Wicked Kiss Page 2

  Adam’s expression went hard. He surveyed her head to toe, reaching for her shirt.

  She slapped at his hands, adrenaline exploding inside her. “What are you doing?”

  He radiated menace. “Your clothing has been tagged, and I don’t know where. Strip, baby.”

  Baby? Did he just call her baby? Wait a minute. “Strip?”

  “Now.” A muscle ticked in his powerful jaw. “Our tags are minute and could be anywhere on you.” He dug both big hands through her hair, tugging just enough to flood her with unwelcome tingles. “Not in your hair.”

  “I am not stripping,” she said through clenched teeth, her body doing a full tremble against her will.

  He lowered his head until his nose almost touched hers. “Take everything off, or I’ll do it for you.”

  She blinked. Her abdomen clenched. Heat slid through her to land in her core.

  He gave a barely perceptible eye roll and turned around, pulling off his T-shirt. “Drop the clothes, and I’ll give you my shirt. It’ll cover you for the time being.” Muscles rippled in his back, moving a jagged tattoo of the symbols CE9 over his left shoulder blade. What did CE9 stand for? The ink was dark and intricate and seemed right at home on him.

  Her mouth went dry. Tight-assed Adam Dunne had a tat? Seriously? Who was this guy?

  “Now, Victoria. We have to hurry.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, taking a quick look around. Now. It was her only chance to get away from the witches. There had to be an American consulate somewhere. She pivoted to run and made it nearly a foot before his muscled arm snagged her around the waist. She halted mid-stride, and the air whooshed from her lungs. Her eyes bugged out. Whoa. He moved faster than sound.

  He hauled her back against his rock-hard bare chest, and his breath brushed her ear. “Don’t forget, I gave you a chance.” His fingers tangled in the bottom of her shirt.

  “No,” she yelped, struggling against him, panic hazing her vision.

  “Aye,” he muttered, easily ripping the wet material over her head. A flick of his finger between her breasts released her bra, and he tugged it away. Rain splashed over her naked skin. His broad chest warmed her bare back.

  The gurgle up from her chest held a slight hysterical giggle. Obviously not Adam’s first bra. “Damn it, Adam.” She kicked back, her heel bouncing off his shin.

  He flipped her around to face him, and her hair spun water. “Stop fighting me,” he growled.

  Her chin dropped as reality splashed in. Red slashed across his angled face, and his eyes burned a fiery green. Danger. For the first time, she would really see the otherworldly predator beneath his smooth veneer. She shivered in the rain, wanting nothing more than to cover her bare chest. But a girl had her pride, and he needed to know he didn’t scare her. Her chin lifted this time, and she met his gaze.

  Something flickered in those deadly eyes. Admiration? His head cocked ever so slightly to the side, and his nostrils flared. As if accepting her challenge, on his timeline, he slowly let his gaze wander.

  Her nipples, the little bastards, hardened instantly just as his heated gaze landed on them.

  Tension rolled through the small alley. From him.

  She swallowed. “Give me the shirt.” A small tremor caught her words.

  “The view is too lovely to hide.” His gaze lifted. “But as soon as you finish stripping, I will.”

  Lovely? She clenched her teeth together. Rain and wind whipped into her, and goose bumps rose on her skin. Even so, beneath his gaze, her body warmed. They had to get out of the alley. “Fine. Turn around?”

  His lip curved. “I already gave you that chance. Lose the pants and shoes. I’ll allow you the count of three.”

  Her jaw ached, and her temper snapped. “Excuse me?” she said levelly, turning just enough to get a good aim at his balls.

  His eyebrow lifted. “I retaliate, Victoria. Don’t forget that.” There was a sexual undertone to the threat that vibrated through the rain.

  Oh, she was out of her depth on way too many fronts right now. Yet nothing in her was about to show vulnerability to this man. Not once. Not ever. “Back off, Adam.”

  “One.”

  Her entire body stiffened, and she felt like she grew two inches. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Two.” He didn’t so much as twitch, and yet, as prey, she could sense he was about to pounce.

