by P. G. Forte
He shook his head, sighing softly as he thought about it. Had it come to that already? He’d been expecting rebellion within his little group. He was set to deal with it. To squash it. Ruthlessly, if necessary – and, even if it wasn’t necessary, it still might be desirable. To make an example of the instigators, and to use their suffering as an object lesson to keep the rest of his followers in line.
But, he hadn’t thought it would start with her. And now, if that was the case, he might have to re-think his strategy for dealing with it. Something else, he wasn’t in the mood to do.
His plan for the church had been years in the making. It was perfect. He knew just what he wanted to accomplish, just how he wanted to do it. And, yes, there were variables, but nothing he hadn’t taken into account; there should be no need to adjust anything, at this point. And, there would be no need – if it weren’t for Cara.
Gregg grabbed hold of one of this week’s assistants and instructed him to begin cleaning up. Then he headed for the stairs and his final appointment of the night.
Liam would make an interesting addition to his little fold. He was young, fiery, intelligent, and undoubtedly an empath. He was also, undoubtedly, a seeker. But, what was he seeking? And, why here?
Gregg’s senses, even heightened, as they always were, by the energy he’d received from the group, couldn’t tell him that. The other empaths with whom he’d met tonight, had also felt Liam’s... sincerity... as they put it. The boy wanted to be here. That fact seemed indisputable. But, it was odd that he did, and Gregg, who was not a big believer in sincerity, could only assume an ulterior motive.
Sincere, or not, however, Liam had a lot of untapped energy. He was looking for something. He would join the church in hopes of finding it and, whether he found it, or not, Gregg would certainly find a way to use him.
But, he would also be keeping a close eye on the boy. There was something curious about him; at times naïve, at other times jaded. Rather like Cara, in that regard. Which might account for the attraction the two seemed to feel for each other. An attraction Gregg planned on putting to the test, right now…
* * *
“This is an office?” Liam asked, eyebrows rising as the lights came on and he got his first good look at the room. His gut twisted and he barely suppressed a shudder as he turned to Cara for confirmation.
Mouth tight, she nodded; pointing at the desk, half hidden behind an ornately carved folding screen. “Office. See?”
But Liam’s eyes had already strayed to the other side of the room, where the massive four poster loomed like a monolith. He jerked his head toward it. “I’d have said bedroom.”
Cara shrugged. She folded her arms over her midsection, sparing not a single glance for the bed. “Whatever.”
He left her side and prowled the room. Cautiously. Seeking information with all his senses.
“Be careful over there. Gregg doesn’t like anyone messing with his computer,” Cara called anxiously, as Liam approached the desk.
“I wasn’t going to,” he replied as he moved obediently away. One day soon he’d mess with it. But, not now.
He eyed her curiously. The way she held herself– Was she trying to shield her solar plexus with those crossed arms? Was she aware, as he couldn’t help but be, of the emotions which seemed to permeate the atmosphere?
There was a dark madness to the place. A pervasive misery. And it was everywhere, making him afraid of what he’d see and hear and feel if he were ever to fully open his senses. He was aware of too much as it was.
Lust screamed at him from the red walls, a thirst that could never be slaked. And pain, like a sacrificial victim, hung twisted in the long, black drapes. He did shudder then, as images assaulted him.
“Maybe you should sit down,” Cara suggested.
Liam turned to follow her gaze. He shook his head. “No.” Cruelty hunkered in the blood colored arm chairs that faced each other across the unyielding marble coffee table, turning the crudely carved, soapstone chess set that stood upon its glossy surface into a grim reminder of battle. There would be no joy in any contest played there, Liam thought; only carnage.
“Well, maybe you should just stand still, then,” she snapped, as he wandered toward the bed.
“What’s wrong now?” he asked. “You nervous?”
“I’m tired,” she answered, hugging herself a little tighter. “I just want to go to sleep.”
“Poor baby,” he teased, turning once more to smile at her. “So, go to bed. Who’s stopping you?”
