Eluding Nirvana (The Dark Evoke Series Book 2)

by Brock, V. L.

  Huh? My brow furrowed and eyes narrowed.

  “It’s lucky neither of us has aversions to dairy because I was thinking, whipped cream…” I thought my eyes were going to pop out of their sockets; my body suddenly shuddered as my mind was tantalized by one single thought. Down my body he slipped, his lips maneuvered over my throat and the swelling of my breasts which were rising and falling rapidly. A groan vibrated through my chest as my breast spilled out from the cup of my bra as he tugged it downward. “Maybe a little raspberry nipple sauce?” he flicked my nipple with the tip of his tongue, the cool air pasted onto the peaking flesh before he took it into the wet heat of his mouth. “I meant, raspberry ripple,” he clarified after a small nip of his teeth.

  “Of course you did,” I gasped, my pelvis pushing upward as finally, sweet friction was made along the substantial, growing bulge in his pants.

  Each perfectly placed kiss which was spread over my body had my squirming and trembling in sweet anticipation. The sound of his voice as he spoke low, husky and in innuendos, alongside his teasing ways of informing me what I was in for, had my thighs glazed with desire.

  “But first,” I studied him as his head got further away and sank between my parted thighs. Before he had me lying back, panting, wanton and splayed, my legs were hooked over his shoulders, while my core was held with his scissoring fingers. I could feel the throb taking my body over like a lustful demon trying to break free. “I fancy eating a little pussy.”

  His tongue took one long sweep up my exposed center before orbiting and sucking gently. Head tossed back, my hands clawed into the bedding, my groan of pleasurable approval vibrated from my throat.

  As I was lost to Liam and his expert tongue, the events of the day were incinerated, never to be remembered again.

  Chapter Seven

  December 2011.

  Eighteen months before the accident…

  Where does time go?

  I remember when I was a child; a year passing would feel like an eternity. The interval between each Christmas would feel like twelve long years, instead of twelve short months. It’s bizarre how as you get older, you become more aware of how quick time actually passes. It goes by in a blink of an eye. Is it because life as an adult is significantly more boring than that in childhood, and the days all seem to meld into one long journey, which makes it feel so? I don’t know. All I know is: one morning I’m waking up and red and golden leaves are snapping from the trees, spiraling down to the cold ground without a care in the world. The next, I’m waking up and every tree is bare, their leaves crumpled on the freezing ground and dusted with what looks like icing-sugar, making them stiff and crunch under your weight.

  I was standing in the living room, wistfully pursuing the area which had been our home for three years. It wasn’t totally empty, the coffee table and rug were still in their designated space, but it felt so…bare.

  Memories, both good and bad, had been created in this very apartment, and now we were leaving. We were moving from Dorchester to somewhere called Bricksdale. I didn’t care for it. I hadn’t even seen the property. Liam went ahead, called all the shots like DeLaney does with his high-strung ways and simply told me to trust him and his judgment.

  Having connections in all the right places makes things a whole lot easier. In saying that, having a boyfriend with those connections, makes things twice as difficult for the person who is less inclined to follow through with his requests.

  It was simple: I didn’t want to leave. I especially didn’t want to leave a place I felt comfortable, a place I could call my home, for some random place that sounds like it should have a spot on some paranormal television show.

  I was told that the move was to be kept a secret, which meant not spilling my guts to my parents or to Brittany. I couldn’t have told Brittany anyway. Since she left us at Logan Airport over seven weeks ago, I had barely spoken to her. Each time I called her cell there was no answer, so I would call Mom and Dad but there would always be an excuse as to why she couldn’t talk. Feeling as though she was avoiding me for some reason, made my heart ache in my chest. The last encounter, I gave up on attempting to make conversation. It was too challenging with her grunts and monosyllable answers, while the sounds of feeble giggles, as though she was attempting to satisfy my humorous side, spawned nothing but agitation.

