Resigned to accepting the lackluster turn the night has taken, I reach back to kill the water and jam my knuckles into the knob, almost drawing blood.
“Ow. Dammit.”
Why do people stick their fingers in their mouth when they hurt them? I don’t understand it either, but here I am. Sucking on them doesn’t ease the pain at all, and waving my hand around doesn’t help much either. Wish Mom and Dad taught me how to heal with magic. Apparently, it ‘doesn’t work that way.’
Yay. And ouch.
One of these days, I’ll remember to stop expecting to get a ‘feel’ for a place in anything short of two years. Not that I’m a klutz, but I’m always a little off target if I grab blind. Except in my crappy apartment way across town, you know, where the normal people live―not the sort of people like Diego who can swing a five-thousand-dollar a month rent.
The shower control ignores my deadly stare, but doesn’t dodge my grip again. Not complicated when I’m looking at it. Water off. Oh, did I mention how much I love Diego’s bathmat? It’s like walking on clouds. Black, like most of his décor. Such a bachelor. After stepping out of the enormous shower (it’s bigger than my closets), I concentrate for a second, and a whirl of warm air and magical energy circles me, lifting away all the water and carrying it in a splatter against the tiles.
There. Dry.
Guess I can’t say Mom never taught me anything useful. Wish I knew a spell that would make me get noticed by CNN or Reuters or something. Oh well, maybe I should stop chasing magical beasties and start following police cars.
Diego’s still in his den, phone to the side of his head, back to the archway connecting to the living room. He’s still naked. I sashay over to the couch and lean against it, staring at him with a coy smile. Apparently, ‘Scott’ sent the wrong paperwork to the SEC about some account, and it’s bad enough that Diego’s stabbing the air with his finger in time with every word. I love his ass dimples. He’s no heavyweight boxer, but he puts more time in at the gym than anyone really needs to. Not that I’m complaining about the results. That is one nice thing about being with him. Idiots and thugs tend to avoid us if we go out, since he looks like he’d break them in half.
The doorbell rings, so he glances back. We make eye contact, and the rage on his face lessens to an almost-smile. He starts to reach for a white robe, but I mouth ‘I got it’ and head for the front door, going up on tiptoe to use the little view port. Awesome. Food.
I open the door. “Hi. Wow, that was fast.”
A short (seriously, I’m not used to being eye-level with people, much less men) guy with black hair, also with a cell phone glued to the side of his head, is standing outside with a bag dangling from his fingers, rambling in Mandarin or Cantonese.
The kid gives me a noncommittal nod and hands over the credit card receipt and a pen. I figure he finally gets a good look at me the instant the rapid-fire Chinese stops. Oh, what’s a good tip on $29? Whatever… I write in $8, sign it, and offer the slip back with the pen. He continues to stare, open-mouthed. A few seconds later, I tuck the receipt in his jacket pocket and take the plastic bag dangling from his fingers.
“Thanks,” I say. “It smells wonderful!”
“Umm…”
I leave him staring and shut the door.
Diego shakes his head, tosses the robe on the sofa, and wanders back into the den, still yelling at poor Scott. I pad over to the dining area, up a tiny staircase from the sunken living room, and light two candles with a wink of magic. Nothing more romantic than Chinese take-out after sex, right? Maybe one of these days, Diego will stop letting his work always pull him away from me. Or not. After all, I guess he’s gotta pay the ridiculous rent on this place. Not to mention, the man loved what he did. Too much. I suppose I should consider myself lucky I got almost fifteen whole minutes of cuddle time before the phone rang. Diego’s a great guy―when I can get his attention.
Yay, Solstice. You’re second fiddle to his career. And you’re going to be second in line until he retires.
Okay, that depresses the hell out of me.
There it is again. The feeling that it seems like it’s not destined to be. I mean, he’s cute, successful, athletic, fairly high up the food chain at his venture capital firm… but, I dunno. Something doesn’t feel right. I mean, nothing feels overly wrong with him. Just, not right for me. Or am I being too picky? And since when does the girl who can light candles from across the room with a spark of intent doubt her hunches? No. I’m not doubting it; I’m filing an appeal.
