WYND TEMPTRESS.

Kathryn Anne Dubois.

Chapter One.

Adam Wydner would have recognized Jezermiah Cameron, a.k.a. Jesse Calhoun, self-elected mayor of Chinook, even without the detailed information he had been given to locate her. Purple eyes were as rare in 2150 as fuel-injected engines. Even from this distance of twenty-five feet, her eyes were clear and bright against a ma.s.s of the blackest hair he had ever seen on such a fair-skinned woman. She was an unusual mix in every way, down to the fragile build that graced her tall frame.

He focused in on her, blocking out all other stimuli.

She was ordering around a group of muscle-bound males who looked intent on doing damage to anyone who crossed her. And yet, the merest of breezes looked sufficient to whisk her away. Although that was impossible, since she was the wind. The wind to her two sisters'

fire and water. All believed to be level five psychics.

Until now he hadn't understood why he was called out of retirement for this mission.

Now, in his mind, there was no question.

She was his.

The conviction wrapped around him and settled within his soul like a long awaited homecoming. He couldn't take his eyes off her. The slender column of her throat disappeared under a flannel chambray s.h.i.+rt that looked two sizes too big for her, and the heavy work pants she wore did nothing to hide the delicate curve of her hips. He could feel her intensity.

As he sat in his parked skimmer watching her, he concentrated his gaze on the graceful hollow where throat met collarbone, wis.h.i.+ng he could press his lips to the translucent skin. He watched her fidget. While she issued instructions, her slim fingers stroked her neck, and she gave a furtive glance around before returning her attention to her men.

It pleased him that she could sense him. That is, she sensed something. She wouldn't yet know that she belonged to him.

And he suspected that convincing her would be considerably harder than the mission itself. His groin stirred at the suggestion of how he would accomplish that.

At first he had hoped to be a.s.signed to kidnap the one who was fire, which sent his imagination into overdrive with images of what her name might imply. But looking now at the oldest of the sisters made him change his mind. The heat simmering within him as he studied her would prove enough for them both.

As he continued to watch her, he invaded her mind, planting a thought. You will come to me.

He paused a moment longer before he started his skimmer and drove past the row of vehicles lined along the wooden planked sidewalk until he came to the end. He pulled into the last s.p.a.ce and cut the power. The sleek vehicle hummed to stillness.

As usual, when he stepped out he felt embraced in a time warp. After the successful global rebellion fifty years ago, few towns had escaped unscathed and this small town in Alaska was no exception. But while the major cities had been completely destroyed, other more isolated regions like this had enough intact to start up again.

Satellite dishes stood tall in the distance, but the hard-packed mud street he walked on held only traces of the smooth white stone for which Alaskan streets had been famous. With a plent.i.tude of oil at its disposal, the fibergla.s.s-kinetic material was developed by Alaska in 2100 and had been imported worldwide.

The planked sidewalks and log storefronts that now graced Main Street made the town look like a two-hundred-year-old western starring John Wayne and was a necessary result of a sector that cherished its autonomy. The newly self-proclaimed nation of Alaska had no intention of being dependent on anything it couldn't produce or mine itself, like brick or stone, but it had plenty of trees.

And water and s.p.a.ce-even oil, if things got really desperate. Which was the problem. The newly formed League of World Government Sectors needed Alaska to join them. They needed its resources to help rebuild the rest of the North American continent. And if Alaska stubbornly refused to do so, it might encourage other rebellious sectors to follow suit.

To be fair, Alaska wasn't the only government looking to take a break from a unified anything.

He half-agreed with them. He understood their caution. Which is why he had wondered why Shannon Riedel, the Psychic Sensory Investigations Agency Director, wanted only him and no others on this mission to determine Jezermiah's intentions and her level of psychic abilities. When his long-term friend and mentor had insisted that he held the key to Jezermiah' s cooperation, he had trusted her too much to question. Whatever the reason, she would reveal it in time.

