Drawing up his magik more, Eadan merely smiled. “You will permit me entrance.” There was a push to his voice. One he knew even supernaturals would have difficultly ignoring. It was why he made a good Shadow Agent. He didn’t generally need anyone else with him. Though, he had to admit he missed his new “brothers.” Roi would have punched his way into the warehouse. Wilson would have probably fallen through the roof by mistake. Jon would have watched it from a distance, through a scope on his sniper rifle, and Lukian would have simply raised a brow and demanded to be permitted in—no magik to his cause. Green was a different kind of Op. One who had surprised them all with a badass side. He’d probably concoct a potion to put the bouncer to sleep. That seemed like a science geek thing to do.
Green took some getting used to. Technically, he was Eadan’s brother-in-law now that he was mated to Melanie, Eadan’s only sibling. The man needed a medal for that. Melanie was a handful during the best of times. He couldn’t imagine any guy wanting to spend eternity with her.
Eadan waited as his magik trickled over the guy at the entrance. The bouncer nodded and stepped aside. Eadan couldn’t stop himself as he leaned and continued to push power over the man. “And the new entrance phrase is, you’re a dick.”
The man nodded. “I’m a dick.”
With a snort, Eadan continued into the warehouse. Sometimes being magik was way too fun.
The minute he fully crossed the threshold, the silence that had been outside vanished, replaced by loud pulsating music and an even louder crowd of people all gathered around something in the center. He pushed his way through the throng of sweaty bodies only to emerge near a ring set up in the center.
When he spotted the black skull flag erected at two points near the edges of the ring, he understood fully what he’d stumbled upon. An illegal underground fight ring. One that no doubt catered to the supernatural but wasn’t sanctioned. He’d attended several in his life. Each was seedier than the next and none ever led to anything good. Most were frequented by supernatural lowlifes out to make a fast buck. But in the end Eadan understood the fights had wealthy backers and connections in places good people just didn’t end up.
There had been a rash of people vanishing who had been associated with the fights and the lifestyle. If Krauss and Molyneux and whoever the hell else they were in bed with had their hands in this too, then Eadan wasn’t surprised. They were synonymous with problems. What Eadan couldn’t wrap his mind around was why the general had sent him alone. If this did tie back to Krauss, then why not include the I-Ops?
Nothing made sense.
All he was sure of was the warehouse smelled like sweat and beer.
A leggy blonde girl held up a sign with the number two on it. The bikini she wore barely covered anything. There was a time she might have been hot, but she looked like she’d been ridden hard. Life hadn’t been kind to that one.
The men around him whistled and carried on like fools, each shouting disgusting things at the woman. She smiled and walked with more of a sway to her hips. Shaking his head, Eadan pulled his focus from her and onto the men in the corners of the ring. Cautiously, he let his magik up enough to scan them, but ran into a bit of resistance. That was strange. Sure, the power he’d sensed before entering was old and powerful, but Eadan was no magikal lightweight. Far from it. Yet he had to strain to do a task that would normally be second nature.
“Show it off, Candy!” a man shouted to the woman in the ring.
Eadan kept going, making his way past the ring area, toward the behind the scenes area. It took more magik than it should have to get the guys guarding the area to turn and look away at the same time. When they did, Eadan strolled through the corridor. The stench of the warehouse lifted. He continued on, curious as to why he’d been led in this direction. Two of the rooms he walked by had open doors. In one he saw a guy getting a blowjob from not one but two women, and in the other he watched men sitting around a table, snorting something or other.
Whatever it was had to be stronger than drugs you could get on the street. Those did nothing for a supernatural.
As Eadan neared the last room, he found its door closed. The urge to enter nearly consumed him. Putting his hand to the doorknob, he hesitated, listening with both his ears and his magik for what might be behind it. He heard nothing that gave him concern. He twisted the knob and opened the door slowly.
There she was. Inara, standing, naked from the waist up, her back to him, her front to an old sink basin. She covered herself from his view, her brilliantly green gaze staring wide at him in the mirror reflection. His mind said turn around and give her privacy. The rest of him forgot to take direction from his brain and remained in place.
He’d thought his reaction to her picture was strong. Seeing her in the flesh—a whole lot of flesh—nearly took him to his knees.
Air seemed to be resistant to entering his lungs. But the blood sure pooled to his cock, hardening it, making his entire body alive with desire and raw need.
Her lips were full and slightly opened in a gasp. “Holy shit! You’re real?”
He couldn’t seem to form a sentence to save his life. He merely nodded.
She yanked an old t-shirt over her head and spun around, her look of surprise turning to annoyance. “Knock much, ass—” She launched into a sneezing fit. When she stopped, she blinked up at him. “Ah crap, a magik?”
She sneezed again.
“W-what?”
Chapter Five
Inara glared at the blond guy who had barged in on her. He just stood there, managing to look sexy and clueless all at once. Normally, she’d have been pissed. She found herself struggling to stay in character to appear mad. She actually wanted to run and touch him, make sure she wasn’t dreaming and he was really there.
More important, she wanted to feel his lips on hers.
