by Dale Mayer
“Actually what I’m asking for,” she said, “is loving. Gentle, gentle loving, at least for the moment. I hurt in so many places.”
Samson tried to pull back, but she went with him like a limpet attached to his body as she chuckled. “No, never pull away. But this time, let’s take it slow.”
And that was what they did. He kissed and caressed her, treating her like she was the most beautiful object he’d ever seen—something breakable, something delicate, giving her a feeling she’d never experienced before, and she loved every bit of it. She felt cherished and loved. And she couldn’t do anything but give back the same.
They stroked and massaged and kissed, taking their time, slowly enjoying each moment, each stroke of a hand, each brush of their lips, each taste of their tongues as their passion was gently raised from easy and gentle, until he rolled onto his back, shedding his boxers at the same time.
“You take this as hard or as fast as you want.”
She settled herself down slowly on his shaft, sliding along it right to her center, shuddering, her body slowly stretching to accept his size and girth. When she was finally seated, she arched her back, her hands at his neck, and murmured, “Oh my. This feels so good.”
He stroked her breasts, cupping them, holding them gently as she leaned forward, placing her hands on his shoulders and lifting her hips, and then she started to ride.
He watched her, and she watched him as the flush of passion built, and her pace picked up until she cried out with need. He held her hips and plunged, matching her rhythm stroke for stroke until she broke apart in his arms, crying out for joy.
He held her firmly as he bucked up against her once and then twice, and a guttural groan released from his chest as his body climaxed beneath her, both of them collapsing. When she could regain some of her strength, she grabbed the blankets, pulling them over their bodies. She was still lined up on his body, but he welcomed the blanket too.
She whispered, “Will we always feel chilled?”
“Yes,” he said, “at least for a while.”
And once again they fell asleep.
*
When he woke several hours later, Samson slipped from his bed, went to the bathroom, quickly dressed in warm clothes and walked out to the kitchen. He wasn’t sure what to expect today. Yesterday had been so traumatic.
He built the fire back up, walked into Jamie’s room, finding his brother sound asleep, his breathing even and steady. In the living room the dogs lay in front of the big picture window, studying the water.
Samson opened the front door and stepped out, the dogs accompanying him. For once the wind that curled around the trees didn’t scare him. He called out, “Good morning,” to the world. Then he walked toward the wind confidently.
He had no idea what it was or where it came from, but he was willing to accept that it was positive and careful, and it was good and believed in goodness.
As he walked over to the cliff edge to look at the sea, he noted something on the beach below. He looked at the dogs; they looked up at him. “You guys aren’t bothered?”
They didn’t make a sound, just laid down at his feet.
He studied what was below. He’d have to check it out. Particularly because of the bodies lost at sea when Bruce’s boat sank. If Samson could recover even one of them, then one family would find closure. He walked back inside, put on his boots, checked on Whimsy, still sleeping, and then he headed down to the beach. He moved slowly, his body sore and tired. He had to get his shoulder looked at too, just as to confirm Dr. Maddy had done all that was needed to be done. First, he’d see who’d washed ashore.
It was Bruce. It was a very bloody, beaten Bruce. Samson studied Bruce’s badly broken body, wondering what had happened. And then he looked at the waves and knew.
“You guys did this to him, didn’t you?”
The sound was calm this morning, perfectly serene. But Samson knew. He called out, “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Instead of a verbal response, the clouds broke, and sunshine came through. And he could hear the putt-putt of an engine.
His boat came around the corner of the island with Ned at the bow. Samson walked to the dock, his face grim, as Ned exited the boat and tied it to the dock. “Are you ever a sight for sore eyes.”
Ned reached out and slapped him hard on his back.
Samson was surprised that his body didn’t react in pain. Thank you, Dr. Maddy.
“We have been trying to get hold of you for hours.”
“It’s been chaos,” Samson said. “Not only chaos but murderous chaos.” He pointed to the body on the beach.
Ned tilted his head, taking a moment. “Isn’t that Bruce?”
“Yes, and, from the looks of it, there isn’t a bone in his body that hasn’t been broken.”
“Murder?”
“Murderous.” Samson filled Ned in on all that had happened. “We were hoping for a helicopter to take all the bodies away. But you can thank dear Bruce that there aren’t any bodies to haul.”
“I did talk to the Coast Guard,” Ned said. “They got a phone call saying we were to look for three dead bodies in the water. I believe Stefan made that call.” He looked at what was left of Bruce. “Maybe Stefan knew we didn’t have to look for this one.”
Samson laughed. “That’s possible. I don’t understand just what Stefan knows and doesn’t know.”
“I think this time it came from Jamie too,” Ned said. “I’m not sure any real answers are available yet.”
“Maybe not,” Samson said with a smile to his friend. “But there are answers to find. I have a new direction to go in, and I made a lot of promises I intend to keep. First, we have a company to shoot down, platforms to find and dismantle, and some men who need to be put behind bars.”
“Good,” Ned said approvingly. “You needed to expand your world. You’ve been sad and down for too long.”
