by Keri Lake
“Whoever did her hair this morning should be, as well,” he says, throwing the car in reverse. “Where to next? The Shoal?”
“Yes. What took you so long in there? Thought I was going to have to send in a rescue squad.”
He shrugs, looking calm and collected, the way he leans back in his seat with one hand on the wheel. “Caught up in conversation. Who were those women back there?”
“Tempest Cove clowns.”
“I’m serious.”
Huffing, I stare out the window at the sidewalks bustling with tourists. Strangers who know nothing about me. Have no idea about my reputation. “Brady’s mom and her friend, Joan.”
“Why do they have a problem with you?”
Pangs of remorse still needle my gut for not having stood up for myself. If not for my desperation to get out of this town, I’d have chanced another harassment claim, just to shut her up myself. “This whole town has a problem with me.”
“I can see why.” At his remark, I snap my attention back to him, scowling and mouth gaping for something to say. “Young. Beautiful. Intelligent. I’d be pissed, too, if I looked as unoriginal as the two of them.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “I never know whether to slap you, or kiss you, Lucian. It’s the most confusing feeling in the world.”
Eyes on the road, he sets his hand on my thigh in a possessive way. “Nobody fucks with you when you’re with me. Ever.”
The Devil of Bonesalt. The Mad Son. The monster of Tempest Cove.
Not even.
About a mile and a half up the street, he pulls into the parking lot of The Shoal, where I notice Aunt Midge’s old junker parked off in one of the designated employee spots toward the back of the lot. A nervous thrum of anxiety pulses beneath my skin as we exit the car. Rhea was relatively harmless. It’s hard to say with Aunt Midge. She knows Lucian played a part in helping with the drug dealer, but whether that’s enough to change her perception of him is up in the air.
The tired boards of the deck creak below our feet, as we walk the pier to the front entrance, the salty sea air and sound of seagulls taking me back to life before Blackthorne Manor. After passing through the invisible curtain of grease at the entrance, we step inside, the scent of seafood smacking me in the face. Irish pub music drones on in the background, where the regulars--Mac, Joe, Doherty and Paul sit in their usual seats around the bar. Conversation withers like a frosted vine, the moment they turn their heads toward us. Behind the bar, Aunt Midge eyes me up and down, and frowning, she tosses a towel onto the counter behind her before shuffling toward us. “What’s this?”
“We’re here for lunch, like I promised.”
“We?” She tips her head, and the moment she crosses her arms, looking past me toward Lucian behind me, I know she doesn’t approve. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Sure.”
Warm palms grip my shoulders, and perhaps Aunt Midge notices the way my skin reacts to Lucian’s more intimate touch because her frown deepens. “I’ll grab a table.” He strides toward one of the many open spots at the back of the bar, and I watch the other men eyeing him as he passes.
Once out of earshot, Aunt Midge tips her head to get my attention. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her gaze dips to my dress and back. “Wearing dresses now?”
“I told you. We’re having lunch. The dress was the only thing I had to wear in ninety-degree heat. Here.” I slip the check Rand issued me this morning for another week of work. “To help with the mortgage. Already signed it.”
“I’ll deposit it for you, but I’m not taking the money.” She folds the check, slipping it into her apron.
“C’mon, Aunt Midge. Don’t be difficult.”
“That’s another discussion. Right now, I want to know why you brought him here.”
“Why not?”
“Sounds too much like a date.” Again, her eyes trail down to my dress and back. “Looks like a date, too.”
“What if it is? I’m nineteen. An adult.”
“And he’s nearly twice your age, child!” She’s the master at whisper-yelling, but I don’t think she went unheard this time, as I look around the room to see all the men, Lucian included, staring back at us. “Look, I know he helped out with that Franco. But you don’t need to be getting involved with him, okay? It’s bad news.”
“You guys get a load of that? The Devil of Bonesalt himself.” Mac, one of the older fishermen sits at the end of the bar, hiking his thumb toward Lucian. “Since when do we allow monsters in our fine establishments?”
