"Kye, now is not—" I said.
"There is no better time," he cut in ruthlessly. "No one takes what is mine. No one."
I'll never be yours, I wanted to say, but the words died in my throat as the force of his need hit.
That need was as much about control as it was desire.
He kicked the door shut and strode over to me. Then his fingers were tangling themselves in my hair and his lips crushed mine, kissing me savagely as my hands found their way to the waist of his jeans, undoing the button and zip before thrusting them down his hips.
Then he was in me, claiming me, and it felt glorious. Because this was real and solid, a meeting of flesh and soul—even if the man now claiming me was as unwanted as Starke had been.
He fucked me more fully and more savagely than Starke had, and it felt so damn right tears stung my eyes. I came seconds before him, my body shuddering and twisting as his body spasmed and the hot flush of his seed flooded into me.
Then there was nothing but utter exhaustion.
He rested his forehead against mine, his fingers still locked in my hair and his harsh breathing searing my lips. Slowly, surely, my breath and my thoughts steadied, and I found the strength to ask, "Why aren't Starke's men battering down the door after that gunshot?"
He finally released his grip on my hair, sliding them down to my hips instead, holding me firmly against him. The wolf wasn't finished with me yet, apparently. But then, I'd learned last night he had an amazing recovery rate and a huge sexual appetite. And while I might not want him in my life, he was still my soul mate, and I couldn't deny just how good it felt to be locked against him like this.
"Because I told them the Directorate was on the way, and if they valued their lives, they'd get the hell out of here."
I raised an eyebrow. "And they believed you?"
"Why wouldn't they?" He began to rock gently, his body continuing to harden inside of mine. Part of me wanted to slap him away, and part of me wanted to use every inch of him to erase every second of my time with Starke. "You were already here and, for all they knew, it could have been the first part of a plan."
It made sense, and yet…
I don't what it was, but something niggled. Intuition didn't believe him, and I couldn't ignore it.
"But that makes no sense." I paused, my breath catching in my throat, as his cock—once again hard—slid so very deep inside, sending a wave of pleasure rolling across my body. I licked my lips, and somehow said, "As far as they're concerned, you could be just another crackpot trying to cause mischief."
"They thought I was an angry husband." His words were distracted. "I had to use some excuse to get upstairs and plant the bugs."
Again, that was plausible, and yet my antenna twitched. "Why would Starke let you up there and yet meet me downstairs?"
"He didn't. I bribed the barman and several security guards to give me five minutes."
My mind was having a hard time concentrating against the delicious assault on my body. And yet I couldn't quite let the questions go. That would be giving in totally to the needs of my body and I'd done enough of that for one day.
"You shouldn't have killed Starke. We needed to question him about his partner—"
The words died as his lips crushed mine, ending all attempts on my part to continue the conversation.
I conceded defeat and closed my eyes, enjoying his caresses and kisses, until the slow burn of desire exploded and we came once again.
He kissed me a final time, soft and lingering, then said, "He needed to die for what he was doing."
"Kye, he was only fucking me. In the larger scheme of things, that really didn't matter."
Anger spurted, spinning around me, a firestorm that would not be tamed. "He wasn't just fucking you," he said, his golden eyes flashing. "He was taking what was mine, and he was draining you."
"I was dealing with it—"
"Yeah," he exploded. "I felt how you were dealing with it. Believe me, I wasn't impressed."
"He didn't end up with a knife in his back through magic," I retorted, and thrust a hand against his chest, trying to push him away from me.
He tightened his grip on my thighs and didn't budge. "I warned him," he growled. "I told him not to—"
He stopped.
Oh my God, I thought.
Not only had I been soundly fucked by one murdering son of a bitch today, but two.
"Come alone," he said, and before the meaning of his words had even really registered, his fist smashed into my jaw.
I was unconscious before my head hit the desk.
Chapter Twelve
I was awoken by the sensation of ice pressing against my jaw. It wasn't helping the ache in my face much, but at least it meant there was someone present who cared enough to try.
The sunshiny scent that teased my nostril told me it was Kade, but the musky scents that were entwined within his also said that he wasn't alone. As did the murmur of conversation.
Kye wasn't here. His scent still was, but the heated, tingly awareness that always hit when he was close was absent.
He'd obviously run.
Part of me hoped he ran far and fast, because then I wouldn't have to deal with him.
But the other part—the part so angry about being so completely fooled and used—wanted the chance to confront him.
To get her own back.
To ask why.
The surface under my hips was soft, not the hard wood of the desk, and the slide of material against my skin told me I was no longer almost naked.
I opened my eyes. Kade was kneeling down in front of me, holding the ice pack to my decidedly tender jaw. Behind him, Cole and Dusty were examining Starke's remains.
"The cavalry arrives," I commented, wincing as the mere act of speaking had pain flickering along my jaw. Not that it would actually stop me. I flicked my tongue across the left side—one lose tooth and several others feeling as bruised as my jaw. "But it arrives too late, as usual."
"Well, you will get yourself into situations where the cavalry has no option but to arrive late," Cole commented. "Next time, give us a little warning and we'll be on time."
"I'll try and remember that," I said wryly, and pushed upright. Aside from the sore jaw, I was actually feeling pretty good. But then, good sex and multiple orgasms tended to do that to you. "How did you know that I needed help?"
It wasn't as if I'd actually called for it.
"We didn't." Kade removed the ice-pack and sat back on his heels. "When the com-link went dead again—this time mid sentence—Jack feared the worst and sent us scurrying."
Meaning Kye had not only been wearing a deadener similar to what he'd placed on me, but that it had a fairly decent range. The com-link connection had been severed long before he'd kicked his way into the room.
And that was a scary thought, because it had huge ramifications for the Directorate. It could become deadly when it came to on-street personnel. "Who hit you?" Kade added.
"Kye." I hesitated, a mix of anger and hurt and confusion rolling through me. Part of me—the wolf part, no doubt—still couldn't accept the fact that my soul mate was one of our killers. Where the hell did that leave me? What options did I have? If he didn't have a kill order on him already, he soon would. Because I couldn't—and wouldn't—conceal the truth. And yet if they killed him, they'd very likely kill me. "He wasn't here when you arrived?"
"No." He eyed me closely, his expression concerned. As an empath, he'd be feeling every bit of the twisted, tortured emotions currently running riot through me. "Why would he be here?"