Burning Darkness

by Jaime Rush

  “We have to. He’s hurt enough people. Enough children. Seeing those pictures . . .”

  He pulled her against him and rubbed her arm. She looked up and saw a severe look on his face. “We’ll stop him.”

  ***

  Neil called Malcolm from a safe distance, watching smoke billow up into the sky. “I’ve run into a difficulty.”

  “Would that be why I hear sirens in the background?” he asked, his voice terse.

  “I had three of them, one a surprise Offspring named Sayre, Lucas Vanderwyck’s twin.” He filled Malcolm in on the experiment, and how Eric Aruda hadn’t succumbed to the Essence. “I thought the Essence would affect them differently, because they already had it in them. What their parents got was a purer form, which didn’t have the immediate effect of insanity. Sayre went within minutes, but Eric had enough wherewithal to pretend he’d succumbed. He and the girl escaped, and he set the building on fire. I’ve masked it so the firefighters will only see an open field.”

  “Did you get the Essence out?”

  “Yes. When I couldn’t catch up to the two, I ran back and retrieved it. We’re still set for our next experiment, except Fonda’s soul was there when I spoke to you about it. The pictures, map, everything. I’m not sure how much she could hear or see.”

  “It’s time to shift our focus. I wasn’t fond of infecting the village so soon after the cult.”

  “It would have looked like the cult’s massacre set someone off in the village. It happens, one spree shooter hits the news and then there’s another.” The more chaos they created, the more he craved. It was like a drug.

  “We’ll put it off for another week,” Malcolm said. “If Aruda and Raine know about the plan, they’ll probably try to stop you. Or kill you. Either way, they’ll be at the hangar. This time, take care of them any way you have to. Explode their bodies like you enjoy so much, as long as no one is around. But get rid of them now.” He heard Malcolm’s teeth grinding together.

  “That was what I was going to suggest. Any luck finding the others?”

  “Yes, finally. Every spare minute I have, I’ve been working on the shield that’s present at the gallery location.” That’s how they knew the Offspring were there. No need to protect the gallery otherwise. “It’s beginning to weaken. I’ve got a press conference to attend this afternoon, and then I’ll be able to spend more time on it. I’ll see what’s there, and more importantly, who’s there. The blueprints for the gallery were delivered here this morning, but some moron has misplaced or misdirected them. The pieces are coming together. I’ll breathe a lot easier knowing this situation has been taken care of.”

  “Me, too.”

  Neil disconnected. He had to admit, though, these Offspring were a challenge. He’d been so very disappointed when Eric hadn’t torn into Fonda. What a delight that would have been to watch. There were other ways to destroy them, though. The thought of exploding them, something he hadn’t done in many, many years, sent a thrill through him. Messy, but well worth the clean-up.

  Chapter 22

  Eric and Fonda found another small motel just off the main road, but this one looked quaint, each unit painted a different color, with a small porch and two chairs. “Stay here,” he said. “I’ll get us checked in.”

  She put her hand on his shoulder. “I’d better go. You look like you were stomped by a herd of elephants.”

  He looked down at himself, clothing torn, bloodied. “Good point.”

  She checked in and got the room at the end. He grabbed both bags and they went inside. The owner obviously took pride in his establishment, as the room was clean and painted bright yellow, with a queen-sized bed covered in a quilt.

  Fonda locked the door and threw herself at Eric, and everything she’d been holding in for the last hour gushed out. “You tried to bargain for my life with yours. You were going to throw your life away, suffer unimaginable torture, to get him to release me.”

  He rubbed her back. “It was worth a shot. But it didn’t w—”

  “Eric, look what you did!” She ran her fingers through her hair and leaned back to look at him. “My God, who does that? I mean, I know you’ll risk your life to save mine, but you offered your life to . . . to . . .” Her voice was trembling, her eyes filling with tears.

  He wiped them away. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

  She buried her face against him, her fingers twisting in his shirt and not gripping him because she didn’t want to hurt him. She couldn’t get her head around it. Always, those words would pound through her head, her heart.