Two of the men chuckle, and only one of them shakes his head, but smiles as he’s doing it.
“Since the day you walked in, smelling like you crawled out of a watery grave,” Aunt Midge answers over her shoulder, as I lurch toward him. Always quick with the quips, which I imagine comes from working with these assholes all day.
Lucian waits in the corner, quiet, not bothering to respond to the man, at all.
“You don’t know anything about him.” My response is directed toward Mac, but my eyes are on Aunt Midge.
“Neither do you.”
“What do you suppose a man has to tell himself when he’s staring at that every day in the mirror?” Mac chimes in again, no doubt drunk.
“The same--”
Aunt Midge cuts me off, setting a hand on my shoulder, and shakes her head. “Enough, Mac. You can keep those comments to yaself.”
Still, Lucian doesn’t say a word, and I can’t tell if the idiot’s ignorant comments are starting to get to him, or not.
“I should’ve known better than to bring him here.” Teeth gritting, I shoot a glare toward Mac that he doesn’t bother to notice, too caught up in staring back at Lucian.
“It’s not my fault he’s garnered the reputation.” Aunt Midge glances back toward the bar. “These guys are assholes. What’d you think? They were going to welcome him with open arms?”
“Okay, well, if I can’t have my opinions, maybe a suggestion.” Mac is one slap away from my wrath. “I propose the ugliest bastard in the room buy a round of drinks for everyone.”
If fire could shoot from my eyeballs, the old man would be engulfed in flames right now.
“I could certainly afford that tonight,” Lucian finally says, sitting forward in his chair. “But I suppose that’d leave you broke every other night.”
There’s a moment of deafening quiet, before the other men at the bar belt out laughter, and Aunt Midge shakes her head again, chuckling as she heads back toward the bar. “All right, now that deserves a round.”
Mac shakes his head, burying the next smartass retort in his beer glass.
Still fuming, though, I make my way toward the table, knocking the old man in the shoulder along the way, and take my seat across from Lucian. “Here, I thought I had to protect you.”
“You underestimate my bastardly charm.”
“Indeed.”
Aunt Midge sets a mug of beer in front of Lucian. “What can I get the two of you to eat?” She nudges my shoulder. “Already know what you want.”
“I’ll have whatever she’s having.”
“Two bowls of cat piss. Comin’ up.”
Frowning, Lucian leans back in his chair. “What?”
“I think she’s trying? It’s hard to tell with her sometimes.” I chuckle, staring back at him.
Tipping back a sip of beer, Lucian grimaces when his throat bobs with a swallow, and he sets the glass down. “Speaking of cat piss.”
“Yeah, everyone here calls it Nasty Light. I probably should’ve warned you.”
It takes twenty minutes for our meal to arrive: two Cokes with two sloppy lobster rolls, and when I bite down into mine, I realize how long it’s been since I’ve had the non-gourmet variety of food. Closing my eyes, I savor the taste of familiarity, the flavors of Aunt Midge’s cooking, and let out a quiet, “Mmmm.” When I open them, Lucian is watching me, his jaw slowing working the food as he chews.
“You eat lik
e you’re making love to it.”
“I missed Aunt Midge’s cooking. And I like food.”
“I like a number of things that I don’t indulge in as passionately as you with that lobster roll.”
“That’s a shame. You should always approach the things you enjoy with passion.”
Setting the lobster roll down, imperfectly perfect lips smile again, and I know he has another punchy comeback ready to go. Instead, he studies me in silence for a moment. “I have to admit, you’re not what I expected.”
“What were you expecting?”
“Not you.”
“Good? Bad?”
“Good, unfortunately.”
“Why is that unfortunate?”
“Because this is supposed to be filler, but you’re making me curious about the plot.”
Lowering my gaze, I bite back the smile itching to break free. “What are you curious about?”
“How a girl like you isn’t fighting off every swinging dick in this town.”
