Vision of Darkness (21 page)

The fire cracked and snapped, accompanied by the carnal beat of slick flesh against flesh. He pushed her higher and higher, took her to the precipice, but wouldn’t let her go over. Not yet. He wanted—needed more of her. He’d missed her so much, all these years … he thought he’d lost her, only to find her again like this, in this place.

I love you.

She gasped his name, her fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulders. A second before he exploded, he felt her shatter too.

CHAPTER 22

Alex collapsed and buried his face in the silk of her hair, brain still a little hazy, working on processing the primitive need to fill the empty space within Pru back into civilized, coherent thought. Difficult transition. Coated in sweat, every inch of his skin felt on fire and every nerve ending tingled. His bad knee ached but, basking in the afterglow of not just one, but two rounds of mind-bending sex, he hardly noticed.

His primal brain considered a round three and he took a second to visualize all the positions they had yet to try. She was a wonderfully flexible woman.

Hah. Nice fantasy, but when he shifted to lift his weight off her, his muscles protested the movement. His bones had melted to the consistency of gelatin.

“Ah, God,” he muttered. “I don’t think I’ll be able to move again for days.”

“Well, I hope so.” Tugging on his ear, she grinned and pulled his mouth over to hers. “You don’t think I’m through with you yet, do you?”

Flexible and insatiable. He’d hit paydirt.

Alex caught her lower lip between his teeth. “I hope not. But I do think I’m gonna need an intermission.”

“That’s too bad. I have plans for you.” With amazing agility, she had him on his back and was straddling his stomach, her nipples puckered against the cold air. Eyes closed, she dragged her hands up and down his chest, tracing the lines of his body as if savoring the feel.

He shivered. “Jesus, your hands are freezing. Let’s get under the blanket.”

“It’s okay.” She pushed him back as he tried to sit up, and rubbed herself against his stomach. Wet, ready, and willing. Her hand drifted down to cup his balls and he sucked a surprised breath through his teeth. He didn’t know how it was possible so soon after the second time, but he was already hard again, wanting her even worse than before.

Relaxing, he let his own eyes drift shut and enjoyed the massaging caress of her body against his. “God, baby, you feel so good.”

“Mm, so do you.” Her fingers walked up his chest, traced his collarbone. “So why did you leave me?”

“Leave you?” He clamped his hands around her hips to still her. Her skin was ice and the first fissure of reality cracked his lusty daze, the first inkling that something was not quite right. He stared up in bewilderment, but she kept her eyes shut tight.

Not right!
his inner cynic shouted.
Not Pru!

Alex glanced around as panic bubbled. The ragged, sea swept landscape looked the same and yet … somehow … it twisted grotesquely out of focus.

“Wait. Pru, stop. Look at me. Wh—” Her hand curled around his neck, squeezed hard, and cut off his breath. “Pru—”

He tore at her fingers but they cut into his flesh. Choking him. Crushing him.

Her lids opened and if he had any air in his burning lungs, he would have screamed. Empty sockets gaped at him, nothing but dark, soulless pits where she should have eyes. She grinned and the skin around her soft mouth split, peeled back, and disintegrated, leaving glossy white bone.

“Do I look like Pru?”

Laughter echoed. Alex bucked and twisted, tried to wiggle away from the demonic thing straddling him. It let go of his throat and he scrambled backward crab-like, gasping in giant gulps of air.

“Alex!”

A pale hand touched his face. The scream that had lodged in his throat during the dream came out a dry croak.

“Alex.” Pru framed his face in her hands and held him still. “Breathe! You’re okay. You had a nightmare.”

In the back of his mind, he knew she was telling the truth, but God, it didn’t feel like a dream, not like the others. It was different. For a moment, it had been real.

“It was a nightmare,” she whispered, stroking his face.

“Yeah. A nightmare. Hell.” He pulled her into his arms and held her close, touching her all over to make sure she was the real Pru and not another grotesque figure of his imagination. Warm and supple, she melted in his arms and returned his affections with enthusiasm that was not in any way strange. He felt everything from the flutter of her lips against his skin to the power of the climax he drove her to with his hand, and contented himself that he was indeed awake again.

