by C. D. Hersh
As their ardor peaked, her body wrenched from her bones, spilling into a sea of red and green shooting stars. Her vision clouded over, blurring Rhys’ face hovering over her. He roared out her name and dropped his weight against her, shuddering. Alexi’s shudders collided with his. She blinked to clear her vision and then clawed at the sides of the tub, the water sloshing over the edge with her frantic motion.
They had reversed places. But they hadn’t rolled over. She grabbed the side of the tub to steady herself. She was on the top now, looking down at . . . herself? She shook her head again and found herself on the bottom, sprawled beneath Rhys, his solid weight holding her in the water.
“Rhys,” she gasped, pounding on his chest. “What just happened?”
He angled to his side and flipped the drain open with his toe, then settled back down against her. A chill ran over her bare skin as the water drained away. “The soul mate thing. Remember?” Rhys tucked a strand of wet hair behind her ear. “I thought you liked it.”
Alexi scooted up in the tub as best as she could with Rhys’ dead weight on her. “It creeped me out.”
“That’s not what you said the first time. I liked it better this time. You’ll get used to it.” Rhys nibbled on her shoulder, working his way down toward her breast. “Wanna do it again?”
His comment reminded her that he’d screwed Sylvia. Irritated, she shoved at his chest. “Not now. Get off me, Rhys. I’m freezing.”
He settled deeper against her and rubbed her goose-bumped arms. “Let me warm you up again.”
She bucked under him. “Get off. Now.”
He bench pressed off her, climbed out of the tub, and tossed a towel her direction. “Suit yourself. I’ll be in bed.”
Perching on the edge of the tub, she wrapped the towel around her, shivering more from what happened than from cold. If they were going to shift every time they made love, it would make it easier to tell him good-bye. Rhys might find it exhilarating, but no way did she find it exciting. Just the opposite. It was one thing to shift into another form when you were controlling it and quite another when you couldn’t. And she definitely wasn’t controlling what had just happened. She wanted him to be her soul mate, but she sure didn’t want to mind swap with him every time they made love.
Had Sylvia found it as exhilarating as Rhys did? Is that why she wanted a shot at him? Jealousy rushed through her. Sylvia couldn’t be his soul mate. She was.
Alexi thrust her hands through her wet hair, catching her bloodstone ring in the tangles. She picked the strands loose, combing them through her fingers.
How could he have two soul mates? And if she was really his soul mate, how could she tell him good-bye?
On the other hand, if she really loved him, how could she not tell him good-bye to save his life?
Love sucked.
Rhys was alone when he awoke. Dawn’s pink light filtered through the sheers at the bedroom window. Downstairs he could hear Alexi in the kitchen rattling pots. She was probably cleaning again. Not good.
Last night hadn’t gone as he’d expected. She’d freaked out when they exchanged bodies. Withdrew from him as if he was some kind of monster. Why did she react differently than the first time? Sure, it took a bit of getting used to, but he was starting to like it. Maybe he needed to emphasize the soul mate part and downplay the explosive body-shifting orgasm. He dressed and went downstairs, prepared to talk her into making love again.
The cleaning was worse than he expected. Pots and dishes lay on every flat surface, the pungent smell of ammonia and very strong coffee filled the kitchen. Alexi stood on the counter, her head inside the topmost cabinet, scrubbing.
“Good morning,” Rhys said.
Startled, Alexi banged her head into the shelf. A muffled expletive echoed inside the cabinet. She withdrew her head and slapped the sponge into the bucket on the counter.
“You could have given me some warning,” she griped as she peeled off her yellow rubber gloves and massaged the back of her head.
“Sorry. I thought you’d hear me coming down the stairs. What are you doing up there?”
“Sheesh, are you blind? I’m cleaning. It’s—”
“I know, filthy.” He cleared two chairs and motioned Alexi over. “Take a break. We need to talk.”
She stepped off the counter and stood behind one of the chairs. “You’re right, we do.”
