Hearts of the Hunted (5 page)

As it turned out, though,
I wasn't the one he attacked. I was already well past the mouth of
a dark alley when I heard someone say, in a quiet, controlled
voice, "Stop. Be quiet and come with me." The clacking of heels
that I had been mostly ignoring behind me stopped, and my heart
stuttered in my chest. I raised my arm to signal Hannah and ran for
the alley.

Halfway down the alley, a
man in dark clothes was dragging a blonde by the arm. She moved
stiffly, as if she'd been drugged, but she didn't make any effort
to resist him, and I felt chilled to the core. If I called for
help, he had only to speak to me, and I'd be just as helpless. My
only hope lay in surprising him.

Unfortunately, I was
wearing three-inch heels, and I found my normal stealth impossible.
He turned as I started to clack down the mouth of the alley, and
his eyes fastened on mine as he barked, "Stop." I did, freezing in
place. Why had I ever wanted to move in the first place? This was a
very good place to stand. I felt like I could stand in that place
forever.

The blonde in his grip
raised one hand to her head, turning to me with a puzzled
expression on her face.

"He's going to rape you,"
I said.

Her eyes went wide, and
she tried to step back, her breath rising to a frightened squeak
when she was caught up short by his hand, gripped tight around her
upper arm.

"Shut up," he snarled at
me, and I closed my lips tightly over my teeth. Why are people
always talking, anyway?

The blonde started to
scream, and he slapped her to make her stop. "You shut up, too," he
said, but he looked worried, and I suddenly found that I was moving
again, my mouth opening in a snarl. So, he could only control one
of us at a time.

The woman's mouth shut
with a click of teeth as she bit off the beginnings of a fresh
scream. I slammed into him an instant later, and then Hannah was
behind me, gathering the woman into her arms and pushing her away,
telling her to run as the rapist and I hit the dirty ground
together.

I grabbed hold of him, but
he punched me and shoved away. I saw stars as my head snapped back,
but my fingers tightened reflexively, and he made a pained sound as
he jerked free. He started to reach for me, but Hannah shouted
something and he hesitated to look in her direction. He kicked me
in the ribs instead, and spat the word ’bitch‘. He ran away as I
curled into a ball, gasping for breath.

I managed to get enough
air for a moan, and Hannah knelt beside me, her hands moving over
my body as if to check for injuries. I winced when she found the
right spot.

"The girl?" I gasped,
trying to unfurl from my pained crouch.

"She got away. God knows
what she'll say about tonight, maybe just that someone attacked her
and two women helped fight him off. Maybe she'll think she was
drugged." I started to struggle upright, and she hooked her hands
under my arms to help me to my feet. "God, Camille, I'm so sorry! I
saw you run into the alley, and I froze. I was so scared! I wanted
to come help you, but I couldn't make my feet move..."

"But then you did," I
said. I let her help me out of the alley before I stooped to pull
the shoes off. I didn't need to impress anyone else tonight, and
I'd rather walk over hot coals than wear the heels all the way back
to her apartment.

"I heard that girl start
to scream, and I was so scared that it was you. That he was hurting
you, and it was all my fault." She pulled me into her arms and I
tried not to wince when she squeezed me. The pain was dizzying, but
then so was her scent, and I tried to relax into the pleasure of
her body. It didn't entirely work, and when I whimpered, she
released me with a gasp. "I'm sorry!"

"You came in anyway," I
said, "That's what's important. And check it out." I held up my
still-clenched fist, and in the yellow glow of the streetlight we
could both clearly see several strands of hair caught between my
fingers. "We can give this to Jack and maybe find this guy—stop him
for good."

Hannah squeezed my free
hand and kissed my cheek, and the pain of my bruises faded somewhat
in the glow of her approval.

Chapter 5

The news the next morning was not nearly so glowing. I'd
emailed Jack as soon as we got back to the apartment, and we'd
fallen asleep together. In the morning, with nary a shower between
us and mascara smeared around my eyes, we sat in front of the
laptop in sullen silence. There was, officially, no crime, no
report, and no grounds to request that the DNA from the hair be
run, particularly by a junior officer who had no business making
such requests. The hair was useless.

