by Cynthia Eden
He pulled out the small drive. “You want to see what happened? Then pull up a chair. Let’s both take a real, up-close look.”
Her lips parted. “What is that?”
It was him, spying on his brother. Him, crossing a line that he knew Jay wouldn’t forgive. But sometimes, it wasn’t about forgiveness. Sometimes, it was just about making sure those who mattered most kept their asses alive. “I’m his head of security. So whether he likes it or not, I’m keeping my brother safe.” And under surveillance. “Let’s just see what the hell went down.”
***
Carefully, Jay lowered Willow onto his bed. He wanted to hold her, too tight and too hard, so he made himself step back. He headed toward the window, pulled open the blinds, and let the first streaks of sunlight trickle inside.
“You can sleep in here,” he told her. “There’s no confinement. We’re going to work this out.” If he said the words enough, maybe they’d be true. Maybe he could fix everything for her.
He wanted that.
Jay turned toward the door.
“Will you stay with me?” Her soft voice stopped him. “Just for a little while?”
He’d stay with her forever. That stark truth settled inside of him as he squared his shoulders. “Of course.” He headed back toward the bed. He ditched his shoes and socks, but kept on his jeans and t-shirt. She slid over, and he climbed into the bed with her. “Do you want to change?” Jay asked her. “Do you want—”
“You.”
He stilled. “Baby…”
“Will it ever be like it was before?” Willow’s voice was so low. “When we made love and there was no holding back. No doubts. Will it ever be that way again? Or will you look at me and always wonder, is she going to snap? Is this going to be the moment when she loses it?”
“Stop.” Anger hummed in his voice. “I don’t wonder that.”
“Maybe you should.”
Jay shook his head. “I want you just the same. The same way I’ve wanted you since the beginning.” He leaned over her, needing Willow to absolutely understand this. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else. And I’d fucking walk through hell to have you.”
He heard her breath catch.
“Want me to prove it?” He pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was hot, rough, his tongue dipping into her mouth and tasting her. Adrenaline still spiked through his body. Adrenaline. Fear. Rage.
The fear was the worst—the fear that he might lose her.
I won’t.
“Prove it,” she whispered, dared, as her fingers curled over his shoulders.
He knew this time would be different. Not slow and tender. No gentle caresses. His control was far too brittle for that. He stripped her, yanking off her clothes. Tossing them aside. Nearly shredding her panties.
He’d buy her more.
He jerked off his own shirt. Kicked out of his jeans. His hand went between her legs, and he pushed two fingers inside of her. She wasn’t ready, not yet, and he needed her to be. He needed her wild.
He worked her clit. Kissed her breasts. Sucked her nipples. Used the edge of his teeth on her until she was moaning for him. Twisting beneath him.
Then he yanked on a condom. Drove into her. Deep and hard, and there was no stopping, not for either of them. This was basic. This was primitive. He needed her as much as he needed breath.
Her legs locked around him. Her body arched toward him. She came, and the contractions of her delicate inner muscles slid along the length of his cock, driving him over the edge so that he erupted into her. The climax twisted through him and seemed to obliterate everything else. She was all he knew.
All he wanted.
She was his.
He pulled her close. Tucked her into his body.
She was his. And he’d fight the world to keep her.
Her breathing slowly evened out. Her body went lax against him. Jay still didn’t move, not yet. He found that he liked holding her.
I was burning. Her words slid through his mind.
His lips feathered over her temple. He’d make sure she never burned again. He kept holding her, needing to be close a moment longer, then he carefully slipped away.
Jay had work to do.
***
“See anything interesting?” Jay drawled.
West and Cecelia both flinched at his words. And then they looked guilty as hell. They were leaning over his computer. Both intent on watching the screen. He knew why, of course. Did his brother really think he didn’t know everything that was in his own study?
“Where’s Willow?” West asked as he cast a nervous glance behind Jay.
