Misunderstood Miracles

by Norma Jeanne Karlsson

  “Okay, I’ll give you that. But you should be some hairy hippie sellin’ holistic deodorant on from a roadside stand.”

  “I did that one summer,” I joke. “They’re good people. Maybe the best fuckin’ people. They love me. Yes, their love is strange, but it was good. I never wanted for anything…other than a cheeseburger. I had my white picket fence childhood. It was just booby-trapped and filled with naked rain dances.”

  “I think they’re pretty fuckin’ awesome. And so are you. So I take back my question.”

  Just as she finishes, a very loud moan comes through the walls.

  We both tumble into fits of laughter so deeply that our sides hurt and our faces cramp.

  Welcome home.

  “I’m gonna kill Chann with my bare hands,” Alannah growls from the bathroom attached to my bedroom.

  The room is cozy, mostly due to the king size bed taking up the majority of the space. There are bookshelves hanging on the walls full of books I filled my days with as a kid. There’s space for one dresser and one bedside table, and that’s it. All of my furniture is black, just like in Kansas City. I’ve always liked a dark space.

  Sorcha says it’s me trying to connect with the womb.

  “Why?” I shout.

  “I need a T-shirt, Kane. Hand me one of yours.”

  That has my interest piqued.

  “What’s wrong with your moo moo?” I tease.

  “Oh, this is some moo moo,” she drones sarcastically. “Just give me a T-shirt. I’m tired, and I’m not in the mood for your friend’s joke.”

  I’m too curious to give in.

  “Prove to me that what you’re wearing is that awful and I’ll give you a T-shirt.”

  “Fine. You probably planned this shit anyway,” she huffs. Then she’s silent for a while. Just as I getting ready to demand she open the door, she announces, “Prepare to be disappointed.”

  The door swings open, banging into the bed because it can’t clear the edge as Alannah fills the doorway wearing…lingerie.

  Fuck me.

  At first glance, she looks like she’s in a short nightie. On further inspection, the black material is completely see-through. Her nipples are peeking at me, and her pussy is covered in a scrap of a matching thong.

  “Give me one of your T-shirts, Kane,” she grumbles, holding her hand out impatiently. “You can’t expect me to fall for this shit.”

  I grab her hand and yank her to me before planting her on her back in the middle of my bed. That’s better.

  Her scowl is gone, and heat is rising in her cheeks. Alannah’s light blond hair is cascading around her as I sit up on my knees to enjoy every inch of her. She tries to cover her tits, but I push her hands away as my gaze sweeps her from head to toe and then back again.

  Her electric blue eyes are heavy-lidded.

  Her crimson lips are slightly parted as she pulls in shallow breaths.

  Her cheeks are flushed a rosy color that stretches all the way down her neck to her chest.

  Her pink nipples are at stiff peaks, straining beneath the thin fabric.

  Her soft stomach is quivering with desire.

  Her round hips are tipped up, waiting for me to make my move.

  Her legs are parted, bent at the knees, displaying her damp thong.

  Her musky scent is swirling around my nose as I lose all fucking control.

  Alannah deserves tender and adoring. She’s going to get intense and primal.

  I reach down and shred the thong from her body, instantly burying my face in her bare pussy. She lets out a feral scream as I trap her hips against the mattress to hold her in place with one arm. I spear my tongue inside her relentlessly, lapping all of her juices before causing more to trickle out.

  Her tiny hands urge me on, yanking on my hair fiercely. I suck her clit between my lips before nipping slightly. She groans at that and rocks against my face. My cock is straining painfully against the mattress, begging to get inside her.

  I give my fingers a chance instead. I drive one finger in as I flatten my tongue against her clit, slowing my strokes. She’s mewling and thrashing as I work her into a frenzy. Just as she’s about to come, I stop.

  “Kane!” she shouts, looking down at me with pleading, lust-filled eyes.

  “You’re gonna come on my cock. Not my face,” I growl, crawling up her body as I push my boxer briefs off.

