The silent answer was resolute. Determined.
You’re my last chance.
Jenny and Violet were talking in hushed tones, and Anna walked over to stand in front of him. “She’s tapped out, so trying again’s a no-go, even if we thought it was safe. Are you ready to get out of here?”
He knew Oscar was going to speak before his mouth moved. Some inner gathering of purpose, a pre-echo of the words. Ignoring the vague assent Oscar muttered—something bland and agreeable—Patrick fought to control one thing.
His eyes. Narrowed, just a little, all he could manage of a screamed warning.
Anna stared up at him with a vague frown, her head tilting as she studied his face. “Patrick?”
No. Not me.
Not
me.
Oscar forced Patrick’s lips into a smile that was too polite to feel comfortable. “Yes, Anna?”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine,” his voice answered. “Never better.”
“Yeah?” She reached out and smoothed the front of his shirt, then pushed him back against the wall. “No way, Oscar. He’s not your ride.”
Jenny started forward, her protest cut off by the roar in Patrick’s ears as he watched his own hands fly up to curl around Anna’s throat.
Fuck that.
Trapped in his own skin, he could almost feel that power Violet had talked about. Not ping-ponging, but buzzing angrily—everywhere but across his back. The scars were a void, Oscar’s ticket in—and Patrick’s way of kicking him the fuck out.
Rage made it easier. He felt it, fed it until the bits that were
him
expanded. It burned when he brushed the utterly foreign power, but he used that too. His right hand obeyed him first, and he ripped it free of Anna’s neck as he regained control of his own mouth. “Punch me, cupcake.”
She didn’t hesitate. Instead, she drew back and smacked him with a clean right hook across the jaw. The pain fractured Oscar’s concentration, and Patrick surged into more of his body.
Violet swooped forward and wrapped a suddenly iron hand around his left wrist. “Out.
Now.
”
This time it more than burned. It was pure fire, and Patrick couldn’t help his pained grunt. Violet dragged Oscar Ochoa’s spirit out of his body one clawing bit at a time, magic shredding through him with every step.
And then…nothing. Anna grabbed his face, cupping his cheeks between her hands as she studied his eyes, her chest heaving. Violet hovered behind her, pale and shaking.
Jenny broke the silence. “What the hell was that?”
“I’m sorry,” Violet said immediately, almost talking over her. “It’s been years since I’ve seen a spirit that could take possession of a living soul. I don’t know why it happened now—”
“My back.” His voice felt raw, like he’d been screaming for days. “The scars. It felt like—like a hole in my protections or something.”
Anna bit out a vicious curse. “I’m getting you out of here. Come on.”
His knees felt rubbery for the first few steps, but he bit the damn bullet and got his feet under him, because Anna would drag him if she had to. “I’m okay. I promise.”
“And I don’t think you’d tell me if you weren’t.”
“I’d tell you if I were about to damage my manly pride by face-planting in the hallway.”
“Screw your manly pride.” Her voice trembled the slightest bit. “I don’t deal well with ghost mumbo-jumbo, so humor me, all right?”
Jenny drew even with them. “I have to drive Violet home. Are you going to be okay, or do we need to get you to a hospital?”
Nothing that was wrong with him could be fixed by human doctors. “We got it. I just need to sleep it off.”
They bypassed the bored night watchman, who nonetheless looked up from his paperwork and peered around the lobby. He wasn’t alarmed, merely confused, as if their collective presence had tickled at the edge of his consciousness.
Jenny groaned quietly. “Shit. Keep it together, Lackmond.”
Outside, the night was dark and calm, with only the passing traffic on the interstate to break the stillness. Anna hustled Patrick toward the car, one arm around his waist and the other braced on his stomach.
She only let go to open the passenger door. “Get in before I freak out,” she murmured.
He obeyed, because she looked pale and shaken in an entirely un-Anna-like fashion. When she slid behind the wheel, he caught her hand. “Hey, are you with me?”
