Falling for Grace (Four Winds) (18 page)

Chapter
Nineteen

Grace had gotten a ride to the island with Nicole, who was working the dinner shift.  Grace was sick of the hotel room, packed to the gills with salvaged belongings.  They had asked housekeeping to not come in everyday, as there was too much junk in there for the maids to be effective.  Besides, they didn't see the point in having someone come in and clean up after them every day.  It wasn't like they were on vacation or anything.  They just stopped by the cart occasionally for clean bedding and towels.

Grace was sitting on the Sea Wall, on a bench that overlooked the Gulf waters.  She had to remind herself that she wasn't on duty, to stop scanning the waters and counting swimmers.  She was there to enjoy the view, for once.

She could still feel the wind whipping her hair around, and feel the blistering heat.  She kept her feet underneath her, so that the people riding by in the surrey bikes didn't run over outstretched legs.  Even in the off-season, those things were everywhere.  She watched a family pedal by, the father doing most of the work, while the kids squealed with delight in the backseat and the mother looked bored beyond belief. 

A presence next to her startled Grace out of her people-watching.  She turned to see Damien sitting there, silently watching her.  The epic, underwater battle seemed like a faraway dream to her, and she managed a meek smile, unsure if it had been real or not.

"Grace."  He acknowledged her with a smirk.

"Hey."  She really wasn't sure what to say to him. 
Did you really try to pull me into some underwater lair?  Or did I imagine that?

"You busy for dinner?"  He asked her pleasantly.

"Um…yeah.  I have plans with my roommates."  She was totally lying, but he didn't need to know that.

"You're lying to me."  Okay, that didn't work.  "But that's okay.  I'm used to it."  His hand reached towards her arm, and his finger stroked it, sending chilly goosebumps over her.  A wave of nausea gripped her stomach and she pulled away.  "You're a good girl.  I know that.  Good girls don't really get me."  She met his intense black eyes with her cool blue ones.  "Just know that I won't give up that easily, Grace.  I'm going to pursue you, until you're mine."  He let loose with a cackling laugh before melting away right in front of her.

Blinking rapidly, Grace decided to get out of the heat.  She was truly losing it.  She crossed the street and went inside a restaurant to get a cold drink and cool off.  It didn't make any sense.  She spent all day in the sun for a living, why was the heat getting to her today?

She sat at the table in the air conditioning and drank her soda, waiting for the effects of Damien's sudden disappearance to wear off.  Her mind's vision went green and a voice came to her.

"You're not crazy, Grace.  These things are happening to you.  Talk to me, Grace."  It was Rafe's voice, and she realized that it had been Rafe's voice all along.  Rafe's voice accompanied the green haze during her saves.  Was that why he had seemed so familiar when they'd first met?  Grace saw two scenarios to the situation.  One, she was losing it.  The stress of her job, the hurricane, and house-hunting, compounded with her confusion over her emotions about Rafe, and his admission of archangelness was causing some sort of break-down.  Or two, it was all true.

That revelation caused her to call the waitress back over so she could order a basket of French fries covered with chili and cheese.  Comfort food.

What was happening to her?  Why was Rafe's voice inside her head?  Had it been his voice the whole time?  She wracked her brain, trying to remember details of the other experiences with the green light in her mind.  Until Rafe had moved in with them, the green had only happened when she'd been working a save.  She just couldn't be sure.

This crazy man had worked his way completely under her skin, and she was beginning to doubt her own sanity.

She was overwhelmed suddenly with images of Rafe, sensations of his touch on her skin.  His kisses.  She lowered her head into her hands and groaned aloud, earning herself amused looks from neighboring tables.

Grace couldn't get him out of her head. 

"I'm not leaving."

The voice again.  Jeez, she was imagining him inside her head, his voice inside her head.

"You're not crazy."  His voice was soft, reassuring.  "And neither am I."

She made a conscious decision to talk back to him, being careful to keep it in her head.  Grace didn't need any more looks from restaurant patrons.  "Yes, you are.  And I am, too.  I'm talking to you, aren't I?"  Her “inside the head” voice was a whisper, as if she didn't even want herself to hear.

