Rush of Darkness (8 page)

“Must go faster,” she whispered, but when she looked forward again, she ran into a wall. An unyielding, towering wall of hot, masculine muscle. Panic gripped her tighter, until she lifted her gaze and found it was an adult McConnell holding her in his arms, crushing her against his hard chest.

Seth.

With her next gasping breath, his warm, mouthwatering scent filled her head, and desire surged through her with so much force she felt stunned, as if she’d been dealt a violent blow.

God, she might not trust this man, but she couldn’t deny that she wanted him physically. Every part of him.
His tall, muscle-hard body. His strength and his power. As well as that intoxicating rush of blood pulsing through his veins.

Unable to control her actions, Raine felt herself lifting onto her tiptoes, her hands curling around the back of his neck, his skin hot and silky beneath her palms and lips as she touched her mouth to the side of his throat. He made a low, masculine sound of approval, his arms locking tight around her waist as he crushed her against him, his heavy erection pressing into her stomach, making her achy and wet. Raine tasted the saltiness of his flesh with a flick of her tongue, consumed by visceral hunger, and in the next instant she sank her fangs deep into his jugular, the scalding wash of his blood so good she immediately started to come. His throat muffled her sharp cry as she pulsed and throbbed and shattered, the orgasm so strong she could feel the pleasure rushing through every part of her body, bursting in every cell.

He growled her name, so she sucked harder, drinking more of him down, knowing she’d need to stop in a few seconds. He said her name a little more gruffly, and she somehow found the strength to pull her fangs free, swiping her tongue over the tiny puncture wounds. Her head lolled back as his hands gripped her ass, lifting and grinding her against the thick ridge of his cock, the friction so good she was building up to another devastating release, and she couldn’t control the feral, provocative sounds breaking from her throat, wanting him so badly she thought she might go out of her mind if she didn’t get him inside her.

“Goddamn it, Raine! Wake up!”

She gasped at the sudden roar of her name, instantly ripped from the erotic depths of her dream as she opened her eyes and found McConnell standing beside the bed, his bandaged hand braced on the headboard, the other buried in her pillow, so that he was kind of leaning over her without making her feel crowded. She knew she was bright red, blushing, her heart hammering so loudly even his human senses must have been able to pick up the erratic sound.

“You okay?” he asked, giving her one of those hard, penetrating stares that made her feel like he could see right inside her.

“I’m fine,” she rasped, wetting her lips, wondering what the
hell
had just happened.

“I know you need more rest, but you were moaning in your sleep. I thought maybe you were having a nightmare.”

Was he messing with her? Oh, God, she hadn’t called out his name, had she?

“It was nothing,” she muttered, realizing she’d been thrashing so badly she’d kicked off the covers, the cool air making her shiver.

“Didn’t sound like nothing,” he murmured, the barest hint of a smile suddenly playing over his mouth as he lowered his gaze to the hammering beat of her pulse at the hollow of her throat. Then his gaze dipped lower, trailing over her body, touching on her breasts…stomach…legs, his smile lifting the corner of his mouth when he caught sight of her pink toenails.

“Can you please move?” she croaked, sounding like she’d swallowed a frog. “I need to get up.”

His gaze slowly made its way back to hers, leaving a flush of heat in its wake. “You don’t have to rush,” he said huskily. “You can sleep a little more.”

“What time is it?”

“Only eight.”

Her eyes went wide. “Then there’s no time for sleep.”

“Sure there is,” he murmured, and her embarrassment quickly morphed into irritation. She knew damn well he would have liked nothing better than to keep her from reaching Berlin.

Scooting her way to the other side of the bed, she said, “I’m leaving this hotel room in twenty minutes, McConnell. You can either come with me or stay here. The choice is up to you.”

He straightened to his full height as his smile slipped away, leaving his expression guarded. “Are you sure you’ll be okay in the sunlight?”

Though the Deschanel could be badly burned by the sun, they could go out into the light of day without suffering any serious injuries, so long as they’d recently taken blood from a species who wasn’t sensitive to sunshine.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, climbing off the bed. “I had enough of your blood last night to do the trick.”

He gave a curt nod and started to head toward his bag, which was still sitting on the dresser, but stopped and turned back to her when she said his name.

