Fixation (8 page)

Waking up is normally something that comes hard for me. I’m not a morning person and since Luna died, I didn’t even have the comfort of a warm, purring kitty curled up next to me.

This morning, however, I woke up in a cocoon of total well being. Warmth spread through my body, emanating from the body wrapped around mine like a contoured blanket.

Balam’s chest molded against my back, his legs pressed against mine with no space between. One of his arms circled my waist, the other rested against the top of my head. I felt his breath warm against my hair, slow and steady in slumber. Half asleep myself, I smiled in contentment and wriggled back against him—and felt something hard move against my butt.

I froze as I realized what was waking up behind me, but it was too late. Balam murmured something against my ear and pulled me closer, letting me feel just how aroused he was, even only half awake. The hand at my waist moved lower, fingers tracing a path under my T-shirt from my hip down my flank, then making their way around to my inner thigh, tantalizingly close to the V between my legs. I held my breath and tried not to move. Maybe if I didn’t move he’d think I was asleep and stop—stop—

Oh.

His fingers stroked me through the cotton of my g-string, heat emanating from his skin as if each finger had a glowing ember tip.

I wouldn’t move. If I didn’t move, he’d—

I gasped and arched involuntarily up against him, as Balam insinuated his hand under the g-string, pressing his palm against my sex. Soft laughter tickled my ear, sending yet another jolt of heat through my groin.

“I knew you were awake,” he murmured, fingers never stopping their movement against me.

“How did you ... know?” I squirmed as he played with my clitoris, flicking it lightly with one finger, like a butterfly kiss.

“Your”—he licked my ear—”breathing and your heartbeat. One was too regular and the other”—he rolled over onto his back, taking me with him, his free hand cupping my breast through my shirt—”far too rapid for sleep.” The rough skin of his palm caressed my nipple, rubbing against it until it stiffened into a hard little peak.

I knew there were a dozen good reasons I should object, tell him to stop, but I couldn’t articulate one of them. When I opened my mouth, all that came out was a moan of desire as first one, then two of his fingers slipped inside me, finding and pressing my g-spot as his thumb continued to stroke my clitoris.

My hips rose and fell against his hand, matching his rhythm, my breath coming faster as he slowly kissed my neck, teeth, and tongue working together to send me into sensory overload. It was almost too much, but as I tried briefly to pull away, Balam’s arms tightened around me like bands of velvet wrapped steel, holding me in place.

“No, little Maya,” he whispered against my ear. “I let you go last night. I do not have enough will power to do so again.”

With that, he pressed his fingers deeper and a sudden sharp orgasm jolted through my body. Even as I cried out with the strength of it, Balam rolled over, pressing me beneath him, the hard length of his penis replacing his fingers inside me. Another surge of sensation rippled from my sex through my body as another orgasm hit. Balam captured my cry of ecstasy with his lips as he kissed me, his tongue thrusting into my mouth even as his cock thrust into my body.

Sex with Jesse had been okay. Nothing earth-shattering, but okay. But things had always been slightly awkward, our bodies not quite meshing. I’d always felt vaguely unsatisfied after sleeping with him.

But with Balam, it was as if we were built for each other. Our bodies fit together like matching puzzle pieces. Self-consciousness went out the window and I gave myself up completely to the sensations he evoked, my body in complete harmony with his as the long, hard length of him filled me again and again.

I opened my mind, dropping the shields that normally surrounded it, and reached out with my psyche into his, feeling the passion Balam felt for me. I felt his need, his arousal, and his focus, all for and because of me. His entire being was fixated on me. At that moment I was quite literally the center of his universe.

His hands entwined with mine on either side of my head. His eyes stared into mine, golden flecks glowing with supernatural light.

My mind and body opened up even further, melding with Balam’s so that when his climax hit, my body felt what his did, shudders of pleasure wracking both of us in tandem. We melted into one another as if we shared a single body. The intimacy shook me to my very core. Nothing I’d experienced in the past, even with my enhanced psychic abilities, had prepared me for this—this mind meld.

“Maya,” he groaned as a final ripple of orgasm shook his body. He sank against me, hands loosening their grasp from mine so I could wrap my arms around him and run my fingers down the sweat-soaked skin of his back and buttocks.

He pushed himself onto his forearms, staring down at me. “Maya,” he said again, voice and expression intensely serious. “You are mine.”

I ran my fingernails down the back of his upper thighs, taking pleasure in the hiss of desire this elicited.

“Don’t I get any say in this?” My voice was teasing,

“No.” His voice was not.

“What about ... whatever her name is?” I knew it was Anani, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it, both because I was jealous of the way he’d described her and because part of me was afraid if I said her name it would somehow conjure her again.

