Possess Me (7 page)

Pain throbbed in her leg, interrupting her silent pique. She hung up her phone, walking slowly toward the bathroom. She needed a hot bath, and some of Mambo Toussaint’s magical bath oils.

Thinking of the kindhearted priestess made her turn back toward the desk. Ben had given her something from the older woman, something she thought would give Allegra the answers she needed. And she definitely needed answers. Now more than ever.

 

 

 

SHE KNEW SHE WAS DREAMING BECAUSE SHE WAS SKYDIVING,
falling fast through the air toward a far too familiar line of trees. She hadn’t had this nightmare for months. Why now?

The wind surrounded her, slowing her descent, cushioning her body until she was floating safely to the ground. Definitely dreaming.

Darkness surrounded her, but she saw the flickering light of a fire through the trees and took off her gear, heading toward it. As she drew closer she heard the music, the chanting. It sounded like a party, but when she got to the clearing, the noise stopped, and one old man sat alone beside the fire.

Smooth ebony skin, white hair, and closely trimmed beard, the man didn’t look up when she came to stand beside him, fascinated.

“You don’t look like you’re dressed for camping.”

And he didn’t. Suit pants, suspenders, and shiny shoes didn’t fit with the rough landscape. He threw some moss into the fire, feeding it. “You’re a journalist. You should know what things look like, and what they are, are rarely the same thing.”

She sat down next to him. “I’m dreaming, but I don’t know why I’m here. Why can’t I dream about white sandy beaches filled with naked men and margaritas? Not that I’m complaining about the company.” She patted his arm consolingly. “Just the setting.”

He chuckled. “You have spirit, Allegra Jarrod.” He lifted his hand and took a puff off his pipe. “As to the place, why
not
here? You are what life has made you, this place most of all. You learned to be strong here, not to take life for granted.”

She looked around. She supposed he was right. Hadn’t she promised herself a thousand things if only she lived long enough to be rescued?

She would be a better friend, a better daughter. She would stay in one place for a while, write a novel . . . fall in love. “I’d forgotten.”

“And yet you still found yourself on the right road. Funny, isn’t it, how that works?” The old man glanced over at her and winked, bumping shoulders with her as though they were old friends.

“So we know why I’m here. Why are you here?”

He used a cane to pull himself up, placing a straw hat that seemed to appear from nowhere at a rakish angle on his head. “Just helping out a friend. You have another question.” He wasn’t asking, and suddenly she realized what was going on.

“Mambo Toussaint’s charm. That’s why I’m having this dream. I have a million questions.”

“Only have time for one.”

“Is there a way to free Rousseau from Bone Daddy?”

He laughed, loud and long, making Allegra smile in spite of herself. “Not many women would ask that question. That alone would make you special.” He shrugged, groaning and stretching, looking up to the sky. “As with most things, when you want something badly enough, you’ll find a way to get it. Especially if you have something the other party wants in exchange.”

The old man turned as if to go and Allegra stood up, confused. “Wait. What do you mean?”

He looked over his shoulder, his eyes sparkling with good humor. “That’s two questions. But you’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.”

“So they keep saying.” She sighed. “Thank you . . . what did you say your name was?”

“I don’t believe I did. But you know me, Allegra Jarrod. You always have. And we’ll meet again.” He disappeared between the trees, whistling. The wind picked up and Allegra glanced down at the fire just in time to see the flames shoot up toward her.

She gasped, nearly tumbling out of bed as she scrambled backward. Bed. She was in her bed in the living room. She concentrated on slowing her breathing, listening to the soft sounds of music coming from Michelle’s bedroom, telling Allegra that she was home.

Allegra lay back against the back of the cushions with a sigh. She must have fallen asleep right after her bath, her muscles totally relaxed, her mind still in turmoil. She slid her hand beneath the pillow and pulled out the small sewn pouch. What did the dream mean? And who was that old man?

An exchange. Did he mean with Bone Daddy? And when had she stopped doubting he actually existed?

Today by the window. She’d felt him. Heard him in her mind.

According to Mambo Toussaint, Ben, and Michelle, the Loa only wanted one thing: sex.

She closed her fingers over the buttery fabric of the charm, a slow smile spreading across her face. A girl had to do what a girl had to do.

“You’ve spent weeks talking me into it, are you chickening out on me now that we’re here?”

Ben leaned back in his chair at their private outdoor table at Rousseau’s café, lifting his face to the sun for a moment before shaking his head, a wicked smile curving his lips. “No way. I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting us into.”

“I don’t, but we’re doing it anyway.”

“Remind me to thank Mambo Toussaint for that gris-gris she gave you.”

Allegra raised her eyebrow knowingly. “I don’t think she meant it for you at all. In fact, I’m sure of it. I have a feeling she sees you as perfect son-in-law material.”

Ben flinched. “Sadly, I’m afraid her matchmaker skills are off when it comes to her daughter. I’m the last person in the world Michelle wants. She’s told me often enough.”

Not “I don’t want her” but “She doesn’t want me.” She’d been right. He had a thing for Michelle. Maybe she should have come alone this afternoon. “Are you sure
you
want to do this . . . with me?”

He reached for her hand, catching her gaze with his own. “Are you kidding? You are a fascinating woman, Allegra. More so by the day. Plus, I think you need a spotter.”

She started to choke, pulling her hand from his to reach for her bottled water, and Ben’s expression of innocent concern wasn’t helping. “A
spotter
?”

“In gymnastics, a spotter is there in case someone takes a tumble.” He shrugged at her disbelieving expression. “What? My mother loves the Olympics. The point is, I’m attracted to you, you’re attracted to me, enough to turn BD on . . . and drive Rousseau crazy.”

“How do you know it will drive him crazy?”

