Chapter Four
After a useless day of trying to penetrate Scorpius’s protein shell, Nora had left her nanoparticle experiments to do their thing. Hopefully there would be results within sixteen hours.
For now, she stood outside Deacan’s apartment door, not moving. Her knees wobbled. Agreeing to dinner had been a mistake. A huge-ass, what was she thinking, larger-than-life. . . mistake. She knew better. God, did she know better.
Yet when he’d asked, her heart had leaped. A hard thud against her rib cage—one she hadn’t felt in eight years. The previous night, as Zach had battled the fever, she’d actually slept curled up into Deacan’s side, feeling safe. Deke had awoken her around dawn with the good news that Zach’s fever had passed. She’d waited for a while to talk to Zach, and the second he made a lame joke, she’d known. He would be all right, and more than willing to donate blood and get his brain scanned for a closer look at Scorpius.
So she’d returned to the lab to double her efforts to beat the crap out of Scorpius. The nanostructured materials so far hadn’t worked, but she’d only tried silver and titania. She’d try ceria next.
Now, after a full day in the lab and a quick shower in her temporary apartment, she hovered like a weenie outside Deke’s place.
If she went inside, she knew exactly where the night would end. Where she wanted it to end—satisfying her curiosity about their past. Had it been as good as she remembered?
She lifted her hand to knock, but the door opened before she made contact.
“I gave you long enough to change your mind.” Deacan grasped her arm to lead her into cool air.
She’d forgotten. The way he had of taking charge, of touching, of instantly enfolding her into his space. Even in his early twenties, he’d ruled the atmosphere around him. Now, in his thirties, seasoned and somehow calm, he still made air adjust to him.
Some things never changed.
She stumbled by him and shoved a bottle of wine into his stomach. “I bought red.”
He lifted one eyebrow and shut the door, accepting the bottle and releasing her arm. “Thank you.”
She swallowed and nodded, her gaze darting around a sprawling room decorated with masculine leather furniture. The room even smelled like him. Spicy and male.
He grasped her chin and lifted her face. “Nora, take a breath.”
She tried to appear calm and meet his gaze, but her heart thundered in her ears. “I’m fine.”
He blinked, his thumb brushing across her chin. “I won’t hurt you, baby.”
She frowned and tilted her head to the side, allowing his fingers to remain on her skin. “I’m not afraid of you.”
He sighed and released her to run a hand through his thick hair. “Sure you are, and I don’t blame you.” He turned toward a spacious kitchen decorated with dark granite and stainless steel appliances.
Heat rushed into her lungs, and she grabbed his arm. Hard and sculpted, his muscles moved beneath her palm.
But he didn’t turn back, and his shoulders remained stiff.
What was he thinking? She kept hold and walked around to face him. “Deacan?”
His gaze met hers, green and dark. “I remember how it was, and so do you. I’ve changed, but I don’t expect you to believe just my words.”
She shook her head, her mind fuzzing. “You’re confusing me. I was never afraid of you.” Afraid for him, sure. Definitely. But not one minute of their time together had she spent thinking he’d hurt her. Ever.
His brows drew together. “I punched the walls. A lot. I was so fucking angry. All the time.”
She nodded, her heart hurting in a way it hadn’t in so long. “I know. But you never hit me, and I never thought you would.” There were times she thought he’d break his hand, but not once, not once, had she feared for herself. He’d been so young and angry. “You’ve never been a man who’d harm a woman, Deacan.”
Even at their worst, when she’d yelled at him, he’d never yelled back. Had never even raised his voice to her. He’d needed her, and she’d run like the scared kid she’d been. Although they’d both changed during the ensuing years, he was still a soldier, whether he knew it or not, and she was still a scientist with a healthy suspicion of the government.
Were they on opposite sides? Especially since Scorpius could be eventually weaponized? She wouldn’t allow any government, even her own, to have that kind of power.
