Succubus Lost (Files from the Otherworlder Enforcement Agency, #2) (18 page)

Cade slipped on his dark glasses and jumped down.

The sun prickled his skin, but he ignored the sensation; sunlight no longer had the power to harm him—he’d grown beyond that. Thick red dust permeated the air, and he grimaced as he ducked under the still-turning blades and ran for the edge of the roof, Finn at his back.

Despite the sun, the day was bitterly cold, but Cade hardly noticed as he smoothed his suit and breathed in the icy air. The cool breeze hinted at snow and something else—a lingering scent almost forgotten, but still familiar.

He came to an abrupt standstill.

The hum of excitement grew to a buzz that spread through his being, filling him with a wild sense of anticipation. His whole mind focused on the elusive scent that teased his nostrils, sweet, spicy with a hint of lemons.

A wave of longing swept over him, so strong he almost stumbled. Bracing himself against the low stone wall in front of him, he tried to clear the fog from his brain, as excitement warred with terror.

Eleni.

Could she really be here?

He fought for control, but a fierce exhilaration was building inside him.

“What is it?” Finn asked, but the words scarcely registered.

After all the years of searching, was he finally going to find his Eleni again?

Would she know him?

He fought down the need to leap over the edge of the building, to find her, confront her. But he couldn’t do that.

She had to come to him of her own free will, or this time he would lose her forever.

“Cade?” Finn’s low voice came from behind him, and a hand pressed down on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” Cade shook it off and headed down the open staircase that ran alongside the building.

The scent was stronger here, but mixed with the stench of too many people crowded together. Cade searched the sea of faces. A few wore western clothes, but the majority dressed in dark robes with traditional scarves wrapped around their heads.

Panic clawed at his insides. He couldn’t find her.

A man stepped up toward him, blocking his view, and he gritted his teeth in frustration. “Mr. Wolfe, can you tell me what you think about the current situation in Afghanistan?”

“Mr. Wolfe…”

Cade stood, letting the questions flow around him, while the adrenalin surged through his system.

“Mr. Wolfe, would you like to comment on the allegations that Stormlord Security uses illegal means to gain government contracts?”

A woman’s voice. Clipped and assured. The words hardly registered. For a brief moment, his brain ceased to function. He looked down. A long way down. The woman in front of him was small, but then his Eleni had been tiny—it had always made him feel protective. She’d laugh at him and tell him she didn’t need protecting.

A scarf wrapped around her head, leaving only a narrow band of her face showing between the folds. Dark brown eyes, flecked with gold, stared up into his. They were all he could see. But they were enough. Eyes he’d dreamed about for over two thousand years. He couldn’t believe it; after all the years of searching, she finally stood before him.

“Eleni?”

Her dark brows drew together in a frown. “The allegations of corruption, Mr. Wolfe—could you comment?”

The scarf muffled her voice, and he wanted to reach out and drag the dusty cloth from her, reveal her to him.

“Cade, we have incoming.” Finn’s voice shouted in his ear, the urgency of the tone finally getting through to him.

He tore his gaze away from the woman.

“What?”

“Goddamn it, Cade. This place is going to explode.” He forced himself to look upward and shock punched him hard in the gut. Like a comet, a trail of fire streaked across the sky. A rocket heading straight for the compound.

Straight for Eleni.

…

The guy was definitely acting weird.

Phoebe had studied him as he came down the steps.

Unlike his companion who was dressed in full combat gear, Caden Wolfe wore an elegant silver-gray business suit, white shirt—no doubt silk—and a dark red tie which matched his immaculately cut dark red hair.

Prior to the press conference, she’d found out everything she could about him, but even so, nothing had prepared her for Caden Wolfe in the flesh. He was stunning. Which didn’t mean he wasn’t also corrupt.

Patrick, her boss—and one of the best editors in the business—had always told her that the most important quality for a successful investigative journalist was gut instinct. And her gut was screaming that there was something very off with regards to Stormlord Securities.

