by J.M. Cagle
Chapter 8
She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. A private plane. A yacht. A private train car. All the protagonists in paranormal novels were filthy rich.
Apparently Sam wasn’t.
But he wasn’t a vampire, either.
They rushed her out of the city in another SUV to Austin-Bergstrom International. The man who had come to tell Sam they were ready to leave was with them, having returned to a more normal appearance, his mouth as beautiful as Joey had assumed it would be without the fangs. Jackson was there, too, a bag over his shoulder and a smile on his lips, as though they had been planning this trip for years.
Joey made the mistake of looking too closely at the female TSA agent who was manning the metal detector. The woman smiled, but as often happens, her face began to slip and Joey was given a peek at what was underneath. It wasn’t as hideous as Mrs. Hernandez had been, but there was still a darkness there that was like a punch to Joey’s gut. She stiffened, unable to take her eyes from the woman’s face.
It was a ball of snakes, all writhing and twisting around empty eye sockets. The snakes were an unnatural color, something between red and purple, swollen like new blood blisters, their mouths hanging open as though they could not get enough air otherwise.
“Oh, no,” Joey whispered, beginning to sway on her feet.
Sam moved up behind her and put his hand gently in the small of her back. “You okay?” he asked, his lips close to her ear.
“Snakes,” she whispered.
“Look away,” he advised Joey even as he stared at the agent.
She shuddered. The agent must have noticed because her smile faltered. “Is there a problem?” she asked Sam.
“My wife is a little unsteady on her feet,” he said with a quick, charming smile. “Kept her up too late last night, I guess. Wedding night and all that.”
“Congratulations,” she said, grabbing the handheld scanner. “Do you want me to search her by hand?”
Joey shuddered again, the idea of that ball of snakes coming so close twisting something in her intestines.
“No,” Sam said, gently pushing Joey forward. “She’s fine, just needs to get on the plane and have a little cat nap.”
“Okay,” the woman said, looking a little uncertain as she watched Joey walk through the machine.
Joey didn’t start breathing normally until they were at their gate, handing their tickets to the gate agent. Sam stayed at her side, guiding her gently with a small amount of pressure on her back. The feel of his touch continued to make her stomach do funny little flips, a fact that did little to settle her nausea. But she didn’t move away.
She and Sam had seats together in third class while Jackson and the other vampire sat several rows ahead of them. “Where are we going?” Joey asked as soon as Sam had stowed their few carry-ons, dark, heavy bags with contents she was totally oblivious to. She wasn’t even sure if anyone had considered packing her a few things, like a change of underwear.
“Springfield, to begin with.”
“Springfield? As in Illinois?”
He nodded. “Ever been there? It’s a pretty place.”
“No,” Joey said, watching him, wondering how they were having what seemed like a normal conversation after everything that had happened today. “Have you?”
“Many times.” Sam pushed her back in her seat gently and reached for her seatbelt. “Buckle up.”
“Aren’t we the safety police.”
“Can’t take any chances.”
Joey chuckled, remembering how her mother once told her that every time she reminded her to do some mundane thing, like wearing a helmet when she rode her bike. “You sound like my mother.”
“So do you.”
The tendons in her neck screamed as she looked up because of the rapidness of the movement. “You’ve met my mother?”
Sam picked up the in-flight magazine, glancing through it as though looking for something specific, before he put it back. “A few times.”
“How? When?”
“I’ll explain later,” he said as he laid his hand over hers.
Joey pulled away. “I’m tired of hearing that. You asked me to trust you,” she waved her hand around, indicating the fact that she had allowed him to bring her on this plane, “but you won’t trust me enough to tell me what the hell is going on.”
“Joey.”
Just the sound of her name on his lips took the bite out of her irritation. She sat back, her eyes moving to the window and the ground crew preparing the plane for flight. One of the men was standing some distance from the plane, gesturing to an unseen person about some unknown task. When the man looked up, his ruddy, middle-aged face slipped and Joey could see the face of a child underneath. The child had big, wide eyes and a smile that would break the hardest of hearts. There was sadness there, a profound sadness that came from darkness, but the smile persisted. It brought tears to Joey’s eyes.
“What?” Sam asked, touching her cheek as he leaned over her to look out the window.
“It’s happening on its own now,” she whispered. “I can’t control it. I’ve never seen someone who wasn’t looking me in the eye—”
“Shh,” Sam said, cupping her jaw in his palm. “It’s okay.”
“No,” she shook her head, tried to shake off his touch. “I’m scared, Sam.”
“I know,” he said.
