Key of Knowledge - SG - Chaps 12&13 - 18/7/10 - Page 10

hi

finally back to reading

chapter 4-

chapter 5-

Hey Aastu..

Thanks for sending me this link.

I started reading yesterday and I loved the FF, dear

I think, I want to read the book too now.... 😆

I love reading... And when it is on Mayur... Well...I am mad..

I read Key of Light.

I just loved all the chapters.

I will read Key of Knowledge, too, as I want to know what will happen in the story now.

I won't say lie, I had thought at a point of starting the story that I will read only Mayur chapters...

But the story has really made me engrossed in it...

I love the friendship of Nupur, Gunjan and Ridhima

Though I am not a Sajan fan much Or AR fan at all because I never watched DMG, I liked them in your FF.

And Pitte and Rowena, too

Now will read next chapters as I will get time...

And please PM me whenever you update, ok?

Thanks again for link.

Love,
$hrey@

Chapter Nine

Gunji tried working off her emotional frustration with the books. She focused on the goal, and spent half the night sifting through data, words, notes, and her own speculations about the location of the key. Her primary reward was a massive headache. What little sleep she managed to get was restless and unsatisfying. When even Moe failed to perk up her morning mood, she decided to give physical labor a try. She dropped Moe back at Mayank's by simply opening the front door with her key and letting him bullet inside. Since it was still short of nine of a Sunday morning, she imagined the household was sleeping. In her current mood, the machine-gun barking that sprayed through the quiet as Moe charged up the stairs made her lips curve in a dark, wicked smile as she heard Nupur's surprised scream followed by Mayank's curse."You go, Moe," she cheered, shut the door, and strolled back to her car. She drove directly to the building. Indulgence, she corrected herself as she parked. It was going to be Indulgence, so she needed to start thinking of it that way instead of as "the house" or "the building." When she unlocked the door and stepped inside, the strong smell of fresh paint hit her. It was a good smell, she decided. The smell of progress, of newness, of accomplishment. Maybe the white primer wasn't pretty, but it was sure as hell bright, and looking at it, she could see just how far they'd come already. "So let's keep going." She pushed up her sleeves and headed to the supplies and tools. It occurred to her that this was the first time, the only time, she'd been alone here. On the heels of that came the thought that maybe she was asking for trouble being alone in a place where Kane had already wielded his sorcery. She glanced uneasily up the steps. And thought of cold blue mist. As if the chill of it crept over her skin, she shuddered. "I can't be afraid to be here." The way her voice echoed made her wish she'd brought along a radio. Anything to fill the silence with normal sound. Won't be afraid to be here, she corrected herself as she opened a can of paint. How could she, or any of them, make this place their own if they were afraid to come into it alone? There were bound to be times when one of them came in early or stayed late. The three of them couldn't be attached at the hip. She-all of them-would have to get used to the quiet of the place, and the settling noises. Normal quiet, normal noises, she assured herself. Hell, she liked being alone and having a big, empty house all to herself. It was tailor-made Gunji time. The memory of Kane's nasty games wasn't going to scare her off. And since she was alone, she didn't have to compete for the super paint machine. Still, as she began to work she wished she could hear the girls voices, as she had before, turning all those empty rooms into something bright and cheerful. She comforted herself that they'd finished priming Nups's section and had a good start on hers. It would be a kick to finish her own space with her own hands.

"Do you think it matters? A little shop in a little town? Will you work, struggle, worry, pour your mind and your heart into something so meaningless? And why? Because you have nothing else."

"But you could." She felt the cold shiver over her skin. It made her breath come too fast, tightened the muscles of her stomach toward pain. She continued to paint, guiding the roller over the wall, listening to the faint hum of the motor. She couldn't seem to stop.

"It matters to me. I know what I want."

"Do you?"

He was there, somehow there. She could sense him in the chill. Perhaps he was the chill.

"A place of your own. You thought you had one before, all those years of work, of serving others. Yet does anyone care that you're gone?"

It was a well-aimed arrow. Had anyone even noticed she was no longer at the library? All the people she'd worked with, worked for? All the patrons she'd helped? Had she been so replaceable that her absence hadn't caused a single ripple? Hadn't she mattered at all?

"You gave the man your heart, your loyalty, but he cast you off without a thought. How much did you matter to him?" Not enough, she thought.

"I can change that. I can give him to you. I could give you a great many things. Success?"

The shop was full of people. The shelves were filled with books. The pretty tables were crowded with customers sipping tea, having conversations. She saw a little boy sitting cross-legged on the floor in the corner with a copy of Where the Wild Things Are open in his lap. Everything about the scene spoke of pleasure-the combination of relaxation and brisk business. The walls were exactly the right shade, she thought. Nupur had been on the money there. The light was good, made everything friendly, and all those wonderful books temptingly arranged, on shelves, on displays. She wandered like a ghost, passing through the bodies of people who browsed or bought, who sat or stood. She saw familiar faces, the faces of strangers, heard the voices, smelled the scents. Attractive and intriguing sidelines were set up here and there. Yes, yes, those were the note cards she'd decided to carry. And the bookmarks, the bookends. Wasn't that the perfect reading chair? Roomy, broken in, welcoming. It was very clever to use the kitchen as the hub of the three enterprises, with books, candles, lotions, and art all together to illustrate how nicely each complemented the others. It was her vision, she realized. Everything she was hoping for. "You'll enjoy it, of course, but it won't be enough."

