Authors: Nash Summers
I wanted to get home to ask Silvi how her first day back to school was. I’d seen her off to school in the morning, but was scheduled to work the night shift. Mama told me she’d probably be in bed before I even got home, but I knew Silvi would be up waiting for me to read her a ghost story before bed. She had a difficult time sleeping without one.
Hud had already left for the evening, so there was only Saddie and me left working. There were a few tables still eating and chatting, but the diner was surprisingly quiet.
Saddie flicked on the switch for the coffeemaker while I folded some clean dish towels and put them away in the cupboard behind the counter.
“Date tonight?” I asked her.
Her face turned beet red. “Not exactly.”
I stood up straight and faced her. “Not exactly?”
“Well.” She drew out the vowel as she stared up at the ceiling. She was obviously deciding if she wanted to tell me or not. Eventually, in a quiet voice, she said, “Do you remember that Monroe guy?”
The mention of his name caused my blood to chill, especially when Saddie was the one saying it.
“Yes,” I replied. “He’s fixing my car.”
“Well, we hooked up that one time.”
I turned, grabbed some dishcloths, and began folding them again. Praying my voice didn’t shake, I said, “Did you?”
“I know people say a lot of nasty things about him, but he’s really not all that bad. He can be sweet, even if he does seem lonely.”
I didn’t want to hear this. The words made my stomach clench. “So you’re seeing him tonight?” I asked because apparently I had little self-control.
“Maybe. We only hooked up once, and that was a while ago—that one time you caught me doing the walk of shame. We were both way too drunk that night. When he woke up the next morning and saw me there, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so surprised. The next time I saw him, he told me it was a mistake.” She snorted. “I can’t give up that easily.”
“Oh.”
“Oddly enough, he did mention you, though. That one night we spent together. Chatted my head off at the bar.” Saddie gave me a funny look when I didn’t say anything. “Anyway, I’m planning to stop by his house after work, see if I can change his mind. He’s so handsome and odd. I mean, I don’t know the first thing about the man, besides what everyone else in town is saying. And most of that is probably bullshit.”
“Probably.”
“I know you think something is wrong with him. But unlike you, Mr. Goody-Goody, I find his roughness exciting.”
“Just because something’s wrong with him, doesn’t mean I don’t like him.”
Her expression deadpanned. “There can’t be anything between you two.”
“There isn’t,” I said hurriedly. “I guess I’ve just grown a bit… fonder of him than I thought I would.”
“Good. Maybe you can put a good word in for me.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Saddie.”
“Oh, Levi, you’re such a prude.” Picking up the coffeepot off the burner, she slipped past me and went table to table to refill mugs.
I hadn’t realized I’d been staring vacantly at the cash register buttons until the men from table nine stood in front of the counter. After apologizing and ringing through their bill, another couple came up to pay. They left, and then the diner was empty.
Saddie was near the front entrance, tugging down the blinds over the windows and pulling the metal chain on the LED sign that lit up to indicate we were open. She leaned over one of the tables to wipe it down with a rag, when the bells from the front door chimed.
“Sorry—” Saddie started and then paused.
Monroe stood in the doorway, wicked grin on his face, hair swept back, wearing snug jeans with holes in the knees and a white T-shirt covered in black splotches of engine oil.
“Monroe!” A wide smile covered her pretty face. She tossed the rag down on the table and walked right over to him.
The look on her face was too hopeful, too happy. I felt odd seeing her look at Monroe like that. It felt too intimate, too personal. She reminded me of one of those beautiful women from black-and-white films who’d wait for their lovers on the edge of a train station platform, smiling like the sun had finally shone when they saw their one true love.
“What are you doing here?” Saddie walked up to him, went to throw her arms around his neck, but he caught her arms and gently pushed them back down to her sides.
Monroe looked calm, slick, collected, like this was something he’d done a hundred and one times before. “I’m actually here to see Levi,” he said. His eyes flickered toward me.
“Oh,” Saddie said, obviously uncomfortable. “Because of his car?”
Monroe shrugged.
“How about we stop by Whiskey’s again tonight?” Saddie pressed.
