Deadly Pursuit (A Blood Hunter Novel, #2) (44 page)

Her
knees
gave
way,
and
she
almost
fell,
but
his
arm
around
her
waist
held
her
steady
while
his
clever
fingers
moved
between
her
thighs.

“Open
your
legs,”
he
murmured
and
pushed
one
leg
between
hers,
widening
her
stance.

She
was
frozen
in
place
as
one
finger
pushed
up
inside
her,
then
withdrew
to
draw
lazy
circles
around
that
point
that
throbbed
and
pulsed.
The
sensation
was
overwhelming,
everything
was
out
of
control.

“I
can’t…”

She
didn’t
know
what
she
couldn’t
do,
then
he
found
the
exact
spot,
rubbed
once,
twice,
and
she
exploded.

He
held
her
tight
while
her
body
convulsed.
Only
when
the
tremors
eased
did
he
turn
her
around
in
his
arms
and
held
her
loosely
so
she
could
look
up
into
his
face.

A
lazy
smile
played
across
his
lips.
“Well,
that
was
easy.”

Alex
hadn’t
known
it
could
feel
like
that.
That
her
body
would
respond
so
readily
to
a
man’s
touch.
Not
any
man’s,
only
this
one,
she
reminded
herself.

She
wanted
to
hold
him
and
lie
in
his
arms
and
never
let
him
go.
The
thought
was
like
ice
water
poured
over
her.
She
wrenched
herself
free
and
stepped
back,
dragging
the
dress
up
over
her
naked
breasts.
“I
can’t
do
this.”

“Yes
you
can.”

“We
have
to
stop.”

“No
we
don’t.”

“You
don’t
understand.
I’ve
got
to
go
back,
and
I
don’t
want
to,
and
this
makes
it
harder
and”—she
paused
then
said
the
only
thing
she
could
think
of
that
would
make
him
back
off—“and
I
think
I
might
be
falling
in
love
with
you.”

He’d
been
reaching
out
to
pull
her
back
to
him,
but
at
her
words,
his
hands
fell
to
his
side,
his
eyes
wary
as
he
studied
her.

“Turn
around,”
he
said.

“Why?”

“Because
I’m
going
to
fasten
your
dress.”

Chapter
Twelve

He
could
still
smell
her
arousal
in
the
air,
stirring
his
blood.

They
hadn’t
spoken
since
he’d
fastened
her
dress.
Now,
as
the
ship
settled
on
the
soft
sand
of
the
moon’s
surface,
he
switched
off
the
engine
and
glanced
sideways
to
where
she
sat
strapped
into
the
seat
beside
him.
Alex
faced
straight
ahead,
a
fixed
expression
on
her
small
face.

She
thought
she
was
falling
in
love
with
him.

Even
if
she
stayed,
he
couldn’t
offer
her
anything
except
a
very
likely
death.

Nothing
had
changed,
and
everything
had
changed.

He
wanted
to
be
angry.
But
he
also
wanted
to
understand.

“Why
?”
he
asked.

She
turned
and
blinked
as
if
coming
out
of
a
trance.
“Sorry?”

“You
told
me
you
always
planned
to
go
back—what
I
don’t
understand
is,
why?
Once
you
got
away,
why
not
turn
your
back
on
the
whole
rotten
lot
of
them?
Don’t
tell
me
you
actually
believe
the
crap
the
Church
spouts.”

“Most
of
the
crap,
and
most
of
the
time,
no—I
don’t
believe
it.
But
a
lot
of
people
do.
The
Church
gives
hope
to
many.”

“Yeah,
and
it
kills
a
whole
load
more.”

“That’s
my
point.
I’ve
done
a
lot
of
thinking
and
reading
since
I’ve
been
away,
and
I’ve
come
to
realize
that
the
main
reason
I
was
so
unhappy
was
because
I
was
a
drone.
I
did
what
they
told
me
to
do,
and
it
all
felt
so
futile.
But
it
doesn’t
have
to
be
like
that.”

“You
reckon
you
can
change
things?”

She
nodded,
and
some
of
the
animation
returned
to
her
face.
“Generations
ago,
the
High
Priestess
had
more
power
than
the
High
Priest.
Something
happened,
and
she
became
a
mere
figurehead.
I’m
going
to
change
that.
I’m
going
to
get
the
power
back
and
make
things
better.”

“Jesus,”
he
muttered.
“I
knew
you
were
naive
the
first
moment
I
saw
you.
People
don’t
want
things
better.
People
want
money,
power,
and
immortality.”

“Is
that
what
you
want?”

The
truth
was,
he
no
longer
knew
what
he
wanted.
Right
from
the
start,
she’d
confused
him,
twisted
his
thoughts,
and
made
him
believe
that
things
could
be
different.
He
could
be
different.

