Lukas

by Carian Cole

  When I pull away, her eyes open slowly and she blinks at me. “How do you do that?” she whispers breathlessly.

  “Do what?” I turn her in my arms so she’s facing me.

  “I don’t know . . . you make me feel like I’m in a dream. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

  I push her hair away from her face and tuck it behind her ear. “Think about how it will feel when I make love to you.”

  She puts her hands on my chest and stares at the black crucifix hanging around my neck.

  “I’m afraid to think about that.” Her voice is uncertain, her fingers shaking as she touches my necklace.

  “Why?” I stroke her hair, not forcing her to look at me but wanting to comfort her because I can see she’s having one of her inner struggles again.

  “I just . . . This is so hard.”

  I kiss the top of her head. “Ivy, you can tell me anything. I hope you’ve figured out that I’m a communicator. Don’t shut me out—that drives me crazy. Whatever’s on your mind, just spit it out and we’ll deal with it.”

  She takes a deep breath. “I’m just . . . worried. I’ve only been with one man, and you’re a lot more . . . experienced than he was. Or is. I can tell you are, just by the way you touch and kiss. And my body . . . I’ve had two kids . . .”

  I don’t tell her that my first lover was a twenty two year old fitness model, and I was just sixteen when we hooked up. Erika was my best friend Finn’s older sister, and I spent a lot of time at their house. Yeah, it was wrong on more levels than I can count, but I learned a lot about what women want, how to make them crazy, how to go slow when the time is right, and how to pound the shit out of them when they want it hard. Erika brought me out of my shell, gave me some much-needed self-confidence, and treated my body like her personal playground. There was no love there, but we liked each other and had a lot of fun. I have zero regrets.

  Putting my hands on the sides of her face, I gently lift her up so I can look into her eyes. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m already attracted to you like fucking crazy, and I’m not a shallow person. I’m interested in a lot more than looks, but just for the record, I think you’re beautiful and sexy and adorable. I’ve jerked off about a hundred times thinking about you.”

  “Lukas!” The look of utter shock on her face is priceless.

  “Hey, you need to know these things so you believe what I’m telling you.” I take her hand in mine and bring it between our bodies, pressing her palm against my rock hard cock. “Feel that? The cock doesn’t lie, baby. That’s all from you.”

  Her eyes go wide like silver dollars. “Holy shit . . .” she says under her breath, pulling her hand away, all flustered.

  “I want you to touch me, but only when you’re ready. I might push you a little, but that’s only because I want you. Anything that happens between us will be at your pace, okay?” She nods and swallows. “You say stop, I’ll stop. Always. And you should know, I’m a little bit sick with wanting someone that hasn’t had a ton of experience, but I also don’t want to date a kid or someone immature. So . . . You. Are. Perfect.”

  She shakes her head at me and grins. “You’re too good to be real. There’s gotta be something wrong with you . . .”

  “Trust me. There is a lot wrong with me, Ivy. I have a jealous streak. I’ve battled depression for most of my life. I lived in a dumpster for three months. I believe in things most people don’t. I’m an outcast. I don’t love much, but when I do, I love hard and fierce.”

  She hangs on every word, her grip tightening around my arms.

  “I want to know what fierce feels like,” she whispers, her eyes looking up at me innocently through her long dark lashes.

  I pull her body closer to mine, holding her tight against me so she can feel me again. “I have a feeling you will, doll.”

  She goes up on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek. “I want one more thing on my tattoo,” she says, moving out from under my arm and heading back for the chair.

  Frowning, I follow her. “Okay, tell me.”

  “I want a little x and an o, to remind me of you, because you give the best hugs and kisses.”

  I wasn’t expecting her to say that. I was thinking she was going to want another butterfly, or maybe another little flower, but I never imagined she’d want something that was special for us. “Are you sure?” I ask her.

  She nods enthusiastically. “Definitely. I’ll let you pick the where.”

