“You’d be surprised. They’ll probably fight over him and spoil him rotten,” Rose predicted.
Layla was startled by a flash of movement just outside her open window. Her hand left the photographs on the table and traveled to the gun at her waist. “One sec, Mrs. Kalgren—stay on the line.” Withdrawing her gun, and holding her baby close to her chest, Layla moved across the room, putting her back to the wall near the window. She shifted slightly, peering through the crack in the drapes. Layla was shocked to see a strange woman hovering in the air near the window of her daughters’ room. Nyssa was staring up at her and sniffling.
“Don’t move!” Layla shouted, pointing her gun at the woman. “Hands in the air—back away from the window!”
During the second of hesitation, Layla felt her body tense up, and adrenaline pump through her as she observed the woman’s lean, muscled figure underneath a green bodysuit. When the woman turned her head toward Layla, it almost appeared to happen in slow-motion. The investigator gasped, nearly dropping her gun and her baby. She saw a familiar pair of hazel-green eyes sending her a heart-rending look. A second later, the woman had disappeared. Layla shoved her gun back in its holster and rushed to her phone, picking it up from the table and pressing it to her ear as she strode toward the girls’ room. She held her baby tightly against her chest, and the little boy seemed to be confused by the sudden change in her manner.
“What the hell is going on?” Layla yelled into her phone. “There was a female deva… Mrs. Kalgren, you’re the only one who knows my location!”
“I’m sorry, Lay—shit,” Rose cursed. “I have to go. Don’t worry—you’re safe.”
“Mrs. Kalgren!” Layla shouted, but the older woman had already ended the call. Shoving the phone into her pocket, Layla rushed through the hallway and into the girls’ room. She shoved her infant son towards her older daughter, and knelt at Nyssa’s side. She placed her hands on Nyssa’s shoulders. “Are you okay, sweetie? What did she say to you?”
“Olive was being mean,” Nyssa said with a sniffle. “Olive ruined my favorite green dress. But the nice lady said not to cry, because you bought me two of them. Is that true, momma?”
Layla swallowed and nodded slowly. The girls always ruined their clothes, and she often purchased multiples of the same outfit just in case. She glanced at the window nervously, having her fears confirmed.
“Were you gonna shoot her, momma?” Nyssa asked curiously. “The lady said lime green is her favorite color too. She said another word for it is ‘chartreuse.’”
“Chartreuse!” Layla said weakly. “She was giving you a vocabulary lesson?”
* * *
Asher had left a few of his things at her place, and this was probably the best time to get them. At least that was his running excuse. The mistress of the house wasn’t in the dimension, and he felt like he should use the rare opportunity to be close to her without her knowledge. The items he had left behind were not really of any importance; some of his favorite clothes and such were probably lying in the drawers or hanging in the closets. Nevertheless, he never intended to collect these items—for if he did, he would no longer have an excuse if he was caught.
Asher lifted his hand shakily and inserted the key in the door. He turned the key, followed by the knob, and pushed the door to enter. He immediately punched in the security key code as the alarm started beeping in warning. As he entered the digits on the keypad, he wondered worriedly if she’d changed the code yet, but when the lights stopped blinking and the alarm stopped beeping, he breathed a sigh of relief.
She hadn’t changed the passcode. The numbers still corresponded to his birthday.
He knew that he should not find significance in this; it was probably just due to laziness. Part of him was determined to use this as a sliver of hope. She did still have to punch it in every time she entered her house... wouldn’t it be disturbing to do so if she hated his guts and wanted to skin him alive? Had she forgotten what the numbers meant and just keyed them mindlessly out of habit? Or did she think of him each time she entered the digits and inwardly cringe? Amara kept extremely expensive equipment in her basement laboratory, and the alarm system was important.
Asher closed the door gently behind him, feeling like a stranger in the house he had lived in short weeks ago. He felt like a breaking-and-entering Goldilocks. Regardless, out of habit, he took off his shoes and put them in the place where they had always gone before. Had she intentionally kept that spot empty? Sakra knows she has enough shoes to fill up my spot and then some. He sighed, floating up the stairs, reminding himself not to leave any more evidence of him being there than was absolutely necessary.