She turned. He was there. It didn't surprise her in the least to see Kane standing beside her as people moved around them, through them. Who were the ghosts? she wondered distantly. He was dark and handsome, almost romantically so. The black hair framed a strong and compelling face. His eyes smiled into hers, but even now she could see something frightening lurking behind them. "Why won't it be enough?"

"What will you do at the end of the day? Sit alone with only your books for company? Alone when everyone else gathers with their families? Will any of them give you a single thought after they walk out the door?"

"I have friends. I have family."

"Your brother has a woman, and the woman has him. You're not part of that, are you? The other has a son, and you'll never be inside what they have. They'll leave you, as everyone else has done." His words were like darts in the heart, and as she bled from them she saw him smile again. Almost kindly. "I can make him stay." He spoke gently now, as one did to the wounded. "I can make him pay for what he did to you, for his carelessness, for his refusal to know what you needed from him. Wouldn't you like him to love you as he has loved no other? Then, at your whim, you can keep him or discard him?"

She was in a room she didn't recognize, yet somehow knew. A large bedroom, saturated with color. Deep blue walls, an enormous bed covered in a ruby comforter, mounded with jewel-toned pillows. There was a generous sitting area, with two wing chairs facing a snapping fire. It was here that she sat, with Sam kneeling at her feet. Her hands were clutched in his. And his trembled.

"I love you, Gunji. I never knew I could feel like this, as if there's no point in taking the next breath unless you're with me." It was wrong. Wrong. His face never looked weak and pleading. "Stop it."

"You have to listen." His voice urgent, he buried his head in her lap. "You have to give me a chance to show you, to prove to you how much I love you. The biggest mistake of my life was leaving you. Nothing I've done, nothing I've touched since has meant anything. I'll do anything you want." He lifted his head and with some horror, she caught the gleam of tears in his eyes. "Be anything you want. If you'll only forgive me, let me spend every minute of every day for the rest of my life worshiping you."

"Get the hell away from me!" Shocked, panicked, she shoved at Sam, knocking him back as she scrambled to her feet.

"Kick me. Beat me. I deserve it. Just let me stay with you."

"Do you think this is what I want?" She shouted it as she spun in a circle. "Do you think you can control me by making pictures out of my thoughts? You don't understand what I want, and that's why I'll beat you. No deal, asshole. And this is not only a lie, it's pathetic."

The fury in her voice echoed even when she found herself standing in the empty room with the paint roller on the floor at her feet. Scrawled on the white wall in oily black was the message:

Drown thyself!

"Fat chance, you bas***d." Though her hands shook, she picked up the roller and covered the black with fresh white primer. Then they steadied, and her fingers dug in on the handle of the roller. "Wait a minute, wait a minute!" Her mind whirling, she dropped the roller with a splatter of paint, grabbed her bag and ran as though the gods were chasing her. Minutes later, she charged into her apartment. She tossed her purse aside and grabbed the library copy of Othello.

"'Drown thyself, drown thyself.' It's in here." She flipped pages, frantically pulling the scene and context into her mind as she searched for the quote. It was one of Iago's lines, when he was doing one of his numbers on Roderigo. She knew that line. When she found it, she sat down on the floor." 'It is a lust of the blood and a permission of the will,' " she read aloud." 'Come, be a man. Drown thyself! drown cats and blind puppies.' "" She fought for calm.

A lust of the blood and a permission of the will. Yes, that described Kane's vicious acts.

Jealousy, guile, betrayal, and ambition. What Iago knew, what Othello was ignorant of. Kane as Iago? The god-king as Othello. The king hadn't killed, but still the daughters-those he loved-were lost to him through lies and ambition. And the play-surely this play had beauty, truth, courage. Was it the key? Ordering herself to be methodical, she paged through the book, searched its binding. Setting it aside, she found her own copy and did the same. She forced herself to sit again, to read through the entire scene. There were other copies of the play. She would go to the mall bookstore, search through those. She could hit the library again on Monday. Rising, she began to pace. There were probably dozens of copies of Othello in various forms around the Valley. She would go to the schools, the college. She'd knock on damn doors if she had to.

"'Drown thyself,' my ass," she repeated and scooped up her purse. She would drive to the mall right now. She'd already wrenched open the door when it struck her. Her own fury knocked her two steps back before she slammed the door shut again. She was being a fool, a mark. An idiot. Who had written the words on the wall? Kane. A liar quoting a liar. It wasn't a clue. It was misdirection. Something to have her running off on a tangent. Exactly as she had done.

