Fantasyland 03 Fantastical (34 page)

“You followed him?” I repeated and he
sighed.

“Yes.”

My fist opened and I slapped his chest. “Why
would you do that?”

“The same reason I spent a day wandering
your world when I first got here. You do not wage battle unless you
know the lay of the land. And you never battle an opponent you do
not know and understand even better than he understands
himself.”

What he said was very wise and everything
but I still glared at him through the dark. “But, he could have
seen you! He could have freaked out! He could have lost it! He
could be a bad guy and led you someplace you shouldn’t be.” A
thought struck me and I asked, “Where did he lead you?”

“He led me to what you call a police
station.”

I blinked. Then I breathed, “What?”

“He led me to what you call a police
station,” Tor repeated.

What on earth?

“Why?”

“From observing through the doors when he
went in, it appears he is known there so my guess would be, he goes
there often.”

My voice got high when I asked, “He’s a
cop?
”

“A what?”

“A police officer. An officer of the law. A
–”

“Do these men carry gold emblems?” Tor
interrupted to enquire.

“You mean a badge?” I asked back.

“Perhaps. He carried such as this on his
belt.”

“Yes, a badge and yes, cops carry
badges.”

“Then yes,” Tor stated, “it would seem this
man is a…
cop.
”

Holy crap!

I whirled to sitting and stared into the
darkness.

This, I reckoned, was
not
good.

Tor sat up and called, “Cora?”

I focused on his shadow. “I don’t think this
is good, Tor.”

“I would say there’s no thinking about it,
my love,” he replied and I stared at him.

Great.

“Why would you say that?”

“Is this poker illegal?” he asked.

“Um… no, if it’s done in a casino, of which
there are some around here. But, yes, if the games are
illegal.”

“Then Cora is attending illegal games,” Tor
declared and I blinked.

Then I cried, “How could she even
find
illegal games? And, how did she even learn how to
play
poker? She was here less than two months!
I
wouldn’t even know where to
begin
to find an illegal poker
game and I never understood poker. And… and… not only how but…
why?
”

His arms came out and he pulled me to him,
saying, “The Cora of my world is what she is, and she does what she
does, and very little of it is good. We cannot waste our energy
trying to understand
how
or
why
because the answer to
the first is superfluous and even if we knew the answer to the
second, we would not comprehend it. What we need to expend our
energy on is what kind of danger she has placed
you
in.”

Okay, it must be said, sometimes Tor being
sensible and logical was a good thing.

“Right,” I agreed.

“Share your thoughts,” he demanded and I
relaxed into him.

“Well,” I started, processing them in my
head. “The best case scenario is that he’s a dirty cop and he’s in
on whatever she’s in on, they’re playing at it together. This would
be good since
I
won’t be going to any games, I’m making it
clear he’s out of the picture and he’ll have to find another sugar
mama who can count cards.”

“Go on,” Tor urged when I stopped.

“The worst case scenario, and the one I’m
thinking it is, is that he’s undercover and he’s either
investigating her activities or using her as an in to bring down
some illegal gambling racket.”

“This would be bad,” Tor muttered.

He had
that
right.

“But I would like to know why you think it’s
the worst case scenario,” Tor stated.

I moved so I could see his face (kind of)
and explained, “Well, you said she was cold. He even said she was
cold. And you said that, um… she was not much to write home about
in the bed frolicking department.”

I felt his body shake with laughter and
heard his voice shake with it when he confirmed, “Indeed, she’s not
much to write home about in the
bed frolicking
department.”

I slapped his arm. “Tor, this is
serious!”

“Yes,” he agreed, his voice still shaking,
“talk on.”

I sucked in an annoyed breath and then I
told him, “We have no way of knowing, since she’s so different from
me, what he’s like. I was only around him a few minutes but he
seemed, I don’t know,
sweet.
”

His arms tensed around me and I quickly
forged ahead.

