by Angela White
The man gasped for air, sliding down.
Marc felt a blow coming and threw up a hand to deflect Greg’s temple shot.
It glanced off, unbalancing them both.
Marc sprawled against the cage, an open target for Neil’s hit. Blood flew again.
Fists rained down, the grunts and groans echoing across an unhappy crowd. No one like seeing the wolfman treated this way.
They didn’t understand, but Adrian was confident in his plan. Marc wouldn’t take much more before he got mean. Once that happened, another part of the dream would be safe. Marc was a strong hand for any leader to have, one that would be followed if his strength were known. After this, it would be.
Marc felt that dangerous side of him fighting to come out and tried to prevent it. He didn’t want to hurt–
Thud!
Greg’s blow rocked Marc’s head against the cage. Blood splattered.
Kick!
Neil’s spin sent pain flaring into Marc’s arm as he blocked it. If they didn’t back off, he wouldn’t be able to–
Wham!
Seth delivered the line-crossing hit with a brutal chest shot.
Marc struggled to find air, fists clenching… But he’d been pushed too hard. Ice flooded his veins, and his heart thumped in that familiar, nauseating rhythm of death.
The inner Marine stepped forward. May I?
Marc grunted at the next blow, no longer bothering to block. Yes. Give him what he wants and then some.
One of Marc’s long-hidden demons snapped a mental salute and took full control.
“You have to stop it now!” Angela whispered frantically. “He’ll kill them!”
Adrian wasn’t about to interfere. “He still has three minutes.”
Marc didn’t need them.
They watched him lunge forward and deliver a nasty hit to Seth’s windpipe. As the cop fell, face reddening, going darker from lack of air, Marc swung again.
Thud!
Neil slid to his knees at the forehead blow, not knocked out, but on the edge of it. His vision warbled sickeningly as he fought to stay alert.
Greg tripped over Kenn’s body as Marc turned toward him, hoping to avoid it, but Marc was there to help him with an uppercut swung from the hip.
Greg joined the others–groaning, trying to recover, and clearly out of the match.
Three hits, three men down.
Marc stalked toward the cage door.
Except for breathing, silence echoed eerily across the crowd.
Behind Marc, Seth’s gasps came in choked whispers, but at least he was getting air. He didn’t care that his eyes were streaming tears or that his throat felt like it had been caught in a pepper-grinder. It was just good to breathe at all.
John waited until Marc was clear of the cage before hurrying inside with Anne on his heels.
The crowd wasn’t sure how to react as Marc moved toward Adrian with bloody fist and furious eyes. The Eagles were, though. Those closest rushed toward the two men.
Marc stopped with plenty of distance between them. “Are you satisfied now?”
“Yes.” Adrian’s tone was neutral. “Are you?”
“Not even close.”
“Good.” Adrian had expected it. “You’ll oversee the rest of the cage matches. Who’s next?”
Angela didn’t think it would work. That was her Brady, and his need to see Adrian bleeding was strong.
“Fine,” Marc agreed, turning back toward the cage. “But you’ll have to send in tomorrow’s men, too. The few left on my team won’t be enough to cool me down.”
“Agreed. Pass. Who’s next?”
Tension broken, the crowd began to cheer, and the Eagles joined them–those who weren’t busy helping their fallen men or comforting suddenly terrified rookie females.
Now, Marc’s team absolutely dragged their feet, shooting each other worried glances. There were four of them left and no one was surprised when they all went together. Marc’s reputation had just grown.
5
Angela waited until the tests were finished and the camp had gone. Only a few of the Eagles were left, the training tent now back up around them. Marc was filling out paperwork, collecting old patches, setting up the next duty shifts, and all the while, his eyes flamed. He’d won the remaining matches. It made for slightly upset teammates who could now miss the next level with even one mistake during tomorrow night’s shooting test, but it also made for a calm camp that was secure in their defenders. Jax had been the only one to even get a hit on Marc, and Angela frowned at the injuries. She wasn’t allowed to heal him, but she wanted to.
