Chastity Flame (16 page)

Chastity laughed.
"Ecstatic?"

"Of course," Damien said, his forehead
wrinkling. "We don't have to keep secrets from each
other!"

"I see."

"No, you don't," he said, slapping a
hand down on the table, "or else you wouldn't be acting this way.
Things were already wonderful—and now! Now we know. We're both on
the same team."

"The team where fraternizing is
forbidden," Chastity reminded him. "We can't do this. They won't
let us anyway."

Damien waved away her concern. "What
are they going to do? I know they don't like these things
happening, but they must do from time to time. It's bound to
occur."

"Yes, it does," Chastity said, unable
to deflect the bitterness from creeping into her tone, "and they do
put an end to it. I know."

Damien's demeanor softened. "It's
happened to you?"

"No," Chastity said slowly. "My
parents."

"Oh." He paused. "Do you want to tell
me about it?"

"No. No, I don't. I don't want to talk
about this at all."

"But, Helen," he paused, and couldn't
keep from a grin. "Or do I call you 12ZF?"

"Don't call me, full stop." Chastity
sat down hard in a chair and grabbed the folder of information.
"Let's just do our job." After a moment of angry silence, Damien
sat down, too, and began to flip through the papers. For a time,
there was no sound to be heard except the shuffling of papers as
they passed them back and forth.

Damien glanced over at Chastity
repeatedly, but she pretended not to notice. Finally, he couldn't
resist the urge any longer. "Your folks were in the biz, too? I
don't think I've ever heard of anyone who's second
generation."

"Damien," Chastity said, tossing a
sheaf of photos back across the table. "Leave it."

"No, damn it! We have to work
together, right? So we're going to have to get along." His fierce
expression gentled. "You can tell me, you know you can."

Chastity sighed. Never in her life had
she been able to talk about these things. The only person living
that she was sure knew about her parents was Monitor, and she was
not one given to chitchat and reminiscences. That part of her life
had been filed away for so long that she had ceased to think about
it.

Until recently, that is—what about her
distracting thoughts on the job? And what about the sudden
recurrence of these migraines and, well, let's admit it, she
thought: visions. Chastity looked across the table at Damien, who
seemed to be doing his best to appear meek and small. She
sighed.

"I don't know. There's a lot I don't
know."

"Tell me what you do know," he
pleaded, folding his arms over the papers in front of him. "I mean,
you know you can trust me. I bet you haven't ever been able to talk
about this to anyone."

Chastity shrugged. "I
suppose."

"Tell me, Helen. Or whatever it is I
ought to call you. Twelfty?"

Chastity couldn't help laughing. "And
what are you? Four-Charlie-Bravo?"

"I like the way you say Damien," he
grinned, relieved that she was at least talking to him. "You have a
completely unique way of speaking. You don't sound foreign, but
there's something extraordinary about the way you pronounce
things."

"I lived in Devon in my earliest
years, then in Switzerland for a while and the States for a few
years. In between, a lot of other places."

Damien nodded as if somehow this fit.
"I was in Canada until six months ago, but I grew up here in
London. I really did train as an art historian."

"Do you actually teach?" Chastity
couldn't resist asking.

He laughed. "I am at the moment. I
tell you, students are a lot scarier to face than most of the
criminals I chase." She couldn't help admiring the sweet dimple
that dented his cheek. "Did you know your parents were part of the
team?"

"No, of course not. My father was a
painter and my mother a journalist. That was all I thought they
were anyway."

"When did you find out the
truth?"

Chastity's mouth formed a straight
line and she looked away. "When they were dead."

"Sorry." Damien was abashed. "Were you
there?" he asked softly.

Chastity closed her eyes. While the
images had consumed her in the weeks following the event, she had
not consciously thought about it since then. "We had just returned
to London," she said dully. "My dad promised a day in the park. We
were going to Kew Gardens. My parents had bought a flat nearby and
we had a membership. It seemed like a perfect day. The sun was
shining, it was warm, not a hint of rain in the sky."

