Fire and Ash (Immortal Touch) (23 page)

One of her sneakers caught him in the
anklebone. “But it would make a really classy appetizer. Cerebral skewers…with finger sandwiches on the side.” She wiggled her fingers, giggling.

“That’s
sick.”

“Or you could grind my guts up into salsa…”

“Could you stop being gross for two seconds? Do you think?” Her disgusting talk about body parts wasn’t blending well with the vodka. What was with her and all this talk about dead people coming back? Coming to this cemetery was a stupid idea. It was just morbid, and her teasing was starting to get on his nerves.

The dead didn’t come back, after all. Everyone knew that.

~*~*~*~

The way Sami saw it, there were only two ways to deal with an addiction.

Either you quit cold turkey...or you continued to feed it until you eventually succumbed to a fatal overdose. Smart people chose the first alternative. They were able to see far enough into the future to know that the road they’d chosen would not end well. And so, even though there was no turning back, they took a detour instead and hoped for the best.

“But you’re not that smart, are you?”

The reflection in the steamy bathroom mirror cocked her head and stared back at Sami without answering. Their fingers touched, leaving prints on the damp glass, but there was no way of knowing who the prints belonged to. Certainly they weren’t Samara Porter’s. She was a tenacious, independent woman - not this pathetic pawn in some egomaniac’s perverse game. “Who are you?” she wondered aloud, but silence was the only reply.

Of course she was going to him. No matter what he did, no matter what he said, she didn’t have the strength to deny her hunger.
Once you acquired a taste for Beluga caviar, could you ever go back to dining on salmon? Nope…no way. And so she dried her hair and dressed as quickly as possible, and the hell with her mute compunction. She was who she was.

The elevator seemed to take forever to reach the sixteenth floor. It stopped on practically every floor in between, accepting and purging groups of laughing
tourists dressed for a night on the town. It might be midweek, but every night was a party in this place. A couple of extroverted young men tried to engage her in conversation, to no avail. She had no time to waste on spawning salmon.

A
ll too soon she had arrived. The door that led to nirvana - or maybe it was the netherworld. Heaven or hell…which was it? In either case, she was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Rubbing her palms against the fabric of her yellow babydoll dress, she wet her lips and timidly lifted one hand to knock.

But t
he door flew open before she even had the chance, and she was snatched inside by her forearm without any comprehension of what was happening. Crushed against him, her mouth claimed by his, all reservations fell away like rain and it was understood in that moment - he had no intention of waiting any longer.

The Rolling Stones
blared from the bedroom but there was no way she was going to make it that far. Her dress and panties fell in a pool around her ankles and were abandoned by the door as Ash lifted her urgently onto the most convenient surface which happened to be the solid oak dining table. He didn’t bother removing his pants, it was far too much trouble, and while
Paint It Black
throbbed in her ears his body was tempered steel within her and felt even better than she remembered if that was possible -
how is that possible?
- and his movements were frantic, primitive and oh
God,
the ecstasy…

The
fleeting ecstasy…

Before the song even
ended he collapsed over her on the table, shuddering, his ragged breath warm in her ear as he snarled, “It’s about damn time!”

Her eyes fluttered open and she gazed up at him, dazed. “Hm?”

“In the future I don’t expect to be kept waiting this long.”

“I just…
I went back to my room for a shower…”

“No excuses, Sam
ara. I’ve waited as patiently as possible all week and then you have the
audacity
to make me wait even longer, stringing me along with your bullheadedness - I won’t be as considerate with you next time.” He straightened, pulling her up by one hand while scowling at the white butterfly strips on her abdomen. “Your flesh takes too damn long to heal.”

What
!?
“It’s healing just fine - and I didn’t tell you to cut me up, did I!”

“
Huh. Well, I guess I have only myself to blame. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how fragile your kind can be. I’ll have to be more careful with you from now on.” He led her in the direction of the bedroom. “Maybe we can remedy that situation…if you can somehow manage to hold it together long enough.”

God
, how the man loved to talk in riddles. She might as well give up trying to solve his conundrums. And what was up with this music?
White Room
…yet another sixties song. It took her back to her high school days and a spacey drama teacher with the unfortunate name of Mercury Starbuck - he always used to have that stuff playing on a portable radio during class. “You really have a thing for the Woodstock generation,” she commented, sliding into bed between the cool satin sheets. The candles were burning again. They smelled faintly of hyacinth and orange blossoms.

“
Well then…let’s see if I can find something more to your liking.”

“I wasn’t complaining
. Just making an observation.” Sami stretched luxuriously underneath the covers. The air was chilly from the air conditioning.

“Any requests?” His voice came from across the room.

“No…but can you please turn it down some? It’s a little loud.”

He said something she couldn’t make out
but did adjust the volume, then came to the bedside to leisurely shed his clothes, dropping them to the floor in a careless heap. “I chose this one just for you.”

She was too busy watching him undress for his words to sink in.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t so much watching as it was ogling. Michelangelo himself couldn’t have sculpted anything more beautiful than this man. “Chose what?”

“The song.
It’s perfect for you.” He joined her in bed, lying on his left side to face her, his aquatic eyes fixed on her face. The song was a slow acoustic version of
Don’t Fear the Reaper.
It did happen to be one of her favorites, which in itself was an odd coincidence, but what in those abstract lyrics made him think of her?

