by John Corwin
I wasn't wearing any underwear, and it sent a naughty thrill through me to show him what lay beneath the skirt when I obliged his request. He sprang from the bed, and pulled me close, running a hand beneath the skirt to squeeze my bare bottom.
"You are so yummy." I kissed his bare chest.
He growled. "You're the yummy one."
"Moi?" I batted my eyelashes.
He threw me on the bed and buried his head beneath the skirt. His tongue pressed against my clitoris, sending hot waves up my legs. I didn't think I had another orgasm left in me, but my beautiful demi-god knew how to switch me on in an instant. I cried out as he brought me to climax.
After another delay, I concluded the fashion show with the long formal dresses.
"You look ravishing in every color," he said, admiring me in a curve-hugging black dress, "but purple and black are definitely my favorite colors on you."
"Why thank you, Mr. Rock. I do so aim to keep the boss happy."
He grinned, and pulled the skirt he'd ravished me in earlier from the 'Yes' pile. "I'd like you to wear this for dinner."
"Isn't it a bit cold for skirts?"
He pressed his bare chest against me. "I'll keep you warm."
As if in agreement, a hot flush spread through my body. "I have no doubt you will. What exactly are we doing this evening?"
He shrugged. "Something fun."
His phone rang, vibrating against the nightstand next to his bed. Tyler groaned and picked it up. "I thought I said no phone calls." He listened for a moment. "Fine. I trust your judgment. You vet them, make sure they're up to par, and I'll look over your report." He ended the call and set the phone back down.
"What was that about?" I asked.
"It was Joe. He's building my army."
Chapter 33
"Your army?"
Tyler chuckled. "My security detail to keep the Exorcists away."
A layer of tension seemed to slide off my body. He would be safe. "I'm glad. I think Joe knows what he's doing."
"I do too. That's why I hired him."
I sensed an opportunity to dig for more information, and took it. "Joe said you gave him a second chance. That he suffered from post-traumatic stress syndrome but you hired him anyway."
Tyler's cool green eyes regarded me for a moment. "He told you that?"
"I'm nosey."
"Determined to understand me?" His lips twitched upward in what I hoped was amusement.
"He said you gave him a second chance. I think it shows you care."
Tyler pressed his lips together. "I wish I could say that were true."
I felt my head flinch back in surprise. "Why else would you do it?"
"I was curious to see how he would perform. To see if he could succeed despite the demons plaguing him."
His impersonal answer left me cold. "Just curious? Is that how you feel about us?"
He shook his head. "No—well, yes. But it's so much more than that. I desire you every minute of the day. It's impossible to keep my hands off you."
I struggled to keep the disappointment and anger out of my voice. He'd explained this to me before, and I was only making myself angry. "What about when you took over Thomas Jones? You said you wanted to help him, to keep him from committing suicide."
"I thought it would be fun." His eyes narrowed. "Are you upset over the way I made my decision about Joe?"
"No," I said with some difficulty, feeling more disappointment than anger. "I just thought it meant you cared. I thought that's what it meant with Thomas Jones when you wanted to improve him."
He put a hand under his chin, eyes lost in thought for a moment. "I liked improving OnTech and Thomas's situation when I was him because it made me feel good." His eyes looked back at me. "But, Emily, most of that centered around me. About making me feel good. I wish I could truthfully say otherwise, but my motives were selfish."
Is he being selfish with me? I looked at the closet full of clothes. At the "Yes" pile. At the rumpled covers on the bed where we'd made love—no—where we'd had sex over and over again. I looked back into the concerned eyes of the beautiful man on the bed.
Perhaps I'm being selfish too.
I wanted him to be mine. I wanted him to feel more for me than he did for a toy. I wondered if I could find answers—real answers—about his kind. I just had to know if it was possible to make this more than a fun sexual romp. To change him.
"You don't like seeing the truth about me." Sadness reflected in his eyes. "Please don't condemn me for it." He gripped my hands in his and kissed them. "It's what I am, and there's nothing I can do about it."
