by M. Cheykota
“I think this is Heaven.” I whisper to myself.
When did he have time to shop for all this stuff?
I grab a pair of Seven jeans and a silk button up dress shirt. Cotton socks and Nike shoes complete my outfit. When I return to the bedroom to get dressed, I see that someone has rolled a cart into the room and placed it in front of the couch.
I didn’t even hear anyone come in.
I walk to the couch. My stomach rumbles with hunger as I remove the chrome dome from the serving platter. The spread is fantastic. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, fruit of all kinds, toast and muffins cover the platter. I remove the chrome dome from another platter and find it stacked with blood on a plate warmer. I satisfy my hunger first. I eat most of the food on the tray to replenish my body’s fuel and finish off five bags of blood. I brush my teeth and return to the bedroom. I think about my mother’s visit last night and all the shape shifting I had done. Initially, I was a little nervous shifting my shape. Worried something would go wrong, I never gave myself a chance to enjoy or experiment with my new forms. I lock the bedroom door and change shape into a Labrador.
Even though my white fur is too bright for a Labrador, it strangely suits me.
I trot in circles in front of the mirror admiring my new form.
I change shape back to human form and then change into a seagull. My mother tells me that I should be able to switch from animal to animal without switching back to human form, but I do not feel confident in my shape shifting abilities yet to try. As a bird, I hop around the room, flapping my wings up and down trying to fly. We tried last night but I couldn’t get the hang of it. Being a bird is not as easy as it sounds. I keep flapping my wings, occasionally lifting off the ground but not getting much flight. Flap, flap, flap, flap. The sound of my wings flapping fills the room. When I finally do get air under my wings, my landings are not desirable. After landing on my head so much, I am surprised I am not brain damaged by now. I am not sure how long I have been trying to fly around, but on one of my landings, I hear someone coming up the stairs. I quickly change shape, look around the room, and see white feathers everywhere. I sprint around the room using vampire speed, picking feathers up. When the bedroom door opens, Christien and Roman are standing in the doorway staring at me.
I freeze. I have feathers all over my clothes and in my hair. Both of my hands are clenched, full of feathers. I look around and see that there are still white feathers scattered across the room and floating in the air. It looks like I had a pillow fight and the pillow had a hole in it. I look at the men in the doorway. Both have a look of shock and confusion on their faces when they slowly enter the room, shutting the door behind them. They take in the mess and look up at me. Guilt floods my conscious and my face flushes in embarrassment. Roman is first to break the silence.
“Uh, Jess? Why is everything covered in feathers?” He asks suspiciously.
I cover my face with my hands. Realizing they are full of feathers, I walk over calmly to the wastebasket and discard the feathers into it. I move swiftly around the room, pick up the rest of the feathers, and toss them into the wastebasket.
Christien and Roman watch me as I clear away the feathers. Neither of them repeats the question I did not answer. For that, I am glad. I am still not exactly sure how to tell them about my new ability.
When I am done, I sit down on the end of the bed, wrapping my left arm around the post. They are both still staring at me when Christien moves and sits next to me.
I let him rub my back in soothing circles and cheerfully ask, “How was your day? Any luck finding Hassan?”
Both men look at me as if I am a complete stranger.
They look at each other then Christien asks me the question I am sure is on both of their minds. “You are not angry that we left you behind?”
I kiss his cheek, hoping they forget about the feathers. “I was mad at first, but after seeing that magnificent closet and having an incredible breakfast, I got over it. You both warned me yesterday I could not tag along. No reason for me to stay mad when you both were already gone when I woke up.”
By the time I finish my response, Roman’s mouth is so far open in surprise that he begins to drool. Christien looks at me, then Roman, then back at me.
I smile at Christien sweetly.
“Judging by the look on your face, I can assume her response to us leaving her behind is quite unexpected.” He looks at Roman. “I cannot sense any lie in her words. Why are you surprised she understands and decided to stay in the house?”
