Darkness Becomes Her (14 page)

Was it a coincidence that he’d used words similar to what he himself had used earlier? Lachlan wondered. Probably not. Bastard, what was he on to?

Her face flushed, and she braced herself against the back of the couch. “But you can’t feel.”

“I can through the laddie, here.”

Lachlan’s hands fisted at his sides. If he could punch Olaf without punching himself, he would. “That’s disgusting. I won’t do it.”

“Och, I’m not asking ye to fondle her girly parts. Her shoulders, her stomach, her neck, and a kiss. It’s no’ much to ask, considering what I’m doing for her. Dinna tell me it’s something ye’ve not done with her yourself.”

“I cannot touch her like that. She’s my brother’s girl. You, a clansman, should understand and respect the code of honor between brothers.”

Olaf’s laugh was brusque. “Have ye read about the clan wars, how brother killed brother to steal his wife or to become head of the clan? I understand honor, but I feel what ye feel for the lass, how ye want to—”

“But we can’t always have what we want.” Lachlan didn’t want to hear what the spirit picked up.

Olaf’s essence blurred as he looked around. “Where is this brother, then? Why has he left his lassie alone?”

“He’s been injured,” Lachlan said. “He’s recuperating elsewhere, and I would be the lowest of the low to move in on her while he’s down.”

“I ne’er went off to battle without a kiss from a fair lassie. Still won’t.” Olaf crossed his ephemeral arms over his chest, as stubborn as any Scot.

“I’ll do it.” Jessie laid that soulful gaze on him that made his heart bleed.

Hell, he was only a man, and as it turned out, not a very strong one. Even worse, he couldn’t tell if the feeling of exultation was his or Olaf’s.

“Dinna worry, laddie, it’s not on ye. It was forced on ye, and ye wouldna let this lass down.”

They didn’t even know if Olaf could take her there. He might be making it up. Lachlan could see, though, that doubt didn’t matter. If there was a chance, a wee one, it was all that mattered to her.

“I’m going with you, then.”

“’Tis honorable, but it’ll be enough to keep her from floating off. Dinna worry, I’ll do my best to keep her safe.”

“For my dad,” she whispered, stepping closer. “It won’t mean anything. It’s just a touch between friends.” She gave him a hesitant smile, knowing he wasn’t buying that.

“And ye touch him, too, lassie. I want to feel a woman’s touch on me.”

“Olaf, you’re killing me.” Lachlan tilted his head back and squeezed his eyes shut for a second.

“Let’s get to it,” she said, all business. She squared her shoulders and held her breath, which raised her knockers and made them swell. The black lace around the edge of her dark green top contrasted with her creamy skin.

“Put ye hand right at her neck—”

“One condition,” Lachlan said between gritted teeth. “No directing. I can manage on my own.”

Olaf didn’t say anything for a moment. “All right. Suppose ye dinna want me making groaning noises either.”

“Definitely not.”

Lachlan waited for a moment, making sure Olaf was in the background. Silence. He touched Jessie’s face, running his thumb along her cheek and down to her jaw. Her eyes fluttered shut in pleasure but she forced them open. His thumb ran over her mouth, the mouth he would kiss. He ran the back of his fingers down the length of her neck and over the curve of her shoulder. Then he reached the fabric of her shirt. There wasn’t much skin showing. The top with faded words about rock and roll had long sleeves. As though she, too, realized that limitation, she grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head.

He could hardly breathe at the sight of her. The delicate pink bra left her cleavage a shelf of tempting flesh. The spray of freckles over her collarbone and shoulders and the mole at the curve of her neck were all now seared into his mind.

She started unbuttoning his shirt, all of her attention on the task. Her nails grazed his skin as she worked the buttons. He could see down into her bra, the intriguing crevice that begged for his tongue to dip into. When she got to the bottom buttons, she’d no doubt see his cock straining against his jeans.

He didn’t want to think about that. He ran his fingers through her hair, down her neck in the kind of stroking motion that—

He stopped the thought.
Keep it together. No matter how hard it is, no pun intended, you’ve got to get through this with your honor intact.

He trailed his fingers down her back instead as she worked the last buttons. She might be afraid, but she was fearless. She’d stood in front of him while he’d been out of it and wielding a sword, for God’s sake. Jessie would do what needed to be done, because she was amazing, strong, brave . . . and incredibly soft. Her skin felt like silk beneath his fingers.

She pushed his shirt back, and he shrugged out of it and let it drop to the floor. She touched his pecs, first with her fingertips, then the whole of her hands. She drew her hands down him, avoiding the bandage and the bruised area. He forced himself to breathe. The heat from her touch sank into his body, as though he were a block of butter and her hands were made of fire. He melted around her, felt all of him melt. He shut his eyes against it, all the while his body yearning for more.

