Come Fill Me (The Prophecy) (8 page)

Idiots. Fucking fools. Hadn’t they watched to see if anyone had been tailing them? “Are there any that can still be healed?”

Hector looked at Thomas.

“Maybe,” the man answered. “But Neekoma took Liz with him. By the time we found out he had her, they were gone.”

“We have her father,” Carreon reminded them both, then spoke to Willy. “You’ve kept Dr. Munez well?”

He nodded so eagerly the ends of his lanky hair bobbed. “Yes, of course.”

Carreon stepped closer. “You’re certain of that?”

Willy crossed his arms over his chest. It didn’t stop him from trembling. “I monitor him closely, just as you’ve asked me to. He’s in perfect health.”

“Except for being drugged.” Carreon turned to Thomas. “Is Dr. Munez alert enough to heal our men?”

He looked at Hector for help. His colleague said nothing. Thomas glared at Willy. “I don’t think so.”

“You drugged the good doctor into unconsciousness?” Carreon asked.

Willy stepped back. “He kept trying to escape. I didn’t want to handcuff him to the bed. I—”

Carreon interrupted, “You didn’t want to have to deal with him if he was alert.”

“That’s not true.” He bounced on his heels. “He refused to heal any of our men. There was no reason for him to be awake. I did what was necessary to keep him here. The drug should wear off in no more than an hour or two, I swear. You can tell him then that Neekoma has his daughter. That he has to heal our men so we can find her.”

“Do our injured have an hour or two?” Carreon asked Thomas.

“Two might. The others don’t.”

Willy cried, “You told me to keep him here. You insisted I do whatever it took to keep him from escaping. This isn’t my fault.”

Spittle clung to the sides of his mouth. He’d squeezed his skinny arms to the point that his veins bulged out, his fear making him look more like a child than a man. In a moment, he’d be sobbing like a woman.

Carreon lifted his hand. Willy flinched.

Slipping his handkerchief into his inside jacket pocket, Carreon murmured, “You’re right. The fault is mine. Forgive me.”

His chin quivered. Tears sparkled on the edges of his lashes. “I…of course.”

Carreon smiled.

Willy managed a meager one. His mouth jumped with tension, then froze in disbelief as Carreon removed his Glock and fired, hitting the younger man between his eyes. His body collapsed to the floor. The heels of his shoes tapped the hardwood, the sound lost beneath the gun’s report.

Hector and Thomas didn’t spare their fallen colleague a glance. Their attention remained on Carreon’s gun.

He spoke loudly, his ears still ringing, “Which one of you was responsible for the security and the cameras?”

“Him.” Thomas gestured to Hector.

He shouted, “That’s a fucking lie. We both worked on it.”

“But I can only punish one of you,” Carreon said. He swung his weapon from him to Thomas, who’d helped kill his father and made the way clear for his command.

Despite the man’s instinct to throw up his arm and turn away, the bullet was faster, tearing through his throat. Blood sprayed in a wide arc, then gurgled out. Carreon frowned at the renewed ringing in his ears. He watched Thomas fall, then writhe in agony as he neared death.

“Too bad Dr. Munez won’t be alert in time to heal you,” Carreon said. “Too bad your colleague didn’t take greater care with our security system.”

“Give me another chance, please,” Hector begged, his hands held out in surrender. “No security’s perfect. Any system can be breached.”

“As we learned tonight.” Carreon slipped his Glock back into his shoulder holster, then smoothed down his jacket. “Before I ordered you and the others to this room, I spoke to Victor. He has your wife and son. If you fail again, as you did this evening, they both die while you watch. Is that understood?”

An anguished moan escaped him.

Carreon gestured to the two bodies. “I want this and the mess in the rest of the stronghold cleaned up. Come daybreak, I want a group of men searching the desert for tracks, showing the route Neekoma’s men took. I want them searching for tunnels.” Stepping back, he pressed the button to open the door. “Before another night passes, I want Neekoma’s life and power in my hands.”

She didn’t fight him as Zeke had expected. She asked no more questions. He sensed she feared the answers he’d give or more likely didn’t believe a fucking thing he said.

He should have released her so she could return to the other side of the van. He should have treated her like the enemy she was.

His arm remained draped across her waist as though it had always belonged there, his fingers resting on the flare of her hip. Adversary or not, he found it impossible to ignore her, stirred by her alluring femininity. Her skin was softer than suede, warm with life, her scent intoxicating. The violet fragrance reminded Zeke of spring days as a boy, running through the desert’s wildflowers with his friends, laughing with the spontaneity of youth, unmindful of the trouble maturity would bring.

Not that being a man was without its rewards.

Liz reminded Zeke of how glad he was to be of age. Musk perfumed her skin, bringing him back to their moments in Carreon’s stronghold, him mounting her in full view of the others, sinking his cock deep within her slick cunt. He recalled how tight and hot she’d been, submissive to his passion while matching it with her own.

And now she was his prisoner, her fate in his hands, her body a temptation for him to seek at night. In the privacy of his room, she could minister to his male needs as a female was born to do.

He grew fevered at the thought, imagining himself naked, sprawled across his mattress, hands behind his head, proving who was boss with one command.

“Pleasure me.”

In his fantasy, color tinted her cheeks. However, he knew Liz wasn’t the type of woman to acquiesce easily. She’d make him wait for satisfaction. Proving it, she ran her fingers over his collarbone first, then each nipple, followed by a lazy perusal of his torso that had him wiggling in place, wanting more, demanding everything.

Her openmouthed kiss on his left pec was a damned good start. The way she stroked his underarms and the tangle of hair in his pits was also pleasant. She licked his areolas, then tongued the dark hairs circling his navel before moving on to his thickened cock.