What was wrong with him? He’d always had disturbing dreams, as far back as he could remember, but never anything like the ones he’d been having lately.

“Alex?” 

He jerked in surprise at the sound of her voice—he’d thought she was asleep—and then cursed himself for it. He had never been a man to jump at boo, but his nerves felt raw. Though he’d accept a bullet in the brain before admitting it, everything about this damn town freaked him out.

He smiled at Pru, trying to smooth over his reaction with nonchalance. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Do you want to talk about your nightmare? Sometimes it helps.”

For a moment, he considered it. Then remembered the twisted, sexual nature of the dream and the empty eye sockets and shook his head. She’d probably draw the same conclusion he had. He was going nuts.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment in the one word was almost imperceptible, as was the slight shift of her body away from his, but he noticed both and grimaced. He tightened his hold, unwilling to let her put distance between them. “It’s not because I don’t trust you enough to confide in you.”

“Yes, it is. You don’t trust anyone.” She laughed, surprising him by the ring of bitterness to it. “I hoped tonight changed that for you. That you could come to trust me.”

“I do.”

She made a noncommittal sound and rolled over in his embrace, giving him her back.

He really did trust her, he told himself. Absolutely, without a doubt. He struggled for the words to tell her that, to fill the heavy silence, but came up blank.

“No. You know what?” She sat up and faced him, a determined set to her chin. “This conversation isn’t over yet. If we’re going to continue this thing between us, you’re going to talk to me. Why are you so sad all the time?”

If she had hauled off and punched him, he’d have been less surprised. “Sad?”

She nodded. Her blue eyes clouded as they searched his face. “Except for right now. You don’t have that darkness in your eyes. You really are happy right now, aren’t you?”

He threaded his fingers through her hair. Tried to smile, but she’d touched on a raw topic and the smile felt forced. “Why wouldn’t I be happy? Having you here with me, Pru, it’s—” He couldn’t find the right word.
Beautiful. Amazing.
Everything he came up with sounded inadequate.

“But you are usually sad,” she insisted. “Even when you’re laughing, I can tell you’re crying deep down. Even when you’re with other people, you’re so alone. I don’t want you to be alone anymore, Alex. Please, talk to me.”

Talk. Yeah, he could do that. She just might not like what he said. But he trusted her, dammit. He did.

“I’ve seen a lot of bad things.” Okay, so saying the words didn’t hurt too bad after all. He could do this. “I’ve done a lot of bad things. I was with the good guys but…Still. It’s stuff I guess I can’t really reconcile with.”

“While in the military?” she asked, stroking a hand down his chest.

Alex thought of the restaurant on Tremont, the fuck-up that had led him to Three Churches. “And after.”

She picked up the bullet he wore next to his crucifix, and rubbed the smooth copper between her fingers. “I’ve seen this before. A friend I had at the culinary institute wore a bullet too. He was a sniper.”

Alex lifted his head and studied the bullet as she rubbed it between her fingers. Like his crucifix, he didn’t know why he still wore the damn thing. “So was I.”

She turned the bullet over and dragged her thumb across the inscription etched into its side: D.I.E. “But you weren’t just a sniper, were you?”

“No. I was recruited to a special ops team straight out of sniper school. We, uh, had a very specific skill set. Detection, infiltration, and eradication.”

“Ah. I get it. Die. D.I.E.”

He nodded. “Our unofficial nickname became D.I.E. Squadron. It was kind of a morbid joke among the men, that we were sent behind enemy lines to die. That’s where I met Nick and Jacob. We did a lot of good together as a team, but honestly? Blowing out my knee and getting sent home early was the best thing that ever happened to me. If I pick up another rifle in this lifetime, it’ll be too soon.”

The fire cast deep, dancing shadows over Pru’s face. He saw nothing but gentleness and understanding in her gaze and before he realized it, the words he’d been unable to tell anyone else tumbled out. “I’m afraid.”

