“Turn off the lantern,” he said.
Her mouth gaped open. Slowly, almost drunkenly, she turned and twisted the light off. “You can't just stay here.”
He hooked an arm around her waist and tugged her against him, spooning around her. The heat and strength was decadent. “Looks like it's the only way to get you to rest.” His chin rubbed the top of her head, while his arm lay heavy across her waist. “Now go to sleep.”
Her body rioted as it started shutting down despite what she wanted. “Tell me something,” she murmured, her eyes closing. “Maybe about Ferris.”
Grey breathed in as if wanting her scent before he spoke. “Ferris was the best guy I ever met. Friends with everybody, but he became my brother. Was from the south, liked big-breasted blond women with a whole lot of wild hair. Had a thing for babes wearing blue eyeshadow, too.” Greyson chuckled. “Forced me to get out of my head and see the world a little bit.” He sighed softly. “Saved my life twice. Once in a bar fight and once in the field. I saved his a few times, too. That matters. You would've liked him.”
“I think you’re right,” she said drowsily. “Talk more. Maybe about your childhood. I like your voice.”
He kissed her head. “All right. I didn't know my father, and my mother was a teacher who died when I was five. No other family.”
Her eyes opened. “Greyson—”
“No. Just listen and fall asleep.” He seemed to get bossier each day. “I bounced from home to home, doing okay, learning to survive. Figuring out how to watch and focus and know everybody around me. When I was twelve, I was probably on my way to a great life of crime before I went to live with Miss Julian.”
“That's a pretty name,” Maureen murmured.
“She was a pretty lady, and I mean lady in the real sense. Pearls, dresses, church, sweet tea, and a good smack with the Bible once in a while,” Greyson said, his tone lowering with fondness.
“You loved her,” Maureen said.
Greyson kissed her head again. “She loved me first. Showed me that affection and kindness exist for no other reason than because it’s right. She was the first woman, the only woman, I ever trusted.”
“I wish I could've met her,” Maureen said.
“Me too.” He moved against her, his warmth providing security. “You're the second woman I've trusted. No matter what happens, I trust you with this baby, Maureen. You'll do the right thing, and you'll do your best for him or her. I know that.”
Tears pricked her eyes. When he let his guard down, he could be the sweetest man she'd ever met. It was hard to reconcile that with the killer he'd made himself become to survive the pandemic. Or perhaps he'd been like that before in the service—maybe it was just who he was. That might not be a bad thing considering that the world had essentially ended. “I wish I knew you better,” she said quietly, her eyelids closing again.
He tucked her closer. “All you need to know is that I'll protect you and this baby with everything I have. Whether you like it or not.”
There went the sweetness. Right out the door. She tried to turn over and argue with him, but he held her in place.
Easily.
Chapter Twenty-Six
As in any war, I've lost a couple of battles. But my resources are vast, and my determination absolute. It's time to bring the enemy to his knees.
—President Bret Atherton, Records
Bret pushed battle plans out of the way and stood, stretching his back without causing any pull on his broken arm. Broken, his ass. Shattered. It was only by sheer luck that he had three combat doctors who were still alive and working for him. He looked out the window of the mansion to the stunning lake outside.
The manor had belonged to a wealthy family for decades before they donated it and the surrounding land to the California park service. Weddings used to be performed there…not too long ago.
As if on cue, his fiancée clicked into the room, her high heels announcing her presence. “I brought you a sandwich,” she said. “Scouts found ingredients for fresh bread.” She set down a china plate.
The smell of freshly baked bread wafted up, and he nearly groaned. Lovely. “Thank you.”
She nodded, pressing her hands down her white pants. Her blond hair was pulled back in a braid, highlighting perfect cheekbones and stunning green eyes. If he squinted, she looked like Lynne Harmony. His Lynne. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked, her voice quiet like he required.
