"These pictures were taken while Mark and Aimee were still in the Labs," she whispered, seeing the nudity of Aimee's upper-body shot, as well as her disinterest in herself and her surroundings. "I've seen a few of the Breed files at the Academy. They didn't allow them to wear clothing."

She looked up, watching as Braden pulled sandwiches from the refrigerator and poured himself another cup of coffee.

"We weren't human, so why did we need clothing," he grunted as he moved around the kitchen, fixing more coffee as he snacked on the food.

He ate a lot; dinner had been finished an hour before and she was sure he had eaten enough for three grown men.

She turned her attention back to the laptop and the two files he had pulled up for her.

Breathing out wearily, she pushed her hair back from her face, wishing now that she had taken the time to braid it before coming down from her shower. The thick ma.s.s never failed to slip over her shoulder. It also had the effect of making her feel softer, more feminine, when it was loose and unbound. It was a weakness she couldn't afford right now. The attraction burning between them wasn't dimming; it was only growing stronger. She needed something to douse it, not strengthen her inability to run from it.

"Mark and Aimee were created in France." He sat across from her. "To the best of my knowledge, they had never been in the States until a year ago, when they were rescued and relocated to the Breed Compound in Virginia.

There are no records of any overseas missions. Just as there are no records of any trips you could have made out of the States."

There was a definite question in his voice.

Megan lifted her gaze from the computer screen and met his evenly.

"I've never been out of the States, Braden." She let a smile of amus.e.m.e.nt tug at her lips. It was obviously not the answer he wanted to hear. "And to my knowledge, I've never met these Breeds."

But they were familiar.

She turned back to the photos, wanting to frown at the odd p.r.i.c.kling of recognition, but aware of how closely he was watching her.

"Why did you come back here after training at the Academy?"

"Didn't we go over this earlier?" she protested, swallowing past the lump of nervousness in her throat.

"You had excellent marks until your final training mission where your instructor was injured. After that you resigned, packed up and came home, despite several very lucrative offers from both public and private sectors."

She leaned back in her chair, refusing to look at him as she felt the demand filling the air. He deserved the truth.

He was working with her and that put him in danger. He needed to know that.

"It's complicated," she finally sighed.

"I'm a smart guy." He seemed to bite the words out. "I'm sure I'll follow along just fine."

She looked at him then, catching the glittering suspicion in his eyes as he watched her.

"It has nothing to do with these Breeds," she finally answered, flicking the fingers of one hand toward the laptop. "It's a personal issue, Braden."

"Not any longer, Megan." He sat his cup down, leaning forward as he braced his hands on the top of the table and crowded over her. "My people are dying in this desert. Mark and Aimee left Sanctuary and drove straight here, into a trap, in a section of the desert patrolled by you. A search of their computer files showed that they had done a search on you before leaving. They were coming here to find you. Somehow the Council learned of it and sent those Coyotes to kill them and you, using their bodies to draw you in. Why?"

Guilt slammed through her. She jumped from her chair, facing him squarely now. She fisted her hands to keep them from shaking as she blinked back the moisture in her eyes. She didn't want him to see her for the failure she was. Unable to control her own abilities, a liability to anyone who fought beside her.

"Answer me, Megan." He caught her again, this time his grip tight enough on her upper arm to ensure she wasn't going anywhere, while careful to leave no marks.

The Academy had been five years of h.e.l.l. She excelled because the strenuous work required complete focus. During training, she had gained some relief from the stress, the fears and the often volatile personalities who had come together in one area. It had amazed her, the number of the recruits who were there simply to act out the violence that raged inside them.

"Tell me why you're hiding. What did you see, Megan? Why are you cowering in this d.a.m.ned desert like a child afraid of the dark?"

"Because I am scared of the dark." She raged, her control breaking. Tears filled her eyes as she stared up at him, trembling, terrified that he could be right. That she had possibly seen something, felt or sensed something that she was unaware of. Or worse, that she had ignored something that had caused those deaths, that somehow she could have prevented the violence.

