Soul Stealer (16 page)

When Anael’s eyes flickered open in surprise, the man was looking down at her, but it wasn’t Onis. His eyes weren’t green, they were lilac, and his hair was a wild and varied selection of browns, wavy and framing his face perfectly.

That was when she woke and hadn’t been able to sleep again. The desperation she felt in her lower extremities would not be ignored. With one very careful hand she touched herself where she ached, the sensation so immediate she’d groaned aloud. Then she stopped, embarrassed and ashamed.

Now her cheeks colored just at the thought. She didn’t like hiding things. She needed to prove things to herself immediately. She didn’t lust for Voro at all, she truly didn’t believe it. Well, not entirely anyway. 

Maybe a little.

She scrubbed her face with both hands. If she were to really be faced with the act of giving her body to him, she knew very well that she would hate it. This urge was nothing, certainly not an awakening of lust that she’d kept hidden all this time.

So she had to prove it to herself.

The thought made her sick to her stomach, but the more she thought on it the more it seemed like a good idea.

Anael would test herself. She opened the door and went in search of the Sin Eater.

As Patrice Jenkins closed her locker, her heart felt light and her stomach fluttered with happy anticipation.
He’s coming home with me,
her head kept singing at her. Not a word from her sense of self-preservation. No worry about the fact that a very large and obviously strong strange adult male was going to be in her home alone with her. Nope, just overjoyed exaltation.

She’d managed to stay away from him for her entire shift, and now as she made her way up the stairs to his floor there was an unfounded lightness in her step.

She hadn’t slept the day before, and it wasn’t because she was worried about more people breaking into her apartment. Now she had word the police had taken down the tape, the locksmith and carpenter had fixed her locks and doorjamb respectably, and the only thing keeping her on her feet at the moment was unbridled expectation.

About a million times worse than a kid on Christmas Eve.

As she knocked on his door Patrice made a strong effort to wipe the smile off her face as she waited. She tried her best to appear cool …

He opened the door, wearing only the bottoms the hospital had given him. The clothes they had found him in were on his bed, laundered.

Only hospital bottoms.

Patrice peeled her eyes off that golden, flawless stomach and chest, making herself look up at him with that perfect face as she swallowed hard.

What the hell was she just thinking again?

“Hi, Patrice,” he said warmly, motioning her in to the room. “I’m sorry I’m taking so long to get ready. Doctor Aubericus has invited me to supper at his place tonight as well – I am to ask you to accompany me.”

Her disappointment panged, but was she really expecting a lot of naked and naughty with someone this far out of her league? “Really? That was nice of him. When does he want us there?”

“Seven o’clock.”

She tried her best not to stare at his back as he pulled the clean T-shirt on. Those muscles slid around and shifted lithely, and she wondered what they’d feel like under her hands. Or her nails.

He turned back and she dropped her eyes then realized he had stopped with his hands on the drawstring of his pants. He looked at her then, frowning slightly.

“I’m sorry,” she said, distracted and flushed as she turned to give him some privacy. She heard the fabric moving around, and after a moment she had to steal a glance over her shoulder.

He was facing away from her, just pulling the jeans up over his bare ass. Another piece of perfect anatomy, hidden away under distressed denim.

She turned quickly before he could catch her looking. Her heart was beating like a meth-addict drummer and she was all too aware of the blush in her cheeks. Patrice cursed herself for betraying his trust like that. But if he never knew …

“Okay. I’m ready.”

He was pulling on his leather coat now, hands raised high to pull the sleeves along his arms, the shirt popping up over his waistband, showing the tight skin of that stomach. He was smiling, too.

“I can’t thank you enough for inviting me to your home. It’s so kind of you.”

You can make it up to me.
She shook her head, then made for the door. “It’s nothing. I’m glad to be of help.”

“I’m starving. Do you think we could pick something up?”

“We can go by the grocery store if you like.”

“I was thinking McDonald’s.”

She turned on him incredulously. “There is no way you eat McDonald’s.”

He stopped mid-stride, concerned. “Why?”

“Not looking the way you do.” It flew between her lips before she could stop it.

He pondered, then nodded. “Yeah. I probably should avoid that for the time being.”

“No, it’s fine.” Jesus, now she felt like a bitch. “If you want McDonald’s we can do that.”

“Can we get … pineapples?”

Patrice had to give herself time to blink a couple times. “Yeah, we can get pineapples.”

“I’ve always wanted to try one.”

“You’ve never had pineapple?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

Patrice had to smile at how
earnest
he seemed. He was walking and talking sex appeal; his innocence was so surprising.