His lips on mine? What the hell? Stop. Stranger danger, stupid.
Except he wasn’t a stranger to her. Not really. She’d “known” him all her life. Her sketchpad was littered with drawings of him. She saw him when she closed her eyes at night and she’d see him when the times got really hard. His image would come to mind and just make her feel more at ease. She thought she’d invented some sort of guardian angel in her mind. Having him standing before her said otherwise.
The man was tall. Pushing six foot three or better. While he had a slender build he was toned, sinewy, like he was a badass without the bulk. His eyes were burned into her memory. Blue-gray. And his lips. Full. Sensual. As if tempting her to run over and kiss them.
She nearly did.
The hair. It was unlike any she’d seen on a guy. Long, but pulled back, and white-blond. She knew a lot of women who would kill for hair like that. Somehow, even with the hair, the guy screamed masculine. Yes, he was certainly all male. As she raked her gaze over his fitted black shirt and dark jeans, she found herself focusing on his groin. From the looks of it, seeing her topless had pleased him.
Greatly.
Heat flashed over her. She took a small step back and eyed him more. “W-who are you? How is it I’ve seen you in my head? And what do you want?”
He seemed to watch her silently for what felt like hours. It was more like seconds. “You.”
She blinked several times, sure she’d heard him wrong. “What?”
“I want you,” he said, as if in a trance. He shook his head. “I’m here for you. To take you back to PSI.”
And your luck just ran out, she thought quickly.
Alarm bells went off. Sexy guy was part of the men in black? A fit of sneezing hit her again. Dammit. She’d do that for a few more minutes at least, until she was used to his scent.
She looked back at him in time to see two men sneaking up behind him. While her brain said let them have him and run, her heart wasn’t agreeing. It had no place in the argument, but hell if it wasn’t winning the debate. She was connected to this man somehow. She understood that much. And while she didn’t know if he was trustworthy o
r not, she knew she didn’t want him hurt. Plus, the lips on lips thought was still weighing on her.
“Behind you!” she managed, just as they rammed an electric rod into his back and sent enough jolts through him to make his entire body flail as he crashed to the floor.
Somehow, he managed to get to his feet at an insane rate of speed. He caught the fist of one of the men and held it, looking almost amused at their attempts at taking him down. He kicked out at another, his long, muscular legs connecting with their target. He made fighting look like a sensual dance, rather than a dirty street brawl.
A third man rushed through the open door. Inara reacted, grabbing an apple from the bowl of fruit and throwing it. Her aim was true and she threw with more force than she thought she had in her. The apple hit its mark—the man’s forehead. He went down hard.
Mr. Sketchpad-come-to-life glanced at the downed man and her, his eyes widening. He blocked another punch and twisted, catching the electric prod with one hand and head-butting the man holding the rod out. He twisted the rod and used it against the man, sending him flying backward into the hallway. Additional men converged on them and Inara found herself darting forward to assist.
She wasn’t exactly helpless. Jimmy had taught her things and others just came naturally. She was about to jump onto the back of one of the attackers when another rammed the electric prod he was holding into her side. She couldn’t stop the scream that tore free from her.
The man from her drawings looked to her, worry on his face. It cost him dearly as three men rammed rods into him, sending so much power through him that he had to be dead.
Panic swept through her. She rushed at him, never thinking about the men with the electric rod. They tapped her with it and extreme pain followed by darkness was all she felt.
Inara came to, unsure how much time had passed. She had the feeling she’d been out a while from the way her body ached. Not to mention she was now starving again and should have been fuller from the fruit and granola bar she’d downed.
Darkness surrounded her. For a moment, she worried she’d lost her sight. It took her a second to realize the room she was in was dark. Almost too dark to see. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out metal walls with grooves in them. The more she saw the more she realized she was in a container and she wasn’t alone.
Blond guy!
He was slumped against the back corner. He looked as if the two thugs had taken turns beating the shit out of him while he was out cold. Her heart thumped madly in her chest as she raced over to him. A thick chain connected from one wrist shackle to the next on him.
She’d not been shackled.
Why?
And who had them?
It took her a bit to gather her emotions and concentrate on what was happening. She touched the man’s head and came away with blood from near his temple. She stiffened. He was real. She couldn’t get over the knowledge. For so long he’d been her private thought—her way to cope with any situation. All along he was a real person. She didn’t understand why his image was burned into her brain or why she’d been compelled to put his face to paper. The strangest part was how protective of the drawings she was. They were hers and no one was allowed to touch them.
Ever.
Thankfully, they were still hidden away.
You have the real thing lying before you.
And she did. She touched him again, this time on his upper chest. Hot damn, the man was rock hard. Closing her eyes tight, she swallowed hard, trying to get herself to think about anything other than sex. She was locked in a container that looked like something that would be pulled by a train, and she was thinking about sex.
Look at him and try not to think about it.
Dammit. Her inner voice was annoying. In its defense, he was exceptionally good looking. She’d seen runway models who were uglier. And the hair. So much of it. She wondered what it would be like if he was above her, his hair falling down, framing them in an intimate moment.
Kiss him now. He’ll never know.