She hesitated for a moment before pulling free and turning the key in the ignition. “I’m with you. I promise.”
“Okay.” Patrick closed his eyes and swore when his hands trembled on his legs. “Fuck. Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She practically snapped the word, then exhaled shakily. “Can we not talk right now?”
He fell silent because there was nothing else to do. Someone had to drive, and his quivering hands would get them killed.
Something—Oscar’s ghost or Patrick’s vulnerability to it—had scared the fuck out of Anna Lenoir. He wasn’t sure which it was…or which he wanted it to be.
Chapter Nine
She couldn’t stop shaking, that was the stupidest part.
Even when she’d locked the motel room door behind them and watched Patrick as he set their takeout on the rickety table, her hands were practically quaking. She sank to the end of her bed and braced them on her knees.
Possession. The perfect way to cap off the last few days.
A few minutes later, Patrick knelt in front of her. He slid his hands over hers, his fingers warm and steady. “You’re staring at the wall.”
It jarred her to realize he was right, more so when she opened her mouth and told him why. “We’re fucked up, you know that?”
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t disagree. “How so?”
The truth. Did he know, or would it horrify him? “I didn’t realize you were possessed until you called me Anna. You never call me Anna unless you’re upset with me.”
“That’s not—” His teeth snapped together, and he sighed and looked away. “It’s not about being upset with you. It’s just…maybe that’s the only time it’s safe.”
It made perfect sense, and pain lanced through her. It had been so long since they’d taken that first step, made the first choice to keep a measure of distance between them no matter what it took, and now it seemed silly. Self-destructive. “What are we
doing
, Patrick? I don’t want to fight anymore. I barely remember how we got this way.”
His lips tugged up a little. Not quite a smile, and more rueful than amused. “As I recall, I blew you off because I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on work if I was busy reliving the hottest fuck of my life.”
More truth. “If we work together, that’s never going to change. We might as well just say this thing between us is never going to happen.” One last challenge, and she meant every word.
But she still hoped.
Nothing, for one second. Two. The challenge hung between them as Patrick studied her, his gaze sliding over her face.
Then he moved, crashing into her hard enough to drive her back to the bed as his lips crushed against hers.
She clung to him as she opened her mouth under his, but already the edge of fear that usually gripped her had vanished. His kiss felt different, like there was no safety brake this time. Like he’d kiss her until she made him stop.
He rolled them with a groan, dragging her on top of him so they lay at an angle across the bed. He shoved one hand into her hair and tilted her mouth above his. “Take off your damn clothes before I mess this up.”
“You couldn’t.” But she tore off her jacket, tossed it off the bed and pulled his hand up under the hem of her T-shirt. Every soft brush or hard bite of his fingers sparked fire in her belly, and she shivered. “You could probably make me come by breathing on me.”
“Maybe after I get you out of your pants.” He pushed his hand higher and groaned when his fingers slid over her bare breast. “Fuck, I knew you weren’t wearing a damn bra.”
“I don’t like them.” She caught his mouth again and teased her tongue over his as she kicked off her boots and undid her belt.
He jerked her shirt higher, pulled it up until she had to break the kiss so he could haul it over her head. “You are so damn gorgeous.” He mumbled the words against her chin before kissing her throat. His next kiss landed on her collarbone, then the curve of her breast.
Anna closed her eyes and drove her fingers into his hair as his mouth brushed her nipple. No fantasy could have matched this, the way it felt to have him eagerly exploring every inch of skin as it was revealed, as if he couldn’t wait.
Neither could she.
He tugged at her nipple, sucking it between his lips, and she almost bit her tongue. “Shirt,” she whispered, already pushing her jeans off her hips.
“Busy,” he muttered. He cupped her other breast, fingers tugging and toying with the nipple not enduring the lash of his tongue.
