Taming the Fire (12 page)
Authors: Sydney Croft
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Erotic fiction, #Romance, #Adult, #Occult fiction, #Erotica, #Occult, #Sexual dominance and submission
She kept an eye out for a tail, and she noticed he did the same, calmly, probably because he still didn't realize the danger they were in.
He wasn't the one with an explosive device around his neck.
She didn't know what range the bomb's signal had, but she did know the shock would turn her into a beast within a ten-mile radius. If the agent back at the club had the remote, he could turn her into a monster right now, and she'd rip Trance apart there in the vehicle.
“Where are we going?” he asked, as he approached a multilane roundabout.
She hesitated. Instinct made her want to keep her lair secret, but then, if Itor was here, it wouldn't stay secret for long. “My place. I need to grab some things. After that…”
“We'll figure something out.”
“Take the first right, then.” She eased around in her seat, making sure no one turned with them, and breathed a sigh of relief. “Nice car. What do you do for a living?”
“I'm an accountant for a law firm.”
She snorted. “You're not an accountant.”
“I'm not?”
“You're too… hard.”
His mouth tightened, and she swore she heard the grind of teeth. “Maybe I wasn't always an accountant.” He shot her a sideways glance. “Were you always a dominatrix?”
No. I was an assassin
.
“Touché.” She brushed some invisible dirt off her boots. “So what did you do before? Take the second left.”
He shifted gears smoothly, his legs working the pedals with the same easy motions, like he was one with the vehicle, a pilot who knew his aircraft. A stir of feminine appreciation warmed her insides, because a man who could make a machine purr could definitely do the same to a woman.
And she really needed to get her mind out of bed. “So? You going to answer?”
“No.”
“Then you can pull over and drop me off.”
“Rik…”
Anger sparked, anger that she was rapidly losing control of this situation. She needed to get it back, and fast, before her inner animal decided it could do better to protect them both. “This is my fucking life,
boy
, and I need to know something about you if I'm going to spend time with you outside the club.” Still, he said nothing. She leaned over, palmed his crotch.
“What the hell?”
“You came to me for a reason,” she said. “You need to learn restraint. Which means you need to learn to obey. Tell me what I want to know.” She rubbed a little, smiled when she felt him begin to harden. “Tell me, and I'll reward you. Or you can drop me off. Your choice.”
She felt as much as saw the battle that raged within him. He slowed the car, and she held her breath, waiting for him to pull over and kick her out. He'd nearly come to a stop, when he cursed, hit the gas and shot back into traffic.
“I was a cop,” he muttered. “In the States.”
Now, that was more like it. Accountant, her ass. “Why aren't you a cop now?”
“I don't want to do this, Rik—”
“Mistress,” she said softly. “And you
will
answer.” She gave his cock a squeeze, and he sucked air between his teeth.
“I hurt someone,” he ground out. “Robbery suspect. I didn't mean to, but…”
“Your strength.”
“Yeah.”
“And that's why you're playing the sub instead of the natural Dom you are.”
He gave a sharp nod and glanced out the rearview mirror.
“Left at the roundabout and then straight for two kilometers.” She removed her hand—reluctantly—from his crotch, and settled back in the seat, though she didn't relax. That Trance had been a cop made her feel a little better; he could obviously take care of himself. But no matter how much training he'd had, he couldn't stand up to a trained operative. She had to prepare him. Protect him.
Which was a joke, because she couldn't protect herself, let alone someone else.
“I need to know what's going on,” he said quietly. “What's an excedo… sapien? Isn't that what you called me?”
Closing her eyes, she dropped her head against the headrest. This was going to sound so incredibly insane, and she wasn't sure how much to say. “It's a term for humans with exaggerated natural abilities. Like superstrength or-speed. Or extraordinary eyesight or hearing. Some scientists are saying that humans are suddenly evolving rapidly, but they don't know why. One theory is that it has something to do with Armageddon. Whatever it is, there are a lot of people like you in the world.”
“Okay, that's interesting, but how the hell do you know all this?”
She opened her eyes, but didn't look at him. Just gazed through the sunroof at the starry sky, broken in places by low clouds. “There are these agencies… sort of like the CIA, Mossad, SIS. Except they are supersecret, and their agents are… special.”
“Special how?”
Oh, science-fiction special. DC Comics Justice League special
. Except these agencies were evil, and there was no justice involved. “They employ people like you. People with unusual abilities or areas of expertise. Psychics, pyrokineticists, people who glow in the dark. Or can see in the dark. And those are just the tip of the iceberg.”
He snorted. “That's, uh, unbelievable.”
“I told you.”
“All right, let's say it's true. You haven't explained how you know all this.”
She actually began to tremble. Her nerves were shot; she was being hunted and now she had to tell this man, whom she had actually started to like, that she was a monster. Taking a deep breath, she rocked her head forward. “Second right and straight again.”
“Got it. Now, you going to explain?”
“I was part of one of those agency's programs.”
“How?”
Her skin began to tighten and itch, and inside the beast stirred. It didn't like that she was confiding anything in Trance.
