Dangerous (24 page)

But since then he had learned she was a Morphate, and that her enemies were most likely other Morphates. Very seriously pissed off Morphates by the look of it. So did Devon need his team merely as disposable muscle to wield her weapons? He imagined getting her kind to carry mercury would be a little bit tricky. Then again, she had made it safe enough for anyone to use.

Liam tried to quiet his mind a little as he saw her struggling for breath, blood and flesh congealing on her skin. He felt his own issues and questions fading quickly as he reached out to touch her temple, his fingers brushing her gently, calmingly.

“Let's get you cleaned up.”

Had it been anyone else, any human, his priorities would have been very different. He would have been rushing to apply first aid and get her to the nearest E. R. However, he knew he couldn't do that. Not just because she would heal on her own. But because it was illegal for Morphates to imitate humans, he would blow her cover and potentially send her to jail.

He drew her out of her bathroom and into his own suite. He led her back into his bathroom, keeping one hand on her at all times as he used the other to rummage in one of his smaller supply bags resting on the vanity. He pulled a syringe out of the first-aid kit he found, used his thumb to pop the top off it and exposed the pressure needles. He moved aside the ruined fabric of her dress, the tissue-thin fabric now plastered to her body in a macabre papier-mâché of silk and blood. The pressure needle engaged the moment he applied strength to it, injecting her with painkiller. Nothing much, just enough to get her through the worst of the healing process, he guessed.

“I'll metabolize it very quickly,” she murmured, blowing that idea out of the water.

“It'll help in the meanwhile,” he said with a shrug. It would have to. He couldn't stand the idea of her being in such pain for much longer.

“There are longer-acting ones. Made for Morphates.”

“I didn't know that,” he said, frowning as he gave her a once-over. “Do you have any here?”

She laughed a raspy sound without any humor. “I have a factory full of them in Kuala Lumpur. I invented them with the help of a brilliant scientist named Genesis Gregory about forty-two years ago. Genesis is Kincaid Gregory's wife. We've been manufacturing the drugs ‘illegally' for several decades. Waiting for the Federated Drug Association to approve something that could cause a human being to overdose is . . . well . . . something of an uphill battle.”

“So . . . weapons . . . and now drugs. That's starting to make you something of a cliché, Devon,” he said, his tone in no way judgmental. He was aware of how Morphates had had to work outside the law to make even the smallest strides forward.

“Seems if there's a Morphate centered law to be broken, I've broken it,” she acknowledged grimly. “That is why I distanced myself from Nick and Amara. They are working so hard through legal and proper channels to see to it that Morphates can one day find equal standing in our society. Everything they do must appear completely aboveboard or everything they have struggled for will collapse. I won't have that. Someone has to get dirty, and it can't be them.” She raised her eyes to his, her lashes stuck together in pointy clumps. The red on her face made the green of her eyes jump out in startling contrast, the sadness in them causing an instant knot in his throat. “I'm Amara's Beta. It's my job to protect her at all costs. It always will be. Even if that means leaving her and the only people who could possibly accept me for what I really am.”

“I accept you for what you really are,” he told her softly, his fingers curling under her chin to make sure she didn't look away from him. To make sure she saw the steadiness of his eyes. To make sure she understood that it wasn't just words, and that he was including every bestial layer within her. “I accept the Devon that bites and claws at me when she comes. The Devon that is so brilliant I doubt I'll ever be honored to know her equal in my lifetime. I accept,” he said, firmly gripping her chin when she went to shift her gaze aside, “the Beta. The vicious assassin who is second to the most powerful female Morphate in the world. Who just handed that joke of an assassin her ass. I accept it all, Devon.”

He didn't so much as twitch as she searched him for a glimmer of uncertainty. A dash of overconfidence. But he was not speaking randomly or handing her platitudes. He was reminding her that if any human out there was capable of fully comprehending her, it was he.

“Devona,” she rasped softly after a long series of heartbeats.

“Excuse me?”

“Devona. I was born with the name Devona Chandler. It's funny how dropping a single letter here and there can help you disappear into our society and become an entirely different person. I am Devona Chandler. I am Amara Gregory's Beta. I am one of the wealthiest women in the world. I am Morphate and I am deadly. But you know all of this. You accept all of this. And I don't doubt you. What I find so hard to believe is why you haven't even so much as hesitated. You watched me pull that girl apart and your only action was . . . was to hand me a gun. In what world does that make sense? To discover you are sleeping with a killer. What makes you so okay with that?”

“Because
you
are sleeping with a killer,” he reminded her gently. “Isn't that really why I'm here? I'm a killer of Morphates. But also I'm a killer of men. Isn't that what a soldier boils down to? Someone who has it in them to be okay with taking the lives of others. A career soldier even more so. I am in no position to judge you for who and what you are any more than you are to judge me. I see a kindred spirit in you. Although to be honest I find you a bit out of my league.”

