Odd Melody (Odd Series Book 2)

by Nelson, Virginia

  I fed.

  He pushed harder.

  I rocked against him, but with clothes between us, the connection only mocked what my body cried out for. I screamed into his mouth and tore at his hair.

  He ate my scream.

  While I fed, the cocoon of light formed fully around us, but I remained unfulfilled. His need wrapped me like a hunger. I rubbed my face against his like a cat, and I slid a hand down between us.

  “No.” He caught my wrist. “You’re drunk on power. I won’t take what you won’t offer me without it.”

  “Since when are you so moral?” I sounded bitter, angry. I turned my face from his. I wanted space from this, from him. He had grown too close. He was so much more than I had thought. How could I hate him if he didn’t do evil manipulative things while he kept giving the right answers like that one?

  “Since I realized you needed me to be.” He spoke with a sigh. “Believe me, it’s really not much fun for me, either.”

  “What made you…?” I trailed off and could not finish. I wanted to know what had driven him to say sorry, to beg. It couldn’t be only that I had touched him without feeding. It couldn’t be that easy. I turned to see if the answer was reflected in the glass green of his eyes when he did not respond, but his face, although inches from mine, was turned away.

  He finally turned back when I waited long enough. As mysterious and green as the depths of the sea, his eyes burned me with their intensity, creating an inexplicable ache. “I told you, I am coming to need your touch as much as you need mine. As you need to feed, I need…something from you. It is simpler and more complex all at once. I have never asked for anything from anyone before. With you, I find I’m at a disadvantage. I am sorry. I had no other solution. I did not want to hurt you. Or have you fear me.”

  I arched a brow and my hips in one move. His breath hissed out and his fingers clutched at my hips to still the restless movements. His thumb grazed one of the siren marks while doing it, which did not help him still my body.

  “I do not fear anyone.” My voice dropped breathy and soft, and my eyes were half-lidded.

  He bit my jaw line. “I noticed.”

  I slid my hands up his chest and the connection told me his tenuous control had slipped a bit. His mouth came down on mine and behind my eyes light danced.

  His body weight crushed me and our power pulsed together. I felt for him down the line connecting us, heart to heart. He was there. When I caught him in the soul mate line as well as holding him and kissing him physically, something new happened.

  Suddenly we linked in a way that we had not been before. It equaled a lifetime of conversations in one moment. Like I knew all that he was and had ever been all at once. And he knew me.

  My breath came faster, and I wrapped my legs around him and dug my nails into his back.

  He arched into me, pressing his heat and strength to my softness. “Janie!”

  He knew about James and my marriage, and my life with my mother, and all the dirty bits I had hid from everyone else. It all happened in one long rush. I did not know how to pull it back or stop it any more than I knew how to control any of my new powers.

  I sensed him struggle to control it, but I had the wheel and I drove. I pressed my foot on the gas and spun the tires recklessly. I knew suddenly what he hadn’t told me. Each time I fed from him, I strengthened the soul mate link, reaffirming our bond. It had always been there, even before we recognized it, but the closer we got, the stronger the link became. Like walking a path through the forest, the first traveling might knock aside a couple of tree limbs and disturb the underbrush. But if someone kept traveling the same path, it became well worn. Eventually a regular walkway, clear of all impediments, appeared. So it went with the soul mate principal apparently.

  He had allowed me to make a regular bridge between us. He played the game only to make me feel better while I cleared the path. He was winning by default, and it did not matter if he followed my rules in between. He would win by not doing anything except letting me continue to move pieces on the board.

  In his mind, I saw his plan, clear as a blueprint that had been drawn up and laid out for me. I also saw the double-edged sword. When it had begun, he’d coldly calculated how to achieve the desired result. I had not been much more than a means to that end, a way to satisfy his bone deep loneliness and increase his power base. I was a way to more power because separate, we were monsters—my word, not his—but together we became the ultimate monster. Nothing would stand against us if we combined.

