by L. R. W. Lee
“I lack wings…” My face warms. “… and I’m… mostly, fully clothed.”
His eyes start dancing, telling me he’d like to remedy that.
I cup another handful of water and send it at him.
He just laughs. “Allow me to explain.”
“I wish you would.”
“What you couldn’t appreciate being surrounded as we were by both the rain as well as wind shields is that they concealed any trace of our smell.”
“Was there a reason it needed to be concealed? Did I smell that bad?”
A corner of his mouth rises. “We were in pursuit of a creature who one could reasonably assume would be upset with us for divulging her secret. I deemed it advisable to use them until we’d located her because, yes, you reeked of secret magic.”
I force a frown. “So secret magic didn’t rig scoring us this room… with just one bed?” I raise an eyebrow.
He guffaws. Answer enough.
I’m unsure if I’m relieved or disappointed. He didn’t rig the hotel… to get me in bed with him.
“I appreciate the vote of confidence in secret magic, but there are many things it cannot do.” He glances inside, then back. “I figured we’d decide sleeping arrangements closer to time. That couch”—he nods at the sofa lining the wall inside—“folds out.”
My eyes go wide. “It… really?” I swivel to look at it.
He cracks up, and I can’t resist appreciating the sound as I study the sofa in question.
I turn back several seconds later. “Okay, I kind of get the shields, but what secret were you keeping by healing my bruises?”
His look turns serious, and he locks his gaze with mine, making my stomach tense.
What’s he thinking? The suspense is killing me as the seconds tick by. Will he tell me?
He finally looks away, at the water, and says, “I couldn’t stand to see you bruised, not when you’d gotten the marks trying to…”
“Fix the problems I created?” I look at my prune-y fingers.
“Yes.”
It’s touching. I feel cared for, something I haven’t felt in… years. But he hasn’t told me everything, that much is clear with that much hesitating. Disappointment fills me, and I force my shoulders not to droop.
What’d you expect, Pell, the guy to sweep you off your feet, confess his undying love to you, and propose?
No, of course not, I bite back. He wants me to trust him, he’s said so more than once, it goes both ways.
Silence reigns for a couple minutes, and the sound of the waves lapping the shore not far away, along with the chirping of cicadas fills the pause. The moon has risen, and its glow partially illuminates white fluffy clouds drifting by in the night sky.
“Now that the scrolls have been relocated—” Harpoc breaks the quiet. “—any idea what you might want to do?”
Thanks for reminding me that I’m unemployed.
I stare at the clear, aqua pool water, but my mind is as adrift as the couple of leaves floating on the surface and a feeling of emptiness fills me. “I don’t know.”
“For what it’s worth, I didn’t like Irik either.” It comes out a growl.
I look over at him and smile. There’s so much I don’t know about him, but he’s definitely been protective of me. Why? Yet another mystery.
“I don’t know where I’ll go. I don’t have a home, not really. Apart from college, that dig was as close to a home as I’ve ever known. I pictured most of the guys as idiot brothers. They sure acted that way.”
Harpoc raises an eyebrow. “Typical males?”
I snort. “Yeah.”
He leans back, draws his arms across his chest, and stares at the water. A pained expression flits across his face, then disappears.
“Sorry you put me out of a job?” I guess.
He looks up. “That’s not it.”
“Then what?”
He shakes his head.
I don’t hide rolling my eyes this time. What’s he not saying?
I look back up into the night sky. Between the moon’s glow and the ambient light from neighboring hotels, only the brightest stars stand out.
Just like life, I muse. I’d thought I’d found my place to stand out with that treasure trove of scrolls, but alas, no.
“What’s something you’ve never told anyone?” Harpoc asks, returning my attention.
Interesting question for someone so secretive.
“Why, so you have a secret on me?”
He snorts. “No, so I can get to know you.”
“If I tell you something, will you tell me something?”
He bobs his head. “Of course.”
