Prodigal Son (21 page)

“Wish I could. This whole thing would be a whole lot easier.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out his own phone, checked the bars. “And I’ve got no service here.”

She folded her arms. “Convenient.”

“You know, considering all we’ve been through, a little faith would not be unreasonable.”

“Please. I’m stuck in the middle of the desert with a man who claims to be psychic.”

He shoved the phone back in his pocket. “It’s not something I advertise. And you asked about the crystal.”

“Yeah, tell me about that.” She lifted her chin in challenge. “And the truth this time, please.”

“Truth. Yeah, okay.” He looked her straight in the eye. “I told you I can always tell when someone is lying to me. Give it a shot.”

She scoffed. “That’s hardly a test. You’re going to expect me to lie to you.”

“I can’t win with you, can I?”

“Not if you keep trying to lead me on like I’m some idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot. And because you’re not, maybe you should try to explain what happened a few minutes ago with the crystal. I know you felt it.”

“I don’t know what happened. Maybe it was hallucinations. You know, from whatever drugs I was given that caused those blank spots in my memory.”

He nodded. “Oh, yeah, sure, that’s it. Well, here’s a news flash, sweetheart. I don’t think you were drugged. I think you were—how should I put it? Hypnotized. Put in a trance. Because before I passed out, I saw something in your eyes, some kind of binding that imprisoned your thoughts. And I think the Ugly Twins may have put it there.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then fumbled with the door handle. “Okay, that’s it. I’m walking back to that phone and calling the cops. You’re nuts.”

“Don’t be stupid.” He flipped the locks, then clicked the switch so that only he could unlock them. “It’s nearly twenty miles before you’d get back to the phone.”

She rattled the door handle. “Unlock this door right now.”

“Be reasonable, Cara. It’s the desert. You’ll fry out there with no water, no cell phone. I won’t let you kill yourself.”

“I have water.” She grabbed her bottle of water from the floor, cradled it against her like a shield. “I’ll be fine.”

“It’s suicide.”

“Oh, yeah? Did you see that in a vision?” She sneered, but he heard the hint of fear behind the bravado, and he hated it.

“No vision needed, sweetheart. It’s called common sense.”

“Common sense would be for me to take my chances on my own.”

He sighed, swiped a hand over his mouth. “I know how crazy it sounds.”

“Do you? Do you really?” She clutched the bottle of water more tightly. “Try putting yourself in my shoes and tell me what you would think.”

“Cara…” He reached for her hand.

She slapped it away. “Don’t touch me.” She shrank back into the seat, her beautiful brown eyes brimming with confusion and growing fear.

The vision struck like an eighteen-wheeler, knocking him out of the present and into the future.
Cara dead at the side of the road, the desert landscape stark around her. The burning vehicle. The mountains in the distance. The
DO NOT LITTER
sign at the side of the highway. Someone had stuck a smiley-face sticker on it.
The grief roared through him: a life destroyed, a sweet soul snuffed out. Cara.

He heard her voice from far away. “What’s wrong with you? Rafe?”

He tore himself from that sweet, caramel gaze, looked out the window at the mountains in the distance. Sucked in air. Fought against the lump in his throat. The here and now slowly slipped back into focus.

And he found himself staring at a
DO NOT LITTER
sign with a smiley face on it.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Get out of the car!” Rafe jerked his seat belt loose, unlocked all the doors and had his hand on the door handle before he realized she hadn’t moved. “Damn it, Cara, get out!”

“Why?” She leaned back in her seat a little, looking at him as if he were insane—probably just an upgrade from what she had been thinking when he’d revealed his powers to her.

“Look, a minute ago you couldn’t wait to ditch me.”

She jutted her chin at him. “I was mad.”

“Just get out of the car.”

“Like you said, it’s hot and—”

“
Get out of the car!
”

She flinched. “What’s wrong with you?” she whispered.

“We’re going to die in the next few minutes, that’s what.” He leaned over and released her seat belt. “Now, run!”

She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, so … what, you had a psychic vision?”

“Yes, damn it.” He opened his own door. “Get out and run!”

“You first.”

He jerked his gaze to hers.
She didn’t believe him, thought he would drive off and leave her standing at the side of the road.
“This is no time to be stubborn.”

