He collapsed for a moment above me. His legs shook as he moved our bodies onto the mattress and curled himself around me. I appreciated the fact that he moved me, too, as I wasn’t sure I could remember how to control my muscles, possibly ever again. The seascape disappeared. Again, we lay in only a room, smelling faintly of the sea and storm and he and I, and I wondered if it had been real or all a dream somehow.
A limp Janie noodle, warm and content, curled into him, I tried, pretty much unsuccessfully, to remember simple things like how to breathe and see. When basic ability returned to me, I touched his chest.
His hand came up to link fingers with mine.
I looked up, finally, from where he had placed me on his chest. I propped myself on my arm on his chest and studied those glass green alien eyes. But they weren’t so alien. They were special. Special and alien are two different things, apparently. I licked my lips to find my voice, found it absent, and then tried again. “You didn’t mention I could feed while we actually did it.”
“Didn’t I?” Tousled, his long curls hung in auburn disarray against a pillow of a hunter green. His face up close seemed a picture of lines and angles. I reached out a hand to stroke them and memorize them with my fingers. I ran a hand through that hair, and he lay nearly still while he gently circled my back with one hand, studying me, and held my hand with the other.
“It wasn’t bad.”
His brows arched. His smile slid slowly across those stark features.
By the time it had curled across his face, I had a distinct mental picture of the Grinch and his evil smile.
“You must not have caught the whole thing.” He sat up and cupped my face in his hands. “Let’s see if the instant replay impresses you more.”
“You can’t possibly.” But his lips closed over mine. Apparently, he could. I broke the kiss and attempted a mock scowl. “And don’t tell me you like sports. I can’t stand sports.”
“Baby.” His voice was a growl and my breath caught in my throat. “This happens to be my favorite sport. And, by the way, I am very good at it. Varsity, even.”
I would have labeled him pro, but then, well, why debate?
“No, really.” I felt pretty sure I would not be able to do that again. Besides, I’m boring Janie Smith. I’m impressed I had made round one. Round two? Hello, recovery time?
His mouth closed over mine and I automatically reacted. I shoved power back at him and he trembled. “You taste like the ocean. Like the breeze as it blows over the ocean, and I can almost feel the wind on my face when I take your lips.”
I went to my knees, and he was hard between us. I caught Mr. Happy and moved him gently so I could sidle closer. “You are a storm. You taste like the air before a storm. I can almost hear the thunder and smell the lightning.”
It was true and he answered me by kissing me with his power.
I shivered from it, and he tugged me tighter against him. My body answered his, as it always seemed to answer his. I realized that my need for him hadn’t abated. Perhaps the siren hunger had been fed, but my need for Chance was not sated. I wondered if it could be satisfied.
Soul mates, I thought. Two beings rent apart at the beginning of time, Old Mother claimed. Could that be why we had reached that point? Together was as close as we could get to being one here on earth.
His mouth closed over mine, and his kiss lasted long and sweet. I went boneless, and he slid me back onto the mattress. Where before had been hunger and fire, his hands this time streaked gentle on my hot flesh.
Mine answered with equal tenderness on his skin. Like a student, I learned what made him sigh, what made those eyes roll up to meet mine. I studied what made his breath quicken.
His exploration was as thorough. His hands and mouth as busy as mine. His smile became familiar, and his sighs a sound I came to treasure. And when his breath grew ragged, he slid into me like liquid and began to move, still slow and even.
I sighed and moved with him like a symphony.
He held my hands and our eyes locked as he moved and I moved and our breaths grew shallow and fast. When I shattered, so did he. It happened so slow and easy that my teeth clenched and a tear slid down my cheek. He kissed it away, kissed me, and clung to me in the night.
“Mine now.” And his hands slid me close to him. His hands pulled my body onto his, and I melted onto him and it. He seemed afraid to let me go. “Can we agree on that at least?”
I burrowed into his storm-scented skin and he was right. I probably did smell like the sea because he smelled like the ocean after a storm. I wondered if my scent smelled as mingled as his.