His chuckle in her head made her warm all over.  "Call me, Grace.  I can explain some of this."

"Why do I need to call you?  Apparently, we can talk this way."

"Because you don't believe this is really happening."

"You're right.  I'm deluded."  Apparently, this part came out aloud, because the waitress had just arrived with her chili-cheese fries and gave her a strange look.

"You okay, hon?"  Grace nodded, before digging into her greasy comfort food.

"Are you?"  The voice inside her head was persistent, and pissing her off.

"No.  I'm not.  I'm seeing things.  I'm talking to myself.  The only guy I can't stop thinking about is insane, I've effectively lost my job.  I'm living in a hotel room.  No I'm not okay!"  She mentally screamed it at her imaginary Rafe voice.

"I'm coming to you."

"NO!"

"Fine, then."  He sounded hurt, and Grace felt guilty for hurting her imaginary friend's feelings.

"Just leave me alone."

"No."  The voice inside her head was resolute.  "I can make you want me."

Suddenly, Grace felt warm and she could feel the flush rise up her cheeks.  She already wanted him.  That was part of the problem.  Rafe chuckled inside her head.  Suddenly, an intense pressure registered between her legs, and she crossed them.  Her stomach sank.  He could get inside her head, but could he do this?

"Yes.  I can."  She wasn't aware that she had consciously asked the question, but she couldn't squeeze her legs together hard enough to relieve the pressure, so she shifted in her seat, looking around to see if anybody was watching her.

Her breasts felt fuller suddenly, and her nipples were tingly and erect.  She could feel the blood flow to her nether regions, and she sat up straight, arching her back to press down on the seat.

"Would you stop?"  She hissed inside her head. 

"Shh…I'm concentrating."  She could almost feel his hands on her body, sending shivers of delight across her skin.  Grace couldn't stop squirming in her seat, feeling the invisible pressure build at the apex of her thighs.  She tried to squirm and press the seam of her shorts against herself, but it was only making the sensations worse.  She looked around again, to make sure nobody was looking before pressing her hand against her sex, under the table.  Another chuckle from inside her head.

Her mouth was dry, and she tried to swallow past the lump in her throat, but she couldn't.  Her breath was coming in gasps, and she willed herself to not succumb to the desire that was filling her body.  Keeping her body still and afraid to breathe, Grace pressed her hand against the crotch of her shorts, willing whatever was coming to come.  Just do it quietly.

The pressure was so intense she could barely breathe, and she could feel waves of heat crashing through her body.  "Come on, Rafe…Just do it…Please."  Her voice inside her head was a desperate plea.  Nothing had ever made her feel this before.  Not even herself.

“Really?”  The voice in her head sounded smug.

“Do it or stop messing with me.  Please…”  She had crossed her legs, then wrapped her foot around her calf, squeezing furiously, hand on her crotch pressing to relieve pressure.  She was almost out of her mind.

“I’m coming to you.  I need you to be thinking of me this way.  We could be so good together.”

His voice inside her head was picking at her seams, unravelling her with its husky depth.  And then it was gone, leaving her aching with need.

She choked down her fries in blessed silence, more confused than ever.

Grace had never been so sexually frustrated in her life as she was when she left the restaurant, her belly full of fries, her mind blessedly empty.  She had no idea where to go, or what to do with herself, now that she didn’t have a job, a home, and her friends were at work.  She stood there, blinking into the sunlight, wondering what was next when a voice at her elbow startled her.

“Hey, Grace.”

It was Damien, and Grace didn’t know what was real anymore.  The man standing there was wearing different clothes from the Damien she’d met earlier in the day.  Now he had on a pair of surf short and a tee shirt, looking casual, yet somehow very put together, with his designer sunglasses and impeccable hair.

“Hey?”

“You busy?  You want to go grab some lunch or something?”

So earlier must have been a hallucination.  She’d already told him no once today.  She thought.

