Deep Kiss of Winter (39 page)

“Yes,” he gasped out. “Like that.” After an endless, strangled minute, he was able to drag air into his lungs, cooling that searing fire. Finally, he straightened and released her—but he was still panting. He couldn't fault her, however. She'd certainly fought dirty.

“Before you say anything,” she said in that smug tone, “I refuse to kiss you there and make you feel better.”

That had been an option? Hold everything. He might endure the pain again for such a kiss. “Shall I fight dirty with you now?”

Her lips twitched in amusement. “You can if you want, but I don't think a knee to my groin would have the same effect.”

“I didn't say I'd knee you there, now, did I?”

At last her smugness drained away. He hated to
see that growing smile disappear, though, and cursed himself. Should have stayed silent. For her smile, he could endure anything.

“Why did you do that?” he asked, hoping to remind her of the reasons and thereby witness the return of her enjoyment.

Her chin lifted stubbornly. “Talking about the fight between AIR and your men reminded me of the agents who died. You didn't have to kill them.”

Plan failed, he thought. And really, how many times would she chastise him for that? “Once again,
I
didn't kill them. But do you, as an agent, not kill aliens for a living?”

“I've never killed any . . . Well, I've never killed anyone who didn't deserve it.”

Another lie? Her outrage seemed real. “How long have you worked for AIR?”

She licked her lips nervously, seeming to realize she'd admitted to something she shouldn't have. “A little over a month.”

A month? She was a lethal baby, practically an innocent. “You are an alien in an organization that usually hires only humans. Are you an informant for your race, then?” That made sense.

“No! I'm not an informant.”

There was enough disgust dripping from her high-pitched tone to legitimize her denial. The more she spoke, however, the more of a mystery she became, the single puzzle piece he'd slid into place seemingly insignificant.

What race was she? He still couldn't place her.
Why did she work for AIR, hunting those like herself?

“A predator is a predator,” she said, as though reading his mind. “They need to be put down.”

Like him?

A muted ray of light suddenly broke free of the sky and glowed around them. He glanced up, saw the purples and pinks forming, and realized he'd been standing out here far longer than he'd meant to. He needed to escort her to her new home, like, now, but found he still wasn't ready to interrupt their conversation. No matter the risk to his skin.

“How do you and your men know English?” she asked, drawing his attention back to her. “And before you ignore me, remember that I've answered plenty of your questions. It's only fair that you answer one of mine.”

Her curiosity pleased him, even if it wasn't for him specifically. “We've studied the people, their words, their
everything
. Plus, we've been here before. Many times.”

“That's impossible. We would have known.”

He shrugged. “Even if I lied, languages are easy for my people. We have only to hear one to know its nuances.” As he spoke, he traced a finger down the curve of her cheek. So smooth, so warm. So sensitive. Goose bumps broke out over her flesh.

Frowning, she stepped away from him, and he bit the inside of his cheek as his finger trembled for more. “AIR doesn't know where to find us,” he added. “So if you are resisting me because you hope
to be rescued . . .” She'd seemed scared of them, now that she knew they'd most likely seen her change forms.

“They'll learn your location soon enough,” she said, looking anywhere but at him. “They've probably been scouring the area, closing in minute by minute.”

“They can search, but it doesn't mean they'll succeed.” Besides, his men had seen no sign of them.

“Maybe they're hiding, watching for the perfect opportunity, even now.”

He frowned, scanning the area with a sharper eye. Those thick iron bars surrounded them, the gaps closed with boards. Pyre-fire could quickly and easily burn wood, allowing agents to slip inside undetected in seconds. “We had best go. We have a thirty-mile hike ahead of us. Now, do you prefer to walk or be carried like before?”

“Wa—” She stopped and pressed her lips together. “Carried,” she said, and there was enough satisfaction in her tone to make him suspicious.