She grunted and chastised her inner voice for being a creepy pervert.
Her inner thighs tingled with excitement. Right be damned. The man who was literally from her dreams was before her. She traced her hand over his chest more. Did he have any fat on him? As Inara’s hand moved down to the top of his jeans, she had a come-to-the-gods moment and pulled it away. It was harder to do than it should have been.
He stirred.
There was a slight buzz to the air around her. For a moment, she assumed it was coming from the blond guy. When she realized it was emanating from her, she gasped and nearly pulled away from the man. The pulsing need to touch him again won out. She laid her hands on him, palms over his upper chest and the buzz around her grew. It consumed her arms first, moving through her torso and then downward. Gasping for breaths, she panted as she kept her hands on the man.
She blinked, sure her mind was playing tricks on her as the gash on his head closed over. The only sign there had been a cut at all was the leftover blood. She yanked her hands away from him, unsure exactly what had happened between them.
He stirred and reached out for her, catching her hands in his. She yelped. He tugged, pulling her closer. The strange buzzing intensified even more. It sounded like hundreds of bees were around them when in reality there were none to be seen.
He drew her down more, his eyes still closed, his full lips parting. Inara tried to pull free but not that hard. She was sort of pleased to be this close to him. His breath skated over her lips and she bit her inner cheek in an attempt to bring her rational mind around to thinking for her again in place of her hormones.
Sadly, her hormones won out.
This man was sexy in a way that made her ovaries scream at her to stop thinking at all and jump his bones. Alarmed by the raw need to have him, she managed to resist. It was hard.
Very hard.
Especially when he moaned her name out in a hushed whisper. The way he said it was so incredibly erotic that her nipples responded, hardening, scraping against the thin material of her t-shirt.
Shit. If he could do this to her when he was out like a light, what could he do to her awake? She nearly moaned as well at the thought. “M-Mister, please wake up before I give in and pet something you might not want me petting.”
“Hmm?” he mumbled as his blue-gray eyes snapped opened. “Inara!”
“Shh, I’m right here. I’m fine.” She hid her smile even though she should have been freaked he knew her name. He was awake. That had to be good. She had to tug to get her hands free from his, not that she truly wanted to be released. It just seemed like the right thing to do, considering everything.
He sat up slowly and as best he could with his hands bound, though the chain did have a good amount of give. She wondered what the purpose of it was. He could still move around. His skin, where the shackles lay, was red as if he was allergic to them.
He groaned and then shifted his weight up, sitting on his own. “What the hell happened?”
Inara had to force herself to stop staring at his lips. “You were so busy looking at my boobs that you missed the goons coming up behind you,” she snapped. Kissing him was what she’d wanted to do, but somehow she only managed to get catty with him. “You had the upper hand until you worried more about me than you.”
His gaze raked over her, settling on her covered chest. A silly, lopsided grin spread over his face. “Yeah, your breasts.”
She nearly smacked him, but was too happy to see him sitting up on his own to bother. “We have more important things to focus on here.”
“If you say so,” he said, still grinning at her chest. He shook his head slightly and then stiffened. “How long have we been in here?”
Inara debated on telling him her theory. “I think we’ve been here a while now.”
He was quiet for a bit. “I think you’re right.”
“Got a name?”
“Eadan.”
He brought his hands up
and touched the side of his head, where the blood had pooled. “Ouch.” He seemed confused, as if he was expecting an injury. She didn’t comment. No sense announcing something she didn’t fully understand and, really, who would believe a bunch of invisible bees showed up to save the day?
She slid even closer to him, their bodies touching. At least she’d finally stopped sneezing around him. “So, you’re magik?”
He tipped his head slightly. “I am, but how did you know that?”
She touched the tip of her nose. “I seem to have an allergy to magiks. They make me sneeze.”
His bright smile nearly stole her breath. Hot damn he was sexy, even beat up. “Magiks make you sneeze?”
She shrugged. “Yep.”
His lopsided grin made her heart flutter. “Ironic.”
“Why is that?”
“No reason. So, why does it make you sneeze?”
“Don’t know why. But I end up with sneezing fits that normally last an hour or two. Once I’m used to your scent, I don’t do it too much.”
“I have a scent?” he questioned, as he glanced around the container they were being held in. She strongly suspected he was trying to keep her calm while he looked for a way to escape.
“You do.” She sat on her bottom next to him. “Yours is different from other magiks. Yours is more of a mix of fresh air and mountaintops. I guess the best way to put it is you smell like nature.”
“That a good or bad thing?” He moved to his hands and knees and struggled a bit with being shackled as he stood. She stood too, using her body to help him keep his balance. From the looks of him, the goons had not only electrocuted him and beat the crap out of him, they’d more than likely electrocuted him again for good measure.
“It’s a good thing,” she admitted. “What did you do to piss these guys off so much?”
He was quiet a second and she got the sense he was trying to decide if he’d be honest or lie. She really hoped he picked option one.
He stood on his own and stared down at her. Man, he was tall. She wasn’t short for a woman, yet he towered over her. “I came here looking for you. I’m guessing they figured that out.”
Tactical Magik Page 5