Page 19 of Whispers of Torment

“Actually, you’re closer to his age than mine,” he said, staring at his fingernails. “You were frozen at twenty-two.”

“I like my men older,” she said, stretching across the candlelit table.

“How old?”

“Like centuries,” she said firmly, biting her lip.

And then the waiter appeared with a bottle of exquisite red wine, which he displayed for John’s approval. While their glasses were filled with the clear ruby liquid, John tapped the invisible keys of a piano.

Lillian felt the waiter’s eyes searching her face. John cleared his throat and the waiter moved away. Once they were alone, she placed her fingers over John’s.

“You haven’t played in too long.”

He tossed a glance across the restaurant to the parquet floor where two couples rotated in their tiny, modern circles. “And you haven’t danced in too long.” He offered her a hand. Just then, the quartet struck a familiar lively tune.

Lillian did an elaborate spin into John’s waiting arms. Excitement rushed through her veins. She’d forgotten the heady feeling that dancing gave her. How long had it been? Ten years? Twelve? Yet at one time, she and John had danced their way through every night.

The other couples abandoned their efforts and stood back to watch. As she and John utilized the entire dance floor, he grinned. “It never ceases to amaze me, this,” he said. “You could be on Broadway.”

“What happens when people realize I don’t age?” She did some tricky, heel-toe tapping footwork.

He spun her out and watched her with gleaming eyes. A cheer rose from the restaurant.

“Besides,” Lillian said a little breathlessly, “it’s not my heart’s desire to perform onstage.”

He reeled her in and dipped her low, hovering over her with his lips inches away.

“What is your heart’s desire?” He crushed his mouth against hers.

He tasted sweet and true—pure John. She forgot her uneasiness and reveled in his touch.

The music ended and they rose from their embrace to loud applause. The wine was kept flowing long into the night. As immortals, they enjoyed the delicious high of the wine and the loss of inhibitions without a trace of a hangover. And when John finally lifted her to her feet, the heat plummeted instantly between her thighs.

“What’s on tap for tomorrow?” Her slurred voice was unrecognizable to her own ears.

He gave her a dark look. “A secret. I told you that this portion of the journey will be to your liking. And I always keep my promises.” As she slipped into the coat he held for her, his knuckles brushed the sides of her breasts. She slumped against him, desire pulsing through her veins.

But with it came the flicker of lightning bolt tattoos.

“Hurry, John.” She said curled a hand about the back of his neck. “Find us a bed.”

Nathan collapsed into the seat of the new Ford F-150 rental truck. What do I do? What? How do I get to her faster?

Lillian was speeding away from him, he was shaking like a crack addict needing a fix and the damned Visions wouldn’t offer him a look at her location, only her surroundings. He saw her against a pale car interior, fingering the long mahogany coil of hair over one shoulder. He saw that she wore charcoal grey silk. He saw the point of her chin and the elegant column of her throat. The keyhole of sight had widened, but not enough. He couldn’t see a road sign or interstate number. He couldn’t see her eyes.

He jammed his fingers through his hair, the heat of that small glimpse surging through his body. It swelled within him, back building like a fire out of control. The blood itch was unbearable and aggravating and beautiful.

His hand trembled on the keys in the ignition. The truck roared to life. Then he removed the phone from his pocket and linked it to the truck. Instantly, the heavy, pounding metal music drummed the windows. The vibration ricocheted up his arms like the shock of a hammer blow, and it calmed him.

Within minutes he was on the interstate, speeding toward Lillian. John LeClair could move her from place to place, but eventually Nathan would catch up.

This idea brought another question to the fore. Did John LeClair know his woman had Called to another man and was purposefully running with her? If John LeClair was immortal, he would see the glow of The Calling upon her.

You can’t outrun The Calling, you bastard. When I find her, she will fall into my arms. Our blood is tied.

Nathan chanted this in his head in time to the beat. Soon the California coast was speeding darkly beside him. The scent of the sea was in his air, fresh and fecund. He had never been to California, but he didn’t miss it. He had eyes only for the braid and glowing skin of his Visions.

The low fuel sensor on the truck sounded and he cursed. He despised the smell of gasoline, and though he liked to drive modern vehicles, he did everything in his power to avoid filling the gas tank. Give him a barn full of horses and a pitchfork of hay to fuel them any day.

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