Craving

by Sofia Grey

  “Hey, how do you feel? Can I get you anything?”

  “Drink?” My voice came out as a croak. Kitten produced a glass of water and held it steady while I sipped. “Thanks.”

  Sinking back against the pillow, I raised my hands, rubbing my face and trying to wake up properly. My memories of the night had great gaping holes. “Kitten, did I hurt anyone?”

  She moved to kneel on the bed beside me, the glass of water still in her hand, shaking her head in reply. “No, we’re all fine. But it was kind of scary. What happened to you, Dante?” Kitten inched closer and stared, intent on the answers I couldn’t give her.

  I felt like a bug under a microscope.

  “Dante, I need to know. Is this normal for you? And why were you adamant I didn’t call a doctor? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  There was tons of stuff I wasn’t telling her. “It’s happened a few times. It wipes me out.” I hesitated, unsure how much to say. “I don’t want to end up in hospital with no protection.” I swallowed, my throat still dry and scratchy.

  “Protection. D’you mean the salt lines? And the herbs?”

  I nodded.

  “Nanette said she took care of that here.” Lines of worry creased her forehead, a flicker of something in her eyes. “But it didn’t protect you very well in the tower, did it?”

  “That was different. I summoned the spirit, and it was stronger than I expected. Then Chaz broke the circle. That didn’t help.” I stretched, feeling warm and comfortable, and strangely safe. “Is Nan still here?”

  “I sent her home.” Kitten held the glass to my lips while I drained it. “Do you want anything else?” She distractedly ran a hand through her hair. “We need to talk about this. Will you feel up to it in the morning?” Her eyes cast left and right around the room, avoiding me.

  “Yeah, no, I’m good. Thanks. And we’ll talk tomorrow.”

  An awkward silence fell between us. Kitten pleated the edge of the duvet with her fingers, and I suddenly realized this was her bed. “I’ll go back to the sofa. This is your room.”

  Her eyes finally locked with mine. “No, it’s okay. It just feels a bit weird, that’s all. It’s not like we’re a couple or anything.” She fiddled with her hair some more as a hint of a smile crept over her face. “I’ll stay here and read, you get some sleep. And if you need anything, let me know.”

  “Talk to me,” I blurted. Her eyebrows rose, and I softened my tone. “I like the sound of your voice. Read me your book.”

  Her lips twitched up at the corners. Yes, that was a smile. “Read to you? You might not like my choice of material.”

  “Try me.” I made myself comfortable and half-closed my eyes, watching through thin slits as she settled back into the chair. She picked up a slim paperback and flicked through the pages.

  “It’s Pride and Prejudice. Should I just carry on where I got up to?”

  “Uh-huh.” The pillows were soft beneath me. I wriggled my shoulders as I relaxed, enjoying the sensations, a far cry from my usual bed.

  “Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile. “Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume,” said Miss Bingley, “and pray what is the result?”

  The words washed over me, meaningless, yet gentle. It felt as though she was stroking me inside my skin. I focused on her mellow tones, wallowing in the luxury of feeling like a small child again. Gran used to read to me in bed. She alone didn’t worry about my talking to people she couldn’t see, and she understood my fears of the bogeyman. Would I ever have her back?

  I realized something with a start. Kitten made me feel safe in the same way. I mulled this over, noting belatedly that she’d gone quiet. I cranked open my eyes, wondering if she’d nodded off. She hadn’t.

  “I thought I might have sent you to sleep. Should I carry on? Or am I boring you?”

  “What’s it about?”

  “Pride and Prejudice?” Her voice rose, and she sounded scandalized. “It’s a classic piece of literature. You’ve never seen the film? Or the TV adaptation?”

  “Nope.” I turned to lie on my side so I could watch her more easily. From here, I had a lovely view of her breasts, generous curves lurking beneath a tight pink T-shirt. Very sexy. And very off limits.

  2.5 Katherine

  “It’s one of Ellie’s favorite pieces of television, where Colin Firth rises from the lake in a wet shirt.” I realized I was babbling and forced myself to sound more normal. The snake tattoo pillowed his head, while the dragon’s eyes seemed to gaze at me from Dante’s arm, which rested on his chest as he rolled to stare at me. I dropped my eyes to the paperback on my lap.

