Unleashing the Storm

by Sydney Croft

  An instant, terrifying band of pressure tightened around her chest. He’s probably just watching out for bad guys. She repeated the words in her head as she pushed to her hands and knees. Her thighs and arms felt watery, barely able to carry her weight.

  “Tom?” She swept aside the door flap and crawled outside. Panic made her gut clench. “Tommy?” Oh, God, where was he? She came to her feet, swayed like a baby taking its first steps. “Tommy!”

  Then he was there, from out of nowhere, and she was in his arms. “I’m here, Kira. I’m here.”

  She wrapped herself around him, tried to hide her tremors. “I wasn’t worried,” she said, knowing he didn’t believe her, but wanting to convince herself. She felt like such an idiot. A clingy, demanding idiot.

  She hated being so dependent on anyone, especially when her life was at stake and she had no control over whether she lived or died.

  But Tom had controlled things pretty well. He’d put his life on the line to save hers, and he’d done it without flinching. The knowledge stripped her to the bone, flayed her emotions wide open, so everything else he’d done to infuriate her didn’t matter. She’d always been more a creature of emotion than logic, and his saving her life had opened her up to feelings she needed to tamp down.

  She could fall for this man.

  His hand caressed her back in slow, soothing circles as he nuzzled her hair, pressing tender kisses against her scalp. He was so funny that way, how he could be gentle and attentive, and then at other times freeze her out with indifference.

  “I know you weren’t.” He tightened his arms around her, and she melted against him. “Do you need me again?”

  She nodded, despite the fact that they’d mated just two hours ago. He swept her up, crouched low, and carried her into the tent.

  He laid her carefully on the floor and unbuttoned his pants as she stripped off hers. They’d slept in their clothes; Tom had told her to stay as fully clothed as possible at all times, in the event that they had to move out quickly.

  Kneeling between her legs, he mounted her.

  “Wait,” she said, even as he slid home. “Could we…maybe…?”

  “Take it slow?”

  “Mix it up.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her, and her cheeks burned. She shouldn’t have asked. Sometimes he was willing to add foreplay, but afterward he was always much more distant than after the times when he took her quickly just to give her what she needed to survive.

  “You mean, like, handcuffs?”

  A pleasant flush broke out over her body at the memory of what he’d done with the cuffs the night he’d tackled her in the field. But she’d also had too close a call with death last night to want to be helpless in any way.

  “No…never mind. Forget I asked.”

  Still sheathed inside her, he reached for his bag. He rummaged through it, and when he nodded to himself, she knew she was in trouble. “Perfect.”

  He pulled the riding crop from his bag, and she gasped. “I can’t believe you kept that.”

  “You never know when one could come in handy.”

  Excitement shot through her, because for all the sex she’d had in her life, most of it had been about feeding her body. Never her mind. She’d never taken the time to play.

  Tom eased out of her and scooted back, still on his knees. When she tried to sit up, he pushed the tip of the crop against her sternum and forced her to lie back.

  “Stay.”

  Breathless with anticipation, she did as he’d ordered, and then kept an eye on his face as he trailed the leather flap down her abdomen. He hesitated when he reached her mound, but when she cut her gaze away to watch what he was doing, he slipped it lower, between her dewy folds.

  He began a leisurely exploration with the leather flap, coaxing a moan from her.

  “You like that, Kira?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Has anyone ever used a whip on you this way?”

  She looked up; his gaze slammed into hers, and somehow, she knew her answer was more important to him than he’d ever let on. “Never.”

  She caught the subtle softening in his eyes before he looked back down to what he was doing with the crop. “Good. That’s good.”

  The rub of the soft leather grew firmer, faster, and blood began to roar in her ears. Her clit throbbed, but each pass he made through her slit barely skimmed the aching nub. When he withdrew the thing, she whimpered—until he moved closer, turned the crop around, and used the hard, leather-wrapped handle to stroke her instead.

