She closed her eyes against her own melting body—the clenching of the tight muscles in her feminine channel, the heated pulse and flip of her stomach. She betrayed herself—everything she was and believed in—for this man. It made no sense, but she was too tired to figure it out. "You're a dictator. Why in the world would you think for one moment—even one—that someone like me with a need for control would fit with a personality like yours? You take control, you insist on your way. I'd drive you even more nuts than you'd drive me. We'd end up hating one another."
"I don't dictate other than in matters of safety. And someone needs to do that for your protection."
She peeped out from under her lashes to see if he'd gone up in flames for that lie. "Even you, Mr. No Expression, can't keep a straight face. It's a wonder lightning didn't strike you dead. You're a dictator. You want every little thing your way."
"Only with you."
"I'll ask Nikitin sometime if that's the truth."
Something dangerous swirled in the depths of his eyes. "You stay far away from that man. I mean it, Joley."
She started to sit, anger sweeping through her, but his heavy arm simply dropped across her, holding her down. Joley suppressed the childish urge to bite him. "I'm not being soothed here. I thought you weren't going to make me crazy. I think you made my point for me."
"I don't particularly give a damn if you get mad, just for once in your life listen to someone who knows more than you do. Nikitin is dangerous, particularly to you, so stay far away from him. You don't like him, so there's no reason for your childish defiance."
Joley studied his face. Something wasn't quite right, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "Now you're deliberately provoking me. Why? I wonder." She reached up a hand and slid her fingers over his face, tracing the lines and shaping the bones.
He turned his face to press his mouth against her palm in a slow, burning kiss. Her entire body clenched, the demand urgent. Every nerve ending flared to life. Deliberately, his gaze holding hers, he lapped over his mark with his tongue, a long, slow lick that stole her breath as she felt it deep inside her, in her most feminine core. His tongue drew a lazy circle, and a moan escaped her throat. Her body was on fire, damp and needy, the pressure building as if his tongue was buried between her legs. She felt hot and dizzy, unable even to lift her head in protest. She couldn't think with the pleasure bursting through her.
He stroked again with his tongue, made the same circles until the throbbing between her legs built and built. He isn't doing anything but touching his tongue to my palm. The thought was terrifying. She was close to an orgasm, feeling his tongue on her clit rather than on her palm. How? She and her sisters had gifts, but to her knowledge, none of them had ever experienced anything like this. She didn't understand it, or how Ilya could possibly be the one to take over her body when she was always the one in control. When she was with him, her body melted, gave itself to him like a sacrifice, and there seemed little she could do to prevent it.
"There's no giving you up," he murmured against her palm. "This says you belong to me, and me to you."
Mutely she shook her head. Or maybe it wasn't mutely, maybe she was whimpering her denial. She had been so needy for so long, her body craving his to the point that she'd thrown herself at him in the hopes of ridding herself of the obsession. Now he was so close, larger than life, dominating her personal space, the scent and heat of him surrounding her. His melody suddenly took on dark erotic notes that tugged at her nipples until they were pebble-hard. Sensual notes throbbed and pulsed and moaned, licking over her skin and setting her on fire.
"You're mine," he insisted. Keeping his gaze locked with hers, he once more bent his head to the center of her palm.
The brush of his lips sent streaks of fire rippling through the wall of muscles until she nearly spasmed with an orgasm. She was that close—so close—and she wanted more. She pressed her palm against his mouth, a low moan escaping.
His aura suddenly expanded, the darker colors swirling around her like a cloak, enveloping her colors of purple and iridescent pink and vivid orange, the jeweled tones that represented her. His darker colors bled into hers, mixing and swirling until she could feel a thousand fingers brushing over her skin, tongues lapping at her nipples and between her legs.
And then he bit down right in the center of her palm. She heard herself scream as her body convulsed, as pleasure burst through her. Her orgasm was strong and long, rippling through her from head to toe, a bright blast of rockets that sent colors and musical notes scattering like gems around her head and bursting behind her eyes.
