Touch of Seduction Page 15

  “One already has,” he muttered, and quickly explained how Westmore had already gained possession of one cross, making the current tally, as far as they were aware, four to one. “In the beginning, we just wanted to hoard the crosses to keep them safe,” he went on, finishing the last of his fries. “But too many Merrick started falling. It became clear, pretty quickly, that the only way to deal with this thing is to get the Markers out there in the field, where the Merrick can use them.”

  “And you have no idea how many Markers are still out there, waiting to be found?”

  “Not yet. But Saige is starting to decipher the maps faster and faster, so hopefully we’ll have a count before too long.” Nodding toward her soda, which she was trying to balance between her knees while she ate her food, he said, “If you open up the glove box you can sit your drink in the cup holder.”

  “Thanks.” She popped the glove box open, then immediately slid him a startled, wide-eyed look. Taking another bite of his burger, Aiden hoped he’d remembered to move the stash of condoms he usually kept in there.

  “Something wrong?” he asked after he’d swallowed the bite.

  She tilted her head toward the open glove box. “Did you know you have a bunch of wooden stakes in here?”

  He laughed under his breath, feeling as if he’d just dodged a bullet. “You remember the Kraven I told you about?” he asked, relieved to be talking about weapons instead of his sex life. “Well, the only way to kill them is to stake them through the heart with wood.”

  She gave a soft, feminine snort. “You’re kidding.”

  Aiden flashed her a wry grin. “I wish I was.”

  “How…gross.”

  “It isn’t pretty, I’ll give you that.” He wadded up the wrapper from his burger, cleared his throat and forced himself to say, “And, uh, speaking of other things that aren’t pretty, I’m sorry about earlier.” He’d been too chicken to bring it up until now, but knew it needed to be said.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, opening the bag for him to toss his wrapper into.

  Heat crawled its way up his chest. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  “That?” Her voice held a quiet note of confusion, her attention on Jamie as she twisted around to check on her.

  “The way my claws released during the fight,” he grunted, forcing the words from his tight throat.

  He could feel her surprise as she swung her gaze back to him, staring at his profile. “Don’t be ridiculous, Aiden. You were fighting to protect me. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

  He raked his hair back from his face, a restless energy thrumming beneath his skin. “Yeah, you see…I, uh, I just don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

  “Don’t worry.” Another feminine snort. “It’ll take more than some fancy claws to scare me off.”

  His chest vibrated with a deep, gritty bark of laughter as relief flooded his system, easing his tension, making him feel mellow for the first time since the attack. Reaching down, he turned the radio on low, then jerked his chin toward the backseat. “Since we’re on the topic, have you told her what I am?”

  She spoke quietly enough that Jamie wouldn’t overhear. “She knows you’re a shifter, but not what kind. And in case you’ve forgotten, you still haven’t told me what kind, either.”

  “Curious?” he murmured, sliding her a quick grin, a strange feeling of lightness in his chest now, as if he’d swallowed a balloon.

  Her gaze slid away. “After seeing you this morning, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”

  She looked…nervous, and his easiness began to fade. “I would never hurt you, Liv.”

  “I know that. It was just…you were one serious badass, Aiden. Even when trying to fight something that was more mist than substance. It’s just that…well, I wish I could be like that.” She lifted her gaze, giving him another one of those soft, tender smiles. “Jamie deserves a champion like you to look after her.”

  “And what about you?”

  “Me?” More nerves were revealed in that single shaky word. Or maybe shyness. Either way, it was clear she didn’t like being the focus of the conversation, but he wasn’t going to let it drop.

  “What do you deserve, Liv?”

  “I don’t understand,” she hedged, busying herself with cleaning up the rest of their trash.

  “Yeah, you do.” Keeping one hand on the wheel, he reached out and caught her chin, pulling her face back around. A glance revealed rosy splotches on her cheeks, burning beneath the pale skin. If he hadn’t been driving, Aiden knew he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from leaning over and touching his lips to those bright patches, tasting the heat of her blush. “Come on, Liv. Talk to me.”

