Body Master (22 page)

A Shifter took a step toward her with the other one on his heels. “Maybe he did say alive, but he didn’t say in what kind of shape.”

Hell, that wouldn’t do either. She needed to come up with better plans. Now her options were death, near-death, or escape. Easy choice.

Seneca concentrated her vision on them, waiting for their shadows to give away their next move. She raised her chin. “Go for it, asshole.”

A shadow reached for her. At the last second she twisted and lunged right as the Shifter’s hand jammed into her gear bag. She slipped the bag off and sprinted for the nearest fire alarm. She almost made it too. Then a big hand smacked her on the side of the head, slamming her into a nearby car. Her knees gave out, but an arm caught her around the neck and yanked her off her feet.

Her head spun as Shifter skin tightened around her throat. The Shifter whispered in her ear, “Do that again, and I will kill you.”

She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t inhale. Her fingers dug into his arm, trying to loosen his steely grip that was suffocating her. No chance of that happening. Then he turned them both around to face the other Shifter, who was grinning. She tried to concentrate on force-shifting her captor. Unfortunately, her rattled, oxygen-deprived brain wasn’t functioning enough to comply.

Shift,
she thought.
Shift!

But nothing happened, and the garage started to fade to black.

Her hands lost all strength and dropped to her side. She was six again, hiding behind a door, watching her parents die.

Her body shuddered and shut down.

Her final thoughts floated away from her.
I’m dying. I’m dying, and I’ll never see Max again.

Black crowded out everything else. Suddenly, she had the sensation of being shoved hard and freed. She landed flat on her back on the concrete floor, dazed and gasping for air. Around her, there was yelling and crashing and fighting, but she couldn’t move. She told her body to sit up, knowing she had to defend herself.

Seneca opened her eyes and watched three Shifters battle across the garage. Their shadows merged, slashed, and separated. Her muscles finally lurched, moving awkwardly and out of sync. Coughing, she rolled on her side, struggling to get up as the floor tilted.

She finally managed to sit up, swaying unevenly. One Shifter was down on the ground. The other two slammed against the cars and walls. Car alarms were blaring, wrecking havoc with her brain and disorienting her senses even more.

Have to get up,
she kept thinking.
Have to fight.
But her body just wouldn’t do it. She put her head in her hands. After a few moments, the fighting stopped. With dread, she opened her eyes. The last Shifter would either finish her off or take her alive to Hager. And then she’d be dead. No one would save her.

She saw Shifter feet walking toward her and slowly looked up to accept her fate. Her heart leapt in her chest as the Shifter morphed with every step closer, his human face and body and clothes changing.

S
he was alive. It was all that mattered. He didn’t care that she’d lied to him and met Bart without him All he cared about was the unguarded look of joy and wonder on her face as she gazed at him.

“It’s you,” she rasped.

Her words melted something inside him. She wasn’t looking around, only at him when she said it. He knelt down in front of her as she rocked slowly, her face pale and her eyes glassy. She was in rough shape, possibly concussed.

“Good thing or you’d be in trouble,” he said softly.

Seneca tried to laugh and coughed. “Already am.”

“Anything broken?”

When she shook her head, he helped her to her feet, and then swept her up into his arms. Without objection, she relaxed into him as he carried her to his car and laid her in the backseat.

Max called the office and told them to get a cleanup crew in the basement garage pronto. It gave him something to do besides thinking about Seneca’s condition. The Shifters had targeted her, which meant he couldn’t bring her to a hospital or to her house. Which was fine, because he wouldn’t be letting Seneca out of his sight again. His heart couldn’t take it.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled into the hotel parking lot on Long Island and looked back to see that Seneca had fallen asleep. Her cheek was bruised, and her throat red and raw. It could have been worse, and the thought of what could have been scared the hell out of him.

He helped Seneca out of the car. She was able to walk, but she was still a little shaky. He let her into his hotel room, and she went straight to the bathroom.

Max stood in the middle of the room and rubbed his face. Hell. He’d known it would piss off the Shifters if he went after Skinman, but he’d done it anyway. Not for XCEL, not for humanity, not for Seneca, but for himself. Now everyone he’d dragged into this had a death sentence.

It was his fault she was a target and his responsibility to protect her. He recalled the look on her face when she saw him. It was so honest and so beautiful and told him everything she felt about him. If she’d lied to him about Bart, there was a reason. And who was he to talk? He’d lied to her from the very beginning.

It was time he came clean, before he got her killed. He started pacing the room. This was far more complicated and dangerous than he had ever imagined. From what Bart had shared with him, the Shifters had Hager for a leader, and he would stop at nothing to bring death and devastation to Shifters, humans, this planet. The only thing standing between Hager and the world was Max. Maybe Noko was right. Maybe he was supposed to do something important with his life.

Max heard the bathroom door open. Seneca leaned against the doorjamb and looked at him. Her coloring was better and her eyes more focused. She’d shed her shoes and socks, revealing surprisingly delicate bare feet. As usual, she was gorgeous even with the bruises and torn clothes.

He had to tell her the truth.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You need a doctor?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

There was something about her quiet tone that seemed odd. “We have to talk. About Hager.”

She tilted her head. “You didn’t return my calls. Why?”

The truth.
“Because I saw you meet with Bart.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You followed me?”

He added, “And because you lied to me about it.”

Seneca rubbed her bruised neck gingerly. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s the only way Bart would meet me. He was afraid you . . .”

