by Amy Patrick
“Wait—Anders. Can you… wait… a minute? Please?”
He didn’t lift his head, just kept nuzzling my neck and collar bone and shoulder as he responded in a raspy voice. “What’s the matter? Am I too heavy? My little pixie…” he crooned, shifting a bit to take some of the weight of his body from me.
“No. It’s not that, it’s… could you stop that for a minute so I can think?” I begged.
“Stop what?” he whispered, pressing his lips to the base of my neck and dragging them down so the top of my sleep shirt stretched and revealed my upper chest.
I placed a hand on his shoulder, exerting gentle pressure. “That—right there, what you’re doing with your mouth. It’s very… distracting, and I want to talk to you a minute.”
Finally he lifted his head, his eyelids looking heavy, and the rest of his face looking very, very happy. Wow. Is this what they called “bedroom eyes?” They were quite distracting.
Belatedly responding to my plea, Anders rolled to his side again, not moving far away, but staying close and keeping one hand on my hip through the sheet. He dipped his face to bring his eyes even with mine.
“What’s wrong? Are you too tired?”
“No. Not exactly.” Actually I felt like a live wire, charged with enough nervous energy to light up the entire Strip should the electrical power fail. “It’s just… I’m not sure we’re prepared for this.”
His brows pulled together then relaxed as he understood—or thought he did. “We don’t have to worry about condoms. We’re both virgins, so STD’s aren't an issue, and it’s basically impossible for me to get you pregnant the first time. Maybe you don’t know this, but Elves have major reproductive ‘challenges.’ It takes bonded couples decades—sometimes a century or more to conceive.”
“But I’m not Elven. I’m human.”
“I think the same rule would still apply. Hmmm… actually, I should ask Hakan, our court’s healer about that one. Anyway, the odds against it are so high I don’t think even Vegas would take the bet.”
He moved toward me to kiss me again, as if the issue was settled.
I put a palm on his chest. “That isn’t even my concern.”
“So what is?”
“Well, I mean…” I blushed as I said it. “We haven’t even said, ‘I love you’ or anything. It seems strange to be taking this step without any sort of…”
Now he rocked back and regarded me with a look of exasperation. “If it’s commitment you’re worried about, there isn’t any bigger commitment I can make. I literally cannot bond with another person after I bond with you, so you’ve got me for life. I’d never leave. And as far as the ‘love’ thing goes, we already talked about that. You know I care about you. You’re one of my best friends, I’m crazy-attracted to you, and I really like being with you.”
He brought a fingertip up to stroke my cheek. “It doesn’t matter if we don’t have the whole mythical true-love-soul-mates thing. It’s the perfect relationship—mutually beneficial. I’m going to stay with you forever, take care of you, treat you like the treasure you are. And if you’ll let me… hopefully give you a lot of pleasure. Or at least I will once I get some practice under my belt. I promise to keep trying until I get it right.”
He offered a persuasive smile. “I’ll be a good bond-mate. I’ll make you happy.”
Studying his sincere face, I was conflicted. Inside I knew the only thing that could make me completely happy was also completely impossible—having Nic back.
But maybe I could have happiness-light. Maybe a friendship-with-benefits-for-life with Anders would be the next best thing. He certainly seemed to want it. Enough to make an eternally-binding decision here and now. I couldn’t help but be flattered.
“And you’re sure it’s going to be enough for you?”
“I am sure. You’re the one who keeps making excuses. The question is—are you sure?”
I hesitated, but then I said, “Yeah. I think so.” When he tried to draw me against his body again, I added hastily, “But I do want to use a condom. You never know about that baby thing.”
He grinned ruefully, letting his chin drop to his chest. And then he chuckled. “Okay, you win.” After a second, he rolled from the bed and re-adjusted his clothes, grabbing his wallet from the TV stand.
“Wait—are you leaving? Where are you going?” Had I hurt his feelings? Made him angry? The thought freaked me out—he was my best and only friend these days.
