Runes (8 page)

Sean was abruptly awakened by someone leaning on his door buzzer. The piercing sound startled his heart, and he was instantly on his feet, running for the door. Please let it be Evangeline, he thought, tearing aside the gates and grills. Who could it be but her?

“I’m hurrying,” he called, his mind awhirl with the thought of seeing her again, of throwing open the final gate and catching her precious body to him.

But when he reached the last door, he slumped in disappointment.

“Weenie,” cried his sister, who threw herself into his arms. He held her weakly, his heart giving a sickening thud. His dreams splintered about him, leaving behind a humming in his ears and the treacherous despondence of the past few days without Evangeline.

“Come in,” he said, dazed, and followed Olivia inside. When he’d finished closing the gates, he turned to find her staring at him.

“My God, Sean, what happened to your hands?” she exclaimed, dropping her bags and reaching for them.

Through a blur of tears, he looked at the devastating cuts. They’d bled for hours, but he’d finally managed to stop the flow around dawn, and then sank to the couch, which held countless memories of Evangeline, and fallen asleep.

“I was working,” he said off-handedly.

“Working?” Her familiar brown eyes, the feminine version of his own, studied his ravaged appearance. “What the hell are you working on?”

“Art,” he choked, spinning away from her. He walked to the kitchen, trailing a finger along the countertop, thinking of his most recent artwork. In the background, the throaty tones of Evangeline’s recorded song drifted from the living room.

“Sean,” Olivia said, blocking his path. She gripped him by the shoulders and shook him lightly. “You’ve been ignoring my phone calls for days, and refused to take Mom’s, too. Have you been to work? Or Tae Kwan Do? Tell me what’s going on.”

His throat constricted on the words she needed but would never understand. To her, Evangeline was a fling, not the love of his life. Now the future he’d imagined with her was shattered.

“What is it?” she asked in a frightened whisper, searching his face.

“Evangeline,” he said, passing a hand over his numb face. “She’s gone.”

Olivia’s shoulder bag dropped to the floor with a thud. She lunged for Sean and captured him in her arms. He let his sister hold him for a moment, enjoying the comforting, sisterly smell of her hair. But his arms ached for Evangeline.

Sean led Olivia into his bedroom, tormented by memories of leading his lover here. He crumpled on the bedside, bowed his head and gestured to the long wall.

Olivia gasped. “My God, Sean,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”

“I know,” he responded, openly crying now.

His sister looked at him with horror.

“It’s her tattoo. On her throat. See? When she was lying down, this is how it looked,” he said brokenly. He’d spent days cutting the intricate stars and rune shapes, and then welding the metal parts together, creating a magnificent puzzle. The sight of it tortured him. He knew without a doubt that she’d been torn from him. She hadn’t wanted to go.

“Sean,” Olivia said unevenly, “this is not normal. Come away with me. Come to New York and stay. Don’t stay here with these memories and your pain. It’s obviously bigger than you. Please let me help.”

He shook his head. “I can’t go. What if she comes back?”

She fell to her knees before him and gathered his hands into hers. “Then she stays someplace else until she can contact you. What the hell happened?” From the other room Evangeline’s song began again on continuous play. “Is that her?” Olivia asked.

His head bobbed. Tears dropped onto his hands. “She’d never have left of her own free will. She was coerced, taken from me. I saw her eyes and I know her. Dammit,” he cried, jumping to his feet. He lunged forward and rammed his already bloodied knuckles into the brick wall. His sister screamed, but it felt so satisfying to give in to anger, he did it again. “I should have done something. I should have saved her,” he whispered. He swept his arm across the top of his dresser, sending all of his Tae Kwan Do trophies crashing to the floor. He cocked his foot and kicked them, grinding them beneath his boot. He spun to the corner, where the empty cardboard box stood. The box that had once held Evangeline’s clothes. He sent a series of kicks into it, crushing it. The noise of his assault mingled with Olivia’s screams.

Then Olivia was restraining him, fighting him to stop. Her tears cut through the haze, and he gained precious control. He dropped back, breathing like he’d raced for miles uphill. Beads of sweat from his hairline trickled down his jaw.

