OmegaMine (14 page)

The distraction was the reason he didn’t immediately scent
the dangerous fragrances of silver and death the moment he opened the glass
door to the building. One moment, he and Ava were alone. The next, Shepherds
surrounded them, five of them total. Their weapons gleamed brightly in the
streetlights as they lifted them into the air. The long, polished steel barrels
displayed the etched bible reference: John 10:9.

I am the door. By me, if any man enter in, he shall be
saved
.

There was only one reason the men in brown dusters and
matching Stetsons didn’t fire, and it had nothing to do with bringing
unnecessary attention. They didn’t want to hit any of the random passersby who
froze in alarm and watched silently.

“You know why we’re here.” The largest one addressed Diskant
and leveled his obsidian firearm, his arm, hand and trigger finger nice and
steady. “Where is he?”

Diskant shoved Ava behind him and placed his larger frame
between her and the gun. She wrapped her arm around his stomach and pressed her
chest into his back, remaining close.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me, Omega,” the man cautioned, shadowed jaw
clenching. “We know Emory Veznor is finally here. Your pack won’t be able to
hide him forever.”

Emory Veznor.

Shit
.

Years of practice allowed his face to remain expressionless,
giving nothing away as he processed what he knew. Trey was with Emory, who had
shown up earlier in the morning after a lengthy and acrimonious absence. He
didn’t know the details but could garner a pretty decent guess as to the reason
for his unexpected return.

“I don’t know where Emory is,” Diskant answered. Shepherds
were good at three things—tracking, destroying what they viewed as unclean and
detecting lies.

“Then call to him.”

“I can’t.”

The Shepherd obviously didn’t like the answer. “Explain.”

“Emory severed all ties with the packs in this area before
he left. His wolf is no longer mine to call.”

“Then call to his brother—” The Shepherd stopped
midsentence, stepped back and slid the gun into a holster beneath his duster as
the others did the same. Their focus drifted from Diskant to the vehicles
approaching from the east. The big red and blue lights affixed to the roof were
dull and silent but all it would take was a decent scuffle and they’d be
blazing in all their glory.

Thank fucking god for the neighborhood watch.

“Come on.” Diskant grasped the trembling hand at his waist
and started for the bike.

“We won’t be leaving until we have him,” the Shepherd called
out but Diskant didn’t respond.

He placed the duffel in front of him, helped Ava climb to
the back of the bike and bent to retrieve the half-shell helmets inside the
saddlebags. Normally he didn’t bother with them but since Joe Law was helping
them out, he’d play the part of law-abiding citizen.

He placed the first on Ava and adjusted the straps before
taking care of his own. The police vehicle was getting closer and the Shepherds
were standing idly on the sidewalk, watching his every move. If he wanted to
put any kind of distance between them he needed to make sure he and Ava were
long gone before the police left the vicinity and they were able to return to
their mode of transportation and follow.

After he straddled the bike, Ava pressed against him again
until her pelvis was flush against his ass. Her body was still shaking, her
breathing shallow and uneven.

“What are those men?” she whispered and tightened her hold,
burrowing into his back.

He didn’t answer until he started the bike, wanting the loud
thrumming of the motor to drown out his voice. He lifted the kickstand with his
heel, turned his head and asked, “Do you know what Shepherds are?”

“N-no,” she stammered, and he realized that her body must be
burning on one hell of an adrenaline high.

“They hunt our kind.” He kept his right leg on the ground
until the bike stabilized as he slowly increased the speed and they drifted
onto the street. “When they come around, it’s not a good sign.”

“What do they want?” The heady scent of fear that emitted
from her was blessedly carried away as he turned off the street and gave the
throttle a generous turn.

“I don’t know,” he answered as he set the engine loose. The
wind caressed his face, wrapped around his shoulders and effectively ended the
conversation.

But by god, he was going to find out.

