Taken by Fire (18 page)

Mel, because he refused to think of her as the same person as fire-bitch. They might share one body but they were two completely separate people.

He moved past security by showing his ID—Devlin had put his name on the list and the guard had been waiting for him.

Stryker walked up to the stone structure, which was fronted by a single fireproof pane of glass.

She was sleeping. They’d kept her in the fireproof blanket for safekeeping, which couldn’t have been comfortable all night. When she woke, she’d be Mel, and she’d be looking for him.

“I’m taking her with me,” Stryker told the guard. “I just need to wake her up and make sure everything’s fine before you open the door.”

He looked through the window and tapped lightly. Mel’s eyes opened and she looked around, half startled. He tapped again and she looked up and saw his face through the glass, gave an unabashed smile before she pulled it back.

The natural, unguarded reaction tugged at him.

“You can open it now,” he told the guard, who still hesitated. “Give me the keys and I’ll do it.”

The guard did as he asked. Stryker couldn’t blame the guy for worrying about being deep fried—Phoebe’s threats had been detailed and extreme.

Stryker unlocked the heavy door and pulled it open. Mel watched him enter the room as she struggled to sit up with the weight of the blanket around her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Phoebe took over a few minutes after I got here, so I don’t remember much. I’m fine, though.” She paused. “Do you have the shots I need?”

“We’re going to pick them up from medical when I take you there for some tests. But we’ll do that after you eat breakfast,” he said, and saw her face light again.

“You mean—I can leave here, go with you?”

He stood over her. “Devlin agreed. And now my ass is on the line, Mel.”

“I understand.”

“I hope you do. Because I’ll be put down if this gets out of hand.” He undid the lock around the fireproof blanket and pointed to the narrow doorway that led to the bathroom. She practically ran there, the poor thing, and when she came out, she looked much calmer.

He motioned for her to follow him out, which she did. The guards kept their distance and Stryker motioned for her to sit at the table outside the cave, next to him, where he’d laid out her food.

She didn’t hesitate, dug into the breakfast enthusiastically.

“We’ll grab more on the way back from medical,” he told her
after seeing her demolish the eggs and bacon and pancakes. He remembered how she was on the plane at the thought of not being allowed to eat—he never wanted her to feel that fear again. She nodded, leaned back for a second with her hands over her tummy as if letting everything digest.

“After that?”

“We’ll go to my house,” he said, more gruffly than he intended to. “Let’s get moving.”

As they walked out of the security section and through the compound, Mel was brimming with questions. Innocent ones about the different units, and the different badges on the BDUs, but every answer he gave could arm Phoebe, so he was careful.

Once at the medical facility, he waited while Mel was run through a battery of tests—MRI, EEG, blood draws … all of which she handled without a single complaint. Afterward, they headed to the pharmacy.

“Everyone seems … happy,” she said as they sat in a small room, waiting for the injections to keep Phoebe at bay.

“Well, not all the time, but yeah, this is a really cool place,” he agreed.

“When did they recruit you?” she asked, but before he could answer, the cool voice of the nurse interrupted.

“Stryker was born here.” The nurse, Kylie, smiled at Stryker as she handed him the bag full of hypodermics. “We think we successfully duplicated the formula, but you might want to be alert after the first injection to be sure it works. This is a week’s supply. Just call me if you need more—you know my number. Make sure to inject her every—”

“I know when to give myself the shots,” Mel said, slipping Stryker a sweet smile—and okay, then, this was … weird. “Come on, I’m hungry.”

She tugged his hand possessively, with an assurance that made Kylie turn away with a pout.

They walked along, hand in hand, to the caf.

“An old girlfriend?” she asked.

“Not exactly,” he muttered, and she didn’t press it. He wondered if it was bad that her possessiveness turned him on, so much so that he found himself fantasizing about stripping her of her clothes and taking her in an open field.

Well, it was bad since he was forbidden to take her clothes off at all. Fuck. He took his hand out of hers to open the door to the caf and followed her inside.

“Those are the men from the plane,” she said, right before they got in line, and yes, Ender and Wyatt and Avery had strolled in together, no doubt fresh from a debriefing. “I’m sure they’re okay guys.”

