Authors: Cheryl McIntyre
The room lights then and he is staring at her. He releases her arm and m
oves to a high backed chair. His
mov
ements
are graceful as he pulls
the chair out
and sits
leisurely. He gestures
for
her to sit, but she is paralyzed by the crawling under her skin. Se
eing this, he moves his fingers
like a beauty queen waving in a parade. The sensation ceases and Keely sighs in relief.
“How do you do that?
Why
do you do that?”
“I do
not do it purposely. It is our blood. I
t
sings to one another.”
“That’s never happened around Apophis,” she says quietly. Her hands are shaking. She folds them
around her.
“Apophis? You two have met?”
“Met? Yeah, we’re old friends,” she states dryly.
He gazes at her for an
agonizingly long moment. “You a
re friends? I doubt that somehow.”
“Wow. Nothing gets by you.”
He laughs
, one side of his mouth pulling up in a smirk
. “Sit.”
She sits across from him, though she wants nothing more than to find the exit to this place. His eyes brush over her intimately, causing a burst of goose bumps to floo
d across her skin. She cringes
and looks down at the table.
“What happened to you?”
Her
head
jerks up. “You psychopaths have been trying to kill me for the past two days. Or two years
,
really. And you patronize me. Well, here. I’m right here. Just do it and get it over with.”
His expression doesn’t waver. It remains the same,
relaxed and arrogant. “I did not
do that.” He le
ans forward
resting his elbows on the table. “Would you b
elieve me if I told you I was not
trying to hurt
you?”
“I wouldn’t believe anything that
you
said.”
“It’
s the truth. You have no idea how truly special you are. What you can potentially do…it will change everything.” He stares at her, gaze full of
excitement
. “Keely, you are safe with me. I swear to it.”
Her mouth pops open. “Oh, I believe you. Really. Now, how do I get home?”
He laughs again. She is annoy
ed that he is so breath taking
. “This is your real home. Please, stay. Stay and anything you wish for will be yours.”
She shakes her head. “All I wish for is to go home—back to Nick’s.”
“Nick is a dreadf
ul, predictable creature. Do
you
not
find him boring?”
“My life has been anything but boring since Nick came
into it,” Keely says calmly, b
ut calm is the farthest
sensation
from how she really feels.
He stands. Walks around the table and squats beside her. “Stay with me, Keely.” He takes her
hand. His skin is soft and cool
. She notices he smells s
weet.
Like his father. Her father.
Like everything in this place.
He smells
of
summer. Like fresh cut grass
,
and blossoming flowers
, and peppermint
. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply. Enjoys the scent.
Opens her eyes
meeting hi
s rich dark gaze
. She enjoys the sight of him. Enjoys his closeness. He moves his free hand up to her face. Fingers graze her cheek ever so lightly. She moves her face into his touch. His lips part into a smile. He releases her hand and cups her face, pulling her to him. She enjoys his touch. Wants to touch him back. Her hands lift slowly, steadily.
Her fingers
slide
down his jaw line. Down his neck. O
ver his collar bone. She takes pleasure in
touching him.
He lets out a breath. It is more than a sigh. His breath blows over her and she wants to taste him. They move at the same time, leaning into each other, her hands gripping his shirt.
Eyes falling shut as she p
ulls him to her.
She c
an hear the rushing beat of his heart. Her speeding pulse matches his. Pounding in unison.
She o
pens her eyes to darkness. Not just darkness. Pure blackness. As
her senses become
more alert,
s
he is momentarily disgusted with herself. How could she possibly be attracted to someone she know
s
is her family. Her brother. It is on
ly a moment though, because now
sh
e’s
aware of
the darkness moving around her. It presses against her with a forceful weight that makes it hard for her lungs to expand.
She can see the light around it. The familiar walls of Nick’s apartment on either side. Sees now that the blackness is in the shape of a person. A large man sitting on
her. But it’s not a man. It’
s smoke. There is a wetness to it though. Like a fog
. The stench is terrible. It smells similar to
spoiled milk as i
t rolls over her, smothering her.
She opens her mouth to scream and the blackness
rushes in
.
Thinning itself out
like a
snake, it hovers over her as it continues shoving
its way
into her mouth, slithering down her throat to her stomach. She struggles against it. It isn’t fog at all. It is solid and slimy. She cannot grasp it. Her jaw feels as if it is about
to break
in two
.
Keely’s
hands f
all helplessly to the bed, b
lack with an oily sludge. Her eyes beg to close as the room spins
around her. From somewhere far away
she hears a door open. Is someone shouting? Her eyelids
droop. She raises her eyebrows
attempting to keep her
eyes open. From her peripheral
she
sees Nick slash out at her. No, not her. The black snake. She feels it pause. Then it is retreating. Moving back the way it came, flowing out of her
in a rush. She gags on the end
or the beginning, she isn’t sure
which. All she knows is it’
s out and she can breathe. She turns her head, rolling to her side as
she
retch
es
inky slime.