He extended a hand as if to help me out of bed. “To find a drugstore. And you’re coming with me.”
I took his hand and let him pull me up. “Why?”
“Let’s call it a… test. Something to make sure you actually want to do this thing. If we get to the drugstore to the ‘family planning’ aisle and you can’t pull the trigger on buying condoms, then I’ll have my answer.”
In the elevator on the way to the lobby, I thought about what Anders had said. It was a good test. And it was extremely understanding and honorable of him to suggest it. A lot of guys would’ve dashed from the room and come back with condoms as quickly as possible, purposely not giving me time to re-consider. He really did care about me. Maybe that was more important in a life partner than actually being “in love?”
I turned to him as the car descended. “You know what?”
“What?”
“You’re a really good guy.”
He broke into a surprised smile. “Thanks.”
“No, I mean it. And what I said in New Orleans—I actually meant it. You are pretty perfect.”
His eyes warmed with genuine happiness. That made me feel good. I stretched my arms up around his neck and looked him directly in the eye, standing on my tiptoes to get closer to my target. “Any girl would consider herself very lucky to be with you, Anders. I’m lucky.”
He dipped his head down to position his mouth right over mine, not touching but hovering just out of reach. “No,” he whispered. “I’m the lucky one, remember?”
And then our lips met in a sweet, warm, very “mutually beneficial” kiss. We pulled apart as the elevator doors opened. I hadn’t even realized we’d reached the lobby. Still looking into Anders’ eyes, I giggled.
He grinned at me, stretching a hand toward the control panel. “Want me to push the button for the top floor?”
Laughing, I raised a brow suggestively. “No. I have a test to ace—come on. Let’s go shopping.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice. After you, my lady.”
I turned to get off the elevator and stutter-stepped, my heart shrinking to atom-size then expanding to the point of bursting within the space of a half-second. There was a man there—standing in front of the bench opposite the elevator banks, and he… he…
My legs re-discovering their ability to function, I ran into the small lobby, turning one direction and then another. He was gone.
Anders followed close on my heels. “What is it? Did you see someone from the Ancient Court?” He gripped my shoulders, turning me to face him. “Macy—what is it?”
“Did you see that guy?” I sounded asthmatic.
“What guy?”
“There was a guy—outside the elevator. He… I don’t know.”
Anders looked perturbed. “I didn’t see anyone. Did he get on one of the other elevators? What did he look like?”
Nic. That’s what he looked like. After this past year of feeling like he was with me everywhere I went, now I was actually seeing his ghost. I couldn’t say that to Anders, though.
“Well?” he demanded, his expression on high alert for danger. “Was he Elven? Could you tell?”
“I…” I shook my head. “Yes. I think so. He was very tall, (like Nic) dark-haired, (like Nic) with a tanned, olive complexion.” Like Nic’s. “And he had a beard.”
Anders seemed to relax a fraction. “Oh. Well, Elves don't typically wear facial hair. Maybe it was another hotel guest. He probably got onto one of the other elevators as we got off ours.”
I craned my neck back toward the bank of elevators, searching the closed doors for answers. I was starting to feel dizzy. My stomach turned in a nauseating flip.
“Maybe. I guess so.”
That made sense. But why was my heart burning like a bucket of acid had been poured directly into my chest cavity? Why had my brain nearly exploded when my eyes had connected for a split-second with that dark, intense gaze?
I closed my eyes and breathed, dismay creeping in and replacing the adrenaline that had flooded my veins. I was still so messed up.
I’m not over him. Not at all.
How could I do this with Anders—go on this “shopping excursion” when the mere glimpse of a man who resembled Nic was enough to throw my entire body and mind into a frenzy?
“Macy—are you okay?” Anders sounded truly concerned now. Not that there was any danger here in the lobby—he’d obviously ruled that out—but that there was a problem with me—inside of me. He was right.
“I’m fine. No, actually, I’m not. Listen, I think I am too tired to go out right now. Or maybe I’m sick or something. Can I get a re-take on the test maybe?”
