Taking The Night (Nightshade series Book 1)

by J F Posthumus

  Small twigs crunched under barely-there feet that belonged to a raccoon waddling through the forest looking for dinner. The soft sound of feathers followed by the rustle of leaves was an owl settling down on a branch. A gentle whoosh of wings, a squeak, and a branch creaking again signaled the owl catching a mouse and returning to its roost.

  A gentle breeze brushed against her, and she inhaled the scents. Leaves, dirt, flowers all filled her lungs. She listened closer, allowing her senses to expand, and smiled.

  “You can stop sneaking around,” she said to the night, her voice low. She opened her eyes and looked directly at the still-hidden figure of the Sandman. “You were right about getting back here last night.”

  Though she hadn’t seen him, or even heard him, Selia had somehow known the Sandman had been walking towards her through the trees. Maybe she knew he was there due to the lack of animals rustling up their dinner, or the barely heard sound of the owl flying off. Not only was she puzzled by her ability to sense him, but also irritated by the fact she had allowed her senses to dull so much over the years.

  A hunting trip by herself was definitely going to happen so she could sharpen the skills that had been honed from the moment she could walk. When she’d stopped depending so heavily on her warrior skills, she didn’t know. That was soon going to change, though, if for no other reason than to be able to sneak up on the man who loved sneaking up on her.

  “You've seen the picture, then?” he asked as he walked silently toward her. “I think it's poorly framed as a study on your magnificent breasts, but it was a thug with an outdated iPhone running for his life. I suppose considerations have to be made.”

  “Um, thanks,” Selia said, blushing. “Yeah, I saw the photo. Al called around three this morning as Bernie and Alex showed up at the front door. Alex gave me a laptop, which had the photos already up and ready for me to see.” She snickered. “I might have managed to embarrass Al in the process, too. By the time the Caruso brothers left, they were satisfied it wasn't me in that photo.”

  As he neared the porch, she stood; the gun in one hand and phone in the other. She dropped her voice into a husky whisper, “Care to step inside, handsome?”

  “Why, yes; yes, I would.” He countered with a deeper tone in his own voice. She wondered what was going on behind those sunglasses and balaclava. His gloved fingers traced the curve of her jaw.

  She closed her eyes and sighed, leaning into the touch. He really shouldn't have that effect on her. No one else caused her heart to nearly jump from her chest, shivers to race down her spine, or make her legs feel like jelly with the touch of a hand, gloved or not.

  “Not fair,” she whispered, as her hand with the phone fumbled for the door.

  Somehow, she managed to open the door, and when she opened her eyes, he was already slipping past her into the house. One of these nights, that mask was going to come off, along with the rest of his clothes.

  Following him inside, she tossed the robe on the bed. She wore a very short skirt and a short-sleeved blouse beneath the robe. A pair of ankle boots sat on the floor next to the bed.

  “Very nice. What are you wearing beneath it?” the Sandman said cheerfully as he gestured to her outfit.

  Heat flared across her cheeks, and she was pretty certain the blush went down to her cleavage.

  “Why don't you find out?” A sly smile pulled at her lips as a dare sparkled in her eyes.

  He actually approached her, removing his sunglasses, and tucking them into his trench coat as he came closer. He pulled off his right glove, slowly, and it disappeared into his trench coat as well. His fingers, rough but warm, brushed against the exposed flesh of her breasts and a shiver of delight raced through her. He leaned in close to her.

  “Take off the mask and see what happens,” he invited.

  Dares were always something that got Selia into trouble because she could never back down from them. His words sounded an awful lot like a dare to her. Hesitantly, she searched his face for any sign that would tell her to stop. Not seeing anything that would signal she was overstepping bounds, she lifted the edge of his mask and slowly pulled it up to his nose. She swallowed hard as she stared into his eyes, her lips quivering in anticipation and excitement, wondering if she should continue or stop there.

