Darkness Becomes Her

“Why? What do you mean?” My fists clenched at my sides. I wanted to scream in frustration. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

Sadness passed through his eyes. “I hope you never find out.” And then he turned away, shaking his head.

“Please, Jean,” I said, begging now. He saw my curse. He knew what it was; he was the only one who knew. “I need help.” Jesus Christ, I hated to beg. Hated it so much that it made my chest tight and sour.

Jean sighed, then shook his head again like he was about to do something he shouldn’t. He leaned away from the door. “You want to know the past, what has been put on you? Grind a bone of Alice Cromley into powder, powder as fine as dust, and then you’ll see. Those bones will tell you your story. Bastian knows, don’t you?” Sebastian nodded, and Jean seemed satisfied. “Good luck, chère.”

He went back inside and closed the door.

I turned to Sebastian. “Please tell me he’s not serious.”

Sebastian took my arm, leading me away from the house and back to the passageway. “Unfortunately, he’s dead serious.”

Figures.

I yanked my arm away and marched down the courtyard tunnel and back to Dumaine Street. I didn’t bother waiting for Sebastian as I stormed out of the gate, letting it slam back on the lock, and headed south.

All I wanted was some normalcy in my life. That was all! Why was that so freaking hard to come by? Why?

Tears stung my eyes, stupid, burning tears that I swiped away with the back of my hand. A scream welled inside my chest, pushing against my heart and ribs, hurting like hell. I sniffed hard and—

A bright flash blinded me.

An intense bolt of pain sliced through my brain, making me scream, hands going to my head as I stumbled to my knees in the street. I doubled over, my elbows on the pavers, my fingers pulling at the roots of my hair as the pain mushroomed out to the very ends of my skull and then rebounded back in to do more damage. I screamed again as waves of agony flowed through my head.

It was too much . . . too much.

Hands curled around my shoulders, pulling me back, lifting me up off the ground.

My eyes opened but didn’t see, too blinded by pain. The side of my wet face bumped against cloth. Sebastian’s shirt. His smell. His voice, though I couldn’t understand his words. His lips and warm breath were on my temple, talking softly. I turned into him, seeking solace, comfort, some kind of escape, but it still hurt. Every step he took vibrated fresh pain through my head.

And then, thank God, he stopped. He held me tight, wrapping his arms around me, leaning back. I held on, squeezing my eyes closed and locking myself away. But not alone. Thankfully, this time, not alone.

Seven

A MELLOW JAZZ TUNE PLAYED COMPANION TO THE STEADY thud of Sebastian’s heart, the piano notes meandering through my waking mind like a tranquil breeze. Dull remnants of pain clung to the curve of my skull, a reminder of my breakdown in the middle of Dumaine Street and the arms that held me—that still held me.

The right side of my face pressed against the soft cotton of Sebastian’s T-shirt, my ear over his heart. One of his hands cupped the back of my neck, his fingers tangled in my loose hair. His other hand was splayed on my lower back, palm against the bare skin where my shirt had ridden up. Warmth surrounded me. His warmth. His smell. His arms. His legs were braced on either side of me, my hip snuggled squarely against his crotch.

The more I woke, the more my rising pulse drowned out the beat of Sebastian’s heart. A cool sensation swept into my stomach. Every nerve ending came alive from being that close . . . and being embarrassed as hell that I’d clung to him for this long.

Might as well get it over with.

Drawing in a subtle breath and biting down on my lip, I lifted my head and opened my eyes. Using both hands, one on Sebastian’s chest and the other near his shoulder, I pushed myself to a sitting position between his legs as the weight of my hair fell around my face. I’d never had my hands on a guy like this. Never felt the warmth and the muscle and the give of skin beneath my palms.

Once I was up, my eyes landed on Sebastian. For once, I was glad that my hair was down and shielding my face. At least then, I could hide.

Sebastian’s head rested back against the dark green seat, his body snuggled into the V of a corner booth. A bartender polished a bar top as a piano player played, and a waitress served drinks to the only other couple in the dark room. The front door was open to the street outside.

When I returned my gaze to Sebastian, his eyes were half-open and fixed on me in a quiet, unreadable way. The color seemed to smolder like smoke, a mist of gray and silver. His lips had become deep red in his relaxed state. His head still rested against the seat, and his pale throat bobbed in a faint swallow. I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

For once, I wasn’t embarrassed that my hair was down. My mind became calm, totally at ease, though my body was another story. Blood thrummed through my veins at the speed of light. Small shafts of tingling energy shot out randomly from my stomach.

