by Nara Malone
She tried to ride it out. The chills passed and heat spread again. With the heat, the gnawing in her pussy grew intolerable.
She crawled to the candle, blew it out and grabbed it from the holder. The scald of hot wax over her fingers nothing compared to the burn inside. She was on her knees, rubbing her fevered pussy with the candle.
“Marcus,” she hissed. “Fucking silver-eyed satan.”
“I thought I was a monk.”
That wasn’t her imagination. She was sure of it. She paused, looking around, her breath coming in quick pants. The room was completely dark now. She was past the point of caring if his voice was real. She needed to hear it.
“I need you,” she whimpered.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart. You can do this.”
She felt, or imagined convincingly, his lips pressing a kiss to her shoulder. His fingers running through her hair.
“This feels so real,” she said, eyes wide open. “But you aren’t really here.” Where she’d been afraid to see the impossible before, she was afraid she wouldn’t see him now.
“Paint the picture with your intention, Allie. Visualize what you want with a clarity that allows you to step inside the scene and make it come to life. Scent is the most powerful of senses. Use scent as the pigment to paint a new reality.”
She inhaled the sensual combination of cinnamon, licorice, melting wax and her own desire. A signature incense blended from all their encounters. Desire knifed through her. She could only rock on her knees and whimper.
“You’re bigger than this challenge,” he said.
“No I’m not,” she sobbed. “God. Fuck. I can’t do this alone, Marcus.”
“Then make me real. You have to get us that far. Gather me from your memories. Use the candle. Start there. It’s my hands guiding it where you need to feel me.”
He didn’t want to frighten her, but he couldn’t continue to watch and not come to her aid. He wasn’t sure what factors allowed his presence there. Maybe a mate in need. Maybe something specific to their natures that went beyond traditional Pantherian abilities. His body was in a bed in another town, he could recall stepping out and looking down at it, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept. Jake had been dozing in a chair next to the bed, one of Adam’s babies draped over his shoulder. He’d walked to the basement lab and stepped through the mirror portal and out of the mirror in Allie’s wardrobe.
While he didn’t have the strength to lift an eyelid in his human body, he felt lighter and more powerful now. He wasn’t dead and he wasn’t on the shifting plane. As far as he could guess this was astral projection, a vestigial version of shifting some humans retained. His presence here was connected to Allie’s need for him, to the latent powers the rituals were opening.
He hadn’t expected this small lesson to impact her to the degree it had. He could feel the agony of a female in heat pulsing in the room. Not true biological heat. A chemically induced mating drive, possibly some allergic hypersensitivity to something in the Pantherian fire oil. Possibly he’d overdone it with the absinthe when he’d mixed that bottle. The physical symptoms manifested were classic. She needed a mate and she needed him now.
He was determined to ease the suffering he caused if it killed him. He was aware that in his weakened state it might. The only alternative being that he try to regain enough consciousness to send someone to her. But then he was left with the matter of whom. Jake and Seth were Yeti. Ben’s and his boys were lupine. Adam and Ean were mated to Marie. He didn’t know what Allie was. All indications were feline. He could be any species he chose, therefore he was her only option. And while it went against everything he’d been raised to believe, he didn’t want to share her. He wanted Allie to himself. He wanted to always be her only option.
She was in the most submissive of poses now, shoulders to the floor, hips raised in offering to her mate.
Mating fever worked like a drug on the mind. She thought him an apparition. Technically he was. If he could raise her vibrational state a little higher, get her to a translucent state close to his current vibration, he would feel real to her. He could use her hard, use up the fever crawling through her body. After he broke its hold, he could leave her to her dreams.
She’d feel the effects of one hell of a hangover in the morning, but he couldn’t do much about that. He’d be lucky to survive getting her past the crisis of tonight.
“You need me?” he asked. “Do you need me enough to see me, even if you don’t understand how it’s possible?”
“I don’t know,” she moaned. She turned her head, to one side and then the other, squinting into the darkness.
“Show me how much you need me, Allie.” He squatted behind her, mindsight showing him a clearer view than he’d have with physical eyes. He pussy was swollen, glistening. He couldn’t touch her in a way she’d feel. Not yet. Without a body he couldn’t grasp a physical object. She had to get herself across the threshold before he could help.
“Put the candle where you want me most, Allie.” Her fingers tightened around the shaft, the warm wax giving a bit under the pressure.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “Please, Marcus. Can’t we skip the games and lessons and just do it?”
“Do this one thing for me first, baby. Do it for me,” he said. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? Those lips all dewy and plump. An invitation. I want to watch you just like this, offering yourself in the sweetest pose a woman can present to her lover, teasing pleasure from that swollen pearl. I want to see you sliding that fat candle up and down in your pussy, just the way you want me to fuck you.”
The lips of her pussy quivered. Her entire body trembled with the effort it took her to resist.
“You’re not real? This is a dream?”
“It’ll be what you want it to be, Allie. What you need it to be. If you want it to be real, you know what you have to do.”
She pressed the base of the candle between her nether lips. Moaned as it sank in. He watched her muscles squeeze and felt her heat engulf him as if he were inside her. He wished he could see inside her mind to know what mental image had created that sensation. She started to move her hand. A hesitant dip in, then drawing out. She angled her head to look behind her, her gaze zeroing in on his position. Her pupils narrowed.
