Hunting the Fairy Tale

Chapter 47 - Working Up to the Hard Secret

Willow

This morning, Hunter was kind enough to give me one of his gym bags when he saw me carrying a small canvas bag bulging uncomfortably with my gym clothes. I forgot to buy a bag for PE during our shopping trip on Saturday and found the barely-large-enough, reusable shopping bag in the pantry. 

He assured me that he has more gym bags than any normal person requires and is often giving some away. Apparently, the school's rugby teams and the MMA club regularly receive nice gear from sponsors. He even allowed me to pick one from his collection.

When school let out, Paisley and I left the showers together and joined the boys in the parking lot. Hunter took my bags, put them in the trunk of Aunt Beth's car and retrieved the motorcycle helmet he'd stored in there this morning.

"You guys can take the car, and I'll take Tan's bike if you want," he'd generously suggested, and Tanner was open to the idea. They left the decision to me, and I chose the motorcycle for two reasons. One, I thought that the bike and car exchange and re-exchange would be more trouble than it's worth, causing one or both of them to have to do extra driving. 

Two, I've never experienced Tanner's driving skills and thought that a motorcycle would be less problematic than a car since a car is bigger and could potentially land us in more trouble.

Clinging to Tanner's back while he drives the motorcycle as if we're travelling on the Knight Bus from the Prisoner of Azkaban movie, invisibly whizzing through muggle traffic, I am severely regretting that decision now. 

This is Tanner, for crying out loud! What was I thinking? That he would drive like 'a stuffy old granny?'

Yes, a car is bigger, and yes, our chances of surviving a car crash are also much bigger. I really have no sense at all. I'm pretty sure I didn't just want to cuddle Tan-Tan, as Paisley pointed out when I picked the motorcycle. I should've realised my mistake when Hunter looked as if I'd struck him when I said I'd like to ride the motorcycle.

Tanner handles the motorcycle the way he handles everything in life. Fast, close to the edge and a little recklessly. At least, that's what I think he's doing; I'm struggling to keep my eyes open to confirm. Riding with Asher had been liberating, and riding with Hunter a sensual overload, riding with Tanner is downright terrifying. 

I'm holding onto him so tightly that he might be running the risk of losing some of his ribs.

We come to a blissful stop at a red traffic light, and the hell-driver suddenly takes my hands in his own, his fingers gently massaging the cramps from mine. "Relax. I won't let anything happen to you, Priss," he says, and the sound of his voice sends calming waves pulsing through my heart.

I believe him.

In my defence, Tanner has the kind of voice any hypnotherapist would kill or die for. It is also the voice often associated with advertisements, featuring some dreamy man wearing nothing but well-oiled muscles enticing you to buy the ice cream melting down his fingers. I believed that man too when he told me that the no fat, no sugar, no taste ice cream he was selling would overwhelm my senses with its glorious flavour.

He lied.

I do, however, relax a little more when the motorcycle pulls away again. I soon realise that relaxing is not such a good idea either. The moment I'm not freaking out in terror, seeing every boring minute of my life flashing before my eyes, the succubus awakened in me upon my arrival in Briar Cove starts to revel in Tanner's own rather glorious flavour. 

It doesn't take me long to remember his glitter-splashed muscles, angelic smile and sweet kiss. I wholeheartedly believe that he might be the one in serious peril right now.