"You sick son of a bitch."
"Boys! You're alive!"
Ashton's teeth grit together. No way was this happening. Not the way that the thing was hoping they'd think it was happening, anyways. Whatever was going on, it was bad and he didn't want to be a part of it. But that wasn't a choice he had to make any more. He was already in it.
"Do you know Enoch?" The question came from behind Ashton, and he answered it without looking back at Cora.
"No. But that's not who that is."
The thing wearing King Peters's face smiled at them, brought his arms wide open. Even now, part of Ashton wanted to believe. Wanted to know that everything was alright again, that he hadn't been responsible for his teacher's death.
But he'd already carried that cross for a long time.
"You get out of that body, and maybe we're so appreciative we let you live," Sam growled. He had a tension in his shoulders that told Ashton why he'd missed. His joints were aching with the cold, but he forced to keep his gun up, trained right at King Peters's face, so the bullet would force a hole in between his teeth.
They should have shot by now, he knew. They all should have. But there was something stopping them. Not something magical—the amulets were protection against that, and they all knew how to feel a Devil rooting around in their heads.
It wasn't like that, though. It was the question that it raised. He walked like Peters. Talked like him. Smiled like him. Sure, he went by a different name, now, or so it seemed. Sure, there was Devil-sign all around them.
But what if they were wrong?
If anyone could survive somehow, it would have been Peters. If anyone could have come back from the dead, anyone in the whole world, it would have been Peters. If they couldn't figure how he'd done it, then that was only because they hadn't had the good sense yet.
"Come on, Hewitt. I know you don't trust me. I know. I told you never to trust anyone comes back from the dead, didn't I?"
"Let's say you did."
"But it's me. I can prove it. I had to fake it. Had to. It had to look real, or they'd have come after me. They'd have stopped me."
"Who'd have stopped you."
Peters made a grimacing face. "The Devils. The one who took my Harriett."
Ashton wanted to pull the trigger right then. This lying had gone on for long enough, and it was getting insulting. Nobody was allowed to play-act like they were King Peters, and they sure as hell weren't allowed to use his wife's memory against them.
Still, Ashton waited. He knew the reason that the others weren't shooting, and it was the same reason he wasn't. Not because it could have been him. It couldn't. There was no way. None that Ash could think of, not really. There would always be the question, the what-if that they could never be sure of.
But that was part of the lesson, too. The question, what if—it's meaningless. It's easy to get yourself killed asking what if they're my buddy. That's exactly why, if you see someone you saw go down, you put them down again.
It wasn't because their training was lax, it wasn't because they thought it might be Peters. They wanted it to be true. Every one of them was prepared to wait as long as it took to be convinced that it wasn't Peters, and so far, it had played a dangerous game very well.
"So why now? Why you takin' girls?"
"Cora, you mean? I knew her mother. Trained her, even."
"Cora—that true?"
She made a sound that indicated she didn't know.
"So that means you take her out of an overturned stagecoach? Why not come out and show yourself to me?"
"I needed her."
"For what?"
"To get my revenge, Ashton. I have the thing downstairs. In the basement. You'll see."
Ashton took in a breath.
"You wanna tell me how the Devil you have locked up in the basement has been chasing Cora and I all over tarnation? And just when it stops chasing me, you happen to show up, take Cora, and now you're keepin' her here?"
Peters's smile widened. "Cora, tell him."
"She's sick. Harriett is. So I need to—but wait. Enoch. Why—my head feels fuzzy. I saw… the room, the girls were all there, but now they're gone. And they were right behind me. Enoch?"
He had been slow about it, step by step, but Ashton couldn't pull the trigger. Hewitt hadn't even pulled his gun yet, but he had his hand sitting on the handle like he was thinkin' about it.
"Cora, you poor thing. I'm so sorry that you had that happen to you. But it'll never happen again, okay?"
She smiled up at him, a smile that Ashton didn't like.
"Cora, I don't want to upset you, darlin'. But Harriett's dead. She's been dead for twelve years now. King Peters, the man you're supposedly lookin' at, he's been dead ten. And dead things—they don't come back to life."
He closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger. King Peters stumbled, even looked hurt for a moment, but then he turned and Ashton could see that the only thing hurting was his pride. He fired another ball, this one lower, into the chest.
There were only so many places a Devil could be, if they were taking over a human body.
Once the shots started, it was over in an instant. The room filled with smoke and stank of the acrid gunpowder smell. Ashton forced himself to check the body.
It wasn't moving. Between the three of them, they'd pulled most of the head clean off the body, and his chest looked like swiss cheese painted red.
"Cora, are you alright?"
She didn't answer right away. He turned, grabbed her, and walked her out of the room.
"You're not hurt, are you?"
"You shot him."
"I knew that man better than anyone in the world, short of the four boys he's trained before me, and I want you to trust me when I say that he would have wanted it that way."
"Ashton, he was going to bring my mother back—"
Tears welled up in Cora's eyes, but Ashton shook his head sadly.
"No, baby doll. Let me show you. This might not be too pleasant, but you need to see. You need to understand."
