GODDESS OF THE MOON (A Diana Racine Psychic Suspense) (25 page)

“But―”

“Don’t speak, either.” She threw her shawl on the sofa,
then
pr
oceeded to unbutton her blouse.

He reached for her
, but she danced away.

“I said don’t move.”

He watched her slip each button through the buttonhole and slide the blouse off her shoulders. She unbuttoned her skirt
,
letting
it
f
a
ll in folds at her feet
. Stepping
out of its confines,
she
kicked
it and the blouse behind her
before removing her underwear
, leaving only the high-heeled sandals
her only ornament
.

Lucier felt the swelling in his groin. He reached again, but she waved her finger no. “I don’t know how long―”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? Quiet.”

He visually traced her naked body. Her skin shone incandescent in the dim light
;
blue highlights shimmered off her black curls.
H
e stood, fully clothed with an erection
primed
to bust his zipper. How much more could he take?

She started undressing him in the same methodical way she
’d taken
off her own clothes.
First the jacket, then the tie and shirt.
She ran her hands over his chest, before unbuckling his belt and letting his slacks fall to the floor. She left on his boxers
and
pressed her naked body against his bare torso
. H
eat shot through every part of hi
m, and he visualized him levitating
from the pleasure.

“Have I ever told you I love the color of your skin, the smoothness of it?
” she said
“
Your smell, your taste?”

“Diana―”

“
Shh
.
That was a rhetorical question.
” She bent down, took off his right shoe and sock,
then
picked his foot up and out of his trousers. She did the same with the other foot. He never
realized
how much desire hurt
until now
.

“You’re moving.”

“That’s because I’m not dead. I’d have to be dead to stand still while you’re
running your hand up my leg
.”
T
he moan
rose
from deep inside. “Enough.”

“If you move, it’s over. I’ll lock myself in the bathroom and you’ll
be forced
to jerk yourself off.”

“This is
torture
worse than waterboarding.” Christ,
he was
begging
the
woman to stop pleasuring him. He must be deranged. “Have pity.”

“No pity. Don’t move.”
She kissed her way down his chest until she got to the waistband of his shorts.

“Fuck it! That’s enough. You’ve proved your point. I accept your apology.” He picked her up. She weighed almost nothing, a tiny perfectly-formed
woman, skin like cream velvet.

“You didn’t let me finish,” she
teased
.

“Look at me. I’m finished. You finished me. If you kept going there’d be nothing left for you.”

She burrowed her head into the crook of his neck. “I thought
a tough guy like you
could go all night, and then some.”

“Not this one.
Not i
f you kept doing what you were doing
.
” She laughed. God
,
he loved her laugh.

Then he
kissed her
all the way to the bedroom as if she were dessert. She tasted sweet, like honey, and smelled deliciously spicy.
“I love the scent you wear.”

“It’s Opium.
The perfume.”

“No wonder they named it after a drug. It’s intoxicating.”

“You weren’t supposed to do this, you know,” she said. “I had plans.”

“
So do I. Very special plans
.”

She
bit his neck
. “Remind me to pick a fight with you more often.”

The Never Retractable Word

T
he next morning, Diana arrived at the Sunrise Mission without advance notice. She wore black jeans, a white blouse, and her hair pulled into a high ponytail. S
later was sitting at the entrance desk looking over a sheet of paper when she entered
. He didn’t seem surprised to see her. His longish hair was damp from his shower, and he wore khakis with a gray short-sleeve polo shirt that matched his eyes. His arms were tanned and well
-
muscled. The place smelled of fresh coffee and
maple syrup
.

“I suspected
you’d drop in
today,” he said, “but after lunch―
after I called
.” He emphasized the last comment to make a point. “I’m running late.
Just got here myself.”
He carried a steaming cup of coffee. “You’re an impatient woman, Diana.”

“Yes, I am. I wanted to know what you meant last night.”

“Coffee’s in the kitchen. Wait in my office. I have a few things to attend to.”

Diana looked around. The mission was busy.
Breakfast food still covered the sideboard, while o
ne woman clean
ed
the table and set
new places
.
W
hen she
scooted around the tables and
into the kitchen, another woman was putting
dirty
dishes into a huge dishwasher
. An industrial
-sized
coffeemaker sat on the counter next to
a plastic-wrapped stack of waffles
. Still another woman opened the oven to check on two
large pan
s
of macaroni and cheese
that
Diana assumed
comprised
part of the lunch menu
.

As people sauntered in, a server asked them not to take more than they could eat because waste left someone else hungry. A good philosophy for every home, Diana thought. She poured a cup of coffee and made her way to Slater’s office.