"Goddamn it!" She flung her purse across the room. "Outright lies or twisted truth? Which is it?" Resigned, she marched across the room to retrieve her purse. She had to find out, so it looked like she was taking that trip to the mall after all.

SHE was, Gunji thought when she arrived home, probably as calm as she was going to get after spending the morning on what she was certain was a wild-goose chase. Still, she'd be happier when the girls arrived. If nothing else, a girlfriend afternoon would cheer her up. They'd have some food, they'd talk. And when Gunji had called and said she needed them to come, Ridz had promised pedicures. Not a bad deal. She carried the Chinese food she'd picked up into the kitchen, set it on the counter. Then just stood there for a moment. All right, she admitted, maybe she wasn't calm, maybe she wasn't steady. Not quite yet. And her head was screaming from the echoes of the morning fear, the frustration that had followed. She walked to the bathroom, took a bottle of Extra-Strength Tylenol out of the medicine cabinet, and washed two down with tap water. Maybe she should have opted for a nap instead of company. But despite the headache, the vague nausea, this was one time she didn't want to be alone. She nearly flew to the door at the knock.

R -"Are you all right?" stepped in, dropped the bags she carried on the floor, then gathered her in her arms. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here."

G -"It's okay. I'm all right." No, this was much better than a nap. "I'm just really glad you're here. What about Sahil?"

R -"Mayank took him. It was really nice. He and Sam are taking Sahil over to Arman's. He can run around with Moe, play with guys, eat junk food, watch football. Sahil's thrilled. Isn't Nups here yet? She left before I did."

N -"Right behind you." came hurrying down the hall, then held up a bakery box before she stepped inside the apartment. "I made a stop. Brownies-double fudge."

G -"I love you guys." voice broke as she said it and, appalled, she pressed her fingers to her eyes. "Oh, Jesus, I'm in worse shape than I thought. It's been a very crappy day so far."

R -"Sweetie, you come sit down." Taking charge drew her across the room to the sofa. "You just relax for a minute. I'm going to fix you something to eat."

G -"I got Chinese. In the kitchen."

R -"That's fine. You just take it easy, we will take care of everything."

They fixed plates, brewed tea, tucked a throw over her legs, and generally did all the things women instinctively know how to do to offer comfort.

G -"Thanks. I mean it. I didn't realize I was that close to cracking. bas***d really got to me."

N -"Tell us what happened." stroked Gunji's hair.

G -"I went over to our place, to paint. I woke up cranky and needed something to do. about siccing Moe on you so early."

N -"Not a problem."

G -"So." She soothed her throat with tea. "I started painting. It felt good, and I was thinking about how everything was going to look. Then he was there."

She started to tell them, as coherently as she could.

R -"That's just bullshit! That's just a lie. Of course you matter. He doesn't know a damn thing about it."

G -"He's just playing on my weaknesses. I know it. Leaving the library bothered me, more than I've been willing to admit. I guess I've been feeling like what I did there didn't really matter to anyone but me. He uses things like that, then makes them bigger, more hurtful."

She picked up her tea again and told them how he'd transformed the rooms into her finished bookstore. "It was my vision of it,One I hadn't completely realized I had. Not just the way it looked but the way it felt, too. And, of course, loaded with customers. He made it seem like it couldn't be that way unless he did it for me. That was a mistake, because it can be. Okay, maybe not bursting at the seams with customers, but the way it looked, the way it felt. It can be that way because it's mine. It's ours. And we'll make it that way."

R -"Damn straight." Seated on the floor at her feet, gave Gunji's knee a squeeze.

G -"Then he shifted to Sam. I've got to have a brownie now. There's this fabulous bedroom, one of my dream rooms, you know? The place you build in your head if you could have a room done any way you want it? And Sam's kneeling at my feet, like a supplicant. He's all but in tears, telling me how he loves me, how he can't live without me. All this junk he would never say in a million years. The kind of thing I've had him say in my head, so I could kick him in the teeth after. Payback stuff. Jeez, he's even telling me to kick him, beat him, whatever." She broke off at the snicker and aimed a look at Ridz. Then her lips twitched. "Okay, maybe it is funny when you think about it. The Shergill, weeping at my feet, begging me to let him spend his life worshiping me."

Nupur decided it was time for a brownie as well.

N -"What was he wearing?"

After one long pause, Gunji burst out laughing. All the aches, the tension, the illness vanished.

G -"Thanks. Man, when I think I was next to sobbing like a baby. I was even feeling guilty because the deal with Sam was close to a couple I used to toy around with. How he would realize his horrible mistake, come crawling back and beg. It seems satisfying in your head, you know. But let me tell you, when it really happens-or seems to-it's just horrible. So, basically, I told Kane he could kiss my ass, and I was back where I'd started."

R -"You had a pretty lousy morning."

G -"There's one more thing. There was writing on the wall, in this greasy black. 'Drown thyself!' I painted over it."

R -"That's horrible. He was trying to make you remember the island, the storm, He's just huffing and puffing, that's all. He couldn't even make you think anything he did this morning was real. You knew it was him all along."

