She reached behind her back, unclasping the hooks and freeing more of her skin to his wanton assault. She arched her back in offering, grasping his face and guiding his mouth where she wanted it.
A jolt of sweet joy crashed through her as he sucked her nipple deeply. Hard and rough—like a man with no cares other than his desire, and she loved every second. A new tension whipped through her, an essence meshing with her own. She moaned, reeling as his lips moved to her other breast and his teeth clamped down. Ecstasy exterminated the pain and she drew him more tightly to her. He bit down harder. The pressure intensified, heightened into a maddening mass.
The dark, explosive essence invading her body clawed at what it found within, stroking and fondling Adonna. The life that had now become a part of her own screamed for increased touch.
Tracy’s fingers clutched Sean’s hair, Adonna vibrated, as if desperate to find a way to get what she needed. Sean pushed Tracy back to the couch and shimmied off her pants. Adonna wrapped their legs around him, rubbing Tracy’s swollen need against his jeans, soaking her underwear.
Sean’s growl deepened as he ripped at the thin cloth. He painfully sucked more and more of her breast into his mouth as his fingers slipped between her legs and into her slick folds.
Her back arched and she cried out, her body and the entity inside her writhing, begging for release. Tears streamed down Tracy’s cheeks as she molded her body to Sean’s twirling fingers. The sensations were almost too much to bear. She wrapped her legs around him, trapping his hand between them and driving his fingers deeper. Her back stiffened and the roiling energy inside trembled and shook before a sizzling electric current exploded through her body, reaching out and touching every cell, every membrane until they cried out as one. She moaned as another wave hit her and she knew three other voices screamed alongside hers, but all she could hear was her own cries until her tremors ceased and Sean collapsed on her chest, gasping for air.
She held him for several moments as the energy inside them continued to spin, encompass, and share. Tears continued to stream down Tracy’s cheeks as unimaginable delight eased through every part of her body until Sean’s entity receded back into his host, and the part of Adonna that had apparently entered Sean returned where it belonged.
Sweet euphoria swept over Tracy before a melting sensation drifted over her body. She twitched and stared at her hand. Wiggling her fingers, she gasped as they answered her command. She was herself again.
Sean’s weight pressed her down into the soft couch. She gulped down the need to puke until he eased aside. His eyes had returned to a normal, human blue. The intensity in them turned to wariness.
He blushed. “I’m-I’m sorry.”
The words, so simple, so caring. A stark contrast from the frenzy of moments before.
He stood, tugged his pant leg away from his skin and grimaced. “I need to change. I’ll be right back.” He headed for the back room.
Tracy hadn’t even realized that his pants were still on until he stood. For some reason her mind envisioned him inside her.
Someone was inside her, but it wasn’t Sean. Not his dick, at least. And it looked like he’d come in his pants when the four of them climaxed together.
Climaxed. Together.
Shit. What was she doing?
As Adonna slipped back into the recesses of her mind, Tracy became wary of her nakedness—of her own damp bottom moistening a black leather couch that she'd never seen before, in the house of a man she hardly knew. She didn’t want to be here. She never gave permission. She only wanted to read. How could this happen? How could she have had no control over her own body?
But she had control now. She needed to get her life back.
She fingered her nipples expecting to find blood, but her skin seemed intact. Tender to the touch. Bruised, but not broken.
This would never happen again.
She slipped on her bra and shirt. She found her panties crumpled under the couch and put them on, wishing she could wash away the remnants of their, what? Certainly not love. Intensity. Desire. Lust. But nothing emotional. She didn’t even want this asshole. She wanted…
Oh God, John!
Her stomach fisted and squeezed. How could she have done this to him? She blinked, and the foggy haze receded. This wasn’t even her. She’d been taken over. Hijacked by a freaking sex-starved alien.
Had Tracy even been there? Of course, her body had, but she was barely conscious, pushed to the background, a prisoner unable to do anything but watch.
