Bound by Blood (The Garner Witch Series) (16 page)

“Um...Nathan...I don’t know...” I said, anxiously.

He looked up at me and arched his brow in question. “Have you never had anyone pleasure you this way?”

I felt my face redden. “Ah...no.”

He gave me a diabolical look and asked, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “Unquestionably.”

“Then lie back and enjoy,” he whispered.

He urged my thighs wider, leaving me feeling unbelievably exposed. Then, suddenly, my world shifted as his tongue delved into my tender flesh, and the only thing I knew was bliss.

I threw my head back and cried out with a noise I’m positive had never come from me before. I’d always believed I was incapable of experiencing this level of craving and hunger, but with Nathan, that belief had just shattered. All I knew in that moment was the boundless intensity of my body’s reaction to him. The surging pleasure was simultaneously too intense, but also leaving me greedy for more. Any apprehension I’d had disappeared under his talented ministrations. Arching my back, I moaned as currents of rapture slammed through me, my whole body quivering from the intimacy of the act.

“That feels so good,” I exalted. 

Desire and sensuous pleasure rolled off his body in waves and it intermingled with my own. My empathic abilities caused me to experience my desire as well as his, and I’d never felt anything like it before. Then, he moaned. It was a rumble of blatant masculine satisfaction. The vibrations spread to my core and I suddenly couldn’t handle it any longer. Tension coiled inside me, the onslaught and intensity causing it to twist tighter and tighter until I pushed outward at the sensations—it was just too much.

Nathan gasped and abruptly stopped what he was doing, staring at me in shock. “What was that?”

“What was what?” I asked, confused.

“I think...I felt what you were feeling. How did you do that?”

I realized what I’d done and was mortified. I’d inadvertently projected what I was feeling into him. “I’m so sorry. I was overwhelmed, and it just happened. I can rein it back. I just lost control.” I was embarrassed. I’d never lost control that way before.

“Are you kidding? Rein it in? That was incredible! I have never felt anything so intense. Can you do it again?”

“I… I can try—” I didn’t get the chance to finish when he picked up right where he left off, and all talk was replaced with breathy sighs and sensuous moans.

My cries became increasingly louder as I gripped his hair and held him close. His tongue rasped over my flesh, probing and licking, sucking and nibbling more thoroughly than before. He was doing exactly what felt right—the right pressure, the right speed. It was as if he was reading my mind and knew exactly how I liked it. I felt him moan again and I realized he
did
know exactly how I liked it. He felt it.

The more I arched and wriggled under him, the firmer he held me in place. Until finally he pulled my legs around his back and continued without mercy. It was mind-blowing. I felt what he was doing, but it was compounded by his pleasure overlapping mine. Then I pushed the feelings back into him and the pleasure doubled back at me again—an endless loop of gratification that kept building and building.

The pressure rose in me until finally I exploded with an earth-shattering release. Distantly, I heard him shout out his own climax as well.

Afterward, I laid there for a long while, unable to move or think.

Nathan rose up on his elbows above me and tenderly grazed his lips against mine. I was a bit self-conscious considering what he’d just been doing with his mouth, but I slowly melted into the kiss.

“That was miraculous,” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss. “I take back what I said before, when I told you that being empathic was a rare gift. It is not
just
a rare gift, but a cherished treasure as well.”

I was shocked that after the climax I’d just experienced, I could still want him so badly. I thought I would’ve needed a few minutes—or weeks—to recuperate before feeling this need again. I was even more amazed when I felt his hardness pressing at my entrance. “Oh...you don’t need some time to... ah...recover?”

He convulsed with a profound and throaty laugh. “You are so addictive,” he said.  Then he became serious as he traced the shell of my ear with his tongue, and breathed, “I want to be inside you.”

My stomach clenched at his admission, and heat and moisture flooded the juncture between my shaky legs.  He reclaimed my lips as he thrust in slow, gradual strokes, until he was totally sheathed inside me. It was exquisite. I was so in tune with him, feeling everything he felt. We both groaned in satisfaction, and like before, I gave him my pleasure, allowing him to feel it as well. It was becoming easier—I didn’t need to concentrate to project my feelings. It was almost instinctual.

