Passion's Prey: The Shadow Shifters (6 page)

“Get your shower and get some sleep.”

When he was walking past her to leave the room she stopped him.

“You don’t scare me, Xavier. Your big badass routine doesn’t scare me,” she told him.

As thoughts of what he wanted to do to her played like a movie trailer in his head, X could only sigh. “It should.”

Chapter 7

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID AND I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE. SEE YOU SOON.

X frowned as he read the text message that had just come through on Caprise’s phone. Because it was his nature, he picked up his own cell and punched in the number the text came from. He also emailed it to himself with a note to do a trace first thing in the morning.

The sound of water still running in the shower gave him an extra few minutes. And while X knew it was probably one of the biggest breaches a man could inflict on a woman, he looked through her purse. Among the variety of female things she also had a small handgun and a tube of Mace. As if she knew she needed to protect herself. But from whom? The person who was sending her this text, most likely.

Suddenly he wanted to know who this person was, what he or she was to Caprise, and what she’d done that they knew about. And X wanted to know right now. Putting down both phones, he left the bedroom and entered the bathroom. She hadn’t shut the door all the way, part of her I’m-not-afraid-of-you stance, he figured. So X pushed his way inside.

Through the lightly steamed glass he could see her silhouette. His body tightened. She lathered the soap in her hands then rubbed those hands up and down her arms. Her long nimble fingers scraped up her neck. She held her head back and let her hands cross her shoulders. When they came down to cover her breasts, X’s breath hitched. She was gorgeous, there was no other accurate way to describe her—even though that seemed kind of cliché.

He took a step closer, his fingers moving quickly to undo his pants. Cursing because his boots were still on, X bent quickly to untie them and kick them off. When he stood again she was facing him, her luminescent eyes staring at him through the glass. Slowly he pulled his shirt over his head, pushed his pants down, and stepped out of them.

She stepped under the showerhead then and let the water sluice over her body, rinsing the soap suds away. Knowledge that he was watching her was alive in her gaze, the fact only making X hunger more. Every inch of his body was taut with need, his dick jutting outward as if it were reaching specifically for her.

When she switched off the water X reached for the door handle. He opened it and she stepped out, coming to stand so close her nipples brushed over his chest, his dick slapping against her stomach. His hands went immediately to her neck, his thumbs rubbing along the line of her jaw.

“You’re such a tease,” he whispered.

She touched a still-wet finger to his bottom lip, rubbing along its contoured edge. “And you can’t resist me” was her soft retort.

Her body was a wanton sex machine, just humming with desire. If he put his hands between her legs at this very moment he’d bet everything he owned that her plump folds would be wet and waiting for him. He could lay her on this floor right now and fuck her brains out and she wouldn’t do a thing to stop him.

Yet her eyes, even alight with her feline heritage, said something just a little contradictory. She was studying him, watching everything he did, hearing every word he said with extra-sensitive ears, dissecting this entire situation with a formula only she was familiar with. What did she want from him? Was this all she expected? He hoped so, because it was all he had to give. Questions assailed him as her finger traced his top lip. He extended his tongue to lick the pad of her finger, and she smiled.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into here, Caprise. I’m not who you think I am.”

Her response was to toss her head back and chuckle. He watched long sheets of hair dripping to the floor, flowing behind her. Just as she’d said, he was unable to resist, so X lowered his head and kissed along the exposed line of her neck. When her hands slapped against his shoulders, her long nails scraped along his skin, she whispered in a husky aroused voice, “And you have no idea who I am. That makes us even.”

No, X thought as he pushed her down to the floor so that she was on her knees in front of him, they were not even. She was a well-bred, beautiful woman even if she had denial issues. And he was more dangerous than she knew.

He leaned over her, put his palm to the base of her back, let his fingers trickle down between the crevice of her bottom. He stopped at her anus, felt the tight bud and the persistent jutting of his dick. On a coarse oath, he squelched that thought, figuring she was nowhere near ready for him that way. Using both hands to spread her wider, X thrust his dick inside her ready opening.

