* 157 *

Leone shrugged.

"I've been looking around. I left my clothes downstairs." With that she lifted the blankets and slid in beside Amy.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm staying here tonight."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am." Leone's eyes glittered fiercely. Amy puffed and spluttered and threw back the covers.

"Fine. Do what you damn well want. I'm sleeping on the couch." She swung her legs out of the bed, but before she could rise Leone's arm coiled around her waist and easily hauled her back. She was spooned against Leone. Hot breath blew past her ear.

"Don't you ever leave our bed in anger." Leone growled, then roughly tongued the rim of Amy's ear, pulling the lobe into her mouth, nipping it gently.

"Ow. How dare-" Amy's words were drowned by the rip of fabric as her T-shirt was hoisted over off her body and flung away like wrapping paper. Leone dragged Amy closer, pushing her curls aside to nuzzle a sensitive spot right behind her ear. Her hands came around to cradle Amy's breasts and begin a sensuous, squeezing massage. Amy tried to twist away, but she was pinned tight.

"Let me go."

The heat pouring from Leone's body was overwhelming. Her mouth teased and sucked at just the right places on Amy's neck. Amy couldn't stop herself; she was instantly turned on, as if programmed to respond. Leone knew her far too well. She'd loved to be cradled like this when they were first together. To be spooned from behind while Leone played with her body until she became a puddle.

Young and inexperienced, they had fumbled along until they found a way that felt all their own. Leone had been the initiator then as well as now, her stronger sex drive carrying them through hot afternoons and sweaty nights of breathless exploration. Those strong arms again curved around Amy, cupping her breasts, pressing them into the heart of Leone's palms, against the mounts of Venus and Luna, the lines of life and fate.

The slow massage flamed down to her groin. Amy moaned and pushed her buttocks back into crisp, scratchy curls. She gripped her * 158 *

pillow, her other hand digging into Leone's hip, pinning her closer.

Leone's rumbling growls deepened in response to her touch. Amy knew the power of her own hands on Leone's flesh, too.

Leone's teeth clamped on her nape in a sucking kiss she found incredibly erotic. Her hand strayed over the curve of Amy's belly.

Amy moaned as their hips undulated in a luxurious rhythm. Leone carefully circled her clitoris, stroking with tender pressure. It was a knowing touch. Amy pushed into the hand. Their hips danced in sweaty harmony, the air thick with whispered breaths and sighs and that deep rolling hum that reverberated in Leone's throat when she was totally blissed.

Leone carefully increased the pressure, gliding through the silky wetness, cresting the tiny, super-sensitized organ, and matched Amy's excited hip sway. Thoroughly in control, she reveled in texture, scent, and sound. Amy's body sang for her with deep moans of pleasure. Amy pulsed against her, rolling along the length of her body. Time fell away for Leone, as if all the long years of waiting no longer mattered, had never even existed. This was where Amy was meant to be. This was natural and right. Leone held her with hands and thighs and teeth, biting her shoulder, arm, the nape of her neck.

Tasting, owning, marking. Letting the world know Amy was hers.

Amy rolled against the lean body spooning her. Leone had always been the perfect lover for her. Even as nervous teenagers their rhythm fit, their chemistry so complementary, so complete. She felt her clitoris swell under Leone's touch, her breasts full and heavy, tingling at the warm and addictive pleasure pouring through her.

"Mmmm, so good," she moaned, trying to twist onto her back.

She needed to touch Leone, too. Needed to see her, to connect with her. Leone growled and held her in place.

"I want to see you. I want to watch your face," Amy whispered and tried to turn again.

Instead Leone rolled her onto her belly. The dry warmth of Leone's skin flowed across Amy's back like desert sand; her long hair trailed silken shivers across her heated flesh.

Leone dropped delicious licks and nips down her spine, slowly kissing toward the flare of her hips. There she stopped, resting a cool * 159 *

face on the curve of Amy's buttocks. Her arm snaked in under Amy's waist, holding her tight. Amy raised her head to try to face her. The grip on her waist tightened pinning her in place. She lay totally still, her entire body goosefleshed as hot breath caressed her bottom, and listened to the deep breaths of Leone inhaling the intimate curve of her flesh. This is different...this is very, very different. I'm not sure about this...