G -"I don't think he wanted it any other way, I think he was trying a new line of attack. But the writing? Not about the island. It's a line from Othello. I recognized it almost immediately, just as I've now realized he knew I would. I went running out of our place like a maniac to get back here and look it up. To look for the key in the book."

R -"It's from a book? I don't know how you'd remember something like that. It's a real talent. But why would Kane give you a clue to the key?"

G -"Now, quick wit-that's a real talent. I got suckered in. All I could think was that I knew the line, and how I'd been focused on that play, with the way Iago mirrored Kane in so many ways. So I went baring off, half-cocked, sure the key was going to fall right into my hot little hand. Even when the light finally dawned, I just had to follow through. Hence, half a day wasted chasing the wild goose."

N -"It's not wasted if you figured it out. You knew he was lying about the bookstore. Know the truth from his lies? Isn't that how it went? You did. And you realized he'd written a kind of lie to throw you off. But if you hadn't followed through, you wouldn't be sure."

G -"I guess. I'm still going to be snatching at every copy of that play I come across."

N -"I'll tell you something important you figured out today. You knew the truth was we're in this together, so you called us. And you know, however satisfying the fantasy might be when you're hurt or mad, you don't want Sam to be a lapdog."

G -"Well… maybe just for a couple of days. Especially if Ridz can teach him how to give a foot rub. The thing is … I'm in love with him. Stupid jerkoff." She let out a long, long sigh. "I don't know what the hell I'm going to do about it."

N - "Iknow honey. Here. Have another brownie."

IF she dreamed, Gunji didn't remember it when she woke in the morning. And when she woke, the drum of rain and the gloom had her turning over, with the plan to go directly back to sleep. Moe had other ideas. Without much choice, she threw on clothes, added a fielder's cap and her oldest boots. Choosing a mug of coffee over an umbrella, she walked Moe in the rain and revved up her system with caffeine. They were both soaked when the deed was done, forcing her to drag him into the bathroom. He whined, cried, tried to dig his paws into the floor as if she were taking him to slaughter. By the time she'd toweled him off, she smelled as much like wet dog as he did. A shower and another hit of coffee helped. She was just about to decide which one of her books to settle in with for the rainy morning when her phone rang. Ten minutes later, she was hanging up the phone and grinning down at Moe. IT kicked her into gear. Gunji decided it was symbolic. She'd received validation of her purpose, her place in the community when she was asked her if she would emcee on a freelance basis at the library as there were many customers asking for her. The simple fact was, the Valley was vital to her, and this in-between stage-post-library, pre-bookstore- had left her feeling disenfranchised. It wasn't the amount of work she had to do but the fact that the work she'd done in the past hadn't seemed to have any significance to anyone other than herself. She dived in with a vengeance, placing orders for books, opening accounts, ordering her displays. Her mood was lifted to the point that when she was deep into the key books and the knock interrupted, she wasn't irritated.

G -"Time to come up for air anyway." She pulled open the door, then frowned at the young man who stood there, holding a single red rose in a clear bud vase. "Trolling for girls? You're pretty cute, but a little young for me." He flushed, red as the rose.

B -"Yes, ma'am. No, ma'am. Gunjan Mehra?"

G -"That's right."

B -"For you." He passed her the vase, then took off. Still frowning, she closed the door, then tugged off the card tied to the vase. Reminded me of you,

Sam In his mind, Sam was in the forest of the Pacific Northwest. Hunted. He had his wits, his will, and his need to see his woman again as his weapons. If he could survive for the next five minutes, he could survive for ten. For ten, he could survive an hour. For the hunter wanted more than his life. It wanted his soul. Fog slithered, gray snakes along the ground. The blood from the hastily bound wound in his arm seeped through the bandage and dripped into the mist. The pain kept him sharp, reminded him that he had more than blood to lose. He should have seen it for a trap. That had been his mistake. But there was no going back, no point in regrets, no point in prayers. His only option was to keep moving. And to live. He heard a sound. To his left? A kind of whispering the fog could make when parted by mass. He melted into the trees, pressed his back" against bark. Flight, he asked himself, or fight?

G -"What the hell game are you playing?"

S -"Oh God." He popped back from the world in his mind, the one speeding onto the screen through the rush of his fingertips over keys. The speed of the trip had the blood roaring in his ears as he stared at Gunjan. She stood in the doorway, hands on hips, eyes full of suspicion.

S -"This is the little game I call writing for a living. Go away, come back later."

G -"I'm talking about the flower, and I've got just as much right to be here as you do. It's my brother's house."

S -"And this is, currently, my room in your brother's house."

She gave it one derisive scan. There was a bed, unmade, her own childhood dresser that she'd passed to Mayank when he'd bought the house, an open suitcase on the floor. The desk where Sam worked had been Mayu's during his teenage years and was missing one of the three drawers that ran down the side. On it was a laptop, some files and books, a pack of cigarettes, and a metal ashtray.

G -"Looks more like a weigh station,"

S -"It doesn't have to be pretty." Resigned, he reached for his cigarettes.

