by Keta Diablo
He turned and walked toward her. “God, Cecily, are you clueless?”
“I’ll mark that down as an insult.”
Her eyes tracked his every move, from crossing the room to settling onto the edge of her bed. For once, she couldn’t pin down his expression because a gamut of emotions flashed through his eyes─regret, nostalgia and...desire. She’d tangled with the same feelings since coming back to Des Moines. They had too much history, a lifetime of remembrances that couldn’t be erased from their memory banks.
“You know what I’ve been doing for the past two hours?”
She glanced at the McDonald’s cup and bag of food. “Went out for food, for one.”
“That took all of ten minutes.”
Her throat dried up. Tension and lust rode the air between them. “What, then?”
“I’ve been sitting here watching you sleep while a labyrinth of images played out in my mind.” He reached out and brushed a finger down her cheek. “I saw you as that little girl standing in a cold, bleak cemetery. Holding Calder’s hand, your violet eyes were filled with apprehension and fear...wide-eyed terror, actually. My gut twisted and my heart, oh, my heart, hurt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. Until that time, I didn’t know a heart could experience physical pain. I wasn’t old enough to know how to comfort you, tell you everything would be okay, but I made a silent vow that day. I swore to God I’d do everything in my power to protect you from everything real or imagined in life.”
She closed her eyes. “Don’t, Marcel.”
“No, let me finish. It was always you, Cecily, no one else. You haunted my waking hours, came to me in dreams every night. When you went off to college that year, I thought I’d go mad. So I made up my mind the next time you came home for a visit, I’d make you mine, forever.”
Her eyes opened on a sigh. “Nothing is forever, except death.”
“And you blame me for Calder’s, don’t you?”
“I don’t think in terms of blame these days; I think in terms of revenge.”
“Everything has changed between us since you came home, and that sledgehammer is at my heart again.”
She cocked her head to the side and then shook it. “Of course it’s changed. Did you expect me to crawl into your bed again and say, “No worries, Marcel, you had me at Demon?”
He blew air through his lips.
“I mean one of us has to be real about this thing between us. It’s changed. You’re a demon hunter for God’s sake, my family is wiped out because of the life you’ve chosen and me...well, I’m just a stupid girl who peddles herbs and tinctures.”
“You’re not stupid, never have been, and not everything has changed between us.”
Her heartbeat picked up speed. She knew what he meant and she couldn’t deny it.
“I’ve always been able to read your eyes, see the truth hidden there. You still want me just as much as I want you. That will never change, not until one of us dies.”
She put a finger to his lips. “Don’t-don’t say that.”
He drew her to him, kissed her neck and whispered near her ear. “Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me to stop and I will.”
A shiver raced down her spine. Telling the sun to stop shining would be easier.
He thumbed her nipple, felt the peaked, hardened bud. “Say it.”
“I want you, damn me for wanting you.”
He pulled his T-shirt over her head, pressed his bare chest into hers and found her lips. The bold, demanding kiss sent her senses reeling. Like an animal starved for water, she returned that kiss, meeting every thrust of his tongue with one of her own. She could no longer breathe, couldn’t think, only knew she wanted him with every cell in her body. During the impassioned kiss, her hands found the zipper to his jeans. She rolled them down his hips and let him finish removing them.
And then he was on top of her, pressing her into the bed, spreading her knees while raining kisses on her face.
“A condom?”
“Don’t have one,” he said his voice heavy with lust.
“Probably wasn’t room in the van alongside all those weapons.”
“Does that change things?”
Running her hand down one heavily inked shoulder and arm, she thought about the symbols. So many times she’d studied them, even asked him once or twice what they meant. She didn’t pursue her curiosity about the drawings, knew Marcel would offer only what he wanted her to know. She wondered if Calder had inked his body with similar symbols. She sighed with the realization she’d never gaze upon her brother’s gorgeous, ripped body again. Coming back to the moment, her hand stopped on the well-muscled curve at the top of his arm. “No, it doesn’t change things but what about your shoulder?”
“Fuck my shoulder.”
She moaned into his mouth when he drove deep inside her. An overwhelming feeling of familiarity, oneness claimed her. He filled her completely, driving in and almost pulling out before burying his cock so hard and deep, her skull connected with the headboard. She couldn’t get enough, the searing flesh against searing flesh, the hot, wet smothering kisses, his calloused hands against the tender skin on her hips─all driving her toward a great abyss.
How she had missed him, missed this, loved him and no other. Her world as she knew it no longer existed, but somehow, in Marcel’s arms, the world seemed less terrifying, less torn to shreds.
Above her, Marcel had ceased to move. “What’s wrong?”
His eyes closed. “Don’t move for a minute.”
“What!”
“I’ve wanted this for so long, I don’t think I can control myself if you move.”
Despite the seriousness of the moment, a short laugh left her lips.
“You would find that funny.”
She grabbed a lock of his long, dark hair. “Marcel, I don’t give a damn right now about your control. Just don’t stop, do you hear me?”
He pushed in again...and again, bringing her to the edge of a giant precipice. All she could think about was the burn of his hands on her body, his mouth devouring hers, the rhythmic joining of their bodies. She’d kill him if he stopped now.
