Spice Box: Sixteen Steamy Stories

by Raine Miller

  We’re both relatively quiet as we have coffee and muffins, though we cast glances at each other from across the table. Just the sight of him warms my blood—his masculine features that are so dear to me, the strands of thick hair brushing his forehead, the way he picks up his coffee by wrapping his hand around the cup rather than the handle.

  We exchange sections of the Sunday paper, commenting on news articles and local events. He reads the sports page. I read the entertainment insert. He refills our coffee. I clip a few coupons. He studies the stock market. I get a pencil and work out a few answers on the crossword puzzle, then pass it across for him to finish. We split the last blueberry muffin.

  It’s almost eleven before we finally get the dishes washed and the paper stacked for recycling. Dean stands and stretches, his T-shirt pulling across his chest, then comes around the table to wrap me in his arms.

  “Ah, Liv.” His body heaves with a sigh. “I miss you.”

  I press my forehead against his chest. “I miss you too. Things sure got messed up, didn’t they?”

  “They did.”

  “We’ve done a lousy job trying to fix it.”

  “Yeah.” His voice roughens with the admission.

  I swallow hard and force out my darkest fear. “What if we can’t?”

  Dean puts his hands on either side of my head and lifts my face to look at him. His eyes are serious but tender.

  “We’ve done it before,” he says. “We can do it again.”

  Fall seven times. Get up eight.

  “I don’t want to lose you,” I whisper.

  “You’ll never lose me.” He slides his hand to the back of my neck. “I want you to come home.”

  I tighten my arms around his waist. A tentative hope spreads inside me, like a new, green shoot pushing its way up through a layer of ice.

  “I want to come home,” I say. “And I want you to be here when I do.”

  “I’ll be here, beauty. Waiting for you.”

  ***

  Christmas Eve is cold and bright. A fresh layer of snow covers Avalon Street, and the sun sparkles off it like little jewels. Colorful lights twinkle around lampposts and store windows.

  The Historical Museum is having a holiday party for staff and volunteers this afternoon, and Dean and I are going together. Though I haven’t yet moved back into our apartment, we’re both here getting ready.

  I dress in a black, short-sleeved jersey dress with a scooped neckline that displays the cameo necklace Dean gave me as a first anniversary present. The pendant matches my cameo engagement ring, which I’m also wearing. I twist my hair into a ponytail and fasten it with a red bow, then head out of the bathroom.

  Dean is knotting his tie in front of the mirror. He slides his gaze to me, and his eyes warm with appreciation.

  “Very pretty.” He gives his tie a final pull, then comes over to press a kiss against my lips.

  My heart flutters. He looks incredibly handsome in black trousers and a crisp, white shirt, the knot of his tie nestled against the column of his throat. I watch as he shrugs into his suit jacket, checks for his wallet, fastens his watch—all those easy, deft movements that have become so familiar to me over the years.

  I think I’ve loved him since he first walked into Jitter Beans. Into my life.

  He takes his car keys from the dresser and glances at me. A frown tugs at his mouth.

  “Liv?”

  Emotions tumble through me, riotous colors, light and shadows, fear and joy. I take a breath.

  “Dean.”

  “What?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  THE END

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  Turn the page to read Eternal Ever After by A.C. James or return to the TABLE OF CONTENTS.

  Eternal Ever After by A.C. James

  His past holds a secret...

  Arie Cush has a secret that he thought he’d left behind. When his past follows him to Chicago he must protect someone that reminds him of all the painful memories he’s tried so hard to forget. But when every touch from her sets his heart and body on fire--he finds it hard to maintain his aloof façade.

  that becomes her nightmare.

  Holly Ellis has secrets of her own. An encounter with the handsome stranger who frequents her coffee shop reveals a vampire with baggage. Even though it might be more than she bargained for, she can’t resist the one person who understands her. But her life is in danger and a supernatural threat could reveal the underground world of vampires to humankind in this Gothic Cinderella re-telling.

  Turn the page for Eternal Ever After by A.C. James or return to the TABLE OF CONTENTS.