"So what the hell did we
spend last night running around risking our lives for?" she
demanded hotly. She jumped up from the couch and started to pace,
looking just like a very angry cat.

"We saved some woman from
the same thing that happened to you," I reminded her.

That caught her up short
and she stopped, turning guiltily to face me. "You're right. I'm so
fixated on getting revenge for what happened to me that I lost
sight of what we're really trying to do—stop him from hurting any
more women."

"Score one for us. It was
terrible, what he did—what he does. Maybe next week I can use my
trick to go stalk him. We definitely can't use the same strategy
again. He saw my face. And I don't think I'm his type,
anyway."

"Your poor face," Hannah
said, sitting down again. She lifted a hand to my bruised cheek and
I didn't bother to hide the flinch when she touched my sore
cheekbone. The pain was well worth the sympathy, anyway. "Do your
ribs still hurt?"

"A bit, but only if I
touch them. I really don't think I need to go to the hospital."
She'd tried to insist last night when she realized how badly
bruised they were, but it didn't hurt to breathe, and after so long
on the run, I was terrified of hospitals.

She frowned as she
considered me. "You're a mess."

"Thanks," I said sourly. I
could pretend offense, but there was simply no way to argue the
point. I was bruised, dirty, and covered in streaked makeup; her
sheets were going to need a good washing, too.

"Come on, let's get you
cleaned up," she said, and reached down to pull me to my feet. I
held onto her hand and let her lead me into the bathroom, and then
slowly strip my dirtied and torn clothes away.

"I ruined your skirt," I
said, noticing the big hole for the first time.

"Yeah, well, I feel like
your face is sort of my fault, so maybe we can call it even." She
pushed me into the shower, and I hissed as the water hit my sore
skin and described scrapes and scratches I hadn't realized I'd even
had.

"Ow. Fuck! I don't feel so
bad about it anymore," I groused, and she laughed as she stepped in
to join me.

It was the first time I'd
seen her naked, and I stood in awe of her perfect curves and long,
graceful limbs. I felt gawkish and ugly beside her, but her smile
was warm and sweet as she poured that flowery shampoo into her hand
and massaged it into my scalp. I stared into her eyes and felt
myself leaning closer, wanting desperately to touch and not sure
how to ask.

"You know," I blurted out,
"you wouldn't even need to use your power to get me to kiss you
right now."

It was stupid, but maybe
it was the right thing to say anyway, because she laughed and
leaned into me, pressing herself against me from her lips right
down to the soft curls of her pubic hair. Her breasts flattened
against me, soft and full and inviting, and her fingers curled in
my soapy hair as she delivered a kiss that made me forget every bit
of pain in my body.

When she stepped back and
told me to rinse, I obeyed as deliriously as if she had indeed used
her power to suggest it, wanting only to please her so that she
would kiss me like that again.

"Turn around," she said.
"I need to do the conditioner."

I turned happily, and she
rewarded me by running her fingers up the uninjured side of my body
before she coaxed the conditioner through my hair. Then, she said
the thing I'd been hoping for in the back of my mind. "Would you
like to wash my hair for me?"

I bit back a groan of
pleasure and nodded, and Hannah turned and wet her hair in the hot
spray. She would have turned to give me her back, but I stopped her
with a hand on her arm, loading the shampoo into my palm and
stepping closer to apply it. My lips locked on hers as I massaged
the soap into her hair, and she let me take what I wanted from the
kiss, devouring her mouth and swallowing each sweet sigh and soft
moan as they bubbled up from her.

Her hair was probably long
past clean by the time we broke apart so she could rinse, and I
silently thanked the building super for the apparently enormous hot
water tanks. The conditioner went faster because she had to turn to
let me rub it into the very tips of her hair, but when she turned
around again, she was holding a sudsy sea sponge, and I realized
that this was just going to keep getting better.