"You can't?" I felt my lower lip tremble. I bit my traitorous lip and looked away. "Or won't?"
"I want to more than anything," he said, his voice soft. He looked at the floor. "If I could be a normal human, if I could know love, I would do it in an instant." He released my hands and stood up, pacing away from me. "My friends said I was becoming weak like a human when I felt bad about what we were doing to people. When I tried to stop them. My father told me I was defective for feeling pity."
"Isn't pity like sympathy?" I asked, my heart aching and hoping to find some common thread to link him to me.
He shrugged. "I don't know. The people we used as playthings didn't deserve their fates. I know how it feels to be used like that. To be abused." His mouth clamped shut as if he'd said too much.
"Abused? How?"
He shuddered violently, and his face went absolutely white. "I—I can't talk about it." He strode into the bathroom and splashed water on his face, gulping air as if he couldn't get enough.
I placed an arm on his back. He threw my arm off and backed away, terror flashing in his eyes before he seemed to realize it was me.
"Oh God, Em, I'm sorry." He took a step forward, hands outstretched, as if afraid to touch me.
I took his hand and pressed it to my cheek. "It's okay, babe. We don't have to talk about it."
He closed his eyes, his breathing calmed as if my hand were a balm. "Maybe I should. Maybe it would help."
Seeing the lost look on his face brought tears to my eyes. What terrible things had they done to him? "I'm here whenever you want to try."
His eyes opened. They were dark and green like the middle of the deepest coldest ocean. "I will. I promise."
I nodded, unable to speak in the face of his forlorn expression. I heard my ringtone echoing from somewhere in the room, and found my purse under a pile of clothes. I looked and saw a missed call from an unknown number. I listened to the voicemail, and discovered it was from my father.
"Hey, sweetie. Your mother is in town, and we want to get together for dinner tomorrow evening if that's okay. I finally got a mobile phone. That's the number I'm calling from. I won't always have it turned on though." Dad chuckled. "Anyway, call me back so we can make plans. Love you. Bye."
"Who was it?" Tyler asked.
"My dad. He and my mum want to have dinner tomorrow." I gave him a sideways glance. "Would you like to meet them?"
He managed a smile. "Are we at that stage of the relationship?"
I laughed. It sounded like a crazy laugh. "I have no bleeding idea what stage we're at. But since I hardly get to see my parents these days, we might as well take the chance."
"I love it when you talk British to me," he said, some of his playfulness reasserting itself.
"Oh do you?" I let the full flavor of my natural accent come through. "Well, Mr. Rock, I can talk British all you like."
He shivered. "Do you have any idea what you do to me, Emily?"
I kissed him on the nose. "I'd better call Dad before we do something that makes me forget."
Tyler laughed, a boyish look back on his face. It warmed me to see that look again, instead of the lost, frightened man who'd taken his place moments ago.
Dad answered on the third ring. "Hello?"
"Hi, Dad." A smile crept across my face. "Glad you finally joined us in the twenty-first century."
&n
bsp; "It had to happen sooner or later."
I heard someone talking in the background. There was the sound of something rubbing against the microphone, and then another voice chimed in.
"Emily, dear, how are you?"
"Mum!" The sound of her steadfast voice made me realize how much I missed her, despite her bossiness. "I'm good. How are you?"
"Fine, dear." She sighed. "Patrick told me you didn't seem well when he visited. Is something the matter?"
My dad was far too observant for his own good. "I'm great."
"Well, that's good to hear. Shall we expect you for dinner tomorrow?"
"Yes. I'm bringing a friend with."
"Your roommate Isabel?"
"No." I paused, and regarded Tyler, unsure what I should call him. "My boyfriend."
Tyler's eyes brightened, and he beamed a wicked smile at me.
"You have a boyfriend?" Mum sounded surprised.
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Mother."
"I see. Well, your father and I look forward to meeting Mr..." she trailed off expectantly.