  “Spread your legs wider,” he commanded, one palm putting pressure against her inner thigh until she let her knees fall open. A low sound of approval came from him, and he licked his lips as he moved even closer. She thought he would put his mouth where the crop was, but instead, he drew the handle down to her entrance. Her breath jammed in her throat. Would he—

  “You’re soaked,” he murmured. “Dripping.”

  Oh, God, she knew that, could feel moisture flooding her sex, right there where he was rotating the tip of the crop, caressing the sensitive circle of nerves at her core. Pleasure streaked through her, and it nearly peaked when he plunged the handle inside her.

  “Tom!”

  “Do you want me to stop?” Tom began an easy, sensual rhythm, in, out, twist. “You’ve fucked my cock, my hand, my mouth, now this…do you think you can come?”

  The thrill of what he was doing was too much to allow for an answer. Instead, she ground her hips to meet his thrusts, mindless at the feel of the slick friction, the erotic pleasure that sliced through her clit and made her clamp down on the tool she’d always thought of, and despised, as a means of delivering pain.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating on the sound of Tom’s breathing, rapid, ragged, concentrating on the exquisite sensation of being penetrated with a weapon wielded by a man who knew the best way to use it.

  “Let go, baby,” he whispered. “Let me see you come.”

  As though she’d needed his permission, her nerve endings exploded, and her orgasm surged through her like she’d been set aflame. Tom did something—angled the handle just right—and before the first climax had waned, another caught her by surprise, tackled her and didn’t let her go.

  He withdrew the crop, and while she still pulsed, he entered her with his rock-hard cock. The delicious stretch of her tissue had her coming yet again, and on his third stroke he released inside her with a groan.

  Worn out, sated and feeling like a pampered cat, she prepared for him to pull out immediately, as always. But this time he lay on top of her until they stopped panting, and then he rolled to his side and took her with him, his cock twitching inside her.

  He watched her, his eyes bloodshot, the dark hollows beneath emphasizing his fatigue.

  “You’re exhausted.” Letting her gaze linger on the angular planes of his face, she ran her fingers through his hair, pushed it away from his forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

  “This is nothing. I’ve been through worse.”

  “You’ve been forced to have sex every three hours instead of four?”

  A smile quirked his mouth and she suddenly wanted very much to kiss him. Impossible, she knew. Something told her that doing so would send him into icy-distant mode.

  “I never thought I’d believe there was such a thing as too much sex. I’m sore as hell.” His smile faded, and then he did withdraw from her body, leaving her feeling empty. As he sat up next to her, he shook his head. “How do you deal with it?”

  She reached for her underwear and pants. “It’s not horrible as long as I’ve got everything planned out and mates arranged.”

  Outside, birds chirped, probably seeking their own mates, some for life. Regret and sadness brushed her heart. A life mate and family was something Kira desperately desired but could never have.

  She pulled on her clothes as Tom buttoned up, and then she drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them.

  “It’s when thing
s go screwy that it gets bad.”

  “Bad how?”

  Shifting to avoid the sharp edge of a rock beneath her, she nibbled on her bottom lip, unsure how much she should tell him. He hadn’t judged her so far, had been nothing but accepting of everything he’d seen. What would he think when he knew how bad things had been for her? Then again, it didn’t really matter. Once they arrived at his agency, she might not see him again. He’d certainly made it clear that he wouldn’t be the one servicing her.

  “It’s like a drug addiction. If prior arrangements aren’t made, then the moment I get sex, I start thinking about how I’m going to get it again. I do things…I mean, I’ve had to proposition strange guys in bars.”

  Unable to bear seeing a look of disgust on his face, she averted her gaze, concentrated on the pine needle one of them had tracked inside. “Do you have any idea how desperate I have to be to do that? To walk up to some stranger and ask if he wants to screw me in the alley?” She shuddered. “At the time, it doesn’t matter who they are or what I have to do. That’s how this affects me. I just need it. Afterward, I feel dirty and sick.”

