Bree finally sighed, breaking the silence. She said, “I probably need to apologize to Sawyer.”
Rylee shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about her,” she said. “On the scale of rude, you barely ranked next to what she can dish out.” She smiled, but Bree didn’t smile back. “Declan told me to tell you he’s sorry. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
Bree took a deep breath and rubbed her hands on her pants. Finally, she said, “How do you do it? How can you stand it? The worry? Dad, me? How?”
Rylee was silent for a moment. She turned to face her daughter with a sad smile and said, “I sometimes forget that you didn’t grow up in this world. The rest of us learn when we’re young just how wrong things can go. Sawyer lost her parents when she was 6 years old. She knows better than most how easily the people you love can die. My own parents died before I got married. And then, Jacobi…” She paused, swallowing before she went on. “You learn to live with it, the constant worry. You learn to shove it aside and do the job because if you don’t, it’ll eat you alive.” She stroked a hand down Bree’s hair and smiled. Her voice grew softer when she said, “I know it’s not a great answer, but it’s the only one I have.” She smiled. “Declan’s fine. I know it’s scary and I know it could have been worse, but it’s not. He’s okay.” She paused and looked toward the tree for a moment. “Take some time, but then go find him and show him how happy you are that he’s okay.” She raised a brow and her smile grew mischievous. “That helps too.”
“Mom!” Bree shouted, scandalized. She felt her face go hot in embarrassment, and she covered it with her hands, laughing. She couldn’t believe her mother had just said those words. But she’d managed to lighten the mood and Bree was grateful. She leaned her head on Rylee’s shoulder for a moment. “Thanks, Mom.”
“You’re welcome,” Rylee said. She hugged Bree to her for a moment before she stood. “Now, I’m going to go find your father and show him how happy I am that he’s okay.” Rylee laughed at Bree’s horrified expression. She kept laughing all the way to the exit. Bree shook her head in disbelief. Her parents were acting like teenagers. She tried to shake the image from her mind.
She sat there for a little longer, thinking of what her mother had said. She knew she was right. Life didn’t come with guarantees and she’d known what she was getting into when she agreed to join the fight. She’d made the choice to stay and now she had to learn to live with everything that came with that decision. After a few more minutes, Bree took a deep breath and sat up straighter. She could do this.
She went back to Medical and found Declan alone in the exam room. She didn’t say anything to him as she moved to sit beside him on the stretcher. She leaned her head on his shoulder with a sigh.
“Sorry,” she said quietly. Declan shook his head and carefully moved to put his arm around her shoulders.
“I should be apologizing,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking. If it had been you, I don’t know what I would have done.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“I should have been faster,” she said quietly.
Declan leaned back, forcing her to meet his gaze. Confusion was evident in his eyes. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.
“I got one, but I didn’t get the other one in time,” Bree said, her eyes cast down toward her hands in her lap. “When I saw those bullets hit you and you went down—” she broke off, her eyes closing tightly against the tears that threatened.
Ignoring the pain in his chest, Declan took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “Hey, look at me,” he said, his voice stern. When she opened her eyes and met his gaze, he said, “This isn’t your fault. Not at all. Do you hear me?” She gave a small nod but didn’t look convinced. Declan was frustrated. He knew that no amount of talking to her would change her mind. He placed a hand on her cheek, his thumb stroking the soft skin there. “I’m going to be fine,” he said. “The vest did its job and we’re all home safe.” Bree nodded again but still said nothing. Declan didn’t know what else to do, so he kissed her. It wasn’t a sweet kiss and it wasn’t a kiss that would have been appropriate in front of other people. It was the kind of kiss that usually led to someone losing their clothes.
Bree had a moment of surprise followed by a shock of desire flooding through her. She kissed him back, her hands smoothing over the bare skin of his stomach, feeling his hands tangle in her hair. She wanted him. She didn’t think she’d ever wanted him more than she did right then. Her hand trailed over his thigh, feeling the muscles there bunching under his pants. Her hand moved higher as his lips left her mouth and trailed across her jaw toward her neck. The sound of someone awkwardly clearing their throat behind her had Bree yanking her hand back and putting space between her and Declan.
