Touched by Darkness (37 page)

twisted, no longer concerned about propriety. She

desperately wanted—needed—to touch him, to

explore his body, but he had her hands entrapped in

his.

The fifth and sixth chakras burst open, pouring

vivid blues into her inner sight. "Damien," she

gasped, unable to process anything but her body's

erotic demands. She felt the aching wetness

between her legs, needed him inside her
now.

Spreading her legs, she arched against him.

"Hang on." He settled between her thighs, and she

felt his erection probing a burning trail right where

she desperately needed it. She tilted her pelvis to

give him better access.

"Now!"
she cried fiercely.

He slid inside her as the seventh chakra opened and

a violet mist enveloped them. He
was
big, and he

filled her completely. But she was beyond ready;

there was no discomfort, only perfection of fit and

friction. She started climaxing with his first stroke.

Rapid-fire images flashed through her mind, as

waves of sensation erupted in her body. It went on

and on, a mindless detonation of visions and

pleasure. She lost all sense of time and reality. Yet

she was acutely attuned to Damien, to him stroking

hard and deep inside her, to his shuddering orgasm.

Gradually, she realized the energies were receding,

while little aftershocks rocked her body. "Oh,

God," she groaned.

Damien dropped his forehead to hers.
"Damn."

"Yes," she said weakly. "That, too."

He pulled out and rolled onto his back, his chest

heaving. She had just enough strength to pull the

covers over herself. At least there was no headache

this time, no burning, unappeased need.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine." Although it might be hours, maybe days,

before she could walk normally again. It had been

seven years since she'd been with a man, so she'd

probably be very sore for a few days. Willing her

breathing to calm, she closed her eyes, setting off a

series of startling visual flashes. Her eyes opened

and she angled her head toward Damien. "I'm still

seeing the images."

He turned on his side, the covers dipping low on

his hips. "Take my hand. Let's see if you can link to

my third eye, like you did with the ghost."

She reached out, and he grasped her hand firmly in

his. Electrical sensations coursed up her arm.

"Concentrate on your other sight," he said. "My

third eye should bring it into sharper focus for you.

We'll both see the same thing."

She closed her eyes again, opening herself to him.

The images clicked on, clear and vivid, as if she

were watching a movie.

A pair of sleek, female legs, wearing stylish red

pumps, walking languidly down a gravel driveway.

They moved alongside a white vehicle; a

momentary shift in the visual showed a dirty Ford

F-150. The door opened, and the legs stepped up

into the driver's side.

A feminine hand put the key in the ignition and

started the engine. Then the truck was moving, with

visual snippets out the window. It appeared to be

on River Road; the sunlight reflected off the Blanco

River as the truck drove. Another shift upward to

the woman's head, but the face and hair were hazy.

Then everything went blurry and the vision did a

Hollywood-style fade-out.

Damien pounded the mattress. "I just need to see

the face. Just a glimpse.
Damn it!"
He sat up,

thrusting his fingers through his hair. "This thing is

way too powerful."

The state trooper/Belian stepped away from

Richard's body, glowing with preternatural light.

Richard's death seemed to have rejuvenated,

empowered him. He moved toward Kara, grinning

grotesquely, Satan incarnate...

Battling nausea, she clutched the sheet to her chest.

"The longer it survives and the more it kills, the

stronger it grows," she whispered.

"It doesn't have much longer." Damien's voice was

colder than she'd ever heard it. "Its cursed soul will

be burning on Saturn very soon. I want to see the

medical files on your female patients again—all of

those with ongoing health problems. I know there

were five that caught my attention—Belle

Williams, Luz, Mary... what was her last name?"

"Roberts." Kara pushed herself up, keeping a firm

grip on the sheet. She'd already violated doctor-

patient privilege, and she would do it again—

anything to stop this monster. "There's also Katie

Woodward and Beth Gonzales."

"That's right. I'm going to look at them very

closely. Do you know if all of them drive white

Ford trucks?"

"I know that Belle and Luz do, and so does Mary.

I'm not sure about Katie and Beth."

"I'll find out." He tossed back the covers and slid

from the bed, giving her a breathtaking view of one

fine rear end, and a beautifully muscled torso and

legs to go with it. He seemed comfortable in his oh-

so-sexy skin, but then most guys were less self-

conscious about their bodies than women were,

Kara thought enviously. Moving to the chair with

lethal grace, he stepped into his jeans, sans

underwear, zipped them up, then pulled on his T-

shirt and sweater.

"We can discuss this more over dinner." He picked

up his boots and started toward the door, then

glanced back at her. "You coming?"

That's one way of putting it,
she thought inanely.

She forced her thoughts away from sexual

innuendo, nodded. "Yes. I'll be there in few

minutes."

He stared at her as if trying to gage her state of

mind. "You know you did the right thing, Kara.

We're very close now."

Close to what?
she wondered.
Light or darkness?

And which one would win?

