Twyla looked up, an expression of frustration morphing into a half-grin. “Aside from my usual, ‘I just haven’t had time to clean up’ excuse, I’d have to say, you probably don’t wanna know the exact reason that’s in there. Hell, I’m not sure I even remember.” She used her finger to swish the last scoop into a bowl before licking her finger and closing the ice cream container. “Why was it you’re here again? I know it isn’t ice cream. I’m sure you get plenty of that at home.” Her half-grin turned to a smirk.
Mariah laughed. “I’m in need of some girl talk. Stephan hasn’t quite mastered the art. I don’t think he understands the skill involved. He tends to go cross-eyed after the first ten minutes of listening to me rant and rave about bra-sizes. Can you believe it? Then he comes up with some lame excuse that he has to go help one of the guys kill a demon. Men…” Mariah rolled her eyes, while she silently begged for Stephan’s forgiveness for the stories she was spinning about him. But it was for a good cause. Anything to get Twyla and her talking the way they used to.
“Well, I don’t suppose most men are really good for anything but fucking and fighting anyway, huh?” Twyla drizzled chocolate syrup over her bowl. “So, what is it you wanna talk about? I mean, obviously, whatever bra I’ve got in the fridge isn’t a good one, so you can take that brand off your list of must-haves.”
“Duly noted.” Mariah grabbed the chocolate syrup, removed the drizzle cap and poured half the container on the ice cream.
“Still craving chocolate?”
“Nope,” Mariah lied as she left the kitchen and settled on the couch in the living room. Twyla followed after her, sitting on the overstuffed recliner. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both munching away on their ice cream.
Twyla leaned forward and placed her empty bowl on the coffee table. Curling her legs underneath her, she relaxed back into the chair. “So, you gonna tell me why the bastard who tried to kill you five years ago is standing on my porch?”
“He didn’t try to kill me…it wasn’t him.” Mariah sighed, put the melting ice cream down, pulled a pillow against her chest and spilled the entire story.
Ten minutes later, Mariah finished. “So that’s it. Michael was just as much of a victim of circumstance as I was.”
“Okay, but he still freaks me out. Something about the way he looks at me. I dunno. Anyway, I’m still finding it odd that you’re not with Stephan. That he let you go out on your own. I mean, weird shit’s going down right now. Think about it. Skylar looks just like you and she’s running around town, too. I saw her with some other guy a couple hours ago. Clearly someone she’s close to.”
“Wait a sec…how do you know about Skylar? You’ve seen her? What?” Mariah spluttered. “Damn, has everyone but me met my cousin already?”
“Cousin?” Twyla frowned. “I guess that would explain the startling resemblance. I was almost figuring more than just cousin. Hell, I thought she was you. I walked into the café to get some dinner and she was sitting with some cute guy with his hand over hers. I started talking to her before I got a good look at her and she knew my name. Very weird. Everything’s very weird right now.” Twyla sighed, and primped at her hair. “And too many coincidences, too close to you, Mariah. You know that’s gotta be bad news. You’re really making me nervous being here.” She fluffed at her hair again.
“Nervous? Why? Twyla, what’s up? This isn’t like you. You’ve been messing with your hair the whole time we’ve been talking, you’re not meeting my eyes…” Mariah laid her head back on the edge of the couch and stared at the ceiling. “You’re keeping things from me and you’ve never done that before. That’s why I came over tonight. I want to know what I did to make you not trust me anymore.” Reluctant, angry tears burned in her throat and she choked on them as she spoke. “I just want my best friend back.”
“With all due respect, Mariah, and don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not the one who left. I’m happy for you and everything, but I’m still here. And now I’m even more alone than I used to be.” Twyla’s words came to an abrupt halt.
Stunned, Mariah looked at her friend. Twyla sat, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, staring straight ahead. She was still hiding something, and it was starting to piss Mariah off. “Wait, we can only be friends if I live with you? What the hell is that about?” Angry, Mariah got to her feet. “You know, I didn’t realize that being in love and keeping our friendship were contradictory experiences. I’m gonna get more ice cream. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but I need more chocolate to deal with it.”
