Obsession Untamed (Feral Warriors #2)

Obsession Untamed (Feral Warriors #2) Page 9

“Is on the sofa.”

Delaney blinked. She froze as her eyes went wide. She could open her eyes again. Halleluiah. As her gaze took in the small, unoccupied living room, she tried to sit up. Grunting and straining against the invisible hand, she managed to prop her elbows under her. Elation swam through her as she panted with exertion.

The drug was wearing off.

“Is she sleeping? Or dead?” Tighe’s voice carried from the bedroom.

“Unharmed as far as I can tell, but she can’t move. What did you do to her?”

“I got control of her, just not her mind.”

“Eliminate her,” a third, hard voice chimed in. Not the voice of the man who’d carried her to safety. Not the voice of anyone she wanted to come face-to-face with without her Glock.

Again, she struggled to sit up, and like magic, was free. The drug had worn off!

“No one’s harming her.” Tighe’s voice. Yeah, Tighe. “Leave. I’ll see to her.”

“No,” Delaney muttered under her breath as she swung off the sofa and crept to the door. “I’ll leave. I’ll see to her.”

“We’re staying,” said the man who’d carried her out of the room.

“No you’re not.” Tighe’s voice was too close. No longer in the bedroom. “Hell.”

He’d spotted her.

Pulse racing, blood pounding in her ears, Delaney lunged for the door. Her hand closed around the knob, twisted and jerked hard, but the door opened only a couple of inches before slamming shut again. Tighe’s overwhelming presence loomed over her from behind.

She tried to whirl around, but he pressed her, face-first, against the door, his breath harsh in her ear.

“Don’t fear me.”

“Let me go, Tighe. Please.”

“Can’t do that.” He eased back a fraction, not so much that she could turn around, but enough that he was no longer laying his full weight against her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Could have fooled me.”

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her around, his expression grim as he appeared to stare down at her through the shades. “Where? Where did I hurt you?”

She gasped as she got a good look at him despite the shadows. He was a mess. Good grief. His face and body were streaked with blood, his shirt nearly shredded. Yet she couldn’t make out any injuries. No open, bleeding flesh. Not even any scratches to account for the blood.

Did that mean it wasn’t his? Yet how could he not be harmed with his clothing in tatters? The soft fluttering in her head intensified, as if the angel wings were agitated by the sight of him. The sensation echoed in her chest. As if she were worried about him. As if whatever he’d done to her made her think she cared.

His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Where are you hurt, Delaney?”

“I’m not, but I don’t think I can say the same for you.”

He glanced down at himself as if realizing for the first time what he looked like. “I’m fine. I didn’t hurt you?”

“No. Your friend got me out of there before you chucked any furniture my way.” She stared at him. “I guess he’s your friend? Good grief, one of them nearly killed you.”

Tighe grunted. “They look as bad as I do. And, yeah, they’re my friends. They heard me destroying the place and came to offer a little well-timed intervention.” He released her shoulder to stroke her hair. “Thank the goddess, I didn’t hurt you.”

She almost told him not to touch her hair, not to stroke her, but couldn’t bring herself to utter the words. His touch felt good. As if he cared. At least as if he cared that he hadn’t hurt her.

“Was it the drugs that sent you…over the edge?” she asked carefully.

He stilled. “The drugs?”

She sighed. “Right. No drugs involved here. You just waved your magic wand and got control of me like that.”

Oddly, the tension seemed to drain out of him. “Oh. That drug.”

“Tighe, there’s some nasty shit going on here,” she said quietly, reaching for his face as if she meant to press her palm to his cheek. She snatched her hand back. Yet that fluttering in her head whispered that he needed her touch. He needed her.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why don’t we both get out of here, Tighe? I can get you some help.”

“You’d help me, would you, brown eyes?” His thumb rose to stroke her cheek as if he had fluttering angel voices of his own telling him she needed him, too.

