Man (Seven Forbidden Arts Book 9) Read online

  Why was she still breathing?

  Was he a sadistic beast who liked to play mind games? She threw the sheets aside and jumped from the bed, her legs wobbly from the climax. Grabbing the bedframe, she took a second to find her balance before rushing into the hallway and down the stairs, but the house was empty. The man was gone.

  She flicked on every lamp in her path on the way to the entrance. The alarm was on. Untouched.

  Reason returned. In the light, reality seemed harsher. What the hell had just happened? Was she finally losing her mind? She leaned against the wall, shaking from head to toe. Carefully, afraid of what she’d find, she trailed her fingers up her inner leg. The truth was slick and wet. It hadn’t been a figment of her imagination. A stranger had just breached her security and finger-fucked her in her bed.

  “What’s your take?” Lann asked when Cain walked into the base at six the following morning. “Will Mrs. Reid crack?”

  The Russian didn’t show his impatience, but it streamed off his mind. The whole team was eager to find Godfrey and put him behind them once and for all.

  “She’s strong,” Cain said thoughtfully. “It won’t be easy.”

  “We’re running out of time.”

  “Not yet.”

  Josselin walked into the lounge. “If Mrs. Reid is communicating with her husband, she’s doing it via a secure means that excludes cellphones or computers.”

  “Wrist pad?” Lann offered.

  “Maybe.” Cain considered the options. “I haven’t spotted one on her wrist or any other body part for that matter.”

  Clelia entered with a flask and cups on a tray. “She was wearing one yesterday. I noticed it when I followed her to the church.”

  “Didn’t take her for the religious type,” Josselin mused.

  Cain brushed a hand over his jaw. He needed a shave. “Is Ivan up?”

  Josselin exchanged a fleeting glance with his wife. “He’s working out in the garden. He was waiting for you to get in.”

  From the tense set of Josselin’s shoulders, Cain gathered there was trouble. He resisted the urge to read Josselin’s mind. He rarely compromised a person’s privacy in such an invasive manner unless for the mission. Refusing the cup of coffee Clelia held to him, he made his way to the open-air gym set up next to the pool. Ivan was doing pushups on a mat rolled out on the grass. When he spotted Cain, he got up and wiped his face on a towel. Shadows danced in his eyes.

  “News from Eve?” Cain asked.

  He shook his head. “Alice.”

  At the mention of his daughter, Cain stilled. Concern raced through his senses. “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s pregnant.”

  Joy replaced the concern, but he didn’t give rein to the feeling, yet. “Congratulations.” He patted his son-in-law on the back. “I know you’ve both been waiting for this for a long time.”

  “Thanks.” Ivan regarded him with reserve. “She’s been to see Eve.”

  That feeling of dread he sensed playing in the back of Ivan’s mind squashed the happiness he should be experiencing at becoming a grandfather. Eve wasn’t a normal doctor. She specialized in the forbidden arts, and seeing that Ivan was a necromancist it made sense that his daughter would seek out Eve’s professional assessment, but there was more.

  Ivan walked to the pool deck and retrieved his wrist pad. Holding it out to Cain, he showed him a 3D ultrasound scan. Cain took the wrist pad for a closer look. It showed a fully developed baby. A girl. His granddaughter. His fingers clenched on the device. Alice had to be close to delivering. Why hadn’t she told them sooner? It didn’t add up. It meant she had to have been seven or eight months pregnant by the time he’d left Chile with his team. Impossible. It would’ve shown.

  He studied Ivan. “Exactly how far is Alice pregnant?”

  Ivan’s jaw flexed and then bunched some more. “Three weeks.”

  Cain froze. Looking at the scan on the screen again, he asked, “The baby developed in three weeks?”

  Ivan propped his hands on his hips and hung his head, looking at Cain from under his scrunched eyebrows. “Alice felt nauseous yesterday. Her stomach started swelling in the afternoon. By evening, she could feel the baby kick. She called Eve this morning. They performed the scan and ran a blood test this morning. Alice didn’t want to worry us until she was certain.”

  Ivan’s haunted eyes confirmed Cain’s suspicion.

  “It’s got something to do with the seven cells,” Cain said.

  Ivan’s nostrils flared. His voice sounded tormented. “I did this to her. I infected her with the seven cells. It’s me who pushed for a baby. If I harmed her in any way, I’ll never live with myself.”

  “We don’t know anything for certain.” Cain returned Ivan’s wrist pad and activated the call function on his own. “What did Eve say?”

  “Nothing.” Ivan blew out a labored breath. “She doesn’t know what the hell is happening.”

  He dialed Eve at their New York lab. Apparently, she was waiting for the call.

  “Hi, Cain. I presume Ivan told you.”

  “How’s Alice?”

  “Fine. Great, actually.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Here. I decided to keep her in the lab, just in case.”

  “Good. What have you found?”

  “Since I spoke to Ivan last night, I ran several tests. As far as I can discern, the seven cells are present in the amniotic fluid. With Clelia and Kat’s pregnancies there were only the one forbidden art cell. I don’t know how, yet, but it seems the seven cells speed up the growth process.”

  “Anything new on Ivan’s condition?”

  “No biological changes in the cell tissue sample I took, but I’ve been testing it for transdifferentiation qualities such as regenerative properties. I’m running new tests on growth, now.”

  “Keep it up and let me know if there’s new information. May I speak to Alice, please?”

  “Hold on.”

  There was the sound of footsteps before Alice’s voice came onto the line. “Dad?”

  “How are you, princess?”

  Alice uttered a strained laugh. “Surprised. A little bit stressed. But I feel really good. I only wish Ivan was here.”

  “I know. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you, Dad.”

  “Take care of yourself, and call us the minute there are any changes.”

  “I will.”

  He cut the call.