G -"That's a brainless habit."

S -"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He lit it, deliberately blew out smoke. "Half a pack a day, and mostly when I'm working. Get off my back. What're you riled up about, anyway? I thought women liked getting flowers."

G -"You sent me a single red rose."

S -"That's right." He considered her more thoughtfully now. Her hair was pulled back, so she'd been working. She hadn't bothered with makeup, so she hadn't planned on leaving the house. She was wearing jeans, a very faded Penn State sweatshirt, and shined black-leather boots with a stubby heel. Which meant, he deduced from his knowledge of her, that she'd been planning to work around the apartment, then had grabbed the first pair of shoes that came to hand because she'd been in a hurry. And that meant the flower had done the job.

S -"The single-red-rose gambit is supposed to be romantic." He smiled when he said it, just a little smugly. She stepped into the room, skirted the suitcase.

G -"You said it reminded you of me. Just what's what supposed to mean?"

S -"It's long and sexy, and it smells good. What's the problem, Sweets?"

G-"Look, you went for the big splashy date Saturday. Good job. But if you think I can be taken in by a fancy meal and a rosebud, you're sadly mistaken."

He hadn't shaved, she noted, and could have used a haircut. Damn it, she'd always been a sucker for that heading-toward-scruffy look on him. Then there was the expression on his face when she stepped in the door, before he'd known she was there. Half dreamy, half gone. And his mouth had been sort of grim and determined. She had to grip the doorjamb to stop herself from rushing over and biting that mouth. And now he was just watching her, that cocky half smile on his face. She didn't know whether to punch him or jump him,

G -"I'm not some starry-eyed kid this time around, and… what are you grinning at?"

S -"Got you over here, didn't it?"

G -"Well, I'm not staying. I'm just here to tell you it doesn't work."

S -"I missed you. The more I'm around you, the more I realize how much." Her heart fluttered and was ruthlessly ignored.

G -"That doesn't cut it with me either."

S -"What does?"

G -"You might try straight-up honesty for a change. Saying what you mean without any of the goofy touches. Which are clichs, by the way," she added as he stubbed out the cigarette and got to his feet. And clichs became clichs, she thought, because they goddamn worked.

S -"All right." He stopped in front of her, hooked his fingers in the neck of her sweatshirt and tugged her forward. "Can't get my mind off you. I can tuck you away in it for stretches of time, but you're still in there. Like a splinter."

G -"So yank me out." She thrust up her chin. "Go ahead."

S -"I like you there, which makes me a glutton for punishment. I like you here, curling your lip at me and smelling of rain." He reached up, tugged the band out of her hair and tossed it aside. Then he wrapped his fingers where the band had been.

S - "I really want you gunjan." He angled his head, kept his eyes on hers. "How's that for straight-up honesty?"

G -"Not half bad."

Chapter Ten

HE stared at her, trying to gauge her mood.

S -"If that wasn't a yes, you'd better run for the door. Fast."

G -"It-" The rest of the words spilled down her throat when he swung her off her feet.

S -"Too late. I win by default." She did her best to frown, but it wasn't easy with the giddy thrill pumping through her.

G -"Maybe I only want you because you're one of the few guys who can cart me around like I'm in the featherweight division."

S -"It's a start. What are you carrying now?" He juggled her a bit. "About one-fifty?"

A dangerous glint sharpened her eyes.

G -"You think a comment like that's going to make me go gooey?"

S -"And every ounce exquisitely packed."

G -"Nice save."

S -"Thanks. I like your face, too."

G -"If you're about to say something about it being full of character, I'm going to hurt you."

S -"Those deep, dark eyes." He laid her on the bed as he looked into them. "I never could get the image of those eyes out of my head. Then there's that mouth. All soft and ripe and tasty." He nipped into her bottom lip, tugged gently. "I could spend hours thinking about your mouth." She wasn't going gooey, exactly, but she had to admit something inside was definitely warming up.

G - "You're better at this than you used to be."

S -"Shut up. I'm working here." He cruised his lips over her cheeks. "Then there's the Smile. Unexpected, capricious, strangely sexy. I've always loved the look of you."

He took her mouth again, long, slow, and deep until the pleasure spread from that point of contact through her body and straight down to her toes. Oh, yes, she thought, he was much, much better at it now.

S -"Remember that first time with us?" She arched a little, shifted a little as he nuzzled at her neck.

G -"Since we all but set the living room rug on fire, it's a little tough to forget it."

S-"All that pent-up passion and energy. It's a wonder we survived it."

G-"We were young and resilient." He eased back, smiled at her.

S -"Now we're older and smarter. I'm going to drive you crazy, and it's going to take a very long time."

The muscles in her belly quivered. She needed to be touched. She needed to be shared, and with him-always with him-she could have both. She'd known they would end up here when she'd walked out of her apartment. Maybe she'd known, down deep, they'd end up here the minute she'd opened Mayank's door and seen Sam standing outside. She wanted, he wanted. She could only hope that could be enough for her.

G -"It happens I have some time on my hands just now."

