House Of Blood Part 20

Eddie managed a hoa.r.s.e mutter: "What destiny?"

Her only reply was a low moan.

Eddie s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably beneath her, but the movement only served to further stiffen his c.o.c.k. He sighed and became still. It felt like there was a stick of dynamite wedged between their bodies.

177.

Though it disturbed him to look into her eyes-especially when they were so close-he did so now. "You know, magic didn't make that happen. I'm a guy who likes women. A lot. And you are one lovely piece of a.s.s."

Giselle licked already moist lips. "Oh?"

Eddie nodded. "Yeah."

Giselle laid her wrists on Eddie's shoulders and clasped her hands behind his neck. "Tell me more about these dreams."

He slid a hand along one of her thighs. "Um ... now?"

"Tell me everything." One of Giselle's hands came away from his neck and cupped his jaw. The hand squeezed, forced his mouth open, and for one long, delicious moment their mouths joined. During that moment, every concern he had-even the need to escape-was obliterated by the totality of the erotic fever gripping him. Then she withdrew her tongue, pulled her head back, and said, "Everything. Leave nothing out. Starting with your escape from Below."

Eddie was breathing hard. "Jesus ... I can't even think with this ... thing ... between us."

Giselle's eyes flicked downward, then she met his gaze again and smiled. "I seem to have created a monster." Teasing laughter trilled out of her mouth. "I suppose I should set it free. Then we can talk."

She propped herself up on a knee, unfastened his jeans, and pulled his c.o.c.k free. Eddie scrambled to push the jeans down around his knees while Giselle stroked the engorged shaft. He moaned and flopped onto his back. She settled onto him, easing him inside her one heavenly inch at a time. When he was all the way in, she started riding 178.

him like an urban cowgirl atop a mechanical bull. Eddie thought he would come right away, given his unusually intense state of arousal, but it turned out she controlled his ability to achieve o.r.g.a.s.m, as well.

He cupped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s through the fabric of the dress, and she arched her back. Her mouth stretched open wide. Her eyes closed. Her head whipped side to side, making her raven hair fly. A series of high-pitched gasps escaped her mouth, building to one long crescendo of uninhibited pleasure. She abruptly seized him about the wrists and stopped bucking. She got to her feet, pulled the dress off over head, and tossed it away. Eddie stared up at her, rapt, and ran a hand along one of her perfect legs. He was dimly aware of any will, any resistance to her desires, dying quietly. Whatever else she might be-monster, killer, s.a.d.i.s.t, what have you-she was unquestionably a G.o.ddess.

There was nothing he wouldn't do for her.

She smiled, as if sensing his thoughts.

And she sat on his face, wedging the pink slit of her s.e.x against his open mouth. He worked her with his tongue, determined to pleasure her as no one else had, convince her of his worthiness. A piece of knowledge arrived wholly formed from seemingly nowhere. His arrival in her room was no accident. She had directed him here. She had plans for him. Grand, dangerous plans. He didn't know what she had in mind-couldn't know-but he sensed whatever it was might be his only true hope for salvation.

She screamed.

Slapped the wall behind her with open palms.

She rolled off him and beckoned him to her. He came to 179 her without hesitation, planting his hands beneath her arms. She arched toward him and he thrust into her, gasping at the hot wetness that enveloped him. She locked her legs around him, the b.a.l.l.s of her feet gouging the small of his back. Eddie thrust and thrust, arching his back, crying out, and it went on and on, until finally, mercifully, release was achieved. His eyes clenched shut, he groaned, twisted handfuls of rumpled bedsheets, gasped in air, and slumped against her.

No words were exchanged for a while. Silence was better. Eddie's head rested between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s while she slowly stroked his tangled hair. Her legs still clung loosely to his hips. It was beautiful, a natural physical joining. Eddie had engaged in s.e.xual activity during his time Below, but never had there been an opportunity to enjoy the luxury of afterglow. For that matter, s.e.x Below had never remotely approached anything like what had just transpired. The memory of those quick, animalistic couplings saddened him, served as a reminder of just how grim his situation remained. And he didn't want reminders. He just wanted to enjoy this moment. To savor the feel of Giselle's soft, deceptively fragile body beneath him.

He'd just made love to a woman.

Really made love to a woman.

A beautiful, transcendent thing, one of nature's greatest gifts. The most natural, normal thing in the world. How good it was to feel normal again, even if for only a few fleeting moments. How he would love to perpetuate this moment forever, render this carnal interlude eternal.

