by Ava Delany
“Brie—”
Her voice pitched higher, and the words flew out before she could stop them. “I’ve been trying so hard to be okay. I want to be brave for you. I really do. But I’m terrified out of my mind. What will I do if I lose you? I’ve wanted this for so long, waited for you forever. And it was you I was waiting for, you know? I know that now.” She pressed two fingers to her trembling lips, glancing at the wallpaper to avoid his gaze and the tears it might evoke. “It always seemed impossible. Like I’d end up alone. Now I’ve found you. I have you. So what if it’s not true? What if what we have is somebody’s sick joke at our expense? What if we aren’t really meant to be together, and the moment this stops, we become strangers? I don’t think I’m brave enough to risk that.”
“No.” He knelt, taking her hands in his. “No. I love you too, and it’s not because of some book. I felt wrong when I did those other things. Like someone was fitting me into a character I wasn’t. But not with you. I feel comfortable with you.”
She looked away, but he held her chin between his finger and thumb and brought her gaze back to his. “Does it feel strange to you?”
“Well it didn’t, but now I don’t know.” Hot tears blurred her vision. “Maybe we shouldn’t stop this thing. It’s wrong to suggest it, but I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t. What we…it’s all us, and it’s not going anywhere.”
He gathered her into his arms, and it seemed so right. She pressed into his embrace, arms and legs wrapping around him in a serpentine desire for contact.
God, it couldn’t be the last time they held each other. She couldn’t lose him.
Taking her time, she removed his clothes, savoring every inch of exposed skin. He did the same, and when the last item hit the floor, he lifted her into his arms. Holding her to his chest, skin pressed to skin, he carried her to the bed and set her on the soft comforter.
His lips trailed lazily from her neck, over her nipples, and down her ribcage. She arched her back, craving more as the moist tip circled her belly.
His breath brushed the skin of her lower belly, and she grabbed the comforter beneath her, twisting it in her fists.
“Does this feel natural?”
Waves of desire lapped at her skin, and the rising tide of her desire had her writhing. The moist coolness of his mouth met the heat between her legs, and she convulsed. He slipped a finger inside her, matching the thrusts of his tongue and building the storm inside her.
“Tell me,” he whispered against her.
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. The only thing she could do was to ride the waves of passion. She could arch, writhe, and thrust to meet his fingers and mouth.
“Tell me.” His firm tone made her quiver with need and helped her find her voice.
“Oh, yes.” Her fingers slid into his hair, needing more contact with his skin. “Yes, just don’t stop. I need you.”
He let out a deep moan, which rumbled up from his chest and added to her pleasure. She lifted her hips to his mouth and let the tempest inside wash her into a passionate climax.
Even as her body shook, he moved up the length of her and into her arms, filling her desperate need for contact, of their bodies—of their souls.
“The real truth is, we aren’t natural together,” he said, placing butterfly kisses along her cheek.
Brie drew back and met his gaze. “But—”
“No, we’re more than natural. We’re perfect for each other. Destined to be together. Just look at your flips. They’ve all led you to me. And after tonight, I won’t let you forget it. You won’t ever be able to deny it, and nothing will ever take it from us.” His narrowed eyes and ticking jaw belied the softness of his tone.
“You’re right.” She pressed a hand to his cheek, soothing the muscles. “You’re right.”
Ian spread her legs, moving between them. The warmth of his body and the strength of his words heated her skin and melted her heart. He held her gaze as he entered her, gentle and slow. Her hands explored his chest and face, but she focused on his eyes, not wanting to lose the intimate contact. She leaned up and kissed his jaw, breathing in his woody spice.
Brie couldn’t imagine smelling that scent and not wanting him, not loving him. Her eyes moistened, and she wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him down atop her. His heavy weight stole her breath, but she held him to her in spite of it. He kissed her neck, cheeks, and mouth, holding her tight. He continued his gentle pace, moving in and out as the storm inside her built again toward a hurricane.
His muscles rippled beneath her hands, and she moaned, lifting her legs over his hips. The tears burned her eyes. She fought them, even as she rotated her hips into his, her head thrown back. Need drove her as they kissed and caressed. She had to see him clearly. She wanted to make this moment count. To build something even the magic couldn’t sever. They cried out for release together, and in that instant, Brie knew she couldn’t lose him.
She let out a long breath. Her heart calmed, and she ran a hand over his hair. “I love you, Ian, and nothing will take it from me.”
Please let that be true.
Brie rested a hand against his rough whiskered cheek, trying to memorize his face. To force every curve, every line, every single inch into some place inside her where this thing couldn’t reach. To hide a small piece of her feelings where they would survive even the breaking of the spell. She wanted to do whatever she must to keep this man with her forever. But could they really be happy, if it meant the entire world had to pay for it?
<><><>
The twinge in Brie’s mind shocked her awake and with almost no warning, she flipped.
Andrea unlocked her front door, hoping for a nice meal while she finished the book. Her i-com rang. She hurried inside, dropped her identification card and the bag on the table, and jerked the i-com from her pocket.
