Dark Moon (20 page)

“We have work to do.”

“We can’t do it now.”

When he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, she wondered if he was afraid that she’d try to break away from him.

Never!

He laid her down gently, then came down on top of her, panting as he trailed kisses down her throat, then her collarbones, working his way to her breasts, turning his head one way and then the other, kissing and licking at her, driving her wild with need.

His hand slid down her body, then into the triangle of blond hair at the top of her legs before reaching lower to glide into her sex. She was swollen and slick for him, and he murmured his appreciation as he stroked her from vagina to clit and back again.

“Please. I want you inside me.”

“My finger?”

“Are you teasing me—the way the priests were teasing that woman?”

“Did that turn you on. Watching her?”

“You know it did. And you know it’s more than that. It’s us. Together.”

He moved over her, angling his body so that his penis slid against her wet heat.

Unable to wait, she took his firm, full cock in her hand and guided him to her vagina.

And then, finally, finally, he was inside her, filling her.

She kept her hands on his back as he bent to kiss her, then began to move his hips, drawing almost all the way out of her, before gliding back in, the measured rhythm teasing and inciting her.

“Please . . .” she moaned, like the woman on the table, her hips raising and lowering, begging him to speed up his strokes.

As the pace became frantic, she climbed toward the top of a high mountain, where the thin air made her head spin. And as she toppled over the edge, she felt him follow her into space.

He clasped her to him, calling out her name as his body jerked with his climax.

He lay on top of her, breathing hard, then shifted to his side, taking her with him, clasping her sweat-slick body.

She belonged to him in ways she had never imagined. Maybe she had belonged to him since the day they’d met. And he belonged to her.

“We have to talk,” he said in a voice that sent a shiver down her spine.

“About us?”

“Yeah. I have to tell you things about me.”

“Something I’m not going to like?”

“I wish I knew.”

At that moment, the door burst open and armed men spilled into the room.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Emma cried out.

Cole leaped off the bed, putting himself between the men and Emma, but he knew that if he attacked, they’d kill him, and do God knew what to her.

“Don’t move, or you’re dead.” It was the guy named Greg who had served them drinks on the hovercraft. He looked a lot less friendly now.

“Hands behind your backs.”

“Let her put some clothes on,” Cole growled, keeping his voice steady when he wanted to scream in rage. How dare these bastards burst into a private bedroom.

But he knew they wouldn’t have done it unless they’d found out something about him and Emma. Had he said something last night, and they’d been waiting to pounce.? Or was there some other source of information? The question was, how much did they know?

He saw the men ogling Emma’s naked body as she cringed away and tried to cover herself. Their smirking faces made him want to crash their heads together, but somehow he kept from going berserk.

After an eternity of silence, Greg picked the tunic up off the floor and threw it at Emma. She snatched it up and pulled it over her head. It covered her from shoulders to just under her breasts, leaving most of her exposed. She was less than half dressed, and that looked like that was all she was going to get.

“Hands behind your back,” Greg said again.

Still buck naked, Cole complied, and the security man clamped metal cuffs around his wrists.

Another man did the same for Emma. Her eyes met Cole’s, and he saw the panic that she was struggling to hold down.

He wanted to say something reassuring, but it would only be a lie. They were in bad trouble.

“We are going through the party room to the exit. Walk straight ahead. Keep your eyes down. Don’t try anything funny.”

They exited the bedroom to find everyone craning their necks to get a look at them. Cole was still naked, and he knew that was an intimidation tactic. On the other hand, it probably wasn’t all that unusual on this damn ship.

The security men had told them to look down, but Cole kept his head up, his gaze raking the crowd as the armed men marched them through the fantasy setting and out the door.

They formed a parade down the hallway with a guard in front, Emma next, then Cole and two more security men.

He kept trying to figure out how to get away, but he couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t get them shot. Or worse.

They all took the elevator to Deck Five and then to Del Conte’s office.

The
Windward
’s master was sitting behind his desk his face impassive. But Cole saw emotions churning below the surface of his calm. Although he looked the captives up and down appraisingly, Cole refused to be intimidated.

“What’s this about?” he demanded.

“Your background doesn’t check out.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Ignoring the protest, Del Conte continued, “Why are you really here?”

“To have a good time.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Cole Mason.”

“I don’t think so.”

Cole wanted to ask if he’d given Big Ben the wrong answers, but then he’d be admitting that there
were
wrong ones.

Del Conte kept his gaze steady. “Did you kill one of my security officers, a man named Tom Dalhasi.”

Emma sucked in a sharp breath, her gaze going to Cole.

He kept his voice even. “No.”

“He went missing last night. There’s a bloodstain on the carpet in one of the staterooms.”

Remembering the injured woman from last night, Cole snapped, “Maybe one of your guests got too rough with a slave.”

Del Conte glared at him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

No point in challenging him on that. “You have any evidence linking me to him?”

“A man in a security officer’s uniform dumped a heavy bundle off the side of the ship around 3:00 a.m.”

Cole shook his head. “I don’t know anything about it.” He looked at Emma. “I was with you then, wasn’t I?”

“Yes,” she managed to say.

“You got back at three twenty,” Del Conte said.