But that could not be.

180.

Somehow he knew it.

And so he was not surprised when Giselle said, "Our time here is short."

Eddie sighed. "I thought you might say something like that."

She stroked his cheek. "A time of reckoning is nearly at hand. Now... tell me about your dreams."

So he told her. He described the woman called Dream, whose recurring presence in his dreams was so like a portent, a sign of some momentous event, something he was somehow tied to. He told her of his growing surety that Dream was a real person, not merely some symbol of the subconscious.

"But the dreams themselves, I think, are symbolic. Something catastrophic will happen. I keep picturing fiery conflagrations. There's a sense of temptation, a psychic war for this woman's soul." Eddie shook his head. "I can't make sense of a lot of it, but I get the feeling she's the key to... everything."

Giselle's gaze flicked to the bed canopy. She looked thoughtful. "Tell me about your escape. Leave nothing out. Spare no detail, no matter how minor."

So he told her about the escape. The supply run to the checkpoint. How he'd slipped into one of the upbound tunnels while the guards at the undermanned station were busy taking advantage of the female members of the supply team. He was more than a hundred yards into the tunnel before he heard the dim echo of raised voices behind him. He told her of his frantic dash through the tunnels. At some point the shapes.h.i.+fters picked up his scent. The memory of that awful snorting, a hungry intake of unnatural 181.

breath, made him shudder in Giselle's arms. Next he related his pa.s.sage through the security booth and the surreal trip up the endless staircase.

Giselle made a sound.

Eddie frowned. "What?"

She ran fingers through his hair. "I was thinking how much easier this would have been for you had we been able to approach you."

"We?"

Giselle just smiled.

Eddie's mind reeled. There was so much he didn't understand. "s.h.i.+t. Look, I don't care who all's involved in ... whatever's happening. But if you needed me up here, if I've really got some kind of destiny to meet... why not tell me up front?"

Giselle's smile never wavered. "Destiny can't be coerced."

"I don't get it."

She kissed him lightly on the mouth. "You had to come to me of your own free will, Eddie, with no foreknowledge of the role you're to play here."

"But why?"

She sighed. "A higher power decreed it." Her smile finally faltered. "I doubt you would have come here had you known what was in store for you."

Eddie didn't like the sound of that. This rendezvous with so-called destiny gave every indication of placing him in great danger.

Life-threatening danger.

Which wasn't his cuppa Joe, thank you very f.u.c.king much.

He cleared his throat. "Look..."

182.

"Shush." She placed a finger to his mouth. "You have a rare opportunity, Eddie, a chance to achieve greatness. To do a good thing." Something flickered in her eyes, a barely glimpsed shadow of regret. "And to help me atone ..."

He frowned again. "Wait... are you saying what I think-"

She cut him off again. "Yes. Then we'll be gone from here."

Gone?

Eddie knew better than to hope.

Hope was heartache waiting to happen.

But Giselle said, "Yes, Eddie, we will."

She drew him into her again.

And gasped.

"I promise."

183.

Dream couldn't get over how gorgeous King was. His square jaw and cool blue eyes were the stuff of steamy erotic fantasies. A wavy wedge of brown hair swept back from his brow. He was dressed in black slacks with razor creases, a starched white s.h.i.+rt open at the collar, and polished nut-brown loafers. A cla.s.s ring of some sort glittered on one of his fingers. But the attraction was about more than appearance. There was something in the knowing way he looked at her that made her weak in the knees.

A shudder went through her every time he turned that dazzling smile on her, as he did now. "Tell me, Dream, if you don't mind my asking, were your parents..." He pursed his lips, as if considering the proper way to address a potentially delicate subject."... the sort who lived on communes and traveled around the country in the wake of nomadic musicians?"

184.

Alicia snorted.

Dream shot her a look, then showed King her most open, inviting smile. "No, I don't mind the question. I know what you're getting at. My name."

King arched an eyebrow. "And a lovely name it is."

Dream was peripherally aware of Alicia rolling her eyes. She knew what Alicia would say privately about King. That he was phony. That he dripped false sincerity the way construction workers dripped sweat-profusely. And perhaps there would be some truth in those accusations, but Dream didn't care. She knew King's demeanor toward her was typical predatory male stuff. His interest in her was obvious in both the set of his features and the rapt attention he paid to her.

And Dream loved it.

