Inclined to agree, she wanted to thank him, feeling his presence had saved them both. But they were in the middle of nowhere. Why did he get out? Where’s he going? There’s nothing out here.
Her zeal for the anonymous tip disappeared in the fading wash of adrenaline. She grabbed his hand, feeling the need to touch this person who had survived death with her. “You know we almost just died.”
He responded with gentle reassurance. Mesmerized by his ruddy lips and seeing them part to speak, she leaned towards him.
“It’s not your turn to die, Bella.”
She blinked and when she opened her eyes, he was gone.
Malachi studied his hounds. Angst and confusion rolled from them in choppy waves; questions were brewing. “Out with it.”
Zander sucked his teeth. “It’s hard to not want to kill this guy. The poison, the 9 mm that murdered a book instead of her. What part of her life isn’t under threat? I want to protect her, yet I can’t stop her murder. At the same time, I’m glad she’s going to die." He shrugged. “I don't understand these feelings.”
“I see,” Malachi said. “Ransom?”
“By my measure, she has everything—family, beauty, smarts, career—at least she did have all that. Still, she makes me want to give to her. All I’ve ever done is take from others. I don't know what to do with this desire, with her. And I certainly don't want to go to Hell, either.”
“Dalton?”
He closed his eyes for a long moment before answering. “Why do I care about her?” His soft voice quivered with turbulent emotion. “The thought of what’s going to happen to her makes me sick. I don't know if I can bear to watch this.”
Malachi loved this job for it gave him a tremendous sense of satisfaction, especially when the hounds performed so well this early on.
“Zander, realize you’re now a force for karmic justice. What might a hound conjure that’s worse than Hell itself? You’ll see justice for the man with the gun. And don't feel guilt for wanting her to die; you’re a part of her karmic path, which requires her death.
“Ransom, you’re experiencing the other side of theft, that which a thief never gets. I can see the threat of Hell is a great motivator for you.
“Dalton, from abuser to protector. You once would have laughed at her pain.” He clapped, bestowing a smile upon them. “Very good, boys.” He waved his hand to open a portal. “Now I have a treat for you.”
The scene opened with Bella climbing into bed.
“You’ve connected with her in the karmic records by saving her life, and you’ve connected physically with her on the earthly plane. Now you must lay claim to her again so she’ll gravitate to you after death. Show her how dedicated you are to her.” He waved them free.
“Go. Make her yours.”
Four
After the harrowing drive and near miss with death under the wheels of a tractor trailer truck, Bella returned to her apartment with the shakes. Oh, my God, that was close.
She wasn’t one to buckle easily, but that near instant-death-by-semi was a little too close for comfort. Bronson’s words echoed in her mind. You’re a dead person. Dead.
His words seemed like empty threats at the time and she scoffed at his blustering. But tonight’s near miss with tragedy frightened her. “There’s no way to put that semi and me in that exact place and time.”
Maybe that semi was going to kill me no matter where it found me on that road.
“The anonymous tip wanted to meet me out there.” A shiver shot across her shoulders. “And Dalton. From nowhere on the side of the road to saving my life within minutes. If he hadn’t shouted ‘Here!’ at that instant.” She shuddered, seeing in her mind the mangled wreckage of her small car under the wheels of the truck, her body crumpled—all prevented by the actions of a stranger.
Who was he? Just another mystery from my week?
His presence lingered in her mind like an itch she couldn’t reach.
For dinner, she heated leftovers and opened a bottle of red wine. With little appetite, she abandoned her dinner and took a glass of wine to her bedroom where she curled into an overstuffed chair by the fireplace near the window. The flames cast an eerie light about the darkened room and reflected in the windows, matching her fright from earlier. Her week had ended with a disturbing collection of anomalies, albeit handsome ones. Each was unique in themselves, but somehow chilling in a good way when put together.
“Zander. What went on there?” She had the annoying feeling something happened, yet she didn’t remember anything other than a lingering sexual tension. Those pale blue eyes seemed to swallow her. She seriously hoped to meet him again; he was a trove of delight she’d be happy to dive into.
“And then there’s Ransom from Nuit Décadent.” She drew her legs up and hugged them. “That deal with the drink was freaky, but he had the moves and a great body. I’d climb that with no second thoughts.”
How strange to come across three hot guys in one week when finding one was usually a challenge.
She turned off the fireplace and crawled into bed. At the end of a long week, the one thing she couldn’t get out of her head was the three hotties. Zander. Ransom. Dalton.
What I’d give to run into those three again.
Exhaustion seeped into her muscles and mind and she drifted into a dream state.
She tossed in her bed. She ached with wanting her breasts touched, her core begged to be filled, and her heart sought a lost connection. But her soul needed …
I’m here, Zander said.
In the wondrous delight of her subconscious imagination, he lay beside her. She sighed with relief, knowing she’d been delivered the answer to her prayers. Unfulfilled loneliness gave way to intense expectation. How are you here?
He stroked the length of her jaw and down her throat. I’m here because you want me.
Her nipples hardened with joy. True. I wanted you the instant we met.
