He moved one hand down her body, undoing her slacks and sliding his hand beneath her panties, over her abdomen. An evocative, tantalizing touch, with a promise she desperately needed fulfilled. Of their own volition, her legs parted for that seeking hand. He stroked the wet flesh between her legs and a lightning bolt of electricity shot through her body.
“Damien!”
He seemed to understand, seemed totally attuned to her body. He slid a finger inside her, slow, deep, and her entire being shuddered. Yes, this was what she needed, and it had been so long. How could she have thought she could ignore such a raging demand?
Now that the flood was unleashed, what he was doing wasn’t nearly enough. She could barely articulate anything, much less the all-consuming need. “More.” Her voice was a guttural whisper, barely audible. But he knew. He was inside her mind, just as his finger was inside her body. He slid a second finger into her, and she shuddered again.
He stroked his fingers in and out, and with a little cry, she arched against his hand. It was too little, it was too much, it was everything she needed at this moment.
His thumb circled over the sensitive nub above those magic fingers buried deep inside her. “Let go, Kara.” Then his voice was in her head, whispering in that strange language again, and she felt the mental push, hurtling her toward the edge.
She couldn’t refuse, didn’t want to refuse. She went into free fall, her body screaming as the climax pounded through her. The fall seemed to go on and on; in the throes of the explosion, she couldn’t focus on anything but the sensations.
Even when the climax began to fade, leaving her a quivering, boneless mass, even when Damien pulled away from her, she couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought, much less speak.
He stared at her a long moment, his expression inscrutable. “I know we agreed there would be no intimacy,” he said, his voice raw. “But— Ah, hell, Kara. This was necessary for your well-being.”
She stared back at him, shocked. My well- being? He made it sound like he’d given her a dose of medicine for an illness. Or worse, like he was maintaining a valuable asset: Have to take care of the little conductor so she can continue to conduct for me. It was certainly cold and impersonal. Saw the problem, wham, bam, fixed the problem, now let’s get back to business.
Those thoughts sent a flare of anger through her. How dare he think of sexual need, of desire, as a problem to be fixed? And just what was she supposed to say now? Thank you?
She managed to find her voice, struggled to sound calm and unaffected. “Are we through for the night?”
Some unidentifiable emotion flashed in his eyes. “I guess we are.”
“Good,” she said coolly. “You should find everything you need in the cabinet in the bathroom. There are towels, and clean sheets for Alex’s bed.” She closed her eyes, willing him gone. She knew when he left, felt the crackling energy fade, felt the utter emptiness that settled around her like a heavy weight. She lay there, still stunned, and too shaky to stand.
She felt a rush of mortification, and her face heated. She had been totally out of control. If women ever started going into heat, she could be the poster girl. Yet Damien had remained cool and contained throughout, which made it even worse. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—think about that just now. Keeping Alex safe and stopping the Belian had to come before her personal embarrassment.
She pushed up from the couch, not surprised her legs were trembling. She zipped and buttoned her pants, yanked her camisole and sweater down without bothering to re-hook her bra. As she managed to walk the distance to her bedroom door, she heard the shower running in the main bathroom. Maybe Damien hadn’t been as unaffected as she thought. Then again, he might shower every night. She didn’t know what to think or feel at this point.
The heat flared to her face again, and she entered her bedroom. Alex was on his stomach, his arm flung over Mac, and both were snoring softly. She went into her bathroom, grateful that the previous owner had added it, along with a roomy closet, using one end of the large bedroom.
The house had been built in the forties, with only one bathroom and tiny closets. Kara’s built-on bathroom was tiny, with a shower stall crowded in with a toilet and pedestal sink, but it afforded the privacy a woman sometimes needed.
She stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were too bright in her flushed face. Definitely postorgasm symptoms. Disconcerted and disgusted with herself, she stripped, stepped into the shower, and scrubbed thoroughly. She dried off and put on a pair of sweats and some fuzzy socks. It was way too late to dress protectively, but she still felt more secure.
She sat on the edge of the bed, brushing the tangles out of her damp hair. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t banish what had happened with Damien from her mind. Nor could she forget how he had looked tonight, first when he had worked patiently with Alex, both on his shielding and on the laptop. Then again later, when he’d sat across from her for the conduction, in his faded jeans and sweatshirt, his hair loose and glossy around his face.
The fact of the matter was that the man was sexy as hell. Realizing her mouth was dry, Kara got up to get a glass of water. Damn. What was the matter with her? I will not be a slave to my hormones—or Sentinel/conductor-induced lust, she told herself fiercely.
Even if Damien had just given her one of the most earth-shattering orgasms of her life. It ought to hold her for the next seven years or so.
It would have to.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Alex’s flight left on time, so it was only midmorning when Damien and Kara drove back from Austin-Bergstrom International Airport. She never showed her concern to her son while telling him good-bye, but in the silence of the car, Damien could feel her distress. He’d been pushing her, but something had to give in order to capture this Belian.
He shouldn’t have initiated any form of sexual intimacy last night. Yet in his mind, he could still see the longing and sadness on her face, could smell her erotic scent. Could remember the feel of her skin, warming against his touch, the feel of his fingers inside her, her cries as her body arched up against him. Her need, her heat, her passion were imprinted on his senses.
