Deadly Lover (23 page)

She fell to the floor as she lost control of her muscles, her head slamming softly against the smooth polymer floor. After a quick scan to make sure she was alone, he stepped over her and into the room, dropping his bag by the door. He reached down and dragged her farther into the room, letting the door slide closed behind him.

The box of flowers he’d sent her sat on a table unopened. He shook his head at what could have been. He slipped the pulser into his bag and pulled out his real weapon. The polished silver of the metal-alloy claws he’d made himself shone with lethal beauty. Kneeling beside her, he looked into her brilliant green eyes and pulled it onto his hand. “It all could have been so different.”

 Fear widened her eyes and her body stilled. No doubt, she was beginning to regain control of her muscles. Quickly, he wrapped one hand around her neck, leaning in with all his weight and crushing her larynx. He threw a leg over to straddle her hips. She struggled beneath him like a kitten pinned on its back. Her hands beat against his arm and shoulder, but the armor did its job, softening the blows. Her body rocked beneath him. Her golden hair lay like a cloud around her face. Her cheeks and lips had been tinted a pretty shade of pink, feminine.

Had she been waiting for the animal?

He rested the razor sharp blades against her rib cage. He didn’t want it to end too soon. He pressed down and across, putting the weight of his body into the slash.

Bright red blood welled up through the gaps in her ruined sweater, but she didn’t stop struggling. Her struggles were weak. No strength behind them. Unskilled. He’d expected better.

A flash of intuition stopped his heart for a single breath.

Releasing the hold on her neck, he struck a blow calculated to stun her without knocking her unconscious. He’d had plenty of opportunity to practice. To gauge his punches. She stopped struggling for a moment as if her brain tried to recover from bouncing around inside her skull.

Gathering a fistful of her sweater he widened the rips. The delicious rending sound caressed his senses, drawing a shiver like feathers on bare flesh. Before the oozing flow of blood coated her belly he had time to see what he’d been looking for. Or rather to not see. No scars marred the soft perfect skin. Only the shallow gashes he’d dug against her ribs.

Rose.

He met her eyes again. Hers were full of tears. She had done nothing to deserve the pain he still ached to inflict on her. Control. He was in control. He decided who suffered. And she had suffered enough. She had been the good sister. The good girl. But she was a pale reflection of the stronger, bolder sister.

Her tears welled over, bathing her temples and soaking into her hair as she tried to speak.

He used a single finger to wipe them away. “Sh, I’m sorry, Rose. Don’t cry.”

No, she didn’t deserve to suffer. He’d make sure she didn’t suffer any longer.

Lily stepped off the elevated glide-train and onto the well lit platform in front of the elegant midtown high rise. Heading for the elevator banks, she debated whether to buzz the apartment where Kabel’s lover lived. She could stand guard in the hallway with no one the wiser, but someone might have already gotten inside. If they hadn’t stopped the killer, all the killers, the woman could be bleeding out while Lily hesitated.

A scuff against the pavement behind her spun her around, her pulse pistol in her hand. Jolaj stood at the edge of the platform where the train had just rocketed on to its next station.

“You’re supposed to be in The Zone.” Lily looked up and down the platform, grateful to find it empty. It was well past curfew. “You can’t be seen here.” She slid the pistol back into its holster.

“You were supposed to be with your family.” His words rolled out on an angry rumble.

“I thought she might have been left unprotected.” She didn’t have to explain who. He would know.

“She’s heavily sedated and under the care of several people I know can be trusted with her safety.”

The quiet settled around them comfortably, as if a silent hand wrapped a length of fabric around, a warm embrace of shared understanding, drawing them closer together. Dangerously close.

Lily frowned. “You were on the train?”

“I went looking for you at the O’Leary home and when I realized you were not there I followed your scent to the rail station. From there I was able to
slip
up the trains until I caught up with you.”

“I’m not sure I like the idea of you following me around.”

