Cupid Painted Blind - A Collection of Paranormal Romance Stories

by Powell, C. G. ; Lavender, Cait; Rayns, Lisa; Hardin, Olivia; Nelson, Stephanie; Schulte, Liz

  Langston smiled at her, looking like he was trying to read her inner thoughts with his piercing gaze. She realized that the voices were quieter. They were still muttering and murmuring somewhere in the recesses of her mind, but the overwhelming ebb and flow eased. She even thought she detected a calming in the tone of those voices, like the inner demons weren’t nearly so agitated anymore. Who was this man?

  “Do you know me?” she asked, unable to resist the question.

  When he grinned she came very close to swooning. Her heart began palpitating and her head began swimming. She wanted to take his hand and bring it to her cheek to feel his caress. He was a stranger. How could she have such sudden and uncontrollable thoughts about someone she didn’t even know?

  “Where is your husband, Kris?” The tone of his words was cautious, as if he meant to remind her of something she’d forgotten.

  And if she was swimming in her attraction to him before, his question doused her with cold water. She found herself drowning in the icy memory of Brock. It was a memory she didn’t want to surface.

  Chapter 3

  It was her. A new body, but the same woman just the same. Langston had met her in three prior lives and he always wondered why the gods would cross their paths so often when she could not be his. The last meeting had been just at the conclusion of the first World War. It was his longest period with her; she’d rescued him when he’d been injured. But his recovery hadn’t left him completely unscathed – when he left her that time, it was without a part of his heart.

  “Where is your husband, Kris?” He knew the words were said with an undertone of suggestion and he could see by her blanched expression that she heard him loud and clear. It wasn’t like him. He knew how to control his emotions and was always deliberate in what he said and did.

  But she’d always belonged to another. Each of her lives was the same. A short life of poverty and struggle, tethered to the man she loved. Marriage was serious and sacred. What was it the preachers said? What God has joined, let no man put asunder. But he wasn’t just a man. To his people he’d been a god himself, the last of the “Giants.” To later peoples he became a shaman, then a witchdoctor. Today, he was just a witch.

  She was older than he’d ever seen her, probably in her forties. The age was beautiful on her, taking nothing from the loveliness he’d long admired. Her dark brown hair, straight and fine as a child’s, hung well past her shoulders, and he remembered the feel of it. He’d dared to touch it just once. Touched it and inhaled it so that the memory could be locked forever in his soul when he left her. And he always had to leave her.

  Her very plump and pink lips puckered a bit as she chewed on her answer. Finally she looked down at her hand, the hand that would have worn a wedding band and rubbed that empty finger for a moment with her thumb, then locked her black eyes with his brown ones. “He’s dead. But he wasn’t really my husband. Our marriage was a farce.”

  She looked confused, like she wasn’t sure why she’d given away some secret. He suspected in the three weeks she’d been here she hadn’t once told Charlie about her husband.

  Her husband was dead. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. They always died together. Each of her past lives ended in death with him. Once by Indians in Oklahoma Territory. Once by fire in a warehouse. The last time a messy murder over her husband’s gambling debts. He might have gone after the assailants if they hadn’t already been dispatched by someone else before he found out about it. But now things were different. She’d broken her destiny.

  Or perhaps she’d found her destiny. He was almost afraid to consider it. Afraid because he sensed something was wrong in her. He could see that her aura wasn’t right. In past lives it had always been a calm rose-colored halo surrounding her. Now it screamed to him painfully, flashing purple. He pressed his magic onto her and watched the spikes of her energy settle down just a bit.

  He never noticed it before, but she had a power. It would take time to learn what her specific gift was, but he could feel it just the same. How had he missed that in the three previous lives?

  Suddenly uncomfortable and unsure of himself, Langston shifted his weight from the balls of his feet to the heels and back again a few times. He spun quickly around and began arranging the little breakfast table to make a setting for her. He could feel her watching him and his blood rushed in his ears. The urge to touch her again was so strong he felt as if his resolve might shatter into a million pieces.

  “Damn, I sure am glad to have you here. Ain’t had a decent meal in–” Charlie stopped speaking when he saw Kristana standing towards the corner wringing her hands. She looked relieved to have a distraction, then her lips upturned just a bit.

  “Mr. Rhodes, you should be ashamed,” she chided sternly, but with a playful tone. “You know I offered on more than one occasion to prepare meals for you. I’m an excellent cook.”

  Langston couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled up inside him. The sound caught Kris by surprise and she blinked at him. With a flourish of his hand he motioned that the two of them should be seated.

  “This place needs more work’n one woman should’ve been forced to do anyway. I hated to add to your plate.” Chelsea’s soft footsteps padded into the room just as Charlie finished explaining.

  “Oh for goodness sakes, man. Kids don’t eat quiche!” Charlie quipped. “Get this gal some chocolaty cereal or something.”

  Chelsea’s eyes were older than they should have been when she looked up at the old man. She reached out and tugged his sleeve to bring his ear closer to her. “I do like it.”

  Langston spoke as he distributed a hefty helping of food onto every plate: “Chelsea resided with the daughter of the former U.S. Ambassador to France. Their household was very French, was it not?”

