ShiftingHeat (7 page)

“Listen, Faye. You’re misinformed, to say the least. We’re
close supporters of Senator Gianetti, and he wants the same freedoms for
Talents as the rest of humanity enjoy. All we want is to contain Talents who
break the law and to prevent illegal organizations from attacking and using
Talents.”

She stared at him and suddenly, shockingly, he opened his
mind wider. She tumbled in, too astonished to back off, to wonder if he was
trying to track her. He’d let her in deep enough to give her access to his
truth center. She could tell if he was lying. “See anything wrong?” he asked.

She couldn’t deny that he believed what he told her. And she
felt sorry for him, sorry he’d let them draw him in. “They lied to you. They
want the registration.” Even to her own ears, she sounded unsure. And his
physical presence overwhelmed her. She breathed in his scent, wanted to tilt
back her head and draw in a great, cleansing breath.

He leaned closer. “Still don’t believe me? How about the
truth in this?”

She sensed his desire and she couldn’t do anything other
than meet his lips when he curled one arm around her waist and pulled her
closer. It felt scarily like coming home. Her mouth melded with his and need
filled her.

The kiss turned fierce, fueled by their tension and his
presence in her mind. She pushed, he retained his hold and she couldn’t feel
any effort in him. He brought one hand to the back of her head, threading his
fingers through her hair, dislodging the clip. It fell with a click somewhere
on the floor. Unheeding, she moved closer, pressed her body against his, felt
his arousal pressing against the zipper of his jeans.

This was truth. Need surged up, roared over her mind, her
senses and her reason. She wanted him so badly.

Nothing mattered other than him and this and now. Her mind
dissolved when he plunged his tongue deeper, explored with a ferocity she met
all too eagerly. He tasted good, his mouth firm, his tongue touching hers in a
combination of anger and desire.

Fuck, he turned her on like no one else.

He dragged his mouth away from her and turned them, pushing
her against her desk, urging her down. His hand went to the waistband of his
jeans. “You and me, now. Agreed?”

She nodded, beyond words, eating him up with her eyes. She
needed this. But sense crept back into her mind, enough for her to say, “Drop
the blinds.”

Without looking, he reached behind him for the cord and
released the blind to fall over the open window. He undid his pants, fumbling
with the button. “Door?”

She shook her head. “I can sense someone coming.” If he left
her now, even to lock the door, she’d lose her nerve. She’d start to think.

He jerked a nod. “Good enough.” He glanced down at her,
taking in her supine body in one comprehensive sweep. “Get those off.”

She shouldn’t feel such a thrill at his peremptory orders,
she really shouldn’t. But his commands turned her on, made her juices flow.
Hastily she undid her jeans and dragged them down, taking her panties with
them. He finished the job for her, shoving them to below her knees so he could
part her legs and enter her.

She needed him in her. Desperation fed her mind. And she
didn’t know why.

Not that she was thinking straight right now.

He groaned as his cock breached her pussy, echoing her moan
of encouragement and cry of “Yes!” and he didn’t stop until he’d embedded himself
fully. Her body opened gratefully to accept him. Wet and open as she was, he
still had to shove twice to get deep inside. She gripped him as if afraid he’d pull
out and leave. This couldn’t be happening, this madness that held them both in
a spell she couldn’t resist.

But it was. It was. As he rode her, she arched up so her ass
cleared the surface of the desk. Their bodies met with a wet slap—the only
sound in the quiet room apart from their gasps and moans. Neither spoke, except
with their bodies. She was hungry, like a woman starved of sex, although she’d
never missed it before after long fallow periods. As a civilized person, it had
been part of her life, something that added a sweetener. Nothing else. Now she
felt that she couldn’t live without it. She came with a keening cry, clutching
his T-shirt, crumpling the soft cotton in her hands.

They paused. Andros stared into her eyes, the link as
intimate as anything she could ever remember. As intimate as their joined
bodies. She’d never known what “seeing the soul in his eyes” meant before. She
breathed his name. “Andros.”

He bared his teeth, snapped like the dragon would. “Faye.”

