Winking at me, he spoke in a hushed tone. “And miss that sexy, small pout making an appearance? Never.”
“There’s nothing wrong with soothing a fellow Rubian.” I didn’t know why I continued to banter with him. He was pressing my buttons, and for some reason, I liked it.
“Oh, she’s a romantic.”
I couldn’t help it; I felt the blush creep up my cheeks. Not openly, but in the privacy of my own quarters, I’d fantasized about love for most of my life. But that’s what it was, a fantasy.
“Can I replenish that for you?” Donovan looked at me with soft eyes, pretending not to have noticed me drift off—I told myself it was the booze in his tumbler.
“I can,” I stated and turned around, eyed the bartender, and waved my empty flute in the air.
“Hope your mom doesn’t see that.” His voice rumbled next to me, making a silent path from my ear to parts I didn’t want to mention in conjunction with Donovan. “If there’s any night you’re expected to act like a lady, it’s tonight,” he continued.
The bartender handed me my freshened beverage, and I said, “Thank you” before turning and looking at the man next to me. “You know, you always got on my nerves, even in grade school, when I was nothing but a kid who looked up to you.”
“A kid? Younger than me? By three grades?” he teased.
Donovan was exactly three years older than me. I knew because we shared a birthday in February. “Maybe that’s part of your powers, dominating those younger than you?” I couldn’t help the small chuckle escaping me.
“And now, tell me—do I still get under your skin at the old age of twenty-four?” Donovan chose to ignore the reference to his skill set—igniting discomfort in the form of physical pain—probably because it was the opposite of mine.
“I didn’t say under my skin, Don. We all know what you can do when you get inside someone.”
“Do we now?”
He raised an eyebrow, and I let out a small chuff. Leave it to Donovan to turn my mentioning his evil magic into a sexual joke. We’d known each other practically all our lives, but when I found my ability to take pain away and Donovan discovered he could dole it out, we became unlikely friends.
As for my shortening his name, I wasn’t sure why. I preferred to keep a formal boundary between us.
His palm ran over my exposed forearm. The dress revealed about as much skin as Mama would tolerate. Never one for sleeveless or strapless, she expected a short sleeve at a minimum. This year I went with one three-quarter sleeve and one bared arm in an off the shoulder sheath she’d turned her nose up at. Although she couldn’t say much since I came running every time she needed my magic, including the two times I’d been sworn to secrecy—when my father found himself in bed with another woman. I’d erased his lover’s ache while my mom doled out a tongue lashing to my father.
“I like the feel of your skin,” Donovan whispered out of nowhere.
“I didn’t say you could touch me” was my response despite the goose bumps breaking out along my flesh. He might have annoyed me for most of my life, but I wasn’t immune to his handsome face and brutish body. Not to mention his gruff voice sending ripples through my core.
“You’re right. My apologies. Maybe I wanted you to see my hands can be as gentle as they want.” He finally pulled his fingers away, and I regretted my rapid response.
When he wasn’t looking directly at me, I caught him throwing a quick glance at the other corner of the room…the one oppositeBruno. Looking closer, I saw he’d been clocking his brother, Magnum, tossing back a drink and chatting with several people.
“Where’s Cinder?” I couldn’t help but ask about Magnum’s fiancée, who was always hanging on his arm. Cinder was sweet, and under other circumstances we might have been friends. But she was engaged to the son of Mama’s closest friend, Ceci, and I tried to keep my family and friends separate. It made for less involvement, on my mother’s part, in my life. For the record, I enjoyed my solitude.
“I don’t know. I was wondering the same.” His voice was deep and grumbly, and tickled over my nerves in a good…no, pleasant, extremely soothing way.
“Maybe she’s off somewhere with her mom, looking at some new jewels in my mother’s wardrobe.” It was a likely scenario, especially knowing all of them the way I did.
“Hmmm, maybe.” He gave me a glance, the side of his mouth curving up.
Then he pushed off the bar an inch or two, and I already missed him even though he didn’t leave yet. I bit my tongue, punishing myself for thinking it. Love, relationships—none of that feeling stuff was for me.
Raising his glass, Donovan said, “Merry Christmas, Tulya.”
“Why don’t you call me Tuvy?” It came blurting out of my mouth and I wasn’t sure why, other than I was trying to delay his departure. Tilting my head, I allowed my red waves to mask the blush creeping up my cheeks.
He leaned to the side, narrowing the already slim gap between us, and the shivers appeared again. I’d been corralling my magic long enough to know that heartache brought heat to my spine, and happiness carried the opposite sensation.
His profile a breath away from mine, he spoke. “Because Tuvy is for friends and girl talk. To me, you are a full-fledged woman and you deserve to be addressed as such—Tulya.”
My toes tingled and I shivered as if ice had been dripped down my back, even though the fire was roaring in the corner and the room was filled with warm bodies. I’d never been told I was a woman. Mostly I’d been used for my capabilities, my own feelings often disregarded.