“About last night—” they said in unison.
“Ladies first.” He pointed at the chair, and Alexi sank onto it.
She stared down at the floor intensely, as if searching for something. After couple of minutes she spoke, her voice cracking. “I don’t think . . . if that’s going to happen . . . We can’t . . .”
His heart jumped at the last word. Can’t what? He tipped her face toward his. The gold flecks in her eyes darkened as her expression grew sadder. He waited, hoping she wouldn’t be able to say what he feared was coming.
Alexi removed his hand and swiveled in the chair away from him. “You have to leave, I-I can’t do this. Last night was . . . wrong.”
He scooted his chair in front of her. “How can you say that? You love me. I know you do. You can’t deny that, even if the proof of our connection freaks you out.”
“And if I can’t make love because I’m afraid? How many months will you want to stay around in a sexless relationship?”
“Sex isn’t everything.”
A cynical laugh escaped from her. “I don’t believe that for a second, not coming from the office Romeo. In less than a month you’d be out of here. Better to do it now and spare us both the pain.”
“Spare me pain? You’re killing me right now, Lexi.” He grasped her shoulders and squared her toward him. “You liked it the first time. You were the one who told me it was a soul mate thing. Tried to convince me to do it again.”
Alexi’s eyes flashed hazel fire. “Don’t ever mention that first time to me again.” She spat out the words. “I don’t want to hear about what happened in the hotel, or how good it was, or what I said.”
He released her, startled at the hostility in her voice. Why she wouldn’t want to talk about some of the best sex they’d ever had made no sense to him. He thought reminding her of something that great would turn her on, not off.
She was the most complex woman he’d ever been with. Maybe that was part of her charm. That, and the absolute crushing need she stirred in him.
Switching tactics, he appealed to her logical side. “You’ve never been alone. You’ve always had Baron in your life. If you kick me out, you’ll be alone.”
“I’m almost thirty. It’s about time I figured out how to manage by myself. I’m not an idiot, you know.”
“That’s not what I meant. You’re a smart woman.”
“A smart, independent woman,” she interjected.
Way to go. You just let her shoot that argument down. “Okay, you’re smart.”
“And independent,” she insisted, frowning.
“And independent,” he added grudgingly. “But losing Baron has been a terrible shock. You need more time before you make a life-altering decision like this. All the experts tell people not to sell their houses after a loved one dies. They need time to adjust to the loss.”
Alexi jumped out of the chair, slapped her hands on her hips, and glared at him. “Are you comparing our relationship to selling a house? What do you think I am? A tri-level with a picket fence?” She crossed to the other side of the room.
Man, she’s testy this morning. But then this probably isn’t easy for her. At least I hope it’s not easy. He followed her. “I just meant that you shouldn’t jump into another heartbreak so soon after losing Baron.”
“That is exactly why we should have never started an intimate relationship.”
No way did he want to admit to that. They’d started the relationship and now he wasn’t willing to let her go. Couldn’t let her go.
Frustrated, he jammed his hands into his pockets and shifted his wei
ght from side-to-side, trying to think of another line of reasoning. He sucked at logic. He should have known better than to use her best quality against her. Every argument had bit him in the ass. He had one option left—change her mind the way he knew best.
When Rhys yanked her to his chest and started kissing her, it immobilized Alexi. Then her body betrayed her. Heat and prickles flashed through her fingertips, up her arms, to her heart—settling with devastating need between her legs. She could smell the passion growing between them, flooding her senses with Old Spice and Rhys and pheromones. It pulled her in, drowning her in desire. A shudder rollercoastered through her.
She felt Rhys react to her body’s duplicity, deepening his kiss. The desperation of his seduction careened into lasciviousness, touching parts of her she didn’t even know existed. For the briefest of moments, she gave in. She savored the feelings, storing them in her heart and mind and body for the long, lonely nights that lay ahead.
With a Herculean effort, she lifted her mouth from his, breathless. “You have to leave. Now,” she said in a voice so passion-struck she knew he wouldn’t believe her.