  His lips quirked upward into a smile as his eyes brightened. She watched, as though from a distance, as his face lowered to hers and her lips parted. Her eyes closed as their mouths met and she melted against him, her hands wrapping around him as the kiss deepened and their tongues danced together, exploring each other's mouths.

  The kiss was heaven on earth and all thought evaporated from her mind, desire taking its place. She felt him turn her, his hands roving over her body even as she pressed against him. He tasted like coffee and cream, with a hint of mint. She suddenly decided coffee wasn't so bad, after all.

  The Sandman slowly moved her towards the bed, except some part of her didn't like that idea. She turned him around and shoved him onto the bed. With a wide, brilliant, almost feral grin, she pulled off the blouse, revealing a black bra with lace fringing the edges and tossed it to the side.

  She was crawling up the bed overtop him, when she heard a crash and her brain suddenly caught up with what she was doing. Looking to the side, she saw the lamp was on the floor in pieces, and the bulb shattered. Blushing fiercely, she ducked her head before looking towards the Sandman with just her eyes. He leaned up on his elbows and began chuckling, which caused her to giggle a little.

  “Well, should we take that as a hint to stop for now, or shall we just trash the place?” he said with a killer smile.

  Selia groaned and curled up on the bed beside him, draping herself across his side. She kissed his chin even as her hand played across his chest.

  “We probably should take the hint,” she sighed, tilting her head back to look up at him. “If Al sends the boys back, I'd have a hard time explaining how I managed that feat, not to mention the reason why.” She nuzzled up against his neck, enjoying his unique scent. “I can't tell them the truth,” she whispered, “Though I would most definitely rather be enjoying you.”

  “I'd like that as well,” he said with a smile. He paused, considering something. “I can get a replacement lamp here within an hour. Let me make a call. That will negate you needing to explain anything. Now, if we can just get this mess cleaned up, perhaps get a cold shower...” He trailed off with a laugh.

  She giggled and had to force her eyes from darting down his body to find out just how aroused he was. “Very well,” she finally said, kissing his jaw lightly. “I'll go find a broom and dustpan while you make your call.”

  Sitting up, she scooted towards the edge of the bed and paused. Glancing over her shoulder, she teased, “So... you plan on letting me take the initiative, huh?” She dropped a wink. “I'll keep that in mind.”

  “What can I say? Vigilantes like strong women,” he replied. “It cuts down on the need to rescue them.”

  She snickered before replying, “Takes all the fun out of it for the girl, though.” Standing, Selia headed for the bedroom door. Pausing in the door frame she added over her shoulder, “I wouldn't object to being grabbed and ravaged. Especially since I know you can leave me weak in the knees and putty in your hands.”

  “What made you think I'd let you keep the initiative after things got started?” he retorted with a wink.

  Selia swooned in the doorway. Oh, gods, the man was evil. She turned to look at him with desire filling her eyes. “Mmmm, good point. Guess we'll have to find out, won't we?”

  “At some point, yes, we will,” he agreed.

  Selia smiled and left the room. If she stayed too much longer, the phone call wasn't going to get made and they'd probably still be there at noon the next day. A delightful and thoroughly enticing thought, even if it wasn’t a very practical or safe one.

  As she searched the kitchen for a broom and dustpan, Selia had to admit she was somewhat thankful chaos had crashed d
own around her. If it hadn't, she wouldn't have been able to meet the Sandman, let alone discover such an overwhelming attraction for him.

  A part of her knew there was something more than a physical attraction, but her saner side refused to examine it and figure out what it was.

  Locating the items, she padded back to the bedroom and found the Sandman standing by the door, his mask back in place. Such a pity. He had such handsome and strong features. When he saw her, he must have read something in her expression.

  “I didn't want to keep the mask halfway on, it's not comfortable. If I took it off…” He shrugged. “I'd be tempted to kiss you, eventually even getting back to your lips.”

  “More's the pity,” Selia murmured, as she knelt beside the broken lamp.

  He sighed and gestured towards her bra. “Would you mind putting those away? They're more dangerous than your swords.”

