Taming the Fire (4 page)

These days, it was all about forcing himself to do everything. None of it was working, although he put up a hell of a good front. ACRO was running as smoothly as could be—beyond Ryan Malmstrom's MIA status, all operatives were alive and accounted for at the moment. Granted, the situation changed on a daily basis, but Dev slept better knowing the whereabouts of all of the men and women in his charge.

Still, even with that knowledge, if he got into bed now, all he would do was stare at the wall of the guest bedroom. Since Oz died, Dev hadn't moved back into the master bedroom, but he had thought more than once about razing the entire house.

Marlena, his personal assistant, advised against it gently, as was her way. For now she'd persuaded him. But on nights like tonight, he wished he could tear it down himself, brick by brick.

The clock chimed at the same time the doorbell rang and he cursed as he stubbed his toe getting to the door. He fucking tripped more now than he ever did when he was blind, although his second sight hadn't diminished when his sight came back.

A total stranger waited there on the other side of the door, impatience radiating off him even though he leaned against the door frame as if he hadn't a care in the world.

The man was take-your-fucking-breath-away good-looking, in a rugged, I'll-kill-you-if-you-look-at-me-wrong way.

Dev was pretty sure he was looking at him wrong.

How he got past security—and Dev's own second sight—was the first thing to enter Devlin's mind. In fact, the phrase
rip someone a new asshole
was at the forefront, and he reached for his cell phone to make a few calls. “Who the hell are you?”

“I'm a new recruit. The guy at the gate dropped me here.”

“What guy?” Dev growled as he dialed.

“I didn't get his name. He had dark hair. Dark eyes. Just said, ‘Devlin will be expecting you.’”

The front gate answered Dev's call before Dev could respond to the stranger. “What can we do for you, Mr. O'Malley?”

Dev could barely breathe, but he forced his voice to remain neutral. “I'd like to know who authorized a new recruit to be dropped here.”

“New recruit? Sir, that would never happen. There was a new recruit waiting here for transport, but he disappeared.”

“Well, he's reappeared. At my house.”

“We'll send someone immediately.”

“Do that.” Dev hung up so he didn't have to listen to any more of the man's excuses. “Gate security says you weren't given a ride. He says you simply disappeared.”

“Some dude drove me here. Oh, yeah, he also said to tell you that it's spring. Like you wouldn't know that or something.”

“Fuck. Me,” Dev breathed. The man with the tousled blond hair just stared at him with gunmetal-colored eyes, as if some strange, electrical current connected him to Dev. By the groin.

After midnight. Spring. Motherfucker
.

“I can't do this now,” Dev said, heard the rawness in his voice. That rawness had been there since Oz died last year. His lover had promised to send Dev someone when winter was over, and
fuck me
, winter was over.

He swore he could hear Oz's chuckle as he went to shut the door.

The man's palm slammed it back open. “Hey—fuck that. Can you just point me in the direction of the housing? Is it close to here? I don't want to get anyone in trouble.”

Fucking, fucking Oz
. “The
guy
at the gate will be reprimanded. No one gets dropped off here.”

“Maybe you could just lighten up and help me.”

“Did you just tell me to lighten up? Do you know who the fuck I am, boy?”

“Yeah, a cranky asshole. And don't ever call me
boy.”

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me, unless you're a deaf cranky asshole.
Asshole.”
The man turned to walk away but Dev yanked him around and shoved him against one of the Colonial-style columns that flanked his front door.

“I'm not just some guy who works at ACRO. I'm your fucking boss.”

“I'm supposed to be impressed by that?” The younger man's nostrils flared slightly—it wasn't because he was intimidated by Dev's title, though. This guy wasn't used to being threatened, not with physical force, and he seemed about to retaliate with his own.

“You're supposed to show some goddamned respect. I'm assuming that you came here for a job.”

“Look, I just want to get some sleep. I didn't ask to be here—I was recruited by a few of your people. Against my will. So now I'm here and I've got no place to sleep and what the hell do you want me to do?”

Dev knew exactly what he wanted the cocky boy to do… and there was no point in denying it anymore. But it wasn't going to happen. No way. “What's your name? Never mind, don't tell me, that's not important. Wait here—someone's coming to take you to the trainee quarters.”

He finally slammed the door in the young man's face and let his body sink to the ground on the other side.

T
RANCE HADN'T SLEPT
well—hadn't slept at all really, merely tossed and turned and stared at the ceiling. He could still feel the light scrape of the leather bindings on his wrists, even though he'd been long released, felt the pulsing pressure of the leather wrapped around the base of his cock.

He'd had to get himself off three times last night after he'd sent Rik safely away in a cab. Would've followed her all the way home too, but she'd have sensed that, and he couldn't afford to blow things now.

He was lucky as hell she'd agreed to see him a second time.

Still, he was going to wear his leather pants tonight. Didn't give a shit that he was supposed to be the pretty little unassuming submissive—Rik already knew he wasn't pretty or unassuming, and after last night, he was done playing around.

Kira understood Rik, maybe better than the woman understood herself. And while Trance had asked his boss to allow Kira to come along with him on the trip, Devlin had refused.

“She'd probably sense me.” Kira agreed with Dev, told Trance so the second she'd opened the door of her house last month. “I would spook her and then she'd be lost. I could talk to her, woman to woman, but until we know if the animal inside can communicate when she's in human form… well, I just can't deal with her the way you'll be able to.”

