The Romance Novel Cure (3 page)

In the morning, I got ready as quickly as I could. I have to be at work by seven thirty, most days, and Ben doesn’t have to be at work until nine or even later, so I almost always have the place to myself first thing in the morning. I worked in the northeast quadrant, in a new, spacious building.  I had stayed up far too late reading last night, and I was paying for it now, as I yawned into my second cup of green tea. How could I resist though? One more page, I kept telling myself, just one more!

Caspian and Valerie had fought side by side in the most thrilling vampyre/ tyger-shifter battle ever. And then, wounded but victorious, they had turned to one another in a grove of willows and…expressed their love… for pages, and pages. I sighed happily.

Then, as I gathered my things for the day, I felt my mood plummet. Positive interactions, I thought, increase the positive interactions. What would Valerie do, I wondered, smiling at the crazy thought. If Caspian was sleeping, and Valerie was heading off to teach a bunch of wild toddlers, maybe Valerie would leave him a love note. I snorted, laughing. But, I put the second breakfast wrap I had made in a container, and grabbed a piece of paper from our grocery list pad. I always made double portions of my breakfasts, lunches and dinners, for Ben. Sometimes he took them, sometimes he didn’t. Our schedules hadn’t been overlapping much at all. I didn’t know what to write. Finally I wrote: caution: hot!!! And I drew a heart. Ben loves hot sauce, and I had liberally doused the wrap with Tapatio.

I woke up when I heard Greta leave. I reached over and took my iPad, thinking I’d read a chapter. Instead, I looked at the author’s page on Amazon. Mireya Santos. Her author photograph showed her backlit by a setting or rising sun, so that her outline and features were completely blurred in the sunbeams. Who could write such inspired, hot scenes, I wondered. Her author bio stated that she considered romance novels her guilty pleasure, both reading and writing them. The only novels she had written were the three Silas and Sera novels, and apparently there was one more coming out soon. Each book had dozens of reviews, with an average of four stars each. I scrolled and saw a one star review:

Meh. I didn’t even get what was going on idk but I couldn’t get into it. I didn’t finish it.

I felt kind of mad on Mireya’s behalf. I’m sure as an experienced novelist, she could take it in stride, but it seemed mean spirited.

I would have never imagined myself reading a romance, but I found myself wondering what was going to happen next. Who was Silas and why did he need to make Sera leave? What was going on? I liked what I had read so far.

Another review caught my eye. It was five stars, and longer than most. The title of it was Silas the Perfect Alpha.

Alpha? Wasn’t that some kind of wolf pack leader?

I Googled romance novel alpha and clicked on an explanation in a blog called
Shut Up Go Away Please I’m Reading
. Alphas, apparently, are a common type of male character, the hero, in romance novels. They can be jerks, but they are also caring, confident, charismatic, skilled, loyal, possessive in a protective way, jealous at the drop of a hat in a flattering/exasperating way, and completely all about the female main character.

I went back to the review about Silas the Perfect Alpha.

Silas is such the perfect alpha because he does not come across as an alph-hole. He is all about being strong enough to put Sera’s needs first. He thinks she is wonderful, just the way she is. All he wants to do is keep her safe. He wants her all the time. He is vulnerable with her, because she’s the only one he lets in. He loves her with a loyalty that most of us never see in our lifetime. He cares about her pleasure. He’s a take charge kind of man, but only because he wants to serve Sera, and keep her safe, and make her happy. He’s bossy, but it’s only because he is protective.

It went on for several more paragraphs, with other writers chiming in at the end, in the comments. At the bottom of the page were some quotes from the Silas novels that readers had highlighted and shared.

* * *

“You tell me,” said Silas, his hand coming to rest on her hip. “Tell me when you’re ready for our first kiss.”

His hand slid under Sera’s shirt and he touched her waist, stepping closer. Sera looked up at Silas, at his dark eyes that looked hot enough to spark flames. His mouth was slightly open, and her eyes could not drag themselves away from his full lips.

“First kiss, in this lifetime,” whispered Silas, one hand tracing a line down her face before coming to rest on her neck.

Sera reached a trembling hand to Silas’s face. She delicately traced his scar, looking into his eyes once before looking back at his mouth. With both hands, she cradled his head, and leaned against him.

“Kiss me,” she said shakily.

With a groan, Silas gently pressed his lips against hers. Sera wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and pulled him even closer. She couldn’t get close enough. Her heart was speeding and she ached for him. She felt the hard length of him, hot and steely against her, and she gasped. Silas held her head firmly as he kissed her again, his tongue filling her mouth, until she sagged against him, lightheaded with desire…

* * *

Quite a kiss, I thought, feeling a little… warm. I thought about kissing Greta. In the last year or so, just quick pecks on the cheek, if anything. I remembered, though. I remembered hot, crazy kisses that lead to more. I took a shaky breath in and out.

Getting Greta back: that would be my mission. Somehow, some way. If she still wanted me. I had to admit, I had started to wonder if she regretted marrying me. She gave up her whole family for me. Without a backward glance, it seemed. But all I could do was try. If I could just be the kind of guy who made her smile again, the way she used to smile at me? How amazing would that be.

All this romance reading and thinking about Greta reading these books had made me want her in a way that I had tried to shut down for so long. My wife is hot. She is little, and curvy, and she has long, light brown hair that never stays in a clip, it’s so fine. Her skin is so fair, it shows every flush or blush. She has light blue eyes that kill me when they look sad. They looked sad a lot lately. But they used to sparkle so much, and she does this thing where she kind of purses her mouth before she smiles and laughs. She wears pajama bottoms around the house a lot, and she has put herself down for doing that, but she looks really cute. And there is this one pair… they hug her hips and she looks so hot in them, it’s crazy. I tried to tell her once, but I guess she thought I was making fun of her, and I couldn’t convince her otherwise. It was before I stopped trying. Everything out of my mouth would make her angry, or worse, her eyes would fill with hurt. Looking back, all I was trying to do was get close to her, to fix things. But I felt like such a jerk. Eventually it became easier to look away from her in those stripy pajama bottoms, and not try to fix things between us.