“All right,” he said at last, drawing her into his arms. He could smell her citrusy perfume but longed for Evangeline’s sandalwood scent. His gaze fixed upon the empty corner where she’d kept the cardboard box filled with her clothes, because she'd refused his dresser or closet space. Not able to bear the thought that she’d never return to him, he clutched his sister. Her loving hold did little to comfort him. Only one thing could ease his despair. Evangeline.

“I’ll go,” he said and broke into sobs anew.

* * * *

Standing on the Chicago streets, Sean shook the house keys in his grasp. He fumbled with the multiple locks in his hurry to get inside and listen to his answering machine. Evangeline hadn’t called his cell, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t left a message on his home phone.

He hurled his travel bag into the corner, slammed the door, and dashed across the living room, his heart racing at the sight of the blinking red light on the machine. Falling to his knees, he jabbed the play button. As the male voice filled the room, his heart sank with defeat. But listening closer, a cold terror stole over him, numbing his face and hands.

“This message is for Sean Livingston,” the voice said. “I have information regarding the whereabouts of Evangeline Mayer if you would meet me to discuss it.”

He jotted down an address, jabbing the paper with his pen. Without shutting off the machine, he ran across the room, back to the door, his feet struggling for purchase on the slippery concrete. He burst into the sunlit street without bothering to lock the gates. And began running.

She was in trouble. He’d known it, God, he’d known. His feet churned against the sidewalk, and he dodged a group of students just released from school. The voice had given him precise instructions to meet him at four o’clock at a restaurant sixteen blocks away. Without checking his watch, he knew the hour was near, and he was terrified he wouldn’t make it.

Around the street corners he tore, apologizing when he ran into a man in a business suit, but continuing in a hell-bent fever. Four more blocks, and he would learn what had happened to Evangeline, his precious woman. Or would he learn that she was dead?

He faltered at the thought, nearly stopping. His brain told him to stop running, but his heart pushed on. Two blocks. Rounding the corner, he fixed the restaurant in his sight and sprinted into moving traffic, weaving between vehicles as tires screeched and horns blared.

His fingers wrapped around the door handle, and he burst inside, panting and frantically searching left and right, his eyes straining to adjust to the dim recesses after the sunlight. With a thumping heart, he noticed a man with straight brown hair and small wire-rimmed eyeglasses staring at him. He waved away the hostess and reached his table in four strides.

“Sean?” the man asked.

“Yes,” he gasped, collapsing into the chair opposite, quaking.

The man pushed a glass of ice water toward him. “I’m sorry to drag you into this sorry business,” he said.

Sean shoved it away and leaned into the man’s face. “Tell me what happened to her.”

The man held up a wallet-sized photograph. “Do you know this woman?”

Sean squinted at it. “Yes,” he said, snatching it from him. His heart turned over. The background of the photograph was blurry as if it had been shot using a high-powered lens. Evangeline was more gorgeous than even his desperate mind recalled, glowing skin and dark hair flattened to her skull in waves.

He met the man’s eyes. The photograph trembled in his hand. “It’s Evangeline.”

“Are you willing to help?” the man asked. “She doesn’t seem to have family willing to.”

“Anything,” Sean rasped.

“I’m with a special division of the government. She was last seen with some people in an airport in South America. We believe she’s in danger. Do you have a passport?”

“Of course,” he answered, his head whirling. Drug trafficking. It had to be. Somehow she’d been dragged into the dark world she’d fought so hard to set aside.

“Meet me at the airport. Our flight leaves in three hours. If we’re on it,” he said, removing the picture from Sean’s fingers and studying it closely, “Evangeline has a chance.”

Sean’s heart raced. She might be alive, and he might be able to save her. He clenched his sore fists to feel the pain because he couldn’t know. But he’d be on that goddamned plane, and no one would stand in his way of getting Evangeline back.

Will led Evangeline into the quaint farmhouse kitchen, lured by the scents of coffee and fresh muffins. They hadn’t completed their bond, but they’d spent long, crazed hours pushing each other to the edge. He could still smell her on him.

As this thought rose in his mind, her face burned in response. Though Sean would be a sore spot in her soul for a long time to come, Will and Evangeline’s connection was deeper and purer than a mere mortal love story, and he thought she was ready to complete their bond.

He seated her at the table and poured her a steaming mug of coffee. Her hair was tousled and her porcelain skin reddened from the scrape of his beard. Within the hour, he intended to have her beneath him again.

