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ELEVEN
Regret. There werefew times in Rook’s life when he felt it. This was one o them.
Tempest slept the sleep of the dead. Slight snuffles came from her nose as she curled onto her side, fingers wrapped tight in a section of the sheets. In rest, she appeared peaceful, sweeter and not as jagged around the edges. None of the vibrancy of her personality she projected when awake.
Nor the sensuality she’d exhibited with him. There had been sincerity along with the blazing fire in each, kiss and caress, leaving him as the one who’d been held in thrall.
Slumber lent her an air of innocence too. Innocence? Who was he trying to fool? Records didn’t lie. She was a proven killer. Still. He couldn’t shake the feeling he had missed something.
Or the sex sharing had skewed his thinking. Argoran were passionate by nature and extremely affectionate. His mixed blood had diluted that along with the mating urge known as muata for his race but it was the only thing he could think of to explain this fierce reaction to her.
His past was a dark and vicious memory. A place he didn’t care to visit often for fear it would reignite the temper he worked hard to keep in check. But in this moment, watching her sleep, his body sated in a way he hadn’t experienced before, his thoughts dipped into dangerous territory.
The woman who’d raised him had been beyond cruel. She’d made it clear he had no place in her life and no value other than a means to vent her own anger. He remembered nights where she’d drag him to the cleansing room and hold his head beneath the water as punishment for some minor mistake. Her goal had been to crush his spirit but he didn’t let her win.
Which is why Tempest’s wishes had touched him. As he listened to her speak of love and want, a tightening sensation twisted in his gut. It was as if she voiced his needs aloud. Needs he wouldn’t, couldn’t let himself acknowledge.
Despite the connection, emotions wouldn’t deter him. He had to concentrate on what Tempest had done. The deaths, the problems she caused with her actions and those that would arise for ERS if she continued her personal vendetta against Jarad Oolun.
Ice formed in his veins and hardened the spurt of sentimentality. Grimacing, he eased from the bed and her embrace. Doing so without disturbing her was tricky. She slid her legs in a restless motion, the fingers in the sheet opening and flexing as if searching for him.
He paused until she settled, her lips pursed in a disgruntled twist. The injector was on the floor where he’d dropped it in their passionate encounter. Scooping it up, he contemplated what he was about to do. She wouldn’t forgive him for this.
With a sigh of remorse, he placed the injector on the bare slope of her upper hip, where the sheet had slipped down and depressed the plunger. She jerked, a soft cry escaping as her eyes flew open. The sound pierced his heart.
“Roarke?” Her voice held traces of sleep and desire. Confusion replaced both in her gaze as the sedative sped its way through her system. Her short blonde hair stood up in tufts from his hands raking through it and her lips were swollen from their desperate kisses.
“Shhh,” he crooned, crouching down on his knees beside the bed.
Her lids fluttered, grew heavy and drifted closed. More susceptible to the drug than he had anticipated. He tucked flyaway blonde strands of her hair behind the shell of her small ears and tapped his comm. “This is Hunter One, target down. Repeat, target is down.”
“Copy, Hunter One. Hunter Four moving in,” Dorian replied.
“Hunter Two on stand by with Hunter Three,” Kjar reported.
Shame for what he’d done this night drew his brows together as he searched for the dress she’d worn. He spotted the pile of silver and crossed the room to get it. Dorian would be here in less than five and he didn’t question the protective fury at the thought of his teammate seeing her unclothed.
Tempest’s arms flopped as he slid the dress over her head and down her abundant curves before lifting and moving her to the side of the bed. His cock stirred despite being satiated beyond his wildest dreams. Sex sharing between them had been explosive, her hunger and generosity in bed unexpected.
Shouldn’t a hardened criminal be a selfish lover? Unable to fight the urge, he placed his fingers at her throat to check her pulse, reassured by the solid thump against his fingers.
Three brisk knocks at the door pulled his attention from her features in repose. He got up and let Dorian in.
Dressed in dark pants and a shirt, the other man scanned the room. “Hahn and Kjar are waiting out back in the transport. We should be able to get her out unseen.”
Rook nodded. “How long will she be under?”
Dorian frowned then his expression cleared. “Long enough to get her to base with none the wiser.”
“Right.” He stepped into his boots and buttoned his shirt and shrugged his jacket on.
“I’ll carry her down,” Dorian volunteered, reaching for Tempest’s sleeping form.
A growl rose in Rook’s throat and he lunged between the bed and the other man. “I’ll do it.”
Creases formed at the middle of Dorian’s brow and he started to speak. Something on Rook’s face must have warned him because he acquiesced with a slight incline of his head.
Gathering her in his arms, Rook ignored the scent of sex mixed with the berry fragrance that rose from Tempest’s body and held her close. “You lead and cover.”
