by Cynthia Eden
Never take her from me.
His climax hit him. The pleasure poured through his whole body as he stiffened. John held her tight, too tight, as the release burst from him. The pleasure seemed endless, wringing him out, blasting through every nerve and cell.
He stared into her eyes as he came. Saw the same wild pleasure in her gaze.
Slowly, so slowly, his heartbeat settled. He lowered her legs. Knew that he had to withdraw from her, but he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay inside of her—hell, forever would be good.
But he worried he’d hurt her. John slid out of her body, moving carefully, and then he rose from the bed. He padded to her bathroom and ditched the condom. He looked around, grabbed a cloth for her, and warmed it beneath the water. When he came back into the bedroom, Shelly had pulled the covers up over herself. He hesitated. Maybe she wanted him to go.
He didn’t exactly have a lot of knowledge about after-sex-etiquette, and for a moment, he floundered.
Take care of her.
He didn’t have memories. He just had his instincts, and John’s instincts pushed him across the room. He slid into bed beside her, slid his hands under the covers. Reached for her.
“John, wait, what are you—”
He carefully placed the warm cloth between her legs. “I’m sorry I was so rough.”
Her breath hitched. “Told you…I don’t mind.”
“I was desperate for you. Desperation came make a man wild.” He stared into her eyes. “I’ll be more in control next time.” He really hoped those words weren’t a lie.
She didn’t speak when he returned the cloth to the bathroom. Then he was back in the bedroom. And…
Maybe he was supposed to go downstairs. Go back to his guest room. Was that what a gentleman would do? He didn’t know if he’d ever been a gentleman, but Shelly mattered to him, and he just didn’t want to screw this up.
He turned for the door.
“You can stay, if you want.”
Her words were low, but they still pierced right through him. He immediately headed toward the bed, and he eased beneath the covers with her. His body was stiff, and yeah, his eager dick was already twitching again. Just being near her turned him on, so that was nothing new.
Shelly moved toward him, and her fingers slid over his chest. “You might not remember having sex before, but I’ve got to tell you…you’re really good at it.”
John laughed. The sound escaped him before he realized it. Deep, a bit too hard but, it felt good. Being with her felt good. No, being with her felt right. “Sweetheart,” he murmured as he picked up her hand and brought it to his mouth. His lips pressed to her knuckles. “You’re fucking fantastic.”
And she laughed, too. A soft chime that was absolutely beautiful. Her laugh made him feel warm. Made some of the darkness that clung to him ease a bit, and John realized…
This must be what it’s like to be happy.
He hadn’t been happy, not since he’d woken in that lab. He’d known pain, he’d known rage. But happiness? That had only come with Shelly.
She pressed closer to him. She snuggled against him. And he found himself putting his arm around her. She was warm and soft, and better than any dream he’d ever had.
“I don’t do this,” she whispered, and he could hear a faint slur in her husky words, as if she were just about to drift off to sleep.
“Do what?”
“Have sex with men that I’ve just met.”
But I’ve known you for a long time. The thought pushed, unbidden, through his mind. She’d said they’d never met, but he knew her so well. “Why did you have sex with me?” John asked quietly.
Silence. Her breathing was easier, deeper, but he didn’t think she’d slipped away to sleep, not yet. No, not just yet. “Shelly?”
“I wanted something good.” Her breath brushed over his shoulder.
“Baby…” I’m not good.
“I saw how you saved that mom and her son…and you’ve saved me…” Her lips pressed to his shoulder. “I think you’d make a really good hero, and I could use one of those.”
He sucked in a breath, but it felt cold in his lungs. He wasn’t a hero. He was some kind of monster. Didn’t she get that? He was a dead man who couldn’t stay dead. A man with no past. But she’d let him into her bed. She’d let him into her body. And she was holding him as she slipped off to sleep. So trusting. So open.
His hold tightened on her. She was wrong about him, very wrong, but there was no way he could give her up. He needed her far too much.
