Making Love To Death (One Night With Death) (8 page)

“
I love lawyers,” Damien gave her a smile
that was devastating. No wonder he had so many beautiful women
lining up to wrap themselves around his little finger and every other
part of his body. Emma found her eyes trailing down the open collar
of his lime-green hospital pajamas, down his broad shoulders and
chest, and lower...

Damien shifted his body beneath the sheets and Emma
jerked her eyes up, hoping that he hadn't followed the route her eyes
had taken. She swallowed thickly.

“
Oh? You must have quite a few favorite female
lawyers that you can call upon at short notice. So why did you call
my office?” Emma folded her arms, cutting to the chase. She
frowned and bit her lip, hating the catty, jealous tone of her voice.
What was wrong with her? She had no reason, no goddamn reason at
all to feel even the slightest twinge of jealousy. She hardly knew
the man.

Damien cocked his head, seemingly giving serious thought
to her words. Either that or he was mocking her.

Emma decided on the latter and crossed her legs with a
huff, tightening herself up into a knot. She should have gone
straight home to be with her son, instead of battling peak hour
traffic to drive all the way out here just to meet this obnoxious
jerk.

“
I had to,” Damien replied at last. “Your
name...” he frowned deeply. “When I opened my eyes, your
name was the only name I could recall. I kept calling your name, and
I kept insisting that I speak to you, and see you. The doctors asked
my assistant and staff if I knew an Emma Davis, but they said I
didn't. But I wouldn't rest. My staff made countless calls until
they found you.”

“
Why were you looking for me?”

“
I just...I had to see you.”

Emma tried to reply but no words came. She saw a
sudden, fierce longing in Damien's eyes and she completely forgot to
breathe.

“
There must be...some mistake,” she
stammered. “You don't know me.”

“
Don't I?”

“
We haven't met...” she faltered.

“
Haven't we?”

“
I don't think...I don't know...”

“
But I do, Emma,” Damien said fervently.
“It's the only thing I do know since I woke up. Everything
else...happened to a different person. You—you're the only
thing that is real, to me.”

“
What do you mean?” she asked hoarsely.
But she knew what he meant. She just didn't want to admit it. It
was as if she knew him from somewhere, some time. Yet she was sure
that she had never crossed paths with Damien Blake.

His throat moved but he didn't reply. Instead he shook
his head and raked his hand through his hair. “I guess the
drugs really did mess with my head. Things are not making sense.
I
am not making sense. And every time I close my eyes, I see those
endless fires, eviscerating, gutting and devouring...”

Emma saw that he was trembling. “What fires?
What fires, Damien?” There was no mention of any fires in the
news reports. Was there arson involved? Was he trying to tell her
about a crime that he or his associates had committed? Was this an
expression of guilt and fear?

Damien squeezed his eyes shut and slumped back on his
pillows. Perspiration was beading on his forehead. “Damien,
are you all right?” Emma jumped up. “I'll get the
doctor...”

“
No!” His hand gripped her wrist.
“Please...don't go...”

“
But you're...”

“
I'm all right. It's okay. Just...stay with me.
Just for a while more, Emma.”

Emma sat down slowly. His grip loosened and she
withdrew her hand. What was he talking about? Was he hallucinating
and imagining some fiery hell, or was he remembering a crime?

Whatever it was, one thing was clear. Damien Blake was
a tortured soul. And—there was something else about him.
Something that whispered to her soul and pulled her inexorably to
him. She should not be feeling anything for him, except perhaps
pity. But pity was definitely not what she felt towards him.

Fire, flames—there was something burning in this
man. Something dark and dangerous.

Once he had calmed down and Emma was sure that the man
was all right, she told him to rest and to call her office when he
was better. Shakily, Emma handed him her business card, avoiding
even the slightest contact with his fingers. Forcing a smile to her
face, she wished him luck and a speedy recovery and fumbled out of
the room.

As she walked rapidly to the car park, her heart thudded
in her ears and her fists were cold and clammy.

She would be wise to walk away from this man, but
instead she could feel herself being drawn to him. “...like a
moth to a flame,” she whispered as she started the engine and
gripped the steering wheel.

Whipping out her phone, she typed a message to her
secretary:
Can you get me
copies of every
available
news report and article about Mr. Damien Blake? Thanks!

There was something about Damien, something that
didn't quite jell with all the reports she had read about him. Emma
blew out a shuddering breath and resolved not to think about him.
She had quite enough on her hands and her mind. Throwing her car
into gear, she sped out of the hospital car park and headed straight
home.

“
Mummy, wake up! It's Saturday! You promised to
take me to the amusement park!”

Emma cracked open her eyes to see Luc bouncing excitedly
on her bed. She turned to the clock on her bedside table. “What?
It's not even eight o'clock,” she groaned.

“
The sun's up. Time to get up!” he
hollered, pulling the covers off. “Please...I'll make you
breakfast,” Luc offered.

“
And what will you be making?” She pushed
herself up on one elbow.

“
Cereal. And milk. And sugar,” he answered
immediately. “The breakfast for heroes!”

“
That sounds great,” Emma smiled and ruffled
his soft blond hair. “All right, you get the bowls out and
I'll join you in a minute.”

