A Shadow's Embrace

by Carnes, Cara

  “I’m good.” Dagan motioned toward the opposite side of the street. “Diaz is running the street op. If you’re in, you report to him. Indy’s with him.”

  “Cool.” Patch nodded and turned. “Take care of our man. Rider’s good people.”

  Dagan remained silent as Patch and his vagabond crew of kids trekked across the street to merge with Diaz’s burgeoning force. “Things keep going like this and we’ll have all of Chicago here.”

  “Diaz assured me most of his crew is familiar with this area. This is their turf. No one will blink if they’re hanging around.”

  “Good to know.” Dagan didn’t like being away from Devyn with Conver’s crew this close. “Let’s do this.”

  The two of them rendezvoused with the rest of the team and made quick work of establishing the comm links. Ace double-checked everyone’s earpieces and tracking devices before green-lighting the op from the portable command center, a black fifteen-passenger cargo van halfway up the street.

  The team was in position, surrounding the exterior of the building for a triple-point entry. All intel indicated Rider was being held in a mostly vacant sector of the third floor, just high enough up to create a problem if shit went south.

  “Mark.”

  Dagan’s gut clenched as they waited for verification that the systems were down.

  “Done. They’re still up, looping cleared footage.” Devyn’s confidence settled the angst building in him.

  Rex’s team encountered a minor skirmish on the first floor while Dagan’s squad handled three armed soldiers within the second floor stairwell. The fight was violent, but quick.

  Too easy.

  “These are all Conver’s low-level men,” Trent stated through the comm. “I’m feeling a bit insulted.”

  “Clearly he didn’t expect us to intervene,” Kaeden stated.

  “Or there’s no one alive to cover anymore,” Dagan mumbled. None of it made sense, but they continued with the op, clearing any barriers they ran across. By the time they hit the third floor, unease prickled along his spine and chewed his gut.

  Gunfire erupted, ricocheting off the door behind then. Dagan fell into a roll and shot toward the hail of bullets. Screams pierced the enclosed space.

  “Clear,” Dare stated.

  He and Corbin secured the perimeter while Dagan made his way to the center of the gutted room. Rider hung from chains, his condition worse than anticipated. Dagan pulled out his lock picks and worked the lock. The man was dead weight when the manacles securing him fell away.

  Thank fuck. A pulse. Weak, but there.

  Hang on, man. We’ve got you.

  “Package secured.” Dagan grunted under the weight as he shouldered his weapon and secured him in a hold. “Move out.”

  “Status, Diaz.” Kaeden’s request set the pace as Dagan and his team headed toward the extraction point. Two minutes to exit the building.

  “Hold for status,” Diaz replied.

  Hold for status? What the fuck? They were either clear or not. It wasn’t rocket science.

  “I’m going to hold status his ass when this finishes,” Dare muttered beside him as he shoved a door open and secured the stairwell.

  “Perimeter clear.” There was an edge of unease, fear in Diaz's voice that punctuated the comm link with a burst of adrenaline. Something was wrong.

  They hit the street and loaded into the waiting cargo van. The vehicle tore off as Dare and Dagan began checking Rider’s vitals. Fuck. Not good. Six minutes to the rendezvous point. Hopefully he could make it.

  The van ground to a halt a few short minutes later. Dagan had managed to stave the worst of the knife wounds, but blood was still running out at a disheartening speed. Fuck. There was so much blood.

  The side door slid open, and Patch leaped in, determination on his face. His voice boomed as he looked over his shoulder. “Everyone out. Now. Nels, you and Reg get in here. I need backup.”

  Dagan sat back, remaining in the vehicle despite the kids’ triple glares. They worked quickly, efficiently, as Patch barked orders and processed their unconscious patient with shockingly decisive accuracy.

  The three collapsed against the side of the van, their faces pale. High-fiving one another, they regarded Rider with joy evident on their face.

  Dagan breathed pure relief.

  “How is he?” Devyn hustled into the van and stared down at the unmoving Rider.

  “He’s good,” Patch said. “We took care of him.”

