The Calling (16 page)

When his lips had touched every inch of her mastectomy scar, she finally got the nerve to look at him. He peered up at her, but he didn’t speak until she solidly held his gaze. “The scars don’t make you any less beautiful.”

Seeming to sense she’d had enough, he straightened. She buried her head in his chest, gasping for breaths between cries. She didn’t know how to feel—horrified that he’d seen her naked, or joyous that she didn’t need to hide from him any longer.

Justin bent down and found her lips. Even through her gasps for breaths, he kissed her long and hard. She clung to him, digging her blunt nails into his back, terrified that he'd change his mind at any minute, as Ty had. And then she’d be as scarred on the inside as on the outside.

He brushed his hand down her arm, forcing her death grip to ease from his back. His palm cupped her knuckles, then he threaded his fingers through hers, keeping her hand open. Slowly, he led her lower, to the proof of his desire. She forgot her insecurity when he pressed her palm onto his thick length.

His shaft jerked when she touched it. Oh, God, his penis was rock hard and throbbing as if it had a heartbeat of its own.

“Does this prove how much I want you?” he whispered, pressing her hand firmly against him.

She stopped breathing as her deepest, darkest fear swept by, unrealized. He’d seen her naked, and it hadn’t changed a thing.
He still wants me
. The sudden release of her most poignant insecurity sent her body into a hot, needy overdrive.

Even as tears continued to tumble down her cheeks, she stroked his soft skin. Longing consumed her, sending her fear down the drain where it belonged. She threw her head back, allowing her hunger to take control, and rolled her hips forward.

Justin seemed to need no further invitation. With a forceful thrust, he pressed her into the cool tile, his corded muscles moving against her, trapping her, and spreading her legs wide. His girth cleaved her, making her gasp. She forced her fingers into the flesh of his back. With every rock of his hips, she moaned, louder and louder, as he penetrated her, inching deeper.

Water sluiced over their joined bodies, warming her to boiling. When he filled her to brimming, he slid back, then thrust forward. His mouth pressed against hers, his tongue mimicking the motions of his thick shaft.

Quickly, he built momentum, moving faster and faster. With the speed of a piston, he drove into her, his neck muscles strained, his jaw clenched. She gave herself over to an orgasm that shook her core, shattering her into a million glistening pieces at the same time as Justin. Together they shouted, buried themselves in each other, and became one body engulfed in rapture.

As the last tremors shook her shoulders, she laid her head in the crook of Justin’s neck, satiated and exhausted. The quiet, save for the beating of their hearts, was blessed, a healing moment after her year of turmoil.

She was his. Fully and wholly, she belonged to him. When he pulled back, his cheeks flushed beneath his golden skin, she knew that he belonged to her as well. The devotion in his eyes was nothing short of breathtaking.

Chapter 10

Justin lay in a bed of tangled sheets, his body curled around a sleeping Mandy. The air was still thick with the scent of their lovemaking, and the evening replayed in his mind over and over again. She was better than anything he’d imagined—the softness of her skin, the taste of her sex, the way she squeezed her eyes shut when she climaxed—each scene played out in glorious detail, the colors vibrant and alive.

He stroked the silky skin of her inner arm and watched her breathe softly, her bare chest rising and falling.
Perfect
. She was absolutely exquisite, his fantasy come to life.

His length hardened as he imagined exploring her from behind, the tip of his desire nudging her open. What he wouldn’t give to wrap his arm behind her knee and spread her wide, to see and taste her glistening core again. But she slept so peacefully, he couldn’t bear to disturb her for his own pleasure. After three rounds, she needed a rest.

Instead, he nestled into the arch of her back and clung to her, afraid she’d be gone when he woke. If he were honest with himself, he was afraid it was all too good to be real, and so he wanted to hold onto the night as long as possible, lying awake and memorizing her.

Eventually, exhaustion took over, his eyes closed, and he drifted into sleep.

In his dream, he was ten again, lying in his childhood bedroom, staring through the blinds at the moon hanging just above a neighbor’s roof. A ray of light cast a silver finger across his comforter. He stared at it, feeling a pulse of energy course down his spine to his toes. Though the tremor didn’t hurt, his bed shook from the surge. The little sliver of light bounced up and down before stilling as the vibration dissipated.

Justin groaned. He’d stayed home from school because of a stomach flu. The strange vibrations were just a symptom of his sickness, he told himself. Though in the corner of his mind, he was beginning to have doubts that the flu would make him quake so hard.

His stomach twisted with fear. What if something was really wrong with him? No, he’d be fine. He just needed some sleep. When he awoke in the morning, everything would be normal again, the tremors a distant memory.

His little pep talk did nothing to calm him. He clutched his comforter and did the only thing he could think of to ease him through his sickness. He recited the prayer his mom had taught him when he was a preschooler and spoke the same words he’d said each night before his mom tucked him beneath his covers.

“
Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. May God guard me through the night and wake me with the morning light. Amen.”

Before he’d finished the prayer, another pulse shook his body. During the vibration, something gnawed at his consciousness, a perpetual clawing beast trying to break free.

An image of his dad filled his mind, the words his father had spoken only weeks before echoing in his ears, “You’ll know when the ocean is calling you and your sister. Obey or die.”

A realization hung on the verge of discovery. He whispered, “Obey or die,” as if there were a connection between his father’s words and the fits of energy that had tormented him all day and into the night.

Another pulse racked his body, more demanding than any before, and the epiphany hit him like a bag of sand. “Obey or die!” Hadn’t his dad gone over the symptoms time and time again? He groaned with disgust. How could he be so stupid not to recognize the Calling?

