When he reached the apex of her thighs, he was all but shaking with the need to claim her. When he lifted her hips up she arched back, pressing her bottom against his erection.
He fitted himself to her and pressed forward, taking her slowly, inch by inch by inch. She moaned and rocked forward and back. He caught her hips in his hands and held her immobilized, not sure which of them he was torturing with that move.
Finally, he couldn’t delay any longer and started to move in earnest. Completion wouldn’t be long in coming, not when Lena kept calling his name, urging him on. The slap of his flesh against her bottom made him desperate to get closer, to melt into her welcoming heat.
Then she rotated her hips in just the right way to break the dam, sending a flood of pleasure screaming through them both. As she keened out her release, he rode her hard and fast until they were boneless and completely spent.
His last thought as they dozed off was that they hadn’t really settled anything. But he didn’t really give a damn.
An hour later, Sandor snapped his cell phone shut with frustration. Back to reality. “I have to meet Ranulf downtown.”
Lena turned on her side to face him and propped her head up on her hand. “Any particular reason?”
“Yeah. Earlier, I told him about that spot where I felt the renegade I’ve been trying to track down. Ranulf has some different abilities than I do, more along the lines of your ability to read scenes. I asked him to check it out in case he picked up something I can’t.”
Lena frowned. “What are you going to do with this renegade once you’ve found him?”
“I’m not sure.”
He didn’t know if they’d execute the culprit on the spot or take him up to some remote area to do the job. Either way, the bastard would die. Rather than risk more questions he didn’t want to answer, he rolled out of bed and reached for his clothes.
“I’ll have to hustle if I want to catch up with Ranulf.”
He hated the uncomfortable silence between them. There was so much said and unsaid that needed resolution.
“Do you want to have dinner tonight?” He kept his eyes down and his hands busy tucking in his shirt.
“Let me think about it.”
Lena sat up in the bed and stretched, let ting the rumpled sheets pool around her waist. It would have taken a far stronger man than Sandor to resist that temptation. Smart woman that she was, Lena immediately recognized his lust, snatched up the sheet, and shook her head.
“No, Sandor.”
Did she have to sound so sure of that? Especially with him standing there with his tongue all but hanging out? Maybe he could change her mind. He inched closer.
“No, Sandor!” she repeated with more force. “I do not want an irate Viking pounding on my door because you got distracted.”
“How’s a man supposed to concentrate on work when he’s staring at all that beautiful feminine flesh?” He took another step toward the bed.
“You are so full of it, Kearn. Now get out of here so I can finally take a shower and get dressed. I’ve never spent so much time in bed in my life.” Not that she sounded unhappy about that.
“Okay, but I’ll be back. After that little tease, you at least owe me dinner.”
She finally smiled. “All right. And afterward I’ll patrol with you, if you’d like help looking for your renegade.”
That might not be the smartest plan, considering her views on Kyth justice. But in bed or out of it, he wanted as much time with her as he could get.
“I’ll let you out.”
When she threw back the covers and walked him to the door stark naked, he groaned. With her hair rumpled and a love bite on her shoulder, the sight was enough to bring him to his knees. And she knew it, too. Her smile was all siren, well aware of her feminine power and enjoying it to the fullest.
“Lena Wilson, you are a cruel, cruel woman.”
Sandor waited until she got close, and then pounced. His captive didn’t put up much of a fight before she sighed and surrendered. Determined to make the most of his victory, Sandor decided Ranulf would just have to wait a little longer.
Sandor was still smiling when he arrived at the meeting spot. It was easy to pick out the irate Viking warrior on the crowded pier: he was the one everyone gave wide berth to. A wise decision, considering the way he radiated bad temper and irritation with every breath. But it would take more than a ticked-off barbarian to spoil Sandor’s good mood.
As soon as Ranulf spied him, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked aggravated. “Where the hell have you been?”
Sandor grinned. “I had a few important final details to see to. It took longer than I expected.”
