by Bryn Donovan
“Let’s talk somewhere else.”
Cassie took another glance at his mother’s door. There weren’t many things pinned to the corkboard. A greeting card that looked old, the edges curling up. A couple of milagros. Startled, she noticed that both of them were skulls.
Maybe people wished the peace for her that death granted. It was wrong for her to endure in this state of unknowing. Cassie wondered if that was how Jonathan felt, but she couldn’t ask.
He took her up to the atrium floor with its triangular glass ceiling where people enjoyed the sun. A few young women sat cross-legged on the floor, crocheting and chatting, and an older gentleman sat alone reading. Other small groups of people gathered around tables. They’d brought coffee from the cafeteria floor. The plants and trees in pots were plentiful enough to emit a green scent. Cassie joined Jonathan on an empty bench.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “And you visit her every week. You’re a good son.”
He was looking outside. “Once a week, and we live in the same complex. I could do better.”
“It must be hard to see her. And you stay for, what, an hour or two?”
He shook his head. “Not that long. I visit her, and then I go to Mass at the chapel.”
She’d known he was Catholic, but this surprised her. “I didn’t know you were so religious.”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
Cassie had to ask. “Do you think you’re sinning by screwing around with me?”
“No.”
“Good.” That made one thing he didn’t feel guilty about. “Why not, though?”
“I know what real evil is.” He looked her up and down. “When we’re together, it feels like the opposite of that.”
She interlaced her fingers in his. “It feels that way to me, too.”
They sat in silence for a few moments.
“Thanks for taking me to meet your mom.” What else should she say? He still treated his mother like a person who could hear and understand things. Maybe that was true. Or maybe it was better for him to do so. Either way, she should do the same thing. “I hope she liked me.”
“I wish you could have known her before.”
“What happened? Was it one thing, or a gradual…” She was saying this wrong. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
He looked down at their joined hands. “It was a ghost possession spell. She invited the spirit of a dead Mage to take control of her body because he was the only one who could kill the Rededji.” At her confused look, he explained, “He was a witch who reanimated and controlled people’s corpses right after killing them.”
Cassie recoiled. “Jesus! What the fuck kind of magic is that?”
“A strong kind. My mom thought she could survive the voluntary possession…but too much power went through her, the Mage’s and the Rededji’s, in the fight. She won, but it burned her out from inside.”
Cassie thought this over. “Can you go into her psyche, like you do with other people? And talk to her that way?”
“Nobody can. A few Mages tried… they even had Val try, though she was still so young. I tried it once. Her barriers are impenetrable. You can’t tell if there’s anything behind him.”
“She was a hero,” Cassie said. “Like her son.”
As Jonathan walked back with her to her quarters, she didn’t know what to say. Her imagination roamed to thoughts of kissing him, touching him, making him forget his worries and sorrows for a while. But surely he wouldn’t be in the mood, even if it felt to her like energy arced between them.
She asked about Lucia’s trip. Was she flying out of Albuquerque? Yes, Jonathan said—they had private jets, but only used them when commercial flights weren’t convenient. Regular flights in and out of El Dédalo would have attracted a lot of curiosity. Was it normal for someone to check in every twenty-four hours, like Lucia had mentioned? Jonathan said yes, this was standard.
Once they were in Cassie’s room, he set his backpack down and asked, “How did your talk with her go?”
“Good.” She tried to keep her voice light as she kicked off her shoes and pulled off her socks. He waited for a more involved answer. More restless than thirsty, she went to grab something to drink. A row of brown bottles with gold labels inside the fridge door surprised her. “Ooh!” She turned to him. “Did you buy this?”
“I asked them to. You said you liked dark beer.”
“I love it.” She twisted off the cap and took a good drink. The dark, rich taste, almost a little chocolatey, fortified her for whatever conversation was coming next. “Ahh. That was very nice of you.”
He didn’t answer, just stared at her where she leaned against the wall, barefoot, drinking a beer. She took another swig. At last he said, “My mom’s story—that’s not unusual. Did Lucia tell you how dangerous it is?”
“She did.” After the visit to his mom, he wanted her to say she wouldn’t join. That she would stay safe. But hearing about what the woman had fought against only underscored for her how much bizarre and scary shit existed in the world. Someone had to stop it.
Cassie peered at him. “Are you mad at me?”
“No.” He stalked over to her, dragged her by the waist up against him, and kissed her hard. She moaned against his mouth and blindly found a spot on a shelf to set her beer.
Maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised. More than one of her friends had confessed to having sex right after a funeral. Scandalously, Ana had done it with a cousin her age, one she hadn’t seen since childhood, right in the back room at her grandma’s house. They’d cleared a big pile of visitors’ coats off the bed and onto the floor. Something about being around death and anything close to it made people want to have sex, maybe for comfort and connection, or maybe as a basic biological response, an urge to procreate to make up for what was lost.
As he kissed her, his hand slipped under the fabric of her cowboy shirt, at first caressing the skin below the collarbone, and then lower. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Two snaps popped undone as his hand swept down lower, around the outer curve of her breast.