Anna bit her lip to hold back a needy moan. “If you won’t help me…” She lifted his shirt far enough to dig her nails into his stomach, then straddled his leg and ground down against his thigh.
He groaned, caught her hips and rolled again. His boot crashed into the lamp on the bedside table, knocking it sideways. The shade tilted up, leaving Patrick starkly backlit as he loomed above her for one frozen moment. “We’re going to tear this place to pieces.”
“I know.” She clenched her hand in his shirt and arched. “I don’t care, either. It’s been a while.”
“A while?” He dropped another kiss to her collarbone before licking the hollow of her throat. “Does that mean you want it fast or slow?”
The idea of leisurely sex made her laugh. “If you can do slow right now, you have more self-control than me.” She rubbed her leg against the front of his jeans—and the hard ridge of his erection nestled beneath.
He smiled against her chest as he trailed lower. “Hey, I could have tried.”
She recognized the teasing glint in his eye, and anticipation wound through her. “What do
you
want?”
“You.” He hesitated over the ink on her side, and his eyes lit up. “And to see all the new tattoos. This isn’t the only one, is it?”
“No.” She wiggled onto her stomach, knowing full well what would catch his eye—the small barbed-wire heart at the small of her back. “Sometimes, the Ink Shrink isn’t so subtle with his imagery.”
“Prickly hearted, huh?” His warm breath skated over her skin as he leaned down to kiss the tattoo. “This is a lot cuter than Andrew’s giant phoenix.”
Anna shivered and pulled her hair to one side. “And this is the last one,” she whispered, baring the stylized dragon on her left shoulder blade.
“How did…? I got an eyeful of you naked in the bayou. We showered together.” He touched the ink. “How did I not see this?”
The slight caress raised goose bumps on her flesh, and she twisted far enough to look up at him as she propped her head on her hand. “One of the Shrink’s tricks, I guess. No one seems to notice it until I point it out. Don’t ask me why.”
“Huh.” His eyes went dreamy, unfocused, and he traced one fingertip over the dragon’s wing. “Yeah, there’s more magic in this one. It glows even more than the rest of you.”
“Maybe it’s meant to protect me while I go around slaying dragons.” Anna touched a line of ink that peeked out above the collar of his T-shirt. “I showed you mine.”
He blinked, then grinned and reared up, still straddling her legs as he stripped his shirt over his head and tossed it over the TV. “You’ve seen them before.”
Anna sat up and eyed the way his muscles flexed under the curling tail of a scorpion. Her fingers itched to touch it, but she kept her hands clenched in the bedspread. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I haven’t really paid attention.”
“No wrong way to take it.” He smoothed her hair back with both hands before cupping her cheeks. “You see me. That’s sexy.”
“I see you.” She could hear his heart thudding, so she leaned in and brushed a kiss over the center of his chest. “I tried to stop, but it turns out you’re pretty damn unforgettable.”
He jerked her head back and kissed her again, a rough, urgent kiss as he loomed over her, the difference in their respective sizes more obvious than ever. Between his thighs over hers and his hand in her hair, he had her pinned, motionless.
She’d never felt more free.
She scratched her nails down his spine and parted her lips in invitation, thrilling at the dizzying sensation of his tongue on hers. Thrust and retreat, lick and bite, he kissed like a wolf—or like he was trying to claim one.
Or be claimed. Anna broke the kiss and turned her attention to one of the swirls of ink wrapping around his rib cage. She rubbed her thumb over it and met his gaze. “Let me up. Then sit.”
He didn’t obey, though he eased back and up, so that she could move her legs. “You alpha wolves are so cute when you get bossy.”
“I’m not being alpha,” she murmured. “It’s just that I can’t lick you if I can’t reach.”
His gaze darkened. “And where are you going to lick me?”
He was moving—but slowly. Anna leaned back on her elbows to wait. “I think I’ll start with your shoulders and work my way down.”
Patrick laughed and rolled away to sit on the edge of the bed. “We fuck like we fight.”