Sin Eater (11 page)

She fish-mouthed a bit, not sure what to make of him. “Nice to see you, Damien, was it?”

The man from the drug store bowed his head in acknowledgement, releasing her hand and turned to Dawson. “I happened to see them run in here, and when it appeared this piece of shit had the upper hand I’m sorry, but I had to at least assist. Although, Sergeant Bauer seems more than capable of handling herself.” And his voice showed how impressed he was.

Dawson was still suspicious, but he nodded. “She’s pretty tough, but again, thanks for your assistance Mister …”

“Talon.” Damien shook his hand. “As long as you’ve got the guy.”

Claudia was trying to concentrate on everything being said, but Damien’s voice was like a warm breeze on bare skin. What kind of accent was that? It was thick and masculine,
not Russian but sort of like that. More guttural, like German. But not that either.

The man on the ground started cursing at her again, so she yanked him to his feet and handed him off to Dawson like a load of laundry.

“Shut up,” Dawson advised him. “Don’t start spilling until we’ve got you in an interrogation room.”

The other officers also arrived, and the man was herded to a patrol car that had been dispatched to the alley. As they all left, Constable Vance from the other night looked at Claudia, shaking his head. “Go home, Sergeant,” he advised.

“Note that you addressed me as Sergeant,
Constable
.”

“It’s not an order. You’ve been assaulted, you’re bleeding, that’s cause enough to end your shift early. File a report and then go home.”

Then Vance turned his authoritative attentions to Damien. “Sir, I hate to bother you since you have done us a good turn by helping out our Sergeant, but we’d like you to issue a statement if you wouldn’t mind. Just to show he was resisting arrest.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem at all.”

Claudia couldn’t stop staring at him, and she knew it had gone on too long when Vance cleared his throat. “Claudia? You okay?”

She shook her head, rubbing her temple. “Yeah, I’m fine, really. I don’t need to go home.”

“The hell you don’t,” Vance muttered, his eyes flickering from her and then back to her rescuer. Who was totally
not
her type. In the least.
Right?

“Are you all right?” Damien asked, putting a hand to her elbow.

She jerked it away from him. “Fine.” He seemed startled by her movement. How could she tell him that it wasn’t because she found it offensive or unwelcome? How could she tell him that it was because she liked it?

“After you,” he held an arm out, and she exited the alleyway
ahead of him. Her boot kicked the beer bottle the suspect has slipped on, and it hit the wall, shattering instantly.

The Sin Eater followed Iola’s friend out of the alley, assuring the other Constable that he would trail them to the station to file his statement. They let him drive himself in his car, of course, because that’s what he wanted them to do.
And
he wanted to keep an eye on the Claudia woman.

The way she’d been able to defend herself had been impressive. But he wasn’t surprised anymore at the strength of the female sex. God knew he’d been around long enough to see plenty of evidence that women were just as tough, strong and resilient as men. It took the
mind
to make someone truly weak, moldable. Whether a penis was involved or not, if the
mind
was strong and the intellect sharp, strength wasn’t even a question. He’d seen muscle-bound schmucks unable to act to save their families from one human danger, and diminutive women who could move armies by simply raising an eyebrow. Physicality had nothing to do with it.

This Claudia woman seemed to have the benefit of many types of strength. She was smart, physically strong, and very intuitive. Now that he’d been “inside,” so to speak, he saw that her frailty came from what others had done to her. Her strength was also armor. He knew her better alrea
dy than some married couples knew each other. So he’d use this gained knowledge to keep himself in her mind.

She was a connection to his Iola, after all. He’d been in her body, taken it over in order to know
what a kiss from Iola would be like. And while he’d been in there,
that’s
when he’d gained such private knowledge.

He could never make a human do what they weren’t already wanting to do, even on the smallest level, without completely taking over their physical form – which was
exhausting
. He was a helpful nudge at most. More like the influence of alcohol than the absence of free will. They were less inhibited, but their boundaries were basically the same. So he knew this woman desired Iola. That explained the … kinship he felt with her.

So she preferred women. That had never mattered to him before. After seeing the glimpses of the past she kept buried, he understood how homosexuality in women could be a choice.  Raped by a friend’s older brother when she was fourteen, then raped again in college. What had happened to her then was fully in her mind, but her own defense mechanism on that was to let the alcohol be the excuse to not remember. She didn’t even know she was protecting herself that way. And he could see that she had never been with a man sober or willingly. She could be a challenge …

He couldn’t think like that. She was an “in” to Iola, a connection he could use. “Damien” had to be on his very best behaviour to earn her trust.

Iola fiddled with her keys, standing awkwardly in front of her apartment door, not sure what she was supposed to do next. Dinner had been wonderful, Vinnie had not allowed her to pay for her meal, and had brought her right home after a nice, long, leisurely visit in Ricardo’s lounge. She wasn’t intoxicated, but she was under the influence of something.

Every part of her was ready to jump him, but Vinnie was agonizingly gentlemanly. He stood before her, smiling unassumingly, gazing down at her like he’d be happy to just look at her all day.

“Thank you, so much,” she finally said, wondering why her voice sounded so loud in the hallway. “I had a lovely time.”

