Tanner's Scheme
Page 15Scheme tensed as her father’s expression, lined with supposed grief, filled the screen.
“Whatever Scheme has done, she doesn’t deserve to die,” he was saying in response to the reporter’s claim that she might have been kidnapped in retaliation for the attack against the Breed base, Sanctuary, several months before. “If she’s used my contacts and my resources to inflict more pain on the Breeds, then it should be dealt with through the proper channels. Justice will not be served by hurting her or, God forbid, killing her.”
Her lip curled as the screen blackened.
Her gaze swung to Tanner and the remote he was lowering to the couch beside him.
“Turn it back on,” she snapped. “I want to hear it.”
“Your half hour is over. Actually, it turned into close to forty minutes. You owe me for the extra time.”
“Like hell. Turn it back on.”
The lying bastard. She knew her father was a monster; she had known it for years, for most of her life, but she had never realized what a consummate actor he truly was.
Tanner stared back at her, unconcerned. “No.”
Her fists clenched at her sides. “Why?” she snapped. “Afraid I might actually believe his lies? That I might cause you more trouble to return to his loving arms?” she sneered.
“No,” he said softly. “I’m more worried that if I have to smell the scent of your pain much longer, I’ll end up losing control and go after his throat myself. Which would do nothing to help you.”
She sneered hatefully. “Of course it would bother you that he beat me,” she snarled. “Now, why didn’t I think of that? A Breed would, of course, be concerned for a Tallant’s welfare.”
Not.
She knew better than that.
“You didn’t rescue me from Chaz, Tanner—you kidnapped me for your own ends and you’re keeping me here for the same reason. Is it all about fucking me?” she bit out sarcastically. “Oh, yeah, I can just see that one. You’re just dying to fuck the daughter of the man who tortured your entire fucking family.” Cold, hard mockery finished the sentence. She knew better. “Just tell me what you want, Tanner. What is the cost of my freedom?”
“Your safety.”
She glared back at him, her expression twisted with disbelief. Only her father’s spy would care how she intended to cover her own ass.
“My safety,” she repeated chillingly. “Tell you what. Release me, give me a secured cell phone, and within hours, I’ll be safe. I promise you that. All you have to do is let me go.”
“Tell me who you would call first.” He rose from the couch with a smooth flex of muscle. “The same bastard who stole that information in New Mexico last month?”
“I could only get so lucky,” she snapped. “No, Tanner, my contact isn’t your unknown thief. And who it is is none of your business. Now let me go.”
She couldn’t control the shiver when he touched her though. When his hands settled on the thin silk covering her hips and his chest brushed against her suddenly distended nipples.
“I can’t let you go,” he said softly, his head lowering until her vision was filled with the sexual intensity in his gaze.
“Why?” Her hands settled on his chest, not to push him away, not to pull him closer. Just to touch him, to feel the warmth of him. “You’ve had me. It’s time to end this game now.”
One hand moved from her waist to cup the side of her face, his thumb brushing over her lips as they parted helplessly. Anger was melting beneath pleasure despite her attempts to hold on to it. She needed to stay angry with him. She needed a defense against his touch other than the suspicion that he could be her father’s spy.
“I don’t know.” His brow gathered into a frown. “Maybe because I don’t trust you. Because too many people are out to kill you. And maybe because I need more of this.”
His head lowered and his lips were on hers again. Parting them, his tongue slid inside as she whimpered against it.
Tearing herself away from him was almost impossible. Almost more than she was capable of. As she backed away from him, she was aware of her weakening thighs, the soft, heated dampness between them and the tingle of pleasure that lingered on her lips.
“You can’t keep me forever.”
“Don’t bet on that,” he sighed roughly. “At this point, Scheme, don’t bet on anything. Not until I figure out the puzzle you’ve become. Fucking me won’t change that; it will just make the time pass more pleasantly.”
“I’m not a puzzle for you to figure out.”
His short laugh was mocking. “Sorry, love, that’s exactly what you are. From the reason your father wants you dead to the reason you don’t like old reruns. I could make a list of questions to start with if you like.” His eyes were suddenly gleaming playfully, inviting her to join in.
“I’ll find my way out,” she warned him desperately.
“Not going to happen, darlin’.” He sighed, moving back to the couch. “But I tell you what, come here and cuddle with me and I’ll let you watch the INS. I like it better.”
The International News Service. It was better than nothing.
“Cuddle with you?” she asked in disbelief.
“Yep. Cuddle with me.” He sat down, stretching one long leg out on the couch as he propped the other foot on the floor. “Come on, Sugar, we’ll watch the news together or I can watch Gilligan. There’s several hours left.”
She shuddered as he patted the area between his legs. “I dare you.”
Her eyes narrowed as he lifted the remote. “News or Gilligan. Make your choice, Sugar.”
