Sexual interest darkened her eyes and spiked her breaths. “I would relish the opportunity to show my remorse.”
“Of course you would.” Fabian favored her with an utterly false smile. With her big innocent eyes and vulnerable demeanor, Shari would help him to gain the trust of the young girl. And once he had her trust, he would enslave her and present her as a gift to the others.
As one, they would commit the gravest sin, an orgy of taboo wickedness, and in that act, he would cement his dominance over them, and secure them all as his slaves.
Filtered sunlight penetrated the bedroom drapes, announcing the dawn of a new day. Gaby stared toward the ceiling, watching dust motes dance in a stray sunbeam. All along her side, her skin tingled in awareness of Luther’s proximity. After hours of sexual indulgence, he’d fallen asleep with a protective arm draped around her midriff, one heavy thigh over both of hers.
Through a remarkable infusion of carnal stimulation, he had obliterated her unease.
But the night was long, hours had passed, and the conviction that an anomalous personal defect tied her to a grotesque monster gnawed on Gaby’s peace of mind.
Luther stirred, stretched, drew her closer. Voice rough and deep, he murmured, “Good morning.”
He sounded so pleased with himself, and with her. She knew men enjoyed sex, so he’d probably appreciated her method of cure.
Gaby turned her head to look at him. “Thank you for last night.”
Sexy bristles covered his jaw, his chin, and upper lip. He leaned in and kissed her, soft and light, then rolled to his back and stretched again.
Going up on one arm, Gaby looked at him. He had the most impressive chest, at least to her. In fact, his entire body seemed designed to push her buttons. Before Luther, no man had physically impressed her.
“Today is going to be rough.”
He scrubbed his hands over his eyes. “I need coffee before you tell me anything horrendous.”
Gaby scowled, but the pinch in her brows faded as he sat up on the side of the bed, giving her a seductive view of his broad back and firm backside.
She sat up, too, and though it stunned her, her attitude softened. “We have time for coffee.”
“Glad to hear it.” He pushed off the bed and strode into the bathroom.
Grumbling to herself over his cavalier attitude, she left the bed and headed for the kitchen. She was far from domestic, but she could put together a pot of coffee.
However, the longer Luther took, the more her agitation rippled and surged. She listened as he showered, heard him dressing, and a minute later he strode into the kitchen, but pulled up short to find her naked.
Paused in the doorframe, he devoured her with a look, shook his head, and smiled. “We need to get you a house-coat.” He walked up to her and touched her face. “How did you sleep?”
“Good.”
“Not cold this morning?”
She shook her head. “Luther—”
He put a finger to her mouth. “Whenever possible, coffee first.” He got down two cups.
His mood today confounded her. “Nothing has changed, you know. The evil is still out there.”
“An evil that we’ll catch. I have faith in that.” He took two worshiping sips of his coffee, made a sound of pleasure, and sat down in a kitchen chair. “Okay, I think I’m ready. Let’s start with what had you so upset last night.”
Not an unreasonable suggestion, but she felt pressed to clarify. “I wasn’t upset.”
“Course not.” He sipped more coffee.
Her agitation growing, Gaby got her own coffee and leaned back on the counter.
“I wasn’t upset. But I did need to burn off steam.”
“Because?” he prompted.
Infuriated with his attitude, Gaby jerked out her own chair and sat opposite him. “Several reasons. It pisses me off to like Ann in spite of myself.”
“She’s a likeable person. And since there’s nothing of a romantic nature between her and I, you have no real reason to dislike her.”
Reason had nothing to do with her jealousy, so she let that jibe slide. “It really had me irked that you deceived me and left me in the dark.”
“I do apologize for that.” He took her hand, ran his thumb along her knuckles. “I promise, whenever possible, I won’t do it again.”
Whenever possible? She pulled away from him and curled her fingers into a fist. “And then to see all that crazy shit at the rave . . . God, Luther, I wanted to kill some people, I really did. And I could have.” She put her arms around herself and slouched in her chair. “You know that.”
“I do know it.” He looked down at his coffee cup, but brought his gaze right back to hers again. “I want you to know how much I appreciate it that you handled things so well.”
“But you think you could have done better without me there?”
He studied her for several seconds before speaking. “You’re being honest, so I’ll try to do the same.” After finishing off his cup of coffee, he stood to get more. At the coffeepot, his back to her, he said, “You did great, Gaby. You gave Fabian just the right attitude to keep him interested, and to convince him that you were on a par with him.”
She turned in her seat to face him. “I am on a par with him.” Her chest tightened. “And that’s the biggest part of what had me so itchy in my own skin.”
“No.” Forgetting the damn coffee, Luther reached for her hands and drew her out of the seat. “Not for a single second do I want you to think you have any semblance to a lowlife cretin like Fabian.” He cupped her face. “You infuriate me, and you take things to extremes, usually well outside legal limits. But your purpose is always to protect innocents, not take sick pleasure in torturing them for your amusement.”
As her agitation grew, Gaby had to accept that it wasn’t only her association to Fabian. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Standing still proved impossible, so she paced away from Luther, but quickly returned to the comfort of his nearness. “It’s difficult to explain, but I recognized him on some other level. You saw how he looked at me, that he thought we were acquainted.” Her muscles began to tighten. “I think he’s right.”
Luther rubbed her shoulder, showing his concern. “Maybe you met him during one of your foster home stays. He could have been—”
“No.” Before he’d even finished voicing the possibility, Gaby shook her head. “I never connected with any of them. My stays were short-lived and, for the most part, the people who tried to take me in just ignored me. We sure as hell never bonded.”
“Maybe he was a member of Father Mullond’s congregation?”
Mentions of Father, the priest who had first shared her burden, always perturbed her on a deep level. “Evil is not influenced by morality, so I doubt Fabian is a churchgoer. But it wouldn’t matter, because I barely attended myself. Father tried, but . . . ” She sent a narrow-eyed look at Luther. “God and I have a more personal relationship. It’s not meant to share with the masses.”
Luther nodded. “Then where have you met him?”
“I don’t know that I have. What I felt wasn’t a simple recognition. It was more than that.” When she’d looked at Fabian, neared him, awareness had beset her in a panoply of impressions, both emotional and physical. “It’s a connection, a bond of some kind. I understand him, Luther. I feel him, know him.” Her head pounded, and she closed her eyes tight to admit, “I’m . . . drawn to him.”
He showed his dislike of that in the stiffening of his shoulders and the edge in his tone. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I don’t know.” Gaby pressed a fist under her breast as if she could remove the ache in her heart. “But I feel it, I know it’s real. And I have no idea what to do about it.”
Chapter 13
Luther pulled Gaby into his arms. When she would have pushed free, he hugged her tighter. “I need it,” he said near her ear, “whether you do or not.”