Never Alone (43 Light Street)

by Rebecca York

  “I wish to hell I knew.” He guided her through the jungle, weaving his way around tree trunks, over fallen logs and around tangles of vegetation.

  They ran toward a high brick wall. She could see a stout wooden door with a large, old-fashioned lock below the knob. Cal pulled a key from his pocket, fitted it quickly into the lock and shouldered the massive door open. Just as a dark, terrifying form emerged from a screen of leaves, Cal pulled her though the door and slammed it closed behind them.

  Turning the lock, he sighed in relief as he leaned his shoulders against the barrier and reached for her. They were both breathing hard, and for long moments she could do little more than cling to him, her head resting against his shoulder.

  “Cal, oh God, Cal,” she managed to say, her arms tightening around him. He felt warm, solid, reassuring in a world of chaos.

  “I figured out how to get away from the monsters by coming in here,” he said.

  “Good.”

  “But they’re still outside, in the jungle. What were you doing out there? It’s dangerous,” he said.

  She raised her head, blinked at him. The answer was so obvious, but he didn’t seem to know it. “I came to find you. And suddenly I was just…there.”

  “You could have gotten hurt! I came here to hide out. You’re not supposed to follow me.” He stopped, looked confused.

  “Cal?” She wanted to ask him what he meant. But his grip on her shoulders had changed, and the sudden smoldering look in his eyes made her go very still.

  “Beth,” he breathed. Quickly, decisively, he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was hungry, passionate, and she knew by the way his mouth devoured hers now that in the past he had always been holding something of himself back.

  No longer. Now his kiss seared her from the roots of her hair to the soles of her feet.

  Always before, she had feared the power building between them. But in this place of unreality, the barriers were suddenly down, and it was impossible not to give him everything she could offer and ask for everything he could give.

  Dizzy with need, and with relief too, she lifted her arms, anchoring one hand to his shoulder while the other curled around his neck.

  He was like a drug flowing through her veins, pooling in sensitive parts of her body.

  She made a small sound of pleasure when he deepened the kiss, at the same time splaying his legs and pulling her aching body more tightly against his. When he took her bottom lip between his and gently sucked, she pressed herself shamelessly into the heat and hardness of him.

  She felt him go still. Heard him draw in a sharp, disjointed breath.

  Then his head lifted, and his hands were on her shoulders, setting her body away from his. Only a few inches away, yet the sudden absence of his warmth made her feel as if she’d stepped outside the house on a cold winter day.

  Her eyes blinked open. “Cal?”

  He looked as dazed as she felt. “What’s happening to me? I shouldn’t be kissing you like that. It’s wrong.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re innocent. I came to the farm to do a job, not start anything with you. You shouldn’t be getting involved with a guy like me.”

  “Because I’m innocent, or because you can’t deal with it?”

  He gave her a dark look. “Because I’m not going to make any kind of commitment to you. Not to you or any woman. That’s who I am!”

  “Suppose I don’t need a commitment? Suppose I just want whatever you’re willing to give.”

  “It’s not enough. Not for you.”

  “Let me be the judge of that.”

  “No.” Cutting off the conversation, he took her hand and led her away from the wall and toward another stand of trees. She saw that inside the wall, everything was different from the jungle outside. The grass was mowed short. The trees were planted on a neatly mulched plot, bordered by flower beds.

  They emerged from under branches waving gently in the wind to face a curved swimming pool flanked at one end by a little waterfall. To the right was a small house with a veranda opening onto the pool deck. In the distance she could see a mansion with lights blazing through the windows the way her own windows blazed in the darkness.

  Their radiance spilled out, illuminating the night. But that wasn’t the only light brightening the scene. On this side of the wall, a full moon shone down, bathing everything in a silvery radiance.

  In the swimming pool, a fish jumped from the water, leaving a trail of phosphorescence in the air before plunging below the surface again.

  The fish was beautiful. The place was beautiful. The colors were bright and vivid, even at night. The wind carried the sound of low music and a rich woodsy scent that sank into her lungs and filled her brain with subtle pleasure.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “It’s the estate of Cam Randolph and Jo O’Malley. They have a couple of parties here every year. I always thought it would be fun to stay longer. So here I am.”

  The casual way he said it sent a little dart of alarm through her.

  “What do you mean, ‘here I am’?” she asked in a voice that trembled slightly.

  He looked momentarily uncertain, then gave an elaborate shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I mean that I wanted to be here, so I am.”

  But she caught the doubt behind the surface of his dark eyes, as though there was no sorting through the logic of his own statements.

  She stared around her, then back at him, feeling almost as unsure as he sounded, yet determined to figure out what was fantasy and what was all too real. This conversation—it was real. But the scene around them was the product of her imagination—or his—although she understood that what happened in this place carried power far beyond what was rational or logical in the normal world.

  This might be a dream. Yet she sensed that staying here was dangerous, even if the monsters were shut away on the other side of a wall.

