The words were very domesticated. The man moving around her kitchen wasn't. She could see the tense lines of his shoulders, the prepared readiness of his body. He was on full alert.
He poured her coffee and sat it on the table, waving at her to sit down before he turned back to the counter. As she watched him and sipped the dark liquid, he put together a quick meal of eggs, sausage and toast. Eating was a silent affair as Megan fought to find balance. Again.
She could handle the danger. The chase the day before had been exhilarating, despite the chances of death. Pitting her wits against those
bigger and tougher than she was and coming out on the winning team was a high she found she craved. But that dream had thrown her as nothing else had so far. The knowledge that someone she knew could kill so cruelly was tearing her apart.
"I need to dress." She pushed her plate back, satisfied that she had nearly finished the huge portion he had put out for her.
"Go on. Shower while you're at it." He nodded to the doorway. "I'll make a few more calls and we'll go through the pictures when you come back down."
"You're trying to protect me." She sighed wearily as she came to her feet, staring back at him as he came toward
her. She watched his expression closely as he reached out, his fingers caressing her cheek.
"A different sort of protection," he assured her gently, his voice rumbling with emotion. "I can feel your confusion; hell, I can see it. And your pain. It_" His gaze flickered with a small amount of his own confusion.
"It affects me, Megan. I would kill to hold back what I see haunting your eyes. It breaks my heart."
He was breaking her heart. Her throat tightened at the emotion in his
voice, the sincerity. The bonds holding them to each other were only deepening. Tightening. And rather than running as she had always done in the past, she wanted nothing more than to rest in his arms. Just one more time, before fate had a chance to tear him away from her.
The thought of that terrified her.
She nodded without speaking and escaped. She needed silence. She needed to feel alone, unwatched. She needed a shower, because as sure as she was standing there, she had finally realized why the grief from that female Breed, Aimee, had been so strong. And it made her sick to the very core of her soul, because she was terribly afraid she wasn't wrong about the face materializing in her memory.
Mac Cooley. Her father's best friend. And Aimee's rapist as well as, most likely, the reason for her death.
Chapter Nineteen
He could feel her crying.
Braden stood at the kitchen counter, his arms braced on the edge, his head hanging low as he fought the tightness in his chest.
She was breaking his heart and she didn't even know it.
Hell, he hadn't imagined this could happen, but he could feel her pain. There were no blocks, no shields strong enough to allow him to escape it. Just as he had felt her elation, her triumph during the chase the day before, now he felt her grief,
He had never allowed himself to let others' emotions in. Staying separate, keeping that part of him unhindered had been imperative if he was going to survive in a world where littermates were killed in front of your eyes, and depravity was the norm rather than the unusual.
But he couldn't escape his mate.
Whatever the dream had been, it was such a shock to her mind that recovering from it was now taking all her strength.
He had felt her need to escape him, the need for silence, and had allowed it. This had been hard enough on her, but now that the truth was so near. she was off balance, unwilling to accept whatever truths she had been shown.
An Empath's dreams were rarely pretty. No matter how hard one tried to block the darkest parts of a human's thoughts and fears, it never fully worked. At least, not for a human Empath. The natural shields the Breeds had been born with, courtesy of their animal DNA, changed the rules just a bit for them. Megan had none of those natural blocks. Her senses were getting stronger though.
She had become aware of the eyes watching the house as she stared beyond the window, whereas before she had been blessedly ignorant of them. And Braden had allowed that ignorance, certain it would serve her better to be comfortable rather than always on guard.
He grimaced tightly as he fought to keep from going to her. It was a wasted battle and he knew it. He could no more keep from attempting to comfort her than he could keep from breathing.
He pulled his cell phone from the holder at his side and quickly punched in the secured line to the team leader outside.
'Tarek." The voice that came over the line was a surprise. "Your ass should be back in Fayetteville." Braden smiled. "Keeping your mate warm. Does she know you're playing?"
Tarek laughed. Laughter was something he had rarely heard from the other man until he found his mate.
"She's safe and sound with her family at Sanctuary visiting with Callan's and Taber's wives while the brothers coordinate with the security forces there."
"In other words, no," Braden retorted. "She'll skin you when she finds out."
"We're heading back with you when Jonas arrives tonight. She'll forgive me." His voice held the confidence of a man well loved by his woman.
"You hope." Braden grunted. "Cover the house tight until further notice. If the watchers make a move, we'll need a good five-minute head start if possible."
"We'll spread back and take post above then." Tarek's voice firmed as the Breed commander slid easily into place.
"Be on call by nightfall though. I have a bad feeling the closer it gets."
Yeah, so did he. Enough so that he was close to disobeying Jonas's direct command to stay put until the helijet arrived.
"We'll be fully prepared to move if needed by nightfall."
He finally sighed. Town was a bad idea. Drawing innocents into the crossfire was not a reasonable solution.
He disconnected, slid the phone back into its holder and made his way up the stairs. Each step brought him closer to the threads of mental pain he could feel emanating from his mate.
