Untamed (27 page)

Chapter Three

The place was dark. Colton looked back as he unlocked the door. Yes, that was definitely Mirriam’s car parked on the curb. “Mama?” he called out as he let himself in. He’d called Mirriam Tosta Mama since he was a kid, and truth be told he’d spent as much time with her in his life as he had with his own mother.

He’d visited her every time he was on leave and when he retired from the military and resettled in North Carolina, she and her son Anthony had been like family to him with his scattered out across the country.

“Colton?” a soft feminine voice came from the dark.

“Yeah, it’s me, Mama. What’re you doing sitting here in the dark? I thought this was your night out with the girls.”

“We had a change in plans,” she replied.

A bright flare of light accompanied her words. She guided the long-stemmed match to an amber glass candleholder and lit the white candle inside. One whiff of air and the match was extinguished, leaving a halo of dim, warm light around her in the darkness.

“Come on over and sit down here.” She patted the cushion of the old fashioned divan.

Colton crossed the room and flopped down beside her, stretching his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankles.

“What brings you here?”

“Just checking up on you.”

“Hmmm, of course.”

“And… Well, I wanted to ask about the crystal.”

“What about it, dear?”

“Where did it come from?”

“From another place and time. Its origins are shrouded in mystery. The crystal is mated, male to female. When paired their power is doubled.”

She sounded as if she was dodging his question. “Sounds like a fairy tale to me and you know I don’t much buy into that. And you never said how you came to have it. Or where its supposed mate is. You don’t really believe that it has power, do you?”

“Have I ever lied to you about what I believe?”

“No, not that I know of.”

“Then why would I lie about this. Colton, why the sudden interest in the crystal?”

Colton considered how much to reveal. Mirriam was not a frivolous woman, given to flights of fancy. Her beliefs did not always mesh with the norm, but he’d learned at an early age that she was rarely wrong.

“I felt something. From it. A… I don’t know what you’d call it. An energy.”

“Consider it a beacon,” she replied. “Like the lighthouse that sheds its brilliant light to the sea to safely guide the traveler home, this will lead you to that which you seek. You have only to open your heart, Colton, and allow love to enter.”

“Mama, I’ve been disappointed so many times I don’t know if my heart even knows how to love.”

“Shhh.” She put one long-nailed finger to his lips. “A heart never forgets, Colton. You just have to believe.”

“If you say so.” He lifted the crystal and let it fall back to his chest. There was no shock at the contact this time. He shrugged it away. He wouldn’t try and sway her from what she believed. God knew that this past couple of years he’d had more than enough strangeness in his family to make him question his own bead on reality.

First his brother Clint married his childhood sweetheart Lily after being reunited by, of all things, a pile-up on a county road in Florida. Lily, the sweetheart, turned out to be what, for lack of a better term he guessed must be a fire-starter. She could create and control fire.

Then this past year, his youngest brother Cam had fallen in love and married a woman, Ellie, who, strange as it seemed, had opened some kind of damn portal between worlds or realms or some shit. Colton had seen it with his own eyes, he’d watched a massive white stallion emerge from the portal and turn into a man who claimed to be Ellie’s brother.

He claimed to be Fae or fairy people. Colton still wasn’t entirely clear on the whole story, but he hadn’t stuck around long at his brothers’ ranch after that event. All the other-worldly stuff just wasn’t his cup of tea. Not even when he’d witnessed it.

Now this. A crystal Mama had basically browbeat him into adding to the chain with the dogtags he still wore had done… something.

He’d had enough and didn’t want to think about or discuss things of a supernatural, mystical or otherwise woo-woo nature. “Come on, Mama, let me drive you home.”

“Thank you, my darling, but I have my car. I think I’ll sit here a bit longer. I feel a strong energy tonight, something I want to investigate.”

Colton had long ago learned not to question her on such matters. He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I love you.”

“And I you, my darling,” she replied. “Now off with you.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Yes.” She waved to him as he left, then stared for a long time into the flickering candlelight. At length she nodded. “So, the paths converge.”

She returned her gaze to the candle. If Colton’s crystal had been activated then there were forces at play very close to home. Soon he would face his destiny.

* * * * *

By the time Memory finished looking at all the photos, her eyes were getting heavy. Shutting down the computer, she climbed into the big bed. Within moments she was sound asleep.

And that’s when the dream came.

A fiery sun sank into the horizon, streaking the barren landscape with tongues of light, leaving sharp contrasts between the strips of light and dark. A wind picked up, sending dust and sand swirling around her.

