Out of breath, cheeks glowing ruddy pink, Alex slipped her arms beneath the Bard’s jacket
to place cold hands on a warm back. Teague shivered holding her close to his chest sharing
the heat of his skin. “Ok, where do you want to eat…?”
“Hey guys, would you like to join us, we’ve hired the Indian restaurant just over the road
for a private party, you’re more than welcome…” A booming voice offered a possibly long
night of partying. Lifting her face to peer into lilac depths, Alex let the Bard make the
decision. Planting a kiss on her nose, a gentle male turned to face a smiling group of eager
faces.
“Thank you for the offer…” Resting his chin on a wet head, Teague turned a huge corner,
in what had once been a sadly desolate life.
“We would be happy to join to you, if it is not an inconvenience.” A shy smile tugged at
firm lips as Aingeal hugged him.
Sitting side by side at an extended table, damp coats draped over the backs of every
chair, the hirsute individual who had extended an invitation to strangers held out a
beefy hand to the Bard. The Sidhe seldom touched each other in greeting, bows and
gestures of deference were less tactile, but infinitely graceful.
“My name’s Tom, Tom Gawthorpe, and this is my wife Andrea…” A pretty blonde with
sparkling blue eyes nodded over the top of a menu card.
Taking the proffered hand, an ambassador warrior of a Sidhe nation returned the
compliment. “I am Teague Highfell…” Dropping his eyes to a sweetly smiling imp with
an angel’s face, he had no any inkling how to explain their relationship in terms their
new friends would understand.
“I’m his partner, Alex…” Wrapping her fingers over a muscled thigh she squeezed
tight, this could prove to be a minefield. “Thank you for inviting us to join you.”
“No problem… Anyone who can sing like your man would be welcome anywhere.”
A gracious rejoinder shocked the Bard, he never expected humans to be so courteous.
“Forgive me for being incredibly nosy, but you’re not from round here, your accent
is difficult to place. I’m a language student, curiosity comes with the territory.”
Alex paled, her fingers playing a tattoo on her lovers leg. Taking the menu in both
hands Teague laughed, a lovely breezy sound that didn’t help to calm her nerves.
“I arrived with Dr Frank N Furter…” A hearty laugh followed a ready response.
“Nice one…” Tom proceeded to bury his nose in the menu card, still chuckling at
a clever rebuttal that didn’t give offence.
Alex helped a bewildered male unable to cope with a choice of dishes, settling for a
mixed starter, followed by butter chicken. Heaven on a plate…
She managed to sneakily slip a wad of money into his hand, reinforcing a picture of
human male if he paid the bill. A fallacy, but it might make him feel better.
Conversations wafted over their heads in bearable decibel levels as a delicious meal
was devoured by a hungry mob. Dancing and singing gave everyone a huge appetite.
Neither she nor Teague needed any help in that department. Tom and the Bard got
into a serious discussion about music in all its forms, likes, dislikes, finding that they
both had an affinity for Celtic airs.
Andrea turned out to be extremely shy, and a full time mum. Alex regaled her with
with the antics of her work colleagues, steering clear of any mention of her mate’s
unknown and widely published origins. The human populace were aware of the Fae
races in their midst, but she wasn’t about to advertise the fact that a lethal Enforcer
of the Sidhe Queen, was debating the origins of the bodhran drum with a wily and
loudly vocal language student. All in all, it turned out to be a pleasant evening spent
in the company of doctors, students, builders, retailers, a mixed bag of the human
sphere. The Bard seemed to fit right in.
Sitting back in his chair rubbing at a generous belly, Tom took a swig of beer. Alex
could see another question looming on the horizon. Wiping at his lips with the back
of one hand, the big man shuffled in his seat. Here we go… Clenching her fists into
tight balls, long fingernails dug into the tender skin of both palms.
answer in hushed stillness. The Bard reached out to stroke her cheek with the less
elegant fingers of a cloak of glamour, before replying to what could be deemed as
an impertinent interrogation.
“I once was, before an accident damaged the vocal chords.” A husky revelation of
injury carried over the room, to a muted chorus of distressed oh’s and ahh’s.
Alex thought it was a very diplomatic and delicate explanation of having his tongue
removed in screaming agony by a sadistic bitch.
“Still, you have a fantastic voice.” Tom saluted the Bard with a second pint of beer.
“Would it be too much to ask for you to sing for us…?” Loud cries of yes please, go
for it, bring it on Riff-Raff, bounced off the walls.
Violet shaded eyes falling to rest on Aingeal’s face, a delicious smile curved firm lips.
“What would you have me sing my love…?” Alex had barely moved her lips to speak,
when a barrage of suggestions flew over her head.
Sam Smith, Ed Sheeran, Beyonce, Clean Bandit… The list went on and on, an eclectic
mix of styles and tastes. Dolly Parton… A high pitched voice squeaked from the far
corner of the restaurant. “Shut up Frank…” A derisive voice silenced a divergent
music lover, in a world brimming with techno music and thumping bass.
