by Sandy James
“I’ll go alone,” she said, stepping around Johann.
He grabbed her hand as she started to follow Sergei back down the hall. “You really want to see him alone?”
“I—I have to. I can’t explain it. Trust me. Please?”
A resigned sigh slipped from his lips. “I’ll be right here. If you need me, just call.”
She gaped at his hand clasping hers, wondering for an exhilarating moment whether he felt something for her beyond his obligation as Sentinel. That notion was quickly dismissed. Johann couldn’t possibly feel for her what she wished he felt. What had passed between them was surely nothing more to him than lust. Her heart was the only one on the line.
“I won’t need you, Joeman,” she whispered to keep Sergei from hearing. “I’m Fire. Remember? I can handle this.” She squeezed his hand before letting go.
He gave her a derisive snort, folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall. “Right here, Megan. I’ll be right here.”
His words gave her the strength she needed. He’d been her savior before, and if she needed him, he’d always be there.
She brushed her fingers over his arm. “Thank you.”
Small sparks flew from her fingertips, and his eyes widened at the telling sign. She immediately tucked her fingers into her palm, hoping he wouldn’t think she was throwing those sparks for him. Even if she was. She’d already moved away when she realized Johann hadn’t flinched at the heat her fingers had created against his skin.
She followed Sergei down the hall. He opened the door and nodded at the dressing room. Maksim Popov was laying his black satin and velvet jacket on the back of a makeup table’s tall chair.
Who does he think he is? Elvis?
When she hesitated, Sergei gave her a small push between her shoulder blades. His touch made her shiver, but she stiffened her spine and stepped inside. He closed the door behind her.
Max was dressed in black leather pants that hugged his body like a second skin. He was shrugging out of his sweat-soaked black shirt, and she couldn’t help but admire the man’s muscular chest and arms. His olive skin was so dark, he might have been Arab. A large patch of thick, dark hair spread over his chest to taper into a thin line that disappeared below the waistband of his pants.
Megan had a sudden flash of the dichotomy of the two men who haunted her. Johann and Max. Light and dark. Good and evil.
Dropping the shirt on the chair, he smiled at her, a smile so cold she was amazed his breath wasn’t coming in small, wintry clouds. “Ah, dorogoy. You have come to me, da? As I hoped.”
He made no move to grab his clean shirt, as if he thought his body would be irresistible to her—as if he thought he was nearly as attractive as Johann Herrmann.
She almost rolled her eyes before she caught herself. “Yeah, well… How often does a girl get an invitation from a celebrity?” Apprehension clogged her throat, making her words a bit raspy. She scanned the room, sizing up potential threats and seeking escape routes.
“Is that why you’ve come? To get a taste of fame? Or do you want something more of me?” Every word dripped sexuality as they rolled of his tongue in that thick Russian accent.
Megan’s stomach churned. How many girls had fallen for that smooth voice, that dark, handsome face? Girls too young to fight his powerful draw. She steeled her mind against him even as she felt his thoughts seeping into hers.
Fire. I am Fire.
“You are Fire. And you are mine,” Max’s voice answered in her thoughts.
She suddenly wanted to run as her nightmares swirled around her like specters.
“I still frighten you,” he said as his gaze blatantly raked her body.
She diligently tried to hide her fear. Her heart was beating so hard, he could probably hear it.
Yes, she was afraid, but she would follow this through to the bitter end.
A smug smile formed on his lips.
She lifted her chin even as her voice trembled. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Then why do you stand with your back to the door and your hand on the doorknob?”
She glanced behind her, then her cheeks burned. She pulled her hand away and took one small step forward.
He took three to stand closer to her. With a sweep of his arm, Max indicated the couch.
After a short hesitation, she sat. She’d be damned if she’d let him know just how rattled she was. But the dreams were still there, nudging at her, stoking her fear higher.
He retreated to lean against the makeup table. “You wish to ask me questions. Curiosity has brought you here.”
She cocked her head. “How did you know that?”
“Because, dorogoy, it rises from you like a glow. As does your sensuality.”
For fuck’s sake, the guy was getting a hard-on that his tight leather pants did little to hide. Shouldn’t he at least be embarrassed? “I didn’t come here to be another groupie.”
His chuckle was forced. “Then ask me your questions, so we may turn to more…pleasurable pursuits.”
In your wildest dreams, asshole. “Did you know there are some girls who were murdered after they saw one of your concerts? They disappeared the same night as they were here, actually.” Her voice was as confident and clear as she could manage.
“Ah, so your curiosity is about these girls. Da,” he said with a nod, “I have heard of them and their unfortunate fate. Such a waste of young lives.”
“Did you meet any of them?”
“I do not remember. Sergei chooses a few fans to meet me after each show. It is good for publicity. Perhaps one of those fans became one of the unfortunate girls. Or perhaps all four did. I do not know.”
Megan didn’t believe a word of it. He remembered each and every one of those girls because he’d killed them. About to go cop on him and grill him like a skel, she froze. Max was there, in her thoughts, making her control crack.
