by Tina Donahue
She gave in to passion and suckled Gabe’s neck, relishing his heat, taste, and scent.
After a few minutes, he stopped moving and whispered, “Are you giving me a hickey?”
Constance bit his neck gently before easing away. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ll take a selfie later so I can brag to the guys.”
She laughed so loudly the elderly couple next to them stared.
Burying her face in Gabe’s shoulder, Constance continued to snicker and then suddenly felt as if she might cry. Her damn feelings were all over the place. A little more of this and she’d be certifiable. She held him even tighter.
Gabe responded by prying her off him. When Constance stared in surprise, he smiled. “Our table’s ready. They just called my name.”
They had?
Hand in hand, they followed the server, who wove expertly past the tables and crowd and didn’t collide with any of them. Constance wasn’t as lucky. She bumped into someone who grabbed her wrist.
Stopped at the icy grip, she came face-to-face with a vamp she’d treated at the service.
He smiled. “I thought it was you.”
Her appetizer threatened to come up until she noticed he wasn’t sporting fangs. However, he was glancing past her, no doubt at Gabe.
Crap. What now? “Hi,” she said quickly to the vamp. “Nice to see you again.” Please don’t open your big mouth and say anything. “Our table’s ready. Have a great meal.”
“I will since you helped me so much.” He shoved his hand in Gabe’s direction. “Hi, I’m Quentin.”
“Gabe.” He shook the vamp’s hand, his expression registering immediate surprise, and perhaps a little distaste at how cold Quentin’s fingers were.
“Did Constance help you too?” he asked Gabe.
The room tilted so quickly, Constance hung on to Gabe’s arm to keep on her feet.
“Help me?” Gabe asked frowning slightly before understanding registered on his face. “Oh, you mean at the service?”
“Absolutely.” Quentin grinned. “She changed everything by making me forget all the crap in my head. Can’t recall anything bad now, though I know it was there because of the bill I paid.” He chuckled and then grew serious once more. “Wiping out those memories was the best thing I ever did.”
Gabe nodded politely despite his obvious confusion.
Quentin spoke to her. “What are you taking from Gabe?”
This conversation, if it wouldn’t risk screwing up his brain and life. Quentin must have thought Gabe was immortal.
Cursing herself for not considering this complication, she spoke quietly. “I don’t discuss anyone’s private matters. It’s not allowed.”
Quentin looked quickly embarrassed. “Right. Sorry. Have a good evening.”
Constance felt the walls closing in as she and Gabe finally moved to their table. After helping her with the chair, he sank into his. Rather than study the menu, he regarded her. “I don’t mean to pry, but what was Quentin talking about?”
Stuff no mortal would understand, so she lied again. “He had a lot of trauma from an old girlfriend. I helped him forget it.”
“How?”
Constance recalled an article she’d read a few months back. At the time, she’d thought it’d make a great cover if she ever needed one for a mortal. “Hypnosis. You can make people forget what they want to forget—kind of like giving them amnesia, if you know how to do it.”
He leaned closer, looking intrigued. “You’re a therapist in addition to being Becca’s assistant?”
“I do my best,” she said, echoing Zoe’s earlier words. “Wow, this all sounds so good.” She stared at her menu rather than risk another glance at him and more questions she might not be able to answer.
Gabe was eager to continue the conversation, fascinated at the thought of Constance performing hypnosis to make people forget stuff. He also wanted to know why Quentin thought she’d done the same with him. Strange. Then again…
Something in the back of Gabe’s mind teased, trying to reveal itself.
“Would either of you care for another drink?” the server asked.
Constance downed hers quickly and handed him the empty glass. “Please. The same.”
“I’m good,” Gabe said.
The young man nodded and left.
Constance continued reading her menu. Gabe glanced past her to Quentin’s table. He was smiling at the young woman he was with, her healthy tan making him seem like a corpse in comparison. Gabe recalled how clammy his palm had been, reminiscent of the muck beneath a plastic swimming pool after it had been on the ground all summer.
He wondered why Becca or the others hadn’t suggested something to brighten the poor guy’s complexion, unless he had some kind of skin condition precluding it.
Gabe studied Constance. She kept chewing her lower lip as if troubling over the entrées. “Don’t know what to get?” he asked.
She flinched.
“Hey, sorry.” Gabe touched her hand. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t. I was really into the music.”
The band had already finished the set and hadn’t started the next.
Once more, a feeling or memory tried to surface but didn’t. Disturbed by it and the sudden change in her mood, Gabe decided to stop being a cop—again—and simply hoped to make things better. “Let’s have a good time. Deal?”
Constance brought his hand to her cheek, her mouth quivering as if she might cry. “I don’t want anything else.”
So why the sadness? Gabe wondered if she was recalling Quentin’s shitty past and figured she must be. Her joy had taken a nosedive the moment they’d spoken.
After scooting closer, he kissed her tenderly until she finally relaxed. They ordered the lamb shank, grilled asparagus, and twice-baked potatoes.
“What about dessert?” Gabe murmured to her. “Want to bring it to my place like the last time?”
