CONCEPTION (The Others) (19 page)

The cold air on her wet flesh bit deeply. She ignored the
pain as long as she could, but eventually she was forced to tuck her fingers
under her arms to bring back the circulation. Precious seconds ticked by as she
warmed them, seconds she couldn’t spare but had to, or risk triggering Deuce’s
ability to feel her distress. She did not need him swooping in to cure what
he’d regard as a “need” in his mate. Not now.

As soon as the pain left her fingers, Eden hooked her arms
over the edge of the sill and pulled herself up, ignoring the flash of guilt at
deceiving him that stabbed her conscience. Deuce’s ability to ignore the truth
was only exceeded by his determination to cure her. But the reality was, she
was dying, and no amount of hope or determination was going to undo what had
been done. Her body was about finished. But no matter what, she wasn’t going to
die with her daughter at risk. Which meant she had to leave now. Before Deuce
shared “fluids” with her again. Before she weakened further. Not only in body
but in determination. The man was a master at illusion. His biggest illusion
being that they had a future.

Now.
The soft feminine whisper broke into her mind
out of nowhere, sliding under her defenses like an old friend, reaffirming her
belief in what she was doing.

Eden pulled herself up to the sill, gasping with the effort,
hooking her elbows on the outside. She forced more of her body through the
narrow opening, for once grateful she’d lost so much weight this year. It was
going to be a tight fit. She almost didn’t make it. Her hips hung up at their
widest point. The cold stung her cheeks and numbed her hands. She pulled
harder. The thin jersey of the shirt and shorts were no match for the cold
metal. Pain sliced up her side as she pushed herself forward. More than she
thought she’d be able to mask, but as her groan welled, a cloud appeared before
her, still containing that feminine touch.

She slipped into it, grateful for the protection. One more
heave, and then she was free. She landed face first in a drift. She lay in the
snow, enjoying the blessed peace that came between leaving the heat, and her
body recognizing the cold of the outside. It was going to be a hell of a walk
down the mountain, but she wouldn’t die. She knew that. Not of cold or
exposure, at least. If the cloud stayed, it would be a cakewalk. If it didn’t,
well, all she had to do was survive the pain until she got close enough to her
goal to end the game. If she was lucky, her grandfather’s men were as close as
Deuce feared.

She crawled to the hedge and crouched behind it to get her
bearings, standing on the hem of the shirt to protect her feet.

The night was cold, colder than it had felt when she’d left
the bathroom. Cold enough to have trees creaking as they swayed in the slight
breeze. The moon was nearly full, casting a clear, pale light over everything.
As far as she could see there was nothing but black sky carpeted with a
sprinkling of stars. It was a beautiful night, damn it all to hell. She really
needed to work on timing these escapes better. Either that or make sure she had
access to a weather channel. With such clear weather, and a moon hanging so
brightly in the sky, it was going to be a bitch and a half getting across the
yard without being seen.

A bitter wind blew. She shivered, but otherwise held herself
perfectly still. This wasn’t going to be as easy as getting out of her grandfather’s
compound. She’d known every aspect of that security system, known what to watch
out for. Her primary role as his hostess for his influential friends, before
everything changed, had demanded it. But here, everything was an unknown and
all it would take was one wrong move and her plan would be over. She couldn’t
let that happen. Jalina had to be protected at all costs.

Eden worked her way down the hedge line until she reached
the corner of the house, just behind the porch railing. She risked a quick peek
at the porch itself. Empty. Thank goodness. She’d definitely take that as a
positive sign. Dropping to her hands and knees, keeping her shoulder as close
as she could to the latticework bottom, she crept along the edge of the porch
until she reached the end. Tucking herself as small as possible under a cedar
hedge, she parted the branches and looked out. And promptly swore.

An entire compound fanned out in front of her, straddling a
main road which branched off into many smaller ones. Small wooden buildings
dotted the snowbanked roads at regular intervals, spilling warm pools of
welcoming light into the cold night from some of the windows. It was like a
scene from a Norman Rockwell painting. If she discounted the fact that the
occupants of those houses were more associated with horror than with cozy. In
front of many of the houses were powerful-looking SUVs. She was going to need
one of those.