She slipped on her jeans and searched for her purse. She needed to get out of there. How could she even face Sean after the way she’d acted? The way they’d both acted, for that matter.
Tracy clenched her teeth. She’d been used. Adonna saw what she wanted, and she got it, Tracy be damned.
Was that what it was like for John when Dak had taken over at the restaurant? Pushed into the recesses of his mind while Dak did as he pleased with John’s body?
John.
Her heart twisted within her chest. Her lungs refused to take in air. She’d been with another guy. A guy she barely knew, while the man she actually did care about was probably at work, saving people’s lives. All because Adonna wanted to get her rocks off.
What kind of person had she become?
She pressed her palms against her temples. No. This wasn’t Tracy’s fault. She didn’t even like Sean. There was no one to blame for this, other than the desperate slut who’d kidnapped her body.
*Sorry.*
The word came from deep within her soul. Adonna? Maybe, but her mind still whirled with the sense of energy slowly ebbing away inside her. If Sean were to touch her again, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t explode from within if she didn’t die from shame first.
She found her purse beneath an end-table and reached for the straps. She needed to get out of there. Now.
Tracy backed up until she hit the wall beside the door. Should she call out? Say goodbye? Make up a dumbass excuse that he wouldn’t believe?
Taking a deep breath for courage, she grabbed the door handle and breathed a sigh of relief when it opened.
Just a few more steps and she’d be safe. She slipped out the door and ran-walked down the pavement and past Sean’s car.
Shit. She didn’t even know where she was! She glanced back to the house. Green shrubs lined the front windows. The eight from the house number thirty-eight hung below its counterpart, as if one of the screws were missing.
The door opened.
Sean tilted his head to the right, brow furrowed. “Tracy?”
“I-I’m sorry.” Tracy turned from the house and bolted to the corner of the road.
Sean didn’t follow, and she exhaled as the wind kicked up, rattling the street sign: Madison Avenue and Washington Lane. She’d never heard of either.
She continued her sprint down Madison, toward the droning sounds of a main road. Once she got to the street, hopefully she would see something that would help.
A droplet smacked her head.
Rain. Now? Seriously? Could this day get any worse?
She grabbed her cell phone and dialed Laini.
The line clicked when she answered. “Hey, girl. What’s up?”
Tracy held back the sob brimming in her chest. “Hey. I need you.”
A slight hesitation. “What’s wrong? Did the cop end up being mistake number four? If so I swear I’m gonna break open a can of whoop ass!”
“No, no, no. It’s not John. I just, I just.” Shit. She just what? Glancing up into the darkening clouds, she entered a parking lot. “Can you come get me? I’m at the Wawa on Station Road in Erial.”
“What the heck are you doing in Erial?”
“Could you please just come and get me?”
She sighed. “You’re killing me, you know that?” Tracy imagined her putting the recliner’s footrest down and setting her book on the table. “I’ll be right there.”
She clicked off the phone and stepped
into the convenience store’s vestibule. The rain dripped in uneven trails down the glass windows.
Tracy shivered as Adonna pulsed inside her.
The burning sensation of Sean’s hands roaming over her, the heat of his mouth, forgetting this guy would be harder than shutting out any of the other assholes she’d dated.
She cringed. No, it wouldn’t be hard to forget.
Adonna would have to get over it and get over him. Tracy had a great guy waiting for her and she wasn’t about to let her Ambient screw that up.
She glanced through the doors, her gaze rolling over the people lined up at the counter. A double chocolate latte might help. At least for now.
32
John flipped on the wiper blades as he pulled out of Dunkin’ Donuts. He washed a broccoli croissant down with black coffee. Dammit, he hated broccoli! Why couldn’t Dak like chocolate like Adonna?
He shook his head and tried to focus on the case photographs he’d reviewed all afternoon, all of which he’d neatly tucked into the briefcase perched on the passenger seat. But his mind kept drifting back to Sunday: the horror on Tracy’s face after Dak took him over and talked directly to her; and the fury he’d felt being pushed to the background in his own body.
