by D. C. Stone
"Mackenzie, you going somewhere?"
Bari’s body immediately hardened at the sight of her green gaze glancing up. He reached down and picked up the envelope he had dropped when Mackenzie slammed into him, setting it in front of his erection with nonchalance. She looked exhausted. His brows furrowed, drew down tight. She bit her lip, and his cock gave a painful jump in response. Goddamnit.
What are you going to do, Bari? Toss her against the wall here in the hospital?
Well yes, yes that’s exactly what I’d like to do.
For fuck’s sake, shut up!
Bari grimaced and stepped back, angling his head away from her tempting scent. He needed a cold shower, to get as far as possible from her. Normally, so in control of himself, of his body, this reaction to her drove him insane, confused the hell out of him.
“I ran into a slight problem last night. Beth is helping us out. Why are you here?” Mackenzie shook her head, a soft snort coming from her mouth. “You know what? Don’t answer that. In fact, please move.” She reached up and set a hand on his chest to push him back.
Mackenzie’s touch ignited a spark inside of him, sent that spark into a burning inferno through his veins. His entire body trembled, shuddered, as heat coiled deep inside. Fuck, what was wrong with him? If she unraveled him with a single touch, what would happen if he gave in to temptation and took what he wanted? He fought against the urge to groan before her words snapped his attention back to her face.
Us?
"A problem?"
“Move, Bari.”
His jaw clenched tighter. "Not that you'll fucking take it, Angel. But if you need help with your … ‘problem’, you know where to find me."
Mackenzie let out a sharp, bitter laugh and spoke, her words uncensored.
“You help, huh? Perhaps then, you’ll stop running away from me, stop dodging me, and instead itch this scratch I have for you. Perhaps you’ll send that letter I looked for nine goddamn years ago. But no, you’re too much of a chicken shit, for even a little woman of my size. It seems as though every time I open my mouth to even talk to you, you run the other way.”
This time, she gave a very loud unladylike snort, turned, and took a step.
Bari’s control snapped, the thread almost visible at the mental image her words provided. In two steps, he was on her.
“Yep … that did it, Angel.” One hand grabbed her shoulder and spun. He had the brief satisfaction of seeing her eyes widen before he pulled her into a vacant room.
The door clicked shut behind him, and he swooped in, dipped his head, his mouth hovering in invitation. Bari’s body crowded Mackenzie’s, his control off the charts. He pressed the length of his body against her. Pleasure unbound ran through him. When he spoke, his voice came out low, harsh, husky.
"It’s scratch this itch, Mac. Scratch this itch, not itch this scratch.” His breath fanned across her lips. “You have no clue how much I want you, Angel. No idea of just how I'll do my job or exactly where I want to see your mouth." Warning bells clanged in his head as he continued on.
Shut up. Shut up, bro.
"Mackenzie..." His voice rumbled, his lips whispering across her cheek. He had already suffered blows to his pride, his ego, his damn control around her.
"Like I said, you need help. You let me know. I'm not the heartless bastard you think I am."
Setting one arm against the wall behind her head, he leaned down. He saw her eyes as if it were daylight, the change enhancing his vision, light coming in from beneath the closed door.
“You also have no idea how badly, how very much I crave to be able to scratch any itch you may have.”
Bari reached down and wrapped his hands around her wrists, pinning her to the wall behind. "You’ve pulled me to you, Mac. Like a magnet, you have this pull on me that gives me no choice. I get it, accept it, and want it. Want you.” His eyes locked on her lips. “Your sweet, smart mouth. So the next time you put your hands on me, the next time you feed me images from your head, understand, next time, I won't be so nice."
With the warning, Bari pushed off of her; forcing his body to turn and open the door, he walked toward the elevator. The door opened behind him, but he refused to look back. He stepped inside of the elevator, his back facing to the halls, to the one person he could no longer deny.
Coward.
Yes, yes he was.
