Demon Seed (4 page)

“Like what?” His breath smelled fruity.

“Music. We sang hymns and chanted in the convent, but had only a rusted organ that no longer worked. I couldn’t get enough of music. All the rhythms. And all the instruments.”

“What else?”

“Ice cream. Popcorn. Apples. So many delicious tastes. After the first visit to town, I knew I would not take my vows. So I decided to do what the boarders did. Learn a trade.”

He captured her chin, moved his thumb along the seam of her mouth, and whispered, “Lick your lips.”

She was lost the second his mouth brushed hers. What a feeling he evoked. Ice and fire at the same time. Heaven. Bliss. All the stuff the day girls had told her was true. Pure enchantment, kissing. His lips proved soft and supple, firm and insistent, and made her head spin.

“Open for me,” he ordered.

She blinked. Their gazes met, and the river, the shouts, the deep rumble of the motors all vanished. His powerful thighs bunched under her legs. “Close your eyes.”

This time when he took her mouth, his tongue slid inside. She had once been trapped in a whirlpool and had fought like a lunatic to escape. She didn’t want to battle the sensual whirlpool his skilled lips and mouth created. She’d drown in the soft stroking of his tongue, in his warrior’s spice, in the heat of the hand caressing her neck. She clutched his shirt when he abruptly broke the kiss. Her skin crackled everywhere, like she wore an invisible static electric blanket—not in a painful way, more like a dizzy, excited anticipation.

Jacinta couldn’t focus. Her blurred gaze coasted to his neck, drawn to the veins cording one side.

“You liked ice cream, you said.”

It took a moment before his words registered. She nodded.

“Okay. We’ll get back to that. How did you meet Emilio?”

“One of the day girls invited us to her birthday party in Boa Vista. There was a woman there who kept staring at me. The following week, the day girl invited me and three other boarders for dinner. Emilio and the woman who’d been staring at me were there. When he showed me the picture of my mother, everything went turvy-topsy.”

He chuckled. “Topsy-turvy.”

“That too. When I was confused about my place in the world in the cloister, I meditated and that restored my balance. I couldn’t concentrate long enough to meditate after seeing the picture. Question after question plagued my every moment. Sleep, which had once been a refuge, escaped me. I thought I would go mad. I wrote a letter to Sister Helen asking that she tell me of how I came to the cloister, who my mother was. Until then I believed my parents were dead.”

The roar of the engines died away all at once. He placed a finger on her throbbing lips. “Rules are in order.”

She pressed her face to his chest.

After they disembarked from the boat, Jacinta tried to keep track of his direction, but he twisted and turned so often and the sounds changed so fast that she grew disoriented. They went through building after building, and he finally placed her in a chair. Uncertain what to do, she peeked sideways. Shoes. Slippers, sandals, all manner of footwear. They were in a shoe store.

“Boots. What size do you wear?”

“Five.” She glanced at a pretty pair of multicolored sandals and repressed a sigh. Boots were more practical.

“Three pairs of boots in size 5.” Demon spoke with an elderly man wearing wire-rimmed spectacles who nodded and then disappeared behind a swinging half door. “Pick out at least three sandals—flats. And get a couple of others, your choice.”

“One pair of boots will do.” She couldn’t repay him the small fortune such an extravagance would cost.

He leaned so close his features went out of focus. “That’s an order, Jacinta. Not a suggestion. You have five minutes.”

From the shoe shop, they went to a clothing store, and then on and on relentlessly until they had visited every shop in the small town. She protested, he purchased, she argued, he glowered and swatted her hands when she tried to return items to shelves.

Truly the man had a stubborn streak the old mule at the cloister could learn from, and that recalcitrant animal never completed a single task without serious prodding. Sister Helen even had to use the whip on occasion.

By the time they finished shopping and had arrived at their hotel room, she wanted to brain him. Even if she earned a steady salary for the coming year, every single weekly wage would have to be turned over to him, and she would still owe more.

“I have a few errands to run.” Demon gave her the hotel room key. “Lock the door when I leave. Don’t open it for anyone but me. Have a shower and change. We’ll go grab dinner when I get back. And Jacinta?”

