by Cynthia Eden
While they had driven, Ella had pushed her arms through the sleeves of his shirt and loosely buttoned the front. The shirt seemed to swallow her delicate frame as she sat beside him. He’d killed the engine, but she made no move to get out of the vehicle.
“This isn’t the place I was before.”
“No.” This facility was much closer to the Canadian border.
“Just how many containment areas do you have?”
Ah, she was back to that, huh? He opened his door and hurried around to her side of the vehicle. He inclined his head to the nearby guards. Then Eric pulled open her door. When she rose, the sweet scent of lilacs drifted to his nose. How the hell does she still smell like that? He cleared his throat. “I can’t tell you how many areas we possess. That’s classified.”
Her laughter was soft and a little bitter. “I forgot. I’m the enemy. I don’t get to know—”
His fingers curled around her wrist. “Is that what you are? The enemy? I’d thought we had a deal. That we were working on the same side now.”
Before she could speak, he turned and headed toward the elevator. He kept his hold on her wrist and Eric used his keycard to have those elevator doors sliding open. Most of the apartments were on this floor, but his…
He pushed the button to head down. Three floors.
“You won’t have to worry about sunlight.”
“I never do.”
Her answer was instant and—surprising. But he didn’t let his surprise show. Instead, he just said, “Of course not. Sunlight or moonlight. Neither have any influence on you.” So he was guessing. He was walking in the dark with her, going on bits of rumors he’d heard over the years. If his suspicions were right, Ella was someone very, very special indeed.
She could be the pivotal piece I need in this struggle.
Because there was a hell of a lot going on in the world right then. Purgatory—oh, but Purgatory was a serious cluster fuck. One he was still working hard to contain. He’d made a lot of progress recently, but there was still plenty of work to be done at the prison.
He’d tried to warn the powers-that-be about the problems that would come from putting all of the most powerful supernatural beings in one small area.
They could join together. They could become even more dangerous.
But his warnings had been ignored. Of course, he’d learned—too late—that one of the senators pushing for Purgatory had wanted all of that chaos to break loose. The guy had possessed illusions of grandeur when it came to the paranormal world. Senator Donald Quick had thought that he’d become a powerful werewolf. He’d believed the paranormals were poised to take over and to come out to the humans.
He’d been wrong.
Now, he was also dead.
But the battle wasn’t over. There were still secret groups out there, dangerous factions who wanted to rip the veil of secrecy away from the paranormals. They wanted the humans to know about them. To know and be terrified.
But terror would only create more violence. That wasn’t the way. Balance had to be maintained.
And, sometimes, it took monsters to create that balance.
“Uh, Eric? The elevator stopped.”
He blinked. His left hand ran over his face. Damn but he was tired. He’d been on her trail for the last forty-eight hours, and he’d barely slept. He’d been too…worried about her.
He stepped forward. His right hand was still curled around her wrist.
They passed a few guards. He saw the curious glances thrown his way. So what if it looked as if he were holding her hand? And…
Shit, I don’t have a shirt on.
For the first time in far longer than he could remember, Eric felt himself flush.
“Are you blushing?” Her voice was a hushed whisper. “You are. Oh, my—”
His keycard swiped over his lock. He leaned forward, did a retinal scan, and the door opened. Eric hurriedly pulled Ella inside.
She was smiling. Laughing softly. The sound was oddly beautiful.
“The big, bad Para Unit director. Blushing because—”
“Because it looks as if I had sex with you on the way here?” Him—no shirt. Her—disheveled hair and wearing his missing shirt. No wonder they’d gotten curious glances. Curious and knowing. Hell.
Her mouth dropped. Then closed. “Oh. That’s what they—you’re director! Can’t you tell them to stop thinking that? Order them to?” Now she sounded insulted and scandalized.
She didn’t really need to sound that insulted. It was rough on his ego.
He shut the door behind them. “Take off the shirt.”
Ella whirled toward him. “What?”
Through gritted teeth he said, “I’m not asking for a strip tease.” Perhaps it had sounded that way. And in his mind, he knew that would be awesome, but…“I just want to check your wounds. We have other doctors on staff here.” Though he thought Holly was the best. “If necessary, I can have one of them come in and check you out.” He’d never forget the way she’d looked, huddled on the ground beneath that net. Her body had shuddered in pain and he—
He’d never wanted to kill anyone more.
Those bastards were swarming me. They were trying to take her from me. I would have killed them all before I let them take her.
Hardly civilized thoughts. Especially for a man who was always supposed to have his control in place. But that night, his control had started to crack.
Her blue gaze cut away from his. “You gave me your blood. I’m okay.”
“I need to see for myself.” Both her wounds—and her wings. When he’d seen her fly…everything had changed for him. He’d witnessed plenty during his time as director of the Para Unit. Hell, he’d seen plenty before he’d taken the director’s position. He hadn’t thought he could be shocked any longer. He’d been wrong.
