by Bonnie Vanak
“Ah, the suppressor. Sweet little tool. Keeps everything nice and quiet, so no evil overlords can hear.”
“And their little smelly minion nasties.” She gave a brittle laugh. “No evil overlord would be complete without one or two. I guess we know for sure they’ve got my trail.”
Kelly hesitated. “Maybe you’d be better off heading out without me. They’re after me, not you. Break this spell, Sam. Untie us. It could be your only chance of rescuing the children.”
He tapped her nose. “Nice try, Denning. I’m not breaking the bond. You and I are stuck together.”
“Sure you want to be stuck with me, Sam?” she whispered. “You don’t know what lies ahead.”
“We never do. All we can do is adapt and survive. We’ll get through this. I’ll see to it.”
Confidence burned through him. For so long, she’d been on her own, shouldering heavy responsibilities. It was incredibly tempting to let him carry the load.
With a sigh, she leaned back and let her weary body absorb strength from the sun. Posture military erect, Sam stood guard, scanning the woods. So strong and assured, a hardened warrior. He hadn’t even blinked at the ilthus, just took the shot.
Fear threatened to claw up her spine again. Too much danger in these woods, too many threats lurking behind the dense brush. She began humming a favorite song.
He glanced over one shoulder. “You still like to sing?”
“Chases away the boredom of waiting to heal. I’m not very patient. Can’t sit still for very long.”
Sam turned and grinned. “You should try recon. Stinking hot and thirsty, waiting for hours for that scumbag target to move so you can take the building.”
“Staying still for hours? You? Mr. ‘Let’s go, let’s do something, move it now’?”
“I can be very patient, especially if the reward is worth it,” he said, green dancing in his suddenly hot and hungry gaze, his intent clearly shifting from scumbag targets to something deeper and more sexual.
Flushing, she refused the bait. Legs feeling like jelly, she stood and brushed off her jeans. “We need to get going. I can’t guarantee another mutant bird thing won’t attack. Or a zombie. Never know when the zombies will surface. Though I think I can fend off a zombie attack. All they care about are brains, and according to Elementals, Arcanes have none.”
Sam gave her shoulders a gentle shake. “Chill it, Kel. No more talk of Elementals or Arcanes. It’s just us, and we’ll get through this.”
“I can’t bear for anyone else to get hurt because of me,” she whispered.
He laid a finger across her lips, his touch gentle. “They won’t. I’m a trained navy SEAL, and if this doesn’t work—” Sam gestured to the weapon holstered at his side “—then I always have this.” He pointed a finger like a gun and aimed at a tree. “Bam. Magick bullet. All zombies are all dispatched, milady.”
Warmth filled her as he kissed her hand in a gallant gesture. Kelly managed a small smile. “I’ve missed you, Sam. I’ve missed us.”
Sam’s expression shuttered. “I need to bury this.” With the toe of a boot, he poked at the dead ilthus. “I can’t risk drawing more attention by frying it with magick.”
Hiding her small hurt, she helped him dig. Bury this.
When he really wanted to bury old feelings.
After they finished, he gave her a critical look. “That thing found you because it picked up your scent. We need to disguise your smell.”
She touched her sticky hair. “I smell more like dead ilthus. Any chance we can find that river again? I heard water up ahead.”
They pushed on through the forest until reaching a tributary that fed into the river. Kelly walked along the edge until reaching a deeper pool. Then she dropped her pack on the bank and ducked her head into the water, scrubbing away the slime. But if these things had her scent...
After shedding her jeans, socks and sneakers, she waded in and submerged her entire body. Kelly sighed with relief as the cool water touched her hot skin. As she waded out, Sam stared at her.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked in a thick voice.
“Disguising my scent.”
A pulse ticked in his throat. “She should have given you a darker T-shirt. And panties, as well.”
Glancing down, she saw the wet fabric plastered to her skin. The soaked silk bra turned transparent, along with her lace panties, showing...everything.
Body taut, he clenched his fists, the green in his eyes flaring. Sam looked as if he struggled to contain himself.
