For Your Heart (Hill Dweller Retellings) (18 page)

    
“And what are you going to do with my heart when you cut it out of my body?” I demand.  “You going to slap it onto a silver platter and hand it over to the Summer Queen?  Or are you going to plant it?  How does a heart make a rose, Tamrin?”

    
Tamrin launches himself at me with such force that my elbows buckle and we collapse onto the bed.  He slaps his hand over my mouth and shoves me hard into the pillow. 

    
“Hush,” he hisses. “Faeries have ears everywhere.  I will learn how it is done.  I will restore the rose.”

    
I struggle underneath him and when he doesn't budge, I shake my head wildly until his hand falls away from my mouth.  I dagger him with my eyes.  “You better figure out before you off me, Green Man. Hearts don’t stay fresh without their living human.”

    
Tamrin looks at me with surprise.  “Offing you?” he says with a laugh.  The feeling of his laugh vibrates through his stomach and between my legs.  I have trouble not clenching that sensation closer.  “What makes you think I'm simply going to off you?”  He sounds far too amused as he leans harder, flattening his entire body against mine, and brings his mouth flush to my ear.  Then he whispers:  “I'm going to torture you first.”

    
A hot whip-cord lashes down my spine, making my legs spasm and a profuse blush erupt along my skin.  I should be screaming bloody murder at his threat, but his physical proximity, the amused purr in his voice, the way he pressed subtly against me makes me think he's threatening something completely different…Something having to do with the animal in my lower abdomen demanding to crawl out and swallow him whole. 

    
I fight the urge to pull my hands away from where they're braced against his chest and clutch the cross hanging around my neck.  I don't want to show him my fear or my unfamiliar elation.  I don't want him to know he's making me think things I shouldn't be.

    
But Tamrin knows.  He reads my body.  Knows how hot I suddenly feel, he knows how quickly my heart beats, he knows how coiled to spring my muscles are.  He knows I want him and that’s probably why he’s threatening to play with me before killing me. 

    
He props himself on his elbows and stares at me.  His face is so close. I need only arch into him and I could kiss him.  I don’t care if he’s crazy or a faerie-lord.  His eyes search mine and his knuckles smooth over my brow with a feather-light touch. 

    
Holy cow, how does he do this?  I was pissed three minutes ago and now I want in his pants.  He’s right.  He
is
good at his job.

    
No.  I can't want him.  He's bad.  Less than a year from now, he's taking that dagger and killing me.  No, he’ll torture me first.  Not torture, tease.  Like he's doing now.  Like a cat playing with its mouse before eating it.  He will have my body then take my heart and leave me cold and dying.  …And I will let him. 

    
No, I
won't
let him.  That’s not fair to me.  I push at him.  “Get off me.  Please.”

    
Tamrin blinks in surprise.  “What?”

    
I shove at him with closed fists.  “Please, Tam,” then grasping for something else, I say, “I have to start dinner.”

    
He grabs both my fists and cuffs them at either side of my head with his hands.  “Let your Dad do it,” he says.

    
Dad.  Oh crap, Tamrin is doing this to me with my dad in the house.  Though with the way they’re all of the sudden so buddy-buddy, Dad might throw confetti if he caught me and Tamrin like this.  Speaking of…

    
“What did you do to him?  Why are you two suddenly best buds?  And how'd you get into the school?  What the hell did you do?”

    
Tamrin's lips curl into a frown.  “You really want me to answer all those questions?”  Foreboding tinges his voice and I know I'm not going to like what he says.  But I don't understand what's happening.

    
“Yes,” I manage, my voice so strained it comes out as a croak.    

    
Tamrin takes a deep breath and holds it.  He frees my hands and adjusts his position so he's braced on his forearms with his hips wedged between my legs.  I don't know how he managed to get himself there, but I can't do much about it – other than pray he doesn't go farther.

    
“Other than Manifesters, we have
Aos Si
with other Talents.  I performed
favors
for a number of them to achieve this outcome,” he says carefully.  His eyes watch mine, ready for negative response.  “Time passes differently in Otherworld.  While you were in school one day, I had nearly three days to find, favor, and plan this situation.”

    
“And what exactly
is
this situation?  Who are you supposed to be?  Some sort of visiting cousin?”

    
Tamrin shakes his head.  “No, Jean.”  His eyes glaze in thought for a moment and then he says.  “Have you forgotten that I'm a lot older than I look?”

    
I might have…Is it creepy to have a crush on an older man?  Even if he looks my age?  Vampires do it all the time, right?  “No.”

    
His eyes unfocus, his mind lost within itself. “I’ve been recalling memories so old and fragmented that they feel like they have cobwebs.  One of these memories gave me the idea.  A very long time ago, I don’t even remember guarding the roses then, but I remember a younger you.  There was a boy your age.  I know he was very close to you. I planned around this memory.”

    
Realization slams into me with such force, my head physically smacks into the pillow.  Timmy.  This guy is pretending to be Timmy.  Has to be, I was never close to any other boy.  And he used magic to do it.  Which means…he’s not crazy.  He’s telling the truth about Summer Court and faeries.  Hurt and rage well in me as I stare at the
Aos Si
who saw me with Timmy before his disappearance and stole that memory to make his own.

    
Unbridled betrayal wells in me. Before I know what I’m doing, I punch Tamrin.

    
He doesn't budge an inch.  I cradle my hand to my chest as I begin crying and yelling and struggling to get out from under him.  Words spill out of me, blurring together.  “I can't believe–!  You're a horrible person!  How could you use Timmy's memory? 
My
memory?  What did you do?  Take his life from everyone who knew him?  How could you just erase–?”