With Trance's excedo powers and better-than-average vision, he could bend a person's will. He was a sideshow hypnosis freak of nature who had to be careful of his own powers because he believed wholly in free will, never wanted to convince people to do things his way just because.

Occasionally, in his former life as an MP, it had come in handy, but honestly, it helped the prisoners more. He'd rather stop them with his mind than have to subdue the men physically.

“You're going to have to let her be the alpha for a while. That's the best way to gain her trust,” Kira had lectured him, while her husband, fellow ACRO agent and excedo, Ender, unsuccessfully tried to hold back a laugh.

Unfortunately, Ender didn't try all that hard. “Dude, you're going to have to be the submissive. You, the big bad leather daddy again.”

“I was never a leather daddy,” Trance said through clenched teeth as Ender doubled over at the idea, and Trance mentally cursed the day he ever fucking agreed to this assignment.

He also wondered when in the hell Ender got a fucking sense of humor, because last time he'd looked, the asshole seriously lacked one.

“Tommy, stop.” Kira pushed at her husband's chest. “Go—now.”

To Trance's surprise, Ender did what she asked. Probably because he was laughing too hard to contribute anything more to the conversation.

Kira had shaken her head before turning back to Trance.

“Listen, Rik needs to feel in control—that's the beast,” Kira explained. “But according to the cryptozoologists, her tribe was peaceful and nurturing, so deep down, that's who she is. Chances are, she's got a soft spot for those who are strong but not in control of themselves. It's something she understands. She doesn't like fear but she appreciates someone who needs true protection. Like a momma bear, she'll take you in if you play it right.”

“Fuck,” he'd muttered.

“You're going to have to fight every single natural instinct you've got,” Kira said. “I know how hard that's going to be for you, but the fear could actually work in your favor—”

His knee-jerk reaction was to tell Kira that he wasn't scared. His fear was actually something deeper—based on the way Kira spoke of Rik, the Dom would sense it. Her protective instincts would be fierce.

“As long as she knows you're strong, she'll respect that,” Kira continued.

Trance wondered if Rik knew what it was like to be both strong and afraid.

In his first career, he'd dealt with that combination of forces quite a bit.

When he'd first entered the Army, he hadn't cared what Military Occupational Specialty he'd be slotted for. But when it became apparent during basic training that Trance had a gift for stopping the drill instructors in their tracks and calming them with his hypnotic gaze, he'd been flagged for the law enforcement field. Following basic and twelve more weeks of specialized police instruction, he'd been assigned to Leavenworth.

While working as an MP in corrections at the prison, he'd completed most of the special tactics training and had been privy to all Special Forces training, had gone through Ranger School, done the Delta thing and BUD/s, as well as Force Recon and PJs. Any school that taught men how to escape from the enemy, Trance had learned those tricks. He was big and he was strong and most of the prisoners respected him. Those who didn't tried to fight him or were scared shitless of him.

Thing was, he didn't want Rik to be afraid of him. He told himself that he could only imagine what it must be like to have that beast living inside of her, waiting restlessly for a chance to break out, and then he called himself a liar. He knew exactly what it was like, had a similar beast inside of him—an inhuman strength that had been the bane of his existence since he was a young boy and discovered just how powerful—and lonely—his gifts left him.

He wasn't sure exactly what it was going to feel like to completely surrender to her tonight. He hoped that Rik wouldn't give him more than he could manage.

But as he sat in the club's lounge and watched her work the place while ignoring him, he started to think she was already giving him more than he could handle.

She hadn't acknowledged him once in the hour since he'd arrived, had left him in an infuriating holding pattern. And all around him, memories kept him on edge. The erotic moans coming from all sides, the sharp cracks of leather on skin, the smell of hot candle wax and sex… His stomach churned.

Watching Rik walk around in studded leather while touching other men only heightened his anxiety. He burned to take her beneath him and show her exactly why he should be in charge, but a bigger part of him knew that Rik could hold her own against him in bed, without restraints on either of them—and that part of him wanted to test his theory.

Which was seriously fucked up. She was an HVT—a high-value target—and he was playing a role. Just a role.

Of course, when she finally turned in his direction and crooked her finger at him in a come-here-now gesture, his dick led the charge, because it wasn't buying the whole it's-just-a-role thing.

Ulrika never ever saw a client twice, and yet here she was with Trance again. Granted, they hadn't finished their first session, but still. She'd sensed his strength, his utter lack of submissive genes, had known he'd be trouble. She should have ended last night's session and left it alone. Instead, she'd told him to come back. She wasn't entirely sure why she'd done that—maybe it was because she enjoyed a challenge. Maybe it was because he excited her more than she'd been excited in a long time.

Maybe she was growing stupid and soft.

She fingered the whip in her hand. No, not soft. Definitely not soft.

Then again, last night's incident in the alley filled her with doubt. Robert's attack had left her prowling her flat all night long, afraid to sleep. Itor hadn't given her the usual agent training, which included evasive techniques and combat instruction. They hadn't wanted her to either defend or take care of herself should she escape. Though she'd been surprised at her resourcefulness when it came to survival, she cursed her inability to effectively defend herself in a life-threatening situation. Her only means of self-defense was the beast, which she couldn't control.