He put a small smile on his face that was faker than the neon green fern we kept in the corner of the diner. “Thought we talked about this, Saddie.”
“About what?” Saddie asked. “You blowing me off after we had a good time? You could at least give me another chance.”
Monroe’s eyes flickered up to me again, and when he saw me staring back at him, listening, he shifted his weight. “We did have a good time,” he said awkwardly. “And you’re a real nice girl.”
Saddie went still. “A real nice girl?”
“It was fun, Saddie, but it can’t happen again. That one time was a drunk mistake—I’m sorry. I can’t give you what you want.”
Even from where I stood behind the counter, I saw tears well in her eyes and spill down her cheeks. She threw her hands up to her face, wiping away the spilled tears. “You know what, Monroe? You’re a real bastard.”
Saddie turned away from him and stormed past me into the kitchen. Her face was red, and tears dripped down her cheeks and neck.
“Saddie,” I said gently, following her into the back room.
“I’ll be okay.” Her voice was rough, hitching when she spoke. “Should’ve listened to my friends and my mama. Men like him aren’t good for anything but breaking hearts. Will you lock up? I have to go.”
“Yes, of course.”
Without looking at me, she pulled off her apron, grabbed her purse off the hanger, and left through the back door with a loud bang.
When I went back out to the front of the diner, Monroe sat on one of the stools at the counter. The lights were all off, but the gentle glow of the streetlights that shone in through the blinds illuminated one side of his face. He looked up at me when I walked through the doorway. My heart began to race.
“What the hell was that about?” My voice didn’t sound like my own. It was low, challenging.
Monroe frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Saddie is a sweetheart. You could’ve let her down a little more gently.”
“Like what?” Monroe shot up to his feet. “With respect? With honesty?”
“You could do a hell of a lot worse than her,” I snapped.
“And I probably have. Does that mean I should lie to her? Tell her I feel something for her that I don’t?” He stopped in front of me, looked down at me as he spoke.
“You could’ve been a bit kinder about it. She seems to really like you. For some reason.”
Monroe barked out a laugh. It sounded harsh and cruel. It suited him. “For some reason? You don’t know?”
“Not a clue,” I sneered.
He took another step toward me, his chest pressing against mine, his thigh touching my thigh. Quietly he said, “Well, Levi, why don’t you ask her, and then you two can compare notes?”
Heat covered my body. Rage was a tangible thing pouring out of me. I put my hands between us and shoved him. “Fuck you,” I bit out.
I spun around, stepping toward the kitchen. I hadn’t even taken two steps when a vise grip grabbed my arm and turned me back around.
Monroe’s eyes were clearer than ice water.
The lights flickered on and then back off again.
He didn’t let go of my arm. He pressed against me, shoved me hard against the wall at my back. The shelves shook, dishes clanked together. He wrapped his other hand around my free wrist, slammed both of my hands against the wall near my shoulders.
A snake slithered up from under the collar of his T-shirt. Its blue scales glimmered in light that wasn’t really there. Another coiled itself around his arm, smooth purple scales running over his skin, pale eyes fixed on me.
The black snake slithered around the side of his neck, coming from the shadows behind his shoulders. It wrapped around his throat, watching me each time it looped around.
Monroe leaned in. There wasn’t an inch of space between our bodies. The bulge in his jeans pressed against my stomach, and I knew he could feel mine pressed against his thigh.
He touched his lips to the sensitive skin below my ear. “That’s not what you want to say to me, Levi,” he said in a low voice. “You want to beg me to fuck you. I can see it written all over that pretty face.”
“You’re an animal.” I meant for it to come off as an insult, but I sounded out of breath.
“And you love it.” He pressed a gentle kiss behind my ear. I shivered.
“It breaks my heart when you look at me like that, like you can’t even stand the sight of me. I watch the emotions play over your face and it makes me want to cause something to bleed. You want me too, but you wish so fucking badly you didn’t,” Monroe said. “Tell me just once, Levi. Tell me you feel this electricity between us.”
Monroe pulled back enough to look at my face, stare into my eyes.
Without blinking, I said, “No.”