“Cover yourself,” he ordered harshly.
Not moving, she gave him a defiant smile. “You look hot, Sam. The creek is nice and cool. Go for a swim.”
With a strangled sound, he removed his outer shirt and then tugged his T-shirt over his head. Whoa.
“Stop that,” she told him.
“Can’t go swimming with my clothes on.”
Sweat streamed down his back, and coated his face, the angles and planes glistening in the sunlight. The curve of his smooth biceps flexed as he tossed the shirt aside. Beneath Sam’s mocking, cheerful charm lurked an edge of controlled wildness.
Reaching for the zipper of his cargo pants, he met her gaze. She gave a small squeak.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Sam unzipped his pants and, in a swift move, pushed his pants and boxers down. Baring his body to all.
Her startled gaze met his heated one. Kelly glanced at the dark, curly hairs covering his sculpted chest, marching in a tempting line down his muscled abdomen to...
Not going there. She finally found her voice. “You don’t play fair.”
“Never did, sweetheart.”
“Sam, put your clothes on!”
“Do you really want me to?” he asked softly.
Need spiraled through her. Sam had been a tender, considerate lover.
He would not be so now. If they came together again, he would be primitive and possessive. Images shot through her mind: naked, tangled together, their bodies sweat-slicked as they surrendered to the overpowering desire and made love. Her gaze shot downward, past the ridge of muscle at his lean hips, down to his long, sleek limbs and then up to...
Whoa.
Straining upward from the dark hair at his groin, his thick penis was erect. Moisture gathered between her legs, her sex pulsing in natural response, her nipples tingling and hardened.
Oh, gods, she wanted him so badly.
The harsh sounds of his breath twined with the rush of the gurgling stream. Sam kicked off his pants and boxers and waded in. Her hungry gaze riveted to the smooth muscles of his taut ass.
Sam ducked beneath the water and turned over, his smoldering, predatory gaze riveted to hers.
Kelly’s heartbeat kicked into turbo as her breathing hitched. The space between her legs felt aching, open, her core pulsing in response to his naked body. She envisioned those strong hands holding her fast as his thick cock pushed deep inside her.
He wanted her, and she wanted him equally. Time had erased the emotions they had for each other, but it could not vanquish the searing heat. Circumstance and sorrow had dampened but not extinguished it. Now the same desire sparked into life once more.
All she had to do was shuck her clothes and join him. Their joining would be intense, passionate and blazing. Sam need only touch her and she’d have one shattering climax after another.... It had been so long since she’d had sex, too long since anyone had held her close....
Now Kelly did cover her breasts, hugging herself.
Not make love. Have sex.
Hot, steamy, deep-thrusting, clawing sex. Sex that would leave her feeling empty and alone afterward. The fire inside her died.
She couldn’t let this man grow close. Too much had happened, too much pain and regret. They would become lovers again, and then he’d hand her over to the Mages.
“Hijo de puta!” she snapped.
Sam stopped swimming.
Biting the inside of
her lip, she found her jeans and quickly dressed, her back to the stream.
Water splashed behind her. Sam stood before her, droplets of water from his bent head falling on her skin like tears. His voice was gentle as he lifted her chin to meet his concerned gaze. “What is it, Kel?”
You. Me. We can’t do this. We’re not the same kids we were, innocent and carefree.
Emotion clogged her throat. She clenched her fists. “Are you ready? Because we’re wasting time.”
She fussed with her backpack, avoiding his gaze. A damp T-shirt dangled before her.
“Put this on,” he said quietly. “It’s rank, but it will cover your natural scent when your own clothing dries.”
The fabric smelled like leather and sage and Sam. Kelly held it close and inhaled his scent. When she looked up, the predatory look flared on his face once more, as if he liked his shirt, his scent, covering her.
“Let’s move on,” she said in a shaky voice. “It’s not safe here.”
Truth was, no place was safe, not with Sam at her side and the ever-burning flame still shimmering between them, ready to sear them both.
