by Amelia Oz
I swallowed against the lump in my throat and entered the lobby. It was carpeted in reds and blues with pet friendly welcome signs and a decidedly retro feel. I approached the front desk on leaden feet and carefully placed the cups on the counter next to a bowl of complementary dog biscuits. I drummed my short nails on the counter and waited for the desk clerk to finish checking in a couple. I didn’t recognize anyone working. Can you tell me if a guy named Alaric is staying here? His last name? I have no idea.
"Are one of those for me?"
I froze, my neck prickling at the exquisitely timbered voice. I turned and looked up at Alaric. His dark hair was damp, and he wore jeans and Nikes. The rolled-up sleeves of his plaid shirt revealed muscular forearms. The fabric molded across his wide shoulders, narrow waist and chest as if custom made just for him. Maybe it was. He cleared his throat and tapped a rolled-up newspaper against his thigh. I realized with a start that I was standing in silence, staring at him.
"You really are stalking me aren't you, Stella?"
I gaped at him, flushing. If the floor swallowed me, I would gladly sink.
His lips twitched. "I'm just kidding."
His smile widened, and his curving lips were all I could focus on. That and his eyes, which were searching mine with an intensity that made my stomach flutter. He didn't appear unhappy about the idea of being stalked. He actually seemed pleased to see me. I blinked, trying to gather my wits.
"Uh. Yes. I mean, no! I brought you coffee." I handed him one of the cups and grabbed the other, holding it with both hands close to my chest. A paper shield.
"Hi. Uh. D-do you have a m-minute?"
"Yes, I have time." He gestured towards the nearby guest lounge area. As I walked towards the room, he placed a hand on my lower back for a moment, as if to guide me. The brief touch burned through my t-shirt. I wasn’t use to anyone touching me so casually.
We navigated around a grand piano in the opulent sitting room to find a velvet settee in a quiet corner. I sank down on its edge; my limbs close to my body.
Two academic looking women talked across a pile of papers on the other side of the room and I felt distinctly underdressed. With a start, I realized they were both staring at Alaric in appreciation as they whispered to one another. I scowled but they didn't seem to care.
Alaric sat next to me, thighs outstretched. He tossed the newspaper next to him and leaned forward with his fingers loosely locked together, paper coffee cup between them. One of his knees brushed mine, and I pretended not to notice. Oh, but I did. I stared at the lid of my cup, thinking of how to begin.
"I'm glad to see you," he murmured.
"Are you?" I searched his eyes, but his solemn expression seemed genuine.
"Yes. Definitely."
I played with my bottom lip and his eyes darkened.
"Have you always had that habit?"
"What habit?"
"You pinch your lips when you're thinking about something. It wouldn't help you in a poker game."
I dropped my hand and sat up straight as my cheeks warmed.
"I'm sorry to just show up. I don't have your phone number."
He was suddenly holding a cell phone, thumb poised. "What's your number?"
I told him and he quickly typed it into his contacts. My back pocket vibrated.
"There. Now you can reach me."
"Thanks," I mumbled. The quickness of his request helped to quell my nerves. Perhaps my surprise visit wasn't a complete nuisance. I dove right in.
"I have a proposal for you," I said, quickly, before I could chicken out. My outburst was met with silence.
He waited; his gaze watchful. The man really had the most beautiful face. The barest shadow sculpted his jawline and mouth. I pressed a thumbnail into the soft tissue that webbed my thumb and forefinger, hoping the tiny flare of pain might distract me from ogling him like the women across the room.
"I remembered you said you were in security. What kind of security are you in exactly?" I took a sip of my Americano and pulled at the strands of fabric surrounding the hole at my knee.
"What kind of security do you require?" His voice was soft.
This was the hard part. The one I'd dreaded since forcing myself to come here.
"Before I begin, let me just say that I have some money saved up. I'm not sure what a bodyguard makes hourly, but I'm guessing it's a lot more than minimum wage."
He rubbed his face and sat back, throwing an arm across the back of the settee. I rushed on before I lost track of my purpose.
