Charlotte Boyett-Compo- Wyndsheer (6 page)

And he had to know what her true connection to the bastard whose fear for her safety had transmitted itself so powerfully to the Lycant. He had intercepted deeply-hidden images rushing through the other man’s head and those images had made the hackles rise on Jamie MacGivern’s neck.

“Lovers,” Jamie snarled under his breath, his fingernails digging into his palms as he walked. The government prick and Mairi had been lovers and that knowledge seared him. He had no idea how old or new that relationship was but he intended to find out.

The man Wendt sent to trail MacGivern lost him so suddenly it was as though the earth had opened up to swallow the Lycant. One moment he was there and the next he simply vanished in a wisp of fog that skipped between the tracker and his quarry. Despite searching carefully for over an hour, not a trace could be found. As the sun began to set, the tracker made his way reluctantly back to the village.

* * * *

She was still asleep when Jamie entered the cabin. He knew she would be for he’d given her enough of the drug in her coffee before he left to keep her out while he’d gone down to Lamb’s Grove.

Lying on her back with one arm beside her head--her wrist shackled to the headboard--she was smiling faintly and he could not resist leaning over to kiss her. She stirred and sighed in her sleep when he eased his hand into the neckline of one of his shirts he had given her to wear to gently cup her breast.

It made no difference to him how many men she’d known before him, how many had laid between her thighs. That was all over and done with. He would be the last man to have the privilege of taking her.

He kneaded her soft flesh and felt his cock begin to harden. It needed her.
He
needed her. Withdrawing his hand, he fished in his pocket for the key to the cuffs and unlocked them, sliding the steel bracelets back into the drawer.

Shrugging off his coat, sitting in the rocker to tug off his boots, he pulled the shirt from his jeans and unbuttoned it. After he peeled the long sleeves up to his elbows, he went over to the cupboard and took down the metal box containing the narcotic vials, opened it and withdrew a second vac-syringe that was filled with a stimulant created to counteract the strong narcotic. Sitting down on the bed, he injected a bolus of the drug into her neck then ran his fingers down her cheek. He waited until he saw her struggling up from her drug-induced slumber before getting up to replace the vac-syringe in its container. He returned to the bed.

“Mairi,” he whispered as he sat beside her. “Wake up, lass.”

She moaned lightly and her eyelids fluttered open. The moment her eyes connected with his, she smiled.

“Did I fall asleep again?” she asked, yawning.

“You need the rest,” he said. He caressed her cheek.

“I need my husband,” she said.

Jamie felt her words to the very core of him. When she held her arms up to him, his heart nearly broke from the guilt that suddenly washed through him, but he pushed it brutally aside and enveloped her in his arms, burying his mouth against hers, thrusting his tongue deeply into her soft warmth. He felt her wedge a hand between them to run her fingers over his chest.

The hell with everything else, he thought. She was his and he ached for her. He pried her arms from his neck, got to his feet, then snagged the covers and tossed them aside. The sight of her long legs beneath the hem of his shirt made his mouth water.

She sat up and pulled his borrowed shirt over her head, tossed it aside. “Hey, sailor?” she teased. “New in town?”

“Aye and I’m thirsty. I need to taste you,” he said for that had been all that he had thought of the last mile up to the cabin. He had yet to know her special flavor on his tongue, the scent of her deep in his nostrils.

As soon as his words registered, a sharp pain drove straight through her head and she clutched at the sheet beneath her, staring up at him as he stripped out of his shirt. When he glanced up at her before taking off his jeans, another pain stabbed at her brain and her eyes widened as flashes of memory--like the shards of a broken mirror--began careening, tumbling through in her mind’s eye.

Naked, he crawled onto the bed and between her legs, pushing them gently apart to wedge his shoulders between her thighs. His palms slid under her and he lifted her hips.

“You smell so good,” he growled and buried his face in the curls over her sex.

A piece of the skittering, falling mirror connected with another and she saw the top of another man’s head--one with blond hair.

