“And this is desired by you?” I queried.
“I didn’t know it was until Valentine gave me the option, but from what the guys who own the firm told me about what they do, it is.” I heard his head move on the pillow as I felt him dip his face closer to mine and his voice was reassuring when he continued, “It’s good, sweetheart. It’s what I want. I’m lookin’ forward to it.”
“Well, then that’s fine,” I replied.
“Glad you’re down with it,” he muttered with amusement.
I was down with it but only because he was.
“Now,” I carried on, “I’d like to know, when you said, ‘shit can happen’ and then stated it does, ‘without fail,’ what, precisely, you mean.”
His reply was instantaneous.
“Your parents abused you, probably in terms of mental and emotional abuse, since birth, but the physical shit hit at age five. The only mom I knew got cancer, fought it hard, and died anyway. Your boyfriend was kidnapped by witches and tortured to death. Your world almost was taken over by evil forces. During an investigation, I hooked up with an other-world woman who eventually led me to her this-world twin, someone I connected with, meaning I got roped into helping save your world. What, precisely, I mean is that shit can happen, crazy shit, shit that’s in-fucking-sane, and it does. Without fail.”
This could not be argued.
That said, I had a curious feeling he was not sharing all with me.
I looked into his shadowed face, and due to the hour, the mood, and our location, decided that perhaps now was not the time to press that.
He’d said everything that was his was mine to have. He was Noc, therefore I believed him.
But that didn’t mean I needed to demand everything from him immediately.
“Are you tired?” I asked.
Another smile in his answer of “Baby, wasn’t ten minutes ago, you can’t have forgotten I did all the work.”
Well!
“This is correct,” I retorted. “I also have not forgotten that you did all the work regardless of my attempts to, at first, share that endeavor, and then later beg you to stop doing all the work and provide me with what you were working toward.”
“Yeah,” he murmured warmly. “I didn’t forget that either.” He tilted in and touched his mouth to mine where he said, “You beg real pretty, sweetheart.”
Blast, but he had a talent for titillation mingled with vexation.
However, it was the first part that made me involuntarily press my body into his.
In response, Noc drifted his hand down my spine and cupped the cheek of my bottom with it, saying, “You gotta let your man get some rest, sugarlips. Then he’ll give you what you want and be able to do it the way you like it.”
“I was not requesting more, Noc,” I returned.
“Your mouth wasn’t, but your body was.”
I said nothing for this was true and there was no denying it.
“You gonna let me sleep?” Noc asked.
Him sleeping would mean him not annoying me.
Or exciting me.
“Yes,” I answered.
“You gonna sleep?” he asked.
I had things on my mind, particularly the “shit” in Noc’s life that had hit without fail, shit that was not his stepmother dying, something which quite clearly had wounded him deeply, a wound that had not healed, nor ever would.
“Yes,” I lied.
“Sleep now and then mall tomorrow,” he muttered. “Get you more clothes so you can leave some here.”
This was an excellent plan.
I snuggled closer to him, saying softly, “That sounds good.”
“Show you and Josette around the kitchen. How to use the stove, microwave, shit like that.” He continued to plan, the drowsy beginning to permeate his tone. “She at least knows how to use a microwave, she won’t have to eat popcorn from a bag if she’s hungry.”
“That also sounds good,” I replied.
“We’ll find out the schedule Valentine has set up for you to look at places and—”
I interrupted him. “Darling?”
“Yeah?”
Running a hand soothingly over his back I whispered, “Sleep. We can plan tomorrow, tomorrow.”
“Right,” he mumbled, his hand at my arse curving around to bury itself between my hip and the bed, this pulling me even closer. “’Night, Frannie.”
“Good night, my dearest.”
“My dearest,” he muttered. “My Frannie, so fuckin’ cute.”
I held him and stroked him and felt his big body loosen against me, his head falling forward so his forehead rested on mine, his hold relaxing but the tilt of his body in sleep meant I took on some of his weight.
And gloried in it.
I felt replete from a lovely dinner, delightful company, meaningful sharing, excellent whiskey and exquisite lovemaking. Much had happened in a short time and my body and mind were exhausted because of it.
Even so, it took me some time to find my own peace because, no longer wrestling with the many changes in life I’d endured, I could finally focus on something that wasn’t me.
And what I focused on was that fact that the man whose bed I lay naked in, whose naked body lay rested against mine, the man who had stolen into my heart and captured a large portion for himself that I knew, no matter what the future might bring, would always be his…that man was still a mystery.
And that troubled me.
Deeply.
Chapter Seventeen
Every Second
Franka
“I’ll drop you off, do some shit,” Noc declared. “Text me when you’re almost done, I’ll come back and get you. But, just to say, they cut off too much of your hair, I’ll lose my mind. Be warned and make sure that doesn’t happen, sugarlips, because that shit goes down, I promise you it won’t be pretty.”
Noc and my plans made over the breakfast he’d offered me that morning (he called it bagels and cream cheese¸ I called it delicious) had been thwarted for the day.
