The archangel shook his head and handed her the DVD. “Let me speak with the colonel before we consider that. In the interim, go inside with the others and help them pack. Make sure that we are prepared to go.”
She took the video. “The girls’ side is done and ready to load.”
“Excellent. Now concentrate on the provisions and equipment.”
With two guards still in Anytown and two always on point with Gadara, that left only the Marks to do the grunt work. “All right, I’ll play along,” she said, disgruntled. “For now.”
“And stay away from Abel,” he added. “He needs to cool down some, as do you.”
Eve shot him a wry glance. “So you finally admit I’m running a fever?”
His mouth thinned, briefly reminding her of her dad’s style of silent chastising.
She shrugged it off and headed toward the house.
Reed stood in the shade of an oak tree and watched as Eve ran her fingers over his car as if it were a lover. Her mind followed suit, returning to musings of him and her confusion over her attraction. She loved his brother but she wanted him, too. In ways she had never wanted anyone else.
His jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
I covet you.
The words should have been his, not hers. And if she settled into her fate as a Mark, he would have numerous years with her. A blessing, if he was able to head a new firm and snag her for his team. Or a curse, if she remained in love with Cain even after their mentoring relationship was over.
I want to f**k you, not carry your baggage.
The truth mixed with a lie. He wanted everything, which pissed him off to no end. If his brain hadn’t been scrambled by her Heat, he would have pulled her into an abandoned home and pinned her to a crumbling wall. He would have pounded himself into her until neither of them could breathe, think, or walk. He would have spilled every drop of his lust into her writhing body, thereby deepening the ethereal connection between them. He also would have irrefutably checkmated Cain by severing their connection before it had a chance to fully form. Eve might have hated him afterward and hated herself for giving in to the desire she didn’t understand, but he would’ve had her in every way that mattered.
But his brain had fried when she laid her feelings on the line. Without a driver behind the wheel, his gut had taken over and f**ked it all up.
I want to f**k you, not carry your baggage.
He was such a dick. He’d felt how deeply the words cut her and had relished her pain because it mirrored his.
He could have had her body, but taking her while under duress wasn’t enough. He wanted her sober, cognizant, and fully willing. No remorse, no regrets.
“Hello.”
Pulled from his thoughts by the greeting, Reed dragged his gaze away from Eve to find the pretty blonde with the dark fashion sense approaching. Her wrists and throat were hugged by spikes and leather, her palms were covered in fingerless gloves, and her legs were wrapped in black-and-white-striped knee-high socks.
He used to seek out women like her—light-haired women with harder-than-usual edges. He’d considered them his type.
His head tilted slightly in silent acknowledgment.
The blonde’s gaze followed his previous line of sight and came to rest on Eve, who stood talking with Raguel.
“If it’s any consolation,” she said, “she’s not accessible to your brother either. He has been ringing her cell phone all morning.”
“It’s not,” he said gruffly. Another lie. If there had to be a gulf between him and Eve, he wanted the same distance between her and Cain.
Then why did you let her go?
“Perhaps I can help you.”
He turned, leaning his shoulder into the tree. “In what way, Miss . . . ?”
“Call me Izzie.” Her stained lips curved in a come-hither smile. “In any way.”
Reed knew the invitation had as much to do with Eve as it did with him. Rivalry, perhaps. Or jealousy. Catty girl crap. He wanted to shut her down just for that, just to choose Eve’s side. He didn’t. Eve wasn’t celibate, why should he be?
His gaze dropped to the blonde’s lips. “You have a pretty mouth, Izzie.”
She nodded, comprehending what he wanted. She turned around and led the way. He followed. Once he dealt with his raging hard-on, he might manage to hold himself together until Eve was safe and he could once again put distance between them. They couldn’t keep butting heads. He’d gambled a great deal in order to help Cain resurrect her. He couldn’t afford to wreck all of his plans by alienating her beyond repair.
