ALWAYS YOURS

by Shiloh Walker

  Then she searched for the group and found about ten people there.

  Right away, about four people said, “Hey a newbie! Welcome!” or variations thereof.

  “Hi,” she typed, a foolish smile on her face, wondering if she had lost her mind.

  Someone with the moniker of Silverwolfrising asked, “Welcome in, Dreaming. Isn’t it school time in Kentucky?”

  “I’m home schooled. Supposed to be researching,”

  “Home school sucks. I’m right there with ya,” bright pink font came through. That was a female, she assumed, since the name was Daizeegirl2.

  “That is why lots of us get to be in here during the day. Home schooling.” dumedumegood said. Kris rolled her eyes. Oh, please. Kids.

  “So what do you like to do, Dreaming? Tell us ‘bout yourself,” Daizee said.

  Kris’s mind whirled. “Movies, shopping. I like reading, but don’t tell Mom. ‘Please’, don’t tell Mom, lol. I dunno. Just the normal.”

  “Kewl. I like reading, too. I love LOTR. Tolkein rocks. Have you read Nicole Kline’s stuff?”

  A grin a mile wide split Kris’s face. And she lied. “Never heard of her.”

  And the chat room lit up with all sort of different colors as about seven of the ten people decided to tell her about how awesome her best friend’s books were. Oh, Nikki would be pleased.

  She left after about ten minutes. Didn’t ask anything. But something felt interesting here.

  There was a tugging in her belly as she left the room and scanned over the names. Yeah, she’d come back.

  Logging onto the database of missing Kentucky children, Kris propped her chin in her hand and studied the faces. Too many. Some young, some teens who most likely had run away. And a few that were listed as being returned safely back to their families, though not enough. She wanted to see Nessa’s name there.

  One face caught her eye. An extraordinarily lovely face. Andrea Silver, sun streaked tousled blonde hair, an innocent smile, big dark eyes. Fourteen, missing for about five months. Her eyes were happy, sparkling with the joy of life. Clicking on the link, Kris read the little bit of information that was available.

  Walking home from work on a Saturday afternoon in Louisville. Never made it home. Her parents had a bad fight with her the day before. It was assumed, though, from the way she was reading, that the girl had run away. Shaking her head, Kris caught her lip between her teeth.

  Nothing really, at all, to relate to Nessa.

  Except this odd little buzzing tingle in her head as she stared at the face. Bella Martin. No reason for that one to have captured her attention out of all of those many faces. Loves to sing, very talented, amazing dancer...

  Kris shook her head as a deep voice, unfamiliar, but sounding so very real. Ticking off talents of a child Kris had never met, or seen before tonight. “You've lost your mind, Kris.”

  Young, young enough to be broken, a virgin...

  Now Kris was starting to feel ill. Hot, sour licks of nausea rolling in her belly as she stared at the innocent, lovely face. A shadow passed over that face and Kris felt her mouth tremble. That pretty girl...dead. She refused to let the thought enter her mind, but her gut, she felt it. In her soul, she felt it.

  Slvrnghtgale.

  She didn't realize she had been touching the keyboard until the word was already typed out. Jerking her hands away from the keyboard, she hissed. Damn it. Kris leaned away from the desk, closing her eyes. All her life, she had experienced odd things. Not just the dreams, but more than that. She had never questioned them, but she had never pushed too hard to learn more about them either. She had ignored what she could push away and what seemed of little use to her. Used what seemed to be of benefit, and some things, she had little choice, as some other part of her kicked in and took over.

  It had been that part of her dictating when she had come down to find Nikki that first time. Why she hadn’t just let it go when the girl ignored her letters. It had been more than just a feeling that the author behind those roughly written, but amazing stories. And it hadn’t been about the stories.

  It had been about the woman.

  It had been about Nik. Nik had needed her.

  Kris had been following that urging each time she had given Dylan information that had led to one of his cases being solved.

  But this—this was stronger. And that voice, it was foul. The voice...it rubbed inside her head, like raw silk, poisoned raw silk that would touch her skin and let something evil seep inside and fester, and kill.

