by Linda Howard
“I think I had accepted that I couldn’t have any sort of romantic relationship,” she continued. “I liked being alone, in my little cabin in the mountains. Dr. Ewell thought that moving into the cabin was good for me, a move toward normalizing my life. And it was; it was great. I worked with him on experiments and documentation, and occasionally helped find missing people, though the effort involved was such a strain that—well, you know what it’s like. Once upon a time, before Gleen, I could direct the knowing. I could lock on to someone specific, and go into a vision. I can’t control it at all now.”
“Do you want it to be like before?”
“I never wanted to have another vision in my life,” she murmured. “But if I don’t have any choice about it, then yes, I’d like to be able to control them. This—this is like being ambushed.” She was getting drowsy again, and her eyelids drooped.
“But except for the two visions, you haven’t had any other episodes?”
She thought of the first night she had called him, and known what he was doing, what he would say, even as he answered the telephone. “There was one flash of clairvoyance, but it wasn’t related to the murders, and hasn’t happened again. It was just a second or two. I don’t think of the visions as clairvoyant episodes; they’re … different, more strongly grounded in emotion. Anyway—no. Nothing else.”
“Good.”
There was a wealth of dark satisfaction in his voice, a satisfaction she couldn’t quite decipher. Then his warm hand covered her breast, and she knew, with an instinct that had nothing to do with her psychic abilities, and everything to do with being a woman. No longer sleepy, she tilted her head back on his arm to look at him.
“It seems to me that now is the perfect time to show you some of the pleasure of sex,” Dane murmured. Those hazel eyes were blazingly intent, and deeply green. “You can’t feel my emotions, so that takes care of one problem. If you were afraid of me, you wouldn’t have been lying almost naked on my lap for half an hour, which takes care of the other problem. All you have to do is lie there and let me make you feel good.”
She quivered, her gaze locked with his. Was now the time? Until Dane, she hadn’t felt desire. Sex had been an experiment, a hope, and ultimately, a disappointment. She wasn’t afraid of him, but rather that she would fail again. Loving him was still so new, so startling, that she didn’t want to tarnish it. It was cowardly, but she would prefer to never try, and retain the frail hope that it might have been possible, than to try and fail. Might-have-been was a poor comfort, but better than nothing.
“I don’t know,” she said nervously. “What if—”
“Stop worrying about it,” he interrupted. “Just lie back, close your eyes, and leave everything to me.”
Easier said than done. Still she stared up at him with worried eyes, unable to decide yes or no. Too much had happened to her for her to be able to make that move. She hated herself for being so weak, and tears began welling.
Dane gave her approximately two seconds, then settled the issue himself. He stroked down her body and beneath the waistband of her panties, tucking his hand into the notch between her thighs. Marlie cried out in surprise, automatically grabbing his wrist. Her thighs clamped tight around his hand. Her eyes were huge, eclipsing her wan face. But even as they stared at each other, hectic color warmed her cheeks.
“Do you trust me?” he asked in a calm voice, as if it weren’t taking every bit of self-control he had to keep from rolling her beneath him and sinking into her, finding blessed relief for his throbbing erection.
She chewed her lower lip, and he almost groaned aloud at the provocation. “Well, yes.”
“Then relax your legs. I’m not going to hurt you. As a matter of fact, I guarantee that you’ll like it.” She managed a wobbly smile. “Guarantee, huh?”
“Absolutely.” He bent his head and brushed a gentle kiss across her mouth.
Marlie quivered, caught on the twin prongs of cowardice. She was afraid to try and fail, and afraid that if she didn’t trust him now, she might never have another chance. In the end, the second fear proved stronger. No matter what, she wanted to know what it was like to cradle Dane within her body, to feel his incredible strength as he drove into her, to give him pleasure if nothing else. He was determined to bring her to pleasure first, she knew, but she also knew that afterward it would be his turn. She wasn’t agreeing to just heavy petting, but to the complete sex act.
