“What tunnel?” Sam exploded. “Are you saying there’s an underground exit from the research center?”
“I don’t know, but it’s your job to find out fast.”
“I’m not letting you off the hook that easy, Nette. You didn’t just decide to go out there alone.”
Annette refused to look at Sam.
Aragon reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could put the disinfectant-soaked gauze to his back. His dark eyes met hers again with that deep probing look that seemed to reach all the way to her center. “She is using untruths again,” he said. “They are necessary for her at this time, but I will not allow it for much longer.”
Annette’s mouth dropped open.
Nick laughed and shook his head. “Where is the freaking Candid Camera? You’re telling me this guy can read a chick’s mind?”
“I don’t know, but he seems to have Annette’s number.” Sam snorted.
“No. I have your number,” Aragon told Sam.
Sam gaped.
“But not the mortal woman’s,” Aragon continued, looking up at her. “Do you have a number?”
Annette smiled, trying not to laugh at the look on Sam’s face. “He means cell phone number, Sam.”
Sam turned to Nick. “We’ve got a tunnel to find, and we’ll need to have the helicopter ready at dawn. Those trucks are going to have to be somewhere in the vicinity of that building, and we’re going to find them.”
Annette covered Aragon’s bare ass with a sheet, thinking he had more than her number. She couldn’t even focus with his body stretched out before her. What did he mean, untruths were necessary for her? And exactly how would he not allow them?
The man might have the hottest buns south of the Mason-Dixon line, but he had an ego bigger than the whole faction of southern males combined. Somehow, that fact was more threatening to her than Pathos and his goon.
Pathos paced over the shattered glass, seething on one hand and thoroughly intrigued on the other, which made a very interesting state for a being who’d grown practically immune to all pleasures after a millennium of overindulgence. He was sure ignorance played a large part in the woman’s actions tonight, but her torch-blowing bravado had been impressive. In a thousand years, no human had ever damaged a hair on his head. Now he fisted the knotted, singed length of it in his hand, smelling its acrid stench. The heat of his rage shocked him. It had been centuries since he’d felt anything but icy determination and cold calculation.
“Why aren’t we annihilating the bitch and her dog?” Nyros rasped. The demon had suffered major damage. Heat was a killer for the damned and their icy realm. That was why most of Heldon’s creatures stuck to the night, rather than suffer the discomfort of the day. Fire upon Nyros’s kind was like instant leprosy, causing the exposed areas to turn gray and slough off. It was amusing that Heldon kept perpetuating the myth that hell was hot, in a pathetic attempt to keep humans from discovering the weaknesses of the damned.
Pathos was luckier; shape-shifters were less susceptible to fire.
“First we find Cinatas. And I never act uninformed, Nyros, you know that. I want the details about her within an hour. We also need to discover who called and lured her here.”
He followed her scent from the restroom to the Infectious Disease Department, to the desk and the computer she used. “She was in here. So get me names of people in this department.” He picked up the lab coat. “Put Dr. Steven Bryers at the top of the list.”
The more Pathos focused on her fragrance, the heavier his loins grew with the need of a little sport. “The bitch has a name, a reason for being here, and she’s involved with Aragon. Find out why.”
Anticipation pulsed through him. “You know, Nyros? If what Aragon claimed is true, the Blood Hunter is thwarting Logos to eliminate me. This will cause an uproar among the Guardians. It is perfect. All these years they’ve acted as if everything I’ve accomplished in organizing the Vladarians was of little importance. Now I know differently. For Aragon to accept an eternity of wandering, I must be seen as a force to be reckoned with, one apart from Heldon. This is excellent news.”
Heady news. Stimulating news. His mind turned back to the woman and her fiery determination. He’d enjoyed the feel of her hot blood racing beneath his fingertips and the softness of her throat. It had been a while since he’d had a human slave to his desires, and seducing a woman with that much fire would be such a pleasure. He never used force. Every woman was willing once he found her Achilles heel and stroked until his commands became her every wish. A vision of her, splayed out before him like a sacrifice upon an altar, sent a rush of excitement through him. Oh, the things he could do to prime her for him.
