CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The truth of the matter burned straight to his soul. Anger formed, and Sterling embraced it, easier to face than the pain spiraling inside him. Becca had deceived him, let him torment himself over her death. “What’s your agenda, Becca?”
She took a step toward him, and he let her, grabbing her and pulling her hard against his body. And damn her if those soft sensual curves didn’t make his cock thick with desire. But then, if she was fucking him, why shouldn’t he fuck her?
“Are you working for Adam?” he demanded, his mouth close to hers, hungry to taste the bitterness of lies on her lips, to embrace them and try to get over her. “He found out we were Lifebonds? Or you found out. It all makes sense now. That’s why you weren’t afraid to wind-walk. Why not just do the blood exchange, Becca? Why not trick me? Or was the opportunity just not there, so you had to continue to manipulate me?”
“What?” she gasped. “Sterling, no. Why would you think that?”
“Why else would a woman who is dying not tell the man who could save her life to do it? Why? It makes no sense.”
“I had opportunity,” she whispered hoarsely. “I was bleeding in the lab. I could have tricked you. But I did everything to avoid you.”
“Don’t lie,” he said in a low growl, pressing his mouth to her ear. “We both know the blood exchange doesn’t happen that easily. Stop playing me.” He pulled back, fixed her with a steely, contemptuous look. “I don’t like it.”
“And I don’t like you very much right now,” she said, her chin tilting up defiantly, her lips quivering. “How would I know that?” Then suddenly her bravado melted into tears, the kind of tears someone dying sheds, the kind of tears, he realized, she’d never allowed herself since he’d known her.
“This isn’t like giving me one of your kidneys and you keeping the other, and statistically, you’re fine. This is forever, Sterling. How was I supposed to expect you to give me that when you barely even knew me? When you might have found out you didn’t even like me? When it would have been pity and guilt, not love.”
It was his turn to melt, into her, around her. “Becca,” he whispered, thumbing away the dampness on her cheeks. “Baby, I’m sorry.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m so sorry. Tonight…Eddie…you—my inability to save either of you…it’s been eating me alive.”
“I was going to tell you,” she said. “I just needed to know…” Her breath hitched. “I needed to know—”
“That I love you and can’t live without you?”
Her hand rested on his chest. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Well, I do,” he said. “And I can’t. And I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing for either one of us.”
She swallowed, her delicate throat bobbing with the action. “So…I was right to worry. You don’t want this.”
He buried his face in her neck, breathed in her flowery, feminine scent. “God yes, I want this. I just don’t know how, Becca.”
“I don’t understand. Sterling.” Her hands were in his hair, forcing him to look at her. She searched his face, trepidation in her own. “You’re confusing me.”
He forced his gaze to hers, and he knew the stark desperation that must be there. But he couldn’t make it go away. He couldn’t tear through the torment. “I take risks, Becca. I don’t stop. I don’t think. I just act. And I save lives doing it. But that has been my life I was gambling with, no one else’s.”
“You mean mine,” she said, her hand curling on his chest. “We don’t have to do this.”
“Of course we’re doing this,” he said roughly and kissed her. She tried to object, and he kissed her again. “We’re doing this.”
He scooped her up and carried her to the bed, spreading her legs as he did to settle intimately between them. Her dark hair spread on the ivory pillow. God…she was beautiful. She was his.
Resting his weight on his elbows, he declared, “We live together, and we die together. And we’ll save lives together.” He reached over and yanked open the bedside table and snatched up a pocketknife. “Starting now.”
“No!” she said, closing her hand over it. “Not now.”
“Becca, baby,” he pleaded. “Forget what I said. I was just scared.” Sterling inhaled against the impact of the admission, his gaze traveling to the ceiling as he regained composure. He leveled her in a stare and let her see the truth in his eyes. “I’ve not been scared in years. But I haven’t been this alive either. I want this, Becca. I’ll deal with the rest.”
“You have time to think about it,” she said. “We can’t do anything until after we catch Dorian.”
“What does Dorian have to do with this?”
“One of us has to survive to keep fighting.”
“Oh no,” he insisted. “Live and die together. No negotiations on this. You’ll be stronger and safer linked to me anyway.”
“And if the Lifebonding somehow changes me? If Dorian can tell I’m different, and he doesn’t see me as bait anymore? Or my ability is gone. Or my mind reads different somehow. We can’t risk the lives that will be lost if we don’t capture him. We can’t.”
A vice closed around Sterling’s chest because he didn’t want her to be right. But she was. Millions of lives were in jeopardy as long as ICE manufacturing existed. The free world was hanging by a string, ready to be snapped by Adam. His world crumbled around him as he realized…he might still lose Becca. He’d never felt so confused, so emotional, in his life.
He whispered her name and parted her legs, pressing deep inside her, becoming a part of her in the only way he could. Bond or no bond, she was his. She was in his soul, his heart. If she died, he’d be destroyed. He would die with her.
Becca woke in a warm, dark tunnel of sleep. Real sleep. The first she’d truly allowed herself in days—on her stomach and naked. A slow smile slid onto her lips as she thought of the many things she had done with Sterling. There were all kinds of reasons to be worried, concerned, and upset. But in that few seconds, she allowed herself to be something she had not been in months. Happy and in love. If she was going to die, she was going to do it as one satisfied, pleasured woman.
