Misery (11 page)

His erection was painful, but he was glad. He wanted her to feel it, to know that he wanted her. He felt so much from her. But what was really dangerous to both of them, he felt her sexual draw. She wanted him, she was aware of him. He smelled the sex from her.

He was aware of her fear. That emotion was strong, was pushing down all of the other emotions. It became so strong that he’d slowly become aware of what he was doing, so he’d released her, listened to her words.

He felt so much from her, he did not know the names of what was rushing off her mind. It was like seeing a color wheel for the first time but not knowing the names of all of the colors flashing around.

He needed to know the names so that in time he could ask her for those emotions. He needed her. He had never needed anyone until he met Lord Alex. He did not need Lord Alex, he needed to serve him, but Lord Alex gave him riches, wars to fight, freedom. Now he had met the one person on this world that he needed. He knew he’d hurt her in order to force her to give him names
—
even the pain had come through as an emotion. He was swamped in emotions, drunk on them. How could he ever live without them from this time forward?

Finally, he knew for this one time he had to let her go. He let her slide down on the bed beside him. He still had that amazing hair over him. He listened to her carefully, reminding her once to breathe. When she was laying there, thinking, worrying, he knew she needed to rest, to sleep.

He searched her emotions. He was aware he could not influence her, but he could encourage the one that was the right one for her. Finally he found the one where she was so tired. He enlarged it until he could tell by her breathing, the quiet of her mind, that she was asleep. He could relax himself. He replayed all the emotions, just feeling her hair on his body, feeling her beside him until dawn.

It was early in the dark morning when he felt her start to fight the covers. She was twisting, turning her head, fighting someone in a dream. She placed her arms above her head, her wrists together, as if someone held them. He heard her moan and he smelled the juices of her sex.

He rose up slowly so he could see her face. He believed she was dreaming. It seemed to be some type of sexual fantasy. She seemed to be fighting something but giving in to some type of play. He reached over and gently touched her wrists. She immediately opened her eyes, staring directly into his.

“What are you doing?” she barked as she pulled her hands down and started fighting for the covers. Since her legs were tangled in the bedding, it took her a moment to get everything wrestled up where she wanted and she blew out a deep breath.

“You were having a dream.”

She was angry, he felt the emotion. “You woke me to tell me I was dreaming. Damn it, I don’t dream. I can’t sleep with you in the bed with me. We have to get twin beds or something. Enough is enough.” She rolled away from him. He could feel her struggling to relax. He wondered what she was trying to relax from
—
being angry with him, or being excited from her dream?

* * * *

Actually she knew that she dreamed, the same type, but with some changes. They were fantasies that she hated. They had started when her high school sweetheart had told her she was a hot chick but not a hot lay. She had told him where he could put it the next time he wanted to hump some hot chick. That same night she had experienced her first fantasy dream to such an extent that she had awakened in the night, tied up in her sheets. She’d had to get up and take a shower.

The dreams changed over time, but did involve being restrained, unable to see her lover. Over time the dreams came less frequently. She got to a point of ignoring them, denying that she was even having them.

Chapter Nine

He was up and dressed before she woke in the morning. He joined Trump as he waited for her to get up and do whatever it was women did in the bathroom.

His phone was on the counter near Trump, so Trump answered it and held it out. “Lord Alex.”

Deck took a second to make sure he used the right name to keep his Liege pleased. “Alex, have you decided what our next action should be?”

“Decimus, we are concerned. We have all kinds of rumors of big money and rewards being out there for your package. Radames is flying in from Europe. He has notified his second in command in Chicago to move some men down to help support you, but we would feel better if you could get her to his home in New Orleans. He has lots of protection there along with local help. Rad and I think you should go ahead to try to move south, but you need to use a lot of caution. There is a big price on the target’s head. I am sorry, we have no idea who or how many are out there or if they have reached you yet. On the other hand, the longer you delay, the greater the chance that more will be picking up your trail. I will leave it up to you, but I would think, the sooner you move, the better your chances. Sorry that I don’t have any good news.”

“I understand. We will act accordingly. Our foremost will be the safety of the female.” He hung up, looked at Trump with his stony face.

Trump raised his eyebrows. “Do we have a problem?”

“We are probably outnumbered. Help can’t get here soon enough. We must go out and move. This will expose us.”

“Okay, Mr. Don’t-Talk-Much. Let me see if I can spell that out. There is a whole army of bad guys out there that don’t care if we live or not because they just want the female. We can’t wait for backup because we need to move as soon as possible, which means going out into the middle of that wild bunch. Does that sum it up?”

“Yes.”

“Super, I thought we might have had some type of problem.”

They both stood and watch the female come out and eat food from the kitchen. Deck told her that they had to leave. They would not be able to take much with them. He followed her into the bedroom as she prepared to leave.

“Wear light but fighting clothes
—
there is danger.”

* * * *

She looked over at him. She decided he was dressed for battle. He had on black leather pants, a black tee that hugged the muscles in his chest, a wide belt looped through with leather pockets that she could see held knives, a type of chain and some things she could not identify. He had on the polished black boots that were over his jeans and came up his calves. He had a gold cuff on one wrist and a leather cuff on the other that held a knife against the inside of his arm. Yep, dressed for battle.

