Dangerous Protector (Federal Paranormal Unit) Read online

  “Oh!” The gasp tore from her throat at the same time he pulled back and plunged in.

  He kissed her lips, her jaw, her neck, licking repeatedly at the bend connecting her neck and throat.

  “Cyn,” he growled.

  “James. God. James, I missed you so much,” she panted out between thrusts. Lord how amazing it felt to have him sliding in and out of her, heating her insides with his own body.

  “Not. Letting. You. Go,” he snarled.

  That wasn’t his choice to make. Now wasn’t the time to debate it, though. Her body sizzled with the onslaught of pleasure from each punishing drive.

  “James…”

  “Tell me you’re mine, Cyn.”

  God, yes. She was always going to be his.

  “Say the words, love.”

  Her chest compressed. Liquid fire flooded her veins. She clung to him, gripping his slick shoulders tight. He bit his palms bit into her ass cheeks and squeezed.

  “I…”

  Another moan tore from her throat when he increased speed. He slammed his rock-hard cock into her. Again and again. She opened willingly. Taking everything he wanted to give. Each sound his body made slamming against her, every groan and growl he let out with each lick by her neck became an instant memory. All of it. She wouldn’t ever forget it. They would be what would carry her forth later.

  “Tell me,” he ordered.

  His teeth grazed the thudding pulse at the base of her neck. “If you don’t tell me you’re mine, I’ll stop fucking you here and now.”

  What? No! Instead of answering him, she yanked on his hair until he met her gaze. His eyes were glowing red with a rim of black. Both his beasts sat just below the surface. It was dangerous and hot as hell.

  Their lips meshed in a hot, tongue-tangling kiss. Oh how the man kissed, combining his thrusts into her mouth with the ones into her sex. He swept into her mouth and owned her. He kicked down every one of the flimsy barriers around her heart and proceeded to claim her in one fell swoop.

  He thrust harder. Harder still, and slipped a hand between their slick bodies, down to her pussy, and pressed on her pleasure nub. Goose bumps broke over her skin. Her blood scorched her veins. The tension in her core broke, shattering into a million fragments of lights behind her lids.

  She screamed into their kiss. Her pussy gripped tight at his cock, contracting against his driving shaft. Pleasure cascaded through each of her limbs. She tore her mouth away from him, gasping air into her burning lungs. She rode the hedonistic wave of desire until she could catch her breath.

  “Fuck!” he snarled, pulling away from her.

  With her mind still reeling from the unbelievable orgasm, she was caught off guard when he pulled from inside her and took a handful of steps to drape her over one of the large arms to her new sofa. She lay there, still shuddering with the force of her release. He leaned over her, and instinct drove her movements. She pressed her ass up, looking for his stiff erection. He spread her legs and pushed his way into her again.

  “James, please…” She wasn’t sure what she was asking for, but him being all hard and thick in her pussy without moving, wasn’t right. It wasn’t enough.

  “Say you’re mine.”

  His voice floated across her neck, heating every pore it touched.

  He propelled back, almost pulling fully out, and then pressed in again—slowly. Too slowly.

  “Don’t stop,” she panted, nails curling into one of the flowery sofa cushions.

  He pressed kisses over the back of her shoulder, licking the area in circles. She didn’t know that was an erogenous zone, but it had to be. Her body started to shiver with each swipe of his tongue. Tension mounted at her core.

  “I’m not moving until you say you’re mine.”

  “Fuckin’ hell!” She growled, frustrated at his lack of movement. “Yes! I’m yours. I’ll always be yours and nobody else’s. You and only you own me. Heart, body, and soul. Are you happy now.” She wiggled her ass. “Now, fuck me alread—”

  He drove into her so fast she lost her breath. She clawed at the cushion, until he pulled her hands behind her and held her still.

  “You are mine,” he growled. “Mine to taste.” He licked her shoulder again. “Mine to take,” he snarled thrusting harder and faster.

  She mewled. Oxygen pounded hard in her ears. It was almost impossible to hear him over the beats of her heart.

