“I hope you don’t get too drunk tonight, my love,” she called to him in the other room. “I want our night to be completely memorable, and like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.”
She tied back her long blonde locks, and carried their drinks into the garage to start the magic of their evening together. As she reached his side, she ran her fingers down his cheek, and he opened his eyes to look up at her.
There was nothing but horror from him, as he registered what he saw.
But she saw only love and adoration in his gaze.
“Here is your wine. Drink up.” Quickly, she ripped the tape from his mouth and he screamed in pain, his body bowed from the tearing of flesh.
“Sorry my love,” she giggled, and squeezed his cheeks until his mouth opened, and he was forced to swallow the sickly colored mixture.
“Why are you doing this?” he gurgled through the liquid. “Why?”
“Because I love you of course. We’re meant to be together, and I won’t ever lose you again,” she said, as she ripped off another section of duct tape from the roll. “Now hold still,” she whispered in his ear, and then replaced the tape over raw bleeding skin.
He shook his head violently, and struggled to get free from the table. He didn’t understand what was going on. First he was trying to abduct the FBI woman, then he grabbed a ride with a friend, and now… The wave of dizziness hit him, and he felt like he was drunk. Whatever was in the wine glass was numbing his body. He didn’t think he could move.
“I see you’re ready for me to look deep into your eyes and stare into your soul,” she said as she pulled the tools from her pocket. “I promise, this shouldn’t hurt too much,” she whispered and kissed him on the cheek.
Bobby Lee Tills saw the scissors coming toward his eyes, and he knew what was going to happen. He screamed as one eye went blind and the pain filled his body. When the second eye went blind he prayed for the pain to stop, and then it just did.
Everything stopped in his life, as it was simply gone.
~ Chapter eight~
Wednesday morning
She lugged Deputy Bobby Lee Tills through the snow, humming as she went. It was another great date night, and she owed it all to the man she loved. It wasn’t easy to carry him, but she still managed. He seemed to lose weight since last time, and that had her worried. “I hope you’re not sick, my love,” she said, kicking open the door with a booted foot, only to stare in complete dismay and horror.
“They’re all gone!” she whispered, and looked around the room. All her lovers were gone. “Where have you all gone?” she spoke softly, but anger began to build in her chest. Someone had stolen them right out from beneath her.
She dropped his body against the wall and kicked him. “You can never trust men,” she hissed, and kicked him again and again. Until she heard the bones breaking in his side. “They always leave,” she hissed in anguish and pain.
Slowly, she regained composure, and ran her hand down her jacket. “That’s okay, I’m okay.” Deep breaths followed and then a smile.
“I’ll just have to make sure you know that I’m your true love. I think I’ll have to come back and watch to see if you try to leave me too, lover,” she sighed. “I wish I could trust you, but I just can’t seem to trust anyone.”
With that, she left the building. It was time to place his eyes with the rest of her love. Before long the hunt for the next part would begin.
But first she was going to get her men back and kill the whore that stole them away.
* * *
Desdemona slowly came awake, and something didn’t feel right. There was slow steady breathing, and her head was moving up and down, as if it rested on a chest. Before opening her eyes, she assessed the situation. Her leg lay across a body, and her senses were being assaulted with a familiar scent. It was the scent of Callen’s cologne. It was unmistakable. It was spicy and woodsy with a touch of patchouli. Exotic and delicious, just like the man himself. Well hell, she was in bed with the sexiest man alive, and her hand was inches from things that until now she could only fantasize about. Her biggest fear was if she opened her eyes, he may disappear. Desdemona weighed her options. Run for her life or just jump in and enjoy the ride.
The sane part of her said run. The man was wicked as sin and was going to end up breaking her heart. A man like him wouldn’t ever want to be with someone simple, unadventurous, and afraid of her own shadow. Then there was part of her that demanded she be that woman, take charge and surprising them both. Deep down she wanted to be Morticia Addams, just like Elizabeth. Maybe if she changed, he’d feel about her the way he obviously felt about the ‘other’ woman. It might buy her some time to change his mind.
