Necromancy in the Fifth - Chapter 5 Sneak Peek

It's been quite awhile since I've updated this story, but I'm trying to make my muse play nice with me while the world is going to hell. Hopefully, this will allow me to start getting updates out for my stories again.

So, without further ado, a brief teaser of Chapter 5:

I wasn't sure how long I was unconscious before the sound of knocking on my door woke me. Groaning, I slowly got up off the floor.

“I'm coming,” I shouted, or at least tried to, as my voice came out more like a hoarse croak.

It took me close to a minute to make it the few feet that it was to my door. I fussed with the lock as my fingers didn't seem to want to work, before finally managing to successfully open it.

I opened my mouth upon seeing Rosalie on the other side, but she gasped.

“Bella, what the hell happened to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“There's dried blood on your face.”

I frowned before spinning around and heading to my bathroom. My reflection in the mirror looked nothing like me. Instead, the wide eyes that stared at the stained splotches of brownish-red splattered across my cheeks, lips, chin, and down my neck were horrified. The reflection also showed skin that was at least two shades too white, rings under the eyes, and unnatural sallowness to the cheeks.

For a moment, I couldn't make sense of what I was looking at. Then I grabbed a rag, turned the sink on, and soaked it. The instant it was solidly drenched, I started scrubbing on my face, forcing a redness into my skin even as I washed off the stains of blood.

Forever Protector Final Teaser - A Rebirth and Affliction Alternate Reality

Back a while ago, I started working on this particular Alternate Reality, but things happened (my flash drive broke) and the end result was that I lost almost all of it, except for the two teasers I'd posted on this blog a while ago (you can use the tag, Teaser, or the tag, Alternate Reality, if you want to view those). I've finally started reworking it, and while I'm not sure it's identical to what it was originally, I'm happy with what I've written.

For now, I'm offering one final Teaser to this Alternate Reality.

"Anyway, I need to go talk to the Cullens in person. I owe it to them to explain my decision in person.”

“You owe them nothing.” Jules' scowl was pronounced. “They were the ones who screwed you over.”

“Yes, I do. They gave up a lot for what they thought of me to be to Edythe. The fact that it turned out to be untrue is unimportant. Don't worry, I'll be back.”

I got up from where I was sitting in the sand next to her and sped off.

The run through the forest was one I'd made many times before, back when the Cullens had abandoned me. However, I couldn't help but wonder if this would be my last time making the trip.

Edythe met me outside of the house, her voice solemn. “Archie's told me your future is solidly black – that nothing I can say or do, as far as he can see, will change that.”

“They need me here, and it turns out that when I put my mind into being a protector with them that I'm quite good at it. Besides, we both know your family doesn't need me.”

“That's not true. I need you. I'll always need you.”

I smiled, wondering if she heard the rough edge in her voice which read as untrue to me. “Maybe some part of you still needs the human boy you started to fall for before I was turned, but I think it's past time we both accept that I'm not him. I've changed in a lot more ways than just going from having a beating heart to not.”

“When you left, you promised you'd someday come back, Beau.”

“I did.” I walked away from her, looking out into the forest. “It wasn't a lie. I had every intention of coming back to you. But I think we both know why I can't. When we were with the Denalis, you and Taavi were a thousands times more comfortable – more natural – together than you and I ever were. Honestly, there was more familiarity with you and Ivan, and you and Kirill, than ever with me. And most recently, I saw you briefly with a redhead here.”

“I've known all of the Denalis for more than seventy years, Beau. Of course, there's a familiarity with them. Even Magnus, I've known for more than sixty.”

It put a name with the man I'd seen. I ignored the implication that was being insecure and foolish. I knew what I'd seen, and I'd had plenty of time to think it over.

“I want you to be happy, Edythe, and I don't think I'm ever going to be what gives that to you.”

“You're wrong!”

It would be beyond easy to believe her, but I could see the dangerous loop that would lead to. I knew now, no matter how much I loved her, she clearly didn't feel the same. “I've got to get back to La Push.”

