Page 69 of Code Name: Reaper
When I arrived at the town house this morning, I was frantic to find Amaryllis wasn’t there. Then, one thing led to another, and we got right on the road. Which meant I hadn’t eaten since sometime yesterday. I didn’t want to rush her, but if we didn’t eat soon, I’d probably have to run to the corner gas station and grab a candy bar.
We were putting the last of the photos in one of the two boxes we’d found in the basement—which unlike the attic, was scary—when she brought it up first. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” I admitted.
“There’s a pizza place not far from here. We could pick one up and take it with us.”
“Good by me, but we might have to order three.”
Her eyes scrunched. “Why so many?”
“Two for me, and one if you want any.”
“Beer would be good too,” she suggested.
“Agree. And dessert. And something for breakfast.”
“I guess you are starving.”
I didn’t bother telling her I didn’t remember when I’d last eaten. She’d been with me for the majority of the time.
There were so many questions I wanted to ask about the house. The pragmatist in me couldn’t understand why she’d hung onto it for as long as she had. The least she could’ve done was turn it into a rental.
Except it was the perfect example of how differently we looked at things. When I said it didn’t make sense to let it sit empty, she’d said it wasn’t. It was full of memories. When I mentioned how much the chair in the attic was probably worth, her response had been that it was priceless. Everything with Amaryllis was about feelings. It was something I’d learned early on, and it drove me crazy.
Now, though, I was beginning to understand it. That’s what she had left—memories and feelings in the absence of people. Last night, I’d left the town house to go see my mom and dad. I’d needed them, even if it was only to tell me I was a jackass who also looked like hell. If they hadn’t been in town, I’m not sure what I would’ve done. Maybe called. If not them, Blackjack.
Who did she have to call? Until seven months ago, maybe Mercury. The one person she might’ve been able to depend on had turned out not to be who she told Amaryllis she was.
“Ready?” she asked, coming out of the very purple bathroom.
“Not yet.”
“I thought you were starving.”
“I am, and right now, what I need the most is for you to be right here.” I pointed at the floor in front of me. “Closer,” I said when she was still a few inches away. I repeated it until our bodies touched. Then I put one arm around her waist.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
“You gotta be more specific. Until you do, I’m going to keep doing whatever it is you think you’re telling me not to.”
She buried her face in my shoulder. “Being so nice to me.”
“Not ever gonna stop that.”
She pulled away. “I don’t believe you, and?—”
I pressed my lips to hers, and when I did, it was like the floodgates of our passion were thrown wide open. Tongues and hands and torsos couldn’t get close enough. I put my hands under her bottom, lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around me. I moved us over to the hallway wall, pressing her against it with the full weight of my body. I wasn’t hungry for food anymore. I needed Charity more than sustenance. Shewassustenance.
“Kingston,” she breathed more than said, putting her hands on either side of my face.
As hard as it was not to crash my mouth into hers, I resisted. “Yeah?” I sounded as out of breath as if I’d just run my fastest mile.
“I don’t want to wait for pizza.”
“No?”
“Take me to the town house.Now.”