“What do you want to do?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “And I don’t mean what do you
think you
should
do, because of that misguided notion you have of protecting me. What do you
want
to do?”

For a moment, he only stood there, giving her another one of those dark, predatory stares. Then he quietly said, “Questions like that put me in a hell of a situation, Raine, since I don’t want to lie to you. But on the other hand, I don’t think you’re ready for the truth.” His eyes got darker. “So for now, I guess I’ll be helping you kill a Casus.”

Berlin, Germany

R
AINE COULDN’T BELIEVE
what she’d done. She’d actually slept beside a former Collective hunter and had a freaking sex dream about him. A dream in which she came harder than she ever had before. What in God’s name was wrong with her?

And being charmed by the way he’d stared at her toenail polish? Come on. She was so freaking pathetic! Not to mention severely frustrated by the part of her that wanted to stop by a spa and get the full works, just to see how he would react after she’d been all glammed up.

And that wasn’t even all of it. There was also that intense way he had of looking at her, as if he was reading her as easily as a book. And then that damn predatory stare when he’d teased her about what he “wanted” to do, as if the answer was something…sexual.

Whoa! Not going there. No way in hell.

They’d spent most of the day making their way across Germany by train, since it was the fastest way to travel when trying to avoid airport security. And considering the number of weapons McConnell was carrying, avoiding law enforcement and government agencies seemed
like the safest way to go. After finally reaching Berlin, they’d grabbed a quick dinner, left their bags at a local hotel and were now back on the Casus’s trail, making their way through some of the historic city’s seedy back streets.

McConnell kept close to her side, armed to the hilt, his presence an irresistible comfort—though she’d have cut out her own tongue before admitting it to him. She couldn’t afford to let him know how deeply he affected her.

Then came all those other complicated issues, like guilt and anger and fear. Yes, she could understand why his life had taken the course that it had. But that didn’t mean she could just forget the fact that he’d lived most of his life as a killer.

And aren’t you being a judgmental little bitch?

The husky words came from somewhere deep inside her, and she felt like saying,
Hey, it takes one to know one
. But damn it, she didn’t want to start having conversations with herself. Especially ones that were bound to lead someplace deep within her scarred psyche that she figured was best left alone. Untouched and unexplored.

“Have your parents lived in Italy long?” he asked, his deep voice pulling her from her thoughts. “I noticed they both have accents, but they were hard to place.”

She was thankful for the interruption, if not a little surprised. Despite the hours they’d spent in each other’s company that day, their conversations had been limited by the crowds of people that had surrounded them. But there was no one around now, and they were free to say
what they wanted. Which, she supposed, could be a good thing…or a bad one, depending on the topic. But since the subject of her family seemed safe enough, she said, “Their accents are a cross between Russian and South African. I was actually born in Johannesburg.”

“Then why don’t you have a similar accent? You speak perfect English, like Ashe, only not as British sounding.”

“That’s because I spent most of my childhood in Britain and Canada, as well as the South Pacific. My parents have always thought it’s important to move a family around, so that children are exposed to different cultures and places.”

“Did you like moving around so much?” he asked, the glittering lights of a neon billboard painting his face with iridescent streaks of color. Pink streamed across his brow and his left eye, followed by blue, purple and then green. He should have looked ridiculous sporting the rainbow splashes, but it seemed that nothing could take away from his raw masculinity. And yet, he didn’t act like a macho jerk, which was one of his most attractive qualities. In Raine’s experience, it was the true men who were comfortable in their skin. Who didn’t constantly go around with a chip on their shoulder. The others were just posers, like Westmore.

Not wanting to waste time thinking about that Kraven monster, she finally answered the soldier’s question. “Actually, I loved it. So much that I chose a career that kept me moving.”

“A career?”

It was obvious that she’d surprised him, and she couldn’t help but smile. “What? You thought I just sat around reading minds and dropping fang?”

He glanced down at her with a bemused expression. “To be honest, I’m not sure what I thought.” They walked past a group of teenagers drinking beer on the front stoop of a run-down apartment building, McConnell’s dangerous vibe probably the only thing that kept the kids from mouthing off. “So what do you do?” he asked her, once they were alone again.

