Megan's Mark (13 page)

Will you die for them?
She didn’t want to die. She wanted to live. She wanted to fight as she was meant to fight, to know adventure, life. Love. She wanted all those things she had dreamed of as a child. Before she had begun feeling the remnants of broken lives and broken dreams. Before she had realized the danger she could become to anyone she worked with, anyone she was around.

“You don’t know that.” She shook her head fiercely.

“You can’t be certain.”

His laughter was rife with knowledge, dark and brutal. His expression was a grimace of savage, remorseless truth.

Of course they could kill her. He was proof that they could and would tamper in ways nature had never intended.

“I can be certain.” He tilted his head as he watched her.

“And you know it’s the truth. You know it, Megan, just as well as I do.”

She flinched at his words. The news was still filled with stories of new horrors discovered within the Breed Labs, and the records found. The experiments, so horrible, so demonic that even now, years after the first Breed had come forward, the world could only look on in shock.

“Aimee was one year out of the Labs,” he reminded her then. “If you read the files that were confiscated when the Lab fell you would know that before her rescue she was a toy. She hadn’t grown in strength, in effectiveness, so she was turned over to the Council Trainers and guards for their pleasure.”

“Stop.” She didn’t want to hear this.

“They raped her. Day after day, night after night. They allowed her to run; they let her fight and they laughed at her weakness as they raped her. Over and over again, Megan. Because she wasn’t human. She was a creature. A toy. Without worth.”

She wanted to cover her ears, to block out the remnants of memory, the muted screams she had heard as she stood beside the SUV. Knowledge. She had been able to block it for the small amount of time she had been there. She had kept a careful distance, hadn’t touched the bodies, hadn’t touched the vehicles. Had refused to open her senses enough to feel the pain screaming through Aimee’s body. But enough of it had slipped past the barrier she had slammed up that she knew of the betrayal.

“I can’t tell you why they were killed.” She clenched her fists as she crossed her arms over her chest, fighting to hold back the chill moving through her. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“How do you know it doesn’t?” He continued to watch her intently. Too intently. His gaze sliced through her defenses. “You’ve never tried.”

“And I can’t start now.” Once she released the fragile barrier between her and the world, she knew it wouldn’t end. The pain would go on forever.

“Yes, you can. And you will.” His voice was hard. Determined.

Megan found herself stepping back as his arms uncrossed, the power and strength in the hard muscles of his chest, his biceps, drawing her gaze. They rippled as he moved, much like the huge lions his DNA came from.

“I can’t do what you want.” She forced the words past her lips, seeing the steely determination in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Braden. I can’t be what you need.”

She turned and left the room, moving quickly toward the stairs, her only clear thought to escape him, to escape herself. She felt too much when she was around him. She had fought for too many years for the measure of peace she had found in her life, only to learn that all the planning, all the hiding, had been in vain. A curious sense of failure swept over her.

As she raced up the stairs, she was instinctively aware of Braden behind her, coming for her. He had no intention of letting her escape so easily.

As she reached the second-floor landing, his hard arm latched around her waist, pulling her against him a second before she found herself against the wall. A gasp left her lips as his hand slid between her thighs, cupping her, holding her heat captive in his palm.

“You are more than I ever dreamed I would find in this desert,” he growled. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll control me, Megan. It doesn’t mean you can run from me or that I will allow you to hide from yourself.”

His fingers pressed closer, adding a heat and pressure to her swollen clit that had her gasping in surprise. Her juices eased from her vagina, dampening her further as she felt the muscles swelling, pulsing erratically for his touch. The taste of cinnamon and brown sugar lingered on her tongue, reminding her of his taste, the heat of his kiss.

“This isn’t going to solve anything.” She struggled against him, biting back her moan as he held her firm, his other hand moving beneath her shirt, his fingertips skimming her stomach before flattening just below her breast.