She pulled out a dark tee. She looked down at the pink one she had on. She knew he was not leaving so she just kept her back to him and pulled off the pink shirt, replacing it with the dark one. Then, moving over to the mirror on the dresser, she began to braid her hair into one long braid. This took a while but when she looked at him in the mirror, he had not moved, had not taken his eyes off of her. Working in her hair, about half way down, she reached for a black ribbon she had laid out and began to include it in the braid. When she was done she tied the ribbon at the bottom and pulled the braid up to attach the ribbon to the hair at her neck. Since the braid was so long she would have sat on it if let down, this put the loop half way down her back. She grabbed a denim jacket and pulled it on over the braid. She picked up her big purse, put the strap over her shoulder, and tucked it against her body under her arm. She had on sneakers, the only thing that she felt she could run in on the city streets.

She turned to face him. “Am I dressed correctly? Tell me what I should do to help you.” She was surprised to see his eyes seem to glow.

“You are a warrior. I am pleased. There is one thing I will tell you. If we get separated, remember I get your emotions. Send me your feelings. I will find you though those feelings.” He had not moved, just stood with that face that showed nothing. The eyes had glowed for only a moment, then were back to the dead black.

“I don’t understand. Do I yell? Scream? Cuss out the people that have me? What do I do to send you emotions?”

“Anything, just do it louder, harder than you ever have. Get more than you have ever felt, no matter what it is you are feeling.” He turned and walked out, so she followed.
A good little warrior, ha.

She was confused, but still thinking. How was she supposed to feel more?
Let’s see, if you are scared, get really scared, sure. If mad, get really pissed. Stay in that mode, don’t let it dwindle down, find something to make you scared so you can stay frightened for as long as you can. Find anger, get mad at someone, let it build, hate him and keep the hate fueled.

“Well, are there any other instructions?” She turned and found she could smile at him.

“Walk two steps behind me on my left.”

This made her smile even more. “Yep, just like the slave women in Iraq. I will try not to step on your heel.”

Suddenly, so fast she was not aware that he had moved, he had her against a wall, his hand around her throat cutting off her air. She felt the pressure of his large body pushing her into the wall.

“Your life is in danger, do not make a joke.”

She looked into his eyes, but there was no change in the unreadable face. She was afraid she was going to pass out from lack of oxygen but at last he let his fingers relax enough for her to get some air.

She looked up at him as she drew in the air. She tried to count the times he had deprived her breathing. She wondered if he was aware of his great strength, of her human weakness.

She placed a hand on the arm holding her neck. “Deck, have you ever had a girlfriend or a lover?”

He looked down at her. “What relevance is this?”

“Well, I wondered if you knew what the term gentle means?” She rubbed her hand on the arm. She saw him look down at the hand moving on his arm.

“Gentle, is this an emotion?”

“Well, sort of, it is also how you treat people and things. I think I need to teach you gentle so that you quit putting bruises on me.”

“I do not want to bruise you, but why would I use gentle? Is it a weapon?”

It was so hard to talk to him. The lack of emotions left her with no gauge to see if she was reaching him on any level. “Well, if you were going to stop to hold a prisoner, it might be good to be gentle to them. It would help to be kind to keep them alive so they can still be able to answer questions.”

He looked at her. “I would not use gentle.”

“Well suppose you wanted to rub my arm like I am rubbing yours, the touch is gentle. That way I’m not bruised. It is just a new way to control reflexes or your muscles, to recognize when someone or something else can be bruised or broken.”

He still looked at her hand rubbing his arm. He did the unexpected. Still holding her against the wall, his hand at her throat, he lowered his head, bringing his lips against hers.

At first she thought in panic he was going to bite her, but she felt the softness of his lips against hers, the heat of his body, as he moved in against her, pressing her slowly with his muscular frame to the cold hard wall behind her. But it was not the wall she was thinking about, it was the mouth on hers, as he slowly tasted her lips with his tongue. She felt a warm rush of her blood move downward through her veins. The tongue became more demanding as it wanted entrance. She surprised herself, as with a sigh, she parted her lips, letting him slide that hot tongue into her mouth to explore all of her.

She felt a wave of desire sweep over her as she moved her hands up his arms. She was unable to move her head, but she really wanted to just let him continue to enter, to move, to taste, to know her.

Finally, when he drew back, she opened her eyes, her mouth still flush. He left her lips conquered. She looked into his eyes. She saw that he was eating more than her mouth. He had received her reaction to the kiss. He had felt each unbidden emotion that her body sent along with the hot blood that the kiss woke within her breasts even down to her legs, especially that hot place within her womanhood.

He nodded in acceptance of those emotions as he stood back. She was glad she had the wall to support her. She caught her breath, finally wanting the hungry dark eyes to move away. She tried to talk, but her voice was weak.

“I will walk as you have instructed. Is there a special reason?”

He stepped back, looked at her for only a moment. “It leaves me free to move to my strong right. It lets me know where you are.”

“Thank you for the explanation.” She put her cell phone and the silver knife in her bag, decided enough was enough. This change in her life was letting her give up so much with such ease. She was becoming a different person, one she was not sure she liked. What did he call her? A warrior.

They left quickly, going down to the parking area. In the garage Trump went out first and started the vehicle. Deck held the car door for Mis to sit in the back seat.

They’d been on the road for about two hours. Mis was getting tired of watching the countryside when she felt the tension of the two nightwalkers.

“Deck, what is it?”

Neither answered. She watched as Trump spent more time watching the rear mirror than the road in front. She could only hope his reflexes were the same as Deck’s.

After a long silence, almost twenty minutes, Trump spoke. “Do you see them? I should stop for gas.”