Scarlet (36 page)

"What are those for?" She pointed at the scarves obviously expecting to see something else.

He hid his smile. "They will ensure I have your undivided attention."

Catherine shook her head. "I'm not going to just let you tie me up." She took a fighting stance.

"Have it your way," he said, moving so fast she couldn't track his movements. Raphael was upon her before she had a chance to blink.

She squealed and began to struggle. Raphael managed to slip one scarf over her wrist and tighten it, then he lifted her off her feet. Catherine kicked out and connected with his knee.  He grunted, letting her know she'd hurt him, but kept walking until he reached the chair. Raphael dropped her onto the seat and then quickly looped the other end of the scarf around the chair, effectively shackling her.

"Let me go, damn it." Catherine yanked at the scarf, but only succeeded in tightening the knots.

He reached for her feet and she kicked at him. This time he was ready for her. Raphael caught both of her feet and quickly unlaced her boots. He yanked them off, along with her socks, then moved to the belt at her waist.

"W-what are you doing?" she gasped, trying to hold onto her pants with one hand and get free with the other.

"Making it so it will be easier to question you. I find that nudity stops most physical fights." He continued to strip her.  Within a couple of minutes she was naked, with her arms and legs bound to the chair.

*    *    *

Catherine's breath was coming out in billowy gasps. Her legs were spread, exposing her sex—thanks to her ankles being tied to the chair. She'd never been so humiliated and regrettably turned-on in all her life.

"I demand you release me this instant. You've violated at least three laws that I can think of off the top of my head."

Raphael looked at her askance. "More like four, but who's counting? Now, let's get down to business. How long have you been working for Roark Montgomery?"

"I don't work for Roark. I'm a tactical team member Catherine spouted off her identification chip numbers just like she'd been taught to do in training.

He shook his head, his disappointment clear. "Please don't lie. It's unbecoming in one as lovely as you."

"I'm telling the truth," she said. It hit her a second later that he'd called her lovely. She'd been called many things over the years, but lovely wasn't one of them.

"No." He shook his head. "You're not."

Raphael undid the buttons at his wrists and rolled up his sleeves, exposing pale, muscled forearms, dusted with a sprinkling of dark hair. His movements were exact and practiced, almost sensual in the ease with which his fingers folded the fabric. She wondered if those hands would be as demanding on a woman's body. A hot flush covered her cheeks and Catherine forced her gaze back to his face.

Raphael appeared focused on what he was doing, but she didn't miss the quick glances he made at her breasts. He might be fierce and relentless, but he wasn't entirely unaffected by her nudity. Catherine hoped that would be enough to keep her alive. She forced herself to relax.

"Now, I'm going to ask you once more, how long have you been working for Roark? If you lie again, I'll have to come up with a suitable punishment." His gaze raked her and despite her fear, Catherine felt her nipples harden.

Raphael's eyes locked onto the jutting peaks and hunger flared in his dark depths. Catherine's breast grew heavy and heat swept her body. She swallowed hard.

"I don't work for Roark. I only met him a few weeks ago."

Raphael looked at her. "I should tell you now I'm able to sense when you're lying. The statement you just made is both the truth and a lie," he said matter-of-factly. "The question is which is which?"

She scowled. "I am not lying. Roark called me and Lieuenant Bannon in to work security for some upcoming appearances. Nothing was ever finalized. I haven't spoken to him since.

He stepped forward and her breath caught.

"You have to believe me." She shrunk back in the chair and braced for a blow that never came.

*    *    *

Raphael did believe her. He could smell the truth oozing out of her pores. He could also smell the lush wetness emanating from her spread legs. If the light was brighter in this room, he had no doubt he'd see her glistening. He turned away, trying to gain control of his needs, his hungers. Raphael licked his lips and rolled his shoulders. He took a deep breath, then turned back to face her.

The visual impact of her naked body hit him in the gut, nearly knocking the breath out of him. She was all rounded curves and hidden valleys. The fact that she was bound and defenseless made her even more appealing. He felt himself harden under her perusal.

"W-Why . .." his voice rasped. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Why would Roark want you to work security? As a private in IPTT, you hardly have the experience to take on such a job."

She shifted and tried to close her legs. The scarves wouldn't allow it, so she stopped and straightened. "He said it was for show. Something about letting people know he could relate to the commoners, too." Catherine shrugged.

"Don't you think that seems odd?" he asked, stepping closer,
despite the warning going off in his head. Her powerful gift hit him with gale force and he swayed. Raphael shook his head to clear it.

"Roark's request might be a little strange, but as you can tell I'm certainly capable of doing the job," she said, jutting her chin out. "Besides, I'm not in the position to question orders. I'm still on probation."

"I thought you said you didn't answer to Roark." Raphael dropped to his knees in front of her and her eyes widened.

"I don't. What are you doing?" she asked, scooting her bottom back. She didn't get far, a scant half inch at most.

"I need to make sure you aren't lying. Your story seems to change every time I ask you a question."

She squeaked in alarm. "You said you could tell whether I was lying by sensing it or something."

