Ajda didn’t resist.
Had no desire to.
Whatever fear she had felt before had vanished along with her modesty, and she found the sensation of this stranger’s tongue to be quite exhilarating.
Something loosened inside of her, something wet and wonderful-a feeling that Ferid, with all of his fumbling, had never been able to awaken.
And as they sank together to the floor, hands roaming, fingers exploring, all Ajda could think about was the hunger she felt.
She wanted more.
Give me more.
BOOK II
I fled and cry’d out, Death!
Hell trembl’d at the hideous Name, and sigh’d
From all her Caves, and back resounded Death!
3
SAO PAULO, BRAZIL
Her screams were what told them she was in trouble.
Before that, Alejandro and the others had assumed that she’d merely wanted time alone, as she often did. And despite the danger, despite her utter carelessness, the moment the show was over, she had managed to slip away from them and disappear.
Some might have considered it a prima donna move. But Gabriela Zuada was no prima donna.
Alejandro knew this better than anyone.
After nearly a year as her personal manager, and three before that running Lar do Coracao-Gabriela’s Home of the Heart charity-he had never seen her throw a temper tantrum, had never seen her raise her voice in anger, had never seen her make a single reckless move that would lower her to the level of any of the flavor-of-the-week pop stars who had come and gone over the years.
But the woman liked her privacy. Especially after a performance. And Alejandro knew that the hordes of ravenous fans, the paparazzi, and all the trappings of superstardom sometimes got to be too much for her. So he had assumed, along with everyone else in Gabriela’s entourage, that this was why she had quietly disappeared.
He had only turned away for a moment, to make another phone call. One minute she was walking alongside him, the next she was gone. A trick she had perfected after several months of practice.
Alejandro couldn’t count the number of times he had patiently explained to her that she was not only a public figure, but a controversial one as well, and that she must stay with her bodyguards at all times.
But Gabriela rarely listened. She may not have been a prima donna, but she definitely had a mind of her own.
This was the last night of her Glory Revealed World Tour, and Gabriela had always liked to end with a show here in Sao Paulo. Had once said to Alejandro, back in the days when she had shared his bed, that home was the only place she truly felt safe.
“This is where God chose to put me on this earth,” she’d said as she snuggled up close, pressing a warm breast against his arm. “Where his angel watches over me.”
Alejandro had loved the feel of her skin against his. The rise and fall of her chest as she breathed into his ear. Missed it even now, all these months later.
They had both known that their affair was a sin, but had succumbed to temptation more than once-seventeen glorious times, to be precise-until the guilt had finally driven Gabriela to break it off.
“How can I preach chastity to young girls when I’m not chaste myself?”
It was a fair question. One that Alejandro couldn’t argue with.
But when he had broached the subject of marriage, Gabriela had scoffed. She had no time for such things. Not with the ministry finally taking off, not with all the work that had to be done.
She would only allow herself to be committed to the Lord and no one else. And she must serve as an example of purity in a world polluted by mankind’s weaknesses-especially now, when that world was quickly headed toward the oblivion of hell, when economies were failing and the streets were filled with so much anger and hate.
She had never seen such unrest, she’d told Alejandro. Several months ago, at a concert in Greece, a near riot had broken out for no other reason than someone mistakenly sat in the wrong seat. It had taken a plea from Gabriela herself to calm the crowd.
Shortly after that night, she had broken it off with Alejandro. She had somehow gotten it into her head that her growing lack of attention to her own faith had rubbed off on others, and the only way she could fight against the chaos was to renew her vow to the Father.
It was bad enough, she said, that she was forced to get up on that stage and shake her hips. Some in the church were appalled by her overtly sexual performances, but they couldn’t complain about the results. Gabriela had brought young people from all over the globe into the fold, and she considered a few pelvic thrusts a small compromise, as long as they never overshadowed the larger message in her music:
God is good.
God is great.
God is the light in a world of darkness.
Besides, who ever said children of the Lord couldn’t be sexual? Hadn’t He given them these urges for a reason? And maybe, just maybe, He approved.
But Gabriela had eventually drawn the line at continuing to sleep with Alejandro. As much as she’d loved their nights together-or so she had claimed-she could no longer allow herself to sin.
“So this is it,” she had said as she climbed atop him and guided him inside her for the very last time. “Tomorrow is a new beginning. Tomorrow I give myself to God and no one else.”
God is a lucky man, Alejandro had thought.
Then he’d closed his eyes and reveled in the feel of that thrusting pelvis against his, in the knowledge that he had tasted the sweetness that was Gabriela Zuada, a sweetness that had brought him such unbridled pleasure that he would remember it with exquisite clarity for the rest of his life.
And now, as he strode with a platoon of bodyguards, searching the maze of corridors backstage for the woman he loved-a maze that hadn’t seemed quite so confusing before this moment-Alejandro once again remembered that last sinful night, relishing his good fortune.
And despite being cut off from those amazing bodily treasures . . . the perfect breasts, the skilled hands, the rolling tongue, that dark, delicious hair . . . Despite the fact that Gabriela was nowhere to be found in this impossibly confusing place, a sense of calm washed over Alejandro and he felt at peace with the world.
Until the acrid smell of gasoline filled his nostrils, and Gabriela began to scream.
4
Ten minutes before those screams, Gabriela Zuada stood onstage with her bandmates, their hands locked together as they took their final bow.
The crowd was cheering, many of them on their feet, some even chanting, “Santa Gabriela, Santa Gabriela, Santa Gabriela . . .” as they showered the stage with flowers and candies.
Scooping up one of the flowers-a bloodred rose-Gabriela threw it into the air, then lifted her chin toward the rafters and shouted, “Gloria a Deus, nosso Pai!”
The crowd went wild, hands thrusting heavenward as they repeated her words in unison, over and over, tears streaming down their faces, tears full of joy and hope and the promise of salvation.
And in that moment, Gabriela-bone weary, drenched in sweat-thought:
They would do anything for you.
Anything at all.
Then the thought was gone, skittering away like a roach exposed to a kitchen light, and Gabriela felt a chill run through her.
Where had that come from?
How could she think such a horrible thing?