Lynne Connolly

by The Chemistry Of Evil (Triskelion) (lit)

  When he turned she was staring at him, the sheet clutched to her breasts. “Evan? What happened?” Her voice sounded dry and hoarse.

  He went over to her, throwing the comforter over her shaking body. “I don’t know. I thought you were choking. What can you remember?”

  She buried her face in her hands. “It was that dream again. Archie came to me, said it had all been a mistake, that he loved me.”

  “Wait.”

  Remembering his coffee Evan went downstairs and fetched it in a faster time than he would have thought possible, had he been thinking about it. “Here, drink this. It might be a bit hot.”

  Sofie couldn’t take the cup, she was shaking so much, and so Evan held it for her, one arm around her shoulders to hold her steady. He wouldn’t let her talk again until she’d drunk half the cup. “Can you tell me now?”

  She nodded and he put the cup down so he could put both arms around her. He felt a need to hold her tight and safe, as much for his sake as for hers. She lifted her head, leaned on his shoulder, and looked up at him. “Archie said he loved me, that he’d made a mistake. He asked me to forgive him. Then he changed, Evan. Into someone else. His face changed as I watched. A man with long, dark hair and black eyes. They burned into me. People say that as a metaphor, but they really did.”

  As Evan watched her eyes filled with tears, but other than a sniff she showed no sign of crying. “They hurt, as though he was flaying my skin off. Then he put his hands around my throat and I felt a pressure from inside, as though I’d swallowed something that was choking me. That’s when it all changed. I heard a woman’s voice shout, “That’s enough!” and he let go. Is there a woman here?”

  “No.” He lifted a corner of the sheet and dabbed up her tears. “Nobody but you and me.”

  She tried a shaky smile. “It was only a dream. But I’ve never had a dream that vivid before. I think, if the woman hadn’t stopped him, Archie, or whoever it was, would have killed me.”

  “You were certainly choking for real. Would you like some more coffee, or perhaps some water?”

  “Water would be nice.”

  He was loath to leave her again, afraid she would somehow have a relapse, but she needed the water. He fetched it from the kitchen, and brought up another glass, full of ice. Even though the choking had been the result of a dream it had scared him beyond thought.

  Sofie was sitting up in bed, holding the empty coffee cup. When she turned to take the water he saw something, a shadow on her neck. “Hold still,” he ordered, and moved the sheet away.

  Five marks. Fingerprints. He checked the other side. Three there. Low down, as though someone had been pressing down on her throat. He was the only other person there, and he hadn’t yet slept. “Oh God!”

  “What?”

  Silently he fetched her portable mirror and held it so she could see. She paled. “Evan, what is this?” She turned an accusing gaze on to him.

  Convict Fighter. He couldn’t blame her. It was the natural reaction for someone like him. “I didn’t do it, but if it makes you feel safer there’s a lock on the door.” He drew back, not touching her any more, waiting for her to order him to leave.

  She stared at him, beautiful dark eyes wide with an emotion he couldn’t interpret. “What are you talking about? Why should I care if there’s a lock on the door?” She paused, lifting her hand to her throat. It was a slender hand, untouched by calluses from her work. She must take care of them. “Evan, what is it?”

  He stared back, unable to articulate what he was feeling. All he knew was that if she sent him away now, all the feelings he had about himself would be confirmed. He wouldn’t be surprised. Life would go on. It would just be missing some of the things his mind sometimes yearned for, before he distracted it with monitors and networks.

  “Evan, you won’t leave me, will you?”

  “I’ll be here as long as you want me to be.” He meant it. Every word.

  “Then don’t go.”

  “You don’t think I – “he made a helpless gesture.

  Her eyes reflected her shock. “Of course not! I know it wasn’t you. It sounds silly, but I know you wouldn’t.”

  He let his breath out in a soundless sigh. “No, I wouldn’t, but there’s no reason for you to believe that. I’ve been in jail, I’m a solitary person, I’ve studied the wilder side of life. Many people would consider me the prime candidate.”

