Sweet as Sin (16 page)

With a towel around his hips, he treaded softly into the bedroom. Livvy hadn’t moved. He

considered pulling on boxers or sweats but it seemed ridiculous now. Naked, he slid beneath the sheet. Livvy sighed and rolled into him.

Propped on one arm, he stared down into her face and searched for what made her different.

He’d had innumerable beautiful women in his life. He’d long ago stopped counting. Livvy 172

Sweet as Sin

wasn’t the prettiest or the bustiest or the most alluring. What made her so different? Why did she tempt him to dream?

The question bounced in his head and he

wrapped his arm around her waist. She shifted, snuggled back and murmured a sleepy sound. His body froze. Livvy wasn’t wearing panties. His cock pressed against her firm bare ass and his libido sat up, looking around. John buried his head in her hair. It was going to be a long night.

“You’ll like Windago. It’s always spring

there,” Jondi said.

Thorn sucked his teeth in annoyance,

bringing another bout of coughing that

peppered the night.

Vory fed a small bit of kindling to the

fire and curled her arms around her knees.

“I can’t wait. It sounds so peaceful there.”

Irritation exploded as Thorn shot straight up into the tree without warning. He hung high above their heads, wings wrapped tight to his body.

Vory watched him and shook her head.

“He really doesn’t like me.”

“He’s just not feeling himself. You’ll see, he’ll come around.” Jondi said the words

more to convince himself than Vory but she smiled anyway. The fire danced in the small Inez Kelley

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breeze and he settled to rest beside her, tennis shoes stretched out wide. The only sound was the snap of the flames and Thorn sucking his teeth high in the air, so when she spoke, it startled him.

“Thank you for helping me. You could

have left me alone like Thorn wanted, but you didn’t. Standing up to your best friend isn’t easy, I suppose. I’ve never had anyone do that for me.”

“Thorn’s wrong. He’ll see that. I wanted

to help you. There is something about you that makes me feel good, like we were

meant to be friends. I couldn’t leave you behind, no matter what. Besides, you’re

coughing too. I want to help take care of you. Andros will know what to do.”

Rosy lips tilted with her shy smile. His

eyes trained on her mouth, Jondi didn’t see her hand move. But he felt it touch his and he swallowed. She had a magic in her, a

magic that called to him. Just like with

Thorn, he knew his destiny involved Vory.

He just didn’t know how.

Even as she started to cough, Jondi

turned his palm so it cradled Vory’s. He

held it while her cough grew.

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Thunder woke Livvy from lush, erotic dreams.

Arms shaking in a wide stretch, she turned to the right side of the bed but John was gone. The raging storm colored the morning in gloomy drear but her mood was sunny. Brushing her hand over the dip in his pillow, a soft wonder filled her chest.

Magic born of more than lust had fizzed between them last night. Her heart tripled in speed and she sighed. Did she dare give her feelings a name?

She relaxed into the pillows and caressed her memories. A warm heaviness grew between her thighs and she groaned. She was turning into some sort of lust-starved nymphomaniac or something. She shoved back the comforter and made a quick trip to the bathroom. Her reflection earned a grimace. A curly-haired woman should never ever go to bed with wet hair unless she enjoyed waking up resembling some strange tropical fish. She worked her fingers through the flattened tangles before washing her face.

Folded atop the vanity was her now freshly washed clothing but most of it was a dry-clean-only mess. The skirt was a loss, the blouse a joke of wrinkled linen, and she had no desire to put the bra back on. Instead, she opted for the now-clean panties and a pair of John’s boxers used as shorts.

Not fashion-model perfect, but her ass wasn’t hanging out. Good enough for her.

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The fast
tappitytap
of the keyboard led her to the study door. Seated in his usual spot, glasses hiding his eyes, John didn’t acknowledge her presence. For one long minute, she watched him.

How could this man, this teller of children’s tales, make her feel so wantonly adult?

Her feet made no sound as she turned away but his voice halted her.

“Hey, you’re awake.” He looked up and smiled.

Her heart leaped two feet out of her chest.

