Clarity (The Admiral's Elite Book 3)

by HK Savage

  Michael remained motionless, propped on an elbow and curved around for a body no longer cradled against him. The blood on his chin thickened, dripping onto the dark pillowcase. “You know I can’t tell you if he’s specifically told me I can’t,” he whispered harshly. “Keep your voice down or the whole house will hear.” The extent of Admiral Black’s hold on Michael was a very closely guarded secret only Becca was privy to.

  Frustrated she couldn’t argue because he was right, furious at her body for its growing weakness, Becca turned away from him in a huff. Pointedly yanking her discarded clothes off the floor, she shoved her limbs into them. Whirling, she tore her iPod from the top of the dresser and stalked from her room, stopping just shy of slamming the door behind her. “I’m going for a run.”If I don’t pass out on the way, she thought with a giggle creeping way too close to hysteria.

  Chapter 3

  The brief summer bloom of desert flora and fauna would normally have given her an extra boost. Normally she could last through all of her favorite spinner’s mix before she ran out of steam. Except she wasn’t back to “normally.” Before the end of the second track she was winded, and through all of her reserves before it was half done. What would her unit think if they knew what kind of shape she was in? If she couldn’t get herself back into condition soon she would become a liability in the field, and that opened a whole other can of worms: What would Admiral Black think when he found out she was weak as a newborn calf? Would it be enough that she could do as he asked if she had to be carried along? Would he demand she continue to drink from Michael to stay strong? She wasn’t eager to find out the ramifications of that option. Would he ask her to change, to be like them? Would he ask Michael to do the unthinkable? Was death at her lover’s hands her fate? At last, fatigue made it impossible to think and her mind went blissfully blank except for the immediate demands of the uneven terrain. When finally she walked out of the Southern California desert to set foot on the stone steps of their out of place English manor house, she was wringing wet and ready to drop.

  Dragging herself to the kitchen to find something to drink, Becca had propped herself against the edge of the big farmhouse sink, greedily gulping water when she heard footsteps on stone.

  “Eh, you stink.”

  Becca lowered the glass and wiped her hand across her chin, taking care to hide the way it shook. “Thanks, Gabrielle.” She turned to see the gorgeous blonde glide into the room. How did she get simple fatigues and a tshirt to look like that? Becca remained convinced the woman had hers tailored.

  “I’m surprised. A few days off, I thought you’d be holed up somewhere far away.” She leaned against the long wooden table across the room. Almond shaped amber eyes raked her up and down and a corner of her mouth pulled up. “Wearing a lot less clothes.”

  “Are you asking me to leave, Gabrielle?” Ignoring the woman’s jabs when she was in a mood was the best policy and Becca wasn’t feeling it at the moment.

  She took a breath to comment and, judging from the twist of her features, it wasn’t going to be a nice one when someone else beat her to it.

  “Not asking you to leave, Bec, but I’m with Gabs on this one. Can’t you tone it down so the rest of us don’t have to listen to your monkey love for a little while?” Ryan breezed through wearing the black pants of his uniform minus the shirt and shoes.

  Becca was temporarily rendered speechless as the over six foot, broad shouldered Marine strode through the room, tanned skin sliding easily over powerful muscles. Tipping his head her way, he shook his shaggy auburn hair from his face so she could see the playful smile and wink. The mischievous sparkle to his green eyes told her he was kidding. Trust Ryan to diffuse a situation before it even had a chance to become one.

  Gabrielle, intimately acquainted with the big man’s physique was less impressed. “Actually, I was hoping youwould leave for a while,” she sneered. “Some of us would like a different soundtrack when we’re trying to sleep.”

  Then, surprising both of them, Ryan whirled on Gabrielle. “Why don’t you follow your own advice and ‘get some headphones’ if it bothers you?” Ryan mimicked the sneer that must have gone with the comment when originally made. Becca was not overly happy to have been discussed when she wasn’t present, especially since it obviously wasn’t very flattering.

