Fantasmic Tales: Poppy Rider And The Glass Shards Read online

  "Moira isn't like that. She's also a good witch and only deals in white magic--not that awful negative energy stuff."

  "Anything else? Like you want to tell me who has her damn son? Sounds to me like this is something she should be able to handle herself, being a witch and all."

  Her grandmother swallowed. "Now don't assume anything by this, dear. Just because the woman's got a...reputation as sort of a...cougar, if you know what I mean? And not exactly one of the nice kind."

  "So she's older and she's got a bite. How bad a bite? Don't tell me she's a shape-shifter. Or possessed by a demon?" Poppy narrowed her vision, peering at her grandmother closely waiting for her response.

  "Well, dear, it's quite a frosty bite."

  "Her name, Grandma." Waiting...waiting...

  "Franceska Antonova."

  "And exactly who is she?" Poppy felt it coming--another bomb about to explode.

  "She's the Ice Queen."

  "Oh. My. God. You did not do this to me." Pow! And there it was.

  "Now, dear. Franceska and Moira have always had a few issues, but this goes beyond anything else. If one of Franceska's darned demons hadn't been screwing around up in her neck of the world, none of this would have happened. Those nasty little things are always causing trouble. That wolf who attacked me--do you think he would have done it if he hadn't struck that bargain with a demon? Of course not. A cursed lot--the whole darned bunch of them."

  "A demon?" Poppy squeaked.

  Grandma folded her white paper napkin and placed it into the basket. "Well, I'm not saying any more. You have to speak with my dear friend, Moira. And I do recommend at least going up there to see her. You and Will and--the wolf animal."

  Poppy was struck speechless. She tried to dust off the debris from the explosion of her grandmother's words. What had her grandmother gotten them into? And was there a snowball's chance in hell that Poppy was going to be able to talk them out of this mess without losing skin over it?

  Chapter 2

  * * *

  Poppy should not have been surprised to find Will Hunter pacing in her living room when she arrived home. He looked a bit worse for wear, a day's growth of beard darkening his strong jaw, blue eyes looking a bit red, deep creases framing his eyes and mouth.

  "So what's the emergency, Red? Gram's message said it was urgent. I thought you were dying or something."

  Where did she start? She closed the cabin door, taking her time, trying to figure out how to tell him what her grandmother had told her.

  "You are not going to believe this."

  "So, you're not in trouble? Then what's this all about?"

  "Hey, I'm sorry she got you down here under false pretenses. Do you want something to eat? You look all beat."

  "Well, jeez, I flew off the mountain once I got her message. I thought something had happened to you." He strode across the room and grabbed her by the arms. Lifting her off the floor, he planted a blistering kiss on her lips that curled her toes and it sure did leave her breathless. There was something about the scratch of a man's beard that sent her libido soaring.

  Carefully, he lowered her until her feet touched the floor. His look was very dark, very rough and rugged. She felt the burn begin to simmer low in her loins. And like it always did when Will came to town, everything else flew out of her head. Clothing hit the floor with the speed of light. Both hers and his. A condom magically appeared. She found herself flat up against the closed door, legs raised, her breasts flattened against his broad black-pelt covered chest, with him pounding into her with his thick, hard cock. Her arms clamped around his neck, his lips fused to hers, the repeated sound of wood creaking with each powerful thrust into her pussy. The scrape and burn of bristly beard pushed her higher, faster. The friction of heat against her flesh, his cock pressing her open, burned her up inside.

  God, how could she forget how good it was with him when he was in town? How could she forget how much she loved being in his arms, having him inside her?

  He yanked her away from the door, dropped to his knees and continued thrusting into her, shoving her down onto the primitive multi-colored rug Gray had vacated earlier that day. Poppy's legs curled around Will's waist, her hips levered off the floor, sending him deeper inside her.

  Sweat dripped. She licked a salty droplet from his neck, then latched onto his earlobe and tugged. He growled and ground deeper into her, fused bodies, he rotated his hips and she thought she was going to shatter as her climax roared through her with the speed of a raging forest fire hungry for dry timber.

