Possess Me (21 page)

“Flirted with . . . ? No, I don’t see him. He saved us, Ben. I just can’t believe it.”

“I think there’s more to our randy Loa friend than meets the eye.”

Ben told her about his unusual visitor, how the old black man had mentioned Bone Daddy, and the treasure.

“Isabel’s treasure? Really? Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”

Ben raised his eyebrow sardonically. “Let’s recap, shall we? You and your brother were just possessed by dueling spirits, one of them responsible for helping to get our two friends together. I can touch people and sense what they’re feeling, and you can see ghosties and supernatural spirits. And you’re asking me if that was just a dream?”

She made a face at him. “You have a point. But what does it mean? Emmanuel said he and his sister were the only ones who knew about it. Who was that old man?”

“I don’t know, Mimi. But I think, since he did warn me you were in danger, we should start looking for that secret panel right away.”

She smiled at his earnest expression, even more endearing with the marks on his face. Marks he’d suffered to protect her. “Right away? Couldn’t it wait a few more hours?”

He did a double take, trying hard not to grin too widely. “What will we do to pass the time?”

She dropped the covers and pulled off the old T-shirt her mother had, no doubt, dressed her in when she’d gotten her to bed. “I can think of a few things.”

Ben stood up and unbuckled his pants, walked over to slip the little metal latch on the door and locked it. “I wonder if your mama knows what a bad girl she raised.”

She slipped off her panties and tossed them at his feet. “The longer you talk, the closer that bread pudding is to being ready.”

He stripped at lightning speed, making Michelle inhale sharply yet again.

“Oh, Ben.”

His beautiful torso was peppered with bruises. “I think my mother has a poultice or something. Maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Oh no, you don’t.” Ben ripped the mosaic-patterned coverlet off the bed and pinned her to the mattress. “You can’t promise me heaven then back away. I don’t care if you
do
have a black belt.”

He kissed her gently, carefully, and Michelle’s giggling became moans. She’d been so afraid for him. So afraid she wouldn’t make it out of her encounter with the rogue
djab
alive. And now she was here, in his arms.

He pulled his mouth away with a disappointed moan. “I don’t have anything. Protection.”

“Then we’ll just have to be creative.” She wiggled against his hips, feeling his erection press against her.

He kissed her again, his mouth caressing her temple, her chin, the base of her neck. When he reached her breasts, she arched into his mouth. Loving the sensation. Loving him.

He lifted his lips. “Say it out loud, Mimi. Please, baby. Don’t torture me.”

“I love you, Ben.”

“Mo laime toi,
Mimi.”
I love you
.
I’ve always loved you.

He pressed passionate kisses against her belly, careful of the bandage still covering one side. He nibbled on her thighs, lowering himself between her legs, the lower half of his body hanging off her childhood bed.

Michelle started to chuckle, covering her mouth with her hand. He looked up and narrowed his gaze. “It’s not nice to laugh at a man when he’s trying to seduce you.”

“I was just thinking.”

“Also not a good thing to tell the man who’s supposed to be your distraction.”

Michelle smiled softly. “You’re so much more than that. And you know it, Adair.”

“What were you thinking?” He pressed his mouth over her piercing, tongue slipping out to circle the tiny silver bar.

“
Ah
. Oh. Yes, well. I was just thinking . . . this is the first time we’ve actually, um, done anything in a bed.”

“I don’t really consider this a bed. I’ll show you a real bed as soon as I get you back home.”

She lifted her hips as his fingers sought out her heat. “After we look for the treasure, you mean.”

“I have all the treasure I want, right here.”

“THAT’S RIGHT. SHE WANTS YOU. SEE THE WAY SHE SIFTS
her hair through her fingers, lifting it away from the kissable nape of her neck? How she’s leaning closer, so close you can smell the sun on her skin? Her heat? She doesn’t care about securities and paperwork. She wants you to stand up and take her in your arms. She is ripe and ready for a good, hard fu—”

“Thank you, Ms. Dane,” the man interrupted abruptly as he glanced at his watch. “This was a very productive lunch. But I have a three o’clock so . . .”

Bone Daddy grunted in frustration. “Bah! Did you hear nothing I said?”

“Of course, Mr. Bonneville. I’ll have the report in your inbox by morning.”

The man stood and turned away from his coworker, already on his portable phone before he’d even left the outdoor caf��.

Bone Daddy sighed as the man in the suit and tie walked right through him. Of course he couldn’t hear him, couldn’t see him; the poor bastard didn’t even know when a delicious woman was offering herself like a five-course meal at his feet.

He watched the blonde’s shoulders fall on a disappointed sigh and leaned closer to her. She couldn’t see him either, but maybe she could feel him. He blew against her temple, focusing all his energy on ruffling the tendrils that had curled in the damp heat of the day. “You deserve better,
cher
. If I were in his body, any body at all, I would prove to you just how desirable you truly are.”

She shivered, looking around suspiciously. Grumbling to herself about stupid men and vibrators, she grabbed up her briefcase, left a tip on the table, and rushed off in the direction of the blockheaded male she wanted, leaving Bone Daddy behind.

That had been happening a lot lately.

First Rousseau had found the perfect match with Allegra, sending Bone Daddy packing after years of pleasure, and then Ben had swept Michelle away to his crumbly old mansion.

Bone Daddy hated that house. He wasn’t sure why. He would almost swear some sorcerer had cursed the ground beneath it, to keep good spirits away. Otherwise, wouldn’t he have been pinned to the side of Michelle Toussaint these last few weeks? Not only did she have a sweet ass and a penchant for exhibitionism, she was also the only woman who could see him in his noncorporeal form.

