Turning Payne (13 page)

"Wake up," Turner growled softly in Riley's ear.

She blinked. The room's bright light irritated her eyes, making her head pound. Turner's face came into focus, and an audible sigh escaped her lips. Was it wrong that just the sight of him made everything else fade into oblivion?

Worry filled his grey eyes. Dirt streaked his face and there was a small cut above one brow. She reached out and touched his whiskered cheek.

Riley swallowed painfully. Where was she? She glanced around the unfamiliar room. Some sort of medical facility. 

"You're safe," he crooned, stroking her cheek.

He leaned over her, kissed her forehead, the bridge of her nose, and then let his lips lightly brush against her mouth. She closed her eyes and let his warmth surround her, comfort her.

"Do you remember what happened?" he asked against her lips.

She opened her eyes and found him watching her with a guarded expression.

She touched the bandage on her forehead and winced. "Kiera?" she croaked, her throat raw. She tried to sit up. Her head spun. "I need to see her."

Turner slid an arm around her waist to steady her. "Slow down."

"Where is she?"

"She's being monitored. There's been a few…complications, and Jacob thought it best to keep her in isolation until her condition stabilizes."

Riley shook her head and pushed at Turner. "I don't care, I want to see her." She stepped off the bed, and a shooting pain sliced through her ankle. She sucked in a breath through her teeth.

"Damn it, Riley." He scooped her up.

"I can walk."

He responded with a growl, tightened his grip, and carried her out of the room. The hallway contained whitewashed brick walls and steel doors. She shivered at the sterile surroundings.

"Where are we?"

"We're at the Therian Agency Headquarters." He stopped in front of one of the doors and placed his thumb over a scanner on the wall. He cursed when the door didn't open. "Goddammit Jacob." He pounded on the door.

After a few moments, the door slid open and an extremely large, dark haired man with hypnotizing golden eyes waited for them on the other side.

Turner glowered at him. "Really?"

The man lifted and dropped his massive shoulders, a smug smile played across his lips, then he turned his eerie gaze on Riley. "Hello, Riley. I'm Jacob Oliver."

Riley wiggled in Turner's arms until he put her down, although he kept an arm tightly wrapped around her waist.

"You have my sister?"

Jacob tilted his head and studied her, his gaze sympathetic. "She's being monitored. It's best to let her body heal."

Riley wanted to scream in frustration. They were keeping something from her. "I want to see her now."

"Just tell her," Turner growled, his fingers dug into her hip. "She's been through enough already. There's no point keeping it from her."

"I just want the truth. Is Kiera okay?"

"She had a series of relapses," Jacob said, his voice unnaturally calm.

"Relapses?" Riley echoed.

"The treatment that Boyd—" Jacob cleared his throat. "That your father administered seems to be…unstable. She hasn't been able to maintain her human form and the constant shifting has caused some swelling in her brain. Until we understand how to help her we've put her in a medically induced coma."

Turner gripped her hand and squeezed gently. Riley held on, thankful for his strength.

Jacob gave her a thin smile. "She's not in any immediate danger and I promise you that we're doing everything we can for her." He gave Turner a pointed stare. "I suggest you both go home and get some sleep. I'll call as soon as we have any news."

Riley wanted to argue, but there was a sternness in Jacob's expression that stopped her. She leaned back into Turner, grateful he was with her. She didn't want to leave Kiera, but there was nothing else she could do for her at the moment.

Jacob crossed the room and opened the door. "Take your mate home, Turner. We'll discuss your suspension at another time."

Turner snarled and his eyes narrowed as he watched Jacob walk out the door.

"Suspension?" Riley asked, ignoring the
mate
comment. She was too overwhelmed to think about the consequences of what it meant.

Turner gave a noncommittal shrug. A slight smile twisted his lips and his silvery grey eyes glittered in the half-light. "Let's go home."

Home?
Did she even have a home anymore?