  Looking up, Selia's face flushed. “I, umm... I'll go grab another blouse,” she replied.

  Picking up the largest, almost-intact bottom of the lamp, she dropped it in the small trash can in the room on her way out. Smiling, she darted to her bedroom and grabbed a dark blue blouse from a drawer and pulled it on over her head. The blouse had small cap sleeves, a deep scooped neck, and was practically a second skin.

  Returning to the bedroom, she said, “Whoever filled out the wardrobe must have thought Al was putting up a mistress. I doubt think there's anything not scandalous in that closet!”

  She crouched near the mess and began piling the rest of the large pieces on the dustpan before using the little broom.

  The Sandman hadn't moved from the door, which was far from annoying. All things considered; it was probably a good idea. In fact, she found it difficult to not think of his lips on her, his hands roving over her body as he explored with warm, light kisses.

  Standing, the dustpan full, she turned to find him directly behind her, and her breasts now brushed up against his chest. Why did the fabric of her blouse have to be so damned thin? she wondered as she smiled softly into his eyes.

  “I think it's time I made that call,” he said, a little hastily. He pulled out what looked like an armored flip phone, opened it, and began scrolling through numbers, moving away from her suddenly.

  All Selia could do was nod. The mess was cleaned up and she somehow managed to dump the dustpan of pieces in the trash can without spilling it on the floor. Leaving him to make the call without her as a distraction, she stepped into her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Running her hands through her hair, she fell back onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling.

  What in the names of all the gods was going on with her? The Sandman wasn't the first man who had aroused her, but no one else had ever affected her as strongly. She didn't understand it, but then, she hadn't dated a lot, either. Drawing in a deep breath, she rolled off the bed and decided to search for shoes.

  By the time she'd found a halfway decent pair that wasn't three-inch high stilettos, she had managed to calm her nerves and bash down the nearly overpowering desire to rip every piece of clothing from the Sandman's body and carry out every promise and threat she'd spoken so far.

  Restraining herself became considerably easier when she remembered Soren was in the hospital and Alex said he didn't want to have to kill her. She returned to the main bedroom to find the Sandman tucking the phone away, and once again, looking outside.

  “So, how long before the lamp is delivered?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

  “It should be here within an hour. It will be coming from a nice Hispanic family business. They barely speak English, but that's a positive thing when you want to keep a low profile.” He glanced at her. “Yes, I'm fluent in Spanish.”

  “I'm just a bit envious,” she replied with a smile. “I can get by, but I'm nowhere near fluent in Spanish. Italian, yes. Spanish? Not so much.”

  “I won't tell you the other languages I'm fluent in, then,” he said with a shrug. “I spent two years going through those computer language software programs. You should try them.”

  Lowering her lashes, she didn't tell him she was fluent in Latin, Russian, Hebrew, and German. She even knew enough French to be more than a passing tourist due to the high school classes she had taken. Those were in addition to the languages she’d learned on Temeria, due to the pirates her people traded materials with.

  “Perhaps I should look into that,” she replied. Turning her eyes back to his, she added, “So… what shall we do until the lamp shows up?”

  “What did you have in mind for tonight?”

  “Well, I'd like to see Soren again before checking out Azyre House,” she replied. “But I need your help in coming up with a disguise that will fool even him.” She sank into the single chair in the room and leaned back into it like a queen on her throne. “I have an idea, if you're interested.”

  “I've been interested in all of your ideas so far,” he conceded. “Go ahead.”

  Selia smiled softly and leaned forward, excitement and delight etched on her face. No one would recognize her. Not even Soren.

  Chapter Eighteen

  S elia followed the Sandman into the hospital, once again taking the backdoor. Again, no one stopped them or spoke, though a few did give her a second glance before smiling and turning back to their work. She didn’t bother keeping her head down; what was the point when she was with the city’s most notorious vigilante?

  The Sandman stopped outside Soren’s room and leaned causally against the wall. She paused, her hand on the door handle and gave him a quizzical frown.

