Kissing Sin (Riley Jenson Guardian #2) - Page 10

The Rocker was filled with teenagers half my age, all of them bopping to music that was painful to my cars. I could see why the Rocker's traditional weekend crowd had fled – the crap they were playing now was nothing like the good old-fashioned rock and roll this club had built its reputation on. But then, I guess they had to do something to attract the next generation of wolves through the door.

Misha sat on a stool at the far end of the chrome and red lacquer bar. He wore dark jeans and a black T-shirt, and both accentuated the whiteness of his lean body. As I stood there staring at him, the urge to turn and run hit me. I didn't want to do this. I really didn't.

Not because of the sex. As I'd said to Quinn more than once, sex was part of a werewolf's nature, and we didn't hold it in the same reverent regard. Even though I didn't particularly want to mate with Misha, I would, and I'd more than likely enjoy it.

No, what disgusted me was the fact that I'd been left no choice in the matter.

If I was a guardian and this was just a part of my job, it would have been okay. If I'd walked in here knowing I'd been offered this assignment and had willingly chosen to do it, I would have had no problems. But I didn't have the choice, no matter what Quinn said. Misha seemed to be the only one who knew what was going on, and to get that information and get my life on track, I had to do this. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. Two very different things.

And it hit me then that part of me had already accepted the reality that one day I would become a guardian. That one day, I'd be doing this out of choice rather than need.

I closed my eyes, sickened not so much by the thought, but the tremor of excitement that ran through me. I didn't want to become a killer. Didn't want to become my brother. But the part of me that had always rejoiced in the danger of being with Talon was dancing at the thought of becoming a guardian and facing danger on a regular basis.

Maybe Jack was right. Maybe he did know me better than I knew myself.

Taking another deep breath, I pushed the thoughts aside, and made my way through the crowd.

Tapping Misha on the shoulder, I said, "I believe we had a date."

His icy gaze slid down my body. I'd changed into jeans and a black crop top, but had left Liander's other improvements in place. There was no recognition in Misha's eyes as his gaze met mine then slid away. "I believe you're mistaken."

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"So you've decided you don't want kids any more?"

His head snapped around, and his gaze narrowed. "Riley?"

"The one and only." I plopped down on the stool beside his and ordered a beer.

"Why the disguise?"

"Why not? Especially when you haven't exactly proven you can keep me safe."

"Have you been attacked recently?"

I snorted softly. "Twice, actually."

"What?"

The surprise in his voice seemed genuine, but I wasn't about to be taken in by it. Misha could act the pants off just about anyone I knew. "Once with orsini, once with a paid hitman. It's pissing me oft, Misha."

"The bastard," he muttered. "Obviously, he needs a little reminder that I mean what I say."

"Obviously, because he ain't taking a blind bit of notice of your threats at the moment. And keeping me safe was part of our deal, remember?"

"I remember," he said, voice hard. "And I'm trying."

"Well, try a little harder or the damn deal is off." I paused and thanked the bartender as he brought over my beer. "I want to know how he's tracking me, Misha. Tell me that, or it ends right now."

Jack would have a fit if he heard either of the threats, but hell, Jack didn't have his life on the goddamn line.

"You're bugged."

"Rhoan checked for bugs. We didn't find any."

"You wouldn't find these. They're new."

"Stolen from the Landsend Military Base, perhaps?"

He smiled. "Perhaps."

"I want you to find it and take it out."

He nodded. "I don't want you dead, Riley. Believe that, if nothing else."

Oh, I believed it. He wanted a kid out of me first. "So, tell me, why was Martin Hunt shot?"

"Not here. Wait until we're upstairs."

"Upstairs might not be any safer."

"But they have voice screens active up there. At least what we say can't be overheard once we're in one of the zones."

"Unless people can read lips."

A smile touched his thin mouth. "I think it'd be a bit obvious if someone was up there simply to read lips."

True. The Rocker wasn't like the Blue Moon. The dancing on this level was actual dancing, not the wolf kind, simply because the Rocker had a wall of windows that looked out onto the main street. And while werewolves didn't mind doing it in public, humankind sure did get upset about seeing it.

