Sin Eater (3 page)

She straightened
her back where she stood, squaring her shoulders. Keeping her composure, she turned, trying to see it someone was behind her, grabbing her … but he knew she liked the sensation. He read it from her mind. Hell, she was even letting a small smile show as she tried to figure out where it came from. But she had the angle wrong, because in his mind he had her bent over in front of him, and now he imagined his hand sweeping up over her lower back, and pulling her against his hips as he bent to kiss her between the shoulder blades.

He watched the woman catch her breath, closing her eyes and weaving slightly on her feet. When she opened her eyes again she was blinking rapidly, a delicious flush to her cheeks. And she was looking right at him. She smiled.

Gotcha.

“Iola!”

The voice shouted at her as she was just about to cross the street to the subway platform. It was a female voice, but that didn’t matter. She palmed the pepper spray anyway, turning to see who was yelling at her. Then she smiled.

“What, you want to throw down with that? Trust me, I’m packing.” Claudia Bauer was standing next to her car, arms crossed over her chest. She was grinning, too. One long leg was out to the side, her hip jutting out, and she looked like she was ready to rumble if Iola got serious with the pepper spray.

Iola laughed, putting the can back in her purse. With Claudia she was more than safe. Claudia was as good as a bodyguard. “What are you up to tonight,
Sergeant
?” she said with a bit of a jibe.

Claudia might have had the face of a runway model, but one mention of it and she’d likely remove your gallbladder without the aid of surgical tools. She was a cop, on the SWAT team, and she was also in the Armed Forces reserves. A weekend warrior. She was the toughest
person
Iola had ever met. Most
men
were scared of her.

They had good reason to be. Claudia had a terrible past where many indignities and humiliations had been inflicted on her by men. So as a result, she had no use for them. Absolutely
no
use. What so ever.

They’d met when Iola moved
into her apartment just over two years ago. Claudia lived across the hall, and had been off duty as Iola was moving in. She’d helped her move in a few boxes and some furniture. Claudia had been very talkative, and it was only about a year of friendship later that she admitted she’d been checking Iola out the entire time.

Talk about dense. Iola had no idea. And Claudia said that’s how she could tell Iola was straight. But they got along great, and they both had wonky work schedules. Sometimes it would be weeks before they’d actually see each other.

“Are you off tonight?” Iola asked, approaching her friend.

“I am. And I think we should go get something to eat. I’m starved.”

“Where should we go?” Iola circled the car to the passenger side.

“Let’s try that new place on 19
th
.”

A diner that took the greasy-spoon genre very seriously. They’d been talking about it last week. Iola nodded. “Sounds good.”

Claudia drove her black Challenger like it was a Formula One car, so it took only about ten minutes to get to the heart of downtown where the bars were closing and the drunks were spilling out into the street. She parked outside what looked like a diner from an old
film noir
. Shift workers like cops and paramedics were in the know about the best places to get a varied menu at a good price. This spot had only been open a month, but rumour already had it rated at “delicious.”

They occupied a booth by the window, looked over the menu that was sitting on the table, and were ready to order when their waiter
arrived. That was how these late night places worked. He wasn’t going to push the special on you or suggest an appetizer. Just be ready to order.

Their waiter was about twenty-two, cute as a button, and at the sight of Claudia he was a bumbling mess. He dropped his pen, spilled the water he poured for them, and had a hell of a time saying, “Are you ready to order?”

Iola hid her smile out of embarrassment for him, but Claudia was … well, a bit dense and not as kind. She looked at him like he was having a seizure, and she wasn’t sympathetic.

“Are you alright, son?” She asked, sounding like a drill sergeant.

He balked, looking down at his notepad, then back at her. He wiped the palm of one hand on his pants and then nodded, stammering, “Y-yes. What … what can I get you ladies?”

“I’ll get the fish and chips,” Iola spoke up, saving him from Claudia’s withering glare.

“Steak sandwich. No gravy, thanks.”

He all but ran back to the kitchen, and that’s when Iola let herself laugh. “Claudia … you can be so cruel.”

“What do you mean?” Claudia asked, putting the menus back in their holder behind the ketchup bottle.

“
That guy was totally twitter-pated by the very sight of you, and you just … decimated him.”

Claudia shrugged. “Wasted effort, right? So, what’s up with you? Haven’t seen you in about a week.”

Iola shrugged. “Not much. I think I almost got mugged last night, but I scared the guy off. I think. I’m not sure how it happened but … he changed his mind and walked away.”

Claudia’s shoulders tightened under the snug T-shirt she wore, and it made the muscles in her arms stand out. “Where?”

“After I got off the subway, right on the corner by our building. The guy was on the train and he followed me. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice right when I got off, but … there he was.”

“So that explains the pepper spray. Would you recognize the guy if you saw him again?”

“Probably. He was dirty, his clothes were filthy. He was always scratching and twitching. And he stunk. If nothing else I could identify him by his stench.”

“Meth,” Claudia surmised, taking a drink of water. “I’ll tell patrol to case the subway platforms. Better to prevent than investigate, right?”

“I always thought that was the point of a strengthened police presence. So thanks.”

“I wish you’d get a car. Drive yourself places.”

“No parking spots, remember? You park a block and a half away from the building. I walk less than that to and from the subway platforms I use. So who’s smarter? I have no idea.”

“Good point. At least let me show you how to defend yourself.”

“I had my keys ready, just like you showed me.”

“Good. But there’s a few other things I can teach you.”

Iola let her voice get low and sexy. “I already told you, I’m not interested in wrestling.”

“Let a girl dream, Day.” She raised her hand and waved the waiter over. “I’m thirsty, you thirsty?”

“Be nice,” came Iola’s warning. “Bad enough you’re a cop. I’m already perpetually worried that people will spit in our food. Or worse.”