It was impossible to hide the pride in her voice as she said, “I’m an environmentalist. For the past two years, I’ve been working for charities that are investigating the effects of deforestation.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“It is to me,” she murmured, beginning to wonder if she sounded like a science geek. “But, um, I guess it’s hardly the kind of thing that would interest a guy like you.”

Tension slowly crept into his posture, the cotton of his shirt stretching tight across his broad shoulders. “You know, Raine, I might not have a fancy degree, but that doesn’t mean that I’m an idiot or that I don’t understand the importance of the environment and ecological preservation.”

“I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. I wasn’t trying to say that you’re not intelligent,” she said in a rush, practically stammering her way through the awkward explanation. “I just thought it would probably sound
boring to a guy who travels the world…um, doing what you do.”

“Yeah, well, believe it or not,” he muttered, “I happen to be interested in other things besides killing and maiming.”

Okay. Definitely time to change the subject. “Well, I told you about my childhood, so now it’s your turn. Even though your accent is clearly American, it’s hard to place the regional dialect. So where were you raised?”

She watched him from the corner of her eye as he popped his jaw, and realized he was definitely still irritated with her. “Didn’t you see that when you went traipsing through my memories?”

Raine was starting to get the feeling that he was testing her whenever he made a glib comment like that, as if he was trying to discover just what she
had
seen. “Like I told you before,” she murmured, “I got caught up on certain things.”

For a moment there was nothing but the distant sounds of traffic and their footsteps on the cracked pavement as they made their way down the street, and then he blew out a rough breath and finally answered her question. “I was raised in Southern California.”

“Wow. So you really were a surf bum?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Hardly. My family lived up in the mountains behind L.A.” Sliding her a wry grin, he added, “Never was much for the beach. Always had a thing about sharks.”

Raine rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. You didn’t like their teeth.”

“Do you know anyone who does?” he rumbled, arching a brow.

Shrugging, she said, “Some people think they’re beautiful creatures.”

This time, he was the one who did the eye rolling. “They could look like mermaids, but it wouldn’t mean I wanted anywhere close to their mouths.”

Watching him from beneath her lashes, Raine couldn’t help but think about how sweet it would be to sink
her
teeth into him. To feel his flesh close in tightly around her fangs and drink directly from his vein. It was a dangerous thought—but not nearly as dangerous as the one that came after it, because she was suddenly wondering what it would feel like to feed from him while he was buried deep inside her. While that wonderfully strong, muscular body was holding her down, moving over hers, filling her with hard, heavy lunges that got faster…harder…deeper, at the same time that hot blood was pumping over her tongue, sliding down her throat like honey.

He probably didn’t believe her, but she hadn’t been lying when she’d told him that she’d never “eaten” during sex before. She’d never seen the two things as something that should be mixed, kinda like alcohol and operating heavy machinery. One wrong move, and disaster could strike, since there was a strong chance that her psychic abilities could cause her to form a powerful link with her lover. And that was before taking into account the fact that the Deschanel rarely mixed feeding and sex with other species because of the dangers that could be involved if the coupling was purely physical. You could
feed before sex, or after—but doing the deed while you were literally doing “the deed” could lead to all sorts of disaster.

Still, Raine would have been lying if she’d said she didn’t think it sounded sexy as hell. Which meant she definitely didn’t need to be thinking about it.

“We should probably stop talking,” she grumbled, casting a quick look over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed. “We need to concentrate.”

“Believe it or not, I can do two things at the same time,” he drawled, reaching beneath the hem of his shirt and grabbing the gun he’d tucked into the back of his jeans.

“Why do simple things like that always sound dirty when you say them?” she asked, watching as he checked the clip on the weapon.

The corner of his mouth kicked up with a grin. “I can’t help it if your mind’s in the gutter.”

Hah! If he only knew. She was so far in the gutter she had one foot in the sewer.

“You mentioned something this afternoon about flying into Paris yesterday, but how did you get all those weapons through security?” she asked, eyeing the gun.

“I didn’t have to travel with them. I stopped by the Watchmen compound in Paris before coming after you. They loaded me up.”

