Hunger's Mate (16 page)

She gasped, her eyes never closing, never cutting their contact. He loved the look of his darker-complexioned skin over the lighter, smoother contours of hers. The way his palm splayed over her breast as the other hand disappeared between her legs. “Open for me, let me touch that precious jewel you have inside,” he whispered in her ear.

“I can't,” she whimpered, her thighs shaking.

“You will,” he insisted, using his strength to push her legs open wider.

She gasped as he slipped another finger inside, dipping them both deep, pulling them out and then repeating until the sound of her moistness echoed throughout the room, and the scent of her pleasure permeated the air.

“You will surrender to me, Jewel. You will give me all that you are,” he told her, knowing he wouldn't be able to give her the same.

She shook her head, still whispering, “No,” as he continued to work her, to push her to the brink.

“You want me to stop?” he asked, lowering his head to nip along the line of her shoulder. Please say no, because he couldn't stop, couldn't pull back from this desire coursing through him.

When his tongue touched her soft, smooth skin, his heart beat faster with a thought. He could bite her there. He loved the sensation, the pinprick of pain, the jolt of awareness, and then came the pleasure. The memory was as clear as day, the heady sensation of pleasure that soared through his body whenever he would bite, then lick, then savor. He hadn't in so long, his heart thumped wildly with the thought.

His fingers moved in and out of her, faster and faster while she struggled to catch her breath. All he could think about was the pleasure, the intense flush that would soar through his body and take over his mind. She was so wet, her essence dripping down his fingers, past his wrist. His other hand cupped her breast harder and harder, until his mouth watered to take that turgid nipple into his mouth. His dick was so hard it pressed against the zipper of his pants, painfully, persistently.

“Tell me you want me to stop,” he begged her. “Tell me to get the hell out and never come back. Tell me, dammit! Tell me!”

“Yes!” she screamed in return. “Oh god yes, yes, yes!”

Her words died as she moaned, her body convulsing as her release wracked her entire body. She trembled in his arms, her pleasure pouring out over his hand, her head lolling back against his shoulder. Ezra opened his eyes then, he looked up to the mirror, to see his hand still between her legs, his palm still cupping her breast and the eyes of his cat glowing, adamantly, knowingly.

 

Chapter 11

“What the fuck? Now both of them are gone? How did you idiots mess this up?” Lawrence Crowe yelled, slamming both fists down on the table while glaring at the man in the rumpled police uniform toying with his broken glasses.

“It was an ambush,” he stuttered. “They came in hot with big-ass guns and shit. How was I supposed to keep them off? You took everybody else out of the building, remember?”

“I left you with ADAM and now he's gone too! You dumb fuck!” Crowe cursed after smacking Mahoney across the back of his head.

The police sergeant stumbled forward, turning back to look at Lawrence like he might actually swing on him. The toupee he wore was now crooked, hanging slightly to the left, revealing the totality of his baldness.

“You left us out in the open and you knew someone would come for her!” Mahoney countered. “I didn't sign up for a fucking suicide mission!”

“He's got a point there.” The tall gangly man that had been more than a pain in Crowe's ass these last couple of hours added his two cents.

“First, you shut the hell up!” he said, pointing at the wannabe soldier. Pierson's son, Sidney, was a coke-snorting slime ball who was assigned to be his father's eyes and ears but was more like a sniveling leech. Still, Crowe would much rather have this easily controlled idiot tagging along than the steely suspicious gaze of Pierson himself.

“Second, you had a gun and ADAM!” He continued his tirade, turning on Mahoney once more. He cursed as he walked through the police station, kicking the broken furniture out of his way.

Two hours ago he'd been on his way to this very location, giddy with the excitement of seeing her again, of being able to touch her one more time. It wouldn't take long, what he wanted to do to his precious Dawn. No, it wouldn't take long at all, to give her exactly what she deserved. He wasn't normally a man to obsess over anything, but in these last few years, the Genesis Project and this female had driven him almost to the point of madness. Maybe because he'd never been unable to achieve his goals before.

