Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1)

by Shannon McKenna

  He scanned her shifting halo of colors. He was so used to being bare-eyed with her by now, it seemed as normal as any other sensory detail he might notice, like the way her nipples poked through the fine silk robe. “Yeah.” His voice felt raw.

  “Not fair,” she said. “My feelings are written in neon for you to read whenever you feel like it. But I can’t read you. Not when you shut me out.”

  “I’m trying to keep you safe,” he said.

  “I am safe,” she said sharply. “You’re trying so hard to control everything. Yourself, me, everyone else. It’s not working. It’s not necessary, either. Let go.”

  His jaw ached with tension. “The last time I let go, I almost put my fist through your throat.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not worried about that.”

  “You goddamn well should be,” he told her.

  “I know you, Noah. Way down deep. And I want to make you come. Let me.”

  The hypnotic cadence of her voice were like magic, softening his rigid grip. She felt the moment her spell worked on him and her smile flashed, wide and delighted.

  “I don’t know how to let go,” he warned. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “Don’t worry. I got you covered.” She slid off the bed and leaned forward, fumbling with the drawstring of his sweatpants. Letting his hugely erect dick spring out.

  She took him in hand, squeezing and stroking, then leaned in to swirl her hot tongue around the head of his rod, licking up precome. He sucked in air, muscles clenched, fingers digging into the edge of the mattress. AVP surging and red hot.

  He should stop her, but he couldn’t. Too damn good. Every wet, pulling, suckling stroke destroyed him. She was taking him to pieces . . .

  No. Panic surged, along with the explosion. No retreat. No escape.

  A huge blast. Deep throbbing pulses of pleasure. Blinding light.

  His eyes opened. He was flat on his back on the bed. Limp and gasping.

  Caro was still there. She was OK. He hadn’t done anything terrible. Not yet.

  He focused on the vision before him. Her hair was draped over his thighs like the folds of a silk scarf. She smiled at him as she discreetly wiped her mouth.

  Delirious pleasure still pulsed through every nerve. “God, Caro. That was . . .”

  “Yes indeed. Absolutely. It was.” She sounded pleased with herself. “I don’t know about you, but I call that progress. Oh, I have a surprise for you. Want to see?”

  The last thing his nerves needed was a surprise. He jerked up onto his elbows.

  She read his expression. “Just for fun,” she reassured him. “To make you smile.”

  She stood up, and let the silk robe fall to the floor.

  He sat bolt upright with a gasp, his hard-on refreshed in a hot instant. “Where the hell did that come from?”

  “Do you like it?” She lifted up her hair over her head and spun around, displaying herself proudly.

  “You didn’t answer my question. But fuck, yeah, I like it. A lot.” He stared at her, dazzled. “My dick is going to explode. Again.”

  She looked mystified. “It has that effect on you, even in the dark?”

  “What dark? This room is flooded with light. Some of it is blazing out of you.”

  She smiled demurely. “I could wear this pretty thing under my clothes, and you’d see the collar as you look at me across the dinner table, and know I’m wearing it under my clothes. And thinking about you. Inside me.”

  “I don’t need the slightest encouragement to think about being inside you.”

  “Good.” She spun, swaying her hips. “I thought that a romp with the naughty nympho playmate from the porno planet might lighten you up. It’s your turn to be the bed toy.”

  “Bed toy?” That startled him out of his horndog reverie. “What the fuck is that about?”

  “You’ve been freezing me out,” she told him. “And then coming in to ravish me in the night. My demon lover.”

  He studied her, slit-eyed. “Seemed like you were into it,” he said cautiously.

  “Of course I was into it,” she said tartly. “The sex is not the problem. But I didn’t come here to scold you tonight. I had other plans.” She swirled her fingertip tenderly in the slick drop of precome pooling on the head of his cock, and licked it.

  Still, he hesitated. “Is this a trap?” he asked warily.

  She gaped at him. “What?”

  “You’re pissed at me. I see it in your sig.”

  She laughed out loud at him. “What if I am? I still want you. And I’m tired of tiptoeing around you. Get used to having me all up in your face. This is a very straightforward seduction. No traps or tricky stuff. Don’t be a humorless jerk. Lighten up.”