  He captured her scream with his mouth, swallowed it whole. Slowly she floated back down into her own body, every nerve ending wildly alive. Will was still hard as rock. He pulled from inside her. Then he lifted her as though she weighed no more than a feather and flipped her over, pulling her up onto her knees. She loved his lumberjack build, the chained strength of him as he positioned her beneath him.

  She was so wet he slid into her channel with ease, sensations fired as her flesh stretched to accommodate his girth. The sweet ache ran so deep she almost cried with the deeply entrenched bliss that settled inside her. No matter how many times she might deny it, mating with him felt so damned right it scared her.

  And then he began to move, slowly he retreated and then, with a controlled thrust he slid back inside her. Over and over again he rocked into her. She shoved back against him, grinding her own hips, wanted to feel that sweet ache--needing to experience it. She arched and somehow he sank even deeper. She caught her breath, rubbed her clit against the hard log wedged inside her and a small tremor rocked through her. She gasped and pushed again. He pulled out, then back into her, his cock sliding so easily through her cream.

  "God, you feel good, babe," he said in his deep, raspy voice, like sandpaper scraped across raw wood. "I forget how good it is with us when we fuck. I've missed you."

  His hands spanned her waist as he pumped into her. It seemed like she floated in a warm sea of pleasure. She let it carry her away, not wanting it to end. Will certainly knew how to wield that weapon of his in a most lusty and satisfying way. Two more thrusts and he came inside her. Her own third orgasm rippled through her. Then finally Will collapsed beside her onto the rug. She rolled the other way and dropped onto her back. Her body felt like it was still steaming from the fiery combustion that exploded between them.

  The cool air felt good as she lay there trying to catch her breath. Wow. Then something made her look up and she spotted Gray, paws up on the window ledge, his eyes focused on Will and her in all their naked glory.

  "Damned wolf," she muttered as she sprang up from the floor, stalked over to the window, and then yanked the red curtains closed.

  ::You do not think that's going to keep me from fantasizing about what you're doing in there.::

  She refused to answer him. She pivoted around and looked at Will, who lay back against the floorboards, eyes closed, a smile on his lips. God, he looked so good.

  "I'm up for a shower," she said. A cold one would probably do very well right now because she'd really just like to get back down on that floor and screw some more. Instead she stalked toward the bathroom.

  "Wait," Will called, "I'll come with you. You can scrub my back for me."

  Oh, lord, her small hot water tank was not going to be up to this. She turned on the water and then waited a minute before stepping into the narrow Fiberglass cubicle. It was hardly big enough for just her on the best of days. Talk about claustrophobic. Will opened the door and squeezed inside. He rubbed up against her and grinned down at her.

  "Yeah, this is nice and cozy."

  "Cozy, my ass," she said. She tamped down her fears of such a small confined space, refusing to let it get the best of her. His body rubbing against hers helped to get her mind off that damned fear. Somehow it didn't seem so bad having his body pressed against hers in the tiny cubicle. Nothing seemed quite so scary when Will was around. Poppy carefully twisted about to grab some soap and a cloth. She quickly f
ound herself flattened against the white wall of the shower, warm water raining down on them.

  "Mmm, this is good," Will said as he rubbed against her. How the hell could his cock get hard again so quickly? She thought it took men a while to get it back up again, but apparently not in Will's case. He turned her, then lifted her so she was standing on the narrow ledge, which brought her up to just the right height. But he didn't penetrate her with that delicious cock, he allowed his deft fingers to work their magic, stroking inside her, gently stretching her.

  The water and soap made her body slick and she was so eager. His fingers filled her, twisted inside her, and she moaned. He fucked her slow and shallow, not so deep, not so hard, watching her as every shudder of ecstasy burned her flesh. He squirted soap over her breasts, across her shoulders, and then used more on her back. There was no urgency to his actions, just slow and pleasurable. Then the water turned lukewarm and he carefully slid his hand from inside her.