“I just ate.  Sorry.”  She gestured to the place she’d just come out of, and his face fell.  Her core still ached, and she couldn’t stop herself from looking at his lips, wondering how they would help relieve some of the pressure that was pent up inside her.

He smirked at her.  “Dinner?  We could go out, or you could come to my place and let me cook for you?”

She couldn’t explain what came over her at that moment, except she was horny and he was being sweet.  She nodded.  “Sure.  Your place sounds fine.”

His face lit up in a smile that Grace thought was attractive, if a little predatory.  She ignored the sudden chill she felt and agreed to meet him at the ferry landing.

“I’m so glad you finally agreed.  I take it you don’t have other men around at the moment?”

“Um…no.  Not really.”

“Not for long, anyway.  I imagine you’ve always got a hound dog or two sniffing around.”

“Yeah, well…”

“I’m flattered.  See you tonight.”  His hand brushed her shoulder, and his flesh was refreshingly cool in the heat of the day.

She watched as he turned and walked away, not disappearing, or melting away.  He just walked like a normal person.

Grace was losing her mind.

Chapter
Twenty

That night, Grace found herself in Bree's car on her way
to Damien’s, not sure what to expect, realizing she was open to just about anything.

She had worked herself nearly into a frenzy with anticipation of the unknown.  Grace had no idea what to expect with Damien, but she was eager to find out.  She had to do something to get Rafe out of her head, and this seemed like the most promising way to go about it.  Nothing else had worked.

He lived on Bolivar Peninsula, which was a twenty minute ferry ride on the other side of Galveston.  So including the drive from her hotel, she had plenty of time traveling to get nervous.

She had parked her car on Galveston and walked onto the ferry, hoping Damien would keep his word and meet her there.  Sure enough, as the ferry pulled into place, Damien’s dark head could be seen waiting in the parking lot next to a shiny black Hummer.

As she walked off the boat, she watched him stride over to her and let herself be pulled into a hug.  Damien’s arms around her were different from Rafe’s.  She didn’t feel the warm reverence from Damien, only a visceral need in his touch that she responded to, willingly.  She turned her face up to his to smile and say something, but before she could say anything, he lowered his mouth to hers and took her lips in a kiss which promised such carnal delights her toes curled up in her strappy little sandals.  His hands roamed down to her backside, pulling her body against his, and Grace gasped at his audacity.

Then she pushed herself against him.

Damien pulled away just a little, but continued holding her.  “I’m so glad you finally agreed to come.  I have a lovely meal planned.”  He squeezed her hips before taking her hand and leading her back to his Hummer.

His house was beautiful, stunning in its immensity as well as the stark contrast to the hurricane’s destruction.  All around, Grace could see debris bulldozed into piles, vacant foundations, and raised piers without houses atop them.  In the middle of the destruction was a massive white beach house with wrap around balconies and windows everywhere.  Grace was stunned.

“You didn’t have any damage?”

Damien shook his head, his face a mask of smug satisfaction.  “Nope.  Not a crack.”

“Count your blessings.”

“I don’t need to.  I am who I am, and have nobody else to thank for that.”  His odd comment left her speechless as he led her towards her house.

When they got inside, Grace sniffed.  “Something smells good.”  She’d forgotten what Damien smelled like, smoke, until she got inside his house and smelled him everywhere.  It was a little off-putting, but she tried not to think about it too much. People couldn’t really help their body odor, and maybe he just had a weird choice in cologne.

She walked behind Damien towards the side of the house that faced the beach.

“What a spectacular view!  I could just sit here and watch the water all day long.” Grace turned to see Damien watching her, an indecipherable expression on his face.

“I think Carmen left everything warm, we should go ahead and eat while it’s still hot.”  Damien continued leading her to the kitchen, where the table was set.  As Damien pulled dishes out of the oven and brought them to the table, Grace sniffed. 

“It smells wonderful.” 

