Vertigo sucked Helen’s perception in and out in blurry contractions. The content of her vision bombarded her memory. She couldn’t pinpoint how her clone fit in, but now she had evidence verifying the significance of masks.
“What did the masks look like?” She supposed she asked out of some sense of false hope, denial. Because she knew what he’d say, like she sometimes knew what song would play on the radio a moment before a tune started.
“Mirrored slabs.” He drew the syllables out it a flat cadence laced with bitterness. “Except mine. Mine was a skull. There was a woman there with a long scar and a brand on her body, too. I left before I saw anything more disturbing. Got the hell out of that box of rabies.”
Poor Brian, having to endure such hell. She rested a palm over his knuckles, squeezing support into him. “That’s horrible. And you did the right thing by leaving.”
He gave a wan smile. Puffy red pads lined the undersides of his lids, the physical evidence of his distress slicing through her. The incident clearly upset him. Apt response.
“There was a time, around a year ago, where I thought I could trust Joe. He was so, so good at pretending to be my friend, my advocate, a rare champion among the social climbers. He’d talk me up, praise me, and I always felt proper chuffed when he was around. A manipulation tactic, but my ego didn’t let me see it for what it was.”
She nodded, listening, a bath toy adrift in the ocean of Brian’s confession. And she needed to channel Poseidon’s strength and stop these assholes before they made their next move. “But then he showed you who he really was.”
Pain shone behind Brian’s eyes in a stark gleam. “Yeah. I’m grateful for all I have, but there’s this cost. I’m careful, I’m cautious, I act smart. And then I feel safe, okay, and I let my guard down. I go, ‘this one’s good people. A friend, not a ghoul. I’m not alone.’ And that’s the second they strike. They plunge the knife in every time. And you’re back at square one. Alone in the darkness. Where nobody cares.” He pursed his lips.
Deep inside Helen, a balloon burst and filled her chest with compassion. She placed her hand over Brian’s sternum. His heart thumped beneath soft cotton and the press of her palm.
“I care.” She slid the hand from his chest to his cheek, finding his lived-in skin firm but not baby-soft. A single bead of warm water slipped from his eye and wetted her finger pad. Right then, her heart shattered into a billion shards. “I’ll protect you.”
Bemusement brought a knitted element to Brian’s gentle face. “I appreciate the gesture, but how? You’re in exquisite shape, but you don’t strike me as the bodyguard sort.”
Helen lifted her bottom off of the couch, leaned up, and pressed her mouth to Brian’s. She massaged and nibbled his top and bottom lips, treating each to equal attention.
Lavishing, she willed magic into the union of their flesh, pretending she could bless a kiss with the power to cure his pain.
A moan left his throat, and he kissed her back. He deepened their contact, moving a hand to rub the back of her head, his skilled lips sucking hers. His taste, minty fresh, its uniqueness woody-sweet, spun her into a cloud of arousal.
She slid her tongue in to take his inviting, warm and wet cave. At her invasion, a startled little growl, a sound male and animal and so damn raw, leapt from Brian.
Tongues nudged, stroked, savored. She licked his teeth, diving deeper, and allowed her hand to rove to his trim abdomen. Helen sent her wandering and shameless hand to his waistband.
Brian’s tongue stiffened against hers. His probes grew faster and deeper, became sublimated fucking. Oral thrusts claimed her. The grip in her hair tightened. She matched him plunge for plunge, her tongue as bold and curious as his. Her hand, equally so, ventured down and touched his full erection over his jeans. The hard length of him, so long and wide, pushed stiffness into cloth. She stroked his bulge and landed at a wide crown close to his waistband.
He groaned into her mouth, a pained sound of need, crushing their lips into urgent congress.
Helen rubbed Brian’s swollen tip, the pads of her index and middle fingers gathering hot friction against denim. His heart sounds merged with hers. The musky scent of his excitement drifted up. She fumbled with the snap on his jeans, ready to kneel before him and make him feel incredible. Because this man deserved a great blowjob, and so much more. More than she could give, but she’d damn sure offer whatever she could.
Brian broke the kiss. Lips swollen and wet, he looked at her like she was a scrumptious meal he wanted to devour. “Not the best idea.”
“Right. Need to stay on track. Research.”
“Research mode requires cold shower. Be right back.” Brian brushed a kiss to her cheek, rose, and walked down the hallway. Water ran.
Helen lost her grip to a bizarre, uncanny relative of déjà vu. She blinked, spacey. A misty whirlpool coiled below her navel, whipping in frantic circles, gathering steam. This sensation marked the onset of curse activity, a type of clarion call.
While she awaited the energy’s rushing from her body and darting in the direction of the crystal, Helen reached for her bag. From now on, she’d track nefarious behavior in her journal and search for patterns.
A whoosh, as deafening as a howling gust in a wind tunnel,