Rhys refused to release her, holding her tight against him. “You don’t mean that. You want me. You need me.”
She wanted him all right, with a mindless hunger she didn’t understand. But she had no choice in the matter.
I have to do this. I’m protecting you. I have to do this. I’m protecting you.
Her body thrummed against his, her mantra useless while he held her. Breaking the intense physical connection, she thrust away from him.
“I do mean it,” she said, her voice stronger now that he wasn’t pumping mind-numbing obsession into her with every breath and caress. She scrambled backwards, ramming into the counter. Her elbow hit the cleaning bucket, sloshing ammonia-laden water onto the counter. The harsh, acrid smell tore the last of Rhys’ scent from her, freeing her to do what she had to do.
“I’m sorry, Rhys. It’s over.” A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She didn’t bother to wipe it away. She wanted him to know this was killing her, too. Wanted him to know that she did love him.
He wiped the tear from her cheek. “I’m not going to give up easily. I love you. But for now, I’ll do what you ask. I’ll go pack.”
“I already did. Your stuff is by the front door.”
A crushed look crossed his face and his shoulders drooped. “You weren’t going to change your mind, were you?”
She shook her head, blinking the tears away.
“Can we at least be partners?”
The longing in his voice slashed her heart. She nodded, knowing she’d never be able to be anything with him but a lover. She’d deal with the consequences of her lie later.
Rhys kissed her cheek. His touch nearly undid her. Moving away, she swiped at the water on the counter, gulping in the ammonia scent, desperate to keep her mind clear. “Good-bye, Rhys,” she whispered.
She didn’t move until she heard the front door close, then she jammed on her yellow rubber gloves and plunged her hands into the bucket. Ammonia flooded her senses. She scrubbed the counter furiously, weeping shamelessly in broad daylight.
Some grief was too great to hold until midnight.
Chapter 26
Shaw held the romance book in front of him and studied his reflection in the mirror. If he could change into a real person, could he look at a picture and become that person, too?
Since the cop in the bank had mistaken him for someone else he needed a safer get-away identity. Scared the hell outta him. There was no way she could have known him, and he sure didn’t know her. He’d probably picked some ex-con off the street as a getaway personality. Stupid mistake. Couldn’t afford to do that again.
The image in the mirror blurred as the now-familiar tingle of transformation ran through him. He was getting the hang of this thing. No more heart attacks either.
Cocking his head to one side, he examined the chiseled features forming on his face. Damn, he was handsome. If he didn’t have Lulu, he’d use this face to score a few women. He felt a tug in his chest and immediately shoved thoughts of Lulu away. Don’t want no freaking boobs shooting out. The sensation in his chest eased and he relaxed.
He concentrated on the model’s shaggy blond hair, watching his short, sandy hair bleach out and grow several inches a second until it matched the model’s flyaway mane. Shaw moved side-to-side checking out his new body. Broad shoulders, muscled arms, trim waist. The only part of him that remained was his piercing blue eyes.
Satisfied at the transformation, he willed his own features back and ran his hand over his chin. Time for a shave. He peered closer at the mirror, squinting at his reflection. Was that gray in his beard?
I’m too young to go gray. Must be the stress of all these jobs. He flipped his electric shaver on and buzzed the stubble off. Only one more big job and I should have what Lulu needs for the wedding. Then I’ll put this ring away for a rainy day.
On his next robbery he planned to hit the upscale jewelry store where he had been a janitor. Pretending to be one of the regular customers-a distinguished guy, about his size, with a limp-he’d hit the joint as the customer and morph into the guy on the cover of Lulu’s book for his escape. Then he’d present Lulu with a pile of cash, some pearls for her neck and ears, and the engagement set he stole earlier.
Satisfied, Shaw ripped the cover off of the book and pocketed it—just in case he needed to refresh his memory—changed into the store customer, and shrugged into the expensive suit coat he’d stolen. He wanted to be at the jewelry store before the clerks opened.