  Since he had begun, however, the path had grown worn both ways. He needed me to call to him as much as I needed him to come when I called. His breath caught as he felt me know this, and his fingers dug into me. He needed to smell my skin, like the ocean and the air over the sea. He needed to taste the salty sweetness of it and feel my power graze his. He needed to see my eyes change from storm tossed blue and go black with hunger he was only too willing to feed.

  Hunger…The hunger, the starving grinding ravenousness between us made him ache, almost driving him mad. He needed my body, almost drowning in pure desire for me, Janie Smith, the ordinary and extraordinary.

  The twin aches, his for me, and mine for him, nearly overwhelmed me, and my hands tore at him. My mouth went wild on him for a moment. I heard little groaning sounds and wondered what they were then realized they came from me. He tried to get my clothes off and I tried to think past our twin needs, our throbbing hungers, which left me wet and insatiable.

  Something seemed very wrong, and I would be able to think of it if I could just escape the raw desire the path had opened…oh, the feel of his hands on my…stroking and grasping. “Chance.” It was more of a moan than actual speech.

  “Please, Janie, I said I was sorry.”

  Clarity returned. I snapped my eyes open. I shoved at his hands and searched those eyes. “You said you were sorry for draining me. What about planning sabotage?”

  “You are meant to be what you are, not human.”

  “What about lying to me?”

  “That was on the same day.” He grew still. His hold on me slipped as my anger rose. The connection through the line snapped, but the line itself held solid. He controlled that.

  “How about the fact you knew the game wouldn’t stop anything, so long as I kept feeding off you?”

  He met my gaze. His eyes flashed gold. “You didn’t complain much while I fed you.”

  I slapped him. The sound of it echoed loud in the silence of the closed bar. I lay beneath him breathing hard and, in the silence after the slap faded, my breathing was the only sound. His face stayed where it had stopped when I had slapped him and the red of my handprint glowed in stark relief against his pale skin.

  I stared at it. He turned back and the cocoon shattered in white fragments to fall around us. He continued to stare down at my face and did not move. I refused to meet his eyes. I stared at my handprint.

  He waited. “Not going to apologize?”

  I still did not move. I concentrated on inhaling and exhaling. My clothes were askew and I lay beneath a man I had practically stripped to the waist. I had nothing to be sorry for. He deserved far more than a slap.

  “Fine.” There was a pop and a shift of air and we arrived on the floor of Odd Stuff. The smell of dust and incense replaced spilled beer and cheap perfume. I stared up at him with growing horror and finally met his gaze.

  He wore a shirt with most of the buttons popped off. I had pulled the material from one arm and tugged the other side down to the elbow. His pants were unsnapped and he nestled between my legs. My shirt bunched around my waist and his hair stuck out in a tousled mess. I had at least managed to stay fully dressed. An assortment of claw marks streaked down his back with a particularly noticeable set adorning his chest. Not to mention the red slap mark still fresh on his face. His lips were red and swollen, and I am sure mine looked the same, if not worse.

  We had the appearance of two people who had been doing exactly
what we had been doing.

  And he had popped us into Odd Stuff. He leaned down and I froze. I could not move.

  “Explain this away, lover.” His voice was an angry whisper intended for only me. He stood and turned to the front of the store slowly guaranteeing that everyone saw his chest. My face flamed.

  Then he popped out of the room.

  I lay on the floor and wished he would teach me how to do that. I wished I could seep into the wooden planks beneath me. However, since I was not that terribly clever, all I could do was stand up, brush myself off, and face the proverbial music.

  Mia stood, jaw dropped, looking much better. Her hair was smoother and her curls were back in place. Her cheeks no longer flushed with fever and her eyes had lost the bloodshot glow. Vickie stood next to her with Frank beside her, beaming at me.

  Crap, crap, double crap!

  Vickie had blond hair again. She was neither tattooed nor did she have a tail. She was a normal little girl with a normal curiosity. She tilted her head, but instead of scrutinizing me or peppering me with questions I wouldn’t be able to answer, she studied the empty spot where Chance had popped out. “Where’d he go?”