She debated. Crap, hardest decision of her life.
“Good morning, Desi,” he said, softly. He knew exactly when she woke. Her whole body gave her away. She went from relaxed and easy breathing to tense and rigid.
Desdemona opened her eyes and faced the music. The jig was up and she was going to have to decide fast.
“Morning, Callen,” she answered, looking up at him, yet not moving her body. It felt too nice waking up with him against her.
“How did you sleep?” he asked, noticing she had the look of a trapped animal ready to run at the first given chance.
“Like a rock,” she answered, honestly. It was the truth. She obviously didn’t recall anything, or she’d know how she ended up in bed with the man and do it all over again tonight.
Whitefox wasn’t sure if he should push her, or wait for her to come to him. He had patience, but he wasn’t sure if he had that much patience. Again came the wave of protectiveness.
In the early morning light, she looked even younger. Her hair was completely down, and she had a lot of it. Most of it covered her pillow and his shoulder.
“Are you still mad at me?” she asked, forcing any emotion from her voice. Just in case he was going to hurt her.
“No, I’m not.”
Desdemona debated and made a choice. “I’m glad,” and she did what she never thought possible, she moved towards the danger and took control. She kissed him and for once in her life stopped over thinking and just dove into life.
The kiss was slow and warm until she relaxed into it, and he tensed for a change. When she broke the kiss, she didn’t miss the surprise on his face. Somehow she managed to catch Callen off guard.
He didn’t expect her to make the move, and he wasn’t ready for it. Yet now his body demanded more, and he wasn’t quite sure he could hold it back. A woman in bed kissing him was a recipe for one thing in the male mind; sex. His brain shut off and he did what he did so many times before with the countless others, he dove into the sexual pool on auto pilot. It was time to conquer.
Desdemona was enjoying the look on his face, and then she saw the moment it changed, and her heart began to pound.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Desi,” he whispered, and then rolled until she was trapped beneath him. “I have very little control today. I’ve been awake all night with you lying against me. I’m in a very dangerous mood.”
She looked up into his eyes. The look of predator was there plastered across his face, yet she believed she’d be completely safe. Well, physically she would. Emotionally she was going to be in danger, and had been since meeting him in the lab.
He waited ready to strike and was wound so tight his body was beginning to vibrate in need and want. The sexual frustration he’d felt for months was boiling to the surface and ready to ignite. Since meeting Elizabeth it was on slow simmer, and he needed to release it somehow.
Desdemona ran her hand up under his shirt and across his ribs. Baiting the tiger and pushing her luck.
Whitefox stared down at her lips, partially open, soft and delicious, and when he felt her hand caress his ribs, he knew she’d signed her fate. It was open season, and he was going to catch himself a skittish ME and make her his.
Desdemona didn’t see him move, he was so fast the
only thing she could ascertain was the crashing of lips to lips, and then mating of heated tongues. The kiss was wild and out of control, and yet, he was careful of her split lip, tender but dangerous, wild but controlled. She let it sweep her away, into something she’d never felt before in her life.
Whitefox tasted her, taking more and more until they both surfaced, gasping for breath.
“If you have any intention of stopping me, Desi, now’s the time to do it. I won’t stop later,” he warned her, just in case she planned on bolting as the morning progressed. In his mind he was already planning the next step. Part of him screamed that he shouldn’t be plotting, but fully immersed in the act. Again, he ignored his heart.
Debate occurred and was pushed aside in Desdemona’s mind. How often in her life was a man of Whitefox’s caliber going to want to have sex with her? She wasn’t giving this up for anything. This was stuff hot sweaty dreams were made of, and she was wide awake for a change. If she passed this up, she would need to make an appointment with a psychiatrist. Only a complete nut job would pass up a romp with Callen.