If only she didn’t want to sit there, cushioned by his broad chest, his arms around her. Feeling a warmth she had only dreamed of, feeling a need she had never allowed herself to recognize before Tanner.
“You aren’t allowed to molest me,” she snapped.
“You aren’t allowed to make the rules,” he grunted. “Now come here, pretty girl, before I change my mind. You know, I’ve been looking forward to that Gilligan’s Island marathon for months. You’re lucky I’m making the offer.”
She should feel guilty for knocking him out of the show, she was sure.
“They’re reruns, for God’s sake.” She settled carefully on the couch, between his thighs, turning toward the television and leaning back distrustfully.
“They’re in order,” he argued lightly, pulling her fully against his chest. “But cuddling you could compensate me. You know, Scheme, I don’t cuddle women much,” he told her as he flicked the television on.
“Cabal does the cuddling for you?” She snorted.
He chuckled against her chest. “Naw, Cabal’s not a cuddler either. But I think I like holding you.” One arm draped around her stomach. “I think I like holding you a lot.”
How had he known that world events and news would fascinate her? Tanner wondered as he settled back into the corner of the couch and watched the news.
Scheme was a pleasant weight against his chest, her head on his shoulder, her hair spreading out across his chest.
How many times had he entered Callan and Merinus’s private suite to find them on the couch just like this, watching soap operas. Their pride leader was fascinated with his mate’s soap operas.
For a man who had never cared much for television before he mated, Callan had become a regular couch potato during the quiet evenings at Sanctuary. That, or he really didn’t give a damn what he watched as long as he could hold his mate with close intimacy as they watched the shows.
But Scheme wasn’t his mate. He had been checking closely for the signs of it, close enough that his tongue was nearly raw from rubbing the sides of it over his teeth to check the glands there. There was nothing.
He wanted her.
He ached for her with a strength that made him half-crazy, but there was no mating hormone, no unusual sensitivity in his flesh.
Was it possible for a Breed to fall in love without mating? Even the scientists researching the phenomenon had no answer to that one. So far, every mated couple seemed deeply in love. The mating always came first though. The chemical, biological matching of two souls that would have been compatible, that would have loved anyway. But the heat had ensured it.
There was no mating heat with Scheme.
He should feel relieved, carefree; instead, the regret nearly choked him.
As they watched, news of the Breeds was reported. Jonas was standing in front of the offices of the Bureau of Breed Affairs, denying involvement in Scheme’s disappearance and stating the instances that the Breeds had always turned suspected Council members or collaborators over to the federal authorities once they had proof against them.
He answered the reporters in that hard, growling voice of his, a scowl on his face as Tanner chuckled.
“He’s not bad at handling them though,” she commented, her voice much calmer than the scent of her arousal.
“He bitches for hours after he has to hold a news conference.” He nuzzled his face into her hair, the thick sable silk stroking pleasantly against him. “Then he normally calls me and bitches at me for not handling it.”
“I didn’t hear the phone ringing,” she pointed out. “That news clip was made yesterday.”
“You were asleep.” He smiled against her hair, allowing the fingers that rested on her belly to rub against the silk of her shirt in little circles. “He threatened me, Scheme. Something about stuffing the trout I was catching up my ass.”
“You aren’t catching any trout.” Her voice was a bit breathless, husky.
Confronting Scheme with the hungers that rose between them wouldn’t work; he had found that out last night. A man had to wait until the hunger was more than she could bear. Not that she was entirely comfortable with it, he thought with a smile. His Scheme was as wary as a little cat.
She was also a damned control freak.
“This is more fun than catching trout.” He licked at the shell of her ear. “Takes more patience. Callan says I should work on that patience issue I have.”
A soft, feminine snort had a silent laugh tugging at his chest.
She was settling against him, relaxing a bit more, and as she did, the scent of sweet female heat became thicker. Damn, he’d loved that smell before he’d met her, but her particular scent he had become addicted to. It was sweet and tinted with spice, like syrup on a crisp winter morning. It had his mouth watering and his dick throbbing.
“I could see you with a patience issue,” she said softly. “That lazy Bengal Breed act of yours doesn’t fool everyone.”
“Most people it does,” he argued with a grin. “You’re just a perceptive little thing, pretty girl. You see me for what I am.”
“I studied you,” she admitted. “For years. Studied your lab files against the persona you project. You lie to a lot of people, Tanner. I can almost tell when you’re lying on television.”
“Hmm, dangerous thing to admit to,” he grumbled, feeling warmth he shouldn’t have felt, because she had managed to learn anything about him. “I can see you sitting in front of the television telling your daddy what the Breed plans are as you watch me lie.”
She was silent.
“Did you?” he whispered.
“No,” she said with a hint of sadness. “It was what he had me trained for, observation. He was very upset that I couldn’t tell him what he needed to know.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">