  Dropping all pretense of talking to him, she twisted and aimed a side kick for his groin with all the strength she could muster.

  He caught her ankle, tossed it down, and grabbed her pants with both hands. A quick twist, and they tore down the middle.

  She gasped. The material had been good and strong, and he’d destroyed it with his bare hands. “You jerk.” She swung and nailed him beneath the right eye. Pain shot through her knuckles to her wrist. What was his damn face made of?

  The sound he gave was much more growl than hiss. He tore her panties in two, and they hit the ground. Less than a heartbeat later, he yanked his shirt down to cover her. The soft material fell beneath her thighs and surrounded her with the scent of male.

  Her breath panted and she gasped out, already making another fist. Tattoos covered his chest, too!

  He flipped her around, and his palm landed square on her ass. Hard. The sound reverberated through the alley, and pain exploded through her butt. “Retaliation,” he muttered, yanking her back around to face him. Her hair spun around. He dropped his face to hers. “We done now?”

  “No,” she breathed out, the air hot, her mind spinning and her temper roaring.

  “Yes.” He settled a hand around her throat and drew her even nearer. “Kick. Off. The. Shoes.” His face was an implacable mask of determination, and he stood over her like an avenging god.

  She opened her mouth to let him have it, and he tightened his hold, almost cutting off her air.

  Her eyes widened.

  “I see you’re starting to understand me,” he said, his hold not relenting. “I’m sorry. You either get this, or you don’t. We’re at a life-and-death moment, darlin’. Obey me, or I’ll knock you out just to make sure we both fucking live.”

  He wasn’t bluffing. Everything inside her knew he was giving her the full truth. The witch would actually do it. “You’ll pay for this,” she sputtered.

  “Last chance.”

  She had to remain conscious. “Fine.” She could barely get the word out as she kicked off her shoes.

  “Good girl.” He leaned down and whipped off her socks, gently placing her feet on the wet cobblestones.

  His phone buzzed, and he released her to grab it, pressing the speaker button. “What?”

  “They’ve upped the order on the girl and canceled the ‘no harm’ directive. It’s upgraded to take her at all costs,” the same male voice all but shouted. “Get the fuck out of that alley.”

  The urgency got through to Tori, and she bunched her legs to run. Survival was all that mattered.

  Adam took her hand. “Sorry about the bare feet, but we’ll get you replacement clothes soon. For now, we don’t look back.”

  A car screeched to a stop outside the alley.

  “Bollocks. They’re here,” he muttered, launching into a run down the alley. “Hurry, and if I stop, keep going.”

  Panic seized her, and she held tight to his hand, her bare feet slapping hard cobblestones. Her ankles ached. A fireball careened past her, smashing into the brick building above her and raining down debris. She screamed.

  Adam stopped and shoved her behind him, dark blue plasma forming down his arms as he pivoted to fight.

  She gulped in air and peered around him as three men, all forming different-colored plasma balls, stalked toward them from the street.

  “Run, Victoria,” Adam bellowed.

  Chapter 2

  Adam kept his fire up around his face, hurtling ball after ball of plasma at the advancing men. He didn’t want to permanently hurt any member of the Guard, the police force for
the witch nation, but he also couldn’t let them see his identity.

  Never once in his life would he have thought he’d commit treason.

  Nor had he ever had a plan go so completely wrong. His bike was in pristine condition, and there was no explanation for it petering out. “Victoria? Get the hell out of here,” he ordered again.

  He’d also never had anyone disobey one of his direct orders during a combat situation.

  “And go where?” she demanded from behind him, yanking his gun from his waistband.

  What in the hell was the woman doing? Apparently one slap to the ass hadn’t been enough to teach her a lesson. “Put that back,” he snapped, hitting one of the men center mass with a plasma ball and sending the soldier flying backward into a brick building. Shards rained down, and the guy landed hard enough to bounce twice.

  He didn’t get back up.

