Interra (Awakened Series Book 5)

by Harley Austin

  Spencer sat next to her, loosening his tie and then slipping it off onto the seat. “You know, Serena,” he unbuttoned his collar along with several more buttons, opening his shirt wide to the point where Serena could now see smooth well-cut pectorals beneath it. “I could make all of this very serious trouble you’re now in with the law just disappear.” As close as he was, she could somehow feel his warmth; his masculine scent hitting her like a freight train. Serena didn’t like the man at all, but somehow her body was just not getting that message. Her clit tingled, growing firm beneath the liner her thin shorts as his scent filled her senses.

  “It’s just you and I in here. No one can see in,” he assured with a calm, swooning voice that had her almost convinced. He still wasn’t touching her, but she could tell he wanted to. The handsome agent wasn’t hard on the eyes at all. And the way he talked to her now was smooth; charming even. She watched him slip completely out of his jacket and shirt. Nicely built and smoothly cut, he lifted an arm against the back of the seat. Serena’s mind tore in different directions. He was trying to seduce her—and not at all trying to hide it from her. But while her mind reeled in disgust from the way he had just treated her minute ago, her body warred with her just the opposite. With his muscular arm raised over the back of the bench seat, her nose caught the fine masculine scent of his body. She drew a rippled breath. Her sudden attraction to him was uncanny. What was he doing to her?

  “You can touch me. It’s fine. I don’t mind.” He offered openly. “I know you want to.”

  She did want to. Her hips rocked again in the seat. Spencer leaned in a little closer. “You’re very beautiful, Serena. It’s okay to touch.”

  He watched her lifting her hand. He moved his pectoral closer as her hand softly touched his smooth, fine tanned skin.

  His warm skin felt electrifying to her. She didn’t want to be touching his chest but her body, it was like she just wasn’t listening to herself. He moved in closer, his hand now slipping seductively between her thighs as one of her knees lifted instinctively apart from the other, his face moving closer to hers. She felt his fingers moving over the outside of her shorts between her legs—his touch was sending electric waves of emotion all through her. She wanted him touching her like this. Needed him closer to her. She opened her pout, wanting him to kiss her. His lips and warm breath hovered close to hers. She felt his fingers smoothing over her hand that held Rion’s ring, softly opening her hand. His lips meeting hers.

  His hand over hers touched the band.

  Serena wasn’t sure what had just happened. Spencer flew into the far seat and against the heavy glass of the window with a heavy thud.

  From outside the vehicle, the parked rig seemed to rock as if it had hit a huge speed bump at high speed.

  Spencer quickly shook off the momentary stun of the ring’s defense. He glared at her. “Fine!”

  Serena now clasped the band even tighter in her hand, pulling it against her chest.

  “You have no idea who or what you’re dealing with, Miss Erickson,” he pointed to her hand. “Trust me.”

  She shook her head at him. “I don’t believe you!”

  “It doesn’t matter what you believe at this point. You know I could arrest you right now?” He began tossing his shirt back on.

  “I haven’t done anything!” she protested, a wave a fear now moving through her.

  “You have actually. You’ve lied to me. You’re obviously protecting him. That in and of itself makes you an accessory to international espionage. I could easily put you away for the next twenty years—if not longer.”

  “No! NO. I haven’t done anything!” she continued.

  “Do you want to go to federal prison? Your whole family will be instigated, even arrested. You’ll be and old woman by the time they let you out.”

  “NO!”

  “Then you had better start cooperating with us, Miss Erickson.”

  Serena nodded. She watched as agent Spencer re-tucked his shirt, catching a glimpse of his tented boxer briefs before he zipped his suit pants and re-buckled his belt.

  “You are this close to being indicted as Steele’s accomplice,” Spencer made a firm motion with his thumb and first finger. “I am making you aware of that. Do you understand?”

  Serena didn’t know what else to do, she just nodded, holding the ring tightly.