He didn't give her the chance to think about it. Once again, he scooped her up. Almost instinctively, her arms went around his neck. She went still, and was caught breathless when his gaze locked on her. His eyes were serious, full of promises that made her skin tingle. She was unable to miss the hungry intent in his expression.

"Turner," she whispered, guilt overriding her desire to give into him. To give him everything.

His mouth came down close to hers, so that she could feel his warm breath when he spoke. "Let me take care of you."

She sighed. How could she argue with that?

Despite Riley's insistence that she could walk, Turner lifted her from the SUV and carried her through the parking garage. He felt her tense as they walked past the dark corner where Boyd had shot him. She buried her face in his chest and he held her tight until they were safe in his apartment, the elevator doors shut securely behind them.

"I keep seeing his face," she whispered, her voice muffled. "In the shadows. When I close my eyes. Here in this room."

Gently, he placed her feet on the ground, keeping her snug against his body. "It's over now."

"Is it?" She looked up at him, her eyes haunted, her hands fisted at his chest. "Will it ever be over?"

He breathed in deeply and shook his head. As long as she was connected to him, he knew for her it never would be over—not for her. His chest tightened as the truth hit him. How could she look at him and not see her father's blood on her hands, her sister's suffering? He was a constant reminder of everything she'd lost.

He sighed and pressed his lips against the top of her head. "I don't know."

"I just want to forget."

That was one thing he could help her do. At least for a short time. "Kiss me, Riley."

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a desperate grip, holding onto him as if her life depended on it. Something inside him snapped. A deep, primitive need to protect her, to be everything for her.

Her suffering became his own. Her needs the only thing that mattered.

She lifted her chin, expectantly.

He lowered his lips to hers, running his hands up her back. Her mouth opened for his tongue, and he groaned as the taste of her filled his senses. She arched against him and met his kiss with a desperation that sent lust ripping at his loins. Her hands threaded through his hair and she rolled her hips against him. It had been too long since he'd touched her, and he gritted his teeth, struggling for control. If he wasn't careful he'd have her clothes off and be inside of her before they made it to his bedroom.

The pulsating vein on her neck called to him, begged him to bite it, to mark her and make her his. He ran his thumb along the delicate skin. His animal paced, pushing him to take what he wanted.

"I want you," he growled against her swollen lips.

She whimpered in response, but he knew she didn't understand the extent to how much he desired her, needed her. He could make her understand. One bite and the mating hormones would spread through her system, making her crave him as much as he hungered for her.

He wouldn't do that to her. Not until she truly understood what it meant to be marked, to be mated. He'd let her walk away before forcing that life sentence on her. Once the bond was created, there was nothing that could break it, no matter how much she wished it.

"Turner." His name was gentle on her lips, begging him for more.

Her arousal was strong, but it was only a hormonal response. For the first time in his life, he craved something else, something more. Something he wasn't sure Riley was willing to give him.

He pulled back and studied her. A soft smile played on her lips as she gazed up at him. An array of emotions swirled behind her green eyes—uncertainty, desire, sadness, hope. Whether he sensed it or saw it, he didn't know. He only knew that the woman gripped a piece of his soul and made him long for things he hadn't known he wanted. 

He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to mark her, the instinctive growl inside his chest that demanded all of her. 

Her fingers inched down his chest, and played with the hem of his shirt. He knew what she wanted, what she was too timid to ask for. For a few hours, he could make her forget, make the past week disappear, and reality not hurt so much.

"Make love to me," she whispered, her face flushed.

"There's nothing I want more." He kissed the tip of her nose, and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the bathroom. "But first, we both need a shower."

He turned on the heavy stream of water and took his time undressing her, studying every inch of her perfect body. There were dark bruises on her arms and legs. He knelt before her as he removed her pants. He cupped her injured ankle in his hands and bowed his head to run his lips over the swelling.

"I could make this feel better," he mumbled, more to himself than to her. The mating hormone would heal all of her injuries, but that wasn't a reason to mark her.