  She kept behind Adam and to the right. Green laser bullets flashed by his arm as she apparently fired the gun. “What the hell is that?” she asked, still shooting.

  “Laser bullets that turn to lead upon impacting immortal flesh,” he muttered. Or human flesh, probably. They didn’t normally shoot humans, so who the hell knew?

  Did the woman have training? His dossiers on her didn’t include that, but since her sister was a cop, maybe there had been a few familial shooting sessions.

  She fired again, the bullets going wide of target. Very wide. So . . . no training.

  “Stop firing,” he said.

  “No. You definitely need backup.”

  Oh, they were going to have to get a few things straight, and soon. He ducked while a blue plasma ball flew by his head, making sure to keep her covered with his body at the same time. Enough. Gathering double his usual amount of power, he used both hands to create a ball and then threw it at the second man’s legs.

  The impact thundered through the alley, and the guy went down with a shriek of pain. He wouldn’t die, but he’d take a few years to recuperate.

  Without missing a step, Adam turned, grabbed his gun from Tori, and seized her elbow. “Keep up.” He launched himself into a run, noting how fragile her bones felt beneath his hand. It had been a century since he’d touched a human. They were far too breakable.

  She ran next to him, her head down, her lithe legs pumping furiously. Her bare feet didn’t slow her in the slightest. Man, he had to get the image of her pert breasts out of his damn head so they could survive this. The woman was much too tempting.

  So far, nobody had seen his face. They had to get out of there, or he’d be wanted by the ruling witch council, and he wouldn’t be able to help his brothers. They were already fugitives. The witch nation didn’t take well to subterfuge and disobedience.

  His family didn’t know any other way. It was a miracle they’d worked within the system for so long.

  He turned another corner, easily mapping their escape route in his mind along with their velocity, endurance, and possible hindrances. “Are you doing all right?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she gasped.

  “Almost there, sweetheart,” he said, leading her into a darkened alley. A helicopter whirred through the clouds above. Damn it. He reached the end of a rough stone building and jerked Victoria to a stop. He quickly rearranged a series of small stones in the exterior wall, and a barely there green door appeared.

  “Wh—” she started.

  He planted his palm against the door, right at eye level.

  Tori leaned over, hands on bare knees, still keeping the gun clasped tightly in one. Her breath panted out.

  The door hitched, shimmered, and then opened. Another helicopter joined the first above them.

  Adam grasped Tori’s arm and drew her inside the quiet interior. The door closed on its own. Darkness surrounded them and pressed in. Her breathing filled the silence, and he let her adjust while he listened for any threats on the outside. The helicopters hadn’t been close enough to see them, but they might have heat sensors that had kicked in before Adam had gotten them inside.

  No sounds filtered through the thick walls.

  “Where are we?” she whispered.

  “Lights,” he murmured.

  Century-old sconces lit up along a narrow hallway; the walls were stone, the floor dirt. The sense of magic, the real kind, born of physics and the laws of nature, filtered around them.

  Tori stood straighter, the purple streaks in her hair almost glowing. “Are we safe?”

  “Aye,” he said automatically.

  She stiffened. “Don’t give the little woman assurances. I need the truth. Are we safe?”

  Fuck no, they weren’t safe. There wasn’t a haven on the damn planet for them at the moment. “We’re as safe as we’re going to get.” He shoved his gun in at the back of his waist and then took her hand to move inside the building. “We’re in a safe house for now, and our heat signatures are hidden from the outside. We’ll hole up here until we can get to the airport.”

  “Okay.” She stumbled and quickly regained her balance, just like a cat.

  As they passed each sconce, it sputtered out into darkness.

  “Weird,” Victoria muttered, her head swinging from wall to wall, her voice echoing. “How do they do that?”

  He didn’t have time to explain quantum physics and the very real metaphysical world to her. “Magic.”

  She snorted. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

  Why couldn’t that suffice? They reached the end of the hallway, and smooth stone steps led down to another faded green door. The second they passed through it, both the stairs and door would disappear.

  He moved down the stairs, and his palm opened the door.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice echoing off the stones.