"I have reason to believe that I may be in danger." My words were rushed, and I groaned inwardly.
He stiffened and sat upright. His eyes scanned the room before they returned to me. The relaxed, friendly Alaric had disappeared, replaced with a severe, unyielding version. The hair on my arms rose with an electric charge in the air. I absently rubbed my skin.
His eyes narrowed. "What danger?"
"It's hard to explain," I began. "There's this guy that goes by the moniker 'The Lion'. I'm not sure what he looks like, but I've been told he intends to kidnap me."
He blinked. I fidgeted with my cup.
"Really? And who told you this?" His low voice hummed with intensity.
"I promised not to tell anyone about my source. Look. I know this sounds crazy. Believe me, it sounds crazy to me. I don't even know this person. I mean he sounds a bit arrogant walking around calling himself 'The Lion' but my friend seems pretty convinced that this 'Lion' person—" I made air quotes, "—is going to try to nab me sometime in the next week. I figure it's better to take precautions." My fingers expanded the hole in my jeans.
"Hmm," was his only reply. I cringed but plowed on.
"Also...there's a lot of weird stuff happening around me. I need someone neutral who can help me figure it out."
"And you thought of me?"
I could deny it but what would be the point. My presence here said it all.
"Yes."
His eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and his lips curved in a masculine smile.
"You're in luck. It just so happens that I know quite a lot about personal protection. I can help you, Stella."
Relief exploded, sweet and pure. My bones felt lighter with the glimmer of hope. I inhaled a deep breath—the first comfortable one in twenty-four hours.
Now I just had to make sure I could afford him.
"We should talk about your terms. How much do you charge?"
He tilted his head. "Why don't we discuss what you might require and figure it out later?"
That didn't sit well. If he ran up a huge bill that I couldn't pay it would be a disaster.
"Why don't we agree on a day rate?" I suggested.
"Let's get through today and then figure it out," he countered. I bit my lip, afraid to push him but nervous about my budget.
"Are you free today?" His tone was casual and his question unexpected.
"Yes." Did that come out too eagerly?
"Wait—like on the clock paid time?" I checked the time on my phone.
He grinned. "No. Free, personal time that we can also use to discuss your problem as friends." I replayed his statement several times, thinking.
"Okay. I had to drop my car off at the mechanics on Burnside just now to check on a couple of things but we can walk."
"A walk. Okay. I guess that would be acceptable. I'll drive you home afterwards." He stood. "Stay here. I need to make a quick call." Under normal circumstances, anyone telling me to stay anywhere would grate on my nerves. Surprisingly, his commanding tone didn’t irritate.
He stood and wound his way through the room towards an alcove near the concierge desk. My God. The view from behind was stunning. As he passed the businesswomen, one of them called out to him, giggling. He glanced in their direction but didn't slow down. As they gawked, one even fanned herself with a notepad. I empathized.
Alaric approached the bank of elevators, pausing just
past the concierge desk. Keeping his back turned, he spoke on his phone. He was alone, the concierge busy on the other side of the lobby helping a man with a bicycle.
Just behind Alaric, large glass dispensers of chilled water with floating slices of lemon and mint sat on a table. A shadow seemed to build along the wall, leaching from behind the dispensers. I narrowed my eyes. It thickened, gathering into itself. My imagination was in hyper drive.
I blinked and rubbed my tired eyelids. Looking up once more I observed a man talking with Alaric that hadn’t been there a second ago. Alaric's head was bent and the man seemed to be mostly listening. He wore a suit and, as I stared, he glanced in my direction. I immediately pointed my gaze upwards, as if admiring the chandelier overhead. Nancy Drew I was not.
Trying to look a bit cooler, I pulled out my cell phone and confirmed I had one message from Silvan. He would be returning my sketchpad later.
"Shall we?" Alaric waited before me, his hands in his back pockets.
I nodded and stood. We walked through the living room and back towards the lobby. I paused, scanning for a trash receptacle to throw my cold coffee in. The cup was plucked from my fingers. Without a word, Alaric handed it to a young man at the front desk, and the man offered a deferential nod.
