Marcun

by Sadie Carter

  They shared. He must remember that.

  He growled at the thought of sharing her. With anyone.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  He opened his eyes, watching in horror as tears dripped down her face. “Why are you angry at me? Don’t be mad.”

  “I am not mad at you.” His voice still sounded too harsh and he grimaced, clearing his throat.

  “Then why did you try to attack me?”

  “I did not.”

  “You have a bat.”

  A bat?

  She nodded over at the wooden stick. Oh. He held it up. “This is yours. When you opened your door, you had it raised above your head as you ran forward. I moved out of the way and you banged into the wall. I took this from you.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “Oh, I remember, I thought you were him.” She looked around, eyes wide. “Is he here?”

  “Who?”

  “The male who attacked me.”

  He sighed. “Why do you still worry about him? I told you that I warned him off. He will not harm you.”

  “What about you?” Those eyes looked up at him, filled with concern. She was worried for him? “What if he hurts you?”

  “I would like him to try. Female, what is wrong with you?”

  She sniffled. “Why don’t you ever call me by my name? Is it because you don’t like me?”

  “Will you stop crying if I say your name?”

  “I don’t know,” she half-wailed. “Maybe?”

  The door next to where they sat opened and a skinny male stuck his head out. His eyes widened as he took in Eden.

  “Hey, Eden, I heard a noise, thought it might be a lost customer. You’re…um…you’re looking real good.”

  “Thanks. Hey, Eddie. Meet Marcun. Marcun, Eddie.”

  Eddie’s eyes widened as he looked straight at him. He visibly swallowed. “Hey.” His voice went up half an octave.

  Marcun glared at him. Then he reached down and scooped Eden into his arms.

  “Eek!” She squealed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Whee, I’m up high!”

  “What you been taking, sweetheart?” the other male asked. “Whatever it is, I’m upset you didn’t come to me to get it.”

  What did the other male speak of?

  “No drugs. Just some wine from Carl’s.”

  The other male winced and straightened. “You went to Carl’s for booze? Jesus, are you mad? That stuff will make you go blind.”

  “What?” Marcun asked, his alarm growing. “What stuff?”

  “The wine Carl sells,” the male said, looking concerned. “It’s shit. People have ended up in comas drinking that stuff. If she means something to you, I wouldn’t let her drink any more. Get her to a doctor if she loses her sight or consciousness or has a fit.”

  What?

  With a nod at the other male in thanks, he carried Eden into her apartment, kicking the door shut behind him. He set her down on her small sofa.

  “What have you been drinking, Eden?”

  She smiled up at him. “Aw, you said my name. You do care about me.” She made her hand into a fist and attempted to punch his arm. At least that’s what he thought she was trying to do. She missed by several inches. “You big lug.”

  He had no idea what a lug was, but her slurred speech and lack of co-ordination was starting to alarm him.

  “Eden, what did you drink?” He made his voice firm.

  Tears filled her eyes again. What was wrong with her? “You’re mad again.”

  “I am not mad.”

  “You sound mad.”

  “I am irritated.” And fast losing what little patience he possessed.

  She sniffled. “Well, that’s close to mad. This has been such a screwed-up day. First, I’m the victim of an attempted robbery, then I get threatened, then I have to take you shopping and the thanks I get is you checking some other woman’s ass out. And then he-who-shall-not-be-named turns up and says he’s going to take my bakery.”

  He just stared at her for a long moment. He opened his mouth then closed it again. Where did he start with that list?

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Jones,” she whispered. “But we shouldn’t say his name, it could make him appear. Evil little bastard.”

  “Saying someone’s name can make them appear?” How could that work?

  She shrugged. “I’m not taking the chance. If I ever see that slime ball asshole again it will be too soon. He drove me to drink.”

  He spotted a bottle on the floor next to the bed and, walking over, picked it up and sniffed at it. Some sort of alcohol mixed with something else he couldn’t decipher.

  “Oh, you found my wine. Gimme.” She reached out her hand. Her breasts jiggled under her white top as she bounced up and down on the sofa. He watched, his mouth going dry, his heart speeding up.

  She reached for the wine again and his brain took over again. He drew the bottle back.

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, no? I need it. It’s mine.”

  “The other male said it can make you blind or lose consciousness.” What if he hadn’t come over here to check up on her? She could have slipped into a coma. Now his heart raced for an entirely different reason. Panic.

  She snorted. “Like Eddie can talk. Some of the stuff he sells is dodgy. I’ve known him to cut cocaine with icing sugar. I want my wine, Marcun.”

  Instead of replying, he turned away and moved over to the small cooking area. He turned the bottle upside down over the drainage hole.

  “No!” she screeched and jumped on him, pulling at his arm. “No, what are you doing? I need that!

  “It can make you ill.”

  “I don’t care! It doesn’t matter!”

  He placed the empty bottle on the counter.

  She put her hands on her hips, pulling her white top down so he could see the tops of her breasts.

  Look away. Look away.

  If she had been in her right mind, he knew she wouldn’t be standing in front of him dressed in so little. It was torture, looking but knowing he couldn’t touch.

