by Jenna Ryan
She went to a place in her head where the air felt like midnight-blue silk, where no one and nothing could break the silence of a serene bayou breeze.
Until a finger tapped her shoulder and she turned to find herself in an entirely different place.
Gone was the verdant bayou beneath a slender sickle moon. She stood now in murky shadow. And inside that shadow, she sensed a presence. It paced, and it prowled, and it bided its time. It laughed softly in spite of its pain. She felt somehow it had known from the start how and where to find her.
How and where she would die…
“Jesus!” Gasping, Rosemary surged out of the trance she’d slipped into as Tanner braked in front of the hotel. “What?” she demanded, when he scowled at her. “What just happened?”
He turned the music down. “You shouted something.”
“No, I didn’t.” She waited a beat, then asked, “What did I say?”
“That misplaced trust was Ben’s biggest flaw and it’s no wonder he’s dead.”
“I—really? I said that? All I remember is seeing someone in the shadows, and whoever it was, was laughing because he’s always been a step ahead.”
Tanner hauled their packs from the backseat. “Ahead of you or me?”
“Both of us, but more you, I imagine, since I don’t actually know who ‘he’ is, and I’m pretty sure you do.”
“I have a thought.”
“You have a face to go with that thought. All I have is the name Traynor, and the really strong hope that Skeeter, another name I have and who unnerves the hell out of me, has gone off somewhere to do whatever it is he does when he goes off.”
Tanner’s lips gave a reluctant twitch. “To answer your long-winded hope, sometimes he picks mushrooms, then hides out in an old shack until the swamp monsters he invariably conjures stop dogging him. The process repeats until his stash is gone. When it is, he crawls back to Papa Lucien.”
She waited until they reached the verandah and shook off the worst of the drenching rain to ask, “Has anyone tried to get help for him?”
“Frequently. His brain’s fried, Rosemary. Lucien knows it. He just can’t bring himself to have his son committed to a state institution. It’s one of the burdens of parenthood, I’m told, and one of many reasons why I live the way I live.”
“Alone and disconnected.” She removed her cap, wrung out her hair.
“Unencumbered and out of the loop,” he corrected.
When she spun to face him, she suspected her wet ponytail came close to slapping him across the throat. Unfortunately the idea of that amused her. She fought a smile. “I’m sorry, Tanner, really, but I just don’t get you. I also didn’t do that on purpose,” she touched her wet tail, “so you can ungrind your teeth.”
“I’m not grinding my teeth. I’m wondering why the hell I didn’t call Crucible when you showed up on my doorstep, unannounced, uninvited and with a gun pointed at my head.”
Still amused enough not to be offended, she strolled closer, dropped her pack and ran a fingernail diagonally along his cheek. “I’ll tell you why.” Leaning in, she stage-whispered, “You liked my excellent ass.”
In a move so fast she didn’t see it coming, he yanked her against him and crushed his mouth to hers. While thunder crashed and lightning streaked above the bayou, his kiss robbed her of both thought and movement.
For a stunned moment, her mind and body were assaulted by sensation. Hunger layered over need that layered over greed. As swiftly as her mind had stalled out, her immobility broke. Emotions collided inside. Suddenly, her hands were in his hair, and she was matching him dip for dive in a feverish exploration of his mouth.
Desire spun into a whirlpool that threatened to consume her. Dragging her lips free, she managed a breathless, “We can’t do this out here, Tanner. Lucien, Skeeter, vapors.”
“Know it,” he agreed between kisses. “Where’s the door?”
“Behind me.” A picture of the cage-style elevator slipped in and made her smile. “Too bad about the long, noisy ride.”
He shoved the door open and got them in. “Pretty sure we can pass the time.”
With her head still in a tailspin and her senses spiking, it didn’t immediately occur to Rosemary that the lobby stood in heavy darkness, broken only by vivid forks of lightning and a single kerosene lamp on a table near the access corridor.
“And then there’s that,” she finally realized. “No power, no ride, no room, no sex.”
“You have a very poor imagination, lady.”
