Fallen Angels 05 - Possession (48 page)

“There’s always room for Jell-O, sweetheart.”

“Try me.”

“Couldn’t we start with something easier, like you borrowing a fiver from me?”

“Joke all you want. But I’m right about all this—and do the math. It’s mutually assured destruction, so the playing field is leveled.”

“Yeah, but come on. Assuming that you’re not fucking me completely, and I really don’t believe that for a heartbeat, do you honestly think if we go to the Maker and hit Him with this, that He’ll be all, ‘Whatever, you guys,’ do you? Not going to happen.”

“Won’t be the first time He’s hated His creation, I’ll tell you that. And what is He going to do? Make me act if I don’t want to?”

“But according to you, if Nigel’s dead, my fate’s sealed—so technically, I’m out of the game already.”

“Not if you quit, Jim. Not if you stop playing right here and now.” When he fell silent, she nodded. “You think about it, and then you call me.”

Jim expected her to sidle in for a kiss. Instead, she just gave him another long look … and then she was gone into the night.

Left alone, he turned back to the house, where he had to imagine there was a round two or three going on.

She hadn’t even tried to get to the soul in play. And she’d shown up without minions, without some sex ploy, with nothing but her charming self, and a bright idea—not her usual MO. But come on, he wasn’t going to be a fool.

Yeah … the only rationale that made any sense was that she’d decided she really couldn’t win this. Except … they were even, now, and she was arrogant—so he wasn’t sure he could buy that. Then again … they were two-two only because he’d given her one of the rounds.

Jim wandered slowly back into the house, passing through the door again, sitting back down on the sofa.

She had a point about the free will thing. Choice had always been part of the human experience, for good and bad. Did that apply to angels and demons, too?

It had never dawned on him that he could opt out of this bullshit.

And Devina was right.

He did
not
want to be Nigel when he grew up.

The question was, how could he independently verify all of it. And how much time did he have before the Maker came a-knockin’ … and Jim ended up with a “promotion” he didn’t want?

Cait was back in the Palace Theatre’s parking garage.

She was once again on that ramp that ran down between levels, walking fast, hearing the footsteps of someone behind her.

Panic got her going even quicker as she shot out to the lower lineup of cars and broke into a full-on bolt. Dragging her purse in front of her, she dug into it for her phone—

A gun. This time she had a gun.

Instead of her cell, she took out something mean and black. It was loaded, although she didn’t know how she knew that, and as she gripped the weapon, her palm fit perfectly, sure as if the thing had been made for her.

In the manner of dreams, she kept running, heading for the doors of the elevator that seemed to be ten miles off in the distance and staying that way. And in her wake, her attacker was getting tighter on her, closing in—

In the blink of an eye, she was at the vertical pair of buttons, one arrow up, one down. She jabbed at both with her left hand, craning around, waiting for whatever it was to come out of the shadows.

The ceiling lights were extinguishing one by one, tracking the figure, always a step ahead so she couldn’t see who it was.

Punching the buttons—she was punching the buttons as those illuminating fixtures went dark and death came for her.

The doors were not opening. This time she was locked out of her escape.

Spinning around, she slammed her back against the elevator’s closed entrance and put the gun up at chest height.

“No!” she screamed. “Stop!”

Whoever it was just kept coming. For an eternity, she stood braced for death’s approach, time slowing to a crawl even as her heart fluttered in her chest and her blood boiled with terror.

“Noooo!”

Losing control, she pulled the trigger over and over again, shooting at whatever was coming at her, the popping sounds echoing all around, the recoil vibrating up her forearms and into her shoulders. The more she squeezed off rounds, the faster her attacker seemed to come—

The lights directly over her head were the only ones that stayed on. So she finally saw what she was firing at.

Her scream was louder than the gun—

“Cait! Cait, wake up!”

Someone was in her face, holding her arms, getting in the way.

Stuck between reality and the nightmare, she pushed against a solid weight, trying to get away, panic overtaking higher reasoning.