“Beau... if you change your mind, please come back to me.”

In spite of myself, I muttered, “Who knows, maybe someday.”

Then I ran away.

Life and Death Continuation Banner

As everyone knows, I almost always make my own banners for my stories. They may not be the best in the world, but it's just part of my process. However, a few days ago, I commissioned a banner for my Life and Death Continuation as whole. One that used specific people, which tends to be a bit beyond my capabilities. 

Today, I got the finished piece that was made by Bee Masen for this. 

The people I chose for characters are Devery Jacobs as Julie Black, Luke Bilyk as Beaufort Swan, and Katherine McNamara as Edythe Cullen

A Bit About a Future Piece

Introducing a Twilight/Elfquest crossover. The Moon's Journey will be, for the time in question, a one-shot. I don't know how long this one-shot will be, though I'm assuming it will be over ten thousand words. The banner above feature Bella as an elf – specifically a wolfrider  – and her wolf, Clearwater. Though I may slip in a couple of other Twilight characters, the vast majority of the characters I will pull from will be the wolfriders in Elfquest. 

This story is inspired, in part, because it's a crossover that hasn't been done, and because I need a bit of a different ending after the bittersweet end to The Final Quest in Elfquest. Those that have read the comics will know exactly what I mean. 

__________________________________________

I don't know exactly when this story will be posted as I'm working on it between my continued work on Rebirth and Affliction: Eclipse Reimagined and it's extras, Necromancy in the Fifth, and my current drabble, We Saw the World End on a Tuesday. (Other works are on hold until inspiration strikes to work on them)

The Shade - The Opening

Back a few months ago I submitted several pieces to The Babies at the Border, one was the completed Future-Takes for The Emotional Roller Coaster of Life (these are now posted on FFN, Stars, and Ao3). The second was the first chapter of A Different Kind of Tomato which I'm still determining how the entire story will play out (I posted the first chapter a few minutes ago on here). And the third is the opening scene of an original fiction I'm working on called The Shade. 

 My intention is to complete The Shade before I start posting it regularly wherever I end up deciding to post it. I have about four chapters wrote at the moment, and it's my assumption that it'll be about thirty or so chapters in all. Once I'm ready to post the completed story, I'm not, as of yet, sure where I'll post it. For now, here's the opening.

Summary:
Three hundred years after the end of World War III and the remnants of humanity are run by The Shade, except for a select few who fight against such oppression. But when the rebellion is captured, is all lost? Or will there still be hope? Is there a chance at love in the midst of such darkness? Or just blind hatred and rage?

Beta'd by monica03

The Shade

Opening

It's been three hundred years since World War III. The remnants of that humanity; of vehicles, electricity, computers, and so much more can be found all around, but the world I know doesn't actually have use of any of that technology.

Three hundred years ago, when World War III ended; after the atomic bombs, mustard gas, and weaponized diseases, there was a matter of a few thousand people left alive.

Over the course of the last three hundred years, the numbers have slowly raised into the hundreds of thousands, mostly thanks to The Shade.

As a child, I grew up in fear of The Shade, the ruling faction that controls not only the government, but the military, education, and even religion. They are what allows the civilized world to exist in peace.

I grew up outside of the civilized world though, and I'm not the only one. My family is a part of a faction of people that don't believe in The Shade's rule. We're the rebellion.

Or at least we were.

I close my eyes and clench my hands into fists – so tight that I'm sure I'll draw blood – as the rough sponge rubs over my skin. It feels almost like small shards of steel against my flesh, though I know it isn't. It's all in my head.

“A lady doesn't clench her fists.”

Then again, the man washing my naked body might be part of why it feels like it's rough steel against my skin. Aside from my father, who'd brought me into this world – and by that I mean he pulled me from my mom's womb after she'd been slain by The Shade – this man is the first person to ever see me disrobed.

Aluxif.

Actually, his full name is Aluxif St. Claude Jon Bonaparte de Nevogne the Seventh of The Fifth Order.

