* * * *
"Death.” Cybil shivered and ran her hands up and down her arms. “I knew that fortune teller was whacked. How to convince Grace of that, though?"
A knock on her door was a welcome reprieve from her inner turmoil. Cybil raced to the door, threw it open, then froze. Her mouth dropped open and she blinked, staring at the Grim Reaper. What the...
"Cybil,” a deep masculine voice penetrated her stunned mind. “It's just me, Josh."
"Death,” she whispered, taking a step back. Cybil lost her grip on the door and stumbled, falling on her ass and backpedaling as the man encased in black drew closer. “You have the wrong house."
"Cybil!"
"No.” Cybil shook her head. “You must be mistaken. I got The Hermit. Grace got Death."
"Woman, what the fuck are you talking about?” Josh's voice finally registered as he tugged the hood off his head.
"Josh?” Cybil knew she stared, and her mouth hung open like the proverbial fish, but she couldn't help it. For a minute, she'd thought she'd manifested death. As her thoughts cleared, and the haze lifted from her mind, Cybil jumped to her feet and punched him in the chest. “Dammit, Josh. You scared the living daylights out of me."
"I'm sorry. It's just that I was trying on this costume and wanted to see if you thought it would be good for Samhain."
"Josh, Halloween is months away. What are you doing looking for a costume now? You could lose or gain weight between now and then."
He rolled his eyes. “Of course you would be worried about weight. I found this outfit on clearance. I couldn't resist it. Hell, for ten dollars, I'm practically stealing it."
Cybil shook her head. “What do you really want, Josh?"
"Can I come in?” He glanced up and down the hallway. “I don't want anyone to—"
"See you,” Cybil finished. “Yeah, I know. Come in, but be quick because I think you scared me out of eight of my nine lives."
Josh sighed, closed the door behind him and leaned on it. “Cats have nine lives, not bitches."
"You know, Josh, people aren't going to react to your scars the way you think they will."
"You mean they won't scream or faint like you did when you first saw me?” His eyes narrowed as he pinned her with his gaze. Cybil shivered at the sensation of his gaze reaching to her very soul and stroking it. How he managed to do it every time they made eye contact, she didn't know. The sensation was the reason she tried to avoid his gaze, but he probably thought otherwise. Obviously he thinks otherwise.
"Well, they'll probably leave you alone when they find out you're a witch. Besides, you can't compare everyone else to me—"
"You can say that again,” he interrupted.
Ignoring him, Cybil continued. “It was the middle of the night and you were half naked, in your Celtic warrior getup. I thought you were a psychopath. It had nothing to do with the scars on your face."
Josh looked up at her, and Cybil forced herself to meet his gaze. Of course she couldn't look into his eyes for more than a second or two. If she did, she'd be sucked into their depths while he read her inner thoughts and desires. He'd know she wanted him more than she'd ever imagined possible. He wasn't ready for a commitment, not until he realized his scars didn't define him; they didn't make him what he was. What he is, is a delicious specimen that I'd like to have my wicked way with for a few hours, days, maybe lifetimes. The thought sent another shiver up her spine and she hastily looked away.
"See, Cybil. Even you can't look at me for longer than a few seconds without being terrified."
"It's not what you think, Josh. You don't understand."
"I understand perfectly well, Cybil. I'm sorry to intrude on you. I won't bother you again.” Josh turned, yanked open the door and stormed out before she could form a response.
"There's goes another perfectly good friendship right out the window!” She cursed as the door slammed shut. It wasn't him she was terrified of. She was afraid he'd see so deeply inside her that he'd learn her secret. Maybe she should tell him. It would be better than this.
Cybil raced into her bedroom and threw herself down on the bed. She stared at the wall connecting her apartment to Josh's. Assuming his was set up the exact same way, she faced his bedroom. Where does he get off making assumptions about me? Who does he think he is, saying nasty things and then running away as if he's the one who'd been wronged? What is he doing right now? Heavy metal blared through the wall. He must be practicing his kickboxing. That means he's really upset. Cybil groaned and turned her face into her pillow.
