Connor (3 page)

But she was hardly white. She looked more middle-eastern. Kidnapping someone like her for the white slave trade was like taking coals to Newcastle.

The hysterical thoughts ran on unfettered as he grabbed her from behind and slapped his hand over her mouth again. No, this wasn't happening. She wasn't being drugged by a gorgeous guy with cat-eyes, who'd given her two orgasms by just biting her neck, and was now threatening to kidnap her.

Things like that didn't happen to her. So it just wasn't happening!

Things were going south fast. Connor had entered the B & B, which Cameron had pointed out the night before, identified the room where surveillance was being carried out and picked the lock. Cameron said that he could feel himself being watched when he exercised in the mornings, so that was the time Connor had agreed to investigate. Whoever was watching the Scorpio Son so closely would be too busy to be aware of his silent lock-picking. If they did, he could claim he'd gone to the wrong room. A flimsy excuse, but enough to get him out of there in a hurry.

So, finding a gorgeous, sloe-eyed beauty sitting on the floor, wrapped up for winter in the icy room, had been a shock. Not that he wouldn't put it past the Guild to set a woman on them, but this one didn't look capable of defending herself, no less taking out an assailant. Her dark eyes, outlined by thick, sooty lashes, had all the wide-eyed appeal of Bambi, when he'd opened the door on her. If her short, dark hair hadn't had a bad case of bedhead he'd have sworn it had stood on end at the sight of him.

He'd heard her heartbeat speed up as her breathing became faster and shallower. She looked just like a small, frightened woman accosted in her own bedroom by a big, dangerous stranger. If not for the camera she'd hidden behind her, he would likely have been fooled.

When she'd started throwing amusing one-liners at him, it cracked him up. She was terrified, but not beaten down. Her courage appealed to him. Like her fragile beauty appealed to him. For a moment, when she'd almost fallen, he'd believed her act. But the good-natured way she'd accept the defeat told him that she was quite the actress. From the John Wayne School of Drama, no less. Of all the crazy things she could have come out with, that was the craziest.

But being that close to her was his undoing. She smelled like cinnamon heaven and the sweet arousal coming off her was not something she could disguise. But she was unwilling to give in to it, just as she was unwilling to give in to her fear. She threatened to scream if he took her camera. Scream like a
woman fighting off a rapist.
The way she'd said it was like it was a role in an improv. And he wasn't about to test out her acting skills.

That was when things really went south. Having her pressed against him, her well-shaped bum nestling against him, her neck just inches away, had been too much temptation. Even then he didn't know what was going on. He'd thought she was just another pretty woman who'd caught his eye.

That was when he'd done the unthinkable. Without warning, his cat had come out, his canines had dropped, and before he had time to stop himself, he'd bitten her. That had never happened before. Not the cat coming out when he was aroused, or the biting. If he hadn't heard about the phenomena from Colt, he would have totally freaked out. Instead, as he'd leaned over his prey – his teeth buried in her flesh; the sweet, intoxicating taste of her blood seeped into his mouth – he'd felt more alive than he ever had in his life.

Every one of his already heightened senses had gone into overdrive. Connor could hear and feel her blood pumping madly through her veins. He could sense every minor muscular contraction, right down to her curling toes in those absurdly thick socks. The feather soft hair brushing the side of his face was magnified until it took over everything.

And as soon as he'd bitten her, he'd known what was happening. Colt had done the same thing to Alyssa when he'd activated her cat. It was like their cats recognised their mates and knew what to do, even when the human part of them didn't have a clue.

It helped to know he wasn't really hurting her, either, though it seemed a pretty violent thing to do to someone as fragile as she appeared. From what Colt had told him, being bitten was like Fourth of July fireworks going off inside you. It hurt a little, but that just increased the pleasure.

So it didn't surprise him when his enemy had her first orgasm almost as soon as he bit her. It did surprise him a little when she came again so quickly after he'd cupped her perfectly formed breast in his hand and twisted the erect nipple between his thumb and index finger.