The house to the far right of the first side road had a nice
SUV in front of it. There was no light streaming from the windows and the house
on the left only had a light on in the back left corner, which hopefully meant
no one was home. It was her best shot. The only question was, how was she going
to get to it? There was no cover between here and there. Just snowdrifts bathed
in moonlight. She could cut back behind the house and try to follow the tree
line down, but that would take time she didn’t have. She’d already used up ten
of her thirty minutes. No. She was going to have to follow the road and try to
use the high snowbanks
as cover. She untucked her feet and
scouted her course.

“You’re not going to make it.”

The comment came from above her. It was made in the calmest,
most conversational tone she’d ever heard and when she looked up, she knew why.
Dak stood on the porch leaning against the railing as if he didn’t have a care
in the world, his gun over his shoulder. The only hint that this was more than
a casual conversation to him was the intensity with which he watched her.

“I could if you pretended you never saw me.”

He nodded as if acknowledging her point as she stood. “But
that’s not going to happen.”

She kind of figured he’d feel that way. Desperation welled
out of resolve. She couldn’t fail. She had to at least try. She glanced at the
road, and all those SUVs—so close yet so far.

The porch creaked as Dak shifted his weight. “If you bolt,
I’ll run you to ground, and Deuce wouldn’t like that.”

“Believe it or not, I’m not overly concerned with what Deuce
likes.”

He nodded. “Seeing you out here in next to nothing has a way
of driving that point home, but that will change.”

She followed his gaze. Her shirt, wet from the melted snow,
was clinging to her breasts. She folded her arms across her chest. “No, it
won’t.”

He smiled, revealing strong white teeth and larger than
normal canines. “I believe you mean that.”

Keeping his amber eyes locked on her, he ducked his chin and
spoke into the small mike on his shoulder. “I’ve got her.”

There was a pause as he listened to whoever was on the other
end. “Will do.” He braced the rifle against the rail. “Deuce is on his way.”

He shrugged out of his coat and passed it to her. “If you’re
going to run, you might want to do it now.”

She took the heavy leather coat. “Would there be any point?”

“No.” He watched her as she shrugged it on. “But sometimes I
find humans have a need to indulge in pointless efforts.”

The coat was warm from his body. His scent clung to the
material. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it struck her as wrong. The desperation
inside her rose to tears. She clenched the excess leather sleeves in her hands
and tried the truth. “I need to leave.”

“Deuce will never allow it.”

“Why? Why does this matter to him so much? He’s got his
daughter.”

He nodded toward someone behind her, his “You’ll have to ask
him that” coincided with the “Voice’s” scream of
Run
!

She knew it was too late for that even as she turned. At
first she saw nothing, but then the night seemed to shimmer and Deuce was
there. Twenty feet away and closing fast, his dark gray shirt and black pants
blending into the shadows, striding across the snow without sinking into it,
grace and anger in every step. His long hair fanned around his shoulders,
whipping in a wind that surrounded only him.

“Oh
shit.” The cloud winked away, leaving her alone with her fear, and one unhappy
vamp.

Dak picked up his rifle. “That about sums it up.”

“How does he just appear out of midair like that?”

“Illusion.”

And then Deuce was there in front of her, no illusion, his
anger pounding her like blows. She took a step back. He caught her arm and
pulled her toward him. She closed her eyes and braced herself. The politeness
of his “Thank you” when she expected violence had her opening her eyes. He was
speaking to Dak, who nodded and said, “Any time.”

Eden tugged her arm. Deuce didn’t release her, and when he
turned to her, his anger pummeled her again. Though his face remained impassive
and his demeanor calm she had no doubt she was dealing with one ticked-off Chosen.

“Take off the coat.”

She looked down at his hand on her arm. “You’ll need to let
me go first.” She was rather pleased with how calm she sounded, when in reality
she was scared spitless.

His black eyes held hers a long moment. His grip lightened
on her arm. “If you run, I will catch you.”