“A better beast than you? A more savage animal?” she queried bitterly, punctuating it with a terse laugh.

“No, babe. A better person than me. More refined. More intelligent. Tomorrow you could decide to change everything about you and you'd have the wherewithal to do it. Me, I'll always be a soldier. In one form or another.”

“I can't change everything,” she pointed out in a whisper. “No matter what, I'll always be a Morphate. I'll always be an animal.”

“Don't let the blood fool you,” he said softly as he began to peel away what remained of her dress. “We are all of us animals, sweetheart. It's just whether we let that part of our nature show or not. All I see here is a woman who just fought for her life. More importantly, one who won.”

He hit the taps and the tub quickly began to fill while he finished pulling blood-soaked silk free of her skin. He steered her into the shower first, tuning those taps as well before moving her under the water. When she grabbed hold of his shirt and wouldn't let him move away from her, he kicked off his boots and shed the rest of his clothes just as quickly. His hands ran over her, the tile rushing red around their feet as he rinsed off the worst evidence of her nature. By the time he'd rinsed her hair satisfactorily, she was breathing easier and began to exhale soft sighs of release. She was letting go of the savage instincts she'd had to call on and returning to the Devon he knew.

Devona, he corrected himself. But now was not the time to split hairs about why it had taken so long for her to be completely honest with him. Frankly, he understood. He had lied and omitted his fair share of information to other lovers in his life. It was the nature of his job. It just felt a little strange being on the other side of the equation for a change.

She turned around in his hands, facing him and turning her eyes up to his.

“In a little while I am going to be healed as if this never happened and I am going to want to make love with you just as fiercely as I just fought for my life. How do you feel about that?”

“I think we're going to take a bath first, let you crash and calm. Let's wait and see just what you're in the mood for later.”

She smiled then, the expression in her saying he was so silly to doubt her. Liam's heartbeat jolted into a little quicker pace. Her confidence as a sexual being would never cease to floor him. As unsure as she might be about the rest of her life, here she had found perfect footing with him.

And frankly, nothing had ever rung truer for him, either.

Devon relaxed her head back against Liam's shoulder as his fingers smoothed shampoo lather through her hair. She was already half asleep as she lay beneath the hot, tumbling water with her back to his chest, her bottom settled snugly between his thighs. Despite the openness of their nudity and the sensuality latent in their contact, he'd made no sexual overtures to her, content to let her set the mood and pace. She might have let this passivity worry her, except there was nothing passive about his biological reaction to the feel of her slick, nude body nestled up against him.

Liam enjoyed the way she relaxed under his hands, the way her breathing evened out, and the way she absently curled her hands around his knees to hold on to him. He was aware of the exact moment she fell asleep, but he finished washing the soap from her hair just the same. He slid soapy hands down her shoulders and arms, stroking her gently and slowly. He continued to bathe her, his hands sliding over her throat, her chest, and underarms. He moved on to her breasts, his fingers slipping over her nipples, the aureoles puckering tightly as he swept past. She stirred when he traveled over her belly. Devon turned her head so her face was pressed to his neck, her lips rubbing over him as she smiled sleepily.

“You're better than a maid,” she murmured.

“Yeah. I can think of one way I'm much better,” he teased her.

“So can I,” she sighed, her hand slipping behind her to seek the erect flesh nestled in the curve of her back.

“There we go, thinking alike again,” he said, his breath catching mid-sentence when her slick fingers encircled him. “You know, you can just relax and sleep if you want. I won't hold you to earlier promises,” he told her tensely. “I know you had a headache before all this started. It can't have improved much.”

“I never said I had a headache.”

“You didn't have to say it. I could tell,” he whispered.

“Mmm, and that's how you're so successful at your occupation, where observation is everything.” Devon made the remark absently. She was far more interested in discovering the extent of his arousal and just how hard he really was. Her inquiring fingers alone improved matters, and she could feel him swelling and pulsating with a rush of excitement when she closed her fist around him and stroked him.

“Ahh, baby,” he groaned, his legs shifting restlessly around her. His hands anchored to the tub sides. “Your hands . . .” he breathed with rough pleasure as she rubbed fingers over and around him. “Do you have any idea how good that feels?”

“Mmm, I have some idea,” she told him, a smile drifting over her lips. She turned around, sliding like a slippery eel until she straddled his hips and had her hand back around him. Her breasts moved against his chest provocatively as she stroked him in several long, stunningly arousing pulls. “I could make you come, yes?”

“Easily,” he growled as his hips began to press up with her caresses.

Devon leaned forward to kiss the corner of his mouth, a butterfly flick of her tongue touching him there. She reached her second hand between his legs and cupping his stones she gently tugged on him and fondled him expertly.