“Not anymore,” Samson said. He turned to look up at the cabin, and, sure enough, there was Whimsy, still wrapped in a blanket, searching for him. He raised a hand, and she waved back.
“That looks like a positive development,” Ned said with a laugh. “I can’t think of any better news. But I do have other news. The cops are not looking for you anymore. Once I explained what was going at the center and how Jamie and Whimsy had heard people being kept against their will, they’ve agreed to open a full investigation into how the center operates. Particularly the wonder-boy Parsons Jamie mentioned and the woman Whimsy had heard. Of course it didn’t hurt to have Stefan and Dr. Maddy chime in with their concerns. I believe those came via Dr. Maddy’s partner, Drew. He’s busy pulling all kinds of strings to get a full investigation into the platform mess too.”
“Now that is good news but add in one thing to that investigation, please. See if Strauss or Berkley had anything to do with keeping Jamie or the others there.” Samson said with a feral grin. “Just for my peace of mind.”
“Will do,” Ned said shaking his head. “What a mess the world is in.”
Samson motioned at his boat. “Come on. Let me give you a hand. We need all the groceries you brought. Then we’ll contact the Coast Guard so they can collect our buddy here.”
“Not a problem,” Ned said as he unloaded bags and boxes onto the wharf. “I still think you need to get a golf cart for this place.”
“Now that a couple of us—three, if Jamie chooses to stay—will be here all the time, maybe I will,” Samson said with a chuckle. He stopped and looked out at the sound. “I didn’t realize just how much I owe this water and all of its inhabitants for my life. Not just my passion for life but now for my actual life.”
“You know what? I think that’s one of the reasons that stuff like this happens,” Ned said. “Not only do you now have your passion back but your heart is also engaged, and you’ve experienced whatever it is that’s deep beneath.”
Samson smiled. “And, with Whimsy at my side, I can’t think of a better future.”
&
nbsp; The two men grinned at each other and finished unloading the boat.
“Even better,” Samson said as he looked up to see Whimsy, now dressed, approaching. “I’m always going to be grateful for the gifts the sea gave me. Not just for my life but for hers too.”
She was close enough to hear his last words. She threw her arms around him and laughed. “We both have a lot to be grateful for.”
“So let’s make sure we make the most of what we have,” he whispered against her ear, holding her close to his heart. “Each and every day.”
“Works for me,” she said as she boldly kissed him, right in front of Ned. “I’m up for a lifetime of this. How about you?”
They linked hands and turned to face Puget Sound. “This lifetime and more.”
This concludes Book 15 of Psychic Visions: Deep Beneath.
Read the first Chapter of From the Ashes: Psychic Visions, Book 16
From the Ashes
This is the 16th Psychic Visions Novel from USA Today Bestselling author Dale Mayer.
Born and raised in a cult with a fanatical father who believed she was destined for greater things, Phoenix endured a childhood of pain and torment. Not only was her father preparing her for the future he saw, he hated that she was stronger, better than he was.
When she’s finally rescued, her life slowly improves, but still her past hinders her future. Her father has gifted her with one special note, written on a material she has yet to destroy. In order to get rid of it forever, she travels to Iceland to her father’s hometown to visit a fissure of lava that opens every summer. Surely the material will burn in the lava? And she can then be rid of her father and the special note forever …
Detective Rowan Einar hates when the damn fissure opens as it always signifies the suicide season—a despicable time of year where people travel to his small corner of the world to end their lives. When a waif shows up with huge eyes and scars, both external and internal, he wants to ensure she won’t be the next suicide in town. But, when he hears her story, he wonders what is going on …
Then the deaths begin, … and he witnesses the visions and energies that he’s always been able to see have now merged with Phoenix’s energies, making the two of them stronger and more powerful. What they see though is even more terrifying …
From the Ashes: Deep Beneath (Book #16)
Chapter 1
Phoenix Rising stepped off the tour bus and was engulfed by the sights and sounds of the small Icelandic town they would spend the next few days. An odd ashy aroma filled her nostrils, even as a fresh breeze lifted her long blond strands of hair.
She’d spent her whole childhood being told about this place. Then spent the rest of her life researching, studying, trying to figure out exactly what her connection was to this place and to the Eternal Fire that burned here.
Or rather the Eternal Fire that always burned beneath the ground but rose to the surface once every year. It had resurfaced weeks ago.
Finally she was here.
Her father had prophesized how she would die by the Eternal Fire—and then be reborn.
Her delusional mom had believed him and, after way too many sessions of drugs, had named her daughter Phoenix Rising, as supposedly the epic answer to this burning in hell and subsequent resurrection.
Phoenix had no clue what the truth of the matter was.
Then again, not many children from cults escaped, and, if they did, they needed a lifetime to deal with the BS they’d been spoon-fed. Rescued at eleven, she was old enough to understand what had happened and how her rescue from that nightmare had been a gift.
Her father, the cult leader, who had impregnated almost all of his followers, had decreed Phoenix was special. Very special. But she’d had no idea what that meant or why she needed to be special.
