Unquenchable Desire (3 page)

Before Momma Maggie passed, cancer racked
her body. He fetched and cared for her the best he could. Some folks whispered
that he was the hag’s slave and should be taken from her and placed in a state
home. Thank God his circumstance didn’t bother them enough to make the effort
to call the state because if they’d called, he would’ve had to run away and
leave Momma Maggie when she needed him most. And he’d grown to love her too
much to desert her.

The Godly woman, who read her Bible
aloud every night and taught him about the Lord, was a complicated bundle of
contradictions. She surprised him one evening when she kissed his cheek for the
first time, placed her treasured filigree cross around his neck and told him,
in her gruff voice, that she loved him.

Blinking back the moisture in his
eyes, he fingered the weightless cross woven of hair-fine gold threads and felt
an odd
, comforting warmth. Why hadn’t she sold the
necklace for the gold during the many dry, dusty years of poverty? It amazed
him that, after holding it dear for so long, she parted with it freely for the
likes of him. He knew there was a lesson in her actions somewhere. With her,
there always was.

He was twenty-two when she died. After
her friendless graveside funeral, he packed his backpack with his meager
belongings and took off for the
MT.
Baldy
area. He’d heard a
wealthy entrepreneur named Damon Lamont was working on a cure for lycanthropy
and he wanted to be close-by when the serum was perfected. It would fulfill his
dream to be normal and give him the freedom to seek the human family-life he’d
never had. He blinked back tears. The lost, hurt feeling inside from loving
Maggie warned him that he had to fight to stay detached from loving so deeply.
He learned that such human emotions were dangerous.

With tender sentiments locked
tightly away, he had stuck out his thumb to hitch a ride and to seek out his
new life.

****

A day earlier, Damon’s murdered
half-brother, Reeves’ bodiless spirit fed on his own evilness as he floated on
the airwaves, searching for a new body to invade and inhabit.
 
He grinned, when ahead, he spied a likely
candidate. The tall, young man hopped agilely out of the big, black semi-truck
on
Foothill Boulevard
and crossed the street to the cutoff to the
MT Baldy Highway
. The fine example of
young manhood would be a perfect vessel. The kid was good-looking, lean yet
muscular, and about the right age. He zoomed forward but when he tried to morph
into the kid, an electrical charge knocked his invading vapor backward like
ricocheting lightning. He tried three times before noticing the filigree cross
dangling from a gold chain around the young man’s neck like indestructible
armor. Reeves frowned and tried to yank the cross free. His hand shot through
it as though it wasn’t there. Maybe he couldn’t invade the hearts of God
lovers. That was okay. There were plenty of sinners out there.

Out of nowhere, a force like a
tornado whisked Reeves to a college dorm where a young man named Rory Mansell
resided. The muscular kid was smoking a reefer while watching porn on the
internet.
 
Reeves laughed.
My kind of guy.
How alike he and this
young man were. And soon they would be one.

****

College student Rory Mansell
pounded the desk with a powerful fist, making his computer rattle. The
dark-haired beauty squirming on the screen reminded him of Victoria–the-Fickle
who’d ditched him for the biker-exec. But he still had a chance with the other
twin, Valerie, and he liked blondes better anyway. She was good for him. With Valerie’s
gentle touch, he’d managed to control his flash of temper and not ruin a good
thing.

He opened his private journal. Writing
his thoughts down helped him
zero in on the steps to a solid plan of action. He extended an arm and
looked at his long fingers. For him, each finger represented a path that would
take him in a different direction. His little finger was crooked from a
childhood disease and epitomized the most often traveled path. Reviewing the
fingers now was like standing on the highest point of the college clock tower
and looking down at all the different paths going separate directions. Rory
laughed
. It must be fate that I always
choose the crooked path.

