Yet faster than she could blink, she found herself flat on her back on the bed. Again. Blast it. She fought him, struggling with every ounce of strength she possessed. This was too much. Too much.
She reached for his sunglasses, intending to dig her fingers into his eyes and blind him, but he reared back out of her reach before she touched them. He grabbed her wrists and pulled them over her head, pinning them. Then he landed on the bed beside her, rolled onto his side, and pinned her legs to the mattress with one hard thigh.
“Let me go!”
“So you can claw my eyes out? I don’t think so.”
He grabbed her jaw with his free hand and kissed her.
She bit him. The taste of his blood ripped her back to her senses. Stupid, Delaney. Stupid, stupid move to risk setting him off again.
But to her amazement, he laughed, the sound rich and warm. Disturbingly nice. Then he bent his head and placed a kiss on her temple as gentle as a raindrop and lifted his head to look down at her, licking the blood from his lip.
She stared at him. “I don’t understand you.”
A half smile lifted his lips. “I’m not surprised. Fortunately, I do understand you.”
She grunted with disdain. “Hardly.”
“I know just how to make you mad, don’t I? And anger is so much more pleasant than fear, isn’t it, brown eyes?”
He leaned down to kiss her cheek as she stared at the darkened ceiling, speechless.
“You meant to make me mad?”
“It worked.” She heard the shrug in his voice, then shivered as his tongue stroked her ear.
But her anger only spiked all over again. At him for saying the things that had cut her to the quick. And at herself for letting them bother her so much she’d lost control and tried to attack him again.
“I hate you.”
“I’m aware of that.” With the hand not holding her wrists, he pushed the lace cup of her bra down over her nipple, freeing her breast to his warm touch, then took the bare flesh into his mouth.
She gasped at the feel as desire sparked and flared, feeding her anger. She hated this control he had over her body. With his superior strength, all he had to do was lift an arm, and she was flat on her back. All he had to do was touch her, and she melted like butter in the sun. He made her sick. He made her want to…
She arched off the bed in pure pleasure as his tongue twirled slowly around her nipple.
“Oh, God, don’t stop.”
With a last, soft suckle, he released her breast and blew, chilling the wet peak before he turned to its mate, freed it, and pulled the aching, needy flesh into his mouth. She felt his fingers slide once more down the plane of her stomach and into her pants. Though her mind rebelled, her body wanted this. Desperately.
The weight of his thigh lifted, his leg curling around hers and giving a gentle tug, spreading her thighs for his seeking finger. She jerked as the pad of his finger stroked her clit, then gasped as it slid farther, deep into her heat. With a groan of pure need, she bucked, swallowing him deeper into the liquid fire he’d set ablaze inside her.
How could he do this to her? What was it about him that the simple feel of his mouth on her breasts nearly brought her to climax? Never had she gone so over the top with a man. Any man. She’d only had sex three times in her life, with two different partners, because it was so damned boring.
Even sex with this guy’s finger was enough to turn her into a panting, raving, lunatic. If he ever pushed his cock inside her…
Just the thought of it nearly made her come.
“Look at me, brown eyes.”
She opened her eyes, not remembering having closed them, and looked at the dark line of his sunglasses.
A rush of warmth flooded her mind, a hot wind on a roaring flame, turning her body into a superheated bonfire. Her hips rocked against his hand, desperate for more. She needed…she needed…
The orgasm broke over her in an explosion of light and pleasure so sharp it was like nothing she’d ever felt, hurtling her into a rainbow of colors and ecstasy. As she rode the explosion, her body bucked wildly, forcing that finger deeper, deeper.
Her eyes started to roll back in her head.
“Look at me, Delaney. Look at me!”
She did, somehow knowing she met his gaze through those sunglasses. Something happened. A hot pressure gripped her head, a sharp pain that was gone almost before it registered, disappearing in the clenching spasms of release.