Memory turned her back to the wind and realized she stood at the edge of an encampment in a vast desert. Tents were arranged in a crescent line that bulged along the western slope of a hill. A large herd of sheep and goats roamed the ground of the semicircular enclosure of the tents.

Memory recognized the scene from a shoot she’d done once in the Sinai. It was a Bedouin encampment. She had no idea how she came to be there, but knew the custom was to enter the camp from the northwest to the sheikh’s tent. She started forward and only then realized that she was dressed in the fashion of the Bedouin, a loose dress in a deep indigo that was topped by a heavy, hip-length, dark wool jubbe, an overcoat of bright blue that was ornamented with braided trim in various hues of blue.

Memory raised her hand to feel the silk scarf that covered her hair. On it were stitched designs in threads of gold and silver. Her arms jingled when she moved. Mixed widths of gold and silver bracelets adorned her wrists.

A little scared but curious, she approached the camp. There was a celebration taking place, obviously a wedding. People were eating and drinking. Women were singing while a variety of reed flutes and stringed instruments played an accompaniment.

Memory made her way through the people, watching curiously. She found a place to sit among the women. Her presence didn’t attract attention, rather she seemed to be an accepted part of the community.

For several minutes she occupied herself watching the people, listening to the music. Then an old, stately man rose and held his hand up for silence. He made an announcement, welcoming everyone again, and telling them of an extraordinary treat that was in store for them. A dancer, famous in all of the lands of the Middle East was there to dance for them.

There was a ripple of excitement that went through the camp, almost tangible it was so strong. Memory could only equate it to the excitement that precedes the appearance of a famous rock star at a concert.

Music started and the crowd parted for the passage of a woman. A large, full-figured woman who would have been considered fat by current fashion and Western society, her hair was long and black, her eyes midnight dark and flashing.

Memory was not overcome with the same excitement as those around her. To her, the woman was just an overlarge female in clothing that displayed far too much skin. Then the woman started to dance.

Within Moments, Memory was transfixed, mesmerized by the seductive aura that emanated from the woman that captured every eye. She was quite sure she’d never seen a woman so seductive, so alluring.

When the dance ended, Memory’s eyes followed the woman as she approached the sheikh. It was then she saw him.

Time skidded to a halt, the earth stopped spinning, and the planets paused their orbit around the sun. Her universe contained only him.

Long dark hair peeked from beneath the white kaffia-cloth that covered his head.
Eyes the color of the sky at twilight adorned a face that was nothing short of a study in masculine beauty. Thick elegant eyebrows, strong nose and full lips were housed in a face that was angular but strong, as if chiseled from living stone.

Those eyes captured hers and abruptly there was sound in her quiet universe. The steady rapid pulse of her heart hammered suddenly in her ears and her breath quickened. Memory was spellbound. Every nerve ending in her body ignited and a flood of longing so strong it was close to pain forced a low moan from her throat. The air crackled with the energy that passed between them.

And suddenly the spell was broken. The dancer was standing before her, a knowing but gentle smile on her beautiful face. “Fear not your destiny, my daughter. It lies in wait for you. Travel with light steps and open your heart to love, your mind to possibility and you will find what you seek.”

She pressed something into Memory’s hand then kissed her on both cheeks and turned away. Memory looked down at the object in her hand, and then looked up to call out to the woman. Nothing remained of the encampment. The man stood alone in the light of the moon.

He stretched out his hand to her in invitation. Memory’s heart leapt in her chest. She forgot the feel of the ground beneath her feet, the warm air on her skin and the soft whisper of wind. All that existed was him. He drew her like the proverbial moth to a flame.

She made her way to him, never once breaking the magnetic connection of their eyes. She stopped in front of him and hesitantly placed her hand in his.

A surge of energy so erotic it took her breath swept through her, causing her fingers to tighten in his grasp. Her heart rate quickened and heat flooded her body. He pulled her to him, his eyes holding her hostage.

He murmured in a soft but deep voice. She did not understand the words, but the tone with which they were uttered spoke to her of love and passion such as that found only in dreams.

His free hand moved to cup the back of her head and pull her close, their breath mingling and bodies molding to one another. With infinite slowness his lips claimed hers, warm and soft. His tongue traced the outline of her mouth, parting her lips gently. She surrendered eagerly and the kiss turned to one of passion and longing, tongues exploring and teeth nipping. His erection pressed against her belly and she undulated against him.