Suddenly the air above Rory turned
blast furnace hot. The heat entered his head and curled down through his body. His
skin burned as though licked by flames. He stiffened as he felt an evil soul
join his. Violent images swirled in his mind—blood and the ripped out throats
of many women. His debauchery took on a new depth. Overpowering hatred grew
within him like a cancer, and he lusted for revenge. His goal was no longer to
merely target a beautiful coed with a rich daddy and marry her. He wanted
Valerie’s Dad, Damon Lamont, to suffer a thousand deaths, and then he wanted to
tear out his throat. Was he going mad?

****

Reeves’ blackened soul, now sharing
Rory’s body, laughed out loud at his host’s confusion. The synergistic effect
of joining two evil personalities resulted in a more violent man than it had
with Lazar. As before, his evilness and stronger personality reined. Appearance
wise and, for all practical purposes, he
was
Rory, college boy on his way up. He looked like him, shared his talents, and
knew his secrets.
This is the perfect
setup. I’ve taken over the life and mind of a young man who’s already wormed
his way into the Lamont Mansion—and has direct access to Damon and the family. Now
I can have status, money and, best of all, bloody revenge.

Reeves smirked.
Damon and Rick would be surprised to learn, that
in spite of their deadly attack on me, death once again hadn’t been my final
destination.
No wonder
the Devil resurrected
me from the dead.
I’m invincible. And
as long as the Devil remains my partner, I can do whatever the hell I choose.

Chapter
Three

It was almost noon and the sun rode
high in the sky when Valerie saw Uncle Hugh standing beyond a hedge staring
intently at the gardener, Brian. Equally intrigued, if not more so, Valerie
stepped closer and surveyed the gorgeous hunk closely, staring at his shirtless,
wide, straight back. His leanly-muscled, towering stature was enticingly poured
into tight blue jeans. He stooped to pick up something silvery in the grass and
a slicked-back lock of midnight-black hair fell forward, giving him a rugged
bad-boy appearance that sent a thrill through her. His fast-clip working stride
showed ambition and an animal elegance. If he were a wolf, as Uncle Hugh ridiculously
hinted, he’d definitely be an alpha.

She swallowed to moisten her dry
mouth
. Why am I thinking of wolves and
worse yet, why am I lusting after the hired help?

Just days ago she’d been vaguely
interested in
Victoria
’s
cast off, Rory. Then this morning she’d found a delivery guy rather attractive,
and last night she was lusting after a wolf, no less. Raging hormones and fate
seemed to hurl her from one crazed infatuation to another. She closed her eyes.
Please, Lord, help me ward off any rash actions.
I don’t need more turmoil and confusion in my life.

When she opened her eyes again, the
gardener must have felt her resumed scrutiny because he looked up. “Hi,” he
said. “Can I help you?” He cut the mower engine and wiped the sweat from his
brow with a rag.

His steady eye-contact conveyed a
straight-forwardness and approachability that, in spite of her pounding heart
and flaming cheeks, gave her the courage to answer. “Since it’s such a hot day
and nearly noon, I wondered if I could bring you some lemonade and maybe a
sandwich?”

His powerful gaze was startlingly
direct. “Sounds great,” he said in a low voice that vibrated through her.

His engaging smile reached within
and triggered a current of desire. She fought the electricity of the almost
overpowering possession. His chest glistened with sweat. A wave of desperate
need made her knees weak.
I’m in big
trouble.

He watched her with an amused
intensity that made her want to bolt.

“I’m almost through with this
section,” he said, “and could use a break. That is, if you’re willing to join
me, Miss—?” He tilted his head to the side and his wayward midnight-black lock
fell forward again.

She found it hard to breathe. “I’m
Valerie Lamont.”

His earth-brown eyes widened and he
shifted uncomfortably. Mainly because his ill-at-ease demeanor disclosed that
he wished he’d never suggested that she join him. She struggled for the guts to
accept it. “The offer still stands and I see no reason not to join you.”

He clasped the back of his neck. “You’re
related to the boss?”

“His daughter.”