“I’m not here to solve anything except the danger stalking you,” he reminded her, his voice a dark, deep male purr. The sound of it excited, terrified. “This,” he pressed closer to her back as his fingers began a gentle rubbing motion between her thighs, “isn’t meant to solve. It isn’t meant to be comfortable, or a place to hide. Starting here…” She whimpered as he pressed harder against her clit, rubbing more firmly as she went to her tiptoes to escape the extreme reactions racing through her body. “This is to show you. To tempt you…” A smile filled his voice a second before his teeth grazed her neck. “To remind you… I’m the boss, baby. You will do it because I say you will. You will learn how to use your gift, you will learn how to fight, because the alternative is death, and that is unacceptable. And you can do it one of two ways…” His voice deepened. “The easy way…” His hand smoothed over her stomach. “Or the hard way.” His fingers pressed, stroked, rotated.

Megan’s eyes widened as wildfire skipped through her veins and pleasure popped through her womb.

It wasn’t an explosion. It wasn’t an orgasm meant to destroy her senses or bring her to her knees in submission. It was meant to tease, a taste of ecstasy, a deliberately seductive, erotically diabolical surge of pleasure that would ensure she could never forget. Never forget who gave it, or where the ultimate pleasure could be found.

“Remember that cupcake.” He growled before turning and stalking to his room, anger radiating from him in waves as she watched him disappear.

She was still trembling, shuddering from the excessive pleasure and her inability to control it. She couldn’t control the need, herself or him. Oh boy, she was in so much trouble now.

Chapter Eight

She wasn’t in the best of moods the next morning. She had tossed and turned in bed, aroused, furious, and scared.

Scared of the sensations she felt when Braden touched her, of her own reaction to him, and the bonding she could feel tying them together. The last was the crux of the matter. She had never bonded with anyone outside her family, especially not a man as hard and as formidable as Braden.

She knew what he wanted from her, knew he wasn’t going to let her hide or ignore the very things she had fought to ignore for so many years. It would have been easily avoided if she could convince herself it wasn’t something she wanted; but she knew it was. She wanted to learn how to control her talents, how to separate herself from her abilities and sift through the echoes of emotions to the knowledge beneath. She had never succeeded on her own, and though she feared the failure of trying again, she knew she would. She would, because the opportunity was there; because she knew it could well be her last chance.

With the emotions churning so restlessly inside her, it was no surprise that when Lance called, ordering her into the office for a meeting, it irritated her.

“Broken Butte isn’t a large town,” Megan lectured Braden as they drove past the city limit sign just before noon. “We’re a very close-knit community. We don’t mind outsiders, but we don’t like governmental types.” She sneaked a look from the corner of her eye as he slouched in his seat, his Stetson pulled low to shade his eyes.

Damn, he looked good in that hat. And she didn’t want to remember how good he looked; didn’t want to acknowledge it. She was still burning from his touch the night before, so desperate to be taken it was a wonder she hadn’t gone to his bed last night.

“I promise I’m housebroken, Megan,” he drawled.

“Only because it suits you at the moment.” She grunted, shifting in her seat as she entered the outer edges of town.

She was aware of the long look he directed at her. It was impossible not to be aware of it. Her body was so highly sensitive now that she swore she could feel his gaze raking over her.

“Megan, sweetheart,” he chastised her, his voice deepening to an outrageously sensual pun: “I promise to behave myself. Jonas assures me I passed Civility with flying colors.”

He had been like this all morning. Gently sardonic, watching her, his gaze patient as he seemed to wait on something. He could wait until hell froze over. It didn’t matter what he wanted, she was determined to deny him.

Of course, she knew exactly what
she
wanted. Or rather, what her body wanted.

No way, no how. Whatever the hell was wrong with her, she was not giving in to it. She clenched her thighs together tighter, very well aware of Braden’s carefully drawn breath. He could smell her arousal and that was just pissing her off.

“Would you stop it,” she hissed as she pulled into the parking lot of the sheriff’s office. “You start walking around sniffing the damned air and everyone is going to know exactly what you are. And for God’s sake, keep those damned teeth hidden. One flash of that vampire smile of yours and little children will run screaming.”