Alaric placed a hand on the small of my back and herded me towards the entrance, and I was too affected by his touch to remark on how I could walk fine all by myself. Standing on the sidewalk I felt a little at loose ends. The result of my quest had turned out better than expected. Alaric glanced back and caught my smile, matching it with one of his own.
"Where would you like to go?"
It was one of those bi-polar summer days. Raining one second and sunny the next. I raised my face to the sunshine, thinking. I really did have an errand I wouldn't mind running. Turning to look at Alaric, my breath caught at the expression on his face. He stared at me as if he liked what he saw. Maybe Silvan had been right. My chest pounded.
"Have you been to Powell's Bookstore? I'd like to find a book on curses."
He nodded, his smile fading. My breath caught, suddenly bereft at its loss. What had I said? Curses? Some people were touchy about the occult.
"I know the place. There's a café inside where we can talk." He gestured for me to go before him and we began to walk. I noticed he made sure to position himself on the street side. A few steps later and he offered me his elbow. I paused and coiled my hand around his bicep, the gesture strangely natural. His arm gently captured my hand and wrist. It was such a gentlemanly thing to do. As we walked, I peered into shop windows and looked anywhere but at the gorgeous man at my side. My fingers felt as if I were holding stone, and I tried not to surreptitiously stroke his arm like a creeper, but it was a difficult battle.
After another block I noticed a curious phenomenon. Anyone walking towards us seemed riveted on Alaric. Women and men just seemed drawn to him as we passed. Even the homeless people lying in doorways eyed his movements. This confirmed it. I was an invisible slug. No one ever watched me coming, and if someone did chance to make eye contact it was usually brief. As in, Excuse me, Miss, you have toilet paper stuck on your shoe.
Our silence was comfortable, and I was suddenly happier than I'd been in a very long time. We walked eight more blocks and stopped only once to retie my sneakers. It was early afternoon and people were enjoying the last weekend of summer. I felt part of the human race today. Not just an outside observer. Alaric paused in front of a window, a confused expression lowering his brow.
"I don't understand what this place is."
I read the sign and chuckled. "You've never seen a barbershop-bar-movie theatre combination before?"
Through the glass we could see barber chairs. Beer bottles lined the external windows, showcasing the available selection. A sign that read Movie Theater pointed towards a hallway. This was Portland at its finest. I just hoped the men cutting hair weren't intoxicated.
"This place is actually kind of famous. It has one of the oldest movie theatres in the city. You know, all red drapes and seats without cup holders?"
"I like movies," he responded simply. I impulsively tugged him towards the door.
"Let's check it out."
He followed reluctantly, eyeing the men in barber chairs. They nodded but kept up their lively conversations. I released his wrist and hustled down the narrow hallway to the theatre. A sign indicated that the first show didn't begin until four, which explained why the dark hallway and theatre ticket entrance were empty. I tugged on the theatre doors, and Alaric was suddenly there, opening them for me.
The air filled with the scent of stale popcorn and musty fabric. Low lights barely illuminated the interior space and blank screen. The screen was smaller than the chain theatres, the red velvet drapes that framed it tied back with gold satin ropes. The threadbare, red velvet seats sloped towards the screen in matching rows.
Alaric stood with hands on his hips as he surveyed the dimly lit space. I passed him and skipped down the carpeted ramp to the front of the theatre.
"Is anyone here?" I called out, thrilled when my voice echoed against the fabric draped walls. I turned to Alaric, and my heart clenched to see him smiling again. He looked so different when he smiled, more boyish. He followed me down into the theatre, watching my silly antics. I reached the front of the stage and, after making sure we really were alone, performed a little hula dance.
His laughter boomed. "You would have made a good dancer in South Pacific," he called.
"South Pacific?" I asked, swishing my make-believe grass skirt.
He shook his head, coming nearer. "It was a movie with a location set in Bali. Also, a Broadway play."
"Oh."