  Gabrielle jerked her head back as if she’d been slapped, taking a sharp breath through her nose. “Fuck you, Ryan.”

  “Real eloquent, Gabs,” Ryan shot back.

  The normally sharp tongued blonde, instead of firing off a cutting remark, spun on a booted heel and stalked from the room.

  Becca’s gaze shifted to Ryan, surprised when the grin slid from his face, no satisfaction at his victory evident in his instantly gloomy expression.

  “I guess I don’t need to ask how things are going.”

  He lifted his head, managing a ghost of a smile. “Yeah, I guess that was pretty sad, huh?”

  She smiled back at him. “Not sad, just maybe a little subpar in the old bantering department.”

  He laughed, halfhearted.

  “I wish there was something I could do,” she started and he waved her off.

  “I don’t need anybody’s pity.” He straightened his spine and the room felt smaller. “I’m not the first guy to get dumped and I won’t be the last.”

  “I know,” Becca shrugged. “But I hate to see you hurting.” She put a hand on his arm. “Have you tried talking to her?”

  “Have youmet Gabrielle?”

  Becca snorted, setting off a chain reaction. Both were laughing, Ryan holding his side when Michael walked in.

  “What’s going on in here?” Bright blue eyes scanned the scene, ever vigilant.

  “Oh, hey, Michael,” Becca sniffed, wiping at her eyes. “What’s up?”

  His lips mimicked the curve of hers, her joy carrying over to him. “I heard you two and wondered what was so funny.”

  There was a heartbeat of hesitation, then Ryan guffawed. “Love, Mikey. That’s the joke.”

  Becca sobered somewhat at the pain underlying Ryan’s joking words. “Come on, Ryan, it’ll turn out, don’t lose faith.”

  “Oh it’ll turn out, all right.” His words turned bitter. “Exactly the way Gabs wants it to.” Then, as if the hopelessness in his own tone snapped him out of his mood, he shook himself and his usual grin returned. “What are we doing moping around when we’ve got all this unstructured time on our hands? Who wants to get out of here?”

  Michael looked askance at Becca, catching her shoulder raise and head tip. She was in. The warmth in his smile took her breath away and Ryan groaned.

  “Christ, you’re a sap, Sauter.” He gave her shoulder a light shove.

  A light shove to Ryan Hallbeck was a lot to absorb under normal circumstances. With her weakened muscles, further strained from the punishment she’d just put them through, the outcome was rather predictable had either one of them given it any thought. Seconds after he touched her she found herself sprawled on the floor, palms and knees stinging from scraping across the cool stone. She knew without looking that her favorite running pants were ruined.

  A snarl in her ears followed by a huge crash pulled her attention back to the men on either side of her in a beat. For a second she thought for some reason the smell of blood had Ryan close to changing, but a glance up told her it was worse. Much worse.

  Ryan was pinned, his back to the huge fireplace at the far side of where the table used to be. What remained of the sturdy wooden table littered the floor. It looked like Michael and Ryan had gone mostlythrough the huge piece of furniture, though Becca could tell from the fact that her boyfriend was still moving, he didn’t have so much as a splinter. Had the wood pierced him he would have dropped, frozen, to the ground. It was harder to tell with Ryan since wood didn’t affect him the same way, plus a very pissed off vampire was currently obstructing her view.

  “What were you thinking?” Michael ground out between clenched teeth. His w
hole body radiated ferocity; he was like a wild animal. Becca had never seen him so angry.

  No longer happy go lucky Ryan, the huge man glowered back, undaunted. “Get the hell off me, Mike. I barely touched her.”

  “Look at you.” Michael grasped the bicep in front of his face. “Now look at her.” Both fierce sets of eyes turned her way and Becca felt the urge to flee. “She’s human, they’re fragile.” As soon as he said the last, a look crossed his face and Michael’s head gave a barely perceptible shake. “She could have cracked her skull, you could have killed her.” The thought of her dead seemed to bring all of his rage flooding back and Becca stared at the glistening fangs, a thin trail of his own blood showed pink. His mouth was already healed after the emergence of his large canines though traces of the damage they caused remained.

