by Dee, Bonnie
“All right.” Brenna opened the door and slid out of the driver’s seat. Donovan followed, and began fueling the Jag before stretching. And as he did, he watched the sway of her ass in the morning light and wondered what in the hell he’d gotten himself into.
* * * *
Donovan Callahan and Brenna Kennedy will die. There’s no other way around it, even if I wanted there to be.
Goddamn him. He’s got the job I should have, has fucked the woman who should be mine. The bastard’s had all the luck, and now he has the Sorhineth. It should have been ours, to use as we please.
Why he couldn’t have been taken care of back in Boston? Now he’s on his way back to our home turf, and with a Warden at his back, no less.
Everything we’ve planned will be for naught if we can’t get the damned book.
The best we can hope for is that he and Kennedy don’t have enough time to unlock the secrets of the Sorhineth, and bring its awesome power to bear.
And if KOTE gets to them first, it’ll be almost as bad.
* * * *
It was late and very dark by the time they reached Oklahoma City. Brenna was behind the wheel again, and had been since St. Louis nine hours earlier. The woman was a driving machine. Donovan thought part of it was guilt over the fact they had to drive at all.
“So, where do you want to stay?” he asked. She looked as tired as he felt.
“Let’s just head to the city center. There’s sure to be a reasonably nice hotel there.”
They pulled off the freeway and into the entryway of the Renaissance Hotel. The valet hurried forward at the sight of the road-weary car. After all, a Jag is a Jag.
Bone tired, they dragged ass into the spacious lobby and stood at the registration desk.
“Sorry, sir, you’re out of luck.” The clerk was painfully professional in a heartland sort of way.
“Only one room with a king? What about the Westin across the street?” Donovan asked, not particularly caring what anyone thought at this point. He was sure he could get a rollaway, but damn it, he wanted a real bed tonight, even if it was only for a few hours.
“No can do. There’s a convention in town. Everything is booked downtown. The only reason we have this room is because someone cancelled.”
Brenna laid a hand on his arm. “Callahan, we’ll be fine. Let’s just take the room.”
“All right.” He turned back to the clerk. “I’ll give you my credit card, but I want to pay cash in the morning. Give us a wakeup call at seven.”
“That’s fine, sir.” The clerk didn’t bat an eyelash. He handed over the key, ignoring their conspicuous lack of luggage and the obvious contradiction versus the fact they’d wanted two rooms.
* * * *
The room was opulent, the bed the centerpiece. On the top floor, it was obviously the best in the hotel.
Donovan wavered for a moment. He needed to make it clear to Brenna that he didn’t expect anything from her, even though his morning wood had taken much longer than usual to subside, thanks to the little snuffling noises she’d made as she slept.
He had more to think about than getting into her pants, as much as he’d like to, especially after being in her company for the day, beginning to understand her core of strength. They’d discussed the Sorhineth briefly in between her catching up on sleep, but mostly they’d gotten to know each other. Tentatively at first, in the way of two strangers stuck together.
He got the impression she didn’t like Terrans much, but was putting up with him because of the Sorhineth. Her low opinion of him bothered him more than it should.
Over the course of the drive he’d given her a brief tutorial on the workings of the Terrans—how each Keeper controlled their own element, but mixed breeds like him were pretty much limited to the basic stuff. Silence, protection, that sort of thing.
She’d talked about the legend of the journal she now had possession of and how she’d believed the whole Warden legend to be a family joke until he’d shown up. She’d also surprised him by explaining the Sorhineth’s novel camouflage properties. His ancestors had been clever indeed, to bespell it to fade from sight when she was no more than a few yards away. While there were certainly ways around it—such as binding her and then standing nearby to read—it guaranteed the Warden would have a long life.
And at the end of the day, he was still attracted to her … probably even more so. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t bedded his share of partners over the years, but he hadn’t felt a connection this deeply forged since Angeline, and it made him twitchy, plain and simple.
He put off his dilemma of how to handle the whole situation by heading for the bathroom. After all, he really did need to take a leak.
