The next week shot by, filled to the brim with investigations on all fronts.
But whenever he thought of the weekend ahead, time slowed to a crawl. Finally he headed to the airport straight from the office.
He went through airport security as Josiah Mason, but then he boarded a different flight under a separate identity. All he took was a weekend carry-on. As the plane took off, he felt like an arrow shooting through the air.
When he landed, he got a text from Molly with the address of where she was staying. Do you want to come here or meet somewhere?
Stay put, he replied. I’ll come to you. We’ve landed. See you soon.
Okay. Have you eaten supper?
He paused, breathing quietly. There she was, thinking of him again. It was like she had reached out across the distance to touch his cheek. No.
Do you like pasta?
I like everything, he told her truthfully. He’d gone through too many tough times to be picky about food.
I’ll put something together.
The plane taxied to the gate and he disembarked, threading through the holiday-weekend crowd at the airport while automatically checking his surroundings. It was unlikely that anybody was monitoring his weekend plans and even more unlikely that he’d been followed.
And yet.
And yet he took three taxis in quick succession to random, busy places in the city before he finally allowed himself to go to the address Molly had given him. In his last taxi, he checked the traffic as the city lights flashed past his window.
The taxi pulled up in front of a tiny Creole-style cottage in a quiet neighborhood. It was painted bright colors, the small yard draped in foliage. Through the lush greenery, he could see Molly’s slender form through open french windows as she moved around inside.
He felt like he was on fire as he strode through the open picket gate and up the path.
She might not welcome what he brought. Hold back, he said to himself. Hold on.
He knocked on the door, and a moment later she opened it. She was… He lost his breath. She was vibrant. Wearing new, colorful clothes, wearing makeup, bangles, and radiating health and feminine Power. The scent of something delicious hung in the air. Behind her, he saw a bistro-style table set for dinner.
She gave him a small smile. “Did you miss the shit out of me?”
He dropped his bag and reached for her with both hands. Cupping her face, he kissed her fiercely. Making a muffled noise, she kissed him back just as fiercely.
Insanity set in. He pushed her back against the wall and plunged as deep as he could into her mouth while she wound her arms around his neck and arched against him. He couldn’t get enough of her mouth, her body. He ran greedy hands down her curved form. Was the door shut?
He checked. It wasn’t, and he kicked it.
“The pasta’s going to boil over,” she gasped.
“I don’t care,” he growled. Wait. Maybe he should.
Pulling away, she spun around a corner. He followed her into a miniscule kitchen, watched her turn off the small, apartment-sized stove, and then snatched her close again.
They had made love once. Once. And there were so many things he needed to do to her. Crouching, he ran his hands up her fabulous legs, underneath the gauzy skirt. Her breathing sawed unsteadily in the peaceful place. She staggered backward to lean against the cabinet while she ran her fingers through his hair.
She wore a pair of the panties he had bought for her, simple and white. He knotted both fists in the material and yanked it down.
“Say no if you need to,” he said. “Say it now.”
“God, no!” she exclaimed. Then, when he reared back his head, her face flooded with sensual laughter. “I meant I’m saying no to no… Damn it, yes.”
That was all he needed. The waistband of her skirt was elastic. He yanked that down too. Her body was beautifully made everywhere, the bone structure graceful and flowing. He rubbed his face in the tuft of tawny hair at the juncture between her thighs, inhaling her unique, feminine scent before exploring her with gentle, greedy fingers.
The breath left her hard, and the silken wetness of arousal coated his fingers. Wordlessly, he urged her to drape a leg across one of his shoulders. When she complied, it opened her up to him, and it was everything he had wanted over the past ten days, everything he had thought about.
She cried out when he put his mouth on her and licked along the tender, soft petals of her intimate flesh with careful urgency. Locating her clitoris, he suckled, teased, and stroked while inserting a finger into her tight sheath. He was ravenous for every inch of her, for every response.
“Josiah!”
<Reason number one why you should get over your phobia about telepathy,> he said in her head. <I can do this to you while I also tell you how delicious you taste. You’re gorgeous, unbelievably sexy, and you feel like silk. I can’t wait to get inside you.>
“Then do it,” she growled, yanking at his hair. “Get up here!”
