Lover Arisen, page 35
He nodded a little. Then looked her straight in the eye. “Promise me you won’t leave without telling me.”
As she considered what she had burdened him with, there was one and only one reply to give him. Reaching across the table, she put her hand on his.
“I promise,” she vowed.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Erika ended up leaving the silver Honda a couple of blocks over from CPD headquarters. Locking things, she took the key, and as she started walking away, she was struck by the fine spring air. Downtown could be nasty as a proverbial armpit—particularly in August, down by the restaurants, when the dumpsters became stews of decaying food—but not today. Even with the trucks rumbling by, and the cars, and the pedestrians who smoked, there was only the smell of earth and growing things.
As she walked up to the place where she worked, she paused and stared at the building. It was modern, but not in a contemporary architecture sense. Modern for the Caldwell Police Department building was rows of windows you couldn’t open, no adornments or design work anywhere, and six entrances with metal detectors in them. Basically every municipal structure erected in the sixties.
And yet it meant a lot to her.
Trey’s conversation had opened her eyes. Or maybe her new perspective was from Balthazar this morning when he’d accepted her brokenness so easily. Either way, she was seeing everything from a fresh viewpoint.
The idea that she was making a difference for people who had been through what she had? That was a balm of sorts to her pain—and one she hadn’t recognized she’d been applying to the scars she carried on the inside.
A solace she had instinctively identified and self-medicated with.
Funny, how you could take care of yourself without even knowing.
Heading down to the back of the building, she entered the parking lot. Trey had put her car at the far end, right in front of the impound dock. When she came up to it, the backup key fob was in the cup holders in the center console between the seats, just like he’d said. As she got in and started the engine, she felt like she should be checking in with someone. She supposed she had.
Leaving the lot, she glanced in her rear view and watched the gate arm fall back into place behind her. For a panicked moment, she worried whether she was going to have some instinct hit that told her these two or three days off were going to turn into forever. When nothing like that came, she was relieved, even though she’d never been psychic or anything.
The Northway was not that far, but courtesy of a broken water main, she got rerouted and then missed a turn. The next thing she knew, she was in a different part of downtown, less skyscraper, more upscale-ish retail. Passing by some of the shops, she saw things in the windows like dresses and pants and blouses—
The parking spot appeared from out of nowhere, the lineup of perma-parked, grille-to-tailpipe cars broken by a perfectly beautiful metered space.
Why she backed into the vacancy, she had no clue. And when she got out, she was still confused.
But then she looked at the facade of the Ann Taylor store and saw a dress… that also did not make a lot of sense. It was red. A bright red, with a deep V for the bodice and a skirt that was way too short—which for Erika meant it was just slightly above the knee.
“I don’t have any change to put in the meter.”
As she spoke, a guy walked by her and looked at her like he was wondering why he was being informed of this.
“Well, it’s true,” she muttered at his back.
Turning to her car, she told herself she did not need a dress, and most certainly not a dress like that—
The meter had thirty minutes left on it.
Glancing over her shoulder, she pictured herself wearing it in front of Balthazar. Except that was crazy. They weren’t going on any dates.
She needed to be practical and just let it go. God, one good night of sex and she was reimagining her whole life. How ridiculous—
Erika froze. At first, she wasn’t sure whether she was seeing things right. But a blink later, and nothing had changed: That guy with the blond-and-black hair, the one who had helped her save Balthazar’s life, was standing right next to the front entrance of the Ann Taylor store. He was unmistakable, really, and not just because of his size.
There was a glow about him, a shimmer that seemed to emanate from him.
He was staring at her… and then his eyes made a slow scan of her body, traveling from her head to her feet. When they returned to her face, his expression changed, shifting from a reserved mask to someone completely brokenhearted.
As if somebody close to him had just died.
Or he’d figured out she had terminal cancer.
Forgetting all about both parking and dresses she had no business buying, Erika pulled her coat closer to herself and started forward toward him. An uneven lip on the sidewalk caught the toe of her shoe, though, and she pitched forward, nearly pulling a pratfall on the concrete.
When she recovered her balance, the man—or whatever he was—was gone.
Dear God, what did he know about her that she didn’t?
* * *
Ten minutes later, Erika had thrown off that weird exchange she’d had out on the street, and she was in an Ann Taylor dressing room with not just the red dress, but two skirts, a set of leggings, three shirts that did not have a “t” in front of them, and a “kicky, fun wrap” that Kelley, her “sales associate,” had told her was just perfect for the transitional weather of April and May.
Transitional weather for Erika was rain before it turned to snow.
Apparently here in this store, however, it meant something altogether different—and further, all of the “transitional” clothes had to be color-coordinated to her “palette.” Which was not what you tasted dinner with. Oh, and she was a winter? What the hell did that mean?
She was a cold fish?
Ha! Balthazar had proven that one wrong. And then some.