  “Mine to own,” he said roughly.

  Tension scorched her muscles and held them in a choke hold. The sound of skin slapping, her moans, and his growls reverberated around the house. If they’d had neighbors nearby, everyone would know what they were doing.

  “Mine to mate,” he whispered by her ear.

  Her body lost its fight against the knot winding inside her. She screamed into the cushions, riding the pleasure wave again while he plunged hard into her sex. He struck then. He bit into the back of her shoulder with his teeth just as her contractions clasped him in their unyielding hold. His cock pulsed inside her, filling her with his seed.

  Mini-orgasms rocked her core. And he continued coming. Not that she cared. She loved the feel of him. Loved that he wanted to be with her. In her.

  It took long moments to get her brain into working order before she realized her shoulder hurt. He’d bitten her hard. They’d had love bites before, but damn. This was new. Oh well, sex bruises were good bruises. That’s what she liked to think. Not that she’d had any sex since James, so that was probably why she felt like her bones had liquefied.

  She wasn’t sure if she’d died and gone to heaven or what, but her body was out of commission. There was no moving her. Even her lungs wanted some help. The soft brush of Brock’s tongue on her shoulder reminded her of his animal side.

  “Am I bleeding?” she asked, the words sounding awkward coming out of her super dry throat.

  “A little. I was too rough with you.” His voice was dark, almost upset.

  She groaned, and he moved off her and helped her stand. She tried to peek over her shoulder, but couldn’t see anything. “Don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me."

  At the first step she tried to take, her legs wobbled, and she almost fell on her very naked ass.

  Brock picked her up in his arms with so much tenderness she couldn’t help but smile. “Didn’t your realtor say something about a hot tub?”

  She grinned. “She did! What did you have in mind?”

  “I’m taking you to relax.”

  “Oh,” she didn’t want to sound upset about his nice gesture. She had been sexually deprived for ten years of Brock and his orgasm-inducing cock. A girl had priorities. A soak was not one of them when her sex drive was once again in action and begging for some use.

  “And then to bed, where you’ll tell me you’re mine again,” he rubbed his nose by her ear.

  “If we must,” she sighed and curled her arms around his neck, hugging tightly to him. “What’s in it for me, though?”

  He met her gaze with his dark sensual one. “I’ve been without you for too long,” he glanced down at her lips and kissed her softly. “I want to taste every inch of you until I can feel your pussy quivering when you come over my mouth.”

  She blinked. Well, fuck. Hell yes!

  “That’s not all. Then I’m going to fuck you until your knees give out again, and I fill you with my cum.”

  Scene after scene of the raggedy doll swam across her vision.

  “She should have listened. She didn’t listen. And now…now she’s never going to do it again. I’ll teach her.”

  Who? The doll lay in a dark corner, as if hidden from the world.

  “I’ll teach her to do what’s right.”

  She couldn’t make out more than those distant words. The voice was distorted. Darkness surrounded her. A thick, heavy blanket of fear and pain clawed at her throat. It was hard to breathe. Hard to think. Her vocal cords wouldn’t work. She was stuck in the nightmare. The darkness grew overpoweri
ng with its evil. Almost ready to take over her, calling out for her to join it. To be a part of its destructive path.

  Everything shifted in a heartbeat. The same heartbeat that thundered so loud in her chest. She saw a river. Something floated slowly in it. Like a giant log or something else. Grass crunched under feet with each step closer to the water. The sound of the rushing water helped guide her. Everything was so foggy.

  Anxiety spread through her, almost paralyzing her in place. She kept blinking, hoping to get the view into focus to no avail. She blinked. Her breath froze in her chest. The scene changed again. Water surrounded her now. No longer by the edge, she was smack in the middle of the river, water lapping at her sides. The thing floating was a body. And she couldn’t make out the face, but she did see a tattoo clearly. It was a purple rose the size of a quarter.

  Then she was gone.

  Cynthia’s phone ringing jerked her out of her dream. She gasped, sitting up in a rush.

