Running Scared

His jaw bunched, but he didn’t look away. Nor did he deny it.



Grace slid her fingers down to the next button. It popped free and she opened her shirt enough that he could see the edge of her bra. It wasn’t fancy or lacy, but Torr didn’t seem to mind. He seemed more interested in what it covered.



She stepped closer and leaned forward. Her breasts weren’t huge, but they were big enough that she was used to men staring. She’d never liked it quite as much as she did right now, watching Torr’s pupils widen and his cheeks darken with desire.



He was getting into this, and heaven help her, so was Grace. She felt a small thrill of power course through her, but even more than that, a sense of victory. She could see it in his face. She’d won.



“One bite and the rest of the shirt comes off,” she coaxed.



“Fuck,” growled Torr. “You can’t do this to me.”



“I can and I am.” She forked up a bite of lasagna and put it to his lips. “Open wide.”



He gave her one angry glare before his eyes were drawn back to the vee of her shirt. Then he opened his mouth and ate the food she’d offered.



Good to her word, Grace freed the rest of the buttons and slid the fabric from her shoulders.



She thought it would make her feel dirty, or like some kind of whore, but instead, all she felt was relief. She’d gotten him to eat and that was what really mattered.



Torr watched her move, his face a mixture of anger and lust, and some desperate kind of hunger she’d never seen before.



He nodded to the tray of food and then his eyes fixed on hers. “More, Grace. I want more.”



Grace was down to her bra and panties when Torr finally came to his senses. It wasn’t easy, either, because she was built like his favorite wet dream. Her breasts were full and round, as were her hips, yet she still had a small waist that made him wish for his hands to work just long enough to feel her skin. All her soft curves reminded him of the women he’d lusted after in his youth, centuries ago, before magazines dictated how a woman was supposed to look. Her legs weren’t miles long, but they were just the right length to wrap around his hips and hold on tight while he thrust inside her.



Not that he was ever going to be that lucky. She was almost naked, standing in front of him, and his dick couldn’t be bothered to even notice, much less react. His mind was totally primed and ready to go, but his useless body just sat there, mocking him for his inability to act.



Angry regret hit him hard, and he wanted so much to let this fantasy play on—to let her finish what she’d started and make him feel like even a fraction of the man he’d once been.



But he couldn’t do this to her. She was too sweet and kind. She didn’t deserve to be turned into his whore.



And that was exactly what he was doing to her. He was forcing her to strip, paying her in meager bites of food. All because she didn’t want him to die.



“Enough,” he told her as she reached behind herself to unfasten her bra. “Stop.”



Grace stilled in that awkward position. “I won’t go back on my word, Torr.”



“I know. I want you to stop.”



A pretty blush slid over her skin, rising onto her cheeks. She tried to cover herself with her arms, as if she was suddenly ashamed of her beauty. “Why?”



“I can’t let you do this out of some sense of duty,” he told her. “It’s not fair to you.”



“Duty?”



“You feel like you owe me. You don’t. Please, put your clothes back on. I’ll eat.”



Torr had never seen anyone dress as fast as she did. If he’d had any question about whether or not she was doing this because she wanted to, he knew now she wasn’t. Not that he was surprised. Why the hell would anyone want to get naked with a cripple like him? Grace deserved a real man—one who could give her whatever she needed. One who could keep her safe from the Synestryn who wanted her blood.



She sat down between him and the tray of food. She was still blushing and she wouldn’t meet his gaze. Not that he blamed her after humiliating her like that.



“What would you like next?” she asked in a wavering voice.



“Ice cream,” he told her. He knew she didn’t have any on that tray and he wanted to give her an excuse to leave. He guessed she wouldn’t come back, either. She’d send someone else and he’d never see her again.



It was probably best that way. If she did come around again, he wouldn’t be able to think about anything but how beautiful she was standing in front of him, nearly naked. He’d think about it, and she’d see him thinking about it, and be embarrassed all over again. All that was left for them was awkwardness and he didn’t want that for her.



One way or another, he wasn’t going to live much longer. Eventually, Joseph would see there was no hope and give him his death. The less attached to Torr Grace was when he died, the better it would be for her.



“Okay,” she said. “I’ll, uh, be right back.”



“I’ll be here,” said Torr, knowing she had no intention of coming back ever again.



The man Drake sent to heal Zach was waiting for Lexi when she pulled up to the tiny house. Had Drake not been with her on the phone, giving her turn-by-turn directions, she never would have known anyone lived this far off the beaten path.



The house was run-down, tiny, maybe twenty feet along each wall and already brightly lit. Beside it was a black van, and on the cement steps leading into the house stood a tall, lean man. As Lexi turned, and the truck’s headlights hit his face, she got a good look at him.