  “Michael, please,” Becca tried to reason with him. She couldn’t let her friend suffer because of her inadequacy. “It’s not his fault, I wasn’t ready for it. He didn’t even push me that hard. It’s no big deal, I’m fine.” She tried to push herself up, to put herself between the two and keep them from tearing each other apart, but her body wouldn’t listen. Weak arms buckled under her weight and she narrowly avoided losing a tooth on the hard floor. Ryan frowned at her, clearly confused at her state.

  “Jesus, Becca,” Ryan ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t really hurt you, did I?”

  Michael turned to Becca. “That’s not the point, love.” Not forgetting his large adversary, Michael answered over his shoulder. “We’ve been who we are a long time. We know how to dial it back for them.”

  Unusually avoiding diffusion, Ryan escalated the situation. “From what I’ve been hearing you’re not dialing much back either there, Mike. Sounds an awful lot like you’re giving her everything you’ve got, whenever you can.”

  Michael’s roar nearly drowned out the sound of fist hitting flesh and Ryan’s nose exploded in a bloody spray. More thuds and cracks as Ryan fought back and the remains of the table were lost as Michael landed on it, collapsing with the broken boards to the ground.

  Adrenaline gave her what she needed to finally bring her pathetic body to her feet. Recklessly she shoved herself between the two just as Michael came back to face off again. One hand on each chest, Becca glared at Michael. “Enough, Michael.”

  His vampire nature had not yet completely taken hold or there would have been no reasoning with him. The only time she’d been near him when he’d let loose, she’d been unconscious and he’d been protecting her from a demon, but Ryan told her that when Michael went primal, you didn’t talk. You held still and hoped he didn’t notice you. Much like the wolves at the full moon. Thankfully, both men were merely blinded by testosterone, not their more base natures. The altered face regarding her sent a shiver down her spine, yet she remained firm. “Michael,” she softened her voice, waiting to see reason return to his black eyes. “I’m fine. It was me, not him. Ryan didn’t do anything wrong. I stumbled. That’s all.”

  After what felt like forever, Michael blinked. Becca watched blue bleed back into his irises and was able to breathe only after he gave another slow blink and she recognized the man she loved as being back in control. Moving slowly, he removed her hand from his chest and turned her palm up. Breaking eye contact to study her palm, he brushed it lightly with a cool finger. Becca glanced down to see, biting her lip when she did. She must have fallen harder than she thought; blood soaked his shirt and was slowly pooling in her now cupped hand. A minor twitch of her other hand and she felt it slide over Ryan’s skin. Fearing removing it might land her flat on her bottom and set off another explosion between the two men, she stayed put.

  Gently, Michael lowered his face and a longer lock of hair fell forward to hide his features. Becca wasn’t sure exactly what he was intending until she felt something cool brush her abraded flesh. Inhaling sharply at the sensation, she exhaled shakily, watching the hair on the back of Michael’s head slide forward like black silk. When he released her hand she blinked stupidly at it. It was healed. Wordless, he held out his hand for her other and she gave it to him, bracing herself on her own two shaking legs, praying she wouldn’t fall.

  When he’d finished with her hands, Michael bent to scoop her up and place her delicately on the one bench that had ensured its survival by skittering over to the far side of the fireplace.

  Becca’s eyes never strayed from Michael, noting the sudden and complete lack of tension in his features. As if he could flip a switch. She was envious.

