Seduced by the Storm (14 page)

His
eyes shot open. When the first object he laid his eyes on, the cat-o’-nine whip
his torturers had left hanging on the far wall to taunt him, flew across the
room and hit the opposite wall hard, he knew that despite the hours upon hours
of torture, his powers were still there. Muted. Compromised. But there.

Faith’s
head jerked upward and she stared at him in disbelief. She came to her feet, an
unspeakable pain in her eyes that he couldn’t get a handle on.

Clearly,
they’d drugged her, or she had some kind of head injury. But when he tried to
focus on moving the heavy chain that bound his left leg he felt an unmistakable
stir in his groin.

He
shifted to look at her.

"Don’t,"
she said.

From
the uncontrollable sensations traveling through his body, he realized he wasn’t
going to have much of a choice. "Faith, I didn’t tell him. I swear."

"Tell
who what?"

"Your
boyfriend. I didn’t tell him about us. He knew." Sean had come in twice
during the night to question him about Faith, had taunted him with his own
lurid tales.

"Sean’s
not my boyfriend. And I know you didn’t say anything."

He
stared up at the steel beams above his head, thinking, planning, looking for
any kind of escape hatch in all of this, and
fuck,
he was still weaker
than he was comfortable with. "I’m sorry I got you into this."

"You
didn’t."

A
growl rumbled in his throat. "I seduced you. I shouldn’t have. Not here.
Not on the platform, where he could find out."

She
drew in a deep breath and he knew she was inhaling
him,
the scent he
gave off whenever he was around her—because he wanted her whenever, wherever.
Even now, in his weakened state.

But
he was here for one thing only—to get his job done. Rescuing Faith would happen
in tandem, but the weather machine couldn’t be left to chance.

"I’m
not here because Sean is jealous."

"Then
why?"

Faith
didn’t answer, instead focused her gaze over his body and her face whitened
visibly.

She
concentrated on the cut on his chest and for a minute there was a hot stab
followed by intense relief. He looked down and saw the wound’s edges close and
disappear and he sucked in a hard breath.

"Jesus.
You’re a fucking agent." He strained against his bonds as it all came
together in his mind—Faith was working with Sean, and she was a hell of a lot
more than an accountant.

He’d
screwed himself, right to the fucking wall. Or the rack, as it were. All they
needed to do was threaten him with electroshock therapy and he’d spiral down
nicely.

He
rattled the chains and felt the rack stretch him out again.

"Please
don’t," she said, and her fingers, with their psychic needle and thread,
slid down his body until they hovered over his already hardened cock. He arched
again, as if that would be sufficient enough to break the bonds, but her voice
cut through his consciousness. "Let me. Follow my lead."

He
moaned and then grit his teeth against the pleasant sensations she sent
streaming into his groin and the pain her healing waves caused everywhere else.

"I’m
going to need you to scream, Wyatt. Scream like I’m killing you."

"You
are, Faith. I’ve been through the gates of hell and survived, but somehow I
think you’re going to be the devil who takes me down."

"Scream,
Wyatt. Just scream."

He
closed his eyes and let the primal sounds from inside his head out, the way
he’d been resisting for the past twelve hours. The way he’d been resisting his
entire goddamned life. Let it all out, held nothing back until he was sure he
had nothing left inside. Until he wasn’t sure he hadn’t screamed away his very
soul.

WYATT’S
SCREAMS tore through the air, tore through Faith’s heart and soul. She wasn’t
hurting him; far from it. But the raw roar that was ripping from his throat
couldn’t have held more agony.

She
knew he felt betrayed by her, but there was more behind the screams, something
dark and scary that went so deep she couldn’t reach it even with her gift. At
least it was convincing.

She’d
warned Sean that she wouldn’t perform for an audience. No one watching. No one
listening.

Except
she knew that guards would be outside the door, and while they wouldn’t hear
low-level chatter, screams would carry.

"That’s
good, Wyatt," she whispered, keeping up the psychic stroking of his
pleasure centers at the same time she was healing his wounds. Her biokinetic
healing waves could cause excruciating agony as the gouges and slashes knitted
together, so giving pleasure at the same time kept the mind off the pain.

Even
better, the conflicting sensations kept him busy and unable to use his
telekinesis. The drugs Sean had given him must have worn off—bad news for her.

"Why?"
he rasped. "Why are you healing me?"

"Because
I can’t hurt you like Sean wants."

And
Sean had definitely wanted. She’d gone to his private quarters after a fitful
night, and a morning visit to the weather lab, where she’d covertly studied
staff schedules, security and Itor’s immediate plans, which were horrifying.
She needed to make her move today, or a lot of lives besides Liberty’s would be
at stake.

Sean
had been up nearly all night as well…torturing Wyatt. When she’d asked him if
Wyatt had talked, he’d been curt.

"The
only words he’s spoken have been curses and taunts. We’ve tried everything.
Physical and mental torture, sensory deprivation…but so far, nothing." A
note of admiration crept into Sean’s voice, and he seemed to realize it, and
drew his upper lip into a sneer.

Fighting
a wave of nausea, Faith sank onto a chair at his mirrored wet bar. "What
about truth drugs?"

"The
drugs we’ve had to use to keep his telekinesis under control interfere with
truth serums."

"Telekinesis?
So you’re sure he’s an agent? ACRO?"

Sean
moved close, his linen shirt untucked from his beige trousers, but the casual
appearance was deceiving. She’d never met anyone as intense. "He could be
a merc. Or a free agent, like you. We can’t be sure." He poured a glass of
wine and gestured to the empty glass next to it. She shook her head, wanting to
keep her mind clear. "We need to find out why he’s here and who sent him.
We also need to know how he—or whoever he’s working for—learned about this
operation."