The tall, lithe G.o.ddess was now standing with her hands on her small hips and ordering a group of her lackeys to haul every bench they could find into the meeting hall as the streets and sidewalks continued to teem with people.

She grabbed a tangle of her long thick hair with one hand and was threading it through a cloth tie as Adam approached the door to the hall. He would hardly draw attention today since strangers from all over gathered for the first meeting to discuss California's water needs and how Alaska could benefit by trading its water for food.

His boots clicked along the wooden sidewalk. He lowered the wide brim of his black hat, planning to slip right past her, when she turned suddenly and faced him dead on. For the briefest of seconds her eyes flared and then turned impa.s.sive again. She gave a generic nod of acknowledgement, about to face her men, when she fixed her gaze on him again.

There was no way she could have recognized him from anywhere. Unless, of course, it was true that she was a psychic of the highest level. His blood warmed at the thought of colliding with a beauty so powerful. As powerful as him.

"Who are you?" She blinked her thick lashes and seemed startled by her own question.

Had she felt him transferring his desire to her? He withdrew the transfer lest she grow wary of him.

"That is," she s.h.i.+fted her weight, "are you here representing some special interest group? You look familiar."

She had a husky voice so at odds with her feminine stature. But one that fit with her tough stance.

If he lied, she would know it. He carefully blocked any thoughts of his purpose or the l.u.s.tful ideas running rampant in his system.

"We have never met, ma'am." He tipped his hat. "My name's Adam Wydner." He stepped forward and extended his hand.

She nodded. "Jesse Calhoun."

As soon as he got within a foot of her, the aura surrounding her nearly knocked him flat. His body was like a magnet drawn to its polar opposite. Her scent filled him with a rich mixture of female musk and lilac. The urge to touch her was powerful. He stuffed down his reaction lest she sense it, reeling himself with the strong sensation.

d.a.m.ned if he didn't feel an erection stirring in his coa.r.s.e denim pants as he gazed down into her face. If he didn't rein in his l.u.s.t for her it was bound to be noticed.

She seemed hesitant to take his hand. She licked her lips and took a little breath. Then, business-like again, she extended her hand. "Mr. Wydner," she said with a curt nod.

When their fingers touched, his body lit like a torch.

He forced himself not to squeeze her small hand in a fierce grip, willing himself instead to break the contact. But he couldn't seem to do it. He was sure his expression showed no sign of his inner turmoil, but his pulse was beating at a frantic pace and he could feel the head of his c.o.c.k sliding down his thigh. It was as though she had cast a spell on him even though he knew better. He should have been prepared after all these years. It was bound to happen that fate would one day deliver his soul mate.

He forced a smile and slid his fingers along her palm in an effort to let go of her, but it didn't come easy. A small gust of wind kicked up through the wooden slats beneath their feet, stirring up dust. Was she warning him off? He mentally berated himself-she was a psychic, not a witch. If she chose to use her power over wind, she could do better than that.

He finally broke contact. She looked a little stunned and stepped back as soon as he released her. Her bodyguards formed a protective circle around her.

Barely two seconds in her presence and he had almost blown his cover. Pretending that he hadn't noticed the cavalry forming, he gave a nod. "Well, ma'am, I'll just grab a s.p.a.ce in there before it gets too crowded."

His quick exit saved him from answering her other question about whether he represented a special interest group. If she guessed he was here for the PSI Agency she'd bolt. It had taken them years to find her. It had taken him a lifetime.

Chapter Two.

Jesse sat off to the side of the stage, listening to the engineer she had just introduced explain the plans for the proposed pipeline. She gave a small sigh of relief that the meeting was proceeding smoothly.

After she had recapped California's proposal to purchase water from Alaska, she had fielded questions about user fees, royalties, and who would pay for the pipeline bringing the water.

Chinook sat in the heart of the largest lake system in Alaska, so if the proposal went through, it would be a major supplier to California. The impact on the small isolated town would be impossible to predict, but still every contingency needed to be addressed and considered.