  “You shouldn’t. It’s not your fault.”

  She snorted. So easy for a man to say. “Tell that to the towns of Great Falls and Albany and Jasper.”

  “Is one of those where you were jailed?”

  “You tell me. You seem to know my criminal record better than I do.”

  “I know your official record. I’m guessing the time you were raped in the jail cell was strictly off the books.”

  Nausea bubbled up in her throat. “I wasn’t raped.”

  “Bullshit. You needed sex, and I’ll bet men lined up to take advantage of that.”

  The memory rattled around inside her skull, the same sound as cell bars being shaken. She wanted to curl up in a ball at the thought of how she’d been arrested for disturbing the peace in a bar where she’d gone to find someone to service her. The interested man’s girlfriend had caught them and all hell had broken loose. As a newcomer in the one-stoplight town, Kira had been the only one to go to jail, and she’d nearly gone insane in the cell.

  She’d thrown herself against the bars, begged one of the officers for sex, had degraded herself like never before or since.

  “They lined up—” dear God, they’d watched as each man took his turn “—but you know what it’s like to be around me when it’s time. They couldn’t help it. And I begged.”

  His curses blistered her ears. “Dammit, Kira, you needed one man. The rest of the bastards had no business going near you. How many were there?”

  “Four,” she whispered, “but one only watched.”

  Ice spread through her insides. She’d pleaded for sex while they laughed, called her a slut, whore—and worse. Eventually, her pheromones wore them down, and the one who smelled like cigarettes and hot dogs shoved her face into the wall, lifted her skirt and entered her. Afterward, she’d slid down the wall and sat on her heels as she sobbed.

  The sound of the door squeaking open a few moments later had filled her with dread. Then came footsteps, the clink of a belt buckle, the warm hand of the second officer as he yanked her off the floor. She hadn’t needed him, had pleaded with him to come back in four hours, but he’d hit her so hard her vision had blurred for an hour. The third man followed, and they’d taken their turns all night. By then, she hadn’t cared because she didn’t know how long she’d be locked up, and she had to take every opportunity she could.

  “They let me go in the morning, early. Probably didn’t want the next shift to find out what happened. When I got home, my house had been vandalized. The girlfriend from the bar, I’m sure.” She sighed. “I packed a bag that morning and hitched a ride to Idaho with a trucker who was more than happy to take sex as payment.”

  “Where did this happen?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Oh, yes, it does,” he pressed, and the tone of his voice, low, edged and jagged like the knife strapped to his thigh, made her shiver.

  “I just want to forget, Tom. Please. I know that sounds pathetic—”

  “Fuck that,” Tom muttered. “You’re so strong, Kira. What you went through would have broken most people.”

  “Strong?” She shook her head. “There were times when I tried to go without sex, just to let myself die. But I was weak. When the sickness and pain took over, I gave in. I keep telling myself that if I die, no one will listen to the animals. They won’t have a voice. I’m not sure if I’m being weak or selfish or both.”

  “I’d say neither.” Tom was silent for a long moment, and then he reached for what he called his rucksack. “Have you always talked to animals?”

  Oh, she could have kissed him for diverting the conversation, but she knew the subject wasn’t forgotten. Not for him. She wasn’t stupid enough to think he’d seek justice for some chick who was nothing but a job to him, but she got the impression that Tom Knight’s code of honor wouldn’t allow him to sit back and ignore bad guys with badges.

  “Since birth. My parents said the day they brought me home from the hospital, the pets gathered round and wouldn’t let me out of their sight.”

  “Did they think it was weird?” He handed her a granola bar, different from the others they’d been eating, and she checked the ingredients for animal products before she tore open the wrapper.

  “At first they thought God used animals to watch over me.”

  “At first?”