Despite the pain lancing through her head, she shook her head in denial, pivoting it back and forth on the pillow and she reached for his hair, threading her fingers through the thick dark waves, sliding them down to remove the band that held his ponytail.

His breath was hot on her mound, his tongue doing wicked things to the folds of her cunt as he licked at her, suckled her and another jagged section of mirror slid into place beside the other two and she got a quick glimpse of a nice-looking man’s face, but it was not the face of the man whose mouth was turning her inside out.

Her hands tensed in his hair and she pushed aside that other face, wanting only the man pleasuring her. He was nibbling at her clit and the sensation was sending shock waves of sheer delight through her lower body and deep into her womb. As he pulled a hand from beneath her and inserted a finger into her channel, she groaned aloud. She heard him laugh then another finger drove deep.

“Jamie!” she cried out, tugging at his thick hair.

“Like that, do you?” he whispered against her, the vibration of the sound making her tremble.

And another piece of the broken mirror settled into place and a voice--so unlike Jamie’s soft brogue—spoke her name—Allison.

“No!” she hissed, not wanting that other part of her life to intrude.

Jamie raised his head, hurt filling his face. “No?” he questioned. His pale green eyes had lost some of their sheen.

“No,” she said, catching her mistake. “I don’t like it, Jamie. I love it!”

Then she saw him smile for the first time and that smile broke her heart for it was filled with such happiness, such contentment she wanted to reach down and gather him to her, hold him forever.

“That’s good to know, lass,” he said then lowered his head to suckle her clit while a third finger thrust into her and began a rhythm that had her arching her hips up from the mattress in cadence.

She stared up at the ceiling above her as piece after piece joined her memory together to show her an opulent bedroom, a king-sized oak monstrosity of a bed with velvet bed curtains draped around it, moiré wallpaper, and a man hovering over her whose expression was one of being pleased with himself instead of glad he was pleasuring her.

“Cody,” she mumbled, hoping Jamie had not heard her and tore her mind away from the man with whom she had been having an affair for the last two years.

But it wasn’t Cody Wendt who concerned her, but another man whose face suddenly appeared at the side of that very expensive bed--a man whose enraged countenance was only a fraction of a degree less deadly than the .45 caliber pistol he was clutching in his hand.

The sound of that gun being fired made her jump and as Jamie slithered up her to cover her with his tanned, brawny body it was Wendt’s look of stunned pain that she saw instead of Jamie’s handsome face.

“What’s wrong?” Jamie asked, searching her eyes.

And then he knew.

That part of him that was not human, that instinct that was honed much finer, sharper, intuited the thoughts going through her mind and he stilled.

“I ….” He didn’t know what to say to her.

“Love me!” she said in a voice that was part panic and part desperation. “Jamie, love me!” She clutched at him, pulling him to her. “Make me stop remembering! Make me stop remembering!”

For a split second he balked, but the terrible loneliness that had been abated the last few days would not let him roll off her. His cock was ridged and burning with need and her hands were all over him, refusing to allow him to leave her.

“I don’t care who I am,” he heard her say. “I just need you!”

He did not need any more encouragement and took hold of his shaft and thrust it deep inside her, filling her, stretching her. He grunted as her legs went around his waist and her fingernails dug into his bare back, her hips jerked upward so that he was seated to the hilt within her velvety warmth. As she began writhing beneath him, those short little fingernails pricking his flesh, he lost all sense of humanity and started ramming into her with enough force to make the bed rock.

She was caught up in the heat and the smell of him. His weight pressing down upon her was the most delicious feeling she had ever known. Even more than the stiff, hard cock thrusting into her welcoming cunt, it was his muscular body slick with sweat as he pumped against her that set her blood to racing. He was heavy and that heaviness was glorious. She felt captured, imprisoned by his brawny arms and feeling his fingers clutching at her rump as he strokes lengthened and sped up made her wild with need.

This--she thought as she strained her cunt against his invading cock--this was what she’d been searching for all her life. This was the pleasure that had eluded her, that had briefly showed its treasures to her only to snatch them away again. This wondrous, sensual man suspended over her was what she wanted, what she needed. He was expertly giving her what she had known all along was out there but could never seem to find. He was a man giving of himself.