The papers and folders on his desk were arranged in neat stacks. Edward Slater was an organized man. The red light in the vent verified the active camera.
She remembered Lucier saying it activated when someone came into the room.
Damn
.
She would have liked to try the cupboard to see whether it was locked, but she dared not. Instead, she perused the book titles in his library. For an atheist, he owned a good many books on religion, including the Bible and St. Thomas Aquinas’s
Summa
Theologica
,
which s
he pulled from the shelf.

“A great philosopher, some think second only to Aristotle,” Slater said.

“I wouldn’t know. Religion is not
my strong point
. I was raised in the hellfire and damnation philosophy. Do bad things and God will get
you.
You don’t study that, you accept it. Later, I drifted into the curiosity phase of my life―which my father seriously frowned on―and finally settled into the “I don’t know” period. Even though my gift points to a higher force, I’m still there.”

“I’ve always found agnostics take that stand
to
hedg
e
their bets on getting into heaven rather than tak
e
a stand against the apocryphal God.”

Apocryphal.
I guess that would be a good word for an atheist when discussing God
. Diana thought about that one and agreed. She’d seen too much to discard the theory of a supreme being, but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t buy into theocratic ideology.

“I didn’t come here
for
a philosophical discussion, Edward. I came because I want to know what Compton is up to. Why is he interested in me?”

“Compton
is
fascinated
by
your powers
,
but
he’s put off
by
your arrogance. He knows you think he’s involved in a satanic cult. You’re not very subtle.”

“He is involved.” She told Slater about seeing her hand turn black and skeletal when Compton
held
it. “He’s evil, and you know it.”

“I don’t know it.
Y
our psyche is controlling your visions, and they’re off base. Silas is a generous mentor. Why would he jeopardize everything to embrace Satanism? It doesn’t make sense. I’d be a more likely disciple.”

“Are you?”

He took the book from her hand and slid it back into its place on the shelf. “No.”

She sensed his irritation. “I know what I saw.”

“Silas Compton, for all the good he does, can also be a formidable adversary. I would think long and hard before screwing with him. And that dream you announced to everyone in the room? You described a satanic ritual of which you were the offering. You don’t have to be a Satanist to get the
picture
.”

“
It wasn’t a dream.
It happened. Compton drugged me and served me up to his group. I’m not crazy, Edward.”

Slater shook his head and let out a long breath.
“That didn’t happen, and
you’
d be unwise to
broadcast it
. Silas can do you a lot of good. You heard him. You gave him an outstanding reading. One word from him and you’ll have a second career one could only dream of.”

“I don’t want a second career. I’ve already had two. And I don’t remember one second of my supposed reading with Compton. Not one word. I can’t be bought,
c
an you? Is his evil money that important? Surely you’ve made enough connections now to support your mission without Compton.”

“First of all, his money isn’t evil.
Y
ou’ve gotten
that
into your head
,
and you’re wrong.
S
econdly, am I bought by money? You’re damn right I am. Do you know how much it takes to run this place?
Food, beds, electricity, rent, and a hundred other expenses to keep it going?
We get a pittance in federal money. Without Compton’s funds
and a few other generous benefactors
, the people who come here would be
sleeping in boxes
on the street
and scavenging in Dumpsters
. Yes, I need his money, and I won’t do anything to throw a monkey wrench into my relationship with him.
Including my relationship with you.”

Diana froze at his words. “I didn’t know we had a relationship.”

“Yes you did. You know and
so does
your cop.
H
e doesn’t like it
either
.”

B
listering
heat circle
d Diana’s
neck. What was it about this man that both irritated and attracted her? He was so sure of himself.
So goddamn sure.
Well, she didn’t like someone taking for granted who she was or wasn’t in a relationship with.

“What do you think we have, Edward? The same kind of relationship you shared with Jeanine Highsmith? Are you looking for a donation?”

Slater looked stricken.
Diana
wanted to take back her words, but words spoken can never be retracted. They hang in the air like an endless echo in an empty room.

“I don’t need anything from you, Diana,” he said calmly. “You’re the one still searching.” He went to the door and opened it. “
You’d better
leave. Please make an appointment with my new secretary if you need to see me again.” He avoided looking at her as she passed by.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“
You’re
right. I didn’t. Good-bye, Diana.”

Diana left feeling like a slithering bottom-feeder. What possessed her to insult him? It was as if she had no control over her words. Edward Slater never mentioned money to her. Was his manipulation more subtle by
implying
a relationship? Or did they have some special symbiosis she refused to acknowledge. Lucier said that intellectual relationships were just as strong as sexual ones. Maybe, but despite what she knew about Slater, he emitted vibrations that were far more than academic. Could it be her imagination?
Every time
she was in his company, he never let her touch him more than a passing brush of her hand. What was he afraid of? If he was holding something back he didn’t want her to see
, he’d
buried
the secret
deep in his soul.
N
ow she
’
d ne
ver get the chance to find out.