He grinned. It was a wolf’s grin. Feral and dangerous.
The grip on my wrists vanished, and for a moment I thought he’d turn around and leave. Instead he fisted the amulet around my neck, forcing the chain to pinch into my skin. He slipped his other hand around to the back of my head, grabbing a fistful of my hair.
And then he pulled me toward him and kissed me.
Could a man lose his soul from just one kiss? If he could, I didn’t give a damn right then.
When I parted my lips against his and pressed my tongue into his mouth, Monroe lost his mind.
His hands instantly fell to my ass, squeezing, taking my breath. He lifted me against him roughly, and I wrapped my legs around his thighs. He thrust against me, and I winced as the back of my head banged against the wall. I gasped, and he stole it away with another kiss. The shelves shook, a glass fell, shattered on the floor.
We were wild together. I laced my fingers into his hair. He gripped my ass hard enough to leave handprints on my skin for days.
The kiss was hot and needy, wet and too rough. I couldn’t get enough of him, of his touch, of his skin touching my skin, of his body pressing against my own.
I closed my eyes and listened to the sizzle and snap of current between us, to the gentle hum in the back of my mind. The hum was a cry from the swamp, a warning, a blessing, a curse. Those black waters ran through his veins, forced his heart to beat, let me listen to how deeply he wanted me.
Small, smooth scales tickled up my arm. They wrapped around my wrist, then my elbow, then to my throat. I tossed my head back again. Another glass fell to the floor in an explosion of crystals.
Monroe bit my bottom lip, ran his tongue along the inside of my teeth, whispered my name.
I was drowning in him.
I was sinking, my body a stone. I begged the current and the waves to pull me under.
And suddenly he was gone. He’d stepped back, staring at me, chest heaving, eyes blazing. The loss of his touch was like a slap to the face. I was cold, impossibly cold. I was empty, hollow, a shell of what I’d been a second ago.
Without a word he reached into his pocket, slammed my set of car keys down onto the counter, and walked out of the diner, the door banging shut behind him.
WARD STOOD
in the distance under a flickering street lamp. When I approached him, head hung, he said nothing. We began walking back home through the dimly lit streets, under the veil of the late-night sky. He barely looked at me, let the silence between us form an uncomfortable, ugly divider.
Eventually, after a painful silence, Ward said, “He is dangerous, Levi. Dangerous for your heart and your soul.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “But I can’t help it.”
“You just do not want to.”
I stopped short. Turning to him, I snapped, “Mind your own business, Ward. This doesn’t involve you.”
His dark eyes blinked at me, his expression blank.
I’d never raised my voice at him before, not in my entire life. It shocked both of us. I raked my hands over my face. “Fuck, Ward, I’m sorry.”
But when I put my hands back down to my sides, Ward was already gone.
Chapter 11
THE CANDLES
blazed. Outside there was nothing but silence. There, in the darkness of my room, shadows danced across the walls. The curtains were drawn. My closed door shut me out from the rest of the world.
I sat in the center of my room on the carpet, candlesticks lit all around me on the floor, my dresser, my nightstand. A picture of my gran lay on the floor in front of me. I hadn’t ever really needed something physical of hers to talk to her, but lately I felt as though I was further from her than ever.
The smell of incense and burning sage wafted through the air. Mojo bags filled my pajama bottom pockets. All of my charms and amulets touched my skin in some way—around my neck, in the palms of my hands.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I was lost in every sense of the word. My head, my heart, my soul—all wanted different things, screamed different things at me, told me what the other wanted was wrong. I’d never felt more out of sorts with myself.
So I thought of my gran. Her kind smile, the way she’d braided her long, blond hair, how she’d always told me what I had to hear, even if I hadn’t wanted to hear it.
I listened to the creaking of the old house, the way the wooden boards shifted and moved. I forced myself to breathe slowly, evenly, when what I really wanted to do was scream.
I missed my gran, everything about her, how once I’d sat in front of the fireplace in the living room, looking up at her as she sat in her rocking chair. She wore a long, red night-robe that was patterned with pictures of tiny black birds. She pushed back and forth slowly as she looked down at me and smiled. And I smiled back.