Chapter Eleven
As promised before her bath, he returned after just over an hour. She’d found him staring pensively at the boxes in her dining room upon her descent.
Whatever doom and gloom he’d found outside of the house vanished when he glanced at her. The electric sizzle of connection when their gazes met energized her.
“You look good,” he’d said, but it was with more than the affection in his tone. It was the way his eyes seemed to kindle with renewed vigor, and how his mouth softened. More, the compliment resonated with the way his shoulders straightened and he stood taller.
Her heart gave her a swift donkey kick in the ribs. “Thank you, all I need are the boots.” A button-down chambray shirt over a white tank top and a denim miniskirt made up the rest of her outfit. She held a pair of socks in her hands, her feet bare.
“Now I have an image of you in just the boots, riding me.” Not bothering to disguise his hunger, Cage roved his gaze over her, and her abdomen tightened at the suggestion. The bath had worked wonders, eased her muscle soreness and melted away her stress.
Leaning against the stair railing, she stared into his mischievous expression. “That could happen…after we get the boots.” Excitement curled through her; the idea of dancing appealed to her on many levels. More, she wanted the time with Cage. During her bath, she’d begun to question his perfection. No one was perfect, and their flaws often made them even more human and adorable.
Extending his hand, his smile grew. “Then by all means, let’s go buy you some boots.”
She wore a pair of flats for the ride to the boot store. Cage didn’t even have to look up directions; apparently, he’d meant it when he’d said he knew Austin. The kernel of truth in his personal information helped ease the unfair trepidation in her gut. The boot store turned out to be great fun, and the salesman identified the exact kind of red boots she wanted.
With Cage hovering protectively, she tried on three different pairs. The last were ideal, and comfortable. Luckily, the bruises on her feet seemed to have healed. Even better, the one on her face faded to the point some light cosmetics covered it. Not having the salesman stare in pity did wonders for her mood.
Thanks to her new boots, she indulged in a strut on the way back out to Cage’s truck. The sun continued to shine; the days were already longer in the Lone Star State. Between the warm sun, the new boots, and Cage’s strong hand on the small of her back, she felt…sexy. And free. When was the last time she’d been in this kind of a mood? Sure, she could pack sandbags, dig fire breaks, work construction to rebuild homes, or sort through the rubble looking for survivors…but having a good time just for the sheer fun of it?
“You’re in a mood,” Cage said as he opened the passenger door of his truck.
Pivoting, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Not even the bandage on her wrist could detract from the wildness coiling within her. This close, she could almost taste Cage on her lips. Maybe it was her imagination, but with every deep breath, it was as though she filled her lungs with the distinctly bold aroma—an aroma that was all Cage.
“I’m happy,” she admitted, then rose to press her lips to his. He met her halfway, his mouth massaging hers and setting her blood on fire. How long they stood there, clasped in their embrace, she had no idea, but when he finally pulled away, he drew out her lower lip. The light scrape of his teeth on her flesh sent a ripple of sensation to tighten her nipples and a pulse to her sex.
“We can go home…” he suggested, and as eager as she was to strip him down and ride him—boots on and all—she craved the idea of dancing.
“Later. You promised me dancing.” Anticipation twisted through her, amping her spirits until she felt as though she vibrated.
“Yes, I did.” His expression gentled, the fullness of his sumptuous mouth curving. The man really did have devastating her senses down to an art. “As the lady wishes,” he continued, then opened the door. She didn’t even have to climb inside; he set his hands on her hips and lifted her.
“You’re ridiculously strong,” she told him, tipsy from his nearness.
A light snort escaped him, and he traced a finger from her midsection to between her breasts, then to her chin. “No,” he told her. But despite the earnestness, she didn’t believe him. She knew exactly how much she weighed. “You’re as light as a feather.”
“Are we playing a trust game?” They’d done that in college. She had far more faith in Cage than she ever had in her roommates.
Canting his head, he studied her, and the canine cuteness damn near punched her in the chest. “What’s the trust game?”
“Light as a feather, stiff as a board?” Great, the words spilled out of her as she babbled. “You lay stiff on the ground and trust the others around you to lift you without moving…” It was more than a trust game; it was a crazy play on magic. Magic, which wasn’t real…or was it?
The way Cage made her feel was damn magical.
