by Allie Gail
“Wait,” he calls. “Just one more thing.”
I pause, waiting to hear what he has to say.
“What sort of flowers are you partial to?”
I can't stop myself from snorting a laugh. “Why? Are you planning on sending me flowers?”
“Humor me. It's a relatively simple question.”
“I don't know,” I tell him impatiently. “White roses, I guess. Why do you want to know?”
“Tell you tomorrow.”
“I look forward to it,” I mutter under my breath.
“Of that I have no doubt. Sweet dreams, Judith Sterling.”
His words linger in my mind long after I've undressed and crawled into bed. I lie awake for the longest time, trying my best to relax, but it's difficult with my thoughts wandering off in every direction. It's close to three in the morning by the time I finally succumb to a deep and troubled sleep.
I sleep, and I dream.
I dream of him, hovering over me as I lie silent and still.
His eyes are hypnotic. Watching me, holding me mesmerized, the endless expanse of blue turning cloudy with desire. I try to break the strong pull of his gaze, but I discover with calm resignation that I can't move. Not my hands, not my head, not so much as the flutter of an eyelash. A lecherous smile creeps slowly across his face. My helpless submission amuses him.
I can't move, but I can still feel.
I feel the soft tickle of his breath against my cheek. The fragrant, velvet caress of a bed of rose petals cradling my body. The firmness of his erection pressed against my pulsing heat. It feels so good, so agonizingly good, more pleasurable than anything I've ever experienced. I struggle desperately, aching to grind myself closer in a wanton bid for sexual release, but I can't move. I want to cry out in frustration but no sound will escape my throat.
“Ju-dith...” he murmurs, drawing out my name as if to savor the sound of it on his tongue. “You really should be careful what you wish for.” His voice is music, a song so beautiful it must have been written in tears.
There are a thousand possible verses to this song. Fear. Heartbreak. Pain. Loss. Death. I wouldn't doubt that soon I will know them all.
“Naïve child,” he purrs, dragging his thumb slowly across my lips. “You have no idea the depths of the rabbit hole you've tumbled into. Do you?”
Wake up. Wake up. It's time to wake up...
“There's no need to be afraid. All you have to do is trust me.” His tongue trails a path up my neck, ending in a gentle kiss on my jaw. “Don't you know I can give you everything you ever wanted?”
I don't doubt that either. But I also know the cost, the price he is asking, and he is mad to think that I would ever agree to it. Trust him? I'd come to less harm trusting a hungry wolf.
But oh, how I crave just one tiny taste of what he has to offer.
His teeth nip gently at my bottom lip, and I feel for the first time the silkiness of his hair as it brushes against my face. I'm shameless enough to want him to kiss me. To bury his tongue in my mouth and claim me, just for this fleeting moment in time. What would the sanctions be for kissing a demon, I wonder?
Then I remember that none of this is real. It's just a dream.
“Your soul will be mine. And you'll offer it to me freely. Won't you, love?”
I stare up at him helplessly.
“Speak,” he murmurs softly, and suddenly my muscles are released from their trap.
I know that I should take this opportunity to fight him. Scratch out his eyes, tear at him with my teeth, slam my forehead into him until his blood flows like a river.
Instead, I close my eyes and thrust my hips upward, whispering his name.
“Loc...”
The low rumble of laughter is kind, yet mocking at the same time. “See? You can't deny me. This is your destiny, Jude. In the end, you'll always give me what I want.”
“No,” I protest faintly. “You're wrong.” But the words mean nothing, nothing at all, not so long as I am reveling in the hedonistic feel of his body pressed against mine.
Oh, God...I am shaking all over, so close to losing control.
“You have much to learn.” One hand glides over the curve of my breast, feather-light, just barely touching me. “Shall I teach you?”
My arms find their way around him, clinging to his naked shoulders, and I willingly surrender because there's no going back, there's no stopping this, it's happening and I'm a single heartbeat away from shattering into a million sparkling pieces.
“Yes...”
