Chosen by Fate (7 page)

She wanted those things more than she needed to ease her pain. More than she needed sex. More than she needed to be touched.

She eased away from Colt and shot another glance toward Caleb. Only he wasn’t there. Scanning the room, she saw him beside the patio doors. Watching her.

Or at least that’s what she thought at first.

Behind her sunglasses, her eyes rounded in surprise. Caleb was alone now. The feline had disappeared. But he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at Colt and at the hand that, even now, was once again stroking her neck.

Amazing, she thought. She’d been wrong about her inability to feel pleasure without the aid of drugs.

She felt pleasure now.

A pleasure that was sweeping through her because she recognized the look on Caleb’s face.

Pure, murderous rage mixed with possessive jealousy.

All three—his rage, his jealousy, and her pleasure—flared and became more intense the second he began to walk toward her.

 

“Wraith.” Her name fell harshly from Caleb’s lips as he approached her.

Typically, Wraith ignored him, but as she continued to dance with the big vamp beside her, her smile turned from seductive to cool. Yeah, she’d heard him all right.

As always, he was assaulted by the dual need to kiss her and shake her. Then kiss her some more. She’d been alternately ignoring him and hissing at him from the start. Learning he’d betrayed her had only made her double her efforts. After Korea, he’d thought he’d have the chance to fix things between them, but the moment had never seemed right. She’d seemed to withdraw into herself even more, locking herself in her room for such prolonged periods of time that he and Lucy had wondered what she was doing that she couldn’t do in front of them. They’d taken turns hanging back, but except for the one time he’d heard a crash in her room, she’d been eerily quiet.

The day he’d threatened to break her door down had been a crossroads for him. When he’d said it, he’d meant it. He’d been damn sick of her running away from him when he knew she was as attracted to him as he was to her. But when she’d spit back, absolutely no softening in her voice, he’d wondered what the hell he was doing. What the hell he hoped to gain from breaking down her defenses.

No, he couldn’t deny that he lusted after this female. He’d wanted her from the second she’d straddled his lap and shoved a gun in his face, hissing and cussing a blue streak in order to hide the fear and pain inside her.

But he’d finally forced himself to accept it—his attraction to her was as fruitless as it was inexplicable. She couldn’t be touched without experiencing pain. That was actually the least of her problems. Even so, Caleb had sworn never to be the cause of an innocent’s pain again.

Ever.

That said, he’d be damned if he’d let someone hurt her when he could stop it.

He turned to the vamp. “Get lost. I need to talk to Wraith.”

The vamp, who was taller than him by a good three inches, wasn’t easily intimidated. “Wraith’s just fine. Real fine. I’m not going anywhere.” Once more, his hand moved to caress Wraith’s neck.

Quick as a snake, Caleb grabbed the vamp’s wrist and shoved him back. The vamp growled and his eyes flashed red.

Conversation in the ballroom stilled. Dancers paused. The air in the room grew tense. The vamp tsked. “You’re going to regret that . . .”

Casually, Wraith glanced at him. “You heard him, Colt. Leave us. Please.”

Shock made Caleb’s head jerk back. He’d never heard Wraith say “please” before. He’d also never heard her speak to someone in such a familiar, intimate tone. Rage spiraled through him. When he saw Colt clench his fists and unsheathe his fangs, Caleb stepped in front of Wraith, more than willing to give the vamp what he was asking for.

The vamp’s eyes followed Caleb’s movement. He lifted a brow and smirked. Instantly, his eyes faded to their normal color, pitch black with silver pupils. “We’ll talk later, Wraith,” the vamp crooned. He swept his hand toward her. “Good luck, my friend.” With a mocking smile, he left.

Wraith didn’t even bother watching his exit. Hands on hips, she scowled at Caleb. “What the hell are you doing, O’Flare?”

He got in her face, the tips of his shoes nearly touching hers. “You always let vamps caress your throat despite the fact you don’t have any blood to give?”

She stood her ground and arched a brow. “It wasn’t blood he was after.”

Taking a deep breath, he stepped back. Slowly, the conversation and music started again.