  “Pride and Prejudice is a timeless love story. Mr. Darcy is too proud, while Lizzie Bennett is prejudiced against him. Despite their differences, they’re attracted to each other.” My cheeks warmed, and I glanced at him through the curtain of my hair. A lazy grin spread across his face, his eyes hooded. Gods. He couldn’t be less like the delectable Mr. Darcy if he tried. I visualized Dante in a billowing white shirt and tight breeches. Nope. Definitely not Mr. Darcy. But neither was I the naïve and prejudiced Lizzie Bennett.

  Dante yawned, covering his mouth. “I’ve not read much. And my taste in movies doesn’t run to love stories.” He sounded disgusted by the thought.

  “Let me guess—action flicks? Sci-Fi? Horror perhaps?”

  A short laugh. “Now who’s prejudiced? I’m a guy, therefore I only want to watch fast cars and guns, with a side helping of scantily clad chicks, yeah?”

  “Name your top five films.”

  “What’s yours?”

  I thought for a moment. “Independence Day, Notting Hill, The Shining, Chocolat and probably either The Birds or Rebecca. I like classic Hitchcocks.”

  “That’s six.”

  “Two of them are tied for fifth.”

  He nodded slowly. “Can I claim a series as one film?” I nodded. “Godzilla series, Fast and Furious series, The Pink Panther movies—the originals with Peter Sellers—and anything with Angelina Jolie in it.” His grin was just too inviting. My pulse thrummed as I considered his choices.

  “I was partly right. Sci-Fi, fast cars and Angelina Jolie.”

  “So bite me.” He sounded sleepy, and moments later, another yawn emerged. As he burrowed into the pillow, he muttered, slightly croaky, “Where do you come from, Kitten? Why are you so keen on séances?”

  I fell back on my usual half-truths. “I’m studying my Masters in Critical Psychology at Manchester Uni. These séances are part of the research for my dissertation.” I slipped my bookmark into place and closed the book, buying myself a few moments. “My family lives in Wilmslow, so I don’t bother with student accommodation. It’s easier to live at home.” My father wants to keep me close. “I’m planning a year in Europe after my final coursework, then I’ll probably study for my PhD.” Except, I’m not planning on coming back.

  I smiled down at him, mildly envious of the long dark lashes resting on his cheeks. With his hair ruffled and messy, he looked entirely sweet and unthreatening. My mind flashed to the events earlier, and I issued myself a firm reminder. Warm and fuzzy feelings were absolutely not allowed. I wanted Dante for one purpose only. I wondered if he’d fallen asleep.

  “How do you know Tristan?”

  Okay, not asleep yet. “He’s part of my study group. They all are.”

  Silver eyes peered up at me. Again, I had the disconcerting feeling that he could read my thoughts. “Is he your boyfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Tell me about your godparents.”

  I hesitated. Once more, the truth was too complicated to share. “Not much to say. We’re close. I spent a lot of my summer holidays here. The farm belonged to Sam’s parents. He took over when they retired. He’s trying to diversify his crops, moving into organics and herbs.”

  Dante stayed silent this time and I breathed an inward sigh of relief. I leaned back against the pillows and picked up my book, only I couldn’t concentrate
. Dante had assumed I was seeing Tristan. He’d not asked if I had a boyfriend. I wondered how he’d react if he knew the truth.

  2.6 Dante

  I awoke some time later, dying of thirst again. Where was I? I quickly scanned my surroundings. Yep, still in Kitten’s bed. She slept in her chair with her back to me, arms tight around a pillow, knees curled up. Little snuffling noises emerged. I took in my surroundings. She’d left the bathroom light on and the door ajar to let a narrow shaft of light spill into the room. I guessed it was to act as a nightlight for my benefit. My chest warmed at the thought.

  There was enough light for me to make my way out of the bedroom, and I moved silently, my footsteps muffled by thick socks. It wasn’t fair to disturb her. I flicked on the light over the counter, found a tumbler and filled it with cold water. I emptied the glass in seconds. I was stronger now, my muscles less shaky, but a dull headache remained. I drank a second glass of water and pressed the cold tumbler to my forehead. I should be fine to leave in the morning.