Overtaken by a cloud of blah, I plop in the velvet-cushioned chair and pull open the bag. Remember that whole hungry thing? Yeah well, see if Scott’s getting in between me and my chow mei fun.
“Sorry about that, love.” Diego walks past behind me, tugging a robe over his shoulders, but not tying the sash. His hand traces across my shoulders. “Forgive me?”
“I know it’s important.” My smirk winds up only showing part of my annoyance. He takes it playful and bends to kiss me. His cologne floods my senses, something spicy and Mediterranean, an instant before our lips touch.
The kiss is long, skillful, and apologetic enough that I decide not to press him on the phone call. He pulls away, winks, and sits catty corner, our knees almost touching. Before he can even get his container open, I’ve got my chopsticks in motion and a wad of Singapore rice noodles in my mouth.
“Thank you for understanding. I promise this will quiet down once that damn audit is finished.”
“Mmm.”
Diego chuckles, shaking his head. “I should’ve taken a photo of that delivery guy’s face. I still can’t get used to you always walking around naked.”
I show off a little for him. “Not always.”
He raises the Eyebrow of Challenge. “Oh?”
“Only when I’m home alone or here.” I shrug. “It’s comfortable.”
“You’re amazing.” He winks and opens his Kung Pao chicken.
My grin gets him chuckling again. “Amazing because I’m naked?”
“That goes far in my book.”
“How else am I amazing?” I give him my version of the Eyebrow of Challenge.
He holds up a hand (with a fork… what a slacker) while he chews. I tease him by twirling the chopsticks over my fingers and getting them back into eating position one-handed. He makes fun of me by waving his fork around in a circle before sticking it into his food. Something about his goofy face makes me laugh and cover my mouth so as not to spray tiny noodles everywhere.
“You’re beautiful, smart, talented… umm…” He wags his eyebrows. “Flexible.”
I laugh so hard, I wind up choking. Ouch. Curry-spiced noodles going up the inside of my nose hurts. Tears stream from my eyes as I fumble for a napkin while emitting the bastard offspring of giggling and coughing. Okay, so maybe I found a tantric sex book and maybe I can pull off most of the poses. He’s never going to let me forget that.
A generic cell phone ring goes off in the living room.
Sigh.
My turn to be rude.
Diego gives me that little half smile he uses when he’s biting back a smartass remark. I know exactly what he’s going to say as I stand.
“I’m going to tell them I’m busy,” I say. “Unless it’s a job offer from a major network.”
“Good luck. I’m sure Fox would snap you up in a heartbeat. You have a chance since they only hire blondes… and you’re far more attractive than their current lineup anyway.” He winks.
Again, I laugh. He’s being kind. I know I’m more ‘cute’ than ‘hot.’ Not to mention, TV news isn’t my thing. Well, maybe I could do the investigative reporter deal, but I’m more a photojournalist. Yeah, Dad, I know. Zero money in it. Amazingly, the cell is still chirping its little heart out by the time I make it all the way across the colossal living room. Well, colossal for New York City anyway.
I swipe the phone from my bag and hurry toward the table. Food is getting cold, after all. My heart sinks w
hen I see the caller ID. Jade Lau is an awesome friend, a great lead for stories, and speaking of colossal, that’s how much of a pain in the ass she can be. A pain, whose call’s going to drag me out somewhere, and I wanted to spend the rest of the night curled up against Diego, watching some old romance flick.
“You busy?” she asks, by way of greeting.
I plop down at the table and work my chopsticks left-handed. “Singapore rice noodles, a giant sofa, electric fireplace, and a movie. Does that sound busy enough?”
“Sounds like fun, not busy.” The grimness in her voice proves me right. “I need you to check something out. It won’t take long.”
Eye roll time. “You always say that… and it always takes all night.”
“Who’s that? Something important?” asks Diego.