By then he was close to coming himself. Never had something so innocuous threatened to push him over the edge.

Sex had always been a game to him, one he prided himself on playing well. Women, lots of women, came to him because of his looks and charm, but they
stayed
because he
had
staying
power. Not in fidelity, but where it counted.

So here he was, nearly shooting his load into his sweatpants because he'd made it to first base with a pretty girl. How old was he again? Thirteen?

That was how old he'd been the last time he nearly had such an embarrassing accident. He'd worked hard to get better control after that, and when he finally lost his virginity at fourteen he was proud he lasted ten minutes of the bump-and-grind before coming.

His reputation was made that day, and he hadn't looked back ever since. Until today when a cheeky little Yank with big, dark eyes had wrapped him around her finger from the moment he laid eyes on her. Though he wanted to deny it, the signs were all there. She was his mate, or mate to one of them.

Having only Alyssa as their measure, none of them was quite sure whether the women who'd been grown from embryos, genetically engineered to match their own DNA, were for just any of them. Alyssa had bonded with Colt the night he saved her from rape at her college, and had no interest in anyone else from that moment on. Colt was equally consumed.

Connor had certainly found Alyssa alluring, once she'd been activated, but not enough to challenge his partner for her, and certainly not enough to feel this out of control.

Would they have to test out their attraction to others as Alyssa and Colt had? Back then, he'd told Colt that if he'd wanted Alyssa the way Colt did, there was no way he'd have played nice about the possibility of sharing. He didn't share. Not with casual flings, not with possessions, and sure as hell not with this problematic woman.

What the hell was he supposed to do with her? He couldn't let her go, now that she'd been activated and had seen what they both were. And he doubted he could let her go, even if she was nonethe-wiser. This irrational, primal urge was uncontrollable and it wasn't about to let him just walk away, now he'd found her. And that ruled out killing her too. Even if she turned out to be Guild, he couldn't put her down.

So that left them all in very vulnerable territory. Left to her own devices, this mate of his could betray them all. That couldn't be allowed to happen. But what was the alternative?

When she tried to run from him, he'd caught her easily. Every wriggle only succeeded in further stimulating his aching cock. He sensed her preparing to scream, so he slammed his hand over her mouth again, holding her in place as easily as he would have a child. But a child moving against his enflamed cock wouldn't have driven him this mad. Wrestling with an ordinary woman wouldn't have caused this kind of reaction. No, it was her. Only her. And wasn't that just a bitch.

Cursing loudly and imaginatively, he sought for an answer. He had a drug on him that would make her amenable to following orders. He could use it to get her to walk out of here with him. It was what he'd planned to use on the person taking pictures from this window.

But the idea of drugging his mate went against his deepest instincts. Protecting her was what his cat required of him.

How long they stood there, with her back yet again pressed into his cock and his hand over her mouth, he didn't know. Long enough for his excitement to go beyond painful. Long enough for her to have relaxed against him again, her desire to flee overcome by her obvious attraction to him.

What if he just took her here and now as his cat wanted? Maybe once the first obsessive urge to mate was completed it would be easier to think. But it had gotten worse between Colt and the songbird after they mated for the first time. No thanks to Colt's lack of tact, of course. The idjit had told her that sex with her wasn't normal and wasn't worth what it cost him. Had he really expected her to take that well?

But now Connor was in the same mess. His brain was in his pants and logic and tact were way down the list of priorities. No, sex was only going to make things worse. So he needed to get her out of here and into a safe-house where she could be interrogated properly. Once they knew her situation, then they could work out what the hell they were going to do with her.

"I've got a choice for yer. Convince me you'll walk out'a here without a fuss and I won't drug yer. If yer take the drug option be aware that it's fast actin' and yer'll have a hell of a headache when yer coming down off it. So I personally wouldn't recommend that option. But it's up to yer. One way or the other, yer leaving here wi' me. And just so yer can relax a little, I can assure yer that I have no plans to kill yer. So be nice and we'll get along just fine."