No. No, I won’t let you into my head.
“Ah, but I am already in.” He crooked his finger at her.
Rising on trembling legs, she tried to resist Max’s pull. She was strong. She could fight.
“Come to me.”
She took a stumbling step toward him. Then another. And another.
He raised her chin with his finger, giving her a smile so full of superiority and victory she wanted to spit in his face. “Sweet Megan. There is no need to fear me. All I want is a taste. Just a simple taste.” His lips settled on hers.
No!
Every ounce of her energy was drawn from her body, pouring into his. This had to be how Ashley Douglass felt right before she died.
Max had sucked the life right out of her.
* * *
Johann had been leaning against the wall, promising himself he’d only wait another few minutes to charge into Max’s room when his mind exploded with Megan’s scream. He ran for the dressing room door. If the damn thing hadn’t opened immediately, he would have gone right through it. When he saw her in Maksim Popov’s arms, he skidded to a stop.
She was kissing the man.
And Max was half-naked.
Johann tried to make sense of what he was seeing, but jealousy flooded his mind and silenced his Sentinel training. All he knew was that Megan was kissing Max and not bursting into flames. How had she been screaming?
It wasn’t until her knees buckled that he finally understood.
She was hurt.
Max released his hold on her and stepped back.
Johann caught her before she hit the floor.
Sweeping her into his arms, his heart skipped a beat at her sickly appearance. Her face was as white as a freshly washed sheet. There wasn’t a bit of tension in her body. He might as well have been holding a rag doll.
Johan
n leveled a hard stare. “I’ll kill you for this.”
Max’s responding laugh was so evil, the hair on the back of Johann’s neck bristled, sending a cold dread running through his veins.
“You may try—as many others have—but you will not succeed. She is mine now.”
God, how he wanted to run his sword through the singer’s black heart. Not only because he was now certain Max was the right hand of whatever threat they faced, but because he’d dared to touch Megan.
“I know who you are, you bastard. And you’re dead. The next time you see my face, it’ll be the last thing you see on this Earth.”
Johann turned and strode out the door, cradling Megan in his arms.
* * *
Johann was close to calling out to Freya for help. Megan still looked pale and she hadn’t awakened.
The whole drive back to the condo, he had to resist the urge to change course and head to an emergency room. Her pulse and respiration were normal. What could he possibly tell a doctor about what had happened to her? They’d probably think he’d slipped her a roofie or gotten her drunk.
A frantic phone call to Avalon had probably laid all his cards on the table. The MacKays would have no doubt about his feelings for Megan. Artair and then Rebecca had been anxious, but both told him to give her a little time to recover. Rebecca would have Rhiannon pop her to Chicago if Megan didn’t wake up soon. Johann doubted either of them missed the concern in his voice. He’d be in for a long and humiliating lecture the next time their paths crossed.
Amazons got hurt. Sentinels weren’t supposed to be basket cases when it happened.
For all appearances, Fire was simply enjoying a restorative nap. Megan’s breathing was slow and rhythmic, her skin warm but not overly so. He’d pressed his fingers to her slim throat to check her pulse so many times, he’d lost count. The beat was always strong and steady. This was a supernatural problem, not a human illness. She was an Amazon. She would recover.
She had to recover.
If only Sarita was close. Water could heal most of her sisters’ injuries. As he sat at Megan’s bedside, Johann checked Sarita’s position on his GPS, tracking the implants each Amazon had imbedded in their left hip. Sarita was still in Mexico, not nearly close enough to do Megan any good—at least not unless he called one of the goddesses to flash her to Chicago.
If Megan didn’t wake up soon, he would summon Freya. Or Rhiannon. Or both of them.
Questions gnawed at him, as did his anger over seeing Megan in the singer’s arms. What had Max done to her? What would have happened if Johann hadn’t barged in on them? And why had he clearly heard her screams when she shouldn’t have been able to cry out?
He brushed the back of his knuckles against her soft cheek. “Megan, c’mon. Wake up, baby.” Smoothing the bangs away from her face, he leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I need you. Come back to me.”
He didn’t honestly care that she’d been kissing Max, at least not while he was worried about her health. Obviously, she hadn’t known what would happen when she kissed the man, and he wanted to believe Max had forced her.
Shit, what if that was what happened with the dead girls? Had that bastard somehow sucked the life right out of them, turning them into shriveled pieces of flesh? Johann’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t lose Megan. Not now. Not when he needed her.
“Megan, baby. Please wake up.”
When he was entirely convinced he’d have to call for Freya, Megan’s eyes fluttered open. She blinked a few times, looking right through him. Long moments passed before her face regained some color and her gaze finally appeared focused. “What happened?”
“You don’t remember?” It was hard not to want to grab her up in his arms and hug the breath right out of her. No wonder Sentinels weren’t supposed to fall in love with any of the Amazons. Just seeing her in the dead faint had frightened a good decade off his life.
How was he supposed to send her into dangerous situations now?
