Dangerous (12 page)

“How much does it take, Devon?” he asked in a low, flat voice that seemed so alien coming from him when she was used to the depth and richness of his normal speech.

She blinked. “I'm afraid I don't understand.”

“Mercury. How much does it really take? What's the process? The science? We put about a half a cc in our bullets, and we haven't had enough experience to really figure it out, but I know you know, and I want you to tell me.”

Devon felt an icy chill walk her spine and she turned to look at her hands, though she was too blinded by emotion to move them. “I'm not supposed to—”

“Don't spout that confidentiality bullshit to me, Devon. I'm the one who figured this out in the goddamn first place! Now answer me! How much does it take? I know one bullet isn't usually enough, unless maybe it's the luckiest shot in a lifetime. Tell me.”

“It varies, depending on the sex and size of the Morphate,” she said quietly, “but fifteen milliliters will guarantee death in any Morphate.”

“A tablespoon?” he said almost numbly.

“Yes, but . . . bullets are also doing damage and spreading the contaminant, so it can take less in those circumstances. For instance the damage you did to kill your original Morphate. The mercury and glass went straight into his brain, that was why it worked so fast and so thoroughly even though there wasn't all that much in the vial.”

His hand slid from her waist, down the curve of her buttock and curled around her formerly injured thigh once again, the stroke all about tenderness and nothing sexual. It stole her breath away and she looked down on his bent head with bemusement. She automatically continued her stitches as she waited to see what he would do next. He seemed to shift in such odd directions so suddenly, she simply couldn't figure him out.

“What happens if it's not enough mercury? Poisoning?”

“A tablespoon brings instant vaporization once it floods the major organs. Just about anything less than that simply kills more slowly with poisoning. It would have to be less than a teaspoon in order for the Morphate to survive.”

“A single bullet.”

“Just about,” she agreed with a nod. “Depends on the caliber and the load in the particular bullet.”

“So someone came at you with an Uzi full of mercury and you managed to get out of that alive?”

Thinking she saw where he was headed now, she took the scissors from his other hand and neatly trimmed her work, inspecting it as she thought about what to say to him. She was not going to tell him any more lies, but she sensed he was already broiling with temper.

“I would be dead if he'd just shot me while I slept,” she said carefully, pulling off her gloves and tossing everything over to the nightstand with a noisy clang. She pushed back a little so she could frame his face in her hands and tilted up so she could meet his hard eyes. “However, the sight of me naked in my bed gave him other ideas first, thereby giving me the advantage.”

“Motherfucker!”

The evil expletive exploded out of him as he tried to find his feet. Devon knew he couldn't help himself. He was a man used to action and motion. In a temper, he no doubt wanted to stalk and pace to vent his emotion.

However, that wasn't going to be an option for him this time. She set a strong hand down on his good shoulder, exerting her strength against his as she held him down. It was far easier than it would have been had he been in good health. Regardless, Liam was furious on so many levels it was a wonder he didn't split right apart. Keeping him still wasn't helping matters. Devon shrugged and smiled just a little before she used her free hand to catch his face and turn him up to the fall of her mouth.

Liam was too combustible to take her gently, his entire psyche roiling with feelings he couldn't name, never mind grasp. He damn well didn't appreciate her strong-arming him, and her tactic to distract him was the oldest trick in the book! He used the arm around her waist to yank her into his body, lay back and rolled with her until she was once again under him. Liam's goal was to take the dominant position and get up once she no longer had him caged in. Although, the moment he settled into her long, soft body, he found he suddenly wasn't in so much of a rush anymore. Her mouth was damp and lush and he was channeling anger like hunger into her kiss, and she was returning it to him measure for measure. Slowly he became aware of the true heat of her body, the awesome womanly scent of her flowing all over him as he drew away from her mouth just enough to look down into pale jade eyes clouded with need and swollen lips gleaming with the mark of his kiss.

Then he realized he was too damn tired to put up a fight anymore. He ached from head to toe with pain and pent up passion. His shoulder was throbbing and he felt like Quasimodo with an enormous hump deforming him.

He was nestled snugly between the thighs of the most outrageously sexy woman in all the living world, and all he wanted to do was lick every succulent inch of her until he satisfied the seemingly insatiable need he had to taste her. And that was only the start of a long list of insatiable needs he had concerning her.

