Muzzling the Beast: Taming the Beast, Book 4 (10 page)

She put her hand on his. “Let me.”

“Gladly.”

Her soft strokes made him even harder as she eased the slippery latex down his ginormous erection. Grinning, Gabe entered her easily, her body made to shelter and satisfy his. He suckled her neck for the longest time—marking her with a hickey, no doubt—then further staked his claim by giving her a lover’s bite on each nipple.

Not to be outdone, she dragged her nails down his torso to his ass and stroked his tight ring before heading for his balls.

Gabe stilled and then pumped into her furiously, shaking the mattress. With her legs wrapped around his lean hips, Constance held on, the depth of her desire matching his, surpassing lust and fun to something much deeper.

Their first orgasm came far too quickly, though neither of them surrendered to fatigue. As they kissed, Constance used all of her strength to try to roll Gabe over so he’d be beneath her. At last, he cooperated, lying spread-eagle. Once she eased off the condom, Constance tossed it aside. Gabe turned his head to follow its journey.

She had something else to engage him. Straddling his gorgeous bod, her back to his front, Constance unfolded herself over him and murmured, “Dinner is served.”

Gabe’s weary laughter filled the room, followed by sounds of them enjoying each other’s sex—artless, indecent noises more beautiful than the music they’d heard at the restaurant. As he licked and suckled her clit, Constance lingered over his cock, enjoying it far more than she had the lamb, tonguing his balls for dessert, not wanting anything else.

He regained his strength quickly, his cock growing as stiff and long as before. Her tongue pleasured it for minutes until they both came again, limbs and arms entwined, bodies so weak neither of them moved except to haul in air.

Throughout the night, she kept waking and rousing Gabe, needing more. Despite his exhaustion, he denied her nothing until they simply collapsed.

Constance didn’t sleep. Couldn’t. Her mind continued to race as the minutes and hours ticked by. After what seemed an eternity, dawn approached.

She continued to regard him in the watery morning light, recording his profile, the firm line of his jaw, the curve of his cheek, and his rich mouth.

His upper lip fluttered with his mild snores, urging her to kiss it. Constance resisted, not wanting to wake him, anguished at the thought of saying goodbye.

A few more minutes, please.

As luck would have it, his snores turned from quiet to loud, startling him. He frowned as though confused and squinted as he glanced around, finally settling his gaze on her. “Hey.”

“Hi.” She ran her fingers down his chest and forced herself to be brave. No turning back now. “I have to tell you something.”

Instantly, he went from relaxed to cautious, no doubt seeing her heartache. “What is it?” He pushed to a sitting position and held her hand in both of his.

How wonderful it was when she had no right to such comfort. Getting tough with herself, Constance eased her hand from his. “Before I say anything, I need your promise you’ll never tell another soul. No one. I mean it.”

Gabe stared at her hand for a moment longer before lifting his face, his expression unreadable. “Is this about a crime? Something you’ve seen going on at your office?”

She had to smile. “No crime’s been committed there, at least not in your world.”

“You mean as a cop?”

“I mean in your world period. You have no idea what I am.”

“What
you are?” He arched his eyebrows so much they nearly touched his hairline. “Are you okay?” Leaning closer, he stared at her eyes. “Are you experiencing dizziness, nausea? Did you hit your head last night while we were—”

“No.” She left the bed and paced. “I’m not hallucinating or crazy. I’m trying to tell you the truth for once.”

“About what?”

“Me.”

He was silent a moment and then sighed loudly. “Oh hell. You lied about being married?”

“Fuck, no.” She paced faster, wringing her hands. “I’m…that is…you see…what I mean to say…I don’t know how… Well, actually I do, however…” Shit, she couldn’t get it out.

He left the bed. “What are you trying to say?”

Constance stopped and turned to him. “Before I tell you, I need your word you won’t repeat it to anyone, ever.”

“Sure.” Gabe lifted his shoulders. “Why not.”

“This isn’t a game,” she cried. “It’s important. You have to promise and mean it.”

“Oh, baby, I am and I do.” He reached for her. She backed away. Gabe regarded the distance between them. “Believe me, I wasn’t making light of what you’re trying to say. You have my word not to repeat it to anyone ever. Now please, tell me what’s going on.”

His worry was obvious and all her fault. “I’m not who you think I am. To begin with, I’m not Becca’s assistant.”