Seven years. Seven years he’d been on this side of the Gate, reveling in the instant gratification, the passion of humanity. He loved mortals. Everything about them. Their resilience, their decadence, the sensations and heights they were capable of achieving.

He was surprised he’d been allowed to stay so long this time, even though the open-ended deal Rousseau’s father had made for his own selfish reasons was something Bone Daddy had no problem taking advantage of. Perhaps he’d been left alone because in his world, time had no meaning. What
was
and what
is
occasionally got jumbled about.

It sounded more interesting than it was, in his opinion. The tapestry of that life seemed to pale in comparison to the rich textures and brilliant colors of New Orleans. He wanted to stay.

In that desire lay a twisted path, as his old mentor often told him—as the keeper of the crossroads, he should know. Bone Daddy himself understood that staying too long as a shadow in the human realm, without a purpose or a body, would turn you into something dark and perverse. Something like the
djab
, the rogue spirit who’d gone after Michelle. He never wanted that. He loved pleasing people; he didn’t want to cause pain.

So he’d made a bargain with the higher echelon of Loa. In exchange for getting him to Michelle on time, to save her from her possessed brother, Bone Daddy would have to leave the human realm. He would be allowed to remain in New Orleans until All Saints’ Day.

It would be the first time he was able to be in physical form without possessing a human. His last chance to “get his desires out of his system,” or so his mentor put it. As if that could happen. Afterward he would pass through the Gate of Guinee—the gate to the other side. There he would have to remain regardless of the pleas of the needy voodoo practitioners. It was a difficult term to accept. What was he if not the Love Doctor of the Big Easy? Merely a specter, a wraith.

Unseen and unsatisfied.

But he had All Saints’ Day. The day the Ghede family, and a few of the other Loa, could walk the earth in human form. Their own human form. How long before his unique agreement with the Rousseau males had he longed to be allowed to roam free that one special day? As long as he could remember. But his name never came up. Until now.

He’d take it, even as a consolation prize. What Loa wouldn’t walk through fire for the chance to be in a body all his or her own? No struggles with a mortal’s soul, being able to
feel
everything. No thoughts in his head but his own. Paradise from the first rays of one dawn until the next.

Bone Daddy unchained.

He smiled as he watched the bustling crowd. The locals would be preparing soon. It was nothing like the grand spectacles of the past. The whole city was a bit more somber of late. But it was still All Saints’, the Day of the Dead. Cultures and beliefs united to celebrate and remember those who had come before, those who had moved on. Mambo Toussaint was sure to have a grand gathering. Wouldn’t she be surprised to see her favorite Loa join in the festivities as a human male? He grinned, impatient for the time to pass.

He could suffer a few more days of hunger. Soon enough he would feast.

 

 

 

“I’M SO GLAD YOU DECIDED TO COME, BETHANY.” MICHELLE
wove in and out of the late-afternoon New Orleans traffic like a member of the Andretti family. “You were the first person I thought of when we found Isabel’s treasure. And I admit, it’s a great excuse to get you down here. I didn’t think you’d ever leave New York City to come to visit me.”

Bethany clutched her seat belt, smiling weakly at her animated friend. She’d never thought she would leave the safety of her East Coast apartment either. But Michelle had targeted her Achilles’ heel—history. In particular, the history of Spanish colonization in the Americas. With Michelle’s recent find dangling like a carrot, Bethany had taken a few anti-anxiety meds and something for motion sickness, hopped on a plane, and here she was. Groggy, but here. New Orleans. A city with enough history to keep her in geek heaven for years.

She’d always meant to come here, had read everything she could get her hands on about the Crescent City. The parades and bead-throwing she could do without, but the mystery, the magical allure of New Orleans, still called to her. Unfortunately planes made her panicky and airsick, and trains were too crowded and, well . . . made her panicky.

Bethany sighed. She was a bit of an isolationist. But Michelle had always refused to accept that fact. From the moment she’d moved into the New York apartment across the hall from Bethany all those years ago, the beautiful social butterfly had been determined to make friends.

It was an unlikely relationship. Bethany worked from home as a textbook editor, surrounded by her books and her research. The convenience of living in the City That Never Sleeps meant everything she needed was brought to her door, so much so that she was a veritable recluse. Michelle, on the other hand, had loved the glamour of the Big Apple, working in one of the most prestigious art galleries in the city. Men had come to her door with flowers every weekend, and if there was a place to be in town, Bethany could be sure Michelle had been there.

She was ashamed to say she’d rebuffed her energetic neighbor once or twice, and it wasn’t until she’d come up to find Michelle admiring her rooftop garden that they’d had their first real conversation. When her exotic neighbor had admitted where she was from, Beth had been fascinated.

Thankfully, Michelle had always been patient with her, trying to answer all her questions, though it was obvious she’d been uncomfortable talking about her past. It was Bethany who had picked her up from the hospital after the mugging, who’d made sure she iced her eye and took her medicine. But she could tell it had shaken Michelle, more than she was willing to admit.

When she’d gone home to Louisiana, Beth had missed her terribly. Their phone calls and monthly video chats were the only thing that kept her sane. She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to depend on Michelle’s friendship until it was gone. And now, four years later, she was here.

She gave Michelle a teasing look. “So, Benjamin Adair, childhood nemesis, is more than your latest distraction, I take it?”

When Michelle blushed, Beth did a comedic double take. “As I live and breathe,” she drawled in a fake Southern accent, “I do declare I have never seen Michelle Toussaint blush over a
man
.”

Bethany batted her eyelashes and Michelle burst out laughing. “You in N’awlins now, chile,” she sassed back, exaggerating her own natural twang. “Don’t go pokin’ fun at how we talk.”