Megan's Mark

Page 37

She was so close. So swollen and begging for release.
Her cunt tightened on each retreat of his fingers, milked him back in with each entrance.
"Braden. Oh God. Braden, let me come." Her voice was husky and rich with hunger.
He murmured softly against her cream-coated flesh, his tongue flickering her clit, his mouth suckling her harder as he pushed her headlong into the explosion she was seeking so desperately.
He felt it hit her. She tightened, clamping down on his fingers with a
strength that had his cock jerking in hunger to feel it as well. But first, he had a need to taste her. To feel and to consume the pleasure that would pour from her.
He moved his fingers faster, deeper, driving into her as her clit swelled, pulsed. Her scream of release echoed around him. A final sucking pressure at her clit to ensure he had given her maximum satisfaction before he pulled back quickly, removing his fingers and driving his tongue inside her weeping pussy.
She screamed again as he licked. Her hips jerked violently as the next orgasm tore through her. He licked and probed, filling his senses with her taste, her pleasure, before jerking to his feet, aligning his cock to the sweet warmth, and driving home.
Her head had fallen back against the mirror, her expression filled with ecstasy as her parted lips gasped for breath, for strength as a keening cry left them. Sharp little nails dug into his scalp as he leaned close, his lips covering the small mark on her shoulder, his tongue licking, stroking as he fucked her relentlessly. Driving into her as he rushed headlong into his own release and triggering hers as his teeth sank into her flesh.
It was heaven. It was rapture. It was the most incredible pleasure he could have ever known. He felt the barb extend, locking into the muscles of her pussy as his cock spewed its release and the small extension vibrated with the cataclysm.
In that second he was reborn in her. He felt his soul touch hers as his gaze met the deep, dazed blue eyes staring back at him. He felt a rush of elation, of possession a second before his head fell back and a roar tore from his chest.
His mate
God only knew how much time had passed before Braden was able to loosen his grip on her. His head was buried in her long fall of hair as he crushed her to him, holding her, soothing her.
He cleaned her gently, drying the soft, swollen flesh he had invaded.
Such pleasure should have never been possible. It wrapped around the soul and filled it with a light that heated from the inside out. Warming where once it had been cold. Soothing it where there had been only pain. Just as Megan did. She was the miracle.
"I wanted to be strong," she told him moments later as he stepped back, steadying her as she stood before him. "I wanted to accept what I was remembering and then go on." Her voice was husky with spent passion, with a renewed sadness. "I can't accept it, Braden."
The heaviness in her voice tore at him. God, he had never believed that
another's pain could affect him so deeply.
"Accept what, Megan?" He kept his voice soft, gentle. It wasn't the time to push her. He couldn't push her. Whatever
tormented her memories, she would have to release on her own.
"Aimee." Her answered surprised him.
She moved away from him, reaching for the clothes she had laid out earlier. "I remember feeling the grief in that dream. God, it was so strong. I thought my soul would rip from my body, it hurt so bad. And I didn't know why."
He knew. He had felt that grief himself as it poured from the young women in the Labs. The horror, the bleak knowledge that no part of their bodies or their souls was sacred.
"She was raped." Her voice was a mere breath of sound. "It couldn't have been long before I saw them at the Academy. And she looked so calm. Her eyes were as dead as the others, but it poured from her." Anger thickened her voice.
"And the rage." Her voice was thick with the memory of it. "The rage was male. Mark knew, and there was nothing he could do about it."
Braden grimaced. God above have mercy. He couldn't imagine living with the knowledge that some bastard had forced Megan in such a way. He had been unaware that Mark and Aimee had mated, but he remembered clearly the days when their futures had been uncertain. Had Mark and Aimee been that unfortunate, then Mark would have had no choice but to endure. The life of his mate would have transcended pride, and the rage would have eaten him alive.
Braden stalked from the bathroom to where he had dropped his clothing in the next room. He dressed quickly, but it was several long moments before he could glance up from where he was tying his boots, watching as she stepped into the room.
"Who was it?'He had to know who she saw. The need to kill filled him with the fury of hatred. He wanted the bastard's blood.
He felt her hesitation and wondered if she sensed the fury he was fighting to hold back. He didn't want her to feel it, didn't want her to know the black hatred welling inside him.
"I thought he was a friend." She kept her voice low, fighting the pain rising inside her. Confusion filled the room, the fight to accept, to get past the denial of the answers she had found within herself.
"Megan." He stood slowly and moved to her, catching her shoulders as
he stared down at her. "I need to know who it was. I have to know what we're facing."
"It makes sense now." A brittle, bitter laugh left her lips as she stared back. "How he managed to pull in the military. How he could find my schedule. All of it."
An eerie foreboding began to fill him.
"I thought he was a friend," she said again, her voice hoarse as betrayal filled her. "But he wasn't. He killed those Breeds and now he wants to kill me, because he suspected their deaths could trigger the memory of seeing him with them. And he's my father's best friend, Braden. It's Senator Cooley. Senator Mac Cooley."
Bingo.
