Remember Me (Storm Lords Book 1) (5 page)

She wanted him. He could sense it. Excitement warred with fear. He could give in to neither. If he allowed her to glimpse even a fraction of what he was feeling, he had an idea she would bolt. The thought d
oused the fire burning in his belly.

When he was sure he could do so without embarrassing himself, he stood up. “So we have a deal then?” He held out a hand to her.

“It appears so.” She looked at his outstretched hand but didn’t make a move. “I’m going to
have to head back to my apartment first, pick up some stuff, and make a stop at the office to clear my desk.”

“I have a car and driver waiting downstairs for you.” He wanted to go with her, but he thought it might appear odd. And besides, he was sure that
Lilith would be watching him, and he didn’t want to draw attention to Phoebe. So he’d satisfied himself by appointing Finn as her bodyguard and chauffeur. Finn would take care of her.

Her brows drew together. “A car? You were so certain I’d agree?”

“I did
my research. I was told you were fair but would do anything for a good story.”

Her frown deepened. “Not quite anything.”

He smiled at the suspicion in her voice. “Don’t worry—I’ll not ask you for anything you’re unwilling to give.”

“Why doesn’t that make m
e feel any better,” she muttered. But she pushed herself up and held out a hand to him.

He took it in his own, tightened his fingers around her, and a jolt of shock ran through him. Her eyes widened—she must have felt it as well. She tugged at her hand, bu
t he held on for a moment longer, willing her to remember.

In the end, he had to let her go. She flexed her fingers, wiped her palm surreptitiously down the leg of her pants, and gave a little shake of her head.

“Right, I’ll be leaving then.”

He nodded, th
en turned and stood staring out the windows, hands clenched at his sides while he listened to her walk away.

The door clicked shut, and he whirled around and stared hungrily after her. She felt something. He knew she did.

But would it be enough to break th
rough the barriers of time and death?

***

Phoebe pressed the button for the elevator then held out her hand in front of her. It still tingled where he had clasped it and a fine tremor was visible. She took a few deep breaths, trying to pull herself togeth
er. What was it about the man that set her so off balance? He was gorgeous, but she’d interviewed gorgeous men before and not been affected in the least.

She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting him to come after her, but the double doors remained clo
sed. No way could she let him affect her. She needed to stay objective if she wanted to do this story.

The elevator doors slid open. A man stood, obviously waiting for her. He wore faded jeans, boots, and a long black leather trench coat. Tall, with overlo
ng blond hair, and gray eyes. Despite the differences in coloring, he reminded her of Cade. She’d seen him somewhere before, and it came to her—he was the same bodyguard who had helped her after the explosion in Afghanistan.

He held out a hand. “I’m Finn.”

She took it cautiously, anticipating that same jolt of shock she had experienced with Cade, but she felt nothing except the warmth of his palm against hers. Relief washed through her.

Finn grinned. “Cade asked me to look after you.”

“I don’t need looking
after.” She pulled her hand free and stalked into the elevator.

Day 2

He hadn’t been lying. He expected her to shadow him.

The first day was—thankfully—nearly over. Exhaustion tugged at her mind. Cade never stopped. She’d sat in on all his
meetings, but so far, she had nothing. Everything was above board and on the level. But then he was hardly likely to do anything underhanded right in front of her. In which case, how was she supposed to get her story? He glanced up and raised an eyebrow w
hen he caught her staring. “Disappointed?” he asked.

She frowned. “In what?”

“That I haven’t lied, bribed, or otherwise behaved in despicable manner.”

“Yes.”

He gave a short burst of laughter at her answer. Then he peered at her closely. “You look tired.”

“I’m fine.”

“Did you sleep okay? I was going to check up on you last night, but thought you might construe it the wrong way, and I wanted you to relax.”

Relax?

Was he crazy? She wasn’t going to admit that she’d been on edge all evening waiting for him to s
how up.

Finn had driven her back. He’d been a good companion, though he’d refused to open up about Cade—except to say that they had known each other a long time—and she’d relaxed in his presence, as she suspected she never would around Cade.

She hadn’t see
n Cade again, but Finn had showed her to the apartment she was to stay in and left her there. The place was luxurious, and the fridge well stocked, but she’d put off eating anything, expecting Cade to, if not turn up, then call her, and suggest they eat to
gether.