  “Oh, babe.” A burst of laughter shook him. “I would do anything for you. But lightening up is too much to ask of me.”

  “OK, fine.” She swung her leg over him. “Be dead serious, then.” She smiled down through the shadowy fall of her hair. “As long as you give me what I want.”

  She poised herself over him, holding his stiff rod at the perfect angle to sink right down onto him. He seized her waist, holding her still. “Let me get you ready.”

  “I am ready,” she said. “And I need you, inside me. Now.”

  “But it’ll be better for you if I—”

  “Listen to me, Noah Gallagher.” Her voice had a commanding ring. “You can’t always call the shots if you want to be with me. We will alternate. Understand? One day, maybe it’s your turn. The next day, it’s my turn. I’ve been meaning to clarify that for a while now, and this seems like the right time. Is that perfectly clear?”

  “Uh . . . yeah. Sure.” The heat in her eyes made his dick throb. He trailed his hand down her belly, toying with the pendant. “Damn, you’re beautiful in this thing.”

  “If you’re trying to distract me, it won’t work.” She preened, lifting her hair. “But I’m glad that you like it.”

  He gathered up a thick lock of her hair, pressed it to his face and inhaled. “Your scent has a color too,” he told her. “My mods translate all sensory input into visual data. Just for the pure fucking hell of it.”

  “Noah,” she murmured, a shiver rippling down her back at his touch.

  “Sounds, too,” he said. “Everything. Your voice is a violet blue. Like the evening sky. I’m so strung out on it, I can’t even breathe without you. I am so screwed.”

  She slid her fingers into his short, glossy hair. “Noah,” she whispered again.

  He pressed his face to her breasts. The glittering chain that plunged from collar to waist stroked his face, warm from the heat of her body. Her taut nipple caressed his cheek.

  “You sneaky bastard,” she said. “I was trying to be tough with you, and you go over-the-top romantic on me. Not fair. Goddamnit.”

  “Didn’t do it on purpose.” He made a choked, keening sound as she slid the head of his cock along her moist slit, and then nudged it tenderly inside. Her hips pulsed, kissing his blunt tip with her slick entrance. Wet, licking, teasing promises of all the slick heaving and plunging to come.

  That was it. The last bit of his resistance gave way. He jackknifed up, catching her in his arms. Kissing her with frenzied intensity, no holding back. He wasn’t going to hurt her, scare her. She was divinely powerful, a goddess, a rippling flame in his arms.

  He groaned as she took his cock slowly inside herself. The clutch of her body yielding to him was a caressing agony of pleasure. Loved, licked, enveloped by heat, by wet. Painted by the hot colors of her body’s snug clasp.

  So . . . fucking . . . perfect. It was killing him.

  She sank her fingers into his shoulders. Their eyes locked. The look on her face pierced right through him. Her naked soul blazing out.

  “I love when you’re wide open to me,” he said.

  “Same here. I wanted you the second I laid eyes on you.”

  “Me too,” he told her raggedly. “Like I want to breathe.”

>   Her slender body rode him, light and lithe. Each hot clench branded him with pleasure. Each gliding, rhythmic stroke satisfied him to the core of his being and stoked a frantic need for the next.

  He clutched her, riding the rising swell of power, surging, cresting.

  Crashing through them.

  When he opened his eyes, it was a moment before he recognized himself.

  Inside, he felt different. She did that to him somehow. The mystery was sweeter when he didn’t try to figure it out. Which was totally unlike him. But he needed what she offered. Had to have it. More, please.

  He pressed his hot face to her hair, which was damp. A tang of salt overlaid the scent of honey and flowers. He breathed her in, trailing his fingertips through her hair, motionless otherwise. Could have stayed that way for hours.

  But she sat up, and gazed down at him. “Noah,” she said.

  He braced himself. He knew what she was going to say. Her mind was wide open to him now.

  “Do you trust me?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “Say what you need to say. Don’t try to trap me with words.”

  “I’m coming with you tomorrow,” she said.

