Possession (13 page)

* * * *

She was worn out and more exhausted than she could ever remember being. The adrenalin high that had sustained her during their flight out of that apartment building was no longer in her bloodstream. It was only by sheer willpower that she managed to make her way into the parlor and collapse on the long divan. She was asleep before she could get comfortable.

The grandfather clock was chiming, waking her up. J counted the strokes. Three. Four. The chiming stopped. Surely it wasn’t four in the afternoon? She felt groggy and listless. Sitting up was an effort. Maybe it was four in the morning.

Could it be four the next day? By the way she felt, it was possible. But more than likely she hadn’t heard all of the strokes.

Getting to her feet, she stumbled her way into the foyer and opened the door to the clock, lifting a questing hand to touch the face. Good grief, it was
eight
! Which meant it could either be morning or evening.

Her stomach reminded her she hadn’t eaten in some time. J went into the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table. Munching into it, she first checked the microwave to see if Miss Carrie had left anything in it that morning. The oven was empty. However, the fridge held a plastic-lidded plate she knew hadn’t been there yesterday. Taking off the top, she sniffed the contents. Meatloaf. Replacing the lid, she shoved the plate in the microwave to reheat.

Next, the radio. That, unfortunately, didn’t give her a clue, either.

“It’s eight fifteen at KLGM.”

“Morning or evening, asshole?” she muttered, switching it off. Normally she didn’t have a problem with her days and nights. But after yesterday she needed to get her internal clock readjusted. Being irritable on top of everything else didn’t help matters, either.

On a hunch she phoned Miss Carrie, but the answering machine picked up. She left a message briefly explaining her confusion and requested that the woman give her a ring back just to help get her back on track. Hanging up, J went back to the microwave to retrieve her hot meal.

She ate in silence in the kitchen. Now that she had a little rest under her belt, her mind was free to reevaluate the day’s past events. It was also free to think about Kiel.

A teasing sensation tickled her stomach whenever she thought about him. It was like the time her parents had promised her she could ride the rollercoaster at the amusement park, but at the end of the day their words had come up empty. They were always overprotective when it came to her, although Douggie got to do countless things she could only dream about.

The thrill of preparation, followed by the hurt of refusal.
Admit it. This is going to be your lot in life.

J sniffed and blew her nose on her napkin. She had chided Kiel for being negative, but she understood his pain. She never allowed anyone to see how lonely she was. Or how bitter she could be because she was blind, and being blind was a greater handicap than anyone could imagine. All essence and reality of beauty and beautiful things was gone. She would never discover such a simple happiness. Never experience their honest perfection. Things like the Grand Canyon, rainbows, a flower, a lover’s face.

J felt her face flame, then tears spilled onto her hand. Angrily she swiped at her eyes and cursed herself for her weakness.

She had dealt with many men in her life, several of whom had expressed an interest in her. She had been on exactly three dates, each one with a different man. In the end, though, they had all bid her
adieu
and never called again. It was just too much trouble to deal with a blind woman.

However, Kiel was different, and she knew why. His handicap was greater, and therefore his guilt at being “different” overshadowed hers. Together they were two souls reaching out for something to hold on to. For someone who would understand their torment. For a love that could transcend all that.

She knew that neither she nor Kiel had been looking for a relationship with each other. But the moment she had seen his aura blazing like the last dying gasps of a star, her heart had gone out to him. She had reached out to him and touched him—she had
touched
him—and her heart had melted into his mold. She had fit him. She had filled all those cold and blank spaces inside him, then found his arms holding her more tightly to keep her there. Instead of keeping her away from him, Kiel had shared his emptiness with her. Behind that hollow space she had found a love that had beckoned so brightly and fiercely, it stunned her.

Yet he tried to keep her away. He tried to convince himself it was an impossible relationship. She agreed. It was impossible. Impossible that it could happen, impossible to think there was any future to be had, and impossible to believe it could go past a single kiss. Or a single night.

Something twisted in her heart. The pain made her clutch her chest as another tear rolled down her cheek. Unable to finish her meal, J got up from the table and was heading for the sink when the phone rang. Hope blossomed like a dozen roses.

“Hello?”

“J? This is Cassie. What was it you wanted to know?”

Hope withered and hung its head.