When she’d finally accepted that it wasn’t going to happen, she’d had to contend with an extremely unwelcome dose of disappointment. She’d told herself she was an idiot, taken a long hot bath in an attempt to soothe herself, and gone to bed.

After
hours of tossing and turning, she’d managed to sleep, only to have her old nightmare return to haunt her.

Now, she glanced from Cade to her laptop, trying to avoid remembering what had come next. But the dream was still imprinted indelibly on her mind.

She
was tied to a stake, and all around her, a mob was jeering, calling for her death.

Why did they hate her so?

One man approached, triumph in his dark eyes, a burning torch in his hand. He touched the flame to the branches piled around her. The crackle of t
he fire sounded in her ears as the flames caught the pitch-soaked wood.

The stink of roasting flesh filled her nostrils as the fire licked at her limbs and her skin turned black and peeled from her bones. But the physical agony faded, insignificant compare
d to what she was feeling inside. Her heart was breaking. Her soul ripped from her body.

They’d dragged him away, but beneath the roar of the mob, she heard him calling. “Eleni—”

She opened her mouth to scream his name…and awoke, her skin clammy, nausea ro
iling in her gut. She’d rushed to the bathroom and been violently sick, heaving until there was nothing left in her stomach. The dream had lingered in her mind as it always did, but this time something was different. Eleni? She’d never heard the name befor
e, had she? Not in her dreams, but something hovered at the edge of her mind.

Afterward, she hadn’t tried to go back to sleep, knowing from experience that it would be impossible. Instead she’d put on a pot of coffee, got out her laptop, and gone over her
extensive notes on Stormlord Securities.

Now, eighteen hours later, she couldn’t suppress a yawn as the sleepless night and the busy day caught up with her. A dull ache throbbed at her temple, and she rubbed her forehead to ease the pain. Glancing up, she
found Cade still watching her. He rose to his feet, and came around to stand in front of her.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You need to take things slowly.” He reached out a hand, and she took it without thinking, allowing him to tug her to her feet. “Let me
look,” Cade said. “Please,” he added when she remained unmoving.

She bit her lip, but nodded and turned around.

His warm palm rested for a moment on her neck, then he tipped her head forward and ran his fingers through her hair, slowing as he felt the rais
ed scar where she’d slammed into a rock that day in the compound. She closed her eyes at his touch.

“I should have been more careful,” he said.

“You saved my life.”

His fingers shifted to stroke down the line of her throat and little ripples of awareness
shivered through her. For a moment, they rested on the spot where her neck met her shoulder, his thumb rubbing over the pulse point. Phoebe raised her head and opened her eyes. She stood, facing the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sun had set hours ago, and
in the darkened glass, she saw their reflection.

Cade’s tall figure towered a good foot above her. His gaze caught hers in the glass, his eyes glowing, then he slowly lowered his head and kissed the side of her neck.

His lips were soft, and she felt the ti
p of his tongue, hot and moist, as it tasted her, tracing lazy patterns on her skin. The air was dragged from her lungs, and the strength seeped out of her limbs. His hands tightened on her shoulders as she swayed back against him.

What had happened to kee
ping everything on a professional level? She knew she needed to move, but stayed rooted to the spot while his mouth hardened against her. She could sense the tension radiating from him.

He drew back, and a small mewl of protest emerged from her lips. Then
he turned her in his arms.

Now.

Now was the time to move. It wasn’t too late. She could just pick up her laptop and say goodnight. And tomorrow she could pretend this had never happened.

But she didn’t move. Instead, she stood impassive in his arms, her wh
ole body yearning for him, her eyes roaming over his fierce beauty.

In her mind, she had a sudden image of that long, hard body on her, in her. The thought tightened her nipples, drenched her sex. She wanted to feel that more than anything in her life. As
she swayed toward him, his eyes gleamed with a savage satisfaction, his fingers tightened on her upper arms, and he dragged her to him.

Her hands splayed on his chest, and beneath the silk she felt hard muscle, the rapid thud of his heart. All thoughts lef
t her head as he leaned down and took her mouth with his.

She lost herself in his kiss. His palms glided down over the length of her back to cup her ass and pull her harder into him so his arousal pressed against her belly. It wasn’t enough, and his finger
s dug into her upped arms. He lifted her slightly, backed her up against the cool glass of the window, and held her there with the strength of his rock hard body. His hands slid from her ass to her thighs, shifting her so his erection pushed at the core of
her body and her insides turned molten. She rubbed herself against him, wrapping her legs around him, while her hands tangled in his hair, holding him. She was close—so close—the pleasure building inside her.

