“Okay.” His lips skimmed her nape. “How about a kiss good night?”
Chapter 3
Sarah wanted that kiss. No sense in lying to herself. When was the last time she’d been kissed? A long time ago ... before being sent to the institution. Maybe she was crazy. Only insanity would have her rolling over to face him. “Okay.”
Max’s eyes cut through the darkness. So oddly light. Earlier his eyes had seemed to be darker than dark, yet surrounded by night, they almost glowed. A calloused hand swept hair away from her cheek, smoothing down to cup her jaw.
Anticipation skittered down her spine.
He leaned in, his mouth brushing hers.
Firm. Warm, sexy... . his lips heated her. He feathered a kiss on each corner of her mouth, taking his time, his air of restraint spiraling her need higher. She let him play, the breath catching in her throat.
Smooth, sure, he slanted his lips over hers, enclosing and seizing control.
It was the sexiest thing she’d ever felt.
His tongue nudged her lips open and he slid in to explore, his lips working hers. He released her jaw, sliding his hand down to settle in the small of her back, tugging her into heat and hardness.
She sighed. Eyes closing, both hands tunneled into his thick hair. Electricity lit her nerves on fire. She returned the kiss, pressing against him, need and want mingling into something only he could satisfy.
He deepened the kiss, a low growl in his throat. The hand at her waist flexed. Smooth, slow, so damn sexy, that hand slid inside the blanket and wandered. Flesh against flesh. Goose bumps rose on her stomach as he caressed north to palm her breast.
She sighed, arching into his hold.
With a twist of his wrist, he captured her nipple, rolling it between his calloused fingers.
Shock tensed her muscles. Fire zapped straight to her clit. She gasped into his kiss, then leaned back, her lips still tingling. Her eyes opened, widening on his. Lust, determination, knowledge—all swirled in his oddly light eyes.
A sudden thought occurred to her—his strength, his power was so much more than hers. And damn if her core didn’t heat more.
Keeping her gaze captive, he tugged her to him. Just enough to show dominance, just enough to catch her breath in her throat. Fire. Her eyes fluttered closed. Need flashed way beyond want.
Her mind spun, and reality disappeared.
A low growl rumbled from him—the sound full of hunger and frustration. Then he released her, and drew her blanket back together, hands fisting on the ends.
She gave a small gasp of protest, opening her eyes.
Desire and danger stamped hard on his rough face.
Butterflies zinged to life in her belly. Her body ached. Nerves screamed for relief.
“Sarah.” Gravel churned in his voice. “I’m going to roll you over, and you’re going to sleep.”
The erection pressing against her stomach guaranteed the man didn’t want to sleep. “Why?”
“Because the other option is in two seconds, you’re going to be flat on your back, getting fucked within an inch of your life. You’re not ready for that.”
Her body was so ready a hell yes slammed through it. But her mind ... her sense of self-preservation ... woke up. Small breaths panted from her lungs as she unclenched her fingers, releasing his hair. She didn’t know the man. He may be sexy, but was also deadly as hell. He probably didn’t give a warning twice. Her breasts ached as she rolled over, pressing her butt into him. His low groan gave her a petty sense of satisfaction.
No way in hell could she sleep.
Sarah awoke to a raven complaining loud and high-pitched outside. She rolled over, and reality came crashing home. The tower was empty, her clothes still hanging on the hook. Darting her gaze toward the door, she hustled out of the blankets and yanked her somewhat dry clothes on.
She finger-combed her hair, wishing for pretty curls that looked wildly sexy after sleep. But nope—stick-straight hair—no curls. She assumed she looked like a disaster.
Spotting Max’s phone on the table, she reached for it, placing both hands over the cold metal. Nothing. She frowned, trying harder. No images, no thoughts. Nothing came to her. Yet he’d held the device the previous night.
Max stomped inside, wiping dew off his forehead. “You’re pretty in the morning, Sarah.”
Warmth. So much flushed through her she fought back a cough. “You’re a blind man.”
