Nine Shillings

Got Wood

London - 1842

When I got home Bran was still out doing legwork on the case, the children were in lessons, and Josef was in his workshop at the end of the garden. On the other side of the wall were the local stables, sometimes we took the children there to brush the horses and feed them apples. I flexed my fingers, the tips stung with restrained energy, but the memory helped push my rage down.

Despite the winter chill Josef had taken off his shirt to tap at the end of a chisel as he turned a chunk of wood into a dragon.

'Any excuse to get your shirt off.' I leaned against his worktable.

He glanced at me. 'You're holding your temper better these days.'

'I tried to walk it off.' My temper pushed at the inside of my skin, I held it tight. 'I almost lost control of my magic in a public place.'

He stopped tapping.

'Elizabeth laughed about what she did to Bran.' My claws dug into the pitted wood of the table. 'I promised Bran I wouldn't kill her for what she did to him. I'm having trouble with it.'

'I thought about it,' Josef said, wiping sawdust from his hands with a rag. 'But she's my daughter's mother and...' He sighed. 'Sentiment.'

I smiled. 'It's a bit late to pretend you're not the sentimental type, Josef.'

He chuckled, there was no humour to it. 'You need a hobby to help soothe you.'

'I have a hobby,' I said.

'That's not a hobby.'

I grinned. 'More of an art.' I traced the dragon's brow. 'Different to your art but...' I shrugged. 'Master craftsman.'

He picked up his chisel and removed a thread of wood with a deft flick.

'When did you start learning?' I asked.

He looked at me.

I looked back. 'Has no-one asked before?'

'Bran.' He wiped the dragon's eyes with his thumbs. 'My lovers have made it clear my interests are of no interest.'

I touched his arm. 'I'm interested.'

His gaze chased the path of my touch.

My fingers followed a scar on the back of his hand. 'Elizabeth told me you and Bran were lovers. She laughed about it.'

His hand tightened on the chisel. 'We were, a long time ago... And not so long ago.'

'I'd figured that out.' I put my hand over his.

His hand relaxed. 'Bran was worried what would happen when he told you. I told him not to be.'

I stroked Josef's hand. 'He can't understand being unconditionally loved because he doesn't think he's worthy of it. Everything becomes a threat to our relationship, at the same time he knows it isn't. If he says anything, I might start thinking he sees me as territory, and round we go to the beginning.'

'How did you get so wise?'

I chuckled. 'I'm just a manipulative shit.'

Josef dropped the chisel and cupped my face with one hand. 'You are so much more than that.'

'I like how you didn't argue I'm not a shit.'

He chuckled, touched his forehead to mine, and linked our fingers. 'And...' He went still for a moment then cleared his throat and drew away. 'Do you need some relief?'

I pulled my hand away. 'What?'

'Bran's not here to help you work off your temper.' He unfastened the top button of his trousers. 'I won't make assumptions.'

I pushed his hands away from his trousers. 'You're making yourself sound like a bloody dildo.'

'I'm good at sex without emotion,' his voice was casual, his expression was not.

'I see you, Josef,' I whispered. 'You don't want me to use you.' I put my hand to his chest and pushed him away gently. 'I will never hurt you like that.'

His laugh was hollow. 'It's just sex. I'm very good at it. I can get on my knees if you prefer.'

'No.' The hair on his chest was thickest over his heart and I dug my fingers in.

He spread his warm, callused hand over mine and leaned into my touch. I drew him back and wrapped my arms around him. He unpinned my hair, nuzzled his face into it then lifted me up onto an empty worktable and held me tight. I pressed my face into the curve of his neck and inhaled the cut wood scent of him. My rage retreated back into its box. Not gone, just stored away for later use.

'I like this,' I murmured, I wanted to press closer to his warm skin. 'Who made you think your needs were less important?'

'I don't think that.'

'You were offering "just sex" to someone you've made quite clear you don't want "just sex" with, so one of those things is a lie.'

He inhaled deeply. 'When you develop a reputation the onus is on you to prove it, not the other person to... help.'

'You don't have to prove anything to me.' I traced a scar above the waist of his trousers with my thumb. 'My poor old soldier.' I kissed his bearded jaw. 'My gladiator.'

He tilted his face towards me and I kissed him softly. Then deeper, hands all over, breath ragged. His lips were cinnamon magic and ginger biscuits. His wiry hair rasped under my rough hands. His skin buzzed with energy.

I wanted him.

There was Bran. My good intentions. And the dragon was staring at me.

I broke the kiss. 'It will never be "just sex".'

He chuckled. 'The more you talk like that the more I want you to fuck me.'

I caressed my fingertips down his chest and stopped at the top of his trousers. 'I want to ride you like Saint George...'

He frowned. 'Saint George?'

'And the dragon,' I said.

His frown didn't lessen.

'The dragon rode Saint George...' I said. 'I'd be the dragon in the analogy.'

He grinned. 'I like that, my dragon.' He curled a lock of my hair around his fingers. 'I'm two thousand years old, I stopped keeping up with modern slang a long time ago.'

'Can't blame you.' I fastened the top button of his trousers.

'The world is always changing and I remain the same.'

'I'm not sure that's entirely true, except...' I slid my hand down and cupped his balls through his trousers. 'Here perhaps.'

He leaned into me. 'Mmm... That definitely works as well as ever it did.'

'I'm sure it does.' I kissed his cheek and hopped off the worktop.

He laughed. 'You're wicked.'

I turned around, spread my arms, and bowed. 'I've had practice.' I stepped close, touched my fingers to his back, and kissed one of his scars. 'I'll take care of you.'

'I know.' He looked over his shoulder at me. 'And I, you.'

I rose up on my toes and kissed his shoulder. 'I know.'