Golden Threads (14 page)

"Don't do this to me."

She got up from the couch, moving jerkily, and took a few steps away from him. It didn't help. The bond between them was a living thing, quivering tensely in the air, strained almost to the breaking point. It hurt her, pulled at her like nothing she'd ever felt before, and it would have been so easy to give in to him and stop the torment.

So easy.
And so impossible.

She turned her back to him, feeling something hot on her cheeks. It was hard to see, but she wasn't looking at anything anyway, except something inside her where it was blurry too. The thick sound of her own voice startled her. "I have to. I won't let you tear yourself apart trying to decide. It's my decision. And I've decided."

She didn't expect what happened then, couldn't have anticipated it. For an instant, she felt the pain of being tugged sharpen almost unbearably. Even in her anguish, she was conscious of awe; she had known the strange bond of affinity they shared was a deep one, but until then she hadn't understood how complete it was. It was an empathic thing, and she felt his raw emotions as keenly as she felt her own. He was fighting, she realized, trying to draw back from her emotionally because it was instinct to shy away from being known so totally.

Then, suddenly, the dreadful pain eased and she could breathe again. He was behind her, his arms enclosing her and drawing her back against his tense body. He was swearing softly, his beautiful voice rough and shaken, the sound of it not quite defeat but something close.

It wasn't his pride or ego that had absorbed the blow she had dealt, but a deeper, more nameless thing. And he had given in, not because of her threat, but because of what his own struggle against that threat had done to them both.

Lara turned in his arms, her own going up around his neck. The chaos of emotions she felt were hers and his, wild and burning inside her. She wanted with a fury that was almost numbing, like something cut loose inside her. She wanted freedom for herself, her roots back and to choose the direction of her own life, wanted justice for her father—and, most of all, wanted Devon. He was in her heart, embedded more deeply than her soul, yet what she wanted most from him he hadn't offered and she couldn't ask for.

"All right."
His voice was still shaken, he could hear it, and he could feel the aftershocks inside him. "All right, Lara." A part of him refused to believe what had just happened, yet he couldn't deny the inescapable reality of it; the lingering agony he felt was all too genuine.

With an adulthood of secrets and shadows at his back, the shock of realizing how certainly she defined—and felt herself—his emotions had caused him to withdraw automatically from her. Or, at least, try to. It had been like reaching the end of a rope after an abrupt fall, a wrenching halt that had quite literally knocked the breath from him and hurt like nothing he'd ever known before.

"You can't choose!" she said fiercely, staring up at him out of wet green eyes. "I won't let you."

Alone all his life, Devon couldn't quite believe in this. The affinity he had sensed with her he had assumed to be based on the loneliness they both felt, and the overwhelming passion they had shared seemed to spring from the same source despite her astonishing words of love.
But not this, not this amazing tie that was a tangible thing.
This was something else, something too starkly powerful to come only from loneliness.

"All right," he repeated, giving in because there was nothing else he could do; despite his doubts about the reality of this, he could see that his own struggles were hurting her as well as himself—and he couldn't hurt her.

He kissed her, needing to soothe the pain with a touch. If he had thought about it at all, he would have believed that the strange, raw emotions between them would have been a kind of barrier against desire, that only tenderness was possible at such a ruthless moment; but he was wrong. The dull ache of pain receded in a rush, like a wave retreating from the shore to make way for the next, and hunger washed over him.

"Lara," he murmured huskily against her lips. A throaty sound escaped her, and her eyes were darkening, fixed on his with wonder and need.

He lifted her into his arms without thought, carrying her down the short hallway to the bedroom. Just as it had been the night before, he felt a certainty in his inability to control this. And just as before, he felt the same uncontrolled hunger in Lara. He stood her by the bed long enough for their clothes to be flung aside, and there was a surge of almost savage delight in him because she was as eager as he.

Lara pressed her naked body against his, and her hands stroked compulsively over the solid muscles of his back, feeling them move under her touch.

Dear Lord, she wanted him so badly... It was like a craving in her soul. Her mouth explored his throat and shoulders and chest, glorying in the hard strength of his body, the warmth of it. All her senses expanded with a rush that was wildly exciting, until she was so acutely aware of him, it was as if only he existed. As if only he
were
real.

And her excitement built as she felt his response. His breath was coming as roughly as hers; his flesh was burning as if some mortal fever raged inside him, like hers; and she could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his powerful body shuddering as she touched him.

"How I want you," Devon muttered in a rasping voice, lifting her naked body easily into his arms.

Lara clung to him as he lowered her onto the bed and joined her. "Yes," she whispered, her throat aching as she stared up at his taut face, conscious of a sense of awe that she could make him want her with the almost desperate hunger she felt herself and saw reflected in his eyes.

She forgot the pain of before, forgot the sword hanging over her head and the dangerous, difficult times that certainly lay before her. She could think only of Devon and the feelings he roused in her. His mouth brushed between her breasts, then trailed fire across the flushed, swollen curves. His hands were caressing her body with sure knowledge, bringing every nerve ending wildly alive and quivering.

She was burning, aching with sweet torment that seemed to fill her consciousness until there was nothing else. Some part of her was aware that her body began to move against him, restless and wanting, her hands shaking as she held on to him with a rising urgency. "Devon..."

His mouth was on her breasts, moving with exquisite slowness as if he had all the time and patience in the world, driving her mad with his teasing. And yet his own body was taut and shaking, his handsome face fixed in a look of control that was almost masklike. And his eyes were blazing, the shadows burned away by a primitive inner fire.

