by Rena Marks
“Offends? He tried to kill me. So he’s not dead?” Sara asked, puzzled. “Then where is he?”
Beau answered. “I would have told you earlier if I’d suspected you were thinking that. Aric mind-zapped him and your Mattie, who actually was planning to steal your business just as Aric suggested to the police. She didn’t know that Mike was planning to kill you that day in your apartment, though.”
“The officers will obtain a search warrant, as I suggested into their minds,” Aric said. “They will find Mike hiding out in her apartment, alive and well, remembering a love relationship with Mattie that she will verify, neither one aware of the implanted memories. Of course, people at your work will be surprised, knowing his orientation, but they will all assume that he and Mattie planned this from the beginning. He’ll be arrested for staging his death in order to get you arrested so Mattie could reintroduce him as the new psychic in town, stealing your business. She will be arrested as his accomplice.”
“And no one’s dead,” Sara said slowly. “What else am I missing out on?”
“What do you mean?” Beau asked.
“If I had remembered my past life, I wouldn’t have been taken in by Mike. If I knew more about it, I would have been more wary of him as a danger. I think I should probably delve into it.”
“I don’t think so,” Beau said, looking quickly at Aric. “Obviously, it wasn’t pleasant or we wouldn’t be where we are now. Mike’s done, he won’t harm you any longer.”
“But how do we know there’s no other dangers?” she asked.
“Sweet, Beau and I were there, remember? You’re in no other danger. Forget the past and let’s go on from the present.”
“Are you sure? You don’t think anything else is important?”
“Nothing else is that important.” Beau smiled reassuringly. “The most incredible thing is that we found you and we’re slowly managing to work things out. One day at a time.” Beau kissed her temple as he spoke and she thought she saw him catch Aric’s eye right before he leaned in. She passed it off as the unusual feelings between the three of them right now.
But he was right. One day at a time was all she could hope for at this moment.
“This is an extremely difficult situation, isn’t it?” Sara asked, watching Aric’s face as Beau pressed more kisses to her skin.
“Maybe we’ll get used to it in time,” Aric said.
As a group, the three of them leaned back against the sofa, Beau’s head tilted onto hers and Aric’s arm around her shoulders.
“What do you and Beau spend so much time discussing?” Sara asked.
“How much information you should know about the past and how much could be detrimental should you be told.”
“Shouldn’t I have a say in these discussions then? Since they’re about me?”
Beau answered instead. Playfully, he nuzzled her throat. “If we wanted you to have an opinion, we would have told you about our talks,” he laughed, his tongue reaching out to taste her sweet skin.
“Knock it off,” Aric growled.
Talk about role reversal.
“Aric, are you hungry?” she asked, realizing that he was upset with Beau’s face at her throat.
He acknowledged with the slightest inclination of his head. “I have not fed today.”
“I don’t mind if you need to,” Beau said quietly.
“You’re sure?” Aric asked, seeking Beau’s eyes.
“Shouldn’t I be asked?” Sara said.
“Like you’d refuse me,” Aric answered, his lips curving against her cheek. “Feel like trying something new?” The look in his eyes was dark and sultry, as if he knew secrets that she didn’t.
“What is it?” she asked, breathless from his look.
“Let me watch you kiss Beau, Sara. Make it good. Give me a show.”
Beau wasn’t protesting, so Sara gently pulled his handsome face toward hers. His blue eyes slowly closed as he leaned in and their lips met.
When his tongue reached to meet hers, Sara opened her mouth and the intake of breath near her ear let her know that Aric watched intently.
Then, Aric reached around to unbutton a couple of the top buttons on her shirt, enough so that he could pull it from her shoulder.
He strung kisses along the bared flesh, her smooth skin as soft as the feel of his lips.
Sara twined her tongue with Beau’s and this time his kisses were soft instead of hard, as they had been earlier.
Just as she was enjoying the kiss, Aric pierced her neck and the need to feed him burned hotly through her veins.
The sensations were like nothing else on this earth.
She broke away from Beau long enough to mutter, “Oh my God.”
Beau plundered her mouth again. The sensations evoked from the feeding were indescribable. Sharing life was the best way to describe it. Sara had never given birth, but she imagined this was how a woman felt creating life. Or delivering life. Knowing that another needed her so desperately that survival depended upon the force flowing through her veins. It was even more incredible to know that the person depending upon her was so deeply loved by her.
Then the feeding changed. Aric’s emotions flooded through her open veins. Unconditional love, affection and untempered lust. Centuries of lust, quenched by no other, because no one else would ever do but her.
It was getting harder to breathe, but she gasped her need for air, refusing to allow Beau to leave her. And he didn’t.
The kiss connected them as never before, cementing their relationship, although it was already previously sealed.
She felt Aric’s intense feelings and knew his gentle sucks were nearing an end. Sorrow filled her and then his assurance that this would not be their only feeding swept through her.
But would it be their only session with Beau included? she wondered. The answered drifted immediately from Beau.
I could never bring myself to deny your wishes.