“Solstice,” says Jade in a slow, drawn-out voice. “Who’s that? Hey, are you cheating on me?”
Chopsticks hovering in midair, I shake my head―not that she can see. “Cheating implies exclusivity. And no, I’m not seeing another cop behind your back.”
“Whatever. Just get down here, okay? This is your kind of weird.”
Sigh. “Where’s here?”
“You’re going?” asks Diego.
“Stewart Hotel on Seventh Ave. I’ll have one of the locals meet you in the lobby. Thanks Sol. I owe you one.” Jade mumbles something the phone doesn’t catch, and hangs up.
“Yeah.” I stab my chopsticks into the noodles. “I really don’t want to, but… Never a good idea to ignore the FBI. I gotta help her when she asks so she―”
“Quid pro quo. I hear you.” Diego exaggerates a disappointed look, but he’s canceled our plans often enough over work that he has no room to complain. He knows it; I know it. He caresses my arm, staring into my eyes. “Will you be back tonight?”
“Not sure. I’ll try. But.” I hold up the plastic dish. “I’m not going anywhere until I finish this.”
Originally from South Amboy NJ, Matthew has been creating science fiction and fantasy worlds for most of his reasoning life. Since 1996, he has developed the “Divergent Fates” world, in which Division Zero, Virtual Immortality, The Awakened Series, and the Daughter of Mars series take place.
More recently, he has forayed into young-adult and middle grade novels.
Matthew is an avid gamer, a recovered WoW addict, Gamemaster for two custom systems (Chronicles of Eldrinaath [Fantasy] and Divergent Fates [Sci Fi], and a fan of anime, British humour, and intellectual science fiction that questions the nature of reality, life, and what happens after it.
He is also fond of cats.
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Convergence, by J.R. Rain & Matthew S. Cox
(https://curiosityquills.com/kindle/convergence/)
Solstice Winters has spent most of her life halfway between normal society and the world of her magical parents. Years of always not quite fitting in make sense after a sabotaged experiment reveals an unexpected truth to Solstice. She’s not even human.
Now, magical beings are appearing all over the Earth. Solstice races to be the first to capture evidence of mythical beasts. Alas, being a one herself, she winds up in the cross-hairs of not only a three-letter agency, but a sect of mages with dark intentions.
Prophet of the Badlands, by Matthew S. Cox
(https://curiosityquills.com/kindle/prophet-badlands/)
For most twelve year olds, being kidnapped is terrifying. For Althea, it’s just Tuesday. Her power to heal the wounded and cleanse the sick makes her a hunted commodity in the Badlands. For as long as she can remember, they always come, they always take her, and she lets them. Wandering after an escape, she is found by a loving family who helps her find the courage to defend herself. Her newfound resolve is tested by an ancient evil, and a dangerous man bent on exploiting her abilities.
The Dead Detective, by Rod Kierkegaard, Jr. and J.R. Rain
(https://curiosityquills.com/kindle/dead-detective/)
When hard boiled police detective Richelle Dadd wakes up to find herself lying dead inside a chalk outline, her only mission is to find out who killed her—and laid a Gypsy curse on her that keeps her alive, sort of, as a zombie assassin. Now she must stop them before she is forced to kill again and again.
The Curse Merchant, by J.P. Sloan
(https://curiosityquills.com/kindle/the-curse-merchant/)
Baltimore socialite Dorian Lake makes his living crafting hexes and charms, manipulating karma for those the system has failed. His business has been poached lately by corrupt soul monger Neil Osterhaus, who wouldn’t be such a problem were it not for Carmen, Dorian’s captivating ex-lover. She has sold her soul to Osterhaus, and needs Dorian’s help to find a new soul to take her place. Hoping to win back her affections, Dorian must navigate Baltimore’s occult underworld and decide how low he is willing to stoop in order to save Carmen from eternal damnation.
Appetizer:
Book Cover
Title Page
Main Course:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Dessert:
Acknowledgments
A Taste of Convergence, by J.R Rain & Matthew S. Cox
Closing
About the Author
Copyright & Publisher
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