Beth's Acceptance (Destiny's Trinities) Read online

  “Tell me to stop,” he said.

  “Zack...” It was all she could manage. His hand on her thigh was making her weak, making her tremble. She could barely concentrate on anything else but his hot fingers. They were sliding higher, almost as if they were tasting her flesh through the fine fibers of her stockings. Then they touched the lace tops and he paused. His eyes closed and the corners of his mouth lifted. “Stockings,” he rumbled. “You’re killing me.” His thumb arched high enough to stroke her flesh above the lace. One stroke.

  She gasped and shuddered at his touch, so close to her vulva. Her pussy ached for him.

  Zack looked into her eyes. “Tell me to stop,” he repeated, his voice low.

  “Like last time?” Her voice was hoarse.

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t, Zack. Not again.” She gripped his wrist and pushed his hand up between her thighs, until it was hard up against her pussy where only black lace was a barrier between him and her. “You’re just going to have to take me.” Her pussy was exploding with sensations at the touch of his hand and she knew her panties were sodden with moisture. He couldn’t fail to notice.

  He ripped his hand away with a hiss and the movement unbalanced her. The tray she was carrying tumbled to the table. She saw it happening as if it was in slow motion. It was a curious sensation—not quite slow motion as it was in the movies, for everything happened at normal speed. But she saw everything and was able to react in time anyway. She reached out to grab as many glasses as possible and save them. It was a stacked tray of empties so there were quite a few.

  But Zack was faster.

  Despite their combined speed, at least one glass smashed on the tiled table top and the heavy base of the glass landed base-upwards, the jagged shards pointing up. Beth could see Zack’s hand coming down on the high side of the base, as he was bringing it under the last glass to catch it. She brought her own hand under his to protect him, and felt the smaller points of the glass puncture the back of her hand as the impact of the falling glass smacked into Zack’s. His hand must have been severely injured.

  Time dropped back into its normal pace.

  “Jesus Christ,” Zack whispered, looking at her. “I’ve never seen a—” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen anyone with such fast reactions as yours.”

  In the main bar section, people were reacting to the sound of breaking glass, whistling and clapping.

  “Yours are faster,” Beth murmured. She pulled her cloth from the back of her apron. “Let me wrap your hand up, then we’ll get it seen to.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, pulling his hand out of hers, and using his other hand to pick up her injured one. “What about you?”

  Annoyed, Beth whipped the towel around the minor puncture on the back of her hand. “Done. Let me see your hand, Zack. You were skewered on the big point of that glass. Look, there’s blood all over it. Let me see.”

  He glanced at the jagged base of the shattered glass and swallowed. Then he bought out his hand and showed her. “See, not a scratch,” he said lightly. “Must be your blood on the glass, so let’s look at your hand.”

  She grabbed his hand, really pissed now, and turned it over and back, examining it closely. There wasn’t a mark on it. She glanced at the glass and recalled the moment she’d taken the impact of his hand and the glass on top it again. It had been his hand on the taller spike of glass, she was sure of it.

  She looked up at him, probing his face. He stared back at her calmly.

  “Let’s see your hand, Beth,” he said, and lifted her hand, unwrapping the towel.

  She let him, mutely trying to put it together. There was something here...just out of her grasp.

  “Ah, there’s a piece of glass in there,” he murmured. She felt the micro-tug as he removed it. There was a little gush of blood that ran down her wrist and he mopped it up with the towel, working carefully. He checked the edges. “Clean,” he declared and kissed it. “To make it better.”

  His eyes were dancing with devilment.

  “Liar,” she said.

  His thumb was rubbing over her wrist and she felt it pause over the pulse, measuring it, making it leap.

  He licked his lips. “What would you have me do?” he murmured.

  “Fuck me,” she said. “Is that so hard?”

  His chest rose and fell. “You have no idea,” he said at last, and it was like every word was forced out of him.