"You already have," she said, smiling down at him. The water cascaded down her breasts and over her stomach, making her body glisten. "Everything feels better when you're touching me."

He growled, anticipation making his cock twitch and his balls hot and heavy. He nipped and licked her inner thigh, trailing his tongue and lips along the sensitive flesh, making her gasp in pleasure.

Her legs were shaking when his tongue trailed over the sensitive nub, making her cry out. Her fingers tangled in his hair. She shuddered against him, his tongue working until she was on the brink of losing all control. She cried out his name, and he gripped her hips as he thrust his tongue deeper, savouring the sweet taste of her orgasm.

He held her steady when her body sagged against him, and stood, discarding his own, wet clothes in the corner of the shower.

Riley leaned against him, her eyes closed, her breath still uneven. Turner pumped shampoo into his palm and began scrubbing her scalp, using the foamy soap to scrub the dirt and soot off their bodies. When they were clean, he dried them off and carried her naked body to his bedroom.

He pushed the damp, auburn curls away from her face and lowered her on his bed. She stared up at him, her gaze languorous and filled with desire. Fuck, she was beautiful. He took her lips with a groan, the overwhelming need to mark her, dimmed only by the urge to possess her body and soul.

"Mine," he growled, as his teeth raked over her neck.

Yours
. The single word pushed into his brain. He didn't know if she'd meant to project the thought, but the unspoken word sent a thrill of hope down his spine.

She was where she belonged—in his bed, locked in his embrace, his mouth worshipping every lush curve of her body.

He moved between her thighs and groaned as her slick, sweet flesh encased the crest of his thick cock. She stretched around him, allowing him to penetrate deeper. Her thighs opened for him, her hips arching, her moans pleading for more.

Her nipples were hard, stiff, aching for him to touch them. His lips covered one, while he palmed her other breast, stroking the tip with his thumb. She was breathing hard, heavy. He nipped gently on her breast and surged deeper inside of her. She cried out, throwing her head back, eyes closed in ecstasy as he stroked deeper until he filled her completely.

He went still above her, his muscles tightly knotted in his back. He could feel the inferno building, making his balls tighten beneath his cock. She arched beneath him, and he nipped her chin, then licked it playfully.

She moved her hips, her body begging for more. Turner fought for control. He wanted to prolong the act, but he could feel his body ready to betray him. 

Her fingernails dug into his hips, his back. He pulled out slowly, so that only the engorged crest of his cock filled her. She moaned as if in pain, and he thrust back, deeper than he'd been before. Her mouth parted and he pressed his lips against hers, catching the cry of pleasure that tore from her throat.

"Don't hold back," she pleaded.

She clenched tight around him as he thrust inside her again. Shards of sensations tore through him. His gaze caught hers as he pumped harder, faster. Her face was flushed with desire, her eyes hooded.

He could sense her release. Her pleasure wrapped around his senses like a drug, as if he was connected to her more than just physically, but mentally, spiritually. His canines elongated and he could taste the sweet mating hormone flooding his mouth.

He pressed his mouth against her ear, and growled, "You don't know how much I want to mark you right now."

Her eyes widened, and she bit her bottom lip. An unnamed emotion flickered across her expression. She stared up at him, and he pumped harder, replacing the look of uncertainty with moans of pleasure. He drove into her, fast and furious, until she was breathless, pleading for release.

He felt the first waves of her orgasm, wrapping around his cock and tearing over his senses.

"Mark me," she cried out, pulling his head down, her eyes pleading, as her release ripped through her. "Make me yours."

Turner lost all control. He snarled, and his teeth sunk into her delicate flesh as an eruption of white-hot heat pierced through him. He moaned low and ragged, the pleasure too much, the taste of her intoxicating. He exploded within her, each pulse of his release matched by her own small spasms.

For what seemed like an eternity, he lost the ability to breath, to think. He was wrapped in the cocoon of her arms, and nothing else mattered. He licked over the mark on her neck. Whether she understood it or not, she was his.