  “The truth be told, I’m not the one you should be afraid of. The fact is terrible things happen to people who ally themselves with Mr. Steele and his underworld empire. You won’t be the first girlfriend he’s murdered to keep her quiet after he’s through with you.”

  Serena’s face grew pale.

  Spencer threw on his suit jacket again.

  “I can keep all of this from happening to you, Serena, but the government will need your cooperation. We can give you immunity, but—”

  Serena held out her hand as if to give agent Spencer the ring.

  He shook his head. The last thing he needed right now was that damn thing touching him.

  “No. Just keep it.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Pictures of the inside of his apartment would be a good start. I have your cell number. Text them back to me. Once I can see that you’re cooperating I’ll prepare the immunity agreement.”

  Serena nodded again.

  “And, I would keep this little conversation between you and I confidential. If there are any leaks, if he suspects you’re working for the police, your life is as good as over. Am I being clear here?”

  “Very.” She nodded, her voice quiet.

  “Good. I’ll be in touch, Miss Erickson.” The vehicle door opened. The agent outside waited for her to exit. She just stood in the parking lot and watched as the SUVs drove away.

  From inside the vehicle, Spencer studied the troubled emotions that raced across Serena’s face while sliding his tie around his neck again. The other agent who had entered the rig beside him, a tall head-shaved black man, removed his earpiece. “That was interesting. Not exactly by the book,” he quipped in a deep voice.

  “I almost had it—and her. Sensuous bitch.”

  “You won’t be able to touch her as long as she’s wearing that thing.”

  “It won’t matter. It’s not really her I’m after. It’s Steele I want.”

  “First you go after his girlfriend and now you want Zeus himself? You’re fucking insane. You know that?”

  Spencer glared at him, his eyes flashing a psionic fire. “Not. Hardly.”

  18

  S erena sat on her bed, despondent, confused, angry, and hurt. She ridiculed herself for falling for him so quickly, and allowing Rion to so easily pull her into his clandestine underworld. With Rion away in London, she’d had nearly a week to think about her relationship with him, what he did, and what they shared together as a couple. But federal agents? Showing up at her door? Threatening her and her family with arrest? That added a whole new level of serious reservations about their relationship. And not very friendly federal agents either. They obviously wanted Rion and in a big way; and they weren’t afraid to intimidate or even drag her into their investigation as a pawn to get to him—that was patently obvious now.

  But Rion worked for the same government they did; well, at least that’s what he said anyway. What if that part of his story was a lie? She had no way of knowing if anything Rion told her was true.

  Her phone rang. She looked at the screen. Part of her was hoping it was Rion so she could give him a piece of her mind and break it off. But Agent Spencer said he wanted pictures of Rion’s apartment. Could he really do this to her? Make her part of the investigation? In any event, she didn’t recognize the number. Maybe it was Spencer trying to contact her? She didn’t want to talk to him right now anyway. She let it ring again until it went silent. She frowned and just turned it off.

  What she really needed now was a run. To push the thought of the shirtless Agent Spencer coming onto her out of her mind, and give her some time to
think and clear her head about Rion. Serena shuddered, grabbed her visor, and headed out to the trails, slamming the door behind her—on her desk lay her turned-off phone, and sitting right next to it, the thick gold band and chain she had been clasping earlier in her hands.

  * * * * *

  The weather in London had turned dreary again. Rion was glad to finally be back in the States and back in sunny San Antonio. He turned into the building garage and rounded the ramps to his parking space. He rode the elevator to the top floor and entered, setting his keys and things on the table.

  Then suddenly he froze. An older, slightly overweight man sat in one of the chairs of his living room; he was dressed in typical, well-used southwestern attire. He flipped mostly disinterested through one of Rion’s magazines. Rion studied him for several moments. He had never seen the man in his life, and he felt no danger from the old man at all. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t. Rion was cautious as he entered his living room, passing by the old man.

  “Most folks prefer to knock first,” Rion offered, walking past the cowboy to the wet bar.

