Dead World 3, page 5
Catherine scooted back, exposing a pale thigh in the process. Raphael’s gaze locked on the skin he’d lavished with attention and he felt himself harden. She must have noticed because she flipped the sheet over to cover herself.
“I could talk better if I were clothed,” she said.
“That’s unfortunate,” Raphael said, “because I like you naked. Preferably under me.”
The pink in her cheeks deepened in color. “That’s not going to happen again.”
Raphael arched a brow. “Don’t be so sure.” He was nowhere near done with her. The thought that he might never be left him shaken.
Catherine tightened the sheet around her. “What occurred between us was a mistake. You…you…overwhelmed me.”
Her words slapped him across his face. Raphael flinched, then something dangerous coiled inside his gut. “Are you saying that I forced you?”
Her green eyes widened. “Not exactly.”
“It’s a simple yes-or-no question,” he said. “You cannot preface your answer.”
If it were possible for his blood to boil it would be doing so now. How dare the little minx accuse him of forced seduction? He’d never raped a woman in his life. He’d never had to. They’d all come willingly to his rest pad.
Catherine might have protested in the beginning, but she never once uttered the word no. He would’ve known. Wouldn’t he? The thought that he might be wrong horrified Raphael.
“I’m waiting,” he said, trying to remain calm, while feeling anything but.
She sighed. “No, you didn’t, but I was at a clear disadvantage. One you were more than happy to press.”
“Disadvantage?” Raphael snorted in derision. “Was this before or after you tried to kill me?”
“I was doing my job,” she snapped, but her voice cracked, giving way to nervousness.
“So was I,” he grit out. “I recall subduing you with minimal force. As for the rest, I believe we both achieved mutual satisfaction, or were you screaming my name for show?”
Catherine crossed her arms over her ample chest. “There’s no need for vulgarity.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who accused me of rape.”
“I did no such thing. All I said was that you had the advantage. You are a vampire after all.”
He threw his arms up in frustration. “It was daylight. I had very little sunscreen on. My skin was frying and my strength was compromised.” Raphael waved his hand in the air. “You’ll forgive me if I disagree with your assessment.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
“Juan and Takeo seem to think that I should let you go.” He wasn’t about to tell her they’d wanted her dead.
“You should listen to them,” she said. “It’ll go easier on you during your tribunal sentencing.”
Raphael’s brows rose to his hairline. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that to happen,” he said casually. He caught the fear in her eyes before she masked it and immediately set out to reassure her. “Don’t be ridiculous, woman. I have no plans to harm you.”
“You threatened to kill me,” Catherine said. This time she sounded petulant...and utterly adorable.
“And you tried to kill me,” Raphael said. “I’d say that makes us even.”
She glowered. “I was drugged with influ-gas and given orders I couldn’t resist.”
“Are you sure it’s out of your system?” he asked.
Her forehead crinkled. It was easy to read her concern, but Catherine ignored the question. “You kidnapped me. Tied me to a chair and seduced me, then spent the week doing more of the same.”
“I detained you for murdering several people and trying to frame Red. Not to mention killing any Other you happened to find. As for the rest, I was distracting you from your mission.” He smirked. “And doing a fine job of it. I think.”
“Distracting me! Of all the arrogant, self-centered, egotistical things I have ever heard, that one takes the synth-tart.” She scowled. “I didn’t have control of my actions when I killed those people. Had I been in my right mind, I never would’ve tried to frame Gina Santiago. She’s the commander’s granddaughter. It would be career suicide.”
“Can you prove it?” Raphael watched her closely. “I mean if you could, then I’m sure Commander Robert Santiago would be more than happy to listen.”
Catherine huffed. “Did you not hear a word I said?”
“I heard you clearly. Now answer the question,” he said.
Catherine’s expression soured a second before her body sagged against the headboard. “No,” she muttered, then her chin rose in defiance. “Can you prove that I did?”