“I—whoa.” She laughed when Tanner swept her into his arms and headed for the stairwell. Not wanting to waste a perfectly good opportunity, she nuzzled his neck. “If you’re planning to shoot out the lock, I’d rather have my feet on solid ground.”
He captured her mouth again, sliding in so deep she lost her bearings. “Use your mind,” he suggested.
“Use my—what?”
“Turn the lock.”
Drawing back, she stared. “You’re not serious. You do understand that telekinesis is completely different than telepathy, right?”
“In that case, we’ll have to hope Lucien foresaw a potential power outage.”
“No generator?”
“Only for the essentials.”
“As in not the elevator.” Grinning, she tasted him again. Still better than chocolate cake. “Papa Lucien has strange priorities, Tanner. Are you, uh, planning to shoot out the lock?”
Reaching down, he twisted the knob. The stairwell door screeched like a banshee on death row, but it stuttered open to musty blackness and a wide set of stairs. “Not tonight.”
Rosemary glided her tongue over his cheekbone as he climbed. “Tell me about your heritage.”
“What, human’s not good enough?”
“Having met Skeeter, no. Any Apache or Navajo?”
“Possibly, on my mother’s side. My old man came from a family of dicks and assholes, both genders. Do you want details?”
She continued the lazy glide path to his jaw. “You have a lot of mean and mad inside, don’t you?”
“Rumor has it.”
She replaced her tongue with her lips. “Just so I know going in.”
His eyes glittered in the dim light from the lobby. “Just so you know going in, that mean and mad’s never directed at kids, animals or women.”
“If I thought it was, I wouldn’t be going up these stairs—or, well, letting you carry me up these stairs, which is totally unnecessary by the way—in the dark, during an electrical storm, with no clear idea of where we’re headed since I have no idea which room is yours.”
“Right across the hall from yours, angel. Why do you think I’ve been avoiding you for three sleepless nights?”
She smiled against the corner of his mouth. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Also, if and when we actually get there, maybe we can boost the sleepless count to four.”
“We can try,” he said, and setting her down, gave the second-floor door, now magically behind her, a push. “Welcome to purgatory, Rosemary.”
As he took full and greedy possession of her lips, it seemed to Rosemary he took possession of her lungs as well, because the oxygen flow to her brain quite literally ceased. All she could do was lead with her body and hope to survive a wicked onslaught of emotions she couldn’t begin to separate as she tumbled headlong into a murky world she knew she might never be able to leave.
If purgatory existed, she thought dizzily, this could be it. She only hoped that sex with Tanner would be worth the heavy price.
“You think too much, angel.” He spoke the words into her mouth and with a trace of humor. “I swear I can hear your mind telling you to cut and run.”
“My mind has no backbone. Fortunately, my actual backbone is quite strong.” She tugged off his vest and tossed it, then applied herself to his T-shirt. “You know this is crazy, though, right? Sex and us, I mean. Here, now, past, present, all things considered.”
He brushed his thumbs over
her jaw to the sides of her neck. “If you’re considering anything other than the bed across the room, we might as well both of us settle into wheelchairs next to Papa Lucien.”
A throaty mmm of acknowledgment was the best response she could muster as he slanted his mouth back over hers.
He explored with lips and tongue, drawing out sensation after shivery sensation. Blood throbbed in her veins, a voodoo drummer gone wild. Whatever he was doing was unlike anything she’d experienced before. The understanding of that, together with his intoxicating kisses, sent a shudder of anticipation rippling through her system.
Slipping her hands between their bodies, she unzipped his jeans. The hiss of metal made him jerk and her smile. “Now who’s thinking too much?”
“Stand on the edge of a cliff sometime, angel, look down and tell me you wouldn’t have a second thought or two about diving in.”
She brushed her fingers over his stomach until the hiss she heard had nothing to do with metal. “Standing.” She reversed their positions so the bed was behind him. “Looking.” Eyes dancing, she backed him to the edge. “Diving,” she said. And wrapping her arms around his neck, jumped up to wrap her legs around his hips.
