Saving Savannah - A Reverse Harem Romance, page 14
Roman pushed my legs high, way up over his shoulders as he pumped me full of his come. It felt warm and wonderful down there. Taboo and forbidden, but also hotter than anything I’d ever experienced.
In the end we curled to the center of the broken bed, facing each other. Kissing so softly and gently in our warm little nest, our lips were just barely touching.
“So?” he asked eventually, raising an eyebrow. “Was it—”
I shushed my lover with a single finger, pressed tightly against his lips. My eyes were half-lidded. My mind, still slowly finding its way back down from cloud nine.
“That was perfect.”
Thirty-Nine
SAVANNAH
The steering wheel turned aimlessly, first left and then right. It was like a ghost was driving. Without my hands, it spun on its own.
La, la, la, la, la…
Another scream reached my ears, this time from the back seat. I barely heard it. Only the music registered.
La, la, la, la, la…
I struggled hard, through a scream of my own. The wheel was wet now — all slick with blood. And the song! That slow, haunting song. Everything outside was black, now. Almost invisible. Everything but the one slender object, rapidly approaching. Somewhere off to my left…
Valentine is done…
I reached across, abandoning everything but the belt. Focusing on the only thing that mattered: hearing that ‘click’ as I locked it tight.
Here but now they’re gone…
The object was thicker. Taller. Closer. Wincing hard, I grabbed the wheel…
Romeo and Juliet…
… and jerked it down and to the left. HARD.
Are together in eterni—
CRASH!
This time I exploded from my dream full speed. I flew up from the blankets. My body jolted across the bed and slammed hard into the opposite wall of the tiny bedroom, only to sink down cowering in the fetal position…
“Savannah!”
Two arms reached for me frantically. I batted them away through a wall of terror.
“Savannah, what’s wrong?”
The name was meaningless. The person attached to the arms, faceless and foreboding.
“It’s okay,” the voice said again and again. “Savannah, it’s alright. You’re only dreaming. You’re only—”
I burst into tears as the arms surrounded me, enveloping me in warmth… and comfort. Gradually my surroundings came into focus. The scattered blankets, the broken bed. Roman, cradling me against his body. Rocking me gently back and forth, while stroking my hair.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay now. It was only a nightmare…”
Only a nightmare.
I don’t know how long I sat there, trying to recover. Waiting until my body was finished shaking, and I didn’t feel so cold anymore.
Then the guilt swept in, and with it the embarrassment.
“I need to go.”
As sweet and silent as Roman was, I still felt beyond foolish. His arms no longer felt good wrapped around me. My flight instinct was kicking in hard.
“Savannah…”
“I have things to do,” I lied. I got up and began scrambling for my clothes.
“But—”
“Errands to run,” I went on. “Tons of them.”
“Then I’ll take you back.”
I shook my head vehemently. “No. Do your thing around here. I’ll call an Uber. I—”
“At least let me take you to breakfast?”
Roman’s eyes were pleading, if not a bit hurt. It was the last thing I wanted. But I also needed to get away.
“Listen…” I said, trying my best to slow my beating heart. “It’s not you. Trust me. It’s… it’s…”
The rest of whatever I was about to say escaped me. Probably because there were no words.
“What is it?” Roman asked gently. His eyes were sorrowful, but not pleading. “Since the beginning, there’s been something secret about you. Something you’re keeping in, all to yourself. And maybe that’s hurting you.”
He reached out for me, and I didn’t flinch. I let him slowly tilt my chin upward, to meet his gaze.
“Savannah, tell me.”
A lump formed in my throat. I wanted to speak. All of a sudden, so very badly, I wanted to tell him everything.
“Another time,” I croaked.
I took a step back, and he remained where he was. It occurred to me suddenly he wasn’t wearing any clothes. Our time together had been so incredibly intimate. I felt closer to him now than I could’ve ever imagined.
“Last night was magical,” I told him, allowing myself the smallest hint of a smile.
“Sure fucking was.”
I wished I could forget the dream. That I could just fall back into his arms again, where everything was warm and safe and secure.
When I looked up again, Roman already had his phone. He tapped the screen a bunch of times while I stepped into my clothes, before looking up at me again.
“You’re all set,” he said with a yawn. “Driver’s coming in four minutes.”
Damn.
He looked adorable with his hair bedraggled, his face all covered in dark stubble. I wanted to wrap my arms around him again. Slide my hands down through the small of his back, and settle my palms over his firm, beautiful ass.
Three minutes, now.
“I’ll call you,” I promised, slipping into my boots.
“And we’ll talk?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “Sure.”
“About this?” asked Roman.
My hand moved up subconsciously, to rub at the bridge of my nose. I let out a sigh.
“Maybe.”
Hey, it was a start. A baby step.
“Okay then. I’ll walk you out.”
He slipped into jeans and a T-shirt in all the time it took to blink. By the time I was ready to go, he already had a hand on the door knob.
