Eternally Yours 1 Read online

  “Guess again, Sherman,” he said firmly. “This one was all Jodie’s doing. I was nothing more than an awed spectator.”

  “Is that so?” Sherman, scrubbing a hand over his chin, turned his speculative gaze her way. “How did you manage such a feat, young lady?”

  Tito Alexander folded his arms over his chest and grunted. “She cheated me at poker.” His tone made her actions sound like the most unforgivable of sins.

  “Oh, but you were the pinnacle of honesty?” Luc shoved Tito, not with any force, but enough to send the punk rocker stumbling into a sugar white column of marble. “Get over yourself, Tito. You thought you could cheat her and she outmaneuvered you. I never saw better sleight-of-hand than hers.”

  Surprise stole any argument Jodie planned to make. How did Luc know she’d manipulated her cards? He hadn’t seemed to pay the slightest attention during the game. And she’d struggled to appear circumspect when she slipped the royal flush from the deck, one card at a time over several hands.

  “Played me like a trout at the end of a fishing line, she did,” Tito grumbled, but his eyes shone with admiration. “All that crap about only seeing the game on television and in the movies. I never saw the other shoe drop ‘til she laid her cards down. And then it was too late. Hell, I didn’t even realize she was working with Luc. I thought she was another bounty like me.”

  Luc’s face broke into a wide grin that only enhanced the shadows beneath his eyes. “Yep. Jodie’s my very own secret weapon for catching stubborn asses like you.”

  Taking a step back, she stared at him from a new angle. Since when?

  Shut up and take your bow, Devlin. Luc’s voice growled in her mind. You’ve earned the accolades.

  “Well, then,” Sherman interjected. “Congratulations, Ms. Devlin. The Board will be enormously pleased to hear of your success. Especially after your recent transgression.” He turned his ageless gaze to Tito. “Mr. Alexander, if you’ll follow me please, we’ll show you to your room so you may rest before the reprocessing procedures begin.”

  On a deep sigh, Tito flipped his fingers into a pistol gesture aimed at Jodie’s chest. “You owe me a rematch, sweetheart. Come back and visit me before I move on. Give me a chance to get even.”

  Once again, Luc stepped between them to become an immovable barrier. “You’re a real glutton for punishment, aren’t you, dude? She already beat you once—pretty easily, I might add. Do you honestly think she won’t knock you on your ass next time around?”

  Veering around Luc’s broad shoulders, Tito waggled his brows in a Grouchoesque leer. “Are you kidding? I’m counting on it. Nothing gets my juices flowing faster than when a sexy-ass woman has the upper hand.”

  Before Jodie could determine whether she was flattered or insulted by Tito’s innuendo, Sherman stepped forward to drag the punk rocker away. “Come along, Mr. Alexander. You must meet with your Elder Counselor at once.”

  Tito surrendered easily, relaxing his stance and allowing himself to be led like a puppy on a leash. “Will Sari be waiting for me in my new life?”

  The question nearly melted Jodie’s heart. But the answer brought tears to her eyes.

  “That depends on you, Tito,” Sherman replied. “You’ll be given an opportunity to see her in your new incarnation. But first you must come to terms with your past sins. If you and Sari have enough forgiveness and love to sustain you this time, you’ll get another chance for happiness. If either one of you still holds on to the mistakes of the past, you will have to wait another lifetime to try again.”

  Based on what Jodie had seen of Tito’s immaturity and devil-may-care attitude, which, she assumed shielded a wounded heart, he and Sari would have a difficult time letting go of their past problems. She sighed at the waste. Love, she’d learned in her time here, wasn’t meant to be a weapon or a secret or a curse. Love was a gift that only grew and became more wondrous when it was shared openly.

  “Now, come along,” Sherman’s directive interrupted her reflections. “Let’s begin the process.”

  Once the ancient spirit guide led Tito through the crowd, Jodie turned her focus back to Luc. Jeez, he looked completely drained. His color seemed off. His usual golden hued complexion paled to heavy cream, and the shadows under his eyes had deepened to bruises. An odd odor clung to him. Like…stale vomit?

