Winter's Fire (Club Aegis Book 5)

by Christie Adams

  The sight that greeted him was a kick in the balls that almost rendered him speechless.

  Her pace was slowing to a jog, a walk, and then a standstill, right there in front of him, and by the look of it, she wasn’t even remotely out of breath. It certainly didn’t impede her ability to start a conversation.

  “What have we stopped for? Something wrong?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “Is this the best you can do, then?” She folded her arms and cocked a hip, her stance full of impudence and challenge.

  There was more to the brat than met the eye. A sense of unease whispered at the back of Logan’s mind, giving voice to the suspicion that he might have underestimated her.

  That made her dangerous enough, but what gave him even greater cause for concern was the way she was attacking his defences with such apparent ease. He’d long since locked the door on the kind of interest in a woman now jolting to unsteady life because of her. Locked it, thrown the bolt across it, nailed it shut and turned his back on it, yet ever since he’d met her, in spite of his best efforts to the contrary, he’d been thinking things he had no right to think… feeling things he had no right to feel.

  “How about if we find out the best you can do?”

  And with that, he turned and sprinted away, as if every beast from the depths of hell were hunting his immortal soul.

  They returned to the apartment after almost an hour of pounding the streets. Logan unlocked the door and pushed it open, standing back to allow Lucy to enter first.

  “So how come you run like a pro?”

  He wanted to be annoyed by the fact that she looked as if she’d done nothing more strenuous than take an easy jog around the park or done a light workout in the gym, but he could find only admiration for her level of fitness and the dedication required not only to achieve it, but maintain it. The only sign of exertion was her slightly elevated respiration, her glistening face, and the few wisps of hair that had escaped from her ponytail and clung to her glowing skin.

  In spite of himself, Logan couldn’t help but find it refreshing that she wasn’t fussing over her appearance, either. He’d spent way too much time around women who were preoccupied with the way they looked, and who didn’t listen. Lucy listened, and had proved it by preceding him into the apartment.

  “Just because I work behind a desk, it doesn’t mean I live behind one. I was brought up on a farm, and spent most of my childhood outdoors, not in front of a computer. I still go home whenever I can, because the city drives me nuts occasionally. Thing is, my brother Adam’s in the Army, and he’s taught me a thing or two when it comes to physical fitness.”

  Logan wondered exactly what “a thing or two” encompassed. Her level of fitness clearly exceeded the average, and as she shrugged out of her jacket, he took a renewed interest in assessing her overall muscle tone.

  From an objective point of view, it was good to know she took care of herself, in case they needed to move anywhere fast.

  From a subjective point of view, it was a whole new shitload of turn-on he didn’t need.

  “He’s a good teacher. Why don’t you hit the shower, and I’ll make you some tea?” Anything to get his mind off her body.

  For a second she looked at him as if he’d grown another head. “That would be lovely—if you’re sure?”

  “I’m sure. Go.”

  “Thank you.”

  Her glacier-melting smile wasn’t the only attribute that snagged his attention as she sashayed out of the room. Her hips would be fucking perfect in his hands, and his body agreed. Logan gritted his teeth. Okay, less perfection, more tea-making, and absolutely no imagining. He didn’t need to conjure up pictures of bubbles sliding over silky skin, alluring curves and taut muscles, or elegant, feminine hands washing and rinsing that glorious cascade of hair.

  He didn’t need to think of being in there with her, either, cupping her breasts in his palms so he could play with her nipples, nudging her thighs apart, and—

  Somebody shoot me, please.

  Tempted though he was to dunk his head in a sink full of cold water, Logan decided to wait for the full-body experience under the shower. Instead he took his mind off what was in danger of becoming a perpetual state of arousal by making the drink he’d promised Lucy.

  The quietness of the small hours crowded in on him, smothering him in the claustrophobic blanket of an alternative reality, one where he didn’t have blood on his hands, where he could still have it all. Years ago, with the typical brashness of youth and inexperience, he hadn’t given any thought to settling down with one special woman—that was strictly for the birds, why would he want to turn his back on the steady stream of women who wanted to fuck a Royal?

