The Burn (12 page)

He led her through thumping camps and between parked cars, somehow emerging by the steps of his RV a few minutes later. Fishing the keys out of his pocket, he unlocked the vehicle and ushered her inside, locking the door behind them. She glanced out the windshield, searching for anyone who might have followed. She saw no one. Looking back at Seth, she found him standing in the center of the room, his hands propped on his hips as he studied her.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"No. Thank you."

"I'm good with omelets, less so with sunny-side-up."

"I'm not hungry."

He frowned, as if the answer disappointed him.

"You need to leave this desert."

He sighed, considering the dust on the inside of his palms. "Actually, I need a shower. I spent some part of the morning under the RV. I didn't think anything of it when I was out looking for you, but now that you're found, it's getting harder to ignore."

She shook her head. "You're stalling."

He granted her a tired smile.

"We had the same tactic in FBI. Take more time. Slow down. Put the victim at ease. Make them feel safe. Convince them that you know what's best for them."

"Did you ever take a shower with them in the next room?" he asked, sliding his cowboy hat from his hair and tossing it onto the couch. "Because I think that's original."

She held his gaze for a moment. "You do this well. You react, but you never overreact, never treat me like I'm broken beyond repair."

"Because you're not broken beyond repair."

"How can you think that? I've told you what happened. I bled to death on this playa, Seth, exactly one year ago. Since it's obvious you don't believe me, how can you not think that I'm insane?"

He kicked off his boots, giving a half-shake of his head. "This isn't about sanity. You're as sane as your situation has allowed you to be."

"Last night, you saw the blood."

He ducked behind the bathroom door, loosing a stream of water from the shower faucet with a screech of pipes. "I'm not certain what I saw," he said above the noise. "Other than a piece of the nightmare you've been forced to live."

"The nightmare," she repeated, realizing that there was no way to make him understand.

Steam began to rise from behind the open bathroom door, swirling hot in the confined space. She saw slices of Seth caught in the mirrors above the tiny sink, his broad shoulders bare, the thick circlet of his bicep tattoo dark against the tanned skin of his arm. He disappeared behind the white shower curtain with a scrape of metal hangers.

Almost disappeared.

She frowned, focusing on the calculated gap he had left between the curtain and the wall. He glanced back at her through it, his gaze seeking hers in the reflection. Whether he had intended to simply check her presence in the room, or issue an invitation, was unclear. Miranda felt her lips part, the lush smell of steam and soap permeating the air.

They were safe in the RV, she knew. After all, this what the Necromancer wanted, what he claimed she couldn't resist. She was supposed to take Seth as her lover, use him and draw him into whatever trap had been set.

She pressed her lips together, considering the reflection of the man caught in the mirror. The pitch of falling water changed as he moved under its hot stream, allowing it to pour between his shoulders and down his back as he roughly lathered soap into his hair. He shot another intent look in her direction, sparking a memory of those large hands pressed against her, stroking along her skin. Her breath seemed to burn away in her throat.

She couldn't remember ever suffering with desire, but it was different now. She was different. The Necromancer's insight proved accurate. Even as she struggled to think of a way to get Seth off the playa, she couldn't help but stare at him, her gaze fixed. She pressed her lips together, watching him duck under the spray of water from the showerhead, his black hair flowing thick to his shoulders.

The sight of him invoked something pure, raw, and carnal, the memory of the pleasure he had given her now dizzying. She could feel her pulse quicken, her mouth suddenly dry, the skin of her palms slick with sweat.

It had been so good with him, beyond anything she had experienced in her mortal life, and the ghost she had become couldn't turn away from it now, couldn't let it go. She wanted to draw that strength from him again, to feel the thick energy of his soul reforming her with its touch.

A shudder passed through her.

If intimacy can be used to draw him into a trap, then it can also be used to draw him out of one. It can be used to save his life.

She walked forward, stepping into the wet embrace of steam. Unwinding the delicate mesh and braids of her dress, she heard them fall to the floor with a soft jingle. Only her arm bands remained, their red jewels glinting darkly.

