The Keepers Story 01 - The Gatekeeper

his cheek. “Good story, don’t you think?”
    He nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but she kissed him, and that was the end of the conversation.
    * * *
    She was sleek and beautiful. She had skin like silk, radiated heat like the sun and demonstrated a range of passion to match the golden fires that burned in her eyes.
    Her kiss had the power to turn his blood to lava. She could move as if making love were the most exotic dance known to man, and she had the ability to make him forget himself and the world, leaving him absorbed in a feeling of wonder that they were alive and together.
    They lay in each other’s arms on the floor in front of a leaping fire, sated and spent.
    She turned and looked at him, stroking his face as he stared back at her in wonder.
    She smiled slowly. “News flash. Elven cop seen with Vegas entertainer. Can a true Elven find happiness with a half-breed werewolf?”
    He smiled. “I seem to be too worn-out to think of an answer.”
    She smacked his shoulder lightly. “Cut me some slack. I’m laying my heart at your feet.”
    He grinned and rolled on top of her. “You are half Elven,” he reminded her. “Making love...it’s a pretty amazing deal for the Elven, you know.”
    She touched him, intimately. Even now she could get him sizzling again, kindle another fire in his loins—and fingertips, muscles, tendons, blood, toes....
    “I know,” she told him wickedly.
    “I know I won’t ever let you out of my sight again,” he told her.
    They both jumped at a thunderous knocking at their door.
    “Get dressed,” he said to her, reaching for his jeans.
    A moment later he checked to make sure she was decent, then made his way to the door, checked the peephole and opened it, his expression a mix of welcome and surprise.
    Keeghan McMurtree smiled and walked in, accompanied by an entire group of Keepers. He immediately started making introductions. “This is Brad Thierson, Keeper of the New York City werewolves.”
    “And we’re all appalled by what Monty Reilly let happen in Vegas,” Thierson said.
    “I’m Eamon MacDonald, leprechaun Keeper, Dublin,” another man said.
    The introductions went on, with Calleigh standing behind Saxon, both of them confused as to what the hell was going on.
    “Think we can sit down?” McMurtree finally asked.
    Saxon nodded, and Calleigh led the way, seating them and asking if she could get them something to drink.
    “I’m not going to waste time here,” McMurtree said to Saxon once everyone was settled. “You’ve been chosen to head a new council.”
    “What? Why me? And what kind of council?”
    “A council of Keepers,” McMurtree explained.
    “But I’m not a Keeper,” Saxon said.
    “Doesn’t matter—hell, maybe your independence makes you an even better choice,” McMurtree told him. “You see the need for a centralized system of regulations, of checks and balances, the one to insist that the Keepers need to have the power to maintain control, so that they don’t fall prey to the powers of the very beings they are born to control.” McMurtree grinned. “All you have to do is set the date and the place, and Keepers from all over the world will be called to a summit. Bailey wanted a New World Order—well, we’re going to create one, and it’s going to be based on a code that’s fair and rational and backed up by the power of a worldwide network of Keepers. It’s complex. I realize that. But we need you—not just as a figurehead, but because of your ethics and your beliefs, your strength and your courage.”
    Saxon looked at Calleigh, awed, uncertain, even a little bit afraid of the responsibility that was being handed to him.
    “Put your money where your mouth is, big boy,” she suggested softly.
    He stood. He was being given the opportunity to be part of something that could change the world—and not only his world—for the better.
    “When do we begin?” he asked huskily.
    “In the morning,” McMurtree told him. “Invitations will go out across the world and a true governing council for the underworld races will become a reality.”
    With that announcement, McMurtree stood and pulled Saxon in for a hug.
    Moments later the visitors were gone, and Saxon looked at Calleigh. “Is it possible?” he asked.
    She slipped into his arms. “All things are possible,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his. “All things. Because I’m here, with you.”
    He took her into his arms. When she was with him, he realized, he