Looking slightly embarrassed, Sean stood near the door, looking at his feet. “Um, you’re good to go, Declan,” he said. “Some bruising, but that’s obvious. Didn’t see any broken bones, but you might have some coughing over the next few days. If you see a little blood, that’s normal and should go away soon. There doesn’t look to be any internal damage. You got lucky. Come back in two weeks and let me check you over again. We’ll go from there. But if you suddenly have trouble breathing at any time, come here immediately. Got it?” Declan and Bree both nodded their understanding.
Bree helped Declan put his shirt on and they left Medical. He’d stubbornly refused to accept pain medication from Sean. The medic had snuck it into Bree’s hand as they’d left. “Just in case,” he’d whispered. Bree had given him a grateful smile and pocketed the bottle.
When they got inside Declan’s quarters and the door closed behind them, Bree pointed to the couch.
“Sit,” she ordered him.
Declan’s mouth twitched, but he hid the smile that threatened and sat. He had a flash of memory from his fight with Benson so long ago and the way Bree had taken charge, tending to his wounds. Things had changed so much between them, but he felt a strange sort of reassurance that they were still those people, deep down. Bree went to the kitchen and came back with a bottle of water. She opened it and handed him the bottle. Then she opened a small bottle and handed him a large white pill.
“Take this,” she said. Declan shook his head.
“No,” he said. He said it quietly but in a tone that said he wasn’t going to change his mind.
“Why?” she asked, eyes narrowed.
Declan sighed. “Because those pills make me feel stupid. I’ll take a Tylenol if it makes you happy, but I don’t want to be out of my mind.”
Bree gritted her teeth and glared at him. She stomped away down the hall muttering something he couldn’t hear, but he caught the words “stubborn” and “ass”. This time he did smile, stopping himself before he laughed. That hurt too much.
She came back quickly with two slightly smaller white pills in her hand, giving him a look that said he was taking them or she was going to force them down his throat. Had he known about this pushy side of hers before tonight? He didn’t think so. He took the pills. She seemed to visibly relax once he’d swallowed them.
He patted the couch next to him. “Sit down, Bree,” he said gently.
Ignoring his gesture, she moved to sit on the coffee table across from him, their knees nearly touching. After a moment of scrutiny, she reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up slightly. Declan wasn’t sure what she was up to, but he leaned forward and raised his arms, allowing her to pull the shirt over his head. She tossed it to the floor at her feet.
Her gaze immediately went to the two bruises that were already larger than they had been less than an hour ago. Her brow drew low with worry as she studied them. Her fists were clenched tightly, nails digging into her palms. Declan wanted to tell her again that he was fine, that the bullets hadn't really hit him. He imagined again how he would feel if it had been her and he realized that words weren’t what Bree needed. He needed to show her. He reached out and took her right hand, his fingers gent
ly smoothing her fist open. He kept his eyes on hers as he guided her hand to his chest and placed it over his heart, over one of the bruises. It hurt, but he wanted her to feel the steady beat of his heart under her hand. He had to reassure her that he was alive and here and whole.
Bree concentrated on Declan’s warm skin beneath her hand, the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her fingers. She focused on the strong beating of his heart and felt her own clench painfully at the thought that she'd come so close to losing him. She looked up from where her hand rested over his heart and met his gaze. Neither of them moved. Neither spoke. Something about the moment was beyond words.
