Beyond Your Touch Read Free

me.”
    An amused smile twitched at the corner of his mouth and a glisten sparkled in his eyes. “You sure you can handle it?”
    A wildfire ignited inside me and I giggled as he dramatically swept one hand around my waist, dipping me backward like a Disney prince sweeping his princess into a kiss. His lips smothered my laughter. I hooked my hands around his neck and returned his kiss, openmouthed, our lips and tongues teasing and tantalizing each other’s. His lips withdrew for a heartbeat, then returned even more insistent, his free hand claiming my chin, holding me prisoner, making me surrender to a round of even more sultry kisses. A blast of pleasure shuddered through me and I groaned. His lips left mine, nibbling their way to my ear.
    â€œBetter?” he whispered.
    â€œAnd then some.” I could barely breathe.
    â€œI’m thinking one more,” he said.
    Two or maybe three kisses after that, I drifted back to the cottage, squashed on my helmet, and took off on the ATV. As I headed up the driveway, I was lost in the buzz still zinging through my body and the vibrating hum of the engine. But when I reached where the drive overlooked the sprawling main house and the ocean beyond, my searing guilt and shame returned with a vengeance, and those unrelenting memories hit me full force.
    Whispers wake me. I crack my eyes open. I’m in Mama’s bed, in her and Daddy’s room. Everything is blue and hazy, moonlit. A broad-shouldered man with a bare chest and a shaved head is holding Mama, kissing her. Another memory follows: I stand in the hallway outside the room. Grandmother kneels in front of me, her gentle hands cupping my face, so much love in her gray-blue eyes. She asks me something and it makes my stomach hurt. I raise my chin and lie. “No, I haven’t seen Mama with a man.” A day or maybe a week later: Moonhill’s parlor is filled with yellow roses, the air heavy with their scent. Mama, Daddy, everyone’s crying. Grandma. Sudden death. A curse? A strange illness? Roses everywhere. I push a thorn against my thumb, tears flooding down my face as a voice inside me chants: “Liar. Liar.”
    I gave the ATV as much gas as I dared and flew full-tilt down the hill toward the house, focusing on the bite of the wind against my face, struggling to shove those painful memories aside. But try as I might, I couldn’t forget what they’d already made perfectly clear: If I’d told Grandmother the truth, then she would have known for sure that Malphic was visiting Mother. She would have told everyone, protected herself, and done something to free Mother from his grip before he kidnapped her. Still, remembering wasn’t what was important and changing the past was impossible. The only thing I could do now was help with the plans to free my mother and bring her home again—and, by doing so, start to set right what my lie had put into motion.
    I parked the ATV in the garage, then strode to the front door and into the mansion’s museum-like foyer. My sneakers squeaked against the marble floor as I marched to the west wing hallway. It was silent and dark, except for the flicker of light coming from the mirror-backed display cases, packed with whirring apparatuses.
    When I reached the door to Kate’s study, I took a deep breath, knocked once, and let myself in.
    Kate sat behind her desk. Most people with a bandaged neck and arm would look haggard. But not my aunt Kate. Even her lingering bruises only served to make her look more like a dominatrix than usual, not like a weakened woman recovering from a battle with genies.
    Next to her desk, my cousin Selena lounged in a chair with her legs stretched out in front of her. Her blond hair swished across her back as she pivoted to smile at me.
    â€œHey, Cousin,” she said, “haven’t seen you all morning. Did you get my text?”
    â€œAh—no. I was kind of busy.” I settled into the