“Anyway, she is who she is so my guess would
be, she thinks she’s playing him. He said she was a wildcat. If she
was a wildcat and he was into her, and he’s even a little bit like
you, then no way that a few missed phone calls and Cora not opening
the door would mean he’d give up and tell her to pack his clothes
in a suitcase and put them out in the hall. That’s saying it’s over
and he’s fine with that. If she’s giving it to him like he likes it
and he’s into her, he’s not going to give up that easy. Unless
she’s
not
giving it to him like he likes it, he’s
pretending
he likes it as a means to an end, she’s giving
him the heave ho and he’s sensing trouble which, as a cop he would
do, so he’s cutting his losses and taking off.”

“This would make sense,” Tor replied.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“This would also mean trouble,” he remarked
and my head tilted.

“Trouble?”

“Love, we have no way of knowing how much
time he invested in this… situation. What
I
know from
experience is that it is highly unlikely Cora of my world could
play that kind of game, especially if she took him to her bed, and
be convincing. Perhaps to a normal man but not one who is trained
to scrutinize human behavior and is on the alert for the sake of
his own safety and the success of his endeavors. I don’t think,
after he devoted time and energy to his inquiry at the same time
enduring her… limited charms… that he would be willing to cut his
losses, as you put it.”

This made sense but I didn’t get it.

“I don’t get it.”

“He won’t be conceding. He’ll be watching
you.”

Oh shit.

“Which means,” Tor carried on, “if we aren’t
careful, me.”

Oh shit!

“Tor,” I whispered.

“Therefore, we must be careful,” Tor
concluded.

“What if he’s already watching and he’s seen
you?” I asked.

“Considering the uncomfortable feeling
seeing another me gave
me
, and I knew he existed, I would
surmise that we would know if this was the case already.”

I sucked in breath. Then I nodded.

“So what do we do?” I enquired.

“I don’t know. I need to think on it.”

I stared at his shadowed face. Then I nodded
again.

He started righting both of us in the bed.
“But to think clearly, I need sleep.”

I gently pulled away from his efforts to
right me in bed.

He might need sleep but he wasn’t going to
get it. At least, not for awhile.

“Cora?” he called.

I shoved my hand under the pillow and pulled
out my nightie, saying softly, “Just a minute.”

Luckily, with only a searching look at me,
he let it go. I pulled the nightie on while he rolled off the bed
to disrobe. Then I sat on the side of the bed, took off my sandals
and dashed to the bathroom to grab the white stick with the pink
plus sign on it. Then I dashed out of the bathroom to the kitchen
being certain not to look at him on the way and also trying not to
hyperventilate because I was nervous. In the kitchen, I lit the two
birthday candles on the top (one pink, one blue – he wanted a son
but Lord knew, at this point, it was a fifty-fifty shot). Then I
walked the cake slowly back to my room.

When I got close to the bed, I saw Tor was
sitting up in it, his eyes I could see by the minimal candlelight
were not on the cake. They were on me.

And they were burning.

“Love,” he whispered, his deep voice
strange, like there was an ache in it.

I sat on the bed and held the cake between
us. His eyes finally went to the cake.

Then they came back to mine and there it
was. Definitely an ache.

“You did not need to do this to apologize,”
he said softly then his eyes went back to the cake and I understood
the ache. He was remembering the last time I walked into a room
with one. “
Especially
not this,” he finished.

“Honey,” I replied quietly, “I didn’t make
it as an apology. I made it for a celebration.”

He looked at me. “Pardon?”

I balanced the cake on one hand and lifted
the white stick with the other.

“In my world, you can buy pregnancy tests at
the drugstore. When you left, I bought one, took it and –”

Just like that, the cake was whisked out of
my hand and the candles flickering out as it was swiftly deposited
on the nightstand. Then the white stick was yanked out of my other
hand and Tor tossed it to the floor.

Then I was on my back with Tor’s body
covering mine.

His hands framed my face. “It is confirmed,
you’re carrying my child,” he declared.

“Uh… yes,” I whispered.

“And you feel this is cause for
celebration,” he noted, his voice husky.

