Blaze of Secrets (Asylums for Magical Threats) (21 page)

No, Kiarra needed to go back to an AMT compound—at least until the nullification formula had a

99.9% success rate. After fifteen years inside the AMT, her life was in jeopardy as long as she remained on the outside. By tracking her down, Gio would help send her back to safety.

Her signal vanished from his computer screen and Gio jotted down her last known location.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The alcohol in Kiarra’s blood was making her bold. When Jaxton had told her that she’d be awful at

seducing someone, she’d not only wanted an excuse to block out Ty and her past, but she’d felt the urge to prove him wrong. He had a problem with assuming he was always the wiser, always right.

Not this time.

Kiarra ran a hand up Jaxton’s chest and around his neck, resting her fingers at his nape. She leaned in to the heat of his body and whispered, “Is that a challenge?”

She heard his breath catch, and Kiarra smiled. For once, Jaxton had nothing to say.

This close to his neck, she could smell the uniquely male scent that was Jaxton. On impulse, she licked

his earlobe. She liked the taste of his skin, but before she could do it again, Jaxton took hold of her

shoulders and pulled her far enough away that she could see his face.

His eyes were half-lidded and dilated, and she shivered at the look. “Pet, if you know what’s good for

you, you’ll walk away and go up to bed right this instant.”

She knew under normal circumstances, when she was not fired up from their argument or under the

influence of alcohol, she probably would flee to the safety of her room, where she’d only be able to touch Jaxton in her dreams. But she was tired of fighting the responses of her body, tired of resisting him, tired of not making new memories to replace the old.

This was her chance to make an adult decision and take what she wanted.

She leaned into Jaxton’s body until her stomach pressed against his erection, and she smiled at the

contact. Rather than feeling uneasy, the hardness made her lower belly clench tight in need. Her skin was on fire, making her clothes seem stifling.

She wanted to feel the warmth of Jaxton’s skin on hers as reassurance that this wasn’t a dream.

She shifted her hips and tilted her head back, threaded her fingers through Jaxton’s hair, and brought

his face closer to hers. She stared into his green-gold eyes, his breathing fast and hot on her face, and wondered what it would take for him to make a move. She dared to wriggle her hips again and he groaned

at the friction, the sound sending a rush of warmth between her legs.

His response empowered her. She wanted to play.

She leaned forward until the tight buds of her nipples grazed his chest. She resisted rubbing against him and said, “What, you’re not going to order me to go upstairs and go to bed?”

Indecision flashed across his face, and Kiarra decided she wasn’t having it. She’d take her own

pleasure, inviting him to join in.

She brushed her hard nipples back and forth against his chest, pleasure shooting though her body with

each pass, her panties damp with need. When she finally groaned, Jaxton grabbed her waist and pulled her flush up against him, his heat surrounding her like a blanket.

He lowered his head, his lips a hairbreadth away. “You play with fire, pet, you’re going to get burned.”

She lightly scraped her nails against the back of his neck. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m immune to fire, now isn’t it?”

Jaxton ran a hand up her back, to cup her head. “We’ll see about that.”

And he kissed her.

He’d tried to send her away, but then the bloody minx had started rubbing against his cock, taunting

him. Even when he’d offered her a second chance to back out, she’d started rubbing her nipples across his chest. When she started groaning in pleasure, Jaxton’s resolve had shattered, and he kissed her.

And Kiarra was kissing him back.

He sucked her bottom lip before darting his tongue out to the seam of her lips, probing for permission.

He willed her to open, wanting to taste her. After the longest second of his life, Kiarra opened her mouth and accepted his tongue.

He plunged his tongue into her mouth and stroked it against hers, reveling in the heady mixture of

Kiarra and whatever she had drunk at the pub. He tilted her head for more access, and Kiarra finally tangled her tongue with his before sucking it deeper into her mouth. He felt the vibrations of her groan, and

suddenly kissing her wasn’t enough. He grabbed her arse with his free hand, as full and plump as he’d

imagined, and started kneading her cheeks. He gave her a slap and took further advantage of her mouth

when it opened in surprise.

