Tempting the Enemy (24 page)

Dee Tenorio

207

“As if I would.” She sighed, remembering the feel of him behind her well enough to throb. “Not until you give in anyway.”

His brows rose. “Are you like this because you’re out of juice or are you just like this under all that Sibile crap?”

She would have said something—she thought—but she realized they were being watched. Turning her head, she found the spy with ease. Near the parking lot light, next to the mouth of the alley, the white Wolf crouched.

“Shit,” Pale growled, following her line of sight.

“How much do you think he saw?” Her question didn’t matter and he didn’t answer her. The car lurched backward, then screeched forward and curved out of the lot into the street traffic, leaving the bloodied Wolf behind.

Jade stared down at the fabric draping her. Vividly red, even in the dark—Mitch Kroft would have been able to see it. He didn’t have to see her use her gifts; she was already exposed. Cold fear swamped her—memories of agony and screams flashed through her mind like an icy spear for a split second—pushing out the warm pleasantness she’d had talking to Pale. Someone outside the squad now knew there was a Sibile on the Woodsman case. Someone knew, someone who couldn’t be trusted. It was only a matter of time before it was public knowledge.

She’d just become a target.

And she had to tell Pale why. Tell him what she knew they were facing. That she wasn’t sure they could survive.

“Sleep, Jade.” Pale’s heavy hand found hers under the folds of her robe. “I’ll protect you.”

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She turned to the man at her side. The order was autocratic, yes, but she believed his promise all the way to her soul. She nodded. She needed to rest. This could be the only time left. She closed her eyes and took him at his word.

Jade awoke to the smell of bacon sizzling. She blinked lazily, trying to take in her surroundings. Warmth all around her. A thick dark blue duvet with matching pillows beneath her head. Better yet, a delectable masculine scent filled her senses from all around.

Pale.

The rumble in her chest matched the instinctive pleasure of recognizing him. This wasn’t another hotel room. It was his private space. His
bed
. She buried her face in the pillow next to her, wrapping her arms around it and hugging it close before she even fully woke. It wasn’t him, but he’d been there. Recently. Had he been next to her while she slept? The blanket and sheet, still tucked in on that side, said he hadn’t, but the pillow didn’t lie. He’d been there, close enough to make her feel secure, and probably to satisfy himself that she wasn’t hurt. The man could kill her with his gentleness.

What about when he wasn’t so gentle?

The thought woke her fully. Her body, already thrumming, began to heat again. Arousal like a living thing uncurled inside her, stretching to fill her from tip to toes. She closed her eyes again and breathed in deep, reveling a second longer in sensation. Just one, then she’d have to get up and find him. Tell him what she’d seen.

What the ghosts had told her about their killer. With that heavy weight in her mind, the softness of his bed beneath Dee Tenorio

209

her was nearly impossible to leave. Even if she hated him, she’d still want to linger in it.

Tinkling noises of plates floated through the half-open pocket doors beyond the bed. If she were smart, she’d get up now, but just this once, she didn’t want to be smart. She felt safe. Cherished. Protected. All new things for her. In the Order, she was barely tolerated. The cog in the machine that never fit. The Abomination. Around Pale, the fit was so perfect she wondered if she struggled against it out of habit.

Reality peeped its head and she admitted she might be romanticizing things a little. Pale expected to control.

She needed to make her own choices. They struggled back and forth to lead in their strange little dance. But struggling didn’t lessen the rightness. Even when she lost, she didn’t mind much. Pale wouldn’t hurt her for any perceived failings. He wouldn’t cast her out or kill her over them, either. How she knew, she wasn’t sure. More of the Instinct, she supposed. She just knew if she hurt him, he wouldn’t hurt her back. And hurting him would only hurt herself.

She peered around, sobering somewhat, partially to get her bearings. The rest pure curiosity about the man her body—and okay, yes, her heart—craved so deeply.

