by Sydney Croft
Other women. The very idea made her hackles raise.
“What do you think, Janice? Do his one-nighters call him Tom?”
“I doubt they exchange names at all.”
“He’s not like that,” Kira snapped, and instantly regretted her outburst. Not only might they be right, but the spark in Annika’s eyes told her she’d walked into a trap.
Red flashes burst in Kira’s vision, and a shot of adrenaline sizzled through her veins. Her brain knew Annika was messing with her. But something fierce and primal inside didn’t care. It wanted the blood of the woman who dared talk about her mate like that.
Mine.
She lunged as Annika turned away. She hit the other woman in the back, and then suddenly Kira was flat on her back in the grass beside the road, her body twitching and her mind scrambled. Annika’s voice drifted down to her.
“What the hell? Why did you attack me?”
Groaning, Kira pushed to her feet, her muscles still contracting with tiny tremors. A bitter burning scent hovered in the air. “What was that?”
“Just a little electric shock. I sometimes respond like that to surprises. You’re lucky I didn’t fry you like a strip of bacon.”
“I don’t—” A sharp cramp in Kira’s belly sucked her words from her mouth. Another stabbing pain doubled her over and made her cry out. “What…what are you doing to me?”
The two trainers exchanged worried glances.
“Nothing.” Annika stepped closer. “Kira?”
Hot liquid gushed between Kira’s thighs, and she looked down to see a trickle of crimson running down her leg.
“Shit.” Annika caught Kira as another cramp sapped the strength from her legs. “Call the medics. Hurry!”
The world spun. She dimly heard herself shout, “Tommy!” and then all went black.
CHAPTER
Twenty-three
Three shots of tequila and a beer chaser hadn’t made even a small dent in Annika’s sour mood. Neither had sitting in ACRO’s on-base closet of a bar, listening to hick country music on the jukebox. She stared at the three remaining shots lined up on the table before her, and played eenie-meenie-minie-moe. Some non-Talent supply department dweeb at the pool table eyed her like she was a moron. She flipped him the bird and downed the chosen shot.
The golden liquid burned her throat, but it didn’t burn away the bitter taste she hadn’t been able to swallow since this morning, when she’d watched ACRO medics whisk an unconscious Kira away in a specialized military ambulance.
But that hadn’t been the worst of it. No, what Dev had told Annika later about Kira had knocked her on her ass like no tequila could.
Her pager went off again, and with a flick of her wrist, the device joined her smashed cell phone against the wall of her darkened corner booth. Her phones at home hadn’t been so lucky. The power surge she’d sent through them had melted them where they sat. At least they’d stopped ringing.
She wondered if Creed had tried to contact her. Not that she cared. Though a couple of rounds of hot sex might take her mind off things. What had he said about that—fuck her problems away? Her usual MO?
She downed the last two shots and stumbled home—converted barracks on base—because she couldn’t stand anyone looking at her. She’d give anything to go to Dev’s place, but no matter how mad she was, she loved him too much to invade this strange privacy he seemed to need.
But damn, she didn’t want to be alone. She’d learned that Kira was fine, and so far, the kid was okay too, but things would be touch and go for the next few days at least. If Annika was responsible for something going wrong with the pregnancy…
Her stomach heaved as she opened her front door. Oh, God, she couldn’t handle this. She’d killed a lot of people, had been a weapon for the CIA for years, but none of her victims had been innocents. And never, ever a child.
And still, had she done the same thing five years ago, would it have bothered her?
Would it?
She didn’t want to dig too deeply to find the answer.
Lurching, she made it to the bathroom, where she wanted to retch but couldn’t. Instead, she stripped and stepped into the shower, hoping to wash away the day’s events. But the blistering water couldn’t scald the memory from her brain.
Neither could it stop the pain. Or the tears.
Sobbing, she slid down the wall until she was sitting in the corner beneath the hot spray. What was going on with her? What was up with the emotional breakdown over someone else?
Creed had been right when he’d said she didn’t care about anyone but herself and Dev. But then, how could anyone expect otherwise, when she’d been raised from the age of two by people whose only goal was to turn her into a merciless, professional killing machine?
Goal accomplished.
Annika had become the CIA’s most prized, most successful experiment. They’d congratulated themselves on producing an assassin whose beauty and language abilities allowed her to get close to anyone. Whose fighting skills, killing expertise and lack of remorse allowed her to take out targets with an ease and efficiency they’d never seen.
Add to that her powerful electrical gift, and nothing could touch her.
They’d been so busy celebrating their achievement that they’d neglected to protect themselves from the very weapon they created. And if she felt nothing when she took out assigned targets, she’d felt less when she took out the CIA operatives she’d learned had murdered her birth mother in order to steal her.
She hadn’t stopped there. Almost everyone who had played a role in making her into little more than a weapon had paid. Those who’d escaped her wrath, who had put out an order for her termination, didn’t get off scot-free. She’d go bloody on them when the opportunity presented itself.
Right now, though, she was content to work for ACRO. For Dev.
She still wasn’t sure how he’d become the one person besides herself she could care about, and for a long time she’d resisted letting him in. Just as the CIA had taught her. Feel nothing. Care about no one. Trust no one. But he’d kept trying, long after common sense dictated that he should have left her alone.