“I couldn’t be trusted,” Max finished.

Seneca dropped her hand. “Yes.”

“He’s right.”

His words hung in the air between them, and the look on her face changed, softened. His body went on full alert even as she walked up to him and stopped a foot away. Her eyes were hooded, her lips full. “He’s wrong. I trust you.”

Max closed his eyes. “Don’t.”

He felt her hand on his face, her warm palm press against his cheek. She was close when he opened his eyes, and he grasped her fingers in his. This was going to be harder than he expected. “We need to talk—”

“I’m done talking,” she said, and kissed him. For a moment, he didn’t move. And then, every fiber of his being focused on her as he kissed her back. His mind began playing out what he wanted to do with her. His senses came alive, overpowered by one, single, promising desire—Seneca.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him full access to all of her. His hands reached out of their own accord, finding warm fabric over soft skin. Everything he wanted was in his hands. His fingers slipped under her shirt, and he heard her moan against his mouth. He felt her unbuttoning his shirt, one button at a time, moving down. When she tugged the shirt out of his jeans, he sucked air at the sensation of fabric against his erection.

He kissed her hard, the surge of desire firing his soul. His body was no longer his, his mind lost. He belonged to her as much as she belonged to him. A faint
tell her
flashed in his thoughts and promptly evaporated in the heat. Everything could wait. The world could end. He was not stopping now.

Seneca dragged his shirt off his shoulders. He relinquished her just long enough to shed the garment and then lifted her shirt over her head. A black bra and hard nipples greeted him.

He pulled her to him, pressing bare skin to bare skin, and let out a long growl. This body, his body, felt every movement, every touch, every rub. The scent of her pheromones was so powerful, it threatened to drive him mad. She wanted him, but nowhere near as badly as he wanted her.

Seneca was kissing him, nipping at his lips while she unsnapped his jeans and carefully unzipped them. His erection pressed into her palms, freed from the confining fabric. He felt a groan vibrate through his chest when she cupped him gently, running her fingers along his length. He closed his eyes, savoring every touch as she wrapped her fingers tightly around him. For long moments, he couldn’t breathe, lost in the chaos of sensation and the powerful urge to thrust into her.

Instead, he reached around and unhooked her bra. The straps slid down her arms and she let the bra fall to the floor. Her breasts were round and firm, with dark nipples that tightened even as he watched. He breathed in, breathed out, and then growled as he picked her up and laid her on the bed. She watched him with heavy eyes while he stripped off her jeans, sliding them down to reveal long, lean thighs, and firm calves. Black panties edged with lace smoothed over her hips and flat stomach.

He kneeled on the bed over her, their eyes locked as he slipped his fingers under the lace and rolled the thin fabric down over her legs until he stood at the end of the bed, holding silk in his hands and beauty in his eyes.

Every part of skin he’d revealed was exquisite, soft, and warm. She waited for him, naked and bold in her desire. He loved her this way—no holds barred. Then her lips parted and whispered, “I want you, Max.”

He felt the words to his core, felt the hunger rise in his belly that only she could fulfill. He tried to harness his desire before it consumed them both. He was too close to the edge as it was, wanted her too much. When he thought he had himself under control, he removed the rest of his clothes, everything that separated them. He crawled across the bed, their eyes locked the entire time. His breathing was rough and fast, his muscles screaming with restless energy. Her pupils widened as he positioned himself over her.

“Now,” she whispered.

He shook his head. He wanted to make it right for her, but he was close to losing any semblance of restraint. He dipped his head to wrap his lips around one taut nipple.

Seneca arched into him and dragged her fingernails down his chest. He felt her dig into his skin, exposing raw desire that sent shock waves through his body. He settled his thigh between her legs as he tasted the other nipple.

She wrapped her hand around his neck to pull him closer. Her hips rubbed his erection. He tried to hang on, was crazy enough to think he could, and then something snapped in his head. Whatever plan he once had was gone, leaving behind a primal force so fierce and basal that he could do nothing but surrender to it.

Max dropped to his elbows, moved her legs apart, and buried himself deep inside her. He savored the way her muscles gripped him and the heaven he’d found. She gave a cry and dug her nails into his back as he pulled out and thrust into her again and again, greedy in his need. Time spun out, their bodies parting and meeting in a reckless, frantic pace.

The sweet torture of pain and pleasure flooded his senses. Heat and passion, taut and tight—all melded in a potent mix that overwhelmed to the point of agony.

Moments later, Seneca sunk her nails into his shoulders and gave a shudder as she climaxed. The look on her face put him over the edge. He wrapped his arms around her neck, shielding her as he gave his body freedom—driving again and again, until release saved him.

The sun was rising when Seneca finally roused. She sighed and reached for Dempsey, but the bed lay empty. The sound of the shower made her smile. She rolled over onto her back and stretched her body across the disaster of a bed. It had been a long time since she’d slept all night with a man. And Dempsey was a man on a mission. After the first furious time, he’d slowed down and taken his sweet time. Several times. She was probably ruined for life.

And he’d saved her life.

She’d thought she was dead in the parking garage. And he’d shown up just in time. She didn’t think . . . She didn’t believe in heroes. Demons, yes. She would have died there, and she was ready to. Because no one would have come to her rescue; no one ever had before. Until now. Maybe there was hope after all. Maybe she wasn’t alone. Maybe there was a god or a Great Spirit or something else that intervened. Or not. But there was one man.