Entity Mine (5 page)

Women had always been available. There were plenty of girls who liked danger. Or liked it rough and thought a man like him, raised in the system and then in the military, could give it to them. Oh, they would never have wanted more than a fling, but they’d wanted him. He’d never wanted back. But Devon . . . . . . He didn’t
want
her. He
craved
her, the way his stomach craved food.

He reached out to move a curl from her cheek and his hand passed through her flesh. He fisted his hand and after another minute lay down next to her.

What could it hurt, after all?

A crack in the curtains leaked moonlight onto the bed and silvered Devon’s profile. He let his gaze linger on her peaceful face. He wondered what it was like to be totally at ease.

He couldn’t remember a time in his adult life he hadn’t fought the other side of him, though the struggle had never been as bad as the months before he’d almost choked the life out of Laird.

The dark cozy room and the balm of her presence wrapped around him. He let his breathing sync with hers. He’d just rest here for a second.

Chapter 8

Devon hefted her weapon and stared down her night vision scope. The moonlit jungle was suddenly illuminated in eerie shades of green. She took a deep breath through her nose and listened for movement. Her pulse was elevated, but steady—she’d done this many times—then she turned to gesture to the huge man dressed in camouflage behind her.

The sight of him, his dark-brown face streaked with stripes of paint, jarred her.

Where
was
she?

She looked down at her body and froze to take stock. Covered from head to toe in camouflage, like the other man, she towered over her normal height, and though she’d never shot a gun, the heavy, tan camo-painted weapon she carried felt comfortable in her hands, like a natural extension of her body. The verdant tangle of vines around her owned the sharp edges of a memory and the skewed tilt of a nightmare.

Damn, this wasn’t a dream. This was a vision.

Panic jacked her heart rate. Her hands shook. She adjusted her grip on the MK-17.
Calm down, Devon. It’s not like this is your first vision.

The man at her six gestured at her. She didn’t understand his rapid hand jive, but whoever owned the memory did. He pivoted, looking down his rifle sights, and advancing on a concrete pre-fab building covered in dark stains.

It might not be her first vision, and it had been a while, but had they ever been this god damn intense? She could smell the mold growing on the building, feel the spongy jungle soil under her combat boots.

She glanced at the large, capable hands gripping the weapon. Whose life was she re-living?

The answer hit her like a breeze from a slammed door. Ethan, of course. She should have known from the first.

This was Ethan’s memory and from the setting she didn’t think it was some random day at the beach.

There was a weather-pitted metal door ahead. It seemed to pulse with menace. She so did not want to see this.

Wake up, Devon!
She yelled at herself.
Wake up!

The command had usually worked in the past, but something was different this time, no matter how many times she gave the order, she couldn’t break free. Adrenaline burned in her limbs.

She had no choice. She had to ride it out.

The group of six men stacked up beside the rusty metal door. A charge was set. The door blew and the SEALs spilled in.

The operation went sideways almost as soon as they entered what she assumed was a warehouse of some kind. She flinched as armed men fired over the railing of a long catwalk on the far side of the massive room. The crack of the shots echoed through the warehouse.

Ethan took a bullet in the shoulder, but kept advancing. Even the memory of the fiery pain made Devon want to vomit. Her heart rate soared into crazy town levels.

Pull out!
she pleaded in her mind.
Retreat
! But of course, this had all happened when Ethan was alive. There was no changing it.

A SEAL made it to the stairs, but he went down on the metal treads. Another man, the black guy who’d been behind Ethan, stormed forward. He grabbed his comrade by his bulky vest and dragged him back while Ethan and the others sprayed bullets in short bursts, providing covering fire for the two men. Hot casings jangled on the chipped concrete like some sort of twisted bells.

The firefight seemed to last forever. Devon felt every ounce of Ethan’s pain and her own fear and horror at the carnage all around them. How had he’d survived this with his soul intact? Maybe this was what held him in this house instead of crossing over.

Finally, another man called for retreat. She staggered with relief. Or was that Ethan struggling with his wound?

The edges of the vision frayed and melted like film snagged on a movie projector. Another landscape clicked into view. Now, she stood dressed in her PJs in the meditation garden she’d created in her mind. She turned around and saw Ethan.

