Heavy Metal Heart (9 page)

Like iron to a magnet, the power within her drew to his touch. The scattered sensations focused on the connection of their bodies. The heat she’d felt during their sex was only a fraction of what blazed through her now. Red and gold flashed, but it had nothing to do with the lighting in the club. It was the same as she’d seen on the street with him. Lancing through the light were veins of shining black. They pulsed with more energy, connecting her to Trevor. All the unreal things she’d seen seemed suddenly ordinary. Because she now
felt
unbelievable. She was as incredible as invisible monsters or man/beast rockers.

His presence was all around her. “Let’s get you to a VIP.”

“Can’t move.” It was like she was filled to the top of her skull with nitroglycerin. The smallest jolt would set her off.

“Slow.” He took one step, showing her the direction. “I didn’t know how hard it would hit you.”

“Sledgehammer hard.” Collecting her courage, she learned to walk again. One step, then another. The power shifted in her. She focused on Trevor at her side, his stable strength.

They mounted the stairs. It seemed she could climb forever, into the stars, past them into darkness.

His steady voice cut through the noise of the club. “I remember playing trumpet in a big band with the USO in Europe during World War II. Those GIs had gone through so much, seen such terrible things and needed so much relief. Their applause after the show was like nothing I’d felt. Thought I’d shatter. But it was worth it.”

“What...what did you do with all the p-power?” It seemed there’d be no way to harness it.

“It fueled my performance. My next few solos were so wild, they nearly got me kicked out of the band.”

At the top landing, Trevor guided her toward a dark doorway, the first of many along this floor. How many doors had been opened and closed behind her this night? Each was an escalation. But for the first time, she didn’t enter into the unknown.
She
was the unknown.

Misty reached out and opened the door. The night had started with her choice. Now she had more power. To what end, she had no idea. Whatever was coming, she could knock down walls, or topple cities or ruin civilizations. Or she could tear into Trevor and see how much power they had together. They entered the dim private VIP suite and she closed the door behind them.

* * *

When she’d walked into the Rascal, her impact nearly derailed him from “Infernal.” The tall red-haired beauty captured all his attention. That unknown power grew every second he’d come to know Misty. More than being his Muse, she captivated his mind and sparked his inspiration. To know her more. And to discover what their bodies could learn together.

Closed into the VIP room with the curtained walls, he felt how her power had grown. They’d fed, and she radiated the essence of human strength. Resilience, invention, and the animal as well. But she was more than human. Her transformation continued, moving her closer to what he was. He’d never seen a gold so warm as emanated from her. The red energy was hot. Black veins reached between their bodies, tying their pulse together.

He sat on one of the plush couches, concentrating the energy he’d just collected from the audience. The trouble was still out there. But he was uninterested in the flat-panel TVs showing closed-circuit images from the club. There was nothing on earth more intriguing than Misty.

She paced, the power rippling through her. “This is what it feels like all the time? I don’t know what to do with all the...electricity? Strength?”

“Never had to talk someone through this before,” he said. “But you’ll need the power. The Philosophers—”

She stopped pacing and leaned close, her hands on his shoulders. “Tell me about those fuckers.”

He guided her to sit next to him, but she could hardly keep still. “That revelry you just felt, the connection with the audience and their pure abandon, that’s everything the Philosophers hate. As mankind moved further away from the animal and closer to rational thought, the Philosophers grew in power.”

“They’re Puritans?”

“Like that, but not tied to a specific religion. They only wish to make man live entirely in the mind and consciousness. The body is disgusting to them. They have no form. It’s like they’re made out of pure thought energy.”

“So how the hell did he smash my car? And I saw you beat that one to death.”

Ice blasted through his veins as he remembered how close the Shroud had come to killing her. The image of her being hurt made him want to crush the throats of all the evil out there. “That wasn’t a Philosopher. It was a Shroud. One of their tools.”

She sprang to her feet and paced again. “So the Philosophers have no flesh, they call these Shrouds to do their dirty work.”

