A Taste of Ice (7 page)

Behind the bar, Ryan switched on a voice with a clear invitation. “Hi there. What can I get you?”

Cat must not have heard him, because she reached Xavier and stood as close to him as she had on the street. Closer even. The pub boiled hot. He hadn’t showered after work and a new layer of sweat broke out over the old.

Melting snowflakes made the ends of her hair glitter and he stared like a baby watching shiny things.

Three seconds. Three seconds. Three seconds. Shit, how long had it been?

Her smile started to shake. “I asked the concierge at the Margaret to recommend a local pub. I had no idea you’d be here.”

Ryan wagged a finger between them. “You two know each other?”

“No,” Xavier and Cat said at the same time.

“But I can change that,” she said, and her smile turned into a brilliant jewel. “I’m Cat.”

Her throaty, wind-wracked voice made him rock on his seat. The movement told his mind what his body already knew: he’d grown hard and was only getting harder. This goddamn body. If he could abandon it in a cold, lonely hole, he would.

Ah, good
, whispered the Burned Man close to his ear, and Xavier closed his eyes against the repulsive sound.
She came back to you. She wants it.

He could sense the awkwardness surrounding him, and when he opened his eyes he saw it straight up. Cat gazed back at him with an odd look, and he knew she was considering whether or not he was crazy. Ryan’s eyebrow crooked in a clear
What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?

This is what the Burned Man had done to him, and Xavier hated it most of all: how his hang-ups made him appear to the Primaries he was trying to imitate.

Look at her.
The Burned Man’s smugness invaded Xavier’s brain with barbed spikes.
You can just tell how good she’ll feel around your dick.

Shut up. Just shut the fuck up.

I’m part of you. You can’t ignore me.

Maybe Xavier couldn’t ignore the Ofarian ghost…but he could talk right over him. Drown him out.

Xavier looked her right in her toffee-colored eyes. “Short for Catherine?”

Her smile nudged its way back. Her bare shoulders dropped, relaxing. She shook her head, one long wave of hair falling over her shoulder. It swayed over her chest and he refused to give in to its temptation.

Never knew you for a tit man. Just two roadblocks on the way to the real goal.

“Caterina, actually. And you’re Xavier.”

He played along. “How’d you know that?”

“The, uh, blond woman at Shed. It’s a great name. Xavier. Any story behind it?”

“Not an interesting one.” Just a pathetic one.

All this talking, 267X. It’s not like you. You’re just delaying the inevitable.

Instinctively Xavier’s body started to tense, but he fought it. Ground his teeth against it, determined not to give the Burned Man any satisfaction or acknowledgement. Determined not to give Cat or anyone else any more clues that he was seriously Fucked Up.

He took a giant swig of his beer.

Ryan tapped the bar in front of Cat. “What’re you drinking?”

She swiped at her hair, now damp on the bottom half from the melted snow, and let out a short laugh. “Maybe I shouldn’t have any more. Had too much wine at dinner. Look how brave it made me. Maybe a glass of water? With ice?”

“You got it.”

Ryan left. Xavier’s fingers started to twitch, his thumb and forefinger pinching together over and over, longing for a chef’s knife. It wasn’t too late to get up. It wasn’t too late to…

Cat pressed a hand to her forehead. Though she wore all sorts of shimmery makeup that made her face glow, her fingernails were short and unpainted, the skin around them ragged.

“Jeez, I feel like a stalker. Really, I’m not. I swear. I came in on the red-eye this morning from Florida and I’m beyond tired. Figured I’d try to stay awake for a bit to adjust to the time change—” She cut herself off, pressing her lips together.

He realized, with a sort of virgin fascination, that she was nervous. To be around
him
.

“Well, Xavier, it was nice of you to allow me to embarrass myself in front of you. Again. I’ll leave you to your drink.” She gave this endearing salute with two fingers and started to turn away.

You won’t let her leave. You want inside her.

“You’re from Florida?” Xavier asked.

Atta boy
, chuckled the Burned Man.

She peered at him. “You thought I’m from L.A, didn’t you?” He nodded. “Shame on you.”

Ryan slid a tall, narrow glass of water in front of Cat. Though he moved away, he still watched her.

