Kami? What are kami?
'The powers that be, the gods of my ancestors,' Michiko said kindly.
Paula trembled. Michiko could read her mind then. The idea made her cringe, then a second later came a rush of relief. At least someone here can tell instantly when Isidora's around, she thought. Without me having to take my clothes off.
Across the room, Jonathan suddenly yawned. He suppressed it and muttered, 'Sorry, it's been a strange night. If it is still night?' Looking around their circle, Paula saw tired faces. Even Rafe looked utterly exhausted and, though she had no way of knowing what kind of reserves Michiko had, her young friend, pretty Hiro, looked beat.
The Japanese woman sprang to her feet.
'Yes, we are all weary. And Jonathan is correct, it's been a strange night,' she said firmly. 'I need to lock these pages in a place where they'll be safe. I suggest we all retire to our quarters and get a little rest. Then regroup in a couple of hours.' A frown puckered her smooth brow. 'There are answers to be had but I need to think, to refine them.' She made as if to go to Hiro, but then paused in front of Rafe who was also on his feet.
'I rely on you.' Her voice was intent as she looked up at him. She was almost a foot shorter than him but she still seemed commanding. 'While I'm occupied, you are our first line of defence. You must contain Isidora by any means at your disposal, whether physical or psychic' Slipping her hand into the pocket of her tight leathers, she drew out a small smooth stone, marked with tiny symbols. 'This talisman will enhance your hypnotic gifts and assist you in subduing her.' She put the magic item into Rafe's open palm. 'But remember, those handcuffs should stop her going anywhere. Her powers and her physical strength are limited without total dominion over a human body.'
She turned to Paula, apology in her dark eyes. 'Your body, alas, my dear. It means you must be restrained. I regret the necessity but it's the only way to be sure she doesn't bolt while your lover sleeps.'
'I won't sleep.' The words were harsh but measured, and there was steel in Rafe's eyes. His hand was still open, the talisman resting there as if he didn't want to accept it.
'I believe you will attempt not to, but we cannot take the risk.'
Paula glanced from Michiko to Rafe and back again. They didn't particularly like each other, or even trust one another, but there was respect there, despite the antagonism.
Rafe took a deep breath. 'Fair enough. You're probably right. I've got feet of clay and I've failed before.' A spasm of guilt twisting his face, he closed his fingers around the small magical stone. 'So it's probably best to take all precautions.' Paula grabbed for his hand and squeezed it lightly where he held the talisman and Michiko gave him a stiff little nod of respect, then turned to the room.
'We'll gather here in two hours then?' She looked from face to face. 'By which time I hope to have more in the way of solutions to offer.'
As if by mutual agreement, they all filed out of the library. Silently at first, but then, as they split into couples, murmurs of conversation began.
'I won't let her get a grip this time.' Rafe's voice was grim as they moved out of earshot of the others. 'Not this time Not ever again.'
As they ascended the stairs, Paula almost believed him.
Hiro fell asleep quickly and, as soon as his breathing steadied, Michiko flung on her robe and made her way back down to the great library to collect the damaged grimoire. Cradling it to her bosom, as if it were an injured child, she returned to André's tower with it, seeking the centre of the Priory's power. She placed it on the work table that had belonged to her former friend and lover, wracked with guilt that she'd allowed the great book to be sullied.
OK, it had been Isidora's book of spells in the first place, but having spent two hundred years in André's possession it had shed her dark influence and acquired his more benign aura.
'If you were here now, my lord, we could banish her between us.'
She stared up at the fine portrait of her friend, hanging in his most intimate chamber. In the two centuries he'd had the book in his possession, André Von Kastel had learnt by heart most of the spells within its pages. He would have known the form of words for the banishment and the ingredients required to make sure the job was done right. Michiko knew only general principles, outlines, fragments.
There was no way she could safely banish Isidora from the body of Paula Beckett without reviewing the actual spell. To take the risk was to condemn the unfortunate young woman to the same fate as her nemesis. Or worse.
