Impassion (Mystic)

by B. C. Burgess

  “Nothing,” she answered, offering what she hoped was a casual smile.

  He reached out, covering her lips with his thumb. “That’s a lie.”

  Busted. “I guess.”

  “Come here,” he insisted, pulling her closer. “These lips are too beautiful to lie, so out with it. Why did you back away?”

  She pouted as she watched him, ashamed of her bold faced lie, but she couldn’t help but feel a little justified. “Can’t a girl have her secrets?”

  “Yes, until they start pulling you away from me. If there’s a reason why you don’t want me to hold you, just say it. I’ll respect your wishes and do my best to understand. But don’t leave me wondering what went wrong.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just not used to sharing my feelings with people. It’s embarrassing.”

  “I can tell. But what do you think I’m going to do? Laugh at you?”

  “No.”

  “Then tuck that pretty pout in and tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I don’t want to lead you on,” she blurted, like a dam bursting. Her cheeks flamed, but she forced herself to continue. “I’m not ready to follow through with anything, so I gave you some space… to be fair.”

  “I see,” he replied, a smile tugging on his lips.

  “Are you trying not to laugh?” she scolded.

  “No,” he assured, “but I think it’s sweet you’re worried about me.”

  “It’s not all about you. I don’t want you to be frustrated with me.”

  Without any warning, he scooped her legs out from under her, softly catching her back in his other arm.

  “Wha…” she muttered, finding his face.

  But he ignored her scowl and carried her to the couch, making her comfortable on his lap as he urged her cheek to his chest. “I won’t lie and say I don’t want it, but that’s not why I’m here. I know you’re not ready, and that’s okay. I feel blessed to be on the receiving end of your kisses and wouldn’t dare push my luck by asking for more.”

  Layla furrowed her eyebrows as she searched his aura. “Really?”

  “Really,” he returned. “I’m not in a hurry, so I won’t get upset with you for making me wait. But if you make me stop touching you, I’ll be very sad.”

  “Oh,” she breathed. “Okay.”

  “What’s okay?” he pressed, sliding his palms down her sides. “This?”

  Layla closed her eyes, sighing her agreement as his hands slid under her shirt. He flexed his fingers, inciting goose bumps and a shiver. Then he took her by the ribs and squeezed.

  A laugh burst from her diaphragm as she jolted and twisted away, reaching for the safety of the floor, but he pulled her back in.

  “No you don’t,” he refused, somehow finding every ticklish spot on her body.

  “Quin!”

  “What?”

  She struggled to breathe as she pushed on his chest. “Stop.”

  “Or what?” he challenged, sliding a hand to her thigh.

  She yanked in air as she stretched for his neck, and in her desperation, she sucked harder than she’d intended. His game ceased, and she softened, puckering around his strong pulse.

  “Mmm…” he murmured. “You could calm a battlefield with those lips.”

  She slid her fingers into his hair as she pressed closer, kissing again and again; and it made her heady, as if he’d bathed in wine. He swept her hair aside, exposing the sensitive dip between her shoulder blades, and as his hand spanned bare skin, she quivered with an internal throb she’d never felt before. Her heart stuttered then sped, and warmth surged her veins, intensely flaring in some areas while soothing others.

  The hand on her thigh flexed around fluctuating muscles then slid to the tender spot below her hip, leaving a charged trail in its wake. She twitched as he gathered her skirt in his fist, his sigh floating through curls to stimulate her scalp. Then he unfurled his fist and extended his fingers, grasping her pelvic bone and butt in one firm handful.

  Searing heat rolled over her, curling her in before stretching her out, and her muscles stiffened as her cheeks flamed. She knew she must look like an idiot—eyes shut, head tilted back, chest heaving—but she was too rigid with arousal to do anything about it.

  He released her hip, taking her jaw instead, and she pulled in a shaky breath, steeling herself to look at him. But before she could open her eyes, he tilted her head further back and lowered his mouth to her throat. His lips swept over tingling flesh, finding her pulse. Then his tongue slipped out, lingering through several beats.

  Another flood of desire engulfed her, and she curled her fingers in his hair as her body craved more. Delicate spots had never yearned more than they did then. They absolutely needed to be touched. They screamed for it… for him. Just by kissing her neck, he’d scrambled her common sense and erased all logic, inseminating her with a longing to be anything he wanted her to be.

  In a brief moment of clarity, Layla wondered if that was his goal—if he was trying to get her so worked up she’d let him take her to bed. Then she forgot to care as his mouth slid to her collarbone. She arched, and her starving hips tilted, pressing into him on their own accord.

  His kisses suddenly stopped, and his hand clutched her hip, firmly pushing her away. “That,” he whispered, steaming up her throat, “I can’t handle. I’m sorry.”

  Layla shuddered, suspended between pleasure and pain and afraid to speak for fear she might actually tell him to take her to bed.

  “We can kiss all night,” he added, “but if you want me to behave, I’m off limits from the waist down.”

