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  She braced herself on his shoulders as he pumped himself into her. He was anything but gentle. Fortunately, she was wet and aroused from their previous amorous play. He cupped her buttocks and arched her into his thrusts so that his cock tunneled deeper. When he hit her G-spot, she shivered and moaned. It was so hard to recall why she’d been fighting this with him buried so deeply inside of her. The pleasure was decadent and overpowering. Her head fell back, and her eyes fluttered closed.

  “Look at me.”

  Panting, she locked gazes with him. His midnight-blue eyes flashed silver before darkening to almost black. She bit her lip. He was watching her like he owned her, like he would never let her go. It was an overwhelming sensation and one she didn’t want to dwell on. Instead, she allowed herself to drown in carnal bliss. Squeezing him with her thighs, she used her legs to draw him closer.

  She felt her orgasm nearing and apparently, so did Sebastian. He moved faster, harder, pushing her over the precipice until she was crying out. She prepared herself for the hit of his psychic power as he swelled and pulsed inside her. He growled and buried his face in her neck.

  He squeezed her and then lowered her to the floor. Keva frowned. He hadn’t shared his psychic energy with her. “Why—”

  He stroked her cheek. “I’m not ready to let you go yet. Sebastian won’t let us have you. So I have to act for us. We need you.” He shoved at his briefs and they slid to his ankles. He stepped out of them. Bending at the knees, he scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom.

  ****

  Sebastian’s chest was glued by sweat to Keva’s back. Her caramel skin gleamed in the soft lighting cast by her bedside lamp. His fingers were linked with hers where he held them above her head. A pillow rested beneath her abdomen and he had her thighs splayed wide. His cock was buried deep inside her wet pussy, pulsing as it filled her with his come. “Shit.”

  It would be better if he could say that he couldn’t recall what he’d done to her, how forceful and rough he’d been. But not only could he remember it, he knew he’d reveled in making her surrender to him. Her cries would always ring in his ears. Bastard that he was, he’d made her beg for his cock, beg to be at the mercy of his animalistic lust.

  “Shit.” Pulling out of her snug body, he rolled onto his back. He longed to reach out and haul her into his arms, but he couldn’t. Selfish bastards like him didn’t deserve good women like her. “I’m so sorry—”

  “Go to hell.”

  Sebastian winced at the venom in her tone. “Please, Keva…”

  She slid out of bed and went into the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind her. Running water sounded seconds later. He banged his head on the soft pillow. Damn it, he’d really fucked this up. It was probably for the best that she left before he’d finished his sentence. What would he have said to her anyway? He got up and gathered his clothing. His briefs were in the den. He went to retrieve them and dressed quickly.

  He was pressing his feet into his shoes when Keva came down the hall. One look at her face told him that the shower had not cooled her temper in the least. Her dark eyes burned bright with fury. She wore a pale pink robe that she’d cinched cruelly tight at her waist. Her skin was damp. She’d brushed her long hair back and bound it in a ponytail. His eyes dropped to her unfettered breasts, soft and full beneath silk. Shoving his violin and bow at him, Keva growled, “Take your shit and get out.” He gripped the instrument. When he opened his mouth to apologize, she held up a hand. “Save it. I know you’re sorry. I don’t need to hear your self-pitying whine again. I’ve got it memorized from the last two times.”

  His lips thinned. So he’d finally managed to kill any sympathy she had for him. Maybe next time she’d fight harder and knee him the way she needed to. It was probably the only thing that would keep him off her. At least, he liked to think that it would. But he couldn’t be certain. He was never sure of himself when he was in such an unbridled state. He nodded his head, staring at her, hating to see the pain beneath the anger and bravado. Committing her beautiful image to memory, he left her.

  Getting inside IOP had been easy. He’d driven in behind the serving staff for tonight’s event. On the way out, he could tell that someone had been kind enough to bring food and drinks out to the guards. They barely spared him a glance before going back to their shrimp and champagne.

