Bayou Shadow Protector. Debbie Herbert
steamed the windshield thingy. Chulah lifted the helmet’s flap and she sucked air.
“I’m ready,” she announced bravely. She was used to flying, the wind fanning her face and hair, free and wild. Had dreamed of a motorcycle ride as a new kind of flying, human style.
His hands were suddenly at her throat and she gasped, taking an involuntary step back.
“Relax. I’m just tightening the straps.”
“Oh.” She glanced down, mesmerized by the sight of his olive-skinned fingers so close to her pale neck. Fantasies that had nothing to do with motorcycle riding filled her mind, and she shut her eyes. His hands were warm and competent, and a little shiver of pleasure rippled through her as they accidentally brushed against the vulnerable hollow of her throat.
“There. You’re good.”
Did she imagine his voice had a huskier edge, an undertone of desire? Her eyes flew to his face, but his back already faced her as he straddled the bike, putting on his own helmet. Chulah motioned with his hands. “Let’s go.”
Now she would get to wrap her arms around his waist. April almost licked her lips. She walked to the bike, assessing it, before lifting her skirt and swinging a leg over the side. The skirt rode up to her butt, but she should be fine. She’d often observed human women exposing much more skin at the beach.
The motorcycle lurched forward, and she wrapped her arms around his trim waist. Damned helmet prevented laying her face between Chulah’s broad shoulders. She itched to explore the muscles that she’d seen many a time as he worked outside in his yard. Soon, April promised herself. Very soon.
The roaring of the engine pounded in her ears, and she acclimated to the jerk and shudder of tires hitting small potholes. April liked the ride very much. What it lacked in fairy finesse, it made up for in raw power. No wonder Chulah rode so much when he was troubled. On his Harley, he harnessed that power and focused his attention on the open road.
Pine trees and dirt roads gave way to buildings and pavement. Unease prickled down her spine. She much preferred the woods, but had made periodic, invisible trips to downtown Bayou La Siryna in preparation for this mission.
A mermaid statue came into view and she breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar landmark. “Turn left at the next light,” she yelled to Chulah.
He nodded in acknowledgment, and as they turned onto Main Street, she counted the buildings to her left. One, two three, four... “Stop here,” she directed.
Chulah expertly swerved into a parking space and shut off the engine. April sat, waiting for him to get off first.
He lifted his helmet, and the hair that had been secured inside it fell loose. A veil of soap-scented warmth enveloped April’s neck and shoulders. She again cursed the helmet as it blocked her face from experiencing the same intimate contact. Fumbling with the straps, she took off her own helmet and shook her hair free.
Chulah glanced over his shoulder. “Get off,” he commanded.
April hastily complied, throwing one bare leg over the side to dismount. A loud whistle erupted across the street where three young men stared and pointed. Usually a sign of approval, if she remembered correctly.
She looked around, but no one else was close by. Were they whistling at her or Chulah? And for what reason?
Chulah scowled at them and they walked on by, laughing.
“Why were those guys whistling at you?” she asked. “Were they admiring your parking skills, perhaps?”
He arched a brow and studied her curiously. “They were whistling at you. Not me.”
“Why me?”
“I suspect it was the show of leg,” he remarked drily.
But she’d shown less skin than women in bathing suits. Did they constantly whistle while at the beach? Very confusing. The Council had advised covering confusion with diversion. April ran a hand through her hair. “So,” she said brightly. “Would you like to come inside for a drink?”
This was a human convention she was sure was appropriate. And her apartment was supposed to be well stocked in all manner of human food and drink.
“No.” He turned his back on her and headed for his bike.
“Wait,” she called out hurriedly. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink? It might be more comfortable to talk about your problem with me than riding your motorcycle all evening.”
He slowly turned and confronted her, his face a stone mask. “What makes you think I have a problem? You don’t even know me.”
Oh, but she did. Only Chulah couldn’t know that yet—if ever. That would happen only once he trusted and fell in love with her. Then she could share all her secrets. That was, if he could forgive her. A very big if.
“True, I don’t know you well,” she admitted, scrambling for an explanation. “I just thought you seemed, um, preoccupied and worried.”
His jaw clenched. “I’m fine.”
She’d inadvertently injured his pride to suggest otherwise. “All right, then.” She smiled and shrugged. “Since you’ve already played my knight in shining armor, maybe you could help me out again.”
“What do you want now?”
His response was not promising. How was she to build a relationship with him if he wouldn’t even have a drink with her? She couldn’t fail. To return to the Fae realm in defeat would be humiliating. She’d been so cocky, so sure that Chulah would help them stop Hoklonote.
And she’d been equally certain that he would return her warm feelings could he but meet her in human form. It was what she’d been dreaming of for so many years. That, and restoring the good name of her mother in the fairy realm.
Foolish, foolish Tallulah had rejected his heart. What April wouldn’t have given to be in Tallulah’s shoes. Hurt and jealousy lanced April inside, a new sensation. Sure, she’d known sadness and disappointment, but not this searing stab in the gut as she’d witnessed Chulah’s proposal. Her eyes watered.
“Are you crying?” Chulah asked, surprise written on his face. “Ah, damn...don’t do that.”
She stiffened. “I am not crying,” she said with all the dignity she could muster. “If I were, there would be tears running down my face. Which they are not.” It didn’t count if they were contained behind eyelids; she was pretty sure on that score.
“What the hell,” he muttered. “Let’s have a drink.”
“Really?” She brightened. “You won’t regret it. It’ll be fun.”
“Whatever.” He strapped his helmet on the handlebars and motioned for her to hand her own over. She did, and he tossed it in the side bag and buckled it up.
April opened her purse, searching for the store key. In the back room was a staircase leading to her upstairs apartment.
The Pixie Land door swung open and a short man with a red beard beamed at them. “Hey, boss, I’ve ’bout got all the inventory unpacked and ready to open for business in the morn.”
Steven, a fellow fairy helping in the mission, had caught her by surprise. She’d thought he’d have returned to the Fae realm by now. “Th-that’s great,” she said. “We’re going upstairs—”
“No, we’re going to a bar,” Chulah interrupted. He walked over to Steven and extended a hand. “Chulah Rivers.”
“Steven Andrews,” he smoothly replied, shaking hands. “Pleasure to meet ya.”
Chulah nodded and gestured down the street. “The bar’s only a block from here. We can walk.”
“Sure.”
“Excuse us a moment, will ya?” Steven said to