Chapter 11
A while later, they found the unpaved road Rosa told them to take. However, either it was market day or everyone decided to go south. It had turned into a pedestrian superhighway. Men drove cattle ahead of them with long sticks. Flocks of women with woven baskets atop their heads gossiped as they walked. Students in plaid uniforms, worn backpacks over their skinny shoulders, headed home from school.
Behind thick bushes, Shay hunkered down, watching the traffic, Kelly behind him. They needed to blend with the locals. He glanced backward at Kelly. With her wide cornflower-blue eyes, delicate cheekbones and soft, smooth skin, she stood out like a living flame.
He remembered how she’d looked at the stream, a lush, redheaded Venus rising out of the water, and he bit back a hard kick of desire. Focus, Shay reminded himself.
“Is this the only way south?” he asked.
“There’s another, but we have to backtrack and it’s much more popular.” Her fingers wrapped around the triskele pendant. “Can we use magick to disguise ourselves?”
Traces of magick would alert other Mages, a neon sign in the darkness. But he worried more about the human posse of shotgun-wielding locals.
“We have no choice. No one would notice me much, but you?” He shook his head.
“I hid my hair. No one can see I’m a redhead.”
Shay’s gaze swept over her curvy body. “That’s not what will draw men’s attention. You’re too pretty to ignore.”
A faint flush colored her cheeks, heightening her sexual allure. Shay clenched his fists. Hell, other men? He worried more about himself.
“I wish you could shape-shift into a man,” he muttered.
“Okay.”
Closing her eyes, Kelly softly sang notes of ancient Celtic words as she gripped the triskele. Electrical energy charged the air, raising the little hairs on Shay’s nape. A vortex of gold and crimson sparks swirled around her body. As he puzzled over the phenomenon, the sparks faded.
His former lover vanished.
A dark-skinned man stood in her place. Gray hair hidden beneath a battered straw cowboy hat, the lanky man wore a faded checked shirt and plain cotton pants.
Shay glanced downward. Thick, hairy toes peeped out from worn leather sandals.
“Meet Juan Hernandez, a visitor to this town.”
Even her voice had deepened to a man’s timbre.
Suspicion filled him. Only Elementals had the power to shape-shift, and it was limited to Phantoms like himself.
Arcanes gained the power only when they’d killed a Phantom and siphoned all his magick. What if Senator Rogers was right? Was Kelly’s nonprofit a front for stealing Elemental children and killing them to enhance their powers?
The thought sickened him.
Shay’s hand automatically fell to his sidearm as he studied Kelly’s guileless expression. No darkness tinged her aura, only the normal crimson of an Arcane, interlaced with strong gold. Gold because of the triskele, he thought, glancing at the pendant. Either the medallion endowed Kelly with his magick, or the spell binding them together had fueled her with power.
He didn’t like this. But other priorities mattered more.
Removing the leather holster and pistol, Shay tucked them into his backpack. Damn, he hated not carrying, but packing would raise a few eyebrows.
Culling his magick, he focused. The change was almost instant, perfected by years of practice.
“Wow.” Her gaze widened. “Uh, very Freudian of you.”
She fished a small compact mirror from her pack and handed it over. Shay looked.
In the mirror, Kelly stared back. Silky red framing a heart-shaped face, cheeks tinted by a rosy flush. Shay licked his reddened, wet mouth.
What the hell?
“Do you mind? It’s very disconcerting seeing you as me.”
“I’m suddenly quite tempted to kiss myself.”
“Sam, please change into someone else. Anyone else. Even Senator Rogers is better.”
This was priceless. Shay grinned. “Hmm. I like this body. Feels nice.” He ran a hand over his new chest. “Very nice.”
Juan/Kelly’s cheeks darkened as he flushed. “Stop feeling me up. Or are you indulging in some private fantasy? One without me because you prefer it that way?”
Shay dropped the grin. “Never,” he said quietly. “I’ll always prefer the original model in my arms. No magick could ever duplicate her. She’s one of a kind.”
Kelly turned away, but not before he caught the glint of moisture in her now-dark eyes. Shay steeled himself against the urge to gather her into his arms and give comfort as he’d done in the past. He needed her sharp, alert and unemotional. Sympathy wouldn’t snap her out of it.
