"I'm fine.” She looked away when he continued to study her intently.
With a puzzled shake of his head, Shaque attended the wounds, cutting the dead, burned skin away from the edges of the wound to prevent infection. The wounds didn't require stitching, but he smeared antiseptic on them and covered both wounds with self adhesive patches.
A quick visual scan of her skin showed a number of bruises blossoming, but that was all.
Straightening, he repacked the medikit while Elyse sat immobile, her elbow on the table and her forehead resting on her upraised hand. He expected her to move, but when she didn't, he closed the lid of the medikit and looked sharply at her.
"Elyse?"
"Mmm?"
"Look at me."
Opening one eye, she peered sideways at him, and he noted that her eye was a sky blue colour, rather than the normal grave brown. Well, well.
Keeping his expression blank, he asked, “How do you feel?"
"What's wrong?"
"You look tired."
She eyed him for several seconds out of that one blue eye, then straightened slowly and swivelled around on the chair to face him fully.
And what do you know? Elyse has one blue eye and one brown. “Maybe you need to go for a snooze."
Without a word, Elyse stood up and strode from the cabin. Putting the medikit away again, Shaque leaned back against the table and watched the doorway, figuring she'd come back very soon.
He wasn't wrong. She strode back in and looked steadily at him. In turn, he arched one brow at her.
"How long?” All signs of tiredness was gone.
He raised his other eyebrow.
"When did my eye go blue?"
"While I tended to your injuries. Both were brown when you sat down."
They gazed at each other, then Elyse walked past him to pick up her bloodied shirt.
"So,” he said, watching her hold the shirt up and study the blood stains. He hoped she didn't put it back on, not because of the blood, but because she looked really nice in the support garment. It moulded to the curves of her breasts like a lover's hands. Hell, maybe I need that snooze. “How often has this happened to you?"
With a shrug, she balled the shirt up in her hand and turned to face Shaque, totally unselfconscious. “First time."
"Really? Donika said your eyes were sometimes blue, sometimes brown.” Unbidden, his gaze slid down her body and back up again. Get a bloody grip!
"That has happened, but never have I gone odd-eyed.” Her eyes narrowed a fraction. “Getting a good look, hunter?"
"At what?” he replied blandly. “I'm interested in a few things only.” Oops. That might not sound the way I mean it.
Elyse continued to look at him.
Giving himself a mental shake, Shaque concentrated on the questions buzzing in his head. “Do you feel different in yourself?"
"In what way?"
The woman was being deliberately difficult. Cute. Shit. His voice snapped out in annoyance at himself. “You went mutant, totally mutant. Growling, snarling, roaring. Your strength and agility were amazing. Your eyes were red and glowing."
Her expression went completely flat.
Ignoring it because he was more comfortable getting into a fight than wondering about his wayward thoughts, he continued coldly, “Then the mutant faded, but not completely.” Taking the few steps needed to bring him closer to her, deliberately crowding her, he added, “And I just know that mutant is lurking under the surface, waiting to spring out."
Not with one blink did she betray a thought. Nor did she step away. Tipping her head back enough to meet his gaze, she stared right up at him.
Goddamn, those odd eyes are sexy. The mutant inside her, the danger...
Trying to marshal his thoughts, Shaque dropped his voice to a deadly whisper. “You can call that mutant up anytime you want, can't you? The mutant part of you is just that ... a part of you."
"And don't you find that a little disconcerting, hunter?” Her eyes gleamed, the first sign of any emotion.
"No."
"A little scary?” She took that last step forward, putting them toe-to-toe. Her face, usually so blank and expressionless, held a flush of rose beneath her skin.
"No.” The beat of his heart quickened. He could almost taste the scent of danger that filled the air between them. But it was a different danger. A different tension. It pulled at him, called to him, stroked him to send his nerves into tight bundles of anticipation. Waiting...
"A little intimidating?” Leaning forward a little, Elyse looked directly up at him. The faintest gleam of red surrounded the irises of her eyes.
