by Elise Faber
The blast of holiday jazz died away, but a gust of chilly, damp air still clung to Keely’s coat as the Christmas-carols track replaced a mournful wail of sax and horn coming from the street corner. When she rushed past him toward the front desk, all the essence of The Big Easy swirled in the air around her. The tang of exhaust, humid air heavy with the Gulf’s brine, and the mouthwatering smokiness of roasted meat wafted off the material. A stronger stir of air as the door moved again sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine and raised the hairs on his arms. He remembered how that creamy linen had lain so warm under his hands and framed the round curve of her hips. She’d made quick work of the buttons on his shirt that night. The brush of her against his bare chest, soft and feverishly hot, and waves of trapped body heat that leaked through the weave had formed a scent cloud of desire he’d wanted to live in always.
“Welcome back, Mrs. Stephens,” Higgins, manager of the Toujours, said with a smile as he slid a small wooden box across the desk with the room’s key card on top. “I’d hoped we would see you again but had almost given up on you this year.”
“Thanks for helping with the complications of my travel arrangements,” Keely said and quickly tucked the box into her bag before hitching the straps a little higher on her shoulder. “I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this night with him for the world.” She tugged her coat closed and hugged her arms around her body, glancing to each side before leaning toward the counter a little more. “Could you call and tell her I’m on my way?”
Higgins smiled and gave her his standard head nod. “It was my pleasure, ma’am, and I’ll pass the message along.” He picked up his phone and typed out a quick message.
Keely paused in gathering her things and placed a hand over his on the desk and squeezed his fingers once he’d finished. “Seriously, I don’t know how to thank you.”
Higgin’s smile warmed from the standard be nice to the guests grin into one of his rare, genuine smiles. “On a personal note, I’m very pleased everything worked out for you to come home, Mrs. Stephens.”
“Me too,” Keely said with a wink before turning to go. “See you tomorrow.” She held the card between two fingers and waved with it but paused after two steps to turn back to Higgins. “Oh, I almost forgot. Could you have a bottle of champagne sent up at midnight? We’re celebrating our first decade together, you know.”
“Of course, ma’am. It would be my pleasure, and congratulations,” Higgins answered as his gaze flicked toward Brock then to Keely’s back, since she’d already turned toward the elevators.
Brock pressed a finger to his lips and winked at Higgins because he had plans to surprise her upstairs.
“I hope you both have a wonderful evening,” Higgins called after her.
“We’ll definitely give it our best,” she said with a husky laugh that landed in Brock’s pelvis and revived memories full of heated breath puffed onto sweat-dampened skin in the dark. God, he’d missed that laugh.
CHAPTER TWO
Everything about Hotel Toujours seems exactly the same, even crazy old Higgins. Keely smiled as the door slid closed behind her, and she pressed the button for second floor. Good. Same is exactly what I need right now. And Brock. Damn, she needed him in ways she had no words for after another long year apart. Spending the last twelve months alone, and then not knowing if she’d get back in time, had expanded the already raw, gaping hole in her soul created by missing him. They’d get one night, only this one if things went badly, and by damn, she planned to make every second count so they could be together always.
She leaned her head on the wall and closed her eyes as the elevator pinged once the doors closed and it started to rise.
“My wife,” Brock whispered once the doors slid shut. His lips grazed the thin lace over the breast he’d been giving heavy attention to for the last few seconds. Keely’s fingernails scored his scalp as he turned back to his work with abandon. Hand to the back of his head, her chest pushed into the pressure of his warm mouth through the fabric.
“My,” she gasped, “husband.”
He brought her body to readiness with nothing more than those two words and his gentle touch. Lightly teasing her with fingertips as the elevator rose higher and higher. Hand under her skirt, he caressed the tiny slip of satin separating them. That single stroke communicated exactly what he wanted and intended to have as soon as possible.
She groaned softly and palmed the same breast he’d possessed as the nipple firmed with desire.
The rush of air as the door started to slide open shattered the memory. Keely staggered and pretended to pat her dress down.
“Good that you kept our appointment,” the woman standing in the doorway said coolly. Her maid’s uniform seemed slapped on and uncomfortable over a gnarled frame, compared to the last time they’d met. The bits of feathers, shells, bells, and weather-worn wood on her necklace clashed with the bland color of the polyester. The salt-and-pepper bun, a loose knot at her neck, had escaping pieces sticking out all over. They waved in the air current of the unexpected breeze in the hallway that chilled the sweat on Keely’s skin. “It would’ve been a bad t’ing to skip out on me, especially tonight. Dis his last chance.”
Keely swallowed the lump of fear suddenly jammed in her throat as she stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway. “I wouldn’t dream of running out on my debt to you, Mrs. Glenda.”
“’Tis not me you should be fretting over.” The woman dug in her pocket and clammed up as a guest passed them on the way down the hall. “I know you a good, smart girl who keeps her word,” the woman said and gently patted her cheek. “After tonight, you frets over dat man no more, see?” She held out a hand, drawn and knotted by age and wiggled her fingers. “Dis here what you need if’n you gots what I need.”