“Then we’ll get pineapple. And strawberries. And apples.”

His smile broadened and Patrice realized she hadn’t seen the full show of beauty from him until right then. That happiness was stunning and awe-inspiring.

“Then lead the way, Patrice. I can’t wait.”

Charles Goodwin was in the loveliest place he’d ever seen. The grass was thick and green under his feet, the air perfumed by the multitude of flowers bordering this tranquil spot.

He lay on his back in the grass, sun on his face, smiling.

There was such peace here; peace he’d never known before in his whole life. The wind that moved his hair gently was as warm as a caring touch, and the sun on his face was cleansing and serene all at once.

He never wanted to leave.

He must have dozed off because the next thing he was aware of that his face had cooled, like a shadow crossing into his sunbeam. He opened one eye to see if he was alone still, but when that eye opened there was only darkness.

He couldn’t smell the flowers anymore. The grass was gone, too. He was lying on a mattress that was far from soft, coated in cracked plastic. But he still couldn’t see …

The first flare of panic lit off an upward struggle in his body, but he couldn’t move. He was restrained again.

Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.

The first tear rolled down his face and he squeezed his eyes shut tighter, willing himself to wake. Surely this was the dream, the meadow was real life. He couldn’t be hearing that voice …

How have you been, my good friend?

He shook his head back and forth, not wanting to hear any more.
Wake up. Wake up. Wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup …

You are awake Charlie. Don’t worry, I’ll find you and get you out of there.

Suddenly that dark presence was gone. He was alone. Not in his meadow anymore, but alone, which was better than the master coming back.

Charlie opened his eyes, angry.
He wasn’t the master,
Charlie reminded himself.
I’m the master here. No one decides for me but me.

It felt good to think it, but he was trembling head to foot on his hospital bed, his arms pulling at his restraints even as he tried to tell himself that it was just the voices in his head, there really was no master.

His voice tore free of him in a pathetic roar, and he knew he sobbed even as he let it out. It brought the men in white again, but since he was restrained they knew he couldn’t hurt them. They were surprisingly kind as they readied a shot and administered it to his vein. He watched it, his brain calm even as his body was convulsing against their strong hands.

Because his heart was beating so fast the drug’s effect washed through him like warm water, dulling the edge of his panic. His throat ached, but at least he’d stopped screaming and crying. He let his muscles relax, feeling the pain that all that fighting had caused. But slowly even that was lulled away on a tide of chemical calm.

There is no master,
another voice,
his
voice in his head was telling him. He held on to that one because it was the one he had to trust more than all the others or else he might start to do terrible, terrible things again.
The master is gone,
it reminded him.
There is no more master …

Chapter Sixteen

“Mmm,” Vinnie’s voice was low and private as he kissed her neck softly, sending another series of quivers down her spine. Her body was exhausted but that stirring rose again with the kisses he was pressing to Iola’s skin.

“You should go and get showered,” Iola said, smiling.

“This is better.”

Iola groaned as his tongue flicked along her throat, her body seeming to forget what she’d been doing for the last half-hour. She was ready again, and by the way Vinnie held her hips in place he meant business, too.

“Your dinner guests are due in half an hour and we both need to shower,” she reminded him as his mouth moved lower, teasing over her nipples, then down her stomach.

“We could shower together and still take care of this,” his hand passed between her legs and it arched her back involuntarily.

“Vinnie,” she warned, aware that it was more a growl than a reprimand.

He darted off the mattress, swept her into his arms and carried her through to the en suite washroom. He deposited her in the shower, turned to get the water blasting at the right temperature, and then he was on her again, picking her up neatly and pressing her back to the cold tiles.

Iola wrapped her legs around his waist, linked her arms around his neck and rolled her hips downward to draw him inside. He moaned against her mouth, taking over the motion as he rolled his own hips in and out roughly, fast.

Her nails bit in to his shoulders, and as she cried out softly with each thrust the sound echoed around them over the water. He didn’t need the encouragement; she just couldn’t help it when he was this aggressive.

It was quick but thorough, with Iola tumbling over the edge of another orgasm just as he reached his, both of them straining to hold on tightly as the quaking rolled through them, then stilled.

“Can I wash your hair?” he asked, mouth still on her neck.

She nodded, trying to catch her breath as they disengaged and he lowered her to her feet. She pushed her head back under the spray as he got his shampoo off the rack, then he used those strong and magnificently capable hands to work the rose-scented goop in to a lather in her hair.

