"I don't need… easy." Her cry echoed with hunger. "I need it all. Now. Now, Lance." She arched to him again, her thighs widening, her body straining against him. And as he had twice before, he lost control. With a ragged groan he pulled back before surging inside her in one hard, long thrust.
Fucking her was so incredibly hot, so much pleasure he swore each time he would never survive it.
"Kiss me, baby." His hands moved from her hips as he penetrated her to the hilt. His fingers speared into her hair, clenching into the silky strands as his lips covered hers. The taste he craved was there instantly. Honeysuckle and spice. Ambrosia. He kissed the taste from her lips then drew her tongue into his mouth and suckled more. God, she was sweet. From head to toe. Every soft pore she possessed, and it was his. She was his.
Holding her to him, he began to move, his hips shifting, drawing back before plunging his cock inside the hot, tight depths of her pussy. He fucked her with desperation, because he was a desperate man. He fucked her with imperative need, because she made him ache, made him long, made each possessive impulse in his soul desperate to bind her to him.
He took her with his body, then he took her with his soul. Deep, driving strokes, and shafted inside her powerfully, satisfaction surging through him as he felt her tighten.
"There you go, baby," he growled against her lips. "Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel that sweet pussy exploding around me."
"Damn you." Her cry was filled with hunger. "Harder. I need you harder."
"Harder," he groaned. "Hell, baby. I don't want to hurt you. I can't hurt you." It was all he could do to slow his thrusts as much as he was. He wanted to drive into her. But she was still so fucking tight, gripping him with exquisite strength, with tender muscles. He couldn't hurt her.
"Do it." She tore her lips from beneath his. "Do it now." She set her teeth in his shoulder and she bit him. It wasn't a delicate little bite. Sharp canines sank into his flesh, sending a spear of heat and pleasure-pain exploding inside his skull.
He took her harder. Holding her beneath him, he drove into her over and over again, until she arched under him, tore her mouth from him and screamed.
As though that sound were the catalyst he needed, Lance felt his balls tighten violently before he exploded inside her.
He came as though he had never come in his life. Violent pulses of semen erupted inside her as he drove into the very depths of her. His body jerked as hers shuddered beneath him. Convulsive spasms tore through them both as the explosions began to ease and then slowly faded away.
Lance lay against her, fighting to breathe for long seconds before he finally collapsed to her side and drew her against his body. The violence of his release had sapped the last remaining strength of his body, and he knew sleep was only seconds away. Peaceful sleep.
He heard the soft call of the winds outside his home, the promise of protection as he surrendered to his need to rest. He didn't have to worry about protecting Harmony for now. The land would protect them both.
"Sleep now," he whispered at her ear. "You're safe."
"Good night, Lance," Harmony whispered, allowing him to tuck her closer to his chest as his chin rested against her head.
Here. This was life, he thought as his eyes closed and sleep overtook him. Right here. And the small breeze at his ear whispered its affirmation. This was life. ____________
Harmony dozed through the night, her senses always aware, her sensitive ears picking up each sound outside Lance's home, listening for any change to the sounds of the night.
When danger neared, the wildlife would pause. It was a part of nature. They would watch and listen to see if the danger was to them or to others. There was no pause, no change in the symphony outside the windows.
That symphony allowed her to find partial rest. To lie against his chest, sheltered in his arms as he slept deeply, helplessly. She protected him as he had protected her. Allowing him the rest he needed before a new day began.
The last three days had been exceptionally hard on them both perhaps. It couldn't be easy for Lance either. His life had to have been thrown into as much disarray as hers. As she dozed in his arms, at times she imagined she felt parts of his soul in the heat of his body that soaked into her own. Why he would allow such an intimate part of himself inside a being as dark as herself, she couldn't fathom.
She didn't mean to sleep, not really. She had learned the fine art of dozing long ago. But for the first time, Harmony found peace. Cradled within his warmth, her soul rested.
CHAPTER 9
Keeping distance between her heart and Lance wasn't going to be easy, Harmony admitted two days later as she drove through town in her assigned Raider. The spare Raider was normally kept in case one of the others was down for repairs, Lance had explained the day before, almost apologizing for the sad shape of the vehicle. It wasn't the best of the lot, she admitted, and it definitely wasn't fit for desert patrol, but once she learned its quirks, maneuvering it through town was easy.
Tourist season was in full swing in Broken Butte. The desert, canyons and cave formations outside town made it a regular attraction for summer travelers. The town itself had an Old West flavor, from the boutiques, cafes and specialty shops that lined the main thoroughfare, to the bars, restaurants and hotels that rimmed the edges of the city.
There was a clinic, hospital and medical pavilion on one side of town, then along the western edge was a small industrial park and the stockyards to accommodate the ranchers.
It was a charming town, she admitted as she made her way along the industrial area she'd been given to patrol.
There were a few homes on the outskirts of town here, a trailer park as well as a few apartment complexes, but she had heard from the other deputies that it was considered the quietest part of town.