Cecelia. His baby sister. He had to get them both to the ocean—now!

Justin jumped out of bed, the covers falling onto the floor in a puddle, and tore down the hall. “Mom! “Mom!”

When had the Calling begun? His dad had said he had twenty-four hours once the vibrations started. Since the pulses had begun last night, time was running out. He couldn’t let his father down, when he’d been entrusted with this task. It was the only reason his dad had agreed to go out to sea while Cecelia was so young.

“
Mom!” He grabbed his coat and shoved his hands through the sleeves. After sliding on his sneakers, he raced to the linen closet and grabbed a thick blanket. He darted into his parents’ room and laid the blanket on the bed.

His mom slept hard, snoring with each breath. He reached into the bassinet, slid his hands beneath his tiny sister’s body, careful to cradle her head as his mom had taught him, and placed her on the blanket. “We have a roll call to attend,” he whispered to Cecelia. She didn’t stir.

As he wrapped her in the thick wool, another surge hit him so hard his gut clenched. Obey or die. The words echoed in his head. He and Cecelia would be dead in an hour, maybe sooner, if he didn’t hurry. As if proving his point, Cecelia’s body shook with the same energy as his. She whimpered through the worst of it, her eyes fluttering open. When it passed, her eyes shut, and she fell back into a peaceful slumber.

Justin looked at his mom. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically, and drool pooled at the corner of her pillow. She was sleeping so soundly, he might have Cecelia home before she was missed.

He nestled her sleeping cap tight on her head, and headed for the entryway. When he opened the door, a cool gust of wind blew through the hall. He curled Cecelia into his body, trying to protect her face from the chilled air, but he reacted too late. Her little mouth formed an “o” shape, and she pushed her face into the blanket. As soon as he walked outside, she began to wail.

“
Shhh,” he whispered into her ear.

A surge shook their bodies at the same time. The energy ripped at his insides, tearing and searing his organs. The vibration, merely annoying ten minutes ago, now made him gasp in pain. Cecelia’s cries reached a hysterical pitch.

The Calling was almost over, and he and Cecelia hadn’t been counted. If he failed, he could never face his father again. His gut wrenched from the realization that he wouldn’t have to face his father if he failed. Dead. The word rang in his ears like an impossible consequence.

With terror eating at his heels, Justin took off running down the street, the only sounds his breathing and Cecelia’s tortured cries. Just as he rounded the corner at the first intersection, he heard his mother’s voice pierce the gusty night. “Justin!”

He ran faster, determined not to stop. As his mother screamed for him to come back, lights flicked on, illuminating the windows of the darkened houses lining the road. If his mother didn’t catch him, a neighbor would. He picked up his pace until his thighs screamed.

The next intersection loomed ahead. Across the road, the beach stretched out on all sides. They were so close. He scanned for traffic without slowing. The streets were clear. His sneakers pounded the hard concrete to the other side. “We’re gonna make it, Cecelia.”

He raced along the sidewalk, looking for stairs leading down the seawall to the beach. A deep rumbling noise, like the sound of an engine, cut through Cecelia’s screams, and he peered over his shoulder. His mother’s beat-up Buick screeched to a stop next to the sidewalk. She jumped out of the car wearing nothing but a billowy long-sleeved nightgown. “Justin! Get back here!”

Justin shook his head and ran to the nearest set of stairs. He leapt down the steps and onto the beach, his shoes digging into the sand as he sprinted toward the crashing waves. Only ten feet from the safety of the ocean, a surge of energy clenched his muscles. As Cecelia’s screams raised another octave, Justin’s legs collapsed beneath him. He landed on his knees, Cecelia still clutched in his arms. His stomach lurched. The pain from the rush of energy ripped at his gut.

‘
Get to the water,’ his mind screamed. On trembling legs, he rose and took a step forward. The weight of his task bore down on him, the word death filling his ears. So unfair, he thought, as he willed his feet onward. The rest of the world slept, while he and his sister fought for their lives.

“
Justin!” his mother screamed. “Stop!”

“
I can’t, Mom,” he whispered in a shaky voice. “We haven’t been counted.” Taking a deep breath, he staggered toward the ocean.

His mother barreled down the steps and, with outstretched arms, raced toward him. She grabbed Cecelia roughly, jostling her from Justin’s hold. Cecelia screamed in protest, the sound an earsplitting cry over the din of the surf.

“
No!” Justin yelled. “You don’t understand!” He reached for his sister but, as if he’d been lassoed by the sea, an invisible rope flung him into the water. He plunged into a cold, shallow wave as it washed onto shore.

Relief! Sweet, glorious relief!

The waves of energy that had racked his body all day, the uneasy feeling, the desperation as the day wore on, all disappeared. He was going to live!

Exhilarated and free, Justin dove under the next wave. When his feet touched the sandy bottom, he pushed off and popped to the surface. The moon shone bright, illuminating the swath of beach between two great piers. Toward the pier farthest away, he saw an old woman in a robe clutching a cane and limping to the water’s edge. Her back was crooked, and her legs bent so that each step seemed a fight to stay steady.

The waves crashed higher and higher on the ancient woman’s body while she made her way into the ocean, until the water covered her chest. She turned back and smiled at him, then she disappeared beneath a wave. Was she one of them?

The spell the woman had cast came crashing down as Cecelia’s screams and his mother’s irate voice jerked him to reality.

“
This is your father’s fault!” his mother yelled. “He’s put delusional ideas in your head! I knew I should’ve divorced that man when he started talking about gods. The church would’ve understood.” She raised a clenched fist. “Tonight, I’ll pray for your soul, son. But you will not drag Cecelia into your pagan rituals.”