  He kissed the top of her head. What he did to her, whether it was throwing himself on the fire for her or something tender like that gesture.

  “You’re just in shock, from everything,” he said. He tilted her face up to his. “Come on, let’s get a shower.” He took her hand and led her to the bathroom.

  She nodded. Let us? He let go of her to lean in and start the shower, and she stripped out of her clothes. He turned to find her standing there naked, and the fire in his eyes flared.

  “Together,” she said, her heart thumping pleasantly in her chest.

  He nodded, a smile coloring his expression. “Together.”

  She stepped closer to him and unbuttoned the ruined shirt, flinging it toward the waste can. He relaxed his arms and let her unbutton his jeans and push them down his legs. He stepped out of them and kicked them aside. Bruises, scratches, and dried blood marred his beautiful body. All to save her. She took his cut hand and kissed along the edge of it. A ragged breath came out of her, and he tilted her chin up so she was looking into his eyes.

  “Don’t blame yourself,” he said. “Coming for you was my choice. And it wasn’t a hard one. I’ll be fine.”

  She nodded, but those words didn’t soften the impact of what he’d done. She took his hand and led him into the shower. It barely fit them both.

  She opened the soap and grabbed a washcloth from the towel bar. After lathering up, she washed him, being gentle over the damaged areas, smiling as his fingers tensed when she concentrated on other, more interesting areas. She trailed her fingers after the cloth, wanting to feel his skin, the sprinkling of hairs on his body, the curves and dips of his muscles. She leaned close, kissing his chest as the water ran down over her face. She’d almost lost him, lost the chance to touch him again.

  He took the cloth, rinsed and lathered it, and washed her. He took her in, every inch, cleaning her as a man might wax his most precious car. She was instantly back in bed with him the night before, his hands on her body, fingers sliding between her folds as he gently cleaned without the cloth.

  “So these are the infamous tattoos,” he said with a grin, running his finger over the black kitten on her left hip, sweet, with huge doe eyes. The one on her right hip had narrowed eyes, claws glistening at the razor tips.

  “The two sides of me.” She turned to show him the one above her right butt cheek: a fairy with black wings and a pissed-off I’m going to get you expression on her beautiful face.

  His hands slid over her bottom, taking his time stroking up and down. “I sense a theme here.”

  She laughed, but her smile faded. “Like you said about the flames having that allure, but not anymore. I used to love being angry. It’s not an easy way to be.”

  He shook his head, looking as though he totally understood. “It becomes comfortable.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Seems pointless, really.”

  Then he stepped back and lifted her foot onto his bent leg, washing her thigh, knee, calf, and even between her toes.

  The pressure was building inside her as he lovingly tended to her other leg, and then he poured shampoo on her head and massaged it through her scalp. She closed her eyes and sank into the sensation, letting out an “Mmmmm.”

  “Tell me no one’s ever washed your hair before,” he said.

  She looked at him, and he wasn’t teasing. “Except my hairdresser, no one’s ever washed my hair lik
e this. My hairdresser’s cute, but he’s never been naked.”

  He smiled then, tilted her head back and let the water rinse out the soap. Once she’d squeegeed the water from her hair with her fingers, she stepped onto the edge of the tub and poured shampoo from the bottle into her hands.

  “How about you?” She didn’t want to hear how some other woman had done this to him before. So why’d you ask, dummy?

  “Nope, never taken a shower with a woman.”

  She understood the smile he’d had on his face. “Any sore spots on your head?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She gently scraped her fingernails across his scalp, eliciting that same sound from him. He had thick hair, the color of a field of wheat, and it felt silky beneath her fingers as the water rinsed out the soap. He turned and wrapped his arms around her, turning her back into the stream of water, letting her body slide down his until they were face-to-face, and then he kissed her crazy.

  When she could barely breathe, he stepped out of the stream.

  “You said we made love last night,” he said.