  Sighing deeply, my attention fell to the crimson stain on the cream rug at the side of the coffee table. I was shaking my head to myself as I studied the imperfection, silently wondering how one person can be so damn clumsy, when a nudge at my shoulder pulled me from my hypnotic trance. “Hmm,” I sounded from my throat while turning my attention to Laurie. Her purple block-dyed bangs, was now a thing of the past. Orange was apparently the new color of the season.

  “Still couldn’t get it out?” she asked, flicking a quick glimpse to the focal point of my attention.

  I shook my head sadly and my voice was just as wistful, “No. I don’t think it’ll be coming with us, that’s for damn sure.”

  “Kady…” On the tops of my arms she set both hands and stared at me as though she was attempting to read my mind. Her hair piled into a knot atop of her head, her face had a natural glow, even without makeup. “I’m your friend. I may not know you as good as Liv, but I am your friend. You can tell me––”

  I knew where this was going. The same persuasion tactic had been used every day for the previous five days, and I was getting somewhat jaded in having to continually repeat and defend myself. Through clenched teeth I simply grunted, “He didn’t hit me Laurie. He wouldn’t lay a hand on me in that way.”

  “Then why have you got sticky strips holding that gash above your eye shut, and blood on the carpet?” Her hazel eyes were like mud-covered stones as her face screwed up and hardened.

  At her words I lifted my left hand, wincing before my fingertips even settled on my flesh. My stomach churned and pain shot through my head when my hesitant fingers delicately caressed the area which was swollen, and looking pretty damn ugly with the purple and red marking outlining it. “I’ve already told you, Laurie,” I muttered and let my hand fall from my head to clutch my right shoulder. “I told him I wasn’t happy with the way he sprang the news that we were moving on me, and only a week before the actual move itself. The fact that he kept something so damn big a secret for so damn long, I…” my words waned as the image of that block jaw tightening and his dark eyebrows knitted as he glowered at me that night, prowling toward me, his finger pointed… “I pushed and pushed on wanting to tell my parents. It’s my own fault, I shouldn’t have pushed him––”

  “That’s what they all say, Kady. ‘It was my fault…I should have known better…I walked into a fucking door…” she derided.

  Rolling my eyes, I was hyper alert of the anger gradually increasing in my stomach, causing my blood to overheat and butterflies to flutter and sweep the walls of my gut. I wasn’t going to stand for anyone insinuating that my boyfriend was abusive. He wasn’t, he was protective. He wanted to look after me. Defensive, a surge of adrenaline decided to join the party, rendering me a quivering mess. “He shoved me. I lost my balance and cracked myself on the corner of that fucking table. He wouldn’t physically hurt me, Laurie. I know Liam. He just wouldn’t.”

  She filled her lungs steadily while shaking her head as though the words I was speaking were anything but truths.

  “He was right though––”

  Incredulous, her hairline was met by her eyebrows. “What?! To physically shove you?” she squealed in profound disbelief.

  My eyes rolled once again and I made a noise of ‘don’t be so silly’. “He was right for insisting that I didn’t tell my parents. They would have done exactly what Liam said they would’ve done: take over. We already have you and Liv to help us. It would’ve been the, ‘too many cooks in the kitchen’ scenario, and no one would have been happy with that.”

  “Are you sure?”

  A grin spread across my face as I nodded. “I�
��m sure. Now, help me tape up these boxes.” I held up a roll of duct tape and with a relaxed smile, we went to work. “That reminds me,” I piped over the loud tearing noise of the tape being unraveled. “You never told me if your cousin got in contact with Liam. And Liam won’t tell me anything work related anymore,” I pouted.

  “He did and fair play to Liam, he’s made him the happiest man alive,” she grinned, closing and sealing the box ahead of her.

  “Why do you say that?”

  I watched her shoulders visibly droop. “Because he’s a hard fucking worker, Kady,” she drew her focus from the next box and peeked at me. “That man would go to the end of the world and back just to make sure he wasn’t a person who would be labeled as sitting on their ass all day. Actually, he has done. Liam made a good choice in taking him on. And you,”––with her small hands on her knees, she hauled herself up, framed my face in the heat of her hands, and planted a kiss on the top of my denim bandana––“are a star for planting the seed.”