  “Oui,” Chelsea murmured, digging hungrily into her meal.

  They finished eating and Kris cleared the table quickly. She’d taken to Chelsea and the girl was enamored of her in return. With the utmost patience, the woman instructed the little one on rinsing the dishes and loading the dishwasher, then the two of them sauntered off to do other “chores.”

  Langston and Charlie were left sitting at the small table, talking.

  “You want us to tell her the truth about the kids?” Charlie asked, rolling the palm of his hand along the knob of his walking cane.

  “I think the more magical children we have in this place the more likely it is that she will discover something about it anyway.” Although magical children generally didn’t come into their powers until puberty, there could be signs early. The act of propelling a ball without the use of one’s hands for instance. It was the major reason so many of these children became orphans and easy pickings for the Org – their parents were either unwilling or unable to nurture their special gifts. “Besides, I am fairly certain I read a power within her as well.”

  “She’s a witch?”

  “I do not know. It is possible she does not know that she possesses it.”

  The old man waved his hand at the giant and closed his eyes a moment. “You know what you’re doing, big guy. If you think we should tell her, then go right ahead.”

  Langston smiled to himself. Jill liked to call him big guy too. For over 50 years his only true friend had been Kent. And over all of the centuries of his life he had developed very few relationships. He’d learned early in his extraordinarily long life that those attachments would prove hurtful to him in the end. There were not many who could live as long as he had. Now he had a circle of friends that held a special place in his heart. He wondered if he might be getting soft.

  Soft reminded him of her. Where was she at this moment? What task was she setting herself to? She had always been a hard worker. He remembered on their farm, in her first life, how she’d worked in the fields until her fingers bled. It would have been so easy to heal her of all of the aches and pains she suffered. It would have been so easy to take her from the hard lives she’d lived.

  “You okay, Lan
gston?”

  It was Charlie’s voice and he felt shaken by it. He was being consumed again with her. She was gnawing at him from the inside. She was so close again and it always happened like this. He would always feel so drawn that it would frighten him. He had always resisted the urge to press her to break her vows. And so he’d always left her. But now he was falling faster and stronger. And this time she was free.

  The giant forced a smile and looked down at his hands. His fingers dug into his knees, causing a throbbing pain. His knuckles were white and when he quickly released his hold he saw that his hands were trembling.

  “Jill said you were cool as a cucumber, but you ain’t cool right now. What’s wrong? Is there trouble?”

  “No trouble, friend. No trouble.”

  It was a lie. He was in a lot of trouble and he knew it. He needed to retreat to be with his own thoughts.

  After a several minutes of wandering the hospital, he found the Sorcerer’s Apprentice room and managed to use his magic to unlock the door. He knew the story and understood why it was locked. This room was what led Jill to be changed to a vampire. He stepped into the empty room, admiring the whimsical mural as he absorbed the solitude.

  *

  Later Langston roused from his meditation, eyes wide and immediately alert. A peek to his right saw that the sun was bright overhead. It must be well past noon. Kristana, his mind screamed. Had she already finished her tasks and left for the day? He uncrossed his legs and stood slowly.

  The hallway was quiet until the cell phone in his pocket began ringing loudly. He slowly unclasped the gadget from his belt loop and opened it, knowing immediately who would be on the other end.

  “Hey there, Langston,” Devan spoke softly. He could almost hear the smile in her voice.

  “Hello, little one. You are well?”

  “We’re good. Kent and I are back. Jill’s staying for a while longer.”

  Langston frowned. “Will she return?”

  Devan’s lovely laugh made him smile. “She’ll return, Langston. You’ll be pleased. I think she’d rather share the details with you, but don’t worry. She’s going to be just fine.”

  Relief flooded over him. Jill was actually Devan’s best friend from college and Langston had only known the young girl for a few weeks. In that time he’d developed a bond with both women that he knew would make for lasting friendships.

  “And Kent has met my father. He’s insisting on a wedding. Kent’s still mulling it over.”

  “That isn’t what I said,” Kent said in the background. Langston heard the sound of rustling and he could imagine the couple tussling affectionately. He wondered what Kris was doing. He couldn’t concentrate. She was here again. So close…

  “Langston? Are you listening? What’s wrong?”

  He forced himself back to the conversation. He was a controlled person. Kristana was the only one who could throw him into such a tailspin. She’d always been the only one.

  “Do not worry, little one. Have you spoken with the Nicky?”

  There was a pause on the other end and he could just about imagine the little indentation between Devan’s eyebrows as she frowned. He waited patiently, knowing that to say anything would be out of character and would set her to worrying even more.

  “Yes. He called. I understand you already have one of the children. There will be more soon.”

  “Yes, we will be ready. Charlie has made arrangements. I will see you soon?”

  “We’ll be in touch. Kent says hello.”

  Langston heard chattering as he approached one of the rooms towards the end of the hallway opposite the living quarters. He said his goodbyes to Devan and Kent, then entered the room still holding the phone in one hand.

