Megan's Mark (29 page)

“Like what?” That took her by surprise. Her ideas always seemed perfectly sensible to her.

“Like aiming a Wounder at my dick in that canyon.” He growled as his gaze lit with amusement. “Bad girl, Megan. You could have fired by accident.”

He pressed against her, dipping his knees as his hands cupped her ass to lift her closer to that hard, hot flesh. Her robe parted, giving him perfect access to her as his cock slid against the slick, aching flesh of her cunt.

“I knew what I was doing.” She gasped, feeling her knees weaken as the head of his cock parted her inner lips.

“Sure you did,” he crooned as his head lowered to allow his lips to smooth over her jaw.

“Maybe I didn’t.” Her head fell back against the wall as a teasing smile curved her lips. “On second thought, maybe I should have fired… Oh God… Braden!”

The fierce, hard thrust inside the slick depths of her pussy sent shudders of reaction racing through her body.

He was lodged into the very depths of her, the head of his cock rubbing sensually over the entrance to her womb as he flexed within her.

Racing zephyrs of electric awareness seared through her nerve endings as pleasure began to tempt pain, creating a mix of sensations that stole her breath and left her gasping.

Her hands held tight to his muscular neck as the flaming lust and emotion in his gaze seared into her brain. His eyes were locked on hers, refusing to allow her to close them. She didn’t want to close them. She wanted to watch the flare of pleasure in the rich gold depths of his eyes as he began to move slowly, dragging his erection from her until only the swollen head remained. Then with a hard jerk of his hips he was buried inside her again.

Fiery pleasure. A whiplash of heat and mind-numbing intensity. The heavy strokes of his engorged erection filling her, overfilling her. stretching her with such erotic force that she could only cry out, beseeching, pleading for more as he fucked her with lazy, deep thrusts. His lips played with her, his tongue stroking in and out of her mouth, the sweet taste of the Mating hormone driving her pleasure higher.

It wasn’t the hormone that made her want, made her need, she decided. The hormone turned ecstasy into something more, made the pleasure more vibrant, her body better able to relax, to accept the intensity of a lust that would have terrified most women.

But this was Braden. Her Braden.

Her lips captured his tongue, drawing on it. She wrapped her own around it as his hips began to move faster, his cock powering into her with jack-hammer strokes that destroyed her senses.

Wild. Free. She was flying.

The resulting explosion tore through her womb, spasmed her pussy and sent her screaming into orgasm. She felt her muscles clamp down on his erection, heard his harsh, animalistic snarl and felt the sudden, heated impression of the barb extending from his cock.

It locked inside her, holding him in place and sending her into another cataclysmic series of explosions that seemed never ending. It stroked and caressed the ultrasensitive area it was snuggled into.

Hard, pulsing shudders tore through her as Braden’s head lowered to her neck. his teeth nipping, his tongue stroking at the small wound he had left there. His hands flexed on her ass as his cock flexed inside her until finally, mercifully, the almost painful pleasure began to ease and she collapsed in his arms.

Megan was only barely aware of Braden moving then until she felt the slow exit of his erection from her tender vagina and, a second later, the comforting cushion of the mattress at her back.

“Stay out of trouble,” she murmured as she turned her head into the pillow, allowing the exhaustion to finally claim her. “I’m too tired to save your ass.”

Braden watched silently as sleep stole her from him, stilling the chaotic emotions that had swirled between them. Her mind had shut down all thought processes, finally.

The chase, the wreck, the sex. The combination of adrenaline-laced activities had finally crashed inside her.

As they were crashing inside him.

He lay down beside her, pulling the sheet over them to protect her from the chill of the bedroom before closing his eyes as well. The Breeds guarding the house would keep them safe for tonight. They would leave when he arose, heading overseas to fight a much more important battle than the one he was waging here, in this desert. He was one Breed whose stubborn mate refused the safety of Sanctuary.