She stepped off the ledge and soared through the sky like a bright falling star. Her body stiffened and she called out his name, reveling in those otherworldly seconds, the out-of-body encounter that only Marcel could deliver.
In the back of her mind, she heard a blissful groan escape his throat and felt his heavy weight pinning her to the bed.
Breathing heavy, he rolled away from her and spooned her body into his. With his arms wrapped possessively around her, he whispered the words. “Only you, Cecily; it’s always been only you.”
She couldn’t recall a time he’d said he loved her. Those words weren’t in Marcel’s playbook. Surely, she’d remember if he had, triumphed in the three little words and yet, she felt his love with every beat of her tremulous heart. Perhaps she’d never hear it from Marcel, but then again, no man had ever, and never would, show it like he did when they made love.
She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she remembered was Marcel running his hand down the side of her head. “You were out like a light.”
“Probably best since I think a Mack truck ran me over.”
Marcel laughed─a sound she rarely heard from him─and then snuggled into her hair. “What is that addictive scent you always wear?”
“A blend of fragrances I sell in the shop.”
“What fragrances?”
“You surprise me,” she said with a chuckle. “Men don’t generally ask for specifics, just the name of the scent.”
“I care about everything when it comes to you.”
Her heart soared. That might be the most romantic thing Marcel had ever said to her. “Well, after that sweet admission, I think I’ll tell you. It’s white tea blossoms, Chrysanthemum petals, a pinch of ginger and a smidgen of thyme.”
“A smidgen of this, a pinch of that. I think you must have tossed in a thimble of sunshine and a drop or
two of rain water. Whatever, it’s bewitching. Pun intended.”
“Okay, enough of the witch talk. I’m not one and never will be.” She turned, rolled toward him and held his eyes. “I have to tell you something, Marcel.”
“Sounds serious.”
“It is. I’m going home, you win.”
He arched his neck back, his eyes never leaving hers. “You wouldn’t bullshit me, would you?”
“No. I thought about what you said, and you’re right. My presence only distracts you, and besides,” tears pooled in her eyes. “I can’t stay here and wonder if you’re ever coming back, or worse, wonder if you died.”
“I won’t.”
She searched every feature of his face. “How do you know? My parents did, Gus did, Calder did.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “Give me something more, say, ‘Hand to God.’”
He cupped her face with both hands. “Hand to God I won’t die. Now, enough of this morbid talk. Call Mom and let her know you’re coming home.”
“Oh, crap. I forgot to turn my phone back on. Can I use yours?”
Marcel slid off the bed and walked across the room to retrieve his phone.
“I’ll stay with Mae one night,” she held up a finger. “But then I’m leaving Des Moines, going home to Minnesota.”
His eyebrows rose. “But why? I lost you twice, once when you went away to college and again when you ran off to Minnesota. I’m not losing you again.”
“You don’t tell me what I can do and can’t do, and besides, I can’t sit around and wait for you die. Didn’t I just say that a minute ago?” She looked away from him. “I don’t want any part of this life you lead. I can’t do it. I can’t live day after day wondering every time you go out whether you’re coming back. Correction. Or never coming back like Gus, my parents, Calder. Don’t ask me to do it because I won’t...can’t.”
He held the phone out between them. “This conversation isn’t over, but I don’t have time to beg right now.”
“Wait. Did I hear the word beg? ‘Cuz if that’s coming down the pike, I might stick around long enough to hear you grovel.”
He scowled. “I’ll put your phone on the charger while you call Mom.”
She called Mae, assured her she was with Marcel and fine, and then she placed the phone on the night table. “Now what, boss man?”
“I’m off to shower and then we’ll rent you a car, get you whatever you need for the trip back.”
What I need is to have my head examined. “Right.”
After Marcel walked into the bathroom to shower, Cecily picked up the same clothing she’d been wearing for two days and dressed. Marcel’s phone beeped from the night table.
Curious, she walked toward it and glanced down at the blinking light. She heard the water still running in the bathroom and then picked up the phone. A message popped up: N.O.M.E.D. Code name Osprey. Human tracker and Malpha spotted activity. Target moving south along railroad tracks toward known destination. Type yes to confirm. 4:12 p.m.
The water had stopped running in the bathroom.
It’s now or never, Cecily.
She typed in yes.
Chapter Thirteen
Cecily always meant to take the pills Marcel confiscated from Leif to the pharmacy to have them identified. Compared to all the madness and turmoil in her life, knowing the difference between a roofie and cherry meth seemed inconsequential. She had, however, grabbed the bottle from the nightstand and placed it in her purse that day. Now, she viewed that insignificant act as a premonition. From whom, she didn’t know. And no longer cared.
The one cup coffeemaker in the motel room stared back at her. She crossed the room, ripped open a single-serve envelope and pushed brew. Thank God, the prior guests had the forethought to add water to the carafe. The delectable aroma of coffee filled the room, rich, dark and delicious.
She dropped two pills into the steaming cup and then sent a prayer skyward. “God forgive me.”
Marcel walked out of the bathroom, rubbing his long, black hair with a white towel. The contrast was stunning, not to mention his wide shoulders and naked torso.
