Obsidian Prey

Chapter 14

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER HE GOT INTO THE ELEVATOR and rode it to the fourth floor. The gunmen had been taken away in the back of a black-windowed Guild car, but he was still feeling the intense aftereffects that always followed the use of a lot of psi.

He was in control—he was always in control. With a talent like his, it was a necessity. But he knew from previous experience that willpower alone did not protect him from the afterburn. In some primitive part of his brain, he was the hunter returning from a successful kill. And tonight the sensation was a thousand times more charged, because his mate was waiting for him.

Except that Lyra did not yet get that part of things, he thought.

She must have heard him coming down the hall, because the door of the apartment opened just as he reached it. Lyra stood in the little entryway, her eyes dark with anxiety. A white robe and a pair of slippers had replaced the black dinner dress and sexy heels. Her hair was down and a little tousled. Vincent was on her shoulder, looking cheerful as usual. Of the three of them, he was the only one who was unconcerned, Cruz thought. Dust bunnies lived in the moment.

"Are they gone?" Lyra asked, peering out into the hall as though fearful that the thugs had followed him.

"They're gone." He just stood there on the threshold, looking at her, aware that everything inside him had just tightened up another notch. He should not go inside the apartment, not in his present condition. But he had to talk to her. He needed to take the edge off first, though.

"I could use a drink," he said.

"You aren't the only one." She stepped back. "I got out the bottle of Amber Dew."

"Works for me."

When she turned away to walk toward the kitchen, it was all he could do not to reach out and catch hold of her. Everything in him was clamoring to pull her into his arms. He managed to keep his hands off her, but it was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He really should not have come up here. This was a mistake, a really big one.

He closed the door with a sense of doomed finality and followed Lyra. Halfway across the living room area, he dropped his jacket over the back of the reading chair.

Seemingly oblivious of his mood, Lyra went behind the counter and poured a stiff measure into each of the two glasses she had set out. Losing interest, Vincent hopped down from her shoulder and went to investigate the cookie jar.

Lyra lifted the lid off the jar. "Take your choice, pal. You deserve it."

Vincent vibrated with anticipation. He jumped up onto the rim of the jar and surveyed the offerings with the air of a pirate savoring his loot. After a moment of dithering, he seized a cookie and hopped back down onto the counter.

Lyra replaced the lid and picked up her drink. She gulped some down and promptly started to cough.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Cruz asked.

"Oh, yeah, swell." Gasping, she set the glass down with a crack. "Never better. You?"

He loved this about her. She was a real fighter, endowed with enough spirit, guts, and determination to power an army. Nothing got her down for long. No matter what you did to her—lie to her; steal her amber claim; crush her sleazy, ambulance-chasing lawyer with high-powered attorneys; terrify her by plunging her into psychic limbo—she always bounced back. His true mate, for sure.

"Never better," he agreed. He drank some of the Amber Dew.

She leaned forward and braced her elbows on the counter. "Well? Did you learn anything about that pair?"

"The security guys who picked them up ID'd them for me." He lowered himself onto one of the stools. "A couple of rank-and-file ghost hunters who were kicked out of the Guild a while back. They were caught stealing artifacts from an archaeological team they were hired to protect."

Lyra made a face, unimpressed. "That's all you know?"

"They're both still unconscious. When they wake up, they'll be questioned, but I doubt that we'll learn much more. Whoever hired them wouldn't have told them anything other than what was absolutely necessary."

She tipped her head to one side, pondering that. "You're still assuming someone hired them and that they weren't just a couple of street thieves?"

"I'm sure of it."

"What makes you so certain of that?"

"They didn't just wander past your door tonight and happen to notice us getting out of the car. They were waiting for us, Lyra."

"How can you know that?"

He took a breath and exhaled it slowly. "Because any other scenario would be just too much of a coincidence."

"What? Where's the coincidence? Random street crimes happen all the time in the Quarter."

He met her eyes. "Not to me. Not a couple of weeks after I've discovered that one of the amethyst relics we removed from the ruin was stolen from the lab."

"What?"

"And not two weeks after a lab technician was found murdered. And not less than twenty-four hours after three of my people and two Guild men were trapped in that amethyst ruin."

"Hold on here." She held up a hand to stop him. "You're going way too fast for me. There's been a murder? Someone stole one of the amethyst relics? Why didn't you bother to mention any of this before?"

"It's complicated."

"You keep saying that."

He took another sip and lowered the glass. "Probably because it's the truth."

