Page 46 of Reverence

Katarina, who was glowering at her from the far corner of the bar, propped against the wall, nursing what looked like a glass of water. Or vodka. Her eyes were burning holes in Juliette. Then she turned slightly and gave the dirtiest of looks to Juliette’s dance partner. Hell, Juliette was glad she was not wearing anything flammable, as that glare would most certainly set it on fire.

Anger. There was no other way to describe what Katarina was feeling. It must be anger. And that set Juliette’s own banking coals of rage into overdrive. She missed a step and her partner caught her, bringing her even closer, smiling down at her, and Juliette smiled back before the sound of glass breaking made her turn. She knew immediately whose tumbler had shattered.

Katarina was already moving from her dark corner of the club to the exit, leaving behind shards of glass and gawking strangers. The curious, ogling, and leering stares just madeJuliette angrier. The power Katarina had. Over strangers. Over her.

No fucking way. No fucking way this woman is going to do this to me. To ruin my night like this, in tantrums and hysterics.

In hindsight, as Juliette quickly apologized to her confused dance partner and chased in the club’s darkness after Katarina, she might’ve realized that she had indeed allowed her night to be hijacked by this very woman, since here she was, on the sidewalk, looking both ways to determine which Katarina could have gone.

A taxi screeched to a halt right in front of her, and Juliette almost jumped out of her skin as a livid Katarina glared at her from the back seat.

For a heartbeat they just stared at each other, then, as Katarina lifted her chin in challenge, Juliette balled her fists and got in, slamming the door.

Katarina opened her mouth, whether to insult or admonish, Juliette was not certain and, honestly, not that interested. She had many things to say. Months’ worth of things to throw at this woman who had become the bane of her existence. It was time to say them all. It was time to either embrace Katarina Vyatka or purge her from her mind. From her other body parts too.

“We’ll talk when we get home,” was all she said and was supremely satisfied when Katarina’s face turned confused and then perhaps…concerned?

Good. Be concerned. Be very concerned.

Juliette was done with the endless silences and the unspoken longing. With the judging. With the patronizing. It would all end tonight.

Belatedly, as the driver turned his head to her and asked, “Where to, mademoiselle?” she realized she had called her apartment their home and wanted to bite her tongue. But theman was waiting, and all she said was, “Rivoli, corner of Rue d’Alger,” before the car sped up into the night.

17

OF BITTEN LIPS & CONFESSED FANTASIES

It was a truth already established that Katarina was good at silences. They suited her. They seemed to complete her. At any other time, Juliette would have reveled in how fitting absence of sound was.

As the taxi pulled to their apartment building on the deserted Rue de Rivoli and Katarina bolted up the stairs without saying a word, the silence just made Juliette angrier. She knew she was the one to decree they’d talk at home, but she also knew she had left her rational thinking at the dance club.

Not five hours ago they had shared a wonderful moment on stage, a moment that was followed by Katarina disappearing only to throw a jealous temper tantrum in Le Palace.

It didn’t matter to Juliette that there were no witnesses to said temper tantrum. She knew Katarina enough to realize how immense the outburst had been, by her standards. And how ridiculous.

Well, enough of that. Enough of these unsaid words and half-acknowledged emotions. Tonight was the night they’d finally lay their cards on the table.

Just as soon as Juliette caught up with Katarina, who had suddenly found her third and fourth wind and was taking the stairs three at a time.

Fuck this…

Juliette pressed the button of the elevator she rarely used and stewed all the way to the top floor. She exited the old and loud contraption just in time to reach the door first, cutting off Katarina’s access to a refuge. Oh, Juliette understood all too well that if she let her enter the apartment before her, Katarina would hightail it to her own bedroom and all Juliette’s oaths of having conversations and explanations would be up in both the proverbial and not-so-proverbial smoke. Katarina would chain-smoke the night away and in the morning would pretend absolutely nothing had happened.

Fuck that too…

She entered the apartment first, leaving Katarina to close the door behind herself. Juliette stood her ground a step away, effectively blocking her from going any farther. With thesnickof the lock Katarina finally turned around, and her eyes narrowed at facing an irate Juliette. The gesture, the familiar show of displeasure, only served to incense Juliette more.

She drew in a breath, noticing Katarina’s chest rising and falling. Another one. In the quiet of the apartment, the ticking of the clock sounded like the timer of a bomb.

One second… Katarina’s shoulders tensed, her eyes like burning coals, full of fire now.

Two seconds… Juliette gulped.

Three seconds…

Katarina grabbed her by the open collar of her blouse and their mouths met in a kiss that Juliette could only describe as violent. And then Juliette stopped wanting to describe anything. Her mind simply couldn’t keep up with whatever was happening.

Lips and tongues and teeth. Katarina turned them swiftly, Juliette’s back hit the front door, and she moaned, not in pain, but in exhilaration.

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