He didn’t respond as he studied her.
She was too quiet. Micah didn’t like the solemn darkness of her eyes or the flat, firm line of her pretty mouth. There was more than fear there. He wasn’t sure what it was and since he wasn’t able to see inside her mind, he wouldn’t know unless she decided to tell him.
Holding out his hand, he said, “Come on. I need to get a better lay of the land.”
As they left the sprawling cottage-style house, he studied everything around them.
Nerves on red alert, eyes so watchful he caught the white flash of a doe’s tail as she bounded back into the woods just beyond the side yard of Zoë’s property.
Her land was bordered on two sides by the Great Smoky Mountains National Park and the only way in and out was a long, winding snake of a road. He really wasn’t looking forward to the trip out. “How in the hell do you drive this road in the winter?” he asked irritably as they followed the stone trail around the house, the muscles in his legs working as they climbed up the steep hill.
With a shrug, she said, “You get used to it. I stockpile firewood in case the power goes out and keep plenty of nonperishables on hand.” Her eyes became distant. “I don’t like town much.”
That was understandable. Her gift was also a curse—out here, she didn’t have to shield against anything. Around people, though, that was a different story. She had to maintain her shielding constantly, otherwise she was assailed by the thoughts of others.
“Are others going to come out?” she asked, a frown turning the corners of her mouth down.
After a long moment, he said quietly, “No.”
She stilled in midstep, her head lowering as though she had suddenly a huge interest in the ground beneath her feet. He couldn’t miss the quivering in her voice as she said, “Nobody? It took a team of twenty men to corner him last time. Twenty fucking men. And what the hell good did it do? He wasn’t stopped…he went over that cliff instead of being taken down. And when they caught him, he broke out of their prison.”
“A lot of good, Zoë. He was off the streets, unable to hurt people for five years. That has to count for something. And it didn’t take twenty men…it took one woman. You. You were able to trap his mind and keep him from striking out at the others while they surrounded him.” Micah’s eyes continued to roam the perimeter of her yard, from the potted mums at the fence to the nearly empty garden bordering a storage building. “If we had ten men out there in the forest, would you know?”
He turned his head in time to see her roll her eyes. “Of course,” she said dryly.
Arching a brow at her, he waited. Finally, Zoë sighed and said, “If I could tell, so would he. So we just hang around here like sitting ducks?”
“Remember what you told me five years ago? You can feel others just by sensing their thought patterns. Some are louder and more vivid than others—Morraine’s was one of them. And that’s how he knew you were there.”
“Psychics have a more powerful feel to their thoughts,” she murmured softly, her lids lowering, a thoughtful frown on her face. “I’ll drown your thought pattern out. He’ll feel you, but probably not until he either sees you, or is very, very close. Unless he oes that, all he will see and feel is me.”
“Exactly. But the more people we bring on to this mountain, the more likely it is he’ll know we expect him. One person is easier to hide than ten.”
And if something primitive inside him was outraged by the thought, he’d just have to deal with it. Zoë was in danger—had been since Morraine escaped a month earlier.
And until he was caught, she would be. Micah intended on catching him very soon.
A soft voice behind him asked, “Why you?”
“Why me what?” he asked, distracted, the memories of the Morraine’s past victims drifting through his mind.
“Why are you the one who gets to play bodyguard?” she asked.
Shoving the morbid details of Kyle’s work out of his mind, he looked back at her with serious eyes. “Because I demanded it be me. After the welcome you gave the last few people, they knew you wouldn’t so much as talk to anybody you didn’t know, that I had the best chance of at least getting inside the door without you breaking my face, although I’m still kind of surprised you didn’t. So I told them I’d come up and talk to you, but that I’d also be the one staying with you.”
Those deep brown eyes widened and her pretty rosebud mouth pursed.
“Okay…why you?” she repeated. “I mean, why insist it be you?”
Leveling a steady stare at her, he said simply, “Because I’m the only person I trust enough with your life. Besides, they have ideas that they could maybe try to chemically subdue him, recapture him. And I’m sure they learned something from their mistakes this last time. But I want him dead.”
“Chemically subdue?” Dryly, she said, “Why do I get the feeling you were told not to kill him unless that was the only option.”
He grinned at her. “Because I was.”
She laughed but there was little amusement in the sound. “Chemically subdue. For crying out loud. They still don’t understand what they are dealing with, do they?”
Micah shrugged. “It’s the way we work, FBI, CIA, any government law enforcement agency—if we don’t understand, then we study until we do. But in cases like this…no. You don’t try to understand. How can you hope to imprison a man who can take over your mind? Who can read your mind?”
Zoë didn’t answer. They both knew the answer to that. No prison would be enough to hold Morraine forever. Sooner or later, he would get free.
Chapter Two
She didn’t like the thought that when Morraine came, there would be nothing between them. But she wasn’t especially fond of just having more targets for him either.
He could take over a person’s mind and use their body like a puppet. All too deadly.
Yet she knew that this agency, whoever they were, was just like any other and they wouldn’t operate on just the chance that he’d come close, risking that either Zoë or Micah would end up dead with him.
