Hells Angel Page 8

  She pulled up in the cracked driveway and stepped out of the car. The gardens were overgrown with weeds, and the once bright yellow-painted house now just seemed stale and pathetic. She walked around to the back, trying the worn keys until the door pushed free. The salesman lived a miserable existence. No wife or kids, it seemed, and the house almost as empty as hers. But at least he had a flat screen TV - well, not for long anyway. She made her way through the kitchen and bedrooms, flicking open draws as she went, looking for anything that she could hock.

  Various photos of the salesman's family decorated the shelves and, as she looked from one photo to the next, she could almost draw a time line with the expressions alone.

  At one end, the photos showed the salesman and his wife seated with a boy and girl, their eyes shining with wide, white teeth prominent. In the next photo, the smiles weren't as genuine and the spaces between them a little wider. She moved along the photos until the salesman wasn't in the photos at all. The haunted eyes of the children were the closest to the bed, facing inward so that it was the last thing he saw. His torture was different than she was used to, but the remaining hurt was all the same. And all of a sudden, she no longer wanted a flat screen TV.

  She turned and walked from the room and back into the kitchen. Throwing the keys onto the bench, she walked back outside and grabbed the Detective's file and the items from the car, and walked away.

  What was happening to her? This wasn't her. She didn't feel ... right. Her heart raced as she made for the address in Hunter's file. Going to the salesman's home had been a mistake ... a costly mistake, and she felt shaken as she reached Hunter's address.

  She stood outside, hidden in the bushes as the sun dipped in the sky. The sky cast out the stars before her, the expanse seeming endless. But the sky was not why she came here tonight.

  He was.

  She watched him as he moved around behind the drawn blinds.

  He was dangerous to her, more so now than he was this morning. He was getting out of hand. The tracker was the last straw, and she needed to put an end to it. She needed to put an end to him.

  He invaded her thoughts and her life until the lines between what she would and wouldn't accept blurred.

  Her heart thudded inside her chest. Each beat was a blow that threatened to crack her resolve as she watched him in the shadows. The sense that he was more than he seemed swelled inside of her, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake it. There was something that nagged her about him, some fleeting memory that she tried to reach out and capture. It was always gone before it had a chance to harden inside her mind and she was left again, with the cold, empty sound of her missing soul.

  Darrion Hunter moved around in what looked like the kitchen. He was real and here he was, doing things that were so normal it should have disgusted her. As she waited for her stomach to stop it's churning, she realized he wasn't alone.

  Boom! Her heart slammed inside of her as she watched them.

  Boom ... Boom.

  The slender figure of a woman moved up behind him, and for a moment they blended into one as he lowered his head to her.

  Boom ... Boom ... BOOM!

  She squeezed her eyes together, willing her heart to stop its assault on her. She could feel their heat from inside the house as their bodies blended into one. "Stop," she heard herself say, and shook it off as the heat from their desire settled between her legs and in her heart.

  No. She didn't want this, this ... tightness inside of her. It strangled her from the inside. She was tired of these thoughts, these feelings, like the one that floated to the surface inside of her. It was almost like ... jealousy?

  That couldn't be it. That was something that she hadn't felt in such a long time. What she wanted, she took. It was as simple as that.

  Did that mean she wanted Detective Hunter?

  No. Not him, anyone else but him.

  She scrambled around inside of herself, hunting for another reason for this emotion. She wanted to be cruel, to choke the life from this desire.

  But as much as she wanted to find that feeling inside of her and destroy it, she was afraid of it more.

  It seemed ironic that she was the only immortal who walked among these humans, able to withstand a bullet, a car crash, and anything else this world threw at her, but feelings - oh fuck. Now, that was a different matter altogether. With this shit coursing through her mind and veins, she was as helpless as a baby.

  Just like now, unable to tear her gaze away from them ... from him.