  I palm my dick, pull my foreskin back and slam into her. She’s like a vice grip around my dick and with a slight grimace on her face, I know I went too hard. I force my hips to remain still as I tip my head down and kiss her lips tenderly.

  “Sorry,” I murmur against her mouth.

  Alannah’s hands circle my shoulders as she works her tongue in tandem with mine. Slow, languid strokes grow with intensity. My hands move from where I’ve been cupping her soft cheeks to the flimsy fabric covering her body. I grasp it between my fingers and shred it away from her. She gasps before she moans as I plump her tits and tweak her nipples.

  She tilts her hips slightly, showing me she’s ready, but I wait. I don’t want to hurt her. I want to enjoy her, please her. I trail my mouth down her neck before devouring one nipple. Her pussy contracts around my dick, begging me to move.

  “Please,” she pleads, running her fingers along my jaw.

  I thread my fingers through hers and press her hands to the mattress next to her head as my lips come back to hers. I drink from her, tasting her sweet, minty mouth. I kiss her like it’s the last time and the first time combined, with passion and reverence. I’ll never get enough of her.

  Sorcha believes there’s only one match to our soul in the world, with only a lucky few finding that person. We make do because the world is a large place to find its other half in. People make it work in their relationships, but rarely find the person they’re truly intended to be with.

  I’ve found mine. No question. It doesn’t matter that it’s been a day. A handful of hours. Alannah Carey is the match to my soul. I’m one of the lucky few.

  Alannah squeezes my fingers as she wraps her legs around my hips, shoving my dick deeper into her slick pussy. I slide in and out with shallow thrusts at first, testing her. As I swallow throaty moans, I know she’s ready for what I’m about to give her.

  I keep our fingers intertwined as I plow into her, my mouth never leaving hers. Alannah’s panting labored breaths through her nose, but I don’t pull away to allow her to recover. I want her struggling, smothered by me. I want her to feel as though she’s drowning in me at the same time I’m breathing life back into her.

  As her legs begin to tremble, I thrust into her harder. Her body is slick with sweat, making my room smell like sex and citrus perfume. It’s intoxicating as I begin to draw heavy breaths through my nose, drowning in her just as she is in me.

  Alannah screams her orgasm into my mouth as her body quakes from head to toe, her pussy clamping down with force. Fuck that feels good. I release her mouth to give us each a break as I continue to rock into her. I’m not ready to be done. I don’t know if I ever will be.

  I still have her hands trapped by mine. I’ve never fucked like this. It’s personal and emotional. I feel it in my blood and not just my cock. This isn’t fucking. I don’t know how to describe it, but it feels like my first time. As though I’m losing a different kind of virginity.

  I feast on her neck where I’ve marked her, darkening the spot for the world to see. Even though we’re hiding, and no one will ever see it that needs to know she’s mine, I still desperately need to brand her.

  “Kane,” she whispers wantonly.

  I bring my face back to rest my forehead against hers. The soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table illuminating her shimmering electric blue eyes.

  “Tell me what you need,” I say quietly, slowing my hips to a tortured pace.

  “I told you already. I need you.”

  There’s love in her voice and adoration in her eyes.

  “You’ve got me, Alanna
h.”

  Our gazes stay locked as I move into her powerfully, grinding against her clit. I can’t bring myself to release her hands. The intimacy of the moment is too much to abandon.

  Her eyes roll back in her head as she comes more forcefully than before, cussing and chanting my name. Fuck that’s hot.

  My pace hits a fevered level as my orgasm builds in my spine. I hold her eyes with mine, needing her to see what she does to me. Slamming into her, I explode, coming hard and roaring like a savage animal. Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears as I slow my strokes, sliding my come in and out of her. Primal shit is running through my mind as I watch her. I’ve marked her. I’ve claimed her. She’s mine.

  “I—”

  I cut her off as I take her mouth in a possessive kiss when I hear an explosion in the distance. I launch to my feet and drag my jeans on, ordering, “Get dressed.”

  Alannah scrambles off the bed and races into the bathroom as Bert throws my bedroom door open, Sorcha hot on his heels. They’re a mess of tangled hair and sweaty brows. I ignore that, loading myself down with two MP5s, two 1911s and two hunting blades.

