"I dunno," Pilar said.
I couldn't, but Pilar had just leveled up for keeping that info to herself.
Maybe it was the break or Soraya's particular brand of distracting drama, but I wasn't stuck anymore. My fingers flew across the keys and I was a vessel again, a mere tap that was fully open. I was never sure where the words came from when they came like that, so easily and quickly. But I was certain all creative types experienced some form of it: a connection to something beyond themselves that poured into them both inspiration and creative magic.
It was Brody's snoring that eventually pulled me out of the writing fugue. It was so loud, I heard it over my earphones. I couldn't understand how he hadn't woken himself up, let alone how Pilar slept peacefully in the hollow of his shoulder.
Turning up my music wasn't an option, not without risking hearing loss, but I couldn't stand Brody's inhuman snoring.
The worst part was that it was erratic. The third time his choking, gargling death-rattle startled me enough to jump, I seriously considered putting a pillow over his face.
"Brody!" I stage whispered. And like I'd hoped, Brody's previous relationships had trained him to reposition himself. He was still snoring, but it wasn't at a deafening decibel.
I slipped easily into the same headspace and wrote for a few more hours. I'd just finished the climax and was working on some loose ends when Amari reappeared.
"Are you in a place where you can stop?" he asked quietly so as not to disturb Pilar and Brody.
I didn't want to stop. I was glad for the distraction of writing; it meant I didn't have to think about how much tension there was between us. And I definitely didn't want to talk about it now. What if I lost control again and threw another fit?
But I nodded anyway, saved twice, and emailed the whole manuscript to myself.
"We've been butting heads a lot," he said as he got a chair from the dining room and put it in front of me.
I sighed. I didn't think "butting heads" quite covered spying on me for my mother.
Amari gave me an ear-to-ear grin. This was where he shined. Ever the diplomat, he could see all sides of an issue and break them down without judgment. He was very good at keeping the peace among practitioners.
I knew that, and yet confrontation was still so uncomfortable. That, and I might lose control and hurt someone. That's what I was most afraid of.
"I won't ever push energy at you again. Unless you've asked for it. I think that was the first thing you were upset about, yes?"
OK, he was doing this chronologically, not in the order of seriousness. I could deal with that. I nodded. "Thank you. But I don't understand why you thought that would ever be OK."
"The first time was because I truly wanted to do it for you. The second, over the phone, I thought was just an extension of the pain you were experiencing. You seemed to be spinning out of control because of your knee and the bonding side effects and the stress about your book." Amari paused and wiped a hand across his tired face. "I honestly thought I was helping. I'm sorry I didn't give you the space to deal with it your own way. It won't happen again."
Amari moved on. "I suggested that you write something else because I can't stand seeing you hurting or struggling. I suggested it because it was easier for me, and that was selfish."
"But you know how important this is—how much time I've spent on it. Just the research alone took me nine months total, not to mention the cost of world travel. You don't get to be selfish about my work, Amari because it's MY work."
"You're absolutely right, and I'm sorry."
I nodded, accepting his apology.
"Now about your mother.”
My insides tightened. I didn’t want to have this argument. “I should have come to you. I should have told you from the beginning."
"So why didn't you?"
"Zora, the few details you've given me about your childhood and your relationship with your mother made me think you'd be better off not knowing."
Amari read my expression before I had a chance to give words to it. "I know, I know, I shouldn’t have made the decision for you. I know you, I know you like your freedom and space. I just thought you not knowing that your mother was interested in your life would be easier."
"Easier for who?" I asked.
"For you. It was torture keeping it from you for so long. And telling Soraya only enough to keep her satisfied without her getting suspicious was a tricky line to walk."
He'd done it to protect me. I knew that, but I still felt betrayed. It still hurt.
He’d never lied to me, though. If he had, my hand would have known.
Amari was saying all the right things, and I knew he genuinely meant them, but I could feel myself getting worked up about it again.