He groaned. The taste and feel of her made his already hard cock even harder. He wanted nothing more

than to feel her skin against his

But despite his lust-filled brain, a rational thought warned him to be careful, since anything could trigger a memory from her past.

He moved his hand from her arse, pushed up the skirt of her dress, and slid his hand up the soft skin of her thigh. But when he reached the outer seam of her knickers, Kiarra tensed and pulled away from their

kiss.

Her reaction cleared some of the lust from his brain. Something was wrong. Jaxton found the strength

to drop his hand and lean back to look at her face.

Kiarra looked like a deer about to bolt. Something was unsettling her, and no matter if his cock

hardened to granite, he would never force her. He rubbed her back and said, “What’s wrong, pet? Talk to

me.”

Kiarra’s skin was on fire.

Not in the way it’d felt when she used elemental magic in the past, but every nerve was sensitive, to the point where each of Jaxton’s touches had been a temporary brand on her skin.

Jaxton’s slap had startled her, but the deeper he took their kiss, the more she’d melted against him.

Until he touched her thigh.

The lust-haze of her brain lifted and Kiarra froze. The head guard inside the AMT had often touched her

thigh in the same way when she’d refused to strip for him. Whenever she’d put up a fight, the head guard had pinned her against a wall and ripped off her AMT uniform. She’d always been terrified that he would

do more than watch her, so she’d suffered the humiliation of his roaming eyes in silence.

After a few months, living day to day in fear of rape, the head guard had suffered a heart attack, ending the nightmare.

“What’s wrong, pet? Talk to me.”

Jaxton’s voice brought her back to the present, back to the room where she stood with a kindhearted

man who had spent years of his life looking for his brother. A man who, despite not knowing everything

about his past, she felt confident would never abuse or humiliate her.

She realized that he was rubbing her back, and the motion calmed her. Too embarrassed to talk about

the humiliation she’d faced, Kiarra laid her cheek against Jaxton’s chest and listened to his heartbeat. With each thump, her memories faded, and Kiarra snuggled a little more against his chest, eventually wrapping her arms around his waist.

With his heat and strength surrounding her, for the first time in a long time, she felt safe.

With her passion cooling, the effects of the alcohol were making her sleepy. Her eyes started to droop

and eventually she heard Jaxton’s voice rumble in his chest. “Pet, I think it’s time to get you to bed.”

Kiarra tried to speak, but her mumble was incoherent, even to her. Suddenly, her feet were no longer on

the ground and Jaxton was carrying her. But she was too tired to protest, so Kiarra snuggled against his chest and muttered, “So warm…” before slipping into unconsciousness.

Jaxton looked down at Kiarra, curled up against his chest, and realized he was in trouble.

When Kiarra had refused to tell him what had caused her distress, he’d wanted to shake it out of her.

She should be able to tell him anything, and it didn’t sit well with him that she hadn’t.

Couple that with his possessiveness in the pub and the kiss they’d just shared, which had set his blood

on fire in a way no kiss had before, and Jaxton couldn’t deny it—he not only wanted her, he cared for her.

Jaxton entered his room and laid Kiarra on his bed. After tucking her under the covers, he brushed the

hair from her forehead. She looked so young and innocent when she was asleep. The innocence on her face

matched her childlike interest in the world. He remembered her eyes from when they’d first arrived in

Edinburgh this morning and wished he could look at the world in the same open amazement.

Maybe he needed Kiarra’s influence. Jaxton was skeptical of just about everything.

If she was a Fire Talent, she would need protection until she could control her powers and combine it

with the other three Talents. Once word got out about her elemental abilities, others would be drawn to her then, especially those with latent abilities. But he was, and would always be, her first protector. He would be the one to decide who was qualified and loyal enough to make up her personal guard.

