Dark Daze (13 page)

“Okay, let’s go.” She held up a book as they
headed back for the car.

“Listen.
Brittany was on the other end.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I enjoyed our date, and I hoped we could see each
other again. Maybe now?’
Next, you see the hands and the car,
you race along and you lose the car, almost slamming into a big rig
in the process. Then you drive in here and see me.”

He just stared at her for a minute, a little
overwhelmed, then he opened the door. She sat in the passenger
seat. Jogging around the car, he wondered what all this meant. As
he slid into the driver’s side, she adjusted in her seat to face
him.

“Don’t you see? It replaced what really
happened with some inane dialogue. Everything about the author, the
book—all gone. What’s left is some puerile ruse to get you to come
see me. Those aren’t the only things missing either, the woman who
came to help you down the street from your mother’s house isn’t
mentioned either. It says you rolled out of the way just in time to
miss the tire.”

Ian closed his eyes, remembering the
disturbing feel of the car, which turned to pudding as it struck
him. “I wonder if I’m the first person this has happened to. Has
anyone else been terrorized because of arguments with Donald
Kingsley? Is that even what’s happening here?”

“And why can’t I turn the page past the
present?” she finished for him. “I only get to read a paragraph or
so into the future, whatever is at the bottom of the page. Right
now, I can’t even turn to the next chapter for some reason. Every
time I try, I keep thinking of the things I need to do. Not even
important things.”

“Strange.”

“Especially because I think in publishing
there are at least three people who read a book before it’s
published. Maybe more. So shouldn’t all this have happened months
ago, if not longer?”

“We need some of his other books. There has
to be something in them to help us.”

“I’ve already got them. I tingled when I
walked down the clearance aisle. Most of all when I saw this one.”
She dug in the bag and drew out a novel. A diner lit the gloomy
cover—neon lights in the black fog. He took one of the books she
held, skimming it for information.

“The areas are accurate, we know that much.
Every city we went to in the book exists, including the cities
where you and your mother live.” She plucked the i-com from the
floor by her feet and handed it to him. “Speaking of your mom, why
don’t you call her and tell her everything’s fine, but she should
spend another week in her vacation spot.” She pressed a hand to his
forearm.

Brie was right. His mother wouldn’t be safe
on the road until she thought he was. Then, even if part of her
sensed the truth, she would be the strong mother he always
remembered. It was their thing. Pretend it was all okay, and ignore
it if proof were presented otherwise. It had always worked for
them, until she painted him.

“She’ll be too worried to have a good time. I
would be.”

Ian smiled at her genuine concern for a woman
she barely knew. While he called his mother’s i-com, Brie continued
to scan the book about a waitress at a coffee house in Fresno who’s
followed by a stalker in a ski mask.

“Ian? Oh thank God! How are you feeling? Is
everything all right. Can I come home and make you waffles
now?”

“Everything’s just fine. It’s all taken care
of. Buster’s with Paul and everything’s going to be all right
now.”

“Great. I’ll come home.”

“No, Mom.” He scolded, trying to sound casual
about it. “Have you even spent one minute enjoying yourself? Have
you even seen anything other than your hotel room? Did you even get
a hotel yet?”

“Well, I—”

“You’re in a place you’ve wanted to go for a
long time. Relax and enjoy yourself. I’m fine. We’ve got it all
figured out, and I will see you next weekend, give or take. Try to
have some fun.”

He said goodbye and put the i-com back in his
pocket.

<><><>

They’d made it half way to Fresno when they’d
decided it was late enough and stopped at an Extend-O-Stay.

“Brie Duval,” she said, triggering the
audiolock, the newest type of lock all the hotels were using
now.

She opened the hotel room door carrying the
bag of used books. Ian followed, holding the take-out.

“Table.”

A small metal table folded down from the
wall, and she set the books on it.

“I hope the bathrooms aren’t on this new
audio system too.” Ian smiled for the first time since he’d picked
her up, and something in the smile made her certain everything
would be all right. Somehow.