“Thanks for calling back. I laid down for a while and now I can’t seem to figure out if it’s day or night.” It was hard trying to keep her disappointment from coloring her voice.

“It’s…let’s see. My clock says it’s eight thirty-three at
night
, J.”

“What day of the week?”

“Wednesday. By the way, you didn’t come home yesterday. Anything wrong, dear?”

“No, no. It’s this case I’m helping the police with,” J answered, offering that as an explanation. Miss Carrie knew about her occasional episodes to help the law. Her recent visit to the hospital was one thing she didn’t want to alarm the woman about. Not right now.

“My goodness. You must be dragging if you were out all night. No wonder you came home and fell asleep. Are you going to be okay? I left you a plate in the fridge.”

“I’ve already eaten it,” J assured her. “Thank you.”

“Are you through with the case? Or will you be going out again?” the woman inquired.

“I don’t know. I know it’s not over yet, but I won’t know if I have to go out again until they call.”

“Well, if you need me for anything you know how to reach me. Meanwhile I suggest a hot bath and back to bed. Sounds like you need it.”

“Thanks. That sounds like a fabulous idea. Talk to you later.”

They said their goodbyes and J hung up. It was after eight in the evening. That same evening. Which meant there was a very strong possibility Kiel might come by.

Tonight.

A shiver ran through her. Tentatively she fingered the tie around her hand. The cut would need cleansing and proper bandaging. She could handle that upstairs after her bath. A nice long soak would be nice, indeed.

Upstairs she filled the claw-footed tub with bubble bath, stripped, and lowered herself into the hot water. A few minutes soaking, then she’d get up and get dressed. A few minutes. Before she knew it, her eyelids were drooping.

The water was sensuous, swirling around her thighs and breasts. If she allowed herself, she could imagine it was Kiel’s hands touching her. Tentatively she let her fingertips circle one full breast, circling in smaller and smaller whorls until they reached one stiffened peak. If she tried hard enough, she could imagine it was his fingers running like satin over her skin. It would be his mouth branding her with his kisses. If Kiel came over, would he bring her upstairs and make love to her on the bed? J tried to think of other places where they could have sex but her tired mind was too fuzzy to think.

She raised her head from the edge of the tub. Would he come over at all? Something had happened back in that apartment building. It had affected him, made him morose and more despondent than normal. When they had parted company they had not been on good terms.

How could she have snapped at him like that? There was no excuse for her chewing him out. None. He had been right when he reminded her about his condition.

Another thought zipped through her like lightning, and her hand flew to her mouth to cover the sob that caught in her throat. What if that was the last time she would see him? What if he was gone, permanently gone, before she had a chance to apologize for her behavior? Before she had the chance to say goodbye? Before she…

A tiny moan escaped, and a tear rolled down her cheek. What if he disappeared before she had the chance to truly love him?

Bending over the water, J beat her fists against the rim of the tub and let her sobs echo in the room. No one would hear her. No one would care. Tears fell onto the bubbles like raindrops as her body shook.

All she had to remember him by were his kisses and the way he had touched her. Not just her skin, but her heart and mind. He was a man turned spirit, and he had been drowning in loneliness as much as she.

She had heard that cops had the highest divorce rate in the country. It was understandable, given their dedication to their job, and the hours it kept them away from home. Especially detectives like Kiel and Sam. Theirs would never be an easy nine-to-five job that they could leave on Fridays for a relaxing weekend. It was a stress-filled, dangerous occupation that they chose to pursue because they wanted to do good. They wanted to make a difference while they were on this earth.

In a way, it was very much the same reason why she had offered her services to the police. If for no other reason, she hoped that maybe she could make a difference.

The crying helped. Venting her sadness through tears was her escape valve, just short of screaming her head off. Frustration was debilitating. She was a survivor. This loneliness would never defeat her.
Take what you’ve been given and accept it. You were given more than you expected. Be content and keep going.

J washed her face and hair, then bathed. After drying off, she found the gauze in the first aid kit in the linen closet and wrapped her wound. She started to dress in an old cotton gown she loved when she hesitated. What if Kiel did come over? It was still possible, but would it be fair to her heart to build her hopes up?

Okay. Just in case he does come over, what should she wear? Should she have on something nice anyway? Just in case? Fingering the gown, she knew it was probably too old and ratty to be attractive. Did she have anything nicer?