Raphael shook his head. He was enjoying their bickering far too much. He kept his expression bland. “No, but that does put us in a similar bind, you and I.”
She scowled. “How do you figure?”
“You claim that I kidnapped you. I don’t see it that way,” he said. “I was protecting the alpha and his mate. I know that you murdered those men. I saw it in your mind the second I tasted your tainted blood. Then there’s the little fact that you tried to kill me.”
“But—” she said.
He held up his hand. “I’m not finished,” Raphael said. “You claim diminished capacity. Perhaps a few of the tribunal members will take pity on you and believe you, but I wouldn’t count on it since the influ-gas isn’t detectable in your system. The tribunal must uphold the law for the sake of the republics. Add in the fact that Gina Santiago is the IPTT commander’s granddaughter and it doesn’t look good for either of us.”
She crossed her arms. “They won’t believe a vamp,” Catherine said confidently.
“Silly girl, vampires don’t exist.” Raphael grinned, flashing his fangs. “Do you really want to stand before a tribunal and blame an imaginary creature for all your woes? You’d have to reveal the little secret you’ve been keeping in order to prove it.”
Catherine chewed on her bottom lip, drawing Raphael’s eyes away from her troubled gaze. He’d kissed those lips, drank from the sweetness like a man lost in the desert.
Raphael had never thought anything could taste better than blood, but that changed the second he parted her thighs. And he’d do so again, despite her claims otherwise.
She couldn’t deny what had occurred between them, what was occurring between them right now. If the sexual tension in the room got much worse, they’d both combust.
“Would you out me?” Catherine’s green eyes widened and she drew into herself.
“I wouldn’t have to reveal your secrets,” he said.
She’d do that herself by talking. She must’ve realized the same thing because her expression turned bleak.
“Can’t we make a deal?” she asked after a moment of silence.
Raphael glanced at his hands and made a show of thinking about it. “Depends,” he said. “What do you have in mind?”
“You let me go and I forget all about the whole kidnapping thing.”
“That sounds reasonable, but do you think kidnapping—which you can’t prove—is comparable to murder? Seems like I’m on the losing end of this deal.” He stepped closer to the rest pad.
Catherine sighed loudly. “Shouldn’t Roark Montgomery factor into all this? I mean, he’s the one who gassed me with Scarlet and sent me on my murderous rampage. I wouldn’t have done any of that without the influence of the mind control drug. And let’s not forget, he imprisoned your friends. I’d say the blame rests firmly on his shoulders.”
Rage boiled inside him. “Roark will be dealt with, but not until we can prove Red’s and Morgan’s innocence.” His voice was cold enough to freeze the air around them. “Until then, it’s just you left to hang in the desert wind for his deeds. Your only option is for us to work together.”
“Terrific.” She snarled. “What do you want me to do, since I obviously have no choice?” Catherine clasped the sheet tighter and scrambled to the edge of the rest pad.
“Everyone has a choice, including you,” he said, tonguing the tip of his incisor. Raphael needed her help. Catherine could get into IPTT headquarters. She could meet with the commander and ask for his assistance, if need be.
“Not this time.” She shivered under his regard.
Raphael assumed the action was based on fear, until he inhaled and the scent of ripe, moist woman surrounded him. He wanted to shout in triumph, but he didn’t dare.
Instead, Raphael swallowed hard and shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. “That is a matter of perception,” he said.
“Are you going to tell me what you want me to do or do I have to guess?” she asked.
“So cute, but so short tempered,” he said. “You must’ve been a handful for your parents.”
For a second, Catherine looked pained. He wasn’t sure what he’d said to upset her, but Raphael had no doubt he’d struck a chord. Her hurt expression vanished, quickly replaced with a dagger-shooting glare.
“I’m waiting.” Her tiny foot tapped the floor.
“I’ll tell you what I want. I want you to help me clear Red and Morgan’s names and help me locate them.” Raphael’s gaze flicked to the thin material covering her. “But first, I want you to lose the sheet.”