Ilya held her to him, closing her fingers around her palm to make a fist, holding it against his heart while she fought for breath and control. He had claimed her body for his own, showed her that he could own her—he did own her—and she couldn't go back. She looked up at him with a mixture of terror and awe.
"What did you do?"
He kissed her forehead. "Lie down and go to sleep now." She looked so confused, beautiful and a little desperate that he gathered her closer. "My gifts are a little different from yours and your siblings."
She drew in her breath and tried to gather her scattered wits about her. If he could make her body explode just by kissing her palm, what the hell was going to happen to her if he ever decided he was going to make love to her? "Ilya, don't you think that's a little scary?"
"Only if you decide to retaliate."
"Could I?" She opened her fingers and looked at her palm.
He caught her hand. "Don't even think about it, because I swear, if you try anything, I'll strip you down to bare skin and you'll be under me all night. I came here to get you to sleep. Now go to sleep."
There was steel in his voice, but she caught the uneasiness in his eyes. He wasn't as nearly in control of the situation as he wanted her to believe and that gave her some satisfaction. She let her breath out and lay down again. "Soothe me. You said you could. And right now, I'm not feeling soothed." On fire maybe, her body still rippling with aftershocks, and the sexual tension slowly draining away, but she wasn't soothed by a long shot.
He stroked caresses over her hair. "Go to sleep, Joley. Just let yourself relax. You should learn meditation."
She scowled at him. "I know how to meditate. I've got things on my mind."
Things like a man giving her the orgasm to end all orgasms by teasing her palm. That just wasn't right. And could she really do the same thing back? She'd like to give it a try, but knew there was no handling the consequences. She wasn't sure of him yet—not yet.
Things like young girls disappearing with members of her band—well, not the band, but her crew. And the poor mother who had been dragged away from the van when was only trying to get answers. She must have been desperate.
"You're sighing. I'm considering stronger measures than I've already taken."
She didn't want to think what those measures might be. In any case his hand continued to brush back her hair, and the feel of it was almost mesmerizing. His voice had dropped another octave and came out a husky whisper, the sound sliding into and through her body like the sound of a beautiful musical instrument. And this time, her body responded by relaxing. She didn't question it, she was too tired.
"I don't want you to worry about anything right now except going to sleep," he said.
"I can't help thinking about that poor woman and how upset she must be, not knowing where her daughter is," Joley admitted, turning on her side and curling up. She was exhausted, and for the first time in a long while, in spite of his presence—or because of it—tension began to drain from her body. "I need to talk to Dean, and then both of us should go to the police and at least tell them what we know. We may have been the last people to see her."
"Let me handle this, Joley. I'll question your crew and make a report to the police."
"I'm firing him if he dared invite that child to a party. Her poor mother."
His hand moved over the back of her head, strokin
g silky strands. "I'll find her. You stay out of it. It could be a very dangerous situation. Tell me about the man who was with her. Dean. What's his last name?"
"Walters. Dean Walters. And he had another member of the crew with him. Funny," she mused, "I used to know them all by name. I even knew their families. The same crew always stayed with us in the early days, but a couple of years ago some just up and quit. Now nothing is the same. Jerry had to tell me his last name was Walters."
There was a small silence broken by the sound of cars on the highway. "What happened a couple of years ago to break up your crew?"
"I don't know." She turned slightly to look over her shoulder. "I don't know. That's a good question. Everyone seemed happy enough, but then there were all the parties and Tish got fed up with Logan and walked out on us. Maybe she was the glue that held us all together. One by one, the old crew, the soundmen and the roadies who always traveled with us just up and quit. They didn't show up for work." She snuggled back into the coolness of her pillow. "Since then I don't bother so much with learning who they all are because we have a big turnover."
"Is that common?"