His mate.
God had gifted him with something so precious, so pure, he was terrified of seeing it broken. He now understood why Megan's family gathered around her, fighting to protect her, to keep the evil of the world from touching her.
She was like a breath of spring. of hope. She had blown into his life, his heart, and stolen any chance he had of defending himself against her.
He had never thought he had a weakness before; now he knew he did. He had never believed he could find the strength he needed outside himself. Now he knew he had been wrong. Megan was his weakness, but she was also his strength.
He pushed open the bedroom door and undressed silently before padding to the bathroom. The door wasn't locked and opened easily beneath his hand. The sound of the shower running should have drowned out her sobs. The smell of chlorinated water should have covered the salty scent
of her tears. But it didn't.
He stepped to the tub, pulling back the shower curtain slowly and staring in at her. She had known he was there.
She was fighting for composure, to rein in the tears, the pain.
"I'm sorry." Her voice was husky, endearing in the strength he saw.
"For what?" he whispered as he shut off the water, pulling her to him. He took a towel from the rack on the wall and helped her step from the tub.
"For feeling? Or for being strong enough to cry when others can't?"
He had never cried.
She gazed back at him. The blue of her eyes, as deep as the oceans they reminded him of, stared back at him from within her dusky skin. The sodden silk of her hair hung down her back, nearly brushing her hips. He began to dry her slowly. He wrapped the midnight tresses in another towel, then worked to dry the moisture from her body.
She was exquisite. Her body was shaped by nature, with smooth female muscle beneath her silken flesh. Enduring.
She curved where she should in her full breasts, the perfect size to fill a
man's hands. Her flared hips, which his hands cupped easily to hold her in place beneath his thrusting body. Her tummy, slightly rounded, smooth and shimmering with a life all its own.
His palm flattened over it as he marveled at the differences between his rougher, tough flesh and the soft burnished silk of hers.
One day, his child could rest there, he thought. Despite the scientists repeated attempts to force conception, they had never managed to achieve it through the more accepted means. A Breed female could not conceive without Mating.
A Breed male did not develop semen compatible to breeding without Mating. And Mating required something those bastard scientists hadn't believed in: a bonding. The coming together of two halves of a whole. The Breeds had been blessed by nature in a way a normal human being was never certain of-the assurance that that one man or woman was meant for them and them alone. Then nature had played a trump card no one could have expected. Only through the Mating could conception occur.
Braden closed his eyes as he felt her fingers in his hair, combing through the strands, stroking his scalp. The sensation sent pleasure racing through his body. Her lips were damp, parted, waiting for his kiss.
He licked at the silken curves, catching her gasp as his hands smoothed
up her back. His fingers relished the feel of satiny skin as they moved along her side, smoothed over the golden globes of her breasts and whispered across her nipples.
Her response was immediate, hot. A small moan drifted past his lips, spearing straight to his cock as it jerked in demanding hunger.
Braden allowed a small smile to tip his lips as he turned her, backing her against the sink counter before gripping her hips and lifting her until her rear settled against the cool top.
Her eyes widened.
"Spread your legs for me." He knelt before her, propping her small feet against his shoulders as his palm pressed against her stomach. "Lean back, baby. Let me have my dessert. Sweet, soft cream, just the way I like it."
His tongue licked up the small parted slit, his taste buds exploding with the taste of spicy sweetness as her hands clenched in his hair.
"This is so depraved." A small, arousal-filled sigh whispered around him as his tongue circled her clit.
The swollen little bud was so responsive that each lick around it sent her
inner juices flowing against his fingers as he massaged the sensitive entrance.
"Uh-uh." He growled. "We haven't gotten to depraved yet."
"We haven’t? She gasped as he worked one finger inside the small entrance of her pussy, stroking the tight little muscles that gripped the digit so erotically.
"Hmm, not yet." He pursed his lips and kissed her little slit slowly.
Her hips jerked as her thighs tightened, a needy little cry leaving her lips. God, she tasted sweet. And so fucking hot. He let his tongue circle the swollen bud, feeling the small, shivery little pulses of response as he lingered against it before suckling at it lightly.
She was breathing harder now, but hell, so was he.
As he caressed her clit, his finger delved into her pussy, rubbing, stroking, finding all the soft little spots that made her gasp, made those hot little moans leave her throat as she begged for more.
As he began to work another finger inside her, he suckled harder, feeling her orgasm building as her pussy clenched and spasmed around his finger. Damn, pleasuring her was mind-blowing. Hearing those hot little moans, feeling her tighten, hearing her beg. It went to his head like a
narcotic, knowing he could make her lose herself in his touch.
But he lost himself in her touch as well. Her fingers gripping his hair, stroking his neck. Her thighs pressing against his cheek, holding him in place as he pushed her closer to the release she was reaching so desperately for.
Her cream flowed from her. It made his fingers slick as he worked them deeper, stroking her, building the heat raging inside her body. Her hips began to writhe, raking her clit harder against his tongue as he sucked at the little bud.