Seduced by Pain (4 page)

And
that
didn't change the fact that I couldn't stop loving her, even though she was the
enemy.

So, like a
coward, I hid, unable to unify my conflicted heart into the right choice. Walk
away, or risk it all for her?

I picked up
the book Tammy had left open and began reading where she'd left off. The words
didn't register with any meaning, not to me or, likely, to Dean, but I hoped
the cadence of my voice would sooth us both.

My mother
opened the door and came to stand beside me and listen, her hand on my
shoulder.

When I paused,
she kissed the top of my head, like she used to do when we were children. "You've
always had such a beautiful voice. It's nice to hear you reading Shakespeare
again. You give his words so much inflection and depth."

I hadn't even
realized what I'd been reading until she mentioned it, so lost was I in my own
head.

Tammy, too,
joined us, noticing the book in my hand. "It was his favorite. Is. Is his
favorite," she corrected, pain flashing across her face. "He likes
that the fairies don't make it easy for the humans, but that in the end all is made
right."

I turned it
over to check the title.
A Midsummer's Night Dream
. So much
miscommunication and confusion that could have been avoided if people had only
sat down and talked it through, a running theme in many of Shakespeare's plays.

The parallel
was not lost on me, but it didn't make my decision any easier.

I could do
nothing until I had Dean back. While he lay frozen in himself, so too did I.

Once again,
eyes closed, I reached for him, feeling my way through the thick mud that
locked him away from us. I'd never been the strongest meditator, but my Druid
nature and shifting powers had always given me an extra boost, allowing me to
connect with others in our pack. But so far, they hadn't helped me, or anyone,
to reach Dean. His mind and soul stayed closed to us. Hidden. Or gone.

I pulled back
and felt a lashing out of consciousness grab hold of me, flooding my mind with barely
formed memories and images. In a fraction of a second, everything went black
before I could make sense of it, like a dream I knew I'd had, but couldn't
remember.

Love can transpose to form and dignity.

—William
Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

AS DAWN TORE
the night from the world in brilliant
shards of oranges and yellows, I did the job expected of me and surveyed the
land. In the prison from which I'd been temporarily freed, darkness reigned
supreme and constant. We had no sun, no life, no warmth. We lived in the human
version of hell, for all intents and purposes, though our condemnation was
through no fault of mine. I'd been born there, raised by a society that had
become more and more greedy for pain and agony, a vicious cycle begun by those
who had cast us aside, and fed by the world they'd made for us.

What humans
took for granted on their world, and in their bodies, I exalted in and squeezed
every drop of joy from.

I may have
been an incubus, feeding on the lust of women as I fucked them, but I knew how
to also take in another kind of nourishment from life around me, which was more
than I could say for most humans.

After I fixed
a broken fence and trimmed a tree that had been damaged from the wind the night
before, I locked up the tool shed and considered what I might do next.

I hadn't seen
Rose since the time I'd caught them snooping in Rainbow's room, but her scent
hadn't given me a moment's peace since.

I also
wondered, in a more idle way, what they'd discovered, and what they were
looking for. Deciding to show initiative, particularly as my hunger to feed
grew, I walked down the dirt path toward her cottage.

Her rain
gutters needed cleaning and the garden in her yard could use some tending. I
made a mental note to come by later with supplies to spruce the place up. For
now, I wanted to talk.

Before I could
knock on her door, she shoved it open with her foot, while carrying a large
kennel.

I rummaged
through my host's memories for why she had a kennel but no dog and found the
answer. Hers had died, and she'd loved it deeply. Her dog's puppies had been
the sacrifice needed to bring me to this plane.

As I looked at
her red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked face, a new emotion slithered like a
snake through my heart: guilt.

I'd never felt
guilty. Never had a reason to. But now, some combination of awakened empathy
and lingering desire alchemized to generate a more human response than I'd ever
felt before.

Because of me,
this beautiful young woman was in pain, and I wanted to make that pain stop.

I reached to
help her with the crate, and she surprised me by pulling back and scowling. "I
can do it, but thanks."

She didn't
like me, and yet, she didn't know who I really was, so that meant she didn't
like Blake. But he had one hell of a hard-on for her. Interesting.

"I'd like
to help. It looks heavy." This time I didn't force my assistance upon her,
but waited for her to accept.

The kennel
fell to the ground, and she suppressed a sob. "Okay. Thank you."

I lifted it
easily and waited for her to get the dog bed and bowl. "Where are we
taking this?"

Her hazel eyes
met mine, and I could feel the grief in them. "To the trash. It's time to
say goodbye and accept that she's gone."