  “I owe you.” She turned her attention on the three kids. “You’re too pale. You shouldn’t have used so much energy. Rider won’t be happy if he wakes up and you’re ghost white.”

  The three kids chuckled.

  “Seriously, we owe you.” Devyn squeezed Patch’s hand. “I know this was hard, working with Shadows, taking orders from Diaz. I appreciate it.”

  “They weren’t so bad,” he grumbled as he fiddled with a band around his wrist. “We were talking earlier while the op was going down. We’re thinking we’ll get back with Diaz and his crew, have their backs. Diaz says there’s lots of peeps who could use our help. We’d be like a mini Indigo Order.”

  “Diaz is good people.”

  “Yeah.” Patch motioned toward Dagan. “Your guy done good getting him secured before they got here. Rider was bad. I’ll need to juice him a few times probably.”

  “I’m thinking he’d rather you just visit him. Knowing the SEO, they have lots of people on standby to help Rider.” Devyn lowered her voice. “You’re more than your power, Patch. You’re family. You don’t need an excuse to be around. None of you do.”

  “It’s the street way. You do for someone, they do for you.”

  “You’re more than the street. You’re family.” The emotion churned between them. Dagan could see the change on their faces as they nodded. “I’ll always do for you, no matter what.”

  “Well, we’re heading out. Cadence said something about burgers down at the Order kitchen. I wouldn’t want her having problems with the grill. You know I’m the grill master.”

  Devyn grinned as the three departed. She turned, quietly regarding Rider with tears in her eyes. Dagan squeezed her hand, unsure what to say. Her emotions swirled from the darkness of terror for Rider to relief. They enveloped him with such swiftness he could barely breathe.

  “I owe you so much. You got him out.” Tears tracked down her cheeks. She touched Rider’s bloodied face, running her fingers parallel to a somewhat healed cut jaggedly slicing from beneath his eye, across his cheek, and down his throat just below his chin. “God, I hate Conver for this. I hate him for the evil, cold heart that lets him do something like this to such a beautiful soul.”

  “He’ll heal. We’ll make sure of it,” Dagan whispered. “Kaeden already has surgeons on standby. The SEO doesn’t have the deep pockets ARES does, but we have a hell of a lot of volunteers willing to help when they can.”

  She nodded, her gaze still memorizing each wound, each viscous slice along his torso. Dagan’s heart twisted in a screwed-up concoction of jealousy and concern. He hated seeing her this destroyed, this carved up.

  She deserved beauty that rivaled hers, hearts and flowers and white picket fences. Laughter, hugs, and playful banter about stupid shit. A part of him died when he realized he could never give her good, not when he breathed to purge evil from the world.

  Darkness settled in him, a pervasive wrenching of all he wanted and could never have. Somehow he’d have to set aside what he desired and do right by her. She’d been through enough. But, for tonight, for now, he’d hang onto the soft smile she bravely displayed when Rider woke up with a moan.

  Chapter Eight

  Devyn paused in the long, brown-and-beige corridor and sighed. It was official. She was lost. Who would’ve known the SEO compound was this massive? She’d thought the team was six primary Shadow operatives with Ace running things at base. How much space did seven men need?

  She had been so, so wrong.

 
The “team” was huge. The infrastructure included more than twenty Shadow Elite operatives, well over forty trainees, and about thirty level five team members. Apparently the six people who, including Dagan, she’d thought were a team actually commanded their own teams with Kaeden as the general of sorts. Of course, they didn’t use titles of any kind. Everyone just knew who was in charge of whom. They’d worked together on this op because it involved her and the Indigo Order.

  They’d put Rider in a state-of-the-art medical facility and put him into a medically induced coma to prevent any additional issues arising because of his pain. Most of the residual comfort Rider had gained from Patch’s work had faded by the time they arrived at the compound, so the safety precautions made her feel much better about bringing him here. They had resources Indigo Order didn’t.

