Linda Robertson - Fatal Circle

We do not, most of us, choose to die;

nor do we choose the time and conditions of our death.

But within this realm of choicelessness,

we do choose how we live.

Ambition: The Secret Passion, Joseph Epstein

This ones for my own wolfy bad-boy rocker, Jim.

Red-Caped Hero Thanks

Paula Guran

Im upgrading you from the usual margarita thanks to the Heros Cape for this one.

Java-n-Chocolate Thanks

Michelle, Melissa, Laura, Emily, Faith, Rachel, and Tracy

To my writing group, the Ohio Writers Network (OWN)

for reading, critiques, support, and the friendship. Its priceless.

High-Frequency Thanks

Billy Nyte & Syrinx at NRRRadio.

Cookie Monster Thanks

Shannon & Co.

For reading and sharing baked goods. Yum!

Tour du Jour Thanks

Scollard. You always have answers.

Reverent Gratitude

For the Many-named Muse. You still rock.

Extra Thanks

To the copyeditors, reviewers, and bloggers and tweeters.

To Jolly Rancher because your Hot Cinnamon candy is inspiring. And to Zocalo for excellent food and service.

My living room clock read two-forty-six A.M. It was no longer Halloween night, but All Hallows Day. Or, as some called it, All Saints Day. But it was no saint who held me in his armsit was a waerewolf.

I think youd like my apartment, Red. Red. Thats me. Persephone Alcmedi to the rest of the world. Seph to some. Red only to Johnny, my not-exactly-Big-Bad-waerewolf. It has that open-living concept.

I wasnt fooled. Its a glorified dorm room, isnt it?

If by glorified, you mean it has a private bathroom, then yes. Johnny sniffed, affecting annoyance. Something I sacrificed when I moved in here.

Id had to forfeit my homes vampire defenses three weeks before to save a friends life and Johnny had temporarily moved into the third-floor attic roomfor protection purposes only. The defenses had been reinstated, but hed remained. He being the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, I hadnt complained.

Cmon. Johnnys deep blue eyes glittered seductively. His voice dropped low. Nothings more romantic than a bachelor pad.

Wed both had a hell of an evening. Words like hectic or demanding didnt begin to cover it. But evidently I was the only one suffering from fatigue.

His band, Lycanthropia, had played at the Halloween Ball. Johnny was the vocalist and guitarist for the techno-goth-metal band and hed given his all on stage. He should have been as exhausted as I was.

Of course, Id made quite an effort on that stage, too. Id fought and killed a fairy in front of hundreds of witnesses, whod applauded afterward thinking it part of the Halloween show.

Killer fairies and rocknroll: that was only a small part of what wed dealt with this evening.

Do you honestly want to show me your apartment now?

My one bulb is burned out so theres not much youd actually see. His lean-muscled arms slid around me. I felt so grounded and safe in his embrace. But I promise, what you feel will make up for it.

What Johnny wanted was crystal clear, and so was the reason he thought going elsewhere was a good idea. Id already mentioned my fears about the rest of the household learning we were intimate, so he was trying to keep the secret. At his apartment we could have assured privacy and we wouldnt have to retire to separate bedrooms as we had to here. Cuddling and sleeping together after sex would have been nice.

Apparently, to him, if we werent actually seen together we had plausible deniability. Not that my live-in grandmotherNanawould ever believe that wed visited his apartment in the middle of the night just so he could give me the nickel tour.

Nana and my nine-year-old foster daughter, Beverley, were asleep in their bedroomseach just a halls width from mine. The old saltbox farmhouse had paper-thin walls. Even the layers between the second-floor ceiling and attic floor lacked the ability to dampen noise. Id heard Johnny playing his guitar up there when his little amplifier wasnt even cranked up to 1.

Still, there were things he didnt know. The lucusi is coming here at dawn, Johnny.

He pulled me closer. Hed gotten a shower after the show, washing off the smell of sweaty leather stage clothes and leaving only the cedar and sage that was his unique scent. Had to try.

His breath on my neck was warm, his voice just rough enough to catch in my ear and send a tingle down to my toes. Parts of me were suddenly insisting they didnt qualify as weary. It made me reconsider the definition of tired. Its just so far to drive. All the way to town, only to turn around and come back here by dawn.

But people in the throes of new love did crazy things like that.

Did I just think the L-word?

You could fly.

He was right, I could. Due to my performance a few days earlier in the Eximium, a high-priestess competition, Id been inducted into the powerful lucusiled by the Eldrenne Xerxadrea that was due at dawn. A real witchs broom was one of the membership perks. But . . .

You dont want to fly? He nuzzled my neck.

It isnt that. Running my fingers through his long dark hair, I looked upway up, hes six-foot-twoand let him see I wanted him, too. I have a better idea.

Do share. Another nuzzle.

Theres only one place in my house with any kind of privacy and soundproofing. Tiptoeing, I kissed him lightly before saying, Your kennel.

Oh, that is sooo hot. He ran his hands up and down my backside and couldnt suppress his grin.

Carrying a lit jar candle and blankets, I led him outside and around the house to the cellar. Johnny pulled the slanted metal doors open and I descended the concrete stairs.

While Johnny shut the doors behind us, I placed the candle in the middle of the floor and spread the blankets over the fresh straw on the floor between the cages. I glanced into the shadows at the door of the rearmost steel kennel. This was where his beast was unleashed, where the animal in him took over. A shiver of desire ran through me.

When I heard Johnnys footsteps had reached the bottom stair, I asked over my shoulder, I dont suppose you could help me out of this costume?

He stopped in his tracks.

I tugged on the lacings of the bell-sleeved velvet midriff bustierpart of my costume for the Balland smiled.

Actually His voice was a little higher than he intended. He stopped to clear his throat and started over. Actually, I can help with that. He was by me in an instant, deftly working the knot. Seconds later, the fabric loosened and I took a satisfyingly deep breath. Then his skillful fingers touched the bare skin at my waist, thumbs drawing little circles. Anything else I can help you out of?

Im not technically out of this.

Oh, he said softly. My bad. He began loosening the lace-up strings even more. Up or down?

Definitely up.

He was so gentle, moving so slowly, careful of my hair. He was just removing my shirt, but he made it sensual, as if he were rubbing lotion all over me. Tanning lotion. The cellar was suddenly so warm I could have been standing in summer sunlight. The bustier fell onto the blanket-covered straw at my feet.

As I kept my arms raised, Johnny placed my hands on the bars atop the open cage door, and squeezed my grip to indicate I should let them remain there.

His warm fingers traced every contour of my arms, slowly descending until he could brush my hair away from my ear on one side. He put the line of his body against the back of me and nuzzled against my ear. While he sucked gently on my earlobe, his hands shifted toward my breasts.