As night set in, the fairies were replaced by fireflies in the garden, and strings of lights draped around the trees and the rotunda came on creating a dream-like setting for a gathering that had mellowed with wine and full stomach. The family moved to huddle around the fire pit on the seats, prodding sticks into the embers lazily, and talking of loved ones not present.
Raiden decided it was time to go and began to lead Lia around them to say farewell. “Lia has dance school in the morning,” he explained to his mother when they reached her.
“Of course. So, Lia,” Diedre kissed her cheeks warmly. “We shall see you the same time next week.”
“Oh,” Lia was astonished by the invitation, the assumption, and the inclusion. “Thank you.”
“And you, Stormy,” she patted Raiden’s arse. “Keep a close eye on her.”
“Stormy?” Lia looked up at him, a smile tugging at her lips.
He flushed under her gaze and shrugged.
“Raiden is named after the god of thunder,” his sister, Tara, who had arrived late to the party, but had made up for her absence quickly with her enthusiasm and energy, provided mischievously as she kissed Lia’s cheeks. “Tara means star. Ethan just means strong, which I guess he had to be to be sandwiched between us.”
“Thanks, mum,” Raiden grumbled.
“My name means blind,” Lia offered him with a laugh. “Which I have always found that funny because…” She realized what she had been about to say and caught herself. She had almost been about to say that her name was funny because as a witch, she had the gift of sight. She had been so close to revealing herself, she thought with shock. “Well, obviously, it is an odd thing to name your seeing child,” she finished lamely.
“I have always enjoyed the meanings behind names,” Diedre said warmly, not seeming to notice the pause. “But, despite my offspring’s theories, I did not name my children according to the meaning of their names. I just liked the names, and they were the only ones Wade and I could agree upon.”
Lia wondered why her mother had named her Cecelia and what the discussion between her parents had been around it. Was it just funny that she had been named blind when she had the gift of sight, or was it significant? Her grandmother had always been so paranoid, so frightened of what they were. Could her mother have wished Cecelia born free of her heritage? Could she have wished her child to be blind of the Other world?
Would Cecelia wish the same for her child? She looked up at Raiden thoughtfully. Raiden was a modern man, but he was also a proud werewolf. The grimoire had outlined the werewolf mating ritual and Lia had spent the afternoon teetering between denial and the slowly dawning realization that Raiden was courting her.
And that she was considering it.
If she did, her children would be werewolf. They would not have the option to turn a blind eye to the Other world as they would be firmly rooted in it. Did she want that, for herself, and for her children? Was it better to be definitely Other rather than suspended in between, like herself?
Raiden led them through the gate onto his property. “I have to grab something from inside,” he said, guiding her towards the back door. There was a keypad to unlock it, and he didn’t try to hide the code as he entered it. She averted her gaze out of politeness.
The lights came on as they entered.
The back door opened into an open planned area that stretched the entire length of the house, with a generous kitchen central. To the left of the kitchen was a seating area with tan leather couches gathered around a fireplace, and to the right a heavy wooden table set around with comfortable looking seats.
The kitchen was glossy and new, and the bench tops some type of silken stone. It was spacious, elegant, expensive, and gorgeous. The werewolf had planned his home carefully and with attention to detail, and great taste.
“It is beautiful,” she told him.
He beamed, proud and pleased by her approval. “It is home.”
She followed him into a wide hallway that had been very tastefully decorated in neutrals. There was a sense to the rooms they passed that they were waiting, she thought. They had been beautifully finished, but there was a lack of homely touches, as if Raiden had prepared a canvas for a life yet to be lived. “It must suck to be staying in a half-renovated house when this is home.” There was another lounge to the front, a study, and a powder room.
“Not really,” he said lightly. “I guess I am used to it. I spend more time in the houses I renovate, then here, to be honest. It is my home, but it isn’t really a home, until there is a family in it. It is a big space for me to rattle around in alone.”
He went up the stairs. The stair handrail was a glossy dark wood that invited her touch, over white balusters. The stairs echoed the colours, with the step dark wood, and the riser white. “It is a bit dusty,” he apologised. “I haven’t been home much.”
At the top of the stairs, there was another bathroom, and three doors. He opened the first. “Bedroom with en suite and own lounge,” he told her, then opened the second door. “Same this side. And,” he opened the door directly before them. “Master bedroom.”