It started deep in my gut—a hot, volatile anger that I couldn't understand. I gripped the arms of the swivel chair, trying to force it away or out of me, anything, as long as it wasn't in me.
I locked my eyes on Amari's deep brown ones, trying to stay centered, trying not to give into this terrible rage.
"Um, Z, you're melting my chair." I snatched my hands away from the now misshapen metal armrests and clasped them together.
Amari snatched me out of the chair by a wrist. "Come on," he said and pulled me out of the loft.
29
"What are we doing up here?" I demanded, snatching my wrist from Amari's grasp. "Didn't we JUST talk about you not doing things for me because you think I can't handle it?" In the time it took Amari to lead me from the loft to the roof of the building, the gut-deep rage had traveled to my whole body.
"There's a difference between helping you and thinking you're incapable of helping yourself. I have never thought that about you. Not once." His tone was flat, emotionless. Amari was using his detached diplomatic side on me.
But I was focused on a point on the horizon, trying not to combust.
Amari took my shoulders, trying to level my gaze on him, but he yanked his hands away as soon as they touched my skin.
"Zora, you have to get control of this; you're pulling in far too much. Ground it or release it."
Fire and heat, that's all I could feel. The early morning fall air that I knew should have been cool on my skin felt like hot breath licking at me. The cement under my bare feet should have been cold but it was as warm as bath water.
I'd misread it. The heat within me wasn't rage—at least, not all of it.
I reached for Amari. "It's not…" I started.
"It's not what?" He backed away from me. "You've got to stop bottling your emotions, Z."
"It's not dangerous," I sighed and locked my fingers around his retreating hand. Amari's eyes went wide and blackened. The amount of heat and desire I shoved at him was more energy than I'd ever accessed before. Way more than I'd ever accused him of pushing at me.
“You can handle this,” I said.
Amari closed the distance between us in half a step. His mouth was inches away from mine, threatening the same hard, desperate kiss as before.
"Wait." With some of the energy slaked, I was suddenly unsure and stopped him with a firm hand on the chest. "Help me ground some of it."
"You can handle it," he softly teased and tilted my chin up with a single finger. Again he hovered inches above my lips, waiting for me to meet him.
I did not keep him waiting.
As before, the tension from every time we'd started and stopped came crashing down on us. We licked and bit at each other. I pulled off his clothes and he ripped mine. I felt like a free and wild thing, with no concern for appearance or decorum. That wasn't too much of a stretch for me—sex had always been a way to let all my walls down—but this was more, different, bigger.
Amari licked up the side of my neck with a broad, flat stroke. The moisture on his tongue sizzled when it touched my skin.
"Do you hear that?" he breathed into my ear. "Your skin is so hot, you're literally boiling."
"Yours too," I said, and licked him with the same
flat and sizzly tongue, continuing it across his jawline to his mouth. I devoured him. I kissed him hard and fast, matching his intensity.
"What is this?" he panted against my lips.
"Dunno, don't care."
I don't know how long we stood there, naked and kissing, breathing in and worshiping each other, but when some of the energy bled out, when the intensity was more manageable, I led Amari to one of the wrought-iron deck chairs.
"That's going to be cold," he said and tried to lead me to the cushioned wicker sofa.
"Trust me," I said, and gently shoved him at the chair.
Amari's eyes went wide with surprise. "Oooh, it feels like—”
I cut him off with a smile and a finger on his lips. "I told you so," I said and took a greedy moment to stare at his beautiful body. I wanted to take my time, but the energy and Amari’s lean lines wouldn't let me just look for long.
Straddling the chair, I sunk my hands into Amari's thick, wavy hair and offered him my torso. He slid both hands up my sides and traced his way back down my spine. While his hands teased and stroked the skin of my back, his mouth paid attention to my front. He kissed and licked, bit and sucked his way from navel to collar bones only pausing along the path to give attention to each breast.
