As Eva smiled at him in the mirror, the man named Kane sauntered closer, coming to her shoulder, where he rested his hand. She sighed, his touch an aphrodisiac.
“Enjoy the local delights while you may,” he said, bending to kiss the sweet spot that connected her neck and shoulder. Then he murmured against her. “Soon, I’ll be bringing you home, after I find what I expect to in this city.”
She didn’t correct him by saying “who” he expected to find instead of “what.” She knew he was pursuing another white lady or even a man, but Eva wasn’t jealous. He had brought her on so many travels since delivering her from London. They had been following a certain trail—a “hunch”—that had led them to Rome. Soon they’d be on their way to the States, where he said she would be among more like her, just as she’d been in the Underground.
But she was a little confused about that. “Underground.” The word sounded like something Eva thought she remembered but didn’t. And, every day, it faded a little more from her, just like other names that drifted through the debris of her memories, like “Frank” and “Dawn.”
Eva only knew that she was happier not knowing what the words meant; this was her gift from Kane. Forgetting the pain, her conscience as white as the dresses he bought for her.
He had given her what she needed.
He took her by the hand and led her to the common area of the suite, with its rich velvet upholstered furniture, Cristal champagne waiting on ice, and old music playing from the digital music TV channel.
“I Only Have Eyes for You.” That was the song, and she thought she should know it—that it had something to do with the name “Frank.” Maybe the name had liked this music.
But then, as Kane brought her to the settee, where a young man in backpacking gear sat with his eyes glazed due to the stupor Kane had leveled on him, Eva forgot “Frank.”
“There he is, my queen,” Kane said. “I promised you would be loved as you used to be—and it wasn’t necessarily by Frank.”
“Thank you.” She touched the boy’s face, making him jump in his seat from the shock of her contact.
He gaped at her, wide-eyed, and Eva released her dazzling smile on him. His gaze softened as he saw everything he wanted in her, the softness in his eyes soon turning to a harder desire.
Yes, he already loved her, and she leaned forward, pressing her mouth to his, sucking electric life and adoration into her.
Leaving even more of the past behind as she went forward into her happily ever after.
THIRTY
THE ETERNAL
A clear, endless morning sky opened over Dawn as she lay on the sand of a beach. The big blue canvas, plus the murmur of waves, almost made her believe that she was somewhere timeless, just like a painting Costin had once taken her into when they’d initially met—a fantasy locale where he’d seduced her, come into her, made her a part of his world during those first days with him.
“Where are you?” It was Costin’s voice. The Voice—deep, midnight low, except not as dark now. Not anymore.
“I’m in Del Mar,” she said, closing her eyes against the sky. The blue survived on the backs of her lids. “On a beach, with you.”
“I meant to ask where your mind was.”
He laughed, and it was good to hear. He’d been doing it a lot more. She supposed that, since his emancipation, he could finally give in to that side of himself—a part that Jonah had maybe even taught him a few things about since welcoming his Traveler back. The host had been respectful and helpful to Costin in many ways, and in turn, Costin always left Jonah with enough free time to keep him content. It was interesting, though, that Jonah had used that free time away from Dawn.
She didn’t know how long that would last, and sometimes, she admitted that she wouldn’t mind seeing him come out to hang around a little. In a weird way, she missed him. But maybe he’d taken her rejection of him harder than she’d thought.
Then again, maybe he’d learned to enjoy what he had and he wasn’t going to pull any stunts that would encourage Costin to leave him—and that included making more bids for Dawn’s affection. He’d experienced life without Costin, and when Jonah had balanced that against life with him, he’d sacrificed his autonomy.
Still, Dawn wondered if he might ever get lonely, especially since, back in London, he’d told Kalin to go on her way since there wasn’t a future for them. The spirit hadn’t liked that at all, throwing a real fuss until Costin had intervened, asking if she’d like to reside in her portrait for, say, half a year, and come out again to see if Jonah had reconsidered. Even if she was a dickens, she’d been a good, true Friend, so she’d deserved the offer.
She’d accepted, and the portrait was in a study in their house. Jonah never visited that room, as far as Dawn knew. She only hoped that this didn’t mean he’d be investing too much emotion in her through Costin’s own attentions. Maybe he was even doing that while he lived through Costin again.