  No. Impossible.

  “Luc?” She cocked her head and tentatively reached a hand toward his sallow cheek. “Are you all right?”

  “Of course I’m all right,” he snarled in rabid dog fashion. On a wince, his features softened. “Sorry. Yes, I’m fine. Just drained from today’s events. By the way, I meant what I said to Sherman before. You were in top form today. I never could have wrangled Tito here without your participation.”

  She blinked once, twice. Oh, boy. Luc must have picked up some bizarre form of Afterlife fever. But his eyes held no bright pinpoints. And his lips remained set in a serious line. No humorous quirk or symptoms of delusion clouded the intensity of his expression.

  “Really?” The word came out a squeak, with the hushed awe of a child discovering a pony under the tree on Christmas morning.

  “Wow,” he remarked dryly. “I’ve been that much of an asshole to you?”

  Embarrassment warmed her insides, and she took a deep breath before replying, “I wouldn’t say you’ve been an asshole…”

  On a snort, he frowned. “Just not very forthcoming with the compliments, though.”

  “Yeah, well, I haven’t exactly deserved accolades before now.” She swallowed the lump of guilt rising in her throat. All the times she’d railed against him for jumping to conclusions about her. Hadn’t she done the same to him? How often had she acted impulsively, running from one burning house to another—figuratively speaking, of course. She sighed. “How about we start over? Give each other a new chance?”