"His name is Tyler."
"Very good. We'll see you tomorrow at Parker's on Ponce."
"That's a restaurant?"
"Of course, dear. It's in Decatur. Your father highly recommends it."
"Sounds good, Mum. Cheers."
"Good day, Emily."
I ended the call.
"She sounds like a proper British woman," Tyler said, his amused grin back in place.
"You could hear her?"
"Yeah." He tapped an ear. "Slightly better than normal hearing."
"And you know where this Parker's place is?"
He nodded. "It's fancy."
"Can you do me a favor?"
He kissed me. "Anything."
"Can we go in the BMW? I don't want my parents to get the wrong idea with the Lamborghini."
Tyler laughed. "They might think you're a gold digger?"
"No, no." I smiled. "They're not flashy people. They might get the wrong idea about you."
"Ah." His expression sobered. "So the gold-plated Rolls Royce is out too, then?"
I pushed him playfully. "Yes it is, Mr. Showoff."
A phone rang faintly from somewhere down the hall. Tyler looked confused for an instant before hopping up. "Guess that's my new phone. I'll be right back."
I started picking up clothes and hanging them after he disappeared down the hall. A moment later, I heard him talking. It sounded like business, judging from the financial terms being tossed around.
He appeared in the doorway holding the phone to his ear, and mouthed, "Work." I smiled, and licked my lips suggestively.
His eyes seemed to catch fire. Then he waggled his finger at me and walked back toward the kitchen.
My phone dinged. I picked it up and saw a message from George Walker.
We urgently need your help.
I sighed and walked around the room, trying to decide what to do. I couldn't simply leave Tyler, not now.
What's the emergency?
As I waited for the reply text, I began to think about my strange side job. Compared to discovering Tyler was demon possessed, hunting down people infected by a super-soldier serum seemed rather normal. Until recently, I hadn't been certain my sixth sense was a real thing. George Walker had shown me it was most definitely real and quite useful.
I thought back to the vision I'd seen upon our first encounter—the blazing white orb. I'd experienced similar visions around other Custodians as well, though some of them like the woman with the rod exuded something different. As far as I knew, none of the Custodians were infected by a serum, but were, as George had put it, enhanced. The infected people, on the other hand, seemed to have cold, white parasites inside them.
In addition to the strictly sexual tingles Tyler and Tyler-as-Thomas had made me feel, I'd also detected a hot, sensual vibe emanating from the pair. That vibe had come from a very supernatural source—a demon. It also explained the faint scent of something burning when I was around him.
A series of dots began to connect as I considered the sorts of people I'd felt vibes from over the years. I'd been to hospitals and never felt anything around sick people. I felt absolutely nothing from the vast majority of people. Why should I be able to detect someone infected with a strength serum? What was so special about a few select individuals that triggered my intuition?
There were a great many other unexplained phenomena, not the least of which was the mysterious transportation used by George Walker and his Custodians. If my other senses were to be believed, that SUV had lifted into the air and flown us around town.
"I've overlooked something," I murmured. My life had been governed by a completely different set of facts than what confronted me right now. I'd rationalized even patently obvious oddities. Why would a helicopter pick up an SUV in the middle of town and carry it to schools? Why wouldn't we simply take the helicopter?
I pictured the vial that had fallen from the drug dealer's purse at the high school. It had been filled with a dark red fluid. Blood?
Whether I wanted to admit it or not, everything had a decidedly supernatural feel to it. Tyler was paranormal in nature. The same could be said of George, Mr. Sticks, and the so-called infected people. Was there a connection?
A chime from my phone caught my attention as George replied to my earlier query.
We're searching for a base of operations for the dealers. You can help us find it.
I thought long and hard about it. It will have to wait. I simply can't right now.
Your help is crucial. We will attempt to find on our own. Contact me should you change your mind.
I felt quite guilty avoiding duty for a fun night with Tyler, but supposedly George and his people had been doing this a long time before knowing about me. I'd seen them in action. They could survive one night on their own.