He blew out a gust or air as though
the relationship unbalanced him. Then he wiped his right palm on the rag
hanging from his pocket and extended his hand. “Brian Jones.” His firm
handshake was assertive without being challenging or arrogant.

She
shivered at his touch.
“I know,” she stammered like an idiot.
Oh, God. Mom, Dad, and definitely Uncle Hugh
wouldn’t approve
of her toying with
this stranger. But
w
hy should I care?
My dear twin would never let family
disapproval stop her. And
Victoria
’s
life is working out pretty well.
“We can sit under that tree,” she said,
nodding to a shady elm, and then she took off running, like a moon-struck
teenager, to fetch the Lemonade and sandwiches.

****

Ten minutes later, sitting
under the elm, Valerie heard the sweet strains of a mockingbird coming from the
high leafy branches. The happy sounds failed to relax her. Instead, she and
Brian
sat
stiffly, drinking lemonade, inhaling its lemony aroma like a drug, and eating
turkey sandwiches while pretending to admire the purple San Bernardino
mountains to the East. Actually, they were doing a slow dance of sneaking
glances at each other
.
His thirst
seemed unquenchable,
much like her own,
and he sank
his teeth into the bread like a ravenous animal.
Darn it,
one of us
has to say something
. “Dad said you’re
from
Trona
.” She hated the tremor in her voice.

Brian’s smile was very
intense, very male.
“Yes, I’m one of those desert rats who finally
escaped
Cactusville
to try my lot closer to the big
city.”

“
L.A.
?
Hmm.
Are you looking for
action or distance?”

“Mostly distance.” The strong
emotion in his deep tone seemed tinged with an undercurrent of evasion. “But a
little action might be interesting.”

Her gaze flew to his. His
intense gaze hummed with sexual tension. She glanced down and stroked a blade
of grass.
“Well, I hope this place suits you. Dad says you’re a quiet guy. I hope the
rat-race won’t be too frantic for you.”

“It suits
me.” His
direct eye contact remained steady, tender, and as consuming as
a caress.

What did his amused expression mean? “Do you plan to
stay awhile or are you a rolling stone?”

He leaned in closer. His eyes consumed her. “Do you
care? Or is your question merely conversation.”

She forced a smile. “Not
sure, only time will tell.” Her heartbeat escalated.
Where would all this tension sizzling between them lead?
Do I want it to lead somewhere
?
I shouldn't. I really, really shouldn't.

“Fair enough.
But
now
I know I’ll like working here at the
mansion. Everything is so beautiful. I intend to put my whole heart into the
grounds and sculpt it into the show place of the county it deserves to be.”

Valerie smiled. The pride in
his voice was strong. It was as though he wanted to be part of the land and
carve his mark on it. The fervent way he was looking at her suggested he might
want to carve his mark on her as well.

“If you want to keep your
job, maybe you should table the showplace idea until you talk to Dad. He likes
to keep a low profile.” To avoid Brian questioning her statement about her dad,
she hurried on.
“Have you always wanted to be a gardener or is the job a
stepping stone to something else?”

His eyes twinkled. “If your Dad’s recluse attitude is
off-limits, how about telling me about you?”

She laughed. "Glad to. But
the mystery about you intrigues me and before we move on, I’d like to know one
more thing about you.
Do you have family somewhere?”
Why was that so important to her?

He shifted on the grass. “Not anymore. Momma Maggie, my
only family, recently died of cancer.”
Valerie heard
the discomfort and deep sorrow in his voice.
“Now,” he said in a clipped
tone, “enough about me. Tell me who Valerie Lamont is beside a lovely young
woman born with a sterling-silver spoon in her mouth.”

She winced. “Ouch. What do you have
against folks who’ve worked hard and earned a few bucks?”

He shook his head and broke
into a grin. Then h
e reached for her hand, turned it over and looked at the palm.
“Very smooth.
Are you defending your dad or yourself?”
His voice was husky, his inflection challenging.