Nor did it have private rooms. Here at the Rocker, the choice on the upper floor was a communal one, the options as simple as beds, sofas, or beanbags. "I thought you said your followers had given up watching you here?"

"As far as I know, they have. But I'm not taking chances."

Nor would I. Liander's improvements might be worth keeping for a while yet. I took a long swig of my beer, then said, "Shall we get down to business?"

His eyes glimmered with amusement and hunger. "Eager to please, huh?"

"Oh, dying for it."

"The end result will be worth it – for both of us."

I surely hoped so. "There's no guarantee I'll get pregnant. If you've read my files, you'll know that."

He pressed a hand against my spine as he guided me toward the back stairs. Desire stirred sluggishly. Misha wasn't my choice of partner any more, and he certainly didn't deserve any eagerness, but he was the one I had to be with. That being the case, I might as well enjoy my time with him.

"You're not the only wolf I'm trying to impregnate right now," he said, as we climbed the stairs. "I have two other women who have agreed to bear my child."

It was the first statement he'd made that I truly believed. The first statement that actually had me thinking he was telling the truth – at least some of the time. "The blondes you mentioned earlier?"

He nodded.

"I bet they're doing it for a tidy sum."

He glanced at me, eyes cold. "Everyone has their price, Riley."

He knew mine. Knew it was the only reason I was here. And he didn't care. What would he do if he knew he would never get the one thing he really wanted? Not from me, anyway.

The upstairs room was long and narrow, and looked like one of those old-fashioned barns often seen in westerns. The only thing that was missing was the hay – though I knew that had been here in the early years.

The room was semi-filled with wolves in various stages of mating, and the air was thick with the smell of sex and lust. My blood quickened, aroused by the aromas as much as the sounds and sights of mating.

Misha's hunger flicked around me, a living thing that stole my breath and made the ache even fiercer. His aura, switched to full intensity, drowned me in desire, making sure my body would be ready for him when the time came. Not that he really needed to do it, because after Quinn's kiss and subsequent departure, I was more than ready to play.

And though I could have negated the force of his aura easily enough, I didn't. It was better to let him think I needed his aura, that I was still unwilling to be here. Besides, tonight might be about getting answers, but I sure as hell intended to enjoy it as well.

By the time we reached the first free sofa midway down the room, my skin burned, as did the need to feel him inside. Not waiting for him to make the first move, I pushed him. back against the wall and kissed him like my life depended on it. Kissed him until my skin burned and the need to feel him inside was all-consuming. And then I fucked him, hard and fast and furiously. He growled deep in his throat, a warning of God knows what, but I ignored it, riding him hard. As his body convulsed and his seed poured into me, my orgasm hit. The intensity of it stole my breath and my sanity for too many seconds.

But it wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot.

He was still hard inside, but that wasn't really surprising. The need to create life was on him, and the moon that forced the change each month granted us the strength to mate long and frequently, especially when the need to reproduce was on us.

"My turn to ride rough," he growled, his eyes burning with desire and anger.

I'd hit a nerve. Misha hated being second. Hated not being in charge. Interesting. Maybe it was something I could use later on, when we were somewhere security wasn't likely to intervene should things get a little rough.

He spun me around, pressed me against the back of the sofa, then kicked my legs apart and thrust into me so hard and fast I wasn't sure whether my groan was one of pleasure or pain. Then he began to move, and I let thought slide away, concentrating on sensation and simply enjoying.

That was the pattern for the next two hours – we mated on the sofa, the bed, and the beanbags. The first hour was as hard and furious as I'd expected, but after that, he took more time, seducing rather than simply taking. I appreciated the effort, and in the end, thoroughly enjoyed myself. I'd always liked Misha, and I guess I still did – even if I no longer trusted him. And whatever else his faults, he was usually a good lover.

It was close to three when we ordered a couple of beers, then made our way over toward a secluded corner. Misha flicked on the voice screen as I flopped back into a beanbag.

"Give me your feet," he said.