***
“Watch her. Day and night. Do you understand me?”
John gazed out at the city below him. The lights were bright, shining in the darkness. The city was so fucking busy. Sometimes, he just wanted to escape the city. Escape his whole life. There was so much death and danger around him. Always had been.
“She doesn’t make a move without you knowing, got it?”
He rolled back his shoulders. Felt the reassuring weight of his gun in the holster beneath his arm.
“This is the target.”
He turned away from the window. John had a fast impression of a fancy office. Heavy, wooden furniture. Leather couch. Then he was staring at a photograph.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. She was. All of that long, dark hair. Those gorgeous, fuck-me eyes. Deep and mysterious.
“Hunt her. Keep her in your sights at all times. And when it’s time to act, I’ll let you know.”
He took the photo. “What’s her name?” This new prey of his, who was she?
“Shelly. She’s—”
***
John jerked upright, the images—memories?—fading from his mind. His breath heaved in and out of his lungs as he cast a quick glance at Shelly.
Still sleeping.
He slipped from the bed and rubbed a hard hand over his jaw. What in the hell had just happened? For a time there, he’d been back in some office, hearing some guy’s voice so clearly, and then seeing Shelly’s face.
Hunt her. Keep her in your sights at all times.
It had all been so clear. He paced to the window, pushing aside the curtains to stare into the darkness outside and then—
A faint flash of light. There one moment, gone the next, but that flash was all he needed to send his instincts into overdrive. He stared into the dark, and he let his senses rip wide open. He’d been trained at the lab—trained by the folks in the white coats to use his enhanced senses. They’d taught him how to tone down his senses when necessary so that all of the sounds and scents and smells didn’t overwhelm him. But they’d also taught him how to use his newly acquired bonuses to his advantage.
He ramped up his power right then, and he heard…
The shuffle of steps.
Someone was out there. Watching the cabin. Watching Shelly.
Without any hesitation, John grabbed his jeans. He yanked them on and then he was running out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and bursting out of her front door. A light dusting of snow fell on him as he raced outside.
Chapter Seven
The cold woke her. Shelly’s fingers slid across the pillow next to her, and she realized that John was gone. Her eyes opened as she sat up, pulling the covers with her. “John?”
The cabin felt…still. Quiet. Too quiet.
She glanced around the room, but saw no sign of him. Had he gone back down to his room? Maybe he’d been uncomfortable staying with her. She shouldn’t have asked him, but she’d just felt so close to him. And she hadn’t wanted that closeness to end.
She eased from the bed. Grabbed a terry cloth robe and wrapped it around her body. Shelly found herself creeping out of her room and tip-toeing down the stairs. The cabin’s lower level was just as eerily silent as the upstairs area had been and when she glanced in John’s room—empty.
A shiver slid over her body. “John?” Her voice cracked a little so she cleared her throat and tried again. “John?”
There was no answer.
She headed toward the cabin’s front door and her bare feet touched a bit of cold water. Water? No, not water. Melted snow.
Because John wasn’t in the cabin. Her hand pressed to the wooden door as fear surged inside of her. He’d slipped away into the night.
***
He kept his body concealed as he hunted, and John made absolutely certain not to make a sound. He’d spotted his prey, caught him in the woods near Shelly’s cabin. And he wasn’t going to let the bastard escape. The fool wouldn’t get off another shot. Not at him.
Not at her.
When he was close enough, John launched his body into the air. John hit his target, taking the guy down, slamming the fellow into the snow. He pinned the jerk beneath him, and John’s fist rushed toward the SOB’s face.
“Stop! Shit, it’s me!” Sheriff Blane Gallows yelled.
His fist froze, but only for a moment. The sheriff’s heart was racing in a triple-time rhythm, the guy’s voice was cracking, and John could have sworn he smelled the man’s fear. “You were in the theater. You were in the spot where the shooter took aim—”
He should have seen the truth then, John realized.
