Midnight Angel

by Lisa Marie Rice

  The stubbornness fell from her like a veil. Allegra looked young and vulnerable and lost as she pulled her hand from his. She dropped her head down, frowning, and rubbed her forehead.

  “I don’t know, Douglas. It doesn’t make any sense at all. How could he possibly be here? I don’t—Oh, God, it hurts.” Pale and stricken, she clutched her head with both hands. “My head hurts. I’m sorry—I can’t think straight. This happens to me when I—oh, God, it hurts so much.” Her voice dropped to a whimper as she rubbed her temples. She blinked hard but a tear rolled down her cheek.

  Jesus. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

  If Kowalski could reach his own butt, he’d kick it. Allegra had head trauma, had been in a coma. She had a blood clot in her brain, this little time bomb just waiting for some asshole to push her and stress her so it could pop and—no more Allegra.

  Her hands trembled. His nearly did, too.

  “Okay, baby, that’s okay.” He tried to put soothing tones in his voice but it came out a croak. “That’s fine, don’t worry about it. It’ll come to you.” He patted her hand, his touch awkward, terrified he might jar her, hurt her. “We can talk about it some other time.”

  Allegra planted her hands against his cheeks and leaned forward to kiss him. She missed slightly, the kiss catching him on the corner of his mouth, but when she lifted her mouth to kiss him again, he took control.

  The kiss was long, luscious, heated, pulsing with desire, as hot as sex.

  She came up for air, leaning her forehead against his. “Take me to bed, Douglas. Take me to bed and make love with me,” she pleaded. “Take me away from the here and the now. I can’t remember and I can’t forget.”

  He rose with her in his arms.

  Douglas put her down somewhere in the bedroom. She recognized her bedroom by the smell. Her special potpourri from Florence, Italy, fabric softener and now the overwhelming smell of lavender oil from the bathroom made an unmistakable mix.

  She knew where she was. She didn’t know who she was anymore, but she knew where she was.

  Didn’t matter. If there was anything in the world guaranteed to take her mind off her troubles, it was sex with Douglas. He simply swept her away from this world and—most importantly—from herself.

  He’d dressed her, so now she let him undress her. She stood quietly while he gathered the folds of her nightgown and pulled it up over her head. She was naked underneath. Though she hadn’t heard the click of the lights, there was light coming in from the streetlamp outside her window. He could see her.

  What was he seeing?

  “You’re so beautiful.” His voice was raw and low as he stripped. She could hear his clothes dropping to the floor.

  Oh. That’s what he was seeing. She was pretty, she knew that. She had a nice enough body. It was healthy. She wasn’t fat and she wasn’t thin, not large in the breast department.

  But the men she’d been to bed with before Douglas certainly hadn’t been overwhelmed. They’d been cool and laid-back, happy to bed her but perfectly capable of living without her. Their hands didn’t shake when they touched her, they weren’t in a constant state of semi-arousal, they couldn’t go all night.

  Douglas seemed to think she was so beautiful, so she felt beautiful.

  So was he. Allegra stretched her arms up to run them over his shoulders. Her body wasn’t anything spectacular, but his sure was.

  It still surprised her, the power she felt in him. There’d never been anyone like him before in her life. Her father had been small and slender, with Irish-handsome features and a light voice. Her cousins all had the Ennis frame, too. Her boyfriends and lovers had all been…well, musicians. Cute and funny and klutzy in real life, outside music. Not at all like Douglas, powerful and masterful and capable in so many ways.

  This time with him was special. Who knew when she would ever have a chance to be with someone like Douglas again?

  “You’re beautiful yourself,” she murmured, running her hands down the contours of his body, over hard, bulging biceps, down over large forearms, linking briefly with rough, calloused hands. “You feel wonderful.”

  She ran her hands over his stomach and came across his penis. Amazing. It nearly reached his belly button. She ran her hand over it, lightly, and it quivered in response. Allegra smiled. There was no faking this, no way he could be pretending because he felt sorry for her. Men were at such a disadvantage. She’d faked arousal and she’d faked orgasms in her life and there was no way they could. Men were so…binary. Turned on or turned off.

