I never suspected before I knew. “I notice times when your gait changes. But it’s only because I know.”
“The stump bothers me from time to time.”
“Thank you for sharing this with me.”
He rubs his thumb over my hand again. “I was thinking we might go for drinks later.”
“But not Duncan’s?”
“I’m afraid not. We’ll need to find a different drinking hole.”
I look at the street. He’s right. The rain didn’t last long. “Looks like it’s stopped.”
I’m almost disappointed. I like hiding in this little cubby with Sin, away from the rest of the world. “I do believe you’re right.”
We leave the refuge of our hiding place. We resume our former path along High Street toward Edinburgh Castle and come up on a line of sidewalk vendors. There is a wide variety of goods and services but one in particular catches my eye: a psychic medium.
People claiming to be able to communicate with the dead and see the future have always interested me, mostly because I like observing how they read people. I don’t believe in them for a second but I’d like to see how this one will take my words and reactions and use them to facilitate what she should say next. “I want the psychic to read me.”
“Don’t tell me you believe in fortunetellers.”
“Of course not. It’s for entertainment purposes only.” He looks none too excited, so I grab his hand and give it a yank. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
We go over to her table and the lady smiles. “Mornin’ to you. Would you like a reading?”
“Yes.” A real psychic would already know that. “How much?”
“Twenty pounds for one or thirty for the both of you.”
“Both, please.” I have faith Sin won’t be easily manipulated, so I want to see how she’ll pull this off.
“I agreed to come over with you, not participate.”
“Sorry. I’ve already paid for you.” I look at the psychic and smile. “He’s going first.”
“Take a seat.” She gestures toward the stool opposite her.
Sin stares daggers at me but does as she asks. “I’ll remember this later and so will you.”
“I’m Mary.”
“I’m …”
“No,” she quickly interrupts. “Don’t tell me anything.” Hmm … that’s unexpected. “Have you ever been to a medium or psychic before?”
“No,” we answer in unison.
She positions a notepad and prepares to write. “I communicate with those on the other side using a sixth sense. It isn’t always exact so a lot of times I must interpret the things I see, feel, and sense.” Of course it isn’t an exact science. If it were, it could be explained and therefore, she couldn’t milk money out of people. “Any questions before we begin?”
“No,” Sin replies. I shake my head.
She puts pen to paper and begins to write a series of numbers. “Do the numbers five, ten, and thirteen mean anything to you?”
He hesitates before answering. “Aye.”
“The young girl I see—she was five when she died ten years ago on the thirteenth. Do you understand this?”
Sin looks up at me, clearly spooked, and then back to Mary. “Aye.”
“Her name begins with a C. Something like … Clara.”
“Cara.”
“Oh, good.” She sketches a heart dangling from a chain. “And she wore this?”
“That’s her locket.”
“Perfect. And this young girl was your sister?”
Sin brings his hand to his chin and rubs it, something I’ve noticed him do when he’s uncomfortable. “Aye.” He looks up at me and then to Mary. “Who gave you this information?”
“Cara.”
“Cara’s dead.”
“Thus the reason I’m able to communicate with her.” Mary returns her pen to the paper. “It’s hard for me to catch my breath. This is my sign she died with something related to the lungs.” She stops drawing. “A terrible thing was done to that child but she wants you to know she did not suffer.”
“She was murdered—smothered. We’ve never found out who did it.” Sin appears to be growing more anxious. “I need to know who it was.”
“I see the shadow of a man in a dark room, her bedroom, I presume, but I can’t make out his face.”
“Can you tell me anything? Is he young? Old? Tattoos?” Oh my God. He’s actually feeding into this. This woman is damn good.
“Your sister’s moved on to a different image. That’s my sign telling me she doesn’t want you to dwell upon what happened to her.”
“What are you seeing now?”
“You—and you’re happy. She wants you to know you’ll find joy in a family of your own. You’ll have a wife and children, and soon, from the looks of what I’m seeing.”
What bullshit!
Mary turns the page of her book. “Are you ready, my dear?”
I nod but say nothing as Sin stands to switch places with me. “Your mother has passed?”
Sin knows this but I must be careful about what I admit to so nothing contradicts what I’ve told him. “Yes.”
“And a mother figure as well.”
Hmm … if this were real, I’d think she was referring to Julia, my adoptive mom. But because this is a fraud, I can pretend she must be referring to my faux aunt I just lost if need be.
“Yes.”
She writes a word and holds the pad for me to read. Bluebird. “Do you understand this?”
She spelled it wrong. It should be Bleubird, but how could she possibly know? “Yes.”
“It’s what your mother called you?” She couldn’t possibly know that—except she does.
“Yes.” I can see how easy it is to feed into this. I must be careful to give away nothing.
“This is your mother’s way of validating her presence and my ability to communicate with her. She says you’re cynical.”
I’ll give her that one. “That’s very true.”
She smiles, maybe as though she’s accepting the challenge, and returns to scribbling in her notebook. She holds the pad up when she’s finished. Chocolate chip cookies. “Do you understand this?”
