A Fistfull of Charms(64)

Ivy shifted closer, and I felt a light touch under my right eye. “Close your eyes,” she said softly, her breath stirring a curl.
My pulse quickened, but I did, and my other senses kicked in stronger. The gel smelled like clean laundry, and I stifled a shudder when a cold sensation moved under my eye. “You, ah, don’t use this a lot, do you?” I asked, starting when her finger touched my nose.
“Kisten uses it when he works,” she said shortly. She sounded fine—distracted and calm. “I don’t. I think it’s cheating.”
“Oh.” I seemed to be saying that a lot today. The cot shifted when she moved back and away from me. I lowered my head and blinked several times, the vapors leaving a stinging sensation that I couldn’t imagine was making my eyes any less red.“It’s working,” she said with a small, contented smile, answering my question before I asked it. “I thought it would on witches, but I wasn’t sure.” She motioned me to look at the ceiling again so she could finish, and I lifted my chin and closed my eyes.
“Thank you,” I said softly, my thoughts becoming more conflicted and confused. Ivy had said vampires only bothered to get to know people as powerful as themselves. It sounded lonely. And dangerous. And it made perfect sense. She was looking for that mix of danger and trustworthiness. Was that why she put up with my crap? She was looking to find that in me?
A ribbon of angst pulled through me, and I held my breath so Ivy wouldn’t sense it in my exhalation. That I needed danger to feel passion was ridiculous. It wasn’t true. But what if she was right?
Ivy had once said that sharing blood was a way to show deep affection, loyalty, and friendship. I felt that way about her, but what she wanted from me was so far from what I understood that I was afraid. She wanted to share with me something so complex and intangible that the shallow emotional vocabulary of human and witch didn’t have the words or cultural background to define it. She was waiting for me to figure it out. And I lumped it all with sex because I didn’t understand.
A tear slipped from under my eyelid at Ivy’s loneliness, her need for emotional reassurance, and her frustrations that though I could understand what she wanted, I was afraid to find out if I had the capacity to meet her halfway, to trust her. And my breath caught when she wiped the moisture away with a careful finger, unaware that it was for her.
My heart pounded. The underside of my other eye grew cold, and she leaned away. Breath shallow with the thoughts pinging through me, I looked down, blinking profusely. There was the click of Ivy putting the top on the tube, and she gave me a guarded smile. I felt poised on the chance to make tomorrow vastly different from today, and a pulse of emotion struck through me, unexpected and heady. Maybe I should listen to those who were my closest kin in terms of my soul, I thought. Maybe I should trust those willing to trust me back.
“There you go,” Ivy said, not knowing that lightning was falling through my thoughts, realigning them to make space for something new.
I looked at her beside me, her legs crossed at her knees while she lifted the front curtain to toss the tube to the front seat. In a thoughtless motion, she reached out and smeared a pinky under my eye to even it out. The scent of clean laundry wafted up. “My God,” she whispered, her brown eyes on her work. “Your skin is absolutely perfect. It’s really beautiful, Rachel.”
Her hand dropped and my gut tightened. She gathered herself and stood, and I heard myself say, “Don’t go.” 
Ivy jerked to a stop. She turned with an exaggerated slowness, her posture wire-tight as she stared. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice as numb as her face. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
I turned my lips in to moisten them, heart pounding. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”
Her eyes flashed to black. A spike of adrenaline pulled through me to set my heart racing. Ivy fumbled behind her, her face paling when she found herself on unfamiliar territory. “I need to leave,” she said as if trying to convince herself.
Feeling unreal, I reached out and shut the window, drawing the curtain. “I don’t want you to.” I couldn’t believe I was doing this, but I wanted to know. I had lived my life not knowing why I never fit in, and with her simple explanation, I had both found an answer and a cure. I was lost, and Ivy wanted to kick the rocks from my path. I couldn’t read the words, but Ivy would set my fingers to trace the letters to redefine my world. If she was right, my hidden threat had made me a pariah among those I would love, but I could find understanding among my strength-crippled kin. If that meant I needed to find another way to show someone that I cared, maybe I should hide my fears until Ivy could silence them. She trusted me. Maybe it was time I trusted her.
