Sam woke before sunrise, glad to see a new day approach. He'd had dark visits all night, but couldn't tell if they were wish-fulfillment dreams or part of his psychic gift. Sam regarded his abilities in a way similar to victims of childhood abuse. The guilt and shame were ever-present secrets he tried to hide. He stroked himself for a few minutes, indulging the memory of delicate wrists knotted in yards of black cashmere, the look in her eyes when she knew there was no escape. Lengths of rope made heavy breasts bulge, split the crevice of her buttocks. He'd strummed the lines, listening for the music of her cries and the moment tears turned into sobs of ecstasy.
Sam felt himself barreling toward climax, but he squeezed the crown of his cock, denying himself release. He was sick. "And that, Sam," he gritted through his teeth, "is why you'll always be alone."
In the kitchen, Bobby was already brewing coffee and making a big skillet of eggs and potatoes.
"Morning, Sam. Sleep well?"
"Like a rock," Sam cracked, mimicking jerking off. "Seriously, is it me or is testosterone at an all-time high around here?"
Bobby laughed; Sam didn't usually make jokes. "Well, there's a pretty face around, but we've seen 'em come and go. May as well stick to what we do best."
Sam nodded. "Speaking of that, before grocery shopping last night I went back to search the warehouse. I'd never seen anything destroy a demi-god like that. Good thing, too—apparently that siren I'd heard wasn't for us. Police hadn't touched the scene."
"That was lucky," Bobby said, plunking two plates down on the table. They sat and ate. "What did you find?"
"More like what didn't I find. No weapon. And unless she's some master-level witch, no one could cast a spell like that."
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying there's more to our guest than meets the eye."
Bobby nodded. "This morning, on the farm report, they had news of a crop circle on the other side of town. Prime nymph omen—but Zena was knocked out all night."
"I'm going to hit the study today, see what I can find out," Sam replied.
The front door opened and Dean came in with a gust of cold air.
"Don't ask," he replied to their quizzical looks. He poured coffee and began loading up a plate. "You guys already ate?"
"Yeah," Sam said. "But leave enough for Zena. I'd have taken her something, but 'nobody touches her but you'."
Bobby's eyebrows shot up. "You said that? What's wrong with you, boy?"
Dean groaned. "Look man, I was tripping. I'm sorry." He began fixing Zena's plate, slicing up a tomato and cucumber salad to go with her eggs. Bobby and Sam shared a look of disbelief. It wasn't the apology. Dean breaking out fresh produce was reason enough for an exorcism. But when he sat down to eat, his appetite still came first.
"My game's been off, I know it. I've got it under control now."
"Good," Bobby said, pulling on his coat. "I've gotta run across the state line ta pick over a bunch of junkers. I'll see you all tonight."
"OK then." Sam hated any kind of conflict with his brother. "I'll be in the library for most of the day. Gotta see how to fight against these nymphs if they come around."
"You sure? We've got the No. 1 dryad killa in the house. Zena can probably handle anything a nymph throws her way," Dean exclaimed.
"Yeah, but it may be complicated."
"What's complicated?" Zena had padded down the hallway unseen.
Dean jumped up from the table, scraping his chair along the floor and shoveling half the food on his plate into his mouth. "I'm out," he mumbled through the eggs. "Text me what I need to pick up."
"Good morning to you, too," Zena said to Dean's fast-retreating back. "What's with him?"
"Oh, he's fine. Not freaking out at all," Sam said sarcastically. He sighed and stood. I hope this girl isn't more trouble than she's worth. "Eat up, I'll be in the study."
Zena sighted the covered plate on the countertop and dug in. She felt great, all things considered, even though her presence seemed to clear the room. She rinsed the plate, then retreated to wash up in the old-fashioned bathroom. Underneath the sharp scent of bar soap she smelled a faint trace of Dean, and something else. A woman.
Jealousy hit her like a sledgehammer. He'd turned her down when she was so hot she couldn't see straight, then went out and fucked someone else? She felt robbed. That tangy scent mingled with man cum on the air should have been hers. Pissed, she slammed the door.
In the daylight, the cabin revealed itself as more of a cottage in the woods. It was actually quite charming, with a huge stone hearth in the living room that dominated the layout. The rest of the rooms, the kitchen, bathroom and down a short hallway, the bedrooms, led off from the living room. At the opposite end of the hall, a shaft of sunlight fell directly onto a heavy wooden door, like a beacon.
Beyond the door was a fortress of books. Shelves and shelves of ancient texts lined every wall, up to the roof. In the middle, Sam sat at a large, carved desk, poring over a leather-bound tome.
She saw why his initial impression as a giant had stuck. His hair, longer and lighter than Dean's, hung down over his eyes. The book looked almost comical in his oversized hands. Even seated, the length of his body was as plain as the muscles under his flannel. He spoke without looking up.
"How're your ribs?"
"Achy, but improving." She walked around to peer over his shoulder at the spidery print. "This book looks like it's a hundred years old!"
The weight of her fingertips on his shoulder was feather-light, but Sam was acutely aware of it. She smelled faintly sweet and fresh.
"Three hundred," Sam said proudly. "But it's a translation of much older Greek mythology. I'm researching nymphs."
She zeroed in on the stack to his left. "Let me help."
They dove int¬¬o the investigation. Sam couldn't help but notice how motivated Zena was. Maybe underneath all the bad-ass warrior princess-ness, she was a dork like him. Or maybe there was something more to her interest. After an hour of reading, he sat back.
"So the nymphs use sex as a weapon, but it's a double-edged sword," he explained, trying to gauge her reaction. "They're stronger the longer they're celibate, but if they're hurt, sex helps them heal. The stronger the attraction, the faster they regenerate. But it can be dangerous for their human partners: they get obsessive, and sounds like they can have a permanent psychological break."
"They go zombie," she said flatly. "It's actually similar to what dryads do to nymphs. According to the lore," she added quickly.
"Right! My source says that many nymphs start out as human women too, at least until the dryad enslaves them. Then they get, like, Stockholm Syndrome. That might explain why no nymph came forward when you killed the dryad. Maybe you broke the spell and freed her."
Zena's whole demeanor changed. "Really? She might be free? Maybe she needs our help!"
