Captive of the Beast

by Lisa Renee Jones

  He had to have more. He had to…the Beast in him suddenly latched on to his control. Desperate to rein in his urges, thankful for the dark that shielded him from her gaze, he thrust hard against the demand of his body. Over and over he thrust, lunged, delved deep into her body—using the fire in his loins to control the burn of the Beast.

  Laura answered him with pleasure, crying out a moment before the spasms of her orgasm pulled him deeper, stroking his hard length with her release. Again, the urge to sink his teeth into her shoulder, to claim her, washed over him again. One last, desperate thrust, and he exploded inside her with such intensity his body shook until they eased into one another, still pressed close together. He didn’t want to move, afraid of losing the short time he had with her. Instead, he rolled onto his back and pulled her with him. She sighed and snuggled to his side. Her hand reached up and brushed his jaw before settling in the center of his chest. The tenderness of the act stole his breath. He’d experienced nothing like that in fifty years, perhaps in a lifetime.

  He stared into the darkness, his heart thudding so hard against his chest he was certain she could hear it. He could never give her the life she wanted, but holding her now, he wished that weren’t true. In the dark, hidden from the rest of the world, they had come together—they were one. But he could not escape the cold, hard reality that the light of a new day would soon bring upon them. That light would shine on the differences, on the walls of separation between them. She could never know the key she held to his salvation. That knowledge would take away her freedom, obligate her to be with him by destiny, not choice. And she would feel obligated. He’d seen how she embraced her patient’s needs and sacrificed for their happiness.

  Laura would escape this island; she would be safe. He’d make sure of it. He had to give her a happiness beyond a life with him; he had to be willing to walk away. And he couldn’t find the strength to do that by staying in her bed. But his need for her was too strong. Tomorrow he’d clear his head, he decided, and he’d face reality. Tomorrow he’d be a Knight, a soldier, a warrior with his mission. He stroked her shoulder and pulled her closer. Tomorrow.

  Chapter 13

  Laura blinked, fighting the haze of heavy slumber; an irritating stream of light was cascading from the nearby window straight into her face. She inched farther back on her pillow, moving away from the offending sunbeam. Snuggling farther beneath the blankets, she started to fall back to sleep.

  Her eyes snapped open, and she surveyed the bed. Realization slammed into her mind. She was in bed, his bed, alone—naked, but thankfully covered by blankets. The sound of a running shower caught her attention. She lifted her head, noting the bathroom door, slightly ajar, a few feet away. Rinehart was in the shower. A visual of him whipped through her mind, water streaming over his lithe male perfection. She dropped her head back onto the pillow, cursing the distraction created by that man and his muscle, willing it away. But more distraction followed. Memories washed over her, sensual, wonderful memories. But it was morning now, and her night of escape had passed. The new day forced her to face the complications of those memories, choices she would have to live with.

  A thought occurred to her, and she chastised herself. She’d never considered a condom. Not for a minute. And her a doctor! Thank God she’d taken the pill for years, although not because she was having sex.

  She glanced at the clock and focused on the urgency of the here and now. It was seven-thirty. She had an hour and a half until the kids were scheduled to be in the lab. That gave her time to shower, check on Kresley and not much more. But she had to make time. Because what she hadn’t prioritized with Rinehart, and what should have been at the top of her list, were her questions—even though she dreaded the answers. Her stomach fluttered thinking about it. Perhaps subconsciously she’d allowed herself to put off the inevitable discussion to come, no matter how necessary. The prior evening she’d been able to read Rinehart’s emotions. He didn’t want to tell her what was in store for her, not because he was trying to be deceitful, but because he didn’t think she was going to like what he had to say. Regardless, she wasn’t leaving here without those answers.

  The shower stopped running. Laura tugged the covers to her chest and sat up, her gaze searching. Her dress might as well have been miles away. Pooled on the floor, it would take some doing to get to it without her blanket. She contemplated going for it, but hesitated. Damn Walch and his cameras. She wondered if Kresley and Carol were being subjected to his perverted monitoring. They probably were. An unfamiliar emotion surfaced: a red-hot desire to make Walch pay for all he had done.

  “It’ll be over soon.”

  Laura’s gaze rocketed to the bathroom door as the sound of Rinehart’s voice tore her away from her dark thoughts but brought with it a new turbulence. How had he known what she was thinking? Could he read her mind? Could he mask some of his emotions? New fears surfaced about him manipulating her desire.

  Her attention riveted to his face, she was ready to demand the truth—but the words died in her throat as she took in the sight of him.

  Rinehart loomed in the doorway with nothing but a small white towel roped around his lean hips. Rippling abdominals glistened with droplets of water, and her imagination didn’t need any help to conjure what was beneath that towel.

  Slowly, her gaze traveled over his waist and his chest, then lifted to his face. “I guess I still need convincing,” she said, cynical not by choice but by necessity. But she wanted him to give her a reason to let go of doubt, wanted him to say something to make her believe in his words.

  He offered a blank stare in response. Her fears mounted. Had she read him wrong in the heat of passion? Silence fell between them, thick and unnerving. Desperately she searched for a connection. Her ability to read his emotions was useless. He’d become distant, untouchable on all levels. He’d become the enemy again or…something. She didn’t know what.