  All empaths handled their own pain differently, and Rider was an unknown. Given his high level capability, he was deemed too dangerous to be conscious until he was lucid and out of the worst of the healing. Keeping him unconscious prevented him from projecting his suffering onto others, a natural defensive mechanism most people with Rider’s abilities possessed.

  A team of support staff had taken over his care, assuring her and Dare every step of the way that Rider was in good hands. Dare had been AWOL for a couple of hours as the team debriefed. Diaz and his crew—along with Patch and his people—had been invited to hang in the SEO barracks for a few days until they were sure there wasn’t any blowback from the op.

  The fact that Kaeden and Dagan had thought of that warmed her. She’d been led to her room a couple of hours ago to rest and change. Resting wasn’t an option. Adrenaline still surged within her, mixing with a constant, heightened state of arounsal thanks to the heated gazes she’d shared with Dagan before his team had gone behind closed doors.

  And now, here she was, lost. Even though the compound was huge, nothing about it reminded her of the ARES facilities. She’d been in two of the six known locations. They’d all been the same—stark, white walls, thousands of cameras monitoring every breath, and room after cloned room with barred windows and secured entrances. Glorified jail cells.

  Pictures adorned the SEO walls, the dark brown frames complementing the wall color perfectly. She studied the glimpses of their past few years lined along the corridor with pride. They’d gone through hell and come up not only fighting but thriving.

  “There you are.” Dagan ambled toward her with a casual gait that belied the lust in his eyes. A slight smile accentuated his handsome face and kicked her pulse into a knowing flutter.

  The man was sex personified. A fresh pair of jeans hugged his powerful thighs, showcasing his lean hips. Damp patches darkened his burgundy t-shirt. His hair tumbled in an unruly mass her fingers inched to comb.

  “You okay?” he asked as he stopped before her.

  “I got lost,” she admitted.

  “You, a technopath, got lost? You couldn’t pull up a map from our system?”

  “I wouldn’t ever intrude,” she said. “Thanks for coming to my rescue. I’ll have to come up with some way to express my gratitude.”

  Oh, my God. Had she just flirted with him that brazenly? Heat rose in her cheeks when he chuckled softly and drew her forward until her body was flush against the heat of his. This had become her favorite place to be—in his arms, pressed against him.

  “I have a couple of suggestions, if you’d like some ideas,” he whispered. Feathering kisses along her neck, he ran his hands up her back. “I’m almost hesitant to state the obvious, but I think we’re finally alone and don’t have an op to prepare for or a world to save.”

  She sighed and explored his arms, his chest. Her nipples hardened as she imagined stripping him bare and licking a path along every gloriously muscular inch of him.

  “Any chance we’re in the right corridor for my room?”

  “Afraid not, but mine is nearby. Come on.” He held his hand out.

  She took his hand and followed until they were at the end where the corridor turned to the left. He placed his thumb on the sensor and pushed the door open when it chimed.

  The room was all man. Masculine hues of blue offset with light gray covered a king-sized bed. His hands went around her waist, and he settled in behind her as she stared at the massive focal point of the room. This was really happening.

  Nervousness jangled the anticipation pumping in her veins. He’d probably forgotten the names of more lovers than she’d ever come close to having. She’d been on the proverbial romance shelf gathering cobwebs for so long, she’d probably forgotten what went where.

  His hand settled at her chin and lifted gently until their gazes collided. She tried not to look away, tried to come across as confident even though she was pretty sure he could hear the dragons flying in her belly. Shifting from one foot to the other like a drunken dancer, she smiled up at him and ran her hands along his chest.

  He was breathtaking. Everything about him made it hard for her to breathe, to think about anything beyond baring his gorgeous flesh and letting him sweep her away to wherever. She didn’t give a damn where as long as she was with him.

  “Hey, you with me?” His thumb ran along her lips. “We’ll go as slow as you want.”

  Slow was torture when the end result was her collapsing into him in mutual release. Fuck it. She grabbed his head and pulled him forward until the minty brush of his lips moved along hers. Her fingers kneaded his biceps, urging him to take control because she knew pleasure threatened to consume her. He groaned, and suddenly she was up in his arms.

