Danger Mine: A Base Branch Novel

by Megan Mitcham

  Wetness coated his mouth. His head hovered inches from the junction of her thighs. A deep groove ran the length of his spine, hard earned muscles forming a trench. Banded brawn wrapped the slopes of his naked ass. The sight assaulted her restraint.

  “King,” she said.

  When he raised his eyes all the things she wanted to say stayed glued to her tongue. I think I love you. You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met. If I wake tomorrow and you’re gone, I’ll treasure you forever and the gifts you’ve given me. She settled for, “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet.” His chuckle vibrated her lips. He speared his tongue and lashed her clit, grinding his mouth against the whole of her sex.

  Sharp pain tingled her scalp and she realized her grip threatened to yank the hair from her head. “Yes, King. Please, yes.” She pumped against him.

  The orgasm swamped her. Every muscle in her honed body quivered with pure delight. Her head tossed back and her toes pointed toward the sky.

  Mother fucking tears collected in her eyes, turning her into the vulnerable, weeping sap she’d always feared a man would transform her into. And at the same time she felt stronger than she ever had. Blasting bad guys in the head, throwing herself into the middle of a firefight, or dancing with blades, none of it compared to the bravery it took for her to face down her greatest fear and come through the other side whole.

  Still she felt the immediate need to re-establish herself. “On your ass, King. Hands by your side.”

  “Yes, troop.” His tongue skated across his lips, licking her cream into his mouth. Slowly, deliberately showing off the body that made her forget herself, he sat and leaned back on both hands. The lines of his abdomen contracted, punctuating the sleekness of his hefty build. The notch of steel corded at his hips, made the perfect handle for her leg to cling to.

  The tears receded, overrun by carnal lust. “Yes, indeed.” Her orgasm coated the inside of her thighs. She shoved the sleeping bag over her knees and wiggled out of its confines, abrading her intimate flesh in the process. It rekindled a fire that never banked…and likely never would.

  Pre-cum beaded at the slit of his plump crown. She placed her index finger atop the clear liquid and speared it over the smoothness of his head. As she had before, she licked the excess from the pad of her finger. Her mouth watered. The need to choke him deep had her humming, but the unabated throb between deep inside her cunt commanded attention.

  Khani straddled his lap as she had too damn long ago. This time things were so very different. King wasn’t restrained and neither was she. She wrapped her arms around his neck—like she’d wanted to do before.

  His steady gaze centered hers. One torturous inch at a time, Khani lowered herself onto his cock. The pressure of his broad width compounded. She sank lower, enjoying the swell of his head as it bombarded her body. Knees spread wide, she exhaled and invited him farther inside. The map work of veins strapping his dick worked like a ribbed dildo, strumming her from the core out.

  “Put your hands on me,” she ordered.

  As though he’d been waiting for the words, as though he’d known they were coming, his hands molded against her lower back and worked them up. The move pulled her impossibly closer. Their noses brushed. Their breaths mingled. Their gazes wed. She seated him fully and they stilled there, unmoving, for a heap of heartbeats.

  Then his hands moved. Those big fingers sank into her bottom. She lifted off him to the tip, and then plunged hard. Her gasp ricocheted off the fabric and collided with his bark of pleasure. Again she pounded their bodies together. And again. Each time King’s arms powered the effort a little more, until soon they shared the responsibility of their pleasure.

  She’d never shared any part of the duty. She’d never trusted a person enough to want to try. Not until King.

  Khani hugged him impossibly close with her arms, with her core.

  He shouted a curse that rang like music in her ears. His deft hands tilted her hips, opening them and her clit to the firm ridge of his pelvis.

  Pleasure rippled through her. Her hold doubled. Her breaths grew shallow. “Fuck me. Fuck me.”

  “I’m loving you,” he strangled. “I’m loving you.” His jaw clenched another curse. “Are you still on birth control?”

  “Yes,” she moaned as much in overwhelming bliss as in answer. “Come with me, King. Come.”

  His head arched to the unseen stars. He did as she demanded, pulsing his heated orgasm into her womb. Another first. One that—as much as it terrified her—compounded her release.

