by Lexi Ryan
“How the fuck many of you are there?”
“Comment?”
His stomach dropped to his knees. Mallory.
He wasn’t sure which was more pathetic: that he was seeing variations of his old love every which way he turned or that he desperately wanted the woman on his couch to be his college sweetheart. He even thought she’d spoken French.
“Quinton?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. Hell, she even sounded like Mallory. He opened them again at the sound of movement. She was standing, pulling on a pair of low-heeled boots.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She flashed him a look—cold, yet naïve. This wasn’t the woman who’d been in his office today. Not either of them. “I didn’t exactly expect a ticker tape parade, but this is too much.” Then under her breath, she added, “I thought your mother taught you better.”
He licked his lips and realized he was still pointing his gun at her. He holstered it. “What do you know about my mother?” he asked softly as he took three long strides across the room.
Grabbing her left hand, he turned her palm up to study her wrist. And lost his breath at the sight of the S-shaped scar.
“Quinton?” she said softly. “Mon coeur, you okay?”
He didn’t answer her. Instead, he yanked her against him. He needed her too desperately to think of his own pride or of the questions he should have been asking.
“This more along the lines of what I’d hoped for,” she whispered against his lips.
He hovered there. Waiting for something. Waiting for the world to fall away, for time to collapse until nothing stood between them but a single heated breath.
And it happened just that quickly. It always had with Mal. He’d never loved a woman quite like he’d loved her.
“Why are you—?” he began.
“No,” she said, touching a finger to his lips. “Don’t.”
She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his mouth the rest of the way down to hers. He had the strength to stop her but lacked the will. And once their lips touched he was a goner.
She tasted like innocence and red wine. Or maybe those were only the flavors of his memories. But it all mixed together now—Mallory, then and now, his desire, then and now.
She moaned under him and tugged at his jeans. He took the hint. Never breaking their kiss, he worked his hands between their bodies, removing first his duty belt, then unbuttoning his jeans.
She slid a hand down his boxers before he could get any further.
Christ. She’d always been like that. Desperate to get her hands on him and terrified to let him touch her. “I can’t play your way anymore,” he warned. “Not after wanting you for four years.”
She stepped back and pulled her shirt over her head. “You think I came all this way because I want to play that old game?” She flashed a wicked smile, but some nobler part in the back of his mind also registered something else in her eyes. Not insecurity but—fear?
He hesitated.
She released her bra and let her breasts fall free.
A groan slipped from his lips. The female body as it should be: curvaceous, flush with excitement, and waiting at his fingertips. “So beautiful,” he whispered, reaching for her bare torso, needing to feel that smooth soft skin beneath his fingertips.
She reached for him and as he lowered to taste her again, her hands slipped into his jeans, pushing them from his hips. He felt them fall, heard the clunk of his wallet as it hit the floor. With a single step forward, his thigh was between her legs.
She whimpered against him, dug her hands into his hair, and pressed their bodies closer.
He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t taste enough of her. He pressed her against the wall, pulling her legs around his waist until her skirt was hiked around her hips and there was only boxer and lace between his cock and the slick, wet heat of her sex.
“I never should have left you,” he murmured in her ear. He trailed his open mouth down her next, kissing, sucking, tasting to the sweet rhythm of her staccato moans.
He drew his hand up her side and cupped her breast. When he found her nipple, she cried out, and he almost blew right there.
“Are you ready for me?” he asked, rocking against her hips.
She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist. “Hurry,” she whimpered.
He made quick work of releasing his cock from his boxers. Without a thought beyond how badly he needed to be inside her, he pulled her panties to the side and plunged into her.
Wet, hot, and Jesus, was she tight.
“You feel so good,” he groaned, moving in and out of her slowly as she adjusted to his size.
Her nails dug into his shoulder blades, and she let out a slow moan and relaxed against him. She trailed her mouth down his neck and bit lightly at his shoulder.
He moved faster, and her hips met his thrust for thrust.
“Come with me,” he demanded in her ear, finding her breast between their bodies and teasing the nipple there.
“I can’t—”
“You know you’ve wanted this as long as I have, baby.” God, he wasn’t going to make it much longer. “Take my cock deep in your pussy and come.”
She screamed and convulsed around his dick, pulling him to the finish with her.
***
Tara’s hands were still shaking when Collin came into Rider’s dark-paneled living room. He sat down next to her on the couch. “You need to forget what you saw.”
She turned and gaped. “You’re kidding, right? There was a dead man in my trunk.” She closed her eyes. “That’s not something I can just forget.”
The front door slammed. Rider came around the corner, wrinkling his nose. “You found him?” He shook his head. “Sorry about that. I needed somewhere to put him and your car was handy.”
Tara gaped. “Put him? Did you kill him?”
Rider frowned. “Of course not! What do I have against Aaron?”
“So it was him? It was Aaron, Paige’s assistant.”