“Fine.” Her hands went to the line of buttons on the front of his shirt. Perhaps it was his imagination, but her fingers seemed to be trembling a bit as she unhooked the buttons. Then she opened the shirt and let it fall to the floor. “There? Happy.” She held her arms out in front of her body. “The marks have faded. I’m as good as new.”
Not quite. He could still see faint red lines on her body. The pain she must have been feeling…all of those burns. Eric crossed to her side in an instant, pulled there, helplessly.
His hand lifted toward her.
“What—what are you doing?” Suspicion flashed on her face.
His fingers skimmed over her shoulder. “Does it hurt when I touch you?” His fingers hesitated over one red mark that circled her shoulder.
“No.” She licked her lips. “There’s no pain now. Humans would say it wasn’t even like a mild sunburn.”
His fingers started to lower to her skin, but he stopped, and his hand fisted.
“Eric?”
His head bent and his lips brushed over her shoulder. He felt her whole body stiffen. “I don’t like…” Eric kissed her shoulder again. “For you to be in pain.”
“I don’t like it either,” she whispered.
He lifted her arm. There was another faint red line—this one was on the inside of her elbow. He pressed his mouth to that mark.
“You don’t have to do that.” Her words sounded rushed. “No, I mean, you shouldn’t be doing that. Don’t. I’m okay now. Really.”
But she hadn’t been okay before. She’d been crying. “I wasn’t sure I’d get to you.” He brought her wrist to his mouth. Another red mark was there. He remembered when she’d grabbed the net and it had pressed to her hands. She’d screamed.
She screamed for me.
And something inside of him had roared back for her.
“I thought you were dead when those werewolves swarmed you.” Her voice was softer than a breath, but his enhanced hearing easily picked up her words. “I didn’t want you to die.”
He brought her wrist to his mouth. He pressed his lips to her wrist. Felt the fast and frantic pounding of her pulse.
&nbs
p; Why did people believe that vampires were cold? That their hearts didn’t beat? They still lived—their hearts had to beat. If they didn’t, they’d just be decomposing piles of flesh. Zombies, not vamps.
Though he hadn’t encountered any actual zombies yet, and of all the paranormal creatures out there, Eric was sure hoping that those guys were just myths. Stories to frighten children.
And men.
Ella’s heart beat. It pounded in a beautiful rhythm. His mouth pressed to her delicate wrist and his lips parted because it would be so very easy—incredibly so—to sink his teeth into her skin.
No. You have rules. You have control. Keep it in place.
“Eric?”
He lifted his head. Were his fangs showing? He rarely let them out. But then, his relationship with Ella was going to be different. She wasn’t like the others.
His gaze slid over her. Ella’s breasts thrust toward him. Beautiful, small, but perfectly rounded—actually absolutely perfect. Dark tips. Tight. Tempting. Would she moan when he tasted them? When he licked them?
His cock shoved against the front of his jeans. The damn thing was so heavy and full that he was afraid he’d bust his zipper at any moment. He couldn’t ever remember wanting a woman the way he wanted her. Was it because of her bite?
Was it just because she was…Ella?
“Turn around,” he said, sounding far too rough and hard. But if she didn’t turn around, her nipple would be in his mouth in the next five seconds.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two—
Her hand slipped from his and she turned.
His eyes snapped closed and he concentrated on breathing. Slow and deep. Slow. Deep. The way I want to fuck her.
His eyes flew right back open.
There were more faint red marks on her back but—where her wings had been before, there was nothing. No raised flesh to mark them. No difference at all in her skin or her bone structure. His index finger slid along the ridge of her left shoulder blade, and she shivered.
“Does my touch bother you?” Eric asked her.
“No.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I like it…too much.”
He didn’t breathe for a moment. He was busy using all of his will power and not jumping her.
“Am I supposed to pretend that I don’t want you?” Ella laughed and the husky sound rolled right over his skin as if she’d just touched his body. “I’m standing in front of you, naked from the waist up. You can see me—there’s no hiding. Yes, I like it when you touch me. Yes, I want you to touch me more.” But she pulled away from him. She grabbed for the shirt she’d tossed aside moments before and now she held it up in front of her body, as if it were some sort of shield. “The problem is that I don’t know if I can trust you.”
His hands clenched into fists. He missed the silk of her skin. And he really didn’t like that she’d covered up those gorgeous breasts.
“You should be demanding to know what I am.” Her chin lifted. “Asking me where my wings went. Asking—like Connor did—why the gold hurt me. There are a million questions you should be asking me, and instead, you ask if your touch bothers me…bothers me,” she repeated with a rough shake of her head. “If you’re the one, then isn’t your touch supposed to make me react that way? Isn’t it supposed to make me need you so much that I can barely hold back?”
He could see her desire for him, flashing in her gaze. A dull roar filled his own ears. He’d held back for so long, always pretending to have ice in his veins. But she was different.
He was different.
“When you look at me,” Ella continued, “what do you think?”
“I think I want you naked, and I want to taste every single inch of you.” Brutal honesty.
Her breath heaved out. “I thought I was your prisoner.”