He entered the room which used to be “his” room—regardless of the fact that he’d never slept in it. He’d kept some of his clothing there, but there hadn’t been much space. Amara’s fashion collection filled every room of the house, including the guest suites and the closets of the basement laboratory. Not that Asher had ever been allowed down into the basement; it was Amara’s “private space” where she liked to play mad-scientist all by her lonesome. She demanded no interruptions so that she could maintain absolute concentration.
He found a smile coming to his face as he thought of her adorable quirks. He then reminded himself why he was there. Asher noticed that the bed in “his” room had been recently slept in by someone very messy who hadn’t bothered to make the bed before leaving in a hurry. He approached the bed, and could judge from the way the pillows were arranged, and from the scent that assailed him that it was his very untidy niece that now occupied these quarters.
Something about the scent made him pause for a second. He sniffed the air curiously, trying to place the scent—where had he come across that before? It was Pax but... there was something different in it. It was subtle, but somehow familiar. It smells sweet yet... musky? Burnt sugar, maybe. I can't quite describe it... Now where have I smelt that before?
Asher shrugged, but the longer he tried to determine the scent the more it seemed to invade his nostrils. Maybe the girls are using the same body lotion or something. Girls are weird like that. Before the aroma became too overwhelming, Asher left the room and found his feet carrying him naturally to Amara’s bedroom. He entered, feeling his heart ache with the memories that flooded him.
Amara’s fragrance now engulfed him, and he felt much more comfortable inhaling that welcomed, recognized aroma. It smelled like home. It was sweet torture. Sakra, how I’ve missed her. But she can never know. I should really just grab my clothes and leave.
Amara’s bed was neatly made up, unlike Pax’s. He walked over to it, and stood there for a moment. He ran his hands over the duvet, and felt suddenly very angry with himself. He felt anguish tug at him, and he closed his eyes. He had no idea how long he’d stood there, simply breathing in Amara’s scent and fingering the duvet.
Like lemon meringue pie. Like vanilla bean ice cream. Like my deva princess. His eyes snapped open. I should really just get my clothes and leave. This is creepy and weird.
He told himself this as his hands tugged the fluffy duvet back, and he slipped off his socks and placed them on the bedside table. Just as he’d done hundreds of times before. He eased himself down onto the bed so that he could be surrounded by her scent. He turned and buried his face in the pillow, inhaling deeply.
Vincent was right when he said that I was retarded for leaving his daughter. I don’t know how I’m going to live with this decision. Anyway, I don’t need to live with it right now. I can pretend nothing’s wrong. Just for a few minutes, I'll pretend she's beside me. Just on the other side of this giant king-sized orthopedic bed.
A smile came to his lips as he vividly imagined the unfolding scene. At any moment maybe she'll turn over and hug me, or snuggle against my side. And she'll mutter something unintelligible but endearing. And I'll say something boring and uninspiring like:
“Get some rest, my angel. We have a long day tomorrow.” Or maybe I'll say, “Sweet dreams,
Mara. I love you.” And maybe I’d kiss her forehead or her hair. Depending on how awake she is, she might tilt her head up to kiss my chin, then my lips. Nine out of ten times, if both of us were semi-conscious and with an iota of energy in us, which we usually were, that kiss would turn into a hundred kisses, and we’d end up making love.
Asher began to imagine how quickly he would tear her clothing off. She wouldn’t mind—any excuse to buy new clothes made her happy. He could almost feel how soft her skin was as he ran his hands down over her back, resting them gently just under her buttocks and...
But that’s just fantasy and fiction... history, really. I made sure of that. But when I’m lying here, breathing her with every breath... it doesn’t feel over, and she could really be close enough for me to touch.
Asher fell asleep there, in Amara’s bed at her waterfront home, and he dreamed of her.