  “They do. But you don’t exactly have a welcome sign on your front door,” the stranger replied. “Or a doorbell.”

  “I don’t; I prefer it that way.”

  “Most of us do,” he said getting up with a strain. He took a deep breath and gazed at Rion with a worn, studied look. Rion returned a similar gaze.

  “You look human,” Rion offered, “but obviously you're not.”

  “Now what makes you say that?” he offered in a fine Texas drawl with a kind smile.

  “A human doesn't just walk into my apartment.”

  “No—I suppose not,” the man admitted.

  “Something to drink?” Rion offered politely. The truth was, anyone who was able to breach the defenses of the tower unnoticed was not someone Rion wanted to be inhospitable toward.

  “Thank you, anything is fine.”

  Rion poured some of his family label and offered the stranger a square glass. The old man thanked Rion again and took a large swallow of the Blue.

  “Well,” the old cowboy savored the sensations of the sacred drink approvingly, “your family hasn’t lost their touch. Excellent as always.” The stranger smiled, sipping more from his glass. He walked past Rion to the window to take in the late morning view. For long moments the old man just stared out the window looking at apparently nothing in particular. Rion stepped up beside the tall cowboy looking out the window as well. Rion grew intrigued by the old man. He felt—familiar somehow.

  “Rion, your little Garden of Eden here is about to become the focus of some very powerful people. I thought you might want to be aware of it.”

  “What sort of focus? What people? Who are you?”

  “Oh, where are my manners? I’m Henry,” he said extending a hand which Rion shook firmly.

  “I know you’ve been going through a lot lately, Rion. The loss of your parents was a shame. There’s not many of you left now.”

  “You seem to know a lot more about me than I know of you, Henry,” Rion offered, taking a large swallow from his glass.

  “I do,” he assured. “The fact is, Rion, there’s a lot more about your family that you have yet to learn.”

  “Oh? Does that have anything to do with these people you’re talking about? Who are they?”

  The old Texan looked directly into Rion’s gaze. “Deadly.”

  The ominous tone in Henry’s voice sent an unwelcomed chill over Rion’s skin. He didn’t like the sound of Henry’s answer. “This is all very cryptic, Henry. I could use a bit more detail.”

  “Not to be rude, Rion, but—it’s not my problem,” Henry offered, handing his empty glass back to Rion. “The prophecies being what they are, I’m already meddling more than I prefer.” Henry left the window to gather his hat. A photo of Serena drew his attention on the table next to the chair and he picked it up.

  “Your lady friend?”

  “She is.”

  Henry set the photo carefully back as he had found it. “She’s very pretty,” he offered smiling.

  Rion nodded.

  “There won’t be many of these Invicti, Rion. In case you weren’t aware of that. Like uncut jewels. Diamonds in the rough. She needs to be awakened. I assume you were planning on doing that at some point?”

  “She’s not ready, Henry.”

  The old man scoffed. “Hell, none a’ you are.”

  Rion frowned.

  “Not tryin’ to throw cold water, Rion, but if we all waited until we were ready for somethin’, we’d all learn nothing.”

  Rion nodded. “These people you came to warn me about, what should I be doing?”

  “Nothing,” Henry offered. “Nothing you can do about them, not at the moment. You should, however, keep a very close eye on this lady friend of yours. She’s in more danger right now than you know.”

  Rion bolted quickly past his mystery guest and then vanished in sudden blast of shifting air that blew leaves off the potted trees, moved furniture and knocked expensive knickknacks from their shelves. Finding out who the old-timer was would have to wait. Rion’s mind was now very focused on one thing and one thing only––finding Serena, and fast.

  * * * * *

  Beside the campus were the trails; nicely paved paths that ran for miles in all directions through woods and parks. Some were even lit at night and all were highly used during the day by anyone with a bike, rollerblades, or running shoes. Serena’s favorite was the one that ran beside the river. The water was peaceful and calming to her spirit and that was something she really needed right now. She was dressed for running, but as unsettled as her spirit was at the moment, she walked slowly, pensively trying to sort out the mess she found herself in.

