The climax slowly ebbed, but her breathing remained ragged. She sat up and glanced around the room, almost certain she’d find her mystery lover lounging in the chair in the corner or stoking the fire in all his naked glory. As though he were real.
But, no. Jade was alone in her cottage in the north woods. As always.
Or was she?
A sharp grunt from outside drew her attention. Untangling herself from the covers that she’d mangled in her restless sleep, she shoved her feet into her worn slippers and raced to the double doors in her bedroom that led to a covered patio overlooking the river. She threw open one door and stepped out onto the cobblestones, lightly sprinkled with snow that had blown in from the sides.
Jade gripped a stone column. Her body shivered from not only her fantasy and the orgasm that had transcended it, but also because she knew someone had been close to her house while she’d slept. Her eyes scoured the area with the help of the glittery rays from a near-full moon that hung in the now-cloudless sky. The snow had stopped falling, but the storm had left behind a good two feet of powder, as she’d suspected it would earlier.
There. Her gaze locked on a patch of snow. Across the river and to the west, she saw the indentation of horse hooves. The tracks led from the northern edge of the narrow river—the opposite bank from hers—into the wide, thick stretch of forest that lined the base of the ridge where the Demon King’s castle stood.
An icy breeze blew across the land, ruffling her hair and billowing the skirt of her nightgown. And carried with it the neigh of a horse.
Chapter Three
Around nine a.m., a very disturbed Jade headed toward the village library, carefully carrying two mugs of piping hot coffee from the shop on the corner. Extra large, since she’d gotten little sleep after her intense dream and the discovery of the tracks outside her house. Even the release from her orgasms hadn’t calmed her enough to help her relax.
She pushed the unlatched door open with her shoulder and entered the small building.
Lisette Bordeaux sat at a desk made of pine and glanced up from the book she’d been reading. ”You’re early.”
“I was tired of pacing the cottage. I nearly wore the floorboards out.” She set the cups on the desk and slipped out of her jacket.
Lisette asked, “What are you so pensive about? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Not seen,” Jade deadpanned as she sank into the comfy chair across from her friend. “Followed by.”
Lisette’s homely face fell. “A wraith? One of the king’s?”
“Do you know of any others that would haunt our woods?”
“Oh dear,” the older woman said as she patted her gray bun and then placed her hand over her fleshy neck, as though in distress.
Lisette was pushing seventy but was still agile and quite healthy. She’d been in her mid-thirties when the demon wars had erupted and she’d regaled Jade on numerous occasions with stories of pre-war life.
Aside from the technology that sounded too good to be true, there had been automobiles and airplanes. Movie theaters, concert halls, casinos, resorts, restaurants, cruise ships—all of which she’d discussed and described in great detail.
Most of all, there’d been freedom. Something Lisette had lost more so than anyone else in the village, including the other elders who’d lived in the time of the mortals’ reign.
With the Demon King restricting her reading materials and legally binding her use of magical powers, Lisette was nothing more than a caretaker of historical books and the narrator of a world it seemed impossible to rebuild.
What Jade found most interesting about Lisette’s wealth of information was that very few people in the village took advantage of the ideas and innovations of which she spoke or those contained within the pages of the resource volumes on the shelves. As though no one wanted to remember, or believe in, the way humans had lived not more than thirty-five years ago.
Had this been a bookstore, Lisette would have surely been out of business her first week.
“Tell me why you would be followed,” she demanded, her shrewd, light-brown eyes narrowing on Jade. “Have you done anything wrong?”
“Of course not,” Jade replied, indignant. “I do what everyone else does. I get up in the morning, I do some chores, wash myself and my clothes, eat a meal or two and then go to work. I come home, I go to sleep and repeat the process the next day. On my day off, I read books. Pretty simple stuff.”
Naturally, she refrained from adding fantasizing to her agenda. She didn’t want to think of the dream she’d had last night. It had been too real, too potent. The emotional and physical pull had been too strong not to give in to it. One of the reasons she’d lost so much sleep the previous evening.
“Have you said anything?” Lisette leaned toward her, eyeing her curiously.
“What could I possibly have to say that hasn’t already been said by someone in this village?” She threw her hands up in the air. “Let’s face it, there’s very little left to talk about, except to debate how best to grow vegetables and herbs inside during the winter months.”
They canned and pickled the majority of necessities. Meat had been scarce, she’d heard, in the early years, but had become more abundant with the return of wildlife.
“Hmm.” Lisette shifted in her chair, settling more comfortably before reaching for her coffee. She took a sip, then said, “How many demons had you crossed paths with before you realized you were being followed?”