It was boring as hell, but she contented herself with the fact that as long as she wasn't in town, then she wasn't likely to run into H. R. Alonzo. Or get into any more trouble. Good ole Reverend Alonzo was going to keep pushing buttons until some enterprising Breed decided they had heard enough of his propaganda and capped a bullet in his brain.
He was the scourge of the Breed community, rallying the Blood supremacist and purist societies to protest every advancement the Breeds made in society. At present, he was once again applying for a permit to protest Megan Arness's ranch and the Breed halfway house she had set up there.Megan Arness was another problem, and Harmony did not want any part of the empath and her Breed husband. They had nearly caught up with her in France last year. Why they had given up the chase she had never been certain, but before they did, she had wondered if outrunning them was a hopeless cause.
Megan Arness could blow her secrets faster than anything or anyone alive if she got close enough. Harmony knew her shields were strong, but she also knew the rumors of that woman's power to detect emotions and secrets. And Harmony had too many secrets to hide.
And then there was the fact that sometimes tourists were just strange. She had stopped a mugging the day before— wrestling with the little SOB who had snatched a young mother's purse had been irritating as hell. He had been hyped on drugs and stronger than normal; she had been forced to slam his face into the pavement to disable and restrain him.
Unfortunately, she had broken his nose. She hadn't meant to. Hell, she wasn't used to wearing kid gloves. The little twit should have felt lucky he was alive rather than scream police abuse. Which was what had gotten her assigned to the town's outer limits.
"Harmony, your GPS is blinking again." Lance's voice came over the Raider's communications link, suggesting a thread of irritation. "Have you been messing with it?" She rolled her eyes. She had fixed it to begin with.
"I haven't touched it, Sheriff," she drawled as she reached to the dash and tapped at the GPS display. "It appears to be working fine on this end."
She checked her mirrors before pulling into an empty lot and adjusting the tracker module set in the dash.
"Don't start working on it." Lance's irritation was coming across loud and clear. "When you come back in, check with Davy in the garage; tell him I said to check it out."
"Davy worked on it the first time," she informed him as she undipped her seat belt before leaning to the side to look at the wires under the dash. "You should let me take it back to the house. I could get it together in a few hours on my own."
"A terrifying thought," he remarked. "Turn it in to the garage. And stop fooling with the wires."
She jerked her hand back from under the dash guiltily as she glared at the receiver.
"If the GPS is down, you can't track me," she snapped.
That wasn't going to work. She was a little too paranoid for that scenario. Jonas's terms for placement on the force was that she be trackable at all times. The bastard.
"It's fading, not offline," Lance assured her. "Go ahead and call it a day and head in to the garage. Maybe Davy will let you help him work on it."
She grimaced at the thought, then rose in her seat and sighed in frustration. Her gaze lifted to the rearview mirror and she froze in shock.
The navy and white SUV had parked close behind her, and the familiar form sitting in the driver's seat had her checking around the area quickly for witnesses. Damn, she didn't need this.
She flipped the comm link back on, speaking as she kept her eyes on the vehicle behind her. "Control, I'm going to need to take a personal break before heading in. There's a station just ahead."
"Roger that." Lenny Blanchard's voice came over the link. "I'll inform the sheriff." Which meant she had only a few precious minutes.
Pulling out of the vacant lot, she headed for the station ahead, where she turned in and drove around to the back of the building.
Dane.
Harmony parked the Raider, watching as he stepped from the SUV before lounging against it with deceptive laziness.
"I don't have time for this." She stopped a few feet from him, watching him warily. He was as savagely hewn and intrinsically handsome as ever. White-blond hair framed his darkly tanned face as he stared back at her from emerald green eyes. He was a few inches taller than Lance, easily six-five, with a powerfully corded muscular body that made most women pant in lust.
"I received a report you were captured." His gaze raked over her. And here was the part that always confused her most about Dane. How had he known she had been taken?
"Yeah, well, let's say I'm on parole," she quipped. "And meeting with you is going to cause problems. What the hell are you doing here?"
"I'm here to rescue you." White teeth flashed dangerously. "Are you ready to leave?" Harmony stepped back quickly. He was more than capable of making her leave; he had done so before. She stared around the deserted area, searching for his backup. Dane always had backup.
"I can't leave, Dane." She finally shook her head firmly. "I'm sure you know exactly why I'm here by now."
Dane always seemed to know everything.
He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her silently for long moments.
"Of course you can." His eyes finally narrowed on her as-sessingly. "I have a heli-jet waiting outside town. We can be out of here in half an hour."
"I told you, I can't leave." She gritted her teeth over the words as she felt her mind rebelling at the idea.
God, what was wrong with her? The mating heat was supposed to affect her body, not make her stupid. Of course she could leave; she just didn't want to. That was all. Freedom was a powerful lure.
"I just have to stick this out six months…"
"You won't make it six weeks before your enemies find you," he bit out. "The change in hair color is a nice touch. The makeup is nice. But you'll be found, Harmony. Eventually."