Shadow Whispers Read online

  Hands scouring up his back, she tangled her fingers in his short hair and yanked up his head, dragging the tip of her tongue up the bowed column of his neck, luxuriating in the gelidity of his smooth skin. He tasted like the night.

  His Adam’s apple moved under her lips as an inaudible groan sounded in his throat. The response flooded her pussy with wet heat. She knew he wanted to pleasure her, but rarely did he let her know how much she pleasured him. The times he’d come to her in her sleep he’d taken her to blissful release without once demanding anything of her—the perfect dream lover—but now his consuming desire had moved beyond the blaze in his eyes, the fervor of his actions. Now she knew she affected him too.

  She weaved her lips up his neck, let her teeth nip at his earlobe as her fingers moved to the hard pebbles of his nipples. His cock twitched as she dragged her thumbs across each and she felt new beads of pre-cum squeeze from its hot head.

  The only warm part of his body…

  The thought flittered through her befuddled brain, unimportant.

  Ignored.

  God, she wanted this so much. Wanted to have him fill her, fuck her until the end of time.

  Wanted so much for it to be more than a dream.

  As if he heard her, the silent man lifted his head, staring at her with eyes that burned. It is more, Tess…

  The soundless words moved from his lips to her ears and Tess gasped. “You spe—”

  He didn’t let her finish.

  With a thrust that was both brutal and total, his cock plunged into her willing pussy. So deep, she felt its bulbous head press the wall of her sex.

  “Oh, God.” She threw back her head, sinking her nails into his shoulders as he drove into her again. Yet even as she did, her hands seem to grasp nothing.

  You’re going mad.

  Balls, heavy and hot with desire, slapped against her ass as he penetrated her again, again, again. Yes, she was going mad. A clear case of sexual insanity.

  The fire roared higher. Devouring oxygen.

  Lush lips fell on her neck, like ice on her sweat-slicked shoulder. Teeth nipped at her fevered flesh as a cock that grew larger and larger with every thrust, punched deeper into her pussy, invading not only her sex but her being as well. Filling her. Consuming her.

  Possessing her.

  The cold thought sliced through her pleasure-fogged head and her heart froze.

  NO.

  An angry shout rocked the room—her soul—in a silent voice somehow familiar.

  Chad?

  Eyes snapping open, Tess stared up at her lover. And saw the ceiling. “What the…”

  Rising up onto her elbows, she looked around the empty lounge room, squinting at the bright midday sun flooding through the windows. Shameful disgust rolled through her. Christ. Scrambling upright, she dragged her fingers through her hair. Her scalp felt hot with sweat, but whether from the sweltering heat of the day, or the sweltering sex she’d just dreamt, she didn’t know.

  She shifted, crossing her legs beneath her in an attempt to ignore her still throbbing pussy and aching clit. She let out a ragged breath. What the fuck was wrong with her? Not only was she dreaming during the day, her mind was so messed up, her one source of release now sounded like her dead ex-boyfriend?

  She dropped her head into her hands, feeling stupid. Stupid and empty. Opening her eyes, she stared blindly at the barely charred logs. She needed to get her act together. She couldn’t go on like—

  Something bright and colorful in the fireplace stopped the thought.

  Something that shouldn’t be.

  Her heart a pounding hammer in her chest, Tess leaned forward, trembling hands lifting the “something” from the scattered ashes.

  The photograph of her and Chad. More perfect and spotless than it ever had been.

  Mouth dry, blood cold, Tess stared at it. “What the fuck is going on?”

  Chapter 3

  With something very close to fear licking through her veins, Tess thumped her fist on the closed library door. “Ms. Jones? I know you’re in there, Ms. Jones.”

  Silence.

  Tess pounded the door again, hot pain shooting up into her shoulder with each fierce blow. “Ms. Jones?”

  “She’s not in.”

  Barely suppressing the urge to scream, Tess spun around.

  Mervyn Sullivan stood at the bottom of the library’s steps, mangy kelpie at his feet. That misogynistic grin was back on his face but his eyes seemed to burn with a fervor that made Tess’s hair stand on end. “Finished photographin’ those dead sheep, have ya?”

