His eyes closed briefly. He growled, and opened them again. "Enough. I didn't bring you here to fuck your fist."
Lena's pulse hammered in her ears. She released him, stripped off her panties with shaking hands. By the time she straightened, Durbin had the condom in place. He gripped her thighs and lifted her easily. "Wrap your legs around me."
She obeyed, and he sank into her with one smooth thrust. A single panting cry shredded her throat. He gave her a moment to adjust to him, then started to move.
She didn't realize she was moving too until she heard Durbin's breathless voice in her ear. "Holy fuck. Just like that."
She gripped his shoulders and rode him hard. He met each roll of her hips, his breath raw and ragged. Lena tightened her legs around his waist. The head of his cock nudged a supersensitive spot deep inside her again and again and again.
The pressure and friction touched off a chain reaction. Pleasure roared through her at a cellular level. She gasped for air. Her heart thundered in her chest. She barely heard Durbin's hoarse shout as he followed her over the edge.
Lena wrapped her arms around him and held on tight.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
She was back in the familiar bedroom.
Something was moving across the floor. It was dark, like a shadow, but unlike a shadow, there was a distinctly oily feel to it. Its progress was slick and fluid, but it didn't rush. It didn't need to. She wasn't going to call for anyone. Why should she? She wasn't afraid.
It was just one of her friends.
And it wanted to play. Her rosebud tea set was on her play table, though she was sure she'd left it on her shelf when she went to bed. She shrugged. It wasn't worth thinking about. Not when she was about to have a tea party.
She slid out of bed and padded over to the table. It was already set. Her friend was pouring something from the dainty teapot into one of the cups.
Something felt off. She furrowed her brow. "Are you sad?" She didn't know how she could tell; she just could. Mommy called it a gift. She didn't know about that. Sometimes when other people were sad, she felt sad too. If that was a gift, it wasn't a very nice one.
Her friend nodded. Yes. Sad.
Its words echoed in her head. It didn't have a voice that she'd ever heard; when it spoke, it sounded just like her own thoughts. She had never stopped to wonder how that was possible.
She didn't stop now, either. "What's wrong?"
Its formless shoulders drooped. Lonely.
An image blossomed in her mind. It was her, playing hide-and-seek outside with her brother and sister. Mommy sat off to the side watching, her belly swollen with what she and Papa said would be a new brother or sister to play with. They were all smiling, all laughing, all happy.
She knew her friend had showed her the image on purpose; another mysterious skill she had never taken the time to question. For some reason, the sight of her with her family made her shadow friend sad.
She couldn't imagine why, but suddenly, it made her sad, too. Distressed, she wrung her hands. "Don't you have any family? Any friends?"
If it had eyes, it would have looked up. You. Only you.
Feelings she didn't understand welled up inside her. Now she wasn't sad. She was angry. How dare she be happy when her friend wasn't? How dare she have a family when it had no one? She looked around her room, at her canopy bed, at the fairy nightlight, at her mountains of dolls. She had everything, and her friend had nothing. It wasn't fair. It was wrong.
Her friend watched her. The empty darkness where its mouth would have been shifted into what resembled a smile.
Without a word, it passed her the teacup...
Lena awoke with a start. She sucked in a breath, tried to chase the last remnants of the dream from her mind. Then she froze. The air tasted different. She looked around. The room wasn't hers.
Panic clawed at her throat. Before she had time to give in to it, a warm body shifted beside her.
Durbin.
The events of the previous night came back to her in a rush. She was at Durbin's. In his bed.
And she was naked.
She lifted the blankets just enough to slide out from underneath them, careful not to disturb her bedmate. He lay on his belly, face buried in his pillow. Lena resisted the urge to smooth the hair around his forehead, instead tip-toed around the room, collecting her clothes piece-by-piece.
Not ten minutes later, she was fully clothed and standing on the sidewalk below. She briefly debated just making the trip down Third Street on foot. It hardly seemed worthwhile to call a cab for what couldn't amount to more than a seven-minute drive. She glanced down at her drop-dead sexy, thoroughly impractical heels.