She didn’t. Of course she didn’t. Yet, heaven help her, something soft and weak inside her wanted to lean into that gentle touch. She steeled herself against the urge, but didn’t pull away. He was clearly a violent man she didn’t want to antagonize. Not when she was unarmed. But the truth was, she didn’t want to pull away. Angel voices aside, there was something about this man that drew her, something more than the flaming attraction.

There was a gentleness in his touch and a warmth in his voice that made her want to step inside the circle of his arms and lean against him, drawing strength and maybe just a little bit of comfort.

Was it more evidence of mind control, or was this her doing alone? Maybe she was starting to suffer from Stockholm Syndrome, that tendency of captives to identify with and care for their captors. She wasn’t sure which was more disturbing.

Or perhaps it was neither. Perhaps she was genuinely beginning to glimpse facets of a man who was more than he seemed.

His hand lifted, his fingers sliding into her hair, sending a soft shiver through her body. “I’m glad I didn’t hurt you.”

And, heaven help her, she believed him.

His thumb traced over her bottom lip, sending shards of excitement spiking into her blood. Her breath caught. She could feel his gaze on her mouth.

“I want to kiss you, brown eyes, but I’ve forced you enough.”

His words sent rich, warm desire pouring through her, turning her breasts heavy and her body aching to feel his mouth on hers again even as they lent more credence to her belief that he might be more than he seemed. A man who wasn’t evil but had definitely gotten himself tangled up in some nasty stuff.

She knew rationalizing when she heard it, even in her own head. She wanted him to kiss her.

“Your friends…”

“Are busy. And not going to bother us.”

She made a wry twist with her mouth. “And you don’t care if they do.”

He smiled, flashing a pair of sexy-as-hell dimples. “No.”

Ripples of need raced through her body, and she gave herself up to the desire, captured his strong face between her hands and pulled his mouth down to hers.

Some small part of her brain shouted that this was all part of the plan to get him to let his guard down, but the shout was quickly drowned out by the roar of pure, unadulterated passion.

Tighe shuddered and sucked in air through his nose as if trying to inhale her. His arms went around her and he pulled her against his chest as he captured her mouth in return.

The kiss exploded inside her, filling her with equal parts sweetness and crazy desire. She opened her mouth as he did, her tongue sliding sensuously against his. He tasted like he smelled, like rain and thunderstorms and wildness. Intoxicating.

Why? Why do I have to be so attracted to him?

His hands slid over her back as he slanted his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss.

Pain exploded in her head.

With a gasp, she pulled back.

“What’s the matter?” he asked sharply.

“My head. Headache. I need to lie down.” Before she passed out again. This was the exact pain she’d suffered in the parking garage. Not now. Not now.

Tighe cupped her face with his hands. The light pressure of his palms seemed to ease the pain.

“That helps,” she whispered.

“Lincoln Memorial,” Tighe called. “I’ll meet you over there.”

She tried to open her eyes, to look at him in confusion. Had she blanked out after all? She seemed to have missed the other half of that conversation.

Through the haze of pain, she saw a pair of jeans and a shirt come sailing out the bedroom door.

“Change before you bring the cops down on yourself,” a disembodied voice called. “And do something about the blood.”

Tighe made a sound in his throat, that oddly animal-sounding growl, and released her. The pain in her head soared. She collapsed back against the door, pressing her hands to her cheeks, but her own hands didn’t help.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d stood there, fighting back the waves of pain, when she felt Tighe’s hand close around her wrist.

“Come on, brown eyes. We’re going for a drive.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

But he opened the door and ushered her into the night, and she didn’t have the strength to argue. She let him steer her into the passenger seat of a car, in no shape to fight him. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, her only concern to stay conscious and keep her head on her shoulders until the awful thing passed.