Raphael’s smile turned feral. He flashed both fangs, then took a step forward. Chaos had no doubt he’d done it on purpose.
The move should’ve repulsed her, but instead, it ignited her blood. She hadn’t expected the quiver of anticipation to course through her body or the rush of renewed heat that moistened her core.
Damn him.
After she’d discovered that he’d locked her in the room, Chaos had promised herself she wouldn’t sleep with him again—no matter how pleasurable she’d found it to be. And it had been pleasurable. She’d never experienced anything like their lovemaking. It took great sex to a level few could achieve.
Her anger was why she’d implied that he hadn’t gotten her consent when he’d seduced her a week ago. But the truth was that she’d allowed the seduction to go ahead. Partly out of curiosity and partly out of need.
Raphael had intrigued Chaos from the beginning. When they’d met, she’d only given him a taste of what she could do. He still didn’t understand how powerful she was. Had she wanted him to stop, Chaos would’ve simply used her powers to melt his brain.
Just because she’d decided not to kill him, didn’t mean that she trusted him. Of course, there was no telling her body that. The demands it was making couldn’t be ignored for long.
Chaos glanced down in time to see the sheet hit the floor. She glared at Raphael, but he hadn’t moved. She’d been the one to discard the material.
His black eyes simmered with hunger, scorching her flesh wherever they roved. Her nipples hardened under his perusal, turning a bright rose.
Raphael grasped his shirt and pulled it over his head.
The man was magnificent, long and solid with dark, brooding looks that drew her. She’d never known anyone so comfortable in his sexuality. He had every right to feel so given his talent in the carnal arts.
Raphael had brought her to release three times with his mouth and tongue before he’d ever entered her. And from the look on his face, he planned to do it again and again, even though he had nothing to prove and everything to lose.
Chaos squeezed her thighs together and kept her expression blank. She didn’t want him to know how much she wanted this. Wanted him. A girl could get addicted if she wasn’t careful.
She’d entered Nuria with no clue that Others existed. Now Chaos was willingly giving herself to a vampire. She should be committed.
Most people would be screaming right about now, but not her. No, she went looking for trouble and had found it—all six foot two of it.
He tongued his fangs sensually and she felt her neck and thigh tingle where he’d bitten her earlier. This was so wrong. Wanting him was wrong. The logical side of her knew that, but the tactile being didn’t care. It wanted another taste of this man, this creature, who could infuriate her one minute and made her crave him the next.
What was the matter with her? She couldn’t be thinking clearly.
Chaos needed some space. Yep, that would take care of everything. She opened her mouth to tell him no. In the same moment, Raphael dropped his pants, revealing his straining erection. Veins corded the thick length, leading up and up to a flushed crown. Her mouth went dry.
Nope, nothing to prove.
It would be easy to blame Raphael for the predicament Chaos found herself in, but he hadn’t been there the day she went to Roark Montgomery’s office with Lieutenant Bannon Richards. She’d gone on her own accord.
Raphael also hadn’t drugged her with influ-gas and programmed her to kill. That had been Roark, too. And he wasn’t forcing her now to lie back on the rest pad and open her legs in preparation for him. Nope, she was doing that all on her own.
He gave her a triumphant grin as he slid inside her. He’d won this round and he knew it.
6
The sun rose less than thirty minutes ago and already Michael could feel his brain baking inside his skull. Sizzle. Pop. He didn’t know how far he’d walked since crossing the boundary fence. Probably not far. Too bad his body didn’t agree.
It felt weighted, sucked down by the sand pooling around his feet. For all his strength, there was an underlying frailty. Even without the chip in his frontal lobe to remind him.
He gazed out at the barren abyss. Miles and miles of sand and not a drop to drink. It stretched as far as the eye could see. He glanced down. Footprints were impossible to follow. The sand swallowed them up, always greedy for more.
