SEDUCTIVE SUPERNATURALS: 12 Tales of Shapeshifters, Vampires & Sexy Spirits (34 page)

I kept my mouth to his, so he would taste the fear and the thrill of my emotions while I drank the dark mystery he unveiled for me. Our bodies were slick with sweat as he struggled to please me while not hurting me and I fought to drive him beyond the ability to tell. I felt a building deep inside, a pounding of pressure, a swirling of tension that rose up and melted down until I was hot and trembling. My body arched in a dance Sawyer knew well, and he shifted, changing the rhythm of his music to make me writhe and tighten around him until we were both unleashed by the song. I heard my own cry and then his lower moan of release. He collapsed on top of me, his weight welcome in the aftermath of pleasure. I knew then that I would willingly spend the rest of my life seeking another chance to move him this way.

Diablo Springs: Chapter Thirty-One

Jonathan had one of Reilly’s arms twisted behind his back, held hard and tight and he pressed the long barrel to the base of Reilly’s skull. Every time he moved, the gun dug deeper, and it felt like his arm would snap out of its socket at any moment.

His eyes met Gracie’s as she watched in horror. Beside her, Analise stood, confusion and fear in her eyes. They had good reason to be afraid. All traces of the mild-mannered Mr. Rogers had vanished. The Jonathan who held him now was strong and deadly. All Reilly could think was how unfair it was that now that he’d found them, they’d be forced to watch him die.

The two horse-dogs jumped to their feet, teeth bared and barking. They couldn’t seem to make up their minds about what to attack, though.

“Call off the dogs or I’ll blow his head off,” Jonathan said calmly.

Gracie gave a sharp command and the two sat obediently, but they watched with eager eyes, just waiting for someone to make a move on their master.

Jonathan ground the gun point into his skull as Reilly scanned the room, looking for an out—or at the very least an out for Gracie and Analise. He didn’t know what would happen next, but he didn’t want them anywhere near it.

Two glowing orbs hovered on opposite ends of the room. The smaller of the two pulsed in a slow, stationary manner. The bigger one darted away and Reilly lost sight of it when it moved over his shoulder, but he could see the faces of the people around him, the horror in their expressions. He heard Jonathan suck in a deep breath and slowly let it out.

“There we go,” the man said softly, sounding like someone had just shot him full of heroine. At the same time, Brendan slumped into a chair, as if his knees had given out. All the while, the other light pulsed silently, watchful.

Chloe moved like she was in a trance, gliding to stand in front of the others, her face slack, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Aiken, is that you?” she asked.

Gracie visibly startled at the question. Reilly felt the blood drain from his face. A part of him had suspected it, dreaded it, but until he heard Chloe say the name, he hadn’t wanted to believe it.

“Will you speak with us, Aiken? Will you let us end this curse that follows us?”

“What curse?” Analise whispered.

Jonathan—Aiken—whoever it was beneath the older man’s skin said, “I want my share.”

“Daddy, it’s time for you to move on,” Chloe said, her voice softer, weaker. Pleading. “What use have you of worldly things? Go in peace. Find solace in the afterlife.”

Jonathan said nothing, but Chloe watched him with hope in her eyes. In that instant, Reilly understood that she’d been telling the truth all along. She wanted only to lay her ghosts to rest.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Jonathan said in a deceptively soft voice. “I tell
you
. Just because you’re old and shriveled doesn’t mean I won’t work you. You best remember that.”

The orb flared, as if agitated by the anger in Jonathan’s voice. Bill surged to his feet, glaring at Jonathan with clenched fists. The light grew brighter and brighter until it was nearly blinding.

The dizzying sensation of time slowing to a painful halt swept over Reilly. The walls around them seemed to draw in. The thick scent of smoke, malt, and unwashed bodies joined the heavy aroma of meat already in the air.

“Mom?” Analise said. Her voice sounded small and distant. “Do you hear that?”

Gracie nodded. They all heard it. Music and laughter, faint, like ice tinkling against glass. It came from all around them. Reilly shifted his gaze, looking through the stillness for the source of the sound. Something brushed against his legs, something else teased the sensitive skin behind his ears. The dogs growled and salivated, whining as they looked back to Gracie for a command. She remained rigid, watching Jonathan with all the fear Reilly felt. How could he protect her and Analise when he had no control?

