The Bend-Bite-Shift Box Set

by Hardin, Olivia

  Somehow Langston managed to hold the golden door open even as he left the room to check the front door of the apartment. Anxious curses slipped from Nicky’s mouth, and he placed Gerry on the bed before sticking his head into the door to try and find the giant. It was impossible to see into the next room, and he didn’t want to leave Gerry, so he waited.

  A moment later, Mére Owa bustled into the bedroom and boldly brushed past Nicky and through the portal. Langston followed her a second later.

  “Were you just gonna leave? I thought you wanted my help, boyo,” the dark woman fussed, slapping at Nicky’s arm with her blood-red scarf.

  “I was going to go back to the apartment and wait for you as soon as we got her settled here. I needed to get away from…”

  “I know, I know. Stop your fussing. You’re wife ain’t got much time if I’m right and we got to get crackin’ here!”

  “Wife?” Langston murmured, astonishment blanching his face. “It would seem there is much you have not told us, Nicky.”

  Nicky might have laughed at the expression on the big man’s face. It wasn’t easy to surprise the wise giant, but he was certainly caught off guard now. Instead of laughing though, Nicky groaned, putting his face in his hands and then rubbing the back of his stress-stiff neck.

  “Yeah, Langston, I guess there is… but the way I figure it, I should be entitled to some privacy, right?”

  Mére stepped between them and placed a hand upon each of their arms. “‘A little patience, and we shall see the reign of witches pass over, their spells dissolve, and the people, recovering their true sight.’”

  “Aw, c’mon, you crazy voodoo woman. Would you stop with the Shakespeare quotes?”

  Langston’s laughter reverberated off the walls. “Actually Jefferson said those words, though he was speaking of restoring republican government.”

  “I think I like you, Tolteca,” smiled Mére Owa, referring to Langston’s origins centuries earlier as an Aztec demi-god. She watched as her comment caught the giant off guard. The laughter tapered off, though the smile remained on his face, along with a hint of appreciation.

  “Can we get back to the important stuff here?” Nicky pleaded, taking the voodoo woman’s arm. “What do we do to help Gerry?”

  “Not we—you, m’boy. At least I’m pretty sure you won’t be interested in the Tolteca helping out with this solution.”

  Nicky closed his eyes and tried to pull in some patience. Langston’s mental feelers worked to ease his mind as frustration threatened to make him blow his top. He took a deep breath and looked down at the short woman. “Okay, so what is the solution?”

  “Jump in that bed and start knockin’ boots with your wife, boyo. That’s the solution.”

  An unsteady silence settled on the room. Nicky’s eyes widened, Langston’s cheeks blushed, and Mére Owa folded her hands out in front of her.

  “You heard me right. You need to get in that bed and make love to your woman. Now!”

  Her tone was strong and insistent. If the instruction wasn’t so absurd, he might have instantly jumped to complete the task. As it was, he issued a hysterical laugh before lunging for Mere. Langston stopped him with a single hand on his chest.

  “Here all this time I’ve been relying on you to help, and you’re nothing but an absolute kook!” Nicky railed at her.

  “We should hear what she has to say. She seems to know much about…” began Langston, but Nicky wrenched free of him.

  “Look at Gerry, Langston. She’s fucking unconscious! She hasn’t moved in days. Days, man! And this crazy-ass shyster wants me to have sex with her!”

  Mere’s face changed, flickering old and young like the screen of a television that can’t keep a signal. The two men watched her a moment until her visage settled back into the youthful one she preferred.

  “You do not know what she is, do you? She’s never told you what she is?” the Voodoo woman asked, shock clear in her expression. “I wondered why you hadn’t thought of it earlier, but now I see.”

  “See what?” Nicky asked, calmer now as he settled on the bed beside his wife.

  Langston stepped closer to Mére Owa before speaking calmly to her. “What is it that you believe we should know about Gerry?”

  “Why, she’s a succubus. She absorbs the greatest portion of her strength from the act of sex.”