  “If your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink.”

  –Holy Bible: New Revised Standard Version

  PREFACE

  I never guessed that I would die with a sea of faces surrounding me, all cheering for my death. A woman wearing a jacket dress made of brocade only laughed louder when blood splattered her low, square neckline. Where is Arie? I scanned the crowded club, but all I could see were pale faces, some half-covered by masks.

  My time had come, and I prayed she would finish me off quickly. The warm trickle of blood ran down my neck and chest, saturating the corset bustier of my gown. It seemed like a shame to ruin such a pretty dress. Strangely, I felt relieved the bodice was black and not a light color that would show a stain.

  The fear of dying, or more accurately the fear of not existing, scared me stiff. Perhaps if I had satisfied this existential anxiety with faith I wouldn’t jump from panic to ambivalence. I should be angry at everyone who simply watched. They must think the gruesome display was part of the entertainment for tonight. After the bloody burlesque show, I could hardly blame them.

  -Holly, I gave you the chance to leave.- The telepathic transference hardly seemed relevant at this point. I knew if I’d never gone to the Hellfire Club, I wouldn’t be facing death now. Still, if my death meant the killings would stop, it seemed justifiable.

  “No!” I could barely hear Arie scream above the cheering voices clamoring for attention. The constant drone defied my effort to form coherent thoughts. I looked up and could see him on the balcony. When I blinked, he’d disappeared into the throng. I could feel the blood continue to trickle down my neck as she drained me. Dizziness threatened to pull me under. The audience applauded her brutality as I crumpled at her feet, looking up at her paper-thin smile.

  Blood. So much blood. My blood.

  I didn’t want this to be the story of my death, but this part was only a fragment of a narrative as old as time. Its voices filled the shadows with whispers of legend. We are told that the damned cease to exist, and those absolved from sin are given eternal life. The damned can never be saved. They walk the earth in an eternal hell. I fear it will be my curse if death doesn’t claim me instead.

  CHAPTER 1

  Chicago

  Three Months Prior

  I wanted to ask the man gawking at me from behind the counter what the hell his problem was. But I didn’t dare tell off a customer when my boss, Marshall, had been such a hard-ass since his wife died. The tongue-lashing from him wouldn’t be worth the momentary satisfaction I’d get from reprimanding the man for staring at me. Nice to look at or not, it was just plain rude. It made me uncomfortable, yet tied my stomach into knots at the same time. God, I bet he could make my toes curl. I let out a sigh. It had been way too long since someone had ground my hips into a mattress.

  I’m not bad-looking—maybe a little mousey, with wide brown eyes. But I make up for it with a narrow waist and decent cheekbones. And I usually wear my hair piled on top of my head, held in place with two pencils. Wiping my clammy hands on my apron, I glanced over at the man.

  Damn.

  His gray eyes watched my every move, and the coffee cup in front of him looked alm
ost empty. I tried to plaster on a smile to cover my annoyance as I waited on him. Part of me was dying to talk to him, but another part wanted him to approach me instead. He’d been coming in here for a few weeks, and it annoyed me that I got these ridiculous butterflies in my stomach every time he looked at me. There was no way to avoid waiting on him, and nervous excitement bubbled inside me as I approached him. Images of him pressing me against a counter and his mouth tasting every inch of me didn’t make it any easier.

  I took a deep breath. “Can I get you some more coffee? You take it black, right?” He smiled in a way that twisted my stomach and made me nervous, but in a good way. “Sure. You’re observant. I like that.”

  “Well, you’ve been in here almost every day.” Although I usually ducked away and let Trina wait on him instead. Feeling tongue-tied when he was around was out of character for me. Usually I’d talk to anyone as long as they weren’t an asshole.

  “What can I say? I like the coffee.”

  I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks from his flirtatious tone. “Yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes. “That’s why this place is so packed. Because I make a mean cup of coffee.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Holly.”

  “Just Holly?”

  “Holly Ellis.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Ellis.”

