Making Love To Death (One Night With Death)

by Kristen, Natalie

  His throat moved but he didn't reply. Instead he shook his head and raked his hand through his hair. “I guess the drugs really did mess with my head. Things are not making sense. I am not making sense. And every time I close my eyes, I see those endless fires, eviscerating, gutting and devouring...”

  Emma saw that he was trembling. “What fires? What fires, Damien?” There was no mention of any fires in the news reports. Was there arson involved? Was he trying to tell her about a crime that he or his associates had committed? Was this an expression of guilt and fear?

  Damien squeezed his eyes shut and slumped back on his pillows. Perspiration was beading on his forehead. “Damien, are you all right?” Emma jumped up. “I'll get the doctor...”

  “No!” His hand gripped her wrist. “Please...don't go...”

  “But you're...”

  “I'm all right. It's okay. Just...stay with me. Just for a while more, Emma.”

  Emma sat down slowly. His grip loosened and she withdrew her hand. What was he talking about? Was he hallucinating and imagining some fiery hell, or was he remembering a crime?

  Whatever it was, one thing was clear. Damien Blake was a tortured soul. And—there was something else about him. Something that whispered to her soul and pulled her inexorably to him. She should not be feeling anything for him, except perhaps pity. But pity was definitely not what she felt towards him.

  Fire, flames—there was something burning in this man. Something dark and dangerous.

  Once he had calmed down and Emma was sure that the man was all right, she told him to rest and to call her office when he was better. Shakily, Emma handed him her business card, avoiding even the slightest contact with his fingers. Forcing a smile to her face, she wished him luck and a speedy recovery and fumbled out of the room.

  As she walked rapidly to the car park, her heart thudded in her ears and her fists were cold and clammy.

  She would be wise to walk away from this man, but instead she could feel herself being drawn to him. “...like a moth to a flame,” she whispered as she started the engine and gripped the steering wheel.

  Whipping out her phone, she typed a message to her secretary: Can you get me copies of every available news report and article about Mr. Damien Blake? Thanks!

  There was something about Damien, something that didn't quite jell with all the reports she had read about him. Emma blew out a shuddering breath and resolved not to think about him. She had quite enough on her hands and her mind. Throwing her car into gear, she sped out of the hospital car park and headed straight home.

  Chapter Ten

  “Mummy, wake up! It's Saturday! You promised to take me to the amusement park!”

  Emma cracked open her eyes to see Luc bouncing excitedly on her bed. She turned to the clock on her bedside table. “What? It's not even eight o'clock,” she groaned.

  “The sun's up. Time to get up!” he hollered, pulling the covers off. “Please...I'll make you breakfast,” Luc offered.

  “And what will you be making?” She pushed herself up on one elbow.

  “Cereal. And milk. And sugar,” he answered immediately. “The breakfast for heroes!”

  “That sounds great,” Emma smiled and ruffled his soft blond hair. “All right, you get the bowls out and I'll join you in a minute.”

  Emma staggered to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. She'd had the strangest dream. She had dreamt of Death, but he wasn't the Death she knew. He wasn't the blond, blue-eyed, tanned, muscular Death who came to her and made love to her and branded himself into her soul. He looked like...someone else, someone she had just met. She shook her head. No, it couldn't be. It was just her feverish imagination playing tricks on her. After meeting Damien Blake last night, her fraught brain had churned up all manner of fantastical, erotic images. As she tossed and turned in her bed, she kept seeing Death—but with Damien's face, and naked body. She could see his toned shoulders and arms, the muscles on his chest and stomach, his narrow waist and hips, long, lean legs and a very aroused cock. Every hard line and angle flashed clearly before her eyes, and she could see his brown eyes darkening with desire as he gazed back at her. The blue ring around his irises glowed as he came closer and closer to her. She could almost touch him. She thought she could feel him caressing her face, the curve of her neck and waist through her silky nightie. He seemed to know her body well, intimately, like he had explored every inch of her before. Emma's pulse and breathing had quickened as the image of Damien Blake loomed large and clear behind her closed eyelids. She drank in the sight of his perfect body, and felt the painful ache of desire in her core. She wanted him, wanted this dark, handsome stranger. But was he really a stranger? Why did his touch feel so familiar?

