Possess Me (13 page)

MICHELLE WAS TIRED. GOOD TIRED, BUT STILL, SHE NEEDED
to find a new obsession. What had started as a way to make herself stronger, to feel safer after the mugging, had become a manic compulsion she didn’t know how to stop.

By now she knew so many ways to kick ass, she could probably give Jet Li a run for his money. As if any amount of physical training could protect her from the strength of a Loa, let alone a demonic entity in possession of a body. But it made her feel better, and it had made her leaner than she’d ever been in her life.

She’d never be as thin as Allegra—she had too much on the bottom and top for that—but she could definitely hold her own.

Right now, though, all she wanted was an actual shower, and the only place she was going to find that was at her mother’s house. Hopefully the landlord would send someone out about her own recently departed shower in the next day or two, but she wasn’t holding her breath.

“Mama? Where you at?” She rolled her eyes. How many years had she worked to get rid of her accent? And when had it come back so completely?

She walked through the kitchen, grabbing one of the candied pralines on the table and popping it into her mouth as she headed down the hall. The red door was closed; that meant her mother was granting someone a reading and she wasn’t to be disturbed.

She’d just hop in the shower, and maybe she could avoid running into whoever it was. She entered the bathroom, dropping her gym bag and stripping out of the sweat shorts and black sports bra.

Turning the water to the perfect temperature, she started the shower, glancing at herself in the mirror before she stepped in.

“Not bad at all.” If she did say so herself. She needed someone else to say it, and soon. She was so restless she’d even flirted with her cute Brazilian instructor today. He’d ended the class early, chattering nervously about his boyfriend making special plans for dinner.

She shrugged. Maybe she’d go out tonight. Without Allegra to look after, she’d be free to find the perfect distraction for the night.

Michelle stepped under the shower and moaned. This wasn’t exactly what she needed, but it helped. She reached for her favorite lavender soap, the soap her mother made herself, and lathered her body.

Her hands lingered over her breasts, her belly, as she let her thoughts drift to the evening ahead. The blues club she usually went to might not do the job tonight. She was too needy. She wasn’t in the mood to flirt coyly, hoping her intended target could work up the nerve to flirt back.

She slipped her fingers between her legs, shivering as she washed the sensitive lips of her sex. Yeah. She needed a sure thing tonight.

Her inner voice had a strange sense of humor. Even if it was right, Ben Adair was and had always been off limits. She just hadn’t been able to get the other night, and his part in it, out of her head.

She groaned, turning to let the water pound against her skin like a heated massage, relaxing the tight muscles of her back until she was leaning against the colorfully tiled wall, boneless.

“I wasn’t sure what he saw in you. But I know now. I have never seen such a sweet ass,
cher
.”

“Son of a bitch!” Michelle screeched and grabbed for the towel rack beside her head as soon as she heard the casual male voice behind her.

She ripped it from its moorings, whirling around with her weapon outstretched to meet . . . air. The porcelain bar hit the wall of the shower with a loud crash, breaking off several chunks of tile in the process.

“I don’t think the mambo will be too happy with what you’ve done to her shower. I know we got off to a rocky start,
cher
, but surely we don’t need to resort to violence.”

Michelle felt her jaw drop and her fingers loosened in shock, the towel bar clanging against the tub at her feet. “No way. It can’t be.”

“Mimi, honey, are you in there? Damn it, I’m coming in.” Ben’s concerned voice was quickly followed by a large bang as he broke through the locked bathroom door.

She closed her eyes. Of course. She was naked in the shower with a beautiful, if noncorporeal male, and Ben. He always had a fantastic sense of timing. “Go away, Adair.”

“I heard you scream and heard something break. Are you bleeding, baby? Just tell me if you’re hurt, or I’m coming in there after you.”

The man standing beside her started laughing, his white linen shirt and pants unaffected by the water pouring through him and onto her.

Michelle wasn’t finding the situation nearly as humorous. “I’m glad someone’s enjoying themselves.”

“Enjoying—Mimi, what are you talking about?”

His voice was closer and Michelle panicked. “No blood, Ben. I’m fine. Go away before I tell my mother to hex you.”

She heard the relief in his voice. “Your mama loves me far too much to harm a hair on my pretty head. Now turn off the water, and I’ll toss a towel over for you. I’m not leaving until I can see for myself that nothing is broken or out of place.”

“You know he means it,
cher
. Ben is just as stubborn as you are. Not that I mind. The longer you resist, the longer I can ogle all that . . .
flesh
.”

His voice was seductive. The way he openly surveyed her body. He had no shame. But she’d never imagined he did. No one could ever accuse him of being a gentleman. “Okay, Ben, turning off the water. Let’s get this over with.”

“Good girl,” Ben praised, all good humor once more. “For some reason I’m reminded of all those baths we were forced to take together after The Mamas would pull us out of whatever mud puddle we’d been rolling in. Maybe I should just come in there, relive the good old days.”

“Try to pretend you aren’t a total pervert for five minutes, can you? Hand me the damn towel.”

Ben tsked, throwing a plush green towel over the shower curtain and through the smirking Loa beside her. “Listen to that language. In your mother’s house no less. Good thing I closed the door.”

Michelle wrapped the towel around her, tucking the corner into her cleavage securely before ripping open the slender curtain. “I’m fine. See?
Fine
. Now you can go and let me get dressed and out of here before I lose my mind.”

“You are fine, Michelle. You make me wish I had a body at my disposal. Think I could convince Ben to loan me his for the night?”

“No!”

Ben frowned at her sudden outburst, looking around the room suspiciously. Before she had a chance to back away, he pounced, pulling her out of the shower and into his arms. Touching her.

