Destiny Kills (11 page)

“Nothing I own is merely for show, sweetheart.”

“Will you stop calling me that?”

Amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Why should I, when it’s nothing but the truth?”

That
was a loaded gun I wasn’t about to touch.

He continued, “Why do you think Marsten’s mom holds copies of all the plans and security codes for the research center in Scotland?”

“Because it makes sense to have backups.” I leaned across the bench and watched as he Googled Marsten’s name. “And because he did a lot of groundwork here in the States before he ever shifted operations to Loch Ness, and he was working out of his mom’s house for a long while.”

Hell, he and his family might still have facilities here in the States. Just because we never heard them mentioned didn’t mean they couldn’t exist.

“How big is the research center in Drumnadrochit?”

“Huge.” I hesitated. “Though the center is actually between Drumnadrochit and Abriachan.”

“Oh, I know the area intimately.”

His voice was dry and I smiled. “It’s a very pretty area.”

“And your birthplace?”

I nodded. “Marsten is using my mother’s ancestral lands as his base.”

“He couldn’t have just walked in and claimed it.”

“He didn’t. He caught Mom first, and threatened me.”

He looked at me. “Which is why your dad ran?”

I nodded, rubbing my arms. “Mom gave him no real choice. She made him swear at my birth that if anything should ever happen to her, he’d take me far away.”

“Sounds like she had a premonition.”

“She might have. She was canny like that.”

“Maybe it’s a mom thing. Mine’s like that, too.” He pressed a finger to the screen and added, “Look, there’s an article on Marsten’s old lady in
Oregon Home
magazine.”

“I don’t suppose it comes complete with pics?”

“Let’s have a look and see, shall we?” He clicked the link. “When did your mother disappear?”

I hesitated. Memories rose, ghosts of a past part of me didn’t
want
to remember. Not because it was unhappy—it wasn’t, even when we’d left Mom far behind to come to America—but because darkness had overshadowed it. My life after childhood had been very dark indeed.

“I was only five or six when I came here.”

“Explains why there’s only the barest trace of an accent.”

I nodded. “My dad’s American.”

He looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “So how did you get caught if you were basically raised here?”

“I hit eighteen and decided that Mom needed rescuing.” I grimaced. “What a bad move
that
turned out to be.”

“Because the scientists grabbed you?”

“Yes.”

“But why?”

“Because I am a sea dragon, and female, and they consider us extremely rare.” Which we weren’t, but thankfully, they didn’t seem to know that. I pointed at the screen. “Nice interior shots, but is there anything that can help us get in?”

“One or two shots are useful.” He grabbed some chips and munched on a couple meditatively before asking, “So if your dad knew she was alive, why didn’t he call in her kin to protect you while he tried to free her? I have to say, if it had been my mate who was captured, I’d have battled hell itself to get her out.”

“Mom’s kin disappeared about the same time she was captured.”

“Why didn’t they try and get her out?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they didn’t want to get caught themselves.”

“And she never tried to free herself?”

“She might have. They kept us well separated, so I couldn’t physically talk to her, and the telepathy thing was a wash, as I said.”

Trae clicked one of the photos, enlarging it, then pointed to the ceiling area above the ornately curtained French doors in the picture. “See that disk mounted onto the ceiling?” I nodded, and he continued, “It’s an infrared motion detector. Probably has a glass-break detector installed, too, seeing as it’s positioned near the French doors.”

“Well, breaking in through a window wouldn’t have been advisable anyway. I really don’t want them knowing we were there, if we can help it.”

“Which means you can’t actually steal the plans and codes.”

“No.” I hesitated, and yawned. “Sorry. Egan was going to buy a digital camera and photograph them.”

Trae glanced at me, concern suddenly bright in his eyes. “You look tired. Why don’t you go get some rest? I’ll search the Net and see what else I can find about our Mrs. Marsten.”