“I see smoke,” she whispered.
“Where, there’s smoke—”
“Shut up,” she spat.
He loved it when she got her fur up.
As the primal drive to mate burned hotter with each stroke, fanning the flames, her body glowed, the aura around her cycling through the colors from red right up to white. When the climax hit and she stifled her cries in the folds of his shirt, she went translucent. The candle slipped from her grasp.
Marcus took his place behind her, dragging her hips back, thrusting inside as they flickered in and out of physical reality.
He ran one finger along her spine and she mewed, pressing back against him. Her juices dribbled over his cock.
“Almost there, baby,” he said. “Come for me now.”
She did. Her catcall of pleasure shielded by the flickering vibration of her body, taking the sound above the level of human hearing. But Marcus heard it. Every anguished note crawled up and down his spine.
He grabbed her hair in one hand, her hip in the other, and slammed inside her, unleashing another pantherish scream from her. Humans compared the sound of a big cat screaming to a woman screaming. They found the sound unsettling. He wondered what they’d say if they could hear a Pantherian female mating, a cry that resonated from teeth to toes, throbbed in the bones. Sucked everything from a male’s mind but a drive to satisfy his mate.
He drove into her. Slammed into her, pushing her from one climax to the next. Reveling in the fact that as the stones had kept her earthbound last night, his astral body held her to this limbo world between real and not. He could fuck her through eternity without risk of shifting either of them. Draining away the mat
ing fever in a constant stream of orgasms. Each sucking his energy a little more than the last.
When he finally let her slip back to the physical plane, into her body curled asleep on the rag rug, he was barely substantial enough to transfer through the portal. He wondered how he’d summon the strength to crawl back inside his skin.
He slipped away without a word, while she slept. Hating himself for it. He wished he could draw a blanket over her to keep her warm, or bathe her sweaty body and tuck her in bed. The tug of his body called him back. Demanded his return, a weight dragging him through the portals and into his human skin.
The crushing pain that greeted his return was enough to force his eyes open. Baby Marisa was on the bed beside him, shifted to her tiger form, a behavior her parents had unsuccessfully discouraged. He didn’t have the strength to rub her ears. She was watching him with that thoughtful wise-baby stare of hers, tail twitching as she contemplated. Her sympathetic mew told him she guessed how far gone he was. He had a sense of foreboding when she crept close. He couldn’t stop her before she touched her nose to his. The power in that connection nearly turned him to cinders, made a lightning bolt seem as insubstantial as a firefly. He burst onto the shifting plane and reappeared in the bed, feeling charred on the inside and shattered without.
Her mother must have come in during the display. He heard her calling him and his son, alternating frantically between names. Marcus wanted to reassure her he was fine. He wasn’t fine enough to pull it off and lost the fight to stay conscious.
* * * * *
When she woke up stiff from sleeping on the floor, Allie’s first thought was that she needed to get back on that bus out of town and stay there this time. It wouldn’t solve anything though.
The room tilted when she sat. Her head felt as if it had a drum band playing inside. She collected the contents of the lesson box and stowed them. Her memories of last night were vague, scattered flashes. She thought she recalled Marcus there, but the apartment door was still locked and she couldn’t imagine him leaving her to spend the night on the floor.
She had three basic needs—aspirin, a shower and coffee. Once those had been dealt with she hoped the world would make sense again.
It didn’t.
She had to think on the move, already running so late there was no time to stop at the diner for breakfast. Franny would worry. Allie would call her from the office. She grabbed her purse and the canvas tote she kept stocked with minimal sketching supplies should inspiration hit when she was at lunch. The lesson box was back on her desk. For a reason she couldn’t explain, she wanted it with her. Or maybe she just wanted it out of her apartment. She slid it inside her tote. She’d figure out why later.
Chapter Nine
Each day Allie hoped for some sign from Marcus. She jumped at each phone call, at the stir of air signaling someone opening her office door. And at home the slam of a car door or footsteps on the sidewalk set her heart racing. He didn’t contact her. She had tried once more to reach Jake and talk to Maya, only to receive a repetition of the same vague and evasive answers she’d gotten the first time. There was nothing left to do but assume he didn’t want her to find him and had decided he didn’t want to see her. Even in the blunt face of rejection, even knowing what happened was probably a game to him, part of her couldn’t let go. There was an explanation other than the logical. She could feel it in her bones.
She told herself she was done with Marcus and his rituals. She didn’t have the courage to lift the lid on the lesson box, yet she kept it with her, carrying it in her tote when she left the apartment.
Each night found her on her knees, repeating the practice he’d outlined for her the first night. Kneeling naked for ten minutes, imagining light on her skin was Marcus touching her.
Each day found her more aware of people she knew, and beyond that it was as if her five senses had started to sort themselves out. Her ability to experience aromas as scent seemed to expand and the taste of them receded. She could wear subtle colors without feeling as if her clothes were crawling over her skin.
The explanation for Marcus’ disappearance, when it did come, was not from Marcus. On day three Elaine directed a grim-looking gentleman in a baggy brown suit to Allie’s office.