  “Ah,” Langston nodded as if that answered all questions. “This is how she derives her ability to change her image. It is a tool she would use to secure a host.”

  “A host? What the hell? A host! You’re telling me my wife is a demon who stalks men for sex?”

  Mére grinned. “Well, she wouldn’t necessarily just stalk men…” Langston coughed and the woman blinked as she recognized her words would not help the situation. She decided she needed to explain herself better and continued. “You need to understand, a succubus isn’t as simple as that. They do not have to physically perform the act to get the energy. Though right now, in Gerry’s case, I believe it would be the most successful.”

  “What do you believe is happening to her?” Langston asked, eying Nicky as he stared down at the unconscious woman, an unsettled look on his face.

  “Succubae also have heightened mental abilities, empathic and sometimes telepathic. It is a strength and a vulnerability. Someone is inside her mind, and whatever is happening in there is destroying her. Do you not see how her life force is quivering? Wavering?”

  “Her life force?” Nicky asked, turning his attention back to them.

  Langston nodded, a serious frown crinkling his brow. “Indeed. Just in the time I have been here, it has diminished rapidly.”

  Nicky was quiet for many minutes. He gazed at the bare wall in front of him, his expression devoid of any detectable emotion. Finally, he closed his eyes and rubbed his palm across his mouth.

  “I don’t know if I can do it,” he finally confessed, pleading to Langston with his eyes. “I don’t know if I… I mean, isn’t it wrong?” He sighed, the stress evident on his face. “She’s not awake. She’s practically in a coma.”

  The giant stooped low, squatting down so that he could face his friend eye to eye. He placed two huge hands on Nicky’s shoulders, pressing and squeezing to offer the other man his strength.

  “This woman is your wife. I have seen many people and many cultures. There is something I have observed that is true for nearly every culture. Marriage is sacred when the pact is of love. Do you love your wife?”

  Nicky raised his chin high and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’d die for her.”

  Langston smiled. “You need not die for her today, my friend. Today you have only to make love to her.”

  ~oOo~

  Nicky splashed cold water into his face and snatched a towel from the bathroom rack as he made his way back into the bedroom. Gerry was wrapped up like a baby. Patting across his face with the terry cloth, he glanced at the locked door to the room and emptied a shaky breath.

  Langston and Mére Owa had left the room, promising not to return until he called them. The grinning look on Mere’s face said she expected they wouldn’t receive that call until Nicky had finished having sex with Gerry.

  His veins pumped ice cold as he looked back at the bed then down at his crotch. Talk about performance anxiety. Fuck! This is never gonna work if you don’t relax, he thought to himself. Get a grip, man.

  Things were quiet out on the square, and he approached the window to give himself a momentary distraction. Removing his jacket, he tossed it across the foot of the bed, rolling his head around to loosen his neck.

  He moved the shade aside with one hand before leaning the other against an old wooden chest of drawers. His fingers hit something, knocking it over. He was astounded to see it was an unopened bottle of W.L. Weller’s Special Reserve Bourbon, his favorite drink.

  “Langston. Damned know-it-all shaman,” he muttered but wasted no time opening the bottle and pouring two fingers into a glass also convenient
ly there on top of the bureau.

  He took a small sip, then another fuller one, and let the liquid gold ooze down his throat. It didn’t take long for the familiar warmth to finger its way from his belly toward his limbs, easing his tight muscles.

  “Oh, baby.” He looked back at the sleeping Gerry and walked to the bed slowly. He placed the glass of bourbon on the bedside stand as he continued speaking. “I hope this is the right thing to do. I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that you’re a succubus. I kinda think that’s something you should have mentioned to me when we were dating. Or at the very least before we said our vows.”

  Her chest rose and fell with breath, and he couldn’t help but notice those movements were smaller now. Her breathing was getting shallow. Dropping his rear on the bed with a plop, he slipped the blankets away from her and looked at her from head to foot. A hand rested against her belly, one of her fingers caught in the folds of her flowing summer dress. The other pointed out away from her side, her fingers curled toward the ceiling.