“They thought my family had special powers,” she said quickly, before she could change her mind. “So they took us from our home. They killed everyone. Everyone but me. I escaped. But that man you were talking to… I think he was looking for me.”
“If everyone has special powers, what's yours?”
The sensation of claws scraping the inside of her skin had her grinding her teeth. “I didn't say everyone has power. A lot of the people who work for these agencies are regular people. But they're the best in their fields, or they have special knowledge or unique skills.”
“You're stalling. What's your special ability?”
She looked out the window at the run-down neighborhood where she'd rented a trashy town house. “I have a terrible temper,” she snapped, letting a little of that temper out. “And let's leave it at that.” She pointed to the curb. “Pull over anywhere. My place is right there.”
He did, but after he shut off the motor, he turned to her. “I need more.”
“Not now. After we're safe.”
“Safe? If what you're telling me is true, it doesn't sound like you'll ever be safe.”
A shiver ran up her spine, because he'd just voiced what she'd been too afraid to admit to herself. As long as she was alive, she'd be hunted, always in danger, and never, ever would she be safe.
She leaped out of the car and darted toward her front door, the instinct to get out of the open and inside her lair too strong to fight.
“Rik!” Trance caught up with her when she hit the top step of her porch landing. His hand closed on her wrist, and she swung around with a snarl.
“Don't touch me!”
He jerked his hand away, but it was too late. Overwhelmed by the danger, the loss of control, and now, a very alpha male she'd confided in far too much, the beast wanted out. Ulrika surged forward, teeth bared and a film of red coming down over her vision. She slammed him into the porch post with a forearm against his throat.
“Never touch me without permission. Never. I've warned you before.”
“Okay. Just take it easy. I wasn't going to hurt you.” His voice was low, strong yet gentle, and his eyes were intensely focused on hers, the pupils narrowing to pinpoints. She felt a strange calm come over her, just enough to keep the beast from popping out of her skin. Still, it wanted out, and it wasn't going to be lulled by a soothing voice.
“Inside,” she growled. “We're going to finish what we started at the club.”
“We don't have time—”
“We'll make it.” She released him, cursing herself, because he was right, but she couldn't risk leaving the house without regaining control. It was only a matter of time before she could no longer keep the beast contained. She had to do it
now
. “I need sex. And you need to realize that I'm the one in charge here. Not you.”
His stare turned dark, full of conflict. She knew what he was thinking, that they weren't in the club, and he didn't have to submit to anything. But he probably also realized that if she was telling the truth about crazy supernatural agencies, he might need her. After a long moment, he gave a slow nod, barely a bow of the head.
She dug in her purse for her keys, dread making a sour ball in the pit of her belly. She hated this, hated having to waste time they didn't have, hated having to use him, hated having to need him. Especially away from the club. This was the closest she'd been to anyone since she'd been taken away from her home, and the closer she got to him, the more danger they were both in.
Jesus H. Christ, there wasn't time for this. Trance touched his chest lightly, where Rik had drawn blood the night before. Those scars had long since healed, but what if she didn't stop this time?
She was on edge—even her eyes looked different, as if she was ready to make the switch.
But she was fighting it—and if sex with him would soothe her, he had little choice.
He looked around the neighborhood while she searched for her keys, and damn, the area was a cesspool. But then, Rik didn't really need to worry about thugs. Still, Trance moved close to her, as if he didn't know the true meaning behind her terrible temper, and acted the part of the protective ex-cop.
The cover story he'd used with her, about being a cop, was too close to the truth for him to be comfortable.
When she finally got the door open, he took a visual sweep of the place as he entered, and closed the door behind them both.
“No one bothers me here” was all she said before she grabbed his arm and all but dragged him down the hall.
Yeah, well, someone was about to start bothering them big-time. Dammit—he needed to let Dev know about Ryan, hadn't had time between Rik finding him talking to the back-from-the-dead operative and getting the invitation to her house. She'd been spooked as hell and he wondered if she actually knew Ryan when he was playing double agent at Itor. She didn't seem to recognize him, but she'd been playing with her collar. She did that when she was nervous, and he wondered why it was he felt like he knew her so well after such a short time.
The file, man—you read her file
. But even as he reminded himself of that, he knew he was lying.
Still, Ryan's appearance had been a wake-up call, and fortuitous at the same time—it actually got Rik moving—and moving with him at her side. He couldn't have asked for a better stroke of luck.
She stopped at a door, and he noted her hand shook and her shoulders heaved with panting breaths as she opened a box on the shelf in the hall, and removed an old skeleton key. She fumbled it as she reached for the lock.
“I'll get it,” he said, bending to pick it up off the floor, but a nasty snarl froze him, his fingers just inches from the key.
“I can do it myself.” She snatched the key off the floor and jammed it into the lock. The door swung open, and he stepped inside the room, his gut doing a slow slide to his feet.
He'd been in private dungeons before, well outside the safety of a regulated club with cameras and guards that stopped things from getting too out of hand—had even had one in his place. But he'd never been on the receiving end of such a room, and he wondered if the nerves were more anticipation or expectation.
He should've tranqed her last night at his apartment. Even though it would've been going against the plan, even though he would've been risking life and limb, what he could lose here was far more intimate.
