by Lisa Daniels
Instead, he found himself saying, “Are you sure about that, Miss Grieves? Did you want him… or just a relationship with someone who didn’t care you were a necromancer?”
Ah. There it was. That shock, that disbelief, and then the budding anger stealing over her face. “How dare you? You’re way out of line.” She finished her drink, started on another. “I don’t think I want you as my bodyguard anymore. You’re being too inappropriate. This isn’t done at all.”
“Am I wrong?”
She placed the cup down hard on the table and stood up, towering over him. “I just told you that my boyfriend broke up with me, and you have the audacity to say that I wanted it. Don’t you know how hard I’ve been working? How many hours I put in, and the time I have given him?”
He stood up as well, the chair scraping behind him, and now he was the one towering over her. “Could have fooled me, Miss Grieves. But I think we both know the only person being fooled is you. Hanging onto something even though it’s long gone. Pretending everything will be fine as soon as the next gig ends!” The words hit him as well with a sharp pain, because hadn’t he been doing that? With the necromancer, with wanting to hear his father’s spirit, all because of a promise broken so long ago? Wasn’t that why he carried around the locket with his father’s ashes?
Of course his father would have moved on. And this entire career he’d forged, on that whimsy alone—it was a fake, stupid career, because the necromancers kept on dropping dead anyway. Maybe they were just cursed. Maybe this was just what happened when they associated with the dead.
“You are the most insolent, nosiest moron I’ve ever met. I should kick you out right now.”
“But you won’t,” he said. “Because you know.” He deflated. “We always know, deep down.”
“Oh, feck off with that shit,” she said, irate, now gulping down a fourth glass. “And now I need a bathroom break.” She marched away from him, rather aggressively locked the door, and didn’t come out for the next fifteen minutes. Which gave Albert plenty of time to mull over his choices, about whether or not he was taking things too far with Rosen Grieves, or not far enough. In retrospect, the entire basis of their interactions had been less than a week. But it also was one of the most intense weeks Albert had ever experienced. Something about her just pulled him in, hook, line, and sinker. There were individuals like that in the world, who could make an impact just by existing. They didn’t need to breathe a word, but they carried themselves in such a way that… well, he supposed they might be a planet, with its gravity attracting moons, dust, and ice. There was that magnetic pull, that personal brilliance about them that people couldn’t help but sense.
His father once had that. Albert’s mother always liked to joke that he just came out of nowhere, and one moment she was looking at him, the next she was married.
One moment he was there as well, and the next, gone.
People just didn’t understand the gift a necromancer gave. They were like knives—bad in the wrong hands, fantastic in the right ones.
But was this interest in necromancers as a whole the reason why he pushed Rosen? The alcohol began to influence him, causing his inner panther to start absently purring. He’d never pushed this hard with the others. Giving relationship advice, of all things, listening to her, protecting her, and admiring the efficiency with which she did everything.
Okay, sure, she might be a little attractive. No, scratch that—hella attractive. If he didn’t lie to himself. And if she had the slightest inkling of interest in him, he would protest, naturally…
But not very much. Though it might make things awkward when they inevitably broke away as per the end of the contract.
If they didn’t die to crazed spirits first, of course.
When she finally slithered out of the bathroom, it was clear that the drink was taking its course.
“Had a few too many sips, by the looks of it, Grieves.”
“Why aren’t you gone yet?” she replied, attempting to reach past him for another bottle, since the first was empty. He gently placed his hand on her wrist and pulled her away from the danger.
“Because my duty, as ever, is toward you.”
“Perhaps if you just shut up and actually did what you were supposed to, I wouldn’t be so mad at you,” she said, prodding him in the chest. The way she looked up at him seemed endearing, somehow, and his eyes followed the movement of her tongue as it dabbed at her bottom lip.
“Nah. You’re just mad because you know I’m right.”
“You…” Anger flashed over her eyes, and she gripped him tight about the shirt, shoving him with a surprising amount of strength. He could have resisted, but he allowed himself to be backed completely into the wall, where there was no more room to maneuver. No more room to hide. “You’re not right. God, I’m so mad…” He felt her breath tremble against his chin. He risked leaning forward slightly, intending to say something in her ear, but she seemed to have another idea in mind.
Lips touched his. Not soft, but hard, with a feverish, drunken passion that stormed out of nowhere, igniting his amused curiosity into sudden arousal. She hooked a leg between his, pressing him harder against the wall, hands exploring, scrabbling, needy. Lost in the daze, the fire whipping between them, he kissed mindlessly, breaths snatched between each lip lock, hands taking the chance to slide over her, in and under her shirt. His inner panther purred in delight, adding to the lust, overloading his senses with animal desire.
With a growl, he scooped her up and charged toward the bed, carrying her with her legs hooked around his waist. He flew at the bed and managed to brace himself so that they fell more gracefully than disastrously against it. Nails raked his back, and she let out a breathy moan when he bucked himself against her, letting her feel his rising erection.