****
There were questions Bethany had. Questions about Byron and questions Mackenzie didn’t seem to have answers to. She didn’t understand what was going on, couldn’t figure out why Byron had suddenly gotten sick and then, as if a switch flipped, he was fine. Bethany pulled Mackenzie aside and inquired if this had anything to do with Bari and his ability to heal so fast, but she couldn’t answer.
Checking Byron out of the hospital didn’t take long. Byron enjoyed being wheeled out of the building, the attendant insisting on it and giving Byron a bit of a thrill ride in secret. As Mackenzie reached her car in the garage, her steps faltered: there was a single red rose on her windshield. At first glance she thought it had been yet another rose from Bari but froze as she saw the silver star sitting wrapped with a chain around it. Adrenaline pulsed through her body, her gaze snapping up and searching the garage. He had always left her silver stars with each of his “gifts.”
“Oh please God, no.”
He found her again, she knew it. It sent her blood cold, and she hurried to get in the car. Mackenzie pulled up to the front of the hospital moments later, her face an emotionless mask for Byron.
As they drove home, she worried her lip, listening to Byron who, for the most part, was back to normal. She was torn between their safety and the one person she felt comfortable going to. Bari had always protected and looked out for her. Now, when she feared for her safety, it was only natural that she should go to him again.
Right?
Mackenzie sighed and gripped the steering wheel, wondering what in the hell she was supposed to do. There was no doubt in her mind he was here and that they were going to have to run again. Her heart lurched with uncertainty, her mind focused on Bari. Almost immediately she felt his presence. It should have freaked her out, but instead, she felt calm play over her skin. Worry still centered in her mind for their safety, but the security that had always been Bari was almost immediate.
“What do you want, Bari? Please, tell me. Please help me.”
Chapter Seventeen
Bari heard her voice in his head, echoing in his skull, and reached up to grab it. “Fuckin-a, Angel.” Christ, what did he want? She didn’t already know?
He stood from the bed and shut the TV off, moving to the window. Lifting a hand, he set it on the glass pane and felt the cool air from the dark night outside trying to creep through the thin barrier that separated their worlds. Creatures scurried in the dark shadows, some without fear and others creating it. He understood them all, had an understanding now of all that went “bump” in the night. The trees shook slightly in the wind and besides the whisper of wind, no other sounds decorated the night.
Mackenzie wanted to know what he wanted and by gods he thought he made himself more than clear the last time he saw her. Why didn’t she see it? Yet at the same time, there was no other place that scared him more than being in her arms.
Nothing made sense anymore.
What the fuck was he doing here?
They called him in, had taken him from where he commanded things, where he led the way, where he saved lives and took them. They thrust him into this world, everything he ever understood and believed in gone. Nantucket shouldn’t seem like a strange world to him, hell, it was where he grew up. But it was, somehow, someway everything seemed so different, and he felt like a newcomer in the world. In a way, maybe he was. It made what he knew seem like a shadowed lie.
He got that he hurt her all those years ago, that he should have explained things to her before he left. A child was involved now, a child that was his, a child that could be the very same kind of dem
on as he was. How in the hell was he supposed to explain this to her, to the child?
He was supposed to be protecting her. How did he protect her when he couldn’t even be in the same room without wanting to rip her clothing off, bury himself between her thighs? He tried to act as if he didn’t give a shit what she did, but the problem was, by all that existed, he really did.
Setting his knuckles against the window, he pushed back and turned away. He needed his space, needed to get his head on straight. He grabbed his jacket on the way to the door and walked out, needing answers.
Sometime later Bari glanced up and wasn’t surprised as he stood outside Mackenzie’s. He had been walking, for hours, thinking on everything, the changes, old hidden feelings locked away, now reappearing. How did he get her to understand? How would he ever be able to walk away from her again when the first time practically killed him?
He studied her little house. A simple peach colored rancher spread out across a nice manicured yard, bright flowers and thick, green trees lining the property. Her shades were drawn, and shadows moved behind them.
He had a son. That had been a bigger shock to his system than anything else. Another craving, a deeper, protective one started to surface at the thought of Byron. The front door opened, and a little boy appeared. Bari’s breath hitched.