"Let me go." She pulled out of his grip, refusing to meet his gaze as she turned her back on him and swiped at the tear that escaped her control and fell from her eyes. "I'm an Empath, Braden." She fought the pain welling inside her, the dreams she had run from in the face of reality. "I hide in this f.u.c.king desert because it's quiet. Because there's no one around me for miles; no emotions, no fears or rage to batter at my d.a.m.ned head. Because I can function here." Her throat tightened at the admission.

Megan pushed her fingers in her hair, clenching at the strands as she fought for control amid the chaotic emotions raging inside her now. These were her emotions, her fears, and they were just as debilitating as the talent that allowed her to feel others.

"Empath?" his voice was thoughtful now, the anger of moments ago now throttled.

"I can't stand crowds, period. I can barely function here, in the town I've lived in all my life. Until you, I've never been around another human being I could tolerate for longer than a few hours at a time." She turned back to him, her own anger tightening her body as she fought demons she knew she could never win against. "I was in my late teens before it began developing; I couldn't hide it. Most Empaths develop sooner, at a time when it's possible for their brains to create the necessary shields to protect them. It didn't happen that way for me. I'm helpless against the influx of emotions and latent violence most human beings harbor. I can't protect myself from it. I thought I could make it in the Academy." She shook her head wearily, the guilt eating her alive. "It was my dream and I was determined to have it until I was nearly the cause of my instructor's death during our last training exercise. After that_" She breathed in harshly, wrapping her arms around herself and fighting back the pain. "After that, I just came home. Lance gave me a job with the sheriff's department and I tried to content myself with it."

Megan turned away from him, unable to risk staring into his eyes, perhaps seeing the condemnation she always felt she deserved.

"Then why join the Law Enforcement Academy to begin with?" he asked quietly.

"Because I was stupid." Her laugh was filled with bitter mockery. "I was stubborn, so stubborn, and too young to understand what I was getting myself into. That was my dream, and in my selfishness, I was determined to have it.

My barriers are strong enough to protect me if others are careful to tone down their emotions, which my friends and family had always done. The real world_" She breathed out heavily as she pushed her fingers through her hair, feeling once again the guilt she had never forgotten. "I found out how ill prepared I really was."

"But it's absent with me?" She felt him move closer. "Why?"

"The h.e.l.l if I know." She turned back, surprised to find his chest no more than a few inches from her. G.o.d, how she wanted to lean against him.

"There's a calm around you, some sort of natural barrier that, if I'm close enough, I can draw from." She shook her head in confusion.

He was silent, watching her intently. His eyes darkened to the color of old gold and began to glitter with heat.

"I'm not scared," she bit out. the bitterness that lived inside rising like a demon intent on destroying her.

"I want to live. I want to fight, and by G.o.d I want to kick a.s.s as much as anyone I've ever known. I dreamed of being part of the Breed rescues and had to back out of the program when recruits were chosen for the task force. I could be working anywhere, everywhere. But I'm a danger; not just to myself but also to anyone working with me. I can't take that risk."

"Megan, you can't live like this." When he touched her, she flinched.

Despite the gentleness of his hands, the soft rumble of his voice, she could feel the sense of failure inside her. She had failed herself, and she was failing him. "I don't have a choice." She shook her head, attempting to pull away from him, to put some distance between them.

Didn't he know what his touch did to her? What it made her ache for? He could touch her and she wasn't seeing the deaths he had been part of, she wasn't feeling the brutality of his past or the violent anger she knew he felt toward the Coyotes. She felt the heat of his body, the calloused warmth of his hands; she felt a hunger that she knew was her own and it terrified her. Because she knew, once he was gone, she would never have it again.

"We all have choices." The dark baritone was a caress itself as his other hand landed on her hip, holding her in place each time she attempted to move away from him."Stay still, Megan. You said you're calm when I'm near. That my emotions don't batter you; they don't bring you pain. Why?"

"I don't know." Her hands lay against his chest, and she knew she should be pushing him away. But she couldn't.

He warmed her, took away the cold and replaced it with heat. "And I don't need to be babied by you. Do you think I want to get used to it, Braden? That I want to let myself use someone else's defenses for my own?" Her fists clenched at the thought as she forced herself to push away from him, to leave the shelter he provided.

"G.o.d. I don't need you to protect me any more than I need my family doing it."

"What you need is your a.s.s paddled for attempting to fight this alone." He growled, his frustration apparent in his voice.