  "Guess we better make this quick," he said, and he rinsed her off. "We need to get you a bigger hot water tank."

  "This suits me just fine in the normal course of things. I don't usually spend all that much time in the shower." He tossed her a towel and she dried off.

  "No other men comment on the hot water problem?"

  She looked at him as she toweled dry, then turned away. "No other men are ever invited up here." It was a full minute before she glanced up.

  Will watched her as he began to rub the moisture from his own big, hard body. He made no comment on her statement. But she saw a small smile twist his lips. God, she had to stop looking at him. She forgot everything that was sane and logical when she was with him.

  "I like showers. If I spent more time here, you'd need to get a bigger one. Maybe a hot tub, too." His blue eyes bored into her. He wasn't saying it, but she sort of knew what he was getting at.

  She dropped the towel and walked into the bedroom. That claustrophobic sensation passed through her again. This was not a conversation she was getting into with him right now.

  "I think we better get dressed. Then I can tell you what Grams had to say. It's sort of complicated."

  He trailed after her into the bedroom, the towel riding low on his lean, tanned hips. The tantalizing black curls at his groin peaked deliciously over the top of the towel. Golden heat pooled inside her once again. "Sure. You still got some of my clothes here?"

  "What? Oh, yeah, sure." She had to stop obsessing about his body. Poppy opened the cedar closet door and grabbed a hanger with his jeans and a shirt. She tossed them to him. He never was one for wearing underwear. No, she was not going to think about that right now.

  "I'll fix us something to eat while you dress. Then we can talk."

  After pulling on a pair of worn blue jeans and a Harley T-shirt, she quickly left the bedroom, walked through the living room, and then opened the door to let Gray in. He gave her a narrow-eyed gaze and a low growl as he trotted past her and into the bedroom. Wolves and men--she'd probably never get either of them.

  "You're serious," Will said an hour later after Poppy had recounted what her grandmother had said to her. Gray lay curled up on the carpet at Will's feet apparently quite content to just listen to the conversation.

  "Well, she seemed serious at any rate. I don't know what to make of it all."

  "She's not...got dementia or something like that? Seeing things or whatever?"

  "No, I don't think so, she has a mind sharp as a tack. It's better than mine most days. I don't know what to tell you." Poppy pulled the business card out of the pocket of her red leather jacket that was hanging on the chair behind her and passed it to him. "This is where we're supposed to go."

  "And you really think we should do this? Go up there and make fools of ourselves?"

  Poppy shrugged. Grams had always seemed to be very levelheaded even if she did have an odd assortment of acquaintances. It didn't feel like she was spinning a yarn of some sort.

  "I think we're going to have to go check it out. That is, if you don't have to get back up to Montana to help your friend. If you're busy, I guess I can do this myself. I have some vacation time coming from work."

  "I'm not letting you go up to Alaska by yourself."

  "I don't need a keeper, you know."

  "Yeah, I know." But there was something behind his words. Something that said maybe she kept her distance too well. "Well, you're not going alone and that's final."

  "If that's the case, do you think we can take your truck? Apparently, I'm supposed to bring Gray with us. According to this Moira. Can't take him on a commercial plane."

  Gray's head popped up and he looked at Poppy.

  ::Me? You're putting me into a truck? Are you crazy?::

  She made a face. "Look, it's not my idea. But apparently you have to come along, so get used to it. Who knows? You might like Alaska--maybe meet someone interesting."

  ::Ha! You know what floats my boat.::

  "Too bad--you're a wolf, remember?"

  "Do you know how weird I find that? That you can talk to him telepathically? And what's too bad?"

  She turned her attention back to Will. "You do not want to know what's going through that wolf's mind. Believe me."

  Chapter 3

  * * *

  "I don't like the look of it," Poppy said as they stood in front of the palatial summer residence of Moira Chastain. "It's too big."

