Darkness Becomes Her

by Jaime Rush

  “Stop,” he said when she clicked back to the search results. “No more. You can’t do anything to help those women now.”

  “No, but I can give them closure. I can, somehow, let them know that their mothers, wives, have been murdered and that the man who did it is dead. I can do that.”

  “And get yourself arrested. Then tossed in the loony bin when you tell them how you know.” He tilted his head at her. “But you’ll do it anyway. You’ve got that look about you.”

  “I’ll figure out a way, a good way. But first we have to send the bastard to the Void.”

  Chapter 19

  Having Lachlan in the kitchen, helping with the prep, made her feel less alone. He was chopping the onion, bless his heart. Damned things always made her eyes burn.

  She sliced up a zucchini. “I have to go back to the Void one more time.”

  She expected him to argue, but he simply asked, “Why?”

  “I need to talk to my dad.”

  “I figured you’d want to talk to your mum.”

  “I do . . . and I don’t. I’m not sure I could handle her telling me she knew what Russell was doing. I can’t bring her back anyway, not at that price. My dad, I can.”

  “You still want to try, even knowing he killed your mum?”

  “He didn’t do it; Darkness did. My mom had an affair. Not that she deserved to die because of it, but she sparked it.” She gave him a meaningful look. “He didn’t mean to do it, and so I forgive him. I need to let him know.”

  “You’ll need Olaf for that, and he probably won’t help us now.”

  Ah, that’s why Lachlan wasn’t arguing. He didn’t think she’d be able to go. “He’s pissed at you, not me. I’ll get him to help.”

  “I doubt he’ll come when I call him.” He scraped the last bits of onion into the pan. “I checked on Magnus while you were sleeping. He’s beginning to stir. I want this done before he wakes. I want to be able to tell him that it’s over and you’re safe.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Is that where you hand me over to him?”

  “It’s where I back away. I realized something earlier: Darkness took over your dad, and made Russell into an obsessed killer. Magnus has that now. The last thing he remembers is being with you, wanting you. Darkness isn’t logical as far as I can tell. He’ll feel territorial toward you. We don’t know how he’ll react if he suspects there’s anything between us.”

  Mine. The echo of that sentiment, the raw feeling of it as she looked at Lachlan . . . “Is there anything between us?”

  His mouth moved silently before he said, “Not like that.”

  “Because the way you said it—”

  “We’ve experienced a bit of lust due to the whole adrenaline thing. But we got off, so that should be out of our system.”

  “Yeah, that’s done.” She forced a laugh, waving her hand. “All that craziness.”

  “Yeah. Madness.”

  It wasn’t just adrenaline. It was everything in him that he didn’t see. Honor. Loyalty. Compassion. The way his breath hitched when she touched him, even just a casual touch on the shoulder as she passed him in the narrow space between the island and counter. The way she affected him.

  She added the zucchini to the onions and garlic and stirred everything together, feeling the sting of the onion juice in her eyes.

  “Here.” He took the spoon from her, nudging her aside with his hip. “I’ll take care of it. You’re crying.”

  “Onion tears.” She watched him stir for a while. “Do you think Magnus forgave you for accidentally killing your mother?”

  Her question seemed to take him off guard. “Maybe a little. I think he realized I’m all he has, for better or worse.”

  She started spooning the sautéed vegetables into the cavities of the two Cornish hens.

  “Seems obscene, ramming your hand between their legs like that,” he said, watching her.

  She wrinkled her nose. “I never thought of it that way, but now that you’ve mentioned it . . .”

  “I’ve ruined it for you. Sorry.”

  “It’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me lately.” She opened the oven door, and he slid in the pan.

  He closed the door. “We have an hour to kill.”

  Memories of their time in the guest bedroom sparked through her body. Okay, maybe she hadn’t gotten it out of her system. “At least.”

  “You work on Darkness. I’ll work with the sword. We need all the practice we can get.”

