Unspeakable (Beyond Human)

by Nina Croft

  After poking through the pile of clothes, she settled on a black pencil skirt and a white silk blouse. She selected a pair of black lace panties—but discarded the matching bra, she almost never wore one—and black stockings because it was cold out.

  As she pulled the T-shirt over her head, he turned around. She went still. His gaze dropped as he took her in, and heat filled his eyes. She resisted the urge to take a peek in his head. It probably wasn’t a good idea to know what he was thinking right now. Her nipples peaked, and a tingle ran down through her belly, flooding her sex with heat.

  She’d always used sex as a relaxant, and it had been too long. Her body was clamoring for release, and it wasn’t getting any here and now.

  She ignored him, just to prove to herself that she could, and wriggled out of her leather pants and stripped off her panties, so she was naked. Then she slipped on the clean ones. He didn’t shift, but she could sense the need in him. He had a willpower stronger than hers, and he held himself still while watching her every move.

  “You like?” she asked as she slipped the silk shirt over her shoulders and slowly fastened the buttons.

  “Don’t you know?”

  She didn’t answer, just rolled the black stockings up her legs, a sort of striptease in reverse. Then she put on the skirt and finally slipped her feet into black court shoes with a three-inch heel.

  She did a twirl. “Do I look the part?”

  “You’ll do.”

  She had the urge to bait him. He was too cool, and it was starting to irritate her. She gave in and slipped into his mind. He wanted her but refused to be a slave to those wants. He was doing everything he could to keep an emotional distance from her. Fergus was right, she was trouble. And it was not inconceivable that he might still have to give the order, have her killed.

  She pursed her lips, and strolled toward him, coming to a halt only inches away. She breathed in the warm male scent of him, familiar from her dreams. She hadn’t meant to touch him—she also might need to make a difficult decision—but something was goading her on. Maybe she needed to shatter his belief that he could resist her.

  Resting her hand on his chest, she felt the thud of his heart beneath her palm. “You mean you can’t kiss me then kill me,” she murmured.

  “Fuck.”

  “What? You forgot I could read your mind?”

  “I was momentarily distracted.”

  She leaned in a little closer. He was telling himself to back away, but still, he stood there, and a small smile tugged at her lips. She trailed her hand over his chest, curled it around the back of his neck.

  “Just one kiss,” she whispered. “So we can both prove we can back away…or not.”

  Shock flared in his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t realized she was as tempted as he was. Tugging his head down toward her, she stared into his golden eyes as she came up on her tiptoes. Her lips touched his and fire shot though her blood. It was just the lightest of touches, and it wasn’t nearly enough.

  He took control of the kiss, his hands gliding down her back, over her ass, pulling her closer as his tongue thrust hot and wet into her mouth. He tasted sharp, spicy and familiar. With that thought, she fought the need, but was caught up now, helpless to break the contact. God, he felt good. He was urging her backward, and she banged into the edge of the bed with the backs of her legs. Then she was falling, landing in the pile of clothes without breaking the kiss, his big, solid body coming down on top of her.

  The hard length of his erection pressed against her belly, and she wriggled, trying to get it where she needed it the most. The stupid skirt was too tight and wouldn’t allow her to part her thighs. Frustration raised a growl low down in her throat. She bit at his lower lip as his hand slipped down over her thighs, found the hem of the skirt, and pushed upward. Her breathing was short and sharp. She needed him to touch her, she needed him inside her. Or was it his need washing through her?

  It didn’t matter, all that mattered was—

  A pounding sounded at the door, and they both went still.

  “Boss, the car’s ready for you.”

  Fergus.

  She waited for Ethan to get off her. But his big body stayed firmly in place. He held her gaze as his hand moved beneath her skirt, hesitating as he reached the bare skin at the top of her stockings, then he touched her lightly between her thighs and the world stopped. Her lashes fluttered closed, and for a second, she just let herself feel. He rubbed the finger along the seam of her sex, through the lace of the panties, and her hips rose as tingles ran through her, coalescing in her nipples, between her thighs.