  “What are you staring at? Did I spill something on myself?” She looked down at herself then gasped. “I’m not dressed.” She looked up and hit the palm of her hand against his chest. “Don’t…um…look…wow you have lots of muscle. Your chest is so strong. I wonder what it tastes like.” She licked her lips.

  “Eden? Eden?”

  “I like when you say my name.”

  He liked it too.

  Tears filled her eyes. Not more crying. How could she have any tears left?

  “You threw away my wine.”

  “It is poison.”

  “That’s the whole point. I wanted to forget this whole, horrible day.” She wandered over to the bed and sat. He watched her from across the room. He thought it best to keep some distance as his resistance to her seemed to be waning.

  She patted the bed next to her. “Sit. You make me feel like a naughty kid being told off by her daddy.”

  “I am not your father.”

  She glanced up at him. “No. Nope, you definitely aren’t. Why are you here?”

  “I came to ask you why you were upset with me today.”

  She frowned. “I was upset with you?”

  “I thought so.”

  She tapped her finger against her chin. Then she glared up at him. “You were checking out her ass.”

  “What?”

  “You were with me and you were checking out someone else’s ass. I mean, I get it. You’re not interested in me sexually, why would you be? You’re freakin’ gorgeous and I’m a fat, boring, bad-in-bed almost-divorcee. You can have any woman you want and you do, every night. Is that the same woman each night or different ones?”

  “What women?”

  “The women in your bed each night. I can hear you through the walls. Remember I asked you to keep it down? I’m grumpy about that by the way. You like sex, I get it. But do you have to be so loud when you’re doing it? Or
couldn’t you finish up before ten or something? Some of us mortal creatures have to sleep.”

  “I am not immortal.” Long-lived. Hard to kill. But not immortal.

  She rolled her eyes then winced again. “Hm probably shouldn’t do that. Ouch, my head is starting to thump. You took away my magic juice.”

  “I thought it was alcohol.”

  “Same diff.”

  “Will you stop talking in riddles, female?”

  “Ooh, we’re back to female. How come you’re so grouchy? I’m the one who is mad at you.”

  “Because you can hear me through the walls?” He wasn’t certain if that was the problem or not. It was hard to keep up with her.

  She waved her hands in agitation. “Well, yeah, like I told you, I can hear you having sex.”

  He did not recall her ever telling him that.

  “I am not having sex.”

  She was silent for so long he thought she might have fallen asleep sitting up. “Eden?”

  “But I heard you. It goes on all night. Every night. The banging, the groaning, what the hell are you doing in there?”

  What did she mean? All he did at night was stretch his wings … is that what she was talking about?

  “I am not having sex. You believed I was having sex every night?”

  “All night,” she said solemnly. “It made it very hard to sleep.”

  “So is this why you thought I was selling myself?” Now things made some sense.

  “Um, yeah. Oh my God, I am so embarrassed. I thought you were some sort of sex maniac. Shit. Shit. What an idiot.”

  He crouched, placing his hands on her thighs. “Eden, what did you mean you are going to lose the bakery?” That bakery meant everything to her.

  “My life is a mess,” she confessed, looking up at him, her face filled with despair. “When Barry left, he took all our money, wiped out all our accounts. All I had was the bakery. It’s my life. And now he wants to take it away.”

  “Who, Barry?” Had she heard from him?

  “No, Mr. Jones. Barry was doing some creative tax returns. Turns out I owe the IRS a lot of money. And they want it. Now. Only I don’t have it. The only thing I have is the bakery. I’m going to be forced to sell up in order to pay what I owe.”

  “He is extorting money from you?” He should never have left her alone with him.

  “Extorting no? What he’s doing isn’t illegal. It’s just asshole-gal. Okay, that sounded better in my head. I thought he would give me more time. That meeting with him was the end to a very bad day and it just all became too much, you know? So I bought the wine to help me forget and so I could get some sleep. I haven’t been sleeping much lately.” She frowned at him. “What are you doing to make that much noise?”

  “Are you still upset with me?” he asked, ignoring her question. He did not have a good lie to tell her. And he could not tell her the truth. For some reason that was starting to not feel right to him.

  “Huh? What? Oh, yeah, the butt thing. I guess I don’t have much right to be upset. Not like we’re dating or anything. But you never check my ass out. At least I don’t think you do. I get it, I’m not pretty or thin and I’m your boss. But you didn’t have to check another chick out while I was standing right there.”

  “I have no idea what you are speaking of.”

  “The woman in the line in front of us at Walmart. With the tattoo. You were totally staring at her ass.”

  “I was,” he agreed. And that was a problem?

  “See?” She pointed at him, as though that explained everything.

  “I was not supposed to look at her?”

  “No. Yes. Well, you can do what you like, can’t you? Not like you’re married or anything. I just think it’s rude to stare at her butt while I am standing right there next to you, that’s all.”

  “I was not staring at her buttocks.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  Well, he supposed he had been. But he did not understand why that offended her so much. “I have not seen those markings before. I merely wished to understand what they meant.”

  She frowned. “Right. You wanted to look at her tattoos. Not the rest of her assets.”

  “Assets?”

