* * *
She stood at a window in Fiona's parlor, naked, with her back to Brian. Their mingled fluids chilled her thighs and she ought to wipe herself, but she couldn't care. Enough of the magic still glowed in her body.
I'll fucking kill Buddy if I ever see him again, she swore. He stole at least ten years of this from me.
You're not out of the woods yet, her critic muttered. What are you going to do when Brian comes to you? What are you going to do when he wants to be on top?
That, she answered, depends on Brian. Right now, I'm in a mood to negotiate.
She heard him stir behind her. She continued to stare out the window without seeing. The orange cat appeared out of nowhere and settled on the sill. She rubbed his shoulder, and he sprawled into her kneading fingers.
"Someone hurt you very badly, a long time ago." Brian spoke just above a whisper, as if he was allowing her some space even in her ears. "Someone long before Dougal."
"Eighteen years ago."
He stood up. She felt the movement more than heard it, and he didn't come any closer.
"Is he still alive?"
"He's still alive. I'll kill him myself, thank you. How did you know?"
"That night in your apartment, the things you said in The Cave, watching you just now. Few women regard sex as torture. At worst, they are indifferent. You forced yourself into this like it was surgery for cancer. Something, somebody, had hurt you deeply enough to scar you to the bottom of your soul. Logic said it was a man, when you were still a child."
He wasn't getting dressed. Her old fears stirred, as if she'd stunned them but not yet killed them dead. There was going to be a problem in another minute or so, if she didn't get dressed. She couldn't clean up, with him between her and the door. She couldn't turn around. He had her trapped, as much as if she was back in chains.
"Tell me about it, sometime. Wait until it comes naturally. I've heard a lot of pain in seventy years. I think you'll feel better if someone else knows what happened to you."
That was one of the basic principals of psychotherapy or the Confessional, she remembered. Pain shared was pain diluted.
"Maureen, is Dougal really dead?"
"I cut his head off. I burned his tower with his body in it. If that isn't enough, I don't want to hear about it."
"I love you, Maureen."
Oh, God. "Of course you love me. You don't have any fucking choice. Ten minutes ago, you loved Fiona for the same reasons."
"No. I've loved you since the night we met. You just wouldn't have listened if I told you. Besides, Fiona used a different spell than you did. I obeyed her. I didn't love her. You broke her spell and left me free. You ripped your own soul apart to do it. I love you."
"I did the same things she did. The forest showed me."
"Maureen, magic power is not a cookbook. You had a different intent in your heart, so the spell changed to meet your needs. You bound yourself to me more than me to you."
He stepped closer, slowly, as if he was approaching a hurt and frightened animal. She felt the heat of his body on her back. The muscles along her spine crawled.
"Men and women don't have to hurt each other. You set the rules. You set the limits. I promise you, I'll stop. No means no."
She smelled him--smelled his musk, smelled her own sweat on his body, smelled the mingling of his semen with her mucus where their bodies had joined. She gritted her teeth against the urge to vomit.
Maureen's hands clamped the windowsill, bracing herself to spin and flee or fight. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to hold her. She shouldn't give control to Jo this time. But it was too soon . . . .
Don't live in the past. Don't live in the future. Do it now, while you still remember how good it can be.
Brian loves me. I love Brian. What he is offering me is a sacrament between a man and a woman. He wants to give me joy, not pain. He is sharing his body, not using mine.
Bullshit. He just wants to fuck you again. Once isn't enough for him. Buddy was like that. Goddamn rabbit, one afternoon he had you twice and still screwed Jo when she got home. At least he used a rubber for her: he never wasted one on you. You weren't old enough for sperm to hurt you.
But his prick could. I bled after the second time. Bled for three days. It hurt to pee.
She swallowed a scream and forced herself to hold still, sweating, trembling, eyes scrunched shut. She couldn't breathe.
Brian loves me. I love Brian.
His hands touched her waist, and she felt his hips snuggle against her bottom. She leaned forward and pushed back against him, and her world caught fire again.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
"Marmalade cat, marmalade cat, how do we leave?"
Maureen stared down at the orange tom sprawled across her lap. She scratched his ears and repeated the question silently in her mind. How the hell could she get them out of this trap?
She closed her eyes and slumped back against the smooth bark of the rowan by Fiona's kitchen door. Just doing nothing felt so damned good. The day had drained her, and it wasn't done yet. They had to get out of here. They had to find Jo and David. Somewhere out there Fiona and Sean waited for her.
Especially Sean.
The cat answered both her questions with a rumbling purr she felt deep in her belly. He was comfortable. If she left, who would provide a lap, scratch his ears, pour out cream on demand? Why should he