She didn’t doubt that. In the flowing shirt and tight black
jeans, the man’s muscles were very evident. With or without super powers, she
had no doubt he’d catch her. She pulled her arm free. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She shrugged out of the coat. Deuce tucked her into the
shelter of his side before she could miss the warmth. The coat was yanked from
her hands with a rough jerk and tossed to Dak, who stood on the porch with a
strange smile on his face. And then they were moving. At least Deuce was
moving. She was more or less hoisted along in his wake. She tried to put her
foot down as they rounded the corner, but landed on a stick. The pain made her
gasp. Deuce swore and without breaking stride lifted her into his arms. She
grabbed for his neck as he took the first step, expecting to be jostled. She
should have known better. Men who glided didn’t jostle. Deuce flowed over the
steps the same way he glided over the ground. The front door opened. She had a
glimpse of Harley’s darkly handsome face and then they were moving through the
interior with blurring speed. There was only time to gather a brief impression
of high ceilings and dark wood before they were heading down the stairs. There
was less light there, the atmosphere darker. More in tune with Deuce’s mood.

Fear began to overwhelm Eden’s bravado. If her aborted
escape had taught her one thing, it was that no one here would interfere with
Deuce. At least when it came to her. The second door on the left opened. The deep
maroon and muted golds of Deuce’s apartment beckoned like a haven. She turned
her face into his chest and waited. Once that door closed behind them, anything
was possible.

The door clicked shut.

She could hear the shower running. Deuce didn’t stop. The sound
grew louder. Another door opened and she was surrounded by warm steam. She took
a steadying breath, and noted that the bathroom window was now closed.

“We’re in the bathroom.”

“The scene of your crime.” Deuce lowered her feet to the
floor. It was damp and warm from the prolonged running of the water.

“I can leave whenever I want.”

“No,” he anchored his hand in the hair at her nape, tipping
her head back, locking his gaze to hers the same way he locked her body to his,
“you cannot.”

The urge to accept his decree pounded at her. “Then I’m a
prisoner and have a perfect right to escape. Either way, it’s not a crime.”

“You played on my trust.”

“I did what I had to.”

“You will not try again.”

The statement echoed in her mind. He was influencing her.
She yanked her gaze free of his and put more energy into blocking her thoughts.
“I’ll do what I have to.”

“We will talk of this later. “

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You abandoned your mate and your child and went practically
naked and defenseless into the night.” His grip worked deeper into her hair.
“We have much to talk about.”

“The only person potentially harmed was me, and as an adult,
I have a right to do what I will with my body.”

“You are wrong.”

His free hand slashed down. Warm air struck her midriff. She
grabbed for the edges of her sliced shirt. “What are you doing?”

His hand, with that elongated nail, slashed down again. “You
have his scent all over you.”

Her shorts slid down her legs. She made a grab for them and
missed. “You have got to be kidding me.”

The hard edge to his “No” silenced her protest. She didn’t
know much about Deuce, but that hard edge packed into that one syllable was a
language anyone could understand. This was one pissed-off vamp. She tried
placating. “You want me to shower?”

“No.”

Between one blink and the next, his clothing was gone, and
she was left gaping at the sheer perfection of his chest. Padded with muscle,
topped by broad, equally muscular shoulders, the view was any woman’s dream.
Her pussy flooded with moisture. She had a thing for men with hair on their
chests, and Deuce had just enough to tempt a woman to explore to see how it
would feel against her palms, to wonder how it would feel against her sensitive
nipples as he came over her.

She visually traced the path of that hair down over the
hills and valleys of his washboard abs, rimmed the edge of his navel and
stopped dead at the solid jut of his cock. Despite the danger of the situation,
despite her determination to hold her own, a needy whimper slipped past her control.
He was hard. Heavy with the strength of his desire, his thick cock stretched
down his thigh. The broad head darker than the rest, shiny with the first drop
of pre-come. She knew exactly how he’d fill her mouth if she just bent down.
How he’d taste, how he’d feel. How he’d satisfy. Dear God, she wanted him.