  “All done!” Jamie’s little voice suddenly called out from the backseat, breaking the spell. “That was yummy!”

  “Saved by the munchkin,” he drawled, pulling his hand back from her face. Liv shook her head in one of those I-need-to-collect-my-wits kind of moves, then turned to collect Jamie’s wrappers.

  “Can we play a game?” Jamie asked, and after turning off the radio, Aiden quickly found himself joining in a game of “I Spy.” Afterward, Liv and Jamie sang silly songs that had him laughing out loud, while inside his freaking head was spinning. He didn’t know who this man was, driving the truck down the highway, enjoying the company of a human female and a little girl, as if they were his to enjoy. As if they belonged to him.

  As if they were one big happy family.

  He should have been going out of his skull—but the truth was that he couldn’t get enough of it. Was eating up each moment like a fly with honey.

  When Jamie decided she’d had enough of the games and songs, Liv set her up with the iPod again to watch another Disney movie, and Aiden reached down to turn the radio back on. He scanned the channels until he found a classic rock station playing Van Morrison, then set the volume low enough that they could still talk.

  “God, I shouldn’t have eaten all that,” Olivia groaned, nudging the McDonald’s bag with the toe of her shoe. “Every single one of those calories is headed straight for my backside.”

  He snorted, shaking his head. “I’ll never understand why women worry about their bodies like they do. Men like women with a little meat on their bones.”

  “I have more than a little,” she snickered.

  Aiden slid her a crooked smile. “You’re damn near scrawny, Liv.”

  “Yeah? Well, you obviously need glasses, Watchman.”

  “Perfect eyesight, actually,” he shot back, enjoying their easy banter. “Better than a human’s.”

  “Then you know damn well that I’m…plump.” Her voice was light, and yet there was something edging the words that caught his attention. Made him wonder if some jackass had actually said something to give her a complex about her weight.

  “In some places, yeah,” he grunted, his fingers flexing around the wheel as he thought about how good it would feel to wring said jackass’s neck. “The right ones. I mean, you are top-heavy.”

  She covered her mouth with her hand as if to hold back the soft spill of her laughter. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “Face it, Liv. You’re tiny compared to me,” he offered with a shrug, dragging his heavy-lidded gaze down her body for a quick once-over before looking back at the road. Another light rain began to fall, the sky darkening with thick, swollen clouds.

  “Anyone is tiny compared to you,” she said dryly, rolling her eyes. “Your mother must have had a heck of a time keeping you in clothes when you were a kid.”

  The M word hit him low in the gut, his stomach going sour at the thought of the woman who’d birthed him, while a familiar burn of rage swept through his system. He locked his jaw. Kept his gaze glued to the road, taking slow, easy breaths as he watched the streams of rain meander their way in jagged lines across the windshield.

  “Did I, uh, say something wrong?” she murmured.

  “Naw.” He rolled his shoulde
r. Shifted in the seat to get more comfortable. Chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking that he’d kill for a friggin’ cigarette. “I just don’t talk about my mother. Ever.”

  He didn’t even realize he’d started to rub his right wrist, until she reached over and touched her fingertips to his skin, making him jump. The sensation slipped down his spine. Climbed back up with a surge of heat that struggled against the knot of cold still sitting in his gut like a lump of metal.

  “When did you get these?” she asked, tracing the tip of her finger along one of the intricate designs. Though he knew she could feel the scar tissue that encircled his wrist, she didn’t say anything. Simply followed the patterns of his tattoos with that light, easy touch that was creating all kinds of havoc in his body.

  Aiden cleared his throat. Reached down and rearranged his dick to keep it from strangling. Fought to make sense of the strange emotions crawling through him, prickling beneath his skin. “I got the tats when I was fourteen.”