Far too much of a mouthful. If anyone asks, I'll claim I can't remember it all, though that's a lie. It's impossible for me to forget the name of the man that grooms for a role that I do not want.

I release my breath as I allow my hands to go slack.

I wish I could go back in time. Just six months. Then I'd be able to warn my family, my friends, and everyone I've ever loved... I'd be able to prevent it from happening.

But there's no going back.

He runs the sponge down my back, and I force myself to repress a shudder. The warm blueish-white liquid is supposed to feel good, at least according to Aluxif, but it doesn't. The creamy substance feels unnatural and cold – even though the temperature is actually quite warm.

When I was a child, I remember my dad reading a story to me about some epic fantasy where the woman bathed in buttermilk. At the time I hadn't known what buttermilk was so I'd asked him, and he explained it was the leftover liquid when someone churned butter.

I still don't understand why anyone would bathe in it.

I also can't help but wonder if this is what I'm in now.

If it is, I certainly don't understand the appeal. Of course, I may like it more if I'd been allowed to bathe by myself.

I'm not.

In fact, I'm not even allowed to pick up the utensils to eat.

Aluxif prevents me from having any chance of any form of escape.

I suppose I can't honestly blame him. Though if he truly understood why I was here, what I'd been threatened with, he'd know I'd never take the risk.

Of course, I know if my father knew what I've agreed to, he would disagree with my decision. But my father is dead.

Besides, if by offering up all that I am, I can save my people – imprisoned though they may be – then it is worth it. They'll escape with enough time, I'm sure of it.

His hand reaches around the front of me with the sponge and brushes over the top of my breasts. The steel shards of the sponge run smoothly over my skin, not pressing as hard as he'd been on my back.

My body reacts, nipples pebbling slightly, but I shudder in disgust – though I'm not sure if it's because of him touching me there or if it has more to do with my hatred of my own reaction.

“You must be clean for tonight,” Aluxif says, his voice gentle.

“I can wash myself!” I snap, though, in truth, I'm not as sure of that as I'd like to admit – taking baths wasn't a high priority in the rebellion, not in comparison to fighting for our rights to live and be free.

“And risk you drowning yourself? No. You can have me bathe you, or The Sisters of Aura. It's up to you.”

I shudder in genuine horror. I don't like Aluxif as he makes me uncomfortable, but at least he seems human. The Sisters of Aura, on the other hand, are freaky. They all dress in solid black, are extremely pale, and seem almost inhuman. I'd been forced to learn all of their names, and they are; Maya, Mya, Miya, Meya, Mayah, Myah, Maiya, Miah, Mia, Maia, Mija, and Maeja. The fact that they all have the same name only makes them all the more disturbing – okay, so they don't really have the same name, it just all sounds the same.

“No, I'd rather it be you than any of them.”

“Which is why I'm here. It isn't typically a role of a member of The Fifth Order to take care of women.”

“I know,” I mutter, feeling a strong desire to sink beneath the surface of the bluish-white liquid.

“None of that. A lady must not talk back, and must speak clearly when spoken to.”

I sigh but don't say anything else.

The sponge rubs along the undersides of my breasts before running the sponge lower, using firmer pressure once again.

“And what is it that I normally do?” he asks as he moves slightly on his knees so that he's beside me instead of behind me.

“The Fifth Order is tasked with schooling kids, specifically young girls, in the way of The Shade, so they know their proper place,” I say the explanation from memory. It was something I'd learned even before my people were captured – my father had made sure we all knew the obscenities we were fighting against.

“And why are we allowed such a precious task?”

“Because all of you in The Fifth Order are castrated.” Unlike the rest, I'd only learned that tidbit after coming here.

He continues to scrub me clean, going further down my body. I force my legs tighter together. I'm not about to let him touch me down there, even if it is with a sponge.

“Just because you can't get someone pregnant doesn't mean you don't still get off on certain things.” I regret the words almost as soon as I say them, but there's only so much degradation I can take before I start to lose it.

