by TJ Michaels
Dressed in a pair of tailored gray slacks and a black dress shirt open to the middle of his chest, Faison appeared on stage. The crowd exploded. An overhead spotlight illuminated his skin. Immediately his dark gaze found and settled on her, picking her right out of the crowd with ease. Almost like some kind of De’alla radar. And that gaze brought with it a beam of lust and light that seared her to her very core. And it felt good. Right. And she was out of her damn mind to think so.
God the man was sexy. All that dark hair and those beautiful eyes. And lord, forget about that sinfully handsome face. To her surprise, she even enjoyed his snarky sense of humor and odd pursuit of her. It made her feel good to know that Faison really wasn’t an old hat at flirting or getting a woman out of her clothes. Oh and forget about the fact that his voice set her pussy on pure-dee fire.
Then Faison played to the crowd as he made his way up and across the stage. With one toe planted on the very edge, the man sang to her. His eyes never left hers and she didn’t have the strength of will to look away. Nor did she wish to. As the words of the melody drifted out to the audience, to Dee the crowd melted away until it was just the two of them.
Faison seemed to glow, as if his aura flowed out of him as he poured his heart and soul into his music. Suddenly the breeze picked up and Dee sensed that this particular love song was more than words set to pretty music for Faison. It reached deep and unexpectedly touched her heart just as the warm summer air wrapped around her body and gently embraced her. The elemental energies inside her reacted to the wind’s touch in a way she’d never experienced before, as if her gift craved to open up to the flow of air around her. It was strange yet comforting. Unsettling yet exhilarating. Foreign yet welcome.
Dee had heard Faison sing plenty of times in Japan, both in person and on CD. Even on a couple of soundtracks for a few Japanese movies while she’d been in Tokyo. Something about his voice had always called to her. Called to her enough that she’d kept up with his albums. But to her, it had been about his songs and only the songs because the man himself had such a rotten reputation that it stank to high heaven. Yet here she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, happily flying into the fire without a care for how the heat might destroy her.
The song was over but the spell remained. Even as he moved about the stage and worked the crowd Dee felt as if her very soul swam in him, connected in a way that didn’t make sense.
*It would make perfect sense if you simply believed what your instinct is telling you.*
“She, your timing sucks,” Dee silently grumbled.
Besides, Dee knew her instincts couldn’t be correct, not if Angela’s story from so many years ago was right. Faison would have to have a crystal that matched hers, a Piece of Eight. And so far she hadn’t seen anything. Even right now while sweat poured from his body and his shirt was open nearly to the waist there was nothing around his neck. No pendent. No necklace. So he couldn’t be the one.
So what was this thing she was feeling? Could she just be so horny that a rogue like Faison made her hot and wet? Sticky and needy?
Perhaps he was Asmodeus? That would explain why she was out of sorts, right?
No, no, no, no and no!
Her sisters had made it pretty clear what being in that demon’s presence was like. She didn’t feel drained of life in Faison’s presence but energized and, to her surprise, deeply cherished. But if Faison didn’t have a stone, why did she feel so gaga around him?
Hmmm, she didn’t feel nearly as loopy or attracted to the guy she’d recently met, Devon something-or-other, also knows as Mr. Faceplant in the Sand. He was cute, nicely built and very smart. Not to mention he wanted to fuck her brains out. Question was how the hell did Dee know that? She wasn’t empathic like her sister, Charlotte, but there was no mistaking the nasty and deliberate emotions she’d picked up from the man. Or was it herself? It was hard to tell. It seemed as if her thoughts were not her own when around that guy. A simple thought about sex turned into the raunchiest fantasies imaginable. It made her extremely uncomfortable.
But not because she was uncomfortable with her sexuality. No, the thoughts made her uneasy because she was comfortable with what she wanted in bed. It didn’t make sense because to Dee sex was beautiful and nothing about it was tainted, out of bounds or wrong. So why did it feel wrong in Devon’s presence? Why was it so dark, forbidden and perverted?
