In the Crossfire (Bloodhaven)

by Lynn Graeme

  She cleared it up for him. “Much of your file was redacted.”

  He could feel her eyes on him. He refused to look at her.

  “Will you tell me about it?” she asked gently.

  He’d rather choke. He was already halfway there. “No.”

  “Why?”

  He didn’t want her to know about his captivity. The things he’d done. The price he’d paid.

  He didn’t want her to stop looking at him in the same way anymore. He didn’t want her to stop trusting him in Naley’s company. He didn’t want her to stand up and leave, to shun his company on her front steps as they studied the night and listened to the whispers in the breeze.

  “Liam?”

  “I don’t want you to know.” The words came out harsher than he’d intended.

  Hazel eyes held steady on him. “Do you think I’ll judge you? Do you think my own hands are free from blood? What the hell do you think I did today?”

  Liam shook his head. “What you did—what you do on an everyday basis—you do for the common good. To take out rogues and factions. To avoid another damn war. Necessary evils. My own—”

  “Don’t paint the Council in such a perfect, luminous light, Liam,” Isobel cut in sharply. “There’s a reason it’s imbued in secrecy. There’s a reason we agents are given the side-eye. You don’t know about the ones we take out. The ones whose names you never hear again. The innocents who had to be sacrificed. All in the name of preserving the peace.”

  “You wouldn’t allow an innocent to be sacrificed.”

  “Are you that certain? Best tear down that pedestal you’ve put me on, Liam. I never asked for it to built.”

  He glared at her. “Have you ever killed someone you knew was innocent?”

  She returned his glare.

  “Have you?”

  “Casualties are inevitable.”

  “Have you directly—personally—killed somebody who did nothing to deserve it?”

  She hadn’t. Her lack of reply confirmed it. Her lips curled in a snarl. “Do you think me so blind to the Council’s actions? Were you blind to your unit’s?”

  “Yes,” he bit out. “I was.”

  He’d been so blind in the beginning, truly thinking he was doing his duty. That there’d been a purpose to their actions, to the orders they’d carried out. He’d remained blind until the blood and screams had clawed the scales from his eyes. Until he’d heard the humans’ desperate pleas for mercy. Until he’d been captured and forced to witness his comrades’ torture, and to endure his own.

  Until they’d turned on each other while their captors watched with glee.

  Liam was on his feet in an instant, pacing rapidly, ready to crawl out of his skin. He whirled around and glared at Isobel, who sat there as still as stone.

  “You don’t set out targeting innocents,” he bit out. “I did. I was the best tracker in my unit. I led my team straight to the human detachments, blindly following orders, simply because we were at fucking war. I led the charge to where they hid and I watched them burn.”

  And later, when he’d been a prisoner himself—when they got their hands on him—they’d made sure he bloody paid for it.

  His fists clenched at his sides. Somewhere deep inside he was shaking, and he knew that if he stayed for much longer that tremble would travel outward, pushing through the surface so violently he was bound to rip himself apart. He’d say something he’d regret, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

  “I have to go,” he said, backing away.

  Isobel didn’t move. Her face, usually deceptively calm and void of emotion, revealed everything now. He’d said too much.

  His feet took him swiftly down the drive, right to the front gates where he used his code to exit the premises and disappear into the darkness.

  Chapter Six

  Liam’s ears pricked at the faint tread of footsteps. He lay there unmoving in the midnight shadows, staring up at the weathered rafters above his bed. The presence silently approached his cabin, gliding forth on dewed grass. Seductive winter smoke steeped into his senses.

  He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Then he got up and pulled on a pair of jeans. He started to reach for a shirt, but after a moment he let his hand fall. Pointless to want to cover up like a shy virgin. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already seen him in broad daylight.

  He padded to the doorway. Isobel’s small, curved frame stood there in the dirt clearing.

  “I expected you to be out running,” she said. “Did I wake you?”

  So she was aware of his wolf loping around the premises at night. Liam shook his head.

  She studied him. “Should I apologize?”

