Tiger Bound

by Tressie Lockwood

  When he was done, he kissed her, massaging her ass cheeks and running a thumb between them. She arched, going up to her toes, and he pushed the digit into her anus.

  “Heath, you said…”

  “Shh, take it, baby. As long as it feels good to you, take it.”

  She let him run his thumb in and out of her tight hole, loving the sensation. Her thighs trembled and threatened to give, but he wrapped an arm around her waist. She peered over her shoulder and watched as he stood slightly to the side so he could see as he continued to work her hole. Pleasure erupted in her core, and she fell forward to catch herself against the wall. Water rained down over her head and back. Still, Heath didn’t stop. He worked in a rhythm of circles, not even touching her clit. Yet, her climax grew stronger and came closer to the edge. When she didn’t think she could take it another second, she put a hand on this wrist to still him, but it was too late. She came, screaming.

  Heath flipped her around to face him and jerked her into his arms. He wrapped her legs around his waist and hoisted her high enough to allow his cock to penetrate her pussy. She clung to him, clenching her teeth together. Her forehead dropped to his shoulder, and she whimpered.

  “Heath.” His name ripped from her throat, and she prayed he didn’t hear all the love springing up from her soul in that one word. He couldn’t know, not now that he was convinced they wouldn’t work. His feelings were physical need, an animal’s drive. Maybe hers were as well. They consumed her, made her desperate for him, but she had to hide it. Let him think I wouldn’t die without him, sick or not sick.

  “Deja.” Her name on his lips shot an arrow to her heart, but for an instant, she saw past her own pain and wondered at the desperate ache she’d heard in his voice. Maybe the tiger gave it that inflection as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her ass and drove her into his thrust. He thumped deep and rough inside her. She lost her breath and held on. When she looked into his eyes, she saw the wildness, but something else lurked there as well. Was it pain?

  Water ran down his handsome face, and he blinked, taking away the insight. She kissed him, twining her tongue with his. That was the only thing she could do now. She was broken, but in silence, she offered the pieces, hoping he would treasure them as much as she treasured him. I love you, Heath. I’ll never stop. I can’t stop.

  They moved as one, Deja taking all of him and giving all she could in return. She pistoned her hips, loving the feel of his thick cock spreading her folds and sliding so deep inside her. She loved just as much drawing apart when he almost pulled free because it meant she could enjoy the joining that much more. Heath squeezed her thighs and raised her up until just his cock head penetrated her. She marveled at his incredible strength, and they stared into each other’s eyes as he held her there in the air.

  “Heath,” she pleaded, and his eyes flashed a pale blue, almost translucent. He let her fall, and he plunged in. Her hold on his shoulders went slack, and she came, shaking and moaning. He caught her as she fell back, and he left his shaft planted between her thighs. A pulse went through her just before his hot seed exploded into her sex. Heath sank to the side of the tub, holding her on his lap. Water pooled beneath them on the floor, but neither of them cared. Deja clung to him, determined anew. No matter what he said, she would stick by him. No matter what he was or what he did, she would be there—forever.

  Chapter Thirteen

  If Deja thought after making love with Heath her sickness had disappeared, she was wrong, so very wrong. She woke up in such pain, for a full half-hour she could say nothing. She couldn’t get out of bed to go to the bathroom or sit up. Heath lay at her side asleep, and when he woke, she pretended to be out of it so he wouldn’t know.

  “Deja?” he called. He could hear the irregularity in her breathing, even across the room, it seemed.

  When she opened her eyes, she sighed in relief. Heath faced the window, studying the street. She knew he searched for signs they had been found. Some of the pain eased enough for her to rise, so she sat up. The spinning in her head required her to take her time about it.

  Heath spun to face her. “How are you?”

  She managed a half smile. Better to give him a bit of the truth rather than to deny she hurt at all. He wouldn’t believe it. “My stomach hurts a little, and I have a small headache, but it’s not nearly as bad as it was. I think I’m on the mend.”

