Destiny's Wrath (Destiny Series - Book 3) by Straight, Nancy (read full novel .txt) 📗

book. Bert’s eyes went wide: now he was blacking out and losing control of his motor functions.

A voice speaking to him in his mind said, “Bert, a doctor cannot cure you. How do you feel about immortality?”

Bert’s eyes were wide with shock. He looked in all directions to see if maybe someone had come into the house, and he had missed it. He was alone, completely and utterly alone. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten home from work this afternoon; he didn’t remember arresting Jimmy Jacobs: his body seemed to have a mind of its own, and now he was hearing voices.

That same voice echoed, “Bert, you are not mentally ill. You are hosting me because I hate being in a cage, even though Jimmy was a very hospitable host. If you and I can come to some sort of an agreement, I believe I can make it worth your while. If you fight me, I will not only destroy your career, I will ruin your life and then end it. Do you follow me?”

Bert was still staring in the mirror, his hands shaking, his mouth gaping open. Bert was in his early forties, too young for retirement. Looking at his face, he saw the years staring back at him: the alcohol and long hours had taken their toll. He had been a handsome man in his youth, which had been full of poor choices, two ex-wives, and three kids that he neither spent much time with nor could relate to very well. He thought to himself: this is it, this is how it ends.

“You aren’t going to die, at least not in the next few days. How would you like to be rich, rich beyond your wildest dreams? I can make women fall at your feet, but I need your help. I rather enjoy being a law enforcement officer, especially a detective. Hand over your body to me for a period of time and when I give it back, you will be wealthy and have the life you’ve always dreamed of.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“My name is Samael. I spent some time with our friend Jimmy. Unfortunately, he was headstrong and didn’t listen to me as he should have. On the other hand, I believe we could become fast friends.”

“Friends? You are my imagination.”

“Hardly. I am an ancient creature. I feel a kinship to you. This is why I ask your permission and offer you the world. I can take control of your body and do what I wish, but it is so much easier on both of us if you just work with me. Will you work with me, Bert?”

“You aren’t my imagination?”

“Could your imagination do this?” Bert lost all control of his body: he felt his legs walking to the door, his hand turning the handle, his feet stepping out on the porch. A beautiful woman was walking toward his house on the sidewalk. Bert could see the scene playing out but could do nothing to control what was going on. He heard his voice call out to the lady, “Hello, Miss? Do you have a minute?”

The lady stopped in front of his gate. She glanced at her watch, looking as though she had somewhere more important to be. “Bert, I haven’t seen you around lately. The criminals must be keeping you busy these days.”

“I’m afraid so. There is something I need a woman’s opinion on. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure, but I don’t have the best taste if you need me to look at drapes.” She loped up to the porch while Bert’s body held the door open for her. She stepped into the little Cape Cod style house. Bert felt his hand close the door behind them. The young lady was one of Bert’s neighbors, Cynthia. She was, to put it bluntly, hot. Bert regularly saw her walking, biking or jogging around the neighborhood in tight pants and half shirts. He had noticed her lots of times but had never had the courage for anything more than a “hello” or a friendly wave. Bert was surprised that Cynthia was right here, in his entryway.

Bert stood mere inches away: Cynthia was absolutely breathtaking. Aside from her tight abs and hard frame, it looked like she might have had some work done; her breasts looked enormous. He caught himself looking at her lips, which were full and pouty. Bert wanted to touch them. Her long red hair was pulled back in a loose pony tail, and her face was absolutely perfect. Ice blue eyes stared at him when she asked, “So, what was it you needed my opinion on?”

She stood just a few feet inside the front door. Bert’s body took a step toward her, he felt his pulse racing. His hand reached for the elastic band holding her hair. His hand withdrew it from her long mane and stuffed the band in his pocket. He began stroking her hair and leaned into Cynthia’s body, gazing into her sky blue eyes. “Before I get your opinion, I must say your breasts are exquisite. They are truly a work of art. Are they nature’s bounty or man-made?” Bert’s free hand went to Cynthia’s breast and cupped it through her lycra half-tank top. “My dear, your surgeon is a genius.”

A look of surprise spread across her face, but she did nothing to stop his advances. “You are a sexy little vixen, aren’t you?” Bert felt his mouth move the few inches to Cynthia’s. Her lips were moist and her breath hot; her breathing quickly became erratic. Bert’s hand kneaded her breast as his lips pressed harder and his tongue found hers. His grip got stronger. Bert was sure he was hurting her but he was not in control and could do nothing to stop it. Cynthia let out a high pitched yelp followed by a long, low moan before his hand finally released.

Bert’s body remained rigid, and he felt his body’s weight thrust against her. She stumbled back