Chapter 30
Simon raged under his breath, his eyes never leaving the screen as Detective Robinson finished eating and returned to Genevieve’s office. What had they talked about? What information was she sharing with him? They had talked as though they were friends. In fact, she’d been more relaxed with this cop than she was with him.
But then Detective Robinson was not a man on the make, just the boyfriend of a friend. There was the barrier of him already being…taken… that had relieved the possibility of any sexual demands between them.
What had she told Robinson? There was precious little she knew about Simon’s life, because he was always careful to share only those things that would paint an advantageous picture for her. And she had not become a part of his true life…yet. But she was about to. Very soon.
He resigned himself to the fact that Mai was out of reach, at least for the moment. She was taken to a safe house that first night. He followed them there, but lost her when she’d been moved again, and there was no way to trace her. The officers who accompanied her that first night were back in town, and had obviously passed on their responsibilities to someone else.
Simon knew quite a few influential people in town. He’d fished for information under the guise of being a concerned citizen, but he didn’t really have a true reason for inquiring about Mai.
Had he allowed his need to finish her off put his freedom in jeopardy? When he returned from his abortive attempt to take care of Mai at the hospital, he found a long scratch on his arm. Had one of the nurses scratched him? Or had it happened when he was wrestling with the police officer?
He’d stepped up his timeline, and had just a few more things to take care of before he made his move. He’d emptied his accounts and transferred the money to an offshore account, and made arrangements to have his car driven to their destination—St. Petersburg, Florida—in the next day or so.
Genevieve would enjoy the sun and the beaches there. It was a town that embraced artistic talent, and had an abundant tourist trade. Not that her work was geared to tourists. Her work was meant for a bigger stage. He had helped her gain that recognition. She owed him, and it would soon be time for her to pay up. Whether she wanted to or not.
He closed the software when a tap came on the office door, and he called to Keith to come in.
“I’ve sold Genevieve’s other drawings. I thought you’d like to know.”
“All four of them?”
“Yes. The businessman who stopped in, he’d been up at the mines to check out the mushroom farm. He wanted all four as a set for his office.”
Eight thousand dollars in one day from four drawings. She was the golden goose. He’d have to treat her with care. “Excellent work, Keith. I’ll be sure to tell Genevieve. She’ll be very pleased.”
The man was grinning from ear to ear as he left.
Simon opened the security software again so he could watch while she answered the phone, and dialed Genevieve’s number. She rushed into the house from outside to answer. He frowned when she studied the number on the phone for two more rings before answering on the fifth ring.
“I thought you’d like to know, besides the drawings you sold to the Richards, Keith has just sold the other four.”
“That’s—” Her expression was blank with surprise. “That’s fantastic! Please thank him for me.”
“They went for a thousand a piece.” He almost felt guilty for skimming the money from her when they would soon be combining their funds once they got to Florida.
“I’m amazed. I would never have imagined my drawings would sell for that much money.”
“They were exquisite, although some of it was presentation. The frames and mats set them off to perfection.”
She leaned back against the kitchen island. “You and Keith both have a knack for that sort of thing. It’s through your efforts that I’ve done so well.”
“Thank you for saying so.”
“Well, it’s true.” She turned her head as a sound came from the front of the house.
“How is your friend Mai doing? Better, I hope.”
Genevieve stood motionless. “I haven’t spoken to her since the police took her into protective custody.” She looked up as a man came through the front door. “I have some workmen here, Simon. I think I need to go.”
“Okay. I’ll convey your gratitude to Keith.”
“Yes, please do that.”
He hung up and waited to see where she might be going. She disappeared outside once again, and he closed out the software.
“What are you up to, Genevieve?” he murmured. She was wasting her time and money working on that old house. But it would bring a good profit when they sold it.
They’d be living in a much more spacious place once they arrived in Florida, and she would have her studio downtown, in one of the empty warehouses. He’d already picked it out online. He had only to pay the deposit. Once she’d been conditioned to what he needed from her.
Clare hadn’t taken to his special needs, and continually tried to escape. But he had some new ideas about how to handle Genevieve. The warehouse would be the perfect place for it.
* * *
Finn shook his head as he woke, the grogginess of sleep lingering in a way that was strange to him. He realized he was lying on his side on the slab. Used to waking at dusk and the softer light of the setting sun, the glare seemed harsh as he gazed into the distance and threw up a hand to block the blaze of the low-hanging sun.
For the first time in six and a half centuries he looked upon more than its distant glow and the colors that painted the sky after its passing. He sat up on the stone block and recognized the discomfort of the rock beneath his bare buttocks.
