“The door was open.” He stood much as he had upon finding her half naked in the bathroom doorway. “I called your name.” Grinning at the dogs standing next to him, he added, “The dogs must have decided I’m legit. They licked my hand and everything.” His wicked grin trailed off when he saw the fire in her eyes.
Disgust radiated from her scowl. “I didn’t invite you. Why do you keep showing up unannounced anyway?” The scowl grew as he stepped closer.
“I brought you something.” He reached for her hand. She tugged at the contact. “Easy, I won’t bite.” Laying a small leather strip in her hand, he smiled. “It’s a talisman to ward off evil.”
Meagan’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, I’ve seen one before. Why are you giving me this?”
Dorran shoved his hands into the front pockets of his worn jeans. There was that cocky grin she had come to love so much. It came naturally as breathing. Tonight though, the grin showed signs of wear. Something was wrong, she decided.
“Because the boogie man is alive and well in Cheniere Station, I want you to be safe, Meagan Christiana. I can’t always be around.”
The grin lightened some of the constriction in her chest. She jingled the bright silver medallion hanging from the leather. “Well…thank you.” Still, she was exhausted. “I appreciate this but…” Holding up her index finger, she warned, “Don’t even think of staying. I’ve got a lot to do tonight.” Meagan’s neck tightened with the tension of a headache. Reaching for the pain, she shook off his questioning look of concern. “It’s nothing. Just been a pisser of a day. That’s all,” she muttered.
There was no telling him he was the reason she couldn’t relax anymore. Dorran wouldn’t understand anyway. Skip traces and bond jumpers were his bag, right? After all, three days had passed without a word from him. She had become nothing more than collateral damage or the enticing blood supply, take your pick. “I’ll see you later okay. Thanks for the talisman.” Turning she planted one foot in front of the other until she had the tank top on and was sliding through the back door to the deck. Certain she had dismissed him, she swiped at the moisture trickling down her check.
Normally she didn’t cry. Something to do with guarding her feelings she supposed. Stupid female traits. “You ought to know better by now,” she mumbled. The deck floor shifted behind her. Her yelp came out automatically as Meagan spun around grabbing a broom for defense.
“You,” she managed. Anger mixed with embarrassment shifted through her system like a lightning bolt before something akin to relief surfaced.
Meagan shrunk back as Dorran’s strong hands took the talisman from her hand and hung it around her neck. She felt the heat of him radiate through her cold system. When had she become so responsive to a simple touch? “It’s not…” she growled just as his mouth fit over hers in a possession straight out of the player’s handbook.
Shoving at his iron grip proved useless. Meagan moaned, her mouth shifting under the pressure of his demand. Taking charge, Dorran slid his tongue past her lips. The vague knowledge she should be upset dissipated in the abrasive, smoky haze of his tongue mating with hers. The connection surged through her pent-up system like water through a flood gate. Despite the little voice in her head warning of impending doom, she returned his persistence with some of her own. “This is wrong,” she whispered as she came up for air.
Dorran’s fingers clamped either side of her face in a vice. He trailed gentler lips across her cheek and nipped her ear with another muffled growl. Easing back, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Yeah, I know.” His eyes were clear, the pupils large. His breathing stuttered as he rubbed his hands up and down her arms.
“Then why?” Meagan shot back. She had never been one to fool around, so the idea of getting horizontal with this hybrid was still a taboo venture in her mind even if it had been eons since she had sex and yes as her small voice like to remind her, her body was now screaming for release.
“If it were simply sex, Meagan, I’d have seduced you by now, and you’d be left with a hot memory of being under me, but, damn it, it’s more than a roll in the sack.” He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent and groaned. “It’s a hell of a lot more.” Drawing a ragged breath, he faced her searching for her comprehension.
