Page 80 of Dead Rockstar

“I’m serious.”

He glared at me. “Oh, just shut up,” I said, grabbing the pillow from him and whacking him with it. “Stop pouting. We’ve been over this already. Who are you to decide what's best for me, anyway? In the scheme of things, you're a week-old baby. And at the moment, you're acting like one.”

His mouth fell open and he stared at me in shock. After a moment, he threw back his head and began to laugh. Then he pulled me to him and kissed me roughly on the lips. I started to push him away, still angry, then I caught his scent and lost all composure. On instinct, I put my hands up into his hair, getting a momentary shock at no longer feeling the long, silky strands. I was still so angry with him, and he was still so angry at me, but we couldn’t stop kissing each other, devouring each other.

He pulled me to him, crushing me to his chest. “Do you know why I did it so fast? Why I just cut the fucking braid so quick without even looking at you a second time? Because if I hadn't, I never would have been able to do it. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving you, but I had to, to give you a chance at a normal life.” His lips grazed my temple, both rough and soft. “You don't understand, Stormy. They won't leave you alone. Lydia might’ve taken a shine to you, but Guthrie…Lee…he won't ever...”

“He will.” I sniffed, pressing my face against the warm firmness of his chest. “I'll make him.”

“You can't,” he said. “He's tied up in you, obsessed. It has something to do with your magic. It's like a scent to him, one he finds irresistible. I suspect that his fascination with you stopped being about his parents a long time ago.”

I buried my face in his shirt. He was right. I knew it. I had known since before we left Jekyll Island, though I hadn't known why. It was a naked hunger, visible and obvious. An attraction that couldn't be denied. And if I was honest, there was a small glimmer of me that found Lee Courtenay attractive, too, enjoyed flirting with the danger. His pale eyes, the dotting of freckles that made him so impossibly boyish, even the air of self-loathing about him, it was all very attractive and familiar. I didn’t want it to be, but it was like a moth to a flame; no matter how guilty I felt about it, no matter how dangerous I knew he was, I kept flitting by him, just enough to singe.

And now I knew why. I was a necromancer – a witch. The same magic that came alive when Phillip was near me was awakened when Lee was near me, too. Their very bodies spoke to the magic within me. The only difference between Lee and Phillip was that I loved Phillip. The base reaction, though, was the same. The thought gave me a shudder. It was magic, that's all. My magic mingling with his, trying to find a common ground. The real attraction, the real love, was right here in this room, with Phillip.

Lee meant nothing at all.

“Whatever it is,” I murmured into his chest, “we'll figure it out. Together. I don't care about them.” I looked up into his eyes, which were full of concern, but tenderness, too. “I want to be with you. If you want to leave, I will never force you to stay. But if you're going to leave, do it because you want to, and not because you think it's what's best.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his face down to mine.

With a swift movement, he rolled me over and positioned himself on top of me, a small, curious smile on his lips. With the shorter hair, he looked slightly older and impossibly sexy. His green eyes flashed in the dim of the room.

“I hope you mean that,” he said, putting his hands on his angular hips, “since you no longer have an escape route.”

“What?”

“If I piss you off, which I inevitably will, you can't just take a pair of kitchen shears to my head.” He laughed. “I'm here for good, it looks like. And if I'm here, I want to be with you.”

I pulled him close to me, breathing in his familiar scent and nestling my head in his neck. His skin was so warm, and I could feel his pulse, strong and steady. “I love you, Phillip,” I said again, grazing his skin with my lips.

He was breathing fast. His hands fumbled with my clothes, but he whispered, “Not just because I'm your favorite dead rock star?”

“That's only the main reason,” I said, fumbling with his belt buckle. “There are so many other great ones to choose from. Like this one, for instance.”

Then our clothes were in a heap on the floor and neither of us said anything else.

Twenty-One

The phone rang, shrill and loud in the quiet of Phillip's old house, the opening bars of Bloody Good Fun echoing through the room. I rolled over, groaning, cursing myself for not putting it on silent before falling asleep.

“Change that ringtone immediately,” Phillip grumbled from where he was buried under a pillow. He unearthed himself and wiped the sleep from his eyes, his hair was sticking up all over his head, making him look about twelve years old, despite the heavy five o’clock shadow on his strong jaw. His eyes were as bleary as mine no doubt were. We'd stayed up half the night, talking and doing other things that definitely didn't involve sleep. “The last thing I need to wake up to is my own fucking voice. I always hated that song.”

“It's one of your best,” I said, giving him a sassy look, leaning over him to grab the phone off the night stand. His skin was warm, and I fought the temptation to pull him back down under the covers with me. I looked down at the phone; the number was unfamiliar, but the area code was for Jekyll. It was probably Sloan. Thank goodness – I was beginning to go out of my mind, not hearing from her. “Totally underrated. And I know your music better than anybody. I'm your biggest fan, remember?”

He muttered something sarcastic in reply and planted a whispery kiss on my shoulder, then was out of bed, pulling his black boxer briefs over his muscular thighs. I dared a quick glance and a wink, and then hit the green button with my finger. “Hello?”

“Stormy.” The voice on the other end of the line was familiar. “It's Lee. Don't hang up.”

“Jesus Christ, Lee-”

“I’ve left town,” he interrupted. “And I don't want to bother you. I just...I wanted to check if you guys were okay – you…and Phillip.”

“We're fine,” I said, watching Phillip's retreating naked back as he walked into the little blue bathroom. All the tension had finally gone out of him, and he was standing straight, posture straightened, no longer weighted down. He was whistling the bars to a song I didn't recognize. Was he writing again? “Better than fine. We're leaving today. Not that it's any of your business. And I trust that your mother won't be bothering us anymore.”

“I'm glad to hear it. And no, she won't. I'm sure you hate her, and I guess you have good reason, but she was just trying to...well. You know. She isn't a bad woman. But I guess it doesn't matter now. I assume you and Phillip are done with all your searching, anyway.”

“For now, I guess,” I answered distractedly. “We know about all there is to know about the spell, don't we? I can figure out the rest on my own. I don’t hate your mother, for the record, but no offense, I’ll be glad to see the back of all of you. Even Guthrie, though I’ve never met him.” I sighed. “I hope I never do. I’m happily going back to Jekyll, out of all of your hair forever.” I almost giggled at the word hair, which would forever have new meaning to me now.

There was silence on the other end of the line. I heard Phillip turning on the shower, the knobs squeaking, the pipes grinding on.

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