But so far? It was all good.
Dawn rolled over, toward where Costin’s voice had come from, sand sticking to the back of her long, ocean-damp hair and her wet suit. When she opened her eyes, he was there, in Jonah’s body, sitting on a real beach with her, just like he’d done every morning since she and Costin had settled into a cliff-perched home that overlooked the Pacific Ocean. After she’d gotten the cast off her arm, they’d started waking up before sunrise so she could teach him what she remembered about surfing, an activity he’d never, ever thought to do during his extended lifetime.
It was just a part of what he called “rehab” for them both, but she knew that it mostly applied to her. She’d needed to find peace to counter the anger that had marked her with the constellation of beauty spots, plus the dragon splashes, that still decorated her skin. The waves did a lot of soothing.
So did Costin.
She rested her hand on his leg, which was covered by his own sand-glittered wet suit. His dark hair was damp, too, carelessly disheveled in a very Jonah- like style, although his host was resting deep inside their body right now and he wasn’t dominant. Behind him, two surfboards stuck out of the sand near a sheltering, concave curve in the rock wall.
For a minute, she stayed touching him like that, the surf coming and going in the background, the smell of brine in the air. She’d gotten used to touching, to opening up.
Nothing like a near-apocalyptic scenario to bring that out in a person.
“I know what you are thinking,” Costin said.
“No, you don’t.” Usually, he called her out on her habit of returning to the memories: of Della and how she’d made Dawn realize that she still had a life and she could do great things with it. Of Eva, who was dead to Dawn.
She couldn’t get through a day without reverting back to those old thoughts; she wasn’t that good at rehab yet. But she was trying to change. Trying hard, because Costin had come back for her, and he deserved her best.
“Then what is going through your mind?” he asked.
“I was just listening to the waves. Not thinking of much, really. But now that you mention it . . .”
Costin placed his hand over hers, and she reveled in the flesh-to-flesh warmth. Human skin with its smooth roughness and scars.
“Every once in a while,” she said, “they all cross my mind. Especially Eva.”
He slid his thumb over hers, and a tickle of awareness—of finally taking in his love—traveled through her chest.
She added, “Kiko keeps saying he’ll go after her for me, if I ever want him to.”
Spurred on by the validation he’d received from channeling The Whisper, Kiko was setting up shop nearby in Solana Beach with Natalia in the hopes of getting a business running someday. He and the new girl planned to do PI work, but they’d be using their psychic talents, first and foremost. Natalia, who was working on becoming an American citizen, insisted that they’d be focusing on cold cases and supposedly missing persons whose voices she heard, but Kiko was up for some more paranormal adventu
re besides. Right now, they were doing all kinds of training with spirit guides as well as taking traditional PI courses.
Since Kik and Natalia had decided to stick together, he hadn’t gone back to his meds, and there was no lulling available to him, either, since almost all of the Friends were gone. Natalia had made a promise to Dawn that she would watch over him, and Dawn had left it to the new girl, thinking that there was even something more than a friendship in the cards for Psychics #1 and #2.
“Will you take Kiko up on his offer?” Costin asked.
As he traced the tender area between her thumb and forefinger, Dawn shifted closer, her head near his thigh.
“You know better than that.”
“You say as much. Yet, within you, there will always be the girl who lost Eva more than once. There will always be a longing.” He pressed his palm against hers, their fingers entwining. “But I have faith that, one day, you will awaken to find that Eva is with you somewhat less in your topmost thoughts. Then, another day, there will be only a single memory that comes to you, and it will not be as painful. Soon after, she will truly be gone.”
Dawn nodded, her face rubbing against his wet suit. She could feel his muscle beneath it. A man. Her man.
“I’ve let her go,” she said. “I really have.”
“But you have not accepted the concept that you cannot save everyone, even if you think you are beyond Eva. In that lies a sleeping anger. You must let it all go, Dawn.”
“I will.” Maybe she’d get there with more time behind her, because it was all still so recent, her failures still healing under the balm of her successes.
Getting to an elbow, she brought the back of Costin’s hand to her cheek. She connected with his gaze, topaz and calming.
Everything was there, in him.