“Sleeping.” He yanked his t-shirt over his head, then tugged it down to his waist. He’d put on his jeans before heading down the stairs. “She needs to rest.” They all did. But first… “I’m guessing you two were watching the video?”
Red tinged Cecelia’s cheeks.
“Video?” West repeated. “What video?”
Jay rolled his eyes. West’s poker face sucked. “The video from the surveillance camera you put in here. Don’t play games. I’m really not in the mood for them.” He headed around the desk. Only West knew his password, and maybe it was time to change that situation. But for the moment…
Jay peered at the screen on the left. Saw the still image. West must have paused the playback when Jay entered the room. “Did you really think I didn’t know you’d stuck the camera in here? I mean, come on, it was my tech.”
“You didn’t say anything,” West muttered.
A shrug was Jay’s answer. “How many times have you two already watched the video?”
“A few,” came Cecelia’s quick response. “And you’re right. Wyman was using a trigger phrase for her. ‘Time for you to bloom.’”
Jay rewound the video. Went back to the moment when Willow was standing in the doorway. “You had good placement for the camera.” She looked lost. Afraid. He played the video, and when he did, he saw Willow’s face completely change when Wyman gave the trigger phrase.
In nearly a blink of time, she was across the room. On top of Jay.
“You could have tried fighting, man,” West groused.
“No, I couldn’t. I wasn’t going to hurt her.” Silence. He looked up and found West’s gaze on him. “What?”
“Just realizing I’ve missed a few things, that’s all.” West’s lips twisted. “At least she stopped.” He motioned to the image. “You can see her expression change, right here. Cecelia and I were trying to figure out what stopped her, if you whispered something to her, if you did something—”
“She did something.” Jay rolled back his shoulders. “She broke through the guy’s power. He wanted her to fight me, but she didn’t. She had more control than he thought.” Jay’s hard stare swept both Cecelia and West. “And that’s why we aren’t locking her up. She stopped. She fought him.”
“Uh, yeah, but are you forgetting the part where she later went batshit on the porch and tried to take everyone out?”
Jay’s hand rose to rub against his chest. “If he’s her father, then it makes sense.”
West backed up a step. “Hold on, did you just say Wyman was her old man?”
Right. He hadn’t exactly filled West in on that part, not yet.
Jay glanced toward the study door. He almost expected to see Willow standing there, her expression lost. Scared. But she wasn’t there. She was in his bed. Safe.
Willow was safe.
So why did he have the feeling something bad was happening to her? He cleared his throat and turned toward his brother, “Let me tell you what I know.”
***
Willow opened her eyes. Sunlight filled the room, and soft covers were pulled over her body. She turned in the bed, reaching out—and touching Jay.
He was beside her. Warm. Strong.
A smile curved her lips, and her gaze met his. She loved his eyes. Loved the way that he looked at her.
But then his gaze flickered. Pain f
lashed on his handsome face. Pain. Horror. Fear.
“Willow?”
And the bed covers…the white bed covers were turning red. She shoved them out of the way and saw that he was bleeding. Stab wounds covered his stomach and chest. She started screaming. Screaming because this couldn’t be happening.
Then Willow realized that she was holding a bloody knife.
Chapter Twelve
The bedroom door flew open.
Willow blinked, shook her head, and found herself staring at Cecelia. Flynn Haddox was right behind the shrink. Of course, Flynn was always close to Cecelia.
He loved her.
“I’m sorry,” Willow whispered. “Help him.”
“Help who, Willow?” Cecelia asked her softly.
Willow’s gaze swung down, back to Jay, only…Jay wasn’t there. The covers were white again. Jay was gone, and she didn’t have a knife in her hand.
I’m losing my mind.
“Willow?” Cecelia crept closer to her. “Tell me what’s happening.”
Her heart was about to jump out of her chest. “Jay.”
“Jay went to the hospital.” It was Flynn who answered. Flynn who’d just put his body protectively in front of Cecelia’s. “He needed to question Wyman. He’ll be back soon.”