  “I’m really honored by this, ya know,” I grab my gun and find a nice place on her leg where I can add the two letters without detracting from the design. “There,” I announce when I’m finished. “Now, my hugs and kisses are on your body for the rest of your life,” I tease.

  “That’s what I wanted.”

  I get up and put my tools away, afraid if I don’t put some distance between us that I’m going to ravish her right here. “You better be careful what you wish for,” I say, glancing over my shoulder at her. “You just might get it.”

  After sharing a sizzling kiss good-bye with Ivy in the parking lot again, my blood is racing through my veins. I know I won’t be able to sleep, so I take out my violin and play a few of the new songs I’ve been working on. The resonation of the strings calms me, always has. Even though I bought a brand new violin a few years ago with a little bit of my inheritance, I still play my first violin—the one I found in my great-grandparents’ attic when I was seven years old and taught myself to play. It’s ancient, and I have no idea who it originally belonged to, but it’s one of the best—a Strad. Two years ago, I shipped it to London to have a renowned violin maker repair it for me, who begged me to sell it to him and offered me an insane amount of money. I refused. This violin is too much a part of me to let go, no matter how much it’s worth. I don’t need money, but I do need the things that calm me and bring me peace.

  And now, Ivy excites me but also brings me a new sense of peace I’ve never felt before, not even from my music or art. Fighting the urge to carry her up here to my apartment all night was exhausting but worth it. Tomorrow night, she’ll be here, and I can’t wait to see her in my personal space, surrounded by the things I love.

  Later, after I put my violin back in its case, I send Ivy a text.

  Me: Is it tomorrow yet?

  By the time she replies eight minutes later, I’m already in my bed.

  Ivy: Technically, yes, it’s after midnight yesterday, so it’s today, which is tomorrow.

  Me: Holy fuck, that hurt my brain.

  Ivy: LOL

  Me: What are you doing?

  Ivy: I’m in bed.

  Me: Me too. Were you thinking about me?

  Ivy: What do you think?

  Me: I think yes. ;)

  Ivy: Then I guess I was :)

  Me: Don’t stop.

  Ivy: How could I? You’re irresistible, remember?

  Me: Did I tell you how beautiful you looked today?

  Ivy: Yes, thank you. You make me feel all shivery.

  Me: Good shivery or bad shivery?

  Ivy: Definitely good :)

  Me: Then get ready for more. I have a lot more shivers to give you. ;)~

  IVY

  LUKAS WANTED TO PICK ME UP and bring me to his place for dinner, but that felt silly to me, so I insisted on driving to his place. I think his chivalry is sweet, but I feel better having my own car in case I want to leave for whatever reason. Lindsay yelled at me when I told her earlier, telling me I was being difficult and that I should be grateful he has manners. She then ended the call reminding me to get on top of him.

  I fall a little bit in love with him when I see what he’s wearing as he lets me in his door. He’s got on a black button-down shirt that’s unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, faded jeans, and black and white converse sneakers. He pulls off casual and sexy so effortlessly, and the sneakers tug at a little piece of the high school girl that still lives inside me.

  “You look pretty,” he says, pulling me inside and shut
ting the door behind me. Taking my hand, he leads me to the living room. “Make yourself comfy. I’m just gonna go check dinner.”

  “Okay.” Taking off my coat and laying it over the arm of the couch, I look around his house, which is beautiful and exotic, just as I imagined it would be.

  The old stone church he lives in has been turned into a two story house, with the tattoo parlor taking up about half of the first floor, and the other half being this huge living room, kitchen, dining area, and bathroom. The tattoo parlor is completely separate, with its own entrance at the front of the house. A beautiful stairway leads upstairs to where I assume the bedrooms are. Part of the second floor is open with a wooden railing to a loft area, giving the house a very open feel.

  “Do you need any help?” I call out toward the kitchen.

