Myths and Magic: An Epic Fantasy and Speculative Fiction Boxed Set

by K.N. Lee

“What? I don’t think she is annoying,” he reached for another grape, but I snatched it and popped it in my mouth. I had to take revenge for my friend somehow, besides it made him laugh. He did have a wonderful laugh.

  “She has control issues. I think that’s why she isn’t particularly fond of me. I don’t allow her to control anything. I’m sure she is feeling very proud of her little stunt in the mall right about now. But I’ll let her think she was in control of the situation just this once,” he smirked and grabbed another grape. I tried to snatch it again, but he saw it coming and was much quicker than I was. He held the grape between his teeth, smiling around it before biting down.

  “You were in control? You planned this all out, to be alone with me?” His wanting this time with me, having already planned to take me away to what he referred to as his own little paradise, filled me with a satisfied feeling, one I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  It was nice to feel wanted, to know that someone in the world (outside of my bouncy best friend) cared about and looked forward to being able to spend time with me. The fact that he would go so far as to make sure that he could, well that was the cherry on top. It was nothing like the feeling I had when Jazz pestered me about returning to the land of the living. This was much better, paired with the magnetic attraction that existed between us, it anchored itself in my core.

  I wasn’t the only one affected by that pull, that tug that developed, pulling from my center whenever I was close to him. It was there for him just as it had been for me. The only thing I couldn’t figure out was which one of us controlled it. I doubted that it was me. I’m sure I would have noticed at some point in my life if I had some invisible lasso I could wrap around a hot guy and use it to draw him to me. This was a skill that would have been used, often.

  “I had to see you again.” His eyes still drifted off but something in them changed. It lasted only for a second before he could regain control. Something in that moment, that eagerness mixed with a bit of concern made my blood rush.

  “You just wanted to see me?” I questioned him. His sentiment was nice, quite perfect actually, it was kind of too good to believe.

  “Well, obviously, more than just see,” he gestured, waving his hand around him at the surroundings. “I can see you wherever you are, Alexa. I wanted to be with you, alone.”

  “I find it hard to believe I had that much of an effect on you. The first time you saw me, I looked a mess and felt a thousand times worse,” my high faded as I remembered that first encounter. Maybe, his reasoning for this wasn’t the same as mine. Perhaps this little outing was one planned out of pity for the sickly girl. Maybe he had the charitable bone, like my mother.

  “I didn’t see that,” he lied to be nice, but there was no way he hadn’t noticed.

  “You already admitted that I look different today.” I regretted inviting the topic into the conversation again. I still was unsure of how he felt about the details of my sudden recovery. I wrapped my arms around myself feeling self-conscious.

  “Yes, you do look healthier, but that is not what drew me to you. It wasn’t your looks, Alexa.” He sat up and grabbed the extra blanket that was folded in the bottom of the basket, and wrapped it around me. He must have mistaken my embarrassment for a symptom of the cool air.

  “Really?” Accepting the things, he said shouldn’t have been that difficult, but paranoia made me think he had to have an ulterior motive. “What was it that drew you to me?”

  “I can only say it was you. Not your appearance. As soon as I entered that party, before I ever saw you. I knew you were there. I could feel your presence. I lost control of myself, I wanted to go to you so badly, but I could not. It was like there was a wall there preventing me from getting closer to you. Even my words seemed to be trapped in my throat. It was the most pleasant form of terror. I found you, but I couldn’t get to you.” He stopped talking and searched my face, wanting a response, something that told him that he hadn’t said too much. I knew that expression; it was one I often wore myself.

  “That’s how I felt too,” My words came out low and breathy. I was afraid for him to hear, afraid the insanity of it all wasn’t my own. “It was like I wasn’t really me anymore. I liked the feeling; to be feeling anything at all besides pain was wonderful, but I hated it at the same time. Because, I was no longer in control of myself, and I have already lost control of so much in my life.”

  He leaned in closer to me again. I wanted him to kiss me, I could feel those electrical pulses initiating again throughout my body, but forced my mind to remain focused on the man that held me captive with just one look. “I know this is bizarre and I wish I could tell you what was happening, but I can't, no more than I can explain why that block, the wall that kept me from getting to you before, is not here now.” He lifted his hand to my face and touched my lips with his fingertips. “I know that I want to be with you, and that for me, is all I need to know. Life has a way of creating these inexplicable situations. I’ve learned that it’s best not to question them, but to accept them for the marvels that they are.”

  13

  When I opened my eyes, I was in the passenger seat of his car. My house sat outside of the window greeting me with its harsh visual welcome. He suggested that we leave shortly after I started to nod off though, it was enjoyable sitting on the blanket and soaking up the sun. He must have asked me for my address while we drove, but I didn’t remember giving it to him. It didn’t seem worth asking how he knew. Call me crazy; but it was oddly comforting that he did.

  “I didn’t want to wake you.” He sat in the driver’s seat next to me playing with his phone.

  “How long was I asleep?” I stretched my arms and tried to hide it when it wiped my face to check for drool.

  “Not long,” he held back his laughter; I wasn’t as subtle as I tried to be.