  Layla still couldn’t talk, not even after forcing herself to swallow. Her body wasn’t ready for it to be over, and she thought her hips might betray her if he gave them half a chance.

  A long moment of silence passed. Then his lips left her neck, deflating her lungs and loosening her muscles.

  “Layla?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you upset?”

  “Are you kidding?” she laughed, opening her eyes. The urgency had ebbed, leaving her rejuvenated. “That was amazing, Quin. I’ve never felt that way before.”

  “That’s a shame,” he noted, sliding his gaze down her body, “because you handled it beautifully.”

  Her cheeks grew hot as she shyly bit her lip. “We should do it again sometime.”

  “You trust me to hit the brakes?” he asked, finding her eyes.

  Layla wasn’t sure what she was getting herself into, but she knew she liked it. “We’ll see,” she said, getting to her feet.

  He quickly stood and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Hey.”

  “Hey back.”

  “Want something special?”

  “I already have too much,” she refused.

  “You’ll like it,” he urged. “I promise.”

  “You’ve done enough, Quin.”

  “Come on,” he softly coaxed, spreading tingles down her neck.

  “Fine,” she conceded, smiling at his effective manipulation. “You win.”

  He kissed her cheek. Then he released her waist and slid one arm around her chest. “Close your eyes.”

  She leaned into him as she obeyed, and several seconds ticked by before the smell of strong coffee drifted up her nose.

  “You’re too much,” she whispered, opening her eyes to a steaming mug.

  “Cinnia made it.”

  Layla took the brew and sipped. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Maybe you won’t be so stubborn the next time I offer you a gift.”

  “I’ll never get used to the way you treat me, Quin.”

  “I treat you t
he way you should be treated,” he countered, laying a hand over her heart. “You’re beautiful, Layla, inside and out, and I want to know more. Only a moron would blow the opportunity to explore a woman like you.”

  Layla brought her hand over his, her heart melting as her eyes moistened. “I can’t imagine you blowing your chances with anything, let alone a woman.”

  He kissed the top of her head, but didn’t respond, so she took another sip of coffee, intent on finishing the entire cup while standing in his arms. But after a jolt of caffeine, her old life poked at her brain.

  “My car,” she remembered. “It’s parked in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Not anymore. It’s here.”

  “In the community?”

  “Yes, in the garage.”

  “You guys have a garage?”

  “We do now.”

  She faced him and tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

  “The coven built a garage this morning, so you’d have a safe place for your car. Oh, and don’t be surprised if Banning solicits driving lessons the next time he sees you.”

  “But where? I mean how?” She shook her head, trying to put things in order. “Where did they put the garage?”

  “By the barn.”

  “You guys have a barn?”

  Quin smiled and led her to the couch, sitting her beside him instead of on his lap. “Yes, we have a barn. Our property expands several miles beyond this lawn, and there are two more clearings. One holds our outbuildings.”

  “Oh. Do you have animals?”

  “Dozens of them. Do you like animals?”

  “Who doesn’t? So how did my car get here? I thought there was no way to drive in.”

  “Your grandparents transferred it using magic.”

  “Oh,” she mumbled, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that an entire car was magicked into the forest.

  “They’ll send it back if you need to drive somewhere,” he offered.

  “That’s fine,” she agreed, tapping her lip. She was forgetting something, something more important than a car. “Oh,” she remembered, jolting upright. “What time is it?”

  “Nine.”

  “That would make it eleven in Oklahoma. I should have called Travis and Phyllis back earlier. They’re probably worried about me.”

  “I’m glad you have friends who worry about you.”

  “I don’t know what to say to them, Quin. I can’t tell the truth, but I don’t want to lie.”

  “Hmm...” He set her coffee aside then pulled her under his arm. “You’re right about not telling them the whole truth, but I see no harm in telling them part of it, enough to avoid suspicion until we can work out a better cover story. You could tell them Cinnia’s your aunt, so you’ve found your family, but you’re still figuring things out. And you might mention you’ve left the hotel in Portland.”

  “Right. I still need to check out of there.”

  “Yes you do. This is the third night you haven’t been there, but you should call your friends first.”

  “I know. I’m nervous.”

  “Hiding what we are from the hexless can be complicated, but the more you do it, the easier it gets, and I’m sure you’ll handle it better than most.”

  “You’re awful confident in me.”

  He summoned her cell phone from a side table and placed it in her hand. “Do you want some privacy?”

  “No. I mean… unless you have something you need to do.”

  He relaxed and picked up a curl, wrapping it around his fingers. “I’d consider this something I need to do.”

  She smiled as she cuddled into his side. Then she dialed the diner, hoping to ensure vague conversations by catching Travis and Phyllis at work, but no one picked up.

  “That’s weird,” she mumbled, ending the call. “No one answered.”

  “Then they’re probably not home,” he teased, sweeping her hair across his lips.

  “Funny,” she returned, “but I called the diner.”

  “They don’t close?”

