Veilers - Veiled Target Part 32

"Afraid I'll need that kick?"

"Nah. Just want to wave goodbye."

As soon as Gavin left, Hugh got back to his paperwork. At the rate he was able to focus, he'd be at it until departure time. The talk with Gavin had brought to mind the one thing he'd kept pushing away. That maybe Tess didn't want to leave P.I.E. Maybe she wanted her life to return to how things were before she'd met him.

There had always been something else nagging at her. Something that made her afraid to give him her heart. He felt her hesitation down to his bones, just as he felt her devotion. Whatever that something was, it was obviously big enough to keep them apart.

Lack of sleep soon turned his writing to scribbles, and he fell back in his seat for a few minutes of shut-eye. Being alert for his flight to Canada was more important than finishing logs.

Of course he dreamed about Tess. The two of them were in a mountain hideaway, far away from everyone and everything. A fire blazed in the fireplace and they were busy keeping each other warm. They lay on a bearskin rug, the glow from the fire touching her naked body in the most provocative way. He traced his finger along the curve of her side and she kept giggling while trying to hold still. His nose was buried in her hair and he breathed in her smell. Her scent drove him wild. Made him hunger for her. It was the most incredible smell. He could smell her like she was...

His eyes opened. He couldn't have been asleep for more than a few minutes, but the clock on his desk proved hours had pa.s.sed. And sitting on the other side of his desk, looking more beautiful than he remembered, was Tess.

Tess.

"I didn't want to wake you," she said, her voice soft, warm and sweeter than honey. G.o.d, how he'd missed that voice. It sounded so much better in person than it did in his head.

She's here. In the flesh.

"I hope you don't mind that I'm here. Gavin didn't seem to think it was a big deal that I wait for you to wake up. He told me you hadn't been sleeping very well."

And she's talking to me.

"I understand if you don't want to talk to me." She made a motion to get up from the chair.

"Wait," he finally said, finding his voice and shaking himself from his dreamlike state. He wasn't dreaming anymore. Thank G.o.d.

She sat back down. "Okay."

He got up and moved around the desk until he stood in front of her. Then, deciding it would be better to be on an even level, he brought the second chair in his office over to hers and took a seat. "It's good to see you."

"You too." Her eyes sparkled like the ocean under a full moon.

What pa.s.sed between them-without a word, without a touch-nearly put him in cardiac arrest. Heat, pa.s.sion, respect, adoration, love. He could feel her. She filled all his senses with her indescribable aura and he'd never let her walk out the door again.

Their knees b.u.mped, and a shock reverberated through him. She felt it too because she wiggled her leg away.

"Just like the first time we met," she said, her lips curling up in a most appealing way.

Her lips, along with the wiggle, sent his desire soaring. "I remember it well."

More staring took place. More comfortably explosive silence. More depth than he thought possible without language. Tess captivated him, embedded herself deeply into his core with a simple bat of her incredibly long eyelashes.

For so long he'd avoided getting close to anyone. His guard always up, his heart never accessible. When he'd watched his brother deteriorate over the loss of his mate, Hugh couldn't stand the idea that love was the culprit. As the end drew near for his brother he'd despised love, hated the thought of an emotion taking his best friend away. He still mourned the death of his brother. But now, fixated on the most breathtaking creature he'd ever laid eyes on, he understood what happened.

Why his brother pa.s.sed away.

And how if anything ever happened to Tess, he'd die of a broken heart too.

He hadn't planned for it to happen. But it did. He'd fallen so hopelessly in love with her that she was worth anything and everything that came his way.

She dropped her gaze, breaking their connection, and straightened her back. "As nice as you are to look at, that's not the reason I'm here."

The reason better be to his liking. "Before you start, I need to tell you something."

"Okay."

"Thank you."

"For what?" She fidgeted, crinkled her freckled nose.

"Saving my life."

He could see the wheels turning in her head and knew she was contemplating a smart-a.s.s response.

She went with, "You're welcome. Now it's my turn. I'm sorry."

"For what?" He fidgeted, lifted his brows.

She reached out and took his hands in hers, sending his body into an awesome addictive stupor.