Amy was experienced. She'd had many lovers. After all, she was a healthy, young woman. But she was shy about this. Uncertain.

There had only ever been the one time, with one lover. An act of sensual discovery. That lover was lying with her again tonight.

A low, hungry growl reverberated against her cheek as if to confirm the memory. Leone had always led the way, could never get enough. When she was younger Amy used to think Leone's passion would swallow her whole. Now it pinned her to the bed in turmoil.

Gingerly, she tried to move but found herself trapped by Leone's strength and weight.

"Leone?" she said quietly, then expelled a sharp gasp as her ass was roughly snuffled and nipped.

"Leone." Amy tried to jerk away, squirming. Several more nipping kisses covered both her butt cheeks, and a deeper growl commanded her to keep still. All uncertainty at Leone's intentions was stripped away as her crease was parted and a thick tongue run along its entire length. Amy's head kicked back, and she gave an involuntary whimper. The tongue laved her again and again, and suddenly she was back there, in the past, drowning in the dizziness of Leone's power and sexual energy, her body enslaved with every lusty act of worship carried out upon it.

Amy tried to clench but immediately Leone pushed deeper, this time concentrating solely on her anus, worrying it and rimming it firmly. Amy's skin prickled, her nerves leapt and quivered. Her mind screamed disapproval of this animalistic act, but her body was more than eager to embrace the sensations dancing along every nerve ending. Wriggling under the attention only increased the grip on her waist and the ferocity of the investigating tongue. Her weak attempts to pull away seemed to excite Leone into delivering more * 160 *

punishing nips and bites across her buttocks. All were designed to make Amy twitch and squirm deliciously.

Amy's face burned at the hot breath on her intimate flesh. Her heart hammered, fueled by her moral dismay, and a volcanic heat burned in her groin.

Leone's free hand wormed between her thighs and unerringly found her clitoris, which much to Amy's disbelief was incredibly plump and erect, totally connected to this new sexual high.

"Leone," she managed to blurt before the practiced fingers began to thrum. "Oh, God."

She was being cleverly played by a knowing lover. These hands knew her body, remembered it well. The sly tongue knew even more. It knew secrets even Amy was unaware of. Her thighs splayed, offering more of herself to the questing fingers, pushing her ass higher into the hungry mouth. She was panting now, her burning face buried in the pillow, clutching the sheet, her entire body rolling on Leone's tongue and fingertips. Her mind was spinning like a tossed coin. Orgasm tore her apart without warning, and she screamed into the pillow-another thing she had only ever done with Leone. No one else could make her cry out like a lost and wounded animal.

Finally, she lay belly down, stunned and gasping, trying to recover her breath. Leone rose and straddled her. Large hands squeezed her buttocks together firmly as Leone ground her own wet, aching need into her. She came quickly and quietly, after just a few short strokes, grunting Amy's name softly into the dark.

Leone lay sated and relaxed, looking over contentedly at her panting, prostrate partner. Amy managed to roll onto her back with great effort, and Leone reached over to brush the damp curls from her forehead.

"Never leave our bed again. Don't you know you're mine?"

she said.

"Yours?"

"Mine. All mine. I love you. I always have. I've never stopped."

Leone played with another stray curl. Amy reached up and stilled her hand.

* 161 *

"That's our past, Leone, not our future. I don't want to be owned. I want us to be lovers. Real people, who share, and talk openly and honestly, not ghosts from some unresolved past."

"You're my mate. You always have been." Leone's face tightened.

"We're lovers, Leone. There's no rejection here. We've been down this road before, and we both know where it can end. I'm here for a few weeks' contract, and to see how Connie is. Then I'll go back to London and my life. Let's just see where this takes us over time."