Running her fingers along the torn edges, she opened her mind, willing the enchantments to form from the echoes still lingering there. She imagined clean blank sheets, gritting her teeth, trying to conjure the details by main force.
Nothing happened.
She blanked her mind again, begging her dear friend to contact her from the Great Beyond, but though she sensed his eternal presence – and his concern – her thoughts remained formless.
But if André was beyond the reach of her requests, who else could help? Someone who had a book such as this? Intact? There was one, of course, someone who'd be happy to help her. For a price.
Michiko frowned.
Balthazar Davenheim. Collector, connoisseur, minor sorcerer – and major pervert. None of which was necessarily a fault, but she knew what he'd want and she wasn't sure she could give it. Especially now, when Hiro was proving so very interesting and coming to mean so much. Still, she felt a frisson of half-troubled excitement at the thought of accepting the latest in a long line of invitations. She'd so often wondered what it would be like with him.
As she pondered, the sound of footsteps alighting the stone staircase made her jump.
But it wasn't Balthazar Davenheim who entered the tower room, only Belinda. In her silk dressing gown and slippers, the younger woman looked fresh considering the broken night but, then again, her sleep cycle was still unusual.
She smiled and rubbed her short reddish hair. 'I'm awake for a change.' Her mouth quirked with a worried little smile. 'Is there anything I can do?'
'Not really, my dear,' Michiko replied, turning from the book towards her friend. For a moment, memories of lust between them stirred, and she couldn't suppress the urge to search the younger woman's body with her eyes, remembering its delights, its willingness.
Maybe some other time?
'Don't worry, Belinda.' She touched the other woman's arm softly, sampling her disrupted aura. 'You will return to normal. If you want to ... It's already happening.'
Belinda shrugged, her pretty face lighting in a wry smile. 'Yes, I want to return to normal. Jonathan's normal. We have normal lives to go back to. I think it's better that way.'
Michiko raised her hand, stroked Belinda's face, looking into her eyes. 'They're less blue ... definitely. It's only a matter of time and you'll be as you were.'
Belinda smiled, but it faded when she glanced down at the book.
'But what about Paula? What can we do for her? I really thought that cow Isidora was gone for good.' By silent mutual consent, the two women moved to the bed, and sat down on its edge, side by side.
'She can be banished, for good this time. There is a spell.' Michiko rubbed her forehead, working at the frown that she knew had reappeared. 'If only I could remember all of it, rather than just scraps.'
'Isn't there another copy of the grimoire?' Belinda glanced at the open book.
'Yes, there are several in existence. And one I know of not all that far away.'
Belinda almost bounced on the bed. 'Can we get access to it? Borrow it or something? I can't bear to think of Paula stuck with that bitch inside her for ever.'
Michiko stared down at her own wrists. They were narrow, but infinitely strong. Could she see them bound and at least feign weakness and submission, in the cause of the greater good? She'd entered into such games before and enjoyed them mightily, but only with trusted friends and lovers that she cared about. The man she had to go to, whose co-operation they required, was largely unknown t
o her, his motives possibly suspect. Possibly dark.
Could she let Balthazar Davenheim bind and shackle her, and play with her body?
13 The Ties that Bind
Staring up at the elaborately moulded ceiling of their bedroom, Paula tried to remember the last time life had been normal. What was it – a month ago, more? Certainly less than a thousand hours ...
She'd set out in her little car to meet Belinda and Jonathan. She'd spoken to them on the phone, calling from a pleasant country pub where she'd stopped for lunch. Then a beautiful woman had spoken to her and turned her world inside out.
Her memory was starting to clear now, but she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or bad. Especially in relation to what she'd done with Isidora. She could remember being kissed and touched and given orgasms. But she couldn't remember the state of desire for a woman. Lying here now, it was still men that she wanted.
Correction, man.
In the tense silence she glanced sideways at Rafe, still not sure how or why she'd fallen for him. His profile looked austere in the soft early-morning light. He was tightly wound. Worried about accidentally nodding off, he was sitting up in bed, his back against the pillows piled behind him. In his lap, glittering and silvery against the towelling robe he wore, lay the handcuffs, a silent accusation. His eyes were closed, but she knew sleep was far away, every line in his face and body told her that.
