Heat of the Night

Chapter 15

"How are you doing, champ?" Connor asked, as he settled onto Stacey's couch next to Justin and handed him an oversized mug of hot chocolate.

"I'm freezing." Dark shadows rimmed the boy's dilated eyes and his skin bore unhealthy pallor-signs of shock. A lock of brown hair fell over his brow, making him appear lost and far younger than his fourteen years.

"I'll get you another blanket."

The front door was open, making the chill worse, but McDougal's men were still clearing out and Justin didn't want to go to his room. He preferred the heavy foot traffic and the drone of the ignored television, because it made him feel safe to be surrounded by so many people.

"Thanks, Connor."

The gratitude on Justin's face hit Connor hard. The Elders would pay for what happened tonight. Dearly.

"You're welcome."

Pushing to his feet, Connor moved toward the hallway and Justin's room. The boy had been given a dose of propranolol in the chopper and he would continue to take the medication four times a day for the next ten days. The "pill to forget" was still experimental, but clinical trials offered hopeful results and Connor had his fingers crossed the drug would work its magic on Justin.

The boy would still remember the events, but the emotions behind the memories would not be there. His recollections would be detached from his feelings, making him an objective observer more so than an emotionally scarred victim. Healers in the Twilight would help with the rest.

Connor was just opening the bedroom door when Aidan stepped out of Stacey's bedroom. "How's she doing?" he asked, his gut tightening.

"She's stable, although still unconscious." Aidan stepped closer. "There's something in her brain, Bruce. It's small-about the size of a grain of rice-but it's foreign. There's no telling how her body will react to it over time."

Reaching a hand out, Connor braced his weight against the wall and sucked in a deep breath. "Fuck… man." He gazed at his friend helplessly. "Do we know what it is?"

"She's talking in her sleep-" Aidan winced, "-in the language of the Ancients."

"What?" Running a hand through his hair, Connor groaned. "How do we get it out of her head?"

"Medically, we can't. Not here in this plane, not without killing her. Humans don't have the technology."

The door to the bedroom opened and a man peaked out. "She's conscious."

Connor straightened. "Can I tell her son? Can he see her?"

"She's lucid," the man said.

"Tell her I'll be there in a minute, okay?" Connor looked Aidan. "I have to get Justin."

Aidan nodded and Connor hurried back to the living room.

"Hey," he said, nearing the sofa. "Your mom's awake."

"Can I see her?" Justin sat up from his reclined position and set his half-empty mug on the coffee table.

"Yeah, come on." Connor helped dig him out from under the three or four blankets he had on and walked with him back to Stacey's room.

They entered the darkened space as quietly as possible. Beside the bed, various monitors beeped and flashed with lights. Stacey lay bundled in the middle, a tiny, fragile form that made Connor's chest tighten.

"Hi, baby," she whispered to Justin, holding out her arms to him. Justin immediately climbed up beside her and began sobbing. Stacey joined him, wrapping her arms around her son and pressing her teary cheek to the top of his head.

The sight made Connor's eyes sting. He looked away and found Aidan by the door. His friend gestured him over and Connor went, glad to be distracted from the emotion of the scene behind him. Emotion that was killing him inside, twisting through his gut like a knife.

"I spoke with her briefly," Aidan whispered. "She says Rachel intends to return for that thing in her head. Whatever it is, they think it's safer with us than them."

Connor's entire body tensed. "Or else they think we'd destroy it if it weren't inside something we couldn't bear to lose. Tell me McDougal's men found Rachel."

"They didn't." Aidan's countenance was grave. "They've been searching the area since you left. There's no trace of her. Despite her injuries, she managed to escape."

"Fuck!"

"Watch the language," Stacey admonished.

He turned to look at her. She stared at him with glistening eyes and puckered her lips in a kissing gesture. A low sound of longing rumbled in his throat.

"I don't know what to do," he said, facing Aidan again. "I don't know where I should go, or what I should do, or how I should feel."

"You do what I did," Aidan said. "You forget the 'shoulds' and you jump."

Connor snorted. "Nothing is ever that easy when it comes to women."

"I didn't say it was easy. But if you want her, make it work. It's worth it to be happy."