Caprise screamed with the stretching of her skin and simultaneously arched her back, pushing back to take even more. This was how she liked it. She wondered how X knew. Soft and slow didn’t work for her, hadn’t in a very long time. Now she craved fast and hard, long deep strokes that she felt throughout her entire body, vicious climaxes that took her breath away. This was what she needed. Especially tonight.

Through the shower door she’d seen him stripping, watching as every inch of his deep brown skin was exposed. That skin was covered with beautiful artwork that she suspected he took time and consideration to select. Every tat would mean something to a man like X, would symbolize some part of his life, some part of the man. After she’d stepped out of the shower the front of his body was even more alluringly visible. Across his chest was a tribal-type tat with its swirling lines coming to a sharp sword-like peak. Lower, on the left side of his abs, was a jaguar, long and sleek, majestic. His biceps sported more tribal insignias that wrapped completely around the width. She’d noticed them specifically because she was into tat work as well. What she hadn’t seen was the emblem of the
Topètenia,
but she knew it was there; somewhere on his body would be that icon, the human marking that her brother and his two friends had gotten as a symbol of their loyalty to the tribe. A symbol of the animalistic part of themselves—the part Caprise continued to deny.

His body was as gorgeous as she’d imagined each time she saw him. Thick, toned muscles, oozing masculinity and power. He was exactly what she thought he was, despite what he said; she knew this man, had known him for years. He was the one of the three who was least expected to be smart and cunning. While Nick and Rome had achieved good grades and headed straight to college, Xavier had graduated with minimal honors and immediately dedicated his time to the US Marines. Upon his completion of those four grueling years of training—as she remembered him explaining to Nick one night—he’d applied to the FBI. Three years in the field and X was elevated to special agent status. That wasn’t the norm, but then again, neither was X. And it was no mistake that Caprise had paid close attention to him, even then.

As he lowered her all the way to the floor, covering her from behind, something primal was unleashed in her, something as natural as breathing as she arched her back and accepted him inside her. She reared back, her head lifting, mouth opening wide as she screamed his name. Against her bottom lip, sharp incisors pricked and her body sizzled with desire.

On the surface it might seem strange that she was here, in this position, with this man she hadn’t seen in years. But she and X had been making their way to this point for a long time now. She wasn’t surprised, nor was she disappointed. He was an excellent lover, and that’s all she needed.

“Your cat is hungry. She’s been asleep for much too long.”

His voice was deep, as deep as his strokes inside her. She didn’t care much for what he’d said but wasn’t in the mood to argue.

“Fuck me!” she ordered instead. If she stayed focused this would go just like before and she would survive again.

Strong hands clasped her hips, holding her while he pounded inside her. She kept her palms flat on the tiled floor, her knees planted firmly, and rotated her bottom to match his strokes. Every brush of his dick made her tremble. There was something on his shaft, she’d felt it when she’d held him in her hands at the club, some sort of barbing or piercing that rubbed along her sensitive skin with precision and pushed her closer and closer to the brink.

Her nails scraped along the tile as her breathing hitched and her breasts slapped together, matching the sounds of their sexes meeting. Their combined scent was heady, and permeated her senses so that when she licked her lips she swore she could taste him; closing her eyes she could see his warrior’s body strong and powerful behind her. He surrounded her, not only because she was in his bathroom but because his aura was that strong, that all-consuming. That was unanticipated.

They reached their climax simultaneously, again. Both of them trembling, taking precious seconds to catch their breaths. Caprise’s heart pounded in her chest, sweat peppering her forehead. She focused on her breathing and growing steady enough to stand and walk away from him. But that wasn’t working out too well.

“Let’s go,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her up.

“I’ve already showered,” she said when she saw that’s where they were headed.

“Yeah, but you need another one now.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” she replied snidely, taking the loofah she’d just used and reaching for the soap as he turned on the water.

Like her, he liked the water hot, almost to the point of pain. There were more than a few things she and X had in common, but Caprise wasn’t about to comment on them. Saying them aloud might allude to something … something she didn’t want to think about.

“You’re too thin” was his next compliment.

She tried not to bristle, really she did, but it just wasn’t in her nature. “You’re just full of nice things to say to me tonight. Is that how you usually treat a woman you’ve had sex with?”