His hands moved lower, stroking her chest and ribs, going all the way to her inner thighs. Gooseflesh ran up and down her legs. Her knees sagged open with the call for fulfillment.
Another form lay beside her. Her dream-self gazed at his face. Oh, it’s Ransom! Tremors rippled through her body and she writhed with erotic shivers. Her hottest fantasies were getting serviced tonight.
While Zander kissed one side of her body, Ransom applied his tongue to the other side. Each took turns kissing her as they alternately tended to a breast.
Hot shivers wove from her feet to her core and up to her breasts. She had hands all over her, even her feet. She raised her head and glanced down. Dalton was kissing her feet, working his way up her legs.
Her head dropped back and the kissing returned. She sank into a maelstrom of high, erotic sensations. Dalton massaged her calves, kissing and licking his way closer to the seat of her desire. When he reached her upper thighs, her hips began undulating.
Ransom sucked one breast and stroked her ribs. Zander kissed her deep, his tongue penetrating her just as Dalton’s tongue penetrated her below.
She rocked against them. Her core teetered on an epic explosion. Dalton licked and sucked her clit even as Zander wrapped his lips around one nipple and tugged heavily at it.
Her breasts were gorged with blood, as was her upper and lower lips. She reached to fill her hand on one side and wrapped her fingers around Ransom’s hard-on. She grabbed Zander on the other side. Each one took turns kissing her and working her breasts with tongue and hands as she stroked them.
She glanced down between kisses. Dalton had abandoned her clit and grabbed his cock to steer it toward her opening. The sight of him manhandling his rigid flesh as he approached threw sensual fuel on her fire. She moaned when he touched her swollen and slickened lips; he slid in.
Every inch of her body was being loved and licked and stroked and penetrated. Someone’s hand slipped under her buttocks and lightly penetrated her final orifice. They fucked her with fingers and cock and tongue, and she loved every sec
ond.
Her hips bucked faster and faster as her orgasm began rising. When she could hold it off no longer, her core exploded with ecstasy and waves of completion blew through every cell of her body.
The next morning, she lingered in bed with the echoes of an intense wet dream still circulating in her mind and body. She lay with her eyes closed, her hands touching where her dream lovers had—
Her eyes sprang open. “Did I just have incredible sex in my dreams with those three hot guys?” Not wanting to argue the point, she closed her eyes again, seeking the last vestiges of the best sex she could ever wish for.
In my dreams, as they say … or my prayers.
She rose and spent the morning doing research at her computer. It was a cloudy day and staying in seemed to have settled onto the schedule. She made tea and sat in her chair by the window, still wearing her sleep shirt and an ancient pair of yoga pants.
Rain had sprinkled lightly all morning. She drew a shawl about her shoulders and gazed out the window, remembering how she’d play count the rain drops as a child. Her eyelids drifted down, and she succumbed to the lull of a lazy afternoon.
In Purgatory, a heavy silence wrapped around the hounds. Malachi waited before opening the next portal. Finally, Dalton spoke up. “You say she dies soon?”
A mournful ringing bell filled the chamber. It vibrated up through the stone floor and spread through the air, making hairs stand up. Zander vigorously rubbed the back of his neck and put his hands to his ears. “What’s that?”
“Tis Hell’s Bell, proclaiming a new arrival.” Malachi waved his arm and a new portal opened. In it, Bella slept in a large chair by the window.
Bella twitched as she napped in the chair.
Another dreamscape, one not so friendly as last night’s erotic masterpiece. This time she walked a barren landscape with a sense of impending doom at her back. She kept looking over her shoulder, but there was nothing to see, only fear slipping down her spine.
She walked faster, soon darting from one barren spot to another and crouching; she was exposed with nowhere to hide. Fear tightened in her belly.
Suddenly, she heard a bell ringing. The hairs on the back of her neck lifted, and goosebumps flashed down both arms. Even though she rubbed her upper arms briskly, no comfort came. A sense of unease remained. She turned and ran from the bell.
“It’s almost time,” Malachi announced.
“You’re not going to make me watch this, are you?” Dalton asked.
“Yeah,” Zander added. “We don't want to watch.”
Ransom agreed. “Yeah. We don't want to see her death.”.
Malachi snapped his fingers and the hounds appeared. They sat immediately, heads hanging and tails tucked.
“Don't get cocky. Remember, your goal is to avoid going to Hell and your job is to support your mistress. She’s about to go through a sudden death, and you will be there to greet her when she passes over. Then you’ll escort her here.” He snapped his fingers.
In the frightening dreamscape, Bella sensed her pursuer getting closer until she ran from place to place, becoming winded. She paused and held a hand to her side, gasping for breath while her heart slowed. But something was coming for her, something close; she could feel it.
She turned and ran again.
Outside Bella’s apartment, a man with black hair picked the lock on her front door. Silent as death, he slipped in and eased the door shut. Knowing the floor plan and having surveilled her for the last week, he found her exactly where he expected—asleep in the big chair by the bedroom fireplace.
The hounds arrived and congregated in the corner of Bella’s bedroom.
Zander wanted to make sure the hounds resolutely faced the scene with stoic acceptance. Ransom twisted a non-existent ring on his finger. Dalton locked his jaw and clamped his lips tight. Zander stood close by, fairly certain how this was going to come down.
