Falk Clan Tales - Chapter 60: Chapter 60

Despite working in a bookstore, Jozette was a realist. Her parents hadn’t tolerated any fantasy in her childhood at all unless it was to dissect the old tales down to their true horror roots.
She never played with princesses or read books about fairies and elves. She did have a killer set of Legos and a subscription to National Geographic though. Those were fun at least.
Was her childhood terrible? Not really. But it wasn’t the same as her peers,
Marissa included. Her BFF had worshipped every fairytale remake ever made by certain mouse owned and operated conglomerate. Jozette had sometimes snuck along to see the flicks, but she never really understood them. Even the later, more feminist version seemed off.
Did princes really love the nerdy girls, or the outcasts? She doubted it.
Either way, she could at the very least wake up her strange guest with some hot tea. And pants. She should really grab the guy some warm pants.
Turning the electric kettle on, she grabbed a couple of mugs and bags of English breakfast tea, then turned toward the small laundry room that sat right off the kitchen.
Jozette found a clean pair of sweats and a tee shirt from the pile, figuring he would just have to make do. On second thought, she also grabbed some socks. Jozette hated cold feet and imagined anyone would appreciate a pair of warm and fuzzies after being stuck in the cold.
She loaded a tray with some biscotti Marissa had made, and the two large mugs of tea. Adding a small jar of creamer, honey, and sugar to the lot, she also grabbed a few napkins. Jozette tucked the clothes under one arm, then lifted the tray in her hands.
He was tossing and turning restlessly until she entered, then he seemed to still. As if having her near to him somehow gave him peace.
Now you’re being fanciful, she mused.
The quilted blanket she’d covered him in last night rode low on his waist and she meant to avert her gaze, truly she did. But it wasn’t every day Jozette had almost seven feet, she did a quick calculation and corrected herself from the night before, of naked man lying in her parents’ living room. And what a man he was. He could’ve been sculpted from marble.
His shoulders were impossibly wide, and his arms roped with muscle, though, in truth, he was a tad thin. His chest tapered into a narrow waist, with slim hips and long, powerful legs. The ripples of muscle across his abs had her mouth watering, and she cleared her throat in an effort not to drool.
Thick black curls brushed against his forehead, and Jozette exhaled as she imagined running her fingers through them. Would his luscious locks be soft as they were glossy, or would it feel dry and coarse like some curly hair felt? Would he moan and lean into her touch, crave it the way she craved touching him?
Eeeek!
Her cheeks heated, and she squeezed her legs together to ease the sudden throb, feeling her blush intensify at the moisture she felt there.
OMFG!
This was bad. Like really bad. Like welcome to super-slutdom bad. Jozi should be ashamed of herself, ogling the poor man when he was hurt or lost. What was she thinking?
She might not know what she was thinking, but she knew what she was thinking with. Certain pink bits that had been ignored for much longer than the last few months it had been since she’d moved out of her ex’s place.
When was the last time she’d had sex, anyway?
“Stop it,” she growled to herself.
“This is ridiculous,” Jozi muttered, and stood up.
Her phone buzzed, but she ignored it. Whoever was calling to sell her solar panels could wait, for Pete’s sake. She leaned over with one of the spoons from the tray and did the only thing she could think of. She jabbed him. Right on his chest.
Of course, Jozette wasn’t expecting him to wake up wild eyed with the strength of a water buffalo. The seemingly sweet stranger had her flat on her back on the rug and was looming over her before she could even blink, an inhuman growl sounding from his lips.
“Grrrrr!”
“OH MY GAWD!!” Jozette squealed, as the naked stranger pinned her to the area rug beside the couch.
“Milady, ‘tis you,” he muttered before his eyes smoldered with undeniable heat, then proceeded to roll back inside his skull and he slumped on top of her.
“Are you serious?” Jozette mumbled beneath his enormous body.
She’d always been a big girl. A solid one hundred seventy-seven pounds since high school. Along with her not very tall, five foot six-ish frame, she had always thought of herself as sturdy.
But this guy weighed a ton. And he was cutting off her oxygen supply. What’s more, his skin was on fire. Shit. Did that mean he had a fever?
Using all her strength, which she got from lifting book after book at her day job, thank you very much, Jozi finally managed to slide out from under him. Chest heaving, she stilled a moment, trying to catch her breath before sitting all the way up.
Of course, once she did that, she saw the blanket had slipped, and the guy was rocking some serious glutes. Great. Now she had the image of his perfect backside burned into her brain.
Was nothing ugly about this man?
Looking back, she realized he was not trying to hurt her. In fact, the second his blue eyes had focused, he seemed shocked, then docile as a kitten.
“Milady, ‘tis you,” he’d said.
Like some knight in tales of old. And he spoke as if he knew her or something. Looking at him, she had the strangest feeling she did too.
