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  But the horizon was a blur. And every breath just brought another swipe of the knife, cutting a deeper chasm inside, opening the way for his mind to plunge deeper. He gripped his bottle and paced to the window, forcing himself to concentrate on the present, to take in every shape and swirl of the electronic tapestry forming the boulevard below.

  It wasn’t working.

  He still drowned in dread and couldn’t figure out why.

  Until his brother spoke again.

  “Wait another damn minute. If Mom was working with our side the whole time, and we cleared all the residents out of A-51, then who were those G-suits I signed Shay over to? And why did they beat and torture the crap out of him?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Zoe didn’t know her heart could break just by looking at someone. This moment proved her wrong.

  Her chest clutched from the agony of watching Shay as he watched Tait, knowing his brother was finally stringing every piece of evidence together—and arriving at the truth at the end of that line. Tait peered at Shay with layers of new intensity, though beyond that, Zoe couldn’t tell if the man was shocked, horrified, confused, or all three. Clearly Shay couldn’t discern that answer either, and his torment over that was hewn in every taut line of his body…every haunted, bruised line of his face.

  She yearned to go to him. To ease his anguish. But she could only sit there and hope it was enough, her own version of a disgusting hell.

  Tait finally jabbed the throbbing blister of a silence. “Shay. Shit. Shay.” He took a step.

  Shay rushed backward by two. “Don’t,” he growled. “Just don’t, T.”

  “Okay. Fine.” Tait tilted his head forward before shaking it again. “Wait. Hold on. Why do they even suspect that you—”

  “Little parting gift from Homez,” Shay growled. “A whole vial of the serum. I drank it the night Mom left, thinking it was some special thing from her.”

  “Big deal.” Tait spread his arms. “You were a kid. Maybe it simply…passed through you…”

  Shay made a rolling motion with one of his hands. “Keep going. You’re doing good, broheim. It’s the same script I ran when they had me strapped down to that gurney. I don’t look like the others, right? I’m completely normal. No scales or horns or fins. Figured they’d test me and then throw me back.” A growl, sudden and anguished and angry, ripped out of him. “Well, they didn’t throw me back, damn it.”

  “Okay.” Tait stared harder at his brother. “It’s going to be fine, okay? You’ll handle this. We’ll handle this. We’ll—”

  “I don’t want to fucking handle this!” Shay’s sprint across the room made Zoe’s heart feel like a caged animal—appropriate for the vicious desperation in every inch of his movements, too. “You know what I want, Tait? I want someone to cut me open from my throat to my balls so I bleed. And I want this monster inside me to be drowning in every drop of that shit. And I want to lie there, watching that fucker drown and die.” He gripped the wall, his fingernails scoring the stucco, digging out chunks of it with the force of his fury. “I don’t want this poison handled, Tait. I want it gone.”

  He disappeared down the hall.

  Two seconds later, one of the bedroom doors thundered shut.

  Before any of the men could stop her, Zoe rushed to her feet and ran across the room too. She bolted past the bedroom where her friends were piled on the bed watching a Step Up movie, to the door still trembling from the force of Shay’s slam.

  She was glad he hadn’t thought to lock it—though as soon as she entered, the tic went off in his jaw, likely damning himself for the oversight.

  “Get out, Zoe,” he snarled. “Now.”

  She trembled. Caramba. His rage was a force in the room, short-circuiting her in ways she’d never felt before. Part of her understood his frustration and shared his anger. Another part ached deeply for him. And another part, unattached to any logical thought, gave way to her inner cavegirl, responding in its purest form to his caveman…turning the crux of her thighs into a pulsing puddle.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  She sucked in a breath and dropped her hands to her sides. Through the next breath, she told herself she wasn’t an idiot for locking herself in a room with a beast with hunched, heaving shoulders, arms spread, hands flattened against the window.

  How she longed to rush to him, molding her body against his back, whispering a reprise of Tait’s pledge. It would be okay. They’d help him through this, no matter what “this” ended up being like.

  That was where curiosity rammed itself into the picture.