While gazing into my eyes, he hesitated. My heart thumped irregularly as I sensed the depth of emotion coming from him, and then lost all ability to think as he continued to thrust into me repeatedly. His movements were perfect, as if choreographed especially for my body.  I was completely and utterly engulfed in bliss as he hit every sensitive spot and knew unerringly what felt best. There was definitely nothing tepid or monotonous about this. For a moment, it was so wonderful, I felt as though I couldn’t breathe. The pleasure built in me all over again until, with another scream, it peaked and exploded once more. Nathan shuddered as I dragged him with me, triggering his own explosive release.

I lost track of how many times we’d made love that afternoon, or in how many different rooms. But Nathan and I were proving to be completely insatiable. 

After dinner, we settled in front of the fireplace on a pile of throw pillows that he’d arranged on the ground. It was lovely—we alternately talked and made love until late into the night.

At some point, I fell asleep with my head on his chest. I was spent, so completely and utterly exhausted, that I hadn’t even stirred when he carried me to his bed and tucked us in.

Chapter 12

Focusing on work was an exercise in futility. No matter how many times I tried to avoid it, my mind continuously wandered back to Nathan and our weekend together. Not to mention last night.

Nathan had awoken me multiple times throughout the night, kissing every inch of my naked body until I stirred. And then the memory of waking up in the morning, cocooned in his arms, replayed itself in my head over and over, contentment filling me each time the vision repeated.  After we’d finally gotten out of bed, we shared a long shower, which explained why, despite being an early riser I was almost late for work.

I couldn’t get enough of him.

Just as I was in the midst of a particularly explicit memory, Morrison burst into my office. “Morning Reece, I’d ask how your weekend was, but judging by the shit-eating grin on your face, I’m guessing it was pretty good,” Morrison joked, plopping into the chair across from my desk.

I felt my cheeks and neck flush with heat, and hoped he didn’t notice.

He chuckled. “Oh, my. What a nice shade of red. Now you have to tell me about it.”  

Yeah, right. I wondered how he’d react if I told him the truth.
Well, this weekend I found out that vampires really do exist and then I spent hours upon hours having the best sex of my life with one. Oh yeah, and he’s a suspect in an ongoing case.

I settled for lying instead. “There’s nothing to tell.” Then I asked, in a less than subtle attempt to change the subject, “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Agent Hunter wants a debriefing in the conference room in ten minutes.” His jovial light-hearted demeanor was now replaced by the serious FBI mien he typically wore.

“Okay. I’ll meet you there and help you set up.” I stood and grabbed the case files.

Ten minutes later,presentation boards cluttered the conference room—some filled with pictures of our victims, others with time lines and flow charts. Agents Malone, Gravelle, and Fleming—who were also working the case—piled into the room and sat around the conference table, ready to begin.

“Agent Morrison has discovered some new evidence so I’ve asked him to debrief us this morning.” Agent Hunter said, and then gave Morrison the floor.

“I believe we may have found another victim.” He held up a photo of a young woman. She had curly chestnut-brown hair that fell past her shoulders and, just like the other victims, her eyes were a startling crystal-blue color. I deflated when I saw the picture, not realizing how much I’d hoped her death wasn’t related to this case, that somehow Morrison was wrong despite the coincidences. However, when I saw the undeniable resemblance to the other women, to myself, I couldn’t ignore the truth—she was my family.  I swallowed the lump that rose in my throat.

The other agents, including Agent Hunter, all snuck surreptitious glances my way when the photo was displayed. Each of them politely ignoring the eerie resemblance between the other victims and myself.

“Celia Ryder was found dead in her house on March 31
. She was killed March 30th.” He pinned her picture to the corkboard beside the other victims, and then moved over to the time line.

“Sherri Marcone was killed February 28
. Leslie Harper April 28
. Initially, when we had just the two victims we thought he was killing on the 28th of the month, and that perhaps the day held some significance for him. But Morganna was killed on the 27th. That bothered me, so I searched to see if there was anythingsignificant about those dates. And there is—they each fell on the night of the full moon.”

