Touch of Evil

by C. T. Adams

  It wasn’t until I felt his erection pressing at my back did I remember. “You should know, Tom. I’m sterile. I can never have children.”

  He raised his brows. “And yet you’re on birth control. Interesting.”

  “How—?” But then I remembered that he had been in my bathroom to get bandages, and I hadn’t bothered to put away the prescriptions from the pharmacy. “It’s a hormone imbalance. I apparently inherited it from my mother. Birth control is just a handy side effect. But useless in my case.”

  “So, in either event, we’re safe.” His smile was teasing, challenging as his fingers began to stroke my nipple again.

  “Not from Mary,” I gasped. “She warned me to stay away from you.”

  The chuckle was as dark as his smile. “Not doing too well, are you?” He lifted my hips without any effort and hovered my entire body over his groin. I could feel the throbbing erection push against me, making my head spin. I needed him inside me. I was wet and hungry and wanted him—Heaven help me, how I wanted him. I tried to pull myself down, but he wouldn’t let me.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll handle Mary. You just worry about handling . . . me.” He dropped me and the full length of him impaled me like a spear. I cried out from sheer pleasure as he filled me completely. He was thick and long and every moaning thrust turned my insides into jelly. I felt a tightening that was both thrilling and frightening in its intensity. It had been so very long since I’d done this.

  I leaned forward, changing the angle, and rested my hands on the bed above Tom’s shoulders. The scent of him was amazing. His cologne, the musk of his sweat and something in his hair. It combined to create an odor that affected my brain like a drug. I leaned down more and breathed in along his neck and exhaled harshly into his ear. He let out a deep groan and tightened his grip, moving his hands down my waist. He grabbed my hips and drove himself inside me. Just when I thought I was ready to climax, he pushed me backward, and backward, and backward, until I was nearly lying prone on the bed. He held my waist tightly while he stroked relentlessly in and out of me. It was almost too much. I was so very close and couldn’t even think.

  Bright white light filled my vision and I screamed, needing release. He pulled me forward until I was upright again, without ever missing a single beat. My eyes were closed, enjoying the sensation in the quiet darkness behind the lids.

  “Look at me, Kate. I want to see that this isn’t just for tonight. I want to see something deeper in your eyes than just lust.” He slowed his movements, just when I needed him to speed up. I opened my eyes with panic. Once his gaze had caught me, I couldn’t look away. And I could see my own reflection in the dark pupils. I could see every movement we made—from his hands on my breasts to his hips thrusting up and into me.

  Faster and faster he moved, while I watched like a voyeur. He dropped one hand and started to toy with me while he slapped against me harder. I was so wet that there was a sucking sound with each stroke.

  It was almost too much I was so very close. I threw back my head to let myself go, but he pulled me back. “No, Kate. I want to see. You’re gorgeous and so sexy I can hardly stand it. I want to take you further than you’ve ever gone with anyone else, because I seem to have fallen in love with you.”

  I watched my own wild-eyed gaze in his pupils and realized that I very might well be in love with him, too.

  His movements were finally too much and I nearly shrieked as I dug my nails into his arms.

  “Tom!” The orgasm took me by surprise, pulling a second scream from my throat and dropping me tonelessly to his chest. The violent spasms of the climax made me lightheaded enough that the room spun. Each breath felt like I was starving for air.

  He got more excited. His voice dropped nearly an octave to a deep rumble. “Yeah, that’s it. That’s what I wanted, Kate. I wanted to see it in your eyes, hear you scream my name before I—”felt his whole body rise up and it felt like he nearly doubled in size inside me as he climaxed with a grunt and a tightening of his hands on my hip and neck. The extra size moving inside me caused a second, mini-climax in me, and I cried out again.

  We shook and writhed on each other’s sweat-soaked bodies while light sparkled in my vision and he continued to push himself inside me until he was spent.

  We lay like that for long minutes until our hearts slowed and we stopped panting.

  He was the first to speak. He chuckled and it bounced me on his chest. “Oh, I could do this every day. To hell with Mary.”

