by Jo Raven
His hand falls to the table.
“Merc.”
“Was it something I did?” His innocent look doesn’t fool me.
“You’re bad.”
He chuckles. Feeds me another morsel.
It’s quiet inside the apartment. I got used to being around him with his music blasting through the speakers. Even when having sex in the public restrooms, he’d made me listen to music. It’s almost as if I can hear our heartbeats, keeping pace, together.
He lifts another piece to my mouth, and suddenly grunts and flinches, rocking me, the morsel falling to the table. “What the hell?”
A meow sounds from under the chair.
“Oh my God.” I’m laughing again. “Merc, meet Kitty. Kitty, meet Merc.”
I laugh so much when Merc is around. Did I forget how to laugh when he’s not there? Or didn’t I laugh much before?
Lin makes me laugh, too. I kinda miss her.
He closes his eyes and snorts. “Almost gave me a heart attack.” He drops the arm from around me to dangle his fingers. “Hey, cat. What’s up?”
“She won’t go for it,” I inform him. “She’s shy.”
“Is she now?”
Twisting around to see, I find that the kitty is smelling his fingertips.
Then she starts licking them.
“What? She’s licking… I can’t believe it.” I glare at the kitten. “It took her forever to approach me. Traitor-kitty.”
The kitty pushes her head under his hand for a caress, purring like a car engine.
“She’s a spy from the other side,” Merc intones. “The Dark Kitty Side.”
Maybe she is.
He washes our mugs and the few other dishes left from yesterday in the sink. I dry them, placing them carefully in the cupboard—I’m a little clumsy in the best of times, and with the hottie right beside me, the level of my coordination skills automatically drops to zero.
He passes me the last dish to dry, and after I have put it away, I realize he’s looking at me.
“What?” I pat my face, then the front of my blouse. “Do I have something? Did I drip water all over myself?”
“You’re so damn pretty,” he whispers.
Oh. My cheeks heat up. “Um. Thanks?” My voice comes out as a squeak. So sexy. “I, uh, am a bit of a mess, this morning, I—”
“You couldn’t be prettier than you are now,” he says, and reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Except of course when you’re naked, lying on my bed.”
My face flames.
Then my phone dings, and I dive for it, my heart in my throat.
He stays by the sink, observing me. “Everything okay?” he asks after a few seconds.
“Yeah. I mean, no. No news. She’s staying there until they tell her more.”
He shoves blond hair out of his eyes, seems to be thinking about something, gaze turned inward.
Or maybe he’s checking the time on the kitchen clock.
Then he surprises me by saying, “Tell me about your sister. About why you pretended to be her.”
I am not sure I should. It’s my sister’s story, not mine to tell, and despite everything, I still know Merc very little.
But then I find myself talking. “I didn’t pretend to be her. Well, okay, I took her place at college and work for a while. I do that occasionally.”
“Why?”
“Because…” I twist my hands together, realize I’m doing it and untwist them. I lean back against the wall. “She’s in love with a guy, Griffin. And she left him, only to realize he was the one she loved, and returned to him.”
He frowns.
“But by then he was diagnosed with cancer. He’s fighting it, and the docs sound hopeful he can beat it, but she’s devastated and tries to be by his side whenever she can.”
I don’t say that I’m not sure they are together, not sure he forgave her, accepted her back. That he loves her like she loves him.
That would have been too easy.
As if things aren’t hard enough for them as it is.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. He looks concerned on her behalf.
A tiny sting of jealousy burns in my chest—but it fades away quickly. I’m not jealous of Soph. It’s such a sad tale and I’m so worried about her.
Besides, Merc wants me. Not my sis. Not going to let myself get lost in those twisting doubts again. I’ve had time to think about this and realized that Merc is right. Soph and me, we look so much alike, anyone would be fooled at first. If I’d met Merc’s twin brother, I’d have stared at him, wanted into his pants, right? So how can I blame him? I can’t.