"It wasn't, but it seems to be now. Traveling is always hard on families. I didn't think our group would ever break up. We treated them like family and paid very well, but drugs and alcohol take their toll on everyone. And after Tish left, we all were depressed. It was hard to keep going."
"Tish was Logan's girlfriend?"
"Wife. They were married, and still are, although we don't talk about it. Logan and Tish went to school with Rick, Leo and Denny. Brian was in a private school, but he spent summers with them. When they formed a band, Tish did their website, got their bookings and sold their CDs. I heard them play at the Caspar Inn when I was just out of high school. I talked with Tish for a long time that night and ended up giving her a recording of my voice. She was the one who brought us all together. I loved their sound and they loved mine. The road crew were friends of theirs from school as well. We all learned the business together."
She yawned. Her eyelids were suddenly very heavy, and it was too difficult to keep her eyes open, so she curled deeper under the comforter he pulled up over her. His fingers eased the knots in the nape of her neck.
"Has Walters been traveling with your band the last two years?"
"Jerry would know. He handles everything on the road, but I've seen him often, at least enough that I recognize him and wave. He's never made an effort to talk to me, but then I haven't really talked to any of the crew other than the sound crew. And I don't know most of them very well anymore."
"You aren't having much fun performing, are you? Why do you keep doing it?"
"I love to perform. I love the energy of the audience, being with my band and the music we make together. I even love the pressure of putting together new material." She was lonely though. And she missed Sea Haven and her family. At least she could laugh with them and feel as if someone in the world cared about her for herself, not because she was a celebrity. "I'm just tired. We've been keeping a grueling schedule."
She could feel herself drifting under the influence of his massaging fingers. The motion of the swaying bus added to the dreamlike feeling pressing down on her. "I'm going to make a list. That's what Libby does and it always works for her."
"Libby is a brilliant woman," Ilya said of her sister. "And wise. What is this list for?"
"The pros and cons of being with you. I'm going to put them down on a piece of paper and then call my sisters to see if any of it makes sense."
Her voice was a thread of sound, low and muffled by the pillow and comforter. She sounded a mixture of sexy and drowsy, and he shifted to ease the nearly permanent ache in his body. "Are there cons to being with me?"
"You're so bossy. I hate that."
Honesty poured into her voice like warm honey. She really was drifting in a dream, or she would never have admitted she was contemplating making a list and discussing him with her siblings. He found her drowsiness incredibly sexy. He nearly groaned, holding on to discipline and control to keep from taking what was his.
"You're always telling me what to do and you just take me over. But when you kiss, everything just goes to hell fast. I can't even think straight when you kiss me."
He found himself smiling. "I would think that should be put under pro."
"No, no. You don't understand. That's not a good thing."
He swept her hair away from her neck and bent until his lips could brush her ear. "Kissing me is on the pro side for certain. If you're going to make a list and talk about me with your sisters, at least be honest. Kissing has got to be a huge pro."
She gave a little sigh and her mouth curved. For one moment her eyelashes fluttered as she struggled to surface. "Maybe both sides."
"No way. That would cancel both entries out, and I have a feeling I'm going to need everything I can get on the pro side. What else are you putting on this list?"
She yawned and turned into him, fitting her face beneath his shoulder. "I'm trying to think of things I like about you."
"My charm."
There was amusement in his voice and it captivated her. "I wasn't aware you were charming. But you did save Abbey's Aleksandr when you could have been caught by the police."
"I wasn't worried about the police," he replied, "so I'm not certain we can count that."
"And you saved Hannah at a great cost to yourself." She wanted to open her eyes and look at him, but her lids were too heavy and she couldn't make herself lift her head. Besides, his fingers were pure magic, melting her body so that she was boneless. Her fingers slid along his thigh, up toward his rib cage, until he caught and held her hand over his heart. "I don't know if I really thanked you for that. Did I?"
"You can put that on the pro side," he said and brought her hand to his mouth to tease the tips with his teeth. "And yes, you thanked me."
"Hannah is special."