Brenna solved the predicament of what to say about the sleeping arrangements quite nicely by slipping out of her slacks and blouse, leaving him with a glimpse of toned ivory skin clothed only by jewel-blue panties and a bra before he closed the door.
The quick look was enough to send his tired body into overdrive. Jesus, what her business suit had been hiding! What he’d dreamed of this morning was nothing compared to the real goods.
How in the hell had this spiraled out of control so quickly? Yesterday he’d been focused on the mission—nebulous though it might be—of making San Francisco a better place. Now he and a smart, voluptuous, totally feminine Warden were bunking together, sharing the same damned bed, and Jenalee was missing. Oh, and he couldn’t forget the Destroyer who’d defaced Brenna’s bedroom and was quite possibly behind Jenalee’s disappearance. He hadn’t been in battle for over fifteen years, and could feel it telling on him. His comfortable, self-created world had imploded, and he knew his hunt for the Sorhineth was the cause of it all.
He took stock of where his thoughts had taken him and berated himself for being so melodramatic. Even if it were true, he was a Protector, and more than willing and able to meet whatever faced him head on. He needed to embrace his father’s side and bury the empathy his mother had instilled in him. It would do him no good in this situation.
He took care of business and walked back into the main room, not so surprised to find Brenna already underneath the covers, body relaxed in sleep.
He stripped down to his boxers and slid beneath the sheets himself, asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
* * * *
Brenna woke slowly, cocooned in warmth and comfort, her head cushioned by a pillow, her body pinned against the hard male body at her back by a strong arm. The clock on her side of the bed read five a.m. Only six hours of sleep.
It took a minute before she remembered exactly who she shared her bed with, and when she did, she started, wondering if it was intentional on Donovan’s part, or simply the instincts and comfort of a male. Either way, her body was reacting to him in a way it hadn’t responded to a man in a very long time.
For a moment she just lay there, relishing the heat coursing through her body, the tickle of the hair on his arm against her abdomen, the undeniably hardened length of his cock against her ass.
Donovan shifted behind her, pulling her closer, burying his face in her hair as his hand splayed between her satin-covered breasts.
Brenna tensed and her breath caught as her nipples pebbled. What in the hell was she supposed to do? She could wiggle out of his embrace, and probably wake him in the process and embarrass them both or she could lie here and soak up the warmth. It really wasn’t much of a choice.
Even as she luxuriated in the sensation of his body against hers, her mind whirled.
She hadn’t had time to think of much of anything since entering her house a day and a half ago. Now she had the time—and the brainpower—to think about what might happen in the coming days and to consider the long-term aspects of what bringing the Sorhineth home to the Terrans meant.
She’d never really considered how her life would change if the Sorhineth was claimed, but now her future was in flux. As a Warden, she had to be where the book was. If that meant Donovan wanted to sta
y in San Francisco, then she was bound by tradition and her family’s word to comply.
The basic fundamentals of who and what the Terrans were had been passed down, but Brenna wasn’t quite ready to change years of family impressions on less than twenty-four hours of acquaintance with this one. What she did know was the Terrans had been around since the beginning of mankind, keeping Nature in balance through the use of extra-human powers. Sometimes it meant helping out mere humans, sometimes not. But from what Callahan had said, and what she’d seen with her own eyes, something had gone terribly wrong. It remained to be seen if he was as good as his promises.
When it came right down to it, Callahan’s appearance meant leaving her family, her friends, her career, behind. It meant taking on a task she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. She was a librarian, for God’s sake, not a commando. Was she ready, at twenty-five, to start all over again? And even if she did, what was she supposed to do about the man in her bed right now? Under “normal” circumstances, a Terran wanting the Sorhineth was a non-event, it was her job. But with a Destroyer in the picture, all bets were off.
She could easily envision having a sexual relationship with him, but was she really interested in that? On a physical level, hell yeah. On an intellectual one, no. The Terrans were completely different beings, with rules and a culture all their own, at least from what Gram had said. The fact she’d seen little to change her opinion only cemented what her mind told her.