  “Lady.” He thrust out his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  She clasped her fingers inside his palm, felt that familiar jolt of static crackle between them and quickly pulled away. Even so, her hand still tingled with little shock pulses. Flexing her fingers to ease the tension, she said, “Let’s go home. Partner.”

  ~~~~

  Jodie needed no assistance to travel from the Reception Area to her room at the Halfway House. Buoyant on Luc’s effusive praise and her own pride in her success, she skyrocketed home. Happiness surged so high, the moment her feet touched the drab carpeted floor, she began dancing like a prima ballerina.

  “Congratulations, Devlin.” Luc’s approving tone came from directly behind her pirouetting form. “You’re on your way to becoming a star in bounty-hunting, with a record almost as impressive as mine.”

  She stopped in mid-rotation and stretched to look at him over her shoulder, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Let’s not go overboard, pal. Too much praise might zip straight to my head.”

  “No, I mean it. You were amazing today.”

  Before she might fight the instinct, she spun briskly, wrapped her arms around his neck and captured his lips in a kiss. She caught him open-mouthed, no doubt about to wreck his compliment with some remark about how her naiveté wouldn’t always work to snatch the more stubborn runaways.

  Screw that. No way she’d give him the opportunity to bring her excitement down. Not when she felt so goddamn good for the first time since she arrived here.

  Her tongue swept his hollow, tasting him, clean and cool, like the air just before snow fell. His original stiff surprise melted beneath the sparks she emitted. A firestorm crackled between them, igniting a fever inside her. When he tried to pull back, she laced her fingers, successfully cradling his neck in her embrace.

  Breaking the kiss, he stared at her, consternation furrowing his brow. “What are you up to now?”

  “I’m feeling vital, alive, and thoroughly in love with myself. And I want to share all this excitement with someone. Who better than my partner? Meld with me, Luc,” she demanded, her voice throaty with need. �
��And not just for a quickie.”

  He might have been surprised by the invitation, but no more than Jodie herself. Still, while the words hung in the electrically-charged space between them, she refused to take them back or reconsider in any way.

  “Jodie,” he murmured, but she placed a finger against his lips to stem his argument.

  “No. Don’t talk, don’t make excuses. Meld with me. Consider it a way to seal our new beginning if you have to. Just don’t deny me. Please.”

  To hell with pride. She craved their joining, more than sleep, more than air. To baptize their newfound partnership through humanity’s most powerful force. To give the gift of love and know she was worthy of receiving the gift in return.

  Removing her finger, she pressed her lips to his. Fusion blended their atoms into a white-hot tornado. Fire crackled through her, skipping across synapses like a long lit fuse on a stick of dynamite. All conscious thought vanished. She became Need, thirsting for sustenance only he could supply.

  The air around them hummed with anticipation. Every cell inside her ached for him, opened to the possibility of receiving him, strained to create a blinding sun of heat and light. Transforming into a whirlwind of astral dust, she surrounded his hard, throbbing axis, drawing him closer, closer.

  Clothing, flesh, and bone melted away. When their two vastly different swirling pools of energy collided, she pulled him inside her in a yearning older than time, deeper than space. She spun through this screaming vortex, rising into the sky on a raucous symphony. A steady pounding echoed from her core. Luc, her magical percussionist, beat a pulsing rhythm inside her, intended to propel her over the edge.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” His voice rose up to fill her senses, and she glowed brighter than a full moon on a black night.

  She believed his husky words, accepted the awe behind them as her due. She was a goddess, and he worshipped at her altar with the fervor of the truly faithful. A thousand kisses landed, sprinkled over her in a benediction. Each touch sent a new tremor of ecstasy rocketing through her.

  He drank in her essence, cell by cell, taking all she offered and more. And while he slaked himself on her, she feasted upon him, swirling together in a heavenly orb that took them to the brink and retreated over and over again.

  The need widened to a chasm until she thought she’d die from wanting him. On a harsh cry, she closed herself around him, burning for release. The torment ended as she reached her pinnacle, a divine gift which smeared colors over the bland walls of the room. Cymbals crashed, vivid hues splashed, and she crested the stars to plummet in a spiral of sated grace.

  Chapter 25

  Row upon row of tents stood around Luc’s shivering form. The odors of manure and rotting garbage hung in the frigid February air. In this particular dream, Luc’s spirit resided in the body of Sergeant Nathan Bledsoe, a twenty-eight-year-old farmer from Albany, New York. His closest friend, Corporal Stephen Ruskin—same age, same occupation, same hometown—stood beside him. Both served in the American Continental Army.

  Sergeant Bledsoe fought for a future free from tyranny. And for the lady he left behind, his beloved Christine. Once the cursed war ended, he planned to return home, marry Christine, and raise a dozen sons to strengthen his country and their place in it. Nathan’s thoughts turned to his betrothed as he rolled a secret missive into oilcloth and stuffed the parchment into an empty spyglass barrel. How often had he told her he loved her? If he’d said the words a thousand times a day every day, it was too little.

  They’d grown up together, their parents close friends and neighbors. From the time he first spotted her cherubic cheeks and those perfect blue eyes, he’d known no other wife would ever suit him. How fortunate she’d felt the same pull toward him! And as they grew, so did their feelings.

