Out of Mind coa-2

by Stella Cameron

  “And you will, baby, you will. Forebrain, midbrain and hindbrain—I know this. But tell me about these things called hemispheres, the cerebellum—”

  “Lady, I’m a bodybuilder, not some guy who cuts up bodies. I don’t know shit about brains.” And he was scared now.

  “A bodybuilder.” With her knees, she pushed his thighs apart, not that he needed any persuasion. “And you work with flowers. That’s sweet.”

  “I don’t work with flowers,” he said. “That’s Chris. I’m a master shopper. Anything anyone needs, I can get, and faster than anyone else.” It sounded like something a girl would do.

  “How useful,” she said. “You have a lot of talents.”

  Funny he’d never thought of himself that way. He felt wide-awake. “What time is it? How long have I been here?” And where was he, when did he get there, why was he there?

  “Why do you die?” she asked. He didn’t know what to say.

  “Do you all die? There must be some element you can use to make others die. Fascinating. I want to learn all about these things.”

  His belly crawled. “Are you for real?” he asked.

  She laughed. “I want to keep you interested for a long time so I’ll surprise you with my questions.”

  Mewling sounds reached him. Like a cat, but not quite. A sheet of fur with spiny struts embedded, settled over his private parts and it jerked. Prickling, like pins, and very sharp, tapped at his belly and the mewling turned into a cracking whine.

  He swallowed a scream and tried to yank his arms and legs free. There was no way.

  A cry shocked him, like someone in pain. More cracking as if something was stretched wider than it ever should be.

  Again he tore at his bonds, twisting his body from side to side. He felt blood running from his wrists. The bars rattled, but didn’t give.

  Whirring followed, and air rushed over him, tousling his hair, cooling his skin. Small, hard ridges glided the length of his penis. He held still, terrified for what would come next. The whirring intensified, propellerlike, faster and faster, turning on his hardened, bursting flesh. He couldn’t control the mounting excitement, the intense roaring in his ears and the fire in his loins.

  His hips rose from the mattress and he shrieked. Rods of white heat shot through him and his back arched up, trembled, pumped. Then he emptied, so fast he felt he would choke. At the same time the bonds were released, ripped away. What felt like claws rushed the length of him and, gradually, those big breasts replaced the blanket of fur and bony sinew.

  “Just let yourself go,” she told him. “I want to kiss you.”

  Her mouth closed over not just his mouth, but also his nose, and she sucked. At first he held her, rocking, trying to please her with his tongue, but then his arms were too short to surround her, his mouth so small it disappeared inside hers.

  He was shrinking!

  So quickly he couldn’t hold a thought, he got smaller and smaller and all the time she kept sucking at him.

  His head was in her mouth and she kept drawing on him. He curled up into a ball, tried to protect the soft parts of his body.

  The next sound was a pop. He flew away from her and landed in something grainy, began to sink.

  Flailing, throwing his arms in circles and pushing with his legs, he fought to the surface.

  A small light came on near him and he looked out through a distorted wall of thick glass.

  Chapter 31

  “It’s a bit obvious when everyone else leaves and we stay behind…together,” Willow said when Sykes had whipped out of the house with the other three. “You’ll have to be here since Sykes is using the flat, but I’m going to get back.”

  “Are you?”

  Ben’s tone said it all. He didn’t believe she had any intention of leaving.

  “Be serious. I need to get back and take Mario off Pascal’s hands. And try to settle my nerves about tomorrow—if that’s possible. It’s going to be weird and long.”

  Ben pulled her into the sitting room and sat on a couch. He patted the seat next to him. “Come be with me.”

  With her purse in both hands, she moved her weight from one leg to the other.

  “Still determined to cart the gun around,” he said. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.” He patted the couch again and she went slowly to sit on the edge.

  “It’s really late, Ben.”

  “You just said it wasn’t that late.”

  She kept her voice even. “You can’t take me prisoner.”

