“That if I don’t get it right this time, I’m out.” Xander’s mouth was set in a grim line.
“I wish I could help you on your path, friend,” Alaric clapped a meaty palm on his shoulder. “I’d hate to see you go – you’ve been here longer than anyone I know. But you surely have earned your ticket out of here.”
Xander shrugged. “Apparently not. Lilith remains steadfastly opposed to me.”
Alaric gave a dry chuckle. “She’s a tough nut to crack – and if she’s busting your balls, you can be certain it’s because she can see what you do not, and she’s frustrated that you still don’t get the full picture when it’s so clear to her.”
“Maybe it’s not so clear,” Xander muttered darkly. “I’ve done everything I’ve been instructed. It’s been over two thousand years since anyone saw me as a nightmare. I’ve crooned and courted and left pleasure in my wake. There are things I can do for a woman that most of the idiots here have yet to discover. The souls who I’ve tended have yearned for me, gone mad for me. What more do they want?”
“A touch of humility might ice the cake,” Alaric replied, raising a brow.
“I am Anaxandridas, king of Sparta! I have done their bidding for an eternity. If they expect me to grovel too, they may as well book my spot in Hell right now.” Xander had learned to school his temper, but now it flared. Alaric glanced around before steadying his friend with that hand on his shoulder again.
“Xander, I can’t learn this lesson for you, but I think you may need to take some time for a little soul-searching, if you’ll pardon the pun. Salazar is clearly in your corner, and I imagine that he’s holding firm in his conviction that you can do the right thing here. Still, even he will have to bow to the higher powers if you resist.”
Xander tossed his head and made a sound of disgust, but deep down, even the part of himself that clung steadfastly to his irrepressible pride was starting to believe that his friend might be right.
Chapter Five
Rebecca leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms out over her head. It had been a long day.
“Lord, I thought it would never end!” chimed Rosie from the cubicle adjoining hers.
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” she agreed.
“How unhygienic,” Rosie quipped, popping her head over the partition separating their desks. Becky rolled her eyes before grinning. Jeff had pushed for open-plan offices months ago, but the honchos upstairs hadn’t gone for it yet. Sometimes Becky enjoyed the privacy, but Rosie was born to socialize. “How ‘bout a quick one at The Fog?” The little pub adjoining the agency’s offices was a staff favorite.
“Not tonight, Rose,” she smiled to soften the rejection, “I’m totally bushed! That last strat session really took it out of me.” To be frank, she’d been strangely exhausted since her dream ‘episode’ the week before. Each night she’d slept fitfully, convinced someone was watching her. It should have been unsettling, but for some reason, there was something comforting about it – a sense of familiarity that made her feel cocooned. She found herself wanting to extend the sensation. “I think I’m going to head home and catch an early night. You need me on form for the presentation tomorrow!”
“Yeah, sure,” Rose reluctantly agreed. Possessed of boundless energy, she’d been known to crack a bottle of vodka, grab two hours of sleep and still power through the next day. Becky was strictly an eight-hours-a-night girl. “But you’re not getting out of it tomorrow night, right? We’re going to ace that pitch, Jeff’s going to give us both a billion-dollar raise and Stella’s going to pee her pants. We’ll have cause to celebrate.”
Becky chuckled, reaching for her briefcase. “Absolutely, hun! I won’t let you down.”
“You never do, babe, not where it matters. Catch you in the morning,” Rosie blew her a kiss before ducking back into her cubicle. Becky heard the rustle of paper and clatter of keys as her friend gathered her belongings and headed out – no doubt, to find another victim to drag to the watering hole. She slung her bag over her shoulder and swept up a sheaf of papers dotted with pawprints and furry feline faces. The local kitty shelter had asked her to spread the word about a new litter and she planned to drop off posters at the local vet on the way home.
