Table for Three-Hold the Blood Read online

  "No point really." He sighed. "If I've got to shut down, then I might as well let everyone have the day off."

  "If you change your mind..." She waggled her cell back and forth in front of him.

  His half-smile plagued her as she started her Sentra and tried to decide whether to head home or get the shopping done. It was Marklon's turn to shop, but if she had the day off anyhow, then maybe getting it done combined with a nice dinner would cool the guys' hot tempers off. She wasn't up for an all-night bitch marathon.

  * * * * *

  Buggy loaded with the makings for stuffed potatoes and spinach salad, she waited as the clerk went into the back to check if any fresh tilapia had been delivered. The beefy attendant returned with a large, ice-packed crate.

  Perfect! If this didn't appease her two upset roommates, then she'd break out the whipped cream she'd purchased and begin strategically placing it. All over her naked body. She knew how to sidetrack her overly protective men.

  The seafood clerk began laying out the white filets, as she debated whether to grab a pound or so of shrimp.

  "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!"

  The sudden exclamation jerked her gaze back to the fish and the...oh, shit!

  Dismembered feet lay on the floor near the dropped crate amid the scattered ice.

  The stiff blue-ish body parts were jagged around the ankles. Shattered bones jutted from their centers and the skin was warped, dead, and peeling in grotesque fashion. The toes seemed to be broken as they were crooked and pale, and the nails were a deadly dark shade of gray.

  He shot her a horrified look before grabbing the store's service phone and requesting a call to 911.

  It was an hour before she was finally cleared to leave. She couldn't help much. Clerk gets fish, unloads feet....

  Oh, and one thing she did know for sure. She sure as shit didn't want seafood for dinner anymore.

  Chapter Three

  Wienerschnitzle

  She'd swung by the meat store for some prepared smoked sausage as being kept by the police at the supermarket left her no time to prepare a home cooked meal.

  After playing Twenty Questions with the police officer, who turned out to be none other than Officer Hurly himself, who, upon seeing the feet—you guessed it—resumed hurling, she'd been allowed to leave. Poor boy seriously needed a damn desk job.

  Good! She'd beat the guys home even with the unexpected and gruesome delay.

  Shana raced around, setting the table and lighting the candles as the wild rice cooked. A nice bottle of merlot sat in an ice bucket, chilled and ready to serve. By the time she heard the door open, she had the salad tossed and ready.

  Perfect. She was in luck. For the first time in weeks, Erron had arrived home first.

  "Wow, something smells good. I don't suppose this sudden domestic spurt is due to your obnoxiously stupid outing today? Because if you think feeding me is going to cool my jets, or, hell, cool Marklon's jets, you are quite delusional."

  Out of the two of her men, if she could get Erron on her side, he'd be able to help her convince Marklon the visions were more than just coincidence, thereby squelching any arguments over the stupidity of her earlier trip to the barn.

  By the time the front door opened again, Erron was on board, even a bit freaked out, by the similarities between his nightmare and the actual murder. The sausages most likely needed reheating. She'd sent Erron ahead to begin warming them, while she retreated to the bathroom to give him time to smooth things over with Marklon—or so she hoped.

  The sound of a platter shattering followed by oddly high-pitched erratic curses sent her scurrying to the kitchen. As she ran in, she overheard Erron somberly telling Marklon to call the police.

  "What the hell is going on?"

  "Shana, stay right where you are," Marklon barked.

  "Why, what's happened now?" she asked.

  Even to Shana's ears, the word "now" came out sounding like a whine.

  "Damn it; for once would you listen?" Pause. "Please."

  Marklon was pissed, yes, but the fact he'd added the "please" proved whatever the hell had happened was serious. She reluctantly did as told.

  She sat at the dining table and listened as Erron requested police assistance. His tone became hushed, and she caught the click when he hung up.

  "Okay, I've done as told. Now will one of you please tell me what the hell we need the police for?"

  "Where did you get dinner?" Erron asked with a stern expression.