He stood next to me now, eyes gleaming in the low light. Shiny locks tumbled over his forehead and I suddenly wanted to know whether his hair felt as soft as it looked. We were inches apart now. His gaze drank up my face, sparking a sensation deep in the pit of my belly. "How old are you, Alaric?"
“How old do you think I am?”
I cocked my head in annoyance and he chuckled softly. "I’m twenty-two.”
Some people were just old souls. Some people were just born with a charisma that seemed beyond those of us lower species. Alaric was both. I stared at his lips and wondered once more what they felt like. If the curse were true, these feelings might be a trap, and yet there was simply no way someone like Alaric would ever end up with a regular girl like me. He was out of my stratosphere. I was a simple girl, without anything special about me to hold his interest longer than a nanosecond. Right now, I was just a curiosity to him, a diversion on a pit stop.
Alaric felt safe. He would leave soon for New York, and I would never see him again. If the curse came true, which was a huge stretch to believe, then I had no more than three years to live. I'd only kissed one boy. Would it hurt so much to take advantage of a golden opportunity?
I floated forward, nervous, until our fronts brushed. He stiffened but didn't move away. So far so good. Looking into his eyes, I slowly raised my hands until they hovered near his beautiful face. Did he notice they were trembling? He seemed to understand my intentions because he bent down, allowing me to sift fingers into his silken hair, holding my breath with the sensation. I ignored the nervous butterflies and doubt, slowly pulling his face down to mine. His eyes grew darker still, his expression cold. His neck resisted for a single heartbeat, causing me to release him—and then his face lowered, and my eyes closed.
His breath warmed my lips. Then a gossamer touch. "Breathe," he whispered against my mouth. I drew in a ragged inhalation. His unique scent drugged me as surely as his presence. Something broke deep inside me, and I pressed my lips to his. They were unyielding, but madness was firing in my veins at his proximity and I couldn’t stop myself. I felt everything at once. The hardness of his chest and thighs as I molded my body against his. The sensation of his hands as they rose to span my waist. The feel of his warm fingers as they car
essed the bare inch of skin revealed by my raised arms. His lips were velvety, his lower lip full, tempting me to bite into it.
Before I knew it, my arms were around his neck and shoulders as I lifted on tiptoes to deepen the contact of our lips. I couldn't help an embarrassing groan escape, and it seemed to trigger something within him. He answered my sound with a growl of his own.
My feet left the floor as he held me. His lips softened, sliding beneath mine. I tilted my head, gliding my tongue lightly against the seam of his lips, testing. He pulled me closer with a low moan that made my head spin. Our roles reversed and he was now the aggressor, leading us deeper into this new universe that was ours alone. My lips were taken in the most spectacular way and heat coiled and expanded everywhere.
I felt his hand cup the side of my face and then my throat. His lips scalded my skin as he kissed the side of my mouth, my jaw, and the sensitive flesh at my throat. I threw my head back to give him better access. He groaned and nibbled my skin in fiery sweeps. I never wanted this moment to end. My hands flexed against his shoulders, keeping him close.
I searched out his lips again and he gave them to me. I was a furnace, trembling with new sensations. Kissing Scott had felt nice. This was so damn different. Alaric's kiss had become the entire world. I felt one strong arm lower to hold my hips, supporting me. His other hand tangled in my hair to tilt my head to his advantage and I hung there in his arms, delirious with this new wanting.
Alaric's lips went from feasting on mine to abruptly stilled. I whimpered, needing him to reciprocate, but he remained unmoving. I kissed his cheek, my mouth trailing in tempting sweeps along his jaw like he’d done to mine—yet he inexorably lowered his chin until his face was buried in my neck. I felt his warm breath in my hair and knew he could feel the rapid race of my heartbeat. Confusion replaced desire. Had I done something wrong?
After a few quiet moments, my heart rate decreased. The reality of what I’d just done sank in. I wiggled my ankles and he lowered me gently until my feet touched the floor. I couldn't look at him. I leaned forward, hiding my face against his chest.