Hollow Back Girl

by Olivia R. Burton

  “I’d rather you only use it for important situations.”

  “Pizza can be a very important issue. If I don’t eat I get delirious, dizzy. I could lose consciousness and—” He leaned in, pressed his lips to mine. I lifted a hand, cupped his cheek, kissed him back. The kiss remained gentle, even as he pressed a hand to my bruised side, slid it to my back.

  “Are we—is this getting serious?” I asked after a moment, leaning my forehead on his. He met my eyes before pulling away, shaking his head.

  “Not terribly.”

  “Okay,” I said. He cocked his head.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No. I just like to know where we stand. As long as you’re honest with me about what we’re doing, I’m game.”

  “Good.” He kissed me again, pressing against me until I was on my back, my arms around him. He kept our contact chaste, despite the fact that I knew he’d noticed that I wasn’t wearing anything under his shirt. As he broke the kiss and moved to lie down next to me, I looked him over. I spoke as I grabbed my phone from between my legs and stretched to set it on the far nightstand. We rested in silence for a bit, his breathing slow but alert enough that I knew even staring at the ceiling he hadn’t drifted off. After a bit, I took a breath of my own, diving in.

  “How long have you known Chloe?”

  When I met his eyes again, he was watching me with a slight quirk to his lips, studying me. He dropped his gaze, lifted a hand to prop his head on his elbow.

  “Wasn’t sure you caught that.”

  “There was a lot being thrown around, today; even I was gonna catch some of it.”

  Owen sighed, his gaze on my chest as he considered his words. After a minute or so, he met my eyes again.

  “When I showed up at your office and saw her there, I was … surprised. That was the absolute last place I expected to run into Chloe Warren. We talked before she let me talk to you. She explained you knew nothing about … this world, and asked that I keep it on the down-low.”

  “She said I knew nothing?” I asked, a little insulted. “I knew stuff. I’d been attacked by a vampire and sexually harassed by Mel. I wasn’t exactly Pollyanna.”

  “Nothing being a relative term,” Owen assured me. “Comparatively, you knew nothing.”

  “Fine,” I agreed, shaking my head, still somewhat annoyed at her former assessment of me. “But I still can’t believe I didn’t notice you guys were lying to me.”

  “We didn’t lie to you,” he corrected. “We just danced around the issue.”

  “Hmm,” I said, considering that he was telling the truth about being dishonest. Shaking my head, wondering if them running around with guns and killing murderous fae had been a regular occurrence, I pressed on. “How do you know each other?”

  “Now that’s not my story to tell.” He reached out, took my hand, linking our fingers. The lust was still there, lazing about in whirls and twists like smoke, but not quite ready to take over.

  “I’m not sure it’s one she’ll tell me.”

  “Do you need to know?”

  I thought about it, considering the facts. Even not knowing Chloe’s history, I still trusted her with my life. Even if I never found out what she’d done before we’d met each other, I knew I could count on her to be there, even when I was doing something stupid.

  “I probably don’t.”

  “We good?” Owen asked, before a yawn split his lips.

  I ran through the day in my mind, tried to think of anything else that had snagged on the folds of my brain and left me curious. I snorted, laughing suddenly at what did.

  “Did you guys leave that poor werewolf out there tied to that tree? You think he’s still there?”

  “No, Chloe wouldn’t have left that chain. It’s not something you can just buy at a corner store.”

  “I hope he’s not too mad at me.”

  “Really?” Owen demanded, a thorn of irritation jabbing into my side. I laughed again.

  “He seemed so awkward! I’m pretty sure my boobs were the only ones he’d ever seen up close.”

  “So?”

  “So I just feel bad making him think he was going to be the hero and then turning around and tying him to a tree. What’d you guys do to the other guards?”

  Owen got a serious look on his face, but I felt the humor in him.

  “Vulcan nerve pinch, every one.”

  “I didn’t know you were a nerd!” I exclaimed, yanking my hand away as if he were suddenly offensive to touch. He rolled his eyes, reaching over to flip off the light. “I may not be able to sleep with you anymore.”

