by Marie Harte
He was so strong, so undeniably insane was all she could think as she blinked into his eyes closing to slits as he cut off her air. She sent out one last pleas to her family, praying it would go through. “Uncle Max, Thorne. Not…going…to last…”
“Jurek’s coming. Hold on,” Max sent her.
She forced herself to go limp and lost herself in the blackness of unconsciousness.
Richard and his brother had never felt so powerful. They teetered on the verge of orgasm, from not only Storm’s soft curves, but from the emotional rollercoaster of want and need and love. She loves us. Always loved us. It was Savage who screwed us over. That fucker who ruined it all.
“Richard, my boy, you’re alive.”
Richard rolled off the limp form beneath him with the intent to fire his gun at the intrusion when he realized he no longer held it. Had he dropped it? But then it didn’t matter, because Jurek was there with a look of surprised joy on his face. In his secret hideaway. Jurek had found them, finally.
Their mentor stood in arched doorway leading to the forest exit and held his arms wide open. “I can’t believe it’s you! When I heard you were alive, I didn’t dare believe. Come here, my boy. My favorite agent. The golden boy. It crushed me when I thought I’d lost you.” Jurek had tears in his eyes. The man didn’t spare a glance for Storm Buchanan, focused only on Richard. On them.
Overjoyed, they took two steps toward Jurek when people suddenly poured into the cave behind Jurek. More flew down the ladderway, from where he’d just come. Then Rafe Savage appeared out of nowhere and knocked him down.
“You piece of shit,” Savage growled and pummeled him.
They couldn’t process it all as lines blurred and pleasure melted into pain. What was real, what wasn’t? They had no idea about anything anymore.
“She’s okay, just unconscious,” Thorne Buchanan said.
“Rafe, enough!” Jurek yelled. “You’re killing him.”
Savage punched them once more and ceased, but they felt the damage all the same. Their stomach hurt, they couldn’t move their mouth and their left eye swelled so badly they couldn’t see out of it.
Then a giant weight lifted from them as Savage shoved them—him—aside and reached for the woman. He bent over Storm, took her in his arms and murmured endearments that made no sense. When she groaned, Savage hugged her to his chest, swearing to never let her go.
“Richard?”
He blinked up into Jurek’s stern face and felt a sense of separation from himself. He had been Richard for so long, yet he was also himself. Part and apart, yet together.
Jurek nodded to himself. “Not just Richard. Jonathan too, hmm?”
Richard and Jonathan smiled, and their entire body lit with pleasure, ignoring the pain. “You know me,” he tried to say but couldn’t form the words since his jaw wouldn’t obey. You finally see us as we are. Two entities, one man.
Jurek motioned to his men, who lifted them to their feet and dragged them out of the cave, because their legs refused to work. The group went the long way and exited into the woods, near the main road.
Once outside, a moment of clarity struck. The psychic edge that fueled their instincts for self-preservation kicked in. Before they could take a step toward the cluster of dark SUVs, where more agents stood with guns, Jonathan—he knew his name—tore free and dashed into the woods, heading for his cabin.
“Brother, I’m coming!” he garbled through an all-consuming pain.
Footsteps neared behind him, but he wouldn’t let his enemies keep him and Richard apart any longer. As if in slow motion, he stepped on a pressurized device, heard a soft click…and died.
Richard waited for him with open arms.
Chapter Fourteen
Three days later, Storm still hadn’t heard from Rafe. Her neck still bore bruises, as did the lower section of her abdomen, which had turned a dark purple. And her voice remained scratchy. But she’d fared much better than Thorne, who had a hard time mending in the hospital with broken ribs, a fractured femur and a bruised lung. The swelling in his face had healed much faster than the swelling of his ego. During her visits, no less than a dozen nurses had stopped by to flirt and linger over his heroic exploits.
Apparently, Rafe had visited her brother in the hospital with tall tales to the staff about Thorne’s superhero status. But had he come to see her? No.