*I told you I was sorry.*
“That doesn’t change the fact that you did it. Or that you could do it again. Was it even hard for you?” John’s eyes glared at his reflection in the mirror.
Dak sloshed like jelly, probably enjoying the broccoli, rather than answering the questions. But his silence was answer enough. If Dak had strained in any way to take control of his host, John would have felt it. John had governance over his own body because Dak allowed it. It was that simple.
*You don’t need to be afraid of me.*
John snorted. “Really? You took me over, Dak. You had a conversation with a girl that I really care about and told her things I wasn’t goddamn ready to tell her.”
*I didn’t have the conversation. I suggested you should have the conversation, then I let you do the talking. Anyway, Tracy needed to know about Amy.*
John stopped at a red light and looked into the mirror. “Yes, eventually, but not yet. You’re rushing things. I know you’re excited, but you’re going to scare her. Hell, you’ve already scared me, and I’m used to you.”
*I’m only trying to help.* Dak roiled. If he had a body, John imagined it slumping.
John caved. “I get that you’re trying to help, but can you leave human stuff to me for a little bit? Please?” The light changed, and he started driving again. “She’s already nervous about the whole entity thing. Now she knows something about my past that I wasn’t ready to tell her. The time wasn’t right. Can’t you get that?”
*No. But your anxiety is making it hard for me to enjoy this broccoli.*
“Easy fix. Stop giving me anxiety.”
*I’ll try.*
Sure he would.
The only thing predictable about Dak was his unpredictability.
33
“Hold on a minute.” Laini tucked her feet into the folds of their couch. “You gotta be out of your mind, girl. I mean, what are the chances of you happening to meet the creepy southern octopus at a freaking library, of all places. He has to be stalking you.”
Yeah, either that or he is possessed by an alien. Oh, and by the way, I’m possessed by an alien, too. Tracy rubbed her eyes. “It’s kind of complicated.”
“Well, now that you’re out of there and okay, dish out the dirt. Part of me doesn’t even want to know why you would get into a car with him again. I freaking hope condoms weren’t involved.”
Tracy’s eyes widened over the top of her latte.
Condoms. Shit. Would Adonna even think of that? Probably not. Even John still seemed to struggle with Dak over simple human common sense.
Dammit.
Monday she’d accepted her Ambient, finally experiencing the harmonious relationship John and Dak promised. But now, only two days later, everything was in upheaval again.
She rubbed her temples. There was no way she could live with the constant threat of being taken over.
But what would John and Dak do if they found out she got rid of her Ambient? Would they be able to forgive her?
A small smudge of froth outlined the opening of the plastic lid on her coffee. Two bubbles on the foamy surface popped.
They wouldn’t take the time to forgive her because Adonna was what both of them were interested in. Dak wanted a girlfriend and John wanted to give him one. Tracy was only a convenience.
But the way John looked into her eyes when she told him about the promotion told her he cared. She knew he did. Or maybe she only hoped he did.
Sighing, Tracy set down her drink. “This is all so screwed up.”
“Come on. How bad can it be?”
Tracy glared over the top of her cup.
Laini’s eyes opened like saucers. “Holy, shit. You did it with that stalker, didn’t you? Eww. I don’t care if he was hot. That’s just, eww!” She shook her head. “Damn, I can’t believe things are already over with Inspector Gadget.”
“No.” At least not yet, they weren’t.
Laini set her coffee on the table. “Hold the farm. Are you telling me little Miss Priss screwed a total stranger while her mild-mannered cop boyfriend was out giving people speeding tickets?”
Tracy rubbed her temples. “We didn’t actually have sex.” No, but she might as well have. “You make it sound…” Just as cheap and disgusting as it was.
Adonna rolled inside her, probably reliving her fantasy mash-up.
