Cupid Painted Blind - A Collection of Paranormal Romance Stories
Page 11
She managed to get several hours of sleep in that room before the voices woke her up again. It was a regular occurrence these days. She knew she’d be wide-eyed for a while now so she sat up into the bedpillows, her face scrunched in thought. His earthy scent was still in the room and she lifted the corner of the sheet to her nose a moment. She had to stop obsessing about him.
She decided she was hungry and tossed the covers aside.
“He invited me to sleep here so I guess that means I can eat here, too.”
She found an apple in a bowl on the counter in the kitchen and she savored the sound of her teeth crunching into the red flesh almost as much as the splashing of the sweet juices on her tongue. Tossing any pretense of etiquette, she chewed messily a few times, mouth wide, then took a napkin and wiped at the liquid dribbling down her chin.
She wasn’t sure where she was going when she headed down the hallway. She knew the hospital well enough, but she wasn’t going any place in particular, especially wearing a baggy nightshirt and sweats. There was nowhere to hide. The voices were chattering and tittering and every once in a while screaming to her. She pretended to ignore it and just wandered aimlessly, letting her feet lead the way. It occurred to her the halls of an insane asylum might look similar to this place.
The locked door wasn’t locked. It occurred to her just a few steps after she passed the door. She stopped and tilted her head to the side in thought, then performed an about face and looked again. The door was unlocked and cracked just a bit. She counted the doors from the end of the hallway to be sure it was the right room. Definitely the locked room – unlocked now.
Placing a palm to the door, she pressed it open slowly and tiptoed inside. The voices softened, almost as if they were lowering their sounds to a whisper so that she could sneak inside the room. She saw a light coming from the far corner and heard a successive hissing sound that she realized was snoring.
It was Langston. He was in the center of the room, reclined in a large easy chair with his feet up on an ottoman. He was sound asleep, his face soft and peaceful in a way she’d never have believed. As she got closer she saw a book resting against his chest, though the title was obscured by his huge hands.
A glance in the direction he faced brought her eyes to a magnificent mural. That in and of itself wasn’t unusual in this place. Whoever Jill was, she’d managed to leave her artistic mark in nearly every finished room. But this mural was different, painted with a life that the others lacked. Kris wouldn’t have been entirely surprised if the Sorcerer’s Apprentice popped right off the wall and stretched his hand out to greet her.
“Striking, is it not?”
His voice didn’t startle her. It was as if her psyche could sense the moment he awakened even before he spoke. She nodded, then turned to him. “It is striking, yes. Why are you sleeping in a chair when there are plenty of bedrooms here?”
Langston smiled and then laughed. She could sense his amusement as if it were her own, and she grinned too. “How do you do that? It’s like when I’m with you I get a different… awareness. It’s… weird.”
“We should speak about that. There is much you should know.”
His voice sounded rough and husky and she realized he was sitting stiffly, feet on the floor, hands clinching his knees in tension. She honed in on him, considering what could possibly be the source of such a response. What she found knifed her down deep and created a heat in her core. She found within him a yearning, desperate and strong.
Langston felt exposed, naked and stripped bare. He could see very clearly in her eyes the moment she inadvertently used her powers and touched his soul. The response was instant and just as potent as his own desire. She wanted him as urgently as he wanted her.
It was true she wanted him. Want wasn’t even an appropriate term. She needed him. Her very life depended on it, or at least that was how it felt. This wasn’t her. She had never been the type of woman to be the aggressor, even with Brock. But that was about to change. She couldn’t stop this from happening even if she wanted to. It was too powerful and she needed it more than she needed air to breathe. “Langston, I swear to you,” she spoke slowly, breathlessly, “you only have a second to stop me, because I am going to throw myself at you. Right. Now.”
He said not a word, but she saw his hands loosen their hold on his knees and he released the breath he’d been holding. It was all she needed.
Kris was standing a single step away from him and she fell forward towards him, kneeling onto the ottoman so that her hands could take hold of him at his shoulders. She leaned forward, her lips finding his. Langston’s large hands reached out, his fingers biting into her flesh as he guided her body closer to his. Leaning back in the chair, he stretched his legs out long so that she was lying entirely atop his body.
The kiss was all-consuming, creating an immediate emotional connection between the two of them. She felt her body react, throbbing with desire. This was her man. He was made for her and she for him. No others mattered, before or ever again. In this gentle giant’s arms, she was home.
Langston had never even allowed himself to imagine this moment. She had never been his, had never been obtainable for him to worship in such a way as this. He slipped his arms around her securely and languished in how perfectly she fit to him. Her curves were full and lush and beautifully pressed to his solid form. She was nowhere near his size, but each part of her melded to him as if she’d been molded as his perfect partner.
He stripped his lips from hers to speak against her mouth. “Kris, I will never let you go now. You are mine. Always.”
She nodded, unwilling to argue, just frantic to find his lips again. He denied her, forcing her to bring her black eyes to his. Tell me. She could hear the thought from him as clearly as if he had spoken it from his lips, only he hadn’t.
“I am yours. Always,” she replied.