“How are we going to die?”

The vision slammed into his head again: his SUV exploding as a hawk swooped through the sky above them. “Car bomb. Now let’s
go
!”

She slowly shook her head. “Sorry, Montana, but I’m not falling for these theatrics of yours.”

“Screw it.” He jumped out of the car and stalked around to her side. The piercing cry of a hawk reached his ears. He shaded his eyes and looked but didn’t see anything—yet. If the bird was close enough to hear, then they only had seconds. And Cara was being stubborn.

He jerked open her door, unlatched her seat belt, and hauled her out of the SUV. “Let’s go! Run!”

She struggled, yanking at her arm and nearly breaking his hold. He tightened his grip and started to drag her away from the vehicle. She whacked his hand with her water bottle.

“Quit hitting me!” He pointed to a large boulder a short distance away. “Let’s get behind that rock, quick!”

“You’re nuts, you know that?” she screamed. She smacked his hand over and over with the water bottle, digging in her heels as he hauled her toward the boulder.

The hawk screamed again. Rafe jerked his head up and saw it, a dot in the distance, coming closer. He looked down at Cara, at the fury and fear shining from her eyes. At the doubt. At the shadow of death still lingering.

They had no time.

He reached for the Hunter, opening about half throttle. The surge of power that immediately leaped to his command stunned him. Normally it took days to get this strong again after a burnout. Cara had somehow recharged him to twice the power in a fraction of the time.

He glanced at the bird again, and his now-sharpened eyesight allowed him to see that it was nearly upon them. Then he looked at Cara. Her eyes had gone wide.

“Rafe?” she whispered, uncertainty tingeing her voice.

“Run, Cara,” he commanded, swinging her around by her arm and releasing her. “We only have seconds.”

She turned to face him. “What’s wrong with you? Your eyes…”

“Run, Cara!” He grabbed her, spun her around, and shoved her. “
Run
!”

“Is this some kind of sick game?” Damn her, but she whirled to face him again, planting her feet in the sand. “I run and you catch me and … what? You rape me? Kill me? Both?”

The hawk shrieked a third time. Too close. Out of time.

“I’m sorry, Cara,” he said. And reached for the full power of the Hunter.

*   *   *

Rafe Montana had turned into a woman’s worst nightmare—handsome and sexy one moment, then psycho the next.

And now … now she didn’t know what.

His words of apology had barely registered before he changed. One minute his eyes had burned blue like cobalt, the next they transformed—dilated, something. Because suddenly they were jet black and … alien.

He charged at her. She screamed, but he scooped her off her feet in a fireman’s carry before she could move. She landed over his shoulder, and her breath whooshed from her lungs. He ran for the rock he had indicated, his hard shoulder digging into her belly. Then they were there, seconds later. He dumped her on the ground behind the rock. Came down on top of her.

And an explosion rocked the silence.

Explosion. Car bomb. He’d been telling the truth.

She would have been killed.

Her lungs heaved against rising sobs. Her eyes stung as the full import slammed over her. She’d nearly died. He’d tried to tell her. She’d argued, so sure she was right. So sure he was crazy. She squeezed her eyes shut and struggled for breath, laboring beneath the onslaught of emotion and the weight of the male body sprawled over her as smoke drifted to them on the breeze.

He shifted. A warm palm cupped her cheek.

She opened her eyes to see Rafe’s face inches above hers. His skin pulled taut across his cheekbones, his austere expression foreign, almost ruthless. And his eyes—those flat, black eyes. She’d expected to see nothing there, yet they burned with hot emotion, stripped down and basic.

She knew how he felt, coming so close to death. When he took her mouth in a hard, hungry kiss, she melted into him, eager. They were alive. By some miracle, they were alive. She shoved aside all the questions and just gave herself up to the heady joy of blood pumping through her veins and the long, lean length of hot-blooded male pressing her into the gritty sand—to the primitive instinct to perpetuate life in the face of death.

Demanding hands shoved her shirt up. Greedy fingers closed around her breast, curling into her bra cup and trying to pull it free. The fully aroused length of him pressed against her thigh through his jeans. His kiss roughened, becoming more insistent, more carnal.