The resounding smack of flesh hitting flesh reaches my ears before I feel the burning pain on my cheek. It isn't the first time he's smacked me, but I'm still surprised – because tonight I'm supposed to swear my allegiance to The Shade.

“Impertinence does not become a lady.” His voice is cold. “And I do not like what you are implying. Teaching children is an honor and a sacred duty, none of us in our order would take advantage of that honor.”

The sponge rubs over the top of my legs, trying to access the crevice between my legs, but I keep my legs tightly pressed together.

“You will either spread your legs of your own accord, so I can wash that part of you or I will be forced to call The Sisters of Aura. You will not like it if they hold your legs apart and forcefully wash you. I am being gentle as I understand that you are not used to our ways. They simply won't care.”

I swallow, the taste of vomit in the back of my throat at the visual his words force upon me but proceed to open my legs for him. It's not the idea of them being rough that scares me, as illicit touch is illicit touch, no matter who it's by, but the idea of them touching me, period, terrifies me.

He runs the sponge over the lines of my womanhood, and the feeling of the stiff sponge is both painful and pleasant at the same time. I spasm slightly.

“Be calm, you are not –”

I break the cardinal rule by speaking over him, “I know, it's not my place to take pleasure from a man's touch.”

His eyes narrow. “How do you know that rule? I have not taught you that. It will be your master's job to teach you some such things.”

“Do you honestly think the rebellion doesn't know why we fight?” I look him in the eyes, refusing to be servile the way I'm supposed to be. “We wish for freedom from The Shade's egregious laws. We want the right to choose our own paths. I am not a cow. I deserve better than to be nothing more than some breeder of cattle.” I spit the last word.

“If everyone believed as your rebellion does, then we would have died out almost three hundred years ago. The Shade protects our future. Surely you must understand that.”

“We are not only four thousand, anymore.” I half expect him to smack me again, but he doesn't.

“And the only reason we aren't is because all of them understand their place. If there was another war like the one that decimated humanity in the first place, then there won't be a second chance.”

“Your assumption is that a life of slavery is better than death. I disagree.”

“And yet you asked to join The Shade when your death was about to occur. I think you protest too much.”

“I didn't agree to be part of The Shade because I was afraid to die. I did it to protect my people. If they had seen me executed, they would have fought and died. The little prison my people have been forced into is not large enough, or open enough, for any of mine to have escaped at that time. My sacrifice of joining The Shade allows them to live to fight another day.”

“And how do you know we didn't destroy your people the instant we took you from that prison?” He moves on to washing my legs.

“Because if that had been done, The Sisters of Aura and you wouldn't be so careful with me. It wouldn't truly matter if I managed to kill myself. You need me.”

“What if I told you that you simply were a trophy and that's the only reason we've been ordered to keep you alive.”

“I'd call you a liar. If there is one thing that The First Order is good for, it is for their ruthless practicality. If only you were watching me, I might believe it, but The Sisters of Aura wouldn't be wasted here.”

“You are correct.” He stands up after finishing my feet and offers his hand. “Come on. We must finish getting you ready for Typhor.”

I take his hand, as I know it's expected of me, and proceed to stand with his help.

As soon as I'm out of the tub of liquid, he dries me off with a towel before wrapping it around me, then proceeds to brush my hair out into a smooth luster.

Once he's done, he leads me back to my bedroom... bedroom, in this case, being a polite word for prison, as the only thing in the room is a bed that is attached to a frame, which is permanently affixed to the floor. There is no pillow, no sheets, no window, and the only door into the room locks from the outside.

Today, my bedroom has a couple of new items; a dress is laid out on my bed, and a pair of lace-up sandals are on the floor – I think they were once called gladiator sandals.

“It goes against everything I should do, but as long as you don't try anything, I will allow you to dress yourself. You may as well enjoy this last bit of freedom.” His words are strangely dispassionate, but when I glance at his face, the same can't be said of his eyes.