  A man who regretted his actions? A man who blamed her for one of his men being injured and now he wanted to get the hell away from her? She narrowed her gaze on him and decided that was it. Opening her mouth to ask about Lucan, she had second thoughts, not wanting to make matters worse. She wasn’t sure what to do. Rinehart’s coldness had blocked her ability to read him. It seemed he confused her senses easily. She struggled to get a grip on what was happening.

  It was Rinehart who broke the silence, and the conversation detoured to new and just as unsettling territory. “I took the liberty of going to your room early this morning and picking up clothes and a few items on your bathroom sink.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You did what?” she demanded. “You went into my room?” Her hand went to her throat, where her breath seemed to hang. Every bit of privacy and control she’d believed she’d owned had been stripped away. She didn’t even want to know how he’d managed to get into her room. No doubt Walch had given him a key.

  “I assumed you wouldn’t want to leave my room looking as if you’d spent the night,” he said coolly, apparently unaffected by her reaction.

  Her hand covered her face a moment, the other still clinging to the blanket. “I shouldn’t even be here,” she murmured. But now that she was, leaving in a wrinkled, day-old dress with no shoes would be an attention grabber to anyone who saw her exit. She hugged the sheet a bit closer and cast him a direct look, firming her voice to a facade of calm. “I appreciate the clothes. Wherever they are.”

  “In the bathroom,” he said flatly. And that was it. He said nothing more. He wasn’t giving her anything to go on here. No help getting past this naked moment waking up in his bed.

  Could this be any more awkward? “Ah. Yes. Thanks. Don’t know how I am going to take a shower with the cameras, but thanks.” Her chin indicated the dress where it lay on the floor. “Don’t suppose you could hand that to me?” His eyes narrowed a bit, darkened; finally, she saw a hint of fire in them. Fire he quickly banked.

  He tore his gaze from hers before he made a frustrated sound, took s
everal steps and scooped up her dress. He stood beside the bed, his towel precariously low and right in her line of sight.

  She snatched the dress from his hand and turned her head away. The dress balled in her hands as she awaited his departure. She wasn’t going to struggle to pull it on and hold the sheet with him watching.

  “Once you’re dressed,” he said, with that same flat tone she found she didn’t like one bit, “we’ll talk.”

  “You won’t get an argument from me on that,” she said, glancing up at him just in time to note a spark of twisted emotion in those deep blue eyes. He wanted her, but wished he didn’t.

  “I feel the same,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

  His brows dipped. “What?” he asked, lowering his gaze.

  “Nothing,” she replied, and decided it was time to get out of his bed. Cutting her gaze from his, she maneuvered the dress over her head, struggling to keep the blanket in place.

  When she finally completed her task, she straightened and found Rinehart was gone. She scrambled to the side of the bed and stood up, tugging the dress down her legs. She hesitated, not sure what to do now.

  He reappeared in the doorway partially dressed in similar attire to what he and his team had worn the previous day. Well-pressed Dockers. Boots. A white dress shirt he was buttoning. “The bathroom has no windows. Crack the door and turn off the light. The camera won’t pick up anything but shadows, and you should see well enough to be okay.”

  She thought of all the times she’d dressed and undressed, all the long baths to ease the day’s stresses. “I hate that he’s watching.”

  “He’ll pay for what he’s done before this is over.” The words were low, lethal, the emotions he’d suppressed spiking with a quick jab, overflowing into her. “I’ll be waiting for you in the other room.”

  He walked away then, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Confused, overwrought by a combination of her own emotions and Rinehart’s, Laura walked toward the bathroom and flipped off the light. She stared into the darkness, and anger burned in her gut. She wanted Walch to pay. She hated that she felt such a thing, but nevertheless, she did. Her father had often preached about the danger of driving one’s actions out of anger. Soldiers didn’t operate on emotion, he would say. But he hadn’t understood what she did now. Everyone acted on emotions. Emotions controlled and manipulated.

  Walch had crossed a line. He’d invaded more than her privacy. He’d stolen the hopes and dreams that she’d promised her kids. She was angry. But she couldn’t allow those things to eat her alive or she’d end up no better than him. She had to use that anger to refocus on her goals.

  Somehow she had to keep her promises to her kids. If Rinehart could help her with that, fine. If not, then he was, indeed, the enemy.

  Rinehart sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee, replaying the list of reasons he should keep his distance from Laura. But more than all of them, being around her seemed to drive the Beast in him closer to the surface. The more he put temptation in his path, the more he feared he would become dangerous. All these things made sense. Except for one issue: How was he going to keep his distance from Laura and maintain the necessary facade in front of the cameras for Walch? He wasn’t. The more under his control Walch believed Laura to be, the easier it would be to keep Walch at bay until their escape. Which meant Rinehart was in trouble. Because already this morning, seeing her in a bed, naked—a mere reach from being beneath him again—had him fighting the Beast within. The desire he bore for her was damn near uncontrollable.

  Abruptly, the bedroom door opened and he set his cup down, preparing for the impact he knew she would have on him. The instant she appeared, his heart hammered in his chest.

