Circle of Danger (3 page)

For a few seconds, he stared, taking in every delectable inch of her luscious body. Then he released her.

“No!” Her small fists hit the mattress.

“Shh, you'll get what you need.”

He wanted her as much as she needed him. How could he let her suffer? He knew what the drug did. How could he say no to her again? He'd see to what her body needed if it killed him. He understood how the drug drove those under its influence to do whatever necessary to reach their satisfaction.

His fingers clasped her thighs and spread her wider. With fierce, sharp movements, he parted his jeans and shoved them low on his hips, just enough to plunge into her. Tight warmth surrounded his cock. He groaned. Pure lava pleasure radiated from his groin. He pulled back and thrust again as he pushed her knees further apart, opening her so his groin touched hers. She arched her body screaming obscenities, wanting him to keep going.

Someone knocked on the door. He ignored it. No one dared enter without asking his permission. Moist heat squeezed until he became light-headed. Unable to slow, even if he wanted to, he grunted and pounded into her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door swing open. Without turning or stopping his thrusts, he roared, “Get the fuck out!”

The door slammed shut.

The woman beneath him climaxed, massaging his cock in a mixture of pleasure-pain. Sweat trickled down his forehead. He wanted relief too. Damn it to hell! But he knew it was hopeless. What he needed, she wouldn't understand. He started to pull out. She reached for him.

“No! Again. Pleeease.”

So he sank back into her warmth and pushed her knees toward her shoulders as he hammered into her. She screamed and climaxed again.

Hell! She felt so good. He had to let go.
Please let it happen this time.

No matter how he positioned her, his need grew with no relief. He didn't care. Her satisfaction only mattered. Her hands pushed beneath his jeans and travelled over his hips, stroking scars he'd never thought were erogenous until now.

“More,” she pleaded.

Panting like the animal he'd been called many times, he did what she begged him to do. She wanted more. He gave her more until his heart felt as if it would burst. Each time he tried to stop—sure she must be raw, if not sated—she'd cry and plead until he entered her again.

His own release denied him unless he showed her his dark side. His thumb pressed into the tight opening near where he thrust into her. Tempted, but a hidden fear stopped him from pressing further. In all likelihood, she would hate him for pushing her too far, too soon.

So he worked at bringing her relief. Not one inch of her body had been missed by his touch or mouth. She screamed his name with another wave of satisfaction but she gripped his thighs, telling him to keep pumping.

He lifted her buttocks and rotated his hips as he ground against her. Their grunts and moans meshed. How long he'd fucked her, he wasn't sure, but when she whimpered at the end of her latest orgasm, he stopped and pulled out. His sore cock remained hard as a power pole. His scarred knee ached like a son of bitch. Kneeling on the bed, he helped her roll to the side. Tears streamed down her face as she whimpered in exhaustion. Wherever his hands stroked in an effort to relax and comfort, her muscles shivered in waves beneath his fingers. Finally, her body relaxed and her eyes fluttered closed as he smoothed her sweat-soaked hair from her forehead.

He wanted her again. But it was useless. She'd had enough.

Truth be told, he felt separated from the act. It had always been that way. As if someone not human inhabited his body as he performed. He hated the feeling. Feeling like a freak, a monster.

Weary to the bone, he moved behind her, spooning her limp body. His arm wrapped around her waist as he inhaled the tangy smell of sex clinging to her skin. She sniffled and wiggled her butt against his hard groin. She whimpered again. He bit the side of his mouth to stop from her echoing the sound.

“Shh, everything will be okay. No one will hurt you again.” Even him.

Tomorrow, he'd feel ashamed for taking advantage of her while she was under the influence of the drug. For now, he would savor the feel of her in his arms until she slept.

 

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

M
arie woke to the pain of another needle sinking into her body. Her brain, fuzzy with sleep, slowly registered what was happening, tempering her fear. This time, it was her arm and The Circle's top doctor administering the dose. She looked at the small hospital-styled room located in the medical area of Sector.

