by Jenna Kernan
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He shook his head. How could he explain that even with her right in front of him, he already missed her, grieved their parting as if it had already come? Dreaded it as one dreads the phone call from the doctor with the test results. His mind scrambled to find a way. How could he keep her and not lose everything and everyone else?
Mac reached for her, letting his hands slide from her waist to the enticing curve of her hips. Then he tugged, bringing her against him. He’d take her again, knowing that each time he did he only wanted her more. He wasn’t immune to this woman, because it wasn’t her vampire gifts that drew him. It wasn’t just her scent and her lush body. It was her kind heart and her brave spirit. She was too idealistic. Too gullible and too trusting for this world. She was his opposite, his perfect fit. She needed him. He needed her.
He could protect her, satisfy her. He wished he could offer more.
Her hands slipped under his shirt. Fingernails raked his back as she removed the garment and then lifted her chin, silently demanding a kiss.
He swept in, the passion rising in his blood, in the melting of their bodies. She stroked his neck, and one hand caressed his head, but his hair was too short for her to find any purchase there, so she wrapped her arms about his neck and clung as he walked to the inviting bed. She fell backward and he landed on top of her, taking enough of his weight on his arms that he did not hurt her, but not so much that she was not pinned beneath him. He relished the contact of their mouths and the pressing of his hips to hers.
She made a sound deep in her throat. He loved that sound. It held anticipation and pleasure, the cry a sweet blending of need and the purr of contentment. She wrapped her long legs about his hips and locked her ankles, pressing against the ridge of engorged flesh as she rocked. Mac released his breath in a whoosh. He’d wanted to go slow, but she was giving all the signals of needing a more aggressive engagement.
He drew back, arching up onto his extended arms. “What have you got in mind tonight, Princess?”
In answer she clamped her long legs about him. She lifted up again, bouncing against him and then falling back on the bed.
“I want what you always give me.”
“And what’s that?”
“Mind-blowing orgasms and...” Her words drifted off.
He lifted his chin, urging her to go on.
She bit her lower lip. He watched the plump pink tissue slide between white teeth and felt his mouth go dry as hunger surged and thundered inside him like an avalanche.
“When you’re here with me, I’m not scared anymore. I forget what’s out there hunting me. That’s the best part. I make it through the day knowing that you’ll be here with me at night.”
He wished he could be there forever. His smile faltered. When had he stopped wishing to go back to that day, the moment before he’d ordered his men into that building, and started wanting Bri? There was so much he wanted to forget. So much he needed to remember, and Bri was confusing him. His hands stilled.
“Mac? Did I say something wrong?”
“No. Nothing.” He slipped out of his trousers and Skivvies, dropping them on the floor. Then he stretched out beside her.
That was when he realized that she did the same thing for him. When he was with her, he wasn’t back there reliving that night, fighting against his guilt and anguish. She freed him from that pain.
He rested on his hip to stroke her side, starting at the soft junction of her arm and torso down to the scrap of lace that didn’t quite hide her charms. Expertly he swept it down her slim legs and tossed her panties to the ground. She settled back on the bedding, sliding one hand behind her head and smiling up at him. She was letting him decide. He liked calling the shots.
He started at her wrist and worked to her neck. All the while the scent of orchids and musk surrounded him. She was so sweet, he wanted to take a bite. Mac let his teeth score the skin of her collarbone. She gasped, and her fingers danced over his shoulders, kneading his tired muscles and scoring his skin with her sharp nails. By the time he reached her breasts she glowed from within, that strange, alluring golden shimmer that he was now certain was not a trick of the flame but just her reaction to arousal. The skin of her stomach was the softest, softer even than her full breasts. Here he had to pull back and take a breath. Her arousal fired his own, and the need became nearly too sharp.
She was close. He could see it in the moisture on her skin, read it in the shimmering color of her green eyes and hear it in the soft, needy sounds vibrating in her throat.
He stroked her most sensitive flesh and sucked in a breath through his teeth. She was so damned wet and ready. He’d bring her to orgasm and then come with her on the second round.
Then she did something new, sliding two fingers inside her cleft. He watched her move her hand in and out. He stopped breathing. Then she reached with her wet fingers until she had a hold of him. Her hand was slick as she moved her palm along his shaft. He closed his eyes and rocked to his back. Sensing his momentary confusion, Bri pursued like any good warrior, lifting a leg and throwing it across his hips. She straddled him and brought his erect flesh to her slippery folds. Then she dropped down on him until her hips collided with his. He groaned at the rush of pleasure that shot through his abdomen.
No you don’t, he thought. Hold on, soldier. You are not coming. Not yet.
He gritted his teeth and glanced up at her. She sensed victory, because her eyes widened and glittered dangerously.
Oh, the hell with this.
He rolled her to her back and thrust. This time she gasped, her eyes rounding.
“You want it like this?”