She drew a deep, shaky breath. “Okay. As long as I have your personal guarantee.”
“I’ll put it in writing and have it notarized,” he promised, and kissed her again.
She couldn’t control the fine tremors that shook her entire body, but she took another deep breath and slowly parted her thighs. He gently stroked the soft, closed folds, and Marlie released her death grip on his wrist. “Easy now,” he whispered, then deftly opened her and penetrated her with one long finger.
She stiffened in his arms, her thighs locking together again in an effort to control his invading hand. It was useless, because there was nothing she could do to stop the slow probe of his finger inside her. Shock made her dizzy. Oh, God.
She wasn’t dry, but she was far from being ready for penetration. The friction made his finger seem as big as a penis. She struggled briefly to contain the chaos of her rioting nerve endings, then collapsed against his chest in surrender.
“There, that’s good,” he crooned, and pushed another finger into her. Her hips arched, then subsided. She felt stretched, invaded, her body no longer under her control. Some dormant, primal instinct was stirring into life. Her inner muscles contracted gently in adjustment, and Dane’s entire body shivered.
His voice was hoarse. “This is the most that I’m going to do to you, at least right now. You can relax because it’s already happened. Am I hurting you?”
Yes. No. She hadn’t realized it could feel like this. She was a little delirious with shock and pleasure, and shook her head, her hair cascading over his chest. She was stunned that her body was capable of such intense sensation.
“Then close your eyes, honey. Close your eyes and feel. Don’t think, just feel.”
Helplessly, she did. With her eyes shut, her concentration centered on her body and what was happening to it. Color swirled behind her eyelids. Heat surged through her, followed rapidly by a chill that wasn’t really a chill, but rather a ripple of almost painful delight. Her skin felt too tight, too sensitive. Her nipples puckered and hardened, standing firmly upright.
His fingers reached deep inside her, rasping her delicate inner tissues. Helplessly she arched her hips again, taking his touch deeper within. Her thighs fell open, giving him easier access. Her heart was thundering, and she felt as if she might fly apart. She clutched his shirt, her fingers digging into the flesh beneath as she tried to anchor herself against the storm that was buffeting her.
She heard him say something, but there was a roaring in her ears and she couldn’t quite make out the words. The words weren’t important; she could hear the fierce tenderness in his tone, and that was what she needed. His fingers slipped out of her, and she made a soft sound of distress, her hips rolling toward him. Swiftly he stripped her panties off and returned his hand to her body. This time she willingly parted her thighs, and felt the eager dampness between them. The intrusion, when it came, was exquisite relief, yet the relief lasted only a moment. The slow thrust of his fingers elicited a deep, powerful hunger, so that his touch wasn’t an easing, but a need. Then his rough thumb searched upward in her soft folds and pressed on the small, tautly swelling nub at the top of her sex. Pure fire exploded through her nerves, and she gave a strained cry as she curled toward him.
He held her tightly against him, subduing her sensual struggles. He was talking to her, the words low and hoarse in her ear, encouraging her to greater heights while his strength kept her safely grounded. He continued to circle and rub with his thumb, tormenting the little nubbin, each touch making the fire burn hotter. A pulse
began throbbing between her legs, beating in a rhythm she had never felt before. Passion was a brand, searing her flesh with its invisible mark.
“D-Dane!” It was a wail almost of anguish. He tilted her head back and set his mouth on hers, his tongue repeating the invasive movements of his fingers, the pressure hard and rough. She reveled in it, reaching up to cling to his heavy shoulders, offering her mouth more fully to him.
It built quickly, sensation spiraling into a tighter and tighter coil, and suddenly it was too much. Her entire body clenched, then surged wildly as her climax rolled through her in waves. She shook in uncontrollable spasms, feeling as if she were flying apart. He held her close, letting her know that she wasn’t alone in the tempest. She cried out in a thin, hoarse voice, and he muffled the cries with his own mouth.