Chapter 13: The Gstaad Palace
Using the new technique called Silver Form for the first time had completely depleted Pax. After taking a shower, she had passed out on her bed in the purple room and slept like a baby for several days. Suffering from intense boredom without her friend, Amara tried to get comfortable on her own bed, tossing and turning. She regretted that Pax wasn’t awake for her to complain to about how she much she missed her king-sized orthopedic mattress. Pax would normally ridicule her and call her a baby, but Amara would smile as she heard Pax’s thoughts agreeing with her.
Amara loved her telepathy skill. Of course, there was only Pax to practice on, but the technique was developing rapidly. She could even peer into her friend’s dreams if she concentrated hard enough. This seemed like the most entertaining activity to engage in at the moment, and Amara began focusing on the insides of her friend’s mind. Pax was much sweeter on the inside than she was on the outside.
While mentally spying on her friend, Amara began to nod off to sleep. As she hovered between awareness and the free reign of dreams, sleepy thoughts and whimsical imagery played across her mind. She could hear the roar of the stormy ocean waves crashing against the cliffs just outside the window of her house. She felt her designer duvet shift against her shoulders. She suddenly felt very sure that Asher had crawled into bed next to her, and she inched over to snuggle closer to his warmth.
Get some rest, my angel. We have a long day tomorrow.
Amara smiled and reached her arms out to touch him, to feel the flesh and blood belonging to the life force she felt and knew so well. When her fingers were supposed to connect with soft warmth they only met with emptiness instead. As her hands fumbled around for him her eyes fluttered half-open in surprise.
“Ash?” she whispered, wondering why his body wasn’t where she felt his prana to be. Had she been imagining.
Sweet dreams, Mara. I love you.
She bolted upright in bed and gasped. “Ash!”
“Where?” grumbled Pax softly from the other bed as she stirred out of her blackout.
Amara looked over at her friend in surprise, disoriented from the conviction that Asher had been beside her, close enough to touch and taste. She had felt his presence, she had heard him. She felt an immense sense of loss.
“Oh... it’s nothing. Just a dream or hallucination or something.” Amara sighed as she looked at her friend’s dark hair on the pillow. She smirked. “I guess I thought you were him for a second.”
Pax raised her arm and sniffed under it. “But I showered.”
“Ha,” muttered Amara as she snuggled back down under the blankets. She couldn’t describe what she had just felt, but it had been so real. It had shaken her up. She could almost feel his hands around her waist as she sniffled quietly. Ash, where are you right now?
Pax was groaning and shifting in bed, trying to get back to sleep. She rolled over to the left corner of the bed, repositioning her body until she felt a slight bump beneath her. She had buried the ring under the mattress, and when she lay in certain positions she felt its impression. Like in The Princess and the Pea, she was absolutely certain that she would be able to feel the lump of that jewel through a hundred mattresses. Sometimes feeling the bump elicited a feeling of comfort, sometimes one of distress. But it was her only physical link to Thornton at the moment. A link to the love she’d once felt, the person she’d once been, and to the outside world.
Part of her knew that keeping the ring under her mattress wasn’t too different from wearing it, but she told herself that it was symbolically very different. Although she’d affirmed her own independence in taking it off when she reached Silver Form, she still kept it close to her at night. It still meant something to her that he had once cared. She still found some relief in the roughly-15-carat assurance of the dwindling connection. Pax curled her hands up under her chin and thought about how dreadful it was to need to hate the one she loved. To need the one she hated to love. Her mind drifted off to sleep again on these thoughts.
Amara sighed and relaxed on her elbow as she spied on Pax’s dream. Once she intercepted the wavelength, she only had to remain very still and focused in order to keep the vision—or the memory, as it seemed to be, playing in her mind like a movie to which she was an unauthorized audience. This made it even more exciting to watch.