“I knew you wouldn’t understand. You’re too happy to understand, Mariah,” Twyla said calmly as she entered the kitchen behind Mariah. “As my best friend, you were always around even when I didn’t want you to be, but now you’re never around and I’m in absolute hell with no one to talk to about it because I can’t just barge in on you and Stephan. Hell, every time I’ve come to the compound to talk to you, you’re fucking him. That’s great and all. It’s about time you had a healthy sex life, so who the hell am I to get in your way?” She washed out her bowl in the sink and set it down near where Mariah was carving out a second serving.
Mariah let out a tired sigh. “I’ve been waiting three months for you to tell me what happened when Craze took you. Three months. After the first month of reminding you that you could talk to me, I kinda figured you just weren’t ready, or didn’t want to tell me. Now you’re saying it’s my fault?” Fed up with trying to scoop out ice cream, Mariah poured in the chocolate syrup and began eating directly from the container.
“No. That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m saying I just don’t wanna rain on your parade.” Twyla leaned against the counter and studied the floor. “What would you say if I told you that without Freeze, I feel like my life is over?” She pulled an amethyst crystal from her pocket and studied its facets as she slowly rotated it. “What would you say if I told you that even though I was only around the guy for what, five hours total, I knew that I could give up ever fucking another man as long as I lived? What would you say if I told you that he is the only person who has ever breathed more life into me than I have ever breathed into anyone else?” Twyla’s voice shook. “What would you say if I told you he was dead?” She palmed the amethyst and darted into the living room, tears falling unhindered down her cheeks.
It was the first time Mariah had ever seen her cry.
Dropping the ice cream on the counter, Mariah hurried after Twyla. She found her sitting on the floor, head down, leaning against the arm of the couch, one knee up as she clasped the amethyst to her chest, her other hand tangled in her hair as her shoulders wracked with each sob.
Mariah sat down next to her best friend. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, as though the fragility of the situation would be shattered if she spoke in a normal voice. She’d never felt so useless, so completely unable to offer any type of comfort. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Why…” Mariah ran a hand soothingly down Twyla’s back. “I love you, Twyla. Just because I’m getting married doesn’t mean I can’t hurt for you, with you, and curse the fates on your behalf…that will never change. Never.”
“I thought I was doing fine. I thought I was getting over it, getting over him. I thought it would go away, but it’s not. No matter what I try, he still haunts me. I dream of him every night. Sometimes we’re fucking like everything in the world is beautiful and sometimes it’s as simple as he’s shadowing me, looking out for me as I go off and be my wild and wacky self. Mariah, in the short time I knew him, he taught me things that have changed my life forever. He showed me that I have power. That I can make things happen.” She paused and wiped tears from her cheeks, but more tears swiftly took their place. “So now, here I am, somewhere in limbo without anything to hold on to, because why would anyone wanna listen to me whine and cry about some guy I truly can never have? Some guy I killed.”
“What?” Mariah asked incredulously.
“That night on the pier,
during the battle, I sent Freeze to his death.”
Mariah’s mind flashed back to that night three months ago when David had tried to steal her to another dimension. A blond man had stepped in, confronting David. Words and fists had flown, and then some type of magic. Twyla had screamed out a name…Freeze. But what had happened and why did she blame herself? “Twyla, I don’t understand.”
“I saw that Craze was throwing a fireball at you as he fell into the portal and I did what I could to try and stop it. I ended up throwing a spark. Yes, I have that kind of power now. The spark knocked the fireball away from you, but it ricocheted and knocked Freeze to his death.” She swallowed hard. “Yeah, I know Craze came back from that hell, but he told me that he watched Freeze die. And even if the bastard was full of shit, Freeze is not here, but Craze is.” Twyla lifted her head, her tear-filled eyes begging her to understand. “I know he would be here, Mariah. Freeze would be here with me. I know that. I’m not making this shit up. I know what I felt—what we felt—was real. He wasn’t faking, Mariah. I know it.”