He surveyed her. “May I have my phone?”
“Yes.” She held it out, her gaze meeting his. “I can’t get anything from it.”
“I’m sure.” He accepted the phone, tucking it in his pocket. “Maybe I have gifts, too.”
An odd indecision crossed his face. He took a step forward and grasped her arms, leaning down to brush her lips with his. “Good morning.”
Morning kisses were meant to be light, welcoming. Sweet. This one was more of a promise—a claim.
“Um, good morning.” Sarah dug into her pockets to keep from grabbing and throwing him to the cot. Her body hummed, wanting to continue what they’d started the previous night.
His nostrils flared, and he stepped back.
“Why can’t I get an image from your phone? I know you held it.” Intrigue and an odd fear held her breath in her throat.
He shrugged. “I can’t discuss why. Sometimes you just have to accept the facts without an explanation.” His jaw was stubborn. Sexy ... but stubborn.
“We’ll see.” Nobody had ever been able to shield from her before. Who the hell was Max?
He nodded. “We should get going.”
“Yeah, about that.” She’d had enough of the alpha male protector moments. She was a big girl and knew how to run. No need to return to Seattle—the few friends she’d had were teachers at the school, and sadly, they’d pretty much given up on her. With her stupid gift, she rarely made friends, not wanting to know their secrets. Starting over alone would be no big deal.
But what if she couldn’t teach? Even if found unjustified, her psychiatric record might prevent her from teaching again. She shoved the horrible thought down. “Where are you going and why should I go, too?”
He captured her gaze, his focus suddenly and completely on her. “Good question. I’m taking you to meet with friends of mine in the U.S. Marshals service. They can give you a new identity and life. One where you don’t have to hide.”
Surprise jerked her head back. “The government knows about the Kurjans?”
“Ah, well, a few key members in the Marshals service know—and they’re willing to help you, in exchange for your silence.” He waited ... patiently, intently.
No one had ever focused so completely on her before. There was no escaping or hiding from him. She sighed. “I think the world should know about the Kurjans.”
“Yeah. I figured that out from the website and blog you started the second you escaped from Brancrest.” He rubbed his chin. “Both have been taken down.”
The statement didn’t surprise her. “Did you take them down?”
“No. I think my friend, Conn, took them down. You’ll meet him in a few minutes.”
Great. She couldn’t wait to meet good old Conn. The guy was probably one of those trendy computer nerds who could take over the entire internet if he wanted. Sarah had more immediate worries than her website. “What if I refuse to go with you?” Unease replaced interest in her stomach. How far would the government go to keep the secret? How far would Max go?
Regret firmed his jaw. “You’re finished talking publicly about the Kurjans, Sarah.” He held up a hand when she gasped. “I’m sorry. But you should understand.”
“They’d kill me? You’d kill me?”
“Of course not.” His frown reminded her of the storm the previous night—dark and dangerous.
“Sorry.” Geez. Her imagination was running crazy.
“But I would put you somewhere you couldn’t talk about the Kurjans. Whether your government liked it or not.”
/> Embarrassment turned to irritation. “Excuse me?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Bottom line is you choose your new life. Freedom or limited freedom—either way you stop blogging and searching for proof the Kurjans exist.” No apology, no leeway existed in his firm words.
“Wait a minute. What did you mean—my government?” Her mind spun. He wasn’t from her government? “God. Are we working with the Russians?”
He chuckled, grabbing her arm and heading toward the door. “Woman, you jump to the oddest conclusions. We’re leaving. Now.”
She tripped on the way out, struggling to keep up with his long strides. “Where is the Marshals service?”
“Portland.” He paused at the stairs, reaching to place one of her hands on the rail. “Don’t fall.”
“You have got to stop manhandling me.” The view stopped her. Miles and miles of pine trees spread out, alone and majestic. Beautiful. A helicopter waited in a clearing toward the base of the tower.
“Sorry.” He tugged her down the steps and along a rough trail. “I hope you like to fly.”