  He reached his own hand out and traced a line from her middle finger across the palm, along the blue veins on her wrist, and up to the bend at her elbow. He let his touch slip away from her skin so he could lean his weight on that arm.

  There was a tie at the neck of the halter dress and two pearl buttons. He tugged one end of the bow to release it and deftly slipped the buttons loose. His lips were dry and he licked at them before deciding to take another sip of his drink. While he swallowed he grasped two clumps of his t-shirt and yanked it out of the waist of his jeans and over his head.

  Nicky reached for the bottom of her dress then stopped a moment to look at the place where the fabric was open along the top of her breastbone, revealing creamy white skin. He pointed his index finger toward the hollow at her collarbone, dipping the tip into the curve and tracing up her neck to her chin and lips.

  “I love the feel of your skin, Gerry. All the goodness I possess, all that I never knew was there, drives its way to the surface when I touch you.”

  He wished she would give any sign that she could hear him, but all he could detect was the steady movement of her chest up and down as she took in air. He squelched his worry before taking the hem of her gown with both hands and sliding it up her body so he could touch his palms against her skin all the way up. The material bunched just below her beautifully full hips, and he slid both hands under her rear to move the fabric along.

  Once he worked her arms through the holes and had the gown over her head, he brought it to his lips and inhaled. She hadn’t worn it long, but it was infused with the essence of his Gerry, that scent that was purely her mixed with the gardenia lotion she liked to use. The simple act of bringing her scent into his nostrils awakened his senses. He felt his heart pound and his body jump to life with desire for her.

  “I won’t let this be wrong, Gerry. I won’t let it be… bad or ugly,” he spoke as he slipped out of his jeans. Once naked, he eased himself beside her on his side and rolled her so that her body was backed tightly against his front. “This is just you and me, baby. You’re the love of my life. You’re all I have in this life and I want you to feel that. If you can be reached somewhere in there. . .” He brought his hand to her temple and massaged before he brushed aside her hair. “If you’re in there, let me find you.”

  A subtle mix of colors and lights coming in from the window reflected off her creamy skin, hugging her curved silhouette. He heard the sound of her breath easing in and out of her nostrils, and he reached his fingers to her lips, feeling the moist warmth of air, the only other sign of the life in her.

  He guided those fingers down her shoulder, twirling into the waves of her brown locks before continuing down along her torso. He took his time, absorbing the feel of each part of her. His touch feathered along the contour of her breasts, crossing both of them and stopping a moment at each nipple. His lips nuzzled her neck and hair, inhaling her again as his hand opened wide, closing his fingers around one breast and holding it firmly. He groaned when her nipple tightened against his palm. A look down at her revealed that both dark peaks were tight and constricted in reaction to his touch.

  “I love you, my Gerry,” he whispered, the air behind his words stirring the hair framing her face. “I love you.”

  His hand continued its sojourn, caressing across her stomach and tracing her navel, then reaching the apex of her thighs. Doubt halted his movements as he wondered again how this could possibly be all right. She wasn’t awake. She was in some sort of coma or trance, and yet here he was, making love to her.

  Making love to her, he convinced himself. Without the love, it would be dirty and foul. His love for her was the only thing he could be certain of, and he dipped his fingers lower, sliding his index finger between her wet folds. His erection leapt completely to life, pulsing hard against her backside.

  Nicky slid his other arm under her, his fingers cupping her face and turning her head toward him. He brought his lips to hers, sliding his tongue across her mouth. Something wet trickled down his cheek and he wondered what it was. As he clung to her, pulling her tight against him, all of his affection and desire for her consumed every part of his body. A choking sob broke from his lips as he rolled her still body over onto her back.

  He never broke contact of his mouth to hers, letting her steady breath mingle with his as he moved atop her, parting her legs with his knee. He entered her slowly, inch by inch, and then moved in and out of her with the same smooth deliberation. He had to feel each second of their coupling.