  The formal way he addressed me and the cadence of his speech were strange, but charming. He folded his hands on top of the counter and I saw a ‘V’ followed by a small dot tattooed on the back of his hand. I bit my lower lip and looked away. Get a grip. He was really hot, and there was something mysterious about him that totally turned me on.

  A hefty man who had been reading a newspaper in a nearby booth rose and approached the cash register. Glad for the distraction, I walked over to the customer, pushed a few buttons, the till slid open and I took his money.

  As soon as my fingers brushed his hand, unwanted images flashed through my mind. I’ve always had the misfortune of seeing things that normal people don’t see. An image of the hefty man opening a door to a dimly lit bedroom flooded my mind. A woman and another man ground together on the bed, fucking their brains out. The woman looked up in surprise, grabbing at the sheet to cover herself. The man with the newspaper dropped both the paper and the briefcase that he carried.

  “Miss, could I have my change please?”

  I looked up at the man at the register, wordlessly handing him his change. Shaking his head, he turned for the door.

  “Sir…”

  The man stopped in his tracks. “Yes?”

  “Um…have a nice day,” I said weakly.

  What else could I possibly say? ‘Don’t go home, your wife is fucking someone else?’ Years of experience had taught me that people tend not to believe what they can’t see. He’d probably only cause a big scene in front of the mysterious man sitting at the counter. Having the Sight wasn’t a gift—it kept everyone at a distance.

  I pushed my ill-fitting glasses up the bridge of my nose. The unnerving stranger had been watching the interaction with a curious expression. God, he must think I’m completely mental. With his short dark hair curled around the collar of his leather jacket, he looked breathtaking. Our eyes met and he flashed a pearly smile before I jaunted down the hall, past the bathroom, and popped my head around the corner. The smell of recirculating cigar smoke marinating Marshall’s office made me wrinkle my nose.

  “Hey, I’m heading out. I helped the last customer and my shift ended fifteen minutes ago.” He didn’t even look up from the slips on his desk and acknowledged me only with a grunt.

  I hurried out before he added ‘one last thing.’ Otherwise I’d be working for nothing again. Marshall had a habit of asking me to do things right before the end of my shift, or even after, but he never paid me for my time. By twenty-two I figured I’d be doing more than working at the Coffee Grind.

  The dirty slush of melting snow lining the sidewalk and the brisk winter evening greeted me. My breath puffed out in white vapor that lingered in the air, and I hoisted my army satchel onto my shoulder. I couldn’t help thinking about the man with the steely eyes back at the Coffee Grind. It had been a long time since I’d been out with anyone. Not that guys didn’t hit on me, just none that I found appealing. Although my standards aren’t high, it helps if you have a job, sound reasonably intelligent, and don’t cornball me with a cheesy pick-up line.

  Mist began to spiral around my legs. I walked along the sidewalk toward my rusted blue Beetle. A dense cloud cover quickly rolled across the gray sky above. -Leave here.- A menacing whisper filled my mind and fear jogged me from my thoughts. My heartbeat quickened as I looked around for the source of the whispering. Its hissed threat made me wonder if I’d really heard it at all. A faded set of hate-filled eyes shaped the clouds that loomed above. I’d never seen clouds do that. They took on the appearance of menacing, feminine-shaped eyes. Across the street a woman walking her dog looked up at the sky, a frightened expression on her face. Okay, it’s not just my imagination playing tricks on me. Clearly, the clouds had morphed into vengeful eyes, and I wasn’t the only one freaked out by the impossibility of it.

  Wind whipped trash down the street and a stray paper blew into my face. My hair fell free from the pencil that held it in place and became a tangled chestnut mass that wrapped around my body. -Leave here.- The words were louder and I covered my ears to block them out. Thunder rolled and a streak of lightening lit the sky while the wind pressed against my back, propelling me down the sidewalk.

  I heard the bell above the door of the coffee shop chime behind me. I picked up my pace, running instead of walking to the safe confines of my car. The air outside had suddenly turned arctic. Shit. The front left wheel of my car drooped like a deflated balloon against the pavement.