"I'm sorry I ran away like I did. But I couldn't stay. I couldn't look at what I'd done for one more second." Her chest rose and fell. "I wouldn't take it back. Not any of it. And for so long I thought I was doing the right thing. For so long I've immersed myself in things to keep my mind off the fact that I was alone.

"I've loved only two people, well three, actually-my parents and Jason-and they died. I've been afraid to love again because I'm terrified to lose again."

"I won't-"

Her hand moved to his lips.

"Die on you," he mumbled.

"There are no guarantees. But the excitement I feel when I'm with you, the adrenaline you pump through my system, not to mention the way you make my heart bloom, is something I know I'll never experience with anyone else but you. And you're worth the risk."

"What are you saying?"

She whipped back her hands and punched him in the side of the arm. "I'm saying I surrender. And...I love you, you big oaf."

He felt the smile on his face reach past his ears. He'd told her he wanted her to be his mate, but had he told her he loved her? No.

"I love you so much it hurts," he said, pulling her into his arms.

"I know what you mean."

She smashed her lips against his and he absorbed her essence into every cell of his being. Her body shimmied closer and he wondered if there was time for a quickie before he left on vacation.

Without warning, he pulled back. "You available this next week?"

"As a matter of fact, I am. I'm currently unemployed so haven't got anywhere I need to be."

G.o.dd.a.m.n, he liked the sound of that. "Well, your timing couldn't be more perfect. I was just leaving for vacation."

"Got room for one more?" She ran her fingers through his hair.

"That depends. Do you accept?"

"If you're referring to the mate thing, it's forever right?" She twirled the hair at the nape of his neck, and tilted her head.

"Right. Think you can handle it?" He pinched her a.s.s as he scooted her closer into his lap again.

"Oh!" she cooed. "I know I can. The question is can you?"

"You bet I can."

"That reminds me," she said, twisting her hips against him in an exaggerated come-and-get-me gesture. "You already owe me on one bet."

"I think you just said something about a bet, but I'm having a hard time concentrating."

She nibbled on his earlobe and lowered her voice. "You owe me breakfast, big guy. Anywhere I want."

"How about for the rest of your life?"

"Deal."

About the Author.

Robin Bielman lives in Southern California with her high school sweetheart husband, two sons and crazy-cute mini Labradoodle, Harry (named after Harry Dresden from Jim Butcher's "Dresden Files" books). When not attached to her laptop, she can almost always be found with her nose in a book. She also likes to run, hike, and dip her toes in the ocean. Filled with wanderl.u.s.t, she longs to visit many different places and fulfill her curiosity. She wouldn't mind indulging her sweet tooth in every location either. She's a lover of sticky notes, cable television shows and cafe mochas. Writing is a dream come true, and she still pinches herself to be sure it's real.

She writes contemporary and paranormal romance and loves to connect with readers. Learn more and sign up for her newsletter on her website at www.robinbielman.com. She can also be found online here: Facebook: www.facebook.com/RobinBielmanWriter.

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The only thing they have in common? Really...sharp...teeth.

Blood Mate.

2013 Mina Carter.

The Project Rebellion, Book 2.

Major Antonia Fielding has one goal: to escape the clutches of the Project. With the blood-virus infecting her system, though, a body bag is likely her only way out. Until her boss lets slip that he may just have a cure for her-if she brings in an escaped Lycan.

Can she trust him? Now there's the million-dollar question. Then again, can she afford not to take that chance?

Darce Foster was a Special Forces soldier, until the Project got hold of him. Now he's a Lycan, a lab-created werewolf, this close to escaping his creators-until another of the Project's experiments stops him in his tracks. Not because she has the power to hold him, but because he instantly recognizes the impossible. The vampiress is his mate.

Allowing her to bring him in is his only choice-and possibly the last mistake of his life.

Enemies or lovers, it doesn't matter. When they discover that the Project is hiding yet more secrets, they must work together to bring it down...or die in the attempt.