  18

  The bare beginnings of daylight arrived and we were still in each other’s arms. I was liking the concept of love with Tom an awful lot, which made me nervous. This level of comfort was right where the boot had dropped with Dylan. Of course, that was a subject I didn’t even want to think about, especially while lying cuddled in the arms of another man.

  I got up without waking him. I needed a shower and I wanted to think. It occurred to me while hot water was beating on my head and stinging my back that I could think. The hive was quiet. Had Monica already died? Was the danger over? I wasn’t sure whether to risk opening my senses.

  But then what I’m starting to affectionately refer to as my “spidey-sense” started to tingle. The witch wasn’t dead. She hadn’t been crushed by a falling house. No, she was in her castle, planning evil things. I knew it. But I also knew that today was the day. I could chase after fate, or try to run from it, but it would find me.

  My first instinct was to chase after it, but Tom’s words last night had stuck in my head. I had people willing to help. They had resources and abilities and I hadn’t been giving anyone any credit for brains or brawn or anything else. I would be insulted as hell if anyone didn’t feel they could rely on me, and here I was doing just that. So, I would let the wolves watch Bryan and Joe, no matter how much it made my skin crawl not to be involved. Of course, I knew that Joe could fight, and Mike could as well. Mike might even be a better fighter than me, when push came to shove.

  But I would personally check to make sure that Dusty was okay, because that was still nagging at the back of my mind. Verifying the situation and not trusting aren’t the same thing at all. Are they?

  Oh, and I was going to avoid large fields of red poppies until the day was over.

  A few minutes later, I was reasonably dry and wrapped in a towel in front of the mirror, trying to figure out what to do with my hair. Shampooing had brought back memories of the last time I’d damaged my shoulder. Up is not a direction a sprained rotator cuff likes to travel. You’d be surprised how fast you change your mind about doing it. Yes, I can make suds with one hand and clean myself reasonably well. Toweling dry is a bit more of a trick, and wrapping hair in a towel is an amazingly similar motion to shifting into third. I don’t recommend it.

  Tom entered the bath while I was scrubbing my face and reached arms around me to snuggle. He rested his head on my shoulder and stared at me in the mirror. There’s a certain look that a guy gets after sex. It’s part contented cat and part dog protecting his bowl. But when the look also includes that deep down warmth that has nothing to do with lust, and everything to do with helping fold the laundry—well, that makes me feel all cotton candy and roller coasters inside.

  He wiggled his eyebrows after a second and flexed his fingers in my waist. I flinched involuntarily and he took that as an invitation to tickle me into a fit of giggles. He turned me around while I was still out of breath and kissed me. It was a long, slow taste that was happy, but not hungry, and the feeling of his arms around me was amazing.

  “I see you managed to take a shower without me. How’s the head holding up? I can never tell when they’re around.”

  “Monica’s ignoring me for the moment. She’s planning diabolical things in her evil lair.” My words were light, but we both understood the underlying seriousness. He backed up when I reached over to plug in the hair dryer and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his muscled chest. With his tousled hair, sleepy eyes and tight bl
ue jeans, he was the stuff of calendars right where he stood.

  “You going to be able to do that? That shoulder’s pretty beat up. If you survive this, you’ll probably need to get that looked at.”

  Ah, nothing like the guy you’re dating, that you might well love, being so full of hope.

  I gave him a little sarcastic look. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, dearest.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “You don’t strike me as the ‘rainbows and sunshine’ sort to want to hear lies, darling. If it’ll make you feel any better, there’s a good chance that I won’t survive either. We’ll be a modern day Romeo and Juliet.”

  True. Too true for this early. “I’ll need some coffee before I think about that too much.”

  He winked. “Already started. You’re almost out of sugar, by the way.”

  I bent over to take off the towel, and winced as I started to ease the knots out of my hair. “I don’t use sugar. I take mine black.”

  “Yeah, but I take mine with sugar and cream. So pick up some sugar next shopping trip.”