“You were right that I needed to get my head on straight before I re-upped. I should’ve listened to you.” His gaze softened, and he brushed a strand of hair off her face. “We were too young. Way too young.”
She smiled, her body relaxing. “I know.” Clearing her throat, she stepped back. “Where do you really live now?”
He chuckled and turned toward the kitchen. “I had a place in Georgetown, but the lease is up, so I just moved everything here for now. Maybe once you cure Scorpius, I’ll actually buy a place. Settle in.” He shrugged broad shoulders and reached for a plate of steaks.
Deacan McDougall in a permanent home? Hard to imagine. She followed him through the kitchen to a dining nook set against floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at the lights of D.C. He’d set the table with matching place mats, plates, and linens.
“Sit, Nora,” he said, setting a pan in the center and pulling out her chair.
She sat, and amusement bubbled up upon seeing a tag sticking out from her place mat. “This is lovely,” she murmured, discreetly tucking the tag under the blue woven material. She’d bet her last dollar he’d purchased matching tableware that day, and his cupboards were full of mismatched plates and chipped cups. “Everything looks so put together.”
He leaned over a breakfast bar for salad and rolls before opening the wine and pouring them each a glass. Then he sat, overwhelming the oak chair. “I remembered you liked things to match.”
She chuckled, absurdly touched that he’d made such an effort. They hadn’t succeeded as a couple, but there had been some great times together. “Remember that teeny apartment we had by the base?” One bedroom, living room, tiny kitchen, and minuscule bathroom. Just painting the place had depleted their savings, but she’d wanted it bright and cheery for when he took leave, so she’d worked for a week to make a home.
“Yes,” he said, taking a drink of the wine.
She followed suit, allowing the dark taste to warm her belly. It was time for some truth. “I’m thinking it’s not much of a coincidence you had me extracted on day one of my vacation.”
He reached for the salad to dish it on their plates before adding the steak. “No. We needed to keep the relocation of your team under the radar, even from your employer.”
Tingles flared alive in her abdomen. “Don’t you think the public should be made aware there’s a dangerous bacteria being transmitted?”
His green gaze met hers. “We don’t need to cause a panic at this stage.”
She lifted her head. “People have a right to know. You must understand your obligation to the public.” Her gaze narrowed, and her breath slowed.
“It’s too early for panic, Nora. Trust the government a little.”
She set down her fork, her temper simmering. “You’re kidding me.”
“Nope.” Deacan cut into his steak.
How could she trust an entity so comfortable keeping secrets? She wiggled on her seat. “Do other governments know about Scorpius?”
“Yes, and that’s a problem. China accused us of creating Scorpius and is insisting we send along samples.”
Nora coughed. “You said no.”
He glanced up, his gaze direct. “Of course, but that just means we need to tighten security.”
Her mind blanked. “Please tell me that once we solve this thing, Scorpius gets destroyed.”
He leaned toward her, his gaze soft, his voice strong. “Probably not. We need to study it and prepare for any mutations, which I’ve heard has already happened. If Scorpius was in one meteorite, it’ll be in another.”
&nbs
p; She shook her head. “I won’t let you use any of my research as a weapon.”
He lifted an eyebrow and gave a short grin. “Fair enough. Let’s talk about something that won’t get us into a fight. How about movies and current events?”
She laughed and started to argue about dramas versus comedies versus sports. Dinner passed, and she finally set down her fork. “That was wonderful. Thank you.”
He nodded, his gaze warming. “I know you’ve dated, Nora, but have you found anything close to what we had?”
Panic skittered down her spine, and she shoved back into her chair. “We were kids, Deacan.” What she remembered, what haunted her at night, had to be a dream. A young girl’s romantic rememberings of a time that couldn’t have existed. She took a big gulp of wine. “What we had wasn’t real.”
“It was real, and you know it.” He refilled both their glasses and then captured her gaze. His voice rumbled low and intimate, while his gaze heated. Seated and eating, he was every bit the slumbering lion, satisfied for the moment. Yet there was no doubt he’d be hungry again . . . and not for steak.