“More to the point, Josie’s assistant,” Collin said.
Tara had seen him at the office talking with Josie just hours ago. She shook her head. “That can’t be Aaron. That guy in my trunk has been dead too long.”
Rider chuckled and shook her head. He turned to Collin. “She’s so cute.”
Collin scowled. “Naïve is a better word.”
Tara stood and propped her hands on her hips. “I am sick of being treated like a clueless child.”
Collin’s blue eyes burned into hers. “The Aaron you saw at the office isn’t the real Aaron.” He lowered his voice. “You’re not the only Shifter in this world.”
She frowned. “I thought you said we were rare?”
“Rare, yes, but you’re not the only one.”
She swallowed. “If the man at the office isn’t Aaron, then who is he?” If it wasn’t Aaron, who was Josie meeting with tonight before meeting the doctor? Tara had heard Josie making plans with “Aaron.” Who was he?
“That,” Rider said, “is the million-dollar question.”
***
Josie looked at the caller ID on her phone and put her hands over her face to keep herself from answering it. She’d been so tempted to call Tanner this afternoon and ask him to come with her tonight. It would have been so nice to have him by her side when she confronted the doctor.
She kept running the night they’d broken into the fertility clinic over and over in her head.
The man had seen Tanner, then turned her around and, despite the fact that she’d never seen him before in her life, he’d recognized her. Had her parents introduced her to him before they died?
She dropped her hands.
That was it. He’d seen Tanner. Tanner had been invisible, but when the old man came in the room, he’d been visible again. Josie had seen him too.
But Tanner had said he’d been in her apartment when Dr. Martin came to talk to her. If Tanner’s invisibil
ity had dropped because the man in the fertility clinic had been that strong of a blocker but hadn’t dropped in her apartment, maybe they weren’t the same man.
Which would she be meeting tonight? The doctor they’d seen in the lab or the one who came to her door? And which one was the real Dr. Martin?
The only way she knew to find out was to follow through with her meeting. A meeting Tanner wouldn’t want her to go to at all.
She wasn’t going to give up on finding answers when she was getting close. She needed to go, and she needed to do it without Tanner.
For the second time that day, she ignored the flashing light indicating she had a new voice mail message and crawled into bed. She’d had an exhausting week and needed to get a few hours of sleep before her meeting.
***
“I wonder when it will come,” Mallory whispered into the dark. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, and Quinton stirred beside her.
After they’d had sex in the living room, he’d wrapped his arms around her and moved to his bedroom, all without even pulling out of her. Now they lay side by side, hands intertwined between their bodies.
“When what will come?” He put her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.
She swallowed. After what she’d just shared with him, it seemed ridiculous that she should still be afraid to tell him about the world she’d been a part of her whole life.
But Specials were particular about non-Specials knowing their ways. France had an agency that worked primarily to keep the existence of Specials a secret. They worked hand in hand with agencies all over the world in favor of the same cause.
They erased memories, changed perceptions, even assassinated when they believed it was necessary. Exposing this world to a non-Special was always a risk.
She licked her lips. How could she begin? “I was raised believing I was a Special.”
“You are special,” he said, trailing a finger down her neck, then over the exposed skin between her breasts.
A shiver of pleasure rushed through her, and the already-sore muscles between her legs pulsed. She ignored the sensations. So many times she’d considered the implications of telling him about her world—how he would react, whether or not it would endanger him. She couldn’t both be with him and keep this secret from him, but she hadn’t a clue how to begin.
“There are people in this world who have special powers.”
His chest shook with a silent chuckle. “Yeah, and I’m Batman.”
She pushed herself up on one elbow and placed a hand on his chest. “Are you so cocky that you believe you know everything about the complex world we live in?”
“Fuck no, but...” She felt his chest collapse as his breath left him. “You really believe those old legends?”
She cocked her head. “What legends?”
“You know, ghost story legends kids tell at campouts. I assume you have the same kind of thing in France. Legends of people who can see the future or make you do something while you’re thinking it’s your choice. People with creepy skills: erasing memories, controlling elements. Stuff out of comic books.”
She blinked. Apparently she didn’t have as much to explain to him as she thought.
He ran a hand down her arm. “Why are you so upset about this?”
“What if I told you all those legends exist because they’re based in truth?”
“That people have special powers? I don’t believe that.” His voice was softer now, as if he feared his words might hurt her feelings.
“Your belief or disbelief doesn’t change the facts.”
“So you buy into all that?”
She adjusted herself so she was sitting. She couldn’t have this conversation lying down. Settling her back against her pillows, she leaned against the headboard. “I was raised by a man who dreamed the future. His best friend could fly—and no, I don’t mean airplanes.”
“You believed that?”
“Belief is for Santa Claus. You don’t believe a child can walk. You know he does when he toddles across the floor on nothing but his two feet.”
