Too Hot to Touch Page 27

  Until finally, Creed collapsed on top of her, sweating, his body heaving for breath. Limp with exhaustion, he managed to pull them both to their sides while remaining locked inside her.

  Not that he had a choice, she realized distantly. He was literally locked inside her, the animalistic feline barb continuing to throb and jerk at intervals, drawing shattered cries from her lips.

  Long, long minutes later, it finally began to ease, and at last, after what felt like eons, the searing little pulses of the extension stopped, allowing her body to settle into a satiation she knew couldn’t be entirely natural.

  Physically, emotionally, for the first time in her life, Kita felt at peace.

  •CHAPTER 9•

  How much time had passed, Creed wasn’t certain. His first indication of danger, though, was the hollow vibration of the small satellite flip phone he carried in the front pocket of his jeans.

  He was moving immediately. Pulling himself from his exhausted mate, he jerked his jeans to his hips and gave a quick jerk to the zipper before quickly wrapping the blanket over Kita’s body. Her eyes jerked open in surprise.

  “Creed?”

  There was fear in her eyes; he saw it. But after that first shocked exclamation of his name, she was moving. Even before he could help her from the chaise, she was on her feet and rather than asking questions, following him quickly into the house.

  “We have trouble,” he growled as he pulled her into the bedroom. “Hurry and dress. Jeans and sneakers.” He was throwing jeans, a T-shirt, and a warm sweater from the closet as she pulled panties and socks from a dresser.

  She didn’t bother searching for a bra, he noticed. It wasn’t required to survive.

  She was dressed as he finished locating the small black leather weapons bag he had hidden in the back of her closet. Jerking it open, he quickly strapped on a handgun at his side and ankle, then within seconds had the powerful automatic rifle he carried with him, assembled and ready to fire.

  Who the hell thought they could sneak up on him like this? In broad daylight?

  It was either a moron or a man or Breed who thought he was better, smarter, and brighter than a lion Breed covert enforcer.

  There was no mistaking the alarm still vibrating at his waist, though, a clear indication that someone was coming into the rear of the property Kita owned.

  Another enforcer would have recognized the signs as well as the electronic traps laid and announced his presence. Jonas already suspected Kita was Creed’s mate; he’d surely know better than to try such a stunt. Especially on Creed.

  After pulling on a lightweight advanced-design jacket, Creed grabbed the extra one he carried with him and threw it to Kita with an order to put it on. He then slung the heavy leather pack of ammo over his back and the strap of the weapon over his shoulder.

  Taking her hand as she jerked the jacket on, he was moving through the house toward the front door, his senses on alert, screaming in warning.

  Behind him, he could sense Kita’s fear, but overlaying it was the scent of her determination and her trust.

  “Who knew you were here?” It was a question he should have asked days ago, damn it.

  “No one. I just ran. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going.”

  Moving quickly through the silent kitchen, he threw open the door to the garage and pulled her inside. The motorcycle was their best bet, not as protected as a vehicle, but . . .

  He came to a hard stop.

  They were there. Their scents were neutralized, blocked, expressions hard, eyes flat and filled with danger. And standing behind them was the specter of death that had haunted the Breeds for as long as they could remember.

  “Uncle Phillip?” Uncertainty and rising fear filled Kita’s voice as she stared at the much, much younger version of the uncle she had known.

  Damn! Creed stared at the man, hiding his shock as he assessed how many decades the age regression had taken from Phillip Brandenmore. He looked as fit, as formidable as he had in his early forties, his face once again dark and roughly handsome, his brown eyes free of the dimness age had brought.

  His dark brown hair was once again thick and sporting only a bit of gray at the temples, while his shoulders were broad, his chest muscular. As though his body hadn’t forgotten its former shape, strength, and power, and had easily returned to it.

  Kita moved to slip to his side before Creed tightened his fingers on her wrist in warning.

  She stilled just that fast.

  He could smell her fear, though, as well as her uncertainty.