  Half an hour had passed in a blink of an eye. We spoke about the normal shit which Laurie and I had seemingly fallen into. She told me about the pink pony, birthday cake she just made for her niece’s second birthday. It was heartwarming witnessing the passion emanated through her features as she spoke about her fine pieces of edible art. Suppressing a smile was not an option.

  “I’ll have to teach you one day,” she baited, stacking the boxes which were ready and waiting to be moved.

  Studying the accumulation of packages gradually piling higher, the silent wonder of where the Hell Liam and Liv were was unavoidable. They had been gone for about an hour. I wasn’t going to be happy if this new house was an hour’s drive away. With that, I could be certain.

  “Teach me what?”

  “Baking and decorating.”

  My eyes flared and my brain was vibrating with each vicious shake of my head. “Nope, I don––”

  She bounded toward me like an over enthused puppy bringing a premature end to my refusal. “Come on, Kady, it’ll be fun. We can pick at bits of the icing, lick the spoon…make pornographic molds out of fondant…what do you say? You might understand why it’s so relaxing.”

  “Pornographic molds?” It felt like an era for those two words to be out in the open as I freed them at a snail’s pace. Glittering puppy dog eyes mutely pleaded from over the frames of her red specs. “Okay,” I conceded, “But only male pornographic molds.”

  The apartment door being swung open drew an end to our giggles. I rolled myself back from my knees into a standing position and strolled to the hallway to be met by a flushed and sweaty looking Liv and Liam. I was secretly grateful that it was insisted upon that I stay here and finish packing the remaining little pieces, instead of carrying boxes up and down eight flights of stairs.

  I felt my heart swelling.

  He knew how to keep me safe and healthy.

  “You two look terrible. We still have a few glasses left unpacked, do you want a drink? You both look like you could do with one.” I flipped a glance to my left through to the kitchen. I was going to miss this place.

  Liv flipped her perfect sleek brunette hair behind her shoulders then rubbed my shoulder. How she could be that sweaty and not have frizz-ball hair, I have no idea. I envied her. “That’ll be brilliant, thanks, chick,” she panted, bypassing me to get to the living room.

  Liam’s presence was consuming as he trailed behind me into the kitchen. I swirled out the high-ball glasses, before filling them with icy cold water. Feeling that familiar hole being burned into my back with his intense scrutiny, I lifted my head. I swear I heard a low, carnal growl travel along the unspoken rift between us. When I turned around with the glasses in hand, Liam’s gaze visibly scoured up my skinny, faded blue jeans and cowgirl-like blouse which was screening a white camisole.

  “Something like that,”––he gestured with a tip of his brow toward my body––“shouldn’t work with that thing you have on your head.”

  My head low, I focused on my feet and silently chided myself for disappointing him yet again.

  God, Kady, what the fuck is wrong with you, it shouldn’t be hard to keep your man happy.

  He took slow, deliberate steps, his hands loosely resting inside the pockets of his dark grey pants. His hair slicked, his jaw clean shaven, he looked just as delicious as he did the first day I saw him, the day when he watched me––appraising me––as I danced for him in a room of twenty other people. And that approving expression he wore just over three years ago was being honed again.

  My body spawned exhilarating shudders as his hand left his pocket and enticingly swept down the side of my neck, to the curve of my shoulder. “But it does,” he whispered, his tongue caressing his liking, before lowering himself and slanting his lips over mine. He took what he wanted, with tongues delving into the other’s mouths, sweeping and caressing as they spiraled around one another in sweet, agonizing torment. Each time he kissed me like that, I’d be catapulted back to the many decadent times where he would ravage my core with that skillful tongue. The flicks, the twisting, the gentle sucking which he was performing on my tongue sent messages of desire and familiarity through my entire body.

