Touched by Darkness (30 page)

arms and hands, massaging and kneading away

tension. Her eyes closed, she offered no resistance,

just gave a little sigh. He moved to her feet,

massaged the pressure points, and this time she did

moan. "Oh, that feels wonderful."

From there, he worked his way up her legs, along

the sides of her hips. He felt the leap of tension go

through her, the unabated sexual energies refiring.

His body was pulsing, straining with its own

demands, but he overrode it with fierce

determination. This was for Kara, and there was

only one way to rid her of the high-wire tensions

that would otherwise leave her lying awake in bed

most of the night.

He moved his hands upward, brushing lightly

against her abdomen and midriff, settling them

along the sides of her breasts.

Her eyes flew open. "Damien, what—"

"Hush," he murmured, watching her breasts swell

at his touch. "Lie still."

"But—"

"Just lie back, and let me do this for you," he

ordered hoarsely.

Before she could object, he feathered his thumbs

over her nipples. She gasped, arching upward.

#

As Damien's fingers stroked her nipples, shock

chased a hot rush of sheer lust that torpedoed

through Kara's body. She tried to protest, but a red,

blurry haze filled her mind, and her dry mouth felt

as though it was full of cotton. But the rest of her

came alive—sharp, vibrant, pulsating with desire so

intense, she felt engulfed in white-hot flames.

She moaned as his hands moved down and beneath

her camisole, stroking back upward over her bare

skin, his fingers trailing fiery electricity in their

wake. Then they were slipping beneath the lacy

edges of her bra, and her breath caught. She tried to

protest again, but then he unhooked her bra and slid

his hands over her breasts. The breath hissed from

her lungs and she dug her fingers into the couch.

Yes...
How could she object when it felt so good,

and when she craved it like an addict craved drugs?

She must still be in thrall to the conduction-induced

energies, because as Damien stroked her breasts,

colors and images flashed through her mind. She

heard his voice in her head, speaking in a language

she didn't know, his words flowing over her,

holding her in place for his touch. It was like a

dream, where she knew what was happening, but

was paralyzed. She didn't feel threatened by him,

but her out-of-control body, desperately straining

against his hands, was another matter.

He moved one hand down her body, undoing her

slacks and sliding his hand beneath her panties,

over her abdomen. An evocative, tantalizing touch,

with a promise she desperately needed fulfilled. Of

their own volition, her legs parted for that seeking

hand. He stroked the wet flesh between her legs

and a lightning bolt of electricity shot through her

body.

"Damien!"

He seemed to understand, seemed totally attuned to

her body. He slid a finger inside her, slow, deep,

and her entire being shuddered. Yes, this was what

she needed—and it had been so long. How could

she have thought she could ignore such a raging

demand?

Now that the flood was unleashed, what he was

doing wasn't nearly enough. She could barely

articulate anything, much less the all-consuming

need. "More." Her voice was a guttural whisper,

barely audible. But he knew. He was inside her

mind, just as his finger was inside her body. He slid

a second finger into her, and she shuddered again.

He stroked his fingers in and out, and with a little

cry, she arched against his hand. It was too little, it

was too much, it was everything she needed at this

moment.

His thumb circled over the sensitive nub above

those magic fingers buried deep inside her. "Let go,

Kara." Then his voice was in her head, whispering

in that strange language again, and she felt the

mental push, hurtling her toward the edge.

She couldn't refuse, didn't want to refuse. She went

into free fall, her body screaming as the climax

pounded through her. The fall seemed to go on and

on; in the throes of the explosion, she couldn't

focus on anything but the sensations.

Even when the climax began to fade, leaving her a

quivering, boneless mass; even when Damien

pulled away from her, she couldn't seem to form a

coherent thought, much less speak.

He stared at her a long moment, his expression

inscrutable. "I know we agreed there would be no

intimacy," he said, his voice raw. "But— Ah, hell,

Kara. This was necessary for your well being."

She stared back at him, shocked.
My well being?

He made it sound like he'd given her a dose of

medicine for an illness. Or worse, like he was

maintaining a valuable asset:
Have to take care of

the little conductor so she can continue to conduct

for me.
It was certainly cold and impersonal.
Saw

the problem, wham, bam, fixed the problem, now

let's get back to business.

Those thoughts sent a flare of anger through her.

How dare he think of sexual need, of desire, as
a

problem
to
be fixed?
And just what was she

supposed to say now?
Thank you?

She managed to find her voice, struggled to sound

calm and unaffected. "Are we through for the

night?"

Some unidentifiable emotion flashed in his eyes. "I

guess we are."

"Good," she said coolly. "You should find

everything you need in the cabinet in the bathroom.

There are towels, and clean sheets for Alex's bed."

She closed her eyes, willing him gone. She knew

when he left, felt the crackling energy fade, felt the

utter emptiness that settled around her like a heavy

weight. She lay there, still stunned, and too shaky

to stand.

