Slither

by Bernadette Gardner

  His fingers gripped her hips hard, but she’d lost the desire to cringe or bite her lip. Instead she hummed with pleasure, shoving back each time he pushed forward, taking him in deep. Watching him make love to her was the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced. Seeing her breasts bounce with the rhythm of his thrusts and his expression change from determination to ecstasy when he reached his peak incited her own exhausted body to yet another orgasm.

  The contractions hit like a truck and she cried out, amazed that her tortured nerves could still reach such a height. Behind her, Heath groaned. He gripped her hips and his body went rigid. His thighs pressed against hers, the thick muscles iron hard. With a fierce final thrust he came, growling like a jungle cat.

  When the pulsing of his cock subsided, he slid out of her and she collapsed onto the bed. He threw himself down next to her, breathing hard. Sweat had darkened strands of his hair to the color of wet sand and his eyes had dilated to pools of bottomless black rimmed by the thinnest ring of blue.

  He stroked a hand over her back, gently tracing her spine down to where it met her backside. “You are amazing.”

  “I think you actually did all the work.” She managed a smile and would have reached out to brush at one of those damp tendrils of hair on his forehead, but she didn’t have the strength to do much more than breathe at the moment.

  “You let me. You let yourself go.”

  “Hmm. You distracted me.”

  He shifted his body and gathered her in his arms. “Rest a bit and I’ll be happy to distract you again.”

  The front of her brain agreed that would be nice. She looked forward to another round of this no-holds-barred lovemaking, but there was that little voice in the back of her brain. The disturbing echo of Gramma Essie’s words intruded on this stolen moment of bliss. You can’t get involved with him. He’ll be gone, and then where will you be?

  That voice would require a lot of arguing to shut it up. Her heart might require a lot of healing if she let this strange liaison go any further, but right now, all she could do was give in to the weight of her eyelids. She let them slide closed on an image of his handsome face only inches from hers and the feel of his strong arms wrapped around her, protecting her from everything. Later she’d fix it. She’d extricate herself from his life and this Svengali-like hold he seemed to have over her. Later she’d come back to her senses, but for now, she was completely his to do with as he pleased, and for a moment, she had no regrets.

  Chapter Ten

  The smell of fresh espresso helped lift the fog of sleep that clouded Heath’s thoughts the next morning. Spending the night with Rihana in his bed, in his arms, had left him pleasantly sated physically, but something gnawed at him. Unable to extricate himself from her thoughts, he felt almost drugged by her presence in his mind.

  He’d dreamed her dreams through the night. He’d felt her body quicken when he woke her in the darkness and sought her sexual heat. Every sensation she experienced was mirrored and magnified for him, and now, just like her, he was almost too tired to move.

  No session with a member of the opposite sex had ever left him this drained and this fulfilled at the same time. That bothered him.

  A double shot of caffeine gave him a minor boost and cleared away some of the veil, but even though he’d left her sleeping, he still felt twined with her as if she were walking beside him while he wandered through the kitchen preparing a morning meal.

  He wanted to call Darq, but he wasn’t yet ready to put words to this unusual mood. It could be that stress had left his mental defenses low. Time and distance would dissolve the psychic link between them and he’d feel normal again, eventually.

  For now, the best he could do was strong coffee and lots of protein. He pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge and considered what ingredients he had on hand for omelets. His plan to leave this world had involved cleaning out the perishables in his pantry…partly as a courtesy for whoever might inherit the place when he was gone and partly in a desire not to waste the bounty available in this teeming city. He’d spent years in places where food was scarce and what little could be found was barely nutritious. He and Darq had experienced hunger and lived on worlds where they had to spend each day searching and fighting for sustenance. This world had seemed like paradise when they’d arrived, with its abundance of food and water, theirs for nothing more than the exchange of currency, which they’d discovered was easy enough to obtain with the skills they’d acquired over their years in exile.

  He’d miss this home, the surge of humanity, the diversity.

  He’d miss Rihana.

  That thought startled him. Certainly she was beautiful, but he’d bedded countless beautiful females during his journey. He had no guarantee of finding a bed partner easily on the next world. In some places, mating was a sacred ritual undertaken only with permission from an entire tribe. Here, it was recreation. He would definitely miss that.

  He shook off the troubling concerns and began rummaging for a proper pan. The door chime interrupted his mission and he sighed before pressing the intercom button.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Gyland, can I speak to you for a moment?” Detective Brogan’s voice rumbled through the speaker.

  “You are speaking to me.” He couldn’t resist the quip, though he knew sarcasm would not endear him to the surly investigator.

  “In person, if you don’t mind, unless you’d like everyone in the lobby of your building to hear our conversation.”

  Heath hit the access key. “Come on up.”

  Brogan made no further comment. Heath knew from experience he had seven minutes before the elevator reached his floor. He slipped back into the bedroom, pulled on a pair of pants and a fresh shirt and cast a longing glance at the mocha brown body wrapped in his sheets.

  He couldn’t resist touching her. A kiss on her cheek roused her and she shivered when he ran a fingertip down the glorious curve of her spine. “Stay in here, Ree. Brogan’s come to talk to me.”