The food that California couldn't grow without water was sought by Alaskans. Although fish and game were plentiful, Alaskan's needed a year round supply of grains and vegetables. Jesse couldn't help but think of her sister Rayne struggling in California.

She wished she could see her and her youngest sister, Carmella, too. The last she knew Carmella was in Ohio. Carmella had been only ten and Rayne twelve when, for their own safety, their grandmother Maile had separated them, keeping each of their destinations secret from each other.

As the engineer explained where the proposed pipeline would go, she thought about the last time she had seen her small family. Jesse barely remembered her mother since she had died giving birth to Carmella, but her grandmother had taught Jesse everything she knew. The one who warned her about her psychic gifts and her unusual power over the wind. Jesse had seen evidence of it here in Chinook. Like a gentle breeze that stirred the long gra.s.s, Jesse, with the mildest of comments could cause an entire group of citizens to change direction, no matter what the controversy. When she was younger, she credited it to her confident demeanor or an uncanny conviction in her voice, but now she knew it for what it was. A legacy left to her by her evil great-grandfather.

Whether a gentle breeze that naturally turned people in her direction or a fierce wind that could destroy everything in its wake, Jesse wanted no part of her paranormal power over the wind. She finally understood what her grandmother tried to counsel her about. She just wished she understood better her grandmother's other counsel for her to be careful with whom she fell in love. Jesse missed her and had regretted her last words to her.

Her grandmother had been heart-broken over separating the girls and sending them away. Even at that time, Jesse had understood that her grandmother feared for them due to another wave of paranoia seizing the region. The climate for psychics was once again becoming dangerous.

Still, Jesse had always been the one to look out for her younger sisters, repeating the warning of her grandmother to hide their powers, even from their grandfather. She argued with her grandmother that day, telling her that she was old and her powers were weakening, but that she and her sisters were strong. They knew how to be careful and it was wrong of their grandmother to separate them. When her grandmother refused to listen, Jesse railed at her, saying that she hated her.

It was the last thing she remembered, besides the image of Carmella crying and Rayne comforting both Carmella and their grandmother.

Jesse had been fifteen at the time and had run away rather than be sent to some compound where she would be protected for the rest of her life. No one was going to cage her in. She had been careful, reinventing herself continually until years later when she finally found a place where she could blend in. It was another piece of advice her grandmother had often recommended they do when they grew up. She settled into the isolated town of Chinook. It had been perfect.

For many years after their separation, she and her sisters had contacted each other on that anniversary, chaining a communication. But it had been a very long time since they had risked it again. When bands of renegade psychics had been discovered trying to take over new governments, the climate for psychics had become more hostile. The quest by the PSI agents to root out any others had stepped up and rumors circulated that any high level psychics were being hunted and killed. She and her sisters had to suspend use of their powers until it was safer.

Although it saddened Jesse to have no contact at all with her sisters, she had no trouble putting aside her powers. She had no interest in being a level five psychic. The knowledge of her gifts had brought her sorrow all her life. And the legacy of her great-grandfather, Tyre Leyton, was one that she abhorred. Every female in her line had suffered as a result of his evil machinations.

All the female descendants of Tyre Leyton had been born with gifts. None of their mates were psychic or held powers of any kind. Nonetheless, Jesse believed that the worst possible thing she could do was to breed with a psychic, especially one as powerful as herself.

What if she created the next Tyre Leyton? The thought sent a s.h.i.+ver down her spine.

In Chinook, Jezermiah had always been just Jesse. She never did anything that would cause her neighbors to think she had special powers of any kind. She intended to keep it that way.

She felt a sudden sense of unease.

The strange sensation that had traveled along her neck earlier returned, but now it was sliding over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s like a warm caress. Her nipples tightened. She drew in a sharp breath and sat straighter as though she was caught doing something naughty. Then a s.e.xual heat flared in her belly and moved down between her legs. A rush of moisture flooded her.