Until then, he was going to continue to train her, take care of her, and help her heal.

He pulled up a chair, took off his shoes, and propped his feet on the bed. Tomorrow, after training with Kiarra in the morning, they’d start looking for Sinclair’s hangouts and acquaintances. Kiarra needed to feel more included, and Jaxton needed to learn to trust her.

He adjusted his still semi-hard cock and hoped he could control himself around her. Unlike with most

women, one taste of Kiarra wasn’t nearly enough. But the last thing he wanted to do was scare her by

making a move before she was ready.

Especially since the memories that had made her freeze tonight might still haunt her in the morning. No

matter what state she was in, he would do everything in his power to coax out the real Kiarra. She was still his trainee, and as much as he wanted to rip off her clothes and pound into her wet heat, he needed to make sure she stayed alive. That meant duty above his own desires.

Of course, if she ever showed that she was ready and willing, he wouldn’t back down until she was

naked in his arms.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Not only did Millie have a pounding headache, she could only wiggle her arms and legs a few inches.

She was strapped to a hospital bed.

She’d regained consciousness a few minutes ago and was trying to patch together exactly what had

happened. This wasn’t the first scrape she’d had, and it wouldn’t be her last. The key was to keep a cool head and not fall prey to emotion.

Once Jaxton had escorted Kiarra out of The Last Drop, Millie had stayed behind, socializing with people

in the pub while she waited for her target. She’d also tried to find out why Dominik and Petra Brandt had suddenly appeared. The fraternal twins were honest-to-goodness mercenaries and had caused Millie a

problem or two in the past.

From what she’d heard, Dominik and Petra focused mostly on “acquisitions,” which was just another

word for kidnapping. That knowledge had set off warning bells in Millie’s head since Kiarra was a runaway first-born. The Brandt twins had never worked for the AMT before, but Millie hadn’t been willing to

chance Kiarra’s safety.

After Jaxton had left with Kiarra, Millie had kept up a cheery, boisterous façade, working the room to

find out all she could. At some point, while waiting for her target, she’d ended up at a table with a trio of Americans. The last thing she remembered was having a lager with the Yanks, and since Millie could

usually drink people under the table, it meant that someone must’ve slipped something into her drink when she wasn’t looking.

Knowing what she did of Petra Brandt, Millie would bet money that the German had found a way to

drug her. She’d underestimated Petra’s skills and wouldn’t be making that mistake again.

More concerned with learning from her mistakes than dwelling on them, Millie switched gears and

looked around the room she was in. It was filled with medical equipment, but the setup was unlike any of the NHS hospital rooms Millie had seen in Britain. Noticing the two-way observation glass, Millie reckoned that it was a research facility.

Or it could be an information extraction room.

She focused on the straps around her arms and legs, moving to see how much give they had. The straps

were only cloth, but after moving her legs around some more, Millie could tell they’d confiscated the knife strapped to her inner thigh.

While inconvenient, being weaponless was not the worst thing in the world. She might be able to

convince her captors that they needed her help. Or construct a situation that would require them to undo her straps. Either way, she needed to meet said captors before she could come up with a plan.

She heard a door open on the far side of the room before bright light flooded in from the outside,

silhouetting a male figure. The man walked inside and shut the door, careful to keep his face obscured by the shadows in the room. When he spoke, his words echoed, telling her that the room wasn’t that large.

“You’re going to tell your brother that you are alive and well, but nothing else. No details of this

location, about me, or anything you found out last night at the pub.”

She noted his accent was from the South of England, yet a little off, and tucked that tidbit of

information away. “Who are you?’

The man shifted, but she still couldn’t see his head. “That doesn’t matter. Do you understand the

instructions I gave you? And more importantly, will you follow them?”

“I heard you, but…” Millie’s voice died in her throat. She wanted to ask why she should follow them,

but the compulsion to answer him in the affirmative made her uneasy.

“Good. And no secret messages either. Do you understand?”