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His snickering growing to full blown, laughter, I swear he slapped his leg as he chortled, “You were listening. My Mate, the one and only Violet Brown, actually heard something I said. Mark this day on the calendar.”
(Okay, so he had a point. Like I said before, I do tend to talk first and survey the situation later – but again, I reiterate – It. Is My. Superpower. So, you won’t be surprised to hear that at this point it was a battle of wills and I refused to give in. That man, my man,wouldlisten to me. I would honey and sweetie and pour on so much sugar Mick got a cavity in one of those big ole fangs of his Dragon’s, and hewouldhear me. I would heal him with Doc Bombay’s Spell and that was all there was to it. I am Witch. Hear me roar.)
"Un-huh, whatever. Like I was saying, you think that Esau, the Dragon King with whom you share your soul, a real powerhouse and spectacularly awesome Winged Warrior in his own right who I adore so very much and would be lost without aside from you of course, can handle anything and everything, but that's just not so."
“Yes, it is.”
“No,honey,” I stressed, trying really hard not to turn back into the crazy, nutball Witch from just a few seconds before because then Mick would completely stop listening and everything I'd said up to that point would have been for naught. "Dr. Bernardo Beltane Bombay, MD, Ph.D., PsyD, D.O., D.C and a whole host of other acronyms that we just don't have time for me to list but I will be sure to remind you of when we're safe at home, is certified for the treatment of any and all creatures great and small, winged and not-winged, human-looking and not human-looking, Magical and powerful, upside-down and …"
“Violet,” my man grumbled, his voice so low that it made my inner Witch bat her eyes and purr while my body got all hot and tingly and I almost –almost– lost my train of thought.
(By now you know me pretty well. So, you won’t be surprised to hear that I was determined to make my point. Not even my libido was going to distract me. Yeah, I can be a real dipshit sometimes, but I am who I am.)
"Can you just…"
“Hang on, Hun,” I nodded and held up the index finger of my right hand even though I was pretty sure he couldn’t see it. “I’m almost done. I just need to make this point…”
"Yes, Violet, my love, I amwell awarethat you need to make your point. It is just one of the many, many things I love about you," Mick continued to growl. "But, right now, you have to…"
"…finish what I was saying. You are so right. Thank you, Honey. That's just the sweetest thing. Anyway, the Doc can fix anything, and he gave me this spell for just such an occasion because my job – my Calling, as it were – is to hang out on Cloud Nine in the Valentine Nebula on the other side of Everything in the Kingdom of Love and be the Magic that keeps Cupid in business. It's a really long trip, too long for the Doc to make except for the most serious of emergencies - even with his loads and loads of immense and powerful Magic. Isn't it wonderful that the most amazing Doctor in the history of Magical Mystical Medicine made sure I could take care of myself, as well as all the other Supes of Love in the Happiest Place in the Galaxy?"
“Yes, Sweetheart,” Mick huffed, his voice at least an octave lower than usual and the scent of burning mesquite tickling my nose.
(Yep, you guessed it. That was a sure sign he was getting really close to goin' all scaly. Usually, it was a serious turn-on for me. I love the bright glittering bronze of Esau's scales, the Power and Magic that just rolls off of them both, and the way his voice rumbles in the deepest of baritones. However, on this occasion, I was too preoccupied to care. Again, I must say, I can be a real dipshit sometimes.)
“I know exactly where you’ve been and how long you’ve been there. And I am well aware of how far away it is. I am, after all, the one who came…"
I tried to zip my lips and listen. Really, I did. I mean, it was the least I owed my hunka-hunka-burning love after he'd defied Fate and Aphrodite's wishes to come to Cloud Nine to see me. It was the best surprise of my whole damned life, especially since I thought he was dead, or gone, or dead and gone. More on that in just a bit.