The memories of recent wounds were still so fresh in her mind. Disillusionment caused by Dan Bishop, the ultimate phony. Rejection and scorn from Chad, the man who didn't know-and now would never know-he was the love of her life.

It felt good to be the object of such blatant desire.

"Thank you," she said, flus.h.i.+ng. "To answer your question, my parents weren't cla.s.sic hippies. They went through a phase of that when they were very young, which happened to coincide with when I was born. My folks were eighteen and nineteen at the time. My mother named me. She later said she would have named me anything else if she'd known there'd be a hit song in the seventies of the same name. At any rate, I don't mind the name. It's not the burden everyone a.s.sumes."

King laughed. "Oh, I would hope not. A name like that's 185.

a gift. You should wear it proudly, the way a queen wears her crown."

Alicia echoed his laughter. "Flaunt it, baby"

King appeared to miss her sarcastic tone. "Precisely. Let it set you apart, distinguish you from the ma.s.ses. You should move through the world with arrogance, smirking at the ordinary people who can never know how it is to feel special... the way you are, Dream."

Dream's smile faltered. "Yeah. ..."

What King said ran contrary to everything she believed. She disdained arrogance in people. Ditto cra.s.s displays of unchecked ego. King exuded those qualities in abundance. Everything about him, his clothes, his home, his att.i.tude, bespoke a measure of wealth and success that was disquieting. Exceptionally attractive women, women like herself, were magnets for men like King. A lot of women allowed themselves to be seduced by money and material things. Dream couldn't fault them. It was only human to seek security. But her experiences with successful men always left her cold. Wise in the ways of finance and business, none of them were versed enough in the nuances of the human heart to suit her. She needed a man who would prize her more for her worth as a person than her value as a trophy arm-piece. Somewhere along the way she'd decided the right man for her, whoever he turned out to be, probably wouldn't be a slice of society's upper crust.

Why, then, should she find herself so drawn to King?

But the answer was obvious, wasn't it?

This was a time of great upheaval in her life. Life, in fact, had beaten her. Like a hooker left broken and b.l.o.o.d.y in a ravine. She had struggled so hard for so long, 186.

and now she was ready to give up. She was ready to die. The enormity of it hit her for the first time since entering King's house. Maybe her bleak mind-set was to blame. A person facing imminent death at her own hands had no reason to be bound by a lifetime's worth of insecurities and inhibitions. The same went for principles once held dear. A man like King, c.o.c.ky and so polar opposite of her ostensible ideal, was maybe exactly the right man for this set of circ.u.mstances.

King got up to freshen his drink, then returned to the sofa opposite her. "You seem troubled, Dream. Is something bothering you?"

Dream frowned.

He'd known her less than ten minutes and already he was probing her for personal information. It seemed inappropriate, but... yes, she felt like she could talk to him. Something in his eyes spoke to her, indicated that all her darkest secrets could be shared in confidence. But that was ridiculous. She was a.s.suming things she couldn't know. Perhaps all she was seeing was l.u.s.t, naked desire transformed by the filter of her desperation into something else. It was silly, even absurd, the notion that he was appealing to her on some deeper level.

But the feeling was there, imbued with an unlikely emotional heft.

She sighed. "Well..."

"Oh, Christ."

Dream flinched at the exasperation in Alicia's voice. She glanced hesitantly at her friend, whose unwavering gaze was locked on King.

"I hate to interrupt your little mating dance, but tough 187.

s.h.i.+t, we've all got some things bothering us." Her eyes, hard brown pebbles set in porcelain, flicked briefly at Dream before returning to King. "We didn't show up at your door because we had nothing better to do, Edward. We're lost, you see, and we're out of gas. We're here because your place is literally the end of the road. We need help."

King stroked his jutting chin with a thumb and forefinger. His brow furrowed with concern. "I see."

Alicia smirked. "Do you? I'm not sure, man. One of our friends is dead." She jerked a thumb at Karen Hidecki, whose face was a numb, unreadable mask. "Her boyfriend. And we're not talking about natural causes. He was murdered."

Dream saw a shudder shake Karen's thin shoulders. Shame a.s.sailed her all over again. The woman's obvious state of shock was the only barrier holding back a complete mental meltdown. Jesus, Alicia was right to sound p.i.s.sed off.

What's wrong with me? she wondered.

How many times had she asked herself that very question?

Too many.

A picture of the Glock filled her mind.