The sight of him whole and uninjured brought grateful tears to her eyes, but the idea she might be in another vision vanished as he stalked toward her, his face hard with anger. “What gives you the right to eavesdrop on my past?”

His size and strength should have been intimidating, but she didn’t step back. He wouldn’t hurt her. Still, his upset wrenched at her insides. She extended a placating hand. “Ethan, I’m sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

A muscle clenched in his jaw, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. Some of the tension drained from his face. “I--my dreams aren’t always the nicest places. Except--” his cheekbones flushed a little and he looked over his shoulder at her dream garden.

She lifted an eyebrow. “Except?”

She made a ‘come on’ motion with her hand, but he just shook his head. “Never mind.”

She titled her head. “Okay. But can I ask about the dream I interrupted?”

He shrugged and reached up to massage his shoulder through his black T-shirt. She imagined a puckered scar marred the flesh underneath.

“There’s not much to tell. The op should have been a quick in and out to rescue a kidnapped American. Pretty typical, but our intel was bad and we walked into an ambush. I took a bullet.”

“What about the other man who got shot?”

“He didn’t make it.”

A sick feeling generated a shudder in her chest. She studied the lush grass on the ground to hide the moisture in her eyes.

“What?”

What
? “You could have been killed, too.”

“As opposed to what?” His chuckle held a bitter ring. “Dying a few years later?”

Her face burned. “I suppose. But then, we never would have met.”
If they really were meeting and this wasn’t just a dream
.

He fell silent for a moment, then walked to the fountain and dipped his hand in the water. He scooped a handful and drank, but then groaned.

She went to him. “Ethan? Are you okay?”

“I’m just so damned thirsty and hungry.”

Odd. She’d never had an entity express physical pain unless they were re-living their death. “Is it possible you starved to death?”

His broad shoulders lifted. “I don’t think so. One minute I was solid and the next moment I wasn’t.”

He threw his head back, his features compressed with pain. “Will you talk to me? It takes my mind off it.”

“Sure. Come on.” She held out her hand to him.

He hesitated then took it. The clasp of his hand over hers made her stomach dip. For a moment they just stood there, holding hands.

He looked away. “Where’re we going?”

She smiled, happy for no reason at all. “This is my dream, I guess. Where do you want to go?”

“Hmm.” His hazel eyes glinted. “The ocean?”

She laughed. “What a surprise.” She closed her eyes to concentrate and when she opened them they stood surrounded by sand, the waves of a vast blue ocean crashing yards away.

He scanned the view as if noting every palm tree. “Is this a particular place?”

“Yes and no.” She kicked at the sand with a bare foot. “My Dad’s mom lived in Lily Dale. She was a spiritualist and a full member of the community, but she had a place in Key West she went to on the off-season. We stopped going after she died, so I have to fill in the gaps in my memory,”

“How old were you?”

“Five.”

They walked down the beach for a moment without speaking. Devon supposed she should drop Ethan’s hand, she’d only meant to bring him into her dream construct after all, but she couldn’t make herself let go. It felt too good.

“What’s it like being a medium?” He gave her a teasing glance, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Though, you look more like a small to me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, like I haven’t heard that one before.”

“Well?”

“I haven’t been a medium for a while actually.”

“Lost weight?”

She bumped him with her shoulder. Despite their linked hands, they’d been maintaining a space between them, but Devon didn’t move away again, the brush of his muscled arm against her raised a pleasant hum inside her body. He slid her a sidelong glance, but didn’t compensate.

Her heart light, she smiled at the ground. “I had a bad experience. It seemed like a good idea to try something else, but I guess I failed at that, too.”

“I overheard something about that the first day you were here.”

“You did, did you? Now, who’s eavesdropping?”

He shrugged. “As a ghost, it kind of comes with the territory.”

To avoid discussing the disaster at M and N, she turned the conversation back to her family. “Actually, my grandmother was the first spirit I ever crossed over.”

“I thought she was a medium, you’d think she’d cross over on her own.”

“She wasn’t afraid to cross over. She just had to have the last word.”

He grinned. “What do you mean?”

