Stories of the Otherworld: Chaotic Part 8

"Footsteps," he said. "Supernatural?"

I nodded. "Are they coming-?"

"This way," he said. "From the direction we did."

I glanced toward the far exit but knew without asking that Marsten had no intention of fleeing. Only Tristan was left, and when he realized he'd lost both his guards, he wouldn't walk away. He'd call in reinforcements.

"Hide back where you were. Keep the gun ready but-"

His eyes narrowed as he turned to track the approaching footsteps.

"More than one set," he murmured. "Probably partygoers. Can you tell?"

I concentrated, but my heart was pounding, reminding me with each rib-jangling beat that those footsteps were getting closer, and I didn't have time to dawdle. My powers caved under the pressure, and I couldn't even pick up one vibe anymore.

"It doesn't matter," Marsten whispered when I told him. "We'll see them soon enough."

The last word was leaving his lips as Tristan came into view, flanked by what could only be two additional guards. Marsten let out an oath, biting it off mid-syllable. He propelled me back to our original hiding spot between the stelae. This time, when we heard footsteps into the room, Marsten didn't move. One opponent was fine, two maybe, but three at once? Not if we didn't have to.

As they pa.s.sed, Tristan took his cell phone from his ear and scowled.

"Russell still not answering?" one of the guards said.

Tristan shook his head. "I'll try Mike. See if he can go look for Russell."

Marsten and I looked at one another, then at the spot where Marsten had hidden Mike's body-less than three feet from us. As Tristan finished dialing, Marsten tensed and I fumbled to get the gun from my pocket, then leaned out to see Tristan as he kept walking, phone to his ear. Seconds ticked past. He stabbed the disconnect b.u.t.ton.

"Vibrate," Marsten whispered.

That made sense-that they'd have their phones set to vibrate. Nothing blows your cover faster than The Ride of the Valkyrie resounding through a supposedly off-limits hall.

When the three were gone, we headed back the other way, across the main hall and into the "biodiversity" wing, a.k.a. the stuffed animal gallery. On the other side was the ceramics exhibit. Halfway across the biodiversity room, we caught strains of a lively monologue coming from the ceramics gallery. The midnight behind-the-scenes tour.

Marsten frowned at the direction of the voices, as if debating joining them and taking refuge in numbers. That depended on how likely he thought Tristan was to avoid public confrontation. After a moment, he shook his head and prodded me toward the narrow opening between a pillar and the African savanna diorama.

When I stepped into the gap, he tugged me out, then backed in and crouched, sitting on a fan box. He motioned for me to turn around and back onto his lap. As I did, I knew why he'd picked the lower position-we'd be hidden from casual viewers by a nearby meerkat display.

As I s.h.i.+fted onto his lap, his arms went around me, holding me steady... or that's the excuse I let him have. We settled in for what could be a long wait. As things went quiet, I struggled to hold back all the thoughts I didn't want to think, all the regrets and self-recriminations I'd deal with later. My heart raced, filling the void by indulging in replays of the running, the fighting, those delicious spurts of chaos that only sent my heart tripping faster still.

As I luxuriated in the memories, other visions crept in: a vulture circling overhead, an ocean of long, dry gra.s.s whispering, a breeze bringing the heavenly scent of musk, my stomach growling, tail twitching in antic.i.p.ation- Marsten s.h.i.+fted, his fingers accidentally brus.h.i.+ng my hardened nipples and I groaned, my breath coming faster.

He chuckled. "Not immune to me after all, I see."

"Hmmm?"

He cupped his hand under my left breast, and pressed it there as my heart raced beneath his fingers. When those fingers climbed to my nipple again, I let out a soft moan.

"Sorry," I said. "It's not you."

Another chuckle. "If you want to tell yourself that..."

I closed my eyes and saw the lioness crouch, hind quarters twitching, mouth watering in antic.i.p.ation. I could feel her excitement, pulse racing, and my own raced to match it. I moaned again, as Marsten's hand slid up to my shoulder.

He hesitated. "Either you have some strange erogenous zones, or you're right. It's not me, is it?"

I opened my eyes. "It's-" I waved at the display. "I pick things up, from the past... chaos."

Another brush against my hard nipples. "And this is what happens?"

"Mmm, yes." My eyes closed again. "Strange, I know..."

"Actually, no, not to me, at least. Should I stop?"

"Mmm, no."

A soft laugh. He unzipped my dress and tugged it off my shoulder, pulling the bra down with it. A wave of cool air rushed over my bare breast and I s.h.i.+vered, backing against him as his hand went to my breast, lips to my neck, tongue sliding over the sensitive spot behind my ear, raising more s.h.i.+vers. I s.h.i.+fted again and he put his free hand around my waist and repositioned me on his lap. I felt his erection hard against my rear, and pushed against it, thrusting softly. He let out a low growl and moved his lips to my ear.

"Tell me what you see," he whispered.

When I hesitated, his free hand moved to my leg, pus.h.i.+ng up my skirt, fingers tickling up the inside of my thigh. He traced the edges of my panties, then slid a finger under it. I parted my legs to let him in, but he only teased me with his finger.

"Tell me," he said.

"It's... a hunt."

"Mmmm." A growling chuckle. "Nothing like a good hunt. What do you see?"