“Understand me,” he said when he broke off the kiss. One of his hands rested on the back of her head as though she might turn away from him. “I want you to stay with me. I want that so much it hurts.” His thumb swept across her nipple, sending a current of pleasure up to her just-kissed lips, and her breath caught. “But if anything happens to you, it’ll kill me.”
Her heart lurched. “I’m sorry. I’m… I know I’m so lucky you care about me like you do. And I hate making you upset.” She met his eyes. “But I have to do what’s right for me.”
Jonathan took a step back. His frustration and desire swirled together like poison and wine. He couldn’t make her love him, and he couldn’t restrain her from rushing straight into danger. These were the two things he wanted most, and they were utterly out of his reach. Another fight with her would be too much to bear. And he wanted her so badly it was almost enough to break him.
“Get undressed.” His voice was tight as he tried to mask the desperation and longing behind it.
Cassie’s eyes widened. She took off her shirt, favoring him with the glorious sight of her breasts, and shimmied out of her jeans. Wearing only her plain white cotton underwear, she looked up at him, her mouth parted in curiosity or anticipation.
“All the way,” he said. She slipped off the underwear and set it on top of her jeans on the floor.
He stared at her. Instead of drawing near, she stood still and endured his hungry gaze as though waiting for him to do whatever he wished. She was completely bare to him, he was still fully clothed, and this woke the fantasies that dwelled in the shadows of his soul. He went over to his backpack, found the handcuffs, and tucked the key into his pocket. He straightened again, fixing her in his gaze. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she breathed. No fear registered in her voice or her features.
“Turn around.” She did immediately. As he clicked the steel ring around one
of her wrists and then the other behind her back, a deep breath shuddered through her. She was aroused, maybe nearly as much as he was, and the realization sent an even more powerful need coursing through his veins. He didn’t have her heart, but she trusted him with her body, and that in itself struck him with awe. She was bound to him, safe with him, at least for tonight.
Still standing behind her, he lifted her hair and smoothed it over one of her shoulders, leaving her back and the side of her neck exposed. A fine tremble went through her under this simple touch.
She had such a beautiful back. He pressed a kiss on the delicious place between her shoulder blade and spine, making her arch, and reached around her to caress her breasts. With her hands bound behind her, their tight peaks offered themselves up more blatantly to him. He kissed and bit the delicate flesh of the side of her neck, and she rewarded him with a soft moan. Her pulse slammed at the hinge of her jaw beneath his lips, the life she was all too willing to gamble and he was desperate to protect.
He placed his palm flat on her throat and glided it upward, no pressure at all, and she lifted her chin up high for him in response. The way she yielded to his light caress enthralled him. She was cuffed and obedient to his will, but he was the one enslaved. He raised his hand to her cheek, turning her head to the side, and captured her mouth with his own.
She opened for him and he reveled in the taste of her. His hand teasing her breasts ventured lower, stroking down her belly, which tightened under the caress. When he ended the kiss, a needy sound escaped the back of her throat.
He reached between her thighs, cupping her there hard, a primal move that made her gasp. She was pressed back up against his still-clothed body, and his whole hand was filled with her wetness. Take her, now, his instincts urged. It would be so easy to bend her over, then and there, and sink into her willing heat. Instead, he forced himself to go slow and savor this. She might be gone from his life before long, like most of the things he’d ever loved.
“Jonathan,” she begged, his own name sounding almost unbearably sweet from her lips.
He delved into the slick folds and settled his fingers right on the place designed to make her lose her mind. “Christos,” he whispered. “I can smell you.” Her scent, her soft sounds, the heat of her body… She flooded his senses. His desire for her rose to the intensity of physical pain. As he worked her clit, he kissed and bit her neck again. He stroked the under curve of her breast, teased the nipple between his finger and thumb, did everything he could to slowly and systematically dismantle her. She gave a soft cry and her head fell back onto his shoulder, wordlessly begging him for release.
Could she ever want him as much as he wanted her?
He spoke in her ear, his voice coming out hoarse. “You want to come like this?”
“Yes,” she gasped. He was sure she was a moment away from being undone.
“Not yet,” he suggested, withdrawing his hand. She whimpered.
He gently took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face him. God knew if she’d gotten angry with him, if she’d demanded satisfaction, he would’ve given it to her. But her expression was unfocused, lost in his game.
He cupped the back of her head with the hand still slick from her arousal and his lips took hers again. His kiss forced her mouth wide open, plundering deep into her, as though this were a way he could claim her forever. He didn’t touch her anywhere else, leaving her bound body neglected, and she pushed herself closer to him. Releasing her mouth, he stepped back, thwarting her intentions. Softly, he said, “Get on your knees.”
She moved slowly, probably taking care because she couldn’t use her hands, and kneeled on the smooth, hard floor. Triumph surged through his being that she would do this much for him. He unzipped his jeans and eased down his boxers, his dick springing free. She ran her tongue along the edge of the head, and it twitched in response. Then she took the whole head into her mouth and sucked hard. Intense pleasure engulfed him, and a low growl came from the back of his throat.