Sebastian lifted his hand and gently threaded his fingers through my hair. My heart thudded hard when he took the same hand and brought it to my cheek, sliding it through my hair and cupping my head, guiding me to him.

It was as though I still slept, still existed in dreamland.

And it seemed the same for him, because his body was completely at ease. There was no pause, no hesitation, just a slow unstoppable journey to his lips.

My stomach did a three-sixty as my lips hovered above his for a feathery moment, so close our breath mingled. Then my lips brushed his.

A shot of cool adrenaline swept through my system. The pressure of our lips increased. His parted. Mine followed. The slide of his tongue against mine made butterflies in my stomach.

Butterflies. Now I understood what that meant.

He pulled me closer, tighter, deepening the kiss, as though starving, yet taking the time to savor every second. I knew how to kiss, knew the mechanics involved, but this was the first time I’d ever lost myself, ever wanted it more than breathing, and wanted to keep doing it until time stood still and the earth faded away.

I was alive. Not just existing, but truly alive.

“Oh, shoot!” came a shocked voice at the other side of the table. I broke away with a gasp, just catching the waitress’s grin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. I can come back later. …”

Sebastian straightened, rubbed a hand down his face, and then dragged his fingers through his hair. I cleared my throat, finally feeling that embarrassment I’d been missing earlier, though it did nothing to swamp the heat from our kiss, heat that felt insanely good and tense and enthralling all at the same time. “It’s okay,” I managed despite my ragged breathing. “I’d love some water, if you have any.”

Of course they have water. What an asinine thing to say.

“Anything for you, Sebastian?”

“Water, too, Pam. Thanks.”

Pam left the table as Sebastian’s hands settled on my hips. “How are you feeling?” Pink blushed his cheeks for just a second. “I mean your head.” He laughed at himself. “Does it still hurt?”

“No. It’s fine. Thanks, though . . . for helping. Where are we?”

“Gabonna’s. A block over from where you collapsed. I come here all the time. Does that happen a lot?”

“Does what happen a lot?”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “The screaming in the street. Falling to your knees. Crying . . .”

Honestly, I wasn’t sure how to answer. I’d been having migraines more frequently lately, but nothing of that magnitude before. The waitress returned with the waters. I chugged half the glass. The cold liquid woke me up and cleared my head. I set the glass down and then twisted my hair into a knot.

“You should wear it down.”

My cheeks were still warm, but I was smiling as I fixed my hair. “Is that a compliment?”

“It is. I like it. It’s . . .”

“Weird? Bizarre? Different? Yeah, I get that all the time.” I rolled my eyes, finishing.

“I was going to say pretty.”

“Oh.” Great. Way to go, moron. It was obvious that I sucked in the guy department. I hadn’t exactly had much practice with the whole flirting and boy thing. Most of my time had been spent avoiding guys or fighting with the ones who refused to let me avoid them.

“Sorry,” I said, deciding to be honest. “Look, I don’t really do the guy thing. Or the kissing thing . . .”

“So no boyfriends back home?”

I couldn’t tell if he thought it was funny or if he really wanted to know. Looked like a mix of both. “No.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, guess I haven’t come across many who can think beyond sports, hormones, and partying.”

“And you don’t do those things?”

I shrugged. “Maybe I would have in another life. The things that are important to the kids my age stopped being important to me a long time ago, or never were.” I made a half bow. “Behold, a product of underfunded, nobody-gives-a-shit social services.”

He laughed. “It’s almost lunchtime. And as good as the food is here, I have something else in mind. What do you say we get out of here?”

“What exactly do you have in mind?”

“Beignets.”

My stomach rumbled at the idea. “Now that I can do.” Sebastian returned my grin with one of his own. And then it dawned on me that we were sitting there smiling at each other like two idiots. I broke eye contact and scooted from the bench, grabbing my backpack as Sebastian dug into his front pocket for a few dollars to leave on Pam’s table.

Clouds had gathered outside, but nothing to suggest a storm brewing. The shade was a godsend, because I was pretty sure, after my migraine from hell, that my head wouldn’t be able to handle bright light anytime soon.

Outside Gabonna’s, Sebastian whistled to one of the carriages plodding down Saint Ann Street. The driver waved, made a U-turn in the street, and then pulled up alongside us. “Bonjour, mes amis. Where can me and Miss Praline take you on this fine day?” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">