The evening wrapped me in a balmy hug. This time of year, the sun wouldn’t go down until nearly nine o’clock. I decided I’d take Ajax to a nearby park.
On the way, I called Jen, who assured me that everything at the shop was fine. The adjuster had come and gone and left her card for me. The window guy had taken measurements and would have a bid to me within a few days. Kenny had called an employee meeting for ten the next morning and then had started cataloging the destroyed pieces, taking pictures and tagging them with their assigned number in the ledger.
The man was a gem.
The park was only a mile from the hotel. It covered around forty acres and held within it a baseball complex, basketball and tennis courts, and a bunch of walking trails beneath a mix of oak, maple, and ash. Mosquitoes swarmed near the creek, so I took Ajax around the opposite side of the park, where the grass grew taller. Much to my relief, Ajax refused to go far from me, staying within a fifteen-foot radius.
He made the people around us a little nervous since he wasn’t on a leash and had such a wolfish appearance, so I decided not to stay very long. We’d cross the back end of the park and then head back toward the hotel. He wasn’t interested in any of the other dogs except to give them a perk of the ears and an assessing look. He was on guard duty. He wasn’t even distracted by the taunting squirrels.
I headed for the rose garden in the corner of the park where I planned to exit. I took the bark path circling around its border, breathing deep of the flowers’ rich perfume. That was one thing I still wanted to do: plant flowers and maybe put in a vegetable garden on the land behind the shop.
I’d nearly reached the parking lot on the other side of the rose garden when a young man stopped in the center of the path, looking around himself as if lost.
He turned when he saw me. I could see the confusion on his face turn to certainty.
“You’re her,” he said, taking a step toward me.
Ajax stepped into the path between us, a low growl rumbling in his chest, his head dropping low in wolflike fashion. The man stopped in his tracks.
“Do I know you?” I asked.
He shook his head, making a face as if that were a ridiculous question. “No. Of course not. You’d remember me. I make an impression.” He flashed a cocky smile, and I realized he probably wasn’t quite out of his teens.
He looked me over. “What happened to you? Did you fall into a garbage disposal?”
I glanced down at my arms. The cuts were mostly red welts, and the bruises were an ugly shade of yellow. I was remarkably healed, but I still looked pretty awful. I looked back up at the kid. “I had trouble using the can opener.” I didn’t crack a smile.
For a second he just stared, half believing me, and then he laughed.
“For an Osterraven, you’re funny. They don’t usually have a sense of humor.”
That caught me up short. I’d heard that name only once—earlier this morning when Mason had told me about my family.
“What did you say?”
“I said—”
“I heard you. How do you know who I am? Or where to find me?”
“The e-mail today. Once I got into town, it was easy to track you. You’re not even shielding.”
“What e-mail?”
“The one to the Proclamation Server. Early today. You know.”
I had no idea what he was talking about. “What did it say?”
“It said that a third child from the contract between Elena Wyler Symms and Ethan Osterraven had been located here. I go to college only an hour or so away, so I decided to come and find you.”
“Why?”
He clearly thought that was the dumbest question he’d ever heard. “Because you’re Osterraven–Wyler Symms and nobody knows anything about you. I wanted to get here first and get the scoop.”
I understood then. He wanted to be the one who’d met me and got to be the center of attention because he knew things others didn’t. I’d gone to high school with kids like that. They earned their glory by gossiping.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Ben Sharpentier.”
Clearly he thought his name should mean something to me.
“Okay, well nice meeting you, but I’ve got to get back.” I veered off onto the grass to go around him, Ajax trotting at my side. I put my hand on the dog’s back, maybe to grab him if he tried to lunge, maybe to reassure myself I wasn’t vulnerable. I’d told Damon I could protect myself, but the truth was, I didn’t know. I’d never had a reason to try to use my magic that way. Ben had found me because I wasn’t shielded. Who else was looking? Is that how the vandals had found the shop?
Too many questions and too few answers.
“Where are you going?” he asked, turning to parallel me, though giving Ajax a healthy cushion of personal space.
“And that’s your business how?”