Caleb ran a hand through his hair. “He had his hands on you,” he bit out. “He was hurting you.”

She looked stunned, then snorted and rolled her eyes. “I hurt all the time. Some types of ‘hurt’ are better than others,” she drawled, “and there are plenty of males willing to make me hurt good.”

Her words gave him pause. He’d heard the stories about wraiths and their attraction to BDSM. He supposed it was a testament to the strength of a creature’s sex drive—how they wanted sex, even if pain came with it. But in the case of wraiths, there was no kink involved—they simply had no other choice.

He remembered touching her throat just before they’d left for North Korea, examining the old scars from the paralyzing collar she’d been forced to wear so some freak could experiment on her. He’d been careful. Gentle. But even that fluttering touch had caused her pain. No matter how she tried to dismiss it now, he’d seen her tremble and flinch away from the vamp’s touch, too.

She obviously took his silence for disbelief. “What, you don’t think men have touched me before? Fucked me? Because plenty have. What do you care anyway? I saw your little princess leave, and she looked ready for some action. You better get to her.”

He’d been dismissed. And what more could he say? He turned to leave.

“Unless . . .”

He sucked in a breath and froze. Unless what?

“Unless you want to see for yourself that I don’t mind a little pain.”

W
raith saw Caleb’s back muscles tense and closed her eyes.

What. Had. She. Just. Said?

One minute she’d been watching the golden boy walk away, imagining him doing the nasty with that vixen of a cat instead of just dancing with her; then, in quick unison, she’d experienced denial. Lust.

Entitlement.

Not this time, she’d thought. This time, she wasn’t going to resign herself to having him walk away. Not when she might not have another chance to be with him.

Over the sounds of music and revelry, she heard him breathe a curse.

Her eyes flared open. Swallowing hard, she waited for him to laugh and walk away.

He didn’t. Slowly, he turned to face her, keeping several feet between them.

“You’re joking? Right?”

The way he said it, he clearly believed she was playing him. Her brain screamed for her to backtrack. To laugh it off. “Yep. Gotcha
,
” she’d say, then let him walk away to go fuck the feline he’d been dancing with.

But even though she opened her mouth to say just that, nothing came out.

He narrowed his eyes and took several steps closer. “Wraith?” His confusion was apparent, as was the fact he was going to reject her. “Sex hurts you. I don’t see how it couldn’t. I can’t . . .”

She’d been waiting for his refusal, but now that it was on the tip of his tongue, she couldn’t bear to hear it. One night. Was that too much to ask? A bit of forgetfulness. A hint of pleasure to go along with the pain she always carried around with her. After what she’d done, what she’d helped achieve, didn’t she deserve that? She’d
blown herself up
, for God’s sake.

“We don’t have to have sex,” she said, wanting to be with him in whatever manner she could. She needed it. Craved it. He was sexy no matter what he wore, but tonight, in his formal tux, he looked like every woman’s fantasy—tightly leashed sexuality thinly disguised as charm and elegance. She’d sensed his true primal nature from the very beginning, and it had made her core ache with the need to be filled.

By him.

But even though she was willing, she knew he’d never agree. Caleb was a good man. An honorable man. A warrior, but also a healer. He could never receive pleasure from hurting her, even though there had been plenty of men who could. She could probably find one or two in this very room, in fact. But she didn’t want that tonight.

There was only one man she wanted, here and now. Just once, before she died the way she should have long ago, she wanted something different—something she’d never experienced in her current form. Something she might not have experienced in her human life. She wanted to touch and be touched by someone who cared about what
she
felt. What
she
needed.

She wanted to have sex with someone who cared about
her
. And she didn’t want to be doped up on drugs in order to experience it, either.

No matter how she’d treated him, how she’d pushed him away, she knew Caleb cared for her.

So she took a chance and bargained for what she needed. “I can . . . I can touch you. I can control it. I can pleasure you,” she assured him, knowing that touching him, no matter the pain it caused, would be
her
pleasure. Her nipples hardened as she imagined it. Stroking his broad shoulders and chest. Trailing trembling fingers down his abs to encircle his shaft. “I . . .”