“I’m not the shooter!” Blane snarled at him. And he took a swing at John.
John dodged it, and he pounded his fist into Blane’s face. Once, twice.
“Stop! That’s—that’s assaulting an officer!” Blane was trying to fight back, but the man was one weak-ass fighter.
John dragged the guy to his feet. Held him with one hand fisted in the sheriff’s coat. John could see his prey perfectly in the night.
“You’re not even wearing clothes,” Blane snarled as blood dripped from his busted lip. “What in the hell is wrong with you?”
John was wearing clothes—jeans. He hadn’t bothered with anything else because he hadn’t wanted to let his prey get away. “You won’t hurt Shelly.” He’d kill the fellow first.
Blane’s eyes doubled in size. “You really think I’m the bad guy here?” His fingers were creeping toward his holster.
In less time than it took to exhale, John had snatched the gun from Blane. He aimed it at the sheriff. “You’re outside her cabin in the middle of the night. I saw your light from her bedroom window—”
“’Cause I was using my phone to check the time. I had the first shift, and I was looking to see when my relief would arrive.” Blane had his hands up in the air, but his face was twisted with fury. “After everything that happened, I ordered a protection detail on Shelly. I wanted eyes on the cabin. Eyes on her. I wanted her safe, got it? That’s why I’m out here. I’m not out here to hurt her. Shit, I love that girl.”
John’s hold on the gun tightened.
“I love her like family,” Blane stressed. “So just calm your ass down, buddy. I’m here to keep her safe, not to hurt her. She’s been hurt more than enough.”
There was a heavy tension in Blane’s words, and the sheriff’s heart was still racing far too fast. John didn’t take his gaze off the other man. “You should have told us that you were going to be watching the cabin.”
Blane’s chin notched into the air.
And John understood. “You didn’t say anything because you don’t trust me.”
“Hell, no, I don’t trust you. You come into town, and then Shelly is suddenly in danger. One plus one equals trouble, asshole.” Blane lowered his hands. “And I got to say, I’m not even convinced Shelly is the target. Maybe this shooter—maybe he’s after you, not her.”
John kept the weapon locked on the sheriff. “Her brakes were sabotaged.”
“No, the brakes were just worn. It was a rental car, and it didn’t exactly have the best maintenance. Shit like that happens. It shouldn’t, but it does. This mystery shooter out there—maybe he’s gunning for you. Maybe it’s been you all along, and every moment that you stay with Shelly, that’s a moment that you’re putting her in danger.”
No, no, that couldn’t be true, could it? John glanced back toward the cabin. He’d left Shelly alone because he’d thought her attacker was in the woods. “I need to get back to her.”
“Asshole, you just assaulted a sheriff! The only place you’re going is jail.”
John gave a low laugh. “I’d really like to see you try and arrest me.”
As if he’d been waiting for just those words, Blane gave a snarl, and he lunged for John. But John just stepped away—very, very quickly. So quickly that he knew he’d look like a blur. Blane missed him and slammed fast-first into the snow.
Blane spat snow from his mouth and lifted his head. He stared at John with stunned eyes. “What in the hell are you?”
John rolled back his shoulders. “I’m an enemy you don’t want.” And he needed to get back to Shelly. “You don’t need to keep eyes on the cabin. If anyone gets too close—the way you did tonight—I’ll know.” He turned on his heel and began heading back to the cabin.
“Humans can’t move the way you do!” Blane bellowed after him. “And I know you were shot the first night with Shelly! I saw the pool of blood on the ground. You shouldn’t have been able to heal. You shouldn’t have been walking around the next day like it was nothing.”
John glanced back at the sheriff.
Blane was on his feet, glaring after him. “I’m asking again, what are you?”
“I’m the man who is going to stand between Shelly and any threat that is out there.”
The sheriff brushed snow off his chest. “What if you are the threat to her? What then?”
John didn’t answer the guy. He’d already been away from Shelly for too long.
