by Lori Drake
“You seem to have an answer for everything,” Joey said as she studied her mother carefully.
Adelaide smiled thinly. “I did say I’d been giving it some thought.”
Joey nodded and tipped her head back, turning her eyes toward the ceiling. “You should talk to Chris about it. He should be part of the decision, since it’s probably going to affect him more than anyone.” She paused a moment as something tickled at the edge of her memory, then blinked and fixed her eyes on Adelaide again. “Chris was born in Seattle.”
Adelaide dipped her head, but there was a hint of pleasure in her gaze. As if she were pleased Joey had puzzled it out so quickly. “Indeed. A coincidence, but one that may work in our favor.”
“You should still talk to him about it,” Joey said, then drained the last of the coffee from her mug and stood. “If you don’t, I will.”
3
Two days passed. Two grueling days of nearly nonstop activity. Despite the fact that dozens of people died in the average American city every day, it’d taken some effort to find a dead guy that could pass for Chris. They’d finally found a stiff in Oakland that fit the bill, which had involved a last-minute flight and a seven-hour road trip home in a rented hearse.
The fact that anyone could rent a hearse with little to no fuss was one of those things Joey had never needed or wanted to know.
By the time Joey and Sam finished burying the body, it was nearly three in the morning. If she hadn’t been so dirty and smelly, Joey would’ve fallen right into bed. Her arms, back, and hands ached from shoveling. A quick shower rinsed away the sweat and dirt, and the hot water soothed her aching muscles somewhat. A soak in the bathtub would have been better, but she was too tired. Nonetheless, by the time she did fall into bed, she was warm and relaxed. Her eyes drifted closed, but before sleep could claim her, an all-too-familiar sound tickled her sensitive ears. Chris was having another nightmare.
Joey lay there a few moments to see if he’d simmer down on his own, but when the distressed sounds shifted into outright screams, she tossed back the covers and bolted from the bed. Maybe it was more than a nightmare this time.
Heart pounding, she rushed across the hall and flung open Chris’s door. The room was dark, but no darker than her own. A quick scan of the room revealed no shadowy assailants or magic in the air. Chris writhed on the bed, sheets twisted around him as another harsh cry tore from his throat. Joey hurried over and climbed halfway onto the bed, planting one knee on the edge to give her the boost she needed to reach for him.
“Chris, wake up. It’s just a dream.” Her hand landed on his bare chest and his eyes popped open.
His hand clamped down on her wrist, hard enough to grind the bones together.
“Ow! Chris, it’s me. It’s Joey. You’re home, you’re safe. You were just having a bad dream.”
That viselike grip lingered for a few tense heartbeats before he pushed her hand away and sat up. His skin was damp with sweat, a fine sheen that shone in the moonlight slanting through the blinds.
“Everything okay in here?” Sam stood in the doorway, looking into the room with concern.
“Yeah,” Chris said, but there was a tremor in his voice. He rubbed his face with shaking hands.
“You sure? If she’s bothering you, I can get rid of her.”
Joey shot her oldest brother a glare. “He was having a nightmare, jackass. Go back to bed.”
Sam went, pulling the door closed behind him. Joey shifted to sit on the edge of the bed and leaned over to turn on the bedside lamp. The soft white bulb cast a warm pool of light across the bed, banishing the darkness to the periphery.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to go?”
Chris didn’t answer. Taking that as license to remain, she reached for his hand, but to her surprise, he jerked it away.
“Is something wrong?”
He glanced over at her, blue eyes accusatory. “I could ask the same of you.”
Joey’s brows pinched together in confusion. “What?”
“I thought we were okay, but you’ve been going out of your way to avoid me for two days while I’ve been cooped up in this house, basically under house arrest.”
“Chris, that’s not— I haven’t been avoiding you.” She reached for him again, this time laying her hand on his shoulder. His skin was hot under her fingers, almost feverish. “I’ve been trying to help you.”
His shoulders shook as he drew a deep, shuddering breath and blew it out slowly. “It seemed like more than that.”
“You should know better.” Joey let her hand fall away, annoyance flaring. She’d missed him too. More than she’d care to admit. Maybe it was the lingering ache in her muscles reminding her of her extraordinary labors on his behalf, but she couldn’t help but feel indignant. “I’ve been working my ass off, hunting down a body to take your place in that damn coffin. And that’s not even counting the actual physical labor of unburying the original coffin, discovering it was damaged, and having to buy another one. In the middle of the night.”
Chris looked at her again, frowning. “How was I supposed to know that?” he asked, voice tense. “You didn’t tell me. You’ve barely said a dozen words to me in the last forty-eight hours. So forgive me if I’m just a little too damaged to not take it personally.” He looked away, jaw tightening.
Joey’s heart melted and her annoyance fled. “You’re not damaged.”
“You have no idea what it’s been like,” he said. His voice was small. “That bitch is dead and she’s still got her hooks in me. I can’t shake it.”
Joey shifted onto her knees and crawled over to kneel behind him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him, leaning her head against his neck. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I was so focused on trying to solve your problems that I lost sight of what they really were.”