    
Tamrin remains still as I pound against his chest and cry myself into wracking sobs.  He lets me roll onto my stomach and sob into my pillow.  He slides over me and lays there like his weight alone can keep my heart from breaking.

    
“I'm sorry,” he whispers.  “You wanted magic.”

    
Not this kind of magic.  This is evil.  My memory of Timmy is sacred and this monster defiled it.  “I hate you.”

    
He presses his face against my hair and speaks into my unkempt tresses.  “No Jean, you don't hate me.  You never did and never will.”

    
His tone is so familiar—my mind screams to turn and verify that he is indeed Timmy.  It makes me hate Tamrin even more.  He's made my mind think he is the one boy I’ve ever loved.

    
“You're trying to make me forget him,” I whimper.  “I won’t let you.  I'll never forget him.”

    
Tamrin lifts his head, as if I've said something incredibly interesting.  “The Bender's magic is not supposed to affect you.  I made certain to ask that she not meddle with your thoughts or memories.  I had no intention of hurting you.”

    
“She's not doing what you told her,” I snap.  “Every day you seem more and more like Timmy and I hate you for it.”

    
Tamrin’s fingers slide through my hair.  “I never sought to replace your friend.  I merely sought to inhabit the idea of a close childhood friend.  One that your father would trust and allow as a member of the family.”

    
I turn and glare at him.  He looks genuinely bewildered and if I could swing at this angle I'd give him another black eye to match the one I hope he's developing.  “Looks like you didn't fully satisfy your Bender, Mr. Faerie Whore. She's taking out her sexual frustration on your deal,” I sneer, trying my best to put dripping venom into my words.  The words seem to hurt me more than him, though.

    
Tamrin only pulls away, looking deep in thought.  After a moment he gets up and slips through the door.

    
Sobbing, I sit up and stare around my empty room.  For whatever reason, I don’t like it.  Have I pushed him away entirely?  Have my words finally hurt him enough to shove him out for good?  Will he go home and never come back?  It’s what I want, right?

    
Then why does it feel wrong?  Why do I hate that I called him that?  Why do I want to run after him?

Tamrin

    
Leah is sitting in her recliner and reading a romance novel.  I'm fairly certain she and I are close to the same age by Earth standards.  She's been posing as a college student for the past few years.  I’m thankful for that, at least.  I don't know what I would do if she went to Mary Magda.  She'd give Jeanette all sorts of hell, no doubt.

    
“Something's wrong with your Bend.”  I pace the room, unsure of how to handle the information Jeanette has given me.  She shouldn't be confusing me with someone from her past.  We don't know each other. 
We know each other better than anyone
.  I stop and rub my temple.  No.  While it may feel like I know Jean like the back of my hand, it’s because of the favors I called in.  There’s nothing real about it, it’s all fake.  Gah, this whole affair is messing with
my
head.  How could Leah screw up so badly?

    
Leah glances up from her book.  “I don't mess up my Bends,” she says, voice flat.

    
“Jeanette thinks I'm the friend,” I explain.  I know she understands what I mean.  I had to tell Leah what had happened to get her to help me.

    
Leah lifts a perfectly plucked eyebrow and unfolds her stick-thin legs.  A female
Aos Si
will usually manifest more angelic traits that make her look more beautiful than humans.  While Leah is pretty in an otherworldly sort of way, she has also manifested a number of human traits.  She’s waif-like and really, there’s nothing different or overly appealing about her when compared to everyone else in Otherworld.  Though on Earth, I assume she gets plenty of interest.  She smoothes out her jeans and shakes a mane of soil-brown hair.

    
“Well, that's interesting,” she muses in her high, almost child-like voice.  It's unnerving to make love to someone with a voice like that.  Love.  Hah.  There is no love between me or any of the women I’ve been with.  Only lust.  Ice.  An endless bed of ice.  “Maybe you are?” she teases.

    
I scowl at her.  “That's not funny.”

    
She smirks.  “Not for you maybe.”  She comes toward me and places her hands on my chest.  “You're going to stay awhile aren't you?”

    
I open my mouth, but shut it without responding. 
Jean.
  More than ever, I don't want to bend to Leah’s lust, but do I have a choice?  I need to get through the gate and I can’t if I don’t give Leah what she wants.  “I have to see Roxel,” I say after a long moment.  “I need to figure out what's going on.”

    
Leah scrunches her nose at the mention of her queenly cousin and backs away from me.  “She's going to figure it out, you know.  You and I both know Roxi, she’s not simpleminded.”

    
I close my eyes.  “I almost wish Roxel would find out.  Maybe it would be better if she killed me and got it over with.” 
Jean would be safe then
.  I frown at myself. 
But then I’d be dead
. 

    
Leah steps forward and smoothes her fingers over the back of my neck.  “You don’t wish that.”

    
“No, I don’t,” I admit.  “I don’t have a death wish.  It’s Jeanette’s fault, so logically she should pay for it.”  But I don’t believe my own words.

    
“That’s the spirit.”  She pats my chest.

    
I glance down at her, hating her even more.  I could just kill her.  I could get through the gate whenever I wanted then.  But would I be any better than what Jean thinks I am?  
Am
I any better?  She called me a whore…Is that what I am?  I suppose so.  I pay my way through life with my body.  That’s all I’m good at.

    
I pull away from Leah and collapse onto the couch, the wind completely out of my sails. 
It’s all I’m good at
.  I’ve always known that was my lot in life…to be a whore.  But, for just a few days, I felt like something more.  Like I could have a real life with real value…with someone who didn’t think of me as a whore.