Underground 4 (21 page)

“I'm sorry, Phoenix,” he said as he kissed her softly along her jawline.

She sighed, stretching her neck, giving him more access.

“For what?” she urged.

He continued to torture her with his slow, light kisses. Gone was the demanding Trent, in his place instead was a gentle, loving Trent that was just as dangerous to her resolve.

“For snapping at you and making you feel disrespected,” he answered.

Unwanted tears burned her eyes. She hated to cry, but to hear him say those words hit a soft spot in her. The place where all she wanted was him to see her as more than just a mouthy, sarcastic trouble maker.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

She turned her head away, embarrassed. He stopped, his hand gently forcing her face to him. Leaning down, he dropped a kiss on each of her closed eyelids. “I'm sorry, Phoenix,” he said again. “Don't be upset, sweetheart. I think you're an amazing woman, with more strength than anyone else I know - even me. Never doubt that.”

She opened her eyes to stare into his.

“I know I can be an ass,” he said. “I'll try not to be, I swear.”

Her lips twitched. “Is that even possible?”

He smiled back. “I don't know, but I can try.”

She took a deep breath, running her hands across his shoulders. “Okay,” she said.

“Okay?”

She nodded. “Now stop being so nice and fuck me.”

He chuckled darkly. “Yes ma'am.”

Trent looked down at her, his gaze soaking in every delicate feature as Phoenix slept next to him. Her short hair was a mess, her lips swollen from his kisses, and her cheeks still rosy from the multiple climaxes he'd given her. She was the most beautiful women he'd ever had the pleasure of being next to.

The memory of her moans and pleas as he'd taken her from behind still rang through his head. The image of her riding him after, her long neck arched back, her teeth biting at her bottom lip - that picture would never leave his mind.

He felt content for the first time in days. Having Phoenix mad at him had driven him nuts. He hadn't been lying when he'd given her his apology. He knew that he could be an ass most of the time, it was the way he'd always been. As the older McKay, it had always been Trent's job to keep everyone in line.

Pete was the hothead, Garrett the joker, and Michael the primarily absentminded father. He couldn't even remember how it had been when their mother was around. So who did that leave to be the responsible one? Him. Being an ass was just part of the job sometimes.

But he didn't want to be one with Phoenix. Not anymore. Their bantering was one thing, he enjoyed that. Phoenix was quick and sarcastic, and challenged him. He didn't want to ever insult her though, not when she looked so sad and teared up like she had before. That had nearly broken his heart.

What did he want when it came to her? Trent wasn't sure. Would it be possible for them to have a real relationship? Was he just considering that because he saw how happy the others were who had found love? He didn't think so. Trent had never been the type to want something just because someone else had it.

No, he had just gotten to a point in his life where sharing a bed and life with someone else was appealing to him. He looked back down at Phoenix. For some reason, picturing doing that with anyone else just didn't feel as right as it did with her.

Trent could still remember the first time he'd met her. She'd been posing as a hooker out in the streets, and had given him all that attitude right off the bat. He smiled just thinking of it. Even from the beginning she was a little shit.

And he wouldn't have had it any other way. But he also knew Phoenix wasn't the type to settle down. She didn't talk about relationships or even seem to care for them. She was so independent and confident, he wondered if she would ever want to finally settle down and put some of her trust into someone else.

How could he convince her to give him a shot? Was it just a waste of time to even try? Maybe he was better to just accept what she would give him, and not complain. At least he had her in his arms.

“Why are you watching me?” she murmured sleepily. Her eyes remained closed.

“Because you're pretty when you're not talking,” he replied, smiling.

Her eyes popped open, her mouth dropping into a cute “O” as she smacked his chest. He chuckled, blocking her next blow. Gripping her wrist, he rolled them until he had her pinned against the bed.

“I'm kidding,” he said, leaning down to kiss her slowly, soaking in the feel and taste of her. There was something about Phoenix that made him think he'd never get enough.

When he finally pulled up to look down at her, she had her lips pursed, trying her best not to smile.

“You're such an ass,” she said.

He laughed, moving down her body to place kisses in all the spots that drove him crazy. Which was everywhere. There wasn't an inch of Phoenix he didn't obsess about. Having a taste of her was either the worst thing he’d ever done, or the best, because now he knew what he'd be missing if they ever stopped.

“You love it,” he said against her skin. He felt her stiffen for a moment before her hands raked through his hair.

Spreading her thighs, he entered her slowly, rocking into her tight heat. Phoenix moaned, her nails scraping down his back, gripping his bare ass. He set a slow, languid pace, keeping both of them just on the edge, but never letting them fall over.

“Don't stop,” Phoenix groaned.

“I don't want to,” he said, meaning more than what she thought. Pushing her legs further apart, he started to pick up his pace, slamming into her with every thrust. With one hand he circled her bundle of nerves, his eyes never leaving her face as she cried out in pleasure. Phoenix in the throes of passion was one of the most captivating sights.

Her inner walls tightened around him as she climaxed, milking him so that he followed after her. He collapsed, burying his face in her neck. She might not want this forever, he thought, but damn if he wasn't going to soak up every second she did want him.