  Of course. Though she felt disappointed, she didn’t fear working with Darkness anymore. She needed to master it. She gestured down to her black, calf-length skirt with wide gray ruffles at the edges. “I’m not really dressed for it.”

  His gaze swept down her, as it had when she emerged from her room earlier. “You’re not working on your karate. That’ll do.”

  She glanced his way as they headed down the hallway. “All this time, Russell has been trying to trap me. Now we have to trap him. I’ll use my Darkness to send him to the Void and bring my dad back.”

  “But remember, Russell can do the same to you. We need to knock him out. First, we need to draw him to us. Time is running out. Desperate men get sloppy. I’m going to have Cheveyo lift the shield. Russell will track us here. And we’ll be ready.”

  “To my apartment. Not here.”

  “It’s too risky to take this fight where others might get involved. You heard his threat at the carnival. Russell will kill anyone who gets in the way. We can’t afford for that to be some guy who happens to investigate strange noises. And this is our home turf. We have the advantage.”

  Our home turf. Our home. Though he hadn’t meant them that way, the words settled over her like a warm blanket.

  Once in the studio, he set a timer that had probably been used for his bouts with Magnus. He put angry rock music on the stereo.

  She didn’t want to Become out of anger, though. She wanted to Become out of strength.

  He pulled a sword from the wall. “Work on the tiger. That’s where your power is.”

  As though he’d read her mind. She faced Russell there, as powerful as he.

  Tiger.

  She felt the growl come up from somewhere deep inside her. Saw the room blur for an instant. She ran across it so fast she reached the other end and nearly hit the wall. Human again, she looked for Lachlan.

  “You did it.” He gave her a proud smile. “You were a gorgeous tiger, and you moved so fast I could hardly see you.”

  She shivered, from both his pride and the knowledge that she’d become something dangerous.

  “Do it again,” he said.

  She faced the far wall, gleaming with swords and knives, and charged. He’d said she was gorgeous. He hadn’t been disgusted or afraid, only impressed. He clapped softly, as though she were putting on a show. She did it again.

  Russell sat at the table in his motel room, staring at the laptop screen.

  Failure pounded at him, breaking his body out in a sweat. He swiped at his forehead, his upper lip, and flung the drops of perspiration away.

  So close. He’d been so close today, and other times. Always, success teased him but stayed just out of reach.

  Bastard had attacked his beloved. Afterward he immediately went to her. She was shaken, battered by the magic on the sword.

  He had tried in vain to bring Calista back into other women’s bodies, when he couldn’t find Jessie. The last failure had been the hardest because he had to accept that using another woman wouldn’t work. With organ transplants, donor and recipient had to be the same blood type. Maybe in this case they had to share the same DNA. Jessie was ideal, of course, being Calista’s daughter.

  But Jessie was proving too problematic. He still held hope, though. One last thing to try. The girl with the bright hair smiled at him from the picture on the monitor. The Jessie who had donated blood marrow had to be his Jessie. Hayley held part of Jessie, and maybe, just maybe, it would be enough.
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br />   Bringing Calista back in a teenager’s body . . . not ideal. It smacked of immorality. He wanted a grown woman. Hayley would be missed as well. He would hide her away for a while, maybe a cabin in the woods. After having just snatches of time with Calista in the Void, he could saturate himself in her, just the two of them. It would be heaven. Hayley would be a lot easier to grab, too. She wouldn’t have some guy with a sword and magic to protect her. The article mentioned the school she attended. He would wait, follow her home.

  Calista, soon. Soon we’ll be together again.

  After forty minutes of working with Darkness, Jessie could Become at will for a few seconds at a time. She was exhausted, though, her legs rubbery.

  Lachlan, the big distraction, had stripped off his shirt and worked with the sword. Thrusting. Parrying. She didn’t know all those sword-fighting terms, but she did know a thrust when she saw one, and he had such a nice one. He put his whole body into it, all of his muscles flexing. His chest gleamed with the faint sheen of sweat, which dampened the hair at the nape of his neck. Even worse, with the wall of mirrors, she had a view of both sides of him at once.

