On Demon Wings Part 15

I leaned against the kitchen wall and stared at him, waiting.

"Well, Perry," he said slowly. "I'm not sure how long I will stay here. If I'm going to start doing other stuff for Jimmy, then being in Seattle might be the best option."

It was a shame that the word Seattle now brought about involuntary flinching from me.

He looked up at me hopefully. "But if you agree to doing the show, then I'd be more than happy to put down some roots here."

I let out a small sigh and looked down at the zesty bubbles in the beer. "So, really, I'm what's keeping you here?"

Maximus didn't say anything, just gave me a quick smile and took another large gulp of beer. But I knew it was the truth and it made me feel unbelievably pressured. And so not worth it.

"So what do you say, darlin'?"

"Do you really think I could give you an honest answer about the show right now? I mean, considering I'm actually being haunted myself."

"Actually...." He trailed off and turned his attention to the window where the lights of the city glowed outside.

"What?" I asked, and came closer to him. I stopped in front of the couch, forcing him to turn his attention back to me. "What?"

"Don't you reckon this is the perfect time to be filming all of this?"

I laughed, angrily and to myself. "Are you serious?"

"Well, yes, Perry. There is obviously something funny going on. Why shouldn't this be on the show? It would be brilliant. We can still get to the bottom of things; we'll just have it all on camera. It might even help your case if things...er...escalate."

My mouth was hanging open slightly so I snapped it shut, feeling bitter venom coursing through my veins. "You are unbelievable, you know that?"

He looked shocked. "What did I say?"

"You are just like him," I spat out, and it looked like I just slapped him in the face. "Both of you are exactly the same. Both of you don't give a s.h.i.+t what happens to me; you just want to use me for your own profits. You should be ashamed of yourself. I thought you were different!"

I placed my full beer down on the coffee table and took off for the door. I was insulted and furious and so close to putting a fist through his wall. That would give his stupid apartment some character, wouldn't it?

He got up and in a few strides of his long legs he was down on his knees in front of me, grasping both of my arms in his hands.

"I'm sorry, please don't go," he said.

"Oh, save it," I said, trying to remove myself from his grasp. I'd heard that before.

"I'm serious," he said in his steady drawl. "I was being an idiot. I'm sorry. I didn't realize how insensitive I was. You're absolutely right, Perry. I guess I just thought you were used to it."

"You never get used to it," I said quietly, and was surprised to find my vision blurring, tears welling up quickly in my eyes.

"Oh, Perry," he said, and stood up. He brought me into his chest and wrapped his arms around me. I stood stiff and still until I relented and the tears spilled out of me. I didn't even know why I was crying. I was mad and frustrated more than anything else. Angry at the world, angry at Maximus and angry at Dex. Most of all, I felt angry at Dex. Without him, none of this would have happened and I could have been living a remotely normal life. I had demons in my past and skeletons in my closet and he had to come along and dredge everything up and let them loose to play.

At that moment, as I sniffled my nose on Maximus's warm, green plaid s.h.i.+rt, I couldn't have hated Dex more.

And that's when it happened. The hot lava that swirled inside of me concentrated deep in my belly, lighting up my bottom half. My head swam against my myriad emotions and as if the air pressure in the room changed, Maximus noticed it too. He pulled back slightly and I stared up at him, at his full lips, scattering of freckles and green, green eyes. Then he kissed me.

And as before, I kissed him back but with a feverish urgency this time. He tightened his grip around me and soon I was clawing back at him, feeling his hard arms and broad chest, squeezing the strength in his shoulders. The man was built like an ox and I felt like a dainty, little fairy in his hold.

But as we continued, and the world around us dropped away, I felt less like a dainty fairy and more like a woman on a mission. A woman who wanted control. And a woman who would get it.

We fumbled our way to his s...o...b..x bedroom as he deftly whipped my tunic and leggings off, leaving me in mismatched bra and underwear. I didn't care, though. I tore open his s.h.i.+rt, the b.u.t.tons unsnapping in a row with a satisfying sound.

I had to pause to admire how well built he was, like a cowboy from the old west. He looked naturally built, like he got his pecs from hauling huge bales of hay and his arms from branding cattle. He took advantage of my admiration to scoop one arm around my waist, and, like I weighed nothing at all, he threw me onto the bed. I landed with a soft thunk and stared at him excitedly through the curtain of messy hair that cascaded in front of my face.

