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  The Needed

  The Needed

  Copyright 2018 Nikki Hunter

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover design by Amanda Walker PA & Design Services

  Editing by Proofreading by the Page

  The content of this book is protected under Federal Copyright Laws. Any unauthorized use of this material is prohibited. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without express written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales are entirely coincidence.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One – Cookie Cutter Day

  Chapter Two – Sweet Release

  Chapter Three – Unwanted Help

  Chapter Four – Lingerie Parade

  Chapter Five – The Tear

  Chapter Six – Poison

  Chapter Seven – Healing Touch

  Chapter Eight – The Fae

  Chapter Nine — Home Sweet Home

  Chapter Ten – A New Friend

  Chapter Eleven – Queen

  Chapter Twelve – Secrets Don’t Make Friends

  About Nikki Hunter

  Chapter One

  Cookie Cutter Day

  The day started the same as every other day. Literally. The dial on Camila’s traveler was stuck. Had been stuck for two years now, if she had calculated it correctly.

  There’s little you can use to track time when you don’t have a physical form. Ironic, considering she was tied to a clock.

  Right on time, the clock she was bound to chimed eight, as Mort, as she so fondly called him, walked in the door. The ding of the entrance bell rang in sync with the last chime of the clock.

  As he entered, he juggled a cup of coffee, the morning newspaper, and his keys. The even press of his brown dress pants and plaid shirt gave him a dated look.

  One of the three customers that visited the small antique shop called him Mr. Dolen when he thanked him after his purchase of an old diamond ring. She liked to think the customer planned on proposing to his longtime girlfriend this weekend.

  This weekend. Did it count as this weekend when reality had continued on without her? Had the lucky woman said yes? Perhaps they had already wed on the beach under the warm Hawaiian sun, Camila thought.

  Mort stumbled as he entered, dropping his keys while spilling his coffee with a curse. The word “fuck” was the first thing she got to hear uttered each morning. Not the warmest welcome, my friend.

  One day when she escaped this hell, it would be the first word she would welcome her new world with. Not that she had a clue how to make it end. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t adjust the traveler.

  So again… and again and again, she sat from her perch on the top shelf next to a clock with pictures of kittens on it, whom she had also named, keeping diligent watch of the shop. Phillis, the kitten clock, was Camila’s silent best bud. Her ticking was off from Camila’s but she felt as though it was only meant to complement her. Back and forth they went, keeping track of time.

  Each tick of the clock made her feel almost human. The sound reminded her of the rhythm of breathing. Though most of the time she didn’t notice it or even notice the chime every hour on the hour.

  In 3...2...1, Camila thought. On cue an elderly woman wearing a large frown strolled in. She ignored the polite welcome Mort offered her, while he wiped the coffee from his shirt, heading straight to the back of the store. Good morning, Beatrice. Yes, she’s named all the customers. What else would she do with her time?

  Perhaps today Beatrice had her panties in a bunch because she burnt her toast with this morning's breakfast. Which could really sour your mood when yesterday your house was torn in half by a tornado. Camila laughed to herself. She thought she was quite funny. She supposed she should, considering she was her only source of entertainment.

  Camila closed herself from the store, dimming herself into a sleep. She imagined Bruce, the man who picks up the diamond ring, to be marrying her and tonight was her honeymoon.

  Bruce would pick her up and carry her into the lavish hotel room their parents had purchased for them. Planting kiss after kiss along her neck. Camila imagined what it would feel like for the scruff of his bead to run the length of her throat with each gentle caress of his full lips.

  Inwardly she moaned at the thought. Though she had no physical body, she swore that a warmth began to pool between her legs. Bruce would gently stand her up before the plush king sized bed, his hazel eyes tracing every inch of her before he slowly peeled away her white dress.

  I deserve no white dress for what this body has done. She snorted between the thoughts of her day dream.

  The chime of the door rang again. However, this was not a sound that she anticipated. Bruce wouldn’t show up till about noon. Well this is different. Camila perked up.

  Slowly bringing herself out of the haze, she peered over to the door where four rather large and impressive men began to enter. Never in the past two years had this day been different. Always the same customers, the same routine.

  The doorway of the little shop could barely hold the frame of each man as they shuffled in. Camila smiled to herself, Lord have mercy on me. I’ve got myself a new day dream starring Mr. Handsome One, Two, Three, and Four. Oh, the things she could do to them. Something like joy, curiosity, and arousal began to churn within the clock. Bruce had already been replaced on her long list of lusted after men.

  “I can’t believe you dragged me here.” The first one drawled. His jet black hair stood up in a mess atop his perfectly squared face, those icy blue eyes rolling with annoyance.

  “I have to agree with Zayn, Lance. Why do you have such a weird attraction to antiques of this world?” The fair one asks. If Camila had lips, she would be licking them right now.

  “Well, you see, Yehven, antiques to me, are like chicken wings to you. Except I don’t eat them. Also, I love and cherish them for all time.” Lance, as they called him, stood taller than the others.

  Ok, so Zayn, Lance, Yehven… and? We have ourselves a mystery man.