Don’t think about that now, Cecily.
His smile dazzled her, the straight, white teeth, the way it transformed his beautiful face. “Is that coffee I smell?”
She walked to his bed and sat on the edge. “I felt guilty drinking mine in front of you, and I know how you love coffee in the morning.”
He picked up the cup and walked toward her. “Is everything all right?”
Don’t look at him. He can read you like a book. “Fine.” She patted the bed. “Since I’m leaving and you’re...well, we know where you’re going, I thought I’d give that shoulder another treatment. Come on, lie down on the bed.”
He took a sip of coffee and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“That’s fucking hilarious, Cecily.” Another sip found its way down his throat. “Think about. You. Me. A Bed.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not trying to seduce you; I want to make sure.... Damn, you’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? I want to make sure if you’re intent on carrying this out, you can handle yourself.”
He cocked his head to the side, the most quizzical look changing his features. “I love that about you, little gazelle.”
“What?”
“Your blind innocence.”
“If you’re trying to insult me, Marcel, you’ve accomplished your mission.”
He downed the rest of his coffee, set the cup on the nightstand and plopped onto the bed beside her. “I wasn’t trying to insult you.” His fingers traced her face. “No one, including you, could possibly know what it’s like.”
A shudder ran through her. “You mean facing a demon?”
With a slow nod, he laid down on the bed, the tension in his body dissipating. “I don’t want to spend what few moments we have left talking about this. I told you once, you had one chance to pummel me with questions. That time has come and gone.”
She shifted, resting her hips along the long length of his toned body. “You’re right. I want you to relax now and let me do my thing.”
His eyes drifted shut. “You didn’t call it magic.”
“No, and I never will. Because it’s not.”
She placed her hands on his shoulder, her fingers skimming over the injured area. A stab of guilt pierced her heart. And mingled with fear. Was she looking at his face for the last time? The thought cut off her oxygen. She didn’t care what happened to her. If nothing else, she’d be with Calder again. If not, she’d have her revenge and maybe, just maybe, she and Marcel could put all this lunacy behind them. Perhaps he would give it all up for once and for all...for her, for them.
“Cecily, stop.”
“Relax, I said.”
“I don’t feel right. What is...what’s happening? His eyes flew open. He grabbed her arm so hard, she thought he might wrench it from the socket. “What did you do? God, Cecily, what did you do? You put something...in...my....”
His mouth went slack and like a leaf tumbling slowly to earth, his eyes closed. A tear fell onto his chest. She touched his face and whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I hope one day you’ll understand.”
Cecily picked up the phone in the room and dialed the number to a local cab company. “Yes, I need a taxi to pick me up at Pelican Perch Inn. Where am I going? To St. Louis.” A pause ensued. “How long will it take you to get here? Five minutes, great.” She listened while the man went through a series of questions. “Yes, I know how far St. Louis is from here, and yes, I know the fare is steep. I’ll make it worth your while if you get here in that five minutes you promised.”
She hung up the phone, grabbed her purse from the sideboard in the room and wrote a note to Marcel, leaving it on the tablet next to the phone.
Forgive me, Marcel. There was nothing you could have said or done to stop me.
* * *
Tha
nk goodness the driver asked few questions. Cecily spent her time booking a room at The Embassy Suites in downtown St. Louis and then ordered a vehicle from Budget Car Rental, insisting the car come equipped with GPS.
The driver’s voice drifted into the back seat? “Know where I’m dropping you off yet, Miss?”
Cecily glanced into his rearview mirror. “Yes, Budget Car Rental, 2925 Olive St.”
The man punched some numbers into his GPS and went back to driving.
She thought about all the places she had to go today and all the things she had to do before.... She couldn’t think about that now. She’d think about it when the time came. For now, she had to concentrate on buying boots, heavy trousers, a flashlight and a shirt. Why did it have to be so hot this time of year, especially in this part of the country? She thanked the stars above when she located a Goodwill Retail Outlet close to the hotel on Market Street. So far, so good.
She gave up on the idea of fire-crackers, but holy water wasn’t out of the question. After locating a Catholic parish close to the hotel, she jotted down the address. A few more loose ends to tie up and she’d be ready.
Before Cecily rested her head against the back of the seat, she asked the driver to wake her when they reached the outskirts of St. Louis. Her bones ached again, but she didn’t have the mental strength to acknowledge the omen.
Closing her eyes, she floated into dreamland, her last thoughts about Marcel.
* * *
Two hours later, Cecily parked the rental car in the parking lot and then checked into The Embassy Suites. A tall man with salt and pepper hair greeted her from behind the desk. “Welcome to The Embassy Suites. How might I help you?”
“Cecily Sizemore, I called earlier and booked a room.”
He shuffled some papers on the desk. “Yes, I have that right here, room 324. Will you be staying more than one night?”
“No, just tonight.”
“Let’s get you checked in, then.”
After showing him identification and charging the room to her VISA card, she questioned him about the town of Irondale. “Are you familiar with Irondale?
“Yes, ma’am. I live in Park Hills, an adjoining town.”