  “I’ve thought about having you here most of the day,” he confessed as he settled her on his bed. His scent enveloped her, a heady, spicy, woodsy musk that was now permanently embedded in her brain as Dagan.

  She stretched her arms above her head and moaned deep in her throat when he pulled his t-shirt above his head and discarded it. He moved to straddle her, but she shook her head and crawled from beneath him.

  “I want to strip you bare and lick every inch of you,” she whispered. “That’s what I’ve been imagining all day.” The confession tumbled from her easily, even under the weight of his intense gaze.

  He lay on the bed with a confident grin that purged the last of her nervousness. Throwing her right leg over him, she leaned down until both her hands were on the bed above his shoulders. The kiss was hesitant. A shiver of awareness flickered through her as she looked down at him, meeting his confident gaze head-on. She’d never done this, kiss a man with eyes open, baring all of her soul.

  Leaning back, she severed the searing contact and scored her nails along his shoulders.

  “The first time I heard your voice, my knees went weak. I’d never heard a voice that could undo me so easily, consume my thoughts so easily.”

  He chuckled. “I’d say the same thing, babe, but you had that whole Darth Vader thing going, and I’m more of a Princess Leia fan.”

  “Smartass. Next you’ll be requesting I wear a slave costume so you can play out your wicked geek fantasies with me.” Moisture pooled between her legs at the thought.

  A smug grin spread across his face. Her nipples hardened as his hands explored beneath her shirt to cup her breasts.

  “Next time.”

  There’d be a next time. She’d never had this sort of playful, confident connection with someone. Her vast experiences amounted to two times—impulsive actions that lasted all of five minutes combined.

  She forced her gaze downward to the golden expanse of skin she’d fantasized about that morning. The heated skin flexed beneath her tongue when she moved along his pecs, pausing to pay homage to his nipple with light suckles to each. She squeezed his biceps when she sensed him reaching for her.

  She needed this control, one brief moment where he was hers to savor before the pleasure spiraling through her swept her into bliss. A husky chuckle riddled her resolve for a moment, long enough for him to snatch the bottom of her shirt and tug it off. Patience wasn’t a strong suit for eith
er of them.

  Need harried the pace. His skin glistened beneath her fingers. She continued her southward trajectory despite his groans. Strong fingers fisted her hair as she worked to unclasp his belt.

  “Not yet,” he growled.

  Hell, no. This was her moment.

  She hissed her rebuttal and undid his pants before he could argue. "I want your taste on my tongue, in my throat.”

  He groaned and lifted his hips long enough for her to shimmy the cargo pants past his knees. Wrapping her hand around the hardened length of his shaft, she purred her contentment. She squeezed and waited until he watched her through half-hooded eyes. Her hands trembled slightly as she removed her pants.

  Returning to the straddling position, she took his hands into hers and guided them along her body. The callused ridges of his fingers scraped along her hardened nipples. Emitting a soft gasp, she whimpered when he pinched them both until she ground against him.

  He growled and hauled her upward and forward until his mouth was on her, sucking her one of her over-sensitized buds into the fiery depths of his mouth.

  “Dagan.” His name tumbled from her lips, a desperate plea to sate the need building in her. His fingers delved between her legs, beyond the slip of fabric saturated with her arousal.

  “Fuck, I can smell your arousal. I want to taste you on my tongue, too, babe.”

  “I called dibs first,” she whispered.

  He chuckled. “I’ve got a better idea.”

  Before she could make sense of his words, he spun her around and ripped the panty from her. Holy shit. Her heart thundered anticipation through her. Hot breath fanned her inner thigh, scant inches below the epicenter of her need. How did he expect her to function when his mouth was sweeping along her thigh, licking in a leisurely pace.

  She groaned and tried to pull away, but his hands squeezed her thighs until she stilled.

  “Good girl,” he whispered against her heated sex. She gasped when he licked her pussy, stopping to draw lazy circles around her clit. The torturous sensations burst along her skin, dragging labored, panting breaths from her lungs.