"No.” Suns, her soft breasts were brushing his chest with every breath she took. The danger in her eyes, the red gleam, the unknown element inside her that could explode with so much violence, was making his head spin and heat spiral to his groin.
The predator in him reached out to her, but it wasn't with a killing instinct. Dominating, yes. Heat so hot, so volcanic that it threatened to erupt through him.
Even as his hands lifted, his gaze sharpening with rapacity, her own expression shifted, a hunger burning in her eyes.
They reached for each other at the same time, neither gentle, both with voracity. Her hands twisted in his shirt, yanking him down to her, while he grabbed her upper arms hard, yanking her up, in turn, to him.
Their mouths met, crushing, lips seeking and meshing. The heat between them was carnal, their bodies pressing together, rubbing and moving in pure concupiscence.
Desire sizzled through Shaque's blood, the fire of it pumping through him in a flare of need so harsh and fiery that it awoke a raging thirst in him.
A thirst for Elyse. A thirst for her body, her taste, her very essence. In that split second, he coveted her as he'd never coveted anything in his life, not even the knowledge of his sister's fate. All he could taste, all he could smell, was Elyse's floral scent, and the tantalizing spice of danger that was so much a part of her.
Her body was so soft, yet toned, giving but taking, pressing and seeking, but pushing in a return of dominance. Wanting and demanding, just as her mouth sought to give and take, gifting him with the sweetness of her honeyed essence, but demanding and taking his own in turn.
The tug on his shirt was dimly felt, along with the rip of material, the impatient yank that tore his shirt from his body. Elyse tossed it aside, her hands replacing the material against his skin.
Her fingers touched, tormented, felt and moulded to his back, exploring every contour and hard swell with a deftness that left anticipatory sparks below skin level. Every nerve felt the sweep of her fingers, the calluses, the warmth of her palm, the promising and slightly threatening scrape of her short nails.
The dagger still sheathed at the back of his waist was touched, gripped, before her hands slid lower, openly cupping his buttocks, squeezing, pressing, her nails digging slightly through his pants.
Shaque felt like he was on fire. Every touch of her hands, every teasing caress, every demanding sweep, fed the flames of his lust.
Still kissing her, he forced her backwards, using his bigger body to make her obey, his deliberately larger steps making her back up faster. As they moved, his hands swept from her upper arms to cup her breasts, his palms on them exerting pressure, pushing her back, even as he smoothed his thumbs across her nipples that budded so firmly against the plain material of her bra.
When her back hit the wall, he slid one hand behind her, his palm flat over the centre of the rounded buttocks, and gripping hard, he jerked her up against him. He took her mouth with no mercy, kisses hard, demanding, his tongue stabbing insatiably into the honeyed cavern.
His every sense whirled, every nerve throbbed, and he could only want more, demand more, seek more, take more. Elyse's panting breaths mingled with his, and her firm body pressed against his just as hungrily.
Pulling the clasp on the front of her support garment, he felt it give, open, and then the delicious warmth of her
breasts were free to be cupped and pressed, the curving globes vulnerable to his exploring fingers.
Sliding his mouth from hers, he licked a hot path down the side of her throat until he reached the pulse that beat hard and fast. With a growl of satisfaction, he nipped the skin above it, and felt her jerk in his arms. Laughter broke free from him, low and a little threatening, and she reacted immediately by pressing closer, one leg lifting slightly, her booted heel catching behind one of Shaque's knees.
The movement brought the heat of her womanhood hard against his thigh, and Shaque cursed carnally. It felt so good. It made his staff throb, the already thickening length press demandingly against the front of his pants.
Pulling back slightly, he looked down into her face as she moaned a protest. The flush of desire had tinted her cheeks a faint pink, her lips were swollen, and the desire in her eyes prurient.
His gaze slid lower and caught on the sight of her naked breasts. Soft, round, tipped with small, rosy nipples, the bountiful flesh made his mouth water.
