Love Scars

by Lark Lane

  I hit the pathway to the garden and passed Frank and Lisa, both running toward the screams.

  “Dead!” Nora stood by the fountain, screaming. “You’re dead! Dead!”

  Half a dozen clowns from the party surrounded her, staring, doing nothing. Shitheads.

  “What are you doing to her?” I said. I dismounted and tossed the bike to the side.

  “Nothing, dude,” one guy said in a drunken haze. “We were just having a water balloon fight.”

  “Yeah, just having some fun,” said another. “Harmless.”

  I put my arms around Nora, but she fought me.

  “Dead!” she screamed and pounded on my chest. Her fists were clenched and hard as rocks.

  I hugged her tighter.

  She seemed to calm down, if slightly. “You’re all de-e-e-e-ead.” Her screams morphed into sobs.

  “It’s okay,” I said. I hugged her and kissed the top of her hair. “I’m here.”

  “Time to go,” Frank said to the clowns behind me. He sounded like someone you didn’t want to cross. Maybe Brad was right about that guy.

  “Now.” Lisa glared at the assholiest of the assholes until he nodded.

  I rocked Nora in my arms. Over and over, I told her everything would be okay, with no idea of it being true. In the distance I heard Frank and Lisa chasing off the drunks and shutting the party down.

  “You’re dead,” Nora whispered, staring into space.

  Her hands were still clenched into rigid fists. I pried them open and rubbed the skin. In one hand she held the rose I’d left earlier with the fairy, and it fell to the ground. Her palm was bleeding from a thorn embedded in her skin. I pulled the thorn out and lifted her hand to my lips and kissed her palm.

  “Dead.”

  I dropped her hand and lifted her chin. Made her look at me. Her eyes slowly came back into focus, and she seemed to recognize me. Seemed to know where she was.

  “Fuck.” The word escaped me before I could think. I bent down and kissed her on the mouth. I wasn’t being Sir Galahad, far from it. It wasn’t a kiss of comfort. It was a kiss of desire. I wanted as much from Nora Deven as I wanted to give to her.

  I wanted her to kiss me back.

  Chapter 8

  They were all still dead, but the pine tree smell faded, replaced by the soothing scent of my roses. I heard the fountain and the wind chimes. In the distance Lisa yelled at someone to get the hell out and go home.

  What happened? One minute I was sitting on the iron bench in the garden, smelling a Peace rose, watching stars brighten in a darkening sky. The next minute I was in J.D.’s arms.

  He kissed me. His lips were soft but firm, and at first gentle. I melted into his embrace. Safe here. His tongue pushed into my mouth and a thrill of heat and desire shot through me and down between my legs. I pressed my hips against him and reached up behind his neck, my fingers in his hair.

  I had to have him. Please let me have him, just once. Just once let me feel like a normal girl with a normal boy, doing something normal and wonderful. Lies, all lies. There was nothing normal about it. I just wanted him to cover me with kisses, and touch me in places that would drive all the other feelings, the bad feelings, away.

  It was wonderful to fall apart in his arms.

  My left hand hurt, but both my hands were unclenched. I touched his face and anchored myself in his gaze. “Thank you,” I said, and he kissed me again. Everything went woozy, and he swept me up into his arms. God, so strong.

  The world went black.

  I woke up in my bedroom, still dressed and lying on top of the covers. J.D. sat beside the bed, hunched over with my hand pressed to his forehead.

  “Are you praying?” I said. The idea struck me funny.

  He looked up and smiled like he thought it was funny too. “You’re back.”

  He was so strong and gentle, he made me feel wonderful. I regretted dissing him as a loser before, even if I’d only said so to myself.

  “I wasn’t praying,” he said. “I don’t believe in God.”

  “Me neither. At least, I haven’t for a long time.” God couldn’t exist in my world. Or if he did, he was an asshole. “Where’s Lisa?”

  “She and Frank waited up for you. After midnight, I told them to go to bed and I’d stay with you.”

  “That was nice of you.” I glanced at the clock on my bedside table. It was after one in the morning. “You’re a good guy.”

