The Lost (Sin Hunters)

by Piñeiro, Caridad

  A flash of a grin skimmed over his lips, hinting at his restraint. She raised herself on the balls of her feet, closing the final inch between them, and kissed him. Whispered against his lips, “I won’t break.”

  “It’s the power. I need to control it,” he said, almost as if he and the power were two separate entities.

  She recalled the many times he had touched her and the desire that had risen up along with the sharing of his energy. The way he had allowed emotion to release the power earlier that night when they were in danger. Somehow she knew the answer to mastering his abilities wasn’t about the rigid control he had been forcing upon himself.

  “Just go with the flow,” she urged against his lips, almost amused by how appropriate those words were for him.

  He chuckled lightly, as if recognizing it as well.

  Against her came the release of his tension and something else, a stronger hum of energy, which escaped from him and washed over her, through her, bringing a sense of union she had not ever experienced before.

  “Your aura’s purple,” he said as he caressed her breast and slipped his other hand down to the swell of her ass, urging her hips tight to his.

  “Is that a good thing?” she questioned as she brought her hands to the waistband of his pants and slowly inched them downward to reveal his magnificent erection. She released the pants, and they skimmed past his lean hips and down his legs. He impatiently kicked them away.

  “Very good,” he answered, and then groaned as she surrounded him with her hand, stroked it up and down the length of him, the jerk of his erection beneath her palm bringing an almost painful pulse between her legs. Her touch elicited a very obvious response in his energy as his aura darkened to the purple he had mentioned earlier and spilled onto her hand. Between her legs, the throb became even more intense as his vitality surged through her, drenching her sex.

  He must have sensed her need. He brought his hand around and parted her thighs, eased past the cotton of her underwear, and skipped his fingers along the moist length of her. He bent his head to the crook of her neck, where he dropped a line of kisses before taking a gentle bite.

  She held his head to her, savoring the press of his mouth. The stroke of his fingers caressed her, building her passion until her body was trembling against his and beneath her hand came the jump of his erection and a slight hint of damp at its tip. She rubbed the moisture all along the head of his penis and he moaned.

  “Adam. I can’t wait much more.”

  Adam couldn’t wait either, feeling like a schoolboy on his first fumbling date. Bobbie awoke sentiments he had never experienced with another woman. Emotion. Real emotion, and because of that, he wouldn’t delay a second longer, but he wouldn’t rush it either.

  Bending, he swept her up in his arms and, turning, laid her on his bed. Her caramel-colored hair was a dark spill against the celestial blue of his sheets, the white of his T-shirt glaring, but he knew she wasn’t ready to shed that garment yet. The wounds were still healing, physically and mentally. It might take a while before she was able to reveal that much of herself, if ever.

  He joined her on the bed, gently applying pressure until they were face to face on its immense surface, her damaged leg beneath him, hidden from view. Capitalizing on that, he laid his hand on her good thigh and skimmed his hand up and down the soft skin sheathing rock-hard muscle beneath, the warrior buried within the very feminine exterior.

  She brought one hand down to his arousal and the other to his chest, where she lazily rubbed her finger across his hard pap, tightening it into an even stiffer peak. Every now and then a spark of silver escaped from beneath her fingers.

  Adam skipped his hand up her thigh and beneath the hem of the shirt, mindful not to pull it upward as she stiffened beside him. As their gazes met, she realized he would honor her earlier request and relaxed.

  He brought his other arm around, pillowed it beneath her head so he could kiss her at his leisure, which he did while tenderly playing with her breasts, teasing the tips into rigid peaks, which he tweaked and rotated, drawing a pleasure-filled moan from her.

  A second later her mouth was on him, teething and sucking at his tight nipple, yanking a strangled groan from him and a demand for the taste and feel of her on his lips.

  He lowered his head, found the tip of her through the fabric. He sucked and bit at her taut nipples until she was clutching his head to her and easing her thigh over his, her hands guiding him to her center.

