Before The Witches Part 7

She wrenched at her jeans. The b.u.t.tons popped open, audibly loud in their feverish scrambling. His zipper hissed. He hooked a thumb in the waistband of his light blue boxers, the front damp with the evidence of his own arousal, and pushed them down, revealing his erection. Paler than the rest of his suntanned skin, but flushed and thick and so tempting that her mouth fell open. She licked her lower lip, panting.

Fire roiled inside her skin; a flush climbed from her core to her flesh, warming her beyond any furnace. Egging her on.

His features were taut with wanting, his muscles pulling and flexing as he grabbed her weight and s.h.i.+fted her just enough that she could wriggle out of her jeans. Her underwear wasn't made of enough material to bother. But instead of climbing up his lap, instead of impaling herself as badly as she wanted it, she turned. Slid off the sofa until her bare knees found the rough carpet and slammed a hand into the center of his chest as he moved.

"Ne dvigat'sya," she ordered, her voice heavy with wanting.

He twitched, but held still.

Her smile deepened to something wicked. Oh, G.o.d, she really was crazy.

Her fingernails dug into his chest. He leaned back, every muscle vibrating with the control she read leashed in his eyes, his clenched teeth. Before he could talk, stop her-try-she bent over his lap. Closed her lips over the head of his rigid c.o.c.k, and tasted him as thoroughly as if he were baklava fresh from home.

His head snapped back, cords standing out in his throat as she took him in, deep into her mouth. Her throat. She was practiced, she had to be, but this wasn't like those other times. This wasn't anything like it.

This was her gift. Her choice.

His pleasure.

She watched him through her lashes as she sucked at him; thrilled as his hands tunneled into her hair, not to push her away but to guide her. Hold her hair from her face so he could see her mouth work him, suck him, take him in deep, nearly to his b.a.l.l.s.

His eyes glittered, painfully bright. His jaw clenched so hard she could see a muscle leap in his jaw.

It echoed the muscle leaping against her throat, her lips.

"Oh, G.o.d," Nigel rasped, so hoa.r.s.e it was nearly nothing more than a whisper. She'd found his tipping point. His fingers tightened around her head and pulled her off, his c.o.c.k sliding free of her mouth with a soft sucking sound. He grabbed her by the arms and yanked her across his lap.

Katya caught herself against his shoulders. For a moment, a breath of time, she stiffened. He was aggressive. He was all male, and she'd teased him, but he . . .

He wouldn't hurt her. He couldn't.

He wasn't like them.

"d.a.m.n." As if aware he'd toed up to some kind of line, he let go of her arms. Although his erection twitched, glistening from her attentions, he didn't move. His eyes pinched, mouth twisting. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

Katya settled a finger over his lips. They stilled, but he didn't have to talk to show her what he was thinking. His eyes were filled with it: Regret. Anger. Concern.

She leaned in, replaced her finger with her lips and kissed him so softly that even she s.h.i.+vered with it. "You are you," she said. "You are not-"

Them.

Nigel didn't let her finish. He kissed her again, swallowing the word. The memories. His hands gentler, he stroked them down her back. Over the curve of her a.s.s, framed in lavender lace. She braced one hand on his chest, warm and so alive under her palm, and pulled aside the stretchy swatch of her underwear.

His c.o.c.k nudged her, and she sucked in a deep, sudden breath.

Everything narrowed down to this second. This moment, his hot flesh against hers. His gaze boring into her own; his hands steady on her waist. Supporting, not restraining. Warm and callused and protective.

Closing her eyes, she sank down, impaled herself with a slow, wet slide of flesh in flesh, and threw her head back on a fierce, satisfied moan.

He echoed it. His fingers dug into her waist, but it was Katya who set the pace. Her will that curved her hips, slid them away, then slammed them back. His length rubbed inside of her, filled her, each inch like a benediction, a healing salve.

There was nothing before Nigel.

There would be nothing after.

Katya knew only now. Her body's temperature rising. Her brain fragmenting as she rode him. Her thighs burned with the effort, but his hands helped her to steady herself; let her concentrate on the fierce intensity of his c.o.c.k buried deep inside her. In and out. Stroking, stretching, filling.