I quickly take advantage of his offer, stepping over to the bed and pulling the towel off. Part of me wishes he would at least turn his back, but I know he won't.

It takes me a second, as I look at the dress, to figure out how it is worn, before opening it up as I pull it from the bed. I put it on in the same way my father used to put on shirts that tied shut; slipping my right arm through one strap, pulling the material around my back, and placing my left arm through the other strap. Finally, I pull the dress together, the wrap – I remember reading stories featuring dresses called that, but it's my first time ever seeing one – and tying it shut around the waist with the ribbon provided. I use the single pull through loop at the top to secure that area, so it doesn't fall open.

The material only just closes around my body with the smallest amount of overlay, and I know, when I walk it's going to expose far more of me than I've ever allowed to have exposed... I know it's been done this way on purpose.

It's a reminder of what I am.

Nothing more than a human broodmare.

The dress is also low enough cut that the tops of my breasts are exposed.

My tongue wets my lips before I move forward and sit on the bed, pulling over the sandals so I can put them on and lace them up – the leather binding going up to just below my knees.

Once I'm done, I look up at Aluxif.

Even though I despise him, despise everything he's a part of and stands for, I've come to rely on him in these last weeks. He is not... cruel. And I know he could be.

It's not the first time I've worried about who I'm going to be traded to.

But now, more than ever, that worry is present at the forefront of my mind.

“Do you know who I'm going to be given to, Aluxif? Who I'm the prize for?”

“It would spoil the surprise if I was to tell you that. Come along now, it's time to take you to meet Typhor.”

I swallow thickly but proceed to stand up, walking over to him and taking his hand.

The walk from my bedroom through the halls of the alcazar and out to the streets of The Shade's stronghold – the city of Lanassence – amps up my anxiety with every step.

I don't want to do this.

I can't do this.

I was raised with too much pride to be reduced to nothing more than some shadewhore.

I yank, trying to pull my hand from Aluxif's grip as soon as we're on the streets. If I can make a run for it, then maybe, just maybe, I can escape.

But his grip is too tight.

“Don't.” He turns his head just enough to look at me. “You must go through with this. If you successfully get away from me, you will be captured. I assure you, the guards of this city will take you alive. And you will not like what happens if that happens. Not even counting what will happen to your people – they have only been allowed to live based on your willingness to join us – you will be killed, but not before you are raped, tortured, mentally assaulted, and more. You will beg for death months before it will be allowed.”

With the reminder of why I agreed to this originally, my shoulders slump slightly. “Okay.”

The rest of the walk through the city is quiet, at least for Aluxif and me, though I can feel eyes on me.

However, my glances around find no one.

When we reach the plateau beneath the citadel, I swallow. The stage on the plateau is already set up with an altar. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people – mostly men, though there are some women – stand around the stage, all of their eyes are on the man on stage.

I've never seen him before, this man with smoky gray eyes, firm body, black hair, and a sculpted face. I don't need the laurel crown upon his head to tell me he is Typhor, ruler of The Shade.

No, it's the fact that all of the crowd is giving him their riveted and sole attention.

And if it weren't for the fact that I hate him instantly, I might actually think him to be handsome.

Aluxif lets go of my hand. “You must go up there of your own accord, I cannot take you farther.”

I can't help but wonder if he means it literally. There were myths of sorcery that trickled even down to the members of the rebellion, but I've never believed in such travesties.

It wasn't magic that destroyed the world. It was war. Brought on by greed, by hatred, by fear. And though, in our modern times, things like hydrogen and atomic bombs may seem magical, they really aren't.

Realizing I'm stalling by letting my mind wander, I climb the steps.

The instant I step onto the stage, the man, Typhor, looks toward me briefly before glancing back towards his captive audience.

“And here is the princess of the insurgents now. Ready to bow her head and willingly serve the greater good, advocating for peace.”

I can feel the eyes as the audience looks my way. Their looks all feel like little pinpricks on my skins, but especially the completely inappropriate looks which trace the line of skin – leg and crotch – that flashes as I walk.