They went down together, toppled onto a too-soft mattress that felt deep and feathery, like sinking into a cloud. Except this cloud was hot, and the heat sizzled over her skin and along her nerve ends to the blood that raced charged and molten through her body.
His dark eyes gleamed when he pinned her beneath him. “I didn’t know they made tanks tops with buttons.”
Her answering smile teased him. “The French do.”
“So I should be gentle and patient?”
For an answer, she grabbed him low and squeezed. “Do that, and I might get mean. I want sex, Tanner. Now. I’m not looking for gentle.”
“Good to know,” he said, and ripped the filmy fabric apart.
Tiny pearl buttons flew into the moody black. Beyond the window, lightning streaked and thunder crashed. Wind battered the walls and caused the old hotel to tremble on its bayou foundation.
Closing her eyes, Rosemary allowed sensation to sweep through her, let the hunger she’d been beating down consume her. The power might be out, but electricity whipped to such a frenzy inside her she thought she could shoot real sparks from her fingertips.
Tanner slid his lips over her throat. “Might make for an interesting display,” he murmured against her skin, “if I didn’t mind being reduced to a pile of ashes.”
Confusion wove through the mire. “Why are you talking about ashes?”
“‘Witchy Woman,’ angel. Sparks flying from your fingertips. I heard the song in my head.”
Her confusion deepened. “I was singing?”
His eyes glittered in the next bolt of lightning. “From your mind straight to mine. Yeah, I’m sure,” he said before she could ask. “And yes, I’m okay with it. A song sliding in’s not intrusive. Taking one out’s where the line gets rocky, and I get pissed.”
“I—hmm. Guess I’ll have to think about that.” She laughed out a gasp as his mouth closed over her breast. “Okay, thinking’s for later.”
How and where her bra, thong and capris disappeared to, she couldn’t have said. And didn’t care. Fire joined the sparks flashing inside and took her to a whole new sensory plane. He found the pulse that scrambled at the base of her throat, then scraped his teeth over her nipple and made her shudder.
She arched up to meet him as he moved between her legs. Her fingers gripped the sheets like a lifeline. She wanted everything, and she wanted it now. Her blood ran hot, and it ran fast. It pulsed like a disembodied heart with a life of its own and a need so fierce she thought something inside her would shatter.
Shifting beneath him, she set her hands on his shoulders. Her eyes squeezed shut. While nature vented its fury over the swamp, she savored the excitement building to a fever pitch inside, waiting for the eruption that would take her straight into the heart of the storm.
When Tanner slipped inside her, the storm broke. She thought she probably screamed, but colliding peals of thunder swallowed the sound.
There was a light show now, inside her head and across the bayou. She’d had sex before, but nothing that could touch this moment. Tanner made her feel things she’d never felt in her life. Although everything inside bubbled and swirled and threatened to suck her into a terrifying world of desire, she wanted more of him. Needed all of him.
He used his hands on her body, taking her up until her thoughts were nothing but a blur of color. Just as she reached the peak, he replaced his hands with his mouth and made her bow right off the mattress.
The orgasm spiraled through her from head to toe. The sheer force of it astonished her. Shocked and breathless, she grabbed hold of him and used the sudden burst of adrenaline to roll him onto his back.
“Not doing this alone, Tanner. Not a chance.” Her eyes shone down into his as she straddled his hips. Letting her head fall back, she lowered herself onto him. Took him inside and steeped them both in wave after wicked wave of pleasure.
She rode him, and she loved it. Night flight to somewhere. Not purgatory, that’s for sure. But some forbidden place.
Setting her palms on his shoulders, she absorbed the shudders of his body and hers. Her hair tumbled forward to frame her face and brush his as she slowly lowered her mouth to his lips.
“Big exclamation mark,” she said, and smiled. “God, that was so wild.”
“Wild,” he agreed, drawing a laugh as he deftly flipped her onto her back. “And not even close to done.”
Her body bucked, her pulse raced. Her eyes wanted to close as he came inside her again and set his hands on her breasts.