"Keep threatening to paddle me, Braden, and I'm going to make you regret it." Her eyes narrowed on him. This was the second threat.

"Or I'll make you enjoy it," he snapped back. "There are natural barriers to protect you from this, Megan. Why haven't you found them?"

"Do you think I haven't looked?' Why did men always think it was just a matter of finding something?

"I've got a library of self-help books, Braden. I've watched every doc.u.mentary and tried every f.u.c.king yin and yang psychological trick I can come up with. They don't work."

He was too calm now, too calculating.

"Did you suspect?" She felt tension fanning inside her as the suspicion began to grow in her mind.

"Of course I suspected." His eyes were narrowed on her as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I didn't realize how debilitating it was, but I suspected you possessed the gift. I watched you in that canyon, Megan. You knew before the Coyotes fired. You sensed the danger and the death before you ever stepped foot from that Raider. It was only logical to a.s.sume you were Empathic."

She blinked back at him in shock. "And you never said anything?"

"What was there to say?' He shrugged negligently, his eyes still narrowed on her, his gaze considering. "All the signs were there."

"Is that why we've spent the day going over the murder scenes?" She kept her voice low, her fury contained. "You did it deliberately?"

His brow arched in challenge. "Of course. You have the ability to find the answers. I don't."

She breathed in roughly. "And now?"

"And now, we'll go back." His voice hardened. "We'll work on your shields when this is over. When you're safe. But now, you need the edge to stay alive. We'll go back and you will work at figuring it out."

"No." The snarl was one of fury, betrayal. He was f.u.c.king using her. "I'll be d.a.m.ned if I will. I can't figure it out, Braden. Do you think I haven't tried?"

"That's exactly what I think." His voice hardened. "I think you've grown so used to hiding that it's become automatic. That the trauma of the gift coming so late, the inability to produce an adequate barrier against it, has resulted in an ineffective barrier. The pain gets in, the emotions and the shock of the intensity of the violence throw up just enough of a shield to keep the truth out, while allowing the pain to build. We'll work on that, too."

She stared back at him in horror. "You're serious."

"Of course I'm serious." His expression was completely confident. "You can't afford to hide, Megan. These gifts_"

"It's a curse. At least call it what it is," she snapped out furiously. "And I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'll go back to the murder scene. There's nothing there. I tried."

"You didn't try. You hid. No more hiding."

Incredulity filled her.

"f.u.c.k you!" She snarled.

"We'll get around to that, too." His answer had her gasping for breath, grasping for control. If she had had a gun in her hand she would have shot him.

"You used me," she threw back at him, becoming more enraged by the second. "The trips to the crime scenes, the tender little touches, the flirting. You've been using me. Nothing more."

"Don't kid yourself, cupcake." He snorted, a derisive little smile curling his lips as his gaze raked over her heaving b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "My d.i.c.k's so hard and ready to show you otherwise that I wouldn't advise pushing this little boundary if I were you." The growl in his voice impaled her and sent lightning whipping over her nerve endings, tightening her c.l.i.t. Arousal and l.u.s.t, pulsing, red-hot and destructive, seared her womb.

Her juices gathered, flowed, moistening the outer lips, preparing her as the rage and l.u.s.t seemed to feed from one to the other until every cell in her body and overly sensitive mind began to sizzle.

"You'll show me nothing," she cried out raggedly, betrayal slicing at her chest at the realization that while she was fighting to survive, he was determined to destroy her by making her experience the nightmares awaiting her in that gully. "You will pack up now and get the h.e.l.l out of my house." She drew herself upright sharply. "I'd rather face the Coyotes than deal with your lies."

"My lies?' He stepped closer, stalking her, his head lowered. His leonine mane flowed around the savage features of his face as the golden eyes glittered warningly. "I told no lies, Megan. I held nothing back. I've asked you for the truth for days, and you have lied."

"I didn't know anything. I don't know anything."

"And you don't want to know." Before she could stop him, before she could run, his arm snaked around her back, jerking her to him as his head lowered farther, his gaze locking with hers. "Well, baby, you might be able to hide from the rest but I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'll let you hide from this any longer."

