Page 87 of The Music Demon

Lyric waited quietly, observing. Acutely aware that her body language and reticence transmitted misgivings about calling it quits between them.

Shivaun was projecting herself into the future, near and far, imagining herself not enjoying Lyric’s company; not to mention the uber-orgasmic delights that he delivered effortlessly. Since imagination had, apparently, blossomed in surprising ways, it wasn’t difficult to conclude that it was already too late to ‘ride’ away from Lyric unscathed.

When she didn’t answer immediately, Lyric recognized the pause as an opportunity and rushed in. “Don’t you want to see what happens with Doo?”

She cocked her head. “I’m no’ dependent on you for that. I can take myself to look in on Doo whenever I want, thank you very much.”

“I know, but he’ll be sad when he finds out we’re divorced and it might affect his music.”

“We can no’ be divorced, demon. We would’ve had to be married…”

“Mated.”

“Whatever. We would’ve had to formalize a relationship first. That’s how that works.”

“Still think he’d be upset.”

“You’re no’ playin’ fair.”

Lyric gave a hearty laugh at that. He pointed to himself. “Demon.”

“If you’re usin’ that as an answer, then the joke’s on you. ‘Cause I’ve been payin’ attention. And the reality does no’ so much match the myth.”

“I haven’t been secretive about my intentions. There’re few things I wouldn’t do to make you my mate, Shivaun. You were put on notice from the beginning.”

“Everyone knows boys play games and often say things they do no’ mean.”

“Everybody knows girls don’t have a super ability to tell when boys are lying. But I’m not a boy playing a game with you. And you’re not a girl who can’t tell if I’m lying.”

In a fast and fluid motion, Lyric got to his feet, pulling Shivaun up and into his body. When he angled his head and bent to kiss her, she responded eagerly, greedily and his essence flared bright with… what? Hope?

“How do you want me?”

She ran a hand over his head in a gesture that was too affectionate to think she really meant their time as a goodbye tryst.

“You said somethin’ about a storm.” He gave a single sharp nod, remembering when he’d teased her with suggestions of ways fornication could be made exponentially more pleasurable. “Bring the storm.” As an afterthought, she said, “But make sure the swans are protected.”

He smiled. “The swans are never in danger. They’re magical.”

CHAPTER TWELVEComin’ Back to Me

(Surrealistic Pillow, Jefferson Airplane)

Doo was starting down the stairs as the building manager was starting up.

“Oh,” she said with a bright smile. “I was just coming up to give you this.” She held an envelope up. “Good timing. You’ve saved me the steps.”

“It can’t be a rent due notice,” he said, descending toward her.

She chuckled. “No. You’re good. Somebody left this for you earlier and gave me a nice gratuity for promising to deliver it in person. So here you go.”

She handed it over when his feet cleared the last step.

“Thanks.” He started to open it, but realized she was looking on, apparently waiting to see what it was. “I guess you want to know what this is.”

“Curiosity is natural to humans.”

“And deadly to cats.”