Did she hope to tire him so that AIR would more easily catch him? He
was
tired, for he hadn't yet fully recovered from the first night's fighting. Moving at such a speed always did that. Plus, the pain in his side still bothered him—and now the pain in his balls. But outshining the fatigue and the pain, was exhilaration. He'd finally crossed the galaxies, finally made a home for his men . . . finally had a woman to warm his bed. Kind of. Soon. He'd die before he allowed himself to be captured now.

“Carried it shall be,” he said, bending down and pressing his shoulder into her stomach.

“Wait. What are you doing?” she gasped out.

“I'm doing as you suggested.” He hefted her up, her body curling over his shoulder. He locked her legs against his chest with one hand and splayed his fingers over her ass with the other. Perfection. She hissed out a breath. He wanted that breath on his bare skin, not his shirt, heating, teasing, taunting. A wave of longing crashed through him with such potency, his muscles tightened their grip on his bones.

“Put me down, Breean! I was joking, okay? I didn't mean for you to carry me like this.”

His name on her lips was paradise. “How did you mean for me to carry you, then?” On alert, he crossed the yard and pushed through the gate. Mile after mile of dirt stretched ahead. That didn't comfort him as it should have. The more he thought about it, the more he realized she was right. Fierce soldiers that they were, AIR's agents should have caught his scent by now.

Why hadn't they attacked?

“Carry me in your arms, idiot!” Her arms and legs flailed. “Don't carry me like a sack of potatoes. You'll hurt me. And we're almost friends now. Right? You should treat me better.”

Friends. He wished. He also wished he could go slowly, be gentle with her, but he needed to reach the new house as quickly as possible. He'd waited too long to head out, enjoying her a little too much. Cursed ballsy woman. He could have stayed here
another day, he supposed, and that way, he would have been able to take his time when night next fell. But the weapons were gone, his men were gone, and he wouldn't be able to enjoy
and
protect her.

“This didn't hurt you last time. I'll be just as careful with you this time. Any injury I can take upon myself, rather than inflict upon you, I will, I swear it.”

She stopped wiggling. Her hands even settled on his back. “That's . . . sweet. Damn it! You shouldn't be so sweet. I don't like it.”

Or perhaps she liked it too much. “I plan to win a kiss from you. Get used to it.”

Starting forward, smiling, he said, “I had a guard at your door, and he told me that when the lights flickered out each night, you spent the time talking to yourself.” Breean had been furious that he hadn't been notified until this morning. He would have gone to her, comforted her as he was learning to do. “Are you afraid of the dark, Aleaha?”

“No. I was afraid of someone sneaking up on me.”

Far worse. That was not a fear she would let him cuddle all better. “I would have kept you safe.”

“Hardly. To me,
you
were the monster in the closet.”

Monster indeed. But at least she'd said
were
. Maybe they were indeed almost friends. With every mile he traveled, he increased his speed, the world streaking past him. He knew he left a glow behind, but no one would know what that glow was. Well, no
one except AIR's agents, but as he'd already proven, they wouldn't be able to catch him.

Finally they reached the city. That lovely snow. Cars, homes, and shops, people carrying bags whizzed past him, wind rustling his hair. He stepped carefully, precisely, keeping his motions as smooth as possible for Aleaha's sake.

The shop windows, he noticed, were lit with multihued bulbs—red and green were the most prevalent colors—and there were fake trees in every corner, decorated with bows, ribbons, and dangling ornaments. Those things had not been present the other times he'd visited. He'd often wondered why they were here now.

M
ERRY
C
HRISTMAS,
a sign said. “What is Christmas?” he asked.

“God's birthday. We celebrate by giving each other gifts. And do you know what I want most of all? For you to put me the hell down!”

A celebration of birth. They had done something similar on Raka. Some of his best memories were of the nights he'd spent in front of his mother's fireplace, his four sisters all around him, passing out the trinkets he'd purchased for them. That would have been his father's right, except that his father had died at sea soon after his birth.