His hands moved around her, cupping her ass to draw her more firmly against his erection. Memory groaned and wound her arms around his neck, devouring his mouth hungrily.

“I must have you,” he murmured against her lips. ”Come with me now, to my tent.”

“Yes,” she agreed without hesitation
.

And suddenly the dream was over. She found herself standing beside her bed and the light of a new day brightening the sky.

She raised both hands to her head, running her fingers through her hair from front to back, blowing out her breath and thinking what a shame it was that life didn’t mimic dreams, because sure as sunrise if she ever met a man like that she’d latch on and never let go.

Knowing that she’d be unable to get back to sleep, she went to shower and dress. She might as well put the day to use and explore the city. Maybe her dream was an omen. Maybe whatever hidden thing was calling to her was around the next corner.

Chapter Four

Colton cursed as the wrench slipped out of his hand and he banged his knuckles on the tractor manifold. He’d woken before dawn in a foul mood and it hadn’t improved in the hours since.

He blamed the damn story about the crystal. He’d gone to bed thinking about it and fallen asleep feeling a slight current where it lay against his chest. Then the dream had started.

And what a dream. He’d had more than his fair share of erotic encounters and had bedded more women than he cared to remember, but nothing in his real life had ever come close to the dream.

Even now, hours later, he was still trying to analyze just what it was about the dream that was so extraordinary. In it, he’d been in bed with a woman with dark hair. That’s all he could remember about her. Which was disappointing, considering the sex had inspired sensations that were more powerful than anything he’d ever experienced.

Not that the sex had been kinky or unusual. It wasn’t the act itself that had been so remarkable, but the feelings it evoked. And the fact that he couldn’t remember what the woman looked like in the dream.

He told himself he had to just forget about it. It was meaningless, despite Mirriam’s admonishment that dreams were portends that directed people. Colton figured his dream was little more than a mirror of his dissatisfaction with the pattern of his love life.

And pondering it wasn’t going to get this damn tractor up and running. So, pushing thoughts of the dream aside, he concentrated on the task at hand.

* * * * *

Memory sipped from a take-out coffee cup and scanned the shops alongside the street as she drove. Some of them sparked her interest. She thought she’d just find a place to park and wander on foot, puttering through the shops.

A stutter from the engine of her car gained her attention. One sputter was followed by two and then another. She pumped on the accelerator and the car literally coughed, jerked, and then stopped completely.

Her first inclination was to restart it. That didn’t work. The starter ground and whined and after several minutes of sitting in the street blocking traffic, it went dead. Completely.

“Shit!” She fumbled for her cell phone in her shoulder bag, and then changed her mind at the blare of horns behind her.

Memory put the car into neutral, got out and started pushing. It wasn’t easy. Her 1959 Cadillac Eldorado was twenty feet long, six feet wide and weighed in at a full two tons. It was a lot for a one hundred and thirty-five pound woman to push. Bearing down, she dug in and tried to get it rolling. Nothing happened. She grunted, hunched down, tucked in her head and tried again. At first there was no movement, then suddenly the car started rolling forward.

Memory’s head popped up, and to her surprise, she saw a woman on the opposite side of the car, pushing along with her. A big woman. Not just in height but girth as well. Dressed in a flowing skirt, colorful peasant blouse with a wide belt around her ample middle, with long dark hair and bejeweled wrists and fingers, she looked like something out of a gypsy movie.

There was, however, little time for Memory to ponder the appearance of her savior, because now that the car was in motion, she had to concentrate on steering with one hand while she pushed. Between the two of them, they got the car out of the middle of the street and over to the curb. Memory jumped in and steered the car into the middle of two parallel parking places.

As soon as she set the brake she got out of the car and hurried to approach the exotic woman who had so graciously come to her rescue.

“Thank you so much,” Memory said with a grateful smile.

“My pleasure, dear,” the woman replied in a voice that Memory could only describe as musical. “It’s a lovely car.”

Memory cut a look over at the Caddy. “Yeah, I love the old girl. She belonged to—to someone important to me.”

“Then it is more than a mere means of transportation,” the woman commented.

Memory nodded, thinking about her stepfather as she looked at the car. “Yes. He bought it the year he won the Pulitzer in Photojournalism. Said it took everything he had and he nearly starved to pay for it, but it was worth it.”

The woman regarded her thoughtfully. “And now that he has passed, the symbol of his success finds care in your hands.”