Cara frowned crossly. “How’m I supposed to do that? Gregg’s meeting with you, isn’t he? And who knows who else, after that. And I still have to see about the clean up downstairs and there’s–
“So?” Liam cut her off and nodded toward the bed. “Come over here, then. Pretend you’re Goldilocks. Or Snow White, or something. Lie down and take a nap while you’re waiting.”
Cara shook her head. “No. I told you. I can’t.”
“Why not?” Liam asked, but then he looked at the bed. “Never mind, I see what you mean.”
Smothered beneath several layers of sumptuous satin, the bed should have beckoned anyone. It should, at least, have hinted at comfort and rest for those who were tired. Scarcely aware of what he did, Liam raised his hand to scan its energy. Very little warmth registered there. Instead, despair, cold and bleak, lay like a frost upon it. “Abandon all hope, ye who enter,” he muttered, shaking his head as he turned away.
Cara stared at him in frank surprise. “What did you say?”
Liam shrugged. “I don’t know. Something I read in school, I think. It’s supposed to be what’s written over the gates of Hell.”
“How very profound,” Gregg’s voice mocked him from the doorway. “And yet, so many people think of bed as being their gateway to Heaven. But then again, are Heaven and Hell really all that different? Aren’t they just two sides of the same coin?”
“I’ve heard that,” Liam replied, hurriedly putting on his game face, smiling politely as he turned to face his host. “But I don’t see how it’s possible. They certainly seem very different to me. Two opposite extremes. Like good and evil.”
“Ah, but everything in life is a circle, is it not?” Gregg asked, smiling as well, as he advanced into the room. “And, eventually, all extremes must meet.” He took a seat in one of the arm chairs, and gestured at the other. “Please. Sit down.”
This time, Liam could not refuse. But, his chest felt tight as he lowered himself into the chair Gregg indicated; sinking into the butter-soft leather, as though into quicksand.
“I’ll go see about the clean up,” Cara murmured, uncrossing her arms at last as she turned toward the door.
“Stop.” Gregg’s voice recalled her. “Come back.”
Cara ground to a halt and pivoted slowly, barely concealing her wariness. “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” Gregg drawled, smiling at the girl with unexpected warmth.. “Why, nothing, pet. It’s just that it’s all been taken care of.” He held out a hand and motioned her toward him. “So, come. Join us.”
Surprise registered in Cara’s eyes. Color warmed her cheeks and she re-crossed the room, smiling eagerly. Liam’s eyebrows rose. She didn’t look nervous now, did she? What the fuck was this about?
“Now, isn’t this better than cleaning?” Gregg asked as she curled herself up on his lap.
Cara nodded, but her smile had begun to falter. She gnawed on her lip for a moment. “Yeah, but, I thought... aren’t you mad at me?”
Gregg chuckled softly. “Mad at you? Why? Have you been a bad girl?”
“Unh-unh,” she murmured, frowning a little as she wriggled in place. Probably just trying to get comfortable, Liam thought. Unfortunately, her actions were having the exact opposite effect on him.
It was hard not to notice the way her short skirt rode ever higher as she squirmed, sliding up her legs until it barely covered her butt. It was hard not to stare as Gregg’s hand slipped between her
thighs. “That’s too bad. ‘Cause you know how I like bad girls, don’t you?”
Cara giggled nervously as she clamped her legs together to stop Gregg’s advance and Liam felt an unexpected jolt of lust harden him. He stared at the place where Gregg’s hand lay trapped, and didn’t even realize he was staring. He could imagine how it would feel to have his own hand captured like that. Could feel the smooth firmness of her flesh as it surrounded him…
The room fell away and his awareness narrowed to the silky pressure of her thighs and the enticing heat that urged him onward. She’s only teasing, he thought, as her muscles contracted and her legs squeezed him tighter. She doesn’t really want me to stop. He shifted restlessly in his chair. He could feel his fingers creeping higher. He was barely even mindful of the quiet chanting deep within his mind. Take her. Take her now. Take her. Now.
Her resistance was a pretense. A game, nothing more. She wants it. She knows she wants it. And he wanted it, too. Wanted to use both hands to pry her legs apart, wanted to watch as she fell back against clean, white sheets, as she opened herself to him. Already, he could feel her heat, he could smell the scent of her arousal. He wanted to stroke the slick folds of her pussy, thrust his tongue into her hot core, and then bury himself deep inside her. So tight. So hot. So wet for him...
