Her emotions stayed inside. Locked up, even with this personal blame laid out. Which meant Emily was still holding something in, but he refused to press. She’d given him more in the last five minutes than she had all week.
“Even if you don’t blame me for your father, the things I saw. And heard. Are branded into my brain and won’t go away. I feel stupid that I can’t get beyond this.”
“Why would you feel that way?” The very idea bewildering. “You suffered severe trauma. You almost died because of what Stricker and Eva did. You have to mourn and heal like anyone else. You are special, Emily. Smart. Beautiful. Perfect in my eyes no matter what. But you can’t skip the process. And you can’t force it to move faster.”
“How exactly did I suffer Michael? I watched Eva kill my dad. I watched Melinda bound to that stake. I watched… and listened… to William’s torture. Eva took over my body, I don’t remember any of it. I don’t remember killing your dad. I don’t remember your brother stabbing me. I watched. I listened. I didn’t suffer. Not like everyone else.”
This was beyond Michael, more than he was capable of dealing with. Never mind keeping his own guilt from consuming him as it was he and Charlie that had almost dealt his girlfriend the final deathblow, thinking she was Eva shifted into Emily’s form.
“You were hurt, Emily. And you did suffer. You are suffering. You almost died. That does something to a person. And the rest doesn’t count any less because you watched. Or listened. You had no control over what happened.”
He prayed she was really hearing him.
She leaned her head against his, her body trembling against him.
“I love you, Emily Morgan. That is never going to change. You can take as long as you need to heal and understand your place in this crazy ass world we live in. I won’t give up on you. Ever.”
“This isn’t my life, Michael. I’m a girl who runs a bookstore. I’m the one who helps with research. It’s not supposed to be so…”
“Frightening. Real. Inescapable.”
Emily lifted her head off him. “I understand why you wanted to get away from this place now. I didn’t before. I’m not naïve enough to think I can force my feelings to change. But I want them to change. I don’t like them. I don’t like being in this dark place.” She stopped, a rattled breath on her lips.
He dabbed at the dampness around her eyes with his thumbs, caressing the sides of her cheeks.
“What do you need from me, Emily? Please, tell me. Anything… I’ll do it.”
She didn’t answer with words.
A single need rolled off her, freely. Another tried to surface, but she struggled to let it do so.
Emily needed acceptance. Forgiveness. And him. All of him.
It ensnared his senses completely, seeping into every nerve, every muscle, making him incapable of doing anything but give her everything.
Her hands found the bottom of his shirt and slid the cloth up over his head.
Emily didn’t want romantic. Or gentle.
Wasn’t waiting, or asking.
Michael joined her, shuffling her up a couple more stairs. Lips collided as they climbed up a few more. And a few more, before giving up and dropping down to the hardened oak.
Her lips, body, and emotions were one-minded and flinging at Michael with such ferocity he pinned her to the stairs uncaring of the wince that came out of her when her back hit the oak edge of the protruding stair. He drank it down along with a moan, hands searching for the hem of her dress.
Emily’s hand snaked down between their bodies tugging at the zipper of his pants. She got them undone as he forced the dress up over her ass, yanking it over her head. No bra, it had been built into the dress. Michael crept over her body, teeth raking her right nipple in a necessary torture. Emily gasped, tugging the pants off him. His mouth moved to her left side, using the same torture mercilessly.
“Michael…” He was making her wait for the rest and she didn’t want that.
He sat upward, reached down, tore the thin cotton separating them and unceremoniously thrust into her, filling her, stretching her wide open.
Arms slammed up against the staircase walls, a gasp pushing through her lips at the sting of his entry. It was everything Emily wanted, but it wasn’t enough.
Michael braced his hands on the stair just over her head, his body grinding against hers with each thrust. Each time he pulled out her feelings flung out at him demanding he fill her again. Deeper. Harder. Again. Again. Again.
Emily took in every inch, gasping each time, hands either flat against the walls, in his hair, or digging into his back. Mouths crashed into each other. Tongues tangled. Teeth nipped. Michael’s knees hit each corner of the stair. There was no deeper he could take her and he grunted in the effort; her emotions demanding more. More. More. Not enough. Never going to be enough.
He lifted her, moving them up two more stairs. Then two more until she was at the top. He pushed her flush to the floor, pulled out, his mouth buried between her legs before she got out a single gasp.
Even sad and broken, Emily tasted of peaches and cream. But he wasn’t here to taste test. He took her between his lips and sucked, nipped, and bathed her with his tongue.
Her hips bucked, his arms pressed her thighs down. She wasn’t moving until he freed her.
She let out a gasping sob.
A slew of emotions flying at him, consuming him.
Too much.
Not enough.
More.
Stop.
Oh, God, don’t stop.
Michael refused any pause.
Her back arched, her body tensing. He let go of her legs, pulled her body up off the floor so her legs straddled him, her breasts against him and pounded her down on him until an explosion of stars was all he could see, and the only emotion his Emily threw at him.
Her head flew back with a gasping sob, his arms held her firm, his body spent, breathing raggedly. He closed his eyes, felt her forehead lean against his in a moment of serenity.