“That would be a bit
too
much.” She
took the books out of the bag, lining them up on the table while he
laid out aromatic containers filled with shawarma and koobideh.

Ian took his plate and a few books to the
bed, sitting atop the comforter with his knees bent and the food at
his side.

He sat there in such a natural way, as if
they were on vacation. It calmed her. But he’d always done that. He
could make her forget her weight, her gift, and the creature who
stalked them, and make her feel safe, no matter what.

Brie went to him, crawled across the
mattress, and curled up in his lap. He braced a hand on her back as
she hooked her arms around his neck. “You are so handsome. Do you
know that?”

“Is that all you like about me? My looks and
my virtue?” He held the top button of his shirt closed in mock
horror.

Brie laughed. “Maybe. I delight in stealing
virtue from unsuspecting innocents. But no, that’s not all, and you
know it.”

He set the book down and grinned. “Then
refresh my memory.”

“You have a big heart, and a strong jaw.” She
ran a finger along his chin, delighting in the tingles racing along
her skin. “And a hearty”—she grabbed a bit of chicken off the plate
beside them—“appetite.”

She slipped the morsel between his lips, and
when his tongue lapped her fingers, she shivered.

“I’m not the only one.” He gave her a wicked
grin, which made her insides do some impressive stunts. Then he
glanced at the book in his hand, and the smile faded. “But we
shouldn’t do this now. We have to find answers. If we’re going to
survive this, it’s the only way. Plus, you need to eat. I want you
to keep your strength up.”

“I don’t need to eat. I need to spend time
with you.”

He grabbed the thin plastic fork and speared
a bit of beef. He lifted it to her lips, and her stomach protested
so loud the in-room computer said, “I don’t understand your
command.”

“Oh, all right.” She bit into the delicious
meat, not realizing how hungry she was until the food passed her
lips.

He fed her silently for a while, pausing with
each bite to stare into her eyes before returning to the book he
was scanning. She couldn’t help but stare at Ian. His mother had
painted his death, yet here he sat, ready to fight. Brie had
crumbled so many times in the past. After her brother’s death, and
her mother’s too, she’d been unable to stand on her own for months.
Everything was different now. His strength made it easier for her
to remain standing in the face of the fear and pain—even in her
darkest moments when she wanted to run. Now, in one of their
darkest moments, with the end looming nearer, he still took care of
her before worrying about himself. She owed it to him to be strong
now.

She got up, taking
Cold Terror
, the
book about them, with her. Sitting at the table, she thumbed
through the text. The trash cans, her call, their first date…

His lips met hers, their bodies coming
together in an electrically charged shock of passion…She skimmed
further, hoping she wouldn’t see— He entered her, his rigid—

She dropped the book.

“Oh God.” She covered her face, unable to
look at Ian.

“What’s wrong?” Ian looked up from a book
about an ailing woman whose son haunted her. “What is it?”

“It’s all in here. This book has
every
moment. It’s the cause for everything we’ve done.” She grabbed the
book and shook it at him when he didn’t speak. “It’s been
controlling us. It’s the reason we’ve been behaving strangely. Why
we went home together that first night.”

“It’s not…” His jaw dropped.

She nodded, opening to the page. “Right
here.”

He read the words, and his jaw clenched. He
threw his fork into his half-eaten food and stood. “The bastard!
Who is he to share our most intimate moments?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Brie fought back
a sob. “Us. We’re not real. Our love, and yes I realized I loved
you when I almost lost you today, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t
revel in my feelings, or tell you how much I care, since I only
feel this way because the book tells me to. When this is over, we
won’t love each other anymore. It’s all a pretense—to make a good
story.”

“Brie—”

Her voice pitched higher, and the words flew
out before she could stop them. “I’ve been trying so hard to be
okay. I want to be brave for you. I really do. But I’m terrified
out of my mind. What will I do if I lose you? I’ve wanted this for
so long, waited for you forever. And it
was
you I was
waiting for, you know? I know that now.” She pressed two fingers to
her trembling lips, glancing at the wallpaper to avoid his gaze and
the tears it might evoke. “It always seemed impossible. Like I’d
end up alone. Now I’ve found you. I have you. So what if it’s not
true? What if what we have is somebody’s sick joke at our expense?
What if we aren’t really meant to be together, and the moment this
stops, we become strangers? I don’t think I’m brave enough to risk
that.”