She made the call.
Sure enough, the wait was longer than the actual ride. Lena swallowed her pride and paid the driver, then stumbled up the stairs to her apartment. The second she stepped through the door, she hauled in a deep breath. Residue from the dream still hovered in her mind, but it didn't disturb her like it had when she first woke up.
Now she was just tired.
She dragged herself into her bedroom, sat on the edge of her bed and toed off her heels. She toyed with the idea of changing out of her dress, or at least going into the bathroom and removing her mascara.
She was already flat on her back by the time that last thought occurred to her. In a minute. She would just lie down for a minute...
←↑↓→
She stared into the teacup.
Viscous black liquid filled it to the brim. She looked back up at her friend. "What's this?"
Tea.
"I've never seen tea like this before."
I know. Her friend folded its hands on the table in front of it. It's special.
She gazed into the cup again. It didn't look special. It looked disgusting, like something that might back up from the storm drains after a heavy rain. "I... I don't think I want it."
Her friend darkened with displeasure. Just as quickly, it lightened again; at least, as much as a shadow could. Serene energy radiated from it, soothing tendrils that stroked the corners of her mind like a cool hand. It's okay. I understand.
She let out a relieved breath. "You do?"
Of course. You don't want to be friends.
Its sadness rolled over her. Her eyes widened. "Yes I do!"
I don't believe you. It stood dejectedly, and started to retreat back towards the closet.
She leaped to her feet. "Wait! Don't go!" She searched wildly for a way to make amends. Her eye settled on the teacup. She picked it up. "Here, I'll drink it, okay? If I drink it, can you stay?"
Her friend paused. You'd do that?
"Of course I would."
Her friend turned back. If you drink it, I'll never have to leave again.
She beamed. That settled it. She lifted the teacup to her lips, tried not to think about the ugly liquid inside.
At first sip, her eyes widened. "It tastes like chocolate!" She took another sip. Her friend watched.
It almost seemed to be smiling...
Lena didn't realize she'd fallen asleep again until she woke up screaming. Arms and legs thrashing, she clawed her way to a sitting position. She could still feel the thick, sweet sludge oozing down her throat, coating all her deep and hidden places. Maybe it was still there, biding its time, corrupting her from the inside.
She curled into as tight a ball as she could and rocked. A strange keening noise poured out her throat. Dimly, she heard a crash from the direction of her front door. Footsteps. A muttered curse sounded from the bedroom doorway. A few seconds later, the side of the bed sank down.
Warm, strong arms closed around her, tugged. She went without thinking, and found herself cradled against a man's broad chest.
"Lena? Take it easy. You're all right."
MacMillian. Mortified, Lena squeezed her eyes shut, but moisture continued to leak steadily out the corners. To her horror, she could do nothing but bury her face in the crook of his shoulder and let her treacher
ous tears soak his shirt.
He was mercifully silent while she shivered out the last of her surging adrenaline against him. Only his hand moved. It flattened against her back, hesitant at first. When she didn't flinch away, it steadied, firmed. She focused on the sensation like it was some sort of external mantra. Gradually, the seizing pain in her chest subsided.
MacMillian seemed to sense it, and took his hand away. The sudden loss of contact was another, unexpectedly potent systemic shock. Lena swayed.
Instantly, his hand was back. "You good?"
She forced her breathing to normalize. "Yeah, fine." She blinked, gradually aware of the sunlight fighting its way through the blinds, of the sounds of work traffic a few blocks away.
Her body was still humming from the night before. Suddenly, even MacMillian's chaste contact was too much. Lena peeled herself off his chest and cleared her throat. "I'm, um, sorry about that. I just, I had a-"
She broke off. How did she tell him about her dreams without explaining why she had them? She started over. "Thank you for, you know, coming in." Something occurred to her. "Just how did you get in?"
