by Nya Rawlyns
Caitlin lay on a double-bed, clad only in an oversized tee-shirt that rode up her thighs, revealing her narrow hips. Recognizing the signs of stasis, he breathed a sigh of relief, but the demands of his body to claim his mate threatened to over-ride good sense. He'd need to take his time and bring her out of it carefully, but he had no clue where Jake had gone, nor when he might return. Was it worth the risk? He would never know unless he tried. He'd already lost her once.
Slipping out of his tee-shirt and jeans, he lay next to Caitlin and gathered her close, inhaling deeply of her sweet scent, something he never thought he'd ever experience again. Needing to feel her skin against his, he pulled the tee-shirt off as she grunted softly, still blissfully unaware of his presence. He allowed himself a moment to explore the sweet rise of her breasts, smiling when, even unconscious, her nipples responded to his gentle massage. He desperately tried to remember what she liked, but ruefully knew he'd been more concerned with his own pleasure and less with hers. She'd been generous to a fault, and forgiving of his selfishness. He vowed he would change that equation and put her first, as it should have been from the beginning.
Tracing his tongue along her neck, he reveled in the steady pulse. It was time. Drawing on all his resources, he pulled her energy up from her core, watchful that she not surface violently and wreck whatever healing might have occurred during her internment.
Caitlin murmured a throaty sigh, stretching catlike and rolling onto her back. Without conscious thought he eased over her, nudging her thighs apart as he sought to find the moist heat. His mind screamed 'NO' as he probed, watchful for the first sign of resistance. He would not take her by force, never again.
Caitlin's eyes widened, first in confusion, followed by inexplicable understanding. He waited for the words that would gut him, for her to call out Wolf's name, not his. He searched for hard-eyed hate but found only disbelief and ... hope. Her body tensed, then yielded.
"Trey?" She purred his name, throaty and seductive, the single word ringing in his ears and filling his chest with hope. She stuttered, "How..." but let the question trail away, locking her eyes with his, searching for the truth he prayed she'd find.
The effort to hold himself suspended aggravated his damaged shoulder, but he ignored the pain as he rubbed his cock against her soft folds, teasing. He was giving her time to say the one word he would honor.
"Caitlin, I didn't abandon you. I need to explain. It was all lies." It came out in a rush, disjointed, even he knew it to be no explanation at all. He was not good with words—all he had left was the love in his heart. "Please, please believe me..."
She whispered, as she had done so many ages ago, "What happens if I say 'no'?" There was that same sense of curiosity, that same lack of fear. But back then there had also been a hint of laughter. This time she was serious, yet still unafraid. The choice was hers and hers alone.
He brushed her lips with his tongue, tenderly sweeping into the hollow of her mouth, remembering the taste and feel, terrified it might be his last.
He moaned a prayer of despair, "Don't..."
Familiar, crushing weight and a heady scent of musk and testosterone flooded her consciousness. She knew, without understanding the how or why, that it was Trey holding her in thrall once more. The link burned hot, with no interference to block its path. It felt right. His words resonated with a truth so profound, she had no choice but to believe—in him, in them. That did not relieve her of the confusion she felt, nor did it alleviate the stranglehold each warrior had on her soul. She'd caved in to fate, with each of them in turn, holding tight to her heart.
Was it wrong to want, to need, both of them? Surely she couldn't be such a wanton slut, to give herself so freely to each in turn, yet that was exactly what she was doing. The strange wash of lust and desire she'd felt that night with Wolf cascaded through her, knowing that somehow both men had been in that bed—impossible as it seemed—pleasuring her to heights she'd never even imagined, let alone experienced until that moment.
Whatever had happened, whatever she believed, would need re-evaluation, but not now, not here, not with his cock poised to delve deep into her core, to reclaim what she'd given so freely once before. She knew there were questions she should be asking. Where was Wolf and her father, how did Trey get to be in her bed, claiming her as his mate—such small fragments, tiny concerns, that were overwhelmed by her need to feel him once more inside her.