  Doubt clouded his eyes, but he seemed to accept her answer. Maybe because he couldn’t handle anything else at the moment. He approached her, and she thought he was about to pick her up or at the least hold her hand, but he retrieved the money he’d left on the unbroken nightstand. She wondered where he’d gotten it since neither of them had their wallets. Come to think of it, how had they checked into this place without ID? When she asked, Heath refused to give details about what he did while she lay unconscious.

  “I need to get you something to eat. Try to get cleaned up and dressed while I’m gone.” He said the words without looking at her, and she remembered last night’s activity. Neither of them wore a stitch of clothing when they fell asleep. Deja lowered her gaze to the front of his pants and saw the bulge. The man’s sex drive knew no bounds, and if she were not ill, she would welcome it. That is, if he offered.

  “Okay,” she muttered, because she refused to beg him to help her. If he avoided looking at her and kept his distance, there wasn’t anything she could about that right now.

  He left the room, and she spent the next twenty minutes trying to make her way to the bathroom, which was just a few short feet. By the time he returned, she’d just made it to lean over the sink and suck in shallow breaths. Her sides burned and her head spun. If she moved an inch, she thought she would hurl.

  Heath walked into the bathroom and frowned. “Deja, what are you doing?”

  “I’m blow-drying my hair since you wet it in the shower and it air dried in bed. I look a hot mess.” She peeked at him over her arm and caught him first taking in the nightmare of her head and then searching for said hair-dryer. She laughed and then moaned. Her legs gave, and he caught her. She heard the grunt of frustration when he had to put her on his lap. “I’m too fat or what?” she demanded.

  He didn’t answer. In silence, he helped her wash off and brush her teeth. Then he got her clothes on her before he attempted to tackle her wild hair. Deja wasn’t embarrassed he saw her hair the way it was. He’d seen it look crazy plenty of times over the years. Knowing he went through the motions of caring for her and found it annoying got to her.

  He sat her down at the table to eat a breakfast sandwich, but she picked at it because her stomach stirred. When he went into the bathroom and came back with the hair-dryer, she stared at him.

  “What are you going to do with that?”

  “You said you needed to dry your hair.” He studied her head like he needed to figure out how to tackle it.

  “I was kidding. It’s already dry. I need to take these braids out, wash it, grease it, and then rebraid it.”

  He sighed. “Deja, you should have told me that before I dressed you.”

  She gaped. “You were planning to do my hair?”

  “You’re saying I can’t?”

  “No, I just… Well, I didn’t think you would go that far. Thank you, but pulling it into a ponytail will work. It’s not too bad. I’ll do it in a little while.”

  He didn’t wait for her, but stood behind her chair and proceeded to finger comb her hair to the back of her head. From somewhere, he produced a rubber band—not good for hair—and looped it once around the lopsided ponytail. She almost cried for his sweet but terrible effort.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, a lump in her throat.

  He nodded and wrapped her sandwich. “You will eat this later.”

  “It’s too heavy.”

  “Then I’ll get you something lighter that you will eat.”

  Deja rolled her eyes. “I don’t have much of an appetite. I think I can survive a couple missed meals.” />
  “Deja, don’t argue with me.”

  “Fine, damn it. Later.”

  He eyed her and then nodded. They left the motel and were shortly on the road with Deja lying across the back seat of the vehicle. She noticed Heath had picked up a car and ditched the van. She wondered how he did all this without any qualms. They were essentially fugitives, and before long they might be caught. As she passed in and out of consciousness because of the bumps in the road and her body turning against her, she wracked her mind for a solution, some way to help Heath and clear him of all this trouble. So far, no answer came to her, but she would not give up.

  * * * *

  Deja stood at the motel room door with her hand on the doorknob. She glanced over her shoulder at Heath. For the last few days, he’d driven almost nonstop and slept little. She spent that time sick more often than not, and now that they stopped over, she wanted to let him rest. Hunger stirred in her belly, and Heath said he’d go and get something, but that had been a couple hours ago before he dropped off. She needed to get out of the room to see something different for a change, and she would be back before he woke.