“It’s not,” he said cheerfully. “But you don’t get answers if you don’t ask.”
He had a good point. “This Proclamation Server—what is it?”
Ben gave me a startled look. “You don’t know?”
“Of course I do. I’m also an idiot and ask questions I already know the answers to.”
He flushed and then grinned. “You’re funny. Okay. The PS is a way for all the families to contact the rest of the families.”
“So all the families know about me now?” This didn’t sound good.
“Whoever reads their e-mails. Well, texts too. You can get notified however you want. But yeah. Everybody’s buzzing about it.”
“Who sent the e-mail?”
“Said it came from Adriane Wyler Symms. That was weird because she’s been gone so long, I didn’t think she even had access to the PS.”
“She’s dead.”
“Really?”
“So if that e-mail came this morning, somebody else sent it.”
He nodded then shrugged. “Whatever. The thing is you exist.”
“Why’s that a big deal?”
He stopped and stared. “Are you kidding? You’re Osterraven and Wyler Symms.”
This conversation was beginning to give me a headache. It’s like we didn’t quite speak the same language. “So?”
“You’re of breeding age. Everybody wants a contract with the Osterraven and Wyler Symms clans.”
“They’re shit out of luck, then, because I’m not having anybody’s babies.”
He gave me a don’t be ridiculous look. “It’s not like you get to decide.”
“Excuse me?”
He shrugged. “You either contract or the family withdraws protection and whoever’s strong enough to capture you does and you end up doing it for free. Well, there’s a minimum payment for any child produced from any family, but it’s not that much, so if you’re going to have to do it anyway, it’s better to let the family negotiate and split the profits.”
By this time, I was both too shocked to speak and livid beyond words.
“That’s barbaric,” I said finally when I could find my voice.
“You’re not the only girl who thinks so, but what can you do? It’s the way things work, the way they’ve always worked. My family would love to get a baby on you,” he said as if all this weren’t disturbingly disgusting, though I suppose by definition, disgusting was disturbing. “But of course, we don’t have the money or other considerations to compete. You’re way out of the Sharpentier league.”
I stopped and faced him. “I am not somebody’s incubator and genetic WalMart. If and when I ever have a child, it’s going to be because I want one and because I love the father. Understand? Feel free to e-mail blast that out. In fact, give me your phone and I’ll do it myself.”
He laughed and dug in his pocket, tapping on his phone. “You’re one tough chick, you know? I think I’m going to like you a lot.”
“So long as you keep your dick to yourself, I might let you hang out.”
He laughed again and passed me his phone. The e-mail was open, and the cursor blinked in the subject line. I typed in Urgent and then tabbed into the body.
I hesitated. Did I go polite or get straight to telling them all to go fuck themselves? I elected to go the middle ground.
To Whom It May Concern:
I have less than no interest in having anybody’s children. Try to get into my uterus and I will castrate you and stuff your balls up your nose.
With all due respect,
Beck Wyatt
I hit the send button and handed the phone back to Ben. He read my e-mail and his mouth fell open, and then he started laughing again, having a hard time catching his breath.
“Oh my God,” he said. “The prim and propers are going to shit bricks.”
“Prim and propers?” I asked, but my thoughts went instantly to Mason and Aunty Mommy. That pretty much covered both of them.
“Generation moldy,” he said. “The ones who run everything.” He made a face.
“Why do you let them?” I asked as I started walking again.
He frowned then shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it.”
“Just say no?” I asked.
“They’d cut me off.”
“So what?”
That made him think a moment. “I don’t know. Probably wouldn’t be so bad. I mean, once I get out of college and get a job. But your friends would have to pretty much shun you. Same with the rest of the family. Plus, they would probably have some magical punishments.”
“Does anybody ever say no?”
“Not really. I mean, not and goes through with it. Like I said, it’s what we do.”
I snorted. “You don’t. The girls do. All you men do is get your rocks off. I’m surprised the women in your families haven’t revolted. I sure as hell would have.”
He sobered. “There’s a lot of pressure put on them. All of us. To strengthen the bloodlines so we’re prepared.”
“Prepared for what?”