  “Not really,” he said. I swear he blushed, and it drove me crazy. He put my hand down by my side and rested his palm flat on my stomach. My entire body tingled with desire.

  I held up my left hand. “It hurts.”

  “You were holding an American Beauty rose,” he said. “A thorn did that.”

  “Peace,” I said. He must have meant the iron fairy’s rose.

  “Peace?”

  “American Beauties are red. The pink and yellow ones are Peace roses. It wasn’t an American Beauty.”

  “You’re an American beauty,” he said.

  I would have laughed, but he was so sincere—and then I swear he blushed. I sat up and put my hand behind his neck and drew his lips to mine. I pushed my tongue into his mouth, desperate to feel his acceptance. His tongue pushed against mine as he pushed me back onto the pillow. He moaned and ran his hand over my breast, and I arched my back. His kiss was hot and insistent. I was on fire for him.

  I pulled him over me and rolled him onto his back and kissed his jaw and his neck. His skin was smooth and smelled so good. I moved down and sat between his legs and started to pull his shirt up. He sat up and ripped it off and tossed it to the floor. I tossed my tank top on the floor beside it.

  As I ran my hands over his muscled chest, he slid my bra straps down. He kissed my neck, then my shoulder, then moved down. He slid my bra down and tongued a nipple, and I slipped out of my bra and put my arms around his shoulders, luxuriating in the sweet tingling as he sucked. He moved to the other nipple. I was was so hot, pulsating, wanting, wanting.

  I pushed him back against the pillow and unbuttoned his pants. He helped me slide them down and off. I ran my fingers up his beautiful huge shaft, strong, hot, dripping. At the same time, I slid a finger between my folds and rubbed my clit.

  I moaned and let go of him and straddled him. I needed to feel him inside me.

  “Wait.” He put his hands under my armpits and lifted me and slipped out from under me. “Stop,” he said. “I can’t.”

  “You can’t?” What the fuck. “Do you need a condom?” I reached up and opened the drawer in my nightstand. “I think I have one.” It was weird, searching for a condom left by my boyfriend from months ago. “Do condoms have a sell-by date?”

  He didn’t laugh. In fact, he looked a bit nauseated.

  “Well, crap,” I said.

  It was all going terribly wrong. His face was a blank. I was right earlier. J.D. didn’t want me, despite quite erect evidence to the contrary. I swung my legs around off the bed and ran to the bathroom. I locked the door, but it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t follow me. What the hell. I had to pee, anyway.

  What was I thinking? J.D. had seen me in full-tilt meltdown. My lunatic fringe was on full display tonight. How could I ever believe he’d want to make love to that?

  I splashed cold water on my face and brushed my teeth. I found my pajama bottoms and sleep top on the floor where I’d left them this morning—yesterday morning. The bottoms were green and covered with tiny white piranhas with huge teeth. The white tank top had one big green piranha on the front. Silly, but it didn’t matter. J.D. wouldn’t see them. At that moment he was probably throwing on his clothes. I gave him a few more minutes to get out of Dodge, and opened the bathroom door.

  He was still there, still in bed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. His eyes were as beautiful and soulful as ever. It hurt to look at them.

  “Don’t be,” I said. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.” I felt awful, but a part of me was glad he hadn’t le
ft. “Can I ask you one more favor?” I said.

  “Name it.”

  “Would you mind staying with me tonight? It sounds trite, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d just stay with me tonight and hold me.”

  He opened his arms, and I climbed into bed with my back to his chest. We settled in nicely together. As if we were made for each other. As I drifted off to sleep, I could swear he kissed my ear and whispered my name.

  Chapter 9

  The window was open. Outside, the little birdies were going cheep cheep cheep. For a second, I thought I was back at home on Orcas Island. The only thing missing was Scarlett blasting The Rascals’ It’s A Beautiful Morning through Mom’s sound system.

  I was still at Nora’s place, alone in her bed. I stayed the night because riding a bike at two o’clock in the morning was suicide, especially on a weekend. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

  I’ll also admit I wanted to postpone the inevitable.

