by Anne Conley
Suddenly angry that she couldn't get the image out of her head, she watched the lights flash green, casting everything in green light. Thoughts of Rafe grew in intensity. Grace even thought she caught a glimpse of his face on the dance floor. She had to get out of there.
Pulling out her cell phone, Grace went outside, where the line of guys was. Brad answered on the third ring.
"Hello?"
"Hey."
His voice softened. "Hey, Grace. What's up?"
"Nothing much. Me and the roomies went dancing, and I missed you watching. That's all." She hoped she sounded flirty, even though she could kick herself for calling him. She wasn't her mother.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
A girly giggle came through the phone and Brad's muffled, "Hang on a minute, ‘kay?"
"Oh. You have company. I'm sorry to interrupt." Embarrassed, Grace blew out a breath of frustration. Of course he was moving on. He'd been dumped.
"Grace, wait."
"No. It's okay. I'll let you go." She hung up with the full intention of doing just that. She wasn't sure why she'd called him in the first place. He was a good guy, but he wanted more than she was willing to give. She felt stupid for caving and calling him anyway. Was she that much like her mom? Did she have to have a man to be somebody?
Sighing heavily, she turned and went back inside the club. The green lights had transitioned to red, giving everything a maniacal cast, and she returned to the dance floor.
She typically danced with her eyes closed, feeling everything around her. She could smell the sweat and spilled liquor, mingling with various colognes and perfumes. She opened her eyes, briefly, and thought she saw Damien of all people. She shuddered and closed her eyes again, trying to lose herself in the techno beat. But she couldn't. When her eyes closed, she could see the lights flashing against the back of her lids, and her heart suddenly began to pound erratically, her breath quickened, and an irrational fear of the unknown flooded her body. Snapping her eyes open, she heard a maniacal chuckle inside her head.
Grace was convinced she was losing it. The next thing she knew, she'd be seeing Brad everywhere she looked, and she couldn't handle anymore of the madness.
Twenty minutes later, she was still not lost to the rhythm and frustrated that she was still thinking about her problems, so she went back to the bar to look for her friends.
Nicole was there already, doing some sort of shot with a guy. Grace walked up behind her, and said, "You ready soon? I'm not feeling it."
Nicole nodded, wiping her mouth. She turned to the guy next to her, saying, "Thanks for the shot, man. Gotta go." Neither one of them heard his protests as they walked off.
"I hate when guys think they can shell out five bucks for a shot, then expect to get laid afterward. Pisses me off. Did you see him staring at my tits?"
Grace laughed and linked her arm through Nicole's as they went in search of Bree.
They found her in a compromising position in a hallway leading to the bathrooms. She and another guy were making out, pretty heavily against a wall, his hand up her skirt.
Nicole tapped her shoulder, "We're ready when you are."
Groaning a little, Bree acknowledged them. "Okay, fine, give me a sec." She whispered into his ear, gaining a smile, then Grace and Nicole watched with amused smirks as the two lovers swapped cell phones to enter their numbers. The look on his face, as they left, made Grace wish she could want a sane person the way he obviously wanted Bree.
Stopping at a convenience store on the way home for bottled water for everybody, Grace again thought she saw Rafe's reflection in the glass of the refrigerator case. The sickly green pall, cast over everything inside the store, must have been messing with her vision. The grief in his eyes made her flinch inwardly, but when she turned, there was nobody there.
She drove home silently, lost in her own thoughts while Nicole and Bree discussed their conquests.
"I really hope he calls me. He was so hot. And a great kisser." Bree was positively swooning in the back seat.
Nicole turned to face her. "If he doesn't call, promise me you won't call him."
"Why not?"
A sigh escaped. "It's too needy."
"Why is it needy if I call him, but not if he calls me?"
"He's supposed to be the one calling. He's the man."
"That's sexist." Bree pouted.
"Whatever." Nicole's favorite retort.
"You're just jealous." Grace was.
"No, I'm not. I'm pragmatic."
"I don't even know what that means." Bree huffed an exasperated swish of air from the back seat, that Grace felt on the back of her neck and inwardly giggled at the pair.
They continued on in this vein the rest of the trip back to the hotel room, Grace only halfway listening.
Chapter Nineteen
Grace had gotten a ride to the island with Nicole, who was working the dinner shift. Grace was sick of the hotel room, packed to the gills with salvaged belongings. They had asked housekeeping to not come in everyday, as there was too much junk in there for the maids to be effective. Besides, they didn't see the point in having someone come in and clean up after them every day. It wasn't like they were on vacation or anything. They just stopped by the cart occasionally for clean bedding and towels.
Grace was sitting on the Sea Wall, on a bench that overlooked the Gulf waters. She had to remind herself that she wasn't on duty, to stop scanning the waters and counting swimmers. She was there to enjoy the view, for once.
She could still feel the wind whipping her hair around, and feel the blistering heat. She kept her feet underneath her, so that the people riding by in the surrey bikes didn't run over outstretched legs. Even in the off-season, those things were everywhere. She watched a family pedal by, the father doing most of the work, while the kids squealed with delight in the backseat and the mother looked bored beyond belief.