I reached my mind out to his without thinking. Images and emotions flashed by like a slide show—I was there, his emotions tinged with passion and an overwhelming possessiveness and need to protect me. And then there was the face of the beautiful Anani, accompanied by anger, betrayal—and lust.

Access to Balam’s mind slammed shut suddenly, a steel door dropping into place so I couldn’t read him. I flinched as a flash of anger crossed his face.

“I would also expect that you do not use your power on me without my permission.”

“I...I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean—”

His stern expression softened. “I know, Maya. Your ability is as natural to you as breathing. But there are times when a person’s thoughts should be private ... until he is ready to share them.”

I nodded, ashamed. I’d stopped myself from reading Jesse past a certain point, yet had dove right into Balam’s psyche without pausing to consider the violation of his privacy. But I still couldn’t stop the words that came out of my mouth.

“You were thinking of Anani,” I said. “You still want her.”

“One does not suddenly get over an addiction,” he admitted. “You know it is bad for you ... that it could kill you. Yet you still want it even as you grow to hate the power it has over you.”

I shrank inside myself, wanting to run away. I knew I could never live up to her beauty or sex appeal. Why even try?

“But Maya ... Anani is not my mate.” Balam stroked my hair with one hand, brushing it off my forehead with a tenderness that made me want to cry. “She was pure desire, yes. But there is more to life and love than that. If she had truly been my mate...” He paused, staring off into the distance before continuing. “If she’d been my mate, I might have agreed to help her.” He turned towards me again. “You, Maya, are my mate.”

I stared up at him, almost unable to believe this almost preternaturally handsome man was in my bed and saying I was his mate.

“Why me?”

Balam’s mouth curved upwards. “Because your soul and being call out to mine. Our bodies and spirits fit together.” He touched my face.

“What if I’m not ready to be your mate?” I asked.

“Then I will do my best to convince you.” He kissed me then, even as his cock hardened once more inside me, filling me.

I returned his kisses and caresses, letting myself be carried away with the passion Balam aroused in me without worrying about what the rest of the day would bring.

* * * *

We spent the morning in bed, making love, drifting back to sleep, then making love again. When we finally got up, it was nearly noon and I was ravenous.

“How do you feel?” Balam asked.

“Hungry.” My stomach growled in agreement.

He smiled. “Anything else?”

I noticed all of my aches and pains were gone. I felt more invigorated and alive than I had in years.

“I feel really good,” I said honestly. “Better than I have in years.”

“Our lovemaking has curative powers,” he said with what I could only describe as a smug expression.

“Oh, really?” I raised an eyebrow. “You’re just that good, huh?”

“I am,” he said, ducking as I threw a pillow at him.

He grinned, bringing to mind Nagual and his jaguar grin.

“But my prowess as a lover aside,” he continued while pulling on his jeans, “part of what gives Evaki’s children their abilities comes from sex magic. It generates more energy than anything else, except”—his face darkened—“blood sacrifice.”

Once again suspicion filled me. “So all that stuff about me being your mate... was it just bullshit? Did you make love to me for power?” I crossed my arms in front of my chest in a protective gesture, warding off the pain I knew would come after his answer.

“Maya...” Balam crossed the room in one swift stride and took me in his arms. “The only power I used when we made love was for you ... to heal you. I swear to you I will never take power from you without asking you first.

“And—” he continued before I could remind him that he’d done just that to regain his human form. “I will do anything it takes to gain your trust and make up for using your power without your permission ... and for bringing your presence to Anani’s attention.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to this, but a sudden knock on my front door made it unnecessary.

“Maya? You okay?”

“That is your landlord.” Balam sounded distinctly grumpy.

“Yeah,” I said. “I should let him know everything’s fine.”

Balam’s eyes flashed with possessiveness, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

I rolled my eyes. “He’s my friend, okay?”

“You should still put clothes on.”

Oops.

I pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a berry-colored T-shirt with a scoop neck and hurried into the living room just as Jack knocked on the door again.

I opened the door, running a hand through my hair in a belated attempt to tame what had to be a mega case of bed head. Jack’s raised eyebrow told me it didn’t do any good.

“Your guest still here?”

I blushed, my face no doubt as red as my T-shirt.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” I wasn’t sure if Jack’s expression was amused or disapproving, or possibly both.

“Good morning, Mr. Van Dorn.” I jumped as Balam spoke behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist.

Jack’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Good morning to you, Senor...”

“Cadejo,” Balam said.

Jack looked at me. “So ... everything’s okay, right?”

I nodded. “Yup. Everything’s great.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. He looked at me, then at Balam, then back at me again. “Really?”

I nodded again. “Really.”

Jack shot a glance at Balam. “See that it stays that way.”