Sparing one last look over his shoulder at the driveway, Reed found that both Raguel and Eve were gone. The Marks would be clearing out soon. Eve would be squired away to safety. Class would end, the blonde would be assigned to a mentor, and he would never see her again. No harm, no foul, no complications.
That didn’t stop him from feeling like shit.
CHAPTER 11
"Don’t leave me like this! What if the maid comes in?”
Alec smiled down at Giselle, who wrestled futilely against the handcuffs that secured her to the pipe beneath the hotel room sink. “I’ll put the Do Not Disturb sign up.”
“Cain! I’ll scream, I swear. They’ll call the cops.”
He bent down and tugged the handkerchief off her head.
“No!” she protested. “I was just kidding. I didn’t—Mmphfff . . . !”
He secured the gag with a tug and stood, stepping clear of her kicking legs. “Don’t wear yourself out. When I get back I’ll need some blood from you, so you should save your strength.”
The metal links of the cuffs were muffled by the pipe insulation used to protect the legs of wheelchair-bound guests. Still, Alec shut the bathroom door and turned on the television as added camouflage. Then, he grabbed his black leather messenger bag and crossed into the adjoining room. He shut both connecting doors, then moved to the desk set against the opposite wall. He withdrew the various components of his satellite videophone, but paused to hit redial on his cell phone before assembling them.
The line rang three times. He was about to hang up when Eve’s voice, breathy and filled with relief, answered. “Alec!”
“Angel.” Concern straightened his spine and canceled his plans to chastise her for not answering his other calls. “Is everything all right?”
“No—”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, but—”
“Are you hurt?”
“No, but Molenaar—the Stoner—is dead.”
“What? How?”
He listened to her explanation with a growing sense of urgency. “I want you out of there,” he said when she finished. “Right now.”
“That’s Gadara’s plan. We’re packing up as we speak.”
He knew her well enough to pick up the stubbornness underlying her tone. “Don’t fight him on this, angel, although I can’t imagine why you would. Sounds like just the sort of thing you would want to avoid.”
“No shit. Where’s my scaredy-cat sense of self-preservation when I need it?” She sighed. “I’ve been told I’m going through the Novium. It’s making me bitchy.”
Alec stilled. It was impossible. It was years too soon.
“I would take that with a grain of salt,” he said gruffly. “Raguel doesn’t have enough experience with the Heat to make that diagnosis.”
“Well, your brother agrees with him.”
“Abel is there?” His concern for her safety turned into something baser, an emotion that was darker and more selfish.
“Yes. He has something going on with Gadara. I don’t know what it is.”
Alec was more concerned with his brother having something going on with Eve. She shouldn’t be so susceptible to the Heat so quickly. By design, the Novium helped train Marks to overcome their lingering fears so they could achieve successful independence. Eve hadn’t been marked long enough to be affected, plus they hadn’t attained the sort of bond he’d seen in other mentor/Mark pairings. If she went through the Novium now, not only would he lack a vital part of the experience he hoped would help him advance to firm leader, but he would also miss the opportunity to bind Eve more tightly to him.
With a growl, Alec moved to the bed and sat. It was time for another argument with God about the return of his mal’akh powers. Eve, bless her, was somewhat of a disaster magnet. “Are any of the other students showing signs?”
“I have no idea.” Her tone was weary. “They’re argumentative, and Romeo and the princess are still screwing like rabbits, but other than that . . . ? I don’t know what to look for.”
“They’re not important. Just take care of yourself.” If it was only Eve, he would have to seriously consider if her acclimation was being manipulated. And if so, who was responsible.
“Take care of myself how? I feel like shit, Alec. As if I have the flu. Isn’t the mark bad enough? Why does my process have to be so out of whack with the norm?”
“Angel . . .” Fuck, he should be with her now. She shouldn’t be alone. And she damn well shouldn’t be anywhere near Abel, whose connection with her would strengthen while his waned. “I’m guessing the Stoner’s death triggered your Heat early. Maybe you’re being affected so strongly because you’ve already been on a hunt.”