He stopped nodding in encouragement and stepped back. “You’re not lovers, are you?”

Constance laughed. “No. She’s into Eric. I’m clearly into you.” She gestured to the messy bed.

Gabe smiled, but she didn’t return it. “Look,” he said. “If this is about you not being Becca’s assistant and having another job title, I’m cool with it if you are.”

“It’s not about a title. It’s about what I do at the service, which doesn’t include hypnosis in any way, shape or form.”

His expression grew wary. “Is it illegal?”

“Not in
your
world. Aren’t you listening?”

Gabe held up his hands. “Absolutely. If it’s not illegal, then what’s the problem? How bad can it be?”

“Very. At least in your world.”

“Wait, hold it.” He frowned. “What is this stuff you keep saying about my world? We’re both in the same one.”

“No, we’re not. You’re a mortal cop. I’m a voodoo priestess.”

Chapter Ten

He laughed.

She’d caught him so off guard with her act. Gabe had expected Constance to admit to something pretty damn awful—even having dated Quentin and other clients to make them forget past girlfriends. But this? Aw, shit, she was playing with him, being bad, trying to coax him into spanking her again.

“Baby.” Still chuckling, he padded closer, ready to turn her over his knee.

Before he could touch her, Constance backed away, arms wrapped around her, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Gabe dropped his hands, queasiness rising from his belly to his throat. She was either the greatest actress on earth, liking to take a joke to the extreme, or she honestly believed this shit.

“What is this really about?” he finally asked, stone-cold sober.

Constance fingered tears from her cheeks. “Exactly what I said before. I’m a voodoo—”

“Yeah, I heard. What’s it mean? You attend conventions with other people, sort of like a Trekkie?”

She frowned, a look of offense on her face. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. Mortals never do.”

Huh? Gabe’s nausea worsened as he considered Constance might be mental, though not through any fault of her own. Maybe she’d suffered abuse as a child and had alternate personalities, and they were coming out now because of the stress of being with him. Could be she found great sex and happiness daunting, just as others couldn’t take bad shit.

He risked a step toward her. “I’m trying to understand, really. But I’m not certain what you’re talking about. Can you explain, at least a little?”

She turned to the side and breathed hard. “Remember Quentin?”

How could he have forgotten? It was only a couple of hours ago. “Uh-huh.”

“I didn’t hypnotize him as I’d told you. It was a lie. I removed his memories, actually obliterated them, so he’d never again think about the mortal who’d dumped him.”

There it was again, her using the term
mortal
, as though she was…what? Immortal? New laughter threatened at the absurdity of this, while his disquiet for her sanity grew. “How’d you manage to zap his memories?”

She faced him, jaw clenched. “Don’t make light of this.”

“I’m not. I’m just asking a question. Poor choice of words, admittedly, but I want to know.”

“I laid my hands on his head and used my powers, what else? Within a second, the memories he wanted gone went poof.” She waved her hand in demonstration.

He would have felt better if she’d told him about chanting a spell or using a potion, keeping this on an even more impossible or ridiculous level rather than where it seemed to be heading. Picturing Constance laying her hands on Quentin’s head made Gabe uneasy for reasons he didn’t understand. Again, a memory pressed close and flitted away. “You’re telling me you have supernatural powers?”

God, simply saying it sounded insane.

“It’s who I am.”

Or thought she was. Surely, there had to be a reasonable explanation. “Why are you telling me this now?”

Her eyes grew shiny again. “You had to know. We were getting so involved.”

Were? As in past tense? Like maybe she was breaking up with him when they’d barely gotten started? A surge of despair flooded Gabe, followed by a flash of white-hot anger. He frowned. “What do you take me for, the ultimate fool? Why are you really doing this? If you’ve suddenly decided you don’t want to see me again, just say so. I’m a big boy. I’ll accept your decision. Hell, I have no choice, no matter how I feel. I’ll stay out of your life for good, all right? No need to put on this damn act—”

“It’s not an act,” she cried. “I’m not revealing any of this because I want you out of my life. I’m doing it because I’m falling for you, dammit. I’ve never wanted another man more.”

His outrage drained away, replaced by frustration and renewed worry. “Baby, you do understand none of what you’re saying is possible, right? It’s fun to pretend, but—”

“Do you remember how you got from the reception area to Becca’s office the day we met?” She padded closer. “Do you recall what we talked about in Becca’s office before I kissed you? How about what happened on the landing after you left—that would be before I came out and pointed to After Dark again. Do you remember the guy you were talking to? It’s my guess you don’t.