One of his hands moved. She gripped the arm of the sofa beside them as she struggled to quiet her moans. And then his thumb touched the hard knot of nerves between her swollen folds and that was the end of any pretense of control she had.

She o.r.g.a.s.med on a long, shuddering arc of sensation and sound. It uncoiled like a flood cras.h.i.+ng through a shattered dam, rolling through her from head to toe and back again; centered always on his thrusts, on the jerky motion of his hips where they joined. She watched his features tense. "Katya," he gasped.

"Do it," she whispered, and watched his eyes flash and darken and finally close as he came inside her.

It set off every nerve she had. Forced another screaming tide through her body, her chest, her throat. He captured the back of her head in one hand, swallowed her cry with a kiss that filled her mouth as deeply as he still filled her body.

When she couldn't take it anymore, she tore her lips away, gasped for air as her heart slammed against the cage of her ribs.

Nigel's breath came in low, slowing pants. Unable to resist him, she let him tug her down to his chest. Her knees burned from the sofa cus.h.i.+ons, her hip was threatening to lock at any moment, but Katya said nothing.

Slowly, closing her eyes and burying her face in his chest, she listened to Nigel's heart pounding beneath her ear. For a long time, neither spoke.

When his heart had slowed, and her breath once more came and went without shaking, Nigel stirred. "You must be hungry."

She didn't bother opening her eyes. "Tired."

His breath stirred the hair over her face as he sighed. "Of course you are." Slowly, as if she were made of gla.s.s, he s.h.i.+fted out from under her. The loss of his body heat immediately made her s.h.i.+ver. "I'm going to get you some food," he said, refastening his pants. His features were granite hard. Locked down.

Katya blinked at him. "I . . . Is everything all right?"

He hesitated. His expression gentled, and he bent to hand her the jeans they'd tossed to the floor. When she took them, he caught her hand. "I'm not running away," he said, so seriously that her heart fluttered. "I'm just giving you food. And a chance to . . ." His mouth worked for a moment. Then, helplessly, he gestured at the office. The sofa.

Her. Naked but for a purple thong.

"Get presentable?" she hazarded. But she couldn't help the smile in her voice. Or the warmth slowly filling her chest.

"That," he agreed. He squeezed her fingers, and let her go. "I'll be back. You'll eat, and then catch some sleep. And I'll check on Junie," he promised, before she could even frame the thought in her head.

She watched him leave the office, her mind whirling. As the door swung shut, she saw him sc.r.a.pe both hands through his hair. Like a man beset by trouble.

"So close," she whispered, and looked at the denim clenched in her lap. She was so d.a.m.ned close to making the worst mistake of her life.

Or maybe . . . Katya closed her eyes. Or maybe the best.

Chapter Six.

"How is she?"

Nigel looked up from the paperwork he hadn't been writing on for the past hour. It took his bleary vision a long moment to clear, focusing Jake Leigh's double image into one serious expression of concern.

He palmed at his eyes, straightening his back from its half-slump. "She?"

Jake's mouth quirked. "Katya."

"On a first name basis, are you?" Nigel couldn't help the underlying lash of jealousy beneath the wry question. He gouged his thumb into one eye, rubbing as if he could stamp out the fierce, protective surge.

"She's fine," he added before Jake's mouth could frame the question his raised eyebrows were asking. "Sleeping. Her and Junie. I figured I'd give them an hour more before diving into the interrogation portion of our day. We have a few hours before the child welfare advocate arrives."

"Poor kid." The officer leaned against the desk, and for the first time, Nigel saw the shadows under his blue eyes. Lines bracketed his mouth. "That girl . . . It just makes you want to do something, you know?"

Oh, yeah. He knew. He'd done something, all right. He sighed, pus.h.i.+ng aside the sheaf of papers. "You can't fix the world, Leigh."

"Yeah, well. I sure want to try."

Nigel smiled wearily. "That's why you've got a badge. Any word from Nancy?" He deftly served the change of subject before either of them could dwell on the two refugees sleeping behind the office door only feet away.

That would only p.i.s.s them both off, Nigel knew. And undirected anger was a h.e.l.l of a drain on the resources.