  “No!” he hollers back

  I continue to gaze around his house. Stained wooden beams run across the ceiling and walls. The floors are dark hardwood with colored rugs beneath a large, black leather, sectional couch and mahogany coffee table. Two purple velvet accent chairs sit off to the side, turned toward a huge flat screen television mounted on the wall. The tall stained glass windows are beautiful and timeless, and give off a warm, colorful glow to the room. Wide archways with stone accents divide the rooms. It’s just breathtaking and so rich looking, the kind of house you would see in a fantasy movie.

  I slowly walk around the living room, admiring the artwork on the walls and the statues and trinkets perfectly displayed, lightly running my fingertips over the beautiful antique accent furniture, remembering how he told me he also liked to feel the depth of these treasures, and I want to feel what he feels.

  “Hello.”

  I jump about a mile, and then lean forward, not quite believing what I’m seeing . . . and hearing. In front of me is a huge black metal birdcage sitting atop a marble stand, and inside is a raven. A real raven. I step closer to the magnificent bird, who’s also eyeing me with his amber eyes.

  “Well, hello there,” I say, captivated. The bird is beautiful, as black as night, tilting his head at me.

  “Don’t talk to him!” Lukas shouts from the kitchen.

  “I’m a pretty bird,” the bird says.

  Oh, wow! He’s incredible. “Hi, pretty bird,” I say softly.

  The bird cocks his head at me. “Don’t talk to him,” he says, mimicking Lukas. Exactly. Somehow, the bird has impersonated Lukas’ raspy voice perfectly, which is creepy and cool and pretty wild.

  “I see you met Ray.” Lukas crosses the room and stands next to me. “You have to be careful around him. He repeats everything.”

  I turn to him in awe. “Lukas, he’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

  “He’s amazing,” the bird says, impersonating my own voice almost exactly now.

  “Oh my God!” I exclaim. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  Lukas runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah, he’s cool, but he’s a fucking pain in the ass. When he gets in a mood, he talks non-stop and repeats everything I say. It’s only cool sometimes. Trust me.”

  I stare at the bird, waiting for him to say something, and I think he’s doing the same to me. He raises his little wings a bit and skitters across his perch to come closer to me.

  “I love him! I had no idea they could talk. Is he a raven?” I poke my finger through the cage bars and gently stroke his wing.

  “He is. I found him when he was a baby, years ago. He had a broken wing, so I brought him home to take care of him, and when he started repeating everything I said, I couldn’t let him go. I got attached to him. He’s kind of a runt, I think. He hasn’t grown much at all. And, yeah, some can learn to talk, and as you can see, they have an uncanny ability to mimic voices and sounds. For a while there, he could mimic my ring tone.”

  “Amazing,” Ray squawks, clearly excited.

  Lukas grabs my hand and pulls me away from the bird. “Okay, that’s enough of him. If we give him too much attention, he won’t shut up. I’d like to be able to talk to you without him babbling in the background.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “He’s hard to ignore. Your house is gorgeous. I can’t stop looking at everything. It’s such a unique place.” I smile at him. “Just like you.”

  He grins. “I hope that’s a compliment?”

  “It is, and something smells great. What are you making?”

  He leans down and whispers into my ear. “Chicken a la king.”

  “Why are you whispering,” I whisper back.

  “We don’t want the bird to know we’re eating one of his kind.”

  “Lukas!” I cover my mouth and try to suppress my laugh. “That’s not funny.”

  “I know. That’s why I whispered. Let’s go eat. It’s ready.”

  I follow him to the kitchen, which is a classy mix of modern appliances with an antique table and chairs, granite counter tops, stone backsplash, and more gothic wall decor.

  He pulls out a chair and motions for me to sit. “Can I help with anything?” I ask him, feeling spoiled. I’ve never had a man cook for me before, and I have to admit, it’s definitely a nice feeling.

  “Nope, I’ve got it all under control.”

  I watch him move around the kitchen, setting bowls and plates of food on the table in front of me.

  “White wine?” he asks, holding a bottle up.

  “Ooh, sounds great.”