Seth looked up, catching sight of her as she reached for the curtain. A look of satisfaction glowed in the gold depths of his eyes, water glistening from his black lashes, glossing the thick length of his hair.

He was incredible looking, strong and powerfully built.

"I want you more now than before," she said, an edge sharpening her tone. "I want to feel what you feel, what you are, everything that you offer me. I can't fight it and I can't ignore it. I don't want to."

"You don't have to," he replied, reaching out to stroke her cheek with wet fingers. "I'm yours, Miranda. I can be as gentle as you need me to be."

"I don't want you to be gentle," she replied harshly. "I don't want your restraint. I want to feel how strong you are, how alive you are. I need to feel it."

He watched her from under half-closed lids, the warm hazel of his eyes lit with arousal.

"Make me feel it," she whispered.

"My pleasure."

He slid his hands around her naked waist and lifting her against him. His kiss was hot and possessive, the burn of steaming water spilling down his cheek, searing the contact of their lips and tongues. He pulled her closer, sliding her against the ridged plane of his stomach, his cock jutting hard and thick between them. She made a raw sound in her throat.

Seth raised her higher and turned under the shower of water, pressing her forcefully up against the wall. Miranda gasped, pinned by his muscular weight.

"Yes," she whispered. "Like this."

"Like this," he repeated, his breath hot against her ear.

She grabbed onto his arms, feeling his biceps flex under her fingers. Her head fell back to the wall, her hair heavy with water, her naked body arched against his. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He slid his hands under her hips and lifted her higher, his teeth clenched and his body held taut. He watched her expression as he positioned them, then carefully slid her down on his cock.

Miranda caught her breath, feeling him stretch the tight skin of her sheath. He pushed deeper, pulling out and thrusting until he had sunk his entire length inside her.

She gave a soft groan, closing her arms around his neck, feeling the slick brush of his hair against her cheek. He drew back slightly, allowing the spill of water from the showerhead to course between them, slipping hot over her breasts and pouring over her clit as he penetrated deep.

"God," she rasped, lost in the feel of him sliding inside her, his thrusts pushing her roughly back against the plastic wall of the shower stall. His hands gripped her, his strong arms held tight, his teeth bared under the sensual turn of his lips. The water pelted her budded nipples, running trails of fire between her legs. She arched her back, digging her nails into the skin of his shoulders. He hissed, ramming his cock into her.

She cried out as an intense orgasm swelled and broke inside her, flooding heat and pleasure through her veins. He didn’t stop, his hands crushing her against his hips, his long erection stroking deep, drawing out the feeling.

Her head fell back, her grip on him easing as her limbs lost their strength. He slowed, then pulled himself from her body and lowered her into a kiss, the caress of his lips still rough and hungered.

Reaching behind her, he closed the faucet.

She stood in his arms, her body flush with the release he had given, his breath a harsh whisper in her ear.

Beads of water formed like diamonds on their skin, pooling where they touched, streaking down between the close press of their bodies. Miranda looked up into the richness of his eyes, finding them warm with intent.

"You didn't finish," she said, spreading her hands against the muscle of his arms.

"No," he admitted, the corner of his mouth hinting at a smile. "But I will."

* * *

He carried her into the small bedroom, lowering himself on top of her as they fell together on the old mattress. The heat in the room was stifling, sunlight glowing in the dust covering the closed windows. The sheets underneath her carried the scent of long afternoons, of time passing in the warmth.

Seth kissed her breast, his mouth open on her skin, drawing the water with his tongue. His hands slid under her back, arching her toward him as he sucked on the tight bud of her nipple, teasing and devouring.

Miranda closed her eyes, running her hands into the cool wealth of his hair, feeling the wet tendrils slide through her fingers. Clasping onto them gently, she urged him lower, guiding his mouth to the swollen pink skin between her legs.

A rough purr slipped under his breath. He nudged her, his mouth finding the sensitive folds and drinking the water from them. He rolled her clit under his tongue, taking it into his mouth and teasing it. She gave a harsh cry, the muscles in her stomach tensed and coiled, her legs spread wide, her heels digging into the mattress.