  Candy being taken away from a baby was the only way I could describe it when he pulled away from me, allowing me to softly pant and gasp for air after his tongues invasion. Slowly, his hand rose, resembling the cautiousness of reaching out to a timid animal. I winced and screwed my lids closed as his fingers softly brushed around the wound above my left eye. It was the grunt-like noise which vibrated from his throat which prompted my lashes to leave the arch of my cheekbone and flutter open. When I did, I was greeted by firm lips set in a line and a lifetime full of remorse in his green and blue speckled eyes. Hand falling away from the wound, he cradled the side of my face. “You still look, sexy as fuck, baby.”

  His tender words were what encouraged my smile. But almost immediately, the smile of appreciation broadened into a megawatt beam as he accepted my hand and, with interest, granted me the action of brushing my touch up and down his torso. “Thank you,” I breathed, and even I could detect the profundity of need coating my shaking voice. “What’s happened here?” I asked when my fingers unexpectedly slipped through a gap in his black shirt. Applying space between us, I arched my back over the unit which harbored the kitchen sink, and glanced down the length of his body.

  Not one button, but two buttons he fumbled with threading through the clasp, as he explained, “Those damn boxes. They must have hooked beneath and popped them free. I didn’t even notice.” Once the task was complete, he lifted his head to gaze at me dead on, his lips twitching in the corners. “It’s lucky you’re wearing a camisole under that. I wouldn’t be impressed if the new neighbors caught a peek at my woman’s body.” His hands roamed the outline of my figure, cinching my waist. “This body is all mine to do as I please, and I plan on pleasing a lot tonight…”

  I cocked my head. “Tonight?” I asked meekly.

  “We have a living room, dining room, enormous kitchen––with an island––two bedrooms, an en-suite and a flight of stairs to christen, baby. I hope you’re ready.”

  With that deep, weighted anticipation that was bubbling away at high heat in my gut at those words, all apprehension dissolved. I found that I was suddenly feeling very excited about the move after all.

  Chapter Eight

  I knew it. I just knew it. The name was a giveaway and the eerie quietness of the streets, on a Monday afternoon as we drove through Bricksdale, had my speculations confirmed. And at that point, my inner high school cheerleader was waving her pompoms and flouncing about like an idiot. I cringed. Dear God, did I really used to look like that?

  With the blender on my lap, I gazed out the window, and in silence, studied the area rapidly passing by. The road was divided: either continue straight ahead or turn right into a square. A white chapel with a bell-tower stood in the center dominating the enclave, whilst the assortment of edifices
outlined the vicinity. It seemed quiet, but it also seemed to…happy. I half expected one of three things: ‘Mr. Sandman’ to begin playing from one of the diners that had a human-size ice-cream cone figure, topped with pink swirly ice-cream waiting beside the entrance, women to stroll along wearing tiny sweaters, silk neckerchiefs’ and flared, high-waist skirts with poodles on them, or, the residence to turn all crazed when the bell hanging in the tower, chimed at a specific time. For a fleeting moment, the latter of my imagination had me feeling somewhat indebted to Liam for making me watch those horror movies. At least now I knew that if the new house was to be invaded by possessed lunatics, to run out of the house instead of up the stairs.

  Five minutes later, we were ascending a tree-lined street with various different colored detached houses. We began to decelerate, and within passing a few more houses, Liam soon turned into an inclined driveway alongside a large white, detached property with bay-windows on both levels, and a round window at the attic.

  An attic? A shudder paved its way from my scalp to the tips of my toes. I’d never taken kindly to attics. There’s something sinister about them which I could never quite shift.

  Shifting the car into park, Liam turned off the ignition. “Ta-da,” he sang, waving his arms towards the property like some Game Show host revealing the grand prize. “So, what do you think?”

  What did I think? I was thinking I really didn’t want to move in the first place. I especially didn’t want to move somewhere where it felt like I was in some kind of fifties horror movie, and I most certainly didn’t want to move somewhere where there was a fucking attic with a round window, I’d seen American Haunting. I really wished he’d have talked to me about this first; we could have done this together. Instead, I felt like a sullen teen, my thoughts and feelings irrelevant as I got ripped from the family home and high school to be thrown in somewhere new.