  Once I left Nora Deven’s house, I’d never see her again. It was too dangerous. She’d slipped past all my defenses and embedded herself dangerously close to my heart. Deeper than any woman had ever touched me. She was a good person. I didn't want to hurt her.

  The best way to avoid that pain was to stay away from her altogether.

  I didn’t know where she was, but the bedroom door was open and I could hear Lisa and Frank chattering in the kitchen.

  “I can’t believe you guys don’t have an espresso machine,” Frank said. “I’m bringing mine when I come to babysit.”

  “Come here, you.” Lisa laughed, and they both were suddenly quiet. My mom always says you can tell a happy house by how it sounds in the morning.

  “You’re awake.” Nora came out of the bathroom, still wearing her piranha pajamas. They cracked me up. She sat at the end of the bed and crossed her legs, and her hair fell over her shoulders.

  “Good morning,” I said. So polite. So friendly-like. I wanted to grab her and throw her under me. I wanted to devour those lips and finish what we started last night. I wanted to be inside her so bad I felt like I was going to explode.

  “Thank you for staying last night.” She seemed so cheerful, as if it nothing had happened.

  “Not a problem.” Thank God I had the blanket for cover. I sat up to adjust my extremely uncomfortable position and propped one pillow behind me and put one over my lap. “You seem to be feeling better.”

  “You were great,” she said. If she was aware of my discomfort, she didn’t let on. “Really. You have the magic touch.”

  “Right,” I said. It would be easier to think about getting away from her if she wasn’t so close. She was great. “I’ll need some magic for Brad later, I suppose.”

  “Poor Brad.” She sighed. “Lisa loves Frank. If she had any sense, she’d love Brad. But she doesn’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t get me wrong. Frank’s a sweetie pie. He’d die for Lisa. But he’s the only real boyfriend she’s ever had, and she doesn’t realize…”

  “What?”

  “She doesn’t realize how smart and creative she is. How much more she could be with the right guy. She’s going to be happy. She’ll never doubt her choice. Her life with Frank will be like having a fresh bouquet of roses every day. On the other hand, her life with Brad would be like living in the Butchart Gardens.”

  “Maybe you’re projecting,” I said. “You’re afraid you’ll settle for a bouquet when you really want a garden.”

  “I have a garden.”

  What did she mean? That she was complete? She didn’t need anyone? She didn’t need me? I should have felt relieved, but I wasn’t happy about it.

  She stared at me, her brows knit together in a frown. I had no clue what she was thinking, but she sure looked cute thinking it. “So what does J.D. stand for?” she said. “Juris Doctor? Just Desserts?”

  “I’ll never tell,” I said. “To know a person’s name is to have ultimate power over him.”

  “Ah, like Rumpelstiltskin.” Her eyes lit up. “I’ll have to guess.”

  I’m not religious or mystical, but I appreciate the trope in fantasy novels—and in the bible, if people bothered to read it—about the power of naming. I’d never admit it, but I don’t give out my real name because I’m superstitious.

  “You never will,” I said. “I’ll even give you a clue. The clue is my last name.”

  Shit. Why did I say that? She didn’t know my last name, and now I was going to just give it to her?

  “Your last name. Okay. What is it?”

  “Reider.” Dammit, dammit, fuck.

  “J.D. Reider. Rider...rider…J.” A smile spread over her face.

  “No. Fucking. Way.”

  “Your first name is Jaxom,” she said. “It’s obvious.”

  “To you and my mother.”

  “But the second name is harder. Dragon? Dracoris? Draco?” It could be anything dragonish.”

  “It’s Draco.” I surrendered. “But you’ve got to believe I wasn’t named for Draco Malfoy.”

  “Of course not,” she said. “You were born long before Harry Potter was written.”

  She was an enchantress. How did she do that?

  “Jaxom, the dragonrider.” Her eyes gleamed in triumph.

  “What can I say? My mother loves the Anne McCaffrey books,” I said. “She’s an artist, and she never does anything the normal way if she can help it. Do you like me better now?”

  Down, J.D. Do. Not. Flirt.