Lust at first glance is real. Building something, a relationship, with a guy, quite another. Lust is fine as long as your heart isn’t invested. Relationships are hard work, often doomed to fail.
I should know. Been there, done that, got the ugly T-shirt.
As for love… Love sounds like a risk you take at the peril of your soul. Not that I’ve ever been in love, I don’t think. But if it’s anything like what my sister is feeling, and living, and hurting over, well…
It seems to me as if the risk is too high.
Chapter Seventeen
Merc
“Merc, wake up.” The voice is gruff and hoarse, male and somehow familiar.
It doesn’t help as I jerk awake, tangled in my covers, my heart trying to pound its way right out of my fucking chest.
Fuck, fuck.
JC is staring at me from the open door of my bedroom, dark hair standing up on end, eyes red, t-shirt and pajama bottoms wrinkled as if he just rolled out of bed.
He probably did.
“Shit, I woke you up again,” I croak. “Sorry, man.”
He shakes his head, and I remember he said he doesn’t sleep much, but right now, I’m not buying it. He looks tired.
I feel worse. I feel as if a truck ran me over. And weirdly I can’t remember the dream. Not exactly. Normally I remember every fucking little bloody detail.
This one was… strange. Thinking about it, I get images, snippets and moments, like dreams running through one another, a braid of sounds and storylines and faces…
Blood pooling, a dead face, a temple, a swan, heavy breathing, footsteps… Remember, remember…
And then lips kissing me, trailing over my skin, swallowing my dick…
Goddammit. I look down.
Yep, I’m sporting a hard-on the size of the building. You’ve got to be kidding me… I’m a healthy young guy and I wake up with morning wood all the damn time, but usually my fantasies aren’t all mixed up with my nightmares.
Fantasies with Cos starring. It doesn’t matter how often we fuck, how often we meet, I still dream about her all the time.
“I’ll make coffee.” JC turns away from the door. If he noticed the tent in my covers, he doesn’t mention it. “Come on.”
Yeah, in this state, no way.
The moment he’s out of sight, I retreat to the bathroom, lock the door to beat a quick one out in the shower.
Shoving my boxers off, I step under the spray and wrap my hand around my stiff, aching cock. From my dream, I remember Cosima’s dark eyes gazing up at me as she sucks on my dick, her mouth so hot and tight, her tits pressing into my thighs as she works me over…
Good, so good, even as I think I see blood spreading under my feet, the chill of death…
Cranking up the heat higher, letting the hot water hit me, I jack off faster, force my mind back on track.
Cos. She lies down, and I move between her legs, sinking into her, and it’s more than I can take, so fucking tight, her body so soft against me, her moans matching mine.
And then I hear my voice from the dream saying, I love you, God, I love you…
My dick jerks in my hand, my balls clench, and I groan as my spunk hits the tiles in long, white ropes.
Love you, Cos…
Oh hell.
JC is wolfing down a sandwich by the time I make it to the kitchen, sc
rubbed clean, marginally more awake and erection-free. He takes a sip from his coffee, washing the food down, and nods at the coffee machine.
I pour myself a cup of black tar—JC manages to fuck up even the best coffee using the best coffee machine money can buy—and sit myself at the table.
“Wanna talk?” he says.
“Uh, not really.” I sip at my coffee and force myself to swallow the bitter medicine. “What is it? Did I call out names in my sleep again?”
“Yeah, you did.”
I straighten, then realize what this is probably about and curse. “Was it a girl’s name?
He frowns. “I guess.”
He guesses. “Meaning?”
“I don’t even know if it was a name. It sounded like… Axel? Come to think of it, it doesn’t sound like a girl’s name, not really.”
“Axel?”
At least he didn’t say it sounded like a moan. That would be fucking bad.
“Yeah. Or Ax. Like the one you got inked on your back.” He nods at my bare back, though he can’t see the tat from where he’s leaning against the counter.
I frown. “That doesn’t sound right.”
“Really? Dreams don’t always make sense, Mercury.”