The crest of sensation subsided, though small shock waves continued to ripple through her loins. She went limp, her face buried against his chest while she gasped for breath. He shifted her, then his muscles tensed beneath her and he got to his feet, holding her firmly in his arms. She gripped his shirt as he carried her swiftly into the bedroom and placed her on the bed. Her robe was hanging on her shoulders, and he pulled it completely away, then stood and began stripping off his own clothes.
He hadn’t turned on the light, but the door was open, and light from the living room spilled across the bed. Marlie lay without moving, enveloped in a lassitude so complete that she thought she might never move again. In that quiet state of subconsciousness, with her physical senses so acute and her mental processes barely functioning, she could feel every slow, heavy beat of her heart as it moved blood through her veins. Her pulse throbbed in the tender places of her body.
With an effort, she lifted her heavy eyelids and watched him undress. His urgency was an almost palpable force, his movements swift and violent. In only seconds, his powerful form was bare. He crawled over her, his hard thighs pushing between hers and forcing them wide, then settled his heavy weight on her.
There was a wonderful stillness, a silence, both without and within. With incredible joy, and some trepidation, she felt the hardness of his genitals against the yielding softness of her own. He braced himself on one arm and reached between them with his other hand, guiding his shaft as he tensed his buttocks and slowly began pushing into her.
Marlie’s breath tangled in her throat, and she felt herself drowning in sensation again. She had felt stretched by his fingers probing her, but his thick sex filled her to the point of distress. Though she was damp, her delicate inner tissues were swollen by his previous attentions; her sheath was ultrasensitive, tightening convulsively on him as he inexorably thrust himself to the hilt. She gave a soft, panicked sound of discomfort that verged on real pain.
Dane paused, holding himself deep within her. His powerful body was shaking. “Are you okay?” His voice was hoarse, and barely audible.
She couldn’t think what to say. She wasn’t having any empathic interference; her attention was wholly focused on her body. But physically she wasn’t certain she could bear it when he started thrusting. He was so big, and the slightest movement rasped along her inner nerve endings; the sensation hovered between ecstasy and pain. Her mind was a blank, and she couldn’t find the words to give him the reassurance he wanted.
He was a man, not a saint. His male flesh was throbbing inside her. He held himself rigidly still for a tense moment while he waited for her answer, but when none came his control shattered. A rough sound burst from his throat and he began thrusting with heavy power, reaching deep into her. The impact shook her entire body. Now she knew her answer, and clung fiercely to him as his hips hammered. The sharp slap of their bodies coming together mingled with his harsh breathing, and her own soft moans.
She had wanted Dane, and she had wanted this. Tightly she shut her eyes, savoring every moment. She loved his roughness, the savagery of his hunger. She loved the helpless groans that escaped him, the heat and sweat as his body coiled and struck. She had always felt apart, an oddity, but with Dane she was simply, and purely, a woman. Nothing interfered with the moment; they were male and female, mating with fierce and uncomplicated passion. She wished it could go on forever.
It didn’t, though. It couldn’t, given the urgency of his need. All too soon his rhythm quickened, and he reared back, pounding into her with heavy force. He pushed her legs high, lifting her ankles onto his shoulders. Gasping, she felt him getting even bigger and harder inside her. He gave a harsh cry, one last thrust, and began shuddering convulsively.
When he had stopped shaking, when the last small quake had rippled through him, she opened her arms, and he weakly let himself sink into them. His heavy weight crushed her into the mattress, but she was too tired to care. His heartbeat thudded slowly against her breast. His dark head, wet with sweat, rested beside hers on the pillow. His face was turned toward her, and his warm breath washed over her neck.
She stroked his back, loving the feel of his heated skin beneath her palms. He was becoming heavier as he drifted into sleep, but she didn’t care. She was limp with utter contentment. Only heaven could be better than this, lying in the aftermath of lovemaking, the man she loved sleeping cradled in her body and her arms. She wanted time to stand still in a place where evil couldn’t intrude.
