L.L. Foster - The Acceptance

Freed from the confines of Bliss’s room, Gaby breathed in the cool hospital air and drooped against the wall, eyes closed as she waited for Luther.

When she heard the quiet click of the door and felt him beside her, she said, “I want to kill someone.”

“I know.” He smoothed her hair. “Me, too.”

He knew . Gaby looked at him. He hadn’t remonstrated with her for her bloodthirsty desire. He’d . . . commiserated.

“You want a truth, Luther?”

“That’d be nice.” His fingers continued to play with her hair. It was something Gaby had noticed early on, this strange fascination Luther had with her unkempt, mostly forgotten hair.

“This is hard for me.”

“I know. Me, too.”

She shook her head. He didn’t get her meaning. “No. I’m not like you, Luther. I’m hardwired to react.” Fisting a hand, Gaby pressed it against her abdomen. “Here, inside me. Everything that is me is screaming for me to do something.”

“But you don’t yet know what to do?”

She put her head back again and squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t have a fucking clue.”

“Me neither.” Luther’s hand left her hair and instead curved around her neck.

His palm was hot, a little rough. Exciting.

Lost in a vortex of extraordinary need, Gaby opened her eyes to look at him. “Sucks, huh?”

“It’s frustrating.” He crowded into her space, big and powerful, sharing his heat, his scent. “If we’re patient, if we work together, we’ll get it figured out.”

“Being patient means someone else could die.”

“That’s an impasse cops face often. It takes persistence to solve a problem, but all the while, you know someone’s life could be on the line.”

Gaby trusted that eventually she’d get the one responsible—but how many women would be hurt first? The only thing she knew with any certainty was that the bastard who’d tried to take Bliss would act again.

And again.

Somewhere along the way, he’d screw up and then she’d have him. God willing, that’d happen before another woman was tortured and murdered.

“Gaby?” Luther now had both hands on her neck, his thumbs stroking along her jawline.

How could thumbs on her chin turn her on? Maybe she was a degenerate of some sort. A sexual deviant.

With every breath she took, her chest brushed Luther’s, heightening her strange tension.

Her innate reactions sickened Gaby; she shouldn’t be thinking such carnal thoughts while Bliss lay drugged and frightened in a hospital bed.

Unwilling to look him in the eyes, Gaby said, “Yeah?”

“There’s been a lot said today that I’d like to understand.”

She snorted. “I can imagine.” Her endogenous perception to all things evil would confuse a saint. Of course a solid citizen like Luther would be confused by it. “Shoot.”

“What do you mean that you’re hardwired to react?”

That got her gaze on his. He tried to look passive, when Gaby knew Luther was anything but. “Can you handle the truth?”

In some infinitesimal way, he hardened all over. “Yes.” Gaby twisted her mouth. Maybe Luther believed that calumnious statement, but she knew better. If she gave him the whole truth, he’d be calling for the guys with the straightjacket.

A quarter-truth would serve for now. Later, if he didn’t freak out too much, she could share more.

Oh God, what was she thinking?

“Don’t think,” he said, as if he’d read her mind. “Just open up to me.”

“You asked for it.” Slipping her fingers through his belt loops, Gaby urged him closer. Feeling Luther, being with him, filled her with copious emotion and turned his aura effulgent. She liked that.

Watching him, Gaby nudged her pelvis into his hips— and saw the slight tightening of his facial muscles, felt the quickening of his pulse.

No time like the present. “When evil is near, I know it.”

Jerked from her deliberate enticement, Luther studied her face, nodded. “Explain evil.”

“Why? You know evil, Luther. You’ve dealt with it plenty of times.”

“I want to hear your definition.”

“Fine. There are bad people, and then there are true corruptions passing themselves off as humans. They don’t deserve to breathe the same air as others. They don’t merit rehabilitation, or a life in prison, or even an easy death.”

Some of the erotic energy flowing through his aura began to fade. His hold now felt more restraining than tender, his fingertips pressing into her nape.

Gaby defied him with a look. “What’s the matter, cop? Too much for you?”

Challenged, Luther held silent for a heartbeat, then he relented. “Yes, I’ve known evil like that. It’s a sad hazard of my profession.”

Poor Luther. He wanted so badly to accept her, that he tried to find correlations in their lives and attitudes. “Did you know that evil as soon as you saw it?”

Distant memories passed over his features. “On occasion. Most often, no.” His eyes narrowed. “People can be deceiving.”

Not to paladins. Not to freaks like her. “They don’t deceive me, Luther.” Just to keep him off balance, Gaby lifted to her tiptoes and kissed his mouth hard and fast. “Ever.”

Wary now, Luther set her away from him. “And when you recognize evil, what do you do about it?”

“Me?” Leaving him no illusion as to her facetiousness, Gaby said, “But Luther, I’m just a woman. Whatever could I do?”

Rather than take the bait, Luther dragged her back to him and this time the kiss was slow and deep, scorching hot, mesmerizing.

Claiming.

Gaby thought about struggling . . . but what the hell?

She needed this.

She needed more . Of him.

Little by little, she understood that sexual need caused at least part of her frustration, sleeplessness, and fractious demeanor.

For Luther.

When he ended the kiss, Luther also ended all contact. He released Gaby, stepped back two paces, and watched her.

Collapsing against the wall, Gaby touched her now swollen and tingling lips.

And sighed.

Maybe sharing with Luther wasn’t so unthinkable. Maybe, just maybe, she could ease him into the abomination of her life.

“Wow. I’m starting to like that more and more.”

He didn’t smile. “When Bliss said that she knew you’d be there, what exactly did she mean?”

With sexual awareness coursing like hot lava through her veins, Gaby watched Luther with new eyes. “You’d have to ask her.”

He tried a different tack. “What do you think she meant?”

Oh no. Not so soon. It was time to get out from under Luther’s spell.

Willing strength into her bones, Gaby pushed away from the wall. “Bliss was drugged, disoriented.” Gaby turned and started down the long corridor. “Who knows what she might’ve meant? Maybe she said that just because . . . I’m a friend.”

“And her description of the room?”

“She fantasized it because of her fear. For her, that’d be the worst to happen, so in her mind, she knew it would happen.”

“You believe that?”

No. She believed Bliss. “Maybe.” In only a few steps, Gaby decided, What the hell? He wanted to know more, so she’d tell him more. “I do believe in mind reading, though I’m not a mind reader myself.”

Rather than doubt her, Luther nodded. “How does it work?”

“I’ve never really studied it, so I’m not sure. But I do know that people have auras, and a lot is revealed through an aura.”

“You’ve mentioned auras before.”

Gaby peered up at him. “Right now, your aura is a muddy shade of violet. Want to know what that means?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Violet usually represents the ability to handle affairs with practicality. But that darker shade is pure erotic imagination.” Gaby tilted her head at him. “You’re asking about Bliss, but your thoughts are divided.”