She nodded and rocked her hips. He slipped farther inside her. His eyes closed as he grappled for control.
“Faster,” she whispered. “I’m so close, Travis. Please. Faster.”
Orders received.
He slipped out and then came back hard. She arched, lifting to meet each thrust. He forgot to breathe as she made her final climb. Wisps of golden mist rose from her heated flesh. He felt her so close in the tightness of her passage and the frantic thrusts that met each long descent. Her breathing changed. She cried out once and then again.
“Travis! Oh, God, yes!”
He loved the sound of his name on her lips. Her contractions gripped him and he relinquished control. The came together for the first time. She threw back her head and then felt his last thrust. She opened her eyes and stared up at him, her face flushed and her expression filled with wonder. He watched the pleasure roll through her as it fired along every nerve ending in his body.
Her eyes drifted shut as he fell beside her. Their bodies came to rest. Breathing fast, they lay inert.
His limbs now heavy and clumsy. God, he’d never felt anything like that and knew he never would again. He didn’t deserve her.
He closed his eyes and his body went slack. He didn’t deserve this peace. Not after what he’d done.
How fast the guilt closed in. He squeezed his eyes shut as the faces of his men rose up to haunt him.
He could hear their voices calling to him for orders, and then the sound of gunshots and the cries of agony. When his first two teams went silent, why had he sent in the third? He was like those miners in West Virginia running into a mine shaft filled with methane trying to save their fellows and ending up just as dead.
They’d all run in. Every damned one of them. And they’d all died. All but him and Johnny.
Why had he sent in the second team and then the third? If he’d waited, they’d all be alive. Nothing could have saved his first Fire Team. He accepted that. But he should have held at least one team back. Any squad leader worth his salt would have done so. But not him.
His first command. His last command.
Mac bolted up. Bri groaned and th
en followed him, stroking his back.
“Will you lie here next to me?”
It was the one pleasure he denied himself. To sleep in her bed, in her arms, would be too much like what he longed for with Bri. For many nights now he had wanted more than sex. More than the brief pleasure of release before parting.
“I have to check the perimeter,” he said and grabbed his discarded clothing.
Wouldn’t that just be fine if he waltzed out of here with Bri? Turned his back on the colonel and Johnny and just took off.
He had too much honor to do that. He was a member of the Corps, so he’d see this through to the end.
Bri would have to understand. He wasn’t free to do as he liked.
He slipped into his skivvies and trousers in one motion, rising to his feet as he fastened the waistband. He stooped to retrieve his shirt and had it on when he reached the door. He turned back, allowing himself the pleasure of seeing her there on the bed they had just shared.
He left her to sleep and went outside, running a perimeter and checking for any sign of intruders. He made two sweeps, one close and one farther out. There was nothing but the scent of where Johnny had passed on his way back to their compound. He wondered how long before Headquarters asked him why he wasn’t spending nights in his own bed. He was going to say he wasn’t sleeping well, which was true. They’d probably draw more blood. Damn, he already felt like a one-man blood bank.
When he returned to the storage depot, he listened for the sound of Bri’s breathing. Instead he heard a sound that stopped him. The sniffling and the choking were unmistakable. Was she crying?
Now what did he do?
He hesitated. He was no good at comforting women. He only knew one way to go about it. If he went in there, he knew what would happen. Mac blew out a breath.
“Damn it,” he muttered and then marched into hostile territory.
He gathered her up in his arms and she clung to him.
“I don’t deserve this,” she cried. “Not after what I’ve done to other men.”
That stopped him. Survivor’s guilt, they called it. He recognized it, because he’d seen enough shrinks and knew all about how it was normal and blah, blah, blah. But looking at Bri now was like looking in a mirror.
“It’s wrong, isn’t it? Shouldn’t I be suffering, doing some penance for Matthew?”
“It won’t bring him back.” That’s what they had told him again and again.
She drew away. “So I just forget what I did? Just pretend it never happened?”
“If you figure out how to do that, let me know, because I’ve done worse.”
She stared up at him.
“Besides, you didn’t know your own power.”
“And you didn’t know what was in that building.”
He used his thumbs to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “At least you can keep from doing it again. Now that you know, I mean.”
“So what am I supposed to do? I can’t touch them or let them touch me.”
“You could have children if you wanted. I know you can.”
“Not without hurting someone, and then my babies would be like me.”
“Not exactly. Not as powerful, because they’d be second generation. Each generation is less potent than the previous one.”
She drew away to sit on the side of the bed, head bowed and hands pressed flat on her knees. “I wanted children. But it’s like having a genetic abnormality. It would be wrong to pass this on.”
He released a sigh, and he realized afterward that the emptiness he felt yawning in his chest was not sympathy but sorrow. She wouldn’t have children from him or anyone else, and he was certain that she would have been a great mother.
He drew her down to the mattress, lying still as she curled against him. He stroked her shoulder and arm as her breathing went from ragged to steady.