But she also needed to be fair. Phoebe was the first to admit that she loathed and despised the big multinational corporations. Hated the way they believed themselves above the law, and the way they used and discarded the

“little” people as though they didn’t matter.

People like her father.

Because of that, she always went the extra length to make sure her facts were right, always did her research meticulously. She’d looked at Stormlord Securities from every angle, examined the statistics, and the numbers didn’t add up. No company managed to get that many government contracts without making payouts somewhere along the line.

And Phoebe Little, ace reporter, was going to find out where. Expose his sleazy company, and his shady dealings.

This story was going to right some wrongs
and
put her name into the top ranks of investigative journalism.

But she wished he’d stop staring at her—it was making her feel distinctly odd, hot and fluttery. He wore dark glasses, but still she sensed his eyes fixed on her as though he were starving. She tightened the scarf around herself and glanced down. She was covered from head to foot—what was there to gawk at?

His bodyguard spoke to him, and at last he broke eye-contact with her. As he stared upward, horror flashed across his lean handsome face. Phoebe followed his gaze to the sky, and her mind locked in terror. A rocket was heading straight for them. No way could it miss.

A moment later, something slammed into her, and the world went black.

Phoebe was falling through darkness, hot air rushing past her as she twisted and turned.

Had the rocket hit?

She appeared to be heading downward, which was a little worrying, but her mind refused to focus, and all she could do was hold tight as she spun out of control.

All awareness of time faded. She could have been falling for minutes, hours, or even lifetimes, but finally, the descent slowed until she was drifting through the warm air. Still downward, but at least she could think again.

Strong arms bound her tight, pressing her face against a rock solid chest. Wriggling was impossible, and after a moment, she gave up and relaxed. She became aware of other things, the soft
whoosh
of air as though brushed by huge wings, the clean, spicy aroma of the man who held her locked in his embrace.

They landed with a soft
thud
. This time when she struggled, he loosened his hold, but now, when she could move, she found she didn’t want to. She wasn’t scared exactly, although something told her that perhaps she should be, but she felt so safe wrapped in his arms. How long had it been since a man held her like this? Not in this lifetime, she was sure. But something felt so familiar, so right.

Maybe the rocket had knocked her out, and she was dreaming.

Either that or she was dead.

No, definitely dreaming.

She pulled free, took a step back, and blinked. Level with her eyes was a broad, naked chest, the skin pale over the smooth swell of muscles. Phoebe bit her lip and took another step back until she could look up and straight into the wickedly handsome face of Caden Wolfe. She closed her eyes tight, counted to ten, and peeked through her lashes. What she saw in his face made heat stir to life low down in her belly.

Carnal hunger.

Didn’t you dream about the last thing that you saw before you fell asleep? Obviously, the last thing she had seen was Caden Wolfe, so it made sense that she’d brought him into her dream. It didn’t mean he was real. None of this was real. At that moment, she became aware of something else, something that definitely proved her point. He had wings.

Blood red wings, each a yard in length. While she watched, they swept the air once then folded against his back, so only the tips showed above his broad shoulders.

Caden Wolfe—an angel.

Though thinking about it, what sort of angel had wings the color of blood? And she’d headed downward—

not up—so she was pretty sure she wasn’t in Heaven. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She swallowed and tried again. “Am I dead?”

“No, you’re alive.”

That was reassuring. She peered around her; this place certainly didn’t look like Heaven, but then it didn’t look like Afghanistan, either. In fact, it was like nowhere she’d ever been. The light was dim as though the sun had just set beyond those glittering black mountains, the sky violet shading to midnight blue. They stood on a black sandy beach, by a running stream, surrounded by black boulders.

“Where are we?”

“We’re in the Abyss.”

She swallowed again. “Sounds nice. Isn’t that another name for Hell?”

He shrugged but didn’t seem inclined to answer the question. Maybe he thought she would panic. But why would she panic when it was all a dream?

“Mr. Wolfe—”

“Call me Cade.”