This room occupied the entire front of the house, with a massive bed against one wall, and French doors that opened onto Juliet balconies. There was a fireplace against the wall near the bed, and a couch set at its foot, facing a giant TV. Two doors against this wall lead into to a massive walk-in-robe, over half empty, and large en suite which looked barely used.
“Perhaps,” he hesitated in the door to the en suite, his hand resting on the doorframe, his casual pose betrayed by the tension in his shoulders. “You will come back here, next weekend?”
“Alright,” she saw him relax at her casual acceptance and felt a surge of affection for the werewolf – her answer had been important to him, a commitment, she thought, for a future date and a continuance of their relationship. She sat on the couch and looked around her feeling a little like Alice must have felt, arriving in Wonderland the first time. This could be her home, she thought in bafflement. This could be her life.
“What is your school schedule?” He asked as he filled a toiletry bag with items from the vanity.
“My schedule?” She repeated blankly, and then focused. “Umm. Monday is ten until two, Tuesday eight until one, Wednesdays twelve until six, and Thursdays are nine until three. We have Fridays off.”
“Alright. Send me that,” he said moving into the walk-in-robe. “How do you get to and from school?”
“Bus,” she admitted. “Paris and I have our licenses, but the car in the garage won’t start…”
“Does Brock know?” He wondered folding clothing into a backpack. “He is a mechanic by trade.”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Paris only started seeing him, like…”
“Last week,” he supplied.
“Yes.” Was it so short a time? But then, here she was, with Raiden, two nights after meeting him, and he felt like the most vivid and vital part of her life.
“During the week, then, I will get him to take a look.”
“Raiden…” She was bewildered by how fast things were moving. “Paris’ relationships don’t tend to last more than a week.”
He laughed, seeming genuinely amused. “Don’t worry, Lia, this one will.”
“Once a male has decided upon a mate, he is not easily dissuaded from the object of his affection,” she murmured to herself.
“What was that?” He leaned back so he could look at her around the walk-in-robe door frame, frowning.
“Nothing,” she said hastily. Keen hearing. She knew that about werewolves and Others in general.
He finished stuffing clothing into his bag, and added the toiletry bag into the remaining space, dropping the bag onto the couch beside her whilst he fought the zip. “All done.”
For what, exactly, she was not sure. He had packed for more than overnight. He had packed as if he intended not to leave for several days and, if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want him to leave. “Alright,” she stood.
He caught her by the hip and pulled her up against him, kissing her with fierce heat, and barely restrained desire. “My family like you,” he broke off the kiss, having rendered her breathless and molten with need.
She dug her fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth back to hers, as she used the grip of her leg around his hips to lift, so that both legs were wrapped around him. His hands closed on her arse, and he groaned, deepening the kiss until she was sure that his tongue had explored every inch of her mouth. He stepped up onto the couch, and she felt the mattress against her back as he lowered her down, his body coming to rest heavy over her.
“Lia,” he said against her cheek. “We should take you back home. I would like to stay tonight,” he said. As if he had not already planned to do so, and packed to do so, she thought, amused.
“Yes,” she wanted his skin against hers.
“Lia,” he was fighting, his hips pushing against hers in a way that made her want to strip the clothing from between them. “Let’s go.”
He pulled free abruptly, breathing heavily, rolling to his feet, and visibly straining against his fly.
She looked up at him and laughed, dropping her arm over her eyes. “I don’t know what it is about you Raiden,” she admitted. “But it’s like I am on… heat or something, ever since Friday.”
He chuckled and reached down for her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Yeah?” He said lightly, with a rising inflection as he framed her face with his hands. “Well, you are not alone, there, Lia.” He grazed his lips over hers and then drew her hand down to feel the hardness of him through his jeans. “See? Let’s go back to your house before I get too carried away.”
“You won’t get carried away at my house?” She wondered as they left the bedroom and he turned off the light.
He flashed her a grin and a shrug. “Can’t promise that.”
It was fully dark outside as they made their way toward the car, and the car lights cast ominous shadows against foliage as he reversed down the driveway. She almost thought that the lights kicked back off red-tinged eyes, but when she looked again, she could not see them. The moment, however, raised the hair on her arms, and sent a shiver of unease through her.
The gates closed behind them, and he eased the Ute down the street. She looked up at him, scrutinizing his profile in the shifting light. There was an odd conflict in how she felt about Raiden, she thought. On one level, he was so familiar and safe, and on the other, so new, and unknown. She did not know which sense of him to trust, and it left her feeling unbalanced. She wanted to trust him.