She hissed, "Yes," and lifted her hips as he thrust deep, pausing to let her adjust but she didn't want his gentleness. She didn't need his consideration. What she craved was his dominance. Let Wolf be the kind and caring lover. Trey demanded her body and claimed it for his own.
As his tongue plundered her mouth, she raked his back with her nails until he grunted in pain. Pulling away, he gave her a feral, knowing grin as she mouthed, "Fuck me, hard." Her last rational thought before giving way to the tide of pure sensation was that foreplay skills were highly overrated.
****
The four men rose from the uncomfortable folding chairs and shook hands.
Tyr, looking smug, motioned for his companion to bring over a metal container. The man set it on a small table and opened it. Wolf and Jake leaned over and nodded agreement.
"I assume these will suit your purposes, gentlemen. I understand you have been under some constraints as to securing weapons. We will, of course, supply you with whatever you need."
Wolf fondled the Italian sniper rifle with reverence. "These aren't supposed to be available in this country."
Tyr smiled broadly. "Gunnarr isn't the only one with connections in the arms trade." He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. With a casual wave of his hand, he boasted, "I can get you whatever you need."
Wolf said, "This will do for now ... Gothi." Tyr's face remained impassive but the quick uptick in his facial muscles gave away his pleasure that Wolf recognized and legitimized his claim to Althing leadership.
Jake stood apart from the group. He'd agreed to follow Wolf's lead, though in truth he'd had no choice. As a human, he had no standing in the Althing organization. He was there solely because of his status as the asset's father, and his influence over her.
Jake spoke up, "It's getting late. Caitlin's alone in the cabin. We need to go."
Wolf replaced the sniper rifle and closed the case. Sweeping the area once more, he sensed nothing amiss in the immediate vicinity, and that confused and vexed him. His gut had been wreaking havoc during the meet, the link oscillating with painful intensity, unlike anything he'd experienced to that point in time. He wished fervently he understood more of what the physical reactions meant. His lack of knowledge and understanding of the process kept him in a constant state of anxiety. Perhaps when all of this was over he would consult with the Althing scientists. Surely they would offer some guidance to help him, and Caitlin, deal with the all-consuming drain on their bodies—and concentration.
As they exited the door, Tyr called out, "Take care. Our intelligence indicates unusual activity at Gunnarr’s headquarters. I'd recommend you change location as soon as you can."
Wolf glanced at Jake who nodded agreement. "Understood, Gothi."
Wolf drove carefully, keeping to the speed limit. He kept his own counsel, concentrating on the narrow two-lane road and his own misgivings. He'd swear something was wrong but he couldn't put his finger on it. He would have mentioned it to Jake but the man had turned his head to stare out the window, his body a study in self-containment.
He turned onto the long driveway leading back to Jake's compound. The Jeep bounced over the ruts as they neared the small barn nestled against a stand of new growth trees and brush. The door was cracked open, allowing weak light to filter onto the driveway. Jake sat up and peered with interest out the driver-side window. A shadow passed across the narrow swath of light, eliciting a grunt from Jake but no comment. Wolf continued up the drive to the cabin, still encased in darkness.
Exiting the vehicle stiffly, Jake walked to the tr
unk to retrieve the metal boxes. Wolf took the proffered case and headed into the cabin, leaving Jake to check on Trey. He had no wish to confront the man until he'd calmed down. Being on edge made him trigger-happy. He needed a clear head to deal with what was coming.
After setting the case behind the old sofa, he padded quietly to the bedroom and carefully opened the door. Enough light filtered through the gauze curtains to allow him to see Caitlin clearly.
She lay spread-eagle on the bed, her white blonde hair splayed across the pillows, an angelic smile twitching the corners of her mouth. He moved from his side of the bed and sidled along the wall, approaching the nightstand cautiously, fearing he might wake her, terrified of what he might say, what he might do.
