by Laura Hall
I managed to squeeze words past my numb tongue, “I’m not afraid of you.”
His head bent toward mine, lips grazing my jaw and up to my ear. “I can smell your lie, just as I can smell your desire. Tell me, what good do you think would come of me taking you as you want so badly to be taken? You know that is all I can give you.”
“Pig,” I whispered.
His voice grew edged with savagery, “Not a pig. A monster trying to protect you from himself.”
I ground my teeth so hard my jaw cracked. “You’re the freaking king of mixed signals.”
The final inches between us vanished. He pinned me to the wall with his hips and captured my hands, dragging them over my head. It didn’t occur to me to be afraid—this was what I wanted. All of him.
And just in case I missed his message the first time around, his hips made a slow, erotic pivot. A few seconds, I saw stars.
“Is this a mixed signal?” he snarled.
My breath stuttered and died, while my charge spiked to a violent peak. The soles of my feet burned horribly, but the pain was welcome, clearing my head and dispelling the numbing effects of his glamour.
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” I whispered brokenly. “I don’t want to want you.”
The grip on my wrists loosened, his head dropping beside mine. His heavy breath stirred my hair. “Nor I you, mo spréach.”
A pang of pain hit deep in my chest. With the suddenness of all true epiphanies, I realized the one limit of Connor’s vast power: he could see every layer of my mind, but he’d lied about the other. He couldn’t see within my heart.
“Let me go,” I said softly, “and this time, I won’t come back.”
He stilled. Then, with slow, precise movements, he released me and stepped away.
Nine
I locked myself in one of the penthouse’s bedrooms, closed the curtains on the circus show of the Vegas Strip, and cried myself to sleep.
At some point, raised voices lifted me from disturbing dreams of bear claws, white-haired Fae, and my mother’s laughter. I heard Ethan and Katrina yelling, and Adam’s low, indistinct rejoinders. Declan’s dulcet tones finally broke in and the argument ended. Doors slammed.
I dozed and woke again as the bedroom door opened. “Leave me alone,” I mumbled, rolling over and shoving my face into a pillow. The bed depressed by my hip; Declan’s warm pulse cascaded over me. My voice muffled by bedding, I demanded, “How’d you get in?”
“Adam.”
I grunted, “Go away.”
He stroked hair away from my exposed cheek, his touch gentle. “Ethan’s a genius, developing those gloves. Adam’s jealous.”
I lifted my head, blinking until my vision adjusted. “What do you want, Declan?”
He sighed, retracting his hand to his lap. “I’ve been worried. The way you left . . .” He looked away, handsome features cut into weary lines. “Connor locked himself away, Adam wouldn’t come out of his lab, and Tabby was convinced you ran because of something she said.”
I wheezed out a humorless laugh. “She would.”
He went on like I hadn’t spoken, “All I could think about was if something happened to you, it would be my fault. I wasn’t fast enough to stop you. Or smart enough. Ethan simulated your scent in another area of the woods. I fell for it, let you slip away. He would have blamed me, too.”
I knew who he was, but didn’t—couldn’t—acknowledge it.
“Declan,” I whispered sadly and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. If Adam was right, and Declan thought of me as a shifter in his pack, it was no wonder he felt responsible for me. I settled for a simple, “It’s not your fault.”
His thumb stroked over my palm, a smile tugging at his lips. “Half-Fae, huh? That definitely explains some things. You know the Fae are unnaturally attractive, right?”
I narrowed my burning, puffy eyes. “That ship sailed.”
He grinned. “Definitely. I prefer my women with a little less chaos following them around.” I whacked him with my pillow, and finally, the pain inside me eased enough for me to laugh. His smile softened. “Can I make a weird request of you?”
“What?” I asked warily.
He shifted, ducking his chin. “Can I stay with you tonight? My, uh, alpha-urge is screaming at me to stay close to you. To protect you.”
I fought to keep the grin from my mouth. “Declan Thomas, are you asking me if I want to cuddle?”