“Finn?” Genevieve’s voice came from behind him, wispy and soft. He twisted to glance over his shoulder and missed the hulking weight of his wings.
“You have a cleft in your chin. I didn’t realize that.”
Finn touched his chin and felt the faint indention. He raised a hand to his face and stroked his cheek. Beard stubble prickled his fingertips. He hadn’t had a beard in centuries. He touched his brow and felt the difference. Why had he not felt any pain during this latest transition? He had slept his way through it.
“I’ll get a mirror.” Genevieve rushed inside the house and returned a few minutes later with a looking glass. She offered it to him.
Finn’s stomach tightened. Seeing his image as the gargoyle had destroyed all hope that night. Knowing he was a monster was hard, but facing the ugliness of it had sickened him. How could Genevieve not scream every time he came near?
He lifted the mirror and looked into it. Blinked, then looked again.
His jaw was shadowed by his beard, and his hair hung down the back of his neck and lay shaggy against his cheeks, but his face was exactly as he had so often dreamed it. And his teeth were no longer the monster’s, but human.
He set the mirror aside and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes to contain his tears.
Genevieve remained silent but rested her hand on his shoulder in comfort. When he finally dropped his hands, she held out a glass of water. He drank deeply, then paused to look at the glass container as he gripped it. No, claws…just square, human fingernails.
He froze for several seconds. It wasn’t possible. He swallowed as he turned his hand first one way then the other. “How did this happen, Genevieve?”
“Your voice… It’s less gruff, but still deep.”
“’Tis the same as it was before the curse.”
“The clay figure started changing today, taking on more and more of your gargoyle features. I didn’t notice it, but Chase, Juliet’s boyfriend did.” Her voice trailed away, and her eyes shimmered with tears, though a smile spread across her face.
He attempted to stand, but his limbs felt rubbery. He didn’t want to admit it, but he needed to stay seated until he was able to get to his feet. “The magic has left me, Genevieve. I find myself very weak.”
She sat down beside him. “It has been a part of you for so long, it has to have been traumatic for it to be torn away, and probably disorienting now it’s gone.”
“Aye.” He searched her face. Would she feel differently now that he was no longer the monster? Could she feel the same for the man as she did the gargoyle?
“You need something to eat.”
“Did you call Juliet and Miranda? Do they think this will last?”
“They don’t know. They’re hopeful, since the clay figure now looks like a gargoyle.”
He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “If all I have is an hour with ye, ’tis more than I thought I would ever have, lass.”
She raised a hand to cup his face and leaned closer to press her lips to his. It had been so long, but his lips parted, and he drank in the taste and feel of her mouth against his.
Her cheeks glowed with color and heat when they broke the kiss. He was pleased to see she was as out of breath as he. His body quickened with need, and his heart beat so he could barely catch his breath. They clung together for several long, intimate minutes.
“Do you want to come inside?” She asked, her tone husky. “I’ll cook a meal.”
As the monster he had felt smothered inside the auction house. Even standing inside Genevieve’s studio made him wary. Would that feeling plague him now he was human?
“Aye.”
She rose and gripped his arm while he struggled to his feet, waiting to make certain he was steady. Then she went to the cabinet and brought out a new pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.
“It seems there are parts of me that are stronger than others,” Finn teased as he sat on the concrete bench and put on the pants.
“I noticed,” Genevieve laughed. “I thought that part might be enhanced by magic as well, but it seems to have remained the same.
Finn laughed and shoved to his feet. He was feeling stronger now. But human. She was right, it was a trauma to have lost what had given him great strength and allowed him to fly.
She caught his hand and drew him toward the house. Finn tugged her to a halt. “The magic is weak, but it could still harm ye.” He tucked a stray strand of dark brown hair behind her ear, simply because he couldn’t keep his hands off her.
“I don’t think so, Finn. I’ve been around you for weeks now, and if it was going to infect me, I think it would already have done so.”
“I want to believe that, Genevieve. But I dinna wish to cause you the kind of torment I have known all these years.”
She smoothed his hair, and kneaded the back of his neck in a way that tested the limits of his resistance. “What if this is the only time we have, Finn? What if tomorrow you become the gargoyle again?”
He molded her close, and her green eyes darkened. God’s blood, but he wanted her to the point of pain. But the need to protect her outweighed everything else. He rested his forehead against hers.
Surely God, the devil, whatever force drove the magic, would not be so cruel. But he’d seen how cruel it was to live without the tenderness of a human touch, the whisper of a kiss, the warmth of an embrace. He could not return to that. But… He leaned back. “What if making love with me causes ye to become like me?”
Her expression of unwavering focus was the same when she was drawing. “Then neither of us will be alone. You can show me if making love was any different in the fourteenth century.”