His brow creased. “Of course. Don’t even worry about that. Come on, let’s go back up. All you need is a good night’s sleep—without some idiot waking you up and pouring money on you and trying to seduce you in the wee hours of the morning.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I should be shot.”
“No, Anders, it’s not you,” I protested as he led me back onto a waiting elevator. “It’s me.”
Now his laugh was a bit more pronounced. “That’s usually my line. Come here.”
He drew me against his side, wrapping a comforting arm around my shoulders. Feeling drained, I rested my head on his chest. “You’re not mad?”
“Of course not,” he said, and his tone told me he meant it. “Above all else, Macy, I am your friend. Whatever’s wrong we’ll fix it.”
“My friend,” I repeated. He was my friend. And I believed he sincerely wanted to help. Unfortunately, what was wrong with me, no one could ever fix.
13
Nic
I staggered down the walkway and through the blinking, blaring machines past the blackjack tables, bumping into people without apologizing, fighting to stay on my feet and not collapse, trying to reach the back entrance of the casino without actually knowing how to get there.
It’s too late.
At long last I’d found Macy. And it was too late.
When the elevator doors had first opened, I’d forced my bleary eyes upward to do a perfunctory check of its occupants, not really expecting anything after doing this very thing hundreds of times today with no results.
It was a couple—a tall guy and a short girl—but the wrong one. This girl had platinum hair and the guy was dark-headed. They were kissing. Happy. In love. Lucky bastards.
But then the girl had giggled, and I’d recognized the voice in an instant. Bolting to my feet, I’d stared, cataloguing everything about her to be certain. And then she’d turned to face me. For a split second I’d seen her eyes. Those eyes. The eyes I’d dreamed of nightly, desperate to see them once more, desperate to see myself in them. A silent scream had ricocheted through my body, bouncing off my bones and shredding my organs.
The next thing I knew my feet were moving. Nox had been right. It was too late. Macy had moved on and fallen in love with someone else. A moan built in my chest, demanding I let it out, pounding at the insides of my head and pressing against my eardrums. Reaching the casino exit I burst through the doors to the sidewalk and shouted. Actually, it might have been more of a roar. I couldn’t hold it in. The emotions roiling inside me were two powerful, too violent to contain.
People moved away from me on the sidewalk. The crowd was not thick this early in the morning, but there were still pedestrians about. They gave me plenty of space and some wide-eyed looks.
“He’s insane,” one woman muttered to her boyfriend.
I didn’t argue, and I didn’t take insult. She was right. I was insane—with grief. With loss. With a sense of disappointment so dense it felt like a heavy metal beam trying to crush me into the cement. Lowering my head, I ran down the sidewalk, away from the observers.
Away. I had to get away.
I ran until I reached the end of the Strip and stood staring at the entrance to the Stratosphere tower. Tipping my head back, I looked up and fought to catch my breath. From this close angle, I couldn’t see its famous needle-like top. A nearby sign proclaimed it the tallest structure in Las Vegas and the highest free-standing observation tower in the U.S. It also advertised the Air Bar, the highest bar in the city.
Yes. That’s what I need.
In my current state I wasn’t sure which I needed more—the “air” part—or the bar. I stepped inside, vaguely conscious of my wild appearance. My hair was windblown from running the two miles here, I was soaked with sweat, my suit was no doubt ruined, and who knew what my eyes looked like. I knew what they felt like. They felt like they were holding back a body of saline worthy of the Hoover Dam.
I’ve lost her.
That’s all I could think, the words repeating again and again as I rode the elevator to the top. When I reached it, I found the Air Bar and outdoor observation deck both had closed at two. I laughed quietly to myself. It was probably for the best that I be nowhere near a tower ledge at this moment. The enclosed Sky Lounge was still open, though, and that’s where I went.
It was actually quite busy. The interior was dark and noisy with the sounds of pounding dance music and people talking, and laughing, and dancing. New York was apparently not the only American city that never slept.