He belted me with the pillow, which led to an impromptu throw-down. Given that he had a hundred pounds on me, I lost in record time. I didn’t really mind, though. Nor did I later mind the weight of him at my back, his arm tucked around me and his breath in my hair.
Declan held me the rest of the night, and it seemed he guarded more than my body, for I slept soundly and didn’t dream.
Knocking woke us with a jolt just after dawn. I huffed in annoyance and rolled over, while Declan called a gruff, “Come in!”
The door opened. I was facing the windows, so didn’t see the visitor. But I saw the splash of violet light against a dark wall. I squeezed my eyes closed, and for a moment, regretted not going underground with Lucian.
In a clipped tone, Ethan said, “Breakfast is waiting, and the SIU Special Agent-in-Charge will be here in twenty minutes. Fiona, I’ll leave your bag by the door.”
Said door slammed closed.
Declan tucked his nose into my neck and inhaled deeply. “He brings out my territorial urges,” he muttered.
I smacked the arm that lay heavily against my stomach. “Down, boy.” Chuckling, he rolled away from me and sprang lightly to his feet. Dropping my legs off the bed and sitting up, I asked haltingly, “Do you think it’s my Fae blood?”
He cocked his head at the abrupt shift in conversation, then smiled. “Maybe a little. But if you were a raging bitch, I wouldn’t like you just for your smell and looks.”
“Gee, thanks,” I deadpanned.
He winked and headed for the door. “Speaking of your smell, you’ve got time for a quick shower.”
My thrown pillow missed him by ten feet. He was still laughing as the door closed behind him.
After an experimental sniff that confirmed I was, in fact, in need of a shower, I fetched my bag and headed into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, I emerged clean and wet-haired, dressed all in black.
“About damned time,” said Katrina from her seat on the edge of the bed. At my pointed look, she added, “Too much testosterone out there. And I’m avoiding my boss.”
I smirked. “Nice to meet you, Agent Accosi.” I tugged on my gloves, wincing at the unnatural writhing of the fabric as it settled. “Anything I need to know?”
She frowned. “Besides the glaring contest between my cousin and the Western Prime? No. What happened after you disappeared with the vamp, anyway? His temper is off the hook right now.”
At this point, I was almost used to the painful squeezing in my ribcage. I sat beside her and picked nonexistent lint off my pants.
“The usual. I pushed his buttons, he pushed mine. I pushed too far and he backed off. There might have been an ultimatum.”
“I bet that went over well,” she said, uncharacteristically solemn. “You two have some freaky chemistry, that’s for sure.”
“More like cursed.”
“And so you went and had sex with his Alpha?”
I choked, horrified. “God, no. No! Is that what everyone thinks?”
She mock-punched my arm. “Nah, just messing with you. Ethan said you were both dressed, and Adam made a point to explain pack mentality.”
“Then why is Ethan mad at me?”
Katrina just shook her head. “I like you a lot, Fiona, but I’m starting to think I might give him the same advice I gave you.”
“What?” I murmured.
“Beautiful, but the surface will kill him.”
Ten
The bedroom door swung open on Mal. He glanced between us, registering my pale face and Katrina�
�s severe expression, and cleared his throat.
“Special Agent Whitaker is here. Everyone’s waiting.”
We stood. I took a deep breath, smoothing the hem of my shirt. Katrina touched my shoulder lightly and said, “No matter what happens, remember that I have your back. Just like old times.”
Flooded with gratitude, I whispered, “Thanks.”
She nodded crisply, squared her shoulders, and strode past Mal. As I neared him, he said softly, “I’m worried that regardless of the Prime’s wishes, the FBI is going to want to take you into custody.” He paused, sapphire light flaring briefly. “We can’t let that happen.”
I bit my tongue on reminding him that I hadn’t wanted to come here but had been outvoted. Instead, I squeezed his hand and told him, “No one’s going to stop me from finding Dad. If the gloves have to come off, so be it.”
His jaw clenched, then he nodded. “Okay, come on.”
