Obsession Untamed (Feral Warriors #2)(22)

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why don’t we both get out of here, Tighe? I can get you some help.”

“You’d help me, would you, brown eyes?” His thumb rose to stroke her cheek as if he had fluttering angel voices of his own telling him she needed him, too.

She didn’t. Of course she didn’t. Yet, heaven help her, something soft and weak inside her wanted to lean into that gentle touch. She steeled herself against the urge, but didn’t pull away. He was clearly a violent man she didn’t want to antagonize. Not when she was unarmed. But the truth was, she didn’t want to pull away. Angel voices aside, there was something about this man that drew her, something more than the flaming attraction.

There was a gentleness in his touch and a warmth in his voice that made her want to step inside the circle of his arms and lean against him, drawing strength and maybe just a little bit of comfort.

Was it more evidence of mind control, or was this her doing alone? Maybe she was starting to suffer from Stockholm Syndrome, that tendency of captives to identify with and care for their captors. She wasn’t sure which was more disturbing.

Or perhaps it was neither. Perhaps she was genuinely beginning to glimpse facets of a man who was more than he seemed.

His hand lifted, his fingers sliding into her hair, sending a soft shiver through her body. “I’m glad I didn’t hurt you.”

And, heaven help her, she believed him.

His thumb traced over her bottom lip, sending shards of excitement spiking into her blood. Her breath caught. She could feel his gaze on her mouth.

“I want to kiss you, brown eyes, but I’ve forced you enough.”

His words sent rich, warm desire pouring through her, turning her br**sts heavy and her body aching to feel his mouth on hers again even as they lent more credence to her belief that he might be more than he seemed. A man who wasn’t evil but had definitely gotten himself tangled up in some nasty stuff.

She knew rationalizing when she heard it, even in her own head. She wanted him to kiss her.

“Your friends…”

“Are busy. And not going to bother us.”

She made a wry twist with her mouth. “And you don’t care if they do.”

He smiled, flashing a pair of sexy-as-hell dimples. “No.”

Ripples of need raced through her body, and she gave herself up to the desire, captured his strong face between her hands and pulled his mouth down to hers.

Some small part of her brain shouted that this was all part of the plan to get him to let his guard down, but the shout was quickly drowned out by the roar of pure, unadulterated passion.

Tighe shuddered and sucked in air through his nose as if trying to inhale her. His arms went around her and he pulled her against his chest as he captured her mouth in return.

The kiss exploded inside her, filling her with equal parts sweetness and crazy desire. She opened her mouth as he did, her tongue sliding sensuously against his. He tasted like he smelled, like rain and thunderstorms and wildness. Intoxicating.

Why? Why do I have to be so attracted to him?

His hands slid over her back as he slanted his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss.

Pain exploded in her head.

With a gasp, she pulled back.

“What’s the matter?” he asked sharply.

“My head. Headache. I need to lie down.” Before she passed out again. This was the exact pain she’d suffered in the parking garage. Not now. Not now.

Tighe cupped her face with his hands. The light pressure of his palms seemed to ease the pain.

“That helps,” she whispered.

“Lincoln Memorial,” Tighe called. “I’ll meet you over there.”

She tried to open her eyes, to look at him in confusion. Had she blanked out after all? She seemed to have missed the other half of that conversation.

Through the haze of pain, she saw a pair of jeans and a shirt come sailing out the bedroom door.

“Change before you bring the cops down on yourself,” a disembodied voice called. “And do something about the blood.”

Tighe made a sound in his throat, that oddly animal-sounding growl, and released her. The pain in her head soared. She collapsed back against the door, pressing her hands to her cheeks, but her own hands didn’t help.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d stood there, fighting back the waves of pain, when she felt Tighe’s hand close around her wrist.

“Come on, brown eyes. We’re going for a drive.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

But he opened the door and ushered her into the night, and she didn’t have the strength to argue. She let him steer her into the passenger seat of a car, in no shape to fight him. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, her only concern to stay conscious and keep her head on her shoulders until the awful thing passed.

Finally, finally, the pain began to recede. The headache disappeared, leaving her feeling shaky and cold. What was happening to her? The headache had felt like the kind she got before she saw the murders, but just like in the car, she’d seen nothing this time. Which didn’t please her in the least. If she had to suffer the pain, the least she could do was get a clue that might help her catch the killer.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes to find Tighe pulling to an illegal stop near the Lincoln Memorial. He released her hand. She hadn’t even remembered he was holding it.