His gaze rose to meet hers in the mirror. “It hurts.”
“Shit, yes, it hurts.”
“Crybaby.”
“Asshole.” A tiny smile lifted her lips.
He dropped a kiss on her other shoulder, surprising her. She moved just slightly from the temptation of his lips on her skin and swallowed the emotion that rose in her throat.
“Guess you saved my ass with that tackle.”
A smile came and went on his face. “It was the only thing I could think to do. The targa was on the hunt and there was no stopping you.”
He dipped two fingers in the ointment he’d brought and began to dab ever so tenderly at the burn. The skin under the ointment immediately stopped hurting. Cool relief spread as Gabriel worked, the sizzling burn subsiding to a dull heat, then to a slight itch.
Lana stared at his reflection in amazement. “What the hell is that?”
He shrugged. “Something from home. It’s good for burns and bruises. As you might imagine, I have a lot of use for it in my line of work.”
“You should patent the stuff. You’d make a fortune.”
He finished and set the jar aside, but he didn’t leave her. Instead he shifted so his body was closer, warm and intimate against her back. Her gaze met his again in the mirror, and she read his intent in the mahogany depths of his stare. His hands traveled down her bare arms and back up across her collarbone, and she sighed, loving the feel of his fingers on her skin. He bent his head to trail his lips from the top of her shoulder to the side of her neck, to her ear. And then his hand was turning her face to his, his mouth slanting across hers to take her deeply and oh, God, so sweetly, tasting of rum and male and long-held need. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, relaxing into him, letting his strength support her, wanting this, so wanting this.
With a languid, almost unconscious movement of her hand, she released the towel and let it fall. He sighed, a sound she felt against her lips as he pulled away from their kiss, in his body as the breath left him.
“Beautiful.” His lips moved against her ear, his hungry gaze swept down the length of her naked body in the mirror.
This wasn’t like her, to stand trembling, wordless and aching, while his hands fell over her ribcage to her hips, down the outside and over the tops of her thighs, joining to press low across her belly. It wasn’t like her to wait, feeling his hard length pushing up behind her, longing to turn and cradle it against the pounding pulse between her legs. But his slow worship of her body held her powerless, poised at the brink of some dizzying precipice, arms open, embracing the fall.
She gasped with sudden, spearing desire when his fingers grasped her nipple and squeezed just hard enough to thrill. She moaned as his other hand cupped her mound and pulled her closer.
One finger slipped into her cleft, then two, stroking in and out of her silken heat while his thumb circled the glistening pink nub of her clitoris. She couldn’t stop watching what he was doing to her—his arm snaking down her body, his hand between her legs. He squeezed her breast. She writhed, wanting more.
“Gabriel.” She breathed the word, his name, unable to manage more. Her heart thudded inside her chest. She could have him here and now, with no more foreplay than this. Her mind readily supplied the visions—Gabriel stripping out of his clothes, springing free, huge and eager. Gabriel taking her from behind, hard and fast, her hands gripping the sink as she braced herself against his thrusts. She saw herself coming for him, her head thrown back against his chest, screaming in ecstasy.
She moaned again, so close her womb clenched and pulsed in need. She put her hand over Gabriel’s and felt him shudder as he held her. Then she turned and led him to the bed, curling up to wait while he stepped back to shrug out of his clothes.
Her breath caught as she saw him outlined between the harsh light of the motel vanity and the shadows of the bedroom. He had the body of a warrior—broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips, the muscles of his chest and biceps and stomach as defined as if they’d been sculpted in stone. The column of flesh that rose between his strong thighs was long and thick, crowned with a broad tip that even at a distance seemed to pulse and strain with his need.
As he drew near to the bed, she sat up to meet him, running her hands across his chest and down his sides. Jagged scars marred the smooth skin under his ribs; as she touched them she felt him draw in a breath, even as glaring images streaked through her mind. Fields of blue ice under a black sky. The diamond-bright flash of knives. Blood on the snow, on his hands. Deep, unyielding pain. And someone, something, dead beneath him.