But then Bella woke up.
The dream was almost over. She came to a cliff and peered over the edge—there was a gray nothingness. She stepped back and turned around; she was tired of running. But her mind shouted—
She jerked wide awake, all her senses screaming Run!
Which way? From who?
A floorboard squeaked in the front room. She rose and grabbed a bat she kept by her bed and crouched by the door. Seconds seemed like minutes as she held her breath. She could feel his energy, his physical presence just before she saw him. She swung the bat.
When Bella went into motion, the hounds went on alert. Zander had his orders not to interfere in Bella’s death. Dalton tensed, ready to jump in when Zander grabbed his arm.
The hit man sensed movement from the incoming bat and side-stepped. The bat whistled through thin air. He dodged the blow, but the girl stomped on his instep and elbowed him in the eye.
She scrambled for her phone and aimed for the bathroom, but he grabbed her hair and jerked her back. He shoved her to the floor and sat on her, trapping her with a hand around her throat.
She gasped for air. Her arms were caught under his knees, leaving her defenseless. Stars swam in her vision. What little breath she had was trapped painfully under her ribs. Primal fear of imminent death sent hot tears of defeat flooding her throat, choking her even more.
He pulled out a muzzled handgun and put it to her forehead. Her mind shouted No! even as her eyes crossed trying to see the muzzle. He tapped her forehead with the gun. “Hey.”
Through her watery field of vision, she glared at him.
“When Bronson says you’re dead, you’re dead.”
She never heard what came after.
Zander held both Ransom and Dalton back as the ‘pfft’ of a silenced slug sliced sharply through the night. “Easy boys, this one’ll get his turn. Remember what Malachi said.”
Collectively wanting to rip the killer apart, all they could do was watch as he tucked his gun away and strode out the front door, gone in seconds.
On the floor, Bella’s shade sat up from her body. “What just happened?” She scrambled to her feet. Seeing the three guys from her erotic dream, she asked, “What’s going on? Is this another hot dream, because I’m not digging this vibe.”
“We’re here to help you, Bella,” Ransom said.
“But this isn’t a dream,” Zander added.
He stepped toward her with sadness crinkling his pale blue eyes. The vibe was getting worse. “You’re not helping,” she said, voice shaking. She glanced from face to face and backed up.
Dalton stepped in and took her hand. “I’m sorry, Bella, but do you remember what Bronson said? How he threatened to kill you?”
She turned slowly around. Her body lay in a spreading pool of blood. “But I can’t be dead,” she whispered. “I have so much to do.” She cocked her head, oddly mystified by her death even as she observed it. “That’s really me? And I’m really dead?”
They all nodded with damning confirmation. Dalton said, “Yes. We’re sorry, but you’re dead.”
With utter calm, she understood. The pounding heart, the sinking sensation of on-coming panic, the clenching stomach, all reactions she would expect at such news … never came.
I guess there’s no point making a stink now.
She touched her forehead and the back of her head. “I don't understand. Where am I? If I’m dead … well, this doesn’t look like heaven.” She glanced about nervously and gave them the once over. “And you three don't look like angels.”
Zander took her other hand. “We’re more than angels, we’re hounds. And we’re yours to command.”
“Command to do what?” she asked.
“You need to meet Malachi,” Zander said. “He’ll answer all your questions. Will you come with us?”
“Depends. Where are we going?”
“Trust us,” Dalton whispered. “And hold on.” He hugged her arm tight.
Zander snapped his fingers.
Instantly, they were in a dark stone chamber. A man in long robes with a fr
iendly face waited with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Is this Malachi?” she whispered. “He’s not my idea of God.”
“Malachi, this is Bella,” Zander said.
Malachi rushed forward. With his robes and a long white beard, he reminded her of an illustration from one of her childhood story books. He took her hand. She exclaimed with relief. “You mean I’m not here to go to Hell?”
“Certainly not, dear. Welcome to Purgatory.”
She snatched her hand back. “What’d I do to deserve Purgatory? I haven’t done anything. In fact, I was murdered.”
Her words echoed in her ears. Now that she’d proclaimed her status as such, her demise seemed more real. A hum filled her head and she feared she might sway with vertigo. She reached out and grabbed someone’s hand. “I shouldn’t have been murdered,” she wailed. “It wasn’t my turn to die.”
Malachi’s eyes crinkled with sadness. “I’m sorry dear, but it was your turn to die. The bell rang for you.”
“It was? It did?” She remembered the eerie bell ringing that had made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. Her shoulders slumped. “I don't understand. What’s after life if not heaven?”
“Not all is lost,” Malachi rushed to say. “What’s after life is … the afterlife. Heaven isn’t the only other option.”
She blurted, “Options? Besides Heaven and Hell, what other choices are there?” From being murdered to choosing afterlife options all within a matter of minutes was too much. She wanted to sit down and glanced about, desperate for a chair. But Malachi kept talking and she didn’t want to miss anything important from her options list.
“Since you were murdered, as you admitted, would you like to deliver a little justice to those who deserve it?”
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