But enough about Devon. The concert was almost over and just thinking about seeing Faison at the private after-party set her pulse to a gallop. Maybe he would kiss her again. Replaying the reaction of her body to his kisses in her mind, she certainly hoped so.
Interesting. She’d gone full circle from thinking she was a fool to come here to straight anticipation of spending a few minutes in Faison’s embrace.
“Gods, what a mixed-up elemental I’m turning out to be.”
She laughed quietly in the small corner of Dee’s head. Dee rolled her gaze up to the dimming sky and huffed. She laughed harder.
* * * * *
“Hey there. Fancy meeting you here.”
“Uh, yeah, fancy,” Dee mumbled, practically dumbfounded. It was Devon, the same man she’d run into—literally—on the beach a week ago. She’d just finished with her early morning workout and started the daily jog back to her cottage on Alki Beach when this man was suddenly running beside her. He’d flashed a brilliant smile then apparently tripped over his own feet. She’d bitten the inside of her cheek and tried not to laugh as she backtracked quickly to see if he was all right.
Other than a face full of sand and clumps of sea plant sticking out of his hair like a homegrown tiara, he’d appeared unhurt. She’d reached to help him when the strangest sensation wrapped her in a smothering blanket of unease. The second the skin on his hand touched hers the bottom of her gut exploded with nausea so acute she’d been surprised she hadn’t blown chunks right there on the beach.
Dee had snatched her hand back then blushed with embarrassment. She wasn’t usually so rude and always kept her emotions in check. So what had made her flinch away from the man like that? At the time she’d decided to ignore it. Besides, she’d felt bad about his face plant in the sand.
Instead of walking away, Dee had offered to buy him a coffee at the nearest cafe. It had been on her way, so no harm done, right? Wrong. After a mere thirty minutes of cappuccino and conversation Dee had wanted nothing more than to run to the opposite end of the earth from Devon and never look back.
She screamed in her head the entire time but the entity’s voice had seemed muted, muffled and Dee couldn’t make out what her guide had been trying to tell her. Then the nausea she’d experienced earlier on the beach had grown in proportion to her unease as they sat in the cafe. Basically, it felt like her stomach turned itself inside out while twisting and flattening all at the same time.
But why? Devon was any woman’s wet dream. Tall but not overly so, the perfect height for kissing. His skin was a deep, deep tan and his features evident of a mix of cultures. Midnight black hair shot through with hints of chocolate brown. His eyes were dark, exotic, the irises rimmed with dark gold that projected intelligence and wit. The shorts and tank top he’d been wearing on his unfortunate jog had shown off a long, lean body cut with muscle. He was a well spoken geeky type, brilliant actually. Yep, right up her alley. Damn gorgeous. Even his teeth were perfect. So why the aversion to him?
Was it the fact that he’d managed to “run into her” almost every day over the past week? Or that her eyes enjoyed the view but her spirit was less than happy to see him? And she didn’t even want to think about the images that flashed behind her eyes when in his presence. Lust-filled, but not in an inviting or arousing way. It was as if her natural enjoyment of sex was sucked out of her and replaced with dark, depraved thoughts, and all against her will. Like being mind raped by the most perverted creature on earth. It was unwelcome and both scared her and pissed her off at the same time.
It hadn’t made sense the day she’d m
et Devon on the beach, nor the last four or five times she’d seen him around town since then. And, damn it, it didn’t make sense now.
“Can I buy you a drink or something, Dee?”
He smiled and her stomach lurched again.
“No.” Gasp. “Thanks.” Gag. She felt too sick to drink anything. Even water probably wouldn’t stay down at this rate.
“I was hoping to see you again. I didn’t know you would be here tonight. We could have ridden together. I really enjoyed our coffee time together the other day.”
“Yeah,” she said, trying not to squirm in her seat. “Minus the face plant, eh?” She tried to laugh. Really tried. But the sound stuck in her throat as it closed up and refused to let any air through.
“You know, you’re really something special, Dee. So ambitious, honest. Real. No pretention, yet you’re classy and beautiful. I’ve been searching for a woman like you for too many years to count.”