On the upside, at least Luc had forgiven her. She’d explained her worries and had promised not to tell her parents what had really happened. Uncle Max was a different story. She didn’t look forward to her debriefing next week, when he would consider okaying her return to work.
Her mother and father were due to return from their vacation. She should have been happier. She truly loved her family.
Instead, she moped, hurt and confused about her relationship with a man who’d said he loved her but refused all contact with her.
A car pulled up in her parents’ driveway and she hurried to the front door. She yanked it open only to see Thorne leaning against the reluctant man of her dreams.
She glared at her lover—her ex-lover—and then ignored him. “What are you doing here? Well, Frankenstein? Nothing to say for yourself?”
Thorne’s lips twitched and turned into a groan. “Still hurts to smile. I couldn’t miss Mom and Dad’s homecoming, now could I? Besides, I hate hospitals. Too many sick people there.”
Storm gently helped him to the couch. “What about Miss April?”
“Who?” Thorne asked in confusion.
Rafe replied with a hint of a grin, “I think she means your nurse. You didn’t hear her mention a brief stint as a centerfold? I tried not to overhear, but I was helping her manage your stubborn ass back into bed at the time.”
He lifted his gaze to hers, and she couldn’t miss the hunger in his eyes.
She didn’t know how to act around this man who tied her in knots. So she turned to her brother. “So how did you end up with Rafe?”
Rafe answered her. “You ought to be thanking me. I’d just arrived to visit the walking wounded here when I saw him trying to sneak into the elevator. Don’t worry, I checked him out with the staff. He’s okay as long as someone can watch over him.”
“I don’t need a nursemaid. Though maybe Miss April—”
Storm interrupted, “Why are you really here, Rafe?” She crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed with him. “Why have you been ducking my calls?”
Thorne settled back and watched them with a smirk on his face.
“We need to talk. Privately.” Rafe glared at her brother. “I’m not putting on a show for you.” He walked a few steps away but stopped when Storm didn’t follow. “Please, Storm. A few moments of your time without an audience?”
She huffed, “Fine. Follow me.” She led him out on the back porch for some privacy. “Well?” When he said nothing, just stared at her with those intense brown eyes, she swore. “Your time is ticking away, Savage.”
“You are so beautiful. That raspy voice is really sexy. God, I missed you.” He kissed her before she could protest, and like every other time they touched, she didn’t want it to end.
But she wasn’t a doormat, and it still hurt that he’d avoided her. To her way of thinking, Rafe Savage had some groveling to do. When he let her go, she asked on a breath, “Why did you stay away?”
His eyes narrowed. “Because I was afraid I’d beat you. What the fuck were you thinking to offer yourself up to Glass like some damn sacrifice?” He gripped her shoulders tight. “I almost died when he hurt you. To know you were in there with him, to see you lying on that bed…” He choked and clutched her to him.
He hugged her so hard she groaned.
“I feel like a ragdoll.”
He eased back and lifted her shirt, looking for injuries.
She tried to slap his hands away, but he persisted. “Rafe, my brother’s in there,” she hissed.
“I know. In there. And your parents will be home in six minutes.”
&
nbsp; “What?”
“The foresight thing. Hard to ignore. But don’t try to change the subject. That bruise on your stomach looks like it hurts. Poor baby.” He knelt and kissed it.
Her arousal burned. In seconds she was wet.
“Your nipples are hard.” He stood and ran his hand down her belly and under her panties. Callused fingers slid through her folds and he groaned. “And you’re wet. God, I love how you respond to me.” He removed his hand and hugged her closer, careful to treat her gently. “I’ve been dreaming about holding you. I missed you so much, baby. It’s been killing me to not make love to you.” His voice lowered. “To taste you again.”
“Well, same here.” Storm tried to ignore her racing heart. If they were anywhere else, she’d have dropped her pants and let him put that tongue to work. “You said you loved me.”
“I do.” His growing smile mirrored her own.
“Well, I love you.”