“Um… I’m scared,” I whispered my confession.
“But… uh… yes,” I agreed shakily.

I barely got the “s” out on “yes” when Tor’s
mouth slammed down on mine and he kissed me, deep, wet, rough and
thorough and while he was doing it, his arms closed around me and
he rolled so I was on top.

His hands went into my nightie, yanking it
up and I had to break free of his mouth when he pulled it over my
head.

“Tor, the cake –” I started.

One of his hands fisted in my hair, the
other one curled into the flesh of one of the cheeks of my
bottom.

“We’ll have it for breakfast,” he
replied.

“You can’t eat cake –”

His fingers on my ass flexed. “Quiet.”

“But –”

He rolled again so he was on top, shifting
his hips insistently until I opened my legs and his hips fell
between.

“Quiet,” he repeated on a growl, “I’m about
to fuck my wife and the only words I want her saying when I do it
are ‘yes’, ‘Tor’, ‘my prince’, ‘baby’ and ‘oh my God’. Am I
understood?”

God, he was bossy.

“God, you’re bossy,” I snapped.

He slid inside me and my neck arched.

Damn, but I loved the feel of him inside
me.

“Cora, am I understood?”

“You’re understood,” I breathed.

His mouth came to mine and he whispered,
“Good.”

Then he kissed me and started to move and
for the next half an hour the only words I said were “yes”, “Tor”,
“my prince”, “baby,” and “oh my God”.

* * * * *

Weak sun was touching the sky as my eyes
drifted closed and sleep started to claim me.

“Sweets?” Tor called and my only answer was
to press closer. He nevertheless heard my answer loud and clear and
kept talking. “That cake was superb.”

My eyes opened and I saw the wall of his
chest.

He’d made love to me then I’d gone to the
kitchen, got a knife, cut a slice of cake and fed him with my
fingers. Then I cut another one and he fed me. Then I licked his
fingers clean. His eyes watched my mouth through every second of me
doing it, they darkened in a way that was too sexy for words and
when his fingers were clean, he made love to me again.

Now I’d had four orgasms, a piece of damn
good cake (even if I did say so myself) and the man I loved was in
my arms. And, according to my mother and finally paying attention,
it appeared the man I loved was both devoted to me
and
adored me.

All was not right in my world but all was
pretty freaking great in my now.

I slid my hand through the hair on his chest
and replied quietly, “I’m glad you liked it.”

“‘Like’,” he muttered on a squeeze of the
arms he held me with, “is not the word I’d choose.”

I didn’t think he was talking about just the
cake.

I smiled against his chest and my eyes
started to drift closed.

“Cora?” he called again.

“Yes, baby,” I whispered, not opening my
eyes.

“Who are you?” he whispered back.

“Your wife,” I answered sleepily and
burrowed closer.

“Bloody right,” he muttered and I smiled
again then drifted off to sleep.

The Only Hope We Have

The loud banging at the front door jolted
both of us awake.

I blinked, rolled out of Tor’s strong arms
and away from his warm body, feeling like I had an hour’s sleep
(which, with a glance at the bedside clock, was close to the
truth).

Tor had a different reaction.

He threw back the covers and growled, “By
the gods, what the bloody hell now?”

With sleepy fascination, I watched him pull
up a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms then, still with sleepy
fascination, I watched him prowl toward the door then I suddenly
was not sleepy or fascinated anymore because I instantly freaked
out, threw the covers back, jumped out of bed and snapped, “Tor!
Where are you going?”

He stopped and turned his head to me and I
started searching for my nightgown and panties, found them on the
floor and tugged the panties on in a flurry of motion, my head
tilted back to look at Tor when he spoke.

“I’m getting the bloody door.”

I pulled down my nightgown only to see he’d
resumed prowling and was out the bedroom door.

I raced after him, hissing, “You can’t! What
if it’s Noc?”

Tor stopped at the door, lifted a big hand
and pointed a long finger at my peephole.

“You have a tiny porthole,” he replied in a
low voice, his blue eyes on me.