  Phillip Brandenmore smiled. Perfect, straight white teeth had replaced the aged, darkened ones Creed remembered from his last visit to Sanctuary, just after Brandenmore had been captured.

  The shock Kita was feeling scented the air as Creed kept a careful eye on the men flanking Brandenmore and the weapons trained on Kita and himself. He paid especially close attention to the woman on his far right, knowing when he killed her, there would be hell to pay.

  “Creed Raines, lion Breed enforcer,” Brandenmore drawled as he moved in line with the mercenaries that had obviously broken him out of Sanctuary’s cells. “Breed, you have balls to think you can kidnap my niece, fuck her, and not pay for it. She’s too damned good for the likes of a fucking animal.” His gaze flicked to Kita, and for a second, the smallest second, Creed could have sworn something painful, something filled with regret flickered in Brandenmore’s eyes.

  Could he get to his weapon in time? Could he throw Kita to the side and actually do any damage before they managed to hurt her?

  His gaze went over the men once more. He shouldn’t have felt disbelief at seeing them there, but damn if he had expected this. When he stared back at the woman, the commander these men followed, he was almost brought up short again by the small pendant she wore outside her T-shirt.

  His attention returned to Brandenmore.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he growled, his fingers tightening once more on Kita’s wrist to hold her in place.

  “I came for my niece,” he snapped. “Wyatt thinks he’s so damned smart. So damned careful,” he sneered. “I heard him, just as I heard his plans to turn Kita Claire into a fucking breeder for one of his Breeds. A Breed that had managed to gain her trust.”

  Kita stiffened, her harshly indrawn breath attesting to her shock, and he feared, her belief in what Brandenmore was saying or what she was seeing.

  An uncle from the past, not the present. A man who now stared at her with reptilian eyes, a sneer on his lips when his attention turned to Creed.

  A man whose hired guns were pointed in her direction.

  • • •

  Kita couldn’t believe what she was seeing, what was happening around her. He looked like her uncle before she had even been born. This was the man who had stood so proudly in his sister’s wedding pictures, the man who had held his newborn niece, his expression gentle and filled with love.

  Her uncle wasn’t this young, and it wasn’t possible to turn back time, to return to youth no matter how much one might want to.

  “Who are you?” she finally whispered. “You can’t be Uncle Phillip. It’s simply not possible.”

  But it was possible. She stared back at him as an odd smile tugged at his lips.

  There was no warmth or compassion in this man. There was no love, no gentleness as she had always seen in his face when her mother had been alive. There was none of the grief she had seen in his face when his beloved sister had died.

  “Of course it can be,” he said. “I must say, Kita Claire, I never expected this of you.” He waved his hand to Creed as a look of distaste crossed his face. “Sleeping with the enemy, child? And one of a different species? I’m very disappointed.”

  Kita was terrified.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know you.”

  Desperation laced her voice, a plea that someone explain, rationalize, that they assure her this really wasn’t the uncle she once loved so dearly.

>   He clicked his tongue, a mocking sound that raked across her senses and sent fear racing through her.

  “Of course you do, child.” He smiled back at her. “You just don’t want to accept it. I’ve discovered the fountain of youth. The elixir of cures.” Excitement lit his eyes. “I’ve searched for it all my life, Kita. I dreamed of finding it before your mother died. Before the cancer killed her. I could have saved her.” For a moment, fanatical rage lit his eyes. “She could be alive today, young and whole, if I had found it sooner.”

  “It’s destroyed his mind, Kita,” Creed whispered softly.

  “Shut up!” Phillip’s furious scream made her flinch as her breath hitched painfully, fearfully. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. My mind isn’t destroyed. Those Breed doctors are crazy themselves. I’ve tested it before!” Spittle gathered at his lips as Kita forced back her tears. “I know what I’m doing.”

  His attention turned back to Kita. “You would have thanked me later if this bastard hadn’t mated you.” He flung his hand toward Creed in a gesture of fury. “Son of a bitch had to go ruin it. You could have kept your youth, Kita, without having to fuck this animal.”

  Kita shook her head, terrified now.

