Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
He couldn’t settle.
There were definitely times when Blade hated enhanced hearing that never gave him a moment of peace.
Sound was a constant, he wasn't like Lion, who could close his eyes and shut off his enhanced sight, and although Dragon was also constantly able to smell things, the man seemed to have honed his skill and enjoyed having it.
It wasn't that Blade didn't like his ability to hear things in near-perfect detail, even from a distance, and there were definitely times when it had saved the lives of him and his teammates, but at times it wore on him.
Like when he heard Whitney’s soliloquy as she crept through the halls after hiding out all day. He’d heard her the second she was out of her room, but he hadn't been ready to face her yet, which made hearing her words that much worse.
Why are you still thinking about it? No.
Bad girl. Stop thinking about him. Guaranteed he’s not thinking about you right now.
He had all afternoon to come and find you if he wanted to, but he didn't. Didn't even come and say thank you for all the information. Crickets. It’s stupid anyway, you're being kicked out of here as soon as they know there’s no danger left.
Blade assumed the it she was talking about was their kiss, and it had taken every ounce of his self-control not to storm down the stairs, shove her up against the closest wall, and crush his lips to hers.
That should erase any doubts in her pretty little head about whether he was still thinking about her.
But it was the complete and utter conviction in her tone when she said she thought she was going to be kicked out that had broken his heart.
If he hadn't heard Dragon heading toward her, he probably would have shoved his fears aside and gone to her.
As it turned out, he didn't have to. Dragon had told her exactly what she needed to hear, and coming from the man who had tried to kill her when the leash of control he had on his anger slipped, it would mean so much more.
After Dragon had left, he hadn't heard Whitney talking to herself again, but he’d tracked her to the kitchen, heard her prepare herself some food, eat it alone, and then retire to her bedroom.
He’d listened as she showered and imagined her hands, covered in soapy suds, roaming her body as she cleaned herself.
Wished it was his hands instead, trailing across that petal-soft skin.
Of course, if it were his hands on her body, he wouldn't just be washing it.
Instead, his fingers would be plucking at her nipples, kneading her perfect breasts, dipping between her legs, and teasing her bud before sinking inside her, grazing that spot that would make her see stars.
He wouldn't stop until he had her panting and writing against him, begging him to let her come. When he’d drunk in the sight of her flushed skin and heavy-lidded eyes enough, then he’d let her come.
No way would he stop there, because Blade already knew that if he let himself have just one taste of her, he’d become addicted.
If he let himself become addicted to the petite blonde, what happened when she left?
What Dragon had told her was true, she was part of their family now, another victim of the crazed scientist who thought he got to play God.
But it didn't seem fair to make her stay there, caged all over again, when she’d been trying to break free, find her own way, her own path, and figure out who she was and how she wanted to live her life.
Staying away from her was safer for her and for him.
Because while Blade would never ever deny Whitney pleasure in the bedroom, if anything, he’d make her come over and over again until her system was thrown into overdrive and she was pleading with him to give her a break, his tastes in the bedroom were no doubt more than she could handle.
He and his team had never discussed their sex lives.
He had no idea if before Rose, Steel had gone to one of the nearby towns to seek out a woman to share his bed, or if Dragon had before Cassandra.
Just like he hadn't told the guys that some nights, when his need for blood got too much for him to handle, he headed into town, sought out a seedy bar, and picked up a woman he knew wouldn't mind him indulging himself.
But Whitney never was and never could be one of those women.
Her sweet, innocent little mind couldn’t comprehend his need to draw blood, to see it stain the skin of the woman sharing his bed as he pounded into her, seeking a release that seemed harder and harder to find each time he tried.
In fact, chasing that release had gotten so hard that he hadn't bothered going into town for that particular purpose in over a year.
There had been plenty to keep him busy with everything going down with the Charleston Holloway family, then getting the name of the doctor who ran the program, that he hadn't even had time to think about sex.
Until Whitney.
His pretty little captive, who wasn't really his captive anymore, with her wide blue eyes, so innocent and vulnerable, her pouty lips, and those blonde locks he wanted to tangle his fingers in as he guided her mouth to his. Whitney had zero idea that she was the sexiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and that she thought he hadn't kissed her back because he didn't want her and wasn't attracted to her made him want to howl out his frustrations.
Instead of going to her, he prowled the hall outside her room.
So close and yet so far away from where he wanted to be.
It would be so easy to just shove open her door, stalk in there, pin her to the bed as he made her take back her words, punish her for thinking that any man in their right mind wouldn't be attracted to her, make her blood run as he showed her exactly how gorgeous he thought she was, how hard she made him.
Talk about terrifying her.
As it was, she was barely tolerating being near them. Not because she thought they were monsters, he believed her when she said she knew they weren't, but because she still thought they wanted to punish her for actions she’d been given no choice in.
There was no shortcut, Whitney would have to learn to trust them as they showed her that they posed no threat to her. Hopefully, handing over her intel and seeing that nobody had kicked her out onto the street would help, as would Dragon’s assertion that she’d been adopted into their family.
Could he go in there now and assure her that what Dragon said was true?
The light was on so he assumed she was awake. Although he couldn’t hear her moving about, he could hear the steady and reassuring beat of her heart.
Curling his fingers into fists to stop himself from making a rash decision, one he knew when he was thinking with the right head would do more harm than good. Bursting into Whitney’s room at midnight wouldn't convince her that she was safe there and they saw her as family.
Yet she’d wanted him to come to her today.
Been disappointed that he hadn't.
Thought that he hadn't even been thinking about her when it was all he’d done.
Overwhelmed with a need to show her how very wrong she’d been, Blade couldn’t hold himself back any longer.
Bad idea or not, he needed to see her, talk to her, taste her again.
That kiss earlier had caught him by surprise, and by the time his brain caught on to what was happening, Whitney had already been pulling back.
Not going after her earlier had been a mistake, one he wasn't going to repeat now.
Shoving open the door, he came to an abrupt halt when the thin light of the lamp on the nightstand didn't show Whitney lying tucked under the covers like he’d expected.
The bed was empty.
Next, his gaze flickered to the rocking chair by the window, but that was empty too.
There was no light on in the bathroom, so he knew she wasn't in there, and he could hear her breathing, evenly like she was asleep, so she was somewhere in the room even if she wasn't in bed like she should be.
Worried, Blade spun in a circle, finally finding her curled up in a corner of the room, her forehead resting on her knees, apparently fast asleep. What the hell?
January 14th
1:43 A.M.
Something nudged her from sleep.
The eerie feeling of eyes on her.
Wouldn't be the first time Whitney had had someone watching her while she slept.
There were two men in particular who would sneak into her room at night or would flat out refuse to leave when she retired for the night, stating she was a security risk, even though her chances of escaping had been zero.
One of those men was dead now. Mark Lucas, her handler, had been killed in the forest by Blade. She knew he was dead, had seen it happen, felt his blood splatter her clothes, there was no chance he was watching her now.
Terry Richards then?
While she was most scared of Mark, that was mostly because she just saw him every day, heard his lewd comments daily, endured his rough treatment with no way to stop it from happening, there was a coldness about Terry that said quite clearly he was someone to be feared.
He was head of the entire security division, so most days he wasn't on site, moving around with Dr. Gardner, but when he was there …
He terrified the life out of her.
More than once, she’d caught him watching her with an assessing detachment that turned her blood to ice. If he was watching her now, she was in big trouble.
“Relax, darlin’,” a voice soothed. Blade somehow realized that she was afraid even though she hadn't said anything. Hadn't even opened her eyes, didn't even know he was there.
Where was there?