As it was, she never knew from one day to the next when Anka might disappear as abruptly and completely as if he’d never been with her at all. She would have had trouble with any kind of relationship simply because she wasn’t emotionally equipped to handle them. She had little experience with any sort of relationship. Anka was not even human, though, and she couldn’t even apply the little she knew about her fellow man to him. There might be no real rhyme or reason to the things he did, but even if there were it seemed likely to be outside her understanding.
He seemed to think it would be, anyway.
At any rate, she had enough trouble adjusting to the fact that she never knew what Anka would look like when she saw him. She’d only just begun to grow accustomed to the blond Germanic Anka, and now he was Seminole—she thought—definitely an American Indian, anyway. And far stronger willed than the Germanic man, Gaby suspected, completely unsettled every time she glanced at the man and saw him looking back at her with his nearly black eyes.
Except for the fact that he was roughly the same size, weight, and build as Anka, and hailed from a similar gene pool, there was really very little resemblance between the host and Anka, but in some ways it was still easier to accustom herself to the man, because he did remind her of Anka. She had discovered early on that the eyes were the true mirrors, however. Anka’s eyes were green and whenever he looked out of the man’s eyes, they had the greenish hue.
If they were completely dark, it wasn’t Anka staring at her, and it was very hard to get any sense of the emotions behind those dark eyes.
She was certain that it was a given that he wasn’t happy about the situation, particularly since it seemed obvious to her that there was a great struggle for dominance between them.
What she wasn’t certain of was how he felt about her. Did he blame her for the situation? Did he feel violent toward her?
Or was she completely wrong in her estimation?
People were giving up more and more freedoms every day just to be watched over and taken care of. And more and more people were choosing to allow drugs to rule their lives. Maybe the average person didn’t really want control of their lives? Maybe yielding the responsibility to someone else and allowing them to do the ‘driving’ wasn’t as repugnant to the hosts Anka chose as she thought?
Maybe, and then again, maybe not. She couldn’t salve her conscience with that possibility, she discovered, because she just didn’t know.
* * * *
It occurred to Gaby with something akin to pure amazement as she left work that she and Anka had been together an entire month. The concept was so mind blowing she dragged her checkbook out of her purse to study her calendar once she’d settled in the car.
A whole month, she thought in wonder once she’d checked it.
She hadn’t shared a household with anyone for that length of time before!
“My how time flies when you’re having fun!” she muttered dryly, images flickering through her mind of all the ups and downs they’d had in the time since he’d moved in with her. A smile curled her lips after a moment, though. As rough as it had been, as much emotional turmoil, aggravation, and as many really scary moments as she’d experienced, there’d been a lot more that had been good—pleasant, amusing, comforting, sweet … and then there was the mind blowing passion.
Warmed by those thoughts, Gaby decided as she headed to the grocery store to get their weekly supplies that she would plan a special night to celebrate.
She had decided she would cherish what she could and try not to think about the uncertain future, and making the most of their time together should include a celebration for such an important milestone, as silly as she would have considered such a thing before.
A simple meal, she decided once she’d reached the supermarket. Anka was the one trying to master superior cuisine. She was barely competent in the kitchen. And, anyway, he liked steak.
Remembering that she didn’t have potatoes or salad at home as she neared checkout, she altered course and headed for the produce section. When she’d chosen the potatoes and a bag of mixed salad greens, she turned toward checkout again, but the flowers near the edge of the produce section caught her attention. Ordinarily, although she loved flowers, she barely gave them a glance, but it was a special night and that should include flowers. Unable to make up her mind, she grabbed a bundle of roses and a bouquet of mixed flowers.
She studied them as she waited her turn in checkout, still trying to decide which she should take home with her.
Good food—great sex. Roses. A smile curled her lips as she considered the effect of rose petals.
She decided to get both. If she was in luck, Anka wouldn’t be in the apartment when she got there and she would have the chance to set the stage for seduction. As often as not, these days, he was off somewhere doing something when she got home and came in later.
If he was there, she’d just tell him it was an urban ritual and make him wait in the living room while she beheaded the roses and strew rose petals everywhere.
Having settled the matter in her mind, she carefully placed both flower bundles in her buggy and began to mentally sort through her lingerie drawer to decide what to wear.
The sense of being watched finally penetrated her preoccupation as she reached the conveyor belt, and she looked up and around the store as she felt the prickle of uneasiness. Several people met her gaze as she glanced around, but she couldn’t see that that was anything more than their reaction to her looking at them.
Shaking the sensation off, she unloaded her buggy, paid for her purchases and headed for her car. The prickle washed over her again as she loaded the groceries in the car, but again, when she looked around, she didn’t see anyone.
She locked her car doors when she got inside, fiddling with her keys and glancing around as idly as she could manage, but she still didn’t catch sight of anyone who seemed particularly interested in her.
It didn’t matter, she told herself firmly. Even if there was anything to it beyond pure imagination, she was in the car. The doors were locked.
Maybe somebody had been eyeing the expensive items she’d put in her cart and thinking about snatching her purse, but they’d play hell chasing her down in the car to snatch it.