And she’d been happy with her life since. Until now. Until Creed weaseled his way into her world and made her feel something other than indifference. Something much more than the decadent orgasms he gave her.
She’d kept the door on her emotions closed to everyone but Dev. Somehow, Creed had opened the door, let them out, and now they didn’t want to go back in. They’d flooded her, had overloaded her senses, and she didn’t know how to deal with it.
What had happened with Kira shouldn’t have bothered her, but now that was all she could think about. She’d even tried to order flowers for the other woman, but when the salesperson asked what to write on the card, Annika had hung up. Was it cool to say,
“Sorry I almost killed you and your kid, and I know you’re still in danger, so hey, apologies ahead of time if something bad happens”?
Probably not. And she seriously doubted Kira would appreciate her showing up in person at the hospital.
The water went cold, but she didn’t notice. Didn’t care. Even as her teeth rattled with the strength of her shivers, the only thing she could think was that maybe, just maybe, the freezing water would numb her, and the pain would go away.
DEV SOUNDED STRANGE. He’d all but ordered Creed to find Annika and help her, but wouldn’t give more details.
Creed clicked off his phone before turning his attention to the man stretched out on his couch. He’d been about to call Oz, to see if his returning friend and mentor had any answer, when the doorbell rang. Oz had been waiting on his stoop.
“Quaty contacted me,” Oz had said.
Now Oz said, “Go to Annika. Quaty will stay here and keep me company.” He looked worn out.
Instead of rushing off, like he wanted to do, Creed sat down heavily in the leather chair next to the fireplace. He’d stopped having the massive chills about five
days after Annika ran out on him again, but he still didn’t feel right. Kat hadn’t been her usual self either. “What the fuck’s going on, Oz?”
Oz stared at him, his brown eyes as close to black as Creed’s were. The two men could have easily passed for brothers—Creed was slightly bigger and broader, Oz more conventionally handsome and sans tattoos, but their coloring, their movements were eerily similar.
“Creed—”
“I want to know what’s going on with me. Why I had that reaction when I left the mansion last year. Why I had the same reaction when the spirit came here, especially if it’s not after me.”
Oz was silent for a long time, and when he finally spoke again, his voice sounded hoarse. The room had gone deadly cold and Kat was rubbing his back frantically. “Are you sure you’re ready to hear this?”
“I need to know. I want to know,” he said. He sat there quietly as Kat wailed in his ear.
“Quaty, stop it,” Oz commanded, and although the wailing didn’t stop, it grew progressively lower. Creed leaned forward in his seat and stared at Oz, waited impatiently.
“There’s a way I can free you from Kat,” Oz said quietly.
“Forever?”
“Forever,” Oz confirmed.
“Shit.” Creed covered his ears in a futile attempt to stop Kat’s screams from echoing in his ears.
“There’s not a big window of time for you to make your decision.” Oz spoke calmly, ignored the screeching that Creed knew the man could also hear and told him more about what Creed would need to do to break the bonds with Kat.
Ani. He had to talk with Ani about all of this…
“I can’t do this right now, Oz,” he heard himself say. “I’ve got to get out of here.” He stumbled, half blinded by tears, and Oz didn’t try to stop him.
CREED’S THROAT FELT SORE, as if he’d been screaming, when really he’d barely talked at all.
Chills wracked his body again as he knocked on Annika’s door gently, then more forcefully when no one answered.
“Annika, open up,” he yelled, because he knew something wasn’t right. He flashed back to the time he’d kicked open another door, at Dev’s family mansion, in order to get to her, and with one heavily booted foot, he did so again.
She hadn’t even bothered to set the alarm on her house, and with a quick glance he took in the fried keypad by the door, the melted house phone that looked as if it had caught fire recently.
He heard water running, raced up the stairs and into what must be her bedroom. He opened the door, expected to find himself immersed in a cloud of steam, not the freezing cold blast that accosted his senses. The window was open, and he could tell before he opened the shower door that the water had also run cold.
Through the heavy glass squares that partitioned the shower from the rest of the bathroom, he saw Annika, curled up in a ball on the floor. He stepped in and turned off the water, grabbed a towel and wrapped her in it.
He carried her into the bedroom, shoved her, still dripping wet, under her heavy comforter, and stripped his own clothes off quickly. He got under the covers with her, hugged her chilled skin next to his in an attempt to warm her fast. Even though he felt cold inside, he knew his skin was still much, much warmer than hers.
“Ani,” he murmured. “Why the hell did you do this to yourself?”
She stirred, her wet hair sticking to his neck and cheek, and when she turned her head in his direction, he rubbed her lips with his because he wanted them pink and rosy again, not tinged blue as they were.
She was still spooned, her back to his chest. He caressed her belly and breasts with his hands, rubbing them up and down to get her attention. He rolled her nipples between his fingers and thought he heard a small gasp.
“Come on, Ani. Open your eyes,” he said. He kissed her shoulder, his cock hardening from the friction of rubbing her—hell, from just being near her.
Yes, sex would definitely wake her up—shock her, if nothing else.