Ivy saw my decision, her face stilling when her instincts hit her hard. “This isn’t right,” she said. “Don’t make me be the one to say no. I can’t do it.”
“So don’t.” A thread of fear slid through me, turning into a sliver of delicious tension to settle deep in my groin and tingle my skin. God, what was I doing?
I felt her will battle her desires, and I watched her eyes, finding no fear in their absolute blackness. I was covered in her scent. Mine was laced about the van like silk scarves, mixing with hers, teasing, luring, promising. Piscary was too far away to interfere. The chance might never come again. “You’re confused,” she said, holding herself carefully, unmoving and still.
My lips tingled when I licked them. “I am confused. I’m not afraid.”
“I am,” she breathed, and her dark lashes drooped to rest atop her pale cheeks. “I know how this ends. I’ve seen it too many times. Rachel, you’ve been hurt and aren’t thinking clearly. When it’s done, you’ll say it was a mistake.” Her eyes opened. “I like how everything is. I’ve spent the better part of a year convincing myself that I’d rather have you as a friend who won’t let me touch her than someone I touched only to frighten away. Please, tell me to leave.”
Adrenaline coursed to settle deep. I stood, out of breath. My thoughts lit upon the dating guide she had given me and the sensations, both exquisitely alluring and darkly terrifying, that she had pulled from me before I learned what not to do. The idea flitted through me that I was manipulating her even now, knowing that she couldn’t best her drives when someone was willing. I could manipulate Ivy to any end, and it sent a surge of anticipatory terror through me.
Standing before her, I shook my head.
“Tell me why….” she whispered, her face creased in a deep pain, as if feeling herself starting to slip into a place she had been both fearing and wanting to go.
“Because you’re my friend,” I said, voice trembling. “Because you need this,” I added.
Relief showed in the depths of her eyes, black in the dim light. “Not enough. I want to show you so badly that it aches,” she said, her voice a gray ribbon. “But I won’t do this if you can’t admit it’s for you as much as me. If you can’t, then it’s not worth having.”
I stared in a near panic for what she was asking me to come to grips with. I didn’t even know what to call the emotions that were making my eyes warm with unshed tears and my body long for something I didn’t understand.Seeing my frightened silence, she turned away. Her long fingers gripped the handle to open the door, and I stiffened, seeing everything dissolve to become an embarrassing incident that would forever widen the chasm between us. Panicked, I said, “Because I want to trust you. Because I do trust you. Because I want this.”
Her hand fell from the door. As my pulse thundered, I saw her fingers tremble, knowing she heard the truth in my voice even as I accepted it. She felt it. She smelled it in the air with her incredible senses and her even more incredible brain that could decipher it. “Why are you doing this to me?” she said to the door. “Why now?”
She turned, her haunted eyes shocking me. Breath shallow, I stepped closer, reaching out but hesitating. “I don’t know what to do,” I said. “I hate feeling stupid. Please do something.”
She didn’t move. A tear had slipped from her, and I reached to wipe it away. Ivy jerked, catching me about the wrist. Her fingers were stark next to the black gold of Kisten’s bracelet, their long whiteness covering my demon mark. I stifled my instinctive jerk, going pliant when she pulled me close, leading my hand to the small of her back.
“This isn’t right,” she whispered, our bodies not touching but for her hair mingling with mine and my arm around her waist and her grip on my wrist.
“So make it work,” I said, and the brown ring about her eye shrank.
She took the air deep into her, closing her eyes and scenting the possibilities of what I would and wouldn’t do. Her eyes were black when they opened, the last sliver of brown gone. “You’re afraid.”
“I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid I won’t be able to forget. I’m afraid it will change me.”
Ivy’s lips parted. “It will,” she breathed, inches away.
I shivered and closed my eyes. “Then help me not be afraid until I understand.”
Her fingers lightly touched my shoulder, and I jumped, eyes flashing open. Something shifted. I took a breath, then gasped when she slid into motion. I staggered backward—her one hand gripping my shoulder, the other still holding my wrist behind her—and she followed until my back hit the wall. Eyes wide and fixed to hers, I held my breath, unwilling to object. I’d seen this before. God, I’d lived it.