Ben swore. “Sweet holy heaven.”

Michelle sighed. No avoiding it now. “Yep. That about sums it up. Say hello to Bone Daddy. I believe you two know each other.”

“THAT IS A NEAT TRICK, CHER. CAN HE HEAR ME, TOO?”
Bone Daddy stepped out of the bathtub as though he were exiting a limousine, just adding to the dreamlike feel of the moment. Michelle wished she was dreaming, but her luck hadn’t been that good lately.

“I can. Fuck me runnin’, I really can. But I thought you’d gone. How can you still be here . . . a Loa without a host?” Ben sounded fascinated, but not enough to loosen his grip on Michelle. She bit her lip as his thumbs caressed her wet shoulders. If he didn’t stop soon, she wouldn’t be responsible for her actions.

He pulled her closer and she felt that tingle along her temple, recalling why she’d avoided his touch all these years. Bone Daddy’s sensual voice was just the distraction she needed.

“I find I’m not ready to go back just yet,
mon ami
. Even without a horse to ride, I still enjoy the pleasures of this world more than the other.” He glanced meaningfully at Michelle’s towel-clad body. “Can you really blame me?”

Horse to ride
was a voodoo euphemism for possession. She’d seen her mother embrace the Loa spirits time and time again during the rituals she’d been allowed to go to when she was young. It had never scared her. It was just a part of their life. A part of their beliefs. Now she couldn’t imagine giving up that kind of control to anyone.

She leaned against Ben’s hard body and studied the Loa in front of them. He was almost too beautiful. Short dark curls framed a sinner’s face. His lashes were long, his lips full and pouty, and his eyes were the color of whiskey in the sun. He was lighter than her brother—“high yellow” was the term her grandmother would have used. It made her wonder, not for the first time . . . who was this Loa? Where did he come from? Most of the spirits that watched over and guided the believers and practitioners of voodoo had a story, a beginning. Bone Daddy had appeared out of nowhere.

“
Cher
, I can see the wheels turning in your head. You are a stubborn one. How can you think when you are practically naked, surrounded by men who find you irresistible? Weren’t you just caressing your body in the shower, wishing someone would release all that passion inside you? Relieve your need?”

Oh God. Ben’s body stilled against hers, his fingers stopping their unconscious caress as he leaned back to meet her gaze. “Mimi, is he right?” He closed his eyes, the feel of him inside her mind more arousing then invasive. “Fuck, he is. I can sense it. I’m right here, Mimi. I can give you everything you need.”

It was tempting. Being this close to him, the scent of him, was doing things to her. She looked at the base of his throat, the rapid beat of his pulse. She wanted to place her lips against that spot. Her tongue. She leaned closer.

“Ben? Michelle Francesca Toussaint, you tell your mother that you’re okay.”

Her forehead fell momentarily on Ben’s shoulder, her mother’s voice reminding her of where she was,
and
what she shouldn’t be doing. “I’m okay, Mama. I slipped in the shower and broke the towel rod.”

She stepped back slowly, away from Ben’s touch, bending to grab her fresh clothes from the open duffel bag. She ignored the men watching her as she slid on her thong and jiggled into her jeans, using her towel to shield herself from their view. She turned her back on them and dropped her towel, slipping a tank top over her head to the tune of their groans.

“You’re an evil temptress,
cher
, to tease him this way when you know how he wants you.”

Michelle whirled around to face the Loa. “You—stay away from me. And Ben”—she grabbed her bag and held it protectively against her chest—“thank you for your concern, but I don’t need you to help me with anything.”

She flew past her mother with an apology and a promise to call tomorrow. She had to get out of there. And she knew exactly where she was going tonight. Somewhere she could forget about spirits. Forget about Ben Adair. Somewhere she could only feel.

 

 

 

BEN KNEW BONE DADDY WAS NEARBY. HE HADN’T BEEN ABLE
to see him since those few shocking moments with Michelle earlier, but he could sense him. And if there was one thing he’d learned to trust over the years, it was his senses.

That’s why he was here instead of waiting outside of Michelle’s apartment. He’d had her skin beneath his hands long enough to receive some very interesting images. Including her decision to come to this place, a bar he’d been in once before a few years ago, before Michelle had come home.

She wasn’t here for the music.

He hesitated outside the nightclub, thinking about the reading Mambo Toussaint had given him before the crash in the bathroom had sent him running to the rescue.

The priestess had pulled out a handful of chicken bones and tossed them on the table while Ben and his mother sat in respectful silence. “You’re a watcher. A listener. Gifted in more ways than one man has a right to be, and for sure you know it.”

Ben blushed, ducking his head when she looked up at him with one raised brow. She lowered her gaze to the bones once more. “You have to do more than watch this time. You have to act. You have to fight.” Her forehead wrinkled with concern, and Ben felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. “There is an obstacle in front of you and what you want. I see darkness.”

She shook her head and stood up, gathering the bones in a patterned pouch and putting them away. “I’m sorry little one, I think I need to consult more than the bones.” She took his hand and Ben sensed her worry, worry about Michelle. He also heard a phrase that echoed loudly in his ears.

In voodoo they believed the soul of a person was split into two parts. The
ti bon ange
and the
gros bon ange
. The little and big guardian angels. His mother had told him that it was the
ti bon ange
, the flyer that left the body in sleep, that also made way when the Loa rode a body during a ritual.

“
Bon ange
? Are you worried for her soul, Mambo?”

Mambo Toussaint sighed. “When twins are born, the Loas known as the Marassa twins watch out for them. Occasionally, the Marassa gift one or both of the newborn twins with special abilities.”