Angela saw the last Eagle duck out of the tent and moved toward Marc, feeling his tension, his anger and triumph. Both were on his mind, but the need to kill hadn’t been satisfied.
“I’m fine.”
His coldness stopped her from touching him, the fear she still held of men rearing up. It would be nothing for Marc to hurt her, she knew that now. All the shots she’d ever gotten in on him were nothing compared to a single blow from his fist.
“I would never do that.”
Angela relaxed her stiff body language in guilty surprise. He was so much more observant this way. Not that he’d slacked off before, but now, without even looking at her, he knew she was scared.
“It takes a little time to cool down,” Marc tried to explain, still fighting the occasional shudder of rage.
Angela wanted to comfort, but seeing him tonight had sent her into places she’d hoped not to visit again.
“Angie?”
It was odd, to be so full of courage one minute and lacking a spine the next. She found her tongue. “I’ll be in the...our tent.”
Angela forgot the golden rule, spinning for the flap.
Instinct triggered by the movement, Marc lunged and Angela found herself in his big arms before she could suck in the air to shout with.
Marc held her tightly against him, scenting her. He’d never wanted anything more.
The fear in her face and those beautiful eyes brought him back, and Marc slowly lowered her feet to the ground. He gently adjusted her sweater over her rigid shoulder. “Give me a few.”
Angela was having a battle of her own. She could fight, shoot, think, run, but when it came to men... “I’ll wait with you.”
Marc wasn’t back in control yet and shook his head. “We’ll end up doing a repeat of Nebraska, baby cakes.”
Those flaming eyes dropped to her chest. “Or more.”
Angela swallowed. Was she ready for it?
“No.”
Marc’s tone forbade a moment like that out of sympathy or duty, and she understood. That wouldn’t be enough for her, either, if the situation were reversed.
Marc’s hot eyes never left her face. What he wouldn’t give to be allowed to take her!
Catching the thought, Angela trembled, but not all from fear. If she knew that their moment in Nebraska was all that they would repeat, she wasn’t against it. The revelation was enough to make her smile.
Marc stared at the mouth he craved, dreamed about. Some night he would kiss those lips as he slid into her warm, willing body.
Marc shuddered. “You. Go. Now.”
Angela chuckled at the wording, but Marc wasn’t kidding. “Angie.”
She looked up, face a mix of courage and terror. “Some fears should be conquered head-on.”
Marc hadn’t expected that, but realized he should have. Hadn’t she handled every challenge that way? Marc’s eyes went over her lips again, wanting to kiss her, to go on and give her what she was asking for. “It’s too soon.”
He watched his hand go out to touch her anyway. She kept that long hair up now, usually in a thick ponytail, and she had no idea how sexy she looked with it that way. It exposed a nape that he longed to stroke, to taste.
Desire, thick and welcome, flooded Angela as he traced her cheek and slid his warm hand along her jaw.
Angela tried to relax. “Why not tell me what you ha
d in mind, and I’ll make the choice?”
Lust–to feel her in the throes of a pleasure he’d delivered–swept through Marc. “Better to show you.”
“Clothes?” she asked nervously.
Marc tightened his control at the images that sent flipping through his mind. “On.”
Scared, Angela started to shake her head, and Marc’s heart protested. He leaned in and kissed her.
Angela was immediately caught in flashes of the past, of their stolen moments together. Things hadn’t begun crossing the line until she was older, but this heat, this magic between them, had always been there.
Heavy with need, Marc deepened the kiss, and felt her arms go around his neck. His body responded instantly, thrusting against her.
Angela was helpless to keep from arching back.
Marc paused for an instant. He hadn’t thought she was ready for more, but that one little reaction said differently. The Marine inside wouldn’t let him stop after that realization.