Her words seemed
loaded with a double meaning I couldn't decipher, but I didn't press. Instead,
I walked beside her, holding our silence like fragile spun glass in danger of breaking,
and gave her the space to process her pain.

The metal of
the kennel clanged loudly when it hit the bottom of the trash bin, shattering
the moment. She tossed the bed and bowl in after, then turned and walked away.

I followed her
back, not yet ready to say goodbye when we'd barely said hello.

She paused at
her door, opened her mouth to speak, and closed it again.

"Why don't
you like me?" Might as well be direct.

She shifted on
her feet, uncomfortable with the question, clearly. "Honestly? You're a bit
creepy, the way you stare at me all the time. And you lack a backbone. You let
Mother walk all over you like a spineless jellyfish. It's not attractive. And
you really suck at the nuances of communication."

Her hand shot
up and covered her mouth. "I'm sorry, that was rude. I mean, it's true,
that's how I feel, but I should have been more… diplomatic. I had a rough day
yesterday, and today I decided to clean out the cottage and remove Sandy's
stuff, and it feels like losing her all over again."

I reached for
her hand and ran my fingers over her smooth skin. In the back of my mind, I
knew this was significant. She feared touch, and others feared her, even the
dipshit whose body I had taken over.

Her eyes
widened, and she tried to pull back, but this time I didn't let her call the
shots. "I'm sorry that I've behaved badly in the past. Rest assured I'm
not the man I was," to say the least. "I hope you'll give me a second
chance to prove that I can be more than a mindless, spineless lapdog for your
mother. Believe me, those days are over."

Her hand
relaxed in mine, eyes wide in shock. I used her reaction to my advantage and
stepped closer, letting pheromones do their job. "And Rose, I'm not scared
of your touch, or you. You're brave and beautiful and incredibly smart, and I
was a damn fool to treat you as I have."

With our
bodies inches apart, I had to resist the temptation to lean down and taste her
lips, so soft and pink. There was an art to seduction, a timing that couldn't
be rushed.

Her body
relaxed, our hands still touching, and she almost smiled, or at least stopped
frowning so aggressively. "That's a surprising response from you. I must
admit, I'm impressed. Everyone deserves a second chance, so consider this
yours. And thank you for your help today, Blake. You made a difficult task
lighter."

Unable to
resist a moment more, I leaned in and gently kissed her forehead.

Her arousal
and need flooded my senses, and I could have taken her then and there, but she
would hate me, and herself, if I did. I would wait and let that heat build
before stoking her fire.

The foreplay
of seduction was, after all, the best part.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,


And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

—William
Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

BY THE TIME
Ocean returned home from the store, I'd
completely rearranged the cottage. I told myself it was to fill the emptiness
left by Sandy's missing belongings, and that was partly true. I couldn't bear
to see those spots so barren, where only her ghostly memory lingered. Now, a
love seat sat where once she did.

But it wasn't
the only reason I had to stay busy. Blake's presence disturbed me, and not in
the way it usually did. If I'd only ever seen a picture of him, I would have
thought he was seriously hot—any woman would—but because I knew him
for so long, his ick factor negated the surface sexiness.

Until today.

Something
profound had changed in him. Like a magnet flipped around, instead of repulsing
me, he pulled me in. I hated to admit this, even to myself, but I was actually,
oh God… attracted to him.

Even thinking
it made me feel disloyal to Derek, which made no sense since we were officially
over and he wouldn't even speak to me.

But that was
beside the point. This was Blake. How had he turned all sexy and charming and
considerate and soulful overnight? That wasn't possible.

Ocean walked
in carrying bags of groceries and stopped in her tracks. "We're
redecorating?"

Her eyes
landed on the spot Sandy had once claimed. "Ah, I see." She put down
the bags and hugged me. "I'm proud of you. But I would've helped, if you'd
waited."

We unloaded
the food together as we talked. "I needed to do it alone, but funny thing,
I ended up getting help from Blake."

I watched Ocean
close for a reaction, and her cheeks turned red. I pointed at her. "Ah-ha!
You noticed it too! What the hell is up with him?"

She held a
cold bottle of water to her chest and fanned herself. "I don't know, but I
would so do him. He practically drips sex. It's like he finally hit puberty or
something."

I threw the
bag of cotton balls at her and laughed. "Well, you can have him. I have
enough man problems without adding him to the equation."

"So, you're
not interested at all? You know, it might not be a bad idea to give Derek some
competition. Move on with your life. Date someone else. Let him see that you're
not going to sit alone pining for him until you start collecting cats and
china."