A presence next to her startled Grace out of her people-watching. She turned to see Damien sitting there, silently watching her. The epic, underwater battle seemed like a faraway dream to her, and she managed a meek smile, unsure if it had been real or not.
"Grace." He acknowledged her with a smirk.
"Hey." She really wasn't sure what to say to him. Did you really try to pull me into some underwater lair? Or did I imagine that?
"You busy for dinner?" He asked her pleasantly.
"Um…yeah. I have plans with my roommates." She was totally lying, but he didn't need to know that.
"You're lying to me." Okay, that didn't work. "But that's okay. I'm used to it." His hand reached towards her arm, and his finger stroked it, sending chilly goosebumps over her. A wave of nausea gripped her stomach and she pulled away. "You're a good girl. I know that. Good girls don't really get me." She met his intense black eyes with her cool blue ones. "Just know that I won't give up that easily, Grace. I'm going to pursue you, until you're mine." He let loose with a cackling laugh before melting away right in front of her.
Blinking rapidly, Grace decided to get out of the heat. She was truly losing it. She crossed the street and went inside a restaurant to get a cold drink and cool off. It didn't make any sense. She spent all day in the sun for a living, why was the heat getting to her today?
She sat at the table in the air conditioning and drank her soda, waiting for the effects of Damien's sudden disappearance to wear off. Her mind's vision went green and a voice came to her.
"You're not crazy, Grace. These things are happening to you. Talk to me, Grace." It was Rafe's voice, and she realized that it had been Rafe's voice all along. Rafe's voice accompanied the green haze during her saves. Was that why he had seemed so familiar when they'd first met? Grace saw two scenarios to the situation. One, she was losing it. The stress of her job, the hurricane, and house-hunting, compounded with her confusion over her emotions about Rafe, and his admission of archangelness was causing some sort of break-down. Or two, it was all true.
That revelation caused her
to call the waitress back over so she could order a basket of French fries covered with chili and cheese. Comfort food.
What was happening to her? Why was Rafe's voice inside her head? Had it been his voice the whole time? She wracked her brain, trying to remember details of the other experiences with the green light in her mind. Until Rafe had moved in with them, the green had only happened when she'd been working a save. She just couldn't be sure.
This crazy man had worked his way completely under her skin, and she was beginning to doubt her own sanity.
She was overwhelmed suddenly with images of Rafe, sensations of his touch on her skin. His kisses. She lowered her head into her hands and groaned aloud, earning herself amused looks from neighboring tables.
Grace couldn't get him out of her head.
"I'm not leaving."
The voice again. Jeez, she was imagining him inside her head, his voice inside her head.
"You're not crazy." His voice was soft, reassuring. "And neither am I."
She made a conscious decision to talk back to him, being careful to keep it in her head. Grace didn't need any more looks from restaurant patrons. "Yes, you are. And I am, too. I'm talking to you, aren't I?" Her “inside the head” voice was a whisper, as if she didn't even want herself to hear.
His chuckle in her head made her warm all over. "Call me, Grace. I can explain some of this."
"Why do I need to call you? Apparently, we can talk this way."
"Because you don't believe this is really happening."
"You're right. I'm deluded." Apparently, this part came out aloud, because the waitress had just arrived with her chili-cheese fries and gave her a strange look.
"You okay, hon?" Grace nodded, before digging into her greasy comfort food.
"Are you?" The voice inside her head was persistent, and pissing her off.
"No. I'm not. I'm seeing things. I'm talking to myself. The only guy I can't stop thinking about is insane, I've effectively lost my job. I'm living in a hotel room. No I'm not okay!" She mentally screamed it at her imaginary Rafe voice.
"I'm coming to you."
"NO!"
"Fine, then." He sounded hurt, and Grace felt guilty for hurting her imaginary friend's feelings.
"Just leave me alone."
"No." The voice inside her head was resolute. "I can make you want me."
Suddenly, Grace felt warm and she could feel the flush rise up her cheeks. She already wanted him. That was part of the problem. Rafe chuckled inside her head. Suddenly, an intense pressure registered between her legs, and she crossed them. Her stomach sank. He could get inside her head, but could he do this?
"Yes. I can." She wasn't aware that she had consciously asked the question, but she couldn't squeeze her legs together hard enough to relieve the pressure, so she shifted in her seat, looking around to see if anybody was watching her.
Her breasts felt fuller suddenly, and her nipples were tingly and erect. She could feel the blood flow to her nether regions, and she sat up straight, arching her back to press down on the seat.
"Would you stop?" She hissed inside her head.
"Shh…I'm concentrating." She could almost feel his hands on her body, sending shivers of delight across her skin. Grace couldn't stop squirming in her seat, feeling the invisible pressure build at the apex of her thighs. She tried to squirm and press the seam of her shorts against herself, but it was only making the sensations worse. She looked around again, to make sure nobody was looking before pressing her hand against her sex, under the table. Another chuckle from inside her head.
Her mouth was dry, and she tried to swallow past the lump in her throat, but she couldn't. Her breath was coming in gasps, and she willed herself to not succumb to the desire that was filling her body. Keeping her body still and afraid to breathe, Grace pressed her hand against the crotch of her shorts, willing whatever was coming to come. Just do it quietly.