No, he couldn’t lose himself in her.
Not mine. Never mine.

“Am I hurting you?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

He was grimacing, he realized. “Aye, it hurts.”

She tilted her head. “You don’t mean on the outside, do you?”

“No.”

“When you said that before, I couldn’t figure it out. But now I know.” She nodded toward his hand on her back, her eyes closing as she seemed to sink into his touch. “I know exactly what you mean.”

It was no less painful to touch her. He hoped Olaf was feeling that part, too, the bastard.

She’d left her hand flattened against his stomach, her fingertips tensing against his skin. He fanned his fingers across her collarbone, tracing the edge of the bra and fighting his desire to dip down into that crevice. He touched her stomach, making it tremble and her breath hitch. Just looking at her, head tilted back, mouth curved into a soft smile of pleasure . . . bloody hell, he could fall into a different kind of void right there.

He took a deep breath, tracing the etching of the cross. Her pants rode low on her hips, and he traced the hip bones that jutted out slightly, following the top edge of her waistband. He wrapped his hands around her waist, and his fingers could almost touch. He yanked her toward him, holding back at the last second before grinding her into his erection.

He lowered his head, whispering against the top of her head, “Can’t do this anymore. Too much.” He could hardly talk.

She nodded, bumping her head into his chin. “But we have to kiss.”

She faced him, her mouth relaxed and parted. Her fingers were pulsing against his back, kneading him. Her other hand was on his hip, clutching at the denim.

“A kiss.” The word came out on an agonized breath.

“Just one. He didn’t say kiss
es
.”

“One simple kiss. Then we step back.”

She nodded again, her pupils dilated, lids heavy. She slid her other hand around to his back and stepped up against him again.

He braced his hands on her face, the safest place for them to be, and moved in. Their mouths connected, moved back and forth. He remembered her quip about having a dead prostitute’s energy clinging to her. He could believe it. Other than being so completely entranced when she’d put her hands on him, she didn’t lack a sense of sensuality or ease with her body.

One kiss. They’d done that properly. So back away now.

She sucked on his upper lip, softly, pulling him closer just as he was about to move back. The graze of her teeth twisted him up inside, coiling, spiraling. Somehow his hand had slid down her back, fingers tracing the indent of her spine, flaring at the base of it. She let out a soft groan and shifted against him. For a dreadful second he thought he’d go off right there, but he held on. He hadn’t done so in more than a year. If she moved against him again—

She opened her mouth, just a little, and it was the most natural thing to slide his tongue inside. The agonized groan that came out now, that was him, pulled from deep within. She tasted of wine, sweet with a hint of cherry. His fingers dipped down beneath her waistband, middle finger nudged in the top of the crack of her fine arse. She raked her nails up and down his back. Killing him. Time to close it down. Shut it off.

She wiggled, just one wiggle, and then a
grind
, and his body jerked. He set her away from him, feeling the sticky release. He tilted his head back and slapped one hand over his eyes.

“Och, that was even better than I thought ’twould be,” Olaf said.

“All right, you voyeuristic perv, you’ve had your fun,” Lachlan growled.

“Aye, and ye had your fun, too.”

She was still standing there, looking delicious and flushed and a bit piqued. “You got off?”

Well, he could hardly hide it. “I didn’t mean to. A man can only take so much.” He was wet, uncomfortable, embarrassed, and still hard.

“That’s so unfair.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pushing those knockers into luscious mounds.

He raised his eyebrow, now wondering if that was the eyebrow
thing
she’d mentioned. “Unfair? Don’t you mean disgusting and wrong?”

“No, I’m going with unfair. I felt every bit of what you felt, and
I
didn’t get off.”

He did not like where she was going with this. “My going off was your fault.”

“
My
fault! How?”

“First you sucked on my lip.”

She snatched up her shirt. “And you stuck your tongue in my mouth.”

“One begged for the other. What happened to the nice simple kiss?”

She jammed the shirt down over her head, catching her nose for a second. Her hair was adorably messed when she yanked her head free. “Still, a kiss is just a kiss. It shouldn’t do . . . that to you.” She gestured to the region of his pelvis.

“It wasn’t just the kiss. That revved me, sure, and then you did a . . .
wiggle
thing.”

“I didn’t ‘wiggle.’ ”

“Aye, you did. Like this.” He imitated it as best as he could. “Then you did a
grind
.” Just the word conjured it up again. “And that did it.”