“The histories talk about a split that happened centuries ago, where the ruling families got into a fight, and just when war was about to break out, one side managed to destroy many of their opponents. Some lost their magic; others, their lives. The losers who survived were cursed never to be able to have more children. Their lines would end with them. The winners went back to business as usual. But then, on her deathbed, Olirya Siddiqui had a vision. She was a powerful seer. She said that in the future, those we thought we destroyed would rise again and with them would come pain and destruction.”
“So everybody believed her, and all the leftover families got together and decided to breed for magical strength so when the other team shows up, you can overwhelm them before they cause all sorts of mayhem,” I said, seeing where he was going.
“Pretty much.”
“And your whole life, you’re told that the fate of the world rests on your cooperation and participation.”
He nodded. “Especially since a magic war would bleed over into the mundane world and cause all sorts of disasters. The cursed-bloods never cared about ordinary people and didn’t mind slaughtering them.”
“Did it not occur to anybody that this Olirya might have had a tumor or a stroke or Alzheimer’s?”
“The writings of everybody who was there say she was coherent to the last.”
“All the same, you people are seriously fucked up,” I said. “Now I know where Aunty Mommy got it from. You’re all demented.”
“Aunty Mommy?”
“The bitch who stole me and tortured me all my life,” I said. “Adriane Wyler Symms is her real name, I guess. She told me she was my mother, but turns out she was my aunt. Hence, Aunty Mommy.”
He nodded. “The e-mail this morning said something about that. Up until then, nobody knew you existed or that Adriane had taken you when she disappeared.”
I wondered what my sperm donor had said when he found out I was gone. Or even if he asked. Since I was his special secret, how could he demand they produce me?
We walked a little bit with neither of us speaking.
“Listen,” Ben said. “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but you should really think about shielding yourself if you don’t want everybody descending on you like, well, like me.”
“I’m in the phonebook,” I said dryly. “It’s not like I’m that difficult to find. And anyway, I don’t know how to shield.”
His eyes popped wide. “Seriously? You don’t know how? But that’s the first thing any of us learn, practically before we’re out of the cradle.”
I shrugged, not wanting to explain that I’d hidden my magic from Aunty Mommy and that even if she’d known about it, she wouldn’t have taught me anything. Not if she could help it.
“Can you show me this shielding thing?” I asked.
“Sure. I guess.”
I stopped again, sitting down on a bench in front of a little bistro. Ajax flopped down beneath me. “Show me now.”
“Okay. Well, there’s no one way to do it. The best way is to cast a spell and anchor it to something you carry around. A necklace or a bracelet or a ring or something. That way it keeps working and you don’t have to pay much attention to it except to recharge it every so often.”
“I don’t know how to cast spells. What’s another way?”
He blinked his surprise at my confession but didn’t freak out, which saved him from having me kick him in the shins. I got the point. I was a magical mutant. Get over it already.
“You make a bubble of magic around yourself and then tell it to keep you hidden from a magical search.”
“Just like that.” I snapped my fingers.
He shrugged. “Mostly magic is in the intent—you know, focusing your desires and excluding all your other thoughts. That’s really tough to do. I mean, have you ever tried meditating? Your mind is always running off in interesting directions and you have to drag yourself back to clearing your head. Magic is the same way.”
“Oh.” In fact, most of the time I just decided what I wanted to do and made it happen and didn’t really think about how or why it worked. I guessed I had good natural focus.
“Now there are two things to remember. You have to make sure that your magic encloses all of you. A lot of beginners just stop at the ground and forget the bottoms of their feet. Second, you have to keep feeding the shield with magic or it will vanish on you.”
“I can chew gum and walk at the same time.”
“Don’t worry if you don’t get it at first. It can take weeks to master. Most of us learn young so our parents or minders can’t find us when we don’t want them to.”
“Minders?”
“You know—nannies, tutors, babysitters—that sort of thing.”
“Oh. Sure.” I was beginning to be less annoyed that I’d been kidnapped from his world. At least I’d had a reasonably normal childhood ... if you didn’t count the torture stuff.