  “You haven’t told her?” Phillip suddenly became amused, calm. “Haven’t you told her, Breed, how that hormone you’ve infected her with will stop her aging? How she’ll remain young and beautiful, and you’ll remain in your prime, strong and fully able to fuck her?” he sneered the last.

  “Creed?” she whispered his name.

  “Later, baby, I promise.” It was only a breath of sound.

  “Unfortunately, not later.” Phillip gave a happy, satisfied little sigh as Kita watched him warily.

  This was a monster standing in her uncle’s skin.

  “Let Kita go, Brandenmore,” Creed stated, his voice dark, held tightly in control. “We’ll deal with this, just between the two of us.”

  Phillip shook his head. “Sorry, Breed, I can’t do that,” he snapped. “She chose to mate an animal, now she can choose to submit to the tests I’ll need.” He glared back at them. “I may have found the fountain of youth, but it does need a few adjustments. As mates, you can help me make those adjustments.” His gaze became harder as Kita slowly gripped Creed’s arm in terror. “Unfortunately, you won’t live past many of the experiments. But they should prove to be very helpful.”

  She knew the news reports had vilified her uncle and her father for using the Breeds as research subjects. For their cruelty, the deaths they had supposedly caused, the inhuman experiments and the drugs that had nearly killed several top-level members of the Breed community.

  She held on to Creed, barely able to breathe, feeling the horrible sense of unreality become reality as she realized this truly wasn’t the uncle who had spoiled her as a child, who had promised her he and her father would always protect her when they learned her mother had cancer.

  Her uncle’s head tilted as he saw the understanding dawn on her face. A frown marred his brow, and for just a second she thought, maybe, she glimpsed the beloved uncle he had once been.

  “Mother loved you.” Her breathing hitched, the accusation in her voice now filled with tears. “You lied to her.”

  His frown deepened as anger lit his gaze. “Never once did I lie to your mother,” he gritted out. “She was like my own child. I raised her.” He thumped his chest possessively. “I protected her.”

  “You swore to her you and my father would protect me,” she cried furiously. “Look at you. What would she do if she saw you right now, Uncle Phillip? She would cry.”

  He had once stated nothing destroyed him more than to see his sister cry. As the words left her lips, she finally saw a flash of humanity in those cold, dead eyes.

  He stared back at her, her brown irises shadowed, filled with agony as the tears she tried to hold back slipped free.

  “Don’t cry,” he whispered.

  “What have you done, Uncle Phillip?”

  His expression twisted. “The fountain of youth, Kita.” He looked around as though searching desperately for something. “I found it. The Breeds. They hold the fountain of youth.” His gaze swung back to her, his fingers clenching at his side, his body tense now, ramrod straight, strong and young again. “You hold the fountain of youth,” he whispered, his gaze, his expression shadowed with grief. “Why, Kita? Why did you let him touch you? You can’t live without your liver, Kita. It creates . . .” He stopped.

  His expression became frozen, his gaze laser sharp. “You’ll have to die, just as he will.”

  “For the fountain of youth.” Tears were rolling down her cheeks. “You stole my uncle for his youth.” This wasn’t her uncle Phillip any longer.

  Beside her, she felt Creed tense, his fingers rubbing against her wrist to get her attention. He wanted something.

  Again. He was scratching out the word on her arm.

  Again. She followed each curve his nail made.

  “Mother loved you. Do you remember?” Having grasped Creed’s meaning, Kita said the one thing she now knew would distract her uncle. “She cried for you when she died.”

  The monster who had stolen her uncle’s form swung his head away. His shoulders heaved, and then the world around her went to hell.

  The lights in the garage suddenly burst, throwing them all into darkness as pieces of the fluorescent bulbs rained down on them.

  Creed swung her around, pushed her beneath an old worktable she had never cleared out of the area, and suddenly, he was gone.

  Laser fire and gunfire began ricocheting around her, blasting into walls as screams filled her senses. She knew that, if she survived, they would echo in her nightmares.