“Wow, what deep, dark secret will the dark overlord reveal?”
I enjoy the sound of his chuckle as I think about what to share, and then an idea strikes.
You sure about that one, Pell?
I feel shy sharing it, but hey, go big or go home. He wants to get to know me ,and it’s definitely part of me.
“I always see eyes like yours when I'm afraid. They comfort me.”
Harpoc tilts his head. “What do you mean?”
“When I’m afraid, a pair of eyes, one gold, the other silver, appears in my mind.”
He draws his hand up and starts tapping his lips. I don’t yet know him well enough to pick up on his tells, so I can’t be sure if he’s schooling his features, trying to hide something or not, but the fact that his breathing stops for a second, makes me wonder.
“I’ve never questioned the origin of the image, but every time I picture those sparkling eyes, a very real and visceral calm falls over me.” I chuckle, more to myself than him. He must think me crazy. “I’ve always pretended it’s a powerful god looking down and smiling, assuring me everything will be okay.”
He stops tapping. “Well…” He exhales sharply. What’s that supposed to mean? “… that’s good that image helps calm you.” The way he says it makes it sound like he’s covering something, but what?
“So what about you?” I ask. “What’s something you’ve never told anyone?”
He thinks for only a second. “I enjoy getting away from everything and everyone during a new moon, going out where city lights don’t dim the night sky, and seeing all the stars.” His voice fills with wonder, and I can tell he’s envisioning it as he speaks. “There’s so many of them. They’re breathtaking.”
“That would be nice,” I say, trying to picture it myself. “You’ve never told anyone that before?”
He pats the water absently, then looks at me. “Never.”
“I’ve never really noticed the stars. I mean, I think they’re cool, but I guess I’ve never stopped to appreciate them, at least not like you.”
He smiles, and I know I’d like to experience the stars that way with him.
The cicadas have gone to bed it seems because their droning white noise has gone quiet. Only a cricket chirps, no doubt trying to seduce a lady friend or two. Typical male.
“Well, I’ve turned into a prune,” Harpoc says, looking at his hands, then over at me, a corner of his mouth rising. “What say we head on in and figure out sleeping arrangements?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
A mix of panic and uncertainty flood my mind.
I can’t help but notice my lady bits heat.
You’re a mess, Pell.
No kidding, Sherlock.
I bite my cheek as I scoot off the ledge and duck walk back to the stairs. Harpoc laughs as he sloshes up the steps and throws a towel around his shoulders, then opens mine and holds it out for me.
His eyes become bedroom eyes. He’ll wrap me up in his arms if I let him.
My heart flutters because I want him to.
My inner voice is quiet and I’m taking it as evidence that he’s seduced her, too.
I grab the silver railing and use it to help propel myself up the steps, then screech as the night air takes a bite out of me and my teeth start to chatter, but then I’m in Harpoc’s arms and
he’s holding me in the softness of the overlarge terry towel that comes nearly to my ankles.
Harpoc bends forward, and I think he may kiss my cheek, but in his baritone voice he says into my ear, “It’s hard to resist you awash in the scent of secret magic.”
Then don’t, my inner voice yells. I only barely stifle a laugh. He’s done it, he’s won her over.
“Got it?” he asks, standing tall once more. Wait, what? No, he’s not supposed to let me go.
I hug the towel closer as I crash and burn, and insecurities rise unbidden. I bite my lip as I follow him inside.
How do I misconstrue the situation so badly? Is he suffering from indigestion, and I’ve mistaken it for desire? I’m such a noob.
“I’ll change first,” I mumble and head for the bathroom, latching the door behind, then lean against it, my heart shrinking. Will it become two sizes smaller, like the Grinch?
Suck it up, Pell. You misjudged, you won’t die.
Then why does it feel like it?
“You’re hard to resist.” Harpoc’s words linger in my mind. Clearly I’m not.
I shrug out of the one-piece suit, towel off, and slip into the highly suggestive red lacey panties, and white T-shirt and sweats, then brush my teeth and dry my hair.
