Making Love To Death (One Night With Death) (9 page)

“
I have my sources.”

“
Oh right. Money talks.”

“
Don't take this the wrong way. I...I can't
explain this. I don't even know...myself,” he gestured towards
his tall, lean body. “I can't even remember why I overdosed.
I read all the reports, trying to find something that might make
sense.” He shook his head. “The tabloids are
speculating that I tried to kill myself over a woman, or some women,
or a failed business, or something or other. But I honestly can't
remember. It's like I've forgotten chunks of my life...and
remembered other bits. And these other bits—” He took a
deep breath. “All have you.”

Emma stared into his eyes, and saw the brown fade
completely from his eyes. When she blinked, his eyes had become
completely blue.

“
Your...” she started.

“
Can I go now, Mummy?” Luc showed her his
empty bowl. “Can I watch cartoons?”

“
Yes, honey,” she said, her gaze flying from
Damien to Luc. Why did their eyes look so much alike?

Luc slid off his chair and scuttled to the living room.
A minute later, the sounds of a frenzied cat and mouse chase could be
heard blaring from the television.

Emma stared into Damien's sparkling blue eyes, feeling
as though she was staring into an ocean. His eyes couldn't have just
changed color. It must have been a trick of the light. Or her mind.

“
What...do you remember about me?” she asked
at last.

He looked down at his cup. His black hair was wet, like
he'd just had a shower. A muscle was working in his jaw. Emma
stared at his physique, trying to picture his body under that white
shirt. He obviously spent quite a lot of time at the gym. There was
not an ounce of fat on him. His arms were toned and the shirt
stretched over his chest and shoulders. She could feel the heat
rising to her face as she remembered her dream. She had seen him
stark naked and very aroused.

When their eyes locked, she flinched from the searing
heat behind his eyes. “I remember making love to you,”
he said huskily.

The sounds from the television reached a screaming
crescendo. Emma only heard his words echoing incessantly in her mind
and all around her small kitchen. Her lips parted but no sound
escaped.

“
I know how this must sound...” Damien
began.

Emma shook her head. “No. You don't.”

“
I really don't mean to cause any offense. But
it's the truth. Even before I opened my eyes, I saw your face. I
knew your name. I can't explain it. It's like you're my anchor. I
feel...like I know you—intimately. I know every...”
Every curve and inch of your body. How you taste, and feel.
His eyes moved slowly down her body, and his throat moved as her
breasts heaved at her labored breathing.

Emma let out a cough and Damien's eyes snapped back to
her face. “You mentioned...” She chewed her lower lip.
“Tell me about the fire.”

“
Huh?”

“
You mentioned a fire, last evening, at the
hospital.”

Damien scrubbed his hand across his face. “I'm
not even sure how to begin...”

“
Take your time.” Emma raised the cup to
her lips but she hardly tasted the coffee she swallowed. She kept
her gaze steadily on Damien.

“
When I woke up in the hospital, the doctors told
me that I was real lucky that I was still alive. I'd had a narrow
escape. It's true. I am very lucky to have survived. But I didn't
survive the drugs—I don't even remember taking them. I
survived the fire,” he said feverishly, his words gushing out
in a torrent. “There was fire all around me, not just burning
me, but whipping me, scouring me, torturing me. The pain was like
nothing I have ever known. I was being ripped apart, piece by piece,
my flesh gouged out by the barbs on the flames and my entrails being
torn out and scorched. The torture went on forever, but I didn't
die. I couldn't die. I had to be destroyed completely...in order to
live. I could feel the terrible agony for an eternity, but I was
determined to bear it. Those flames were meant to punish me, but
also to purify me. So I could redeem myself...and come to you.”

The cup was shaking so hard in Emma's hands she had to
put it down.

“
What else do you remember?” she whispered
at last.

Damien stared at her. “You don't think I'm mad?
You don't think that I'm hallucinating, that I'm a stark raving
lunatic? You don't think these...visions were brought on by the
drugs? That it was just a dream, a nightmare?”

“
What do you think? Do you think that it's a
dream?”

“
No, no.” He shook his head. “It was
real. It was all real! It happened. I...” He turned his
arms over in front of him. “I don't know why there are no
scars...” He swallowed a couple of times before continuing,
“This body—it doesn't seem to be the same. Like...it
wasn't mine, but now it's mine. I know it doesn't make sense, but
that's how it is. I'm...not Damien Blake. I was...someone else, yet
now I am Damien Blake. I know of Damien's life, my life—”
He shrugs and gives Emma a wry smile. “—only from what
I've read and heard so far.”

“
So...if you're not Damien,” Emma said
slowly. “Who are you?”

“
I don't think I had a name.” He frowned,
then added hastily, “But I'm Damien Blake now. I wasn't, but
now I am. Makes sense? I thought not.”

Before Emma could respond, Luc came skidding into the
kitchen. “Can we go now? There will be long queues at the
amusement park! I want to be first in line! Let's go! Hurry,
Mummy, hurry!” He tugged at Emma's arm, trying to haul her off
her chair. “Are you coming too?” He turned to Damien.
“Would you like to go to the amusement park with us?”

“
Now, Luc...” Emma raised a finger.

“
Yeah. I love the bumper cars, but roller
coasters freak me out,” Damien told him.

“
That's all right. You can sit with me. And you
can hold my hand,” Luc assured him, offering a sweaty little
hand to Damien.

Emma watched as Damien took the little boy's hand in his
large one and held it like it was the most magical, precious thing.
The boy's eyes rounded and he let go of Emma's arm to turn to Damien.
Luc had always been wary and reticent around strangers, but he
seemed to take an instant liking to Damien. There was a powerful
bond between them. Emma could sense it. When Damien reached out to
hug him, Luc didn't recoil. Damien closed his eyes as he nestled his
face into the boy's golden blond hair and held him like his heart
would break. There was a glimmer of unshed tears at the corners of
his eyes.