“Promise me something,” he said before opening it.
I nodded gently. “What’s that?”
“You’ll get past this,” he said, touching my hand. “Even if you have to share it.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “Fair enough.” Looking him over one last time, I raised an eyebrow. “But you’ve gotta promise me something also. Two things, actually.”
“Anything.”
“First, that you’ll pursue this,” I said, pointing at all the amazing artwork posted around us. “This is a gift, Roman. Very few people have such a thing. You can always fall back on business management,” I pointed out. “But you desperately need to take a shot at this.”
My lover’s whole face changed. His expression went from one of concern over my well-being to a red-faced exhibition of deep, unyielding pride.
“Okay,” he said sheepishly. “And the other?”
I nodded over his shoulder, my mouth twisting into a sarcastic grin.
“You’ll retire that bed,” I chuckled. “Even if you have to burn it.”
Forty
SAVANNAH
The crowds were sparse, but it was still early. Plenty of time for the avenues to fill up. For the quaint little bed and breakfasts to yawn wide their antique doors, and pour throngs of eager tourists into Salem’s historic streets.
And here I was, stomping along, angry for no reason. Pissed off at myself for nothing more than a recurring nightmare, over which I obviously had no control.
It was the first day I wasn’t looking forward to work, and that pissed me off too. I’d finally built something good again. I’d taken my time with it. I’d taken great pride in everything I’d done. Why should I allow the ghosts of my past to haunt anything I did now? Didn’t that defeat the very purpose of moving on?
Tourists and vendors alike stepped aside as I threaded my way down Essex street. Like it or not, I was in that kind of mood. Giving off ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes, all along the way through—
Suddenly I did a double take. My legs kept walking another three or four steps, beyond where my brain screamed for them to stop.
There was a man standing alone, in the dead center of the street. A man with dark hair. Bushy eyebrows.
A man I somehow recognized.
Oh shit.
He was handing out cards, much the way Zane had done. Practically forcing them on passers-by, whether they wanted them or not.
“Hey!”
I jumped a little as he called out to me. He’d caught me staring.
“Come see Madam Zingara!” the man said cheerfully. He thrust a colorful, oversized card my way. “Seer. Soothsayer. Voice of the world beyond!”
I flipped the card over, hoping for a glimpse of the mysterious madam. But there was nothing but flourish. Like someone had been given a hundred images associated with the ‘paranormal’, and had gone shit-wild in Photoshop.
“Soothsayer, huh?”
“That’s right,” the man who’d broken my window said. “Also—”
“And where exactly is Madam Zingara located?”
I looked around, fairly confident I’d scoured the avenue before. But the man tapped a small, overly-fancy font at the back of the card. “The address is right here. A little more than a mile away. Walking distance for—”
“It’s residential?” I asked, squinting to make out the street name. Of course it was. Now it all made sense.
“Well, yes,” the man confirmed. “Madam Zingara enjoys a more direct connection with the other side, when made from the comfort of—”
“What time?”
The man’s face broke into the triumphant grin of having scored another customer. “Doors open at six.”
“I’ll be there,” I smiled.
I walked the rest of the way to my shop with the same shit-eating grin. Already I was forgetting the dream. Remembering I had a new life, a new business. Three astoundingly hot love interests vying for my attention… or rather, not exactly vying, but willing to share.
And now I even had the asshole who was threatening my shop. I could take care of things tonight, before they escalated. Before the whole ‘locals only’ thing got out of hand, and Madam Zingara nailed a bloody chicken to my door, or something equally ridiculous.
I donned my bullshit gypsy gear, and opened immediately. It was a good day. The best day. And I was ready to make the most of it. But first…
Pulling out my phone, I shot Roman a quick text-message. During our walk yesterday, I’d had him solve the whole “mystery hunk” debacle in my contact list, by entering names to go with the numbers.
Sorry about this morning.
Next time breakfast’s on me.
He wrote back before I’d even put the phone down:
Roman: Don’t fly out of here so fast next
time, and you can *be* breakfast. :)
A prickly heat washed over me, just remembering last night. Recalling how it felt to grind so hard against Roman’s perfect face, I’d nearly blacked out.
Not to mention other places, where I was still pleasantly sore.
Well, thanks for taking care of me.
In more ways than one.
His reply was as sweet as he was:
Roman: I’m just glad you’re okay.
My door opened. The bells rang. I greeted my first customers of the day with a warm smile, and the last ones with an equal if not exhausted amount of enthusiasm. In between, I pulled off a record number of readings. A Saturday even crazier than I came to expect, even with a rapidly-approaching Halloween.
It was just after seven when the door swung open and Zane strolled in. He brought an instant excitement. Enthusiasm. And of course, his trademark, rogue-like grin.
Perfect.
