Cursed fs-1

by S. J. Harper

  I look away quickly. “Then the connection to Green Leaf is where we’ll start,” I say. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow we’ll look at the case with fresh eyes.”

  But not tonight. Tonight, I know what I want. I want to break this spell Zack has on me. I need to break it. I need to stop wondering, to get him out of my system.

  There’s one sure way to do that. One even Demeter can’t fault.

  “Take me home.”

  Zack reaches for the seat belt. As he slides the latch home, I cover his hand with mine.

  I take his chin and turn his face until his eyes meet mine. “Take me to your home.”

  A slow smile forms.

  “Don’t. Don’t read anything into this, Zack. It’s just for tonight. It’s just sex.”

  He throws the car into reverse. “Right. Just tonight. Just sex.”

  CHAPTER 16

  “I hope red is all right. I’m out of white.” Zack leans casually in the doorway, a glass of wine in each hand.

  “So this is it?” I give one of the steel bars a shake before accepting the wine. The cage is built solid.

  “I hope you realize I don’t invite just any girl up to see my cage.” He smiles, but without warmth or humor. It’s a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “How long ago were you turned?”

  His eyes become distant. “I wasn’t turned. My father was Were.” He nods toward the cage. “This was originally his. It’s mine now. But that’s a story for another day.”

  “So you always knew you were Were?”

  “I knew my father was. He was adept at hiding it from the world, but he didn’t hide it from me. He wanted to prepare me for the possibility that I carried the gene. The testing that’s available now wasn’t then. I didn’t know for sure until my freshman year in high school. That’s when everything changed.”

  “I can’t imagine what you must have gone through.”

  He smiles wryly. “At first it was incredible. Everything became better, more intense. I was faster, stronger. I evolved in ways you couldn’t imagine and I never anticipated. I’d always been a good athlete. After my ascension I was unbeatable, and not just during the changeling times. I should have held back. I didn’t. I was ambitious. I wanted to go to college. Recruiters flocked to my games. Unfortunately, not just college recruiters. I came to the attention of the wrong people.”

  One glance and somehow I know. “The people you worked for?”

  He studies his glass, swirling the wine gently before taking a sip. “Yes.”

  There’s no way I can let him leave it at that. Now that he’s opened up, I want to hear the whole story. “Tell me the rest.”

  He shakes his head. “The rest of this sounds like the plot from a bad sci-fi movie. Not the average woman’s idea of foreplay.”

  I have to smile at that. “Remember who you’re talking to. What do you think the story of my life sounds like? Plus, Siren. We don’t really need foreplay. I guess I could have saved you a lot of time if I’d told you that before.”

  He laughs. “That’s okay. I like to be thorough. Take pride in my work.” He closes the gate to the cage. Locks it. Starts to move away.

  I take his hand, make him turn back toward me. “Please? I want to know.”

  He takes another pull from his glass, stares down into it. Finally he relents.

  “They knew what I was. I was told they represented a special division of the U.S. military. Only it turned out they were more of a subcontracted splinter group. They said they were building a special team to carry out top secret military operations and they wanted me on board.”

  “Flattering.”

  “It was to a seventeen-year-old. The opportunity to join an army of supernatural creatures who would fight against tyranny and protect the American way was too compelling to pass up.” He looks up. “I completely let go of the idea of college. Why sit in a classroom when I could be part of a real-life Justice League? I volunteered. For a kid with an IQ of one sixty, I was incredibly stupid and naive.”

  I reach out and touch his cheek. “Or incredibly brave and courageous.”

  “I’ve never spoken of it before.”

  “Why me? Why now?”

  “Because you’re unrelenting and work on me like kryptonite?”

  I frown, playing with one of the buttons on his shirt so that I don’t have to look him in the eye.

  “I know you could find out anything you want about me at any time,” he says at last, lifting my chin. “But you let me tell the story myself. Is there anything else you want to know?”

  A dozen questions flit through my mind before I settle on one.

  “What is it that finally made you break away, leave that life?”