Byron stepped from the house with a white bag of trash in his grip. At eight years old, the kid was tall for his age, his long legs eating up the distance down the walk. Bari followed Byron, unable to tear his eyes from him, his heart pounding as if a horse were running the Kentucky Derby in his chest. With his enhanced sight, even in the darkness Bari saw Byron’s dark, black hair, curly like his mother’s. Tight ringlets fell, brushing his shoulders. Did his son hold anything of his? Was the demon inside him too?
Byron dropped the bag at the curb and paused as he turned back to the house. He raised his head and snapped it in the direction Bari stood. Just outside of the streetlight’s illumination, Bari knew he had been spotted. He took a step forward, moving his body beneath the light and stood in silence—watching, waiting, wondering.
Byron turned, his eyes studying Bari as if he were trying to place him. The little boy’s eyes narrowed then widened in response. Byron’s eyes shifted from Bari to the open front door quickly before returning to him.
“You’re him.”
Bari’s eyes closed briefly at his son’s sweet voice. Could one fall in love so swiftly? Was this what parents felt as they held their newborn for the first time? The feelings Bari had for this little boy hit him with such strength that the blow felt like an atomic bomb. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Instead, Bari shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded, wondering how to explain any of this, who he was, to the most important person in his life.
****
Mackenzie glanced up from the dishes and frowned at the clock. Byron had been outside for several minutes. She turned off the water, wiped her hands, and turned to the front of the house. Just as suspected, the front door was open. A quick dose of fear entered her system as she thought to a few days ago, the man who had been talking to Byron on the street. She rushed outside to the front porch and froze as she saw them.
In the front of the house, Byron’s laughter carried through the quiet night. He stood next to a man, a tall one, one whose form she’d recognize anywhere. Fear turned to confusion, dread, and a rush of happiness. Conflicted, her breath caught at the sight of them. Byron smiled up at Bari, and in return Bari grinned. The smiles Bari gave were treasures, gifts so rare. The vision of him smiling made her heart skip. He would hate being described as beautiful, but that was the only one she could give him. Even then, the simple word didn’t do Bari justice.
As if he sensed her, his head lifted. The smile on his face faltered and disappeared, replaced by a quick frown before all emotion wiped from his face.
Well there you go, Mac. Nice on the ego when a man looks at you and frowns, huh?
She met his frown and sighed. When would she get the hint? Bari apparently didn’t want her. He confused her, his actions, words, all of them making her head spin.
Byron turned toward her a moment later, following Bari’s gaze, and she heard him curse. She lifted a brow as Bari’s head snapped toward her son.
“Byron David Walters, I know I just did not hear that word come from your mouth.” From the porch she saw Byron cringe before his head dropped between his shoulders. Bari let out a deep chuckle and set his hand on Byron’s shoulder. The look Byron gave Bari caused Mackenzie’s breath to hitch. Wonder, need, and devotion—it was written all over his face. Had she really believed she could do this alone? Mackenzie’s heart sank as defeat made its presence felt, and she let out a soft sigh. The sigh must have carried because Bari lifted his head and looked at her again, that same frown returning, his eyes narrowing. His hand on Byron’s shoulder gave her son a little push before they both started up the walkway together.
Mackenzie squared her shoulders and watched as they both stopped in front of her. She couldn’t take her gaze from Bari, and her heart squeezed as he met her gaze. “Byron, go wash up and get ready for bed.”
“But Mom…”
“I said, go. We’ll talk about that word you used later.”
As Byron trudged off, Bari’s eyes flicked to Byron for one second before his lips quirked. His blue gaze turned back to hers, and the smile she loved disappeared from his face.
She fought the urge to punch him to see if she’d get a response.
Bari blinked, raised a brow, and as if he read her mind, took a step toward her. “Mackenzie, I think we need to talk.”
Oh boy.
“Yeah, I think so too.” Don’t invite him in. Don’t invite him in, Mackenzie.