  “Down,” he answered, tuning his senses to the outside world. No shouts or running feet. That had to mean something. He drew her inside, called for the lights, and showed her a plush living room with priceless antiques and velvet furnishings.

  Victoria paused and looked around at the two small settees and hand-carved end tables. In his shirt, she appeared small and defenseless. “Have we traveled back in time to a whorehouse?”

  He barked out a laugh, surprising humor heating his chest. He paused. When was the last time he’d actually laughed? “Not exactly.” The walls were bare rock . . . at the moment. “Watch this.” Was he showing off for her? Maybe a little. “Engage,” he said quietly.

  Three of the walls lit up with screens—modern and very well connected. One displayed a series of camera feeds transmitting from around the local area, one showed satellite imagery, and the other was a blank screen with a cursor, waiting for his command.

  “Cool,” she breathed, stepping toward the nearest screen, which showed soldiers scouting the neighborhood. Her toenails were painted a wild purple that almost matched her hair. “Are they after us?” Her voice shook.

  “Aye,” he said, counting the boots on the ground through the screen. At least fifteen fully armed soldiers in combat gear wound through the labyrinth of alleys and streets within the closest seven square blocks. “This stronghold is owned by my family. Nobody else knows it exists.” Hopefully. It wouldn’t be the first time a family stronghold had been infiltrated.

  “Good,” she breathed, her shoulders dropping from around her ears to where they should be.

  Ah. So he had been able to provide some assurance. Excellent. Scaring her had never been his intention. Not that he had intentions toward her, but something about her free spirit intrigued him.

  He’d never felt free. Not really. Duty and family always called. He was a protector of the Coven Nine, of his people, and he lived that responsibility to his very bones. To be on the opposite side of the Guard, even in one campaign, ripped claws through him.

  Yet the woman staring at him managed to take him away from reality for a brief moment. God, she was stunning.

  The comfortable room glowing with passionate colors seemed suddenly too small. Her feminine scent, one
of wild orchids, wound around him, infiltrating his thoughts. He’d know her scent in the middle of Times Square, and sometimes late at night, when he couldn’t sleep, he could swear it was near.

  That she was near.

  He studied her. At least a foot shorter than he, she had classic features set in a stubborn face: straight nose, pointed chin, high cheekbones. What would she look like all flushed with passion?

  Her pretty blue eyes narrowed. “Why are you shaking your head at me?”

  “It’s not at you.” He turned toward the cursor and away from her delectable body. He’d always liked curvy women.

  Victoria rubbed her chin. “I have so fallen down the rabbit’s hole.”

  “Aye,” he said, striding toward the small kitchen to the right. “It’s past suppertime. Are you hungry?”

  “No. Thirsty though.” She was right on his heels. “Have a beer?”

  “No.” He rummaged through ancient cupboards and found a dusty bottle. “How about whiskey?”

  She nodded. “Perfect, and now you can tell me what the hell is going on. How are you a witch? How do they even exist? Why have your damn people held me hostage for nearly a week?”

  All good questions, really. He took out two lead crystal glasses, wiped them on his shirt, and poured healthy shots for them both. Turning, he handed one to Victoria.

  She looked at the honey-colored alcohol, sniffed it, and downed it in one gulp. Color bloomed across her pretty face.

  His lips twitched. “That’s hundred-year-old whiskey, darlin’.”

  She hummed. “I like it.” She held out her glass again, and this time he gave her a double.

  “Sip a bit so we can chat.” He added to his glass and moved into the living area, setting the bottle on a carved table before sitting. The woman should be coughing and not humming, although he appreciated the soft sound. “Have a seat.”

  She sat on a purple brocade chair. “Time for you to talk, Adam Dunne.” After the whiskey, her voice had deepened to a sexy whisper.

  His pants suddenly felt too tight. All right. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman, and this one was completely wrong for him. His body was just reacting like any healthy male’s would. He could control himself. “What do you want to know?” He took a big drink, allowing the whiskey to heat through him.