When Temptation Burns: A Shadow Keepers Novel (Shadow Keepers 6) (22 page)

Voight lifted his brows. “Do you? Did you hear that, friends? He wants the change.” He looked at Millicent. “Would you like to do the honors, my dear?”

She lifted her middle finger in a fuck-you gesture. “Screw you, Voight. I’m only here to detox. Those PEC assholes dragged me downtown and kept me in an interview room for five hours asking me questions about that fucking werewolf. I’ve already got a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t want to add to it with the taste of him.” She sneered at Kyle, and he lunged for her, ready to rip her throat out.

“And now you want to hurt poor Millicent,” Voight said. “So many wants. So many desires. I understand
completely,” he added. “I want a lot of things, too. Things I haven’t gotten even in all my long centuries on this earth.” He shrugged. “These things happen, pup.”

A low rage bubbled up in Kyle, and he looked around at the pale, harsh faces of the vampires. The same vamps who’d given him blood. Who’d made him stronger so that he could do his work. So that he could take his pleasure with all those girls, and be stronger and faster than the cops.

They’d fucking
helped
him. And now they were going to ignore him? They were going to just toss him back into the cesspool that was humanity? They were going to force him to continue to be mortal after Rhys had promised—
promised
—that he would walk the earth until the end of time.

“I deserve the change.” He took a step toward Voight, refusing to show his fear. Refusing to think about the poison running through his veins. “I was promised the change.”

“The vampire who promised you is dead. And to be honest, puppy dog, I’ve never much liked you.”

Andy pushed away from Doyle, her hands smoothing her clothes, and Doyle wanted to kick himself for being a complete asshole.

“Andy.” He reached for her hand to stop her from walking away. “Please, I’m sorry. That was harsh. I didn’t mean it to be harsh.”

Goddamn the hunger. It was growing in him. Not demanding yet—not enough to put her in danger—but enough to remind him of what he was.

And why he took human women to bed.

He didn’t want to use Andy that way. Didn’t want to use her to prove to himself that he could keep up the façade of his humanity. Especially when he knew she not only despised what he was inside, but was terrified of it.

And that really was the crux, wasn’t it? Even as pure and perfect as the past few hours with Andy had been, the ending was the same as always—Doyle had to feed the daemon. He was one of the monsters she was so eager to fight. And no matter what else happened between them, that fundamental truth could never be changed. He’d learned that the hard way from his mother, who’d never managed to beat the evil out of him despite her best efforts.

He clenched his fists at his sides, wanting to lash out. Wanting to rage against the unfairness of it all. But most of all, wanting to pull Andy back into his arms.

Goddamn him for wanting it so bad. Goddamn him for letting her get under his skin.

“I should go,” he said.

“Yes, you probably should.” She was facing away from him, and her words, so flat and lost, cut into him, stealing his reason.

He should walk out the door. He should walk right through it and get into his car.

Instead, he moved in front of her. He hooked his finger under her chin and lifted it until she had no choice but to either look at him or close her eyes.

She looked, and he saw strength behind her embarrassment. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I thought—”

“I want you,” he said firmly, though he knew that he shouldn’t speak. “I want to rip every stitch of your clothes off and lose myself inside of you. I want to kiss
you until your mouth’s raw. I want to forget everything except you, Andy.” And dammit, even that didn’t quite cover it. He didn’t fully understand what it was about her, but there was no denying that she’d snapped something inside of him. Maybe it was her eyes that had first caught his attention, but now it was so much more.

“Then why?”

Because he couldn’t hide what he was forever. Because he didn’t want her to be one in a long line of women whom he’d left in the morning.

Her embarrassment had been replaced by concern. “I don’t understand,” she said.

He took her hand and led her back to the couch. “I want you,” he repeated, “but not like this. You stopped me earlier. I don’t want to cross a line that you’ve drawn.” It was a bald-faced lie—he didn’t give a damn about crossing her line—but there was no other explanation he could give.

She looked at him as if he were the only true gentleman in the world, and he felt like the lowest of heels.

“What would you say if I told you that I’d like to move that line?”

He closed his eyes and swallowed. He needed to go. Needed to push this thing between them away, because it couldn’t go anywhere and he couldn’t risk her finding out the truth about what he was.

But at the same time, she didn’t know Doyle the PEC agent, the one who had something to prove every time he slept with a human woman.

No, she only knew Doyle the Homeland Security agent. Doyle the Dark Warrior.

But you won’t be undercover forever
.

He wouldn’t. But right now he wanted her too badly
to think about the future. How could he, when Andy blocked everything else from his sight?

“Doyle? What would you say?”

He was surprised to find his voice still worked, so thick was his need. “I’d have to say that I’m a uniquely lucky man.”

“Don’t pull away again,” she said, hooking her arms around his neck.

“No,” he promised. He hoped it was a promise he could keep.

“Doyle?”

“Yes?”

“Make love to me.”

Her words—their boldness—shot through him, making him hard and needy. With a low groan, he reached down and scooped her up, curling her slender body against him. The barely there cocktail dress rode up, and he felt the soft skin of her hip against his palm as he carried her into the bedroom.