Roman is still staring at me with a disbelieving look, but he has closed his mouth. “Christien, there is something wrong with her.” His face changes from disbelief to concern. “I don’t believe she’s lying either, but there is no way in hell I can believe, even for a second, that she is going to let us off that easy. Either, she is up to something or she is possessed. I’m pretty sure demons don’t possess Angels, so I’m guessing she’s up to something.”
“I told you Rome, I overslept and you both were already gone when I woke up. I couldn’t do anything about the situation, other than wake up on time. I told you last night I have not been feeling well. I guess I needed a good night’s sleep.” I cringe at what I just admitted to him and try to cover my mistake but Roman interrupts me before I have the opportunity.
“What do you mean you haven’t been feeling well?” Roman blurts out.
Christien opens his mouth to explain but I give him a stern look. “Don’t you dare!”
Christien shuts his mouth and sends me a questioning look.
Roman approaches Christien. “Tell me.”
“Don’t get mad at him Rome.” I say in Christien’s defense.
“Now you are keeping secrets from me Jess?” Roman tosses a hurt glance in my direction.
“No, I would just rather talk to you about some things alone.” I respond.
“Fine, let’s go.”
“Not until you guys tell me about Hassan. I may not be mad about you both ditching me to hunt for Hassan, but that doesn’t mean I won’t get angry if you don’t tell me what’s going on right now!” By the time I finish my sentence, I am on my feet with the blood thirst rising fast.
A cool wash of power drifts over me, sending chills down my spine. The power chases the blood thirst away, leaving me with a sense of peace. “This is much more subtle and comforting than before. Thanks.” I say aloud to Christien while still facing Roman.
Christien is beside me the next second. “What do you mean Jessica? Does my power feel different to you?”
I turn to Christien and describe the feeling I just had when his power washed over me. He starts to ask more questions, but I stop him by saying, “Quit changing the subject you two. What happened with the search? What are you hiding?”
“We could ask you the same thing.” Roman says angrily.
“Fine, don’t want to talk? I’m going home.” I push past Roman. Before I reach the door, both men are standing in front of it.
“What’s going on? What is this about?” Both of them exchange a look with each other. Christien stands in front of me. “You cannot go home ma chatte petite.” He says soothingly.
“Why can't I?” I snap back.
“Because Hassan may know where you live.” Christien supplies solemnly.
“How could he know where I live? I am very careful. What makes you think that? What did you find out?” I ask, my voice cracking with panic.
“We followed a trail that led to your house today. Why don’t you sit down and we’ll talk.” He says, guiding me to the couch.
I grab one of the few bags of blood left on the warmer. Using a sharp knife on the cart, I slice the bag open carefully and pour it into an empty coffee mug. I take a sip to make sure the blood is still good. Satisfied it has not spoiled; I grip the mug with both hands and sit down. It is then that I notice both of their clothes are in disarray and torn as if they have been in a scuffle. Roman’s eye is slightly swollen and Christi
en’s shirt has dried blood spots on it.
Chapter 29
“What happened to you?” I ask, showing the concern on my face.
I reach up and touch Roman’s eye. He winces and pulls away slightly.
“I am fine. I’ll heal.” Roman assures me.
I turn to Christien, putting a hand on the exposed part of his chest from a slash through his shirt. “And you? Are you okay?”
His eyes flash to silver briefly. He puts a hand over mine, holding it to his chest. He clears his throat and replies softly. “I am fine ma chatte petite. Roman and I had a disagreement about whether or not we should say anything to you. Apparently, I have made my point.”
“You got lucky.” Roman grumbles.
“Tell me what happened.” I demand.
Roman sighs and begins. “We went to Blixen this morning for any information anyone had on Hassan, Jacques, or Demetri. Some people recognized Jacques by the descriptions we gave and they led us to an abandoned building where he might have been staying. We searched the building but could not find any clue of whether or not he had been there. We left there and went back to the warehouse you took Christien to yesterday. It looked as if they moved out in a hurry. Papers were everywhere, furniture overturned, things like that. Christien and I spent a couple of hours there looking through the mess and stumbled across some papers stuck halfway in a paper shredder. It looked like bank transfers to private investigators, assassins, and bounty hunters. Turns out that Hassan might have been looking a lot harder for you than we originally thought. We looked up a few of the private investigators listed on the papers and went to see them.”