I nodded, grabbed my T-shirt, then headed for the living room and the sofa in which I’d woken. I was sleepier than I thought, because I could barely even remember my head hitting the padded arm rest.

When I finally woke, wisps of moonlight were filtering in through the windows, not only washing the room with its pale light, but highlighting the footprints in the dust-covered floorboards. Trae had been in here more than once to check on me.

I smiled and pushed upright. Like before, waking on the plastic-covered sofa was painful, only this time my whole body was itchy. Infuriately so. I scratched at my side, my legs, my arms, then got up with a semi-growl. Moving didn’t help any. In fact, it only seemed to make the itching worse.

I walked into the hallway, then stopped. There was a light in the kitchen, but it was faded, like a flashlight that was rapidly losing battery power.

Part of me wanted to go down there, see what Trae had uncovered, and grab something to eat.

But as tempting as that might be, the reality was, I needed to get to water.

Fast.

Chapter Seven

I
swung around, walked back into the living room and over to the French doors. The moonlight flooding in through the dusty glass was as cold and as distant as I felt deep inside.

But through the hush of the night came the call of the sea.

It was a call I could not disobey.

I unlatched the French doors and walked out into the cold night. Paving gave way to grass, then grass to sand as I made my way though the overgrown gardens and onto the path I’d spotted earlier.

The wind swirled around me, sharp with the scent of the sea, tugging at my hair and at the hem of my T-shirt, as if trying to hurry me along. I all but ran down the path, my speed making my shoulder ache, and yet the ache getting lost in a growing sense of urgency. Fear even.

I had to get down to the sea.
Had
to.

I scrambled down the old steps that lined the cliff face, the occasional loose stone digging into my feet but causing no pain. The night had once again stolen such sensory details, leaving my skin cold and, for the moment, unfeeling. Leaving me the same.

I strode out across the sand. Waves rushed toward me, reaching with foamy fingers for my toes. When those fingers raced up and over my feet, a shudder that was part pleasure, part relief, ran through me. I stopped and stripped off the T-shirt, then the bandages, tossing them both back up on the beach. The wind caught them, flinging them backward, well out of the reach of the sea.

The waves roared as they rolled toward the pristine sands, the sound seeming to hit the cliffs and spin back, until the night was filled with the cry of the ocean. I flung my arms wide, breathing deep, filling my lungs with the cold, salty air, feeling it wash through every muscle, every cell, invigorating, renewing. There was power in the sharpness of the night and in the chill of the water, and my sudden laugh swirled across the waves, mingling joyously.

I was home. Maybe not my
actual
home, but the home of heart. My soul.

I continued on into the water and, when I was deep enough, dove under the waves. The icy water caressed my skin, a lover’s touch that soothed and healed. The itching vanished, replaced by a feeling of wholeness. The sea replenishing what the day had taken away.

I played in the waves, diving under and over, a fish who had no fins or tail. I have no idea how long I stayed there, but it must have been hours, because the moon was losing its strength by the time I began to make my way back to the shore.

Only then did I realize I was not alone in the cold, starry night.

I hesitated, but a wave hit my butt, forcing me on. I smiled, half wondering if the ocean was sick of my presence, but took the hint and kept moving.

Trae rose as I approached the sand, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight, filled with heat, filled with desire. His gaze slid down my body as I left the grip of the waves, and my skin prickled and warmed.

I knew in that moment that no matter how much I wanted to honor Egan’s death by showing a little bit of restraint, I wouldn’t. Not if the opportunity now arose. The night and the sea were filled with magic, and the longing to share it all with another was very much a part of who I was, what I was.

His gaze rose, annoyance warring with desire in those rich blue depths. “Why didn’t you tell me you had to come down here? I just about had a heart attack when I walked into the living room and found you gone.”

I stopped several feet away from him. “I’m sorry. It didn’t even cross my mind, and it should have.”

He contemplated me for a few moments, his spicy, masculine scent swirling around me, teasing my senses, stirring desire.

