They didn’t have any other choice—there were no animals to hunt, nor did the Other land have enough vegetation to support life. The land was literally a buckle in the Earth, little more than magic-sensitive silver, air and rock. The passageway had been buried in a vein of silver and lay inert and undetected until with a few small, controlled blasts, the Nirvana Company had blown it open. The Company blocked the area off and told the legitimate miners the area was unsafe. The passage itself kept the workers captive, since none of them had a spark of Power with which to make the return journey.
Such a lot of fuss over a piece of real estate that was destined by federal law to go unclaimed by anyone.
The downfall of the already wealthy Bradshaw family was greed. Once they uncovered the pocket of Other land and realized what they had found, they had to mine it. They couldn’t use the local pool of workers and still hope to keep their activities secret, so they imported workers. As Scott Bradshaw said when he was arrested and questioned in the hospital, one thing led to another.
Bradshaw Senior lived. He was arrested in the hospital too.
When Claudia thought of the seven graves, she wished when she had pulled the trigger that she had made it a kill shot. Instead she’d tagged him high in the shoulder, enough to incapacitate him.
When Luis and the other Peacekeepers arrived, she got to sit back and enjoy watching the take down like prime-time TV. The only thing missing was the popcorn.
Good Christ, did Luis have moves. He was all power and grace, and sex-savvy smarts. She watched him with an odd kind of pained pride. She recognized talent when she saw it, and his star was definitely on the rise. He was the total package. It wouldn’t be long before he held a Senior Peacekeeper position.
Even as he chased Rodriguez down and pinned him to the pavement, Luis raised his head and searched for her. She lifted a hand and waggled her fingers. Soon as he caught sight of her, he left Rodriguez handcuffed and spread-eagled on the ground and raced toward her, climbing up to her ledge with athletic effortlessness.
He went into a frenzy when he discovered she had taken damage from chips of rock that had ricocheted during the firefight. She hadn’t slept since early the previous morning, and she was too tired to fend off his fussing, so she let him do what he wanted. He bandaged three deep cuts and several nicks then he ran his hands gently down her body, dark eyes sharp with concern as he checked for further wounds.
All right, who was she kidding, she might have enjoyed that a little bit too. She didn’t even need to climb down off the ledge. Luis got his Djinn buddy to give her a ride. All in all, it was a cushy wrap-up.
He insisted she get medical treatment, and an EMT suggested stitches. Then Luis scared up a healing potion from somewhere. She never did find out from where. He would not stop harping at her until she drank it. Then more enforcement people arrived and there were the inevitable questions, a whole shitload of them.
She asked for coffee and got it, and she savored the hot caffeine as she answered the questions patiently. For the most part, Luis wasn’t present because he had his own job to do and people to answer to. But it just so happened that he was present for her full explanation of the bar confrontation, and his earlier frenzy was nothing compared to the rage that detonated in his body then.
She could feel it pouring off him in deadly waves as he sat beside her, until she couldn’t stand it. She gripped his forearm hard until she drew his attention, and she recognized Junior’s death blazing in Luis’s eyes.
She just looked at the whole great, clenched length of that splendid man, and she gave him a small smile, and she wouldn’t let go until he calmed. It took a while, and that was okay. For him, she had discovered she had all the time in the world, if only he knew it.
Then all at once the tension in his body uncoiled. He blew out a breath, covered her hand with his and let it go, and somehow it all combined to make her fall into the most impossible, complete and inappropriate love with him.
The realization was gorgeous, hellish. She drew back and felt more wounded than she had ever felt in her life. She could tell he sensed something serious was wrong, but it wasn’t an acceptable topic for discussion, so she did the only thing she knew to do. She went deep into herself, into silence.
Claudia. Was. Driving. Luis. Bat shit.
She’d dealt with the chaos at the mine entrance with the poise of an accomplished professional, answered the barrage of questions with dignity and tolerance, and she’d reacted to the news from the mine with compassion. He thought he might be able to gaze at her for the rest of his life and learn something about intelligent decency in the face of adversity.
The more he watched her, the more he couldn’t look away.
He stopped noticing other women. Once, when he paid to gas up the Jeep, it was only when he saw disappointment droop the pretty cashier’s shoulders that he realized, belatedly, that the woman had been trying to flirt with him.
But something had happened. Something had caused Claudia to stop speaking to him.
Oh, she spoke to him. She wasn’t rude, and she didn’t subject him to total silence. But something essential had shifted. A wall had come between them, and he could even pinpoint when the change had occurred.
She had been looking right at him. He’d seen her eyes widen as if she’d been struck a blow. Then her expression smoothed over, and she’d started to treat him with the same competent fucking professionalism as she treated everyone else.
Before, they’d shared a connection. It was open, caring and vital, and it mattered to him. He didn’t think it had just vanished. She’d buried it for some reason. He’d waited for a while because he kept expecting it to change back, that the connection would return to the surface, but it hadn’t. And then he’d grown pissed at her for taking that away from him.
