Ким Харрисон - A Fistful of Charms

I shivered, jerking when a soft brush on my leg made me jump. It was Rex, but I was little more to her than something to brush up against as she headed to the living room, following the sound of Ivy's distress.

"I can't!" Ivy exclaimed, and I jumped. "Piscary…" She took a gasping breath. "Piscary will step in and he'll make me hurt her, maybe kill her."

"That's an excuse," he hammered on her. "The truth is that you're scared."

I stood in the hallway and trembled, feeling the tension rise in the unseen room. But Kisten's voice was gentle now that he'd gotten her to admit her feelings. "You should tell her that," he continued softly.

Ivy sniffed, half in sorrow, half in bitter amusement. "I just did. She's in the hall."

I sucked in my breath and jerked upright.

"Shit," Kisten said, his voice panicked. "Rachel?"

Pulling up my shoulders, I raised my chin and went into the kitchen. Kisten scuffed to a halt in the hall, and tension slammed into me. His lanky build, wide shoulders, and my favorite red silk shirt took up the archway. He had on boots, and they looked good peeping from under his jeans. His bracelet felt heavy on me, and I twisted it, wondering if I should take it off.

"Rachel, I didn't know you were there," he said, his face creased. "I'm sorry. You aren't a toy that I have to ask Ivy's permission to play with."

I kept my back to him, shoulders stiff while I opened the canvas sack and took things out. Leaving the cheese, mushrooms, and the pineapple where they were, I strode to the pantry, hanging my grocery bag up on the hook I'd nailed in yesterday. Images of Ivy's comfortable room, of Kisten's face, his body, the way he felt under my fingers, the way he made me feel, all flashed through me. Pace stilted, I went to the stove and took the lid off the sauce. Steam billowed up, the rising scent of tomato making the wisps of my hair drift. I stirred without seeing as he came up behind me. "Rachel?"

My breath came out, and I held the next one. I was so confused.

Softly—almost not there—Kisten put a hand on my shoulder. Tension slipped from me, and sensing it, he leaned until his body pressed against my back. His arms went around me, imprisoning me, and my motions to stir the pot stilled. "She knew the moment I came in," I said.

"Probably," he whispered into my ear.

I wondered where Ivy was—if she had stayed in the living room or fled the church entirely, shamed that she had needs and fears like the rest of us. Kisten took the spoon from me, setting it between the burners before turning me around. I pulled my eyes to his, not surprised to see them narrow with concern. The glow from the overhead light shimmered on his day-old stubble, and I touched it because I could. His arms were about my waist, and he gave a tug, settling me closer into him. "What she can't say to your face, she'll say when she knows you're listening," he said. "It's a bad habit she picked up in therapy."

I had already figured that one out, and bobbed my head. "This is a mess," I said, miserable as I looked over his shoulder to the dark hallway. "I never should have—"

My words cut off when Kisten pulled me closer. Arms about his waist and my head against his chest, I breathed deeply the scent of leather and silk, relaxing into him. "Yes," he whispered. "You should have." He pushed me back until I could see his eyes. "I won't ask," he said earnestly. "If it happens, it happens. I like things the way they are." His expression grew sly. "I'd like it better if things changed, but when change is too quick, the strong break."

My eyes on the archway, I stood and held him, not wanting to let go. I could hear Ivy in the living room, trying to find a way to make a graceful entrance. The warmth of his body was soothing, and I held my breath against the thought of his teeth sinking into me. I knew exactly how good it would feel. What was I going to do about that?

Kisten's head came up an instant before the peal of the front doorbell echoed through the church. "I got it!" Ivy shouted, and Kisten and I pulled apart before her boots made a soft brush down the hall. The light flicked on in the hallway, and I heard the beginnings of a low conversation. The mushrooms needed cutting, and Kisten joined me as I washed my hands. We jostled for space at the sink, bumping hips as he pushed me into a better mood.

"Cut them at an angle," he admonished when I reached for the cutting board. He had his hands in the flour bag, then clapped them once over the sink before putting himself at the center island counter and the ball of dough he had set to rise under a piece of linen.

"It makes a difference?" Still melancholy, I moved my stuff to the opposite side of the counter so I could watch him. "David?" I shouted, eating the first mushroom slice. It was probably him, seeing as I'd asked him to come over.

A low noise escaped Kisten, and I smiled. He looked good over there. A brush of flour made a domestic smear on his shirt, and he had rolled up his sleeves to show his lightly tanned arms. Seeing him gently handling the dough and watching me at the same time, I realized the thrill was back—the delicious danger of what-if. He had told Ivy he wasn't going to walk away from me; I was on dangerous ground. Again.

God save me. I thought in disgust. Could I be any more stupid? My life was so messed up. How could I just stand here and cut mushrooms as if everything was normal? But compared to last week, maybe this was normal.

My attention came up when David walked in ahead of Ivy, his slight build looking blocky before her sleek grace. "Hi, David," I said, trying to clear my mind. "Full moon tonight."

He nodded, saying nothing as he took in Kisten casually pulling the dough into a circle. "I can't stay," he said, realizing we were making lunch. "I have a few appointments, but you said it was urgent?" He smiled at Kisten. "Hi, Kisten. How's the boat?"

"Still afloat," he said, eyebrows rising as he took in David's expensive suit. He was working, and he looked the part despite the heavy stubble the full moon made worse.

"It won't take long," I said, slicing the last mushroom. "I've got something I want you to take a look at. Picked it up on vacation, and I want your opinion."

His eyes went wondering, but he unbuttoned his long leather duster. "Now?"

"Full moon," I said cryptically, sliding the sliced mushrooms into my smallest spell pot and quashing the faint worry that I was breaking rule number two by mixing food prep and spell prep, but they were just the right size to hold toppings. Ivy quietly went to the fridge, getting out the cheese, cooked hamburger, and the bacon left over from breakfast. I tried to meet her eyes to tell her we were okay, but she wouldn't look at me.

Angry, I slammed the knife down, careful to keep my fingers out of the way. Silly little vamp, afraid of her feelings.

Kisten sighed, his eyes on the disk of dough he had tossed professionally into the air, "Someday, I'm going to get you two ladies together."

"I don't do threesomes," I said snidely.

David jerked, but Kisten's eyes went sultry and pensive, even as he caught the dough. "That's not what I was talking about, but okay."

Ivy's cheeks were red, and David froze as he took in the sudden tension. "Uh," the Were said, half out of his coat. "Maybe this isn't a good time."

I dredged up a smile. "No," I said. "It's just everyday normal crap. We're used to it."

David finished taking off his coat, frowning. "I'm not," he muttered.

I went to the sink and leaned toward the window, thinking David was a bit of a prude. "Jenks!" I shouted into the dusky garden, alight with pixy children tormenting moths. It was beautiful, and I almost lost myself in the sifting bands of falling color.

A clatter of wings was my only warning, and I jerked away when Jenks vaulted through the pixy hole in the screen. "David!" he called out, looking great in his casual gardening clothes of green and black. Hovering at eye level, he brought the scent of damp earth into the kitchen. "Thank Tink's little red shoes you're here," he said, pulling up two feet when Rex appeared in the doorway, her eyes big and her ears pricked. "Matalina is about ready to dewing me. You gotta get this thing out of my living room. My kids keep touching it. Making it move."