  "You're beginning to sound like Goldie. Too big, too small." He snorted. "I wonder if you'll ever find what you consider just right." Will shook his head. "Forget it. You've just been living in that cabin of yours too long."

  Poppy looked at him for a long time. His words had been tinged with a bit of sting to them, a discomforting taste of disillusionment and frustration attached. Maybe it was just the long ride up from Washington. She turned to look at the house.

  "It isn't that. Places like this just make me feel...small. Like my father's place in Germany. All those old drafty castles. Just too big. A person can get lost in a place like this."

  "You are sort of--short."

  Poppy drew herself up to her full five-foot-three height. "I am not short. And anyway, I'm not talking about physical size, you know. I'm talking about inside." She gazed up at the tall purple and gold spires of the Chastain mansion. "People who live in places like this try to make everyone else feel small."

  Will wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders. "Red, not everyone is like your stepmother. Some of the people who live in these houses are very nice, with really big hearts."

  "I'm just glad Grams let me move in with her. When Gloria's daughters came to stay, they tried to make my life a living hell." Poppy shuddered at the memory of the time they'd locked her in the closet beneath the back stairs. It was almost twenty-four hours before one of the maids found her. One thing it had done was make her more determined to get over her fear of tight, enclosed places. She'd been so scared inside that closet--paralyzingly terrified. It had taken her several weeks and constant nightmares before she recovered from the incident enough to function. Sometimes she still had the nightmares. And sometimes Will was there and would hold her. It was several months after the closet incident that she'd begged her father to let her go live with her grandmother in the States.

  "Come on. Let's go in and get this over with," she said.

  Poppy turned back to the truck, opened the back door, and Gray hopped out.

  ::You sure you want me to go with you? This isn't exactly my sort of hunting ground.::

  "It isn't for any of us. But we need to get this done. And she specifically said you were supposed to come along as well."

  ::Well, this just doesn't feel right. I want to go home.::

  "Gray, get over it. Hopefully we'll be able to head home right after this meeting. Now behave yourself."

  Poppy, Will, and Gray mounted the steps. Will lifted the knocker, which was fashioned in the shape of a gold pentagram.

  A tall, Lurch-thin man dressed in a long purple and gold r
obe and white turban immediately opened the door almost before Will dropped his hand away. He looked the three of them over with dark, deep-set eyes and then stepped back to allow them entry.

  "You are expected," he said in a deep voice as he closed the door with rather an echo of finality that unnerved Poppy.

  ::I'm not liking this at all.::

  "Yeah, I know," Poppy answered under her breath.

  "Follow me, please, Madam is waiting."

  "How did she know exactly what time we would get here? I didn't give her a set time when I spoke with her the other day."

  Will shrugged. "She's a witch. I guess she just knows these things."

  They followed the majordomo across the entryway and through a set of gold-painted doors. Passing through them, they arrived at a second set of doors. The majordomo opened them and then stepped aside.

  "If you please," he said as he bowed and waved them through.

  The door closed behind them. Poppy's attention was riveted immediately on the stunning--well, entity was about the only word she could think of--seated on a purple silk-sheathed chair, in front of a table containing a silver tea service. The white aura of light surrounding her was almost blinding. Poppy squinted and then shaded her eyes, regretting that she'd left her sunglasses in the truck.

  "Oh, my apologies," Moira said, and the aura mellowed. "I forget sometimes. Please come in and sit down. I was very pleased to get Poppy's call. I was worried that you wouldn't agree to take on this case."

  "Well, ma'am..." Poppy started to say.

  "No, please call me Moira. I've known your grandmother for so many years it feels like we're family."

  Oh, man, she was going to make saying no really hard.

  "Moira then, I'm not a licensed investigator or anything. I really don't know that I can be of much help."

  "Oh, I know you're not, dear. But I don't want just anyone to handle this." Moira poured tea into one of the dainty china cups. She looked Poppy directly in the eyes and something strange happened--some odd connection between them--and Poppy could not pull the word "no" from her lips.