I kissed him in answer, too tired to speak. But in the back of my mind, when he had asked, back in the part that I knew he was not part of, the part that was still mine and had some feeble shields, I found myself wondering again…
Why did he ask? Could Fate undo the soul mate connection? Not that I would want to be away from him, but did I really want someone tied to me because he had to be? Wouldn’t I rather he stayed because he chose to? Chance had not chosen me. Shouldn’t someone like him, rather someone as special as he had turned out to be, need more? Didn’t he deserve more? If I could at some point free him…
But that was for another night to worry about. For tonight, dawn edged the sky. Out the bay windows I could see it and I could see Lake Erie, nearly frozen, lit by brilliant oranges and reds. For the moment, Chance lay in my arms, mine as I was his. And whether he liked it or not, yeah, stuck with me. Because, darn it, I really cared about him. Not that I would admit that to him.
Instead, I gave him what I had. I gave him my body. I gave him the part of my soul that he’d tied to his. I gave him my arms wrapped around him with no hesitation. And as neither of us slept, we lay curled in a cocoon of our own light and power and watched the sun rise over Ohio. I didn’t dare peek at what thoughts chased across his mind as the new day dawned. While we lay naked and tired in each other’s arms, was he happy that it was me there with him?
Fate had insisted I find forgiveness. I had forgiven Chance. I wasn’t sure if I could forgive myself. The problem lay in that I wasn’t sure I deserved it. And if I couldn’t forgive myself, well, how could he? How could I be sure he wasn’t with me because of a combination of the power I brought him and the link that offered no choice?
If those factors were removed, would I have him wrapped around me now, watching as the sun rose? He pulled me closer and snuggled his face into my neck. I wondered again what he thought. Was he happy, as I was? Or did he hope I would leave until the time came for me to feed again? Or worse, did he regret the entire mess and wonder how he got tied into the whole thing? Or maybe he thought of whether or not the laundry needed to be done. Who knew?
I rolled onto my back, gazed up at him, and ran a hand over his face. To know someone as well as I had come to know him and be terrified of what he thought left an awful feeling. It was the one piece of his intricate mind that I did not dare explore because I was so afraid of what I might see.
“What are you worried about? You’re shielded so hard I can hardly feel you even though you’re right here.” His brow furrowed in worry of his own.
Well, I guess I knew what he had been thinking. “Are you happy? I mean, altogether, with how things worked out so far?” There, I had asked it out loud. Kind of.
He ran a hand over my face. As I had done earlier to his, he traced my face and seemed to draw the lines of it with his fingers. “Some things would make me happier. I am happy so far. I won’t ask for more.” He seemed to hesitate before each word, as if he chose them carefully.
I read between the lines. I did not like what I read there. I turned away from him to watch the sunrise again. I’m right. There are things that would make him happier. Maybe someone else could make him happier but he had—me.
“Will you, and this probably will sound cheesy, and I just said I was not going to ask for more but…” Again, he hesitated.
I glanced over my shoulder to
see him propped on one elbow and the sunrise made his peach-colored skin glow. His eyes glittered in the light and his hair blazed like fire from it. The whole effect made him almost a painting done in sepias. He ruined the effect when he moved again, and I wondered what my paler skin and silvery hair appeared like in this light. Probably it washed me out and made me look like a drowned fish.
“I wanted to ask for a commitment of sorts from you. Nothing major, but that you would be, well, sort of more mine than anyone else’s.”
I arched a brow and remembered to smooth it. What did he mean? Like a girlfriend? Soul mate is not enough of a commitment? I considered his earlier statement of not being happy with me, and wondered why he would want to commit anyway.
“I am older than you.” He smiled. “We used to promise. Similar to your girlfriend/boyfriend but I think more. I have a ring…”
“What is promised exactly?”
“You promise you are mine, basically. It’s not married or anything. But it’s more than dating. Just, promised.” Sheepish again, he shrugged.