Another flush colored her cheeks. Would it be too forward to meet him at the door wearing a nightgown? But if she put on another dress, would he think she wasn’t interested in a romantic liaison and hold back? What was it he had told her this morning?

Promise me that tonight you’ll wear something beautiful. I don’t care if it's that sexy little t-shirt and shorts you had on Monday night. Just as long as you don’t look like someone’s aging grandmother.

Pulling off the gown, she reached for the sleeveless t-shirt and running shorts she’d left hanging behind the bedroom door. With that problem now solved, J went back downstairs and into the parlor.

The Count of Monte Cristo
still lay on the seat where she’d left it. Miss Cassie never moved anything she found lying about. It was the first rule of the blind—leave it where the owner left it. J picked up the book and sat down, prepared to resume where she’d left off. Her concentration refused to cooperate.

She strained her ears, listening for a sound outside that would tell her he was at the door. He moved too quietly for her to catch, but she wanted to be prepared when the doorbell rang.

“Where are you, Kiel?” she whispered. The grandfather clock chimed the half hour. Nine-thirty. She rubbed her arms. Her body was cooling down; it felt chilly in the parlor. Getting up from the chair, she stretched out on the divan and covered herself with Grandmama’s throw. She debated whether to start a fire but decided she was too tired to clean out the old ashes.

Huddled beneath the afghan, she was asleep almost immediately.

* * * *

Once again the clock awoke her as it sounded the hour. This time she managed to catch the end of its song before it began chiming. Eleven o’clock. Her heart felt like it was shriveling inside her chest.

Kiel wasn’t coming

Nine thirty. Eleven. Finally two in the wee hours of the next day. How long was she going to keep hoping before she got the message that he wasn’t coming? Or that he couldn’t come. Ever again.

She curled up into a little ball on the divan. She hurt. No, not hurt. Someone was digging his hand inside her chest and squeezing. Squeezing out the blood and air she needed to survive. Squeezing her lungs empty, forcing her to gasp for every breath. Squeezing out the tears until she could no longer control them. Squeezing her heart until every movement was painful.

“Kiel.” It came out as a squeak. Her face contorted in grief as she struggled for breath. “Kiel. I only wanted to love you.” She could finally let it out, all the years of loneliness. Of a life stretched before her without the touch of a loved one or a lover. The fruitless wishes and dreams she had tried to deny herself because her grandmama needed her support and care. Then after the old woman had died, the months she had lain awake throughout the night listening to the sounds of the empty old house. Wondering why anyone would care to love her when there were so many beautiful women out there. Women who could see. Women who were independent.

She missed the doorbell ringing.

The grandfather clock ringing the quarter hour masked its intrusion. A minute passed. Then a voice in the foyer called out loudly, “J? J, it’s me.”

“K-Kiel?”

Before she could sit up he was kneeling in front of her, a huge flame of pure white less than a foot away. She stared, mesmerized by its brightness.

“J, what’s wrong? Are you still mad at me?” His voice was soft and clearly worried. “I’m sorry about this morning. I didn’t mean—”

She reached out to touch him. To feel how solid and real he was. To convince herself he had come as he’d promised. “Kiel?”

“It’s late. Did I wake you?”

She could feel his skin, his cheek. It was smooth.
Aren’t men supposed to have some kind of stubble this late at night?
A hand rested on her knee, sending little waves of excitement rushing through her body, teasing her nerves. “You came?” She managed to get the words out, but her voice caught on the second word. The hand left her knee to touch her chin.

“Have you been crying?” He sounded amused. Or surprised.

“I thought you weren’t coming. Or couldn’t come.”

“Didn’t I tell you I’d be here tonight?”

“Yes, but,” She took a breath and tried again. “I thought…”

The brightness stood and moved toward the fireplace. J remembered there was no light in the house. “Wait, wait. There’s no wood in the fireplace. I-I haven’t had the chance to clean it out and replace, uhh…” It was difficult to think as the burning glow in front of her seemed to wash away the last shreds of doubt. Kiel was here, filling her with more light than a hundred sunlit days.

“Is there a candle somewhere I can light?”

“There’s an oil lamp on the mantel.”

She heard the scrape when he lifted the glass flue, then replaced it. She tried to paste a smile on her face, but the dried tears made her skin feel tight and brittle. “Better?”