  Women had the option of being on a spectrum running from boredom to pleasure, though right now she was way over on the excitement side of that spectrum.

  She kissed his chest while her hand fondled him. Nuzzling against the chest hairs, feeling the heavy pectorals against her cheeks, her hand ran up and down along the broad length of his penis. It was alive in her hand, the blood running in hot spurts beneath the skin. She felt every pulse of blood, she could feel his heartbeat, she could feel his desire.

  He was breathing heavily and she smiled against his chest. Oh, wow. It was so delightful to hear his breath bellowing in and out and know that she’d reduced him to this. As if she were a four-mile race.

  Turning her head, she bit his right nipple, a tiny rock-hard bead. He gasped.

  “You like that.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Oh, yeah,” he breathed. She could feel the vibrations of his deep voice against her mouth. “Don’t stop, please.” He gasped when she bent down to lick him, delicately, like a cat. “Please,” he repeated, the deep voice a low whisper, as if he desperately needed something only she could give him.

  Maybe only she could.

  It was his gift to her—the power she wielded over him.

  Allegra slowly kneeled, kissing her way down his chest and stomach, feeling his muscles contract where she touched him with her lips.

  Had she ever met another man as powerful as Douglas? He was not only physically overwhelming, she had the impression that he had a very strong character, as well. She wasn’t his equal in any way, not physically, probably not emotionally. And of course she was at such a huge disadvantage in being blind. Any other man would have taken advantage, but not Douglas.

  Actually, she felt incredibly powerful in his presence. The power was all hers, at all times. It was there, in the way his hands sometimes trembled when they touched her, in the way he gentled his hold, in the way he seemed to hesitate before making a move, as if to make sure it was pleasing to her.

  It was. It was all pleasing. Like now, touching him. She was on her knees but she was still all-powerful. Every time she touched him with her mouth, she could feel the reaction in his penis. It moved strongly in her hand as she nuzzled his groin, her nose in the dense, rough, curly hair there.

  He smelled strongly of Douglas’ male musk—a smell that would forever be associated with amazing sex in the primitive recesses of her brain—and, incongruously, of her French triple-milled rose-scented soap.

  Douglas’ large hands came down lightly on her head as she inched her face closer to his penis.

  “Please,” he said again. “Please.” He was begging.

  Allegra had her hand around him so she knew how to angle her face to lick him, even if she couldn’t see him. She could feel him, though, and that was enough. She lay a hand on his massive thigh and cupped his testicles while running her tongue along his length. Slowly, taking her time. When she made it to his broad tip, she licked the dense wetness there. He was weeping semen. She licked it all off, slowly.

  Douglas was making delicious moaning sounds and his hands clenched briefly in her hair, then he immediately opened his fists, clearly afraid he might hurt her.

  Allegra didn’t need to see. She had all the sensory input she needed. The feel of him, the taste of him, the smell of him, the helpless sounds of pleasure he was making—it was all imprinted in her mind. Even if she could see, her eyes would be closed in concentration as
she tasted him, licking her way back down to the thick base of his penis. And back up again, slowly.

  She didn’t even try to take him in her mouth. He was too enormous for that and she’d gag. This was much better, nibbling her way up the column of his sex, feeling the blood course through him just beneath the skin.

  She sat back on her heels for a second, one hand tight around him, slowly pumping up and down, the other exploring his groin, feeling her way around to the hard muscles of his butt. She dug her nails in, briefly, and felt the answering surge of blood in his penis.

  This was so delicious!

  “You’re killing me, you know that, don’t you?” he rumbled way above her head.

  “Yes?” The thought was wonderful. She was reducing him to weakness. “I thought you were such a tough guy.” She leaned forward and bit him, lightly. He jerked.

  “That’s it.” The deep voice sounded strangled as he lifted her and placed her on the bed so her legs dangled over the edge. “Now it’s my turn.”

