by Angie Sandro
The smell from the kitchen makes my mouth water. I want to go see what Landry’s cooking up, but I’m too comfortable. The effort of rising has gone way beyond my skill level. It involves too many coordinating skills, like walking. Not crashing into a wall because I’m sleepwalking.
Next thing I know, I’m waking up to the sun shining in through the open balcony door. Landry must’ve carried me to bed. Blankets pulled up to my neck make it difficult to turn. I lie there, taking in the breath-stealing vision of the large bedroom in the daylight. It’s even more magnificent than the night before, and I pinch myself to be sure I’m not still dreaming. The heat warming my backside shifts, and I freeze. I slide a hand beneath the blanket and feel behind me. A hip conforms to the cup of my palm, as does the smooth skin of a bare, muscular back. I trace a finger up the knobs of a spine.
Landry moans.
My heart races like I’ve just outrun the gaping maw of a gator. I roll onto my side so we’re face to face. I can barely calm my breath—all because of the assault on my senses. I inhale the crisp scent of Irish Spring soap and a musky scent that makes me clench my knees together. I wiggle closer and let out a heavy sigh just so I can fill my lungs again.
Landry lies flat on his stomach with his arms folded beneath his pillow to prop up his head. Black hair with a slight blue tint in the morning sunlight falls over the white pillowcase. He looks younger, more innocent asleep. His lips are slightly parted. My gaze lingers on his plump bottom lip then moves upward.
I rub my aching chest. My eyes burn, but I don’t let my tears fall. He removed the eye patch before bed. A scar bisects his eyebrow, the eyelid, and part of his cheek. I did that to him. I’d sacrifice myself a thousand times if I could undo what I’ve done. If I could give him back his sight.
But I can’t. What’s been done can’t be undone. I have to live with the regret. And it burns…an unquenchable fire, radiating outward to burn me from the inside out. I bet this is how it feels to spontaneously combust. Excitement races through me with each breath. Landry’s a freaking pheromone factory, and I’m the spiraling bee.
My finger trembles as I reach out to trace the raised edges of the scar. My heart twists. Mama always kissed my owies “to make them better” whenever I got hurt as a child, and I swear, she had some potent smooches. Course she was usually feeling guilty for being the one who gave me those bruises. Logically I know the pain didn’t really vanish. What made me feel better was she wiped away the hurt by reminding me of her love with those kisses.
What if my kisses have the ability to heal Landry?
Maybe not the external pain, but the internal. God, I hope so. ’Cause if they do, maybe his have the ability to heal me too.
I brush a soft kiss across his eye. The light touch only whets my appetite. I lick my tingling lips. Landry brings a craving up from deep inside of me. He tastes like the sweetest chocolate…the kind you savor in tiny bites that melt on your tongue so the ecstasy lingers. No matter how much you eat, you want more. Like an Easter egg junkie, I press another kiss against the arch of his high cheekbone.
Landry’s breathing quickens. His back arches as he lifts his head to stare at me with an eye of pure silver; no thunderclouds darken his gaze. He rolls onto his side as a hand slides from beneath the pillow. The tips of his fingers trail down the side of my cheek, then wrap around to cup my face. I slowly lean forward, and his breath catches. A slight smile reveals his dimple, but it’s hidden as our lips touch. His grip on my face tightens when I try to pull back, and his other arm wraps around my waist. With a quick roll, he pulls me flush against his bare chest. I gasp, and his tongue steals into my mouth.
Oh God, he tastes so good.
The kiss deepens as his heat soaks into me. I slide my leg over him, and he groans, pulling my body even closer. I can feel each breath, each frantic beat of his heart, and I know he can feel mine because we’re connected in a way I never imagined possible. Never had any idea sensations like this existed, like our souls blended.
How sappy…the thought drifts through my mind, but swiftly disappears.
Cold prickles race across my back, and I shiver.
“What?” Landry whispers huskily against my mouth.
I kiss him hard in answer. His chest heaves as he chuckles but we don’t stop kissing. His palm warms the indentation in the small of my back, which contrasts starkly with the ice seeping into the rest of my flesh. I stiffen, pulling away. My jaw quivers as I try to keep my teeth from chattering.
