warrior, to ground her for the challenge to come.
Her arms still locked around his neck, he picked her up and
threw her on the bed, landing on top. She flipped him back onto the floor,
taking a lamp and the alarm clock with them. With those nails, she ripped his
clothes off, then rode him so hard she pulled the curtain off its rod when she
came. Not to be undone, Tai slammed her against the wall, splattering plaster
all over the carpet, and an image of her shoulders etched into the paint. He
threw her on the floor. Her nails ripped the patches of carpet to her side to
shreds during a particularly violent orgasm. A broken chair, tattered sheets
and a warped showerhead later, and the damage to the room would set them each
back a couple of paychecks. They loved each other and would fight for change,
but they remained warriors.
Tenth Night
Brick buildings and ivory columns greeted Tai and Annie as
they made their way through Harvard Yard to find Sander Xenos. The light
jackets they brought from Washington, DC looked out of place among the down
coats and sheepskins of the Harvard students in the nippy Boston weather.
Warrior trained, they barely felt the chill. They had no trouble navigating
their way to Robinson Hall on Quincy Street, the home of Harvard’s history
department. Once they were inside, a student pointed the way to the appropriate
office, but Sander Xenos was nowhere to be found. After several inquiries with
the departmental secretary, they discerned that Sander was not on campus, was
not expected to be there, and she was not sure when he’d return. He was there
for research, and had no teaching obligations.
Popping into a café, Tai opened his laptop, performed his
magic, and fifteen minutes later had a home address and directions to a
nondescript modern apartment building that overlooked the Charles River. They
waited to enter behind a tenant so as not to have to call up. Trying to explain
Tai on the apartment intercom would have been an exercise in futility. If their
appearances were as similar as Phoebe insisted, better to have Sander see him
for himself. On the top floor, they found his door, rang the bell and waited.
They rang again, then a third time. Nothing. Tai quickly picked the lock and
dragged Annie inside.
“Why are we doing this? We protect, this is wrong,” she
whispered, even though they were already inside and no one could hear them.
He squeezed her hand. “I want to learn something about him,
help me prepare to meet him.”
She nodded but her body remained tense. “I’m not sure how
much you’ll learn from this place. Aside from the packed bookshelves and old
maps hung on the walls, the place feels sterile.” It was a typical rental with
blah, beige carpets, walls, cabinets and bathroom tiles. “He’s not really
planning on immigrating here.”
“Books can be pretty revealing. You take the shelves by the
couch. I’ll check the ones over the gas fireplace.” He patted her butt, coaxing
her to get started.
Volume after volume of mythology—Greek, North American,
Asian, Norse—he had scores of books on each pantheon from all time periods.
Modern, older, and others that looked almost ancient. Some humans suspected
that myths had a basis in reality, that a supernatural world coexisted with their
own. Did his father?
“Tai, I’ve got all his books. He’s written a mountain’s
worth about fertility rates, culture and family structure among various tribes,
ancient peoples all over the world. He really might be able to help.”
“I also think he may be a myth hunter.” Humans who looked
for evidence of their existence. Almost every pantheon had a public relations
team who monitored the media and went into action to keep the existence of
supernatural beings a secret. “Whether he’s dangerous or intellectually curious
is something we’ll determine when we speak to him.” Tai might want to change
the rules but he also knew that neither the humans nor the pantheons were
Her arms still locked around his neck, he picked her up and
threw her on the bed, landing on top. She flipped him back onto the floor,
taking a lamp and the alarm clock with them. With those nails, she ripped his
clothes off, then rode him so hard she pulled the curtain off its rod when she
came. Not to be undone, Tai slammed her against the wall, splattering plaster
all over the carpet, and an image of her shoulders etched into the paint. He
threw her on the floor. Her nails ripped the patches of carpet to her side to
shreds during a particularly violent orgasm. A broken chair, tattered sheets
and a warped showerhead later, and the damage to the room would set them each
back a couple of paychecks. They loved each other and would fight for change,
but they remained warriors.
Tenth Night
Brick buildings and ivory columns greeted Tai and Annie as
they made their way through Harvard Yard to find Sander Xenos. The light
jackets they brought from Washington, DC looked out of place among the down
coats and sheepskins of the Harvard students in the nippy Boston weather.
Warrior trained, they barely felt the chill. They had no trouble navigating
their way to Robinson Hall on Quincy Street, the home of Harvard’s history
department. Once they were inside, a student pointed the way to the appropriate
office, but Sander Xenos was nowhere to be found. After several inquiries with
the departmental secretary, they discerned that Sander was not on campus, was
not expected to be there, and she was not sure when he’d return. He was there
for research, and had no teaching obligations.
Popping into a café, Tai opened his laptop, performed his
magic, and fifteen minutes later had a home address and directions to a
nondescript modern apartment building that overlooked the Charles River. They
waited to enter behind a tenant so as not to have to call up. Trying to explain
Tai on the apartment intercom would have been an exercise in futility. If their
appearances were as similar as Phoebe insisted, better to have Sander see him
for himself. On the top floor, they found his door, rang the bell and waited.
They rang again, then a third time. Nothing. Tai quickly picked the lock and
dragged Annie inside.
“Why are we doing this? We protect, this is wrong,” she
whispered, even though they were already inside and no one could hear them.
He squeezed her hand. “I want to learn something about him,
help me prepare to meet him.”
She nodded but her body remained tense. “I’m not sure how
much you’ll learn from this place. Aside from the packed bookshelves and old
maps hung on the walls, the place feels sterile.” It was a typical rental with
blah, beige carpets, walls, cabinets and bathroom tiles. “He’s not really
planning on immigrating here.”
“Books can be pretty revealing. You take the shelves by the
couch. I’ll check the ones over the gas fireplace.” He patted her butt, coaxing
her to get started.
Volume after volume of mythology—Greek, North American,
Asian, Norse—he had scores of books on each pantheon from all time periods.
Modern, older, and others that looked almost ancient. Some humans suspected
that myths had a basis in reality, that a supernatural world coexisted with their
own. Did his father?
“Tai, I’ve got all his books. He’s written a mountain’s
worth about fertility rates, culture and family structure among various tribes,
ancient peoples all over the world. He really might be able to help.”
“I also think he may be a myth hunter.” Humans who looked
for evidence of their existence. Almost every pantheon had a public relations
team who monitored the media and went into action to keep the existence of
supernatural beings a secret. “Whether he’s dangerous or intellectually curious
is something we’ll determine when we speak to him.” Tai might want to change
the rules but he also knew that neither the humans nor the pantheons were
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