Deadly Desire (37 page)

The air itself was also cold, and ripe with the scent of blood, death, and man—one man, no more. Kye hadn't called in help and I wasn't sure why I thought he might. He was a contract killer. Helping the Directorate and its people in any way, shape, or form would be a
consideration only if it suited his own aims. I had no doubt he'd helped me because it was the only way he could get his kill and claim his payment.

And removing the bullet? Well, if he hadn't it might have killed me, and that wouldn't have been good for his health. He had no idea just how much I'd told the Directorate about his involvement in this case, and he was canny enough to suspect they'd come after him if I died.

I opened my eyes. Hanna's body still lay on the floor near the table, looking more fragile in death than she ever had in life.

Kye squatted against the wall opposite, watching me, his expression that of a predator sizing up an adversary. His dark red hair was still matted with blood, as were his clothes, and his face was battered and bruised.

I wanted him. And hated myself for it.

I closed my eyes and reached for my other form. Once the change had swept over my body, I sat upright and hugged my knees close to my chest. His very nearness had awareness tingling across my skin, and I could only thank God the moon heat had passed. Otherwise my crazy hormones might not have been so easy to control.

“I need to call the Directorate in,” I said, my voice clipped. “If you don't want to be involved, you'd better leave.”

“We need to talk first.”

“Kye, there's nothing you and I need to talk about.
Nothing.”

Especially not the heat that simmered between us, nor the fact that he'd saved my life and I now owed him.

I dropped my gaze from his and concentrated instead on rotating my shoulder, trying to ease the stiffness out of it. At least I could move my arm and fingers again, even if the tips still felt a little numb. Given my sensitivity to silver, it was surprising the aftereffects hadn't lasted a whole lot longer. In fact, I felt amazingly strong, and given the blood I'd lost through the wound, that shouldn't have been the case.

“There's something very vital we need to discuss, and
you
know it.”

His voice was flat, yet there was an edge in it that made me glance up at him again. His golden eyes burned with heat and passion, and something else, something else I really couldn't put a finger on. In any other man I would have called it fear, but this man
didn't
fear. Not anyone or anything.

“I really don't know what you're talking about, Kye.”

And yet I did. He was talking about the heat and the lust that still burned. It was a flame that only seemed to be getting stronger the longer we were together. It was as if our bodies were calling to each other, something that neither of us really wanted and yet couldn't fight.

“And you really do need to go,” I added. Almost desperately.

“I can't go before I know for sure.”

He rose as he said it, and part of me wanted to scoot backward and keep the distance between us.

“There's nothing to know, Kye. Just leave it and go.”

“I
can't.”
The words were as desperate as mine. He didn't want this any more than I did, and yet this man—this wolf, who was as cold and as unemotional as any good killer could be—was as helpless against it as I was.

He stopped in front of me and offered me a hand. I ignored it, looking up at him instead. What I saw there—not just heat, not just desire, not even fear, but something stronger, deeper, and far scarier—made my heart stutter and my blood surge.

Because it was nothing less than fate looking out at me from those golden depths.

And suddenly, just like him, I had to
know.

I placed my hand in his. He hauled me upright, into his arms. I barely had time to draw a breath against the fire of contact when his lips were on mine, the kiss harsh, fierce, and oh so passionate. The force of it drove me backward, until my back hit the wall. My barely healed shoulder took the brunt of the blow and pain slithered through me. But I didn't care, because it was nothing compared to the ache beginning to assault my body.

His hands were on me, caressing me, nipping me, teasing me. It was all passion, all heat and intensity, and I was drowning in it. Willingly, wantonly, until every bit of me was screaming for the ultimate release, and every muscle, every fiber, was so tightly strung it felt like I would shatter.

He ripped off my bodice, then the G-string. I unbuttoned his pants and shoved them down, every move as
urgent as his. His strong hands cupped my butt and hauled me upward. I'd barely wrapped my legs around his waist when he was in me, and God, it was
good.
More than good.

Because it wasn't just our flesh that became joined.

This was a dance of body
and
soul, and it went far beyond mere intimacy, far beyond mere pleasure.

This was the moment I'd been waiting most of my life for, yet all I wanted to do was weep.

I didn't want it to be
this
man. I really didn't.

Then he began to move, and the pain of discovery was ripped away, lost in the glory of the moment. The rich ache grew, becoming a kaleidoscope of sensations that washed through every corner of my mind. Then the shuddering took hold and I gasped, grabbing his shoulders, pulling him toward me, pushing him deeper still. Then everything shattered and it was such a sweet, glorious relief that I wept.

Although most of the tears weren't tears of pleasure or joy.

For several seconds, neither of us moved, our breathing ragged echoes as we stood wrapped around each other. Then I released my grip on his waist and he lowered me to the floor. His expression was as neutral as my mind was chaotic, his golden eyes giving little away. He raised a hand to my face, reaching for but not quite touching my cheek, then dropped it and stepped back.

“So now we know.”

“Yes.” My voice was clipped. I wanted to stamp my feet and rant and rage—at him, and at fate—but there
was absolutely no point. It was no more his fault than it was mine, and there was absolutely nothing either of us could do about it.