  She played with the tiny metal button in her pocket. Tit for tat would wait for another day. Seeing as though he had been in her house, it only seemed fair that she make herself available to go through his, but now it would have to wait for tomorrow. She would still leave her present, the tiny round device she found stuck on the underside of her collar. She wanted him to know that he wasn't the only hunter that could play this cat-and-mouse game. She wanted him to know that she was on to him.

  She watched for what seemed like hours while they moved from one room into the next, the light not as bright, but it illuminated well enough for the blaze of her eyes to track their every move. His dark outline bent down to the woman, the movement of his hands working against her body. It was almost painful to watch this, and this pain was not enjoyable at all. The shadow of his head moved to her face, then along her neck, to dip between the swell of her breasts, while the pain inside her took hold.

  Her hand pushed into her chest, searching the flesh of her body to find the source of the pain before cupping the upward sweep of her left breast. Please Father, no, she whispered, still seeing them even though her eyes were closed.

  She could imagine what was happening inside that room, the closeness, the heat. She gripped her breast, squeezing it as though she could channel it and feel it herself, and opened her eyes. The light was extinguished. Dark, but hot - oh God, she was on fire.

  The moan was ripped from her chest like a tortured animal, and any other time she would have enjoyed it. But, not this time, no. The sound of their pleasure and the soft creak of the bed springs caused her to grab her hair and sink to the ground. She wanted more of him, and no more all at the same time. That was okay, she could deal with that ... she could learn to deal with that.

  But she sure as fuck did not want someone else to have him.

  A solid stone lay to her right and she reached out and picked it up, spitting out the well chewed gum from her mouth, the imprint of her teeth still visible as she pushed the tracker into it and stuck it to the side of the rock.

  She heard the woman moan, the soft sound of pleasure bringing a guttural growl from her as she hurled the rock for the window.

  The sound cracked through the night, followed by a cry from Hunter. This time in the way she wanted. Furious, he swore and she heard his feet hit the floor as she took off. He would know who it was in the morning, once he found the tracker, and then it would be back to just him and her.

  Chapter 12

  For the first time in what felt like ages, the ghosts of his past didn't occupy his thoughts, only the woman who stood before him. Stephanie had turned out to be a nice woman. Easy to talk to and pleasant to be around, everything that he could want in a woman. But as she laughed and talked while drying the dishes, oblivious to his stalled side in their conversation, he realized that he didn't want her.

  He was forever damaged and broken from the trauma of his life and forever forced into loneliness, chasing the scum of society until he was old and useless. The sound of Stephanie's sweet chattering was the background track for this prophetic glimpse of his future. He could see himself old and hopeless, no longer bound to this Earth by case files and Persons of Interest, still living in the same house he occupied now. This would be his life ... alone, half of a man. The only thing stopping him from blowing out the back of his head was the chance that he may never see his wife and child again in heaven.

  "Hey, are you listening to me?"

 
; He tore his eyes away from his olive green lounge that haunted him from his future and the here and now, his smile apologetic. "Sure."

  "Thinking about the case, huh?" she said, placing the towel down over the rest of the dishes. "Did I happen to tell you that I find police officers sexy as hell?"

  Yes ... yes she did a number of times now. Snap out of it, he growled at himself. Did it matter that she was one of those women? Ones that preferred the company of men who carried a badge and a gun. At least she was here. She was real and wanted to be with him. Not some ghost or criminal.

  She moved against him, pressing her body into his, and he instinctively jumped and moved backwards. There was nowhere to go, the sink stopping his backwards motion. He tried not to think about the feel of her breasts against his chest, or the fact that even after ten years his body reacted as his blood fell away from his brain and rushed to his groin. Was it as easy as that? Just a mechanical and impulsive process that requires no emotion?

  Hunter's head lowered to hers, not by his own will, but by the pressure of Stephanie's hand on the back of his neck. She tasted of wine and strawberries, so delicate and sweet. She moaned under the movement of his lips, pressing harder against him so that he could feel every contour of her body, from her flat stomach, to her jutting hips and the hard mound of her sex. So long ... it had been so long since he had felt a woman like this, and even though he drank no wine tonight, he felt drunk all the same.