“Cait!” The voice, the deep male voice, chipped a crack in her fear. “Easy, there—it was a nightmare, whatever it was—just a dream,
Cait
.”

She froze, everything except for her breathing going still. “… I was going to die…”

“Come here … lie on me, come here.”

Duke. It was Duke with her in the bed, and the instant she made that connection, she collapsed into his bare chest, his arms wrapping around her and holding her tight.

“Shh, you’re okay. I got you.”

The shivering came next, her whole body quaking. “Thank God you’re here,” she said roughly. “Oh, God…”

If she’d woken up alone?

“You’re all right.”

“It was awful … it was so real—I was back in that parking garage, getting chased—”

“What parking garage?”

As she told him what had happened to her, she felt him stiffen underneath her, his powerful body tightening up as if he were prepared to go out into Caldwell and find whoever it had been—and kill them.

“Except, in the dream, I had a gun, I was shooting—but at the last moment, it …” She covered her face with her hands and felt like throwing up. “It was a horrible corpse attacking me, a rotting half skeleton with glowing black eyes—it was so
real
…”

Gradually, thanks to him stroking her back with his broad hand, she calmed down.

“I wish you’d told me about that sooner,” he said, after she finally sighed and relaxed.

“The police haven’t found anyone.”

“Bad part of town, that theater district.”

“I know.”

In the silence that followed, she thought of G.B.

She propped her chin on Duke’s chest. “Just so we’re really clear. I’m not seeing him anymore.”

“The singer?”

“Yes. I’m going to call him tomorrow.”

“So he doesn’t know about this. Between you and me.”

“He will, though.”

Duke tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. After a while, he said, “Good. I’m a one-woman kind of man.” He leaned up and kissed her. “Well, when it comes to you, that is. And as for what went down in that garage? I wish I’d been there to help you.”

Funny, that was just what G.B. had said. Then again, there was a commonality to the protective instinct in men, wasn’t there.

Duke frowned. “It was just before you came and saw me at the club, wasn’t it.” When she nodded, he cursed. “Great. I jump you like an animal—”

“I wanted it, remember.” She traced his jaw with her fingertips, feeling the stubble of his five-o’clock shadow—or five a.m., or whatever the hell time it was. “I debated going to see you for the longest time.”

“Yeah?”

Boy, it was so much easier to talk to him like this, lying close in her bed, the soft light from the hall glowing over the planes of his face.

“As I told you, it’s been a long time for me.”

Duke pulled her in for another kiss and then rolled her onto her side. “Was it worth the gamble?”

“And the wait.”

With slow, lazy strokes, he licked his way into her mouth, and it was funny how it no longer felt so strange to put her arms around the back of his neck and feel his pecs on her naked breasts. This was natural; this coming together was like breathing, necessary and easy.

Parting her thighs, she welcomed him in close, and this time they both went for the drawer, making sure that a condom was in place before things got too far.

Thank God he’d caught that mistake when he had. Although that punishment thing had seemed a little unnecessary.

Slow, loving, and tender.

As he entered her, she sighed and wrapped her legs around the backs of his thighs, giving herself up to the communion. He moved like a wave on top of her, the pleasure building slowly, cresting into a shimmering climax that went through her and lingered, her body tingling, a pleasant sense of falling overtaking her.

And then his orgasm followed, his hips tightening, his breath hitching in. As he worked himself in and out of her, she ran her hands up and down his surging back, the smooth skin and tight muscles undulating under her palms.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered when he finally fell still.

“Me, too—”

A flash from outside sent a fresh source of light into the room, illuminating them both.

“What the hell?” he said looking around.

“Was that lightning?”

“Not this time of the year, it isn’t,” he said grimly as he withdrew … and got out of bed.

Jim was not leaving the pair of them unprotected. As he stood with his hands on the outside of the woman’s cute little house, he passed some energy from his core into the structure itself, the transfer creating a brief flare of light … along with a protective barrier that would warn him if the demon, or any of her types, crossed its threshold. It would also inform him if that man or woman took off as well.