Moving abruptly, he caught the backs of her thighs in his hands and pulled Elyse up before him. The muscles in his arms swelled, hardened, and the hot lust in her eyes made his staff swell and harden at the same time.
God, he couldn't remember a time when he'd ever been this hard, this swollen.
Even as he shoved her back against the wall, bracing her there with his hips, she wound her slim legs around his waist, hooking her heels behind him. Framing his face with her hands, she started to lean down to take his mouth once more, but Shaque was having none of it.
Releasing his hold on her thighs, he grabbed her wrists and slammed them back against the wall each side of her hips, the movement forcing her to arch back until she was flat against the wall.
As he'd wanted, it brought her breasts forward, directly in line with his mouth. It only needed the smallest move forward for those tempting buds to be right at his mercy.
Shaque swiped his tongue right across one rosy peak, long and slow, and he felt Elyse stiffen, saw her stomach muscles tense. Her thighs around his waist tightened, and she bit off a moan.
Turning his head, he dragged his tongue slowly across the other nipple, and heard the low growl that broke from her. Not a mutant's growl, but the frustrated sound of a woman in need.
Of Elyse in need. That alone was a turn on.
Lifting his gaze, he caught her looking down at him, her plump bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her eyes, both brown and blue, were hot with passion.
Still holding her gaze, he touched his lips to the tip of one nipple, and she held her breath, anticipation making her eyes darken. Wanting to prod her further, wanting to make her lose control, Shaque stabbed the tip of his tongue out right against the centre of her nipple, and immediately felt her hips buck against him.
The fire in his veins was building with each move of her heated centre against him, her pants in no way dulling that erotic tremble of her very centre pressed against him.
He knew, just knew, that the centre of her was damp. Wet. That the folds of flesh would glisten as shiny and beckoningly as the wet plumpness of her lips as she licked her tongue across them while she arched back the tiny amount she could, her fingers scraping against the wall.
Power flared through him, the need to not only dominate but push her higher up that carnal rise to more erotic delights.
To make her beg for release.
Engulfing her nipple, he closed his lips around the base, the cushioning flesh of her breast against his nose, and he breathed in her warm, floral scent, knowing he could lose himself in the taste and smell of her and be in euphoria.
Not allowing himself the luxury, he held her nipple in the tight suction of his lips and dragged his mouth back, drawing out the sensation, knowing it affected her by the way she shuddered against him, her wrists straining against his imprisoning hold, forcing her to take what he gave without remorse.
Just before he let her nipple slip free, he tongued the tip hard, mercilessly, pressing it ruthlessly against the centre of her breast, and was rewarded with her scream, the shudder that wracked through her violently.
His manhood throbbed painfully, bulging in the confines of his pants, but still he pushed Elyse ruthlessly, glorying in her helplessness.
Capturing her other nipple, he drew the short, budding nub through the suctioning hold of his mouth, tonguing her hard again, making her shudder even more violently.
Lifting his head, he found himself looking up into her eyes, which burned with such rapacity that it made his breath catch and the fire in his veins flare hotter.
Wrenching her wrists free from his hold, she framed his cheeks with a firm grip, leaning down to catch his mouth in a kiss so carnal he actually felt his knees start to give out.
Locking them, he reached up to tangle his hands in her thick, silky, hair, kissing her back just as hard, just as voraciously.
Elyse yanked the tie from his hair, spilling his ponytail free so that her own fingers mirrored his movements, tangling in his hair to hold him still for her kisses.
Each demanded, each sought for mastery. Shaque laughed again, low and almost goading, wanting to see how far she'd go. How far she'd fight him for control.
When the growl reverberated against his lips, he wasn't surprised to open his eyes and find that the rim of red around her irises had widened. The danger rose, but he felt no fear.
Hell, no. Anticipation curled through him, but not fear. Her predatory side only made him hotter, so hot he was almost surprised he didn't set his own pants on fire.
"Shaque...” His name was sighed out huskily. The danger might be in her eyes, but her voice was pure oestrus. A woman calling to her man in the most primal way.