  Standing beside him and looking down accentuated his penetrating eyes, his high cheekbones and the shine on his long, black hair—worn tied back tonight. “You’d only be a prisoner if you didn’t want to stay. But you do know I won’t let you leave alone.”

  “I can’t spend the rest of my life handcuffed to you, Ben.”

  He smiled, and she came close to smiling back.

  “This won’t last forever,” Ben said. “You’ve heard what Nat had to say. I agree with him. So does Sykes. And Gray and Marley. So does Pascal. You heard what was said earlier. Sykes and I both feel we’re close to a crisis. You see how Marley is—almost like she’s sick. Her senses are wide-open, and she’s getting messages she doesn’t like. Then there’s Nat. He’s got every reason to want to debunk our theories, but he’s too smart. And he’s got guts.”

  “I couldn’t believe it when Nat said Fabio was missing,” Willow said. “Zinnia told me he’d called and said he’d be at the Brandts’ later in the day.”

  “She was covering for him,” Ben pointed out. “You can’t hold that against her.”

  “I never would. But I’ve got to get back to the courtyard. I heard Chris there.” She turned toward Ben. “I saw him. If I contact Fabio the same way, there won’t be any doubt about a connection between the missing.”

  “Willow, I want us to stay here tonight. We’ll go back as soon as it gets light and I feel okay about asking some of the others to help out.”

  She hugged herself.

  He continued, “I honestly believe we’ve hit it—the Embran want New Orleans, but particularly the French Quarter, as some sort of kingdom. For some reason it feels right to them—and the Millets are there. You’ve brought them here. You’ve been causing them to pop up in different places around the world for centuries. They’ve followed you and now you’re in their nirvana. What we still have to find out is exactly what they want from you.”

  “We’re not running away again,” she said, growing angry. “We’ll fight.”

  “Sykes and I decided this was a good place for tonight. You and I have been at the Court the last couple of days, and he’ll make it look as if we’re there tonight. So far I haven’t seen any sign of Embran being psychic. If I’m right, they aren’t going to pick up on us here.”

  “You can’t be sure. They found me before—and Marley before that.”

  “They knew where the Millets were. They knew where to look for you, then. They followed you around.”

  “They could have come after me tonight.”

  He caught her chin between his finger and thumb. “They didn’t.”

  She stared at him. “Has Pascal put a shield around me? I know he can do that, and then you can only be seen by those he wants to see you.”

  Ben’s eyebrows rose. “For someone who didn’t believe in any powers until a few days ago, you’ve come a long way.”

  Ben got up and offered her his hand.

  He had her off balance. “What now?” she asked, although she knew and willingly put her hand in his.

  They climbed the stairs slowly, never taking their eyes off each other.

  Willow wanted to lose herself in him, but she was edgy. “You and Sykes and Nat, I guess, you’ve decided we’re definitely close to a big crisis?”

  He nodded. “We can’t be sure how many of them may be here by now—and we do know they’re ruthless. I know all about the theory that there was just the one around—and his two half-human offspring when Marley got
involved. But even if it was true then, seeing evidence of their return proves nothing was solved.

  “It doesn’t help that no one is talking about what happened to Sidney and Eric Fournier after they were arrested. Then there’s Bolivar, Marley’s dragon. Poof, and he was gone from the jail. But I can’t find out the sequence—what happened and when.”

  “The killings have been different this time,” Willow said. “From one victim to the next. Billy Baker and Surry Green were very similar, but Chloe wasn’t.”

  “In a way it was all the same—they were scared to death, weakened and driven to collapse by horror, but we don’t believe they were attacked by the same thing. And we want to know why we haven’t found any of these missing people.”

  Willow thought of Chris and the woman she didn’t know, both groveling around among colored granules inside glass and so scared. Without knowing what was planned for them or where they were, she felt helpless. And now there was Fabio—she had to assume he was probably in the same position as the others.