He presses his lips against my ear, and whispers softly.
“Time to wake up, Judith.”
And then the bed beneath me turns to dark water and all the white rose petals go drifting away on the waves.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Chapter Nine
After that, sleep is impossible.
By the time I give up tossing and turning and jerking the covers up only to kick them off again, it's past nine o'clock and Russ has already left for work. I heard him scuffling down the hallway over an hour ago. I have nowhere to be myself, so there's no hurry to get up. Normally I would appreciate the opportunity to sleep in, but this morning I'm too fidgety and keyed up to enjoy the luxury.
I could lie here staring at the ceiling all morning, but what's the point? I can't fall asleep, and I'm not sure I want to. May as well get up since staying in bed isn't doing me any good. The least I can do is take advantage of the time off by getting a few things accomplished.
First things first, though. And first would be a long, relaxing soak in the tub. With any luck I can sooth my jangled nerves with an overdose of Winter Candy Apple. I submerge myself in the bubbles, staying there until they fizzle away and my fingers turn wrinkly. Because nothing, and I mean nothing, beats a hot bath on a dark, rainy day.
After dressing comfortably in an oversized hoodie and leggings, I gather up a load of clothes and trot downstairs only to find Max watching TV in the living room.
“Hey.” Dropping the laundry basket, I flop down beside him on the couch. “What are you doing here?”
He gives me an apologetic look. “Sorry. I hope this isn't weird for you or anything. Russ asked me if I wouldn't mind hanging out here while he's at work. Said he didn't want to leave you here by yourself.”
“Really.” Somehow that doesn't surprise me. I can't be too irritated though – my brother's just trying to look out for me, and I appreciate that he cares enough to worry about my safety. Even if it is unwarranted. What could any of us do in the event that Loc managed to somehow free himself?
Not a damn thing, that's what.
“It's not just him. I don't like the idea of leaving you here alone, either.”
“Why? Worried he'll get loose?”
“Anything's possible.”
Not exactly what I wanted to hear. “Have you come up with a solution?”
“We're working on it.”
“So...no,” I translate.
“Patience, kiddo. Like I said, we're working on it.”
Sliding down, I stretch out my legs and prop my feet on the coffee table. “Not to sound redundant or anything, but I really wish Russ had thought this through for just five freaking seconds before he went off on his half-cocked mission to hijack a demon.”
“Yeah. You and me both.” Noting my orange-and-black striped socks, he playfully reminds me, “You do realize Halloween isn't until tomorrow, right?”
“Mm. I hate it when it falls on a weekday, don't you?”
“Doesn't matter to me either way. I have to work. You got big plans?”
“Oh, yeah. Huge. Scary movie marathon and chocolate bender.” Thanks to the assortment of fun size bars I picked up while I was out shopping. Not for the trick-or-treaters, since nobody ever comes way out here. But what's Halloween without candy? The way I see it, it isn't official until you've consumed at least five pounds of sugar and binge-watched every Michael Myers movie ever made. “Sucks you have to work.”
> “I usually end up working holidays. It's just temporary, though. I consider this job a stepping stone. Once I get enough experience under my belt, I'm planning to eventually become an instructor. I can't see myself doing this forever. It's too stressful and the hours make it almost impossible to have a personal life.”
“I don't blame you.” I can't imagine the pressure of having to deal with life-or-death situations. It's not something I could do. I don't have that kind of confidence in myself. “So. Anything interesting happen last night?”
“Slow night, which is always a good thing.” The corners of his eyes crinkle as he grins. “We did get a call for a well-being check and get there to find this pissed-off old lady. Ninety-four years old, and she's threatening to whack us with her cane if we don't get off her property, pronto. We ask if she realizes her daughter's been trying to reach her, and she lets us know in no uncertain terms that she's neither stupid nor senile. That she's been watching her stories and will pick up the phone when she's good and damn ready. Oh, and her parting words – get this – don't let the front door hit ya where the good Lord split ya!”