He retook his seat, not minding that she remained standing. Her name was Julie, and she'd been a graduate student at one of the UC schools when Scorpius had infected the world. “What were you studying back at school?” he asked, reaching for his sandwich. No doubt she'd already told him, but minor details didn't concern him.
She eyed the chair nearest her but didn't sit. “A bunch of subjects. I was going for a general type of degree.”
Yes. Definitely not as smart as Lynne, but she was better than a vacuum at blowjobs. “I see. Do you miss school?”
She shrugged, her low-cut blouse revealing a nice expanse of tit. “Not really. I do miss the parties, though.” Apparently gaining courage, she drew out the chair to sit, crossing her legs and letting one of the heels dangle. “How did your meeting down south go?” Her perfectly manicured nails tapped on the arm of the chair.
He chewed thoughtfully and then swallowed. “I don't know yet. I'd like to align with the Mercenaries if they'll follow orders, and I think Greyson Storm still has an allegiance with the military. Plus, I have several things he wants.”
Her eyes widened. “The Mercs just want women.” Then she drew in air. “I suppose we have a few we could give to him.” Her nose wrinkled. “A couple of ugly ones.”
He studied her. Evil and mean, he could live with. But just plain dumb? Devoid of depth? She was twenty-four, looked good, and was a great fuck. But that wasn't enough for him. For the country he was trying to rebuild.
The dreams about Lynne had returned. For a short time, he'd considered Vivienne Wellington or even Maureen Shadow as mates, but it always came back to Lynne.
The only time he'd been happy with a woman was when they dated before Scorpius. She'd worked for the CDC, and he'd been in Congress. She was brilliant, and he needed that type of challenge. Of course, she was now with Jax Mercury, and she had to pay for that. Bret might have to break her for such disloyalty and poor judgment, but then he could rebuild her. Into exactly what he wanted.
“Sweetheart?” Julie asked, her neck crooking. “I've lost you.”
She’d never had him. He smiled. “Why don't you find one of those non-ugly women and meet me in our bedroom in about thirty minutes?”
Her throat looked delicate as she swallowed. “But we're engaged now. Things are different. The First Lady doesn't have threesomes. You know that.”
He imagined that was true. But something told him this bimbo wasn't going to be the First Lady. “We're not married yet.” He liked that even though her pupils narrowed, she waited silently for him to finish his directions. “Make that two other non-ugly women. Be naked and already started when I get there.”
She stood and faltered just a second before turning and gliding gracefully to the door.
He smiled. “Nude except for those heels. Keep those on.”
She didn't turn around and was soon out of his sight, heading exactly where he'd told her to go.
Vice President Lake strode in wearing gym shorts and a tank top that emphasized cut muscles and the hideous burn marks down his neck, shoulder, and arm. His white-blond hair had been cut short again, and his eyes seemed an even lighter blue than before. He was one of the few people Bret knew who hadn't contracted Scorpius, and it was starting to look like he never would. “I'll have the Santa Barbara area mapped for you within the hour, and I have the men in place waiting for your order.”
Bret finished his sandwich, looking at his number two. “How's the ribcage?” The guy had bruised six ribs in the helicopter crash, which was nothing compared to the
burn damage. He'd be scarred for life.
“Fine,” Lake said, standing at full attention.
“What was that business with Storm?” Bret asked. “You were messing with him about Maureen Shadow.”
Lake didn't so much as shrug. “He has a hard-on for her. The way he covered her on the beach and then jumped to her defense when he rescued her. I was just getting under his skin.”
“You sounded as if you were interested in her.” It'd be nice for Lake to have some sort of weakness. Any weakness.
Approval tipped Lake's lips. “She's very pretty. But Greyson Storm will make a decision based on training and not a nice pair of tits.”
That was Bret's analysis as well. “I appealed to the soldier still inside him. There's a good chance he'll work for us against Vanguard. It's time to wipe that scum from the Earth.” His men were still regrouping after the last fight, but there was no doubt they'd damaged Vanguard's holdings. “Structurally, Mercury can't stay in LA for much longer, right?”
