Taken by Fire (14 page)

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“Don’t thank me. I didn’t do it for you. I did it for Dev. Hurry up.”

She tried, but her fingers shook so badly that she couldn’t unbutton her jeans. Finally, with yet another curse, he tore them open and turned away while she went. Between him and the cuffs, the whole thing was awkward and embarrassing, but she finished, stood, and once more needed his help.

“Jesus Christ.” He reached for the buttons on her jeans. “You can freeze men so solidly they break into ice cubes, but you can’t dress yourself.”

Something inside her snapped, and she knocked his hands away. “Never mind. I don’t want your help. If I have to go to the bathroom again, don’t bother
helping
. I’ll deal with Ender. At least with him, the hatred is consistent.” She tried to shoulder him aside so she could get out of the tiny space that seemed to grow more cramped the longer she was in it, but he snared her wrists and pushed her against the shower door.

“You aren’t going to get anyone else to help you.” Stryker’s broad shoulders filled her vision, and she did her best not to notice how his T-shirt stretched like a second skin over his taut muscles. “And you’re definitely not going out there with unbuttoned pants.”

“Oh, right. Because you can’t have anyone thinking you tried to get in them.” She struggled to get out of his grip, but his fingers only tightened more. “Do they know? Do they have any idea that you fucked me already? Maybe I’ll tell them, just so I can see the look of disgust on their faces.”

Fury lit his eyes, making the blues and greens swirl inside the crystal globes. “You do that, and I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” she spat. “Beat me? You can’t even come close to what my own father did to me. Kill me? Big deal. It’s
going to happen anyway. How stupid do you think I am? Once you and your people are done with me, after you’ve wrung every drop of usable knowledge out of me, I’m dead. So stop with the threats.”

His jaw worked, and she could hear the sound of him grinding his molars even over the hum of the jet engine.

“What’s the matter,” she taunted. “Can’t find the words to convince me that you aren’t going to kill me? As an ACRO agent, surely you’ve been trained to lie.”

“Stop it,” he ground out.

“Stop what?” Pent-up frustration put a sharp edge on her reply. “Stop being realistic? After I finally figured out that all my hopes for any kind of normal,
long
life were nothing but a silly fantasy?”

He lunged, his pelvis rocking into her, and she sucked in a sharp breath at the erection nudging her belly. Between her legs, she went instantly wet, as though her body was connected to his and knew exactly what they both wanted.

The space got smaller as he rolled his hips against her. “Stop
that.
”

His breath hung like mist in the air. At some point, she’d engaged her power, and the bathroom had become a freezer. Just as she wondered if the rest of the aircraft had been affected, she got her answer.

“Stryker!”
Ender’s enraged bellow vibrated the walls, but Stryker didn’t seem to notice.

Instead of responding, his mouth came down on hers.

S
tryker was vaguely aware that Ender and Wyatt were in the background cursing, but he was more aware that his cock was rock hard and looking for a home inside of her like a heat-seeking missile set to strike.

He’d stopped before—he would not stop now. Not even if Ender and Wyatt tried to drag him off her, which he knew they
wouldn’t try. Once his elemental side was triggered, he was too dangerous to piss off further.

His tongue dueled with hers in a kiss that stole his breath and he didn’t care.

He moved like lightning, because the need was too great, his body demanding satisfaction, his eyesight blurring. He slid the keys out of his pocket and leaned down, unhooking one ankle cuff. While he was down there, he yanked at her jeans, taking them down and off one leg.

When he stood again he unbuttoned and unzipped his own cargo BDUs and let them fall to his ankles. He didn’t uncuff her hands, just slid his head between her arms and her hands sought quarter on his shoulders.

She didn’t protest. His mouth sought hers again, his tongue slid inside in a blatant imitation of what he was about to do to her.

Hands on her ass, he hoisted her so her back was to the wall, her legs wrapped to his waist. His cock against her wet sex. And then he impaled her, driving in hard and fast.

It was only then he paused, the feeling of her hot flesh tight around him like a fist. “So hot, Mel. How are you so goddamned hot?”

Her eyes were wide from his penetration. “You,” she managed to moan, and that’s when he began to move again, his mouth capturing hers as he did so and everything else be damned.

He’d been holding back for too long.

He wanted more—his mouth on her breasts, his face buried between her legs to taste the sweet juice until she screamed, but that would have to wait. This was about instant gratification and it was still taking too damned long.

She gasped his name against his mouth, and yes, that’s what he wanted. Wasn’t sure where the hell this need to claim her came from, the need to protect her, but it was alternately turning him on and pissing him off.

And pissed-off sex was just as good as happy sex. Better, even, if the way she was meeting his thrusts was any indication.

She wanted to hate him as much as he wanted to hate her. And somehow, neither of them could get there.

It made it that much goddamned hotter, especially when her nails scored his back as he thrust deeply. She asked him to do that again, harder, and he could almost ignore the fact that the plane banked hard to starboard.

Of course, they banked along with it, but they didn’t stop the motion. He ended up wedged into the corner with her half on top of him. All that mattered to him was that he was still inside of her.

“Fuck me, Mel,” he told her, moved her hips up and down.

“Are you … doing … this?”

“I’m … doing … you.”

“The plane … something’s happening …” she managed, but then she was kissing him again and she was contracting around him, forcing his orgasm to shoot in a brilliant blend of color behind his eyelids.

The plane bounced wildly right along with his release, began to settle and straighten as he began to see clearly again too, and yes, it had been him doing something to fuck with the plane.

Best they untangle and face the music.

Mel’s breath was warm against his cheek, her body bonelessly wrapped around his. She raised her head from where it had been against his shoulder, her eyes glazed.

“Hey, are you all right?” he asked.