“Hey, Doc, whatcha giving me?”

She inhaled deeply. An unexpected ache shot down her ribcage to her groin, cutting off the welcomed fresh air with her cry. Pictures flickered through her memory until one in particular burst to the forefront. Ryker moving above her, fully dressed except for his cock thrusting into her. His hard, masculine face divided by the ever-present black eye patch. Was it a dream? It wouldn't be the first time. Yet this time something was off.

“You'll be okay. It's a sedative to help you rest and heal,” said Dr. Cooper.

“How are you so sure it won't have a bad reaction to the drug that creep gave me?” She yawned and blinked, trying to focus on the people in the room. One male nurse stood near the door while another held a box of Band-Aids for Doc to use. The man she wanted to see was nowhere in sight. The only man she wanted to hold her like he had in the helicopter.

“From the blood test we ran, we know this won't be a problem.” Doc shook his head and handed the used hypodermic syringe to the nurse and in an efficient, well-practiced movement, wiped the area with gauze and stuck a small, round adhesive bandage over it.

“Will this get the drug out of my system?” She licked her chapped lips.

“No. We have to run a few more tests. For now you need to relax and drink as many fluids as you can. Your body needs time to recover.” The last few words sounded strained.

Marie looked up and caught the doctor's cheeks turning red. What in the world could embarrass a doctor?

She struggled to scoot to the head of the hospital bed. A raw soreness throbbed between her thighs. Then she remembered everything. It had been no dream. Her head jerked up and zeroed in on Ryker as he walked into the room. Broad shoulders, the lean build of a fighter. Oh, my God! She'd finally got him in bed
and
she'd begged him to do her. In fact, she'd pleaded with him more than once. With a fistful of sheet, she ducked underneath the linen and tugged it over her head. She wished she could disappear.

Maybe she was being silly but for goodness' sake, Ryker had seen her at her worst.
Oh, no! I actually begged him!

Doc released a nervous chuckle. “Marie, you have nothing to be ashamed of. The drug caused you to act unlike yourself. Give it time and it'll surely run its course, if it hasn't already.” He cleared his throat. She guessed he spotted Ryker behind him when he said, “Research has several vials of her blood. We should have more details soon. Then we'll know how much and what strength of the drug they gave her. In the meanwhile, listen to me. Do. Not. Move. Her.”

Oh, crap. The doctor knew what she and Ryker had been doing. Had Ryker told him? Who pulled her from his bed and brought her to the clinic? She'd never come out from under the sheet ever again.

“Doc, let me have a moment alone with Marie.”

She squeezed her thighs. How could she become so moist by hearing Ryker's deep, raspy voice? A sound produced by ruined vocal chords. She'd cared for and wanted him for years but never felt instantaneous horniness by his voice alone. The drug. Her nails burrowed into the mattress. It still lingered in her system. That had to be the reason.

“Marie, come out, please.”

Were her ears playing tricks on her? Ryker actually said please. Had she ever heard him say that word to anyone? Maybe she needed to check and see if he was really here.

She stuck her head out of the covers. He looked the same. Stone-faced. Not giving her any idea of what he was thinking. His gaze cold as he watched her every move. Funny, the patch was such a part of him she often had to remind herself it was there along with the scars. Like when someone described a friend and forgot to mention they wore glasses.

Built solid and over six feet with dark hair and an even darker countenance, he easily frightened everyone around him. The eye patch and scars pushed the intimidation factor a little more. But she knew several of his secrets as he knew most of hers. Maybe because of their past together, she was a bit more comfortable around him than the others who work in the organization. Or most likely it was because she'd loved him for so long.

How could anyone not love a man like Ryker? When she was sold to Master at the age of twelve by her parents for drug money, they'd lied and claimed she was nine. She'd been such a lost little girl. Ryker had taken pity on her by becoming her only friend and warning her to keep quiet about her true age. Now at twenty-one, she wanted to be treated as an adult, but he still wanted to protect her.