Bathroom over to the right, a dark blue towel hanging from a hook on the front of the door. Cool gray paint on the walls she could see. The others were blocked by heavy wood bookcases. Three, each one full of all kinds of reading material—paperbacks, hard covers, magazines. No particular order, the fiction standing next to the nonfiction in equal amounts. Either Pale Rysen was a serious reader or he had a lot of time to kill.

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Tempting the Enemy

He padded barefoot on the wood floor leading to the doors, balancing a tray in front of him. Two things stood out right away. One, he’d showered, because his hair was still damp and he was back in a well-worn set of jeans and an aged white T-shirt. The other was that he’d shaved.

She’d expected handsome. His devastating appeal stuttered her breathing almost to a stop.

He wasn’t beautiful beneath it, certainly not the way Sibile beauty was perceived. Pale was too hard-boned, too dark and raw for beauty. But his strength, intensity, his sheer grace made the Heat already churning in her turn to a scald.

Without his beard to hide behind, his mouth was a full, blatantly sexual shape. “You’re awake, good. I was worried you’d be out for the whole day too.” He set the tray next to her before sitting in the empty space of the bed. The food—sliced ham, not bacon, scrambled eggs and juice—tempted her almost as much as the man. He lifted a forkful of fluffy yellow deliciousness and held it up to her lips. “Hungry? You’ve been out a long time.”

Day? She’d slept all night? Jade blinked, looking to the window to verify his words. Sunlight poured through the windows, bright and sure. Late morning, if she didn’t miss her guess. Nearly midday. Meaning she’d collapsed utterly. More than enough time for him to cook her a feast. She bit her lip, knowing if the Sisters ever found out she’d let a male feed her, they’d peel her skin from her body. But the dual temptation of his hopeful look and the smell of heaven was too much and she opened her mouth for him. The buttery flavor was almost good enough to satisfy the Heat.

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He looked far too happy as he pulled the tines from between her lips.

“Where are we?” She took the fork from his hand—

all right, he
let
her take it—and rolled onto her side to eat in earnest.

“My house.”

As she’d thought. “Won’t we be easy to find here?”

Too soon, the eggs were gone, but the mouthwatering flavor of the ham made up for it.

He shook his head slowly. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was enjoying just watching her. Until his hand moved to snitch a piece of the ham. He chuckled when she growled and smacked his knuckle with the back of her fork. “I keep this place off all records. The department thinks I rent an apartment closer to the station.”

“Why didn’t you bring us here night before last?

Why bother with the hotel?”

“I didn’t trust you then.”

She warmed at the implication that he trusted her now. Apparently unconsciousness had its benefits.

Smiling, willing to reward him with the last piece of meat, she moved to sit up completely. As she shifted, a lock of hair fell into her face, freezing her in place.

He stilled, his gaze checking all her visible parts for signs of distress. “What’s the matter?”

She stared at him, reaching for her wild tresses. He’d unbound them completely from the knot and braids, creating riots streaming down her back and onto the pillows. “My hair.”

“I couldn’t lay you down with that bowl-thing bending your neck.” He lifted his chin to indicate her
flos
on a dresser next to the bathroom door. “And before you 212

Tempting the Enemy

get pissy, I took your clothes off for a reason. They had blood all over them.” He’d washed her too, her skin completely unmarred by any stains or dirt. Not even her fingernails.

Manners dictated she offer thanks. But something she couldn’t tamp down demanded his apology. “You didn’t have to undo the braids.”

His unwavering gaze remained equally unrepentant.

“It takes three people to braid it.” And a migraine to handle the tension of the plaits. Part of her enjoyed the current freedom, but being free was not part of being a Sibile. “You take too many liberties, Detective.” If he took them in front of the wrong person, he could get hurt.

Or worse.

“Detective?” He raised a brow, picking up the juice and offering it to her. “You were calling me Pale last night.”

She took the drink, if only to put off responding.

When she quit drinking, he took the glass, still waiting for his answer.

“Apologies,” she grumbled. Her skin itched at being scolded by him of all people, but she couldn’t blame him for the corner she’d painted herself into. Wanting him and wanting to hit him were not feelings she enjoyed having at the same time.