I take several deep breaths as I brush my hair out. Harpoc nuzzled me as we flew, I swear he did, or was that my imagination, too? How can I be so far off? Am I starved and desperate for affection? These and more questions I ask the redhead looking back at me in the mirror.
I don’t understand men, it’s that simple. They’re so much more complicated than I’ve thought. Or maybe it’s just Harpoc.
I hang up my wet suit above the tub to dry, then summon my courage because we need to decide sleeping arrangements when I emerge from this bathroom. He’s bigger, I’ll take the fold out sofa, and he can have the bed. I nod at my redheaded counterpart, firming my decision, then open the door.
But Harpoc’s beaten me to it. He’s sprawled out on the fold out atop a towel, in all his delicious, olive-skinned beauty, muscles bulging in all the right places, and my heart speeds.
But his feet dangle over the end by a good six inches. He’s not some giant, the sofa bed’s surprisingly short, and I can’t hold back a laugh.
“I’ll take the sofa. It’s fine.”
He sits up, grinning. “Nonsense, you’ll take the bed, I insist.”
I shake my head. “It’s too short for you. Really, I’ll take it.”
His expression turns serious. “Pellucid, you’ll take the bed.”
“The group home workers only used my full name when I really screwed up. Am I in deep doo-doo?” I joke.
He shakes his head, no humor to be found. “That’s a shame.”
“What’s a shame?”
“You have a very pretty name. It suits you.”
He’s complimenting me on my name? I can’t help myself; my stomach flutters despite the mixed signals he’s sending me. People usually assume my name’s some old family one that whoever chose it, did for unknown reasons or no reason at all; no one ever has a clue that it’s actually a word in the dictionary. “You know what it means?”
“Of course,” he says with surprising certainty, rubbing the scruff on his jaw. “Pellucid means ‘clear’ or ‘transparent’.” His sureness is weird, like what’s he do? Read the dictionary for fun? But before I can probe, he adds, “That’s you, Pell, you’re not pretentious. I appreciate that.”
Another flutter erupts. I’m so confused. I’ve no idea what to think.
“As for the bed, you’ll take it, I insist,” he adds, running a hand across his bare chest.
“Chivalry’s not dead?” I’d like to run a hand across his chest, too. I barely stifle a giggle, and Harpoc gives me a bemused smile, as if reading my thoughts.
Pell, get a grip.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I blurt, “That fold out’s too small for you, we’ll both sleep on the bed.”
My eyes go wide. OMG did I really just say that?
Harpoc tilts his head.
I backpedal, holding myself. “It’s the only arrangement that makes sense.”
Alarm bells wheeze in my brain. Stop, Pell, just shut up.
Harpoc chuckles. “Ever the practical one, I see.”
Why can’t I spontaneously combust when I really need to?
I draw a hand up to cover my burning cheeks. Damn traitors.
“Let me go change,” he says, standing and mercifully letting me off the hook before I say something more that I’ll regret.
He disappears behind the bathroom door, and I busy myself folding the sofa back up, attempting to make sense of my roiling emotions, but there’s no sense to them, I quickly discover. They are as stirred up as whacking a beehive with a stick, and equally dangerous because I don’t know what I might do or say next.
We’ll be sharing the bed. Eeeeep!
Pell, calm down. Breathe.
I’m calm, I’m calm, I keep repeating it to myself even though it couldn’t be farther from the truth.
I finish folding up the sofa, then hop up on the bed and realize I’ll be too hot if I don’t shed my sweats. But that’ll mean… ahhh.
My heart is beating a thousand miles an hour as I take my own dare and strip down to my bright red undies and white T-shirt, not that I’ll be getting much sleep with Harpoc in bed. I burrow in the soft sheets and draw the duvet up to my waist, then lean back into the pillows as if I’m calm.