I raised them both and plonked them in his lap. He studied the underside of both for a moment, then grunted and dropped my right foot back to the floor. He bent my left leg around so I could see my foot, and pointed to the slight spot of discoloration right in the middle. "See that?"

I frowned. "Looks like a freckle."

"That it does. Only, if you run your finger over it, you feel a slight hardness around the edges compared to the rest of your foot."

I did. "It's the tracker?"

"Yep."

"Landsend can make trackers that small?"

"Not only small, but untraceable to current finders."

"And you know this because you have one in you?" It was a guess, but not much of one.

He smiled. "Yes, I have one. But they don't entirely trust it, so I have followers as well."

"Why don't they trust it on you? It obviously works."

"Because I know how to remove it, and do so when it suits me not to be found. He thinks the signal is faulty, hence the followers."

"You play a dangerous game, Misha."

"Extremely." He reached over to our pile of clothes, and pulled a knife from the pocket of his jeans. "Hold still," he said.

He cut into my foot. Not deeply, so the pain wasn't really that sharp. After a few seconds, he grunted, then held up the spot on a fingertip so I could see. Now it looked like a freckle with four fine, wiry legs. He dropped it to the floor and smashed it under his heel.

"He will of course know you've found the bug."

"As long as he can no longer track me, I couldn't care less." I studied Misha for a moment. "He can't track me now, can he?"

"As far as I know, that was the only bug he placed. You can't use more than one on a person – stuffs up the signal or something like that."

"And I presume Kade has one, as well?"

"Everyone of importance to the project had one. Just in case."

"Then excuse me while I make a quick, phone call."

He shrugged. I pulled the cell from the pocket of my jeans and quickly dialed Jack's number. It was busy, so I left a message giving details about the bug and how to remove it.

That done, I shoved the phone back into my pocket, and said, "So tell me why Hunt was killed."

Misha relaxed back into the opposite bag. "He'd reached the end of his usefulness."

"And the fact that you're now talking about him means he wasn't a player, let alone a major player."

"Yes."

"So why not simply tell me his name in the first place?"

"He's dead, so the restrictions on my mentioning his name have gone." His smile was cold. "Besides, it was never part of the agreement that I make things easy for you."

True. But it was occasionally nice to think things could be easy. Stupid, I know. "Then Hunt was simply a means of gathering information?"

"Yes."

"To top-secret military bases."

"And what they were doing. But also a means of keeping an eye on the various investigations, both military and civilian."

"I'm gathering the Directorate wasn't one of those – you already have a man in there."

He smiled. "And here I was thinking no one was aware Gautier was one of us."

"Jack's known about him for ages." Which wasn't exactly the truth, but it couldn't hurt having Misha think we were more aware of the situation than we truly were. "Tell me about Mrs. Hunt."

He simply smiled. Meaning he couldn't, or wouldn't.

"What pack does the woman impersonating Mrs. Hunt come from?"

Again with the silence. Obviously, Mrs. Hunt – or whoever she truly was – was someone we had to keep following.

"What about Kade, then? Why was his partner killed and he kept alive?"

"His partner was killed because they were getting too close to a source. Kade was kept alive simply because he had interesting skills."

He certainly did. "What pack has brown eyes, ringed by blue and amber?"

"The Helki pack, who live around Bendigo." His eyes were chips of glittery ice in the hazy light filling the room. "It's simply a matter of asking the right questions, Riley."

I sipped my beer. "What can you tell me about the Helki pack?"

"They're shifters."

I gave him a deadpan sort of look. "We're all shifters." Even if most shapeshifters actually denied the fact they came from the same base stock as weres.

"Yes, but not all weres are shapeshifters in the same way the Helki pack are."

I frowned. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, some can take different animal shapes, other than just a wolf. And some can take on other human shapes."

"You're kidding."

"No."

This had implications I didn't even want to contemplate. "I'm surprised the Helki pack haven't disappeared into the dark recesses of hidden labs."

His smile was grim. "Who's saying many of them haven't?"

We had to find this other damn lab! Had to stop them. "Is the woman I saw tonight a member of the Helki pack?"