  She felt such a stirring, as powerful as Darkness. As though sensing her attention, or maybe more, he turned to her. The blade caught the light, flashing like a signal. Their gazes locked, and his throat convulsed as he swallowed.

  She tilted her head. “Did we, Lachlan? Did we get it out of our system?”

  He shook his head, a quick movement that ruffled his hair. He set the sword at his feet. “We could do the back-to-back thing again. Get rid of it completely.”

  “You think one more time would do it?” She took a step closer, her heartbeat fast and thready.

  “Be the safe way.”

  She closed the distance between them. “And you’re a safe kind of guy, aren’t you?”

  That made him laugh despite himself. “No, but I’m an honorable sort of guy. Or trying to be.”

  “Yes, you are.” She reached up and stroked his cheek, seeing him shiver. “But here’s the thing: there is something between us. Not lust.” She smiled. “Well, yes, lust, but not adrenaline lust. You’re always thinking of how Magnus feels about me, but what about how I feel? My feelings count, too.”

  She left her hand on his chest. “I didn’t have a chance to get to know him well, but I do know you, Lachlan. I know your heart. I know you hunger to regain your honor to feel worthy. You’ll put your life on the line to save Magnus, or me, because you believe you need to redeem yourself. But that’s not really why you do it.”

  “If you claim to know me so well, then tell me why.”

  “Because you are a warrior who will go to any length to do what’s right. To protect those you care about. And you do care deeply. That you care about me is a complication you tried to avoid. You did your best to erect a wall between us by being a—”

  “An arrogant arse,” he supplied.

  “And you succeeded.” She smiled. “I didn’t want to feel for you either, because of my Darkness. But here we are.” She took a quick breath, talking so fast she’d forgotten to breathe. “Wanting each other. Feeling something for each other.” She drew her hand down his throat to his chest, finger sliding against his slick skin. “I like Magnus, but I fell in love with you.”

  Her mouth dropped open as words she hadn’t planned on saying flowed out, mirroring the surprise on his face. “Yeah. I fell for your passion, your loyalty, the way you look when you fight, and the thing you do with your eyebrow. So right now I don’t want to think about shoulds and shouldn’ts. I want you. The real way.”

  He kissed her, banging her against the mirrored wall, his body pushing against hers. She felt the hard length of him grinding into her stomach, the pulse of his breath, and the cool smoothness of the glass behind her. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she wrapped her legs around his waist and ground back, drowning in the lust that consumed her. More, more. She dare not say it, afraid of . . .

  The thought flitted away like a flutterby, because his hands were moving down her sides, thumbs brushing the edges of her breasts, her sides, then her hips. She’d pushed him too far, past his boundaries. Finally.

  He shoved up her skirt, and she sighed at the feel of his hands on her bare thighs. She was caught between the sensations of his mouth against hers and his fingers trailing higher, edging the bottom of her panties and then slipping beneath. She sucked in a breath.

  More, more, more.

  He brushed her crinkly hairs, stroking back and forth, and then lower. She was throbbing, aching, wanting . . . him.

  She shifted, moving against his fingers. Her kisses were getting more feverous, and she let her body move the way it wanted to, grinding against him. His fingers were fully beneath the silky fabric, rubbing over her sensitized pubic area.

  “Touch me,” she whispered, pleaded.

  His finger slid into her folds, brushing her swollen nub and making her gasp. She was that close to the edge. He backed away, just enough so that she didn’t go over.

  “Do . . . not . . . stop,” she stuttered. “You will be much more d-dishonorable if you leave me like this.”

  He chuckled, low and throaty. “I don’t intend to leave you like this.” He gripped her behind, supporting her, and walked out of the studio, around the corner to his bedroom, and laid her on his bed. “I want to do it the real way.”

  Her heart jumped even higher. “The real way?”

  He hiked up her skirt, hooking his fingers at the edges of her panties and yanking them down her thighs. He ran his hands up her inner thighs, pushing them apart as he did so. He had a spark in his eyes, devilish and playful. “The real way.” Then he put his mouth on her and the world exploded.