“That water is icy, and yet you come out of it glowing with warmth rather than cold. A gift of your heritage, I gather?”

I nodded. “We don’t have to change in the water—except if we want to go deep or stay under for longer periods. And my skin is always cold at night.”

“I noticed.”

A smile teased my lips. “So the thief has stolen a caress or two?”

His own smile emerged. “The thief has. And he has no regrets.” He took several steps, closing the distance between us before raising a hand, lightly brushing strands of hair away from my cheek, his fingers so warm, so tender against my skin.

“Why is the water so important to you? Besides the fact that you’re a sea dragon, of course.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Did no one teach you about your undersea cousins?”

“
My
family barely even taught us about the other cliques. Draman may not be killed, but they don’t get the same sort of education as full bloods.”

“Ah. Well, it’s because if I do not immerse myself under some form of water every twenty-four hours, I will die.”

“So it doesn’t have to be seawater?”

“I survived eleven years in that facility without seawater, so it doesn’t seem like it.”

But even as I said the words, doubt crowded my mind. What if there
were
side effects, and I just didn’t know about them? After all, my mom had been insistent that I get away from that place quickly. So what if it wasn’t
just
because of Dad, but because I was reaching the end of my limits, sea-wise?

I shivered and rubbed my arms. Trae immediately took off his coat. “Here, take this.”

I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay naked and cold and a part of the night and the magic, but there was something in his eyes—a steel that would brook no arguments. And why stand here and argue when there were many more interesting things we could be doing? So I slipped my arms into the sleeves, breathing deep the dual scent of leather and man, then let him slide up the zipper. His hands lingered near the top, his fingers brushing oh-so casually across my breasts.

“I notice the bullet wound is almost healed.”

I nodded. “The sea always heals. It is her gift to us.”

His hands slid down my arms, lightly rubbing, sending little shocks of electricity through the leather and across my skin. “I think we’d better get you inside.”

His voice was edged with a huskiness that had my hormones dancing. “Or we could stay here, and talk about whatever pops up.”

“Sweetheart, you may not feel the cold, but I’m fucking freezing. Trust me, nothing worthwhile is going to pop up on a night like this.”

“Really?” I skimmed my gaze downward. “That seems pretty worthwhile to me.”

He grinned. “Trust me, it’s only a halfhearted effort.”

If it was, it had to be pretty damn impressive when he was serious. I stepped closer, pressing myself against the warm, enticing hardness of his entire body. His hands slid around my waist, holding me closer still. It felt good, felt
right
. And that made the fear swirl again, because I really didn’t want to find someone else for the scientists to threaten and maybe even kill.

And yet the part of me that burned made me say, “Are you sure you want to go inside?”

“Yes,” he said, then lowered his head and kissed me.

Not sweetly, not tenderly, but forcefully, desperately, like a man in the desert who’d been deprived of water for too long. I returned it in kind, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding on tight as I tasted and explored and enjoyed. It was a kiss that seemed to go on forever, a kiss that I
wanted
to go on forever, until a dizziness that I wasn’t sure was due to his closeness or lack of air crept over me. It was only then that he pulled away and stared down at me. I was breathless, burning—and not just from the force of our kiss, but also the intentness of his gaze, from the resolve and determination so evident in the rich depths.

Whatever it was I was feeling, he was feeling it, too. And that made me even more frightened.

There was too much at stake already. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—put someone else in danger. Especially someone who might just be important to my future.

If I had a future.

I forced myself to step back, away from his warm body and marvelous kisses. “Maybe we’d better get inside.”

He ran one hand down my arm and clasped his fingers around mine. “Let’s go.”

I resisted the urge to wrap my fingers tightly around his, and just let my grip remain loose. “Don’t forget my T-shirt.”

He leaned down and scooped it up, then tugged me lightly toward the cliff and the old, worn steps.

The wind was stronger on the top of the cliff, tugging at my hair and freezing my exposed butt and nether regions. Which only served as a pointed reminder that next time I went for a night swim, I’d damn well better make sure to bring some decent clothes to wear afterward.