“I will.” Balam’s arms tightened around me, but I felt the tension in his body relax.

Jack nodded too, very slowly, as if coming to a conclusion. “Good. Maya is like my little sister. If she hurts, I hurt. And if someone hurts her...”

“You will hurt them.”

“Yes.”

“And I will help you.”

Balam extended a hand and Jack clasped it, doing one of those macho manly-man exchanges of testosterone and blood brother vows while I tried not to roll my eyes. A loud growl from my stomach however, couldn’t be ignored.

“Is anyone else hungry or is it just me?”

Balam and I went to a late breakfast at Louie’s Diner, an old-fashioned diner above the ruins of the Sutro Baths. Before we left I called Sharon, apologized for not calling earlier, pleading migraine and nausea. She was totally understanding, which made me feel lousy for not calling her earlier, not to mention stretching the truth—and my illness—by twenty four hours.

But not lousy enough to go into work after the weekend I’d had.

“What next?” I asked in between bites of crab omelet.

“What do you mean?” Balam carved a piece of steak from his steak-and-eggs special and raised it to his mouth.

“How do we stop your bimbo ex from taking over the world?”

Balam stopped in mid-bite and raised an eyebrow. “’We’ do nothing.
I
will go back to Belize and do my best to fight her.”

Ri-i-ight.

“So all that ‘I’m your mate” business.” I speared a piece of crab with unnecessary force. “That was just bullshit?”

Balam sighed, the eternal exasperated sigh of males throughout the centuries when their women didn’t automatically defer to their opinions.

“Being your mate means I protect you,” he said patiently, as if explaining something to a child.

“Really? Because to me, being someone’s mate means making decisions together. Stuff like deciding where to go to dinner, picking out furniture, and taking on psycho megalomaniacal bitches as a couple, y’know?”

“Maya—”

I cut him off. “What it
doesn’t
mean is one person going off and putting themselves into danger while the other person is left behind worrying and wondering if they’ll ever see them again.”

“More coffee?”

Our waitress, a cute little twenty-something, stood in front of our table with a pot of coffee, a smile, and absolutely no sense of timing, not to mention an obvious crush on Balam.

I sighed. “Sure, fill me up.”

She did, smiling at Balam the entire time. I was almost impressed she managed to pour my coffee without spilling any. Almost.

We finished our brunch in a heavily weighted silence. Balam insisted on paying and I didn’t argue with him.

“Let’s go for a walk around the Baths,” I suggested when we went outside into the fog-shrouded street. Balam didn’t argue, so I set out down the path leading to the ruins of the Sutro Baths, a gently sloping dirt and gravel path that started in a parking lot and hugged the side of the hill and cliffs that gently cupped the remnants of the Baths on three sides, the western face open to the Pacific Ocean.

We walked in a continuation of the silence that had hung over our meal, the noise of passing traffic, waves hitting the rocks below and the occasional cry of seagulls the only sounds besides our footfalls. There were only a few other people wandering the ruins, probably because Monday was a low-traffic day for tourists.

I knew Balam had plenty he wanted to say to me. Without even trying to read his feelings, the emotions pouring off of him were an obvious mixture of concern, irritation and protectiveness, the last almost overwhelming in his need to keep me safe, whether I liked it or needed it—or not.

My own irritation level rose as we walked, passing a happily chattering group of tourists along the way. We reached the ruins themselves, walking on the top of concrete walls alongside deep cavities filled with brackish sea water, an unappealing scum of algae floating along the top and pooling among the edges. I always thought the Baths looked like the home of some Creature from the Black Lagoon, especially when fog curled around the ruins. Like it was doing now.

A bubble of water rose and burst in the middle of one of the pools, reinforcing the notion that the water concealed some slimy horror. I moved uneasily away from the edge of the concrete walkway. Just in case, you know, something lurked underneath looking for a snack.

This irrational fear pissed me off even more so I stopped and glared at Balam.

“Look, I get that you’ve got some sort of uber-macho hardwired need to protect me, but you can’t keep me in a padded box. Considering what you put me through to get back your human form in the first place, you kind of missed the boat on that.”

Balam’s brows drew together. “I have apologized for taking advantage of you, Maya, and will do all I can to make it up to you. But that does not include putting you in further danger. If you were to fall in Anani’s power, there’s no telling what she might do to you out of jealousy and her need to hurt me.”

“Hell hath no fury,” I muttered.

“Certainly none like Anani’s.”

We reached the portion of the wall and walkway that bordered the ocean on one side. The tide was out, rocks and a small bit of beach visible below us. On the other side, dark, still water filled another section of ruins. It was hard to imagine this had ever been a proper bathhouse. The thought of dipping even a toe in the water made me shudder.