  “You coming in?” she asked.

  “Nah, you need the time alone with your dad,” he replied, hands in his pockets.

  Her face smoothing out, she smiled, leaned over, and kissed his masked cheek. She’d eventually get used to the unusual texture of his balaclava, but that was okay. There was plenty of time. Opening the door, she slipped inside, allowing it to ease closed behind her. Soren glanced towards the door before doing a double take. A smile grew beneath her scarf as he stiffened and began searching for a weapon he didn’t possess in a panic.

  “Who the hell are you?” he demanded, as he twisted on the bed, still trying to find a weapon, or rather something that could be used as a weapon.

  Selia giggled. She couldn’t help it. Seeing Soren unable to find a weapon of any sort was too funny, especially since he was in a hospital bed and clothed in one of their gowns. He paused and looked closer as she walked towards him.

  He sighed and collapsed back against his pillows, finally recognizing her.

  “Selia, I should take you over my knee for this.”

  She giggled again and took off her neoprene gloves before taking his hand in hers.

  Soren gripped her hands tightly with his left hand as he shook his head and gestured towards her outfit with his right. “You’re using that as a costume?”

  She freed a hand and fingered the wavy, shoulder-length blonde hair of the wig she had chosen from the Sandman’s vast collection. Her brows were now blonde, and she had changed her eyes to green, thanks to contacts. She’d used enough eye shadow and liner to make her now-green eyes pop even more before applying blood-red lipstick that wouldn’t come off without makeup remover or a lot of scrubbing, even if the scarf she wore did hide her lips.

  The scarf wrapped around the lower portion of her face, allowing only her eyes and forehead to be seen. Somehow, the Sandman had procured a Kevlar vest that managed to reveal plenty of cleavage, and she wore a plunging V-neck black blouse over it. A wide utility belt emphasized her narrow waist and the black leather jeans made her legs seem even longer. Black waterproof boots completed the basic ensemble, but it was the black trench coat that truly brought the entire outfit together.

  Of course, the gun tucked into a shoulder holster and the twin swords beneath the trench coat, didn’t hurt, either. A small Keltec was snug inside her left boot and a very nice set of throwing knives were tucked in her right.

 
“It fooled you, didn’t it? And you know me better than anyone else,” she countered, her eyes dancing with laughter as she looked down at him.

  Soren raised a brow, the smile fading slightly. “Really? Is that still true? What about your not-so-little sidekick?” Selia blushed hard, and though she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out. Soren’s smile grew. “Only three shades of red? You must not have said, or done, much.”

  “Not for lack of trying,” she muttered, glancing away as her face burned.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t bother telling me details.” He paused, squeezing her hand before changing topics. “What have you learned about Alfi’s plans so far?”

  “Nothing more than what I’ve already told you. He’s been in touch with, Azyre House, and plans to auction the information to the highest bidder,” Selia replied, feeling guilty for not knowing more.

  “That’s unfortunate. You need more intel before you can act against him. Otherwise, killing him might not prevent what he has planned.” Soren shook his head, relaxing further into his pillow.

  “I could learn more if I wasn’t relegated to the bungalow,” Selia grumbled.

  She didn’t bother to hide her annoyance. It was pointless when Soren knew her moods better than anyone else. She may have had an excellent poker face, but Soren had been around her long enough to know her little tells.

  He snorted. “Oh, yeah. You’re really staying at the bungalow. It doesn’t look like you’ve been restricted to the bungalow to me.”

  “I’m not? Tell that to Al when he sends the guys to check up on me daily.” Selia retorted.

  Soren grunted and shifted in the bed. “Not sure what I could do to help about that.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Papa. I’ve still got a few surprises in store.”

  Soren chuckled a little before a yawn interrupted him. “You need to go, or I need some coffee.” He stretched, laughed, and then yawned again. “And you’ll have to take off that damned scarf.”

  “I’ll let you get some rest, Papa,” Selia said, finding it easier and easier to call him that endearment.