Hunted

Chapter 8

The private plane leveled off for the long flight to New York. Moira focused across the spacious aisle at Conn barking orders at the king through his phone. Apparently the unexpected attack by the Kurjans created a little anger in the soldier.

She settled back into the sofa, the scent of new leather soothing her. Conn faced her from his own sofa, and a fully stocked bar stood next to a table set for poker. She needed a drink. Or five. The pilots were secluded behind their door, and she hoped they hadn’t visited the bar first. She didn’t mind flying. Much. But crashing. Well, that made her stomach ache.

Conn clicked off with a growl, taking a moment to study her with those dangerous green eyes. “Are you sure you’re unharmed?”

“I’m fine.” But she wasn’t. The quiet hum of the engines and darkness outside lent an intimacy to the interior she’d like to avoid. Conn’s scent of leather and gunpowder permeated the space, sending her pulse jogging and her thighs softening. An inevitable reaction to a vampire mate. “You were shot.”

He nodded, ripping off his dark shirt to reveal bullet holes that were already closing. “The bullets fell out on the way.” Quick swipes with the shirt had the blood wiped off his cut abdomen.

Moira inhaled deeply. How had she’d forgotten the breadth of his chest? The sheer muscle and strength in that smooth torso? She cleared her throat. “I figured.”

His gaze remained on her as if waiting, patient and prepared, to pounce.

They needed to talk, but the words escaped her. After some thought, she gave it a try. “Why did you yell at the king?”

Metallic eyes flashed. “His scouts and informants are pathetic.” Conn ran a rough hand through thick hair. “We have a leak. No way it’s a coincidence you get attacked by Kurjans the day I show up in Ireland. They found you because of me.”

Bollocks. Unease filtered within her already heating blood. “That’s probably not exactly true.” Only honed strength of will kept her from fidgeting.

Conn lifted his head in the manner of a panther spotting prey. Though identical to hers, his couch seemed a lot smaller. “What do you mean?”

“Ahhh.” She was a fighter. As a member of the enforcers, she fought fear every day. Not only fear, but enemy combatants with more experience and devastating weapons. Facing one lone vampire should not create this churning in her stomach. “This wasn’t their first attempt.” Her voice emerged much softer than she’d intended.

Tension slammed through the enclosed space. “Excuse me?”

His softness exceeded hers in a way that caught the breath in her throat. She forced her hands to remain calmly by her sides. Keeping her face placid, she faced down the vampire.

Sprawled across the aisle, bare to the waist with no weapons, danger all but surrounded him. Came from him. An irony of fate. True predators blended with their surroundings. The high cheekbones and handsome face masked the most deadly warrior in history.

One she was going to really piss off. “The Kurjans tried to take me on two previous occasions.” She waited for the explosion.

None came.

Conn didn’t move a muscle, just kept that glittering gaze on her. His lids half lowered. “Say that again.”

Oh hell no. The words were hard enough to say the first time. She eyed the back of the plane. A full bathroom and bedroom waited at the rear. No safety there.

“I’m a good fighter, Conn.” Damn it. She didn’t need to defend herself. His organs were safe as well. Her ability to melt organs so far only worked on humans, probably due to their less complex genetic makeup ... a fact he didn’t need to know.

“What do you expect me to do with this information, Moira?” The innocuous words did nothing to mask the bite behind them.

Shove it up his ass? “Not a damn thing.” Anger began to slide through her veins.

He straightened up, leaning forward. “There’s the rub, Dailtín. How long have you known me?”

The conversation was beginning to close her throat—too many land mines. “A century.” She looked for the trap. Conn wasn’t a man to talk. For as long as she’d known him, action had been his mantra.

“How did you think I’d react to your joining the enforcers, taking a vow to give your life for them, coupled with hiding the Kurjan’s attack on you?” He cocked his head to the side in curiosity ... or for a better angle on her jugular. Probably the jugular.

“I didn’t give you a thought.” The lie nearly caught in her throat. The brand on her hip flared to life in a flash of pain. “You’re at war, Connlan. As the commander of all the Realm soldiers, you have enough responsibilities.” She spat the last word out.

One dark eyebrow rose. “Is that what you are, Moira? A responsibility?” Threat existed in each syllable.

She jumped up. The bedroom door probably held a lock. “Yes.”

The plane rocked when he slid to his feet, blocking her path to the bedroom. “Then apparently I’ve ignored my responsibilities long enough.”

He loomed over her. She had two choices—either knock him aside or take a step back—and only a split second to decide which one to make. The rational decision was step back and reason with him.

Fuck reason.

She pivoted, kicking him solidly in the shin while dodging forward and shooting her body into his gut in a move guaranteed to throw him over her shoulder.

Except it didn’t.

Strong hands gripped her arms and tossed her up in the air—two feet off the ground. Her head missed the top of the plane by a mere inch. She gave a startled yelp, the sound gargling in her throat when he caught her by the biceps, holding her aloft like a limp doll. She lost her breath.

Fury. Pure anger blazed fire through his eyes and a deep crimson spread across his cheekbones. “Your freedom has ended, Brat.” He lowered her to her feet and his mouth crashed down on hers. A century ago he’d used persuasion and seduction. Today he took. Raw and demanding, his lips explored while his tongue commanded a kiss that tasted like sin and felt like ownership. Gone were the charming prince and the reasonable mate. In their place stood a predator finally unleashed, playing for keeps.

Lights exploded behind her eyelids. Need ripped through her body in a force too painful to be called desire. Or even lust. No words could describe the craving that shot fire from every nerve ending. She whimpered, returning his kiss, tangling her tongue with his. A roaring set up in her ears, the brand on her hip scalding with demand. Too much, too much, too much. She lifted her hands and shoved against his chest. Heat filled her palms.