  Okay, at least she picked a question I could answer. “I don’t know where Chance goes.” But I did. Now I knew exactly what Chance did all the time. Well, most of it. He still had shields. I felt them. Some things I could not see, even when I thought I had full access. I wondered if he had encountered the same problem in my mind in our fast forwarded knowledge sharing.

  So where he had gone now that I had wounded him, I wasn’t sure. I had the best guess of anyone around though. He probably wasn’t fond of the fact I knew so much about him. I sensed him, as if he was still here, and I could almost touch his fury. That was new. Nope, he wasn’t fond at all.

  Good. I was not terribly happy with him, either.

  “So, who was that?” My daughter twirled a lock of gold hair around one finger.

  “Chance.” Monosyllables are definitely my friend.

  “Hmm.” And she let it go. Had I not wanted her to let it go, I probably would have questioned her reaction more. Sometimes, I let things slide with Vickie that I regret later. I hoped the subject of Chance would not fall onto that list.

  Turning to Mia, I changed the topic. “Thanks for fixing Vickie.”

  “No problem.” I could tell there was a lot she was not saying because Vickie was there. I could help with that.

  “Hey, Vickie. Will you go get me a drink of water?”

  “Yeah.” Vickie’s smile was too cheerful.

  I decided not to question it. Her cheerful nature should have struck me as odd. I, unfortunately, forgot that as my daughter Vickie is not altogether human and that Old Mother mentioned that she had the Sight. Right then, I was happy she agreed to go upstairs.

  As soon as Vickie trotted upstairs, I turned to Mia. “I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

  “Actually, it wasn’t your fault.” Her voice was oddly hesitant, and I walked closer and looked at her and the muse in askance.

  Then she punched Frank in the arm in a friendly way. He picked up his coffee and sipped, smiling at us both like a kid with a good secret.

  I smiled back waiting for him to share.

  “What?” He spoke in his nasal, demure voice, which grated on my frayed nerves. “I am a muse. I am an inspiration. I can’t take all the credit. I inspired you to an all new level of power. It’s how I roll. You don’t have to thank me.”

  He smiled at me. He waited.

  I stood, very still for a moment and then I studied my options. He stood maybe a foot away. I thought very carefully about possible responses. “Do you mean to say that you pissed me off so that what happened would happen to bring me to a higher level of power? That you intended to push me?”

  “Yes.” The muse practically beamed at me, seeming thrilled I was catching on. “And it worked. You simply vibrated with power, and he could barely control you and, well, as I said, no thanks needed.”

  Mia shrieked as he fell.

  I only hit him. I figured that by cold cocking him, I could get a bit of revenge, but not attract Chance back for round two of siren vs. alien. I mean, I was not losing control of my powers with my temper. I was not using my powers at all.

  I stared at the prone muse as Avery entered through the back of the store. “Who knocked out the muse?”

  Apparently, Mia had been inspired, too. She had fixed Mufasa while I had connected with Chance on all new and terrible levels.

  Mia, kneeling by her inspiration, pointed at me with one accusing and sparkling finger.

  Avery came over and gave me a high five.

  I don’t think muses are popular in the paranormal world. Being inspired might be wonderful. However it was nice to choose how one got to be inspired.

  I glared at the man on the floor. I was probably a hard sell, so it wasn’t entirely his fault. Not that I intended to say I was sorry.

  I stepped over him and went upstairs.

  CHAPTER Eleven

  Sven agreed to babysit for the evening so that Mia, Avery, Frank, and I could go Harbor Hammer hunting. I wanted Mia to go and, as she was still sick to some extent, she wanted Frank to come. I wasn’t terribly fond of the notion, since he could have just fixed her. In her opinion, he could inspire us to find the Hammer.

  I also wasn’t fond of bringing Avery, either. But since he had gotten nearly eaten and spent an entire day out of commission, he seemed to think he had time to make up for. Consequently, he shadowed me pretty hard. I think he would have followed me into the bathroom, had I allowed it.

