Taken by Fire (30 page)

“Bastard!” Phoebe slapped him, raking her nails across his
face and leaving bloody scratches. “I’m going to make you and Mel suffer. And I’m going to kill Dev if it’s the last thing I do.”

“You kill Dev and it
will
be the last thing you do.”

She leaned over, tongued the blood streaming down his face. “I’m fine with that.” She rode him hard, letting his hatred fuel her lust. His thick shaft scraped sensitive tissue, and fuck yeah, she’d bet Melanie was enjoying his cock on a regular basis, the bitch. How was it fair that Mel, the useless, weak twin, the one who had done nothing to make her mark on the world, could land a sculpted, hot piece of meat like Stryker? Sure, Phoebe got hot men—and women—all the time. But they were just fucks. Whether they were one-offs or regular lays, they were nothing but booty calls.

Somehow, idiot Melanie had gotten herself a powerful ACRO agent who looked like a god and had a dick to match. And he cared about her.

Man, Phoebe hated that bitch.

The hatred burned in her veins, heating her all the way to her core. Planting her palms on Stryker’s chest for leverage, she lifted her hips until the head of him nearly came free of her sex, and then she impaled herself deep, rocking her clit against his pubic bone. His entire body went taut, his lips peeled back from his teeth, and she knew he wanted to kill her.

So. Fucking. Hot.

She repeated the lift-plunge-rock routine until her orgasm hovered within reach. She wanted to take it, wanted to enjoy what promised to be an awesome climax made better by the fact that Stryker would have to watch how his own dick had given pleasure to a woman he hated.

“Remember this,” she moaned. “Remember how it was my juices that were dripping down your cock. Not Mel’s. Mine. And when she’s panting through her climax, remember that the orgasm is
mine.
”

“You crazy bitch. What the fuck are you talking about?”

She flattened herself on top of him, still rocking to keep the climax right there. Pleasure rippled through her, pre-orgasm contractions that made her gasp. Quickly, as she went over the edge, she pushed the button that released him from the cuffs, and then she retreated inside the brain she shared with Mel, finally letting her sister come to consciousness.

She smiled as she went, loving the orgasm, loving Stryker’s enraged roar, loving the fact that she’d just ruined her sister’s life.

“O
h, yes …” Mel gasped as an intense orgasm racked her body, even as her body was flipped, her wrists pinned roughly, and the air squashed out of her lungs. Stryker came down hard on top of her, and she felt his cock sliding from her wet core.

Confusion muddled her thoughts, the climax still rocking her, some sort of amazing high making her body tingle.

“S-Stryker?”

His head snapped back as if he’d been slapped, his eyes going wide with shock. “Mel?”

“Mmm …” She couldn’t catch her breath. Oh, she loved making love to him. He always knew exactly … wait. She shook her head in a desperate attempt to dislodge the cobwebs.

“Mel. Shit!” He rolled off her, tucking his glistening—and still hard—cock in his pants.

What
 … oh, God
. He hadn’t been making love to her. He’d been fucking Phoebe. A massive fissure split her heart wide open, and pain spilled through the opening, twisting her insides and turning her stomach inside out. She scrambled off the bed … she was naked. Stryker was staring at her in horror, and yeah, she just bet he was.

“You asshole!” She didn’t hesitate. Her fist flew out and caught him in the same cheek that bore scratches, because yeah, Phoebe liked it rough. And so did Stryker.

His head snapped back because he’d been struck, but otherwise, he remained still. “Mel, it’s not what you think.”

“No? Was your dick inside Phoebe? Then I think it’s what I think. You son of a bitch!” Unable to stay for one more second in the room, she fled. She didn’t know where she was going, didn’t care. She just needed to be away from him.

Too bad she couldn’t outrun herself.

How could he? How could he have—

She skidded to a halt in the kitchen, her lungs seizing, her mind jittery with what she now recognized as a cocaine high. There was a note on the counter, written in Phoebe’s elegant script, sitting on top of her college texts.

I contacted your college’s dean and told them I was you. Said that my guilt over cheating on several of my exams was overwhelming. Guess what, you little whore? You’ve been kicked out
.