  Until he touched her lips, he told himself that this entire act was for her. It was because Langston and Mére Owa told him it must be done, but kissing her bared his soul. The days of worry and panic, the thoughts that she might not ever wake up, the horrifying knowledge of what his life might be without her—all of this overwhelmed him and the kiss showed him this was about healing him, too.

  This lovemaking wasn’t about one person. It was about the two of them, together as one. The perfection, the synergy that only love like theirs could bring, culminated as he held her tight and moved against her. He groaned, rolling his lips to her neck and breathing heavy against her ear.

  The tiny sound of his name spoken from her lips was his undoing; sweat mingled with tears as he sobbed again and poured his seed into her.

  Darkness consumed her. She was drowning in a sea of thick black ink, an emptiness settling on her like a heavy weight. She gasped, struggled for breath, turned her head left and right, but the darkness couldn’t be broken.

  There was a sound, something she recognized. Someone was speaking, and it wasn’t just the sound she knew but the words. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes and spilling onto her cheeks.

  “The Company’s got good timing. Not much time for a real honeymoon.”

  The voice was Nicky’s. Another memory, though she couldn’t see the images. She could just hear the sounds.

  “Baby, you’re beautiful, you’re hot, you’re sexy just the way you are. Not as anyone else. Just you. Do you know what you make me want to do to you?”

  Dysis spoke, invading the memory, and she could smell her sister’s closeness. “Gerry, all you have to do is tell me what I want to know. Just tell me and I’ll let you go on about your life with him. Just tell me.”

  “I don’t understand, Dy. I don’t know what you want.” Her voice cracked as a sob tore through her. She was helpless, and she could feel her control and her strength waning.

  “Shhhh,” Dy whispered, “You don’t need to cry. Just tell me where you are. I need you to tell me about the box. Where is the box?”

  Gerry clinched her eyes closed, blocking out any thoughts at all about the box. Now that she knew what her sister wanted, she knew she had to keep her from it. No, no, no.

  “Ooo, he’s a luscious morsel, Gerry. What a cute little scar on that beautiful ass…”

  Red-hot rage replaced her fear. She didn’t share what was hers. Nicky was her h
usband, her man. Despair warred with anger as she imagined her sister’s hands on his body.

  Dy’s words continued. “No wonder you broke down and latched him to you. I mean, our kind doesn’t marry, but I wouldn’t want to share him either.”

  When Gerry opened her eyes the world was bright and vivid before her. She was in her old apartment, only sparsely furnished. She had a four poster bed; each of Nicky’s hands clinched the headboard and her hands covered his. Only they weren’t her hands at all. They were Dy’s hands, Dy’s face, and Dy’s body moving and grinding atop him.

  Grunting with the effort, Gerry twitched her nose and forced the air all around her to bunch up into a huge blast which she flung against her sister. Dy toppled off Nicky’s body and sprawled on the floor.

  Dy didn’t stay down long. She flew at Gerry, her thin fingers clawing into Gerry’s throat, “Just let me inside, Gerry. Stop blocking me and tell me what I want to know! Tell. Me. Now!” With each of those last three words she slammed Gerry’s head against the floor. Thud, thud, thud…

  But Gerry could feel him, his aura and energy, pulsing into her. She inhaled more and more breath, filling her lungs to capacity. Power pounded into her, reviving her and making her limbs and fingers tingle.

  “Nicky!” she screamed, an orgasmic burst exploding from all of her pores. When she opened her eyes she saw her sister sail through the air, limbs askew, as she hit the wall and crumbled to the floor. “I love you,” she murmured.

  Dysis’ expression cracked, pain skewing her lovely face. Gerry clung to that moment, wondering for just a second whether the hurt she saw on her sister’s face was because of the whispered words of love she’d spoken or if she was physically in pain after being tossed across the room. But still, if it was those words, did they hurt Dy because she believed Gerry was saying them to her or because she believed she wasn’t? Awareness fell away from her mind as a soothing cold wind blew through her, and she floated into a true, unadulterated sleep.