“And when we were at Pasquets,” she said. “Your memories had started to return. How, I don’t know. But they did, until I made them go away again. Any of this ringing a bell?”

He saw the moment in his mind, them sitting close in the outdoor portion of the restaurant. Laughing. Talking. Her leaning into him, brushing her fingers over the side of his head. Him suddenly unable to remember what they’d been talking about.

No. Fuck, no.
It was pissing impossible. “This is nuts.”

“It’s who I am.”

Gabe refused to believe it. “You hypnotized me while we were at the restaurant and at the office, making me forget.”

“Why would I have done so?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

She heaved out a sigh. “I wish what you’re thinking were true, but it’s not. I’m a—”

“Don’t say it.” He pointed at her. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Her mouth trembled, but she pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “I know. Why do you think I was so afraid to tell you? You can’t ever repeat—”

“Are you serious? You think I’d actually tell anyone about this loony conversation?”

“Of course you wouldn’t.” She ran her finger beneath her nose. “It would be too weird in your world, wouldn’t it?

“It’s not my goddamn world,” he shouted. “You’re in it too.”

Constance shook her head. “Not in the way you want. I can see it now. Nothing would have ever changed your mind on this.”

“This what?”

“What I am. I shouldn’t have lied to you in the beginning, and I’m honestly sorry for it. But I’ll never regret these last days we spent together. They were more wonderful than I could have imagined. Now they’re over. It’s time for you to return to your life, to people like you, and leave me to what I am.”

“You’re a who, not a what, dammit.”

“Please leave. Now. Don’t come back.”

Before Gabe could respond, she grabbed her gown and left the room. Seconds later, a door slammed down the hall, probably the one for the bath.

Gabe started to follow and then stopped, not knowing what he could possibly say. A part of him clung to the idea that she’d put on an act by claiming to be a—hell no, he couldn’t even think it.

However, deep inside, he was still worried about her mental state, believing nonsense he knew couldn’t possibly be real. Even Father Archambault wasn’t into demon possession, exorcisms or other junk, and he was a freaking priest raised to believe in it.

What was happening to Constance had to be psychological, with a little hypnotism thrown in, which would easily explain why he couldn’t recall some of the stuff from the first time they’d met.

As to the rest of what she’d said…

He dressed hurriedly and then debated whether to say goodbye, write a note, or send a text. He decided against doing any of it. Right now, he needed answers, not another confrontation.

At the front door, he turned and whispered, “Baby, it’s okay to get help when you need it. It’ll make everything better. And believe me, I’m going to get you the best there is.”

She was too precious to Gabe for him to consider anything else.

Constance’s head was in her hands when she heard the front door close gently, as though Gabe was more than relieved with her decision to have him leave her life.

What else did you expect?

To have him accept her real identity had been a fantasy, nothing else. He was repelled by her now, or thought she was nuts. Either way, the man was history and she wanted to die.

For the longest time, Constance couldn’t stop crying. When she had no tears left, she was too weary to drag herself back to bed. Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep” awakened her sometime later. Stiff from sleeping on the bathroom floor, she staggered down the hall to the living room and her smartphone.

A quick glance at the screen told her Becca was calling.

Oh, crap. Constance had slept all morning, along with a good part of the afternoon, and now it was time for her to be at work.

“Hi,” she said before Becca could speak. “I can’t come in today. Actually, I can’t come in for a few days. I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” Becca said. “Why are you crying?”

She trembled with new tears. “Sorry.”

“No need to be. Did something happen with Gabe?”

“No—yes—oh, crap. I told him we wouldn’t be seeing each other again. I couldn’t keep lying. It wasn’t right. Everything you said was true. This never could have worked out, so I told him…” She wasn’t able to continue.

“Do you want me to come over?”

“No. I don’t want to see anyone. I just need to be alone for a couple of days, please.”

“Of course. I’ll have Heather reschedule your appointments. No pressure. Take as many days as you want. If you need anything, call, please. We’re here for you. We’re your family.”

“I just wanted him to love me.”

“Oh, sweetie, I know. I wish I could make this better for you.”

Constance smiled. “None of your potions or spells, please.”

Becca laughed softly. “I promise. Take care?”