“Yes.” My voice breaks and my eyes flood with tears. I feel the supportive touch of Sin’s hand on my shoulder.
I’m being reeled in because it’s nearly impossible for a random stranger to guess such specific things. I don’t want to believe in her, but I can’t stop myself. “My mom’s okay?”
“I couldn’t communicate with her if she weren’t.” Mary reaches across the folding table and takes my hands. “Listen carefully, because this is very important. This thing you’re planning to do isn’t going to make you happy. If you go through with it, it’ll eat at you and rob you of the joy you’re supposed to have with your husband and children.”
The fact that she just called me out on my plan to kill Thane briefly escapes me because I only hear two words. “Husband? Children?” I whisper.
“Nothing you do will change what happened.” She pats my hand and my body shudders from the chill. “Your mother doesn’t want you to put your future happiness in jeopardy by chasing an empty dream.”
A single tear rolls down my cheek as I search through my purse for a tip. I’m glad my head is down. I don’t want Sin to see me cry. “Thank you, Mary.”
We walk without talking for a while before Sin finally breaks the silence. “Could you stand that drink now instead of later?”
That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day. “Quite honestly, I think I could stand a few.”
Chapter Twenty
Sinclair Breckenridge
I hold up my empty glass so the bartender may see our need for refills. Two isn’t going to cut it. Bleu nods in agreement and a couple of more Black Labels are sitting in front of us within minutes.
Neither of us has mentioned what happened with the medium, but I know we’re both spooked.
I give up on Bleu being the first to
broach the subject. “That wasn’t real, right? It had to be a hoax.”
“The logical side of my brain is trying to convince me it was a ruse but then I have this other side arguing against that. There’s no explanation for how she knew my mother called me Bleubird unless she was for real. And the chocolate chip cookies … how could she know that was something special I did with my mother?”
“I have no idea.”
Believing that she’s the real deal means accepting I’ll be married soon. Oddly, hearing that I’ll be happy with a wife and children doesn’t bring me joy—because that life doesn’t include Bleu. My time with her will be over much quicker than I’d like and I’m not excited by that prospect. “I don’t want to think about the things that woman said. All I want to do is drink a lot of whisky and then take you home to our bed.”
Bleu holds up her glass for a toast. “Agreed.” We toss our whiskies back.
I lift my empty glass for the bartender to see again. “We’ll take the bottle.”
A half-full bottle is placed in front of us. I fill our glasses to the rim. “Toast?”
“Yes.”
Bleu and I look at one another and I suspect we’re feeling the same. “Here’s to the present.”
Bleu smiles but it doesn’t touch her eyes. She looks … sad. “To the here and now.”
* * *
Bleu kisses me like crazy as I work to unlock the door. I blindly succeed and we fall through the entrance together. She’s walking backward, pulling me toward the couch. “I want you right now.”
She leans back against the arm of the couch, pulling me to stand between her parted thighs. Her hand is on the back of my neck and she pulls me down so my mouth meets hers. She’s rougher than usual. I suppose I have the liquor to thank for that.
Her knees are bent and her legs are wrapped around my waist. I move my palms up her thighs until they’re cupping her bottom. “I love your arse. It’s perfect.”
She squeezes her legs around me so my groin is pressed hard against hers. “Yours is perfection. I love digging my heels in when you’re between my legs so you’ll fuck me harder.”
There’s nothing I love more than Bleu urging me on.
I move my hands from her arse to the front of her shorts. I unfasten the button and tug them, and her knickers, down her legs. They drop to the floor and I kick them away as she reaches for her top, pulling it over her head.
I pull her forward so her lower back is against the couch arm, her bottom hanging over the edge. I drop to my knee and plant her feet on my shoulders. Her legs are sprawled wide. “You have a way of bringing men to their knees.”
Her body shudders and a moan leaves her mouth when my tongue slowly drags upward through her center. “Ohh.”
I sweep my tongue up and down before changing the motion to a circular movement over her clit. I push two of my fingers in with my hand turned palm side up, and use them to stroke her on the inside.
Turning Bleu on turns me on. This sometimes means I’m not always aware of how fast I’m moving. In this case, it’s a good thing. “That feels … SO good, like a fluttering butterfly in just the right spot. Don’t stop.”
I wouldn’t dare stop. I love licking Bleu until she comes. “I am so close.” There’s only one thing I love more than making my Bonny Bleu come—that’s knowing I’m the only one to ever have done it.
I alternate the suction and release of her clit until she arches her back and cries out. “Oh God! Right there. Just like that.” I feel her inner body spasm around my fingers and she calls out my name. “Ohhh, Sin!” Her legs tense, her toes digging into my shoulders.
Then all goes lax and I know my lass is in post-orgasm bliss. “Good?”
She’s wiggled down so she’s inverted with her head on the couch cushion. Her eyes are closed and they remain that way. “Mmm-hmm,” she moans.
She isn’t talking. That means it was very good for her. Perfect.
I pull my shirt over my head and toss it into the pile of clothes. I unfasten my trousers and push them away before wrapping my hands around her hips to hold her in place. “My turn now.”