  A noise from the bedroom broke into my thoughts and I padded back to the doorway, peering into the gloom. Kitten was still asleep, but shifting and restless now, with little whimpering sounds escaping from her mouth. I had enough nightmares without seeing someone else go through one. Gran always used to wake me.

  I stood next to the chair and leaned down. “Kitten,” I whispered into her ear. “Kitten, wake up.”

  Her body trembled beneath my hand as I closed my fingers around her shoulder. The T-shirt was absurdly soft beneath my fingers. Her perfume filled my nostrils, something fresh and summery that conjured up images of sandy beaches and foamy surf.

  “Kitten.” I spoke louder and it worked. She drew in a short gasping breath, then a longer more ragged one before rolling to face me. My hand dropped away as she moved.

  “Dante?” She sounded bewildered. Her eyes blinked rapidly at me as her chest heaved, those glorious breasts almost touching me.

  My mouth dry, I swallowed and tried to focus on her face, on the tears that had escaped. “Hey.” Moving slowly, I gently wiped under her eyes. “You okay, Kitten?”

  “Katherine.” Even though upset, she managed to sound sharp, and I tried not to smile.

  “You look far more like a kitten that’s had its fur ruffled.” Too appealing by half. “Bad dream?”

  “Yes.” Another shuddering breath and she closed the gap between us, pressing her face into my chest. I froze. Her fisted hands rose up to rest against my shoulders. Was she fully awake? Perhaps she thought this was part of her dream, but God, she felt divine nestled into me.

  When she spoke, her voice was muffled. “I’m glad you’re here, Dante.”

  This was unexpected. And rather nice. After a moment’s hesitation, I slipped my arms around her and breathed in her scent. Intoxicating. My fingers played with the ends of her hair—soft and silky, it made a splash of color over the white pillow behind her. How would it feel draped over my skin? I raised my hand to the back of her head, tracing the bones of her spine, seeking out the fine hairs that nestled hidden from view. Her neck arched into my hand.

  “I need you, Dante.” A whisper.

  I smiled over her head, relishing the feel of her curves pressed against me.

  “Kitten,” I murmured, “I had no idea, baby.” I nuzzled her hair, pressing a series of tiny kisses over the shell of her ear, pleased when she lifted her face to meet my gaze. Her eyes were huge and dark, the hair mussed over her forehead. She looked rumpled and sleepy, and so very desirable. My cock had already risen to attention, throbbing against my jeans. After the shitty night at the tower, this was just what I needed. I wanted to take my time with her, kiss every inch of her skin, find out if it tasted as creamy as it looked. She licked her lips, and I was lost.

  Did I have any condoms left? My mind shot off on a tangent, and I almost missed her next words.

  “I need you to contact my mother.” Her mother? I wanted to shag Kitten, not ask permission to go on a date… “You’re the only medium I’ve found who might be able to do it. The only one I believe in.”

  Oh. Reality crashed into me like a bucket of icy water. My mouth struggled to form the words I needed. “Your mother’s dead. You don’t need me for, uh, something else?”

  “What?” Abruptly, she sat back and disentangled herself from me. “I appreciate the hug, but it doesn’t mean anything else is on offer. You didn’t think…”

  Yes. “Umm.” How could I get out of this without looking like a giant asshole? Hitting on her when she was half asleep. My cock twitched again, it obviously hadn’t got the newsflash yet. I sat on the edge of the bed and hung my head, scratching the back of my neck. Stupid fucker. Disappointment a tight ball in my chest. “Go on then, tell me about your mother.”

  Chapter

  ~3~

  3.1 Josh

  I taped the final carton shut, across the top and down the sides, then labeled it with a fat, black marker pen. STORAGE UNIT—china dinner service. Sitting on the floor, I surveyed the room. Every box and item of furniture bore a proud sticker advising its destination: to storage, to my London apartment or our new weekend cottage in Anglesey. Packing up Suki’s four-bedroom house had taken weeks, but it was finally done and ahead of schedule. The movers weren’t due for another two days. We were both keen to get out of there.

