by I. T. Lucas
Either do it and own it, or don't.
Dropping the last article of clothing on the floor, Bridget climbed on the bed and snuggled up to him, her breasts soft against his chest.
He wrapped his arm around her. "You have an amazing body."
She smiled. "So do you. Not bad for an old man."
"I wish I were in better shape, so I could show you what this old man can do."
"You are in amazing shape, and you did and then some. No complaints here."
For some reason, her comment reminded him of Andrew, shooting a bolt of jealousy straight down to his gut. "Tell me about Spivak."
Bridget grimaced. "I don't want to talk about him. Can we drop the subject?"
"Do you still desire him?"
There was no hesitation. "No."
"Why not? You can't just turn off attraction. It was there before he found Nathalie, and I don't believe it could've magically evaporated."
Letting out a breath, Bridget turned to lie on her back. "When Andrew met Nathalie, I was visiting Julian and met someone as well. He just beat me to the dumping."
"Tell me about that other guy."
Bridget cast him a hard stare. "If you want me to tell you about every guy I’ve ever been with, I'll still be talking when the sun comes up the day after tomorrow. I'm an immortal female with a healthy appetite for sex. I'm also not into self-denial."
He'd pissed her off. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to do with this jealousy. It's not something I'm familiar with."
She turned sideways, propping herself on her elbow. "Nice move, smoothing the offense with flattery."
"It's the truth."
She narrowed her eyes. "Would you've liked it if I asked you about past lovers?"
"I told you about the only one I had—Douglas's mother. I don't think random hookups and paid escorts count as lovers."
"True. But my history is just as uninteresting as yours."
"What about Julian's father?"
"I think of him as a sperm donor. I don't know which one it was, but I'm grateful for the gift he gave me."
Talking about Julian seemed to put Bridget in a better mood, which provided Turner with the perfect opportunity to change the subject and get back to lovemaking.
"I would like to meet your son. He must be an extraordinary guy," he said.
Her face brightened. "He is. And I would like to meet yours as well."
"Let's see how things turn out first." He leaned forward and kissed her, gently nibbling on her lower lip and then licking inside her mouth. Following the exquisite curve of her body, his palm swept down her waist.
With a moan, Bridget closed her eyes and pressed her body against his. As her small hands gripped his ass cheeks, her fingers digging into his flesh, the strength of that grip bordered on painful. But instead of taming his arousal, her aggression fueled it.
His cock swelled against her groin, and if he were uninjured, he would have pulled her under him and entered what he knew was wet and hot and welcoming.
It didn't take much to get Bridget going. She was like a Ferrari, going from zero to sixty in under three seconds.
"I want you in me so badly that it hurts," she said.
That did it for him. He was going to give her what she needed even if it meant reopening his wound. After all, he was with a doctor who was perfectly capable of stitching him back up later, and if needed, performing resuscitation.
So yeah, there were other positions that could've been more accommodating to his injured back, but he was in the mood for an old-fashioned missionary.
With his arm still wrapped around her, he rolled on top of her and took her mouth.
Bridget made a sound of protest, but her grip on his ass didn't loosen, and the thrust of her tongue into his mouth wasn't gentle. Their passion for each other was too combustive for slow lovemaking. This was going to be a fast and furious fucking.
His back was on fire, but he didn't give a damn. It wasn't the first time he'd been injured and plowed through the pain to keep going, only this time it was about pleasure and not survival.
Except, the urgency of his need to get inside her and fill her up until she was overflowing with his essence felt as if his survival depended on it.
It was primal, and it was necessary.
"Guide me inside you," he said.
Bridget shook her head. "Not safe. I'll pleasure you orally."
She might have meant what she'd said, but her body was in disagreement with her mind, as evidenced by the restless churning of her hips, and the clawing grip of her fingers on his ass.
"If you don't do it, I will."
Her eyes sparkled with an evil gleam. "Then do it. Prove that you're well enough to fuck me."
"Challenge accepted."
Moving his shoulder to reach between their bodies was going to hurt like hell. Turner regretted not taking the painkillers. But that wasn't going to stop him. Not now. Greeting his teeth against the pain, he reached for his erection, palmed it, and guided it into Bridget's smoldering heat.
"Yes!" she gasped, parting her thighs wider and inviting a deeper penetration.
"Fuck," he groaned as he pushed all the way in. Motionless, he concentrated on the sensations bombarding every part of him. From the tight grip of her sheath to the heat radiating from her and suffusing him in healing warmth.
Dimly, Turner was aware that he wasn't thinking rationally. The pain had receded because of the endorphins, and not because of Bridget's magical healing capabilities, but for once he didn't care whether things made sense or not.
His hands on her hips, holding her down even though she had no intention of going anywhere, he started pumping. Slowly at first, he rolled his hips to give her the friction she wanted, but that didn't last long. As much as he would have loved to prolong the pleasure, spending hours torturing them both with a slow, erotic burn, his control wasn't strong enough.
With a curse, Turner let himself go.
