They creep near to watch over his shoulder.
Devon nods and shoots her a warm smile. “Not bad.”
Happiness bubbles up inside her, and she hugs Devon.
His arms grasp her, and then his hands wander across her back, through her hair. His lips seek hers, and their mouths meet in an explosion of white heat that sends waves of excitement throughout her body.
“Oh Melinda,” he moans, kissing her cheek, her ear, her neck.
He leans his forehead against hers. “Do you know why I took this assignment?”
“Because you needed to redeem yourself with the Elders?” She doesn’t want to let go. His hips fit so perfectly against hers.
“Well, yes, that’s what they said. But I laughed, and turned them down. Then they showed me your holographic images. I felt as if a spell had been cast over me. When I first saw you at the MuseFest, I knew for certain you were more than an assignment.”
She tilts her head. “Do you mean that?”
His lips brush hers. “Oh yes.” His fingers investigate her buttons. “I think you’re amazing.”
Her happy bubble pops when she realizes what her victory means -- he will leave. “He does seem to be on a roll now. I couldn’t have gotten him there without your help.”
Melinda searches his dark eyes – how they spark, how they invite and challenge. To look at him is to be distracted, to be infused with layers of ideas and prismatic light, brain synapses firing rapidly, sparks shooting across her brain. How much is inspiration, how much hormones, she can’t discern. But Devon’s very palpable presence demands attention, and action.
Oh, she doesn’t want him to leave. “You’re good for him. He’s already done more for you than he has for me in a month.”
Devon kisses her cheek. “For us, you mean. I think he needs us both.”
“Both?” She’s reduced to parroting his words, her own having been silenced by shockwaves radiating from the epicenter of Devon’s palms on the small of her back.
“Yes.” His smile is seductive in its honesty. “We’ll be like his parents. Your yin to my yang, your sweet to my sour – we balance each other. Separately, our powers are only half as effective. He needs us both.”
Melinda returns his smile. “You can be pretty intense.”
He touches his nose to hers. “And you can be a tad mellow. But,” he cuts off her argument, “we’re both elements of energy. Fire and wind can be complementary, can fuel each other, keep each other in check.”
She knows he’s right but doesn’t want to tell him so. She’s willing to provide the fuel for positive energy to propel her student. Not to fuel Devon’s ego.
He slips an arm around her shoulder. “Come on, let’s take a walk. Give the kid a break for awhile.”
She glances at her student – their student – who yawns, walks to his bed and pulls a pillow over his head.
Melinda blushes at Devon’s lecherous look then tucks a stray wisp of blond behind her ear. “Where are we going?”
Deep in his eyes, she sees lights like a far-off carnival. Her belly flutters as if she were riding a roller coaster.
He tugs her closer. “We can go anywhere, do anything – float among the clouds, sail the moon across the sky. You dream it, we’ll do it.”
She smiles. “I do have a few ideas.”
The student groans; a bulge grows under his bedsheet.
Delight fills Devon’s face. “I never doubted it. Let’s go.”
They dissolve in a spray of miniature fireworks. Rainbow glittery bits hang in the air like a dazzling mist, then flicker, falling across the student, soaking into his skin. His pores drink it in like a million tiny fishes’ mouths, feeding his bloodstream, emptying into the gulf of his brain. There, words collide, shimmy, line up in phrases, sentences, stringing themselves like pearls, like Chinese lanterns, like peace flags.
The student curls into his pillow and smiles, dreaming of laughing flames tickled by dancing winds.
****
Sitting in the branches of a tree outside the student’s apartment, Euterpe aims a smug smile at Calliope. “You lose.”
Calliope shrugs. “I never intended to win.”
“Oh no. You can’t get out of it. You’re going to the concert. I haven’t been in too long, and I need to, uh, check up on this particular student.” She scuffs her golden sandal along the tree bark.
Calliope waves. “Please. You’re talking to me, remember? I know you have the hots for this ‘student’. Besides, who said I didn’t want to go? I love Eddie Vedder. Talk about a muse.” She winks.
“Oh, girlfriend,” Euterpe says. “You know me too well.”
A swirl of glittering light envelops them, flashing hues of blue, green and purple, more beautiful than the Aurora Borealis. The strains of a rich baritone echo through the night, mixed with two ancient sighs.
###
About the Author
Cate Masters has made beautiful central Pennsylvania her home, but will always be a Jersey girl at heart. A lover of all great writing, she aspires to entertain and enthrall with her own stories. Most days, she can be found in her lair, concocting a magical brew of fantasy/paranormal, contemporary and historical stories with her cat, Chairman Maiow, and dog Lily as company. Look for her at http://catemasters.blogspot.com, Facebook, Goodreads, and in strange nooks and far-flung corners of the web.
Cate loves to hear from readers. Email her at: cate.masters AT gmail.com.
Duende and the Muse Page 3