“Hello?”
“Hello? Andrea Borne?”
“This is she. What can I do for you?”
The deep male voice hesitated before continuing in a melancholy tone, “You received an advanced reader copy of the latest Kingsley novel, right?”
The man on the other end of the i-com sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place the voice.
“Who’s this?” she asked.
The caller remained silent on the other end. She peeked at the ID box. Unknown. Did the man want to steal her signed first edition? It must happen, at least sometimes. She waited for his response for what felt to her like minutes before he finally spoke again, in a low annoyed tone this time.
“Last month, when you won the advanced copy, you agreed to read it, didn’t you? But you haven’t even finished it yet, have you?” He spoke faster, his voice rising.
“It came late—”
“You’ve had it for three days. You agreed to read it quickly and write the first review for the fan site. You agreed to this, didn’t you?”
“Well, I-”
“You’re next.” He cut her words off before she could finish.
“What?” She flinched.
“Finish the book! Tonight!”
The i-com clicked and went dead. She looked at it, stunned by the man’s rudeness and hostility. Was he someone from the fan club? She nearly ordered the call to the club so she could complain about his terrible manners, but she had agreed to finish the book early and turn in a review before the book’s release. Since the novel had already been released, she owed them their review. She would read the rest tonight and turn in the review tomorrow, first thing.
Brie’s consciousness slammed back into her body, and she twisted in Ian’s embrace. She shook him. He groaned and opened one eye, then pulled her closer, his body hard against her.
“I don’t want to hear anything about anything until I’ve had my morning Brie.” He chuckled and nipped at her neck.
“But Ian, I—” She broke off with a gasp when his teeth grazed the sensitive spot beneath her ear.
She couldn’t begrudge
him wanting to spend what could be their last moments together in bed. If they really were living the book as Andrea read it, then tonight it would all be over, for good or bad. They would win, or the evil would destroy them, and even if they won, they might not love each other afterward.
All they had was this moment. This moment and each other.
He stared down at her, his eyes darkening. She’d never before experienced the things this man made her feel. She bit her lip. It hadn’t taken intuition for her to know he was special. She hoped she made him feel the same way.
She spread her legs, holding her arms out to him. His smile fled, and he came over her. She grabbed at his back, needing his skin against hers. Lips pressed to his neck, she whispered, “Love me. Make the world go away. Even if only for a few minutes.”
Ian entered her, slow and steady. She didn’t fight the tears as she ran her palms over his chest and neck, pausing where his quickened pulse beat in his throat. His gaze met hers and held it, lifting his thumb to wipe at the rivulet. He thrust into her, stoking the low-burning ember of her desire. She leaned up and kissed him. His mouth lifted in a soft smile. His expression was so gentle and sweet. If only she could hold that smile in her heart forever.
Brie fell back on the bed, arms dropping to the pillow to each side of her head. He leaned forward onto his elbows and laced his fingers with hers. The heat of his gaze ignited the ember and passion roared to life inside her. He held her hands and moved inside her, staring into her eyes. Into her soul.
She undulated, a languid arching in time with him. His lips met hers in a gentle kiss. He didn’t try to deepen it, just stroked his lips over hers. The birds outside the window sang sweeter, and the morning light looked brighter than it had when she’d come out of her flip.
She increased her pace as the flame inside her built into a bonfire. His chest heaved and his movements came harder, faster. Blissful heat and electricity tingled through her, and she shuddered as it exploded inside her. She shook and arched, trying to draw him further into her. He let out a low moan and stiffened. He rubbed his nose against hers then pressed a soft kiss to her lips. In that moment, Brie wished she could stop time and just exist with him.
Ian rolled over, drawing her into his embrace. She rested her head on his shoulder, the world intruding, inch by inch, into their paradise. How could she tell him what she’d seen? Her chest hollowed at the center. How could she ruin this moment?
He broke the silence. “You saw something, didn’t you?”
She tried to hold onto the bliss, but the void in her chest swallowed it, regurgitating more numbness inside her. “It ends tonight.”
“What do you mean?” Ian rolled on his side, propping his head on his palm. “What happened this morning? It took you a while to relax and get into things.”
“I flipped when I woke. I ended up in the woman again.” Brie sat up, folding her legs beneath her. “I think she’s the catalyst. She reads the chapters, and we experience things. That’s why you don’t always see the creature. When she doesn’t read, we are on our own, so to speak.”
“Seriously? You mean some woman is reading us to death?” His smile faded when she didn’t return it. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Someone called her and told her to finish by tonight, and she intends to. It means we’ll experience chapters nine and on to the end tonight. We have to be prepared for what’s going to come, fast and hard. Today.”
Chapter Nine
Brie clasped her trembling hands and focused, trying to call on the tingling intuition. The fear in her heart made it impossible to focus—let it take her over. Ian sat across from her peering waitress to waitress as though they would announce themselves to be the right one should he meet their eye. She wondered if they had any hope of finding the right one, with her gift on the fritz.