He walked her down the stairs, his hands on her shoulders the whole time. She seemed like she was seeing everything for the first time. Like it was all completely foreign to her, even after he'd left her here more than a week.
Ashton opened one of the bedroom doors. Cora's eyes went wide, and her crying got harder. He walked her into the next one. She wasn't surprised this time, but he showed her the next one anyways. And the next one. All the way down to her mother's room, where the body was still growing colder on the bed. The cold was beginning to fade, and for that at least, Ashton was thankful.
"Do you understand now?"
Cora leaned her head into his chest and cried. He didn't need another answer than that.
It took an hour to dig the grave, even with all three of them rotating in shifts whenever someone got too tired. The prayers were easy, but getting over it was harder.
Cora didn't talk much. Whatever had happened, it had rattled her. Ashton figured that was the right response. It wasn't right to be handling it as well as he and the boys did. People shouldn't have to deal with this kind of shit.
But they did.
They made it all the way back to Salt Lake City before Cora spoke again.
"Ashton, have you ever seen the ocean?" Her voice was soft, even weak.
"Once, why?"
"I've never seen it. I've never been that far out. This is the furthest I've ever been from home."
"Then let's get going. I can take you, easy as can be."
"I have to go home, and you have to take me home. Arthur's—"
"Arthur nothing," he said softly. "I'm not worried about your brother. He'll find out you're okay, eventually. I'm worried about you, darlin'."
"I want to see the ocean."
"Then we'll go to the ocean."
He stepped up to the ticket seller. No need to go home just yet. There were more important places to be right now.
Desperate To Get Pregnant
Trying To Conceive
Selena Savage
Carrie had been looking forward to her wedding since she was six years old. There was something about women in that big white dress, like a princess. She'd waited, like so many girls, to feel that way.
Dan had made her feel like a princess long before he got down on his knee and asked her to be his wife. Old-fashioned didn't begin to describe him. But she had to be honest—she really enjoyed the feeling that he gave her, time and again, the feeling that she was special. Like she was the only woman in the world to him. She said yes, and they'd started planning right away.
Planning for the wedding, planning for the honeymoon, planning for their life. She sat in the car, on the way to the reception, and now it all seemed like it was happening too slowly. Twenty years, excited for the wedding, and now she couldn't wait to be done with it. She had something new to be excited about, now. Something much bigger.
"Dan, please? Can't we just have a few minutes, you know…to ourselves?"
He put a hand on her thigh. They both knew what she was so anxious about. They both wanted kids. Nearly as long as she'd wanted to be a bride, Carrie had wanted to be a mother, and she was ready to get started as soon as he was. If she could have pulled over and done it in a McDonald's bathroom she would've, as long as it was with her husband.
"We can wait. Your parents are going to be so excited, you know they'll want to talk to you, and the whole party will be there. I know it's hard, but it's going to be all worth it. Trust me."
Carrie let her gloved hand fall into her lap, squeezing her new husband's hand. "Okay. Just this once, though. As soon as we get home—"
"Of course," he said, smiling. As soon as they got home.
The limousine pulled up behind the banquet hall and the uniformed driver came out to open the door for them both. She followed Dan out into the thronging mass of friends and family. The attention, the affection, they both were getting from the crowd helped to remind Carrie what she had been doing all of this for.
She was tired, she knew, and the stress of planning everything, of getting the initial house payments together, of making sure that the schedule fit for everyone… all of it had been getting to her for a long time. Since she'd said yes a year ago, not a day had gone by where she didn't think that she hadn't realized what she was getting herself into.
She and Dan could have eloped. Should have eloped, she thought to herself sarcastically. Then they would have had a much easier time with all of this. But deep down she knew that she wouldn't have been happy with that, no more than Danny would. Sitting at the table, overlooking the entire room as they ate and talked and laughed was the first of their steps together as a married couple, but it wouldn't be the last.
The party seemed to go on forever—a long affair of speeches and meals, followed by drinking and dancing. A wonderful time, full of happy memories for years to come, but, Carrie thought bitterly and a little bit drunkenly, it didn't put a baby in her.
The limousine pulled up in front of the house and the driver got out, opening the door. Dan smiled up at him apologetically and gestured to his sleeping wife. He'd known she was exhausted, but she'd been desperate to spend some time… as husband and wife, he thought, jokingly. He gently moved her to the other side of the cabin and climbed out of the car, going around to the other side and opening the opposite door. He carried her through the threshold, their first night together in their new home.
They both slept like stones, neither bothering to take off their clothing from the reception. The morning would be sore and rushed, but they had already packed. That was the sort of woman Dan had married, and now that he was ready to pass out even before he made it to the bed, he appreciated it. As soon as he had laid his wife down, he kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed behind her. He was asleep the second his head hit the pillow.
The alarm didn't seem to wake Carrie, so much as she woke while it buzzed across the room. She looked up to check the time. Good, she thought. Just enough time. Her head pounded, but she forced herself up, and peeled her clothes off even as she started running the water for her shower.
Waiting for it to heat up, standing in the doorway in the nude, she watched her new husband. It was strange, reading all the accounts of the people who had been promiscuous through college. She'd told herself it wasn't a moral stance, that she just hadn't found the right guy to give herself to.
