Divine Liaisons (7 page)

Chapter 10

“
Don't move.” It's an order.

A reinforcing hand presses down firmly at the base of my throat.

Opening my eyes, I'm unnaturally relaxed.

His head is next to my side. I can feel... 'something'.

“What are you doing?”

I want to scream it, shout it; dive away from his hands, but I can't make my limbs move, or put force into my voice.

“Fixing you. Now hold still.”

Barely managing to lift my head to look down where he lingers next to my ribcage, a needle is deep in me.

Oh God!

Where the hell is my dress!?

“Sarah, I will put you under again if you don't stay perfectly still.”

Put me under? Anesthetized? Tranquilized?

Dropping my head, I stare at the ceiling in this all aqua room.

Frankenstein is in the house.

Why is life so unfair?

“
Do you know what it was like?” I mumble into the silence. “Do you have any idea how many nights I cried myself to sleep? I wanted to be part of a family too.”

I feel movement in my chest, then a swab runs cold over my skin.

“It was your choice. It was always your choice. You can blame me all you want if it makes you feel better, but it doesn't change the facts.”

He lifts his head, moving away and dropping something on a table, it pings. He comes back with a syringe, half-full of weak-tea looking fluid.

“What the hell are you doing, Erra?”

His smile seems genuinely amused.

“You were condescending about me being a mathematician. What you didn't care to discover is I have written hundreds of papers on gene manipulation, splicing, and cloning. I'm leading a revolution, baby. I am fixing you using this technology.”

Oh sweet Jesus. I am in hell.

“Don't you dare.”

I wish I could shout.

“Too late. How else could I force you to heal your broken bones before taking you home?”

“
You shouldn't have broken them. You're a monster, you really are. You're the nightmare come to life, hunting the innocent, dogging my steps, dragging me into your madness, and then justifying it as helping me. Get over yourself. A gentleman wouldn't hurt a lady.”

I hate this helpless body. I'm a puddle of relaxed. Heavy and useless.

He holds the needle next to my temple.

Squeezing my eyes shut, terror swirls a vacuous horror through my chest, but I can't react.

“What are you doing?”

Panic filters a strange tone into my words.

“Infecting you.”

“
What!?”

I can just see his thumb pushing the plunger in, expressing the liquid directly into my head.

“Don't worry, it's coded to your DNA. You'll be contagious for a day, and then you'll be fine. It won't infect anyone else.”

“
Infecting me with what?”

“
Truth.”

Standing up straight, he puts the empty syringe on the table behind him.

“I'll be right back. Remain still. You can't walk yet, so don't try.”

He walks out of the room.

I can't feel much. Not cold, not fear, not thirst.

What did he do to me?

Footfalls come closer, and he walks in, straight to me, lifting my shoulders and slipping a sweatshirt over my head, dressing me like his child, putting my arms in the sleeves.

Then he picks me up, carrying me leaning heavily against him, out the room, down stairs, back to the living room.

He stretches me out on the couch, a smirk flirting with his lips.

He leaves me alone again, and I can just make out the noises of him pouring liquid, a tinkle of glass connecting with crystal.

When he returns, he pulls his chair so he's facing mine, right next to it, sipping at something clear, watching me.

“
What do you mean it was my choice? None of this is my choice. This is you inflicting your unwanted presence into my life.”

“
The orphanage. You don't remember, but it was your choice. You've blocked out so many memories, you just end up hurting yourself.”

“
Bull.”

“
Is it?” he leans back, relaxed, smiling now, sparkles back in his eyes.

“
When can I move again?”

“
Not until I take you home. You'll be fine when you wake-up.” His mouth twitches, he thinks something's funny. “You'll only have to see me again in a day. The only person you can infect, is me.”

Breaking the moment, my iPhone starts belting out Rock You Like a Hurricane.

Stretching, he picks up my jacket, extracting my phone and answering it. Talk about taking liberties. Prick!

“
Hello?”

“
Oh hi Mel. Yes she's right here, hold on.”

He puts the phone against my ear.

“Hello?”

“
Hi sweetie. You okay? You sound a bit tired,” she says.

“
I am. I'm exhausted.”

“
Funerals do that. It's been an emotional day for all of us. That's why I'm calling you.”

“
Oh?”

“
Out of respect to Erik and Ruth, we're closing the library for a week. Tomorrow's Sunday, just stay in bed and recuperate. I've told Erik you'll keep him company and show him around Austin during the week. Ruth would expect nothing less from us. He deserves our hospitality.”

Then why the hell can't
you
do it?

“
Uhm.”

“
You sound really tired, sweets. Go home, get some sleep. Call me if you need anything.”

“
Okay.”

I want to argue until the sun burns out, but I can't muster energy.

“Bye honey.”

“
Bye.”

He takes the phone away from my ear, flicking through it after disconnecting.

“Your boyfriend phoned.”

Closing my eyes, I want to cry.