He sought her hand. Her slender fingers clung to his, but she would not lift her eyes from her plate. One glance at her spoke of her discomfort. An image of Sean flitted through her head, pouring into Will’s and igniting his jealousy once more. Too many times he’d seen Sean’s muscled arms entwined with his immortal mate. And though he’d just spent a good portion of the morning diligently satisfying her, he wanted all of her. She withdrew her hand and let it dangle limply in her lap. Then she gracefully rose to her feet and walked out.

“Evangeline.”

Will caught up to her at the door of the art studio. He clasped her forearm and spun her into his arms. She felt horribly fragile, like a wild bird. He stroked her back slowly, hoping to ease her.

“I know it’s going to be difficult for a while,” he said quietly. “And you can have all the time you need. But you’ve got to let me in.”

Her face tilted up to his. The sun reflected in her brilliant eyes, making them take on a paler hue. “The worst,” she said, her voice catching, “is knowing I disappeared from his life without another word.”

Around them, the day unfolded. Birds flitted about the luxurious gardens, and on the distant pond he heard the honk of geese. But between them, he felt the weight of Sean.

“Do you want to contact him?” Will asked.

They spent five heartbeats reading one another’s eyes, and then she wound her arms about his neck, pressing her slender body into him. “I love that you asked, Will, but I can’t,” she said softly, hugging him tight.

He lowered his mouth to hers and gave her the gentlest kiss. When he pulled away, she smiled.

“Let’s get my guitar,” she said. “And go upstairs.”

* * * *

Will carried her to his bedroom suite, set her on her feet, and put down her guitar. She leaned into his body and kissed him, her heat sinking into him, melting his bones, firing his blood in anticipation.

No waiting,
she said into him.

He gripped her shoulders and walked her backward toward his bed. Her tongue never released his, making erotic promises with its dance. Before she fell backward onto the mattress, he removed her shirt and bra. She lay bared to the waist, gazing up through desiring eyes.

“Don’t make me wait,” she said and twisted her nipples hard.

He nearly came unhinged at the sight. He wiggled off her tight jeans, hooked his thumbs in her panties, and slid them slowly down her body. Then he stood back with his fist beneath his chin to study her as one studies a painting.

“Anything missing?” she asked after a moment’s scrutiny.

“Yes,” he growled, covering her from head to toe with his body. “That sex flush you get. Your skin gets all pink and your pussy and nipples get darker until the very moment you come.”

“Then by all means, let’s work toward that goal,” she said, trailing her mouth over his jaw.

Abruptly he rolled off to stare up at the ceiling. She sat up and looked at her surroundings. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m thinking about the best way to approach this,” he said wickedly. “For maximum satisfaction, of course.”

“Well, your dirty talk is welcome,” she responded and then began her own. She ran a palm over her short dark pubic curls, saying, “My pussy looks a little hot. Maybe I should spread my legs a bit?”

“Yeah, baby, do that while I get rid of these clothes,” Will said. He stood at the bedside, watching her roll her clit between her fingers. “You love to touch it for me, don’t you?” he asked. “Now thrust that ass up and show me more.”

She did better than that. She rolled to her hands and knees and let him have a long look at her small pink anus. Her ass cheeks quivered as if begging him to touch them. He’d caressed them fleetingly before, but now he saw a scene with Sean flit through her head and better understood her desires.

Will saw her hips gathered up by Sean’s broad, blunt hands, and a pillow thrust beneath them. Then he heard her moan of ecstasy as Sean’s tongue probed her most intimate crevice. Chills of sensation washed over her, raising gooseflesh in its wake. Around the rim, Sean’s tongue worked, and then with a startling jolt, he stabbed his tongue into it. She quivered beneath his attentions, her pussy weeping with need. Sean kneaded her small firm buttocks while he licked her soft and slow, and with more pressure and an occasional stab which made her cry out. Then he withdrew, and exerted the slightest pressure as he inserted one fingertip. He circled it about the interior, stretching and pushing. Evangeline’s entire body cried out for release.

Will’s cock pulsed with a tumultuous mix of anger and desire. The vision of Sean’s strong fingers probing her ass made him shake with the need to strike the man. But a deeper, more honest part of him wanted Evangeline’s pleasure.