He smiled slowly. “Actually, most seem rather interested in it. I believe that fake Breed teeth even went on sale at the malls this year. I hear the Breed Pride is making a mint from the sales.”

Megan pulled into the first available parking spot before laying her head on the steering wheel and shaking it in defeat.

“It’s okay, baby.” She started when his hand stroked slowly down her back. “I’ll make it all better when we get home.”

Her head snapped up. “You are certifiably insane.” She groaned, shaking off his touch as he chuckled devilishly.

“Keep your damned paws to yourself.”

His grin was rakish as he tipped his hat back a bare inch, his eyes filled with mirth.

Megan shivered at the look. She would have moaned but she’d be damned if she would give him the satisfaction.

“Let’s go.” She released her seat belt before pushing open the door and stepping out. “Lance is already pissed off enough at me. I don’t need to be late for this meeting to make it worse.”

“Remind me to find a less confrontational partner the next time.” He sighed as she frowned at him darkly. “You, Megan, are becoming downright hostile. For a woman who smells so sweet and warm, your attitude leaves much to be desired.”

She just bet it did. If he kept this up she was going to show him the working end of her pistol and let him see just how confrontational she could really get.

“You know,” he said, “I bet if you try real hard, you could stand right here and figure out just what this mysterious meeting is all about.” Braden stopped several feet from the steps that led to the double doors.

She stared back at him in horror before glancing around to make certain no one heard his blasphemous words.

“Would you shut up,” she snapped.

His brows arched questioningly. “Come on, Megan. It would be easy. Just give it a little try.”

With a sneer she brushed past him and headed up the steps. She heard his sigh a second before a small, amused grunt of laughter preceded him up the steps.

“Well, you could have at least tried.” He managed to grab the door handle before she did, pulling it open with a flourish as she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

Deputy Jenson’s fury slapped at her as she passed his office. It was always present—the dark violence, the thirst for blood. He wasn’t one of the good guys, but until he broke the right rule, Lance couldn’t get rid of him. That edge of violence nagged at her until Braden moved closer, distracting her with his clean male scent and aura of male arousal that whipped around her senses.

Megan breathed in deeply, ducking her head as she gritted her teeth and moved purposefully to Lance’s office at the end of the building. Separated from the main offices by the visiting rooms, it leant a less emotionally chaotic feel.

Lance was a calm person, not given to violence, though with a ragged edge of bitterness that saddened Megan. He was still one of the easiest people to be around.

She knocked on his door.

“In,” Lance snapped.

Megan cast Braden a frowning glance as she gripped the doorknob, feeling Lance’s anger seeping through the panel.

“What did you do?” she hissed, not in the least taken in by his innocent look.

“Me?” He arched his brow, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I’ve been a good Leo, darlin’. What did you do?”

She snorted at his reply before pushing the door open and stepping into the room.

She was aware of the tension that snapped around her the minute she entered the room. Though she had been unaware of the other inhabitant standing across the room. And she bet he was a Breed. Dangerous, powerful, and not in the best of moods.

His eyes narrowed the instant she walked in, and heat flooded her face as he raised his head and inhaled quickly.

Son of a bitch. What did they do, go around sniffing every woman in the world like a potential meal? So she was horny. Hadn’t they ever smelled a horny woman before? Or was she somehow different?

The ridiculous thought caused her to turn and glare at Braden. He closed the door behind him and stared at the room’s other occupant with a faintly questioning look. Evidently, he was just as surprised as she was.

“Jonas.” His voice was cautious as Megan stepped to the side, closer to Lance’s desk.

“Braden.” The other man inclined his head slowly, his odd, silver eyes shifting to Megan then to Braden once again.

He was an imposing figure. As tall as Braden; muscular, savage. But this one—Jonas—could easily be a killer. Megan could feel the darkness that surrounded him, the emotions that clashed within him like lightning in the middle of a thunderhead. Rage, dark and barely contained, fought for freedom. But she could also sense honor, pain, regret. The regret was nearly as thick as the rage. All the emotions were subdued though, barely noticeable as an aura of control and determination held them back.