  Her voice was like a siren’s call. My Kristin, his mind murmured. Her laugh was intoxicating. It wasn’t lovely but instead thumped along boisterously and almost in a guffaw. When he reached the room he saw her on her knees on a counter, several objects stacked beside her while she dusted the shelf where the items belonged. She scooted forward onto the counter and wriggled her rear end in the process.

  Langston inhaled sharply. Oh, how he wanted her. His entire mind burned hot with need, his blood pounding and searing his veins. He would have absolutely no control soon. The pull he felt to touch her, to take her in his arms, was stronger now than it had ever been.

  “But why rabbits? Don’t you like bunnies?” Kris was saying.

  Out of breath, he struggled to concentrate. His thick brows bridged closer in a frown and he took a short step further into the room. That was when he noticed Chelsea. The little girl was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a set of crayons and a coloring book in front of her. She was sweeping a big blue crayon back and forth, but she was cocking her head side to side as she did so. Her little pink lips were tightly pursed.

  Kristana chortled again, “But you’ve probably never had a pet then, have you? All bunnies aren’t for rabbit stew. Who in the world told you such a story?”

  He watched in awe as Chelsea ceased her coloring for a moment and appeared deep in thought. Her lips still tightly closed, she nodded her head sharply before continuing her task.

  “Oh, I understand. I guess that settles it. We’ll talk to Mr. Rhodes this evening. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

  He realized she was engaging in an entire conversation with the child, but the child wasn’t verbally speaking a word. Did she even realize she was doing it?

  Kris stopped her dusting and dropped her hands to her sides. “Or maybe we should ask Langston.”

  It was his name on her lips that did it. He dropped the cell phone clumsily as he attempted to place it back into the holster on his hip. The sound must have startled her because Kristana leaned back to look at him and lost her balance. She clutched the cabinet door to steady herself, but Langston was behind her in an instant, placing his hands on her hips to keep her from toppling over.

  He heard her gasp, then she released her hold on the wooden door and brought both her hands atop his. It wasn’t a defensive reaction and wasn’t an attempt to remove his fingers. No, quite the contrary. She held tight to him, keeping his fingers on her while she twisted at the waist to look into his eyes.

  “How do you do this? You draw me into you and I lose all decorum,” she asked, her voice a soft whisper close to his lips.

  “I do not believe that is what you were intending to ask me.”

  She shook her head to recover her thoughts. “Chelsea’s never had a pet. She’d very much like a puppy.”

  Langston licked his lips, exhaled slowly, then lifted her with ease from the counter and placed her on her feet on the tile floor. He slid his hands from under her fingers and took two steps away from her, then bent to retrieve his fallen cell phone.

  “Then she will have a puppy.” He spoke as he looked down at the little girl.

  Chelsea’s eyes were wide and bright as she looked up at him. She smiled before opening her mouth to speak, “A real puppy?”

  “A very real puppy.” He spoke in a soothing and assured voice. It seemed to satisfy the girl and she grabbed Kris’s hand and began dragging her from the room.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, her hands instinctively reaching back for the giant.

  “Gotta ask Charlie.”

  He heard Kris’ chuckles echoing down the hallway as Chelsea led her away.

  Chapter 4

  That evening Kris made her way to her vehicle, mulling over the day’s activities. She couldn’t understand the reaction she had to Langston. Even Brock, in all of their newly-wedded bliss, hadn’t had such a complete effect on her. Her skin screamed to touch the giant man. She found his clean earthy musk thrilling and intoxicating. She starved for a taste of his lips. She was becoming obsessed.

  “This is crazy,” she told herself. The voices began snickering and murmuring. This isn’t crazy. I’m crazy, she told herself.

  Sighing, she eyed the makeshift bed in the back of her vehicle. She�
�d been parking in the lot of a deserted storehouse a few miles from here. She figured as soon as she received her first month’s pay in a week or so she’d be able to afford a room somewhere. It would take time to build up enough savings to get an apartment.

  “Kris.”

  It was his voice and she felt something in her belly tremble in reaction. She fumbled trying to open the car door, then finally gave up and turned to face him.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “Did I forget to do something? Do you need something?”

  “Kris,” he whispered her name again. “Why did you not tell Charlie that you have no place to sleep?”

  Embarrassment burned her cheeks hot pink and she stepped to the side, hoping to block his view of her bedding in the back seat. Realizing how stupid that effort was, she dropped her shoulders briefly before squaring and raising her head to meet his gaze.

  “Mr. Rhodes is my employer. There’s no need to tell him my personal issues.”

  With a slight smile, Langston took her small hand securely in his large one and led her back towards the building. He took her to a room not far from the one she knew was Chelsea’s. She’d been in this room before. It was made up sparsely with a bed and some furniture and was one of the only rooms that wasn’t painted in cartoon characters. She saw a bag beside the bathroom and tugged backwards in hesitation.

  “This is your room. I don’t want to–”

  He stopped her with a look. She felt his stare reaching into her, touching her deep inside, and she swallowed to tamp down the rampant desire she could feel pulsing through her veins. His thumb caressed her hand; then he released her, grabbed his bag, and stepped into the hallway. “I have my own arrangements. This room can be yours for now. We will formalize things with Charlie in the morning.”