Mariah wrapped both arms around her best friend, the tears starting to fall from her eyes as well. “I know, Twyla. I know. But you didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t your fault. Don’t blame yourself. Don’t go down that path.”
“I just don’t want the flame to burn out. But I can’t get it back. I feel so cold. I was trying to help, but I got hurt…very badly. And I can’t undo it. I can’t change it. I can’t erase it.” Twyla wrapped her arms around Mariah and shook with each uncontrollable gut-wrenching sob.
“Do you remember what you told me after Michael? I know it’s not the same thing, but hear me out. I still loved him for a while, even though I thought he’d tried to kill me. I couldn’t let go of what we’d had, that feeling of being with someone who was such a part of me. But you made me let go. You forced me to see that I could go on. And you can. It’ll hurt. It’ll always hurt when you think of it…of him. But you can’t stop living…you’ve got too much to live for.”
Twyla pulled back, out of Mariah’s embrace. “What the hell are you talking about? What have I got left to live for? You’re gonna have to enlighten me because I’m just not seeing it. Not at all. I’m still searching for a reason. Still searching for something truly good to come of all of this. Something I can hold onto instead of sacrificing for someone else’s sake.”
A whooshing, whirring sound filled the air around them and Mariah looked up, startled to see what looked to be a full deck of tarot cards spinning in a furious cyclone around the two of them. Somehow she knew the cause was Twyla, that her rampant emotions were manifesting themselves in the twisting wind.
Needing to break through to her, to calm her down before anything else started flying, she looked Twyla directly in her eyes and spoke matter-of-factly. Hopefully the no bullshit routine would sink in faster than soothing, reassuring words. “Of course, you can’t see it now. You’re too caught up in the ‘what ifs’. I’m not saying you should go out and start fucking every man you see, hoping one of them catches your fancy, but you need to do things for you, start living for you. Screw what you think you should do. Do what makes you happy. And I know you’re going to tell me nothing makes you happy, but you’ve got to move past that. Because I know Twyla is in there somewhere.” Mariah took a deep breath. “I’m not trying to make light of what happened. I’m not. But I can’t keep watching you wither away. I won’t let you.” Her last words came out fiercer than intended, but if that made them sink into Twyla’s skull, that was all that mattered.
A glimmer of comprehension flickered in Twyla’s eyes just as Michael came blasting through the front door. “What the h—”
With a twist of Twyla’s hand, the tarot cards stopped spinning, floating casually onto the coffee table in a perfectly arranged stack, as though she’d done it a million times before. Twyla faced Mariah, a tired smile lifting the corner of her lips. She nodded toward Michael. “You better go.”
Mariah glanced at him, then at Twyla. “I can stay as long as you need me.”
Twyla shook her head. “No, you go. I’ll be fine. I swear it. This,” she gestured at Mariah, the cards, and toward the kitchen, “tonight…thank you. I’ll call you if things get crazier than they are now.” Twyla got to her feet and held out a hand to Mariah. “C’mon pregnant lady, let me help you up.”
Mariah smiled and let Twyla help her, then pulled her into a tight hug. “If you need anything…anything…”
“I know.” Twyla squeezed her extra tight then pushed her away. “Get home. Be safe.”
Mariah gave Twyla a final once over. Twyla just shook her head. “I’m fine. Really.” Mariah continued staring at her and Twyla laughed. “Geez, Mom, stop worrying. Okay?”
With the return of Twyla’s spunk, Mariah felt like she could finally leave. Things weren’t perfect, but they were getting better. As long as they were talking, they were going to be okay. “See you soon?” she asked casually as she walked toward Michael and the door.
“Not if I see you first.”
Chapter Twelve
Skylar woke to soft, warm lips pressing kisses down her spine, mixed with the sandpaper rough feel of Dusty’s unshaven jaw. Strong, masculine hands skimmed over her curves, stimulating her flesh with a warm buzz of euphoria. If only she could wake to this every morning. Then she smiled. Maybe she would.
