His Mortal Soul (2 page)

"I believe you,
mo lon dubh
.”
His Blackbird
. St. Kevin and the Blackbird had shared secrets of life, love and patience. Before the night was through he believed the same would be true between them. “May I walk you back to your residence building to ensure your safety?"

"Honestly, Kieran, I don't know if I should be scared of what's out there, or you.” The slight quaver in her voice would go unnoticed by human hearing, but it raised the hairs at the back of his neck.

Had she seen the changes in him when the demon took control? “Me?"

"I'm sure you play the whole good Irish Catholic angle to get your way with women.” She rubbed her forehead. The glossiness of her eyes told him how hard she worked to keep herself together.

Once, he'd been a good Irish Catholic, but now it was debatable. “At least you're to the point."

"I call it how I see it.” She shrugged. “Like you don't play up your accent, blue eyes and those dimples."

"You're the one with an accent. I speak like my fellow Irishmen from Kildare town. You're from across the pond.” He smiled. “But if I did play it up, would you let me walk you back to your room?” It mattered to him that she was attracted to him. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why, since tomorrow he'd no longer exist. When he went through with his ordination, he'd burn into ash and be taken to heaven. At least that was his theory. But tonight he was still the living dead and, more importantly, a man.

"Given the condition I'm in,” she said, clutching her body, “it's probably best if you see me to my dorm room."

He removed his jacket and held it out for her. “Here."

"Thank you.” She slid her arms into the oversized sleeves. The fabric swallowed her, making her appear even tinier than she was. “What are you doing on our campus? Isn't the seminary on the other side of the river across the bridge?"

"I came to see a friend.” Technically, she wasn't his friend yet, but he hoped that though their time would be short lived, she'd consider him one. “Where are you from?"

"Near LA, by the coast."

"Why study in Ireland? It's not exactly sunny.” Which he was thankful for, or he probably would have burned to a crisp by now. On more than one occasion, he'd gotten pinned by dawn creeping up on him.

"A chance to get away.” She forced a smile. The corners of her lips trembled.

A succession of images invaded his mind. Her arms had been trapped behind her back by a man, who had knelt and held her up against his body. Her face had ached from having been hit repeatedly. Gripped by the intensity, Kieran stopped. Another man had held a knife, and parting her legs, he'd cut her panties. She'd screamed. The man had struck her cheek with the back of his hand, making her whimper. The tip of the blade had dug into her flesh. Kieran stumbled to his knees. The sensation was like searing heat had scorched her flesh. She'd thought of her parents. Of how her death would hurt them. She'd closed her eyes.
Don't let me die like this.
It was a plea as much as a prayer.

The memories stopped. Kieran squeezed his eyes shut.

"Are you okay?” she asked him.

He placed a hand on the ground in front of him, unable to focus.

"Kieran?” Her voice trembled.

He breathed in relief. Asking her about where she came from had brought up the reason she'd left. “I'm sorry.” He exhaled the pain, stood and met her gaze.

Her eyes widened with horror. “What for?” As though she sensed he knew, she sped her footsteps.

He pointed back to the pathway. “For men like him and...” He stopped himself from a slip up. “We aren't all like that."

She walked into the residence foyer and to the stairs. “I guess you'd know, given you go to a school of all men and most of them have never been with a woman."

He followed her up to the second floor into the hall. “I wouldn't say most have never been with a woman."

She inserted the key into her room's door, opened it and held it for him. “Are you saying most have?"

"It is hard to say, of the ones I know well enough to make an assumption regarding their past.” He stepped past the threshold, unsure of what would happen. “I'd say most have.” Thankfully he didn't burst into flames.

The scent of cherry blossoms filled the air. The room was neat. A bed was pressed to the wall, a desk as well. There was a wooden bench and a computer chair. Light streamed in from the window, bathing the space in an orange tinge.

"And you, Kieran?” She closed the door.

They were in the room alone. She'd let him in. But why did she trust him?

"What about me?” he asked.

She removed his jacket and tossed it on the bed. A fitted teal shirt hugged the mounds of her breasts and hips. Black leggings contoured her thick thighs. What would she taste like?