  Shay had taken his “magic honey” shooter when he was nine years old. According to what Ghid had relayed to them, the incubation period for the other test subjects hadn’t been eighteen months, let alone eighteen years.

  What had happened differently with Shay? Did the serum affect children differently than adults? Was that the reason Homer slipped the vial to him?

  The questions were as daunting as the power of her need to be here for him. And with him…in any way he needed.

  She scooted forward by one shaky step. Another. “That’s— That’s not a good idea,” she stammered.

  An ominous rumble crawled out of him. “Right. Because the way things have been going has been such a string of good ideas lately.”

  Crazily, that replaced her nervous chill with a hot gust of anger. “Five days ago, you thought three hours in a hotel room with me was a pretty good idea.”

  His fingers went white against the dark glass. “Damn it.”

  “And another one on a hospital bed in the middle of the desert.”

  “Zoe.”

  “What?” It tore out of her at full volume, and she didn’t care who heard. “Dios mio! Don’t you get it? Every minute, every second of those hours was like gold turned into time for me. Before them, I felt like an alien on my own planet, seeking a connection that didn’t exist here.” So much for breathing deeply. Or holding back the tears that had been pummeling at the base of her throat. “I’m thankful for every turn your life took that brought you to that airport bar…that led you to me. And yes, that even conspired to put us on that crazy flight here. And if you answer me one more time with that damn growl, I’ll make sure everyone in this suite knows it. Maybe the whole Vegas Strip.”

  He swung his head around, glowering at her with bloodshot eyes. “Try it, and you won’t be able to sit tomorrow.”

  He meant it. Every word. And every cell in her body, sparking with terror and need at once, adored him for it. This man…turned her inside out. Made her insane.

  And infuriated.

  “Is this the part where my dutiful ‘Yes, Sir’ is supposed to make an appearance? Don’t hold your breath, Sergeant.”

  His glare narrowed. “Goddamnit, Zoe.”

  “Fuck you, Shay.”

  “You’re not making any sense!”

  “Bullshit I’m not.” Her voice cracked. Appropriate, considering what was going on inside her heart.

  A dark huff fell from Shay. He wearily shook his head. “You’re the craziest woman I’ve ever met.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, crazy’s a good thing when it comes to us.” She jabbed her chin up, wishing for heels over her flats to help with the defiant posture. At least the flats had a little sparkle. “So if you think you’re getting rid of me, just because you think you’re some changed creature”—she took another step, reaching out for him—“when it’s you who have changed me…” Tentatively, she lowered her hand to his back. “You need to think again, damn it.”

  “Zoe—”

  “You opened me again. Filled me in so many incredible ways. I don’t know how I’ll ever communicate—”

  “Stop.” He left her with only the stark imprints of his hands on the window after he wrenched away. “Stop it, Zoe. Now. Please.”

  She couldn’t listen to him. She wouldn’t. “Shay—”

  “Damn it, Zoe!” He wheeled back toward her, his gaze at full dagger
force. “What are you going to say? That you understand me now? That you once felt like a mutant, so you get everything that’s going on here? It doesn’t fucking work that way! We’re not suddenly soul mates because of this!”

  Twisting herself back from the temptation to slap his gorgeous face, she retorted, “You’re right. We’re not soul mates—because of this.” She jutted her chin again, refusing to let him go from the direct demand of her stare. “We were already connected, five nights ago, because of things far more amazing than this.” A new sting pressed behind her eyes. “Go ahead,” she rasped, blinking hard against the tears. “Tell me I’m full of shit for that now too. It won’t change the fact that it is a fact.”

  A roar curled out of him as he turned on her again, clawing a hand at the back of his neck. “I can’t do this.”

  Zoe snorted. “Can’t or won’t?”

  As his head dipped, his hand curled tighter. “I don’t…know how. Damn it, Zoe, I just don’t know how.”

  “Because you think you have to do it alone.” She reached and pressed the button to extinguish the bedside lamp. The movement brought her next to him, a good thing since the sole light in the room now came from the city stretching for miles below. She lifted her hand to his downturned jaw, her fingers sizzling from the burn of his thick stubble. “The mission’s over, remember? You don’t have to do this by yourself anymore.”