"So you like it rough, do you?" I said to him in a mean voice that startled me. It was low and throaty and not at all like my own.

Maximus didn't appear to notice. He just grinned, his eyes blazing, and took off his jeans, flinging them across the room. The fact that he was going commando was enough of a surprise to take my mind off my strange voice deviation. Not so surprising was the fact that he was very well endowed (which I already suspected; I mean look at the size of the man) and hard as steel.

In the blink of an eye, the condom was on and he was on top of me. I relished the feeling of his large, weighty ma.s.s. He brought his wet lips to my neck and worked his way down. I know the doctor and pamphlets said it was OK to have s.e.x a week after a miscarriage, and even though it had been longer than that, I still didn't feel comfortable with him in that region. At least not with his face.

I arched my back in pleasure as he licked down my hip bones, I grabbed the side of his head. I gave it a tug, trying to get him to stop his journey down below and come back up to me but he was so wrapped up in his pursuit that he ignored me. I tightened my grip around him and tried again, to no avail.

A low moan escaped from my lips as a rush of power, desire and anger rushed up from the bottom of my gut. I crunched up, brought my hands underneath his armpits, and with one startling motion, I yanked him up.

I yanked him up so hard that he landed up next to me on the bed, bouncing from the impact.

"Darlin?" he gasped, staring at me in a mix of fear and surprise.

I couldn't believe my own strength but I didn't have the want to dwell on it.

He tried to sit up and with one hand I shoved his farthest shoulder back down onto the bed; then, with some newly found agility, I sprang up and jumped on top of him, straddling him tightly with my thighs.

I leaned down on him, my b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressing against his chest, and I smiled sweetly.

"Is this too rough for you?"

His eyes narrowed momentarily. "Is that how you want to play?"

I chuckled and started attacking his neck with my tongue. I don't know what had come over me; it was almost like I was playing a different role, a part in a play. It was scary, just taking a backseat to all of this as I lightly raked my nails up and down his arms, but it was strangely liberating. I wasn't myself at all, and for once I was OK with that.

In fact, part of me welcomed it. Maybe a little too much.

With one firm hand, I guided Maximus's c.o.c.k into me, which elicited a l.u.s.tful groan out of him. I didn't feel any pain, I didn't feel much of anything except a surge of energy spreading apart my insides. I kissed him violently and gyrated my hips into a fast, steady rhythm, which caused more of his moaning to fill my mouth.

He tried to pull back and, gasping for breath and not wanting to come just yet, he pleaded, "Slow down."

I laughed to myself and raked my nails down his chest now. Harder.

"Ow," he cried out, and dipped his chin to exam his chest where three bleeding lines were apparent.

I leaned forward and cackled in his ear. "p.u.s.s.y."

He paused at that for a second.

"Who are you?" he whispered.

I lifted my head and stared at him, my thrusting slowing down.

"Who do you want me to be?" I answered.

He frowned and I felt another surge sweep through me, pus.h.i.+ng my control to the outer edges of my mind. I almost said I was sorry but it didn't come out in time and I took a swipe at his face with my hand. I left four scratches behind that slowly began to seep blood from his cheekbone.

Grinning at his shock and the damage I inflicted, I lifted my other arm. I knew I could do better. He deserved better. They all did.

Before I could do anything, though, his arm shot up and gripped my wrist so tightly that my hand folded open like a limp flower.

"That's enough," he growled, and with all of his strength he flipped me over so he was on top. I squirmed beneath him and had the idea that if I wanted to, I could throw him clear across the room. But something inside made me relent and the fire inside began to smolder as I felt control and reality flow back through my muscles.

We were both breathing hard, our faces nearly touching, his eyes sparkled with conflict as they looked into mine. The blood began to gather at the middle of the cuts on his face and chest, threatening to drip onto me. It made me feel a bit sick, something I hadn't felt when I was administering the damage.

"I'm all for fun, Perry," he said. "But sometimes I like to play nice too."

He gave me a small smile. The raise in his cheeks caused a drop of blood to fall on my own face. I grimaced and my face grew flush from embarra.s.sment instead of l.u.s.t. What the f.u.c.k had just gotten into me?

"I'm sorry," I said softly. I was ashamed.

"Darlin,' no apologies. Different f.u.c.ks for different ducks, as they say. Let's just...be nicer to each other. Take it slower."