I walk over to the altar, realizing only as I close on it that it is a permanent part of the stage, literally carved from the same piece of stone. The altar has a large bowl made of a shiny silver metal and a knife that has a kris blade on it.

Looking briefly into the bowl, I see the stains of dried blood from people before me who have made this same oath, and I swallow convulsively before I drop to my knees the way I'm supposed to.

Typhor steps up to the other side of the altar. “Speak your oath to me, speak it clearly for the people below, as your word, your blood, and your name are your bindings to our law.”

The words have more weight than they should, and I wonder yet again if sorcery is real, then I mentally shake off the idea. It's just nerves.

“I, Nevoux Gentrix, daughter of Sederico Gentrix and Qayla Leveneau Moonsea of The Second Order –” there are gasps from some of the audience, only a few knew my mother wasn't just another member of the rebellion, but was actually a betrayer of The Shade. Not even many of my family and friends had known “– and former member of the rebellion, solemnly swear to join The Shade and uphold all its laws under the light of the holy trinity of Drekavac, Culsu, and Barbatos – the supreme beings. And under the rule of The First Order, the force of The Second Order, the faith of The Third Order, the tutelage of The Fifth Order and The Sixth Order, the trust of The Seventh Order, the wisdom of The Eighth Order, the will of The Sisters of Aura, and the philosophy of The Brothers of Dharma. And I swear to obey Typhor as ruler, as well as any man who is above me.” I bow my head as I finish, only just realizing the literal double entendre of the final statement that I've been practicing for weeks.

“Rise, Nevoux, and swear in blood, as you have in word.” Typhor's words demand obedience as I stand up.

I pick up the knife and hold the blade over my forearm briefly as I stare into Typhor's eyes before cutting cleanly into the skin, and allowing the blood to flow into the bowl.

I know the final part of the ritual is to strip me of my own self-worth, to take the name of whoever my master will be, but I still haven't been told who it is.

“Who am I being given to?” I practically whisper the words as I don't want them to carry to the crowd. My pride has been run through enough of the mud without admitting ignorance to the obvious.

“Come again?” Typhor asks, somewhat startled, but his voice is soft too.

I look down mumbling, “You know, who is going to be my master?”

I glance up in time to see his eyes flicker to the side of the stage. Somehow I know, I just know, that he's looking at Aluxif. After a moment, he quietly replies, “There really aren't many who have the capability to handle someone as untrained and untouched as you. So I've decided to keep you close. Which is to say, you will be mine.”

My eyes widen briefly before I look down, finishing my oath, “I am Nevoux, slave of Typhor of The First Order, ruler of The Shade.”

To me, it's like a weight is pressing on my shoulders, and I know now – know for sure – my life is over.

There will be no chance of escape for me.

A Different Kind of Tomato - Part 1 - Chapter 1

Back a few months ago I submitted several pieces to The Babies at the Border, one was the completed Future-Takes for The Emotional Roller Coaster of Life (these are now posted on FFN, Stars, and Ao3). The second was an opening scene to an original fiction called The Shade which I'm slowly working on completing (I will post the opening scene on the blog next). And the third was the first chapter of A Different Kind of Tomato. 

A Different Kind of Tomato is an extended story that starts a decade before the events that were in the one-shot, Poe-Tay-Toe/Poe-Tah-Toe. I'm not very far in A Different Kind of Tomato, but at this point am thinking about keeping it as blog only fic once I've got enough written to feel comfortable posting it regularly. For now, I'm posting the first chapter here on my blog. Further chapters won't be posting in awhile. 

Summary:
For Bella, life was never easy, and moving to California to chase the dream proves no less difficult. Especially when she falls for, not one man, but two. People always claim love conquers all, but Bella isn't sure she believes it. An extension of Poe-Tay-Toe/Poe-Tah-Toe.