“Don’t look now, but it already is.”

Allegra turned her head to look through the café window. Rousseau was untying his apron, motioning the last of the female stragglers to the door, his angry gaze never leaving hers. “Uh-oh.”

She watched, her heart in her throat, as he strode out the door, rounding the corner until he was standing beside them. “Café is closing early today. I’m going to need to take the table inside.”

“I’ll help.” Ben started to stand up, but Rousseau’s look froze him in his seat.

“What are you doing here?”

Ben shrugged lazily, his expression so relaxed Allegra had to admire his acting. “I believe we’re here for a—” He glanced at Allegra, who nodded adamantly. “Yes, I do believe we’re here for a threesome. Is the café closed for that?”

“Jackass.” Rousseau stepped closer to Ben, his fists clenching, and Allegra knew she had to do something.

“I want you, Bone Daddy.”

Rousseau whipped around to face her, an expression of surprise and an excitement he couldn’t quite conceal coming over his face. “Allegra. Damn it, Ben, take her upstairs.”

She saw the golden glint in his eyes and her heart raced. Ben picked her up in his arms again and headed inside.

She leaned her head on his chest. “This is getting to be a habit.”

“I’d carry you anywhere, Legs. And that’s a fact.”

“Why didn’t he come with us?”

Ben shrugged, his expression tight, his eyes over-bright. “I think he wanted to give you a chance to prepare.” He slid open the loft door with one hand, carrying her into the large room and setting her down on a narrow kitchen chair. “Or maybe this is where I’m supposed to tell you that Bone Daddy doesn’t only want one thing. He craves it. It’s like food to him, and each time he needs more.”

Oh, God, it was only sex he wanted, right? She’d known this was coming, but the knowledge that she’d just invited a Loa to have sex with her suddenly made all the terrifying things she’d ever seen or heard about voodoo flash through her mind. What if he wanted more? A zombie army? The souls of innocent children? Blood?

That rich, sensual chuckle filled the air, and Ben took a step away from her to give her a clear view of the man leaning against the door frame. He’d certainly wasted no time, she thought, a little hysterically.

“What an imagination you have,
cher
. Morbid, but humorous. No zombies, no souls. And blood isn’t what I want to taste on my tongue, to soak my fingers in when I touch you. I’m not
that
kind of animal.”

He could hear her thoughts? Word for word? What was it with this city? Two psychic men prying into her mind and emotions was a little too much for her to take. But it didn’t take a psychic to understand
his
graphic words. Sex. He fed off sex.

“Not just sex,
cher
. Satisfaction. And today, it is your satisfaction I crave. Rousseau and I may be in true accord for the first time since we met. Neither one of us can wait to make you come.” He strode toward her, his motions confident, predatory. He was a jungle cat stalking his prey, eyes golden.

Allegra was still as a statue on the tiny wooden chair, feeling caught, helpless, as he reached behind him and pulled his white T-shirt over his head. The movement loosed his hair from its queue, and the locks fell over his shoulders, giving him the look of a warring conqueror. Damn, he was beautiful.

The muscles in his arms and abs rippled with leashed power as he reached for his belt. Every inch of skin revealed made her heart beat that much harder, that much faster. Made her mouth water in anticipation.

“Too late to back out now,
cher
. He tried to hold me back, give you a choice. But you made it months ago, didn’t you?”

He was right. She had. But that was before she knew about his identity crisis. Bone Daddy threw back his head and laughed, letting his khaki pants fall to the floor. He wore nothing underneath. Oh dear Lord.

“Did my identity matter all those mornings you spent in the coffee shop, pretending not to follow Rousseau’s every move? Or all those days you watched us from your window? Rousseau knew you were there. I told him. He watched you, too. Watched and felt an ache of longing at the sight of your sweet little body. The ache that you made that much worse when you came for us yesterday.”

She caught movement from the corner of her eye, saw Ben’s expression change to one of true surprise. See? He didn’t know everything. He hadn’t known she was a peeping pervert. But Bone Daddy did.
Rousseau
did. She felt her face heat, but in spite of her embarrassment, she couldn’t stop her gaze from lowering to his erection. She’d felt it against her, seen it at a distance, but up close it seemed impossibly large. Her body felt hot, restless, and she shifted in her chair. A twinge in her leg brought her back to herself.

“We can’t have that. Can’t have anything distracting you from pleasure. I want all your attention on me. On us. At least until we are done.” He knelt down beside her, his hand smoothing over her left leg, from hip to knee.

His touch was a fire on her skin. She was so lost in the feeling it took her a moment to notice the pain. Or the lack of it.

Allegra gasped. The pain. It was gone again. Her leg hadn’t stopped hurting once in over a year, until the other night at the club, and then yesterday . . . Bone Daddy, with a single touch, had made it disappear. How had he done that? And did he say it was only temporary?

Her shock must have shown in her expression, and he gentled his eternally wicked smile. Repeating the words that had echoed through her mind the day before, he said, “Don’t think, Allegra Jarrod. Just feel.”

He kissed her. Bone Daddy. Rousseau. It didn’t seem to matter to her body which one it was. His lips were just as soft as she’d imagined, just as warm.

Her body trembled with adrenaline. Free from pain, drowning in arousal, she wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to his, welcoming him in.

He pulled back enough to look into her eyes, his own flickering like a golden flame. “Benjamin, since you’ve taken it upon yourself to be our third, I’ll ask you to make yourself useful.”

“I’m on it, BD.” She heard Ben’s footsteps taking him farther away, wondering at her confidant, masculine friend’s instant obedience, but she quickly forgot him again as Rousseau’s mouth pressed against hers once more. It was him. Bone Daddy. He had a way about him. It clouded your mind. He was a walking aphrodisiac.