Marc kissed her again, softer, but more intently this time as he searched for her pleasure triggers. Some men rushed through these moments for that quick, fleeting satisfaction, but not Marc. He enjoyed a woman–all of her–and learning what she liked always increased his own satisfaction. Women’s libbers might have called it pride, or an ego-fix, but Marc was determined that what his woman got out of it would always be good enough to keep her coming back.
“Okay.” Marc’s timbre lowered into that deep rumble that stunned the camp’s women when he used it against them. “I want to do what we did the first night we snuck out to the clubhouse.”
Angela was a bit dazed by how much desire he was pulling with only a few words and a kiss. Was it intentional?
“Yes.” Marc stared at her in blatant want. “Lean against the wall, close your eyes.”
Liquid heat and nervous tension flooded Angela as Marc eased her back without waiting for a response.
“Let me make you feel good, baby.”
Angela couldn’t fight that desire-laden request. It said these chills running along her skin would become shudders of pleasure if she let him do what he wanted.
She leaned against the tent wall, trapped between it and him. She slammed her lids shut. He won’t hurt me.
Marc slipped out of his coat, understanding she was on the edge of calling it off.
Angela didn’t want to be tense, but it wasn’t something she could help. At moments like this, she’d always been scared.
Marc was in his own mind and missed the reluctant surrender for the feel of rubbing against her. He knew she wasn’t relaxed, but he wasn’t sure if he could stop without at least touching her.
Marc slid a finger between her legs.
Angela stiffened as lust, fiery and strong, shot through her stomach. “Mmm!”
Marc throbbed. “Yeah, me too,” he agreed, pushing slightly.
Angela forgot to be tense as desire reminded her that it had been months since she’d done this for herself–long before the final slaver battle.
Starting to sweat, Marc carefully repeated the exact movement, making her hips arch.
Angela shivered as he stroked her through the jeans, breasts tingling, scalding heat flowing.
Marc rubbed against her heat, sliding into that hazy place where satisfaction was what mattered. He felt her breathing roughen, hips shifting restlessly. He slid his lips along her jaw, moving closer to rock gently against her thigh. As he did, he thrust inward again with his finger, harder than before.
“Oooo…”
Need, thick and demanding, shoved into Marc’s mind. Take her!
Marc locked down on his lust, free hand coming up to slide along her hip. He gently lifted the edge of her shirt and stroked his thumb across that satin skin as he slowly withdrew his finger.
Angela arched, lost.
Marc let his hand settle over her breast as he thrust forward and they both groaned.
He leaned back to look at her. “I want to touch.”
Angela knew what that meant, but with him thrusting his finger against her like that, it was hard to stand, let alone think.
When she didn’t answer, Marc drew in a breath and lightly rubbed her nipple as he tugged her zipper down.
Beautiful bare skin flashed in the lantern light, and Marc felt a bit of his control snap off. He wanted to be naked, rutting and spewing inside that body.
“Wait. We’re in the training tent. What if someone–”
Marc’s answer was to drop his mouth back to hers and send his hand to her other breast, rubbing that rocky tip in hard circles.
“Mmmm…”
Her moan against his lips was enough to make Marc have to count to ten in his mind. His hands didn’t pause, though. He would have a little of what he’d been denying himself.
Angela shivered at the cool air as the buttons on her shirt began to pop open.
Marc sensed the withdraw coming. To counter it, he sent both hands to her nipples and pinched lightly as he moved between her legs. Hard enough to hammer nails, he thrust forward as she arched, giving them both an incredible spark of lust.
In the clubhouse that night, he’d done much the same, though, the inside of his jeans had been coated more than once by the time they were finished. This time, Marc put his hand inside her pants and let himself touch that slick pussy.
Angela cried out, grip on him tightening.
Marc throbbed at the feel of her hands in his hair, lips moving against his neck in hot lust. He dipped his head and brought his finger up, tasting her.
Sweet! Marc shuddered. His hand went back to her body, swirling his finger over that sticky nub and Angela stiffened, muscles clamping down.