Although barely 6pm, the sun had set as she left the building. The air had begun to chill as the seasons changed. Becky pulled her jacket closer as she headed to her car. Most of the team had already left for the day – and the lot was almost empty. An icy breeze snatched up fallen leaves and skittered them across the asphalt. She shivered, reminding herself to pack her gloves as she reached into her bag for her keys. ‘The Pit of Hell’, Ryan had called it, joking that things probably lived in its depths. She frowned as she fumbled through its contents, searching for the familiar metallic feel. A branch scraped across an office window, creating an otherworldly screech that had her jumping. She glanced around her nervously, embarrassed to call out to see if anyone was there, yet unable to shake the sense of being watched. The cold breeze that swirled through the leaves seemed to spiral up around her, brushing past her cheek like an icy breath.
“For god’s sake, calm down!” she chastised herself, giving a sigh of relief as her fingers connected with her keys. She turned to her car, searching for the handle.
“Rebecca.” The voice, barely a whisper, came from nowhere. She gasped and dropped her keys, spinning around to find its source.
“Who’s there? Is someone there??” she demanded.
“Hiya, Becks!” called out Bernie, the company doorman cum security guard. “Everything ok out there?” Becky stared at him. Not a chance his was the voice she’d heard, he was too far away.
“All good, Bernie,” she replied. “Just dropped my keys.”
“That’s a nuisance,” he commiserated, ambling over with his torch to help her search. “Getting dark out early now. Winter’s on its way.”
“It certainly is, Bernie,” she smiled, fishing her keys out from under her car. “Thanks a million, I’ll be fine from here.”
“Alright, darlin’, have a good evening,” he waved as he headed back to the building.
“You too, Bernie. Take care.” She opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat, shaking her head. ‘Pull yourself together, Rebecca!’ she muttered to herself as she eased the vehicle out of the lot.
***
“So, are you gonna do her, mate?” asked the cocky kid who’d recently joined their ranks. Xander stalked away from him and cursed the powers that gave them all the ability to spy on the lives of mortals. He loved that he could see her anytime he chose, but hated the fact that every other demon spirit could too. “Coz, if you’re not, I’ll take her,” the kid taunted. “Nice little piece of ass like that…I bet she could be my salvation before she’s yours.”
Xander stopped in his tracks and spun on his heel, facing the little shit.
A ‘little shit’ who happened to be 6’3” of muscled bad-boy biker.
“Woah, big guy!” Alaric stepped between the pair before turning to face the youngster. “Shut the fuck up, Axel,” he warned. “You’re so far from salvation, it’ll take a thousand pristine virgins to get you right.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Axel sneered. “I’m in no hurry. Anyhow, I’m not afraid of hell – maybe I should have some fun with her and those virgins before I head down to join Satan for some real partying.” He flicked his tongue out lewdly and palmed his denim-clad groin. Xander clenched his fists and took another step forward. A futile gesture since brawling held little sway in the spirit world. They may all recognize each other as individuals, but none of them had any real connection to their human forms. Nor did the halls surrounding them exist anywhere other than in their imaginations. But fuck, just imagining driving a fist into that smug face would feel good, Xander thought to himself.
“You’re a dick, Axel,” said Alaric. The kid had arrived 50 years ago after a botched drug deal went south – frankly, his life of gun-running and smuggling
could have snuffed out his flame any number of times. “God, I hate newbies,” his friend muttered. “I’m sure he has some redeeming feature, or he wouldn’t be here, but he’s still so full of shit.”
Temper waning, Xander turned and stalked off.
“He has a point though, friend,” Alaric continued, falling into step beside him. “It’s been over a week since your visit. You know these things require momentum.”
Xander nodded. “I know. I’m just concerned that…” He paused. Alaric watched him expectantly. “It took so much from her and I’m afraid it’s going to be too much,” he admitted. “She seems…frail. None of the others were so affected. Perhaps she’s too weak.”
“Or maybe she’s more susceptible to you because this is the right fit,” Alaric countered.
“What if she can’t take it? What if it destroys her?”
Alaric shrugged. “Unfortunately, that’s the chance we take, my friend. It’s how we exist. We bring them indescribable pleasure, and in exchange, we take their life force. You know how to control that by now – you don’t have to let it go too far.” Xander nodded, suppressing a shudder as he remembered his first clumsy attempts. The thrill he’d had when he’d seen how easily he could turn women into quivering wrecks … and the horror when he’d watched the life drain from them.