He thrust again and they returned to the whirlwind. He
planted his hands on either side of her, the sweat on his palms making the
shiny veneer squeak in protest. He grinned at her and drove harder, faster. And
it still wasn’t enough. He filled her so completely that for once in her life
she felt fulfilled, not alone. She pulled him down for a kiss, needing him
filling her above and below.

Andros growled into her mouth and her senses prickled, a
wave spreading through her, pulsing through her body. This time she had the
time to feel her orgasm grow, to savor the sensation. It swept through her and
her lover sensed it, either saw it in her eyes or picked it up in the small
amount of her mind that she allowed him to share. Because even now she wouldn’t
open more for him.

She cried out, hearing his cries in response, feeling him
gush wetly inside her. Not caring who heard, who would come to discover them.
At least for a minute. For half a minute.

Then she quieted and listened. Andros’ breath came harsh in
the sudden silence. “Do you think anyone heard?” he asked.

She shook her head, her hair clinging to the desk with
static where it touched. “Not today. They’re all in the hall or they’re out.
Another day they’d have come running.”

She didn’t want him to leave. He gazed down at where their
bodies meshed, where his blond hair met her brown, and grinned. “Not what I had
in mind when I came in here.”

“Me neither,” she managed, her voice shakier than she liked.

Some agent she’d make. She should have used the chance with
him to gain a hold in his mind, to find something in him, as he had found in
her, that meant she could locate him. Or tried to find out more about why he
felt as he did, that STORM didn’t want the registration of Talents. Something.
Instead she’d come apart under him, let him guide her to pleasure, and then
succumbed to mindless sensation.

He leaned over her to grab a handful of tissues from the box
on her desk and held them to her pussy as he withdrew. Liquid left her body in
a warm gush. She reached down to take the bundle from him, allowing him to zip
up, grateful he’d thought of the results of their impetuous lovemaking. “Thanks
for that. I don’t have a change of clothes here. I can get a shower though.”

“Not without me.”

She wiped herself and pulled up her underwear, trying to act
insouciant. “You know what will happen if we share a shower.”

He turned away, running a hand over his hair, flicking the
heavy lock at the front behind one ear. It made him look almost boyish. How
could she let a convert, barely into manhood, turn her inside out like this?
How did he do it? “I know. You can always come back with me. I have an apartment
at STORM.”

“How did you manage that?”

He shrugged. “They wanted me. You know how hard it is to get
a decent place to live in the city. And besides—” He indicated the crutches
with a careless wave of his hand. “At the time, they weren’t a prop.”

“What was it, what did you have?” She knew she shouldn’t
ask, but he wouldn’t tell her unless she made a point of it.

“I had Becker’s. It’s a form of muscular dystrophy. Not as
fast acting as Duchenne but the result’s the same. You live, you get
progressively worse, you die. When I was converted it was pretty bad, it’d
gotten worse fast. They helped me, gave me a place to stay and something else
to think about. I don’t have the savings or the resources some shape-shifters
do. I needed the job.”

She wanted to give STORM some credit, try to believe what he
was telling her or at least listen with an open heart. “Is that why you were
converted? To save your life?”

He shrugged. “No. I didn’t want it. It didn’t seem fair,
somehow. I was on a waiting list, but I didn’t ask for any special privileges.
But then it became inevitable. A mission went wrong and the person who
converted me was left with a split-second decision.”

By the way he turned away, she knew she wasn’t going to get
any more today. She had to satisfy herself with that. But it explained a lot.
Why he looked so young, younger than his age, even. Long-term illness would
sometimes do that. And why she sensed a lack of confidence in him sometimes and
a touch of awkwardness between him and his dragon. He was still getting used to
the change.

She turned abruptly and caught sight of herself in the small
mirror in the corner of the room. Hair tousled, lips red from kisses, eyes
still dilated in the aftermath of two devastating orgasms—shit, anybody seeing
her now would know for sure what she’d been doing. She needed that shower. “There
are showers here we can use.”

“So you live in town too.”

“No. There’s a facility upstairs. A small gym and showers.
There shouldn’t be anyone about.”