Cade kissed her mouth, her cheek, her eyes…sma
ll biting kisses, as though he wanted to devour her.

“Eleni…”

He whispered the name through the kisses. Phoebe went instantly still as the word broke through the fog of desire engulfing her, dousing her in a deluge of icy cold.

Her hands moved to his shoul
ders, and she pushed him away. For a moment, his grip tightened, then he loosened his hold, lowering her so she stood on her own feet again.

Pulling free of him, she took a shaky step forward, and another. Coming up against the desk, she put out a hand to
the cool steel to steady herself, trying to clear her brain of the haze of lust and desire.

Eleni.

The name from her dream. And now, as her brain slowly began to function again, she remembered where she had heard it before. Cade had spoken it in the compou
nd in Afghanistan, just before the world had exploded.

She glanced at him. He was watching her, his expression wary, though his dark eyes still glowed with residual desire. Regret nudged at her mind, but she forced it down. She needed to understand what wa
s happening here. “Who’s Eleni?”

He didn’t answer the question. Instead, he crossed the room and poured them both a whisky, placing the glasses on the coffee table before sinking onto the sofa.

“Sit down,” he said.

She gritted her teeth. “I don’t want to s
it down. I want to know who Eleni is.”

“Sit down, and I’ll tell you.” When she didn’t move he continued, a faint thread of impatience lacing his voice. “Sit down, Phoebe. I won’t touch you again…unless you want me to.”

The strange thing was she believed hi
m. Trouble was, while she might trust Cade, she wasn’t so sure she trusted herself. Desire still burned in her blood, and it scared her. She’d never responded to anyone so hard and so fast. Always in the past, she had kept a small part of herself aloof.

Sh
e inched around and perched on the edge of the sofa as far from him as she could and clasped her hands on her lap.

“So…” she said when he didn’t speak.

“Eleni was my wife.”

A cold hard lump settled in her stomach. “You’re married?”

“I said ‘was.’ Eleni is
dead. She died a long time ago.”

Phoebe scanned her brain for all that she had learned of Cade during her research. She had never once come across any reference to a wife. And why the hell would he call her by his wife’s name? She forced down her irritatio
n; the poor woman was dead.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were ever married.”

He shrugged. “I’m a private person, and I like to keep my personal life out of the media. And as I said—it was a long time ago.” He picked up his drink, swallowed the amber liqui
d in one gulp, and set the glass back down. “You remind me of her, but I’m sorry, it was insensitive of me. I just sometimes forget.”

“I look like her?”

For a minute, she thought he wouldn’t answer. He glanced away as if undecided as to what to tell her. “
Not really. It’s more a matter of mannerisms.”

Phoebe stared at the carpet while she sipped her own drink. She sensed that Cade was hiding something but had no clue what. The lump still lodged in her stomach, and the hand holding her glass had a fine tremo
r.

The pull of desire still lingered, her skin tingling where he had touched her, and she was uncomfortably aware that between her thighs her sex was swollen and wet with need. Despite what had happened, she still wanted him, and the thought scared her, as
though she sensed that he had the power to overwhelm her. If she gave in to him, she would lose some part of herself. She had a flashback to her nightmare, the feeling of loss. If that happened in reality, she doubted she would ever recover.

Raising her g
aze, she looked into his face. “I don’t want you to touch me again.”

Shock flared in his eyes. “Eleni is gone.”

Phoebe bit her lip. “It’s nothing to do with that.” She wasn’t certain she was telling the complete truth. The thought of Cade loving another wo
man left her with a bitter taste in her mouth.

Mine.

The word echoed through her mind, shocking her to the core. Where had that thought come from? She pushed it aside. “I’m a journalist, and I have a story to write. I don’t want any feelings for you compro
mising my ability to be objective.”

“You still believe there’s a story to tell?”

“I don’t know. But I’m paid to do a job, and I’m going to carry on looking. I want you to promise you won’t touch me again, or I’m walking.”

He stared at her for several long
moments. Finally, he nodded. “I promise. I won’t touch you again…unless you ask.”

Phoebe opened her mouth to say it was never going to happen, but he rose to his feet and shoved his hands in his pocket. “Well then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”