Immortal Distraction (14 page)

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He gave her little rest before he woke her. She was lying on her stomach, and he hovered over her with a knee at each hip. He started with his lips slowly brushing over the soft skin of her shoulder. She didn’t let him get far. “I need to shower first. I’m gross…” Her voice was sleepy.

“No. You smell like my cum. You smell like your cum. And personally, I think it smells incredible.” He returned to her shoulder, moving slowly down her back. Her bottom was beautiful and pale; the cheeks were round and firm. He sucked powerful kisses over her pale skin that left pink circles as he moved. They faded as he moved from one spot to the next, and when he was finished with her bottom, he pushed his knees between her knees, forcing her to open her thighs. He could see her beautiful pink lips at the junction of her thighs, and her lips were parted slightly.

He leaned back up over her body bracing himself on one elbow as he moved his mouth to her ear. And as he gently entered her pussy with two fingers, he spoke. “Is this what you thought was so gross? ” He was pushing and swirling his fingers through the wetness, and she gasped at his words. When he knelt back between her knees, he continued to work his fingers in and out as his cock flexed and danced between his legs. The last time he pulled his fingers from her body, he ran the wetness over his hard length, leaving it glistening and slippery.

After he pulled her up to her knees, he slid his knees between hers and then spread them out to lower her sex until it was hovering just above the bed. He intended to be gentle this time, but then, he’d intended to be gentle last time too. He pushed the head of his cock into her entry, watching his dick glide through the wetness, and he penetrated slowly as he enjoyed the sight of every last inch of his length disappearing into her body. When he reached her depths, she groaned and pulled forward slightly.

He started pushing and pulling, fighting his body to be slow and easy on her, but she started forcing her bottom toward him, meeting his gentle thrusts. He could see her tightly puckered anus, and he stroked slowly over it with a finger still wet from her body. She paused for only a moment before she relaxed to the touch. He entered her bottom with the tip of his middle finger, watching her bury her head in the sheets of her bed. He kept stroking his cock into her body, and she kept pushing back to him even though it sank his finger marginally deeper into her bottom. When he clutched her waist and stilled her body, he thrust deep into her vagina and held his depth there as well. She was panting, and when she felt his finger sink further and further into the hot, tight passage of her rectum, she cried out loudly, and clenched down tight. The muscles clamped down tight on his cock as well as his finger, and he let go of her waist to rub her lower back.

“Relax, sweetie.” He was waiting to feel the muscles relax around him before he moved, and as he rubbed the tension in her lower back, she did. He pushed deeper into her bottom before pulling out again. “More?” He watched her head that was still buried in her sheets. He could see the glistening puckered hole and his finger was itching to enter her again, but he was waiting. She nodded into the bedding. “Say it.”

“Yes.” He could barely hear the words spoken into the sheets over the furious pounding of her heart, but she’d said it.

He thrust a shallow penetration, feeling his finger move against the top of his cock through the thin skin that separated her channels. He eased in further and further, and this time, she stayed relaxed against the invasion. When he started thrusting in and out, she started moaning. He was still unmoving inside her vagina, and after tormenting her bottom for a while, he started alternating the thrust of his finger with the thrust of his cock. Her moans intensified. She was getting close, and so was he. He pulled his finger from her anus before leaning over her body to cover it with his. He laced his fingers with hers and he rolled his hips against her bottom. Her vagina was clenching around him harshly as her panting and moaning increased.

His mouth was at her neck, and his teeth were fully and painfully protracted into his mouth, begging to bite. He wouldn’t, but it didn’t mean his body wouldn’t want to. Instead, he nuzzled against her neck as he pushed into her pussy. They came together, and he gripped down hard on her hands as he pushed to her depths one final time, spilling his cum into her body again. She was left panting and gasping as she cried out through her release. Fuck he liked her just a bit too much.

When he withdrew from her body, she hissed, and rolled to her back. He stood and held his hand out for her. She took it, and he led her to the bathroom where he started a bath and gave her privacy to use the toilet before joining her in the warmth of the water. He held her body as they soaked away the cum and heated scent of their coupling. He was far too content and comfortable with her in his arms.