“What if you do go back to Belize?” I asked. “And you never come back? Where does that leave me?”

“Alive,” Balam said bluntly.

I opened my mouth to argue, then stopped as I watched a wall of fog roll across the ruins towards us. It was thicker and darker than the fog already hanging in the air. It looked—unclean. Tainted. It covered the upper parking lot and obscured the path we’d taken. The gaggle of tourists vanished into the mist, the sound of their voices cut off as if sliced by a knife. I could no longer hear the gulls or the waves hitting the rocks below.

Balam’s fingers gripped my arm. His nostrils flared as if scenting something foul on the wind.

“Balam, what is it?” I could feel the tension thrumming from his body into mine.

“It is Anani.”

I clutched his hand where it rested on my arm. The rest of the world had vanished, leaving only the strip of concrete walkway on which we stood and the pool of murky water beside us. Something was building in the air, a silent pressure pressing on my eardrums until I thought my head would explode.

Suddenly I could no longer feel Balam’s touch on my arm. I saw him in the fog, his body receding into the mist as if dragged backwards in slow motion. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. The last thing I was his hand reaching towards me before it vanished into the miasma.

“Balam!” My shriek was thin and lifeless, like the sound a cardboard copy of me would make. The fog was sucking the life out of everything. I had to get out of there, but I could no longer see where the walkway ended and the pool began. One wrong step and I could end up in the brackish soup.

And I thought if I touched that water, ... I might just die on the spot.

The water next to me started to bubble. Slow, thick, goopy protrusions rising from the water, a nightmare witch’s cauldron. One of the bubbles burst and let forth a foul smell of rotted meat and decayed vegetation. Something was rising from to the surface, something unnatural that had no place in the real world.

I stood rooted to the spot, paralyzed by terror, unable to move as whatever it was broke the water’s surface.

It looked like a head, a scalp with a cap of sodden black hair plastered randomly to its contours, greenish skin showing through bald patches. As the head rose further, a nightmare visage of rotted flesh and bone showed itself, eyes glowing with a terrible insane fire, a death’s-head rictus taking the place of a smile. The nose was a dark hollow, the cartilage eaten away long ago.

More bubbles belched to the surface, releasing their own noxious fumes into the air. The smell was nauseating; it hung in the air without dissipating and I wondered how much air actually circulated within what felt like a tomb with ever shifting walls of undulating mist.

I stared, paralyzed with horror as fish-belly white shoulders followed the skull, rotting rags hanging off. An emaciated torso followed, hands skeletal claws with bits of flesh still clinging to the bones. Those hands clutched the raised edge of the walkway and slowly pulled the rest of its body up out of the water. Its fingertips grazed the tips of my shoes.

Its touch broke my paralysis. I shrieked and stumbled backwards as the fingers scrabbled across my feet, trying to gain purchase around my ankles. One of my heels caught a loose stone and I fell heavily to the ground, the impact sending a jolt of pain up my tailbone. But the pain was nothing compared to the sheer terror I felt as it crawled after me. I shrieked again, scrabbling away like a crab as it reached for me. My butt ran up against a barrier; the short wall between me and the ocean. I looked over the wall and saw only fog, no way to gauge if I could risk the drop.

Even as I turned back, the rotting horror grabbed my feet, finding purchase on my tennis shoes and moving up to grasp my ankles.

I screamed again and the thing tittered, the sound thick and clotted in its throat. Fingers tightened like steel pincers, digging into my skin as it started pulling me back towards the stagnant pool from where it had risen. It began lowering itself back into the water, feet first.

And it wanted to take me with it.

 I kicked frantically, twisting back and forth in a vain effort to break its grip, my hands scrabbling at rocks and cracks in the walkway to stop myself from being dragged forward any further. A nail on my right hand tore backwards as the rotting creature gave a vicious yank, dislodging my grip on a shallow crevice and a stab of agony ripped through my finger, blood dripping down the tip onto the ground. My panic was full-blown, my breath coming in gasping screams as the thing pulled my feet over the edge of the pool, shifting its grip to my calves, then further up to my thighs as it drew me inexorably into the water.

I swear my skin flinched away as the water closed over first my feet, then my legs. It felt gelid and warm, like taking a bath in slime. My heart didn’t stop when it touched me, but part of me wanted to die then and there before I found out what the thing would do to me once it had me fully submerged.

It had me up to my hips now, hands moving up my torso in a hideously familiar manner, almost as if it were caressing me like a lover would. Clawed fingers cupped my breasts through the material of my shirt as I reached backwards to grab at the raised wall in one last ditch attempt to stop the inevitable. The creature tittered again, grabbed me by the shoulders, and pulled me into the pool.