He stares at me with a concerned frown. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t—” Instinct flares, and I twist. Crap! “Mama?”
Landry rears up, and my forehead cracks against the bridge of his nose. Pain rocks me backward. I reach for Landry, but he’s too busy holding his bleeding nose to catch me before I fall out of the bed in a tangle of blankets.
I stare up at Mama from the floor. She sits in the chair across from the bed with her legs drawn up beneath her nightgown and her chin propped on her knees, like she’s lounging in front of the television watching a romantic comedy.
“Don’t stop on my account,” she says with a wicked smile.
Landry grimaces. “M-Ms. Jasmine, it’s not what you think,” he stutters, crawling from the bed. He has his nose pinched shut with two fingers. A trickle of blood spills across his lips and drips onto the sheets. I peek beneath the blanket and sigh. Thank God, I’m not naked. Nor do I have to do the walk of shame. I didn’t do anything wrong.
“Oh God, I’m so embarrassed.” I bury my face in the blanket.
“Don’t look at me,” Mama says. “I’d be a hypocrite if I said you ought to be ashamed of yourselves.”
My lip pokes out. “You just said it, Mama.”
“Wouldn’t be my place to warn you about catchin’ sexually transmitted diseases and unwanted pregnancies from havin’ unprotected sex.”
“Mama!”
“Whatever? I didn’t say anythin’. I’m respectin’ your right to do what you want. ’Sides, I’m dead. Not like I can stop you from making a huge—”
“AAHH!” I scream, covering my ears. “Tell her nothing happened, Landry.”
Silence fills the room. I glance at the bed, but it’s empty. The bathroom door slams shut, and Mama laughs. “See, it’s like a man to leave a woman high and dry in this sort of situation.”
“I’m not abandoning her,” Landry yells from the bathroom. “I’m fixing my nose so I don’t bleed to death. And nothing happened. We slept…and shared a few kisses, but that’s it. Not that I wouldn’t”—his voice rises in a strangled squawk—“Ms. Jasmine, get out of here.”
Mama’s voice comes from inside the bathroom. “You ain’t got nothin’ I haven’t seen before, boy, so stop actin’ all modest. Look me in the eye and swear nothin’ happened. I can tell if you’re lyin’.”
I back away from the door so they don’t hear me laughing. I grab my toiletry bag and a change of clothing and hustle off to the second bathroom. By the time I finish showering and dressing, I’ve recovered my composure. In the living room, Landry sits in a slump on the leather couch engrossed in a movie—a Syfy original involving a creature that looks like they genetically spliced a piranha with a crocodile—Croconha. Extremely cringe-worthy.
Landry doesn’t bother to glance away from the screen, but the back of his neck and ears turn red when I cozy up next to him. I wrap his arm around my shoulders then stare up at his face in fawnlike adoration. A quick glance down at me and the blush spreads to include his entire face.
“Hi, sexy,” I croon huskily, blowing in his ear. This will teach you never to abandon me again.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Uh…”
I run my hand down his thigh and squeeze.
Landry throws a wild look over his shoulder and grabs my hand. “Don’t…Ms. Jasmine said if I touch you, she’ll—”
A deep rush of warmth fills my chest. How does he expect me to keep my hands to myself afte
r he says something so sweet? “Thank you. You’ve no idea how much it means to me, knowing that you respect Mama. People looked down on her for the choices she made her entire life. I know she’s trying to do right by me.” I lay my head on his shoulder. “But I’m not a child anymore. She doesn’t get to dictate how I live my life.”
Landry snorts. “Big words from someone who fell off the bed trying to get away from me.”
“I panicked. Old habits die hard.” I stare at his mouth, willing it to move toward mine. A corner of his lip rises in a half smile, and I lift my chin. His mouth brushes across mine, and I groan, pressing against him. “Kiss me, please.”
The ding from the elevator brings us both off the couch with darting looks.
“What time did Magnolia say she’d be coming for us?” Landry asks, running his hands through his tangled ebony locks. He’s wearing his eye patch again, plus a pair of dark denim jeans and a T-shirt that matches his storm-cloud eye. He looks so hot.