Memory jerked around to look at the woman. “Why do you think he’s dead?”

The woman chuckled. “My dear, what man would relinquish such a prized possession as long as he drew breath?”

Memory laughed. “Well, you’re right about that. I had to beg to drive his baby while he was alive. He sure loved this car.” A frown marred her features. “It’s so odd. I had it serviced last month and it’s been running fine. I can’t imagine why it just stopped.”

“Perhaps it was simply destiny,” the woman said.

Memory shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s darn inconvenient. You don’t happen to know if there’s a place around that services classic cars, do you?”

The woman smiled and offered her hand. “Come, dear. Let’s go inside my school and I’ll give you the name of a very reputable person.”

“Oh, thank you,” Memory said, “Let me grab my stuff.”

She got her camera case and shoulder bag and followed the woman to the entrance of one of the small storefronts. A tasteful green awning sheltered the front window and door, and artful gold lettering announced “Mirriam’s”.

The interior was tastefully appointed with a distinctly exotic flare. On the walls were paintings of scantily clad belly dancers, sheer material swirling around them like liquid light. Sculptures of various cultures were scattered among plants and deeply padded backless benches. An antique desk from what Memory thought was the baroque period occupied a position of command in the room.

Mirriam floated over to the desk. That was the only way Memory could describe her movements, liquid and smooth. After setting her woven handbag on top of the desk, the woman turned to Memory. “Now, you need someone to fix your chariot and I happen to know someone very adept with engines.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, indeed. Colton Marsh.”

Memory pulled out her cell phone to dial for directory assistance. “Spelled like it sounds?” she asked as she dialed.

“No need,” Mirriam plucked the phone from her hand and closed it. “I happen to have a close personal relationship with Colton.”

With that, she picked up the phone on her desk and dialed with long nailed fingers. “Hello dear, I have a lovely woman here who is having problems with her car. Yes, I am perfectly aware of that. That’s why I called you. This particular chariot is a…” she looked to Memory for the information.

“A 1959 Cadillac Eldorado,” Memory said.

Mirriam repeated the information into the phone then smiled. “Yes, of course. I shall endeavor to keep her comfortable until you arrive.”

“I’m afraid it will be some time before he can get here,” she announced to Memory. “You’re welcome to stay here and wait.”

“Oh no, no, that’s okay.” Memory wanted to take her up on the offer. The woman seemed quite likeable, and exuded an intriguing air that Memory couldn’t identify. She’d like to spend more time with the woman, maybe get a few shots of her. There was a certain exotic appeal to her that puzzled yet drew Memory. But she didn’t like the idea of imposing on the woman.

“I really appreciate all your help… oh, I’m sorry. I’m Memory Wells.”

Mirriam replied with a smile. “I am Mirriam.”

“So you own this place,” Memory stated the obvious. “You said something about it being a school?”

“Why yes, dear. I teach belly dancing.”

Memory’s mouth nearly dropped open. Surely the woman was jesting. She moved well and was quite charming and attractive for an older woman, but a belly dancer?

Something niggled at her mind but she couldn’t pull it into the foreground. Whatever it was, it inspired a sudden itch to feel her camera in her hand. Shooting a belly dancing class would be an interesting addition to her collection of travel photos.

“Perhaps you’d like to observe a class?” Mirriam suggested.

“Really?” Memory was delighted at the invitation. “Would you consider letting me shoot you?”

Mirriam put a hand to her ample bosom. “Well that hardly seems kind.”

Memory laughed. “No, I mean take photos. I’m a photographer.”

“Yes, dear, I know exactly who you are,” Mirriam’s voice dropped in timbre, making a slight chill run down Memory’s spine.

“You do? How?”

Mirriam’s smile was mysterious. “Why darling, even here in the south we ladies like to look at photos of luscious men. And when it comes to glamour photography you are without a doubt the reigning queen.”

Memory blushed and sipped at the tea. “So, is that a yes on the shoot?”

“How could I say no to the queen?” Mirriam said with a chuckle. “Oh my, look at the time. I must change for class. The ladies will be arriving shortly. Is there any special preparation you need?”

“Would it be okay for me to take a look at the studio so I can get an idea on the light?”

“Certainly, my dear. Right through there. I’ll be with you as soon as I change.”

“Thanks, Mirriam,” Memory smiled and watched Mirriam glide away. She opened the door to the studio and smiled as she stepped across the threshold. She might have to deal with a broken-down car later in the day, but right now she was going to have a little fun.