He laid a hand on her arm where it crossed his chest. His fingers curled around her forearm and he sighed. “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but I am grateful for what you and Sam have been doing. It’s just been so damn lonely without you here, and I could really use some studio therapy.”
The impulse to dance out one’s problems was one that Joey was all too familiar with. “Hmm. Well, it’s late, but I think I can fit you in.” She squeezed him, then slipped away to stand. He followed her with his eyes, forehead wrinkling. She held out a hand. “Dance with me.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
She smiled and beckoned him with curled fingers. “So? Come on, Martin. Man up.”
He extracted himself from the twisted sheets and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, eyeing her for a moment before standing. It was right about then that she realized he wasn’t wearing anything but a pair of boxers.
Maybe this isn’t the best idea.
It shouldn’t have mattered. She’d seen him in less; nudity was no big deal among packmates. But this wasn’t the full moon, and they weren’t preparing to shift. Her eyes roamed his form as he approached, and memories of the kisses they’d shared while he was inhabiting Dean’s body surfaced, unbidden. Maybe she had been avoiding him. Just a little.
She swallowed, throat suddenly dry, and lifted a hand without thinking to touch his stomach. His abs twitched under her fingertips as she traced an invisible line where the spelled blade had pierced his abdomen. There was no trace of the wound remaining, not even a scar. He inhaled sharply, and she lifted her eyes to meet his.
“Does it hurt?” she asked, but he shook his head and curled his fingers around hers, lifting her hand up and away as his other hand found her back.
“I thought you wanted to dance,” he said.
Joey smiled and laid her free hand on his shoulder. Her tired muscles burned in protest, but she ignored them as she settled into hold and let him take the lead. Moments later, they were waltzing in a tight circle around the limited space available. There was no music, but they didn’t ne
ed it. For the first time since this whole mess had started, all the pieces of her fragmented life clicked together. Joey lost herself in the dance, and in that moment, all was right with the world. God, how she’d missed him.
Her eyes only left his when he spun or twirled her, the occasional mishap making them both laugh. One such moment came when her foot slipped on the carpet, and instead of gracefully twirling back into his arms, she fell against his chest.
“Meant to do that,” she said with a laugh, but his arms around her felt so good that she lingered rather than pull away.
“Uh huh, right,” he said. His skepticism was clear, but a smile warmed his face. They swayed together, the tone of their dance shifting after a few quiet moments. His arms loosened from around her, hands finding her shoulders to slide down her arms. She stepped away, catching one of his hands as she struck a classic rhumba pose. He responded in kind, and soon they were moving together once more.
This dance was different. Slower. More dramatic. Sensual. Hips swung and swayed as they alternated between dancing in close proximity and side by side, limbs stretched in artful lines. They’d always had good chemistry, but this night was different. The air between them practically buzzed, and they weren’t smiling or laughing any longer. Instead, the glances they exchanged were intense, charged with sexual energy.
Joey knew that things were getting out of control even before he pulled her against him and held her there. Her senses were on fire. His scent filled her nostrils. She wanted to roll in it. Goosebumps broke out all over her body as his fingers delved into her hair. Lost in his cerulean eyes, she curled fingers behind his neck, and he groaned. She felt him stir against her stomach, hot through two thin layers of fabric.
That was the moment she should have stopped, should have gone back to her room and shut the door. Locked it. Barricaded it. Not to keep him out, but to keep herself in. To keep the keg of gunpowder that was their relationship tightly sealed. Instead, she pulled his head down to hers and lit the fuse.
Their lips met in a firestorm of unchecked desire that threatened to consume her. Joey reveled in the heat, pulling him closer even as she pressed herself against him. He responded with a sound that was part groan and part growl. It made her insides quiver. She’d thought kissing him through Dean was intense, but it paled in comparison.
His hands found her waist and he lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around him, and he slid his hands downward, pulling her hips more firmly against his. Her hands caught his head and she moaned into the kiss, then broke it to gaze into his eyes. The unmasked desire she found there made her shiver even as she felt it mirrored in her. There was no going back, not this night.
“Take me to bed,” she said, sliding her fingers into his dark hair.
“Are you sure?”
Her fingers tightened in his hair, tugging until his head tipped back, exposing his throat. She dipped her head and ran the tip of her nose along his neck, breathing in his scent.
“Yes,” she murmured, a hint of a growl in her voice. “I’m sure.”
He carried her to the bed and crawled onto it while she clung to him. His mouth found hers again as he settled over her, lips locking in arduous combat. It was intense, unfiltered. Raw. They tugged impatiently at each other’s clothes, lost in the heat of the moment. Something tore, but she couldn’t say what and was beyond caring anyhow.
Joey couldn’t remember wanting anything, anyone, so much. They made love with ferocity, rolling back and forth as their alpha natures vied for dominance. Submission had never been her strong point, but in the end, she found herself gazing up at him when the pleasure finally overwhelmed her. Her name spilled from his breathless lips as he joined her, nearly setting her off all over again. It was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard.
“God, you’re amazing,” he murmured afterward, arms trembling with the effort to hold himself up.
“I’m just getting warmed up,” she teased, but there was truth to it as well.