  Tears pricked her eyes. “Why? I don’t get it. That’s twice today. Am I ugly? A pain to talk to? Do I have bad breath? Whine too much? God, I don’t even charge money! Talk about a dream come true...I’m not even asking for a commitment, Zack. Just sex. Why is that so difficult?”

  He put his fingers over her lips and shook his head. “Stop,” he said softly.

  “That’s why you went away last time, isn’t it?” Her tears fell now. She couldn’t stop them.

  He stepped out of the booth, away from all the glass. She moved away from him, sensing what he was going to do. He was a tall man, but her mind couldn’t help the comparison...she thought Luke would be a fraction taller.

  “Don’t you dare give me a pity hug,” she said, lifting a finger in warning.

  His expression didn’t change. “A goodbye hug.”

  She nodded dumbly. She had brought this on herself. If she had played it smarter, been prettier or something, maybe it might have had a different ending. She let Zack wrap his arms around her and tuck her against his shoulder. He brushed her ponytail back over her shoulder so he could see her face. “I have to go,” he said softly and she could feel his voice against her chest.

  She could feel his cock against her stomach, too. Hard, thick and hot. Pulsing with life that enveloped her with the same energy. He wanted her. Luke wanted her, too. But not enough to take, no matter what she did.

  So Beth gave in to an impulse she’d had since the moment she’d first met Zachariah. She ran her fingers through his thick hair and kissed him, thrusting her tongue far into his mouth.

  He moaned helplessly, his arms locking around her in either shock or protest. But that frozen state lasted for less than a heartbeat. Then Zack was kissing her back and it was no chaste kiss goodbye. His tongue drove into her like a battering ram, promising wicked delights to come. His hand was on the back of her head, holding her steady as he plundered her mouth.

  A shudder of primeval, greedy delight ran through her. She had the feeling she had reaped a whirlwind and didn’t care.

  When he released her lips, she gasped, afraid he might stop, but his mouth merely slid down her throat, nipping and licking, then along her collarbone, making her shudder.

  His hand roamed over her body, making her writhe, making her hot. He seemed to know every sensitive patch and point of her anatomy, even those she wasn’t aware of, but he never once touched her breasts or the usual erogenous points. She remained on her feet only because of his arm around her back. Until finally he slid his hand between her thighs and began to stroke once more the flesh above the lace of her stockings. His fingers moved higher, pushed aside the sodden lace barrier and as he stared into her eyes, he impaled her with his fingers.

  She gave a shuddering, whimpering gasp that he smothered with another kiss.

  The invasion of the irregular shape of his fingers felt wonderful. Beth’s pussy contracted around him and she could already feel the deep, subterranean beginnings of a climax start to build. As he fucked her with his fingers, sliding the rough digits in and out of her cunt, his lips and tongue and teeth explored her face.

  She was falling apart. Floating.

  “Zack...”

  “Come for me,” he whispered against her throat as he licked it. She could feel his saliva coat her flesh. “I can feel your pulse.” His teeth brushed the nape of her neck.

  “Zack?” The power of the building climax was hard to ignore, but there was something...odd about what he said.

  Suddenly, Zack’s fingers were withdrawn from her vagina. His h
ands lifted her to her feet and she was left, swaying unsteadily, on her own facing the main room bar, and the light there that seemed much too bright.

  “What...?”

  He was behind her. She could feel him. But he was not touching her.

  “Stop calling me, Beth,” he whispered in her ear.

  What? her startled mind asked. But before she could think to ask the question aloud and this time demand an answer, he was gone. She spun around in time to see the exit door swinging shut on him.

  “All the bloody saints in heaven, what the hell happened, girl?”

  Beth turned again, to find Jerry in the doorway to the main bar, blocking off the light. She rubbed the ball of each hand into her eye sockets, trying to hide her tears. “I had an accident,” she said helplessly, waving toward the tabletop with the tray, the broken glasses and the traces of blood on them.

  “Christ, I hope that’s your blood and not a customers?”