“Carmen’s been with me a while.  She’s a superb cook.”  He lifted a lid.  “And it looks like she’s having a Chinese night.  I hope you like it.”  The last dish held utensils, fancy lacquered chopsticks that made Grace laugh.

“I can’t use chopsticks.” 

He shrugged.  “No worries.  I can feed you.”

“I can’t use a fork?”

His eyes grew wide with feigned shock.  “You can’t eat Chinese with a fork!  It’s unheard of!”

This playful side of Damien was nice to see.  He’s seemed so intense the first time they’d met, as well as others.  It was good to know he wasn’t always so serious.

“Okay, but if you don’t feed me what I want, I’ll find my own fork.”

“You point, I’ll feed.  It’ll be fun.”  He picked up the chair he was standing behind.  “The only problem is, I’ll have to move my chair around to that side of the table.  This is too far away.  We’re not in heaven.”

“What?”

“Old Chinese story.”  He said as he moved his chair around to where Grace was, before going back for his plate and glass.  “When you die, everyone is given a pair of chopsticks, three feet long.  When you go to Hell, you see everybody sitting at a huge table full of food, trying to eat with these ridiculously long chopsticks, but they can’t feed themselves.”  He pantomimes trying to eat without bending his elbows.  “When you go to heaven, you see everybody sitting at the same table, but they’re full and happy, because they’re feeding each other across the table with the huge chopsticks.”

He finished his story and sat down next to Grace, his eyes gleaming mischievously. 

“But you are feeding me.  So this is sort of like heaven?”  He held a tempting morsel of something stir fried out for her to taste, and she did, closing her eyes as the flavors exploded on her tongue.

When she opened her eyes, Damien was staring at her, his eyes black.  “Make no mistake Grace.  This is not Heaven.”

“Nope.  It’s Galveston.”  She giggled and then pointed to something else, opening her mouth for Damien to fill with the next taste.

As they slowly progressed through dinner, Grace found herself having an enjoyable time.  Damien was witty and smart and patiently fed her until she was full, taking bites of his own between hers. Each bite was delicious, and she showed her appreciation with flirty moans, closing her eyes to savor the flavors.

She knew dinner was a prelude to something else, and as wonderful as dinner was, she was anxious to move on.   

She’d never slept with a guy on the first date before, had never wanted to cheapen herself that way.  But Damien didn’t seem like he would be adverse to her philosophical changes. And the way he looked at her while she chewed and moaned told her he was more than willing to take this a step further tonight.

After her last bite, she leaned back in her chair, stretched her legs out and patted her stomach.  “That was sinfully delicious, Damien. Tell Carmen thanks.  Is she your housekeeper?”

“Yes, of sorts.”  His eyes took on a vague, faraway look for a second, then focused themselves back on Grace.  He took her hand and rose, guiding her up as well.  He led her out to the balcony outside the kitchen before turning to her.  “We both know you’re not just here to eat.  Why don’t we carry on to…other activities?”

He was right.  Grace hadn’t just come here to eat.  Dinner was delicious, and she enjoyed it immensely, but she needed more.  She needed something to forget that she’d lost her mind.  She needed something real.

And this tall, dark, stranger was very real.

He dipped his head and kissed her then, his smokey scent overwhelming her senses.  His kiss was real, and his tongue inside her mouth, seducing her was real.  She moaned into his mouth, and his hands went around her, grasping her backside to pull her closer.

The familiar green haze descended on her consciousness, and she inwardly rolled her eyes.  Not now.  Please, not now.

Grace?  Where are you?

She ignored Rafe’s voice inside her head, hoping that it would go away and not ruin this night.  She felt Damien’s tongue still and wondered if she had reacted some way that he noticed.

“Everything okay?”  He asked her, solicitously.

She nodded and grabbed his neck, pulling his head back for another kiss.

Are you with him?
  She froze. 
The Deceiver?  Does he have you?  Grace, you’ve got to get away from him!  I’m coming, Grace.  I’m coming.