“I know. While I spent the past three days pissed as hell at you, I cleaned up my place and made some room. Of course, the study is mine. But I have no problem turning the spare bedroom into an office for you. I doubt you’ll stop working for your uncle after we’re married.”
“We—what?”
He kissed her with a tenderness that shook her, his caresses over her bruised neck full of warmth and caring. She melted into his embrace, more than conscious of the erection prodding her belly through the press of their clothes.
He broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to have your whole world turned upside down? When the one person you care about more than life says the words you’re afraid of, but desperately needing to hear, and all at the wrong time?
“I had sworn off serious relationships for a lot of reasons. For years I flew solo. And then I met you. From the first, you were special. You threw me into a bar brawl. You stole my witness, and you nearly screwed up my Locklen investigation.”
“Hey, you—”
“How is it you managed to tie me in knots when I was the one with the cable ties?” he asked in a husky voice. “Storm, you make me feel things I never thought I could feel.” Rafe’s eyes had a watery sheen and Storm couldn’t look away. “I love you, baby. If anything had happened to you, I don’t think I’d have survived it. I want to marry you. I want you to have our children. You and me, together. Not just now or tomorrow, but forever.”
“Can you see that far?”
His grin widened. “You wouldn’t believe the dream I had last night. But I only see potential futures. The one I want all depends on you.”
“Yes,” she whispered and kissed him for all she was worth. In his embrace, she forgot the world around them and reveled in the strength of his love.
Until the clapping behind them startled her into pulling back.
Her mother and father eyed Rafe with surprise and happiness. Luc rolled his eyes. Thorne stood there with a scowl on his face.
Her mother wiped a tear from her eye. “Oh, that was lovely.”
“I love him,” she confessed.
Thorne groaned. “God, I need to wash my eyes out with soap. You two think way too loudly for my peace of mind. I’ll be in the living room, trying not to kill myself.”
Luc laughed. “Like you could manage that under all those bruises. Come on, gimp, let me help you to the sofa.” He winked at Storm. “Congrats you two, and welcome to the family, Rafe.” Then he guided Thorne inside.
Rafe held her close and held out a hand to her father. “Rafe Savage, sir. I’d like to marry your daughter.”
“I see that.” Her father glanced at her mother. “We picked a helluva time to take a vacation, hmm?”
“The perfect time, I’m thinking. Oh, I can’t wait to hold my granddaughter. She’ll be so cute, but such a handful.” Her mother winked and dragged her father back into the house. “Champagne for everyone! Except Thorne. Not with your pain medication, young man.”
The door swung shut after them.
Storm grinned. “Welcome to my interesting family. Still sure you want to marry me?”
He took a small box out of his back pocket and opened it. “Storm Buchanan, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
A large marquis-cut diamond lay in the center of the box. The ring looked old and blazed in the sunlight, daring her to try it on.
“It was my mother’s,” Rafe said quietly. “She would have loved you.”
Storm let him slip the ring on her finger, and deep inside her, everything finally felt right. “I wish I could tell them you’re in good hands now. I love you, Rafe.”
“Not as much as I love you.”
She smiled. “A man who actually argues with me. You’re perfect, aren’t you?”
He snorted. “I wish. I have a feeling you’ll have me wrapped around your little finger before you can say boo.”
“Boo.”
He kissed her again. “See? Already working.”
She laughed as they walked to the back door, arm in arm. A faint scent blew by them on the wind, but Storm knew her mother had nothing but azaleas and pansies in the garden. “Rafe, that smell. What is it?”
“Gardenias,” he said with wonder. “My mother always wore that scent.” He turned to her, his heart in his eyes. “I told you she’d love you.”
About the Author
Marie Harte is an avid reader who loves all things paranormal and futuristic. Reading romances since she was twelve, she fell in love with happy endings and knew writing was her calling.
Twenty-plus years later, the Marine Corps, a foray through Information Technology, a husband and four kids, and her dream has finally come true. Marie lives in Georgia with her family and loves hearing from readers.