Laini leaned toward her. “Girl, you know I always got your back, but I think you might be a little under the weather, still. I mean, you walk around talking to yourself, you’re eating chocolate like it’s going out of style and not gaining any weight, which is really ticking me off by the way; and now you’re doing it with a guy you barely know?” Her brow furrowed. “I know they gave you a clean bill of health after your accident, but I’m not sure you’re all right in the head, yet.”
Tracy looked up at her. God, did she want to spill it, but for all she knew, she was being watched. And what would happen to anyone if she told what was really going on? She looked up at the ceiling fan, the television. Were they watching her right now?
Leaning back, Tracy rubbed her forehead. “You know, you’re right. I don’t think I’m okay. I think I’m really stressed out and I did the stupidest thing I could come up with.” Or that Adonna could come up with. Would Tracy ever be strong enough to deny the Ambient something she wanted? If John were any example, the answer was no. She could never completely trust that her body would be under her own control again. And she had serious issues with that.
She shivered. “I should have run my ass off the second I saw that freak the first time.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. The nut-job was hidden under a damn nice display of packaging.” Laini rubbed her shoulder. “Hon, maybe you should call a doctor. Seeing a therapist isn’t that bad. My mom goes twice a month. She says it’s great.”
A shrink, yeah, that would go over well. She’d probably be diagnosed with multiple personalities. “Thanks, but I think I can work this out on my own.”
Laini pursed her lips. “Just promise that you’ll call me the next time you have the urge to do something stupid. You and me, we can go down to the Rodeo House and ride that dumb mechanical bull again. That will kick that stupidity out of you well and good.”
Tracy grabbed her back. “Ouch. We almost ended up in twin hospital beds last time.”
“Which is much better than screwing the whole neighborhood, girl. So, promise me: Mechanical bull?”
Tracy exhaled. “Mechanical bull it is.” But now, more than ever, calling Agent Clark didn’t seem like a half-bad idea.
34
John sat in the parking lot outside the police station, rubbing his eyes. Deep veins seemed to feed puffy, sunken eye sockets. He turned from the rear-view mirror. If he d
idn’t know better, he’d think he was doing drugs.
He slammed the door as he left the car. An entire morning casing the last known whereabouts of the two latest victims had turned up squat.
And then there was the waiting. No calls from dispatch last night, none this morning, and still none after lunch. The killer struck every week, like clockwork. Had he moved on to kill somewhere else? Changed his M.O.? Or had he struck again but no one had been reported missing yet?
Wondering—no—knowing some poor, innocent woman was out there, probably being tortured, kept a burning pool of bile eating a hole into the base of his throat. How many more would die because this maniac managed to stay one step ahead of him?
Art Commings met him outside the building, holding the Office Space for Rent sign. “I took care of this for you.” He tossed the ripped cardboard behind the bush with the others. “You come up with anything?”
“All dead ends, as usual. How about you?”
“None of them had any new love interests. No new jobs. Nothing out of the ordinary. They have to be random marks.”
John pushed through the door. “They have one thing in common.”
“What?”
“They’re all dead.” Because I can’t find out this asshole’s pattern.
Staff Sergeant Biggs stuck his head out of his door. “Commings, Peters: In my office.”
Art glanced at John. “He sounds pissed.”
“Yeah. Let’s see what’s going on.”
A tremor ran down John’s spine as he entered the poorly-lit room. Other than the sergeant propped against the front of his desk, three more men stood in the center of the room looking like carbon copy cut-outs of each other. Suits. Suits were always bad news.
Sergeant Biggs looked up from his folded arms. “You guys are being taken off the case.”
Heat flooded John’s veins. Feds. Here they were, ready to sweep in, steal all his hard work, and make heroes out of themselves. “No way. We’re getting close. I can feel it.”
Biggs pushed away from the desk. “It’s their jurisdiction now. There’s nothing we can do about it.” His red cheeks and grimace didn’t match his words. “We need to hand over all the files immediately.”
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