MacMillian wouldn't meet her eyes. "I was outside when I heard you scream. Thought somebody was in here with you." He cleared his throat. "So I broke in."
"You broke..." Lena stared at him. "How? The downstairs entrance is a security door!"
MacMillian shrugged. "I wasn't always a detective, you know. Back in the day, it was my job to get into secure places."
Lena arched an eyebrow. "What were you, a cat burglar?"
"Something like that." MacMillian briefly caught her eye, then looked away again. "My brother and I were repossession agents."
"Wow. A repo man. I guess I can see it." She twisted her quilt in both hands. "So what happened?"
MacMillian stood. The mattress groaned with relief. He shoved one hand in his pocket and curled the other around his cane, then started for the door. "If you're feeling better, we should get going."
The cold change of subject couldn't have made his real message more clear: mind your own business. Lena sighed. "Right. St. Sophia Orthodox Church." She gave each syllable a little extra emphasis. "Give me five minutes?"
His eyes flicked over her, as if noting for the first time her bedhead and rumpled clothes. His expression shuttered. "Of course. I'll be outside."
Lena waited until the bedroom door closed behind him, then slid out of her tangled sheets and onto the cold floor. She padded to the adjoining bathroom as quickly as possible and turned on the shower. Then she caught sight of herself in the medicine cabinet mirror, and groaned out loud.
"Ouch."
No wonder MacMillian had beat such a hasty retreat. She didn't just have bedhead and rumpled clothes. She looked like she'd spent the night under a bridge. Raccoon eyes, pale skin. The wrinkles in her dress had wrinkles of their own.
And then there was the sex hair.
Lena unzipped the back of the dress and let it slither to the ground. At the same time she muttered to no one in particular, "Okay, maybe ten minutes."
←↑↓→
"Are you sure this is okay? I mean, what if they're busy?"
MacMillian pulled the Fury into an open spot on the street and curbed the wheels. "I called yesterday. The rector assured me we were welcome."
Lena fell silent. MacMillian shifted into park, opened the door and pushed to his feet. She waited while he came around the back of the car, then started down the sidewalk at his side.
The tiny Russian Hill neighborhood was quiet for that time of morning, though MacMillian got the feeling it was always that way. Pastel-colored Victorian walk-ups lined both sides of the street. On the corner sat St. Sophia Orthodox Cathedral.
From the outside, it didn't look like much. Situated in a building scarcely larger than those surrounding it, its sole distinguishing features were a couple of royal blue, witch's hat-capped turrets and an impressive dome. A steep set of stone stairs led up to the second-level main entrance.
MacMillian paused at the base of the steps, and turned to Lena. "Before we go in, I wanted to ask-when I came into your apartment, you were screaming."
Lena looked up at him, her expression unreadable. "Yes."
"Want to tell me why?"
If he hadn't been watching so closely, he would have missed the pain that flickered in her eyes. It disappeared almost as soon as he noticed it. She met his gaze without flinching. "I don't know. Do you want to tell me what happened to your brother?"
It was an obvious deflection, but it worked. MacMillian pressed his lips together against the salty sting in that very old, very open wound. He swept his free hand towards the stairs. "After you."
Her eyes lingered on his face. He could see from her expression she knew just what her words had done to him, but she didn't apologize. She simply put her back to him and started up the steps.
She held the door for him at the top. He almost scowled, but decided on a clipped nod instead. For some reason, things felt tenuous between them today. He could only think of one possible explanation. He glanced over his shoulder. "How was your date?"
Her flushed cheeks gave him all the answer he needed. MacMillian shook his head and stepped into the narthex.
The doors to the sanctuary were closed. Eerie, ethereal music floated from behind them. He'd heard the same music since he was a child. Now, as then, it made the back of his neck prickle and the hairs rise on his arms. MacMillian shivered.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
Both he and Lena turned to the speaker at the same time. Before them stood the man from the photograph, dressed in a simple black cassock with a silver cross around his neck. "What you are hearing is the Akathistos Hymn to the Mother of God. We are preparing for a service to honor the icon of the Most Holy Theotokos and Ever-Virgin Mary of Częstochowa. It passes through here on its global pilgrimage later this week."