This is a bad idea, he told himself, even as his lips crashed against hers and their tongues entwined. Everything about her screamed for him to touch, to caress, to take. The way she was sprawled out beneath him, legs spread, her hands attempting to crush him closer to her body, the sheer desire oozing out of her made him almost lose it completely.
But somehow, through the burning desire, he managed to pull himself away long enough to gasp, “We shouldn’t.”
“Oh, I know we shouldn’t,” she said with surprising clarity in spite of her drinking. “And these are probably rebound feelings kicking in. Just the need… the need to hold something. Anything.”
“Perhaps… perhaps I best leave you alone,” he said, attempting to extricate himself from her questing hands. It wasn’t easy, knowing that she was completely into this. His inner panther also hated him in that moment, for not trying hard enough to stake a claim. “I don’t want to be a drunken mistake and potentially make you lose focus even further, Miss Grieves.”
“I like the way you say that,” she breathed, a slow, salacious smile consuming her lips. “Say it again.”
Oh boy… “Miss Grieves,” he said, deliberately lowering his voice, letting it become a purr. I should back off. Just back off. Do the right thing.
“There’s just this way you say it.” Rosen grabbed him by the front of his white shirt again. The material was loose enough for her to make fists with. “Like my name’s the most important thing in the world.”
“Right now, to me, it is,” he said, entirely truthful. Since she was his charge, his money, and his life all in one.
“Oh… you shouldn’t have said that…”
“Why?”
In response, she flipped them both over. “Because now I’m not letting you out of this bed until we’re done.”
Just like that, the voice of reason vanished in a puff of desire. Well… since she seemed to be completely into this, he may as well indulge.
After all, this was just blowing off steam, right? Just sex. Nothing more.
Nothing wrong with that. He began to tug off her annoying clothes.
His mouth brushed against her neck. The way she arched under him, eager
for his touch, sent him into a slight state of giddiness, and made his inner panther rumble in satisfaction.
Mine, he thought, fumbling at the rest of her clothes, touching that soft, silken flesh beneath, letting out eager gasps through his lips. He marked her skin in places where her uniform could hide it, knowing that she likely wouldn’t appreciate showing the world someone had possessed her, taken her. She needed to show the world she was untouchable, after all.
He wanted to show her something else entirely. Something she deserved. Now revealed to him at last, he examined her with admiration, with fire burning in his soul. His lips touched neck, collar, the top of her breasts, and then the tips of each one, taking time to draw her in, to elicit gasps and whimpers of desire from her throat. Each sound she emitted sent a jolt of powerful satisfaction through him, a feeling of savage encouragement to continue, to wring her out of all those sounds, which told him he was doing everything right.
There was something magnificent about taking control in bed—in being responsible for someone else’s pleasure. He wanted to do it right. He wanted the target of his desire to be writhing in ecstasy, all because of him. She squirmed harder when he placed one knee between her legs and began to grind on top of her, pressing his knee and thigh into the wetness there, harder and harder until, with a little shudder, he knew he had made her orgasm. A small one, to be sure, but an orgasm just with his knee alone.
Her pupils were blown, her hair a mess, and she found it harder to string syllables together, caving under the relentless assault of pleasure he offered her. He was careful not to let her have too much contact with his erection, because he felt so sensitive that he knew he wouldn’t last long once he moved to that part of sex. So instead, he focused on her sounds, on raking and kissing and licking her body, and only when she seemed desperate enough to pop once more did he finally allow the contact to happen. Sinking into her sheathed him in warmth, and she parted easily, her head rocking back into the pillow, exposing the curve of her neck. Each of her lovely muscles were taut and inviting.
Albert buried his face into that neck and went hard and fast into her, knowing she needed it, that anything less would fizzle her out and take a little while to get going again. Lightning coursed through his body, and his arms ached with the effort of holding himself above her as he reached his orgasm, encouraged by hers as she shuddered and clenched beneath, sending him over the edge.
Wow, he thought, trying to calm his racing heart. This felt like far more than he’d anticipated when being with a woman. This felt… right.
They lay afterward in bed together, Albert feeling near comatose, Rosen blithely sleeping by his side. He recovered fast, though, from his euphoric stupor, long enough to sit up onto his elbows and regard Rosen Grieves next to him. The bedsheets were rumpled around her, and she’d tucked one leg over them to cool it off. She was completely naked and quite the sight for Albert, who decided to take some time to trace over everything about her body, and pick up on some of the things he’d noticed just by his touch.
Dear god, this woman clearly liked working out, and had something to show for all her efforts, too. She’d managed to wear out a damn panther shifter, and that took no small doing. Rosen Grieves, it seemed, was full of surprises. He lifted up a hand to brush back a stray lock of hair, and she chose that moment to open her eyes. Not as asleep as he thought.
“What is this?” he asked, and although she frowned slightly, she seemed to get what he meant.
“A distraction,” she replied. She smiled lazily up at him, but there was something in those words that sent a pang of disappointment through him. “Two adults in a working relationship, also working something else on the side. It doesn’t have to be anything else.”