Have him, a voice seemed to murmur, but Paula didn't know if it was Isidora coming or just her own instincts.
Now she knew him, and knew what drove him and what haunted him, there was a special beauty to Rafe that touched and stirred her. She would never have found such a man desirable before, especially in such parlous circumstances as these, but now everything about him turned her on. She loved the way his short hair just curled slightly at his hairline, and she even loved the slight dusting of grey amongst the black. She wanted to look up into his intense brown eyes and see them dark with passion, then bright with pleasure. Life-affirming pleasure that eased the soul and made the impossible to deal with more bearable for a while.
'Rafe ... are you OK?' She touched his arm, feeling the solid muscle and the heat of his skin, even through the fabric of his robe. He was so full of life, and she had to remind him of that. 'Why don't you lie down and relax for a while? Look –' she tugged apart the panels of her robe, to show her belly '- the mark is normal, no darkening. It's just me.'
The sigil made her frown, despite her reassurances to him. One section of it had already changed, and she deduced that it was meant to be a numeral, signifying the number of hours left out of the thousand.
Bloody hell, I've got a countdown on my skin!
She looked up into Rafe's eyes and they were dark and troubled.
'I think I'll just stay awake,' he said, and the cuffs chinked softly as he leant over and kissed her lightly on the forehead. The action was delicately tender, yet it made Paula think of his fierce, raw lovemaking in the alley, just a couple of days ago. Who would have guessed that he'd turn from rampant one-night-stand to noble guardian so quickly?
She reached for him, pulling him down for a better kiss. Or at least one that was different, and less chaste. As she pressed her lips against him, cradling the nape of his neck, his tongue responded. The cuffs jingled again as he moved over her, deepening the contact, taking her mouth.
Paula coiled her arms around him. His back was broad where she held on and he smelt divine. Their bathroom was provisioned with a five-star collection of toiletries and grooming products, and he'd chosen a light and spicy cologne that was not unlike the fragrance he usually wore. The skin of his face and jaw was silky-smooth, as if he'd shaved again.
When he'd been in the bathroom, he'd left her fastened to the brass rails of the bed and the thought of that now, as they kissed, made her body tingle and rouse. Even though she knew the life and death serious reason for her bondage, it still produced a deep and sexy frisson.
Was Rafe thinking about it too?
Suddenly she wished for Michiko's powers of thought reading. The ability to reach inside his mind and touch his emotions. Had Isidora possessed such abilities when she was in her own body? If she had, she certainly wasn't sharing them with her temporary host.
So it's up to me to show you how I feel the old-fashioned way, thought Paula, surging against Rafe, rubbing her body closer to his.
To her delight, as he shifted position, she discovered he was erect. It made her smile, her mouth curving beneath his kiss.
Despite her freakish dilemma, despite the still ambiguous nature of their relationship, despite his kick in the gut fears about his own life expectancy, despite all this against them, the power of sex prevailed.
He wanted her. She wanted him. At least that was simple.
Then he drew back. Looked into her eyes. In his there was a moment of doubt, then he too smiled.
'Yes, it's me,' said Paula firmly, her fingers tangling in his thick hair. 'Can't you tell?'
'Sorry, love, I shouldn't doubt you. I don't doubt you. It's me. I don't want to get so blinded by lust that I'm beyond seeing the difference.' He let out a gusty breath. 'I'm just a man. Whatever happens we're pretty much ruled by our dicks.'
Paula pushed on his chest, making him sit up and face her.
'Look, if we let her stop us making love because we're scared of her, she's won. She's controlling what I do, and what you do, even when she isn't around.' Before Rafe could respond, she slithered out of her robe, leaving herself naked. 'See, nowhere to hide now. I know you'd know if she put in an appearance, but this way you can be doubly sure.'
Rafe's eyes flared with light. A familiar hot light. He touched her thigh, trailing his fingers over her skin almost reverently. But he still hesitated.