To read more about Marie, visit www.marieharte.com.
Look for these titles by Marie Harte
Now Available:
Cougar Falls
Rachel’s Totem
In Plain Sight
Feral Attraction
Foxy Lady
Ethereal Foes
The Dragons’ Demon
Duncan’s Descent
I Dream of Dragons Vol. 1
Westlake Enterprises
To Hunt a Sainte
Storming His Heart
A Scorching Seduction
Enjoying the Show
Sins of Summer
He’s enough to tempt a Sainte to sin.
To Hunt a Sainte
© 2010 Marie Harte
Westlake Enterprises, Book 1
Telekinetic Alexandra Sainte is through serving time behind a desk at Buchanan Investigations. She’s more than ready to prove she’s capable of fieldwork, if only her uncle will give her the chance. Tired of waiting, she turns a sudden opportunity into something more.
Her unauthorized raid of a suspected kidnapper’s office goes off without a hitch—mostly—but as she makes her escape, she sees a pair of golden eyes watching her every move. Eyes that spark erotic dreams of a dark stranger taking her in ways that make her blush.
There’s a reason Hunter Greye can’t take his gaze off the sticky-fingered woman he catches ruining his investigation. She fights like a warrior. She bears a striking resemblance to a string of kidnapping victims. And she stirs a wildness within him he thought he’d learned to control a long time ago. She’s a dangerous distraction he can’t afford.
Thrown together in an undercover operation to find the mastermind behind the kidnappings, Alex and Hunter fall in lust, in love, and in danger. Only by trusting each other can they save the girl…and each other.
Warning: Beware psychics with attitude, a killer red dress, a ruthless villain with an angel obsession, and rivals who can’t figure out who’s better on top.
Enjoy the following excerpt for To Hunt a Sainte:
Despite the glass frame around the closed office door, Hunter needed more than perfect vision to see in the dim light. He took a moment to focus, and the office space brightened. High-quality
leather furniture and expensive art decorated Omaney’s space. Photographs of the slick businessman shaking hands with prominent politicians graced the burnt orange walls while a state-of-the-art computer whirred to life on Omaney’s solid-oak desk. Where two masked figures waited.
The arrival of security stopped the intruders’ hasty search. The door burst open, and the largest guard waved a gun at them. “What the hell do you two think you’re doing? Get away from the damned computer, on your knees.”
The guards surrounded them, obviously expecting the masked figures to stop whatever they hell they had planned and kneel on the floor. Clad in black from head to toe, only one of the prowlers looked big enough to successfully engage his opponents. The other was smaller in comparison, a slim figure huddled behind the bigger male. So it came as a surprise to watch the smaller man attack first, taking down the largest guard with a kick to his gun hand and a punch to his neck. The intruder’s partner moved with an efficient grace. He looked as if he spared little more energy than needed to subdue the guards, working in tandem with his companion.
In minutes, all four of Omaney’s sentries sprawled bruised and unconscious on the floor, their guns in a pile on a nearby chair. The intruders had yet to speak. The larger of the two hurried back to the computer desk and plugged in a thumb drive. He typed at the keyboard, then waited, glancing repeatedly at the clock on the wall. The smaller figure remained still, vigilant while he—or was that she?—watched the doorway.
Hunter had sensed something odd about the smaller male, and now that he concentrated, he could make out a woman’s form under all that black. She had taken on her attackers with ease, dispatching them quickly. Her large partner had been equally skilled at hand-to-hand combat, and Hunter reevaluated his assessment of the pair, wondering exactly why they sought to invade Omaney’s space. These weren’t ordinary burglars.
Nor was Omaney an ordinary businessman. Due to new evidence Hunter’s team had unearthed a mere week ago, he had no doubt Peter Omaney was involved in their current case. But he didn’t know where these prowlers fit into the equation. It had taken his agency time and exhausting effort to get even a whiff of Omaney’s involvement. The philanthropic businessman was squeaky clean. But obviously someone else knew there was more to Omaney than met the eye.
