“Really? This is almost as bad as when you ask twice. It wasn’t obvious?” And still no shirt. Although if I was a guy with his chest, I guess I wouldn't have been anxious to wear one either.
“He wouldn't have fixed the issue.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because that’s not how Cupid works. There's always a target.”
I wasn't going to argue. I knew he was right. I felt it standing next to him. It was a fight to just keep my hands to myself.
“He might have taken the edge off, though.” I dry swallowed as he got closer and closer to me.
“If you’re going to do something about it, at least do it with the person it was meant for.”
His arm wrapped around my waist and lifted me to the counter. He stepped in between my thighs and the long t-shirt I'd worn to bed hitched up in the process.
“When Cupid plays his games, there’s always an intended target.” His eyes were on my mouth as he spoke, and then his lips grazed mine as he said his last words. “You weren’t intended for Lars.”
He might have acted disinterested before, but with his hips pressed to mine, I knew this wasn’t just for me. My legs wrapped around him, trying to bring him closer to me. His hands tangled in my hair as his lips covered mine. I felt like I couldn’t’ breathe and I didn’t care.
There was something dangerous about going down this road with Fate. There was no control here, only pure sensation, and intense, soul consuming feeling.
His arm wrapped around my hips and pulled me snug to him. He was carrying me somewhere, but I didn’t care as long as he went with me.
And then I was falling backward and he was following me down. His hard body moved over mine, pressing me into the bed and all I could do was moan with the exquisite feeling. I couldn’t get close enough to him. I wanted to crawl inside of him and the way he gripped me back I knew he was feeling it too.
Nothing registered except need.
What little clothes we had on weren’t even removed but shoved out of the way and then he was pressing into me. It felt like nothing I’d ever experienced before. I didn’t know if this was because of Cupid’s interference, or it would’ve been like this with him anyway.
And then we were both coming and I didn’t want it to stop.
We sagged in exhaustion. I was still in shock over the intensity of what had just happened.
He was still in me, resting his weight on his arms. His lips were tailing along my collarbone when he paused his actions and whispered against my skin.
“You’re still going back, right?”
He didn’t ask in a, I’m hoping you might stay now, he asked in a, you know this changes nothing kind of way.
I closed my eyes trying to keep control. I hadn’t expected anything from him, hadn’t been looking for it, so why did that hurt so badly?
“Of course I am.”
I wanted to pretend he hadn't said anything, but I couldn't. Hyped up on Cupid's stuff or not, my pride was stronger than any love potion.
I stared straight into his eyes. “Get off.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I need to use the bathroom.” I wanted to scream for him to get off me but I wouldn’t. That would let him know he’d gotten to me.
Did I see regret there? It didn't matter. I was too mad to try and find reasons for his actions.
He didn't initially move and I needed to get away from him.
“You’re heavy. Get off me.” I’d loved his weight a few minutes ago. Now I felt suffocated.
He finally gave and I slid out from beneath him in my urgency to get away from him as soon as I had room.
“Where you going?” he asked as I headed toward the door.
“I already told you.”
I swung by the kitchen and found the sleeping pills and then found a spare room to go crash.
Chapter Twenty-Six
When I didn't wake until three in the afternoon I wondered if I'd perhaps taken too many of those pills. After my night, I'd wanted nothing more than to pass out into oblivion.
My muscles ached as I pushed myself up out of the bed. I cringed when I thought about what had happened last night. I'd felt like a cat in heat but it seemed to be gone, now. I'd be having a talk with Cupid just as soon as I ran into him—across a long hallway where I could keep a good twenty feet distance between us. But when I did, he'd be getting a mouthful as long as he didn't try and approach me or get too close. A nasty letter might be better.
I didn't want to think about last night and I knew instinctively there couldn't be a repeat. I didn’t want one. I couldn’t believe I’d been so consumed by him and then all he’d worried about was me hanging around. I dragged myself from the bed in one of his spare rooms when I would’ve rather hidden under the covers all day.
My hand on the doorknob, I hesitated and leaned an ear in. It sounded quiet and it was pretty late. He must have left, not that it mattered or anything. I opened the door and stepped out just like I would have if he'd been home.
I walked into the kitchen and started making coffee when I noticed movement on the deck. Fate, with his feet kicked up on the railing was reading the paper in the afternoon sun. I'd felt a lot braver when I'd thought I was alone. I'd faced down pissed off juries, been one on one with murderers, and that had been easier than walking out there on that deck. But I wasn't a wimp. Never had been and I wasn't going to be cowed by him.
His head turned; he nodded a silent hello and resumed reading. I grabbed some coffee and went out onto the deck like it was just another normal day in Weirdoville.
Except for the whole blood ritual last night and the fact that even now I could see the universe swirling its power through the glass doors.
Oh, forget it. My life was a train wreck. Who was I kidding? Hooking up with some guy was probably the most normal thing I've done in the last couple weeks. I should probably be embracing it.
I balanced my cup and then kicked the door shut with my toe on the edge. Grabbed the seat that wasn't so far away to make it obvious I was trying to keep a distance, but not too close either. Seat choices can get very sticky in these circumstances. I decided to avoid eye contact. If I didn't make eye contact, it would be hard for him to read the awkwardness, embarrassment, rejection and slew of other negative emotions I felt this morning.
I kicked up my feet on the railing and settled part of the paper in front of me as I sipped my coffee.
And then spat it out all over myself as I looked down at the beach and remembered the other important thing that happened last night. Everyone I saw was changed in some way.
They ran the entire gamut. Some of them glowed brilliantly, some had a slight pleasant shimmer. Then there were the duller people who looked like they were in the shade, even under the bright afternoon sun. Some of them looked just dull. Occasionally, they had the same cracks running along their skin like I'd seen on Maxwell. Then, thankfully, some people looked normal. I tried to focus on them.
“I guess you forgot that part of the evening?” Fate asked, his eyebrow slightly raised.
I ignored the insinuation. It didn’t matter; I wasn’t a desperado. Actually, when I thought about it, if it hadn’t been for Cupid, I probably wouldn’t have even done anything. I’d bet it wouldn’t have been very good either. I’d given Fate too much credit. He probably wasn’t even that good without the added Cupid effect.
The packaging was nice and I’d been hopped up on Cupid curses.
“Why did you sleep in the guest room last night?” He was looking down at his paper when he asked.
“You take up too much of the bed and I wanted to spread out for one night.”
I turned back to the people strolling along the beach.
The shadows, the pockets of the universal forces, they were everywhere, kicking up sand in someone's face, to catching a child's kite up into the wind.
“You can't stare like that in public, not around our kind. It's a dead giveaway.”
“I told you I'd be careful and I will be.”
“You'd better be,” he said and laid down his paper, clearly in some sort of snit.
“Where's Lars?” He deserved that, even if I had decided I didn’t care that much.