This meant Josette and I now stood in the rather elegant entryway of an establishment where Noc had taken us due to the fact that Valentine had left a note with Josette. This note proclaimed she’d made an appointment for us to take care of our persons in a this-world way. This in the form of us going to a “spa” to have our hair “styled,” our brows “shaped” and our nails “done.”
They’ve been informed you’re both new to these experiences so have been instructed to have a care with you, my chéries. They’ve also been paid and tipped. All you need to do is enjoy. She’d written.
Although I did understand the concept of having my hair styled, the rest of it was entirely foreign to me (and Josette). Even if Valentine had shared with the staff that we were “new to these experiences,” we were, indeed, new to these experiences. I didn’t want anyone near my hair (which Noc had just declared a rather healthy interest in), my nails (unless that person was Josette, she was quite talented with filing and shaping, not to mention taking care of my hair), but mostly my brows (what did one do to brows?) not knowing a thing about it thus having no choice but to appear just that way.
In other words, gauche and daft.
I was neither.
Nor was Josette.
This wouldn’t do!
Damn Valentine. It was irritating in the extreme she’d brought us to this world, championed doing just that and disappeared after we’d arrived.
“I…well, Noc…” I got myself together and requested, “It would be most appreciated if you’d accompany us through our, erm, assignations here.”
Noc got closer, smiling encouragingly, saying, “You’ll be good, sweetheart. And you’ll like it. Women do this kind of shit in this world all the time and they love it. It’s considered a treat.”
“I’m certain it is,” I mumbled. “It would still—”
He cut me off by taking my hand, tugging it and giving Josette a look as he moved us a few steps away.
&n
bsp; He turned his attention to me and lifted both hands to either side of my neck before dropping his face to mine and saying only for my ears, “Okay, baby, first, hair. When they get you in the chair, they’re gonna ask you what you wanna do with it, maybe recommend things you might wanna try. Be firm you want it trimmed only. They’ll do that. They might wash it, blow it dry with a handheld, electric blow dryer and style it. When they get to your brows, they’re gonna…”
He then patiently, and rather thoroughly, explained all that was to happen to Josette and myself at that “spa.”
“To end,” he concluded. “I’m a dude. Dudes these days do this kinda thing. Have pedicures. Get shit shaped. I am not that kind of dude. I’m also not the kind of dude that hangs with his woman while she has it done. If you’re anxious, I’m here, won’t step a foot out that door if you need me to stay. But if I didn’t think it would all be good, I wouldn’t even consider leaving. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I nodded. “I understand, Noc.”
“So you want me to stay or can I go?”
I stared into his eyes as his words tumbled in my head.
I am not that kind of dude.
You want me to stay or can I go?
Can I go?
But he would stay.
For me, he would stay.
“I’m exceptionally fond of you, Noctorno Hawthorne,” I blurted.
His face blanked momentarily in surprise before the blank vanished and his gaze took on a heat I’d only thus far felt from him during loveplay.
“For future reference,” he rumbled, “you look at me like that while you say shit to me like that, you do it in a place that at the very least has a relatively private broom closet so I can take you there and fuck you against the wall.”
I swayed into him, lifting a hand to clutch his shirt to help hold me up as his words coursed up my legs to target the area between them.
This they did.
With precision.
“Yeah?” he pushed on a growl.
“Yes, Noc.”
“Now, do you want me to stay?”
“No, darling. I think Josette and I can manage.”
“Right,” he muttered, sounding perturbed, looking stimulated, and dropping his mouth to mine for a hard, closed-mouth kiss before he lifted an inch away. “Text me when you’re almost done, I’ll come get you, take you both to lunch then the mall. Good?”
I nodded. “Good.”
He looked over my head and then at me. “You’ll love it, sweetheart. Just relax and have fun.”
I nodded again.
His heated gaze shifted just to warmth. “I can go but only if you let go of my shirt.”
“Oh!” I cried, letting him go and watching my hand smooth his attractive shirt against his chest.
This was a mistake, seeing as his chest under his shirt was so warm…and so hard.
I pulled my hand away.
“Late lunch, early dinner, we tuck Josette away, back to my place for another marathon,” he stated roughly and again I lifted my eyes to his.
Warmth gone, heat back.
“Marathon?” I asked, fighting against melting from his heat.
“Do you have those in your world?” he queried in return.
“Running? Yes, there are games in Hawkvale where athletes from all over the Northlands—”
“Our marathon will not be running,” he promised.
My “Oh,” that time was much softer.
“Fuck, she says ‘oh’ and I’m in danger of coming in my pants,” he groused, looking annoyed.
I felt my eyes round before I felt my lids get heavy and my mouth get soft.
I watched as Noc took in my look and appeared to grow even more annoyed.
“Gone,” he grunted abruptly. Lifting a hand to snatch me around the back of the head, he bent it down, kissed the top, tangled his fingers in my hair and pulled it back. He bent in again to brush his lips against mine. “Text me,” he demanded, let me go and then he sauntered rather aggressively to and out the door without even glancing at Josette in farewell.
This was rude but I didn’t have it in me to consider that as I was at that moment memorizing his aggressive gait because it was such an agreeable sight, I never wanted to forget it.