  “Damn it. What in the hell is going on with me?”

  But she knew. Dylan, damn him, had gone and made her acknowledge something she had been pushing aside all of her life. She was different, at least a little. And the less she pushed it aside, the more it came out.

  ****

  When he got home, Dylan came through the door expecting to find pretty much anything from the New War on Terrorism to the Cold War. He got...Kris on the computer, her eyes with that glassy look of somebody who had been chatting a while and didn’t intend to stop any time soon. She mumbled something in his direction and drew her feet up under her as she shifted position on the couch.

  “Ah, what are you doing?”

  “Working.”

  “On what?” he asked, cautiously. The terse tone of her voice didn’t exactly sound angry, but she sure didn’t sound welcoming either.

  “Projects.”

  Projects. Hell, with her that could be something for Nikki, to editing something for Escapade, or something for the investigation. “You going to be any more detailed than that?” he asked, deciding this caution was for wimps and sliding closer, stroking his hand up and down the smooth naked skin of her back. There was certainly a wealth of flesh bared by the low lying back of her chemise, he mused.

  “Haven’t decided yet.”

  “Aren’t you being talkative,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

  She snorted and flipped her laptop closed after pass protecting it when he craned his neck around to better see what was on it. Dylan could always snoop, but she was kind of funny about that. And a damn good computer person. The last time he had tried, her files had sort of shut down on him, and she had known. And was perturbed. The ice in her green eyes had been cold enough to freeze a man’s balls, and that haughty demeanor had returned. In spades. Of course after a day or two having to crawl, he finally figured out that was exactly what she wanted. Him crawling.

  She was just waiting to see how long he would crawl...she hadn’t been all that pissed off then.

  Pass protecting her laptop was just habit. Dylan suspected at the time she hadn’t really cared that much. But as she held her laptop to her chest and left the room in silence, he decided if he so much as tried to touch that laptop, she would have his hide. Stretched, cured and hung on the wall. Oh, he could get past whatever fail-safes she had on the laptop. No way whatever set up she had would hold against him if he really wanted to get into the computer. But he didn’t have any reason to break her trust like that. And right now she was mad about this morning.

  Damn it, could he blame her?

  Not really. Leaning his head back, he stared at the ceiling and wondered if there was anything he could have done different. Likely not. Kris was too damn smart, too damn brave, too damn natural at this. Sooner or later, he should have known she would be itching to do more than just give him a little bit here and there, give him the start. Sooner or later, she’d want to see a case through.

  But how in the hell could he risk her?

  But if I don’t, I’m going to lose her.

  Chapter Eight

  Dylan was moving down the hall, his mind still heavy with thought when the shower came on. A groan rumbled out of his chest. A wet naked Kris. How in the hell could he resist a wet naked Kris?

  Padding on silent feet into the dimmed bedroom, his eyes tracked over the neat pile of clothing she had had left by the bathroom door. Her tiny lacy panties on top, a black silk bra laying just to
the side. The steam drifting out of the bathroom was redolent with the scents of vanilla and peaches, the soaps and lotions she loved.

  Placing the flat of his hand against the bathroom door, he pushed it open and felt the blood drain to his groin as the outlined of form of his lover appeared in the foggy glass of the shower door. Damn it, she was his. After all this time. His.

  As he watched, she lifted her face the spray of the shower and slicked her hands over her head trailing them down her arms and wrapping them around her torso. Kris leaned against the wall, her head down as the steam thickened in the room, billowing around him. As Dylan watched, she propped one shoulder against the wall, head down, letting the water pound around her body.

  That dejected slump wasn’t like her. Unable to take his eyes away, Dylan watched as a deep sigh wracked her body and she pushed her streaming hair away from her face, still unaware of him.

  What is inside your head, darling, that’s got you so down?