Don’t worry about him. I brought her for you
.

“You’re not part of the whole Hollywood thing?” Xavier’s
voice sounded loud to his own ears, but the Burned Man’s mumblings faded a bit into the background and he felt encouraged. A little pumped up, even.

“Noooo.” She waved her hands as if warding off evil. “I’m a bartender. And a painter. I’m here to open my first show at the Drift Gallery. You know it?”

“Yeah. Sure.” He traced a water ring on the bar with his finger. “That woman you had dinner with, she works there, right?”

By the way Cat smiled, he realized he’d revealed just how much he’d stared at her during dinner. “Helen Wolfe. She owns it. Do you know her?”

He shook his head. The Drift was for the wealthy tourists, not people like him.

Xavier still faced the bar, and with the lack of seats, Cat had sort of wedged herself between him and the guy on the next stool. Her arm, clad in that fuzzy red sweater, stretched long beside Xavier, boxing him in, sending his opposite shoulder into the wall. She held her water glass and absently began to stroke her thumb and forefinger up and down it, drawing seeping lines through its sweat.

The Burned Man lifted his gravelly voice.
Check that out. That could be you
.

But Xavier had already latched on to the movement. He tore his eyes away and swept them toward the ceiling. His whole body thrummed, tuned to every one of her breaths, every little flinch.

“On the street this morning, I really thought I recognized you.”

He coughed and clenched his pint glass. “You don’t. Believe me.”

“No, I know that now. Still, there’s something
about
you. Can’t put my finger on it.”

The low, dreamy tone in her voice drew his eyes back to her. Every time he did that—looked away and then looked back—the sight of her struck him. A full-body blow. Except now it wasn’t just her face and mouth and legs and shoulders that left him bruised and wanting more. The humor in her words, the ease with which she’d approached him—several times now—awed him. She walked around with this casual, comfortable air, and he wished he owned that, too.

Her palm circled in front of his face, as though she were trying to divine a memory from the atmosphere. “Ah, well. It’s probably something dumb, like you remind me of someone from high school or someone I met on the road.”

Xavier knew she’d given him an opening, an opportunity to make real conversation—something he’d never done with any woman except Pam since moving here—but he couldn’t get his mouth to work. And the Burned Man’s suggestions were getting even more vulgar and nasty, morphing into bugs that wiggled through his ears, ate at his brain, and tried to put words in his mouth. If he talked, he feared what might come out.

That’s right. Years ago you would have just told her you wanted to fuck her and she would have let you. Weak women love that, when you take control. Do it now, 267X.

Caterina was no weak woman. And that realization nearly pushed him off his chair.

Suddenly she frowned and reached into the pocket of her jeans. She pulled out a buzzing phone. “What does he want at this hour?” she mumbled, reading whatever it said on the screen. Then she turned it off with a “Sorry about that,” and lifted her eyes back to his. “My sponsor, I guess you could call him. Double checking on a dinner we have tomorrow. Apparently he doesn’t sleep.”

First Ryan, then this “him” on her phone…and she was paying attention to Xavier.
Talking
to him.

Maybe talking to a woman was good. Maybe, instead of fleeing from the threat of sex and constantly trying to hide, he should stop. Plant his feet. Face it head on.

“So…” His throat dried up, closed. He swallowed, tried again. “So are you going to see any of the festival movies?”

Her eyes darted side to side in thought. “I don’t think so. That seems kind of pathetic to admit, doesn’t it?”

Oh, holy stars in hell
, said the Burned Man.
You’re boring the shit out of me. You’re only making yourself miserable. It’s been
years.
She’s begging for you. You deserve her. You deserve a good, old-fashioned, guilt-free orgasm. Like the kind you used to have.

What Xavier deserved was freedom. True freedom that had nothing to do with escaping a physical cage. Running hadn’t done anything for him. His past always caught up. He’d run
from the Burned Man for three years, ever since Xavier had left him behind in San Francisco, but time hadn’t destroyed the ghost. Xavier’s completely whacked-out, funhouse-mirror view of relationships had just skewed even further away from normal.

He was really fucking sick of it, and it was going to end. Starting tonight.