His eyes gleamed with amusement. "I think you're beginning to catch on. She's a clone made using the genes of the Helki pack."

More damn clones. Was there a never ending supply of these bastards? "So was the original Mrs. Hunt human, and did she have the same weirdly colored eyes? If not, how did the replacement explain the sudden difference in eye color?"

"The original was human, and her eyes were very similar to a Helki's in color – brown ringed by blue. And the new Mrs. Hunt retreated from her friends and charities for three weeks. The only person who might have noticed the slight difference would have been her husband – except the two of them have been sexually alienated for some time. They still share a room, but not the same bed."

"So the original is dead?"

"Yes."

I took a swig of beer, then changed tack. "You said once before that the answer lies in my past. In lovers from my past."

"Yes."

"Did you mean long-term or short-term lovers?"

"Very short-term, I believe."

Gee, that was going to make it easy. Particularly if he meant "short-term" as in one-night stand. "How far back in the past?"

He hesitated. "Three and a half years ago."

Great. That was going to be a cinch to remember – particularly if it had happened during the moon phase. I rubbed a hand across my eyes. "How connected is that man to the woman I met tonight?"

"Very connected."

"Sister?"

"No."

"Lover?"

"No."

"What then?"

"That I cannot say."

Could not, or would not? Given the smile touching his lips, I suspected the latter. "Is the man we're talking about from the Helki pack?"

"In the same sense as the woman, yes."

Then the Helki pack definitely had to be checked out. What remained of them, anyway. "Can you give me a description?"

He shrugged. "Brown hair, medium build. Blue eyes."

Ordinary, in other words. Then I frowned. "I thought you said he was a member of the Helki tribe?"

"I did."

"How could he have blue eyes?"

"The color of the eyes change, depending on what form they're wearing."

I raised my eyebrows. "Then why wouldn't the fake Mrs. Hunt just complete the disguise and take on the original's true eye color?"

"Because such transformations take a lot of energy and power. The less you actually have to transform, the longer you can hold the transformation. And the eyes, believe it or not, are one of the hardest items to hold and maintain."

"Them being the windows to the soul and all that."

"Yes." He paused. "Has anyone ever said you've got extremely expressive eyes?"

"No, and I'm not interested in hearing it from you, either."

He smiled. It reminded me of a cat watching a mouse he knew he was about to eat.

"So, the man sent to seduce me three or so years ago wasn't wearing his true form?" Which meant remembering him wasn't going to help anyway.

"No."

I drank some more beer, then asked, "What did he claim to do as a job?"

"I believe he said he was military."

Military? I'd only ever danced with one military man, and had ended up losing part of my heart to him. But it couldn't be Jaskin. He'd been checked and silently approved by the Directorate – there couldn't have been anything remotely dodgy about his past.

And there'd been no other military lovers – had there? I frowned, remembering back to when I'd first met Jaskin. Remembered then the man before him – the man who had introduced us.

He'd come from the same carrier, but had somehow gotten separated from his shipmates and had ended up at the Blue Moon alone. Or so he'd told me. The moon had been two nights from full bloom and the fever had been riding me hard. Though I was with a couple of regular mates at the time, there'd been something about him that attracted me – a dangerous edge that spoke to the wildness. We danced the rest of the evening, and had agreed to meet the following night.

Only, he didn't come back alone. Jaskin and several others had been with him. They, too, had that edge, but something else had just clicked between me and Jaskin, and it was him rather than the first man I danced with all night long.

God, what was the first man's name?

Ben. No, something stranger. Benito. Benito Verdi.

Finally, I had a lead I could follow. It might be a total dead end, but at least it was something.

"Was that blue eyed man the first plant?"

"The first attempt at a plant, yes."

"Why?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what did I do or say at that particular time that tipped you and your lab-mates off to the fact that I was something more than an ordinary wolf?"

"It was actually Gautier who suggested it. He said you were extraordinarily fast for a wolf, and could be a good donor for our labs or other experiments. He also said it was obvious you knew he was about, even when he was shadowed."

Something no wolf could do. But then, why hadn't Gautier also noticed those same facts when it came to Rhoan? Why mention me, and not my brother?