  His mouth, warm, soft, playful tongue sliding and swirling around her, making her huff and puff. He tried to tease her, but she was way too gone for him. Hot lava flowed over her as she came.

  He kept running his tongue over her, sending electrical shocks through her. The feelings were intense, too much, and then . . . over she went again. He sent her one more time, and when she felt his tongue, she said, “Enough! I’m going to die, honestly.”

  He pulled off her skirt and panties, then shucked his pants and crawled up beside her.

  She shrugged out of her shirt, and when it cleared her head, he was taking her in with amazement and wonder.

  “You are so beautiful, especially with the flush on your cheeks.”

  He ran his fingers across her skin, her breasts, and over her stomach. Her skin trembled beneath his touch.

  “Touch me. Everywhere.” She needed to feel him.

  He slung his leg over hers and ran his hands everywhere, her neck, her ears, over the curves of her face, and then along her hips and even her legs. He touched her like a blind man would, as though absorbing every valley, dip, and rise on her body. Or, she realized, like a man who hadn’t touched a woman like this before. She was the first woman he’d touched. The thought of it sent a tremor through her.

  His gaze followed his hand, taking in her body as it moved across her. “No man has ever touched you like this?”

  She shook her head. “No one but you.”

  “I don’t deserve . . . this treasure.”

  She put her hand against his cheek. “Yes, you do. There is no one else I want to share this with.” The only light in the room came from the hall, barely enough to illuminate the bed and their bodies. She got up and turned on the light. “I want to see you. See us. Everything.”

  Her gaze skittered from his chest, his erection, his thighs, hungry to see all of him. She sat on the bed and ran her hands over him, no doubt with that same wonder on her face.

  “You’re the first man I ever touched like this.”

  He anchored his hands behind his head. “Then touch all you want.”

  The invitation sank into her, like a sponge soaking in hot water. She did, tracing his nipples, running her finger down the center of his stomach, around his belly button, and touchi
ng the velvety tip of his penis. It twitched, making her jump. She laughed, embarrassed by her reaction. “Did you do that on purpose?”

  He shrugged. “It’s involuntary.”

  She ran her hands down his inner thighs, feeling the hairs on his legs rub against her palms. His muscles were hard, well defined from all that sword practice, no doubt. She moved back up, cupping his balls, and then wrapping her fingers around his penis.

  His body stiffened, toes flexing when she’d put her hand on him. She leaned down and traced her tongue across the tip of him, tasting the astringent drops of semen. He sucked in a breath at that.

  She ran her tongue down the length of him. A tremor went through his body. She grinned. His body, hers to explore, all she wanted. When she had brought him to toe-curling status, she worked her way back up, kissing, licking, loving the taste of him. She straddled him, the most intimate part of her pressing against his stomach. She felt powerful, strong.

  He, however, was frowning. “I don’t have any condoms.”

  “Well, we know we’re clean. And I’m too early in my cycle to get pregnant.” She’d worked with a woman who was trying to get pregnant, and gotten an education on fertility.

  “Thank God.” He rolled her over so she was under him and reached down between her legs. “Mm, still wet. You’ll need that.”

  “Will it hurt? Not that I’m afraid of that, but just wondering.”

  “I’ve heard it might. I’ll be gentle.”

  She tightened her fingers on his shoulders. “Don’t be gentle.”

  He kissed her, then trailed down her neck, dipping his tongue into the hollow at her throat. He took his time, loving her with his mouth, even while his erection pressed into her stomach between their bodies. She wrapped her leg over the back of his, stroking with her foot. Her hands moved over his back, down the dip of his spine and over the firmness of his behind.

  He shifted and ran the tip of his penis up the length of her thigh. She moved against him, inviting him in. He was gentle anyway; she knew he would be. He slid into her by degrees, pulling out, then nudging in a little farther. He cupped her shoulders, holding her close.