Slowly, the pleasure eased, and her body floated downward. Her hips ceased their rocking, and she lay beside the man, trying to catch her breath even as his finger continued to play with her wetness.
As the roaring pleasure eased, she became aware of a strange sensation inside her head, like the soft brush of angel’s wings against the inner walls of her skull whispering impressions into her mind. He wasn’t the killer. He didn’t kill needlessly. He was honorable. Fine. And very, very dangerous.
Honorable, the wings whispered. Trust him.
She looked up at him, exhausted and confused. “I don’t even know your name.”
“I’m Tighe.”
“What have you done to me?”
“Nothing for you to be worried about. Now go to sleep, Delaney.”
And just like that, she did.
Chapter Seven
“It’s about damned time,” Tighe muttered as he slowly withdrew his finger from the woman’s hot depths. Sweet nature, what she did to him. He was shaking with the need to finish what he’d started with her, to push inside her with the part of his anatomy made for the purpose. A part of him that was more than up for the task.
But he was not a man who took advantage of women. At least not more than he absolutely had to.
Not even human women. Especially not human women.
He sucked the honey from his finger, groaning at the perfection of her taste. What was it about her that turned him inside out? Was it this odd connection they’d formed through his clone? Or was it the excitement of the unknown? An unknown he hadn’t experienced in a good long while?
The only women he allowed himself to have sex with were Therians, and he’d known most of them for centuries. Delaney Randall was new to him. Young and exciting. And human, dammit. Completely and totally off-limits. He hadn’t gotten involved with a human since Gretchen. And he never would again.
But, goddess, Delaney Randall was a beauty. He gazed down at her face, at her slender nose and full, ripe mouth as his thumb brushed the silken skin covering one high cheekbone. The longing to taste her again almost overpowered him.
What was she doing to him?
He needed to get her out of his life, fast, before he lost what little control he still possessed and pushed inside her, becoming a slave to this need for her until he destroyed them both.
Now that he’d finally, finally, captured control of her mind, it should only be a short while before he was through with her. He’d felt the catch, though not in the usual way. He hadn’t been certain he really did have her mind until he’d ordered her to go to sleep, and she had. The connection lingered inside his head, like a pleasurable warmth fanning the insides of his skull. Odd. But nothing with this woman had been normal.
All that mattered was she was his, finally. He should be able to root around in her mind and figure out how to free her of those visions. Once he’d disconnected her from the clone, it should be a simple matter to steal her memories of him as well. Meanwhile, the Delaney Randall who’d turned him inside out was gone. For the moment.
For him.
Ridiculous to feel regret at the thought.
No, this was the way it had to be. He’d keep her calm and semicomatose until one of them got another vision, then he’d take it from there.
But as he stroked her finely shaped brow with his thumb, he couldn’t help the feeling of inexplicable loss. He was going to miss her fire and strength, her cunning and intelligence, and even the shadows in her eyes that spoke of loss and called to something deep inside him.
She would still be pretty to look at, but it was the fire that burned within her that made her truly beautiful. A fire gone cold, until he released her mind again. He was sorry for that. But there was neither reason nor time to delay the inevitable. With a sigh, he lifted a lock of her hair, the soft, dark wave sliding between his fingers.
“Wake up, Delaney.”
Instantly, her dark lashes swept up, revealing eyes filled with confusion.
“You don’t remember anything that happened after the cat ran into your apartment last night,” he said softly.
Her head turned to him, her eyes narrowing. “O-kay.”
His hand froze on her hair as he stared at her, blinking. Shit. Shit. He hadn’t gotten control of her mind at all. Yet he had connected with it. Staring into her eyes he could almost see the gossamer thread, running between them, fanning the warmth in his head.
Outrage barreled through him. Every time he tried to control her, something else went wrong. He flung himself off the bed and strode to the wall, barely keeping himself from slamming his fist through the plasterboard. He not only had to seize control of her mind, but now he had to break this unholy connection.