  “It’s mine,” she said, and held up her hand with the minor cut on the edge. “Zack didn’t get a single nick out of it.”

  “Zachariah? You mean that idiot that flirted with you for three whole months then left town? That Zack?” Jerry moved towards the table.

  She nodded and began picking up whole glasses and putting them back on the tray again, keeping her face away from Jerry.

  “Well, I hope to Christ he left a bloody good tip, then, the bastard,” Jerry said, steaming. He was a good boss, in spite of the sometimes flaky student bar staff he had to deal with, but Beth knew he’d taken Zack’s desertion as personally as she had.

  Then she found the note. She lifted it and turned it over. It looked quite genuine, but then, she’d never seen one before. She held the $500 bill up to Jerry. “He did,” she confirmed dryly, her tears all gone.

  “That’s my girl,” Jerry said happily, heading back to the bar.

  But as Beth worked to clean up the mess and shut down the back acre for the night, she couldn’t dismiss either the tip, or Zack’s behavior as easily as Jerry had. The tip was almost insulting and there were oddities about Zack that raised questions Beth couldn’t answer. They were, simply, outside the range of the usual.

  At thirty-two, she was a mature age student and often painfully aware of the sea of experience between her and the gawky, still wet-behind-the-ears kids tumbling around the campus each year. So she had the perspective, now, to know that what had just happened with Zack was not normal.

  She pushed the reasoning to its logical end. In the English language, anything outside normal experience was “para.” That meant if it wasn’t normal, it was paranormal.

  Beth shuddered again. It wasn’t with delight this time.

  Chapter Two

  McGinty’s was on the other side of Morningside Park from her apartment, edging into East Harlem. It was popular with students because Jerry kept the prices nice and low. Beth usually did weekend shifts and finished in the wee hours of the morning, so she had long ago budgeted a cab home into her finances and worked hard to make sure her tips were heavy enough to cover the expense. At that time of the day, in that neighborhood, a cab was a necessity, not a luxury.

  But when she emerged from McGinty’s, she found that the afternoon’s rain hadn’t let up. It was a dolloping downpour that pounded on the pavement—a fat, heavy drumming that guaranteed not a single cab would be anywhere around. They’d all be south of Central Park, ferrying the big tippers.

  Beth took off her shoes and clutched them in one hand, studying the intersection and the lonely street, and the park, one block down. Who would want to bother a poor student on a night like this?

  She looked over her shoulder, feeling the skin between her shoulder blades tighten and itch. It felt like someone was watching her. The sensation made her move before she realized she had committed herself to this course of action. The traffic light turned green and she took off running across the street, creating splashes with each footfall. She was wet through almost instantly and was chilled just as quickly, but knew that would pass soon enough. She kept up the pace, settling into it, moving easily.

  In the shop windows she passed she caught a glimpse of her own reflection—long legs striding. Then others—shadows, moving behind her.

  Adrenaline surged. She was being followed. She quickened her pace. Not a sprint, she had too far to go and they hadn’t committed themselves yet.

  As she moved onto the path that wound through Morningside Park, the rain stopped. It was dark and lonely. She knew they would try there. She gripped a shoe in each hand so that the heels protruded and kept running. They were gaining. She could hear them now, behind her. Panting, growling. It was a feral sound.

  She realized that somewhere inside her she was scared, but it was tucked away. Her mind was busy dealing with other considerations. Details that she had never thought about before. How many of them? She could hear three distinct steps and she recognized claws scratching on the cement of the pathway and marveled at the clarity of her hearing even as she clinically labeled the footsteps.

  The breathing she listened to was marred by saliva strands. The rain would make their footing uncertain on the concrete, as they wore no shoes. But neither did she...no advantage there. They were shorter than her, but not by much.

  Then she heard one leap, by the grunt of his voice and the scratch of his toes.

  She ducked and threw herself sideways towards the trees, taking herself right out of his path of flight. He overshot and squealed in protest. It was one of the ugliest sounds she had ever heard.