Amari stopped when he came to the hollow of my throat; it was as far as he could reach. "I want your lips." His quiet and low growl gave me a chill from scalp to spine. Amari let a sly smile escape him at the sight of my telltale shiver. "Why does my voice do that to you?"
"You talk too much," I said and silenced his lips with my own.
Energy built again, and soon we were breathless and frenzied for each other. Amari's hands settled on my hips as I raked fingers through his hair. "I don't think we've ever tried this position before," he said and pushed lightly on my hips.
"That's why I chose it," I whispered into his ear and slowly lowered myself on to him. "Gods," I said, grabbing fistfuls of his hair, trying not to let the energy overwhelm me and end our rooftop fun.
It wasn't so easy for Amari. His eyes rolled up, and through slightly parted lips, he let out a low groan.
"Did you just—without me?"
"Yeah," he said with a puzzled expression. "But there was no—um confetti? It was just the party."
It took me a minute to catch up to his analogy.
"I can keep going," he said, and with a knowing smile, Amari pushed himself deep into me, bringing me to the quickest "party" I'd ever had.
"Holy fuck!" I said, shuddering on his broad shoulders. I pulled back, meeting Amari's eyes. We were thinking the same thing.
"You wanna?"
"Yes."
We kept going, this time slower and more deliberate. The energy of before was still present, but we found we could control it better. The more of it we let in, the faster and more intensely we came. We spent hours finding the perfect amount needed for a slow buildup and an intense orgasm. Our bodies seemed to be made for it; I didn't get tired or sore, and Amari was always hard and ready.
"Our sex has always been exceptional," I said while stroking Amari's long, dark waves. The sun was just coming up over the buildings, streaking the sky with fluorescent smears of orange and pink. "Even in the beginning, there was no awkward adjustment period; we were always fantastic in bed together. But this. This is something different."
"Mhm. And I think it's no coincidence that it's happened just after you became an initiator."
That reminded me. “I want to hear about what you learned when I was initiating.”
Amari tensed lightly under me. It was barely perceptible, but I noticed. “A lot. But now is not the time.”
I nodded, content to bask, and watched as Amari laced his fingers in mine. We'd moved from the deck chair to the wicker sofa. Amari was sprawled out, head in my lap.
"I don't know if I always want it like this,” I said. “Don't get me wrong, it was fun, but it didn't really feel like us.”
"I know what you mean. You didn't glow at all."
Without the weird new energy making everything seem hot, our nude rooftop sprawl was getting uncomfortably chilly. Amari sat up before I could say as much. "We'd better get you downstairs before that thing gets any worse," Amari said, motioning to my knee.
"Shit," I said and let Amari carry me to his loft. Every time my knee reopened, it was less painful and less gross. Progress was being made, but I wasn't thrilled about how long it was taking.
"Look," Amari whispered as we entered the loft. My knee slowly closed itself, and I was still in the doorway. "I guess you don't have to be as close to Brody now."
"Guess not," I said. Amari put me down in the living room and both of us stalked quietly to the bed. We fell asleep easily, entwined in the other's limbs, listening to the sounds of the other's breathing. And Brody's occasional snores.
30
Brody and Pilar were on completely different schedules than me and Amari. They were up and moving around the loft at eight in the morning.
Amari was a sound sleeper, but I was not, and the third time I was jarred awake by a creaky floorboard or a muffled giggle, I sat up in bed, pushed the matted curls out of my face, and threw a pillow in the direction of the noise. I wasn't sure if I made contact with the offending party, but the startled "Eeeep!" that followed told me I was pretty close.
The last thing I heard was the front door closing and heavy footsteps on the hidden staircase.
"They're gone," Amari grumbled from under a pillow.
"Yeah, but they'll be back, I'm sure," I said into the comforter and drifted back to sleep.
What seemed like moments later the scent of dark, rich coffee wafted into my awareness, as well as Brody and Pilar's soft whispering. I cracked a reluctant eye and peeked at Amari's alarm clock.