  Then he’d seen friends blown apart, young women made widows before they’d barely finished being brides, and his priorities had shifted. His interest in shallow liaisons had waned almost overnight, and dating became an expedition in search of what he most desired in a life partner. He thought he’d found his soul mate in Sophia, and then his world had come crashing down around his head when he’d returned from that deployment and found her in the bathroom at their apartment, a sight he’d never forget.

  And then, in a monumental display of ego and selfishness, with Sophia barely cold in her grave, he’d gone on to invite himself into her sister’s bed, only to break up with her weeks later. He wasn’t proud of the brutal, clumsy way he’d ended that relationship.

  And now there was Lucy. He smelled her before he heard her, that light floral scent drawing him out of the dark abyss of the past. He turned and there she stood, fresh and shining and all the pure things he’d never deserve for as long as he lived—a punishment for past sins and a warning for all time to come.

  A few choice curses tumbled through his mind. He should have switched the main light on, used its cold, clinical glare to hold back the ebb and flow of intimacy. In the subtle, warming embrace of the wall lights, Lucy was living, breathing temptation in its purest, impure form. Without lifting a finger, without saying a word, she walked through his shields as if they didn’t exist.

  “Your tea’s ready.” The words belly-crawled over broken glass as he slid the mug across the counter towards her. He couldn’t stay, didn’t dare, not with this toxic cocktail of need and want and self-hatred churning him up inside. He was weak, just a man—if he stayed around her like this, he’d only want more of her softness. He’d want more of her mouth, more of her breasts crushed against him, and more of the peace she unknowingly took with one hand but, he was certain, could give him back a thousandfold with the other.

  Which he didn’t deserve—not now, not ever.

  “Thank you. Aren’t you having something?”

  “I’m going to clean up. Go to bed when you’re ready, but don’t be too late—we need to make an early start tomorrow.”

  She sipped her tea. Her gaze sparkled at him over the rim of the mug, holding a smile that promised trouble for any Dom—or would, if she were really a sub. Trouble for him, at any rate, the kind he didn’t need.

  “Logan, it’s almost 3 a.m. My alarm’s set to go off in around three hours. Part of me wonders if it’s worth it.”

  He’d run missions on less, and learned to grab sleep whenever he could—three whole hours was mind-blowing luxury. “Trust me, it’s worth it. Never underestimate the value of sleeping and eating—in the field, you do both whenever you can.”

  He didn’t insult her by waiting to make sure she did head for bed—she wasn’t a child in need of constant adult supervision, and he wasn’t going to start treating her like one now. Besides, if he didn’t get the hell away from her and regroup, he was going to do something that would add about another thousand feet to his personal mountain of regret.

  When he emerged from the bathroom a short time later, there was no sign of her. Logan let out a long, slow breath. What a hell of a fucked-up day. Grabbing a glass of water, he retreated to his own room and dropped onto the bed.

  Th
e irony of his situation almost had him laughing out loud. Going for that run was supposed to help him sleep, but now he was more keyed up than ever. The source of his tension remained on the other side of the wall, but now there was a new ingredient in the mix. His view of Lucy had changed. She was no longer a necessary encumbrance for the sake of his cover, she was…

  Logan dismissed the rebellious thoughts clawing their way out of the pit into which he’d thrown every desire for anything more than a service relationship with a sub. Those thoughts had no place in this mission—theirs was a working relationship, and that was all.

  What he couldn’t afford to do, for his own sake and Lucy’s, and the sake of the mission, was give in to the weakness lurking inside the ashes of the life he’d once had. Except the short time he’d spent with Lucy had swept away those ashes, and in their place a new fire was smouldering, one that could easily become an inferno of lust if he lost control.

  He couldn’t allow that to happen. Lucy was the kind of woman who deserved emotional commitment as well as physical pleasure.