Releasing his ruined hair, he brought the hand he’d clawed her with to his nose and inhaled the teasing fragrance of her blood. Then he slid his fingertips over the tip of his tongue to taste her. The decadent sweetness hardened more than his determination. He’d have to cut his silver mane off, and she would pay the price for it.
A sudden sucking sound accompanied by wavering distortion in the air, not unlike a black mirage seen upon a hot horizon, had Pathos whirling around, braced for an attack. He relaxed as Nyros’s minion crossed the spirit barrier and fell into a submissive bow.
“We have word that Ashoden ben Shashur and an unnamed guest are housed among the black demons.”
“Cinatas,” Pathos replied grimly. Hell was about to get uglier—and he was the man to make it happen.
Aragon had bent the metal frame on the stretcher and probably permanently dented her nerves of surgical steel. She’d given him enough pain medication to knock out a man his size completely, but it had barely affected him. Worse yet, she didn’t dare give him more without knowing his physiology.
He’d claimed she wasn’t hurting him and had lain stoically beneath her knife as she’d retrieved the bullet from his scapula, extracted the glass embedded in his back, and sutured all the wounds. It wasn’t until he’d left the stretcher and she was cleaning up that she’d found the evidence of how great his control had been.
Even now, as she drove up her mountain driveway through the patchy fog, he gave no indication of his pain. The bumby ride had sent her minor scrape to a just-shoot-me level of irritation, and he was in worse shape. At least, she thought he was. How much more quickly would he heal now that the bullet and the glass had been removed?
She’d had to fight World War III with Sam in order to bring Aragon home with her, a needless battle because given Aragon’s abilities, he’d go where he damn well wanted, and right now that was with her, a scary thought.
She’d just have to take every precaution to not get caught in her towel again. At least he was dressed now. Sam had shoved a clean black T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from a gym bag at Aragon and told him to wear them or else.
“Stuck in the Middle with You” twanged on the radio as she pulled her car to a stop in front of her cabin. “Demons to the left of me! Werewolves to the right!” she thought. “Here I am, stuck in the middle with you.” Even so, there had been a distinct difference between Aragon and Pathos. Aragon had been almost noble in his werewolf presence, while Pathos had been diseased and corrupted.
She sucked in air, forcing a bravado she didn’t feel, and reached for her backpack, having to tug at it because she’d forgotten how heavy it was. Aragon slid his hand over hers and lifted the pack for her. His warmth and strength raced along her nerves, making her almost afraid to turn her head toward him. Almost. She shifted enough so that her gaze met his, and a slight smile curved his mouth.
She’d been trying not to think about the rest of the night. At her place…alone with him. Dawn was hours away yet, and Aragon had melted her into a puddle within minutes of meeting her. Now they had hours of history, and the heat seemed to be rising. Maybe the charismatic aura of spirit beings came equipped with little erotic rays that bombarded a mere human.
“Let’s go inside, and then we’ll—”
“Talk,�
�� he said for her, shaking his head and touching her cheek with the tip of his finger. “You must always lead as if you fear where others may go.” Then he sighed, heavily. “That may be a good thing, for I lead only to destruction.”
He turned to stare out the windshield before she could read his expression, but she knew the guilt and despair would be etched upon his rough features just as heavily as she sensed the weight burdening his broad shoulders. His tone had struck a chord inside her that vibrated with understanding, and once they were inside and comfortable, she’d seek the reason behind them.
She swung around to exit the car and screamed at the face staring in her window.
Chapter Seven
B EFORE SHE COULD explain that her neighbor was peeking into the car, Aragon pulled her his way, crushing her backpack into her stomach as he rammed his fist toward the window.