“That roast smells amazing,” he said, fingers rubbing her scalp and making her arch for more.

“It’s all due to the slow cooker dear, I’m not a cook I’m afraid.”

He pulled her against him, kissing her shoulder as he said low, “You cook just fine, honey.”

She smiled as he went back to washing her hair. They soaped each other up in a fun and practical way, then rinsed off and stepped back out in to the cool bathroom. While Iola immediately headed for the hair dryer Vinnie took to toweling off like he had a layer of skin to lose. He always dried off like he was shedding.

She liked the way his lean muscles flexed under that pale skin. Like he knew she was watching he turned around, raised a leg on the closed toilet seat and started drying his legs, giving her a fantastic view of his spectacular ass.

To think she would ever consider being with anyone else was so ludicrous. He was perfectly ideal for her and she absolutely loved him. Her anxiety over what had happened with Claudia melted away right then and there. She was
home
, not trapped.

“Vinnie?”

“Hmmm?” He continued what he was doing, but she knew he was listening. He never ignored her and just made noises of agreement so it would appear otherwise.

“I … I think I’m ready to move in together.”

He turned, his brows raised in surprise as he wrapped the towel around his waist.

She rushed on, not wanting to lose her nerve. “I mean it. I want to live with you. I love you and we need every minute we can have together.”

He smiled down at her, his warm brown eyes sparkling. His hands cupped her face as his thumb stroked her cheek. “
Ego
amare
,” he whispered before kissing her on the lips with force and authority.

It wasn’t to get her all worked up again, though. When he kissed her like this it was to show her he loved her, as she was beginning to learn. Never mind that he could say
I love you
to her in about thirty languages.

She’d never get tired of that kiss, though.

“I love you too,” she whispered when he’d finished kissing her, and he wrapped her up tightly against his warm chest.

“If you want, we can still look for a place together, somewhere that’s new to both of us.”

“No,” she shook her head against him. “This is perfect. This is exactly where I want to be.”

Pineapples are divine,
Raphael thought, clamping his jaw on a square of that golden fruit, its nectar rolling down his throat. And his chin.

“You’re making a mess,” his nurse said, but she was laughing as she handed him more paper towels.

“Sorry.”

She shook her head as he wiped his chin, then he took the bowl of cut fruit over to the apartment windows to look out over the city. It was a grey day, but the whole world had a new shine to it despite the clouds.

Starting with this fruit. He couldn’t believe how good it was.

“What’s this orange one again?”

“The mango?”

“Mango, right,” he repeated, popping a piece in to his mouth. “That’s a fun word. Mango.”

“You’re sure you don’t want anything else to eat? I know hospital food is terrible.”

“Not if we’re eating at the Doc’s place. This is fine with me.”

He turned and walked back to the counter, parking it on one of the barstools. “Patrice, how old are you?”

She gave a slightly strained laughed. “I guess no one told you not to ask a woman her age?”

“I don’t see why it should matter. People are all beautiful, and their real beauty comes from the lives they’ve lived and what they do with it. You’re a nurse, you help people. That’s beautiful.”

She ducked her head down but he caught the flush in her cheeks anyway. His body responded by warming instantly, and he had to allow for a smile. He liked having that effect on her. She surely did the same thing to him.

“I’m thirty-two,” she finally said, turning away from him and putting the last of the produce in the fridge.

She seemed embarrassed. If he could have, he would have told her all about how he was actually thousands of years old himself. Thirty-two was still an infant.

She was long and thin under her uniform. As she reached across the counter to grab all the plastic grocery bags he saw how the fabric pulled around her ribs, and the soft flesh of her breasts was just hinted to before she pulled her arms back, wadding the plastic up in to one mass. Her collar bone was so delicate; he could see it tracing out under the neck of her top, dipping down in to the notch at the base of her throat. Her bones were strong, he could tell. She was strong; she had to be for her job.

The urge to run his hands down her sides, feeling that fabric smooth over her waist and hips was urgent. She turned to put the plastic bags in a sock-like thing hanging on the pantry door knob, and her backside was right there too: tight, taut, round. It would feel so good too …

He sat on his hands. It was the only thing he could do. What had they been talking about?

“I think I’m about that age, too,” he said, trying to keep any sexual strain out of his voice.

“Maybe,” she agreed, turning back and pushing up the sleeves of the top she wore under the scrubs. “Maybe a bit younger.”

They were staring at each other, and although it seemed to bother her slightly she didn’t look away. Neither did he; Raphael liked having her attention on him.