“I’d play any game with you,” he said, his voice a delicious promise and a fresh wave of anticipation shivered over her. “But you want to go dancing.”
Licking her lips, she didn’t miss the way his gaze zeroed in on her mouth. With one hand, she spread her fingers over his chest where his heart beat. The steady thumping echoed the cadence of her own. “Thank you for a great night.”
“We’re only getting started.” Covering her hand with his, he leaned in and pressed another kiss to her lips. The sizzle turned sweet, and it squeezed all the air from her chest. Leaning away, he pulled the seatbelt down and clicked it into place.
The sense of being absolutely cherished wound around her and extinguished her earlier doubts. Cage gave her a wink and strode around the truck. Watching him move fed an entirely different kind of need within her. A need she could barely label, but he was the only one who could satisfy it. No doubt existed within her on that certainty.
When Cage mentioned taking her dancing, she hadn’t realized he meant a genuine honky tonk, two-stepping bar steeped in cowboy culture and Western ethos. She loved it. The air smelled of sawdust with notes of tobacco, seared meat, alcohol, and sweat—not the unpleasant kind, but the musky promise of fun.
Though it was the tail end of happy hour, the crowd didn’t look like they intended to thin at any moment. Cage interlaced his fingers with hers as they made their way toward an empty table on the far side of the dance floor. A pair of men, beers in hand, weaved toward the same table. Arriving at exactly the same time, Bianca opened her mouth to suggest they just head to the bar, but Cage didn’t move.
Instead, he locked gazes with the bigger of the two men. They must have communicated in some secret guy code because the pair froze for a long moment then retreated.
“Wow,” she said on an exhale, but she didn’t think Cage could hear her over the din. Garth Brooks sang about friends in low places, and conversations rose and fell amid the clatter of dishes, laughter, and free-flowing booze.
Once she sat, she crossed one leg over the other. Cage didn’t move around to the other chair. Instead, he set a hand on her bare thigh. “Nothing to wow about. Drinks, food, dance? What’s your pleasure?” He had to lean into her, but even with all the noise, she could hear him clear as day.
“You’re definitely my pleasure, but I’d love an Angry Balls if they have it.” It had been a long time since she’d had cinnamon whiskey or a hard cider, so together sounded fun. “Water and then maybe a platter of absolutely bad for us greasy food to share?”
“You got it.” With a light squeeze to her thigh, he gave her another kiss. “Don’t move.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” As he turned, she added, “Not when I get to watch you walking away and admire the view.”
His bark of laughter carried easily, and she grinned. Though, she hadn’t been lying. She tracked him as he walked to the bar. The music changed, and more dancers flowed onto the floor. Twisting, she leaned against the back of her chair to watch them move. This was what her life had been missing. Sure, she’d danced around a bonfire with natives in Papua, New Guinea, enjoyed folk dancing in Thailand, and even been riveted by a story teller in the Eastern Anatolia mountains of Turkey. They were all awesome, but surrounded by businessmen, students, blue-collar workers, and more as they enjoyed a Friday night escape?
Exotic yet homey.
By the time Cage rejoined her, she tapped her foot in time to the music and giddiness flowed through her blood. He set her drink in front of her, along with a glass of water.
“You ready to dance, gorgeous?” Cage asked as the music shifted.
“Not sure I know how to do that.” She pointed to the dancers who’d switched from partners to line dancing.
“No?” He took a long swallow of his drink, then slid away from the table and sauntered onto the dance floor. Flowing with an innate grace, he fell into the line with the others. With wonder, she watched him slip his thumbs into his belt loops as he stepped, kicked, and rolled his hips. Clapping her hands together, she laughed at how well he moved. When the first song segued to the next he held his hand out to her.
Trepidation gripped her. She lacked his elegance. “I don’t know…”
“Trust me, babe. You can do this.” He curled his fingers in invitation, and she stood, slipped her purse strap over her shoulder and across her body before joining him. The dancers were already going, but Cage put her in front of him, his hands on her hips. “Ready?”
“Yes.” She laughed, and then he said the steps aloud as his hands on her hips guided her.
“Right foot forward, then back. Right heel forward, tap twice, and back. Hop, then slide…” Laughter bubbled through her with every mistake, but Cage was a patient teacher. After three rounds, they took a break back at the table and she drained her water before reaching for the alcohol. Their food arrived, then the music shifted again. Cage caught her hand and spun her out onto the dance floor.