  James’ arm tightened around her waist. “Are you okay, love?”

  She smiled into the darkness. Though thick with sleep, she heard the concern in his question.

  “I’m okay. I just need to take this call,” she said and tried to reach over him for the cell on the bedside table.

  He turned on the lamp by the bed and passed her the cell phone.

  “Cyn?” Tonya.

  “I’m here. Tonight was a little better than normal.”

  “Tell me. What did you see?”

  Their routine. Cyn closed her eyes and went through the details of her dream with her friend.

  “This is the second time you’ve dreamed of the doll.”

  “I know,” she murmured, aware that Brock sat next to her, rubbing a hand up and down her back without saying a word.

  “It is very significant. What about the girl? Is it your cousin?”

  “No, I don’t know who she was or why I dreamed of her.” She leaned into Brock’s touch. The heat from his body called her closer, to bask in his strength and have no fear.

  “Remember, your dreams are special. You can’t force them,” Tonya said. “You have to let them tell you the story.”

  She breathed. “I know. I’ll relax.”

  “Alright. Have a good night, dear.”

  “You too, Tonya.”

  She leaned further into Brock’s embrace, curling into his arms and rubbing her leg up and down his.

  “Nightmare?”

  “Vision. A pretty clear one as opposed to my usual, but it freaked me out a little.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised, planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

  A smile tugged at her lips and joy at her heart. Brock would never let anything happen to her, and he didn’t even need to say the words for her to know that. Maybe it was time she started rethinking the idea of being his boss. Leaving him once was hard. But leaving him again, that would kill her from the inside.

  Cyn cleared her throat. She watched Brock over the rim of her cup. Her body was still quivering from the way they’d come together. When his gaze rose from the diary to meet hers, she almost groaned. His eyes were bright with his animal’s power, and the pull he’d always had on her intensified after he’d bitten her. He’d never done that before.

  “Have you made out anything from these?”

  She blinked her very dirty mind to focus. Last night was over. So was the time in the hot tub. This morning in the hot tub. And the shower. The bed too. All four times. Fuck she needed something to control her new nympho status. “I think so.”

  With a soft clinking, she placed the coffee cup down on the table. Pointed to the page he had opened. “Those are clearly initials. Based on some of the names we already have, I’d say they belong to first and last names. I’m not sure what the middle underlined letters, or the numbers beside them stand for.”

  The ringing of his cell phone made her glance at him. He had an intense frown when he answered. “Brock,” he said in that rough voice that shoved her thoughts to the gutter. “When?” He rubbed a hand behind his neck and met her gaze. There was concern there. A lot of it. “Where? Okay, we’ll be right there.”

  “What’s going on?” she asked the moment he ended the call. Her own cell phone buzzed quietly on the table. One glance at the screen and her mood turned sour. Galvez. This was the second time he called since she’d gotten up. She refused to answer his calls. All his messages were the same. Wanting to make sure she was okay. She’d be a hell of a lot better if he left her alone.

  Brock covered her hands with his own. “A teen girl’s body was found by the river. They need someone to go see it. They think it might be Roxy.”

  She nodded, mind gone numb from the unexpected message and stood. “I’ve seen photos of her. I’ll do it.”

  Before she got a chance to step away, he hauled her into his arms. She’d been dreading this. And now her fear was a reality. Her heart broke for her aunt Clara and for Roxy. Cyn buried her face in Brock’s shirt, inhaling his scent and allowing his warmth to calm the sadness threatening to overwhelm her.

  She sighed. Then glanced up to meet his worried gaze.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

  A thick knot threatened her ability to speak, so she ignored her earlier words and lifted on her tippy toes to brush her lips over his. “I know. Let’s go see if this girl is Roxy.”

  Her nightmares rushed forth then. A girl’s body floated in the river—lifeless. She hadn’t been able to make out features in her dreams, but she’d known the girl hadn’t made it. The gray tone of the skin told her this was someone who wouldn’t see another day. Another smile. Nothing.