When the clerk arrived at nine a.m., carrying the bank bag under her arm, he was waiting for her. He crossed the street, limping with a stiff right leg like he’d seen the customer do.
“You’re here awfully early, Mr. Pawling,” she said as she dug in her purse for the store key. “We’re not open yet.”
“I know,” he replied, “but it’s real important I get something this morning. Can I come in and shop now?”
The key stopped halfway to the lock. “Mike isn’t here yet. I really shouldn’t let you in.”
“Have you been in love?” he asked sadly, shifting his weight onto his left leg. He rubbed his right knee. Why was it hurting?
The clerk tipped her head to one side. “Trouble with the missus?”
“We had a horrible fight last night and she’s leaving for her mother’s on the ten-thirty flight to LA.” He tapped his stolen Rolex wristwatch. “If I don’t get to the airport before she leaves with a big peace offering . . .” He stopped, put on what he hoped was a forlorn expression, and sighed deeply. “I haven’t been away from her since we got married.”
“Ahh, how sweet.” The clerk’s face melted into a puddle of sympathy.
Gotcha. All women are suckers for love.
She raised her hand to her mouth, chewing on her thumbnail indecisively, the keys dangling under her fist. He suppressed the urge to take them and unlock the door.
“I’d like to, Mr. Pawling, but I really shouldn’t.” She lowered her hand.
He stepped closer and his right knee buckled. Placing his shoulder on the window to steady himself, he blocked her from street view and reached into his jacket pocket. “Then you leave me no choice,” he said, as he shoved the gun barrel against her side. “Open the damned door and let’s go in.”
The metal keys rattled against the glass door like a wind chime in a storm as she opened it. “Don’t hurt me, Mr. Pawling, please.”
“Just do as I say and everything will be okay.” He limped into the store. “Lock the door behind me.”
She nodded vigorously, her ponytail bobbing, and obeyed.
“Now, give me the bank bag and the keys and step behind the counter, the one with the pearls and diamonds, and open it.” He poked her in the back with the gun and she stiffened. “If I don’t see your hands, at any time, I’ll shoot. Understand? No punching silent alarms.”
“Okay,
” she squeaked. “Whatever you say.” She opened the case he indicated. “Now what?”
He took a canvas tote bag from his coat pocket. “Empty the case into this.”
The clerk scooped the jewelry into the bag, her hands shaking so much that she dropped a pearl and diamond necklace on the floor. She bent to retrieve it.
“Forget the necklace. Hands where I can see them,” Shaw ordered. “Now lay on the floor, over here beside the door.”
She handed him the bag and walked to the spot he indicated, her legs wobbling like a drunk’s. “Please don’t kill me, Mr. Pawling. I swear I won’t tell anybody it was you.”
“Don’t matter if you do. I’ll be gone by then.” He backed away from her toward the door, pocketed his gun, and dropped the bank bag into the canvas tote. “Count to one hundred before you move.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
Another store clerk appeared as Shaw unlocked the door.
“What are you doing in here?” Then he spotted the girl on the floor. “Are you okay, Cindy?”
Shaw drew his gun, pointing the barrel at the man. “Get down on the floor with her.”
The clerk lunged at Shaw. Cindy screamed as the gun went off and her coworker reeled back, falling onto the floor beside her.
Shaw looked at the gun then at the fallen man. “Shit! Why did he do that?”
Cindy scrambled over to her coworker, crying when she saw the blood staining his shirt.
“Call the paramedics as soon as I’m gone,” Shaw said. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Then he left, dragging his right leg behind him.
Chapter 27
Please don’t let that be Rhys.
Alexi wiped the last of the tears on her tee-shirt sleeve, squinted through the peephole, and blinked. A figure stood on the other side, a male and female face mingled together. She shifted to her alter ego to increase her ability to sense if the visitor was a shifter. Pinprick tingles raised the fine hair all over her body. The visitor was definitely shifted.