It took a while to figure out that was why the plan seemed faulty, but by nightfall, she had come to her own conclusions and she was pretty certain they were right.
Somebody wanted her to kill Morraine. That was the only reason to leave her and Micah alone on this mountain, with no backup…with nobody to keep her from doing from she had wanted to do five years ago.
Cold, she shifted a little closer to the fire, staring into the dancing flames and brooding.
This was insane.
“Why am I doing this?” she muttered, shaking her head. Swallowing, she tried to block out all the ugly possibilities that lingered in her future.
“What?”
Glancing over her shoulder, she glanced at Micah and just shook her head.
“Nothing,” she murmured, rising to her feet and stretching her arms high overhead.
“You going to be awake for a while?”
“Yes,” he murmured, his lids low, eyes glittering as he watched her.
“I think I’m going to go to bed,” she murmured, turning her eyes back to the dancing flames for a minute. “You need anything before I turn in?”
Want…NEED…That was the only warning she had to brace herself before he caught her up against him, his mouth slanting over hers. Zoë’s mind exploded into a kaleidoscope of color, thought and taste.
His was wild, hot and so very male and it flooded her senses, while his thoughts flowed through her mind, a chaotic river of words, pictures and colors.
Against her breast, she felt his heart slamming within his chest, beating in tandem with her own. One hand cupped over the back of her neck, while his other down her side, gripping her hip.
Heat, glorious heat, like she hadn’t felt in years, burst through her. Rising up on her toes, she twined her fingers through his hair, the black silk of it falling through her fingers. A hot, empty hole settled in her belly, a hollow ache that throbbed w
ith every breath she took.
His teeth scraped over her lip—her knees buckled as he sucked the plump flesh into his mouth and bit down just a little harder. “Sweet,” he muttered, as he shifted his grip from her neck to her hair.
His thoughts battered at her, hard and powerful, overwhelming…too long, still so soft…
His hand fisted in her hair and Zoë cried out at he arched her neck back, raking his teeth over her throat. She felt his hand, fingers spread wide, coming up her side in one slow, firm stroke, raising the sturdy cotton on her shirt as he went.
Cool air kissed the skin of her torso and she whimpered as his hand cupped her breast, stroking a thumb over the tight bud of her nipple. Each stroke from his hand resonating in her belly, in her pussy, across her clit, almost as erotic as though he had slid his hand inside her panties and began to stroke her already aching clit.
The room spun around her in dizzying circles as he wheeled them around, and then she felt the couch at her back. As he came down on her, she brought her knees up, cradling his hips between her thighs. Damn it. She could feel him, like she hadn’t felt in years, hot, thick, pumping against the notch between her thighs.
Zoë gasped for air as his hands worked beneath her, gripping the hem of her shirt.
She arched up, letting him pull it over her head. A soft sob echoed through the air as he caught the diamond-hard crest of her nipple in his mouth, sucking on it, pressing it against the roof of his mouth, working her flesh through the thin silk of her bra.
His hand cupped her and she felt the heat of his flesh through the sturdy material of her jeans. Whimpering, she rubbed the mound of her pussy against him, hungry to feel him inside her again.
As he moved to torment her other breast, Zoë dipped her hands into his hair and held him against her. The heat…her head swam from the heat, the rush of pleasure that scorched her.
Then she was cold—
And he was on the other side of the room, dragging a hand through his hair as he turned to stare out the window.
“Damn it. I’m sorry.”
He wasn’t—not really. She could feel that, even though he had tried to close himself off from her. The only thing he was sorry for was that he had felt the need to stop.
With a slight smile, she had to admit to herself that she agreed with him.
The house was silent as he paced it one final time before settling down.
He didn’t like this. At all.
Even with Zoë’s rather amazing talents, they were too vulnerable here. Too much could go wrong.
Micah knew that too many people here would tip Morraine off. But, damn it, two people…against a monster like Kyle Morraine.
Moving to the window, he stared outside, unable to see anything beyond the square of light that fell through the window. “God, let me keep her safe,” he whispered, his head dropping forward to rest on the cool pane of glass. “Please let me keep her safe.”
The short harsh cry that echoed through the air froze his heart in his chest and he turned and ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time. Drawing his gun, he rounded the corner at a dead run, throwing caution to the wind as she screamed again.
Sliding the gun back into the holster, he dropped onto the bed. Catching her shoulders, he shook her a little. A nightmare. Just a nightmare. She’d had them for weeks while they tracked Morraine last time.
“Wake up, Zoë,” he whispered against her brow, pulling her into his arms, hugging her against him as he stroked one hand down her back. Through the thin cotton of the chemise she wore, he felt the delicate line of her spine, heard her soft, shaky breathing as she fought her way into wakefulness.
The soft, helpless sobs in her throat broke his heart. A sense of helplessness rode heavy on his shoulders as he rubbed his hand soothingly over the fragile line of her spine. “It’s okay, baby,” he crooned against her temple. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
“I can’t breathe… Micah, I can’t breathe,” she sobbed.