  So, off we paraded. I had changed into my siren wear, a pair of boot cut jeans and a lingerie-style, silk shirt done in a shade of nearly black red. Over that, I wore a short, black, leather jacket, which couldn’t have been more feminine in its cut and had a corset style back. The jeans had red silk cutouts in the pockets, which tied the outfit together without matching too much. The black boots provided a concession to the weather, but the three inch heels on the snow and ice covered sidewalks could prove lethal if I fell on my butt.

  Altogether though, I felt like someone other than Janie Smith when I dressed in siren clothes. I mussed the silver hair. Styling it was out, other than that. Chance had funded the makeover, but then again I would not have needed a makeover if it had not been for Chance. For the second time, I felt him as if he stood beside me. Right there, breathing on my neck and whispering in my ear. And if I hadn’t?

  I shut that link down as fast as it had opened and shut him out. The easy connection had to be some sort of side effect of whatever I had done earlier. I did not like it.

  Mia stared at me funny so I put on a big smile and sped up my walk. We entered Brennan’s as our starting point, apt as it was where I’d left off the night before. A wave of sound pulsed around us, music and laughter, talk and the hum of humans in general.

  The sun had only begun to set. Vance had probably not awakened yet. How long after he rose would someone tell him that I had landed in the middle of Odd Stuff with a half-naked man on top of me in a compromising position? Would he believe whoever shared that damning information?

  Chance teased at my mind again, and I wondered if the connection went two ways. I searched for him down that treacherous line. He stood in water. Hot and steamy, it sluiced down his body in rivulets. He must have been showering, a terribly ordinary thing for him to be doing. His hands slid down his smooth, firm chest, trailing bubbles. I watched and I saw—

  When he felt me spying, he reached out and snagged me before I could escape. I went blind. I stopped dead in my tracks. I could see nothing in the room that physically surrounded me. All I could see was the wall of the shower and Chance’s lean strong hand.

  “You want to play?” He spoke out loud, his voice breathless and a little shocked because like me, he did not know until he had done it that he could reach through the line. His voice echoed in my head and his head and out loud, and I stood, blind and s
till, in a bar because if I moved, I would have fallen or hit someone or worse.

  I could hear the sounds of the bar. But my eyes could only take in the shower and the hand that rested on the wet, tiled wall. I could see only what he saw. I gritted my teeth. I had no idea how to make him let me go again.

  “Do you like this?” His hand and his eyes dropped to his soapy chest, and he slid the hand lower.

  I sucked in a breath. I couldn’t help it. “No.” I said it aloud because I wasn’t sure how to talk to him otherwise. I had to look pretty dumb, standing blind in a bar, talking to myself. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  He glided the hand lower and for the first time I saw him, or rather the rock hard, intimate pieces of him. Captive and captivated, my eyes followed the path his did, all choice on my part gone because I saw through his eyes. Not, mind you, that it was a terribly offensive view.

  My breath quickened. I had no choice there either. And when he closed that hand around himself, I trembled where I stood, blind and suddenly dumb as well. Oh, so eager to see, yet so afraid to cross that barrier.

  “Please,” I whispered when I found my voice. Then I pleaded in my head, hoping he could hear me. Don’t make me beg.

  “For this?”

  The question and his voice grated across my sensitized nerves. He tightened the hand and moved it in one long jerk. Through the connection, my hand traveled the length of his smooth, hot skin. When he touched himself, he stroked not only himself, but my body as well. Perhaps I simply felt what he felt. Either way, my face went hot. My body tightened and grew moist, and my heart sped.

  I fought to remain still, but my hips jerked slightly when he tugged as if he controlled my body rather than his own. I tried desperately to not move or speak or look any stranger than I did.

  Not here. Not now. I did not do this on purpose.

  I watched because he watched as the hand moved. I felt because he felt. I needed. I wasn’t sure I could blame the last one entirely on him. I wanted something to lean on.