Finding an open barstool, I ordered a tequila neat and stared out at the view of the Las Vegas city lights. Macy was down there. With him. The pain sliced a new opening in my chest. I wouldn’t be surprised to find my cocktail leaking out of it when I took the first sip.
I had been replaced in her heart while I could not even see another woman, couldn't tolerate the thought of being with someone else. I had known it was a possibility, but I’d been unable to predict how this moment would actually feel.
My plan had been to find her then stay nearby and protect her, whether she still wanted my love or not. But now… did she even need my protection? She’d survived on her own for a year, and she had Anders. I supposed I could be a sort of Phantom of the Opera figure, staying in the shadows and watching her love another guy, waiting and wishing for a change in her situation. But it wasn't even like Anders was human and would eventually die. He was Elven as well. They’d have eternity together, while I spent eternity—alone.
“You look like you lost your best friend,” a soft female voice said.
I jumped a little, becoming aware that someone had taken the stool beside mine at the bar. “Oh. Yes. It’s been a… rather bad night.”
“Oh no,” she cooed, resting a beautifully manicured hand on my forearm. “Did you lose big?”
I nodded. “I have lost everything.”
“Poor guy.” The hand on my arm rubbed in time to her soothing words. “Not everything. You’re still the hottest guy I’ve seen all night, so that’s something. And you sound like you’re foreign, too. Italian?”
“French,” I corrected, though she was partly right. I didn't have the energy to explain.
The rubbing increased and moved from my arm down to my thigh. “I love an accent,” the woman informed me.
Shifting to move my leg away from her, I said, “I’m with—I’m bond—” And there I stopped. I wasn’t with someone. I wasn’t bonded to someone. Well, I was, but she wasn’t bonded to me, so it didn’t matter. I wasn't engaged or married or any of those things that kept men in committed relationships from accepting invitations like the one this woman was clearly extending to me.
I lifted my eyes from my glass to look at her. She was attractive, honey blonde, looked to be in her mid-twenties. She looked tired. I didn’t try to use my glamour on her but
my guard was down thanks to the alcohol and mental stress, not to mention physical exhaustion. The deepest desire of this woman’s heart was to find a good man for a long-lasting relationship.
I inhaled. Exhaled. “You’re looking in the wrong place.”
Her head snapped back, causing her dangly earrings to swing back and forth. “What?”
“For a relationship, for commitment.”
She sat up straight, an offended frown replacing the seductive pout she’d worn at first. “I don't know what you’re talking about. I only want to have some fun.”
I shook my head. “No. You want a long-term relationship with a man who’ll love you and treat you well. You’re lonely and tired of waiting, and you hoped by coming here tonight and wearing that skimpy dress and offering someone your body for the night you might be able to fast-track it and find what you’ve been longing for. But it hasn’t happened yet. Now it’s nearly four am, closing time, and you’re becoming desperate. But it’s not going to work. There is no fast-track. Even if you find someone to go home with, you’re only going to wind up hurt and disappointed.”
She slid off the stool in a furious movement and picked up her half-full drink, tossing its contents in my face. Hers was red and shaking.
“You’re a jerk! What—do you think you’re psychic or something? You don’t know anything about me. Weirdo.” She spun and stalked away.
The bartender handed me a stack of napkins to dry off with, the bored expression on his face never changing. “It always gets crazy around closing time,” he told me. “You want one more before last call?”
I shook my head with a wave and slid from the stool, pulling a few bills from my wallet and laying them on the counter. “Thanks,” I said.
“Yeah.” Then he saw my ridiculous overpayment. “Oh—wow. Thank you. You have a good night. Listen, it’s gonna get better,” he added. “This is Vegas. Your luck could change at any time.”
I nodded and shuffled toward the door. He was a nice guy. He meant well. He was wrong. I had been dealt the worst hand of all time. To find the love of your life and have her ripped from you before you could ever really begin your lives together was worse than never having found love at all. And now it would never happen. For all practical purposes, my life was over.
