Riding the Storm (15 page)

"Go
inside, Haley," he repeated. "This had nothing to do with you."

"It
does if they're trying to hurt you."

"Doesn't
matter."

"It
matters to me." And then she fired the shotgun into the air, twice.
"Those were your only warnings. Next time, I'm aiming for kneecaps. It'll
be hard to run from the gators that way, don't y'all think?"

"She'sbluffin',"
someone called.

And
then an old woman he didn't recognize stepped forward, dressed in a knee-length
frock and granny shoes and looking for all the world like a kindly grandmother.
"I knew yo mama, boy. You da reason she dead."

His
gut clenched, his mouth opened—but nothing came out. The woman's face changed,
scrunched up like she'd tasted something sour and nasty as she screeched out
some sort of voodoo curse. The crowd shouted various chants, which became a
muted roar, and a shower of rocks and wood and even a couple of candles pelted
him. He roughly shoved Haley behind the shelter of his body, and then the smell
of gasoline sent a stab of alarm up his spine. The whoosh of a fire cut through
the night. In the crowd, someone had lit something.

He
took a step forward, intent upon tearing some asshole apart before they burned
down the house, but a glowing orange light screamed toward him. He ducked and
struck out, deflecting the burning stick with his fist before it hit Haley. It
spun to the muddy ground and the flame hissed out, but the gray smoke curled
upward like it still wanted a piece of him. Fury seared him like the fire never
could, the wind tore through the trees—and fuck, someone was damned lucky,
because he'd have had to kill the son of a bitch who'd thrown it if Haley had
been hurt.

"Get
the hell out of here," she shouted, angling the gun a hair to the right of
the crowd. She fired, took out the bird-house hanging in an old sycamore at
least fifty yards away. "Now." The boom of the shotgun once again
filled the air, and mud exploded in front of the crowd, splattering the people
closest.

"Remind
me not to piss you off," he muttered as he watched the crowd back off.
They didn't run, but the south did have a slow-moving rhythm to it, and in his
estimation, these people were moving faster than they ever had.

"You
mean, more than you already have?"

He
knew she meant it as more of a joke, but it didn't sit well with him, not with
the adrenaline pumping through his body the way it was.

"Give
me the gun," he said, and she handed it to him without any further
argument. The weather outside had calmed significantly since the crowd vacated
the premises, but there was no way it was going to stay that way for long.

Remy's
hand shook when he shut the door. Haley wouldn't notice the slight tremble, but
he hated himself for it. Remembered the times he would leave someone's house or
front yard and he'd turn to see them sprinkling salt behind him. After all,
that was what you did when you wanted to keep a visitor from returning to your
home.

T-Remy's
bad luck, bad news, bad everything…

Sometimes
it worked for him, the whole bad boy image. Worked well enough that he could
sneak over to the nearest town once the old man passed out. He'd steal the
truck and cross the bridge into no-man's-land and the line of local bars strung
along on the way to the bigger towns. They contained a rougher element than
Remy had ever seen, although a few bouts with his father and the kids at school
had more than prepared him to hold his own.

He'd
been fifteen the first time he'd gone in, with no ID, no plan and a hell of a
lot of balls. He'd walked right up to the bar and ordered a beer, then promptly
got into a fight with two locals who recognized him as the freak of nature.
Literally.

It
didn't stop the women, most of whom were convinced they'd be the one to handle
him.
Conquer Remy and his insatiable urges. Let him try to screw you until
you lose your mind
.

He'd
taken a lot of them up on their offers. Too many. And he'd gotten nothing in
return except partial, temporary relief.

Thunder
boomed outside and lightning tore at the sky, reminding him of who he was. Of
what his future held. He closed his eyes and saw the tattoo—Haley's
tattoo—flash on his brain.

"Why
the fuck did you come outside?" he demanded suddenly, and grabbed Haley by
the shoulders.

"Because
they were going to hurt you! And you were just standing there, ready to let
them." She didn't try to pull away. If anything, she pushed her chest
toward him, chin jutted, like she was ready to go toe-to-toe with him.

The
temperature plummeted as his emotions stirred again, and the wind whipped the
already battered house. He needed to keep it together, but somehow, it wasn't
working. Not tonight, and no matter how hard he tried.

"You're
dealing with something you know nothing about," he warned, but she refused
to be deterred.

"I
know those people are afraid of you. I know they wanted to hurt you. And I know
that's not the first time something like this has happened." Her voice softened.
"Tell me why they're afraid, T-Remy."

"Don't
call me that," he said, as the familiar hum began to vibrate inside his
skull. And Haley was reaching up to stroke his hair, his cheek. His cock began
to harden, ache with need, and Haley looked at him as if she knew. Her body
melded against his easily, the longing increased and he felt like he was
breathing through water.

"Dammit,
Haley, why didn't you just let me leave when I wanted to?"

"Because
you need me," she said.

"I
don't need anyone. Get that through your head."

"I
can help you."

"No
one can help me." He pushed away from her and covered his ears in an
attempt to stop the pressure from building, but it was too late. The ringing in
his ears was almost unbearable, like a train attempting to drive straight
through his head.

His
groin throbbed, rock hard, and Haley's touch to his arm made it worse.

"Tell
me what's happening," she was saying, but her voice sounded far away. He
reached out for her, because as painful as it was to touch her, things were going
to be much worse if he couldn't be with her. And soon.

"I
can't tell you. I can show you," he said after a minute, when he knew he
couldn't wait any longer.