  “I don’t remember getting in the car.” I yawned again and hoped my breath did not stink.

  “You were out of it. I kept saying we should leave, but you wanted to stay. Eventually, I looked over and you were snoring, so I carried you to the car. I hope you don’t mind. You looked so peaceful,” he reached over and pulled a strand of hair out of my face tucking it behind my ear.

  “You carried me?” My cheeks began to heat up. “How long have we been sitting here?”

  “Not that long, only a few minutes.” He smiled.

  “I feel bad. I make for horrible company.” First, I continued to zone out on him, and then I was snoring and drooling on his car seat. If he ever thought I was attractive, that was a thing of the past.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I'm sure you didn’t plan on spending the day with someone who could pass for a coma patient.” I peered at him through my lashes and saw that he was still smiling at me.

  “Either way, I enjoyed myself,” that was all it took to make my nerves return.

  “I did too…oddly.” I yawned, stretched my limbs, and slumped back into the seat.

  “Why oddly?”

  “We barely spoke to each other; sat in silence for hours. I can only imagine how boring it must have been for you, especially after I fell asleep.” Another wave of heat flooded my cheeks. They would surely be lit up now, bright enough to see from space.

  “Trust me, I wasn’t bored. Especially after you fell to sleep, that was the best part.” His smile wavered for a moment, he was apprehensive about us and I wanted to know why, but asking would only embarrass us both. What if his answer was something obvious, something I should have already known?

  “I should probably get inside. I don’t want to take up too much more of your time,” the decision to flee was not for his benefit. It wouldn’t be long before I said or did something to scare him away.

  “You don’t have to go,” the strain behind his words was nearly too intense for the moment. His desire to keep me near, caused me to hesitate in my escape.

  If I was honest with myself, I wanted him to ask me to stay and he did. He hadn’t exactly
asked, but the sentiment was the same. I waited for a sign, something to tell me that I should remain in the car with him. Moments later, that sign was given to me in a spectacular way.

  The gray escaped from around him not just his eyes, but all the around him, and it spread out to me. It blanketed us and erased everything else. The cool touch of it (one I must have imagined) only lasted for a second as it wrapped around me and pulled me over to him in the small space. The closer our bodies became, the more intense the heat got.

  The pull was stronger now; my body jerked towards him and in an instant, I was on top of him looking down at his face. Our lips finally met as my legs straddled across his lap. The steering wheel pressed into my back. Something hot like fire, electric, raced across my skin. I closed my eyes to focus on the sensations that were flooding my body, but it all seemed so overwhelming.

  The pull was working to eliminate more than just my own self-control. Lacal’s actions were hungry and passionate. He kissed me greedily, more than I expected from him, this gentleman who plans sweet picnics in paradise. His tongue explored my mouth, while hands were pulling at my clothes. Our breaths were now rough, deep, and in unison. The sound of fabric ripping tore me from the heat. I pulled back to look at him, the jolt I felt was echoed back to me in his expression. I felt the pieces of fabric before I saw them.

  In my hands were shreds of his white shirt, I stared at them, and then to his bare chest. He started to say something; whatever it was, I imagined wasn’t going to be good, so I grabbed my bags and darted from the car.

  Running to my door, there were no sounds of him following me, no attempt to stop my retreat. I hoped he was just stunned, and not totally disgusted with me. Once in the house, I threw my keys to the floor and slammed the door behind me. Humiliation began to choke me, and my legs turned to jelly. I slid to the floor with my back pressed against the wood barrier. A few minutes passed and the panic began to subside. The sound of his engine came to me from outside, purring as he drove away.

  My mind was unable to process what it had just experienced. I hadn’t been able to govern my own actions. Yes, this had happened before, a symptom of my illness, but then it was spasms that wracked my limbs, not passion. This was different; I had been controlled by impulse. The pleasure of it was 100 times more penetrating than any pain I had ever felt. I pulled myself off the floor and headed for the stairs.

  What did he think of me? He’d been so nice all day, only to get attacked and ran out on. He had to have experienced the same thing; I hadn’t been there alone. The heat of his skin on mine felt too real to be something my mind had fabricated. What about the gray? Surely, I had imagined that sensation of it touching my skin, color didn’t have the ability to touch!

  I still held the pieces of his shirt in my hand. I put them to my nose, inhaling the scent, sweet, yet musky, perfect! Where the hell did the strength come from to rip through the fabric? What was found beneath the shirt, was far from disappointing. The small groan escaped my lips as the image of his bare chest returned. Even more so, the feeling of the heavy rise and fall was so much better when pressed against my own chest. His abs felt like they had been set in stone. In any other situation, I would have been able to enjoy it all. However, after the time we spent together, the heat, the fire, the sensuality of it all. The connection I wanted to be real, it only worked to convince me that I was indeed dreaming.

  As I reached the top of the stairs, the shower called to me much louder than my bed did. I had slept enough, and after what had just taken place, my body was excited. A shower would help to calm the urge I had to run out into the streets and track him down. After setting the temperature of the water, I decided to check my reflection. It may have been vain, but it was hard not to be excited about seeing the girl who looked back, this new and improved me.