  What she deserved most of all, though, was the kind of future he’d forfeited his right to when Sophia had killed herself because of him.

  Chapter 7

  “We have a lot of ground to cover before we leave. We’ve made a good start, but we need to look at undercover work. I thought we could tackle that today.”

  Lucy scooped up the last spoonful of breakfast cereal. Considering she’d had so little sleep, she felt surprisingly alert. “Is there a website for that, too?”

  She hoped not. Having spent so much time on the computer for her BDSM research, she was ready for a change of scenery. One more session online, and she was sure her brain would dribble out of her nose and go permanently AWOL.

  Logan gave her what she’d come to think of as his Dom look—not for the first time that morning—and skewered another forkful of bacon and scrambled eggs. For whatever reason, he’d been in a dark mood since she’d first laid eyes on him about an hour ago. He hadn’t actually behaved in an obnoxious manner towards her—if anything, he’d been stiffly polite. So much for the breakthrough she’d hoped their night-time run might have brought about.

  She just about managed not to roll her eyes. “Is there a website for that, too, Sir?”

  “There’s probably several, but I’m not risking you finding some idiot wannabe amateur’s best guess and assuming it’s true. Don’t get your knickers in a twist—we’re going to make it as easy for you as we can. We’re working up a new identity for you right now.”

  This was the first Lucy had heard on the subject. “Why? I mean, what about my passport? How’s that going to work?”

  “You’ll have a new one for the duration of our trip. The name’s close to your real name, and her past will for the most part mirror yours.”

  “What about you?”

  Breakfast finished, Logan pushed his plate to one side and took a healthy swig of coffee strong enough to dissolve a teaspoon. “I already have a legend.”

  A legend was a false identity. All the unit’s field officers had at least one as part of their standard toolkit. “Is it really necessary? What if I get your name wrong and someone overhears?”

  “Legends are usually close to your real name for that reason. As for being necessary, we won’t know for certain until we get there, and if we haven’t taken that precaution, it’s too late by then.”

  He had a point. “So what should I call you? And from what you said, you already have a name for me. Who am I going to be?”

  “For this assignment, I’m Lucan Simpson, but at the resort, it might be easier just to use ‘Sir’. No one’ll think anything odd about it there.”

  Which she was already calling him—when she remembered, at any rate. Lucy managed a small, wry smile. “I guess I’d better start getting used to calling you that more often then, Sir.”

  Maybe it was wishful thinking on her part, but his expression seemed to relax a little.

  “It’ll be okay, Lucy. It’s just a precaution. And if you do accidentally call me Logan, it’s close enough to Lucan for most people to assume they misheard.”

  “I’ll do my best.” She gave a little chuckle. “It seems to me that you might have a harder job remembering whatever they’ve christened me. Not much sounds like Lucy.”

  And now he was smiling. Thinking of all the times she’d seen him sporting an angry scowl at worst and a neutral brick wall of an expression at best, Lucy decided he should smile more often. Apart from anything else, it made him look more human and less like some sort of emotionally detached robot.

  “It’s Lisa. Lisa White.”

  Lisa. Lucy. Lucy wrinkled her nose. She didn’t exactly feel like a Lisa. “Sounds weird. We really have to use false names, Sir?”

  “We don’t know what we’re walking into—we have to be prepared for a worst-case scenario.”

  “Which is?”

  “If there’s some sort of illegal activity going on. If it’s illegal enough, it could get us killed, although I think that’s unlikely.”

  “Remind me never to come to you when I need cheering up!”

  Okay, so her off-the-cuff remark was flippant rather than humorous, but the last thing Lucy expected was for the storm clouds to descend over Logan’s face once more, and in the process send a frozen dagger through her chest.

  “That’s just it… Lisa. As my submissive, you come to me with any problems you might have. It’s my job to take care of you.”

  Her hackles went up. “Is that Logan or Lucan talking?”

  “Both.”