  She peeked outside and scanned the area for anyone suspicious as she’d seen Heath do a few times. When one or two people appeared to pay her no mind, she stepped out with the card key tucked in her pocket. Heath had managed to get them more clothes too. Once again, he refused to tell her where he got them. The fact that he protected her too much annoyed her. They were a team, and she could be of help if he just let her.

  She toddled to the end of the row of rooms and paused to lean on the wall. With the strength she had, she might as well be a baby, but she was determined to get to the restaurant she spotted next door to the motel. After nearly turning back and finding it was just as far to the room as to the restaurant, she pushed on and made it to the entrance. An arm reached past her, and she froze.

  “Let me get that,” the man said with a smile.

  Deja cast him a suspicious glance, trying to determine if the friendliness was all an act. If he wanted to kill her, or wanted her to lead him to Heath, wouldn’t he find a reason to keep her from joining the other patrons inside?

  “Thank you,” she mumbled, and did her best to hurry in without stumbling. Once inside, she chose a table near the front counter rather than the stools because she knew she wouldn’t be able to climb onto one. Various customers sat about eating and drinking coffee or soda around her. At the counter, a man shoveled pie by the huge forkfuls into his mouth. Deja studied every person and gave a double take to anyone who stared back at her. She had concerns about the redheaded woman in the booth opposite hers and the older man maybe in his late fifties at the end of the counter, but exhaustion took hold, and moving wasn’t an option.

  “What can I get you, sweetheart?” the waitress asked.

  A question of the city and state trembled on her lips, but she bit it back in time, realizing she could have checked the stationary or other media in the motel room before she left. She’d find out when she went back. No need to draw attention to herself with idiot questions.

  “Yes, can I get scrambled eggs and hash browns, please, and a cup of tea?”

  “You want bacon or sausage with that, suga’?”

  “No, thank you.” The south, she concluded from the woman’s dialect, and a sense of being home came over her, although she was pretty sure Heath avoided Oklahoma for the time being.

  The waitress brought back her meal and a small glass of sweet tea. Definitely the south, Deja mused. “I’m sorry, I meant hot tea. Uh, never mind, I’ll take this. Thanks.”

  She had a moment of panic wondering if she remembered to take money and then recalled she had. Heath always left it on the nightstand. Deja took time to section her eggs and hash browns in bite-sized pieces and then almost hurled them across the room when she swallowed. A knife of pain tore through her abdomen, and moisture broke out on her temples. Her head dropped when she curled in defense, but she put up her hand just in time to keep it from slamming on the table. For a long time, she remained that way.

  The waitress wandered by and stopped at her table. Deja recognized her by the serviceable cushiony-soled shoes, but she didn’t look up. “Everything okay, suga’?”

  “Fine.” Deja’s less than friendly answer couldn’t be helped. The waitress went on about her business, and Deja wished she had a cell phone to call Heath. His procurement of money, clothing, motel rooms, and vehicles hadn’t included those devices. Who would they call anyway? Who could help them?

  While she waited for the pain to ease, she let the constant drone of the TV newscaster’s voice soothe her. Not that she paid much attention to what was said, but when the name Holmes caught her attention, she repositioned her heavy head on her arm so she could see the screen.

  “Dr. Gail Holmes, a geneticist and former employee of Senifax Industries, was found dead in her apartment on Sunday. No word on cause of death, although the authorities are ruling it a suicide. In other news…”

  Senifax? Deja recognized the name of the doctor who had experimented on her. How could she forget? Somehow, she thought that entire experience would haunt her dreams for many years to come, but why would they report her former employer rather than Spiderweb? For that matter, she and Heath were definitely not in Nevada anymore. Why was this national news?

  She pondered the situation more while pushing her uneaten food around on her plate. Had Dr. Holmes killed herself because they’d escaped? That wasn’t her fault—or did Spiderweb consider it her fault? Maybe this wasn’t the same woman. No, she’d seen the picture, and the news channel seemed intent on making her face prominent so no one would miss it.