Pax was leaving the hospital very late; she’d worked all night and the sun was now rising. She had taken a shower in the staff area and used a quick burst of energy to quickly dry herself off before putting her street clothes back on. Now clad in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved blouse, she deliberated between driving and flying home. Deciding that she didn’t have the patience for the roads and preferred the empty skies, she took the elevator to the roof of the hospital, swiping her card to access the helipad. What she saw disappointed her. An aircraft was landing on the launch pad. She couldn’t fly away from the roof now, because there was a chance that the pilot or passengers would notice her flying. That would be hard to explain.
She moved to return to the elevator, but as she reached out to press the button a hand clamped over her mouth. She was pulled roughly against a man's body and she felt an arm fasten firmly around her waist. “Now listen here, miss. If you do exactly what I say then I won’t have to hurt you.”
Pax paused. Her lips slowly turned up into a sadistic smirk underneath the tight grip of his hand. She rolled her eyes, even though her attacker couldn’t see it, and nodded. She felt his hand slip away from her mouth, but it fell down to her chin and gripped her firmly as his lips descended to her ear and whispered in a husky tone.
“Good girl. I’m kidnapping you and taking you far away from here, got it? Get on my plane. We’re going for a little trip, just you and me.”
“Oh, but sir! Please!” Pax answered in a mockingly scared girlish tone. “I’m supposed to meet my boyfriend tonight. He’s really big and strong, and once he finds out I’m missing, he’s going to come looking for me!”
“I’m going to make you forget all about your boyfriend, little girl. I’ll make you feel pleasures that he could never show you. I’m going to throw you down and ravish you like… a pirate…”
“A pirate?” snorted Pax, with a burst of uncontrollable laughter.
“Or... uh. Uh. A fireman?”
She promptly swiveled and tackled her attacker to the floor. “Thorn, you goof. How did you sneak up on me like that?”
“Amara added some modifications to my plane so that it conceals energy,” he answered, smiling up at her. “Happy Birthday, Pax! Ready for your surprise?”
“You mean being attacked by an old pedophile wasn’t my surprise?” she asked sweetly.
“Why, you little!” He rolled her over and began to tickle her violently. “You’re not getting away with that, not even on your birthday. Now tell me what I want to hear. Say it! Say it!”
She laughed and gasped, flailing to avoid his attacking fingers. “Never!”
“Pax, I swear I will use Silver Form and tickle you on the rooftop of this hospital until you beg for mercy unless you tell me what I want to hear right
this instant. Three. Words. Three simple words!” he demanded, all the while tickling ruthlessly in the spots that he knew she was most sensitive: right above her hipbones.
“Alright!” She gasped as her flailing caused a small dent in the roof. “You’re not old! You’re not old!”
“That’s better,” said Thornton, kissing her gently. “Shall we go?”
She kissed him back happily. She could think of no better feeling than kissing her boyfriend after a long day at work. The cute little role-play wasn’t so bad either! He always knew how to catch her unaware and make something out of the ordinary happen in her day; she was grateful for that.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“It’s a surprise,” he answered, helping her up and walking over to the plane.
“Thorn, if it’s over five thousand miles away I want to fly the old-fashioned way.”
“But...”
“No, buts! I’m not spending ten hours on a flight that can take ten minutes!”
He looked up at the sky and huffed. “Sakra, why do women have to be so difficult? My plane is so cool.”
“I don’t think Sakra knows very much about women. Rumor has it that he has marital issues at the moment,” Pax said with a smile. “Which way, kidnapper?”
Thornton smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist again tightly, scooping her up and blasting off into the air. “It’s a secret!”
“I can fly too, it will be faster,” she argued.
“Not on your birthday. You have to relax and let me take care of you.”
Pax smiled. As much as she liked to assert that she didn’t need Thornton in any way, not financially, physically, or emotionally, she could relax and enjoy him taking charge for a little while. What girl didn’t want to give up control, and take it easy for a little while, deep down? Regardless, it was in her nature to protest. “But I like flying on my own, Thorn.”
Thirty Minutes to Heartbreak Box Set (Books 1-3) Page 40