The thought of a hot, steamy shower had her salivating. “Yes.”

“Wear the new white cotton panties. I’ll be listening to hear the lock turn.”

Tempted to pelt the key at his head, she gritted her teeth and waited until the door closed before jamming the key into the hole. She turned the key and repeated the phrase Sister Helen had drummed into her. “Patience is a virtue.”

“It certainly is. Now go have your shower.”

Jacinta shook a fist at the closed door.

Wear the white panties?

All the things she’d refused to think about flooded her head, and she had to sit before she fell down. The mattress sank under her weight.

She’d done what she had to in order to survive. But she’d sinned. Many times. He had proved himself a man of honor. He had rescued her from Emilio. He had only done
that
after she’d begged him. Surely he didn’t want to do
that
again?

She forced her legs to work, stood, and stumbled to the bathroom. One foot in front of the other, Jacinta focused on each step. Sister Helen always said even the angel Gabriel could survive in hell, if only he concentrated on surviving the first thirty seconds, then the next, and the next, ad infinitum.

Concentrate
. First the knife. Where to hide it? They’d bought a roll of electrical tape from the hardware store. Working quickly, she picked one of her new boots and taped the knife to the inside. She tested to ensure the hilt was within reach but not visible, and only then did her bunched neck muscles relax.

Shower, shampoo, brush her teeth, and get rid of the damned contacts.
I am so going to roast in hell. Now, I’m swearing in my thoughts.

Funny how a hot shower and a change of clothes lifted the spirits. Jacinta had dreaded looking in the mirror. She groaned at her reflection. Her hair stood up in short, jagged spikes. A half-drowned cat would look more appealing. Most of her life, she had never paid much attention to her reflection, but that changed after she’d left the cloister. Had it only been fifty-seven days ago?

The knock on the door came quicker than she expected. She hurried to fetch the key and waited for Demon to speak.

“Room service. I have your dinner order.” The man’s muffled voice sounded familiar.

She dithered, hopping from one bare foot to the other. Had Demon changed his mind?

“What the fuck?” Demon’s snarled bellow startled her into dropping the key.

A glass shattered, and the loud crack made her jump. Metal clanged on cement, and she heard male voices grunting curses. Demon was under attack.

Jacinta retrieved the key while scouring the room for a weapon. She grabbed a heavy brass vase, stabbed the key into the lock, and opened the door. Raising the vase over her head, she stepped back quickly to avoid slamming against the man Demon had just rammed his fist into. She overrotated and landed on the door frame.

Demon didn’t glance in her direction but grabbed the man, punched him twice, and added a third jab when the man slithered down the wall.

He opened a bleary, swollen eye. “Pedro will have her. And after he finishes with her, he will give her to me.”

“Come near her again and I will give Pedro your cock and tell him where he can find the rest of you. Don’t set foot in this hotel again.” Demon spun around. “Get back inside.”

She cringed but took a step back and set the vase on its pedestal.

“I told you not to open that door to anyone but me.” Demon shoved her into the room, banged the door shut, and twisted the key.

His roar echoed in her ears.

“I didn’t.” She had opened the door for
him
.

“What the heck did you think you could do?”

She didn’t like the shouting. “Whatever I had to.” She went on tiptoe, refusing to be intimidated by his ferocious scowl and his bellowing. Her voice rose. “I am
not
helpless.”

“Oh yeah? I didn’t sacrifice my virginity last night in front of four men and one vicious woman.”

She flinched but didn’t back down. “I did what I had to. I didn’t panic. I survived.”

“So you did.” He hauled her into his arms. “You scared me spitless when I realized you were going to try to tackle Hugo. I don’t get what you do to me. I’m sorry your first time was so damned awful. I’d give anything to redo last night.”

“It could have been Emilio.” She laughed, knowing the only other choice was crying. “I will never regret it being you. Never.”

“Aw, sweetheart. You wring me out.” He drew back and traced a whorl of her ear. She shivered. Who knew an ear had so many nerve endings?

“That was the man who said Pedro would slice off your balls.” When his eyes narrowed, she added, “I never forget a voice.”

“Don’t worry about him. He won’t be around anymore.” He let his arms drop, and she missed his warmth immediately. “Hang on.”