'Look, love,' Paula persisted, warming to her theme and to the prospect of savouring his long, fit body. His robe had shifted in their tussle and she could see his cock thickening and growing, dark with vibrant blood. 'If you're worried about her showing up while ... while we're fucking, well, you can always stop, can't you?'
'Knowing what I know now, that's probably a certainty.' He shrugged. 'I don't fancy her. In fact I can safely say I hate her. I'd most likely just wilt the minute she appeared.' His fingertips glided over the surface of her skin, the caress simultaneously erotic but far, far from sex. 'I know it's the same body, but I don't want her. I only want you.'
Paula lurched forwards, pressing her lips hard against his, knowing there were the beginnings of tears oozing down her cheeks, but not caring. How strange and wonderful it was to have found what she'd always been searching for under these most bizarre and unlikely of circumstances.
Rate's arms folded around her again, and he rolled them over until he was on top of her. The handcuffs were beneath them, digging into her buttocks but she didn't care. The small discomfort seemed to fire her pleasure, especially when Rate's skilled masseur's hands began to travel, revisiting zones that he already knew well.
He kissed deep. He touched deep. Within seconds he was circling her clit, fondling and patting it as he leant over her, his tongue in her mouth. Naked against the sheets, Paula wriggled, feeling the metal of the cuffs press against her bottom. As he fingered her, she imagined him touching her in the same way, but when she was shackled, chained up to the bedhead. She'd want to touch him in return but be unable to. The idea of being bound and restricted made her sex flutter, and within moments she was gasping and coming lightly.
Rafe pulled away, looking down at her. Was he looking for the intruder? Maybe not. He just smiled and said, 'That was quick. What were you thinking about?'
Paula grabbed him lightly, a hand on each side of his face, grinning back up at him as her flesh continued to shimmer. Men were all the same, even the best of them. Always ridiculously pleased when they'd made a woman orgasm.
'I was thinking about the handcuffs, actually ... about bondage.' She gave him a little wink. 'Now that we've got them, we might as well use them. And then
if you do fall spark out asleep when you've come, "she" won't be able to get up and go looking for the door key.' She glanced around momentarily, wondering just where he'd hidden it when she was in the bathroom, but knowing it was best she didn't know. 'Of course, you'll have to put the key to the cuffs out of her reach too.'
Rafe narrowed his eyes at her, in mock suspicion. 'Are you sure she's not here already?' He slid his hand from between her legs and moved it, still moist with her arousal, to her cool belly, examining it by touch as well as sight. The design was still reassuringly pale. 'Either that or you're learning devious tricks from her.'
'Heaven forbid,' murmured Paula, keeping her voice light even though she meant it. Fiddling around beneath herself, she drew out the shiny cuffs. Silently, she held them out to him, keeping her eyes locked on his. Telling him she trusted him.
Rafe took the cuffs, hooking a finger in one, letting the other, on its short chain, dangle. The metal glittered in the soft light like a cipher, and he cocked his head on one side, still questioning.
Paula didn't speak, but with a tiny nod she answered his silent enquiry.
Slowly, Rate lowered the metal construction until the lower cuff just brushed against her breast tip. The sensation was delicate and silvery yet it made her want to squirm again. He circled the cuff and she wanted to wriggle more, open her legs, reach down. But she fought the urges, imagining she was already secured.
The metal slid against her, bumping and flicking at her nipple, sending little streaks of pleasure straight to her sex. He repositioned the cuff and taunted her other nipple, round and round. Unable to contain herself, Paula whimpered, her hips lifting.
'You're horny this morning, baby,' said Rafe huskily, letting the cuff trail down until it hit the dink of her navel. Paula grabbed the bedding, twisting it in clumps, pulling at it. The stimulation was disproportionate, unexpected even while she was still smiling inside at what he'd said. She imagined him back in his treatment room at Inner Light, speaking much the same way to one of his 'ladies', yet strangely she felt no jealousy or scorn. This was just play, and play-talk was appropriate.
Gothic Heat Page 18