She rested her fingertips on his lips, her own parting on a quiet sigh. “We can bring it to mine.”
That’s my girl.
With pleasure awaiting them, Gabe made quick work of his meal, while Constance picked at her food.
Something was still wrong, and he wanted her to tell him so he could make it better, just like cops and good guys were supposed to. Neanderthal thinking, Gabe knew, but he didn’t care. Her happiness came first. Gently, he eased a tress from her shoulder. “Don’t you like the lamb? You want something else?”
She curled her fingers around his. “What do you suggest?”
What had made her happiest last night? “The dessert and check right now so we can go to your place…if it’s all right?”
“Overdue, I’d say.”
Grinning, he motioned for the waiter, telling him to bring the bill and their banana cheesecake to go.
“Won’t be long now,” Gabe told her.
Constance studied him. “No, it won’t.”
They had so little time, hours in fact. The scene at the restaurant had finally convinced Constance to do the right thing and tell Gabe the truth, just as soon as she enjoyed him for one last night.
Girl, you are such a fool.
Nestled against him, Constance opened the door to her apartment and flicked on the lights, showing him her taste in furnishings.
Each cocktail and end table had glass or brass pots filled with incense sticks. Beaded curtains served as a partition between the hall and living room, her sofa and chairs sported red velvet cushions, white sheepskin rugs covered the hardwood floors, while vintage lamps with satin-and-lace shades had crystal fringe dangling from them in a variety of bold, bright colors.
As she closed and locked the door, Gabe took everything in and finally smiled. “This looks like you.”
Yeah, it did—the real her. “You don�
��t think it’s weird?”
He gave her an odd frown. “Not at all. It’s beautiful. Don’t you like it?”
“I like you.” She moved into him, hands cupping his face. “Make love with me.”
Gabe held on to the box of condoms he’d bought on the way here but tossed their boxed dessert on the sofa. “For as long as you want.”
Constance would have asked for a lifetime but knew she’d never be so lucky. With her lips to his, she slipped her tongue inside his mouth, loving the faint scent of bourbon, his marvelous heat and strength.
Gabe held her more tightly than he had in the past, as if on some level he knew these would be their last hours together. After pulling his mouth free, he held up the condoms. “Hold this.”
Once she did, he slipped one arm around her waist, the other behind her knees, and lifted her into his arms. “Where is it?”
She licked his Adam’s apple. “Where is what?”
“Your bedroom. Unless you want to use the sofa, table, floor, or tub—if you have one. I’m good with all of it, even a shower.”
“The mattress is softest for someone your age.”
Scowling, he dug his fingers into Constance’s ribs, tickling her.
She shrieked and tried to squirm away. Gabe wouldn’t allow it. “Where?” he growled.
“Through the beads, turn left and go through the next set of beads.”
They clacked faintly against the jambs as he pushed past both sets. Moonlight bled through her lacy curtains, spilling over the gold-and-black bedspread.
Gabe pressed his face into her neck. “I like this room even more.”
“Does it look like me too?”
“Nope. Looks like us.”
Constance kissed him deeply for the best answer ever, and he dived right in, not giving her a chance to catch her breath. Fingers tugged, clothes flew. Naked, they came together, falling onto the bed.
The frame made a noise of protest that their moans and growls muffled quickly. Like rutting animals, they went at each other with Constance on top for a few minutes before Gabe had her beneath him once more. The moment he imprisoned her with his weight, he grabbed a condom.
She put her hand on his. “Let me.”
“Gladly.”
Her soft strokes made him even harder as she eased the slippery latex down his ginormous erection. Grinning, Gabe entered her easily, her body made to shelter and satisfy his. He suckled her neck for the longest time—marking her with a hickey, no doubt—then further staked his claim by giving her a lover’s bite on each nipple.
Not to be outdone, she dragged her nails down his torso to his ass and stroked his tight ring before heading for his balls.
Gabe stilled and then pumped into her furiously, shaking the mattress. With her legs wrapped around his lean hips, Constance held on, the depth of her desire matching his, surpassing lust and fun to something much deeper.
Their first orgasm came far too quickly, though neither of them surrendered to fatigue. As they kissed, Constance used all of her strength to try to roll Gabe over so he’d be beneath her. At last, he cooperated, lying spread-eagle. Once she eased off the condom, Constance tossed it aside. Gabe turned his head to follow its journey.
She had something else to engage him. Straddling his gorgeous bod, her back to his front, Constance unfolded herself over him and murmured, “Dinner is served.”
Gabe’s weary laughter filled the room, followed by sounds of them enjoying each other’s sex—artless, indecent noises more beautiful than the music they’d heard at the restaurant. As he licked and suckled her clit, Constance lingered over his cock, enjoying it far more than she had the lamb, tonguing his balls for dessert, not wanting anything else.
He regained his strength quickly, his cock growing as stiff and long as before. Her tongue pleasured it for minutes until they both came again, limbs and arms entwined, bodies so weak neither of them moved except to haul in air.
Throughout the night, she kept waking and rousing Gabe, needing more. Despite his exhaustion, he denied her nothing until they simply collapsed.