Declan trailed his hand up to her wrist, then her arm, her shoulder. Even that simple, light touch had electricity pulsing through her veins. He cupped her neck, his fingers curving around and tangling in her hair. She leaned into his touch, her nerve endings coming alive at the pleasure of his skin on hers. Bree let the hand on his chest slide down, over his stomach and down to his hip. Her thumb brushed the warm skin that stretched tight over the bone there. Her gaze went from his eyes to his mouth and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. She could almost feel his lips on hers and the anticipation was nearly more than she could bear. She let her other hand, resting on his knee, slide up the length of his thigh to his hip. His hand on the back of her neck drew her gently toward him.
Bree didn’t know if this was a good idea in Declan’s condition, but she couldn’t stop herself from going to him. The desire to be close to him overruled caution. She moved forward, placing a knee on either side of his hips and straddled him, a sigh escaping her as she felt him press against her through the layers of their clothes. Giving into the need she felt, she ground her hips against him, the evidence of his arousal making her smile. She reached down to the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing it carelessly to the side. Declan’s hands curved around her waist and slid up to unclasp her bra. She dropped it to the floor, still not taking her eyes from his.
His hands slid up her back to her shoulders, fingers curving around to pull her closer to him. She closed the distance between them and pressed her mouth to his. The kiss was a continuation of what they’d started in Medical. The jolt of electricity between them snapped and sparked as their lips and tongues danced. The kiss quickly took on a life of its own. She sucked in a ragged breath as his mouth traveled down her neck to her breast, gasping loudly as his lips and tongue blazed a path from one breast to the other. She knew Declan was probably in pain, but he wouldn’t show it. She should stop him. He needed to rest. He dragged his mouth back to hers and she was lost in his kiss. Her hips were moving against him over their clothes and Bree felt herself shiver against the sensation. She needed him. Now.
With great effort, she pulled back from him and stood, shakily. She shimmied out of the rest of her clothes, feeling sexy rather than shy when Declan’s eyes trailed over her body. Bree didn’t know where this boldness had come from, but she was enjoying it. Reaching down, she undid the button and zipper on Declan’s pants as he watched. He lifted his hips slightly when she moved to pull them down. She openly raked her gaze over his body as he’d done hers and smiled. She stood naked before him a moment longer, enjoying the fire in his eyes as he waited for her to come to him.
This time when she moved atop him, there was no barrier of clothing between them. The feel of him against her had a heated coil of anticipation tightening in her belly. She pressed herself against him, her hips moving teasingly. Need clawed its way through her and she had to force herself to remember his injury, to move slowly. His hands tightened where they rested on her thighs and she smiled against his mouth as she kissed him.
He reached a hand between them, his fingers setting her on fire. His other hand came up to tease her breast and she was gasping for breath in seconds. Now it was his turn to smile as he watched her eyes go dark before they slowly slid closed. She gave herself over to the pleasure of Declan’s touch, all rational thought fleeing. She gasped and pressed herself against his hand, riding out wave after wave of pleasure.
When Bree remembered how her arms and legs worked, she reached behind Declan and braced one hand on the back of the couch, lifting her hips. Shifting slightly, she guided him into her, not taking her eyes off his. With agonizing slowness, she lowered herself until she could go no further, gasping at the feel of him deep inside her, filling her completely. For a long moment, they stayed that way, unmoving, as close together as two people could be. Finally, Bree rotated her hips slightly biting her bottom lip at the pleasure of that small movement. Declan groaned.
The pain in Declan’s chest was forgotten as he was overtaken by sensation. He longed to wrap his arms around Bree and move with her, to hold her close to him and lose himself in bliss. A small voice inside him whispered that it would be a bad idea in his current condition, so he forced himself to let her set the pace. It was unbelievably sexy to see Bree this way. Her dark hair cascaded around her face and shoulders. Her face flushed with desire, blue eyes shining. His hands roamed her body, worshipping every curve and dip as she finally, slowly began to move. Declan groaned as she lifted herself up and then back down, sliding along his length. He could feel every tiny movement she made, and it set him on fire. His hands gripped her hips and he again fought the urge to take control. Instead, he slid his hands slowly up to her breasts, loving the feel of her silky skin against his hands, the soft moans she made as she rocked against him.