Keely nodded and took the envelope from the outside pocket of her bag and held it out between them.
Fast as a striking snake, the woman snatched the envelope and tucked it into her bodice. Then she stabbed the pad of Keely’s ring finger with a wicked-looking hat pin, the head adorned with jewels. Keely hissed in pain as a dark bead of blood instantly welled.
“’Tis only a bit o’misery, chile,” the woman crooned as she squeezed the finger and the drop overflowed the width of Keely’s fingertip and landed with a thick plop on the lid of the box. The old woman’s voice echoed softly off the walls, chanted words Keely didn’t understand, but each one thrummed with a power that vibrated in the air around them. A pink smoke suddenly rose as the grain swallowed the drop whole, not even leaving a stain behind.
“’Tis done,” Glenda whispered. “Peace to you, chile. Se dèt ou peye.” She pressed a cool hand to Keely’s suddenly fevered cheek. A knowing smile curled on her thin lips. “Be at peace now.”
“Thank you,” Keely said and hugged the box to her chest. Yet, she felt anything but peaceful at the moment. A hurricane of emotions swirled and ebbed in rhythm with her heart. Questions, so many questions too. The old woman gave her a last over-the-shoulder smile as she made her way down the hallway to disappear into one of the rooms. It’s finally done. We can get on with our forever now. Keely breathed a sigh of relief and steadied herself on the wall with one hand as she pressed the button for the elevator to return. She shivered as the box seemed to warm in her hands. It gave off a low hum that vibrated the bones in her wrists. After tucking the box into her bag, she dabbed the lingering ooze off her finger with a tissue, and the moment of nerves faded slowly as she waited.
Can this thing possibly go any slower? Brock’s husky voice came back to her mind even stronger with the tingling burn of desire.
Keely rushed into the elevator as soon as the doors opened and hit the button rapidly to close them again and get it moving. She leaned her head back on the wall and closed her eyes with a smile.
“We might make it to the bed,” he’d whispered against her lips on their wedding night. “But no promises on that one.” Remembering Brock’s throaty chuckle sent the wave of lo
nging the old woman’s presence had chased away roaring back with a vengeance. It had been so terribly long since she’d felt anything that the sensations were almost more than her body could handle all at once. She pressed a hand over the throbbing spot low in her belly and squeezed her thighs together. Then the doors closed with a ding and the elevator started moving again.
She laughed too because that night they hadn’t, and for all the anniversaries since, they never had. Brock had taken her against the door, hard and fast — exactly the way she’d craved — then had carried her to their bed and taken his time loving her and letting her love him back.
Keely’s body prickled with anticipation from nothing more than the memory of him as the elevator continued to rise. She tugged on the dress to straighten it and pushed her hair back from her face. A light sheen of sweat slicked her skin, and she slipped off her coat as the elevator slowed.
Finally!
Keely gripped the strap of her bag a little tighter and said a silent prayer that he’d be waiting on the other side, already there and just as eager for her.
What if I’m too late?
The tiny nag of anxiety tried to rise and grow, but she tamped it down hard.
I’ll deal with that later.
The third floor bell almost made her jump out of her skin as the doors started to slide apart.
And suddenly, he was standing there.
Six feet of muscle honed down by the military life they’d both lived. Long-legged and smooth-skinned, the coffee-with-cream coloring he’d inherited from his Cajun mother warmed even more by a sudden flush in his face. The most amazing whisky-brown eyes banded with green she’d ever known widened, and he flashed that killer smile he saved only for her.
“Hey, you.”
“Brock!” She dropped her bags one step into the hallway and leapt into his arms. Their breath fogged in the air between them as he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her off the ground, and squeezed the rest of her breath out.
“My love,” he huffed against her neck and turned her insides to molten goo. “God, I missed the hell out of you.”
“So much,” she said, and the first of her many tears ran down her cheeks. “So terribly much.” She pressed her palms to his face and kissed him the way a drowning woman takes her first breath of air as he pressed her to the wall next to the elevator.
“Room, Brock,” she whispered between kisses.
He chuckled, full-throated and brimming with all the wickedness she knew he saved only for her, for always. “You should know better than that by now, cher.”
CHAPTER THREE
Keely smelled even better than he remembered, like something fresh out of the fire and sweet. If you’re lucky, maybe even sprinkled with powdered sugar in all the right spots. He moaned into their kiss as she wrapped her long legs around his waist, and they stumbled toward the door. The key card pressed hard between his shoulder blades as she clung to him, lost in kisses and frantic with the desire to make up for all their months apart. Yet, under the familiar taste and touch of her, something tickled the back of his throat and made him want to cough.
“Turn me,” Keely gasped between kisses as she reached for the lock, missing the slot a few times before the red light switched to green.
He set her on her feet only long enough to kick the bag inside the door and close it before pushing her back against the wood. She purred against his ear, a rolling, hungry noise that set his every nerve on fire as she tugged his shirt free of his pants. Her nails raked his lower back, and the urge to cough grew stronger.
He fought the irritation in his throat as he gripped the back of her neck, taking her mouth in a rough kiss. But the nagging tickle only increased with each breath.