“Aingeal…?” Teague voiced the question over heated arguments concerning the
merits of Nashville against mainstream modern songs. A complete whinge fest by
mister Frank I know best, the frustrated country singer. Hands clasped lightly on
the table favouring bruised palms, she really didn’t care. For him to sing at all was
a momentous stride forward in assimilation into a foreign realm.
“I’m happy just to listen to your voice, whatever you decide to sing…” A soft mouth
grazed her cheek, as a warm breath whispered ‘Thank you’ in her ear.
“Quiet you lot, Mister Highfell has agreed to sing for us, show some respect.” Tom was
the leader of the pack, an alpha male, and it showed in abundance.
Teague could have sung laid flat on his back, or doing a handstand. He chose to perch
on the windowsill behind his mate, one hand caressing her shoulder. In this way, his
Aingeal could envision him singing, not the male in human skin.
The restaurant was treated to a medley of chart hits, including Pharelle Williams, Happy
and Ellie Goulding’s, Burn. The unaccompanied session rounded off by an emotional
rendition of The Glen of Imaal, Alex’s favourite air. Wild hand clapping, and some serious
foot stamping applauded a masterful performance. There were even some sign of tears
in evidence.
“I am sorry Frank. I do not know any Dolly Parton songs.” Teague offered a sincere
apology to a geeky guy, tucked between two heavily built ‘ladies’. Not everyone had
changed into normal clothes.
The party broke up in laughter, Alex and Andrea swapped email addresses. The Bard
suffered brutal back slapping, handshakes, and quite a few
kisses on the cheek by both
sexes. Alex got the same, with less enthusiasm.
“We’re all staying at the Premiere Inn. This rowdy lot could party all night…” Shrugging
on a heavy fleece jacket, Tom raised bushy eyebrows in their direction.
“Sorry, I have to work tomorrow, but thanks all the same…” It was the truth, and she
felt they had pushed Teague’s luck far enough for one night.
“How do you plan on getting home? The roads are grid-locked…” It was real concern,
not a blatant invasion of privacy.
“My place is within walking distance, we’ll be fine.” Like just above our heads. A weary
female finished silently. She wasn’t prepared to disclose the proximity of her flat, to a
boisterous gaggle of really nice people, including Frank the Geek.
“It’s been a good night… Thanks for entertaining us Teague. I hope we have a chance to
get together again.” Slipping on his parka, the Bard came close to bowing to the hairy
male. He found he liked this human named Tom. A big muscled male brought to mind a
vision of the Lord Turi, they both enjoyed the title of Big Bear.
“It was my pleasure…” He did bow. Respect had been earned, therefore returned.
The manager of the restaurant sidled up to Teague as the cult followers of a lunatic film
departed in a blast of noise. A tall, immaculately suited gentleman handed over a slim
business card to the Bard.
“If you feel inclined to sing for us again Sir, we are more than willing to accommodate
you, and discuss recompense…” He drifted off in a waft of Armani aftershave to direct
the clean-up operation.
Alex giggled, dragging a bemused Teague out the door into a winter wonderland. Hoods
up, heads bent against an icy wind, the few short steps to the door of the apartments was
accomplished in less than two minutes with no falls or bruises. Inside with the door
firmly closed an imp bent over, convulsed with laughter she gripped at her ribs.
“Welcome to the human world, Mister Teague of the High Fell. You’ve just made a
parcel of friends for life, well their lives. And, to top it off, you got a job offer.”
Hiccupping on a last gurgle, she fell into his side to wrap both arms around a hunky
body. “You are wonderful…”
Wasting no time, Teague transported them to Aingeal’s living room in a shimmer of
blue and white. “Is that what the small piece of card means…?”
Bewilderment did a full one eighty, replaced by a jubilant grin on coarsened features.
Leaving him to dwell on a successful foray into a distasteful world Alex made sure her
uniform sat hanging ready for the morning, before disappearing into the bathroom to
prepare for a very welcome bed. Emotional exhaustion is far more debilitating than
physical, she’d been living on her nerves from the very first step onto an icy path.
A few minutes later, the real Lord Teague slipped into the small space dressed in softly
moulding leathers and waist length silver braid to sit on the lip of the bath at her side.
One long finger ran over the pearl grey silk of a knee length, form fitting chemise.
Slim straps revealed peach tinted skin, not a lot, but enough to elicit a low growl from
a wide throat. “What means this…?” He much preferred to see all her luscious curves.
Hands and face washed clean of scant make-up Alex picked up a toothbrush, handing
its partner to her mate.
“It’s a nightdress. I plan on going to bed, to sleep…” The Bard considered an offending
article of concealment for a couple of heartbeats, as Aingeal brushed vigorously at her
teeth. “Do I have to wear one too? Or, if necessary, I could squeeze into some of your
undergarments…”
An enquiry delivered in Tim Curry’s fruity accents, caused her to choke on a mouthful
of frothy toothpaste at a satirical suggestion. Well she hoped it was satirical. He had
definitely channelled Dr Frank N Furter. Rinsing off, Alex took a swipe at a grinning
face, missing by inches. Sidhe reflexes were stunningly fast, too quick for her to land
a stinging slap.
