by Nalini Singh
Except the Tk didn't come in. He used his ability to lift the bed, clearly intending to smash it against the wall. Rabbit lay motionless on the bedspread. Horrified, Ivy ran deliberately into the Tk's line of sight, and even as he smashed the gun out of her hand, she reached instinctively for the kernel of fear she could sense in him and made it bigger. And bigger. And bigger.
He collapsed into a whimpering pile just as Vasic finished off the other assailant.
Walking over to pinch a nerve in the man's neck, Vasic sent him into unconsciousness. "Rabbit?"
The tears falling now that the danger was past, she ran back to the bed where Rabbit lay so quiet and still. "He's hurt really bad." She had to focus on their pet, couldn't think about the fact she'd come so close to losing Vasic. It made her remember the ticking clock she'd almost managed to forget, the knowledge a vise around her chest, compressing her lungs until she could barely breathe.
"He was kicked." Taking the dog into his arms and ignoring his own wounds, he teleported out, returning mere seconds later without Rabbit. "He's with an M-Psy trained in veterinary sciences."
Nodding jerkily, she went into his arms, his embrace careful steel. "Breathe, Ivy."
It took effort, but she obeyed the order. Vasic didn't need to worry about her right now. "Who are they?" she asked at last. "Was it an anti-empath group?"
"No. These men came for me." He loosened his embrace only to cup her face and take her mouth in a kiss raw and possessive, before stepping back. "I need to transport them."
Gaining strength from the sheer, physical life of him, his skin gleaming with sweat and his scent hotly masculine, she said, "Don't forget the syringe." She'd made a note of where it had dropped, now pointed it out. "We need to know what was in it."
Vasic picked it up. "This won't take long."
She changed while he removed the three strangers from the apartment. "You need a medic," she said when he returned, the vise around her lungs having tightened again in the short time he'd been gone from her sight.
Delaying only long enough to pull on a T-shirt and jacket, Vasic said, "Rabbit first," and teleported them to the veterinarian who was working on their pet. Watching the vet through the window of the sterilized operating suite, she bit down on her trembling lower lip. "Did Rabbit try to help you?"
"He did help me." Vasic wrapped his arms around her from behind. "He bit one of the attackers just before the man would've landed a disabling blow."
"That's Rabbit." Pride unfurled in her, but that wasn't the emotion that held her hostage. No, it was bone-numbing fear, because it wasn't only Rabbit she'd almost lost. Turning, she pushed Vasic away and made him take off his jacket and T-shirt so she could examine his injuries.
Cuts and bruises marred his upper body, his beautiful face bleeding and his breath coming in a way that told her he had broken ribs. Violent protectiveness eclipsed the fear. "Medic. Now."
"You need to be with Rabbit," he said, as if that ended the discussion.
It didn't. "Do you think I'm a mess at the moment?" she said. "What do you think will happen to me if one of those broken ribs goes through your lung?" Fingers trembling, she touched them to his chest. "Please, let's go." Rabbit wouldn't hold it against her, and she'd make sure to be here when their pet woke.
Vasic closed his hand over her own, his eyes going to the window into the operating suite. "We shouldn't leave him alone."
A shaky smile curved over her lips as she realized Vasic wasn't only worried about her, but about Rabbit. Their stubborn dog had wormed his way into the heart of this tough, dangerous Arrow. "Then," she said, "why don't you 'port a medic here?"
Vasic disappeared on the next breath, to return with an M-Psy who held what looked like a serious medical kit. Of course, he first made the slender brunette check Ivy. She acquiesced rather than further delay his treatment, and the M-Psy was able to deal with her bruised side in minutes.
"Now, you," Ivy ordered, completely out of patience.
Sitting down in an empty examination room meant for animals, he allowed the M-Psy to knit his broken ribs back together, the work painstaking. Ivy went between the room and the observation window of the operating suite, keeping Vasic updated on Rabbit's progress.
It was a half hour into it that she realized the veterinarian was doing much the same thing to Rabbit that the M-Psy was doing to Vasic. Her Arrow had brought their dog to a top veterinary surgeon, someone who probably worked on Thoroughbred horses and other animals worth millions.