“Would you like to go?” he heard himself say, and didn’t quite recognize the voice. “To a film? With me?”

The second the question came out, panic swept in, tilting the pub, making him grip the edge of the bar for stability. The strangest thing set him right: her clear, sunny smile. And it had absolutely nothing to do with sex.

“Which one?”

He shrugged. He didn’t even know how to get tickets. Maybe Pam could help. “Hey, Ryan. Do you have a festival schedule?”

The bartender reached behind the cash register and handed him a folded brochure. There was a screening tomorrow at 9:00 a.m.

Cat pulled out her phone again. “I’m free tomorrow morning. Well”—she gave him a wry grin—“later this morning, that is. Are you?”

He glanced at the clock. Nearly 1:00 a.m. He didn’t have to be at Shed until eleven. “Yes.”

He slid from the stool. In the tight space his body suddenly pressed against hers, and holy shit, he could feel her heat, smell her scent, made all the more sweet by the melted snow. She slowly tilted her face up to him, her shiny lips forming a lazy O, as if she, too, had felt that zing of energy. That ripple of desire.

She was a foot shorter than he, but in those tall heels her mouth drifted closer. He could already tell she’d be soft. Wet. He could tell she wanted him to grab her. He could tell that everything the Burned Man had said about her was true, that she’d open for him if only he’d ask.

His whole body went rigid. Goddamn, he was such a fool. How had he managed to trick himself into thinking he was better than he was an hour ago? What sucker actually believed in miracles?

The Burned Man took advantage of Xavier’s weakness and
broke through the barricades, screaming:
Do what you were fucking born to do!

A great shudder wracked Xavier’s body and he stumbled back, sending the bar stool into the wall. He hadn’t touched his magic in years, and now this one woman had him stretching for it twice in one day. Maybe if he made himself invisible…

Cat reached for him.

He danced away from her touch. “I’m okay.”

Ryan was looking at him. So were a few other customers.

Stop running. Turn and fight.

“Nine o’clock?” he mumbled to her, snatching his coat from where it had fallen to the floor. “Outside the Gold Rush?”

Cat nodded and said, “All right,” but he could see the doubt playing across her face.

He didn’t give her a chance to say anything more. He swung around her, shoving his arms into his coat sleeves as he headed for the door. He didn’t zip the coat though, and when he burst outside the slam of zero-degree air froze his skin. He needed that.

As he stomped down Groundcherry, his raging hard-on told him the bag in his basement was about to get ripped from its chain.

If she didn’t show up tomorrow, nothing gained, nothing lost. He’d go back to being who he’d always been.

Michael’s double was taking a meeting with one of the directors
of a Croatian documentary. Rumor had it a bidding war over distribution was about to start, and he wanted in, if only to say that his studio won.

His main body stood in the garage of the rented house, staring into the ever-present ash and murk inside the fire elemental’s cage. She’d finally fallen asleep and lay cloaked in smoke on her side, black hair swirling over her outstretched arm. Her body was insane. All hard muscle and not a fold of fat.

Sean had drilled holes along the top edge of the box to let out more of the smoke and, in the event she decided to speak, they’d actually hear her.

Michael’s phone rang and he whipped it from his pocket. “Why haven’t you called until now? And why aren’t you here?”

“Didn’t Sean give you the message?” came Lea’s pleasant voice. “I’m out hunting.”

“For another water elemental.”

“That’s right.”

He heard the faint clicks of snaps, the rustle of fabric, as she dressed.

“Jesus.” He shook his head, but couldn’t keep the smile from creeping on to his face. “I can’t believe you found another one.”

“Well, I did. I’ll bring her to you in a few days. There are some things I still need to hammer out.”

“It’s a woman?” His mind spun. “Do you know what this could mean? That I have more than one water elemental? A man
and
a woman? I could create more.” Lea said nothing, and
he started to pace. “Make sure the new one’s not violent. Nice and trained, like Jase and Robert.”

She made a sound like she was insulted. “Don’t worry. It’ll be taken care of.”

“Yeah, well, the present you left on my doorstep is quite the handful.”

The woman in the cage shifted, rolling half onto her back. She had great tits.

“You like her?” Lea’s voice lightened. “I thought you might.”