Turning her back to him, she lathered her front and waited for his response.

It didn’t come in the form of words, but his strong hands grabbing her shoulders, turning her to face him.

“You’re not like them” was all he said.

Caprise didn’t take that to mean a good thing, but didn’t reply, either. To keep this line of conversation going would mean she cared what he thought of her, or of what they’d done together. And she definitely did not want that. Caring would make this so much more than it was. So much more than Caprise figured she was ready for. Her get-it-together plan didn’t include falling for a man, especially not for X.

*   *   *

He’d never slept with a woman before, never wanted to. Having sex with them was like a ritual he’d practiced over the years. Whether it was a hard intense session, or a quickie, X always left first and he always returned home to his own bed where he slept alone.

Yet here it was, a little after two in the morning, and he was lying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Beside him Caprise slept with her long, lithe body curled into a fetal position facing him. Her hair was only partially dry, spreading across the pillow like tentacles. She was lovely when she slept—and that was a thought X had never had before. With only his night vision to go on she had a soft glow to her skin; thick eyebrows were arched perfectly, framing alluring eyes even in sleep. Her nose was small, lips pert; she had high cheekbones and a soft jawline.

Something inside X shifted, as if his cat, too, was trying to acclimate itself to this new experience. A thought crossed his mind—he could touch her. Right now, at this moment, as thoughts of her filled his head, he could reach out and touch her cheek, or her arm, or her leg and she would feel him. She’d probably awaken hurling smart-ass words or cursing at him, her eyes sparking with anger. X’s dick hardened at the thought.

Her anger, as well as her angelic sleeping trance, intrigued him, touched him on some level that was probably foreign to them both.

With a grunt, X abruptly turned his head so that he couldn’t look at her. He remembered the text he’d seen on her phone and the fact that he’d been so distracted he’d forgotten to ask her about it.

More predominantly, X remembered … he remembered everything about his life. Every moment that made him the man he was. And he cursed because that man could never reach out and touch a woman like Caprise, or any woman for that matter. He could never afford to simply lie and watch her sleep, to even dream about a life with her.

It simply wasn’t possible with a man like him.

Chapter 8

A man like Xavier Santos-Markland should never have been allowed into the Bureau.

He was a liar and a fraud and now, Special Agent Dorian Wilson had reason to believe, a murderer. As a professional courtesy he’d tried calling Markland a couple of times yesterday and last night. Dorian figured he’d set up a meeting, toss out a few questions, and get a feel for where Makland’s head was. But he’d never reached him; voicemail picked up every time. If he was a guilty man, that was probably on purpose; if he was innocent … well, Dorian wasn’t really considering that.

Admittedly the evidence he had against Markland was circumstantial. Still, his gut told him whatever had happened to Diamond Turner was connected to Markland. It was also likely connected to the murder of Senator Baines and his daughter months ago, and those two prostitutes. In addition to these brutal killings, there had been half a dozen other deaths in the last three weeks involving an unknown drug. The DEA wanted to know if Roman Reynolds was somehow linked to the development and distribution of this killer substance. After their initial investigation into Reynolds’s law firm they’d found nothing connecting him directly to any cartel in Brazil. But there was definitely a lot of movement coming out of South America. One cartel they were specifically watching was Cortez, even though informants couldn’t pin this new drug to that long-running drug empire. It had to be Reynolds, and Markland was one of Reynolds’s most trusted confidants.

Some would say Dorian was obsessed. He wouldn’t quite take it that far. So what, he’d had this growing file on Roman Reynolds and the law firm he owned, Reynolds & Delgado, for almost three years now. It didn’t matter that he’d made a point to get a copy of the Metropolitan Police Department’s file on every murder that had occurred in the city in the last twenty-four months. Hell, it was a stroke of luck that his sister was married to a lieutenant in the homicide division or that wouldn’t have even been possible. And just because he worked for the Drug Enforcement Agency didn’t mean he couldn’t also investigate a murder, especially if that murder may very well be connected to a homegrown drug cartel. But none of that meant he was obsessed. Just really, really interested in what Reynolds and his crew were doing.