She wanted, she thought with a shock, the future that he would give her. She wanted to share that future with him. She wanted a yard full of werewolf children chasing fairies whilst she and Raiden hosted a barbecue populated by loved ones.
He glanced at her and smiled, reaching out to take her hand. “Tell me your favourite band.”
“What?” She looked at him, startled by the question.
“Who do you like to listen to?”
“Hidden Citizens,” she said. “And Hey Violet.”
“Hey,” his grin widened. “So do I.”
She laughed. “No way,” she said with mocking sarcasm.
“Yes,” he pressed a button on the stereo and a song by Hey Violet blasted out. He adjusted the volume. “I am not lying.”
She flushed, oddly pleased that they shared a taste in music, and embarrassed that she had thought he lied. “You know that doesn’t help things,” she said. “That you like the same music, is strangely sexy.”
He slid her a look out of the corner of his eye, and grinned. “Point on my scoreboard.”
“Honestly,” she sighed heavily. “There are not many minuses.”
“Is that so?” The gold of the Other flashed in his eyes as the streetlights reflected.
“Your family is wonderful, you have an amazing house, and obviously a good job, you open car doors, and offer rides home. You are polite, and interested in what I say, I like you, and you are sexy as all hell,” she ticked them off on her fingers. “And I mean, I can barely stop myself from stripping your clothes from you in front of your mother, sexy. You worry about getting me home, so I get to class tomorrow on time, and now you like the same bands…”
“I am still at the stripping me in front of my mother part,” he replied.
She giggled.
“Well, good,” he said. They were approaching her street. “Because there are negatives, Lia. I just hope that the positives outweigh them.”
“No one is without negatives, Raiden,” she replied. He was a werewolf and thought that she did not know it. She was a witch, and she was sure that he did not know. That was a conversation for the near future, if this went where she was hoping it would go.
He pulled into her driveway and killed the lights. “We are just people, ultimately,” said as if reading her mind. He turned to her. “I hope this is just the beginning for us, Lia. Are you going to invite me in?”
“Yes,” she did not hesitate. “I want to sleep with your skin against mine.” She saw the flare of the Other in his eyes as his lips curled, recognizing his own words.
“Strangely enough,” he said, softly. “I feel the same way.”
They went into the house quietly in case Paris and Cael slept, and he opened the door into her bedroom. They were more confident this time, taking turns in the bathroom, and sliding into bed in their skin. She reached for him, lifting her mouth to his, the kiss heating between them, and their bodies pressing against each other with need.
“Lia,” his voice broke on the word, and she felt the tremor through his muscles and knew what he wanted. It was the same thing that she wanted, and yet she hesitated. He pressed his lips against her cheek. “It is alright. No hurry.”
She closed her hand around him and felt him moan, and his hips move, thrusting into her grip. The Other was vivid in his eyes as he kissed her, and she wondered how it was that humans could miss it. There was something beautiful in the shine of it, that it quite stole her breath. “Lia,” her name was a prayer on his lips.
He lifted over her, positioning himself in the v of her legs, and thrusted his hips with a moan, simulating sex without the penetration. He rubbed against her in this position in the most delicious way, and she clenched her legs together as she lifted her hips into him. She could see his stomach muscles working to hold the position and move against her in just the right way.
Sex, without it being sex, she thought stroking down the ridges of his arm muscles. Just one shift of angle, and they would cross that boundary. That she knew he would not, was as erotic as watching him above her, the sweat beading over his brow, and his eyes losing focus as he sought his release against her. She felt her body crest the edge a moment before he did, and grasped his hips against hers, pressing up against him to prolong the contact.
He gasped out his release, his seed striking her intimately. She stroked her hands down him back and over his arse, feeling the tremble of him, as he came, until he sank heavy over her. She pressed her lips against his shoulder.
“I think you might need to change the sheets tomorrow,” he chuckled against her neck, kissing the pulse point beneath her ear. “Though if you want to sleep in them, I wouldn’t mind. I like to smell myself on you and that is certainly one way to do it.”
“The other way is to stay in my bed,” she whispered, a subtle hint, she thought, that she knew what he was. “Isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she felt a stillness settle over him, a tension as he wondered and then denied that she would know what he was. She wanted to tell him, inched her way towards the confession, but was unsure how to begin, and too long conditioned to silence. “I would like that too.”
“So would I.”