“Come inside, Bari. I need to get Byron ready for bed, and then we’ll talk.” Smart move, Sherlock!
Mackenzie cringed, watched something flash over Bari’s face before he nodded and stepped inside.
Chapter Eighteen
Leaning back against the counter, Bari took in Mackenzie’s kitchen. The white counters gleamed under the soft light, and reflections danced through the air as their shadows bounced off of the stainless steel appliances. The kitchen cabinets wrapped around the western walls in an elbow shape, and marking the center stood a silver sink. Bari could actually picture Mackenzie, in his mind, standing at that sink and watching Byron playing outside through the large window lining that wall. If one were to turn while standing at that sink, one would immediately see the large kitchen island that stood as a focal point in the middle of the room.
Bari watched as she moved around with confidence and ease. As Mackenzie finished with the coffee, Bari took the mug from her hands and wrapped his palm around the smooth surface. Mackenzie turned to him, leaning against the counter, and took a sip, watching him over the rim of her cup. There were so many things to say, so many things he wanted to explain; yet now, when he wanted to talk, Bari found he was at a loss for words. Nothing would come so instead he watched as she brought her mug down from her lips and swiped her tongue across the dark pink skin. Bari followed the motion of her tongue, entranced with the urge to taste her lips. It was strong, one he had to tamp down. As much as he wanted it, this wasn’t the time. He promised himself he wouldn’t seduce her, made a silent promise to Mackenzie he wouldn’t hurt her again. He saw the hurt hovering in her eyes and accepted he had been the bastard who put it there. Goddammit.
You’re such a good little Samaritan.
Fuck off.
“He’s beautiful, Mac.”
Mackenzie nodded. “Yes. He’s my world.”
“He has your hair.”
“But it’s your color.”
“Is it?” Bari paused, tilted his head in thought. “His eyes…”
“Yeah…”
“They’re my father’s.”
Mackenzie glanced up, her mouth gaped open in shock. “I thought your dad’s eyes were brown?”
Bari shook his head.
“Not my adoptive father’s, Mac. My birth father. He had the same gun-metal gray eyes.”
“Oh.”
"I can’t begin to understand what’s going through your mind right now. What I can understand is that you probably have about a million and one questions, Mac. While I may not be one who is used to others asking so much of me, I’m willing to give you your chance to ask what you need to and will remain completely honest with you on what I can and cannot handle." That brought another thing to mind. "In fact, Mac, if there is anything I do that you can't handle, you just say the word. We clear?"
“What if I’d rather not talk about the past, Bari?”
He drew his brows down, a frown pulling at his mouth. “Then what do you want to discuss, Mac?”
Mackenzie studied him for a few moments, her mug sitting between her hands and the ticking of a clock the only sound. Hell, he had been through classes to evade interrogations with torture and yet a look, silence, and her eyes had him squirming.
You’re bad ass, bro.
Very slowly, very deliberately Mackenzie set down her mug and turned toward him, stepping forward and right up against his body. His hand holding the mug was pushed aside by hers and guided to the counter before she leaned up on her toes and brushed her lips, feather soft, over his. Mackenzie held his hand at the counter, curling her fingers around his as an electric current pulsed through them both.
Shock and pure, unadulterated lust pooled deep in his gut. Bari sucked in a sharp breath at the first press of her lips and shook with the amount of force it was taking to hold him back as she paused and waited for his reaction. Fuck—this was all he dreamed of for years but now felt unsure of how much to push. His mind pinged off about a dozen warning bells. Watching her response carefully, he brushed his lips on Mackenzie’s, tempting, enticing her to part her lips, and she did. His tongue darted out, licking the seam of her lips slowly, tasting her. He heard Mackenzie’s breath catch, felt her lips part on a sigh and took advantage, plunging his tongue deep inside her mouth. Her taste assailed him, gripped him, and entranced him to continue. He kept the kiss slow and cautious, not wanting to push her, and gave in to the temptation she offered: a sweet sip of Mackenzie Walters.