  Her eyes snapped open, and she hissed in a breath. “Shit.”

  “It’ll be fine. I don’t think he’s come here to search the place.” Even as he said the words, his heart sank. He’d told Brogan to come back with a warrant for his apartment and that was probably exactly what the detective had done. The door chime rang again and Rihana bolted upright, clutching the sheet to her chest.

  “I can’t hide. If he finds me hiding it will be worse for both of us.”

  “Don’t hide, just stay in here. It’ll be fine.”

  She gave him a disparaging look and he would have argued but the chime rang once more and he had no desire to have Brogan lead a battalion of cops through his front door. He hurried through the apartment and opened the door, careful not to make any move that would look like an invitation for the detective to enter.

  “Good morning,” Heath said, mustering a tight smile. He purposefully left off any honorific.

  “I’m sorry to barge in on you so early,” Brogan began without a hint of sincerity. One uniformed officer stood behind him, arms behind his back at parade rest.

  “I’m an early riser.”

  “May I come in?”

  “So you obtained the search warrant?” Heath hated to bring it up, but the idea of denying Brogan entrance did have appeal. It would, at the very least, spare Rihana the embarrassment of being found in the apartment of a murder suspect.

  “Actually, I’m still waiting on the judge for that. It seems none of the items found in your shop turned up anything out of the ordinary. That’s a deciding factor in whether or not it’s appropriate to continue our search in your apartment.”

  Heath crossed his arms over his chest. “Deciding for or against?”

  “That’s what the judge is mulling over right now, so don’t plan to range too far. We may be back later today.”

  “If that’s the case, why are you here now?”

  Brogan’s smile was slick and oily. “Just to ask a few questions about your
business partner, a Mr. Darq Stone.”

  “What about him?”

  “Interesting name. Is it an alias?”

  Heath chuckled. “No. That was the name his parents gave him.”

  Brogan pulled a small notebook out of his jacket pocket and made a note of Heath’s response. The officer behind him shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  “Public records list this as his address, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he here now?”

  “No.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.” Lying to Brogan was too easy. The detective made a few more notes. “Is Mr. Stone a suspect now as well?”

  “He does have access to tattoo equipment and the information we obtained from Ms. Wain’s laptop shows that he was also the subject of the article she was writing about your shop. One of the questions she asked you in her recorded interview was if she could have a few words with Mr. Stone and you said you didn’t think he would be interested in being interviewed.”

  “Yes. I recall that.”

  “Why was that?”

  “Darq is a very private person. He doesn’t like publicity and wasn’t interested in the magazine for which Ms. Wain wrote.”

  “That’s odd. Our information shows that Mr. Stone is a graphic artist also. Why would he not want publicity for his work?”

  “He prefers to obtain clients through word of mouth.”

  “But you like publicity?”

  “Not so much.”

  “Then why did you agree to the interview?”

  Heath sighed. “To appease Ms. Wain. She’d been hounding me for weeks and I finally decided that a short article for which I cooperated would be, in the long run, less intrusive than an expose on the ‘mystery tattoo artist’.”

  “Plus you found her attractive, is that right?”

  “She was attractive, Detective.”

  “Hmm. Yes. Do you mind if we come inside? I’d hate for this conversation to disturb your neighbors.”

  Heath wanted to resist, but he could tell by Brogan’s bright aura that the man’s curiosity was piqued. The best way to thwart him would be to give him what he thought he wanted. Seeing for himself that Heath had nothing to hide would be far more disappointing to the man than being denied access. That would only convince him his suspicions were correct.

  Heath stepped back, allowing Brogan into the entry hall. The uniformed officer remained in the corridor, kept at bay by a gruff command from the detective.

  “Nice place.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Coffee smells good.”

  “It’s decaf.” Another lie. Brogan didn’t seem the type to worry about the effects of energy-boosting chemicals.

  “So you don’t know where your partner is?”

  “No.”

  “Does he disappear a lot?”

  “He hasn’t disappeared. He’s just not home.” Heath could have given Brogan Makena’s name, but it seemed like a betrayal. Even though Darq did have nothing to hide with regards to Tanesha’s murder, Heath shared a protective feeling for the woman his crèche brother had chosen to mate with. The police might track down Darq eventually, but hopefully by then it wouldn’t matter to their investigation.

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “No.”

  “You live with him, but you have no idea when he’ll return?”

  “He’s a grown man, Detective. I don’t keep tabs on him.”

  “Is he expected at your shop?”

  “He may have clients scheduled. I plan to be at work in a few hours. If you’d like to come in and check my appointment book, you’re welcome to do so.”

  “You know something, Mr. Gyland, I don’t like you.”

  Heath feigned disappointment. “I can’t imagine why not.”

  “You’ve got an answer for everything. In my experience, when people have all the answers, it’s because they’ve been rehearsing them, planning how to respond to every question. That, in my mind, implies guilt.”

  “So I would seem more innocent if I sputtered in confusion at your questions? If I hesitated and hemmed as though I didn’t know what to say?”