  “I think I can persuade you,” he murmured though I could hear the sleep in his voice already and knew he didn’t mean quite yet.

  I woke up to almost pitch darkness, Owen’s breathing calm and measured beside me. We’d never made it under the covers, but the room was toasty so I wasn’t bothered. Taking a deep breath, I rolled onto my un-bruised side, reached a hand out so I could rest it on his chest. I felt it when he woke up, a spark of shock, a bit of worry. His body tensed, his hand coming up to mine. He realized nearly instantaneously that I wasn’t there to harm him, but it took him some time to let the tension bleed out.

  I could smell him, the soap from his shower, his shampoo, just the way his skin smelled. Moving closer, I laid a kiss on his shoulder, moved my hand up to cup his cheek. He tucked his arm under me, pulled me until I understood that he wanted me on top.

  Glad to oblige, I brought my knees up to kneel at either side of him as I kissed his lips, ran my fingers through his soft hair. His hands were gentle as they moved along under the shirt to rub my back in lazy circles. Lust came slowly, arousal on its heels. I ground myself into him through his sleep pants; he answered by moving his hands to cup my breasts.

  On a sigh, I sat up, pulled the shirt off; he left his hands in place as I did, shifting to rub a thumb roughly over my nipple and make me let out a moan of pleasure. He lifted to meet me halfway when I bent to kiss him again. I felt his hands leave my breasts as he pushed off the bed, forcing me upward. Once he was sitting up, he wrapped both arms around my back, pressing me hard against his naked chest.

  I hissed along his lips, my ribs aching their displeasure at the tightness. The sound made him groan and he kissed, open-mouthed, down to my throat. He bit me hard and I cried out, fisted my hands in his hair. I felt both the pain and the spark of pleasure it brought him as I yanked. Pulling back so that I could see the rough shape of his face in the dark, I caught his attention.

  “Too rough,” I said.

  “That’s a surprise, coming from you,” he murmured, a smile in his voice.

  “Give me a break,” I said. “I look like the Grimace.”

  He laughed, full and hearty, before loosening his grip. Gentle and slow, he slid a hand from my back to run his fingers through my hair.

  “Fair enough.” Leaning in to kiss me again, he petted a hand down my spine, his fingers feather-light on my skin. For awhile, we just touched each other, just felt the way it was to hold each other and enjoy the warmth of skin to skin. Eventually, though, I realized that between work, injury, and sickness, I’d been waiting too damn long.

  I tucked one thumb under the waistband of his pants, pressed the palm of my other hand against his chest. He let me shove him down to the bed and lifted his hips so I could pull his pants off. As I stripped him I felt him stretch, heard the drawer next to the bed open, heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper. By the time his pants were in a pile on the floor and I’d crawled back up the bed, I found him dressed and ready to go.

  I felt his hands grip my hips as I grabbed the base of him, angled my hips to glide him in. He held on to my waist at first and I laid my hands over his, keeping my pace slow. As my body started to feel full and tight, I gripped his hand, moved it along my belly. He took the hint, brought his hand to his mouth before bringing his damp thumb back to tease me. On a moan, I squeezed his hips with my knees, quickened my pace.

&n
bsp; His other hand left my hip, moved up to rub over my chest. He avoided my bruised breast, was torturously gentle as he pinched my nipple, squeezed it. I let out a frustrated, uneven cry before dropping my hands to his belly, steadying myself as I started to lose my rhythm. Just as I felt the orgasm threaten to burst within me, he let out a breath that was almost a growl and gripped my hips. I felt him try to control my movement, try to force me to match the pace he wanted.

  I smiled up at the ceiling, opening my eyes for a moment as I felt his frantic determination. I did my best to conform to what he wanted, moved my hand between my thighs to tease myself as he’d done, while I sucked up his excitement and pleasure, realizing distantly that stealing emotions was a trick my empathy had been pulling for years—just never outside the bedroom. I let my mind go fuzzy, glad for the brainless pleasure of orgasm when it hit.