  Another explosion goes off closer to the house as Alannah bangs out of the bathroom.

  “Come with me,” Sorcha says calmly, extending her hand to my woman.

  My woman.

  Fuck me, I just got done making her my woman, and now explosions are going off.

  Alannah hesitates, waiting for me to give her some guidance. I tag the back of her head and press a firm kiss to her lips before ordering, “Go with Sorcha and do not, under any circumstances, come out of the bunker unless I tell you to.”

  “Be careful,” she pleads as Sorcha pulls her away.

  “They’re movin’ quick,” Bert notes as another explosion erupts to the west of the house.

  “At least two teams,” I add, based on the placement of the blasts.

  He nods, checking his guns before indicating with his chin that he’s ready to move out. It’s snowing lightly as we emerge onto the porch, trees glowing orange and red in the distance. Bert heads to the west as I go north. I don’t like splitting up, but we need to cover a lot of area between the two of us.

  I move over the ground effortlessly with my bare feet. The branch and leaf-covered forest floor is slick in boots. My feet allow me better grip and sense memory as I move through the heavy black smoke.

  There’s an eerie silence as I approach the first detonated booby-trap. I find no men as I move around the area, so I head in the direction of the next one. Gunfire erupts near where Bert should be, and it takes everything in me not to run toward him. I have to cover this booby-trap first. I’ll clear it and then go to him.

  I pick up my jog, scanning the area as best I can with limited visibility. My eyes and lungs are burning, but whatever Sorcha gave me has worked because my head is clear.

  The gunfire picks up in the distance as I arrive at the next site. Nobody’s here. Fuck! I haul ass toward Bert, feeling dread creep up my spine as I hear men screaming.

  Then I’m hit with a sound my ears will never forget. The ear-piercing wail of Alannah.

  I spin on my heel and fly toward the bunker that’s nestled behind the house. I drop the two men standing around the opening in the ground before they hear me coming. I throw my body down the hole, neglecting to use the ladder and find myself not falling through the rabbit hole, but into a nightmare.

  Two men in suits have guns aimed at Sorcha and Alannah as the third seems to be waiting for me.

  “You’re a difficult man to find,” the fuckwad says in a slimy voice.

  “What the fuck do you want?” I snarl.

  I can’t see Alannah’s face, but catch a glimpse of Sorcha’s. She’s peaceful, resigned. Fuck that. She’s not dying tonight. I don’t have a good angle on the guy holding her hostage, but I have a clear shot at the fucker on Alannah. I’ll save them.

  “You. We’ve been looking for you for quite some time.”

  “Let them go,” I grind out.

  “That’s not going to happen. Say your goodbyes because soon you won’t remember they ever existed.”

  “Fuck you!” I roar and shoot him in the face at the same time I fire at the man threatening Alannah. I’m too slow to get the guy on Sorcha. He shoots her at the same time I get him in the back of the head.

  Alannah dives on top of Sorcha’s body, smashing her hands onto the wound in her chest. Instantly in doctor mode as my mind shuts down.

  My mother.

  I’ve killed her.

  My vision blurs with tears as blood rushes past my ears with force, deafening me. I brought this shit to her doorstep. I selfishly ran here of all places. How could I be so thoughtless? After everything she’s done for me? Help her. Whoever the fuck she believes in! Save her!

  “Kane!” Alannah screaming my name brings me back to the bunker.

  I drop to my knees and lean over Sorcha’s pale body.

  “I’ll be back, Kane. You look for me in the sunrise and listen for me in the wind. I’ll be with you. I love you, my son,” she gasps out as blood fills her mouth.

  “I love you too, Mom,” I sob before chanting the words she’s always said over me. “Tashanu Nokrelah Grulmah.” Safety. Love. Peace.

  I say it over and over until she gurgles one last time and all the life seeps from her emerald eyes, stripping my soul from my body.

  “FUCK!” rips from my throat as I climb to my feet and attack the nearest body with my fists. When he’s unrecognizable, I attack the next. I’m aware of Alannah pleading with me to stop, but I can’t.