  There was no way in hell Lucy could maintain eye contact, not with him looking so grim and determined. All of a sudden, she was way out of her depth, floundering in a sea of uncertainty as if the boundaries between real life and the roles they were assuming had blinked out of existence.

  “Are you all right?”

  The gentle enquiry enabled her to look at him again. The concern in his tone was mirrored in his face—almost as if he really cared.

  “You look confused.”

  Finally she found her voice. “That’s because I am. You… We…”

  “Use your words, Lucy.”

  Use her words? She was teetering on the edge of confessing her thoughts on exchanging their sham relationship for a real one, but with the man there in front of her, she was more apprehensive than ever.

  No, regardless of what he’d just said, there was no way she was ready to open up to him and say it—We have to fake a relationship, but why don’t we have one for real, because I’m intrigued by the idea of submitting to you, and I want to experience it for real?

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Do you want to revise that answer?”

  Over her dead and decaying corpse. “No.”

  “Fine. Now that we’ve agreed your limits, you’ve just earned yourself a punishment for lack of communication.”

  “What?” The screech sounded harsh, even to her own ears.

  “Do I need to remind you? You agreed to discipline when we put the contract in place.”

  They’d discussed the contract while strolling around the park, and put it together when they returned to Logan’s apartment. Her agreement was in her signature, right next to Logan’s.

  “But… why?”

  “I told you. Communication. You have to learn how important clear communication is. It’s vital in this lifestyle.”

  She lashed out without thinking, more angry with herself than anything else. “I know that! I read all about it!”

  “And I think now would be a good time to mention you’ve doubled it for challenging me. Submission 101—you trust your Dom to take care of you. That means you trust me to train you for this mission. In my bedroom now, and strip down to your underwear—and if you say one more word that isn’t ‘yes’ followed by ‘Sir’, you’ll treble it.”

  Her knickers dissolved. How in the name of heaven could the knowledge that she was about to be spanked tur
n her on instantly? Lucy tried to remind herself that this man was the annoying, uncooperative arsehole from the office, and failed miserably. He wasn’t even the man whose kisses had made her want more—this was an implacable Dom who demanded obedience, and now she was going to pay the price for her insubordination.

  The strangest thing happened. Somewhere, in the chaotic mass of her thoughts and feelings, clarity staked a claim. She might not be ready to vocalise her suggestion to change to a genuine relationship, but she was ready to act on it, even if Logan remained unaware of her true motivation.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Judging by the way he then ignored her, in favour of picking up his coffee mug and the newspaper he’d set to one side before breakfast, he expected her to do as she was told.

  Lucy lifted her chin and headed for her Dom’s bedroom. Anxiety gyrated like a crazed acrobat in her stomach. At the door, she glanced back at Logan. His relaxed posture—reading the paper, mug in hand—confirmed his expectations remained unchanged.

  Unsure whether to close the door or not, she left it a little ajar. With uncharacteristically clumsy fingers, she grasped the hem of her top, pulled it over her head and tossed it to one side. About to unfasten the button of her jeans, she looked again at the untidy heap on the floor of this immaculately tidy room. Her brothers, to a man, were obsessive about keeping things neat, and it looked as if Logan was the same. Had to be a military thing. Lucy swept up her top and folded it quickly, her jeans too. No sense in risking further punishment for sloppy housekeeping.

  With nothing else to do but wait, Lucy sank to her knees, facing the door. Spine ramrod-straight, she rested her hands palm-up on her thighs and lowered her gaze while keeping her head straight and level. Submissive but not cowed.

  The door swung open, arcing through the periphery of her field of vision, followed by long legs encased in black jeans, and boots that were plain and well-worn but clearly of quality.

  “Well done, princess. Now stand up for me.”

  With as much grace as she could muster, Lucy obeyed. As Logan circled her, without speaking to her or touching her, the vestiges of her inner conflict fell silent, no match for the sense of serene certainty emanating from the powerful man into whose hands she’d placed herself.