“Grandma and my father had been having an argument about her will. She wanted me to have her jewelry. My father thought it was a waste. He wanted to sell it and put the money in my college fund. Of course, I was a little kid, I didn’t know about any of it. Anyway, she died before they settled the argument. So she started coming to me. I kept telling my mother, but Mom wasn’t a believer and she thought I’d upset my father, so she told me not to tell him.”

“That must have been confusing.”

She shook her head. Confusing was an understatement. “Yeah. Finally, one night at dinner I just told him. He agreed to save the jewelry for me and she crossed over. Spirits came pretty regularly after that.”

“And your mom started to believe?”

“Nope, she never did.” That fact had always kept a barrier between them.

“So both your parents are gone, but you still came back to Cassadaga?”

She turned her face to the warm, sunny sky. “Yeah, came running home with my tail between my legs.” A glance in his direction found he’d fixed that gold-flecked gaze on her.

He tilted his head. “To be a medium again.”

“I guess. Mostly I put up the plaque so I’d feel like I had a plan, but to do it again, for real? We’ll see.” The memory of her teenaged expedience hovered over her like a shadow. She rubbed her upper arms against the chill.

He seemed to pick up on her thoughts. “I think it’s pretty cool of you to try and help Beth, even though you’ve been burned.”

His praise warmed her. She smiled and he pulled her into his side, sliding his arm around her body. They stopped walking and she stared into his fascinating eyes. His gaze dropped to her mouth and her breath hitched. Slowly he leaned in, but before his lips could touch hers a buzz tore her from sleep.

She stared up at the ceiling, panting, her body still wrapped up in the excitement of Ethan’s approaching kiss. “God damn it!” She blew out a long sigh in frustration.

She flopped to the right and looked at her phone. It vibrated again. She groaned in frustration. She’d missed Ethan’s kiss for a freaking text from her bank.

With a sigh, she turned back to the other side, and to her surprise, she gazed into Ethan’s face, not the picture on the wall. The man lying naked on the bed next to her. His eyes were closed as if he slept.

Her heart raced. She still dreamed, of course. The man she knew only from a photograph was dead, but he looked real and when she touched the face highlighted and striped by the light and shadow from the window, he felt real. The heat of him seared her fingertips.

He opened his eyes.

His irises shone silver-green in the moonlight, like new grass. She rubbed her fingers across the inky, crew-cut on the back of his head, enjoying the silky but prickly texture. He groaned, almost purred. She wanted to feel that sexy mouth on hers. Why not? She’d been denied earlier and it was only a dream. With that thought she pressed forward, capturing his lips. Warm and firm, pliable, but fierce. A moan reached her ears and she thought it might have come from her, but she was too involved in the hungry kiss to examine the sound further.

She scooted closer. The touch of his mouth tugged on places inside she hadn’t felt in a long time. God, the sensation felt like paradise. Everything in her contracted down to her toes. Her blood sang through her veins.

He tasted sweet and spicy like a mixture of cinnamon, honey, and ginger. An “mmmm” slipped from her throat and she could feel it echo in the hard-muscled chest only inches from her own.

His tongue ventured into her mouth and touched hers in a lightning-fast flick that made her stomach flip. She hadn’t thought the kiss could get better, but she’d been wrong. The hot, wet caress was like none she’d ever known. Excitement drove her to pant. Other men’s more intimate touches paled in comparison to this simple kiss.

Their bodies came together as if magnetized, his large body strong and thrilling against hers. His rough hand grasped the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. The room seemed to whirl. The sweet duel of their tongues, the fevered press of his mouth, the pressure of his muscles against her softness was all she could think about. The world was this bed and the man touching her. She prayed for this moment to continue. Prayed that the light of morning wouldn’t wake her. Not yet.

He murmured her name and the sound rumbled though her bones like a lion’s roar.

She drew back to look at him, her gaze devouring the almost feral lines of his face, the sleek strong lines of his neck and below.

His eyes crinkled at the corners. Whatever he saw in her expression made him appear amused and satisfied, like a huge tomcat after a sumptuous meal.

The curve of his shoulder lured her hand once more and this time she cradled it with her palm. The sleek surface of his flesh beneath her fingers was intoxicating and she stroked a path down the warm, velvety skin laid out before her.