Blood In The Stars

by Jennifer Shea

  Ragged robes in the form of a woman appeared. The face remained hidden in the hood as the creature stumbled back, holding what was left of her arm. Banshees traveled in packs. Where were the others?

  Even as the question entered his mind, he felt them close in.

  “Hold on to me!” he urged Daria, and bent back, still clutching her tightly as a wave of coldness brushed over them. He pivoted and swiped low across the empty air. Another scream shattered the night as a leg split off from the banshee before turning to dust.

  There were two others but he felt them draw away, until their presence vanished into the darkness.

  Jason turned to Daria. The blood had drained from her face and a cold sweat gleamed across her forehead leaving her complexion pasty and damp. He sheathed his sword and held her in his arms. She stared off into space, eyes glassy and blank.

  “Daria!” He gripped her. Ice had kissed her skin, covering it in an arctic chill. He shook her, trying to bring her back to him. But she continued to gaze out into emptiness.

  Despite his maneuvering, a banshee had still touched her. A banshee’s touch numbed the victim’s senses and drained their warmth. As the victims grew colder, their life seeped out, leaving them immobile until death took over.

  She felt even colder than before. Jason pressed her tightly against his body. “Daria,” he breathed. “Come back to me. I know you can hear me.”

  The fog retreated from her eyes, replaced by some focus. She blinked up at him, confusion marking her face. “J—Jason?”

  Good. At least some of her senses remained. He cupped her cheeks in his hands.

  “Why . . . am I so . . . cold?” she stuttered.

  Jason gritted his teeth. He had only one alternative. She’d probably kill him for it. Better that than watching her die.

  “Can you move?” he cried. “Look at me, dammit!”

  Fear brightened her eyes briefly before her lids sagged in exhaustion. “N—no,” she whimpered.

  He scooped her up and raced down the hall to her bedroom. Then he set her on the bed and hesitated, biting his lip. Would she forgive him after he saved her life?

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “This is the only way.”

  Talking would help her concentrate on staying awake. What he planned to do might also come as less of a shock.

  Jason loosened his tie before yanking it off. Her eyes flared when he began to unbutton his shirt.

  “Please don’t be angry with me. You’ve been touched by a banshee.” He kept his voice calm, so as not to alarm her further. But in his mind, he counted down the frighteningly short time she had left before succumbing to the banshees’ touch.

  Her lips parted as though to say something but no words came out. He wasn’t sure if she couldn’t or if she chose not to.

  Jason shrugged out of his shirt. When he reached down for his belt buckle, blood rushed to her cheeks. At least her circulation functioned.

  “The banshee’s touch will drain warmth from its victims. I could throw you into a tub of hot water, but your skin is much too cold for that right now. The water would grow frigid before you ever got warm. It’s also like people who get hypothermia. You have to warm them up slowly.”

  Unfortunately, they didn’t have time for slow. He estimated half an hour at the most before he’d lose her. The blush on her face meant that at least some warmth stayed within her body. He needed to take it further.

  He stepped out of his pants and stood in his boxers. Her eyes, the only part of her body that seemed active and mobile, trailed across his shoulders and then followed the ridges of his abs. Lower they went and suddenly they stilled. She gasped and her eyes flew back to his. The hint of pink on her cheeks deepened to red.

  Jason stifled the groan in his throat. Though she hadn’t moved from her position, the expression in her eyes had pushed him to a state of arousal that bulged beneath the last layer of decency he wore. She affected him as no woman ever had. He swallowed hard, as though that could push down his pounding heart that threatened to leap from his chest.

  “I’m going to undress you,” he said hoarsely. He peeled off her sweater and shirt and then lifted her to pull off her jeans, keeping her underwear on. When he stepped back, he caught a glimpse of her smoldering eyes before she looked down demurely. His heart wrenched. This wasn’t how he imagined their first time in bed together.

  He threw aside the blanket and laid Daria down. Her knees bent as though she still sat and Jason knew her limbs needed time to thaw. So he slid down behind her, goose bumps rising over his body at her coldness, and pulled the comforter over them. Enveloping her in his arms, he tucked her head beneath his chin.

  She fit perfectly next to him and for a second, he forgot that her life hung by a thread, that he was there to save her, and that monsters waited around every corner to kill her. Only the feel of her soft skin against his, her unique scent surrounding him, and the gentle sound of her breathing filled his senses.

  “Daria? Are you still with me?”

  After a short pause that left his heart constricting with foreboding, she whispered, “Yes.”

  “I’m going to massage your legs to get the circulation flowing.” Without waiting for consent, his hand smoothed over her flat stomach, caressed the curve of her hips and paused at her thighs. He kneaded the muscles along her legs, from her hips to as far as his hand could reach.

  Jason shifted his body so Daria lay partially under him. She gasped when his arousal grazed her. “Sorry,” he grunted, reaching for her calves and massaging them. He encircled her ankle and rubbed his palm along her feet. Then he repeated the action.

  “It’s okay,” she assured in a tiny rasp.

  He stilled, surprised to hear his heart thundering in his ears. Instead of embarrassment and cursing the day she ever met him, she thought to comfort him. It only made him want her more.