No words.
Wetness dripped onto his shoulder.
Tears. Emily’s.
He kissed them away. Gently swiping across her trembling lips.
Her body remained locked around his and he sensed she was not willing to let go. With a bit of effort, his exhausted muscles got them off the floor and he carried her to their bed.
It would be another long evening and night, worrying that his beautiful light would stay dimmed forever. But he had hope this moment, where he’d had none just a single staircase ago.
CHAPTER 4
Charlie picked up the Mack line the morning after the funeral. When he hung up, Melinda didn’t need to ask, but he told her anyway.
“Another body drained of its blood. This one was found near one of the lighthouses.”
They stared at each other blankly for a few seconds.
“What should we do?” Melinda asked tentatively.
“We’ll go meet with Mack to start. She’s at the morgue. To be honest, my head is not ready to play this game yet, and all I can come up with is think like William.”
“What would William do?” she responded dejectedly. “I don’t think he’d be trying to hunt down and condemn himself.” Although she and Charlie still did not hold any belief it was William responsible for these recent bloodlettings.
“I’ll tell Michael what’s going on, to keep him in the loop but…” Charlie stopped, cut off to the sounds of footsteps heading toward them. “Oh, hi.” He was surprised when Emily popped into the kitchen, grabbing a coffee. To go. And wearing a smile. Not quite her usual easygoing grin, a slightly forced version of one.
“Morning. I’m off to the bookstore.”
“Really?” said Melinda, catching herself. “I mean, that’s great. But are you sure you’re up to it?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s a work day. I go to work.” She turned, left the kitchen, and marched straight out the front door at the same moment another set of footsteps t
rampled chaotically down the stairs.
“Emily,” shouted Michael.
Charlie and Melinda met him near the front door. He was dressed in a pair of shorts and his hair was wet.
“She just left,” his sister informed him. “To go to work.”
“Work?”
“Yeah. She seemed… chipper.” Charlie’s voice rose at the end, in question.
“She woke up acting a bit strange this morning. I hopped in the shower and when I got out she was gone. I’d better go after her.”
“Maybe she needs some space,” suggested Melinda. “Or needs to keep busy.”
“Emily is in total denial. She’s not herself and she hasn’t been since… you know when. I just...” a steady run of obscenities spit out of him, his hand rubbing across his forehead. “I’m not qualified to help her through this. What the heck am I supposed to do? I thought she was getting better, making progress.”
“A little time and space sounds good,” said Charlie. Although, thinking about it, that’s exactly what they’d done when Melinda had her breakdown and it did not turn out so well. This wasn’t the same situation though. Not exactly.
“I don’t think I can do space,” Michael admitted. “I can give her all the time she needs. But letting her out of my sight is more than I can handle.”
“I get you’re afraid to let her out of your sight, but is this more about you, or her?” pointed out Melinda.
“Um. Both. As I see it. We’re better together right now. I’m scared to death something’s going to happen to her whenever she’s out of my sight. Even for a few minutes. She doesn’t have her ring any longer, so she could get attacked by spirits. And she’s made a few steps forward in the whole mourning process, but she’s still got a ways to go.”
Melinda frowned. “Sounds like you might need to give her some space, Michael.” She patted his arm kindly. “I know it’s not easy. But everyone has to suffer and recover in their own way. Preferably not my way…” she tried to make light.
Michael nodded. He heard what they were saying, but… “I get that Emily needs space, but I’m struggling to let her have it.”
“It’s been barely over a week,” reminded Charlie. “She buried her father yesterday.”
“Which is why she shouldn’t be at work today,” Michael argued.
“Look, you know Emily better than anyone. You’ll do the right thing,” encouraged Melinda.
Michael cast his gaze between his siblings and the front door. The right thing, and the thing he needed, and thought Emily needed, were all one and the same in his mind.
Melinda shook her head. “You fill him in before he chases after her.”
Charlie smirked, but obliged. Melinda snuck past her brothers to grab a sweater and shoes before heading out with Charlie while he explained the two bodies that had been found, suspected cause of death, vampire bite…
“Look,” he started once he’d finished explaining. “Go take care of Emily. Do what you got to do. Melinda and I can check this out on our own.”
“No. I should go with you. I could do a death reading and possibly luck out and see the face of our killer. But remember, I don’t always see the who, only the how.”
“And if it’s William?”
Michael opened his mouth and let it slap shut.
“It’s like that,” acknowledged Charlie. “None of us can add that load to what we’re already dealing with. It’s too heavy. And it doesn’t make the problem go away. Hunting for a vampire is hunting for a vampire. I’d rather not give him a name. So let’s hold off with a reading until we don’t have a choice.”
Michael agreed. He was in no hurry to condemn William. And his brother was right, knowing didn’t give the situation and auto fix.
“Holler if you need me,” called out Michael. He raced upstairs to finish getting dressed and a minute later was out of the mansion to catch up with Emily.
Charlie disappeared into the kitchen to grab a coffee to go, thinking there was more of it in his veins than blood at this point.
Perhaps having Michael do a reading would have been the smart choice. Perhaps it would prove better to find out it was William now, rather than later. Get through the misery all at once.