  “Not me.”

  She meant it. With a rush that felt like fresh blood to his brain Evan knew Sofie meant it. Not naiveté, not ignorance, but belief, belief that went deeper than thought, deeper than reason. “Sofie!” With an outbreath he opened his arms wide and without hesitation she went to him.

  He held her. It was enough, smoothing her body through the sheets; relieved to find her trembling had stopped. “Do you want me to stay?”

  “Yes. I don’t want to be alone, Evan. I want to be with you.”

  She lifted her face to him, and he saw her surrender. Everything she had she would share with him, everything she was she gave. Evan drew breath at the enormity of her offering. He wouldn’t take it lightly, wouldn’t waste it. He’d wasted enough opportunities in his life. Not this one. Keeping his gaze fixed on hers he stood and scooped her up in his arms. “You don’t want to be alone? Neither do I, Sofie, neither do I.”

  He took her to his bed on the sleeping platform and deposited her gently on the pristine sheets, removing the ones she had wrapped around her and drawing his comforter over her with a reverence he hadn’t known he possessed before. Still looking at her he undressed, letting his clothes fall where they would. Then he joined her. “I’ll stay with you,” he murmured, drawing her close. “Sleep, Sofie. I’ll be here.”

  “Don’t you want to –” she paused.

  “Not tonight. Unless you want to. It’s enough to have you here, to be able to look after you.” He laughed shortly, self-derisory, but with a center of gladness he knew it would be hard to suppress. He didn’t try. “I don’t want anything to get in the way of us enjoying each other. Your experience tonight needs some thought. It needs some consideration.” He lifted himself on one elbow, and picked up one of her curls. “When we make love I want nothing between us. You’re tired, Sofie, and scared. I’ll look after you tonight. I won’t leave you, I swear.”

  “Thank you.” She lifted her hand to caress his cheek. He turned his face into it and kissed the palm.

  He lay down again and drew her to him. He felt his insistent erection, but somehow it wasn’t important. He wanted her to feel safe with him, to feel wanted and needed for her own sake. Nothing was as important as that. He was content.

  *

  Sofie was the first to awake. She was facing Evan, tucked into the curve of his shoulder. It would be nice to find out what time it was, but she would have to move, and she didn’t want to wake him. He was warm, and she felt she was in a nest with him; their own special nest.

  Content and happy, after the wrenching dream of the night before. She could feel the marks on her neck, low down, as though someone had held her in place while stifling her. She would have to find a high-necked shirt to wear if she didn’t want people to ask questions.

  As she watched Evan opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was her, and she saw the pleasure warm the dark depths. “Morning.”

  “Good morning.”

  When he leaned over to kiss her it felt natural and right. She let herself enjoy. His mouth was as warm and welcoming as his body, his chest touching the tips of her nipples in a tantalizing caress of nerve endings.

  Sofie opened her mouth and let him in. He accepted the invitation, his tongue sliding into the depths of her, opening her for him. The intimacy shook her. It was as though they already knew each other, although the delight of discovering was still before them. Sofie felt no fear, no apprehension, but a delicious anticipation of the pleasures to come. The pleasures they would introduce each other to.

  His hand came up to cover her breast,
gently caressing, cupping the weight in his hand. She felt his groan through her whole body, his arousal resonating through them both.

  He finished the kiss and drew back, but his hand stayed where it was. “Sofie?”

  She said nothing, but gazed up into those fathomless eyes and gave her permission with all her heart.

  “I’ll make it good for you, I promise.” He bent his head and took her nipple into his mouth, caressing with his tongue, making her feel every nerve, every sensation.

  Sofie allowed herself to feel everything and to respond. She threw her head back against the pillow and curled her arm around him, feeling the muscles of her back tense under her hand. “That feels so good,” she murmured, wanting to tell him more, but unable to find the words.

  She spoke with her body, let it move the way it wanted to, responding to his caresses. When he felt her he whispered encouragement, murmured it against her flesh, warm and exciting.