After the mine shut down, the days progressed. Luis had a long talk with his grandmother. He promised to visit her soon, but for the moment he had work to do. There was always cleanup after a case, and this one was particularly messy. Jackson returned from Fresno. Claudia stayed in the back trailer, and Luis took one of Jackson’s spare bedrooms. Luis told himself he took Jackson’s invitation because he didn’t feel like sharing a motel room with another Peacekeeper, but really, he knew better.
Raoul, the Peacekeeper Djinn, found a nine-hole golf course just west of town. The Djinn loved any kind of sport, and so did Luis. After work one evening, in an effort to blow off steam, he went with Raoul to thwack a golf ball around the course a couple of times. The layout of the holes was basic, and the course wasn’t very well maintained, so they soon lost interest and went drinking instead.
Claudia honored the “don’t go anywhere” admonition she’d been given. She spent a lot of time quietly reading and avoiding reporters. More often than not, she, Jackson and Luis ate dinner together, their conversations dominated by the latest discovery from the mine. Since they were all indifferent cooks, they took turns picking up takeout from the diner.
By the third day, Luis’d had it.
There was no drama, no explosion. He just got tired of waiting for things to change, so he went on the offensive. It felt good to finally follow his instincts, to stop throttling back, and, he had to be honest, it felt good to be challenged.
He started out small, stalking Claudia in subtle ways over the next few days. When they stood talking, he got a bit too close, invading her space. At the dinner table, when she passed the salt to him, he reached a little too far for it, closing his hand over hers. He slid his fingers down the length of her hand until he could grasp the shaker. Her bland expression didn’t change, but her pupils dilated, and sudden arousal thrummed low, rhythmic notes in her scent.
And there it was again, the connection.
He was clever enough not to show his triumph.
She liked to go running early. On the seventh morning, she emerged from the trailer, dressed in running clothes with her pale hair pulled back.
He was waiting for her i
n his Wyr form. She jerked to a halt when she saw him sitting in the yard, and this time she looked shaken. He didn’t wag his tail. He just waited for her to make up her mind.
She came slowly down the steps. “Oh, Precious,” she said. For some reason she sounded sad. For the first time in days she touched him voluntarily, laying a gentle hand on his head. Everything inside of him concentrated on the sensation of the warm, light weight of her palm resting on him. Deeper and more profound than pleasure, he felt comfort and recognition. She rubbed one of his ears before her hand fell away.
When he stood, his shoulders came up to her waist. She turned and started to run. He flowed along the ground beside her, his powerful body moving effortlessly, and for a while they shared perfect, seamless movement. The colors of the morning were so pure and new, they were downright righteous, and the air was biting cold. He could have run forever with her like that, but of course it had to end as the obligations of the day took over.
Later, when he let himself into Jackson’s house, around five, Luis found a note. Jackson had been called away on a vet emergency. They should eat dinner without him.
Luis thought about that. It was Claudia’s turn to get takeout. He went out the back, knocked on the trailer door and a moment later she opened it. The westering sun caught her full in the face, shining on her sleek, shoulder-length pale hair and turning her green eyes emerald. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and it was so goddamn erotic to see how that shirt molded to her tight, lean torso. His gaze fell down her length.
She was barefoot.
Suddenly he was rock hard with agonized hunger.
He looked up again and smiled. “Pick up meat loaf dinners for me and Jackson?”
“Sure,” she said. She glanced past him at the empty space where Jackson parked his truck. “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. Where’s Dan?”
“He’ll be back,” Luis said.
She nodded. “Give me half an hour.”
“You bet.”
He went back to the house to take a quick shower, putting on jeans and a T-shirt too. Then he let himself into the trailer to wait for her. He stopped dead just inside the door.
After a week, her possessions had gradually taken over the trailer until evidence of her stay was everywhere. Not that she was untidy; she was very neat. But there were books, movies she borrowed from Jackson’s collection, her suitcase, the laptop, phone and charger, the Tarot deck.
Until now. Everything was packed, and she had cleaned. The laptop was stored in its case, and an open canvas bag held her paperbacks and phone, and the Tarot deck sat neatly on top.
Man, she was slamming that wall into place again with a vengeance.
Emotion roared through him, a gigantic, silent outcry that gnawed at his bones like acid. Oh, no you don’t, he said to the emptiness.
No, you don’t.
Claudia stepped into the trailer, carrying three Styrofoam containers and a paper bag full of the requisite dinner rolls, and it was her turn to stop dead just inside the door.
Violence lounged on the end of the sofa, and it looked a lot like Luis. He was playing with the Tarot deck, his big, brown hands dexterous as he handled the cards.
She took in his set expression and blazing eyes. Yeah, she wasn’t going to go anywhere near that. She stepped away, into the miniscule kitchen area. “Where’s Dan?”
“Vet emergency.”
She set the dinners on the counter, listening to him shuffle the deck. Snap. Snap. Snap. She looked at the table. He was snapping each card as he laid them down in what looked like a basic spread, but he clearly wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing.
She said, “You knew Dan was out on the emergency before, didn’t you?”
His sensual mouth drew tight. “Yep.”
Dinner lost its appeal. She turned and leaned back against the kitchen sink. “I’m leaving in the morning.”
