Twilight Phantasies. Maggie Shayne
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had suddenly been filled simply by seeing this familiar man. The words that swirled and eddied in her mind, and which she only barely restrained herself from blurting, were absurd. Thank God you’ve come back…I’ve missed you so…please, don’t leave me again…I’ll die if you leave me again.
She felt tears filling her eyes, and she wanted to turn away so he wouldn’t see them. The pain in his flickered and then vanished, so she wondered if she’d truly seen it there. He stared so intensely, and the peculiar feeling that he somehow saw inside her mind hit her with ridiculous certainty.
She wanted to turn and run away. She wanted him to hold her forever. I’m losing my mind.
“No, sweet. You are perfectly sane, never doubt that.” His voice caressed her.
She drew a breath. She hadn’t spoken the thought aloud, had she? He’d…my God, he’d read her mind.
Impossible! He couldn’t have. She stared at his sensual mouth again, licked her lips. Had he read her mind? I want you to kiss me, she thought, deliberately.
A silent voice whispered a reply inside her brain—his voice. A test? I couldn’t think of a more pleasant one.
She watched, mesmerized, as his head came down. His mouth relaxed over hers, and she allowed her lips to part at his gentle nudging. At the instant his moist, warm tongue slipped into her mouth to stroke hers, a jolt went through her. Not a sudden rush of physical desire. No, this felt like an actual electric current, hammering from the point of contact, through her body to exit through the soles of her feet. It rocked her and left her weak.
His hands moved up, over her back. His fingertips danced along her nape and higher, until he’d buried them in her hair. With his hands at the back of her head he pressed her nearer, tilting her to the angle that best fit him, and preventing her pulling away as his tongue stroked deeper, kindling fires in her belly.
Finally his lips slid away from hers, and she thought the kiss had ended. Instead it only changed form. He trailed his moist lips along the line of her jaw. He flicked his tongue over the sensitized skin just below her ear. He moved his lips caressingly to her throat, and her head fell back on its own. Her hands cupped his head, and pressed him closer. Her eyes fluttered closed and she felt so light-headed she was sure she must be about to faint.
He sucked the tender skin between his teeth. She felt sharp incisors skim the soft flesh as he suckled her there like a babe at its mother’s breast. She felt him shudder, heard him groan as if tortured. He lifted his head from her, and his hands straightened hers so he could gaze into her eyes. For an instant there seemed to be light in them—an unnatural glow shining from somewhere beyond the ebony.
His voice, when he spoke, sounded rough and shaky. It was no longer the soothing honey that had coated her ears earlier. “What is it you want of me? And take care not to ask too much, Tamara. I fear I can refuse you nothing.”
She frowned. “I don’t want—” She sucked air through her teeth, stepping out of his arms. “How do you know my name?”
Slowly the spell faded. She breathed deeply, evenly. What had she done? Since when did she go around kissing strangers in the middle of the night?
“The same way you know mine,” he said, his voice regaining some of its former strength and tone.
“I don’t know yours! And how could you—why did you…” She shook her head angrily and couldn’t finish the sentence. After all, she’d kissed him as much as he’d kissed her.
“Come, Tamara, we both know you summoned me here, so stop this pretense. I only want to know what troubles you.”
“Summoned you—I most certainly did not summon you. How could I? I don’t even know you!”
One brow shot upward. Tamara’s hand flew to her mouth because she’d pictured him with just such an expression. She had no time to consider it, though, since his next odd question came so quickly. “And do you know him?”
He glanced toward the street and she followed his gaze, catching her breath when she saw Curt’s DPI van parked there. She knew it was his by the rust spot just beneath the side mirror on the driver’s door. She could barely believe he had the audacity to spy on her. On an indignant sigh she whispered, “He followed me. Why, that heavy-handed son of a—”
“Very good, although I suspect his reason for being posted there is known to you full well. This was a trap, was it not? Lure me here, and then your attentive friend over there—”
“Lure you here? Why on earth would I lure you here, and how, for God’s sake? I told you I’ve never seen you before.”
“You call to me nightly, Tamara. You’ve begged me to come to you until you’ve nearly driven me insane.”
“I don’t think it would be a long trip. I told you, I haven’t called you. I don’t even know your name.”
Again his gaze searched her face and she felt her mind being searched. He sighed, frowning until his brows met. “Suppose you tell me why you think that gent would follow you, then?”
“Knowing Curt, he probably thinks it’s for my own good. God knows he tosses that phrase around enough lately.” Her anger softened a bit, as she thought it through more thoroughly. “He might be a little worried about me. I know Daniel is…my guardian, that is. Frankly, I’m worried myself. I don’t sleep at night anymore—not ever. The only time I feel even slightly like sleeping is during the day. In fact, I’ve fallen asleep at my desk twice now. I take to my bed the second I get home and sleep like a rock, but only until dusk. Just at nightfall I have terrible nightmares and usually cry out loud enough to convince them both I’m losing my mind, and then I’m up and restless all night lo—” She broke off, realizing she was blurting her life story to a perfect stranger.
“Please don’t stop,” he said at once. He seemed keenly interested in hearing more. “Tell me about these nightmares.” He must’ve seen her wariness. He reached out to her, touched her cheek with the tips of his long, narrow fingers. “I only want to help you. I mean you no harm.”
She shook her head. “You’ll only agree with me that I’m slipping around the bend.” He frowned. “Cracking up,” she explained. She pointed one finger at her ear and made little circles. “Wacko.”
“You most certainly are not…wacko, as you put it.” His hand slipped around to the back of her head and he drew her nearer. She didn’t resist. She hadn’t felt so perfectly at peace in months as she felt in his arms. He held her gently against him, as if she were a small child, and one hand stroked her hair. “Tell me, Tamara.”
She sighed, unable to resist the smooth allure of his voice, or of his touch, though she knew it made no sense. “It’s dark, and there is a jungle of sorts, and a lot of fog and mist covering the ground so I can’t see my feet. I trip a lot as I run. I don’t know if I’m running toward something or away from something. I know I’m looking for someone, and in the dream I know that person can help me find my way. But I call and call and he doesn’t answer.”
He stopped stroking her hair all at once, and she thought he tensed. “To whom do you call?”
“I think that might be what’s driving me crazy. I can never remember. I wake as breathless and exhausted as if I really had been running through that forest, sometimes halfway through shouting his name—but I just can’t remember.”
His breath escaped in a rush. “Tamara, how does the dream make you feel?”
She stepped away from him and studied his face. “Are you a psychologist?”
“No.”
“Then I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.” She tried to pull her gaze from his familiar face. “Because I really don’t know you.”
She stiffened as her name was shouted from across the ice. “Tammy!”
She grimaced. “I hate when he calls me