“Try it,” he said. “Wait.” He looked around. Pedestrians strolled the sidewalks, and the little courtyard of the bistro behind us was full. “You should wait until you’re in private. You don’t want people to see you doing it. They tend to freak.”
I frowned. “What’s to see?”
I let magic flow out around my feet, and in a gesture that looked a little bit like a ballerina, I dropped my hands down to my sides and raised them up until my fingers met. The magic rose with it and swirled together. I dropped my arms and lifted my feet one at a time to close the bubble.
Okay, then. One part down. I narrowed my gaze, concentrating on the notion of shielding myself from other magic. Ben was right. Once you wanted to concentrate, you started thinking of everything else, such as the itch on the bottom of your foot and how exciting it was going to be to try to put back together a bunch of gargoyle penises.
I made myself focus again. It took me a minute or two, but I finally felt something sort of snick into place. The bubble around me expanded and then contracted against my skin.
“Wow!” Ben leaned back, wide eyed. “That’s really cool. Your magic is invisible.”
“Yeah, well, everybody knows that now you’ve practically shouted it to the world,” I said. A couple walking toward us was giving us a wary look, probably looking for errant pentacles and a tattooed 666 on my forehead.
“Oh, right. Sorry,” he said, flushing. “But wow. It worked too. I can’t pick you up anymore. You’re pretty talented, but then you’d have to be with your bloodlines.”
I was starting to feel a lot like a broodmare. Not going to happen. “How close do you have to be to someone to find them with magic if they aren’t shielding?”
“Depends on the practitioner. I can be a few miles away. Other people have to be within a hundred feet, and others could be a hundred miles away.”
“So I keep feeding it. Do I have to keep telling it what to do?”
“Shouldn’t. Not so long as you don’t let it collapse. If you do that, you have to start all over again. It will disappear on you when you go to sleep or pass out. That’s one reason to use a spell. Those don’t shut off when you sleep.”
“Good to know.” I stood. “Thanks for the help, but I have to get back.”
He looked disappointed. “Already? But we’ve only just met.”
I had to wonder why he was so interested in me. Probably he wanted more juicy details to relay to friends and family.
It had only been an hour and a half or so since Mason and Damon had gone shopping. I doubted they were back yet. It was still quite some time before sundown.
“I could use some coffee,” I said finally.
We walked up to a little coffee cart and then ambled along with Ajax in between us. He really didn’t like Ben being too close.
“You’re going to college?” I asked.
“Pre-med,” he said. “If I can make the grades, anyhow. Then I want to get into neurosurgery.”
“Wow. Impressive.”
“Not if you ask my grandmother and mother. I don’t need the money and anything I can do with a scalpel I can do with magic, so why bother?”
I glanced at him. “Is that true? I mean, healing with magic being just as good as using a scalpel.”
“No. Healing is hard and takes a lot out of you. I couldn’t do that for too many people before I’d be in a coma myself. Plus, I’m pretty sure if I knew what I was doing medically, I’d be able to use magic more effectively. I think I could pair magic with surgical skills and really do some good work.”
His enthusiasm was obvious. “But your mother and grandmother don’t think it’s worthwhile?”
Ben’s face fell. “They don’t see the point. We all share the world with mundane people, and we protect them from magic, but other than that, nobody thinks they’re worth anything. I like people and I really want to help them. If I can save people, make their lives better, and keep their families from heartbreak, I want to do it.”
I smiled at him and patted his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Charlie Brown.”
He flushed. “You don’t think it’s stupid?”
“I think it’s pretty damned awesome. The world needs more people like you. Your family ought to be proud of you. I’ve only known you less than an hour, and I know I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks,” he said and looked away, and I swear he was tearing up. Poor kid. His mother and grandmother needed a come-to-Jesus meeting.
“Have you got any more family? Besides your grandmother and mother?”
His father was also a sperm donor, and he had five sisters and brothers, all with different fathers. He also had half a dozen aunts and uncles and a bunch of cousins, plus some nephews and nieces. “Of course, that doesn’t include anybody who was contracted out to another family,” he said. “I grew up mostly in Connecticut, but the family has houses in other places. I live in the City. I go to school at UCSF.”