She shifted slightly, wrapping her arms about a pillow with a gentle sigh. He reached down and curled several long strands of hair behind her ear. She murmured 'um' and rolled toward him, reaching reflexively but he backed against the wall and shut his eyes, his chest heaving as he fought the memory.
Helpless, he let the sensations play up and down his spine, frantic to deny what he felt but knowing he owned it, wanted it, would never again be satisfied with less.
She cracked her eyes open, blinked sleepily and sighed, "I love you," as she turned over and fell into a rapturous daze.
He clenched his fingers into tight fists, opening and closing them spasmodically, cursing softly as tears coursed down his face.
Chapter Fifteen
The buzzer on his desk phone alerted him to the call he'd been waiting for all day. He swatted at the mute button then decided against broadcasting his business to his associates and their damned enhanced senses. He picked the receiver up and settled himself on his leather desk chair.
"Gunnarr. What news?" He listened patiently, jotting down notes, but mostly rocked the chair back and forth, the rhythmic creaks punctuating the information stream. Finally, he grimaced and muttered, "Later," carefully cradling the handset before allowing himself the luxury of a string of epithets. He was beginning to appreciate the fine line Eirik had trod in his dealings with Gunnarr and the Greyfalcon group.
It was probably in his favor that the man was unaware of how carefully he'd cemented his position in the Althings. He was willing to go along with Gunnarr's plans with regard to corralling Knutr ... for now. It was in both their best interests to do so. However, if and when their agendas diverged, he could and would do whatever was necessary to assert his leadership.
The Portals remained at risk, now so more than ever. It vexed him that Eirik had let control slip through his fingers. In this case, clan loyalties had clouded his judgment. And his almost obsessive focus on the asset had done little to move their objectives along. Eirik had allowed the mob's incursions into their rightful territory, at least indirectly by failing to rein in Knutr and Gunnarr. Now it all threatened to implode.
The asset was still viable and in play but manpower and collateral damage had become necessary bywords in any discussion about her. And if the rumors were true...The implications of a possible double bond were disturbing and enticing. How did something like that even happen? The two unlikeliest of all the possible genetic candidates—Liuthr and Trey—at the same time? The odds against were astronomical.
He tried not to get ahead of himself. Trey he could understand. The fact that the man seemed willing to throw himself under a bus just because he thought the woman, Caitlin, was dead was an indication of something deeper than simple lust. With Liuthr it was more of an intuition—something about the way he'd stared at the woman during the abortive meeting at the National Seashore.
He could not help respecting Liuthr, at least on one level. The man was a warrior without equal, a true kriger, but his loyalties were still with Eirik and the man's damnable mission statement. He would not be easily persuaded from his current path, especially if that path and the woman's converged. Nothing muddied the complex Althing politics more than throwing lineage into the mix. If it became known that Wolf had developed a bond with the asset, it would take little for his intensely loyal brotherhood to unite in a coup on his behalf, whether Wolf wanted the position or not. He was under no illusions that the clan leaders had united behind him because he represented a carefully constructed middle ground and had never espoused anything other than the party line.
Trey was another matter entirely, a true loose cannon, a man who'd had nothing to live for and now suddenly confronted a new reality. He wondered if, in the big scheme of things, it would really matter if they all just ... eliminated each other. His gut told him that letting it ride would produce an outcome none of them could live with.
They could ill-afford an internecine war right now. Not with Leonov snickering in his vodka as the primary obstacles to his plan for global domination in the drug and weapons trade conveniently finished each other off. He already held trump cards with Knutr and Kieran. All he had to do was stir the pot and wait for an opening. With the heads cut off both organizations—and he knew he'd have to count his own in that scenario—the asshole would move in and make the remaining keepers of the Portals offers they could not refuse.
Leonov didn't actually need to control either organization. All he needed were the Portals. Shut down or up-and-running made little difference just so long as he controlled all access points. In that, Knutr might have made a bad choice in thinking he could manipulate the psychopath by dangling Portal operation as incentive to keep him alive. There were too many players, too many imponderables, too many what-ifs.