Without warning, Will rammed his index finger into her ass. A cry escaped her and she buried her face in the bedding. He gave her a moment to adjust and then slowly worked it out again. A long stuttering sigh escaped her, and she twisted so Will could see one flushed cheek.

He spoke into her mind.
You’re going to come this way, aren’t you? You never knew it before he touched you here, but now you can’t get enough.

She bobbed her head yes, driving him to sink his finger slowly into her hot, tight flesh again. Her ass pressed against him, taking every inch of his finger. He pulsed it rapidly in and out, listening to her sob for release, his cock growing harder by the second. And then he felt her muscles contract and knew her release was imminent.

“Come on, baby,” he rasped, repeatedly stabbing his finger into her increasingly tight anus. A heavy throbbing jarred his finger and he removed it, quickly flipping her face up. He kissed her deep and wildly, hotter than he’d ever been because she’d let him do this for her.

She gripped his erection. “No more foreplay, Will. I want all of you. Everything,” she said, shooting a glance at his night table where a small pocket knife rested.

He looked into her eyes, weighing her readiness. And though she still loved Sean, she’d given Will nothing but openness and honesty. Her body and soul were linked to him.

She pleaded with her gaze.

A soft part of his psyche broke open, and he knew beyond a doubt that she was ready now to be bound to him forever. And though he’d pleased her in many ways over the past day, the thought of this ultimate consummation had him trembling.

He took her into his arms and held her pliant body and felt her utter need. Gently, he lowered his mouth to her immortal tattoo, feeling the lines of every rune and the point of every star beneath his lips. The shock of his touch delivered a new jolt of desire, and he skimmed her nude back with his hands. Gooseflesh broke over her, and she shivered.

Covering her from head to toe with his body, he stared into her face. The glow that marked her as immortal would soon be enhanced by their bond. She would positively blaze with his mark on her soul, readable to any immortal she encountered. Never again would she leave his side.

Overcome with emotion, he buried his face in her throat and inhaled her musky scent. “Evangeline, my life began the moment you 'Called' to me. Know that no person in my life has compared to you,” he whispered.

A soft cry escaped her and she tightened her arms about his neck. “I’m ready to commit myself to you, Will. Now and forever.”

He captured her mouth in a searing kiss. It spoke of need. Of beginnings. His tongue found hers, tasting the salty mix of her tears, and he devoured them eagerly.

Her body molded precisely to his as though an indentation of clay. Her legs hooked around his hips and they rocked into one another, hot against hard. Dipping his mouth to her quivering breasts, he bathed them with his tongue even as her fingers sidled between their bodies and located the edges of his tattoo.

The shock drove their passion, and he poised at the quick of her moist heat, his erection already throbbing for release. He flipped open the blade of the pocket knife. It gleamed in the warm glow of afternoon sun. And with a simultaneous thrust and flick, he joined their bodies and slashed her forearm. Her eyes swam with tears and her mouth formed the plea, “Finish it, Will. Unite us.”

With a grunt of need, he cut his own arm. Tossing away the blade, he pressed his blood to hers. Fog consumed them as her heartbeat shifted and came to reside in his chest to keep time with his. A new tattoo blossomed over her heart, blood red and a mixture of their immortal tattoos. Spirals of runes and stars interspersed with the numbers he wore low on his abdomen.

He was overcome with the absolute protectiveness that stole over him. What shocked him was the love. He choked around the lump in his throat, but she beat him to it.

“I love you, Will.”

Slamming his mouth into hers, he began to move within her, chanting,
Love you. Love you so much.

Their bodies, tuned to heightened awareness of the other’s, experienced twice the pleasure. As he drove into her, her head fell back and her breath came in short bursts. He felt every cell in her body swell with her release. Juices pooled around his shaft, and the walls of her womb clamped about him with her orgasm, forcing his.

With a harsh grunt, he filled her with his seed, driving deeper, harder than ever. Her heels locked around his waist, trapping him against her, though he felt he could never leave. Their mouths met in a nibbling kiss, their tongues lazy and sweet.

“I love you, Evangeline,” he said into her eyes. And into his head came her reply.

Will, I’ve got to confess. I wanted you since the first time I saw you walk into that club with my sister.

A smile spread over his features, and his heart eased, knowing their bond began before the ‘Calling’. He wrapped her in his arms and tucked her head beneath his chin. “Me too,” he said, and felt her smile against his flesh.