  Her cheeks fired hot. “Oh . . . that. I thought you were going to die. It doesn’t count.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, it wasn’t a dream. We made love. I was lying next to you because you were so cold, and you wrapped your body around mine, and then you kissed me and touched me, and I thought maybe I could reach you, that I could get you to come back.” Her mouth quirked. “You did come, but you didn’t come back. Am I the most terrible person in the world for taking advantage of you?”

  His expression was serious. “Awful.”

  “You’re mad? Disgusted?”

  “Both. Very.” Then the corner of his mouth twitched. Twitched again. Then the laugh exploded. He tilted his head back, his whole body shaking, his arms tightening around her to keep her from sliding down.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Finally, he composed himself and looked at her. “The best sex in my life, and you’re worried that you took advantage of me? No, baby, you can attack me any time, awake or not.”

  He kissed her again, sweeping his tongue into her mouth. He’d called her “baby.” What did that mean? Should she tell him that he’d said he loved her? Just the thought of opening that subject made that huge, scary shadow move closer. No, not yet.

  “We . . . we didn’t use anything,” she felt compelled to say. “I won’t get pregnant, and I don’t have anything, but if you want to use a condom—”

  He kept kissing her. “I’m clean.”

  She slid down a little farther, feeling the tip of his penis pressing against her opening. He held on tight, and she maneuvered onto him, feeling that rush once again as he filled her. He sucked in a breath, his head rocked back, eyes closed.

  “I can’t believe this didn’t bring me back,” he said in a hoarse voice. “But I promise you, I enjoyed every second of it.” He looked at her as she moved against him, clinging to his shoulders because looking at him while he was inside her felt too . . . something. She wove her fingers into his hair, kissing his neck, loving the feel of her breasts brushing against him.

  He moaned, his fingers tightening on her back. She was caught up in their movements, in the build of pressure that swirled through her body. Her breath came in quick gasps, and his moans got louder, echoing off the tiles, making that pressure build even more. He was enjoying it, and he wasn’t shy about letting her—and the rest of the motel—know. That was why she’d requested the end unit.

  She’d never made noise before, but gasping, yelping sounds came out of her mouth as her orgasm built, built, and then burst out. She arched, trying to catch her breath, feeling dizzy with it all. He jerked, and she felt him throbbing inside her as his body spasmed again and again. He, too, was having trouble catching his breath.

  He leaned back to look at her, a flushed smile on his face.

  “It’s much nicer when you’re awake,” she said with a wicked grin.

  “Let’s continue this in a better place.”

  “Continue?”

  He gave her a pointed look. “Uh, we’re not done.”

  But they’d made love. He’d gotten off. It was always over after that.

  He set her on her feet, and she stood beneath the spray of water for a minute. She cut the water, and they stepped out of the shower and dried off. He swept her back into his arms and walked into the room.

  “Carrying you like this is also nicer when you’re awake,” he said.

  He threw off the quilt, laid her down on the bed and kissed her. He was looking at her, his eyes filled with awe as his hands skimmed over her wet skin.

  “Yes, this is so much better when I’m awake,” he said between kisses. “That was torture, feeling you, and yet not feeling you.” He looked at her. “You are absolutely beautiful.”

  “So are you.”

  He glanced down. “I’m a wreck.”

  “A beautiful wreck.”

  He chuckled and kissed her mouth, then that place beneath her ear, murmuring, “This is my favorite place—well, my favorite nonerotic place—on a woman’s body.”

  Chills washed over her as he kissed and licked down the side of her neck, trailing down to lavish attention on her breasts and then down her stomach. When he nuzzled her pubic hair, the growing discomfort shot her to a sitting position.

  “What are you doing?”

  He gave her one of those Duh looks. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “Why? I mean, we’ve already . . . you know, and you don’t have to do that.”

  “I know I don’t ‘have’ to do it. I want to. Sex isn’t just about the penetration. I mean, yeah, that’s a great part of it, but it’s also about pleasuring each other, on and on, for hours on end until we’re so exhausted and sated we can’t move.”