Chastity could see it all as clear as
on the day it happened. She was wearing her favorite little sailor
outfit that her parents had bought her on a trip through Japan. Her
mother was wearing blue jeans and a black sweater with a square
neck. It managed to look elegant and casual at the same time, which
was exactly her mother, she always thought. Chastity's father was
his usual rumpled self, his clothes flecked with paint of various
colors. He had a sketchbook in a portfolio under his arm, but he
had been convinced not to drag all the painting paraphernalia along
with them.

"You'll be ages!" Chastity had whined
when he stood, pipe in mouth at the doorway of his studio,
considering his options. Her mother had joined her voice in the
protest, so he had sighed and simply grabbed the small leather
portfolio, content to sketch some pieces in the warm sun. Chastity
had held hands with them down the stairs to the entryway but, once
she pushed the door open, she had run down the block toward the
corner.

"I was eleven," Chastity finally said.
"We were going to the park. Kew Gardens," she added, smiling ever
so slightly at the memory. "It seemed like it was going to be a
perfect day. My mother was beautiful, elegant and terribly clever.
My father was wonderful, funny and an amazing painter. I loved them
so much."

Chastity hadn't realized that tears
were beginning to trickle down her cheeks. Damien moved a little
closer, but seemed to resist the urge to take her into his arms.
She drew a long breath. "I had run out ahead of them, down the
block toward the zebra crossing. They were taking their time as
always. I was too eager to get there, to have the fun
begin."

She could see the moment so clearly,
as if the world had stopped, as if she had held her breath—though
Chastity knew that she had been puffing from the exertion of
running down the block. But she had turned her head just in time,
had punched the button for crossing, looked back to see the hail of
bullets that riddled her parents as they came down the front
steps.

"I turned back," she said, her voice
dull and low, her eyes wet. "There was a car going by. It stopped
long enough to shoot them both. Bullets perforated their bodies as
if they had suddenly become colanders. They jerked every which way
as if their bones had gone all soft. I never saw the men in the
car, though I did remember there were two of them. I ran back to
see my parents, not believing, not wanting to believe—"

Chastity stopped. There were not words
enough or sounds sufficient. Damien moved to her side and threw his
arms around her and she let go all at once. She let go of the
years, of the tears, of the anger and the loss. Sobs wracked her
body and Damien never let go. She had not cried since that day. At
the time, she had wailed and wept, covered in her parents' blood as
she tried to hold them close, keep the breath in their bodies, but
afterward, it had all changed. At the funeral, Monitor by her side,
she had remained silent, composed—or was it just numb? At the time,
she had been grateful not to be alone. Since then, she had not
questioned Monitor's influence, even when she revealed to the
eighteen year old Cambridge undergraduate that the hit had come
from within the organization.

"Their own people did that?" she had
said, a sinking feeling in her gut like a punch out of the blue.
Chastity had collapsed into the chair, unfathoming, immobile. It
didn't help at all to hear that the two rogue ops had been dealt
with; such an interesting euphemism. They were dead. She knew that,
but it did not seem to reach her in any effective way. It
devastated her to know that her parents' love had provoked that
hatred. The two agents resented their happiness—and considered them
a security risk.

Chastity had been in Monitor's keeping
since that day. Sure, she had been given refuge with a very nice
older couple, Cedric and Maryann, but they had been her caretakers
only. Monitor had been her mentor, distant and contained as she
was. When had they revealed the organization to her? Thirteen?
Fifteen? She wasn't sure. It always seemed like it was there.
Perhaps she had suspected long before she knew. Perhaps Monitor had
dropped hints so that she did begin to formulate suspicions. It was
impossible to pick it apart now.