Claudia made a face at her, and then the waiter was back, all nerves and sweaty palms again. “Yes? Did you need something?”

“How about a beverage order?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, what can I get you?”

Claudia leaned forward on the table, smiling up at him brilliantly. “I am just
dying
for a glass of iced tea. I’m absolutely parched,” she explained, chin on her hand, pinky finger right at the corner of her mouth. “I am in desperate need of refreshment.” Then she licked the tip of her pinky and widened the smile further. “Can you help me with that,
Tyler
?”

He was transfixed, but he smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I can do that.” Then he started to leave.

“Oh, Tyler?”

He turned back to her, all goopy smiles and breathless again. “You forgot my friend.
Iola, sweetie, what would you like, honey?”

Iola smiled at
Tyler too, shaking her head. “I would just like a beer. Whatever you got, it will be fine.”

“Okay, no problem.” He turned back to fetch their drinks, and Claudia dropped her arm and the act.

She turned an expectant look on Iola. “Nice enough for you?”

“You’re terrible.”

“They’re so fucking ridiculous.”

“Who?”

“Men.”

“Oh, speaking of that - ”

“Don’t tell me you got laid? I know it’s been a while and I’m pretty sure I would have heard something. The walls are pretty thin.”

“No, I didn’t get laid, Claudia. And you’re right, you’d be the first to know. No, it’s … Jasper again.”

“Oh Christ. What did he do? Did he touch you? You don’t have to put up with that.”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Iola found it weird that Claudia got so protective when it came to Jasper. But whatever, she was a friend, right?  “He drunk dialed me tonight while I was at work.”

“What?”

“Yeah. He has the weekend off and he called me. He said … well, he wants to date me and I know that. But … like I’ve told him. I’m not interested in dating a co-worker. It’s too awkward, and especially when you start dating, you need space, right?”

“And you should only need to tell a guy ‘no’ once.”

“I feel sad for him sometimes. He’s a wreck.”

“Wow, sounds like a personal ad. You should totally hit that.” Her tone was dry and sarcastic.

Iola laughed. “He’s going to be so embarrassed the next time I see him.”

“Serves him right … the dumb ass.”

The Sin Eater enjoyed the view as the woman opened her door in front of him, leaning over just a bit, before she pushed it open, stepped through and stood to the side so he could enter her condo. He nodded his head in appreciation, surveying the view from the living room window. The city was stretched out in front of him, all lights and traffic and telecommunication towers. He knew this made it a valuable property, so whatever this Ellen did for a living was apparently pretty high-profile.

Before he could reach in
to her brain and find out what her occupation was, she was on him, pressing herself against his body tightly, hands on his shoulders, pushing her tongue into his mouth and moaning hotly.

All right then
. Apparently he’d really done a number on her, and she’d liked the look of him even more. When she approached him, he was pleased to note the scent of cocoa wafting ahead of her. She’d simply said, “I’m Ellen,” then just stared at him.

The Sin Eater used her mind to look at himself, gazing up at her. He let his eyes trail down, feeling her tingle as she sensed it, zinging up her spine.

“Ellen,” he said in his low, growling voice. “Would you care to join me for an espresso?”

“I have an espresso machine in my condo,” she said, and then blushed deeper. She couldn’t believe she’d just basically invited him to her place. She didn’t even know his name
…

He offered his hand. “I’m John.” Nice and ambiguous. And his real name didn’t transfer well in the English language.

“John. I’m not usually this forward but …” she didn’t let go of his hand. “Would you care to walk me to my building?”

“I’d be delighted.”

He stood and buttoned his suit coat, hiding that ridiculous bulge in his pants. Not that she would have noticed. She was staring at his face, his eyes, his mouth, and she kept licking her lips. It was a terrible distraction to him.

He offered his arm, and she loo
ped hers through it, falling into step beside him and staring at him with the same rapture she’d first shown.

Now, as she pushed his jacket off his shoulders and her fingers pulled at the buttons of his shirt in the dark, she had none of that false shyness. She wanted him, and the smell of chocolate was nearly overwhelming.

At first when he’d come to this world he’d found it easy to just seduce with the use of his mind. Nothing like he’d done to this woman on the street, much more blatant. He’d gone into bedrooms, pushed his way into their minds, inserted himself into their dreams and fucked their bodies and when they woke, they were already sure they’d given consent. Then he’d started planting orgasms in their psyche, just to make himself feel better about how easy it was to take advantage of them. He could do that; make men and women experience something they hadn’t really done. Like earth-shattering, write-a-letter-to-your-best-friend, did-you-catch-the-number-on-that-train orgasms.

When that got tiresome and he started to feel like a real bastard, he decided maybe he should just learn how to do it the good old fashioned way. If he could sense what people enjoyed, how har
d could it be to just listen to a woman’s thoughts and give her body what she wanted?

It wasn’t complicated after all, and really, all women kind of liked the same thing. Once you figured out if she was in soft and gentle mode, friendly playful mode, or leave the shoes on and just fuck me raw mode, it was all basically … the
same
. Pay attention to when she was climaxing, and don’t change
anything.

He could also get on whatever train of sensation they were experiencing; that was the really messed up part of it. He could assume their point of view, and feel their emotions and sensations. He could feel their orgasm as they went through it. And
that
…
that
was what he became addicted to. Men’s orgasms were great, intense and quick. But for a woman … he couldn’t believe the difference. And the seduction, the build-up, it was all necessary for that explosion to be perfect.

He pulled Ellen’s blouse off her shoulders, pressing his lips to her light brown flesh, i
nhaling the cocoa scent deep into his nostrils. His mouth tasted that skin along her collarbone, and her head fell back in a divine sigh, her body still, back under his control. And it was the lips on the flesh, nothing to do with his mind.