“Ha! She sounds like a pistol. Her poor daughter!” I smile to myself, thinking of Gabby. Funny, everyone thinks we call my grandmother that because she talks a lot, but that isn't why. When Russ was little he couldn't say 'Grandma' very well, so it came out as Gabby instead and soon everyone was calling her that. “That'll be my grandmother one day, I promise you. She's seventy and hasn't even thought about slowing down. You know what she did for my nineteenth birthday?”
“No...what?”
“Okay, don't laugh. But she hired one of those strip-o-gram cops to come to the house and act like he was going to arrest me. Picture it. I'm standing there all freaked out wondering what I could have possibly done wrong and suddenly the policeman starts ripping off his uniform and grinding his junk all over the place. It was so embarrassing, I could have died!”
“Oh, come on now. Why was that embarrassing?”
“Gee, I don't know...maybe because I've got a middle-aged man in a thong lip syncing I'm Too Sexy while my lunatic grandmother is shoving Rite Aid coupons down his crotch and trying to dance with him! Oh, and I'm pretty sure she copped a feel, too. She's such a little perv. You have no idea.”
“Copped a feel...oh my God! You didn't just say that.” Max is laughing so hard there are tears in his eyes. “That's awesome – that is the best pun ever. I just have to ask one thing, though. I gotta know. Did he do his little turn...”
“No. Don't say it. Don't you dare say it!”
“Do his little turn...”
“Stop!”
“Did he shake his little tush on the catwalk?”
“Oh, shut up!” I can barely talk through my giggles. Just thinking about Gabby twerking with that stripper is enough to send me into hysterics. She was wearing orthopedic shoes and curlers under a hairnet, for Pete's sake! I could kick myself for not having the foresight to record the experience. Describing it after the fact just doesn't do it justice.
“Your grandma sounds pretty cool.”
“Oh, she is. We've always gotten along really well. I didn't even think twice when she offered to let me stay with her. She makes the best roommate ever.”
“Do you think you'll be going back to Tulsa then?”
I try not to take it personally that he keeps bringing that up. “Depends. If I can find a job, then I think I'd prefer to stay here. For the time being, at least. I know you'll think I'm crazy, but I kinda miss it here.”
“Nothing crazy about that. You grew up here. Guess that's why I never thought about leaving. This place is home to me. Always will be.”
And because he chose not to leave, he may never get the opportunity. How ironic. “In case I haven't mentioned it before, I'm really sorry you got dragged into all this. I feel bad about it.”
“Why do you feel bad? I'm the one who should be apologizing to you.”
“Actually, I think it's Russ who should be apologizing to both of us!”
“Hey, it's something to do, right? What else did I have going on?”
“You are way too good a friend to that warped brother of mine.” I cross my ankles and gaze out the window at the dreary gray clouds. Rain is falling in a slow, quiet drizzle. Maybe I'll get a nap in later, seeing how it's the perfect weather for it. “Whatever happened with your date? What was her name...Valerie, right? You never said how it went.”
“I told her we'd try and reschedule for some other time. To be honest, just between you and me, I'm hoping she won't call. I don't have time for this right now. It was one of those situations where I kinda got roped into going out with her. This guy I work with kept going on and on about setting me up with his wife's friend, and I couldn't think of a way to get out of it without seeming rude.”
“Oh.” Why is it I'm secretly a little glad to hear that? Pathetic. Truly pathetic. I decide I better change the subject before he catches on that I'm fishing for information. “Have you had breakfast?”
“Yeah, I stopped and ate after I got off work.”
“You look tired.” He does. His eyes are bleary and it looks like he's having a hard time keeping them open.
“I am,” he confesses with a tired smile.
“You wanna go lie down upstairs? I can make up the spare bedroom for you.”
“No, you don't have to do that. I can just stretch out right here for a while.” Yawning, he kicks off his sneakers before giving me a questioning look. “If that's okay? I don't want to be in your way.”