He took his thumb and wiped away the splash of his blood on my cheek. "Now we're even."

I managed to laugh at that. Then he kissed me and we started all over again. The rush of anger and the uncontrollable surges of power I felt earlier were mercifully kept at bay. We took it slower this time. I couldn't come because I was too afraid to let go this time around but it was nice. And something I desperately needed. Who knew that lack of s.e.x would lead to violence? But the slower pace seemed to satisfy him, as he ultimately came in torrents. As he pulled out, peeled off the full condom and lay down on the sheets beside me, I made a mental note not to go so long without getting laid.

Before I got too comfortable I hopped out of bed and did an awkward, naked scurry out of his bedroom and into the hallway, where I grabbed my bag and quickly slipped on my pajamas in the bathroom.

By the time I came back into the bedroom, Maximus was deep under the covers and snoring slightly. Figures.

I got in beside him and turned my body in his direction, wanting to feel safe and close. As the traffic continued outside on the I-5, I fell asleep with a sense of bewilderment and a smirk of satisfaction on my face.

"You liked that, didn't you?"

My mind was a swirling pool of oil and shadows. I opened my eyes in time for a cold, wet breeze to brush against my face. It was the dead of night and I was standing on the same alcove by the river where Maximus and I had first made out. Only now I was standing on the thick, stone railing that lined the edge. The river sparkled in the dark ebb and flow beneath my bare feet. In the distance there was a clanging of church bells that never ceased.

"You want to lose control."

I carefully turned my head to the side without upsetting my balance. Abby was standing a few feet away, leaning forward on the cool stone, dressed in only a light pink sundress that ruffled in the winter breeze. She was looking down at the river; her eyes matched the water, dark pools of obsidian.

"You could just jump in, you know?"

"I'm dreaming," I said thickly, my voice sounding like it was coming from far away.

"You'll have all the time in the world to dream when you're dead."

She lifted her head and I saw that her eyes weren't black. They just weren't there. Like the pig's head, her eyeb.a.l.l.s were gone, leaving only dark, roughly cut sockets behind.

"What do you want from me?" I asked her in my surreal state. My tongue still felt swollen and too big to move. It was then I realized my body had moved one inch closer to the edge of the railing. I was moving without realizing it.

"We want you," she said simply. Her voice hummed like electrical wires.

"Who is we?" I went an inch closer and my stomach churned.

She walked over in her white heels that made a sharp noise with each footfall, even though she was floating a few inches above the ground. She stopped and looked back at the river. The clanging of the bells was growing louder.

"I don't know his name..."

"His?"

"I don't know it's name." She looked up at me sharply. "But I was promised."

"Promised what?"

One inch gone.

Abby smiled. As her mouth parted, two wasps flew out from it and up into the sky, their drones fading into the sound of the bells.

"Promised you."

My feet were now hanging over the edge of the rail, the water churning furiously below like a raging whirlpool ready to swallow me whole. It all pulsed with each clang of the unseen bells.

I took one last glance at Abby.

"Why me?"

Even with empty eye sockets, she managed to look surprised.

"Because it wasn't my fault I died," she said like I was an idiot. "It was his."

"Revenge," I whispered. The breeze took my words and carried them over the waves.

My feet moved another inch. There was nothing left to support me. I didn't even swing my arms to save my balance. I just fell silently to the side like an unsupported pillar, down, down, down to a river with teeth and black, lapping tongues.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

Even though I woke up the next morning to the tongue-melting smell of bacon wafting in from Maximus's kitchen and bright sunlight streaming in through the windows, the vague recollection of my dream was enough to maintain a low level of creepiness. I lay back in bed, listening to Maximus whistle Johnny Cash's "Understand Your Man", and pushed the dark and moldy images out of my head. I kept seeing the fathomless river rus.h.i.+ng to greet me, a whirlpool for a hungry mouth, the sound of indignation in Abby's metallic, Minnesota voice. The promise someone something had made to her. The promise to have me.

I shuddered despite the warmth of the bedroom and was relieved when Maximus called out from the kitchen, "Do I hear you stirring in there, suns.h.i.+ne? Breakfast is ready."

I smiled at his effortless tone and eased myself out of bed. My muscles, especially my thighs and arms, ached from their unexpected usage last night. Everything else though felt OK and I was in no pain.