Death Springs Eternal: The Rift Book III (19 page)

A strange sensation came over him. He leaned against the wall, closed his eyes, and listened to his own heartbeat. Kyra’s face smiled back at him from behind his eyelids, and his pulse quickened.

He raced down the stairs, his socked feet dancing lightly from step to step. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, he spotted Kyra sitting at the table with Yvette. There was a candle between them, and in the flickering light he noticed every crease of age on her face, every streak of gray that daubed her red hair. In the past this might have bothered him.
But not now.
When he gazed at her all he saw was the woman he’d grown to love, the woman who had stuck by him when he was down in the dumps, the woman carrying his child. His breathing hitched and he felt on the edge of tears.

Kyra turned slowly, spotted him standing there and her lips curled into a grin. Even with the blemishes of time, her skin glowed.

“What’s up hun?” she asked.

Josh watched his toes as he shuffled from foot to foot. “I’m tired I think,” he said.

“You should go to bed then.”

“Yeah, but it’s
dark
here.”

Both Kyra and Yvette laughed.

“Scaredy cat,” said Kye.

“I know.”

He glanced up in time to see Yvette slap at her arm, which was followed by Kyra rubbing the spot in feigned shock. The mousy woman then gestured with her head.

“You want me to come with you?” Kyra asked.

Josh nodded.

She giggled.
“For protection, right?”

“Something
like
that.”

“’Vette, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, kay?” Kyra patted her hand, then swung her legs around in her chair and grunted as she stood up. She wore loose-fitting blue pajamas made from some sort of satin derivative, and the fabric clung to her belly, revealing its roundness, making it shimmer in the candlelight. Josh held his breath. He couldn’t explain why, but seeing her like that, all bloated and waddling, actually made him want her more than ever.

His hand slipped over hers, and he led her through the living room to the other side of the house. There was a sort of enclosed pantry over there, a spot Josh claimed for his own when he first searched the premises. It was a large space, with various junk resting against the walls. There’d even been a cot in there, large and antique with a wooden frame. Josh had laid it open, dusted it off as best he could, and set it up for bedtime.

Stopping Kyra at the entrance to the pantry, Josh knelt down, removed a couple candles from his backpack, and set them up on either side of the cot. He lit them, and the flames combined with the moonlight that shone through the upper windows to create a sensual glow. Kyra whistled, and he looked up at her.

She smiled, gentle and a bit sad, and said, “Oh, Josh…”

“You like it?”

“I do. But I’m not sure if I’m…you know…”

Josh shook his head, stripped off his t-shirt and pants, and slipped beneath the covers. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “We don’t have to do anything. I just want to be close to you right now.”

Kyra chewed on her bottom lip while she undid the buttons on her pajamas. The top came off, revealing her swollen belly and protruding bellybutton, as well as her much-larger-than-usual breasts. She had to sit down to take off her pants and underwear, but eventually she managed, even shooing Josh away when he offered to help. Then she slipped under the sleeping bag, her back to him.

He draped his arm around her waist and their fingers laced together. His head pressed against hers, temple-to-temple, and it seemed as if their hearts beat as one.

“I love you, you know,” he heard her say.

“I know,” he replied.

They lay in silence for a while. Josh breathed in deep through his nose, picking up the somewhat sour odor of her skin beneath her perfume. It was sour in a good way, like blackberry brandy. He tilted his head forward and touched his lips gently to her neck, tasting her saltiness on his tongue. Kyra stirred and shifted, letting out what sounded like a sigh. Her back arched as he pressed his lips against her, harder this time. He kissed her over and over, from her shoulder to below her ear, and her breathing became faster. Her hips swayed forward and back, and a new scent filled his nostrils.

While he continued kissing her neck, she grabbed his wrist and guided his hand over her engorged belly, to where the kinky hairs
down there
parted. He felt slickness on his fingertips, and she then steered his hand in a circular motion while he pressed down. Her breathing hitched, and a slight whimper escaped her lips. He slid his free hand out from under her, eased her hair off her face, and kissed her on the cheek, the corner of her nose, the edge of her eye. Her head turned to him and their lips met, their tongues performing a dance all their own. She ground into him, hips rocking, yet their lips never parted.

She released his wrist, and his swirling motion picked up its pace. She bucked even harder now, until her hips locked, her entire form thrown into a mad quiver. From the way she groaned—manically, not pained—it seemed as if she was biting down on her tongue to stop from making any more noise than she already did. Their lips separated, and Josh opened his mouth, only to have her finger press against his lips.

“Yes,” she whispered, and inched all the closer to him.

Entering her was like entering a hidden kingdom beneath the sea. Pressure held him, squeezed him,
massaged
him to ecstasy. Both his arms wrapped around her, his Kyra, his love, and for a span of time that seemed much too short, they ceased to be separate entities any longer, existing in a single space with one heart, one mind, one ardor.