  Her heart stampeded through her chest as though it might crash right through her chest. King tucked his head against her roaring heart and panted. Sweat slicked their bodies, sealing them together.

  For how long? Khani didn’t know, but she hoped for a longer time than she’d ever imagined sharing with another human being…even Zeke.

  King collapsed back onto his yawning sleeping bag, tugging her with him, seemingly as content to maintain the bond they formed. He pulled her sleeping bag over their bodies and held her atop his chest.

  17

  An alarm trilled through his dream, shattering the glass walls. Shards rained around him, pinging off the ground and bouncing back toward his face. Street’s eyes popped open at the same time as Khani’s murky greys. For a stunned second they stared at one another.

  Touch by exquisite touch the dream—his reality—dripped back into his conscious mind.

  Khani buried her face under his neck. Even when she’d been vulnerable she’d never been embarrassed. “What is it?” he whispered.

  “I don't want to get up. I don't want to leave this tent. I don’t want to face the day.” Her arms coiled around him. “Because now I have something else I don’t want to lose.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, except down on you and inside of you the next chance I get. The only way I’m leaving is if you make me.”

  She smiled, but it held more than a hint of sadness. “I might make you.” Her head shook. “I’m not good at relationships. I’ve never been in one and I’m not sure I won’t fuck it up.”

  “And I’m sure no matter how much you push me away, I’ll always belong to you.”

  Khani crawled up his body and laid one on him. He starched at first contact. Too soon she rolled off him. Her grin beamed in the dim room. “Saddle up, cowboy.”

  “Is that a euphemism for…you want to bone again?”

  She giggled. “No. It’s American for get ready, we’ve gotta go.”

  “Damn.” He winked and groped for his pack, ready to pull on some clothes now that the sleeping bag and her sweet warmth didn’t drape his body. “How about we steer clear of washouts today?”

  “And bears,” she said through the knit of her sweater. Mussed black hair sprang from the head hole. “And wolves.”

  “Wolves? Who cares about them? They’re like large dogs.”

  She popped out of the top of the sweater, her eyebrows cranked high. “You obviously didn’t see The Grey.”

  A full-out belly laugh cramped his sides.

  “Oh, when we get back we’re watching it.” Her nose scrunched. “I’m making you watch it. I have no desire to see it again. Especially after this trip.”

  “I take it it’s less Dances with Wolves and more Cujo?”

  “Um, yeah.” Her hair bobbed.

  “So, we’re going after bad guys with guns, but avoiding cute teddy bear and fluffy pups.” He tugged his shirt over his head, hiding his head as she rolled her eyes. “Got it.”

  “I’m going to get it,” she threatened.

  “Promise?”

  “Hell yes, but not right now.” She shoved her socked feet into her boots and opened the tent’s zipper. “I’ll see you outside in two. I have to pee.”

  He couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off his mouth. Khani rolled her eyes and groaned for effect, and then crawled out of their hideaway. Street finished dressing, packed their bags, rolled the shelter, and stuffed it
into his ruck by the time she returned.

  Khani plopped onto the ground in front of him and laced her boots. “Why the smirk?”

  “You’re kidding me right?” He swung the pack onto his shoulders. “I’ve been dreaming about getting my hands on you for more than a year.”

  Smile lines bracketed her mouth. “This is crazy.”

  “What exactly.”

  Her lips pursed. “My brother’s being tortured, if he’s not already dead, and I’m here making googley eyes at you.”

  “On your way to save him. Stop guilting yourself.”

  She recoiled as though he’d ripped one. “Easy for you to say. No one’s ever been dependent on you for every little thing. We left home when Z was twelve, but for as long as I can remember I’m the only one who made sure he was fed, bathed, and got enough sleep every night. If I didn’t fix us something to eat, we didn’t eat.”

  “He’s a grown man, troop. You did a job you shouldn’t have had to do. You did it well. But you don’t have to shoulder him anymore.”

  “Oh,” she tossed her hands. “So, I should just leave him in the hands of the Russian mob?”