Cool hands pull the hair away from her face and off her neck. “It’s o.k. You’re all right. Get it all out,” Nick soothes.
She looks
up at him through her tears
.
She can feel the running mascara burn her eyes. Nick uses the end of his tee shirt to wipe her mouth. She flings herself off the bed. Crushes herself into him,
hugging
him,
grateful to be alive.
**
*
Bryon
moves quietly around the apartment building to Nick’s only window. Lowers himself to the ground and peers i
nside. He blinks in surprise at
what he sees. Keely and Nick are
locked together in an embrace. He wipes dirt away from the window, sure he is seeing wrong. The image doesn’t change. She is nearly sitting in his lap on the floor. Nick rubs his hand up and down her back. Bryon pushes himself up from the ground and jogs back to his car. That had been the last thing he
expected.
All this time he thought she didn’t like
be
ing
touched. That it reminded her of the night she was attacked. He understood that. He never pus
hed it. Now he truly understands. She just can
’t
sta
nd to be touched by him.
At least she’s all right. That’s what he wanted to see. Now he knows. She obviously is recovering nicely.
Bryon starts the car. Slams it into gear. Drives all the way home. It’s not until h
e pulls into the driveway that
he realizes he has no memory of the ride. He had been too lost in thought.
He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and looks for a number in his call log. Finding it, he blows out a long breath and hits send.
“Bryon
Hill? To what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?” Dana purrs on the other end of the line.
“Dana, believe me, the pleasure is all mine. Are you doing anything right now?”
“Absolutely,” she
says, her voice dropping to a
breathy whisper. “I’m waiting on you.”
**
*
Keely stands under the hot water spr
aying from the shower head for so long her fingers prune
. S
he scrubs away all the black ick
. Then washes herself all over again. Tying a towel around her, she brushes her teeth three times, then
rummages through the medicine cabinet until she finds mouth wash. Gargles twice. Wipes the steamed mirror and stares at her reflection. The hair dye is nearly gone. Streaks of blond showing through. She brushes her hair, tearing through it and enjoying the pain it causes. It brings her back to reality. There are dark circles under her eyes. Her skin seems almost gray. The color of her lips is w
rong too. They are more purple
than their usual pink. She looks terrible.
Her outside matching her inside
.
She looks back to her eyes. They aren’t
the green
they should be. Instead they are black as pitch
. She le
ans closer, inspecting,
sees no other color to her eyes. Decides
her pupils are merely
dilated from the concussion.
Keely dresses in thin cotton pajama shorts and an oversized tee shirt that used to be her dad’s. Her real dad, the one who raised her, not the sperm donor. She feels dizzy as she bends ov
er to pick up her dirty clothes
so she decides to leave them and wobbles out of the bathroom.
“You look like crap,” Nick comments.
“Thanks. You’re great
at making a girl feel good about herself.” She sits on the floor—the futon is wet where Nick washed the spots of goo and vomit. “You need some furniture.”
“
I have noticed that. How’
s your head?”
“Dizzy and sore.”
“
How about the other thing?
Your stomach?” He cringes as
he says it. She shivers at the horrible memory.
“Actually, as weird as it may sound, I’m really hungry.”
Nick smiles at her. “I can’t imagine why. You haven’t eaten in what? Like twenty-four hours? Probably longer. I don’t have much.” He turns into the kitchen.
“
You want some eggs?”
Keely misses fruit
s
and vegetables. She shakes her head. “Can we go to the store?” She’s pretty sure she has some cash on her. She has a credit card for emergencies
as well. T
his should qualify
.
Nick walks back
to stand in front of her. He’
s staring. “What?”
Exhaling loudly, he says,
“I just don’t know if you should be going out. You’ve been attacked three times in the past two day
s. You have a concussion and you
look like hell. Your eyes even look funny. I think you should just rest.”
“I want to go to the store,” Keely says slowly, enunciating every word carefully, coldly. She doesn’t understand why she’
s
getting so upset, but she doesn’t care. He will not tell her no.
“Keely, calm down. I’ll just make you something. There has to be something in this apartment that you’ll eat.” Nick turns back to the kitchen and Keely is on her feet. She moves to the door quickly. Fumbles the lock
. Gets it open. Nick is there, pushing it shut before she can leave.
“What are you doing?” he hisses.
Without consciously committing to it, Keely’s arms strik
e out at Nick. She punches
him with shocking precision. Hits his mouth, then his nose. As she pulls back to deliver a third blow, he is pinning her arms down at her side
s
. Traps her against the door. She writhes, struggling against
him.