“More than,” she told him. She was rubbing his neck, massaging the muscles with her fingers, the clinking of the metal a reminder of who she was. Where they were.

What would Akbar say about all this?

At the thought of his name, Stryker sagged. It welled up inside of him, the anger that always threatened to boil over—that frequently did—changing to a pain so great he wondered if it would ever go away. “He’s gone. Akbar. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” she said softly, tears welled in her eyes.

And it wasn’t hers either.

“Your friend. I’m so sorry … you have to believe me … I’m so sorry …” she murmured as he struggled to breathe, to hold it together.

It wasn’t going to happen.

Mel simply pulled him close, held him while he completely lost it, his head buried against her, his cock still inside her, and he mourned his friend with the woman who …

The woman he needed to save.

They stayed in the bathroom for a long time. Stryker held Mel like she was a lifeline, and though she was confused as hell, she didn’t complain. No one had ever held her like that, and she wanted to hang on for as long as possible. For a few precious minutes, she could feel what it was like to be normal. Cared for.

Which was silly. Stryker didn’t care for her. He’d been horny, and the plane had been …

“Stryker? What was wrong with the plane? Was it your power?”

His heavy sigh shook his entire body. “Yeah. It’s never affected anything but the earth before.”

“Then why now?”

He shrugged. “Emotion. The fact that you used your ability so close to the sex.” Gently, he extracted himself from her, lifting her arms from where they rested on his shoulders. “I think your elemental power affected mine. Since you turned the plane into a big ice cube, my power was able to hitchhike onto it.”

She swallowed. “We’re dangerous together.”

His laughter was bitter as he tugged up his pants. “Yeah.” He reached for her jeans to help her, but froze. “Fuck. You’re recharged now.”

“I’ll be careful. I promise.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” He checked his watch. “How long until we can expect to see Phoebe?”

“Anytime. She’s been suppressed for a while, and she’s not going to wait much longer. The plane jiggling probably kept her at bay, but …” She shook her head. “I can feel her stirring.”

“Dammit.” He shoved open the door. “I have the Itor meds, but I don’t want to waste them if we don’t have to. The guys will have a plan in place.”

Oh, God. This was going to be embarrassing. And sure enough, when they stepped out of the bathroom, it was obvious that they all knew exactly what had happened in that tiny space.

Stryker didn’t give them time to say anything, though it was clear that Ender wanted to. The rage in his eyes was like lightning, flashing over and over.

“What’s the plan for containing Phoebe?” Stryker asked, as he settled her into her seat and fastened the chains.

“Why?” Wyatt stood. “Is she Phoebe?”

Stryker shook his head. “Not yet. But she could show at any moment, and trust me, if we don’t have her secured and gagged, she’ll either kill us or we’ll kill her.”

“Dev has pretty much everyone who can counter fire and ice on standby to be there when we land. They’re also putting together some sort of fireproof thing to wrap her in, and preparing a chamber she can’t melt.”

“What about for now?” she asked.

Wyatt smiled grimly. “That’s why I’m here. I can affect your heart rate, breathing … basically, put you to sleep once I get inside you.”

Ender snorted. “Stryker has already done that.”

“Would you rather have had the plane crash?” Stryker’s voice was low, rough, and Mel had a feeling he was trying to keep from launching at the other man.

“I’d rather not have to think about you fucking the woman who murdered Akbar.”

“Then don’t.” Stryker’s fingers were gentle as he put the last chain fastener in place. “Because Mel didn’t kill him.”

Ender rolled his eyes. “You buying this bullshit, Wyatt?”

Mel expected Wyatt to say no, so she was shocked when he hesitated and then said, “I don’t know. Look at Rik. Or Chance. They both have completely different species of animals living inside them. Totally unique beings. If it can happen with them, I don’t know why it can’t happen with Melanie and Phoebe.”

Ender reached into a cupboard near his seat and grabbed a pack of peanuts. Mel’s stomach, which had been simmering on low growl, began to make a serious protest.

“Um … could I have some?” She wasn’t shy about asking for food.

Ender stared at her like she’d asked for a million dollars instead of a handful of nuts. “No.”

“Give her the fucking peanuts,” Stryker said, irritation putting an edge in his voice.

“It could be a trick. She could be allergic and trying to kill herself.”

“I’m not allergic.” She inhaled, catching a tantalizing whiff of the salty snacks, and her belly let out an embarrassingly loud rumble. “I’m hungry.”

Slamming the packet on his little table, Ender shoved to his feet. “I’ll get you water.”

Water was not going to cut it. She needed food, and anxiety that they weren’t going to give her any made her skin tighten. Without thinking, she lunged, grabbed the packet of peanuts, and dumped them into her mouth.

Ender moved like a snake, ripping the bag out of her hands, but not before she got a mouthful. “You damned thief.”

Stryker studied her, his tawny brows arched high on his forehead as she chewed in blissful silence. “Okay, what
is
it with you and food?”

She swallowed and looked longingly at the cupboard where Ender had gotten the peanuts. “Can I have more?”

“Not until you tell me what’s up with you.” Stryker wasn’t being cruel—logically, she knew that. But the part of her that freaked out at the idea of having food withheld took him seriously. And while physical beatings had never broken her, the threat of going hungry made her crack like an egg.

“Ever been starved?” she asked quietly. “I mean, like, you didn’t eat for years?”

“That’s impossible,” Ender scoffed. “You’d die.”

“Not if Phoebe is the one eating.”

Stryker leaned forward in his seat, bracing his forearms on his knees. “So Itor—your own fucking father—didn’t feed you? For years?”

She nodded. “I was around nine, I guess. I think it started as an experiment, and then became a way to control me. For eight years, they didn’t let me have anything to eat. Only Phoebe got food.”