Crazy? yes. She would have remembered meeting a man with his incredible looks, but she decided to trust herself. Next time, instead of using a spoon to poke him, Jozette went with her instincts.
She tossed the discarded afghan over his hips, doing her best not to check out his ass again. Then she brushed her own hair behind her ears with her fingers and knelt beside him. Her phone buzzed once more, but she ignored the stupid thing. No one of consequence would be calling her at this hour.
Her hands trembled, but she ignored that, chalking it up to real fear, which was pretty understandable considering what happened last time she tried this.
“Mister? Hey, Mister, you have to wake up,” she whispered, pushing his hair back from his forehead.
Damn. He was even more beautiful this close. The dark circles under his eyes seemed to lessen with each passing minute. For some reason, Jozette smiled as she continued to touch his hair.
“Who are you?”
She wondered aloud, giving his face a soft caress. He had chiseled features and thick, lush lips. His eyelashes were impossibly dark, but she didn’t believe for a second the man sported guyliner or any other cosmetic. His was a natural beauty, and Jozette was certainly old enough to appreciate it.
Once he began to stir, she backed away, not getting very far as his hand snaked out and wrapped around her wrist. He wasn’t hurting her. Not by a mile. In fact, that small touch sent flickers of awareness racing through her.
This was insane! She should not be feeling this way. Okay, so maybe she browsed the romance section of Crescent Moon Books now and then. And yes, she might have stopped and read a few pages from Claimed by the Demon and Bearly Breathing, but for Pete’s sake, things like that didn’t happen in real life!
“Wait. Please. Do not leave me, milady,” he said.
His voice was husky and thick like gravel as he slowly came awake. Beautiful blue eyes blinked up at her, and Jozi found herself captivated by them. She’d never seen eyes like that.
So blue they were like ink. Twin pools of deep indigo. They widened, suddenly rimmed in reddish flames, but when she blinked, it was gone.
A figment of her imagination? Perhaps. But she doubted it.
"Forgive me, lady fair. Is your husband home?”
“My husband?”
“Yes. Pray tell which of my brothers is lucky to call you mate, milady?”
“What? I don’t have a⁠—”
“I have come from very far to speak to my kin, fair lady. Please, do not deny me, I beg you.”
“I wouldn’t deny you,” she replied softly, swallowing the lump that rose in her throat.
It was like he was stuck in some sort of time warp, she thought. His words, while clear, were old fashioned and out of place. Sexy, but not modern.
Like Jozette had stepped into some time travel fantasy romance. Maccon City’s own little version of Outlander, she mused near to hysterics.
His hand moved from her wrist up her arm to her elbow, and she could see fascination and something else flare to life in his inky blue depths.
“Lady, you are beautiful,” he murmured.
“Who are you?” she asked again.
“I am Castor Falk, and I know I am low to beg such a thing, but a kiss, milady, please?”
“What?”
“’Tis bold and foolish. I know this and I cannot help myself. I have never longed for anything like I yearn for your lips,” he whispered, and to her surprise, she found herself leaning down.
Close, so close to meeting his mouth with hers, Jozette could not believe it. A mere hair’s breadth away from total slutdom. But how often did chances like this really emerge, she wondered?
“Okay,” she said, or maybe it was more like she breathed the word and swore she saw his eyes flare in the morning light streaming in through the curtains.
But before their lips could meet, the front door slammed open with a loud thud. The lock flew apart, busting under the force of some hard blow or other. Jozette almost screamed, but then she saw who was there and frowned hard.
It was Marissa, with Hector close behind her. Her bestie looked frenzied and angry, and fuck, were those fangs? Jozette blinked and jumped up, but Mr. Tall Dark and Naked was faster on his feet. He leapt in front of her, crouching low and growling menacingly.
“Get the fuck away from my friend,” snarled Marissa.
“’Tis you must back away, she-Cat!” The stranger sneered.
“What are you? A lizard?” Marissa asked, head cocked.
“Lizard? I am a Dragon, she-beast, and I will end you before you touch a single hair on my fair one’s head!”
Hector snarled then, clothes tearing from his body as he turned into something big and golden. Fuck. Was that fur?
The stranger growled. A warning, perhaps? And a stream of smoke escaped his lips. His eyes glowed, and Marissa crouched threateningly.
What the actual fuck was going on?
“Time out! Time out,” Jozette shook her head and stepped between the three, whatever the fuck they were. In truth, she didn’t know what to call them.
“Jozi! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Mar, but what the fuck is with your teeth? And nails? And is Hector a Lion?”
“Jozi, I can explain⁠—”
“Milady, please, I only wish to protect yo⁠—”
“You know what, never mind,” she said, and turned, gesturing to the naked man.
“Milady?”
“Do you mind⁠—”
That was all she got out before she fainted dead away. With any luck, he caught her before she hit the ground.
Fuck me.