Love Beyond Sanity (19 page)

"It's like asking me not to breathe."

He nodded, and Charma saw compassion in his eyes. "Then I'm going to start limiting it for you."

Jason's mouth came down on hers. Charma gasped before she melted in his embrace. His lips were warm and soft against hers, but she was not misled about what his kiss meant. In no uncertain terms, the meeting of their mouths—breath-to-breath, heart-to-heart, soul-to-soul—was a claiming. He was letting her, and possibly the entire universe, know that she belonged to him, and he was taking his rightful possession.

Part of Charma, the sane part that still remembered he'd all but cut her off completely when they were younger and not believed in her after they'd been intimate, wanted to rail against his gall. How dare he grab her in the middle of this stressful situation, and then silently pronounce that she belonged to him. But having spent enough time in the delusions of others, Charma knew better than to lie to herself.

She loved that he had done it. If it meant she was attracted to the side of Jason that stormed out of elevators and pronounced things nonsense just because he couldn't believe them, then so be it. For eighteen years she'd lived without his presence in her life, she wasn't going to do it anymore.

Sex was what that kiss promised.

However, even she was not going to have their second sexual encounter in the hallway of the mental health institution while they were very possibly being pursued by two demons. Pulling back, she stared into his blue eyes and wished she could get lost in them. Reaching up, she stroked his cheek.

"Jason, if you can find a way to keep me from absolutely having to help each and every person who needs it, I would be thrilled." She shrugged. It was as good a time as any to tell him. "In fact, last night I sent myself out into the darkness to heal the very evil that dwells naturally here on earth."

The blue depths she'd been swept away in only moments earlier looked confused for a second before they clouded over. "You did what?"

"The earth called to me. It needed soothing and healing."

"Explain this to me so I can understand it."

She shook her head. "I don't know if I can."

"Try."

His tone, steely and cold, told her in no uncertain terms that he was not going to take "never mind" for an answer. She ran her hands through her hair as she tried to find a way to explain to Jason something she wasn't sure could be explained.

"Okay. When I pass a person who is in terrible emotional pain, I have to stop and heal them. Their soul calls to me for help, not in words, just in feelings. I stop and heal them as best I can. Obviously, I can't fix everything and it's not usually a permanent fix. But for a moment I can give them a little peace, take some of their pain."

"Internalize it for yourself. I remember from when we were children. It drained the hell out of you then, and it seems to me nothing much has changed."

He wasn't wrong, but she narrowed her eyes. It wasn't like she'd picked this particular power. She couldn't imagine that she'd been presented with a list and checked it off as what she wanted to do with her life on earth in the middle of a demon fight for humanity. She'd have to be an idiot.

"Don't give me that look. You know that I'm right."

"I don't like your tone."

"Then I guess it's a good thing you're not my mother."

Putting her hands on her hips, she resisted the urge to scream. "For many reasons, I imagine."

Jason's mouth opened but no words came out. Charma tried not to laugh. She'd just found out she could make him speechless. Shaking his head, he pulled her close again. His breath beat down on her face.

"Maybe we shouldn't start discussing things that neither of us can do anything about at the moment."

Evidence of how much he thought about the idea pressed against her, and she grinned. In her life, she couldn't remember ever feeling quite so powerful. She could reach out and grab him if she wanted to. He wanted her, and she desired him beyond belief.

Her cheeks heated but not with embarrassment. "The same thing happened the other night—as it has before. In the past I've been able to resist it. It's the earth, this dimension. I can't explain but it screamed for relief from the plague that all of this evil is placing on it. It's like its absorbing all of this negative energy. I had no choice but to offer help."

"And how did you help it?"

"I took some of its energy and gave it some of mine."

Jason let go of her and stormed a few feet away. "You're walking around with part of
it
inside of you. When will it go away? How long does it take?"

"That's just the thing." The tears filling her eyes surprised her, and she tried to swallow them. "It should have done that already, but it's not. I'm afraid it's a permanent addition to me."

In two steps, he re-crossed the distance. His eyes clear and his face stoic, he grasped her shoulders. "How do you feel? Any pain? Physical signs?" He looked up and down her body as if he assessed her for physical signs of the darkness within her.

"My body feels fine. It's my soul I'm worried about."

"Is your head going to start spinning around?"

"What?" Charma paused for a moment until it occurred to her that he was joking. "You said that with such a straight face."

A whisper of wind blew over Charma's left ear. She jumped and Jason drew her closer.

"I felt that too. Something is here."
I'm not going under again. That thing is not putting me back into the garden
.

Charma nodded, it was an unusual feeling to have Jason communicating in her head. Sensual, personal, and it made her want to take a deep breath in relief. It was as if she'd been waiting for this intimacy for eternity—all of which were the wrong emotions for her to be having at the moment.

"Hello, you two. I've been searching everywhere for you. Good for you, Jason, for getting your powers in line. I can't find you so easily now."

Self-loathing walked out of the darkness still surrounded with red light.

"I've readjusted myself, Charma. I know who you are. I know what you're capable of."

Charma felt a jolt of electricity fill her body and she screamed. She heard Jason yell as blackness filled her vision. Falling, it was the only sensation she could name. Her head swam and she wanted to vomit.

"And now I own you."

Self-loathing's laughter filled her mind until she saw nothing at all.

Chapter Thirteen

Sebastian tore through the front door of the mental health institution that he was going to burn to the ground in a matter of moments. His palms sweated in far too human a manner, and he wanted to throw something. That little sneak Drew was inside.

The little shit had sent him to the North Pole. Melting glaciers, drowning polar bears, and Santa. The fucking North Pole. It had taken him precious time to arrive there and then catapult himself back. In the mean time he couldn't be certain what his bitch of a sister had done and how many of the pesky creatures she had accumulated while he flapped around in the snow.