Once she had, he'd taken the stance for her. They were going to wait, because waiting made it all that much sweeter in the end. She hadn't doubted him, but that didn't mean she didn't want to anticipate their vows, either. Now, she wanted nothing more than to jump into bed with him, and awaken him with pleasure.
They could stay home, she though, only half-joking. Who needs a honeymoon when you've got two weeks vacation and a bedroom? She loved watching him sleep. He looked so peaceful. Like a boy.
She turned to check the water. Hot, like she liked it. She climbed in. By the time she came out, though, she realized her mistake. The water had been such a blessing, such a delight—they were going to have to hurry.
"Danny, wake up," she said, shaking him. He jumped awake, his eyes shooting open.
"What's up?"
"Hop in the shower, babe. We have twenty minutes to get in the car. Sorry I didn't wake you sooner."
"No, it's fine," he said, stripping as he walked.
She'd spent enough time with him to know what his body was like. She'd seen him without a shirt before, of course. But it seemed like now, now that they were married and she was finally able to make her marriage with him real, there was something else. The way his muscles moved under his skin while he walked, he looked…
Perfect, she thought. He looked absolutely perfect.
She pulled on a tee shirt and some sweatpants. The flight was going to be a long one, and there was no reason not to dress like a slouch. But that didn't stop her from doing her hair, she thought. The braids came together quickly, as she was rushing, and then she tucked them back.
As the last pin went into place, she felt something behind her—a body pressed up against hers, and the warm coffee scent of Dan's filled her nostrils. "Hey, are you almost ready?"
She turned and smiled, kissing his lips. They'd kissed more times than she could count, but now it seemed different. There was a fire there, inside her, that she hadn't counted on. He pressed her back into the dresser, and she realized that he wasn't wearing anything. She could feel him pressing into her as they kissed.
"You have no idea how much I want to, but we can't. You've got seven minutes to get dressed, babe."
"I know," he said, already moving toward the closet and pulling out jeans and a tee shirt. It went on easy, covering him up from her gaze, but somehow it only helped to make the lines of his body more defined.
Instead of covering him up, it revealed more, drew attention to the right places. Carrie had to refocus herself, to force herself to think about the task at hand. She checked her purse, made sure the keys were still in it. Picked up her carry-on bag, the checked luggage handle, and stood by the door ready to go. Dan joined her a moment later, and they were away.
The rush of getting out of the house, of driving to the airport, turned into a long wait once they were through security. It was nearly dead, thanks to it being Wednesday, and the lines hadn't been as bad as they'd feared. Rather than being cut just down to the wire, they had an hour to kill.
Carrie knew how she'd like to be spending it, but she'd already moved past that. Doing that wasn't an option any more, not until they touched down in Hawaii and checked into their hotel.
The plane trip was 15 minutes shy of 12 hours—but it was mercifully short, thanks to their shared exhaustion. Carrie woke up just as the islands came into view, and a few short minutes later the captain announced they'd be making their descent.
They had all the time in the world to themselves, now, she thought. But they didn't. Not really. She knew, she'd made the itinerary hers
elf. When she'd been planning it all out, it made sense to her that they'd want to really drink in Hawaii, to experience it as much as possible.
What an idiot. The only thing she wanted to drink in now was her husband, but she'd already paid in advance for seats at a fancy dinner and a show. Stupid.
They should have had an hour or more between landing and a nine o'clock supper, but that was quickly eaten up by confusion with her bank back home—they didn't want to authorize a charge of several hundred dollars so far away.
On the other hand, when she tried to call to confirm that it was, indeed, her making the charges, she was put on hold and passed around between a half-dozen phone operators before finally someone was able to authorize it. Checking the time on her phone, she was unhappy to discover they'd spent nearly forty minutes, not only of the teller's time, but of their own time.
They'd be lucky to have time enough to change in to proper clothes before they had to leave again, straight away. How time flies, Carrie thought bitterly. The more that happened the more that she saw the wisdom in her joking thought to stay home for their honeymoon.
They made it, and thankfully check-in was painless. She made a point to tell the young woman behind the counter how glad she was that the service was so prompt and easy, but it didn't give them any extra time. The luau was twenty minutes out of the hotel, and they had barely thirty-five by the time they'd checked in.
Dan looked at her over the rim of his glasses. "We don't have to go, if you don't want to, you know."
"But we've already paid for it," came the protest, but it sounded weak even to Carrie's ears.
"We can afford to miss. It was only, what, twenty dollars each?"
Carrie slumped down in the sofa. "Forty."
"We can afford it. Come here," he said, patting his lap.
Carrie obliged her husband and slid over enough to lay her head down in his lap, looking up at him. "You're sure?"
"Positive. We can get something to eat later if you're hungry."
"I'm not," she confessed.
"Me neither."
There was something in his voice that made Carrie sit up and look at him. He looked hungry, whether he said so or not. But realization dawned on her as she sat, looking at her husband: he wasn't hungry for supper.
Sadistic Master Bundle (BDSM Billionaire Erotic Romance) Page 21