"No word, yet. Lydia's starting to get antsy, though, so I've asked my sister-in-law to-Whoa." Jake dropped a hand to the desk, his brow furrowed deeply. "Did you feel that?"

"Another quake?" Nigel stood, but like Jake, he braced both palms on the desk. Nothing moved. Just the usual vibrations of heavy feet tromping through five stories of police station chaos.

Jake frowned. "I'd swear I-"

The light in the police station dimmed slowly. As if a storm front had rolled in beneath Seattle's typical gray clouds. The gray ambience of Seattle's typical daylight turned over the soul-sucking fluorescence of the office lights.

"Holy s.h.i.+t!" Waters snapped a blind back, suddenly pale. "Guys . . . ?"

Nigel circled the desk, hard on Jake's heels as the officer sprinted to the window. Jake pulled the blinds up, the vinyl clattering loudly as the shade rose.

Seattle filled the frame, much as it always did, save for a little extra wear and tear. As it had been for the past few hours, b.u.mper-to-b.u.mper traffic filled the streets; frightened people hurrying to get out of a city falling apart around them.

The news had promised no more quakes.

They hadn't said anything about the early night.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Jake breathed.

Nigel watched the thick, lightless bank of clouds roll over the visible skyline. He'd seen it before. Once, when Maylene had faked being sick and he'd let her stay home on his day off. She'd watched a show, some entertainment science. It was about . . . Oh, s.h.i.+t.

Even as he opened his mouth, the building shuddered. "Ash," he said, shocked. "That's an ash cloud."

"Quake!" Waters yelled at the same time. The furniture s.h.i.+mmied in place, and Nigel grunted as he turned and slammed thigh-first into the corner of a desk that hadn't been there moments before. The walls swayed, lamps and computer monitors crashed to the floor.

"Get to reinforced positions," someone shouted.

Jake grabbed Nigel's arm as a vicious tremor sent him staggering into a fold-out cubicle. "Get-"

"I'm on it!" Nigel pushed through the room, feeling as if he were forcing each step through knee-high sand. "Katya?"

Cords snapped around him. Light fixtures crashed to the ground, sparks popping. "Evacuate!" someone screamed. "We gotta get out!"

The office door slammed open. Katya staggered out, her hair sleep-tousled and her eyes wild over Junie's head. The girl clung to her, lurching as the floor pitched beneath them.

"Nigel!" Katya held Junie tightly, her eyes pinched with the effort he could clearly see she was exerting to stay calm and upright. "What's happening?"

"Ash cloud. We need to get you out."

"Ash?"

He didn't give her any time to look, grabbing her arm and wrenching her towards the doors. G.o.d only knew what was happening, but it wasn't over. Not by a long shot. "Open the doors!"

Stacey slammed at them. "It's stuck," she said, her voice pitched too high. But she worked at the handle, ramming her thin shoulder against it. "Help?"

Nigel wrapped a supporting arm around Katya and Junie as the building rattled violently. "Jake?"

"Here, sir." Jake surged past him, throwing his weight against the doors. Waters joined him, his shoulder working the bent panels. They slammed open.

Waters caught the dark-haired woman around the waist. "You okay, Stace?"

She flashed him a tight little smile. "Great," she said through her teeth. Screams filled the stairway, echoed up to them in a wild cacophony. Even as they crossed the threshold, the hallway creaked and groaned. The stairs rattled, metal and cement tearing free in jagged panels.

Jake leaped back, hauling a screaming Stacey with him. They bowled into Waters and Nigel, sent Katya staggering back into the department doors. She grunted, wincing.

"Christ," Jake breathed as old cement filled the air like the ash looming outside.

Nigel was desperately aware of Junie's small hands at his waist. He met Katya's eyes over the small group. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, her face pale.

"Ferris!" McClintock's voice cracked like a whip.

Nigel looked up the swaying stairwell. "Chief, we gotta-"

"There's a chopper on the roof," she cut in. "Let's go."

"Chief?" Jake frowned. "Are you bleeding?"

For the first time, Nigel noticed the dark smear of blood on the woman's face. "Shannon!"

She shook her head, mouth tight. "Haul a.s.s, people."