  The final man had not yet spoken, and it didn’t appear as if he would. He casually had his hands buried within his jean pockets mostly, staring towards the ground.

  Yehven pushed Lance forward farther into the store, his lips turned down in displeasure. “Go ahead, do whatever it is you need to do and let's go. We are bound to get a call anytime now and I’m feeling a little pent up from all that time with no jobs.”

  If these men didn’t have jobs, how in the hell would they purchase anything? Despite her thoughts on their possible lack of fortunes, Camila still valued their sculpted bodies that were evident even through their clothing. For fuck’s sake men, let’s just get naked. Show me what you have hiding under those pesky clothes.

  Lance growled over his shoulder. A primal noise that seemed to only fuel the fire that had started to burn within Camila since they had appeared.

  Mort beamed as he saw the men, ushering himself out from behind the counter. “What can I help you lads with?”

  Lance cleared his throat, “I have a bit of a collection going and I was interested to see what you had that I might add to it.”

  “What are you interested in?”

  “Do you have any clocks?”

  Mort's face stayed soft but also seemed to shift to confusion. “Not often do I have such young folks interested in what I have in store. I will gladly show you what I have hiding, though sadly, I do not have many clocks.”

  Zayn pointed to Lance. “Trust me, he is the only one interested in this stuff.”

  Hey, don’
t worry, Lance. I’m sure I’m the only object in this room that is interested in you, too.

  Mort chuckled, motioning for the men to follow him. Camila watched with excitement as their steps brought them closer to her. When she thought they were men, she really meant it. Each muscled, their physique filled out just enough to complement their height, those muscles neatly packaged in their well selected wardrobe. She wondered if they were perhaps military as their steps were confident and graceful.

  “We have these two here. This one,” Mort picked up Phillis. “Was discontinued in the early nineties. Crazy how something from the nineties is considered an antique, huh?”

  Lance thoughtfully looked over Phillis, his hands gently running along the object.

  I swear to every god above, if you get picked over me to go home with one of these beautiful creatures, I will cut you. Hear me? I will fill up the space that holds those batteries you need to survive with concrete and draw really nasty things over each of those cats!

  Mort set Phillis down. Camila’s attention followed his movements as she sent her anger towards the other clock.

  “Now, this good ol’ boy here,” Mort beamed.

  Boy, so now I’m a boy? Excuse me.

  “I don’t actually know his date of manufacture but isn’t he a beaut’? Look at this fine gold trim over the mahogany woods. Though, I should tell you, even though he can tell time, his swinger isn’t good. Hasn’t moved since I’ve had him. But he is still a perfectly useful wall clock.”

  Lance’s eyes widen a bit as he looked her over. Camila did her best to lift her spirit as though she was perfecting the look of the clock with her efforts.

  “I don’t have one like this...” he mumbled to himself.

  “Yup, he is a good one.” Mort set her down. “We also offer some wristwatches, here below.”

  No, no, no, no. Don’t look at those, look at me. Camila shouted.

  The mystery man’s eyes locked on her as if he could hear her pleas. His heavily hooded eyes narrowed and peered up at her from under his long lashes. “Lance. Pick something, this place is giving me the heebie jeebies,” he said, his voice was rough and quiet.

  Lance pulled his gaze away from the rows of wrist-watches glancing up to his friend. “You are all so impatient. I always do whatever it is you want to do and when I finally get my chance to do what I want, you all just complain.” With a heavy sigh he grabbed up a wrist watch. “I’ll take this one.”

  Camila frowned. You are going to pick a watch over me? Are you blind, Lance? Even Mort said how much I should be appreciated. I have gold trim, and motherfucking mahogany. What does that watch have? Cheap metal.

  Again, the mystery man’s eyes shifted to the clock Camila was trapped in. His thin lips drawing down at the corners. As the group walked toward the cash registers, she could still feel the weight of his gaze. What is your deal?

  “I’m just gonna wait for you to finish, outside,” the unnamed one said as he backed towards the door.

  “Yeah, we will join Kade,” Zayn said, shrugging as he motioned for Yehven to follow.

  Oh lookie there. We have a name now. Not so mysterious man. Kade. I like it. I like how it rolls off my tongue. Ha. If I had a tongue.

  Camila watched intently as the three leave, trying to memorize every feature, every feather of their muscles as they walk and talk. Eventually Lance with the watch now wrapped around his wrist, the way Camila was yearning to be wrapped around his body, left.

  Zayn. Lance. Yehven. Kade.

  Zayn. Lance. Yehven. Kade.

  Zayn. Lance. Yehven. Kade.

  Camila was fading in and out of the haze of sleep. She waited for any other details of her day to provide a break to the endless drone of what she had known for two years, but it turned out she was not a very lucky being. The day continued just as every other day had and so did the next day. And the next.

  And the next.

  And the next.

  Chapter Two

  Sweet Release

  Today Camila had no interest in watching. She was still pouting to herself, concerned she had gone mad and envisioned those men. Content to fold herself into the dark internal haze, the only break she had from the continuous day.