I lean in, keeping my voice low so Aunt Midge, or anyone else, can’t hear me. “Maybe I like yours best of all, Mr. Blackthorne.”
His eye twitches with a smirk. “Careful. That’s how innocent girls get dragged off into the woods by the devil. Isn’t that how the story around here goes?”
Snorting a laugh, I nod. “Something like that. And is that a threat, or a promise?” Gaze locked on his, I lean forward and capture the straw with my lips, taking a sip of my Coke.
“Both.”
“Well, then, I better lock my door tonight,” I say, just above a whisper.
“I insist that you don’t.” Beneath the table, his knee brushes mine, and the way he stares down at me, licking his lips, before he bites into his sandwich, sends a ripple of excitement down my spine.
We finish our lobster rolls, and as I suck down the last of my soda, Lucian stands up from the table, dropping two hundred-dollar bills for a twenty dollar meal.
Aunt Midge scurries over, frowning down at the cash atop the bill. “I’ll see what I have for change in the till.”
He waves his hand in dismissal, sliding his hand in mine as I push up from my chair. “A round of drinks. Courtesy of the ugliest bastard in the bar.”
Mac makes a growling noise in his throat, lifting his beer in the air.
“Next time keep your mouth shut,” Aunt Midge says over her shoulder, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her apron. “Was nice meeting ya, Mr. Blackthorne.”
“You, as well.”
“And, you.” Her eyes dip toward mine and Lucian’s clasped hands, and when they fall on me again, they’re winged up with worry. “Behave, all right?”
I sneak a glance toward Lucian and smile as I nod. “Always.”
Once again, we’re back in Lucian’s car, and as he fires up the engine, his eyes cruise over me and down to my legs. “Any other errands this afternoon?” he asks, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes.
“Nope.”
“Good. One more second in this town, and I might burst into flames.”
“I always thought the devil was one to cast flames, not succumb to them.” I slide the seatbelt across my body, where it slips between my breasts, and I click it in place.
He seems to take notice, staring for a moment, before he throws the car in drive. “So did I. Until you decided to wear that dress.”
Chapter 48
Lucian
The speedometer hovers around a-hundred-twenty on the ride back to the Manor. The trees that whip past the window are nothing but a black blur beneath the moon that sits high overhead.
Beside me, Isa curls her fingers into mine, squeezing and releasing, as the anxiety undoubtedly escalates with every mile the car swallows up like a reckless game of Pac-Man. Only the quiet hum of the motor can be heard beneath her nervous whimpers.
“Okay, this is … really fast.” If not for the belt strapping her in, she looks like she’s ready to crawl out of her skin.
“You’re nervous.” The needle edges past one-thirty. One thirty-five.
“We … we’re … almost going a-hundred-fifty miles-an-hour.”
I slide her hand onto my lap over the rock-hard erection that’s been pressing against my zipper for the last hour. The pressure through the fabric is enough to send a zap of ecstasy shooting up my spine, and on reflex, I hit the gas harder.
She slices her gaze toward me, eyes wide on my groin, where her hand grips my shaft. “Jesus. You’re like stone right now.”
Adrenaline courses through me, the speed and her delicate hands drawing me closer to the edge. But that’s not the only reason.
Being with her today, seeing her in this element, how she’s learned to survive with all the shit life has thrown at her, has only made her more irresistible to me. I want to steal her away from these vultures who’d pick at her bones until there’s nothing left of her. The same ones who’ve picked at me. Ones who’ve ravaged and discarded her. I want to shield her from their petty scorn and judgment.
I’ve been careful to avoid repeating my mistakes, but Isa is the kind of girl to make me pile them up like a fucking stack of pancakes with syrup on top. She makes me reckless and possessive.
With a squeeze of her hand, the car accelerates. Faster and faster. I tighten my fist around hers, grinding my teeth to keep from combusting, but it’s not enough. I need more.
