Dark Mysteries (14 page)

Ellie
looked at the woman, her eyes kinder, softer. The woman who was her
savior. “I don't even know your name,” Ellie said,
zipping the front of the jacket closed, slipping the baton in the
pocket.

“Faith,”
she said, peeking her head out the door and looking around.

“I'm
Ellie,” she said, trying to look past Faith and onto the street
herself.

“I
know,” Faith said, looking back with a small smile. “Look,”
she said, waiting for Ellie to look up at her, “if you need to
run and you need help, you can come here. Even if I am not here, Vin
will offer a car or an escort out of town. Okay?” she watched
Ellie look down at her feet, uncomfortable. Like she was too prideful
to accept help. “Say you will take the help if you need it,”
Faith encouraged, “it doesn't make you weak.”

Ellie
laughed, a short, self-deprecating sound. “I will come ask for
help if I need it,” she agreed.

“Good,”
Faith said, looking outside again. “Now run. Keep your head
down, zigzag the streets and don't even stop for a breath until your
back at Xander's.”

“Thank
you, Faith,” she said, meaning it more than she could express.
Faith just shrugged a shoulder, stepping out of the doorway.

And
then she was running again. She kept her pace firmly at “I am
just out for an afternoon run” instead of “I just robbed
a bank”, her head ducked so she could only see a few feet in
front of her. She wanted to look around. To glance behind. To make
sure she wasn't being followed. They would never give up.

But,
she reminded herself, they were expecting her blonde hair, her gray
t-shirt. With the foreign jacket with the hood pulled up to cover her
face, she might as well be a completely different person. She went up
and down streets, backtracked, and moved forward. Her chest felt
tight and heavy, her mouth dry, her legs a bit wobbly.

God,
she was stupid. What was she thinking going to the post office? She
could have sent a letter from anywhere. She had the address
memorized. She had his number memorized. She didn't need the letters
from him.

But
a part of her had just gotten used to the one small piece of
normalcy. The only person in the world who knew what she had been
going through since leaving him. What she went through with him. The
person who taught her more than she could have ever learned by
herself. The one person who gave a damn if she was alive or not. She
needed his words. Needed the cold, calculated words. To keep her on
track. To remind her of how careful she needed to be. To remind her
that life, even a life on the run, was worth living. To remind her
that there were people in the world who were good. Who cared when
there was nothing in it for them. Who loved out of the pure goodness
of their hearts. She needed that. More than ever. She needed the
letters

She
let herself have a moment of absolute terror that maybe he or Bobby
would go back to that post office and find the letter she had dropped
in the box. But that wasn't possible. She made sure she dropped it
off inside. In the main bin. With all the cameras. It was a federal
offense to mess with mail. He might risk a lot, but he wouldn't take
the chance of going to jail for mail fraud.

He
could have paid off a worker.

But
the man who had called on her hadn't looked cruel or sneaky. Maybe he
had been told that she was a runaway. A wanted person. Who knew what
monster she could be portrayed as. What saint he could look like when
he wanted to.

Besides.
The address led to an abandoned storefront. The building was falling
in on itself. But the mailman dropped the mail through the slot like
nothing was out of the ordinary.

They
wouldn't find him. He was too good. Too cautious.

Ellie
felt the tightness in her chest lessening slightly. She was on
Xander's street. Her heart hammered painfully. She reached inside the
jacket, feeling around in her bra for the key that had been slicing
into her skin for the past half an hour. She stopped right outside
the door, fumbling the lock, when the door flew open.

Eleven

“Ellie
what the...” and then she launched herself against his chest,
her arms wrapping around his back and holding on like she was
drowning. His arm slid across her shoulders, leaning out into the
street to look for anything off. Aside from a group of kids playing
hookie from school on a stoop a few buildings down and the newsstand
attendant rearranging magazines... there was no one loitering around.

He
had gotten back half an hour before, banging to be let in for a few
minutes before he finally pulled out his key and let himself in,
calling her name. And that was when the panic set in. A strange,
clawing sensation through his chest and stomach, sending a cold flush
over his skin making him feel both cold and clammy all at once. He
flew through the office and apartment, opening doors to the closets
and even cabinets and looking inside. Calling her name like a parent
when they lose their child in a department store, getting more high
and frantic by the second.

Her
stuff was still there. Her clean clothes folded in the box, her dirty
clothes... folded beside his own hamper. Her books were piled on top
of the dining room table, their edges lined up perfectly. But her
wallet was missing.

Xander
looked around hopelessly... checking for a note. A sign of struggle.
Something to give him either calm... or warranted panic.

She
was a grown woman. If she wanted to leave his office, he really had
no reason to say she couldn't. But why would she willingly leave? She
jumped at every car door slamming out front, checked the locks even
after watching him lock them. And she was as safe as she could
possibly be when at his place. What would possess her to walk out the
front door and risk facing her fears on the streets?

He
paced the floor anxiously, back and forth, trough the office and
apartment. Waiting. Hoping she was coming back. She didn't even have
a cell to call if something happened. He should have bought her a
burner. And programmed his number. He was so wrapped up in finding
out who she was that he forgot to protect her for all possible
situations.

He
just... he didn't think she would ever leave.

And
then when he heard the key in the lock, he raced to the door,
planning on giving her a viscous tongue-lashing for making him, stoic
and laid-back him, worry like a mother whose child didn't come home
all night.