“No.” He cupped the back of her head, stopping her from taking his crown in her mouth. “I want you on top of me. Now.”

In a show of disobedience, she lapped his wrist.

The wet heat of her tongue was enough to drag a moan from him, though it was hardly enough to gratify his carnal appetite. He frowned, and she finally behaved, straddling his body, easing her pussy down his stiffened rod, swallowing his length until their bodies touched and he found it impossible to think. The room spun.

He murmured, “Play with your nipples.”

“I’d rather you played with them.”

“No.” He swallowed at her cunt’s incredible heat, then panted, “You’re going to do all the work.”

If she disapproved, she offered no protest, rolling her left nipple between her fingers, making the tip harder, longer, while fondling her other breast. The lavish lines of her body absorbed Zeke as few things had. He studied the moist skin between her cleavage, her curly brown bush, full hips, shapely thighs.

“Your clit,” he said, “touch it.”

Liz combed her pubic hair with her fingers, then separated the folds of her sex and stroked herself as she rode him.

Watching her made him harder than Zeke would have believed possible. His cock strained against her inner walls, the pleasurable rasp driving him wild. Their bodies made brief smacking sounds as they touched. His balls were so tight the skin seemed ready to split.

She inhaled sharply, releasing the air on an uneven sigh. Lowering her face, she wore a look of mounting tension that told him she was a breath away from orgasm.

Not allowing her to reach it, Zeke grabbed her wrists, ignoring her frustrated growl, rolling them over so he’d be on top. There, he took her, pounding his cock into her cunt until the only sounds she made were pleas for him not to stop.

Yeah, right. Don’t bet on it.

Zeke rolled his eyes at such an idiotic fantasy but made no move to quell his need. He rubbed his cheek and the tip of his nose against her glorious hair, delighting in its silky texture and the fact that she didn’t try to deny what he wanted. Nor did she shrink away from his obvious erection. On some level, she enjoyed his arousal and touch, the man he was. The question was how long it would last.

She’d wanted to know where he was taking her.

The answer was easy and complicated as hell. He was bringing her to a reality no vision had warned him of prior to tonight’s events. If it had…

He gritted his teeth to keep sorrow and anger from edging closer or overwhelming him. His visions had shown Zeke his injuries and near death, but not that of his—

No. He couldn’t go there or let his emotions surface. They clouded his visions much as they did a man’s judgment. He had to maintain control. With Liz in his possession, he’d be able to complete his plan.

And then what?

Let her return so she could continue to heal Carreon’s men, or keep her so that she could save his people whenever that monster attacked them? So that she’d be there for him to enjoy.

Without thinking, Zeke cupped her breast, dragging his thumb over her nipple.

She stiffened.

Her response snapped him back to reality faster than a slap or a lethal threat. Zeke warned himself to cool it and consider how she must feel, given how her night had turned out. He recalled what she’d said about her father, the distressing heartache he’d heard in her voice and seen on her face as she’d spoken of him.

He’d told her the man was safe, but only because he hadn’t seen his murder in his mind as he’d seen hers. However, that didn’t mean her father was out of harm’s way. No matter what Carreon thought or Liz suspected, Zeke knew his gift wasn’t perfect. Far from it. He saw things that involved himself, strangers or people he hated. When it came to the ones he loved, his visions were silent, refusing to help him stop the coming tragedy and pain.

His shoulders bunched at the fucking stupidity of such a useless gift. It was a bitch for him to breathe. Rarely had Zeke felt as useless, unable to save those he should. He hated keeping Liz from her father, but he had to have her help. He couldn’t deny his brother that.

With great care, he eased her closer, moderating his strength, holding her in a gentle embrace meant to comfort.

After a moment’s hesitation, she relaxed a bit.

He waited, keeping his actions as nonthreatening as he could.

In time, she released her weight into him as though she was beginning to trust…or was too exhausted to fight. He wondered how they might have reacted to each other in a normal world where they’d been out for a night of fun, eating at a restaurant, enjoying a movie. Expecting to end the evening fucking like crazy rather than sitting naked in the back of a van, barreling toward his stronghold where his people waited to hear the news of his rescue or death.

Always fearful of Carreon’s presence, his men didn’t dare use cell phones that might reveal the users’ locations or directions, exposing them to attack.

Zeke mouthed an oath, then sighed.

With the sound, Liz leaned to the side and looked over, her mouth no more than a few inches from his.

It was an effort for him not to sigh again, this time at her sweetly scented breath. Not from toothpaste or mints but from the vibrant life that flowed through her. The sensations it produced did wicked things to him, stiffening his cock even more, tensing his muscles, driving away all hesitation, which left only animal need.

Liz didn’t seem alarmed at his obvious lust. She said nothing nor did she move, waiting as though to see what he intended to do with her.

His thoughts were back in his X-rated fantasy. Thankfully, he was able to make his body behave. He continued to hold her without menace, wanting Liz to know he wasn’t scum like Carreon. Never in his life had Zeke harmed a woman or taken one against her will.

Liz continued to study him, not seeming to notice or care how bumpy the ride had become.

Zeke increased his hold to keep her steady, then chanced running his thumb over her hip, testing her reaction.

“Do you have my father?” she asked.

A rush of heat prickled his skin. His mind raced for an answer. He could lie and make things easy on himself, or he could tell her the truth she deserved to know. Not much of a choice, really. He knew firsthand the sorrow of losing family, having learned that hard lesson when he was only thirteen and his father had died in battle with Carreon’s clan. At fifteen, he’d lost his mother to the same fate. As a man, he understood how the bond of blood and shared experience anchored one to this world and made them kind, willing to risk all for someone they loved.

“No,” he said. “He’s not with my people.”