  She swallowed back the dryness in her throat. If Roxy was the girl she dreamed of, she’d have to break the news to her aunt—a woman who was already emotionally unstable.

  The drive to the local hospital was tense and quiet. Her muscles ached from how stiff she held herself. If Roxy was dead, her next problem was finding out who killed her cousin. But what if it wasn’t Roxy?

  Brock’s car took a corner at high speed, hitting a bump on the road. She bounced in her seat, ass slapping on the leather. She winced and bit her lip. Fear centered in her chest. Her fingers went numb from how tight she gripped the handle above her head. Acid burned its way up her throat. She shouldn’t have had coffee.

  The screech of brakes told her they’d arrived. She blinked out of the mental images of death and glanced up at the Holy Oaks Hospital.

  They went through the main hospital entrance in hopes someone would be able to direct them to the morgue.

  Cyn inhaled slowly. She hated this part of her job. Hated it. Seeing lifeless corpses wasn’t something new to her, but it still sucked every time. They were directed to take an elevator to the sub level and sign in.

  A guard sat there. His short buzz-cut appeared freshly done. A kid. The young buck’s unhappiness was clear. He didn’t want to be there. He played with the buttons on his radio with a frown. “Can I help you?”

  She was about to open her mouth when Brock showed the guard his badge. “We’re here to see the body of the young girl found today,” he answered, threading their fingers together and holding her hand hostage.

  “Is Dr. Nuñez expecting you?”

  “Yes,” Cyn cleared her throat. “We’re here to see about identifying the body the police found late last night.”

  At that moment, a door opened. The metal slapped concrete with a resounding boom. Seconds later, a tall Hispanic man with a shaved head and glasses headed toward them. The closer he got, the more she noticed the red spots on his white lab coat. Blood. He stopped in front of them, face crinkling with a warm smile.

  “Ms. Vega?” he asked, glancing back and forth between Cyn and Brock.

  “Yes,” she shook his hand and glanced up at Brock. “This is my partner, James Brock. He received the call about the body from our office in Virginia.”

  “I’d like to say it’s nice to meet you both, but th
ese are not the best circumstances to meet anyone. Still, welcome to Holy Oaks.” The ME smiled. “I’m Dr. Raul Nuñez. If you follow me, I’ll take you to see the body.”

  Cyn caught Brock watching her. She blinked and made a face, wondering what he was thinking.

  “Thank you, Dr. Nuñez,” she hurried to walk beside the ME, leaving Brock to follow. “Can you tell me how long you’ve lived in Holy Oaks?”

  Their steps echoed down the hallway on their walk. She tried not to wince at the ugly green color on the walls. That vomit-green with poor lighting was the stuff of nightmares. Hers, mainly. How many people could admit to dreaming of the future death of others? Not many.

  “I’ve been here for about two years. Transferred in from Florida when the old ME retired,” Nuñez answered, opening the same door he’d appeared out of earlier.

  “Do you know many of the people in town?” Cyn tried to keep the inquisition to sound like mere pleasantries, but it seemed there were secrets everywhere. Every person she met she wanted to interrogate.

  “Not really. I have met some of the more prominent townsfolk. The Landleys. The Kemps. And the Torrents.”

  She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Her heartbeat increased with each step. They were going down a new hallway. The air tasted stale. No other noise sounded around them. Only their footsteps. At the end of the hallway, she saw the large block letters she’d been dreading. Morgue.

  “Tell me about the girl they brought in,” she mumbled, tripping over her own feet. Thankfully, Brock was there, holding her, before she got a chance to fall flat on her face.

  Nuñez grabbed gloves from the box at the door and turned to give her an earnest smile. His friendly brown eyes dulled for a moment. “She was young. Nobody that young should die like that.”

  How?

  Cynthia glanced over her shoulder at Brock. His eyes were bright. Almost glowing, but not quite.

  “Are you okay?” she whispered.

  His lip curled into a small grin. “I’ve done this before, love. I’ll be fine.”