"I didn't hear anything about a murder in the AI lab and, trust me, I've been paying extremely close attention to any and all news of Amber Inc."

"I managed to keep it quiet. Hoped it would buy me a little time."

She shook her head and clicked her tongue against her teeth, making a tut-tutting sound. "So you lost one of the stones already? Nice going, Sweetwater. So much for all that sophisticated security AI was supposed to provide for those priceless archaeological relics."

"Doesn't make us look good, does it? We think the killer escaped into the jungle. Opened his own gate. You know how it is down there. You can't track anyone in the rain forest unless you have his locator frequency."

"I will give you credit for being able to keep the murder and the theft out of the media. Very impressive."

"Thanks."

She frowned. "And now you're telling me that you don't think those five people got caught in that ruin by accident last night?"

"No."

"But what was the point? Why would someone deliberately close that chamber on five people? For heaven's sake, they could have died in there."

"This is where the complications set in," he said.

"I'm listening."

"The really complicated part is that whoever is behind this is doing his or her best to make it look like there's only one obvious suspect in the murder, the theft, and the accident at the ruin."

"Who?"

He waited.

Comprehension finally struck. She straightened abruptly behind the counter, eyes huge with shock.

"Me?" she squeaked.

"Look at it from the point of view of the killer. Everyone knows there's been no luck rezzing those stones in the lab. Everyone thinks that you are the only talent around who can access the energy of those rocks, and everyone is aware that you have refused to cooperate in the research we've tried to conduct on them. Last but not least, everyone knows that you've been waging a one-woman vendetta against me and Amber Inc. That adds up to a lot of motive."

She looked as if she had just been kicked in the stomach.

"That's why you came back," she whispered. "You think I stole that artifact and murdered the technician."

"You know damn well that's not true." Fury and outrage twisted through him. He got up off the stool and circled the counter.

The sudden elevation of tension in the room must have alarmed Vincent. His fur sleeked back. His second set of eyes opened.

"Great," Cruz said. "Now I'm going to have to deal with an irate dust bunny. So much for the Sweetwater luck."

"Do you think I hired those two goons to kill you tonight, as well?" Lyra demanded.

"No." He closed the distance between them. "I came back to protect you."

"Right. You're from Amber Inc., and you're here to help me. And if I believe that, you've got a really nice amber mine treasure map you can sell me."

"I tried to avoid dragging you into this thing, but yesterday when that crew got trapped in the ruin, I knew that was no longer an option. Whoever is trying to set you up to take the fall is going to keep pushing in that direction until I get the point. The only thing I can do now is to make it look as if I've come to the conclusion that you're the most likely suspect."

"So you take me out for dinner?" Her voice rose with outrage. "Try to seduce me? That's supposed to convince the killer that you think I'm guilty?"

"Why not?" he said through his teeth. "It's what I did the first time around when I wanted to get the location of that ruin out of you. Remember?"

"How could I possibly forget? You are a deceitful, ruthless, cold-blooded son of a bitch, Cruz Sweetwater."

"Sometimes. But not tonight. Everything I'm telling you tonight is the truth. Including this."

He pulled her close and kissed her hard, willing her to sense the full force of the hot storm ripping through him, willing her to acknowledge the psychic bond between them, willing her to trust him. She had to trust him now, because her life depended on it.

For the first time in their relationship he held nothing back. There was no longer any reason to bank the fires of his need. He set free the prowling hunger and the aching, haunting, all-consuming desire that he had kept on a mag-steel leash for the past three months.

Heat and energy flared in the atmosphere around them as passion infused their auras. She planted her hands on his shoulders and wrenched her mouth away from his.

"Damn it," she gasped. "I do trust you. I'm pissed as hell, but I trust you. I must be an idiot."

"No," he said. "You feel it, too."

"Feel what?"

"The psychic link between us. It's not going to go away, Lyra. Take my word for it. I'm not going to go away. Not this time."

He trapped her against the counter and kissed her again. She shivered, and then, in the next instant, she came alive in his arms, hotter than ghost light. She kissed him back with a feminine ferocity that took his breath. They fought each other for the embrace. He finally managed to pin her against the counter. Breathing hard, he yanked open the robe. She was wearing a pair of black silk panties and a black silk bra but nothing else. The scent of her body was intoxicating.

He grasped her thighs and wrapped them around his waist. She clung to him, kissing his throat wildly. The delicate charms of her bracelet clashed sweetly, seductively, just as they had in his dreams.

"It's because of what happened earlier," she gasped.

"What are you talking about?" he growled against her breast.