“What were you wondering about, then?” At her questioning look, he explained, “You said you wondered when it would come.”
“My father warned me since adolescence that terrible things would happen if I gave in to my ‘baser urges’ and had sex. He was never very specific. He just said I would hurt a lot of people, even if I didn’t want to.” She paused, trying to tell it honestly, fighting the urge to paint her father in a kinder light than he deserved. “I was terrified for a long time, but when I started learning more and more about Specials...” She trailed off, trying to define when things came together for her. “One day I found out Specials aren’t born with their powers. They’re born with the genetic predisposition for a power, but the power itself doesn’t manifest until they’re sexually active.”
“So teenage boys lose their virginity and get a superpower? Sounds like a dangerous combination.” His deep laughter filled the room and then stopped suddenly. “Wait, so you’re trying to say...”
“If I have an ability, it should manifest anytime now.” She sighed, then muttered, “only I won’t know what ability to look for.”
Quinton grabbed her arms and pulled her on top of him so she straddled his hips. “So you’re telling me you were a—” He cut himself off, as if the word might taste foul on his tongue.
“Of course I was a virgin, Quinton.” She stroked his cheek. “Why else would I have denied you all those years ago? I’m not joking when I say my father had me terrified of sex.”
He loosened his grip on her but still held on as if she might run away. “What changed your mind?”
“The more Specials I met, the clearer it became that not everyone uses their powers for good. And not all powers are innately good. Some are just...” How much could she tell him without making him fear her own kind?
He seemed to understand her hesitation. He dropped his hands to lace his fingers with hers.
“I knew a guy who could make people lose their minds. Literally. He somehow manipulated their frontal lobes and they became wild and uninhibited. Just crazy—and not in the American girls on spring break way either.
“I put two and two together and realized my father was just afraid of my power. He never talked about my birth parents, but maybe their powers were destructive.” She shrugged. “No father wants his daughter to have sex. Mine happened to have an excuse.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were...” He averted his eyes, favoring the ceiling. “I didn’t know that was your first time.”
“Would you have acted differently if you had known?”
“Yeah, I would have. I—”
She put a finger to his lips. “Then I’m glad you didn’t know.”
“So what do we do now?”
She wasn’t sure whether he meant about their relationship or her power or something else altogether, but she said, “We experiment.”
Chapter Fourteen
Josie was awakened by something brushing the inside of her wrist. Sleep hung over her and she struggled to open her eyes.
“Wiley?”
He was in her bed. Hovering over her, holding her hands above her head.
She blinked and looked at the clock. She had another hour before her alarm would go off so she could meet Dr. Martin. “What are you doing here?” But she knew why she wanted him to be here, what her body was demanding.
“Shh,” he said, studying her face.
Her hips lifted instinctively. Half asleep, nothing else mattered, nothing but feeling his mouth against her skin, feeling his cock slide inside her.
Cool metal slid against her wrist, then she heard the buzz and click of handcuffs sliding closed.
A jolt of equal parts concern and excitement shot through her. “Tanner, what are you doing?”
He grinned, and slipped a cuff around her other wrist.
She tugged at her hands, but she was cuffed to the bedpost. “You kinky
man.” She only cared about was how soon he could touch her. She could feel the slickness gathering between her legs. She’d been dreaming of him incessantly, and she was constantly aching for what she continued to deny herself.
He brushed fingers over the edge of her jaw, and she frowned. Something wasn’t right about his face.
“Your eyes,” she said, her breath catching. They were wrong. They were the same color, but there was a kindness in Tanner’s eyes. A vulnerability, like somehow his eyes carried his whole history in them. But not now. They weren’t—
His smile grew. The hard edges of his face softened and morphed.
“Oh, shit,” Josie said, as her doppelganger climbed off her.
“I just need you to stay here for a little bit,” he…she…it…whatever it was said to Josie in Josie’s voice. From Josie’s body.
“Mallory? Is that you?”
Her look-alike cocked her head. “Seriously, why do you keep calling me that? Who is Mallory?”
“Who are you?” Josie demanded. She wasn’t having any trouble waking up now.
The Shifter grinned. “I am just a figment of your imagination.” She pulled open the closet door and shuffled through the contents. “You really would have just let him cuff you to the bed that easily, huh? What ever happened to Girl Power and always maintain the upper hand?” She pulled a red dress from its hanger.
Josie glared. “That’s my favorite, bitch.”
The Shifter winked. “I know. It’s going to look so good on me.” She peeled off the black tee and jeans she’d worn as Tanner, then shimmied into the dress. “Don’t worry. We’ll send someone for you later.”
“Who’s we?” She yanked at the cuffs again and winced as pain shot down her arm. Josie tugged again, and her doppelganger chuckled.
“Sexy dreams,” she said before she sauntered out of the room.
***
Tanner punched the speed dial for Fernandez.
“Do you know what fucking time it is?” Fernandez growled.