  His thumbs dug into my pelvis when he came. He tried to hold me still, arching against me, and I moved my fingers to his wrists, squeezing him as he did me. After a moment, I slid a hand down to rest on his heart, felt it pounding. He let his breath out slowly and his grip on me loosened. I bent down to kiss him, ran my fingers through his hair again.

  “You may have just given me more bruises,” I murmured against his mouth. He smiled.

  “Hey, you started it,” he said, making me laugh.

  An hour later, cleaned up and dressed in some of Owen’s extra clothes, I snuck in through the front door, hoping my family was asleep and no one would notice that I hadn’t been home or talked to any of them since Thomas the day before.

  “Were you off having sex with your cute friend?” Robin asked, startling me out of my smug satisfaction over having been perfectly quiet and successful in my sneaking.

  Breath hitching, I spun around to find her settled into the sitting room, Stella asleep on her chest. Grinning, knowing she’d startled me in a way she’d so rarely been able to do through her life, she patted the couch next to her with her free hand. Rolling my eyes, I pulled my coat off, draped it over the newel post, and headed in.

  I dropped down next to her, felt my heart melt a little at Stella’s sleepy little face, and then met my sister’s eyes.

  “Yes. I was,” I said finally. “Not that it’s any of your business.

  Robin reached a hand up, touched my jaw next to the scrapes and frowned. “You look terrible. And those aren’t your clothes.”

  “I feel okay. Partly because these aren’t my clothes.”

  Robin laughed and we both looked down, watching Stella snooze. Mouth wide open, body hunched like a tiny bell-ringer, she was out cold.

  “How’re things here? Thom made it home?”

  “Oh yeah. He won’t stop talking about how weird it is that he got lost—as if he’s the first person to make a wrong turn—” Robin rolled her eyes and I felt a bump of sisterly affection. “—and dad took his sweet time getting out there, but they made it home. Mom worried about you all afternoon, but dad insisted you were okay, that you were with good people.”

  “He did?” I asked, shocked, thinking of his assessment of Chloe and her easy dishonesty. Robin nodded, considering for a bit, before her brows shot up.

  “Oh, Natalie’s still feeling bad that she can’t heal you completely.” I sighed, shaking off the idea.

  “I wish she wouldn’t be. The fact that she probably saved my life is more than enough.”

  “I know. That’s what I told her, but she won’t let it go. In fact, she’s decided that, instead of wanting to take apart radios and expensive electronics that her father bought her to play with and not destroy, she now wants to be a doctor.”

  “Uh oh. Does Jake hate me?”

  “For making his daughter want to go to a hundred-and-ninety years of medical school that’s going to break us financially?” I winced and Robin laughed. “Maybe, but if he kills you, Natalie would probably be able to bring you back to life.”

  We shared a small laugh and Robin shifted, sliding Stella a little further down her chest so the baby wasn’t drooling on bare skin anymore.

  “Why aren’t you upstairs with Super Dad?”

  “Stella was fussy, so I had her whine it out and then let her sleep out here.”

  “Let her, or made her?”

  Robin bristled slightly, before insisting, “I wouldn’t—”

  “Ah!” I interrupted, pointing at her. “You’re lying.”

  Jaw set, she glared at me for a moment, eyes hard. Swallowing thickly, she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. I laughed, much too giddy to be able to catch my perfect sister in an admission of using her powers for selfishness rather than good.

  “I didn’t.”

  “That’s the truth.”

  “I’m always so worried it might hurt the babies somehow,” she said, a little flutter of panic flapping. “So, I just try to put them to sleep like a normal mother.”

  “But?” I drew the word out, wiggling my finger in her face. “Keep going.”

  “But!” She slapped my hand out of the way. “I’m not saying I haven’t forced the issue. Once. Maybe twice.”

  “Yeah, maybe twice,” I mused with a smile. After a second, my eyes fell to Stella again and my grin softened as I considered the future. “I wonder how I’ll be as a mom, especially now that I know what being an empath parent involves.”

  “You thinking about finding out soon?”