"Why are you denying this? You can't leave. Have you been talking to Marie or Connie? How can you take their side? Can't you see we're meant to be together?" Leone sat up, agitated.

Amy scooted upright, too. She leaned back against the headboard, drawing the sheet up over her chest.

"Leone, I need to go slow. I was hurt all those years ago. I lost so goddamn much. Confidence, self-esteem, trust in my own emotional decisions-and it wasn't as if I had that much to start out with. I lost you as my best friend. I lost you as my first love. In a way I even lost this valley, a place where I felt safe, and loved, and protected. I felt as if I'd lost my home. I was young, and losing you exploded my whole world in so many ways back then. But I can't afford for that to happen again. The sex between us is fantastic, it always was, but it's not going to be all there is."

"My world exploded, too. They sent me away. They said we were too young. That I was bad for you." Leone floundered, the explanation drying up in her mouth. Guilt poured out of her. She ached for this to be right. To be able to make it right, but years of waiting had not prepared her for this conversation. It had popped up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Leone couldn't explain-not yet. "They?"

"Marie and Connie. I went to Vancouver and you went to college in London. They wanted us apart. You know the rest."

"Marie and Connie sent us away. To stop us being together? But why? We were young, but we weren't that stupid. We were doing no one any harm. Why did they do that?" Amy was genuinely hurt * 162 *

at this revelation. There had to be some reason behind it. Marie and Connie were not hurtful, domineering people. Amy knew as a child she had been cared for, in fact, practically raised, by both of them.

Their disapproval made no sense.

Leone looked away. Amy could see her intense unhappiness.

She placed a hand on the tanned shoulder.

"Leone, why did you ask if I'd been speaking to Connie? How could I? She's in the retreat." The shoulder stiffened under her touch.

"I...I meant earlier. Years ago. I wondered if you'd ever discussed it. That's what I meant." She looked defeated, miserable, and angry. Amy wanted to hold her in her arms and make all the hurt go away, but they had to have this talk. This was their new foundation. She was determined if they had any chance at all they had to talk now. She also knew if she reached out to comfort Leone they would be thrashing all over the bed again, avoiding the main issue. It was Leone's way of old, to hide in lust and hope all those unspoken emotions would simply sort themselves out.

"Tell me the truth about last night," Amy said. Leone whipped around to face her, eyes guarded.

"The truth?"

"About you and Claude hitting the deer. About why you were covered in blood? I was driving his truck today, and it's fine."

"I never said it was Claude's truck. We were in Robert's.

He's taken it to the shop to get hammered out." The answer was too quick, too glib. Amy tried to remember the exact words of last night's conversation and gave up. She knew she was being lied to.

Her heart shrank. She tried again.

"Then tell me about the anniversary almanac you're planning with Connie. Why does it need those strange marks all over the illustrations?"

Leone's face became a hard, defensive mask. "You want to be told a lot about other people's business. Why don't you tell me about your work? How much have you done, if any? I see you everywhere you shouldn't be. Ignoring my advice and my orders. Have you done any work between your childish acts of autonomy?"

Amy bristled. "You're attacking me and my work? My work?

You shit-"

* 163 *

"Very professional, Amy." Leone flew out of the bed and headed for the ladder.

"What? You started an argument and now you're leaving? What happened to not leaving our bed in anger?"

Leone kept moving, ignoring her.

"Typical of you-make a run for it when talking has to be done."

Amy was furious. "Is this our future? Is this us communicating? Is this your friggin' protection? Fuck and run."

Amy was up on her knees shouting at Leone's back before she dipped down the ladder and out of sight. Leone spun around and in a flash was crouched on the bed beside her, nose to nose. Her eyes glittered with anger. Her lips pulled back into a snarl, her breath heavy with Amy's sex scent.

"Yes, Amy. We fuck. Fucking is what we do because you won't call it love."

Before Amy could blink she had turned and practically leapt down the ladder. She flung open the door and walked naked into the night with a bitter parting shot. "And if fucking is all you want, I can do that for you, too."