Beta'd by monica03

A Different Kind of Tomato

Part 1

Chapter I

The tearful goodbyes to my dad, Charlie, and my first serious boyfriend, Jacob, had made the first few hours of driving almost impossible. But I was done crying a long time before I made it to Los Angeles.

It wasn't my first time in California, I'd lived there for about six months when I'd been a little over two with my mom, Renee, and my grandma, Marie. But when mom had my baby sis, Alice, we'd moved on. I honestly couldn't remember anything about that time, though I had a vague memory of a heavy wood table. Whether that had been at my grandma's house, or somewhere else, I wasn't certain.

I was chasing the typical American dream – the one that hundreds, if not thousands, of women and men went to L.A. every year to chase... chasing the dream of becoming an actor.

I was lucky, in one sense at least, because my big bro had offered me a place to stay.

Though, the idea of moving in with someone who I hadn't seen since before I was two was more than a little daunting... Though, it was hardly the first time I'd done it – in fact, it had only been ten short months since I moved in with dad.

My dad had been more than a little disappointed when I'd declared that I was heading to California to try and get a career in acting.

But he didn't get it.

Mom, Alice, and I had lived the vast majority of my childhood by staying in cheap motels, crappy apartments, and more than one halfway house. The reality was that one of the only things I'd ever been able to latch onto was the TV – with all the different actors playing numerous roles.

I tried to follow the directions to the address my brother had given me but missed the correct turn on three different occasions. When I finally pulled up in the drive of his house – as he'd instructed me to do – I was pissed and ready to start a fight for no other reason than I could.

After getting out of my truck, I grabbed one of my bags from the bed and headed to the front door, ringing the doorbell.

It took almost a good minute for the door to open. The man standing on the other side of the door was tall enough that I had to tip my head up slightly to see his face. The face told me it was my big bro, but even though I'd seen dozens of pictures of him at my dad's house, it was the first time I'd ever seen him in person.

He was far more massive than I'd expected him to be.

And if it weren't for the curly brown hair and chocolate eyes, I'd totally wonder if my mom had been having an affair on the side. But the hair and eyes were all Charlie.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder exactly what recessive genes he'd gotten to give him his stature. He was at least six and a half feet tall, and my width could be fit between his shoulders two times over.

“Emmett?” I made his name a question.

We'd spoken over the phone enough that I wondered if he might recognize my voice, though I couldn't be certain that he would.

He reached out and hugged me suddenly, picking me up as he did so. “Hey, sis!”

It was like being constricted by a boa.

“Can't... Breathe.” I wheezed out.

He put me back on my feet before reaching back and scratching the back of his head. “Sorry about that, my girlfriend always reminds me that I don't know my own strength.”

“Girlfriend?”

“You'll meet her soon enough, she comes by at least a couple times a week... Claims I'd live on take-out and pizzas if she didn't cook for me from time to time. Her name's Heidi. Here, let me help get your bags.”

He and I managed to shuffle around each other as I entered the house with the bag I was carrying, and he went to my truck.

I didn't get very far though because the instant I walked through the foyer, down the hall, and into his living room, I stopped cold – my jaw dropping as I stared.

The sectional couch was made of a cream-colored leather that appeared to be butter soft – the type of leather that costs a fortune – the coffee table, end tables, bookshelves, and TV stand were all made of ebony, and there was a two-story wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling window... Not to mention the sixty-inch television. But none of that was what had me staring.

No, it was the nude still on one wall. I couldn't think of the actress's name, but I knew I recognized her. Albeit, I didn't think I'd ever seen that much of her.

Emmett came into the living room, carrying my remaining four bags. His eyes tracked to where I was staring. “Oh, I... uh... probably should have warned you about that.”

I turned enough to arch an eyebrow at him. “And your girlfriend knows about this?”

He blushed. “She's the one that gave it to me.”

I blinked.

…

He led me to the bedroom that he told me was mine for as long as I needed it, and I spent the next couple of hours organizing the stuff I brought with me.