“I got that when I came inside and found your bags packed.” He slapped the rest of the deck down, stood and walked toward her. He still hadn’t found time to get his hair cut, and the ends of it flopped in his eyes. The angry heat in his expression blinded her to everything else.
“Don’t crowd me,” she said as he came close. He didn’t listen but he also didn’t touch her. It was a damn fine line between what was too close and what was too much, and he walked that line well. He braced his hands on the overhead cabinets on either side of her, the heavy muscles of his triceps bunching as he leaned his weight on his arms and looked at her.
She could control her actions but she couldn’t control her reaction to him. He pulled it from her, until she felt it flaring from her skin like a fever.
He said softly, “We have a topic of conversation we shelved a while back.”
“We don’t have anything to talk about,” she said. She forced herself to breathe evenly. “I’m a forty-year-old human woman, and you’re what—a twenty-five-year-old Wyr?”
“Twenty-seven.”
Her eyebrows quirked, mocking the difference. “Twenty-seven,” she said. “You have your whole life ahead of you, and it’s going to be a hell of a lot longer than a human one. While I am not ever going to be any better than what I am right now, and what I am right now isn’t going to last very long. You’re starting your career. I just ended one. We are perfectly mismatched.”
“Then why do we fit so well?” he whispered.
“We don’t.” She glared, suddenly as angry with him as she had ever been with anyone. She would never have children. She might have twenty more years left, or she might have forty, and all of those years would be spent aging. She would be dead before she saw any similar signs of aging in a Wyr of his years. “And I do not go for younger men.”
“Try convincing your body of that,” he said. He leaned forward and kissed her.
And kissed her. And he was too goddamn clever for his own good, because if he had been diffident and had pulled back, she could have regained some ground. As it was, all the blood in her body was pounding so loudly she couldn’t think, she could only feel that generous, sensual, optimistic mouth of his moving on hers with a kind of pleading hunger he had not let himself verbalize.
He kissed her like he was starving. He kissed her like she was the first woman he had ever kissed, and heh, well, she knew that couldn’t be true, but it was a fine, fine fairy tale, and good Christ, it was irresistibly seductive. Before she could stop herself, her mouth was moving in response to his.
Angry. She was angry at him. At something. Falling in love with this incredible man hurt like a heart attack. She grabbed his thick, too-long hair and yanked it. His hands came down from the cupboard. He snatched her against him, and the pleading hunger that his gorgeous, sensitive lips communicated so eloquently became a ravening need. A sound came out of him when his tongue stroked along hers, something between a groan and a whine, and his big body started to shake.
He said her name against her lips then he pulled back just far enough so that she could see how the passion darkened his skin and brought a breakable expression into his eyes.
Suddenly her own hurt vanished, and she realized the extent of her own foolishness. The only and forever, and falling in love—that was all in her mind. He didn’t need to know the full story of what she felt. She was robbing herself of a rare, wonderful opportunity tonight if she denied this, and him.
“It’s okay, Luis,” she whispered. She put her arms around his neck and held him tight. “It’s all right.”
He was burning up. He ran his huge, flattened hands down the gentle curve of her back, and he gripped her hips. She was surprised when he pulled away. Then realization lanced into her as he knelt, lifted the hem of her t-shirt and teased open the fastening of her jeans.
“Jesus,” she said as he kissed her flat, tight stomach.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for days. And days. And days.” His breath blasted the tiny hairs on her sensitive skin, and she listed drunkenly against the counter. He eased he
r shoes and socks off, then yanked her jeans down to her ankles, breathing hard. Then her underwear, until the pale, silken tangle of her pubic hair was bared. She had a scar on her hip, one of the times she got grazed by enemy fire. His trembling fingers traced the path of the mark on her skin. He breathed, “Hook your leg over my shoulder.”
She hissed a curse, because now he made her shake all over too. At his coaxing, she balanced her weight on one wobbly leg while he lifted the other leg and draped it over one broad shoulder. She watched him stare at the most private part of her that was hypersensitive with arousal, and then he looked up at her taut, incredulous face.
Then he heaved a sigh as heartfelt as if he was coming home. He leaned into her and gently, avidly took her clitoris in his mouth, and there was no playing the fiction that this was his first time for that, because he knew just what the fuck he was doing, and he did it superlatively.
“I’m dying here,” she groaned. He made a soothing sound at the back of his throat while he licked, nibbled and suckled. Raw jolts of pleasure rocked through her, and if she hadn’t been gripping the edge of the kitchen sink or clutching his hair, she would have fallen.
His fingers probed gently at the slick entrance to her vagina while his mouth worked her. She pushed her hips against him, sobbing for breath. She was dying, he was killing her, killing her. The sensations were too intense, too sharp. She had been partnerless for too long. She had grown too accustomed to bringing her own release. He was never going to get her to come.
But then he did. The climax seared through her nerve endings and tore a sound of delirious pleasure from her.
He pulled away slowly and leaned his forehead against the curve of her pubic bone, breathing as though he was at a full-out run. Unclenching her fist from his hair, she stroked the side of his face while he gripped her hips, calloused fingers rubbing along her skin.
Natural Evil Page 8