She decided on the way home to make a quick detour to the mall to grab a sexy nightie from her favorite lingerie shop. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have considered leaving groceries in the car for such a thing, but she hadn’t thought about getting something seductive before, and she figured it wouldn’t hurt to leave them such a short time. Getting out once she’d parked the car as close as she could, she locked the doors and dashed into the mall. The selection was better than she’d expected, making it harder to decide, but she finally eliminated the problem by buying all three of the slinky undie outfits she liked best.
She had her mind on the money she’d just frivolously dropped at the mall when she reached the apartment. Gathering up all the bags, she headed inside with them, her arms loaded and visibility impeded by the bags. At her door, she juggled the bags, her purse, and the keys, and finally managed to get the door unlocked.
Someone slammed into her as she pushed the door open. The blow sent her flying forward and bags in every direction. She hit the floor so hard she skidded several feet before she stopped moving. More stunned than hurt, it took her several moments to get her bearings, critical moments. Before she could gather herself to rise, someone grabbed a handful of hair at her scalp and wrenched her head upwards and around so sharply she felt a bone pop in her spine.
She stared blankly at the dark, twisted visage so close to her own. A flicker of recognition went through her.
“Putta!” the man snarled, using her hair to drag her to her feet. “Where’s the stuff?”
Gaby gaped at him, struggling against shock and pain to figure out what it was he was demanding. “What stuff?”
She didn’t see the fist coming. He punched her so hard in the jaw it wrenched her head si
deways and darkness enveloped her. Either he let go of her hair as he swung at her, or the force of the blow separated the hair from her scalp. She flew away from the punch, sprawling on the floor again. He followed her. Standing over her, he leaned down and punched her in the face several more times despite her ineffectual efforts to cover her head with her arms.
“Where’s your stash, bitch?”
She curled into a ball when he stopped hitting her. Uttering a growl of fury and frustration, he commenced to kicking her, slamming his booted feet into her ribs and belly and back until she threw up. She couldn’t breathe. Her mind was totally wrapped up in the struggle to drag a breath of air into her lungs.
She wasn’t even aware, at first, when he stopped pounding on her. The pain and the fight to gasp in a little air consumed her. She choked when she finally managed to draw breath, coughing. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and she spat, wondering if she’d coughed up the blood or if her teeth had cut the inside of her mouth when he’d been punching her in the face.
He was insane, she thought wildly.
That thought clicked with the vague sense of recognition she’d had before.
It was the Hispanic man Anka had taken over that first time, she realized.
It took a tremendous effort to lift her head. She saw when she’d managed it that the man was taking the apartment apart—searching for something. Stuff? Stash?
He thought she had drugs, she realized.
Why would he think that, she wondered, completely bewildered?
She shook that thought off. He was preoccupied. It might be the only chance she had of escape. Even the fear was dulled by her shock, though, and it failed to lend her much strength.
She focused on the view she saw when she lifted her head, the open door of her bedroom—bedroom, door, lock, phone, police. The pain increased tenfold as she struggled to drag herself toward the door. Her progress was measured by inches.
Hurry! Hurry! She thought, unable to form anything but disjointed words in her mind, unable to complete more than the most simple, basic thoughts. Her head felt as if it would explode. Blood cloyed in her throat, choking her, making it almost impossible to drag in a breath without feeling as if she was drowning.
The man was muttering to himself in Spanish, cursing. Having emptied every drawer and shelf onto the floor, he grabbed the cushions off the sofa and chairs and began shredding them with a knife. The glimpse Gaby caught of the knife was enough to galvanize her when she’d reached the point of giving up. Gathering herself, she struggled to fend off the darkness threatening to overcome her and pushed herself a little further along the floor.
She’d almost reached the bedroom door when she heard him coming for her. She screamed when he jerked her off the floor and pitched her head first through the doorway of her bedroom. It wasn’t much of a scream. She couldn’t draw enough breath to produce much in the way of sound, and it was cut off abruptly when she hit the edge of the bed and rebounded onto the floor.
She curled up again, expecting him to begin pounding on her. Instead, he began to systematically tear the bedroom apart as he had the living room.
He would be back, she realized dimly, trying to focus her mind on survival.
The bathroom was the only possibility of sanctuary left.
Uncurling, she began trying to crawl toward the door.
He saw her. Apparently, he decided that must be where she’d hidden the ‘stash’ he was looking for. He ran at her, drawing his leg back and kicking her as hard as he could, as if he was trying to field goal her body. She grunted at the impact, began to whimper at the pain that made her feel as if her whole body was on fire.
The search of the bathroom didn’t last long. He was back in a moment. Dropping to his knees, he rolled her onto her back and straddled her. Leaning over her, he pressed the knife he still held against her throat. “Where’s the stuff, you fucking cunt?”
Gaby peered at him beneath her lashes. “No drugs,” she managed.
He bore down on the knife until she felt the burn. “Don’t lie to me, bitch! The shit you gave me last time I was here! Where is it?”