  Brogan pursed his lips. “Mr. Gyland, there’s no way in hell you could seem more innocent to me. You’re hiding something. I know…” The detective stopped, his attention snagged on something behind Heath.

  In a calculated move, Brogan dodged Heath and strode to the sofa where Rihana’s purse lay half-hidden among the throw pillows. He picked it up, a bold move and one that Heath could probably contest in court, if he were ever so inclined to take Brogan to task for his investigative faux pas.

  “This isn’t your color. It’s not your partner’s, is it?”

  “Darq prefers canvas to leather,” Heath quipped back. He kept his eyes off the entrance to the hallway leading to the bedroom and tossed an image of Brogan to Rihana. Hopefully she would interpret it as a warning and stay in the other room.

  There was no amusement in Brogan’s laugh. “This wouldn’t belong to Tanesha Wain, would it?”

  “I believe her purse was found in her apartment, wasn’t it?”

  Brogan raised a brow. “How do you know what was found in her apartment?”

  “Because one of your officers said no robbery had taken place, therefore ruling that out as a motive.”

  “Hmm.” Brogan studied the purse with a speculative eye. He turned it over and over, perhaps hoping something might fall out, but fortunately the various pockets were zippered.

  Finally, Brogan set the purse down. “If you hear from your partner, tell him I’d like to speak to him.”

  “I will.”

  Brogan cast a jaundiced glance around the apartment and cocked his head as if listening for something. “Your guest is very quiet.”

  “She’s asleep.”

  “Ah. Well, I’ll let you get back to…making breakfast. Thank you for your time.” With a last look at the purse, Brogan swiveled on his heel and headed for the door. He let himself out and Heath allowed himself a sigh of relief. He had no doubt the detective would be back with his promised warrant.

  Rihana emerged from his bedroom fully dressed a moment later. Her features were stiff with concern. “I heard everything.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Don’t worry? Brogan has you tried and convicted already. He’s just waiting on the paperwork.”

  “Well, he can’t prove anything. I didn’t kill Tanesha, so there will be no evidence that I did.”

  “You have motive, means and opportunity. That’s almost enough to have you charged. Have you thought about getting a lawyer?”

  “Ree, I don’t need a lawyer. The only thing I need to do is keep the Gemii from hurting anyone else before Darq and Makena and I can leave.” He felt her pain the moment the words left his mouth. He reached for her, but she pulled away and scooped her purse off the couch.

  “I need to get to work. While Brogan is trying to prove you’re guilty, I’ve got to figure out how to track the real killer. Maybe Tanesha’s clothing will give me a lead.”

  After another try, he caught her hand. The contact electrified him, but he tamped down the feeling and managed to control the urge to drag her into his arms. He didn’t want her to leave this small, safe haven. “Rihana, I need you to understand what’s happening here.”

  “What’s happening is there’s still a killer out there and I’m a target. So is Makena. This Gemii is a person, right? He’s a man just like you and that means he can be captured. That’s my job. If you have to leave…then go. Do what you have to in order to be safe. I’m going to do what I have to do.”

  “Will you come back here tonight?”

  “Will you be here?”

  “Yes.”

  She held his gaze for a tense moment. Her aura looked like an explosion around her head, streaks of red anger competing with the muddy brown of frustration and a swirling hint of blue arousal. He
felt that too and would have given anything for the time to nurture it into another session in bed, but he had his own work to do. If Darq and Makena wouldn’t cross over to another world, or at least leave the city, then maybe they could work toward locating the Gemii.

  Roughly he tugged Rihana toward him, slid his hand around the back of her neck and kissed her. She didn’t struggle despite the image in her mind of her racing out of the apartment. After a moment of stiffness, she softened in his arms, opened to him and invited him in. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and tasted her desire mixed with the flavor of his toothpaste. She was heaven, a sensual feast, and he was starving despite their rigorous night together.

  He showed her an image of them falling to the floor, tearing each other’s clothes off. She blocked it, put her hands on his chest and broke the kiss, leaving him wanting.

  “We can’t do this right now.”

  He stepped back. “Will I see you later?”

  She nodded and left. Unspoken warnings and promises hung in the air, mixing with the faint echo of the door clicking shut.

  He had enough faith in the guardian he’d given her to know she would be all right for the time being. He wished he had the same faith in himself to be able to walk away when the time came for him to leave this world for good.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rihana struggled to keep thoughts of Heath out of her mind as she hurried across town. She didn’t bother going home to pick up her car or change. She’d showered quickly at Heath’s and she kept toiletries and makeup in her locker at work for quick touchups so no one would suspect she’d been out all night.

  Her first stop was the morgue, where Andy Sullivan greeted her with his usual deferential respect. At her request, he handed over a zipper-sealed plastic bag with Tanesha Wain’s sweater inside. Normally, Rihana would have signed the evidence out and taken it to an upstairs viewing room where she could work with some semblance of privacy, but she had no desire to carry around the dead reporter’s clothing.

  “Can I open this here, Andy?” she asked as he settled at his cluttered desk.