“Don't worry, I didn't answer it. But I was sorely tempted.”

“
Are you happy now? You've ruined my life.”

He leans forward, putting my jacket and phone on the arm of the chair I'm lying on. His scent washes over me. It gives me a dull hurting ache, deep inside.

“You've got your orders. I'll be picking you up, expecting a tour, ten sharp, Monday morning.”

“
I hate you. I really hate you.”

There's that sound again. What is it? He's too close, leaning over me, staring into my eyes with his strange ones.

“No, you don't. You just really want to. You aren't capable of hate.”

“
Erra, I want to go home.”

Languid heat washes through me, imbuing an odd serenity.

“I've always loved your eyes. They're the color of the ocean on a hot summer day, deep blue with a gloss of turquoise. The gold flecks look like sunlight catching waves.”

“
Erra.” I want to go home.

It doesn't come out. Mute, useless, frustrated.

I have an odd dizziness, my body tingling.

“
I love it when you say my name.”

Swallowing hard, I attempt moving, but nothing happens.

I try again, “Erra, I...” want to go home.

Why is this happening?

“Yes, Sarah?”

“
Uhhhhmmmumble.”

What the hell? My body is reacting to his nearness. NO!
NO!

“
It took long enough.”

Knowing I can't speak, I concentrate to frown at him. It's a silent question.

“My name, Sarah. My name - you cannot say it without remembering. You've successfully blocked out the memories. You've chosen to focus on your physical self. You have your whole life. You work out, you train hard, you play everything you can, you climb mountains, hike, practice Tae Kwon Do, and smash tennis balls like a navy Seal. What you focus on grows. You've become so physical, your body reacts first. It's now your dominant side.”

He leans back, all rugged and tough looking, but with a gentle smile.

“If I had taken the time to think you through properly, I wouldn't have tried appealing to your intellect. Presenting myself to you as a scholar was an error. You're competitive, and you respect physical prowess. You respect might, speed, skill.”

Sighing, he pushes his hard fingers through his black hair.

“Now I'm stuck in this fucking disguise. But you, now all you will see, is me. The infection will keep you attune to me...” He leans forward, whispering into my face, “And all of my might. In all of my glory.”

Home. I want to go home. I don't want to be with you anymore.

“Home.”

Hey, I spoke!

“Yes, I am. I am your home.”

He misinterprets it. Egocentric a-hole.

“Take me...” Come on, do this Sarah. Focus.

But he thinks – oh God – he thinks 'take me'. It's in his eyes, his face, all lusty and passionate.

“Home!” squeals out.

Chapter 11

It's too late, his lips are already touching mine.

I'm desperate to shove hard. Knee him. Break his nose. I need a gun. I definitely need a gun.

He's breathing into me, tracing that hideously long tongue around my mouth.

Lifting me off the couch, he starts walking.

Na-ah! No!

“
Relax.”

“
Nuuuuh.”

He's not walking to the stairs, we're going...? Wait. The car! Oh thank God! He's taking me to the car.

“Don't start a riot,” he says, putting me in the passenger seat. “I'll be right back with your clothes.”

That reminds me.

Looking down, I'm drowning in another man's shirt. And it freaks me out. There's no comfort here, at all. It's too personal, like he's staking his claim, replacing the image he had of me wearing Dustin's sweatshirt.

He returns, now wearing a tight thinsulate black vest with long sleeves, hiding the marks on both arms, and invisible wings. It gives him thug appeal. Watching him as he slips into the car next to me, putting my stuff in the back, I have to admit black is his color. It suits him. His hair is really glossy, long, touching his shoulders, thick but fine. It looks soft.

“You're staring, princess.”

I want to be able to argue. How dare he incapacitate my ability to speak.

Turning back, he smiles at me, running his hand up my naked thigh.

“
Give me that week, and I'd bet my rank you'll have a change of heart.”

Rank? What rank? Fuhhhk. He's probably military with the stuff he works on. Gene warfare, the dawn of the new age. What was he really doing in Russia?

When he moves, that subliminal music whispers over me, buzzing against my skin, doing a fun ride through my ear canals. How does he make music? For the record, it's not possible.

He leans over me, pulling the seatbelt on. He's radiating heat! And smells like dry sand, covered in honey. It makes me smile, thinking of ants running all over him. Hahahaaa.

“You're smiling. Careful now, I might get the impression you're going soft on me.”

There's not enough room in this car for your ego.

“Your narrowed eyes speak a thousand words.” He sits back in his seat, stretching long legs out to the pedals. “I told you looks are deceiving. Believe me yet?”

Laughing at my expression, he starts the car, and immediately the music that was playing earlier scowls into the four corners and out the back window at the road. Daring anyone to mess with six strings and an epileptic drum-kit.

Right, so everything I thought I knew about Erik is bullshit. This is who he really is. I still can't find much to like.

The drive home is quick and painless. It's late, no one's about. I'm alone, in the dark, with madness.