He leaned over me and picked up a small velvet bag from the bedside table. One handed, he snagged it, and dropped it onto the sheet in front of me. I rolled to my back and scooted up until I leaned against the headboard. I opened the bag, and, while I sat naked and the day broke around me, a ring dropped out to roll onto the sheet and glitter like a band of light.
A circle of silver lay so bright and clear that it seemed to be made from the sun itself. Or lightning. I smiled and picked it up to study. It was old, so old that it seemed soft in my fingers. Set with small diamonds and engraved with curves and swirls it was beautiful. I moved it so it caught the light and color danced off it. In the band, I could see what looked like an imperfection, tiny marks, and realized there were words cut into the inside but not by any modern cutting tool.
It read: Love, which hath ends, will have an end—whereas mine knows no bounds for you. All I refuse, but you.
I smoothed my fingers across the stones. Who had made this ring and how many fingers had worn it? How many promises had ridden on those words? How many hearts had been broken, how many lies had been told, how many secrets hidden because the wearer had read those words and believed that a tiny silver band could protect her from pain?
I had worn Cartier. Rings had no magical properties. They slipped off the finger as easily as they slipped on. I said none of this, but considered the man on the bed and wondered what prompted this sudden need for a promise of any kind between us.
“So it’s like you want me to be your girlfriend, but to wear a ring so everyone can see that you have peed on this tree?” My attempt at levity neither seemed appreciated nor greeted with a smile as I had hoped.
His fingers came out to cup mine that held the ring, and he slipped back into the genial mask that I recognized as Chance’s angry-mask. “It is a promise ring. If you wear it, you are promised to me. This is not an altogether normal ring. If you wear it for me, it’s far more substantial than urine to make sure others know you are mine.”
I cocked my head at him. “Why, Chance?”
He slid a leg around me so that I sat in a circle of his body, as he would have my finger sit in the circle of his ring. “I want you to know that I care. I don’t want to pressure you but I want to, at the same time, bind you to me. It is a bit of a tightrope walk but it would make me feel better. A concession of sorts. Would you, Janie Smith, promise to me?”
He kissed my nose and stared into my eyes.
Again, a choice.
He held the ring.
What harm could it do? “Yes.” But my voice sounded rough and he slipped the ring on my finger while he kept his gaze locked with mine. It fit perfectly.
“Love, which hath ends, will have an end—whereas mine knows no bounds for you. All I refuse, but you.” He intoned it as if it were some sort of ceremony. But we sat in his bed, naked as the sun that rose over the lake behind us. And he kissed me.
“Hmm.” It had been a very distracting kind of kiss.
“Say it too, Janie.”
I furrowed my brow at him, “Why?”
“Humor me.” He waited.
“Love, which hath ends, will have an end—whereas mine knows no bounds for you. All I refuse, but you.” I can’t say I said it in any sort of sweet way. I sort of blurted it all, to make him happy.
As soon as I said the word “you,” there came a sound like a distant bell.
“What did you do?” I hit his chest.
He sat, smug. “I told you.” He kissed me again quickly before I could shove him away. “Promised us.”
“You said it was like boyfriend girlfriend. Why the ominous fate bell?”
“Maybe it is a more binding than dating. Closer to engagement. Not closer than soul mate. But a choice, where soul mates is not, so Fate has a part in it.”
I glared at him. “And we were getting along so well.”
“Can’t have you forget that I am not any nicer than you are. We are both very devious, you and I.” He smiled again but a true smile, and he had a look in his eye that I’d begun to recognize.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m mad at you. You did something just now. I am not sure what, exactly and I have to figure out how to undo it eventually.”
He cut me off. “You can’t and too late. I already looked at you like that. You are naked. It’s amazing that I managed to stop looking at you long enough to get the promise done.”
“Seriously? Do you have endless stamina? And I am mad at you!”