  Sebastian drove back to his hotel. There was nothing holding him here anymore. The last house had sold. The paperwork was done, and he’d managed to avoid the moving party Becky had wanted to throw for him. In the morning he’d book a flight and get as far away from Keva as possible.

  ****

  Keva locked up behind Sebastian. She was so angry she could scream. She didn’t know who she was more mad at—him or herself. She’d let him use her. Again. She would have screamed if she had to listen to him tell her once more that she was good enough to fuck, but only when he was overinundated with psychic energy that he wasn’t himself anymore. The rejection hurt more than she wanted to admit.

  Too late she realized why Bastian’s possessive words had made her uncomfortable. She’d been hopeful that they’d meant something, but afraid all along that he’d go back on them. And the second his equilibrium had returned, he’d done just that. The bastard hadn’t even pulled out of her before remorse hit. It was like a switch was flipped. Prior to releasing his energy into her, he’d been insatiable, fucking her over and over.

  Returning to her bedroom, she paused momentarily to survey the prospective cleanup. Then she picked her dress and panties off the floor and tossed them in the linen basket. Though bone tired, she changed her bedding. The sheets smelled of sweat, sex, and Sebastian.

  She slid between the cool, clean sheets and fell into an exhausted sleep.

  In the morning, her first thoughts were of Sebastian. Keva groaned as she buried her face in her pillow. She kept recalling the hurt expression on his face when she’d thrown him out of her apartment. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered to herself. The man took for granted that she would be sexually available to him whenever he wanted and here she was sympathizing with him when she finally stood up for herself.

  Muscles aching from the workout he’d given her last night, she rolled out of bed and got ready for work. She wasn’t in the mood for breakfast but forced herself to eat buttered toast and drink orange juice. A knock at the door startled her as she was putting her dishes in the dishwasher. No one ever visited in the morning. She wondered what could be so urgent that they couldn’t wait to see her at her desk in a few minutes.

  Opening the door to her officemate Dean, she frowned. “What…?”

  He swept inside and peered around. His movements were brisk and nervous. “Close the door. Are we alone?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Keva, that psychic from a few months ago, the one whose name you wouldn’t reveal, what kind of talent was he?”

  Keva emitted an exasperated sigh. “You, too? Like I told Dr. Garcia and the others, I don’t know.” She crossed her arms over her chest at his odd behavior. Beyond a few words here and there, they’d never discussed cases with each other. Dean was often off in his own world and she’d never liked his attitude toward their clients. “What is this about?”

  He grabbed her shoulders, his brown eyes intense. “Keva, it’s important that you tell me the truth. Was he special in any way?”

  “What is wrong with you?” she asked, growing alarmed.

  “I overheard Dr. Garcia—”

  “Overheard?” Skeptical, she arched an eyebrow.

  “That doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “I heard her planning another ambush review—this time with a telepath in the room to gauge the truthfulness of your answers.”

  Keva’s eyes widened. She’d never pass that type of interrogation. It wouldn’t matter even if she were capable of training herself to think of only the answers she wanted to give. Telepaths always knew when a person was subverting the truth.

  “I can see from yo
ur reaction that Dr. Garcia’s suspicions are correct. We’ve got to get you out of here.”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. What’s the worst that will happen? I’ll reveal his name and talents. I’ll probably receive a formal reprimand—”

  Dean swore. “God, you’re naive. You’ll be fired. Or worse, detained indefinitely for withholding information, and they’ll bring him in for testing and experimentation. IOP has been trying to get a bigger government contract for decades. Their goal is to develop superspies—”

  Keva scoffed. “I never took you to be a believer in conspiracy theories.”

  “It’s not a fucking theory. It’s fact. I’m part of a small faction inside the IOP. We’ve been keeping a watch on their activities. After what Garcia has put you through, how can you be doubtful? Why do you think they study our reports so closely? Any high-level talent is placed in the program whether they want to be or not.”

