You Slay Me
Page 58
"That's the idea."
A couple of tourists wandered in as I was in the process of dragging Jim up the grips. It couldn't make it on its own, and after I summarily refused its request to carry it up, I ended up more or less giving it a piggyback ride as I dragged us up the vertical path. What the tourists thought, I can only imagine, but I sure hope the little girl with the camera sends me a copy of the picture she took just before I shoved the manhole cover aside and exhaustedly crawled onto the still sun-warmed pavement of Avenue Bosquet.
"Remind me," I said as I heaved my body out of the path of an oncoming car. I kicked the manhole cover back into place and collapsed on the ground between two parked cars, Jim sitting on the sidewalk watching me as I doubled over, gasping for air, completely mindless of the stares I was receiving from people walking by. "Remind me about this evening if I ever again get the bright idea to go visit a wyvern in his den."
"Do you think you're likely to be that stupid?" Jim asked, sotto voce.
I slumped back against the bumper of the car behind me, my eyes closed, too wiped out to move. "You never know, Jim. You just never know."
15
The unsettling realization that I had no idea how much of my thoughts Fiat had read before I erected mind barri-ers kept me on tenterhooks until the taxi I'd hailed dropped us off at Ophelia and Perdita's apartment. I wasn't sure if Fiat had been able to tell who was offering me shelter, but I hadn't thought he had—at least, I hoped he hadn't. And since no one was waiting for me outside the door or inside the apartment, I tucked the keys Ophe-lia had given me into my bag and slunk off to the tiled bathroom to wash off the stench of the sewers.
It was shortly after nine when I emerged from the bathroom in a plume of jasmine-scented steam, sore and scraped from crawling in the well, not to mention drag-ging a huge demon-in-a-Newfoundland-suit up the side of a wall. But at least I was clean.
I left Ophelia and Perdita a note explaining that I was too tired to make an appearance at G & T that night, and after taking Jim for his evening walkies in a nearby park, crawled into bed and slipped almost immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.
At least it started out dreamless.
"I amso not doing this," I said as I walked into a pool of light. I had no idea where I was other than there was the faintest sense of a tall, arched ceiling above me and a long narrow space that resembled the inside of a Gothic cathedral, but I knew Drake was somewhere in the shad-ows. I spun around, suddenly aware that I wasn't in the cream-and-lace nightie he had dreamed me into for the last two dreams. This time I was wearing a very tight red-and-black flamenco dress, complete with ruffled sleeves, low-cut bodice exposing a fair portion of my bosom and all of my back, and a slinky, hip-hugging skirt that clung to my thighs before flaring out to open into black and red ruffles. It was a very sexy dress, much more daring and seductive than anything I'd ever worn.
The tango music seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere as Drake sauntered out into the circle of light, clad almost completely in black. The light source above us shown down on his black satin shirt, turning it to liquid ebony as it rippled across his chest and arms. He stopped and held out his hand for me. Without thinking, I did a twirl toward him, clasping his hand and continu-ing to turn until I was flush against him, our hands locked together in the small of my back, the bloodred sash at his waist matching my dress exactly.
"I don't tango," I said, breathless as I always was in his presence.
"Now you do." His voice, deep and rich and filled with all sorts of erotic unspoken promises, stroked down my spine with a touch that left me shivering . .. but whether it was with fear or arousal, I was unwilling to admit.
I twirled away, Drake following me, our bodies com-ing together in a sensual dance that had no choreography other than the need to be near each another. The tango music demanded, we danced; his body asked, mine answered, my legs moving in and out and around his, my foot sliding slowly up his calf in a caress that almost did me in. We moved together, sweeping a sultry, sensual line down the pool of light, my skirt caressing his legs as we danced without words, without even touching, just a breath apart and yet bound tighter by our mutual passion than mere contact alone could promise. I swung around him to the left, he spun to the right, our bodies meeting again, moving off in another direction as the pulse of the music drove us harder. My eyes never left his guttering green gaze as his hands slid around my waist, holding me suspended in a moment so filled with tangled emotions that I couldn't speak; then it passed and we swayed into another sweeping pass through the pool of light, our hearts beating an identical rhythm.
"Why did you leave me?" Drake asked as he bent me backwards over his arm, his face shadowed. "Why did you run from me?"
I slid down his thigh, swung my leg through his, and did an amazing little turn that rubbed most of my back against his. He caught my arm, spinning me until my vi-sion blurred, slowing me to stop with my back pressed against his chest, his fingers digging into my hips as he directed us in another pass through the light. "You know the answer to that, Drake. I don't have to defend my ac-tions to you."
His breath was hot on my neck. Oddly enough, during the whole of our dance, I hadn't felt even a wisp of his fire, but suddenly it consumed me, raging through me until I realized that what I felt wasn't his desire, but his anger. I spun to face him, rubbing my breasts against his satin chest as we danced a line of intricate footwork that would have, had it been real, probably left me with at least one broken ankle.
"I don't understand you. I've tried, but it's impossible. I don't know what you want from me."
He spun me outward. I twirled back to him, wrapping his arm around my waist as I turned. "Would the safety of the mortal world be too much to ask?"
His fire raged through me, setting my soul ablaze. I embraced it, opening my arms to let the fire flow back to him.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Aisling, but whatever game you're playing is a dangerous one. Who is protecting you?"
I smiled as I did a provocative step around his body, the fingers of one hand trailing just above the slash of red at his waist as I circled him. "I don't have to tell you any-thing. We may have some strange metaphysical tie, and we might have had indulged ourselves in the last dream, but that doesn't mean we are meant to be together, nor do I have to listen to anything you say."