Gabriel grabbed her hand, stared into her eyes. The images flickered out.
She shook her head, disoriented. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing, querida.” He managed a smile. “We’ve all had our bad days, huh?”
She searched his face for a long moment, but in his eyes there was nothing but a desire so primitive there were no words to express it. Lana bent her head to kiss the ugly welts on his side, then let her lips trail lower, across his belly, toward the rigid shaft arching upward. She grasped him hard and licked at the swollen tip. The taste of him set fire to her blood, bringing heat to her breasts and deep into her belly. She took him fully in her mouth, letting her tongue explore in a velvet swirl of sensation. She groaned, savoring the feel of him in her mouth, letting it fuel the pulsing ache between her thighs.
“Ah, God, Lana! Much more and I’m going to lose it.”
She grinned, pulling back. “Maybe I’d like to see you lose control.”
He was breathing hard, his chest laboring to pull in air, but his answering smile was wicked, seductive. “You first, mi amor.”
He pulled her down to the edge of the bed and knelt between her knees, settling her calves on his shoulders. Her heart pounded in anticipation as his hands toyed with her thighs, stroking and spreading her outer lips, opening her for the press and play of his thumbs. Her sex thrummed and swelled in response to his teasing, eager for more. At last he dipped his head, and his tongue lapped at her, curling around the swollen center of her desire over and over. The need deep inside her sharpened and roiled until her breath came in keening gasps, until her very blood was running like molten lava from her pulsing core out to her fingertips.
His tongue swirled over the engorged pearl of her clit, and her hands twisted in the sheets, wanting, so close. Then he slipped two fingers inside her and God! It was just right; it was perfect. She bucked toward his mouth, letting it happen, letting him take her, and she heard herself from far away, moaning his name as the intensity built. She heard him, too, somehow, almost as if he was in her mind, encouraging her, urging her to give in to him, to come for him. And she wanted to, God, yes, she wanted to. He kept taking her higher, kept giving her more until finally she couldn’t stand it; her body shattered into a thousand quivering pieces as she came at last, arching up off the bed, writhing around his fingers, struggling to find enough breath to cry out his name yet again. Even then it wasn’t over. She still wanted him.
Her body was splayed out below him, open, ready for him, and it was all he could do to hold on to his control for the few seconds it would take him to get inside her. The round, smooth globes of her breasts called to his hands, the taut, rosy peaks of her nipples tempted his mouth, the plump, wet lips of her sex drew him like a magnet. And yet he couldn’t stop looking at her.
Everything inside him roared savagely that she was his, his in a way no female had ever been before, or would ever be again. The part of him that spoke only the language of instinct told him he had to claim her, to mark her, to find his way to her soul and merge with her there. The way she called his name—his name—the way she met his eyes with a need that went beyond the flames that burned between them—God, she made him want to lose himself inside her forever.
He lowered himself between her sweet thighs, felt the liquid fire of her core envelop his tip as he positioned it at her entrance. Then with a low growl of possession h
e plunged deep inside her, burying himself to the hilt in her welcoming heat. She was hot and fit him like expensive leather, and for an exquisite moment all he could do was revel in that silky, snug heat. Then he began to move, slowly at first, pulling all the way out so he could push all the way back in and feel every inch of her slick sheath.
Her hips rose up to meet his every stroke, her breaths came in erotic little whimpers. The heat built between them, and her juices drenched his shaft. Dios, she was coming again so soon! A fierce grin lit his face as he increased his pace and watched her catch fire, her eyes closed in ecstasy.
Her body arched under him, every muscle clenched as the orgasm hit her, tiny pulses clutching at his shaft as he rode it out with her. Fuck! It felt so damn good sliding in and out of her, and she wasn’t coming down from this climax, she was spinning into another, screaming his name and wrapping her legs around his hips and dragging him down to settle into the heat of her embrace. Jesus! His blood flowed hot in his veins, expanded in his heart, roared in his ears, filled him with aching need.