He moved toward her. Slowly. Cautiously. When he stood inches in front of her he wrapped his hands around her arms as if he couldn’t not touch. “I will see you safely home.”

His statement left no room for discussion. No room for refusal. But Lily bristled at the thought of allowing him to dictate to her.

“No,” she said.

She heard the whiz of an approaching train whisper along the rail.

“Get on the train and go home, Lily.” The command in his voice rang loud and clear even though his words had been little more than a whisper. Then he disappeared. The tingling sensation of his
slip
shuddered through the leather of her jacket and she shivered.

As the train came to a stop at the platform she saw him appear on the roof of the rail car. “Damn.” She hated his arrogance, but there wasn’t any reason to remain if the woman was already being protected. Reluctant, she strode forward and stepped inside.

She stayed on her feet, noting each face in the small compartment. Assessing threats. It was part of who she’d become.

When she stepped off the car at the Clinton station, she looked around for Jolaj, but didn’t see him. That didn’t mean he wasn’t there. She knew, because she was coming to know him. She strode over to the stairs that led from the platform to road level and leaned over the railing. She spotted him waiting in the shadows at the bottom. “You’re just lazy.” She whispered the words for her own entertainment, too low to be heard on the street level. “That’s why you
slip
so often.”

She smiled despite her frustration with him.

Instead of heading down the steps, Lily stepped onto the catwalk that ran along the edge of the rail.

Jolaj frowned, scanning the area for some trouble that would have sent her along the dangerous raised walkway intended only for emergency access. He listened to the sounds of the night and picked out the trace of her movements. Relaxed. Unhurried. Her sage and honey scent drifted to him on the breeze. He could find no sign of fear.

She’d called him lazy. Could she be taunting him? An odd lightness stirred in his chest. Inappropriate, considering the circumstances of the last several days. Despite that, he couldn’t keep the smile from curving his lips as he watched her movements. It was a game. She was playing with him.

He kept to the shadows, keeping her in sight as he moved down the street below her. The rail line crossed just above a building three blocks down from hers.

The crosswalks between the rooftops had been painted to obscure their presence, day or night, but his vision was too keen to be fooled. She could easily reach her home without ever coming down to the street. With a thought he
slipped
, worked the patterns, calculated, marked time, and
slipped
cautiously back in to
in-sync
on the roof of her building.

His heart tripped in his chest as he saw how narrow the crosswalk actually was. She moved across it like a shadow, graceful and effortless. He waited, leashing his restlessness, wanting to move to where he could reach out to take hold of her waist as she reached the edge, but worried her fear of his claws might startle her into a fall she would have otherwise avoided.

She jumped down onto the sturdier surface of the building and he allowed himself to breathe. He breathed in the garden spread out around them, covering the expanse of the rooftop. His heart expanded as she brushed a lavender plant with the tips of her fingers, releasing its scent on the breeze. She knew the garden well. Perhaps spent time there. She would enjoy his home, the top level covered in foliage and open to the sky.

She didn’t head to the stairs, leading down from the roof. Instead she looked out on the neighborhood. He moved behind her, shuffling his feet a little to avoid startling her.

“I’m not lazy,” he said.

She looked over her shoulder and shook her head, but there was something soft and peaceful in her eyes. Something he hadn’t seen there before.

“
Slipping
requires as much exertion as climbing stairs.”

She grinned and turned back to look out across the rooftops and he reached for her. She shivered a little as his hands found her shoulders and slid down her arms, then under to reach around her waist. He stepped close and wrapped himself around her, glorying in her acceptance.

He slipped one hand inside her jacket and let his claws rake across the SafeSkin top she wore beneath it. He could hear the change in her breathing, but he could not make himself pull away. When she lay her arm across his, pressing her hand against him, keeping his hand firmly in place, his body hardened. Every muscle tensed in anticipation. His cock stretched to aching proportions.

He pulled her more tightly against him, wanting to feel her ass against his desperately eager flesh, but the damn coat dulled the sensation.

He bent to press his lips to her temple. Her skin tasted sweet. She turned in his arms and looked up into his face.