Chapter 47: Kian
As Bridget entered his office, Kian observed the marked change in her.
Who would have thought that a cold bastard like Turner would be good for her?
Not that he was.
Not in the long run.
A fling with the human was okay, but by the glow on Bridget's face, it was much more than that.
She was setting herself up for a hell of a heartache. Even if the guy was relationship material, which he definitely wasn't, Turner was human and most likely would remain that way.
"How is Turner doing?" Kian asked as she took a seat at the conference table.
He'd given the guy a week to recuperate before summoning him for a meeting.
"He is good. He is training again."
"Training for what?"
She waved a hand. "Martial arts. He's been doing it for years."
"I didn't know that."
A smirk lifted one corner of her mouth. "You don't get a body like that by sitting behind the desk all day."
"I'll take your word for it."
Bridget's leveled her eyes at him. "Don't get all sanctimonious on me. You put us together."
Kian lifted his palm in a peace sign. "I never expected you getting involved. But I don't have to tell you why it's a bad idea. This is not going to end well."
With a sigh, she lowered her head. "I know. I'm pretending like there is no tomorrow and trying to enjoy the day."
Kian knew exactly how it felt. The despair, the hope against hope. Perhaps the Fates would deliver a miracle for Bridget as they had for him, but it was highly unlikely. In immortal terms Bridget was young, and her life had been good. She'd been blessed with a son, had a respected position on the council, and was liked and admired by everyone.
It seemed that the Fates favored those who had either sacrificed greatly for others or had suffered a major misfortune.
And it wasn't as if Turner was deserving of the Fates’ favoritism either. The guy was cold and ruthless. Except, Turner provided vital services and h
ad helped many. Carol was not the first and wouldn't be the last victim the guy had helped rescue.
Fuck. He was once again letting himself get sucked into believing in nonsense. The Fates were an illusion, a simple way to explain the inexplicable that was too tempting to resist.
"Good evening." Anandur sauntered into the office with Turner by his side. "Eva is on her way. She just stopped to chat with Nathalie for a moment."
"Take your seats." Kian pointed at the chairs next to Bridget.
As Turner walked over to the doctor and leaned to kiss her cheek, Kian had to stifle an incredulous snort. Seeing a rattlesnake cuddling with a kitten would've been less shocking than witnessing the guy exhibiting affection.
Turner put his briefcase on the table, opened it, and pulled out four packs of stapled pages. He glanced at Anandur. "I didn't know you would be joining us. I didn't bring one for you. But I can email you the presentation and you can read it on your phone."
Anandur slapped the shorter guy on the back. "That's okay. I'm here as an observer. If I want to take a look at it later, I'll run Kian's pack through the scanner."
"Very well." Turner started handing out the packs as Eva walked in.
"Did I keep you guys waiting?"
Kian pointed at the seat next to him. "You didn't. Turner is just getting started."
"Oh, good." She glanced at her watch. "For a moment I thought I was late."
"You're right on time."
"Shall we begin?" Turner asked.
"Please do."
After he'd given a brief overview of the project, Turner got down to business. "We need men to pose as buyers. But before I recruit operatives and start training them, I need to find someone to coach them. Someone who was part of the system and knows how it works."
Anandur crossed his arms over his chest and chuckled. "We could revive Alex. The scumbag sure knows a lot about the trade."
Kian raked his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back. "That is actually not a bad idea. The guy worked on the supply side of the business, but he should know all about the buyers as well."
"I was kidding." Anandur uncrossed his arms. "Alex is exactly where he should be."
Listening to the exchange, Turner frowned. "Revive? Did I hear you right?"
The guy already knew too much. Kian wasn't going to reveal more clan secrets for him to store away for when he needed to use them for his benefit. "It's a need to know, Turner. And you don't need to know."
The operative nodded. This was a language he understood and accepted.
Kian looked at Anandur. "Before we discuss whether we want to involve Alexander or not, we should question the Russians. Are you up for a trip to Hawaii?"
Anandur grinned from ear to ear. "Am I ever."
"So that's settled."
"Russians?" Turner asked. "Or is that also on the need to know list?"
For a moment, Kian debated how much he should tell Turner. On the one hand, he didn't want the guy to know too much, but on the other hand, as the brain behind the operation, it was best if Turner questioned the Russians directly and not through an emissary.
“Remember the rescue you helped us with in Mexico?”
“Of course. I assumed that incident was the catalyst for what we are attempting to do now.”
"Among other things. What I didn’t tell you was that the perpetrator was one of ours. The guy decided to use his special abilities for making quick money by kidnapping and selling girls. He trafficked them in his yacht, which was operated by an all-female Russian crew. The women weren't happy about what they were made part of, but they saw no way out until we provided them with one. I'm sure they would be more than willing to share everything they know."
"I can contact my snitches," Eva said. "Perhaps we can capture someone who is directly involved in the abductions and the coercions and interrogate the scum." The dangerous gleam in her eyes suggested the woman would've gladly volunteered for the job. Apparently, pregnancy hadn't mellowed her out. If anything, Eva looked all too eager for some action.