His intent was instantly apparent. Megan's eyes widened, her fingers forming fists as she pressed against his wide shoulders, her feet fighting to find traction to jerk away from him. To escape the inescapable as his lips covered hers.

Time stood still. Nothing existed; nothing moved or breathed except Braden. His parted lips stole her breath.

His tongue pushed past hers, sinking into the surprised depths of her mouth as a sudden taste of spice and heat exploded against her taste buds. The dark, rich taste had her lips moving, clasping the intruder as he licked, stroked. She met his tongue with her own, dancing around it as she attempted to draw more of the blistering taste into her mouth.

She had to fill herself with it, sate her senses with its unique heat as she fought to define the exact taste whipping through her mouth. There was no description. It was lightning and a summer storm. It was cinnamon and saffron, honey and sugar. And it was accompanied by the most incredibly pleasurable kiss she could have imagined.

As usual, Braden asked for nothing. He swept in and conquered. Claimed. She could feel the claiming in the hard hands that pulled her closer to his body, in the length of the erection pressing against her lower stomach, and gloried in it.

She was doing some claiming of her own. Her hands sank into his hair, her fingertips glorying in the feel of the thick, coa.r.s.e strands that fell well below his wide shoulders. Her hips arched as his hands moved to the rounded curves of her rear, lifting her, notching her thighs into his as his c.o.c.k pressed against her swollen s.e.x.

She needed to breathe, to scream out in pleasure, but the need for his kiss was stronger. The taste that filled her captivated her, just as he had captivated her since the moment she first saw him.

His tongue nudged against hers imperiously. She tangled with it, stroked it as a warning growl sounded in his chest. She could feel the hard, swollen glands beneath his tongue, knew the taste was spilling from them, and craved more. She needed more.

"Now." He growled as he drew back, nipping at her lips as she tilted her head, slanting against her mouth and fighting to pull his tongue back.

"Suck it. Ease me, Megan.''

His tongue speared into her mouth and her lips closed on it, drawing him in deeper as she began a hesitant suckling motion. He began to thrust in and out of her lips. The erotic action had them both moaning as the blood began to boil in Megan's body, burning along her nerve endings, searing her mind.

White-hot pleasure was whipping through her now. She shook in his grip, trembling as the ache in her p.u.s.s.y became deeper, sharper. G.o.d, she needed him. Hungered for him. A hot, dark moan echoed in his chest as her whimpers grew in volume and the kiss became rapacious, his tongue thrusting in and out of her hot grip as she writhed against him. She had known it would be like this. Lightning hot, destructive. The pleasure was so intense, so deep, she wondered how she would survive when he left.

"Come here." She moaned as he lifted his head then dipped again for another kiss.

He pulled back again, ignoring her needy little moan, the demand that he return to the kiss. That he return the unique flavor to her mouth, to allow her to relish it, to sate herself on it.

Her head fell back as his lips traveled over her neck, his tongue licking at her flesh, sending riotous impulses zigzagging through her nervous system at the faintest hint of the roughness of his tongue. It was perfect. Not sandpapery; not smooth.

"Braden, G.o.d, I can't think." She gasped as his head lifted, the incredible taste of him still lingering on her lips, the feel of his tongue echoing on her flesh.

"Don't think." He growled, his lips at the swell of her breast, his tongue stroking the flesh there in long, slow licks. "d.a.m.n, you taste good, Megan. Sweet and hot, like sin itself."

"Enough!" She struggled against him, her fists pressing against his chest as his hand moved to her thigh, his fingers coming too close to the blazing center of her body. G.o.d, she needed his touch. Had needed it for days. And now it was so close, satisfaction so near that she could taste it. It tasted of cinnamon and brown sugar. Of nutmeg and male heat. Pure male heat.

"Enough?" He grunted the word, the rough growl in his voice sending shudders quaking through her body as the animalistic sound seemed to echo around her.

"This won't solve anything." She tore from his grip, very well aware that he had let her go, and that it had nothing to do with her own strength, which had completely deserted her now. Even her d.a.m.ned knees were still shaking.

"It will solve many things." His gaze was heavy-lidded, his expression possessive, l.u.s.tful. "You're mine, Megan. You know it as well as I do. You've sensed it from the very beginning. You know it."