Angus was the fuck-and-forget kind. He’d not bothered to bed a human woman since his transition because he didn’t want to run the risk of becoming entangled with a human. And he’d held every female of his kind at arm’s length, moving on quickly after a time or two. He’d never had interest in a partner, not that he had any disdain for relationships. But eternity was a long time to be with one woman. Then again, eternity was a damn long time to be without this one.

He left her sleeping, clean and smelling of the subtle body wash he associated with her scent. She looked peaceful and content when she slept. She looked far younger in this peace than she looked when she was awake with the weight of the world on her shoulders. The moment he stepped from her house into the cold of the early morning, he missed the feel of her warmth. A slow working panic was setting into his soul. She was going to be difficult to let go.

Chapter 13

“I’m Detective Sutton; this is Detective Humphreys. We have an arrest warrant for Driscoll DeMarco in unit 2A of this building. Please stand aside.”

The man glared at her, but stayed silent. He was one of them. Whatever that meant. He was like Angus and the beautiful couple from his building—pale and pristine, but she didn’t like this one, not like she was drawn to Angus. He stared at her hungrily or was it angrily. He looked as though he wanted her dead, and she returned his cold, dead stare with an impassive one.

“I’m Langford, and I own this building. What is this about?”

“Please stand aside, Mr. Langford. We have an arrest warrant to exercise, and we’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”

“Well he’s not here. He doesn’t live here. I’ve already told you that. And don’t you need a search warrant to enter?

“Not when I have an arrest warrant. Mr. DeMarco is wanted in connection to a crime, and we have a witness statement indicating he resides in this building. Now I’m not to ask you again. Step aside, Mr. Langford.”

His jaw clenched as he stepped out of her way, and she and Humphreys passed into the building. It was another stunning old building, much like the one Angus lived in, but not quite of the same caliber. They had to break the door to enter after knocking incessantly for a few minutes. She didn’t expect to find him there—that would be entirely too easy. But the arrest warrant allowed them to get in, and if there was any visible evidence of a crime, they’d be able to collect it and get a search warrant to further search his residence.

When they entered the residence, it was nice—incredibly nice, but it was trashed. They had a team with them to clear the apartment, but it became evident quickly that it was deserted.

When it was all said and done, they found bloody clothing they were able to bag as evidence and that would pave the way to a search warrant. The kitchen was oddly empty, aside from being as filthy as the rest of the residence. Brit was happy with the bloody clothing. There were multiple pieces of clothing, and she hoped she’d get multiple DNA hits from the six victims to link them all back to DeMarco. But that would take time. The crime lab was backlogged, and there was nothing to be done but wait.

On the quiet ride back to the precinct with Humphreys, she stared out the window. It had been three days since she had seen her mother in the hospital or spoken to Angus. Her mother was being released today, and Brit had offered to pick up some groceries and drive her home. She was dreading it. She was busy on the case, and she didn’t have time for it, but she was fighting the guilt after managing to miss the fact that her mother was in the hospital for two days.

As the buildings passed, she zoned out on the case. Six victims meant a serial, but it didn’t feel like a serial, and whatever kind of monster he was didn’t lend to it either. There was little real consistency in the victims aside from their lifestyle. He might kill in the same manner; the ME’s report said as much, but there was nothing ritualistic about it. He was hunting. That made sense to her rationale, though there was no way to discuss that with the man sitting beside her. But, it could throw the entire investigation off if they were searching for a serial. The only common thread between the victims was their involvement in drugs and street life. But aside from that, what did they have to go on?