If she hadn't already been utterly, madly, absolutely in love with Vasic, she would've fallen right then and there. Fighting the urge to throw herself into his arms, she watched the M-Psy shape her hands over his ribs as she worked. The woman, who had the ability to see internal injuries without technological help, was wearing complex medical "gloves" that directed energy into Vasic, stimulating his cells into repair mode.
Ivy folded her arms over her chest. You couldn't find a male medic?
Vasic's eyes warmed, and it was a punch to the solar plexus, that hint of a smile. Is she female? I didn't notice.
Good, she said, utterly undone by him. Continue not to notice.
As it was, Rabbit was out of surgery first.
"He's going to be a little slow for a few days." The vet gave her a disposable datapad with instructions on how often Rabbit should be given pain medication as well as the food he should eat. "However, I've made sure there'll be no long-term repercussions."
"Thank you," Ivy said, her hand on Rabbit's warm body as her and Vasic's pet rested in a drug-induced sleep.
Acknowledging her thanks with a nod, the vet looked over at where Vasic was being treated. "I did owe him a favor, but I never expected him to redeem it to save the life of a dog."
Ivy smiled at Vasic from across the room but kept her silence. In fact, they didn't speak again until the medic working on him pronounced him fit for duty, and they returned to the apartment with Rabbit. An apartment that was smashed up and bloody in the living area. Ignoring that, Vasic carried Rabbit to his sleeping basket and placed him on the pillow shaped to their pet's body.
"He'll be all right?" Vasic asked when she hunkered down beside him to stroke Rabbit.
Ivy spun into his arms in response.
Almost unbalancing in his crouched position, Vasic locked his arms around her. "Ivy?"
"You were so hurt," she whispered.
Vasic nuzzled her temple. "I wasn't critically injured." He'd survived far worse.
Pushing back as suddenly as she'd come into his arms, Ivy said, "I need to see you're okay. Take off your clothes." She pushed at the sides of his jacket. "Off."
Not arguing, he got to his feet with her and shrugged off the jacket, then peeled off his T-shirt while kicking off the boots he'd slammed his feet into at the first sign of intruders. A bare chest was one thing--bare feet could be a serious liability against booted opponents.
Ivy dragged him in front of the blinds. Cracking the slats enough to let in a little more sunlight without exposing the two of them, she ran her hands over every inch of his chest with careful delicacy. To his body, each touch was a petting caress--but he could tell from her expression that she was only concerned about lingering injuries.
When she went around to check his back, he stayed in place.
"Were your legs hurt?"
"A few bruises from kicks, nothing more." He hadn't bothered to have the M-Psy treat those, since they weren't disabling and would disappear on their own soon enough.
"I need to see." Ivy dropped her hand to the top button of his jeans.
Closing his fingers over her own, he shook his head. "They're only bruises." He had endless self-control . . . except when it came to Ivy. Already, his body was reacting, his penis erect despite the fact he knew she hadn't meant her touch to be arousing.
Ivy's lashes lowered to throw soft shadows against her skin, a blush heating her cheeks . . . before she shook off his hands. "I need to see," she whispered again, and t
his time, her tone was husky.
He held as still as he could as she undid the button, but his stomach flexed at the featherlight brush of her knuckles, over two decades of training alone allowing him to stand there without taking her to the carpet. What he couldn't do, however, was keep from touching her. Raising one hand, he threaded his fingers through the soft black of her curls, took hold.
Her breath caught, her lips parting.
And Vasic suddenly understood why he so often saw changelings nipping at the lips of their mates when they kissed, playful smiles on their mouths. Leaning forward, he did the same. Ivy's gasp was quiet, her fingers tucked into his waistband . . . and her body straining up toward him when he began to move away.
Vasic had woken three hours before the attack this morning, but rather than leave Ivy, he'd stayed in bed and spent the time reviewing the material Judd had sent him. Now he realized the other man had been right; he didn't really need it. All he had to do was listen--to what Ivy said and, especially, to what she didn't.