“You won't be in my way. Hang on, I'll go get you a blanket. It's chilly in here.” Hopping up, I go find a fleece blanket and a spare pillow to bring to him. “Here you go. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”
“Thanks, Jude.”
“No problem. Sleep well.” I switch off the lamp, but leave the TV on in case he's still watching it. I doubt he is. Judging by the way he's yawning, he's already stumbling over the threshold to unconsciousness.
Leaving him to rest, I haul the basket into the laundry room and start my load of clothes washing. Then I head into the kitchen to figure out what to do about dinner. After a quick inventory of the freezer, I toss some beef tips, potatoes, water and seasoning into the crock pot and set it on low to simmer all day. I figure I can add some veggies and tomato sauce later and we can have soup. This damp, chilly weather just seems to call for some nice hot comfort food.
That done, I slap together a peanut butter sandwich and head into Dad's old office, intending to fire up the computer and set to work revamping my resume. I've got to somehow compose it in a way that doesn't make me come off as a complete loser. Which, sad to say, is a major challenge considering my former job lasted less than ninety days. At least I was provided a letter of recommendation before I left. It's very favorable, so I'm hoping that will count for something.
I'm not going to think about last night's dream. I'm not. It was a fluke. Concentrate, Jude, concentrate...
By the time I've got the revision ready to print and the laundry done, my restless night is starting to catch up with me. I can't stop yawning and the dark, gloomy weather is only exacerbating the situation. I had fully intended to check out the local job listings but screw it, that can wait until after my nap attack.
Curled up under the blanket, Max stirs as I pass by. He opens one eye partway and mumbles something that sounds like tommyshit.
“What?” I take a few steps closer so I can hear him.
“Time is it?” he repeats hoarsely.
“Um...almost one o'clock.”
“Mm.” He blinks a few times, never taking his bleary eyes off me. “Had the weirdest dream.”
“Yeah, lot of that going around.” I've been trying like hell not to dwell on my own nighttime wraith. As it is, I could barely keep my eyes off the basement door when I was in the kitchen earlier. Not the faintest sound came from downstairs. What does he do all day long? It's unsettling just knowing he's down there, prob
ably plotting our demise. Lord knows he's got plenty of time to think about it.
“I dreamed a bunch of people were screaming while some bald guy in a hockey mask was just sitting there folding laundry.”
Stifling a giggle, I pick up the remote and switch off the end credits of Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter. “Probably isn't a good idea to sleep with the TV on.”
“Oh. Yeah, that'd do it.” Grinning sleepily, Max stretches and then tucks his arms underneath the pillow behind his head. “Could be worse, I guess. We could have Jason Voorhees locked up downstairs.”
“Not sure how that would be worse,” I comment dryly.
“True. At least Jason can be killed. Theoretically.”
“You obviously haven't seen the movies.” Nudging his feet aside, I make myself comfortable on the far end of the couch. “Violence isn't the be-all, end-all, you know. Have you even tried reasoning with him?”
“Many times. You'd get better results trying to reason with a brick wall. I'm telling you, there's no talking to him.”
I open my mouth to say I don't know, he doesn't seem THAT bad, but immediately rethink it. He'd probably go nuclear if he knew I'd been paying nightly visits to the prisoner. If I can just keep it under wraps until the end of the week, there's a chance Loc will honor his word and tell me what he knows. It's a small chance, true, but better than none at all.
“Let me rephrase that. Have you tried reasoning with him when Russ wasn't around threatening him with bodily harm?”
“Yep. Sure did. Might as well have been talking to myself. He wouldn't even say anything. Just sat there staring at me with those weird-ass eyes. Creeped me the fuck out, let me tell you.” He makes a face.
“Maybe I could give it a try,” I suggest, just to gauge his reaction. It's about what I expected.
“Forget it. The less you're involved in this, the better.”
“It's worth a shot, don't you think?”
“No. I don't.”
“And you call me stubborn,” I mutter under my breath.
“Hey. I can be just as stubborn as you two.”
“So what's the plan then? Assuming you've come up with one.”