The laughter seemed to grow louder, the smoke now a cloud over their heads. And in the sudden gloom, there was movement—people, just out of sight. Shadows danced against the walls, cast by objects he couldn’t see. He felt hands move against his shirt, like a woman’s touch trailing up his chest to his neck.

He cursed, but his voice was trapped beneath the thudding of his heart as the imagined caress became bolder and more demanding. The hands skimmed over his abdomen, down below his waist, taunting and seductive and blood-chilling. Christ, what was happening?

In the same instant, all the air was sucked from the room with such force that their clothes and hair rose to the pull. The pulsing light flared and began to move away.

“Follow it,” Jonathan said coldly. He pulled the gun from where it pressed against Reilly’s head and thrust it forward, waving it at the women. “You, you, and you,” he said, bobbing it at each one.

From the corner of his eye, Reilly could see that the revolver had to be at least a hundred years old. The metal gleamed with care and polish. Reilly thought of the cards, so well preserved and carefully stacked. His gaze moved to the spotless saloon, the dust-free pictures on the walls.

He’d been taking care of the Diablo for a long, long time.

Jonathan used Reilly’s shoulder to brace his arm as he aimed the gun at Chloe’s face. “I want what’s mine,” he said.

Without warning, Bill lunged at Jonathan and grabbed his arm. The two men struggled. For an instant, Jonathan’s grip on Reilly’s arm loosened, and that was all Reilly needed to break free. He twisted and slammed into Jonathan, knocking him to his knees, but the other man was faster, stronger than any of them. He managed to knock Bill backward and swipe Reilly’s feet out from under him in one swift move. Before either man could recover, the gun went off with a
boom!
that made Analise scream. Gracie pulled her daughter into her arms as Bill crashed into the wall, blood pouring from the wound in his chest.

Before Jonathan could turn back to the others, Reilly charged, thinking to catch him off guard, but with lightning reflexes, Jonathan twisted around and took aim, looking down the long barrel into the eyes of a terrified Analise.

“I want what’s mine,” he said. “Or I take what’s yours.”

Diablo Springs: Chapter Thirty-Two

July 1896

Diablo Springs

Two weeks had passed since Sawyer swung me into his arms and claimed me forever. Two weeks that seemed a lifetime of learning. There was no question after that where I would sleep or who I belonged to. The girls giggled among themselves and teased me about the look he’d put in my eye, but I didn’t care. I loved him, and though the words were not spoken, I felt he loved me back. What a strange world that had brought me to this place and time.

I had not forgotten about Chick during my bliss, however, though I was no closer to finding a solution to her problem. I worried on it constantly, and each time I saw a man take her up the stairs, I felt sickened. She was too much child to be a woman, too much woman to be a child. When I thought of her fear, I knew it was justified.

I’d done my best to avoid Aiken, but he had done his best to see that I didn’t. Each night he sat at my table and each night I beat him at cards, praying as I did that I would break him and force him to move on. He played on credit, still banked against his loan to Sawyer. Each time he drew on it, I made him put his mark on the ledger showing his growing use and Sawyer’s diminishing debt. I wondered if he understood numbers enough to know just how much he’d lost at the tables. There was no limit to the betting, and the miners seemed determined to lose their winnings. Many a hand I’d dealt had stakes high enough to make my heart flutter. One game at a table such as this could have reduced my father to a pauper. I had no trouble envisioning the high-stakes hand that had won Sawyer this very saloon I’d come to call home.

I was torn about one thing, though. While I wanted Aiken gone with all my heart, I knew that should he leave, he would take the women with him, and that I could not abide. I tempered my desire to influence Sawyer, if I could, to force him out. There had to be a way to free my friends of his domination.

There were no more than a hundred men living in Diablo Springs when we arrived, but each day more swarmed the small town until their white canvas tents dotted the hillside like boulders from a landslide. Each morning I awoke to the sounds of hammers and picks striking stone like the rhythmic chiming of a discordant bell. The silver was hard to find and slow to be had, but apparently, enough had been mined that others were drawn to the search. I grew accustomed, if not agreeable, to the smell of sweat and unwashed men. It might have been worse if Aiken had not insisted that they bathe before bedding any of the girls. Of all the things I loathed about Aiken, this one redeeming characteristic went far on his short list of good qualities.

