Deep Kiss of Winter (35 page)

A few times she actually slammed into the thick trunks. She'd
humph,
shake her head, and jump back into motion. Once he clasped her jacket; rather than slowing her down, his grip merely ripped the torn material farther, revealing a shirt that was equally torn, as well as the planes and hollows of
his
back.

The second time he grabbed her, he encountered only hair. Hating himself, he yanked. She screamed, but continued to surge forward, leaving several strands in his fist.

“Stop,” he commanded, moving the knife he'd confiscated from her to his boot. When he caught her, and he would, he did not want her having access to it.

“Do you really have to think about my answer?”

“You're not going to escape me. You might as well give up before I'm forced to hurt you.”

“Says the man who's losing.” She maneuvered around another tree.

Several vehicles loomed ahead. Was anyone inside them? If so, and they hustled away with Macy, he could lose her for good. He knew it, didn't like it, and wouldn't allow it to happen. He was tiring from the day's excess of speed, but he ground his teeth and forced his arms and legs to work faster.

Air beat against him, chilled and biting. His blood ran hot, though, hotter than ever before. He could hear the woman's hoarse pants and imagined her breath floating over his naked chest, then dipping lower, until her mouth encircled his cock in damp heat. Oh, yes.

Arousal spread and gave him strength. Again he quickened his steps, his gaze raking over her body. Or rather,
his
body. Which was weird, but didn't cool his ardor. As if sensing the fervor of his stare, Macy flicked a wild glance behind her. Whatever she saw in his expression panicked her and in less than a blink, she was average height with short red hair and dark brown eyes. Aged skin, a little too tanned.

She slowed abruptly, as if losing her ability to sustain the swift pace right along with her grip of his image, and lost her balance. Down, she tumbled.
Breean was on top of her in the next instant, flipping her over and pinning her to a bed of leaves. Allowing his weight to settle atop her, he locked her arms over her head.

“You should have stopped,” he panted.

“Calm down, calm down,” she chanted, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. She dragged in a deep breath, released it, and was golden, muscled, and tall in seconds.

He scowled down at her. “Change back.”

“No.” Her eyelids popped open, and his own golden eyes glared up at him.

“Change!” No way would he kiss himself. And oh, yes, he was going to kiss her. Nothing could prevent him from doing so, not even the voice in his head demanding he be gentle with this woman.

“No!”

He ran his tongue over his teeth. If she possessed his appearance and his abilities, surely she possessed his vulnerabilities as well. Once, during a battle with a crowd of infected Rakan females, he'd been bitten in the side. The area had never healed properly and was a liability, for any type of contact would send him to his knees. Even now, there was a twinge beneath the scarred skin.

Knowing exactly where to touch, he reached under the torn shirt she wore and pinched. She screamed in pain.

“Change.”

“No,” she said, but it was a whimper this time.

He could not back down. He increased the
strength of his grip. “The agony will stop the moment you change.”

“Fine, okay, yes, but I have to calm down first. Okay? Calm, calm.” While she chanted, her eyelids closed again, and she pushed out a shaky breath. Her body slackened. Slowly, so slowly, her face began to rearrange itself, the length of her nose shortening, her lashes becoming longer, paler, her cheeks rounding. Her hair altered from golden to pale.

Disappointed, he shook his head. “I want to see the black-haired wench.”

She blinked up at him in horror. “W-what?”

“The black-haired wench with the green eyes. I want to see her.”

“How do you— No. Never mind,” she snarled, suddenly struggling to gain her freedom. One of her arms succeeded, and she drilled three quick jabs into his nose before he could stop her.

He howled as he snagged her wrist. The little witch. This was going to end. Now. “The time for pain is over, Macy. Now you're going to kiss me and make me better.”

C
alm down, calm down, calm down,
Aleaha sang in her mind. Hard thing to do, though. Nearly impossible.
A man was on top of her, pinning her down, and he somehow knew what
she
looked like. Not Macy. Not another identity. But Aleaha. How did he know which face truly belonged to her when she hadn't shown it to him? How?