Mel’s knees buckled, and she barely caught herself on the counter before she went down. And then … oh, no.
No, no, no!

Her mother’s ring, the only thing she had left of their mother, the only possession Mel owned for herself, was a melted, twisted lump of gold next to the books.

Phoebe had taken everything from her. The man she loved, her fantasy degree, and her only link to their mother.

The pain in her chest turned to a hollow, cold, empty space as she reached numbly for one of the knives in the wood block on the counter. She wasn’t even sure what she intended to do with it, but her drugged and emotionally overloaded brain was no longer rational.

“Mel!” Stryker’s voice came from behind her. She loved the way he talked, the deep, resonating rumble. When he was making love, it went even deeper, breathless. Had he used that seductive voice on Phoebe?

Slowly, she turned around. “She’s taken everything from me,” she whispered. “There’s nothing left.”

Stryker, bare-chested and pants still partially unzipped, held up his hands in a placating gesture. His voice was low, soothing,
like a police negotiator trying to talk someone off a ledge. “You have me. Just put down the knife.”

“You were fucking my sister!” she screamed. “For what? More information about Itor? For kicks? I know you hate her, but maybe you were punishing her? Maybe she used her powers and got you all worked up?” God, she wanted to throw up. She wanted Phoebe to die, and she put the knife to her throat.

“That’s not what happened. Please, Mel, put the knife down. You don’t need to do this.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about killing myself. It’s about killing her. Finally, for once, I’m going to take something from her, the way she’s taken everything from me.”

“She didn’t take me away from you.” He tilted his wrists to show her the bleeding, raw circles around them. “Go look at the bed. She cuffed me. She shoved some sort of drug down my throat to make me hard. She forced herself on me, Mel. I swear to you, I didn’t want it. I swear, I wouldn’t have come. She couldn’t have made me do that.”

Horror replaced the anger inside her, and the nausea that threatened a moment ago became a reality. Dropping the blade, she dove for the sink and fought to keep her lunch down. Phoebe had raped him. Dear, sweet God, could this get any worse? Could her sister possibly be more vile?

Stryker’s hand came down on her hair and gathered it back, and with his other hand, he stroked her back gently. How could he possibly be so nice to her after what had been done to him? And after she’d thought the worst of him.

“I’m sorry,” she rasped. “I’m so sorry.”

He started the water, wet a paper towel, and eased her away from the sink to wipe her mouth. “It’s not your fault.”

“If I’d been stronger, if I’d just fought to come out sooner—”

“Shh.” He pressed his finger to her lips. “We’re not going to play that. We won, okay? She didn’t get what she wanted.”

Mel blinked, but that didn’t stop the tears from spilling.
Stryker gathered her against him and held her tight. “I can’t do this anymore.” She clung to him, but this would be the last time. “I—I thought we could work around her. I thought we could be together, and I could have some semblance of normalcy.”

“You can. Once we’re back at ACRO—”

“No.” Inhaling deeply, she prepared herself for what had to be said. And done. “When we get back, you’re going to lock me up and throw away the key.”

Stryker went taut. “I can’t do that.”

“You can, and you will. Phoebe will never stop trying to hurt you and everyone around you. I can’t be responsible for that. You forgave me for what happened to Akbar, but our relationship can’t survive another death.” She pulled away, and her heart pounded against her rib cage in protest. “For what it’s worth, you’ve given me the happiest days of my life. You probably don’t want to hear this, but … I love you.”

“Mel …” Stryker’s throat worked on a hard swallow. “I won’t let you do this. We can work it out. I know we can.”

He didn’t say he loved her back. Not that she’d expected him to. How could he love someone who was basically the same person who murdered his friend and violated him? And even if he could, she wasn’t going to put him or anyone else at risk from Phoebe.

“My mind is made up.” Closing her eyes, she turned away. “But promise me that if, somehow, Phoebe ever tries to hurt you or anyone else, you won’t hold back because of me.”

“Mel—”

“Promise me! Kill her, Stryker. If she hurts anyone, kill her, or I swear to you, I will.”

Silence stretched, and for a long time, she didn’t think he’d answer. When he did, his voice was broken. “Damn you,” he said gruffly. “Damn you for making me do this.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yeah.”