“So did I,” he said agreeably, then stepped forward.

Now we’re getting to it,
she thought, feeling an anxiety in her chest. It’d been a while since she’d been kissed. Had they changed it in some way? What if she messed it up? What if she was so sexed up she scared him away?

He put his hand on her waist lightly, just above her hip, and put his other hand to her cheek, his hand barely brushing against her. She took a deep breath at the contact. His hands were so warm …

He dropped his eye lids, then pressed his lips to hers very softly.

She wanted to sigh, but that would have meant breathing, and she had just apparently decided to quit that. The heat of his lips was there, the softness of the touch making her want him to press those kisses all over her … and then he backed up.

Her eyes flew open, and he was disengaging himself, still smiling. “Thank you,” he said. “Can I call you again?”

She just nodded, then he made his way back to the stairwell.

She opened her door, closed it behind her and leaned on it. She touched her lips, as though looking for proof the kiss had actually happened. It had been nice and sweet but …

“Well that was disappointing,” she muttered under her breath.

There was a knock on the door and she jumped, then pulled it open without checking to see who was there.

“I can do better than that,” Vinnie was saying as he wound one hand around the nape of her neck, circling her back with his other arm and pulling her close forcefully, his lips on hers still respectful, but definitely more passionate.

She moaned, and he kept her upright as though he thought her knees might have buckled. He didn’t push her back into her place, he kept her in neutral territory in the hallway. She fell back against the doorway, not hurting herself in the least. One of her hands was grasping his lapel of his jacket, the other was looped around his neck.

She slid her tongue in
to his mouth, and he met it eagerly, stroking it with his own, his lips mashing against hers roughly. She was flushed, breathing heavily, and when the hand on the small of her back slipped down to caress her butt, she moaned louder without breaking contact with that mouth …

“Iola,” he said, stopping for air and to add in a whisper, “oh my God.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, totally shocked by her own reaction.

“Don’t be sorry,” he laughed, taking his hand off her ass and caressing her more northerly cheek. “Never be sorry. Kissing you is like … I don’t even know. It’s amazing.”

She smiled at him, letting her eyes fall closed. “You’re very good at it.”

“After that, I feel like I’ve never
really
kissed anyone before.”

“
After that kiss I’d have to say you were lying.”

He gave her another peck, and when she tried to follow him as he raised his head again he laughed. “Iola, don’t tempt me, please.”

She stopped, backing up. “Oh shit, I’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t be sorry. I want … I want to see you again. Can I?”

She nodded eagerly, and he held her face by the chin as he gave her another controlled kiss before backing up, breaking contact with her body. “Goodnight, Iola.”

Iola gave a small wave, still leaning on the door jamb. “Good night, Veneratio.”

He seemed pleased that she used his proper first name, then headed back down the stairs. She took a moment to calm her pulse before returning to her apartment.

Mmm hmm,
she agreed.
Much better
.

Claudia ducked back around the corner of the building, moving quickly so she didn’t run into Doctor Latin what’s-his-name Romeo. He was exiting the stairwell then striding on long legs to his car. When she heard it pull away in the opposite direction she finally circled back to the door and silently made her way up to her apartment.

Once inside she threw all the locks, pulled off her belt, dropped it on the sofa and went to the bathroom while dropping clothing in her wake.

She was sore, bruised, and now her heart was aching too.

She hadn’t meant to see Iola and the Doc kissing in the hallway, she thought she might have missed them coming back. But there they were;
spot lit by a pot light in the hall, wrapped around each other and clearly enjoying the experience.

Iola had looked so beautiful, her face a mask of pleasure, her small body fitting against the doctor’s physique like it was meant to be. And the way he was kissing her, holding her and working his hand down her back convinced Claudia he’d know how to make love good and proper. Just how Iola would like it. She’d left when his hand had cupped Iola’s butt and she’d made that gloriously erotic sound.

Claudia stood under the showerhead, telling herself she was
not
in love with her best friend. There was no way, no how. It was a disastrous concept.

But her
chest was aching, and it was nowhere near where that little freak had kicked her. She looked down at her side, and a bruise was forming on her rib cage. Luckily nothing got broken. Her jaw was going to be tender for a while, though. And bruised. And swollen.

Charles Goodwin had been his name. They had an address on him, and when patrol had stopped by his apartment they found one hell of a huge bloodstain on the living room floor, blood all over the bathroom, and a handsaw in the sink. He’d apparently lost his nerve chopping her up, because there was also vomit on the bathroom tiles. Case pretty much closed.

Claudia was more troubled at the fact that a civilian had come to her rescue. Maybe “irked” was a better way to put it.

Was it the fact he’d helped her, or … the reaction she’d had to him.

It was nothing. Just push it away. You’re sexually frustrated right now, attracted to someone you can’t have, and now this.

But his voice and his eyes and his hand on the bare skin of her elbow … Her heart fluttered. She felt like she might be blushing. Claudia felt her body warm everywhere, and it wasn’t the shower. It was that Damien. Who the hell was that guy?