His first had been the worst. It had only taken one visit. One moment he’d been holding a moaning woman, his own pleasure mounting…the next, he’d been overwhelmed by a blinding flash of light – as if a jolt of electricity had surged through him. When he looked down, she had withered to a dried husk, the light in her eyes fading as she gasped her last breath. The fact that her energy had sustained him for decades only worsened his guilt. He still didn’t understand how those fumbling efforts hadn’t damned his soul immediately. Alaric was convinced that it was because their women had already earned their place in heaven.
‘I can restrain myself,’ he reminded himself. ‘There’s no need to take more than I have to. It may exhaust her, but at least she’ll be sated.’ The idea didn’t sit well with him now, however.
‘I can give back,’ he thought, ‘feed her with my own energy. The connection is strong enough. I can feel it.’
“You know that will probably end you, right?” Alaric intruded into his reverie. “You’re not a limitless pool of energy, Spartan. If you don’t feed from her, if you pour yourself back, there’ll be nothing left to sustain you. You’ll cease to exist.”
“How do I maintain the balancing act if I don’t?” he turned to the big man, his face a mask of uncertainty. “She’s my last chance, but if I keep draining her, this will end soon. There isn’t some ‘magic’ combination to keep us both in existence forever, and the Council isn’t going to cut me any slack here. What if I take her over the edge with me?”
“I can’t answer that, my friend, this is your journey,” Alaric smiled to take the harshness off his words.
Xander ran a hand through his hair in frustration, then turned to watch the woman again. There was something about Rebecca that drew him – like a moth to a flame. Because somehow, he sensed that ultimately, she’d be the end of him. Yet even now, he couldn’t stop himself from watching over her simplest activities. He stopped and focused on the scene of Rebecca walking into a small veterinary clinic, heart clenching at the air of gentleness she exuded.
***
“Hey, Becky,” a cheerful woman greeted her. “What you got for us today?”
“Hiya, Joan. Just dropping off these,” Becky replied, holding out a stack of papers. “More posters for the Kitty House.”
“Oh, lordy!” exclaimed Joan. “Have you ever seen such a group of gorgeous fuzzies? Look at this little guy – he has blue eyes!” Becky grinned in response, nodding. “Don’t you ever get tempted to keep one for yourself?” Joan asked.
“For sure!” said Becky. “But my landlord doesn’t allow pets. Ryan and I were going to get a pair of kittens when we moved into our new place, but …” Her voice trailed off.
Joan’s face softened with concern. She reached out and squeezed Becky’s hand wordlessly. “I’ll be sure to share them around, sweetie. They’re so adorable, they’ll be snapped up in no time.”
Becky nodded and smiled slightly. “I’ll be off then. See you soon.”
“So lovely,” a voice murmured as she shut the door behind her.
“Thank you,” Becky replied, her smile broadening. Then stopped and frowned. The voice hadn’t belonged to Joan, yet she’d answered instinctively, as if responding to someone familiar. “Hello?” she called out. “Are you there?”
Her words were greeted with silence.
Chapter Six
Xander watched as she left the building, got back in her car and rested her head in her hands for a moment before making her way home. Her apartment on the third floor of a tidy little block was a quaint two-bedroom unit overlooking a park. She swung open the door and entered the dark hallway, slinging her bag over the back of a chair near the entrance.
‘So empty,’ he thought as she flicked on the light and headed for the kitchen, setting the kettle to boil. She rubbed the back of her neck as she headed to the living room, where she switched on a lamp and picked up the remote control of a flatscreen TV on the back wall. Flicking through channels, she selected a home improvement show and headed back to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Inane chatter filled the room as the characters on the show bantered with each other.
