Faith Black had been beaten, drugged and imprisoned, but none of that scared her. No, what frightened her to the core was the man confined with her. Chained to an improvised medieval rack and bare from the waist up, he lay on his back, arms over his head, his incredible chest marred by bruises and a deep laceration that extended from his left pec to his right hip.
He might have been rendered immobile, but he was in no way helpless.
His weapon, far more dangerous than the telekinesis—to her, at least—was his overpowering sexuality, a force that tugged her toward him, made her burn with need despite their grave situation.
Head pounding from a brutal blow to her cheek, she pushed to her feet and padded close, her nudity barely registering. She’d been stripped naked while unconscious, her clothes tossed into one corner of the windowless, steel-walled room. The weak yellow light from the single bulb emphasized the deep amber of Wyatt’s eyes, no longer green, as he settled into the transitional period many telekinetics experienced when their powers flared up. The air in the room stilled, and the chain around his right ankle began to rattle.
“Don’t,” she said quietly.
He shifted his head to look at her as though he hadn’t realized she’d regained consciousness. “Faith.” His voice was rough, as haunted as his gaze. “I didn’t tell him. I swear.”
“Tell who what?”
“Your boyfriend. I didn’t tell him about us. He knew.”
“Sean’s not my boyfriend,” she said, and Wyatt cocked a dark eyebrow like he didn’t believe her. “And I know you didn’t say anything.”
She knew, because she’d been the one to spill the beans that she and Wyatt had been sleeping together.
Wyatt’s head lolled back so he was staring up at the steel beams crisscrossing the ceiling. The corded tendons in his neck strained and tightened as he swallowed. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”
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 inhaled him into her, the masculine scent that threw her off balance whenever he came near. No, she couldn’t blame him for anything, least of all her out-of-control desire for him. He was here to do a job, just like she was, which meant getting the assignment done by any means necessary.
“I’m not here because Sean is jealous.” Though Sean was, furiously so, but Wyatt didn’t need to know that.
Dragging her gaze from the strong, ruggedly handsome features of his face, she let her mind focus on a realm of existence most people never saw. Instantly, Wyatt’s aura became visible, a shifting, undulating layer of light around his body. And God, something was wrong, so wrong she nearly gasped.
Wyatt radiated power, so his aura should reflect the same. Instead, it stretched thin around his body like an ill-fitting, secondhand coat, ridden with weak spots and holes, as though he’d suffered repeated supernatural attacks. She could repair the damage, but her efforts would amount to little more than a patch job on his psychic garment. Replenishing his aura, renewing it . . . that only he could do, subconsciously, through healthy living and mental wholeness.
For now, she concentrated on the cut on his chest, worked her power into a psi needle and thread that knit the wound together. The muscles in his abs rippled, carved so deeply that they cast shadows on one another. She knew how they felt beneath her touch, how they flexed when they rubbed against her belly, and she had to clench her hands to keep from reaching for him.
The wound closed in a whisper of sound, and Wyatt sucked in a harsh breath. “Jesus. You’re a fucking agent.”
His eyes glowed amber again, and the chains binding him rattled.
“Please don’t,” she said, letting her psychic fingers slide south on his body. “Let me. Follow my lead.”
He moaned and then grit his teeth against the sensations she sent streaming into his groin.
“I’m going to need you to scream, Wyatt. Scream like I’m killing you.”
His shaft began to swell with each of her virtual caresses deep inside his body, and his eyes flashed green fire. “You are, Faith.” His voice rumbled, dark, dangerous. “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.”
Excerpted from Seduced by the Storm by Sydney Croft. Copyright © 2008 by Sydney Croft. Excerpted by permission of Delta, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.