  She hesitated at the door, casting him a look full of trepidation before walking toward him. The sleek lines of the navy dress he’d chosen for her outlined her slender curves; a determined look was etched on her beautiful face. The rose-color lipstick she wore was alluring and impossible to miss against the pale perfection of her ivory skin.

  Her hands curled around the back of the chair directly across from him. “How is Lucan?”

  Regret twisted him in knots. “Lucan will be fine, Laura.”

  She didn’t look convinced. “You’re sure? Can I check out his wounds? See if I can help?”

  “That’s not necessary,” he said. “He’s amazingly resilient.” His lips thinned. “I regret the way I told you what happened.”

  She studied him a moment, as if searching for something. Then she said, “You were upset about your man just as I am worried about my patients.” She inched the chair away from the table to sit down.

  “Beside me,” he said, standing up and offering her the chair to his right. Again she hesitated, uncertainty in her expression. No doubt because of his behavior in the bedroom. He’d been withdrawn, cold. She’d been alluringly naked, and he’d been desperate to restrain himself, struggling with the best way to handle their attraction. Staying close to her outside the bedroom was the only answer he could come up with.

  “The camera’s still rolling,” he warned. “The more Walch believes you are under my control, the more time he will give us to escape.”

  Laura cast him an unblinking stare; the displeasure at his answer was evident in her green eyes. “You’re sure the audio is scrambled?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, confident after talking with Max on the beach the night before. The other Knight had created some sort of dual computer virus that attacked Walch’s communications and electronics systems as a cover. A text message that morning from Max had confirmed the virus was still functioning. No doubt their tech guys were climbing the walls trying to fix it.

  She studied him a moment, as if she might ask questions. Instead, she nodded, seemingly satisfied with whatever she found in his face—or maybe in his emotional mojo or whatever it was she read—because she sat next to him. He then walked to the kitchen and filled a coffee cup for her, setting it and vanilla creamer in front of her before claiming his seat again. She frowned at the creamer. “How did you—?”

  “It’s yours. So is the coffee. I figured the empty pot that came with my apartment wouldn’t do us much good.” He shrugged. “And you might as well use it before we go.”

  “I see,” she said primly. That proper little scientist from the lab shone through once again as she poured creamer into her coffee. “When exactly would that be?”

  “Monday, at sunrise.”

  She hesitated, her cup halfway to her lips. “How?”

  “Helicopter.”

  She shook her head, setting her cup down and pushing it out of the way. “You can’t sneak a helicopter into a military facility unnoticed.”

  “You can if you have a tech whiz like Max. He’s arranging it to look like training missions are being run nearby. By the time they realize we’ve deviated from the flight plan, we’ll be gone.”

  She leaned back in her chair, her attention fixed on his face, her stare unwavering. “I’d ask how Max manages all this stuff, but that isn’t the real question. It goes back to what I asked last night.” A pause, deep scrutiny. “Who are you, Rinehart? And what do you want from me?”

  Rinehart had anticipated this question and given great consideration to how to handle it, concluding there was no way around some hard truths. “We’re Hunters, Laura. A group of covert soldiers who hunt this group Walch is involved with. It’s what we do and why we exist. When you found yourself on their radar, our radar followed.”

  Her reply came slow, her words measured. “What are they, exactly? Some sort of cult?”

  “That’s a relatively accurate description. A cult that has inhuman abilities. We call them the Darkland Beasts because they originate from a certain territory in Mexico and because of their violent nature.”

  “Stop saying inhuman,” she said, her spine straight as a steel rod. “No matter how evil they are, having special abilities does not make you inhuman.”

  Damn it, she w
asn’t listening. He moved his chair around, faced her directly; then he reached for her chair and turned her to face him. She gasped with surprise but he didn’t care. He pinned her in a hard stare. “Beasts are damn near invincible. Shoot them and they don’t die. Cut them and they heal almost instantly. And they’re strong, Laura. And they’re fast.” He had no intention of outright telling her they were Demons—not yet. This was close enough. There were other hard truths she had to face first. “They are not like you, Laura, and if you continue to try and make all people with special abilities like you, you’ll end up dead or under their control.” He sucked in air through his teeth and let it out. “And I can’t let that happen.”

  “I knew there were others like us,” she whispered. “Others who would abuse their abilities.”

  He ground his teeth. “They are not like you. They were not born this way. They were created.”

  “What?” she asked, her eyes going wide, her expression registering shock. But as he expected, she wasn’t as shocked as someone who hadn’t seen the things she’d seen inside her lab and in her own life. “What do you mean, ‘created’?”

  “They were all once—” he hesitated, struggling to keep the word normal out of his description “—without abilities.” He scrubbed his jaw, looked at her. Considered. Decided they had to get some of this out in the open. “Look. Here is the cold, hard truth. You’re dangerous in their hands. The others, your patients, they aren’t the real targets. The twins are strong—that means nothing. The Beasts are strong. Kresley and Blake have skills they want, but they are only two people. They only matter in the big picture of things if cloned. Once they clone the skills, they can take those humans and turn them into Beasts. Then they will have a new army with all the skills of the past and new ones to boot.”