  Since the war began, her beautiful face had carried him through many darkened days. One more excursion, this last trek into Canada, and he’d be free to return home to the promise he’d made to Christine so many battles ago. Her last words echoed in his ears, her promise to wait for him always, her admonishment that he come back to her hale and hearty. And his solemn vow they would marry the day after his return from duty.

  “When do you leave?” Stephen whispered, breaking the spell his memories cast.

  “Full dark,” Nathan replied in the same soft tone. “After this, I’m bound for home.”

  “You always did have the luck,” Stephen grumbled.

  Since the words were said with a smile, Nathan never thought to question them.

  Within hours of their conversation, Nathan had saddled his horse and ridden off. Working under orders from General Lafayette, he had crept into Canada to deliver the secret message stashed in the spyglass. But someone had alerted the British to his whereabouts and the moment the spyglass changed hands, a unit of redcoats erupted from the woods, rifles at the ready.

  Nathan was quickly arrested, charged with espionage. He received no trial, not a legal one at any rate. There was no need. Only two documents were needed to convict him, the message from Lafayette inside the spyglass, and the letter. The letter he’d sent off to Christine, advising her that this would be his last journey and he would return home to her soon. A letter which had somehow found its way into enemy hands. As the tightening noose stole his last gasping breath, Nathan cursed the woman he’d once adored. She’d betrayed him. May God visit a painful end to Christine Grainger’s days!

  Luc bolted upright, awake and instantly alert.

  He lay beside Jodie, panting, his naked body glistening with sweat. From the nightmare or from their earlier activities? He didn’t know.

  Jesus. Just...Jesus.

  No other thought permeated the fog enshrouding his brain. He simply couldn’t wrap his head around the confusion muddling his world.

  The first time he and Jodie had melded, the quickie, had been a pleasant surprise. But this last bout was like atomic fusion.

  And by damn, he wanted to do it again. Right now. What better way to forget the hellish memories haunting his dreams than through mind-blowing sex?

  Her breath, a little too fast, warmed his ear with each exhale. Oh, yeah. She was just as hot to repeat their performance as he. Rolling over, he skimmed a hand down her naked hip. With a satisfied moan, she stretched like a Persian cat on a velvet cushion. One arched foot rubbed against his ankle, and he rose on one elbow to look more closely at the scars puckering her flesh. Tentatively, he reached out a finger and when she didn’t turn away, he traced the jagged striations on her left arm.

  “I’m not going to erase them,” Jodie said flatly. “So don’t start giving me advice on how to do it.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of giving you advice, babe. In fact…” He lowered his voice to a husky murmur meant to get her engine fired up. “…based on what just occurred between us, I’m thinking there are a few talents you’ve been keeping secret. Besides poker.”

  Heat traveled between them, warming the cool, scratchy sheet.

  “But you’re still curious how I got the scars.” Pain flashed across her features, and he winced that she’d so easily read his mind. This conversation came nowhere near the type of romantic small talk most lovers participated in.

  “I’m sorry.” He cupped her hand, pressed the back of it to his lips. “Forget I drew any attention to them.”

  “No,” she murmured. “It’s okay. Why shouldn’t you wonder about them? Besides, this is supposed to be a ‘new beginning.’ That means clearing the skeletons out of the closet.”

  She snuggled closer, fitting her curves against him, shoulder beneath his arm, hip to hip. Her eyes lost the luster of bliss and dimmed to a serious sapphire. “The thing is, even if I erased the scars from…” She glanced down at herself, and then back into his eyes with an apologetic smile twisting her lips. “…whatever I am now, I can’t erase the memories of what caused them. So what’s the point?”

  He skimmed a fingertip over her chin. “You’re procrastinating, sweetheart.”
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br />   “Yeah, I am,” she admitted on a sigh heavy enough to anchor the Queen Mary. “Where’d you grow up, Luc? On Earth, I mean.”

  The non-sequitur threw him, but only for the briefest moment. Understanding lit up the corners of his brain quickly. She needed to skate the subject, dance around the topic until she found her footing. No wonder, really. Those scars were pretty hideous to the naked eye. She probably underwent some kind of horrific accident in acquiring them. An accident she hadn’t totally come to grips with yet.

  So…okay. He’d give her all the time she needed. What the hell else did they have here anyway? Nothing but eons of time. Although, she’d come up with a helluva way to pass the endless hours. In fact, he hoped her “new beginning” scenario included a lot more melding. It wasn’t just your average ordinary human sexual relations; it was more powerful, more consuming, more—for lack of a better term—earth-shattering. Nuclear sex.

  His finger skittered over her hip again, but she slapped his illicit digit away.

  “Later,” she said with the smart tone of a parochial school nun wielding a ruler on an unruly child’s hand. “Answer my question first.”

  He yanked his finger away and offered her a disappointed shrug. “Okay, fine. I was born in Manhattan. Well, at Manhattan Hospital. I grew up in the New York suburbs. Not the most exciting life, but average as far as childhoods go. Mom, Dad, a little sister, three-bedroom house with picket fence, and a dog. The perfect picture of suburbia.”

  “I was born in a mud hut in a rain forest in Costa Rica.”

  He snorted. “Get outta here.”

  “No, really.” As if to lend credence to her words, she nodded. “My parents worked for UNESCO. You know what that is, right? The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization?”

  “Yeah. I’ve heard of it.”

  After moistening his fingertip, he traced lazy curlicues over Jodie’s skin and hid a smile when her normally burnished gold aura turned to a copper shimmer. She glowed beneath his touch. What man wouldn’t feel a surge of pride to have such power over a beautiful woman?