#

Praise be to Belial, my strength is growing, and my

abilities are all powerful. How could the fools think

I wouldn't sense such a strong sexual surge?

Having a conduction to try and track me down, are

they? My, my. And so early in the evening. Maybe

they couldn't wait any longer, couldn't keep their

supposedly pristine hands off each other, fucking

like dogs in heat.
Oh, my dear, was it as good for

you as it was for me?
Ah, how I amuse myself.

But I
know,
even though they think I don't. Not that

I care
—
I'm far too strong for them to find me. It

has to be that nosy reporter, Morgan. Everyone

else in this pitiful excuse of a town has been here

forever; no one leaves for long. And if Morgan is

the Sentinel—may he be cursed for eternity
—
then

Dr. Kara must be the conductor. It is the only

logical explanation, especially since she and

Morgan have been shacking up together.

Dear, sweet Kara. What a front you present to

everyone. I, however, know you for the bitch you

really are. I will enjoy your screams
—
and

Morgan's, too
—
when I torture you both. I'll savor

your pleas for mercy, and then I'll send your souls

into the bowels of Hades, as my offering to Belial.

But first, I will increase my strength with another

kill, which will offer me the boundless energy of a

child. Not a challenge, true, but once I'm able to

take over a better body, I'll be invincible. Too bad

the kill can't be Kara's brat, but she's sent him

away—for now. I'll deal with him when he returns

for his mother's funeral.

And now, I'm going to drink to my perfect plan.

Praised be Belial

Kara didn't feel the letdown until she was in the

shower the next morning. After the conduction, the

evening had been too busy for introspection. She

and Damien had eaten, reviewed medical files,

done some laundry, and she'd called Alex. Never

once had they acted like a couple who had just had

mind-blowing sex.

At bedtime, Damien had retrieved the police

scanner and taken it to Alex's room, where he spent

the night. Slipping into her bed alone, Kara felt a

sense of desolation. She told herself it was simply

fear of dreaming about another murder, but knew

there was more that she was unwilling to face right

now.

She'd been so exhausted that she'd quickly fallen

asleep, despite the lingering energies of the

conduction. Thankfully, there had been no dreams.

When the shrilling alarm jolted her awake at seven

a.m., she swatted it off and stumbled to the

bathroom and into the shower. She stood beneath

the warm spray until her mind began to function.

Then, as she soaped herself, wincing when she

reached the sore flesh between her legs—a part of

her anatomy that had probably atrophied over the

past seven years—she thought about last night's

conduction.

Not about what had happened, but what
hadn't

happened. There'd been no tenderness, no affection,

between her and Damien, although he had been

considerate and respectful. No unnecessary

touching, no tongue-tangling kisses; no kissing at

all, for that matter. No true touching of souls, not in

an emotional sense.

She'd had those things with Richard. She had

finally accepted their loss, although she still

grieved for the man and the love they'd shared.

That didn't mean she wanted to live the rest of her

life without finding them again. For the first time

since Richard's death, she was coming alive,

emotionally and physically, as a woman. Her needs

were awakening, voicing their demands. But she

wanted more than just sex.

She felt let down because she hadn't had that
more

with Damien. Which was ridiculous, se told

herself; he had never represented the situation any

other way. She had gone into last night's

conduction knowing it was just that—a sexual

tracking session. She needed to get her foolish

longings under control before she set herself up for

some serious heartache.

She dried off and dressed in a navy pantsuit and

low matching pumps that would be appropriate

both for seeing patients that morning and Doris's

memorial service that afternoon. She added a gold

silk scarf she found in her accessory drawer,

although for the life of her, she couldn't remember

where she'd gotten it. She brushed out her hair,

added a touch of blush to her chalk-white cheeks,

and applied mascara to her lashes—waterproof, so

she wouldn't look like a raccoon if she cried during

the memorial service.

Wondering if Damien was up yet, she walked

quietly down the hallway. She saw him then, sitting

in the lotus position in the middle of the living

room floor, back erect, eyes closed, wearing

nothing but his jeans and the crystal on its silver

chain. He'd raised the blind and situated himself in

the center of the sunshine streaming in. The light

blazed around him like an immense halo, and he

appeared to be in a deep meditative state.

Her breath caught in her throat. She used to observe

Richard meditate, sometimes had even joined him.

The enlightenment of altered consciousness, the

power of controlled chakra energies had been, in

their way, more profound than a conduction. Joint

meditation had always brought Richard and her

closer together, and often ended in lovemaking.

Watching Damien now, she felt a rush of emotions.

She wanted to go to him, to stroke her hands over

his beautiful chest, to touch him everywhere, and

have him touch her in return.

Not a good idea—not even an option, really.

She forced herself to turn away, quietly got her

purse and coat, and let herself out the front door.

#

Kara spoke at the memorial service. Sharon had

asked her to, and she felt honored to be able to

share what a wonderful person Doris had been.