  He hesitates. Seconds pass. Just when I reach the conclusion he’s not going to tell me, he takes a deep breath and begins.

  “I was sent on a mission. It was supposed to be quick, simple. Everything had been carefully orchestrated. The research, as always, was thorough. The target was a threat to national security. He’d reportedly been responsible for the loss of many lives, could be responsible for the deaths of a great deal more. He was a monster who needed to be eliminated. At least that’s what I was told, what I believed.”

  “You were sent to kill him.”

  Zack nods. “I had a custom-made long-range rifle and a clear view. The target was supposed to be alone. No one else was visible when I lined up the shot and took aim. I’m good at what I do. What I did. The shot was clean.” He swallows. “But the target wasn’t alone. She must have entered the room right after I pulled the trigger. I watched, through my scope. It was surreal, a macabre silent horror film unfolding before me. One of my own making. One that afterward I couldn’t get out of my head. I still can’t. She threw herself on top of the target. Crying. Screaming. Soaked in his blood. She was four. He was her father. And . . . as it turned out . . . I was the monster.”

  I place my hand on Zack’s shoulder and give it a squeeze. “You are not a monster. You killed one man to save hundreds.”

  He smiles ruefully. “It was a lie, Emma.” He turns to look at me, his eyes shadowed with regret. “The dossier was a complete fabrication. It was about money and power. It wasn’t about saving lives. And it wasn’t just about killing one man. It wasn’t just one man. There were a lot of men over the years. Every one of them someone’s son, or husband, or father. I started to dig. The more I did, the more lies I uncovered. I wasn’t doing something noble, something to be proud of. I was nothing more than a very highly trained, highly paid assassin. No matter what I do, how many I manage to save, I’ll never be able to give back the lives I took.”

  “That’s why working these cases has become so important to you. You can’t return that little girl’s father to her, not ever. But you can find and return others.”

  “And I do, just like you. In so many ways, we’re coming from the same place, you and I. We’re seeking the same kind of salvation. That’s why we make such a great team.”

  Zack is right. We do make a great team. We are on the same path, in search of the same thing. “The people you worked for, they just let you walk away?”

  “Hardly. Suffice it to say I fixed things so that I pose more of a threat to them dead than alive. We’re at a stalemate. I’ve accepted I can’t take them down. For now. They’ve accepted my decision. For now.”

  Zack holds out his hand.

  I take it.

  “No more talk about sad things. Not tonight.”

  I let him lead me down a short hall to a door on the left. He pushes it open, giving me a clear view of the master suite.

  On the far side of the room is a set of double French doors. They open onto a balcony, offering a breathtaking view of the moonlit beach and ocean beyond. Cream doupioni curtains hang over the doors, the rich silk fabric flutters in the evening breeze. There’s a fire in the fireplace to the left of the bed. It fills the room with warmth, a contrast to the cool night air drifting in from outside. On
the mantel is an array of candles, which he’s also taken the time to light. There are more on the dark walnut nightstands, which flank the enormous king-sized sleigh bed. The lamps on the either side of the bed remain off. They aren’t needed. A natural glow fills the room. The flames from the fire and candles flicker and dance, casting shadows on the wall.

  I hesitate. The first time we were together was all flying clothes, insistent hands, and hot openmouthed kisses. I guess after my admission and in light of his nature, I was expecting the same. For tonight, at least, he’s got that aggression thoroughly locked away.

  “You’re in control here.”

  “Honestly, I think I’d be more comfortable if we were both out of control.” I take a sip of my wine. There is the aroma of sea salt and burned wood in the air, as well as a mix of vanilla and orange, cinnamon and ginger. “You always keep scented candles around?” I ask over the rim of my glass.

  “I figure you’ve got to give a girl something if you’re going to hold back on the foreplay.”

  I walk over to the bed and run my hand over the duvet cover. Like those downstairs, the fabrics are rich and lush. Earth tones dominate—taupe walls, cream drapes, dark brown bedding with gold accents. I move to the fireplace. There’s a large mirror above it. I can see Zack’s reflection as he crosses the room to join me.