"Something the matter?" Tyler said from the door.
I put away my phone and smiled. "No, just checking up on Isabel."
He looked at me as if he wanted to devour me on the spot. "Did you look in the shoe boxes?"
I'd been so distracted by my thoughts that I hadn't. "Not yet." I felt my lips peeling into a wide smile as I contemplated the treasures within.
After a brief shoe show, we took the Lamborghini to a restaurant with salsa music blaring from inside. The valet gave the car a hungry look as he handed Tyler a claim ticket. Tyler didn't seem to notice or care about the stares he and the car generated. He walked around to my side and opened the door for me, extending a hand to help me out of the low seat.
A girl in a too-short skirt stared at me as Tyler slipped an arm around my waist. I felt acutely uncomfortable under her glare, and wondered how anyone accustomed themselves to being the center of attention.
"Dude, what kind of work do you do to have a car like that?" the girl's male companion asked, his eyes fondling the car in wide-eyed appreciation.
An amused grin crossed Tyler's face. "I wish I could tell you that it was the product of hard work, but it's not." He shrugged. "I just happen to have a rich daddy."
The other guy barked out a laugh. "Maybe I should work harder on having a rich dad too."
His girlfriend did not seem amused. I wondered if she was considering working hard to have a rich boyfriend instead.
The hostess took one look at Tyler when we came in, and seemed to forget how to speak in the face of his glorious smile. She managed to clear her throat after a moment. "How many?"
"Reservations for Tyler Rock."
"Oh, Mr. Rock! Yes, the top level is reserved for you." She grabbed a couple of menus and took us up a flight of stairs to a large balcony area overlooking a dance floor and live band below. Tables and chairs were stacked up against the back wall. In the center of the floor, a candle burned atop a lone table.
"Is this to your liking, sir?" the hostess asked.
"Perfect." Tyler handed her what looked like a hundred-dollar bill.
Her eyes wen
t wide. "Oh, my!"
My man certainly had a way of making girls say that. I felt a flush in my face as I thought about the exclamations he got out of me.
I looked over the menu at all the available tapas. "I have no idea what I want."
"We'll just order a bit of everything then," Tyler said.
The waiter showed up a minute later with margaritas on the rocks, and Tyler ordered food for the two of us. After the waiter was gone, my demi-god smiled at me.
"I ordered margaritas. I thought it'd be fun to keep with the theme."
I took a sip. "Mmm. Delicious."
He stood and held out a hand to me. "In the meantime, we should practice."
"Practice?"
"Your salsa."
I raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you should let me have a couple more margaritas in that case."
"Oh no you don't." Tyler took my hand and pulled me up. "It's easy. Just follow my lead."
He showed me the basic step. I only stomped his toes a dozen times in the process, but he seemed more amused than anything. Then he demonstrated the spins. After failing to make me spin in whatever direction he wanted several times in a row, he stopped and backed away, a grin on his face.
"You need to stop fighting me, Emily."
"I'm not fighting you. I don't know which bloody way you want me to turn."
He laughed. Took my hand and pressed it against the top of his chest near the shoulder. "Keep your arm stiff. When I turn, you'll turn."
I did, and found it much easier to follow his lead. "That wasn't so difficult."
"I know. Just keep that arm firm, and things will work out."
He took me through some slow steps, guiding me with a patience I clearly didn't have, as I cursed like a sailor every time I botched a move. After getting a few moves down pat, he sped up to match the tempo of the live music below. Somehow, despite my unfamiliarity with this style of music, his tutelage made it feel quite natural.
I squealed with joy as he led me through several tight turns, and somewhere in the mix, I let go of my inhibitions, let him guide me instead of trying to anticipate his every move. Our food arrived, and Tyler led me back to my chair. We were both breathing heavily, grinning from ear to ear, and flushed. His hand rested atop my bare leg, just under my skirt, and I felt the electric tingle of his touch race along my skin and into my belly.