Feeling like an idiot for trying anything on, she dumped her jacket, stripped off her pants and her fleece and shirt, and then shivered as she took the red dress off its hanger. It took a little more effort than she’d thought to square it on her shoulders and her waist, but then the thing was on her right. At least, she thought it was on right. Bending over to give the skirt another pull, she—
“What the hell?”
With a frown, she put her right foot up on the little chair in the corner of the changing room. On the inside of her ankle, there was a dark bruise that ran up to the base of her calf. Lifting the skirt higher, she found another on her knee.
Well, if that was the price she had to pay for the best sex she’d ever had? She’d wear the contusions with pride, damn it.
And hey… check her out. For once, she wasn’t running to Dr. Google to find out what dreaded disease she had. Ordinarily, she’d be convinced it was a sign she was—
She thought of the way that man had looked at her outside on the sidewalk. As a shiver of unease returned to her, she tried to push all the hypochondria away.
“What do we think?” Kelley asked on the other side of the privacy curtain.
Dropping her foot as well as the bottom of the dress, Erika smoothed things and refocused on her reflection. Of course this was going to be a no. Why would she think otherwise?
“It’s really low-cut.” She ran her fingers over her scars. They might as well have been a set of pearls she was trying to show off. “I don’t think it’s for me.”
“May I see?”
“Ah…”
After a moment, Erika pulled the curtain back mostly because the girl had been cheerfully pushy and she had a feeling that if she didn’t show the problem, there was going to be a lot of long, hypothetical discussions involving necklines.
Kelley smiled. “Oh, it’s—”
And then it happened, as of course, it always did. The drop of the eyes. The frozen expression. After which would come the symphony of sympathy that grated in the ears.
She should never have come here—
“The size is perfect for you,” Kelley said. “The waist is amazing and I wish I had your legs. Would it be okay to suggest something?”
If it’s plastic surgery, Erika thought dryly, I had them looked at a long time ago and the surgeon said there wasn’t much he could do about it all.
“I’ll be right back,” Kelley declared. “I hope you stay in the dress.”
The curtain was pulled into place, and oddly, that was the moment Erika realized that she hadn’t really noticed the woman. Not what hair color she had, what she was wearing, her height or weight. Erika was so incredibly out of her element that her mind was a sieve. All she could remember was the name.
Two minutes later, Kelley pulled the curtain back again—oh, interesting. The woman was in her early twenties and a redhead. Who knew.
“I think this will be perfect.”
When she held something out, Erika wasn’t sure what the object was: Shiny. Gold. A drape of… links.
“That’s a necklace,” she said stupidly.
“Yes.”
For some reason, Erika reached out and took it from the woman. As her hands were shaking, and Kelley stepped in behind her and helped her put it on.
And then Erika looked at herself in the mirror.
The dress was the same. The necklace made everything different: The links formed a loose pattern all the way down the V of the bodice.
If you knew there were scars, you could kind of see them. If you didn’t? You wouldn’t really notice them. All you’d see was a woman in a really kick-ass red dress.
Erika touched the links. Tilted her head at her reflection.
Then she turned around.
And hugged a stranger.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Down in Erika’s cellar, Balz was pacing back and forth in front of the washer-dryer units. With his cell phone up to his ear, he was ready for an argument, and on so many levels, he hated being at the mercy of another person.
But something hadn’t been right as Lassiter had left, and the angel was not answering texts or calls. So he was back at square one, with his instincts telling him that he needed to go back to basics. Devina wasn’t in him, but if he wanted to find out where she was… he felt like he probably could use the—
“Hello?”
Balz stopped walking. “Hey, sorry to wake you.”
“No, it’s cool.” Sahvage’s voice was quiet. “Let me get out of bed, though.”
There was some rustling, a couple of words spoken to the Brother’s shellan, then the sound of a kiss. After which, footfalls and a door closing.
“What’s up?” the Brother asked in a more normal volume. “Helluva night you had.”
“Guess you’ve heard, huh.”
“Yeah. Look, I know we have our differences of opinion, but God’s honest, I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks, man. And on that note… I gotta talk to you and I’m not trying to piss you off. Honest.”
There was a pause. “Let me get something first.”
There was more rustling. Then the shhhhscht of a beer getting opened. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t mean any disrespect.”
“Whatever it is, I believe that.”
“And I am not trying to shit on your parade.”
“Didn’t know I had one, but generally speaking, the less poop, the better in any situation, so thank you.”
“You know I don’t think the Book’s been destroyed.” Balz started up with the pacing again. “And before you tell me to fuck off, yes, I realize I wasn’t there when you and Mae were going rounds with Devina in that fire. But I’ve been to the site. There’s no way that thing was destroyed. No way—”
“You really need to talk to someone else about this,” the Brother cut in with exhaustion. “I’ve given my honest opinion, and I’m not interested in arguing with you—”
“Devina’s still alive as of a night ago. I saw her.”