Aric removed the warmth of his mouth and began to slowly lick at the sensitive pinpricks at her neck.
Beau finally lifted his mouth from hers and whispered, “Are you okay?”
Her body was languid, her eyelids fluttering. “Mmm.”
His lips curved. “Relaxed, baby?”
“You have no idea.”
Aric still soothingly passed his tongue along her flesh.
“I do have an idea,” Beau said.
“You felt it?” she asked, her lazy eyes wide now with amazement.
“Yeah,” he said, kissing her forehead gently. “Everything.”
Aric pulled away from her neck and Beau glanced up at him. “Thanks,” he said.
Aric was silent and Sara couldn’t see behind her to watch his expression. From Beau’s look, however, it was a sort of magical truce between the two of them.
The silence continued and Beau faced her, his head resting on the sofa. Aric held her from behind and they relaxed into the comfortable space that needed no other speech.
Aric was the one to break the quiet.
“Enough time has passed that the officers should be well on their way. I will return home. Tomorrow night, Sara.” He turned her and kissed her possessively.
“Take my car,” Beau said. “When you send your limo for Sara, I’ll come along and drive my own car to work from your place.” He tossed his keys at Aric and Sara made her way back upstairs while they continued to talk.
* * * * *
Beau and Sara arrived at Aric’s before Beau had to leave for work. Francesca was in the hall waiting for Sara.
“Where’s Raphael?” Sara asked.
“Downstairs packing. We leave tonight when the sun goes down. We were waiting for you to return.”
“Packing? You’re leaving so soon?”
“Just for a little while. It was already scheduled. But we’re coming right back, for you and I have so much to catch up on. Aric and Rafe are downstairs.”
“Bye, Beau,” Sara said, kissing him soundly.
“Bye, love.”
“I’ll see him out.” Francesca smiled.
When Sara was gone she turned again to look at Beau, her smile wiped from her face. “You won’t hurt her again?”
“Of course not.”
“I’m looking out for her.”
“Mind your own business.”
“She is my business, Beau. She was always my business.”
“I think I liked you better when you were human.”
Francesca blinked and the transformation was instantaneous. Her lips reddened and her lashes were longer and fuller. She became a femme fatale and she leaned forward, her breasts tauntingly close.
“You did. But I am no longer human.”
“And I am no longer interested.”
Francesca smiled. “Then you have no idea of what you’re missing out on, wolf.”
Chapter Eleven
Sara decided she’d head downtown and do some shopping. Raphael and Francesca had left, Beau was at work and Aric was still resting. Or dead. She was too new to the situation to know how they worded it, but she knew enough to know he didn’t sleep.
She poked her head in the antique shop when she saw the jewelry from the display window. Loads and loads of old, heavy jewelry. Some of it was old gypsy designs, making her wonder what happened to the decrepit old witch in the marketplace. Fingering an ancient brooch, Sara was startled when a voice cackled nearby.
“Are ye ready yet, dearie?”
It was the same old woman. The one who disappeared instantly, along with her tent. Alarm made Sara’s heart race, but curiosity made her cock her head to listen.
“If yer ready to learn about the past, I can help ye.”
“How?” Sara asked warily.
“Ye find out where yer previous body was buried. It doesn’t have to be exact, we won’t be digging ye up. We’ll just use the area to send ye into a vision of the past and ye can relive the whole thing, not bits and pieces. Ye’ll see the why of what happened and ye can make different decisions now.”
“How will I find out where I was buried when I don’t even know who I was?”
“Ask the Others,” the old woman said and her voice was eerie the way she stressed others. “Call me when ye discover the whereabouts.”
“How will I call you?”
“The way ye did today, dearie.”
Sara blinked, wondering how the old crone knew she had thought of her earlier and in that blink of an eye, the woman was gone again.
“Miss? Are you all right?”
“The woman I was talking to. Did you see her?”
The store manager looked puzzled. “You’ve been alone this entire time.”
“No, there was an old woman.”
“There’s been no one else here but you.”
He was shaking his head emphatically, then took pity on her when he noticed how distressed she appeared. “Come into my office. You can see the videotapes of the store.”
She followed him and waited while he ejected a tape and popped it into a monitor screen. The movements of the tape ran at fast-forward, showing Sara quickly enter the store, casually pick up jewelry, study it, return it and move on, repeating the same cycle until the store clerk approached her.
Nowhere was there an old witch visit, or another client in the store.
Sara left the shop without a single purchase, quickly unlocking her car and sitting in it. Nervously, she dropped her keys twice before getting them into the ignition.
She rested her head on the steering wheel, taking in deep breaths.
Was the old woman real? Was she a witch? A figment of her imagination? Why did she so desperately want Sara to find out her past?
Maybe she needed to research it, despite what Beau and Aric thought. Maybe then she could stop herself from “psychically” calling for help.
But how would she go about it? Sara snapped her head up quickly, a dark lock of red hair brushing over her cheek. She brushed it aside.
Okay, she only had to find her remains, the general vicinity and the witch would train her to use her psychic abilities to relive her lifetime so long ago. Or, the end of her lifetime, as the case may be.