She pushed herself up on her hands, realizing the master of that pleasure was missing. Frowning at the muffled, but distinct sound of male voices from the living room, she quickly found a pair of soft, faded jeans and a T-shirt, passing on shoes out of urgent curiosity about what was going on. After a brief glimpse at her feet and her pale toenails, she wondered how a hot bath and bottle of red toenail polish had ever felt anything but adolescent and self-indulgent.
She opened the door as Sterling was saying, “I handed Becca to you.”
“You handed Becca to Tad,” Damion countered.
“We’ve been through this,” Michael said. “What are we proving by beating this dead horse? You both saw something different.”
“Tad wasn’t Tad,” Sterling said. “Eddie wasn’t Eddie.”
“Who the hell else could Eddie be, but flipping Eddie?” Michael asked roughly.
Becca had a sudden recall of Sterling’s memory, of him handing Becca to Damion. She understood now. He’d handed her to Damion, and then…Damion had simply become Tad. She launched into action, bringing the room into full view, stopping behind the couch. Michael leaned against the wall across from her. Caleb sat on the black leather chair to her right. Damion, in the one to her left, looked fully healed from his injuries. Sterling stood in the center of it all.
Curling her fingers into the couch cushion, she steeled herself for the reaction she knew the insanity of her words were sure to bring and said them, “What if Eddie was Tad? What if he can become whoever he wants to become?”
“I’m sorry,” Damion said. “But this isn’t the answer. It can’t be. I saw Sterling hand you to Tad. We couldn’t have seen two different people at once. Sterling was delirious, shot up with Green Hornets or drugged. Maybe the Zs have some sort of hallucinogenic they are using.”
Sterling whirled on him. “What if he shifted as I handed Becca over?”
Damion’s lips thinned. “The timing had to have been perfect, right as I rounded the corner, but I guess in the world we live in, anything is possible.” His brows dipped, his gaze locked on Sterling. “So you finally believe me? You don’t think I handed Becca over to Tad?”
“I believe you,” Sterling said.
Damion gave him a stunned look and nodded.
“You’re back to trusting each other,” Caleb said. “Good. And whether it was a shifter or a hallucinogenic, we need to operate as if nothing is as it seems and watch our backsides. Stack that on the pile with our other problems, the biggest being, how do we get to Dorian?”
Sterling’s eyes met Becca’s with stark despair. “Becca,” he said solemnly, his voice sounding forced. “Becca is still the answer. They want her. We have to find a way to give her to them, but not to Tad. We have to make sure Adam believes he has to come for her himself. Seek out Adam’s soldiers, and have Becca present when they go down. We kill them. Adam hates losing manpower because it forces him to use the limited serum he has to maintain his army.”
“One step further,” Michael said. “We target Tad. Take him out of the picture.” His words firmed. “I say Tad has to die. If Becca can be the one to pull the trigger—even better.”
Feeling quite the Madame in a slinky turquoise dress that contrasted her red hair and hugged her curves in all the right places, Sabrina exited the elevator of Magnolia and headed to the executive office where Tad—masquerading as Marcus—waited for her.
Their plan was back on—she would be pivotal in delivering Rebecca Burns to her death. She would play the role of the Madame, afraid for her life because she was double-crossing Iceman. She’d find her way into the Renegades’ operation close to Rebecca Burns and kill her. It was perfect. Sabrina couldn’t be happier that Tad’s plan the night before had failed. Now she would shine, show how valuable she could be, ensure she became Tad’s Lifebond, and mark her territory inside Zodius City. There she’d be treated like royalty, as he’d promised. She was tired of bending over for the world, chasing money and men, struggling to pay bills. She’d thought Iceman was her trip out of hell. He talked all kinds of world domination crap and then fell flat on his face. She wanted to be where the real power existed.
Plush carpet beneath her heels, Sabrina knocked on the door. When it opened, she strutted into the office of fine mahogany with expensive art in carefully placed positions, a sultry smile painted on her red lips, which faded with a shocking discovery. Marcus was sitting in his office chair, gagged and bound. Alive.
She whirled to face Tad, and despite her shock about Marcus, she didn’t miss the hotness of him all decked out in leather, looking like a mean fighting machine. He wasn’t handsome, not even close. But he was lethal—rough in all the right ways.
“I thought you’d killed him,” she said.
“Tossed some ICE down his throat and saved him,” Tad said. “He’s a present for Adam. Adam’s enemies are fed to his wolves in front of the city—eaten alive. Makes for an interesting night of entertainment.”
Even Sabrina, as cold a bitch as she knew she could be, felt a wave of nausea with that image. Marcus—formerly her powerful, vital Iceman—made wild animal-like sounds behind her. He was desperate. She didn’t blame him. Dead was better than being puppy chow any day.
Tad moved to the desk and leaned on the edge, his back to Marcus, who fought uselessly against his bindings.
She sashayed toward him. “So what’s the plan?”
“We’re going to give Adam what he wants, his traitor, gagged and bound. The answer to why people have been dying. Mass distribution of ICE. Control of this casino and those connected.”
She sidled up next to him, and he pulled her hard between his legs. “I did exactly what the Renegades believed I wouldn’t do.” He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her mouth to his, slicing his tongue along hers, his lust branding her, as it soon would his enemy. And she was going to be there for the show.