Michael inhaled. Hot air singed his nostrils, burning his sinuses. Red and Morgan’s wolf scent remained elusive. Like the sand and the sun, the air’s aroma toyed with him, whispering promises it had no intention to keep.
A shadow slipped past Michael in his peripheral vision. He turned, but there was nothing there beyond vast emptiness. There was never anything there, yet Michael continued to see them. The shadows followed him, waiting like vultures for him to drop so they could pounce and pick his bones clean.
Once again Michael wondered if he should make it easy on them. The vampire inside of him roared in defiance.
“Stay the fuck away from me.” He swung his fist wildly, connecting with nothing but hot air.
Michael refused to sit down. That’s what the shadows wanted. He’d be damned if he would give in. His gaze locked on the horizon. Waves of heat rode the dunes, surfing them into oblivion. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
“Where are you?” he shouted.
He’d put out the bounty just like Roark had asked. Michael hadn’t wanted to do it, but he’d had no choice. Roark would’ve found out had he not and he would’ve pressed the button. Couldn’t afford for him to press the button again. The button was bad. Bad button. Made Michael hurt.
He needed to get the chip out. That was the only way to prevent the pain and madness from taking over. He could feel the chip digging in, anchoring itself somehow.
Michael clawed at his skin until blood ran down his face, blinding him. It was no use. The bone wouldn’t give. The only way he’d succeed was if he found Morgan and Red first. Then, and only then, would Roark remove the blasted chip.
Michael stumbled and dropped to his knees. For a second his hands looked as if they’d been dipped into a scarlet puddle. Splashy. Splashy. Licky. Licky. He blinked, clearing the mirage. All that remained was dried blood.
Fighting the urge to shove his fingers in his mouth and suckle, Michael forced himself to stand. He needed to find shelter before the sun evaporated the last of his sanity. His clothes wouldn’t protect him during the worst heat of the day, not with his telekinetic power drained.
Scanning the area, Michael spotted a dark mass in the distance. He couldn’t tell what it was from here, but anything beat the endless sand.
Forging on, Michael climbed dune after dune until he lost count. The dark form was beginning to take shape now. At least he hoped it was. He couldn’t afford for his shelter to be a figment of his imagination.
The sand continued to talk to him. It beaconed him to rest, like a siren luring weary sailors to their death. Michael plugged his ears and screamed to drown out its insidious voice.
Not much farther now.
He was almost there.
Michael could see the rock up ahead, its corpulent noggin protruding from the sand in defiance. A giggle burst from his parched throat, morphing into a hacking cough.
He threw himself against the rock grateful for the tiniest increment of shade. Michael patted the giant mammoth and crooned to it, stroking its hard surface.
So pretty and welcoming, almost like it had been left here for him.
He plopped down, putting his back against the rock face and dug into his pack for the canteen. The water did little to quench his thirst. Only fresh blood could do that now.
Michael decided to wait here and rest until evening came. The dark would make traveling much easier. His only hope was that Morgan and Red would do the same. It was the only way he’d eventually catch up to them.
7
“I’m going to take you back to International Police Tactical Team headquarters today.” Raphael buttoned his shirt, then fastened his pants.
Chaos put aside her breakfast and looked at him unsure she’d heard him correctly. “Why?” Suspicion clung to the word. There had to be a reason for his sudden change of heart.
“It’s what you wanted. Or have you changed your mind?” Irritation grated his voice as he yanked his dark hair back into a tight, painful-looking queue.
She shook her head. “No, I haven’t changed my mind. I need to get back to IPTT before they send a team after me. I’m just curious, what changed your mind?”
Raphael’s jaw clenched. “Just be happy I did. Do I need to remind you about our agreement?”
Ah, so that’s why he was letting her go. Chaos’ heart sank. She’d hoped it was because he was developing feelings for her, not because she’d agreed to help him. Chaos had even convinced herself that she’d seen more than passion burning in his dark eyes on a couple of occasions. She should’ve known better.