“Are you all right? How do you feel?” he asked. His gaze dipped to her hips and quickly returned to her eyes.

Heat spread across her face, neck, and chest, one of the drawbacks of being a natural blonde with fair skin. She understood his message loud and clear. He worried about what harm their sexual marathon had done.

“I'm fine. Sore, but I'll be right as rain as soon as Doc lets me go home.” She grinned. The corners of her mouth felt stiff.

Home was a one-bedroom apartment in The Circle's compound. Ryker had tried to set her up in the mansion with him when they first moved, but she'd refused. Seeing him a couple days from a distance or more during the week was bad enough. Living with him and not being able to touch would've been torture.

“What do you think you were doing, working retrieval?” he asked in a harsh voice.

She wanted to feel hurt that he felt a need to scold her like a child, but for some insane reason she liked knowing he worried. Even his anger was better than the usual emotionless attitude she got from him with the occasional polite interest and impatience mixed in. She lifted her gaze. Then again, after what they did last night, for him to treat her in the same way should be difficult, if not impossible.

“Marie, are you okay?” His voice filled with concern. Now that was more of what she wanted.

The dark smudge beneath his eye and the ridges at the corners of his mouth visibly told her that he was tired and stressed out. The scars on the side of his face appeared whiter than usual, as if stretched tight.

More memories came flying back to slap her in the face. One stood out that made her face hot. He hadn't climaxed one time. He hadn't worn a condom and she remembered how hard and big he'd been and how his stamina hadn't lagged throughout the night. How did he do it?

Oh, no. No! Her face felt as if on fire. Not only had she pleaded with him to have sex with her, she'd thrown herself at him, hung onto him, and even coerced him into taking her. No matter what she'd done, he hadn't been turned on enough to find release with her. Sure, any man could get hard at the sight of a halfway decent-looking naked woman, but having an orgasm when someone continued to beg—

Just thinking about it was torture. She covered her head with the sheet again. If only he would disappear and never look at or speak to her again.

“Go away.” Shoot her and put her out of her misery.

“Listen. We have to talk about this.” He sounded closer.

Why couldn't he understand? “Please go away. I'll talk to you later. I swear.” As in, when she was old and gray and blind. Facing him was the last thing she wanted to do.

“I placed you in the IS department to protect you.” Ryker's voice lowered. “What did the asshole do to you?”

“Bryan?” she asked.

“Not that asshole! The Wizard. The asshole who drugged you.”

Of course. Her brain was still a little fuzzy. All she could think about was her and Ryker's surreal love . . . sex session? The way they'd behaved had nothing to do with love.

“No, he didn't,” she answered.

“What the hell do you mean, he didn't?”

His angry tone had her explaining without catching her breath. “I mean, the guy wasn't the Wizard.”

“Did he say he wasn't?”

She peeked out from under the covers. “He said the Wizard was a god and a genius. He wasn't talking about himself in the third person. I could tell he was talking about someone else.” This was good. He would concentrate on the creep instead of the time they spent playing horizontal tongue badminton. “It was more like he enjoyed the Wizard's expertise in concocting the drug.”

“Tell me everything that happened,” he ordered. He wrinkled his forehead as he concentrated on what she had to say.

A
cross the room, Ryker folded his arms, leaning a shoulder against the wall, and listened to her story. When she hesitated and then told him of how the man cut off her clothes, fury gripped his chest. He pushed away and started to pace. Thanks to whatever providence was looking over her, he'd arrived before she'd been raped.

“What have you learned from this?” he asked.

He needed her to understand how dangerous field work could be for someone like her. Marie was a gentle soul and so helpless. Hell, at five-one, the top of her head didn't reach his shoulder.

“That Jack is right and I need to practice taekwondo.” She bit her bottom lip.