Goddamn, why did you say that? She doesn’t want a guy who’s afraid.
Alex steeled himself against a rebuff but she simply touched his cheek, a feather-light caress of skin on skin.

“Of what?” Pru asked.

Walloped by an unfamiliar jolt of emotion, his throat closed up and he had to swallow to relax it. “So many things. I’m afraid for you with all the shit that’s been happening around here. For my friends, because our part in the war’s over and somehow, we’re still fighting. And for my brother spending his life cooped up in an insane asylum.”

“What’s his name? Your brother.”

“Theo. He’s schizophrenic and getting worse. They have him on so many meds he’s a zombie most of the time. When he’s not, he rips legs off tables or chairs and threatens the hospital staff until they let him talk to me.” He gave a weak, self-depreciating laugh. “Pru, the things I’ve seen here…I’m afraid I’m going nuts and I’ll end up like him, like everyone else in my family.”

“You’re not crazy.” She propped herself on her elbow beside him, tracing her fingertips over his features in a soothing caress. The firelight played on her alabaster skin and her hair, tangled from their lovemaking, fell in wild disarray over her shoulders. “Everyone sees things here, Alex.”

“Ghosts—”

“—don’t exist. Yes, I know you want to believe that. But have you ever wondered if maybe Theo can see something beyond our plane of existence? And that maybe you can too.”

Every damn day.

He scrubbed at his burning eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I like logic and truth. I like knowing what’s real. You.” He spread his palm over her heart, felt the steady beat kick up as his fingers strayed over her rosebud of a nipple. “And me. What we have is real. I can feel it.”

Her lips parted with a soft exhale and then spread into a grin. “You must have been a poet in another life. Sometimes you say the most beautiful things.”

She leaned over, black hair spilling down, swathing them in their own cocoon as she kissed him. She straddled his stomach and he felt himself drift back into a lusty haze, all ready to have her for the third time until he realized she was shivering. He touched her arm and found the soft skin rough with goosebumps.

“Are you cold?”

“A little,” she admitted.

“We should go into the house.”

“But I don’t want to. I don’t want you to leave me yet.”

“Then I won’t.” He propped himself up on his elbows to kiss her. “Nick and Miranda should be asleep by now.”

She cupped his face in her hands and returned his kiss. “I wish I hadn’t invited them to stay. Is that horrible of me? I wish we didn’t have to sneak around.”

Always in the dark. He regretted he could never love her in the light ….

He shook off the nagging sense of déjà vu. “For the time being, we’ll make it work.”

“Miranda will want to go home today. She just needed a friend after John Jr.—”

“I understand.” Alex grinned and traced the curve of her breast. “And Nick’ll be easy enough to get rid of. I’ll tell him how much I want to flip you over the back of the couch and he’ll take off.” Even in the dark, he could see color rush to her cheeks. She was so damn cute when she blushed.

“Oh, God. Would you really say that?”

“Probably.” Alex patted her rear. “Let’s get dressed and go inside.”

They dressed as the fire sputtered, Alex pulling her over to nuzzle the dimpled dip of her lower back before she pulled her shirt down over it. “I love this spot. So sexy.”

“Mmm.” She started to melt—he felt the resistance seep out as he traced one dimple with his tongue—but she caught herself and swatted his head away. “Stop that. It’s too cold to get naked again.”

“I’ll warm you up.”

She let out a huff of exasperation and twisted from his embrace. “Horndog. If you had it your way, we’d both catch our deaths out here. How do you plan to put the fire out?”

Grinning, he stood, pulled on his own shirt and considered the problem of the fire.

Planned this out well, bozo
.

No dirt or sand on the rocky outcroppings to smoother the flames. Plenty of water, but no way to carry it. He rubbed the back of his neck, then bent to scoop up the rumpled blanket still spread out on the rock at his feet.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any special fondness for this blanket?” He did—it smelled of sex, each of their essences combining in a tantalizing perfume on the fabric—but he consoled himself that there would be other blankets carrying the scent. Soon. “We could wet it down, use it to smother the fire.”