“You’ll be perfectly safe in my apartment.” He paused. “If
that’s what you want.”

She took a deep breath. The idea of sharing a shower with
him, a long, hot shower in more ways than one—she pushed the thought away.
Ideas like that weakened her resistance to him. Even now she felt him pushing,
urging her to open more. But she wouldn’t. He’d seen enough, had enough. “I
can’t. I have a meeting to attend in half an hour.”

“Faculty?”

“No.” She’d have to tell him. “The Fairness Society.”

Andros heard her words with a sense of dull doom. In his research
to discover her whereabouts he’d seen the name and done a little investigation.
Of all the societies to attend, this wouldn’t be on his list of favorites. “Why
the fuck are you going there? Don’t you want to hear me out?” Ostensibly the
society was formed to protest compulsory registration for Talents. But in the
quick search he’d done in STORM archives, he’d discovered disturbing stuff. The
society was under observation for subversive activities. The report he saw
didn’t detail the kind of subversion, but it was flagged and given a higher
security setting. Although he had the clearance, Andros hadn’t had the time to
investigate further. But the fact that it was flagged meant it was an ongoing
investigation.

With any luck, he’d meet an agent there. Because one thing
was for sure—for the foreseeable future, where she went, so did he. He wanted
answers. Why had she stolen his ankle bracelet? Just getting it back wasn’t
enough.

She put up her chin defiantly. “I promised I’d go. Harken
Nordheim is speaking.” She stared at him as if she expected a reaction. Did she
think he knew the name? He’d have to disappoint her because it didn’t ring any
bells. Maybe if he’d taken more time and clicked on the link at STORM, he’d
have seen the name. Too late now. She wouldn’t wait for him to establish a
secure connection and get there. “You should listen to what he’s going to say.
You might learn something.”

He was going, though not to be converted. “I’m willing to
listen.”

He glanced in the mirror, smoothed his hair into some
semblance of order. Thank fuck for tousled hairstyles. Although hers was
probably too tousled even for that. He grinned. He’d helped to cause that.
“Lead me to the showers, then.”

The showers were utilitarian but serviceable, the water hot
enough. They took a swift shower, sadly not together, and he kept his mind
firmly locked to the gap he’d found in hers, the gap he’d created when they’d
made love for the first time. No, fucked. They’d fucked. Only he’d thought of
it as making love—she obviously hadn’t. Doing it this time hadn’t confirmed
anything for him though, except that she could prove addictive. He wanted her
again and he couldn’t see it ending anytime soon. Not that he saw any future in
this. Not if she insisted on believing that the agents at STORM were scum.

He shut off the trickle of water when it turned lukewarm and
grabbed the towel, rubbing it vigorously over his body, for all the good that
did him. The fabric soaked through fast and he wished he’d taken another.
University-provided towels were worse than he remembered.

Not that he’d attended this establishment for long. But the
university, keen to have him come back, had given him the opportunity of doing
his doctoral research here. However this mission turned out, he intended to
take it. Today he’d assured them that his MD had stabilized, that the move from
the West Coast had just upset him for a time. Eventually he’d come clean, but
since his disability had nothing to do with his research and he intended to
refuse any privileges they offered him to help with his condition, he felt no
need to fess up yet. Because at the moment, with the Fairness Society in view,
his crutches would prove an asset. He could go to this meeting and nobody would
suspect he was Talented.

Then he received a telepathic message from someone he knew
well.
Get out here, I need to talk to you.

What was Johann doing here?

It didn’t take Andros long to dress, even though his jeans
and T-shirt snagged on his still-damp body. He’d be sure to take a decent
shower when he got home. He exited the showers, crutches in hand, to find his brother-in-law
waiting just outside. Faye couldn’t get out without passing him. This was the
only exit, apart from a fire door that would scream its objections if she tried
to get out that way. But just in case, he kept his mind linked with hers.

“Hey, kid.”

From most people he’d hate the moniker, but from his brother-in-law
he could take it. Big, bad Johann Kovacs leaned against the wall, his broad
shoulders propped against it, at ease.