“Hate it.” She had since the first time her brother told her how many people died in fiery plane crashes. Didn’t help she was only eight and on the way to Disneyland. Andrew had been fifteen, and mean even then.
“Bummer.” Max opened the back door of a massive black beast and lifted her inside. She scooted out of the way for him to jump inside. Two men turned to view her. She fought a gasp. They were huge. They were all freakin’ huge.
Max let out a growl. “What the hell are you doing here?”
The pilot shot him a grin. “Nice to see you, too.”
“Damn it. I left you in charge of Janie.” Max yanked the door shut so hard the craft rocked.
The pilot shrugged. “I figure her father and Dage can handle her safety ... along with Kane and about thirty other soldiers. Why are you so cranky?”
Did the hulk just use the word “cranky”? Sarah bit her lip.
Max shook his head. “Sarah, meet Conn.” He nodded to the co-pilot. “This is his brother, Jase.”
“Ma’am,” the men said at the same time.
“Hi.” Sarah settled back into the seat. Who were these guys? Hard, fit, huge ... ultimate soldiers?
She studied them through half-closed eyes. They had similar bone structure. Both had brown hair with dark eyes. Too dark and not quite believable as real. Contacts?
In fact, their eyes were the same shade as Max’s. Except his had been lighter last night. Had he worn contacts during the day? She wondered if all soldiers on a mission hid their true eye color, and if they were soldiers, who did they work for?
Conn frowned, his gaze raking her. “She’s enhanced.”
Sarah shrunk back. “How do you know that?” Things had just gotten too weird. She eyed the door on her side of the craft.
Max reached across her, securing a seat belt and effectively trapping her. “I’m aware of that.”
Conn nodded, thoughtfulness pursing his lips. “So, not a coincidence. Any of this.”
Max shrugged. “Maybe ... maybe not. I figured we’d explore the issue when we interview her later.”
Interview her? Sarah turned toward him, eyes widening. “What are you talking about?” Soldiers used euphemisms. Interview really meant interrogate. Were these the good guys?
Max rubbed his jaw. “Interview. You know—ask questions. We need to understand what happened the night you saw the Kurjan. The parts you left out of your blog.”
“And if I don’t tell you?” she whispered, ice slithering down her spine.
“That would be unwise.” He frowned. “I would have no choice but to tickle you.”
Jase let out a bark of laughter.
Conn cut his eyes to Jase and then back to Max. “Did you just make a joke?”
“I’m very funny.” Max clicked his own seat belt into place. “Now, why are you here, and not searching Brancrest, Conn?”
Conn sighed, turning to flip buttons on the dash. “There are no records, schematics, or even drawings of Brancrest. We sent a squad in three days ago, and it failed. The men had no luck finding Sarah’s files—at least not as quietly as Dage wants.”
“We should just blow the place up,” Jase muttered.
“No.” Conn shrugged. “Dage wants this quiet, so we do it quietly.”
Max shook his head. “I don’t like where this is going.”
Jase glanced at Sarah. “We need her for the interior, for the layout of the building. There are no records, Max.”
“Don’t care.”
Both of Jase’s eyebrows rose. “You making a claim?”
Heat slid up Sarah’s face. They may be speaking in odd soldier lingo, but she could decipher that. A tiny part of her rose up in curiosity. Was he?
Max cleared his throat. “She stays safe.”
Not exactly an answer. Sarah leaned forward. “You want me to show you around Brancrest?” She’d vowed never to return to the crazy place.
“Yes.” Conn flipped another knob, and the rotor kicked into gear. “We need your records—everything you’ve said about the Kurjans. There can’t be a trail.”
She’d barely escaped once. The idea of the stupid drugs, those that made life hazy and kept her from shielding her gift, made her want to jump out of the helicopter.
The huge bird lifted into the air.
Chapter 4
Like any good insane asylum, Brancrest sprawled across lonely acres of trees, bushes, and rolling hills. It had been built by the millionaire Brancrest for his English bride, before the wilds of the surrounding land had taken them both. The Brancrests had disappeared within two years of residency, leaving no heirs.