  He places his hands gently on my shoulders. “Listen, it’s okay if you’ve changed your mind. You were right this morning when you said there are a lot of reasons not to do this.”

  My gaze lifts to meet his in the mirror. “And yet here we are.”

  He reaches out with one hand, brushing his fingertips down the side of my neck before tracing a painstakingly slow path along the edge of my gown’s neckline—starting in front of my shoulder and ending at the zipper. “You’re sure you want this?”

  I’ve had sex with plenty of men during my lifetime. A good many of those men have been quite imaginative. Some have even been memorable. With a few, it still hurts to think about. I’ve been here many times before. So what is it about this man that makes me ache so?

  Do I want him? I shiver. I do. “In the worst possible way.”

  Zack encircles my waist with his left arm, then dips his head, nose at the nape of my neck. He inhales deeply, breathing me in just like before, only then it was with more subtlety. This time it feels decidedly primitive, possessive.

  My own breath catches.

  I feel a slight tug as he pulls down my zipper. The fabric parts, exposing my back. I close my eyes and wait. Then I feel Zack’s fingers skimming down over my skin, tracing the edges of my ink. The pair of wings covers most of my back. It’s not a tattoo I chose. Like so much else, Demeter chose it for me. I was marked the day I was stripped of my real wings, the day I was sent here. Because I don’t see them every day, you might think I’d forget. I never forget.

  “What you told me in Charleston about this tat, it was a lie, wasn’t it?” Zack murmurs, almost to himself.

  I turn to face him, letting the gown fall and stepping out of it. “We’re not speaking of sad things tonight.”

  I can see he wants to know more, but I’m standing before him in four-inch pumps, breasts bare, nipples erect, wearing only black silk panties and stockings. The glamour affects my physical beauty in that my true face is hidden. But my body is untouched. Breasts, hips, legs are of a level of perfection only a Siren can possess.

  The questions die on his lips. The humidity here at the beach makes my long, dark hair wave. It’s loose now, past my shoulders, partially covering my breasts.

  Zack reaches out and picks up a strand. “I love your hair down.” He begins to curl it around his finger, reeling me in. “You should wear it like this more often. In fact, this entire outfit meets with my approval.”

  I can’t help smiling, more comfortable in my skin than in silk and lace. “Oh yeah?”

  He looks me straight in the eye. “Yeah.”

  I reach for his top shirt button and slide it back through the hole. “You wouldn’t find it . . . distracting?”

  “Me? No. You know me. I’m all about the mission. Eye on the ball.”

  I’m on the last button now. “You’d be more convincing if you weren’t looking at my breasts.”

  “Which are amazing.” As if to punctuate the statement, he palms one, feeling the weight of it, squeezing gently. “Why do you insist on hiding them?”

  “You mean I should take a page from television and wear low-cut blouses and spike heels on the job?”

  “Works for me.”

  I interrupt his reverie when I step back to slide his shirt off his shoulders. Before he can express disappointment that I’ve moved out of reach, I do two things that are guaranteed to leave a man speechless. I reach for the button on his trousers and I drop to my knees.

  I give Zack a little shove and he falls back to sit on the edge of the bed, hands braced behind him. His chest is broad and well muscled. A light carpet of hair starts below his neck, fans out across his pecs, then narrows under his ribs. My eyes follow the happy trail until it disappears into the waistband of his slacks. Zack Armstrong is one gorgeous man.

  I make short order of removing his shoes and socks. Then I set my hands on his knees and run them over his thighs. I subtly brush the zipper with the backs of my fingers. His hips rise off the bed.

  “You’re killing me here.”

  I deliberately take my time lowering his zipper, letting the tension build. For a moment I hold my breath. Then I draw him into my hand. He’s long, hard, and surprisingly thick. I stroke him, palm open and flat. He smells of testosterone, citrus, and spice. The scent is as complicated as the man himself. Clean. Mysterious. Sexy.