The void he’d been singing about for years was being filled. Misty understood the ways of his world quickly, and belonged there. “Exactly. Living in only consciousness, the Philosophers mastered dark magic. Twisting the laws of nature to their use. They’ve killed some of us, and we’ve taken them in defense. A secret battle, thousands of years long. Sometimes, when they’re desperate enough, a Philosopher will take on a host body. That’s the only time you can hurt them.”

“You’re the worst.” She stopped pacing and pierced him with her eyes.

Even if his flesh was torn off, he wouldn’t stop fighting to protect her. He stood. “I didn’t mean to bring you into this.”

“No, no.” Her look softened and she put her hand on his chest. “You must be the worst. That’s what they hate. You demons bring out the beast in us. If they kill you, then man won’t be tempted.”

“But they’re wrong,” he said. “If they kill us off, they kill mankind off too. The human animal can’t be all one thing or another. They need to live in balance.”

“I wasn’t balanced. It was killing me.”

It burned him to think of her trapped in a world she didn’t make. “And now?”

She spoke from a distance. “I don’t think I’m human anymore.”

“You are—” a Muse, temptress, goddess, sinner, savior, lover, “something this world hasn’t seen.”

Her fist balled into his shirt. “I don’t know what that means. My old self is dead.”

“Remake yourself.”

A tear welled in her eye. “Just as easy as turning my arm to solid oak?” Still holding his shirt, she shook him.

“All that power, it’s yours. The audience fed you.” He set his feet, not letting her shake him anymore. “Take it. Shape yourself. What do you want?”

“I want...” The tear released, streaking down her cheek. “I want to not be afraid.”

“You weren’t afraid to find me tonight, long before you tasted this power. It shouldn’t change you. It just feeds the strength you already have.”

Vesuvius had redrawn the map before his eyes. All that fire and fury was nothing compared to watching the smile grow across Misty’s face. Her quick fingers wiped away the single tear. More life flared in her eyes. She became still, a calm before eruption. With swift strength, she pushed and he let them topple onto the couch.

Her mouth found his. All the sustenance he’d just drawn from the crowd was stale water compared to the rushing life Misty brought him. Overwhelming. In only a few hours, she’d become his singular focus. His thirst would never be satisfied. It was true—he was ready to die so she could live. But he needed many more years of crashing against her.

The kiss deepened. Their mouths opened. He tasted her tongue. She nipped at his with her teeth. Pulling away from the kiss, she pinned his shoulders to the back of the couch.

Her eyes were wide with discovery. “Everything you whipped up from the crowd was just a little taste. From you, I’m getting so much more.” Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “I’m not weak anymore.”

“You never were.”

“The power’s...intoxicating.” She straddled him.

“That’s what got you into the alley, after me. You shouldn’t have seen us through the haze. We created that to cover our exit.” He held his hand up. A column of fog rose from his palm. Predawn, a living forest. Predators hunted and prey fed warily. Moss and trees breathed. Everything shrouded in mist.

The fog twisted and danced away as she placed her hand over his palm. “I need you rock solid.”

Their hands curled together, gripping tight. Using him for leverage, she slowly ground her hips. He rose up to meet her. Even with this small contact, it was clear how her body had changed. Their sex before was an avalanche. Now they could move mountains.

She leaned her head down, her hair loose around her face. It moved with her, giving him glimpses of her eyes, her mouth. Like a chase through a forest, only seeing fragments of the woman between the rushing trees.

“How do you keep your clothes on?” She rolled her hips faster against him. “All this energy, I just want to fuck forever.”

“We can.”

She didn’t slow her pace. “You tell all the groupies that.”

“You’re no groupie.”

“Because of your legends.”

“There’s only you now.”

“Because of fate.”

He took her other hand in his and held them tight to his chest. “Because you’re Misty.” Bucking up and twisting, he spun her body so she sat with her back to his chest. He still gripped her hands, wrapping his arms around her chest.

“Green Eyes,” he whispered. Kissing her neck, biting the flesh. Breathing her in. “Harpsichord, guqin, bouzouki—I’ve been writing songs about those eyes forever. Now I can write songs about you.”