  “You want me?”

  Her lids flew open at his words, and she forced herself back into control. “Well, you don’t have to be a mind reader to know that.”

  “No, I can feel you hot and wet.”

  She took a deep breath, slid her hand between them, and pushed. For a second she thought he wasn’t going to shift. The knock came again. “Fergus is right. This would be a really bad idea.”

  His eyes widened. “You’re reading Fergus?”

  “Well, you didn’t think you were my one and only did you. Sorry, darling, but we aren’t exclusive.”

  “Bitch.” But he pushed himself up. She lay there for a moment, admiring the bulge at his groin. God, she wanted that erection. But it really was a bad idea. She blew out a breath, got to her feet, and straightened her skirt. Then she turned back to the bed, dug about in the pile of clothes and found the matching jacket, and put it on. At least it covered her nipples, which were poking at the silk of the shirt, super sensitive and wanting some attention. Not going to happen.

  When she opened the door, Fergus stood there, his hand raised ready to pound some more. He thought they’d been fucking in here.

  She patted him on the arm as she went past. “Don’t worry. His virtue is safe. You got us in time.”

  He glanced from her to where Ethan stood behind her. His eyes narrowed, and then he handed Ethan his jacket. “You said no more than thirty minutes.”

  She peered over her shoulder. “Why, Ethan, darling, don’t you trust yourself alone with me?”

  “Hell, no. Let’s go.”

  The car pulled up at the front of the office building. Fergus got out and opened the door for her. As she climbed out, she searched the area with her mind, hunting for a contact. When she didn’t find anyone, she hesitated.

  They had to be here.

  This time she explored with her eyes. And found the colonel. He was standing in a doorway opposite her. His eyes caught hers briefly, and then he walked away. She didn’t linger on him, not wanting to draw attention. Instead, she followed Ethan up the steps and through the sliding glass doors and into the reception area. There was a security checkpoint manned by two men in uniform, complete with a walk-through scanner. They waved Ethan and Fergus through the doorway to the side—clearly, they weren’t a security risk.

  “She’s Category 1,” Ethan said, and they nodded and gestured for her to walk through the scanner. Even though she was unarmed, she held her breath waiting for the machine to light up, alarms to ring. Luckily it couldn’t pick up bad thoughts and she was through.

  “Anybody would think you were up to no good here,” she murmured as the elevator doors closed. “So what’s category 1?”

  “Dodgy as hell,” Ethan replied, and she laughed.

  “Dodgy?”

  “Okay, maybe dangerous is a better word.”

  “A little better.” She nodded to Fergus who’d entered the elevator with them and was staring straight ahead, his expression grim. She didn’t have to look into his mind to see he wasn’t happy with the situation. “Does he go everywhere with you?” she asked.

  “He’s my assistant.”

  She pouted. “I thought I was your assistant. I bet I can do more for you than Fergus can. Maybe he’s jealous.” She knew for a fact that he wasn’t. He just didn’t trust her, which was probably very sensible of him. “So what am I supposed to do as yo
ur personal assistant? Because I warn you, I don’t type and I don’t take dictation.”

  He glanced down at her. “I’ll find something for you to do.”

  She was suddenly extremely aware of her body, the silk against her skin. Trouble was, she knew exactly what he was thinking. An image flashed in her mind: she was straddling him in his big leather chair, skirt hiked up around her hips, his mouth at her breasts. Heat washed through her. She’d never thought of telepathy as foreplay before, but it was actually extremely effective.

  Beside her, Fergus cleared his throat.

  “I think we’re embarrassing Fergus,” she said. “And we’re not even touching.”

  The elevator doors opened at that moment into another reception area.

  “I want to talk to you,” Fergus said to Ethan as they crossed the room.