  “I like your mother better,” she said. “I don’t like you any less.” She looked at my clothes on the floor. “So where’s your cell phone? I’ll put my number in it, and you can call me sometime.”

  What the what? “Uh, I don’t have a cell phone.”

  She raised an eyebrow like I’d announced I was from another planet. Then her face turned red. “Oh.”

  I didn’t know why not having a phone should be embarrassing—until I realized she thought I couldn’t afford one. Good. Let her think so. It was easier than explaining I hate being on the grid. If Mom or Scarlett ever needed to get hold of me, they called Brad. If I’m ever kidnapped, the assholes will send a ransom note.

  Nora frowned at something on the floor and bent over to pick it up. One of my sandals. “Are you and Brad in the Mephisto club?” she said.

  “Brad likes good shoes,” he said. “He bought them.”

  “Seriously.” She said. “He buys your clothes.”

  “They were a birthday present.” I laughed. “We’ve been buds since grade school.” I was telling her too much. Letting her in, deeper and deeper. It had to stop.

  “Like me and Lisa.” Nora dropped the sandal. She got up from the bed and went to the door. “Frank’s still here. He and Lisa are making breakfast. There’s a fresh towel in my bathroom. You can take a shower if you want. And there’s coffee in the kitchen.”

  Then she was gone. I felt empty inside. I didn’t like it.

  I got dressed without the shower. I was going to have to ride home in yesterday’s clothes, so I’d take one later. I had no intention of staying for breakfast. The sooner I got away from Nora Deven, the better.

  I headed out of the bedroom, thinking about where my bike and helmet might be, when I heard arguing down the hall. At the bathroom door, I heard Lisa’s voice. She sounded upset.

  “I don’t trust him,” she said.

  “You don’t know him,” Nora answered. “It sounds too good to be true, sure. But what do we know about the secret lives of corporations? Look at those McMansions in Wexford and real mansions in Los Lagos. Money is different for people who have it. I think Steve’s company must have paid for the internships.”

  They were talking about Steve Heron. I’d put aside the reason I was here in the first place, and now it just fell into my lap. Jeez, poor Brad. Bad enough he couldn’t get credit for his secret good deed setting up the internships, and now credit was going to MolyMo.

  “You deserve
a vacation,” Lisa said. “You need a vacation. But there’s no way you can relax at…at that place.”

  “We need the money.”

  “We don’t need it that bad,” Lisa said.

  I walked on down the hall, my head ringing with what I’d just heard. Brad’s suspicions were right on. MolyMo was trying to move in on Barton. I could guess what happened. Barton must have honored his agreement with BlueMagick and refused to let another company on the dig, and now MolyMo wanted to make Nora their unwitting spy.

  That shit pissed me off. Brad spent over a year getting to know Dr. Barton, gaining his trust, arranging for funding, and now MolyMo thought they’d swoop in and skim off BlueMagick’s work.

  “Morning, J.D.” Frank was in the kitchen, taking a batch of cinnamon rolls out of the oven. “There’s coffee in the pot, but fair warning. It’s bad.”

  “I’ll pass.”

  “I’m bringing my espresso machine over on Wednesday for Stacey’s birthday party. One makes sacrifices, but a man needs a latte in the morning. I’ll be staying here while Nora’s gone for her internship.”

  “So I hear,” I said.

  With a redesign, this kitchen and great room area could be fantastic. It bordered the back of the house with windows running along the entire wall looking out on the deck and the backyard.

  “Ah, my bike.” The Pashley was leaning against a built-in bookcase on the far wall. “My helmet too. Thanks.” In the bookcase there was a complete set of Dragonriders of Pern. First editions. Very cool.

  “Sure thing,” Frank said. “That’s a nice piece of equipment you’ve got there. I didn’t know they sold them in the states.”

  “Really?” I hate lying. Even about small stuff to people I’ll never see again. Bad karma. “I bought it from a guy on Craig’s list. He didn’t say where he got it.” Time to change the subject. “So I guess this is a real party house.”

  “Last night was an aberration,” Frank said. “As you saw, Nora can’t take crowds. Wednesday’s just a few people over for the kid’s eighteenth.”