Raphael grinned. "That's correct, but it's not the only way to uncover the truth." He licked his lips. "Your powers might be so great they can mask the truth. I have to be sure." He reached out and skimmed a finger over her collarbone, following the graceful slope to the soft mounds of her breasts.

*    *    *

Catherine shuddered, but it wasn't out of fear. She was painfully aroused. Gooseflesh rose on her arms and over her body. She watched a smile ghost his sensual lips before he suppressed it. His cool fingers glided down between the peaks of her breasts and her breath caught in anticipation. Would he touch her? Did she want him to? Her body certainly did, if her hard nipples and the moisture pooling between her legs were any indication.

She knew she should be fighting him. At least putting up a pretense of a struggle. So what if he kissed like a bandit. This man was the enemy. At the very least, Raphael had kidnapped her and kept her here against her will. She didn't want to even think about the fact he'd bit her or that she'd found it pleasurable after the initial pain. And it had been pleasurable. She'd nearly come apart in his arms.

Catherine watched him kneel before her and her breath stuttered. There was something darkly menacing about him, in stark contrast to his pale skin and gentle caresses. His black eyes shimmered like mercury, always moving, missing nothing.

"They say truth has a distinctive taste. Only one way to find out." He moved closer, his hot breath fanning over her flushed skin.

She quivered in anticipation. Heaven help her. She wanted him. Wanted what he offered, even if it was in the guise of seeking information. His head dipped and his mouth latched onto her aching breast, while his hand closed over the other.

Catherine arched as his tongue swirled over her pebbled flesh, teasing it with consummate skill. She felt the brush of his fangs. One wrong move and he'd slice her open, but he was careful and oh-so thorough as he sucked and worried her engorged nipple. Catherine closed her eyes and groaned. "W-what are you doing?"

He released her with a slight pop. "I would think that would be obvious," Raphael said, stroking a nail over her other nipple. It immediately sprang to life. "You have magnificent breasts," he said. "So lush and full. A man could happily least upon them for days."

"This is wrong," she gasped as he pinched her.

"It doesn't feel that way to me." His mouth moved soothingly, easing the sting. Raphael was doing things she'd only read about in e-books. He clamped down and Catherine moaned, struggling to get closer.

She had to stop him. This had gone too far. She was losing her ability to reason. "Please," Catherine begged, not sure what she was asking for.

"Please what?" he asked, making his way down to her stomach with gentle kisses. His soft hair brushed her flesh, heightening her awareness.

Catherine's thighs quivered as he neared her navel. His tongue made lazy circles around it, teasing the edges, but not quite dipping inside. By the time he entered the shallow indent, her hips were moving restlessly of their own volition. The ache coming from deep inside her was gathering force Soon it would be too late.

"I can't," she said, trying to clear her mind, but it was impossible. Catherine didn't want to climax. Not this way. Not for him. He had enough power over her. Yet, her thoughts refused to leave his talented mouth as he tongued her navel. She gripped the arms of the chair until her knuckles turned white.

"No one is forcing you to do anything," he said, nibbling on her ribs. "We're just having a conversation."

They were talking? Talking about what? For the life of her, Catherine couldn't remember. His hands latched onto her calves and he began to knead his way up her legs. His thumbs neared the apex of her pleasure, but didn't go any further.

Catherine braced herself, the nerves in her body hypersensitive. He was so close. She wanted him to stop—and she desperately needed him to keep going. Her clit throbbed, keeping time with his kisses. He was back to lavishing her breasts with attention. Was it possible to orgasm from that alone? Catherine hadn't thought so before, but now she wasn't sure. If this was his idea of torture, she couldn't imagine what it would be like if he loved a woman.

Her head dropped back and her jaw clenched as she reached for completion. It remained elusive, balancing on an edge she couldn't tip. Catherine growled in frustration when she realized she wouldn't get there without him. And she knew by the lazy way he was teasing her breasts that he wasn't about to go any further unless she asked.

She looked at the top of his dark head. He was watching her through his long lashes, a smile playing on his sensual lips. He flicked his tongue over her flesh and Catherine felt fire shoot through her veins. She mewed as her body demanded release.

"You bastard." she ground out.

His lips twitched in amusement. "I've been called far worse."

“Why can't you—" She couldn't do it. Catherine couldn't bring herself to ask for what she wanted—no,
needed.
It would mean that he'd won. And she couldn't stand the thought of that. He continued his sensual assault. Her body's demands grew louder. "Raphael, please," she grit between clenched teeth.

He arched an insolent brow, refusing to make it easy on her. "What do you want, little storm?"

"You know damn well what I want," she said, as a second wave of power rushed out of her. "And don't call me little storm." It sounded too much like an endearment. "My name
is Catherine. If you can't remember that, then call me Chaos."

*    *    *

Raphael held onto her, his mouth teasing her already aroused flesh. He was so hard he'd passed the point of pain. He wanted to fuck her so badly he could taste it, but he wasn't about to do that without her permission. He may be many things, but he wasn't a rapist.