“I was keeping you safe.”
“Safety can look a lot prison to someone with my past.”
He needed her to trust him, with every secret that she had. Because he’d realized just how important she was in this twisted game he played. “I’m not planning to send you to prison.”
Her eyes seemed bigger. Bluer. “Are you sure? Because I’ve got it on pretty good authority that you do that. I mean, your whole job is about sending paranormals to Purgatory, isn’t it?”
He didn’t want to ever think of Ella in Purgatory. The bastards there would tear her apart. Never.
Eric took a step toward her.
She lifted her hand, the gesture telling him to stop. “I don’t think well enough when you get too close. Maybe it’s your blood…”
“Did you like the way I taste?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t normally offer myself up like that, just so you know.’
Her gaze searched his. “Then why am I so different?”
His stare fell to her mouth. Her bottom lip was fuller than her top. Plump. Sexy. Biteable. “You tell me.”
“Eric…”
“I really like that,” he told her. “When you say my name that way, it makes me want all kinds of things…”
She backed up a step.
“But all I want tonight…” Despite the huge dick that was shoving through his pants. “I want to kiss you, Ella.”
“Kiss me?”
“Just kiss you. One kiss so I can see how you taste.”
Now her eyes were on his mouth. He’d controlled himself—and forced his fangs away.
“One kiss,” she said. “I think I’d like that.” Then she laughed again. Her laughter did something to him. His chest ached and he felt—hell, less hollow on the inside. “A kiss from you seems like a perfect way to end this insane night.”
He closed the space between them. Ella tipped back her head as she stared up at him. One of her hands still held his shirt pressed to her chest.
Her lips were parted.
So perfect.
His hand lifted and curled under her chin. His head lowered and his mouth closed over hers.
Slowly, slowly…
Her tongue licked over his lips.
Fuck slow.
Desire burst beyond his control. White-hot. Burning him from the inside out. His left arm wrapped around her and he pulled her closer while his right tipped her head back even more. Her lips were parted fully for him, and his tongue thrust past her lips. He tasted her. One taste.
Eric knew he would crave no one else.
Better than wine. Rich and sweet and decadent all at the same time. He feasted on her. The shirt fell away and he felt the tips of her breasts press against his chest. She was pulling him closer, and closer was the only place he wanted to be.
In his mind, he could see them together. Twined on the bed. Naked. He was driving into her again and again. They rolled across that bed. Her body held his cock like a tight, hot glove. She rose above him and her wings spread out behind her as she came, gasping his—
Ella pulled away from him. Her breath heaved out. Her whole body shook. And there was a bright flush on her cheeks.
It took him a moment to realize he wasn’t in bed with her. He wasn’t in her. His teeth clenched to hold back a snarl of fury because he wanted her so badly. The fantasy had taken over his mind. He’d been able to feel her against him. Feel what it was like to be in her.
“Are you…the one I waited for?” Ella asked him.
He had no fucking clue what she was talking about. But Eric knew that if he didn’t get away from her, he’d be taking her. Right. Then.
He spun away.
“Eric!” She touched his shoulder.
Desire—dark and demanding—filled his blood. “Unless you want to fuck, right there on that bed, now, you’ll let me go.” Talking was hard, but she needed to understand. “You do something to me…” His voice sounded like a beast. Like a werewolf in mid-shift. Half man. Half animal. “I don’t think the way I want you is…normal.” Not normal. Not safe. “Dangerous.”
He was just realizing that now
.
Her hand slid away. He marched for the door. His gaze zeroed in on the door. He just focused on it, focused on putting one foot in front of the other. He was almost there—
“I don’t mind dangerous,” Ella said. “In fact, I rather like it.”
Sonofa—
He yanked open the door and headed out before the last thread of his control shredded.
***
Ella’s hand lifted and she touched her lips. He’d kissed her—and it had been wild, rough, perfect. She’d gotten lost with him, so caught up, imagining what it would be like if he took her to bed. If he took her.
Her clothes would have been gone. His would have been across the room. He would have sunk deep into her. She would have ridden him and the pleasure would have slammed into them both.
The fantasy had been so real. She’d never kissed a man and wanted him that badly. Never kissed a man and seen what it would be like to be with him.
For a second there, she’d even thought she’d felt the hard press of his fangs against her.
Ella stared at that shut door, and for the first time in centuries, real hope flooded through her. He could truly be the one.
Her footsteps padded toward that door. She reached for the knob. Tried to turn it. He could be—
He’d locked her inside.
She yanked on that door, trying to jerk the thing open, but it didn’t give at all. Her eyes narrowed as she studied that whole door. It wasn’t wood but some kind of reinforced metal. Was it that paranormal-proof stuff supposedly used at Purgatory? Why would the guy paranormal-proof his own room?
To keep the monsters out?
Or to…keep his own monster in?
***
Eric grabbed a t-shirt from the stock room and yanked it on. It was a damn good thing they kept spare uniforms there because he couldn’t face Ella again. Not yet. He needed to get his desire for her back under control.