And how could she like this position so much?
I am your master,
he had said, as if he owned her. Rather than enjoying his weight, she should be clawing his eyes out and feeding them to him, then later allowing herself a case of wine and a good cry.

A cry with dry heaves and a runny nose, because the fact that she enjoyed this man in any way scared her. Even the first time she'd accidentally become someone else—when an overweight, balding man had jerked little Aleaha into an abandoned warehouse, touching her in ways no man should touch a child, and she'd felt herself expand, lengthen, and transform, she hadn't been this scared.

That man had let her go; this man wouldn't release her until she'd given him what he wanted. She sensed it with everything inside her. That's just how warriors were, and he was every inch the warrior. She should know—she'd inhabited that hard body. But she couldn't relent. He was a killer and her enemy, and he wasn't frightened of AIR. Maybe because he'd defeated the agents so easily.

Guaranteed he wouldn't defeat Mia, who was probably on her way right now. Something she'd assured herself a thousand times already. So where the hell was the commander?

Didn't matter, really, she told herself now. In the
end, AIR would catch him. They always caught their targets. And when they caught this one, he would tell them what he'd seen her do, tell them what she truly looked like.

Oh. God. She would be ruined. Why wait until after scratching Breean's eyes to have her cry? AIR would then turn their sights on her. She would be on the run, hunted like an animal, just as she feared. And what if they found a way to prevent her from changing faces? She would never again be able to hide.

Would that be so bad?
her mind suddenly piped up.
You can't take over yet another person's life
.

She'd found a sense of contentment as Macy, yes, but the guilt she'd denied, well, it was easier to deny than to admit. In truth, she battled guilt every damn day. Hell, she lost more and more of
herself
every day, causing despair to blend with that guilt. She hated that she was living a life that had been cut short for someone else. Hated that she'd done nothing to earn the blessings bestowed upon her. Hated that her friend Bride, if she still lived, couldn't find her because she didn't have the courage to live as Aleaha.

Don't think about that now
.
Escape!

She bucked and strained under her captor's hold, unintentionally meshing their bodies and fusing heat, breasts against chest, thigh against thigh. Sweet heaven, it felt good, which increased her need for freedom. If he could make her crave him, despite her fear
and
dislike of him, he would destroy her life.

“Get off me!”

His eyes closed and his lips curled in a slow, satisfied
smile. “You're trying to push me off, yet you're also gripping my shoulders, holding on. Which do you really want, female? For me to get off? Or for me to get
you
off?”

Damn it, she
was
holding on. How long since she'd allowed herself such close contact? Such warm, delicious contact?
There you go again, becoming distracted, wanting what you can't have
. Scowling, she pried her fingers from him, all the while continuing to flail. “Off. I want you off.”

“Keep moving. Don't stop fighting.” His penis was hard and thick and every time she arched, it pressed deep between her legs. “I'll get off, I promise.”

If they'd been naked, he would have been inside her. And she would have liked it.

Okay. She was only making things worse—for both of them. She stilled, panting, and he moaned in disappointment. That strange honey fragrance wafted all around them, as if they lounged in a summer meadow of wild honeysuckle rather than a gloomy forest of ice.

She inhaled deeply to catch her breath, and her mind fuzzed just a bit. So good. Smelled so good. Why fight him when she could kiss him, as she'd craved earlier? She could delight in those muscles, enjoy every naughty inch of him.

Argh! “Just . . . let me go.” Clearly, she couldn't win physically. “Please. I've let you go. Do the same for me.”

His eyelids opened, revealing the golden glow of his irises. They were bright with hungry desire. A
reflection of hers? “You should not have run.” His voice was husky, rich. “The warrior in me liked it.”

Liked
was growled, layered with challenge and savagery.

For several seconds, her heart ceased beating. And when it finally kicked back into gear, her flailing and bucking renewed with more force, but did little to dislodge him. She didn't care that her actions rubbed them together. Didn't care that they aroused her as much as they did him. She had to escape before he tried to take things further—and she was tempted to let him.