His body was kicking up a storm but he controlled himself nicely, he thought. But there must have been something on his face, because the pink flooded back in to her cheeks and her lips parted to breathe.

She’d let him touch her, he knew then. If he wanted to stand, walk over to her, put a hand on her back and draw her in for a kiss she would stand there and let him do it. He was about to leap out of that chair …

And what? Kiss her? Take her to the floor and see just how human he was now? Explain to her that yeah, he was a virgin and had no idea what the hell he was even doing?

I got amnesia and forgot how to make love.
Somehow he wasn’t sure it worked like that.

“If ah … if you want to change, go ahead. I’ll entertain myself out here. Snoop through all your things.” He allowed a smile and she seemed all too happy to return it as a break in the tension.

“Okay. Yeah, I need to wash the hospital smell off.”

She circled around the island, and he followed her somewhat by
swiveling the barstool around to watch her. She was smiling as she walked down the hallway to the rooms at the back of the condo.

His eyes strained to the windows again, and as he grabbed the bowl of fruit, climbed down and traded the barstool for the sofa, he realized he was smiling, too.

The couch sank under his weight, and he sent another square of … cantaloupe?  … down his gullet to meet its friends. It wasn’t as good as the pineapple or mango, but still pretty damn amazing.

“Shit. Shit-fuck-shit.” Claudia was muttering as she was making a mess of her papers wondering where the incident report was on that shoplifting shit from the other night. She really needed to clean up this mess

“You all right?” Vance’s voice was calm as ever as he typed away on his keyboard not even looking at his hands.

“This desk is a disaster.”

“It’s your desk.”

“I know. Shit.” She found it in the first place she checked on her second troll across the wood-veneered monstrosity they called a desk.

“You seem wound a bit tight.”

“I’m fine. I’m taking too much Advil for the headache.”

“Yeah, I think I read about that side effect.”

“Shut up.”

“I think you’re nervous.”

Her reply was a bit too fast. “I am not.”

“Yeah you are.” She ignored him. “Bauer, when’s the last time you dated something with balls?” She let that crude comment go, but then Vance threw a paper clip at her to get her attention. “Claudia! What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just hate having to clean up after myself.”

Vance leaned forward on his elbows, giving her a positively fatherly look. “You can call him and cancel, you know.”

“I know. But I’m not going to.”

“Why a guy? It’s messing up my entire perception of reality.”

She
leveled her look right at him. “You’re asking an inappropriate question of a ranking officer, Constable.”

“Fuck that. What’s really going on here?”

She looked down at her broken and chipped nails. “Why not, Vance? I’ve got no one anyway. At this point I’m just … I’m happy for the company.”

“You lost a girlfriend just a couple days ago -”

“I know. But she broke up with me first. So she wasn’t mine when it happened. Please drop it.”

“Okay. But I don’t know if the rest of the guys will let up.”

“What?” Her stomach sank. “How does anyone else know about this?”

Now it was Vance being all elusive, turning back to his computer. “I have no idea.”

On cue Constable Tomas Jameson stopped at her desk, chewing gum in an obnoxious way. “Sergeant Bauer? Any plans this evening?”

“None that involve you, Jameson.”

“Come on, now. Who is this guy? Vance, you met him, right?”

“Yeah, I did.” She was so going to kill Vance –

“Is it one of those she-dudes or something?”

“Nah, he’s a guy as far as I can tell,” Vance replied all casual.

“Fuck off, Jameson.” Claudia was not going to start laughing.

“At least tell me he’s ugly, Vance.”

Good to see they were having such a grand old time with this.

“Sorry. He’s actually kind of a dream boat.” Vance even fluttered his eyelids.

“Really?”

She snorted and that was all it took.

“Look, she’s blushing. He
must
be quite the guy.”

Another jackass joined in – she didn’t know his first name. Only knew him by the nickname Pogo. “You are aware of what’s in a guy’s pants, right Bauer? It’s not what you’re used to. You have any questions about that kind of thing you come to me.”

“Make sure he takes you to a taco place, get you comfortable.” Claudia flipped Sergeant Taylor the finger on that one, causing him to bust a gut. But at least it was razzing that she was used to.

“Is he really that good-looking, Vance?”

Vance just nodded. “I’d sleep with him.”

“All right,” Claudia exclaimed while standing up. “You can all go fuck yourselves. I have to go get ready for my date.”

That got the expected “one of the guys” responses, and she was laughing as she piled all the lose papers into one pile to be dealt with “later.” She left the office amid wolf whistles and well-wishing for a raunchy evening and chuckled all the way to her car.