A Necklace of Water Read Free

cupboard when I felt Richard come up behind me. For one second I felt afraid—I couldn’t forget that he’d tried to hurt me and Thais. But I also believed, as Nan did, that he would never do it now.
    “Go away,” I said, my back to him.
    “Come to help you carry,” he said in that sardonic voice that always felt like a challenge. “‘Cause I’m that kind of guy.”
    I gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Don’t even get me started on what kind of guy you are.” I saw his jaw tighten as he tried to keep his temper from flaring. Turning back to Nan’s cupboard, I examined small brown glass bottles filled with essences and extracts, dried this and powdered that. I set the asabarraca on the worktable, then found the ceramic jar of French clay. Next I went through files of pressed, dried leaves and flowers, organized not alphabetically but according to what larger family they were from and, within that, to the subcategories of what effects they would cause.
    I knew this stuff pretty well and usually could put my hand on what I needed pretty quickly. But having Richard breathing down my neck made me tense, and I forgot what I was looking for.
    “Go away,” I said again, irritably.
    “Look, we have to get this straight between us,” he said in a low voice.
    “Get what straight? The fact that you tried to kill me and my sister?” Wide-eyed, I cocked my head, looking confused. “Is that what you’re talking about? The attempted murder stuff?”
    “Yeah, yeah,” he said tensely. “My bad. Can we move on from that?”
    I gaped at him. “Move
on
? Move on from attem—” I was literally speechless.
    He waved his hand impatiently. “I explained all that. That was before I even
knew
you. Just… get over it. We need to figure this out, what we have between us.”
    “We don’t have
anything
between us!” I hissed, trying to keep my voice down.
    “That’s bull, and you know it!” he said, just as angrily. He moved closer to me, and I felt his indescribable force, as if we were literally magnets, positive and negative, irresistibly drawn together whether we wanted to be or not.
    I kept my arms at my sides, as stiff as poles. I hated this! Hated what he did to me. “We have
nothing
,” I said again, and turned back to the plant file.
Red dock, red dock
… My fingers flipped through plastic sleeves, all neatly labeled and dated.
    In the next moment he curved his arms around me, pressing his body against my back from shoulder to hip. His arms crossed, holding me tightly, his right hand pulling my hips against him, his left hand curling up to hold my right shoulder.
    “Don’t say that,” he murmured into my hair while all my nerve endings started exploding. I felt his breath warm on my neck, and then he bit me gently, right where my neck curved into my shoulder. I shuddered and my brain shorted out for a moment.
    But just for a moment. I brought my arms up hard, breaking his hold, and though he’d trapped me between himself and the cupboard, I wheeled, ready to rip into him.
    I didn’t have a chance. He lowered his head lightning fast and kissed me, pushing me against the open cupboard so that it teetered on its legs. He pressed hard against me, trying to make as much of me touch as much of him as possible.
Not again
.
    His mouth was warm and hard, and I instantly recognized it. My body recognized his; my mouth knew the touch and pressure and taste of his. I could smell the slight smokiness of his clothes and hair and the fresh detergent scent of his shirt. It felt like,
At last
. I started to weaken, like honey warmed by the sun, becoming softer, more fluid.
    But because I still somehow had two synapses left to rub together, I broke from his hold again, pushing his chest hard, shoving him. He was breathing fast, chest rising and falling, and his dark, dark eyes looked lit by flames.
    “Get off me!” I said too loudly, and lowered my voice. “Get away from me,” I whispered furiously. “There’s nothing