“I uh, thought we might grab something quick to eat,” he began, “before—”
“Great,” I interrupted him, gathering my stuff. I took his hand as I swept past him, pulling him right back out the door with me with a surprised look.
“Let’s go.”
Forty-One
SAVANNAH
Zane recognized the man who answered the door — the same one from the security photos — right away. He stiffened immediately, his face contorting into a sneer of menace as I elbowed him silent.
“I’m sorry, we’re almost full for the night,” the man said, glancing over his shoulder. “But if you’re willing to wait…”
“Oh we are,” I smiled pleasantly.
“Okay then,” the man grinned back. “I’ll bring out a few more chairs.”
He led us inside, then disappeared quickly down a hall. The place was like the dozen or so ‘psychic’ homes I’d been to with my grandmother; part residence, part business. The nearest bedroom had been sacrificed for private readings, while any other clients and friends were kept rather awkwardly in the living room, to wait it out.
We walked past at least eight other people, jammed around a coffee table, sipping tea. They looked up at us strangely as we kept moving. I pulled Zane down the hallway, straight through the closed door with the ‘do not disturb’ sign pegged to it… and into a smallish room.
The woman sat at a table much like mine, across from a pair of clients. She still wore her tear-drop beaded headband, and her over-the-top chandelier earrings. Only now her gypsy’s robe was blue and black, instead of purple and gold.
“What the—”
Her expression registered surprise at first, and anger at being interrupted. But then it changed again, one last time, as recognition slowly dawned across her painted face.
“How dare you!” she growled.
I addressed the nice young couple seated across from her first. “Your reading’s over,” I said loudly. “For now, anyway.”
The couple looked startled. Hesitant and confused. Zane folded his arms across his chest and unconfused them.
“She said GET OUT.”
They scrambled past him, glancing awkwardly back at the gypsy-dressed woman. The very second they were back in the hallway, Zane kicked the door closed behind them.
“This is outrageous,” the woman snarled, rising from her chair. “You think you can just break in here like this? Cost me money on—”
“Cost you money?” I laughed in her face. “Cost YOU money?”
I pulled something heavy from my bag and slammed it down hard, right in the center of her table. So hard, she actually sat back down.
“Here’s your brick,” I snarled. “The one your friend out there threw through my window.”
The woman refused to look down at the object. Instead, her dark eyes remained focused on me.
“You owe me four hundred dollars,” I told her coldly. “It was a bit more actually, but I’m in a good mood so I’m rounding it down.”
“I’m calling the police,” the woman said simply. “I’m telling them you broke in here, and—”
Her words died as I slapped something else down on the table: the security photos. This time she did look down. Her penciled-in eyebrows went up a full inch.
“Call them,” I told her. “We’ll be happy to give them the full footage of your son smashing my window.”
The woman swallowed, bitterly. When she looked up at me again, her eyes had changed.
“He is your son, isn’t he? Or nephew. Or friend. Or whatever the—”
Just then the door rattled from the outside. The full weight of Zane prevented it from opening, even an inch.
“Mom?”
Three sharp knocks became a rapid pounding. The voice out in the hallway grew more frantic.
“MOM! OPEN THE DOOR!”
“RELAX SIMON!” the woman said loudly, and the pounding stopped. “It’s okay. Just… give me a moment.”
If there was disdain in her eyes the first time I’d encountered her, it had blossomed into full-blown hatred now. Those eyes stayed fixated on me, even as she rose and made her way over to a small desk. She produced a key from an inside pocket, and opened the lowest drawer. Slowly, carefully, she counted out a stack of bills, then slid them my way.
“Four hundred dollars,” she sneered. “Are you happy? You win.”
“There’s nothing to be happy about,” I told her. “And there was never a prize to be won. If anything, this makes us even.”
“Whatever,” the woman spat. “Just… get out.”
“No,” I said coldly. “Not just yet.”
The woman stared daggers back at me, her earrings flashing gold in the dim light. But she blinked in surprise as I slid the money back in her direction.
“Take it,” I said.
Her eyebrows crossed. “What?”
“Keep the money,” I shrugged. “I never wanted it to begin with.”
“Then why did you—”
“Because now I win,” I stared back at her. “Actually, we both do. You learned a valuable lesson. And I get good karma.”
The woman tilted her head at me. “And that lesson would be?”
“Not every newcomer is a greedy asshole out to steal your business,” I told her. “Let go of the ‘locals rule’ bullshit, and be more accepting.”
I nodded to Zane, and he opened the door. Together we strode out, pushing straight past her bewildered son. We walked right through the living room, where everyone was still waiting. They all stopped talking at once, glancing up at us expectantly.
“Oh she’s good,” I smiled, jerking a thumb back down the hallway. “Real good.”
Silence. Dead silence.
“The best,” Zane chimed in, with a wink.
I grabbed the front door and pulled it open, letting the crisp fall air fill my lungs. It tasted so much better now. Almost sweet.