  This had never felt so right. Mutual pleasure, mutual desire. Reaching up she stroked his chest, firm with muscle, lightly furred with dark hair. “Mmm,” he murmured, smiling down at her. “That feels good. Touch me. Feel me.”

  He caressed her body, smoothing his hand down her side and stroking her until she felt like a cat, relaxing under his caresses. A tension began in her, feeling like a thread drawn taut. But it would never snap. He wouldn’t let it. His mouth followed his hands, trailing damp kisses over her skin.

  He came back up the bed, his eyes blazing with passion, making Sofie catch her breath at the need she saw in him. The wanting. He drew away and reached his hand out to the small locker that stood by the bed. Then he tore his gaze away from her and opened a drawer. “Dammit!”

  “What is it?”

  “I’ve run out of condoms.”

  She took his hand. “You don’t need them. I’m on birth control.”

  “Oh Sofie!” He leaned forward and kissed her, leisurely and long, then drew back. “You take my breath away, showing me trust like that. But we can’t. If we make love unprotected, I’ll enter you in more ways than one. Once the link is made, it can’t be undone.”

  “What link?” Her mind fogged with passion, Sofie found it hard to think.

  “The mind link.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  His hold on her loosened. “You will. It means never being alone, your mind always merged with mine.”

  “Can you make me do things against my will?”

  He smiled. “No more than you can. Not yet Sofie. Now is not the time to learn a new skill.”

  “Oh.” She pulled back, struck by a new thought. “Wait, I have some condoms!”

  “I thought you said you were on birth control.”

  She smiled, and explained. “Condoms are useful for archaeologists working in the field. They can hold samples sterile, until they can be analyzed. You know earth and deposits, that kind of thing.”

  “Ah.” He let her go, grinning. “Just as well I know you, otherwise I wouldn’t believe that in a million years. Hurry, then, or we’ll have to start all over again.”

  Sofie laughed and heard his responsive chuckle as she went to fetch her purse, where she knew there were several condoms. He was right. This was their first encounter, and their first step into real intimacy. It wasn’t the time to get involved in something as permanent as the mind link he had described to her. It could even prove to be embarrassing.

  In her room Sofie found her bag, but couldn’t at first find the condoms. Not until she emptied it on the floor, too eager to be back with Evan for careful searching. Her hand closed on a foil package, then with a wicked grin she picked out several more. A curved object lay under another. It was the whistle Archie wanted, coming to hand easily, although she had searched her purse several times looking for it.

  Carrying the condoms she made her way back to Evan. With a welcoming smile he threw back the covers, his erection jutting heavily towards her. She slid in, feeling his arms going about her, and handed him the packets. He put them aside and pulled her close, his mouth descending hotly on hers.

  The door to the apartment opened and closed. Its heavy thump was unlike the sound of any of the other doors. Evan sat up at once, his body shielding Sofie, so she couldn’t see who had just come in. When she felt him relax she knew it was all right.

  “Miranda, when will you ever knock?”

  A female voice called out from below. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were back. Didn’t you go to England? Didn’t you like it? I wanted to use that macro you wrote for me, and I can’t find it on my computer. I know where it is on your machine.”

  Sofie heard a few clicks and machinery hummed into life. The woman continued, oblivious to her presence. “Do you want coffee?”

  “Miranda, we’re not alone.”

  His voice stopped her in mid babble. Evan moved aside, revealing Sofie after he had drawn the sheet up to cover her breasts.

  There was a silence. Sofie saw the head of a silver-haired woman, so silver she suspected a little help at the salon. She couldn’t see the rest of the person. A touch of humor entered Evan’s voice. “You should have knocked, you know. Miranda, please meet Sofie Adams. Sofie, this is my mother, Miranda Howell.”

  “Oh my goodness, Evan!”

  “You thought I was celibate, perhaps?”

  “Well nearly, especially recently.” The head disappeared, and her voice drifted up to them. “I’ll fix coffee. Have you eaten? I guess not. I’ll find something.”