“Buck up, Juan. Real men don’t cry. If you’re going to go soft on me, turn back into a girlie girl.”
“I’m not crying, dammit.” Those thin shoulders tensed with pride.
Atta girl, he thought silently. Concentrating, he envisioned a pretty, shapely brunette. The mirror now showed a woman with dark hair and eyes, cheekbones sharp as blades, the stamp of ancient Mayan ancestry on her features. Shay smoothed his skirts and straightened the white peasant blouse.
Kelly flicked a hand at his chest. “A little much? You like skinny women with huge breasts?”
Far from it. He adored a woman with curves, whose soft body would cushion a man when he lay between her legs. A redhead with deep blue eyes sparkling with laughter and passion would suffice. Kelly.
Hell, no wonder he’d screwed up the shape-shifting.
“It’s a distraction. Men like to check out women, I gave myself big assets to draw attention to me and away from you. If we encounter any bounty hunters, most will be too busy staring at my chest to notice you.”
“And you know this because...why? You like to stare at women like that, too, Sam?”
He actually did not. Shay loved women, respected them too much. Oh, hell, he’d scope out a woman like other men, but he’d notice other things. The way she laughed, how she moved, how she interacted with others. Aggressive and bold or quiet and confident?
Kelly taught him that. He’d learned to see beyond appearance to the woman beneath. And now when he chose his female companions, never more than for a few nights of pleasure, their biggest assets were inside their heads.
“Call me Maria.” He pursed his lips and batted his lashes. “Sam doesn’t go well with this outfit. You’re my husband and we just recently married.”
“We make a great pair. Like matching salt and pepper shakers.”
No, we made a better pair when we were Sam and Kelly, long ago.
But he said nothing as they stepped out onto the road.
* * *
The disguises worked. No one gave them more than a cursory glance as they walked to the next town, although Shay had to remind Kelly to rein in her natural grace
.
Men didn’t sway their hips.
Crumbling adobe buildings with sagging corrugated metal roofs lined the narrow streets. Women sat beneath faded beach umbrellas, selling roasted corn and mangoes. Shay spotted a sign reading El Nuevo Comodor. The restaurant had a cracked window and peeling paint, contradicting its boast of such newness. He checked the sun’s position. Time to give Dakota a sitrep. The restaurant was nearly empty.
While Kelly went to the ladies’ room, Shay fished his cell from his pack and punched in LT’s number. The phone rang. No answer. Either Dakota was out of range or something had happened. He left a voice mail.
When she returned, they bought water and snacks from the restaurant, earning a small smile from the owner. As they made their way down the cracked sidewalk, wending through a gaggle of women selling fruit from woven baskets, a chicken bus stopped. The ancient school bus, painted in wild colors, waited for a herd of goats to cross the street. A man hung an elbow out the bus window, his sharpened gaze raking over the street. The faint red glow of his aura pulsed. Shay tensed, bracing for action.
“Maria, I am very hungry for a delicious mango. Don’t these look good?” Juan/Kelly asked in halting Spanish.
The passenger’s gaze whipped over to Kelly. He lifted something from his lap. A shotgun.
Juan/Kelly glanced up and saw the gun. Blood drained from her face. Sam squeezed Kelly’s arm in silent warning and pointed to the mango basket. She bent her head, examining the ripe fruit. He itched to have his Sig in hand. The weapon was part of him.
But the disguise was more effective. He adjusted the white blouse to show a tantalizing glimpse of generous cleavage. Nearby men began studying him and moved closer to the mango seller’s stand. Murmurs of frank male appreciation followed.
The shotgun-carrying passenger in the bus riveted his gaze to Sam’s chest.
Give them a show. Sam moistened his mouth and bent over to pull two ripe mangoes from the basket, showing a generous display of cleavage. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw shotgun man lean out of the window, his interest fully engaged.
Juan/Kelly fished bills out of a wallet to pay the beaming seller. Finally, the bus rambled past. Shoulders hunched, Kelly stared at the ground.