  She couldn’t see anything through the flashes of light. She had no idea where anyone was, who they were, or if Creed was even still alive.

  “You bitch!”

  Kita screamed as the table toppled over and a flash of light exploded through the room, revealing her uncle, his expression demonic, his eyes burning red, a second before everything went dark again.

  •CHAPTER 10•

  Her father had saved her life. He just may have killed his brother-in-law.

  Kita sat in the corner of the garage as Breed enforcers swarmed around the area, each consulting with Jonas Wyatt. Next to him stood the woman who had betrayed her uncle. Diane Broen. A mercenary her uncle had hired, but who, Kita learned, had already given her loyalty and the loyalty of her team to Jonas Wyatt.

  Horace Engalls sat on an upended wooden box, his face in his hands, mourning the man who had betrayed them all.

  When her uncle had disappeared, despite rumors of his death, Horace and Kita had assumed the Breeds had captured him. They had been right. He had been imprisoned in Virginia as the Breed scientists attempted to learn how he created the serum that began turning back his age. A serum he had injected into an infant child.

  Kita was still in shock. Her uncle, her loving, doting uncle had done something that could potentially destroy an infant? He had let a baby go hungry. He had let her lie in her own waste without changing her diaper. He had attempted to kill her when he’d seen he couldn’t escape with her.

  For what?

  For the fountain of youth. Because he believed Amber’s reaction to the drug would answer the question of why the drug was killing him. Unfortunately, if it was going to answer anything, it wasn’t doing so yet. Amber’s body was only showing minute anomalies. Anomalies Kita hadn’t yet been given details on.

  “Kita.” Behind her, Creed still held her.

  He had caught her as her uncle fell, his blood spattering from a single gunshot wound to the shoulder, low, perhaps too close to his chest, inflicted by her father.

  Her father had also been the reason the lights had blown.

  As her uncle confronted Kita and Creed, Horace Engalls had done what he had always done best: he tinkered. This time, with the electric generator that fed the fluorescent lights in the garage.


  As the lights went out, he had rushed in just in time to save Kita from the injection her uncle had been preparing to shove into her arm.

  The one that would have destroyed her as it had destroyed him.

  “I’m okay,” she finally answered him.

  The answers hadn’t come quickly.

  Kita felt as though they had been there for hours.

  When the lights had been restored, Jonas Wyatt, a half dozen Breeds, Diane Broen, and the mercenary working with her were the only ones still standing.

  Phillip Brandenmore and the other three mercenaries he had hired were dead.

  “You’re not okay.” He was holding her against his chest, his hand at her head, and she was still crying.

  Not as hard as she had been, but the tears didn’t want to stop.

  “Creed, I need your weapon.” Diane loped over to them, a delicate hand extending, palm out, revealing a slash of scars emphasized by the blood on her hand. “Once the authorities arrive we don’t want to blow your cover.”

  Creed handed it over as Kita lifted her gaze and saw the compassion in the other woman’s expression.

  Diane tucked the weapon into the back of her jeans, then hesitated before slowly hunching down in front of Kita. “Nightmares begin like this,” Diane said softly, glancing up at Creed, then back to Kita. “Don’t blame yourself, Ms. Engalls, and they won’t be near as bad.”

  Kita could only shake her head as the other woman stood again and walked toward Jonas.

  “Come on. Dealing with the authorities isn’t something I’m in the mood for.” Creed didn’t give her a chance to answer; he picked her up in his arms and before she knew it, she knew she was holding on to him like the lifeline she needed, burying her face against his neck.

  Minutes later, he sat down on the bed, his hand stroking her hair.

  “I love you, Kita,” he whispered. “I loved you before that first month was out, and I love you even more now. Give us a chance to work through this.”

  She shook her head.

  “Don’t make me beg.” His voice was dark, tortured.

  Lifting her head, she stared at him. “You don’t have to beg, Creed,” she whispered tearfully. “If you left me now, I don’t know if I could handle it. Nothing seems real to me anymore except you. You are the only thing in my life in the past year that hasn’t changed.”