“Convenient.”

“Yeah, it was great,” Seth lied. In truth, there were still those who questioned his loyalty to the Watchmen, and one particular lion-shifter in the Paris compound had
been a major pain in his ass. The guy’s name was Remy, and he hadn’t liked having a former Collective officer in his home. Not that Seth could blame the guy. It was going to take years for many of the shifters to accept him—and in the end, no matter how diligently he tried to prove his loyalty, a hell of a lot of them would still eye him with suspicion.

Same as the little crossbreed walking beside him.

“You got a read on the Casus yet?” he asked her, tucking his gun back into the waistband of his jeans. He also had a knife strapped to his left calf and another Sig holstered on his ankle, as well as a switchblade in his pocket.

“He’s just gone into a local bar,” she replied, the thread of steel in her soft voice sending an uneasy feeling through his system. It didn’t fit, like watching a toddler holding a handgun. “The name of the place is the Highwayman. It’s only about two blocks away.”

They walked those two blocks in silence, so that she could keep her focus on the Casus, while Seth kept his attention focused on their surroundings…as well as her. Though he knew it was liable to drive him crazy, he couldn’t stop thinking about the soft moans she’d made during her nap, or the hot blush that had covered her cheeks when he’d woken her. Her breath had been shallow, her nipples drawn into tight buds beneath the thin cotton of her shirt, and he’d wanted her in a way that he hadn’t thought possible. It was as if he
needed
her on some primal, instinctual level that went deeper than lust, and he couldn’t explain it.

Yeah, she was pretty. But pretty women weren’t all that hard to find and he didn’t go around acting like a jackass with any of them, ready to lick the ground for a chance to be close to them. He just enjoyed them and moved on, never missing them once they were gone. But he’d missed the hell out of the psychic when he’d left Harrow House, and they hadn’t even been involved with each other.

Did he feel protective of her? Obviously. Any man who was a man would want to protect someone who’d gone through that kind of hell. But that still didn’t explain this pull he felt toward her. There was something more than attraction and protectiveness to the draw. Something that kept her constantly in his thoughts. A question he needed to find the answer to.

And he was starting to feel that if he didn’t get inside her, he was going to go out of his damned mind.

“The bar is just around the next corner,” she murmured, and Seth reached down to grab her hand, which earned him a startled look of surprise.

“It’s better if we go in looking like a couple,” he told her, his voice a bit gruffer than he’d expected, but the feel of her small hand in his had thrown him a helluva lot more than he’d been prepared for.

“Um, good idea.”

“And don’t take this the wrong way, but you might want to slut it up a bit.”

She snorted. “Nice try, McConnell.”

“I’m serious,” he murmured, throwing a pointed look at her conservative sweater. “I’m betting the local women
don’t normally come here without showing a little skin, and we’re looking to blend in.”

“Fine,” she muttered, slipping her sweater over her head to reveal the sexy little…he searched his mind for what to call it. Not a tank top. Camisole? Yeah, that sounded right. It was soft and sleeveless, with tiny little buttons that ran up the front, the neckline dipping deep enough to show a healthy dose of cleavage. And while he wasn’t thrilled about the barflies getting an eyeful, he was more interested in making sure this little operation went as smoothly as possible.

After tying the sweater around her waist, she reached up and pulled off the knit cap that covered her hair, the heavy mass falling in long, lustrous waves around her shoulders as she tucked the cap into one of her back pockets. Seth grabbed her hand again and led her inside, where they found the bar packed to the rafters, the stench of smoke and sweat so thick it coated their skin. Without a doubt, this was a place to drown in misery, the men rough-edged, while the women looked just as he’d predicted, with flat eyes and whiskey-flavored smiles. Raine might have been showing a bit more skin than she would normally reveal, but she still stood out like a shiny new penny, and so he kept his body in front of hers as he hustled her past a row of pool tables and into the back corner of the bar.

“You see him?” he asked, leaning his elbow on the high counter that wound its way around the walls, the surface scarred and littered with empty bottles and overflowing ashtrays. He had to raise his voice a little to be
heard over the blaring strains of an old country music song, but he wasn’t going to complain. Not when it gave him an excuse to lower his face close to hers.