“God, it's as though we didn't make love at all,” he said with amazement, “the way I react to you. It feels like the first time. That keen, beautiful feeling of first getting to be with a lover. There's nothing about you that doesn't fascinate me. Thrill me.”

“I know,” she sighed, excitement rising as she watched his face and reactions to her touch. “Even when we're fighting,” she whispered against his ear seductively, “I keep thinking how sexy you look in that outfit you wear when you work. About how sexy you'd look out of it.”

“Hmm . . . if I'd known that, there wouldn't have even been an argument.” She laughed, highly doubtful of that. “Or I would have ended it sooner. Watching you at dinner with another man, watching him simply touch your hand . . . it made me a little crazy, you know. Didn't help that I kept getting an occasional flash of garters through the material of your skirt.”

“Liked those, did you?” she chuckled with sinful sensuality as she stroked him in quicker motions.

“Devon . . .” he moaned, his hands reaching to seize her shoulders. “Let me take care of you before you bring me too close,” he said, his voice like sandpaper.

“What's too close?” she asked curiously as her nails ran over him, forcing nerves into harsher attention.

“A couple more seconds of that,” he said on harshly falling breath.

She laughed, the sound miles away from the pain she'd been forced to feel at the hands of another just a short while ago. She leaned forward to kiss his shoulder in her delight. “Just making sure I have your attention,” she murmured against his damp skin.

“That has to be a joke,” he laughed abruptly.

“Mmm, nope. Here, is this better?”

She removed her second hand, grasped the edge of the tub over his shoulder and before he could blink, she had guided him into her snug, hot little body.

Definitely better. But damn, he couldn't get a single word past his throat to tell her so. Luckily, his body spoke for him. His hands clamped onto her hips and he surged up into her.

“One of these days, we're going to have to try and do this slowly,” she mused impishly as she felt the desperation in his grip.

“Son of a bitch,” he managed at last. “How do you always do this to me?” he demanded. A better question might be ‘why.' She always seemed so unconcerned with her own pleasure. With her eager, slippery body all over him, however, it was easy for him to be selfish as she commanded his focus. Liam realized that was partially because she seemed to take a great deal of delight in manipulating him until he was out of control. It turned her on, her body growing hotter with each passing moment, her hard nipples sweeping across his chest, her head falling back as she moved with the rhythm of his hands and hips.

“Mmm, Liam you feel so good,” she purred. “You always feel so good.”

Feeling good certainly wasn't a problem. An excess of feeling good was becoming an issue, however. She had reached out to grip the tub on both sides, giving herself a wicked leverage with which to move. The water washed away the natural lubricants of her body, and friction grew by leaps and bounds.

“Devon, look at me,” he demanded in short, bursting breaths. She lifted her head and opened slumberous, passion-hazed eyes, assuring him that she was just as caught up as he was. “Good girl. Now let's try something before you have your way with me.”

She laughed at that, the throaty sound vibrating completely through him. Still, he made good on his proposition by insinuating a hand between their bodies. Taking his thumb and forefinger, he caught up that sensitive bud of her flesh between them and rolled it into a tugging pinch in time to her next slide down his shaft. She jerked hard enough to send water sloshing and her inner walls clamped down on him in her surprise. Liam groaned, feeling his coming climax threatening to boil over. Regardless, he dragged on her clit again until she gasped, then soothed her in quick and slow circles. He kissed her open mouth until they were both moaning and sighing against each other's tongues.

“Oh, yes,” Devon gasped, her hips jerking in a quicker rhythm over him. Now all Liam could do was hang on for the ride and pray he held on long enough for her. He gripped her so hard he probably left bruises, but he couldn't help himself as he was lost in her luscious tongue and divine body. Her cries increased, rasping into his mouth as everything about her began to tighten up. It was too much, more than he could handle, and he burst over the edge in wild, gutting release. He heard his grunted shouts echoing off the tiles, felt her riding him for all she was worth, her back snapping into a sudden arch as she followed him in detonation.

When Liam became aware of himself again it was to find his forehead buried against her breastbone and her arms wrapped around his head and shoulders. Then the strangest thought crossed his mind and he laughed aloud before he could check the impulse. She pulled away to look into his eyes with a satiated smile in her eyes.

“What?”

“It's not important,” he said dismissively.

“It is to me,” she countered.

Liam smiled at that and reached up to cup her face in both hands. “It's just that, when my parents were alive, they'd have these terrible rows. Or so it seemed. Loud and Irish, more bluster than anything. I once got very upset and I remember my mother comforting me. She said to me, “'Tis not the fighting that matters, darlin', but what comes after!'” He chuckled along with Devon. “I never understood what that truly meant until just now.”

“It was a good lesson,” she sighed in agreement, hugging him close again with a little shiver.

“Yup. And now it's time to get out of here. You're cold.”