  He takes his seat and pours two glasses of wine. Everything he’s prepared looks and smells delicious. All his serving dishes are black with a marble pattern—very different from the cream-colored set I have at home. He’s made a big tossed spring mix salad that we each fill our own salad bowls from, and the chicken a la king is arranged on my plate with a side garnish of orange peel slices in the shape of a flower. I feel like I’m sitting in a five star restaurant and not some young goth guy’s kitchen.

  “I’m very impressed,” I say, smiling across the table at him. “You did all of this?”

  “I sure did. I love to cook.”

  “It shows. It looks too pretty to eat.”

  “Don’t be shy. Dig in. I have extra forks, and I can make you lots more pretty food.”

  I shake my head and smile as I cut up my food, loving how he teases me. “This house is so big. Do you get lonely here?” I ask him before taking a bite of the chicken. “Mm . . . this is delicious!” I exclaim, and it really is yummy perfection. Is there anything he can’t do?

  “I have the bird to keep me company,” he says simply, and I can tell that he means it sincerely, like having just the bird is totally okay, nothing and no one else needed. I’m not sure if that’s sad or admirable.

  “Can I ask you something personal?” I want to get to know him, but I hate feeling like I’m prying into his life and possibly digging up bad memories for him.

  He tips his glass at me before raising it to his lips. “That’s why we’re here, baby doll, to get to know each other better. Ask away.”

  “Have you ever been in a long term relationship?”

  He nods and swallows. “Yup. I was with a girl for almost three years, seventeen to twenty. We had a pretty great thing going, but unfortunately, money changes people.”

  “Your inheritance? Did getting all that money so young change you?”

  He shakes his hair out of his eyes and smirks a little. “No, me getting all that money changed her.”

  “Oh,” I say. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Hey, better I found out before it went any further and she spent every dime, right?”

  “True, but it’s still a shame.”

  “It is, because I really loved her, and I thought she loved me. I guess she did, at least for a while.” He props his elbow on the table and rubs the side of his face. “As soon as I got the money, she changed. She went from being a fun, sweet girl to a demanding bitch. And ya know what? I would have given her anything, but the way she treated me? No fucking way. She just assumed, and expected, that she had
free reign to my money and could spend it on whatever she wanted, and demand all sorts of crazy shit from me, like she was entitled to it.”

  “That’s terrible. My faith in people just dwindles the more I hear stories like that. Doesn’t anyone value love and commitment anymore? Or is everyone just about getting something better for themselves?”

  “Um, yeah, that’s pretty much how it seems to be, doesn’t it?”

  “It does. Are you still in love with her?” I blurt the last part out before I can change my mind about asking. As much as I’m afraid to hear the answer, I need to hear it, because I’m slowly falling for him and I don’t think I can compete with the memory of a girl he might still be in love with. I can’t take another hit to my heart just when I’m finally starting to feel a little bit of happiness again.

  He leans back in his chair and looks up at the ceiling. “I’ll always care about her and miss what we had, but no, I’m not in love with her anymore.” Sitting forward again, he studies me silently. “And how about you? Are you still in love with him?”

  I’ve reached a point where I can answer that question with certainty. “No, not anymore. Like you, of course, I’ll always care about him, but he’s just hurt me too much and destroyed too much. He’s not the man I fell in love with.” Lukas listens intently, chewing slowly, relief evident in his eyes at my admission. “I guess my parents were right,” I continue. “They told me years ago, when I got pregnant and married, that we were way too young to make such a big commitment, that people change too much, especially in their twenties, and don’t really know what they want in life yet. And looking back on that, I think that’s true in a lot of ways, although I hate to admit it to my parents.”

  He runs his finger over the rim of his wine glass, his eyes following the circle he’s making on the crystal edge. “Do you feel that way about me?” he finally asks, shifting his eyes up to meet mine. “Do you think, because I’m in my twenties, that I don’t know what I want? That in a few years I’ll be different?” He tilts his head a little. “That I might grow away from you?”