She couldn’t believe she had anything left to give, but wonder of wonders, she did. An untapped reservoir of desire and energy that whooshed through her like a shot of moonshine.
Everything around her sparkled silver-black. The light in her head dazzled and danced and whipped her emotions, good and bad, into a reckless frenzy.
Now that, she reflected, was sex as it should be. As it only could be when it wasn’t merely sex, but…
“Oh, my God!” Her eyes flew open, her heart skipped several hammering beats.
“You really need to stop thinking, angel,” Tanner murmured while she was still too stunned by her response to push him away. “Just let it be for a night.”
Could she do that? Rosemary wondered. But she thought maybe she could when he kissed the side of her neck and made her shiver all over again.
Worry simply floated away. The storm sounds crept back in, but only as far as she permitted them to creep. She had no pressing urge to shake off the spell she and Tanner had woven in this room. In fact…
A teasing spark ignited inside. Distracting him with her mouth, she rolled them right to the edge of the bed. Then she stopped the momentum with a hand planted in the center of his chest.
“We did it your way the first time, Tanner.” Clamping her knees around his hips, she pushed herself upright.
His lips curved into a lazy smile. “Is this you throwing down the gauntlet?”
“Maybe. Is this you reading my mind?”
“Your mind remains a deep, dark mystery,” he told her. “Your body, not so much.”
Her lips moved into an artless smile. “So you think.” Leaning down, she captured his mouth. “Prepare yourself, Tanner, for a walk on the wild side.”
* * *
Long, strident beeps designed to annoy him intruded on the Reaper’s pain-riddled slumber. “What?” he snapped, without bothering to regard the screen.
“Are you having a nice vacation?”
Shit. Leshad. As rich sarcasm flowed through the ether, the Reaper grimaced. He had to dig for a neutral tone. “I wish. As it happens, I’m replenishing my blood supply after losing almost half of it to a bitch shopkeeper who blasted me with a rifle I didn’t see even after she fired the damn thing.” Knowing his voice had risen in agitation, he cleared
his throat. “Sorry. Loss of red cells makes me testy.” With a cautious eye, he made a visual circle of the motel room he’d been confined to for God knew how many days. “Don’t worry, Leshad, I’ve been keeping tabs on the target in my own way.”
Leshad’s honeyed chuckle was covered with bees. “As I said before, I seldom bother to worry. What displeases me never does so for long.” The honey hardened. “As you’re aware, or should be, I’m not a patient man. I sent you to do a job. I expect you to finish it before I’m too old to form a vindictive thought.”
The Reaper’s jaw ached from clenching it. He scoured the shadows now, high and low. To his inordinate relief, he saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“My mind’s been playing tricks,” he admitted. “Bitch got me good. I’ll fuel up on carbs and get where I need to go. Next time we talk, the deed’ll be done.”
“Are you aware the shopkeeper you should have been able to take out blindfolded isn’t dead?”
Pain slammed at the base of the Reaper’s skull. “She’s incidental, Leshad. I’ll deal with her. You know I never leave loose ends.”
The pain went from slamming to brutal, a reverberating drumbeat he couldn’t believe only existed in his head.
“Can you hear that?” he risked asking Leshad.
“By ‘that’ do you mean the sound of a man whose effectiveness I’m seriously beginning to doubt?”
He wouldn’t retaliate, the Reaper promised himself. Only a fool tugged on Superman’s cape, or spit into the wind, or pulled the mask off that old…Crap. His mind was all over the place. He needed food, fast, before he started seeing things again.
“I’ll get the job done. I always do.”
“You always have,” Leshad corrected. Again, the honeyed sarcasm iced over. “For your own sake, don’t disappoint me again.”
The parting shot would have rankled if the drumbeat hadn’t become a steady thrum in the background. Sitting up, the Reaper pressed the heels of both hands to the sides of his head and counted.
He only stopped when the face of the ugly wooden doll, the one that had been haunting him since he’d gone to that fucking shop in the swamp, planted itself in his line of vision, and bared its pointed, wooden teeth in an evil smile.