  Evan turned to face Sofie, smiling. “I’m sorry. She never knocks. She’s the only person who can get in without knocking except for us. Do you mind?”

  Her face flaming, Sofie began to see the funny side. She had felt like an adolescent girl, caught in flagrante with her boyfriend, but she was a grown woman, and she certainly wasn’t ashamed of what she was doing with Evan. Or what they had nearly done. He leaned forward and gave her a gentle, closed mouth kiss. “I’m sorry. Can we take a rain check? Please say yes, Sofie.”

  “Yes.”

  He closed her mouth with another kiss, this one needy and passionate. “I want you very much,” he murmured, before he turned to throw back the sheets.

  Sofie wanted him too. As she went to shower and dress she had to suppress the passion he’d aroused in her. Tempted to use her hand, she refrained. It was something she wanted to share with him, or not at all. She would save it all, and hope he felt the same way she did.

  She dressed quickly, in a pair of black DKNY jeans and a high-necked ribbed top, also black. Stopping to brush her hair, she didn’t tie it back, and only applied a little make-up, just blusher and mascara. She had enough vanity to want to present herself decently to Evan’s mother, but too much pride to overdo it.

  Evan waited for her outside her door, dressed in faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt. He bent to kiss her, and took her hand, leading her to the stairs. They went down together.

  Mrs. Howell was seated on the Barcelona chair. She had pulled out a table from the wall, one Sofie hadn’t noticed before, because when closed, it must slot into a space cut out to receive it. The inviting smell of fresh coffee filled the apartment and the table also held orange juice, and a rack of toast, together with boiled eggs in a dish. Without hesitation she took Sofie’s hand, smiling an unshadowed welcome. “Well I’m delighted Evan has found someone, and someone so pretty, too! He’s never brought anyone here before. Have you the proper clearance from the ever vigilant Cristos?”

  Evan drew a chair back for Sofie to sit, and dropped a light kiss on her head before going to take his own seat at the other side of the table. Sofie hesitated, then reached for the coffeepot, serving them all while Evan brought his mother up to speed. “Sofie’s a consultant at the FBI. Her roommate was killed by the same person who killed Meghan, so the Agency wanted to put her in a safe house. I persuaded them to leave her with me.”

  “Just as well you have a safe house, then.”

  “I would have gone with her, if they
hadn’t let her come here.”

  Sofie stared at him in shock. She never knew he’d planned to do that. How long had he wanted her, then? He saw her shock, and reached over the table to take her hand. “Miranda, if you begin to matchmake, I’ll kill you. It’s early days yet.”

  Very early days. She appreciated his words, but withdrew her hand so she could eat. She was hungrier than she could remember being since she had left the States to go to England for her marriage to Archie.

  “Whatever,” his mother said, with a careless wave of her egg-spoon. “But I’m delighted to meet you, Sofie. What do you do for the FBI?”

  “I’m a forensic archaeologist.”

  Mrs. Howell lifted her head, her lipsticked mouth curving in a smile of sheer delight. “You’re English! Did Evan go to England to fetch you?”

  Evan interrupted her reply. “Yes, I did. That’s why I wasn’t away long. Miranda, you must promise not to let people know she’s here. The Bureau thinks she might be a target.”

  “Oh goodness, no! Of course I won’t tell!”

  Sofie found herself warming to Evan’s mother. She was a slim, impeccably groomed woman, dressed in a skirt and blouse, the jacket of the suit carefully draped over the back of her chair. Unlike most beautifully dressed women, she didn’t intimidate Sofie with her style and presence. It seemed to be a part of her, something she didn’t consider. She moved easily in her expensive clothes, and from the way she attacked her eggs and toast, didn’t seem to be the type who lived on rice cakes and water.

  The meal was accomplished with some laughter and a great deal of inconsequential chatter, seemingly effortless, but Sofie knew that kind of poise and confidence was only achieved with a great deal of effort. Evan seemed to get along very well with his mother. Sofie wished her own relations with her surviving parent were as easy, but her mother had been understandably nervous and tense since her father’s murder.