  The water flowing lazily in the stream along the path gave her only a little comfort. Her spirit at war, she only grew more confused with how she felt about Rion and the events of their nights together at his apartment and the ill-mannered feds this morning. She wondered if agent Spencer was right about Rion—had he really killed people? Just to keep them quiet? And Spencer coming on to her like he had. Was she really only attracted to arrogant jerks? But she had to admit, Spencer smelled nice. At least her body thought so. She felt really attracted to him, but—why?

  Immersed almost completely in her thoughts she nearly bumped into someone standing on the path. She looked up startled to see a middle-aged man staring at her. He was brawny with leathery skin and a military haircut.

  Embarrassed, she apologized quickly, “Oh—I’m, I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m not.” The man quickly pushed a cloth over Serena’s face holding it very strongly over her mouth and nose. She tried to scream, but she only succeeded in drawing into her lungs an acrid small of something that was all over the cloth. She tried to break free but his hands and arms were unbelievably powerful.

  The world around Serena suddenly blurred. She lost her balance as the strength in her limbs fled. She felt herself crumple over the man’s shoulder. He lifted her with a quick pace into the surrounding woods and well away from the paved trails. She was still awake but she couldn’t move. Her heart raced as her lungs seemed to strain for oxygen. Horror filled her mind and she forgot whatever it was she had been thinking about. She struggled against the drug invading her body but found every movement too weak to do anything.

  The brawny man laid Serena on a bed of leaves in short underbrush deep inside the woods and away from anyone’s sight. Her attempts at screams came out only as raspy gasps. He stuffed some cloth into her mouth and clicked metal cuffs around her wrists and ankles. Lifting her arms over her head, she heard him ‘click’ the cuffs to something metal, a short heavy chain that protruded out of the ground. Another chain held her feet now.

  Hovering over her, the burly thick-muscled man watched her struggle against the restraints holding her fast as the quick-acting drug invading her body now waned as fast as it had overcome her. Her vision cleared. The numbness was fading, an
d she could feel her strength returning, but restrained by the cuffs, Serena had no way to fight back, no way to escape. She pulled and jerked her hands and feet against the chains, but all she seemed to be able to do was entice her captor as he watched her writhe in her running clothes within the underbrush trying to escape.

  From a sheath under his shirt, the big man produced a large, wide blade. He spread his knees over her shoes and began cutting the laces slowly, one by one; all the while watching Serena attempt to struggle in vain against her metal bindings. It was like he was watching her, savoring the fear in her eyes as he watched her body struggle against the restraints. He seemed to take some kind of twisted pleasure in seeing her attempt to escape her bonds.

  With her laces now cut, the man slipped off and tossed her shoes and short socks away. She was struggling hard, jerking her ankles against the chain—until she felt the side of his knife moving over her leg. She suddenly stopped fighting, not wanting the sharp edge of the knife to cut her. She felt him slowly slide the bare metal up to the inside of her thigh until it came to her pink running shorts. She felt the cool steel slip under the leg of her shorts, then felt its sharp edge slice through the soft outer material of her nylon shorts, cutting them open as if they were nothing. She breathed wildly through her nose, fear all over her face, feeling the outer layer of her shorts being lifted away by the sharp blade, exposing the near sheer pink lining beneath them.

  He moved over her, not really touching her, as if smelling her body around her thighs, his nose lingering over the thin liner. He drew several deep breaths, a look of savage glee written all over his face. Serena struggled now even more as she watched the large man quickly remove his boots. He then slipped off his shirt. Serena could see he was much larger than most men, hairless and husky, with a thick burly military build. She struggled harder now, watching him slip out of his khaki camouflage pants until all he wore were short white trunk boxers, the front of them tented with his swollen male.