  He knelt before her on one knee, one foot on the ground to form a flat surface. Again, incredibly careful and without speaking, he lifted one of her feet. Resting her shoe flat on his raised thigh, he hooked his thumbs under the edge of her running pants. The rustle of the fabric sliding up her leg was the only sound, other than Becca’s shaky breathing. Their eyes met and something passed behind his.Reverence was the word Becca couldn’t help thinking before he broke off and lowered his mouth to her tenderized kneecap. Her feelings of inadequacy in the face of such adoration were brief. The immediate sting of initial contact was followed by the careful, pleasantly numbing flicks of his tongue, only this time the sensation seemed to flow up her leg, directly to somewhere far more sensitive than a kneecap.

  Heart thudding in her chest, she felt her body melt. Forgotten was the fact that, moments ago, Michael had been within inches of flaying their friend alive on her behalf. Sensation became her master. With every caress of his tongue, Michael steadily brought her body under his control. Finished, he lowered one foot then went on to the other, shifting so that he knelt between her legs.

  Excruciatingly slow, he raised the hem to expose her injury. The blood had begun to cake and the fabric stuck, tearing as it was pulled free. Becca gasped and Michael’s eyes locked on hers. What she saw made her catch her breath. Entirely in his thrall, she watched as his tongue, streaked pink with her blood, reached for her wound. It should have been gross or at least clinical, but the way he touched her, spoke to her through his fingers and tongue, she could hardly think. Becca could feel her pulse between her legs, unable to stop the little sound of frustration that slipped through her lips as he continued his ministrations.

  When he was done his hand glided up her calf, working in reverse to lower her foot from his leg to the floor. Then, easing forward, Michael set his hands on either side of her body, leaning in to kiss her. Just as slow, just as deliberate as he’d healed her cuts, he licked at her lips until she opened for him. As he kissed her, Becca’s sense of self evaporated. Actions became reactions, the last vestiges of control she’d held of her thoughts and body were no longer hers, but his. Had he asked her to take off her clothes she would have done it, more than willing. She was only dimly aware when he rose and kissed her one last time before leaving. Breathing heavily, Becca gradually came back to herself and found she was alone.

  Concern for Ryan and his injuries hit her with a physical force and she briefly thought of going to offer him help. Only he wouldn’t need or even want her help after whatever portion he might have witnessed of that little floorshow. Michael couldn’t have claimed her as his any clearer had he taken a brand to her. Thank God he had stopped at making out, she sure hadn’t kept a clear enough mind. Hell, she probably would have stripped and screwed his brains out right there on the floor if he’d asked. That image in her head instantly doused her arousal in an icy shower of shame.

  When had she gotten so weak? Where was the ice queen she was once reputed to be? Was this inability to control her animal urges another side effect of the “blood crash” as she was calling the withdrawal she was suffering? She was really going to have to tell someone soon. Her heart told her she should confide in Michael. He had experience with this sort of thing, he even knew a bit about her witch heritage and how that mixed up with vampire blood ingestion. Except she couldn’t tell him. What Michael knew, Black knew. And if Black thought she was damaged it would be a death sentence. For either of them. Her for failing, him f
or defending her as she knew he would.

  Ashamed and confused she let her head fall forward, resting her arms on her thighs, sagging forward until her head was nearly level with her knees. “What am I doing?” she muttered under her breath.

  Chapter 4

  “Sir.”

  “Sit down, Michael.” Black gestured to the black chair opposite his desk. Very few individuals crossed the threshold into the admiral’s office. One knew when he was in there that it was foreign territory, it was darkened in the same manner as the entire lower of the estate for his sensitive eyesight. Even for a vampire he was unusually photosensitive. This place was for his comfort, not guests.

  Familiar with this routine, Michael closed the heavy wooden door and eased into the leather although he was far from relaxed. Becca’s response to him in the kitchen was disturbing. The Becca he knew would have reamed him for what he’d done to her friend. Loyalty was everything to her. That she gave Ryan not a second’s thought and was clearly ready to let Michael have his way with her right there while Ryan could have watched them was downright bizarre. Thankfully Ryan, having read the situation right, backed out once Becca took her hand off the wolf’s chest.