Intimate Whispers Page 6

So, he needed to talk to her. Except what to say?

  “I think you would have liked Thad,” he tried. “He was a good guy despite his faults. I think I mentioned that he swam like a fish, but, Sabrina, you should have seen him. There wasn’t a stroke he didn’t master.”

  He remembered attending swim meets with his parents, his heart swelling as he watched his brother stretch ahead of the other swimmers. Making it seem as easy as breathing.

  “And there wasn’t a person he didn’t like. He was so popular in high school, the kind of guy everyone wanted to be around. The thing was, you couldn’t even envy him.

  He deserved to have people fawn over him. I remember this one time these younger kids were picking on the class loser. Michael, I think. Thad handed me his stuff and stepped in between them. Didn’t say a word. Just stood there.” Jason paused, remembering that day. Thinking his brother was going to be toast in about two seconds.

  “I don’t know what made them leave, but they did. He didn’t exactly befriend Michael afterward, but it stopped the jeering and that made that kid look up to him like a god.

  “I’m not like him. Never was. Thad saw beneath people’s exterior and knew the heart of them. Me? I have to take forever to get to know someone. Although I try to tell myself not to judge a book by its cover, I don’t have his ability to see the true person beneath, you know?”

  He kept talking, stories of Teddy spilling from his mouth and making his chest hurt. The buildup of memories. Of his brother’s unrealized potential. If he’d gone with him that day. All his brother had wanted to do was talk. A conversation with his younger brother that might have stopped him from leaving this world.

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  Jason’s eyes burned with the need to shed tears, but he blinked them back and kept talking. He told the woman who didn’t hear him of the pranks they’d played. The girlfriend who was Thad’s and then Jason’s later.

  Her words became more coherent now. Home. Help. Him. An alliteration that made him smile. What was going through that mind of hers right now?

  Laura said she wasn’t a danger to herself or to others. Just perhaps incapable of fending for herself and needed monitoring in this state. He wondered about her family.

  If she had friends.

  He couldn’t recall pictures around her apartment, anything to clue him in that she had a social life. He’d never seen her in the company of anyone else. Always by herself with her nose buried in a book, perhaps.

  “He’ll help me.”

  Jason risked a glance at her. “Who, baby? Who’s gonna help you?” A moment of surprise followed his questions. Baby? It was the endearment he used with previous girlfriends. To use it with Sabrina, well, her sad state coaxed it out of him. That had to be the explanation.

  “Love’s lost and never to be found again. Murderers to be caught. Babies mourned.”

  Her gibberish made him sit up from his slump. He had a thought. “What are the voices telling you? Are they telling you to hurt yourself?”

  “Take me to him.”

  The car turned the corner on the road to their building. He’d see her upstairs and try to locate a twenty-four-hour pharmacy. He spoke slowly, methodically. “We’re going. But first, I need you to tell me about the voices.”

  “Felice needs you.”

  A chill shivered down his spine, and every single hair on his arms rose. That name.

  He recognized the woman’s name and it was too coincidental that it would appear on the automatic writing note, as well as for Sabrina to speak it now. “How do you know that name, Sabrina? Where did you see it?”

  “I can’t help them,” she mumbled, facing away from him.

  “Tell me about Felice. Who is she?”

  “He’s lonely there.”

  “Felice. Concentrate on that name.”

  She folded her arms over her chest, saying nothing more.

  Jason mentally urged the cabbie to go faster, the urgency to get her home spiking his adrenaline. His palms grew sweaty, but he gripped the seatback in front of him harder. Who was Felice and why did her name resurface again to Sabrina?

  He didn’t doubt his neighbor had some connection to the world of the dead, but something in him suggested her name was important. If the automatic writing had been 38

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  an attempt to contact Teddy, and if they’d been successful, there was a message in that name he needed to decipher.

  I need some help here, bro. Who is Felice?