What did it matter? At the thought of him her body was in overdrive, almost like when she thought too long and hard and inappropriately about Iola.

A man had aroused her. How had she let that happen?

He was everything she’d never been attracted to. Tall. Wide shoulders. Heavily muscled. Dark in every way: thick dark hair. Olive skin. Lips that didn’t just ask you to kiss them: they wanted you to chew on them. Be rough with them. And those purple eyes were a real trip: otherworldly, almost. The crinkles around his eyes meant he smiled a lot, too. And that smile tickled parts of her she couldn’t think about without feeling all warm.

“Although, Sergeant Bauer seems more than capable of handling herself.”
Her eyes closed at the memory of his voice, deep, rumbling, so male. Damn straight she did.

She hesitantly moved her hand down her stomach, pausing like her intention was ridiculous. But the memory of him smiling at her … she slid her hand between her legs, not at all surprised to find herself already halfway to heaven. His smile seemed to imply he knew what she would be doing later on anyway. Why disappoint?

She closed her eyes, leaning her other hand on the shower wall. As the orgasm rolled out and through her, she cried out very softly, biting her lip. She steadied her breathing and then shook her head as though gathering herself. She shampooed her hair, did a careful body wash, mindful of the bruises, and then got out of the shower wrapping herself in a giant, fluffy towel. She decided she wanted to go out tonight. She was going out alone, and hopefully not coming home that way.

The Sin Eater watched the Good Boy leave the apartment. He almost felt a protective growl build up in the back of his throat, but that wasn’t fair.

The
doctor looked happy, maybe a bit sexed up. All in all he was honest, authentic sweetness. The Sin Eater couldn’t get a reading on the doc’s thoughts, which was worrisome, but he knew what the skip in his step meant. His smile told him everything else he needed to know.

Damn it. The guy
was
perfect. What Iola likely deserved.

The Sin Eater watched the police woman, also known as Iola’s friend and neighbour, enter the building. She was clearly avoiding having to see that doctor. He could smell her sadness, and it closely resembled his own, only with a lot more true love and caring. It smelled like rain. She was heartbroken as she climbed the stairs.

The Sin Eater felt bad; he could relate. He too desired what he couldn’t have. This Claudia had slightly more pure intentions than he did, true. But he was also disarmed in that way that people in love experience. After all, if he couldn’t reach into Iola’s mind, could he understand her? Please her? He wasn’t so sure. He’d never gone in “blind,” so to speak. How the hell did humans do it?

He could pick up the friend’s brain signature inside her apartment, and he felt her heartache. Poor thing. The frailty came out when she was alone.

He put the car in gear, but suddenly froze with his hand on the shifter.

She was … thinking about him. With heat.

He closed his eyes, locking down all his senses to concentrate on hers. And he smiled.

He was such a bastard, but he couldn’t help that the majority of women were drawn to him. There was some evil, cosmic trick in his genetic make-up, for lack of a better term. Men he co
uld charm easily, but women were always going to desire him physically.

When Claudia touched herself, he found his body responding in kind. He even felt his breathing
speed up, he could feel the warm water of her shower washing across him like he was there. He could feel the pull building in her belly, the tension itself so incredibly delectable. She made herself hold off, reveling in that anticipation until she was imagining him inside her body, frantically and roughly thrusting away until she gave the softest of cries, at odds with the violence of what she imagined he would do to her. He withheld his own orgasm of course. He couldn’t be caught playing with himself in a parked car. But he felt hers twitch down the back of his neck. He even smiled as she did.

The Sin Eater could feel her thoughts
and
intentions. Claudia wanted to go out looking for trouble. Because he had put her in the
mood
for bad decision-making.

Looks like he already had a foot in the door …

He sat in the waiting room at the clinic, chewing his nail. If the wait was much longer he was going to
lose it. And his apparent impatience was making the poor nurse at the desk very nervous. But he couldn’t stop twitching.

He had to find out what the hell was happening to him. Right. Now.

When they finally called his name he burst out of the waiting room, following the other nurse down a short hall to the exam room. She told him to change into the paper gown on the table, and then left him alone.

He got ready quickly, but this was just in preparation for more waiting. He paced this room, since no one was there to unnerve.

He hadn’t used his real name, pulled one from … who knows where. The nurses hadn’t even asked him for ID, almost like his
willing
them to believe him had made it so.

So now he just had to get the doc to take his blood or
something
, just to explain what it
might
be. Because he sure hadn’t found anything online.

When the doctor came in, he wanted to curse. It was a woman, and she was attractive. At least she
looked professional, so he figured he could tell her
everything
that happened.

“So, Mr. Chang. What seems to be wrong?” She wasn’t suspicious that he didn’t look Asian in the least. So that was in his favour already.

“I ah, I woke up this afternoon after taking a nap, but I had stuff gunking up my eyes. It was … it was dark, dark red. And really thick. I washed it off, but it really stunk, too. Then I … I uh … I ejaculated, and it was red, too.”

“Did either event hurt? Your eyes or the ejaculation?”

Yeah, she was professional. The question came out like she was asking if he drank eight glasses of water a day. She was also moving closer while pulling a penlight out of her white pocket.