Megan's Mark

Page 25

"See how sweet and tight you are? Like a snug little glove created just for my cock."
His explicit words had her moaning in excitement, the gravelly, growling sound of his voice piercing her womb as his erection tunneled through her pussy with increasingly hard strokes.
The air around her began to pulse with hunger. His. Hers. The smell of hot sex, sweat-soaked bodies and lust filled the room. Braden's growling moans, her desperate cries echoing around her. The sensations weren't just pleasure—they were desperate, grinding, furious sex.
Braden braced himself over her, his teeth opening over her shoulder as
his hips moved faster, pounding his cock inside her with sharp, jack hammering thrusts that had her screaming. She tilted her hips and rocked back into him as she felt wildfire twisting through her pussy, her spasming womb, climbing higher, hotter.
He snarled at her neck, and as though the trigger had been released, she exploded. Her back arched, white-hot heat whipped through her body as her orgasm ripped through her nerve endings at the exact moment she felt Braden's teeth sink into her shoulder.
Pain, pleasure-both exploded through her, one driving the other higher until she didn't know where they began, where they ended or if reality would ever return. The hard, erotic extension locked him inside her, heating her further, driving her climax harder. She felt Braden's cock jerk, felt the hard, jetting pulses of his seed shooting inside her as he growled again, a low, throaty sound of pleasure as his release rocked him as hard as hers tore through her.
Megan collapsed beneath him, feeling his lips lift from her shoulder, his tongue lapping at the wound she knew he must have made. It should have hurt like a son of a bitch; instead, she felt only a low. distant ache and a slight sting.
And Braden.
"You bit me." She could barely push the words past her lips. "Told you
not to bite me again."
He growled. The sound sent a pulse of pleasure raking over her nerve endings as she moaned in defeat. Hell, what was a little bite? She was sated and exhausted, more relaxed than she could ever remember being. She could handle a little bite or two.
Maybe.
Chapter Fourteen
"This biting stuff is going to have to stop." Megan surveyed the damage to her shoulder in the mirror over the sink as she frowned at the slight bruising. Talk about the hickey from hell.
Two small punctures pierced the flesh, reminding her of the gory vampire books she liked to read. She shivered at the thought.
"It's not that bad." His voice was quiet as he stood in the doorway watching her, his eyes dark gold, his expression carefully blank as he glanced at her shoulder.
She tried to sense what he was thinking and feeling, but he held it back, keeping it carefully behind the shields that seemed such a natural part of him.
"Wish I could do that," she muttered in exasperation before pulling on the soft cotton tank top she was going to be forced to wear beneath her blouse. This was definitely a no-bra day.
"You could, if you tried." Megan stilled. She could hear the determination now, carefully banked.
Lifting the cotton blouse from the hook on the wall beside her, she shrugged into it, buttoning the loose material as she ignored him and his comment.
"I need to go into the office this morning." She tucked the shirt into her jeans before snapping them and latching her belt. "I'm sure I have plenty of paperwork piled up and waiting. I may as well take care of it while we're waiting for whatever answers you're going to come up with for this."
Braden crossed his arms over his chest. She ignored the action.
"The paperwork can wait." Damn. His voice hadn't changed; neither had his expression. That wasn't a good sign.
"For what?" She turned and faced him squarely now. It was better to get it out in the open and fight over it before they left the house. She was evidently not going to like whatever he had to say or he would have said it already.
"We have a job to do, Megan," he reminded her. "We have to find out why those Breeds were murdered and what the Council wants with you. We're not going to do that in this house fucking ourselves to death, or in the office completing your paperwork."
"I didn't tell you to infect me with that funky hormone shit you have going on, Braden," she pointed out with a scowl. "So don't blame me for your own horniness."
He grunted at her declaration.
"Stop trying to change the subject." He straightened from the doorframe, pulling himself to his full sexy, broad height as he stared down that perfect nose of his. Well, maybe not so perfect. She looked closer, barely detecting where the flattened plane appeared to be misaligned by the smallest degree. Aha, an imperfection. She knew he
had to have one somewhere.
"So tell me what the subject is." Unfortunately, she was afraid she already knew. "I haven't heard you actually state anything, yet."
We're heading back into the desert today," he informed her. "Area Six fifteen, Section C. It's a small canyon we suspect Mark and Aimee may have gone to before heading to the gully where you found them."
Megan paused. "And you know this how?"
His lips quirked. "Jonas managed to pull another small bit of information out of that Coyote you let live. We're going to check the canyon because evidently the Coyotes hadn't made it there yet. That was their next stop. But we suspect Mark and Aimee might have stopped there."
"And you know this how?’ she asked again.
"GPS tracking was turned off in their vehicle, but they kept a directional and mileage recorder on. Analysis of the electronics indicates they were in that canyon for as long as twelve hours. Alive."