Ever the entrepreneur, Aiken set up a tub in a tent beside the Diablo and charged two dollars for a bath. The men could have easily bathed for free in the warm springs, but I’d learned that in addition to being a superstitious lot, most of them were afraid of the water. It seemed that legends about the “devil springs” surpassed even those about the silver to be found in the surrounding mountains. I had heard that the springs were haunted, cursed, damned. I had yet to see evidence of it with my own eyes, and for me it would always be the wonderful place Sawyer and I escaped to in the early hours of the morning when the smell of smoke and the layers of spilled whiskey were too thick to take to bed. Though, I will admit that at times I felt the mist swirl like a phantom and I was glad not to be alone there.

Even Aiken was afraid of it. Once I’d heard Meaira try to tempt him out, and he’d refused with a vengeance that betrayed his absolute terror. Later, I’d learned that he couldn’t swim, but it still seemed to me that his fear went deeper than drowning.

Whatever the reason, few would go near the springs and so they washed themselves in Aiken’s bathing tent, using water many times over until I wondered how it could clean anyone. Athena’s job was to watch them and make sure they used soap, especially in those private areas. When the water became more mud then liquid, she would dump it and start fresh. I didn’t envy her the work, especially knowing that her chores didn’t end there or in the kitchen, because she was used by the worst of them in the bed, as well. I couldn’t imagine her exhaustion and my heart was sick for her, but she wouldn’t appreciate my sympathy so I didn’t offer it. When she would allow, I assisted her with the household jobs, but usually my help was rejected.

One day a man came and took our pictures. He gathered us up and arranged us like jewels in a setting. He came back later and showed us our likeness frozen forever behind glass. Sawyer bought the picture and hung it on the wall.

Each night, as the wee hours of morning came and went, business at last began to dwindle. The last man stumbled down the stairs looking as if he’d ascended from a part of heaven only he could know, and the last drunken miner was carried from the saloon and laid out on the boardwalk until he woke and found his way back to his tent.

I’d been particularly lucky of late, and even after Sawyer’s cut of my winnings, I thought I just might have enough to get Chick and Athena away from here. But where would they go? How would they live afterward? And what if Aiken chased them down? From everything I knew about him, he wouldn’t let a possession of his go so easily, and that’s what the girls were—his possessions.

All this I thought of as the night wound down and Sawyer locked the door behind the last customer. As usual, he wiped his bar with the pride of ownership and then went to the storage room where he kept his money chest. Aiken watched him go with an expression I didn’t like.

I stood, intending to follow Sawyer and speak with him. I had yet to confide in him about Chick’s secret, but I knew I would need his help. Besides, there were other issues to discuss before we retired for the night and the words exchanged between us became those sighed over our naked bodies.

Aiken stood when I did, though, and moved close enough that his legs brushed my skirts. I was wearing Chick’s dress again, and I was acutely aware of the tight, swooping neck and all the bare skin above it. I knew Aiken was, too.

“You sure smell sweet, Ella. Must be all them winnings. What you going to do with them?”

“That’s none of your concern, Mr. Tate.”

“Oh, but it is. I think you’ve got something up your sleeves, or maybe down here.” He ran his finger over the neckline of the dress, touching the tops of my breasts in a slow, unnerving stroke. I slapped his hand and took a step away. He followed, standing too close. Sawyer was still in the other room and I was alone with Aiken. I tried to keep my wits about me. It wouldn’t do to show this man fear.

“The Captain will not like your touching me any more than I do, Mr. Tate. Please keep your hands to yourself.”

I heard the rustle and thump as Sawyer moved some heavy object—a sound I heard each night when he put up the money he’d made. I knew Aiken heard it, too, and had surmised that Sawyer was hiding his profits in the store room. This was something else I planned to discuss with him.

“Sounds like the Captain got a little hidey-hole back there,” he said, smiling. “How about you girl? You got yourself a hidey-hole? You think you’re smart enough to keep it from me?” He reached for me again, this time skimming his hand up my chest to my throat. I had only a second to guess his intentions and then his fingers were tightening, blocking off my scream before it could escape.