Christien picks up from where Roman leaves off. “I sifted through the private investigators’ minds until I found one that actually knew your name. He had met with a man that morning to give him your address. When we arrived at your home, it had already been broken in to. The police were there and someone filed a missing persons report on you. They found bagged blood, a few weapons and other suspicious items in your home. They had also issued a warrant for your arrest.”
My mouth is tight and I am gripping my mug very tightly. I am surprised it has not shattered. Crack!
The thick mug breaks into pieces. Shards of glass are stuck in my hand and other larger pieces fall to the floor. Blood splashes on the couch, the floor and on the three of us.
I guess I thought too soon.
I pull the glass shards buried deep in my hands and place them on the table with the rest of the glass Roman and I pick up. Roman goes to the bathroom to clean up the blood splatters on his arm and leg. I clean the blood from my face and hands the best I can with the wet towel from the tray and turn towards Christien to assist him in cleaning up.
I stop in my tracks. Christien is so still, he is like a statue. His eyes are almost like mercury silver. His nose flares. I look down at my hands and let out a small scream, but I do not move. Predators love a chase. Although all three of us are technically predators, I have just become prey. I know if I move to run, Christien will have no choice but to chase me. The cuts on my hands have almost healed, but they are deeper than minor scratches so they are not healing instantly.
Roman comes out of the bathroom. “What’s wrong?” He stops when he sees the look on Christien’s face. Roman moves towards me. Christien snarls at him.
I swallow another scream and shift my body away from Christien.
His voice is strangled with tension when Christien growls, “Do not move. Do not run. I will not hurt you. The feeling will pass.”
I feel a strange and powerful sensation pass through me. Oddly enough, it arouses me. My fear dissipates. Overwhelming feeling of lust and desire replaces my fear. My heart begins to pound for an entirely different reason. Physically unable to keep still any longer, I cross my legs, hoping to staunch the building wetness between my thighs. My nipples rub against my bra as I squirm, hardening them instantly. The power in the room builds, forcing me to stop a moan trying to escape from my throat. I smell cedar and sunshine, Christien, and feel his hand moving up and down my leg. His hand slides between my thighs. I uncross my legs and move them slightly apart, inviting his hand to caress me without resistance. He kisses my shoulder. I can feel the warmth of his breath through the thin fabric of my blouse. My back arches as a spasm runs through my body, forcing me to thrust my breasts in the air. The panties I have on are sticking to me from the wetness of my heightened arousal.
I sense movement beside me, but before I can turn to see what it is, Christien says with a sultry tone, “Leave us Loup. I promise to take care of her.”
Christien’s lips brush my neck as he softly kisses a path to my mouth. His left hand is unbuttoning my blouse from the bottom to the top as his right hand is stroking the hair, just above the back of my neck.
Roman must have asked him something because Christien responds to him. “Does she look like she is objecting to what I am doing?”
Unsatisfied by the progress Christien is making, I turn to him and slide my hands around his waist. I lean in and kiss him softly on the neck.
A breathy sigh escapes his lips. His breath rustles my hair. He mumbles something and I hear a door slam shut.
My hands slide under his shirt. His skin is warm under my fingertips. His lips meet mine in a passionate, almost desperate kiss. Moving his shirt down his shoulders slowly, I leave his skin exposed to the cool air in the room. My hands caress the toned muscles on his stomach and chest.
I break our kiss and push him onto his back. Swinging my leg over his, I straddle him then bend forward, placing kisses all over his stomach. I lick and nip at his belly button, forcing his body to jump in response. Following the thin and fine hair on his stomach up to his chest, I continue using my tongue over his body. My hands are moving his shirt up his body the same time my kisses do. Wanting more freedom with my hands, I encourage him to remove his shirt, providing me with the unrestricted view of his sculptured chest.