I fan myself. Overheated. It’s my own fault. If you don’t play with fire, you won’t get burned, right? Silly girl.
“Mala, are you okay?”
“Fine, I’m cool.” Not.
What had he asked? Oh, yeah, Magnolia. I have no idea what time she said she’d come. My memories of the night before are hazy. I spent most of it in a daze. Overwhelmed by everything that happened. Today I’m reminded that there is a price for the luxury I’m enjoying. I just hope it’s one I’m willing to pay. Auntie Magnolia seems more mafia boss than philanthropist. If I don’t fulfill my obligations, I wouldn’t put it past her to start cutting off body parts to use in her spells.
But I put myself in this situation. Granted I didn’t have much choice—death or slavery—and dying hurt, so I agreed to her terms. Landry didn’t. He’s in this mess because of me, so I’m responsible for whatever happens.
The opening door interrupts my frantic thoughts. I’m not expecting to see the man standing in the elevator. Hell, I wouldn’t expect to see him anywhere but on a movie set. He looks so much like Taye Diggs that I almost squeal like a fangirl, but subtle differences exert themselves as I study his chiseled face. None of the differences detracts from this guy’s beauty and commanding sense of presence. My mouth waters as I drink in the muscular frame standing in front of me. Midnight velvet skin shines beneath the overhead lights. Whoa, so yummy.
Guilt curdles my stomach as I remember Landry. I glance over to see if he’s noticed my short, minuscule bout of infatuation. He’s staring openmouthed into space, like a dehydrated spaniel. Surely he’s not mesmerized by the guy’s hotness. Then I realize the Taye clone isn’t alone in the elevator, and my gaze moves to the woman standing next to him.
She has skin the color of rich mahogany, silky smooth and without blemish. The kind of skin I wish I could have but never will because I’ve never used moisturizer in my life. I glance down at my callused palms and broken nails. With a grimace, I shove my hands into my pockets.
The woman studies me with greenish gray eyes emphasized by thick black eyelashes and wavy hair that hangs past her shoulder blades. “Malaise LaCroix” —she arches an eyebrow, then nods— “and Landry Prince.”
“Who are you?” I ask, breathless.
They step together out of the elevator, and Landry and I are forced to shuffle back. A crackle of energy radiates from these two. It raises the hairs on my arms and sets off every alarm within my body. It’s a force I’ve come to recognize. Power. These two are full of spiritual energy.
Landry tips his head down and whispers, “They’re not ghosts. No shine.”
The woman laughs. “No, we are very much alive.” She gestures toward the man. “This is Ferdinand, and I am Sophia. We are servants of Queen LaCroix. Which means for today, we obey your commands.”
Servants? “Why do I feel like I’ve been sucked into the Middle Ages? Did I fall through a time rift or something while sleeping?”
“I wondered why you were playing with the flux capacitor,” Landry mutters. I elbow him in the side. I’m totally serious.
Sophia’s perfectly arched eyebrow lifts. “Time rift. Back to the Future. I see. How quaint.”
Oh hell, no, she didn’t. “Are you insulting us now?” I step forward, not caring how powerful she is. I’m not a cockroach for her to squash. I didn’t take Auntie Magnolia’s insults, and I’m not taking this witch’s either.
Landry takes my hand and squeezes. “We thank you for your hospitality.”
Sofia smiles, and Landry’s hand drops from mine.
I let out a huff of air, narrowing my eyes. He doesn’t notice my glare. She’s bespelled him again. What will it take to knock some sense into him? Thrusting my boobs into his face again? Stupid boy. Only thinking with his other brain.
Ferdinand chuckles. The contrast between his dark skin and his white, toothpaste-ad smile makes me forget to breathe. I’m doomed!
Ferdinand and Sophia steer us onto the elevator and out the doors of the hotel like they’re herding their sheep. A smile here, a light touch there, and we follow along without having to get bitten. Although…um, biting. That might actually be pleasurable. Ferdinand smiles at me again, and I shiver.