Damien's arms around her made Chastity
feel as if all of the pain could somehow be assuaged. With her face
buried in the crook of his neck, she inhaled his scent and the
memories flooded back. It hadn't really been that long, but already
the feel of his skin seemed imprinted on her fingers. Her hands
moved down his back feeling the play of the muscles as he shifted
his grip around her. Chastity moved her head so her lips could
brush against his neck. Damien shivered. She opened her mouth and
flicked her tongue against his skin. He squirmed even more, so she
clamped her mouth down on the skin, biting gently the flesh beneath
her teeth.

Damien groaned and shifted in his
seat. He moved his hands to her face to bring her lips up to his.
As their mouths met he wrapped his arms around her once more.
Chastity thrust her tongue deep into Damien's mouth and he sucked
on it with enthusiasm. The warmth of their mouths together was
intense and she felt it warm her whole body. She hadn't realized
how cold she had felt as the memories unfolded, as if a chill shook
her to the core. The heat from their kiss felt restorative somehow,
as if she had just downed a hot cup of tea. The thought made her
want to smile.

Meanwhile Damien's hands moved from
her back to her breasts, massaging them with slow circles, which
felt wonderful. He didn't want to settle for simply caressing them,
however, and disengaged from her mouth. Feverishly his fingers
sought the buttons at the front of her blouse, freeing the access
to her generous cleavage. His mouth joined his hands as he feasted
on the soft skin. Damien reached around her back to unhook the bra
and free her breasts to the kneading of his fingers. Then he leaned
forward and took a nipple in his lips and she groaned
happily.

Chastity could feel the charge between
her thighs grow. She rubbed her hands along his back but it wasn't
enough for her. His mouth and teeth on her nipple were driving her
to distraction and she needed to feel more of him. Chastity pulled
him up for a kiss again and Damien came reluctantly, keeping his
hands on her breasts.

She slipped her hands into Damien's
waistband, reaching for the flesh beneath. He was actually wearing
boxers today, she noted with a secret smile. Moving around to the
front of his trousers, she reached for the snap, popping it open
and then sliding his zipper down slowly. Reaching into the warmth
of its opening, Chastity felt the hard length of him, already
stoked by their kisses and the taste of her nipples. She slipped
her hand under the elasticized waistband to touch the tender skin
of his erection, sliding her hand down the hot flesh, rubbing the
ball of her thumb against the tip, already wet. Damien moaned
happily.

Chastity got up and pulled down his
trousers, releasing his stiff erection to the air, but not for
long. She kneeled before him and fastened her mouth on him. In her
mouth his heat was phenomenal. She took him as deeply as she could,
slowly letting him slip out almost all the way, leaving just the
tip of his knob between her lips as she swirled her head in a lazy
circle before swallowing his length once more.

His breath came increasingly fast with
little moans punctuating the susurrations of air. At last he could
stand it no longer and grabbed her arms to pull Chastity up to her
feet, where he immediately set to releasing her jeans, fumbling at
the buttons until she was free, pulling them down around her ankles
so she could step out of them, then thrusting his hand between her
thighs to determine her readiness.

It was Chastity's turn to moan as his
fingers brushed her lips and then poked inside her. She could feel
the walls of her cunt twitch around his fingers as they explored,
sliding in and out with maddening slowness. He pulled them out to
tug at the hood of her clitoris, giving her a strong charge, an
electric sensation.

"Do you want me?" Damien asked
quietly, his deep brown eyes fixed on hers.

"Of course I do," Chastity whispered.
She looked at the chocolaty smoothness of his skin, felt the
strength of the fingers thrusting inside her and admired the
pulsing erection waving invitingly before her. Of course she
did.

"Climb aboard," Damien invited
huskily, withdrawing his finger from her red wet lips and leaning
back in the desk chair. Chastity did as he suggested, straddling
him on her knees, reaching down to aim his cock at her lips,
settling the tip just inside. Impatient, Damien lifted his hips,
trying to work his way inside her warmth. Chastity grinned at him
and finally relented, settling down onto his stiff knob with
enthusiasm. They groaned together.