Powerful Moves [L.U.S.T.] (Siren Publishing Classic) (3 page)

“I followed a guy here. I don’t suppose you saw where he went.”

“I don’t suppose I did,” Elena said dryly. It miffed her to have her mind go on an express trip to Fuck-Me-ville, especially when the driver of the train didn’t seem the least bit interested. He followed a guy here? How? From where?

“Are you sure?” He shoved long, slender fingers through silky-looking strands of dark brown hair.

Elena’s scalp tingled, imagining those fingers sliding through her own long, blonde hair as he settled himself behind her and prepared to mount her doggie-style.
Christ on a pogo stick!
The image made her cream her panties.

“Look. I didn’t see anybody,” she told him through gritted teeth. “I saw a flash, heard a sound. I felt a gush of wind on my face just before I heard you cry out and turned around to find you kissing that tree.”

That got her another look out of him, and, oh boy, the provocation swirling in those blue eyes put her in mind of sheer male dominance that ignited an almost-uncontrollable flame to submit. His gaze slid down her body like melted hot wax and climbed up again. By the time he settled on her eyes, her body felt as if he had touched and tasted every inch of her naked flesh from her head to her toes.

Cripes!
The man was potent.

“I didn’t cry out, and I wasn’t kissing the tree.” His gaze dropped to her mouth as if simply saying the word “kissing” had him thinking of doing precisely that to her.

It certainly made her think about it. She dared a glance at his lips, still slightly curved in that mocking grin. Oh yeah, those were definitely kissable lips. Her tongue ached to trace their shape, to delve between them to the warm recesses of his mouth, to tangle and dance with his tongue.

“I’ve never felt anyone move like that except a vampire,” she admitted quickly, trying to keep the conversation on track. It was a struggle given that what she really never felt was this intense attraction and almost-uncontrollable urge to jump a man’s bones before she even knew his name.

Oh, but wait. She did know his name. Tavius. Did that make it okay to rip off his clothes, push him back against the tree, lock her legs around his waist, and ride him to oblivion?

Somehow she didn’t think so.

“That’s exactly what it was.” Tavius’s words put an end to her mental debate.

Her vampire declaration fazed him about as much as the lingering power apparently only she felt. “You were following a vampire? Who? Why?”

“Regulus Le Mort.”

The name stirred something in Elena’s memory, but it was the trail of goose pimples racing down her spine that made her shiver. How odd. Why did the name sound so familiar, and why would simply hearing it bring about such a blast of uncharacteristic fear?

“Amazing,” he said barely above a whisper. “Would you look at all these trees?”

Elena narrowed her eyes. “Funny, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a city boy.” More like a barbarian gone Goth, she decided as she allowed herself a juice-stirring moment to study him.

And stir her juices he did. Leather boots led to leather pants that formed to a pair of long legs, strong-looking thighs, and a package large enough to make her light-headed. No doubt about it, the way this man looked in leather pants put every hair-band rock star of the eighties to shame. Poor Gideon would be so jealous.

The pants rode low, displaying a truly delicious pelvic definition that made her salivate. She licked her lips and pulled her gaze up. The shirt he wore appeared to be little more than a brown cloth with a hole cut out for his arms and head. Those arms looked strong enough to squeeze an orgasm right out of her, and that head was so handsome she knew it would visit her dreams for many nights to come. His face was angular, his lips full, his nose absolutely perfect, and those eyes... Forget the face visiting her dreams, those eyes were going to haunt her every wet fantasy!

“I’m not. I’m from Terra. More specifically, the city-state of Atnalta.” He turned his back on her and raised his voice. “Where did you see the flash, hear the sound? Could you tell what direction the wind came from?”

Terra? Atnalta?
Elena’s mind scrambled to catch up. Where in hell was that? “Over there.” She pointed northeast and then, realizing he couldn’t see it with his back to her, she added, “Somewhere near that boulder between those trees in the distance.” She managed to drag her gaze off Tavius’s gloriously sculpted ass to scan the area she just pointed out. “There’s no trace of him.”

Tavius shot her a look over a shoulder the perfect width for sinking her nails into while he slammed his cock in her spasming cunt. “How can you tell from here?” His gaze flicked pointedly down then leveled on hers again. “Are you ever going to put that thing away?”

Elena glanced at her Glock now trained dead center of his shoulder blades. She shrugged and slowly lowered the gun, but she didn’t put it away. The man radiated danger. He might send her insides on a screaming ride to Hormonal Happy Land with little more than a look, but trust didn’t necessarily accompany arousal.

He hadn’t batted an eye when she mentioned vampires. More, he was certain this Regulus Le Mort he had been following was a vampire. So he didn’t think her off her rocker for believing in blood-sucking creatures of the night. Would he think her mad when she told him of the powers she possessed?

Only one way to find out
.

“I know there’s no trace of him because I can see in the dark.” When he merely nodded at that, she said, “No. I don’t mean like you can.” That brought the sexy-as-sin curve back to his kissable lips. Heat moved over her, through her, as images of those lips on her throat, her breasts, the smooth, sensitive skin of her pussy flashed in super movie speed through her mind. “I mean I can really see in the dark, with or without the star and moonlight, clearly, completely. As good as I can in the light.”

Tavius nodded again. “You have nocturnal vision.”

“I have, huh?” Elena fumbled. Did nothing surprise this man? Who was he?

Vampire? Shifter?
No, this prime specimen of male perfection pegged her sense-o-meter as hot-blooded human. Details, however, of exactly how human or diluted his mortality eluded her. Could he wield the power to somehow jam her senses with thoughts of…sex? Was he causing this almost-suffocating heaviness of energy on the air?

She knew the answer to the last was an unequivocal yes, though instincts told her he wasn’t intentionally responsible for the blanket of heady power.