  “So young,” she said with a soft note of surprise, returning her hand to her lap. Part of him was relieved she was no longer touching the tattoos, while another part wanted to shout, Put it back! Touch me again! The gentle press of her fingers had been so different from the way women normally touched him. There was no sexual intent in it. Just a tender, gentle caring that rattled something inside him loose. He didn’t know what it was, but could feel it banging around inside his chest, probably causing all kinds of damage. Not that he cared. “You were still just a kid.”

  “Naw, I was old by then,” he muttered, pulling his hand down his face.

  He could feel her unspoken questions blasting against him, crowding the inside of the truck, and he ground his jaw, wishing he wasn’t so screwed up inside. That he could be just a little bit closer to the “normal” that she wanted for her life.

  “Are they protection spells?”

  He barked a gruff burst of laughter. “Not likely.”

  “Okay. What, then?”

  For a moment he almost considered telling her what they were, then regained his hold on sanity and shoved the idiotic idea aside. No sense scaring her off any more than he already had. Or would. Sooner or later, he knew she was going to look at him as something that wasn’t good enough to wipe her feet on, much less to lie down with. He just hoped he’d have gotten his fill of her by the time it happened.

  “Oh, my God,” she gasped, suddenly grabbing his arm.

  “What? What is it?” A quick glance showed her wide-eyed gaze zeroed in on his thigh—the one that bastard had clawed open. His jeans were dark with wet, sticky blood, and he winced, hoping she wasn’t going to freak. He’d changed his clothes and bandaged the wound as best as he could with the first aid kit he carried in the truck, but it had obviously pulled open and bled through its wrapping.

  “You were lying about how quickly it would heal,” she said unsteadily, settling that smoky gaze on his face. “When I asked you this morning, you said you didn’t need stitches because it would close up in a few hours.”

  When they’d headed back to the hotel room that morning and he’d stripped down to his boxers, she’d freaked when she’d seen his injured leg. He’d finally calmed her down by explaining that the wound was nothing…that it would heal quickly and she’d never even know it had been there. And by tomorrow that would be true. He’d just exaggerated a bit about how long it would take.

  “You need to see a doctor, Aiden.”

  He shrugged. “Naw, it’ll be closed up soon. Trust me, Liv—I’ve had worse.”

  She crossed her arms, her quiet voice rough with tension as she said, “I still think we should get you some stitches. It’s ridiculous just to let it bleed like that. Not to mention the fact that you must be in pain.”

  “Seriously, I’m okay,” he grunted, his stomach muscles knotted by the fact that she actually sounded as if she cared that he’d been hurt. As if it actually mattered to her. “I’ll pick up some more bandages before we stop tonight. But it’ll probably be healed by then, anyway. I doubt it’ll even leave a scar.”

  Without any warning she reached out and touched her hand to one of the smooth scars that marred his wrists beneath the dark tats. “If that’s true, then why didn’t these heal?”

  “I was too young when they were made.”

  “Someone hurt you when you were little?” Shock, as well as a healthy dose of outrage.

  He shifted again. Rubbed his palm against the scratchy edge of his jaw. “Yeah, but they paid for it when I got bigger.”

  “Paid for it how?” Soft words, little more than a whisper.

  He cut her a dark look, arching his right brow. “How do you think?”

  She didn’t flinch away from his look. Just stared right back at him, violet eyes wide and clear. “You killed them?”

  “Christ. This isn’t good conversation material,” he muttered, reaching up to rub at the knotted muscles in the back of his neck. “Trust me.”

  “So let me see if I’ve got this straight. You don’t talk about your mother. Don’t talk about your scars. And you don’t even talk about your tattoos. Is that right?”

  “That’s about it.” He ground out the words.

  “So I spill my secrets, but you get to keep yours?” He’d have had to be an idiot to miss the rising temper in her words. Not that he blamed her.

  “You should thank me,” he rasped. “There are some things you don’t want to know.”

  “Or maybe they’re just things you don’t want me to know.”

  He nodded. “That, too.”

  “Fine, but don’t expect me to keep spilling my guts to you. I—”

  “Jesus,” he growled, cutting her off. “There’s no reason to get pissy. My past would probably bore you, Liv, so think of it as me doing you a favor, okay?”