He was used to being turned on when he was around a conductor, to the ongoing, sexual frustration every Sentinel endured as part of his or her job description. He knew better than to let his control slip, to let himself be affected by sexual energies. But last night, he’d stood beneath a cold shower and relieved his raging need in order to insure he’d be able to maintain that control—a very rare occurrence for him.
Kara was getting under his skin, and while he needed to put some distance between them, he’d already ruled out trying to find another conductor. They simply didn’t have the time. This Belian was too powerful, and he knew it would strike again soon.
Kara dug her phone out of her purse. “I need to call Luz and tell her Alex is gone.”
“Just stick to what we discussed, tell her the same thing you told the school principal.”
She did, telling Luz Alex had gone to visit his grandparents because he had a special opportunity to take a trip with them. Since he might also be gone the following week, during school spring break, she told Luz to take two weeks off with pay.
“Well, that’s that,” she said, closing her cell phone. “Now I have to clean house for the next thirteen days, and either live at the Busy Bee or starve to death.”
“You won’t go hungry,” Damien said. “I can cook.”
Her auburn eyebrows lifted. “You can? Where did you learn?”
“My father taught me. He was the chef in our household.”
She shifted toward him. “Was? Is he deceased?”
Damien suppressed the grief that flared within him, even after thirty years. “Yes, he’s dead.”
“I’m sorry. He was a Sentinel?”
“No, my mother was the Sentinel,” he said brusquely. “She’s dead, too.”
“Oh. I am really sorry.”
&
nbsp; He shrugged. “It goes with the territory.”
She was silent a few moments, then she asked, “So, is it common for Sentinels and conductors to marry each other?”
“It’s fairly common for those Sentinels who want to have families. It would complicate matters for a Sentinel to be married to a non-conductor, and then engage in a conduction with another person.”
“I never thought about that. Just as it never occurred to me that Richard might do a conduction with someone else, once we were together. Of course, he never did.” She stared out the windshield, her expression distant.
“You know, I didn’t totally believe Richard’s wild story about being a Sentinel until that first conduction. Talk about a mind-blowing experience. Among…other things.” A slight flush stained her porcelain skin.
“I’ll bet.”
A smile tugged her lips. “You’re such a guy.”
“So you noticed.”
She turned and punched him lightly in the arm. “You actually have a sense of humor. Hard to tell, though, with all that macho attitude and testosterone swirling around you.”
She became pensive again. “Richard rarely laughed. He was so serious all the time. Alex is so much like him. I wish Richard had lived to see his son.”
“Unfortunately, being a Sentinel is a very dangerous occupation. Which is why I don’t get involved with anyone.” Now why the hell had he said that?
“Sometimes it’s worth the risk,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t trade what I had with Richard for anything. I’d do it all over again, even those last moments—”
Hearing the catch in her voice, he glanced over at her, but she was staring out at the road again. “Must have been tough.”
She blinked rapidly. “It was horrible. But now I have Alex. And I have some wonderful memories.”
Sometimes the horrors overrode the good memories, he thought.
They made the rest of the drive back to Zorro with very little conversation. He dropped her off at her office, over her protest that she needed to get her truck. “I’ll pick you up when you’re ready,” he told her. “Just call my cell phone.”
“I can drive myself. Besides, people will start to talk if they see you chauffeuring me around.”
“And they’re not going to talk when they see my car parked at your house all night?”
“They most definitely will,” she said. “We’ll become the center of town gossip. With Alex safe now, there’s no reason you can’t return to the Magnolia Bed-and-Breakfast.”
“That’s not an option. I can’t—and won’t—take the chance that the Belian might have identified Alex. Not to mention that, as the town’s resident stranger, I’m automatically suspect, and we’ve already been seen together. I’m not going to risk anything happening to you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, that’s right, then you wouldn’t have a conductor.”
He felt a flare of unidentifiable emotion from her, but before he could respond, she said, “I’m sorry. I’m tired, and I miss my son, and I’m more than a little scared. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”
“Like I said, it goes with the territory. Do you have your gun with you?”
“No. I don’t have a permit to carry it yet.”
“That’s right. Damn. I’ll get you some police-grade pepper spray. You can keep that in your lab coat pocket.”
“That will barely slow down a Belian, as you keep pointing out.”
“It will cause any human body to react and cough and gag. That will buy you some time to escape.”
“All right.” She jerked open the car door, obviously unsettled.
“Call me when you’re ready to leave. I won’t be far. And Kara, be very careful.”
She turned to look at him. “The same goes for you Sentinel. Watch your back out there.”
Her concern shouldn’t have mattered to him…but it did.
* * * *
That evening, Kara brought home a stack of lab test results she said she needed to read before they were filed. She also brought medical files on her patients with serious health problems, as Damien had requested. They sat at the dining room table and went over the files.
There was Belle Williams with her breast cancer; Sal with his heart condition; Katie Woodward, an ovarian cancer survivor; Mary Roberts, who was battling lung cancer; and Police Chief Tom Greer, who’d had prostate cancer. There were also fifteen other patients whose names Damien didn’t know, but would be checking out. And there was one surprise: Luz, who had severe asthma, and had to carry an inhaler with her at all times.