  She nodded. “They thought it was sweet how I ‘made up stories’ about the animals’ thoughts and stuff. Then, when the things I told them turned into things I shouldn’t know, they suddenly didn’t think God had anything to do with it anymore.”

  “So what, they thought you were possessed?”

  “Sort of.” She bit off a tiny corner of her granola bar and chewed slowly before answering. “I grew up in the Bible Belt, where people think psychics get their messages from the devil. My parents believe that I speak with Satan through evil animals. I guess way back in my family tree, one of my great-grandparents was burned as a witch for talking to animals, so of course I was a bad seed.”

  “Must have been fun around your house.”

  She laughed, because yeah, good times. Her parents had gotten rid of all the pets by the time she was eleven, and her dad shot any stray that came near.

  “It was hell. Things really got bad when a neighbor’s dog escaped his chain, and when I found him, he gave me an image of a dead body in a ditch. I was fifteen, so I called the police. My parents threatened to kick me out of the house if I told the cops how I knew about the body, but I couldn’t lie. The whole town thought I was nuts.”

  “Did your parents kick you out?”

  “Yeah. I had to go live with a friend. And then things got really bad.”

  “Worse than your parents believing you rub elbows with Satan and the whole town thinking you’re one bullet short of a magazine?”

  “Your tact astounds me.” His lips curved into a pleased smile, and she rolled her eyes. “Yes, worse than that. I was sixteen. And the heat started. I didn’t understand it, just knew I needed sex. So basically, after that, I was rubbing elbows with the devil, crazy, the town slut.”

  “What happened?”

  “My friend’s family kicked me out of their house, and my parents wouldn’t take me in. So I ran away, changed my name and never looked back.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true. In a fit of loneliness, she’d contacted her only sibling, Peter, a couple of years ago, but he’d told her that Charity Belle was dead to him and to never call again. “In Memphis, a lady who trained drug-and bomb-sniffing dogs took pity on me. Marcia. She was an animal whisperer too.”

  Kira picked at her granola bar while Tom started on his second protein bar. She had no idea how many of the things he had in his bag, but she’d give him the merit badge for preparedness, for sure.

  “She’s the person who taught you how to train police dogs?”

  “Yes. I took over her
business when she died in a car accident.”

  Marcia had also introduced her to the radical animal-rights and anti-government groups she’d joined. Aside from the yearly mating issues, her life had gone well until her first arrest during an anti-fur protest. After that, strange things happened whenever she was near, things she’d had no part in even though she’d been blamed. Slaughterhouses had gone up in flames. Whaling boats sank. Research labs had been vandalized.

  Only since Tom had come into her life had things started to make sense.

  Someone had been trying to flush her out. Maybe that enemy agency Derek had come from.

  “Will your agency be able to do something about all my arrest warrants?”

  He barked out a laugh. “Warrants? Kira, no official agency in the world will ever touch you again. And if you want those cops who hurt you to pay, that can be arranged too.”

  “I told you, I just want to forget it,” she said, and tried to make her voice more upbeat, because she definitely didn’t want him to know how much the experience still haunted her, how often she had nightmares about being locked up.

  “Yeah, I get that.”

  She’d just bet he did. He’d probably seen things during his career that would have her wanting to never sleep again for fear of the dreams.

  “When we get to your agency, can I arrange for my farmhands to be found? I can’t stand the thought of them…” She swallowed sickly, unable to say it.

  “They probably already sent a cleanup crew.”

  Right, because they’d need to get rid of the other bodies. The bad guys. “How long have you worked for them?”

  “It feels like forever.” He arranged the mysterious stuff in his bag and placed his ammo on top.

  “And what, exactly, do you do there?”

  “Mostly, I bring in special people like you.”

  “Mostly?”

  He jammed the bag into a corner and moved toward the front of the tent. “Q and A is over. I need to patrol. See if you can get some sleep.”

  When he started out, she grabbed his arm. “Be careful.” He nodded, and she added softly, “And Tommy? I want you to know I believe you.”