In northern California, ‘the City’ always referred to San Francisco, as if it were the only one. I was willing to bet that in New York, the City was always New York City. Likewise with Chicago in Illinois and Seattle in Washington.
“Tough school,” I said.
“One of the best. But so far I’ve pulled straight A’s, except for a B in Latin.”
“Latin?”
“A lot of medical terminology is Latin based, so I figured it would be useful.”
“Why the B and not an A?” I ask curiously.
He sighed. “I missed the midterm when my mom called with an emergency.”
From the sound of his voice, I could tell he was angry about it.”
“What was the emergency?”
“Meeting a potential contract.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“How did that go?”
“She’s eight years older than me, and this would be her fifth kid. It would belong to my family.”
“You’d have to leave school to raise the kid?”
He shook his head. “Not according to my mom, but if I’m going to have a kid, I’m going to raise it.”
“Good for you.”
I had to admire him. He was absolutely dedicated and clearly not an ounce of meanness in his body. He also wasn’t selfish, and he clearly had a big heart.
“I’m glad you came to meet me,” I said. “You’re all right.”
He flashed a smile at me. “I’m glad too.”
We wandered back toward the hotel. By the time we got there, I was pretty sure he and I were going to be good friends.
We stopped outside the hotel.
“This is my stop.”
“When can I see you again?”
“What the hell is going on?” Damon came bursting out of the doors. “Where have you been? I thought you—” He glared at Ben. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m a Sharpentier,” Ben said, not backing down from Damon’s dominating presence. “Who are you?”
“Matrovani.” Damon turned to me. His face was tight with emotion, his eyes churning. “I told you not to leave.”
“Ajax needed a walk.” I had a hand knotted in his ruff in case he decided to attack Damon again.
“You should have let him pee in the damned suite. How can you be so stupid?”
The last was nearly shouted. Despite the fact that the question burned through me like a bullet, I didn’t flinch.
Ben started to step between us. Damon planted a hand in the center of his chest and shoved.
“Get the hell away from her.”
People were stopping to rubberneck. I was so angry, I could barely see straight. Ingrained habit pulled it inside and shaped it into walls. I wrapped my heart around the pain of his words and the bitterness of my anger and let them strengthen me the way they’d always carried me through Aunty Mommy’s tortures.
I turned to Ben. “It was good to meet you, and thank you for the lesson.”
With that, I turned around and walked away. Damon caught my arm to pull me around, and Ajax lunged, snapping and growling. I pulled him back before he could bite.
“No, Ajax,” I said and I felt magic roll off me. He stilled but stared at Damon, warning in his eyes. I’d stopped him, but I knew if Damon came at me again in anger, Ajax would attack and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.
“I’m leaving,” I said. “You can go to hell.”
I started walking again. I had no idea where exactly I planned to go. I had my phone, though. Stacey was working, but Jen and Lorraine would both come and get me.
Damon dodged around me and blocked my path. “Beck. Stop.” His anger had mixed with something else. Concern maybe. Didn’t justify anything.
“I’ve got nothing left to say to you.” My voice sounded dead. It was the same one I’d always used with Aunty Mommy. If I didn’t have emotions, she couldn’t read what hurt and what didn’t; she couldn’t figure out when her attacks were successful and not.
“I was worried,” Damon said. “All of a sudden you vanished off the radar, and I couldn’t find you. I didn’t know if someone had taken you or if you’d been killed.”
The shield. That had to be what he was talking about. Still didn’t justify anything.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ve got to go.” I started to step around him again. He sidestepped but was smart enough not to touch me.
“Please listen to me. Please try to understand.”
“You know, I get that you think I’m helpless and that the Big Bad Wolf is lying in wait around every corner. I get that you think you know better than I do how to live my life. That I’m too stupid to survive in the big bad world of magic. I don’t agree, but I get it. But you seem to think all that entitles you to actually run my life for me, and you don’t give a shit how I feel about it. For you, the end justifies the means no matter the cost. I’m tired of being the cost. I’m done with it. Get out of my life, and stay out of it.”