He drew back, his strong hands closing on her waist, rolling her onto her stomach with languid ease. She looked back, but he was behind her, positioned slightly out of sight.

She heard the foil rip of a condom packet, the slick roll of plastic. She wet her lips, feeling him come back to her and lower his head to the soft curve of her rump. He rubbed his hands over the cheeks of her buttocks, spreading them wide for the taste of his mouth. He kissed her, his breath hot and wet, drawing sensation from the skin.

Then he was over her, his hard cock sliding into her, her body welcoming the squeeze. Miranda pushed against him in ecstasy, her hips rolling and her fists tightening in the damp sheets.

He drew it out, keeping a languid rhythm, the water on his skin drying in the heat, replaced by a cool sheen of sweat. She skimmed the edge of orgasm over and over again, her body strung with sensation, yearning for completion.

Seth reached down and slid his fingers over her clit. She gasped as he rubbed the tender skin, his touch wet and warm, too much to bear. She came with harsh sound, her body shuddering. The feeling kept her in its grip, blinded, flush and gasping for air as he finished.

Seth growled softly, pushing hard into her with his own release, his hands spread over her hips. They remained locked together, drifting in sensation as the world cooled.

"Beautiful," he said softly, stroking his hand over her back, smoothing the damp hair from her cheek. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

She closed her eyes, his heartfelt murmur sinking like so many hollow words in her stomach. She could offer him nothing in return. She was nothing, a spirit trapped between worlds, a member of the 'middle species'.

He withdrew gently. Then he pulled her back into his arms and stretched out on the bed. Reaching up, he cracked the window open. The soft breeze of the desert slipped into the heat of the room, carrying the sound of music and laughter from the playa.

His breathing turned slow and even. He slept. She nestled into the crook of his arm and tried to shut out the whispers of the Gate, the promise that his destiny had already been written in blood, as a timeless symbol on a golden wall.

M
iranda woke to the soft flutter of curtains. She drew a breath, splaying her fingers on Seth's chest. His face was turned away from her, his hair a dark halo on the pillow, one arm wrapped around her in sleep. Dust motes drifted through shafts of sunlight above the bed.

Lifting her hand, she turned her fingers toward the light until they glowed, staring at the shadow of bone hidden in the flesh. It only looked real. She only looked real. Her actual body, her actual bones, lay somewhere else.

Miranda closed her hand into a fist, a chill of warning seeping under her skin. The Gate called to her, ominous whispers threading tenderly on the breeze. Glancing up at the sunlight pouring through the windows, she pressed her lips together, recognizing the golden hue of afternoon. There wasn't much time.

She smoothed her fingers along Seth's skin, feeling the rise and fall of his chest under her hand, the strong rhythm of his heart. He had made her feel so much, his emotion, his hunger, his release and now this…this closeness.

For a moment, her heart ached with it.

"I can't let you stay," she whispered. "They want you too much… I want you too much."

He responded with a lazy stroke of his hand across her back, a soothing murmur from the softness of the bed.

"Miranda," he whispered sleepily. "You awake, baby girl?"

"You have to go now."

He opened his eyes, his gaze finding her beside him. His expression warmed. He seemed pleased by her nakedness, by the way her hair fell wild over her shoulders, glowing like bright copper in the sunlight. Catching a curling strand of it between his fingers, he smiled.

"You have to go," she reminded him.

He shook his head. "The only way to get me out of this desert is to come with me. It's not happening any other way."

She held his gaze, prepared for what she had to do, knowing that it was going devastate him. And yet, what choice did she have?

"I know," she heard herself say. "Take me out of here, Seth. Get me as far away as you can."

"With pleasure," he murmured. Pushing up from the bed, he cupped her chin in one hand and kissed her mouth, her temple, then her hair, whispering against the skin above her ear. "You made the right choice, Miranda. You won't regret trusting me, leaving with me."