He was gorgeous—the kind of man that made women stop thinking and start stripping. His pale eyes seemed to throw off bits of icy blue light as the headlights hit them. His mink brown hair was swept back from his wide forehead in an artful wave, and his long black leather trench coat waved slowly in the summer breeze. He started toward the truck before she’d finished parking, and his movements were smooth, almost glidingly graceful.



Lexi killed the engine just as he opened Zach’s door. “I’m Ronan,” he announced as he pressed his pale hand against Zach’s head and another against his bare chest. The large tree tattoo covering Zach from his left shoulder to somewhere well below his waistband seemed to sway as he breathed. The branches were bare from what Lexi could tell, and her mother’s journal had warned her to be wary of men marked like this. They were dangerous predators—killers walking around in human suits.



“I’m Lexi,” she told Ronan as she got out of the truck to help. As heavy as Zach was, Ronan was going to need her help now that he was totally out of it.



Ronan shifted Zach’s body to the edge of the seat.



“Drake said the Synestryn that injured him had quills. Is that right?”



“Yeah.”



“Do you know how many hit him?”



“Just one, I think. I don’t know if it’s still in there.”



Ronan nodded. “Let’s get him inside and check it out.” Then he lifted Zach out of the truck like he weighed nothing.



Sickening fear rose up in Lexi’s gut, making her suck in a breath. Ronan wasn’t human.



These people were not her friends. They’d killed her mother. They’d kidnapped Helen. They wanted her blood.



Ronan arched a perfect brow at her. “Open the door for me?” he asked.



Lexi shook herself and nodded. She had to play along. Pretend to be nice, unsuspecting prey. Right up to the point she triggered the detonator.



Then again, maybe just getting Helen and Miss Mabel out would be enough. Lexi wasn’t a killer or a soldier. She wanted no part of this war. All she wanted was to be left alone in peace.



Of course, to get that peace—to earn it for all of the humans out there who had no idea what was really going on—she had to kill those who hunted her. If she was ever going to be free to stop running, she had to make a stand. It shouldn’t matter to her that her enemies were gorgeous men who pretended they wanted her to be safe. It was all just an act.



Wasn’t it?



I just think you might have gotten some wrong ideas about these people somewhere along the line.



That was what Helen had said. She seemed sure that Lexi was the one who was wrong, and she’d been living with them for more than a month.



But what about Mom’s journal? What about all those lessons about how the Sentinels used humans for sport and food? Mom had seemed sure, too.



Lexi wished she could say the same.



“Are you squeamish?” asked Ronan. He had a rich, deep voice—cultured, like he’d been raised outside of the States, or in some fancy boarding school.



“Not particularly.”



“Good. I’m going to need your help.” He laid Zach down on the only bed in the house.



“Sure. Need me to get something out of your van? Medical stuff?” she asked. All she needed was his keys and she was out of here.



Ronan looked up at her, his gaze so intense, she felt like he’d taken hold of her face and wasn’t letting go. “Do you think I’m a fool?” he asked.



“Because I’m offering to help?”



He stood, towering over her. Lexi was used to it, and refused to feel intimidated. As far as she was concerned, being shorter only meant it was easier to reach out and twist his balls, leaving him in a heap on the floor.



“I know who you are, Lexi Johns. Everyone does. Zach has been chasing you for weeks. I’m not going to let you flee and have him coming after me when he wakes.”



Busted. Time for plan B. All she had to do was come up with it. “So he will wake up.”



“It depends.”



“On what?”



“On whether it was one or two quills that hit him.”



That news left Lexi reeling. “Are you saying that’s all the difference there is between him living and dying?”



“That, and my intervention.”



“Then what the hell are you waiting for? Doctor him already.”



“Not until I know you’ll stay put while I do.” He gave her a small smile—one that made him so pretty, she forgot to breathe. “Shall I bind you physically, or would you prefer to give me your vow to stay here?”



Lexi took an involuntary step back. The idea of him tying her up or locking her in a closet made her sick. “I’m not letting you touch me.”



“Then give me your word you’ll stay here until I’m gone, and not try to run.”



“Sure,” she lied, just to get him to back off. “I’ll stay.”



When she felt a sudden pressure fall upon her body, pinning her in place, she realized her mistake.



Never promise them anything. They can bind you to their will.



Her mother had warned her and she hadn’t listened. Now it was too late.



Ronan’s smile widened. “First time making a promise to one of your own kind?” he asked.



Lexi couldn’t respond. She felt trapped and helpless. She wasn’t like them. She was human.



“Don’t worry,” said Ronan. “It gets easier.”



Lexi seriously doubted it.



“Fix him,” she said through clenched teeth.