  Shit, was it from this morning? Had he made her look so dejected? Reaching up, he flicked open the buttons on his shirt and freed them, one after the other until he could shrug it off . As it fell to the floor, he reached for the buckle of his belt, his cock jerking within the snug confines of his shorts as he freed the button from its hole, sliding the zipper down.

  Kicking his shoes aside, he shoved his jeans and socks off and moved across the bathroom, purposely making enough noise that she lifted her head, blinking her eyes, staring at him with dark, intense eyes as he opened the shower door, steam billowing out around him. “You’re too quiet,” he murmured. Closing the door behind him, he shook his head and crowded her back against the wall, fisting his hand in her damp skeins of hair. “I don’t like it—can’t stand it. Open your mouth.”

  Kris stared into his eyes, mute. Against his chest, he could feel the hot, hard little points of her breasts and lower, the quivering of her belly, the soft, wet curls of her mound against his cock as he rubbed against her. “Open your mouth,” he whispered again, dipping his head and licking her lips, cupping her face and using his thumbs to angle her jaw up to him. “I want to taste you. I want you to open for me.”

  “Dylan, don’t…”

  “Perfect,” he muttered, ignoring her words and pushing his tongue inside her lips, past the barrier of her teeth, stroking his tongue over her teeth, the roof of her mouth, the sides of her cheek, deeper and deeper until she was moaning.

  Dylan trailed his hand down her thigh and gripped her knee, pulling her leg up. He groaned as the position spread her thighs, teasing the hot sensitive flesh of his cock with the wet naked folds of sex. Anchoring her knee against his hip, he dragged his throbbing length against her, a growl working its way out of his tight throat as the dewy heat caressed him, teasing him.

  He nipped at her lip before kissing his way down her chin, her neck to capture one hard swollen nipple in his mouth. When she moaned and arched against him, he pushed inside her, slowly, withdrawing, then pushing back in. Slowly, each time barely breaching that hot, tight sheath as he rolled his eyes up and stared at her glowing face.

  Her hands came up and clenched on his shoulder, a delicious little pain from her nails as she raked him and demanded roughly, “Stop teasing.”

  “I love you,” he said gutturally, anchoring one arm beneath her buttocks and bracing her more firmly against the wall as he pulled his cock out, feeling the sweat on his brow as he started to sink slowly back inside, feeling each exquisite tightening of her muscles around him. “You know that, right?”

  “Ummmm, stop talking and love me,” she urged, digging her heels insistently in his ass, arching her back as forcing her body to slide further down on his cock before he pinned her against the wall, leaning forward and nipping her lip.

  “Uh-uh, sweet. That’s cheating. Tell me…”

  Kris lowered her lashes, and Dylan felt a dangerous heat building in his gut at the seductive smile playing on her lips. Her hands left his shoulders to slick down his chest before coming up to cup her own breasts, stroking her thumbs over her nipples lazily as she leaned up working herself up and down lazily on his shaft as best she could with his hands limiting her movement. “Tell you… I need you? Tell you I want… you? Or that I love you? Silly boy, Dylan. You already know all of that. Now stop playing and love me.”

  Dylan’s control snapped with a near audible pop as he drove upward into her, pinning her against the wall and plowing upward into her channel, growling and driving deeper and harder.

  As she cuddled against him, he smiled. That was Kris. This hot, loving woman. Not that cool stranger he thought he had seen.

  But that cool, distant woman was there again the next morning.

  Dylan eyed her narrowly as she slid from the bed, her eyes blank, a half hearted good-morning on her lips as she glanced at him when he spoke to her.

  “Fuck.”

  He was getting pissed.

  Very pissed. And confused as hell. If she was pissed off, why in the hell didn’t she start a fight? Or finish the one from yesterday? Sliding from bed, he snagged his jeans and drew them up his hips before following her into the kitchen where she was already pulling her cup of coffee from the automatic coffee maker. He hated to admit how much he had come to love watching her wake up in the morning, how much he was coming to need it. Her eyes were heavy lidded, dim and would stay that way until after she had finished that single, crucial cup of coffee, followed by a cup of yogurt. And at the end of the day, she’d head out the door and he wouldn’t see her for a few days. He didn’t want her to leave here angry.