There had to be a way to manipulate the situation. He picked up the phone and barked, "Kol, get me research." It was time to put the white coats to work. He needed answers ... now.
****
Wolf set the cell phone on the kitchen counter. Caitlin looked up, curious.
"Who was that?"
"Your father." He pressed his palms into the edge of the Formica, leaving sharp ridges on the tough skin. He kept his face a mask and prayed the tremors wouldn't return, but the force of the link vibrated uncontrollably in his gut. He knew Caitlin felt it too, knew what—who—was coming. Unlike him, she looked ... not exactly anxious. She had that anticipation children wore just before opening a gift. The problem was—this gift was going to explode in all their faces.
Caitlin pushed away from the table and circled to stand just behind him, but quickly moved off.
"We can't get away from it, can we?" That was for his benefit. She absorbed the energies like a sponge, magnifying, augmenting, while his innards felt like they'd been set to puree. He wondered what Trey felt. Was it the same or different? He blushed scarlet at the thoughts whirling through his head, the remembered sense of oneness, the thrill... It hadn't been real, had it? It had been a figment, her fantasy, not his. But the fingers squeezing in unison 'til she gasped and groaned in ecstasy, the shared release and pumping of blood and life force had taken him to a time and space where sensation and pleasure ruled all.
"Are you going to be all right, Wolf?" Her quick glance and furrowed brow gave him some assurance that he still mattered. But would it be enough?
He moved toward the back door. "I've got to check on something." She mouthed 'okay' and reached for her cup of coffee, now cooled to barely drinkable. He headed to the bank overlooking Still Pond.
The sun had long since set behind the trees lining the bank. The sky to the west lay leaden and unforgiving. He'd forgotten to check the weather forecast. It felt like a storm brewing, though from what direction he couldn't tell. Something in his gut warned that the quiet mirror finish to the inlet would soon change. He angled down the gradual slope, wishing he'd thrown a jacket on, but he only planned on a quick look to make sure everything was in place—just in case. He had position and the advantage, but he was taking no chances.
Jake's small cabin cruiser lay quietly at its mooring. He walked to the overturned Zodiac dinghy secured to a log on the graveled beach. The oars lay crisscrossed against the raft. He calculated the amount of time it would take to work d
own the bank, free the dinghy, get it in the water, then row out to the motorboat, and start the engine. His brain calculated 'too damn long'.
He mumbled, "Shit," and righted the Zodiac with an effort. Though only a two-man version it still had weight. He found the oar mounts and latched them into position. Jake had a jury-rigged davit system for the cruiser but he decided there wouldn't be time to secure the Zodiac to it. He checked the duffle bag, happy that Jake had remembered the hundred foot nylon line. They'd tow the Zodiac if they could. If, as he suspected, speed was necessary, he would cut it loose. They wouldn't be coming back here in any case.
He didn't like that Jake had insisted on this meeting. While he could agree in principal that they had no chance in hell of getting Kieran away from Knutr and the Mafiya without serious backup, throwing a drug-addled killer into the mix—especially one suffering from the same powerful forces that afflicted himself and Caitlin—was only asking for disaster.
Satisfied that all was in order, he did a quick survey of the inlet. Nothing seemed out of place and that concerned him. Although it had been generations since he'd last seen a real battle, his instincts still dictated caution. He smelled something on the wind, sensed movement where there was none—and he was seldom wrong. Whether or not Trey brought himself or an army, the result would be the same. He was taking Caitlin and making a run for it. He would find his men, somehow, somewhere, and they would put their world to rights. Together. And she would forget...
He paused at the top of the slope, knowing in his heart that forgiveness would come slow if at all. He would bear her hate to keep her safe. He had no other choice. He pulled the Glock from its nesting spot along his spine and chambered a round.
****
"Unit one's in position, two's moving..."
"What's your name, girl?"
The girl looked at Gunnarr with surprise. Few bothered with her name. 'Yo bitch' or worse usually sufficed. She gulped out, "Mary Alice," before she could come up with a smart-ass reply.