The Lebrus Stone (24 page)

I dared myself to look at him, see if his eyes held any meaning to how he could make me feel so alive and happy. He peeled away any ability to detach myself from the hungry stroke of his hands now roaming my body like they owned every part of me. I felt ready and eager to allow him inside, to find me like I'd never wished to be found by anyone before now.

I closed my eyes and allowed the wet warmth of his tongue to lick my lips. He moaned my name, tugged on my bottom lip with his teeth and kissing me with as much vigor. It made me light headed, weak as I fell against him. He encased me in his strong arms.

I held him back. I wanted to show him I didn't want him to ever let go of me, not in this lifetime or the next. The taste of him, his touch, his warmth was what I wanted. It was what I needed and yearned to be repeated. I didn't want it to ever come to an end. I didn't want it to take away these desires that were healing me. It was too powerful of a solution, and much simpler than I thought life could be.

And for once, I felt certain of its worth, for once I wanted to stop pretending I was alright.

Although it felt incredible to be kissing someone I wanted beyond belief, it had to come to an end the moment we began to undress each other, the moment our hands itched to peel away at our layers of clothing.

Frustratingly, our clothes refused to unbuckle, untie, unzip in between dizzying kisses. We couldn't go too far anyway, especially not outdoors and so close to the house.

And the realization we were willing to and had come so close began to scare me. It brought me back to my rational self, where I wondered what it was I was doing and why I was
really
letting Cray do it. I had to take my time and think this through. I wasn't some cheap hooker looking for an easy ride with the first guy who made her feel deliriously happy.

My insecurities also resurfaced.

Why did he really want me?

It's not like he ever chose to show me any respect before now, no matter his explanation. Losing my dignity wasn't the way for me to pass over the line of a semi-mid-life crisis. I had to get a firm hold of myself, not his muscular, toned waist.

"What's wrong?" he breathed, kissing my neck in a way that made it feel like my internal organs were moving.

We were leaning against the blossom tree. I was locked in his arms.

"Y…you…ahhm." The kissing had to stop if I was to try and speak coherently.

I tried to pull away, but he was stronger and kept me against him. I found my mouth on his again, pulling him so close to me his heart felt welded to mine.

"Mmmm, I have you," he whispered.

I stiffened.
He had said that in my dream.

His expression was serious, but a satisfied smile lingered somewhere behind his dark gaze.

"What's that supposed to mean?" My voice trembled. I sounded afraid, something he noticed with a deep frown. It made me anxious and worried of seeing a change in him, in me. If he did change, I wouldn't be able to keep up.

"It means I've got you…" His eyes blazed with what seemed like yellow "…protected."

"From what?"

"From everything."

The yellow became enriched with a gold that stole my sight for a moment. I looked away, blinking and returned from the blackness and my confusion.

Cray hugged me and I sank in to the amorous scent of him, his warmth and what felt like the kind of want and love I would never get from anyone else.

It had only been a dream the last time he said those words.

It was just a meaningless dream; a coincidence.

~ * ~

When I opened my eyes perhaps hours later, Cray and I were covered in pink petals; our arms and legs entwined.

He was sleeping with his face nuzzled against neck.

No matter how much my constant doubts resurfaced, I honored the feel of him pressed to me. And needless to say, I was happy, finally happy to be awake and watchful. The world now seemed a better place from one brief and constructive sleep in his arms.

Nothing about him could be wrong or incapable of being special and distinguished. Every part of him, his voice, his hidden meanings, his touch and often cold haste was even a very likable asset. I felt indebted to their need to pull or push me away at any given moment. In time they would have every meaning imaginable to help me grow and evolve.

I couldn't lose him or the emotions he enacted. I would probably be nothing without him, but only because I found it hard to persevere with nobody by my side, nobody of this kind of significance who could wake me from my inner slumber. Even his once cold, condoning ways hadn't stopped me wanting to find out if he could be the one to finally bring me back to life.

It would have been better if he just finished me rather than walked away now, since both choices would have destroyed me. I would just rather it be quicker than the second.

"How long were we asleep?" He yawned.

"I'm not sure, maybe a couple of hours."

He brushed away the petals and sat forward. I did the same.

His mind seemed elsewhere; it often did.

"Are you still worried we're making a mistake?" I asked, half joking, the other half nervous.

He gave me a doleful smile. "I'll always worry."

"But you don't have to worry so much. It's not like we're real cousins. The rest will understand." I placed my hand on his shoulder. He looked away.

"But if you've changed your mind about me already, I'll understand that, too." I wouldn't, but something had to give. I decided it should be me, even if Cray turning me away after all this was to probably break me. But right now, I couldn't deal with seeing him have some inner battle. If we were to make a go of this, I wanted us
both
to be happy.

He took my hand. "Don't say that things like that."

The relief that washed over me made me want to cry. But I kept it in check. No matter how I was feeling about him, I couldn't start acting weak. I had come too far in convincing people I was strong and capable of looking after myself.

"But it's true," my voice broke, giving away how I really felt.

"No it isn't." He smiled sadly and kissed my hand. "I could never change my mind about you." It was him sounding certain now. I shivered. He kissed my neck and whispered, "You're all I'll ever want, Crystal Valdez."

It sounded like a promise to us both.

I shivered again; my heart beat fast.

To some it might have sounded too much too soon and over possessive, to me it sounded romantic. It sounded like he could possibly even love me some day, want me all his life.

I surprised myself and him by straddling him and kissing him eagerly. I was amazed at how natural it felt. I held his face and my breaths became shallow. I couldn't get enough of him. I never would. He kissed me just as urgently, moaning my name like usual, just the way I always wanted him to.

He sighed into my mouth, fueling my need to devour his every taste, experience him in every way, especially the parts unexplored.