"Oh hell, no. Grace thinks she is going to die; Ada is so happy she doesn't need me anymore, and now Josh hates me. How can I have gone from having too many friends to not having any? Even my dates don't call back anymore."
It's because you're a bitch. Cybil froze wondering where that thought came from. She wasn't a bitch. People loved her. She was always the life of a party. There was always a guy waiting in the wings to take her out if she grew tired of her boyfriend and if one friend walked away, two more took her place. A bitch wouldn't have friends. But you don't have any more friends, remember? Maybe Josh meant it when he called you a bitch earlier. He's probably right.
Cybil buried her head in her pillow and screamed until her throat was hoarse and she couldn't make another sound.
She must have dozed off, because when she woke the room was dark and Josh's apartment was silent. Their earlier fight, she snorted—Was it a fight if he was the only one yelling?—replayed in her mind. So what if Josh hated her? He'd come back to her. His self-consciousness about the facial scars kept him from making friends. He'd be back. And if he doesn't come back? Then what? That's just plain nonsense. He'll be back. He needs my friendship. But what if he doesn't? What if he doesn't need you or your friendship?
"Damn you!” Cybil picked up her pillow and tossed it at the wall. “And double damn that stupid fortune teller."
Cybil curled up in a ball. As she drifted off to sleep she remembered the pain on Josh's face right before he'd stormed out of her apartment. Intentional or not, he had misunderstood her, and it was her fault. Whenever she looked at him, all common sense fled. The first night she met him she'd made a bad impression, but he'd overlooked that and she thought they were becoming very good friends. She must have thought wrong.
Remnants of the night she met Josh flashed through her mind. Giving in to the memories, Cybil surrendered to sleep once more.
* * * *
Cybil woke breathlessly as her dream man vanished. He'd been visiting her in her dreams since she'd turned twenty-one. All the dreams he featured in were incredibly hot and erotic, but since she'd moved into this apartment they'd increased in intensity. This time she'd been on the verge of another orgasm when the ringing of the phone woke her.
When she'd tossed the phone across the room and heard it smack with a resounding thud against the wall, she turned on her side and tried to go back to sleep. Back to her dream man. He was too good to be real, so why did she cling to him? Because he wasn't real and she knew that. No real man could compare to him. She was lucky enough to have such a vivid imagination, so why not enjoy it for as long as she could?
The sound of Celtic music filled her bedroom and Cybil sat up quickly trying to figure out where it was coming from. The man next door. She'd caught glimpses of him, but not enough to get his attention and introduce herself. He looked quite edible, but he was playing hard to get, and she had plenty of other fish in the sea to catch. Why waste her time on him when it was obvious he didn't want a relationship, not even a friendly one?
But playing that music as loudly as he was, and this late at night went beyond rude. He might be the end of the hall, but his apartment bordered hers. She needed sleep and she was going to get it.
Cybil climbed out of bed and wrapped her pink terry cloth bathrobe tightly around her. Memories of her handsome nocturnal lover kept her warm as she trudged next door and banged on the solid wood.
"Coming!” A deep
husky voice sounded from deep within the apartment.
"So was I!” she shouted back. At least she'd been on the verge of coming, anyway.
Cybil looked up as the door slowly opened. There, framed in the dark space stood the man of her dreams. Dressed only in a kilt, with his broad chest and well built abs gleaming in the light from the hall, her neighbor closely resembled the sex god who graced her bed during the midnight hours.
"Holy shit."
"Excuse me?"
Cybil glanced up into a face twisted and scarred. Before she could stop herself, she met his gaze and felt herself pulled in as an image of his past flashed before her eyes. An awful car crash and the pain of flames. The suit had protected his body, but the helmet had been worthless keeping the flames at bay until the rescue workers could pull him out of the wreckage.
As his pain rushed through her body, Cybil moaned and then blacked out.
When she woke, her neighbor had dressed and donned a brown cowboy hat that he'd tilted down to keep most of his face hidden.