It didn’t matter that he had lied to her. Nothing but his strong body and handsome face and delightful tool had meaning for her--that and the suspicion that this man was as lonely and desperate as she, that he needed her as she needed him.

“Love me,” she whispered to him. “Jamie, please love me.”

He knew he already did. He’d loved her from the moment he’d first seen her face at the crash site. But he had no chance to tell her for such exacting pleasure suddenly rippled through him as her vaginal muscles undulated around him and tugged at his shaft. He howled with the release for it was the most intense he’d ever known and his frenzied thrusts would be enough to bruise them both but that was of no importance. He felt her nails raking his back as she came again and he could barely breathe for her legs had clamped so tightly around him he could no longer pump into her and just lay there with his cock buried in her vibrating folds.

“Oh, my God,” she gasped and clutched him to her. They were both sweaty and slick and the scent of their combined juices made her want to pump against him until they were both ready to fuck again.

He growled and rolled over to his back, her lush body trapped in his arms. His eyes locked with hers and there was steely determination in the green depths.

“You remember who you are?” he asked.

She nodded. “It doesn’t matter.”

“To me, neither,” he said firmly, “but they are looking for you.”

She winced. “The Agency?”

“Whoever that blond asshole works for,” he grated, his jaw flexing.

“That was Cody Wendt,” she said.

“Your lover,” he stated.

“Ex-lover,” she corrected him. “We haven’t been together since my husband shot Cody in the back while he was lying atop me.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Jamie’s mouth but he made no comment about what she’d said.

“I almost remember everything,” she said, plucking at the wiry hairs over his left nipple. “The plane went down?”

“You were the only survivor,” he told her. “I thought you were a prisoner since you were shackled to some fat guy.”

“Richard Owens,” she provided. “A bank embezzler I had arrested in Ogden and was taking back to Wellington.”

His arms tightened around her. “I’m not letting you leave.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Who said I wanted to?” Her smile matched his, but his took her breath away for it transformed his face into that of a movie star handsome male.

“I made it look like you fell over the side of the cliff and into the rapids below,” he admitted. “Blondie didn’t buy it.”

“If Cody is anything, he’s thorough,” she said with a frown. “Unless he sees my body--up close and personal--I doubt he’ll ever let it go.” She wriggled in his arms. “I gotta go to the bathroom.”

Reluctantly he released her and watched her climb off him, grinning when she looked around the room. “Behind the screen,” he informed her. Running his hands behind his head, he ogled her naked body--so firm and so flawless--until she was hidden behind the folding screen.

“Ah, Jamie?” she called out to him. “Where the hell are we?”

He knew she had lifted the lid on the garderobe and was peering down into the vast blackness of the cistern.

“Roughly two miles underground,” he answered and heard her gasp. His eyebrows shot up when she peeked her head around the screen, eyes wide, mouth open, hand gripping the panel.

Chapter Four

“What?” she asked in a squeaky voice.

“I built the cabin into a cavern with a large complex of caves,” he said. “No one can find it even with infrared probes. There is a sheet of ice between the top of the cavern and the roof of the cabin.”

“Holy Mother of God,” she mumbled. “Why?”

“Why did I make this my home?” he asked and at her silent nod, he shrugged. “Well, once a month for about two days when the moon is full I undergo Conversion and .…”

“You’re a Lycant!” she gasped and he saw her fingers on the screen bleed of color.

“And you are a Lycant’s mate,” he said, holding her stare.

She swallowed hard. “How close are we to the full moon?”

“A week and there is no need for you to worry. I won’t be here when I Conversion. I won’t ever allow you to see that.”

She let go of the screen, forgetting all about having to relieve herself. She padded back to the bed and climbed on it. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said though she knew her reaction had hurt him. She laid her hand on his biceps. “I ….”

“You won’t ever see me in Lycant form,” he repeated. “Now go piss before you wet the bed.”