Lake shrugged. “Probably not. They're also facing health issues because of the lack of fresh food. Our scouts have confirmed that Mercury has reached an agreement with one of the small co-ops along the coast for poultry, dairy, and vegetables. So has Greyson Storm, by the way. Different farm in Goleta.”
“Recommendation?” Bret asked.
Lake eyed the empty plate. “We could take the co-ops by force or just make them disappear. A good attack, and we could move their resources to our farms.”
Bret nodded. “Let's plan that after the next mission. I want you to give the men the go order.”
Lake's eyebrows rose. “You really want to move forward with this campaign? It could cause more problems than it fixes.”
Sometimes it was necessary to just burn it down and start over. “I'm sure. Give the order right now. It's time to rattle Greyson Storm, and I know just where to hit him.”
“Then we should also destroy his organic farm after this attack. Take it out and show him there's nowhere else to turn.” Lake smiled, the sight so perfect it was a little scary. “In fact, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to take care of that myself.”
Bret eyed his man. “Of course.” He never denied Lake when he got creative. “Have fun with it.”
Lake's eyes gleamed. “Always.”
Before Bret was done with him, Greyson Storm would beg for an alliance.
* * *
Greyson jerked awake, instantly tuning in to his surroundings. It had to be early afternoon. Finally. They'd gotten a little sleep. Quiet day, relaxed body, comfortable bed, and…distressed woman against him.
She moved, a moan escaping her, the sound frightened. She jerked. “Help. Greyson. Please.”
He rolled her toward him, sliding a hand down her arm and back up. “Moe? Baby, wake up.” He gently tugged her shoulder.
She gasped herself awake, her eyes opening wide. Blinking several times, she slowly breathed out, her eyes focusing on him. “Greyson.”
The woman had been scared, and she'd called out for him, just like she had the other night when threatened with a knife. He couldn't believe it. The need to keep her safe, to keep her as his, was frightening in its intensity. He calmed himself, wanting to kiss her. Needing to touch her. “You were having a bad dream, and you needed my help.”
She nodded. Her eyes shimmered with a vulnerability that kicked him in the gut. “You saved me last time.” Her gaze dropped. “I need you to protect us.”
The noise in his head quieted. She was frightened, torn by loyalties, and was still risking him hurting or betraying her by asking for help. By revealing her fear. He'd fought the most dangerous soldiers in the world before, but nobody had ever made him feel this wild rush of hot possessiveness. He cupped her jaw. “I won't let anything hurt you. Either of you.”
She moved for him, her mouth settling on his.
His thumb stroked her jaw, and he kissed her back, taking over. She opened for him, showing more trust. Her sweet taste and warm lips almost pushed him over.
His heart thundered into a wild speed. He needed more. Needed all of her. He traced her face, memorizing her pretty features, even as he deepened the kiss and rolled her onto her back. “God, you're beautiful,” he said.
She laughed, the sound lighter. “You can't see me.”
“I can feel you,” he murmured, fighting the primitive urge to drive into her and claim what was his. Gentle. He could feel how much she needed gentleness right now, so he was going to give it to her, even if it killed him. “And you're burned into my brain. Every inch of you.”
Her breath caught.
He settled against her, holding his weight on his elbows to keep her safe. Then he licked and nibbled down her jaw and up behind her ear, smiling when her body trembled beneath him. Yeah. He remembered she liked that.
She yielded, moving her head to the side so he could get better access. He licked and tasted, nipped and kissed back to her mouth and down her neck to the delicate pulse point that was already going wild. For him.
Her knees slid up on either side of him, and his dick settled against pure heat. “You feel so good,” she murmured, caressing his rigid arms up to his shoulders and then down onto his chest.
He sucked gently on her neck and then wandered up to her mouth and kissed her deep, not holding anything back. She tasted so damn sweet. He could do this forever. But she rubbed against him, urging him on without words.