  The car lurched to a stop and he jumped out, heedless to cars swerving around the illegally loitering cab. Jogging to the passenger side, he pulled open her door and squatted in front of her. “Hey, Sabrina? Look at me.” He nudged her face gently when she didn’t. “Tell me what the voices are saying to you.” She looked past him, her gaze climbing the exterior walls of their home. “He’s waiting for me.”

  Pulling back the curse simmering his blood, Jason tried again. Felice and this guy she kept referring to. They were important. He knew it. “Tell me what they’re saying.

  Help me understand what you are hearing and I will get you to him.” He fell flat on his ass when she shoved him aside. Scrambling to his feet, he swiveled to find her. “Sabrina!”

  She whirled, swaying as if she’d spent the night drinking instead of under the watch of ER nurses. “I need him!”

  “Goddamn it, wait!” He started to sprint after her, but yelling made him turn back.

  “Hey! You still owe me for the ride!”

  Cursing a blue streak, Jason’s trembling hands retrieved his wallet. He lifted two twenties, balled them up and tossed them at the growling cabbie. “Keep the change!” he shouted as he took off after Sabrina.

  Thank God it was the middle of the night. Anyone who saw him chasing her inside might get the wrong idea. Hell, for all he knew, the cabbie might get curious and call the police. Whatever. He’d deal with that later.

  Faster than he thought possible, Sabrina took the stairs two at a time. Her legs moved like an athlete’s, the climb to the fourth floor barely a hindrance. By the time he hit the second floor, he was already winded and had no idea how she managed to keep going without slowing.

  Forcing down the burn, he kept moving, stumbling on a few steps, but keeping himself upright with a death-grip on the banister. “Sabrina!” It didn’t matter who heard him bellowing in the stairwell now. Laura’s damn words echoed in his thoughts. “Her mind will never come back and stay in the world of reality without them. Get them to her.”

  Why did he insist on bringing her home first? He should have gotten those meds.

  Somehow made her take them.

  Then again, if he had, would she have said Felice’s name? Maybe this way she’d remember what was said in the morning. It was a bitch of a way to think, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He’d never purposefully withhold her medications, but his conscience would have to live with taking advantage of a defenseless woman. Way to be an asshole, but the guilt he’d have to deal with later.

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  He lost sight of her when she reached the fourth floor. She threw open the stairwell door and ran through the opening, heedless to his cries. He was only twenty seconds behind her, his chest heaving from exertion when he pulled on the handle. For a split second he thought he might have triggered some sort of alarm, because a vibratory boom thundered down the hallway toward him. “Sabrina!” he called over the noise, at once fearful for her.

  The sight that greeted him sent goose bumps racing over his flesh. Sabrina pounded on the door of her apartment with double fists, spreading that awful ruckus down the hall, no doubt waking everyone on the floor. She threw her weight into every one of those swings, the force hard enough to probably break her bones against the unyielding metal.

  “I need him!” she screamed over and over again.

  Who was in that apartment? Who did she cry for with such desperation it made his heart plummet
into his stomach?

  If he approached her in the same harried state, it would do neither of them any good. Despite every urge to take her and shake her until her teeth rattled, he called down a shower of calm and walked slowly. Struggling to get his breathing under control, Jason tried again. “Sabrina. Look at me.” When she kept up the awful pounding, he tried again. “Sabrina!”

  He’d never be able to put words to how he got through, but she stopped to look at him. Tears washed down her face. Red-rimmed eyes stared at him, pleading silently for help.

  Like talking to a wounded bird, he kept his voice gentle. “What’s wrong, baby? Let me help you.”

  “Who’s in there?” he continued, walking as slowly and smoothly as the tone of his voice. Keeping his eyes above the level of the doorknob she’d apparently not bothered to try, he prayed like hell she’d left the door unlocked. Her keys could be anywhere.

  “I’ll help you.”