Devon watched Liam very carefully and felt when the weight of his body began to increase exponentially on top of hers, pressing her deeply into the mattress. His lashes lowered over dimming dark eyes and she heard him sigh just before he stroked his mouth over hers in a slow, steady kiss that was thoughtful and skilled rather than wildly emotional, as it had been a moment ago. Either way, he was one of the most incredible kissers she'd ever known. He took such care to search and search, craving the knowledge of every inch of her mouth, but never overwhelming or intrusive in his passionate hunt. Slowly she felt the change from his trying to arouse her to just taking pleasure in the softness and taste of her mouth.

By the time he lifted his head again, she could barely breathe beneath his weight on top of her, but she made not the slightest complaint as his lashes shadowed his cheeks and the tension washed out of his facial features. He stared down at her and reached to toy with a lock of her hair, gently sliding the silky texture between his fingers.

“I know what's happening,” he mused in a voice roughed and slurred with sudden exhaustion. “Promise me you won't go out of the house without me.”

“Liam . . .”

“Promise,” he demanded, lowering his head to kiss the pulse along the side of her neck. “I trust my people, but don't risk them yet. I need time. Promise.”

“Okay,” she breathed against his ear, her fingers sifting through his spiky hair, feeling the dampness of perspiration in it. “I won't leave.”

Satisfied, Liam laid his head down on her shoulder and fell asleep.

Devon let an entire thirty minutes pass, letting him reach a deep sleep and, to be honest, relishing the weight of him on her. Then she gently rolled him off of her body, arranged him comfortably in bed, and left the room to update his waiting coworkers on his condition.

Liam woke three days later feeling like he'd been on a three-day bender. A shave and a shower improved matters greatly, but didn't shake off the killer headache pounding behind his eyes. He kept having the urge to touch under his nose to check for blood. Surely his sinuses were beyond pressure capacity and would explode at any moment?

Devon found him sprawled back crookedly over his bed, clutching his head and groaning in a whisper. She suppressed a laugh, drawing attention to herself when it made her snort. Liam opened a single eye and glared at her.

“You find this funny?”

“Come on, you're just dehydrated,” she scoffed at him as she grabbed for his hand and tried to pull him upright.

“I'm not going anywhere until my brain fits back inside my skull.”

“I wouldn't be contrary if I were you. I won't be kind to your head if you make me force you. Let's go. Up, up,” she coaxed.

Liam did as commanded, rising to his feet and leaning against her a little when the blood in his head pounded. Once everything settled, he followed her out of the suite. He kept his eyes mostly closed, trusting her to guide him as he flinched away from the daylight. She kept hold of one of his big hands with both of her smaller ones. She brought him into a morning room, making him realize that it was well into the afternoon because there was no direct sunlight in the eastern facing windows.

In spite of the time, however, the table in the room was set with the makings of a hearty breakfast and lots of fruit and juices. Liam was suddenly famished and he practically threw himself into one of the chairs. Devon began to lift covers off of eggs, ham, mounds of toast and bacon. “Cook would be happy to make you a steak if you prefer that to—”

“No, this is great,” he said quickly.

Devon had served him a large plateful of everything before he realized it; then she sat down with tea and toast for herself. He picked up his juice, emptied the glass in just a few swallows, and then refilled it. She was right of course; he was hellishly thirsty. “You know,” he said after picking up his fork, “you aren't required to serve me. Or keep me company. I'm not here to disrupt the way you live any more than is necessary for security reasons.”

Stillness shimmered over her, her genuine smile fading into something less readable. Her eyes turned to focus on her teacup and toast. “You're so right. I'm sorry. You also have a total right to be alone and at peace when you wish it. I don't know how I could be so presumptuous.”

Devon stood up hastily, but Liam was already reacting. He had her by the wrist with the lock of his hand and jerked her forward as he came out of his chair. The result was full body contact. It happened so fast that the ring of his fork hitting his plate was still in the air.

“Liam,” she protested.

“No. Look at me, Devon.”

Devon did, her eyes snapping up with irritated fire. He had to suppress a smile, lest she think he was laughing at her. It was just, her spirit charmed him so much at the most unexpected moments.

“Devon, I didn't mean that to sound so damn cold. It was a scripted remark, one I've used before in the workplace with my principals, and it came out automatically. I enjoy your company a great deal. I didn't mean I wished to be alone. I only meant that I didn't want you to feel you are required to wait on me.”

“Liam, I'm a powerful, independent woman who does whatever she likes, whenever she likes. There's nothing about you that would compel me to change that. I'm here because I wish to be, not because it's required.”