  “That’s not what I said and you know it.” Street hefted her pack. He crossed to her. Leaves and small sticks crackled under his boots. He extended his hand as a peace offering. “Don’t pick a fight with me because you’re feeling exposed. Last night was the best night of my life. It’s okay if you feel the same. It’s okay if you don’t. I don’t expect you to drop your weapons and birth our very own liability.”

  Khani’s cool fingers wrapped around his hand. She stood without much help from him. “When I don’t know what to do with myself I get prickly. Bitchy.” She stared off several seconds before meeting his gaze again. “You deserve better than me.”

  He smoothed a kiss over her dry lips. “We deserve each other.” King believed that with his whole heart. He’d never been able to share himself with anyone. Khani shared a similar background. They’d both developed ways to cope with the insanity. Their unique survival mechanisms complimented one another. If only he could get her to see that.

  She didn't respond to his comment. Her hand slipped from his and onto her ruck. “I need to run. You up for it?”

  “I’ve been chasing your tail for thousands of miles. What’s four more—uphill—with fifty pounds on my back?” His gaze double checked their heading on his watched. “After you, my lady.”

  Pounding up the side of the mountain they no longer needed the rope tethered between them. Every strike of their boots met with solid rock the color of Khani’s eyes. The trees—their cover—thinned, leaving them both exposed. Street found himself feeling prickly.

  They fell into a rhythm they’d found last night. The balls of their boots marched higher and higher, but their pace remained even. Purpose propelled them. Pine flavored the thin air. Sweat added another layer to the bouquet.

  A snap to their right stopped them both mid-stride. Street crouched. Khani drew her weapon. Their chests fluctuated, but not a sound whispered through their lips. Another crack echoed through the green ferns and needles. Not a gun shot. Those popped more than cracked. This sounded as though a giant pared limbs from a tree to make his toothpick.

  Street’s gaze pivoted across the slanted ground. Khani’s lids gaped as wide as headlights, searching for the threat. They were still a mile from the cabin. This was a little far out to have a lookout, but stranger things had happened. He should’ve thought about that sooner. He’d been about to call time on her sprinted run. No way would he barrel into the unknown without a plan.

  “There,” Khani barely breathed.

  He followed her gaze fifty yards down the mountain. The green top of an aspen rocked slowly. The sight was nothing unusual of the side of a windy slope, except when he looked at all the trees around it. They stood soldier straight in the still air.

  The hairs on his nape prickled. Only one thing was big enough to move a tree that large and he didn’t want to meet it.

  “Run.” If it were possible, he hollered the whisper.

  His nerves took off before he did, careening dangerously over his veins. Khani stood, her feet seemingly solidified into the side of the earth. He’d never thought fear capable of paralyzing her, but the evidence blocking their escape proved him wrong.

  “We’re not supposed to run.” She whispered the words while keeping her gaze trained on the spot in the distance.

  “Then walk, quickly,” he prodded.

  The hand straining the metal of her pistol shook. “We’re supposed to confront it. Stand our ground.”

  “Piss the ground more like. It’s far enough away we can exit the stage with no one the wiser.” He put his hands on her shoulder and hip and nudged her forward.

  “Don’t move.” She commanded.

  His daft body complied. He held perfectly still.

  “He’s coming to say, ‘Hi.’” Khani squeaked.

  Street slid his gaze to the side and saw a wall of brown charging. How the mother-fuck had he cleared the distance that fast?

  “Stand beside me, make yourself as big as possible, don’t hold his gaze, and don’t move.”

  Every instinct inside Street’s body roared to life. Every one of them told him to run. His training told him to grab his gun and aim between the two amber eyes boring down on him. Khani told him to hold his ground.

  Dumb as it might be, he listened to her. He stood to every millimeter of his six feet six inches. He spread his convulsing chest like a roided-up gym-rat. He took one step forward, placing himself a foot in front of Khani. He dropped his gaze to the ground. Each ferocious scrape of the grizzly’s massive paws and blade-sharp claws mauled the earth. And he prayed Khani’s firing hand steadied.