He watched her eyes, and they were clear of doubt. When her hand traversed up his shoulder and sunk into his own long hair, free from being tied back, he felt himself throb at the intimacy.
Desdemona pulled him back down, using his hair against him. The long silky brown hair was always pulled back in a long ponytail down his back. Yet more evidence the man was exotically Native. She kissed him this time, and his hands began wandering, and she thought she’d burst into flames at any second.
Tentatively she did the same, until he broke the kiss and sat up, ripping off his shirt, and returning right back to where he’d left off. Holy crap! More naked man and she was on fire. When he began moving down her neck and to her throat, leaving kisses she felt bliss, and when he bit her shoulder, she gasped his name.
Whitefox just wanted to devour her, and he tried. When she moaned his name in that shocked breathy gasp, he was lost. He had to have her, all of her. Kneeling above her, he pulled her shirt from her body, and stared down at her. Yeah, she may be small and compact, but Desdemona had a nice body. She wasn’t focused on his face, but looking straight in front of her at his hardened body, ready to find a home.
Something made her want to just touch him, and she reached out, and ran her fingers across the front of his jeans, to the bulge waiting for her. Just stroking him through the material excited him, and pulled a moan from deep within his chest. It called to her, and made her want to be bolder and wilder.
She flicked open the button and slid the zipper down.
Whitefox didn’t know if she was a scared rabbit, or a feisty vixen. Just when he thought she would run in fear, she touched him tentatively. “More,” he demanded, pleased when she obeyed.
She freed him, taking him in her hand. He was hard, silky and completely smooth against the palm of her hand. She tested the water, stroking him once, then twice, and then she did something so completely un-Desdemona like. She tasted him, licking him and then sliding him into her waiting mouth.
When she stroked him with her warm fingers, tracing patterns across his erection, he was a happy man. The warm wet slide of her hand and her tongue was making him crazy. Callen closed his eyes, and dropped his head back just to enjoy the way she was worshipping his body. So many thoughts flooded his mind, and he forced himself to think about the woman touching his body and no one else.
She could feel him shaking and enjoyed the moment. Never had she felt that free and uninhibited with a man before and it felt really good. Never had she wanted to feel this way with a man, Callen just brought it out in her and at the same time she knew the truth, and pushed it down for the time being.
“No control today,” he muttered between clenched teeth, as she began stroking, licking and then sucking. He looked down at her, and just the visual was more than he could take. Something in him snapped and he pushed her from his erection and enjoyed the surprised look in her face. Ripping her FBI sweats from her legs, he enjoyed the fact she wore nothing beneath them. Less work for him to get to the part of her he wanted desperately. Frustration demanded he take what he needed from her. Now he wanted to just forget, like he had before with so many other women.
“Callen,” she whispered, as he pulled her legs apart and took his place between them.
“No gentleness, Desi,” he hissed in her ear, and felt her shake. He didn’t even have the patience to remove his jeans. Whitefox was that desperate to quench the need in his body from months of torment at another woman’s hands.
She swallowed and nodded, as he found her wet and ready and pushed into her hard and fast.
“Christ so tight,” he muttered, as he had to take a moment to regain his control. He opened his eyes to see her looking up at him, still no fear present, and she too was breathing hard. “Ready?” he asked when he was finally able to regain the power of speech.
She couldn’t answer, he was filling her to capacity, and it was the most delicious feeling she’d ever had in her life. Again, she just nodded, and her hands went to his shoulders, and then she lost the ability to think, as he started moving and there was just too much pleasure.
Desdemona was tight and like a satin lined glove. Slowly he pulled out, and slid back into place fast.
They both gasped and then came together again and again.
Part of him wanted to slow down, offer her so much pleasure, but the wildness in him was in control. He couldn’t slow down, he wanted harder and faster. To the point it was merciless pounding of his body into hers. Now his mind wandered, and he let it, as he visualized the woman he wanted desperately.
The breathless moans kept slipping from her lips, and when he switched the angle, and continued he found just the right spot. Light erupted, and shattered around her is such an explosion she couldn’t breathe.