  His whole body clenched up. Pain flared in his jaw. “We’ve been through this,” he growled. “We’ve got multiple plans in place to track Mark if he doesn’t get close enough. You don’t have to risk it.”

  “But if he sees that I’m there, he’ll come for me,” she said. “He can’t help it. And you can finish this. Otherwise it’s going to drag out into a long, ugly war.”

  “He wants war, he’ll get war.”

  “I’m the one who doesn’t want it,” Caro said forcefully. “I want a future with you. I want my man. I want our life. That can only happen if I’m there with you tomorrow to meet Mark. You know that I’m right.”

  He shook his head. His voice felt trapped, like a rock blocked his throat.

  “No,” he forced out. “You can’t be there.”

  She pressed her hand to his heart, as if she knew somehow exactly how to chill his combat program. His data scroll started to slow down instantly.

  “It’s not up to you anymore,” she told him. “It never really was to begin with.”

  Their eyes locked, and she read his mind as effortlessly as he could read hers.

  “And no, you can’t lock me up,” she said. “Mark Olund does evil shit like that, but people who love and trust and respect each other don’t. I won’t be stupid. I’m not volunteering for actual combat, believe me. But I’m taking my chances tomorrow.”

  He hung onto himself until he could speak normally. “Caro, I just want to keep you safe.”

  “You gave me what I need to stay safe,” she said. “It’s an incredible gift. I’ll always be grateful. Now trust me. The way I trust you.”

  He closed his eyes. The combat program made his body tense, buzzing with desperate urgency. Kill plans winking and flashing, fountains of scrolling data, all tinted hot red. And her hand pressing his heart. Keeping him steady.

  She was right, that her presence made their odds better. And he fucking hated it.

  “You’ll follow orders,” he said harshly. “Do as I say. Show yourself when I say, disappear when I say. Go where I tell you. On the double.”

  Her smile was radiant. “Of course.” She bent to press a soft kiss to his jaw. “Just one more thing.”

  “Spare me.”

  “Sleep,” she said.

  That took him entirely by surprise. “What? Huh?”

  “I mean real sleep,” she said. “Not that fake soldier sentinel bullshit. I’m talking real, normal, human sleep. That’s what you need.”

  He was baffled. “I don’t remember how. It’s been years.”

  Caro tugged the covers down from the bed, nudging him until he rolled off them. She slid between the sheets and held out her arms. “It’s easy. Come on, try it. I’ll hold you.”

  He wasted no time taking her up on that offer, settling her lithe body over his non-dominant arm. She snuggled close, petting his chest hair, easing her smooth thigh over his. Felt great. But he wasn’t sleepy. Nor was he likely to be, ever.

  But who gave a shit? This was right where he wanted to be. He’d fake it if it made her happy. Forever.

  But eventually, he actually did synch himself to the slow, hypnotic pulse of Caro’s colors. If he focused on that, he almost succeeded in not thinking about what he was risking tomorrow.

  Almost.

  Chapter 32

  Mark spoke into his wrist com. “How many thermals can you see?”

  Static buzzed until Ty responded. “Four, inside. Three men, from the size of them. There’s a smaller one with them who could be a woman.”

  Mark pondered that. The possibility that Asa Stone had actually kept to the terms of their bargain made him even more suspicious than an obvious betrayal. Stone was playing a deeper game. That fact stood out. Mark had studied the man exhaustively in the past few days.

  He tracked the multiple images on the monitors that came from the vidcams of the slave soldiers, as well as the images from the brain-linked drones that the slave soldiers controlled. Brenner was on his way to verify that Caroline Bishop was physically at the meeting place. The others he had outfitted with cloaking gear and sent out into the forest to encircle the ruined, abandoned nineteenth century mansion.

  Mark hated the place. It was a bizarre choice. Parts of it had collapsed and been taken over by invasive trees, or covered with a strangling ivy. Too big, too rambling. Full of potential hiding spots.

  The drones were equipped with cutting edge visual tech, but watching the scenes through inferior mechanical eyes irritated the hell out of Mark. The drones and the slave soldiers could both detect heat signatures, but no one besides Mark could read and analyze an energy sig. The Eyes Guys had been anomalous, developing that unique skill amongst themselves in the Midlands hellhole. Brain training by brute necessity.