  “Do you have to go to Louisville later?” he asked levelly, keeping his temper under careful rein.

  She blinked and frowned, looking up at him absently, like she had almost forgotten about him. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Kacie is hiring in another editor. I’m going to telecommute for half the workweek. We’ve started taking email queries and synopsis, and I’ll bring home a set amount of work with me. It’s a trial run for now, but it should work. I’ll head home in a while, but—”

  Dylan interrupted. “If you can telecommute, maybe you’d like to move in.” Damn it, she would move in. “It’s a long drive a couple times a week, but…” he shrugged, lamely. Maybe he should have thought that out a little better. But he wanted her here, where he could keep her safe, where he could have her with him all the time, not just two or three nights a week.

  Kris arched a brow at him, looking for a minute like her slick, cool self. “Charming offer. I’ll think about it.”

  He moved up behind her and hooked his arms over her waist, whispering in her ear, “What’s to think about? In the name of conservation, you know. No reason to pay a mortgage payment on your house when I’ve got a perfectly good bed I’d love to share with you. And I want you here.”

  She smiled. “That sounds a lot nicer. I was kind of hoping you’d say that,” she murmured.

  “Does that mean you’re done pouting?”

  Kris glanced at him over her shoulder, one slim, perfect brow winging up. Dylan had to fight the urge to grit his teeth. That royal, devil may care, Queen to the serfs look enraged almost as much as it aroused. “Pout? Is that what I’m doing?” Glancing at her coffee, she mused, “I thought I was drinking my coffee. Hmm. Well, I’ll be drinking my coffee for about another five or ten minutes. Then I will eat something and get dressed before I get back to tracking down some information about something that caught my interest last night. I’ll do that for a few hours, then I’ll work on Escapade for the rest of the day.”

  All interest in kissing that arch look off her face fled. Instead, he homed in on her words and moved across the kitchen, crowding her against the counter. He didn’t like the look in her eyes. Or the gut feeling that she wouldn’t share what had caught her interest. She was up to something, damn it. He felt it in his bones. “What exactly caught your interest? And did you forget, you agreed to do some work for me today?”

  Now both of those deep red brows rose,
before she smoothed them down and lowered her lashes over her emerald eyes, studying him through the heavy fringe, a small, cool smile playing over her lips. “Working? Is that what you call what I do? On occasion, I get an odd feeling and investigate it. Then I give you the details and you act on them. Leaving me out. I research information, and turn the details over to you. You never officially hired me, never officially made me any kind of partner. Granted, I get a decent cut from the fees you bring in.” Lifting one shoulder, Kris made a small moue as her eyes trailed over his face before locking on his mouth. “More often than not, you like having me on hand so you can fuck me when you see fit.”

  Dylan battled the rage that was building inside him, knowing it was a lost cause, but hoping like hell he could find some reason for the fight she seemed determined to start.

  She watched him with a raised brow and when he said nothing, she continued, “If that’s the case, you know where to find me. There’s no research needing done at this point. And if I get an odd little itch I need to go investigate, well, there’s no reason for me to be in the office for it.”

  Cupping his hand over the back of her neck, Dylan leaned in, laying his finger over her mouth as he growled out through a tight throat, “Enough. Got it, babe? Enough. I’m not sure where all this anger is coming from, but that’s enough.”

  Kris smiled against his finger, and the feel of that mouth, those silken lips moving against his work roughened skin drove him nuts. But he was too fucking pissed. And the chilled anger in her eyes only added fire to his rage. “You don’t know?”

  “You really don’t know?” Blinking her lashes once, slowly, Kris shook her head and pulled back slightly, arching her head so that her mouth wasn’t pressed against his finger. Then she slid her tongue out and stroked it against his finger. “You should. Haven’t you been paying attention, babe? I’m tired of being left out. I’m not the brainless, helpless little airhead you seem to think I am. I’m capable, perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”