S -"Let's start' right here."

His lips took hers with a kind of restrained urgency that shot shock waves of hot need through her system. Even as her heart leaped, he changed the tone, gentled it until that raging beat went slow and thick. She floated back on the memory of what had been between them. The fire and the sinew of it. And forward again, to what was now. A kind of wonder and depth. The years hadn't really changed it. How she'd missed this knowing of another. And the rush of love that streamed through the pleasure of being known by him.

She felt whole after a really long time Not that she intended to mention it. Despite the afterglow and the filmy haze of love, she didn't have to feed his ego. Then again, sex had never been their problem. Wasn't their problem the fact she didn't know what their problem had been? Or was. Or might be. Hell with it.

S -"You're thinking again, You think so damn loud. I don't suppose you could put it off another few minutes, just until I regenerate some brain cells."

G -"When they're dead they're dead, smart guy."

S -"That was a metaphor, a delicate euphemism."

G -"Nothing delicate about you, especially your euphemism."

G -"I'm going to take that as a compliment." He tugged on her hair until she lifted her head.

S -"You sure look good, Sweets, all rumpled and had. Are you going to stay?" She cocked her head.

G -"Am I going to get rumpled and had again?"

S -"That's the plan."

G -"Then I guess I can stick around for round two." She rolled aside, sat up and raked her fingers through her hair. And when he reached out, she cocked her brows knowingly. She gave his cheek a friendly rub, then stretched.

G -"God. I'm starving."

S -"Want to order a pizza?"

G-"I can't wait for pizza. I need immediate fueling. There's got to be something that passes for food in the kitchen."

S -"Wouldn't count on it. Kitchen's pretty torn up. Construction zone."

G -"A real man would go down and hunt up provisions."

S -"I hate when you do that. I always did."

G -"I know." It absolutely warmed her cockles. "Does it still work?"

S-"Yeah. Shit." He got out of bed, dragged on his jeans. "You're going to take what you get. No bitching."

G -"Deal." Satisfied, she lay back down on her side, snuggled into the pillow. "Problem?" she asked when he only stood, staring at her.

S -"No. Brain cells regenerating."

G - "Food."

S -"I'm on it."

She felt quite smug as he walked out of the room. Maybe it was just a little small of her to gloat, even mentally, that she still knew how to push his buttons. But it brought her such a nice glow, how wrong could it be? And it was better, wasn't it, then letting herself get all worried and churned up about what was going to happen next. This time around she would be smarter, enjoy the moment and restrain herself from expecting more. They enjoyed each other's company. They shared people who mattered, very much, to both of them. And they had a strong sexual connection. It was the basis of a good, healthy relationship. So why the hell did she have to be in love with him? If not for that one little thing, it would be perfect. Still, when you approached it realistically, it really was her problem. Just as it had been her problem before. He wasn't obliged to love her back, and whatever she put into or took out of the situation was her own doing. He cared about her. She closed her eyes and bit back a sigh.Oh God, that was a sting. Was there anything more painful or lowering than being in love with someone who sincerely cared about you? Better not to think about it, to turn that part of herself off, as long as she could manage it. She didn't have any illusions this time around about them being together forever, building a home, making a family, forging a future. His life was hi New York, and hers Was here. And God knew she had enough in her life to satisfy and occupy her without adding to it by spinning dreams that included Samrat Shergil. He'd only hurt her before because she'd let herself be hurt. She wasn't just older, she decided. She was smarter and stronger now. While she was trying to convince herself, she stared at his laptop. His screen saver had come on, and was nothing but a shifting spiral of color that was already making her dizzy. How did he stand it? As soon as she thought it, she had the answer. It would irritate him enough to push him back to work.

Considering, she sat up. He hadn't turned the machine off when she'd interrupted him. He hadn't closed the document ' had he? She bit her lip, glanced toward the doorway.

That meant whatever he'd been writing was still on the screen, and if she just happened to give the mouse a little shake, it would pop right up. And if she just happened to read what he'd written, what was the harm?

Keeping an ear out for footsteps, she slid out of bed, tiptoed over to the desk. She tapped the mouse gently with a fingertip to flick the screen saver off. With one last glance toward the doorway, she scrolled back two pages in the document, then began to read. She was caught up quickly, though she hit what was obviously the middle of a descriptive paragraph. He had a way of pulling you into the scene, surrounding you with it. And this one was dark and cold and quietly terrifying. Something lurked. By the first page she was in the hero's head, knowing his sense of urgency and the underlying fear. Something hunted, and was already feeding off pain.

When she came, to the end of what he'd written, she swore. "Well, damn it, what happens next?"

S -"That's a hell of a compliment from a woman,"

She jumped. She cursed herself, but she all but jumped out of her skin, which was all she was wearing. And she flushed, which was considerably worse. She felt the heat spread over her as she whirled to see Sam standing in the doorway, jeans carelessly unbuttoned, hair mussed, a bag of Fritos, a can of Coke, and an apple in his hands.

