I didn't say anything. Couldn't say anything, caught between expectation and ecstasy. He touched brushed lightly over the lace of my panties, then lifted my butt with one hand and pulled them down my legs. He tossed them aside then reached up and did the same to the shirt, so that I was all but naked.
Then his caress thrust deep inside of me, making me shiver and moan.
"So wet," he said, almost in awe. "I ache with anticipation."
He wasn't the only one. The brain might not want this, but the body was a slave to his mental juju and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
He stepped back and began to strip. His body was as glorious as I'd imagined, all sculptured golden flesh topped by a thick, engorged cock that seemed to grow even larger before my eyes.
And I both ached for and was repelled by it. Or maybe I was just repelled by the sheer fact that this was all being forced on me.
Then he stepped back between my legs, his hands grabbing my butt and holding me steady as that gloriously engorged piece of flesh slid deep inside of me.
A deep sound of pleasure rumbled from his throat, then he began to move, slowly at first but gradually getting faster, harder, until our coupling was a wild mesh of fury, lust and unbridled pleasure. Heated flesh slapped against heated flesh, bringing me to fulfillment, again and again, even though he himself never reached that peak.
The more it went on and on, the more I was being drained.
I had no doubt he'd suck me dry so completely he'd kill me if I didn't find a way to stop him. Because even if he didn't think we suspected him, he knew we were close to one of his identities, thanks to my line of questioning earlier.
Then I remembered the knife at my back.
It was still there, still pressing into my spine. Either Starke had forgotten about it, or he didn't believe it was a real threat.
Bad mistake.
But his aura was still surrounding me and I wasn't entirely sure I could summon the strength to fight it long enough to even move my hand…
Then, like sunshine breaking through a storm, the strength was there. It wasn't mine, but I grabbed it nonetheless, thrusting a hand backwards, wrapping my fingers around the hilt, drawing it free.
Starke didn't notice the movement. He was too busy sucking me dry.
I shifted slightly. Then, as the realization that I was no longer under the influence of his aura hit him, I plunged the knife into his back.
Blue fire exploded from the blade and spread out like little bolts of lightning across his skin. Starke screamed and arched backwards, his skin bubbling and boiling and shifting—becoming something less golden and a whole lot less real.
Then the office door crashed back on its hinges and Kye stood there, a wild mix of lust and anger in his eyes, and a large silver gun in his hands.
He fired before I could move, and Starke's head exploded into a rain of flesh and bone and god knows what else.
As Starke's body fell to the floor, Kye's gaze met mine. His breathing was harsh—as harsh as mine still was—and he smelled of sex and lust and hunger.
He'd been the source of that rush of strength, I realized. The link between us had grown strong enough that I'd been able to call on his reserves to bolster my own.
It had also been strong enough that he'd known exactly what was being done to me, and who was doing it.
Strong enough for him to feel every sensation and desire right along with me.
"Kye, now is not—" I said.
"There is no better time," he cut in ruthlessly. "No one takes what is mine. No one."
I'll never be yours, I wanted to say, but the words died in my throat as the force of his need hit.
That need was as much about control as it was desire.
He kicked the door shut and strode over to me. Then his fingers were tangling themselves in my hair and his lips crushed mine, kissing me savagely as my hands found their way to the waist of his jeans, undoing the button and zip before thrusting them down his hips.
Then he was in me, claiming me, and it felt glorious. Because this was real and solid, a meeting of flesh and soul—even if the man now claiming me was as unwanted as Starke had been.
He fucked me more fully and more savagely than Starke had, and it felt so damn right tears stung my eyes. I came seconds before him, my body shuddering and twisting as his body spasmed and the hot flush of his seed flooded into me.
Then there was nothing but utter exhaustion.
He rested his forehead against mine, his fingers still locked in my hair and his harsh breathing searing my lips. Slowly, surely, my breath and my thoughts steadied, and I found the strength to ask, "Why aren't Starke's men battering down the door after that gunshot?"
He finally released his grip on my hair, sliding them down to my hips instead, holding me firmly against him. The wolf wasn't finished with me yet, apparently. But then, I'd learned last night he had an amazing recovery rate and a huge sexual appetite. And while I might not want him in my life, he was still my soul mate, and I couldn't deny just how good it felt to be locked against him like this.
"Because I told them the Directorate was on the way, and if they valued their lives, they'd get the hell out of here."
I raised an eyebrow. "And they believed you?"
"Why wouldn't they?" He began to rock gently, his body continuing to harden inside of mine. Part of me wanted to slap him away, and part of me wanted to use every inch of him to erase every second of my time with Starke. "You were already here and, for all they knew, it could have been the first part of a plan."
It made sense, and yet…
I don't what it was, but something niggled. Intuition didn't believe him, and I couldn't ignore it.
"But that makes no sense." I paused, my breath catching in my throat, as his cock—once again hard—slid so very deep inside, sending a wave of pleasure rolling across my body. I licked my lips, and somehow said, "As far as they're concerned, you could be just another crackpot trying to cause mischief."
"They thought I was an angry husband." His words were distracted. "I had to use some excuse to get upstairs and plant the bugs."
Again, that was plausible, and yet my antenna twitched. "Why would Starke let you up there and yet meet me downstairs?"
"He didn't. I bribed the barman and several security guards to give me five minutes."
My mind was having a hard time concentrating against the delicious assault on my body. And yet I couldn't quite let the questions go. That would be giving in totally to the needs of my body and I'd done enough of that for one day.
"You shouldn't have killed Starke. We needed to question him about his partner—"
The words died as his lips crushed mine, ending all attempts on my part to continue the conversation.
I conceded defeat and closed my eyes, enjoying his caresses and kisses, until the slow burn of desire exploded and we came once again.
He kissed me a final time, soft and lingering, then said, "He needed to die for what he was doing."
"Kye, he was only fucking me. In the larger scheme of things, that really didn't matter."
Anger spurted, spinning around me, a firestorm that would not be tamed. "He wasn't just fucking you," he said, his golden eyes flashing. "He was taking what was mine, and he was draining you."
"I was dealing with it—"
"Yeah," he exploded. "I felt how you were dealing with it. Believe me, I wasn't impressed."
"He didn't end up with a knife in his back through magic," I retorted, and thrust a hand against his chest, trying to push him away from me.
He tightened his grip on my thighs and didn't budge. "I warned him," he growled. "I told him not to—"