And then it hit me. Rhoan drank blood. That was why they'd never questioned his speed, his reflexes. They all thought he was a wolf who'd performed the ritual ceremony and blood-sharing to become a vampire.

After all, he worked at night, came home at dawn. Well, when he did come home, that is. The Jensen red wolf pack might be a small one in Australia, but our pack had a long history over in England and Ireland, so the fact that he was a Jensen was no clue in itself of his age. No one at the Directorate knew we were brother and sister – no one except Jack and the Director herself – and it certainly wasn't in our files. Hell, even his birth date on file was fake. But then, a lot of vampires did the exact same thing. Fake records was how many of the older vampires had gotten through the centuries undiscovered.

It was very possible to think him a vampire – and a vampire old enough to stand a little daylight.

Which was good for him. Not so good for me. After all, the bastards were still after me.

"So," I said, "you began to watch me?"

He nodded and sipped his beer. His gaze slipped leisurely down my body, his hunger beginning to roll across my flesh in ever-warming waves. Obviously, I'd yet to finish payment for the night. "I even lived in a building across from you for over a year. Believe me, I loved the fact none of your windows had blinds."

I raised an eyebrow. "You played Peeping Tom? And here I was thinking you were at least above that."

"It's in the nature of a male to look." His smile grew. "As it is in the nature of a female to flaunt."

"Flaunting and looking are perfectly fine. Spying is an entirely different matter." I hesitated. "So why you, anyway? Especially seeing it was Talon who was then placed in the position to be my mate?"

He shrugged. "You knew Gautier, and seemed to be too aware of his presence. Talon considered himself beyond a watching brief, and our other clone brother had already failed."

So that blue-eyed man was another clone, like the woman playing Mrs. Hunt? Why then say they were Helki – unless he was counting them as Helki because that was the source of their DNA? "But why not have one of your underlings do it?"

"The man I work for has no trust of underlings. I was ordered to do it, so I did."

I frowned. "You don't look the type to stand back and take orders easily."

"I'm not, but when it comes to this man, I have no choice. There is no real hiding from him, because the five of us are locked in telepathic contact. He is far stronger than the rest of us, and would kill any of us the minute he sensed betrayal. I have no wish to die before my time is truly up."

"So you skirmish from the edges, and send in others to do your dirty work." Like me.

He nodded.

"Then why aren't you dead right now? You're plotting his demise via the Directorate, are you not?"

His smile sent a shiver up my spine. "Yes, I am. But he cannot monitor every thought, every wish, and as long as I avoid certain key words, I can slip under the radar, so to speak."

So the reason he wasn't telling me certain things wasn't so much that he couldn't, more the fact that those words would attract unwanted mental attention.

"Then why try and place a mate on me? Why not simply snatch me?"

"Because of the Directorate, and your friendship with Rhoan. We did not wish to chance discovery, and weren't about to risk it by taking you. Not until we were sure you were worth the effort."

That raised my eyebrows. "Yet by snatching Rhoan, you ensured Directorate notice anyway."

He snorted. "That was Talon's arrogance coming into play. He never would believe the Directorate weren't all fools, or that they would notice his activities if he wasn't more circumspect. Of course, he didn't actually realize the lab had snatched Rhoan – not until after your raid to get him back." Amusement touched his lips. "That was very well done, by the way."

"Thanks."

He nodded. I took another drink of beer, then asked, "Why not kill Talon once we had him?"

"What was the point? Talon can tell you nothing."

Because the knowledge had been burned away. "So, originally, the plan was for Talon to keep an eye on me?"

He nodded again. "Of course, we didn't actually witness any of the abilities Gautier mentioned until recently."

"You mean the wolf who shot me with silver and recorded the whole event?"

"Yes. Seeing you shadow like that confirmed what Gautier had been saying all along."

"So why then? Why not try something like that earlier?"

"Because the day before, Gautier witnessed you taking out two vamps. No wolf, no matter how fast they are or how young the vampires are, should be able to do that. He demanded we do a test. This time, he was listened to."