  Marklon stood behind Erron and mirrored his seriousness.

  "After the seafood dinner was a bust"—she glanced from Erron to Marklon trying to determine if Erron had filled Marklon in on the whole fishy feet ordeal and caught the slight nod he gave—"I whipped into Dick Johnson's Meat Market because they had their extra-thick sausages on sale. Why?"

  What the hell was going on? They'd never drilled her about dinner before? It was just fucking sausage—oh, my God.

  "If either of you are about to tell me something other than sausage was wrapped up in the paper, don't. I'm freaking starving."

  At their paled expressions, she lost her appetite.

  "Do I even want to know—"

  "No!" Both men belted in unison cutting her off.

  Erron left to answer the door and against her better judgment, she asked Marklon what exactly the package consisted of. Oh, it was a nice fat sausage all right, though she could quip not the type that goes well with merlot....

  She and Marklon went outside to the patio while the arriving police officers spoke in private with Erron in the living room. From the disgusting sounds coming from their hall bathroom, Officer Hurly, who'd been one of the responding officers, must have lost his lunch again. Dude seriously needed a vacation.

  "All right, Erron talked to me, and, while I'm still rather peeved you went out investigating on your own, I do concur a hell of a lot more is going on than a normal nightmare or killing." Marklon trailed off, deep in thought.

  Wow, talk about owning up. Marklon wasn't one to admit defeat easily. That said, he was honest and was always one to want to do what was best. Admitting to something weird happening was a start.

  "I had something strange happen today." Again, that freaky faraway expression came across Marklon's face.

  Shana responded in exasperation. "For Pete's sake, don't hold back for the little woman. I've seen a head, a pair of feet, and the mutilated body those feet and head belonged to."

  Yeah, being loved and cared for by two strong alpha men had its perks, but it also came with a downside—the near suffocation she suffered when they protected her, especially when they were protecting her from herself.

  "You know how I sometimes take a fifteen-minute shut-eye around lunch in my office?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, when I did today, I awoke in a near panic attack. Well, not really panic, but rather pain and a strong sense of terror."

  She wasn't sure she was following.

  "You know those dreams you get when your feet shoot out like you've fallen or missed a step?"

  "Yeah. Those are so freaky. Like your subconscious is forcing your body to do things you're not even aware of, much less have control over."

  "Similar to that but multiplied by a hundred. I had this overwhelming sense of terror and being chased. Then a pain like nothing I've ever before experienced hit so hard I awoke with my heart racing, and honestly I feared I was having a heart attack."

  Marklon seemed to be leaving out the exact location of his pain on purpose.

  Shana had a bad feeling about where this was heading, and, when he gripped his crotch protectively, she shuddered.

  "You're thinking your dream has something to do with the murders?"

  "I don't understand how, but I am more inclined than ever to think so. Between Erron's exact vision of the murde
red woman, and this sense I had...something is definitely up. What bothered me most was this uncanny sense of familiarity. An almost kinship with either the victim or the murderer."

  "I'm sorry you had the nightmare of vision or whatever the hell it was, but I am so relieved you are at least open to the possibility that something out of the ordinary is going on."

  He simply nodded, grim-faced and definitely worried.

  "Excuse me, there are some questions...querghss...."

  She and Marklon watched as the two officers stepped from the sliding glass doors to head their way on the patio.

  "Oh, for the love of god, how in the hell much did you eat today?" the other officer asked Hurly as he took off like a bat out of hell for the bushes. Thankfully, he headed away from the outdoor settee Shana and Marklon currently occupied. His spews, gurgles and heaves did nothing but roll Shana's own stomach. Again.

  "I apologize about Officer Henderson, Mrs....Ms...., uhh?"

  "Shana Worther."

  The officer eyed her inquisitively, lingering a tad too long on her chest.

  "Is that a Mrs. or Ms.?"

  "She's taken, ass-wipe." Erron growled . He stepped through the glass doors at the same time Marklon moved to stand possessively by her side.