She knew she’d be neck-deep in their intrigue and self-serving culture simply by being around them, but she didn’t relish drowning in it by engaging in the mattress mambo with Callahan.
So for right now, she’d enjoy the fact she was in his arms with no strings attached.
She relaxed her body against his big, indisputably male one, and closed her eyes, sighing as his breath stirred her hair. This Terran was undoubtedly sexy, all honed lines and muscle, but she had another reason for keeping herself at a distance, of a sort. She’d figured out his relationship with Jenalee last night during the long hours of driving. His reaction to her probable abduction had been that of a best friend, yes, but there’d been more to it. What he’d expressed had been the concern of a lover.
Because she was a woman who appreciated boundaries, she’d respect his feelings for the singer, even if his body was reacting in an entirely different way right this second. It didn’t mean she couldn’t look, and take great pleasure in it. It didn’t mean she couldn’t imagine, because it was safe, and oh-so satisfying.
* * * *
The shrill ring of the telephone brought Brenna around for the second time that morning. She swam up through layers of deep sleep, wondering why Callahan didn’t pick up the damned thing. As she came fully awake, she realized she could hear the drum of the shower in the bathroom.
She snagged the phone. “Hullo.”
“This is your wake-up call,” an obscenely cheerful voice chirped in her ear. “Would you like me to connect you to room service?”
“Yes, please,” Brenna mumbled.
“Room service, can I help you?” Damn, it almost sounded like the same voice. It was way too early in the morning to be this friggin’ happy.
“Coffee, two pots. Continental breakfast for two. To-go cups for the extra coffee.”
“It’ll be about fifteen minutes.”
Brenna grunted in reply, replaced the handset and rolled over, throwing an arm over her eyes. How could she have been so alert two hours ago, and feel like crap now?
The shower cut off and a few moments later Callahan walked out of the bathroom. Brenna slitted an eye and simply took pleasure in the sight of him, one towel tied around his narrow waist, another draped over his shoulders. His chest was lightly sculpted and decorated with battle scars ranging from razor-thin to vicious and painful looking. A sparse smattering of hair arrowed down beneath the towel to the conspicuous bulge tenting the terrycloth.
Growing up around four brothers and being involved in relationships here and there told her it was a morning condition, but it still made her flush uncharacteristically. It didn’t take much of a leap to picture him standing in the shower, water sluicing over his powerful body, a strong hand wrapped around his morning hard-on. It was an image that imprinted itself in her brain, and she had the feeling she wouldn’t be shaking it anytime soon. Her body certainly responded to it, as a familiar warmth bloomed deep in her stomach and her nipples hardened against the satin of her bra.
“Good morning,” he said quietly, his voice pure velvet in the pre-dawn air.
“Coffee’s on the way.” She sat up in bed, pulling the sheet up to cover her. Sexy or not, Callahan was taken, and off-limits because of it.
He averted his eyes and turned away, giving her a modicum of privacy. She crawled out of bed, grabbed her clothes and walked into the bathroom.
After standing under the steaming showerhead for at least ten minutes, she felt invigorated, as if the marathon drive never was. She was tempted to take care of the ache the image of him created, but was afraid he would hear, or know, somehow, that she’d been masturbating, thinking of him. Things were complicated enough right now, and she could deal with a little discomfort which would fade as the day wore on. It didn’t stop her from directing the shower spray against her nipples, of picturing his warm, wet mouth caressing her. A tiny orgasm surged through her, brought on by imagination and the warm pulse of the water alone. Her imagination had definitely taken flight, but now she was frustrated—wanting—even more.
She stepped from the shower, thankful he’d left the bathrobe for her use. The last thing she wanted to do was stroll into the room wearing nothing but a towel, not with the all-too-pleasant throbbing in her pussy.
After finger-combing her hair, she used an extra washcloth and the complimentary toothpaste to scrape the morning scum from her teeth.
She slid into her slacks and blouse with a grimace. A real toothbrush, comfortable clothes and clean underwear were definitely the first order of business—right after a caffeine fix.