When Damien put him down, Luc went back to Emma and
said, “Can he come with us? Please, Mummy, he'll be good, I
promise.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “Are you going to ask if
we can keep him next?”

“
Nope. He'll have to ask that himself!”
With that, the little boy squealed with laughter and ran out of the
kitchen.

“
Oh, I...” Emma gaped at Damien, flustered
and embarrassed.

“
The kid's right,” Damien answered in all
seriousness. “I will have to ask that question myself. On
bended knee.”

Emma was utterly speechless. Even after Damien shooed
her to her room to get changed while he cleared the table and washed
up the bowls and cups, she was unable to find a fitting retort.

Emma lay in bed, staring out the window. Damien had
spent the weekend with Luc and her again. In fact, he seemed to be
spending every weekend with them and took them out to dinner several
times a week for the past few months. Sometimes he even cooked for
them. She often caught him staring at her when he thought she wasn't
looking, and the sexual tension between them was stretched almost to
breaking point, yet he never once made a move on her. He never tried
to hold her hand or her waist, never leaned in to kiss her on the
lips. He only kissed her on the cheek when he said goodnight, and
even that chaste kiss filled her with desire and longing. She knew
he felt it as well. She sometimes saw the arousal in his eyes and in
his pants, but he would turn away quickly or excuse himself. This
man was an enigma, a walking contradiction. Did he want her, or did
he want her? It was obvious he did. And the affection he had for
Luc was genuine. Why didn't he try to get her into his bed? He had
ample opportunity to do that, and his bed was a sprawling, luxurious
affair, one that she was sure he had taken many women before. So why
didn't he take her?

Maybe he was still dealing with his demons. He was
undergoing therapy and the doctors said not to rush him into
remembering his past. Damien Blake was an orphan who had made good.
He never maintained any long-term romantic relationships, though he
often had several short-term ones going at the same time. He was
always photographed with a bevy of beautiful models and starlets.
But this time, he managed to keep Emma and her son out of the
spotlight. Even though he spent almost all his time after work with
them, his security and publicity team had protected Emma and Luc's
privacy fiercely and efficiently. No one knew that Damien Blake was
seeing her. Or perhaps Damien didn't want anyone to know. Maybe he
wasn't serious about her. She was just another short-term fling. Or
not even that.

Emma tossed angrily on her side.

What was this man up to?

She had dated many men and had never really committed to
a serious relationship as well. So why was she getting all hot and
bothered over Damien Blake? If he was playing her, she was more than
capable of playing him right back. But the trouble was that he
didn't seem to be playing with her. He seemed genuine. Everything
he did for them was sweet and thoughtful and protective.

Maybe his medication and therapy and whatnot had robbed
him of his libido, rendered him impotent. Some medicines and
treatment had the effect of suppressing the patient's sex drive.

But Emma knew that Damien wasn't lacking in that
department. She had felt his erection often enough. When he
accidentally pressed against her or when she brushed against him, she
would feel his throbbing, rigid length and feel the tension in his
whole body. The bulge in his pants was huge and obvious, and she
could see the desire raging in his eyes when he looked at her.

She had thought she knew him when he confessed and
confided in her about what he had gone through. He never told his
doctors about those visions he had, about being burnt and tortured by
those fires. She was the only one he told. And then he had clamped
up, and dismissed those nightmarish visions as just meaningless
images conjured up by the booze and drugs. He never talked about
those harrowing visions again, and gradually Emma's initial
suspicions faded. Her initial suspicions and theories had been
completely crazy, she admitted. How could Damien be who she thought
he was? Her rational brain refused to go with her heart this time,
and she had to convince herself that her instincts and her feelings
were just plain wrong this time.

Emma threw off the covers and sat up in bed. She had
worked herself up to such a state that sleep was now impossible.
Might as well do something constructive instead of driving herself to
distraction.

Padding into the kitchen, she made herself a cup of
strong black coffee and brought it to the living room. After tapping
a frenzied beat on the side of her cup with her nails, she finally
reached out and fired up her laptop. Work—work was a
constructive distraction. Work was a boon to restless souls. Emma
put down her cup and set to work with gusto and was soon completely
absorbed in drafting a complex agreement for a client. She was just
taking a sip of cold coffee when she stiffened at a sound at her
front door. She held her breath and listened. There it was again.
There was no mistake. She glimpsed a shadow moving under the door.
Soundlessly, she got up and grabbed a long umbrella from the stand.

There was a soft knock on the door and she heard someone
murmur her name. She recognized the voice, but what was he doing
here in the dead of night?

With one hand clutching the umbrella, she reached out
and unlocked the door with a shaky hand. Damien stumbled through the
door and into her arms. Emma stifled a scream as he straightened up
quickly.

“
Emma,” Damien said breathlessly. “I
didn't think you'll be awake.”

“
What on earth...?”

He looked down sheepishly, as she planted her hands on
her hips. “Just how long have you been standing outside my
door?”

“
I...I never left.”

Her eyes widened. “After dinner, you drove us
straight home. That was...” She glanced at her wall clock.
“...almost seven hours ago!”

Damien scratched the back of his head. “Yeah.”

“
Oh, for goodness sake! Come in and sit down.
How can you be standing out there for so long? What were you
thinking...” She closed the door behind him and turned to
continue her interrogation. She gasped. “Damien! What are
you doing?”

He was down on one knee, holding up a dainty red velvet
box.