“Have you been up long?”

“I don’t know, a couple hours, I guess. Wanted to get some ideas down.”

Silence descended and brought its brother Awkward along.
Not quite lovers, and yet not
quite not. Now there’s a tongue twister for you.

She stared at him, shifting from one foot to the other, fanny chilling in the air. He stared at her, fingers skimming repetitively over the enter key.

How do you handle the morning after the night before that didn’t quite happen?

The chair rolled back from the desk and in a few steps he stood in front of her. One large warm hand slid around her neck, sending goose bumps along her skin.

“Cold? I’ll turn the air down.” His hands stroked her cool arms with a tender friction. “I just started coffee, so maybe that will warm you up some. Come on.”

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She followed him to the kitchen where the rich scent of French Roast hung heavy. Through two cups, a scramble of eggs and the pop of the toaster, John teased her about wearing his underwear but it didn’t stop his eyes from landing on her exposed thighs when he thought she didn’t see.

They shed the awkwardness of things not

completed and found their normal bantering rhythm. Although he said he had to work, Livvy chose to stay, camped out in his office and read, needing to be close to him.

Quiet comfort surrounded her for hours as she relaxed with him. Snuggled under a fleece blanket in the ragged armchair wedged beside his weight bench, she watched John type while alternately rereading his copy of
Book One: The Crystal Tear.

Outside, the storm swirled, pelting the windows with gusts of sheeting rain. Inside, Livvy luxuriated in time spent just watching, just drinking in, just being with him.

She wasn’t quite sure exactly when it had happened, but she’d fallen teacups over keister in love with John Murphy.

He’d put his contacts in while she’d made coffee and now sat frowning at the monitor. Livvy wondered if he knew exactly how much of

himself and his life he’d written in those pages.

Thorn, with his sarcastic wit and dark, menacing looks, Jondi, with his gentle heart and unwavering Inez Kelley

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belief in good, both were sides of this man she loved. The constant theme between the two was loyalty. They could never be parted because, in real life, they were the same man.

The character of Andros intrigued her. The big soft-spoken magician with flowing white fur and quiet assurance of the path best chosen sounded almost motherly, although John had written the role as a male. Was it memories of his mother or a maturity of life that gave tone to the wise old monster? Was it the voice of the author trying to lead the monsters to the story’s end? Chin buried in her arms, arms on her covered knees, she studied John as his eyes flicked over the typeface.

The villain, the evil Nordrake, she assumed was cast in the mold of Alan Warner. Nordrake spit venom from a forked tongue when he spoke, his angry red face scratched raw in places by an itch he would never fully resolve. His usurping of the throne decades ago should have made him content, cured his quest for power. Instead, he lusted for blood, the end of the Royal Latona line.

He hungered for Jondi’s death. Remembering some of the vile curses Nordrake spoke, Livvy shivered. No child should ever hear such hatred spill from the mouth of a parent, not even a substitute parent.

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“Damn it!” His mutter jerked her out of her thoughts. John flipped the monitor off with a sharp jab and thrust himself back in the chair.

“Problems?”

He glanced over at her and shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just not sure where they’re going with this. Being that I write the damn thing, you’d think they would let me know what they’re doing.”

The blanket hit the ground soundlessly as Livvy rose and walked to his chair. “Let me see.”

She reached down and flicked the monitor back on.

He flipped it back off quickly with a firm chuckle. “Oh, no. No one reads anything until it’s ready for submission. This is all just bones anyway, no real flesh until I get it lined out.”

Livvy arched her brow, leaned over and tried to turn the screen on again. He caught her hand and pulled her to his lap. His rough jeans highlighted her bare legs, making her aware of just how little she wore.

“I said no, Livvy. It’s not ready for anyone but me.”

“One page.” She held up one finger. “Come on, Murphy. I won’t tell anyone. Let me take a peek.”

His gaze lost its shine, as if he was looking inside for a long time before he glanced at her.

That lopsided grin she loved peeked out. “I can’t Inez Kelley

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believe I’m doing this. I don’t share my monsters, Livvy. Not at this point, anyway, but…one page, all right?”