The words hurt to say. I liked Damon. I liked him a lot. Maybe more than I wanted to admit. But I wasn’t going to be a pawn in the genetic contracts game, and I didn’t need another bully shoving me around. I understood there was danger. I really would be stupid if I didn’t believe that, not after Aunty Mommy’s curse, the destruction of my shop, and the avalanche of gargoyles. That didn’t mean I was going to spend the rest of my life jumping at every shadow and hiding in a hotel room. When I’d taken Ajax out, I’d considered the danger and decided with a lot of people around and during the daylight, I was reasonably safe. Especially with Ajax at my side and my own magic to defend myself.
“Why can’t you just believe in me a little bit?” I burst out, losing the war with my emotions. “Why can’t you give me the slightest benefit of the doubt when it comes to keeping myself safe? You know, I broke that curse. Me. All by myself. And sure, maybe something bad would have happened to me if I’d been home when the vandals hit, but there’s just as good a chance I’d have sent them straight to hell in a handbasket. Same with the gargoyles. I was perfectly capable of getting clear.
“Ever since I met you, you’ve treated me like the village idiot. I can’t think for myself, I can’t protect myself, and I sure as hell can’t be allowed to live my own damned life the way I want. I’m sick and tired of it.”
He looked a little sick at my outburst. Maybe I’d hit a nerve. Good. Now he could be the one feeling stupid and upset. He angled his face away from me and visibly collected himself, keeping his head averted as he replied in a low, tense voice.
“I know you’re powerful. Probably more than either side of your family realizes. I know you’re smart, tenacious, stubborn, brave, and capable. I know it.”
He tapped the side of his head to emphasize it. Then he turned to look at me, and his gaze was so hot, I nearly incinerated on the spot.
“I do know it,” he said softly. “But here—” He knocked his fist against his chest. “Here I’m terrified for you. Jesus, Beck, I’ve had to watch you nearly die. I’ve seen you hooked up to a transfusion in a hospital bed, and I’ve sat by your bed, listening to you breathe and praying you didn’t stop. It doesn’t matter what I know here.” He knuckled his forehead again. “I can’t— If anything happened to you—”
He broke off again. I just stared at him with my mouth hanging open, trying to make sense of his words, but I couldn’t compute them. Not even a little bit.
He reached out, cupping my cheek and brushing my lips butterfly gentle with his thumb. “God damn it. You don’t have to look so surprised. I haven’t exactly made my attraction to you a secret.”
“Attraction,” I parroted. “Sex. That’s all.”
He scowled and his hand yanked back as if scorched. “Is that what you think?” he demanded, sounding as though I’d just called him the worst name on the planet.
Yes. I thought the better of saying it. Instead I went with the big question. “Then what do you want?”
He hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands into his front pockets as if he didn’t trust himself not shake me. “You really want to know? Because I don’t know if you can handle it.”
I recoiled. “Handle it?” Was I some child incapable of the hard truths? He did not just say that. “There’s nothing you can dish out I can’t take, big boy. So why don’t you get over your bad self and just lay it out for me.”
“All right,” he said, jaw thrusting out, blue eyes locked on mine, not letting me look away. “I’m in love with you.”
I blinked, feeling about as shocked as George Clooney finding out he’s pregnant. “Say what now?”
He snorted and rolled his eyes as if I’d just confirmed his low opinion of my ability to deal with his confession. I felt about two inches tall. He stepped closer so I had to look up at him, his eyes lasering into mine with all the intensity of a sun going nova.
“I love you, Beck,” he rasped in that voice you use to tell somebody to fuck off and die. “Maybe I’m too protective. Hell, I am too protective.” He gripped my upper arms, ignoring Ajax’s baleful growl. “Don’t wall me out. Give me a chance. Teach me how to make you happy. I swear on all that’s holy that I will earn your trust.”
I think the feeling in my chest was the kind you get when you’re kicked by a mule. The breath went out of me, and all I could do was stare. He loved me? He loved me?
My head spun as I tried to make sense of my emotions. I was still pissed. But wonder pushed back against it. Wonder and shock and maybe a little panic. Okay, a whole lot of panic. Love? Seriously? The raw fear and hope on his face said that he was deadly serious.