  The others came for her immediately and she ducked behind the tree trunk. She didn’t wait, knowing it was no protection at all. Instead she sprinted for the glow of the streetlight, twenty yards ahead. Light, she thought, was her friend. They’d waited until they were in the dark.

  The first attacker grabbed at her shoulder, spinning her around and she finally saw what it was that pursued her.

  They were human once, maybe, she thought. Their eyes were human-looking beneath a red glaze that glowed furiously. The faces seemed human enough if they weren’t twisted in agonized snarls. Their mouths were full of sharp teeth, jutting at all angles, reminding her of barracudas and piranhas, predators that tore their prey to bits.

  She drove the heel of her shoe into the creature’s eye and he let go of her arm with a howl of pain, his claws scraping across her skin. The sound he made was that of an animal, not a human.

  Beth turned to sprint for the light again but halted, for Luke appeared in the middle of the path, just in front of her, like an apparition or a ghost. One second there was nothing, next he was there, solid and very real. He reached behind him. “Step out of the way,” he said quietly.

  Like her fear, Beth found she was able to lock away her shock and questions. She stepped aside and watched as Luke pulled out a long, curved knife. He grabbed the creature by the throat with his other hand. Moving with deceptively casual speed, he drew the knife lightly across the creature’s throat beneath where he gripped it.

  The creature made a bubbling, gurgling sound, scrabbling at Luke’s hand. Luke tossed him to one side, where it continued to kick at the grass with its heels. Luke looked at the other two creatures, his scowl deepening, and his knife bloody.

  “I’ve got that one,” said another voice.

  Beth turned. Zack was striding toward the other two immobile creatures, a scowl on his face. She realized that Zack was moving very fast, moving beyond normal human speed. Her perceptions had stepped up to follow him. It made the creatures seem like they were standing still and not reacting at all. He reached past their slowly raising hands, put his hands on either sides of their heads and banged their heads together.

  Then he grabbed the head of one before it could fall to the ground and twisted it, breaking the neck. But he twisted so hard and savagely and with such strength, that the head was completely severed from the neck.

  As the third body dropped to the ground, Luke fell on it and drove the knife into
the heart and twisted it with a viciousness that she would not have thought him capable of.

  The two men stood up and stepped back, eyeing each other, Luke holding the bloody knife with the blade still up.

  “You’re a long way from home,” Zack said. “You should go back there before I forget what you just did to help out here.”

  “Help out?” Luke gave a laugh. “I didn’t know your kind had a sense of humor.”

  Beth crept forward, her heart pounding. She didn’t understand what was happening, but knew that she was about to find out if she stayed silent. The tension singing in the air was like the ozone promise of a thunderstorm on a hot August afternoon.

  “Look, I was called here,” Zack said patiently, as if explaining to a two year old.

  Luke’s knife lowered. He looked shocked. “So was I,” he said simply. As one, they both turned to look at her.

  Stop calling me, Beth. Zack’s whispered words.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. “Who are you? Who are those creatures? And what did they want with me?”

  Luke and Zack glanced at each other again and Luke shook his head. “I don’t know,” he answered her. “This is outside anything we’ve ever experienced.”

  Zack grimaced. “Well damn, I guess I’m going to have to agree with the elf man on this one. I don’t know either.”

  Beth could feel the panic, the questions and the shock starting to fight its way clear of the dampers she had put on it. “Elf man?” she whispered, looking at Luke.

  He sighed and lifted a hand to his hair and tucked it behind his ear. It had a distinct point to it. “My name—my real name—is Lindál. I’m Elvish,” he said simply. He grimaced. “Sorry.”

  “Then,” she turned to face the path where she thought she had seen him appear. “When I saw you just a minute ago, I really did see you...”

  “Yes,” he said softly. “I teleported. I was called here by your distress. Your mental call for help. Elves have a traditional enemy, Beth.”