A shiver of warmth licked across her nerves. “I’m not sure.”
“I am. I missed you.”
The statement, so direct and honest, flared her nerves alive. Intrigue and want tempted her with a heated hunger, and she fought to keep control. To remain sane and unharmed. She pushed away from the table and grabbed her wineglass to head into the living room. “Thanks for dinner.”
He reached her with a wisp of sound, tugging her down to the sofa. “Stay the night.”
“Probably not a good idea.” She gingerly placed her glass on the coffee table before she doused them both with Cabernet. The man radiated heat in the air-conditioned room, and she had to fight the urge to nuzzle into his side like she would’ve years ago. To feel that sense of belonging and home. “We tried, we failed, it’s over.”
He remained silent and placed his glass next to hers. “Are you sure?”
No. Hell to the nth of no. She’d been apart from him for eight years, and she’d dated several men, even going so far as to move in with one. Yet not once had her heart been broken when the relationship had ended. Was it possible that there was only one match for each person? She was a scientist and believed in soul mates as much as faeries or mermaids. But she couldn’t help but wonder. Were they meant to be? “What are you asking me, Deacan?”
“Just for one night.” He reached for her, so casually, so easily, and settled her on his lap, facing him, her thighs straddling his. “To find out if it was real. Any of it.”
She could’ve fought him and kept her seat. He wouldn’t have forced her onto his lap. Yet she allowed him to move her, to reposition her, to put her where she’d once belonged. Out of curiosity to find out if she’d still fit easily, and out of a bodily craving she couldn’t deny. Yet she kept her voice level. “Are you joking?” The man wanted to get her into bed? She perched very still, trying not to appreciate the rigid muscles of his thighs between hers. In their years apart, he’d filled out, becoming even harder. “That’s the worse come-on I’ve ever heard.”
His upper lip curved. “Baby, if I just wanted ta get laid, I have plenty of options. I want more. A chance to see if what we had was real, or if I’m making up memories.” He brushed her hair back from her shoulder. “Are you seeing anybody?”
“No,” she breathed.
“When was the last time you had sex?”
Her shoulders went back. “None of your business.”
“Oh?” He ran his hands over her arms and around her waist, pulling her along his legs until his erection nearly burned through her jeans. She almost managed to swallow her gasp. His eyes darkened to a color beyond green. “When was the last time you made that sound?”
Eight years ago. “Deacan—”
At his name, something in him snapped. His arm banded tighter around her waist, and his other hand tangled in her hair, gripping her with the promise of power leashed with determination.
The combination rippled through her, and she shuddered.
“Yeah.” He held her in place. “That.”
She tried to breathe, but the desire clawing through her gave no quarter. “You planned this.”
“No. I wished for this.” He met her mouth, enveloping her in desperate heat. No calculation, no seduction—just all male taking her under.
Her eyes closed, and her hands clamped onto his shoulders. For years, she’d felt so cold. Now, finally, here was warmth. She kissed him back, lost in the feeling, drugged by the familiarity.
He stood easily, holding her, continuing to demolish her mouth. The moment stilled, and she didn’t care. When she dug her hands into his hair, he began to move.
She just didn’t want the ecstasy to end.
Somehow he managed to maneuver through the condo, kissing her the entire time. They reached a bed, and he laid her down. He drew off his shirt, revealing rugged muscles adorned with battle scars. “I’ve waited a long time for this. Are you sure?”
She’d known he’d ask. Somehow, deep down, she’d known. Now they both needed to know if their memories were even close to true. “I’m sure,” she whispered. One night wouldn’t hurt her—she’d make sure of it. But she had to know.
His eyes glittered a startling green through the semidarkness. “I’ve missed you, Nora.” Quick movements had his belt wisping through loops.
She shivered at the sound and partially sat up.
“Let me,” he rumbled, reaching for her shirt. “I remember what you like.”
Did he? She held up her arms so he could remove her shirt. “Prove it.”