He
grabbed her around the waist and pulled her so close that she went up on her
toes, and then he started moving. She was forced to wrap herself around him,
legs secured at his waist as he walked them both through the house and out the
already broken back door, which tore off its hinges when he kicked it open.

The
wind howled wildly, kicking up everything in a swirl out Remy's feet. And then
the rain started, the large drops landing with small thuds into the already
soaked earth in a large ring around them. He closed his eyes, held Haley tight
against him and wondered if what he wanted to show her was going to work when
he was already this far out of control.

He
opened his eyes when he heard but didn't feel the raindrops. It took Haley a
minute longer to realize that they weren't getting wet at all, and she stared
from the sky to him and back up again, and he mustered every ounce of willpower
to keep from pushing her into the soft earth and taking her while the rain
spilled all around them.

"You're
really doing this, aren't you?" she asked, touching his cheek like he'd
just given her some kind of great gift. "How are you doing it?"

"It's
complicated," he whispered.

"It's
magical," she whispered back, and just like that, the mood broke. Because
it wasn't magic to him. It was painful and freakish and everything he didn't
want anymore.

He
dropped her, waited until she was steady on her feet before walking away.

"Why
are you doing this to me?" he yelled at the sky, fists in the air. Mother
Nature answered in kind with flashes of intense lightning that were too close
for comfort for most people. Not for him, and not for Haley either, because she
was reaching for him.

He
pulled away from her grasp, continued to rant at the sky, the way he'd wanted
to earlier when Mother Nature had taken the bridge—and his only hope of getting
out of here soon.

"What
the hell do you want from me?" he yelled, the thunder rolling in his brain
and in the sky, booming as loud as he'd ever heard it, until he didn't know if
he was holding the sky hostage or if it was the other way around. Until he
didn't care.

He
sank to his knees. "I don't know how to handle this. I don't know what you
want from me.
Quoi tu veux
," he murmured, over and over, until the
whirring noise slowed and his fingers curled deep into the mud.

"Remy,
come inside."

"Leave
me."

"No,
I won't do that." Haley's hands were strong on his shoulders, pulling him
up from the ground.

"Just
tell her to leave me alone," he mumbled.

"Tell
who, Remy?" she asked, and he started, as though seeing her for the first
time. Her eyes were a brilliant blue, the color of the sky on a clear day, her
cheeks flushed, her hair wild around her shoulders, and his blood surged hot.
Nearly uncontrollable.

It
was no use—he was never going to be free of this fever.

"Haley,
you need to go. Get inside. Please." His voice sounded raspy, nearly
unrecognizable as he begged her.

"I'm
not leaving you alone out here. Come inside with me," she said, her tone
more like a command than a request, and any semblance of control he'd had
snapped.

He
reached for her, pressed his body against hers as if readying her for that
frenzy building inside of him. He'd had her before, and she'd liked it. He
wasn't going to ask her to leave again.

"Coming
sounds like a good idea, Haley," he murmured in her ear. "Are you
going to come for me, with me, again and again, until you can't stand it
anymore, until you can't see straight?"

"Is
that what you want?" she asked.

"Not
want. Need." He gripped her hips and urged her down to her knees.
"Need to fuck you, right here. Need to be inside you now."

His
scalp pulled tight, his skin itched and tingled like so many electric shocks
that had built up along the pressure points of his body. Lightning illuminated
the sky, partnering with the thunder right on its heels at an impossibly fast
rate.

He
ripped the shredded remains of her underwear off her hips in order to get to
her before he eased her onto her back. He'd barely yanked down his own pants
before he plunged into her, took her there, in the mud, with their legs
tangled, bodies slick with rain and sweat, lifting her hips off the ground with
each firm stroke.

He
remained on his knees, with his arms fully extended for leverage so he could
drive himself inside her deeper still, and Haley's hands were slipping off the
slick skin of his shoulders as she attempted to climb him. When she finally
succeeded, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his chest to hers so
they were locked together, moving as a single unit, his weight bearing all of
hers.

She
licked his throat, then suckled the sensitive skin at the base of his
collarbone, and he groaned, fought to get a firm hold in the mud beneath his
palms. He ended up on his elbows instead, and her hands began to roam his back,
drifting lower. When she began to finger his ass, he jerked in surprise and found
her smiling up at him.

"Jesus,
Haley," he groaned, and still she continued to work him in a way he'd
never allowed anyone to before, the pad of her thumb pressing the puckered
hole, the balance of power slowly shifting with each of her caresses. When she
penetrated, he came with an unexpected ferocity, his toes curling, yelling
something even he couldn't understand. And then his body weight settled onto
hers as though he'd never rise again.

But
Haley, not through with him, surprised and roused him when she rolled them in
one fast move. His back hit the warm mud with a loud, thumping squish, even as
she kept a hold on his shoulders. He was still inside her, somehow still
impossibly hard. He thrust his hips up, driving himself as far as he could,
until he was the one who couldn't see straight. She was practically holding him
down as she started a long, slow slide up and down his cock.

He
struggled to sit up, to flip her, but it was no use when he was this deep in
the pleasure she gave him. He wanted this, had to have this over and over, and
it didn't matter what position he was in when he was getting his fill.

She
arched back, her thighs pressing his as her slick heat contracted around him,
and he let his next orgasm roll through him. Another one came fast on its heels
and he was coming with such force that he wondered if he'd ever gain any kind
of control over himself again.

A
sudden surge of energy blasted through him, and he sat up, Haley still on top
of him. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and put his forehead against hers.