“Ah, man, just call me Merc. And I know that. I just…” An ax, propped on a log, a round eye, looking at me…
“Nightmares, man. Merc.” JC shrugs, puts his mug down. “Monsters and frustration.” He sounds like he’s speaking of his own dreams. “What’s the meaning of your tat?”
“It’s from a book,” I say absently.
That eye.
“Which one?”
“Huh?”
“Which book?”
I try to think. “I can’t remember, I… I can’t remember why I got the tat. Or when.”
“You serious, dude?”
A sense of dread fills me, presses on my chest like a slab of granite. All I can see is blood. Then the unblinking eye staring at me, an ax. Golden afternoon light, a silver swan, and a body.
Whoa. The room rocks and tilts, the chair sliding from under me, and I’m falling.
“Merc, shit.” I’m vaguely aware of hands grabbing me under the armpits, lifting me back up until I’m safely seated once more at the table.
“The hell?” I mutter, clenching my shaking hands in my lap.
“Exactly my thoughts,” JC drawls, pulling up a chair beside me. “What was that? You okay?”
“Oh peachy,” I drawl right back at him. “I’m fine.”
“Fine, my ass.” He grabs the sugar and drops two cubes into my cup. After some thought, he adds one more and stirs, then pushes the mug into my hands. “Drink.”
“This is sugar with some caffeine added as an afterthought.”
“Drink it, goddammit.”
Fine, no point fighting about it. I’m too dizzy to punch JC right now anyway, so I might as well.
The amount of sugar makes my teeth ache and my heart thump harder.
On the plus side, the room steadies a little.
“Now.” He pries the mug from my chilled hands, puts it back on the table. “I asked what that was about.”
“I dunno, man.”
“We were talking about your tattoo.”
Irritated, I fold my arms over my chest. “And I told you, I don’t remember why I got it.”
“Merc.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, as if in pain. “Were you drunk when you got it?”
“Maybe I was.”
“Who were you with?”
I push my chair back, prepare to get up and get the hell out. “What’s with the interrogation? It’s just a goddamn tattoo.”
“Yeah? That why you went white as a sheet and almost toppled to the floor?”
Fuck. I rub my hands over my face. “Just sleeping badly.”
“What’s the tat about, Merc?”
“I don’t know, okay? I don’t fucking know.”
Blood, blood, and more blood.
The hell’s wrong with me?
After a while, his chair scrapes back. “When you decide to tell me, I’m here.” He taps his fingers on the table. “And finish that coffee.”
Motherfucking babysitter.
I’m perfectly fine.
I wait until he’s out for sure before I let my head drop to the table top and close my eyes. What the fuckity fuck is going on with my mind?
My sister Gigi believes in harassing me via all available media if I don’t reply to her text messages and don’t return her phone calls, apparently.
Including appearing in person on my doorstep.
It’s dark outside when I let her in, rubbing at my eyes. I’d fallen asleep on top of my laptop in bed. When you’re tired, don’t decide to work in bed. Take it from me: big mistake.
Especially when every sleeping moment seems to consist of nightmares.
“Wassup, sis?” I scratch at my jaw. Man, I need a shave, badly. “Whatcha doing here? Where’s Jarett?”
“Rett’s at home, and that’s where I’m heading, after I’ve talked to you.”
“Okay…” The determined glint in her eye puts me on edge.
“You weren’t answering your phone.”
“I fell asleep. Not a crime, is it?”
She reaches up and pats my arm. She used to ruffle my hair, but I’ve grown much taller in the past two years. “You look exhausted, Merc.”
“I’m good.” I try to think. “Why are you here? Is everything all right?”
“Yes.” She fluffs up her long hair and smiles happily. Her eyes take on a dreamy sheen. “Yes, everything’s fine.”
“Lovestruck.” I grin. “The look becomes you, sis.”
She mock-punches me in the chest. “Oh shut up, you. I just wanted to check on you. We’ve barely seen you since you moved out.”