She just wanted to sleep. “I will. Bye.” Killing the call, Constance made another and sagged to the floor as she waited for it to connect.

Gabe rushed through his paperwork, worry gnawing at him. By three in the afternoon, he was finally able to head out and went directly to the building where Constance worked. H stopped dead on the sidewalk and looked up.

The instrumental from
The Exorcist
played in his mind as Gabe recalled a scene from the movie—the priest standing beneath a streetlamp, staring at the room where the little girl was, with her being crazy as shit, possessed by a demon.

This is fucking nuts.

Constance was confused. Maybe her blood sugar was too low. There had to be a reasonable explanation, and by God, he was going to beg or bully her coworkers into telling him.

Hopefully, she wasn’t here yet and wouldn’t be while he conducted his investigation of her.

Taking the steps two at a time, he prepared himself mentally to deal with the people inside. They were rough around the edges, as Constance had said—nothing more. Gabe took a deep breath and opened the door, prepared to tackle Heather if she tried to run away before answering his questions.

The reception area was empty. No music played. In fact, it was eerily quiet.

Was everyone eating a late lunch in the break room?

A noise caught his attention, like a door creaking as someone opened it. He stepped back and glanced down the hall. Nothing. Maybe the sound had come from the other—

A piercing howl shattered the silence, curdling his blood. He tensed, expecting to hear the twang of an electric guitar next, then drums, because MJ was screwing around with the sound system again.

The howling continued sans music until a loud thud cut it off, like someone slamming a door. What kind of fucking music was that supposed to be?

He looked over as someone entered from the outside. The guy wore a hoodie despite the stifling heat and had his head down as if trying to hide his face. He turned to Heather’s empty chair and then faced Gabe, revealing himself.

Jesus.
He looked like a walking skeleton, sallow skin stretched over prominent bones, the whites of his eyes yellow, the same as his teeth, which he bared.

The hair on the back of Gabe’s neck stood up. He stepped back.

Hurried footfalls rang in the hall. “The reaper’s finally here,” Stefin called out.

The what?

Gabe spun around. Stefin paused and then grinned broadly. “Detective Legrand—Gabe. Stefin here.” He spoke to the skeleton. “You’re late, again. Come with me. No arguments.”

Quickly, he had a headlock on the guy, who tried to fight but didn’t have enough bulk.

Stefin wiggled his eyebrows at Gabe. “You can see I’m the better enforcer. Be sure to tell Daemon so.”

Gabe’s mouth hung open at the flames flickering in Stefin’s eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Zoe said.

He turned at her voice, that still sounded as if she’d been gargling Drāno. Smoke rose from the ends of her hair as it had the last time he saw her, only now she wasn’t holding a cigarette, nor did she have a lit one perched on the top of either ear. Maybe her eyes were causing the smoke, because they had flames in them too.

Good God, both she and Stefin stunk of sulfur rather than fragrance.

Gabe’s heart jumped to his throat. What in the fuck was going on? He heard more footfalls and turned to the other hall.

Becca skidded to a stop. She was back to wearing her weird makeup and harem duds. Her attention sped from him to Zoe, Stefin, the skeleton, and back. She mouthed something Gabe could’ve sworn was, “Oh shit,” and then looked like she wanted to run.

He had the same thought.

Quick as could be, Zoe stood in front of the door, arms crossed over her chest, her irises completely hidden by bobbing flames.

Sweat poured down Gabe’s face, stinging his eyes. He blinked rapidly, hoping to clear his vision of the freak show he was seeing.
“Ah.”
He jumped at the hand on his arm. Becca’s. Her eyes were as blue as Windex, no flames. Maybe he’d just had a hallucination. Could be the lamb he and Constance had eaten last night had been tainted with slow-acting LSD or something.

The skinny guy wailed suddenly. When Gabe looked again, the poor sucker still resembled a corpse, the flames in Stefin and Zoe’s eyes bobbed merrily and smoke still covered her hair.

“Come with me,” Becca said.

“No.” Gabe stepped back.

“Do you want me to call Daemon, Taro, and Anatol?” Stefin asked Becca. “They can handle the reaper while I take care of Detective Legrand—Gabe.”

“The fucking what?” Gabe shouted at Stefin.

“Reaper,” Becca said. “Exactly what you think the word means.”

He gawked at her. “You can’t be serious.”

“Please come with me. I swear, no one will hurt you. But we need to know you won’t hurt us.”