She washed my face first,
using some sort of extra mild soap. I did my best not to flinch
when she had to scrub the mascara off of my bruised cheek; I knew
she was as gentle as she could be. I rinsed the sponge and returned
the favor, even though she hadn't worn any makeup on our little
adventure the night before. I traced over every contour of her
upturned face, taking the opportunity of her closed eyes to truly
study every line and curve of bone and muscle. She was a piece of
art, and I couldn't help but admire her.

When our faces were clean
and rinsed, she took the sponge back and cupped my good cheek in
her soft hand. "You really are beautiful, you know," she told me. I
started to say something sarcastic, but she dropped a soft peck on
my lips before I could speak. "You are."

And that was that. I kept
my mouth shut and enjoyed the sensations as she poured shower gel
onto the sponge and started to massage it into my skin. She washed
my neck and collarbones and traveled down my arms, returning to the
center and holding my gaze as her hands paid special attention to
the cleansing of my breasts.

"I look like a boy," I
cracked, unable to stop myself, and she pinched one soapy nipple so
hard that I yipped.

"If we both had huge tits,
then we couldn't get as close," she pointed out, demonstrating how
close we could get. She turned my head aside to nibble at my
jawline and ear, and one thumb traced circles around my nipple,
turning my breath into a series of ragged gasps. "I like your
tits," she said, right into my ear. Her voice sent a jolt of
tingling pleasure down my spine.

"I like yours better," I
gasped, daring for the first time to really touch that bare flesh,
lifting them and rubbing my thumbs over her nipples, catching at
the very tips with my nails. She mewed sensuously and arched her
back, presenting them to me, and I took advantage of the moment,
pinching and squeezing and gently massaging.

Then, she stepped back and
ran the sponge over my flat belly, carefully washing my ribs where
a bruise spread like spilled wine, and then moving down my legs and
skimming over my pussy. So that was the limit, then. I consoled
myself that even if I weren't about to get laid, I was at least
getting to third base with the most gorgeous woman I'd ever
known.

And then she surprised me
again. As she finished with my legs, she traced the sponge up my
inner thigh, and then pushed it right up into the juncture of my
thighs with a wicked smile. A second later, it was her hand and not
the sponge massaging at the flesh between my legs. I sighed and
spread myself open for her as her fingers dipped inside me, and she
wrapped her other arm around me and held me close, her palm
pressing firmly into my clit as her fingers slid deep
inside.

In a moment, I was
grateful for the support. My legs trembled and my head felt light
as she drove me steadily toward the peak of pleasure. I whimpered
and sighed into her ear, gaining volume as the pressure against my
clit caused an answering pressure inside me to rise and rise. She
dug her nails into my back as I finally threw back my head and
shouted in pleasure, that promise within me exploding to flood my
body with waves and waves of tingling delight.

All I was aware of for
several long moments were the feel of her body against mine and the
smell of her sweet shampoo. She laughed when I pulled back from
her, stunned and wrung out with the aftereffects of my orgasm. I
watched as she soaped herself up, skipping the special attention
she'd shown certain parts of my body. I was too exhausted to mind
more than a little that I didn't get to pay her back.

"I've got to say, you look
a lot more presentable now," she said, smiling as she splashed some
water at my face. Then, she turned the water off and got out,
offering me the fluffy towel first. When I was done, she dried
herself off with quick efficiency, and then installed me on the
couch while she stripped the dirty bedding off and replaced it with
a set of smooth cotton sheets the color of lilacs.

I'd had plenty of time to
recover my wits, and I was beginning to think that it was time to
take charge and give her some pleasure back. I waited for a few
minutes after she'd gone into the room with the fresh sheets and
then vanished. Her back was to me as she smoothed the sheets, and I
slipped close as she turned to stuff a pillow into the case. I
waited until she'd tossed it onto the bed and turned away before I
climbed onto the bed and posed. She turned back and frowned at the
wrinkled, divoted surface of the bed.