  He opened his eyes, staring not into her closed eyes, but at that olive green lounge. He hated that lounge, had always hated that lounge, and as the anger built inside of him, he reached up and grabbed a handful of Stephanie's hair, forcing her mouth harder into his until their teeth gnashed and he tasted blood. She pulled away, shock and horror on her face, and that was okay. He was like a caged animal that sat quiet in the corner. The surface calm and controlled, while underneath his river raged a torrent of hell.

  Her chest heaved with her breath, and a drop of blood glistened on her lip. Her lip was already beginning to swell and he felt bad about that. But, she would leave now, and he would go back to being alone and angry, just how it was meant to be.

  "Do that again," she croaked as the shock in her eyes turned into something else, something hungry.

  So he did.

  Allowing his emotions to run away for tonight would be all he would have. He knew he would never allow himself to see Stephanie again.

  "Bedroom," she panted in his ear, and he led her there, switching on the light as he went. She shed her clothes quickly, standing before him in a black lacy bra and panties. The realization of what he was about to do tried to force its way into his thoughts, but he pushed it away as he reached behind him, pulling his shirt over his head in one fluid motion.

  He wasn't in the best shape, a little soft around the edges, but she didn't seem to mind. She didn't even seem to notice as she stepped forward, spreading her hand out against his chest, pushing her fingers through the small patch of hair that lay in the middle. Her eyes glowed under the dim light with a need he hadn't seen in a long time. It was a physical need, a craving of flesh and of release, and he took her lead, reaching out to her. She felt so soft ... so, unbelievably soft as he traced the line of her bra over the swell of her breast. He was entranced as she stepped forward, forcing his hand to cup her, feeling her nipple harden under his palm.

  "Take it off me," she whispered, looking up at him. He reached around her body, filling his lungs with the flowery scent of her golden hair as he fumbled like a goddamn schoolboy. The clasp finally snapped free and her breasts fell out from behind the dark lace material. In the soft glow of the light, her skin shimmered milky white, her nipple pink, silky and smooth. She moaned drawing his attention to the pleasure on her face ... pleasure he was giving her.

  He lowered his head to her skin, trailing his lips along her collarbone to the dip in the middle of her chest and lower. She let him take his time, sliding her hands against the hard muscles of his shoulders until she entwined them in his hair. His mouth was filled with her, forcing her flesh into his mouth and between his teeth. He reached for the button of his pants, needing to release his erection, and pushed them to the ground. They feel in a heap around his feet and he stepped out of them, lifting Stephanie against him and carrying her towards the bed.

  His erection pushed between her thighs and she opened her legs wider for him to rub against her crease, the only thing stopping their joining was the thinnest slip of material. The springs of the bed groaned under their weight, dipping harder on one side. He felt ashamed that he still slept on one side of the bed after all these years, as though he forever waited for the moment Naomi would slip between the sheets, sliding up against his back as she always did. He prayed Stephanie wouldn't notice, he wanted to forget, just for tonight.

  He lowered her carefully down on to the bed, slipping his hands under her thighs, lifting the lower half of her body to meet his mouth, and that's when it happened. The feeling that this wasn't right ... this was all wrong ... she was all wrong, as he was overcome with an image inside his mind, severing him from the moment like a cold bucket of water to his desire. He could see her as though she stood before him. Kellah Slater standing in the darkness, her hands tearing at her hair, the look of torture on her face squeezed something inside of him … his heart … until he felt the blood drain from the muscle, leaving it dry and dead inside his chest.

  He tried to banish this image, her hiding within the shadows, but as hard as he tried, he couldn't. In his mind he saw her watching a house, hidden amongst a group of bushes, bushes that seemed familiar, bushes that he should know.

  His bushes ... Kellah Slater stood outside his house.