‘She fills the space with sound,’ he mused, not for the first time since he’d been watching over her. The sense of melancholy was overwhelming – he wanted to shake it off of her, but that was beyond his abilities. Until she slept, all he could do was observe. A sense of powerlessness surged within him and he clenched his fists, groaning. Becky stopped and looked around. There was no way she could see him, he was sure. Yet she seemed aware of a presence.
“Hello?” Her voice faltered. Then she shook her head. “Don’t be daft, Becky, there’s nobody here.” Mug in hand, she headed for the bedroom, kicking off her shoes and shrugging out of her jacket.
“God, what a day,” she sighed, rubbing her neck again. Behind her, Xander inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent of her, then breathed out. The tiny hairs at the nape of her neck fluttered, and she shivered, frowning as she looked back over her shoulder. He froze, for an instant, it seemed as if she was looking right at him, then the moment passed.
“What I need now is a hot bath,” she muttered to herself, setting her cup down and turning towards the bathroom door. Minutes later, the sound of running water joined the chatter of the television. Sweet-scented steam wafted through the room.
‘Roses,’ he smiled. He’d always had a weakness for the fragrance of those flowers. Warmed by the tea, her mood lightened by the prospect of some relaxation, Becky began to hum to herself as she walked into the bathroom. He watched as she peeled off her blouse and unzipped her skirt, stepping out of it as it dropped down her legs and pooled at her feet. If Xander had breath in him, he would have held it as he watched her generous breasts swing free of the confinement. He’d always loved curves – an anomaly in his society of hard men and women. His long-dead wife had been an athlete, honed and muscular, while Becky was soft, rounded.
‘Your hair’s going to get wet,’ he thought, watching her head to the tub.
As if hearing his words, she threaded her fingers into her hair and pulled it back from her face, reaching her arms overhead and twisting the thick curls into a knot at the top of her head. She dipped a toe into the water and sighed, climbing in and easing herself down under the bubbles. His lips curved into a smile at the sight, happy to see her content. Dropping onto his haunches beside the tub, he rested his chin on his hands and gazed at her. Eyes shut, lashes dark against her cheeks, she reminded him again of an angel.
‘My angel,’ he mused, listening to her breathing deepen, become more regular as she drifted away from the day’s challenges. He raised a hand and brushed his knuckle down
her cheek, feeling the warm, downiness of her skin.
‘You’re flawless,’ he breathed, watching her lips part slightly. He traced her bottom lip, feeling the moisture there. He raised his fingertip back to his mouth, tasting her. He’d never visited a woman who wasn’t deeply asleep before, and he wasn’t sure how his presence would be felt now, yet he was compelled to continue. She sighed and shifted, the water lapping up over the mounds of her breasts. He stroked the line, her skin slick from the soapy bubbles. A shiver of tiny goosebumps rose on her flesh. She moved her hand beneath the water and cupped one of her breasts, pinching a nipple slightly. He was mesmerized. Usually, his subjects were entirely at his mercy when he visited. Some were even struck motionless. He’d never seen a woman touching herself. It was intoxicating, and he felt himself getting harder.
Her other hand dipped under the water and trailed down her torso. His breath caught as he imagined the destination of her soapy fingers. He lowered his own hand into the water to cover hers, twining his fingers through hers, felt her seeking out the hard nub of her clitoris. At her sharp intake of breath, he turned to watch her face. Eyes still shut, mouth dropping open, she flicked her tongue out over her bottom lip. Her channel was already slick, and their fingers moved smoothly between her folds. She raised her knees and arched her back, breasts cresting the water. Her free hand still cupped and kneaded one mound almost roughly, leaving pink marks on her skin.
“Oh! God!” she gasped, pumping her hips up. The water made her buoyant and she lifted easily, her heels planted on the floor of the tub. Her head dropped back over the edge of the bath, water splashing out as she writhed in the warmth. He worked their fingers deeper, thrusting into her clutching pussy and rubbing harder against the little bundle of nerve-endings that perched at its entrance. The bubbles had almost dissipated, and he could see her body twisting beneath the water, stomach muscles clenching, thighs spreading and then clenching around their hands.
Saved By Her (Soul Searchers Book 1) Page 5