He must not have liked the grudging tone she used because he put the juice down on the tray hard enough to slosh the remnants over the rim. “Keep your apologies.”

She could only stare as he pushed the tray her way again and rolled off the bed in a furious expression of coiled energy. He was to the doors before she realized he was leaving.

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“Wait!”

His spine remained rigid, but he stopped.

Weakness was not allowed in the Order, or in the Sibile as a whole, but she felt lost suddenly. Out of her depth and unclear. She especially didn’t want him to leave. Not any part of her. Not like this. She forced herself to admit her lack of understanding. “Did I do something wrong?”

She hated how small her voice sounded. Submissive.

But she couldn’t let him storm away. Couldn’t repay his kindnesses with anger.

He sighed, a long rush of breath that didn’t make her feel any better. His hands came up to settle on his hips.

Was he gathering patience? She guessed so when he said,

“You can’t keep toying with me, Jade.”

“Apologizing is toying with you?” That made no appreciable sense.

He turned, openly angry now. His eyes narrowed, face drawn into a deep frown. “You’re in my bed.

Covered in my scent but still not imprinted. I spilled blood for you. Damn near ripped out throats for you, and you can’t even bring yourself to use my fucking
name?
”

She looked around again, finally comprehending the magnitude of what he’d done. He’d kept himself from taking her when they first met, against both their instincts.

Protected her, fought for her, then brought her to his most private place. He’d even cleaned up to present himself at his best. He made so many efforts for her and she’d just thrown them back in his face without realizing it.

She folded her hands in her lap, remembered how much he hated her “prissy” pose and dropped them to her sides. “What would a real Wolf female be doing?”

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“You
are
a real Wolf.” His frown softened from a black cloud to the strain of frustration.

She wanted to tell him he wasn’t the only one struggling. Not the only one who craved against all the logic he lived his life by. But that was too close to begging and she couldn’t do it.

The longer he stood there, unmoving, the more it felt like rejection. Like failure.

Her muscles nearly vibrated with the urge to leap up and pull him to her, knowing with that vague instinct he inspired that he wouldn’t be able to resist, but her Sibile pride—maybe even her Wolf pride—held her in place.

Luring him with sex would only make him trust her less.

He knew she wanted him. That wasn’t what he was waiting for. He was waiting for some kind of sign, but what? She had nothing to give him. No promise she could make.

“I don’t know what you want, Pale.”

“Yes, you do.” If he decided she was no longer worth the effort, she didn’t know what she would do. Neither could she bring herself to subjugate herself further by pleading. She waited, each second stretching her tighter.

Please come to me. Don’t leave me this way.

He didn’t move.

“I’m not a Wolf,” she whispered, meeting his gaze.

“If you truly want me, you have to understand that.”

“Yes, you are,” he replied, still looking down at her.

“And if you ever want to be whole,
you
have to accept it.”

She stared at him, shocked. All her life, anything Wolf needed to be tamped down. Ignored or dismissed, crushing a part of her she’d never been allowed to fully recognize. The part of her that longed for freedom. Until Dee Tenorio

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him
. With each passing hour in his presence, that part was clawing past her guards, leaving her bindings in tattered shreds.

Finally, it became clear what he was trying to tell her. The message he was insisting she hear.

“I’ll never be able to go back to the way I was, will I?”

His head shake was slow. Implacable. “Wolves live by Instinct. Like the voice of the animal in our hearts. It’s kept us alive when everything else has disappeared.

Because we accept what we are and we give ourselves over to it.”

To Instinct. If she did, the force in her heart, in her gut, would never be silent again. She blinked, finally bowing her head, staring down at the folds in front of her.

The more she listened, the stronger it would grow, pushing against the control she needed to guide her abilities.

Or was that simply another lie the Sisters had used to control
her?

It was too strong a possibility to ignore. But that didn’t mean she could turn herself inside out to please him. She couldn’t do that again for anyone.

“Maybe you’re right. I do have to accept. But I have no idea what I am. There’s no magical voice in my head telling me the right thing to do. No idea how to give you what you want.”