“You know me. All study, no play.”
“Should I believe that? What about the girl? Did you get the girl, Merc?”
Racking my brain, trying to remember if I ever told her about Cos. “What girl?”
“Oh come on, I’m not stupid. You’ve been moody like hell for the past year, you’ve dropped hints and I know you’ve talked to Matt. Also, you look less miserable these days. Pissy like a wet cat, granted, but not sad.”
“Compliments will get you nowhere,” I tell her.
“Ergo,” she continues, ignoring me, “you scored. Right?”
Yeah… but that sounds wrong. “Her name’s Cosima. We’re…” What, dating? Sounds so formal for all the sex and laughs and late-night movie marathons. “We’re together.”
Gigi looks delighted. “Oh boy. You’ve got it bad!” And before I can protest, she claps her hands, like a three-year-old. “Tell me about her!”
I’m not sure I should, not yet. I dunno what’s this thing we have going, and she’s mine. It’s a strangely possessive feeling.
But it’s Gigi, and she always gets her way, so I find myself talking about Cos, seated at the kitchen table and drinking strong coffee.
There goes any chance of sleeping tonight.
I tell Gigi how Cosima is funny, interesting, sexy. How she likes sci-fi movies and rock music and reads a lot, how she knows about mythology and foreign countries and…
And I really sound like a love-struck idiot.
Yeah, I can’t hide how I feel. Happy. Giddy.
Jesus Christ.
“So…” she says what feels like hours later. “When can I meet this girl who stole your heart?”
I laugh.
“Look, my pretext for wanting to talk to you is that Mom is inviting us all Sunday to lunch. I said I’d let you know.” She winks. “Invite Cosima, too.”
Now I’ve told Gigi about Cos, I’d love her to meet everyone. But… “I don’t wanna scare her off.”
“Come on, Mercurius. We’re not uncivilized. We’ll play nice.”
I shoot her a doubtful look. Can I trust that? Last thing I want is Cos running again. My family’s fucking great, but they can be a bi
t overbearing sometimes—like Gigi now.
“I’ll ask,” I say in the end. “She’s got a lot going on right now.”
“Do that. And be there on Sunday.” She flutters her lashes. “I’ll have an announcement to make.”
I have a pretty good idea what it could be, but she says she’s in a hurry to go, so I don’t even get a chance to tease her about it.
Whatever it is, she looks happy, and that’s good enough for me.
A box of chocolates in one hand, I ring her doorbell. She’s obviously going through a tough time. She’s close to her sister, and the wait for news is wearing her down, so I’ll be a gentleman and keep my dick in my pants, hold and comfort her any way I can until things go back to normal.
But when Cos opens her door for me, I’m not prepared for the wave of lust that hits me. She’s only wearing lacy black boyshorts and a bra that pushes up the pale mounds of her tits, and a transparent black shirt on top of it all.
Whoa baby. My dick rises in salute so fast I wince. “Cos…”
“Come on in.” She steps back and walks inside, hips swaying just a little, that heart-shaped ass hypnotizing as I follow her.
I bet I have goddamn hearts winking in my eyes, like in the cartoons.
X-rated, adult cartoons.
She leads me through the living room, and the kitten winds up between my legs, almost throwing me off balance. I can’t stop staring at this girl, my girl, all other thought gone from my head—anything but to haul her against me and kiss her and make love to her.
She takes the box from my hands, places it on the kitchen table. Her smile is sweet. “Thank you.”
Don’t mention it, I think, but my throat is dry. I swallow hard, watching her tits as she breathes, watch them rise and fall.
I’m so damn hard for her.
“I have something for you, too.”
She does? But before I can formulate a response, she grabs my hand and leads me to the sofa, then gives me a small shove between the pecs and I sit down with an exhale.
She goes to her knees, between my legs, and starts unzipping my jeans, hands brushing over my hard-on that’s trapped painfully beneath the denim.
I catch her wrist. “Cos?”
