“Do I?” he drawled as he kept his lips inches from her own.
“Hmmm.” She attempted to pull him closer, but he resisted. Typical play for him. Games were his forte. She reached between them and found the heated length, curling her fingers around the hardness. “And I need you right now.” She raised her hips and placed him inside her.
He threw his head back and groaned a low animalistic sound. “Sweetness. Christ,” he moaned.
Delara smiled at the control she had over him. She pulled his head down and took his lips for her own.
****
Kilter’s guess was that the Neanderthal wouldn’t kill her. She was too precious to her husband. Still, watching her being held in the bastard’s grip was sending his wrath into overdrive, which meant acting irrational regardless of the risk.
Her frightened eyes widened at something behind him. Shit, he’d lost his concentration and wasn’t paying attention to what his senses were telling him. Woman behind with the smell of cold metal in her hand. Risk or not, he had to act fast.
He leapt forward, slamming his full weight into Ben and Rayne just as the sound of a gun exploded.
Kilter felt the recognizable searing pain in the back of his shoulder. Christ, he didn’t need this shit.
The slight body beneath him shifted, and he thanked God he hadn’t broken every bone in her body landing on top of her as he did. The waif of a girl was like a pick-up-stick, but bone instead of wood.
Kilter pushed Rayne aside and then plowed his fist into the guy’s throat. He heard the sharp gasp of pain and took the opportunity to fire his gun at whoever had put the lead in his shoulder.
A female’s voice erupted from around the corner of the corridor and he scented that it wasn’t the same woman who’d shot him. “Let her go, and I will consider letting you live.”
Kilter wanted to laugh at the preposterous notion. “Like hell,” he said, and to make his point clear he shot off a round in her direction.
The air shifted and he immediately knew what the woman was—a Lilac. He tried to raise the Scar on his lower back, but being shot deterred him from using it. It was a kind of self-preservation, considering his Scar took an abundance of energy from his body.
A fuckin’ Lilac. They needed to vacate ASAP, or they’d be trapped in her nasty webs and be praying for death.
He kicked out at Ben’s arm as the Neanderthal raised his gun. It went flying across the corridor and hit the wall. He rolled to the side, grabbed the back of Rayne’s sweatshirt and hauled her to her feet.
“A blast about now would come in handy,” Kilter said to Quill using telepathy.
“Location?” Quill asked.
“Ground floor. Foyer doors. We are five feet away, so don’t blow us up for fuck sake.”
“Righty oh,” Quill replied.
Within seconds, a loud blast sounded, throwing Ben off balance and giving Kilter the opportunity he needed. He changed his aim from the she-bastard, who had disappeared at the end of the corridor, and hit the baldheaded Neanderthal in the chest. He went crashing into the opposite wall. Wouldn’t kill him instantly, but he deserved a slow agonizing death. Besides, this place was laced with Quill’s explosives.
The foyer doors suddenly exploded, metal frame and glass shattering in all directions. Nice timing, Quill, he thought.
“Go. Door. Now,” Kilter shouted as another blast shook the ground. He pushed her ahead of him as he turned to cover their backs. His ability was recuperating from all the code boxes he’d tampered with, so he shot off three rounds in the direction of the stairwell, but the Lilac was nowhere in sight.
Time to go.
He dove for the door and burst out into the daylight.
His feet skidded to a halt.
Mr. Pompous-ass husband stood with his hands in a chokehold around Rayne’s neck. Her lips quivered and were turning blue as she struggled for breath. Give me a break. Her eyes bulged, and her feet dangled inches off the ground. Slim fingers tore at Anton’s vicious death hold, but her husband ignored the scratches.
It was the trickle of blood slipping from the corner of her mouth that sent his fury into final overdrive. White-hot flashes ignited as he struggled to contain the instinct to leap on her husband. He felt Quill’s voice inside him trying to soothe the rage, but he ignored him as he went into destructive mode.
There was one choice.
In a single flash, he reached in his boot for his backup knife and threw it without a second thought. It hit its mark, directly in the upper arm that was holding Rayne’s throat, inches away from her ear. Pompous-butt screamed in pain at the same time as waif-girl sucked in gasps of air and fell to her knees.
“Quill, get your butt over here and get this chick out of this hellhole,” Kilter said.
“You won’t get away with this,” Anton shouted, holding his arm. “She will come after—”
He ran at Anton, jumping over Rayne and then pounding his fist into Anton’s face. He smiled hearing the crack of bone as it made contact with his nose. A human was no match for him, even one as muscular as Pompous Ass Piranha King. Hand to hand, a Senses was ten times stronger.
He homed in on any movement around them, but oddly, it was quiet except for Quill’s explosions going off. He shoved his fist repeatedly into Piranha’s face. Blood splattered his chest and knuckles. A blind rage tore through his insides at the image of Rayne dangling, eyes wide with horror, lips trembling. What the hell had she been living through here? What had her husband done to her? He wanted to destroy the bastard and tear him limb from limb.
“Kilter, out now!” Quill grabbed his arm and pulled him off the wheezing husband. “We have two minutes before this place turns into an erupting volcano.”
Kilter roared at the interruption. He wanted to finish him off. The sick bastard deserved to die by his hand for what he did to the girl.
“Kilter, let’s go. If he’s not already dead, he will be.” Quill slammed his hand into his back, pushing him away from the huddled body on the ground.
Kilter growled low and deadly and took a step towards the motionless form when he heard the soft shuffling of feet behind him. He turned his wild eyes on the girl who was ready to dash from him at any second. She met his crazed murderous eyes and began to back away. It took him four strides to seize her arm and jolt her to a dead stop.
“Kilter,” Quill warned.
He ignored the objection and grabbed her hand, placing the knife in it. “Finish him.”
Her eyes shifted to her husband lying in a pool of blood. “I . . . I can’t.”
“He deserves to die,” Kilter said.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He gave a curt nod and took the knife, walked over to her husband and in one swoop swept it across his throat.
“You want to be on a BBQ? Let’s get out of here, man,” Quill said.
Kilter locked his arm around her waist, and they hauled ass to the wall.
FALL (The Senses) Page 33