  “Try to move,” he urged, his tongue feeling as thick as molasses. “Wiggle your toes.”

  He felt a slight twitch against his hand and was relieved to know his ministrations had taken effect. “We need to straighten this leg. Put all the energy you have into doing that and I’ll help you.” Using gentle and consistent pressure, Jason pushed her leg down. She whimpered in protest. “Sweetheart, please try to move. I know you want to sleep, but you have to fight it.”

  After much effort and he didn’t know how much time, they managed to straighten her legs. Sweat dampened her brow and he wiped it away with the back of his hand as he hovered over her.

  “You did great.” He knew the pain she must have endured. Most preferred to die than to fight the banshee’s touch. But not Daria. She’d fight because she was a survivor. “How are you feeling?”

  “Warmer. My arms . . .” When he began to move off her, she protested. “Stay.” Her downcast eyes lifted to meet his. “I like you . . . on top.”

  Jason blinked, unsure if he heard correctly. Her eyes remained steady on his, letting him know she meant what she said.

  He leaned on his elbows, his body still an inch from touching hers. His forehead rested against her shoulder and he rasped in pain and longing, “I’m trying so hard to be a gentleman.”

  “Don’t.” Her breath seared his neck.

  The heat in her eyes scorched him. He couldn’t hold back another second. Jason sank onto her, enjoying the feel of her soft breasts against him. He engulfed her in a kiss and she sighed when their lips met. Though she couldn’t move her body, her mouth responded to him and she licked his lower lip. Gently, he sought her tongue, savoring its texture against his own. His hands didn’t remain idle, working to warm her upper body. He slid his palms down her arms, massaging them from shoulder to fingertips.

  He had told himself he wouldn’t take advantage of her. She couldn’t move, was barely coherent. Yet the desire in her
eyes and voice nearly undid him. So he indulged in this transgression, loving the continuation of their kiss, reveling in the caress of her silken body. No matter how much he wanted her, he knew he couldn’t have her. Not tonight.

  He traced kisses along her jaw and nuzzled her neck. “Put your arms around me,” he growled as he nipped her earlobe.

  She sighed again. When she didn’t move, he leaned back, straddling her. Her eyes called to him but he wouldn’t help her. She had to do it herself.

  “If you want to touch me, you have to lift your arms. Try to lift your arms,” he commanded.

  Her lips pursed and the desire coursing through her veins had turned her skin rosy. He was sure her body had warmed. Why wasn’t she moving?

  Then, inch by inch, her arms lifted. When they were at an angle from the bed, she stopped, her face scrunched in pain.

  “I know it hurts, darling, but you have to try. Focus on me. Look only at me.”

  Tears brimmed her eyes and she swallowed hard, biting at her lower lip. Eyes locked on his, she continued to raise her arms until they hovered mere inches from his face.

  “Good girl,” he praised, leaning down and embracing her. With jerky movements, her hands managed to close around his neck and she plowed her fingers through his hair as if to anchor herself.

  He swept her into another hard kiss. Confident that her mobility was returning, his hand roamed up her delicious legs and cupped her round bottom. “Put your legs around me.”

  “Too heavy,” she pouted. He looked at her in confusion. “My legs feel too heavy.”

  Jason shifted away and raised her leg to kiss the sensitive skin alongside her knee, tracing little circles with his tongue before planting kisses up the tender skin to her inner thigh. She moaned. Then he pulled down her panties, found her womanly core, and flicked his tongue across it.

  “Oh, God.”

  He slid a finger inside her tender flesh and her sharp intake of breath was all the encouragement he needed. He slipped in another finger and began to move them. Her hips rose reflexively.

  “Tell me what you want,” he coaxed.

  “You,” she gasped. “I want you.”

  He withdrew his hand. “Then you have to move.” He climbed out of bed and the sudden onslaught of cold air tamed his ardor. He stood a foot away. “Come to me, Daria.”

  She glared at him and Jason tried not to laugh at her frustration. “I’m waiting for you.”

  With what seemed like monumental effort, Daria managed to push herself to a sitting position. She wiggled her toes but made no attempt to stand. She had been so quiet, so docile through the entire ordeal that Jason wondered what scathing barrage of curses she had waiting for him when she recovered fully. Because he knew better than anyone that Daria was anything but the compliant female.

  “What do I get if I come to you?” she asked.

  A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Though she still fought off the last remnants of the banshee’s touch, she’d already begun to bargain with him.

  “What do you want?” he asked, amused by the provocative question.

  “Two things. I want the truth. No lies. I want to know everything.”

  He nodded. When the banshees came for her, he’d already decided to tell her everything. “Done.”

  Then she gave him a shy, sweet smile. “And I want you.”

  If he wasn’t worried about her losing the use of her legs forever, he would have pushed her down on the bed and taken her right there. It sapped every ounce of his willpower to not only stand his ground, but also to step back and wait for her.

  “I want you so much it hurts,” he said thickly. He tried to swallow but his mouth had gone dry. “But we cannot mate. Not tonight.”