I told him, the words coming hesitant at first, then flowing faster as his finger slid in, moving expertly as he thrust against me, egging me on when I slowed, my excitement feeding his. As the lioness sprang for the kill, I felt the first wave of climax- Then he stopped.

"It's still not me, is it?"

"Wh-wha-?"

His lips moved down my neck. "It's insufferably vain of me, but if I'm going to seduce you, I want to be the cause of your arousal, not pa.s.sive recipient."

"You don't seem all that pa.s.sive to me."

He laughed, but shook his head, fingers on my thigh.

I craned around to look at him. "So you're just going to leave me hanging?"

He hesitated, then shook his head. "That wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me, would it?"

"Not at all."

"Hmmm."

He still hesitated, toying with the edge of my panties.

"Well...?" I said.

"I'm trying to decide..."

"I say yes."

He laughed. "I doubt it, and I doubt we're thinking of the same question."

"Which is...?"

"Control. As in, can I help you without helping myself to you."

I stood, turned around and repositioning myself on his lap, facing him, squarely straddling him, hands around his neck. "What if I'm offering?"

He growled deep in his throat and reached for me, pulling me against him, hands tugging up my skirt as I unb.u.t.toned his pants- An alarm rang, so fast and sudden I almost toppled backward off him.

I looked around. Smoke wafted from the hall. I pictured the fire demon again, reaching for the vase of scrolls, sparks raining from his fingertips. A few must have fallen into the vase, smoldered there and caught fire.

From the other room came the shrieks of people hearing alarms, smelling smoke, and reacting as if the building had transformed into the Towering Inferno. I caught the first lick of chaos and s.h.i.+vered, then shut it off.

Marsten's arms went around me, pulling me back against him with a hard thrust and a soft growl. I rotated to face him, my hands going around his neck, mouth finding his, drinking in the chaos arising around us. Burning building? Who cared? I had a more urgent fire to put out.

Marsten growled again, this one harsher as he pulled his lips from mine.

"I hate to be the one to bring this up, but..."

"The building's on fire?"

"Unfortunately."

I slipped my hands under his s.h.i.+rt. "How fast can it burn?"

A low growling chuckle as he pressed against me. "You have no idea how badly I'm tempted to test that. But I have to remind myself that you're acting under the influence of something."

"Something other than you, you mean."

"There's that, too."

"Vain," I said, poking him in the chest.

He caught me up in a hard, deep, tongue-diving, groin-grinding kiss, then put me back on my feet.

"Time to go," he said, and started across the room.

"Tease."

He tossed a smile over his shoulder. "Just giving you something to remember, once all this interference is out of the way."

We reached the main hall to find it log-jammed with people. Marsten hesitated, then took my arm and led me straight into the heart of the mob. The crowd buoyed us along, and before I knew it, the cool night breeze was rippling through my hair. I looked up, and only then, seeing the stars winking against the city's glow, could I truly believe it.

We were out. Free.

If Tristan and his guards were here, they'd be watching with dismay as the museum expelled a steady river of white s.h.i.+rts and black jackets and nary a yellow dress to be found. The crowd was so thick that even if I hadn't covered my dress, they'd probably never have picked me out.

As fire engines and taxis competed for curb s.p.a.ce, sirens and blaring horns rose above the din of partygoers yelling for their lost spouses and friends. A few taxis managed a pa.s.senger s.n.a.t.c.h-and-grab before the police cordoned off the area.

We let the crowd carry us across the road, where the taxis were regrouping. Marsten's grip suddenly tightened, and he ducked sideways, nearly plowing me into a white-haired woman with a walker. As I glared at him, a voice cut through the din.

"Hope? Hope!"

"Don't look," Marsten muttered by my ear as he steered us into another pocket of people. "Just pretend you don't-"

"Hope?"

Douglas cut between a couple. He smiled at me. There I was, bedraggled and dirty, hair flying everywhere, wearing a tux jacket, running from a burning building, and he only smiled, as if I'd just popped back from the buffet line.

"The Bairds have invited us for drinks," he said.

I stared, the words not penetrating, certain I was mishearing and somehow the din around us had turned "Oh my G.o.d, are you okay?" into an invitation for post-inferno c.o.c.ktails.

"I-I have to go," I said finally. "The-the paper. The fire. I need to-"

"Oh, you'll need to write it up, won't you?" He smiled and winked. "For a cause, I'd go with spontaneous human combustion."

"I was thinking more of fire demons," I muttered.

"Sure. That's different. I'll let you go, then. Have fun, and don't work too hard."

Marsten yanked me backward again, as Douglas slipped off through the crowd. When we reached the sidewalk, Marsten body-checked a young man and shoved me through an open cab door, then crawled in after me and slammed it.

He looked over. "Your address?"

I gave it.

To the driver, though, Marsten just said, "Head east."

"Oh, Riverside is beside the river," I said. "Which is north."

Marsten didn't correct the driver, just shut the panel between the front and rear seats and buckled up.

"To be safe, you should spend the evening someplace else. Your mother's maybe? Is she in the city?"

"Yes, but if I'm in danger, I'm certainly not taking it to her, no matter how slight the risk."

"Friend, sibling, cousin..."

I shook my head. "Same thing. This is my problem, so until it's resolved, I'm keeping it that way. We should find a hotel or motel on the outskirts of town, and get some rest before we figure out how to resolve this, because I'm a.s.suming Tristan won't just give up and go away."