The male in him answered that female call. He wanted her. Now.
Stepping back from the wall, he grabbed her thighs, but she knew what he wanted, and she released her hold around him and quickly lowered her feet to the floor. Shaque was already tearing at the fastening on her pants, ripping them open, shoving them down her legs.
The startling sight of the red, lacy panties cupping her feminine folds made the dominant side of him roar mentally in appreciation.
She toed her boots off and kicked her pants free, but froze when Shaque slid one hand between her thighs. Leaning forward over her, bracing one forearm on the wall above her head, he forced her to lean back against the wall.
Closing his eyes, he inhaled the floral fragrance that rose from her, drawing it into his lungs, letting it spill once more into his senses. By turning his hand between her legs and flattening his palm against her, he forced her to move her legs apart to accommodate him.
Desire beat through him with every heavy, hard thud of his heart as he felt the evidence of her own answering desire on his palm. The wet lace, the downward push of her hips as she pressed her hot centre into his palm.
Opening his eyes, he looked down at her. His heart leaped, his blood thickened even more, and he wondered that he didn't just choke on the lust that filled him so much.
Elyse was leaning back against the wall, looking so feminine, so female in nothing but red lacy panties and soft curves. Bewitching, enticing, her plump lips moist and swollen from his kisses, her eyes hot and carnal, and her hands...
God above. One hand was pressed against the front his pants, rubbing relentlessly, firmly. Her pose might have been feminine, but the small smile that curved her sinfully wicked lips was totally decadent and knowing.
"Come on, Shaque.” Going up slightly on tip-toe, the tips of her luscious breasts rubbing tantalizingly against his bare chest, Elyse purred into his ear, “Come for me."
Her hand slid further between his thighs, pressed upwards and swept back.
Shaque nearly fell to his knees right then and there, nearly spilled himself in his pants, nearly lost control, something he hadn't done since he'd been a teenager.
This time it was her laugh that was goading, her laugh low and husky and full of heat.
“You're so close, Shaque. So very close.” Leaning in, she nipped his throat. “So—"
Her voice broke off when he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back against the wall, and her laugh was almost breathless, but her eyes still burned hot. Still rimmed with red. A siren's call to his predatory side.
Hooking his thumbs in the waistband, he shoved his pants down his lean hips, releasing his staff which sprang free, so hard and hot and throbbing.
God, he'd never been so aroused in his life!
"Think you can take me, Shaque?” The words were an erotic purr to his inflamed senses.
"Oh, I can take you, Elyse,” he replied, his own words deep and growling. “The question is...” Grabbing her hand, he wrapped her fingers around his staff and looked directly into her eyes. “Can you take me?"
"Oh, I can take you, Shaque.” She echoed his words almost mockingly. “I can take you deep.” And then she tightened her hold on his rock-hard staff, and ran her hand firmly down the length before pressing her thumb firmly against the head of it, sending little shock waves through him
He almost lost control right then and there, his hips giving one thrust into her hold.
She laughed softly, the flicker of red around her irises brightening, the haughty lift of her brow an open taunt.
Clenching his jaw, Shaque forced the heaving tide of mindless passion down, focusing on her face. He wasn't going anywhere without her.
In one harsh movement he ripped the lace panties away, and in a second harsh movement he grabbed her behind her thighs again, shoving her up and back against the wall, and automatically she wound her legs around his hips, locking her ankles behind him. Her hands settled on his shoulders, gripping.
The moist heat of her was against his skin, the head of his penis unerringly pushing past the slick folds that were now so open and vulnerable in her position. And then he was there, nudging the hot entrance to her body, feeling the sweet, torturous sensation of the tears of desire that seeped from her to cover the head of his manhood.
Even as he prepared himself to enter her, he caught her gaze. He wanted to watch her as he filled her body. Passion filled her eyes, sky blue and grave brown, rimmed in red. Danger and passion simmering so explosively side by side.
Soul of a Predator Page 21
