Page 78 of Roses Are Dead
No wonder I scraped clingers off within a couple of weeks.
“I ain’t lonely.”
Her finger circled the rim like it was her clit or something. She noticed my eyes tracking the motion. “You sure about that?” She paused to dip a finger into the liquid and bring the moistened tip to her mouth.
Her tongue swirled around it before she popped it in to suck the liquor off. That definitely would have broken my resolve.
Funny how my dick could get hard and I could still be angry. For a moment, I imagined Rose doing that. I’d pick her up, plaster her against the wall, raise the fabric of the loose, long dresses she preferred and?—
Measuredly, I spoke two words, “I’m sure.”
Shauna sighed. “I heard you’re shacking up with some chick.”
“That’s right.” I kept my answer short so she could hang herself on the conversation. It was always insightful to let people ramble their thoughts.
She shook her head. “How long did the last one hang around? Two weeks?”
This bitch could go fuck herself with that thinking. The trouble was, she was right. The longest relationship I had was with this club. It came before everything else. That’s the way it was supposed to be. And it was the reason I came here to sort my head out. Rose had gotten under my skin. By doing that, she’d knocked me off balance and exposed a weakness I didn’t know I had. I was immune to pretty. Case in point, Shauna here. She was a beauty. Soft auburn-brown hair, big doe-like eyes, a pouty mouth. Tits for days, and an ass that was perfect size and shape for any marathon banging you cared to sample. And she was professional enough to skirt that fine line of attachment but available.
If I wanted to, I could step up, seize the VP slot, give her a nod, let her jump on the back of my bike, have my position, a steady lay, and never have to worry about catty bitches sinking their hooks in, because Shauna was evil enough to claw their eyes out. And when I got tired of her, I could toss her back into the pool and she wouldn’t get angry about it.
It was a shitty way to treat women. But useful.
And that aimed a realization that struck true, sunk deep into my chest, and skewered me with the sharp barbs of truth. I treated women like shit. I’d planned to treat Rose like shit for stealing from Carl. That’s why I landed here.
Because I didn’t want to treat her like that. I wanted someone in my bed who had my back. Someone would care enough to stay up all night fighting off my brothers and anyone else stupid enough to fuck with me. Someone who didn’t raise an eyebrow when I stood in the rain sharing an ale with my Gods.
Most pointedly, a woman who could distract me from crafty hookers who knew all my weaknesses.
I poured the rest of my drink into Shauna’s glass. “Here. I’m headed home.”
“Good luck with that.”
Whether she meant it or not, I’d need luck.
If only to control my temper… and maybe my stupid dick. It was going to fuck things up. I just knew it.
19
Roishin
The house was so quiet after Bear left. I took advantage of it by laying out all the things he’d purchased and tuning each item to my energy. As I worked, I called on the neutral nature of magic. Neither good nor evil, it existed as everything does, in its own state. My spirit extended outward, creating a vibration of awareness that sensed each element of magic within the house.
Bear’s altar was bright, loud, boisterous. Laughing with gusto and tuned to the place he felt happiest. The bottle of ale in particular held that magical state of promise.
Surrounding and intertwining with that vibrance was something much darker. Powerful. Like the man himself.
I lit a candle and paced through the house. The bedroom sang with vigor. My skin heated. We’d consecrated that space well.
There were corners that sorely needed life. After opening a window, I blew blessings into their dusty spaces over the candle flame to dispel the negative void and bring life back into their stagnation. Even the basement needed a blessing or ten. And a good cleaning. I swept, blessed, and wiped through the entire house, working slowly, eventually rubbing the surfaces with mint-infused cleaning cloths until the place smelled fresh.
Then I laid out the remaining stones and what-not on the grass in the backyard to soak in the sunlight. In my eclectic practice, I did both shadow and light work. My blessings weren’t as powerful as the shield spells or wardings which came to me as easily as breathing, but they were a part of my solitary craft, just the same. Moonlight alone wasn’t enough to boost that magic.
Then I locked the house and took a long walk down the woodland path that eventually ended at the river. In daylight, it seemed so small and not nearly as ominous or wild as it had been that fateful night. I sat on the river bank between the last posts of the dock rooted in the mud. Meditation came easily for a change. My inner frantic pace calmed and thrummed with the languid pulse of the river and land.
Was this what happiness felt like?
I smiled to myself, knowing that it wasn’t just happiness. My body ached in very good ways. Each little pang of exertion was a reminder of Bear.