“Allie, Detective Snodgrass wants to speak with you. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”
Some children grew up in a lifestyle and world where they were taught police were their friend. In the world Allie came from, the sight of a uniform spelled doom. Plainclothes officers were bigger doom. The tightening of ranks, the aura of dread that permeated any room an officer entered came back to her now. She bit her lower lip to quell a tremor. It didn’t help that Elaine had suggested her presence might be needed at some point.
“Nice day,” the detective said. He was looking pointedly at a chair beside Allie’s desk. She didn’t invite him to sit.
She glanced toward the window, bright sunshine and a brilliant blue sky. She couldn’t suppress the sensation that a storm cloud had moved into her office with the officer and was getting ready to rain all over her day. It must have something to do with Eddie, or perhaps they had somehow discovered her manufactured identity. Maybe Elaine had and called them.
Allie looked back to the officer. Her mind couldn’t form any words. Don’t say anything to cops had been drilled into her from toddlerhood. It had been beaten into those of Eddie’s call girls who forgot that cardinal rule. She waited for the officer to fill in the silence.
He seemed to be waiting as well. He blinked first. “I need to know where you were Tuesday night, Ms. Summers.”
Her mouth was too dry for words. She’d moved her hands under the drawing table, fisted them in her lap. The drawing pencil tangled in her fingers snapped, the sound loosened her tongue as if that might hide what had happened.
“I was on a photo shoot.”
“Can you give me a timeframe?”
Cold dread deepened. She had a soft, blue sweater on the back of her chair, her skin was crawling where her bare arm touched the cotton. Goose bumps rose on her arms. Timeframes were traps. She wasn’t willingly walking into one.
She shrugged. “I lose track of the time when I’m into my work.”
“Was someone with you who can verify how long?”
“Do you want to tell me why it matters?”
“It’s nothing serious. I’m investigating a situation and I think information you have may be useful.”
“I’m not interested in answering any more questions.”
“Sounds like you have something to hide.”
“It sounds like you’re looking for someone to pin something on.” The words were bolder than the shaking voice she used to deliver them.
“I’m going to have to ask you to come along with me to the station until we can get this sorted out. Do you have a purse or jacket you’d like to bring?”
Allie thought of her purse in her big desk drawer. It had her phone with all the numbers of anyone she might call for help. Seth’s business card was tucked in her wallet, right behind her fake driver’s license. Allie didn’t even know how to drive. If they were fishing for evidence of a crime, she wasn’t going to hand them the rod to reel her in with. She shook her head and pushed to her feet. Her legs felt so insubstantial, she had to look to make sure they were still there. How was she going to walk out there past all her coworkers without dissolving, without bursting into tears and begging this man not to take her to jail?
Put yourself outside it, Eddie had taught her. When you’re afraid, put up a wall of ice between you and the threat. Go for cold, for numb they can’t penetrate.
Detective Snodgrass pointed at the sweater she’d draped over the back of her chair. “It’s cool out yet.”
Maybe he said it to make her think he cared. Maybe he was really concerned about her well-being. Allie didn’t dare let that much warmth penetrate her shield. She looked away as if she hadn’t heard and walked past, knowing he must see the jelly
bean-sized goose bumps on her arms.
She could hear heads turn, feel gazes skimming over her as she walked through the main office and out past the front counter. She kept her eyes down as they passed Lila’s desk. She didn’t want her friends involved.
Lila was not the sort to be ignored. “Are you arresting Allie? What for?”
“Step aside, ma’am.”
“Allie?”
“This doesn’t concern you,” the detective said.
Allie couldn’t look, couldn’t acknowledge. She kept her head down, pushed open the glass door and kept going. Detective Snodgrass stepped up his pace to stay with her.
Lila’s voice, shrill now, followed her out onto the sidewalk. “Elaine, get your ass out—” The door closing spared Allie hearing the rest.
He pointed to his car and Allie waited, docile, as he opened the door.
Behind her, Elaine and Lila burst out the door.
“You stop right there, Allie,” Lila screamed loud enough to be heard two blocks down. Elaine came running, her heels stabbing the pavement, a sharp clacking that reverberated in Allie’s bones. Allie closed her eyes. This was so hopeless. They knew about her. She could tell by the way the cop had looked at her. He knew everything.
“Ron, what’s this? Why are you arresting Allie? You said you wanted to ask who she’d given her business cards to.”
Allie’s head came up. Business cards? This had nothing to do with Eddie? Allie had given away exactly two cards. One to Maya and one to Marcus. Even if she had no interest in protecting Marcus, openly talking to cops was always a lose. She knew that. Every child over the age of three in the neighborhood she came from knew that. Allie said nothing and the officer planted himself between her and Elaine.
Allie risked a glance at Lila. Lila made a dialing motion and mouthed Franny’s name. Allie glanced quickly to the officer’s back and the mouthed back, Lawyer, Seth. Lila frowned. Snodgrass was turning back to her and Allie ducked into the car. He told her to buckle up and closed the door. But she wasn’t handcuffed, which she thought meant she wasn’t under arrest. Yet.