“You won’t stay mad at me.” He pinned me to the mattress, and I went breathless from the attention he paid me. “Besides, I am living energy. So, yes, I kind of do have endless stamina. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”
His mouth closed over mine and ended the conversation. But not the battle of wills. No, it would take more than a kiss to end that.
Epilogue
I sat in my favorite spot, the window seat in Odd Stuff. Vickie sat next to me and played her DS. She had finished her homework early, and we had eaten dinner already. Mia had cooked, thankfully, so although vegetarian, it had been healthy and not created by Stouffers. I pretended to read the latest book by my favorite author, but I had read the same page four times.
Mia and Sven argued at the counter over a webpage on the laptop, and customers wandered in the store and everything appeared back to normal. I had collected a paycheck for solving the Harbor Hammer situation, so I had paid my rent to Mia and life was good.
Sven no longer murdered people, but he also had no recall of doing so. As he was Wiccan, we weren’t sure we could tell him about it and not have him flip out anyway. Murder sucks and when your life motto is and it harm none… Well, to find out you have spent your evenings bashing in people’s heads would traumatize him. We went with don’t ask, don’t tell.
Mia glowed with health again. Too healthy. Back to spelling on purpose, and when she snapped the laptop closed and glared at Sven, sparkles shot out her fingertips. Ah, life had returned to normal.
So why was I rereading the same page over and over again? Two reasons really. Vance planned to come by at dark with a book he had found on Sirens in one of his friend’s libraries. Vance and I would be friends, which felt…awkward. I was still not sure how I felt about the whole thing. I, well, I did not want to be his friend. I wanted…well, it was a moot point. He hadn’t wanted me.
End of story. It had only been a fling. Everyone has flings. So I had a fling after my divorce with a super-hot vampire. No big deal. And it had fizzled. Not a big deal at all. But I had really liked him. And I had thought he liked me. And I wanted to whine about it. But that was dumb so, moving on.
Besides that, Chance, the other really complicated male relationship in my life planned to come over to meet my daughter.
Didn’t I swear off men?
I closed the book—as I had neither retained nor comprehended the words on the page anyway—to simply twirl the ring on my fin
ger. Warm from my skin, it felt soft as butter. The stones glittered and I considered again what it meant.
What had he been thinking? For that matter, what was I thinking to agree to it? Blinded by sex. I must have been blinded by really good sex.
Stroking the ring thoughtfully, I wasn’t altogether sure that I could blame it on sex, even if it had been exceptional sex. Not that I should think of sex with my daughter a few feet away. But, wow. Seriously. That man. I blushed just thinking about it. He made the Energizer bunny seem tired.
The bell above the door jangled. As if I had called him into existence by thinking of him, Chance entered. Loose jeans hung on hips hidden by a dark red tee shirt that was covered with a suede jacket in autumny brown. Mahogany hair hung in neat ringlets around his serious looking face and his hands were stuffed into his pockets. He nodded to Mia and Sven before he walked over to take a chair from a small table near the book section. Flipping the chair backwards, he sat, and folded his arms on the back to peer at Vickie and me.
My cue. Time to introduce Vickie to Chance.
Vickie glanced up from her game with a distracted air. “Hi, Chance.”
She went back to her game and bit her lip in concentration. I, who had built up to this all day, blew out a breath that made my bangs fly into the air. All the prepared speeches that I had went out of my head in a whoosh.
Chance, never at a loss, for once seemed startled and tilted his head at her before turning in askance at me.
I shrugged and stared back at Vickie.
After a minute or so of this, she looked up. “What?” Turning her head she seemed to study us, one to the other. Then she smacked herself in the forehead and nearly took an eye out with the stylus from the game. Vickie grumbled under her breath before clearing her throat to speak. “I was into my game, sorry. If I had paid more attention, you could have done your speeches. Sorry, sorry, start over. Oh, Mom, who is this?” She gave us wide eyes, brushed her blond hair from her eyes, snapped the game closed and crossed her legs.
Odd Melody (Odd Series Book 2) Page 24