Betrayed: Days of the Rogue (24 page)

“And had you always planned on
being an artist?”

Eve shrugged. “I guess. I’ve always
been good at it. I studied art but had no clear idea of what I was
going to do once I graduated. I got lucky and landed a summer job
with an advertising firm and learned a bit about the commercial
side of it. Then Caro connected me with a publishing company
looking for cover artists and also started helping me sell my
paintings.”

She talked idly about her job;
funny experiences, the discouragement of not selling anything for
months, the high when she made her first sale, her up-coming
show…

Faint embers still glowed in the
fireplace and she stared at them sleepily. At some point, Rafe had
rearranged her and she was now half-sitting on his lap. He was idly
rubbing her upper arm with one hand, the other resting on her hip.
For a while she enjoyed the soothing action before starting to
mimic the gesture, running her hand over the lapel of his robe. The
terry-cloth was soft beneath her hand and she spent some time
enjoying the sensation of playing with it, noting how it changed
colour depending on the direction she brushed it. She traced the
edge of the material, her finger sliding over the satin piping that
edged it. His bare skin was just within reach of her fingers and
she recalled how it had felt last night. Smooth skin over hard
muscle. Without thinking she placed her hand on his naked chest and
immediately he froze.

“Eve?”

Surprised at her own action, she
did nothing. Holding her breath, she stared at the contrast of her
pale skin against his darker tones, feeling the steady thud of his
heart beneath her palm. The room was silent except for the faint
crackle of the fire and the ticking of the mantel clock. Even Aly
had quit snoring. It was as if the whole world were waiting for her
decision. Did she pull away or move forward?

She wet her lips and slowly
exhaled. Then, carefully, tentatively, she spread her fingers out,
exploring the flesh before her. So strong. So warm. Mesmerized, she
watched her hand as she moved it over his body, pushing the
material of his robe out of the way, further exposing him to her
view. She encountered his nipple and circled it with her fingertip,
feeling how it puckered under her touch.

Rafe’s breathing hitched and,
boldly, she leaned forward flicking the tip of her tongue over the
hardening nub.

He shifted his hold on her and
eased her back until they were looking at each other.

“This isn’t a good idea.” Rafe
frowned down at her.

Eve nodded in agreement, but
continued stroking his chest. She could feel his shaft hardening.
He closed his eyes as her hand drifted downward, playing with the
knot of his robe. Yes, this
was
a bad idea, yet, if it was,
then why did she find herself shifting position so she could
straddling him?

Her knees on either side of his
hips, she gently pulled the labels of his robe apart, completely
exposing his chest. She ran her hands over his pecs while trailing
soft kisses across his collar bone.

“Eve…” He groaned her name, his
hands now encasing her ribs, his thumbs stroking the sides of her
breasts through the thin material of her nightgown.

She kissed her way up from his
collar bone, licking his neck, while moving her hands downwards to
tug at the knot of his robe again. Her knuckles brushed against his
stomach and when she bit the cord of his neck, he thrust his hips.
There was no denying his arousal. It nudged at her through the
layers of material and she felt herself grow wet. If only his robe
and her nightgown would vanish.

Slowly, she began to rock against
him. His hands finally cupped her breasts, kneading in time with
her rhythm. She kissed his jaw, then found his mouth. Their lips
parted and touched, brushing and teasing, locking together then
separating only to return for more. Electric tingles danced over
her mind, reaching out, searching…

“Dammit, Eve! You just lost me that
twenty bucks I won earlier!”

The sound of Aly’s voice had Eve
jerking back, startled at the unexpected interruption. “What…?” She
blinked at her friend, embarrassment, confusion and frustrated
anger warring within her.

Aly stood near the doorway, her
hair tousled and her eyes bleary. “I bet Caro you wouldn’t get it
on with your hunk while I was here. Geez, Eve. You gotta learn to
control yourself.” And with that Aly turned and stumbled towards
the bathroom.

Eve blinked, absorbing what Aly
just said before climbing off Rafe’s lap. What was she doing? She
never acted like this! And why the heck were Aly and Caro making
bets about her and Rafe? It had to be Caro’s doing. Just wait until
she saw her again!