The same lip he'd tasted last night. He turned his back to her. Hands on hips, he dropped his head and inhaled. A few seconds passed as he waited for his cock to soften and he regained his common sense. Time to get in control of his libido and not embarrass himself. “It's good to know a martial art, but you're not going out into the field again.”

“Yes, I am,” she said in a small but firm voice.

He twirled around. “No. You. Are. Not.” What was wrong with her? Didn't she understand he wanted to keep her safe?

“Have you forgotten your promise to me?” She sat up and crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised.

The thin cotton hospital gown hid little. The pink circles beneath the cloth drew his gaze as her nipples jutted out, begging for him to tweak them. Damn! He shifted his hips, hoping to adjust the sudden tightness of his pants. Those moss-green eyes caught the movement. Double damn.

“Refresh my memory.” The way her gaze stayed glued to his groin, he could barely remember his name.

“That I would never answer to another master again. Or have you decided to be mine?”

“Hell, no!” He strode to the bed and stood over her, his glare intended to intimidate. How could she accuse him of that? They'd spent too many years under that hammer. Master—hell! How many times did he have to remind himself he no longer had a master?
Theodore Palmer
was dead, and good riddance.

“Then quit telling me what I can and cannot do!” She kneeled in the bed and glared back, nearly nose to nose.

“Children, children.” Jack strode into the room. “I could hear you two down the hallway.”

“Jack, tell this moron I hate working in the Crypt and want to do field work.” She poked Ryker in the chest. The Crypt was another name for the Information Systems Department located beneath Sector.

Ryker looked down as her finger jabbed him several more times. Where was the timid beauty who had a hard time meeting his gaze? He kind of liked her like this. Damn! He was so hard he ached. This was driving him insane as everything she said and did cause him to want her more. Was the drug contagious? Maybe he'd already lost his mind.

“You better be happy I don't tie you up in bubble wrap.” Just the thought of tying her down brought a groan he covered with a cough.

“Ryker.” Jack nodded toward the door.

Perfect timing. He needed to get away from her, even if for a few minutes. It was as if his body expected to sink into her whenever she was near. Once tasted, always desired. Besides, the things they did last night were nothing compared to what he really wanted to do to her.

“Behave,” he warned her, shaking his finger. Before she could retort, he stepped out of the room with Jack. “What's going on?”

“They found another dead body. That's six so far. I have a feeling if we hadn't gotten Marie out, she'd have been number seven.” Jack shook his head.

“What do the authorities know so far?” He walked away from the room. Last thing he needed was for her to overhear the real danger she'd been in.

“They're aware of four women. Of those, five have Club Rachael's stamp on their hand. The latest one has The Iron Rocket stamp. But the guys in the lab believe there may be another stamp beneath it.”

“What about drugs?” Ryker asked. He turned off Sector's hallway and hit the release on the double doors. The strong wind pushed at him. He hesitated before walking out onto the long balcony running along a mountain cliff. Blue skies with a few wisps of white clouds spotted the sky. He lifted his chin and took a deep breath of the fresh air. The sensation of floating had him clasping the back rail against the stone wall. He hated heights but loved the view. It had taken him three months to work up the nerve to stand out there. Phobias were weaknesses, and he worked hard at ignoring or facing them. He treated his fear of heights as a small weakness easily dealt with over time. Larger weaknesses he couldn't fix were filed away and ignored. Thus another reason he'd placed Marie in the Crypt.

Below the balcony, a few miles away, movement of two trucks threading in and out of the trees caught his attention. They travelled the long, snaky road leading to the mansion and the less visible entrance into the underground facility. The vehicles looked no different than the maintenance or delivery trucks that visited a thriving estate. One of the benefits of living in the center of ten square miles of mountainous land was that Sector, The Circle's headquarters, could hide in plain sight.

So far, no one could trespass without being apprehended and then promptly disappearing.