Narrowing his eyes, he saw the perfect victim for venting his not so subtle fury on. It was always good to have minions when you needed to unleash some rage. He vaguely noted this particular human was on the small side. Dark, with greying hair and a potbelly, he'd obviously not been taking care of himself. It didn't matter. Soon he'd have things to worry about other than whether or not he was overweight. In about five seconds, he'd have to start considering the question about god and an afterlife.

He smiled at his little joke as he picked up the man by the back of the neck. Humans were good for some things. Thanks to the little concoction he'd taken before he left New Orleans, Sebastian did not need the food, but it would make him feel better. If Drew was still in the building—and it pissed him off to no end that he could no longer tell—then he was a dead Outsider. Drew and whoever else had the misfortune to be of that heritage and hanging out in New Jersey on this particular evening.

* * * *

Truth was she'd never expected Dr. Jason Randall to move quite that quickly. One second she was breaking into the annoying blonde's mind, the next he was tugging the woman out of her range and disappearing down the hall.

Oh well, it wasn't like the woman would live very long. Not with the nightmare scenario she'd set up in Charma's unconscious. In a matter of hours, Charma, the Outsider, would scare herself to death.

She'd picked up enough from Charma's mind when she probed for fears to gather that was how her kinsmen referred to her. It was good to be back, and it felt wonderful to have so much power. Casually, she strolled into a patient's room. Her brother was so adept at eating human souls. Personally, she felt very little compulsion to do so.

It was such a messy endeavor. You never knew how much of the mortal got left inside of you. 'Sebastian' had ingested way too many. As far as she was concerned, she would fix this whole thing without needing to feed and be back home before she began to feel the hunger.

Self-loathing was a great name for her.

She bent down as she ripped the metal bar from the patient's bed. The comatose individual didn't budge. She guessed her victim was about sixty. The little man had, according to his chart that she quickly perused, been in one hospital bed or another for the majority of his life. She shook her head. Human understanding of their minds was so limited.

Blowing a piece of hair out of her eyes, she leaned down and placed her hand on his forehead. The little man opened his eyes, and she waited until his vision cleared.

Blinking several times, he looked around. "Where am I?" His voice sounded scratchy, and she wondered when the last time he'd spoken had been. Oh well, she couldn't care less when it came down to it.

"I feel terribly sorry for you. In no way will these pesky creatures ever be able to heal you. Lying on this bed," she stroked the side of his face. "You have bed sores and your muscles long ago atrophied. Someone in your family is rich and guilt ridden, or you wouldn't be in such a nice place."

The man shook his head. "I don't understand."

"Of course not." Gripping his neck, she turned his head violently until she felt his brittle bones break under her hands. The crunch as the last one succumbed to the force of her pressure was satisfying, and she grinned knowing that she still looked as flawless as if she'd just been applying lipstick, not ending a life. The more she killed, the stronger she got. Now she was feeling much better.

"Say hello to your Maker for me. He knows who I am."

* * * *

Eden was so sick of being stuck in the chair. Once she regained use of her limbs, she was going to make someone pay for what happened to her. In no way was she kidding herself, she knew exactly where to lay the blame—the feet of her mother—the deranged, sick woman, who had thrown her in this so-called mental health institution and left her to rot.

She hadn't been causing anyone any problems, had listened to all the warnings that they'd thrown at her and had kept 'the god-damn visions' all to herself. She hadn't informed Mrs. Kilpatrick that her cat was about to die. Nope, she'd let the poor animal get run over without a word. Every day she'd done everything that had been asked of her on the farm. When she'd grown old enough to leave, she hadn't. Not because she hadn't wanted to. No, because she'd definitely thought they needed her help. Things seemed to grow better under her hands, and the animals thrived. It wasn't like she'd been desperate to go back to her father's estate in any case.

The walls there felt like they wanted to eat her alive.

Every day for the three years of her childhood she'd spent in that house had felt like an eternity. How could she explain to anyone that trapping her inside was the equivalent of locking a regular person in the trunk of a car? There was no way to do so when she was supposed to act normal so as not to embarrass her father.

Oh, yes. When the drugs wore off, there would be hell to pay for this.

Mentally shaking her head, because she couldn't physically, she felt tears form in her eyes. Who was she kidding? It wasn't possible for her to hurt anyone. Never had been or she would have done it before they put her where no one would ever again hear her cry.

Except someone had. Two people, actually. A woman had come into her room and taken her out. Something about her energy had been so familiar, like coming home, or rather what she imagined coming home should feel like. Not like what coming home had been like for Eden. No, completely different than that.

And then Charma had come. The angel had actually entered her mind and spoken with her. Eden wasn't even sure how that was possible, and she was dying to have it explained.

Before she'd left her in the lobby, Charma had whispered in her mind that she'd be back soon. Eden couldn't be sure how much time had passed, but she was counting on the woman to keep her promise.

A shiver travelled up her back, and the intuition she'd never doubted went on alert.
Something
was watching her, examining her, trying to decide what she was.

A flash blinded her and for once, she didn't fight the onslaught of the vision. There was no one around to scream at or judge her.

A man's face formed before her eyes. Slender, high cheekbones, close-cut brown hair. Some people might find him attractive but Eden wanted to flinch.

His eyes were dead.

He had no soul.

And he wanted hers.

She tried to swallow the saliva that pooled in her mouth and was glad when she could. That meant some muscle control was returning.

Eden, listen to me very carefully
.

If she could have gasped she would have. Someone spoke to her, and she had no idea who it was. It was a voice she'd never heard before, ever. Male, she would swear it was the sweetest tones she'd imagined possible. Musical and singsong in a way she would have called hypnotic if she were at all susceptible to that sort of thing.