In his arms, she felt powerful and the movements effortless. Her beautiful partner didn’t lack for attention, though, even when she had to plead exhaustion to sit. Women around the bar sized him up, more than one flaunted her assets to get his attention. To her amazement, he barely noticed them beyond what was required for politeness—such as when the waitress brought them fresh drinks and bent enough to give him an eyeful. His gaze never dipped.
Not once.
Delight mingled with trepidation in her gut. He was being perfect again.
“You’re worrying again,” he said, catching her hand on the table. They’d both switched to just water after their second drinks. Between the dancing and the food, she kept her intoxication focused on one source—Cage.
“I’m having fun,” she promised him. Then, rather than spoil the night with her worries about his faultless behavior, she added, “But I’m ready to get out of here.”
She didn’t have to tell him twice. He peeled off a few bills to pay for dinner, and they made their way through the crowded bar and outside. The air was cooler after the heat and the dancing. The rush flooded her system; she was high on life. The ride back to her house flew by, then he lifted her out of the truck and her arms were around him. They kissed their way to the door, then inside. Somehow, Cage managed to punch in her alarm code even as they fought to strip each other.
Every step toward her bedroom resulted in another discarded piece of clothing. Halfway up the steps, she got his shirt open. Ravenous, she licked, kissed, and nipped her way across his beautiful flesh. Grazing her teeth against his nipple elicited a rumble in his chest. The vibration reminded her of a growl, and it wasn’t the first one.
Adoring the sound, she teased his nipple even as she stroked her hands down to his hips. They arrived at her bedroom door as she flicked open his jeans and freed the zipper. At the bed, his jeans hit the floor and left him raw, vulnerable, and hot. His cock jutted toward her, and she teased the tip with her finger, then drew along the vein on the underside of his thick erection.
His breath hissed and another growl rumbled in his chest. They hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights. Leaning to the right, he located the box of condoms next to the bed then straightened, holding the slim foil toward her.
Giving him a light shove, she pushed him onto the bed and she crawled over him.
“I still have the boots on,” she reminded him, wildly aware of them. Her breasts teased his thighs and she dipped her head to kiss the cock she’d been teasing. His growl punched through the air as she locked her lips around the tip.
They’d get to the condom, eventually. She was desperate for the sensations of touching him, teasing him, feeling him stiffen beneath her lips and hands. The saltiness of his skin, and the indefinable taste that was simply Cage—she hungered for his pleasure. Sucking him deep against her lips, she let him bump against the back of her throat.
A thread of desire unfurled inside of her, like a sparkler going off. Heat scorched her, and she repeated the motion. The push and pull, sucking him deep and using her hand to caress and control him. The muscles in his abdomen rippled and his thighs tightened. She soaked in every reaction, varying her pace. When he threaded his fingers through her hair and began to guide her, she groaned.
The vibration provoked his snarl. The sharp demand of his possessiveness sent a tremor through her sex, and the taste of him wasn’t enough. She wanted more. Raising her head, she whispered, “Cage…” Need held her in a viselike grip. Her nipples ached, her sex slicked with need, and her inner walls tightened, desperate to grip him inside of her.
Foil ripped, and his hands replaced hers as he rolled the condom on. Then his hands came to her hips and she held his cock steady as he guided her into place. When his tip brushed her entrance they both hissed, and he gave her hips a squeeze as she sank down. They didn’t slow, and she took him to the hilt.
Opening her eyes, she found his amber gaze staring up at her, the moonlight draping him in silver and shadow. He lifted her and she began to ride him, every stroke pushing deeper into her.
Slow, erotic, wild. When she thought she might explode from the tension, he rolled her onto her back and began to pound into her. She clung to him, digging her nails into his shoulders, and when the first orgasm hit her, she cried out—and the pleasure left her shattered.
…
Somehow, Cage survived the dance across the line from raw lust to pure lovemaking. They drifted together, her body wrapped around his. At some point, she stirred, and he shifted her so he could remove her boots. The sexy red numbers were the best purchase he’d ever made. Dressing Bianca in all leather held a certain appeal. She sprawled on the bed, her arms spread in abandon.