She felt a rush of mortification, and her face

heated. She had been totally out of control. If

women ever started going into heat, she could be

the poster girl. Yet Damien had remained cool and

contained throughout, which made it even worse.

She wouldn't—couldn't—think about that just now.

Keeping Alex safe and stopping the Belian had to

come before her personal embarrassment.

She pushed up from the couch, not surprised her

legs were trembling. She zipped and buttoned her

pants, yanked her camisole and sweater down

without bothering to re-hook her bra. As she

managed to walk the distance to her bedroom door,

she heard the shower running in the main

bathroom. Maybe Damien hadn't been as

unaffected as she thought. Then again, he might

shower every night. She didn't know what to think

—or feel—at this point.

The heat flared to her face again, and she entered

her bedroom. Alex was on his stomach, his arm

flung over Mac, and both were snoring softly. She

went into her bathroom, grateful that the previous

owner had added it, along with a roomy closet,

using one end of the large bedroom.

The house had been built in the forties, with only

one bathroom and tiny closets. Kara's built-on

bathroom was tiny, with a shower stall crowded in

with a toilet and pedestal sink, but it afforded the

privacy a woman sometimes needed.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were

too bright in her flushed face. Definitely post-

orgasm symptoms. Disconcerted and disgusted

with herself, she stripped, stepped into the shower

and scrubbed thoroughly. She dried off and put on a

pair of sweats and some fuzzy socks. It was way

too late to dress protectively, but she still felt more

secure.

She sat on the edge of the bed, brushing the tangles

out of her damp hair. Despite her best efforts, she

couldn't banish what had happened with Damien

from her mind. Nor could she forget how he had

looked tonight—first when he had worked patiently

with Alex, both on his shielding and on the laptop.

Then again later, when he'd sat across from her for

the conduction, in his faded jeans and sweatshirt,

his hair loose and glossy around his face.

The fact of the matter was that the man was sexy as

hell. Realizing her mouth was dry, Kara got up to

get a glass of water.
Damn.
What was the matter

with her?
I will not be a slave to my hormones
—
or

Sentinel/conductor-induced lust,
she told herself

fiercely.

Even if Damien had just given her one of the most

earth-shattering orgasms of her life. It ought to hold

her for the next seven years or so.

It would have to.

Alex's flight left on time, so it was only mid-

morning when Damien and Kara drove back from

Austin-Bergstrom International Airport. She never

showed her concern to her son while telling him

good-bye, but in the silence of the car, Damien

could feel her distress. He'd been pushing her, but

something had to give in order to capture this

Belian.

He shouldn't have initiated
any
form of sexual

intimacy last night. Yet in his mind, he could still

see the longing and sadness on her face, could

smell her erotic scent. Could remember the feel of

her skin, warming against his touch, the feel of his

fingers inside her, her cries as her body arched up

against him. Her need, her heat, her passion were

imprinted on his senses.

He was used to being turned on when he was

around a conductor, to the ongoing, sexual

frustration every Sentinel endured as part of his or

her job description. He knew better than to let his

control slip, to let himself be affected by sexual

energies. But last night, he'd stood beneath a cold

shower and relieved his raging need in order to

insure he'd be able to maintain that control—a very

rare occurrence for him.

Kara was getting under his skin, and while he

needed to put some distance between them, he'd

already ruled out trying to find another conductor.

They simply didn't have the time. This Belian was

too powerful, and he knew it would strike again

soon.

Kara dug her phone out of her purse. "I need to call

Luz and tell her Alex is gone."

"Just stick to what we discussed, tell her the same

thing you told the school principal."

She did, telling Luz Alex had gone to visit his

grandparents because he had a special opportunity

to take a trip with them. Since he might also be

gone the following week, during school spring

break, she told Luz to take two weeks off with pay.

"Well, that's that," she said, closing her cell phone.

"Now I have to clean house for the next thirteen

days, and either live at the Busy Bee or starve to

death."

"You won't go hungry," Damien said. "I can cook."

Her auburn eyebrows lifted. "You can? Where did

you learn?"

"My father taught me. He was the chef in our

household."

She shifted toward him. "
Was?
Is he deceased?"

Damien suppressed the grief that flared within him,

even after thirty years. "Yes, he's dead."

"I'm sorry. He was a Sentinel?"

"No, my mother was the Sentinel," he said

brusquely. "She's dead, too."

"Oh. I am really sorry."

He shrugged. "It goes with the territory."

She was silent a few moments, then she asked, "So,

is it common for Sentinels and conductors to marry

each other?"

"It's fairly common for those Sentinels who want to

have families. It would complicate matters for a

Sentinel to be married to a non-conductor, and then

engage in a conduction with another person."

"I never thought about that. Just as it never

occurred to me that Richard might do a conduction

with someone else, once we were together. Of

course, he never did." She stared out the

windshield, her expression distant.

"You know, I didn't totally believe Richard's wild

story about being a Sentinel until that first

conduction. Talk about a mind-blowing experience.

Among... other things." A slight flush stained her