Warning: Contains a c.o.c.ky wolf who won't take no for an answer, an ice-queen losing her cool and a pack full of hunky werewolves bent on rescue. And zombie spidermen.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Blood Mate: He held the smile. For once, he and the animal were in perfect accord. She'd locked him down with silver, but it didn't mean he was going to stay that way. Not with the moon still in the sky and his mate within reach. While they'd talked, he'd worked the silver from his system. The metal beneath him was wet with tainted sweat. A little puddle under his a.s.s like he'd p.i.s.sed the stuff. Opening the connection to his wolf piece by piece, he let the creature free, using the strength and rage to galvanize his human frame.

"What do you mean, 'that's simple'?"

He finished the grin. The movement bared his teeth, revealing the lengthened canines behind his human lips. "Easy. I'm not locked down."

His words fell into stunned silence. Her eyes widened, her slight intake of breath a soft rasp in the air. Their gazes locked and tension spiraled as each waited for the other to move.

He saw it the moment she made her decision. A red sheen tainted the darkness of her eyes, flowing over the surface like oil over water. Man, that was some freaky c.r.a.p.

A bellow escaped his lips. He yanked on the cuffs. The silver-laced steel bit deep, slicing through his skin like an acid-dipped razor but he ignored the pain. Couldn't afford to let it slow him down.

Using momentum to snap the chain, he threw himself across the s.p.a.ce between them and reached for her. His arms opened wide to wrap her up in a solid tackle but, like him, she was already moving. With a grunt of surprise and anger, she twisted to the side, then rebounded off the metal interior to come right at him.

They met in the middle in a clash of bodies and tumbled, rolling across the truck-bed in a tangle of limbs. She fought like a wildcat. His vision filled with flying strands of dark hair and the flash of her teeth as she snarled. He winced, blocking like a demon while heavy blows rained down on his head and shoulders. Pain flared all over his body but he ignored it and fought through. Forced to protect his sides, his abdomen and his face, he ducked and turned, weaving before he went on the offensive, trying to trap her arms and pin her down.

The fight was close and fast as h.e.l.l. Despite her aggression and the sheer power behind her blows, he was tougher and bigger. A long, painful minute later he had her stretched out under him with her hands above her head. Still she fought, snapping at his face and neck with fangs that didn't look nearly so cute when they were threatening to take chunks out of him.

"Shhh...calm down."

He held on for grim death, throwing a heavy thigh over both of hers when she contorted and tried to knee him in the b.a.l.l.s. Sometimes being the opposite s.e.x in a down and dirty fight had its disadvantages, especially when you were the gender with the dangly bits. He was lucky she didn't have those sharp little fangs anywhere near his crotch. That was one blow-job he could well do without.

"Screw you."

She struggled against his hold again. She didn't...couldn't break free, not with the firm grip he had on her, but each heave she gave pressed them closer together. The truck aided him, rattling over potholes and jerking them about until she was jammed in the right angle between the floor and the wall. Every inch of her slender but curvy frame pressed tight against him.

"Believe me, doll. I'd love you to."

She froze again, her eyes widening as her struggles rubbed their lower bodies together and she clocked the erection hard against her stomach. His gaze caught hers, heat flowing between them. She dragged a shaky breath in over parted lips. His attention riveted on the pink temptation scant inches from him and he lowered his head, watching her every step of the way. Waiting for her to turn into a spitting cat again.

She didn't.

Instead, she watched him as if transfixed, her taut body strangely pliant under his, the soft curves and hollows fitting naturally against the hard musculature of his larger frame. A perfect fit. Like she'd been made to be held in his arms. A sense of familiarity, of coming home, a.s.saulted him and he knew he'd give up everything for a few moments in her embrace.

Her pink tongue darted out, wet her lips in unconscious invitation. He groaned. There was only so much temptation a man could take. He'd wanted to be soft, gentle...prove to her he wasn't an animal, but need rode him hard. Like a devil on his back, it scoured all softness from him until only l.u.s.t was left. The driving need to taste her, devour her, consumed him and he swooped down, claiming her lips in a hard kiss almost bruising in its intensity.

Unlike earlier, he didn't-couldn't-wait for her to soften.

Instead, he demanded and took, parting her lips with a hard sweep to sample the treasures within. Her taste exploded on his tongue, a heavenly combination of tart and sweet, fascinating his senses and totally indescribable. She tasted sublime. Ambrosia. If he died right now, he'd go having tasted a little piece of heaven itself.