  Another shake of the head. “Still my turn.”

  “Tell you what: let’s just call a truce and forget who’s sorry for what. Skip this whole dance.”

  “Dance?”

  “I pry, you bolt, we come back to position. It’s a repetitive waltz. Why don’t we… . Let’s just fumble through this together, all right? I won’t take offense if you don’t. You can snap at me all you want. I can take it.”

  Liam expelled a breath. “Why would you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why would you take it? You don’t take crap from anyone, so why tolerate it from me? I don’t want those kid gloves.”

  Her eyes glinted in the dark. “If I were employing kid gloves, I’d let you keep bolting. I don’t care if you blow up at me, Liam. I don’t care if you just… .” She huffed, started to turn away. Then she spun back to face him. “Just stay, Liam. Stay and yell. Throw a chisel. Something. You can have your space, all the space you want. But don’t ever feel like you have to run, like you have to spare me. ”

  He swallowed. He stepped away from the cabin, stepped closer to her.

  “You’ve never pressed me on my past,” he observed, voice low and rough.

  “You know I looked up your file.”

  “Which had redacted sections. Yet you never demanded to know what it hid. Why is that?”

  Something flickered in her eyes, but her voice was quiet when she spoke. “We’ve both done things in the line of duty that we can never share. I have my secrets, Liam. It was only fair I let you have yours.”

  He let out a slow breath. “You think it’s so easy? A matter of keeping our own secrets?”

  “No, I know it’s not.” She glanced away. “My father served in the third war.”

  He traced her profile. Feminine, classic, limned in moonlight. Dipped in steel.

  “Even after all this time, he still won’t speak about what he went through, at least not to me or my sister.” She paused. “He took up a diplomatic post after his service. He’s been stationed the world over, taking our family with him. He’s taught me a lot over the years. About honor and dignity, about taking a stand when all you want to do is break.”

  Liam shifted, watching the myriad of emotions dance across Isobel’s face. For that moment in time, she’d let down the impassive mask she wore so well.

  She returned her gaze to him. “My father has his medal framed on the mantelpiece, but he still won’t talk about what he went through.”

  It took a strong, forceful man to raise an equally strong, forceful daughter. Yet apparently he, too, remained haunted by his past. Couldn’t escape even after all these years.

  A cold dread swept into Liam’s bones that had nothing to do with the night air. He didn’t want to spend the next twenty years feeling this way. He didn’t want to feel this way now.

  But he’d already decided, hadn’t he, that he no longer wanted to keep moving? The longer he spent here, the more he wanted to stay. The more he wanted to stay with her.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “What do you mean?” She sounded startled.

  He stalked closer. Her eyes darted down to his bare chest, then quickly flew up to his, but it was too late. He’d seen it.

  Closer again. He heard her breathing quicke
n. He saw, through the darkness, beneath honeyed skin, a flush of red sweep up the tops of her breasts to her neck and cheeks.

  “Why do you want me to stay?” he asked softly. His heart pounded, waiting for her answer.

  “I … I like your company, Liam.” She licked her lips, tried a dismissive shrug. “Few enough people I can say that about.”

  She continued to stare at him, eyes traversing the rugged and ragged landscape of his torso. Her gaze veered lower. Liam felt himself stirring, growing hard, just as her soft lips parted and a hitch in her breath escaped her. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly beneath the scooped neckline of her fitted tank. She couldn’t take his eyes off him, and he felt a ridiculous, foreign urge to puff up with pride.

  He scented her arousal.

  His wolf growled with need.

  Her head jerked up. She cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she said, and the husky quality nearly did Liam in. “Don’t mind me. I’m just … off tonight. On edge. I’ll take care of it.”

  He stilled. “Take care of it?”

  “Yeah. Don’t worry. It’s not the first time I’ve emerged from a high-stress mission wanting… .” She waved a hand. “You know.”

  “Sex.”

  “Yeah.”

  Liam’s nostrils flared. His heart rate kicked up.