The pressure was so intense she could barely breathe, and she could feel waves of heat crashing through her body. "Come on, Rafe…Just do it…Please." Her voice inside her head was a desperate plea. Nothing had ever made her feel this before. Not even herself.
“Really?” The voice in her head sounded smug.
“Do it or stop messing with me. Please…” She had crossed her legs, then wrapped her foot around her calf, squeezing furiously, hand on her crotch pressing to relieve pressure. She was almost out of her mind.
“I’m coming to you. I need you to be thinking of me this way. We could be so good together.”
His voice inside her head was picking at her seams, unravelling her with its husky depth. And then it was gone, leaving her aching with need.
She choked down her fries in blessed silence, more confused than ever.
Grace had never been so sexually frustrated in her life as she was when she left the restaurant, her belly full of fries, her mind blessedly empty. She had no idea where to go, or what to do with herself, now that she didn’t have a job, a home, and her friends were at work. She stood there, blinking into the sunlight, wondering what was next when a voice at her elbow startled her.
“Hey, Grace.”
It was Damien, and Grace didn’t know what was real anymore. The man standing there was wearing different clothes from the Damien she’d met earlier in the day. Now he had on a pair of surf short and a tee shirt, looking casual, yet somehow very put together, with his designer sunglasses and impeccable hair.
“Hey?”
“You busy? You want to go grab some lunch or something?”
So earlier must have been a hallucination. She’d already told him no once today. She thought.
“I just ate. Sorry.” She gestured to the place she’d just come out of, and his face fell. Her core still ached, and she couldn’t stop herself from looking at his lips, wondering how they would help relieve some of the pressure that was pent up inside her.
He smirked at her. “Dinner? We could go out, or you could come to my place and let me cook for you?”
She couldn’t explain what came over her at that moment, except she was horny and he was being sweet. She nodded. “Sure. Your place sounds fine.”
His face lit up in a smile that Grace thought was attractive, if a little predatory. She ignored the sudden chill she felt and agreed to meet him at the ferry landing.
“I’m so glad you finally agreed. I take it you don’t have other men around at the moment?”
“Um…no. Not really.”
“Not for long, anyway. I imagine you’ve always got a hound dog or two sniffing around.”
“Yeah, well…”
“I’m flattered. See you tonight.” His hand brushed her shoulder, and his flesh was refreshingly cool in the heat of the day.
She watched as he turned and walked away, not disappearing, or melting away. He just walked like a normal person.
Grace was losing her mind.
Chapter Twenty
That night, Grace found herself in Bree's car on her way to Damien’s, not sure what to expect, realizing she was open to just about anything.
She had worked herself nearly into a frenzy with anticipation of the unknown. Grace had no idea what to expect with Damien, but she was eager to find out. She had to do something to get Rafe out of her head, and this seemed like the most promising way to go about it. Nothing else had worked.
He lived on Bolivar Peninsula, which was a twenty minute ferry ride on the other side of Galveston. So including the drive from her hotel, she had plenty of time traveling to get nervous.
She had parked her car on Galveston and walked onto the ferry, hoping Damien would keep his word and meet her there. Sure enough, as the ferry pulled into place, Damien’s dark head could be seen waiting in the parking lot next to a shiny black Hummer.
As she walked off the boat, she watched him stride over to her and let herself be pulled into a hug. Damien’s arms around her were different from Rafe’s. She didn’t feel the warm reverence from Damien, only a visceral nee
d in his touch that she responded to, willingly. She turned her face up to his to smile and say something, but before she could say anything, he lowered his mouth to hers and took her lips in a kiss which promised such carnal delights her toes curled up in her strappy little sandals. His hands roamed down to her backside, pulling her body against his, and Grace gasped at his audacity.
Then she pushed herself against him.
Damien pulled away just a little, but continued holding her. “I’m so glad you finally agreed to come. I have a lovely meal planned.” He squeezed her hips before taking her hand and leading her back to his Hummer.
His house was beautiful, stunning in its immensity as well as the stark contrast to the hurricane’s destruction. All around, Grace could see debris bulldozed into piles, vacant foundations, and raised piers without houses atop them. In the middle of the destruction was a massive white beach house with wrap around balconies and windows everywhere. Grace was stunned.
“You didn’t have any damage?”
Damien shook his head, his face a mask of smug satisfaction. “Nope. Not a crack.”
“Count your blessings.”
“I don’t need to. I am who I am, and have nobody else to thank for that.” His odd comment left her speechless as he led her towards her house.
When they got inside, Grace sniffed. “Something smells good.” She’d forgotten what Damien smelled like, smoke, until she got inside his house and smelled him everywhere. It was a little off-putting, but she tried not to think about it too much. People couldn’t really help their body odor, and maybe he just had a weird choice in cologne.
She walked behind Damien towards the side of the house that faced the beach.
“What a spectacular view! I could just sit here and watch the water all day long.” Grace turned to see Damien watching her, an indecipherable expression on his face.