  Her sleep had become deeper but even more fitful as her dreams grew more vivid throughout the night. In her dreams, she saw herself writhing beneath a man. They were having sex on a large bed covered with satin, crimson sheets. The man's head was bent over her breast as he suckled her so he couldn't see his face. Just as he was about to lift his face to her, a black hood descended and obscured his features. He was suddenly dressed in the black cloak of Death.

  But he wasn't Death.

  He had salt-and-pepper hair, fair skin and his body wasn't as hard and long. The black cloak flowed around him as he stepped away from her. Flames began to dance behind him, and in the middle of those flicking tongues of fire, she thought she saw a man burning. He was standing up tall and straight as the fires consumed him alive. When the man turned his face to her, Emma screamed.

  She had awoken to the sound of her own screams just before the first light of dawn. She was drenched in cold sweat and she had to blink back the tears from her eyes. No, it couldn't be. That was just a dream, a nightmare. Even if it had felt so horribly real. So real she could smell his blood and burning flesh.

  It had taken her a long while to finally fall asleep again, and thankfully this time her sleep was dreamless. And then Luc had come bouncing into her room and onto her bed.

  Clumsily, Emma changed into a T-shirt and jeans, and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She stared at the dark shadows under her eyes and splashed more icy water over her face. Wake up and snap out of it. It was just a bad dream. Even Luc knew that nightmares weren't real.

  “Mummy!”

  “Coming, honey!” she called out as cheerfully as she could.

  She huffed out a breath. It was all Damien Blake's fault. He had rattled her to such a degree that her nerves were all frazzled and her thoughts thoroughly scrambled. She should avoid him at all cost.

  The doorbell jangled.

  “I'll get it!” she shouted, bolting from her bedroom. “What did I tell you? Don't open the door to strangers,” she reminded Luc sternly, who had raced out of the kitchen and was reaching for the door knob.

  She opened the door and gasped. Speak of the devil.

  “Damien! Wh-what are you doing here?”

  He grinned. He was in black jeans and a long sleeved shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow. “I got an early discharge.”

  Emma narrowed her eyes at him. “No you didn't.”

  He shrugged. “Well, money talks, money walks.” His eyes lighted on Luc and he became completely still. Lowering himself on one knee, he reached out and touched Luc's cheek lightly.

  “Hi,” Luc said shyly, and scooted behind Emma's leg.

  “Hi,” Damien answered softly.

  “This is my son, Luc.” Emma stared at Damien as he stood up to face her. There was an expression of awe and wonder on his face as he met her eyes. Emma regarded him curiously. Why was he staring at Luc so intently? Did he dislike kids?

  To her shock, he suddenly pulled her into a fierce hug.

  “What are you...?” she sputtered.

  He held her tightly for a moment and released her. She staggered back, trying to catch her breath.

  “I'm sorry,” Damien said, blinking at her. “I don't know what came over me. I...I've never behaved like this
before.”

  Luc giggled. “If you don't behave yourself, Mummy will spank you!”

  A mischievous glint flashed in Damien's eye as he bit back a retort.

  “Come in,” Emma said quickly. “We're just about to have breakfast. Would you like some coffee?”

  “I'll like that very much. Thank you.”

  Damien stepped into her second floor walk-up apartment and looked around. Luc's toys littered the living room floor, and her files and laptop were on the coffee table.

  “It's a little messy...” Emma began, as she led the way to the kitchen.

  “No, no, it's perfect,” he breathed. “It's...home.”

  Emma arched an eyebrow. This was Damien Blake, tech billionaire with countless luxurious properties and yachts to his name, and he was staring around her humble abode with a look of utter and pure amazement and appreciation. He followed her into the kitchen and smiled at the sight of a box of cereal and two plastic bowls carefully laid out on the dining table. Luc clambered up on a chair and began to pour cereal into the bowls, spilling most of it onto the table. “I'm making breakfast,” he announced proudly. “Want some?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Okay.” Luc jumped off the chair and grabbed another plastic bowl from the cupboard. “You can have my green bowl. It glows in the dark.”