  “Your…? Oh.” Hard hands opening her legs, soft kisses along her thighs, his thumbs opening her up and—“Oh!”

  He was kissing her there exactly as he kissed her mouth, with finesse, angling his head for the best possible fit, tongue deep inside her, moving gently. In seconds she was trembling, starting the free fall…

  “Douglas,” she whispered. He shifted, his tongue moving more deeply, faster…

  “Oh, God.” She shook and when he licked her clitoris, she exploded.

  Douglas shifted her further up the bed and entered her as she was coming. He moved in her in short, hard strokes. He seemed to know exactly how to move in her to keep her coming. Her contractions went on and on, her heart hammering as her whole body throbbed.

  He was above her, his heavy weight resting on his forearms next to her head. She could feel it as he lowered his head to her ear.

  “That’s it, honey. Keep going.” His chest was against her breasts and she could feel the vibration of his deep voice echoing the hot whisper in her ear. The contractions were finally dying down, his strokes sharp, hard. “No, don’t stop. I want you to keep coming for me.” The tempo of his strokes increased, moving hard and fast in her and Allegra moved right into another climax, the first time she’d ever had two in a row. He was relentless, gripping her hips so that they tilted up, so that somehow his penis touched her way deep inside, touching her…there.

  This time her entire body seemed to go haywire as her body arched under his. A low keening sound echoed in the room and it took her a second to realize that she was the one making that animal sound.

  “More.” His voice was so close to her ear it raised goose bumps along the flesh of her neck. “More, give me more.”

  There wasn’t anything more to give him, yet somehow he seemed to wring another climax out of her, his strokes becoming longer, even faster. Every hair on her body stood up as her orgasm went on and on…

  She could barely breathe. “Again,” he growled, and it was as if the mere sound of his voice, more than the rough pumping in and out of her, was causing her to climax, over and over again. Who knew she had this in her, this wild passionate response? Her lower body had turned into this sex machine. It was her arms and legs that finally gave out. She simply couldn’t hold him with her arms and legs any more. Her arms fell to the mattress, her legs fell from his hips. She had no more strength left.

  Douglas stopped when he felt her lose the tight grip she’d had on him and stilled inside her, steel-hard. They both waited, panting, while the contractions of her sheath died down.

  “That was amazing.” She felt his finger run down her cheek. What she wouldn’t give to see his face right now. Did he have a tender expression? Was his face distorted by lust? Maybe she should touch his face to see whether he was smiling, but her arm wouldn’t obey her. Douglas kissed her, briefly. “Just amazing.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. There was no strength left in her at all, all her muscles felt like water. “It was wonder—” A huge yawn overtook her, impossible to suppress.

  Douglas bent to kiss her, thoroughly, deeply. While he was kissing her, he slowly withdrew from her. She wanted to protest, but couldn’t. A second later, she was asleep.

  Evil—slick and cold as ice—hung in the air. Blood gleamed red on the white marble floor, red gleaming rivulets merging into streams. The coppery smell of blood filled her nostrils, making her sick. They were high up, floating above the city whose lights were spread out below like a jeweled carpet, bright and heartless as diamonds. Up here was madness and death, reflected in the gleaming windows, reflected a thousand times off the silver and crystal.

  The face was pure malice, cold eyes and calculation, as it turned to her. She had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. A tide of blood was rising in the white elegant room, covering the cream carpet, lapping at the table legs, staining the cream couches. The smell was unbearable, the putrid stench of death. Red and white, red red red…

  He moved through the blood. It didn’t touch him. Ever the dandy, he was wearing a light-gray designer suit. When he walked toward her, the movement made little wavelets in the river of red, but he walked through it as if across an empty room. He looked down briefly, and distaste crossed his face at the sight of the blood.

  His eyes, a chilly ice blue, rose to meet hers. It was as if there was no person behind those eyes. Just malice and calculation.