  The implication was clear, and I grinned privately. The smile was off my face before I stood up, but he knew anyway because he was grinning too. I picked up the hair dryer and gasped from the immediate slicing pain behind one eye. I almost dropped it before switching it to my left hand. But I couldn’t brush with the right either.

  Tom stepped away from the wall with a shake of his head and took the howling appliance from my hand. “Here. Let me.” And he did. Damned if he didn’t brush my hair, dry it and even braid it. That part surprised me, and I said so. He smiled sadly. “My sister used to wear braids, but she kept chewing on the ends and snapping the rubber bands. So, I’d rebraid it before Mom saw and got mad.”

  His voice went soft and he finished braiding without speaking. It was probably the wrong topic to start on, so I didn’t ask if he missed them. How could he not?

  I just knew that I didn’t want to ever have to face someone asking me that sort of question, so I had to eliminate Monica. I wouldn’t risk Bryan and Joe joining my parents, and Tom’s family, in a memory album.

  The phone rang and Tom offered to get it while I was cinching the strap on my second wrist sheath. Again, I was dressed all in black for that somber, I-won’t-take-any-shitfrom-you’ message. The sun wasn’t even fully up but I was already sweltering in my jeans, T-shirt, neck guard with accompanying dickie, and my Rockies jacket. Oh, and the knives. Mustn’t forget the knives.

  I heard creaking of wood as he padded back up the stairs. “That was Mary,” he said before I could see him. “She wants to move up the meeting. Can we go there now? Something’s got her spooked, and I don’t like it. I think she wanted to cancel, but I convinced her to honor her agreement to you.”

  While I didn’t like to put him in the middle of me and Mary, I had to admit I was pleased he picked me.

  Tom was quick in the shower, but he insisted on taking one. He even went to his apartment to get fresh clothes. Driving to the meeting I stayed about six miles over the posted limit, and kept a close eye out for cop cars. I was armed, and injured, and left the scene of an accident yesterday. Even speeding, it was another twenty minutes before we reached the address. Tom hadn’t touched me, or even smiled at me the whole way, making me believe he really was worried.

  The Shamrock Motel is on the corner of Colfax and Corbin. It’s a low rent, high-turnover establishment built in a U shape with the parking lot embraced between the two “legs.” The irony wasn’t lost on me.

  What little paint that still clung to the main building was white. The doors and shutters were a painful fluorescent green. Matching green window boxes hung crookedly be neath the darkened windows. Each was decorated with cutouts in the shape of shamrocks. The boxes displayed the desiccated remains of what were once brightly colored artificial flowers. Over the years, they’ve faded to sepia tones. There are two floors but only ten rooms. It wouldn’t have been hard to find 150 even if they hadn’t had Jake waiting outside the door.

  He was leaning against the wall of the building. He wore faded black jeans and a white T-shirt that bore a stylized werewolf glaring at me with red eyes. Not exactly low-key.

  I pulled the truck into a parking space near where he stood. By the time we’d climbed down from the cab, Jake was there to greet us. He seemed nervous, looking up and around him often. I started to ask, but Tom shook his head, so I kept silent.

  Tom wore mirrored sunglasses that hid his eyes. Trying to read his expression was pointless. He was keeping it deliberately neutral.

  “You’re late.” Jake’s voice was unemotional. He didn’t smile when he spoke but he stood straighter as we approached.

  “We got here as quick as we could.” My voice was just as flat. I tried not to let any fear or worry come through.

  Jake didn’t answer me. He just tapped lightly three times on the door. It swung open to reveal a tiny, shabby room with three occupants. Tom started to hold the door open for me but a glance at my face changed his mind. Instead, he turned his back on me and walked through the doorway ahead of me, letting me use his body as a shield. It was a very deliberate gesture of trust. Good to know he trusted me.

  The room was exactly what I’d expected. A dive. The carpet was a matted multi-color green shag that was old enough to have almost come back into fashion. A tattered jungle print spread covered the sway-backed double bed. The scratched headboard had been fastened to the water-stained wall with shiny silver bolts that were far and away the newest things in the room. The drapes matched the bedspread, but hung unevenly on a rod that was only tentatively attached. There was no television. The people who came here were expected to entertain each other.