  She jerked upright in her seat and winced when nausea assailed her. Could this be a message sent to Deja and Heath, one to let them know no one screwed the company and got away with their life? Deja’s teeth clicked together with her fear, and the only way she could get them to stop was to clench her jaw. She paid for her meal and left a small tip, then worked her way back to the motel room. By the time she reached it, she puffed outside the door, leaning her face against the cold panel. When she stuck her key card in the slot, the door jerked open and she fell in. Heath dragged her into his arms and kicked the door shut. He carried her across the room and deposited her onto the bed.

  “Where the hell have you been, Deja?”

  She flicked a look up at him, although she was pretty sure she appeared more drunk than indignant. “Who do you think you’re talking to like that?”

  “Didn’t you think I’d worry when I woke up and you weren’t here? I was about to get in the car and look for you.”

  “I told you I can—”

  “Don’t start that,” he railed. He paced and ran his hands through his hair. She gasped, seeing them shake before he steadied them, and his eyes, now that she studied him, displayed slitted pupils like the tiger. He really was worried. “Deja, this isn’t a game.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then act like it.”

  “I get it, okay? Damn it, Heath, I’m not a prisoner. I needed some fresh air, and for the first time in what feels like years, I had the energy to get up and do for myself. Do you know what it’s like to have to depend on someone else to freakin’ wash you? It’s like I’m an invalid or an old woman before my time. I don’t want this any more than you do.”

  On her last words, her voice cracked, and she pressed a hand to her mouth. Heath dropped to his knees in front of her and took her hands in his. He kissed one and then the other, taking her by surprise. His hot and cold attitude drove her insane and left her confused.

  “Shh, baby, I’m sorry.” He ran a hand along her cheek, but she turned her face away, and he let it fall. He sighed and stood to sit beside her. “I can’t imagine how it must be, but I do understand. In some ways, I’m encouraged by how you’ve been doing all this time, and in others…” He hesitated.

  “Talk to me, please. It’s not right that you shut me out and expect me to o
bey you.”

  He gazed at her with dawning understanding, and his pupils expanded in a flash and went back to their normal roundness. Or is the other way normal and this human side unusual?

  “You’re right,” he admitted. “I’ve carried this burden alone.” She flinched, but he laid a hand over hers. “I don’t mean you. I mean what they did—to both of us, knowing I can do nothing. No, I haven’t found the solution yet, but I will. While we’re on the road, I wrack my brain for how I can get you help without alerting Spiderweb to where we are. The last time we ran into their operatives was in Arizona, but I haven’t spotted any since then.”

  “Arizona? When was this? I didn’t see anyone.” Hell, she didn’t know they passed through Arizona.

  “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “See, that’s what I mean. You can’t keep everything from me. I can’t help if I don’t know.” His look seemed to ask how she could help anyway and she glared at him. “I might have ideas you haven’t thought of.”

  “That’s true, and I apologize.” He stood up and moved away from her. When he started the pacing again, she knew he had something to say he didn’t want to share. Rather than demand he spit it out, she remained silent and let him take his time. Her impatience had her itching.

  Heath stopped walking at last and faced her. “The way I understand it, none of the women survived the change, but my mother did.”

  Deja brightened. “Maybe that’s because she was strong, and I am too.”

  The pain in his gaze stirred her heart and made her want to cry. He must truly miss her. Deja would do anything to go back in time and save the woman somehow.

  “Sweetheart, she didn’t survive at all. That doctor did something to me to make me regress into the past, to remember some things I’d let go. Sure, my mother lasted longer than the others, but she was always ill—always. She almost never left her bed. I think the only reason she hung on that first year was to have me, and then her health went further downhill. Tate gave her medicines to prolong her life just as he gave me the medicine to suppress what I am. If he didn’t, I suspect she would have died in the beginning like all the rest. The biggest problem we have is that I don’t have access to any meds to help extend your life. I can’t help you no matter how hard I try.”