Closing the small distance between them, he bit down on her plump lower lip again, the pressure gentle but firm. Then he tugged at her flesh to test if she enjoyed the sensation, because he did. He particularly enjoyed it when she rolled up on her toes, her knuckles pressing into his abdomen.
Releasing her lip with slow deliberation, he found his other hand had ended up at her hip, atop her sweater. She'd discarded her coat as soon as they'd entered the apartment, and so there was no impediment to his exploration. Holding the clear copper of her eyes, he slid his hand below the fine weave of the sweater to touch warm, supple skin.
Ivy inhaled sharply, her pulse a drumbeat against the curve of her neck. Fascinated once again by the small movement that told him so much and made his own pulse race to match, he bent his head to press his mouth to it. He sucked, even grazed with his teeth. One of Ivy's hands rose from his waistband to curve over his nape, holding him to her throat as she made a small, incoherent sound.
Her response ignited unadulterated possessiveness in him, making him want to devour and to cherish in equal measures. He hadn't understood what it meant to cherish before Ivy. Now he knew it was about giving her what she needed, showing her what she was to him: Everything.
"Vasic." Her short nails dug a little into his neck, the sensation adding to the others to go straight to his groin.
"Hmm." He kissed her neck again, sucking harder at the soft skin, oddly pleased by the resulting red mark.
Chest rising and falling in a rapid rhythm, her breaths hot pants that made something slumberous and primal in him stretch awake, she rubbed her face against the side of his. "I can feel your hunger." It was an intimate whisper, his empathic lover attuned to his body and his senses. "What do you need?"
Driven by the craving to claim her skin to skin, he lifted his head and said, "I want you spread out beneath me, and then I want to feast on every inch of you."
Ivy shivered. "Naked?"
The strange painful-beautiful emotion he'd finally recognized as tenderness twisted inside him. "I can wait."
Eyes luminous, she reached for the bottom of her sweater. "Remember that night I stripped for you?"
"I'll never forget it." It was an erotic film he played in his head whenever things became too dark, too hard. Soft curves and lush skin, a shy, coaxing smile, she made him remember there were better things in the world.
Today, her smile held sinful play. "I wanted your hands all over me." Then she drew the fabric of the sweater over her abdomen in preparation for tugging it off. "You can feast on me any time you please."
His mind hazed, his hands fisting at his sides. "Wait. Stop."
Chapter 50
IVY FROZE WITH the sweater bunched below her breasts. "No?"
"I have to fill the bathtub with water."
Blinking, she went to part her lips as if to ask a question, but he couldn't wait. He strode to the bathroom and turned on the cold faucet at full blast.
Ivy appeared in the doorway a few seconds later, frown lines marring her forehead. She snapped her fingers the next instant. "It's to help you control your 'porting in some way."
He loved her mind as much as every other part of her. "Yes." Not sure he'd remember to turn off the faucet once she bared herself, he waited with bone-grinding patience for the tub to fill. And as he did, he suddenly thought of the one thing they'd never discussed. "Ivy, if we share biological--"
"I took care of it," she said, cheeks red. "While we were still back at the compound."
The feeling deep inside him, he identified it as a smile of unalloyed delight. "Way back then?"
"Oh shush." Laughing admonishment. "I asked Sascha's advice, and she arranged for the DarkRiver healer to drop by since the healer also has medical training, plus she's made it a point to learn about Psy physiology, so . . . "
Vasic remembered the healer coming in; at the time, he'd thought she was simply being welcoming to the Es. "She brought baked goods."
"Yes." A sweet smile that cut him off at the knees. "I knew I was thinking much too far ahead, but . . . I was hopeful."
"Ivy." Clenching his fists, he stared at the wall. "I won't last if you look at me that way."
Soft, sensual laughter. "The bath's about to overflow."
Finally.
Walking Ivy backward into the bedroom, he stopped by the bed. "We may travel," he told her, "but I've programmed a repeating loop in my head that should only take us to the desert and back." He'd done it yesterday, before the outbreak. "No snow."
"I'd go anywhere with you."