A couple of tourists wandered in as I was in the process of dragging Jim up the grips. It couldn't make it on its own, and after I summarily refused its request to carry it up, I ended up more or less giving it a piggyback ride as I dragged us up the vertical path. What the tourists thought, I can only imagine, but I sure hope the little girl with the camera sends me a copy of the picture she took just before I shoved the manhole cover aside and exhaustedly crawled onto the still sun-warmed pavement of Avenue Bosquet.
"Remind me," I said as I heaved my body out of the path of an oncoming car. I kicked the manhole cover back into place and collapsed on the ground between two parked cars, Jim sitting on the sidewalk watching me as I doubled over, gasping for air, completely mindless of the stares I was receiving from people walking by. "Remind me about this evening if I ever again get the bright idea to go visit a wyvern in his den."
"Do you think you're likely to be that stupid?" Jim asked, sotto voce.
I slumped back against the bumper of the car behind me, my eyes closed, too wiped out to move. "You never know, Jim. You just never know."
15
The unsettling realization that I had no idea how much of my thoughts Fiat had read before I erected mind barri-ers kept me on tenterhooks until the taxi I'd hailed dropped us off at Ophelia and Perdita's apartment. I wasn't sure if Fiat had been able to tell who was offering me shelter, but I hadn't thought he had—at least, I hoped he hadn't. And since no one was waiting for me outside the door or inside the apartment, I tucked the keys Ophe-lia had given me into my bag and slunk off to the tiled bathroom to wash off the stench of the sewers.
It was shortly after nine when I emerged from the bathroom in a plume of jasmine-scented steam, sore and scraped from crawling in the well, not to mention drag-ging a huge demon-in-a-Newfoundland-suit up the side of a wall. But at least I was clean.
I left Ophelia and Perdita a note explaining that I was too tired to make an appearance at G & T that night, and after taking Jim for his evening walkies in a nearby park, crawled into bed and slipped almost immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.
At least it started out dreamless.
"I amso not doing this," I said as I walked into a pool of light. I had no idea where I was other than there was the faintest sense of a tall, arched ceiling above me and a long narrow space that resembled the inside of a Gothic cathedral, but I knew Drake was somewhere in the shad-ows. I spun around, suddenly aware that I wasn't in the cream-and-lace nightie he had dreamed me into for the last two dreams. This time I was wearing a very tight red-and-black flamenco dress, complete with ruffled sleeves, low-cut bodice exposing a fair portion of my bosom and all of my back, and a slinky, hip-hugging skirt that clung to my thighs before flaring out to open into black and red ruffles. It was a very sexy dress, much more daring and seductive than anything I'd ever worn.
The tango music seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere as Drake sauntered out into the circle of light, clad almost completely in black. The light source above us shown down on his black satin shirt, turning it to liquid ebony as it rippled across his chest and arms. He stopped and held out his hand for me. Without thinking, I did a twirl toward him, clasping his hand and continu-ing to turn until I was flush against him, our hands locked together in the small of my back, the bloodred sash at his waist matching my dress exactly.
"I don't tango," I said, breathless as I always was in his presence.
"Now you do." His voice, deep and rich and filled with all sorts of erotic unspoken promises, stroked down my spine with a touch that left me shivering . .. but whether it was with fear or arousal, I was unwilling to admit.
I twirled away, Drake following me, our bodies com-ing together in a sensual dance that had no choreography other than the need to be near each another. The tango music demanded, we danced; his body asked, mine answered, my legs moving in and out and around his, my foot sliding slowly up his calf in a caress that almost did me in. We moved together, sweeping a sultry, sensual line down the pool of light, my skirt caressing his legs as we danced without words, without even touching, just a breath apart and yet bound tighter by our mutual passion than mere contact alone could promise. I swung around him to the left, he spun to the right, our bodies meeting again, moving off in another direction as the pulse of the music drove us harder. My eyes never left his guttering green gaze as his hands slid around my waist, holding me suspended in a moment so filled with tangled emotions that I couldn't speak; then it passed and we swayed into another sweeping pass through the pool of light, our hearts beating an identical rhythm.
"Why did you leave me?" Drake asked as he bent me backwards over his arm, his face shadowed. "Why did you run from me?"
I slid down his thigh, swung my leg through his, and did an amazing little turn that rubbed most of my back against his. He caught my arm, spinning me until my vi-sion blurred, slowing me to stop with my back pressed against his chest, his fingers digging into my hips as he directed us in another pass through the light. "You know the answer to that, Drake. I don't have to defend my ac-tions to you."
His breath was hot on my neck. Oddly enough, during the whole of our dance, I hadn't felt even a wisp of his fire, but suddenly it consumed me, raging through me until I realized that what I felt wasn't his desire, but his anger. I spun to face him, rubbing my breasts against his satin chest as we danced a line of intricate footwork that would have, had it been real, probably left me with at least one broken ankle.
"I don't understand you. I've tried, but it's impossible. I don't know what you want from me."
He spun me outward. I twirled back to him, wrapping his arm around my waist as I turned. "Would the safety of the mortal world be too much to ask?"
His fire raged through me, setting my soul ablaze. I embraced it, opening my arms to let the fire flow back to him.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Aisling, but whatever game you're playing is a dangerous one. Who is protecting you?"
I smiled as I did a provocative step around his body, the fingers of one hand trailing just above the slash of red at his waist as I circled him. "I don't have to tell you any-thing. We may have some strange metaphysical tie, and we might have had indulged ourselves in the last dream, but that doesn't mean we are meant to be together, nor do I have to listen to anything you say."