He slid down her body, staying under the covers. He shifted her thighs so he could get between them, found himself with them pressing his neck. It didn’t matter, as long as he could get his tongue, and his piercing, where it needed to go.
He buried his face in her sex, his tongue stroking her folds, which soon grew hot and wet, and he noted that her hips began to rock slightly. He pressed his tongue deep inside of her, heard her gasp for sure this time. Her hands wandered down to twist in his hair as he probed and licked and sucked. Her thighs squeezed his neck as his piercing connected with the tight nub of nerves, and she shattered against his mouth.
She tasted delicious, like a mix of hot, sweet electricity and sugar, and he pushed his tongue inside her again so he could catch every last bit of her orgasm.
“Creed?” she whispered.
He pulled his head away from her reluctantly. “I hope to hell you weren’t expecting someone else,” he growled, but she was pulling at him until he was face-to-face with her. She pulled him in for a kiss, her taste still on his lips, and damn, he always found it hot when she did that.
She pulled him on top, so he covered her. Her body was warming nicely, her muscles still tense even as she spread her thighs to welcome him.
“I wasn’t expecting you. Not after what happened last time,” she murmured. “I fucked up so badly, Creed. Like you knew I would.”
“Shhhh, Ani. It’s all right,” he said.
“Not all right. Won’t ever be,” she said, but she was still guiding him inside of her. He wanted to pull away, to force her to talk more, but he couldn’t. Their bond was too strong when they were close, her energy drawing his until he couldn’t do anything but surrender to it, and to her.
He drew a hissing breath between his teeth, because his cock felt so good inside of her, where it was tight and hot and pulsing—all for him. Only for him. She clutched at his shoulders and moaned.
She had tears tracking her cheeks. He kissed them away as he shifted so he could tongue her nipples, and her ankles locked around his lower back. She was everything he never thought he could have, and right now, at moments like this, she was all his.
Her skin was hot now; her cheeks held a pink flush and her heart beat strongly against his chest. He was on his knees and elbows, rutting against her, because she needed him to be deeper, told him that in no uncertain terms by the jut of her hips, by the way she was kissing him.
The sex continued hard and fast, both of them coming within seconds of each other. Creed’s orgasm was like a hot burst of white light behind his closed eyelids, like he’d been blown apart and put back together within a second’s time.
And then Annika—his tough chick—was crying in his arms. Sobbing as if her heart would break.
“I…hurt…Ender’s…girlfriend,” she managed. “He’s going to kill me.”
“Ender will calm down. Kira’s all right,” he told her. “She doesn’t blame you. No one does.”
“I’ve worked so hard to control it,” she ground out. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“I know, honey, I know. Sometimes our gifts don’t always cooperate the way we want them to.”
“At least yours doesn’t make you hurt people accidentally. Doesn’t stop you from actually having sex.”
“Kat does stop me. And you’ve never hurt me during sex,” he reminded her.
“You’re the only one.”
“I like being the only one.”
“I don’t have a choice,” she said, her words cutting into him sharper and more effectively than any razor ever could.
“Who knows? Maybe there are more of us out there for you to fuck. Maybe you can take out an ad for willing participants if you’re not happy with your current situation.”
She didn’t answer him. The past months of beating his head against what felt akin to a brick wall came bearing down on him and he rolled off the bed. His feet hit the floor with a solid thump and he sat staring at the wall.
He waited for Annika to storm out,
and she surprised him by not doing that. Instead, she reached up and began to massage his shoulders, her hands strong and sure—an apology. As close to one as she’d ever given him.
“I need to know if this is going to work between us, Ani.”
“Can’t we just keep things the way they are?”
No, not after what Oz told him earlier. His mentor and friend had gripped his arm and foretold a future Creed had never believed could actually happen.
“There’s a way for things to be different for me.”
“I don’t understand.” She’d stopped the massage, and when he turned, she was sitting back on her heels, still naked—beautifully, enticingly naked—and he almost scrapped the conversation in favor of making love to her again.
“It’s about Kat,” he said quietly. “The other day…my tattoos…when they were moving…”
“Something is wrong.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Have you been to the doctors? I’m sure Dev can find you a specialist if the doctors at ACRO can’t help you…”
Creed shook his head. “It’s not something any doctor can help me with. It’s something I’ve got to make a decision about before the decision’s taken away from me.”
“Tell me. Let me help. I can find some way to help you.”
God, how he wanted to believe that. The concern in her blue eyes was almost too much for him to take—she’d been through so much shit, and now he was going to ask more of her. Probably more than she was willing to give.
“I’ve got a certain window of time…it won’t be easy, but it’s possible that I can live a normal life.”
“You mean, without Kat?”
“Right. I wouldn’t be tied to her anymore.”
“Then what’s to think about?”
“My powers. All of them—they’d be gone.”
She pushed away from him, half-stunned. “So you’d get your life back, get to be with anyone you wanted to…”
“No!” he shouted. “It wouldn’t be with just anyone, dammit. It would be with you. That’s the way this deal works. It’s you or it’s nobody. It’s keeping my powers and having women once or twice, or it’s staying with you.”