  She took a couple of deep steadying breaths. “You asked what’s happening to you. Do you remember that Sam Lassiter asked you to cover him at a meeting with an informant?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And what happened at the meeting?”

  “He told me the guy who’s after Lucas—Dallas Sedgwick—is in Baltimore. He’s got some kind of scheme. Big plans, Deep Throat said.” His expression turned urgent. “And he’s using the name Sierra. I’ve got to tell that to Lucas right away.”

  “Did you find out anything else?” she asked.

  His gaze turned inward, then a look of dismay crossed his features. “No. Someone started shooting. Deep Throat went down. I went for the gun in my boot.”

  “And?” she pressed.

  “And nothing!”

  “What do you mean nothing?”

  “I don’t remember anything else.”

  “You were hit in the head. A flesh wound.”

  She watched his face, watched the information sink in.

  “You’re in the hospital,” she added. “In a coma.”

  “No! I’m here. I’m here, with you.” To prove his point, he grabbed her by the shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled the length of her body against his. “This is what’s real,” he said in a thick voice. “You and me.”

  She wanted to protest, wanted to tell him that he was fooling himself. Yet she clung to him with the same strength that fueled his passion.

  Once more, his mouth came down on hers with a desperation she could taste, a desperation she could feel in every cell of her body.

  He needed her. But no less than she needed him. Because what they could give each other had become as necessary as breathing.

  She had come here with an urgent purpose—to connect with him—and she was doing that in a way that she hadn’t dreamed was possible. As he kissed her, she forgot where they were, forgot the hospital and the urgency of her mission. The only reality was her and Cal, their mouths fused, their bodies locked.

  The kiss broke, and he lifted his head, but only a f
raction as his lips played with hers. “I want you,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “I’ve wanted you since that first night at your house. I fought it because I knew it wasn’t right. But now you’re here, and I don’t have to fight what I’m feeling.”

  She nodded, because it was true for her as well. In this place where the colors were more vivid and the feelings more intense, risks faded into the background.

  If she wanted to make love with him here, she could do it, because all things were possible.

  “Come inside,” he murmured, leading her around the pool to the cabana. It was furnished not with lounges and chairs but with a four-poster king-size bed, the posts elaborately carved with motifs from her own weavings.

  Had she put them there? Or had he? she wondered vaguely.

  “Those flowing shirts of yours,” he said thickly. “When you turn, the fabric clings to your breasts. Do you wear them to tease me?”

  “I’d never tease you,” she whispered, then dipped her head. “Well, maybe a little.”

  He threw back his head and laughed, an uninhibited laugh, because this was a place where the two of them could shed all inhibitions.

  The laugh prickled along her nerve endings, setting off a wave of sensation that shimmered across her skin and sank into the marrow of her bones.

  “Oh!”

  “You know, I lay in bed thinking about which I’d enjoy more—undressing you or watching you undress for me.”

  “What did you decide?” she asked in a breathy voice.

  “I decided that if you stripped for me, it would be the sexiest show in the world.”

  She had never thought of herself as a sexy woman, never imagined herself capable of such abandon. But in this place it was all right to let herself go.

  Taking a step back, she reached for the buttons of her shirt. A flush rose in her cheeks, but it didn’t stop her from enjoying the smoldering expression on Cal’s face as she slowly slipped the buttons open one by one. She was certain she had put on a bra this morning. Now it had turned up missing, so she left the blouse hanging loose, hiding and then revealing glimpses of her breasts as she worked the snap at her waist and skimmed off her jeans.

  She was wearing only the shirt now, and her panties. Wondering where her courage came from, she slid the blouse off her shoulders, playing with it as she slowly peeled it down her arms, aware that her nipples were tight with arousal as she divested herself of the garment.

  Beth had never teased a man in her life. Never deliberately set out to be provocative. But she knew she had succeeded when she heard Cal make a low, needy sound.

  “That’s beautiful, so beautiful,” he breathed as he came toward her, then slowly reached to sweep her hair over her shoulders, covering the tops of her breasts, then rippling the golden curtain.

  “I love your hair. Your breasts,” he said, his voice rough as he took her fullness in his hands.

  She gasped as his fingers touched her, caressed her, swept the strands of her hair against her own flesh. Then he slipped his fingers between the strands, taking her nipples between his thumbs and fingers, giving her back his own brand of teasing. She arched into the caress, helpless to do anything besides respond to him—physically, emotionally, on every level that a woman could respond to a man.

  Lifting her gaze to his face, she saw he was as captivated as she. She had never seen him like this. He looked younger, freer and totally entranced by the passion flaring between them.

  He stripped off her panties. Then, lifting her in his arms as if she had no more weight than rose petals, he laid her gently down on the soft, yielding mattress.

  Standing beside the bed, he stared down at her, looking as if he couldn’t believe the two of them were here together.

  “I want you naked, too,” she said, astonished by the boldness of the statement.

  “Good.” He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it away, then reached for the snap at the top of his jeans, shucking off his remaining clothing in one smooth motion.