I still wasn't a hundred percent certain what to make of my big brother. It was clear, on one level, anyway, that he wanted to be a part of my life. But Emmett was approximately six years older than me – old enough that he probably remembered me as a baby.

I knew he'd been in my life until mom had run off with me when I was two, but I couldn't remember it. If it hadn't been for the fact that I'd spent my senior year with my dad – having put my foot down with my mom the day I turned eighteen – I wouldn't have even known what my brother looked like or what his voice sounded like.

I'd managed to settle into a relatively comfortable relationship with my dad within days of moving in with him, but Charlie was like me. He was quiet, extremely self-controlled, and a workaholic.

And it was abundantly clear that Emmett had far more of Renee's attitude... yet, he was more stable than mom had ever been.

I finally finished putting my belongings away before sighing and going to the balustrade overlooking the living room, but he wasn't there.

I frowned slightly, heading down the stairs to see if I could figure out where he went.

There was a back hall which I followed, finding several closed doors – at least one I was sure was the kitchen. Part of me wanted to peak in each room, but the glass door at the end of the hall caught my eye before I started exploring.

When I reached the glass door, I realized it was a pool room.

I carefully opened the door and stepped inside just as Emmett surfaced.

My eyes widened momentarily before I spun to face the wall, my cheeks burning.

It wasn't my first time seeing a naked guy, not even close, but it was different seeing my brother – even if I didn't know him well yet – than seeing Jake or the gang. There were certain things I simply didn't want to see when it came to my brother.

“Why are you staring at the wall?”

I blushed even harder. “You're naked,” I mumbled.

“Am not.”

“I know a guy's ass when I see one.”

“So I'm wearing a thong, still not naked.”

Part of me was tempted to verify, but I still didn't turn around. “And I'm still not going to look.”

“Whatever.”

We were both silent for a minute before he finally said, “Hey, I found a job for you while you start trying to find a role as an actress. If you're interested, that is.”

“What kind of job?”

“The kind that will allow you to get some spending money. It probably won't equal out to much, but you'll need some money to buy in-season clothes and that kind of crap. It's pretty much a must-have for people who want to go into acting.”

“And how do you know that? You're not an aspiring actor.” It felt ridiculous to continue talking to the wall, but I refused to get another look at his derriere.

“No, I'm not. But I've met my share of aspiring actors since moving out here.”

“Okay, so what type of place is willing to hire me without even meeting me?”

“There's a little diner about two miles from here that needs a new waitress. The owner and I are friends. He said he'd give the job to you if you want it.”

I frowned slightly because I wasn't a hundred percent certain that I had the hand/feet coordination to succeed as a waitress, but finally nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

…

I'd been working at the diner for almost a week and had yet to meet Emmett's friend. I'd been hired on by the cook – a robust Irish woman who went by Siobhan, pronounced as it was spelled... at least according to her.

The owner, on the other hand, was strangely allusive. Siobhan assured me that he helped out regularly, oftentimes waiting, or cooking, or even cleaning, but I'd yet to see it.

Though, I supposed it was for the best as just the thought of meeting the boss-man made me feel like I was going to drop something.

In truth, waiting tables wasn't something I was all that good at, but I did need the money.

I stepped up to a family of four sitting in one of the booths.

“My name is Bella, and I'll be your waitress today. May I take your order?” I said cheerfully.

I started writing down their requests on the order pad when I happened to hear the door to the kitchen open. Instinct had me wanting to look and see who it was right away, but I forced myself to finish jotting down the rest of my order.

Once I was done, I turned, and my breath caught in my chest. A man I'd never seen before was at the cash register with an apron around his waist. He had spiky brown hair, a five o'clock shadow, gray-blue eyes, and a lean and tall body. He wasn't the most handsome man, at least not in the traditional sense, but he was still hot.

If I'd found him in a pool, mostly naked, I wouldn't have looked away. Part of me wanted to lick him like a lollipop.

I blushed and looked down, rushing over to give the order to the cook before spinning to hide in the bathroom while I calmed myself, but tripped and did a header right into the man in question, instead.