She
should be grateful for the commotion. Wyatt’s presence had focused all
attention on him and taken it off her. His unintended sacrifice may have made
her own mission much easier. In fact, if she timed her raid on the weather lab
with the next time Sean and his torture team were busy with Wyatt, she might
increase her chances of success.

Except,
dammit, she wanted to help him. Especially if he was playing for the good guys.

"What
do you plan to do?"

For
a moment, Sean swirled the wine in his glass, studying her with hooded,
hawklike eyes. When his gaze dropped to her legs, she felt the instant tingle
of his caress. The tingle moved upward, along her shins, over her knees. Her
pulse raced with nervous energy as his visual caress stroked higher, to the
skin just beneath the hem of her short black skirt.

He
reached out, caught a lock of her hair in his fingers. "I love you. You
know that, don’t you?"

"Of
course."

"Then
you’ll understand when I say that I wish I didn’t need your help."

Shaking
her head, she pulled back to look at him. "I’m not following."

He
tugged gently on her hair. "I need you to get the information out of
Wyatt." He tugged again, this time wrenching her head back so she was
forced to look into his eyes. "Though I hate the thought of you being
anywhere near him. Again."

"It
meant nothing, Sean. And now I suspect that his powers of seduction played more
than a small role."

She
frowned, because she wasn’t sure how much of a role. Did he have to activate
them, or were they a part of him, always surrounding him like a web of lust
that captured anyone who came close? Because she definitely felt an erotic
magnetism when she was near him, but what she’d experienced yesterday in Sean’s
office had been very different.

"You’ll
have to resist this time, Faith," Sean said. "Think of it as a test.
Pass, and Itor will accept you into our fold. And then I’ll take care you. I’ve
always taken care of you, haven’t I, muffin?" He eased his hold on her
hair, and she resisted the urge to rub out the kink he’d put in her neck.

"We’ve
taken care of each other," she said tightly, and took a sip of Sean’s wine
so she wouldn’t have to talk about things that were nothing but lies now, given
how she was about to betray him by stealing his agency’s weapon. Neither did
she doubt he’d betray her for as big a prize.

He
smiled, bent and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "I’m sorry,
muffin."

"Why—"

His
fist smashed into her face. Pain exploded in her head and behind her eyes. She
flew backward from the chair, crashed to the floor.

Sean’s
foot crunched into her ribs, and then the toe of his boot caught her jaw.
Through double vision, she saw blood spray into the air and splatter on his
pants.

Groaning,
she rolled away from him. She swung one leg around, catching him behind the
knee. With an "Oof!" he fell, crashing into the coffee table. Before
she could get to her feet, he was on top of her, his weight pinning her and his
hands locked on her wrists, so all she could do was scream and wriggle
uselessly.

"Shh,
darling," he said, in a soothing voice that made no fucking sense.
"I’m sorry. So sorry."

"Bastard,"
she rasped, spitting blood into his face. "W-what the hell?" Pain
made her woozy, pissed her off even more, and she rocked her head up so her
forehead connected with his in a sharp crack.

"Ow!
Fuck!" He glared down at her, wincing when blood from his split scalp
dripped into his eye. "Bloody calm down!"

"Calm
down? You attacked me, you asshole."

Her
voice sounded mushy from the swelling of her nose and lips, and a little bubbly
from the blood filling her mouth for the second time in two days. She hoped he
could understand what she’d said, because her ears were ringing and she
couldn’t tell if her words had been clear through the swelling and blood.

"We
need you to be convincing," he said, and dipped his head to wipe the blood
onto his arm. "You’re going to be a prisoner with Wyatt. You’ll gain his
confidence by saying that you are an enemy spy, and I caught you. You’ll heal
him…but don’t use that pleasant side-effect thing you do."

"So
you had to beat the shit out of me?"

"Like
I said. Convincing."

She
swore, jerked her arms out of his grip, which he’d loosened. "You could
have at least fucking warned me before you hauled off and decked me."

Grinning,
he rolled off her with the lazy exhaustion of someone who’d just had sex.

"What?"
She lurched to her feet and used every ounce of willpower to not jam the heel
of her shoe through his jugular.

"What’s
so goddamned funny?"

"You,
darling. I actually feel sorry for Wyatt." He reached out, ran a finger up
her calf, and her skin crawled. "He withstood my best interrogators, but
he doesn’t stand a bloody chance against you."

Wyatt
most certainly did have a chance against her, because she’d healed him, but not
for the reason Sean wanted him healed. No, she’d done it to give him a shot at
escape. Sean wanted her to make it look like she was being nice, but he had a
more sinister reason: healing Wyatt after each torture session would keep him
alive indefinitely.

She
didn’t plan to be around for the next one.

Wyatt’s
throat worked on a hard swallow and she wished she had some water for him.
"You work for Itor."

"I’m
a free agent." His injuries healed, his skin smooth and perfect again, she
pulled back her powers, let him relax. At least relax as much as he could with
his limbs being pulled out of their sockets. She found the lever that operated
the contraption and loosened the tension.

Wyatt
exhaled slowly, riding what must have been a wave of relief.
"Thanks."

"I’m
going to release your arms and legs, but I don’t trust you to behave, so I’ll
restrain you myself. You’ll feel pressure, like I’m holding you down."

She
couldn’t risk him coming at her, because as good a fighter as she was, he was
bigger and stronger, and right now his self-preservation instinct had to be in
high gear.