There were many others out there in desperate need of a ride out of hell. The Feline community had no choice but to concentrate their efforts there. There were so few of them left.

He allowed his hand to smooth down the long strands of her silken hair. glorying in the feel of it, the memory of it wrapping around his body, caressing him with sensuous little ripples of pleasure.

She was a treasure, one he had never expected to find in his life. Now, protecting her could become his greatest battle. Because he knew that whoever or whatever was closing in on them had no intention of leaving either of them alive.

He could only pray his experience and training could pull them out of it.

Chapter Eighteen

It was a dream; she knew it was a dream. Megan stood in the center of the training room at the Academy, her breasts heaving as she fought for breath after putting herself through the grueling series of exercises designed to strengthen and tone her muscles.

She was tired. The exhausting Academy courses during the day, combined with her nightly routine was getting the best of her. The agonizing drain on her strength from the emotions, hopes, dreams and hatred that filled her fellow classmates had driven her to the training center at night. There, she tried to exhaust herself to the point that her mind just didn’t give a shit what it sensed.

She couldn’t seem to shut things down though. Exhaustion was eating her alive, fuzzing her brain, making it impossible for her to separate or distinguish among the individual thought patterns.

A whimper of agony sizzled through her. Not her own pain but another’s, blinding and soul deep. A blistering wave of inconsolable grief and rage that brought her to her knees and left her gasping for air:

It wasn’t the first time the emotions filling the Law Enforcement Academy had incapacitated her. The recruits were young, some more violent than others. And this late at night their twisted dreams and nightmares reached out to her and tortured her sensitive brain.

This was worse though. Perhaps the mix of exhaustion and her own fears had caused it. Or the stress of attempting to hide the curse that haunted her every step from her superiors while assuring her parents that her shields were developing against the talents she had inherited. Whichever it was, she was left trapped within the pain now, fighting for control.

She dragged herself wearily to her feet, swaying beneath the rush of rage that slammed into her head. The pent-up horror was agonizing to feel. The wail of silent screams, the determination to hold back the nightmare.

Escape
…
The word whispered through her mind.

Freedom
…
It wasn’t a word, it was a plea, a soul-deep hunger that shook her to her core.

With one hand clutched to her head, she stumbled toward the closed double doors that led from the training room. Her vision was dim and unfocused as brilliant shards of light exploded behind her eyelids. Shaking her head, she gripped the metal handle, pushing at the heavy panel as she fought the whimper that built in her throat.

Freedom… The scream echoed in her head as her stomach clenched with pain. God, had she ever known such pain? It rose unbidden, whipping through her mind, building in strength as she forced herself into the hallway.

“Whoa! Megan. Sweetheart. Is that you?”

Megan jerked back, nearly falling in her desperation to escape as she fought to focus her gaze on what she knew was the enemy. No, another enemy. She shook her head, fighting to separate herself from the confusing impressions beating at her.

But no enemy faced her. Frowning down at her was her father’s best friend, former Congressman Mac Cooley. His pale blue eyes were filled with compassion, concern. She shook her head, fighting to clear it, confused by the evil she had felt in his touch.

“Mr. Cooley.” She cleared her throat, fighting for a semblance of normalcy “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well.”

She could sense the pain growing stronger. The agony it caused was tearing through her head, ripping her apart.

“You’re very pale, Megan. Let me help you to the medic’s station.” He moved to touch her once again.

“No.” She shook her head fiercely. “I’ll be fine, really.”

She breathed in deep, pasting a smile on her face as she stared into his pale blue eyes.

Ice. They were cold, bitter chips of frozen malice.

She blinked and it was gone. She saw only concern, only compassion.

“Congressman Cooley? Your helicopter is waiting.” Her head swung around.

There were four others with him. Young people. Or were they old? Definitely bodyguards: she knew the look. She glanced into the eyes of the one who spoke, a pleasant young man with quiet features and dead eyes.