"Have you ever been with a woman?"

Her interest in his sexual history ignited the flames of hell through every taut inch of his body. The heat not only put his soul at risk but also her very mortal life ... the repressed passion within him could burn through her flesh and claim her soul too. He swallowed hard.

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In the safety of her dorm room, Sephora turned toward Kieran. His pensive expression concerned her. He'd yet to answer her question. Maybe he wouldn't respond. She wasn't ready for him to go. It had been over two years since she had felt drawn to a man. As she leaned against the door, his gaze darted to the handle. Was he contemplating his departure? Please, let that not be the case.

To be this near him caused her mind to whirl. The good kind of dizzy. She had sensed him since the morning two weeks ago on the bridge. She felt him—under her skin. Somehow, he'd gotten into her through and through without ever touching her. She'd let a man into her room, her safe space, for crying out loud! Even stranger still, she had wanted to since the morning on the bridge.

Her best friend Amanda had hoped she'd be interested in a man again. Sephora had been happy when the nightmares stopped. The damp cool temperature of Ireland had settled her restlessness, but the real scars were still inside.

Moonlight streaked on his face from between the curtains, giving his features a dangerous beauty. The angles of his jaw were sharp. His broad shoulders obstructed part of the window. Her best guess was that he was a foot and half taller than her, possibly more. All she was sure of, was he made her feel protected. And now she had him in her room. Good thing she'd cleaned the mess up in here before she'd headed out. Picking something to wear had been an ordeal. She'd gone through her entire wardrobe before settling on the teal shirt and tight black pants. Dressing in a way that flattered her body didn't mean she was inviting sexual advances.

"I've never been intimate with a woman, Ms. Silverman.” He cleared his throat and as he crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles flexed.

She smiled. “My name is Sephora.” The look on his face when she'd refused to provide it on the bridge still brought a smile to her lips. She'd been shocked to find someone out at dawn. The reason she liked being out then was because she could be alone. The tranquility on the bridge was one of the things she loved most about being there. Unlike LA, this town seemed to put itself to bed at night.

"Sephora, beautiful bird in Hebrew and Silverman as a surname,” he said with a smile. “Are you of Israeli background?"

She bet he was cocky. She laughed at the question. “My father is."

"Ach, I see.” He nodded.

It was that kind of
seeing
to him. He was aware that Judaism was passed on through the mother, not the father. He knew she wasn't Jewish though her surname might give some that impression.

"And your mother?” he asked.

It had broken her parents’ hearts when she'd told them she was going to Ireland. “She's southern Baptist.” Since Sephora's episode, as it was now referred to, the sadness in their gazes when they looked at her made her unable to forget or put what had happened behind her. Two years of hiding was long enough. She wanted her freedom back. Doing her Master's degree abroad would be an adventure. A chance for her to spread her wings and fly again. She'd always wanted to study abroad. The University of Ireland's Kildare campus had accepted her, and she'd done the same in return.

"Ay, a mixed marriage.” With his knuckles, he rubbed his chin.

That was one way of putting it. Was it still a big deal in Ireland to have a religiously mixed marriage? Hadn't the tensions and violence ended between Catholics and Protestants? “Trust me, that wasn't the most complicated part of the mix,” she said.

The corners of his eyes softened. “I'm aware that in America, race can be more problematic than religious affiliation.” He nodded.

Race could be more problematic? That was understating the last two to three hundred years of history in America. “What about for you? Is race more problematic?"

"Not in the least.” His gaze moved over her, and he licked his lips. “Where does your faith reside?"

If it wasn't race, it was religion or politics, of course. “I'm agnostic. I prefer facts, statistics, and science. Whatever faith I might have had was lost some time ago.” Maybe there was a God, but she knew little of him. However, she had come across true evil once.

He frowned.

He'd never had sex with a woman. Nothing he'd done demonstrated an interest in women. Other than the way he looked at her. There was something there, a spark. The school he attended was all men. Maybe he was into men. She'd be disappointed, but it was better she know before she made a fool of herself. “Have you ever been intimate with a man?"