He tapped Luz’s file. “This is very interesting.”
Kara’s eyes were troubled. “I brought Luz’s records because you requested all those with ongoing serious medical conditions. But she’s not the Belian. I can’t believe that.”
“The Belian could be anyone,” Damien said. “They’re very adept at hiding their true natures.”
“But surely Luz would have picked up on Alex before now. He’s had to be broadcasting from time to time.”
“Maybe. But the Belian might not pick up on it if it wasn’t consciously tuning in.”
“I don’t even want to consider the possibility.” Kara closed the file and tossed it onto the pile. “At least not tonight. I’m too tired to think straight. And I still have to read those lab reports. I’ve been leaving the office early, and going in late, and I’m getting behind.”
“I want to look through these records again,” Damien said, pulling the stack over. “We might have missed something.”
He studied the files, while Kara perused lab reports and initialed them and made notes on a legal yellow pad about the patients she needed to call. After a while, his stomach started demanding food. “I think I’ll putter around in the kitchen and see what there is to eat.”
“Good luck finding anything,” she said absently, her brow creasing as she studied a report. “That cholesterol level is way too high. I’ll have to call Bill Donovan tomorrow.”
Her concentration appeared formidable, and it was matched by an impressive intelligence. Damien left her to it and went to the kitchen. Mac, apparently having decided he was a friend rather than a foe, followed him and settled by the back door, watching expectantly.
Damien found a well-stocked pantry and fridge, probably thanks to Luz. He also found leftovers in the fridge—a chicken and tomato sauce dish that looked very similar to the chicken cacciatore his father used to make, and tossed green salad. In the pantry, he found rice and packaged dinner rolls. He got to work heating up the chicken and rolls and cooking rice.
It felt strange to be preparing a meal for more than one. He often stayed in hotel suites where he had a microwave and fridge, so he was used to putting together informal meals. But Kara’s bright, homey kitchen carried him back to his parents’ big blue-and-white kitchen in Syracuse, New York, and resurrected memories of helping his father prepare family meals—and with them, emotions best left buried.
He didn’t know why the memories were so vivid, because they were from over thirty years ago, and because he’d managed to keep them obscured, for the most part, until now. Maybe it was the surprising punch of nostalgia, or the cozy kitchen, or the easy familiarity of Kara working in the other room—as if they were a family unit—but he felt more at home here than he’d felt anywhere since his parents’ deaths.
After they’d died, the family duplex in Syracuse had been sold, and he’d been sent to live with his newly appointed Sentinel mentor. He’d gone from a warm and loving family environment to a sterile, utilitarian condominium and a man who had no experience with ten-year-old boys, especially one who was inconsolable with grief.
All of that was in the past, Damien told himself firmly, and every event had a reason, was a part of the Divine plan. He was right where he was supposed to be, and his focus needed to be solely on tracking and dispensing the Belian. Nothing more, and certainly no emotional involvement.
Resolute, he p
ulled the chicken and rolls from the oven and took the rice off the stove. He got out the salad and some salad dressings, put everything on the kitchen table that he had set with plates and silverware, and poured iced tea, which was served year-round in Texas.
“Kara,” he called out, heading for the dining room. “Dinner’s ready. Prepare to be impressed by my culinary abilities—” He stopped, seeing her slumped over the table, her pen still clutched in her hand.
A soft snore verified she was asleep. He gently shook her shoulder. “Kara, wake up. The food is ready.”
She didn’t move. He knew she was exhausted, and maybe rest was more important than food right now. Pulling her chair back, he lifted her up. She settled against him with an incoherent murmur. Her breath was warm on his chest and her musky, feminine scent wafted upward, assailing his senses.
The peach silk blouse she wore gaped away from her chest, revealing the lacy low-cut bra she wore beneath it. A dainty gold locket on a delicate chain was nestled between her breasts, which swelled enticingly above the cups. He knew from last night that her smooth skin would be soft and warm beneath his fingers, her breasts exquisitely sensitive.
Lowering his head, he inhaled deeply. Damn, she smelled good. His body hardened in reaction, causing him to suck in another breath. Even as he told himself he shouldn’t let his libido get the better of him, he was remembering how Kara’s lithe body had responded last night. Cut it out, he ordered himself.
As he turned to carry her to her bedroom, he was struck with the sudden image of his father carrying his mother. He’d only seen that once, when his parents thought he was asleep. He’d come quietly from his room, hoping to sneak a snack from the kitchen, and he’d seen his father carrying his mother to their bedroom. Even though he’d only been eight at the time, he’d noticed the incredible tenderness and caring between his parents, seen the way his father held his mother as if she were a precious treasure, and how her head rested against his shoulder.
His Sentinel mother had been far stronger than his human father, and could have carried him ten miles without breaking a sweat. Yet his father had always been protective toward her, even though it ultimately got him killed.
Touched by Darkness – An Urban Fantasy Romance (Book 1, The Sentinel Series) Page 19