  “I need him,” she whimpered before clamping her hands over her ears. Tears flowed fast and furious now, the sight enough to battle with his own emotions.

  Whatever spoke to her, didn’t just speak. There was torture in her stance, in the way she tried to block out the voices.

  The gentle click of a doorknob turning came from down the hall. He didn’t turn to face it, but heard the questioning voice. “Is everything okay out here?”

  “Fine,” he replied, his voice like silk. Sabrina stood stock-still in front of him, and he kept moving slowly. She was calm now and he planned on keeping her that way.

  Deliberately, he let her see him reach toward the knob. No quick actions. No threat to her. He would only open the door. He hoped.

  With another small prayer, he gripped the knob and turned. His gut clenched when it didn’t budge, but this wasn’t his first time at this dance. God only knew how many times he’d locked himself out when he’d first moved in until the maintenance man 40

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  clued him in to a little-known secret. So long as only the lock on the knob hadn’t been engaged, there was still a way in. If she’d engaged the deadbolt, a call to the locksmith would be in order.

  Jason reached into his back pocket and whipped out his wallet. He retrieved a single credit card. For some reason Sabrina watched with rapt attention as he jimmied the slim plastic in between the latch and the jamb. A quick glance at her proved fat tears still rolled down her face, but she seemed to have acquired a measure of calm. Her astute attention might have bothered him on any other day, but today it centered him.

  A puff of air escaped his mouth when after a few minutes struggle, a loud click sounded. He turned the knob again, the motion following through, and allowing him to open the front door to her apartment all the way. Sabrina let out a similar gasp of relief and slid past him. Before she made it all the way, she stopped and lifted her eyes to meet his.

  He held his breath, no idea whatsoever what to expect from her. The delicate placement of her hand beneath his chin was the furthest thing he expected to happen.

  Until Sabrina elevated herself on her toes and pressed her mouth to his.

  Her lips were soft, a whisper of a kiss so awe-inspiring its heat traveled straight down through his toes. It warmed him through, his body coming to life beneath that single place of contact. At some point his eyes slipped closed, and behind them, he saw heaven.

  One simple kiss.

  She pulled away and backed into her apartment. Jason swallowed hard, knowing he needed to stop her, to speak with this him-person, but his emotions tilted back and forth, his world completely off-kilter.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, closing the door.

  Crossing the threshold as always muted the voices. He was here, His presence alive and humming through the apartment. For some reason, she knew Jason still waited, but for what she didn’t know.

  Jason on one side of the door. Him on the other.

  She hesitated, needing to go to Him, but so much wanting to return to Jason. He came for her at the hospital. She remembered that. How she got there eluded her, but her neighbor brought her safely home.

  Her neighbor. He was so much more than that by now, wasn’t he?

  Once again, selfless, he came to her rescue and asked nothing in return. When in her right mind, after paying penance in the bedroom, she would seek him out and help him with reaching his brother. She might not be able to contact him, but she would do no less than put forth sincere effort into trying.

  For now, she needed Him and He waited.

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  Naked, Sabrina walked into the bedroom, her clothes a trail of breadcrumbs leading to where they would meet. In here His presence amplified, almost to the point she staggered back. This was new. His words always announced Him—not this pulse of energy that detonated within her.

  You need me.

  “Yes.” She nodded, crawling on all fours onto the bed, not caring if the sheets were turned down or clean. Just requiring that He put an end to the voices again. They grew louder, strangely. Their reverberating no, no, no forming a headache at the base of her neck and traveling up to meet at a pinnacle.

  For the first time she questioned whether her body was physically ready to accept Him, because she didn’t feel the same heaviness between her thighs that normally signaled her arousal. Her mind flashed to an image of Jason. Of him beneath her as she crawled over him. His cock erect and the swollen tip glistening with a drop of his lust, waiting to be sheathed within her. She imagined the way he would watch her beneath hooded eyes, his lips moist from heavy kissing. His broad chest flushed from anticipation.