She pressed back against him, swiveling her hips. Too much damn denim. They should be naked, her ass against his rigid cock.

He continued. “Now that I have you in my arms.”

“Now that I have someone strong enough to hold me.”

She was strong too. Testing him, moving her body under his grip. And her pace increased. She slid her ass along his crotch. He released one of her hands and palmed her breast. She pulled in a breath. Cotton and nylon continued to block him from her flesh. His fingers dived past the neckline of her shirt, and under her bra. Her tight nipple waited for him. She arched her back as he ran his finger around it, pinched it.

Holding her down would make her disappear. Even before she knew about the supernatural world, she’d sought to break free before she suffocated. He released her other hand. She ran her fingernails down his forearms. For flesh that absorbed tattoos, making them disappear in a matter of months, it felt as if her marks would last on his skin forever.

She gripped his hips, pulling him tighter to her. No, she wouldn’t leave. Not just yet. But he might have to, if it meant saving her life.

Maybe she’d save him.

Music from the club shook the room, muted by the curtains. Throbbing bass blanketed them. She rolled her hips over his. He moved his free hand down her chest and belly. Damned button. Damned zipper. He almost damned her panties as well, but discovered she wasn’t wearing any as his fingers edged along the top of her open jeans.

She reached over her shoulder to lace her fingers through his hair. Pulling him close, she turned. Her lips brushed against his.

“How hot can we burn?”

“The blaze of a festival fire.” Imagining the sparks dancing into the night sky, he pushed the heat through his hand on her. Gradually at first, testing her. With a moan, she nodded.

He increased the heat, sliding his hand farther into her jeans. She tilted her hips up to meet him. Her own fire licked back at him. Slick. Her folds were already dripping. He glided along them, and when he rubbed against her clit the spark shuddered through her.

She tightened her grip on his hair. Kissed him with an open mouth. Breathed her moan into him. Veins of black light surrounded them, pulsing red and gold power through their bodies.

“Hotter?” he asked.

A nod. He gathered more heat in his hand. With the energy she gave him, the elements were so easy to find, and stronger than he’d ever felt. Normal flesh would’ve blistered. She was beyond human. Her own burn almost matched his. He played with the heat, spreading it over her pussy, plunging it inside with his finger.

She gasped, then bit his lip. “This fire tastes like almonds.”

“From Crete. The wood of pruned almond trees.”

He circled her bud with the tip of his finger. She swiveled with the movement.

“Any hotter,” he told her, “we burn this place down.”

“I need that.” She spoke through quick breaths. “Burn this whole damn city down.” She ground harder against him.

“We can be hot, we can be as cold as the Kolva river.” That icy water shocked through his hand, chilling his flesh.

Misty called out with surprised pleasure and bucked in his grip.

“Bastard,” she gasped.

“Bastard who’s going to make you come.”

His cold fingers ran through her heat. There were no more protests. She breathed with rapid moans. He moved along her folds, around her pearl, plunging inside her. His fingers coaxed out all her pleasure. Faster, she pushed back against him. Harder, she gripped his hair. Hotter, her flesh blazed from the inside.

“Yes, fucking yes...” She pulled tight, body unmoving. One more breath, and another curse. His finger moved along her clit one last time. The climax broke through her. With her back arched, she pressed against his touch. Rapid gasps spilled from her.

He drained the cold from his hand. With normal flesh and bone, he felt her heat slowly diminished, dimming to a comfortable glow. She relaxed back into him. He kissed her neck and shoulder. Yes, she was the one who was just racked by an orgasm, but he was fed as well. As only she could, in waves of red and gold. Black lightning striking with each of their heartbeats.

Twisted together like this, it seemed a chisel from Hephaestus’s workshop couldn’t separate them. But neither of them chose this. Could they survive, their lives twisted together? He would never want her to be tricked or trapped into being with him. But to part meant both of them starving to death. And the Philosophers were still vying to kill her.

Those dark thoughts didn’t seem to dim Misty. She slowly shifted in his lap. He pulled his hand from her jeans. Her eyes were heavy lidded, her lips full and hair wild.