Hmm. How could words sound so true yet ring so hollow? Not to mention the strange chill emanating from her crystal. The thing was so thoroughly icy it was as if her own irritation reached through the stone, passed through the silk pouch it rested in and slithered up the silver around her neck to sink into her skin. Nothing like this had ever happened before.
Well, hell. She was having all kinds of new experiences lately. First the blazing heat of the stone in Faison’s presence and now the chill of the same crystal while in Devon’s.
And She was screaming again, or trying to. Dee sensed the frustration of her guide’s sudden inability to communicate across their well-established bond. Knowing the spirit struggled to warn her of something, Dee instinctively slipped her hand beneath her wrap and fingered the chain of her necklace hidden beneath her clothes. She discretely stripped the pendant of its protective little pouch. The second the stone hit her hand the grave-like cold dissipated replaced by peaceful warmth. The stone filled her with strength and clarity of mind. And she knew it was time to go.
Suddenly a voice burst forth as if it had forcibly freed itself from a miring pit of smothering clay or quicksand. Along with the clarity of mind induced by the stone came the clear bell of She’s voice in Dee’s mind.
*RUN!*
And Dee knew better than to hesitate. This very same voice with this very same insistence had saved her and her sisters’ respective asses too many times to count when they were growing up. But was it Asmo? Was it really him? Damn it, she couldn’t fight the demon now. One, there were too many people around. And two, she hadn’t yet joined with her mate, still wasn’t sure if it was Faison or someone else. Crap, she had to get away and right now. She had to protect the crystal, protect her Piece of Eight.
“Uh, excuse me, Devon. I’ve got to be going.”
“Aren’t you staying for the after-party?”
And just how did he know about that? Faison had told her that the after party was for special guests only and that the public didn’t even know where it was going to be held. Interesting.
“No. No party. Sorry.” She eased from her seat and pulled her soft pashmina wrap even closer around her shoulders, gripping the crystal underneath like a lifeline.
“Ouch!” A rock in her shoe caused her to stumble but she quickly righted herself. A glance up and her temper simmered. Her shawl had slipped and Devon eyed her cleavage. Correction, eyed her crystal! The man watched the flex of her fingers, the lift of each knuckle as Dee grasped the bright shard of lemon yellow quartz, hiding it from view. His gaze practically bored through her skin at the very spot where her hand rested against her chest with the stone tucked safely against her palm.
But Devon hadn’t moved to try to take the stone from her. Maybe he wasn’t old Asmo? Besides, he appeared to be too nice, too…geeky. Certainly not demon-like enough to be Asmodeus, right?
Well Dee didn’t have time to figure it out just now. She was losing it big-time and insisting that Dee go find Faison. Nope. No way. Her emotions already spanned the globe—she was physically ill, her crystal and She were both off kilter. The very last thing she needed was to add Faison and his lust-inducing, manly goodness to the mix. So she would just head up the beach and go home instead. A nice bath, a glass of sake. Her gut lurched when she glanced at Devon again. Gack! Perhaps a pitcher of Pepto?
“Take care, Devon. Nice to see you,” she lied. “Bye.” And hustled as quickly as the ridiculous high heeled sandals she wore would allow. Who the hell wore high heels to a beachside concert anyway? It was times like this she actually hated being an elemental since certain lapses into flighty fickleness were their nature. Sigh.
At not quite four awkward steps an iron band clamped around her wrist. What the hell?
Not an iron band, but Devon’s hand. And his body language said he wasn’t inclined to release her anytime soon.
“Devon?”
“Come on, Dee. It’s early yet.”
Dee tugged. He didn’t let go.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure I’d see you again. When can we get together? Can I get your number?”
“Sorry, Devon. You’re nice and all but I’m just not interested.” Well, not in you anyway. But all-out giddy over a snarky-assed, too-full-of-himself pretend playboy R&B singer from Japan? Yeppers.
Well, hell.
“Excuse me, but take your hand off me.” Dee’s words were deliberately quiet. She was pissed that the idiot dared touch her but she didn’t want to make a ruckus. After all, this was Faison’s gang of groupies. The concert was over but the venue was packed to capacity and the media were everywhere. The last thing she wanted was to end up on the front page of the local gossip rag.