  “I want to feel your mouth on me,” he says.

  I oblige, giving him a firm squeeze before leaning forward and offering him my tongue, sliding him between my lips.

  His hand goes to the back of my head. “Christ, Emma.”

  I take him deep. My mouth and tongue quickly develop a nice rhythm. Both his hands tangle in my hair. Zack guides me firmly yet gently. I can tell by his breathing he’s getting close. His grip tightens suddenly and he gasps.

  “Emma, stop!”

  The request is entirely unexpected. I sit back, releasing him. The instant I do, he pulls me up. His mouth devours mine. The kiss is demanding, insistent. A growl emanates from somewhere deep within his chest, low, primal. My eyes fly open and I pull back from him. The flash of light blue I saw Wednesday night in his normally brown eyes is there again. Before I have time to even fully register it, he’s stripped his trousers off and deposited me on his bed.

  “Zack—” I place my hand in the center of his chest. He’s hovering over me, six foot three of tall, dark, and dangerous.

  “If you don’t want this to happen, now would be a good time to say so.”

  “Your eyes, they’ve changed.”

  Zack lowers his head and nuzzles my cheek. “My wolf likes you,” he whispers. I feel the pulse of his warm breath against my neck. “But don’t worry. I’m in control, not the beast. I don’t let it have free rein. Not ever. That’s what the cage is for.” As he says the words, one hand travels down, passing my hip, gliding over the top of my thigh, then snaking its way into my panties.

  His fingers separate my folds and delve into the wetness. My hips lift off the mattress, wanting more.

  “Take everything off.” My voice is rough with want.

  Zack doesn’t need to be asked twice.

  He peppers hot, openmouthed kisses across my collarbone, through the valley between my breasts, and over my stomach. I shiver with anticipation as he hooks his fingers into my panties and lowers them down my silk-covered legs. The shoes come off next. He tosses them over his shoulder and they land on the floor with a clunk. Then he rolls the stockings off, taking the time to shake and smooth each one out before dropping them off the edge of the bed.

  He lifts one of my legs into the air and kisses the inside of my ankle. I find my
self grinning.

  Zack notices. “You’re smiling.”

  “I’m happy,” I confess. It’s true.

  “You’re beautiful,” he says.

  I worry my glamour is fading. That in the moment I’ve somehow become careless. But I don’t hold on to the concern very long. Zack’s climbing up the length of my body. He’s hard and ready and in position.

  He kisses my nose, then reaches into the drawer of his nightstand and pulls out a condom.

  “We don’t need it. I can’t conceive.” As a werewolf, Zack isn’t susceptible to human disease; the process of shape-shifting cures all ills. But he can procreate. I take the condom from him and toss it aside. “Hey, didn’t you say something about me being in control?”

  Zack grins. “You want to take control?”

  We roll.

  He places his hands on my waist. “I’m all yours, baby.”

  I’m flying once again. As I did long ago when I had my real wings. Zack and I soar, together. Higher and higher, until the real world is far below. Until no one in it or of it can touch us.

  • • •

  Day Five: Saturday, April 14

  I wake up in Zack’s house, in Zack’s bed. His arm is draped over my waist. His hand cups my breast. I feel as if I’ve run a marathon. My body is sore, but I’m exhilarated. Zack is as unpredictable and versatile a lover as he is a man, as skilled at hard and fast as he is at slow and easy. The clock on the nightstand says six. We can’t have been asleep more than three hours.

  I gently lift his arm and roll over. The lines of his face are smoothed in sleep. His beard has grown thicker during the night. I’m tempted to trace the outline of his lips, to kiss his generous mouth. A pull of desire makes me clench my thighs together and I feel myself getting wet again. But there’s also the sting of rash burn from his stubble on the inside of my thighs. What I really need is a shower.

  I place a soft kiss on Zack’s shoulder before slipping out of bed. He stirs and I slip the pillow I’d been sleeping on under his arm. He doesn’t waken, snuggling the pillow against his cheek as if still holding me.