  Eyes narrowing, Tess crossed her arms. “Yes, now I thought I’d photograph a dead farm. Know of one?”

  Merv tilted forward and spat. “City folk.” With a snarl he walked away, dog scurrying after him, leaving Tess alone again. She blew at her fringe. It was obvious Robyn wasn’t coming out, even if Merv was wrong and she was still inside. Gnawing on her bottom lip for a second, she wondered what to do next. She sure as hell wasn’t going home yet.

  You scared?

  A dark frown pulled at her eyebrows. Scared of what?

  A photo you know you destroyed that suddenly exists again?

  Her frown grew darker. “Don’t be stupid.”

  Or the fact your dream lover suddenly sounds like your ex-lover? Your dead ex-lover?

  The chill that raced up her spine made her shiver, and Tess bit back a curse. She was tired, lonely, and still emotionally raw, that’s all. Anyone would be after going through what she had. Puffing at her fringe again, she started walking east, ignoring the squirming tickle in her gut and the aching pulse in her scar. The library might be closed, but the post office sure as hell wouldn’t be. If she couldn’t talk to Robyn, she would talk to Mr. Jenkins instead. Someone, somewhere in this town knew something—and that was far too many “somes” for Tess’s liking.

  The post office however, was closed when Tess, skin slicked in a fine sheen of perspiration from the baking summer sun, stopped before it. Dragging fingers through her hair, she shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” What in the name of God was going on? She was a suspicious person by nature—all journalists had to be—but this was getting ridiculous. She was beginning to think there was a conspiracy. “Fuck.”

  She scowled at the silent post office, grinding her teeth. She needed to do some research, do some digging on Robyn Jones. Something about the woman rubbed her the wrong way. A quick Google search to start with. Fifteen minutes or so on her laptop should start the ball rolling, should give her some answers.

  Your laptop at home you mean?

  A slight chill rippled up Tess’s spine and she pulled a face. She didn’t want to go home. Not yet.

  Frustrated and more than a little angry at herself, she yanked her cell phone from her back pocket. She’d search on her smartphone. If nothing else, it would keep her mind off the shredded photo she’d left in a small pile on the kitchen table.

  And the sound of Chad’s voice in your head?

  Swiping her thumb over the screen, she started to scroll through her apps before what she was doing dawned on her. Closing her eyes, she let out an exasperated groan. Kangaroo Creek had no cell phone service, a delightfully annoying little fact she’d discovered on her first day.

  She scrubbed at her face with the palms of her hands. No laptop. No internet connection. No postmaster. No Robyn Jones. No goddamn answers.

  Forcing down another squirming twinge of unease, completely flummoxed about what was going on, she turned around.

  And crashed straight into a brick wall. A brick wall with long arms and large, warm hands that curled around her biceps. A brick wall with a deep voice, like smoke and whiskey. “That’s some colorful language you have there.”

  Tess looked up into the brick wall’s—no, the man’s—face. The stranger. From outside the library. Her sex contracted and her breath caught in her throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

  Eyes the turbulent blue-grey
of the clouds on a stormy day studied her from beneath a shaggy mop of honey-blond hair. “Obviously.” A lopsided grin pulled at lips both lush and strong. “Unless this is just your way of getting me to notice you?”

  Tess’s pulse leapt into startled life and she sucked in a sharp breath. Not because of the firm way the stranger gripped her arms—the first skin-to-skin contact she’d experienced since leaving the hospital—but because of the damp heat stabbing into her pussy at the intense way he looked at her. As if he could see into her soul.

  An image flashed into her mind; his tall, muscular body pressing hers against the post office wall, their hips aligned, his hands on her breasts, hers on his ass, his mouth on her neck, hers open with ecstasy.

  She sucked in another breath. What is with you, Darcy? You’re turning into a nympho.