“I don't want this.”

My laugh was harsh. “And you think I do? For fuck's sake, Kye, you're the last man on this earth that I would ever want to make a life with.”

The smile that twisted one side of his lips was bitter. “Ironic, isn't it, that we find the one thing that most wolves spend their lives searching for, and neither of us actually wants it?”

“Oh, I want it all right. Just not with you.” I rubbed a hand across my eyes. They were stinging, but no tears were falling. Perhaps I was simply beyond them. “So what do we do?”

“Do?” He reached for his pants and pulled them up. “I suggest nothing. Let's walk away and continue living our lives as we otherwise would.”

It wouldn't be that simple, I was sure. There was a connection between us now, a link that went soul deep. But I guess we had to try. I didn't want this man in my life, soul mate or not.

“Then get out and don't come back.”

He smiled then, but it was a cold smile, a harsh smile. “Good-bye Riley. It was a pleasure, however brief.”

He gave me a slight bow then turned and walked out. I released a breath, then slid down the wall and hugged my knees close to my chest.

What a goddamn, fucking mess.

But I guess I should have known fate wouldn't give me a soul mate without adding her own nasty twist.

I should have arrested the bastard when I first had the chance, then maybe none of this would ever have happened. But I couldn't undo the past, no matter how much I might have wished to. I needed to move forward.

And that meant confronting an even bigger problem.

What the hell did I say to Quinn?

wo hours later I was still at Hanna's, but I'd moved from the inside of the house to the outside, and had parked my butt on the curb. That's where Rhoan found me.

“So,” he said, plopping down beside me and handing me a cup of coffee. “I heard it all went down as expected, and you caught your bad guys. Or gals, as the case may be.”

I took a whiff of the coffee and smiled. Hazelnut. Rhoan obviously knew I needed a pick-me-up, even if he didn't know why.

“Well, it didn't exactly go the way I planned—” which had to be the understatement of the year—“but we stopped them, and that's what counts.”

He sipped his coffee and didn't answer immediately, staring instead at the house across the road. There were
three kids standing at one of the windows, and their little faces had been practically glued to the glass for the last couple of hours. Nothing like a half-naked woman and a host of Directorate vehicles and people to make an everyday suburb more interesting, I guess.

“That older kid over there is getting such a boner watching you.”

“You can tell that from here?”

“His heart rate is way up, and there's a whole lot of blood heat concentrated around one certain area.” He flicked me a grin. “Although it could be me he fancies.”

“Either way, he's a boy with excellent taste.” I took the lid off my coffee and took a sip, but the steaming liquid did little to warm the ice that had formed deep inside.

“Undoubtedly.” He paused to take another drink. “Jack has sent a team to go dig up the daughter, but he doesn't think there's going to be much chance of her being sane.”

“How long has she been in the ground?”

“She was declared dead eight years ago.”

I grimaced. One year would have been insanity-inducing. Eight was the stuff of nightmares. “What is he going to do with her?”

“Probably send her to the vampire council. It's up to them to decide from there.”

“You think they can save a mind destroyed by being locked underground for so long?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “The magic must have kept her alive, because even the strongest vamp can't survive
that long without blood. So maybe it preserved some sanity, as well.”

Anything was possible, I guess. I sipped my coffee and waited for the question that was undoubtedly coming next. I didn't have to wait that long.

“So, who was with you today?”

“Kye. He saved my ass.”

“And then you had sex.” It wasn't a question. He could no doubt smell him all over me.

“Yes.”

“Do you think that was wise?”

I snorted softly. “Brother, you have no idea
just how
unwise that little event was.”

My voice broke in the middle of it, and Rhoan wrapped an arm around my shoulder, hugging me close. It felt so safe and warm—like everything would be okay, no matter how bad things got. Which is everything I should have felt with my soul mate, and everything I didn't.

“Tell me,” he said softly.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, then said, “Kye is my soul mate.”

For several seconds, he didn't react, but I felt his surprise as sharply as if it was my own. Then it burst out of him.
“What?
Are
you sure?”

I laughed, but it was a harsh, almost crazy sound. I gulped back the anguish and rubbed my free hand over my eyes. They still ached, though the tears had yet to come. “As sure as you are that Liander is yours.”

“Fuck.”

“To put it mildly.”

“But….” He paused, as if to gather scattered thoughts. “How can your soul mate be someone you don't actually like?” He glanced at me. “Or do you? Like him, that is?”

“He's the last man on this earth I would ever want to be linked with.” Although I guess he was better than someone like Gautier, the rogue guardian who'd hated me as much as I'd hated him. At least he was dead and out of the picture. Hell, the way fate loved playing with my life, I'm surprised she didn't pick
him
as the one.

“Then how the hell can he be your soul mate?”

“It's not like anyone has ever tried to sit down and examine the rule of soul mates. It just
is.”

“But I've never heard of anyone actively
disliking
her soul mate. Surely there has to be some sort of connection between you both that attracts?”

Another bitter, edgy laugh escaped. “Oh, there's plenty of attraction.”