He was so over sleeping on her couch, however. It was five a.m., well, nearly six, actually, and he wanted to go home to catch an hour of sleep, have a shower, food up. The truth was, he was dizzy from lack of rest and nutrition, and as much as he was committed to this round of the war, his years at XOps had told him that he was a danger to himself and others if he got as worn-out as he was.

Not that he would necessarily have been sleeping at home.

Goddamn Devina. Just when he thought she’d nailed him for the last time? She popped a new and different kind of shit.

Unbelievable, he thought for the hundredth time as he removed his palms from the clapboard and stepped back.

To his eyes, there was a light field all around the home, starting at the ground line and rising up past the first and second floors to run over the hip roof.

Tight as a tick.

Ghosting home, he walked up the front steps of the mansion and reached for the door. As he pulled it open, no squeaks … and no creaks as he went down to the kitchen and cracked the refrigerator. Lots of food, now, and he ate the remnants of that beef stew Sissy had cooked cold and standing up.

The stuff was really good even under those circumstances.

His next move was to go up and hit the shower. Funny, the water tasted different as he opened his mouth under the spray—it used to be copper and dirt; now it was like it came from some kind of spring, a sparkling clean rush that danced over his tongue and down his throat.

Hard to believe that Sissy had managed to scrub up the inside of the pipes, too, but he’d take it.

Stepping out from the water, he wrapped a towel around his hips, picked up his clothes and went into the hall. It was impossible not to think of her down even farther, past those closed doors, lying in between her sheets.

He wanted her in his bed. But he was willing to bet his left nut that he wasn’t going to be lucky two nights in a row—not when he was getting back this late.

Cursing, he pushed his way into his room, dumped his duds on the dirty pile, and draped the towel on a hook on the back of the door. Then he walked barefooted across—

“You’re home.”

His steps faltered as he closed his eyes in relief and gratitude. “You’re here.”

“Where else would I be?”

The world went for a little spin, the pitch-black room whirling around him. “Lemme get some sweats on. Hold up.”

Throwing a hand out, he navigated his way across to the clean pile and bent down—

Click.

As light blinded him, he jacked upright and went for his cock, covering it with both hands. “Clothes—need clothes.”

Fuck him, he thought as he glanced over. Sissy was sitting up in the bedding, blond hair tangled, cheeks pink like she was a little warm from having been curled up. The white T-shirt she had on was entirely modest … except when the letch part of him began to speculate what was under it.

She seemed totally shocked as she looked at him. “I figured you … couldn’t … see…”

While her voice drifted, he could feel her eyes on his body—and she was looking at just about everything he had. “Let me get dressed first,” he told her roughly.

But she didn’t move, and that meant he couldn’t: She’d caught him on the side view, so if he dropped his hands to pick up his sweats, he was either going to flash her his ass, or give her a lateral full monty.

Which, considering how he was hung? Would still give her a hell of an eyeful.

“Sissy, look away, would you.”

God, it was impossible not to remember the last time he’d said those words to her … down below, after Devina had worked him over and the remnants of the abuse were all over him.

Don’t look at me!

Now he was ordering that for a different reason: He still had her best interests at heart, one hundred percent. The problem was, his body wasn’t connecting all that well to his brain at the moment.

Because he had the horrible conviction that she might, possibly, like what she saw.

She certainly wasn’t screeching away in horror. In fact, it seemed as though she were—

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered.

Jim closed his eyes. Prayed for self-control. “Listen, you need to—”

“Let me see you …” She cleared her throat. “Please, just let me…”

“Sissy, it’s not going to happen. We can’t
—
I can’t …” Such a load of horseshit that was. His cock was starting to wake up, and fully operational was so not what this situation needed. “Listen, you need to go back to your room. Or I’ve got to go—”

“I got cheated, Jim. I was taken too soon—don’t make me spend an eternity wondering what it’s like.”