  He reached down and, with a sharp tug, ripped the fabric of her panties and tossed them away. She urged him ever closer with her hands until he rested against her core. At the first sensation of her, warm and moist, he almost came as an upsurge of emotion and power twisted together in his gut. Somehow he restrained himself, dragging in a breath and holding it for only a second, because that was all he could wait to be within her.

  Bobbie accepted the first tentative probe. She shifted her hips forward to take in the tip of him, her gaze locking with his as he slowly pressed forward. His width slipped inside her, ever deeper as she accepted the length of him. His heat marked his passage into her and was followed by a strong and insistent pulse of power that flowed through her body before returning to his.

  His aura was totally visible now, a magnificent purple threaded with silver and red that surrounded both of them in a cocoon of energy. His eyes glowed a bright iridescent green, but wonder filled his gaze.

  She imagined hers had the same look, since she had never savored anything that felt so right. So perfect. So complete. As she spread her hands wide on his chest, the hum of power seemed to grow, pulling a profound vibration from her core as the threads of silver and red dancing around him shifted and quaked as if alive, then slipped from him into her, causing a catch in her breath until he moved within her, dragging that insistent pulse to between her legs where it grew with each stroke of his body.

  She was shaking, her body trembling more and more until it was as if the next pleasurable stroke would splinter her into pieces.

  “Adam,” she called out, gripping his shoulders tightly, her head thrown back as desire grew, almost overwhelming.

  “I’m here, Bobbie,” he said, his own voice shaky. The feeling of being within her was amazing, but so was the way his power swam through her, as if they were part of some cosmic current. He could feel the rush within him, escalating, creating the first hint of static in his brain that said he was on the verge of losing command of that part of him. He drove it back, fearful of hurting her.

  Instead he focused on the human feel of her, so warm and tight around him. Skin smooth against skin as his body quivered beside hers, caught up in their lovemaking, the grind of his hips growing ever more erratic until it happened.

  She screamed his name, her body shattering into a thousand points of light as her climax blasted through her and transferred its energy to him, bringing him to a higher precipice as the noise increased in his head once more.

  He needed release, he thought with a sharp groan punctuated by her name, extending her climax with a few powerful thrusts before he came. He spilled himself inside her while the sheath of energy shimmering around them ballooned and shot off flares of light.

  His body trembled beside her as he encircled her waist and held her close. The noise in his head abated as the power finally ebbed, leaving behind a peaceful blue ocean of calm that bathed them in its vitality.

  Neither of them spoke.

  Bobbie didn’t think she could, much less find the words to describe what she had just experienced.

  She just curled up tight to him, her body still cradling him within her. His arms wrapped around her and hers around him. No longer two disparate forces, but one.

  The feeling was both serene and scary.

  Scary because there was still so much she didn’t know about him. So much that could destroy the tranquility enveloping them at that moment. Maybe even destroy them if they couldn’t discover who was after Adam.

&nbs
p; As if aware of her thoughts, Adam raked his fingers through her hair and gently massaged her scalp. “Don’t think about that now. In time we’ll have the answers.”

  She nodded, but couldn’t help wondering what would happen if they weren’t the answers they wanted.

  CHAPTER

  20

  The sights and sounds of that Baghdad morning came alive in her dreams again, but instead of the explosions, it was sunburst blasts of energy strafing a dusty dawn. Smashing into pieces anything that dared to stand in their way.

  Something landed beside her with a thud.

  Bobbie looked down at the bloodied and burned remains of a sandy-haired body. She battled back a gag as the smell of roasting flesh filled her nostrils. Dropping to her knees, she murmured a prayer that it wasn’t him.

  That it not be Adam.

  The skin beneath her hand was familiar. Still warm. A shimmer of the blue lingered. Death hadn’t had a chance to steal those remnants of life.