Ilya could barely hear her anymore. She was falling asleep, cuddling into him like a sleepy kitten. He kissed her knuckles and sat watching her face. She looked so young and innocent, angelic in her sleep, although her mouth promised paradise, a lush curve that kept his body hard with urgent demand.
The first time he'd ever heard of Joley Drake had been on the radio. Her voice had come on and his world had stopped. That voice. Pure and perfect, it had slid into his mind and lifted the shadows as if sunshine had suddenly burst through heavy layers of dark clouds. His world was violence and dirt, the dregs of society. Nothing shocked him anymore, and he had long since given up all illusions of finding good in a world of debauchery and excess indulgence. He had stopped believing in anything, and only his personal code kept him from destroying everyone around him.
He had spent two years investigating a child pornography ring that had taken him around the world, and the things he'd seen still haunted him—and he'd been hardened to the sins of man a long time ago. His orders had been to take the ring down, dispose of the guilty leaders and walk away without anyone ever knowing he'd been there. He followed leads from England to Brussels to Thailand. One by one he'd exterminated vermin until he'd found the man responsible for organizing the ring in the first place. The man had offered to share two little boys and a girl with him, but hurry, he was making a special video with these three.
By the time Ilya had worked his way through the maze, he found three dead children, killed in a snuff film of indescribable sickness and depravity. His control had slipped, always a dangerous thing. He had become a rabid animal, and he still couldn't examine too closely his behavior. For a short time his mind had shut down and the trained killer had taken over.
It was then, when he was at this darkest hour, that he heard a song on the radio. Joley's voice had given him peace for the first time in years. He hadn't believed anything could lighten his soul, but listening to her, it had been as if the sun had burst for the first time into his life and shone down on him. There was no redemption for him. He didn't expect or want it
, but he craved the sun on his soul, those few moments of peace and contentment. She had saved his sanity. He would have left her alone, just collected her music, but their paths had crossed in the unlikeliest of chances. Now that he'd seen her, been in her presence and felt her warmth on his skin—on his soul—there was no going back. He needed her as a barrier between him and the unrelenting shadows of his life.
His fingers tangled in the silk of her hair. She'd been a shock to him, when he thought himself impossible to shock. She wasn't a perfect angel from heaven—one he couldn't relate to—she was human. Sexy as hell. Flirty. She'd drive a man mad in seconds. She was fiercely loyal. A tigress when it came to her family, and he'd begun brooding over that trait in her, drawn to it, drawn to her capacity to protect those she loved. She knew what it was like to need to do whatever it took to protect those weaker than she was. And he desperately needed someone to save him—to love him—to be as fierce for him as Joley Drake was in the protection of her sisters.
There had been a photo in a tabloid. The headline had read Joley Caught In Her Love Nest. He had been furious, not disillusioned—he knew she was no angel—that her lover hadn't protected her from that kind of exposure. Then he'd found out it hadn't been her at all, but that she'd dyed her hair and taken the blame to keep her sister from nasty gossip that might have harmed her sister's career. In that moment she'd ripped out his heart and took it into her keeping for all time.
There was no getting around wanting Joley. His body ached when he thought of her. And when she sang—or talked—or just stood there in silence—he found he was more aroused than he'd ever been in his life. She brought out things in him he hadn't known were there. Tenderness. Gentleness. Emotions that had never been in his life, not even as a child. She introduced him to laughter. She made him a better person, and she'd replaced despair with hope.
Ilya bent his head again and brushed a kiss along her cheekbone. "Life with you will never be dull." She also brought out the worst side of his nature, the need to dominate and control, his own protective instincts honed into fighting skills and determination. Ilya always won, no matter the cost, and he would win Joley. He had marked her because he couldn't stop himself from doing so, and that had scared the hell out of him. It was rare for him to lose control, and he knew putting his mark on her was not something he could take back. They were irrevocably bound together.
Drake Sisters 06 - Turbulent Sea Page 10