Finally, finally, the pain began to recede. The headache disappeared, leaving her feeling shaky and cold. What was happening to her? The headache had felt like the kind she got before she saw the murders, but just like in the car, she’d seen nothing this time. Which didn’t please her in the least. If she had to suffer the pain, the least she could do was get a clue that might help her catch the killer.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes to find Tighe pulling to an illegal stop near the Lincoln Memorial. He released her hand. She hadn’t even remembered he was holding it.

“Get out, brown eyes.”

“What are we doing here?”

“My twin’s here.”

Her jaw dropped as he pushed from the car. She joined him, her mind scrambling and coming up with nothing that made any sense.

“How do you know he’s here?”

He grabbed her hand. “Come on.”

She ran to keep up with him as he headed toward the steps of the memorial, but they were still ten yards away when Tighe emitted another of those jungle growls, released her hand, and pulled out two wicked-looking switchblades in a single, quick move.

Delaney leaped back, watching with disbelief as he began stabbing the air. He was crazy. Completely and certifiably mad.

But as she stared, cuts began to appear on his cheeks and tears in his clothing as if from invisible claws.

Goose bumps rose on her skin as her head shook back and forth. She wasn’t seeing this. It wasn’t real. It was the drugs. She had to be hallucinating.

A dark shape above had her looking up as a huge bird of prey, a hawk, dropped out of the sky. For a terrible moment, she thought Tighe was going to turn those deadly knives on the bird, but he barely glanced at him. Instead, the bird began clawing at the air with talons and beak as if he, too, were battling an invisible enemy.

A moment later, a huge cat, a cougar, joined the fight, and she knew she had to be caught in one giant hallucinogen-induced dream.

God. Delaney backed away. She had to get out of there. But Tighe’s words came back to her. My twin’s here. If there was a chance she hadn’t dreamed that, too, she had to at least look for him.

She ran for the steps to the memorial and started up, as desperate to get away from the impossible battle as she was to find the murderer who’d nearly killed her.

With each step the question pounded in her brain.

What if I’m the only crazy one?

Tighe stabbed at the draden, tearing them off him as he tore out their hearts by the dozen.

Dammit, I’ve got to get behind cover and shift. Hawke’s voice sounded in his head. Through the vicious swarm, Tighe could just make out the hawk, nearly covered in the ferocious little beasts. My wings are being shredded faster than I can heal.

Since when do they attack animals? Kougar growled mentally. The draden were all over him, too, going for his eyes. Unlike Tighe, the cougar had no hands with which to stab and swat them away. I’m going to have to shift, too, but it’s too well lit here.

The Lincoln Memorial was a glowing beacon on the D.C. nightscape, and even in the middle of the night, people were known to roam the National Mall.

Do it, Tighe said. What in the hell’s going on, Hawke? Care to take a guess?

I think your clone’s behind this. He was made from a draden. I’m guessing he can communicate with them.

Tighe groaned inwardly. His own private army.

Your human’s on the run, Kougar said.

Tighe turned. Delaney was running, all right. Straight up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. She finally had a shot at freedom, and she was throwing it away to try to catch a murderer. Exactly what he was coming to expect from her, but the reality made his blood run cold.

He took off after her, a swarm of draden at his back, fear stabbing through his chest like a twelve-inch blade.

If that draden spawn of a clone of his was still up there, she’d be dead before he ever reached her.

Chapter Eight

“Delaney, wait!” Tighe’s voice echoed up from the base of the stairs.

Trust him, the angel wings whispered in her head.

Why she listened to either of them, she didn’t know, but she was too rattled to fight the instinct to stop. Three-quarters of the way up the steps, Delaney doubled over to catch her breath as Tighe climbed to join her.

As he drew near, she saw he was a bloody mess again. Ghostly fingers crawled over her scalp as, deep in her head, the clanging bells of disbelief rang and rang and rang.

“Don’t ever go after him alone, brown eyes. He’s too dangerous, in case you didn’t learn that the first time.”

“You seemed a little…preoccupied.” But, jeez, she wasn’t even armed. Either the whole situation had her badly shaken, or she really was losing her mind.