He whirled to find her sitting up.
How could he not have her mind? She’d gone to sleep and wakened on cue. Unless…
“Lie down,” he barked. And she did. Instantly. “Sit up.” She jerked upright as if pulled by an unseen cord.
“Stop it!” she cried. “How are you doing this?”
He seemed to have gotten control of her body and not her mind. How in the hell had that happened? And what good did it do? He needed to keep her from remembering him!
“Lie down.”
She fell back, mouth wide with disbelief, eyes filled with terror as she struggled to move, but he’d told her to lie down, and that was all she could do.
“What have you done to me?”
He smiled bitterly. “It seems I’ve got you under my control, Agent Randall. Just not the way I wanted, dammit.”
He saw the realization in her eyes, the understanding of just how vulnerable she really was. Raw, icy fear rolled across his tongue, hurling him back to another time. In his mind, he saw Gretchen, his beloved Gretchen, her eyes wide with terror.
She should have known. She should have known.
At the hated taste on his tongue, fury ripped through him, tearing him loose from his control. He felt the burn of his claws unsheathing, the ache of his fangs getting ready to drop.
Not now. Not now.
He longed to hurt her, to punish her for her fear. For her betrayal. She’d destroyed him. Taken everything from him, everything that had ever mattered.
For a second, his mind cleared. He was staring at Delaney, not Gretchen. Delaney.
Desperately, he tried to wrench back control. But it was too late. Too late.
“Close your eyes and stay there!” He whirled away from her as the chaos swept him into that place of fury and violence, a place where he was neither man nor beast, yet utterly inhuman. As he lifted the chest of drawers and slammed it against the wall, shattering the mirror, the chaos swept him away.
The sound of shattering glass tore through Delaney’s eardrums as she lay, stuck to the bed, unable to open her eyes. Unable to move.
This is not happening. It is not happening!
Pieces of furniture crashed against one another, wood splintering, glass shattering. And she couldn’t move to get out of the way.
She struggled to sit up, grinding her elbows into the mattress as she pushed with all her strength, but it was as if an invisible hand held her down.
Her mouth went dry. Good God, she had to get out of there.
What has he done to me?
He had to be using some kind of mind-control drug on her. Twice now, he’d knocked her out. And just before he’d put her to sleep the second time, she’d had this strange urge to trust him. Mind control. With a sudden certainty, she knew he was no run-of-the-mill psychopath. There was more going on here. Much more.
But why experiment on a federal agent? Unless…
The answer, so obvious, chilled her to the marrow of her bones. She had access to information, to places, to people, most never would. He could turn her into the ultimate terrorists’ weapon. Until her fellow agents killed her. Then he’d simply kidnap another.
The ramifications reverberated through her head. The lives that would be lost. The lives he’d force her to take.
I have to get out of here.
If she could escape before the drug fully wore off, while it was still in her blood, the lab might be able to identify it. They might be able to create an antidote. Or even find a way to duplicate it.
Except she couldn’t escape. She couldn’t even move!
He’d lost it. Completely. Even before he’d turned into Olaf the Berserker, she’d felt it, as if the storm swirling inside him were visible.
Had he, too, been experimenting with the drug? Was that to be her destiny?
A new sound burst into the room. “Tighe!” a man shouted as, closer by, strong arms lifted her.
“Let’s get you out of here,” a deeply masculine voice said.
“I’m all for that.”
The man carried her from the destruction zone to lay her on what felt like a sofa in another room. “Are you injured?”
“No. He did something to me before he turned crazy. I can’t move. I can’t even open my eyes.”
“Interesting. Stay here.”
“That’s what they all say,” Delaney muttered, then lay there listening to the sound of fighting like nothing she’d ever heard. Thudding, snarling, slashing. Like they’d turned into animals or something. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or dismayed to learn there were more of them.
“Get off me.” Tighe’s deep growl carried to where she lay. “The woman?”