It intruded with a sudden shrill beeping.
Dane reacted instantly, withdrawing from her and sitting up in the same fluid motion. He turned on the lamp and silenced his beeper, briefly glancing at the digital readout. Marlie lay frozen. Without a word he picked up the phone and punched in a number, holding the receiver cradled between his head and shoulder while he began putting on his rumpled clothes. “This is Hollister,” he said tersely. He listened for a moment, then said, “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Have you called Trammell? Never mind, I’ll do it. Radio back to the patrol officer and tell him to make damn certain the scene is secured.”
He depressed the button and got another dial tone. While he called the second number, Marlie got out of bed and fumbled for her robe. It was twisted, one of the arms turned inside out. Her hands were shaking, but she managed to straighten the garment and wrap herself in it, pulling the belt tight. Dane sat down on the side of the bed and began putting on his shoes.
“We have a victim,” he said quietly into the phone. “I’ll meet you there.” He didn’t glance at Marlie. “It’s 3311 Cypress Terrace.”
Cypress. Her stomach knotted into a cold lump. She had known, but this dispelled the last faint doubt.
He hung up the phone and went into the living room, shrugging into his shirt as he walked. Marlie followed him, as silent as a ghost, and stood in the doorway watching as he slipped into his shoulder holster. He tucked the big pistol into place under his left arm.
She didn’t approach him, and he didn’t come to her. He paused by the front door and looked back at her. “Are you all right?” he asked, but there was remoteness in his eyes and his voice, his mind already on the job awaiting him.
“Sure,” she said, burying the terror and pain and loneliness deep inside her. She couldn’t allow her weakness to delay him.
“I’ll be back when I can,” he said, and left.
She stood until the sound of his car had died away, then steadily went to the front door and locked it. Next she cleaned up the remains of their pizza, and washed the few dishes that were dirty. When she went back into the living room, she saw her panties in the corner of the couch and picked them up, wadding them in her hand.
She was very tired, but sleep seemed impossible. The delight of the night had been destroyed by a return of horror. She couldn’t allow herself to think of either right now. She sat down on the couch and quietly watched the minutes of the night tick away, as she held her own vigil.
13
LIGHTNING FLASHED IN THE DISTANCE, REVEALING THE UNDER belly of low, purplish black clouds. It would rain again before morning. Dane drove automatically, clearing his mind of everything. He couldn’t let himself think about
Nadine Vinick, or the expectation might lead him to see similarities that weren’t there. He couldn’t think about Marlie, or his concentration would be completely shot. He tried not to anticipate anything about the scene he was about to see, tried not to remember how Marlie had described it. Again, he didn’t want to prejudice himself. He had to see everything clearly.
It was still early enough that traffic was fairly heavy.
Anxious to reach the exit, he tucked up too close behind a semitrailer. One of the retreads on the rig chose that moment to come apart, throwing up a big road gator that slapped into the front of his car. Cursing, he backed off to a safer distance, but the distraction helped, pulled his mind away from everything he was trying not to think about.
It took a little longer than ten minutes to reach 3311 Cypress Terrace. The street was cluttered with the usual assortment of official vehicles and sightseers. Dane got out of the car, studying the bystanders with acute interest, looking for one who seemed familiar. If the same guy had done both women, he might have been at the Vinick scene, too. Nothing; not one of the gawkers triggered a memory.
Cypress Terrace was in a slightly more upscale neighborhood than the Vinicks had lived in. The houses weren’t bigger, but they were about ten years newer. There was a small, attached carport, and that was where the knot of uniforms had gathered, though one patrolman was guarding the front door, and he hoped another one was at the back.
Freddie Brown and her partner, Worley, were the detectives on call that weekend, and they were already there.
Freddie detached herself from the group of patrolmen as soon as she saw him. “Hi, doll,” she said, tucking her hand inside his arm and drawing him to a standstill. “There’s no hurry. Talk to me for a minute.”