Ugh, snap out of it! I shake my head, trying to banish the fuzziness so I can think clearly. Sunlight beats down on my body, and I draw in a gulp of muggy air. Perspiration dots my forehead. New Orleans in the summer, the perfect weather to clear my mind. I flap the front of my T-shirt, trying to cool down. It’s soaked with sweat, and we’ve barely walked a block.
“Where exactly are we going?” I ask after walking for about ten minutes. Yeah, I’m now totally lost.
“Your aunt mentioned you wanted to go to Café Du Monde,” Sophia says with a nod toward the café across the street. Coffee with a pungent hint of chicory and hot milk and the aroma of fried dough and sweet powdered sugar fills my nose when I inhale. I take in the crowd of people sitting at tables on a patio beneath a green-and-white-striped awning.
Landry rubs his hands together. “My mouth is already watering.”
I bounce up and down on my toes. “Mine too. Let’s go.”
Landry and Ferdinand check out the inside while Sophia and I find a table beside the wrought iron fence surrounding the patio area, directly below a ceiling fan because it’s damn hot. I lean back in my chair with a sigh, letting the cool breeze blow down the top of my T-shirt. I’ve never seen so many different types of people gathered in one place. Every ethnicity flows around us. I wish I could talk to them, find out what their lives are like, where they came from.
Sophia sits across from me with her legs crossed. Her tan slacks taper to reveal tan and cream heels. They look expensive.
“Do you like them?” Sophia twists her foot to the side.
I shrug. “They look like they pinch your toes.”
“Actually they’re very comfortable.”
“Don’t you have a hard time walking in them?”
“You’ll get used to it.”
What does she mean?
I shrug. “So what are we doing after we eat?”
Sophia doesn’t answer. She’s too busy staring a hole into my already holey sneakers, then her gaze travels upward to take in my faded jeans and sweat-stained blue T-shirt. “Do all of your clothes look like this?”
I stiffen. “What’s wrong with my clothing?”
“If you must ask…” Sophia’s attention shifts to the white-clothed, bow-tied waitress who appears as if out of thin air, and I want to slap the jaunty pill-box cap off the waitress’s head for interrupting.
I breathe through my irritation as Sophia orders beignets and coffee for all of us. When the waitress leaves, I lean toward Sophia and hiss, “Look, I’m not rich. Maybe my aunt is a gazillionaire, but I’m a swamp girl, and proud of it. I get my clothes from the thrift shop on Grant Boulevard.” Why am I making excuses to her?
Sophia lays a hand on my arm. Warmth spreads through my body, and the tension in my neck and shoulders drain. So do
es my anger. “I don’t mean to disrespect your choice in fashion,” she says. “Honestly, it works for you, but”—her voice lowers conspiratorially—“your aunt says I’m to dress you appropriately for the ceremony tonight. I’ve been told to take you shopping.”
CHAPTER 23
LANDRY
Shop Until You Drop
The air conditioning is the main reason I haven’t bailed out of the sitting room in the upscale woman’s boutique. I lean forward in my chair so the full blast blows over my body. Women and shopping. I should’ve known better than to rush my own wardrobe selection to get back.
I glance at the dressing room door and sigh. I can’t stop thinking about the kiss I got this morning. I’m still in shock. The memory of Mala’s lips keep me grounded whenever Sophia’s green eyes turn on me. The woman’s beautiful. Like a work of art…the kind you stare at but don’t dare touch ’cause you’ll get your hand cut off. Bad things will happen if I give in to my lustful urges.
Then there’s ol’ Ferdinand. The guy’s huge and more intimidating than an MMA fighter. Not that I’ll ever admit this aloud. I really don’t like the smoldering glances Mala keeps throwing in his direction.
The dressing room door opens, and Sophia walks out with a sultry smile. I pinch my arm. The pain helps me tear my gaze from her to focus on the woman who steps out behind her. The world rocks on its axis. My vision tunnels and wavers. I’m on my feet, not sure when I jumped up.
“Mala…” I breathe out the last bit of air in my lungs, too stunned to remember how to inhale. I blink, dizzy. Shaking my head, I take a step toward her.