<Not until you come,> he purred.
She swore, and he laughed and licked her harder until she hung over him and the slender muscles of her inner thighs trembled.
“It’s too intense,” she moaned. “I can’t take it.”
<You’ll take it, milaya,> he told her. <I’m not going anywhere. I can keep this up all night. Same rhythm, same pressure. All night long. Open up, lean into it. This—and this—and this—until you come.>
As he talked, he inserted another finger, stretching her gently and then fucking her with his hand to the same rhythm of his words.
“I can’t do it,” she whispered unsteadily. “I-I’ve got to lie down.”
As she spoke, she listed to one side, then caught herself with a jerk.
Bed. What an excellent idea. He stood and swept her into his arms. “Where?”
She pointed to an open doorway. As he strode into a shadowed, simple bedroom with a double bed and two nightstands, a waft of fresh air blew in from the open french windows in the living room.
A lifetime of habit proved impossible to shake. Kneeling on the mattress, he eased her down onto it. “I’ll be right back.”
She nodded. The dark sparkle of her gaze followed him as he walked out. In the living room, he turned on a wall air conditioner and moved to secure the windows and pull the blinds into place. Then, unable to leave it at that, he cast quick spells over the windows and the door, enough to sound an alert if they were disturbed.
When he strode back into the bedroom, he found her sitting up in bed, arms wrapped around her knees. After a slight pause, he yanked off his tie, stripped off his suit jacket, and sat beside her.
“I’ve missed your protection spells.”
He absorbed that. “Not the basement though, eh?”
“No, not the basement.” She rested her cheek on one knee, her face angled toward him.
In the space of time it had taken him to secure the cottage, something critical had changed. He thought to ask what was wrong, but it seemed too heavy-handed in the delicate atmosphere. Instead, he stroked her back, waiting.
“I needed to see you,” he said in a quiet voice. “I didn’t welcome it, but I needed it.”
“Same here,” she whispered.
She hadn’t said no, or that she had changed her mind, so he stripped off his shirt, removed his socks and shoes, and stretched out on the bed. It felt as if he was putting down something he had been carrying for a very long time, and he let out a long sigh.
Playing the tips of his fingers down her spine, he said, “Or, if you want me to, I can go.”
She shook her head, and a lock of her hair fell over her eyes. “No, I want you to stay. I have something I need to tell you, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
He raised his head off the pillow to squint at her. “That sounds tricky.”
She bit her lip. “I should have kept my mouth shut. But I just want a weekend. Just one weekend with you, without drama or stress. Can we have that? Can we agree to talk before you go home on Monday?”
He thought about it. His body felt as unruly as a plunging bronco. He ached to find release with her, but…
She wouldn’t need to tell him something so badly if it wasn’t critically important.
And she wouldn’t want to put off having the conversation if she didn’t dread what might come next.
“No,” he said.
* * *
His voice was soft but implacable.
She buried her face in her knees, longing to return to the simple, urgent passion they had shared just moments ago. She had meant to wait, to steal the time with him and let her weather vane spin in the wind all weekend. And then she would go whichever way it pointed before he left.
But apparently she wasn’t a secret baby kind of girl.
He pulled the curtain of hair back from her face. Even more softly, he asked, “Is what you have to say so terrible?”
“That depends on you.”
She drew away from his touch, crawled off the bed, and went back to the kitchen to pull her skirt back on. Then she picked up her panties. Oh, why the hell bother? She dropped them on a chair.
He had followed her silently, moving like a panther. When she turned back, she confronted the sight of him bare-chested, shirtless, and shoeless. The beauty of his body made her mouth go dry. She swallowed hard.
Crossing his arms, he leaned against the doorway of the bedroom. “I can wait all night if I have to, milaya.”
Her hands shook. This was so much harder than she had imagined—and she had a vivid imagination. “Do you remember what happened after Austin attacked me?”
His amber gaze narrowed. “Of course I do. Every damn minute of it.”
“Sunday was hard. Rough morning. Rough day.” She couldn’t watch his expression and let her gaze wander elsewhere.