  “I am honored,” Damien said seriously.

  Luc opened the fridge and hauled a carton of milk up onto the table.

  “I'll get that, buddy,” Damien said, taking the carton from Luc. Once Damien poured the milk into the bowls, Luc dug into his cereal with gusto. “Eat quickly,” he urged with his mouth full. “We're going to the amusement park.”

  Emma brought two steaming cups of coffee over and sat down opposite Damien. She eyed him as he chatted and joked with Luc. When he looked up at her, she asked tersely, “Why are you here? How did you know where I live?”

  “I have my sources.”

  “Oh right. Money talks.”

  “Don't take this the wrong way. I...I can't explain this. I don't even know...myself,” he gestured towards his tall, lean body. “I can't even remember why I overdosed. I read all the reports, trying to find something that might make sense.” He shook his head. “The tabloids are speculating that I tried to kill myself over a woman, or some women, or a failed business, or something or other. But I honestly can't remember. It's like I've forgotten chunks of my life...and remembered other bits. And these other bits—” He took a deep breath. “All have you.”

  Emma stared into his eyes, and saw the brown fade completely from his eyes. When she blinked, his eyes had become completely blue.

  “Your...” she started.

  “Can I go now, Mummy?” Luc showed her his empty bowl. “Can I watch cartoons?”

  “Yes, honey,” she said, her gaze flying from Damien to Luc. Why did their eyes look so much alike?

  Luc slid off his chair and scuttled to the living room. A minute later, the sounds of a frenzied cat and mouse chase could be heard blaring from the television.

  Emma stared into Damien's sparkling blue eyes, feeling as though she was staring into an ocean. His eyes couldn't have just changed color. It must have been a trick of the light. Or her mind.

  “What...do you remember about me?” she asked at last.

  He looked down at his cup. His black hair was wet, like he'd just had a shower. A muscle was working in his jaw. Emma stared at his physique, trying to picture his body under that white shirt. He obviously spent quite a lot of time at the gym. There was not an ounce of fat on him. His arms were toned and the shirt stretched over his chest and shoulders. She could feel the heat rising to her face as she remembered her dream. She had seen him stark naked and very aroused.

  When their eyes locked, she flinched from the searing heat behind his eyes. “I remember making love to you,” he said huskily.

  The sounds from the television reached a screaming crescendo. Emma only heard his words echoing incessantly in her mind and all around her small kitchen. Her lips parted but no sound escaped.

  “I know how this must sound...” Damien began.

  Emma shook her head. “No. You don't.”

  “I really don't mean to cause any offense. But it's the truth. Even before I opened my eyes, I saw your face. I knew your name. I can't explain it. It's like you're my anchor. I feel...like I know you—intimately. I know every...” Every curve and inch of your body. How you taste, and feel. His eyes moved slowly down her body, and his throat moved as her breasts heaved at her labored breathing.

  Emma let out a cough and Damien's eyes snapped back to her face. “You mentioned...” She chewed her lower lip. “Tell me about the fire.”

  “Huh?”

  “You mentioned a fire, last evening, at the hospital.”

  Damien scrubbed his hand across his face. “I'm not even sure how to begin...”

  “Take your time.” Emma raised the cup to her lips but she hardly tasted the coffee she swallowed. She kept her gaze steadily on Damien.

  “When I woke up in the hospital, the doctors told me that I was real lucky that I was still alive. I'd had a narrow escape. It's true. I am very lucky to have survived. But I didn't survive the drugs—I don't even remember taking them. I survived the fire,” he said feverishly, his words gushing out in a torrent. “There was fire all around me, not just burning me, but whipping me, scouring me, torturing me. The pain was like nothing I have ever known. I was being ripped apart, piece by piece, my flesh gouged out by the barbs on the flames and my entrails being torn out and scorched. The torture went on forever, but I didn't die. I couldn't die. I had to be destroyed completely...in order to live. I could feel the terrible agony for an eternity, but I was determined to bear it. Those flames were meant to punish me, but also to purify me. So I could redeem myself...and come to you.”