“Oh, brother.” Ranulf mimed sticking a finger down his throat and gagging. Then he clapped Sandor on the shoulder hard enough to send him staggering back a couple of steps. “Come on and show me this place you want me to read.”
It was out of character for Ranulf to get over being mad so quickly. “How come you’re not reading me the riot act for keeping you waiting?”
Ranulf’s smile was too sly for comfort. “Remember your righteous indignation when you caught me in Kerry’s bed, when you thought I should be concentrating more on the mission?”
Shit, he would remember that. “Yeah.”
“I’m petty enough to enjoy the noble Sandor Kearn being a slave to testosterone, just like all of us other poor mortals.”
Sandor liked hearing the other man laugh, even at his own expense. Not so long ago, he had expected to lose Ranulf to all the darkness he’d been forced to consume to protect their people. Kerry was definitely good for the Viking.
“I owe you an apology for that, Ranulf. I had no right to be so judgmental, especially under the circumstances.”
They walked along in silence for a minute or two before Ranulf spoke again. “You weren’t that far wrong. I was barely holding it together. I hated coming down off the mountain, because my control was nearly shot. If it weren’t for Kerry…”
“Yeah, she’s helped both of us.” They were approaching the spot he wanted Ranulf to check now. “Lena and I were walking along here when I first sensed the renegade’s signature.”
It would be interesting to see what Ranulf could pick up that he hadn’t. Meanwhile, he could concentrate on other important things—like where he was going to take Lena for dinner, or if she’d be up for taking carryout to his place after they patrolled. That would be more conducive to other plans he had for the evening—and into the wee hours of the morning.
“Damn it, Sandor, can you keep your mind on Talion business for a few minutes?”
Sandor saw the gleam of excitement in Ranulf’s eyes, the look a hunter got when he spotted fresh tracks. “What did you find?”
“He’s Kyth all right, and you’re right about him standing here more than once.” Ranulf’s expression turned more grim. “But that buzz you felt was so strong because two Kyth stood there, most likely together.”
Sandor’s good mood went south. “So we’re dealing with a pair of renegades.”
“Or possibly more. I’m pretty sure I caught a trace of a third individual, but it’s too faint to know for sure. That would account for the widespread attack sites, as well as the varied descriptions from the victims.”
“Any more details?”
Ranulf shook his head. “My ability is clearer when there’s been violence involved, like Lena’s. Since these two were evidently just standing here, we’re lucky to pick up even that much. I’d guess at least one of them is a male, but mostly because historically most renegades are.”
They started back toward where they’d parked their cars. “We can start keeping an eye on this place. If he or they are fond of that spot, maybe they’ll come back again.”
As usual, the Viking’s 1940 Packard convertible had drawn a crowd. Sandor was always amazed by how much patience Ranulf had with people who insisted on leaving their fingerprints on the car’s perfect finish. A couple of men h
ung around to ask questions, then headed off.
Sandor leaned against the front fender. “Lena and I will be out patrolling again tonight, but finding our target that way is going to be really hit or miss.”
Ranulf looked chagrined. “With all of today’s excitement, I forgot to tell you that our guy was out hunting again last night. According to the news this morning, the cops found some poor SOB passed out on a staircase early this morning. Same symptoms as the others, except this time no money was stolen.”
“Any description?” So far, the culprit had been careful not to let anyone get a glimpse of him.
“A little better than most. The vic remembers thinking he was being followed. But when he stopped to see, the other guy ran on past. He said the runner was male, average height, with nothing to distinguish him from anyone else on the street. Since the victim was a big guy himself, he didn’t perceive the runner as a threat.”
“Even if the runner was the renegade, the description is useless.”
Ranulf nodded in agreement. “I’ll see if I can find out exactly where it happened and give you a call. Maybe Lena and I can give the scene a read tonight.”
Hmm—maybe it would help Lena resolve her conflict about Bradan if she spent more time with the Thorsens.