He’d been in her thoughts again. Fuck! Meagan watched his eyes darken while searching her face before his long talented fingers trailed the length of her nape sending a shiver down her spine. The breath he released held frustrated need. “You see, I thought I got how this went – how the plan to keep things simple put me on one side of the fence and you on the other.” He stared at her with something akin to physical pain mixed with desire. A desire so deep, it stole her breath.
“Instead, it’s got my insides torqued.”
Meagan’s first instinct was to retreat. She had heard it all before, hadn’t she? Plus, she was good at retreating. Didn’t she do that when it came to people and one on one conflict? The plea came out automatically. “Please don’t. I know what you’re about to say.”
“Do you now?” It was his mouth on hers that stopped her. Soft and gentle, the opposite of the first kiss, Dorran surprised her with the tenderness in the connection.
A wisp of cooling air signaled his lips leaving. Meagan opened her eyes.
Tracing the tear trailing down her cheek, Dorran’s touch ignited fingers of fire along her lips, her skin, her soul, sending the need radiating through her. Any more words were useless. “It’s late, you need to go,” she said softly.
“No, not tonight.” He stayed her hand when she reached out to put pressure behind her words. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
She’d heard it all before. Why would Dorran be any different? “What? No love ‘em and leave ‘em?” Irritation vibrated from her fingertips. The look of contrition in his eyes stalled her. “I’m sorry. I suppose I’m projecting.” She watched his eyes grow dark once more. The sizzle building between them sparked. The air fairly crackled with the tension.
Blinking, Meagan shook her head. “Don’t you see? If I let you stay, one thing will lead to another.” She shoved from his hold. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to face what happens tomorrow when you go.” Meagan swiped haplessly at the tears.
The soft, almost inaudible huff of breath pushed at Meagan’s resolve. Dorran moved closer. “Let me hold you.” His face, hard and chiseled, shown in the meager light of a waning moon. “I have no reason to be here other than I want to make you feel better. You’re alone, and I’m alone, and we’re both in need of comfort. Tomorrow is a few hours away. Let’s don’t plan the day’s events before the sun rises. All right?” He eased in closer, reaching for her arms and pulling her into his chest.
She could feel his heart beating the erratic beat of a hybrid, a being-more-dead-than-alive thing. She could hear his blood thumping against her cheek. Meagan closed her eyes. Maybe it was time to let go. Maybe her heart couldn’t break anymore. After all, her parents dying had done a pretty good job of that already.
“I don’t have a hidden agenda, Meagan. All I want is a little of your human touch tonight. I promise, no sex, no moves, just us, together.”
Her heart stilled in her chest. Dorran’s words resounded in her head. The hybrid hurt. She could sense the need. He needed something more than sex – he needed a friend, a confidant, someone to listen. Though the haze of disappointment rippled through her system, she latched onto the fact he wanted to spend time with her. Didn’t she crave the touch of someone who understood - someone who got the weirdness that was her world? He craved her nearness like a wolf seeks warmth from the cold. She could provide sanctuary. Meagan leaned back, taking his hand in hers. She led him inside and shut the door against the chill of the night.
***
Dorran watched as Meagan turned back the bed. The heart of this woman-child was fragile and innocent. Conviction proved paramount in her life, and she cared deeply for those in need. He had to be careful not to lead her on. She may follow him b
lindly, the whole time telling herself she was protected from his kind. Because there was truth in those facts now that she wore the talisman he’d given her. His kind was unpredictable, irrational, unstable, and yes, downright cruel when necessary. Dorran silently vowed to never allow Meagan to see his true identity.
She came to him, gathering his hand in hers. The slender digits lying coolly clasped in his trembled slightly - the fear of the unknown. Meagan worried he was going to use her and toss her away. Had others done the same? Probably some teenage twit with a hard-on who saw her as another notch on his belt. The thought made him want to wrap her in his arms and whisper gently to her. The thought of what the Sultan had done to her made his blood boil again and the gentleness dissipated like fumes. Despite the anger the image stirred, he vowed not to push her past her own desires. He would be patient and let her come to him. Tonight, he intended to spend time getting to know the woman-child inside the innocent, unworldly Meagan Christiana.