  “Whatever, Aiden.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he struggled to keep his voice calm. “I’m telling you, it’s no big deal.”

  Clearly the woman didn’t know when to give up, reminding him of a pit bull with a bone. “And I’m telling you that I know you’re lying.”

  “Drop it,” he grunted, forcing the words through the clenched wall of his teeth.

  “You know,” she said tightly, looking away as she wrapped her arms over her front, one hand resting on her shoulder, the other on her rib cage. “You could try trusting me. But you won’t.”

  A dark sound tore from his throat, thick with frustration.

  Silence stretched out. Thick. Heavy. Punctuated only by the rhythmic slapping of the windshield wipers.

  “Just tell me one thing,” she said, her voice muted.

  “Christ, what?” He sighed, pulling his hand down his face again.

  She turned her head so that she could look at him. “Did you kill them?”

  Aiden didn’t answer at first, but he could feel her gaze burning against the side of his face and knew she wasn’t going to let it go. “Every last one of them,” he finally admitted in a low voice, wishing he could get the visions out of his head. But they were a stain he couldn’t wash out. A blotch on his soul that he knew would always be there.

  Not that he regretted the killings. But he couldn’t forget the way he’d done it. The sheer savagery of the act. Or the consequences that had followed.

  She shivered, tightening her arms around her body. Aiden had expected her to be disgusted by the revelation, or at least horrified by his ruthlessness, but as she turned her head to stare out her rain-spattered window, he could have sworn she whispered, “Good.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Southern Illinois

  Saturday night

  PEEKING AROUND THE CORNER of Aiden’s bedroom door, Olivia peered into the small hotel room, fully aware that she was making a mistake. After driving late into the evening, they’d finally stopped for the night and taken a family suite with two connecting bedrooms. Because Kellan had his handmade alarms with him, Aiden had agreed that she and Jamie could have their own room. He�
��d taken the other one, leaving Kellan and Noah with the two sofa beds in the living room, though the men had agreed they’d take shifts pulling guard duty during the night, their level of caution elevated even higher after the events of the morning.

  If she’d been smart, she would have been using the time to get some rest. God only knew when things were going to get crazy again. The Casus could find them. Or another of those creepy things from that morning, and yet there she was, acting like a Peeping Tom. Olivia had intended to simply knock and ask how he was feeling, but when she’d found the door ajar, she hadn’t been able to resist a look inside.

  Hoping to catch a glimpse of something you shouldn’t…hmm?

  “Shut up,” she muttered under her breath, both bemused and irritated by the fact that she was talking to herself.

  Her gaze found him instantly, her tummy doing another one of those nervous little flips at the decadent sight he made. No matter how she looked at it, the odds were strong that this wasn’t a good idea. A stupid one, more than likely. But she didn’t care. She was all too aware of the terrifying fact that he could have died that morning. That she could have lost him. She needed to see with her own eyes that he was okay. That the injury to his leg wasn’t causing any lingering pain.

  Needed simply to be near him, which told her just how much trouble she was really in.

  He was lying diagonally across the bed, on his stomach, with nothing more than a small hotel towel wrapped around his lean hips, humming softly to himself. Since he faced away from the door, Olivia couldn’t see his expression, just the back of his head and one side of his long, golden body. He’d showered, washing away the blood that must have covered his leg, and she shivered as she remembered his blood-soaked jeans, then immediately shoved the chilling image away.

  No, she wouldn’t think of that now. Instead, she would give herself this moment to simply enjoy the eye-dazzling view. She started at one end of his mouthwatering body, moving her avid gaze over his long feet, up along the strong muscles of his legs, relieved to see that he hadn’t needed to rebandage his thigh. From there, Olivia followed the naked line of flesh up to the hem of the white cotton, then over the firm, towel-covered muscles of his backside until she reached the breathtaking expanse of his golden back. He had his right arm folded beneath his head, the tattooed fingers of his left hand moving smoothly against the snowy white of the top sheet.