The rational part of her mind understood her father would say that just to make himself more special because he was her father. He’d filled her head with stories of this fire that burned here, but he’d never answered any of her questions.
Instead, he’d patted her on the head and said, You’ll learn, child. You’ll learn. But, when the cult had been raided by the cops, she only learned that her father had been a pedophile and a psychopath.
And, with his blood in her veins and his words still in her mind and his torture ever evident on her body, that meant she was damaged.
But, even as broken as she had started out in this life, she’d gone to a wonderful foster couple, both professors, who’d quickly filled in the gaps of her education with intensive tutoring. Now she had her own degree and had been an associate professor in mythology until recently but had volunteered to take a layoff from her struggling university.
Now she had severance money in the bank and was footloose and fancy free.
Only for her, true freedom meant finding answers. She reached up to touch the scar on the side of her face. Just another reminder of some of the things her father had done to help her remember who she was and what she was here for. In his uncontradicted opinion, she was the Chosen One, and as such was required to endure the pain of training to achieve that status.
The scars on her body ached as they always did with the memories of the torture she’d endured on a regular basis.
Her mother had cried with her afterward but had never stepped in to stop the abuse.
Phoenix had screamed and wailed, asking the others to stop him, telling whoever would listen how she didn’t want to be this special child. The other children had laughed, had taunted her more. But they’d also been afraid of her—maybe a tiny bit jealous too of the Chosen One moniker.
“We aren’t special, like you are,” they would say and, instead of helping her, had often beaten her more.
Her lessons about humanity had been learned at the hands of a madman and his all-too-willing disciples.
When she had finally become an adult, she had a very twisted view of man and religion, how distorted beliefs could distort people and how so many of them had taken their beliefs in a very wrong direction, like her father had.
He had died in a shoot-out with the cops, choosing to die a martyr—as he had put it—than to go to jail and to suffer at the hands of others.
His disciples had chosen to die with him too—taking the poison they had ready and waiting for the one day when it was needed.
Her mother had tried to drag Phoenix into the closet to die with her. “Come. We must go. We must follow Father,” her mother had insisted harshly.
But Phoenix had fought back. “No. I don’t want to follow him anywhere.”
Slap.
Phoenix had taken several hard blows from her mother’s very capable hand before her mother, in a panic, left her daughter behind and dashed into the closet alone.
Phoenix hadn’t even tried to follow.
As the cops surrounded her, she pointed at the closet her mother was in. When the uniformed officers opened the door, they found her mother, dying on the floor.
Now, so many years later—eighteen to be exact—Phoenix had decided to finally put this all to rest. To see this Eternal Fire that had so driven her father.
“Phoenix?”
She shook off her tortured memories to see the whole tour bus had emptied, tourists already storming through the gift shop and heading toward the hotel. The driver stood beside her. “Are you doing okay, Phoenix?” he asked in his jovial tone, but his fatherly gaze studied her with concern.
She smiled and nodded. “I am. Just a little tired.”
“Understandable,” he said. “This afternoon you are on your own. After we get you into your hotel, you can rest. Tomorrow morning we’ll head out to the Eternal Fire.” He turned to look at the village around them. “Excited?”
“Very,” she said. “I’ve come a long way to see it.”
“People come from all over the world,” he replied and shrugged. “I don’t understand the attraction myself. It’s just a fire.”
“But a fire that has burned annually for a lo
ng time,” she said gently. “One on an eternal schedule that surpasses our understanding.”
“But still, just a fire. It’s burning because of an opening in the ground with an endless amount of a fuel beneath. I understand a lot of people believe in the mythology of the place. And, of course, the few missing person cases we have around here help to fuel that folklore. None of which makes much sense to me.”
At his words, she stumbled, righted herself, and then asked, “What do you mean, missing person cases?”
“Ah,” he said, “it’s nothing. Just a few missing tourists every year. But it’s to be expected. Hundreds of thousands of people come here. Some with good intentions and some not. And some of them come deliberately to commit suicide,” he said, his gaze sharp as he studied her. “We have a weird season here—called Suicide Season. For anyone choosing death by the Eternal Fire, the lava leaves nothing behind. It’s a way to disappear completely. It’s not a bad method if someone’s dead set on dying. Just hell on those left behind.”
She stared at the small town around them. “Such an awful concept against such a picturesque background.”
“Oh, the town is definitely picturesque,” he replied. “And the residents need those tourist dollars. So they give it their all. As much as they love the tourists, they hate them too,” he said with a cynical attitude.
“I can understand that,” she said. “They need what we have to offer, but they don’t really want us in their space. I’d probably feel the same.”
At that, he chuckled. “Come on. Let’s get you to the hotel. You’re looking tired.” His gaze once again went to the scar alongside her face.
She let him look. Everyone did. Her foster parents had wanted her to get plastic surgery to cover it up. Phoenix wouldn’t hear of it. It was a reminder of who she really was—inside and out.
A monster.
Just like her father.
Book 16 is available now!
To find out more visit Dale Mayer’s website.
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading Deep Beneath: Psychic Visions, Book 15! If you enjoyed the book, please take a moment and leave a short review here.