Relief made her entire body sag. Stryker caught her, and as he hauled her to him, he put his mouth to her ear. “I’m going to wait for you to change your mind.”

She didn’t say it, but he had to know.

She would never change her mind.

T
he marks around Stryker’s wrists and ankles would heal quickly. The memories of Phoebe taking him against his will, not so much, but the fact that Mel was pulling back from him because of it made him furious.

The Mel who made him promise to kill her was uncompromising. Unafraid.

God, he loved her. Knew it with all his heart … and still couldn’t tell her so.

The most frustrating part was, he didn’t know why.

“You don’t need to atone for her sins,” he told her fiercely, the promise he’d just made to her burning a hole in his gut.

She pulled out of his embrace, grabbed a blanket off the back of the sofa, and wrapped it around her naked body, hiding it from his view. “Unfortunately, I do.”

“So you’re just going to give up on having a life of your own? You’re giving up on us? Don’t you realize that you’re doing to yourself what your father did to you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“With the food—how your father and Phoebe starved you for years. You’re going to stop yourself from being with me—you’re going to let them win, dammit. They want you to be unhappy and you’re letting them.”

“I can’t let Phoebe hurt you again. I’m keeping you safe,” she said stubbornly.

“You’re not keeping me safe at all, Mel. This, what’s happening between us, it was supposed to happen this way. It’s not some goddamned coincidence.”

“You were hunting me,” she pointed out.

“I was hunting Phoebe,” he corrected her. “I didn’t believe you existed. And try as you might, you can’t fight fate. Trust me. I tried.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, wondered if he should’ve told her this before. Wondered if it would’ve made any goddamned difference—if it would now. “Oz made a prediction to me a long time ago.”

“Wait, Oz? Have I met him?”

“No. He was Dev’s partner for a long time. And Creed’s brother—the guy with all the tats you saw in the cafeteria the other day?” She nodded and he continued. “Oz was killed a little while ago. He sacrificed himself to save Dev’s life. Before that, he was an integral part of ACRO. And he was kind of … freaky. He had this thing he called the spirit posse—he could communicate with the dead; he was psychic and he made a lot of predictions.”

She looked slightly skeptical, but she was also part of the world of secret agents, so she wouldn’t be in total disbelief. “Did his predictions always come true?”

“Oz was always right.” The man had passed his predictions on matter-of-factly, but they were never given in haste or lightly. Stryker was pretty sure there was a lot more Oz knew but never let on.

But the virgin thing … well, Stryker guessed that was Oz’s way of letting him know that control would be important in more ways than one.

And he’d blown it the first time he’d been with Mel. He looked at her now, thought about the first time he’d had sex with her, her words to him.

Funny … but I always thought my first time might be more … well, not hateful
.

The thing was, even if he’d known, he wasn’t sure it would’ve been different that time. Couldn’t have been. He still
wouldn’t have been able to look her in the eye then. But things were different now. And Mel was threatening to take it away.

“What was the prediction, exactly—about us?” She asked hesitantly, as if she didn’t want to hear anything that might change her mind about keeping them apart.

That was his goal and he prayed it would work. “He said I’d marry a virgin. I told him he was off his rocker. And then, when we had sex … Christ, you told me it was your first time.”

Her eyes widened at the memory.

“I was so goddamned rough with you.” He stared at the floor. “I was an asshole.”

Mel walked over to him then, touched his cheek, made him look her in the eye. “You weren’t gentle, no, but it was good, Stryker. Really.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better.” Stryker shook his head.

“What’s the big deal about virgins?”

“They’re a lot of work … need a lot of handling. I always went for the more experienced women because I don’t have that kind of patience. I didn’t anyway. You changed all of that.”

“Why did you wait to tell me this?” she asked, after a moment of hesitation.

“I don’t know. It’s a little freaky. And I didn’t want you to think that it was only happening because of what Oz said.”

Just because it’s fated doesn’t mean it’s not real
, Oz would say.
It’s actually just the opposite
.

“I think I would’ve liked Oz,” she said, stroking Stryker’s reddened wrist with her thumb. “So, my brother lost the love of his life.”