  The officer's brows rose as he took in first Erron and then Marklon before settling an accusatory glare on her. Judging.

  Shana tried to subdue the suddenly aggressive atmosphere. "Weren't you wanting to ask a question?"

  If she had a penny for every scathing glare she'd suffered under, she'd be a millionaire two times over.

  "Yes, you said you picked up, uh, several pounds of smoked sausage."

  The officer turned two shades of green at the mention of the sausage and glanced toward the bushes where Hurly still hunched over the bushes gagging. For a minute Shana wondered if the man wasn't about to join his buddy.

  "You never looked at it? Checked it out?" he continued in a strained tone.

  "Nope." She shrugged. "You ever bought any? It typically comes wrapped in white wax deli paper. To, you know, keep it hot. Kinda the point in buying freshly cooked sausage, ya know. To, uh, keep it hot."

  She leaned into Marklon while reaching out for Erron's hand.

  "So you never actually came in contact with the...um...." Now he turned a pasty shade of white.

  "Penis? Pecker? Phallus?"

  Fine, sue her. She was tired. She'd had a long, grueling, bloody day, and she had every right to be a cranky bitch.

  "Crude, but accurate."

  "No. I didn't, haven't, and don't want to."

  "As I already told you, I myself opened the package and became aware of what we had." Marklon was growing edgy and turning a bit green himself.

  "As this is an ongoing investigation, please make sure to be available for any further questions that may arise."

  "Of course."

  "Oh, pull your gut up boy, and let's go." The officer demanded as Hurly stepped from behind the bushes. Sick or no, Hurly must have figured out their unique relationship and gave the guys an appreciate look as he passed by. Erron glared at the man, but his look was far more on the threatening side, than friendly.

  Poor Hurly turned green again.

  Chapter Four

  Magic Bullet: As Seen in a Dream

  Warm bubbles trickled down her skin with heavenly precision. So did the hands swirling through her hair, massaging her scalp and shoulders. Having someone wash her hair was admittedly one of her favorite indulgences.

  Marklon fingered her scalp as Erron scrubbed a lazy pattern down her body. So far, Erron had avoided all the sensitive areas, and her eyes flickered closed as her lids grew heavy. In her momentary silence, Erron's hands wandered, as did Marklon's as indicated by the strong arms which came around her shoulders. Bath-warmed hands ran across her breasts, kneading and lifting the heavy globes as hot breaths tickled her ears. Other hands, presumably Erron's, meandered lower, sliding through slick folds until rough fingers swept over her quickly swelling nubbin. The thick, work-calloused digit was abrasive enough to cause the perfect amount of friction against her little bundle of heightened nerves. Though gentle, the finger worked just the right amount of circling pressure to rapidly build up her pleasured state. Up and down, the fingers rolled and pinched, pressing on and off until she squirmed so hard she sloshed water out of the jet-enhanced tub.

  A warm mouth found and nipped her sensitive neck as expert hands rolled her beaded nipples between strong fingers, synchronizing between perfectly applied pleasure and almost painful tweaks. The playful actions, never too hard, just pushed the boundaries of somewhere between, as if testing her while teasing. Those sensations, coupled with the pressures going on lower from the other set of hands working her, caused even more water to splish-splash out of the tub.

  "I think our girl has gotten herself all worked up," Erron noted, voice deep with desire.

  Reaching over, she grabbed Erron around the neck and hauled him slap into the oversized tub with her.

  The splurge on the custom-sized tub had been a gift from the guys when they'd bought the bungalow. A custom tub built for three, which meant Erron slid right in next to her with room to spare.

  After some awkward shifting around in the tub and a chuckle or two from a dry Marklon behind her, Erron's soaked shirt flew across the room, followed by his dripping trousers.

  "I think a certain brazen vixen needs a spanking," Erron teased while scooping up bubbles to place them erotically on her chest.

  She squeaked in anticipation, having no doubt he'd follow through, but she never dreamed how quickly he would react.