We walked down a short hallway and into the penthouse’s living room. The drapes along the floor-to-ceiling windows were open, displaying the desert city, still flashing but subdued in the sunlight.
I paused to take stock of the room and its occupants, then followed my gut to the man standing a little apart, nearest a breakfast bar. Ethan’s dark eyes stayed on my face as I approached, then flared with humor as I commandeered the cup of coffee from his hands. I bumped his shoulder with mine as I turned to face the room.
“Fiona, good of you to join us,” said Connor in a low, indecipherable tone. “This is Special Agent Jackson Whitaker with SIU. He’s in charge of the Liberati investigation.”
Whitaker was short and wiry, with iron gray hair and sharp blue eyes, only a hue or two darker than Declan’s. His energy was distinctly shifter and feline, but I couldn’t pin down breed. It was something I hadn’t come into contact with before. Lynx or panther, maybe.
“Nice to meet you, Special Agent,” I said and took a sip of coffee.
He didn’t smile. “And you, Ms. Sullivan.”
“Fiona, please.”
His lips thinned. “Fiona. The Prime has brought me up to speed on your involvement in my case. I’m here to ask you to stand down.”
Coffee went down the wrong pipe and I coughed, nearly spewing hot liquid across the floor. Ethan relieved me of the mug and handed me a napkin. Over my bent head, he said, “There’s no law preventing laypersons from investigating missing persons cases. Fiona isn’t interested in the Liberati, only in finding her father.”
“Perhaps, but obstruction of justice is a real offense.”
“You can’t be serious,” I blurted. “I’m not obstructing anything.” I glanced at the man beside him. “Connor?”
He wouldn’t look at me, staring instead out the windows. “It’s beyond my control.”
“Jackson—” Katrina started.
“Agent Accosi, you’re suspended from duty effective now and facing review. I suggest you keep your thoughts to yourself.”
A thick, tense silence fell on the room.
Agent Whitaker continued curtly, “Ms. Sullivan, I’ll need you to come with me to a safe house outside the city. I would prefer it be of your own volition, but I have a team of agents waiting outside should it not be.”
Adam’s head whipped around in startlement. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
Whitaker’s mouth curled sourly. “I appreciate your input, Omega Gibbs, but I’m acting on orders from the Director of the FBI. Fiona Sullivan is to be immediately remanded into FBI protective custody.”
With those simple words, my worst nightmare came to life. The FBI wanted to contain me. Run tests and use me. Fear shivered down my spine, wriggled down my arms. I needed to escape. Now.
But as my panic spiked, and I gazed wildly around the room, I realized an immutable truth. I wasn’t a hero in a freaking action movie. And I couldn’t fly off the penthouse balcony unless Connor had a change of heart. If I pulled off my gloves, I would be risking the lives of everyone around me.
I couldn’t do it. Not even for my dad.
Beside me, Mal’s aura blazed brilliant blue. “No,” I choked out, grabbing his hand. “No.”
His agonized eyes found mine. “I can’t let them take you.”
Breathing shallowly, I looked across the room at Connor. He finally turned his head, dark emerald eyes meeting mine.
I trusted you, I thought at him. Why are you doing this?
My vision blackened.
When it cleared, Connor and I were alone in the room, standing face to face between the two couches. The furniture around us was blurred, the windows shining opaque white. All that remained of the others were denser-than-air pockets of space, pulsing faintly with their heartbeats.
I looked up at Connor. “Why?” I whispered.
“I need you to trust me a while longer,” he said fiercely. “In the last twenty-four hours, Liberati operatives have been sighted all over the city. Already, an FBI surveillance team has gone missing. They were following Rosie Young last night. Have you tried to locate her this morning?”
I shook my head, shame souring my tongue. I’d been too wrapped up in my personal drama to stay focused on Rosie.
Concentrating on her now, I found only darkness. “She’s gone,” I said needlessly.
“I’m not surprised. Our only lead is the team’s final communique, which was from Henderson, Nevada, about a half hour from here.”