I enter her fast and hard. She always has the same reaction. Gasp. Tense. Relax. I’m quite fond of all three.
I grasp the soles of her feet and push her legs back and apart. I move in and out of her slowly because the position is so intense. I love the way it feels but I’m a little afraid of hurting her; it feels much deeper than ever before. “Does this feel good for you?”
She smiles up at me, biting her bottom lip. “Mmm-hmm. I like it.”
That means I can keep going. “I’m glad because this way feels so good, I didn’t want to stop.”
I thrust faster and a minute later I feel the onset of an orgasm. I slow my speed in hopes of prolonging the pleasure but it’s too late. Being this deep inside Bleu feels too damn good to not come quickly.
I don’t know why I try. I’m never able to hold back with her.
I release her feet and grab her hips to hold her in place. “Ohh, I’m coming.”
She wraps her legs around my waist and digs her heels into my arse, slamming our pelvises together. There is no beginning and no end. We are one. And then I erupt inside her.
When my orgasm is over, I notice Bleu grinning. “What are you smiling about?”
“You have a great come face.” She laughs.
“I happen to like yours as well. I enjoy seeing it often.”
“I have no objections to showing it to you on a regular basis.”
I slap my hand over her arse cheek and squeeze. “Move up, Bonny. I want to lie with you.”
Bleu slides up the couch and I stretch next to her. We’re facing one another. She hitches her leg over mine and snuggles close. She traces the tip of her finger from my hairline down my forehead, the bridge of my nose, stopping at my lips. She moves her finger back and forth over my bottom one. “I love this mouth.”
“This mouth has a confession.”
A wrinkle appears across her brow. “Okay.”
I think she’s worried about what she’s going to hear from me. She should be. I’ve had a lot of whisky and my tongue is loose.
“I’m a selfish bastard. I’m certain you’ve never met a bigger one. That means I don’t want to share you with anyone. The thought of another having you this way … it sends me into hysteria. I think I might kill any man who dared touch you.”
She says nothing but leans forward to kiss my mouth. Her hand strokes my leg, not at the top close to my cock. It’s near my amputation.
My divulgence isn’t over. “I may never let you go, Bonny Bleu.”
“I doubt your Fellowship-approved wife will care for that.” Oh. She’s going to bring that up, huh?
“She’ll like it about as much as your husband will.” I know it’s irrational to be angry about a future that has nothing to do with the present—and is likely a hoax—but the thought of Bleu one day having another man as her husband pisses me off. It feels like a betrayal she’s yet to commit, but I know it’s coming.
“Sin.” She props her head in her hand. “You sound like you’re mad at me.”
Do I dare admit it?
Aye, I do. “Hell yeah, I’m angry. You’re going to be with someone else.”
She hits my uninjured shoulder with her fist. “Why are you getting pissed off at me? You’re going to be with someone else too. And soon—with babies. You’ll have everything I desperately want but will probably never have. Do you know how that makes me feel?”
She thinks this doesn’t bother me as well? “No worries. You and your husband can thaw out your wee one whenever you decide you’re ready to welcome him or her into the world.”
“Frozen eggs are more susceptible to damage during the freezing process. I didn’t have a highly successful retrieval. That means my chances for having babies aren’t good.”
I wouldn’t have done the reading had I known it was going to cause a problem between us. “Psychics aren’t
real. None of that stuff she said is true.”
“I didn’t need a psychic to tell me you’re going to be a stupid crime boss lording over a bunch of dumb-asses. Or that you’re going to allow them to dictate who you can and can’t be with.” She sits up and spins around so her back is turned. She leans forward with her head in her hands. “I’m thinking about you being with somebody else and now I’m pissed off.”
“Is it nuts to say it feels like a betrayal?” I ask.
“It totally does. I have an aching throb deep in my chest.”
She doesn’t have to describe it. I know the exact feeling.
I put my arm around Bleu’s waist and pull her to lie next to me again. “We didn’t need a fake or real psychic to tell us we won’t last forever. That’s a given, but we have this time together. Let’s make the most of it.”
I drape my arm over her body and pull her close. My cheek is pressed against her back and I feel her body shudder. She’s crying. I rub my hand over the back of her hair. “Shh … please, don’t.”
Crying women have never fazed me but Bleu crying … that’s something different. I don’t take it lightly. This isn’t a performance. She isn’t shedding tears with an ulterior motive in mind. This is her coming to terms with the fact that we’ll be over soon.
I don’t know when it happened but I’ve fallen completely and madly in love with this woman. I could be out of my mind but I think she may love me too. It’s an unexpected surprise considering what an unlovable bastard I am.
We’re not over. I refuse to accept any future that doesn’t include Bleu. I will not give up the best thing that’s ever happened to me, not for anything or anyone. Now I must figure out a way to work this out with The Fellowship.
* * *
The woman sitting across the table gave birth to me, yet she’s practically a stranger. We resided in the same house most of my life but I have very few memories of being parented by Isobel Breckenridge. I don’t know her, yet she’s the only person I want to talk to right now.
“I asked you to join me for breakfast because I need advice, and I feel you’re the only one I can trust with this.”