“I should have called to tell you I would be late,” Kiel apologized, “but Sam and I were following a lead.”

“A lead?”

“Yeah.”

He parked himself in front of her again, close enough for her to touch. His hands rested on the divan on either side of her thighs.

“There were other victims of the Shredder. And we know now who the Shredder is. His name—”

“Wait!” J lifted her hand and her fingers touched his jacket. She left it there. “Other victims?”

“Uh-huh.”

His hand went back to her knee. When he spoke again she could hear the sadness echoing all the way to his soul.

“Me. I remembered I was one of the Shredder’s victims.”

She lifted her other hand to touch his face again. She needed to run her fingertips over his face. All this time, and she had never reached out to see what he looked like. Never traced the planes and places that would give her a mental image of who he was. His skin felt cool when she cupped his cheeks.

“Did it frighten you?” They were whispering, as if they were trying not to be overheard.

“Yeah, but not in the way you may be thinking it did,” he admitted. “I wasn’t afraid to find out who had killed me.”

A thumb caressed the curve of her lower lip.

“For those first few moments, I was afraid that finding out would mean my end. The end of me. And I would disappear without…without having…”

Fingers trailed down the side of her neck, leaving a path of fire sizzling beneath her skin. The flame rose until it was right in front of her face. It drew closer. Brighter.

His mouth touched hers, took hers. Insistent, then demanding. She needed this. She needed him to wipe away her doubts and fears with his lips, and erase the last of her worries. Her hands rounded the back of his neck to press him closer. Thoughts of tracing his face fled her consciousness as she gave in to him. His arms wrapped around her to pull her off the divan and down into his lap, until her legs straddled him.

Gently, gently he kissed her. His jacket rubbed roughly against her breasts, but the pressure felt wonderful. It felt real. Her legs were spread-eagle past his hips, and suddenly she became aware of a hardness lying at the juncture of her thighs. J gasped and pulled back slightly.

“What?” he paused to ask her.

“Are we going to make love tonight?”

“I want to. I want to make love to you. All night, if I can. But, J, if you don’t want me to, just say so.”

His hands continued to touch her, massaging her back through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. The hard warmth between her legs grew bigger, if such a thing was possible.

“Kiel.” She tilted her face slightly to kiss his cheek, his eyelids, his temple.

“Yeah?” he murmured against her hair.

“All night?”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest. The vibration made her shiver in anticipation.

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t make any promises.”

He moved her hair away from where it brushed over her shoulders. He began to taste her, licking her lightly across skin that smelled of her honeysuckle soap. Slowly he lowered the strap of the sleeveless t-shirt.

She knew he could feel her heart beating furiously at the pulse points in her neck. Her hands remained behind his neck, holding on for dear life it seemed. Pressing her backwards until she was leaning against the side of the divan, Kiel lowered the other strap and pulled down the top until he exposed both of her breasts.

“Jesus, J, y-you’re perfect.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but when his mouth began to explore one blushing nipple, her words failed her. Resigned and feeling happier than she could ever remember being in her life, J allowed herself to bathe in his luminescence.

His tongue lapped and twirled around her nipple, now puckered and tight and exquisitely sensitive. When he took as much of her as he could into his mouth and began suckling, sheet lightning pierced her down into her womb, flooding her, preparing her. J cried out softly; her hands pressed his mouth harder against her. His other hand was playing with the other nipple, flicking it, playing with it, then pinching it. J squirmed. And with every movement that rock-hard part of him vibrated along her folds.

“You make me forget what I am,” he murmured in the valley between her breasts. “I touch you, and it’s like having this heater come on inside me. Is that love, J? Please tell me that’s love.”

“It has to be. I can’t feel anything but how right this is. Like it was meant to be. Like it was our destiny. Like it was…” His mouth was placing tiny kisses up her chest, aiming for her throat while leaving a path of fire in its wake. Every nerve under her skin seemed to be exploding simultaneously. Groaning softly, she wriggled again in his lap. The iron rod leaped. Now it was prodding her, demanding entrance despite the thin layers of fabric restraining it.

“Predestined?”

Faintly her mind registered his whisper. “Huh?” Dizzy, she started to lift her head from the divan when Kiel jerked the shirt up and off of her. A little gasp followed his motion. Instinctively she tried to cover herself with her hands when his own grabbed her wrists and carefully placed them on him.