Shutting the engine off directly in front of my door, he gets out, coming around, unbuckling me, and hoisting me into his arms. Holding too tight, cradled against his chest, he pauses at my front door, fishing
my
key out of
his
pocket. He's probably made himself a copy in the time I was 'under'.

I need to change the locks.

Taking me through to the bedroom, moonlight is our only witness. Apprehension starts sharpening claws into my insides.

Laying me down, he dips, kissing me full on the lips, “Goodnight princess.”

Flipping the comforter over me, he tucks me in.

“
Why do you call me princess?”

It's a slur, but at least I got it out of my mouth, even if it makes me sound blind-drunk.

“Your name means princess. Sarah means princess.”

He sits down, bracing an arm next to my waist, staring down at me.

“It suits you. You
are
a princess. More than you know.”

“
Did you steal anything when you were alone in here?”

He arcs his strong neck, chuckling a low rumble.

Finally looking back at me, his expression is affectionate, “No. I don't need to.”

He lifts my hand, pressing it against his chest, “You already live in here. In my veins. I gave half my soul to you. I know you better than you know yourself.”

Cue X-Files theme tune. Or Twilight Zone. Someone jump out and tell me this is all a joke.

“
I know what you're thinking. You think I'm obsessed with you. To a degree, you would be correct. But it's only because you've been missing a long time. When Ruth found you, I could finally breathe again.”

“
You are so delusional, you terrify me.”

“
Be that as it may, you must rest. You have a date at nine, and it's been a long day for you.”

Leaning over me, tinkles and odd humming whispers around me, and he presses soft warm lips below my ear. “Sweet dreams, princess.”

He stands, looming like a Metallica song, “I won't hurt you again. You have my word.”

All he needs is a whip, leather pants, and glowing yellow eyes, and I'll know I've lost my mind, my head an asylum for all things dark and deranged.

His smile becomes sad; twisting on a heel, he strides out of my room, his wide shoulders literally filling the doorway.

And he's gone.

I just manage to roll onto my side, shoving my head between the pillows, inhaling Dustin's comforting smell when I push my head onto his shirt.

Exhausted, I let the numb take over.

There's something seriously annoying about bright light when you're trying to sleep. It invades, pushes in, not caring that we like it dark when we're sleeping.

Flexing my hand, I'm relieved it moves. Using it to shield my eyes, before squinting lids apart, I peek.

It's still dark. The light is coming from directly in front of me. Carefully lowering my hand, there's a 'being' lounging against the doorframe, watching me. Like a human-looking lightning bug. All glowing, like lava, the color of citrine candlelight, warm, honeyed.

He's tall and slender, without hair. His features are more an impression than actually 'there'.

Tilting his head, he smiles, and it slants a bright beam of brilliant light through the room.

I know in my head, I should be screaming, afraid, running. But he instills me with warmth and tranquility, I can feel it from here. He's completely benign.

Walking in sloppy plods to me; if he could make sound, he'd be flatfooted, slapping feet on the tiles. He's fluid.

Sitting next to my legs, he puts a hand on my arm, looking down at me with beams of happiness.

Oddly, I find myself smiling back. The hand on my arm is warm, instant safe, instant home.

Who are you?

Before I can verbalize it, he answers, inside my head.

Lucierne
.

Lucern? Like the grass?

It's spelled differently.
And the image pops into my head.

“
Oh.”

He smiles again, watching me with loving vibes. This time he kept his mouth closed. The hand on me trickles a glowing vibration through me, warming me on the inside. It's immediately tranquilizing and meditative.

“Why are you here?”

He points into my chest with a long slender finger, it sinks into me, straight to my heart.
For you.

For me? Why?

Come here.

The way he says it, it's the voice of a father wanting to comfort a child. It's fluffy and cozy, and huddle strength.

He lies down next to me, wrapping me in his arms.

It's unadulterated comfort. Balming aches, hurts, pain, fear, his touch melts them all away. I've never felt so safe and cosseted in my life.

His body isn't hampered by the bed; he manages to sink his arm under me, without me having to move.

It's a soul caress. He's a happiness hug. A body of love and serenity.

It feels like home. Here, it feels like nothing could ever hurt me again. It's such relief, my eyes sting with hot tears.

He pulls me closer, inside the light of his chest, kissing the top of my head, sending long tendrils of drowsy heat down my spine. It's like being inside a cocoon.

You're safe with me.

He shows me an image inside my head - he's smiling, fond affection glowing from his bright eyes, tenderly tracing his hand down my face.

No hurt. Never hurt. I'm safe.

I know, logically, I should be alarmed. It refuses to be summoned, reserved somewhere dormant, waiting to lash an attack the next time it sees Erra.

Don't think his name. Be still. Be safe.

Snuggling in, I let his womb-like heat soothe me back to slumberland, thinking my life is crazy. I've lost my mind.