  She knew exactly what Fergus wanted to talk about, and she also knew that Ethan wanted to tell the other man about her little superpower.

  Would that be a problem?

  Probably no, because if, or rather when, they took the Conclave down, chances were Fergus would be going down as well, though, in fact, his loyalty wasn’t to the Conclave but to Ethan himself. And she liked him for that, though, it really shouldn’t have mattered.

  Ethan looked from Fergus to her, and she gave a little shrug. “Feel free.” She waved a hand around the room. “I’ll wait here, and make myself at home.”

  He pressed a button on his wrist, and she heard the click of locks around the room.

  “In case of attack,” he said. “Now I know you’ll be safe.”

  “Sweet of you to care.”

  As they disappeared into the inner office and the door shut behind them, the strength went out of her, and she crossed to the sofa along one wall and sank down. The lack of real sleep—drugs didn’t count—and all that had happened was taking its toll, sapping her strength. She didn’t even have the energy to reach out and check what they were talking about. But she could guess. Fergus was no doubt telling him that she was trouble and he shouldn’t trust her and…blah, blah, blah.

  All she had to do was sit and wait for Jake to make contact. After they’d “talked,” she could decide on her next move. And figure out how she was going to keep her distance so when the time came to eliminate her dream lover—who was one hell of a kisser—she wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

  But she hoped Jake would make contact soon, because any more kisses like the last one and all bets were off.

  Chapter Ten

  A sense of unease settled on him as the door closed behind them.

  Was she in his mind right now? Did she find him amusing?

  God, she’d been hot. Naked, she had been quite the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he didn’t care if she knew that. His body ached for a release he wasn’t going to allow himself.

  She could read his fucking mind. It was beyond dangerous.

  He had to keep some sort of distance between them, see her only as a means to an end. She was his chance to finally finish what he had come back for all those years ago. Find the truth no one was willing to speak and then…

  He had no clue. He’d never thought beyond finding the truth.

  Maybe for someone like him, there was nothing else.

  He thought of Sadie. He doubted she’d had any more normal a life than he’d had. Perhaps less so. He was filled with a need to know about her. Would she tell him if he asked?

  Maybe he’d take her out to dinner, try and pretend they were normal for a while. But he had to contact his father first and deal with Fergus.

  “Do you have any clue what the fuck you’re doing?” Fergus growled as if on cue.

  Ethan snorted. Fergus was going to be a problem. He’d keep on at this until he got answers.

  The obvious thing to do was to tell him the truth. Or at least part of the truth. That he’d made a deal with Sadie because she was in a unique position to help him. Fergus was the one person in the whole world who knew Ethan’s real reason for coming back after Iraq. They’d shared a cell in that putrid prison. At that point, Ethan had suspected he was never getting out, that he would never know the truth, and so he’d shared his deepest thoughts with the other man. When the Conclave had arranged his rescue, he’d insisted that they take Fergus with them, earning himself a loyal friend for life. He’d trust Fergus with anything, but they hadn’t talked about his mother since. Would Fergus understand why he had to take this risk? Open himself up in this way?

  It would certainly make his life easier if Fergus knew about Sadie. It might put a stop to the constant questioning of his sanity.

  “You’re thinking with your dick, not your fucking brain,” Fergus said.

  Yeah, there was a bit of that. And it was a first. That was probably the problem. He was acting out of character.

  “I’ve never known you like this. What’s so goddamn special about this one?”

  Ethan’s lips twitched at that, and he realized that he wanted to tell Fergus, just so he’d see the other man’s expression. But he needed to get Sadie’s agreement first, and he wasn’t sure she would consent.

  He crossed the room, poured them both a glass of scotch, and handed one to Fergus, who regarded the drink as though it might be poison. Ethan took a seat on one of the sofas and stretched his legs out as he sipped the drink. He’d hardly had a moment to stop and think since Forrester’s death.

  Fergus eyed him for a second, then sighed and took a seat across from him.