  Contempt and unease shot through her chest and she took a step backward, slipping from his warm grasp. “I hate to deflate your ego, but I’ve never seen you before this very second.” She gave him a cool stare, even as her pussy fluttered. “So the chance of me wanting your attention is zero to none.”

  The grin on his lips stretched wider. “Ah, but now you have seen me,” he said, a mischievous light in his eyes, “are you sure that’s still the case?”

  Tess’s pussy pulsed again, bringing with it a warm sense of need in her sex she hadn’t experienced with a man—a real man—before. She suppressed a growl. Whoever this guy was, her body responded to him, and that could only lead to a whole lot of complications.

  Eyes icy, she cocked an eyebrow. “Very sure.” She spun on her heel, walking back toward the library.

  “Pity.” The man said behind her, warm laughter in his voice. “I’ll watch out for you though. Just in case.”

  “There is no case,” Tess threw over her shoulder as she continued walking away. But no matter how hard she tried, nothing stopped the squirming waves of hot excitement that rolled through her core at the idea of his “in case”, or the tight pressure that gripped her chest.

  Where her lonely, aching heart sat.

  * * * *

  How was he going to talk his way out of this?

  Speaking to her? Touching her?

  How many more rules could he break before he was flung to Hell?

  The flesh of Jared’s palms still tingled from contact, infusing his fingers and arms with a desire more powerful than life to feel her again. Breathing was no longer an option, but if he had the capacity, he knew each breath he took would smell of her, delicate and clean like new jasmine on a spring morning.

  Jaw clenched, Jared watched Tess move west along Hill Street. The fear had gone from her aura but hot agitation still ribboned through her energy. He could feel that anger in his very core. It threatened to consume her. From the first second he’d felt Tess’s life force many months ago, he’d sensed her pain, like shards of ice that cut into her very being. He’d watched her so closely her colors, her feel were now forever imprinted on his soul. Yet today her life force was different. Something bad happened to her both at her home and here at the library, and he couldn’t do anything about it except fucking watch. Waiting for a sign, a hint, a Cold Force had found her.

  A flash of anger shot into his chest, but he shoved it away. He wasn’t here to get angry. Getting angry had landed him in all sorts of trouble already. An eternity of purgatory awaited him thanks to getting angry. Bitter guilt churned in his gut and he shook his head. His wife was dead thanks to getting angry.

  They’d married young. Too young. Married in a whirl of impetuous passion and deluded romance. He thought they’d love each other forever, that their love would overcome his small short-order cook’s income, his exorbitant college loan repayments. He thought their love would survive the stretches of poverty until he landed a position in an architectural firm. He thought their love would give them strength to face the hard days, the lean days.

  He’d thought wrong.

  In a charge of blinding color, a whirlwind of images shot through his head and he bit back a curse.

  …his wife and his best friend from college, laughing together…casual brushes of hands, shoulders, hips…their secretive gazes connect over the dinner table…their limbs entwine as they writhe together in the throes of ecstasy on the tussled sheets of Jared’s bed…

  He tried to force the image away, cold pressure squeezing his chest, his throat, but it wouldn’t go. The memory assaulted him with vivid clarity, despite the decades passing. All the more hideous because of them.

  …Millie, face red with hate, screams she no longer loves him, she can’t stand the poverty, the lack of jewellery and furs and exotic vacations…pounds her knotted fists against his chest…his hands lock around her wrists, shaking her arms…Millie stuffing a suitcase full of clothes…running out the door, tears painting her contemptuous face…her lifeless body on a cold, metal slab…

  He ground his palms to his eyes, knowing what came next, his gut already churning.

  …his own fists grip the steering wheel of his car…a hairpin curve…a blood-splattered shattered windscreen…

  Thirty-five years ago, he’d died in a car accident, his last breath poisoned with dark guilt. Time meant nothing in death, but Guilt knew Time very well. Guilt and Time were the best of friends. Thirty-five years of suspended existence, awaiting Judgement, meant thirty-five years of stinging guilt. He’d loved Millie. Deeply. He’d thought they’d be together forever. Her betrayal had torn him apart. But was that any excuse to shout at her? Grab her? He’d always had difficulty controlling his anger. If he hadn’t shouted at Millie, if he hadn’t told her to leave, would she still be alive today?