  His words tantalized her and scared her because she wanted what he was talking about. She pulled her legs up, and he set his chin on his hands, studying her.

  She said, “It’s about sex, the act, and then it’s over.”

  He reached out and clamped a hand on her leg. “Maybe for some guys. Not for me. Not with you.” He tugged on her leg as though to pull her back down.

  She held strong. “No, it’s okay. I like it that way.” With you. What did that mean?

  “You like wham, bam, thank you, ma’am? Or sir, rather?”

  “I’m comfortable with that.”

  “Doing other things isn’t comfortable?” His fingers trailed up her inner thigh, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Like this?” His hand went higher. “Or this?”

  She shifted away from him. “What’s wrong with the sex part? Isn’t that the best part, the most important part?”

  His gleam dulled, his mouth twisting in a frown. “Is that how you feel?”

  She nodded.

  “You don’t like oral sex?”

  She shook her head so hard it made her dizzy. The thought of opening herself, even to Eric . . . no way.

  “Have you ever had it done to you?”

  “I’ve given it. It’s okay, I don’t mind. But receiving it . . .” She shook her head.

  He sat up and tilted his head at her, and she felt like a specimen. She’d been there before, of course, though Jerryl had only offered to do it once. After she demurred, he dropped it. She hoped Eric would, too.

  Dumb thought.

  “You’ve never had someone go down on you?” he asked again, incredulous.

  She shook her head again, this time careful not to be too exuberant. “It’s just not my thing.” She didn’t want him to think she was some kind of prude, so she got to her knees and pushed him back, climbing on top of him. Men were incredibly easy to distract when it came to their penises, so she knew the subject would soon be dropped.

  He was still as hard as he’d been before. She kissed and nipped at the places that weren’t bruised, loving the brush of her lips against his skin. His breath came faster, deeper, as she moved over h
is body, licking at his nipples while her hands roamed across his pelvis. When she took him into her mouth, she knew she’d succeeded.

  And she found it was more than okay. With Eric, she actually liked it, liked making him groan and arch and flex his toes. When he jerked in orgasm, it was dry since he’d already come.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her down to the bed, pinning her at her waist and kissing her thighs.

  She wiggled and squirmed, and finally he stopped. “It’s more than that you don’t like it. You said you were uncomfortable, which is different than it not being ‘your thing.’ Uncomfortable is inside stuff. Why? You trust me, don’t you? I mean, if you can’t trust me by now—”

  “I trust you like I’ve never trusted anyone.”

  Those words made him smile. “Good. Then . . . why?”

  She scooted back against the white metal headboard and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” She felt like a gawky teenager, and she didn’t like it one bit.

  He braced himself in front of her. “Uh-uh. After everything we’ve been through, good and bad, you don’t get away with telling me that.”

  She liked the anger that flared inside her. “You think because we had sex that you own me?”

  “First off, I’ve had sex with women before, and I’ve never felt like I owned them. I feel like I possess you and you possess me, and though I don’t know exactly what it means, it’s a totally different feeling. Second, help me to figure out why you’re acting the way women always accuse men of acting after sex.”

  The word “possess” and the way he said it, emphasized it, with his eyes sparking . . . good Lord, he’d deflated her anger completely.

  He said, “Whoever you were with in the past treated sex as just a way to get off. Am I right?”

  She shrugged, then nodded. Jerryl couldn’t get out of bed fast enough, his mind already back on work, on hunting. When she complained once, he said sex fired him up. So much for the afterglow.

  Eric got to his hands and knees, hovering in her face. “Forget that. For me, sex is an experience, mind, body, and soul. I am in the moment, and the only thing on my mind is the woman I’m with, pleasuring her, and making it last as long as possible. Not just the sex part, but everything. I want to enjoy her body, every inch of it, I want to watch her react to everything I do to her. I don’t want it to end.”