Happiness. Connor wanted it. He wanted it with Stacey. "Right." And just that quickly, he decided. "So, before McDougal's men totally clear out, let's get a security system out of them. They've got to have top-of-the-line shit. I want this house locked up so tight Ft. Knox will be jealous. I'll be gone a lot. I need to know they're protected."

"Great idea." Aidan smiled, opened the door, and gestured him out first. "Let's get my money's worth."

Stacey woke with a violent, skull-crushing headache.

Both palms pressed flat to her temples, she rolled and writhed, groaning. She bumped into Justin and he mumbled a protest. Whispering an apology, she rolled the other way and fell off the side of her bed. She hit the floor on her knees and cried out, biting her lower lip to stem any more noises. A quick glance at the clock showed it was nearly three in the morning. The way her head felt, she doubted she'd live to see the sunrise.

She crawled a few feet, then rose by necessity. It was too jarring to move on her hands and knees. How she made it down the hall, she'd never know, but it was colder in the open space of the living room and the chill eased the burning of her skin.

"Stacey?"

Connor's deep brogue curled around her spine and coursed down like warm honey. Relief flooded her and nearly brought her to the floor again.

"Where are you?" she gasped, afraid to open her eyes. The moonlight slanting upward to the ceiling from the shutters was too much light even from behind hastily closed lids. The full brunt would only increase the feeling of having an ice pick piercing straight through to her brain.

"Here," he rumbled, "I'm right here."

Warm arms wrapped around her, cradling her to a hard, nude chest lightly dusted with hair.

"I'm so glad you stayed."

"I'm not leaving you, sweetheart. Even when I'm not here, I won't really be gone."

"My head hurts," she whimpered, tears coursing down her cheeks.

"The doctor left some medicine for you. Let me-"

"No!" She clung to his waistband, recognizing by touch that he wore sweats. The thought of him here, sleeping on her couch, protecting her, made her feel loved and safe in a way nothing else in her life ever had. "Don't leave me."

"Sweetheart." His lips pressed to her forehead and some of the pain eased. "It kills me to see you crying."

"Do that again," she begged. "Kiss me again."

His mouth touched her skin, this time against her closed eyes and lashes, kissing away the tears. The throbbing in her head lessened.

Tilting her neck back, Stacey captured his lips with her own. The instant she tasted him, her blood heated and began to flow, her heart rate picked up. Miraculously, the debilitating pressure eased.

"Stace," he mumbled into her mouth as she grew more fervent. "What are you doing?"

"I want you."

She felt the surprise move through him, then the desire he couldn't control.

"You're nuts," he said, but his hands were on her hips, his fingers sliding beneath her cotton shirt to touch the skin of her back. His touch was soothing, calming.

The more he touched her, the less her head hurt.

"Make love to me," she pleaded.

"Justin…?"

"The laundry room has a door."

"You shouldn't-"

"Now, Connor!"

"Aw, fuck." He picked her up and carried her to the back of the house. Stepping into the laundry room, he kicked aside the basket that held the door open and pushed the portal closed. He sat her down atop the old desk she used as a folding table and stared at her with a bemused smile and hot gaze. "Now what?"

In the back of her mind a sharp squealing noise resembled tires burning rubber. "Don't stop touching me."

Setting his hands on either side of her hips, Connor caged her to the desk and nuzzled his lips against her neck. "Tell me what you need, sweetheart."

She reached for him, embraced him. Beneath her palms she felt hot, silken skin stretched over rippling, flexing muscle and she melted inside. She moaned when his teeth nipped her earlobe. "I need you."

"You've got me." He pressed her back onto the desk and his hand slipped between her legs. Even through the thick camouflage, his fingertips had no trouble giving her what she wanted. "I'm not going anywhere. We'll make this work."

"Yes… oh that feels good…"

"Hmmm," he agreed, deftly freeing the button at her waistband before pulling the zipper down. The whole time his lips, tongue, and teeth were doing something wonderful to the tender skin of her throat and his other hand cushioned the back of her head so that his big, hard body was literally wrapped around hers. The noises in her head fell silent. Or else they were drowned out by the rushing of blood in her ears.