“That’s so good!” she groaned against his cheek, hands tangled in the silken hair she’d dreamed of for so long. When he used his knee to nudge her legs open further, she trembled, no longer caring about who might see them.
Marc’s rough breathing sent chills over her as he thrust, pinched, and continued to use that amazing timbre on her. “Next time, I want to kiss you…here.”
He squeezed as he tugged and Angela exploded, nails ripping into his shoulder.
“Oh, Brady!”
Marc ripped his jeans open and positioned them, eager to steal a few seconds for himself. He thrust against her slick heat, drawing another arch and moan when he hit that pulsing nub. She was so wet!
One tilt and thrust, buddy-boy, the Marine inside reminded him ruthlessly. A shift into heaven.
But only once, his heart protested. She’ll never let us get this close again.
She wasn’t a camp whore. He couldn’t make the mistake of treating her like one. And that wasn’t nearly enough for Marc, anyway. He reluctantly stepped back. Need time alone–now!
Angela’s hands slowly left his shoulders, surprising him when they kept going down to his tense forearms.
“Do it while I’m here to watch.”
Marc forgot how to breathe. If he didn’t get a release right now, she was in danger or his vow of fidelity was. A man could only take so much.
The thought of Marc using a camp whore to keep from scaring her or being a little rough had Angela’s womanly instincts protesting. She would rather he threw her down and had his way than to send him into someone else’s arms, for any length of time.
“Come on.”
Damn. He’d been counting on her leaving now. Didn’t she understand that he was–
Angela took his wrist and moved it to where it was needed, meaning to let go.
Marc watched his big paw wrap around himself as if he was alone, trapping her hand. Flames shot into his groin.
Angela observed in fascination as Marc began to stroke, seeing how his glowing blue eyes traveled over her lips, her hair, the skin he could see. Still pulsing, she slowly opened her shirt with her free hand.
It was what she’d done to end their first night together at the clubhouse, and Marc shattered. He yanked her against him, one big hand going to the small of
her back to keep her in place, the other jerking furiously between them until he was grunting in thick satisfaction with every stroke.
Angela felt his pleasure. His lust was fierce, shooting through her in dizzying waves, and she knew instinctively not to let him take her to the ground, or make any move to escape. She helped things along instead. She shifted the fingers under his.
The iron bar in their grip swelled, jumping eagerly at her attention.
“Again,” Marc begged against her mouth, breathing coming in short bursts.
Angela squeezed as he jerked and Marc groaned hoarsely, “Yeah, baby!”
Angela repeated the movement, delighting in the power she held over his body. She wanted to play a bit, but the witch sent a quick warning. “If you stop, he won’t.”
Able to feel how much he needed the release, Angela pressed a slow kiss to Marc’s sweaty jaw and shifted her fingers again. “Love you, Brady.”
“Uh! I...ggrrrrr!”
His grip tightened and he shoved forward, sliding between her damp thighs. When his hand moved, going to her hip, Angela spread her legs. If this was what he needed... She braced.
Marc grabbed her thighs, forcing them closed as he exploded.
Angela held him as he shuddered, absorbing the energy. Even at the most out-of-control moment for a man, Marc had kept her safe, but more than that, she’d been braced to take whatever he needed. She hadn’t frozen or even flinched. Though there hadn’t been a lot of time, she thought with a small smile. It broke another barrier around her heart. She was healing–sexually–and she had Marc to thank for it.
Breathing mostly back to normal, Angela leaned her head against the canvas, grinning. “When can we do this again?”
Winded and amazed that she wasn’t filled with his seed, Marc let go of her legs and slid to his knees. “Two...minutes. Need fluids.”
Angela giggled. Being his woman was wonderful.
Outside, most of those who saw the entwined shadows went on about their business or sought comfort where they could find it, but not all of them.
Adrian moved through the darkness toward the firing range instead of the shadows where relief lurked. Jack Daniels and jealousy would be his companions tonight.