Willow wrapped the covers around her body. “Jay isn’t dead?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
“No.” Flynn frowned at her. “Why would you think that?”
Because she’d just seen him die. Right there, in the bed with her. Her gaze darted to the window. “Something is wrong.”
“It’s okay, Willow,” Flynn assured her quickly. “Jay is just fine.”
She shook her head. “Something is wrong with me.” Her stare slid back to him. Flynn would understand. He was like her, after all. “My mind isn’t working right. I keep having flashes, seeing things that aren’t there.”
“You had a nightmare.” That was Cecelia. Sympathetic. Warm. “Everyone has those. Nightmares are normal.”
But Flynn’s gaze had hardened. He knew nightmares for Lazarus subjects weren’t like bad dreams for regular people. They weren’t like normal people.
“I think I’m going to hurt him,” Willow confessed. She could still smell the coppery odor of the blood. Feel the knife. “And it wasn’t a nightmare.” It had been too real. She’d seen the blood. Seen Jay dying. She rose from the bed. Hurried into the bathroom and changed into fresh clothes. She didn’t look at her reflection. Willow couldn’t do it.
When she went back into the bedroom, Cecelia and Flynn were still there.
Flynn…hadn’t she attacked him the night before? The memory was foggy. Distorted. “Maybe I was kept away from the others because I was the threat.” Her arms wrapped around her stomach.
Cecelia padded closer to her, and Flynn was right beside his mate.
Mate. Such a primitive word. But that’s what the test subjects were all about. Primitive responses. Primitive instincts. Willow certainly felt a powerful instinct right then—to flee. “I can’t hurt Jay.”
“Willow, we need to talk things through.” Cecelia’s voice was mild. Her shrink voice. “You know I said I’d help you, and I will. We can deal with what’s happening—”
“I made love with Jay.”
Cecelia cleared her throat. A faint smile curled her lips as she glanced at the bed. “Yes, I sort of figured that out—”
“I’ve had dreams of a man telling me that we belonged together. A man who said he wasn’t letting me go.” Her temples ached as she thought of him. “I couldn’t see him. Not clearly. Was that someone from my past?”
“Willow—”
“Then I just had a vision of myself, killing Jay. We were in bed together, and I killed him.”
Sympathy flashed on Cecelia’s face. “You aren’t going to kill him. Jay trusts you.” That was the problem. Now her stare slid to Flynn’s. He would understand. “Maybe he shouldn’t.” Her tongue swiped over her dry lips. “Don’t chase me.”
“I don’t understand—” Cecelia began.
But Willow had already leapt for the window. She knew what was inside of herself. The twisting, yawning darkness. The raw emotions that had erupted when she’d become Jay’s lover. She felt wrong inside. Too much rage. Too much confusion.
And the image she’d had…the terrible vision of Jay dying, she knew what it was—
Her worst fear. If she stayed with him, it would come true. Because she was the biggest threat to him.
Before she could get to the window, Flynn stepped into her path. He let out a long sigh. “You know I can’t let you do this.”
“Let?” Willow repeated carefully. Her hands flexed at her sides. “Last time I checked, Jay said I wasn’t a prisoner here. You all said that.”
“That was before…” Flynn’s shoulders were straight, his hard gaze locked on her. “Before we realized Wyman had a trigger word for you, before his men swarmed this house.”
Flynn doesn’t trust me. Neither does Cecelia. “Step aside, Flynn.” She wasn’t staying. She had to leave.
“I want to know more about the first dream,” Cecelia said suddenly. “The dream of the man who said you belonged to him.”
What? Now?
“How did that make you feel when he said those words?”
Seriously—Cecelia was always focused on the feelings. “Absolutely terrified.” Dead truth. Her stare never wavered from Flynn. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I am leaving.”
“Willow…” He growled her name.
Cecelia put her hand on his shoulder. “She’s not a prisoner.”
Flynn’s head turned toward her. “You’re gonna let her just go?”
“I know when a woman’s running scared.” She inclined her head toward Willow. “But you aren’t going to find what you need by running, Willow.”