She squirmed in her seat on the stage, trying to shake off the peculiar sensual tremors as her eyes skimmed the audience below her.

Her gaze halted when it settled on the man she had seen earlier. He was leaning against a back corner wall, his long legs crossed in front of him in a casual stance that did nothing to erase the dangerous look of him.

She mentally corrected herself. It wasn't his look that had signaled danger to her, although the hard angular lines of his face and rough shadowed jaw didn't help. And his eyes were mesmerizing. Black, intense, as though he could hypnotize a person who was lulled into staring into his eyes longer than it was safe.

Rather, it was an impression she received, a hunch. All level fives had the gift without having to call it up. It was just there, surfacing at unexpected times. With this man it was triggered by his scent when he had moved close to her. A rich masculine scent to his skin that had alerted her, called up her senses, and sent knowledge she didn't know she possessed. The knowledge that this man was a danger to her. It wasn't clear, yet, in what way.

She could call up her powers to discover what he was up to. Touch his thoughts, even plant an opposing idea in his mind, but she refused to do that.

She would not use any of the powers gifted to her by her evil great-grandfather. She would find out this man's intentions the same way everyone else did-through logic and intelligence.

She gave a mental shrug and tried to turn her attention back to the engineer, but like a magnet drawn to its opposite, her eyes couldn't pull away from him. Yet, this time he was too far away for its cause to be the aura that had surrounded him and that had captured her on the front porch.

She frowned. And then without warning, the s.e.xual heat that teased her turned to a molten fire that swelled her s.e.x. The feeling was so powerful she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

She couldn't see his eyes, hidden beneath the wide brim of his hat, but even from this distance she could see his jaw move and see the strong chords of muscle that ran along his throat flex with tension.

She narrowed her gaze, trying to detect if he was staring at her and purposely trying to make her uncomfortable. A woman didn't have to be psychic or telepathic to feel when a man was undressing her with his eyes. And if that was the only danger he posed it was a relief. She could certainly handle him.

While she simmered, he crossed his arms over his broad chest. Then, to her annoyance, he tipped up the brim of his hat and stared openly, his gaze unflinching. She raised a brow, but he didn't so much as blink.

Arrogant b.a.s.t.a.r.d. What was his game anyway? A small trickle of sweat pooled between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Whatever it was, she wasn't playing.

And he wasn't worth brooding over.

Except that when he stared at her, she wasn't uncomfortable exactly...she was aroused.

Chapter Three.

Adam slipped out of the meeting before it was over. He had seen enough.

If she was living as a psychic or even exercising undue influence over the population of Chinook, he couldn't see it. In fact, other than her cla.s.sic beauty, she blended in as well as anyone.

He wouldn't find out anything more hanging around here. Not until he isolated her in the Agency's protective environment would he know.

He would spend the rest of the day reviewing his plans to kidnap her.

Adam slipped into her bedroom later that night, glad that he decided to kidnap her while she slept, because it gave him the advantage of having her half-naked when he did.

He gazed down at her sprawled figure lying across the bed, tummy down and long limbs tangled in the sheets. Her luscious bottom was barely covered by a delicate sc.r.a.p of ivory lace and the T-s.h.i.+rt she wore was hiked up past her waist.

All he could see of her face under the tumble of dark waves were full lips relaxed by sleep, glistening with moisture in the moonlight, and a light flush coloring high cheekbones. Every cell in his body reacted. In the s.p.a.ce of a breath, he was hard...throbbing hard.

He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. How was he going to make it through the next several days of interrogation while sporting a constant erection?

Maybe he needed to resolve that conflict first.

But even as he thought it, he doubted she'd cooperate.

He eased down beside her, wanting to wake her before he administered the Bellaveter. It was a powerful yet harmless drug. When she came to, he wanted her to remember the preceding moments so it would lessen the shock of her kidnapping.

He lifted a thick curl off her cheek and stroked lightly along her jaw line. She frowned, her small straight nose crinkling until she gave a soft sigh and then relaxed again.