  “Ah,” he said, voice rough.

  “It’s either decompress via sex or violence. You know how it is.” A thought must’ve occurred to Isobel, because she eyed him speculatively.

  She was wondering which option he’d chosen. Liam’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Neither for me, I’m afraid.”

  He’d been young when he’d enlisted. A mere twenty-two. He’d known very little about what to expect amid all the bloodshed and carnage. It had been the height of war, and his superiors had thrown them all into the deep end with little mental preparation. He’d reeled during those initial days of battle.

  In the beginning, before the worst of it, he’d let himself be intimate with a fellow soldier. They’d sought release and consolation in one another. Later, however, as their unit had drowned deeper and deeper in the furor, Liam had found himself seeking her out less and less. He’d known there could be no tenderness left in him. He’d seen too much, done things he could never come back from.

  The last time he’d had sex, he’d seen a grinning skull in place of his partner’s face mid-coitus. He’d pulled out abruptly and left, with her confused gasps still ringing in his ears. He never sought her out again.

  Decompress via sex or violence, Isobel had said. So he could’ve chosen to purge his pain via violence instead, but that had never come naturally to him. He was a simple carpenter, who thanks to his tracking skills had been tasked with leading not just his own unit but others as well to enemy encampments. He’d witnessed the brutality committed by his fellow soldiers. He’d gone through the same himself when he’d been captured and chained up like a dog.

  He felt sick at the thought of regurgitating the same measure of violence he’d spent years trying to escape. So he suppressed it all, cramming the feelings back down his own throat, anything to keep from lashing out and hurting anyone again.

  He was startled out of his memories by a light touch on his arm.

  Isobel stood before him. So close, so warm. Her forehead creased in concern. She tempted him so much.

  He thought about heading back inside his cabin and shutting the door. Maybe doing laps around the perimeter and burning it out of his system.

  But he wasn’t supposed to bolt again, was he? They’d decided on a new dance.

  He stared down at Isobel, unable to tear his eyes away. He recalled her earlier words, felt a corresponding tug deep in his gut. He was hard with pure want. “You’ll take care of it, you said.”

  She colored and dropped her hand to her side. “I… . Yes.”

  “By yourself?”

  He was getting too personal, but he didn’t care. All he could picture in his head was Isobel on her bed, legs spread, hot and wet as she touched herself. Pinching her nipples as she slipped her fingers into her wet slit. Or using a toy. He could easily see her owning an array of toys to ease a pounding, unforgivably high sex drive.

  He wanted to know what made her scream.

  Isobel stared back at him, unblinking. A dark thought suddenly twisted through Liam. The words scraped out of his throat with abrupt fury: “Or with someone else?”

  Whoever this unknown, unseen male was, Liam immediately hated him. It was irrational; Liam was well aware that he had no prior claim on Isobel. He didn’t care. He hated this male who was apparently familiar with Isobel’s body, who enjoyed her mouth and legs and knew precisely where to suck to make her come.

  He couldn’t suppress a snarl.

  Isobel stepped back. “I have a list.”

  “Of … candidates?” He was nonplussed.

  She glared defensively. “I’m discerning when it comes to my sexual partners.”

  Liam gazed at her, his breaths turning quick and shallow. His hands fisted by his sides, skin prickling in silent demand. A riot of emotions rolled through him.

  So she was on edge, was she? Restless and needing to do something about it? Well, he’d been on edge for far, far longer than she had.

  “How does one get on this list?”

  Isobel’s eyes widened at his silky tone.

  “Go on. I bet background checks are involved.”

  “Obviously.”

  Done that. “And then? What else?”

  “Sexual compatibility.” Her voice turned cool with challenge. One he was only too willing to accept.

  “And you confirm this compatibility by… ?”

  Her nipples beaded underneath her tank, visible even through her bra. “A test run. Or three.”

  Oh, yes. Challenge definitely accepted.

  She drew back. She clearly didn’t know what to make of him. Liam found himself enjoying this new dynamic. He moved forward, matching her step by step.