Tempted? Ha! Willing to beg, more like.

Already her blood sang and her body ached from the delicious friction. When his erection stabbed at her clitoris, she had to clench her jaw to keep from moaning in ecstasy. “Let me go!”

“Your fate was sealed the moment I spotted you.” Droplets of sweat beaded on his forehead, making the skin appear like liquid gold. “Actually, it was sealed the moment you stepped into this forest.”

Damn him. What would Macy do in this situation? What would a real AIR agent do?

An AIR agent would already have cut off his balls, used them as earrings, and danced around his lifeless form. She could do no less. Maybe. Fine, she wouldn't be going near his balls, but she could definitely fight harder.

“I guess your fate was sealed, too.” Aleaha lifted her head and bit him, using the only weapon she had at the moment: her teeth. They sank into his
chin. The taste of sugar teased her tongue just as she remembered she feared contamination. Sugar? Mmm, as good as his scent. Heady, like aged wine. Clearly addictive, because she already craved another helping. Who cared about possible contamination, really? After all, Jaxon didn't think the Rakans were infected. So . . . Dinner, come to mama.

Breean ripped free with a howl. Golden blood trickled from the tiny punctures and onto her collarbone as he glared down at her. Angry as he was, the moonlight paid him nothing but tribute, washing over him with loving strokes. Had she truly just tried to eat him? Did that mean she was a cannibal like . . . no, no. Absolutely not. She didn't want to feast on anyone else.

“You bit me,” he snarled. “Are you infected?”

“With what?”

“A disease. Any disease.”

“No. Are you?”
Please say no.

That soothed him, but only somewhat. “No. But what if you are, and you don't know it?”

“I'm telling you I'm healthy.”

“Still. You should not have bitten me. Bloodshed is forbidden.”

Forbidden? “But you made the agents bleed.”

“Not me.”

“If those responsible were under your charge, it might as well have been you.”

A muscle ticked below his left eye.

“Just let me go, okay,” she said, doing her best to sound strong and assured this time rather than
frantic. She (might have) sounded breathless. “Otherwise, I
will
bite you again.” A lie, but he couldn't know that. No way did she want to lose herself to that chomping urge again.

“Do not ever,
ever
draw my blood. Do you understand? You'll not like the consequences, I swear it.”

Don't apologize
.
Don't weaken
. “Well, get off me and save us both. I can't breathe.”

He rolled his eyes. “Now you are just being silly. You're talking. Therefore, you can breathe.”

Smart bastard. “You have no right to hold me like this.”

“As the victor of this battle, I have every right.” Another of those slow, wicked grins tugged at the corners of his beautiful golden lips, and her heart skipped another beat. “Oh, the things I'm going to do to you. And I know what you're thinking. Is he open to suggestions? The answer is yes.”

Gorgeous and a mind reader. But she said, “Liar. I've suggested you get off me about a thousand times.” How she'd love to cut that grin off him. And maybe his clothes.
Stop thinking like that, you slut!

“No. You commanded.” He anchored her wrists to the ground with one hand and sifted the length of her still-pale hair through his fingers with the other. “I think I will like the dark strands better. Why do you hide them?”

No way she'd answer that and incriminate herself further.
Think, Aleaha
. To escape him, she needed a weapon. Besides her teeth. She'd tried to sheathe her pyre-guns at her waist while running through
the trees, but the unusual velocity of her motions had made her clumsy, and she'd dropped them. But she'd also had a knife, a knife Breean had taken and secured to his back . . .

Her eyes widened. Yes. Yes! Keeping it had been very stupid of him because now she could steal it back.

“My guess?” he continued, oblivious to her plans. “You don't want anyone to know your true identity.”

“Wow, detective. I'm so glad you're on the case.” She hoped her sarcasm hid both her chagrin that he'd already figured her out and her excitement that this battle between them could very well be over in minutes. All she had to do was convince him to free her hands. “For the record,
this
is my identity.”