"I've read about it. The aftereffects of adrenaline and violence and using a lot of psi energy. It makes people want to have sex. Something to do with hormones and stuff. Survival instinct."

"Do me a favor and shut up," he said very softly.

"Okay."

He picked her up and carried her around the kitchen counter, heading for the bedroom. He spared a single glance for Vincent. The dust bunny was fully fluffed once more, munching contentedly on his cookie.

Satisfied that he was not going to have to fend off Vincent, he paused just long enough to de-rez the lights. The loft was plunged into shadows drenched with the luminous emerald glow of the ancient quartz wall.

He angled Lyra through the opening in the sliding screens that veiled the bedroom and dropped her lightly on the bed. She lay there, swathed in the pristine white robe, her dark hair tangled around her face, and looked up at him with half-closed eyes. Her cheeks were flushed. Her mouth was soft and full from his kisses.

He got his shirt off with a few quick, impatient motions and sat down on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes. He got rid of the ankle sheath and the knife at the same time and kicked them out of sight under the bed before Lyra could see the weapon. She'd already had enough violence for one night. The last thing he wanted to do now was spoil the mood.

A moment later he was where he had been in his dreams every night since he'd met her: on the bed and on top of Lyra. She twisted sleekly beneath him, warm and vital. Her arms went around his neck. He opened his senses, drugging himself on her scent and her energy.

"You can't know how many times I've thought about how it would be to be here like this with you," he said against her throat.

She speared her fingers through his hair. "You really missed me, Sweetwater?"

"No." He framed her face with his hands. "I was obsessed with you."

She smiled. "I can see where a lawsuit might have that effect on a man."

"I pay lawyers to deal with lawsuits. Believe me, the legal garbage had nothing to do with it. This was all about you."

He kissed her heavily, silencing the possibility of any more teasing.

She raised one knee. The robe fell back, exposing the inside of her thigh. He stripped off the silk panties and slid his palm upward along bare skin until he could feel the dampness of her arousal. Three months ago he had never dared touch her so intimately. He had known that if he went this far, he would not be able to resist the temptation to make her his completely. He had told her the truth earlier. He'd sensed that she might forgive a few kisses, but if he had made love to her under false pretenses there would have been hell to pay.

She drew a sharp, unsteady breath when she felt his hand on her. She was already wet and full. He was damp, too, sweating with the effort required to hold himself in check until she had come for him at least once.

He found the tight little bud of nerve endings above her cleft and worked it gently with his thumb, pushing under and then up until she started to lift herself off the bed.

"Cruz." She clutched at his shoulders.

He hooked two fingers into her and pressed upward again, searching for the sensitive, slightly swollen place just inside.

"You are so hot, so tight," he whispered. "Incredible."

She dug her nails into him. "Now. Do it right now."

He used his thigh to force her legs wider apart.

"Come for me first," he said.

"Damn it, Cruz. Cruz."

Her climax blossomed through her. She shuddered in his arms, one leg wrapped around his hips. She cried out, sounding half-astonished and half-euphoric. The energy of her release soared across his senses, nearly shattering his control. But he held on. This was too important. He had to get this right.

When she had just begun to go limp beneath him, he settled more intimately between her legs. Bracing himself on his elbows, he eased carefully inside her. She shivered, and he knew it was because she was very sensitive now.

"Wait," she whispered. Her hands flattened on his chest. "I think I need a little time here."

"Don't worry," he vowed. "We'll take it slow. We've got all night."

"You don't understand," she gasped. "That has never happened before. Not unless I used a small personal care appliance. But, oh, my, this was different. Really, really different."

He smiled. "In a good way?"

"A very good way." She took a few recovering breaths. "But it was a little over-the-top."

"I'm a Sweetwater. I do over-the-top."

She was laughing when he pushed gently into her, an inch, no more. She stopped laughing. He withdrew just as slowly. He could tell that she was tensed for possible discomfort. He was determined to give her only pleasure.

Gradually she relaxed, trusting him not to hurt her. After a while she began to tighten around him again.

"Cruz?"

She did not cry out his name in passion this time. She sounded startled. Unnerved.

"Don't worry," he said. "I've got you."

When she went taut and desperate beneath him a second time and started to tremble through another climax, he finally released the chains of control that had bound him for what seemed like forever.

He poured himself into her, hard and fast and exultant. His senses were still flung wide, and he knew hers were, too. She bound him tightly to her, her arms and legs snug and possessive around him.

He heard the amethyst charms clashing melodically in the night. A thousand shades of psychic fire burned in the shadows.