  Sabrina.

  His voice pulled her out of her musing, sending a wash of shame flowing over her.

  She’d never fantasized about another while in His presence. Maybe helping Jason wasn’t a good idea. Maybe the woman inside, the one who longed for the touch of a real man, the one who wanted to go on dates, who wanted to be hugged and kissed didn’t need the temptation. She’d never thought about it before, but He probably wouldn’t be too pleased with being usurped.

  “Please,” she offered, by way of apology. Bowing on her knees, she waited for Him to take her as He always did. To make her come again and again until He’d wrung her dry.

  You do need me, Sabrina.

  Her brows knitted. Although almost posed as a question, there was no inflection in that voice. No hint He expected an answer, but something resonated within her. A test, perhaps?

  “I need you. Please.”

  There was no warning. No preparation.

  He impaled her with a vicious thrust and ripped a scream from her throat. Sabrina fell forward, trying to remove Him from her dry body, needing just a few precious seconds to allow arousal to make her ready for this.

  She found no haven from Him.

  His fingers found purchase on her shoulders, digging in until she readied herself to hear bone crack beneath the force. If not breaking bones, at least a seepage of blood from where He punctured her skin.

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  There was pain. So much pain, she bit down on her lip, fighting to keep the screams muffled into the mattress lest she bring the wrath of police or nosey neighbors tearing into her sanctuary. There was agony so deep, she broke the skin of her lip, and tasted the copper pungency of her blood. The same crimson tide that poured from her back and shoulders and onto her linens.

  Desperate for a reprieve, she kept biting. Dared not beg for Him to stop or to tell Him no. This was her penance. Her price to pay for salvation. Instead, she cried out what she had to know. “Why?” she gasped before clamping down on her mangled lip again.

  Him.

  She didn’t understand at first. Him? What did that mean?

  Her lip was bloody and raw, but she refused to let it go and question Him further.

  She’d been down that road once before and learned her lesson well.

  But then she thought of the kiss. The sweet taste o
f Jason against her mouth from only minutes ago and she knew what brought on this punishment.

  You need me.

  His voice, sibilant and malevolent, slipped into her consciousness.

  You need me.

  Not for the first time she hated this. Hated that she needed Him. Hated the voices.

  Her life.

  He pounded against her, not working toward climax despite her body being at last receptive to the invasion. He brought displeasure. Exacted it from her.

  Mine.

  “Yes,” she moaned, tears filling her eyes. Unless she did something about it. She was His until the forever embrace of death claimed her. His.

  Her mind drifted to Jason. To their innocent kiss. To his deep-brown eyes.

  She thought of him. Kept her mind focused on her neighbor and waited for Him to be done.

  * * * * *

  Shouting woke her up. “Sabrina!”

  A warm hand clasped her shoulder, shooting bright bursts of pain down her arms and back. Tears filled her eyes, and the memory of Him flooded back. The man called her again. “Sabrina, Jesus, what happened? Who did this to you?” Her parched throat barely moved, but she squeezed his name out between clenched teeth. “Ja…son.”

  His hand lifted, but that was almost as bad as when he touched her. More starbursts appeared in front of her hazy vision. “I’m calling for help. Who did this?” 43

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  Hours upon hours of never-ending pain. Every time she passed out, He woke her again. Every muscle in her body ached. Joints snapped when she drew her knees toward her chest, curling in a ball, seeking comfort. Her mind wrestled with Jason’s words, his alarm. Blindly, she reached for him. “No. No help…fine.” The mattress dipped when he sat down on it. “No. Look at you. The bed.” She looked up in time to see the phone in his hand, fingers poised over buttons.

  “Please, Jason. Don’t.”

  “Sabrina, this…” His worried gaze traveled the upper portion of her nude body.

  “We have to get you help. I’ll keep you from whoever did this to you.” Placing a hand over his took more effort than she thought possible. “No. I’ll be fine.