  “No. What is today? Sunday?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then they shouldn’t be busy. I’ll try Phyllis’ house. I hope I don’t wake her.”

  “I doubt she’ll mind.”

  “She won’t.”

  Phyllis alertly answered after two rings, and Layla squeezed Quin’s hand as she took a deep breath. “Hey, Phyllis.”

  “Layla, hon, it’s so good to hear your voice. How are ya?”

  “I’m good. Sorry I didn’t call earlier. I’ve been busy.”

  “Don’t mention it. I know movin’ keeps ya on your toes.”

  “I promised I would keep in touch,” Layla returned, “and I meant it. I already miss you guys.”

  “We miss you, too, hon, but it seems ya got outta this place just in time.”

  “What do you mean? Is something wrong?”

  “Where do I start?” Phyllis sighed. “It’s been one helluva weekend. Guess I’ll get the saddest news outta the way. Travis’ mom died this mornin’.”

  Layla gasped and tightened her grip on Quin’s hand. “Oh no. That’s awful news.”

  “Yeah,” Phyllis agreed. “He’s pretty tore up ’bout it. Found himself in a place he can’t joke his way out of.”

  “Damn. I hate that he’s going through this and I’m not there to help.”

  “I’m sure he’d like to hear from ya, but nothin’s gonna cheer him up right now. He’s got so much on his plate, what with everything else goin’ on.”

  “What else is going on?”

  “What isn’t goin’ on—that’s the question. This whole damn place is goin’ up in flames.”

  “Flames?”

  “Yeah,” Phyllis confirmed. “The diner burned down last night.”

  “What?” Layla blurted. “What happened?”

  “Nobody knows. Don’t even know where the fire started. One second we were in the middle of a bar rush; next second everyone’s screamin’ fire and stampedin’ out the door. We didn’t smell smoke; fire alarms didn’t sound; nothin’. It was bam fire.”

  “Is everyone okay?”

  “We all got out alive, but Manny was back washin’ dishes and got hit with some ceilin’ tiles. Burned him pretty good.”

  “But he’s okay?”

  “Yeah, glad to be alive; said a dozen Hail Mary’s after makin’ it outta there.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, hon, just shaken up and unemployed.”

  “I’m so sorry, Phyllis. That must have been scary.”

  “Yeah, pretty scary all right, but not ’til we were outside watchin’ it burn. We didn’t have time to be scared when we were gettin’ the heck outta there.”

  “I bet. I’m sorry you and Travis had such a horrible weekend. I should have called you guys sooner.”

  “Don’t worry ’bout that. We’ve had our hands full today anyway.” She was quiet for a moment. Then she cleared her throat and spoke again. “There’s somethin’ else I need to tell ya.”

  “What?” Layla asked, wondering how much bad news one phone call could yield.

  “There was another fire last night,” Phyllis explained.

  “Where?” Layla pressed.

  A moment of tense silence passed before Phyllis dropped the bomb. “Your old house, honey. It’s gone.”

  “What?” Layla exclaimed, clutching her nauseous stomach. “Was anyone in it?”

  “Shouldn’t have been. It happened ’round one in the mornin’.”

  “But how? What happened?”

  “Nobody knows. Neighbors didn’t even know it was on fire ’til it was gone.”

  “It’s completely g
one?”

  “Not one board left standin’. Same with the diner.”

  “Were there any other fires?”

  “No. Just the two. I’m sorry ’bout your house, hon. I know it held sentimental value.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’m just glad no one was hurt. Travis must be a wreck, though. I better call him before it gets any later.”

  “Good idea,” Phyllis agreed.

  “Call if you need anything,” Layla added, “or if Travis needs anything.”

  “Sure. Keep in touch now.”

  “I will. Bye, Phyllis.”

  Layla hung up and stared at the wall, trying to sort out the bad news. She was terribly upset for Travis, and she couldn’t decide how to interpret the two places having everything to do with her most recent past burning down in one night.

  “What happened?” Quin asked, pulling her closer.

  “Too much,” she answered. “Travis’ mom has been sick for a while, and she died this morning.”

  “That’s sad. I’m sorry for your friend.”

  “Yes, and I know exactly how he feels, because he’s alone in dealing with it, just like I was. His dad’s dead, he doesn’t have a family to depend on, and he’s a homosexual, so the community doesn’t have much to do with him. They’ll be of no help when it comes to the important stuff, and any attention they do give his loss will be artificial showboating. I feel absolutely awful for him.”

  “I can tell,” Quin whispered, kissing her hand. “What else happened?”

  “Well, apparently there were a couple of fires last night, and both the diner and my old house burned down.”

  Quin’s head popped up. “What? Both of them?”

  “Yep, both of them, completely gone.”

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  “One of the diner employees got burned, but everyone’s alive. My house should have been empty; it happened around one in the morning.”

  “Were there any other fires?”

  “No. Seems kind of odd, huh? Or maybe I’m reading too much into it. An empty house is a good target for drunken teenagers acting stupid.”