Chapter Ten

Diskant stopped the bike in front of a building in West
Village. The large window below the vintage Dougan’s Bar sign revealed
everything just inside. There was a large bar with stools and a few tables were
lined up just along the glass. Even from where she sat, Ava knew the patrons
were shifters. Their movements were too powerful, their eyes—which turned the
moment Diskant pulled to the curb to study them—too alert.

The motor went silent and she took a deep breath, struggling
for control. The last hours had been the most bizarre of her life. She couldn’t
decide if she should be frightened or angry at being bossed around and accosted
by men with guns. Not when her body continued to crave a solid fucking, as if
she truly were no more than a dog in heat.

She grimaced at the comparison but accepted the truth.

With Diskant, everything was primal and raw—her feelings,
her reactions, her desires. It was as if she were evolving in some way,
becoming someone or something else. Never had chemistry played such a role in
her decisions. If she was being honest with herself, she knew that nothing she
had done in the last twenty-four hours qualified as rational. Something else
was calling the shots, setting the pace, liberating her from a timid mousy
novice to a fearless tigress.

The terror she’d felt as she stared down the barrel of the
weapon had changed the moment Diskant put her behind him, shielding her from
harm. She’d reacted instinctively, reaching out with her mind, seeking the
barest essentials from the armed men who looked like they’d jumped straight out
of a cheesy Western. They’d been angry, searching for someone who had wronged
their congregation, although it had been impossible to take the proper time to
explore the path of their thoughts any further.

Seconds established which was the leader of the group—Elijah,
the tallest one, who addressed them—and she’d immediately formulated a plan to
have him lower his weapon and instruct the others to do the same. It would have
been dangerous and was sure to have been tricky. The others could have
questioned his orders, and if they had, there would have been no way she could
have manipulated the thoughts of all of them. Adding to that had been the armed
entourage that Elijah had silently signaled from across the street, their
insurance plan if things went to hell in a handbasket.

Thankfully, her talent hadn’t been necessary. Her street was
safe due to the patrol that combed the area hourly. For once she was grateful
she paid a little bit extra and lived in Brooklyn Heights. When she’d seen the
police car, she’d wanted to sag in relief and demand the city give them a raise
for the service they provided.

Her only regret in the aftermath was allowing her alarm to
shadow a greater need—to learn exactly what it was they wanted. Although now
she was fairly certain she was due to find out.

Diskant shifted his weight and rocked the bike to the side
to engage the kickstand, and she let go of his waist. A laughable amount of
propriety saw her climbing off the seat without his assistance. She removed the
helmet and ruffled her hair, unwilling to meet his eyes as she felt the stares
of the shifter patrons inside the bar boring holes into her back.

What must they think? She wasn’t one of them and yet she was
riding on the back of the motorcycle owned by their Omega. The shifters at Club
Liminality were always cordial but never overly friendly. There was an
invisible line that always existed, an understanding that either you belonged
among them or you didn’t. Maybe there was a reason for that. Perhaps the
incident at the bar with the newly bloodbonded couple was an indication of what
happened when you decided to mate outside the species.

For a moment she visualized the woman cradled in the
shifter’s arms that night at Liminality months ago. Her dark hair was slick
with sweat, and her skin-tight cream-colored camisole was soaked with blood.
The look in her eyes was dazed, her lips almost purple. Her skin had been so
pale she looked near to death.

When Diskant extended a hand to take the helmet from her
quaking hands, she wasn’t prepared when his fingers circled her wrist instead.
She lifted her head and glimpsed the wounded look in his eyes, saw the hurt in
his face.

“Don’t be afraid of me.” His voice was hoarse, the words
raspy. “Don’t be afraid of
us
.”

The fear and uncertainty suffocating her was replaced by the
need to reassure and comfort. Like a switch had been flicked, exorcising the
darkness that shadowed her thoughts, there was nothing else in that moment but
her and Diskant. The spectators vanished, as did the vehicles and pedestrians
on the sidewalk.

“I’m not,” she answered, slightly stunned that she was
telling him the truth. She wasn’t afraid of him. Her uncertainty arose from the
unknown, from entering into something that left her blind and unaware.

