“Yes?”
What? Of course it’s a yes. “Yes . . .”
He thrust into me, fluid and deep. Pleasure exploded in me and I moaned his name. He built to a smooth, rapid rhythm, sliding inside me, thick and hard, each thrust a burst of ecstasy. I locked my fingers on his back and matched his rhythm. We were one and I was losing myself in the sheer physical bliss of it. He made love to me like I was a goddess. I tried to hold on and stay there with him, but the pleasure crested inside me and dragged me under. I melted into a soft, happy climax. Jim moved faster inside me, pounding, intense, his whole body so rigid, the muscles of his back were trembling under my fingers. His face turned feral. He grunted and I felt him let go inside of me. I wrapped my arms around his neck.
For a while we stayed just like that and then slowly he slid his big body to the side and pulled me to him.
“Mine.”
I blinked at him. “What?”
“You’re all mine.” He grabbed and hoisted me onto him. “Mine, mine, mine.”
I laughed and sprawled on top of him.
JIM was a cat. And like all cats, he liked soft places, sleeping, and lying around. We hadn’t left the bedroom. We napped, we cuddled, we had sex again and it was glorious. And now we just lay together enjoying each other’s company. We were both starving but going downstairs was just too much effort. Outside the sun slowly set. The world was growing dark.
“About the barbecue,” I said. “Should I bring something?”
“No, they’ve got it under control.” He was playing with my hair. “I called and told them you would be coming for sure. You’ll have to cut them some slack. They’ve never dealt with anyone like you.”
“Anyone like me? Indonesian?” They probably didn’t expect him to bring home someone like me. What if they didn’t like me?
“No,” he said. “Vegetarian.”
I stared at him for moment.
“It’s a barbecue,” he said. “We’re werecats. Everything is either meat or has meat in it. I explained to them about stuff not touching. They bought a new grill for you, but they can’t figure out what to grill on it . . .”
I snorted and laughed.
He grinned back at me. My handsome, smart Jim.
“Just a fair warning: you might end up having corn seasoned in three different ways . . .”
I giggled.
“They’re excited,” he told me. “You’ll have to answer questions. If it gets too much, tell me and I will snarl and make an ass of myself.”
“Diversion tactics!”
“That’s right. Anything for my beautiful girl.”
He said I was beautiful. I smiled.
“I called in a request to the Pack,” Jim said. “Let’s see if they can dig up anything on that law firm.”
The doorbell rang. Who could that be? I slid off the bed and glanced out of the window. My mother, my aunt, Komang, and her daughter stood on my doorstep. Oh no.
“My family is here,” I hissed. “Do not make noise.”
He laughed at me.
“Jim! I’ll strangle you.”
“Okay, okay.”
I ran into the bathroom to clean up, threw on fresh clothes, and ran down the stairs.
Oh no, the stupid steak again. I dashed into the kitchen, grabbed the cutting board with the steak, and whirled around. Where to put it? Not the cabinet, Mom would find it. Not in the fridge either, it would contaminate all my groceries . . .
I jerked the wooden cover off the oversize bread basket, stuck the cutting board and the steak in there, pulled it closed, and raced for the door.
My mother raised her hands. “Again?”
“I was sleeping.”
“I thought you were chasing after that stray cat you adopted.” She walked inside and the other three women followed her.
“You got a cat?” my aunt asked.
“It’s a stray,” my mother said. “She adopted him.”
I sighed, shut the door, and followed them into the kitchen. We sat at the table.
“About that boyfriend . . .” my mother said.
“There is no boyfriend,” I said. “It’s someone from the Pack. He was helping me and he was just being funny. He’s a practical joker.”
Komang opened her mouth. Aulia made big eyes at her and Komang closed her lips and sat back.
“Anyway, I found out about jenglots.” I explained about the cursing and the property. “This magic user is very dangerous and powerful. It’s one thing to summon a mythological horror like a hag. But this person also summoned a living killer car. People believe in old hag syndrome, but most of us would instantly dismiss a killer car as complete nonsense. He or she doesn’t require a mythological basis for their summonings. So if someone was afraid of ghosts, this person would conjure a murderous ghost for them even though ghosts do not exist.”
“So this person will try to kill grandmother again?” Aulia asked.
“I believe so,” I said. “But he or she will come after the comic book guys, the courier shop owner, or me first. This person is clearly targeting everyone in the building and I’ve made them very angry. They must’ve sacrificed something personal and now that sacrifice is wasted because of me. They may want to get me out of the way.”
My mother frowned. “What is so special about that property?”
“I don’t know. I’m checking into it. It is likely that . . .”
Jim walked into the kitchen. He was wearing a white towel around his hips and nothing else. His skin glistened with dampness—he had obviously just taken a shower.
I stared at him in horror.
He nodded to my aunt, my mother, and the two other women. “Ladies.”
Then he walked to my silverware drawer, got a fork, took a plate out of my cabinet, walked to the breadbox, speared the steak with his fork, put it on the plate, turned around and walked out.
This did not just happen. It did not happen.
Aulia looked at me with eyes as big as dessert plates and mouthed, “Wow.”
All four of them stared at me.
I had to say something. I opened my mouth. “As I was saying, I think the next two targets would be the comic book store guys and the courier shop owner. Their curses are likely already in place. Then me, because I made this person really angry. So Eyang Ida is safe for the time being.”
“That’s good to hear,” Komang said. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. We will be going now.”
She got up. Aulia jumped up as well.
“I am going, too,” my aunt said, her voice too high.
I followed them to the door. Aulia was the last one through it. She turned around, pointed up, pretended to flex, gave me a thumbs-up, and fled. I took a deep breath, walked into the kitchen, and sat down.
“I knew,” my mother said.
What? “Since when?”
“He came to see me after you saved him from the spider woman.”
How did I not know this?
“He said he wanted to date you and he understood if I had a problem with it because he wasn’t Indonesian, but that it wouldn’t stop him. I told him that you were special and if he wanted to try and win you, he could knock himself out. I told him that prettier men tried and failed.”
“What did he say?”
“He said that was fine and you were beautiful enough for both you and him. And that’s when I knew.” My mother smiled. “True beauty isn’t in how big your breasts are, or how large your eyes are, or how pretty your nose is. All that is temporary. Breasts sag, skin gets wrinkles, waists become wider, and strong backs stoop. I tried to teach you this when you were younger, but I must’ve done a bad job, because you never learned it. True beauty is in how that person makes you feel. When a man truly loves you, the longer you are together, the more beautiful you will be to him. When he looks at you and you look at him, you won’t just see the surface. You will see everything you shared, everything you’ve been through, and every happy moment you hope for.”
Her eyes teared. “Your father died a middle-aged man, balding, with a round belly and when I looked at him, he was more beautiful to me than when we first met and he was twenty and all the girls panted after him.” Her voice trembled. “After thirty-two years, we were more than lovers. We were family.”