He watches me with lust-filled eyes as I drag my tongue from his belly button to chest. My mouth travels over his left nipple. I flick, nip, and suck his nipple until he is groaning and squirming with pleasure. His hands are roaming all over my body only stopping to grab an occasional fistful of hair.
As I am giving appropriate attention to his other nipple, he removes the ponytail from my hair. My long, dark hair cascades around my face, falling onto his chest. He moans, pulling me on top of him, so he may claim my mouth. His tongue is probing my mouth with unquenched passion and need as his hands plunge into my hair, squeezing and massaging my scalp.
I moan into his mouth.
He presses his hips forward against my body and I can feel his hardness against my stomach. He breaks the kiss after he removes my bra. He looks at my naked breasts and a devious smile crosses his lips. He sits up with me still straddling his waist and says seductively, “My turn.”
He lifts me off him easily, shifts his hips to the side and tosses me onto my back. Now he is straddling my legs.
I grin in anticipation.
His lips are like fire on my skin. Everywhere he kisses, touches, or licks leave an aching trail of need in its wake.
I am squirming and panting loudly by the time his mouth reaches my breasts. Instead of taking my breasts into his mouth, relieving my aching body of some desire, he traces his tongue in circles around the nipple repeatedly. My nipples are numb with tension. Only using the tip of his tongue, he flicks the wet, flexible muscle back and forth across the top of my nipple.
I moan in ecstasy as an orgasm rolls over me. I struggle to catch my breath as he repeats the process on the other nipple with the same results. The panties I am wearing are very wet with my juices, my jeans soiled with moisture. My body is limp from release.
Christien gets to his feet, picks me up and carries me to his bed. The cool satin sheets feel slick against my exposed skin. He spreads his body along the length of mine, but only stays there long enough to give me a long passionate kiss. He drags his bod
y down mine. His chest feels so good against mine, but the feeling does not last long enough for my liking. I can feel his nipple brush my stomach as he kisses down my neck and between my breasts. His hands find the buttons on my jeans. I hear and feel the zipper go down. Not only can I smell his desire, I can feel his power spiking, making my nipples harder. His hands move inside my jeans and down to my hips. He works at my jeans while he is kissing, sucking and biting my navel. My hips thrust upwards off the bed in response to his touches. He takes the opportunity to slide the jeans past my backside and hips. Working his lips down my body, he wiggles the pants down my thighs, leaving them around my ankles. I try to squirm out of them, but he straddles my legs, effectively pinning me down. I whine and squirm in frustration. His lips tongue and teeth meet the top of my panties. His tongue dips below the edge, tracing a line along my stomach.
“Enough.” I groan. He looks up at me and grins.
“Okay, enough games then.” He agrees with his voice strained.
He pushes my jeans to the floor, taking my shoes and socks with them. Since the pants are no longer restricting the movements of my legs, I settle them around his waist. Christien sits up abruptly, grabs my panties and rips them off my body.
I yelp in excitement as he unbuttons his pants, releasing his straining erection.
A sigh escapes his lips. He moves back to stand, breaking my legs’ hold on him. I whimper in dissatisfaction. As he is removing his shoes, socks, pants and underwear, I sit up in bed to watch him. His body is sculptured perfection.
The muscle tone and smooth skin resembles a perfectly molded statue. As he comes forward, I take his well-endowed manhood into my hand and stroke him gently. He runs his fingers around the edges of my face, pushing my hair back so he can watch me study his body. I use the tip of my tongue to circle the head. His grip on my hair tightens briefly then relaxes again. I place a kiss on the hole on the tip of his penis. Licking just underneath the hole, I move to the base placing kisses all the way down and back up to the head. I run my tongue up and down the length of his shaft, twisting and turning my head so I do not impede his view as he watches me. When I take him into my mouth, I look up demanding his eyes meet mine.