Harpoc saunters from the bath a couple minutes later bedecked in sweats. I saw him in that robe before, and I have to say he looks amazing in white, against his olive-toned skin, it makes his dark features even more alluring.
“You cleaned up the room, I see.” He smiles. “You’re very domestic.”
I grin at his use of the line I used on him when he cleaned up my motel room. He remembered. Cha-cha-cha, goes my stomach.
He ambles toward the side of the bed I’m not occupying, removing his T-shirt as he does.
Oh, mama. He’s half naked.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he says as he discards the T-shirt, then the sweatpants on the floor beside the nightstand. “I get too hot. I can’t sleep in sweats.”
I swallow hard and do my damndest to keep my voice level, wanting, but not wanting to stare at him in only his black boxers. “Same here.”
“Good.” He grins as he slides into bed.
Thump, thump, thumpy, thump, thump. My heart can’t beat any faster.
“Thanks for offering to share, I’ll sleep better than I would have.” He reaches to turn off the lamp.
He thinks he’ll sleep? Yep, I definitely do not understand men.
“No problem, it just made sense.”
He lays back, adjusting the covers so his bare chest is still visible. “Well, good night.”
“Good night, Harpoc.” Despite my heart still surging, I switch off my lamp and nestle into the covers.
Ain’t no way I’m sleeping a wink.
_______
I jolt awake. Arms hug my waist, and my heart accelerates in an instant.
I squirm, but the hold grows tighter.
“You move a lot,” Harpoc mumbles in my ear.
Harpoc. I exhale. He’s spooned himself around me, and I’m his human teddy bear. My heart accelerates.
All that excitement dealing with Zephyr must have worn me out because somehow I fall asleep. And not just asleep, but dead asleep if he’s holding me thusly.
Harpoc doesn’t apologize, just keeps holding me against his nearly bare body, and a conga line starts in my stomach.
For once, I don’t try to figure anything out. I’m going to go with the flow and see where it takes me.
Now there’s a novel idea, Pell. Try, try again. You might actually get good at it.
I’m not awake enough to deal with my inner voice, not without coffee, and I don’t reply. Instead, I lean back into Harpoc’s chest and enjoy the feel of him.
The doorbell’s ring disturbs our coziness. “Who?”
“I scheduled coffee. I dislike the taste of room coffee. You might want to hide under the covers.”
I enjoy the sight as he slips out of bed and into his sweats, then heads to answer the door.
I take his advice and bide my time until the steward leaves again.
“Coast is clear.” He laughs.
He hands me a cup of java once I’ve leaned back in the pillows again.
“I could get used to this treatment,” I say, taking a sip.
Harpoc sets his cup on his nightstand and situates himself atop the covers.
“OMG, this coffee is so good, I might have an orgasm.” I inhale sharply, horrified.
Brilliant choice of words, Pell, because you’re so experienced with orgasms.
Harpoc guffaws. I’m guessing he’s experienced at least one, firsthand, from his reaction.
I scrunch up my face. “I’m sorry, I’m not awake. I can’t be held responsible, I’m liable to say about anything.” I clear my throat.
He partakes of the black gold and grins as he lowers the cup back to his lap.
This stuff is seriously the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.
“An orgasm, huh?”
My faces burns, and I cover it with my free hand. I want to burrow under the covers and never come up.
You’ll spill your orgasm-inducing coffee if you do, Pell.
I roll my eyes at my inner voice.
A minute of silence elapses, and I finally summon the courage to look back at my sexy companion.
His expression is serious, and I furrow my brows.
“We need to make a detour before we deal with Midas.” The words come out of the blue and remind me there’s a point to why we spent the night together.
With that expression, I’m almost afraid to ask, but I do. “What kind of detour?”
“The kind you’ll need to trust me implicitly.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
My stomach lurches. Has there been a point to him insisting I trust him? I thought he was just being overbearing, but I’m questioning in this moment.
I swallow hard, running my free hand across the soft, white bedding.