Rage ate into her stomach, boiling inside it, threatening to spew from her it was so sickening, so painful. Was it his rage? Or another’s? Where was it coming from? Her gaze touched on each of the five as she fought to pinpoint the origin of the emotion.

But there was no origin. As always, she couldn’t follow the path reaching out to her; she knew only the pain.

“One moment.” Did Mac’s voice harden? Did she hear the promise of retaliation in it? She couldn’t have. Mac was one of the kindest people she knew.

“I’m fine, Mr. Cooley.” She straightened despite the cold sweat that covered her; the icy stare that seared her.

“I’ve been trying to finish early. I guess I pushed too hard tonight.”

“I would say you have.” His voice was filled with disapproval. “I’ll call your father tomorrow and have him check on you…”

“No.” She winced at the fear in her voice. Her parents would only worry, and would realize she had been lying about her ability to handle the strength of the emerging talents. “I promise I’m fine. Dad will just worry. You know how he and Mom are. I’ll see the medic in the morning, I promise.” She would have promised anything at that point.

“Very well.” He, finally sighed in resignation. “But I will be calling the medic for sure. Make sure you check in with him.”

She nodded gratefully. “I promise.” She drew in a long deep breath as she gave Mac a wry smile. “I’m just exhausted. I’m going to go on to my room now.”

“Of course.” He nodded, his eyes watching her warmly. “I’ll watch you down the hall to make certain you have no further problems. Be careful, Megan.”

She nodded before turning to walk away.

Remember me… She almost stopped at the demand that ripped through her head. Another’s thought, a split-second demand that she wasn’t even certain she had felt.

She bit her lip, confident that it would be gone soon. It was already dissipating, the last lingering sensation of sadness, of grief, before it was gone.

As she rounded the hallway, she stopped in shock.

She had been certain that one small event in her life meant nothing. A moment in time. A coincidence. Until the dream shifted and she looked up and saw the bullet-ridden SUV in the gully and the young man at the wheel. The pictures from the computer flashed before her mind then.

Mark and Aimee. The same couple she had seen with Senator Cooley.

“Megan, God dammit, I said wake up.”

Megan came awake with a gasp, shaking in Braden’s grip as she realized she was standing in the middle of her bedroom floor, naked, shuddering with cold as she stared up at him in shock.

She breathed in harshly, great, gulping breaths, as though she were starved for oxygen. Her head bounced on her shoulders.

“Stop.” She tried to raise her hands, pressing against his abdomen rather than his chest as the shaking stopped and she stared back at him in shock. “What are you doing?”

“What the hell were you doing?” He snarled down at her fiercely. “You get out of the bed muttering about training and exhaustion only to start jerking as though someone were stealing your breath. I barely caught you before you fell to the floor.”

She shook her head, trying to remember. She had to remember the dream. She bit her lip as he dragged her back to the bed and wrapped the quilt around her shuddering body.

“What the hell were you dreaming about, Megan?”

Dreams. No, not a dream, a memory. She frowned as disjointed images flipped through her mind.

“I don’t know.” She shook her head, putting her hand to her forehead as the images tried to solidify. Faces. Closed. Eyes. Dead eyes. Without hope. Without freedom.

Remember me.

She flinched as the voice resonated through her head. The sensation, an animal’s pain, a young woman’s scream.

She raised her eyes to Braden, seeing the concern in his gaze as he hunched before her, his hands rubbing at her arms as she blinked in shock.

“I’ve seen them.” She stared back at him in horror. “Oh my God, Braden. I have seen them.” She stumbled to her feet, batting away his hands as she tripped on the blanket and fell against him.

“Megan, calm down.” His harsh order, the whiplash of his voice had her stilling, but her mind was still in chaos.

“Let me go.” She shook her head fiercely. “I have to dress. I have to see those pictures again. The ones you showed me before.”

“Mark and Aimee?” His tone was sharper now.

She nodded jerkily, her mind racing as she fought to pull together the dream. Most of it was still fuzzy, but she remembered faces.