G -"I was just'" There wasn't any way out of it, she realized, and so she simply told the embarrassing truth. "I was curious. And rude."

S -"No big deal."

G -"No, really, I shouldn't have poked around in your work. But it was just there, which is your fault for not closing the file."

S -"Which would make it your fault for interrupting me, then distracting me with sex."

G -"I certainly didn't use sex just so I could '" She broke off, heaved out a breath. He was grinning at her, and she could hardly blame him. "Hand over the Fritos."

Instead, he walked to the bed, sat back against the pillow. He crunched into the apple, handed her the soda.

S -"So, you want to know what happens next?"

G -"I was mildly interested." She popped the top of the Coke, took a long sip. She ate some Fritos, traded them for the apple, traded them back. And, she thought in disgust, he wasn't going to crack.

"Okay, who is he? What's after him? How did he get there?"

He took the Coke. Was there anything more satisfying than having someone who shared your love of books being so interested in one of yours? he wondered.

S-"It's a long story. Let's just say he's a man who's made mistakes, and he's looking for a way to fix them. Along the way he finds out there aren't any easy answers, that redemption-the real thing-carries a price. That love, the kind that matters, makes the price-worth paying."

G-"What did he do?"

S-"Betrayed a woman, killed a man." He ate more chips, listened to the rain drum and patter-outside the window, and in the forest in his mind. "He thought he had reasons for both. Maybe he did. But were they the right reasons?"

G-"You're writing it, you ought to know."

S-"No, he has to know. That's part of the price of redemption. The not-knowing haunts him, hunts him as much as what's with him in the woods."

G-"What is with him in the woods?"He chuckled.

S-"Read the book."

G-"That's a very underhanded method of making a sale."

S-"A guy's gotta make a living. Even if it is with 'mundane and predictable commercial fiction.' One of your pithy reviews of my work." She felt a twang of guilt, but shrugged it off.

G-"I'm a librarian. Former librarian," she corrected. "And I'm about to become a bookstore owner. I value all books."

S-"Some more than others."

G-"That would be a matter of personal taste rather than a professional outlook." Now she wanted to squirm. "Certainly your commercial success indicates you write books that satisfy the masses." He shook his head and abruptly craved a cigarette.

S-"Nobody damns with faint praise better than you, Gunji."

G-"I didn't mean it that way." She was, she realized, digging a hole for herself. But she could hardly confess to being a fan of his work when she was sitting in his bed. It was a sure way to make both of them feel ridiculous. And would make any honest praise seem like pandering.

G-"You're doing what you always wanted to do, Sam, and successfully. You should be proud of yourself."

S-"No argument there." He polished off the Coke, set the can aside. Wrapped his fingers around her ankle. "Still hungry?" Relieved that the topic had been tabled, she rolled up the bag of chips, tossed it on the floor beside the bed.

G-"As a matter of fact," she began, then hugged him.

IT shouldn't bother him so much, and it irritated the hell out of him that it did. He didn't expect everyone to like his work. He'd long ago stopped being bruised or deflated by a poor review or a disgruntled comment from a reader. He wasn't some high-strung, temperamental artist who fell into funks at the slightest criticism. But damn it, Gunji's dismissal of his work dug holes in him. It was worse now, Sam thought as he gazed out the bedroom window and brooded. Worse that she'd been kind about it. It had been easier to take her scathing and unsolicited opinions of his talent, her snotty, elitist dismissal of his field than her gentle and kindly meant pat on the head. He wrote thrillers, often with a whiff of something other, and she dismissed them as hackneyed commercialism that appealed to the lowest common denominator. He could handle that, if she was an elitist book snob, but she was far from it. She simply loved books. Her apartment was crammed with them and there was plenty of genre fiction on her shelves. Though he'd noted there was nothing on them by him. And, yeah, he thought, it stung more than a little. He'd been ridiculously pleased to come back into the bedroom and see her bent over his laptop, to see what he'd believed had been avid interest in the story he was building. Curiosity, as she'd said. Nothing more. Best to put that one away, he told himself. Lock it away iii a box before it dug in too deep and started to fester. They were lovers again, and thank God for it. They were, he hoped, halfway to being friends again as well. He didn't want to lose her, lover arid friend, because he couldn't get past her disinterest or disapproval of his work. She didn't know what it meant to him to be a writer. How could she? Oh, she knew it was what he'd wanted and hoped for. But she didn't know why it was so vital to him. He'd never shared that with her. There was a great deal that he hadn't shared with her; he admitted. His work, yes. He'd often asked her to read something he'd done, and naturally had been pleased and satisfied when she'd praised it-intrigued and interested when she'd discussed the story and offered her opinions. The fact was, on a purely practical level, hers was one of the opinions he valued most. But he'd never told her how much he'd needed to make something of himself. As a man, as a writer. For himself, certainly. And for his mother. It was, for Sam, the only way he knew to pay his mother back for all she'd done for him, all she'd given up for him, all she'd worked for. But he'd never shared that with Gunji, or anyone else. Never shared with anyone that private grief, the drowning guilt or the desperate need. So, he would put it away again and concentrate on rebuilding what he could and starting fresh with what he couldn't rebuild. His current hero wasn't the only one looking for redemption.