  He dropped Stephanie and her buttocks bounced as they hit the mattress.

  "I'm sorry. I can't do this," he muttered as the crack of breaking glass shattered into the room around him.

  Chapter 13

  Buildings were just a blur to her as she tried to understand which concerned her more: The fact that Hunter knew she was there, or the way she had been instinctively drawn to him.

  Drawn may not have been the most appropriate term for what she felt, but it was all she was going to fucking think ... damn it!

  She stopped running when she hit the outskirts of the city to where the desert sat. The desert was an animal all on its own, hungry and cruel, waiting patiently for some stupid human who thought they could make it across on foot. And that's exactly how she felt at this moment, stupid ... and human.

  It couldn't be, no. She couldn't have human feelings. She was a demon, a cold, manipulating, evil, twisted daughter of her Father, The Accuser. She was not human.

  "I am not HUMAN!" She cried, screaming her frustration into the open sky before her. "I am not one of YOU!"

  "You don't have to tell me," came a voice behind her, and she turned to stare into the eyes of Samael. His sat astride his bike, the engine ticking softly as it began to cool. How had he been able to track her so quickly?

  She looked down at her orb, which glowed fiercely, the swirls smashing into the sides of the crystal that confined them, mirroring her own wild emotions, and knew that its call was undeniable.

  Samael's presence here was dangerous for him. She was not in control of her desires at all, and she stepped towards him, seeking out the soft flesh of his body. Her tongue ran along the sharp edges of her teeth as she watched his gaze turn from excited to pale and frightened. He trembled slightly as she stalked him, moving quickly and without sound.

  "Do you want this?" she asked, wondering why she should care. It wasn't as if his wants mattered to her one way or the other. "If you don't, then I'd suggest you leave now."

  He looked down at his bike then back to her, and said, "Oh fuck. I've always thought I was going to die young anyway."

  He swung his leg over the back of the bike and moved towards her, his stride long and quick. Her gaze never wavered from his as their body smashed into each other's. He reached up, grabbi
ng her hair, and pulled it back hard and she was jerked backwards.

  "You be careful with those teeth, okay baby? Don't want to lose anything that can't grow back, you feelin' me?"

  She wiggled her arse, enjoying the friction of his groin on hers. She was feelin' him, in a very big way. Maybe he was exactly what she needed, to allow another human inside of her. Hell knows she enjoyed it the last time. Now, if only she didn't kill this one.

  His hands held her tightly, not allowing even the slightest of movement away from him, before he moved slightly, stepping away. Samael liked the control he had over her and for the first time in her existence, she liked it too. He reached for her face, gripping her jaw hard and squeezed. She tasted blood instantly, but the sting of pain barely registered before her mouth healed again.

  "What the fuck are you?"

  It was more of a statement than a question, so she left it unanswered. She was preoccupied enough with the feel of his hand, sliding down her throat to her breasts, cupping them hard and squeezing.

  Her breath hitched in her mouth as a bolt of lightning shot from his hands to between her thighs and she shuddered. His whispers and hot breath tingled on her mouth. "Like that, huh?"

  Now, that sounded like a question she wanted to answer, and she did whispering, "Yes."

  Hard fingers dug into the grooves of her stomach as he headed for the waistband of her jeans and what lay underneath. His fingers flicked at the button, and the zipper parted, making way for his hand to delve deeper. Samael jerked her hair roughly and, even though she enjoyed the pain, she rose on her feet, an automatic impulse that allowed his fingers to catch the edge of the lace barrier, moving quickly to slip inside.

  Both pain and pleasure rode her body so tightly she thought she would crumble and fall. As she climbed that mountain, a face pushed to the front of her mind, burning her with his soulful gaze. No, she growled in her mind, forcing herself back to the feel of Samael's hands, digging, probing, finding their way into the center of her, but it didn't work. There was no denying Hunter, and instead of the glacial eyes of the biker, she saw the soft brown of his.