Holy Hannah, he wanted to do it right here in the middle of nowhere. And with the shock of near death vibrating through her body, she realized that she wanted it, too.

She ripped her mouth away, arching her head back and sucking in air. He nipped at her neck, at the same time finally succeeding in scooping her breast out of her bra cup. He pinched her nipple, rolled it between his fingers. Hot pleasure jolted between her legs. He sucked on the flesh of her throat, ripping a moan from her.

She squirmed beneath him, arching her back, wrapping her arms around him. He knew just where to touch her,
how
to touch her. She shoved her hands under his shirt, sweeping them down to his waist, to his belt. But he grabbed her hands and yanked them away, trapping them on either side of her head with a primitive growl that ignited her juices as he rose over her.

He met her gaze, his eyes still black and burning with a lust that made her quiver. No man had ever looked at her like that. Never. She should make him stop. But he was Rafe, her lover—and he wasn’t. But he was. The riddle scrambled her thoughts. She should protest. She should beg him to take her. It was right. It was wrong. It was—

He released one of her hands and jerked down the zipper of her shorts, slipping his long fingers beneath her panties and stroking her wet flesh.

Need weakened her limbs and ripped a choked cry from her throat as her head spun. The ruthless hunger in his eyes—those alien eyes—shook her. What was she doing? This wasn’t Rafe—at least not the Rafe she knew. She grabbed his hand, tried to pull it free. When she couldn’t, she pressed it hard against her to halt his way-too-delicious stroking.

“Stop,” she said. “Wait.”

He narrowed his eyes. A frisson of fear trickled down her spine. Would he ignore her and do what he wanted anyway?

She pulled her hand away from his and shoved at his chest with both hands. Her palm hit a hard lump beneath his shirt—a lump that burned like fire.

The crystal.

He flinched backward, looked at her with suspicion.
Somehow the crystal was tied into all this.

“Rafe,” she murmured. She slipped her hand beneath his T-shirt, stroking upward over his lightly furred flesh until she closed her fingers around the sizzling stone. “Come back to me.”

He jerked once, but she held on to the stone, and he settled, his expression curious. She closed her eyes and waited for the white light she’d seen before, but it never came. Instead a shadowy cloud swept into her mind, lined with streaks of silver. Need shivered through her, urgent, undeniable. She knew she should flinch away, but she couldn’t do it. The dark cloud swept over her, heavy with hunger, laden with lust. With want. With strength. With the seductive knowledge that she could take what she wanted, fulfill her desires, if she just let it in. Let
him
in.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. His pupils still looked dilated, but pure blue ringed them now. His heart thudded beneath her clenched fingers, and his hand still rested between her legs. His breath came in slow, even pants.

He could have been inside her already, soothing the ache of her aroused flesh. Why had she stopped him? She arched her hips, rubbed her sensitive spot against his fingers. Everything throbbed now. She wanted him to pin her down and just screw her blind. Anything to make the burning need stop.

Slivers of silver danced through her mind, weaving through her thoughts, binding any notion of resistance. She was female; he was male. Their destiny lay in sating the painful arousal roiling through both of them …

A blast of white light shot through her mind, like a spotlight flooding her vision. She cried out and released the crystal, covering her eyes with her hands. Her body still trembled with sexual hunger. She wanted him so badly her mouth watered.

“Cara?”

She slowly lowered her hands. This was the first time he had spoken since the explosion. His eyes looked normal blue again, his face less taut, more relaxed. This was the Rafe she knew. “Rafe?”

“I’m sorry.” He jerked his hands out of her clothing, and she bit back a sob as he rolled off her and sat up. “I can explain.”

“Later.” She still shook, her skin hypersensitive—to the desert breeze, to the sand beneath her, to the warm sun overhead. Everything amped up her nearly unbearable arousal. “You have to finish this.”

“Cara, tell me what’s going on. Are you hurt? Did I…?”

“
I ache
.” She arched her hips, closing her eyes. “Oh, God, it’s so bad. I’ve never been this turned on in my life.” She focused on her breathing. In through nose, out through mouth. “Please, Rafe. I need you inside me.” She opened her eyes and stared right into his. “
Please
.”