Gunjan waited until she'd painted an entire wall in what was to be Ridz's main salon area. She'd bitten her tongue half a dozen times that morning, had talked herself out of saying anything, then had taken the internal debate full circle again. In the end she convinced herself that it was an insult to friendship not to speak.

G-"I slept with Sam." She blurted it out, kept her eyes trained on the wall she was painting, and waited for her friends to burst out with comments and questions. When five long seconds ran by in silence, she turned her head and caught the look passing between them.

G-"You knew? You already knew? You mean to tell me that arrogant, self-satisfied son of a bitch ran right to Mayank to brag that he'd banged me?"

N-"No." barely swallowed a laugh. "At least not that I know of. And I'm sure if Sam had said anything about it to Mayank, Mayank would've told me. Plus I don't think the would have 'bragged' about having sex with you with your brother..informing him is a different story. Anyway, we didn't know. We just'" She trailed off, then studied the ceiling.

R-"We were wondering how long it would take before the two of you jumped each other, Actually, we thought about starting a pool on it, but decided that would be a little crass. I'd've won," she added. "I had today as spontaneous combustion day. Nups figured you'd hold out another week."

G-"Well." fisted her hands on her hips. "That's a hell of a note."

N-"We didn't actually bet. And see what good friends we are, not even pointing out that you're telling us, though Sam telling Mayank would make him an arrogant, self-satisfied son of a bitch."

G-"I'm rendered speechless."

R-"Oh, no, you don't." shook her head. "At least not until you tell us how it was. You want to use the scale of one to ten, or do a descriptive retrospective?" The laugh escaped before Gunji could stop it.

G-"I don't know why I like the two of you."

R-"Sure you do. Come on, Tell. You're dying to."

G-"It was great, and not just because I was ready to spontaneously combust. I missed being with him. You think you forget what it's like to feel so ' connected to somebody. But you don't. You really don't." Ridz let out a long sigh.

N-"How are you planning to handle it?"

G-"Handle what?"

N-"Are you going to tell him you're in love with him?"

The question brought a little shadow creeping in on the edge of her bright mood.

G-"What's the point of it? He'd either back off or feel guilty about not backing off."

N-"If you're honest with him-"

G-"That was your way. It's the way you needed to deal with what you felt for Mayank. It was right for you, Nups, and for him. But for me ' well, I don't have any expectations of Sam this time around, and I'm willing to take responsibility for my own emotions and the consequences. What I'm not willing to do is put my big, gooshy heart in his hands and force him into making a choice. What we've got right now is good enough for me. For now. We'll worry about tomorrow when it gets here."

R-"Um' I'm not going to disagree with you. Maybe you need to take some time, let things settle or evolve. But more, maybe you're meant to. Maybe it's part of the quest."

G- "My sleeping with Sam is part of the quest? Where the hell does that come in?"

R-"I don't mean the sex, specifically. Though sex is, let's face it, powerful magic."

G-"Yeah, well, maybe the gods sang and the faeries wept. But I'm not buying that doing the wild thing with Sam's going to lead me to the key."

R-"I'm talking about the relationship, the connection, however you want to say it. What was between you, what is between you, what's going to be."

Ridz paused as Gunji lowered the roller, turned with a speculative look on her face.

R-"Isn't that following along with what Rowena said to you about the key?" she continued. "Couldn't it be part of the whole thing?"

Gunji said nothing for a moment, then dredged her roller in paint.

G- "Well, that's another hell of a note. It's got some logic to it, Ridz, but I don't see how it helps. Somehow I don't think I'm going to find the key to the Box of Souls tangled in the sheets the next time Sam and I make love, but it's an interesting angle, which should also be fun to explore."

R-"Maybe it's more something, or some place, that meant something to you, or both of you, before. And now. And later." threw up her hands. "I'm not making sense."

G-"Yeah, you are," corrected as a line formed between her brows. "I can't think of anything right offhand, but I'm going to think harder. Maybe talk to Sam about it. No way to deny he's an integral part of this, so he might as well be useful."

N-"I'm just going to say one thing." squared her shoulders. "Love's not a burden, not to anyone. And if he feels like that then, he's not worthy of you." After a moment's surprise, Gunji set down her roller. She walked over, bent down and kissed Nups's cheek.

G-"You're a sweetheart."

N-"I love you. I love both of you. And anyone who doesn't love you back is a moron."

G-"Jeez, for that you get a hug, too." she gave Nups a squeeze. "Whatever the hell happens, I'm glad I've got the two of you."

R-"This is so nice." stepped over to swing an arm around each of them. "I'm really glad Gunji had sex so we could have this moment."

hey Aastu 🤗
m so glad u updated dear!!!
rlly thanx!!
Dey had "THT"......wow!!!
waiting for more

--Adya!

wow gr8 part atlast you updated

Lovely parts loved it continue soon