Once I realized I was staring longingly at the door, I shook myself out of it, turned and saw the woman behind the desk who had greeted us as we’d walked in, as well as Josette, were both staring at the door.
Longingly.
This made me smile.
Exultantly.
I moved toward Josette.
The sooner we had our this-world treat, the sooner we’d again be with Noc.
So it was time to get started.
* * * * *
“Look at this. Look…at…this!” Josette demanded, striding into the lounge with its comfortable furnishings that was the waiting area of the spa.
I looked at this, “this” being her flipping her hair out at both sides with her hands then shaking it with her head tipped back.
She did not have a man who demanded her hair stay long so it had been cut to be just longer than her shoulders and styled in soft curls that were most becoming. Not to mention, as if by magic, blonde streaks had been added changing the color but a nuance, but that nuance was most appealing.
She righted her head and smiled hugely at me.
“It’s a miracle!” she cried.
It was, indeed, a very attractive hairstyle.
“You look lovely, my dear.”
She got close to where I was sitting, bent over me and started plucking carefully at my hair with expert attentiveness. “Gads, Franka, I see what they’ve done. Released some of the buoyancy by cutting layers into the length to take off the weight. Extraordinary,” she breathed, leaned back and examined my face. “And your brows are quite lovely, arched like that. All in all, I must say, you look even more beautiful than normal,” she declared. “Mas…I mean, Noc will be even more enamored with you when he sees you.”
I had no doubt this would be true.
And the reason why was not my hairstyle, which was really quite lovely, a change but not much of one, however it made an impact. Or my brows, which were always arched but the delicate sweep of them now was most effective.
It was simply because Noc was enamored with me and it seemed anything I did made him more so.
I tucked that thought safe close to my heart and smiled in a way I knew how it felt having it there showed on my face.
And it did, for Josette asked, “He’s lovely to you in all ways?”
“He’s more than lovely to me in all ways,” I answered.
“I knew he would be,” she whispered. “And this makes me happy.”
It did me as well.
I didn’t share that.
I reached out a hand and took hers, giving it a squeeze.
“Franka? Josette?” a woman called.
We both looked to her standing at the mouth of the area we were in.
“Time for mani-pedis!” she exclaimed, as if she’d said, “Time for you to select your sapphire the size of your palm!”
Josette, my sweet adventurer who greeted every new experience with excitement and delight, gave me an eager look then rushed to the woman.
I pushed up from my seat and followed more slowly, doing it realizing that for some reason I’d taken on this other-world adventure with trepidation. Perhaps because nothing had gone well for me in my past and I could not imagine a future where I could expect even a modicum of that and I was living in unconscious dread of when my luck would turn. Perhaps it was because I was Franka Drakkar and I had not yet gotten used to the new me, I feared I’d lapse into the old, and it would be me who would drive away all the good I seemed to be earning.
I followed Josette and the woman slowly, also realizing this was foolish and feeling my shoulders straighten at the thought.
Antoine had been right.
Kristian had been right.
&nb
sp; Josette had been right.
And Noc had been right.
The four people I had allowed closest to me knew me better than I did myself.
The new me was me.
As such, it didn’t seem I was earning anything.
I simply was earning it.
So I should bloody well enjoy it.
As I felt a smile curve my lips, my step increased and I sallied forth on my next adventure of allowing someone (not Josette) to shape my nails.
It was not hand to claw combat with a bear.
But it was my adventure, my life.
I was going to cease fearing it.
I was going to embrace it.
Every second.
* * * * *
“By Hermia,” Josette whispered loudly from her place beside me, her entire body vibrating from the apparatus that was inside the seat that whirled and kneaded, tapped and pounded against our backs. “Another miracle,” she whispered, waving her pink-tipped fingernails my way.
I’d noted, with some envy, Valentine’s varnished nails, something we did not have in our world.
Now both Josette and my nails were the same, shaped and varnished, and the ladies were attending our feet, an utterly sublime experience.
Josette had chosen pink.
I had selected a rich burgundy, the color of my favorite Fleuridian wine.
“We must come here every week, Franka,” Josette carried on whispering.
This, once Noc taught us to drive a vehicle, we would do.
“Agreed,” I declared.
She again smiled hugely.
I looked down at the woman sitting on a low stool at my feet.
“Hail, young woman,” I called, her head twitched and she tipped it back to blink at me. “Can you please inform me of when you’re close to finished?” I requested. “Not,” I went on quickly, “that I’m not enjoying your ministrations. I am. Thoroughly. Just that my, well…erm…”
I looked to Josette and lifted my brows, uncertain how to refer to Noc.
She shrugged.
Ah well.
I turned back to the woman at my feet. “My lover requires me to text him when we’re nearly finished so he can collect us. We’ve both enjoyed our time here, tremendously. But I, for one, am quite famished and he’s to take us out to luncheon.” At her continued stunned expression, I amended, “Lunch and I’d rather not delay in waiting for him to arrive by texting too late.”
Midnight Soul (Fantasyland #5) Page 38