“Nocturnal vision,” he repeated. “Night seeing. You can easily distinguish everything around you without the need of light.”

Exasperated, Elena rolled her eyes. “I know what it means. I just never heard it called that before.” She was silently surprised he had. There was definitely more to Mr. Deliciously Packed than met the eye.

“There’s no sign of the gate. Bastard got hold of more quaxuam than Brink realized.”

“Quaxuam? Brink? Look, buster, you want to fill me in here?”

“There’s no trace of him.”

“Duh! Isn’t that what I told you? I guess there could be something behind the boulder. We should probably check before we give up.”

“I’m a long way from giving up, muirnin.” He turned all the way around and shoved the tips of his fingers into the pockets of his pants. The pose put her in mind of a cover for a rock CD. Damned if her pulse didn’t kick into a heavy-metal drum beat of pure carnal desire. Her attention centered on his long fingers that she just knew would have her writhing and begging if given a chance.

“Sounds to me like we both need to get our names straight,” she muttered. What she needed was to get away from this guy, and fast. Casual sex was one thing. She applauded the act and engaged in it whenever the mood struck. Something about this man told her having sex with him would be anything but casual. It scared her to feel such an utter certainty in her bones, and because it did, it pissed her off.

“Well, if you told me your name I would have something else to call you.”

“It’s Elena, wise ass.” She stomped past him, heading for the boulder. “And you can stop avoiding my questions. How the hell do you know there’s nothing behind it?”

“I’m assuming “wise ass” isn’t your last name.” The amusement in his tone made her give him her best death glare over her shoulder.

“Last name is Cabot, and you still aren’t answering my questions.” But he was following her. With his gaze glued to her ass, she noted, and stifled a chuckle despite her irritation as she continued to walk.

“I can see through it.”

Elena waited until she made it to the rock, cranked her night vision to crystal clarity, and examined the area before she spoke. “What? You have like X-ray vision or something?”

“Or something.” He stopped a few feet back and braced a palm on a tree. He leaned against it, ankles crossed, head cocked.

Damn Skippy, the man was sex to the oomph power.

The need to touch him shook her to the core. She wanted to paint a trail with the tip of her nail that started at his fingertip and moved up his toned forearm, his bulging bicep, the corded muscle in the side of his neck. She wanted to trace a path over the vein that pulsed in his neck, follow it to his jaw, and skip right to his mouth.

Elena crossed her arms over nipples peaked to almost-painful points, the fingers of her right hand still securely griping her Glock, and glared at him. The movement drew his gaze straight to her chest, and something in his electric eyes sparked.

“Who are you?”

His gaze leapt back to hers. “I told you, Tavius Zolan.”

“Yeah, I got that but…”

“And you’re Elena Cabot,” he steamrolled over her. “Tell me, Elena, do you have authorization to carry that thing?” He tipped his chin at the Glock nuzzled at her left ribcage.

“If you mean do I have a license, yes. I’m an agent with LUST.”

His lips twitched. “You’re a lust agent?” His gaze slid down her body, a languid fall that made her breath catch in her throat even as her pussy convulsed with suppliant spasms. Her nipples throbbed. Her abdomen flexed involuntarily as if tickled with a feather. Her belly fluttered. By the time his gaze paused at the juncture of her thighs, her panties were wringing wet with her own juices. She felt so close to release, a single touch would have sent her over the orgasmic edge. What the hell was going on? She never felt such a visceral response to a look from a man before.

“Cut it out!” She shifted her stance, pulling her legs tightly together before she could stop herself. She couldn’t let him know how those looks made her want to do unspeakable things with him,
to
him. If he had any clue how badly she wanted to screw him right now, she’d be toast.

“It fits.” The devious twinkle in his eyes should have pissed her off. Instead, it made her wonder just how devious he would be in the sack.

Ah boy, this man was way too dangerous for her.

“I didn’t name it.” Though she’d had some say in the acronym. She always thought it was cool, a good cover for the agency. LUST never bothered her before. Not the acronym or the emotion. Until now.

“Who did?”

“The founders.”

“And they would be?”

“That’s classified.” No way was she going to tell this guy about Michael and Gideon until she knew more about him. She should, however, tell Michael and Gideon about him.

“So the agency is part of the regime.”

“The…huh? This is Atlanta, hot shot, not Afghanistan. We call it a government in the US, but LUST isn’t exactly affiliated with the government.”

“Then who is it affiliated with?”

“No one in particular. It’s a privately funded agency.” Though the government employed the agency from time to time for missions the other government bureaus couldn’t handle. That fact really wrinkled her feathers. The agents of LUST were used, expendable to the leaders of the free world rather than accepted as equals, as people.

He pushed away from the tree. Two steps put him uncomfortably closer to her. Elena fought the urge to take a step backward. A primal knowledge moved through her, as if she knew him, her body recognizing him even if her mind did not.

“What does LUST stand for?”

You
. Elena barely caught the response before it rolled off the tip of her tongue. That was definitely not the answer she needed to give him. Forget that the word suddenly came with a picture of him next to it in her mental version of Webster’s dictionary.

“The Logistical Unit of Specialized Talents. LUST.”

Tavius nodded. “Specialized talents. Like your ability to see clearly in the dark.”

“That’s one example.” By the Gods, why couldn’t he have stayed at the tree? His presence was flummoxing. She needed to concentrate so she could initiate the mental connection with her mentors. Instead, she used much of that concentration to appear unaffected by Tavius. She needed him to see her as a woman in full control. What she didn’t need him to see was how desperately she longed to give that control to him, to be controlled
by
him.

When in the heck did I become a submissive
?

“Got any other talents?” He took another step closer, and the devilish gleam in his eyes made her take that step back she’d been battling against. “Or would you like me to guess?”