  “No!” Alannah’s shrill screech breaks through my fury as a hand covered in a rag slams over my nose and mouth. I struggle against it, locking eyes with the terrified blues of Alannah. Her pain is the last thing I see before my world goes black. And in that moment, I pray to every god Sorcha ever told me about, that I don’t come back into the light again.

  I wake up to delicate fingers tracing the ridges and planes of my torso. Thank fuck, it was just a nightmare. I crack my eyes open, ready to be met with the heat-filled gaze of Alannah’s electric blues.

  Instead, I find the brown, curious eyes of a stranger. An older woman with grey hair swept into a bun on top of her head, her body covered in a lab coat. A hospital. I’m in a hospital. I search around the room for Alannah or Bert, but I find the room empty.

  There are no chairs for visitors. There are no windows to let me know the time of day. It’s just me in a bed with the woman who’s watching me in silence.

  “Where am I?” I croak.

  “I’m Doctor Slone. You were in an accident. You’re safe now,” she says kindly though completely fake.

  “What hospital am I in?” I ask, playing along with her bullshit.

  “You’re in a special facility called Canyon Nine. How are you feeling? Any headaches or disorientation?” As she asks, she checks my eyes with a pen light just as Alannah did a few days ago. The memory steals my breath for a moment, but I cover it well when the doctor pauses to assess my reaction.

  “My head hurts a bit,” I lie. “What happened to me? Why am I here instead of a hospital?”

  “Can you tell me what you remember before your accident? Where you were? Who you were with?”

  She’s digging to see how much I know. There’s a sore spot in the roof of my mouth. Running my tongue over it, I feel a tiny hole from an injection. She’s given me something, and she’s trying to see if it worked. I know it hasn’t. If you use a tiny needle inside my mouth, you can penetrate minutely, but whatever is injected won’t work. I know. I’ve tried.

  “I’m pretty hazy to be honest,” I grumble, sitting up in the bed, noting I’m naked other than the white sheet covering me.

  Her brown eyes scrutinize me for a long while as I shut my eyes and rub the bridge of my nose to add to the lie. I’m good at manipulation. I’ve spent years using everything I’ve got to trick people before I kill them. This is no different.

  I’m flying b
lind here though. I don’t know where I am. Who has me. Or if Alannah and Bert survived. I try to focus on their faces in my mind, and I steel myself for whatever is coming.

  “You were in a car accident three days ago. Men had you bound and gagged in the back of a vehicle that crashed near Chicago. You’re the only survivor. A miracle,” she explains almost happily.

  Now I’m becoming confused. Was I in a crash? There’s no way. I’d remember that happening. My head feels fine. I remember a fucking building collapsing on me. Surely, I’d remember an accident.

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, but there were two other people with you who had been captured. A woman and a man. We don’t have many details about them at this time. Their bodies haven’t been identified yet.” She clears her throat before asking, “Do you remember who they might be?”

  My mind is reeling with the onslaught of information flying at me. Alannah and Bert are dead. A man and a woman. My father and my woman. I feel sick. Devastated.

  Beyond my emotions, one thing is clear to me; she wants to see if my memory is intact. The throat clearing was a dead giveaway.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say, waving my hands a bit. “You're tellin’ me I was taken, bound and gagged in a vehicle and ended up here as the only survivor of a crash? How is that possible? Who took me? Who died?”

  I'm certain all of these questions are pointless, but I have to act like a scared, confused person right now.

  “We don’t know much about them. They were possibly involved with organized crime in Kansas City. Were you involved with anything like that?”

  Oh yeah. She’s done something to try to wipe my memory and she's only answering the questions she deems important. On top of that she’s digging carefully, but she’s digging. What the fuck did she give me? It obviously didn’t work. There was no crash. Alannah and Bert are surely dead, but not from a car accident. I push the pain of the loss to the back of my mind as I prepare myself to avenge them.

  That’s the only thing moving me forward right now. Rage flows through my veins as I consider how good it will feel to kill every person responsible for this. I let it fuel me, to inspire me as I plot.