With a soft cry, she wrenched her head away. “Wait.” Pain. So much need in her body. The only solution to the need held her.

“Wait for what?” Anger still filled his gaze.

Air. She needed air. Filling her lungs, she fought to steady her breath. “Wait.” She held out a hand, panic battling with the craving he’d lit. “This is, I mean, this is ... ”

He smiled. The wicked curve of his lips promised sin. “This is inevitable.”

She swallowed loudly. “No. I mean, it’s been a century. You know. Since ... ” Since her first time. Her only time. The air whished through the vents, and she shivered.

Nimble fingers caressed down her arms. Surprise lifted his eyebrows. “That night was the wildest of my entire life.” A too-knowing gaze wandered her face, studying what had to be blazing color. “Oh.”

Yeah, oh. She took a tenuous step back.

His eyes softened. Graceful as any panther, he sat down and lifted her to straddle his legs. “Sweetheart. It only hurts the first time.”

True. The second, third and even fourth of that night had been incredible. “I know.” His legs warmed her inner thighs and she fought the urge to rub against him. “But, well, maybe we should spend time getting to know each other first, this time.” Her body howled in protest. Not by any stretch did she consider they’d never lie together again. She had too much need, too much curiosity to walk away without seeing if sex with Conn was as good as she remembered.

“Ah.” His smile was lethal. “I have a photographic memory, Moira. I know every inch of you.” His palm traveled down her back to tap one finger at the top of her left buttock. Heat flushed along her skin. “For example, right here there’s a tiny mark in the shape of a waning moon.”

“Yes, but ...” Focus. She needed to focus.

He leaned in, wandering his lips over her neck. “And, if I nip right here”—his teeth rubbed against her skin—“you make the prettiest sound of need.” She groaned, her nipples peaking. She blinked. Once. Twice. A third time. God, she wanted him. Was it fate—the mating mark? Something whispered deep across her mind that it was Connlan. Even if he hadn’t marked her, she’d want him. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, and his lips closed over hers.

Vampires burned hotter than any other species. This one burned hotter than most. Heat singed her lips, sending desire sliding through her veins like fresh lava. A shiver wandered down her back, her nerve endings firing in its wake. His lips were firm, his tongue demanding, his hold tight.

She allowed herself to fall into the kiss. Into him, into the wild storm he unleashed.

Tangling her fingers through his hair, she kissed him back, pressing her breasts against his thick chest and her core against his.

Hard. He was so damn hard.

Yet the hands holding her remained gentle. The contrast banished all rational thought. The world fell away. Her skin ignited. Reality, imagination, existence narrowed down to the two of them.

She clutched her fingers, yanking his head back, her gaze on his face. A dark flush covered his high cheekbones, the silver in his eyes more intense than the green. His tongue flicked out to lick his lips and she felt it along her skin.

The craving she’d felt a century ago hadn’t been sated through time. If anything, the need had grown. “Is it always like this?”

“Hell, no. Only with you.” He dropped his hands to her hips, taking hold and standing. “I’ll show you.”

Moira wrapped her legs around Conn’s hips as he moved toward the bedroom. “Wait. Just wait a minute.”

“For what?” His tone implied he was done waiting. He kicked open the door, sliding his mouth along her neck to nip an earlobe.

Her head rolled to the side to allow greater access. “Negotiation.” A stupid word, but the only thing that sprang to her fuzzy mind.

He traced the shell of her ear. “Negotiation?”

She gasped. “We’re adults, not kids romping for the first time, Conn. We go into this with our eyes wide open.”

“I plan to keep my eyes open, Moira.” The deep sexy tone of his voice dropped low, and wetness coated her thighs. One quick toss had her bouncing on the bed.

She looked up, her breath caught at the intent in his gaze. Think. She needed to think. “No. I mean, this is only sex. Us releasing some serious tension we’ve built up. No lifetime commitment—we need to talk about it.”

Nimble fingers went to the buttons of his jeans. “I’m finished with talking.” His jeans hit the floor. “We’ve been talking for a while and apparently you haven’t been listening. ”

Naked. Connlan Kayrs stood before her as nude as the day he was born. Male. Aroused. Huge.

She would not look at his cock. No way. “Most men are vulnerable when nude, Conn.” The words slipped out before she could think.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Do I look vulnerable to you, Moira?”

“No.” She’d forgotten how big he was. Levering up on her knees, she tugged her shirt off. “This is just sex.”

He rolled his eyes. Naked and aroused, he still rolled his eyes. “Are you really hitting me with a bullshit statement about this just being sex? I’d assumed I’d allowed you enough time to grow the hell up.”

Her temper roared to the surface. She jerked her jeans and panties off. “I am being a grown-up, jackass. This is an adult discussion.”

“When did you start waxing? Everything?” His eyes flared with raw heat.

Embarrassment wound through her desire. “It’s the modern thing to do.” Damn him.

His gaze lingered on her bare skin before wandering up her torso. “Thank God for modern. I like your bra.”

Anger nearly choked her. Even so, she felt like an idiot, perched on the bed wearing only a sparkly pink brassiere. Good thing she’d hit the spa last week. “Thanks.” She sprang the front clasp loose and tossed the lingerie at his head. See how he liked being off balance.

He snagged the bra out of the air, twirling it around his finger. “I like your breasts better.”

She remembered. He’d spent lavish hours on them a century ago.

His fangs dropped low. “Time for a taste.”