughed. "The dreaded warlock, huh?"

He gave me a sinister look. "Don't mock me. You have no clue about my history."

If he were anyone but Owen, I might have actually been a little frightened.

"They're Amadis, anyway. They won't attack us," Tristan said, dismissing my concern. "Did you–" he twitched his fingers around his temple "–with Blossom?"

"Yes."

He eyed me when I didn't expand my answer. "And?"

I gave him a coy smile. "I'll tell you when you tell me what I want to know."

"You're not being very helpful," he grumbled.

"Ditto," I replied as Dorian entered the room, preventing any further discussion.

As the weekend approached, I dreamt every night about faeries, Vanessa and my pendant, but the night before Mom was to arrive, the dream changed. Vanessa taunted me with her musical laugh, her white-blond hair whipping in the wind as she stood on the edge of a cliff, dangling my necklace over the emptiness beyond. Then suddenly, in her other hand, she held a little girl, about Dorian's age, by her reddish-brown hair. The girl cried and kicked her legs over the nothingness. Vanessa spread her arms wide. She laughed again. And then she let go of them both. I had to choose. I ran for the edge, stopping myself at the lip and watching them both fall in slow motion as I actually considered my choices. My mind screamed for the girl but my heart pulled me toward the pendant. When I finally dove over the edge, I aimed for the necklace. As soon as I grasped it, the girl evaporated into a wisp of smoke.

"NO!" I gasped, waking myself up. I sat up in the bed, pulling gulps of air. How could I …?

Tristan pulled me into his arms.

"Just a dream, my love," he murmured.

"Of course. But I can't believe …" I couldn't finish. I lay down on my side, my back to him, ashamed of myself.

"You want to talk about it?" He nuzzled his face into my hair and kissed the side of my neck.

"No," I said with a sigh. The pendant was a touchy subject–not something for the middle of the night. "I just feel pulled in so many directions. I guess the stress is creeping into my dreams."

"Hmm … let me de-stress you." His mouth moved along my jaw, his lips finding mine.

As he took me far away from my stress, he murmured, "Happy Anniversary, my love."

I glanced at the clock–it was long after midnight, now July 30th–and grinned. Our eighth anniversary, but the first one together. Tomorrow will be perfect. It has to be. We deserve it. But since Mom would be in the house tomorrow night, this was our chance to celebrate alone. So we did. Oh, man, did we ever. Tristan brought me to the highest of heights several times, an orgasm for every anniversary we missed.

I hadn't slept so soundly in years, until …

"Mom! I thought we told you no jumping on the bed," Dorian reprimanded the next morning when he came into our room and found us on the floor again. "Uncle Owen's going to be so mad at you. He just fixed it!"

Tristan shook with laughter. "Mom's a bad girl. What do you think we should do?"

Dorian crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at me. "Maybe she needs a spanking."

"I think you're right," Tristan said. He raised his hand with a gleam in his eye, but Dorian grabbed it.

"No, Dad, her mom's supposed to do it. We'll tell Mimi when she gets here today."

Tristan laughed. "Yeah, you're right. Besides, we're not supposed to hit girls, right?"

"Right. Then you would have to get a spanking, too." Dorian considered Tristan for a long moment. "Who's your mom?"

The humor drained out of Tristan's face, and something flickered in his eyes. My stomach formed into a rock. Tristan didn't remember his actual parents. Like me, he never knew his father. He'd been taken from his mother while a tot, and all he knew was that she was evil.

"Um … so …" I stammered, trying to think of how to get out of this demand. "So, Dorian, why would you say moms give spankings? I've never spanked you."

He shrugged. "I know. Naughty Nick's mom spanks him. And his dad laughs when he's bad and that's all the time."

He chattered on about his favorite cartoon. Tristan thanked me with his eyes for distracting Dorian from the question. We both knew it wouldn't be the last time he'd ask, but at least now we could prepare ourselves for it.

Owen and Dorian were on Captiva later that morning, trying to make peace with the natives–we hoped their sweet faces and engaging personalities could win over the colony residents–when Mom and Charlotte arrived. After I gave them a tour of the house, we sat in the living room and watched Tristan connect a new home entertainment system–a "necessity" by his standards.

"So, are you pregnant yet?" Charlotte asked, direct as always.

I blinked with surprise. "Uh, no. Why?"

"I told you she wasn't," Mom said.

"I hoped you were wrong for once." Charlotte frowned.

"What's going on?" I asked.

Mom sighed. "I didn't want to get into it our first five minutes here, but there's a lot to discuss, honey. The Amadis are getting … anxious."

"Yeah, you said they're acting strange. So, is that why you're here? To spy on us? They wouldn't send royalty to investigate a witch, especially right now."

"Actually that was an excuse to come here and see you. They aren't aware you're here yet."

My eyebrows shot up. "Really? Surely someone in the colony–"

"Yes, someone has reported your arrival. But the entire Western Hemisphere reports to me now," Char said with a grin, "and I haven't bothered to tell the council yet. I said I needed your mother because we happened to be in Atlanta anyway, and with her truth-sensing and persuasion abilities, she'd make my investigation easy work."

I resisted the temptation to read their minds and studied their faces instead. Perhaps I really wanted to trust them, wanted them to be on our side, or perhaps they really were sincere, so I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt.

"Okay, so what's going on?" I asked again.

"The council has broken into factions," Mom said, not telling Tristan or me anything new. Until her next statement. "Even the most supportive ones are becoming agitated, up in arms about the next daughter. Rina thinks the sooner you get pregnant, the sooner everyone will settle down and unite again."

"But Rina knows there's already a daughter," I said. "Why doesn't she say so, if that will make everyone happy?"

Mom raised her eyebrows. "Alexis, there is no daughter. You need to let it go."

"There is! I heard it. You need to believe me."