Tracing her smile with a fingertip, he kissed her, his hand in her hair. I really like kissing you, Ivy. The intimacy, the wet, the way her breath became shorter and shorter the longer he did it. I think I'm developing preferences when it comes to tactile contact.
So am I. She splayed her hands on his chest, nails lightly scratching as she ran them down and over the ridges of his abdomen to his navel. Where she began to trace the fine line of hair that led into the partly open fly of his jeans. The touch made him clench his abdominal muscles, break the kiss to look down at the slender gold of her hand against him, air hot on his skin as she inhaled and exhaled in the same jagged rhythm.
As if aware of how the visual affected him, she stroked up with a finger . . . back down. When she reached for the zipper tab, however, he braceleted her wrist with one hand and pulled her away. "After." The idea of her fingers wrapped around his penis made his spine lock, his thighs taut.
Kissing her again, he ran his thumb over the pulse in her wrist before releasing her hand. Then he reached for the bottom of her sweater. She raised her arms, and the fine blue wool was on the floor seconds later. Her bra was a delicate creation of pale yellow lace. Fascinated by the way it cupped the creamy mounds of her breasts while appearing so fragile, he traced the scalloped edges, dipped his finger underneath just a fraction.
One of her hands rose to grip his wrist, but it wasn't a hold that asked him to stop.
"From the township by the settlement?" he asked, and continued to touch.
Fingers tightening on his wrist, she nodded. "The humans didn't see anything wrong with selling it to a Psy." Her voice was husky on her next question. "Do you like it?"
"Yes." He decided he'd buy her more. "It appears I have a distinct preference for visual stimulus." Kissing her collarbone, he said, "I still intend to watch you touch your own body in front of me, but not today. Today I want to be the one doing the touching."
Ivy shivered again, then pressed an unexpected, wet kiss to his chest before reaching back to unhook the bra. Cupping his hand over the ball of her shoulder, he turned her slowly. Her hands dropped as she granted his silent request. First, he swept her hair to one side to bare her nape, the exposed skin making him want to taste. So he did.
Ivy uttered a hot, sweet sound in response that wrapped around his erection and squeezed . . . and they ended up in the desert.
"Sorry," he said, the two of them alrea
dy back in the apartment.
Ivy leaned her back against his chest, and turning her head, rose on tiptoe. He bent toward her automatically, used to the height difference, was rewarded by her lips brushing the side of his jaw. "As long as you don't stop touching me"--another kiss--"you can take me to the desert and back a thousand times."
The kisses threatened to distract him, entice him to stay in this position, but he wanted her naked. Shifting back, he reached for the hooks on her bra and undid them after figuring out how they were linked. Ivy curved her shoulders inward as soon as he was done and slid off the straps one at a time, the movement wholly feminine.
He watched the lace drop to the carpet, realized he couldn't look at her front if he wanted to finish this. "Stay." Gripping her hips until he was sure she understood, he stepped away to look at the graceful curve of her back, but he couldn't look and not touch. He ran one hand down the expanse of skin he intended to kiss inch by inch.
"I was overambitious," he said when she arched toward him. "I don't think I'll be able to explore all of you before my control snaps."
"We can do it again." A shy, sensual glance back at him before she faced forward once more. "As many times as we like."
Vasic's fingers stilled on her skin as he realized the import of her words. Before Ivy, he'd never been given anything he wanted without fighting for it. Most times it had been a stolen moment of peace in a calm place. All with a time limit. This didn't have one.
His eye fell on the gauntlet.
Forcing his mind away from that darkness and to the pleasure of this instant when he was with a woman who denied him nothing, he ran both hands down her sides and around to her front to flick open the button of her jeans. "Tug down the zipper," he murmured against her ear, nibbling at the curve of it simply because he wanted to.
Ivy moaned, her body soft and warm in the curve of his as she did as he asked. Then, not waiting for his request, she pushed the jeans down her thighs and to the floor. Releasing her so she could tug off the material, he wrapped one arm around her waist again as soon as she finished the task, the fingers of his other hand exploring the tiny bows of yellow ribbon at the sides of her lace panties. There'd been one on her bra, too, he remembered, in the center.