He laughed and rolled to one side, but drew her into his arms and kissed her warmly, if breathlessly. “Give me a minute and I’ll see what I can do.”
There was, as it turned out, quite a bit more that he could do.
Much later, they turned out the light and lay together like spoons in a drawer. Flush with languid warmth, Joey snuggled her back to Chris’s front, smiling as she felt him twitch in response. He groaned softly in her ear.
“Enough, woman.” His voice was as warm as the breath tickling her ear, and his lips pressed softly to her earlobe before he settled his head on the pillow beside hers.
Joey settled down and closed her eyes, letting sleep claim her at last. She awoke several hours later to the distant sounds of the household stirring to life. The inescapable reality of what had happened hit her moments later, when the fact that she was naked in Chris’s bed penetrated the sleepy fog addling her brain.
She turned over carefully, doing her best not to jostle the bed and wake him. He lay sprawled on his back, one bare leg peeking out from beneath the sheet. Flashes of memory assailed her, vivid enough to spike her heart rate and tighten her stomach. His hands, his mouth, the sheer intensity of their passion was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. But the way she felt about him went beyond physical pleasure.
She was in love with him.
When it had happened, she wasn’t sure. Did it matter? She wanted him—needed him—so intensely that it almost hurt. Joey thought she’d known love before, but this was different. Primal. Fierce. Overwhelming.
She was in love with him, and it terrified her.
It was that terror that drove her to creep from his bed, collect her pajamas, and steal from the room while he slumbered on.
Chris cracked his eyes open and immediately wished he hadn’t. Sunlight assailed them, brighter than it ought to be for morning. He turned his head and squinted at the clock. It was nearly noon, but then again, he’d been up pretty late.
Remembering why brought a smile to his lips, despite the fact that his bed was disappointingly devoid of Joey. Her scent lingered, mixed with his on the sheets, confirming that it hadn’t been a dream. He lay there for a few extra minutes before he stretched and rolled out of bed to face the day. Or, at least, what was left of it.
He’d slept like a rock once he’d fallen back asleep, the nightmares remaining at bay for the rest of the night. In the wake of a solid seven hours of sleep, he felt better than he had in days. Almost human, so to speak. He even scraped three days of stubble from his face after a hot shower and slapped on some lightly fragranced aftershave.
Downstairs, he raided the fridge for sandwich fixings and was in the process of making himself some lunch when Emma wandered in.
“Hey, Em, how’s it going?” he asked. “Want something to eat?”
“That’s my line.” She managed a small smile, but sadness lingered in her eyes. “Okay, I guess. You?”
Chris did his best to tamp down his sudden good cheer, for Emma’s sake if nothing else.
“Okay,” he said, and shrugged. “Still housebound as far as I know, but I haven’t seen anyone yet today to ask.”
“Oh?” Emma tilted her head, peering at him from behind her prescription lenses. “Late night?”
He tried not to grin. Really, he did. It didn’t work. “Yeah.”
Emma didn’t press. She opened the fridge instead and rummaged through the plastic containers of leftovers until she found what she was looking for.
“Sara’s sweet. She put green lids on all the vegan stuff,” she said, on her way to the microwave.
Chris smiled. “Yeah, she’s a keeper.”
Silence settled between them, during which Chris couldn’t help but think about the heap of trouble that had led to Emma becoming an extended guest of the family. On top of being hunted by the leader of her old coven in Nevada, she’d been arrested and charged with numerous crimes involving the car wreck, her false identity, and pretending to be Chris to empty the bank ac
count he’d opened for her. She was out on bail, awaiting her day in court.
“Hey, I’ve been thinking. Once this whole ‘returned from the dead’ thing is sorted out, I can testify at your trial.”
Emma turned to look his way and leaned against the counter. “Um, well, you’ll have to talk to Jon about it. If he thinks it’ll help, I’m all for it. Thanks for offering.”
“That’s what friends are for.” Chris smiled at her and topped his giant ham sandwich with an almost comically small slice of bread, then moved it to a plate.
“You’re in a good mood today,” Emma said.
“I guess I am.”
“Any particular reason why?”
Although he wasn’t inclined to kiss and tell, the need to confide in someone was high. Emma was one of his closest friends, but he still hesitated, not wanting to rub his happiness in her face when she was still grieving.
“I think Joey and I are going to be okay,” he said eventually, and walked around the island to settle on one of the barstools with his lunch.
“Oh? That’s good.” The microwave beeped, and she turned back to it to attend to her lunch.
“Speaking of which, have you seen her yet today?”
“Seen who?” Joey said from behind him. He jumped on his stool, then laughed and twisted to look over at her.
“You. Were your ears burning?” he asked, lifting a brow.
Joey smirked and shook her head, lingering a few steps from the door.
“Want something to eat?” Emma said, glancing over her shoulder. “There’s more than enough of this butternut squash and quinoa to share.”
“No thanks, I’m good,” Joey said, but walked over to the fridge and opened it, looking inside.
Chris watched her, appreciating the view while he bit into his sandwich. He didn’t even try to hide the admiring glance; those days were over. The whole household would know soon enough. It was hard to keep secrets in a house where everyone had super hearing and extremely sensitive noses.