She peered at Rafe out of the
corner of her eye. “I’m…er…”

“Yeah.” He scrubbed his hand over
his face and got to his feet as well. A muscle was ticking in his
jaw again. “I suppose we should thank her.”

“Right.” Eve scowled at the
bathroom door. “Thanks a lot, Aly.”

Chapter 21

Damien wiped the sweat from his
face with his shirt and tossed it aside before grabbing a bottle of
water. Sitting down to rest on the worn steps in front of his
cabin, he took a long drink and absently rubbed his right leg. A
large pile of debris gave evidence to how he’d spent his time. The
porch was partially dismantled, the rotted boards removed, and he’d
taken measurements for the ones that needed to be replaced. He’d
have to call Rafe about heading to the lumberyard for some more
posts; from what he recalled, there weren’t enough stockpiled in
the back shed.

He wondered if his reception would
be any warmer than it had been yesterday morning; Rafe had
definitely been pissed off. A smirk twisted his lips as he thought
about how much he’d enjoyed that reaction. Not that he’d purposely
planned it. There was just something about Eve that had him opening
up, sharing things he hadn’t spoken of in ages. Perhaps it was her
subtle resemblance to Beth, or simply the fact that she seemed so
sincere. Whatever the case, he’d been shocked when she’s hugged
him, and even more surprised when he’d actually hugged her
back.

The feeling had been…strange.
Comforting, warm… Some of the tension that constantly twisted his
guts had actually eased infinitesimally. And his wolf had murmured
its approval; how long had it been since that had happened? Of
course, nothing could come of it. Eve was Fae and his purpose was
set. Speaking of which…

He checked his watch and then
pulled out his cell phone; it was time to make contact. The phone
rang exactly once before being answered letting him know his call
was expected. “Checking in.”

“Anything new?”

He thought briefly about how he’d
hugged Eve. “No. Contact has been established. My presence won’t be
questioned.”

“Good. Things are coming to a head.
The target is confirmed.”

“I’m in position and ready.”

His contact grunted. “Don’t act
until I give the word, though.”

The order and the tone of voice
both rankled and he responded accordingly. “I’ll move when my gut
says it’s time.”

“Negative. You’ll wait for
orders.”

“Fuck that. I’m in the field. I’ll
do whatever the situation requires.” Damien ended the call,
clenching his hand into a fist. Damn, he hated this. Hated the
waiting, hated the deception. Go in, do the job and get out. That’s
what he’d signed on for. Nothing else.

Frustrated, he stormed over to the
lake that flanked the cabin, shucking his jeans and toeing off his
shoes before diving in. The icy water was shocking but the pain of
the cold cleared his head. Surfacing, he pushed his hair from his
face and then set off in a rapid front crawl as if he could somehow
outrace the demons he carried inside. It wasn’t possible though.
His sins would live with him forever.

How many had died because of him?
How many lives cut short? How many grieving families? He shouldn’t
care; couldn’t care. A hard heart was the only way. Blood was
spilled, some lived, some died. No one lived forever and some
deserved less time than others. Their existence only brought pain
and sorrow. Their evil had to be eradicated.

“
Who kills the executioner?”
Beth’s voice whispered his head and his wolf rumbled its agreement.
In his mind’s eye, he could see Beth, her brow furrowed as she
puzzled over the complexity of what was right and what was
wrong.

During their brief time together,
how often had they lay in bed, their idle conversations turning
deep and serious? He’d always marvelled at the way her mind had
worked.

He paused, treading water,
wondering how she’d judge him. A knot formed in his belly and he
gave his head a shake. Taking a deep breath, he set off again,
determined not to think about the answer.

Finally exhausted, he waded to the
shore and picked up his pants and shoes. Naked and dripping wet, he
strode up to the cabin and dumped his clothing at the foot of what
remained of the porch. Spying his discarded t-shirt, he grabbed it
to use it as a towel only to pause as he brought it close to his
face. It smelled faintly of Eve, reminding him of their hug. She’d
felt small and delicate—he could have snapped her in two—but then
there’d been that show of spirit. He lifted the material to his
nose and inhaled deeply. So like Beth…and yet not.