  For five minutes, they were silent. Then Fergus put his empty glass down. “You’ll tell me if and when you can.” He sounded resigned. He was a nosy bastard, and while he’d worked with Ethan long enough to know the Conclave thrived on secrets, he wasn’t always happy about it. He stayed for Ethan.

  “I’ll tell you now, if Sadie agrees.” He grinned. “And it’s a good one.”

  “Who the hell’s in charge here?” Fergus grumbled.

  That was debatable. He wasn’t sure. While she might, in effect, be his prisoner, he suspected Sadie had the upper hand. But then, she was always going to be one step ahead of him.

  For now, she wanted something from him, and she’d work with him, but he didn’t trust her. And he had no clue as to the real extent of her powers. Could she be in contact with her friends even now?

  Were these hostages she was searching for even alive? He believed there was a good chance, but didn’t know for sure. And if they were, he had no clue where to look. He’d find out more when Travis arrived. By then, hopefully Sadie would be more willing to work with him, trust him.

  And while he couldn’t read her mind, he was quite aware she wanted him. It was something they were both going to have to deal with.

  “I’m in charge,” he said. “But she has…talents I need.”

  “She’s a goddamn hooker. What talents does she have? If you’re wanting a blow job, I can get you one with a hell of a lot less attitude.”

  He laughed at that, and Fergus cast him an odd glance. He hadn’t laughed much lately. If ever. His life had hardly been fun and games. He pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s go see what our little hooker has to say.” He opened the door to the outer office and looked around. For a second, he thought she’d somehow gotten out of the locked room, and his heart skipped a beat. Then his gaze found her, curled up on the sofa on her side. She wasn’t asleep but was watching them out of her…brown eyes. She’d put back the contacts, saying she preferred the look.

  She swung her feet down and sat up, running her fingers through her spiky hair. “Yes, boss?”

  “Can you come in, please, Ms. Brooks?”

  “Certainly, sir. Anything you say, sir.”

  She got to her feet. She’d taken off the jacket, and his gaze was drawn to where the thin silk of her shirt clung to her small breasts. Smoothing her skirt down, she strolled toward him. There was something of the predator in the way she moved, stalking her prey. He stepped aside to let her pass and then followed her into his
office.

  She stopped just inside the room, looking around, her eyes settling on the big leather chair behind his desk, then back at him, a small smile playing across her lips. Then she crossed to the desk, perched on the edge and surveyed them. Fergus had gotten up and come to stand beside him, as though he sensed some threat.

  Finally, she waved a hand at Fergus. “Tell him if you want to. I’ll leave it up to you to decide. You know your man. But I may have to kill him at a later date.”

  Fergus snorted. He clearly didn’t see her as a threat.

  Her smile broadened. Of course, she would know exactly what Fergus thought of her. Another drink was definitely required. Ethan had a feeling he was about to disrupt Fergus’s world.

  He grabbed the bottle of scotch and another glass, filled all three, and handed one to Fergus, then offered the other to Sadie.

  She took it, breathed in the scotch. “During working hours? This is my sort of job.”

  “So?” Fergus said. “You were going to tell me something.”

  He decided not to try and take it slowly. “Suzi is actually Sadie, and she’s telepathic. She’s offered to help me get some information in exchange for me finding the whereabouts of some people she knows.”

  He glanced at his friend’s face. His expression hadn’t changed.

  “I’d say it again,” Sadie said, downing her drink in one go. “Perhaps a little slower this time. And smaller words.”

  Fergus shook his head. “You’re saying she reads minds. You really believe that?”

  “He doesn’t believe you.” Sadie jumped down from the desk, went across, and refilled her glass. “Don’t worry, I won’t get drunk and unruly—I have a very fast metabolism.”

  “Really?” Fergus prompted. “I think she’s playing you.”

  Ethan turned to her and raised a brow. Actually, she was playing with them; it wasn’t as though it was a difficult thing to prove.