Chapter Twenty
Senator Mac Cooley. It all made sense now. He had been one of the strongest opponents of Breed Law, the new legal mandates that gave Breeds autonomy and had declared them human despite their DNA. He was also the reason why two military advisors were now required to be at the Bureau of Breed Affairs in Washington as well as two to oversee all security and interrogation at Sanctuary. Not that it wasn't easy to fool the bureaucratic twits, but the thought of a spy in the house made Braden's ass itch.
The spy was most likely the reason why the attacks at Sanctuary were always so precise and why their weaknesses were exploited so easily.
"Show me your weapons." They were moving down the stairs as Braden glanced toward the shadecovered windows.
Night was falling quickly.
"Hall closet." They made the turn and moved to the door. Megan threw it open, pushed boxes to the side and ripped coats from their hangers, tossing them to the comers of the closet to reveal a heavy metal safe door.
"I rarely keep it locked." It clanged open to reveal an impressive display of weapons and ammunition. Nothing on par with what he could have found at Sanctuary, but impressive all the same.
Until she threw open the back. Braden lifted his brows at what lay in there.
"Do you have night vision?" She jerked a pair of the most advanced military field goggles from their protective
pouch and strapped them to her head before pushing them to her forehead. Held by secure elastic straps, the small eye socket-sized goggles were the most technologically advanced in the field. They eliminated the need for unwieldy larger models, and had several little fringe benefits thrown in as extras in the lenses. They literally saw through the dark. Instead of the confusing green illumination, the wearer saw in shades of gray, with pretty little neon colors to pick up anything with a heartbeat.
"Not as good as yours." He snorted. "How the hell did you get those?
Even the SEAL teams haven't been blessed yet." "I have friends." Her comment wasn't satisfactory, but he let it go for the moment. He was more concerned with
the other toys she was pulling out. Knives that belonged in sci-fi flicks and a laser-guided pistol that hadn't even hit the military yet.
"Shit, Megan, I think your friends are a bad influence on you." He watched as she strapped the knives along various points of her body-her
forearm, her lower legs-and tucked the gun behind her back.
"Us psychic freaks tend to stick together," she informed him breathlessly as she finished, then slammed the inner door closed again before giving him a glare. "And Lance really doesn't need to know about that other door."
"Hell, I don't think I needed to know."
He jerked the cell phone from its holster and hit the command button.
"Tarek." The other man was on the line as Megan passed the ear-held comm links they had stored there the day before.
"Activate field link." He gave the order quickly. "Prepare for early extraction and removal."
"Link active," Tarek reported through the link, which would now be received by the six Breeds outside.
"Secure. Set Field Beta Three." Beta Three was the only code the advisors at Sanctuary did not have.
"What the fuck is up, Braden?'Tarek's tone was hard, concerned. Secure Field Beta Three was also the channel set for use only if top command
was considered compromised. And Tarek's wife was in the same compound as top command.
"We have a rat at headquarters," Braden confirmed. "Preparing for removal now. Pull in. I repeat, all teams pull in."
The closest point to contact Pride Command securely was the sheriff's office. Braden knew the risk: Cooley had connections within the military who could make the drive to town a fatal one. There was no doubt the roads were being watched, just as the canyon had been watched the day before.
Next, he keyed in Lance's number, waited for the first ring.
"Lance." The other man was alert.
"Extraction in progress," Braden informed him quietly. "We have possible military alerts and a high level breach of security. We're coming in."
He heard the other man cursing as he disconnected. There would be only way out of this mess. The Senator wouldn't dare send the regular military into Broken Butte, the political repercussions would be too severe. Braden bet the men in the canyon the day before had been malcontents, or part of the senator's private force drawn from those who were dishonorably discharged, or considered too violent for the
government forces. He bet they were military-trained mercenaries and nothing more.
Braden gathered up several powerful submachine rifles and ammo cartridges, then watched as Megan continued to weapon up. The single submachine handgun was strapped to her hip and secured at her thigh. A heavy knapsack filled with ammo was tossed to him.
"We won't be able to take the main road," she verified as she closed the closet door, turning to him. "I suggest heading to Carlsbad rather than Broken Butte. They won't expect that."
"Broken Butte is our only option. We'll never make it to Carlsbad," Braden disagreed as he disengaged the tracker on the cell phone, knowing the emergency signal it would send through to Sanctuary. If there was a way to get to them, Callan would do it. He would also immediately isolate the military advisors on site. It was a clear signal to the compound that security had been breached. Until then, Braden was taking active measures to protect their asses now.
"Carlsbad has a military post, manned and operational," Megan pointed out.
He shook his head, then tilted it to watch curiously as she lifted and unbuttoned her shirt and stuck two sheathed, three-inch blades beneath
the lace of each bra cup.
"Sweet." His cock jerked at thought of the weapons lying so close to intimate flesh. "Remind me not to piss you off when you're armed and ready to go."
She flashed him a wicked smile, her gaze almost electric as she rebuttoned the shirt.
"It occurs to me you might like the danger a bit more than could be healthy," he pointed out with no small amount of amusement. And damn if the thought of it didn't make him just want to throw her to the floor and fuck her for the sheer pleasure of being inside a creature filled with such incredible daring.