“Wait!” she yelled, but he hit the glass anyway, causing Rob Rankin to jump back with a cry. She grimaced, thankful Aragon hadn’t smashed her window. “It’s my neighbor.” She pulled back from Aragon’s protective hold, feeling as if her back was on fire. She needed to clean the wound and get some antiseptic cream on it ASAP.
“Sorry I’m so jumpy,” she told Aragon. “Rob must have gotten my messages wanting his wife to call me.” She opened her car door.
“Do you always have this problem?” Aragon asked.
“Jumpy?” She paused, frowning at him. “Not until tonight.”
“No. All of these men after you,” he replied, sounding oddly aggravated.
Men after her?
“It’s your fault,” she muttered, then exited the car, backpack in tow. The chill in the night air immediately snaked down her spine, making her shiver. Honestly, there had to be something about Aragon’s presence that was bringing on this man-karma.
Aragon shoved his way out of the mortal vehicle. Cars are nothing but death traps, he thought. They gave a being no freedom to move, run, or protect himself from attack. Just like the mortal woman. Being wrapped up in her gave him no freedom to run from the spell drawing him closer to her, and no protection from it either.
His fault? By Logos, what did she mean by that?
She needed an entire band of Blood Hunters to keep her safe. As he approached, he glared at the man she called her neighbor.
The moment Aragon stepped directly into the moon’s light, he could feel the effects of its primal pull upon him. His sense of smell heightened, and he could smell fear coming from the man—fear and an underlying desire for the mortal woman.
Aragon pulled her closer to his side and glared at the man. Something was wrong, but his senses could discern no immediate lurking threat.
The man shifted uneasily back.
Annette glanced at her watch. “Rob, it’s two in the morning.” Even if he’d received the messages that she wanted Celeste to call, Annette didn’t think it urgent enough for him to rush over in the middle of the night.
“Sorry,” said Rob. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. The electricity is out, and the power company says the storm damaged the main lines. They won’t have service back up until tomorrow, and Celeste frets. More when she’s under the weather. She hates the dark and worried about you being here all alone.”
At Rob’s “under the weather” comment, Annette’s heart sank, immediately thinking that she hadn’t tried hard enough to contact Celeste today.
“How is she sick?” Annette asked sharply. A headache could be a precursor to a stroke, or a leg or chest pain might indicate a blood clot. “Celeste was fine at the office the other day. I had better come check on her.” Hell, in the spirit of patient privacy, Annette thought, she shouldn’t even have mentioned that Celeste had been in the office. Though Celeste hadn’t asked Annette not to say anything to Rob, Annette always tried to maintain the strictest of confidences. Her only excuse was that it was late, and she’d been through hell, and she had a distracting werewolf at her side.
“No. No need to check on her. Just a cold,” Rob said quickly. “Uh, she came to see you?”
Now you’ve done it! Annette inwardly groaned and forced a bright smile onto her face. “Just a checkup,” she replied. “You know, they were encouraging all of the women at the health expo last week to go have a checkup. My office has been inundated.”
Rob nodded. “Yeah.”
“You sure I don’t need to come see her now?”
“I’m sure. Well, I better get back home,” Rob said.
“Don’t hesitate to call me if Celeste gets worse. And tell Celeste not to worry about me. I’m fine.”
“Nor is she alone,” Aragon said, surprising Annette at the fierceness of his tone. Aragon slid her backpack from her shoulder and set it on his. “Annette isn’t alone,” he repeated. She glanced at him, surprised. This was the first time she could recall that he’d used her name. His expression was too shadowed for her to tell anything from it; yet if she were to judge from the irritated tone of his voice, he almost sounded…jealous.
Ridiculous. She must be punch drunk.
Rob’s eyes widened. “Celeste and I didn’t know. It’s good that you’re moving on with your life after Stef di—”
His voice trailed off. Probably because something in her expression told him she hadn’t moved on with her life. She suddenly felt very cold and very tired, and very much wanting to find her sister. “Good night, Rob.”