“That’s what I told Reed. This sucks. I’m not a dog; I shouldn’t feel like a bitch in heat.”
“It’s not like that.”
“You’re not the one going through it, Alec,” she argued. “Trade places with me, then tell me how it feels.”
Inhaling sharply, he forced himself to remain seated and not break speed limits back to Monterey. Not for the first time, he damned the fact that he was as untrained in his role as she was in hers.
“I hate being clueless,” he growled, shoving a rough hand through his hair. “This whole situation is f**ked all to hell. Everyone’s got their thumb in the pie and we’re stuck cleaning up the mess.”
“No one’s finger is in my pie,” she said dryly. “And sadly, I’m disappointed about that. The Novium is making me horny. How insane is that?”
Alec stilled, considering. He’d come across all types of mentor/Mark pairs over the years. Romantically linked teams were rare, but they did happen. One Mark had sworn that the best sex of her life had come during the Novium. She’d wondered whether it was melancholy over the end of her mentor relationship that had made the sex so hot or whether it was due to the Heat itself. Either way, the Mark had said her emotional attachment had strengthened during that time despite the imminent end to the training bond.
And Abel was there with Eve . . . Damn it.
“I wish you were here,” she said in a small voice. “I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel like a stranger in my own skin.”
There was something he could do for her from this distance, one way to ensure that she didn’t fall into Abel’s greedy hands like a ripe, juicy apple. “I don’t have to be with you to help you.”
“Talking helps. But honestly, that’s the last thing I want to do with you right now.”
“All action. My kind of girl.” Alec piled the pillows against the headboard and made himself comfortable. He pictured Eve in the grip of lust—her eyes glassy with need, her lips red and parted on gasping breaths as he pumped hard, fast, and deep into her.
With his voice low and thick, he asked, “Are you alone?”
Her hesitation told him that she registered the change in his mood. “No. I’m with the others, helping them pack up the equipment.”
“Can you find someplace where you will be within a safe distance but far enough away to prevent anyone from overhearing you?”
Eve’s breath caught, then was exhaled in rush. “I think so.”
“Then get there. Quick.”
Raguel unfolded from the back of his bulletproof Suburban and slipped on a pair of sunglasses. Before him stood the headquarters where the garrison commander, Colonel Rachel Wells, oversaw the nuts and bolts of what was left of Fort McCroskey and the adjunct installations.
He had called ahead and she was expecting him, but the tone of her voice had warned him of trouble ahead. Debunking the ghosts was important to her for a reason he had yet to discern. But her motivation was moot. He would persuade her to postpone the filming of the ghost-hunter show long enough for his team to purify the area. A few days, at most, were all he needed.
Montevista exited the front passenger seat. With practiced movements, the guard straightened the fit of his navy blazer, effectively concealing the bulge of his shoulder holster and gun. From behind dark sunglasses, the Mark scanned their surroundings with a sweeping glance. “I can’t stand feeling vulnerable.”
“You have the strength of an army in you.”
“Flattery won’t save you if we’re attacked by whatever butchered Molenaar today. You and the students should be on the move as we speak, sir.”
Raguel brushed a careless hand down his dress shirt. The time for leisure was over and his change of attire reflected that. “Charles Grimshaw will circle us for a while before he strikes again. He just wanted us to know he was here, hunting.”
Montevista looked at him. Although the Mark’s shades were dark enough to be impermeable to mortal eyes, Raguel’s enhanced vision saw through them as if they weren’t there. The Mark was clearly taken aback. “Grimshaw did this? How do you know?”
“Molenaar was hunted by an animal. He was targeted because he was the weakest and slowest member of our group. And the manner in which he was killed was a message, one guaranteed to reveal the sender.”
“What is the message?” Sydney asked. She was a petite blonde, less than five feet tall. Delicately feminine, she downplayed her fragility with a severe chignon, starkly cut pantsuit, and button-down dress shirt. Like Montevista, she wore dark shades and her right ear was wrapped with an earpiece that kept her connected to the rest of his security detail.