I huddled a little closer to Trae, and his scent spun around me, warming me almost as much as the heat emanating from his body. He released my hand, then wrapped his arm around my shoulder, drawing me closer still.

“The fish is suddenly feeling the cold, huh?” Amusement ran through the huskiness of his voice.

“It’s the wind.” I crossed my arms against a shiver. “There’s a storm blowing in, I think.”

He glanced upward. “Not a cloud in the sky.”

“Not yet. It’ll be here by mid-morning, though.”

“And how would you know that?”

“I can taste it in the air.”

“Of course you can.”

I shot him a sideways glance. “That wouldn’t be sarcasm I can hear in your voice, would it?”

“Why would I be sarcastic when the woman making the statement predicted—to the second—the time the sun would rise?” He slid his hand down my shoulder and lightly rubbed my arm. Warmth trembled across my limbs, and my fingers and toes began to tingle. As if this man was forcing life into extremities long used to being cold at night. “Another gift of your heritage, I gather?”

“Much like your fire,” I said, voice a little breathless.

He glanced at me, blue eyes gleaming with hunger. He might have said no on the beach, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want me.

“An air dragon’s fire is linked with daylight. Or rather, sunlight.”

“So Dad told me. He never did explain why, though.”

He shrugged. “It’s not a phenomenon that’s really been studied. It just is.”

“But why just sunlight? I mean, sea dragons can control water night or day, though the greatest power comes during the twilight times between day and night. It always struck me as odd that air dragons had much greater restrictions on their skills.”

“We’re creatures of air and the sun. We can shift shape at night, but when the darkness sweeps in, it puts out the flames. Literally.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So no one in your family has ever been curious enough to question why there seems to be a link between the sun and this flame-throwing skill? I mean, you can’t all be thieves. Surely there’s one bad apple who turned out to be something worthwhile—like a scientist?”

He grinned. “Thievery
is
something of a family business. We have a long history of collecting shiny things belonging to other people.”

“And why is that?”

“Because we like shiny things?” His eyes twinkled at me. “Why did sea dragons attack boats?”

“Because most were too lazy to work, and boats were easy pickings back in those days.” It was a guess on my part, but from the dim memories I had of my uncles, I was betting I was right. None of them seemed to have too much responsibility on their plates. Of course, I was viewing them through the memories of a child, so maybe I was doing them a grave injustice. I added, “So your skills come courtesy of family training?”

“Nope. Unwanted bastards don’t get much of a run in the family business.” Despite the sarcastic edge to his words, I could almost taste the anger in him. I could certainly feel the tension running through his body and arm. “Hell, draman weren’t supposed to get the family skills in
any
way, shape, or form, but something has gone wrong with my generation.”

I slid my arm around his waist, and though I was sure this man wasn’t after any kind of support or sympathy, said, “Or something went right.”

He flicked the end of my nose with his free hand. “Right for us. Wrong for them.”

“Why? I mean, if your father is going to fling it around with all and sundry, he has to expect that some of his so-called unwanted are going to get the full family genes—and all the skills that might go with them.”

“That’s just it. It doesn’t happen. It’s never happened, not in hundreds of years of history.”

That raised my eyebrows again. “How would they even know that if they have a history of killing draman at birth?”

“They didn’t kill
every
draman. They kept enough alive to work the farm and the fields.”

“So maybe they were killing the ones that showed dragon signs, which is why they’ve never picked up until now that draman were inheriting dragon skills.”

“Maybe.” He hugged me closer, so that my body was pressed hard against the warmth of his and I could feel the ripple of muscle as he took each step, each breath. Goose bumps ran across my skin, and I wasn’t entirely sure whether it was desire or that sliver of fear again. Or perhaps even both.

Because while my mind was urging caution, my body still wanted to fling it to the wind and just give in to the moment and this man and what was growing between us.