Yet he wasn't done playing. He tugged up her shirt up and pulled it over her head, humming in appreciation as her nipples rubbed against his chest. Levering down, he nibbled between her breasts, sucking a hard peak into his mouth.
She gasped and arched into him, her nails scraping up his neck to his head. The erotic bite only spurred him on.
He turned and laved the other nipple.
Reaching down, he snapped the side string of her panties in two and shoved them out of the way, finding her wet and hot. So fucking hot. He slipped a finger inside her and groaned against her chest. God, she was amazing.
He needed more. Needed her. Now.
Moving back up her, he grasped her thighs and spread her wide for him. Unhappy with the leverage, he shoved off the bedclothes and stood up, pulling her to the edge of the mattress.
“Greyson,” she moaned.
“Hold on. You'll like this.” He lifted her ankles to his shoulders, grasped her hips, and tugged her even more to the edge. His dick found her opening with no help necessary. Holding her tight, he pressed inside her, taking his time.
She moaned and pushed against him, trying to get him to hurry.
Wetness slicked along his cock, and he couldn't help the groan. Fire danced down his spine, burning him everywhere. The craving to take her hard and fast shot through him, and he fought himself, pressing all the way inside her and giving her body time to adjust.
Her heat sucked him even deeper. God. He never wanted to be free. Never.
He pulled out and then plowed in again, his fingers curling over her hips. Keeping her open. For him. She writhed against him, her nails digging into the sheet, incoherent murmuring spilling from her.
He increased his speed, going faster, powering into her. Her thighs trembled against him, and he went even faster, the sound of his flesh pounding against hers competing with their ragged breathing.
Her legs tensed. “Greyson,” she moaned, her body bowing. She shuddered, her interior muscles clamping hard on his dick, rippling around him, bringing him the closest he'd ever been to heaven. The wild spasms shook her, flinging him into an orgasm so intense he shut his eyes to just feel.
He rode out the waves for both of them, finally stopping, his dick jerking inside her.
She reached out for him, entwining her fingers with his. Claiming him.
He panted and slipped out of her. She rolled over, her body shuddering, her breath still coming quickly. Grabbing the bedclothes, he lay down and cuddled her close. Protecting her.
A knock on the door nearly made his brai
n blow up. Why did this keep happening? Enough was enough, and he might just gut the person on the other side of the door and be done with it. “Go the fuck away,” he snapped loudly.
“Sorry buddy, but we have a problem. A huge fucking problem,” Damon said grimly, his voice only slightly muffled. “Get out here. Now.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I have enough enemies. Mother Nature can fuck off. I apologize for the language.
—Greyson Storm, Letters to Miss Julian
“What is it?” Greyson snarled, shoving open the door and yanking his shirt over his head so he could glare at Damon. Already dressed in a T-shirt and spandex pants, Maureen followed closely, hopping on one foot and trying to slip on her second sock. “Hold it.” He turned and held her arm, giving her balance.
She smiled and finished with the sock. “Thanks.”
He pushed her curly hair away from her face. “Why don't you go back to sleep?”
“Damn it,” Damon sputtered. “I'm not messing around. You need to come with me and now.”
Grey looked down the empty hallway of the sleeping quarters. His body stiffened, and his mind focused. “Are we in danger? Do I need to lock her down?”
Maureen elbowed him in the ribs. “I'm not being locked anywhere.”
With her wild hair, mismatched socks, and yoga outfit, it was obvious she'd just gotten out of bed. Grey winced and ran his hands through his thick hair and then along his scruffy jaw. “Where's Shadow?”
Damon grabbed his arm and started walking. “Up on the roof by now, probably.”
Maureen stumbled. “We're walking up to the roof?”
Damon nodded vigorously, reaching a doorway at the end of the hall.
She planted a hand on Grey's arm. “Um, how many floors are in this building?”
Grey patted her hand. “I don't know. Thirty-ish?”
Storm Gathering: Scorpius Syndrome Book 4 Page 19