“No.” He knelt, taking her hands in his.
“
No.
I love you too, and it’s not because of some book. I
felt wrong when I did those other things. Like someone was fitting
me into a character I wasn’t. But not with you. I feel comfortable
with you.”

She looked away, but he held her chin between
his finger and thumb and brought her gaze back to his. “Does it
feel strange to you?”

“Well it didn’t, but now I don’t know.” Hot
tears blurred her vision. “Maybe we shouldn’t stop this thing. It’s
wrong to suggest it, but I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t. What we…it’s all us, and it’s not
going anywhere.”

He gathered her into his arms, and it seemed
so right. She pressed into his embrace, arms and legs wrapping
around him in a serpentine desire for contact.

God, it couldn’t be the last time they held
each other. She couldn’t lose him.

Taking her time, she removed his clothes,
savoring every inch of exposed skin. He did the same, and when the
last item hit the floor, he lifted her into his arms. Holding her
to his chest, skin pressed to skin, he carried her to the bed and
set her on the soft comforter.

His lips trailed lazily from her neck, over
her nipples, and down her ribcage. She arched her back, craving
more as the moist tip circled her belly.

His breath brushed the skin of her lower
belly, and she grabbed the comforter beneath her, twisting it in
her fists.

“Does this feel natural?”

Waves of desire lapped at her skin, and the
rising tide of her desire had her writhing. The moist coolness of
his mouth met the heat between her legs, and she convulsed. He
slipped a finger inside her, matching the thrusts of his tongue and
building the storm inside her.

“Tell me,” he whispered against her.

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. The only
thing she could do was to ride the waves of passion. She could
arch, writhe, and thrust to meet his fingers and mouth.

“Tell me.” His firm tone made her quiver with
need and helped her find her voice.

“Oh, yes.” Her fingers slid into his hair,
needing more contact with his skin. “Yes, just don’t stop. I need
you.”

He let out a deep moan, which rumbled up from
his chest and added to her pleasure. She lifted her hips to his
mouth and let the tempest inside wash her into a passionate
climax.

Even as her body shook, he moved up the
length of her and into her arms, filling her desperate need for
contact, of their bodies—of their souls.

“The real truth is, we aren’t natural
together,” he said, placing butterfly kisses along her cheek.

Brie drew back and met his gaze. “But—”

“No, we’re more than natural. We’re perfect
for each other. Destined to be together. Just look at your flips.
They’ve all led you to me. And after tonight, I won’t let you
forget it. You won’t ever be able to deny it, and nothing will ever
take it from us.” His narrowed eyes and ticking jaw belied the
softness of his tone.

“You’re right.” She pressed a hand to his
cheek, soothing the muscles. “You’re right.”

Ian spread her legs, moving between them. The
warmth of his body and the strength of his words heated her skin
and melted her heart. He held her gaze as he entered her, gentle
and slow. Her hands explored his chest and face, but she focused on
his eyes, not wanting to lose the intimate contact. She leaned up
and kissed his jaw, breathing in his woody spice.

Brie couldn’t imagine smelling that scent and
not wanting him, not loving him. Her eyes moistened, and she
wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him down atop her. His
heavy weight stole her breath, but she held him to her in spite of
it. He kissed her neck, cheeks, and mouth, holding her tight. He
continued his gentle pace, moving in and out as the storm inside
her built again toward a hurricane.

His muscles rippled beneath her hands, and
she moaned, lifting her legs over his hips. The tears burned her
eyes. She fought them, even as she rotated her hips into his, her
head thrown back. Need drove her as they kissed and caressed. She
had to see him clearly. She wanted to make this moment count. To
build something even the magic couldn’t sever. They cried out for
release together, and in that instant, Brie knew she couldn’t lose
him.