“Cade—”

He reached out a hand and stroked her cheek, locking the words in her throat. Her skin tingled under his touch, sending quivers running down her spine. She looked up into his face to find him gazing at her with such wonder in his dark blue eyes, as though he couldn’t quite believe she was here. She was finding it hard to believe herself.

In real life, she’d never wanted a man to look at her like that. But this wasn’t real life. She stifled her initial urge to run and stood immobile beneath his touch, while he traced the lines of her face, trailed the pad of one thumb over her sensitive lower lip. A tight knot clenched in her belly, and the flickering heat burst into flames.

Phoebe said nothing as he drew the scarf back from her face and dropped it to the ground behind her. Her shoulder-length hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he loosened the band and ran his fingers through the strands, then cupped his hands around her skull, tipping her head so she looked up into his eyes.

“Eleni,” he murmured.

She frowned at the strange name, but before she could even think to ask, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. All rational thoughts fled from her mind. His lips were soft at first, almost reverent as he learned the shape of hers, then they hardened. His hands held her steady while he slanted his mouth over hers and parted her lips.

As his tongue pushed inside her, the knot in her belly unraveled. A warm wet heat washed through her, saturating the core of her body, and she swayed toward him.

He wasn’t touching her anywhere except for his hands in her hair, his lips on hers, filling her mouth with the slow, languid thrust of his tongue. She made a low moan of need deep in her throat, and he went still against her. Drawing back, he stared down into her eyes, his expression almost fearful.

“Do you want me?” he asked.

She looked at him then. He still wore the pants he’d been wearing in the compound, but his jacket and shirt were gone. Her eyes flickered past the tips of his wings and then quickly back to his naked chest. He was muscular but sleek and lean, his ridged belly almost concave where it disappeared into his waistband. Beneath that, she could see the bulge of his erection pressing against the material of his pants, and her breath caught in her throat.

She tried to remember who he was—Caden Wolfe, CEO of the company she was investigating. The man she was convinced was bribing his way to government contracts. But he was also the man she’d been fantasizing about for weeks now, ever since she’d seen his photograph.

And did it matter what he was in real life? Here and now, he was just some manifestation of her fantasies. She’d dreamed him up because he was the most gorgeous guy she had ever encountered and she was a sad, frustrated woman who hadn’t had sex in five years.

And if she was really hovering on the brink of death, didn’t she deserve a little fun first? Even if it wasn’t real.

Or rather—especially if it wasn’t real.

He was watching her, his expression tense, as he waited for her answer. Did she want him? “Oh yeah.” She realized she’d spoken out loud, as relief blossomed on his face.

Phoebe didn’t object as his hands gripped the hem of her tunic and dragged it over her head. His gaze ran over the swell of her breasts in the white cotton bra and her nipples tightened to press against the softness of the material. Hunger and need warred on his face as he reached behind her and unclasped the bra, peeled the material away. His eyes feasted on her until her breasts ached to be touched, and her sex throbbed with need.

Finally, when she thought she would scream, his large hand cupped the fullness of one breast. His thumb rubbed the nipple and it stiffened, sending jolts of pleasure shooting through her, fires dancing along her nerve endings. Lowering his head, he licked the swollen nub, drew it into his hot mouth, and suckled her while his hands slid down over the sharp indentation of her waist. They slipped beneath the waistband of her loose pants to stroke the curve of her bottom. He pushed them down together with her panties, and she stepped out of them, kicking off her sandals to stand before him naked.

He went down on his knees, his wings spreading to frame him. For a minute, his forehead rested against her stomach, as though in prayer. She laced her fingers into his hair, dark with glints of ruby. Then he raised his head.

“I have waited so long.”

“You have?”

“But now we are together again.”

“Again?” She was sure they’d never been together before. But her mind couldn’t hold on to the thoughts because he’d leant toward her and was scattering moist kisses across her naked breasts, down over her belly. Red hot desire exploded inside her. She would have fallen, but his hands gripped her hips and held her steady as he rose to his feet, still holding her. Then he lowered her to the silky black sand.