  “No,” I said, despite the warm fuzzy feeling sparked by Owen trusting me enough to let me contact him whenever I wanted. “Not with Owen, not now. That’s not how our relationship works.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “No,” I repeated, shaking my head. “I don’t think it is. I’m not ready for marriage and kids and your whole perfect life package. I tried it before and sucked at it. I’ll stick to random hook-ups and long-distance friendships with benefits.”

  “Well, don’t tell mom that.”

  “I try not to tell mom anything.”

  “Yet you bring your not-boyfriend over and rub his nice ass right in her face.”

  I laughed, happy Robin being happy with Jake and his perfect ass hadn’t turned her into a nun.

  “I was desperate,” I admitted after a bit. “And Natalie is so very handy.”

  “But you’re sure—” she began. I held up a hand, giving my sternest glare.

  “Don’t say it!”

  “I wasn’t!” she lied. “I was going to … I was just going to ask if you’ve read any of Stan’s books.”

  “No,” I wrinkled my nose. “But I guess he has another one coming out soon.”

  “Today, actually.”

  “Well, that’s a coincidence.” I considered, wondering for the first time in over a decade if Stan might call and wish me happy birthday now that we’d gotten back on speaking terms. “What’s it about?”

  “It’s about pirates.”

  “Really?” I laughed, astounded and amused by the idea. “Stan? Wrote about pirates?” I couldn’t imagine it. They seemed the furthest thing from what he would create—dirty and rude and willing to steal the shirt off your back even if it was all you had left.

  “They’re not what you’d think,” Robin said. “It’s got kind of a Steampunk vibe, so they aren’t just sailing the high seas. Everything takes place in cities in the sky and aboard high-flying airships. Apparently there’s one merry band that travel to other pirate ships and—” Robin gave a pleased little snort. “—and organize their loot for them, clean them up. They help the other pirates to be their best, teach them to read and such. It’s its own genre, now. Sneedpunk.”

  “You are kidding me.”

  “I am. A little. About the new genre.”

  “I don’t know if that makes them pirates, specifically,” I said after a moment.

  “Well, I haven’t read it, but I’ll let you know more when I do. It’s probably on my Kindle right now, actually.”

  I made another non-committal sound, kicked off my shoes, and pulled my feet up onto the couch. Robin rea
ched her free hand over and patted my knee.

  “You never told us what you want to do for your birthday.”

  “Stay home. I want to stay here with my family, eat cake, and not move. I don’t want to see any weird creatures—except Izzy—or sick people. I don’t want to feel any emotions that don’t belong to you guys. And Izzy.”

  “You need to talk to dad, by the way.”

  “Why?” I asked, feeling a little bit of the old panic flare inside of me; we’d been fighting for twenty years and getting along with him was going to take some getting used to.

  “When you slurped my panic, I felt it. I haven’t felt it from dad in … Well, I was little. You’re bad at it.”

  “I just started!” I protested. Then, after curiosity got hold, I lifted a brow. “What did it feel like?”

  “Um,” Robin mumbled, her eyes going distant. “Kind of like getting my arm stuck in a vacuum hose.”

  “Weird,” I said.

  “You’re going to have to practice.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  I grunted, glanced at the clock on the wall. My eyes lit up.

  “It’s almost breakfast time! Birthday breakfast time.” I let out a happy sound at the thought and Robin snorted.

  “You can’t have cake for breakfast.”

  “Aww, come on,” I begged. “I look terrible, remember? It’s comfort food. Besides, a stack of pancakes covered in frosting and sprinkles isn’t cake.”

  “Yeah, you tell mom that. I’ll watch.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chloe and I sat alone in the sitting room, backed up to the fireplace. Izzy had led the kids on a parade through the house, each of them wearing paper crowns and blanket capes; it was a game only children and Izzy could understand. My dad had hung around, surprisingly, sitting in the living room with the rest of the family, possibly so high on the cake he’d eaten—homemade and vegan thanks to my mom and Chloe—that he was immune to Izzy’s shenanigans.

  I’d eaten a lot of cake trying to achieve that state of euphoria, but had yet to get that lucky. Dad really was better at empathy than me, from the look of it, so maybe he really did have a few tricks I needed to learn. I tried to get eager about learning, but it was going to take some time.