“Yeah, good night.” Rob took a step back, then another, then cautiously turned his back and hurried home.
Aragon quickly decided that he didn’t like the man or the way he’d looked at the mortal woman…Annette. He wanted to toss the man on his ear into the nearest black hole.
The change in her had come fast, as if the man’s words had drained her. Aragon followed her to her door, noting that her hand shook as she slipped the key into the lock. He slid his hand over hers, wanting to give her his warmth, his strength. “You’re hurting. And not just on the outside, but on the inside even more. I can feel your pain. What is it?”
She paused a moment, staring at his hand, but didn’t pull from his touch. When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes that she tried to blink away. She stiffened as if afraid to show him her hurt, and that pulled him inside out. He unlocked the door and eased it open. Then he drew her inside and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, urging her stiffness closer until he could rest his chin on the top of her head. After shutting the door, closing them in darkness, he stood still for a long while, just absorbing her, listening to her hitching breath as she fought her emotions. Slowly her body softened, and she allowed herself to lean into him, to rest against him, just a little. When he sensed that she’d calmed enough to share, he eased back to see her face.
“You can trust me,” he whispered, using the same words she’d said to him. “Talk to me. Tell me what causes this anguish within you.” He couldn’t help her unless she opened her mind to him. He wanted her to share her hurt with him. He wanted her to want that between them.
“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to pull back. “I’m fine.”
“No,” he said, swinging her up into his arms. “These untruths do not belong between us. You’re hurting. I’ve seen your pain and felt it. You must tell me why.” He began walking forward, unsure of where he was going but looking for somewhere to be. The doorway to his right opened onto a large room, and he moved to the comfortable sitting place in the middle of it.
She didn’t resist as he sat and pulled her close, but sighed hard and settled her cheek against his chest, over his heart. Having her rest in his arms was unlike anything he’d ever known. It soothed his inner spirit as much as his hunger for her fed his passion. Everything about her affected him, as if she were a powerful moon and he a mere tide beneath her pull. And something inside him chafed at their circumstances, that he wouldn’t have time to know and explore all that she made him feel. She had a different future ahead of her.
“I don’t know where to start,” she whispered.
; “At the beginning,” he said softly. Leaning back, he settled in, catching the ends of her long hair between his fingers and rubbing his thumb over its heavy silkiness. After a time, she started to talk, and he listened.
Annette meant to tell Aragon only about her missing sister. Instead she told him everything—the death of her grandmother, her drive to become a doctor, her parents’ fatal accident, and her failure to be the sister she should have been even after that. “I can’t help but feel that if I’d called her back that night, or even if I hadn’t encouraged her into the medical field at all, she’d be alive and with me right now.”
She’d never allowed herself to just let go before. To relax. To trust. She wasn’t even exactly sure why. Maybe it was because she’d never met an Aragon before now.
“What did you learn from the man who called you tonight?”
She hadn’t told him about that. She raised her head to look at him, her heart skipping beats as she took in the rugged angle of his shadowed jaw and dimpled chin, the penetrating intensity of his dark eyes, and the seductive curve of his soft lips. She drew a deep breath, growing heady on the scent of him and the feel of his hard body enveloping hers.
His voice rumbled deep, and tense. “I heard what he said. I didn’t like it at the time, and now that I know more about you and your world, I want to…By Logos, it makes me very angry.”
She set her hand on his chest, against the pound of his heart. “I’m fine. I’m not sure I learned anything, though. I went early, copied some information from the computer system in the department he’d spoken of, and I don’t know if there’s anything about Stefanie yet. I can’t check it until the electricity is back on. And I don’t think the man who called ever showed up. Only Pathos.”
Aragon slid his hand to her lower back. “I know the scrape on your back must hurt. Do you trust me enough now to heal you?”
The Lure of the Wolf Page 10