  She had to get away because her blood would soon join the sea in the room. She knew that like she knew her name, like she knew music. She turned to run away but the blood turned viscous, like mud. She couldn’t move her feet. Her heart pumped madly, she had to run now! But she couldn’t move. She opened her mouth to call for help but no sound came out.

  Closer, closer, with a shard of ice in his hand. No, not ice, steel. A razor-sharp dagger flashing silver in the light, raised to slash down, coming closer… The panicked scream in her chest couldn’t make it past her throat. She tried to run but couldn’t move!

  Oh God, he was so close, eyes so icy cold. The dagger had disappeared and in its place was a club, swinging down…

  “Hey, hey honey, wake up.”

  Allegra screamed and scrambled to escape, but she was entangled in soft folds, a nightmare of cloth. She was wound tight in sheets and blankets, no defense against a swinging club. That blinding white light was gone. She was in the stifling dark, defenseless against a murderer.

  Don’t kill me, please! The words were in her head but couldn’t make it past her tight throat, trapped inside. She desperately pressed her back against the headboard of the bed, wrapped in a sweaty cocoon of sheets and blankets impeding her movements. There was nowhere to run. She was trapped in the dark.

  A big hand touched her and she screamed again, flailing desperately, uselessly.

  “Whoa. Bad one.”

  She was pulled against a body, a big one. Strong arms went around her, not crushing, just holding.

  Fighting him made no impression at all. She wore herself out quickly, trying to fight against the strength holding her. It was like fighting a wall. She struggled, twisting and squirming. She beat her fists against his chest, but he didn’t move. Didn’t even make a sound. Finally she stopped, panting.

  She didn’t stop because she was tired. She’d fight for her life with her last breath if she had to. She stopped because the pervasive sense of horrible menace—something close and evil and out for her—was gone. All she felt now was…quiet strength, encasing her in the darkness.

  “It’s okay, honey. You had a nightmare.” Quiet words. Deep voice.

  Douglas.

  Safety.

  She was sobbing, breath coming in hitches. She tried to control her breathing to get the panic down and was finally able to draw a deep breath, then two. The bright panic was gone, replaced by confusion, a sinking feeling of loss and desolation.

  And darkness. She hated the dark, always had, even as a little girl.

  A kiss on her hair, then that deep reassu
ring voice. “That was a doozie. Do you want some water?”

  She rested her forehead for a second against his chest, panting, trying to gather her scattered self together.

  Water? She shook her head. No, right now she wanted light.

  She lifted her head. It was so damned dark. It made the fast-fading memory of the nightmare worse. You get rid of nightmares with light. Everyone knew that.

  “Switch on the light, Douglas.” She rubbed her eyes. Her eyes were wet, though she didn’t remember crying. “God,” she gasped. “That was awful. I need some light.”

  His arms tightened around her.

  Darkness, still.

  Why wasn’t he listening to her? She raised her voice. “Douglas, please turn on the light. I hate being in the dark.”

  “Allegra—”

  The darkness made her panic. She struggled vainly against the soft blanket and his hard arms. Dammit, she couldn’t see!

  “Douglas, what’s the matter with you, are you deaf? Turn on the damned light!”

  Light…light…light…

  The word echoed around the little room. Allegra stopped breathing.

  Two heartbeats later, he spoke. “The light is on, honey.”

  The light is on.

  She was blind.

  The realization was just as horrible as the first time—waking up in the hospital bed with sharp sickening smells, tethered to the IV. She’d screamed then for help. Now she had to clasp her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming again. She was blind, and screaming wouldn’t help.

  There was utter silence. Tears rose from that deep inexhaustible well she’d discovered in herself five months ago. The first tear to make it down her face and over the back of her hand made a faint plop noise on the sheet. Then the second tear, and the third.

  There was a silent scream in her throat she wouldn’t let out. Couldn’t. If she started screaming she’d never stop.

  It was hard to breathe, to think.

  Douglas left her. She wanted to call him back, but her throat wasn’t working. She felt empty and lost without that strength and warmth surrounding her. The cold seeped into her bones immediately. He’d left her. Where had he—