“Any chance you and Kerry could join us for dinner tonight?”
“Sounds good. I’ll check with Kerry when I get home and give you a call.”
“Great. Since the weather is nice, I can fire up the grill and throw on some steaks.”
“Even better. See you around six?”
“Perfect.”
Sean sighed with relief. The room had finally stopped spinning whenever he tried to sit up. Still, the effort to get upright left him sweating and shaking. He inched toward the edge of the bed and slowly stood up, leaning against the nearby wall for support. He would get to the bathroom on his own this time. It was a matter of pride.
The distance to the bathroom seemed almost insurmountable, as he staggered from one piece of furniture to the next, pausing each time to catch his breath. He’d heard the expression weak as a kitten. Right now, the smallest furball could take him out with one swipe of a tiny paw.
The trip back to bed was only marginally better. He collapsed on the pillow and waited for his pulse and breathing to slow down to normal. Even the sheets smelled sour from his sweat. God, what had he done to get this sick? Could the energy he needed to live also kill him? Were Tara and Kenny at risk from the same threat? Maybe if he retraced the evening in his head, he could figure out what had gone wrong.
The front door opened, and he heard Tara set the heavy laundry basket by the front door, then go back down the hallway for another load. He wished he could help her.
Her second trip didn’t take as long. When her footsteps headed for him, he sat up again, tired of being an invalid.
She poked her head around the corner and smiled. “You’re looking better. Are you hungry?”
Come to think of it, he was. “Soup would be good, but no hurry.”
She came into the room. “Why don’t I help you into the kitchen? While your soup heats, I can strip your bed and run the sheets down to the laundry.”
A vicious surge of anger ripped through him. Before he even realized he’d raised his hand, he sent the mug and book on the bedside table flying across the room. “Quit trying to mother me, damn it! I can make it that far by myself.”
Tara stepped back, her eyes widening in shock. She backed out of the room, giving him a wide berth as he slowly made his way to the small table and on into the kitchen.
His temper faded as quickly as it had come, leaving him feeling frustrated and embarrassed. “Look, Tara, I’m sorry. It’s like I keep telling you—I have no control whatsoever any more, especially when it comes to my temper.”
“It’s okay.” Her voice cracked, and she was careful to stay out of reach, with her arms crossed around her waist.
“No, it’s not okay, and we both know it. I wish I knew what to do about it, but I don’t.” He pulled out a chair and watched her open the soup and put it on to heat.
“I’ll be right back.” She rushed from the room without looking at him.
“All right.” He sat in silence, listening to her pull the sheets off his bed. He also heard her sniffle. Damn it, he’d made her cry again. The minute he felt better, he had to get away. He couldn’t live with himself if it had been Tara he’d damaged, instead of that stupid mug.
As he waited for Tara to return, he began to feel more in control. In fact, for the first time since Kenny had brought him home, he felt…okay. He held up his hand. It wasn’t shaking—good. He stood up. His legs supported him without protest—even better.
He sat down before Tara could find out. As long as she thought he was still weak, she wouldn’t keep such a close eye on him. He’d have to make sure neither Tara nor Kenny had any idea he was plotting his escape.
When Tara approached the kitchen he was slumped back in the chair, doing his best to look weak and tired.
“That soup smells good.”
“I’m glad. Maybe it will give you some strength back.”
As always, she forgave him far too easily. Sometimes he wished she’d scream at him for being such a jerk, but she never did. He loved that about her, but it also made him crazy.
Memorizing her sweet face, he watched as she dished up the soup and set it in front of him with some crackers. He’d need the memories to be clear and bright when he disappeared from her life, something to cling to when he was alone. There was some comfort in knowing at least she’d still have Kenny. She wouldn’t see it that way, but it was the best thing for all of them.
He lifted a spoonful of soup to his mouth. When he took to the streets, hot meals would be few and far between. But it was worth any sacrifice if it kept Tara safe from his insanity.
