Run, Cyan, run!
Something wrong with her feet. Lead. Can’t lift them. Can’t run. Moving too damned slow.
McCrae screamed at her from up ahead. Move it, Cyan! She watched his strong back, the knotted biceps of his arms as they worked through the field of… Tall green stalks of something. Bamboo? Cutting her face as she tried to run. Slicing her. Green, razor-sharp talons that reached out to grab her.
Where were they going? What was happening?
McCrae?
She lost him. Too far ahead. Gone.
Stood still.
Silence.
Left her?
An abrupt and powerful rustling of plants exploded to her left. She screamed. Didn’t she? Her mouth wouldn’t move. No sound. Her feet planted. Just like the thicket of tall stalks.
Planted. Not moving. If she stood still, perhaps they would move on by her.
Not see her.
Leave her behind.
Not to be. A curtain of leaves opened up, a large machete leading the way. She saw the blade on the knife first, as it cut through the shoots.
“McCrae!”
No use trying to be quiet, hoping they would pass her by. They were here.
Three men moved out of the stalks.
Large men. Hoods on their heads. Caucasian. Like her. She knew that because she could see their hands. Like her father’s. They had hands like her father.
White men. Like her.
She’d never seen white men before—except for her father.
God. Not good.
Several scenarios raced through her head. None of them pleasant. But no time to think…no time to move…scream…no time to….
Someone grabbed her from behind. Forced her to the ground.
Fumbled with her pants. Tugged them off. She fought. Screamed. Grabbed the hood from his head.
“McCrae!” she screamed. Where the fuck was he?
The machete came down centimeters from her neck, pierced the ground beside her. Silenced her.
The hood was off. The man chuckled and glared into her face. She got a good look at his eyes. Blue. Like hers.
It was the last thing she saw before she felt him plunge….
****
The scream woke him. Her bolt off the bed scared the hell out of him. In a split-second, Devin assessed the room. Just the two of them. And before he could come to his senses, he’d flipped himself off the bed and had tackled her back to the mattress. She was out of control. Had to rein her in. Keep her from making a lot of noise.
She was the only danger tonight. To him. To them.
It was her soft sobs that undid him, as she lay gasping for air beneath him.
“Dammit, Cyan. What is it?”
The small shaft of light from the bathroom brushed across her face, illuminating a trail of tears.
He didn’t want to be tender. Didn’t need to be tender. But every muscle in his body screamed for compassion, caring, and yes, tenderness.
Unlike him. Didn’t need that now. Not now.
Tenderness would throw him off his edge. He needed his edge.
“Dream,” she said finally, looking up into his face. “Vision.”
He nodded. Understood.
“Not good. Need to think about it.”
He nodded and gently smeared away a tear-track. “I’m sorry. But good. Info we need. Things to avoid. Or be prepared for.”
She nodded, not breaking the connection with his gaze. “I couldn’t find you. You left me.”
He shook his head. Impossible. “Impossible. I won’t do that, Cyan. I’ll never leave you behind. I promise.” I promised your father.
Her chin jutted out slightly. “You did. You will.”
Dammit. Her psychic abilities could be both a blessing and a curse. “I’ll try my damnedest not to, Cyan.”
Nodding, she returned softly, “I know. I think.”
I think. The trust wasn’t totally there yet. He couldn’t blame her.
Twisting his body slightly, he pulled her toward him and cradled her in his arms. She started to protest but he held fast. Finally, after a moment, she relaxed against him. And for the first time in a month, he really felt like he was protecting her.
“I won’t leave you,” he whispered into her hair. “I promise.”
****
They exited the hotel from a back window an hour before daylight. Devin silently pushed the old Harley around the motel and toward the two-lane as Cyan followed. She was better this morning. He was relieved. She’d stepped out of the bathroom with her long bronze hair tied back into a ponytail and her brown contacts in place. Glad for that. Her sea-blue eyes were a dead giveaway. He’d never seen eyes like hers before in his life. Never. At times, the blue picked up the turquoise hue of her necklace. He had to admit, they fascinated him.
But today he was thankful for her specially made contacts, the ones that turned her sea-blue eyes into a deep chocolate brown. One less thing for him to worry about.
Harder for anyone to detect.
She was stunning. Even with all the running, the stress, the lack of any number of amenities. Tall, willowy, but thick in the right places. Fair complexion…oh, so different from his. His gut tightened and his brain took him back to a few hours earlier, when he held her close, inhaled her scent, palmed her soft skin. How vulnerable she had felt in his arms. How so badly he wanted to protect. Felt so male.
Alpha. Devin shook it off.
No good for either of them to let his thoughts meander further.
No time for that. No way. Not his mission.
Not in his plan. After losing his wife, emotional attachment to another woman was not part of his plan.
Glancing back, he caught her gaze in the morning sunrise. She was close. Never too far away. Hadn’t taken her eyes off him. That fact at least told him that she trusted him to some degree. He just wasn’t quite sure how far. She didn’t want to be alone, however—of that, he was certain. Or maybe she was just scared out of her wits. Even a murderer she trusted slightly was better than the ones out there pursuing her.
“I think we’re okay now. Let’s get out of here.”
They’d walked about a quarter mile down the road. No traffic at this hour.
Devin liked two-lane back roads, small towns, rednecks, and homegrown locals. That’s where he was comfortable. That’s where he could get the help he needed. That’s who he was. So they would travel this way as far as it took, as long as it took them to Betatakin. He knew it would take longer but it was safer.
That was the name of the game.
Cyan donned her helmet and pushed her ponytail up underneath.
It took only seconds for him to hot-wire the bike again, make sure Cyan was snug next to his back, and kick the engine into high gear. Soon they were winging their way west, and he was loving the feeling of her thighs straddling his ass, her breasts pushed into his back, her arms tightly gripping his abdomen.
His cock hot, hard and thrumming.
He could ride like this for days.