  Everything in this house screamed of her late husband. They’d lived here for over five years, until he’d tried to kill her. I’d saved her life, and the resulting accident led to his death. I still felt like pinching myself to wake up, it’d all happened so quickly.

  “Coffee, babe?” Suki dropped a tray on top of one of the boxes and sprawled on the rug beside me. “You’ve done brilliantly.” She beamed at my work. “Have I told you today how much I love you?”

  I pretended to think about it. “I’m not sure. You might have to refresh my memory.”

  A slow smile spread over her face. The dimples flashed briefly in her cheeks, while her warm brown eyes crinkled at the corners. “Okay. How about this?” She scrambled onto my lap and pushed me down to lie on the floor while her hands slipped inside my shirt. As her fingers crept up my abdomen, her hair tickled my face and I chuckled.

  “Nah, still can’t remember.”

  “Does this help?” Deft fingers unbuttoned my shirt. Warm lips pressed against each patch of skin she uncovered, and I shuddered with each kiss. Her mouth inched closer to my jeans. “I love you, Josh Delaney. And we are going to be married. Soon.”

  I was already hard for her, eager to feel her hands, her mouth, on me, but not here. I caught her head with my hands and stilled her movements. “Not now, Suki.” One last kiss against my zipper and my erection protested, but I was adamant. “Not in your house, baby.”

  She relented and gave me a hug instead, squeezing me tight as I held her impossibly close. I nuzzled her temple, kissing the little pulse. “I know it’s late, but why don’t we head up to Anglesey now? We can stay at Anita’s, then come back for the movers. It’s only a couple hour’s drive.”

  A warm sigh against my throat. “Apart from the fact that it’s almost midnight, we can’t. I’m due at Grayson’s party tomorrow night, and you promised you’d come with me. I can’t miss it.”

  Shit. I’d forgotten about that. “Tell me about him again?”

  “Grayson Fitzwarren. Former diplomat, famous for negotiating a peace settlement in Malawi. He’s now a member of parliament and in line for a knighthood, as well as a position in the Cabinet.” She recited his biography rapidly, pausing to draw a quick breath. “But most importantly, he’s the main sponsor of my new daytime show, giving us the opportunity to move to London and leave Manchester behind.”

  “He was also friends with your husband.”

  “Not friends, as such. Gabe wanted to go into politics after he retired from racing, so we used to see them socially. His wife doesn’t say much, but their daughter’s nice.” She paused, then seemed to pull herself together. “I don’t
want to hang around longer than I need to, and I doubt if you’ll know anybody there. So how about we just stay a few hours, schmooze a bit and then get the hell out. Okay?”

  It sounded too easy.

  3.2 Katherine

  I may not have been completely awake, but I still saw the hurt flashing across Dante’s eyes before he turned away. Snuggling into him had been delicious. Our bodies fit together perfectly, but I’d given him completely the wrong idea. I couldn’t let myself get blinded by his tenderness, no matter how good it felt. I sat back on the chair and tucked my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. Dante remained with his back to me. I’m not sure who was more embarrassed.

  There was so much I could’ve told him about Mum, but I stuck to the bare facts. “I was twelve. It was a car accident in Manchester, and she died at the scene. Her name was Antonia Fitzwarren, but she called herself Toni. She was only thirty-two.” I took a deep, calming breath. “I’ve tried for years to find a medium who could contact her. Tristan and the others don’t know. They assume my stepmum is my mother.” And my father prefers it that way.

  “Something we have in common.” His voice sounded distant. “I lost my mum when I was a kid.” With a sigh, he turned to face me. “I don’t tell people either. Thanks for looking out for me earlier, Kitten, but I can’t take your bed.”

  There were some conversations you could only have in the middle of the night, when it felt as though the whole world was asleep, and this was one of them. I hugged my pillow and spoke hesitantly into the shadows. “Don’t go. How old were you?”

  “Are you trying to be my shrink?”

  I shook my head. “That’s not my field.”

  His eyes held mine. He sat so close I itched to curl up beside him. No, Katherine. I tucked my free hand against my chest and waited.

  “I was a baby. I don’t even remember her.” He spoke slowly as though the words were dragged out of him.