“Jo...”

“Please, Lily.” His hand shook as he wrapped it around the back of her head. “Be with me in this moment.”

He feared she would deny him if he asked for anything more. She was spirit weary and he wanted to give her solace. To take solace in her body. In his soul, she already belonged to him. Her scent filled his head and her sadness tore at his heart. He needed to protect and care for her. She had called to his mating instinct from the moment he’d seen her in the alley. Sick with grief, he’d still been drawn to her.

He reached up and worked his fingers through her hair, freeing it from what remained of the knot she’d twisted it into that morning. The soft golden color shimmered in the moonlight as it fell loose around her shoulders.

Slowly he lowered his head. Pressed his lips to the soft plumpness of hers. He slipped his tongue out to taste her.

Damn, how he wanted her.

His entire body throbbed with wanting.

He thrust his tongue past her lips and lifted her in his arms. Her legs wrapped around him. The edges of her coat slid out of the way and he pulled her to him, fitting them together as they were meant to be. He thrust his hips forward, glorying in the heat of her pressed against his cock, only a few thin layers of cloth between them. She moaned and arched her back, pressing her breasts to his chest.

“I need you, Lily.” He needed her more than breath and shamelessly let his urgency color his words. “Mil’nal lij li.” It rumbled up from deep in his chest. “I need to fuck you.”

She laughed and buried her face against his neck. “It sounded prettier in your language.”

His lungs heaved. Fear squeezed like a fist around his throat. Fear she might grow angry or afraid, but she hadn’t pulled away. He could still feel her breath on his skin, feel the heat of her pressed against him.

“It will not be a pretty thing.” Not this time. It had been far too long for him. Lust clawed at his control and he hadn’t even gotten her out of her damned clothes.

She leaned back and met his eyes, her hand cupping his jaw. “I don’t need pretty.”

He growled, unable to speak. He would give her his need and hope it would be enough.

He strode over to a large, pillow-like cushion positioned amidst a stand of potted trees. He pulled her down and shifted her above him. Ever careful not to trigger her fear, he pushed the coat and holster from her shoulders. She helped him, wiggling out of the soft leather. Her movements above him stroked against his erection and he ground his teeth together at the sparks of need, licking along every nerve ending in his body.

He filled his hands with her breasts, both frustrated and grateful for the soft, SafeSkin top that clung to her curves and kept him from scratching her in his haste to get inside her. He wanted to see her breasts again as they’d been when he’d found her in the shower, tight nipples tipping the full firm flesh. Wanted to feel their texture against his tongue. But that would be for another time, when he had more control.

Twenty years since his mate’s death and in all that time he had never truly been tempted to take any particular woman. Had turned down the opportunity to take a new mate. His body hadn’t pressed him to claim a female he didn’t feel eager to bind to him for all time. Not until this woman did his body shake and throb with lust and the undeniable need to thrust his cock into her soft flesh.

He wrapped his hands around her hips and rocked her against him. She threw her head back, arching her body above him, exposing the long line of her throat. He couldn’t wait much longer. He tried to free her from her trousers but the fastenings were beyond him.

“Off.” He groaned out the single word close to her ear as he pushed her hands toward the offending clasps.

Praise Perpetuation, she rolled to her back beside him and freed herself as if by magic and allowed him to pull the soft material of her slacks and under things down her thighs.

Again he growled in frustration. He wanted to taste her, but he could not take the time he should. Wanted to touch her, but feared hurting her with his claws. Wanted to pleasure her, so she would let him fuck her again and again.

He surged up to his knees and pulled her under him on her hands and knees. Wrapping his arms around her, he pressed his hand over hers and moved her fragile fingers to where he needed to touch her. He pressed her hand against her own flesh, urging her to touch herself as he wanted. As carefully as he was able with his arousal riding him hard, he pressed her hand against the soft folds between her legs. His other arm held her tight against him. He couldn’t allow her to change her mind. She had to need him as he needed her.