She left early in the afternoon as Humphreys glared at her. She wanted to get the groceries before picking her mother up at the hospital, and when she finally managed to get the woman home, her mother sacked out on her coach, nearly falling asleep with a cigarette in her mouth. When she stubbed the cigarette out in the nearby ashtray, she caught sight of the crack rock sitting on the table. The pipe caught her attention next, nearly hidden under the coffee table, and as she flushed the rocks down the toilet, she cried. It would be the death of her. There was no doubt. And every favor, every nice word Brit tried to give the woman would eventually be flushed down the toilet just like the drugs. There was no purpose to even flushing it. She’d find more. She always found more, and eventually, she’d find the rock that would be her last or the john that would be her last. And Brit would be the one hurt again.

When she left, her mother’s kitchen was clean again, her refrigerator was full, her mother was sleeping soundly without a cigarette in her mouth, and Brit had found what she hoped was the majority of the drugs and flushed them all before crushing three glass pipes and dumping them in the garbage. Not bad for a day’s work. But she was tired, she was lonely, and she was ready to call it a night.

When she pulled up in front of her townhouse, she hopped out quickly, shivering head to toe. It was late, and she was counting the steps to a hot bath and a good glass of wine. But the moment she slammed the car door closed, she was yanked back away from the car and was flying. She could see the hood of her car as her body sailed over it toward her lawn. She registered instantly the impossibility of it. She had been lifted and tossed like she weighed nothing at all over her own car, and as she watched the ground approach, she tucked her head down and rolled into it. It wasn’t enough to completely soften the blow and the deep ache in her left shoulder told her that it was either dislocated or had popped out and back in. It was an old injury from field training and didn’t take much.

Brit was well trained for combat, and the moment she rolled out of the fall, she rolled to her back, pulling her handgun from its holster at her hip as she rolled. But she wasn’t quick enough, and the moment she lifted it to aim, it was knocked from her hands and sent sailing nearly as far as her body had been thrown. Now she was panicking. It was Driscoll. She recognized him from the surveillance images, and he was dressed in dark clothing. His skin was pale white, and his teeth were barred as she stared up at him. He was straddling her hips, and she was pinned to the ground with snow quickly filling the back of her shirt and working its way down the back of her pants, but she paid it no attention.

“No, no, no!” She could hear her screams even though she didn’t recall intentionally making them, and when she put a fist in his gut, he retaliated by backhanding her hard across the cheek, so hard, in fact, she thought she might lose consciousness. She could hear a car approaching, but with the bank of shrubbery at her curb and the high snowdrifts beyond, there was little chance a passerby would see her unless they were intently looking.

When Brit’s flailing arms hit on her gardening bucket that had been set by the steps of her townhouse, she grasped. Her fingers felt like icicles and trying to latch to any one of the tools the bucket held was nearly impossible. Once she finally fumbled around and caught one by the handle, she nearly dropped it when the ice-cold metal handle burned into her already frozen skin.

She poised it ready to stab, and when she caught the man’s face again, he was smirking. “What are you gonna do with that, huh? Stupid bitch cop!” And he backhanded her again as blood spilled from the corner of her mouth. She thrust the spade toward his gut, but his hand moved quicker than her eyes could focus, and she was left staring at the spade in his hand and the smirk again. His teeth were barred once more, and she focused on the canines—fangs. They shined in the moonlight and the reflection off the snow, and she was quite certain in that moment she was going to die.

She heard the sound of snow crunching under feet at an impossibly fast pace before she heard his voice, and when she did, her heart let go of its absolute certainty that this was her end. “Get the fuck off her!” And then Driscoll’s body was torn away from hers. She sat quickly, scampering back to the steps behind her, and she tried to watch. There was no keeping up with the movements of their bodies, and watching made her pounding head throb all the more.

When one of the figures yelped and then darted down the street in a streak of pale skin, her eyes darted after him, but when she looked back to the figure crouched on the ground ten feet away from her, it was now Angus who was there. He was on one knee with a hand on the ground. As she glanced to his twinkling crystalline blue eyes, he looked just as predatory as Driscoll had, and when her attention dropped to his open mouth, she gasped … and she panicked. Fangs. Long, glinting, white canines just as she’d seen in Driscoll’s mouth, and he was snarling with his lips pulled as though ready to attack.