Dead Force Rising (6 page)

“I’ll leave you then,” he told her,
grabbing an extra blanket and pillow from the bottom of the bed.

“Thank You,” Thorn said with a slight
apologetic smile.

“No problem, sweetie. We’ll talk
about things in the morning. Now you better get some sleep.” John winked and
exited the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

She stood looking at the closed door
in disbelief. Sergeant John Rose wasn't anything like she expected when she
first started following him a week earlier. Doing as he suggested, Thorn locked
the door. She might trust John more than before, but she had no idea who else
lived in this place.

Thorn stripped out of her jacket,
hanging it on the footboard post as she shed the rest of her clothes and walked
into the bathroom. She was tired as hell but her body throbbed painfully as the
heat began to thaw her numb skin. A hot shower would speed the process up and
help her relax before she crashed.
 

She stood in the downpour of water,
absorbing the sensation of the droplets striking her skin. Grabbing up the bar
of soap, Thorn held it to her nose, breathing in the distinct scent of him. A
flutter in her stomach made her frown. What was she thinking? This man was a
stranger and she’d allowed him to bring her to this place where she knew no
one, was in some building with walls so thick she was certain no one could hear
her scream. Now she was standing naked in a shower daydreaming of the smell of
him, with thoughts
she
 
wasn't
ready to admit to running around
in her head. Thorn decided her brain must have frozen out in that snow covered
street. That, or the creature had bitten her and she was now in some weird
alternative reality.

****

John walked stiffly toward the couch,
which would be his bed for the rest of the night. It took everything he had not
to turn around and head back to his room. The beast dwelling inside him called
out for him to take her regardless of what she said or did. He was thankful for
the weeks of training
he
and the four other recruits in
the unit had done to learn control. However, having Thorn in such close
proximity and in such distress earlier was a test unlike anything the General
or the Doctor could devise.

Stuffing his pillow into the corner
of the couch, he climbed onto the cushion and let out a long sigh. He wondered
about his own motivation for bringing her here. John would love to be able to
say it was purely for her own safety, or because she may threaten his ability
to complete his mission. In reality, it was a lot more selfish than either. He
wanted to be near her, see her,
hear
Thorn's voice.
John had fallen in love with her long ago when she was no more than a picture
and a dream.
 
General Striate must have known
that somehow. That could be the only explanation of putting her directly in John's
path.
 
Did Striate truly think Thorn
could handle the type of physical relationship he would demand or that she
could live in the bizarre world John now called home?

Closing his eyes, John couldn't think
of anything other than the erotic images his mind created of her standing in
the shower, hot water cascading across her round breasts, tucked waist, and
full hips. He longed to taste her kiss and hear his name upon her lips. It was
with those images he fell asleep.

CHAPTER SIX

“Hey Sarg, what are you doing out
here?” Caleb Bell asked as John opened his eyes and squinted at the group of
men gathered around him.

The smirks and shit eating grins said
that each of the team
members
 
knew
the reason he’d slept on the
dayroom couch, yet they waited patiently for him to spill the beans. Sitting up,
he rubbed a hand through his dark hair. Not only were they looking for an
explanation but he knew Thorn would be waiting for one as well. That was one
conversation he didn't look forward to having.

“All right boys, tell me none of you
have been near my room bothering my guest?” He asked, giving them a look that
dared them to say they had.

“Do we look stupid, boss?” Caleb
asked with a chuckle.

Bell was the youngest of the group.
At twenty-five, he’d only been in the service for a little over a year. Why he
volunteered for this unit was a complete mystery. Though John thought it had
something to do with the kid’s knee. He once heard Bell say something about an
injury from an improvised explosive device, better known as an IED, the vehicle
he’d been in hit while in Iraq.
 

Beside him Kenneth J. Harlow, aka
Hark, stood with his large arms crossed in front of him. The scars which
cris-crossed the right side of his face were a constant reminder to them all of
what could happen should a man be caught outnumbered in hostile territory. Hark
was the largest man in the group at six foot six, he was three hundred pounds
of pure muscle, a definite force to reckon with. Hark was a true modern day
gladiator.

Brad Beamer was the next member of
the
team,
the logistics specialist in their little
fucked up family. There wasn’t a number he couldn’t crunch or a computer system
Beamer couldn’t crash. An enlarged heart threatened to end his military career
before he signed on with General Striate. The man was cocky but lacked the
confidence to back it up in the field, making his work behind the scenes a
perfect fit for him. His thin, athletic build was also a stark contrast to the
other team members.

This left the last member of the
team, Donald Monroe. Monroe was the oldest of the group at thirty-six, and by
all rights, he should have outranked them all. However, a bad attitude and
inability to take orders had him busted down to a corporal. It was also the
reason the man ended up here. It was either this bunch of misfits or peeling
potatoes in the mess hall until his enlistment ran out.
 

“So what’s with hauling some woman
into the nest?” Monroe grumbled, shooting a sideways glance in the direction of
John’s room.

“Definitely not the most intelligent
choice, bringing a civilian female down here,” Beamer added.

“That isn’t any of your fucking
business,” John growled, standing and heading toward the room where Thorn most
likely still slept.

“You two better just lay the hell off,”
Hark warned. “If the Sergeant thought it best to bring his woman to the safety
of the nest then it’s not our place to question him.”

“Thanks, Hark,” John threw over his
shoulder as he continued to his destination. He had a sudden need just to be
near her and know Thorn was safe.