Then she saw movement down the beach: an old man sitting in a folding chair under a red umbrella.
Her heart contracted. Frank. He lived in a cottage on Dawn and Costin’s property, and he liked to wake up early and watch their surf sessions. Now, he was still keeping tabs on other surfers as they bobbed in the green gray water and caught the waves.
His body had improved slightly these past few months—enough to sustain an argument for Dawn to get off his back about going to a doctor—but he still slumped in his chair, wearing sunglasses, a Chargers ball cap, and loose, faded black sweats that his limbs didn’t quite fill. Even though Dawn couldn’t see Breisi, she knew that the Friend was draped over his shoulders, her own movements diminished, too.
Dawn bit her lower lip, trying not to lose it, just like on most days with the two of them. Neither him nor Breisi had ever really recovered from Eva’s attacks, but they were damned intent on sticking together until the end of Frank’s days. In spite of the rest of the Friends going to their just rewards, Breisi had said no place was better than with Frank, so she had put off leaving him until they were both ready.
Dawn let go of Costin’s hand and looked at the ocean, hoping that focusing on it would chase away the wet heat in her gaze. And the more she looked, the more she thought about how the water seemed to go on forever, just like Breisi and Frank would, wherever they ended up.
Just like she and Costin would, too.
They didn’t say anything for a while, and her tears backed off. Soon, the sun strengthened its shine, and the marks on her face started beating. Costin came into her each morning before they surfed to make sure the dragon’s blood didn’t infiltrate her again. When she went outside, she used a bit of makeup to tone down the red, but she’d resigned herself to her appearance. Like she’d told the emergency room personnel in London, the blood was a birthmark. And, hell, the beauty marks could’ve been a wild-girl tattoo that resembled a cheetah’s spots. They were no less than the scars she used to carry from her stunt work before everything had become all too real.
She glanced up at Costin and knew the look on his face—the desire in his eyes—and she opened her mind to him, ready for the intimacy, welcoming it. And although they had decided to stay away from vampires and other paranormal adventures as much as they could, he took Dawn by both hands now and maneuvered them both back into the cove, behind their surfboards.
When they got there, Costin abandoned Jonah’s body, leaving his host with blue eyes. As Jonah breathed in, experiencing the fresh air, he stretched.
Dawn cleared her throat, and he grinned at her. She cleared her throat more emphatically.
He gave her a glance that said, “Don’t worry—I’m getting out of your hair,” then left.
She watched him amble out of the cove, past the surfboards and down the beach, probably to Frank and Breisi, but then Costin’s essence swept into Dawn with a crash that mimicked the force of a nearby wave, making her forget about everything else.
Dawn’s fingers dug at the sand, letting him in, no holds barred. This was how they connected, not body to body with Jonah there, just soul to soul.
Like a full circle, he whisked around her, stroking her deep inside, making her sigh at the giddy pleasure of having him here, always, a part of her that she’d never known she could have.
As he swirled, caressing her until even the outside of her body responded—her skin goose bumping, her breasts peaking to hard, sensitive nubs against the bathing top under her wet suit, her clit aching and swollen—Dawn took every bit of him in.
He brought her all together, every side of her, lightening the darkness without banishing it altogether, mixing her and working her with gentle force, wrapping himself in her until she pulled together with taut ecstasy, winding up, straining to let go. He primed her to be the best of what she could be, and her vision blurred with the heights of this complete arousal.
Pressing against every tender spot, he made her arch, groan, and just when she didn’t think she could stand any more, she plunged down deep into her own consciousness, as if he’d dived within her and taken her with him into a bottomless pool in the center of her, hot and liquid. The drops splashed against every part of her, spinning and drilling, forming the heat of a hundred more pools that spread through her, stretching as far as the ocean that was murmuring in her ears again. . . .
As she came down, he was still with her, inside, and she embraced him there, clenching him in.
“The Whisper did promise me a better place when I finished my quest,” Costin said, resting in her with a carnal hum.
Dawn wrapped her arms over her stomach, as if she’d never let him go, even though he’d be returning to Jonah’s body soon.
“We’re both in a much better place,” she said.
As the waves continued outside, Costin spread through her inside, taking up the rhythm of eternal whispers.
Deep In the Woods Page 30