"I'm sorry.” She'd said the first words that popped into her mind, but they'd been the wrong thing to say because his face hardened like granite.
"You're sorry? For what? Because the sight of me repulses you?"
"No! That's not true.” Cybil gasped, tears filling her eyes. She didn't want to confess the truth. He'd never believe her. Instead she looked around the room. Anything to avoid eye contact and the risk of another vision making her embarrass herself further.
"It's okay. Most people can't stand to look at me. Why did you come over here at this hour of the night anyway?"
"It was your music. You were playing it so loud I couldn't sleep."
"I'm sorry. I'll make sure I keep it down in the future. That apartment was always empty so I got used to not having to worry about my noise level."
Cybil glanced around the room again, this time noticing a cauldron, candles burnings and several different items in a bag on the coffee table. Faced with a half-naked man surrounded by pagan tools with anger radiating off him in waves so hot she flinched, Cybil wondered if he practiced black magic. What was she still doing in his apartment? Better safe than sorry.
"I gotta go. I have a busy day ahead of me and I need my sleep."
His face was hidden from her, but she could tell from his voice that he knew she'd seen his witchcraft items and was getting out while the getting was good.
"I might have the face of a monster, but I can assure you I'm not one."
"I never thought you were a monster. I never said that,” Cybil stuttered hastily.
"You didn't have to."
* * * *
Cybil sat up and stared around the room disoriented. He was right. The pain in his expression that night was the same as it had been tonight.
The look on Josh's face made her want to weep, but he also brought on unexpected and painful visions. That was why she avoided eye contact. It didn't happen with every one. In fact it hardly ever happened. But she hadn't been prepared for his scars and in her surprise the vision had snuck up on her.
Not only had seeing him and receiving that vision sent her into a depression, but her dream lover had not returned since that night. Perhaps when she compared Josh to her dream lover it had been a trigger to stop the dreams. She and Josh would never be lovers. And when her dream man had looked up at her with a scarred face, she'd awakened screaming, and never dreamt of him again.
She was attracted to Josh. Why deny it? But being with him was simply out of the question. Yes her body hungered for him, but her mind knew better. Josh was a loner, and that was what he would remain. But he was also a close friend. He deserved to know the truth, not think that he horrified and disgusted her. Sure he might not believe her, but at least she'd have tried.
Cybil checked her appearance in the mirror. It wouldn't hurt to look presentable when she told him she wasn't afraid of him but of the visions he gave her. Should I mention my dream lover or just stick to my visions? It wasn't as if her dream lover had come back anyway, and lots of people dreamed of wonderful lovers. She wasn't any different. Not in that aspect anyway.
She knocked on the door three times, but there was no answer. Not that she expected any different. Josh rarely answered his door. That was why he'd given her a key. Cybil unlocked the door and peeked inside.
"Hello?” she called out as she closed the door. “Josh?"
Silence greeted her. Cybil sighed and stepped into the hallway. She'd never been to his bedroom, but she knew he used the second one for his magic. Perhaps he was in there. But would he want to be disturbed? Oh, hell. I just need to get this over with!
"Josh?” Cybil knocked on the first door. When there was no answer, she opened the door and looked around. There was a large pentagram on a rug centered in the room. Facing one wall was a small square table, his altar maybe? There was a dark cloth covering it, and several pagan objects including melted candles, an athame, a pentagram and a carved wooden box. The symbol on the box was one she'd seen before. In her dreams. She reached for it. What could it mean?
"Cybil?” Josh grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room. He closed the door and pressed her against it, leaning over her. “What are you doing?"
"Josh!” Cybil gasped and pressed against the door. He must have just gotten out of the shower because his hair was still wet and hung about his face, clinging to his cheeks. He wore nothing except a white towel wrapped around his waist. Rivulets of water dripped off his hair and down over his sculpted chest and abs.
"What are you doing in my apartment?"
"I was looking for you,” she stammered as she struggled to catch her breath.