I focused on Rosie and received a confusing jumble of images. A computer screen. A bottle of hairspray and a tube of lip gloss. Fluctuating shadows on a cement floor.
“W-why are you telling me this?” I stammered.
“The Liberati are planning an attack on the conference tonight. If the warehouse holding your father is in Henderson, there’s a chance it will be left with minimal surveillance. Go with Agent Whitaker, Fiona. I’ll send Ethan to break you from custody.”
Hope warred with alarm inside me. “You can’t send Ethan against a team of FBI agents! Are you trying to get him arrested? Killed?”
His jaw clenched. “Always, you question me. It’s maddening. I don’t give a fuck about Ethan’s life, but you care about him, do you not?”
“Yes,” I said quickly.
His irises spun to black, his winged aura flaring behind him. “We’ve run out of time. Will you put your faith in me this once?”
This once . . .
“Yes,” I whispered.
He surged forward, hauling me into his arms and burying his face in my neck. Fangs sank home, dragging a choked gasp from me, but the brief sting was almost immediately eclipsed by pleasure. Every pull of my blood into his mouth tugged deep in my body, until I was burning up. Until I burned for him.
With a low groan, Connor’s head reared back. My blood coated his fangs. Glistened on his lips. His tongue caught a drop at the corner of his mouth.
I felt no revulsion at the sight, having no illusions about who he was. Vampire. Ancient. Not a monster, as he thought of himself, but a predator among predators. And beneath the predator, a man. Brilliant and exacting. Proud. I trusted the vampire, but I trusted the man more.
He lifted his wrist to his mouth, tearing into it with fangs. I knew what was coming and understood. He needed to know where I was going, to tell Ethan where to find me.
I opened my mouth to receive his blood.
It was ambrosia, electric with power. Chocolate and wine, salt and spice. I sucked hard, each explosion of flavor on my tongue building my need for more. More. Small, urgent noises churned in my throat. I felt him swell and harden against my stomach. Yes. Yes.
“Ah, mo spréach, you are a vision. That’s enough.”
I mewled in protest as he gently pried his wrist from my mouth. Hanging limp in the embrace of his arm, I stared at him, panting with need, as he wiped my lower lip with a thumb.
“Be safe,” he whispered, dipping his head to place a soft kiss on my brow. “Find your father.”
The world spun, darkened, and imploded.
“She’s awake,” said a crisp male voice, unfamiliar and guarded.
“Are the cuffs secure?” asked a woman.
“Yeah. She’s not going anywhere.”
“She doesn’t look dangerous,” spoke a second man.
I opened my eyes and three faces swam into focus. Zeroing in on the youngest, a smooth-jawed werewolf, I said, “I am.”
He blinked, wide eyes darting to his fellow agents. The woman, a slim Emerald Mage, grinned tightly. “He’ll learn not to judge a book by its cover.”
I tried to sit up but only made it a few inches. Handcuffs secured both of my wrists to a loop near the base of a wicker headboard. “This isn’t necessary,” I said, yanking ineffectually. “I wasn’t being serious. I’m not going to hurt you guys.”
“Oh, I think it’s necessary,” said the third agent, a beefy werelion whose neck was the same circumference as his head. From his dour expression, no amount of my rusty charms were going to win the day.
I finally managed to squirm into a sitting position, my back against the headboard and my wrists pinned awkwardly beside me.
There were no windows in the room, which boasted peeling, off-white walls and dingy carpet that used to be cream. Two doors sat on the facing wall, one presumably leading to a bathroom or closet and the other to the remainder of the house. The only other furniture was a metal folding chair beside the stripped bed.
Come on, Ethan. I focused on the mage and was rewarded with a vision of him, Mal, and Katrina in the car, driving fast on a suburban street. God willing, they were minutes away.
“What time is it?” I asked.
The mage glanced at her watch. “You’ve been out most the day. It’s nearing four.”
My eyes widened in disbelief, then narrowed in annoyance. Clearly Connor had slipped me knockout juice along with his blood.
“Can you really make lightning?” asked the young one.