  He pushed her away, gently this time. “I’m lost, dancer. Nothing’s in control.”

  A rough sigh escaped him. The wind shooshed past the window. Something with a siren wailed through the streets below.

  Chaos and uncertainty outside. Darkness and shadows across the room.

  Yet Zoe was suddenly clearer than she’d been in days. Saner. More completely sure of being exactly where she was meant to be.

  No. Not exactly.

  She slid down until her knees met the carpet. Once there, she leaned forward, tucking her head against his thigh.

  “Then control me.”

  Now everything was right.

  Or so she hoped.

  Shay’s silence extended through an interminable minute. Another. In the middle of the first, he lowered a hand to her head, sifting his fingertips through her hair, inch by slow inch. He still made no other movement or sound.

  Zoe waited.

  She battled not to feel as if she searched for constellations in a starless sky. If the midnight of this moment extended for an hour, she’d wait. She let the promise fill her mind as she desperately, stupidly, pressed tighter to his leg. If anyone kicked in the door and burst into the room right now, they’d get quite a laugh from proud, self-sufficient Zoe Chestain, fawning at the feet of a man. She didn’t care. She belonged here. Simply being here for him. Offering him…

  Everything.

  The sudden tension of his hand was stunning but thrilling. When he wrapped his fingers into more of her hair and pulled, Zoe whimpered in a fusion of abrupt pain…and mounting arousal. In an instant, her mind spiraled into an ether she couldn’t explain, let alone control. It sucked the breath from her lungs, stopping her heart until it pounded in her chest, begging wildly for air.

  She finally pulled in a gasp as Shay rolled his hand to the back of her head, dragging the hair he already had in his fist. He grunted hard as she cried out in full, and then again when he pulled her face up against the ridge beneath his jeans zipper.

  “Dios.” It was all she had time to gasp before he guided her mouth up and down the flap, the denim stretched taut from the flesh that pounded beneath. Zoe moaned, widening her jaw, letting her mind succumb to her soul’s needs for service and submission.

  “Sweet baby girl.” Shay barely added volume to the gruff yet adoring utterance. “You do want this, don’t you?”

  “Mmmm.” She sighed in place of a nod since his hold was still deliciously restrictive. “Yes, Sir. Oh…yessss…”

  He growled in harsh approval before using his free hand to twist the button of his pants free. Zoe sighed again, inhaling the musk of his arousal and the tang of his skin while he directed her face to the top of his magnificent bulge.

  “Unzip it,” he ordered. “Use only your mouth.”

  She peered up, rejoicing in the molten light that shined down on her from his gaze. His eyes were the color of new chains, a perfect comparison to the bonds she yearned to form with him. Shay Bommer, in his passion and fire and domination, was rapidly ruining her for any other man. Perhaps ever.

  After locking her lips around the zipper pull, she dipped her head, opening every lock of the metal teeth until nothing barred her from his cock except his BVDs. She couldn’t help licking her lips while beholding the strained fabric, already dark with an oval wet spot as evidence of his hot desire. Vaya, how she longed to set his erection free. To lick and nibble every pulsing inch of his huge erection…

  “Not until you earn it, baby girl.” As usual, the man seemed to read her damn mind. She was tempted to chuck him a prissy pout in return, but instinct stopped her short. She was glad she listened. She couldn’t be wasting time on a pout with Shay’s hands in her hair, yanking her to her feet and then angling her for the searing assault of his savage kiss. Only after he twisted her head in six different angles, ensuring his tongue branded every corner of her mouth, did he release her so harshly, it felt like finality. But she knew better, a perception that injected new fear to her blood—which, God help her, slammed like a shot of sexual heroin.

  She waited, helpless and panting—and praying he’d shoot her up again.

  He stared at her, his cuts and abrasions turning him into a foreboding sight, the human version of a storm deciding whether to lay waste to a village. As the village who’d just begged fate for this, Zoe couldn’t decide whether she was the universe’s biggest idiot or most lucky submissive.