“You’re arguin’? After that bit of business, the two of ye are arguin’?” Olaf said.

“Oh, shut up,” They both said in unison.

“Fine, I’ll be leaving, then. We’ll go on the morrow when I’m ready.”

Arguing was much better than what they’d been doing. Lachlan didn’t want to think about her getting off, or not getting off. Except she still looked quite stung about it, and yeah, it
was
unfair when he thought about it.

Which made him want to do something about it.

Which was an even worse idea than this kissing for Olaf business.

He lifted his arms. “Look, I’m sorry guys get off easier and faster than girls do. God got pretty mad about that whole apple thing, I guess. Eve was the one who tempted Adam, if you’ll remember. That’s what women do, tempt the innocence right out of us.”

She pursed her lips in irritation. “You are . . . are . . .”

He curled his fingers, beckoning. “Bring it on. Throw any word you want at me.” He deserved all of them.

“I can’t even think of a word suitable for you right now. I’m going to bed.”

“Good night,” he called after her, watching her depart with an irritated sway to her arse. “Oh, and I won’t think less of you if I hear the wee motor going in the night.”

She flipped him off and stormed down the hallway.

Chapter 14

“ ‘W
on’t think any less of you . . .’ ” Jessie mimicked, staring at the ceiling in her room, arms crossed over her chest.

She was so pissed at him she’d lost all desire to get off.

She wasn’t pissed because he’d gotten off and she hadn’t. Well, maybe she was. Heck, she didn’t know.

Yes, you do. Seeing him like that brought out all that sexual stuff you’ve been trying to stifle. Knowing you’d done that to him. And totally giving away that you wanted it, too.

Luckily, exhaustion claimed her before she could delve too deeply into any of it. Unluckily, she dreamed of the kiss, of his hands on her bare skin and the way he felt beneath her hands.

Then things got ugly. The nightmare. Always the same. Terror. Fear. And afterward, carnage, screaming, and she at the center of it.

She never felt the screams leave her mouth, only heard them echo off the walls and pierce her eardrums.
Stop. Pull them back. Stop.
She couldn’t stop once it had begun. Like a wind-up toy, the screams had to run their course. Her eyes strained in the dark, everything so dark, to find reality.

Her door burst open and light flooded the room. Lachlan’s wild eyes found her first, sitting up in bed obviously unscathed. Then he searched the room for the horror that had made her scream.

“Night . . . nightmare,” she managed after the last gasps of screams. Spasms that had wracked her body, the last of the dream memories pulsing at the edge of her mind. “ ’Member, I warned you.”

He came to her bed and wrapped his arms around her. He wore just shorts and was cold, so cold. It was after four. He’d been outside, sitting on the stones. “Bloody hell, it did sound like someone was killing you.” He squeezed her tight, pushing the last of the nightmare away. “You alright?”

She sank into the feel of him, cold comfort in a literal way. “F-Fine now.”

“What are they about? You said you’d been having them since you were a child.”

“I d-didn’t know what it was at the time, but now I do: Darkness. Coming out in a classroom full of children, killing them.” She shuddered. “All dead.”

She hadn’t realized her arms had gone around his shoulders. Her cheek rested against his chest, and his heartbeat thudded in her ear. She felt safe, far from the nightmare now.

He squeezed her tighter. “And you? Does the monster kill you?”

“I’m the monster,” she whispered. “It’s me, my Darkness that kills.”

“It was only a nightmare.”

“Children. They were only children. I never see what sets me off, only when it begins. When I went into the first foster home, they couldn’t handle the nightmares. I don’t blame them. It disturbed the other children, scared them. I ran away, afraid I’d hurt them. After that I got labeled a problem child. They already thought I had emotional problems. I told them what I’d seen the day my mom died, the Darkness, and how my uncle was in my father’s body. Of course, they thought it was the trauma and my imagination.”

He was rocking her now, slowly back and forth. “It must have been awful.”

“It worked out all right, though. Mrs. Marsh—the lady who took in special needs kids—could handle the nightmares. She was up through the night anyway with some of the other kids.”

“You hear how awful foster homes can be.”

“The Marshes were good people. They didn’t do it for the money. They had lost a child many years before from a degenerative disease. They wanted to help other kids.”

He was stroking her arm with his finger, an absentminded motion probably. “You push everyone out of your life to protect them. But who has ever protected you?”

She turned to look at him, his face so close to hers. “You. You’ve protected me.”

He turned away from her, from the raw emotion he’d heard in her voice. “I haven’t killed the bastard yet.”

He would give himself no credit. She ran her hands down his arms. Still chilled. “Stop, Lachlan. Stop sitting out there in the cold punishing yourself.”