But a side of me felt restricted from going any further. I held back when I could have urged him to do more. It was like an arctic wind was cutting of the supply of certain desires. I was cold, though he was hot; our bodies seemed to take turns to be the opposite. And each time we kissed, it felt like heaven, but also forbidden, as if we were crossing unchartered territory that would need us to be prepared before we walked its path hand in hand. It was the kind of path that needed us to be sure and convinced in our union. It seemed as though he was coming to this conclusion, too. His kisses became limpid, sensually fewer, turning to light pecks on my cheeks.

"Now what?" I panted, getting frustrated with the constant change in our emotions.

He swallowed loudly, trying to control his own breathing. "I just think we should take things slower."

"We're just kissing."

He eased me off his lap "We both know we want more.  I can't let us go too far."

"You're making it sound like I'm making you do all this." My eyes stung. He really kept making me want to cry. "Just say it if you're using me whenever you feel like it." I looked away; he put his hand on my shoulder. It was trembling.

"Don't be upset. I'm sorry. You have to find a way to trust I want the best for you." He sounded like a defenseless boy begging for mercy, not the confident and head strong and passionate Cray.

But why? What was he really sorry about? Had he done more than I knew about? If he had, he was unprepared to tell me. He was still being distrustful. I was still willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"I was wrong," he said." You shouldn't keep allowing me to keep coming near you like this; you need to have some restraint."

"What? Now you're blaming me?"

"No…" He rubbed his face. "No it isn't you. It's me. You're right. It's all my fault." He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "I was trying to help you the first time I came near you like this. I was trying to take away any emotional pain. Make you feel better."

I gasped. "What?"

His eyes were red. "It was never supposed to happen, the kiss that is," he drawled out. "And now, now we could be ruined."

"You're being overly dramatic, Cray. We're not
real
cousins!"

"Don't. I don't deserve your pity."

"It's
not
pity. It's the truth. And you said —"

"I've said what I've wanted to, but it doesn't mean I should have. I was only planning to explain why I've been distant. I've done a bad thing." He shuddered. "I've betrayed my conscience. I've betrayed you because I was fooled into it."

"Fooled? By who?" I shook.

Had he been pretending all this time? Was I some sort of a bet?

He shook his head and got up to put his back to me. "It doesn't matter who and why." I stood, too; he brushed off my hand. "It just is," he continued. "I don't think we can be together. Not like this. Especially not this recklessly fast."

"What pain were you taking away from me?" I asked, wanting to change the subject before he really did make me collapse into a sobbing mess.

"…Yours," he said to the side of him.

"Mine? How did you know I was —"

"I sense things," he mumbled. "I sense people's emotions."

"But—"

"That's why I touched you. Well, it's partly why." His voice had a vicious tone to it that made me step back.

"You were…healing me?"

"Yes," he said, awaiting my response with ease. "Don't ask me how. I don't know."

"You touched me to make me feel better. It wasn't to, to, you didn't want to…kiss me."

He turned to me, and without looking at me directly in the eyes, he pursed his lips; his dark eyes intensified with what looked like sparks of red. "I didn't touch you to make a move on you, no. As for the kiss, I wanted it. It just wasn't planned to happen that way."

"So I made you touch me because you felt sorry for me?" my voice warbled.

"In a way." His jaw clenched. He blinked a few times, then glanced at me. His eyes were a sheer white. I had gotten so used to seeing his eyes change, I didn't question it. It just felt like the illusion gave us an extra connection. It felt like it was a way for him to express his mood to me. It made me feel closer to him, even if he kept pulling away. It was all I had right now.

"It was just all too tempting. You…" He sighed. "You gave in, that's all. Most girls do." He winced.

"I gave in because I wanted to, Cray," I bit back. "I was ready. I wanted to experience something good and natural and I did. I won't regret what happened between us, Cray, so stop making me. And I'm not
mos
t girls." My voice broke as I yelled at him.

"Then you're worse than I am," he said, grimly. "You're worse than all of us."

~ * ~

Back at the house, we had a guest for dinner. Reverend Sinclair.

"So," he began, chomping on his fried chicken. "Am I right in saying that Cray and Crystal are seeing eye to eye?"

How had he known we weren't?

Blacksville really was a small town.

Gal snorted. Cray didn't react, just mashed his food. He hadn't spoken since we left the blossom tree. He wouldn't look at me. He hadn't explained what he meant by his last comment that I was worse than all of them. I didn't know whom he meant. I figured I just needed to give him time to communicate. I just hoped it wouldn't take days like the last time he tried to run away from me.

Isobel smiled at Sinclair as if that alone would answer him.

"Hmm, indeed it is the first steps to becoming closer. A family." Reverend Sinclair smiled at her with greasy lips, severing a thigh.

"We're close enough," Zella retorted, flicking back her pony tails.

Gal snorted again.

Cray picked at his food and placed it into his mouth in slow intervals, his thoughts still somewhere else other than what was being embarrassingly discussed like a soccer game.

"And what is so wrong in having an extension to the Lockes?" Reverend Sinclair asked Zella, questionably irritated for a man of God.

"If you're referring to Cray and Crystal becoming closer in other ways, that's not going to happen," Zella insisted. "Cray doesn't date, not really. Besides, they're cousins!"

I wanted to remind her we weren't
real
cousins.

Why was she acting like she was against me all of a sudden?

Sinclair laughed with a deep rumbling in his throat as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. "They're not blood related cousins. And I have a feeling Cray will change. They have my blessing."

I lowered my head. It was probably beet red by now.

Isobel grimaced. "Now, now, let's not make them both uncomfortable."

Cray was still emotionally away from the table, still chewing on his food extra slowly. The discussion was perhaps making him burrow into that self-loathing, brooding part of him. I wasn't sure how to bring him back.