Dee pulled on her wrist again but Devon still held on. If anything he stepped closer, never taking his eyes from hers. Strange. His eyes were brown and gold the other day. Now they looked…black? Flat. Dead. Ewww.
“I said. Let. Go.”
This time Dee felt the power of the stone simmer and flare just as her own innate ability moved to protect her. If this asshole wasn’t careful, given the fact that Puget Sound was spittin’ distance away, he’d find himself dealing with a full-blown thunderstorm compliments of Hurricane De’alla.
“Why don’t we go walk on the beach, Dee?”
And while his tone was nice enough, the steely cold flatness of his eyes belied the illusion.
“If you don’t take your hand off me I’m gonna have to kick you’re a—”
“Excuse me, but I believe the lady wishes to leave.”
Faison? Double damn it.
“Hi, Faison. I was just going home.”
“You weren’t going to take off without saying goodbye, were you?” The devilish gleam in his eyes sent warmth clear through to her pinky toes. And the sensation gelled with the crystal, with her elemental energies and sank right into her skin dispersing the nausea and chill of mere moments ago. His presence comforted her. Eased her.
“I’d planned to send you a note tomorrow or something,” she said, directing her focus to Faison. The energy that swirled within the crystal strengthened and she felt Devon’s grip involuntarily slip as if his fingers were being pried away. “I enjoyed the concert, Faze, but I have an early day tomorrow. I really need to go.”
“Lunch tomorrow, Dee?” Faison asked.
Devon let go.
“Oh so you two know each other?” Devon asked. He didn’t deserve a response. Asshat.
“Well, how about I walk you to your car?” Faison asked, completely ignoring said idiot.
“Sure.”
“Uh, that means you can go,” Faison said, his gaze squarely on Devon just long enough to dismiss him. He turned back to her, held out his arm in a gentlemanly fashion and said a single word.
“Dee?”
Huh. Well, who’d have thought Mr. Faison Dow could be the gallant hero type?
Without bothering to actually look at the person to whom her words were directed, she said, “Good night, Devon.” With that Dee took the arm Faison offered and let him le
ad her away. It was the wrong direction, since her house was on the other side of the amphitheater tent. But who the hell cared?
As they left Devon behind she had a feeling she hadn’t seen the last of Mr. Persistent Face-Plant-In-The-Sand Guy. Probably was the daggers she felt him staring at her back as she left with Faison.
Dee made no secret of her dislike of the unwanted suitor. Though Faison’s temper boiled just below the surface, he forced himself to calm while she, a true lady, attempted some discretion as she tried to yank away from the man. Faison knew, just instinctively knew, that if Dee didn’t free herself soon her ladylike behavior would be dropped by the wayside in exchange for some serious attitude and possibly an ass kickin’ for old Devon here.
He couldn’t let that happen, now could he? Faison focused his energies on the fingers clasped around Dee’s wrist. He easily manipulated the bit of air between the guy’s hand and her skin and expanded it with just enough force to pry the grip away. Faison hoped like hell Dee hadn’t noticed that her persistent admirer’s touch hadn’t left her wrist on its own.
So here they stood, three people staring each other down in the midst of a horde of admirers who’d just watched him entertain as if his life depended on it. They all wanted a story, all wanted his attention, all had something to offer him or something they wanted from him. And Faison didn’t give a shit. All he knew was that if the idiot touched Dee again there would be hell to pay. In fact he found himself hoping the asshole, who obviously couldn’t take no for an answer, would start something just so he could pound him into the sand for getting Dee upset.
Devon didn’t bother pretending he was happy with Faison’s interference. In fact, Faison thought retribution might be forthcoming though the man’s perfect-’n-nerdy face gave nothing away.
You’re pissed? Well, so the hell what. Bring it, cupcake. For a second Faison thought the other man picked up his thoughts, though such a thing was surely impossible. Then again, he was an air elemental—his very existence was supposed to be impossible.