But the thought of finding out their dearest friend, and family protector, was guilty of killing anyone was too much to ask right now. He’d keep trying to disprove it was William, and if they could not, he’d let Michael do a reading.
Without realizing it, he’d stopped down the hall, staring at a closed door. His parent’s bedroom. He’d been trying to open the door for days but hadn’t been able to do it. Today was no different. His arm wouldn’t even lift to try to open it. They’d left the room in exactly the same condition it was in after their parents had died over four years ago. Could not bring themselves to clean it out or remove anything. Because they hoped it wasn’t true. And in the case of their father, had not been true.
But it was real now.
And yet his hand refused his brain’s order to lift and twist the knob.
“You ready?” Melinda shouted from the front of the house.
He gave the door one last stare, shook his head in disappointment, and joined his sister.
They headed to meet Mack at the morgue. The town was its usual mix of hustle and bustle as tourists mulled about, eating and shopping their way across the Isle. However, it was difficult to let the revelry catch them today.
A block before the morgue there was a commotion down an alleyway. A few tourists staggered, startled, suddenly pushed aside; a familiar face popped out of the alley.
“Lucas!” called out Melinda, shocked to see it was him. They had seen each other at the funeral the day before, but only briefly. She’d been busy playing hostess and dealing with the funeral home employees on behalf of Emily. Charlie tried to help, but was mostly bombarded by locals who wanted to pay final respects to their father, Jack.
Lucas wore a bewildered look on his face and did not reply, almost like he didn’t quite see them standing a short few feet away.
Melinda approached him, tapping his shoulder. “You okay?”
He released a breath he’d been holding and twisted his neck, seeing her.
“Oh. Hi.”
Charlie brushed up against Melinda’s side, letting the bumped into tourists pass by them.
“Sorry,” Lucas aimed at them. The tourists shrugged it off and went about their day.
Melinda asked him if he was okay again.
“Um,” he glanced into the alley and back at them. “Fine.”
“You sure? You look a bit like you’ve seen a ghost or something,” she razzed gently.
His eyes widened a bit and he frowned. “All good. Just um, lost my way for a second.”
“How’s your head?” Melinda changed the subject. He’d been hit and knocked out by the Feyk, same as she had.
“Healed up. Yours?”
“Same. Big bump, all gone now.”
“Sorry I didn’t really get the chance to talk with you guys yesterday.”
“It was a tad chaotic,” Charlie understated, with a lifted brow.
“Yes, didn’t expect such a large turnout of people.”
“The locals wanted to pay their respects. They are good people, for the most part,” said Charlie.
Lucas wanted to believe that, but both he and Lizzy, as Deane’s, had their share of glares and stares. They hadn’t stayed too long, leaving the Howard’s to deal with the locals. It was all Lucas could do to keep Lizzy from causing a scene. One, because she was over the whole mistrust of Deane’s thing, and two, she was pissed at Charlie but trying to play nice since it was a funeral.
“How are you all doing?” Lucas put up his hand. “Never mind. Stupid question of the day.”
Charlie chuckled darkly. He still didn’t have a good answer for that question. Melinda changed the subject again.
“Have you heard from… your brother?” Melinda stalled, unable to say his name out loud.
She nodded, clueless as to what she’d say, or how she’d react if Lucas told her Riley was coming back to the Isle.
“I should get home, let you two get on with whatever you’re doing.” He gave a quick wave and made to stride around them when he stopped and eyed Charlie. “It seems only fair to warn you that my sister is a wee bit pissed at you right now. And not only because you ignored her at every turn yesterday.”
Melinda held back a laugh.
Lucas shrugged, as if to say, you dug your own grave… good luck with that.
Charlie held in the gravel threatening to turn into a groan.
Why hadn’t he kept his mouth shut? Lizzy had been trying to call him off and on for the last week, and he’d been ignoring her calls. And after his abhorrent behavior yesterday he was surprised she hadn’t stormed into the mansion to confront him. Although she’d been cordial enough at the funeral even though Charlie swore there was a layer of steam simmering under her skin waiting to erupt at the right moment. Yesterday was not that day. But he was running out of excuses.
Lucas waved a hasty goodbye and strode off but not without casting a wary glance down the alley he’d rushed out of.
“Huh,” grunted Melinda.
“What? Other than, I am in a world of trouble.”
“A world of Lizzy trouble,” she returned. “But I was thinking Lucas was acting odd. A bit off, for him.”
“I wouldn’t really know.”
“Maybe me neither, but he seemed off. Anyway, not our problem today.”
“Yeah, let’s not add to it.”
They made their way to the morgue. Mack greeted them at the door and showed them inside. Her normal easygoing nature subdued.
“You look good,” she told Melinda.
“Thanks, Mack.” The sheriff reached out and grasped her shoulder.
“Dang, this isn’t going to be an easy one for you guys, bein’ that William is a suspect and all...” Melinda winced at that. “Sorry. It’s not easy for me either. But I have to do my job.”
Vampire Interrupted (Wicked Good Witches Book 8) Page 5