Pulling back, he cupped her face in his hands, staring down into her terror-glazed eyes. “Yes, you can,” he said firmly. “You can breathe, Zoë. He’s not here. He can’t touch you.”
“He’s already touching me. He’s always touching me.” She closed her fingers around his wrists, staring up at him helplessly. “He is here. He’s in my head. I hear his voice all the time, feel that blood he shed all over me. I can’t see beyond him. Micah, he’s everywhere. I feel him inside me.”
No. Sheer fury boiled inside him at the thought, a rage unlike anything he had felt in a very long time. “No. He’s not here. He’s nowhere. Nothing,” he rasped as he tumbled her down on the bed, covering her mouth gently.
“He can’t touch you,” he muttered against her lips, determined to blot out any sign or trace of him.
“He is. He’s—”
He caught her hands and pressed them to his cheeks. “Look at me. Feel me. See me.”
He kissed her once, twice, desperate.
Finally, the blank terror seemed to leave her eyes and her mouth softened under his. “He’s not here. I am. You are. We are.”
“We are,” she whispered, pushing her hands into his hair.
The scent and taste flood his senses as surely as he knew his were flooding hers.
Catching her lower lip between his teeth, Micah bit down gently. His hands slid up to cup her breasts and he felt the rapid beat of her heart. “Who do you see?” he whispered, moving his mouth down to bite the sensitive area of her neck, scraping his teeth along it and feeling her shudder exactly as she had five years before. “Who do you feel?”
A soft whimper escaped her and she murmured, “You. Just you.”
The terror she had felt only moments before fled under the touch of Micah’s hands.
Nobody had ever made her feel the way he did. Just the simplest touch of his mouth to hers had her pussy aching and wet, her body clamoring for the touch of his. “Damn it, Micah, how can you do this to me?”
“The same way you do it to me.” He moved lower, catching one nipple in his mouth. She arched up against him as he murmured, “We belong together, Zoë. I won’t leave—you can’t chase me away this time.”
As his tongue slid around the underside of her breast, any response she might have had faded away. Against her belly, she felt the hard, pulsating throb of his cock.
Zoe wasn’t going to fight him anymore. Not tonight at least, not about this. Burying her fingers in his hair, she held him tight against her.
“Your taste,” he muttered. “Damn it, I can’t believe I went five years without it.”
She shivered at the sheer hunger she heard in his voice. “Micah, please…I need to feel you inside me. Make me forget how empty I’ve been.”
His hands stripped her panties down her legs, sliding back up to cup her ass, tilting her hips up and rocking against the slick notch between her legs. The rough material of his jeans abraded her sensitive flesh and she shivered at the near painful friction. Zoë’s breath stopped in her chest as he shifted and cupped her in his hand, pushing one long finger inside her, pumping it in and out, ready her before he finally settled between her thighs.
Zoë felt the head of his cock nudging against her entrance and she tipped her hips up eagerly, greedy lust dancing through her veins. Reaching up, she gripped her shoulders as he pushed inside. His eyes closed, teeth gritted. She whimpered under the onslaught of physical sensations, the mind-blowing emotions that rocked her as she felt the echoes of his hunger.
He pulled back and she whimpered as he nearly left her before pushing back in.
Arching her back, Zoë tried to lift her hips and pull him deeper.
“What do you feel? Who is inside you?” he murmured.
“You.” As he started to shaft her with short, hard strokes, she moaned, “Just you.”
His head swooped down and she greedily opened her mouth under his, sucking his tongue into her mouth and biting down, smiling against his lips as his big body b
ucked over hers and he slammed into her.
Zoë jumped at the caress, her eyes flying wide. Her nipples, tight and hard as diamonds, stabbed into his chest. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she worked her hips against the thick stalk. He moved higher on her body—Zoë screamed as the slight shift of position had his body stroking against her clit with every thrust of his hips.
Climax lingered just out of reach and she could all but feel it humming through her body. She groaned in frustration when he abruptly pulled out and flipped her over, pushing her onto her hands and knees, but then he was inside her again, moving harder and faster.
He muttered her name, all pretext gone and she thought her very skin might burn up as the orgasm threatened to blister out of control.
With a snarl, he stiffened behind her and went rigid, just as she started to come.
His hands gripped her, so tight it almost hurt and he bucked against her, pumping once, twice, three times—and the third time pushed her completely over.
As he collapsed against her, he rolled to his side, pulling her against him and cuddling her. Zoë felt the harsh rhythm of his heart slamming against her back.
Wrapped in his arms, she felt all the loneliness of the past five years just drift away, felt all the terror-stricken dreams fading into the night. Her entire soul, for once, was at peace.
Micah awoke with a hard-on. His dick was nestled against her backside and as he lay there, debating on getting up to make her breakfast or make love to her, she shifted and rolled forward, sprawled facedown. He sat up and stared at her, watching as she shifted a little more, drawing up one knee while burying her face against the pillow.
His heart clenched, started to ache even more.
She was exhausted.
And he needed to think.
Slowly, he slid out of bed.
Chapter Three
Avalon Page 11