Gabriel was losing control. His body was responding to her like the animal it truly was now, taking her hard and fast and deep, driving toward a climax that was relentless and primal. And she was only encouraging him, lost in a spiraling vortex of pleasure, her soft voice at his ear telling him how good it was, how she liked what he was doing to her, how much she wanted him.
Another stroke closer to heaven and every barrier between them collapsed. He no longer knew, or cared, where he ended and she began. In that instant her mind was open to his and without hesitation he flowed in; his mind was open to hers and he welcomed her in. A sweet cascading loop began between them, he feeling her pleasure in the hot, filling push of his shaft, she sharing the ecstasy he found in her slick, fiery core. He felt her surprise at the joining of their minds, her surrender to the indescribable sensation, her rush to climax. And, oh, God, he felt that climax, all of it, the piercing joy of the last seconds before it took her, the tidal wave of overwhelming release, the rolling clench of muscles that began in her spasming core and spread to every part of her body, the endless, mindless suspension of time while the orgasm claimed her.
Like an echo he felt the ripple of her pleasure through his own body, the squeeze of her sheath at his thrust, the grip of her hands at his back. In seconds the unbearable pressure that had been building at the base of his spine demanded its own release, and he exploded into her with a feral groan. He heard her answering moans of satisfaction as his hips bucked and his seed left him in hot, liquid jets. He pumped into her over and over, until he felt her come yet again, and still he didn’t want to stop. It seemed like forever before his body finally shuddered to a halt, still semi-hard in the throbbing warmth of her flesh.
Gabriel lay inside her for an unknown time, feeling her hands moving slowly on his back, her breath at his ear. She was there in his mind as he shook with the aftermath of their lovemaking, unable to move, unwilling to leave her. Then, abruptly, he felt her withdraw. Her body tensed, and it was as if a cold wind had blown into the room. His brief, beautiful moment of peace dissipated as if it had been a dream, as if it had never been. His shields snapped back into place of their own accord, the long years of hard, disciplined training taking over. And his heart shrank in his chest.
Gabriel pulled back and rolled to his elbow. Lana sat up and drew her knees up around her chin. She was trembling, but there was fire in her green eyes.
“I gave you my body, Gabriel.” She stared into his eyes. “I didn’t give you anything else.”
“Lana—”
“You said . . .” She stopped, fighting for control over the quaver in her voice. “You told me you thought it was wrong to enter someone’s mind without their permission. Was that just a lie? Or don’t the rules apply when you’re already fucking somebody’s brains out?”
He sat up, reached for her. “Lana, listen to me—”
“Don’t!” She pulled back from him. “What exactly was your motivation, anyway? It wasn’t enough for your ego that I was already screaming your name? You had to know from the inside what I was feeling?” She glared at him. “Just how much did you see while you were in there, Gabriel?”
A black pit formed in his chest and threatened to swallow his heart. Because, of course, he had seen it all—every fantasy she might have shared with him in the heated dark of an embrace, every secret he might have learned in the years of a trusting relationship, even the broken, hurtful memories she might never have revealed no matter how long she knew him or how deeply she loved him. He had seen her soul—and she had seen his, though she didn’t realize it yet.
Gabriel saw her eyes widen with the truth. “You fucking bastard!” she sputtered, lunging for him.
Bitter regret rose up in him to meet her anger, and he grabbed her forearms before she could close her hands around his throat. “Goddamn it, Lana! I didn’t force this! My shields dropped without my even being aware of it. Your mind was open. I couldn’t resist slipping into it any more than I could resist climaxing.”
“So now it’s my fault?” Her hands balled into fists, and she fought against his grip. “Bastard! The last time I checked there was a difference between mutual consent and rape! Even if it is my mind we’re talking about!”
“Lana, I lost control! I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“Get out.” She shrugged out of his hands. Tears slid down her face.