“Lass, after centuries of celibacy, it may be a challenge for me to remember, but I’ll do m’ best.” If he got inside her, he would not last half a heartbeat, but perhaps the second time… Even thinking about it nearly brought him to the brink.
He forced his attention on the wide hall leading into the entrance to the front door, a solar of sorts (they called it a living room now), then the kitchen.
“Would you like to eat, Finn?”
“Later, lass. ’Tis not food I’m hungry for right now.” Now he was committed, he was impatient to get wherever she was taking him and spend hours touching her, kissing her, being inside her.
Her eyes were smoky green with passion as she led him down another hall, narrower this time, to a room with a large bed and heavy tables on either side.
“I’ve wanted to open my home to you before, Finn. But I didn’t think you’d feel comfortable inside.”
“Aye. I wouldna have. As the monster, I am wary of close spaces. Walls make me feel trapped.”
“But you feel comfortable, here with me now?”
“Aye. Very comfortable.”
She pulled her T-shirt up over her head and dropped it to the floor.
Finn studied the sheer, lacy bra supporting her breasts. Her pale skin peeked out from beneath the fabric, the lacy image of a rosebud lying against the slope of her breast. He ran a finger beneath the strap, then traced the rose pattern down over the center of the cup and felt her nipple bead beneath his touch. She unhooked the back of the bra and let it slide down her arms.
She was long-limbed, and long-bodied, and as lithe as he had imagined her, yet her breasts were surprisingly generous. He had not dared to touch them with the hands of the monster, but he proceeded to make up for the lost opportunities and cupped her breasts while his mouth covered Genevieve’s in a kiss as furiously passionate as the fire consuming him.
Her flesh was softer and smoother than anything he’d ever felt. He sat down on the bed and pulled her between his legs, resting his head against her breasts and nestling his face against them. “I have dreamt of yer scent. Dreamt of what yer skin would feel like. What ye would taste like.” He pressed a kiss to one peak, then drew it into his mouth and sucked.
Genevieve ran her fingers through his hair and pressed closer. Finn gripped her hips and kneaded her buttocks while he turned his attention to the other nipple.
He reached for the button on her jeans and unfastened it. She unzipped them helped him peel them down and off. He fell back against the covers and dragged himself up into the center of the bed. Genevieve followed him and straddled his hips.
“We’ll go as slow as you want next time, but I’ve wanted you as much as you have wanted me, Finn.” Her kiss was frantic, clumsy, and endearing, and tasted of iced tea and her.
Finn dragged the stretchy fabric of his sweatpants down, freeing himself. Painfully engorged, his control nearly slipped when her fingers closed around him and guided him inside her. The pleasure of being buried deep within her, of her body gripping his cock, was almost more than he could bear. He pushed deeper, intensifying the contact.
When she began to ride him, he closed his eyes against the sight of Genevieve’s breasts rising and falling, the added encouragement too much for his sex-starved body. She rocked, sliding him all the way home again and again. She was so tight, wet, and warm. He found her small, sensitive nub with his fingers, and when he stroked it, she lost her rhythm and her breathing became as loud and ragged as his.
A sensation of pleasure more intense than anything he had known in centuries tightened his balls, swelled his cock, and made him groan aloud while he spilled his seed.
When he opened his eyes, it was to the sight of her smiling down at him. He urged her down to share a long, slow, thorough kiss. “I’ve wanted to be inside you since you scrubbed m’willy with a brush, the second day after I arrived in America.”
Genevieve laughed aloud and hid her face against his chest. “It was covered with pigeon droppings and algae.”
“Aye. But the man inside the statue rather liked the way you held on now and then.”
She laughed again, but still didn’t show her face. She slid away to lie beside him.
They had not laughed enough together. He would see that they did from now on.
Remembering what he could about indoor plumbing, he slipped out of the bed, hiked the sweatpants back up and went into the bathroom. The place seemed all glass and mirrors. He relieved himself in the toilet. The silver handle would only go one way, so he pushed it down. It was a wonder to see the water swirl until it disappeared.
He studied his image in the mirror while he washed his hands. He looked as he had before the turn. Cleaner, but the same.
There were uncountable things he would have to learn to survive in this world…if he remained human.
He stood in the doorway of the bedroom and gazed at Genevieve, her long, slender body stretched upon the bed, completely nude and open to his perusal. The stirrings of desire ignited all over again.
Her hair tumbled about her face and across her pillow. Turned on her side, the curve of her hip was a thing of beauty, as was the rest of her. If he became the gargoyle again come daybreak, he would not forget a single moment of this night. With that thought, he shucked the sweatpants and climbed back into bed with her.