He removed his hand from her mouth to hear her answer.

"That's so reassuring. How could I not agree to come with you willingly after having my options laid out so thoroughly?" Sarcasm dripped from each word. But at least she made no move to scream or fight him. Maybe she was finally seeing sense.

Quickly, he gathered up her equipment, while keeping one eye on her and the door. He'd moved cat-fast too often since he met her, so it was a bit late to start playing at being human now the cat was quite literally out of the bag.

"How do you do that?" she muttered what sounded like a rhetorical question as she pulled on a dark coat.

"Same way yer can, now. Yer have quite a few surprises awaiting yer …?" He paused, waiting for her to fill in her name.

"Alice Wunderlund," she supplied grudgingly.

"And there I thought we were getting along just fine. Now yer won't even tell me yer name? Okay, Alice, time for yer to go down the rabbit hole. I promise not to be tempted by anything that says
Eat Me
."

She choked on the sexual double-entendre, before showing her disgust at his clichés. "Gee, how unusual, a joke about my name. Do you have to wonder why I call myself Allie?"

"You're serious. Your name is Alice Wunderlund?" He dropped a good part of his accent as he opened the door, but kept her plastered to his side as they made their way down the narrow, brightly lit staircase to the ground floor.

"Alice N. Wunderlund, to be precise. My passport's in the laptop case. My adoptive parents had a weird sense of humour. I'd call it cruel, but they weren't that forward thinking to imagine what kids would do to a girl named Alice N. Wunderlund."

"What's the N stand for?" He opened the front door, letting in the gust of cold dark, morning air and drew her outside. As the chill soaked through his heavy-weight sweats, he began leading her across the dark park, lit only by Victorian lampposts, towards Cameron's home. At that moment it seemed the most expedient place to go in the short-term.

When she realised where they were going, she balked. "No, I can't go in there. He's my assignment. You're blowing my cover. Please, I'll do anything you ask, but not that. This job's important to me and I'll lose it if –"

"Lass," Connor interrupted her anxious pleading. "Your cover is blown sky-high. The least of your problems right now is your job. So tell me what the
N
stands for."

Grudgingly, she began walking again and chose to answer him. "My parents were Nordic. Nana is my middle name."

He couldn't control the laughter that bubbled up yet again. "Did you have yellow PJs, Nana?"

She looked up at him as if he'd gone mad.

"Nanas in pyjamas…"

She groaned and hit him in the shoulder. It was such a natural thing to do that for a moment he forgot that she was the enemy and he was kidnapping her. Being with this woman would be no hardship at all.

"So what's your name, Jerk Wad?"

He chuckled and pulled her in closer to make up for insulting her name. Once again he broadened his accent for effect. "Connor O'Brien, at your service. Middle name is just as Irish. Patrick."

"Gosh and begorrah, 'tis Connor Patrick O'Brien, is it then?" she said in the worst Irish accent he'd ever heard.

"Ouch. You stop mutilating my accent and I'll stop making cracks about Cheshire cats and all. How's that?"

She gave a little laugh and agreed, and her steps no longer dragged as they approached the white marble-façade of Cameron's town house. If she was Guild, she really had no idea the danger she was walking so blithely into. It seemed a sin to be using his charm to gain her co-operation like this. But while ever it worked it was his best and least alarming option.

However, as the front door of the townhouse opened, and Cameron stood sentry in the doorway, no foyer light illuminating his daunting pose, she stalled yet again, this time on the lowest step leading up to it. Connor could sense her planning her escape.

"Remember how fast I move, Allie, my lass. You don't have a chance."

With a deep sigh, she began climbing the five steps to Cameron's side.

"Who's this?" Cameron demanded, stepping inside to allow them to enter. Almost as an afterthought he turned on a light-switch.

"Alice N. Wunderlund, complete with surveillance equipment for her trip down the rabbit hole. We have a complication."

Cameron, supercilious dick that he was, leaned in and sniffed at Allie as she came within range. "What the hell
is
she?"