“Oh my god, are you having a house party without us? You little witches!” Arron laughed as Layla kicked off her heels by the door. Vaulting to the ratty tweed couch, Arron cuddled Layla under his arm as they sent up a puff of foam from the destroyed stuffing.
Geek-chic Celia Carron laughed from her ratty corduroy bean-bag chair with a beer bottle at her lips, wasted. Big buff Charlie Avondale chuckled from the futon, stoned to the four winds and wearing only Adidas shorts to match his Adonis bod and cupid-blond curls. Friends since undergrad, the housemates had lived together for almost five years now. Layla felt the tension of her night ease at last, their lively camaraderie something she could always count on.
“Don’t tell Luke we’re still up!” Celia hissed in a mock-whisper, pushing her black horn-rimmed glasses up her button nose with a giggle. Dressed in an artsy smock splotched with paint, her black hair pinned up with two paintbrushes, Celia was the poster girl for the Seattle art scene. “He’ll yell at us again. For like, the twentieth time tonight! He already drove the rest of the party off. Jamie was over with Boyd, Simon and Charlie, Rosa and Hal. But Luke—”
“I can hear you!” A pissed-off tenor voice came from the kitchen suddenly. Rounding the arched ingress, Luke Murphy, their fifth housemate, leaned in the doorframe wearing only blue scrubs-pants. Gorgeous as hell but mean as beans, Luke was a cyclist and a Crossfitter, hard muscle standing out in his defined chest and ridiculously cut abdomen. Raking a hand through his thick black Irish waves, he gave them all a scowl from his hot emerald eyes. “I have a shift at the hospital at five a.m. Which is only like three hours away now. Don’t you assholes give a damn?”
“Oooh, big medical student has a shift on Saturdays!” Celia sassed, blowing across the top of her beer bottle and making it hoot at him.
“Fucking hopeless.” Luke growled, his green eyes flashing ire. Fixing those sharp orbs on Layla, he gave her a critical once-over from his scathing bad mood. “Your rent’s late, Layla – that’s the fourth month in a row now, and it’s already the tenth. Get it to me tomorrow or I’m shoving your shit out the window.”
“Jesus Luke, let me catch my breath!” Layla was in no mood for his attitude tonight. Though the other housemates were good friends, Luke grated on Layla’s nerves like sandpaper in a wound. He’d been a friend, then they’d dated a few years back and she’d found out how much of a heinous temper he had. Living with him was a nightmare, but Seattle housing was in high demand, and Luke’s grandfather had passed down this stout craftsman home to him five years back. With ample rooms and a working fireplace, it was the best Layla could afford as Luke rented it to everyone for only just enough to pay the property taxes and mortgage. And though it was far below regular Seattle prices and a cherry location, it came with Luke.
Setting her teeth, Layla decided she’d had enough ups and downs for the night. Pushing up off the couch, she moved toward the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Arron called out behind her. “I thought we were going to cruise Netflix for hot men?”
Layla turned and gave a fatigued smile. “I’m tired, actually. Tomorrow?”
Arron gave her a sassy eyebrow lift, his gaze flicking knowingly to Luke. Layla rolled her eyes and Arron smirked, then settled back into the ratty couch. “Suit yourself, hun-bun. Nighty-night. Oh, and don’t forget about our chat. We aredefinitelyshopping for a boat tomorrow.”
“A boat? What? For real?” Celia blinked and sat up in her beanbag, glancing between them.
“I’m on a boataaaaaand, I’m going fastaaaaaaand—” Charlie sang loudly.
“Or maybe we should just get a jet.” Layla grinned and Arron laughed.
“Whatever my bunny wants!” Turning on the TV and snuggling in with Celia now under a throw-blanket, Arron waved Layla up the stairs like a dismissive king. Moving to the stout mahogany staircase, Layla had to pass where Luke lingered at the kitchen. His critical gaze watched her as she wobbled drunkenly from all her wine earlier, gripping the rail as she mounted the first stair.
“Fuck’s sake, Layla.” Luke sighed. “Drink much?”
In three strides he was at the stairs, hustling Layla up with a steady arm around her waist. He didn’t just escort her, he cradled her close to his rock-hard and very naked upper body. There was still tension between them – plenty of it. Layla felt herself heat, flushing. He’d always done that to her, and alcohol in her system made it worse. But Luke and her were like oil and water, even worse than her and Gavin. Luke was a hot body with an even hotter Irish temper – one that only matched Layla’s in bed.
“I’m fine.” Layla had been fine in the car, but now that she was home it was as if her body knew it was time to lose her shit. The tumult of the day and all the wine suddenly caught up to her and she reeled, her wrist giving a furious throb beneath the hamsa-cuff. At the landing, her head was spinning so badly she barely registered Luke open her heavy mahogany door, ushering her inside. The moment they arrived, Layla’s stomach gave a vicious turn and she shook her head.
“Nope; nope. Bathroom!”
“Seriously? Come on.” Gripping her solidly but not without care, Luke helped her to the shared bathroom down the hall – just in time. Within moments, Layla was retching her guts out over the porcelain bowl as Luke held her curls back, kneeling on the black and white tiles with her and not saying a word. At last, she finished retching and spitting, and he offered tissues. She took them, blowing her nose. Luke flushed the toilet and slid a strong, lean arm around her waist. Hefting her gently up, he cradled her close to his chest.
“God, you’re a mess.” He spoke with his regular criticism, though it was gentler than usual. “Where were you all night, Layla? You were supposed to be home at seven from your shift at the bar.”
“Keeping track of me?” Layla sassed, feeling surly. Luke was more kryptonite she didn’t need right now, especially with their history. “I was on a date, at Lark. Happy?”
“Was it Gavin?” Luke’s green eyes held hers – angry and wary. Luke and Gavin had had a serious run-in after Gavin’s harem situation, and it hadn’t been good. Luke had never approved of the pretty boy with the high-rise apartment, and Layla didn’t want to give Luke any more reason to celebrate that her love life was in shambles.
“No, it wasn’t Gavin!” Layla struggled to be freed of Luke’s arms, but he held her fast.
“That’s new.” Luke nodded at the silver cuff on Layla’s wrist. “Did he buy you that? This guy you went on a date with?”
“Yeah, he did. It was a present from the Vermillion, and I like it.”
Layla tried to shove the Moroccan cuff up under Luke’s nose, but her body wasn’t working right. She moved for the door, but her world tilted and so did she. With a growl, Luke hefted her up into his arms. Maneuvering carefully down the hall so her head and feet didn’t bump anything, he pushed open her door and set her upon her art-deco mahogany bed. Turning on the bedside tiffany-lamp, he slid her legs under the covers and tucked her in clothed. As Layla snuggled in under the duvet, feeling suddenly exhausted, Luke gazed at her askance. Reaching out, he set the back of his hand to her forehead. But as Layla waved him off, his glance fell to the Moroccan cuff again.
“What the—?” Reaching out, Luke unclasped the cuff from Layla’s wrist, examining both sides of her arm as he set the cuff upon her bed-stand. “You’re having some kind of allergic reaction to this metal,” he spoke brusquely, narrowing his straight dark brows. “God, it looks like a burn! Let me get you some Benadryl and a salve.”
Layla glanced down and saw the burn-mark had indeed returned. Flaring hot, the skin didn’t look so much burned with the hamsa-design, but etched. As if she had gone to a tattooist and had it inked into her skin, the hamsa-mark stood out from her inner arm, red and furious. Layla felt her wrist throb fiercely, sending waves of heat up her arm and deep into her chest. Luke was about to rise when she reached out, snagging his arm, feeling strangely disoriented and flushed.
“Don’t go.”