  The slick sliding of flesh did not stop his sudden assault as she found herself bent over the side of the tub. Luckily for her, she'd ended up at the bottom end of the tub where the small built-in seat was located. Using the seat's edge as leverage, she reached for Marklon. She didn't like him so far out of reach and wasn't content until he'd come to kneel before her.

  Teeth nibbled up her spine while hands wound around her to toy again with her heavily sensitized breasts. She fought the gnawing need, which built so fast and so deep she thought she'd go insane, while reaching for Marklon's zipper. Erron continued his oral assault from behind her, kissing and nipping his way over her backside. Tingles burst across her skin, cream flooded her center, making her slow to free Marklon's massive erection.

  Her mouth watered at the large organ which sprang free before her hungry gaze.

  Thick, long, and heavily veined, the massive muscle begged for attention, bobbing up and down before seeming to give her it's one-eyed salute.

  "Well, at least we're seeing eye to eye about something. A rather large issue I'd say." She tongued the broad mushroom head with eagerness.

  "Yes, I suppose we are, my hardheaded, exasperating, beautiful little water nymph."

  Marklon's eyes closed as she took the entire head within the heat of her mouth.

  "Nymphomaniac is more apt, don't you think?" Erron managed between concentrated grunts.

  She sensed Erron's frantic shifts. He wanted to take her, and now, yet she was aware that, though he needed release, he refrained, wanting to linger in the moment of pure unity. This understanding and respect for what they shared was just one of the many reasons she loved him so.

  She cherished them equally, but they were so vastly different from one another. Erron, so patient and vibrant in everything he did, and Marklon, so...so intense and so private. He demanded and took, but he also cared more deeply than he ever let on. Marklon never took what didn't belong to him, but he would still protect that which his soul recognized did belong to him. Whether the person or pet wanted it or not. Case in point, the dog they'd tried to adopt. Damn thing hated Marklon, but it didn't stop Marklon from refusing to take the mutt back to the pound. No...he endured growl after growl until another home was
found for the curly-haired Cujo.

  He'd die for either of them, and she and Erron were smart enough to see the depth of his feelings and love him all the more for it.

  She worked her mouth around the silken tip until she'd taken most of Marklon within, moving her head to and from with an occasional pop as she lost suctioning. She peeped up and took pride in her female prowess as she noted the loll in his head. His eyes were shut tight, and his jaw clenched as he struggled to hold back.

  Suddenly, Erron gave up on holding back. His hand trembled against her ass as his cock nudged her pussy. He was on the cusp of blowing his load and was now ready to tumble over.

  Her body thrummed to life as her two lovers and friends approached the verge of ecstasy, and she knew she contributed to their euphoria. On her elbows at the tub's edge, she manipulated Markon like a fine-tuned instrument. She worked his tightly-drawn sac, massaging the jewels with gentle precision. Using her free hand, she stroked his cock, timing each movement in conjunction with the furious pulls from her mouth.

  Erron thrust forward, sliding into her all the way to the hilt in one smooth stroke. She stretched and strained around him to adjust to the pure male intrusion. Left with little choice, she released Marklon's sac to brace herself for the onslaught of thrusts heading her way.

  Each vigorous slide and withdrawal from Erron took her mouth to and away Marklon's growing member. The sudden thickening of pre-cum warned he was about to shoot his seed. She suckled so hard her cheeks hollowed, picking up the pace to match the intense pounding she took from behind. Her tits bounced up and down erratically, drawing Marklon's attention even through his lust-laden haze. Blindly, he reached for the jiggling mounds, desperate for the fleshy female warmth. Erron lost control and, gripping her hips fiercely, slammed home again and again until she heard the grunts of straight primal male release.

  Two sets actually, as Marklon sounded off seconds before warm jets filled her mouth. She loved when they all came together as if all parts of a clock, working in perfectly timed mechanical precision. Her own orgasm ripped through her like a Texas tornado in a Midwestern town, leaving her unsure which end was up and which end down.