And now? I think we were afraid to even start a conversation, because it seemed as though every interaction resulted in the stupidest argument. Literally, stupid. Couples should argue about big stuff, but we just bickered. I’d do something stupid, like leave my wet towel on the doorknob, and we’d just be snapping back and forth, with me backing down, saying I was sorry, and her looking hurt. So we slept apart. We avoided each other’s eyes.

I went into the kitchen where there was tea, still warm in the teapot. She always left some for me. I opened the fridge. If she really didn’t even like me anymore, would she still be leaving me tea, and meals? Here’s the thing: yeah. Because Greta is a kind, caring, and just all around decent human being. Then, I saw the note Greta left for me and picked it up, feeling a gigantic, goofy smile take over my face.

Later, I read some more:

* * *

Sera woke up and blinked. Slowly the unfamiliar surroundings filtered into her consciousness and she remembered the entire day and evening, leading up to her arrival last night. She sat up slowly, feeling as though she were forgetting something else, though. Something important. Shivering, she got out of bed and reached into her duffel bag, pulling out a sweater and jeans. She dressed quickly and went into the kitchen. The scene outside the window was one she had never seen where she grew up in Texas. Fog swirled over golden brown reeds. She opened the door and leaned on the frame. The heavy scent of the ocean hung in the air, its dampness permeating the cottage and already causing her hair to curl. She walked outside, looking around, unable to see very far in any direction. Getting a bag of groceries she had left in her car, she hurried back inside, feeling chilled. In the kitchen, she found a battered saucepan and a dusty, chipped mug. She made herself a cup of tea.

Her mind should be full of the tasks at hand, finding some furnishings and learning her way around town. Instead, she could not shake the sensation that she was forgetting something important. She tried to shake it off. After days of driving, a whole new environment, anyone would be feeling off kilter.

She drove to the nearest grocery store, where she bought some cleaning supplies and food. The rest of the day was spent cleaning and arranging her things. She hung curtains, swept, mopped, and scrubbed and dusted.

Finally, she sat in her doorway, drinking another cup of tea listening to the soft, sweet melody of the breeze in the rushes, and the gentle sounds of birds clinging to reeds and flying to their nests for the night. The sky was violet, streaked with orchid and orange. The house at her back gleamed and sparkled, and a small fire snapped energetically in the fireplace.

“Guess I am home. Home for now,” said Sera, turning to go back inside. After a cursory meal, she washed up and fell into bed, utterly exhausted. As she fell asleep, again she had the sensation that she had forgotten something important, something that she was supposed to remember, and act upon. It troubled her. She turned over, unable to stay awake, and drifted swiftly into sleep.

She opened her eyes. Her face was pressed into warm sand, and the sound of the fire crackling was louder. Where was she? Sitting up slowly, she began to dimly remember the cavern from the night before. How could she have forgotten?

“As much as it is always a pleasure to see you again, Sera, I thought I told you to leave.”

Sera gasped, turning. Silas was leaning against the cavern wall, his face half in shadows, his expression grim. She placed a hand on her chest, trying to slow her galloping heart, trying to steady her breath. Angry, she scowled at him.

“First of all, I don’t have to obey you, as though you’re the boss of me. Whoever you are. Second, terrify me much? God! Third… never mind.”

He came over to her and stood, his arms crossed. “Third? Tell me.”

“Again, I don’t have to do what you tell me to,” Sera spoke the words slowly and deliberately, trying to hide how terrified she felt.

He took and even breath in and let it out slowly. He sat on a rock close by, and rubbed his face with his hands, grimacing.

“Please, will you tell me what the third thing was?” He asked, his voice dangerously quiet. Sera swallowed audibly.

“I… I forgot,” she admitted, confused about everything that was going on.

“Forgot… what the third thing was?”

“No. I forgot about this. This place. You. This… dream.”

He cursed and stood up, pacing. Looking up at the skylight, he said something softly in a language Sera had never heard before. Then he sat down again

“Forgot.” His voice was grim.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said furiously, “so don’t blame me!”

His expression softened. “Blame you? Of course not.” His voice was gentle. “This has the dark siders written all over it.”

“You mean… something… someone…? My memory was… what? Tampered with?”

Silas nodded once, his face turned away.

“Well, whatever you need to tell me, we’ll find a way to make me remember it. But what you said about leaving? No way. I just furnished my cottage! I start my new job and all my new research tomorrow!” She was distraught.

He crouched in front of her, his eyes fixed on hers. “You’re not… you’re not crying are you?” He sounded breathless, horrified.

“No,” she scowled, blinking fast. “You are!”

“What?” His hunted expression lightened into a smile.

“Nothing! Just… nothing! I’m not crying, that’s all.”

“I could never handle that well,” he admitted, seemingly to himself.

“What?” Sera was confused.

He shook his head, taking another deep breath in and out.

“Where are we? How did I get here? This has to be a dream, right? But it feels so real.” She looked around. Everything seemed familiar, somehow.

“It’s a shared dream-space I created so that I could warn you to get the hell out of Salem. You’ve been called there. By those that don’t have your best interest at heart. You’re in danger.”

“I don’t understand.” She crossed her arms, regarding him steadily.

* * *

I admit it: As much as I was tempted to skim ahead, wondering when they’d start having the steamy scenes, I was into the whole story by this point.