She watched in confusion as he unlocked the door, vanished, and reappeared seconds later carrying a few bags. “I bought you a few pairs of new contacts. Put them in while I have a shower.”

“I
hate
the contacts.” She unclenched her fists.

“You
must
wear them. These are the extended-wear kind that you don’t have to take out for a week.” He tossed three plastic bags on the bed—two large and one small—and secured the door once more. “I bought you a treat. After you put in the contacts, take a look in the little bag.”

A treat
? She eyed the smallest bag but forced her concentration to the hated lenses. The contacts went in easier this time, and she studied the package on the bed for long moments before reaching for it. She peeked into the bag, and her eyes misted. An iPod.

All the day girls had them, and Jacinta had been saving for one. A tear trailed down her cheek. Her very first present. She held the smooth metal to her chest and closed her eyes, savoring the moment.

“Like it?” Demon, towel wrapped around his waist, one shoulder braced on the doorway, stared at her.

She nodded, too worked up to trust her voice, but kept her head averted. Jacinta didn’t want him to see her damp cheek.

“Good. It’s already registered, and I put one hundred American dollars in your account. Why don’t you download a bunch of titles while I shave? The Wi-Fi reception isn’t great, but it’ll go entirely the minute we leave town.”

“One hundred American dollars?” Jacinta wished she hadn’t squeaked on the word
American
. She’d never be able to repay him. Not in this lifetime. “I can’t possibly accept this.”

“Stow it, Jacinta. I don’t want to argue. It’s yours. Do what you want.” He ignored her after that until he wiped the last bit of foam off his jaw. “Do me a favor. Take the tags off the black pants in the other bag.”

Glad to have something to do, Jacinta found the scissors they’d purchased at the pharmacy and worked on the three pairs of trousers in the bag. “Shall I hang them up?”

“Toss me the black ones and hang up the others.”

She handed him the pants, and by the time she shut the wardrobe, he had finished dressing. Black suited him to perfection. The somber color and severe lines of the trousers, and the loose linen shirt, brought out the gold in the sandy hair brushing his shoulders. He had left the shirt unbuttoned to midchest.

“Come to me.” He crooked a finger.

Up until that moment, she hadn’t quite registered the difference in their heights. Her nose would meet the spot bared by his shirt. She tilted her head and stopped when about a hand’s width separated them. “Thank you for the iPod. I’ll treasure it always. I’m sorry I shouted at you.”

“I deserved it. And you’re welcome. After dinner tonight, I’m going to make love to you. I promise you, I’ll erase all the memories of last night.”

Jacinta wanted to burn the moment into her brain: the glint in his chameleon eyes, now a warm caramel hue, the tender expression, and his fierce declaration. “I don’t want to erase it. I have never felt safer and more cared for than after you rescued me last night.”

She hoped he understood, and that she hadn’t hurt his manly pride. But the one thing she did not want to repeat was
that
.

“Let’s go before I change my mind and order room service.” He urged her forward. “Rules are in effect from the minute we step out the door.”

The humidity hadn’t lessened with nightfall. Stepping out of the air conditioning was akin to falling into a bowl of tepid broth. He twined their fingers together and led her down narrow streets littered with cigarette cases, empty soda bottles, battered cans, and crumpled paper. People of all shapes, sizes, and colors sat at sidewalk tables. Music—a samba here, a calypso there, Frank Sinatra crooning a tune she didn’t recognize—blared from cafés, restaurants, and bars.

At the boarding school, they’d made field trips to the nearby towns. She recognized the same characteristics of those others in this one. The atmosphere crackled with the frenetic energy of unruliness, of a town built around the promise of gold and diamonds, the flamboyance of drug runners, and the obsession of revolutionaries.

“This way.” He turned right into a near-vacant side alley that took them to a tiny café.

Jacinta glanced around the small room, taking in the empty tables covered by red-and-white-checkered tablecloths. In her experience, albeit limited, crowded restaurants meant good food at reasonable prices.

He pulled out a chair and waited for her to sit. The table he’d chosen was tucked into a corner at the back of the restaurant near an arched corridor.