Turner shook his head. "I prefer you didn't. Snitches talk to you and many others. I want to keep this as tightly under wraps as I can." He turned to Anandur. "Tell me more about the Russians, and how well they can be trusted."
"They hate the trade and are grateful to us for giving them a new lease on life. They will do everything to help, and they are very good at keeping quiet. The question is whether we bring them here, or go to them?"
"I already told you. You go there," Kian said. "They have a business to run. I don't want to take too much of their time if I don't have to."
Anandur nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Though having one or two helping us out on a regular basis could be beneficial."
Kian narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure."
"I'm not saying this because I want to bang Lana. And another thing. I think we can use clan males to pose as buyers. If needed, they can thrall the sellers to give out more information."
Turner straightened in his chair. "That would be perfect." He looked at Kian. "If you are willing to risk your own people, that is."
"Most of our people have no training, and I can't afford to allocate Guardians to the mission. I need them to keep everyone here safe."
Bridget lifted her hand. "Leave that part to me. I have an idea."
"Let's hear it," Kian said.
She took in a deep breath. "I'm working with Turner on the presentation, and it's going to be powerful. I think I can get more of the retired Guardians to come back and take part in this."
Yeah, right.
"I managed to tempt only two by offering them an outrageous compensation package. What makes you think they are going to volunteer for this?"
"Because this will give them a sense of purpose, of righting a wrong. I might be overly optimistic, but I think they would love to sink their teeth into this. Naturally, they will have to be paid, but nothing extravagant, just a simple Guardian salary would do."
"That ship has sailed. I'm already paying everyone more."
Bridget grimaced. "I have another item on the agenda that will cost a bundle. We can buy the property in Ojai—the burned down monastery—and build a boarding school for the girls we rescue."
Kian loved the idea even if it was a costly one. "Perfect. Building a school for the rescued girls on the same spot the Doomers enslaved others for the same purpose is just precious."
"We will need teachers," Eva said.
Turner nodded. "Not just any teachers. We need women who are both compassionate and trustworthy." He looked at Eva. "As I said before, confidentiality is crucial to our success."
"I'll take care of the vetting," Eva offered.
Fuck. As much as Kian was all for it, he couldn't see how he was going to pull it off financially.
With a groan, he flipped through Turner's proposal. "It's going to cost a fortune. We will need to liquidate some major assets to finance all of this."
"Not necessarily," Eva said. "We need to talk to Brandon about arranging fundraisers. All those famous actors and actresses, producers and directors could donate significant money. We need to form a non-profit organization dedicated to the rehabilitation of rescued sex slaves. The contributors don't need to know about the other part of the operation."
Sounded good in theory. "First of all, I think you are overestimating the Hollywood crowd's generosity. Secondly, that's not where the big money is. You need Apple, Microsoft, and the like. But good luck convincing them to donate."
Eva smiled. "Self-entitled and elitist should be the middle names of the majority of that sparkly snowflake crowd, and the chairmen of big corporations will not be easy to approach. They would sooner contribute to saving the gleaming-white polar bears that don't need saving, than get their hands dirty helping rescue abused and exploited children at home and all over the world. But if the fundraisers are done right, they can be shamed into donating."
Chapter 48: Roni
As he stood in front of Kian's
office, Roni took a deep breath, trying to summon his courage to knock on the glass panel.
The guy was terrifying even though Roni was well aware that his fear was irrational. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Kian kicking him out for showing up without an appointment?
He lifted his hand to knock when Kian's gruff voice stopped him a moment before his knuckles made contact with the glass.
"Don't just stand there. Come in."
Fuck. He'd forgotten about the immortal's super hearing. Even after all this time in the keep, he was still thinking in human terms. Kian had probably heard him the moment he stepped out of the elevator. He might have even heard Roni breathing through the closed doors.
Or smelled him.
Sylvia had told him that fear emitted a particularly strong scent, spurring on aggression in immortals. As advanced as their species was, at their core they were predators.
The top of the top of the food chain.
The only reason they didn't rule the earth, other than from behind the scenes, was their only biological weakness—extremely low fertility.
Evidently God, or the Fates, or some other higher power had decided to even the odds by limiting the immortals' proliferation.
Roni had no doubt that humanity would have been long gone or enslaved if that wasn't the case.
"How can I help you?" Kian said as Roni pushed the door open.
Knowing how precious the guy's time was, Roni didn't bother with a polite preamble. "I want to go for another round."
"Are you up to twenty-five pushups?"
Roni shook his head. "Eight." He'd been tempted to say ten, but then reconsidered. What if Kian could smell lies? Besides, two more would not have made a difference.
Kian leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "That would do if Bridget approves."
"She would rather I waited a little longer and got a bit stronger, but she says it's safe for me to try again."
"What's the hurry?"
Roni sighed and sat down in the chair facing Kian's desk. "Other than my anxiety over whether I am a Dormant or not?"