  A churning wave of terror gripped her. “What if they can multiply quickly?” She caught at Ben’s waist. “There could be… Ben, there could be dozens of them waiting and watching. Hundreds of them.”

  They reached the top of the stairs.

  His expression closed. He gathered her against him, but she knew the answer was yes, and he didn’t want to tell her that.

  “I will never let anything hurt you, Willow.”

  “How can you see that bat thing when it shows up?” she asked, not expecting a straight answer.

  Ben studied her from beneath half-lowered lids. “Have you ever heard of the Third Eye?”

  She frowned and shook her head.

  “Some of us have it,” Ben said. “A very small number. It allows us to see what others can’t see.”

  “What sort of things?”

  He took his time again, and she figured he was deciding how much to say. “Things that want to hide from human sight and things that don’t care about human sight because they never consider they’ll be detected.”

  “Like what?”

  Shaking his head, he said, “You’re relentless. Like those who have passed beyond this life, but haven’t entered the next.”

  “You see ghosts,” she said flatly, with a flip of her stomach. “Can you see any now?”

  “No,” he told her promptly, walking with her toward the bedroom.

  “And you would if they were here?”

  “I would if they were here and I wanted to see them.”

  “Oh.” Her turn to think. “So they’re probably all around us. Sitting over there watching us, talking about us.”

  “No. They’ve passed beyond that. Unless we catch their attention for some reason, they don’t notice us.”

  “That’s comforting.”

  “And you feel moods,” Ben said. “Sadness, happiness, pain, hope, and then you figure out what caused the moods. That’s pretty specialized stuff, Willow.”

  “I don’t feel it all the time.”

  “That’s because you don’t work at it,” Ben said. “But you will as you learn how valuable your gifts are.”

  She gave him a skeptical look.

  His fingertips, circling on the small of her back, shortened her breath. Closing in, holding him as tightly as she could, she absorbed shock after shock fanning from his touch. When he stiffened, his body hard all over, she let their sensations fuse.

  “Morning will come too soon,” she told him softly, feeling her resolve slip away. “Lie with me.” She was gripped with the sudden conviction that she must make the very best of this night with him.

  A sigh shuddered along his length. “Things have changed. If we keep pursuing our Bond, what we feel will intensify and it may be more than we can recover from in a few hours.” But he braced his legs apart and trapped her with his thighs.

  “Ben, we don’t know…. Who knows what time they’ve got, or what tomorrow’s going to bring?”

  “No one,” he said into her hair, stroking her back from neck to waist and cupping her bottom. He lifted her against his pelvis.

  “Can’t this—whatever we make of tonight—can’t it be because we want to be together? Without thinking about all the heavy stuff family expectations put on us?” If she was aggressive, so be it. She had always been too reticent when it came to showing how she felt about him.

  “That’s more or less what you said the last time you wanted us to be together without any strings.” He raised his chin and looked down on her. “I can’t let you go, Willow. Not ever. I can’t live without you—I know that now.”

  She knew it, too. She felt as if she bled inside at the thought of losing him, but she couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t change over time, and that would be even more unbearable.

  “Why did you send me away before?” he asked, his face sad and nakedly honest.

  Carefully, on tiptoe, she worked the band out to free his hair and let it fall to his shoulders. “You look like a warrior. I love your hair free. You’re a wild man when you’re like this.”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  For a moment she regarded him seriously. “I can’t tell you, Ben. Except that it was out of…love, and fear. And I don’t know if I’m over the fear.”

  He spread one big hand over the side of her cheek and head and turned her face up to his. “Does that mean you do know you’re not over the love?”

  “I’m not going to lie. I can’t stop loving you. I never will—not that it looks as if I’ll be around long.” She gave a little laugh, but it didn’t sound convincing.

  Absently, he stripped off the shirt. His broad, muscular shoulders and clearly defined chest shone. What low light did for Ben’s body ought to be against the law.

  “You ought to be scared of the way you make me feel,” she said.