“Gregg, stop it,” Cara commanded fretfully, not giggling anymore. She shoved at his hand.
Liam shuddered, snapping back to his senses with a start. What the hell? He’d just been mind fucked. That should never have happened. That shouldn’t even be possible. It was something about the room, something in the atmosphere. It had to be…
He pulled his gaze away from Cara’s legs, but was unable to tear his mind loose from its thoughts of her. From the need for her, which still raged inside him.
Cut it out, asshole, she’s just a kid!
But he didn’t know that for sure, did he? And, even if – technically – that was true, he doubted he’d ever again be able to look at her with innocent eyes.
“Gre-egg,” Cara whined softly, still tugging at his wrist. “Stop it. Don’t–”
Liam frowned. Gregg’s hand was at her crotch now, his other arm anchored her around the waist, holding her in place.
“Or what?” Gregg taunted, nipping at her ear.
Cara squirmed again. “C’mon, I mean it. Cut it out.”
Gregg laughed as she tried unsuccessfully to jerk away from him. His fingers wiggled closer. “Why? Don’t you like it when I touch you there?”
Liam’s jaw clenched. Oh, shit. Even if she wasn’t underage, he couldn’t just sit by and watch while the bastard molested her. He took a deep breath, readying himself to order Gregg to let her go. To pull Cara away from him, if he had to. To knock the other man out, if necessary. And to blow any chance he had of being invited into TLV’s inner circle straight to hell. Fuck!
Cara, her face red now, cast a quick, embarrassed glance in Liam’s direction, then whispered. “Yes. You know I do. Just... not now!”
Not now? What? Liam stilled. So, it wasn’t Gregg’s actions she was objecting to, but the fact they had an audience? Great. Nice to know he’d nearly blown his cover over nothing.
“You’re a very silly girl,” Gregg sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment as he pulled his hand from between her legs and wrapped it around her thigh, cuddling her against him. “After all, if Liam is going to come live with us, he has to understand how things are between you and me, doesn’t he?”
Surprised, Liam raised his eyes to Gregg’s face. This was about him? Cold blue eyes locked with his. Gregg smiled. “You understand how things are now, don’t you, Liam?”
Liam nodded. “Yeah.” He understood perfectly. Cara was attractive as hell and totally off limits – isn’t that what Gregg had wanted him to see? Well, he’d seen it. Not that it made any difference. He had no plans there, anyway. That’s not what he was here for.
“I’m not mistaken, am I? You do want to live here?”
“Yeah.” Liam nodded again. “Yeah, I really do.”
Cara gazed at him doubtfully. Liam shrugged and tried not to scowl at the way she’d settled into Gregg’s embrace. Docile as a lamb, now. Shit, how old was she, anyway?
Gregg’s hands began to rove again, stroking her thigh, sliding up to her waist, then inching higher still, and Liam steeled himself to show no reaction. He hated Gregg for touching her. But was it because she seemed so young? Because it reminded him of things from his past, things best left forgotten? Or because he wanted her himself?
No. Not happening.
Gregg smiled again. “Good. That’s settled, then. I imagine you’ll need a few days to get things settled before you can move in. Cara is house mother, so let her know when you’ll be joining us. She’ll be in charge of getting a room ready for you, and going over the rules, seeing that you have everything you need. If there’s anything you want, you can ask her, and she’ll see that you get it. Assuming it’s appropriate, of course.”
“Of course,” Liam echoed, dryly. House mother? Crap, he hadn’t guessed that one either, had he?
“Good,” Gregg repeated. “Welcome aboard. Now, I don’t imagine you’ll have any trouble finding your way out?”
Liam shook his head, and gratefully extracted himself from the chair’s grip. He felt like he was missing something. Felt like it should have been harder to gain entrance. This felt too easy. Too much like a trap. He ignored Cara’s gaze as he shook Gregg’s hand and thanked him for the opportunity.