His wolf stirred again, urging him
to return to Rafe’s, to find Eve.

“Shut up.” He barked at the beast
but it growled back, pushing against him, trying to take over. The
animal had its own agenda but that was just too fucking bad. He was
in charge, he called the shots. A wolf’s place was to follow
orders. It didn’t matter how either of them felt about Eve…

He firmed his jaw and pulled the
shirt on roughly. Hell, he’d wait for their orders but they’d
better give him the signal to move soon. Hanging around meant
getting attached, and there was no room for that in his life. Eve
was a job, nothing more.

Chapter 22

Aly had left early in the morning
and Eve had spent some time cleaning up from the impromptu
sleepover. Pizza dishes and wine glasses, plates from breakfast and
coffee mugs had all been washed. Then still feeling inspired, she’d
tackled the towels and bedding as well as her laundry only to come
to the conclusion that she needed a few more items from her
cabin.

Now she was bustling about her old
bedroom, shoving clean clothes into a bag and grabbing a few
essentials from the bathroom. Rafe was waiting in the living room,
having insisted on driving her. She’d protested that there’d been
no sign of the wolf in days, but he hadn’t budged.

“Either I go with you, or you don’t
go at all.” He folded his arms and leaned back in his computer
chair, his expression bland yet unyielding.

She’d huffed at the ultimatum,
having thought she’d casually tap on his door and mention she’d be
gone for part of the afternoon. In her heart, she knew it was
common sense but a part of her balked at his high-handed manner.
For a psychologist she’d have thought he’d be less bossy and more
open to listening; she’d even told him as much.

“The clientele I work with demand a
firm hand,” he’d replied.

“I’m not one of your clients.”

“No, but you’re just as stubborn
and hell bent on your own destruction as some of them are.”

She’d begun to protest but he’d cut
her off.

“If you want to go to your cabin,
I’ll take you right now. If not, I have work to do and, if need be,
I’ll tie you to my bed to keep you from doing something
foolish.”

The idea of being tied to his bed
had caused her heart to race and her temperature to rise.
Almost…almost…she’d been tempted to defy him just to see if he’d
really do it, but one look at his face told her he probably would.
The thought was both exciting and a bit scary at the same time.
Instead, she swallowed hard and conceded, her voice coming out more
as a squeak than the confident tone she’d wished for.

“Fine, if you’re going to be that
way about it, I’ll go grab my purse.” She’d spun on her heel and
forced herself to walk away rather than run.

His soft laughter had followed her
down the hallway letting her know that somehow he knew she’d found
his suggestion arousing.

Now Eve stood in the small bedroom
of her cabin giving it a final glance to see if she’d forgotten
anything. Spotting the charger for her cell phone she grabbed it
and headed to the living room. Intent on gathering a few more art
supplies, she came up short when she saw what Rafe was up to.

He was near her drafting table
staring at her drawings again, and she groaned inwardly. The
sketches of him were still prominently posted on the corkboard.
Perhaps, she’d just not mention them; they were nothing to be
ashamed of. It
was
art, after all!

“I’m almost ready.” She infused her
voice with a carefree tone and began to gather some watercolour
paper. A grunt was the only reply she got. The drive had been
conducted mostly in silence, too; Rafe lost in thought. Apparently,
not much had changed.

She nudged him out of the way and
he moved half a step. That was when she noticed that he had a book
in his hand. It was a romance novel she’d been reading and she’d
bookmarked a rather steamy scene. He was glancing between the book
and her drawings an amused quirk on his usually stern face.

“What are you doing?”

“I find your choice of reading
material very enlightening.”

“It’s just a romance.” She resisted
the urge to snatch it from his hands, and instead focussed on
staying calm so her cheeks didn’t flush again. Dammit, what was it
about Rafe that had her blushing all the time?

“‘He took her in his arms and
pressed her close, his hand cupped her heaving bosom…’” Rafe
glanced at her. “Is that what you picture me doing?” He nodded
towards her drawings of him.