Why hadn’t Freya warned him when she’d given him Apollo’s gift and spoken so freely of Johann’s love for her Amazon? Why hadn’t Artair warned him? Hell, the man was married to Earth. How could Artair possibly send Rebecca into a fight if he felt about his wife the way Johann felt about Megan?
“I can’t fight him,” she blurted out, her eyes frightened and wild. “I—I can’t win this one.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Popov’s in my head. Whatever he asks, I do. I can’t stop myself. I can’t resist.”
He spoke before he thought. “Yeah, like kissing him”
She put both hands against his chest and tried to shove him away.
He didn’t budge. “Did you kiss him first, Megan? Was it just curiosity?”
Megan kicked at him with those strong legs and pushed him right off the bed.
He tumbled to the floor. After glaring up at her he got to his feet.
Grabbing a crumpled terrycloth robe from where it lay across the foot of the bed, she hurried to the bathroom and tried to slam the door in his face.
Johann blocked it with his shoulder and followed her inside.
She turned on the shower and jerked her shirt over her head. “You’re an asshole. You know that?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you, Joeman. A big, fat asshole.” Her camo pants puddled around her ankles, and she kicked them aside. Facing him in only a red bra and panties, she narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t fight him? The man was raping me in my own mind. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it! Not a damn thing! I feel so—so—dirty.”
He’d deserved a slap across the face. Shit, he deserved a solid kick to the groin. Maksim Popov was as good as dead. Didn’t matter when. Johann would kill him. Slowly and painfully. Johann would move heaven or earth to follow through on the deadly promise he’d made. The hatred was now stronger than the jealousy had ever been.
Megan’s cherry-tobacco scent filled his nostrils as she planted herself in front of him. Her eyes shot daggers. “Get out.”
Johann reached for her, and, surprisingly, she let herself be drawn into his embrace. “I’m sorry, Megan. I didn’t know.”
She rested her cheek against his shoulder, her hands pressed to his chest. Her breath caressed his neck. “He scares me.”
Those were probably the three hardest words Megan Feurer had ever uttered.
“I need you,” she said in a breathless whisper.
No, those were definitely the hardest.
“I’ll protect you.”
He squeezed her tighter against him, aware of every inch of where her body touched his. Her fingers stroked his chest in an almost absentminded fashion that rocked his world. The licentious thoughts shooting through his brain were so strong, he had no choice but to give them voice. “I want you.”
Megan lifted her head and gaped at him. “You do? Even after he…touched me? After I burned you? You still want me?”
Johann would have smiled had he possessed the ability to think about anything except being inside her, except sinking inside her body and losing himself in all of her softness and warmth. “God, yes. I want to put my hands in that gorgeous hair.” He flipped her ponytail then cupped her chin and rubbed his thumb against the fullness of her lower lip. “I want to kiss your lips.” His hand dropped to cover her breast. “I want to kiss this too.” With a prayer that Freya hadn’t been lying, he smoothed his hand down her flat belly. She didn’t resist and gasped when he touched between her legs, which had spread ever so much to allow him access. “And here. I want to kiss you here.”
Not wanting to shock her any more than he probably already had, he reluctantly moved his fingers back to her ponytail. He slowly tugged the tie loose, releasing that glorious red hair until it swirled around her shoulders. Then he buried his fingers in its silkiness a
nd pulled her head toward his, waiting for her to fight him. If she resisted…
But her tongue darted out to lick her lower lip, and he was lost.
He kissed her with all the love he held for her.
Drowning in her taste, her scent, he couldn’t keep his tongue from nudging her lips, demanding entry. Not only did her lips part for him, her tongue returned his insistency as sparks flew between them. Her arms threaded around his neck, and Megan pressed her breasts against his chest. The heat radiating from her could have started another Chicago fire.
Pulling her arms back, she fixed a frown on her moist lips. Her skin glowed red with heat as wisps of smoke rose around her shoulders. Then she whimpered and kissed him again, gliding her tongue across his. Small flames rose from her hands where they rested against his chest. His shirt smoldered as smoke swirled between them. Her body began to glow like the embers of a campfire.
When flames shot from her fingers, she gasped. “Go away, Johann. I’ll burn you.”
He was done playing games. He needed her, and she needed him. The time to dance around each other had ended. Johann jerked her hard against his chest as his mouth took possession of hers.
Sparks ignited between them, popping from her lips against his. With a rough nudge and a low growl from him, her mouth opened again. His tongue swept inside, stroking, probing and encouraging her response. Every one of her moans pushed him closer to the edge of control.
Megan melted against him as she looped her arms around his neck again.
Johann wrapped his body around her, not able to hold her as close as he desired. Splaying his fingers over her back, he let them slide down her body as he continued to pillage the sweet depths of her mouth. She was uninhibited, demanding more of the kiss and pressing herself against him as she slowly slid her leg up until her knee rested against his hip. Only then was she close enough to satisfy him. He covered her ass with his palms and tugged her firmly against his hips so she could feel his erection.