She inched toward the window. Stared down below. “You don’t know what I need.”
“Of course, I do.” Cecelia’s words were crisp. “And when you’re ready to hear what I have to say, come back.”
She wasn’t going to stop her? Really? “Jay is going to lose his shit,” Flynn muttered.
Willow flinched. Yes, he was. He was going to freak out, but there was something inside of her, something screaming that she had to leave. Had to go.
Before it was too late, for Jay.
“Tell him that I’m sorry.” She reached for the window.
“Don’t jump out,” Flynn snapped. “You’re not busting out on some desperate escape. Go down the stairs. Use the front door.”
She wanted to do that. Wanted to be normal but…
“She doesn’t trust us,” Cecelia said, and there was a faint shock in her words. “She doesn’t trust any of us.”
No, Willow didn’t. She was afraid the others downstairs would try to lock her up. So she didn’t hesitate any longer. She burst through the window. Flew through the air and touched down easily even as glass littered the ground around her.
Adrenaline drove her. Fear drove her. Darkness and rage. The emotions were so thick inside of her. Swirling. And she just had to run. Had to get away.
Before madness overtook her.
Then again, maybe it was already too late.
***
The machines droned in a steady beep, beep, beep as Jay stalked into the hospital room. Guards were stationed outside, and he wasn’t particularly surprised to find Sawyer sitting in a chair near the bed, his sharp blue gaze on the patient.
Wyman freaking Wright.
“Guess who’s going to live,” Sawyer muttered without taking his attention off the man in that bed. “For the time being, anyway.”
Yeah, Jay had gotten that particular bit of news from Elizabeth. It was the reason he was there and not with Willow.
Wyman’s eyelids fluttered.
“Been drifting in and out of sleep,” Sawyer added as he ran a tired hand over the back of his neck. “Elizabeth said she decreased the guy’s pain meds so he should be
coming around any moment.”
Sure enough, he was. Jay paced closer to the bed. He crossed his arms over his chest, and he waited. He’d been waiting a very long time for his chance to question this guy.
“Any chance he’s going to trigger you?” Jay asked quietly. Need to be on the safe side.
Sawyer grunted. “I’m guessing that’s why you’ve got a gun under your jacket?”
So he’d noticed that. “Only a tranq,” Jay replied easily as Wyman let out a groan. “Just in case.”
“Don’t get trigger happy on my ass,” Sawyer tossed back at him.
Then don’t attack me.
Wyman let out another groan. His head turned. His eyes focused on Sawyer. “N…no…” His head rolled on the pillow, now moving toward—
“Hello, sunshine,” Jay said to the bastard, feeling a grin stretch his face. “Isn’t it a great day to be alive?”
“Screw…off…” The words rasped from Wyman.
Jay just laughed. “Glad to see you’re feeling good enough to be pissy.”
Another ragged groan from Wyman was his answer.
Jay headed around the bed. Then he leaned over, making sure he was right in front of Wyman’s face. “You’re a liar.” And it gave him such pleasure to say those words.
Wyman coughed. “Where…where is…Willow?”
“You don’t need to worry about that. You aren’t going to use her again. She won’t be your weapon.”
“None of us will be,” Sawyer snarled. He’d stepped up to Jay’s side.
For a moment, Jay simply stared down at the man in the bed. Wyman Wright was pale, sickly. His body seemed fragile. His eyes were weak, bleary. This wasn’t the monster of D.C. The guy who’d once made the whole world tremble. This was a guy who was, “Done,” Jay said flatly. “There isn’t going to be some grand ending for you. I don’t care how many people owe you. You’ll give us the answers we need. You’ll tell us how many more test subjects are out there. Where they are, why—
“Wil…low…”
Jay stiffened. “She isn’t yours.”
Wyman coughed. Shuddered. “You lied, Wyman.” A cold smile stretched his face. “Willow isn’t your daughter. I had Elizabeth check your story. You’re no biological relative to Willow, and you—”