  “Her butt and boobs. They were out there, on display, just inviting you to look. I suppose I shouldn’t be upset. How could you help but look? No, actually, you could have looked away.”

  A thought occurred to him. But that couldn’t be right. Surely she was not jealous.

  “I did not stare at her body. Just the markings.”

  She stared at him suspiciously. “Why?”

  “Because I wished to know what they meant. I thought they might be a mark of ownership.”

  “Ownership? Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Yeah, I’ve heard of some pimps tattooing their prostitutes in other countries, like they own them. That’s horrible. Does that happen where you come from?”

  “Placing markings on those you own happens in some races. Not mine, though. We do not own others.”

  “That’s good to know. They were just tatts. I know she thought they meant something, but it is likely bullshit. You were really just looking at them?”

  “Yes.” He tilted his head to one side. “But why did you care?”

  She shrugged. “Just don’t like bad manners. I need something else to drink. I’m starting to sober up.”

  “No more alcohol.”

  “I won’t buy it from Carl’s,” she told him. “Although, he is the closest. I’ll go to the market.”

  “No.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “You know you’re not the boss of me, right?”

  He had no right to stop her doing what she wished. But she was not making the best decisions right now. For her health or safety. And for some reason, he had a burning need to protect her.

  “I need a drink.”

  He moved to the small cooking area, as much to get away from her as to get her something to drink. He opened all the cupboards and grabbed a glass. It had taken him a while to figure out that the plumbing was not voice command operated but manual. So primitive. He turned the tap and rusty water spurted out.

  Turning it off, he spun and walked back to her, glass of water in hand. She watched him with a dawning look of horror on her face. “Oh my God, you haven’t been drinking water from the tap, have you?”

  She grabbed the water and strode to the sink, tipping it down the hole. What was she doing?

  “Jesus, are you feeling all right? Fever? Diarrhea? Vomiting?” She moved close to him, reaching up on tiptoes to put her hand over his forehead. “You seem okay. Please tell me you’ve been using purifying tablets before you drink the water. The water is extremely polluted. Most places have filters built in, but this building is so old that they’d need to re-do all the plumbing. We don’t even have automatic water, like most other places.”

  “I have not drunk the water,” he told her. He did not need water to live.

  “Good. That’s good.” She patted his chest gently. “Marcun?”

  “Yes?” he asked, his voice tight with arousal. Her scent drifted up to him. That sweet scent that was all her was mixed with the sicklier scent of the alcohol she had been drinking.

  “Will you sleep with me?”

  His breath caught and he glanced over at the bed. “To keep watch while you sleep and ensure you do not slip into a coma?” That would take a lot of control, to lie next to her and not touch her.

  “Nope. To fuck me all night long. I’m horny as hell. I haven’t had sex in nearly two years. Barry and I stopped having sex well before he left and it was never that good to begin with. I thought it was me. He said I was cold, that I couldn’t feel anything. He was right, I never did feel much when he touched me. Well, other than a wish for it to be over quickly. Never been that great with anyone else, either. Not that there have been many. Not like you. I can’t believe I’m telling you all of this. Are you sure you weren’t having sex?”

  “I was no
t.” His voice was a hoarse croak.

  “Huh. But you do know what you’re doing, right?”

  He felt that he had just been insulted. “I do. But this is not a good idea.”

  Her face closed down and she took a step away from him, letting her hand drop. He immediately felt the loss.

  “Of course not. Because I never have good ideas, do I? What was I thinking? Oh God.” She sat on the sofa and put her hands over her face.

  “Eden—”

  “Please, just leave. In the morning, I am going to wake up and be horribly embarrassed by this. I may never leave this apartment again. I can certainly never see you again. Oh God, you work for me. But then the bakery isn’t going to last much longer. The IRS will shut it down, I’ll probably have to move back in with my mother, then I’ll marry the first poor unsuspecting guy she throws my way to get her off my back. In a year’s time, I’ll be married, pregnant, and living in the suburbs. What a freaking nightmare!”

  Her shoulders shook.

  “Eden.” he repeated but this time in a much firmer voice.

  She looked up at him, laughing. “And I thought you’d want to sleep with me? Am I losing my mind? There is no way you’d want me. But you took away my magic juice and I just want to keep forgetting for a while, you know? Even if the sex was utterly horrid, at least it would be a distraction from the complete disaster that my life is.”

  She lay back with a groan, putting her arm over her eyes. “Please, go. Really, I’m not going to slip into some coma or start foaming at the mouth. I barely drank any of that shit. I’m a lightweight. In terms of my alcohol tolerance, not this. Obviously.” She gestured at her body. Then she moved her arm and stared down at herself. “Oh God, I answered the door in my underwear. No wonder you turned me down so quick. It’s like a breeding ground for cellulite down there.”

  “A breeding ground for what?” He stared at her in alarm. What was cellulite? Some sort of disease or bug?

  “You’re a ten and I’m barely a two.”

  “I am a ten?”

  “On a sex scale, you’re a ten. That’s the top. I’m a two, down the bottom. Maybe a three if I put some make-up on and dress. Maybe some Suckme underwear.”

  “Suckme?”

  Well, since he asked…Eden! What was wrong with her? Where did that dirty thought come from?