She took in more of his length. He could hardly think. With every shred of will he had, he kept himself from shoving himself into her mouth, letting her set her own tantalizing pace. He stroked her cheek, petted her hair. She gagged as he hit the back of her throat and he froze, ready to help her up if she wanted to stop. Drawing back, she rubbed her wet eyes against his thigh, the artless action of someone utterly absorbed, and he almost lost it. God, have mercy. She surrounded him with her hot mouth again. His heartbeat roared in his ears. He was close, and she seemed ready to swallow his every drop. He didn’t want to finish that way, not before he’d given anything to her.
He buried his fingers in her hair and drew her away from him. She gazed upward, her lips red and wet from kissing and sucking, her eyes watering, face flushed, hair in tangles. She was a beautiful wreck. He’d never seen anything so erotic in his life.
Taking her by the shoulders, he helped her to her feet. He lifted her in his arms, carried her to the bed, and lay her down on her side. She was pliant, allowing him to position her on her knees, her cheek against the mattress, moaning his name. He kneeled behind her, his body half covering hers, and reached around to stroke her.
She ground down against his hand. “Oh God, please…” In only a few moments, she came apart. “Yes!”
Her body shook with her release, and when he drove into her, she convulsed around him. His last frayed thread of control snapped. He gripped her hips and thrust into her hard and fast, and, for a moment, the world whited out, bright, blinding him as his own orgasm overcame him and he pumped himself into her.
Her legs gave way and she lay flat on the bed. He stretched out half on top of her, his breaths ragged, and laid his cheek on the back of her shoulder.
I am going to love her until the day I die. He knew it for a fact. There was nothing either of them or anyone else could do to change it.
She barely moved, dazed and spent. After pulling up the jeans and boxers that he’d shoved down around his knees, he unlocked the handcuffs and set them on the nearby table. She stretched out on her side, and he gathered her into his arms.
“Why do you do these things to me?” Her voice was low, lazy with female satisfaction.
“Why do you let me do them?” He really wanted to know.
“Because it gets me so excited.”
He couldn’t help a small smile of male pride. “That’s one reason why.” He could feel her heart beating hard and fast still. The truth tugged at him. “And I want to know how much you would do for me. Because I would do anything for you.”
She drew back to look at him, her eyes wide, as if stunned by the honesty of his quiet admission.
Longing filled him, even after all they’d shared, but this was purely spiritual. “Cassie, let me go into your psyche.”
She tensed in his arms.
“It won’t hurt,” he promised. “Not when we’re like this.”
“Why do you want to?”
“I was only there once, when I attacked you, when I wasn’t—”
“That doesn’t matter now.” Her tone was firm.
“I want to be that close to you.” He’d never felt closer to anyone than he felt to her in this moment, and he still wanted more. He searched her face for a response. “When I have a right to be. Please.”
“All right,” she said. Her acquiescence filled his soul with gratitude. “What should I do?”
“Close your eyes.” As she obeyed, an idea occurred to him, something that might make his entrance even easier for her. “I’m going to shut down my own barriers…they’re so thin right now, anyway.” She probably didn’t know what he was talking about. “Okay, here we go.”
There was no pressure or pain. Cassie felt his psyche and met and welcomed him in the same way she’d opened many times now to his desire. The walls of her self did not tumble in. They blurred and dissolved. An unworldly feeling came over her, something like goose bumps, though it wasn’t physical.
She sm
elled burning candles. That made no sense. She opened her eyes.
She and Jonathan were both standing, but not in the colorful desert she’d expected. Tall walls surrounded them, many stories high, filled with intricate carvings. A saint with the face of a gargoyle, so hideous she looked down, only to see pages from hymnals or prayer books scattered on the floor, some spattered with blood. She took in a sharp breath.
Dozens of ivory tapers in candelabras sputtered in the niches in the walls, piercing the darkness, throwing shadows that gesticulated like living things. But some light shone down from the tall stained-glass windows, red, green, and blue. She didn’t understand the stories they depicted with medieval knights and ladies, but they were beautiful.
Amazing statues, not at all frightening, stood on huge pedestals. Marble, maybe, but so carefully detailed that if they hadn’t been larger than life, she would’ve expected them to breathe and speak. Warriors fought together, back to back. Nude lovers clasped one another, blatantly carnal, yet not out of place in a sacred space. The cord of a vein in the wrist. The fine texture of a lower lip.
A cold wind bit her skin. She was as naked as she’d been on the bed. Turning around, she saw the cathedral was half gone, as though it had been bombed. Beams lay aslant against a remaining wall. One pillar presided over a pile of rubble. Even though light came in through the windows, the open part of the building looked on a benighted forest and a dark sky. But there were stars. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck and arms.
She stared at Jonathan, who stood barefoot, wearing only his jeans. Why had he brought her to this strange place, so grand and so ravaged?
His jaw was slack. He was as shocked as she was. “How did you get in here?” He thought she’d done something on purpose.
“This is you,” she breathed, suddenly understanding. “We’re in you.”
“Val said you couldn’t enter people’s minds.” His voice carried an undertone of accusation.
“I can’t! All of this is new to me, remember?” The suspicion faded from his eyes. “You said you closed down your barriers.” She wasn’t completely sure what that even meant.