Letting out a soft mewl of approval, she blinked her eyes open. Muted light filtered in through the closed vertical blinds. Not the light of dawn, but security lights flanking the apartment’s exterior. A digital clock in the room switched from 2:11 to 2:12. Still the middle of the night.
After their shower—after they’d driven each other near senseless—they had stumbled to Dusty’s bedroom, curled up together, and fallen immediately asleep. Skylar had never known such serenity as she found with her head resting on Dusty’s chest, his muscular arms wrapped around her body, the strong beat of his heart a comforting rhythm.
Warm breath blew along the curve of her back and Skylar whimpered, fisting her hands into the soft sheets beneath her. Lying on her stomach, unable to see Dusty moving above her, caused a curious lustful anticipation. Her body, though still weak from sleep, called out in hot, wet need for him. Moisture pooled between her legs and she drew up on her knees and elbows, angling her hips, instinctively opening for Dusty, wanting him to take her again and again and again.
Fingers pressed deep into her hips, not hurting her, just holding her in place as he continued his slow perusal. His tongue flickered out, teasing the hollow at the base of her spine. Hoarsely she called out his name. Desperate. Wanting.
It was like a dream, his touches coming in slow motion. In her languid state, she ached for him to merge with her, complete her. Yet at the same time, she wanted the simple touches to last forever.
“It will, baby, I promise,” Dusty’s rough voice murmured from behind her. “I’m never gonna let you go.”
Had she spoken her thoughts out loud? She blushed, able to feel her cheeks pinking in the darkness. Then she moaned as Dusty’s large hands palmed her other cheeks, lifting and separating them, exposing the area wet with desire for him.
“So fucking beautiful, Skylar,” he said reverently as he lowered his mouth to her pussy, tasting her with long, slow licks of his tongue.
If Dusty’s hands hadn’t held her in place, Skylar knew she would have collapsed after the first swipe of his tongue. He drew out each motion, taking his time, exploring every fold. She rocked against him, her entire body, from her toes to her fingertips, aroused.
Shimmering need thrummed through her like the deep primal pounding of a drum. Her body was no longer hers to control. Wanting to be wrapped in male heat, to feel the hard strokes of her man filling, taking, mating.
One hand trailed from her hip and joined his mouth in play. When two fingers breached her outer folds and slipped inside, Skylar gasped. The fingers of his other hand began circling her clitoris while his tongue continued drinki
ng up all the cream her body offered. His fingers seemed to touch her everywhere at once with incredible dexterity, taking her places she’d never been before.
It was so good, too much sensation. Fingers, tongue, mouth, Dusty. She tossed her head, her tangled hair whipping around her. Sensation of a thousand bolts of lightning surged through her flesh as she cried out her orgasm.
Before the sensations had time to dull, Skylar felt Dusty’s erect shaft poised and ready at her entrance. The thick head pushed through her swollen folds, the blood still pulsing hot against the walls of her vagina. Inch by thick inch he penetrated her, her cunt slick and ready for him to slide in to the hilt. But again he took his time, prolonging every moment, every luscious feeling, keeping her on the edge of climax.
After entering her completely, he paused and she tightened her sheath around him, rhythmically milking his cock. He let out a tight, low growl—a warning or perhaps a request?—before beginning a slow retreat.
This went on for what felt like hours, the slow glide in and out, touching every part of her. She relished every moment, the feel of coarse pubic hair against her ass when he was buried deep inside her, the smell of hot, clean sweaty male. He was hers. All hers.
Desperate to claim him, to continue this primal journey with her mate, she thrust back, taking his cock deep and deeper still against her womb. A groan ripped from his throat, urging her on. This time he met her movement with his own until as one they rocked and undulated together. Fast and sure he surged into her again and again and again, his balls slapping rhythmically against her clit.
She felt his orgasm coming, like a mental connection had been built between them allowing her access to all his sexual needs and wants. The room seemed to close in around them until nothing existed but him and her together as one.
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