He pulled up a calendar on the projector with the dates of each full moon highlighted in the background.

“I started to wonder why he missed the March 30th full moon, and after a search of deaths on that date matching the victim’s descriptions, I discovered Celia Ryder. Her death was listed as natural causes, but the Sheriff is having the body exhumed and autopsied, and they’ll be running a comparative DNA analysis, as well. I’m fairly confident she’s a victim, and I think we should operate under that assumption until the results are back.” He glanced pointedly to Agent Hunter when he made the suggestion.

“Agreed,” Agent Hunter said. “Where are we on motive? Do we have any idea why he’s choosing these women?”

My body automatically stiffened. I knew exactly why they were chosen, but I couldn’t say anything. I’d always had hunches and other feelings during an investigation that I couldn’t explain, but this was different—I was withholding evidence. It didn’t sit well with me.

“Agent Reece had an interesting theory about motive.” Morrison reached into another file and pulled out some papers. “One of Morganna’s friends told us a story about her having some sort of psychic ability. I thought it was crazy talk, but Reece suggested we speak to some witnesses again and find out if there were any similar rumors about the other victims.”

Agents Fleming and Gravelle snickered loudly while Ian Malone, also known as the office clown, began whistling the tune to
The X-Files
. Then all of the agents broke into peals of laughter. Obviously, no one in the room was a believer.

Morrison laughed as well. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought at first. That is until one of Leslie’s co-workers told a comparable story about her possessing psychic abilities. And while I was in Sanford, Colorado this weekend, I found a newspaper article about Celia’s death.”

He tossed a print of the newspaper article into the center of the conference table, and then flipped the projector screen to display the article for everyone could see. The headline read “Local Psychic Found Dead.”

I sucked in a startled breath. Apparently, Celia was open about her gifts.

“Come on. You don’t seriously believe this, do you?” Jason Fleming posed the question, doubt thick in his tone.

“Not at first, but think about it. These are four different women, professional women. Morganna was a psychologist—do you think she went around flaunting she was psychic for kicks? It would’ve discredited her.

“None of them knew each other, and two of them weren’t even living in Denver. Two of the victims hid the fact they were psychic;only close friends knew the stories, and they were sworn to secrecy. Why would they try to hide it if they were faking? They say that these sorts of abilities are hereditary—maybe they really
did
possess some form of extra sensory perception.”

Everyone silently mulled over Morrison’s arguments until Agent Hunter spoke. “You bring up an interesting point, Agent Morrison. Still, I don’t think the victims’ psychic ability is our motive.”

Morrison started to protest, but Agent Hunter lifted his hand, stalling his response. “If the killer targeted them simply because he thought they were psychic, then there would be more random deaths—there are plenty of self-proclaimed psychics. But he has chosen these women specifically. Why? I think their relationship is the trigger, being psychic may just be a byproduct.

Morrison blew out a frustrated sigh. “You’re probably right. So, we’re back to where we started.”

“Not exactly. It’s apparent he wants their blood, and that they clearly have similar markers since they’re family. Let’s follow the blood. Start by verifying if any of the victims donated blood or had their blood tested. Maybe he has some way to flag it. I mean, it’s unlikely, but worth checking. The FBI and other law enforcement track DNA through databases—maybe the killer works in law enforcement, or perhaps a lab or health clinic where he’d have access to that information.

“Morrison, Reece, I want you two pulling all of the victims’ prior medical histories. I want everything—if they had any blood work, when they had a cold, measles, or even the chicken pox.” 

He turned to face the other agents in the room. “Gravelle, Fleming. I want you two tracking down any possible family members. I want complete background checks on the victims and their parents. We need to know why they didn’t seem to have any inkling they were related. If there are any others out there, they could be in danger.

“Malone, you search the date of every full moon for the past few years, every state. I want you to input the description of the victims and see if there are any other possibles we haven’t discovered yet. At least nowwe know what dates to look for—that should help narrow down the results.”