Page 3 of Come Fill Me

Determined not to show her fear, Liz didn’t move as Carreon’s attention lingered on her mouth then moved to herdemure attire—a white blouse, khaki-colored skirt, and sensible heels.

Given the way he regarded her, she might as well have been wearing lingerie rather than business attire. Perhaps he was imagining her nude, bent over her desk, ready to be mounted or whipped.

She’d certainly invited both activities in the past, enjoying each.

As though he’d read her thoughts, Carreon’s full lips tilted upward in what seemed to be appreciation, heightening his male allure.

Her jaw clenched. How many women had he duped with his smile and commanding demeanor? How many had found his shaved head and the earring in his left lobe just the right touch, giving him the look of a thug or a modern-day pirate? Untamed, reckless. The kind of man many females would have found irresistible.

Liz certainly had.

Now that she was immune to his male beauty, she regarded him with clinical detachment.

Good health and strength radiated from his lean, six-one frame. In his mid-thirties, he was at his prime, his bearing and expression formidable, the same as his ancestors. Within him, the blood of the Aztecs and the Unknowns flowed, his heritage no different from hers. A shared ethnicity that should have colored his irises hazel—Liz’s shade—or made them as dark as Sabine’s.

Instead, Carreon’s eyes were a pale blue, a startling contradiction to his bronze complexion, black brows, and that damned earring…a silver eagle’s feather that glimmered beneath the bright fluorescent light. Not once had Liz seen him without the item, not even those times she’d bathed with him.

Curious, she’d asked why he never removed it.

He’d explained on a sigh.“It belonged to the first enemy I took down. As he died, I tore it from his lobe.”He studied her face as though to gauge her reaction. When she remained accepting of him, he continued,“It’s a part of him that’ll always belong to me. I’ll do the same, taking a token from Neekoma’s body when I get rid of him.”

Liz had asked no more, nor had she pondered the wisdom or righteousness of Carreon’s plan. Zeke Neekoma was an abomination to her people, the leader of the clan they’d been feuding with for millennia. In the early days, the conflicts began over territory and resources as all clashes seemed to do. With the passing of time, the hatred between the clans escalated beyond food and land, driven by some of the leaders’ determination to rid their territory of those unlike themselves. Their version of ethnic cleansing. Despite many attempts at uneasy truces, the cultural differences and male machismo resulted in continuing flare-ups of a battle without end, similar to those in the Middle East. A hidden war the citizens of this country knew nothing about, just as they had no idea of the alien blood within Liz’s people and those of Neekoma’s.

In the beginning of man’s rule on earth, the Others and the Unknowns had crossed deep space, arriving at this planet in their exploration of the universe. Legends claimed that the aliens hadn’t brought women with them, and so they’d given in to lust, mating with the Aztec and Comanche females, leaving a few of their progeny with otherworldly gifts. For those in Liz’s clan, it was the power to heal. For those in Neekoma’s, the ability to see the future.

The tales never indicated if the Unknowns and the Others would return, but the elders believed it was possible, refusing to leave their territory in the hope that one day their ancestors would come home, perhaps bestowing even more supernatural gifts on their earthly children. Some even claimed the aliensmight be walking among the clan now, watching to see if they protected the territory given them, ready to strip their offspring of their powers if they dared relinquish any of their land.

Liz wasn’t certain if it was nonsense or not, nor could she dwell upon it, given tonight’s circumstances. She wondered which of Carreon’s lieutenants Neekoma had shot this time, with Carreon expecting her to heal the man so he could rejoin a never-ending conflict. Her belly twisted at the thought of more violence, what her refusal to help might bring. The consequences would be swift and merciless, unless she found a way to stop Carreon first.

As though he’d read her thoughts again, his smile faded. Stepping away from the window, he approached.

Instinct urged Liz to back away. Resolve to defy him, even in such a small matter, kept her rooted in place.

Carreon’s dark brows drew together even as his body remained relaxed, his manner deceptively casual. “We need to leave now.” He spoke just shy of a whisper. “While the body still has a bit of life.”

The body.No name, no sorrow, only ruthless efficiency.

“Who?” she asked, wanting to know which of his lieutenants could be so important to have brought him here, something he’d never done before. “Victor?” she said. He’d killed the most for Carreon. “Roberto?” Torture was his specialty.

Carreon exchanged a glance with his men. Unexpected delight raced across their faces.

“Neekoma,” he said.

Stunned at his answer, Liz advanced a step. They were close enough to touch…to kiss. The thought repelled her. “Zeke Neekoma?”

Carreon wore a look of mock innocence. “Who else?”

Liz didn’t understand. “He’s going to die just as you’ve always wanted. So why are you here? Why would you need me ifhe’s nearly gone?”

“I think you know.” His expression turned icy. “He’s more valuable to me if he’s alive and well. I expect your help.”

He expected her to do to Neekoma what she’d done to his injured men. Caressing their naked flesh, exploring the geography of their bodies, touching each part, tasting them, smelling their unique scents, drowning in those fragrances, coaxing them to heal.

Unable to help herself, Liz stated the obvious. “He’s not one of us.” Within him flowed the blood of the Comanche and the Others. “I can heal our people, at least most of the time. What if I can’t do the same with him?”

“You will,” Carreon said. “We’re leaving now.” He offered her his hand.

Liz knew the pleasure his touch could bring, along with pain if she resisted in the least. If she failed.

---