“I don't get cold,” she denied, shivering again as she lay heavily in his arms.

“Yeah, right,” he snickered. Liam anchored her slippery body as best he could and hauled them both out of the water. He impressed himself with the feat, considering he could barely feel his legs after such a devastating orgasm. She aided his efforts by wrapping wet legs around his hips and her arms around his neck. He managed to step onto the bathmat without slipping and breaking both their necks. He grabbed towels and halfheartedly covered her and himself with them as he walked her into the bedroom.

“I think I might keep you a while,” she sighed. “You're very handy to have around.”

“Thank you,” he chuckled, smacking her bottom lightly, the wet sound echoing loudly. But she hardly budged.

Liam dumped her onto his bed and she went willingly. He wrapped her wet hair and then took his time drying her warmly glowing body. Devon's sighs and blissful movements began to arouse him all over again as he ran the soft towels over every inch of her skin. Her flawless, unbruised skin. No one who walked in and saw her would know she'd been beaten viciously just under an hour earlier. Liam was going to give himself a passing once over with the towel, but she suddenly came awake and took a fresh towel from him in order to tend to him herself.

He remained standing and she easily came to him to brush over every hard muscle and delightfully furred inch of skin. She stroked him everywhere, slowing her pace so she could enjoy every inch and every discovery. She was aware that he was becoming more and more excited with every passing second. Men made it easy for women to know these things, she thought with a smile as she dried his thrusting penis too. She kneeled before him to run the towel down his legs and she heard him try to cut back a groan as his fingers pushed away the towel around her hair so he could tangle them into the wet strands.

There was something about having a beautiful, highly sexed woman kneeling before him that just sent a man's brain into sexual overload. Especially when he knew the highly sexed wench was well aware of her effect on him. Had she been ignorant, she wouldn't have nuzzled her face against his rigid member and subsequently licked him. Not once, but several times.

“Forget it!” he growled suddenly as he jerked her to her feet and threw her back onto the bed. “Before you start in on me again, woman, you are going to have at least three orgasms. Got it?”

She got it. At least
four
times before he let her come anywhere near him to return the favor.

 

It wasn't long after that she crashed utterly and completely. The spikes and falls of adrenaline finally caught up with her, allowing him to extricate himself from her without hands of protest trying to pull him back. The moment he had clothes on his back he was in contact with his people. In the morning the guard on Devon's home would be doubled, though perhaps not so obviously to her. In the wings, he was mobilizing a few other things.

Devon's war with the Morphates had just grown to a new level. They'd become so bold as to stroll into her property. How they had gotten past his people was an issue to be dealt with and examined later. Otherwise, there was nothing more he could do until daylight, when he could interview her a bit more thoroughly about her attack. The devil would be in the details, he knew. And the best way for him to craft a force at her right hand would be to understand the tactics and nature of the beasts they were dealing with.

 

For a couple of days further into the week they fell into a strangely quiet sort of routine as Liam trained his team to use Devon's new weapons. Every night Devon would fall asleep exhausted in the arms of her human lover, always more and more aware that Liam satisfied her in ways she had never experienced before. In the mornings she would be awakened by a soft kiss and whisper before he got out of bed to begin his workday. Then he would roll her over and tuck her in warmly so she could fall back to sleep. The routine developed a familiarity that brought her the first comfort and security she had felt since it became clear to her that Ambrose Clan was gunning for her.

She would spend the day at work, just as she always had; only now she looked forward to closing the day's business. She knew that soon Liam would supervise the shift changes and then come spend the evening with her before securing the house for the night. At sunset every day she would open the drapes to her office and watch the dogs, or the ‘pups,' as Liam called them, exercising on the south lawn with their trainers. Liam would always be there, within sight, and he would always look up and see her there watching for him.

While Devon was feeling comforted by this routine, Liam was unsettled. He was disturbed by how easily he was falling into a pattern that bordered on domestication, he who had thrived on the challenges every day brought him. He ought to be more resistant to it, but he was happily panting after Devon like a well-trained puppy. Every smile, every kiss became a reward. His main crew had slowly but surely become aware that something was going on between the boss and the client. It had somehow become a quietly accepted fact. He'd been a little obvious about it, he supposed. Also, he was working a bit out of character. Normally he'd have sent his original insertion team on to secure her other offices, starting with the first one on her travel agenda. But this time, he'd refused to send any of his key people to secure the London office, keeping them close for obvious reasons. Usually he sent his own people because they were the ones he trusted best to get the job done, but instead he kept the entire primary team on Devon, disliking the idea of anyone else being responsible for her. Still, they had accepted his decision as if he did it the same way every time. Besides, her jet needed securing for the upcoming trip to London. Or that was the immediate excuse he had used to try to explain his reluctance to part with Kellen, Inez, and the others.