She stared back at him silently. She knew what he wanted. He wanted her to use the Empathic abilities she possessed to find the answers the others couldn't.
"It won't work," she told him softly. "If it would work, I wouldn't have to run to this desert to hide. I would have gone to my superiors and let them help me find a way to make it work."
"I'm not your superior, Megan," he reminded her, his voice dangerously deep now. "And the situation has changed. Because, baby, I can do more than just mute the emotions flowing around you. I can amplify them. Today we will find answers."
"Hold on just a damned minute." She rushed through the bedroom, determined to catch up with him as he moved down the stairs, obviously ignoring her.
"Braden Arness, you hold it right there," she snapped, grabbing the rail and taking the steps two at a time as she rushed after him.
He stopped all right, turning just in time for her to slam against his chest. She grunted at the hard contact, silently cursing the hard muscles before pushing back from him fiercely.
"What the hell are you talking about? You can amplify them?"
He arched his brows.
"Get your boots on and I'll show you. It's time to find answers, Megan.
It's obvious the Coyotes are not going to attack again any time soon and give me a chance to force the answers from them. And we can't stay here, hidden in the desert forever, waiting on them. We find our answers on our own now."
She stared back at him, fighting the fears rising inside her. She knew what it was like, the struggle to sift through the bleak emotions, the violence of lives forcibly taken. It was hell, slicing into her brain with torturous strength. She had never managed it before, had never found so much as a glimmer of hope that it could be done. Even her grandmother, with her experience in controlling her abilities, had never truly been able to do it.
"And if I can't?" she asked, hating the thought of failing him, of failing them both. "I've tried before, Braden."
"Not with me you haven't," he pointed out coolly. "There comes a time, Megan, when you have to stop hiding and start fighting. I can help you if you'll let me."
Or he could force her to do it his way, whatever it took.
She saw it in his eyes, in the grim set of his mouth. She could feel her stomach twisting with nerves, her mind already rebelling against the coming pain. The emotions and horror attached to a violent death took years to recede from the area in which it occurred. It would be just as
strong now as it had been when she first met him.
"Do you want to die like them?" he asked her then. "Do you let the Council win, Megan? Or do you fight back?"
She fought. The answer was instantaneous. She had never given anything up without a fight, she just didn't know how to fight this battle.
She moved around him carefully, stepping into the kitchen where her boots sat by the door, her holster and belt hanging on the coat rack on the wall. She stared at the Glock strapped into its protective holster before picking up her boots and pulling them on quickly. The belt went around her hips, the velcro anchors around her thigh. Moving to the hall closet, she opened the hidden door and lifted several sheathed knives from the velvet-covered shelf as well as a powerful snub-nosed machine gun.
"You're expecting them to be there," she said. She could feel it. Not in any sense of emotion or thoughts coming from Braden. but with an inborn gut-deep knowledge she couldn't explain.
"They've been watching the house." The information didn't surprise her.
"I suspect they haven't attacked because they're aware of the team of Felines watching from one of the points above us. They'll follow though. It's even possible they have a team in place."
"So how do you expect to get around them and into that canyon? And if we do, how am I supposed to figure anything out?’ It seemed a recipe for disaster to her. "I can't function in those circumstances, Braden." The emotions would attack her if she abandoned the defenses she had built against them. Slight though they were, they allowed her to function for short amounts of time.
"You did fine in the gully the other day," he pointed out, his voice never deepening nor warming.
"You helped me." She knew that, realized it with an aching sense of failure. "I hid in that shield you have around yourself."
"Because I let you." His voice was lower, dangerous. "I've let you use the shields, because you needed them. Your mind needed to learn how they worked, even if it did so subconsciously. As powerful as I suspect you are, you'll learn quickly how to create your own shields by using mine as a guide."
A bitter smile curved her lips. "And if it doesn't work?"
"Then we're both in a shitload of trouble." There was no doubt in his voice. "Do you want to risk that?"
Her lips trembled as she pressed them tightly together. Rather than
speaking, she bent to strap one of the knives below her knee, the other to her thigh.
"I don't like the way you stack the odds. Have your buddies take out the team watching us here," she suggested.
He grunted. "If they can, they will. There's always the chance they can't. Now let's get moving. I want to get there before noon."
He turned and strode from the house, clearly expecting her to follow him. Damn. And she was going to do it, she knew she was. He smelled of danger, of adventure, of a way to conquer her demons and find the freedom she had longed for all these years.
And, in that moment, as hopeless as he made the mission seem, she knew he wouldn't carelessly drive them into the arms of their enemy. He had been doing this all his life, planning each move, each battle. He knew what he was doing.
That didn't mean she had to like it.
It didn't mean he wasn't going to tell her exactly what was going on. In that moment she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was no more than a test. The decision to follow him, to trust him. And she would be damned if she wasn't going to pass it.
Braden kept his expression calm, his shields carefully in place as Megan opened the door to the Raider and jumped into her seat.