It was over quickly, and afterward they lay together, constantly touching each other. Josh stroked her hair while she placed tender kisses on his forearm. Soft clanking sounds reached his ears as the rest in the house packed away their supplies and readied for bed. After that all was silent but the clamor of nature outside and their mutual breathing.

“I have to pee again,” Kyra murmured.

She rolled out of the cot, blew out the candle beside her, and he watched her silhouette as she shuffled over to the plastic bucket in the corner and squatted. The hollow ping of fluid splashing against the bottom of the bucket followed, and his lover sighed.

In a matter of moments she was back in bed, facing him this time. He closed his eyes as he lay on his back, her head resting in the crook of his armpit. His fingers stole up her spine, caressing her, and before too long he heard a low, guttural snore vibrate through her nose. Her chest rose and fell, pressed against his own, massaging him into drowsiness. He placed a hand on her head, feeling the greasy softness of her hair, and kissed her on the forehead.

“Forever,” he whispered.

Exhaustion forced his eyelids to close, and sleep followed soon after.

*
  
*
  
*

“I’m connected,” the voice said.
“To everything.”

Josh glanced around him, feeling at ease. There was coarse sea grass beneath him and a blue sky above. Waves crashed on the beach while seagulls cawed. The wind whistled across his ears. His skin felt tight, warm, prickled with salt. It was the perfect vision of tropical bliss, and his mind bristled with familiarity. In a matter of moments, the voice that had woken him was forgotten.

He stood up, the sand hot and smooth between his toes. He wore nothing but a pair of shorts, and it amazed him, as he glanced down at his bare chest, how thin he’d become. It was like he was a different person, more capable and athletic than he’d been since his youth, though carrying with him the sort of adult comprehension only experience could bring.

He strolled down the beach, as close to the water as he could get without getting soaked, eyes scanning the retreating surf for colorful shells. It was a ritual he’d performed often when voyaging to the New Hampshire seacoast with his family, when he’d taken a young Sophia by the hand, hoping to impart to her the beauty and mystery of the wide, intimidating ocean. His sister had taken to the task with enthusiasm matching his own, and their beach trips became bonding exercises that would last until the day Sophia died.

Yes, his sister was gone—as were his parents and most everyone else he’d ever known. He sighed and lifted his eyes to the sky, watching a pair of birds perform an aerial ballet, dipping and soaring as they chased each other across the horizon. Gone, but not forgotten. They were in a better place now, and he took solace in the fact that his grief didn’t engulf him in steel jaws and bind him to the ground while his tears irrigated the sand.

He shivered, shook off the onset of sorrow, and continued on. The beach stretched out in either direction for as far as he could see. He paused, the thought coming to him that he didn’t know why he was here, didn’t know where he was supposed to go. He was about to turn around, but then an image came to him—a lone figure off in the distance, sitting in the sand, gazing at the endless sea. An aura of calmness surrounded the form, an impression of innocence and piety that drew him in. His feet picked up their pace and before long he was running.

The stranger grew larger and larger in his vision, until he could make out the long, slender shape of a woman, dressed in a tank top and jeans, sitting cross-legged while her dark hair fluttered in the breeze. She glanced his way, not smiling but not frowning either, her dark brown eyes twinkling in the sunlight. The corners of her lips curled and her nose, large and beautifully rounded, crinkled up. She brushed the hair away from her ears and leaned back, bracing her arms behind her. Her breasts pushed against the fabric of her tank top as the wind blew, hugging her frame, revealing ultra-womanly curves. Josh was breathless before her.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” he replied.

“You heard me call you.”

“Did I?”

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”

“I guess so.”

The girl closed her eyes and lifted her chin, making her appear that much more sensual—the vision of a Harlequin romance, waiting for her lover as the surf approached her toes, looking forward to the moment he’d swallow her up in his arms and ravage her. She then leaned forward and gazed at him.

“Uh-uh,” she said. “Not now.”

He
giggled,
feeling blood rush into his cheeks, and shook his head. “Marcy,” he said, “it’s good to see you.”

“Same here.”

Again her eyes drifted to the ocean and they sat in silence, he playing with the sand before him while she remained stiff as a statue. It seemed like hours passed, or maybe it was only seconds. A bizarre sense of tranquility came over him, as if he was always meant to be right there, right then, and nowhere else. His heart rate quickened, and guilt started pouring in. There was so much he wanted to say to her, so much he needed to get off his chest.

“Marcy, it really is good to see you,” he said instead.

She chuckled and rubbed her neck. “Yeah, you just said that,” she replied. “It’s been a while. What, ten years?”

“Something
like
that. But it’s strange. At times it feels like not that long ago.”

“I know.
There’s
definitely some weird things going on to make you feel that way.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Dreams.”
She looked at him, and her eyes narrowed.
“Visions.
Insight.
Connection.
You know what I’m saying.”

He shook his head. “Actually, I don’t.”

Another laugh.
“Of course not.
So full of anxiety, so
me-first
. You were always like that. It’d be just like you not to see the bigger picture. I should’ve expected that.”