  Confusion, then determination crossed her brow. She circled her ankles and tried to bend her knees. Long seconds trickled by as she tested her legs. When she had moved them to her satisfaction, she tentatively put her weight down on one foot and then the other.

  She fell. Jason caught her before she hit the floor and Daria threw him an apologetic grin. “Thanks.”

  He swept the hair away from her face. “I would never let you fall.”

  Jason helped her stand and after a minute, she moved her feet without his help.

  “Wonderful!” he cried, like a proud father at his child’s first step.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and swung her in a circle. Finally. They had fought off the banshee’s touch. When he eased her feet back to the floor, he squeezed her to him, pressing her cheek against his chest. His heart wrenched to think of how close she had come to death.

  “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.” He held her tighter. “Don’t ever leave me, Daria.”

  Chapter 7

  With her breasts flattened against his bare chest and his throbbing desire rubbing against her stomach, part of Daria drowned in mortification while the rest of her wanted Jason as she had never wanted any man. Just thinking about what she had said to him shocked her.

  Maybe it was because she thought she was going to die. So to hell with modesty.

  She remembered the high-pitched shrieks from that evening when her parents drove through the mountains returning from their trip to a national park. As the car rounded a wide bend, she heard them. They came from far away at first, like the soft cry of an infant. Yet the sound grew louder, multiplying to dozens of piercing screeches that raised the hair on her neck and sent fear into her bones. The screams surrounded their car until it was all she heard.

  The shrieks followed her everywhere after that night. She heard them in her dreams. She heard them when she woke. She just never thought she’d hear them eleven years later in Chicago.

  Like the first time, everything tonight went by in a blur. A headache had pounded in her head while Jason swept her away from a decaying woman who appeared in front of her. Icy fingers brushed her throat. Then coldness had invaded her body, sucking away all the heat she held inside.

  She’d wanted to sleep so very much. To keep the cold at bay. Then Jason’s voice filtered through the haze, cutting across her slumber. His urgency and desperation told her she couldn’t sleep, and it took all her effort to stay awake for him.

  When he lifted her in his strong arms, she suddenly realized she had lost sensation in her body. She couldn’t feel his arm on her back or the hard curve of his chest. When they got to her room, though alarm bells rang like crazy in her mind, Daria knew she was helpless to resist.

  Not that she wanted to resist the surprise striptease. Her face burned at the memory. His beautiful, rippling shoulder and chest muscles, his abs carved from marble, the powerful thighs, and his desire for her that grew as she stared at him. Her belly warmed and she unconsciously pressed herself closer to him.

  “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. Don’t ever leave me, Daria.”

  Her stomach somersaulted at the ache in his tender words. She knew he didn’t really mean ever. Jason said it because she had just escaped death’s door. Yet a piece of her heart wanted him to mean it.

  Despite the weight still dragging on her limbs, she managed to wind her arms around his neck. He was so tall that she had to lean back to gaze at him fully. Passion and authority glittered in his golden eyes.

  “Stay with me always.”

  Ever. Always. Never. He spoke in absolutes and the possessiveness underlying his endearments sent her heart racing, careening toward a finish line that held the unknown.

  She was a woman in control of her life. It had gotten her this far. She’d had boyfriends in the past calling her their girl. The skin-deep words never affected her and, quite the opposite, annoyed the independent woman inside. She was no one’s.

  So his words should have angered her or even scared her and sent her running for the hills. But sh
e stayed because oddly, she found them charming. Nothing about them seemed chauvinistic or domineering. A quiet need, a subtle yearning framed them as fact. He spoke in truths.

  The intensity in his eyes contrasted with the easygoing guy she had met at the sports bar last night and was the antithesis of the man who had chatted with her over takeout. The man before her now emanated raw power and wasn’t someone who took ‘no’ for an answer. If he wanted something, he reached out his hands and took it.

  This strong, vibrant man wanted her. It thrilled her. And scared her.

  He cupped her face. “Let me take care of you and protect you.”

  Daria tried to breathe but she managed only a shallow intake of air. She couldn’t think like this, not when the lower half of her body fantasized about very different things.

  “You said you wanted me. I’m yours.”

  She melted at his sweet confession that blew away her doubts and reservations. He was hers. She breathed in his unique scent, letting it surround her, amazed that this man humbled himself so.

  Jason must have sensed he had won the single-sided argument and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her back to bed. Daria reached for him when he lay down beside her but was surprised when all he did was hold her close.

  “I owe you an explanation,” he said.

  Her heart skipped. She had heard everything he had said. Banshees had touched her, freezing her almost to the point of death. They were once figments of her imagination as a result of her survivor’s guilt. Now they had a name.

  Elation should have flooded her and sent her cheering and shouting to the rooftops that the stupid therapists were wrong. But she felt nothing. Felt numb.

  “I’ve seen them before.”

  He nodded. “With your parents. When you were sixteen, banshees came for you. They killed your parents but you survived.” He paused. “I blasted in from the left side window, yanked you out of your seat, and flew out the right as the car crashed. That’s why the cops found you with a diagonal bruise across your chest.”