But
then she was clinging to him, her heart hammering in her chest,
struggling to find her breath. Because she had been running. She had
been running from something. Someone.

He
slammed the door, locking it, pulling her inside with him. His other
arm went around her hips, crushing her to his body. The side of his
face went down on the top of her head, covered by a hood. Of a jacket
that wasn't her own.

Why
was she hugging him? Ellie felt herself stiffen for a moment, acutely
aware that she had literally just threw herself at him. She was just
overwrought. From the post office. Bobby. The weird stint in the
panic room. The run back home, a part of her absolutely certain that
someone was going to reach out of nowhere and snatch her. Drag her
back. Make her wish she had killed herself all those years ago when
she had seriously considered it.

It
had all just become too much and she wanted comfort.

And
Xander just so happened to be there.

That
was the only reason. The absolute only reason.

She
sank back into him, feeling his arm start to slowly rub up and down
her back. It felt good to be held. No pressure. No questions. Just a
body wrapped around hers. She turned her head, slipping her face
toward his neck, breathing him in. She felt his hand move upward,
grabbing the back of her hood and pulling it off. There was a jolt of
desire in her core when she felt him lean forward, kissing the top of
her head and then resting his head against her hair.

She
wanted him.

It
wasn't just the run. The adrenaline. The fear of her death. It wasn't
just a cocktail of emotions and too much nervous energy. It wasn't
just because it was nice to be held.

She
just wanted him. Like any woman wants any man. For no other reason
than there was a physical connection too strong to deny. And maybe
she just... didn't want to fight it anymore.

Before
she realized her intention, she felt her hand sliding toward his
stomach, moving up slowly, enjoying the firm body beneath her
fingers. She skimmed over his chest, her hand pausing at his shoulder
for a moment, gauging his reaction and trying to bolster her
confidence, before moving up toward the side of his neck. Her
fingertips moved back and forth beneath his ear before moving behind
his neck and pulling a little.

Xander
went still the second her fingers touched his stomach, taking one
deep breath and holding it. By the time he felt them brush his neck
and settle, his jeans felt uncomfortably tight and his heart was
pounding in his chest. He was sure it was loud enough for her to
actually hear.

They
would both swear the air thickened around them. That their movements
slowed. That the world may have whizzed by outside of their little
bubble, but for them everything was still.

Ellie
lifted her face from his chest, looking upward at him. If there was a
hint of hesitance, of uncertainty... she would have chickened out.
She would curl back into herself and pretend nothing happened. But he
tilted his face down at her and she saw nothing but desire in his
heavy-lidded dark eyes. A muscle in his jaw was twitching, his mouth
in a severe frown. Like he was fighting the attraction.

Her
fingers gripped the back of his neck, pulling him down. No more
fighting.

His
lips went down on hers, firm but not moving, for an excruciatingly
long moment. Like he was in shock. Or afraid to let himself kiss her.

But
then his hands moved from around her, sliding up her body, his
fingertips skimming the side of her breast and sending a shiver
through her. He brought them up, framing her face, his big hands
holding her like she was made of glass. And then his lips pressed
into hers.

Ellie
melted against him. Every nerve ending, every fiber or her being
focused on his mouth, toying with hers at first, pressing, then
barely a whisper of contact. Her other arm went up and around his
neck, pulling him down toward her.

Xander
groaned, his teeth nipping into her lower lip as his hands moved down
her back, folding across her hips and pushing in, crushing her
against him. He lifted her feet up off the ground, making her mouth
more level with his. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, toying with
hers, demanding things she hadn't given anyone in years.

Ellie
brought her legs up, wrapping them around his waist and linking
behind his back. Xander titled his head up, now that she had the
height advantage, his hands slipping to grab her ass, holding her
against him.

Ellie
sighed against his mouth, feeling the pressure build between her
thighs, a pulsating, overpowering need. Xander turned, pushing her
back up against the wall. His lips pulled from hers. Ellie made a
strangled objection and Xander chuckled, his breath against her jaw
as his head dipped toward her neck.

His
lips found the sensitive skin of her neck, making her legs jerk and
clench around his waist, pulling him tighter to her. She closed her
eyes, her head titling to the side to give him more access. She
trembled as his lips grazed her collarbone, her fingers digging into
his back.

She
needed more.

Her
hands slipped into his hair, grabbing roughly and pulling his lips
back to hers, crushing hers down on him with all the half-repressed
yearning. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, her fingers twisting
in his hair, making him groan. It had never been like this before,
this primal. Raw. Like she wanted him to completely consume her. She
wanted to be lost in him.

She
could feel his desire pressing against her through his jeans. She
dropped her hips lower, adjusting until his need pressed against
hers. Ellie pulled her lips from, moaning against his cheek, moving
her body against his.

“Fuck
it,” Xander said, moving his hands under and around her arms,
crushing into her shoulders, and thrusting against her.

The
second before his lips met hers, he meant to be gentle. He meant to
be in control. He meant to let it just be a kiss. Something she
needed to help deal with whatever emotion she was struggling with.
Nothing more.

But
then he hadn't expected the all-consuming hunger to take him over. He
hadn't planned on her craving to match his. To pull him in deeper. To
let him consider things he never would have let himself before. He
couldn't have known that she would taste so intoxicating. Couldn't
have even dreamed that she would be so responsive, so open.

Her
hips pushed forward to meet his thrusts and he could feel her
frustration as strong as his own. It wasn't enough.

His
fingers moved to the hem of her shirt, slipping under.