It might make it harder when she decided to end things, but it was worth it. She was worth all of it. Trent didn't know at what point things had changed for him, all he knew was that there was no going back now. No other woman was going to capture him the way Phoenix did. He was lost.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Seamus walked into headquarters, his head a mess. Garrett was a fucking idiot. McKay was going to have a shit fit when he found out that he had let his little brother go inside the damn Community Center. Not that he'd had much of a choice. The man was still a McKay after all, even if he was the easier going out of the three.

What was Seamus supposed to do? Two other guards had come by and told Seamus his shift was over and he was to get back to HQ. By the time Seamus had looked back around to continue arguing with Garrett, the idiot had already slipped through the side door.

Now he had to get back to the house and call the others. There was no way he was going to the Outlands until Garrett got out. If, Garrett got out. He was going to have to leave Lake a note too, letting her know things had changed.

Things just got super fucked up in the matter of an afternoon. Figures, he thought miserably. That seemed to be how it always went around the lot of them. With the night time now descending, there wasn't much he could do besides get some rest and figure out a way to get back to the house tomorrow.

Heading to the fourth floor, he walked into Charlotte's old room, figuring he'd crash at HQ for the night. Normally he'd just go back to the house, but he was beat. Charlotte and Bridgette had both stayed in this room, so for some reason that made him feel more comfortable staying there too, rather than one of the other empty ones.

The room itself was pretty bare. As far as he could tell, Charlotte hadn't accumulated much over the five years she'd lived there. Pulling off his vest, he dropped it in the corner, toeing off his boots in the process. He walked into the small bathroom, starting up the shower so it could heat while he got undressed.

Going back out to the bedroom, he yanked his shirt over his head just as he heard the door open. One hand flew to the piece still tucked in his waistband as he threw the shirt on the floor with the other.

He raised his gun, freezing there as he met a wide pair of shocked eyes. Eyes that were violet - the most vivid, interesting colour he'd ever seen. The woman didn't move as those eyes roamed his bare chest before lifting to the gun pointing at her and then meeting his gaze.

This was not the type of woman he was used to dealing with. Seamus could tell that much right away, just from looking at her. Dressed in a slim black skirt that hit beneath her knees, and a loose white blouse, her neck and wrists were decorated with fine jewelry, as were her ears. Her lips were the same scarlet shade of red as her stiletto heels. Sleek, angled short golden hair framed a tanned face.

Everything about her reeked of money. Who was she? They stared at each other in silence, both sizing up the other. Seamus wondered how he must look to her.

Slowly he lowered the gun. That seemed to shake her out of her stupor. She blinked a couple of times before finally speaking.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked.

Seamus cocked a brow. “I should ask you the same.”

For a moment she looked as though she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't. Quickly though she schooled her features, narrowing her eyes challengingly.

“This is Weapon X's room,” she said.

“Correction, was,” he said. “And if you know that then you shouldn't be here either.”

Again she seemed to contemplate how to explain her presence. He doubted he'd get an explanation.

“Who are you?” she asked, shifting from foot to foot. He didn't miss how her eyes quickly fell back to his bare chest before lifting to his again. A light blush coloured her cheeks.

Seamus fought back a smile. He was putting her on edge, and for some reason that made him really happy.

“I'm a soldier, clearly,” he said with a smirk, shoving the gun back into his pants.

“What's your name?”

“Seamus,” he answered without hesitation. It was probably smarter to make up a fake name, but for some reason he wanted her to know his real one. “What's your name?”

She paused before answering. “Eve.”

“Eve,” he repeated, rolling the sound over his tongue. She smiled a small, almost embarrassed smile that had his blood rushing.

Well I'll be damned, he thought.

The fever was getting worse. Thankfully the soldiers had actually provided the survivors with water, but Stella could barely get Mr. Samson to swallow any. He was in bad shape and she was at a lost as to what to do.

No one asked the rebels what was happening, or how the negotiations were going, because everyone was too scared to do much else but cower against the walls. Even Stella was too terrified to leave her spot behind the tables. No matter how much she wanted to scream at them, or cry out for her parents, she couldn't find the will to do it.

When the soldiers started to remove the dead she had gripped the edge of the table, her eyes the only thing showing above the tables as she watched in horror. Was her family one of the lifeless bodies being callously dragged across the floor like nothing but trash?

It made her sick. There was too much blood to really see the faces, and some bodies were too far for her to even tell what clothes they wore.

All she could do now was hope that they were alive, despite what she'd been told. There was an empty feeling in what felt like her soul though, as if deep down on some innate level she knew she was now alone in this world.

All those who had been connected to her by blood were no longer there. Her brain refused to accept it though, wanting to believe that when this was over, they'd be searching for her and the four of them would return to their loving home.

For now she focused on helping Mr. Samson the best she could. Whether her family was alive or not, she was still all he had, and that meant she couldn't fail him. She wouldn't. Stella might not be a doctor, but she'd learn whatever she had to in order to make sure the man beside her lived through this.