A pang of homesickness pierced him. How he missed them. If only he'd come home sooner on that last trip out, he might have been able to save his mother and sisters. They might be with him now. But then, he would not have met Aleaha and he found
that he could not regret that, which filled him with guilt. In a perfect world, he would have them all.

“No holiday spirit, I see,” Aleaha grumbled.

“Do you have a man waiting for you to return home?” A man waiting to win her heart with the perfect Christmas gift.

“Does it matter?” she snapped, giving him the same words he'd given her about the weapons.

“Answer me.” He wanted to kill any man who might be waiting for her, wanting to strip her and taste her and fill her. This faceless man would do all of that as his “gift,” he was sure. Well, that was Breean's gift to give!

“No. I won't answer.”

He'd begun to relax—no, she'd said—only to tense again. “Woman, I am not someone to taunt.”

“Neither am I. So if you want the info that badly, you'll bargain for it.”

And he'd thought her smart before. She was a genius. His lips curled into a smile as he dodged a building, his shoulder catching on a jagged stone and snow cascading onto his chest and her legs. She yelped; his grin widened.

“Very well,” he said. “What would you like from me? A gift? Say yes, and I'll even unwrap it for you.”

“If you dare tell me your penis is the gift, I'll scream.”

“In pleasure?”

“Have I told you yet that you're annoying? I want the agents released.”

He snorted. “Nothing you have is worth that.”

He could hear her teeth grinding. He'd lied, though. He thought he might give anything and everything to have her writhing in his arms again. Willingly and without reservation.

Stupid cock. Perhaps one day he would be commander of it rather than the other way around. He just, well, he liked her spirit, her courage, her tenacity . . . and, yes, her body. He wasn't going to lie to himself and claim that the attraction was completely mental.

“Let
one
of them go, at least.”

“No. That one could lead your precious AIR army to my doorstep.” Those he'd captured and moved, he'd blindfolded, so that wasn't truly a risk, but she didn't need to know that, because really, his bargain, the trade-off, was the only viable option.

“What
will
you do for the information, then?” she asked, clearly frustrated.

“I'll give you a vow that they will not be killed by my hand. Or by anyone in my army,” he added before she could mention Marleon again. Of course, he would see to it anyway, but still he would not tell her that.

“And how do I know you'll keep your word? You've already admitted that you fight dirty.”

“As do you.” He patted her bottom, strangely proud of her wit and the fact that she remembered what he'd told her. As if it meant something. Sure, he was undoubtedly deluding himself, and she'd remembered what he'd said simply because she'd smashed his balls into his throat immediately after, but that was neither here nor there. “You'll just have to trust me.”

“Oh, really?” She sank her teeth into his back, past his clothing and straight into skin. He winced. Damn, but her teeth were sharp. Rather than scold her as he should have, however, he said, “I'll take this to mean you refuse to trust me.”

“That's right.” The words were moaned as if he were thrusting between her legs. She licked him through his shirt, sucked, murmured, “God, you taste good,” then groaned in embarrassment and stopped. “There'll be no trusting,” she choked out. She began kicking and slamming her fists into his back. “I won't stand for this kind of treatment. Do you hear me?”

“I believe everyone can hear you, Aleaha.”

She bit him again, but her teeth quickly gentled and she released another of those moans.

His grin widened as he picked up speed.

The diabolical bastard carried her into a dream.

From her perch on his shoulder, she scribbled mental notes, trying to memorize the path they raced and the surrounding neighborhood. But he moved in that superspeed of his, one snow-covered building blending into another, so she had trouble garnering more than a few tidbits.

The neighborhood itself was meant for New Chicago's
elite. That much she knew without looking. The air just smelled cleaner, wealthier, as if everyone scrubbed their windows with pine-scented hundred-dollar bills rather than cloth.

She remembered how Bride used to drag her to neighborhoods like this. They had stared at the homes, pretending they belonged inside. Once she'd even assumed the features of someone's little boy and entered. It had been dinnertime, and a mouthwatering spread of ham and dressing had been laid out before her.