So Gautier was the reason my life had headed down the toilet of late. Or, at least, he was partially responsible. If I'd walked away from the nightclub that night, ignored curiosity and the scent of blood on the wind, then maybe my life would have been normal. Or as normal as it could have been given Talon had decided I'd make the perfect incubator for his "perfect" child.

But if I had walked away, all of those people in the club would have died, rather than just some of them. And the knowledge that I could have stopped it and didn't would have been even harder to live with than all the crap I was currently going through.

"If you were my watcher initially, why then was Talon placed on me rather than you?"

"Simple. After months of doing nothing but watching you every night, I wanted you fiercely. And that's the very reason he placed Talon on you."

And I'd fallen for Talon's bait – hook, line, and sinker. But then, his bait had certainly been impressive. "Your boss sounds a petty man."

"He is because he was taught to be." He caught my foot in his hands, his expression becoming slightly distracted as he began to knead my instep.

"But if you were ordered to stay away from me, how come you ended up being my mate anyway?"

His grin was sudden, and more than a little malicious. "Because it pissed Talon off."

"So the man behind all this knew you were also trying to get me pregnant?"

"Yes."

"Then why was I kidnapped and placed in that breeding center?"

"They saw an opportunity and grabbed it." He paused. "Over ninety percent of clones and ninety-five percent of their lab-bred crosses are sterile, and they have yet to ascertain why."

"I'm facing those same fertility issues," I reminded him. "No one is actually sure if I can get pregnant, either."

"No, no one is sure whether you can carry to term. Right now, you're totally capable of becoming pregnant."

I didn't bother refuting his assumptions. "So who was fucking me in that breeding center? The man with the blue eyes who thinks that I owe him?"

"Yes."

"Was he the only one?"

"No."

"Then who else?"

"One of the men behind the man."

And thanks to the accident, I couldn't remember a goddamn thing. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Because he was there to give instructions, and because he likes a hot bit of tail."

"I'm gathering he prefers his tail lifeless."

My voice was dry, and Misha smiled again. "Feisty is not a preferred option – but it just might hook him where subservience hasn't."

I raised my eyebrows. "That a piece of advice?"

"A dangerous one, but yes."

"Also useless if you don't give me a name."

"All things come in time, Riley."

I was betting it was going to be a long time before I got the name, though. "So why was he there passing on instructions rather than the big man himself?"

"Because it is safer."

But safe from what? Certainly not us, because we had no idea who he was. Not yet, anyway. I studied him for a moment, then said, "If your boss is so dangerous, why are you here now?"

He raised an eyebrow. "If I answer honestly, I want another two hours with you."

Like I had a choice? Like I'd even know if he was being honest? I shrugged. "Whatever."

"The reason is twofold. First, I've long been at odds with my lab-mates and our so-called leader. Their vision has never been mine."

Meaning the leader of this little crew wasn't a lab-mate? Then who – or what – was he? "And their vision is?"

"As I said before, originally it was a quest for perfection. The desire to create the perfect humanoid, one possessing the most desirable characteristics from all branches of humanity."

"I'm guessing that changed when your master of creation died in the fire."

He nodded. "Now it's more a quest for domination and power."

It was on my lips to ask for his name, but he wouldn't answer a direct question. "Did a brother from a previous batch of clones take over?"

"No. We were the first batch to have survivors into adulthood."

"Then who?"

He raised an eyebrow, a smile touching his thin lips. "His son."

I frowned. "One of your later clone-mates?"

"No. His naturally born son."

That wasn't in any of the records I'd read. And obviously not in the records Jack had read – unless, of course, he did know about the son, and just hadn't told me. Given Jack played his cards seriously close to his chest and I was only a liaison, not an actual guardian, that was all too possible.

"There's no record of said son," I stated.

"No. He was born to one of the women he was using to take eggs from. Our lab father apparently thought it better not to register the birth."

Yet he'd registered his clones, even if he'd lied about what they actually were.

"That would have made getting credit and insurance cards a bitch," I stated dryly.

Amusement briefly warmed the cold depths of his eyes. "Not when you have the ability to assume other people&#03