He leaned forward to turn on the monitor and her heart softened. He was trusting her more than he had anyone before. The screen popped to life and she scoured the typeface.

The cough left her gasping, her vivid lilac eyes streaming sparkling tears. Weak and

shaky, she lay back against the cool ground, struggling to breathe. “Jondi, maybe

Thorn’s right. Maybe you should just go

home. I’m getting sicker every minute and you… Maybe you should just leave me

here.”

“No.” The command in his voice

surprised Jondi but it felt right. He didn’t fight it, embracing the determination that swept through him. “Can’t you feel it, Vory?

You, me, Thorn, we’re all tied together.”

“I feel it,” she whispered.

Jondi thought she fell asleep. The only

sound was her ragged breath, the night

insects clamoring in the dark, and the

wind’s brush against Thorn’s wings. The

pale purple of her ponytails fanned around her head and he touched one. It was soft, silky, like the underside of a flower petal. It 180

Sweet as Sin

tickled, sliding through the fur on his hand, and he smiled.

Her murmur barely broke the night. “One

day, you’ll be sorry you met me, Jondi. I feel that, too.”

He felt it too but didn’t know what it

meant. He rolled onto his side and watched her dream. Sleep would not come to him.

“Vory?”

He sighed before clicking the monitor off.

“New character. She’s… Jondi has a crush.”

“You sound like this is all really happening, Murphy, instead of something you think up.”

Livvy relaxed back against his chest and he tightened the arm around her.

“They’re my words but it’s their story. They belong to me. Or maybe I belong to them, I don’t know. Each one has a little piece of me in them somewhere.”

Livvy turned her attention to the objects scattered on his desk. She reached out to touch a crystal ball. Baseball-sized, the black glass had a fiery plume of orange blown into the center. Tiny air bubbles trapped inside gave the impression of movement.

“Is this Jondi’s Orb? From the second book?”

John smiled and picked up the small object. He placed it in her hand casually. “Well, it was the Inez Kelley

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inspiration for it, anyway. It’s just a paperweight but it spoke and I listened. I have something for each segment of the story.”

“Show me.”
Share with me, let me in.
Her breathless whisper drew his gaze to her face.

Something tender darted across his eyes. His hand fell and opened a deep drawer to his right. She leaned over and stared inside. Nothing of any value, the entire collection might have cost ten dollars, but the immense wealth of creativity they inspired made them precious. He pulled each one out.

“The Crystal Tear actually came from an old civil war homestead I worked on. My crew was demoing the ballroom area and this just caught my eye. Despite everything falling down around it, this piece of cut glass from an old waxy

chandelier stayed beautiful. So I pocketed it and kept on ripping out floorboards. I didn’t know why at the time but it had a story for me.”

He laid the prismed glass aside and took the paperweight from her hands. “Gina gave me this for my birthday. I used to keep a fan blowing in the kitchen where I wrote in our first apartment. It would ruffle whatever papers I had scattered around. She liked the colors, simple as that. She was maybe fourteen, I guess. But she bought it with babysitting money that she’d earned.”

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The glassy orb joined the tear before he

brought out a small bucket. It was cheaply made, but he held it as if it were made of gold. Deeper, with a touch of anger, his voice conflicted the gentleness of his hands.

“
Book Three: The Brotherhood Well.
The first job I had as a teenager was picking apples. It’s damn hard work but the apples are so tart your lips tingle with the bite. I got paid for the strength in my back and it got me out of Alan’s house, so to me it was like paradise. The gift shop sold these buckets with apple bread in them. I ate one every day and dreamed of never going home.”

The mention of Alan made her heart stutter and she took the bucket from John, holding it to her breast as she longed to hold the child he had been.

The wooden pail seemed to hold all his adolescent longings, longings that had never come to be.

He reached deep into the drawer and pulled out a punched-tin oak leaf, handing it to her. The pointed, jagged leaf in a deep burnished copper weighed next to nothing yet was rigid and sharp.