  Reflected back to me was more than just the new face, full of health and life. It was also the evidence of what had just taken place, evidence that the passion in the car was not just my own. If what I had done to his shirt was bad, this could only be classified as criminal. My top was completely shredded! In my race to get away from him, I never thought to check the damage done to my own attire. My bra was exposed beneath my torn top and one strap was missing entirely. My hair was no longer in the ponytail, but stood wildly over my head like a mad woman. With my luck, one of my neighbors had seen me running to the safety of my home. There were so many ways for that scene to be misinterpreted. The police would be out searching for his car within minutes! If I had thought to get his phone number, I would have called to warn him. On the other hand, I may have told him to come back. So, what if he would be risking jail time!

  My jeans were unbuttoned, and the zipper was gone. Great, they were my favorite pair. That was when I noticed the hickies, little blood clots that had formed under my skin where he had kissed me, created by the pull of his lips. There were two on my neck and one on my left breast. I couldn’t even remember that happening. Damn, how could any feeling be strong enough to block out the sensation of him ravaging my body?

  The red spot on my breast still throbbed with the blood that had been pulled there. I touched the skin and felt it pulsate underneath my finger, my heart drummed faster and sent my mind back again, back to the car. Only this time there was no mental interference between me and the feel of his touch, the way his fingertips danced across my skin. It all played in slow motion. There was no rigid movement that brought me to my place on top of him. My body flowed as I threw my leg across him and settled in on his lap. My fingers combed through his hair before grabbing a handful and pulling his mouth to mine.

  My head fell back, a smile wide across my face, as I guided his mouth to my neck. Then lower, his tongue traced the curves of my throat as his mouth found my breast. I could feel my skin giving way to him. Inviting him in as my chest rose to the heat of his breath, encouraging him to continue.

  My breath became more shallow and chaotic as his hands tore apart my shirt and pulled my bra strap down with so much force it snapped off completely, and landed in the passenger seat. I pulled the rubber band out of my hair as his hands found the button of my jeans. He tugged it once and the zipper went flying to the back seat.

  He looked at me, desire filling his eyes, like the flame that created that smoky gray that surrounded us. He was trying to control himself and catch his breath. He didn’t get a chance, I dove into him again teasing his lip between my teeth until he lost control as his hands travelled across my body gripping and releasing as he tried to regain some composure. His left hand pulled my hair, while the right slipped under my shirt and cupped my breast.

  Greedily, I invited him into myself and took all that I could. My fingers wrapped around his collar and pulled, instead of the ripping sound I heard before, the doorbell rang out from downstairs.

  I shut off the shower and walked down the stairs pulling a new shirt over my head, and trying to stop my heart from beating through my chest. This reaction was one of anticipation, not the nervous response that had happened repeatedly throughout the day. Standing at the bottom of the staircase, I realized who this anticipation was for. I wanted Lacal; I hoped it was him on the other side of the door. I hoped he had come back to finish what we had started.

  My pulse picked up again and my head swam as I felt the heat of his lap return to the space between my legs. A few deep breaths to center myself proved pointless. The pull he had over me wasn’t there, but I was going to the door anyway. My body, or something deep inside of me, couldn’t wait to be with him again.

  I paused again before turning the doorknob and considered running back up the stairs to my bed to wait for this to be over. This dream was too much, too real, too dangerous to continue to play into. I was getting in too deep, which is exactly what I said I wouldn’t do.

  The fantasy had gotten to me, it convinced me to get lost in the glamour of it all, and now I was anticipating more. The best course of action would be to let go of the illusion, because becoming more invo
lved would result in my destruction when I finally woke up, and I knew that it would happen eventually. The feelings in the car, and everything that took place since our first encounter, none of it could possibly be real. The pain had to have caught up with me at Jazz’s party. I must be lying on her floor passed out, and probably never even made it to my car. Perhaps I was in an ambulance or in a coma, locked away in my own mind.

  Ready to accept this and retreat to my room, I turned away, but the bell rang again. My heart jumped, strayed from its predetermined rhythm. Lacal. His name skittered through my mind. I wanted him and if he was there, he wouldn’t be refused. One more cleansing breath and I opened the door.

  14

  “I want to know everything!” Jazz burst through the door before I could even fully turn the knob. She walked past me into the living room, and threw herself across the couch with her feet slung over the armrest. Her arms were crossed under her head, and her lips poked out like an impatient child.

  I took my time closing the door and walking into the room, deliberately dragging my feet along the floor. I needed to get my thoughts in order and deal with this new mixture of feelings. The relief to see my friend, yet annoyance that I couldn’t continue my fantasy, and satisfy that part inside of me that longed to be with Lacal.

  What approach should I use in dealing with my eager friend? She’d come for one thing only and that was information, but how much should she be told? She would have her own opinions about what happened. Most likely, they would make me feel naïve and point out my overreaction to everything. That reality check wasn’t necessary.

  Joining the emotional cocktail was my good old friend, Embarrassment. I could only imagine what Jazz would think, but what about Lacal? Maybe that was the reason he had left without looking back. Hell, he was probably already with his friends, laughing and joking about it. Telling them about the girl who ripped his shirt off and ran away.