I press the brake and jerk the wheel toward the shoulder of the road, squealing to a stop that sends her hands flying out to keep from bashing into the dashboard.
“What are you doing?”
“C’mon.” I flick my fingers for her to climb onto my lap. That dress has been messing with my head all night, and I can’t take it anymore. I want her. One taste.
There isn’t much room in the car, but she slides over the console and wedges one knee beside me, the other propped up on the driver’s door panel. Grabbing either side of her face, I pull her in for a kiss, rougher than I intend.
Doesn’t matter how many times we do this, her lips always taste like candy. A sticky, strawberry lollipop that I could lick for hours and never tire of the flavor.
My phone buzzes against the console beside me, but I ignore it, instead focusing on the softness of her skin as I eat the soft moans that leak from her lips.
The phone buzzes again.
Isa breaks from the kiss and looks down at it. “It’s Rand.”
“Fuck Rand,” I say, pulling her to my face again.
“What if it’s your mother?” she asks against my mouth, and at the mere mention of the woman, everything inside of me deflates. With a groan, I swipe up the phone. “Yeah.” The irritation in my voice is both unmistakable and intentional.
“Forgive me, Master, but I just received a call from Dr. Voigt. He’s been trying to reach you in your office.”
“I’m not in my office.” As Isa slides back toward the console, I squeeze her thigh to keep her from moving off my lap.
“I realize that, Sir. Um, I didn’t know you’d planned to be out this afternoon.”
The aggravation is killing my libido by the second. “What is the nature of his call?”
“He asked that you make a trip up to the Institute this week. He apparently has some important matters to discuss with you.”
Important matters. I can’t think of a single thing he’d need to discuss that would warrant a trip to Vermont.
“Can you give me any hints?”
“I’m afraid he didn’t divulge any to me.”
Throwing my head back against the seat, I pinch the bridge of my nose to settle the urge to throttle something, as Isa climbs back over to her seat.
Like I have time for this shit.
Not going to Vermont means that Friedrich starts nosing around in my affairs again, though.
“Fine. I’ll fly out first thing tomorrow. Get it over with early in the week.”
“Very good. I’ll let him know. Again, my apologies for interrupting you, Sir. He seemed quite adamant tha
t you make this trip.”
“I’m sure. Thanks.” I click out of the call and toss the phone onto the console, my mood officially soured. “Should’ve ignored it.”
“I’m sorry. I just thought--”
“It’s not your fault.” I lean to the side and seize her lips for another kiss, wanting nothing more than to pick up where we left off, but the frustration of having to play along with Friedrich to keep those bastards out of my hair is the equivalent of grinding my dick against a cheese grater.
Just not in the mood, all of a sudden.
Leaning back into my seat, I start up the engine and throw the car in drive.
The sooner I get home, the sooner I can take an ice cold shower.
Chapter 49
Isadora
Mondays have always been the dreaded first day of the week, but today is significantly less dreadful, in spite of the noises that kept me up again last night. At first, I thought it was Lucian, sneaking into my room, but when I flicked on the light, there was nothing there.
There’s something inside these walls, though. I can’t say what it is, as I’m always half asleep when I wake from it, but I feel it watching me.
I’ve never believed in ghosts, or the many myths that plague this island, but I’m beginning to wonder if I should.
I take the elevator up to Laura’s room, spinning the gorgeous bracelet over my wrist. No one has ever given me something so beautiful in my life, and I want to tuck it away so it doesn’t get lost, or broken, but I made a promise to Lucian that I wouldn’t take it off.
If Laura asks, I’ll just have to work up an excuse, like I found it in a McDonald's bathroom, and when I tried to return it, the owner told me to keep it. I chuckle to myself at the ridiculous story that, even in her mental state, she wouldn’t buy.
After Lucian and I returned from running errands yesterday, he decided he needed to get some work accomplished, and I haven’t seen him since.
He claims this is nothing but sex between us, and I’m okay with that, since he made it clear from the start. Except, all weekend long, he referred to me as his.