Ah. That made sense. It also made things easy. So why exactly did he feel that odd twinge of hurt when she said those words? He brushed it aside as quickly as it came.
“Thank you for the clarification, Miss Grieves. So perhaps I should make my leave now, so you may sleep peacefully?”
“That’d be a good idea,” she said, her actions completely betraying her words, since she adjusted herself to roll on top of him, effectively pinning him against the bedsheets. “After all, I wouldn’t want to make things awkward between us.”
He gripped her arms. “That’s a good idea,” he agreed. Though somewhere in his mind, he didn’t. He wanted to be more than just a distraction. “This isn’t.”
“Perhaps not.”
All his good, noble intentions seemed to get knocked out of the window again the moment she leaned forward for another kiss. His body reacted accordingly, and they drowned in each other again. And again.
About the fourth session later, they finally parted, gasping and shaking from exertion, and Albert mumbled something about taking a shower. He braced his hands against the tiled wall for a few moments, letting cold water wash down his skin, before leaving the shower for her and giving himself a glass of water, because he felt the slight press of dehydration in his skull. When she came out of the shower as well, he offered her a drink, which she accepted with a wan smile.
“Sorry,” she said, sprawling out in a chair, her damp hair a glorious mess. Already he felt a need to kiss those perfectly kissable lips again. “I might have gotten carried away.” She stretched, and he heard something crack in her spine.
“Just a little, Miss Grieves.” He raised his glass to her. “But like you said, it was just a distraction, correct?” Multiple distractions, he thought with a small sense of pride. She must have enjoyed being with him to come back for more. He’d used a few tricks in his book, knowing that women didn’t employ the exact same methods of stimulation a guy provided when it came to sex. Just the sight of a woman for him was enough at times to get the engine going, but for a woman, they liked the feeling of being consumed, of the focus on themselves. They liked the tease and suggestion of what might happen, the words whispered in an ear, the breath that tickled delicate skin…
He didn’t expect to be quite as taken with her as she was with him, however.
“Yeah. A distraction. Though...” Now she blushed, and he arched an eyebrow, intrigued.
“Hmm?”
His stare seemed to trigger her flush further, and she made an awkward throat-clearing sound before saying, “It was… honestly the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.”
“You have been missing out, then, haven’t you?” he replied, obscenely pleased by her words. Though he did wish she’d cut it out with the distraction talk. He didn’t want it to be only that. “What was this James, then? Some wet rag in bed?”
For a moment, he thought he’d crossed a line, and certainly her expression darkened at his words, but she soon let out a wry grin and shrugged. “It just wasn’t the same. He was good in his own way, and I liked it… we did start off well, after all. But now… now I’m here, it’s like it was missing something. Like maybe I was always missing something.”
Oh wow. That was a little more of a reveal than he expected. He began to fidget, awkwardly, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Is that so?”
“Yeah.” She stared off in a thoughtful trance, before snapping out of it. “I’m sorry if that sounds weird. This isn’t usually something I talk about. It’s always work, my magic, the next case, you know? But you don’t have to worry. I can keep things separated in my head.”
“I’m sure you can, Miss Grieves,” Albert said, still a little dazed from the fact that someone had just told him he was the best sexual experience they’d ever had in their life. He’d been appreciated for a lot of things… but not that. So he couldn’t quite keep control of the warm fuzzy feelings ransacking his insides. “You have nothing to worry about from me, either. I’m happy to be a distraction if it’s needed—as long as it doesn’t mean that the distraction will be dangerous.”
She let out a soft snort, shaking her head. “I’m fine on that front. Screw James, anyway. He can go bore someone else instead.”
He recognized the aggre
ssive front she was putting on as a salve to her own feelings. It was a common human reaction across the world—deal with sadness and pain by finding something to lash out at. Even more distracting than sex could ever be, which was only a temporary merging of bodies and a flash of ultimate pleasure, that always faded within a moment of that peak. Or several peaks, if they decided to extend it for extra rounds.
They got dressed, and decided just to cuddle, nothing else. It was nice to relax and bask in each other’s warmth and scents instead. He liked the way her hair tickled against his lips and nose, and the way his arms wrapped perfectly around her body, converting him into a comfortable sort of chair.
This is just something temporary, and necessary, he told himself. Closeness was what the detective needed. So closeness was what she got.
As for what he needed… he didn’t really know. He didn’t really have any future plans beyond committing to his work and perhaps asking one of the necromancers one day to check if his father still happened to be around. But that… that wasn’t a driving, consuming goal. The one thing that drove him before everything else was that desire to never let it happen again. To never let someone who only intended to do good die because of other people’s ignorance. His particular choice had been focused on necromancers.
There was a worse way to live a life, he supposed.
“I wish life could be more simple,” she said with a wistful expression upon her features. “That we could remain in this little bubble forever. No food, drink, moving… anything.”
“That’d be nice… but I’m afraid we might get rather bored, Miss Grieves,” Albert said gently, though his heart floated at the notion as well. Yes… there were worse ways to spend time. “Though not of you, of course.”