  Jake shut the door behind me, remaining outside to guard. With the door closed and five of us inside, the motel room was very crowded. I lowered myself onto the edge of the bed, being careful not to fall into the center crater. There wasn’t anywhere else to sit. A skinny, teenaged, blond male dressed in leather and chains had taken a seat on the windowsill and a girl in high goth was perched on the dresser. Tom had left the bathroom door open and was sitting on the closed toilet seat. The glint of sunlight off the glasses unnerved me. Why did he keep them on inside?

  I only spared a quick glance at the teenagers. Never one to waste time, Mary nodded her head briefly in response. “Kate, there’s somebody I want you to meet.” She motioned to the slender teenager on the scarred dresser. “That is Dusty Walker.”

  I looked the girl up and down, trying to picture her in white lace and naturally blonde hair. She didn’t even match the photos I’d shown to Martha. She was wearing dread locks dyed a purplish black that matched her chipped fingernail polish. The torn lace-over blouse with bell sleeves was worn over a purple tank top and camo trousers in multicolor green with pink splotches. Perfect, I suppose, for hiding in peony bushes. I bit my tongue on the sarcastic comment, concentrating on counting her piercings. She had seven silver hoop earrings in her left ear and three in her right. They went well with the ring in her nose and the tongue stud clicking against her teeth.

  “Hi.” I gave Dusty my friendliest smile. She didn’t return it. Instead, she fidgeted in her seat until the kid from the windowsill came over and put his arm around her.

  “Dusty has agreed to be our pack surrogate in exchange for protection.” Mary said calmly.

  “I’d figured that out.”

  Dusty spoke up, her voice high and strained. “I took evidence when I left home. Told him if he didn’t leave me alone I’d go public with it.”

  “So Mary told me. For the record, that was stupid.” The words popped out of my mouth before I could stop them. I’d met her stepdad and agreed with Mary that if the Thrall didn’t take her, there was always good old fashioned murder.

  Dusty flinched and the blond with his arm around her waist growled. It was a low, menacing sound that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. I found myself reaching instinctively for my left wrist sheath.

>   “Enough! Rob—” Mary made the name a warning. He backed down, but he wasn’t happy about it.

  “I won’t go back!” Dusty rested one hand on Rob’s thigh for moral support, but her voice was steady and her chin jutted forward stubbornly.

  “Did I ask you to?” I answered.

  Her body jerked back toward the mirror, her eyes widening with shock. “But—”

  “Look, I’m not here because of Matt Quinn.”

  “You’re not?” Rob and Dusty said it at the same time, and both seemed stunned and disbelieving.

  Mary gave a disgusted snort. “No, you’re here because of that damned Irishman.”

  I dropped my chin in annoyance. “He has a name, Mary.”

  She shook her head. “Fine. You’re an idiot about Dylan.”

  “Not anymore.” I was surprised how much I meant it. Mary’s eyebrows disappeared beneath her dark bangs, as if she was equally surprised. She glanced at me and then Tom, but only got her own shiny reflection in return. Ah. That was the reason for the sunglasses!

  Tom snorted. I looked at him and was rewarded with a sour smile that wasn’t at all happy. But if it wasn’t faked, and I couldn’t really tell for sure, then it was jealousy. I couldn’t deny he had the right to feel that way at this point.

  “What does Uncle Dylan have to do with anything?” Dusty interrupted. She was completely oblivious to anything in the room that didn’t involve her directly. “And why would he come to you.”

  “He wants you safe. He left me to decide what that means.”

  I could see Dusty’s back go up. Her eyes were iced daggers from under the purple mop. “And who the hell are you to decide?”

  Mary scowled, but I held my hand out in a placating gesture.

  “I’m nobody as far as you’re concerned. But your uncle knows me, and trusts me. And whether you like it or not, I agreed to do my best to keep you safe. And just so you know what we’re talking about—”