It was small—the house had been designed so that the living and dining areas were as large as possible—but she’d made it cozy. The bed filled the room, and every surface was covered with either a green potted plant or a vase with cut flowers. A fish tank with a small light provided the only illumination, and the bubbling lull of the filter added a sensual soundtrack.

He set her down on the bedspread, and he toppled onto her when she tugged at his collar. “I’m not risking you getting away,” she said. She took his hand and pressed it against her thigh. “I stopped you once tonight. I won’t do it again.”

He trailed his fingers up, stroking her soft skin, and he was lost, absolutely lost. He shifted his position, leaving
one hand resting softly on her thigh, while he slid his other up her belly until his thumb brushed the swell of her breast.

She moaned, arching up as if in silent demand. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, and he almost laughed—he had no intention of stopping.

Slowly, he let his fingers stroke higher between her legs until the pad of his thumb met the soft material of her panties.

She moaned softly, her hands ripping at his shirt, as if she was desperate to feel his skin against hers.

He knew exactly how she felt.

Gently, he slid his finger under her panties, feeling her damp curls brush his skin. “Spread your legs,” he said, and when she complied, he slipped his fingers inside of her, using the pad of his thumb to stroke and tease her until she cried out with a desperate passion, trembling against his hand.

“Doyle—oh, God, Doyle.”

He bent over her, his hand cupping her sex, and pressed his lips to her mouth, then leaned down to cup her breast through the thin material of her dress. Then lower still until his lips were tracing patterns on her soft belly, exposed now because of the sheath dress bunched up around her waist.

He wanted to taste her, wanted her nails digging into him as she came.

Mostly, he wanted to be inside of her.

“I can’t wait,” he said.

“Then don’t.”

He yanked her panties down, somehow managing to get his own clothes off. He stroked his hands up the inside of her thighs, and she spread her legs as if inviting
him home. She was slick and wet, and he thrust inside, almost losing himself in the pleasure of filling her.

He stayed still, afraid that if he moved he’d come right then. But she wasn’t having any of that. Her hips rose, and she pistoned against him, forcing him into a corresponding motion. “Please,” she whispered. “Oh, yes, please.”

They moved together, finding a natural rhythm, hard and fast, as her body closed over him, drawing him in, claiming him.

And then she shattered beneath him, tightening around him and sending him over the edge with her. He lost himself to pleasure, swallowed up in the stars and in the sweet, soft sounds of the woman in his arms.

“Wow,” she said, when they’d both stopped shaking. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “Wow,” she repeated, her voice soft and dreamy.

She rolled over, shifting her position to get even closer, and he pressed his lips to her brow. “Doyle,” she murmured, her voice little more than a breath as she curled herself next to him and drifted off toward sleep. “I’m so very glad you stayed.”

He lay still, relishing the rise and fall of her body. This was not something in his repertoire. Usually he’d be sitting up, pulling on his slacks, and heading out the door right about now.

It felt good to stay. Gently, he pressed a kiss to her hair. “So am I,” he whispered. And for the first time in more than two centuries, he closed his eyes with a human woman next to him, and settled in for the night.

It was, Paul thought, good to be home.

He’d been discharged from the hospital after morning rounds, and he’d rolled through the gate of his Beverly Hills compound only minutes after eight in the morning.

Now he was in his study, and Bryce was sitting across the desk from him. Bryce’s second in command, a young soldier named Aaron, stood behind him at attention.

“Our asset?”

“It wasn’t a problem,” Bryce said. “We intercepted the prison bus, and the extraction went off without a hitch.”

“Good. They’ve been training hard, working as a unit. They’ll need that discipline when we make our move against the enemy.” He looked at Bryce. “Do we have the location?”

“Not yet.”

Paul reached for a paperweight on his desk and curled his fingers around it, squeezing hard to quell the flare of irritation. “Did I not make myself clear that time is of the essence? They know that we exist and that we’re planning something. If we don’t move fast, we’ll be defending rather than attacking, and that is an unacceptable turn of events.”

“I know that,” Bryce said. “Creevey didn’t have the location. But I explained to him that it would be in his best interest to find it out and give it to us.”

“How much time?”

“The poison will stop his heart in forty-eight hours. Of course, we told him thirty-six. I expect we’ll see him soon. And once we have the location, we’re ready to move immediately. The men are fast and sharp and tight. Isn’t that right, Aaron?”

“Yes, sir. And if I may say so, sir, we’re looking forward to kicking some vampire and werewolf butt.”

“I don’t blame you,” Paul said, laughing. “I’d like to be in the thick of it with you.”

“You’re much too valuable to be in active combat,” Bryce said. “And you damn well know it.”

Paul grinned. Bryce was right, of course.

“I’d like to add Doyle to the team.”

Bryce did not look pleased. “We’ve trained down to the wire, Paul. Adding another player at this stage would be foolhardy.”

“He’s exceptionally talented. And unlike most of your team, he’s got field experience killing these creatures. Not just controlled training.”

“If everything goes well, we won’t be engaging in hand-to-hand.”

“And if it doesn’t go well?”

Bryce frowned. “It means that much to you?”

“You should have seen him in action. Bryce, he saved my life.”

“You’re the boss,” Bryce said. “But I don’t like it.”

“The more experience we have on this, the better. Especially since we’re going to be moving in hard and fast.”