  He saw no human thermals other than those Ty had already specified in the crumbling building or in the woods. Just small woodland animals. Still, he was uneasy.

  Brenner careened toward the main entrance on a motorcycle. He’d been the obvious choice of canary for this coal mine. His annoying verbal glitch made him Mark’s least favorite slave soldier. Thirty million dollar investment or not, Mark was hoping Brenner would die on this mission. It would save Mark the hassle of killing him.

  Brenner slowed to a stop. His vidcam image jerked and bobbed as he dismounted, but it soon steadied, allowing Mark to see the man who walked out the front entrance. His appearance matched the sketches and descriptions that Mark had unearthed about the mysterious Asa Stone. Mark had found no obvious explanation for Stone’s connection with Obsidian, though, and the blank spot bothered him.

  Stone was subtle, arrogant, and fearless. A bad combo. He did not give a fuck how many crime bosses he inconvenienced. He appeared to have a death wish.

  Today was his lucky day. He’d come to just the place to get it granted.

  Stone was a big, thick-muscled brute. Buzzed-off dark hair and cold gray eyes. Mark was sure he’d never met him before, but something about his face was naggingly familiar. He would need to see Stone’s sig to pinpoint it. But he’d satisfy his curiosity soon enough.

  Stone gave Brenner a once-over, dismissed him, and focused on the vidcam attached to Brenner’s coat. “Who’s this clown?” Stone said, addressing Mark directly.

  “Olund wants to see the girl before he comes in himself,” Brenner said stolidly.

  Again, Stone’s level gaze reminded Mark of something, or someone. The way he was so absolutely convinced that he had the upper hand.

  Mark looked forward to teaching him how things really stood. Guys like that were always so surprised.

  Stone jerked his chin toward the entrance. Brenner followed him into what had once been a grand entrance hall with a vaulted ceiling and tall windows, most of them broken, letting the weather in. Drifted leaves, dirt and moss were s
cattered across a filthy floor barely recognizable as marble. Birds swooped and fluttered in the ceiling and a snake slithered into a pile of smashed masonry. Brenner walked alongside the man down a long gallery with broken windows. Mark could hear glass crunch rhythmically beneath the two men’s boots.

  “We’ll talk in the chapel,” Stone said. “It still has a roof.” He pushed open a creaking door.

  Mark surveyed the room with distaste as Brenner followed Stone into the room. He hated churches. He had childhood memories of extreme unpleasantness in churches. Life on the streets, with all its squalor and danger, had been preferable to that. And then came the Midlands freak parade. He never caught a break.

  Unless he carved it for himself. With a bloody knife.

  Many more broken windows encircled the base of the domed roof. A bolt of bright winter sunlight poured through the remnants of a red stained glass window, spotlighting a metal cage protected by clear bulletproof panels and casting the rest of the room into ominous shadow.

  The place was a shambles. Dirty, piled with rotten wood, broken furniture, upended pews and garbage. Its moldy walls were covered with scrawled graffiti, in stark contrast to the jewel-like perfection of the glass cage. Mark smiled thinly as he looked at it. So they thought they could protect her with a bulletproof box.

  Stone lifted his wrist to his mouth. “Bring her out,” he said into the comm.

  A door in the back of the glass box opened. A slender figure emerged. A big, helmeted man in heavy armor stood behind her, loaded down with lethal weapons.

  Mark’s body tensed with raw excitement at the sight of her. She wore some black, skin-tight thing, stretched to the max over every curve and hollow of her body. Her hair hung loose, a mane of ringlets framing her face, flowing down to her ass. Her shadowy green eyes stared straight ahead. Her mouth was tight with tension.

  She stood as if awaiting the firing squad.

  Mark swallowed a rush of saliva. He ached to see her beautiful sig again. And then gobble it up, after he taught her what a bad girl she had been. He was so hungry.

  “Why the box?” Mark waited, teeth grinding, as Brenner repeated his question.