Again, his confusion was evident. “Why would you want to do that? I thought you hated me. Were pissed at me for acting on Mahone’s behalf. I mean, you saved me and Mahone, but that was the job . . .”

She scowled. Of course he’d have to bring up his betrayal. For days, she and Caleb had worked together—solving puzzles and piecing out his visions in order to track down the location of the vamp antidote—when the whole time, Mahone already had that information. He’d just been testing her, and he’d used Caleb to do so. What she’d thought had been a building trust between them had turned out to be a lie. “I do,” she said. “I am. But . . .” How could she explain that while she still felt betrayed by his actions, she also understood why he’d done it. From what she knew about him, Caleb always did the hard thing, especially when it was for the good of the whole. Mahone had been right—she had been the unknown element in the group. He’d needed to test her, and Caleb had given him the means. It had pissed her off, but it hadn’t made her want him any less, no matter how hard she’d tried. “Jesus, why do you have to analyze everything?”

He said nothing, not even to question her reference to a Christian God, the one she’d studied in L.A. and continued to study, drawn to the accounts of his selflessness and willingness to suffer for the redemption of others. Caleb simply studied her as if he was still trying to figure out something puzzling. His ability to remain cautious and curious when she was being burned alive by desire shamed her.

Hurt and anger made her turn away from him. “Forget it,” she called over her shoulder. “I just thought you might want some R & R, too. If you don’t want it with me, I’ll go find someone who does. And this time, don’t interfere.”

She skirted around the guests on the dance floor and was almost out of the room when his voice stopped her.

“Wait.”

Now it was Wraith who froze. The sound of his voice, deep and gravelly, dark in a way his cockiness and movie star good looks belied, had brought her to a halt. Slowly, she turned back to face him. Several people looked at them. Tipped their heads toward one another, most likely whispering about the handsome human male talking to the pitiful dead creature.

She didn’t care.

He wanted her. She could see it in his face. In his glittering eyes where desire burned like a raging fire. In the nostrils that flared as he stared at her, his features hard. Dangerous.

Something tightened in her chest, and she felt it move to shiver along her spine as if he’d caressed it with his finger. She gasped, a sound of excitement. And fear?

The notion made her straighten her shoulders, raise her chin, and react the way she always reacted—on the offensive. “Don’t think about it too long,” she drawled. “I’m getting bored really fast.”

But he couldn’t
not
think about it. She saw it all tumbling through his mind. His doubts. His suspicions. His belief that he could just talk to her. Comfort her. And yes, maybe even experiment a little to see what caused her pain and what didn’t.

Her mouth twisted at the dreaded word: “experiment.”

Like she was some freak whose responses were to be judged. Analyzed. But how could she blame him? Even the idea of making out with a female without a pulse must cause him concern. She’d never been intimate with a human before. How did he know she wouldn’t hurt him? Infect him, somehow? Why had she even—

He closed the distance between them and thumbed her chin up. That small contact caused a zing to shoot through her body—a jolt of pain, yes, but one tempered by the headiness of his touch.

“You should be more protective of yourself.”

“What do I need to protect myself from?” she murmured, moving her jaw so his thumb caressed it. “I know you won’t hurt me, not intentionally.”

“And how do you know that?”

She put her hand against his chest, relishing the accelerated beat of his heart. For a moment she weakened, wanting to drop her shields and give him a little of the truth. “Give me some credit, O’Flare. I don’t need to be psychic to sense the goodness inside you.”

He peered at her from beneath heavy lids. “Goodness, huh?” He swiped his thumb across her lips, then slipped it into her mouth. When she gasped, he rubbed her tongue, then her lips, wetting them. “You really don’t know me, do you, Wraith?” he whispered.

In response, she nipped his thumb, then laved the hurt with her tongue. His eyes went dark and smoky, making her smile. “I might come off as a total bitch, but I’m a smart one. And I don’t live in denial. I know what is. And what isn’t.” She hesitated, then plowed on, knowing it had to be said. Caleb was too knight-in-shining-armor. He was attracted to her because he wanted to save her, she knew that. Only he couldn’t.