  She bit her lip. Dr. Garcia’s rabid persistence was troubling. Keva recalled Dr. Larsen’s comments about what types of reports were flagged. All high-level talents caused a flag. And then there was Sebastian. He’d had a bad vibe about IOP. Unstable though he was, she trusted his instincts. After all, he’d predicted that she’d fall for him. The rumors regarding IOP’s ulterior motives for helping psychics had circulated for years, but she’d thought it to be the brainchild of paranoid anarchists. There was so little evidence, but in her heart, she knew it to be true. “Do you have any proof of what you’re saying?”

  He shrugged off his backpack and took out a tablet. He ran his fingers over the touchscreen before turning it to face her. “This is Eric Barnett. He’s a level-A psychic. His talent is telekinesis.” A handsome, young man with reddish hair was strapped to a chair in an examination room that appeared similar to the ones they utilized when providing treatment to patients. But the ropes around his chest and arms gave lie to the seeming normalcy of the scene. Keva frowned at the screen. Drs. Larsen and Garcia came into the room to begin questioning him. Eric made it clear from his comments that he wanted to leave. Dr. Garcia moved toward him, her back to the camera. Keva couldn’t identify what the doctor held in her hand as she closed in on Eric. When she touched Eric, his body jerked. “What is she doing?” she asked, but it soon became clear as Dr. Garcia shifted and the Taser in her hand became visible. Keva couldn’t watch anymore as Dr. Garcia continued to torture the young man and Dr. Larsen stood by and did nothing. He didn’t look happy, but his lack of action sickened Keva.

  “We have to stop them. We can’t let them keep doing this.”

  “We will and soon. We’re very close, but we need to know how high up this goes. I was planning to ask for your help. Unfortunately, you being here will only cause another talent to be captured.”

  “So what do I do?”

  Dean expelled a deep sigh and ran a hand over his spiky black hair. “Pack a bag. We’re going to get you out of here. You’ll call in once you’re safe and say there was a family emergency. There’s an apartment we keep in Vegas. You can stay there until you can get a flight out of Nevada. You can resign later, and I’ll get the rest of your stuff to you. Hurry!”

  Keva didn’t waste any more time. She got luggage out of her closet and filled it with clothing. It wouldn’t take long before the two of them were missed at work. She thought briefly of trying to contact Sebastian, but quickly realized that she had no way of doing so. Hopefully, he wouldn’t come back here looking for her. Without her, they wouldn’t even know his name. His safety depended on her getting out without getting caught.

  Chapter Seven

  Sebastian parked his truck outside of the home of Martin and Melanie Gibbs. Their driveway was packed, so he was on the curb behind Mike’s sporty coupe. It was the Gibbs’ fiftieth wedding anniversary. Pink, white, and silver balloons were attached to the mailbox. He stared at cars as he debated simply driving to the airport without saying good-bye.

  Only he’d promised Mike. Before he disappeared for he knew not how long, he owed it to Mike and Mike’s parents. They worried about him and they needed the reassurance that he was doing well. Breaking only to eat and sleep, he’d driven directly from Nevada to Mike’s place. Mike took one look at him, told him that he looked like shit, and sent him to bed. This morning over coffee, Mike had dropped news of the anniversary party on him.

  It had been six months since he’d seen the Gibbses, years since he’d walked into their home. Usually they met at restaurants or at Mike’s home.

  Sebastian ran a hand over his hair to smooth it even though not a hair was out of place. His curls were tamed by the tight elastic at the base of his skull. Taking a deep breath, he got out of his truck and was immediately assailed with memories of growing up on this street.

  The neighborhood looked much the way it had when he was growing up. There were a few newer homes, but the basic layout was the same. Unwilling to dwell on the past any further, he shut his door and approached the house. He could hear party noises, jazz, and people’s laughter coming from the backyard.

  Martin greeted him with a warm hug. “It’s good to see you, son. Mike said you were coming and I couldn’t believe it.” He patted him on the back. “Follow me to the kitchen. Melanie’s in there getting more snacks. I tried to convince her to hire a caterer, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Too much Food Network, you know. She wanted to test some recipes. I think she was more excited about that than the actual anniversary!”