All the accolades the military had bestowed upon him had added up to a bunch of nothing. He would retire a broke man if it were up to those bureaucratic bastards. So he'd decided long ago that if things were going to go his way he'd have to make it so. He was so close now, the diamonds as his safety net, but the Genesis Project was his big payday. They had offers on the table if a successful prototype could be produced. There was money and the woman that belonged to him on the line.

And damn if he was going to let anyone screw it up!

The chirping of his cell phone was both annoying and disruptive. He needed his team—the ones who had arrived in the state-issued police vehicles, but weren't actual police—to finish searching the debris for clues and then give him a line on where his two prized possessions had been taken and by whom.

“I'm at his apartment, waiting,” the female voice replied the moment he answered.

“Good. As soon as you get the name, go get the person with that DNA and get your ass back here,” he snapped, holding the phone so tightly it was a wonder he didn't break the damned thing.

“Are you sure this is the only way?” she asked. “This guy's pretty creepy.”

“What the hell are you talking about, creepy? He's not a prospect for marriage or some other crazy shit! He's a mission. One that you've been assigned and one that I'm expecting you to complete, simple as that!” Crowe yelled once more, his temples throbbing with every word. He did not have time for bullshit right now and going on and on with Lilah about some idiot lab assistant was complete nonsense. For a minute, Larry wondered why he'd ever trusted the simpleminded girl with this task.

“I'm just asking, Larry. How far do you really want me to go for this mission?”

The girl was easy on the eyes and adequate in bed, even though following instructions wasn't her strong suit. He'd missed that easy submissiveness, the smooth control that aroused him to no end in the bedroom. She'd followed his every command. Still, she owed him, so she was going to pay until he thought the debt was fulfilled.

“This arrangement I've extended to you can always be terminated. Think about that while you try to figure out how far you should go to do what I asked,” he told her in a clipped tone before disconnecting the call.

Standing with his back to another two that he felt like killing, Crowe closed his eyes to the pounding at the base of his skull, the hardening of his dick as he thought about fucking one female and strangling another. When had his life taken this drastic turn? Twenty plus years in the Marine Corps, day after day of dodging death, breaking necks, shooting insurgents, women, children, killing because he was ordered to and now because he was being paid to. His body was filled with rage, consumed and eased only by the warmth of a pliant and agreeable female. Only by Dawn.

“He told me his name,” Mahoney's voice interrupted his thoughts.

“What?” Crowe asked, not bothering to turn around to approach the man he'd paid a shitload of money to help him secure what he so desperately needed.

“Sebastian Perry from Perryville Resorts,” Mahoney continued. “Some fancy-pants rich dude who said he'd hired a lawyer for the girl.”

“A lawyer for a slut,” Pierson snorted. “That's funny.”

Crowe had turned and was across the room in seconds, his big strong hands wrapping around the scrawny bastard's neck before he could mutter another word.

“Shut up or die! Take your choice!” he said, spittle flying into Pierson's face as he spoke, his entire body shaking with anger. Nobody talked about Dawn that way. Whatever he did or said to her was because she owed him, she belonged to him. He wouldn't stand for disrespect from anybody else, especially not this sniveling asshole.

Adrenaline pumped wildly through his veins as the man's face paled, his mouth gaped open, but no sound was released. He'd lifted him off the floor when he grabbed him and his feet kicked at the air. In another second, give or take, he would be dead. Still, lifeless, quiet, thank the stars. What then? Death wasn't new to Crowe. It wasn't bothersome or depressing. It was a part of life, he figured, and would take place whether he helped it along or not.

When Pierson's dull brown eyes were about to bulge out of their sockets, Crowe released him. Deciding not to help Pierson's demise along, not today anyway.

“You!” he yelled toward Mahoney, who wisely hadn't moved a muscle to help Pierson, even with a gun still holstered at his hip. “Get the vehicles ready. We're going to pay Perry a visit. And if the silky-smooth bastard doesn't give back what belongs to me then he'll regret the second he walked into this building. They'll all fucking regret it!”