“Wyatt is. I don’t know Avery well, but Ender’s an asshole and really proud of it,” he told her. “Grab your food to go. We’ll make a trip to the store later … if you can cook.”

“I can,” she said with a touch of playfulness in her voice that suited her. “I don’t mind playing with that kind of fire.”

T
he last time Mel had been happy was when she was a little girl, living in Japan with her mother. Somehow, Greta had given Mel a normal existence—at least, as normal as possible, given the circumstances.

“You have a great gift,” her mother had said, and though she sounded wistful and sad, there had been a spark of hope in her green eyes. “You must always fight for yourself. Even if all your fighting is done behind the scenes, prepare yourself for the day when you can break free and chase your dreams.”

Mel hadn’t understood what Greta was saying at the time, but at some point in her teens, when she finally realized that her father would never love her and that he and Itor wanted only to use her, she decided to spend her moments of control doing something for herself. Thanks to her mother, she truly believed she could be happy.

“I lost my powers, but I’m free. I always had a backup plan.”

Mel had always had a backup plan too. Which was why she’d
taken college courses when she could. Why, when she’d finally had the opportunity, she’d tried to find people who could help her.

And now she was with them. Oh, she wasn’t dumb enough to believe she was completely off the hook; they needed her, would use her, and if Phoebe pissed them off, they might kill her. But right now, she had a chance to prove herself useful.

And to breathe easy, if only for a little while.

Stryker took her to his house, which was on the outskirts of this amazing base, where people seemed so … content. Sure, they’d thrown some harsh words in her direction, but she could handle both those and the hateful looks. She understood them, but if Stryker could come around, so would they, in time.

Stryker’s house was bigger than she’d expected, and a typical bachelor pad. There were clothes draped over chairs, a few dishes in the sink, and when she wandered into the bedroom, she found the bed unmade.

Looked like he’d had a rough night. Or like he’d had a woman in there.

The thought made her queasy. All that breakfast she’d inhaled stirred in her stomach, and she rushed for the sliding glass door that led to a remarkable deck outside.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She looked out at the trees behind his house. “This is all a little overwhelming.” And she really could use a shower and a chance to brush her teeth. She watched him brace his forearms on the railing and stare out into the woods. “Do you share this house … I mean, do you have a, um, girlfriend?”

He snorted. “No. And could you maybe dial it down a little?”

For a moment, she frowned, and then she realized her power was seeping out, and a skin of frost was forming on the railing beneath her hands.

“Dammit. Sorry. I’ve never been like this.” Then again, she’d rarely been in situations that emotionally compromised her. She spent the majority of her days locked in one of Phoebe’s
residences with no contact with anyone other than the odd Itor person.

“We’ll work on it after you get a chance to eat and clean up.”

“So you’re going to be my trainer? Is there anyone else here who can work with ice? Or fire?”

He swung around to her, braced his hip on the railing, and crossed his arms over his chest. “We have some pyrokinetics, yes. But none are as powerful as Phoebe. And we don’t have anyone who can work with ice. That’s an extremely rare ability.”

“No wonder my father worked so hard to get me to come on board with Itor. Well, that and the fact that I used to be the dominant personality.”

“When was this, exactly?”

“From birth. I had complete control for twenty hours a day. Phoebe couldn’t barge in no matter what until about the eighteenth hour. There has always been a two-hour period where whoever is in control weakens, and we have to fight to stay. And then, once that period is up, the other person comes out, and they can retreat only voluntarily.”

“So what happened to make Phoebe dominant?”

She shrugged. “Itor. I told you that after my mom died, we were taken there. Once Alek figured out that I was useless to them and that Phoebe was more than willing to sell her soul, they developed the drug that allowed her more time in our body. By giving her tiny amounts, and by making my life hell so I didn’t
want
to be in control, they gradually lengthened the amount of time she was out. Took a couple of years, but eventually she was able to keep control for twelve hours without the drug. She still needs it to hold on longer, but yeah … she’s worked her way from four hours to twelve.”