The spill of her dark brown hair fell like a spray of autumn against the pillows. Though she hadn’t washed away her cosmetics, she’d worn them sparingly. Her cheek had healed, the bruise faded to near nothingness. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he trailed a light finger against her cheek. Eight days—and the swollen tissue damage vanished. The cuts and scrapes along her legs faded to pale pink or white stripes against the sun-kissed skin.
The pretty red-painted toenails teased him. Her feet were no longer discolored by black or blue. Even the scrapes on them had disappeared. His wolf stirred within him, and his gaze went to her bandaged wrist.
Her deep, regular breathing promised him her sleep remained undisturbed. An aching sensation cracked open in his gut, and he reached for her wrist. It was time to confront his actions. The choices he’d made—the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. Stop delaying…
The bracing mental order didn’t make it any easier. He’d just touched her wrist when the buzzing of the phone in his pocket alerted him to a text message. Wanting to ignore it flew in the face of his duty, though. Especially not after his conversation with Jax earlier.
Leaving her to sleep, he rose and dug his phone out. The message was short and to the point.
We have a location. Head to JBSA, flight will bring you to meet us. Deploying in ten hours.
Ten hours.
He had no time to waste. Gripping the phone, he glanced at Bianca. Getting Al Fakir was damn important, and so was she. He could get the mission done, then return before anything changed. Two days, three tops. They could make it work.
Wolf clawing at him, Cage typed in a fast response. On it.
Jax said nothing else, but then, Cage didn’t expect the captain to follow up. He’d given an order, and Cage acknowledged. That was all that was required of him. Still, he didn’t move from where he stood next to her bed. Bianca hadn’t moved, nor did her breathing change. She remained blissfully unaware of his impending departure.
Leaving her a note would be the simplest way to minimize any potential objections to his trip. It’s also the coward’s way out. As much as he hated the idea of washing off her scent, he needed a shower and change. Chances were the guys would bring his gear, and he wouldn’t have time to clean up before the mission.
Fifteen minutes later and dressed, he returned to the bed and cradled her cheek with one hand. Light strokes of his thumb against her skin had her eyes fluttering, then finally her lids opened.
“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured, regret twisting in his chest.
“Hey…” she said, a yawn drawing out the word. A frown tightened the line between her eyebrows. “Why are you dressed?”
“I got recalled,” he told her, keeping it succinct. “I gotta catch a plane. It could be a few days before I get back.”
Disappointment curved along her scent. Her dissatisfaction left a bitter tang on the back of his tongue. “I thought you were on leave.”
“I was,” he said, stroking her cheekbone in apology. “It also means they can recall me when there’s a need.” Not waiting for her to ask, he continued. “There is a need, and I can’t tell you—it’s classified. I added a couple of backup numbers for me in your phone, and I put my father’s number in there.” He’d considered that one at length, but he couldn’t leave her hanging.
“Your father?” Awareness flooded her expression chasing away the dregs of sleep. “Why would I need your father’s information?”
“His name is Reuben Castillo. He’s tough, but he will help if you need it.” His wolf raked his claws along the inside of his skin, the snap and snarl of the animal’s discontent burning in his gut.
“Why would I need…? You know, I’m too tired to figure that out. I’m going to deposit this into the category of you being too protective…” She sat up and looped an arm around his neck. Warmth and satiny softness embraced him, and he slid his arms around her and held her close. Filling his lungs with her scent, he committed it to memory.
Not likely he would ever make the mistake of not recognizing her.
“Be safe,” she whispered against his ear and he smiled.
“I’ll be fine,” he told her, the promise easy to offer. “Don’t overdo it while I’m gone. Save me some chores.”
Laughing, she leaned back, and for a moment, the moonlight glittered on the sheen of tears in her eyes. The wrench to his heart left an aching hole in the center of his chest.
“I’m going to miss you.” The simple sentiment snapped like the jaws of a trap, lancing deep. “But not if you don’t get out of here.”
A shock of humor chased away the shadows, and he grinned. Gripping her nape, he covered her mouth with a firm, hot kiss—as much to commit her touch to memory as impressing his on hers. Forcing himself to release her, he said, “Stay in bed. I’ll turn on the security system. And Bianca, I mean it—if anything comes up and you need help, call my dad. He will help you.”