****

Thorn awoke to the gentle rap of
someone knocking at the door. Rolling over, she stretched and rubbed her eyes
before looking around the room. She’d hoped she'd discover herself in her own
bed under grandma’s quilt. Instead, the warm, sweet smell of cinnamon and spice
she associated with Sergeant John Rose greeted her. The events of the night
still haunted her thoughts,
it
 
wasn't
every night your work partner
got his throat torn out by a vampire who wanted to rape you. Then the man whose
bones you’ve been dreaming of jumping shows up like the hero of some cheap
romance novel to save the day. Of course, there was still one more twist to
this lurid little story. Thorn's knight in shining camo also had fangs.
 
The whole thing was very surreal.

“Thorn sweetie, are you awake?”
John’s voice called from the other room.

“Yes, give me a minute,” Thorn called
as she stood and pulled the hem of his shirt as far down her legs as possible
although it still feel a few inches above her knees. Moving slowly, she clicked
the lock on the door allowing it to open and stepped back a bit nervously.

“Hey,” John said as he stepped into
the room and closed the door behind him. “How are you feeling?”

Thorn could feel his eyes run across
her as though they were his hands making goose bumps form along her arms and
legs. Something about the
man
 
made
her feel giddy as a teenager, even
though she was certainly out of her element here and still attempting to
process the event she witnessed last night.

“I’m alright,” she said low, looking
at his bare feet on the tile floor rather than into his amber eyes.
 

“I wondered if perhaps you were ready
to talk about last night,” John asked, running the tips of his fingers gently
along the curve of her jaw, raising her face up as he did so.

Thorn felt the butterflies, which now
seem to permanently reside in her stomach, take flight at his touch. She knew
this was irrational. She should be screaming her head off in fear of him and
what she’d seen. Instead she felt a strange calm.

“That was a vampire that attacked us,”
she said softly, watching as he nodded in confirmation. “Are you a vampire?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what exactly are you?”

“I’m a man, mostly.” He moved forward
so she could feel the raise of his chest brush against her breast. “I can’t
explain exactly what resides inside me, Thorn. Not yet.”

Thorn could feel the pull of the
attraction between them drawing her to raise her mouth to his as he leaned in
slowly. It was like a jolt of electricity shooting through her the moment their
lips touched. She knew he felt it as well when one arm wrapped about her waist as
he hauled her even closer, lacing the fingers of the other hand into her hair.

****

John
 
fought
hard to resist the aphrodisiac of Thorn's lips. It
called to the animal side of him, begging him to take her there in his room.
However, John knew it was too soon to make such a bold move. Making such a
misstep could easily send her running. Still, he couldn't break away from the
taste of her, the warmth of her mouth or the way she seemed to melt willingly
into his embrace.

A sharp, hard rap on his door
instantly killed the moment, forcing John to release Thorn and step away to
catch his breath.

“Sarg,” Hark's voice called through
the metal door. “The General wants you and the woman in the meeting room ASAP.”

With a slight smile and sigh, John
winked at a still breathless Thorn. Had his team member not interrupted,
he
 
wasn't
so certain
he could've resisted going further than a simple kiss.
 
He found her just too damn desirable.

“I think maybe we should find you
something other than my t-shirt to wear if you plan to leave the room.
Otherwise, I might have to fight my entire crew,” he told her before turning to
crack the door slightly so he could speak to Hark. “Could you see if Beamer
would loan Thorn a set of fatigues?”

“He’ll fork over a set or I’ll take them
off his scrawny little body,” Hark assured him before turning and disappearing
back toward the others.

Turning back around, John regarded a
fidgeting Thorn. Hiding his amusement at her discomfort, he grabbed a clean
shirt for himself out of the dresser, removed and tossed the one he’d slept in
into his small hamper. He could feel her watching him and he loved how it
felt.
 
A sharp knock signaled Hark’s
return. Answering the knock, John discovered the man had been true to his word
and brought a set of fatigues far closer to her size.

“Here you go, sweetie. Change into
these and I’ll meet you in the dayroom,” John told her as he tossed the uniform
onto the bed and headed for the door, stopping when he felt her hand on his
arm. He expected her to say something. Instead, she stood on her tiptoes and
kissed him.

“Thank you again for everything,” she
whispered against his lips before turning to snatch up the clothes and bounce
into the bathroom.

John watched her close the door
behind her, his chest so full he thought it might burst. Damn he could get use
to having her around. Then again, he could get use to having her everywhere.
She was like a bright light at the end of a very dark tunnel. John often
laughed at the idea of falling in love, especially at the idea that someone
could steal his breath with just a smile. However, now he understood those
sentiments rang true.

“I had to roll up the pant legs and
cinch the buckles at the waist but I think it works,” Thorn told him as she
stepped out decked from the neck down in desert camo.

“You look great,” he told her,
holding out his hand. “Let’s go see what Striate wants.”

John stood a bit taller when she
placed her hand trustingly in his own and they headed toward the door. He knew
his entire crew would be standing by to catch their first glimpse at his guest.
Though it would most likely be a bit uncomfortable for Thorn, he couldn't wait
for them to see the beauty of his woman.
His woman?
Where had that come from?

“Hello Gorgeous,” Caleb said, moving
forward toward them, eyeing Thorn with each step.

John growled low and primal, a
warning to the younger man to back away from what he saw as his.