She couldn’t ask Beau and Aric. They would turn all manly, question her and demand that she stay away from the gypsy/witch without giving her any answers at all.
She’d have to do it her way. She was a young resourceful woman. She could figure this out. Aric still slept, so she revved up the engine of her car and pulled from the parking lot.
Sara headed for the town library.
The building was in desperate need of remodeling. It was dark and depressing, books lining every available space.
The carpet was old and the air was stale, the scent of musty old paper hitting her senses. Wrinkling her nose in repugnance, she tried not to breathe too deeply, afraid the pungent odor would permeate her every cell.
She stood, lost and looking around, trying to gather her bearings as she pondered where to begin.
“May I help you?”
A thin, bookish man dressed in a beige nondescript cardigan and slacks stood behind the main desk, thick round glasses perched on his nose. He was balding and looked ten years older than the building itself.
“Genealogy research,” Sara said, her most charming smile plastered on her face. “I don’t know where to begin.”
He nodded and came around the desk. “Downstairs, then.” He grabbed a key on a ring and walked her around a corner to a small hallway. At the end of the hallway was a door revealing a narrow flight of stairs. The naked light bulb hanging in the hallway was yellowed with filth and barely any useable light emanated from it through the dank halls.
“Watch your step,” he muttered and Sara briefly wondered how to do that.
At the bottom of the stairs, he unlocked the door to another room. Heavy old wooden tables were in the center and thick, large books the size of encyclopedias were shelved along the walls.
“Who are you researching?”
Truth be known, Sara had no idea. But when confronted with such a simple direct question, her psychic mind reeled in thought as she stared blankly at him.
“A nun,” she said suddenly and had no idea why. Oh, well, it was a starting point and once she was started, the librarian would leave her to it.
“Church records, then. Over here.” He motioned. “I’ll be upstairs if you need anything else.”
Sara nodded, distracted. Her mind was already on the records.
An hour later, Sara found what she was looking for. There was even a description of the woman and oddly, it also described her.
It had to be her. Seraphina Samorra, pledged to the church. A nun.
Could she have been a nun? She’d heard Beau and Aric refer to her as Seraphina, even though her name was Sara now. She hadn’t thought a whole lot about it and wondered at how stupid she could be.
It was similar enough to forget and slip into the past, calling her Seraphina as though that were her full name now.
Perhaps her brain refused to see what was in front of it? Perhaps that safeguard was there for a reason? It would be too easy to decipher a previous existence if people’s brains allowed them to see the patterns.
Sara nearly slapped her forehead. The nickname Serra wasn’t from a heavy accent, it was short for Seraphina.
She read on. Seraphina was controversial. She wanted the church to allow nuns to marry. Besides that, it appeared the biggest scandal was after her death. The priest’s refusal to allow her to be buried on church grounds.
Why would that cause a controversy? Sara flipped to the next page. Her name was not listed as being buried where she had lived. The church grounds, where every other nun at that time had been laid to rest.
Dead end. She would never be able to locate her remains and use them to recall her previous existence. If she wasn’t buried on church grounds as she should have been, where could she be? And why would the priest refuse it?
She saw another book that lay for
gotten on the corner of the huge table. Genealogy research, a basic how-to. Her mind racing wildly, she flipped blindly through the pages.
Then she inhaled deeply, almost unconsciously. Her head rolled back and the center of her midsection, the sensitive psychic area, sensed a page.
She indexed down to church records. Flipping open to the page, she trailed her finger down the words to find something to catch her eye regarding burials.
Church refusals.
A person may be refused a church burial for the following reasons:
Suicide.
Bingo. That was it.
And that was what Mike was trying to trick her into again. She wouldn’t have broken the cycle at all. She would have perpetuated it.
There was too much air in her lungs and she exhaled it shakily. Deep down she knew, sure as the day was long.
She’d taken her own life.
Sara sat and stared at the massive, ancient books before her, not really seeing.
Eventually the librarian made his way to her, the round bookish glasses slipping even further on his nose.
“Is there anything I can help with? We’re about to close up.”
Sara was snapped out of her reverie. “No, I’m done. Thank you.”
The books were returned to the shelves and she stood, suddenly feeling extremely tired and very old. As old as Beau, Aric, Raphael and Francesca.
She wanted to confide in Francesca. Of course, Francesca knew what happened, but Sara wanted to tell her that she’d just found out for herself. She wanted her best friend. Not a lover, just her friend.
God, please let her not be Seraphina Samorra, the woman from her dreams. Panicked, she thought again of confiding in Francesca.
That was a good sign, she thought, amazed. They were truly on their way to being best friends again.
Too bad her best friend lived in Romania.
By the time she arrived home, Sara had taken control of her situation. So what if Francesca lived in another country? She was her best friend, wasn’t she? Hell, she’d call her. Why not?
She placed the international cell phone call and was startled at the shot of warmth that hit her when Francesca’s voice murmured hello. Just as she remembered, sexy and sultry and for her, comforting.