"Connor." Her nostrils filled with his scent. There was no other scent in the world like his-spicy and exotic. Foreign. She loved it. Her very own man of her dreams.

He was right; time didn't matter. What mattered was the way she felt when they were together. He had been a rock of stability when she needed him and she knew he always would be. That was just his way.

She gasped as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her panties.

"How does your head feel?" His voice was dark as sin, his accent thick and dripping with lust.

"I-I…"

"Does your head still hurt?" Connor kissed her with fervent passion, his tongue gliding along hers expertly, taking her mind off everything but him. A rough, edgy growl rumbled in his chest as she grew wet against his fingertips.

"Oh god." Stacey moaned, her eyes clenching shut as he slid a finger inside her. "Fuck me, please! Hurry."

He hushed her frantic cries with his mouth and gently cradled her descent as he laid her flat atop the desk. He tugged her pants down to her knees, lifted her joined legs into air, and set them against his shoulder. When she felt the warm, silky smooth head of his cock, Stacey writhed with hunger, needing him inside her.

"Shh… Here you go, sweetheart," he purred.

Her hands wrapped around the curved edges of the desktop as his thick cock pushed into her. She cried out, arching in pleasure. She was tight in this position, forcing him to work his way into her with short, fierce digs.

Mewling with pleasure, she struggled to take all that he had. "You're too big like this," she gasped.

"You'll take me." He rolled his hips and slid deeper. Advancing. Retreating. Claiming her body inch by tortuously good inch.

Her nails dug crescents into the wood as he stroked deeper, massaging the broad head of his cock across that greedy spot inside her that could never get enough of him.

"Stacey," he breathed roughly, pumping his hips. "Your pussy is so damn tight like this. Like a hot, wet fist. So fucking good. I think I might come before I get all the way inside you."

"Don't you dare!" She cupped her aching breasts and squeezed. "You started this. You better finish."

"Oh, I'll finish." His gorgeous face was flushed, his eyes dark, his forehead misted with sweat. "Fuck… yeah… I'm going to finish. Deep inside you."

Dear god, would she survive it?

He was working her into a frenzy, thrusting harder and faster. The waistband of his sweats, lowered just to his hips, rubbed against her thighs. The sight was intensely erotic, as was her position, bound and positioned for his pleasure. His hips swiveled and thrust, in and out. Her cunt rippled along his cock, on the verge of orgasm.

Stacey's back arched, her entire body tense and expectant. This was what she needed, what she wanted. To be connected to him, wanted by him. "Yes…"

Connor stroked deeper, his heavy testicles slapping rhythmically against the curve of her ass, making her pussy clench tight around him. She watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, taking in his passion-flushed features and the lock of golden hair that fell over his brow. His biceps and pectorals were defined by the effortless hold he had on her. His abdomen flexed as he fucked her, the golden skin glistening with sweat.

"You're mine," he gritted out. "I'm keeping you."

His possessiveness thrilled her, pushing her that last little bit she needed to climax. Stacey bit her lip to keep from crying out as the orgasm tightened her entire body.

Connor grunted and fucked through her spasms, increasing his pace until she thought she would scream with the pleasure. It was only the nearby door and their need for privacy that forced her to silence.

She felt him swell, grow impossibly harder, and then he groaned, "Stacey…"

His hips jack hammered against hers, rocking the old desk, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs. His cock jerked, then spurted, filling her in a thick rush of heat. He continued to take her, stroking through her clenching pussy, emptying his lust and love at the deepest point of her.

"Fuck," he gasped when it was over, resting his cheek against her calf. "You'll kill me."

"My head doesn't hurt anymore," she said in breathless wonder.

"I can't even feel my head," Connor replied. "I think you blew it off."

She laughed with pure feminine triumph.

Stepping back, Connor withdrew from her body. He dried his cock with a nearby towel and tugged up his sweats, then he took care of cleaning and dressing her.

"Come here, baby." Connor's voice was filled with tenderness as he collected her in his arms.

Stacey held on tight. "I think I'm falling love with you." she admitted shyly. "I hope that doesn't freak you out. I have a tendency to jump into things and with you-"

His lips pressed against hers, halting the spill of words. "Go ahead and jump," he urged hoarsely. "I'll jump with you."