MacMillian stepped forward. "You must be Father Narvaez."
"In the flesh. You must be Jesper and Lena." The man clasped first MacMillian's hand, then Lena's. "Please forgive our meeting out here. As you noticed, our choir is practicing in the sanctuary. I would hate to disturb them."
Lena wrapped her arms around herself. "It's lovely," she murmured.
Father Narvaez beamed. "We take great pride in our choral program. Just as the holy icons make visible the invisible mysteries of the Divine, holy music allows us to experience the songs of the angels that surround the throne of God."
MacMillian cleared his throat. "We'll try not to take up too much of your time. Like I mentioned over the phone, we're interested in the foundation fragment that was found in North Beach."
"Ah, of course." Father Narvaez pressed his hands together. "Miracles occur in the strangest ways. Some of our parishioners have been following the subway project closely. If you had told us a piece of our original church would be unearthed as a result of it, well, even I would have had a difficult time believing it."
MacMillian crossed his arms. "That must have been something, getting to go down there and watching them remove it."
Father Narvaez beamed. "Yes, quite something. And now to have it here, to have such a tangible link to our brothers and sisters from so long ago, well, it is a true blessing."
Lena shifted. "And have you been back to the extraction site since then?"
Father Narvaez shook his head slowly. "No. Why would I?"
MacMillian studied the other man's face, but failed to find any sign of deception. He adopted his friendliest smile. "Would you please excuse us a moment, Father?"
Narvaez inclined his head and retreated to the opposite end of the narthex. MacMillian guided Lena back a couple steps with a touch of her elbow. He angled his head closer to hers and lowered his voice. "So? What do you think?"
Her eyes flicked between him and the priest's black-clad back. "Honestly? I believe him."
MacMillian sighed. "I was afraid of that. So do I." He turned back to Narvaez. "Father?"
&n
bsp; Narvaez turned, his face open.
MacMillian nodded towards the door. "I think we've taken up enough of your time. Thank you for speaking with us."
Narvaez blinked. "That was it?"
MacMillian barely contained his grimace. "I'm afraid so. We'll see ourselves out."
Narvaez still looked puzzled, but he smiled anyway. "In that case, I hope you found what you were looking for. Our doors are always open, should you have further questions. About anything."
He gave MacMillian a pointed look. MacMillian ducked his head and pretended not to notice. "Of course. Thank you. Lena?"
Lena was already halfway to the door. She paused and flashed the priest a brilliant smile. "Thank you, Father."
She opened the door. MacMillian caught it before she could hold it open again. She looked up at him. He shrugged. "My turn."
She shrugged too, stepped out and started down the stairs. MacMillian followed, one stair at a time. The door clacked shut behind him. Lena slowed her pace, and looked back at him. A deep crease marred her forehead. "He was our last real lead."
MacMillian frowned. He'd been thinking the same thing. "I know."
"So what do we do now?"
He shook his head. "I have no idea."
They had just reached the base of the stairs when Lena's phone buzzed. She sighed loudly and pulled it out of her pocket. Her eyebrows went up. "Cyrus texted me."
MacMillian stepped down onto solid sidewalk and released a breath. "Answer it. Maybe he has some good news for a change."
Lena pulled up the message and read it out loud. "Found another pic from the extraction site." She tapped her phone screen. Her lips parted.
MacMillian leaned forward. "What is it?"
She didn't answer, just turned the phone around for him to see. The photo was of a man in a black cassock and with a silver cross around his neck. Over the cassock he wore a neon colored construction vest. A hard hat sat atop his white-haired head.
MacMillian looked from the photo to Lena's face. "That's not Father Narvaez."
A World Apart (Shades Below, #1) Page 15