  Would he?

  With a growl he forced the hideous, unwanted memory away. All too soon he’d be punished for the sin, reliving it now served no purpose. He had one opportunity for redemption and one only—watching Tess Darcy, protecting her from the Depraved One. He needed to keep his head clear.

  No chance of that now, Jared. Not after feeling Tess’s soft warmth under your hands.

  A wry sigh escaped him. Watching her sleep on her living room floor, watching the dream claim her the second she’d closed her eyes had been torturous. The smoldering purple hues of her arousal flared about her, making her glow with sensual power and intoxicating heat. Christ, he’d never been so overwhelmed with the need to press his body to hers. He’d wanted to feel her more than anything at that very moment. But he hadn’t.

  Instead, he’d “felt” the surrounding folds of actuality for a benevolent presence and encountered only the distorted scarring of his own. Instead, he’d weaved layers of light drawn from the wildlife inhabiting the nearby bush through the existence surrounding Tess, hoping the impermanent, fragile shield would act as a forewarning alarm should a malevolent force approach her.

  Instead, he’d noted the building pleasure in her aura, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the erratic beat of her pulse, the shallow quickening of her breath. And with that observation, his own aura erupted in purple flames.

  He hadn’t orchestrated their contact today, but that wouldn’t save him if the Powers chose to exert punishment. Touching was completely out of the question.

  Tess’s delicate scent tickled at his soul and his cock flooded with forceful hunger, growing long, stiff, and rigid with need. He shook his head in disgust. If he were called back right now his hard-on alone would see him in Purgatory so quick even Lucifer would be surprised to see him. Lust was not permitted in a Watcher’s soul. Ever.

  With a scowl, Jared turned away from the enticing vision of Tess striding along Hill Street. He needed release.

  Eyes closed, he concentrated on his next destination…

  …and appeared inside the cool main room of Divine Intervention.

  “I need to see Mistress K,” he said to the female attendant unpacking a cardboard box half-filled with books called A Kleenex for Mary.

  The woman lifted her head from the task and cast him a steady look. “I’m sorry, si
r. I think you have the wrong t—”

  “It’s okay, Kirralee,” a tall, willowy woman in a long, white caftan and faded jeans said, stepping out through a concealed door behind the counter. Gold-chipped hazel eyes locked directly on Jared and an arrow of blistering heat speared straight into his already swollen balls. “I will see this one.” Those eyes flicked over him and her shaggy chestnut hair seemed almost to glow. “Though how anyone sees him,” she continued in an off-handed manner, “is a mystery.”

  With a tilt of her head and a tiny smile, she turned and disappeared back through the door, the sheer white caftan floating behind her like smoke.

  Jared stood still for a moment. He shouldn’t be here. He should be doing what he was sent to do. Watching Tess.

  At the very thought of her name, his balls grew tighter, his cock a turgid length of twitching heat in his jeans.

  No matter what you do at this second, Jared, you’re still going to burn when your time in Kangaroo Creek is finished. And after touching Tess today, just watching her from now on is going to be damn near impossible.

  Bunching his fists, he stared hard at the black opening beckoning him. He had to clear his head. He needed to focus.

  Without looking at the hovering Kirralee, he rounded the counter and followed the woman with the arresting hazel eyes down the stairs, into the darkness below.

  He was going to burn, there was no escaping it. But he needed to feel pain right now to clear his head.

  For Tess’s sake.

  And his own.

  * * * *

  She stood at her front door, palms sweaty. What would she find inside?

  The dry westerly gusted around her ankles, whipping at her calves and thighs. It brought with it, not only baking heat, but fine dust particles from stripped earth and the stench of scorched sheep droppings. It stung Tess’s sinuses and she crinkled her nose. She had two options at this point—stand on her front veranda under assault of the wind, too gutless to enter her own home, or open the bloody door and go inside.