“Brush your teeth. Wear what you want, except the red playsuit. I’m saving that for a
special man…” Whirling on bare toes, sniffing at the insensitivity of a lusting male
when she was bone weary, the Lady Alex High Fell took herself off to bed.
A very relaxed female sat on the very edge of sleep tucked into the side of a long body,
at that moment when limbs felt soggy and the mind misfires. Alex found herself on an
ice floe in the middle of an ocean, fishing with a big shaggy bear, one who had managed
to snag a monster motorcycle… Brain fart or what…? Snuggling deeper into soft smooth
skin, eyelids heavy, a husky voice broke the connection with a hairy angler.
The first line of the Time Warp rasped over her head. Lifting an arm that weighed a ton,
a blissfully comfortable angel slapped at a muscled chest out of sheer frustration.
“Ouch Aingeal, I was but just lightening a darker moment…” A husky chuckle oozed all
innocent charm.
“I was asleep…” She murmured into his shoulder lips touching cinnamon skin, the
unmistakable perfume of Teague’s arousal. “Sod it…” A groan resonated through her
body, the Bard was in a playful mood.
“You don’t need to sleep…” A warm hand came to rest on her hip. “Yes I do…”
“No you don’t…” Searching fingers slipped beneath the hem of her nightdress.
“Give it a rest Mister Highfell. You may not have to work tomorrow, but I do.” She was
wide awake, struggling to find the happy little cloud of restful sleep.
The second line of an idiotic song teased at her reluctance to be one with a clearly amorous
mate. Reaching up Alex pulled his face to hers, admitting defeat at a ploy to get her undressed.
“Be quiet, or I’ll trade you in for Riff-Raff…” Blessed quiet came with her lips locked onto a
firm mouth.
A besotted and amazingly refreshed female came awake in an empty bed to the insistent
ringing of the alarm clock. Rolling off the edge of the mattress Alex dropped her hand on the
clock, to still an annoying noise. She’d woken up in a good mood.
Surprise, surprise… The Time Warp and a persistent male, were the cure all for working day
blues. Showered, dressed in dark blue uniform of stretchy knit top and straight leg pants, a
hungry body followed the smell of food.
The aroma of toast made her mouth water and an empty stomach gurgle with anticipation.
Ok, so she’d eaten enough to satisfy a cart horse last night, but that was hours ago.
Teague sat at the breakfast bar back to the sink, facing the Television, remote glued to
his hand. Muting the sound on a music channel, he rose to offer his mate the form and
deference of a loved one.
“I am in your debt Aingeal, far more than I can ever repay…” Bowing deeply, a shy smile
on a gorgeous face, the Bard served her breakfast. The toast was a bit cremated around
the crust, but good enough. A dish of chopped fresh fruit and a tall glass of ice tea lay
ready and waiting for her to take a seat.
“The least I could do, is offer thee a repast after a strenuous night…” Perching on a stool
across from a happily relaxed male, Alex raised both eyebrows at an attempt to prepare
breakfast. He was finding his way aroun
d a kitchen slowly, although a camp fire would
always be the Tiger’s first choice of dressing and cooking a meal.
“You don’t owe me a thing… I enjoyed every minute of last night.” A wicked smirk
disappeared around a bite of succulent strawberry. The first line of the Time Warp brushed
her ears. A warrior of the Sidhe moved lithely in a restricted version of the Time warp, trapped
between breakfast bar and sink.
“You are barking…” Waving a loaded spoon in the air Alex shook her head, setting a glossy
pony tail swinging.
“Sorry…?” Dropping onto a stool Teague propped both elbows on the granite countertop, chin
resting on his hands. “Barking, barking mad, looney, crazy, absolutely bonkers…”
She chirped a string of insults merrily, all the while absorbed in the misty swirls of white
in lilac irises.
“You say the nicest things Aingeal…” Leaning forward, a replete male invaded his mate’s
personal space, fiendish reprisal on stunning features.
“I know. I’m special that way…” Selecting a piece of Gallia melon Teague nipped it from
the dish, offering it to a beautiful female in a token gesture of feeding his lover.
“Aye, you are special.” Adoring eyes latched onto generous lips, watching closely as a
trickle of juice escaped to run down her chin. Lifting a tissue to wipe her face, Alex was
forestalled by long fingers catching her wrist and wrapping round her jawline in a gentle
grip. Hunger on his face, Teague bent his head to lick at peach hued skin in a long trail,
to move from the point of a determined chin to travel seductively over parted lips.
Eyes closed Alex tasted spicy hints of Christmas added to sweet melon.
“Mmmm…” She purred huskily with a full body shudder.
“What was that…?” A raspy whisper coated her lips with cinnamon balm.
“Orgasm…” A moment of complete silence preceded a delicious laugh reverberating on
her lips. “Am I so good…?” Another stroke of a hot tongue tied her stomach in knots.
“Oh yes…” A wispy breath trembled between them. “Much better than Riff-Raff…”
Taking a bite at a full bottom lip Teague’s shoulders shook with mirth. “Witch…”