Emma staggered to the bathroom and splashed cold water
on her face. She'd had the strangest dream. She had dreamt of
Death, but he wasn't the Death she knew. He wasn't the blond,
blue-eyed, tanned, muscular Death who came to her and made love to
her and branded himself into her soul. He looked like...someone
else, someone she had just met. She shook her head. No, it couldn't
be. It was just her feverish imagination playing tricks on her.
After meeting Damien Blake last night, her fraught brain had churned
up all manner of fantastical, erotic images. As she tossed and
turned in her bed, she kept seeing Death—but with Damien's
face, and naked body. She could see his toned shoulders and arms,
the muscles on his chest and stomach, his narrow waist and hips,
long, lean legs and a very aroused cock. Every hard line and angle
flashed clearly before her eyes, and she could see his brown eyes
darkening with desire as he gazed back at her. The blue ring around
his irises glowed as he came closer and closer to her. She could
almost touch him. She thought she could feel him caressing her face,
the curve of her neck and waist through her silky nightie. He seemed
to know her body well, intimately, like he had explored every inch of
her before. Emma's pulse and breathing had quickened as the image of
Damien Blake loomed large and clear behind her closed eyelids. She
drank in the sight of his perfect body, and felt the painful ache of
desire in her core. She wanted him, wanted this dark, handsome
stranger. But was he really a stranger? Why did his touch feel so
familiar?

Her sleep had become deeper but even more fitful as her
dreams grew more vivid throughout the night. In her dreams, she saw
herself writhing beneath a man. They were having sex on a large bed
covered with satin, crimson sheets. The man's head was bent over her
breast as he suckled her so he couldn't see his face. Just as he was
about to lift his face to her, a black hood descended and obscured
his features. He was suddenly dressed in the black cloak of Death.

But he wasn't Death.

He had salt-and-pepper hair, fair skin and his body
wasn't as hard and long. The black cloak flowed around him as he
stepped away from her. Flames began to dance behind him, and in the
middle of those flicking tongues of fire, she thought she saw a man
burning. He was standing up tall and straight as the fires consumed
him alive. When the man turned his face to her, Emma screamed.

She had awoken to the sound of her own screams just
before the first light of dawn. She was drenched in cold sweat and
she had to blink back the tears from her eyes. No, it couldn't be.
That was just a dream, a nightmare. Even if it had felt so horribly
real. So real she could smell his blood and burning flesh.

It had taken her a long while to finally fall asleep
again, and thankfully this time her sleep was dreamless. And then
Luc had come bouncing into her room and onto her bed.

Clumsily, Emma changed into a T-shirt and jeans, and
pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She stared at the dark shadows
under her eyes and splashed more icy water over her face. Wake up
and snap out of it. It was just a bad dream. Even Luc knew that
nightmares weren't real.

“
Mummy!”

“
Coming, honey!” she called out as
cheerfully as she could.

She huffed out a breath. It was all Damien Blake's
fault. He had rattled her to such a degree that her nerves were all
frazzled and her thoughts thoroughly scrambled. She should avoid him
at all cost.

The doorbell jangled.

“
I'll get it!” she shouted, bolting from her
bedroom. “What did I tell you? Don't open the door to
strangers,” she reminded Luc sternly, who had raced out of the
kitchen and was reaching for the door knob.

She opened the door and gasped. Speak of the devil.

“
Damien! Wh-what are you doing here?”

He grinned. He was in black jeans and a long sleeved
shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow. “I got an early
discharge.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him. “No you didn't.”

He shrugged. “Well, money talks, money walks.”
His eyes lighted on Luc and he became completely still. Lowering
himself on one knee, he reached out and touched Luc's cheek lightly.

“
Hi,” Luc said shyly, and scooted behind
Emma's leg.

“
Hi,” Damien answered softly.

“
This is my son, Luc.” Emma stared at
Damien as he stood up to face her. There was an expression of awe
and wonder on his face as he met her eyes. Emma regarded him
curiously. Why was he staring at Luc so intently? Did he dislike
kids?

To her shock, he suddenly pulled her into a fierce hug.

“
What are you...?” she sputtered.

He held her tightly for a moment and released her. She
staggered back, trying to catch her breath.

“
I'm sorry,” Damien said, blinking at her.
“I don't know what came over me. I...I've never behaved like
this before.”

Luc giggled. “If you don't behave yourself, Mummy
will spank you!”

A mischievous glint flashed in Damien's eye as he bit
back a retort.

“
Come in,” Emma said quickly. “We're
just about to have breakfast. Would you like some coffee?”

“
I'll like that very much. Thank you.”

Damien stepped into her second floor walk-up apartment
and looked around. Luc's toys littered the living room floor, and
her files and laptop were on the coffee table.

“
It's a little messy...” Emma began, as she
led the way to the kitchen.

“
No, no, it's perfect,” he breathed.
“It's...home.”

Emma arched an eyebrow. This was Damien Blake, tech
billionaire with countless luxurious properties and yachts to his
name, and he was staring around her humble abode with a look of utter
and pure amazement and appreciation. He followed her into the
kitchen and smiled at the sight of a box of cereal and two plastic
bowls carefully laid out on the dining table. Luc clambered up on a
chair and began to pour cereal into the bowls, spilling most of it
onto the table. “I'm making breakfast,” he announced
proudly. “Want some?”

“
Yes, please.”

“
Okay.” Luc jumped off the chair and
grabbed another plastic bowl from the cupboard. “You can have
my green bowl. It glows in the dark.”

“
I am honored,” Damien said seriously.

Luc opened the fridge and hauled a carton of milk up
onto the table.

“
I'll get that, buddy,” Damien said, taking
the carton from Luc. Once Damien poured the milk into the bowls, Luc
dug into his cereal with gusto. “Eat quickly,” he urged
with his mouth full. “We're going to the amusement park.”

Emma brought two steaming cups of coffee over and sat
down opposite Damien. She eyed him as he chatted and joked with Luc.
When he looked up at her, she asked tersely, “Why are you
here? How did you know where I live?”