  Forcing herself to act, she flipped the man onto his back. A charred and empty hole, ragged flesh, and pink and white shards of bone were all that remained of his face.

  She screamed.

  Bobbie twitched beside Adam and her long, low wail drove him awake. He cradled her in his arms and she flailed at him, caught in the throes of a nightmare. Her fitful actions and pitiful cries tore at his heart, a place he had thought oblivious to such emotion after its long disuse.

  “Bobbie, it’s all right,” Adam said, holding her close and rocking her like a baby, willing her to wake from her terror. As he did, waves of calming energy drifted from his body to hers. Slowly she came round, her gaze losing the unfocused look of shock and swinging to meet his. He sensed her apology coming, but stopped it.

  “It’s okay. We’re together,” he said, tracing the line of her brow to smooth the deep furrow there.

  She nodded and tunneled her hands through the short strands of his hair, hauled him close for a deep kiss. One of tortured need, not of passion. This kiss was meant to drive away the demons, and sadly, Adam understood the need all too well. He had felt such want himself more than he cared to admit.

  There was no finesse this time. No slow and careful taking.

  She was on him before he was completely hard, burying him within her, riding him urgently before a sharp gasp stilled her motion.

  Her leg was bringing her pain, he realized. She had taxed it with the wild and frantic motions pushing them to climax. Wanting to soothe, he ran his hand up her thigh, along the ridges of scars and knotted muscle.

  She jerked with shock and then paused to track with her gaze the path of his hand and the slight glow beneath his palm. She winced as he traced a finger along one particularly defined scar.

  “It’s ugly,” she said, and grasped his hand, arresting his journey.

  “No, it’s not,” he said, and with gentle strength, he reversed their positions, urging her to her back.

  He moved downward, pressed a kiss above her knee, just below the first evidence of her injury. Her body jumped beneath him, but not with desire.

  He moved an inch farther, to the first jagged line, silvery pink against the creamy beige of her skin. When he placed his lips there her body arched as if jump-started.

  “Adam,” she keened as if in pain.

  He glanced up at her, met her gaze. Even in the dark of the night the shimmer of tears was evident. He wanted them to be tears of joy.

  “You are beautiful, Bobbie. Inside and out. Strong,” he whispered against her ravaged thigh, wanting to kiss away her hurt. He slipped his hand over her and as he did so, a glimmering blue-white frost erupted wherever his fingers traveled. He released his power, imagined that energy drifting inward, along all that hurt, driving it away. Healing her.

  “I’m scared, Adam,” she said, her body alive beneath his fingers, her life force responding to his power, the color of her aura deepening and accepting the kiss of his vitality.

  “I won’t hurt you, Bobbie. Don’t fight it.”

  A visible shudder racked her body, but she released her control and accepted him, allowed his gift to flow through her wounds.

  Her pulse raced as he trailed his hand along her ravaged thigh, the caress of his power alive against her skin, the color bright. Tendrils of silver and red spread along her flesh before disappearing beneath her skin.

  “That feels incredible,” she murmured, and brought her hand down, cradling the back of his head to urge him on.

  With a smile on his face, he continued upward, shifting past the last remnants of injury high up on her hip, dancing his fingers along the center of her as he nestled his body between her legs. He raised the hem of the shirt so he could see the dark nest of curls between her thighs, bent his head, and found the sweet nub. He licked it, which had her arching off the bed and crying his name. No fear or uncertainty this time.

  Just undisguised raw need.

  Holding her thighs open, he kissed her again and again, tasting her. Driving his tongue into her dampness. Licking all along her lips until she was writhing against the sheets and her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close. He eased one finger within and her muscles clenched around it. He nearly came himself.

  Surging upward, he braced his arms on either side of her body and looked down at her, seeking permission to enter. She raised her hips and invited him in. With one sure thrust, the climax washed over her and pulled him under with her as their forces tumbled together.