  “And they have to be Council agents.”

  “Why?” He tilted his head. “Do they know special positions?”

  Her pupils dilated. A quick scent and he knew she was wet between her thighs.

  “They know the score,” she replied shortly, though she couldn’t keep the breathlessness from her voice.

  “Show me the score, then. In elaborate detail.”

  A startled laugh escaped her. Isobel stepped to the side. “I … don’t think so, Liam.”

  They were circling each other now, like warriors in a ring, assessing each other from head to toe. Liam found his wolf satisfyingly intrigued. Already the animal inside was stretching, doing a little prowling of its own. Watching. Gauging.

  This was one dance Liam knew he’d enjoy. The cautious, enticing play of advance and retreat. The slow beginnings of a chase. The allure of the hunt.

  One step, then another. A third brought him just inches away before Isobel lifted a hand and pressed it flat on his chest. He nearly hissed at the sizzle of contact.

  “I think,” she said softly, “you want to take off running right now. But you’ve already bolted earlier this evening, and you don’t want to exhaust your quota, so now you want to distract me. Provoke me. Send me running instead.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “You want me off-kilter. I’m not that easily intimidated, Liam.”

  She gently pushed back. For a moment he resisted the slight pressure. He grabbed her wrist, tugging her closer. Her eyes flared, and he felt triumph at the knowledge that she felt this electric current between them as well. However the hell she’d managed to hide it before, she couldn’t hide it now. She felt it. She couldn’t deny it. She knew.

  Her fingers curled, and Liam felt the scrape of her nails along his chest. A bite of exquisite pleasure. He wanted more.

  Their gazes held for a long, suspended moment in time. It was punctuated only by the sound of their uneven breathing, air sawing in and out of them, heavy with need
and demand.

  Then she stepped back, and the contact was broken.

  “If you’re angry at me, be angry,” she told him unsteadily. “Don’t run, don’t try to intimidate me. I told you, I can handle it.”

  “Why do you think I’m angry at you? Just because I want you? You’re a beautiful woman, Isobel. It shouldn’t be a surprise.”

  “You want an excuse to leave. I won’t give you one. You’re my tenant, Liam. And strangely—or maybe not so strangely—I find I rather like your company. I’d hate to lose you.”

  “So, what, you’ll evict me if I don’t perform up to the standards of your list?” Liam smiled, almost predatory. “I promise I’ll do quite well.”

  Another step back. Her eyes narrowed as she jutted out her chin. “So we have sex. Then what? You’d run, Liam. You know you will. I’m not going to help provide you with a reason to do so. What I want may be purely physical, no strings attached, but I refuse to be anyone’s excuse. So if you want to go, go, but don’t you dare pin this one on me.”

  She turned to leave. In two strides Liam was upon her. He seized her by those rounded hips he loved so well, spun her around to face him, and yanked her into his arms.

  “You think it would be that powerful between us, then?” he growled between clenched teeth. “Explosive enough to send me running? Oh, poor Liam, such a fragile wolf. Don’t spook him or he might run. He might break. Guess what, sweetheart: you can’t break what’s already broken.”

  Isobel furiously wrestled her hands between their bodies, ready to push, he knew. Before she could move he grazed his lips over the cusp of her ear, his whisper unrecognizably dark and gravel-rough: “Do your worst.”

  He felt a shiver run through her body, and could’ve howled with triumph. She was tempted, he knew. Tempted, edgy, and needy. Damn him to hell for taking advantage of that. Damn him for refusing to feel guilty about it.

  He’d hungered for her for so long. He’d craved her like a drug, had set that craving aside all this time because she hadn’t betrayed even an inkling of awareness of him as a man. He hadn’t been about to force an awkwardness between them. But he saw the truth now. Isobel was a master at disguising her feelings, of masking her attraction. She kept that expressionless wall up all the time, and now he could see through the cracks. He’d tear down that wall with his bare hands until they were bruised and bleeding, but he wouldn’t stop. Not this time.