Bree was lost in a haze of sensation, need and pleasure. The feeling of being in control was intoxicating. She buried her fingers in Declan’s hair and kissed him hard as her body seemed to take on a mind of its own. She lifted her hips and brought them back down harder, rocking against him. She felt herself sliding closer to the edge and pushed even harder. Faster. Gasping, heart pounding, she relentlessly pushed them both over the edge, crying out as she fell apart in his arms.
Chapter Twelve
Stella stood next to the olive tree, her hand resting on its smooth bark. She tilted her head up toward the branches above her, loving the way the light filtered down through the leaves. She held her hand out before her and watched the way the shadows fell on her skin, casting patterns onto her arm and hand. It seemed she spent so much time remaining unseen that allowing herself to be visible—even alone in this room—felt strange. Anytime she was outside of her quarters, she used her ability to keep hidden from everyone else in the compound.
She wasn’t even sure why she did it. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She wasn’t ready to face everyone. She wasn’t ready to see the accusation and anger in their eyes. She’d come back here and brought with her the man who’d taken Lydia from them. It didn’t matter that it had been against her will. It was her fault. She blamed herself and she couldn’t see how everyone else wouldn’t as well. Conrad had made his formal announcement, making certain that everyone here was aware that she had been a prisoner and hadn’t been in control of her own mind. But she knew that didn’t excuse her actions. She couldn’t forgive herself for what she’d done, and she didn’t expect anyone else to. She’d also heard Gwynn and Conrad talking. The council was pressuring him where she was concerned. They wanted someone to blame and they didn’t accept that the culprit had been killed that day. They wanted to speak to Stella. Conrad had held them off so far, but she wasn’t sure how much longer that would last.
Part of her wondered if she should just leave. Start a new life some place where no one knew her or what she was capable of. Sighing, she dropped her hand to her side. She knew that wouldn’t work either. Everything that haunted her here would just follow her if she left. She knew she needed to find a way to live with herself if she was ever going to find peace. As she stood there next to the tree, she heard the loud grating of the door opening. Panic coursed through her and she felt her heart begin to race. Just as she’d done every time she left her rooms, she used her ability to vanish.
She breathed slowly, taking care to make no sound. She didn’t da
re try to leave or to even walk away from the tree. Her footsteps would echo loudly in this place, no matter how careful she was. She stood frozen, her back to the entrance, listening to the approaching footsteps of whoever had entered the room. It was late—well after midnight—and she wondered who would be here at this time of night. She guessed it was probably someone who’d been involved with tonight’s mission. The team—her old team—hadn’t been back very long, she knew. The mission had been a success. Gwynn had come to Stella’s quarters and told her when everyone was home safe. Declan had been injured, but not seriously. For her part, Stella had tried to smile and say all the right things, but she hadn’t really known how to react. She wondered if some part of her had been broken beyond repair during her time with Hastings. The part that remembered how to be happy, perhaps.
After her mother left, Stella had gone for a walk through the compound. She’d found herself here, in this room though she hadn’t planned to come here. She thought about her role in the compound. The idea of rejoining her old team and heading out on missions sent her into panic mode. But she knew she couldn’t just spend the rest of her life hiding in her quarters—too afraid to face people she’d known her whole life.
The footsteps continued to move closer and she hoped whoever it was would leave quickly. She didn’t want to be stuck here all night. Just then, a worse thought hit her. What if this person was meeting someone else here? What if some couple was planning a romantic meeting? It wasn’t a far-fetched idea. She thought back to all the time she and Rowan had spent in this room, lying on a makeshift pallet under the olive tree for hours. Laughing, talking, kissing, holding one another, making plans for the future. The memories sent a jolt of longing through her that she’d thought long gone. On the heels of that was the pain of knowing those days were gone forever. She closed her eyes tightly and willed herself to focus on the present, rather than the past. How was she going to get out of this room undetected?
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