It was a compliment and an insult all wrapped up together. Liam stared down at her, completely bemused. Finally, he lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, briefly enjoying the clean scent of her skin. “Then let's eat,” he invited.

Devon stepped back, peeling her body away from his as though they were two static filled socks fresh out of the dryer. The moment she understood he wasn't trying to scrape her off, she felt that instant attraction that continually pulled them together. He'd done little more than sleep these past couple of days and though she'd spent almost every minute caring for him, she had missed his vitality and the electricity of his waking presence.

Missed him. When she'd only spent so few hours knowing him. It was insane. It was silly. It was . . .

Undeniable. She had lived long enough to know the truth in the things she felt. The truth of the matter was that she was flushed with lust for a human male for the first time in decades. She knew she was hard to please to begin with. Ever since she had left the Morphate enclave of Dark Manhattan, encounters with Morphate males were few and far between. But the move had been very necessary. Her Alpha, Nick Gregory, had deemed it so. And whatever else she was, she would always be loyal to Nick and Amara Gregory. So that had left her with a very rare selection of Morphates living outside of the Dark Cities to choose from, and those males tended to be walking the wrong side of the law and the wrong side of their loyalty to Nick. Despite her voracious Morphate drive and appetites, for her, sex was far too personal an exchange to waste on the untrustworthy and the arrogant.

As far as human males went, she'd always been a little afraid of breaking them. Even the strong ones. She knew she could damage them if she got carried away, and what fun was bed sport without the option of getting carried away? Then there was simply the short-sightedness and rampant immaturity than ran like water through humans in general. It was a turn off.

But Liam was something entirely different. He was that pure Alpha male personality that attracted her madly, with the build and body to damn well back it up. She wasn't afraid of breaking him, that much was certain. She might be the stronger of the two of them, but strength wasn't everything, and Liam practically hummed with confidence in his prowess. That and the way he moved, with a purely male ease of contained power, perfectly balanced and tautly controlled. And just the smell of him. The excellent masculine aroma of heat and soap and sweat. Add to it the chemistry between them, and they lit up like the Las Vegas strip every time they came close.

Oh yes. She wanted this man in a bad, bad way.

But the fact that he was fresh out of his sickbed was only the beginning of the host of problems this particular desire would create. She knew her body wanted his with an incredible intensity, but there were things to be considered. There were reasons why she should be cautious and careful. There were always reasons why she needed to be cautious and careful.

She sat down slowly, smoothing her skirt and taking a careful sip of her tea.

“Have you been getting along all right with my crew?” he asked after a few minutes of relishing his first meal in days; looking around himself as if his crew would be somewhere within sight just because he was talking about them.

“Quite well. They're efficient and they take great pains to explain everything they have to do. We've been practicing some procedures for public outings. Inez is a wonder—”

“Good afternoon! Or should I say morning?”

Devon watched Liam's entire body stiffen, his demeanor changing instantly as Carter Spencer entered the room. Carter bent to kiss Devon's cheek, his hand sliding beneath her hair at the back of her neck in a possessive gesture. He kept it there as he stood to face Liam.

“Breakfast at 2
P.M.
? Devon, it's so very continental of you.”

“Carter,” she greeted, “you know that one of the rules of this house is that I don't adhere to the conventional if I can get away with it.”

“Well, I've come to scold you yet again. You've been positively neglectful of your work these past three days,” Carter said, pointedly sliding a disdainful glance at the cause of her truancy. “We're behind on everything. You know the world can't revolve without you.”

“Carter, really,” she reproached sternly, flushing with embarrassment at his behavior. He was acting like a total ass, confirming Liam's dislike of him and shaming her defense of her secretary. Carter was purposely trying to make Liam feel a cut below Devon. It irritated her. It was the story of her life, it seemed, to be surrounded by obnoxious intolerance.

“Spencer,” Liam put in calmly, continuing his breakfast as though nothing had disturbed him. But Devon could see the hard gleam in his amber eyes that told her exactly how Liam felt about Spencer and his intrusion. “Give me that smart phone you're always carrying around.” There was no asking. It was an order, no matter how casually it was put.

Spencer went rigid. “That's private and no business of yours,” he said in clipped tones.

“Actually, it
is
my business. Anything that concerns Devon, now concerns me. The slightest endangerment or whisper of a threat will be met by me until I'm satisfied that it's eliminated.” Devon felt Carter's entire body tensing all the way to the fingers around her neck. “Right now,” Liam continued, “that threat is you and your open-house style of information storage.”