Cue the pause. “Wait, what?”
“She stood right in front of me.”
Sahvage cursed and there was another beat of silence. “So I guess this is why we got a meeting scheduled before First Meal today, huh.”
“If she’s still around, so is the Book.”
The sounds of big gulps of beer were like a heart rhythm. And then a deep exhale came over the connection. “I guess I’m not really surprised. I’d had some hope, you know. But… whatever. I’ll fight her again. I don’t give a fuck—”
“Well, see, that’s why I called. I need your help.”
Upstairs, the sound of a door opening and closing was followed by footsteps he instantly recognized.
Balz spoke quickly, but he didn’t scramble his words. He made sure they were clear. And as the door to the cellar opened, he ended the call and looked up. Erika was standing at the top of the staircase, her body a dark silhouette.
“Hey,” she said. “Sorry that took so long, but I did some shopping. I’ve got no food in this house.”
“Hi,” he murmured. “You need help unpacking the car?”
“It’s too light out. It’s just after four, so give me a minute? I don’t want you to get hurt.”
He frowned as he wanted to bring all the groceries in. Like, for the rest of the woman’s life, he didn’t want a single bag in her hand. Ever.
“Okay,” he said with frustration. “I’ll wait here.”
The door shut again, and he paced like a caged tiger as he heard her go back and forth and back and forth across the kitchen. When there was a final door closing, over at the garage, he had some idea she’d come back down immediately, but she didn’t.
She was using the ladies room.
Finally, the cellar door opened once again. “So,” she said as she started to come down the steps, “I found my car and took a couple days off of work—”
He met her halfway and swept her into his arms. Bending her back, so that she relied on his strength to keep her steady, he put his lips on hers.
And kissed the ever-living shit out of his female.
When he paused to take a breath, she was panting. “You sure do know how to make a girl feel missed.”
All he could do was growl a little. Then he scooped her up in his arms and backed down to the floor.
“I did miss you.” He sat her on the armchair, knelt down in front of her, and started off’ing her shoes. “Here, let me help you out of these. You look really uncomfortable.”
“Do I?” Her smile was lazy. And hot. “You’re a mind reader, aren’t you.”
“I sure am.” He tossed one shoe over his shoulder. “And you know what you’re thinking right now?”
“Tell me.”
Balz tossed the other shoe over his other shoulder. “You’re thinking you wanted me to go down on you all afternoon, every second we were apart.”
As she gasped, he went to work on her pants, popping the button and then lowering the zipper. “Am I wrong?”
“Well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it when you—”
“Guess what?” He stripped off her pants—and took her panties with them.
“What?” she said breathlessly.
“I can also see into the future.” Balz lowered his chin and stared out from under his brows at her. “You’re about to have seven orgasms, right under my tongue.”
* * *
Erika went from hassled to desperately, sexually starved in the fifteen-foot distance between when Balthazar started kissing her on the stairs and when he put her into the chair. Or was she on the sofa?
Who the hell cared. She wasn’t on the floor, that was all she knew for sure.
And she was also half undressed.
And fully aroused.
“I think you’re right,” she moaned as he grabbed the backs of her knees and yanked her forward to him.
He hissed through his front teeth as he spread her legs by running his hands up the insides of her thighs. And then he lowered his head, curling that huge back of his forward. She felt the first brush of his lips on her knee. After that, they were where his palms had been.
Taking his time, he nipped and licked his way to her core.
She expected him to tease her.
Nope.
As she speared her fingers through his hair, in anticipation of having to pull his face right into her, he went for it himself.
She got a full-on seal of his lips, and the sucking sent her right over the edge.
Calling out his name, Erika threw her head back and yanked at his hair. Not that he seemed to notice or care. He just made love to her with his mouth, his nose, his face, and the harder she orgasmed, the more he made her come.
Which didn’t make any sense.
But it just proved that he was correct. He could see into the future.
She loved it so much that she was starting to come again already.
On his side, Balthazar was raw and unhinged, and he just kept at it, urging her to release more and more. And God, the sight of him between her legs, at her core, staring up at her as if he were drinking in her pleasure with his eyes? It was almost too much to bear.
It went on for what felt like hours. And when he finally lifted himself up from her, she was boneless and lying wide open, her sex throbbing and hypersensitive. But she wanted him to come, too.
Before she could tell him to take those sweatpants down, he yanked off the sweatshirt and then pulled the bottoms off, and she was treated to a spectacular show of muscle—that only got even better as he propped himself up with one hand and palmed his erection with the other.
“I want to fuck you,” he growled as he started to pump himself. “I want to fuck you so hard…”
He ejaculated all over her, the hot jets streaming down the folds of her sex, coating the insides of her thighs, hitting her lower belly. And then, when he should have been more than sated, he plunged into her core and pumped into her.
As he rode her hard, and she hung on to his sweat-slicked shoulders, she had a thought that this was not a man she was with.