"Hey," I croaked and pushed at Amari's arm. He grunted something unintelligible. Neither of us were morning people. "Amari, it's nearly eleven."
Amari shot out of bed and streaked across the loft to the shower. He moved so quickly, Brody didn't have time to complain about his nakedness. I shrugged at Pilar's embarrassment. "He's got to open the bar," I said.
"We brought breakfast," she said, trying to wipe her expression back to neutral.
"And clothes," chimed in a freshly showered Brody who held up the duffle bag I kept in the back of my closet.
"Uh—"
"Don't worry, I picked them out," Pilar said to my horrified expression.
"Good. I can leave here and go straight to meet Soraya." I wrapped a sheet around me, took the duffle bag and met Amari in the shower.
It was a quick, perfunctory shower—neither of us even touched the other. Still, as we toweled dry, I felt the same heat as before rising in my palms. "You'd better get out of here before I accidentally jump you."
Amari just smiled at me. "So you know, I'm expecting a rematch. Something more like 'us.’"
I looked at my sweating palms and wondered what answers my mother held. "Me too," I said, unsure if I'd even be capable of getting back to "us.”
"So, where are we headed?" Brody asked me as we got into his Audi. Since I liked it so much, this time I’d paid attention to the make.
Since we'd walked to Amari's, Pilar offered to drop us off at my condo to pick up our cars on her way to work. I'd never asked Pilar what she did now that she didn't work for the Corporation, but I did know her company had a very liberal take on actual in-office time. Basically, as long as the work got done, they didn't care what time she showed up.
“No clue,” I said and closed my eyes.
I tugged at the ill-fitting shirt Pilar had packed for me. I could have gone in to get a different shirt and some other things Pilar couldn't have known I wanted, but I was anxious to get to Soraya's. After I'd showered at Amari's, I grabbed his laptop and my duffle bag, and nearly dragged Brody out of the loft.
"I will need a little direction here," he said after a few moments of patient idling in the parking lot.
Soraya had given
me no contact information and no clue about where to meet her.
But that was fine by me. "Give me a minute," I said, closing my eyes again, counting my breaths. "And hold on to something. You're not going to like this."
"Wait, what?"
I bowed my head and folded my hands. I looked like I could have been praying, but I was casting a net. Extending a part of my awareness over the city, I searched for any sensation that resembled Soraya. It was a magnified version of what I'd done with Amari's laptop. "Got it," I said, feeling her cloying and composed manner a few blocks away. "Head west," I said to Brody's increasingly green complexion.
"You could have warned me you'd be ripping a piece of yourself away from me."
"I said you wouldn't like it." I shrugged. There was no other way to do it.
"You know, you can be really callous sometimes," Brody said, gaze focused on the road.
"And you can be extremely needy. What's your point?"
Brody was silent the rest of the trip. Except for saying the occasional "turn here", so was I.
"Are you sure this is it?" he asked when we turned into the parking lot of a large, unkempt bookshop.
"I think so," I said, surveying the missing shutter and crumbling concrete steps as I got out of Brody's car. "Are you coming?" I asked him as he fiddled with his phone.
"I wasn't sure if you wanted me to," he said self-consciously and stepped out of the car.
"Of course I do, just let me take the lead."
"Sure," he agreed and followed me up the steps.
The shop utterly failed as a bookstore. The space was poorly lit; bare, flickering fluorescent fixtures discouraged browsing, and the air was thick with a musty, damp smell.
"I don't think anyone is here," Brody said, eyeing the unattended counter at the back of the store.
"If that were the case, the door would be locked."
Movement caught my eye at the back of the store. What I'd taken for a wall at first glance was actually a perfectly smooth and unusually still white curtain. I smiled to myself and motioned for Brody to follow.
Enthralled Magic (The Circle Series Book 1) Page 11