*   *   *

“What's going on out there?” Eli asked.

“What are you doing up this time of night? Is something going on out there? Is Shya all right?” Ezra countered his brother's question, sitting up on the couch he'd been uncomfortably sleeping on in the sitting area of Jewel's room.

Shya Delgado was the four-month-old daughter of Nick and Ary Delgado—one of Rome's Lead Enforcers and his wife, the
curandera
. She'd been sick since her birth and just before Ezra had left Havenway, she'd been taking a turn for the worse. His heart rate slowed as he held his breath, waiting for his twin's reply.

“She's the same. Papplin's still trying to figure it out but he's coming up blank. I overheard him on the phone with someone he called DiLaurent, asking him about the blood sample he'd sent to him at Washington Hospital. Nick's about ready to kill somebody and poor Ary, she can't even concentrate to work on any of her research. It's getting pretty bad here,” Eli said with a heavy sigh. “But that's not why I'm calling. Something happened out there and I want to know what it is,” he continued adamantly.

Ezra should have known he'd call. He should have actually called him first to head off this conversation. But he'd been caught up in other matters tonight, caught up in someone else.

Rubbing a hand down his face, his elbows resting on his knees, he took a deep breath and released it. Then he told his brother about ADAM. He did not tell him about Jewel.

“Fucking hell!” Eli cursed, keeping his voice down low.

His twin was probably in the room he occupied at Havenway, which was steel-lined and just about soundproof. That and the fact that it was the middle of the night in Alexandria, all but ensured he wouldn't be overheard. Still, Eli had been speaking in hushed tones.

“You got training ops this morning?” Ezra asked, once again changing the subject because he suspected there was much more to this call than Eli's suspicions.

“Nah,” his brother replied. “Couldn't sleep, felt like something was wrong.”

Ezra nodded. “Feeling like something's about to jump off. Yeah, I'm getting that vibe too.”

On the other line Eli sighed. “Something is if there's a freaky-ass robo-shifter running loose. You didn't kill it so I'm guessing you're planning to dissect it and see what the fuck it is.”

“I suspect that's what Bas and his crew are going to do.”

“What about you? Now that you know what's going on out there, you coming home?”

For a minute Eli sounded eighteen again. He sounded like the slightly younger twin looking to his older other half for answers. Once, Ezra had given the wrong answer. He'd led his brother right into the clutches of a madwoman and he'd watched as Eli had been slowly absorbed into her fold, day after day, until it had almost been too late.

“Not just yet,” he replied, knowing there was no point in lying. “I still need concrete intel from Comastaz that this ADAM thing originated there. Then we need to find out who masterminded this monstrosity and kick his ass around a bit.”

Eli agreed and then went silent.

“You okay, man?” Ezra asked, already knowing the answer.

After a few silent seconds that seemed much longer, Eli finally answered. “I'm different,” he said in an even lower voice.

Holding the phone tightly to his ear Ezra clenched his teeth. He'd known this was coming. Hadn't he been trying his best to deny it the last few weeks, months, if the truth be told? He should have known that if he was feeling it, Eli would be as well. They were two sides of a coin, one experiencing everything the other did, from the time they were born. The good, the bad, and the unholy.

“It'll pass,” Ezra lied. No, he hoped.

“It's getting worse, not better. It was supposed to be better.”

Squeezing his eyes shut tight Ezra agreed, “That's what he said.”

Eli erupted. “He lied! He fucking lied to us! Blowing that black smoke up our asses the same time we inhaled it through our noses. He said it would be better and it's not and now … now,” his voice trailed off.

“Now what? Eli? What's going on with you? Tell me what's happening.”

Eli remained silent. The way he had been doing since they'd left the Sierra Leone, and even more since the incident at that bar. His brother had been irrefutably changed after their experience and Ezra was deathly afraid there would be no turning back for him, that the man he'd grown up with, had loved with every fiber of his being, would be forever lost. And that it would be his fault.