Then he made himself go, the sultry image of her burned into his mind. Though he’d spent most of the last week in Bianca’s house, his go bag remained in the truck. Even as he made sure her security system was engaged then let himself out and locked the door, he felt like he left with less than he’d arrived. Once in his truck, his gaze went to the upstairs windows.
He could have sworn his wolf’s whining complaint echoed throughout his soul. “We’ll be back,” he promised his beast as much as himself. “We have a job to do—then we’ll be back.”
Not giving the animal any time to lodge objections, Cage got the truck started and backed out onto the darkened street. All the way to San Antonio, he had to repeat the refrain until his wolf finally accepted they weren’t going to turn around and return to Bianca.
Not yet.
His phone vibrated twice more on the drive, updates from the team. As he checked into base, an airman pulled up in a Jeep at the opposite side. He waited as Cage’s credentials were verified. As soon as the guard cleared him to enter, the airman jogged over. “Sergeant Castillo, if you don’t mind turning your keys over to the guard, we’ll make sure your vehicle is stored. Plane is on the tarmac, sir.”
Cage didn’t hesitate. He put the truck in park, handed his keys to the MP, then grabbed his go bag. “Lead the way, Airman.”
Fifteen minutes later, he sat buckled into the jump seat as the plane hurtled down the runway. Once in the air, he checked the messages on his phone. Shorthand detailed key intel, two messages from Jax with the third from Kat. Apparently, she’d been able to confirm the reports. He wasn’t going to the Edge; the plane he was on now would get him as far as Anacosta. From there, he’d take a COD aircraft and meet the team aboard an aircraft carrier heading toward the Persian Gulf.
A familiar hopscotch path, since they were working against a tight timetable. As soon as he landed, they’d board another flight. No room for error. Even if Al Fakir moved before they arrived, they had a distinct advantage. They knew where he’d been, which meant they could catch his scent.
The hard, overland travel and the likelihood of shifting to follow the trail meant Kat would remain aboard the ship to continue sifting through intel. Though vital in the role she played, Jax’s mate was still human. She’d done ops with them before, but Cage highly doubted this would be one.
As briefed as he would be for now, he leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, trained to take advantage of rest whenever it presented itself. He regulated his breathing but found true slumber elusive. Sleeping sitting up was not new to him. Not being able to shake the image of Bianca from his mind was.
By the time he stepped from the COD to the flight deck, his eyes were gritty and his temper was jagged. Jax stood near the hatchway, waiting.
Cage slowed, then saluted. His wolf’s agitation settled under the captain’s steady gaze. Jax gave him a beat before returning his salute. Then he extended a hand; the quick clasp spoke to their wolves, reaffirmed the connection. Jax led because he possessed the strength and won the right, along with their respect.
“You ready for this?” The question held no judgment, just a patient request for honesty.
“I will be. Briefing?”
“In ten. Get changed and meet us in Wardroom Two. XOs gave us a couple of hours to square everything.”
Cage nodded, then tapped his captain’s shoulder with a fist before heading in to change. The closed fist to his shoulder acknowledged the captain’s trust, but more, showed the captain’s trust in him. Nine minutes later, he strode into the Wardroom where the team waited.
Silver whistled. “Last one to the party gets to buy the drinks.”
Snorting, Cage dropped into a chair. “Find me a beer on board, and I’ll buy it.”
Laughter rippled around the room. The other wolves present represented their packs as much as Cage represented his, but more than that—they were his friends, his team, and his pack away from pack as it were.
“Sit down and shut up,” Jax said without preamble. “We’ll give Cage shit about his vacation later when Kat is here to enjoy it. She’s on the Signal Bridge, but let’s do this…”
A map appeared on the wall, and Jax gave them a breakdown of the target, the terrain, and the tactics they would employ. They were going deep into tribal-held mountains, no backup, no air support, and a chance for a long-running battle.
“The objectives are clear. We’re not taking prisoners—we need clean, verified kills. If we pick up any intel along the way, then you’ll get a cookie.” Finished, the captain braced his palms on the table. “We’re going in, we’re getting this done, and we’re going home. Clear?”
“Oorah.”
They had a real hunt in front of them, and his wolf stretched within him. Kill the bad guys, go home—to Bianca.