  Melanie was arranging crackers on a plate when they walked into the kitchen. “Sebastian,” she exclaimed. She swiftly crossed to him and squeezed him. Her head of carefully dyed blond hair only reached the middle of his chest. She leaned back and placed her hands on his cheeks. “Let me look at you.” Not approving of what she saw, she frowned and shook her head after a moment. “You look wrung out. What’s wrong?”

  “There’s nothing wrong.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Is it a girl?”

  Melanie had always been very perceptive. She wasn’t psychic, but she was observant of those that she loved. Sebastian wrapped his hands around her wrists and removed them from his face. He kissed the back of her hand.

  “So it is a girl? What type of girl would be foolish enough to let you slip through her fingers?”

  He was mute. Melanie had always been so kind to him, but surely, even she understood that he was no catch for a woman. “It’s complicated,” he said, hoping the vague answer would put an end to this topic of conversation.

  “Melanie, hon, maybe the boy didn’t come over here to—”

  She shushed her husband without ever taking her eyes off him. “Then you fix it. If this woman is who you want to be with, you work through your problems.”

  “We can’t. I am the problem.”

  Melanie’s blue eyes turned sad. “She doesn’t accept your special abilities?”

  Sebastian couldn’t hold her gaze, and he couldn’t lie to her. Keva did accept him for everything that he was. He’d never sensed any true fear of him in her. She was in awe of his ability. She didn’t view him as a freak of nature. Hell, she could even fall in love with him if given the chance. But he couldn’t ask that of her.

  “Sebastian, look at me. If she can’t love all of you, then you can do better.”

  “It’s not that. She’s perfect, but I won’t make my burden hers too.”

  “Don’t you think that should be her choice?”

  Melanie couldn’t understand. She loved him. He wouldn’t lose her respect by telling her the awful way he had treated Keva. “It’s too late. She’ll never forgive me.” He kissed her cheek. “Where’s Mike?”

  Martin and Melanie exchanged glances. “He’s out back,” Martin said. “I’ll go get him for you.”

  Something was wrong. “That’s okay. I’ll go out.”

  “Don’t! Um…” Melanie glanced around, her expression frantic. “Stay and help me…um…with the hors d’oeuvres.”

  Sebastian arched a brow at their strange behavior.
“What’s going on? What’s out there that you don’t want me to see?” As their eyes grew wide, he moved toward the small window above the sink that would allow him to see the backyard.

  “Melanie,” called a woman’s voice, her tone full of laughter. “The klutz has struck again. I spilled my drink—”

  Sebastian turned from the window as the woman entered the kitchen. Her hair was still dark but shorter than he remembered it. She’d aged well and was as beautiful as he recalled. Her dark blue eyes locked with his and she froze, her hand paused in midair over her maroon blouse, a wet stain extending from her neck to her waist.

  He clutched the counter behind him as tears filled his eyes. He hadn’t seen her since the day she’d walked in on him using telekinesis to clean his room. Leslie Brooks had screamed in terror and raced to his father. Carl Brooks hadn’t been interested in hearing his explanations. They’d suspected him, but they hadn’t wanted to believe it. His father had forcibly thrown him from the house despite the fact that he hadn’t been fighting back. He’d been terrified by the fury on his father’s face. His father had called him a freak and told him to never darken their doorstep again. His mother had brought his clothes to the door and Carl had thrown them onto the lawn. Stunned, he’d sat on the lawn for a minute before trying to get back into the house. They’d locked the doors. He beat on the door and pleaded for them to let him back in until his father had come to the door with a gun and told him that he’d call the police if he didn’t get off their property. For a week, Sebastian had lived on the street, showing up at school for meals, until Mike’s family had taken him in.

  Twelve years. He hadn’t spoken to her in twelve years. His parents had been forced to send financial support, but the money was all he received from them. They hadn’t come to his graduation or ever acknowledged him in any way. The pain, anger, and shame of that rejection burned in him as bright as ever.