That she always got to the point couldn't be helped. Since what had happened to her, she didn't do anything without asking or stating the outcome. It often put others on the defensive, saving her from being in that role.

"No.” His brow creased.

He'd been much faster at responding to that question. There was always the possibility that he liked men, but couldn't act on it because of his beliefs. “Are you attracted to women?"

"Yes, I'm attracted to you ... I mean women.” He closed his eyes and his complexion reddened. “But I'd never—"

As he opened his eyes, she met his gaze. “You'd never what, break your vow of chastity?” Just because she couldn't prove or disprove the existence of God, that didn't mean she wanted to anger
Him
, or
Her
either. The man had kept his record unblemished until tonight and she was about to pull an Eve on him, offer him a taste of her forbidden fruit.

"I've yet to make a commitment of abstinence. My parents were older. They had a lot of health challenges so I couldn't go out much when I was younger. If I was going to be intimate, I wanted it to be right—meaningful. The circumstance never materialized.” He sighed and his arms lowered to his sides.

Cute, he was explaining his virginity to her. “You don't have to be embarrassed about never having been with a woman."

"I'm not. Far too many people take their sexuality too lightly.” He exhaled heavily. “What I meant to say earlier was that I'm nothing like your date."

"Patrick?"

He nodded.

"That jerk definitely wasn't my date. I haven't since...” Not the way Matt had been her date. His father was the director of the hospital and hers was a surgeon. She hadn't thought anything of him asking her to meet him at his parents’ beach house. They had been out on a few dates before. Matt was always so polite. But when she had arrived there, Alec, Matt's creepy friend, was there too. She had wanted to leave. Get out. Bail. It had been her own fault for not listening to the voice inside her. She hadn't told anyone where she was going, on Matt's instruction. The moment she'd tried to get away, they'd chased her, tackled her to the ground and when she'd begged, they'd laughed at her. When she'd fought back, Alec had carved a swastika into her thigh with the knife tip.
A lesson for you to know your place
, Alec had said to her while mutilating her. They'd robbed her of her own body. The only time she felt anything these days was when she crisscrossed a pattern with a razor blade over the branding the demon had etched in her flesh. She'd do anything to rid herself of those demons.

Kieran collapsed to his knees. “Lord, guide me from the part of me that would seek vengeance.” He padded forward with his hands, and crawled.

What caused his collapses?

"Kieran?” Was he hurt from the altercation with Patrick? He'd lifted Patrick as though he were a ragdoll. It had to have been adrenaline. People didn't just do that kind of stuff.

She rushed to him and placed her hand on Kieran's shoulder. Awareness moved through her body like electric current. Since what had happened to her, she'd couldn't tolerate being touched, let alone feel physical desire. But with him, she did. What about him caused this change in her?

"How can you stand to touch me?” A stream of dark liquid trailed down his cheek from his eye.

She jerked back into the door. “I-I...” His eyes darkened with intensity. Misery strained his expression. She waited for him to say it. For him to lash out at her, to turn on her. Degrade. Belittle. She clenched her fingers into fists.

"I have never thought I could want to kill.” His voice was gruff. “But I'd gladly squeeze the life from them."

Them who? Did he mean her? It figured after everything she'd been through, everything she'd survived, that she'd die at the hands of some crazed religious nut. Yet despite his words, she wasn't afraid of him. Maybe she'd died inside that night, or maybe they'd taken her soul. Something about her had to be a magnet to those who would harm her. Her soul didn't feel fear as it had that night or when Patrick had turned on her.

"How are you going to do it?” She hoped he'd be quick about it.

"What?” he asked as he narrowed his eyes.

"Kill me. How will you do it? It kind of seems merciful, if you ask me. For you to put me down. I'm just curious. A knife can be problematic. Blood. A lot of blood.” The mind numbing agony of the pointed end, then the letters n, i, g, g ... carved in her skin by her hip bone. She closed her eyes. She couldn't bear it. The racist slur, forever etched on her. “Suffocation maybe? The body fights, and it's erratic, but peace comes too soon."