His groan reverberated off the walls just before he forced his lips against hers again. She sighed in ecstasy when he pulled her tighter against him, then in a single swift movement he lifted her tenderly in his arms and placed her onto the tile floor. It should have been cold, but when she touched her fingers beneath her she realized he’d somehow laid a blanket down. She wondered how he could have managed it; then all coherent thought vacated when his huge but tender fingers slipped beneath her nightshirt to explore naked skin.
Chapter 5
When Kris opened a single eye she could see sunlight slicing into the room through the bottom of the window blinds. She felt more rested than she had in a very long time. Her mind was quiet, no voices at all. The silence was almost deafening. Movement of her legs verified what she already knew. Langston’s body was beside hers. She felt her cheeks flame hot as she recalled the events of the previous evening. Even as that little pang of embarrassment struck her, a smile curled her lips. What a wonderful evening it was.
As easily as she could she rolled over to look at him. He was flat on his back, his hands resting on his broad chest in the image of complete relaxation – or possibly in a death pose. Did I kill him? She smiled, joking to herself.
His own mirth touched her deep inside before she even saw his lips lift into a smile. He didn’t open his eyes and she was glad for it. She was all too aware of the fact that both of them were very naked, so she quickly slipped her baggy nightshirt over her head.
Goodness, he was exquisite. Kristana checked to be sure his eyes were still closed. Satisfied that he couldn’t see her, she took her time gazing at him from top to bottom. At first sight she’d been taken with his massive size; now she was even more astounded to realize that every inch of him was solid and firm. A giant man, with an absolute Herculean form. All mine.
He grinned wider as he opened his eyes. She watched the beautifully contoured muscles of his abdomen tighten as he used them to pull himself upright. Their pallet was near to the wall opposite the mural and so he leaned back against it even as he reached an arm to pull her to him. He embraced her so securel
y that she sighed in contentment.
“What were you reading?” she asked, stretching an arm out to finger the book.
Langston grunted, “It would be more appropriate for us to discuss who you are.”
She leaned back, flinging her dark hair across her shoulder. “I asked you a question first.” She waited but he only stared at her patiently. “I guess you don’t answer questions much. What do you want to know about me?”
“How long have you heard others’ thoughts?”
She felt her blood run cold and she dropped her head down against his bare chest to hide from his query. She swallowed, then trembled a bit as she tried to squirm out of his embrace. Langston’s arms tightened around her.
“Kristana, you need not fear this. I know what has been happening to you.”
Tears welled in her eyes. For months she’d feared discovery. The day someone realized about the voices would mean the insanity was taking over. She was terrified of being locked away, and she had always hoped she would be so crazed by that time so not to even care or notice.
“What do you mean ‘hear voices’? I don’t–” She stopped short. Even as the terror filled her, she found blessed relief to finally have someone to talk to, someone to confide in. “Oh, hell. All right, I’ll tell you. It started not long after my husband died. I knew this day would come. Eventually someone would recognize I’m going crazy.”
His hands slipped to her shoulders and he pressed her back so that he could look into her eyes. “Kristana, you are not crazy. You have a gift.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about. It isn’t a gift!”
“You touch souls, Kris. They speak to you and you will be able to speak back. There is nothing wrong with you. You have a power that is quite unique.”
The voices assaulted her aggressively at that moment and she clinched her eyes closed, surprised by the sudden return of the multitude of voices. Her hand instinctively clutched at her forehead, but Langston brought both of his hands to her temples, pressing hard but somehow pulling away the voices. Her mind instantly quieted.
“How did you do that, Langston? Oh!” she cried, backing away, crawling on her knees to get away from him. “You’re the final phase of it. You’re not real, are you? I’ve gone completely insane now.”
He could feel her terror as if it were his own. How powerless it was to know her pain, her fears so directly. She was linked to him, their souls connected. He continued to press a calm towards her mind to soothe her. He could sense the muscles of her body ease and she exhaled slowly.
“Tell me what just happened, when you placed your hands to your forehead.”
Silence separated them for several moments, then Kris curled over onto her backside and faced him Indian-style. “It’s the voices. They follow me all the time. Sometimes they get louder or softer but they’re almost always there. I’m not able to sleep more than a few hours, and sometimes I can’t even think they’re so loud.”
“And what do the voices tell you?” His question was stated simply, with the utmost calm.
“I don’t know! I can’t understand them. There are too many and they just chatter and talk. You might as well tell me, Langston. I know I’m losing my mind. I know all the signs.”
He snorted, “Where would you get such a thought? How do you believe you know the signs?”
“The internet. All I had to do was search ‘hearing voices’ and I found plenty of research on the subject. I think I have schizophrenia.”
“My dear Kristana, when one searches for something they often find it. You asked the internet to tell you that you were crazy and it did. I would imagine if I asked that same computer to tell you that you’re a medium it would resolve that query as well.”
“A medium?” Her black eyes were wide in confusion, but a flicker of hope seemed to come to life in her expression.