"And you thought I was in that little box? What were you doing trying to enter my circle?"
His hands dug into her shoulders in a bruising grip. This wasn't the Josh she knew. This one acted like the monster he claimed to be.
"Josh?"
"Answer me, Cybil."
"I was looking for you."
"Why? Did you think that this time you could look at my scars without fainting or being so disgusted you had to turn away?"
"Please.” Cybil whimpered under his punishing grip. Between his hold on her and the anger radiating off him in hot waves, she knew this had been a big mistake. He didn't want to hear an explanation. He was still angry. But how could I have hurt him this badly? Sure they were good friends, but he was acting like a lover scorned. Lover. She shivered and tried not to look at his exposed skin, even though it looked smooth and hard. Biting back a groan, Cybil stared up at the ceiling.
"What? Spell it out for me, Cybil."
"You're hurting me,” she whispered as tears began to slip down her cheeks. In more ways than one.
"By the Goddess,” he growled and released her arms, but leaned closer to her so his scent wrapped around her. Soap and the intoxicating scent that was his alone teased her senses. “Tell me why you came and then get the hell out."
"I...” She paused and swallowed. This was hard. Almost as hard as he felt pressed up against her.
Cybil drew in a deep breath and almost swooned as desire swirled in her belly. She grew wet, so wet, as he groaned and dropped his forehead against her shoulder. If she turned her face just a bit, she could press her lips against his neck and—no! But he smelled so good ... How will he taste?
As she turned her head, she brushed her lips against his neck. More heat flooded her and her underwear grew so damp and her nipples so hard, she was afraid he'd be able to notice her arousal. That would scare him off fast, wouldn't it?
Josh drew in shallow, panting breaths. Is he sick? No wonder he was so agitated. He didn't feel good, probably had a fever and who knew what else.
"Are you sick? Can I get you something? Let's get you into bed."
Josh looked up at her and she made the mistake of meeting his eyes. Her own breaths grew shallow and suddenly she realized what his problem was. How stupid. He didn't take lovers, did he? Of course not. He would be afra
id of scaring them off, or being a pity lay. How many other women had looked at him the way he thought I'd looked at him? With disgust and fear?
"Yeah, I'm sick,” he said hoarsely. “I think it'd be best if you left now. And leave the key on your way out."
Cybil froze. “Leave my key?"
"I was stupid to think we could be friends. I...” Josh shook his head.
"No.” Cybil grabbed his arms as he stepped back. “We need to talk. Please. I want to explain something to you. Please, Josh. It's important."
Josh looked uncomfortable, but as he stepped back she realized why. He was rock-hard, everywhere. Between his misinterpretation of her emotions and his lack of sex since the accident ... he would probably greet any female this way. The decent thing to do would be to leave and let him relieve his frustration. But she wanted him to relieve it with her.
Before he could protest, her hands settled on his hard, damp chest as she rose on tiptoe and leaned into him. Cybil closed the distance between the two of them and pressed her lips to his. He was soft and hard at the same time, and so hot that she felt as if he'd burn her.
She sucked on his lower lip until he sighed and relaxed, then she kissed him like she'd dreamed of doing for months, no years. Their tongues met, clashed, and danced. Josh moaned and dug his fingers into her hips. He pressed his erection against her, the cotton barrier doing nothing to disguise his hunger.
Cybil reached for his towel, but missed when Josh suddenly pulled away and took a step back.
"I don't need your sympathy, Cybil. I don't need a pity fuck."
She flinched at his harsh tone and language. “It's not pity. It's not sympathy. I wanted to kiss you. Want to kiss you.” Damn it, why does he make me so tongue-tied? No wonder he says I confuse him. I confuse myself.
Deciding to keep her distance until she explained everything, Cybil walked away and sat on his recliner. Josh sighed, but sat on the sofa and looked at her expectantly.
"I wanted to tell you the truth about what happened the night we met."
"We don't need to rehash you fainting at the sight of me."
Tarot Card Anthology: Synchronicity Volume 1 Page 7