Her ebony hair shown in the light coming through the windows. He watched as she smoothed the covers back, her movements meticulous and ceremonial. By the gods, he wanted her. His need was a living breathing craving inside him. How would he manage a night lying beside this woman and not take her for his own? Forcing all that into the nether reaches of his soul, he stepped to her. “Meagan. I promise I won’t hurt you. You’re safe with me.”
She blinked. Nodding mechanically, the corners of her mouth curved upward slightly. “All right.” A slight tremble in her finger tips made her look past him. “You need a shower.” Shoving her other hand through her hair before waving a finger toward the bath, she inclined her head. Her voice cracked over the words, “Get a shower and get ready for bed.”
He leaned back, looking closely at her. Her face showed the signs of strain. She struggled with herself. He could see that much. Was tonight a mistake? Time would tell. Releasing her, Dorran turned for the bathroom.
***
Dorran stood quietly under the shower spray, letting the water wash the tension from his muscles. Over and over again, he relived the realization his fate was sealed, and Dorran found he didn’t care. Let the Elders do what they would with him. They would not touch Meagan. There was no denying he wanted this woman who came with such responsibility. Her face, her body, her smile, her soul all called to him. Still, he had a mission. The Elders’ prophecy stated a woman of purity would lead the shadow walkers to victory over the Sultan and his army of the undead. Planting his hands against the tiles of the shower wall, Dorran wondered if he had the strength to complete the mission without sabotaging the directive and destroying the woman in the next room. Tonight was a mistake on his part, he knew, yet he couldn’t recant the need coursing through his veins. “Get a hold of yourself,” he reminded his contemptuous body. “Complete the task and get out.”
With a towel wrapped around his hips, Dorran exited the shower. Surprised to see her arranging clothing on the counter, he replaced the gun in the holster hanging from the towel hook. Being on edge could make you reckless, he mused.
“Here are some things I thought you might need. Don’t worry, Logan won’t mind. After all, you were buds in the same unit, right?”
“Yeah, right.”
She flicked a hesitant glance at his body. Meagan examined the scars mingled with his ink including the ones that still lingered following the bomb blast. The reminders of war were always with him. Would she turn away in horror?
“You were injured. Serious, right?”
“I should be dead.” His voice sounded strange. “J.T. shared his blood, and I made it back.” He turned from her with that last declaration. Not before I killed seven of my team members, he redacted mentally. The deeper he shoved the memory, the less it disappeared. The waking minutes spent revisiting that night so long ago were growing with each day. Still, he would maintain like a SEAL.
“I’m glad you made it.” Meagan clutched a towel to her chest as she spoke. Her chin lifted past level, and she smiled slightly. “J.T. believes in you. Did you know, when we needed help, you were the first one he called?”
“No, I didn’t know that.” His friend, J.T. had needed him then. Slowly, he turned back to face her. “They needed me, I came. It’s what family does I suppose.”
She nodded and tightened the hold on the towel she clutched in her arms.
“Like now. You need my help, so I’m here. The Sultan has made an error in judgement by returning. You can bank on that.”
“That’s good.” She tilted her head and examined him. “Having you around is…it…I feel safe with you here.” The tentative smile warmed her complexion.
He needed to see her safe. His gut told him to steer clear, but his heart ached whenever she was near. Damn the Elders and their ultimatums. The odds were they would rue the day they chose him for the mission. He had other ideas. Meagan needed protection and more. Maybe dying would have to wait.
Chapter 11
So here she was lying next to this most desirable female fantasy, and they had barely touched. Meagan’s system couldn’t settle. Why hadn’t he tried to make it with her? Men were always saying one thing, but, in the end, doing the reverse of whatever they professed. Wasn’t that the way of things? All the girls her age said so. Maybe he wasn’t turned on by her, or maybe he was gay? Her teeth set on edge as she contemplated why this gorgeous hybrid, with muscles and strength in all the right places, wasn’t taking advantage of the opportunity. Without bragging, she figured she was as good as most and probably better than some. So why wasn’t he jumping her bones?