  He didn’t make her wait long for the answer. Scooping her hand into his, he yanked her along the window, back to the place he’d been occupying when she came in. He whirled her, making her face the black glass. A shiver rippled to her toes when he pressed behind her, flattening one huge hand against her belly while wrapping the other around the base of her neck.

  “Take off your clothes,” he dictated into her ear. “But keep facing the glass.” Both of his hands dug into her flesh, emphasizing how firmly he meant the demand…as if the corrugation to his voice didn’t communicate it already.

  Her sexual high had officially gotten another kick.

  Her hands shook as she shed her sweater and then worked the fastenings of her jeans. “Mierda,” she spat after trying to free the button a third time. She could’ve launched an inner tirade, questioning all her nervous virgin behavior, but why? She already knew why everything about this felt like the first time with Shay—the terrifying first time. His defenses were compromised. The guard on his composure? Nearly nonexistent. He needed this…the untamed run of his darker, harder Dom. And though it scared the crap out of her, she was pretty sure she needed it too. The fullness of their connection…

  Her romantic pep talk was ripped short. Literally. Just as she succeeded in pushing the jeans down, a loud tear came from the bathroom. Another, and then another.

  Que pasó? Was he decimating the damn towels?

  She didn’t receive her answer for that until she was finished stripping and stood before the glass, listening to her rickety breaths against the whir of the air-conditioning, for what felt like a small eternity. The minutes were the longest of her life. Focusing on the schricks Shay made did nothing to slow her heartbeat…or lessen the strange onslaught of self-consciousness about her full nudity.

  Or was it strange? Lounging naked in her own bedroom, with nobody around to watch except the Gene Kelly and Ginger Rogers prints on her wall, was insanely different than standing in wait for the man who clearly intended on dominating every inch of her body…who finally reentered, two long white lengths trailing from his hand.

  She dug her teeth into her lower lip. Her womb clenched. Her pussy seeped.<
br />
  Caramba. He’d really ripped up the towels.

  With the window doubling as a mirror, she watched him walk from the bathroom and drape his new creations on the bed—a pair of white linen ropes, formed of narrow strips he’d torn and then knotted together. Shay, still in his loose T-shirt and jeans with the open fly, looked every inch like Satan’s single-minded henchman. As he turned and draped her in a hard, evaluating stare, Zoe guessed his solitary purpose wasn’t catching up on the TV he’d missed this week. She couldn’t discern anything about his thoughts from the brutal angles of his face. That didn’t stop her lungs from shoving out her breaths in staccato bursts or her throat from rivaling the Mojave for negative humidity numbers.

  He let her squirm in the light that spilled from the bathroom before reaching around the doorway and cutting the illumination with a strangely ominous click.

  They were plunged into neon-tinted shadows again.

  One word emanated from the depths of Shay’s chest.

  “Perfect.”

  He scooped up the ropes on his way back over to her. By the time he stood directly behind her, he’d stretched the lengths between his hands, winding his wrists to pull them taut. Zoe shivered anew, though she couldn’t determine whether it was from watching his masculine move or the power of his presence, so close and heated and huge behind her.

  He stepped even closer, lifting the ropes so he could slither them down over her face, into the valley of her neck, and then down over her breasts, brushing her nipples with both his thumbs, causing them to tingle with a thousand more electrons of awareness. “Ohhhh,” she moaned. “Vaya. Sí. Me vuelves loca. Quiero más…más…”

  He met her request, rolling her sensitive tips between his thumbs and the towel. A combination of sadistic and soft that had her writhing and whining for him.

  “Your tits are so beautiful. They love to stand at attention for me.”

  She could only nod in response. His words mixed with his touch flooded her body, pooling in a thick, warm cream that lined every tissue in her throbbing sex. She needed him inside her about five minutes ago—though she knew, with dreading surety, the wait for his cock had only just begun. The man hadn’t just destroyed a pair of hundred-dollar towels so he could give her a little sensual tease.