S. Harper - Cursed

“Do you think our version of what happened is going to hold?” I ask after a moment.

“Yes.”

I give his arm a playful swat. “You spin a pretty convincing tale.”

He shrugs. “Well, Amy’s home, so that case is closed. And we just handed Garner the evidence to close the case that everyone will be talking about tomorrow. We stick to the story. Mager will go down and pay for the crimes he’s committed.” He gives me a sideways glance. “How are you at lying?”

I grin. “I’m betting not as good as you!”

“We’ll practice.”

Then another troublesome thought occurs to me. I’ve seen thrall wear off on occasion. “What happens if Alan starts to remember what really happened? It’s going to be a shock when his mother’s body is discovered in that burned-out clinic and the story hits the papers. How do you think Kallistos will react then? I want to believe that Alan’s safe and that no more humans will be hurt. I want to believe it’s over, but maybe it’s not.”

Zack squeezes my shoulders. “You’re worrying too much. Kallistos is ancient. He’s a king. His thrall will hold.”

“Maybe he had one of his henchmen do it.”

Zack shakes his head. “A vampire as old as he is has to be an expert at tying off loose ends. He left the note for you in Alan’s office, so we know he was there. No. He wouldn’t have left the task to anyone else. He knows Alan poses a threat. He would have tied off that loose end himself, too.”

I feel a shudder pass through my body. Zack has nailed it. That’s what Alan would be to Kallistos, nothing but a loose end.

Zack feels the tremor. “There’s something else on your mind. What is it?”

I hesitate a moment before answering, “I’m thinking about how all this will affect the organ recipients on Pierce’s log. Do you think they’ll escape prosecution?”

“Don’t know,” Zack replies with a shrug. “My guess is they’ll cooperate. Mager will go down. He’s a three-time loser. One more conviction and he’ll be put away for life.”

I let my head rest on Zack’s shoulder as we walk. “I hope so. I’d hate to see someone in Michael’s situation dragged through the media and punished. If we’d arrive just a few hours later, his name would have been on that list.”

I think of all the people—friends—I lost before organ transplants were available. I shake my head. “It’s not so black-and-white to me. If you were dying, or a friend was dying, and someone came to you with the way to save him, wouldn’t you take it? Regardless of whether it was breaking the law?”

Zack’s arm tightens around my shoulder. “I don’t know. But I have a feeling I know what your answer would be.”

To my relief, his tone is neither judgmental nor condescending.

He stops and draws me into his arms. “Let’s stop talking about work and start thinking about something much more pleasant.”

I smile up at him. “And what would that be?”

He’s leaning down, his lips now a whisper away. “This.”

And then we’re kissing and all misgivings about Kallistos and Alan and Sarah and the complications of the case are chased from my mind. Right now there’s only Zack.

Our case is closed. And for the moment, being in his arms feels wonderful. I try to focus on the sensation and block out everything else.

Tomorrow will be a new day. With it will come a new case.

But I don’t want to think about what’s to come tomorrow. I’m tired of sacrificing my present because of my past.

Right now I just want to live. And I can. At least for one night.

Tonight will be about Zack and me.

Tomorrow will come soon enough.

I really need to have a talk with Zack about leaving his door unlocked. Maybe it’s still safe to do on the beach in South Carolina. It most definitely isn’t in San Diego. Especially with Stalker Sarah around. I close and lock the door before setting the brown paper bag filled to the brim with cartons of Thai food on his countertop.

After our short walk on the beach, I was starving. Zack, however, was a ball of pent-up energy. So I suggested he go for a run while I foraged for food. The ease with which the domestic simplicity of our arrangement fell into place is bittersweet. I know our arrangement is neither simple nor secure. While I should be thinking with my head, the heart wants what the heart wants. And I’m tired of being denied. So very tired.

My cell phone chimes. There’s a new text message from an unknown number: Dinner tonight? K.

K? Kallistos? How the hell did he get my number?

Of course, Liz.

The shower is running overhead. My eyes drift to the ceiling.

The phone chimes again. Another message: I’ll make it worth your while.

This has to be Liz’s doing. Probably with the best of intentions. I know what I might be interrupting, but I dial anyway.

“You gave him my number?”

“Who?” Liz’s breathless voice and a groan from Evan in the background confirm my suspicions.

Too bad. “Kallistos! He’s texting me.”

“That’s why you called me?”

“How could you give him my number?” I ask.

“It was for your own good,” Liz replies. “You know my views on rebound sex. Nothing heals a broken heart faster.”

“My heart is not broken.”

“Yet.”

“Call him off, Liz. I mean it.”

“You’ve met Kallistos. I couldn’t call him off if I wanted to. He gets what he goes after.”

“Not this time.” I disconnect before she has a chance to argue. Immediately my cell phone rings and the call indicator shows it’s Liz. I power off the phone and try to push my anger aside. I understand what Liz is trying to do. But no one ever really knows what the future will hold. This curse may seem eternal, but it’s not. It can’t be. Someday, it will be lifted. Zack and I may not have a promising future. But we are here. This minute. Together.

And right now Zack is still in the shower.

Suddenly I’m no longer feeling hungry. What I’m feeling is very, very dirty.

I pop the cartons of food in a warming oven and race up the stairs to join him.

The bathroom door is cracked open. Steam from the shower billows out into the bedroom, warm, wet, and inviting. The familiar scent of citrus and spice that I’m beginning to associate with Zack hangs in the air. I want to wrap myself in it, drown in it, drown in him. And for the next few hours, I will.

I push the door open with my arm and step inside. He must have heard me coming. He’s waiting for me.

“Took you long enough to get up here.”

He’s inside the shower stall, heat rising around him. His hair is slicked straight back. His hands grip the top of the glass door, making his biceps bulge. He’s hard and ready.

I let my eyes drift over his body, appreciating every spectacular inch. “Been thinking about me?” I ask him.

He glances down at his erection. “Can’t seem to stop.”

“Food’s in the oven,” I tell him, moving closer until only the glass separates us.

“It’s not food I’m hungry for at the moment.”

I see the predator in his eyes. His naked desire sends a chill up my spine.

“I’ve missed you,” he says.

The confession makes me smile. “We practically spent the entire day together.”

“Wearing far too many clothes.”

Before our walk on the beach, I’d stopped by the house to exchange my work clothes for something more comfortable, a white peasant blouse, my most comfortable blue jeans, and a pair of brown leather sandals.

I reach back and pull the band from my hair, letting it fall around my shoulders. “Maybe I should take some of these off?”