Sure, they had talked for a while. Dorran was great at small talk – places he had seen liberally sprinkled with biker’s lingo. He seemed relaxed in her space. She had trivial tidbits from the shelter – the small part of Cheniere Station her world revolved around. If they were going to talk, she wanted to hear about his time with the SEAL team. But something kept her from asking more than his rank and serial number, so to speak. Finally, her questions received no more than a grunt in response. His breathing had leveled out and changed tempo. Probably asleep. Funny, but her heart beat in sync with his.
The man lying next to her was an enigma. Part man, part werewolf with vampire blood running through his veins. So how could he walk about during the day? Dorran had explained the werewolf’s super charged healing power rejuvenated any damage done by the sun simultaneously. As he explained before, he craved the taste of blood - her blood? The idea proved strangely erotic. What would it feel like to share her blood with such a being? Then the idea of sharing space with a werewolf lent itself to scarier prospects. What if he lost it one night during a full moon? Did he do full moons or shift on demand? She glanced out the window at the large creamy sphere hanging in an inky black sky. Was he roused by the moon or not? Here, as he rested peacefully beside her, she couldn’t fathom him shifting into a snarling, mindless beast. Did he recall the things he did when he shifted? How many had he sent to their deaths or changed? Too many questions, she decided irritably. She lifted her arm, resting it across her forehead. The move eased some of a tension headache she had carried all day since the incident at the animal shelter.
“You’re here, but you’re not.” His voice vibrated along the taught strings of muscles in her body.
He had kept his word so far. The fact that he monitored her sleep had her puzzled. She was pretty sure he could read her thoughts, and now he sensed her state of unrest. How far did his talents go? The truth was it felt good to have him near. The incident at the shelter earlier that day had shaken her fortitude. Her nerves were shot full of holes by such a bizarre phenomenon. Her imagination took over, and a paranoia theory sprang to life as she warred with what she had witnessed. She’d fought off the worst of her concerns all day. No two ways about it, not every day came and went where a dog whispered your name.
***
“You wouldn’t understand,” she said.
Dorran grimaced in the darkness at that idea.
“Besides,
I’m not even sure there’s anything to it.” Turning to face the window where the moonlight filtered across the bed in gentle waves through the slats of the wooden blinds, she slid her arm under her head, resting her taught muscles against her own pulse. “I think I’ve been working too hard. That’s all.”
“You have.” Straightforward and void of sugarcoating, Dorran let his words settle as he leaned up on his elbow and watched her chew on the side of her lip.
The flannel of the borrowed pajama pants Dorran wore brushed against her leg. Meagan stilled.
With a strand of her hair between his fingers, he examined it without words. After a minute, he spoke. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”
Meagan sighed. “It’s nothing. I probably imagined the whole thing.” Frustration rippled over the tightness in her jaw. Dorran sensed that her thoughts had begun to conjure a totally different scene involving this man hoovering close. “Let me judge, okay?” His breath, warm with the faint smell of nicotine, brushed her cheek. “Tell me.”
She rolled to her back, posed to share the outlandish encounter. “A dog spoke to me today.” Here was where he snorted out a laugh and told her she had him going for a minute, right? Meagan eyeballed him as he didn’t.
“What did the dog say?” Dorran’s question wasn’t laced with sarcasm or soaked in doubt.
Meagan blinked. New territory, she decided – uncharted waters.
Dorran could see her wheels turning. Did she continue or not?
Meagan chewed on her lip as she stalled.
He waited patiently.
“I probably imagined the whole thing.” Staring hard at the moon, she blinked back a tear. “I’ve been missing my mom. In fact, I was thinking about her when the stray dog looked up at me, called me by name and asked for help?”
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