“Well, a medium is a simple description. I would call you a souler. A person who can touch souls. Although I do not understand why you are being attacked by so many spirits and souls at once. It is a mystery we must resolve. You are quickly wearing thin, I believe.”
“I can talk to the dead?”
He smiled gently. “The dead and sometimes the living. It is about souls, Kristana. You have touched my soul.” He saw her smile suggestively. “And our recent intimacy is not what I was referring to. At least not in its entirety. You spoke to Chelsea’s soul just yesterday.”
“I spoke to her soul? What the hell does that even mean?”
He explained to her what he had witnessed, how she had carried on a conversation with the child but that Chelsea had not verbally spoken. She took his words in carefully, digested them with awe and wonder. Then a realization washed over her and she rolled over to her knees again and crawled to him so that their faces were close. “You knew me. When you saw me that first day in the kitchen, you called me Kristen as if you knew me.”
Langston pursed his lips tightly and considered his words. She was so very lovely to him and his heart swelled as he gazed upon her, at the desperate askance in her eyes. He could not lie. He could not avoid the question when he could see how important it was to her.
“Yes, I know you. I have known you for over 130 years. Three of your lifetimes.”
She settled back onto her rear end with a thud, dropping her hands into her lap, her expression aghast. “What?”
“Each of those lives of yours ended very young. You died each time with your husband. This is the only life of yours in which you survived him, and I believe there must be some significance to that. What significance, I do not know. But I have an idea of how we can find out.”
*
Devan stepped through the doorway and smiled at him, though there was concern clearly evident in those piercing gold-brown eyes of hers. She was alone, and once through it, the golden doorway shrank into a speck of light until it was gone. She rushed to his side and placed her hand on his shoulder. “What’s happened?”
He knew he must look foreign to her. He was the rock, the steady one. As Charlie had said, the “cool cucumber.” He was not cool now. He forced himself to stop wringing his hands and smiled.
“Hello, little one. It is good to see you.”
“Langston, for goodness sakes, what’s going on?”
“I will explain. Please, there is someone I would like you to meet.”
His best friend and associate Kent wasn’t with her. That bothered him as much as anything. He’d asked her to call him, to get him here as well, but when she found out he needed her assistance, she’d insisted on coming alone.
Kent was off checking on a lead to some of the children and Devan told Langston she didn’t want to distract him. His friend wouldn’t like this at all. His plan was not without some danger and if anything happened to her because of it – he refused to allow himself to think about that.
Devan gasped when she walked into the Sorcerer’s Apprentice room. She tilted her head back to take in the sight of the mural more fully, and her long braid of lovely brown hair nearly rubbed the floor. “Wow.”
The sound of someone clearing her throat turned both their heads and Kris stepped out of a dark corner meekly and held her hand out to the other woman. “I’m Kristana. You must be Devan. Langston’s told me about you.”
A wry smile cut across Devan’s face and she eyed Langston sideways. “Good to meet you, Kristana. Actually, it’s a pleasure.” She paused a moment, staring more than might have seemed polite. “She isn’t well, is she?”
Langston stepped forward. “Very good, little one. You are honing your abilities quickly. Her aura has been sporadic like that since the day I met her –”
“Since you met me this time,” Kris interrupted, piercing him with dark eyes.
Receiving the unspoken message, Langston nodded and proceeded to explain the story in its entirety. He told Devan his experience with Kristana’s past lives and deaths. After that he allowed Kris to tell them about the strange occurrence when Br
ock died and how she was now being plagued with voices.
“I can’t imagine how troubling that would be,” Devan said, nodding thoughtfully. “Do they ever get quiet?”
Kris shrugged. “Almost never. The only time I’ve had any peace has been a few times when Langston’s been with me, but knowing what I know now, I think he’s using his ‘powers’ to keep them at bay.”
Langston acknowledged the accuracy of her words with a tilt of his head. “This is not the natural circumstance for a souler. A souler can choose to touch souls at whim. They can reach out to people and usually reach them. Sometimes they can reach a person empathically – in other words, can sense their emotions. If the person is stronger, they might communicate with them telepathically. Some people can’t be reached at all. A souler is a medium of sorts and can also converse with the souls of the deceased. Those souls come to them for a purpose; a request or guidance or to right a wrong. The spirits come and go like the change of the seasons. Somehow Kris has accumulated a great many spirits at once. This is not normal, and is taking such a toll on her emotionally and mentally.”
“I assume you have a plan then?” Devan turned to the giant.
He marveled at how much stronger she was now. Certainly finding out she was a powerful witch had done much to develop her confidence. He cut a brief glance to Kristana and silently hoped her gift would also have a positive impact on her life. And mine, he thought to himself.
“I have a plan. I would like to put Kristana into a hypnotic state. I have known her in three lives and this is the first I have detected any semblance of a power from her. I want to know when she actually acquired that power and the only way to do that is to have her tell us.”
“But how will I tell you when I don’t know?” Kris wailed. Her nerves were fraying thin and her patience was nearly non-existent at this point. Ever since Langston had tried to calm the voices, the voices had worked equally hard to make themselves known again. She felt like some battle was being waged deep inside her and that it might soon tear her apart.