“I’m coming after you!” Blane bellowed. “Your ass is going to jail! Do you hear me?”
Yeah, he heard the guy. But John took off, running back through the woods, rushing toward the cabin. His instincts were screaming at him. Telling him there was danger around him. But he couldn’t locate anyone else in those woods. He didn’t sense anyone else.
But trouble was close. Trouble was coming.
The cabin appeared before him. He bounded up the steps and just as he was about to pound on the door, it swung open. Shelly stood there, wearing a robe, her hair tousled around her shoulders.
“John? When I woke up and you were gone…” She grabbed him and pulled him into the cabin. “Why the hell were you gone? And why—” Her words cut off. “Why are you holding a gun?”
Because he’d taken the sheriff’s gun. He put it on the table and kicked the door shut. Locked it.
“You don’t have on a shirt.” Shelly’s voice rose. “Or shoes. And it’s freezing out there. You need—”
“I just beat up your sheriff.”
She blinked. “Say that again.”
“I beat up the sheriff. He’s probably making his way to his car, calling for back-up, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to haul me off to jail for the rest of the night.”
Her lips had parted in shock, but the shock only seemed to last a moment before she snapped her mouth shut and gave a hard, negative shake of her head.
“Yes.” Blane wasn’t just going to let this go. “He was watching your cabin. I thought he might be the shooter.”
“It was just a mistake. You didn’t know—”
“I punched him after I knew.” And he’d taken the guy’s gun.
Now her eyes were even wider. “John?”
His hand cupped her cheek. “A jail cell won’t keep me away from you for long.” Normal cells weren’t designed to hold someone like him. The sheriff realized John was different. The sheriff was afraid of him. Good. Blane should be afraid.
“I’ll talk to Blane,” Shelly promised him. “I’ll convince him to back off. We’re old friends. He’ll listen to me. He’ll—”
“You care about him.” And Blane had said he loved her.
“We’re friends. Have been for a very long time.”
In the distance, John could hear the growl of the sheriff’s engine. He’d come to recognize that sound. The sheriff would be at their door s
oon. “I don’t want to leave you unprotected. You can’t stay at the cabin by yourself. Get Blane to put you in a safe house.”
“You are not going to jail!”
He was. The growling engine was even closer. “Blane thinks that I might be the one putting you in danger. That it’s my fault.”
“What?”
“He thinks I’m the target, not you.” And if the guy was right, then staying close to her put Shelly in the most danger. The sheriff’s cruiser was right outside. Blane had come fast.
“No. This isn’t happening.”
John could hear the rush of footsteps, and then a fist pounded against the front door.
“Shelly!” Blane blasted. “Shelly, let me in!”
John’s hand slipped away from her cheek. “You heard the man.”
She didn’t move. “And you’d better hear me.” Her eyes gleamed up at him. “I’m not letting you get tossed in jail.” Then she skirted around him and yanked open the door.
The light spilled onto Blane’s furious face. His lip was swollen and still bleeding, and a bruise marked his jaw. He pointed to John. “You’re under arrest, Smith.”
Shelly caught Blane’s hand, lowered it. “He thought you were a threat to me.”
“Bullshit. He knew I was the sheriff. He knew exactly who he was attacking, and the jerk stole my gun!”
Shelly winced. She slid away from Blane, grabbed the gun, and offered it back to the sheriff. “Here. It’s not stolen. It was…borrowed.”
John crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn’t going to lie. “I stole it. I don’t trust the guy so I wasn’t leaving him with a gun while my back was turned.”
Blane bared his teeth at John. “And I don’t trust you. You’re the guy who is supposed to be dead. The guy who was supposed to have been shot in the back on that mountain road.” He holstered his weapon. “You move too fast. Your reflexes are too good. You’re too strong. You’re some kind of supernatural freak, and I don’t want you anywhere near Shelly.”
Supernatural freak.
“Blane, stop it.” Shelly’s words were sharp. She strode to stand beside John. “We all need to calm down.”