  “You don’t know danger when it peers into your eyes, do you?” Ben said.

  “Don’t I? Maybe I like danger.”

  He took hold of her left arm and pulled her in front of him. When he sank to his knees, she stood over him, and he stopped her from joining him on the floor.

  Willow had on white sweats and a pair of Mean ’n Green sneakers. She figured she didn’t make a sexy picture.

  The way Ben looked at her suggested otherwise. He slid down the zipper on her jacket, starting slowly, but losing his control a little as the front parted and he saw the white cotton bra that was all she wore underneath.

  He tossed her jacket aside. Her pants slid easily to her ankles, but then he had to stop and take off her shoes. She held his shoulders, but if the moment might have seemed funny at another time, it didn’t now. Her heart beat rapidly and hard, and despite standing in only her bra and panties, she was hotter than ever.

  His own feet were already bare and she shucked his jeans fast.

  One glance proved foreplay would depend on his control.

  Maybe she didn’t want him to have any control.

  Tossed over his shoulder, Willow couldn’t make any plans for moves of her own. Ben deposited her on the mattress, hooked her knees over his shoulders and plunged his mouth into the soft, moist warmth between her thighs. His tongue worked rapidly beneath her panties and flicked over the hard, swollen bud there.

  Willow writhed. She heard the noises she made—like a squealing animal.

  Ben had a capable tongue, a sexy, talented tongue. In seconds, with his hands covering her breasts, he brought her to pulsing readiness. She crossed her ankles behind his neck. Her mind wouldn’t work properly, and she didn’t try to change a thing.

  Willow’s climax tore into her. She broke into a sweat that soaked her body. When she opened her eyes, Ben’s face leaned over hers, his eyes searing, flame-blue. His chest rose and fell with great breaths. She couldn’t stop her hips from rising and falling, or her breasts from stinging.

  Ben flipped Willow to her feet, and she clung to him. “I’m going to fall,” she said.

  “I won’t let
you. Willow, say the word and there’s still time to stop.”

  “Are you into torture?” she asked him.

  “I don’t think I can be… I just don’t want to hurt you.” He had never looked more desperate. Longing mingled with apprehension. “I couldn’t bear it if I did.”

  She undid her bra and shrugged it off.

  Ben’s lips and teeth closed over a nipple, and she moaned, couldn’t stop herself. From his lips to her flesh and beyond, live shocks tore into her. She heard his panting, and the moan in his throat. In seconds they were both completely naked.

  “Wait,” she breathed. “Wait, Ben, please.”

  He pulled back, anxiety deepening the lines around his tensed mouth.

  She tried to push him onto the mattress, but there was no moving him until he moved himself, never taking his eyes from hers.

  Willow sat beside Ben, slipped her mouth over him. She used her teeth, slid the soft, wet insides of her cheeks along the length of him again and again, held his testicles and squeezed gently.

  “Oh, my God,” he said through his teeth. “Oh, Willow, please.” His face contorted with pain but she didn’t feel any guilt. This was the prize they shared, the pain that pleased more than anything any “normal” person could hope for.

  Her teeth, digging a little deeper, brought his pelvis against her lips in a frenzy. He squeezed her breasts, ran his hands over as much of her as he could reach.

  Grabbing one of her ankles, he pulled her leg between his, then underneath him until they rode, her mound to the hard, insistent parts of him. He stretched her other leg along the length of him and took her toes in his mouth, sucking in rhythm to the beat of his hips.

  Then he was inside her, gliding up, penetrating more deeply than she had imagined possible. He seemed to reach her womb. She wanted him to fill her up completely. Her arms fell loose and she splayed them. Ben’s muscles, with the power of a releasing crossbow, sent arrows that flamed and scorched their way through her body.

  The rush of him inside her, the yell at his release, had her shaking and clinging to him convulsively. Before she could catch her breath, he turned her over, pushed his knees beneath her and massaged her clitoris with his fingers.