Best of all, my Mick helped me to prepare and pull off the greatest day of the whole danged year – the one and only Valentine’s Day - and we got to celebrate said holiday in our own very special,very personalway. Oh, and just to be clear, it had nothing to do with Mick's grumbling that sounded more like growling with every passing second or the wonderful aroma filling my senses telling me Esau was about to make an abrupt appearance that had me reminiscing about beingwithmy Dragon.
(Like, I said, I love me some Esau. He is the best. But…)
Seriously, Iwantedto listen. Mick was my one true Fated Mate. He was the rice to my crispy, the bee to my hive, and the red sparkles on my jumbo box of chocolates. He made my heart go pitter-pat, my brain turn to mush, and visions of happily ever after dance merrily in my brain.
Ineededto pay attention. IknewI did. There was something in the tone of his voice, or grumble, or growl - depending on what side of the conversation you stood – that made the Witch in the back of my brain scream,“SHUT UP, VI! Something wicked this way comes! Turn off your mouth and switch on those innate and renowned problem-solving skills. Make with the hocus pocus. You’re a Brown Witch for Goddess’ sake! Get the lights on and Magick our happy heinies back the way we came. Witch, please! Get your shit together and get it done before we become Spiorpion Chow. HURRY UP!"
Unfortunately, my mouth was on a roll that overrode my brain. My Superpower was working overtime to cover for the fact that I couldn't figure out what had been touching my butt and that in and of itself made not one damned bit of sense. ‘Cause, if I'm honest, which I always am, and sometimes that's not such a good thing but it is what it is, I wasob-sess-ingover what I could havepossiblymistaken for Mick’s hand.
It just made no sense. My Mate was abig guywithbig hands. I mean six-foot-six, broad shoulders, beautifully muscled chest, nice ass –everythingon him was miraculously perfect and extra large in the best possible way. Michael Alexander Archer, aka Mick, as you might remember from just a few minutes ago, was sex on a stick and he was all mine.
Including the hand thatwasn’ttouching my butt…
Looking into his beautiful brown eyes after so many years had been a dream come true. Running my fingers through his dark curly hair was nothing short of Heaven. Having his hands all over me was utter bliss and that's coming from the Brown Witch who is the one and only Keeper of the Spark of Love, Second-In-Command of Cloud Nine, and Cupid's Right-Hand Witch with a capital W. If anyone knew bliss – it was me. It was myThing.I zapped the golden arrows withAmorefor the God of Love and his army of Cherubs to spread tenderness, adoration, and good old-fashioned L-O-V-E all over the world on the best day of the whole damned year – Valentine’s Day.
Being with my Dragon was all I'd ever wanted for as long as I could remember, but none of that helped with the fact that something really big and warm and ‘hand-like’ had been on my ass. It freaked me out in ways a Brown Witch – specifically me - should never ever never get freaked out. It made goosebumps dance the hokey pokey up and down my arms and the little hairs on the nape of my neck stand at attention as ifReveillewas playing. It was disconcerting in the worst of ways, and I didn’t like it – not one little bit.
So…
I just kept talking. Saying way more words than absolutely necessary at a speed rivaling something just short of breaking the sound barrier.
“And while we’re on the subject, it’s important to remember that calling Dr. Bombay a Witch Doctor – something you have done on numerous occasions - is a very sore subject. The slightest mention of that rather derogatory moniker dredges up very bad memories for good old Bernie. I think I told you. Didn’t I tell you? Maybe it was Molly, or Ella, or… Oh, hell, here, just let me tell you again really quickly to be sure all our I's are dotted and our T's crossed."
“You told me. Molly told me. Ella told me.Everybodytold me. Please, Vi, you need to…”
And still my lips flapped…
"Poor, poor Dr. Bombay spent a very cruel summer on an unnamed island somewhere on the other side of the world hanging from his thumbs, with his toes dangling over an active volcano, while naked native women with rather perky breasts fed him mangoes until the yummy yellow fruit pretty much ran right out of his ears. I've never had the nerve to ask him what a detail like 'perky breasts' has to do with the story or how much mango you have to eat before it comes out your ears, but I suggest you don't inquire either, Mick, honey. You've already…"