As he turned to go, his eyes fell once more on the bed. Without warning, an image of Cara, spread naked across it, seared itself into his brain. Hot waves of desire broke over him once again, and it was all he could do to keep from shaking his head at his own stupidity. Easy? Nice try, sucker.
* * *
Cara breathed a sigh of relief when Liam closed the door behind him. She didn’t know why she’d been so embarrassed. Gregg was right. If Liam was going to live here, he’d find out sooner or later how things were between her and Gregg. Well... not everything, of course.
But, why is he here?
The thought surprised her. Obviously, he was here for the same reason all the others were. He was just like all the rest. The crazies. The loonies. The wannabe saints.
But, he’s not. He’s different.
She shook the thought away. No. No, he wasn’t. He was younger, that’s all. And cuter. But, that was it.
Too bad…
Cara sighed. “Well, I guess I’d better go see about locking up.”
“Not so fast,” Gregg said quietly. “I just remembered something.”
Cara blinked, dismayed at the hint of steel in his voice. Her heart began to thump, almost painfully. “What do you mean? Wh-what did you remember?”
Gregg’s fingers dug into her cheeks as he turned her face toward him. “I was angry with you tonight, wasn’t I?”
Oh, shit. She should have known. Cara felt tears start in her eyes. She knew Gregg was expecting her to answer, but how could she, when she could neither nod her head nor speak?
Gregg pulled her close, close enough to whisper in her ear. She felt herself start to tremble, even before his words reached her. “Well, guess what? I still am.”
Chapter Eleven
The Temple Garden was noisy and crowded, as it always tended to be on Saturday nights. Saturday was when the normally sedate Chinese restaurant woke up and rocked. The all-you-can-eat Polynesian buffet and the frou-frou tropical drinks, were both big draws but it was the live performances by local bands that packed the house week after week.
Chenoa Johnson had been coming to the Garden for years, sometimes to watch her brother Chay perform, sometimes to visit with her friend Maya, whose father, Brent Hoffman, was one of the club’s owners. As Maya told the story, Brent had bought into the then failing Chinese restaurant because he couldn’t bear to contemplate the idea of his favorite restaurant being forced to close – where would he go for springrolls, for sesame n
oodles or crab Rangoon? Personally, Chenoa thought it just as likely that he’d seen it as an opportunity to create a venue where his band, The Lychee Nuts, might perform on a regular basis.
The Lychee Nuts was one of this evening’s headliners, along with Chay, who was sitting in with the band on a couple of sets. After years of struggle and mediocrity, the disparate influences within the group had finally jelled, creating a unique, authentic and recognizable sound. But, despite the fact that she ordinarily found their unusual melange of musical flavors surprisingly compelling, tonight, for some reason, Chenoa found her mind wandering.
She glanced at the three women who shared her table: Erin Allridge, Chay’s girlfriend, seemed as entranced as ever by his flute. Jasmine Quinn, one of Chenoa’s very best friends, flirted coyly with her boyfriend Brandon who played sax. While Ruth Jacobsen, twenty years Chenoa’s senior, as much a surrogate mother as a friend, beamed delightedly at Brent, whom she had recently begun dating. They were all here to watch their men perform. All but her. She didn’t have a man, at the moment. In fact, romantically speaking, it was drought and famine time. She hadn’t had so much as a steady date in a couple of years, and to say that she was feeling a little sorry for herself tonight, would have been a massive understatement.
It seemed like everyone was pairing off around her – all her friends finding partners and hooking up. More and more often, she found herself feeling like a fifth wheel. She didn’t like it. True, her life was so satisfying in most other respects, that it seemed wrong to complain about anything so trivial, especially since, for the most part, it had been her own choice to remain single. But on the other hand... a girl could change her mind, couldn’t she?
“Hey, look over there.” Jasmine nudged her elbow, startling her from her reverie. “Isn’t that your friend?”
Chenoa frowned. “What friend? Who are you talking about, Jay?”
“Over there,” Jasmine repeated, nodding with her chin, at a point far to Chenoa’s left. “Wedding Guy at eight o’clock.”
