Devon Monk - Magic on the Storm

Was it wrong for me to love, just a little, that I could do that to him?

His eyes shifted back and forth between mine.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Light-headed. What exactly happened?”

“We made love.”

I frowned. “I know that.” Eloquent. My middle name.

“Soul Complements,” he said, as if that covered the rest of what I should know.

He stepped out of the shower and I stepped out with him, unthinkingly needing to stay in contact with him, to move in tandem with him, to be no more than inches apart from him.

He handed me a towel. “We fell. . fell too far into each other. Magic drew us in, and we didn’t let go.”

I took the towel and stayed where I was while he purposefully took two steps away. The need to follow him and limit the distance between us was still there, but it was fading. I dried myself off in silence.

He rubbed the towel over his hair, and mopped off, the towel wadded in his hand. He shook the towel out, and wrapped it around his waist.

“What did we do wrong?” I asked.

“We lost control.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I said.

“Too far, too long, and we won’t want to be who we are without also being the other person.” He said it without emotion, as if he were reciting a textbook. “We’ll lose ourselves. Lose what we are as individuals. That’s a problem.”

He was right. I wanted that closeness, that awareness of every inch of him. Wanted him, wanted us, bound together, burned, melded by magic. There was a power in it. I could sense it, could almost taste it. A power I’d never felt before.

And knowing I could never have it again, that we should never have it again, made me hollow and empty, even though he was only a few steps away, and closer to me than any man in my life.

“You don’t think this will happen every time, do you?” I asked.

“Every time we have sex, or every time we take a shower?” He smiled.

I knew he was trying to change the mood, push away the seriousness of what had just happened, of how bad it could have been. I tried to follow his lead, to let go of the fear.

“I don’t think the shower had anything to do with it,” I said. Yes, I sucked at letting go of fear.

Zay shrugged one shoulder. “I wouldn’t say it was entirely innocent. All that warm, wet water touching us everywhere. And the soap definitely had ulterior motives.”

I wrapped the towel around me, tucking it tight at the top. “That career in comedy? Walk away now, Jones.”

“And give up on my dreams?” He gave me a grin, and carefully avoided touching me while he picked up his jeans and shoes and carried them into the bedroom.

I rubbed my hands over my arms, needing contact, needing his touch, but firmly staying right where I was. Zay could make jokes. I’d just do what I always did-endure.

Zay had been staying with me enough lately that he had a spare change of clothes and a dresser drawer of his own.

“I’ve always thought if the magic thing didn’t work out,” he called from the bedroom, “I could give comedy a try.”

Comedy. Right. The last thing Zay had on his mind was a career in stand-up. “I thought you had the whole ice-polo thing to fall back on.” I dug in the drawer beneath the sink and pulled out my brush.

I could do this. I could be just me. See me being just me? I was hella good at it.

“I like to keep my options open,” he said. “You know how the girls love an athlete with a good sense of humor.”

I left the brush on the sink and put on the void stone necklace again. Magic settled in me, taking the edge off my discomfort. I walked into my bedroom. Zay had already put on his boxers and jeans. He was half bent, digging through the laundry basket for a T-shirt.

I was done pretending. “So this magic and Soul Complement thing. You think we’ll be okay?” I asked.

He stood, the T-shirt in his hand. “I have never once doubted us. Not once.”

I walked over to him. He had slipped back into expressionless Zay, Zen Zay. He wasn’t giving off much in the way of body language except for patience, and I was trying my best not to listen in to his emotions. “Not even when you wrote me that Dear John note?”

He grimaced. “That was me doubting myself. Doubting if I could keep you safe.”

“How about if you let me keep me safe?” I gingerly placed my fingertips over his heart, felt the soft rhythm there, felt the rise and fall of his chest. But nothing more. No emotions, no thoughts.

“Are you blocking your thoughts and feelings?” I asked.

“Just trying not to project. You?”

I shook my head. “So this is okay?” I dragged my hand down and around his rib cage, my fingers sliding along the waistband of his pants. I wrapped my arm around his back, leaned into him. Still had my towel on too. Go, me.

I felt the tension drain out of him as he exhaled. “This is very okay.” He put his arms around me, pulled me close.

I tucked my head, resting it against his smooth, hard chest. He tipped his head down, not far, and kissed my hair. “Good?” he asked.

I nodded, and rubbed my hand down his spine, massaging the muscles of his wide back as I went, until I finally slid my fingers into the back pocket of his jeans, to keep my hands off any other tempting part of him.

He smiled. My hair caught in the stubble along his jaw.

“Very nice,” I mumbled.

I stood there and savored the sound of his heartbeat, of his breathing. Stood there longer than I should have, and still didn’t want to part. But I didn’t feel trapped with him, and didn’t feel apart from him. I felt like I belonged here. Felt like I was home.

I yawned, and finally pulled away. I didn’t know if it was the whole magic thing, or just the long day, but I was tired. “I need a short nap before the meeting.” I tugged off my towel and let it drop to the floor as I walked over to the bed.

Zayvion inhaled behind me. Oh, right. Naked me, plus half-naked him, plus bed equaled one thing.

I looked over my shoulder.

From the fire in his gaze, I knew exactly what he was thinking.

“A nap,” I repeated, crawling under the covers quick. “I’m tired. You should be tired too.”

Zayvion stalked over to the bed. “Maybe I’ll make it worth your while to stay awake.”

“No. No way. You said we should be careful, remember? You said we might get too close and mixed-up and stuff, remember? Sleep, Jones. Sleep is good.”

He grabbed a fistful of my comforter and tugged. “Promise I’ll be good.”

“Zay. .”

“Or, if you’d rather, I’ll be bad. Either way works for me.” He tugged a little harder on the blanket, exposing my shoulders and chest. I was losing ground quickly. I scooted down the bed a little and tugged back.

“Here’s an idea,” I said, shifting tactics. “Why don’t you take a nap with me? Nice warm blankets. Nice soft pillow. We could get some sleep. Rest up before the big storm meeting tonight. .”

His smile faded and all the sexy on-the-prowl was gone. I shouldn’t have brought up the meeting, shouldn’t have let the real world back into this small moment we were sharing.

“I’m sorry-”

“No, you’re right.”

He let go of the comforter and rubbed at the back of his neck. A sound of something falling in the living room made us both glance out into the hall. It was just Stone stacking the alphabet blocks I’d bought him. I knew Stone wasn’t a child, but I was tired of coming home to find all the cups dragged out of my kitchen and stacked in precarious pyramids in the living room. Plus he liked the blocks enough I’d bought him three sets of the things.

They kept him busy.

Stone usually stayed in the apartment during the day. But at night, he came and went as he pleased-opposable thumbs meant doors and windows were not a problem for him. I didn’t know what magical statuary did at night, but since I hadn’t heard of any gargoyle sightings in the news, whatever it was he did, the big lug was discreet about it.