  She feasted her gaze on his body—the flat planes, the hard muscles, the jutting erection, thinking she should be embarrassed to enjoy his nudity so thoroughly. But she couldn’t summon embarrassment, only gratification.

  When she held out her arms to him, he came down beside her on the bed, gathering her close.

  The feel of his skin against hers was so glorious that she thought she might die from the pleasure. But she quickly discovered there was more as he drew back so that his hands could travel over her body, finding all the sensitive places that responded so willingly to his touch.

  She had never done this before and she thought in some corner of her mind that she should be nervous as his fingers slid over her belly, tangled in the curly hair at the juncture of her legs, then slipped into the warm folds of her feminine flesh. But there was no need to be nervous, not in this place, with this man.

  No need for anything but her deep response to him. He had fueled her passion and fueled her dreams. And now here she was, making love with him, and it was everything she had imagined and more.

  “You’re so responsive, so ready for me,” he growled.

  “Am I?” she asked in a breathy voice, thinking she had never expected to be praised for something like that.

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Responsive to you,” she answered. “Only you, Cal. This feels so right because it’s you.”

  He raised up on one elbow, his hot gaze burning into hers, and she reached up to press her fingertips against his cheek.

  “Please, don’t make me wait.”

  But he did make her wait while he pushed her higher and higher to a place where the only reality in the universe was the rich pleasure he was giving her.

  Then his body was over hers. She had expected that this first time might hurt, but there was no pain, only the sweet sensation of his body filling hers and touching her very heart.

  She took him deeply into herself, glorying in the knowledge of their joining, not just the physical pleasure of it but more, so much more. Then he began to move, setting a pace that carried her higher than she’d imagined possible. She clung to him, feeling small tremors shake her. They built to earthquake proportions, exploding through her in a shower of pleasure that brought his name to her lips.

  She knew he followed her into ecstasy when she heard his deep shout of gratification.

  He rolled to his side, kissing her, keeping his arms around her, and she snuggled against him, marveling at how content, how complete she felt.

  She wanted to stay there forever with him. For a long time, they seemed to simply drift together in a private world where no one else could reach them. Yet slowly, under the contentment, a nagging feeling began to creep up on her, like an animal with sharp teeth nipping at her heels.

  She pressed her palm to Cal’s chest, feeling the beating of his heart. It felt strong and regular. His naked body next to hers was fit and firm. Yet this wasn’t reality, she remembered with a jolt. This was his dream, and she had come here to be with him.

  “Cal?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I have to go back. You have to come back with me.”

  “Back where?”

  “Back to the real world.”

  “This is…” He raised his head and looked around as if seeing the setting for the first time. “You’re right,” he said slowly. “This is…” He stopped, then started again. “I could make love to you here. Back there, everything’s too complicated. Here it’s simple.” He brought his hand to her breast and stroked the nipple, bringing it easily to arousal.

  “I want you. You want me. We can give each other pleasure again.”

  It was so tempting to give in to the seductive tone of his voice, the heat he generated with his touch. But she couldn’t let herself be seduced again.

  “No. Cal, stop.”

  “You want me,” he said again, his voice thick with satisfaction as he watched her nipple tighten. “We just made love, and you want me again.
”

  There was no point in denying the obvious. “Yes. But that doesn’t change anything. We have to go back.”

  His face turned hard. “You go back if you want to. I’m staying here.”

  “No.” She reached for his arm, but he was too fast for her. He was off the bed and striding naked out of the summerhouse before she could stop him.

  “Cal!”

  She was running toward him before she had time to be embarrassed by her state of undress. But she was too late. He had already dived in.

  Perhaps it was an illusion of the moonlight. But the moment his body disappeared below the crystal water, he seemed to vanish.

  She ran to the edge of the pool, terror rising within her as she peered into the turquoise depths.

  “Cal,” she called frantically, even when she realized the effort was useless. “Cal.”

  The pool seemed to have no bottom. The crystal water went down and down into darkness. But there was no thought in her mind except to follow him and bring him back to her.

  Plunging in, she kicked wildly downward. Then she found she didn’t have to kick. She was being sucked down, down into the darkness where she couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe.

  Then his hand was on her again, pulling her up and out of the blackness so that they stood on a beach with waves thundering and crashing.

  She dug her bare toes into the warm sand, then looked up at Cal as he stood strong and naked beside her.

  “You know this isn’t real. Cal, you have to come back.”

  “It’s better here.”

  She wrapped her hands around his arms. “You’ll die if you stay here.”

  He stared at her, then looked away.

  “Come back. Come back with me now.”

  His eyes burned into hers. He didn’t speak, but she knew he had made his decision. And she wasn’t going to change his mind.

  Chapter Eleven

  Beth woke choking, gasping for air, struggling against some terrible force that held her in place.

  She realized that someone was holding her, his hands on her shoulders. And for a moment she thought they were Cal’s hands. But they weren’t. It was Sam Lassiter who held her down on the bed. He was on one side of her, Hannah and Lucas were on the other.