His big body was out of focus. She tracked him out of her side vision as he came across the room and put his hands on her shoulders. He said quietly, “I went through it with you. Nobody knows that more than I do.”
That was enough of an opening to allow her to give him a direct look. “I didn’t take my pill that morning.”
His eyes dilated, a fast, involuntary reaction. “And the condom broke the next day.”
She nodded.
“Milaya.” His expression, his eyes, his Power blazed.
Before something unbearable happened, she clapped both hands over his mouth. “Listen to me. Just listen. I’ve got the advantage here—I’ve had a little while to absorb the news.” Her eyes flooded with moisture. “And I want this, maybe more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. And I’m okay with it. And I wish… Oh, there’s no point in talking about what I wish. But I’m going to do everything in my power to keep danger away from this little one. She—or he—is going to be brought up with all the love and happiness and safety and security I can provide. So I think it’s best if you and I don’t see each other again after this weekend, because we both know what your life is about.”
He pulled her hands away from his mouth and bit out, “You can’t do this on your own!”
“Watch me.” It was harder than ever to meet the dark fire burning so furiously in him, but she did. “I’m on my way to find a teacher. I’m going to build a good life, and I’m going to be so damn happy it will make malcontents nauseated to look at me. I’m excited about my future. And… and you would be so welcome to be a part of this baby’s life if you ever chose a different path than the one you’re on right now. But the way you live—you’re consumed with revenge. I don’t know, maybe that’s why you want power and why you want to become Georgia’s next governor. This mysterious, terrible person who hurt you so badly all those years ago has eaten you up inside, and I’m not judging, Josiah. I’m really not. You get to be whoever you need to be. But you can’t live that life you’ve chosen and bring it here to me. Not after this weekend.”
“Goddamn it,” he bit out. “Don’t you think I fucking realize that?”
“Okay then,” she whispered. Her gut hurt, and she realized she had clenched everything up in anticipation of an emotional blow, so she tried to relax her muscles and take a breath.
He strode into the bedroom. When he came back out, he had pulled on his shirt and shoes, and he carried his jacket in one clenched fist. His expression was severe, mouth clamped tight.
On his way to the door, he snatched up his carry-on. He said tersely over his shoulder, “I need some air.”
She pressed the fingers of one hand against her mouth as she watched him go. That had gone every bit as badly as she’d been afraid it would.
But then, just before he stepped out, he paused, head turned to one side as if he could hear her silent anguish. Hell, he probably could. Her energy was crazy, all over the place.
In a more measured tone, he told her, “I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Sure, if you can,” she said jerkily. “I would really like that.”
He nodded. Then he stalked out.
Silence settled in the little cottage. The hurricane had passed, leaving devastation in its wake.
Four-seven-eight.
Four-seven-eight.
At last her internal earthquake subsided. When she felt calmer, she went to see what could be done with the half-prepared supper. The pasta had congealed, so she drained off the water and threw the clump in the trash. And the sauce looked tired and brown around the edges.
“I know how you feel,” she said to it. She threw that out too. There wasn’t a dishwasher in the rental, so she washed everything up by hand. She had bought Josiah a bottle of wine, and she set it aside on the counter.
When the little place was sparkling clean, she went to take a shower, washed off her makeup, and put on the black nightie. After the buildup and anticipation and then the raw intensity, the world felt flat and colorless.
It was too early to go to bed, and she was too tired to go out. Plus she should eat something.
She had made a beautiful green salad topped with delicately fried squash blossoms. Dumping some into a bowl, she went into the living room to slouch on the couch and channel surf while she ate pieces of the salad with her fingers like popcorn.
A quiet knock sounded at the door. Her heart thumped. Setting the bowl and TV remote aside, she went to look out the closed french windows.
Josiah stood on the doorstep, his white dress shirt stark against the yellow outside light. He had rolled the sleeves up. His bag sat at his feet with his suit jacket and tie draped across it. He turned and saw her looking at him. Said nothing. Just waited, watching her.
She went to open the door. His brooding gaze raked down her figure clad in the short black nightie and robe. “I shouldn’t have walked out.”
“Don’t be stupid.” She stepped out of the way. “Given the circumstances, I think you were remarkably restrained. But I hope you’re not back to fight, because I’m too tired to oblige tonight.”