“I haven’t done anything to redeem myself. Hell, I’m backsliding.”

“What will you have to do to redeem yourself? Kill Russell? Get Magnus and me married with kids? Or die? Will that do it?”

“If I die . . . if I give up everything, that will make it all right.”

“No, it won’t.” She was shaking her head. “It won’t.”

He backed off the bed and got to his feet. “You’ll be okay. Go back to sleep.”

A few minutes later he took his place on the flagstones. Yeah, like she could go back to sleep now. She got dressed and slid out the door that led directly to the courtyard. The cold air nipped at her.

Stupid man.

He tried to ignore her as she stood next to him, but she knew he was aware of her. He’d know even if she’d slithered out stealthy as a snake.

“Let’s talk to Olaf,” she said. “I want to go to the Void.”

He cracked an eye. “What happened to going back to sleep? It’s a god-awful early hour of the morning.”

“Interesting that you’d notice. But I can’t sleep now, not with you out here and monsters roaming in my head.”

He got to his feet. “Remember the last time I thought something was a bad idea?”

“Going to the fair,” she said in a low voice. At least he hadn’t said,
I told you so.

“I think this is, too.”

“It’s my daddy. I can’t leave him there.”

“We don’t know if he’s still there.”

“I have to find out.” She saw him give in, resignation tightening his mouth. “Besides,” she added, “we already paid the price.” She punched his arm.

He pulled back with a hiss. “What was that for?”

“That smart-assed remark you made earlier. You deserved it.”

“Aye, I did. And more. Told you I was an arrogant arse.”

She walked back to the house, leaving him to follow. They passed through her room and out into the hall.

“You really trust Olaf?” He ducked into his room, coming out with a long-sleeved shirt.

“I have to. He’s my only way to the Void.”

“You don’t know what this place is, but it scared a big galoot like Olaf. And he’s dead.” His eyes darkened. “Aren’t you afraid of anything?”

“Everything. All the time. But I don’t let it stop me.”

“I know,” he muttered.

As she passed the living room, she tried to forget what had happened there that night. Fat chance. She stopped in the kitchen. “We’ll do it here. I like this space.”

“Good idea.” He pulled the shirt on. “In case something happens, it won’t be far from the front door.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“One of the Offspring astral-projected and got her soul snagged. If Eric hadn’t gotten her body to where her soul was being kept, she would have died. But I can’t go to this Void with your body, so I’ll have to take you somewhere. Haven’t got a clue where.”

“You’re trying to scare me.”

“Is it working? Even a wee bit?” He held his finger and thumb an inch apart.

“Nope.”

He looked up. “Olaf.”

The ghostly image appeared, overlaying Lachlan. “Ye’ve changed your mind, ’aven’t ye? Can’t say as I blame ye, lassie. It’s a scary bit of business. What if I can’t hold onto ye?”

“I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Not for lack of my trying,” Lachlan added, leaning back against the counter. He hadn’t buttoned his shirt, and she could see his nipples, hard from the cold, and the goose bumps across his chilled skin.

Olaf let out a resigned sigh. “All right, then. I live up to my promises.”

She stood in front of Lachlan and Olaf, her body stiff. “Let’s go.” A tremble rippled through her.

Nothing happened.

Olaf said, “I need a connection to ye, I think.”

Lachlan’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re going to say I have to kiss her—”

“Nae, I’m not saying a kiss. If I’m being honest, it was a bit much. Felt like an electrical storm, but I enjoyed it verra much.”

“Glad to oblige you,” Lachlan growled.

“Just hold hands.”

That should be safe enough. No way was she commenting on the storm. She linked hands with Lachlan. His were still cool. She blinked at the feel of Olaf’s energy, like touching something alive with a mild electrical current. Maybe this would work after all.

“Ready, lassie?” Olaf asked.

“Take care of her.” Lachlan’s voice was a bit louder than necessary. “I’ll hold you responsible if something happens to her.”

“What are ye gonna do, kill me?”

“Boys.” She cleared her throat. “Can we just do this? No one but me is responsible if . . . if I don’t come back.”

The room disappeared. Her
body
disappeared. She felt nausea and the tickling sensation of spinning too fast. She could see nothing, feel nothing outside of herself, like flying through thick fog. She couldn’t even see Olaf. Panic! Had she lost him already? Was she floating in the ethers? Suddenly, she felt his hands on hers, thick hands holding hers tight. Olaf’s hands.

In the distance, to the right, it looked like the sun was trying to shine through the fog. She felt a pull toward it, and then a counterpull away from it. Olaf. Was that the Light he was so afraid of?