“Why
do you say it’s perfect for me?”

“
Can’t you guess?” He stroked the curve of her bare hip lightly.

“
No. Is this your subtle way of telling me you’re the Grim Reaper?” It was a joke - sort of. There were times when nothing about this man would have seemed impossible.

“
What if I was?”

“Then I guess I should be afraid
, shouldn’t I?”

“Sweetheart…didn’t I teach you anything?
There’s no fear - not with me. Never with me.”

His words were so seductive, she could
have almost believed them if she didn’t already know better. “I would think you’re the one thing I should fear most of all.”

“
Oh yeah? Why is that?”

“You’re…unpredictable.”

“Is that so terrible?” He moved his head forward and brushed his lips against hers. “Just what is it about conformity that appeals to you? I’ve never understood that about people. If you had a choice between the two, wouldn’t you prefer excitement to monotony?”

“I
guess I must…I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“
And that is precisely my point. You see, we want the same things.” He covered her calf with one strong leg, pressing his erection firmly against her. “I want you…you want me…”

Oh, he was most assuredly right about that. She’d never
craved anyone or anything so desperately in her life. The erotic effect he had on her was undeniable.

“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you
, Sami. Why do you suppose that is?”

He wants me
more than anyone else…I’m not defective…I’m not undesirable so up yours, Rick…
“I don’t know,” she admitted. Which was the truth because why, when he could have his pick of any woman in the world, would he choose to be with her? There was nothing exactly riveting about her, not as far as she knew. She was nothing special. A strange sense of déjà vu washed over her. Hadn’t someone once told her that very thing? The memory lurked somewhere in her subconscious, but she couldn’t recall who it might have been. Maybe it was in a dream she once had.

“I think you’re just like me.
” He began to move his hips, grinding his body against hers in deliberately slow motions. “We’re two of a kind. Maybe I saw it from the start, but didn’t recognize it for what it was.”

“H
ow…how am I like you?” Her voice was husky with repressed passion. His languid movements were luring her perilously close to the edge.

“You want more than life has to give,” was the response whispered into her ear. “Death has so much more to offer, baby…so much more…”

“I have no idea what that even means.”

“You will, sweetheart.
Trust me, you will…” His tongue traveled along her neck, and she moaned as his fingers just barely grazed one of her breasts. “So beautiful. I love the way you taste, like ripe peaches…makes me want to bite you all over. I think you’d like that, too. Wouldn’t you?”

“
Yes…
” Right now she’d admit to anything, anything at all, as long as he kept touching her that way…

“
Has anyone else ever made you feel like this before?”

“No, never…”

“Would you like to know a key difference between me and other men?”

There must have been
an infinite number of them, but she didn’t want to think about other men right now. They didn’t matter…all that mattered was this one, this Greek god in her arms. She pressed her lips against his smooth chest. He tasted delicious, himself. “Mm…”

“
They all claim the ability to make love all night long…have you ever noticed that, Sami? The way men have of embellishing the facts while they’re in the throes of passion. Just saying what they think you want to hear. But the difference, you see, is that I can actually do it.” His fingers wound themselves through her hair, pulling gently and forcing her to look up at him. “I can make love to you for hours on end…over and over and over. All. Night. Long.”

There was only one thing to say to that. “Prove it.”

His laugh was throaty. “I thought you’d say that. I wonder how long you can hold out. Think you can keep up with me?” He crushed the firm length of himself against her, hard, teasing her unmercifully.

“Oh God, Ash…” She was practically whimpering like a starved puppy now.

“What is it, baby?”

“
Please…”

“Please what?”

“You
know
what I want…”

“No. Suppose you tell me.” Abruptly he rolled onto his back, resting his hands underneath his head while grinning at her maddeningly.
He was thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Ash…”

“Your avarice is showing.”

“What?”

“Look at you. Practically on your knees, begging to be my whore - just like I predicted you would be.” The sudden change in his tone stunned her into frozen silence. In the blink of an eye, he’d suddenly become the reverse side of a counterfeit coin. “What’s wrong, Samara? Does the truth hurt…or maybe you just don’t like the idea of being my personal concubine.” His eyes gleamed scathingly. “Your body says otherwise.”

“You…
what did you…” she sputtered, pulling herself up to glower at him furiously. How could he say such despicable things to her? What was wrong with him that he could be so callous and crude and unfeeling?

“I never lie,” he said softly, almost under his breath.

Those three quiet words were her undoing. Without thinking, without stopping to consider the ramifications of her runaway temper, she reacted. Before there was even time to realize what she was doing, both hands reached to hastily snatch up two pillar candles burning on the bedside table and they dumped the hot contents of each onto his perfect, flawless chest. The flames hissed as they went out, drowned by the thick wax that was now pooled on Asher, who did not protest but instead closed his eyes and threw his head back with a strangely ecstatic expression. His hands gripped the headboard behind him and he clenched his teeth while the heat ran down his sides.

“
Oh,
yeah
...that’s my girl…”

Horrified by her own actions,
Sami tossed the offending candles to the floor and stared at him in alarm. “
Shit
…oh shit, I didn’t mean to do that - I’m sorry! I…are you okay?”

“Come here, baby.” He gripped her waist and lifted her to
sit astride him. “You wanted proof…now you’re gonna get it.”