Devon felt that fire intensely, roaring inside him.
and
some deep part of him recognized that only one emotion was powerful enough to fuel such an inferno. It was a bittersweet realization, because he was convinced that Lara's love for him, born in a prison, could not survive freedom.

In helping to free Lara, he would lose her.

Without even thinking about it, he followed his instincts. The bond between them was amazingly strong; he would do everything in his power to strengthen it even more. He wanted to fill her with himself, make her a part of him until she'd never be rid of him.

A growl rumbled in his throat as he held her shaking body firmly and kept a rigid grip on his own threadbare control. Lord, she was so beautiful, as wild in his arms as the emotions ripping through him... as necessary as his next breath.

"Devon."
She moaned softly and tugged at his shoulders, desperate to feel him inside her. The spiraling tension was building unbearably until she thought she'd scream under the shattering force of it. He resisted her plea, teasing her aching breasts with fiery licks and maddening nibbles, letting her feel the sharpness of his teeth and the soothing touch of his tongue.

Wild with need, Lara instinctively fought his restraint with a seduction of her own. Her trembling hands moved over him, exploring hard muscles, tracing the straightness of his spine with just the tips of her fingers. She could feel him tense even more, heard another growl rumble from his throat, but it wasn't enough.

She slid one hand down his hard stomach, closing her fingers around him. She heard his hoarse gasp, and her own excitement spiraled violently as she felt the throbbing power of him, hot and rigid in her hand. She stroked him slowly, watching his vibrant eyes grow hotter, his face tighten in a spasm of pleasure that was almost agony.

Devon groaned raggedly, and his control shattered. Swiftly, he rose above her, slipping between her cradling legs and pulling them high around him. He thought he'd go out of his mind when her hot, moist flesh tightly surrounded him, and he buried himself in her with a primal need to merge their bodies completely.

Lara responded with all the fire he had ignited in her, accepting his almost savage passion with her own lithe strength and a consuming need that matched his. In her mind were words of love, cried out in silence, because the only sound she could make was a wordless whimper of searing pleasure.

Neither of them mentioned the strangely painful, silent struggle between them; Lara knew they weren't ready for that yet. Devon still had his doubts, and she knew that too. He hadn't mentioned her declaration of love even when he could have during their verbal argument.

You love me. Don't do this to me.

He could have said that, and she might well have lost. But he hadn't. And she had won.

If it could be called winning. Lara was afraid. She knew the odds were against her survival. The stakes were too high to allow the cartel the luxury of time to consider her fate; a dead possible threat would always be judged less trouble than a live one.

Much less trouble.

All she had as a bargaining chip was the elusive evidence against them. It might not exist, but she had to convince the cartel's lurking watcher that it did, and as quickly as possible. She had to remove all pressure from the watcher, convince him that he had the luxury of time and at least a chance of obtaining the evidence from her.

"It's been less than a week since the first move was made against you," Devon said thoughtfully as they planned that afternoon. "Maybe we can steal a few more days. It's chancy, though."

Lara was already counting on her acting abilities; she was being utterly matter-of-fact about the situation. "No more so than just waiting. At least this way, we'll give them all a few things to think about."

"Maybe too many things."
Devon had given in because he had no choice about it, but he was using every ounce of his experience and intelligence to anticipate and plan for every possible reaction to the various threads of their strategy. His biggest concern was, of course, Lara's safety—and that was by far the most difficult certainty to ensure. "And I don't like your being out in the open."

"Just for a few minutes," she reminded him. "It's necessary. I'll have to go right
away,
otherwise he won't believe the agent has had time to get here."

"I have four men around you; one of them can follow you to the newspaper office."

"And he'd certainly notice I was being followed. He’ll be looking for it. We can't let that happen, Devon." They were, she thought, risking a great deal just by assuming that the watcher was indeed watching. Because if he wasn't, their plan was ruined before they had even begun.

"There are people all over town today; he wouldn't notice anyone following you." He met her stubborn gaze for a long moment,
then
swore with more resignation than heat. "Dammit, will you let me at least try to protect you?"

Lara smiled a little. "You will. I'm counting on that. Look, the walk to and from the newspaper office will take no more than half an hour; it's only a few blocks away, and as you said, the sidewalks are crowded today."

Devon frowned at her, but he couldn't really disagree with her reasoning. If the cartel had intended a quick bullet to end the problem Lara represented, it would have acted days ago. Clearly the members of that cartel wanted to avoid drawing just the sort of attention an assassin's shot would provoke. And the same reasoning applied to the possibility of kidnapping; a grab in broad daylight on a crowded street tended to be noticed.

Especially in a small town.

Sighing, Devon allowed himself to be led to the door. He had to leave first in order to be blamelessly out of the way while Lara set the wheels in motion. And he had to set a few in
motion
himself.

"How long will you be?" she asked, showing the first sign of nervousness.

He pulled her into his arms. "A couple of hours, I think," he answered, hating the idea of being away from her even that long. He bent his head and kissed her thoroughly, and when she instantly responded he was aware that if he didn't leave soon, he wouldn't be able to.

"I'll be here," she promised in an unsteady voice.

That hope was too deeply rooted in him to be easily voiced. He simply nodded and left her. Outside the building, he paused almost imperceptibly on the steps and, without seeing to, directed a brief comment in a very low voice to one of the gardeners, who was busily spreading damp mulch around the roots of a prickly holly bush.