They veered to the left. There, up ahead, was the opposite of the Light. A shape that pulsed with darkness. She felt like she was in one of those outer space movies where they close in on the evil starship. It was a sphere, perfectly round, with the texture of roiling black clouds. Like Darkness. She could feel it, the dark pulse thrumming through her being. That’s why Olaf was unnerved by it. Though they had no bodies, they could still feel the thing, like a living creature. She could also feel the emptiness of it, the vacuum that lent it its name.

“That’s it,” Olaf said, though she hadn’t actually heard his voice. Was he in her head?

Fear pulsed through her. And excitement.

“There’s the doorway I told ye about.”

She spotted it, a narrow opening in the curtain of black. “How will this work?”

He spun his hand and out rolled a golden rope. “It’s what I use to stay with Lachlan. Hold onto it. Give it a tug, and I’ll pull ye. Don’t tarry, lassie.”

“I won’t.”

She saw him clearly now that he wasn’t overlaying Lachlan. He looked a bit like Lachlan, the longish dark hair, brown eyes, but bigger. His handsome face creased in worry.

She grabbed onto the rope and floated toward the opening. It pulled her, too, but gently, with a soft throbbing motion. Her hand went out as she reached the slit, grabbing onto the edge. Her soul shuddered as she looked inside. It wasn’t an open space like she’d imagined, but filled with gray masses of . . . she didn’t know. Flesh, maybe.

She reached out, her hand the same ghostly quality Olaf possessed, and touched the closest part of it.
Ewwww.
It felt mushy but solid and warm, and was throbbing in that same rhythm. . . . like the inside of a body. As though the Void were a living, breathing organism. That made her want to head straight back to Olaf, who watched from a distance.

No, you can’t give up now. Remember what Lachlan said: you’re not afraid of anything. And he’s proud of that, even though he wouldn’t admit it.

She wound the rope through her fingers, around her wrist, and then held it in her hand. The gray masses left little space between them. When it breathed, or whatever it was doing, the gaps opened a bit. The rhythm matched the speed of a heartbeat, steady, even. She waited for the out breath, when the gaps relaxed, and pushed her way in. A second later the gaps closed, squeezing her between the layers.

Stay calm.

She could still see the opening on the left. To the right . . . nothing but more of this stuff. Two more breaths had passed. On the third she moved, inch by inch. Two moves in and she couldn’t see the opening anymore. Panic squeezed at her, even stronger than the organs.

You have the rope. That’s your guide out of here.

Another breath, another step. She had taken twenty of them, counting each one, when she felt it. She couldn’t quite name it, other than a sense of familiarity. Comfort.

“Daddy?”

Not spoken aloud, yet she heard the word echo through the “flesh.”

Nothing.

“Daddy!”

Louder this time.

“Allybean?” Disbelief saturated the word.

She didn’t have a heart here, strictly speaking, but it constricted anyway. “Daddy!”

She moved now with more purpose, sliding through the gaps, waiting through compression, another step. Following the feeling. Ahead, she saw a chamber, between the gaps. She didn’t wait for the out breath anymore; she pushed through, grunting with the effort.

Breaking through, she stumbled on the uneven floor. The space was no bigger than Lachlan’s living room, the walls that same sluglike material. The bumps in the floor reminded her of the roof of a mouth. She searched, expecting to find him right away. Where was he?

“Oh, God.” Her gaze had skipped over him the first time. What she saw, it was too bizarre, too terrible to comprehend. “Daddy?”

“Allybean, what are you doing here? Please tell me you’re a hallucination. I’ve had them before, but not so real and vivid and beautiful.”

Her nickname, again. It sent a warm wash of emotion through her. As she took him in, though, it was followed by nausea. Her knees went to gelatin. All she could see was the front of his face and the tips of his fingers and toes. He was embedded in the wall.
Embedded
.

She took a tentative step toward him. “I’m real. I came here for you.” Then she ran the last few steps, stopping in front of him, still not believing she’d found him. “You’re alive.”

“My soul is here, but I’m not alive. You have to get out of here. This place will swallow you.”

Everything warm fled. “That’s what’s happening? It’s swallowing you?”

He couldn’t even nod, though he tried. “How did you get here?”

She raised her hand. The rope wasn’t wound through her fingers anymore, but she still had a grip on it. “A dead Scotsman, if you can believe it. I just found out Russell put you here. He’s using your body. Now I’m going to get you out.”

She reached for his fingers but they slipped out of her grasp. Not enough of them sticking out to get a hold on. She dug into the “flesh,” and though it felt slimy, it was solid. “What
is
this place?”