When Whitefox heard her moan his name, and then the tightening of her body around him, he wasn’t going to last long. One more stroke, then two, and then on the third he slammed home, erupted hotly, and followed her into the white bliss.
Desdemona couldn’t feel anything but him lying over her body, and then she could feel the room spinning and she was no longer on the bottom. Callen had her across his body, and his arms protectively around her.
“You okay?” he asked, when he could speak again.
She laughed.
“I guess that’s a yes?” he looked down at her, and she had her eyes closed and a smile on her lips.
“That was most definitely a yes, Callen.” When she opened her eyes, she could see the worry on his face. “What’s wrong?” Immediately she began to worry, maybe he hadn’t enjoyed it, or she did something wrong.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked softly, running his fingers over the cut in her lip. The guilt was now there, and not because she had a cut on her lip but because he was thinking of another woman while having sex with her. Callen pushed it down, praying it would just seep away.
It touched her heart. He wasn’t going to tell her she sucked in bed, he was worried about her. She lost another part of her heart right there and then. “Nope, I’m perfectly content,” she said running her fingers over the tattoo on his abs.
“I’m glad.”
“Why a fox?” she asked, curiously.
Whitefox pulled the blanket up around them and thought about her question. “Ethan and I grew up very Native,” he answered. “When we both were young, we picked spirit guides. Our grandfather used to call us the Raven and the Fox. Ethan was the big brother that watched over us, and I was the fox, the younger brother that managed to always find us trouble,” he paused when she laughed.
“Yeah, you’re trouble alright. So I think you picked the right spirit guide.”
He grinned wickedly. “You wouldn’t be the first woman that’s told me I’m trouble.”
Oh, Desdemona had no doubt about that. She didn’t understand the whole ‘Native’ spirit guide thing, it always seemed silly to her as a scientist. Well th
at and her grand-mère scoffed at anything Native. In fact, if she knew about Callen, she’d lose it.
Callen noticed the guard coming back up, and the hard shell to protect her returning. He didn’t understand why she didn’t see what he saw. Everything in him wanted to make her feel better, after all he owed her that much.
“I may be trouble, but there’s no one I’d rather be trouble with, Desi.”
She looked at him wondering if he was being honest or not. Men said lots of things, especially after sex.
“I promise next time I’ll take my time and prove it to you.” And not think about another woman- or try.
Desdemona changed the subject. “So, what’s growing up on a reservation like?” She was genuinely curious.
“Horrible, destitute, miserable, poor,” he paused. “Want to visit it?” Now he was laughing. He was glad he escaped the Rez, and now he had a well-paying job, a life he loved, and a woman that he needed to persuade to stay with him. What he wanted was the life his brother had built, and he conspired to copy it.
She continued to run her fingers over the fox, tracing it, and enjoying the way his muscles rippled at her touch. “I’d love to visit it. Do you still live on one?”
“My cabin is on the Rez and not far from my brother’s house. But I’m thinking of moving off it, once my grandfather is gone.” Those words stung, but he knew he only stayed because of Timothy and obligation.
Desdemona heard the change in his voice.
“I’ll take you to see it, if you want,” he said, impressed she was curious. Also he thought back to what Elizabeth had said. The family patriarch demanded to meet her. If they were going to have a relationship, they were going to have to go back at some point.
“I’d like that,” she said.
“What was the bayou like?” Callen Whitefox wondered if she’d tell him the truth about her life, or if she’d evade.
“Horrible, destitute, miserable, poor,” she laughed, as she used the same words he used. “But my grand-mère made it tolerable. When my mom disappeared, she was all I had left and because of her ‘unique’ job, it was fun. There were the snakes, bugs, roots, and of course the gators. We didn’t have a lot growing up, but honestly I never realized it. Everyone around us was in the same financial state. It was just the bayou.”
True Love Lost (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 3)) Page 22