She couldn’t get past thinking this would be the end if she used her intuition. That they would find the girl, and in turn the author, and then they would no longer have each other. Their love would vanish like the stars at dawn.
She leaned in. “We’re in the right café. I can feel it, but even if it is the right café, the waitress could be off today. Or she could have quit a long time ago.”
“The descriptions of Dean and Brittany in Cold Terror match the way we look. Hopefully the woman in Night Stalker will look like her character too.”
“Only if our suspicions are correct.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “It doesn’t seem real. People don’t live suspense novels, and books don’t write themselves.”
“Insane and illogical, yes,” he said, his palm covering her clasped hands, “but it’s happening. I doubted it for too long, and you see the damage it has done as well as I do. We have to try to stop it.”
Ian was right. It was obvious he was right. It didn’t make it any easier though. He stared at another waitress while she passed, then, when she didn’t respond, he shoved a hand through his hair.
“I feel like we’re chasing geese here. We should have started by linking the author’s address.”
Brie shook her head. “No, we never could have found his address through the mobile link, and if we did, what would we say? Excuse me sir.” She lowered her voice in a mock formal tone, and it made him smile. She’d do anything to make him smile. “I’m taking a poll for the census. Did you get in a fight with Ian Connor and put some sort of voodoo curse on him and then write about it in your latest book?”
Ian wiggled his fingers between her clasped hands and squeezed. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”
A small blond waitress stepped from the back, her short hair pinned into a little bun. She fit the physical description in the book. She walked to the table and pulled a pen from behind her ear.
”What can I get you?” She glanced at the door to the back room where the kitchen stood, hidden by a swinging door. Brie and Ian ordered coffees, and the woman moved to the kitchen watching the front door.
“It could be her. Plus, the girl in the book is Sherrie, and her name is Shawna. It could be her.” The excitement sounded in his tone and wrote itself across his face. He was the faithful PI who must solve the case, and she, his girl Friday. Her heart lurched.
He smiled at her and leaned across the table for a kiss. Then he frowned.
“You’re amazing in every way, Brie. I’m dumbfounded. Even in this dire situation, you still stop me with your beauty. I expected to be peeking over my shoulder for the claws and eyes constantly. To be haunted every step of the way. From our very first i-com link, you weren’t what I expected.” He shook his head, his eyes soft. “None of your actions or responses were predictable. I think it’s what I like most about you. You’re perfect, quirks and all.”
She blinked rapidly, swallowing hard.
“She looks like her too,” her voice was thick, even to her own ears. “And the way she keeps watching the door—”
“It’s going to be okay.” He brought her hands to his lips. “It’s all right.”
The girl returned carrying their coffee and set it on the table. Brie closed her eyes.
“Ready to order?”
Ian smiled in his most charming way. “Can we speak to you for a moment?”
The waitress gaped at the two of them as though they had just asked for a knife to stab her.
“Hey, mister,” she said, “I’m a waitress. I’m here to bring you food and that’s all. I’m not going to talk to the press. Now, can I take your order, or are you leaving?”
He’d overplayed his hand. Brie cringed, but she knew they had to continue, even if it meant scaring her off.
“Listen, I think I may know who your stalker was. I know you stabbed him and left him by the ocean. I also know they never found the body, and I know why.”
Brie bit her lip as he swung his hammer of words. Droplets of sweat broke out on the waitress’s forehead and upper lip.
“Who are you?” She started to fidget, right foot to left, as though she were about to sp
rint off.
Brie had to do something to stop her before she really did run. “We think we’re being stalked by the same person, and we need some answers, or he’ll just keep on hurting people.”
The words seemed to break through the woman’s terror. She stopped fidgeting, and her gaze flew from Ian to Brie. Her stiff shoulders relaxed, but only an inch. She obviously still feared the stalker.
“Okay, I have a break coming up in about fifteen minutes. I’ll talk to you then, but with one stipulation. We have to stay in the restaurant, and as soon as we’re done, you leave and never come back.”
Her voice had lowered to a whisper but they understood perfectly. She worried they were endangering her by coming and wanted them to leave; the sooner, the better.
Fifteen minutes later, Shawna sat at their table with a cup of coffee and a nervous stare.
“Have you ever met Donald Kingsley? He writes suspense novels.”
Shawna squinted, seeming a bit confused and annoyed. Her leg shook convulsively, and she glanced at the door once again.
“Yeah, I met him when he came in here for lunch. He’s not my stalker, if that’s what you’re going to tell me.”
The defiance in her voice told Brie, either the woman was in love, or she thought him incapable of anything so terrible.
“We need you to answer our questions. Then we can tell you who stalked you,” Brie said.
“Okay, but if this gets too personal, I’m outta here.”
Brie agreed, and Shawna continued shaking her leg so hard it made the table vibrate.
“He’s charming and funny. When he asked me out, I thought it might be fun. After all, I’d never dated anyone famous before.” She ran a finger along the rim of her coffee cup. “Come to think of it, after a few months I did notice a weird quality. He had quick temper and acted bizarre sometimes.”