It coalesced in her mind. The ‘experience’ he’d had when Anka had seized control of his body had been a ‘high’ for him. He thought he’d had some kind of drug induced ‘trip’—and he’d liked it. He wanted another high.
The thoughts focused her mind on Anka for the first time since he’d attacked her.
“Anka!” she whispered. “Anka, come to me! Please, Anka! I need you!”
A look of confusion crossed the man’s features for a split second before rage replaced it. “I’ll gut you like a fish, you stupid bi ….”
Something slammed into him, sending him flying backwards.
Dizziness swept over Gaby as she felt herself being lifted from the floor, enveloped in a warm, gentle embrace. It took an effort to lift her head, but relief surged through her as she looked up into Anka’s eyes. “Anka,” she whispered, feeling gladness warm her.
Before she could say more, she felt fire spear through her. Shocked at the pain, she glanced down at the center of it as the Hispanic man withdrew the blade from her belly.
Anka glanced down, as well, consternation contorting his features for a split second before fury replaced it.
Darkness began to descend over Gaby and with it a profound coldness. She felt herself drifting downward like a feather floating on a whimsical breath of air. Dimly, as if from a great distance, she heard the man scream, heard a gurgling noise, the sickening crunch of bones shattering, and then silence.
She lifted toward awareness as she felt the gentle touch of a hand. It took an effort to open her eyes. “Gone?” she managed to ask through stiff, uncooperative lips.
“Shhh, Moonflower,” Anka crooned. “I will take away the hurt.”
She nodded, or thought she did. “Doesn’t hurt now. Cold,” she complained.
She thought she heard him swallow, then she felt his hands moving over her. Warmth began to displace the cold, slowly at first, and then more rapidly until she felt as if she was on fire. She moaned as the pain erupted again, became more intense.
Abruptly it ceased and she felt a sense of floating.
Anka, she discovered with a touch of surprise, was with her, a part of her. She could feel him as she’d never felt him before.
Am I dead? She wondered, not distressed by it particularly, merely curious … almost pleased as it occurred to her that now she was spirit as Anka was. And they were together.
No, my treasure.
I don’t understand.
I know, beloved. Be at peace. I am here now. I would that I could have prevented anything like this from ever touching you. I cannot change that it did, but I can and will take away all that is ugly and hurtful.
A sense of profound peace settled over her. And then there was nothingness.
Chapter Eleven
Gaby woke feeling like death warmed over. She lay staring at the darkened ceiling of her bedroom for a while, searching her mind for the reason she felt so badly, but no answer came to her. Finally, after glancing over at Anka’s sleeping form several times, she rolled out of the bed quietly and headed for the bathroom.
She felt—achy all over, as if she was coming down with a fever, or maybe had had a fever, but she couldn’t tell that she was the least bit over warm or detect any other symptoms that spelled the onset of a cold or flu and she certainly couldn’t remember having been sick.
She didn’t look sick, she decided after she’d examined her reflection in the mirror, just heavy eyed from sleeplessness.
When she’d used the bathroom, she took a bottle of aspirin from the cabinet and tapped a dose out into her palm, then headed into the kitchen to find something to wash the tablets down.
Something seemed ‘off’. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but something just didn’t feel quite as it should. Puzzled, she wandered around the darkened apartment, but she was no wiser when she�
��d checked everything.
She couldn’t remember going to bed, she realized.
After probing her memory for several moments, she finally produced the memory that she’d planned a surprise for Anka to celebrate their time together. Oddly enough, she couldn’t remember actually doing anything, though.
Anka, she discovered when she finally turned to head back to bed, had followed her. It gave her a start when she saw his dark form leaning against the bedroom door frame. She lifted her hand to her painfully hammering heart.
“You startled me,” she said quietly.
He pushed away from the door and moved toward her. Reaching her, he slipped his hands caressingly along her arms and finally took her hands in his. “You should rest, Moonflower,” he said caressingly, lifting her hands one at the time and placing a light kiss in the center of each palm.
Gaby smiled up at him teasingly. “You’re sure rest is what you have in mind?”
To her surprise, he merely pulled her lightly against his chest. Wrapping his arms around her, he cupped the back of her head, guiding her head to rest against his shoulder and then lightly stroked her hair and back. “Just now, yes,” he murmured, his voice husky with some emotion she couldn’t quite identify.
Vaguely disappointed at the answer, she allowed him to lead her back to bed.
He seemed in a strange mood, she thought, curling against him willingly enough when he merely cuddled her and told her to go to sleep.
She didn’t worry about it overmuch, then, but she couldn’t help but notice he seemed almost distant. Days passed, and he not only made no attempt to initiate sex between them, he firmly, if gently, refused her when she tried to steer him in that direction.
Confused and hurt by his strange behavior, Gaby wracked her brain to figure out what she’d done to cause it, but nothing at all came to mind.
They’d been together a full month, though, she realized after a while.
Maybe he’d realized he couldn’t make her fruitful?
Once that thought had jelled in her mind, she couldn’t shake it or the sense of impending doom it brought with it. The anxiety that caused her surpassed everything that had gone before. She went from expecting to find Anka waiting for her each time she returned home to expecting to find him gone.
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