“I’m not back to fight.” He met her gaze with a level look, then strode inside.
She watched him take in the bowl of salad on the couch, the muted television screen, and remote. “There’s more salad in the fridge. And the wine on the counter is for you. And there’s cheese and bread, and some beignets from Café Du Monde in the pastry box. Help yourself to whatever.”
“Thank you.” He looked down at her bare toes with their dark blue-painted nails. She wore a little sterling silver ring on the middle toe of her right foot. “Mind if I take a shower?”
“Knock yourself out.” The wall air-conditioning unit was overpowering the little space, but she didn’t want to turn it off and let the muggy warmth back in, so she went into the bedroom to grab a blanket and curl back up on the couch.
Nature channel. Reality TV show. A sitcom. The news. She chewed salad and flipped through channels, not really paying attention. Most of her focus was on what Josiah was doing. The shower ran for a while, then switched off. Shortly after, he came out wearing black shorts that showed off the sinewy strength of his muscled legs and a T-shirt that strained across his wide chest and biceps.
Damn, was there anything about him that wasn’t sexy? What he had done to her with that firm, stern-looking mouth… She closed her eyes as her body pulsed.
She would be so lost over him if he had chosen a different life than the one he was living—any kind of different life—so, in a way, she should probably be grateful that he kept everything so crystal clear for her.
After some silence, he asked, “Is that all you’re eating?”
She lifted one hand in an indifferent shrug.
He approached to bend over and stick his face between hers and the TV screen. Their gazes collided. His soft, even voice was at odds with the volcanic force in his eyes. “Would you like a grilled cheese sandwich if I made one for you?”
Silently, she nodded. She watched as he went into the kitchen and found everything he needed. He knew his way around a kitchen, his movements purposeful and economical. His expression gave away nothing of what he was thinking.
When he returned, he carried a plate piled with grilled cheese sandwiches, another bowl of salad, and a glass of wine. She scooted over to make room, and then they sat and watched the news while they ate.
Once she took her first bite of sandwich, her appetite roared in and she ravenously ate the rest. He took away the plates and bowls, poured himself more wine, and when he came back to the couch, he put an arm around her and propped his feet up on the coffee table.
She held very still, but the warmth of his body was too much to resist. Melting against his hard length, she let her head rest tentatively on his shoulder. He cupped the side of her head and drank wine.
Was this all right? The experience flowed into places she wasn’t sure she wanted it to go. It felt too warm, too good. It felt too right for her to give in to it entirely. She turned her cheek into his shirt and closed her eyes. “Why did you come back?”
“Because I want this weekend with you more than I want to react or fight.” His chest moved in a sigh. He drank more wine and stroked her hair. “Don’t think about it too hard, okay?”
She nodded. Sometime later, she said telepathically, <I still don’t know your real name.>
Just when she thought he wasn’t going to answer, he said, <Alexei.>
Ah. That suited him. She smoothed the T-shirt over his chest. <I’m glad you came back.>
He kissed her forehead. <I am too, milaya.>
Toothy leviathans swam underneath the calm, peaceful surface they created, but if he could restrain himself from poking them, she could too. Gradually the tension eased out of her body and she dozed. She only woke when he turned off the television and picked her up to carry her into the bedroom.
“I have two perfectly sound legs and feet that work quite well together,” she remarked in a sleep-blurred voice.
“Yes, you do, but I’ve discovered I like carrying you around. Don’t rob me of that enjoyment.”
She clearly heard what he had left unspoken. Don’t rob me of that enjoyment while I can have it.
When he eased her onto the bed, she laid a hand to his cheek and kissed him. He made a sound at the back of his throat, settled the weight of his body on hers, and kissed her with so much passion and hunger it was almost enough to reshape their futures.
Almost enough to reshape everything.
Heat and light exploded between them. It was sex mingled with a gush of Power. His, hers. He swore, a guttural, foreign-sounding word, gripped her hips with both hands, and thrust her legs apart with his.
A fine sweat broke out over her skin. She felt fevered. In that moment she needed him more than she needed anything else. More than air, than light. Than food. How excruciating, dramatic. It was unsustainable. They would burn themselves out on each other.