Liam settled back in his chair and extended his jean-clad legs under the table until he was framing Devon's calves with a shin on either side. She could feel his warmth right through the denim and the large muscles flexed against her, drawing all of her attention to the solidity of them. For some reason, it sent chills up both of her legs. She hid a shiver under the guise of sipping her tea, but she knew Carter would feel it regardless. She wished he'd remove his hand from her neck. She didn't want to correct his behavior in front of Liam any more than was necessary. It wouldn't do for this to become—

“Devon, really! Are you going to let this . . . this . . .”

Devon's eyes snapped up, freezing whatever disparagement was forthcoming from Carter's lips with her look alone. She reached up and brushed away his hand with annoyance. “Be very careful what you say, Carter,” she warned him icily.

“You know how I feel about that. Will you please give him the smart phone?”

Carter shifted narrowed eyes from Liam to Devon and back again. Devon saw his nose twitch tellingly and it was all she could do to suppress a growl of dominance to kick his ass back in line where it damn well belonged. How dare he! Sniffing around to see if she and Liam were combining scents! As if that would have anything to do with the matter! If Carter thought that taking a human lover would lead to her falling under the influence of that human, well, then he didn't know a damn thing about her. After so many years. It was all she could do to see straight, she was so incensed.

Beneath the table, she felt Liam's legs press against hers, a covert sort of hug that brought her attention back to him with a start. He had a lazy expression on his face, his lips quirked up on one side.

And just like that her anger was gone. She didn't understand why, but his amusement over the entire exchange knocked her temper off at the knees. Suddenly she felt relieved, as though finally there was something she could allow someone else to worry about for her. Liam was doing exactly what she had hired him to do. What she had hoped he could do.

He was helping her breathe. He could have easily turned this into a pissing contest with Carter, and Carter was clearly willing despite his age and supposed maturity. But Liam had no desire to prove who was in charge.

He already knew who was in charge.

Apparently, Carter caught up with that understanding a few seconds later when he grumbled, “At least allow me a few hours to back things up and remove my personal business from it.”

“Of course. No one is out to disturb your privacy, Carter,” she said easily, though she could feel the fleeting tension in Liam against her legs. “Turn it over to Liam by five. I'm sure he only means to secure it.”

“Whatever makes you safer, Devon,” Spencer said stiffly before he pecked her on the cheek again and left the room.

Liam watched the small demonstration of affection with dark, brooding eyes. He decided instantly that he didn't like Spencer behaving so familiarly with Devon. He hardly thought Devon was the type of woman to be so casually affectionate with her employees. She placed definitive boundaries on those in her sphere, pigeonholing them into certain behaviors and acceptable interactions, and she made it quickly clear what she expected from an individual. She had certainly made it clear to Liam that she was breaking all rules where he was concerned, and it hardly even fazed her. From the start she had scattered personal boundaries between them to the four winds.

“You have a talent for that, don't you?” he asked, picking up his coffee cup. His headache had faded already, only a dull throb in the back of his neck remaining. He stretched out the small kinks that yet remained as he spoke.

“For what?”

“Taking care of multiple problems in one fell swoop. You got me that smart phone, avoided Spencer meeting a horrible death at my hands, and got him out of the room posthaste.” He grinned devilishly. “I'm impressed.”

“Really, Liam,” she scolded sternly. But he saw her hide her smile behind her teacup and her amusement was sparkling in her eyes. “I don't think I've ever enjoyed being in the middle of a pissing contest.” She was serious now. “I'd like it if you and Carter could find a way to be civil.”

“You might help me out with that by telling me if Carter Spencer is a Morphate.”

Her movements quieted noticeably, a single fingertip touching the edge of her cup thoughtfully. “Why? What difference would that make to you?”

“It means I will know what to shoot him with if he turns out to be a threat to you.” Liam held up a hand to stay her automatic protest. “I'm not making snap judgments, trust me. I will do a great deal of research on everybody who comes anywhere near you. Equal opportunity suspicion, I promise.” He laid his hand over his heart and aimed that troublesome smile at her again. Devon sighed a soft laugh, resisting an urge to throw something at him because he so easily confused her feelings. “Tell me who in this house is Morphate and who is human, Devon. I'll have Colin leave a list of names with you and you can return it to me later.”