Sandor flipped the steaks, then spread the vegetables out on the grill to cook. Dinner wouldn’t be long now.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Lena asked.
He smiled over his shoulder at her. “I’ll take one of the dark ales if Ranulf hasn’t drunk them all. The man’s a bottomless pit when it comes to expensive microbrews, especially when I’m the one paying for them.”
The Viking rose to the bait, just as Sandor had probably expected. “If you didn’t want me to enjoy myself, you should have said so. Speaking of which, Kerry, can you get me another one?”
His wife didn’t stir. “Get it yourself, old man. The last time I checked, the Kyth had outlawed slavery.”
Ranulf reached over to touch a strand of her dark hair. “I’m sure the fine print on our marriage certificate says something about love, honor, and obey.”
She batted his hand away and snickered. “Yeah, right above the part about a cold day in hell.”
When Lena brought Sandor his drink, she stayed close by his side. “Are they always like that?”
He stage-whispered, “Worse, usually. They’re putting on their best manners for company.”
“Hey, you’re supposed to be my loyal subject! You can’t bad-mouth your beloved ruler.” Kerry tried to look haughty, but couldn’t keep a straight face.
“Okay, your royal highness, come to the table, the steak is done.” Sandor piled the meat on a platter and handed it to Lena. “Ranulf, I left yours bloody, just the way you like it.”
Lena looked at the steak Sandor forked onto Ranulf’s plate and shuddered. “Is it safe to eat something that raw?”
“Remember, he’s a barbarian, born and bred. It takes more than raw meat to bring the Viking down.”
Ranulf grinned proudly. “Darn straight. Back in my day—”
His wife interrupted him. “We know, we’ve heard it all before. Back in your day, you either ate your meat raw or it ate you.”
Sandor joined right in. “So how did T. rex taste, anyway?”
“As I recall, a lot like chicken.” Ranulf speared a big bite of his steak. “And those drumsticks co
uld satisfy even the hungriest Viking!”
Lena couldn’t help but laugh with the others, even though she didn’t want to get too friendly with Kerry and Ranulf. Her relationship with Sandor was complicated enough.
As if sensing her thoughts, Sandor winked at her. Even that small, shared gesture was enough to send shivers of sexual awareness through her.
And he knew it, too, although he tried to hide his knowing grin as he took a long drink. She stared at his throat and remembered the taste of his skin. God, she had it bad.
“So, Lena, how long will you be in Seattle?”
Kerry’s question might have sounded like idle conversation, but Lena wasn’t fooled. There was too much intensity in the way the woman looked at her, toward Sandor, then back again. Was she wondering what Lena was going to do about them executing Bradan? Or was the curiosity about Lena’s relationship with Sandor? Two could play this game.
“I’m not sure.” She sipped her iced tea. “How often are you going to order your boys here to break the law?”
Sandor choked on his drink, and Ranulf went from relaxed to full alert. She ignored them. So did Kerry.
A small smile curved the other woman’s mouth. “With all the time you’ve spent with Sandor, I assume you two have managed to squeeze in a few conversations.”
Lena took her time folding her napkin and setting it by her plate. “A few.”
Sandor began. “Kerry—”
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. Lena realized he was still straining to speak, but somehow Kerry was preventing that from happening. Boy, she had some kind of weird mental mojo.
“Not now, Sandor. Lena and I are just having a friendly discussion.” Kerry’s gaze flicked toward her husband, who held up his hands and sat back. “So, during one of those conversations, did he explain exactly what Bradan Owen was capable of?”
Lena nodded.
“I’m sure Sandor also told you that I’m almost as new in my awareness of the Kyth as you are. In some ways it was probably more of a shock to me, because I was faced not only with the existence of a different human species, but also with the indisputable fact that I was a member of that race. However, I’m convinced that somewhere along the line, some Kyth made a contribution to your own gene pool.”
Dark Warrior Unbroken Page 15