None
of
that
changed
the
fact
that
he
couldn’t
protect
her
from
the
Collective
or
the
Church
hell
bent
to
have
her
back
under
their
thumb.
An
image
of
his
slaughtered
pack
flashed
across
his
mind.
He’d
been
their
alpha—it
had
been
his
job
to
protect
them,
and
they
had
died.
All
but
him.
He
couldn’t
keep
her
safe.
This
time,
he
doubted
he
could
keep
himself
safe.

The
best
he
could
hope
to
do
was
go
into
hiding,
but
the
Collective
wielded
so
much
power
that
eventually
he
would
be
found.
Unless
he
kept
moving,
kept
running.
What
sort
of
life
was
that?

She
was
so
young.
At
least
this
way
she
would
have
a
life.

“I
just
want
to
be
left
alone.”

Her
lips
tightened
then
she
visibly
relaxed.
“Well,
that’s
good
because
in
a
few
minutes,
I’ll
be
leaving
you
alone
for
good.”

“Off
to
save
mankind.”
Why
couldn’t
he
leave
it
alone?
He
was
goading
her
but
couldn’t
seem
to
stop.

“The
ones
who
want
saving—yes.”

“And
will
that
be
enough?”

“It
will
have
to
be.”
She
unfastened
the
harness
and
got
to
her
feet,
brushing
down
the
ludicrous
black
gown.
He
couldn’t
help
but
remember
what
was
beneath
it—a
pair
of
tiny
scarlet
panties,
and
a
whole
load
of
bare
skin.

“You
can
still
change
your
mind.
I
can
take
you
back
to
El
Cazador
.”

“No,
I
can’t.
I
can’t
do
that
to
them.
Without
me,
they
might
have
some
chance
of
keeping
ahead
of
the
Collective.”

It
was
on
the
tip
of
his
tongue
to
say
they
could
disappear
together,
take
the
shuttle
and
vanish.
But
he
swallowed
the
words
down.
It
was
a
stupid
thought.
He
heaved
himself
up.
“Let’s
do
this.”

She
nodded,
pulled
a
scrap
of
material
out
of
her
pocket,
shook
it
out,
and
placed
it
on
her
head,
covering
her
vibrant
red
hair.
He
hadn’t
thought
she
could
look
any
worse,
but
he’d
been
wrong.
God,
those
clothes
were
ugly.

“Suits
you,”
he
said.

She
cast
him
a
look
of
disbelief,
but
all
she
said
was,
“Thank
you.”

The
moon
had
an
atmosphere
ideal
for
supporting
human
life,
but
nothing
else—no
water,
no
soil—so
it
had
never
been
colonized.
It
was
a
bare,
desolate
landscape
of
ochre
rock
bathed
in
perpetual
twilight.

The
air
was
cool
outside
the
shuttle.
Jon
checked
the
readings
to
get
a
fix
on
the
rendezvous
point
and
headed
off.
After
a
few
minutes,
he
realized
she
had
fallen
behind,
and
he
slowed
his
pace
to
accommodate
her.

“Not
exactly
built
for
convenience,
that
outfit—is
it?”

She
didn’t
answer,
just
picked
up
her
heavy
skirts
and
followed
him.

They
walked
slowly
across
the
soft
sand,
neither
speaking
until
up
ahead
he
saw
the
outlines
of
two
ships.
He
stopped
while
he
studied
them.
One
was
small,
obviously
a
shuttle
from
a
larger
ship,
and
bore
the
cross
of
the
Church
on
the
side.
The
other
was
bigger,
squat,
black,
and
ugly.
An
unmarked
Mark
One
cruiser,
capable
of
deep
space
travel.

Unease
stirred
inside
him
at
the
sight,
but
he
forced
the
feeling
down.
He
was
just
looking
for
excuses.

“There
they
are,”
he
said.

Alex
had
come
to
a
halt
beside
him.
Her
face
appeared
serene,
but
her
small
hands
gripped
the
black
material
of
her
skirt
so
hard,
her
knuckles
showed
white
in
the
dim
light.

She
must
have
perfected
that
expression
at
an
early
age.
Learned
how
to
hide
what
she
was
really
feeling.

“Come
on,”
she
murmured.
“Let’s
get
this
over
with.”

Without
waiting
for
him
to
answer,
she
marched
off
in
the
direction
of
the
ships.

…

For
a
moment,
Alex
thought
he
wasn’t
going
to
follow.
She
kept
moving
and
finally
heard
his
slow
steps
behind
her.
Keeping
her
breathing
slow,
she
tried
to
calm
the
panic
clawing
at
her
insides,
willing
her
to
turn
around
and
run.
Even
in
the
cool
air,
her
skin
felt
hot
and
itchy
under
the
heavy
dress
and
with
each
step
she
neared
the
ships,
the
robes
grew
heavier.