“How do you live with it?”
He stared at the ceiling. “Wake up each morning and try to make amends. Try to fix what I can.”
He lived it every damned day and it didn’t get easier, but he wouldn’t tell her that.
“I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for what I’ve done,” she whispered
“Maybe we shouldn’t.”
She lifted her head, gazed up at him with eyes streaming tears and nodded. “You’re right.”
* * *
Bri didn’t know exactly what woke her as she startled upright in the empty bed pushed against the side of the far wall of the former storage depot. She listened while searching the dark room for any threat. Everything seemed still and calm, but her heart jackhammered.
“Johnny?” she called and then heard a roar.
There was a thump that shook the building.
Bri sprang from the bed as the door flew open and several men charged inside. She raced around the small room moving smoothly into her top speed, but an instant later the windows were blocked from outside and she found no escape. It was clear that none of the four soldiers in the room could see her. She knew now that she was moving too fast for them to perceive. But it was also clear that they had barricaded each window and the door of the supply depot before she could escape. How long could she keep her momentum up and flash about a room from which there was no egress? Would they shoot her?
The Marines held their automatic weapons ready, barring the door and only exit. She glanced at them as she passed by again. From her point of view, each stood still as a gray statue, their square jaws the most prominent feature visible below their helmets.
The adrenaline poured through her, but the room was secure, as Mac called it and she was caught like a lobster in a grocery store fish tank. Where was Mac? What had they done to Johnny? How long could she run before they saw her, shot her?
She raced on but now her legs burn with fatigue. She paused at the window to try again to force the barrier back and failed. One of the Marines swung his rifle in a slow arc in her direction. The action must have been split-second to him, but she was gone before he had time to point the barrel at her.
She kicked at the door and then considered trying to take the weapons. She grabbed one of the rifles and pulled. The Marine held on. She lifted a foot to his chest and yanked, using a tactic Mac had taught her. The weapon slipped from his grip.
Great. Now she had this heavy rifle to lug around and three more weapons to take. The metal began to burn her hands. She looked at the men’s belts and saw grenades and knives and sidearms and God knew what all in all those pockets and pouches. She’d never get all the weapons, and even if she did, four Marines did not need weapons to capture one exhausted female.
Where was Mac? What had they done to Johnny?
She called to them, shouting their names, praying they would hear and come in time.
Then she realized with a sickening jolt that she wanted them to fight their own fellows for her. No, she wouldn’t. If she was getting out of this, she would have to do it herself and without hurting any of these men. The rifle fell from her hands. Bri slowed. One of the three soldiers who still had his weapon. Everything sped up, the four men sprang at her and Bri sprang away, coming to her feet once more before darting from them again.
Mac had trained her to use her speed and told her about how females were said to used their gifts of attraction.
They seemed frozen again in the place she had just been, but she could see them straightening now, their movements slow but discernible as she reached top speeds. After several more minutes of running she heard more men outside. Did they have instructions not to open the doors or windows until she was captured or...
She looked at the strain on the faces of the young men sent inside to capture a vampire. This wasn’t right. None of this.
Bri stopped.
One of the soldiers blocked her path.
She collided with him and fell. Two Marines seized her by both arms as a third clasped her legs. Where was the fourth?
She felt a needle prick and then a rushing sensation as her mouth dropped open and her head lolled back.
Chapter 15
At eleven hundred the following morning Mac’s radio crackled to life. He’d just left the medical facility, but already the command wanted him back. They said that Johnny had broken perimeter. But that didn’t make any sense. Johnny was watching Bri, and Mac knew Lam wouldn’t leave her unless he scented a bloodsucker, and even then Lam would come straight to him. Unless there wasn’t time.
Bri.
Mac headed out of the qala. He’d find Johnny’s trail or he’d find what was happening.
His phone chimed again with another text message adding to the three missed calls. The colonel wanted to see him ASAP.
Did the colonel already know about Bri?
Mac had that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He acknowledged that he was obligated to report to the colonel. But some part of him had changed after the attack, and not just the furry part. Mac wasn’t the good soldier any longer. He’d recognized it for a long time. Bri’s coming just made him accept what his heart already knew. Mac didn’t want to follow orders and he knew Johnny didn’t, either.
Was it time for them to go? Past time?
He felt the tug of loyalty to the Corps pulling against his duty to his friend and to Bri.
Mac headed through the courtyard and paused at the sound of a jeep. His heart sunk. He glanced toward the adjacent wall knowing he could leap it, then his eyes trained on the surveillance camera fixed to the tree just beyond.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“MacConnelly!” It was the colonel’s voice. He hadn’t expected to see his commanding officer waiting for him outside headquarters. “Get your ass out here.”
The moment Mac appeared the colonel started shouting. “He’s off base again.”
That didn’t make sense. Johnny was on watch. He was guarding Bri.