Constance didn’t sleep. Couldn’t. Her mind continued to race as the minutes and hours ticked by. After what seemed an eternity, dawn approached.
She continued to regard him in the watery morning light, recording his profile, the firm line of his jaw, the curve of his cheek, and his rich mouth.
His upper lip fluttered with his mild snores, urging her to kiss it. Constance resisted, not wanting to wake him, anguished at the thought of saying goodbye.
A few more minutes, please.
As luck would have it, his snores turned from quiet to loud, startling him. He frowned as though confused and squinted as he glanced around, finally settling his gaze on her. “Hey.”
“Hi.” She ran her fingers down his chest and forced herself to be brave. No turning back now. “I have to tell you something.”
Instantly, he went from relaxed to cautious, no doubt seeing her heartache. “What is it?” He pushed to a sitting position and held her hand in both of his.
How wonderful it was when she had no right to such comfort. Getting tough with herself, Constance eased her hand from his. “Before I say anything, I need your promise you’ll never tell another soul. No one. I mean it.”
Gabe stared at her hand for a moment longer before lifting his face, his expression unreadable. “Is this about a crime? Something you’ve seen going on at your office?”
She had to smile. “No crime’s been committed there, at least not in your world.”
“You mean as a cop?”
“I mean in your world period. You have no idea what I am.”
“What you are?” He arched his eyebrows so much they nearly touched his hairline. “Are you okay?” Leaning closer, he stared at her eyes. “Are you experiencing dizziness, nausea? Did you hit your head last night while we were—”
“No.” She left the bed and paced. “I’m not hallucinating or crazy. I’m trying to tell you the truth for once.”
“About what?”
“Me.”
He was silent a moment and then sighed loudly. “Oh hell. You lied about being married?”
“Fuck, no.” She paced faster, wringing her hands. “I’m…that is…you see…what I mean to say…I don’t know how… Well, actually I do, however…” Shit, she couldn’t get it out.
He left the bed. “What are you trying to say?”
Constance stopped and turned to him. “Before I tell you, I need your word you won’t repeat it to anyone, ever.”
“Sure.” Gabe lifted his shoulders. “Why not.”
“This isn’t a game,” she cried. “It’s important. You have to promise and mean it.”
“Oh, baby, I am and I do.” He reached for her. She backed away. Gabe regarded the distance between them. “Believe me, I wasn’t making light of what you’re trying to say. You have my word not to repeat it to anyone ever. Now please, tell me what’s going on.”
His worry was obvious and all her fault. “I’m not who you think I am. To begin with, I’m not Becca’s assistant.”
He stopped nodding in encouragement and stepped back. “You’re not lovers, are you?”
Constance laughed. “No. She’s into Eric. I’m clearly into you.” She gestured to the messy bed.
Gabe smiled, but she didn’t return it. “Look,” he said. “If this is about you not being Becca’s assistant and having another job title, I’m cool with it if you are.”
“It’s not about a title. It’s about what I do at the service, which doesn’t include hypnosis in any way, shape or form.”
His expression grew wary. “Is it illegal?”
“Not in your world. Aren’t you listening?”
Gabe held up his hands. “Absolutely. If it’s not illegal, then what’s the problem? How bad can it be?�
��
“Very. At least in your world.”
“Wait, hold it.” He frowned. “What is this stuff you keep saying about my world? We’re both in the same one.”
“No, we’re not. You’re a mortal cop. I’m a voodoo priestess.”
Chapter Ten
He laughed.
She’d caught him so off guard with her act. Gabe had expected Constance to admit to something pretty damn awful—even having dated Quentin and other clients to make them forget past girlfriends. But this? Aw, shit, she was playing with him, being bad, trying to coax him into spanking her again.
“Baby.” Still chuckling, he padded closer, ready to turn her over his knee.
Before he could touch her, Constance backed away, arms wrapped around her, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Gabe dropped his hands, queasiness rising from his belly to his throat. She was either the greatest actress on earth, liking to take a joke to the extreme, or she honestly believed this shit.
“What is this really about?” he finally asked, stone-cold sober.
Constance fingered tears from her cheeks. “Exactly what I said before. I’m a voodoo—”
“Yeah, I heard. What’s it mean? You attend conventions with other people, sort of like a Trekkie?”
She frowned, a look of offense on her face. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. Mortals never do.”
Huh? Gabe’s nausea worsened as he considered Constance might be mental, though not through any fault of her own. Maybe she’d suffered abuse as a child and had alternate personalities, and they were coming out now because of the stress of being with him. Could be she found great sex and happiness daunting, just as others couldn’t take bad shit.
He risked a step toward her. “I’m trying to understand, really. But I’m not certain what you’re talking about. Can you explain, at least a little?”
She turned to the side and breathed hard. “Remember Quentin?”
How could he have forgotten? It was only a couple of hours ago. “Uh-huh.”
“I didn’t hypnotize him as I’d told you. It was a lie. I removed his memories, actually obliterated them, so he’d never again think about the mortal who’d dumped him.”