Did I love him? I didn’t even know what it was. Except—I loved the girls. I loved Ajax. And Damon—
“I really like it when you kiss me,” I said, perfectly inanely, giving a great deal of credence to his accusation of stupidity.
He stepped closer so that only a few inches separated us. “I really like kissing you.” One hand came up to stroke the hair from my face. “Don’t go. Don’t walk away.”
“I don’t know if—”
He pressed his fingers to my mouth to block the words. “You don’t have to,” he said. “You never have to.”
Then his lips replaced his fingers. He didn’t hurry as he explored with his tongue. His touch was tender and possessive. His arms slid around me and nestled me against him. My body melded to his. I could feel the thunder of his heart. The smell of him—spicy and earthy—swept over me, spinning me out of control. I slid my arms around his neck and stood on tiptoe, pressing into him.
He made a sound in his throat and deepened the kiss. His touch was seductive, with an edge of desperation that melted any resistance I had, which wasn’t much. I didn’t hold anything back.
I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t doubting or questioning or anything else. All I was doing was feeling. Ripples of heat and desire rolled through me, and want settled heavy in my belly. My breasts ached to be touched and held. The hard plane of his chest only teased them, making them ache more.
He stroked my back as if to be sure I was real, and then his arms crushed me tighter and tighter. I could barely breathe, and I didn’t care. I was lost. My blood throbbed in my veins. I wanted his touch. I craved it. I ached to feel the slide of his skin against mine. I longed to explore his body, slide my tongue along his neck, down the seam of his stomach, along the inside of his thighs.
We might have started stripping clothes off each other except for the loud cough that broke through our delirium.
“I hate to be a wet blanket, but you two do realize this is a public sidewalk, do you not?”
Mason.
I stiffened. Well, as much as limp spaghetti can stiffen. Damon lifted his head.
“Don’t regret it,” he said. His eyes pleaded.
I still couldn’t wrap my head around his declaration of love. It’s not that I didn’t believe it. Or that I did. But more that it had happened. That this was even real.
“I don’t.” And I didn’t. Not the kiss. Not his words. I held them inside like blown glass snowflakes. I wanted to examine them, understand them, cherish them. I wanted to believe that they were real and wouldn’t melt away into nothingness the moment I trusted them.
“It’s getting dark,” Mason prodded.
I twisted my head to look at him. Ben stood smiling broadly at me just behind him. I flushed then realized I was already so overheated that nobody would be able to tell the difference.
“We’ve got to get going,” Mason said, prompting us when we just stood there in a daze.
At his words, I nodded. I started to step away from Damon. He tightened his grip on me and then slowly he loosened his arms. He slid a hand down my arm and threaded his fingers through mine. I stroked Ajax’s head, soothing away his confusion and ire.
“Do you need anything upstairs?” Damon asked, his thumb turning seductive circles on my palm.
“Not that I know of.”
“Then let’s go. The truck’s across the street.”
Mason turned to lead the way. Ben looked uncertain.
“Do you want to come with us?” I asked.
Mason turned to frown at me, but I ignored him. Ben didn’t. He glanced at Mason and then Damon and then back at me.
“Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. Though it isn’t going to be much fun. We’re going to repair gargoyle statues and it involves piecing their giant penises back together, along with everything else that broke off.”
He stared at me as if waiting for the punchline. Another look at Mason and Damon and then back to me. “Statues or the real thing?” he asked.
“Real,” Damon said.
My head jerked up. “What do you mean?”
He sighed. “I mean that your aunt imprisoned real gargoyles and what we’re doing tonight is more like healing than repair.” He hesitated, weighing his words. “In order to completely fix them, we have break the bonds your mother put on them. They’re probably going to be pretty wild with anger. They might be violent.”
“Gargoyles don’t know what a good mood is most of the time anyway,” Ben said. “I’ll help if I’m welcome.”
“You are,” I said and glared first at Mason and then Damon, daring them to contradict me.
Damon just tightened his grip on my hand. Mason grimaced and started for the truck.