But they hadn’t burned out yet. She raised herself up on her elbows to lick and nip at his flat male nipples while he fingered her, preparing her for his entrance. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back to plunge down for a searing kiss, his hardened lips slanting over hers while he invaded her with his tongue.
His roaring, sensual drive shook her. She had originally thought he was so cold, so calculating. How could she have been so mistaken about him?
When he positioned his cock at her entrance and pushed in, she rose to meet him, and the empty ache at her core turned to a sharp spike of pleasure. As he took her, she took him. He conquered her senses, and she gave over control, allowing herself to go boneless and submissive as he spun her around, wrapped an arm around her throat, and fucked her from behind.
She had never felt this way before, so out of her mind with need. The rhythm he built made her crazy, crazy—she had to do something to get at him the way he was getting at her. She reached back for any part of him she could touch, raking her nails along his shoulders, sinking her teeth in feral response into the bunched muscle of his forearm. He felt massive inside her, hardened everywhere, his body clenched on hers in an unbreakable hold.
Then he reached down to touch her between her legs, and she exploded with such force she saw white stars against her closed eyelids. She cried out sharply, bucking underneath him, while he held suspended over her, in her, rubbing, rubbing… Jesus, she thought she would never stop climaxing…
Even as the waves still rippled through her body, he stiffened and swore again, his mouth pressed to the soft skin at the nape of her neck. She felt his thick, hard length pulse inside, and oh my God, she had never climaxed with anyone before. She grabbed his hand and pressed his fingers against her.
He understood immediately and rubbed her harder as his raw breathing sawed in her ear. The second wave hit, clear and piercing. She twisted back against him, straining for that last tantalizing peak, and he buried his face in her hair as he spilled the last of his own pleasure.
Afterward came the mental and physical collapse. She couldn’t talk even if she wanted to. Apparently he felt the same. As he pulled her back around to take her in his arms, the heavy muscles of his biceps trembled. She gave in to simple, animal need and burrowed against his larger, heavier frame, her head resting on his shoulder, one leg hiked up to drape over his hips. He tangled his fingers in her hair, and she plunged asleep.
Only to wake again sometime later as he pushed her onto her back and entered her. She made a sound, a cross between surprise and incoherent delight, and wrapped arms and legs around him, cradling him with her whole body while he fucked her.
He brought her to climax that time too, not quite as sharp and high as the first ones, but a fuller, deeper sensation that rewrote the pathways of her circuitry as she locked everything on him and realized just how much he could give her. How deeper, higher, further they could go.
Nobody had ever—her ex-husband had never… She held such distaste for him she couldn’t tolerate his name in her mind in that moment and let the thought spin away.
The weekend blazed like tissue paper, disappearing in a bright flash of sex, heat, and need. They slept and made love in the shower, on the couch, on the living room floor.
Those times when they needed food, they moved around each other warily, like animals that had been stripped of their protective layers. They avoided talking about anything controversial or difficult—the future, the past—and concentrated on small, domestic things.
Everything was raw and heightened. When she drained the cooling water off hard-boiled eggs she had cooked and forgotten, he trailed the tips of his fingers along the back of her neck. She dropped the pan into the sink, shaking. That was all that was needed to set him off again.
He lifted her so she sat perched on the sink. She hooked her ankles eagerly around the back of his thick, muscular thighs, taking his cock in both greedy hands, fingering the broad head and stroking along the rigid length until he hissed between his teeth and entered her again in a slow, liquid slide.
By that time she was so sore and sensitized that when her swollen little bud came against the root of his erection, she made a muffled sound and twisted in agonized pleasure. This time he rocked against her gently and took his own pleasure a few moments later in a quiet, liquid gush.
Don’t come, she said to Monday.
But time was the most measured, inexorable force in the universe, and Monday dawned anyway. Lying sleepless beside Alexei she witnessed the day’s arrival alone.
Even at rest, his angular face was hard, but this was the most relaxed she had ever seen him. He had laced his fingers through hers before drifting off, and they still held hands.
I don’t want you to go, she thought as she watched his sleeping profile. But this was never something we meant to sustain. And you can’t stay.
