Celeste Unknown: BORN OF NIGHT

“Why? Cause maybe you like me too much?”

She turned away from him. “I’m not answering that.”

Gabriel made a soft clucking noise as she walked away.

She could’ve ignored it--she should’ve. It might have just been her imagination, but she knew by now that Gabriel was a man to push a person’s buttons. He was determined to push her to her limits. And this was just too much. She’d damn well show the damned goading, confident bastard what she was made of.

She turned around, found him watching her expectantly, almost as though he was eager to see what she’d do. She took the two steps back to him, pressed one hand against his chest and pushed him back on the wall with little effort. She reached down and cupped his cock. His eyes widened, his mouth opened. Jessica wrapped her hand around his neck and forced him down for her kiss.

She gave him everything she had to give, forced her tongue into his mouth, massaged his erection, rubbed her body sensuously against his as she thrust in and out of his mouth. His whole body when rigid. He sucked her tongue as though starved, and she could feel the beat of his heart quicken against her breast, felt his cock jump and throb against her palm. He groaned, reaching for her, but she wouldn

’t allow it. When his hands touched her, she released his groin. His hands smacked against the facade, making him helpless, vulnerable and wanting of only what she would give.

A triumphant thrill went through her, to have him under her control. Heady pleasure rocketed through her. Her palm burned with the feel of his cock trapped in her hand.

She rubbed her thumb against the bare patch of skin exposed by one tear. He stiffened even more, sucked her tongue harder, hungrier, groaned into her mouth.

She pulled back before she could get too caught up in the moment, before she could lose her point. When she was done, it was him leaning back against the wall for support.

“I think I just won the game,” she said.

He was breathing heavily, watching her with a mixture of wariness and appreciation.

“I think maybe you did too.”

She allowed herself one victorious smile and walked away.

Jessica deeply regretted not heeding Gabriel’s earlier advice. It seemed like he’d delivered it days ago, but it had really only been a few hours. She also regretted everything that she’d allowed to happen between them. Jessica shook her head, trying to block the thoughts, the guilt. She didn’t want to dwell on it. She’d never been one to hash and rehash what she should’ve done then, what she shouldn’t have done there. She just put the whole thing out of her mind and resolved not to feel guilty for anything. At least, that’s what she’d do in an ideal world where she had ample self-control.

She didn’t. She didn’t have any self-control at all. Gabriel sucked it all out of her--literally.

After only a short time, he occupied her thoughts far more than he should’ve. She half wondered if she’d developed an obsession or something equally disturbing.

Surely normal women didn’t feel and think so much about a man. Just remembering his kisses sent her into instant lust. She swore she could still taste him, like spicy gumbo and warm, creamy coffee. His scent definitely still lingered on her, rubbed into her neck like a cologne--not a strong smell, but potent in its own subtle way.

Everywhere she walked, when the wind picked up, she caught just a hint of him, in her hair, on her clothes, like a finger making the come hither motion right under her nose. If she hadn’t known better, she’d swear her nose was more sensitive.

Everything seemed more ... sensorial now, scents sharper. Even the wind had it’s own distinct fragrance.

Her imagination was running overtime.

What she really should’ve done was gone back to the hotel and washed his scent off her skin. But she’d become so embroiled in her quest for the day, and smelling him on her gave her such a secret thrill--she hadn’t allowed herself the time.

It was nearly dark by the time she’d found out exactly where Shelly and Jacques LaValle were buried, and longer still to make it through the holiday traffic over there.

The cemetery was an above ground one, as most were in this part of the state due to heavy rains and soggy ground. The dusk created eerie shadows between the small mausoleums. Jessica walked along the path, broken shells and rock crunching under her sandals. She picked up her pace, eager to get out of the cemetery before dark.

She knew she should’ve just come back tomorrow, but she didn’t think she could wait that long.

A feeling grew in her, a warning to get out of Louisiana as fast as she could. She couldn’t explain why the feeling persisted, only that it did. Nothing had happened to her to cause it, but just the same....

Being in a cemetery didn’t help matters, and she was sure her imagination had gone into hyper mode. She’d never felt superstitious before, but there was something inherently creepy about dark cemeteries that she’d never noticed. A hush settled on the grounds, expectancy that she couldn’t quite comprehend.

There wasn’t anyone around--everyone inside had been entombed long ago, but the silence, coupled with hazy, failing sunlight worked together to give her the willies.

She shuddered and called herself names, rubbing her arms as she continued on her way, eager to get this done and be gone.

The mausoleums created a labyrinth of narrow passages, standing above her head to block her sight of other lanes and surroundings. It was almost like walking through a tunnel, except she could still see the sky. In the dark, it would probably seem more like catacombs.

Just when she’d decided to call it a night, she finally managed to locate her parents’

tomb. It was younger than it’s neighbors, like they’d lucked out and managed to procure the single remaining spot in the cemetery. A morbid thought, that, thinking of their “luck.”

Above the mausoleum stood an angel with her arms outstretched, her marble face tear stained from decades of rain.

Jessica touched the sun warmed marble, as if to assure herself it was real, that she’d actually found her parents’ final resting place. The stone was smooth, worn only slightly by time and weather. Peering closer, she could just make out the engraving on the tomb in the failing light. There was no testimony to their life together, or the child they had created. No haunting poetry. Merely their names and the date each was born and died.

Her mother had died June 2, 1978. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and looked at her father’s life date. He’d died on June 3, 1978. A sliver of fear slid down her back bone, raising her hackles. She shivered with foreboding. Her mother died the day she was born. She could understand that, that maybe she’d died in childbirth or complications arising afterward. But why had her father died the day after?

The tomb gave her no answers, only more questions. She felt more disturbed than ever before. In her heart, she knew something terrible had happened to them. She was grateful for the life she’d lived, for the love of her adoptive parents, but her life had been upset by the discovery. And now this.

Her entire life seemed a mystery, her roots hidden from her with no hint as to why.

Regret and disappointment sat heavy in her stomach.

She wondered who she really was.

Jessica desperately needed to know what had happened, but she’d run out of ideas to try and make sense of things. If this was a secret, and she knew it was, how was she to uncover it? It occurred to her that a library might possibly be a good place to start. She might even be able to learn something, pick up some clue, from the department of records.