  The cup was shaking so hard in Emma's hands she had to put it down.

  “What else do you remember?” she whispered at last.

  Damien stared at her. “You don't think I'm mad? You don't think that I'm hallucinating, that I'm a stark raving lunatic? You don't think these...visions were brought on by the drugs? That it was just a dream, a nightmare?”

  “What do you think? Do you think that it's a dream?”

  “No, no.” He shook his head. “It was real. It was all real! It happened. I...” He turned his arms over in front of him. “I don't know why there are no scars...” He swallowed a couple of times before continuing, “This body—it doesn't seem to be the same. Like...it wasn't mine, but now it's mine. I know it doesn't make sense, but that's how it is. I'm...not Damien Blake. I was...someone else, yet now I am Damien Blake. I know of Damien's life, my life—” He shrugs and gives Emma a wry smile. “—only from what I've read and heard so far.”

  “So...if you're not Damien,” Emma said slowly. “Who are you?”

  “I don't think I had a name.” He frowned, then added hastily, “But I'm Damien Blake now. I wasn't, but now I am. Makes sense? I thought not.”

  Before Emma could respond, Luc came skidding into the kitchen. “Can we go now? There will be long queues at the amusement park! I want to be first in line! Let's go! Hurry, Mummy, hurry!” He tugged at Emma's arm, trying to haul her off her chair. “Are you coming too?” He turned to Damien. “Would you like to go to the amusement park with us?”

  “Now, Luc...” Emma raised a finger.

  “Yeah. I love the bumper cars, but roller coasters freak me out,” Damien told him.

  “That's all right. You can sit with me. And you can hold my hand,” Luc assured him, offering a sweaty little hand to Damien.

  Emma watched as Damien took the little boy's hand in his large one and held it like it was the most magical, precious thing. The boy's eyes rounded and he let go of Emma's arm to turn to Damien. Luc had always been wary and reticent around strangers, but he seemed to take an instant liking to Damien. There was a powerful bond between them. Emma could sense it. When Damien reached out to h
ug him, Luc didn't recoil. Damien closed his eyes as he nestled his face into the boy's golden blond hair and held him like his heart would break. There was a glimmer of unshed tears at the corners of his eyes.

  When Damien put him down, Luc went back to Emma and said, “Can he come with us? Please, Mummy, he'll be good, I promise.”

  Emma wrinkled her nose. “Are you going to ask if we can keep him next?”

  “Nope. He'll have to ask that himself!” With that, the little boy squealed with laughter and ran out of the kitchen.

  “Oh, I...” Emma gaped at Damien, flustered and embarrassed.

  “The kid's right,” Damien answered in all seriousness. “I will have to ask that question myself. On bended knee.”

  Emma was utterly speechless. Even after Damien shooed her to her room to get changed while he cleared the table and washed up the bowls and cups, she was unable to find a fitting retort.

  Chapter Eleven

  Emma lay in bed, staring out the window. Damien had spent the weekend with Luc and her again. In fact, he seemed to be spending every weekend with them and took them out to dinner several times a week for the past few months. Sometimes he even cooked for them. She often caught him staring at her when he thought she wasn't looking, and the sexual tension between them was stretched almost to breaking point, yet he never once made a move on her. He never tried to hold her hand or her waist, never leaned in to kiss her on the lips. He only kissed her on the cheek when he said goodnight, and even that chaste kiss filled her with desire and longing. She knew he felt it as well. She sometimes saw the arousal in his eyes and in his pants, but he would turn away quickly or excuse himself. This man was an enigma, a walking contradiction. Did he want her, or did he want her? It was obvious he did. And the affection he had for Luc was genuine. Why didn't he try to get her into his bed? He had ample opportunity to do that, and his bed was a sprawling, luxurious affair, one that she was sure he had taken many women before. So why didn't he take her?