Page 5 of Come Fill Me

“He’s at a private facility,” the man in the passenger seat said, his manner gentle and kind. “It was the closest to where he was injured.”

It didn’t make sense, but Liz hadn’t challenged it. The man’s compassionate tone quieted her doubt. Minutes later, her unease returned as they drove past the last of the city into the surrounding desert, empty and black.

At the utter isolation, panic flared. Liz’s heart pounded so wildly her voice shook. “What facility’s out here?”

“A private one,” he repeated. “We’ll be there shortly.”

The darkness made the ride seem too long, her companions surreal. Nauseated with fear, she’d finally seen lights in the distance and then a sprawling estate.

Inside the opulent master bedroom, Liz got her first glimpse of Carreon. His well-toned body lay motionless on the bed’s russet comforter, its fabric bearing no bloodstains from themany bullet wounds marring his torso.

Clearly, he hadn’t been shot in this room, and his impending death wouldn’t be pleasant. A look of terror spoiled his handsome features. The odor of blood dirtied the air. Beneath it was the scent of a citrusy furniture polish and a man’s expensive cologne.

Confusion heightened her alarm. She asked, “Who is that? Where’s my father?”

“He’s safe,” the man with the caring voice said, blocking her so she couldn’t search for her father or leave. “We were just at his house, asking for his help, but he refused. That’s why we needed you here.”

“What are you talking about?” She stepped back. “Why should I help you if he—”

“Listen to me,” he urged. “We told your father that Neekoma did this to our leader…your leader.” He gestured to the bed. “That bastard ambushed Carreon when he arrived to discuss a truce. One Neekoma said he wanted. It was all a trick.” Fury colored his words. Inhaling deeply, he calmed himself and spoke in that same gentle tone. “Your father told us he didn’t care. He’s sick of all the fighting. Since he lost his wife…” The young man’s words faded away. His eyes welled with tears.

He hadn’t needed to say anything else. Liz was well aware of her father’s anguish over losing her mother. Always a strong man, he’d changed with her death, becoming reclusive and quiet, leaving Liz to take over his pediatric practice.

“If Carreon dies,” the young man continued, “all of our people will be at risk. Neekoma’s going to strike fast and hard. He’ll murder our women and children so our line dies out, just as his kind have always wanted. He’ll kill those like you and your father so we have no one to heal us. You have to help us. Please.”

His lies had convinced Liz that Neekoma was worse than an animal…Carreon was the truly good man who’d wanted to endthe battle and was about to lose his life instead.

That night, she crossed the line from an observer in her people’s war to an active participant, restoring Carreon’s health, rejoicing at his growing vitality, his body strengthened by her gift.

Healed, Carreon had cupped her face in his palms, murmuring his thanks, his thumbs stroking her cheeks, leaving bursts of pleasure in their wake. Bold and commanding, he regarded her, his potent gaze calling to the female within, driving away whatever reservations she had.

When he pinned her to the mattress with his body and strength, Liz hadn’t resisted. As he suckled her throat, his tongue lapping her skin, she yielded even more, moaning shamelessly. It was all the encouragement he needed. His hands roamed her nudity with a right she’d given him, seeking then separating her vaginal lips, puffy with lust. Without pause, she welcomed his cock inside, becoming his lover, his eager slave.

Months later, she learned what kind of man he really was and the truth of what he’d done. By then, it was too late to save her father or herself.

She shuddered at the horrible memories then started at Carreon’s touch. Without pause, Liz pulled her arm away.

Undaunted, he captured her hand, resting it on his left thigh, his grip warning her not to deny him. Beneath her fingers, his thigh muscles jumped.

He murmured, “You’re recalling our first time.”

She wanted him dead but feigned indifference and glanced past. In one of the ubiquitous strip malls, a carnival was going full blast, the neon lights of its Ferris wheel and other rides flashing in festive yellows, greens, reds. Children shrieked in wonder. Calliope music played.

Past the happy scene, the dying sun tinted the Organ Mountains an outrageous blend of gold and scarlet, deepeningthe shadows between its craggy peaks. The colors resembled a smoldering fire or an artist’s version of hell.

“We had so much,” Carreon said.

Caught between laughing derisively and clawing out his eyes, Liz fought to control herself. “How’s my father?”

He squeezed her hand with fake concern. “Safe.” He smiled. “For the moment.”

Twisting her wrist, Liz freed her hand, keeping it from him. “Do anything to him, and I swear you’ll regret it.”

Carreon’s smile hung on, but danger blazed in his eyes. “Are you threatening me?”

Fucking A. “Harm him in the least, and you’ll never be safe from me, Carreon. I’ll make you pay.”

Yellow beams from streetlamps cut across his face, silvering his eyes. They remained on her, reminding Liz of how a cat looks when regarding its next meal.

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