“New perfume?” he asked and tried clearing his throat to ease the aggravation of it distracting him from her lips.
She blinked, the lusty haze not completely clearing from her eyes as she shook her head and moved forward to continue what he’d started.
“Take me,” she begged. “Hurry.”
He fought his own haze of desire to focus on her as he brought her leg to rest wrapped around his hip. He slipped two fingers inside the satin and lace, and she gripped his shoulders. Her nails bit into his skin as he caressed her, gently at first, building to their ending. Every caress of tongue mirroring his fingers. But he wanted togetherness their first time, he needed to be there with her when she shattered. A thrill of anticipation zinged down his spine as she shivered and moved against his drenched hand. When she started to moan in time with his touch, he couldn’t wait any more and jerked his fly open to press that last bit closer.
Home.
She grunted her pleasure softly against his cheek, and the tenuous thread of his control strained to hold back.
His breath came out in a long sigh of her name.
Finally. Nothing separated them as the heat that had haunted his dreams for the last 364 days wrapped and cradled his body. His shuddering sigh moved the curls off her ear as he started to roll his hips harder. His hand pushed into her hair, palming her head as she whispered against his lips. Her love. Her need. He echoed her devotion, owning her, reminding her who she’d always belong to no matter how long they would be apart.
Then that damn tickling itch turned into a tug, and he grunted to keep the cough inside.
Keely whimpered and squirmed hard enough his fingers tightened in her hair to hold her still, driving them harder toward bliss. Deep in his chest, the debt he owed to have this night with her suddenly sliced into his soul. The price.
A payment he would forever owe for his one night of being able to make love to his wife again. As a real man, not a miserable haint, but flesh made whole and warm. The one chance for his spirit to return to the land of the living, though limited, oh so real. Keely cried out on his next thrust, and he followed her into his end. With their reunion finally solidified as he marked her, the hook yanked a fresh piece of him away.
Darkness edged his vision as his soul bled, mortally wounded, and that bit of what kept him human became lost to him forever. Yet, this was the worst he’d experienced. Each loss had been awful, but this time he’d actually sensed his soul break beyond its ability to keep him whole. His greatest fears rose so hard and fast he staggered as he pushed back from her hold.
“Brock, you’re shaking,” she said, breathless but rock-solid under his hands. “Here, take it easy.” She held his arm as they moved deeper into the suite. “Let’s sit on the bed.”
“Keely,” he whispered as the wound expanded more than it ever had in the past, all the borrowed time stacking up against them. “Something’s wrong.”
She paused and seemed to finally see how the price had started to change him on the outside too, and her flushed skin lost a little of its color. “What is it?”
Brock shook his head as the sensation gripped his throat to the point he leaned over, hands to his knees. No way could he tell her that this very thing had terrified him. How the time passing had started to transform him, each year slowly chipping away at what was left of his humanity. He’d been warned that in his tenth year, the choices he’d made would come home to roost. But he wasn’t sorry. Their nights together every year — they’d been worth any price he’d had to pay. Now if he could somehow find the courage to tell her they would be coming to an end at sunrise.
Brock slowly straightened and put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she asked, and her chin began to quiver. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
He let her lead him to the bed and held her trembling hand between both of his, her dark eyes wide and terrified, the way he hated to see them more than anything in the world.
He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and pulled her close.
She needs to know.
Keely had to be told, yet he had never wanted to avoid something so bad in all his days. However, he’d run out of time to put off this discussion another second.
“Ch
er, this year.” He held her face and tried to smile, but it stuck halfway formed on his lips, stiff and cold. “This is our last anniversary to meet this way.”
Her mouth opened into a little surprised O as she gripped his wrists. “What do you mean?”
He inhaled… and let it out slow… to try and find the right words. “When it first happened, I was so lost. Wandering and miserable. Somehow, I made my way back here. Higgins found me tormenting some asshole in 201 who had been mean to the staff.”
Her cheek twitched under his fingers as if she wanted to smile. “Sounds like something you’d do. So were you being an especially hateful haint?”
He did snort a laugh at that. “I really was. I hid all the guy’s rubbers before his date arrived, and then his key card. Girl got so pissed she left him literally hanging out in the hallway.”
Keely covered her mouth to hold in the laugh as his hands moved down to slowly caress her shoulders. “Oh no.”
“Yep, locked outside the room in his birthday suit.” He straightened and pretended to preen as the anxiety swelled larger. “I’m still especially proud of that one.”
Keely laughed aloud, and the hollowness in his chest eased a little. His insides weren’t such a black hole now. Just a wound and one he could endure while she was there. He had time later, more time than he wanted, to worry about the price once she wasn’t in his arms.
“So what’s this about it being our last anniversary together,” she said, turning serious and using her officer’s voice. Gentle, yet holding a threat of power that never failed to feed his fire of desire in life and now death. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, like I said…” He cleared the sensation of nerves trying to choke him. “…Higgin’s found me. After some pretty colorful combinations of the words dead folks and son-of-a-bitch, he took me to meet someone who he thought might help.”