She had known that all along. She had been the one to set the ground rules.
But—oh, what a stupid thing to do—she had gone and fallen in love with him anyway.
* * *
When the time came, he packed his belongings in the carry-on bag. It took less than ten minutes. The pure gold of a hot afternoon shone in the open french windows while Molly sat outside at a patio table, drinking iced herbal tea.
Denial hadn’t worked, so he had gorged on her. He should have worked her out of his system by now. Watching her profile from the shadows of the cottage interior, he thought of everything she had taught him.
She was diametrically opposed to his dutiful, traitorous wife from that long-ago past life.
Molly’s eager excitement at her pregnancy.
The way she reached for him, both giving and receiving physical affection and sexual pleasure. His wife had been the kind to turn her face away even as she presented her cheek for his kiss.
Molly had destroyed his sovereignty of solitude. Laid waste to his cold purpose.
He had loved his sons, and they and their mother had betrayed him, but he had accepted a very long time ago that a portion of the blame must lay on him. If only he had been a better father. If he had just taken a closer involvement in their raising. If he had only known then what he knew now.
But that innocent spark of life that nestled in Molly’s body… It would grow up with her as a role model and mother. It would know her deep, abiding sense of loyalty, decency, and her affection, and he wanted to claim it more badly than he had wanted almost anything else in a very long time.
The only thing he wanted more was Molly herself.
He called for a cab. Setting his carry-on by the open windows, he withdrew an envelope and walked out onto the patio. Turning, she smiled at him.
As he looked at the small, telltale marks he had made on her skin with his teeth and hands, his body flooded with desire again. Maybe he could call in sick and steal another day. But her sunglasses couldn’t hide her exhaustion, and now, more than ever, he needed to avoid deviating from normal behavior.
He handed her the envelope. “There’s five checks in here, all under ten thousand. Movement of anything over ten grand gets an automatic report sent to the IRS, so be sure to deposit them one at a time.”
“Thank you so much,” she said as she took it. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”
“It’s not a loan anymore, Molly.” When objection flashed across her features, he went down on his haunches in front of her and said harshly, “I will support the mother of my child, and I don’t want to hear any arguments about it.”
Her expression closed. “Money will be one more thing that ties us together.”
He cupped her hands in his. “You’ve trusted me this far. Trust me a little further. I will keep you both safe.” Safe from me and the life I lead. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a yellow taxi approach. Huskily, he told her, “This isn’t goodbye.”
Her tight mouth softened. “Oh Josiah, it is.” She smoothed the hair back off his forehead, her fingers gentle against his skin. “I don’t want to see you again.”
Her lie shrieked at him. He pressed her hands to his mouth. “You do.”
She gripped his fingers so tight it cut off the circulation. “Yes, I do. But as long as you’re living the life you live, I won’t. You and I are not a couple. We had an affair—we haven’t even dated. We’re not together, and I’m not waiting for you. This baby and I deserve someone who will always put us first.”
The ferocity in that rocked him back on his heels.
Just as fiercely, he growled, “This isn’t goodbye. But there are several other people involved, along with those who have already been killed, and remember, careful investigations take time. I have to finish what I started for everybody’s sake—including this new young life you carry—and then I will find you.”
“Am I supposed to believe you’ll walk away from your plans for building power, just like that? Well, I don’t. You’ve had a long damn time to become who and what you are, and people don’t change on a dime even if they might want to.” She yanked her hands out of his. “Your taxi is here. Just go, will you?”
Fucking hell. He lunged forward and kissed her with all the wild hunger raging inside. It rocked her back in her chair. When he pulled back, he said through gritted teeth, “See a doctor, milaya. Let me know how you’re doing.”
Looking devastated, she nodded and whispered telepathically, <Goodbye, Alexei.>
If she had stabbed him in the heart, she couldn’t have dealt a more effective wound. Blindly raging, he grabbed his carry-on and stalked away.
This baby and I deserve someone who will always put us first.
They did. Goddamn it, they did.
And he could not walk away from his coven, not after the decades they had put into their mission. He could not simply walk away from what he had started.
As he waited to board his flight, he texted his coven. We have got to do whatever it takes to finish this.