The state gleefully took over—needing a place to house crazies. The stone buildings had stood for a hundred years; ancient compared to most buildings in the Pacific Northwest. The smooth stones had absorbed stories about tortured souls, zany old aunts, and those like Sarah, who’d been contained after a traumatic event. She shivered as the helicopter passed over the main building.
A heavy hand settled over hers, infusing warmth and strength along her knuckles. Safety. She turned toward Max. His gaze searched her face and then he ... winked.
Humor bubbled up, and she grinned. She could love the guy. The idea whispered in from nowhere. Love? Clearing her throat, she turned back to the window, catching her breath as they descended onto a field out of sight of the building.
The men jumped out, and Max held a hand to assist her. Heat flared up her arm from his palm. She sighed in relief when he released her. Yet she felt bereft.
Smooth as an assembly line, the men shoved guns, knives, and even stars into vest pockets, like they’d done so a million times before. Turmoil swept along her skin with the breeze.
Jase handed her a green gun. “Don’t shoot me.”
“Okay.” She took the heavy metal. No vibrations wandered up her arm. Apparently Jase was as safe as Max from her gift. Who the hell were these guys? Fear made her hand tremble. Cold, the weapon—an instrument of death—was the first gun she’d ever held. Tears pricked the back of her eyes.
Max swiftly grabbed it. “I’m assuming you shoot like you fight?”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
He nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He tucked the gun at the back of his waist. “Just stay behind me.”
She didn’t want the gun anyway. “Um, why are we taking so many weapons? I mean, nobody here is armed.” Sure, they had needles and stuff, but the men’s knives were overkill.
Jase flashed her a quick smile. It was charming and probably meant to be disarming. “We like to be prepared. You never know.” He sheathed a wicked jagged-edged blade along his calf, under dark cargo pants.
Conn twirled a narrower knife. “I’m assuming the main offices are in the big buildings?”
“Yes.” Sarah cleared her throat. “There are no phones, no way for inmates to reach the outside.”
Those
protocols existed for the inmates’ “protection.” The doctors were old and stuck in their ways. One had tried everything to cure her—to convince her she’d imagined the monster. He was wrong. Kurjans existed. She straightened her spine. Huge relief settled along her shoulders that she was sane after all.
Jase reached into the front seat of the helicopter, brought out a notebook, and placed it in her hands. “Would you diagram the building?”
“Um, maybe.” She shoved hair out of her face and began to sketch. “The dorms are adjacent to the main building, which houses the treatment rooms, meeting rooms, and the doctors’ offices. When you first go inside, the reception area has a bunch of couches and a huge fireplace; I think to put visitors at ease.” She kept drawing.
“Where would your records be kept?” Max asked.
“East side of the building—first floor in Dr. Robard’s office as well as the main records room on the third floor.” She drew a path, wincing at the rough lines. Drawing had never been a talent. “Though, frankly, I just don’t get this. Why do you guys really want my records?”
Conn cracked his neck. “I’m assuming your records contain the same information you put on that website trying to find information on the Kurjans. You called them vampires.”
“They are.” Fangs, white faces, evil eyes—of course they were vampires. “It makes sense. Most myths have a foundation in truth.” She shot Conn a hard look. “Max said you had my website and blog taken down.”
Jase flashed her a grin. “I took the site down ... after leaving a final entry that you’d sold your made-up story to a publisher—that your gimmick worked.” He tied his thick hair back at the neck with a rubber band. “For the record, they’re not vampires.”
Max tucked a hand around her arm, gently leading her toward the trees. “Let’s get the information and I’ll explain everything. For now, you need to understand we can’t have any information out there about the Kurjans.”
“The vampires.”
“They’re not vampires.” All three men made the statement at once.
She shrugged, peering around a large blue spruce at the imposing building. “I know what I saw.” Finally. For a brief time, she’d wondered. No longer. “I take it we’re going in the front door?”