Emma was watching the exchange wide-eyed. Obviously she was thinking about last night, reevaluating what he’d said about the missing hours.

Del Conte kept his voice even. “I believe you’ll tell me what I want to know.”

“I have told you!” Cole spat out as he glared at the man.

The master of the
Windward
leaned back comfortably in his expensive desk chair. “You’d rather watch me torture Ms. Ray? I can tie her to that stone table in the party room and do some things that she’s not going to like.”

Cole’s guts twisted. He’d talk to save Emma. The problem was, he was pretty sure that talking wasn’t going to buy them much. Once Del Conte found out why they were here, they’d both end up buried at sea like Tom Dalhasi.

Del Conte looked at Emma. “Did you go to the Carlton Academy in Baltimore?”

She stared at him. “No.”

“Where did you go to school?”

After a slight hesitation, she answered, “Woodrow Wilson High School.”

“We can check on that. I’ll give you some time to think about it,” he said. “A half hour.” He turned to Greg. “Lock them in the brig.”

The guards marched them out of the office and down the hall again, into an anteroom with a desk, several chairs, a row of lockers, and a computer system with a bank of monitors showing various views of the ship. Also a gun rack with Uzis along the wall. Well, maybe things were looking up.

 There were doors along a hallway, and Greg shoved him through one into a metal room about ten by twelve. Emma landed on top of him before the door slammed closed behind them.

He took a moment to catch his breath and assess their surroundings before scooting around so that Emma was leaning against him.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Did you kill that guy?”

“If I had, I wouldn’t tell you about it now.”

She looked around the room. “Yeah. They’re probably hoping we’ll say something incriminating in here. She forced a laugh. “Like where I went to school; can you believe he asked about that?”

He leaned over to press his cheek to hers and spoke in a barely audible voice. “He must have some idea about your background.”

“How?”

“No idea. But we’ll get out of this.”

“How?”

An plan was forming in his mind. A desperate idea he wouldn’t consider under any other circumstances.

“Emma, look at me.” He ached to take her in his arms, but his hands were secured behind his back. Pulling away, he saw tears glistening in her eyes.

There was something he had to tell her. Something important.

“I love you. I couldn’t admit that—even to myself. Maybe I was trying to run away from it last night, but I’ve known it was true since we first made love.”

“Oh Cole. I knew it too. I love you. So much.”

He swallowed hard. “No way am I going to let them torture you.”

“I don’t think you can stop them.”

Ignoring the comment he continued, “There’s something you need to know.”

“What?”

He looked up again, scanning the room and shook his head. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

“I do.”

“You may not. In a while. But . . .” He moved so that his mouth was against her ear. “There’s only one way we’re going to get out of here.”

“Okay,” she mouthed.

He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking that this all depended on split-second timing. Otherwise, he was going to dislocate his shoulders.

He wished he could turn off the lights. He wished they’d put him in a separate cell so she wouldn’t see him transform for the first time like this. But he had to work with what he had.

He spoke in a low voice, trying to warn her without giving anything away to the men who were listening. “Remember outside the Temptation Club, we split up. And you saw a dog mauling the guy who came after us?”

“Yes.”

“Did you think it might be a wolf?”

“I . . . yes.”

He gave a sharp laugh. “And then last night when I was chanting in my sleep. Those are clues.”

“To what?”

“Clues you’re going to need in a few minutes.”

She stared at him, and he knew she was wondering if he had come unhinged. Maybe from his ordeal the night before.

“Cole?”

“It’s going to work out okay,” he said, hoping he wasn’t lying through his pointed teeth.

When she started to speak again, he shook his head. “Time’s almost up. I have to listen for them coming back.”

She nodded.

He gave her a fierce look. “You’d better get up and stand against the wall. As far as you can get from me.”

When she didn’t move, he prodded. “Go.”

Awkwardly, she pushed herself up and moved against the wall, staring at him.

His stomach clenched. He was planning to terrify the men who came to get them. And it wouldn’t be much better for Emma. For all she knew, he might be planning to eat her alive.

But he couldn’t worry about such details now. Straining his ears, he listened. At first, there was nothing to hear besides the sound of his own harsh breathing—and hers. And he wondered if Del Conte had been lying about his intentions. Finally Cole detected footsteps coming back. Two pairs. Good. He could take care of two men.

“They’re coming. Get ready.”

“For what?”

“To stay out of the way.”

In a low voice he began to chant the ancient words that had transformed the men of his family back into the mists of time.

“
Taranis, Epona, Cerridwen
,” he intoned, then repeated the same phrase and went on to another.

“
Ga. Feart. Cleas. Duais. Aithriocht. Go gcumhdai is dtreorai na deithe thu
.”

Those were the words she’d heard him speak last night.

“Cole?” across the room, Emma’s voice was high and strained.

His only option was to ignore her and keep chanting. If he didn’t do this right, both of them would be in worse shape than they were now.

He focused on the chant and the change that it brought to his body.

The first few times he’d done it as a teenager had been a nightmare of torture and terror. But once he’d understood what to expect, he’d learned to ride above the physical sensations of bones crunching, muscles jerking, cells transforming from one shape to another.