Chapter Five
The second she acquiesced, something in Deke’s chest unfolded. Something hard and foreign . . . and now gone. He’d missed her. If she’d decided to show up for dinner, he’d known she’d want to explore their past—to see if what they’d had was real. Hell, he’d been counting on it.
Now, with her daring him from his bed, he finally allowed himself to relax. When he reached down to remove her jeans and panties, his hands trembled enough to make him grin. “Did you know?” he asked softly, wondering if she’d be honest.
She unhooked her bra and tossed the lacy material across the room. Her breasts had filled out, but the hard pink nipples were familiar and so damn sexy. “Know what?”
He breathed out, the air burning his throat. “That we’d end up here tonight.” Lying on his bed, naked, skin glowing in the muted light, the woman was a goddess. The years had been kind to her, sculpting her curves into delicate femininity. Red highlights in the hair spread out against his pillow caught and glimmered, and his cock hardened even more.
She smiled, the sight both enticing and a little sad. “I knew.”
He crawled up her, careful to brush his skin against hers, enjoying the hitch in her chest. Her nipples scraped his pecs, and he groaned. Reaching her face, he kissed her, trying to be gentle. Finally, he had a chance to show her who he’d become. He’d worked so hard to get rid of the anger, to find some sense of peace after so much blood and death. He’d never be that guy again.
She gripped his head, kissing him back, little moans trembling through her chest.
The man inside him, the primitive male, revolted against control. So he rolled them over. “God, Nora. I’d forgotten.”
Her knees dropped to his sides, and her hot sex rubbed against his dick, coating him with wetness. “Forgotten what?” she murmured, her lips pressing hot, openmouthed kisses against his jaw.
“How damn small you are.” He caressed down her flanks to her tight ass, and his cock jumped against her. The woman had taken such a prominent place in his heart, in his mind, in his dreams . . . she seemed so much larger in the abstract. Here, with her writhing on top of him, he remembered her fragility. He probably outweighed her by a hundred plus pounds. Nearly overcome, he gripped her head to hold her still, his fingers tangling in her curls.
She gasped, and more wetness coated h
is balls at the dominance.
Fire rushed through him, and he grinned. Some things didn’t change. Thank the gods. “I’ll keep you safe this time,” he murmured, claiming eye contact, needing her to understand. To believe him.
She blinked and slid her hand down to grasp him with an incredibly soft hand.
Electricity sparked through his balls, and he shoved against her palm. “Nora—”
She levered herself up, all grace and strength, and positioned him at her entrance. Slowly, almost as if she enjoyed torturing him, she lowered herself, pausing several times and taking deep breaths.
Jesus. How long had it been for her?
Her butt hit his groin, and impossible heat captured his shaft. His eyes rolled back, and thunder rippled down his abdomen. “You’re so damn tight,” he gritted out, his muscles undulating with the need to move.
She chuckled, the sound throaty and breathless. “Now we talk.” Her fingernails scraped across his chest.
His eyes opened. “What?”
“Your statement that you’d keep me safe this time. I’m assuming you’re not talking about birth control, and lucky for you, I’m on the pill. Deke, I was safe last time.” She lifted up and slid back down along his length.
Hunger roared through him, neck to dick. His hand tightened in her hair, and he clutched the bedspread to keep from grabbing her with the other hand. “I meant from me.”
“So did I.” Her eyes darkened to nearly black, and using his abs for balance, she lifted her butt again and then slammed home.
Agonizing need clawed his balls, and he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning. “I was angry. During and after tours.”
Her internal muscles gripped around him, and he arched up into her. She smiled. “You were a scared, angry kid who’d seen hell, and I was a scared, lonely kid who didn’t know how to help you. We’re not those people now. You’re not a soldier.”
He paused. Something wasn’t quite right in the statement, but at the moment, his body was sweating as he held himself back. “I’m not in the service.” But he still wore a gun and dealt with violence. He was just better at it now. Did she understand that?