  The rock shook beneath his feet. The air crackled with tension. The bear closed in on them. Fifteen yards. Stride. Ten. Stride.

  Street’s muscles contracted, bracing for certain impact. A blow sure enough to shatter every bone in his body.

  The beast slammed on the breaks. Its front feet skidded on the slate. Shoulders as wide as Street’s torso rolled, pressing into the rock. The bear’s snout flared, black and shining in the morning light. It huffed their scent. Rows and fucking rows of pointed teeth stood on display ten feet away. A clamor blatant and guttural erupted from its cavernous mouth.

  “You don’t want to eat us, do you?” Khani spoke in an even tone, stunning the shit out of him, the shit that hadn’t already incinerated inside his gut. “You just want us out of your territory and we’re happy to go, just walk away.”

  Five-inch razor blades attached to its paws gouged the ground. Rocks broke from the ground and flew. They skittered to the side, pinging down the grade.

  “Don’t make me shoot you, bear. It’ll alert Zeke’s captors and give away our position.”

  “Will a shot kill it or just make it angry…er?”

  “One way to know. What’s it gonna be, bear?” Khani asked in the same droll tone.

  “If we lose the element of surprise, they’ll kill Zeke before we get there.”

  “I know,” she said with a hint of agitation.

  The bear responded with another scallop of the ground.

  He had no desire to kill the bear. It was brutish and majestic. At the same time he’d choose himself over the animal any day of the week, and he’d choose Khani ten times on Sunday.

  Street lifted his gaze, centering his cross hairs on the grizzly’s yellow one. The creature’s eyes conveyed intelligence, even more than some people possessed. It pinned its ears back and chuffed a warning. Street filled his lungs. The pungent odor of free-range fur burned his nostrils.

  As a kid, he’d learned to center a dart from the far side of Bryan’s Pub. He’d made the old man a ton of money. Unwitting patrons bet against Street every time. Every time they’d choke up their change to Bryan. In turn the bloke fed him dinner most nights of the week.

  Street yanked his ice pick from his ruck with his left hand. With
his right he jerked his fixed blade from the scabbard on his thigh. He unleashed the oxygen he held in a bellow that stripped the lining from his throat.

  He jacked the axe high. On a lunge he hurled it. The handle scraped the tips of his fingers, and then sailed through the air. It sank into the bear’s mussy pelt. The skin on its shoulder peeled open.

  The bear shied. Sunlight filtered through the trees glinting off the visible point of the double picked steel. The other sharp end sank deep inside the beast’s shoulder.

  Street filled his lungs. He shouted and lunged again, his knife ready.

  Those massive claws shuffled, conceding two steps. Then another. The mammoth’s head reared. Its long snout bit at its injured shoulder.

  Street lifted his arms, making himself larger. He snarled and ate the space the grizzly relinquished. Now that the bear walked away from him—now that pictures of mauled flesh didn’t corrupt his brain—he noticed the animal’s back only reached his belly button. The imposing creature was young, maybe a few years old. If it had been a full-grown bear they would’ve been fucked.

  He followed the grizzly’s lazy retreat a football field or more down the grade. Slowly he allowed the gap to grow between them. Thirty yards away the brute leaned its injured side into a tree and scraped its shoulder across the bark. Street’s axe clanked to the ground. The beast lumbered off toward the creek where he and Khani had cleaned up the previous night.

  Damn. If they’d run into that thing without weapons… He shook his head and watched the animal until it was little more than a speck on the horizon. Feeling certain they could continue on without worrying about that particular bear sniffing up their asses again, Street turn and headed back toward where he’d left Khani.

  The things he knew about grizzly bears fit in half the scabbard where he placed his knife, but he knew predators. Most adhered to the one per territory rule. He hoped it was the same for bears. Adrenaline zapped, the climb took longer than it had the first time.

  Sweat soaked his under-layer. A U-shape darkened the forearm of his sleeve where he’d swiped the perspiration from his brow. Luckily, the sun burned brightly and the temperature had risen into the forties, which meant he wouldn’t die of hypothermia.