“Which is why you mentioned to Dev that you wanted help getting to the point where you were in control most of the time.”

“Exactly. Because it used to be that way, and I know it can again. And,” she said with a smile, “Itor is developing some sort of weapon or device or something that can destroy a pyrokinetic’s
ability permanently. It’s meant to be used against the enemy. I only know about it because I saw some paperwork that Phoebe left out in our apartment. If ACRO can get hold of that, we could render Phoebe harmless.”

Stryker’s breath hitched. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Guilt made her skin tighten. “I probably should have. But I can’t spill everything. I trust
you
. But your people all want me dead, so I need to have some sort of insurance policy.”

“Shit.” He thrust his fingers through his hair, and then suddenly, she was in his arms and he was holding her tight. “You shouldn’t have to fear for your life in good-guy territory. This is bullshit.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I understand. Your boss has to do what’s necessary to protect his people … and pretty much the entire world.”

Stryker pulled back, just a little, so she had to look up to see his face. His palm cupped her cheek. “You’re remarkable.”

Hardly. But she didn’t argue. “Do you … do you still see the woman who killed your friend when you look at me?” Probably a stupid question, one that would totally ruin the mood, and when his eyes darkened, her heart sank.

“How’s this for an answer?” His voice was a husky murmur, his body hard as he hauled her against him and put his lips to hers.

Instantly, her body flared to life. She kissed him back, aggressively, hungrily, and she felt his surprise in the hitch in his breath. No, she wasn’t letting him take the lead this time.

Their tongues met, swirling and tangling together as his hand lifted to cup her breast. She nearly sobbed at the exquisite sensation that fired hotter when he squeezed gently while nibbling at her lower lip. Tiny, stinging bites met delicate, feathery caresses and sent curls of honeyed pleasure through her veins.

Somehow, Stryker had taken command of the kiss after all, his skilled mouth and hands distracting her from her own
goal … which had been to show him how much she wanted him. All the intimacy before had been about need in the face of danger. This was about want.

She let him know with a rolling grind of her pelvis against his. A hum of appreciation broke from his lips, and his hand dropped to the curve of her butt to press her more fully against his arousal.

“Stryker,” she murmured against his lips. “Make love to me.”

A low, throaty groan dredged up from his chest. “You want me?”

She arched against him, practically begging for it. “Yes.”

“You want my cock inside you?” His kisses drifted up her cheek to her ear. “Right here? Now?”

She shuddered with desire as his words turned to erotic pictures in her head. “God, yes.”

His mouth captured hers again, his kiss turning desperate, hot. Aching for him, she slipped her hands between their bodies and fumbled with the button on his BDUs. And then, abruptly, he pushed away with a curse. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Mel, but …”

Dazed, she stepped back awkwardly, and his hand shot out to catch her elbow. She jerked away, her unslaked lust mixing with confusion to create a caustic mood. “It’s okay to have sex with me when you need to, but not when you want to? Or maybe you don’t want to?”

Stryker tensed, becoming a wall of taut muscle as he whirled to slam his palms down on the wood railing. “Trust me,” he said hoarsely. “I want to.”

She eased up behind him and touched his shoulder. “Then why can’t you? Is it because you’re worried about what your friends will think? No one needs to know.”

“I’ll know.” Dev’s deep voice from behind her put a knot in her gut. Both she and Stryker swung around to face ACRO’s boss and another man beside him.

“Dammit, Dev,” Stryker growled. “You could have knocked.”

“And you could have answered your cell. Oh, wait—you
couldn’t, because your tongue was down Melanie’s throat.” As Mel’s face heated, Dev turned to her and gestured to the dark-haired man standing next to him. “This is Ryan Malmstrom. He was a spy inside Itor for a while, but the information he’s got is spotty. I was hoping we could ask you some questions, and between the two of you, we can get some holes filled.”

Still hot-faced and stinging with embarrassment, she agreed, and they all sat at the patio table. Stryker brought out some beers and chips and salsa, but somehow, what looked like a relaxed atmosphere … wasn’t. She felt like a mouse dining with cats. At least Stryker sat down next to her, and she slid him a grateful smile.