Amy watched her go, dismayed at the morass they had descended into after such intense intimacy. She blushed at the memory of what they had just done. It would be so easy to see the sexual tsunami they were surfing as an indicator of their emotional state. Leone certainly saw it that way. But it was not so for Amy. Leone was too forceful in bed. Too quick to grab at the pleasure and try to avoid the painful self-examination they both had to make. Leone was erotic and animalistic. She saw love as heart-numbing, mind-bending sex, not the complicated mix of trust and compromise it actually was.

Amy had the audacity to want more, to demand more. She wanted truth and honesty, not just a climactic high that for one brief, existential moment wiped away all the worries of the world. She wanted a real, hard-won, forever love-but only if Leone was going to fight for it alongside her.

If Amy was going to buy into a happy-ever-after story, she was damn well going to write the ending herself.

* 164 *

chapteR eiGhteen.

Amy slept in the following morning. Heavy overnight rain and the satisfied hum of her body lulled her into a deep and desperately needed sleep. It was too miserable outside for fieldwork; today she was studio bound.

Taking time for domestic chores, she threw some clothes into the washer. In the pocket of her jeans she found her lucky bullet. Maybe it's a bad idea to have live ammunition in your pocket. The wash cycle hummed along as she examined her tiny lucky charm. Was it tipped with silver? How bizarre. A silver bullet. In the movies the whole casing had to be silver to kill the werewolf. Was this another of Connie's charms from the Wicca book? At least it explained the smelter in the studio. Amy giggled; if she dug deep enough she was bound to find a spell that said you needed a dozen of these, and the blood of a mermaid.

Was it even a real bullet? Could you mess around artistically with live ammunition, adding decorative embellishments? Why not engrave them: "With Love," or "Surprise."

Amy snorted and fetched the Ruger Bearcat. The bullet slid home happily. Well, there you go. She emptied the chamber and left the gun on the mantel, dropping the bullet in her jacket pocket where it hung by the door. It was still significant to her. Maybe even charmed? She would keep it for luck. Though she scoffed, she was uneasy with her discovery. Amy didn't like it that Connie was into witchcraft and playing with silver bullets. It seemed so unlike her stoic aunt. Was all this related to the code, too?

* 165 *

The code now firmly back in her thoughts, Amy pulled the mysterious book from last night down from the shelf. Something about its cover played on her mind. She stood turning the heavy handmade tome in her hands. The cover art was beautiful, if not a little macabre. What was pulling her? She examined the entire book.

Whatever it was it was not registering on her consciousness.

With a dissatisfied sigh she began to slide the book back into its new home. Again, she paused. The spines on the bookshelf all blended into one another in a colorful mass. Amy stood and waited for her thoughts to clear. This often happened to her when her head was elsewhere, buried in the details of an illustration, or in this case the mechanisms of a cipher. She knew from past experience all she had to do was stand still, and whatever was tugging at her mind would slowly materialize. Sometimes it was something as silly as the laundry dial needed setting. Other times she had maybe forgotten to make a call to the bank, or had a dental appointment. A few times she had nearly missed a lunch date with friends. If she relaxed and cleared her head the answer would come to her. Something was bugging her, but what?

A little pig in a wimple sat on the spine of a Bosch art book, the twin of Marie's copy. Hieronymus Bosch? Amy frowned. The pig was from the Hell section of his Garden of Earthly Delights triptych. A painting that was everywhere in Little Dip. She'd seen it on Claude's key fob, Marie's wall, and Leone's screensaver. She'd even noticed it emblazoned on a T-shirt across Paulie's skinny chest. Amy stilled with the new book not quite slotted into place.

The naked man hanging through the passkey on its cover. That was Bosch symbolism if ever she saw it. It was certainly his style.

She pulled out the Bosch art book. Its dustcover was a detailed rendition of part of his famous Garden triptych. Spreading the cover out on the table, she was better able to look at the painting in detail. There he was, the man halfway through the key, in Hell, poor bastard-The key! Halfway through the key! She was halfway through the code. The book was the halfway point. It was so obvious.