  She didn’t pay any mind to Mort as he cursed and started his day. Nor did she give her attention to the ever-unpleasant Beatrice.

  As the day grew longer, she decided it was time for her daily nap. The corners of the dark haze began to fold around her, wrapping her up in a blanket of darkness.

  “I can’t believe you dragged me here.”

  Those words. That voice. It was them! Camila beamed and pulled out of the fog. Zayn. She could almost taste his name. Still as handsome as she remembered them. Inside the clock vibrated with her glee.

  “I have to agree with Zayn, Lance. Why do you have such a weird attraction to antiques of this world?” Yehven. The pale one with blonde curls that begged for her to touch. His voice was so low and rough, Camila bet he could sing.

  “Well you see, Yehven, antiques to me, are like chicken wings to you. Except I don’t eat them. Also, I love and cherish them for all time.”

  Lance. You, my smart man, can cherish me for all time, while Yehven snacks on me like he would a chicken wing, Camila mused.

  Then there was Kade. As if her thoughts were being shouted through a microphone Kade looked directly at the old clock. His hands were still hidden inside his pockets, the same laid back stance he wore before.

  Do I get these men as a treat just on occasion? Or is my mind playing tricks on me?

  Yehven’s muscular frame bore down on Lance as he pushed him forward farther into the store. “Go ahead, do whatever it is you need to do and let's go. We are bound to get a call anytime now and I’m feeling a little pent up from all that time with no jobs.”

  Lance growled over his shoulder at his companions. Again, that primal noise stirred Camila. A most pleasant and welcomed feeling amongst the boring antiques here.

  Mort’s smile grew as he saw the men, bringing himself out from behind the wooden counter. “What can I help you lads with?”

  Lance cleared his throat, “I have a bit of a collection going and I was interested to see what you had that I might add to it.”

  “What are you interested in?”

  “Do you have any clocks?”

  “Not often do I have such young folks interested in what I have in store. I will gladly show you what I have hiding, though sadly, I do not have many clocks.”

  Zayn pointed to Lance. “Trust me, he is the only one interested in this stuff.”

  Mort’s small laugh reminded her that soon they would be looking over her. Camila watched their graceful movements as they followed Mort. Each movement so fluid, it only made them more captivating.

  That one. Kade. He was still starring. Why is he starring more than the last time?

  “We have these two here. This one,” Mort picked up Phillis. “Was discontinued in the early nineties. Crazy how something from the nineties is considered an antique, huh?”

  Camila hissed in jealousy towards the other clock.

  Remember Phillis? They take you and you’re dead to me! Dead. To. Me.

  Mort took Phillis back, setting the object in its spot.

  “Now, this good ol boy here,” Mort said. “I don’t actually know his date of manufacture but isn’t he a beaut’? Look at this fine gold trim over the mahogany wood. Though, I should tell you, even though he can tell time, his swinger isn’t good. Hasn’t moved since I’ve had him. But he is still a perfectly useful wall clock.”

  Lance's eyes grew, peering over her. While she couldn’t help but stare back into his brown eyes.

  “I don’t have one like this,” he mumbled to himself.

  “Yup, he is a good one.” Mort sets her down. “We also offer some wristwatches, here down below.”

  Please. She begged. Please don’t leave me this time.

  Kade’s eyes darken from where he stood in the back of th
e group. “Lance. Pick something, this place is giving me the heebie jeebies.” He said, his voice was rough and quiet.

  “You are all so impatient. I always do whatever it is you want to do and when I finally get my chance to do what I want, you all just complain.” With a heavy sigh, he grabbed up a wrist watch. “I’ll take this one.”

  Camila moaned in frustrated annoyance. Again.

  “I’m just gonna wait for you to finish, outside,” Kade responded as he backed toward the door.

  “Yeah, we will join Kade,” Zayn said shrugging as he motioned for Yehven to follow.

  Forever alone.

  Fueled with a new anger, Camila shoved herself deep into the abyss of black. This must be a new way to torture her.

  Time continued on, ticking by as it always had, as it always would. Camila waiting for Bruce to venture in. At least there was one man that was a constant in her life. Familiar jingles of the door announced his presence. Her spirits lifted.

  The face that appeared within the doorway though, was not her Bruce, rather it was the one from earlier. Lance.

  What the fuck! He is back for more?

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  Mort looked up from the task he has taken up behind the desk, his usual smile creating wrinkles across his leathery skin.

  “Back so soon?”

  Lance chuckled, “Decided I couldn’t live without that nice clock of yours hanging with my collection.”

  “Go ahead and grab ‘em, son. I’ll get you rung up here.”

  With a nod of his head, Lance weaved through the other display items on the floor of the shop. His hands wrapped around Camila’s smooth wooden frame.

  ***

  “You went back for it?” Kade’s voice came out uneasy as he watched Lance hang the timepiece among the others.

  “Yeah,” he grinned, “you rushed me out too fast, before I could make a real choice.”

  “Dude, you don’t get it. Something is off with that clock. I can feel it.”

  Lance rolled his eyes rubbing at the stubble along his face.