The oh-so-welcome scent of coffee teased her nose as she walked out of the bathroom. A mug appeared magically under her nose, and she took the cup gratefully.
“Thanks,” she managed before she took a swig. Ah. Bliss. Nirvana. Java.
When she looked up, Callahan was clothed in his shirt and slacks from yesterday. The rolled-up sleeves showcased muscular forearms covered with a light dusting of ebony hair. The memory of his arm banded around her, his hand between her breasts, sent another flush through her, making her pussy throb and clench in response. Damn, maybe not taking care of herself was going to be more uncomfortable than she’d thought.
She was a woman who enjoyed sex, enjoyed the dance of flirtation. So why was she so uncomfortable with how she reacted to Donovan Callahan? It wasn't as if anything would come of it.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to drive, at least to Albuquerque, so you can tell me what you know of the Sorhineth.”
Brenna shook her head, jiggling some sense into it. “Sounds like a plan. But before we head anywhere, I need some more clothes, and definitely a toothbrush.”
“We can ask the clerk when we leave and pick something up on the way out of town.”
Brenna nodded and grabbed a Danish before settling into a plush armchair. She bit into the pastry with a grateful sigh, then reached down and rooted around in her purse, pulling out a comb. When she lifted her head, Callahan watched her with a brooding expression.
“I’m sorry.”
“Pardon?”
“I put you and your family in jeopardy. It wasn’t something I considered when I started this. I’m used to dealing with real danger on my own.” The tone of his voice suggested he wasn’t used to apologizing often … for anything.
She took a moment to wonder why, exactly, he was being so nice to her. As a Terran, he certainly could have taken her and the Sorhineth with no apologies, it was his right, and she wouldn’t have fought him. It was an interesting dichotomy
, and one she wasn’t sure she could put her finger on.
“What exactly is it you do … really?” Maybe getting to know him a little would help her understand better. They hadn’t covered this yesterday during the brief times both had been awake.
“Now? I own a bodyguard service. We provide security for people like Jenalee and corporate types.”
“And what about before?”
“Military.”
She could tell from his response that he wasn’t going to give her anything else, so she let it go … for now. With a gaggle of brothers as manly-man as hers, she understood his reticence. She didn’t like it much, but she understood it. So she gave him something back.
“The claiming of the Sorhineth is something we’ve been anticipating for generations. I just never thought it would happen on my watch, you know? The Kennedys have always understood what being Wardens means, though to be quite honest, even though we put plans in place, none of us expected it.” Yeah, none of them had predicted this.
If her whiplash change in subject surprised him, it didn’t show. “Your brothers, your parents, how is it they can just pick up and hide? They all have jobs, responsibilities. Just like you do.”
Brenna dropped the comb back in her purse and shifted in her chair, cradling the mug between her palms. “Maybe it’s time I explained exactly what being a Warden means. We’re your typical Irish-American family, but with a twist. From what little Gram passed down, when the Clan agreed to become Wardens, we were ‘gifted’ by the Terrans. Gram was the first female Warden, and the family decided to keep the name Kennedy, to make it easier for the Terrans to find us. We can sense a Destroyer, can recognize a Terran, making it pretty easy to know who to hand the Sorhineth to. But we are also innately good at business, if it’s the road we choose. Unfortunately,” she grinned, “the primary Warden doesn’t have any of those gifts. He or she gets to rely on the rest of the family. Generations of sound decisions have allowed our family to build a considerable fortune, even by today’s standards. You may look at Tommy and see a hotheaded smoke eater, but he majored in business law at Harvard, graduated Summa cum Laude, and passed the bar on his first try before he decided he wanted to do something else with his life. Same with Terry. He was an engineering major at Cambridge. Tim went to Johns Hopkins for his residency. Dad, even though he’s not a Warden by blood, is smart as hell, and continued our family’s prosperity. So while we’ve all settled into professions that make us happy, dropping off the face of the earth for a while isn’t going to impact us financially. Each of my brothers has had an exit plan in place since they began their jobs.” She sat back and watched him digest her little speech.