He pulled back, settling in his seat, but he pulled her with him. He might have intended for her to put her head on his shoulder, or he simply didn’t realize he was still holding her face. But, somehow, her lips ended up just a breath from his. The heat of his touch, the adrenalin of the day, the anxiety of the changes in her vision—she wasn’t sure why it happened. But it did.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.
He didn’t respond, didn’t move. He didn’t push her away, but he didn’t kiss her back.
Joey felt heat pulsing in her cheeks as she moved away, wrapping her arms around herself as she sat back in her own seat. “Sorry,” she muttered under her breath.
“Don’t be.”
And then he was there, invading her space, invading her peace of mind. His lips were so soft there was nothing to compare them to. And the taste of his tongue as it gently urged her lips apart . . . his smell enveloped her, wrapped her in a cocoon of sensory memory: of baking with Dotty, of dancing at her first formal, of walking through the door of home after her first semester at college. It made her heart beat faster, made her nerves come alive with an intensity that made it seem as though they had never, truly, been alive. It was like she had just found something that had been missing from the moment of her birth.
She opened to him, responded to his touch with an eagerness that might embarrass her when she had a chance to think about it, to analyze it, later. But in the moment, she couldn’t welcome him inside of her faster, couldn’t accept the intrusion of his tongue, the taste of his lips, the feel of his exploration, with any more joy. His hand shook as he pulled her closer, his thumb carefully caressing the hollow of her cheek even as his tongue found the tender flesh hidden inside there.
It couldn’t last. The truly important moments never can.
“Sir,” came a familiar voice. “There’s something you should know.”
Sam pulled away, and it was an amputation, the theft of something so desperately needed. Jackson was standing over them, his body the familiar, anemic music teacher once more.
“What is it?” Sam asked a little impatiently.
“It’s happened again. A tsunami in the Pacific.” Jackson paused. “Japan is gone, sir.”
Sam tensed. Joey could see his muscles grow rigid from his thighs to his neck to the way his hands clenched into fists in his lap.
“What?” she asked, wanting to reach over and smooth the muscles of his thighs with the touch of her hand.
“It’s begun,” he said quietly.
Jackson’s fangs flared in his tense jaw before he rais
ed his hand, smoothing away the jutting jaw as though it were just a lump in a bed. “Yes, sir,” he muttered before he turned and walked back up the aisle to his own seat.
“What’s begun?” Joey asked, biting back her fear and hesitation as she smoothed her hand over his, slipping her fingers between his.
He looked at her, a deep sadness, more profound than that Joey had seen in the eyes of the child behind the crewman’s face, in his eyes. He squeezed her hand as he lifted it, kissing her bent fingers lightly. Finally, he let her go, gently replacing her hand in her own lap. It was final, the gesture. He was pushing her away, ending anything that might have started with their one, earth-shattering kiss.
“The apocalypse.”
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About the Author
J.M. Cagle began writing stories while in high school. She went on to attend California State University, Dominguez Hills and continued her pursuing her writing interests by interning at KTLA, a Los Angeles television station. She also became a sports writer for two community newspapers. She would attend sporting events and write articles on the games. Ms. Cagle also worked part-time at internationally acclaimed The Studios at Paramount where she garnered first-hand knowledge of the intricacies of television and film production. She has since gone on to write a multitude of screenplays and theatrical productions.
Ms. Cagle’s focus is now centered on the writing genres of romance, paranormal and suspense novels. She also enjoys writing in the spiritual genre as well. When she isn’t engaged in her favorite pastime of writing she takes pleasure in singing, visiting the beach, bicycling, reading, walking and spending time with her loved ones. Ms. Cagle currently resides in Michigan where she continues to speak her heart through her writing.
Other Books by This Author
Please check your favorite eBook retailers for the other books of J.M. Cagle
Other Books in the Daughter of Eden Series
Book Two: Protector of Man
Book Three: Children of the Fallen
The Doctor and The Billionaire Series
Book One: Misled
Book Two: Misunderstood
Book Three: Miscomputed
Bewitched with Love Trilogy
Bewitched with Love, Book One: A Carpenter’s Witch
Bewitched with Love, Book Two: A Rogue’s Match
Bewitched with Love, Book Three: Romancing a Witch
Enchanted Love Series
Book One: A Search for Love
Book Two: A Wicked Vision
Book Three: Winter Witch
Haunting Love Trilogy
Haunting Love, Book One: House of Darkness
Haunting Love, Book Two: Passionate Delirium
Haunting Love, Book Three: Chaotic Lust