  I felt a hand grab my shoulder from behind.

  “Looks like we’re in for a storm.”

  Reaching for the pepper spray in my satchel, I turned toward the voice. Pale gray eyes, the color of a stormy sky, looked down at me with concern. I sagged against my car, relief washing over me as the stranger from the coffee shop stood in front of me.

  “Yeah,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “That’s some storm.” But something in my gut told me it was more than just a storm brewing.

  “Can I help you with that?”

  “No, it’s okay. I know how to fix a flat.”

  “Really?” He took a step toward me and I felt a little dizzy. “Impressive, but let me…do it anyway.”

  I wasn’t sure whether we were still talking about the tire or something else entirely. It felt like fog was wrapping around my muddled brain when he looked at me. I found it difficult to concentrate, but the sensation seemed like more than just the desire I felt for him influencing my ability to think straight. “Er… Sure. I mean, thanks.”

  Internally cursing myself for the lack of confidence I heard in my voice, I popped open the hood and he removed the spare, with its wheel kit in the center. His pale fingers deftly jacked up the car while I stood shivering. I wonder what else those fingers would be good at. He quickly loosened the lug nuts and took off the flat, his eyes narrowing as he inspected it. His head popped up like a jack-in-the-box and he looked around as if he’d heard something, but only the bitter gust of cold air howled through the street.

  He placed the flat tire aside. I hauled it to the compartment where the spare was kept, heaving it inside. When I slammed the hood, he already had the new tire in place and made quick work of tightening all the lug nuts. With the grace of a panther he rose from his crouched position on the concrete.

  “That should about do it.”

  “You’re fast.”

  His grin flashed ultra-white teeth in the fading light. “Yeah, I’ve done it more than once.”

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Arie. Arie Cush.”

  Suddenly, I felt like a silly school girl with a crush and looked away
. Better stop before my gums start flapping and I sound like a blabbing idiot. Taking deep breaths to regain my composure, I looked up.

  “Thank you…”

  But my words fell on empty air. As I stood alone, a chill ran the length of my spine.

  ***

  His dark curls brushed across my skin as he trailed kisses down my stomach and over my hip. I could feel his stubble scrape across my skin along with his tongue. Cupping my ass with one hand, his tongue traced my inner thigh. Panting softly, I licked my dry lips. My hands were in his hair as I guided his head toward my pussy. He groaned.

  “I want you, Holly. I want to taste you. Trouble or not, I can’t stop.”

  I arched my hips off the bed, my clit throbbing for attention, pounding along with my raging heartbeat. I hooked one of my legs over his shoulder as he covered my cleft with his mouth. Searing pleasure pulsed through me. Relinquishing his hair, my white-knuckled grip clenched the sheet beneath me instead. He rimmed my trembling slit, teasing me, taunting me with the promise of orgasm. And I wanted to feel his cock inside me, stroking me until mind-numbing waves of pleasure surged through my pussy.

  Meow.

  I awoke to warm beams of sunlight shining on my face and Mystic sitting on my chest. He purred loudly, awaiting his morning treat. I groaned. Rolling over, I glanced at my alarm clock; its red digital numbers displayed the time as ten o’clock. Perfect… I still have time for a nice long soak. I scratched Mystic behind his ears and stretched lazily, making him jump off the bed.

  “I guess it’s time to get up.”

  It was good that no one could see me talking to my cat as he sat on the floor waiting expectantly. Mystic meowed before turning and leading the way to the kitchen. I stumbled sleepily behind his gray tail, which twitched from side to side as he sauntered to his dish.

  “Here you go, boy.”

  Placing the food in the bowl, I gave his head a quick pat. Yawning my way across the cracked linoleum, I set about getting the coffee brewing and toasting a poppy-seed bagel. As I ate my bagel, I promised myself that this weekend I would do something about the drifts of laundry on my bedroom floor and organize my closet. I kept my small apartment relatively clean, but knickknacks cluttered the living room and books overflowed the bookcase to occupy almost every surface. But it was mine and there was nothing better than having my own space.