  He struggled for breath, drowning in her musky scent. In the wet heat of her, milking him. Pulling his seed deep within. His life force surged through her, completing the union.

  As he collapsed on her, she held him tight and rained kisses along his face until he roused enough to meet her mouth with his, and they were suddenly both smiling and laughing, the demons driven away. Or at least, some of them, he thought as the fabric of the shirt he had lent her rubbed against his chest instead of Bobbie’s smooth, creamy skin.

  In time, he thought, bundling her close.

  Kellen and Selina shared uneasy glances as Lucas’s body continued to twitch and spasm on the table before them. The once-brilliant red of his aura was fractured by streaks of silver and blue like sparklers glowing in the shadows of a summer night.

  “I’ve never seen such a thing. Such power,” Selina said as she walked around the cadre member, examining him in the hope of healing the damage to his life force.

  “It’s neither Shadow nor true Light,” Kellen replied as he, too, sought some cure for their fellow Hunter. He held his hand above Lucas’s body, feeling the force of the power against his palm, a constant drone like that of a race car engine at top speed.

  “The woman was there and absorbed an energy blast. She has to be Shadow. A human would have died from such a blast,” Marcus jumped in, moving closer to his wounded comrade and the duo of Quinchus who continued to circle the kitchen table they had commandeered to more thoroughly examine Lucas.

  Their cadre captain strode to Marcus, arms across his massive chest, his face stern as if chiseled from stone. “I commanded you not to engage,” Andres chastised him.

  Marcus nodded and then quickly added, “We didn’t, Captain. We were confronted, and when we would have made our escape, the man fired at us.”

  “Fired an energy ball?” Eduardo interjected from across the room. He was seated in one of the kitchen chairs, his face pale.

  “Silence,” Kellen commanded, sensing how the discussion was worrying his wife. Selina had pinned such high hopes on this man’s being their lost son. He worried she might shatter if it turned out he was a Shadow, or worse, if he was their son and the Shadows captured him. If their son, Kikin, was responsible for the energy still surging through Lucas, all could be lost not only for their clan, but for all the Light Hunters in the area if he fell to the darkness, such was his power.

  “Selina?” he questioned, as his wife stopped at the foot of the table, directly across from him.

  She shot hi
m a look, her eyes clouded with worry although her face was shuttered in an attempt to hide her concern. Her voice seemed smaller when she spoke, as if from a great distance. As if some spark of life had left her, and his heart clenched with the thought of losing her. Life without his wife would be interminable.

  “We must ground him, Kellen. Act as the conduits to release this force from his body before it totally short-circuits his life energy.”

  Kellen didn’t question her judgment. Through the many decades of their marriage he had come to understand that Selina understood the vagaries of their Quinchu power better than any of them. With a nod, he took a position close to the head of the table and raised his hands, mimicking his wife’s actions.

  “On three,” she said and began the countdown.

  “One. Two. Three.”

  They both plunged their hands through Lucas’s splintered aura and grabbed hold of him. At the moment of contact, the energy slammed through Kellen, eclipsing any he had ever gathered and charging him with intense vigor, more forceful than even his current life energy.

  As he raised his head, he could see his wife was experiencing it as well. As their gazes locked, they allowed the power to sweep over them, into them, revitalizing their own flagging vitality.

  Beneath their hands, Lucas’s body stilled as the foreign energy left him. His body and face became peaceful. As Kellen and Selina pulled back, releasing him, his aura returned to its normal crimson hue and his eyelids flickered open. Dazed, he struggled to one elbow and peered around the room at the members of his cadre and the two Quinchus. “What happened?”

  Kellen and Selina stepped away from the table. Even across the distance, they sensed the power enveloping them. Their bodies thrummed with its spirit.

  Selina was the first to speak, and her tone was stronger than before, far surer than it had been for longer than Kellen could remember. “The man is Kikin, and he’s found his focus. His natural affinity is lightning,” she said, and raised her hand toward her husband.