Her fingers encountered skin, and the shock of it made her react. “Kiel? Where are your clothes?”

“Clothes are part of the illusion, J.” He made an exasperated sound.

“What?”

“Will you ever tell me what the J stands for?”

“It means ‘I love you’.” She smiled. His flesh was smooth. Hairless. All the way down to his belly. She felt him quivering beneath her touch. “What color is your hair?”

“For you? What’s yellow? A dark yellow?”

“Mums. The smell of fresh-picked mums.”

“I like that.”

His breath smelled of peppermint. She wondered how he was able to do that.

“What color are your eyes?”

“They’re like yours. Hazel.”

“What’s hazel? Is that a pretty color?”

“Pretty?” Another chuckle vibrated in his chest. “Girls used to tease me about my eyes and my long lashes. I can’t help it if I have long lashes. Hazel. Hmm. It’s like a combination of green and brown. Your eyes, though, they’re so beautiful. Round and expressive. Even though you can’t see with them, J, they’re like enormous windows. And they got this little brandy brown ring of color on the outer edges. I love your eyes, J. Hasn’t anyone ever told you the color of your eyes?”

“No,” she answered, before placing a kiss on one broad shoulder. He felt like a contradiction in terms: soft and hard, bendable but unmoving, tough and gentle, strong and weak. She lightly skimmed his bare back with her hands. He shivered again. “Cold?”

“No. Never again. Every time you touch me I heat up. I’ve never felt like this with another woman. Never. That’s why I’m so confused,” he confessed. He pressed his nose into the hollow of her throat and clutched her tightly against him. “Do I love you because of what I’ve become? Or because of what you do to me? Or am I finally able to feel this way because I’m dead?”

“Hush.” Raising his face, she kissed him. Only this time she let the tip of her tongue gently probe between his lips. Hungrily he opened up to her, and she replied in kind.

If she had felt engulfed by his desire before, this new exploration went from tidal waves to drowning. His tongue was ravenous as he returned the gesture. One large, calloused hand held her head firmly as his mouth consumed her, tasting the moistness behind her lips, feeling to the depths of her throat.

An unconscious jerk of her hips, and suddenly his other hand was dipping inside the elastic waistband of her nylon shorts. Fingers teased the tight, silky curls until one slid between her wet folds and started stroking, stroking, stroking.

His tongue plunged into her mouth repeatedly, dancing with her own. His finger mimicked the movement, arousing her at both ends while the fires he had ignited in her sizzled. J lost all thought and all control as the passion slowly wove its way downward. Downward, to meet the other half of her pleasure spiraling upward. She whimpered into his mouth as he continued to take her with his mouth and hand. Her hips bucked, riding against his hand and the fingers that were slipping into her.

It felt so good. Too good. He had to keep doing this to her. All night. Never stopping. Never—

Kiel suddenly jerked away, lifting his mouth without warning. The hand inside her shorts was withdrawn with a snap of the elastic. The unexpected loss made her moan. “Why did you stop?” She could feel him shaking, and for the briefest second she thought he was reconsidering. “Kiel?” she asked again, close to tears.

“You…J, you’re a virgin?”

“Uh-huh. So?”

“I mean…”

“What’s wrong?” Her body was protesting. She had been so close to the most perfect rapture. So close. Now it was dissipating like smoke, leaving her chilled and empty. “You don’t want me anymore?”

“Oh, God, no. No, that’s not it, J. I’m aching for you, can’t you tell?”

He took one of her hands and moved it between them until she could grasp that hard, hot length that had been seeking entrance between her thighs. The touch of it, the softest of skin over iron, shocked her.

“I want you to love me,” she begged in the barest of whispers.

“Are you sure? I want you to be absolutely positive, J, because if I do, there’ll be no going back.”

His lips tickled her ear. His breath sounded strained, ragged. He was struggling with something, she could tell, and it puzzled her.

“I want you to love me.” She hoped it sounded more forceful. “Make love to me, Kiel.”

He groaned loudly and wrapped both arms around her. The feel of her breasts brushing his chest was like water meeting an electrical current. J cried out at the touch, unaware of being lifted and laid across the long divan. Hands tugged off the shorts, leaving her totally naked.