“I didn’t want it to happen like this.” He smiled when she
peered up at him curiously. Wrapping a hand around her nape, he explained,
“When I woke up this morning I wanted to shower you with affection for the rest
of the day. I had it all planned. Breakfast in bed followed by a round or two
of sex and as much time as you needed to talk things through.”

The mere mentions of “bedroom” and “sex” caused her body to
go warm. She’d started to say something when he yanked her into his chest and
his mouth covered hers. His taste was intoxicating, so rich and unforgettable.
She ran her hand along his jacket before sliding it under the leather until her
palm rested on the firm pectoral muscle covered by thin black cotton.

She’d never truly thought about just how fortunate inanimate
objects were until that moment. First it was the fork. Now it was a thin
T-shirt.

He ripped his lips away, snagged her duffel, took her hand
and pulled her toward the bar. He didn’t stop to explain and she didn’t argue.
They entered and the people in their path moved aside as if they were already
well aware of the score. Diskant led them down a hall and entered an empty
office. As soon as they were inside he closed the door, tossed her bag to the
ground and turned a lock. She mirrored him, plopping the helmet beside the
duffel.

There were no words. One moment she was standing beside him,
shivering in anticipation. The next she was bent over the desk, her shoes,
jeans and panties gone, leaving her lower half naked and entirely vulnerable to
the two-hundred-plus pounds of sexed male directly behind her.

Somewhere in the back of her mind her all-but-forgotten
modesty reminded her that there were people outside in the bar, all of whom
were probably aware of what she was doing. Strangely enough, she told that part
of herself to zip it and leave well enough alone. Finally she was going to ease
the unrelenting madness. She wanted to feel the heat of his skin against her,
the firm, unrelenting length and width of his cock inside her.

“You’re so beautiful.” He pressed his chest into her back,
forcing her to lie flat on the desk.

She remained there when he rose and she felt his hands cup
her ass, his fingers curving over and carving a path along her skin, leaving
tendrils of electricity in their wake. A quick swipe of the tip of his cock
along the lips of her sex and he was pressing inside, that hard ridge of velvet
steel spreading and filling her until she rose on her toes to take him deeper.
Like this, she felt as if they were truly connected, in a way she’d never been
before.

Diskant groaned and rolled his hips. “Damn, you feel good.”

Gripping the edge of the desk, she pushed back as he moved
forward until all she could hear was the steady slap of skin meeting skin. The
softness of his sac slapped her clit, creating new, dizzying waves of pleasure.
She shifted slightly to the left and felt him stroke the spot inside that made
her crazy, the wide length pressing against her until she welcomed the intense
burning in her belly that signified ecstasy was close.

The room spun as he pulled free and turned her around. She
wrapped her arms around his neck when he cupped her hips and lifted her until
her legs were situated snugly around his waist. A smooth thrust joined them
once more and he carried her to the nearest wall. His hand came down and
plucked her clit, his index finger and thumb heightening her ecstasy with
exquisite, expert touches.

“You like that?” His expression was one of passion as his
thrusts continued, and his voice was distorted and thick.

“Yes,” she whispered and watched the muscles rope and cord
in his neck as he supported her weight, adjusting her so that he went deeper
and deeper.

A firm yank sent her into his chest and she lapped at the
visible skin along his shoulder before pulling at the leather jacket to reveal
more tanned flesh. She teased the surface with tiny nips of her teeth. An
encompassing heat spread through her from belly to pussy. The impulse to bite
and mark him as her own was too powerful to ignore and she chose the fleshy
spot that connected the neck and shoulder. She bathed the area with her tongue,
cleansing his skin, and pulled her lips back as her teeth sank deep.

His hoarse, elated cry as she bit down was accompanied by a
metallic bitterness on her tongue. She bit harder in response, forcing her dull
incisors and canines into the giving flesh, driven by the taste of blood and
the smells of sweat and sex. An unrecognizable growl rose in her throat, as if
she contained an animal of her own beneath her skin. She rotated her hips,
pressing against him until he was lodged so deeply inside that he felt as if he
was a part of her.