“Lana, please.” He was desperate, the hole in his chest expanding. “Believe me when I say this wasn’t a casual thing. I would never have hurt you. I meant . . . I wanted so much more with you.”
She looked at him, her eyes dark with his betrayal. “I wanted it, too, Gabriel. But for that I’d have to trust you. Get out.”
There was nothing left for him to say—no heartfelt words of apology or regret, no artful explanations, no appeals to logic or promises for the future. She was done with him. He picked up his clothes and left her, the growing chasm in his chest having taken what was left of his heart.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Aboard the Bloodstalker, in Orbit, Earth, Sector Three
The human screamed and fell to his knees, blood spurting from his nose, from his ears. His eyes were wide and bulging with terror, streaming tears of blood, and still Kinnian would not let him go. There was nothing useful left in the man’s mind, Trevyn knew. He saw what his brother saw—the skittish, meaningless images of a mind unhinged by unremitting pain and horror. Whatever knowledge this creature might once have possessed, whatever basic intelligence its brain might have drawn upon to process that knowledge, were gone forever.
When, at last, the man ceased breathing and collapsed to the deck, Kinnian cursed and kicked at the lifeless body. “Portol’s balls but these humans are weak! They have no will at all! I slice through them like a knife through fresh sofra cheese. That’s the third one in less time than it takes to cure a hard-on and still nothing!”
Trevyn snatched at one bit of information swimming in the flood of unrelated facts from the interrogation subjects taken from the house in Little Rock. “Perhaps we have the answer we need if only we frame the question a different way.”
Kinnian turned to snarl in his direction. “What do you mean?”
“None of these men saw the boy leave the house. They can’t tell us who has him now. But perhaps that’s not important.” Trevyn paced, thinking. “They all knew of another location, a facility significant to the organization that took the boy. The name of this facility was there in all of their minds.”
Kinnian’s brow lifted. “This ‘Groom Lake’. Yes, it beats like a drum in their heads. You think the boy was taken there?”
Trevyn risked his own life with this theory, but he couldn’t stand to watch another interrogation. “It seems likely. The house in Little Rock appeared to be nothing more than a stopover.”
“I suppose it is possible. If so we would need only to find the facility and take the boy fro
m there.” Kinnian scratched at his beard. “You would have little problem locating it, I assume?”
“None whatsoever, my lord.”
“Excellent! Then let us confirm this little theory.” The captain of the Bloodstalker clapped his hands together, his eyes gleaming. “Guard! Bring in that last human!”
Trevyn schooled both his thoughts and his expression to display enthusiasm for his own work. “With your permission, my lord, I’ll begin the search to locate the facility.”
His brother waved a dismissive hand, and Trevyn took his leave, grateful to be done with Kinnian and the smell of torture and death that surrounded him. He made his way down the corridor to the lift and up the three levels to his quarters without encountering any of the crew, for which he was also thankful. His muscles still quivered with the effort to control his loathing—for what he had seen, for what he had been a part of, for what he allowed to go on, day after day.
One day, Trevyn told himself. One day he would find a way to end it. And until then he would find a hundred small ways every day to mitigate what Kinnian did, to save those he could. His message had reached Gabriel; he had felt the barest whisper of his older brother’s presence at the house in Little Rock. Yet he was certain Gabriel had not been the one to save the boy and his mother. The ones who had taken the humans had moved them long before any of them had gotten there. Thank the gods.
With a sigh, Trevyn sat down at his desk and opened his compscreen. In less than thirty seconds he found the general location of Groom Lake, Nevada. Within minutes he breached the security firewalls of the facilities in the isolated compound, including the organization, codenamed STEELWALL, currently in possession of the boy that was their target. He recorded all relevant schematics, satellite data and route maps. He ordered the bridge to take detailed sensor readings of the location for further planning. Then he sent word to his captain that all was in readiness and informed the crew that he was off duty for the next shift.
Trouble In Mind (Interstellar Rescue Series Book 2) Page 17