Page 149 of Fury

I pulled back and opened the car door to the icy cold winter night. “Let’s go inside.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” I grinned, slamming the car door.

I unlocked my house, tossed the keys on the console table and released the straps of my dress letting it slide down my body to the floor.

He let out a low groan at the sight of me in my lacy silky underthings. “Holy fuck.”

“Oh, I hope so.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure of it.”

He lifted me up in his arms, kissing me as he held me, walking us over to my sofa. He laid me down, bending to kiss me.

I pushed at his chest with my knee and he stumbled back. “Take your clothes off.”

His eyes flared, his body went rigid. He grinned and did as he was told.

“Uh-uh.” I said. “Slowly.” My hand slid between my legs and he let out a groan, the muscles of his torso contracting.

He went slower.

“Hmm. Like that.” I enjoyed the revelation of his body as he took off his clothes, one piece at a time, his eyes intent on me.

Tricky was hot, and I was in need.

Naked, he hovered over me, pushing my legs apart.

I took in a breath. No qualms, no regrets. Good times.

Or so I thought.

42

“What the hell is that?”My voice came out louder than I expected.

On the wall of the bar area where tens of other T&A shots beckoned, Drac tacked up an eighty by ten poster of a woman’s curvy body, her hands clutching her breasts, torso twisted to the side, ass revealed in a sexy panty made up of a web of straps. The photo cut off right at her chin. Winding colored vines of thorns and flowers, tiny winged creatures, numbers, fancy writing were inked all over the woman’s skin.

My chest tightened, the blood backwashed through my veins.

“Tell me you don’t like it.” Drac bit down on a piece of tape.Rip.“It’s an ad for this underwear store in Meager. Krystal went there and she brought this back for me along with some mighty nice lace numbers. Smoking, huh?” His hand smoothed over the model’s raised ass and down the back of her thighs. His hand lifted and the name of the store declared itself in gothic lettering.

I stared at the photo, staring at the vine down the back of her left thigh that was made of tiny linked letter J’s and baby rosebuds. A vine I’d licked countless times a century ago. It was my vine. Mine.

“In Meager?” I asked.

Drac rolled the tape on his fingers, admiring his new acquisition. “Yeah, in Meager.”

Last I’d heard she was in Rapid City.

Years ago, while setting up the WiFi and a new printer in my office, Den had logged on to some celebrity gossip site as he worked. He’d groaned about how the lead guitarist from Cruel Fate, a band he knew, was getting a divorce. Den often worked at local music festivals as his brother owned a security company. He’d worked with Cruel Fate at many gigs in the area.

“What an idiot,” Den had said. “His wife is fucking hot. His bit on the side, not so much.”

After Den had left the room, I’d gone online and typed the fuck’s name in the search engine: E-R-I-C and Cruel Fate. The divorce came up right away. They’d filed in California, citing “irreconcilable differences.” The article mentioned that Eric had a new girlfriend, complete with a photo of him and a smiley young blonde with lots of makeup boarding his tour bus together. The reporter noted that Eric’s wife had been at home all along with their young son. A small inset photo of a woman with a hoodie over her green and blue hair wearing huge sunglasses, holding close to her chest a young boy who wore a baseball cap, a protective hand around the back of his small head, had lasered onto my brain. I’d recognize those long, bony fingers anywhere, the perfect oval of her face, the grim pull of her mouth, taut and resolute against all odds.

My Serena.

---