Grace pulled away slightly, while Damien’s grip tightened.  “The Deceiver?”  She mumbled to herself, not realizing it was out loud.  At the words, Damien’s countenance changed, almost imperceptibly, but Grace noticed.

She was looking at his eyes, or she wouldn’t have seen anything.  But they flashed something that looked scaly and red, at the same time a wave of nausea gripped her stomach.

“Tell him to go away Grace.”  His voice was steely, and she was scared by the transformation.  It was subtle, but Grace was no longer turned on.  She no longer wanted to spend the night with Damien.  She wanted to leave.  “Come with me, Grace.  I can make your every desire come true.  I can show you pleasures you never imagined.  Just choose me.”  His eyes pleaded with hers, but underneath the supplicating look was a bitterness that shone through, showing the façade for what it was.

“I-I think I need to go home.”

Sudden rage filled Damien’s features, and the air around him shimmered.  Grace shuddered as he transformed in front of her, his clothes shredding as he grew several feet, sprouted wings, and turned scaly, never once letting go of her.  She was in the arms of a demon.  Possibly the devil himself.  Suddenly everything Rafe had told her was true.

Grace looked down and saw that they were floating above the decking.  Enormous wings lazily flapping, holding it aloft, against an appropriate backdrop of storm clouds.  A mixture of black scales, interspersed with red ones, covered the humanoid body, and the wingspan was larger than the length of a truck.  But its eyes were what held Grace captive.  They were red and scaly, like the rest of it.  As she watched, it blinked, the lids shuttering closed sideways, and what looked like a smirk formed on its mouth before it rose in the night air.

Panic clawed at her throat, as u
nable to move, Grace found herself in its clutches.  She could feel the wind from the massive wings as they lifted her higher into the night sky, soaring above the city.  She looked down at the island, watching it grow smaller as the demon soared higher.  Finally, she screamed. 

She watched, helpless, as they left island behind, and the winged demon glided over the
Gulf of Mexico, its night-blackened waters getting farther and farther below them. 

Grace had never been one for heights.  She didn't fly in airplanes.  She didn't bungee jump.  She didn’t throw herself off tall cliffs.  Now, looking down, Grace couldn't stop the screams ripping from her throat.

Terror clutched her body, and she grabbed onto the clawed hands of her fiendish abductor with a death-grip, afraid it would let her go and she'd be dropped into the depths below.  A low, rumbling chuckle sounded in her ear.  She had to stop screaming to hear his words.

"I told you I would get you, Grace.  One way or another.  I won't be denied this time."

Her voice caught in her throat, but she managed to squeak out, "Why?"

"Why you?  Because you're good, and He wants you for Rafael, and what He wants, I want for myself.  I was the one left to fend for myself.  I can't help it if I've suffered, and I enjoy others' suffering.  Now that my brothers are getting love,” the word dripped disdain, “I'm finally getting some revenge."

She believed that.  Her attention was captured by a vision in the distance.  As she watched, the clouds parted, and an impossibly bright comet barreled toward them.  It had wings, and a roar of thunder accompanied by flashes of lightning, heralded its approach.  It came at them roaring, and Grace grabbed on even tighter to Damien’s arms, unsure of what was happening, preferring the evil she knew to the foreign thing coming at her.

Then the green haze fell over her, and she heard the inhuman roar form words.

"Let her go, Deceiver!"

She recognized Rafael's voice, just as the storm broke, and sheets of rain pelted her skin.  An ear-splitting peal of thunder crashed as the comet barreled into them.  Grace was jolted by the collision, and a flash of lightening momentarily blinded her.  A shining white arm reached for her, grabbing her by the waist.  She felt disoriented.  Surrounded by blackness all around, except for the shining white being clutching her fiercely, along with the demon, Grace couldn't tell which direction was up.  Where was Rafe?

The being that had come from the clouds was attacking Damien, and Grace took a chance.  She let go of the demon, and reached for the blinding white.  As she looked up to find its face, she found Rafe's eyes shining back at her.  Groping, she was able to clasp onto his shoulder, aware that he was fighting the demon, while still clutching her waist.