  “I’m going to New York,” Ivan said, steel in his voice. “I want to be with her.”

  Conflict raged inside Cain. On the one hand, he wanted to go to his daughter and keep her as far away from the danger in Brazil as possible, but on the other hand, duty called. He’d searched for Mrs. Godfrey Reid for years. Seven, to be exact. This was the closest he’d ever gotten to his archenemy, and if he screwed it up now, all may be lost. As much as he wanted to protect Alice, he needed to stay and take care of the threat Godfrey posed. They also needed to monitor the unnatural phenomenon of Alice and Ivan’s baby. The only foreseeable solution was to bring Alice to them.

  “We’re bringing her and Eve here,” he said with quiet resolution.

  “Is it safe to fly her in her condition?”

  “We’ll get Bono to fly them in via helijet. I’ll make the arrangements.”

  Ivan nodded. His shoulders slumped.

  “Hang in there,” Cain said as much for himself as for Ivan. “We have to be strong for Alice.”

  All day, Olivia’s mind ran in circles. Who was the man who’d broken into her house? Why hadn’t he killed her? Why had he touched her in such an intimate way if not to rape her? Her first urge was to close every blind and shutter, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how unsettled she was. The better strategy was to surprise him. Lure him. That way, she could find out who he was and why he was after her. She’d double-checked all the doors and windows last night, as well as the alarm system. The cameras hadn’t recorded any pre
sence other than hers. She’d watched every tape dating back to a month. Somehow, he’d discovered the code and tricked the system.

  Asking for help from the police was futile. Men like the one from last night owned governments. Being married to Godfrey, she knew from experience. Her communication with Godfrey was a one-way street. She had no means of contacting her husband. He dialed her on the wrist pad whenever he needed to get hold of her. There was no redial or tracing functionality. Even if she wanted, she couldn’t ask for Godfrey’s protection. For how long had the man been watching her, sneaking around in her house while she was sleeping? A shiver contracted her skin. Her belly heated at the memory of his forbidden touch and how skillfully he’d brought her to orgasm. Anger replaced the heated memory, turning her cheeks hot with annoyance. He’d played on her insecurity, allowing her to believe it was the end. The psychological joke was cruel enough. He hadn’t needed to steal her physical defenses, too. Tonight, he wouldn’t catch her sleeping.

  She went about her night routine, dining on a salad before retiring to bed with a book. After switching off the light, she crawled from the bed to the floor and crouched low as she made her way downstairs. There were two doors with alarm pads––the front entrance and the backdoor in the kitchen. The backdoor faced a neighbor’s garden. A trespasser would have to stand in the spotlight shining from the neighbor’s porch, whereas the front door was hidden behind the dense creeper growing between the pillars of the front terrace. She chose the front door, huddling next to it with a kitchen knife, her only weapon. Since she’d tried to escape by pointing the gun she’d stolen from Godfrey on his guard, he’d removed every weapon from the house.

  An hour later, she couldn’t stay in the position, any longer. She rose quietly and stretched her aching muscles. After shaking her arms and legs to get the circulation flowing, she went back into position, counting each passing second. The task helped her to focus. She sat down on the floor, tilting her head back against the wall. Maybe he wasn’t coming, tonight. The time on the alarm pad said it was after midnight. The wind had picked up. The dark shapes of the palm trees swayed in front of the windows, throwing dancing shadows over the floor. The creeper on the terrace rustled. Bad weather. Maybe her stalker didn’t creep around in storms.

  She was about to abandon the wait when the doorknob moved. There was a brittle sound, like a heel crunching dry leaves. Adrenaline gushed though her veins, making her palms and the soles of her feet burn. She pushed to her feet and flattened her body against the wall. The alarm deactivated soundlessly. The electronic lock sprung free with a click, and the door swung open.

  Watching through the crack, she waited for the right moment. A tall, broad body appeared in the doorframe. For a few heartbeats, he stood still. It was him. There was little moonlight, but enough to recognize his face. He wore a white shirt and trousers and the same gloves from the night before. He splayed and fisted his fingers a couple of times before stepping inside and shutting the door. The lock activated automatically. She bit her lip to stop it from trembling and raised her arm, waiting. When he took the next step, she pounced, pressing the tip of the knife against his nape.

  “Don’t move.”

  He froze.

  While she had the advantage of surprise, she grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. “Don’t underestimate me. I can break it.”

  “I know you can.” He looked at her from over his shoulder. “The question is will you?”

  “On your knees,” she gritted out, pushing the knife harder.

  The sharp blade nicked his skin. A drop of blood stained the collar of his shirt. He went down wordlessly, still watching her. His stare made her feel naked, as if he could see right through her.

  “Face the front,” she said, jerking on his arm.

  When he’d obliged, she put her foot between his shoulder blades and pushed him down to the floor without breaking the contact of the knife on his neck.

  “One wrong twist and I slice an artery.”

  He turned his face to the side. “All right, Mrs. Reid. What now?”

  Was he mocking her? The bastard sounded amused. She straddled him, putting her full weight on his lower back. He grunted as she slammed her ass down on his pelvis harder than necessary. Tonight, she was in control.

  “Now, I want answers,” she said, “starting with who you are.”

  Silence.

  Fine. If he wanted to make this tough, that was how she’d play it. She pushed the knife another fraction deeper, leaving a small incision in the back of his neck. He didn’t make a peep.

  “A flick of my wrist and you’re paralyzed for life.”

  He twisted underneath her. One moment his face was pressed to the floor, and the next he was lying on his back, facing her squarely. She was no longer sitting on his back, but straddling his groin. He made no move to catch her or take away the knife. He only regarded her with a quiet light in his eyes, his hands lying motionless at his sides.

  “If it’s an introduction you want,” he said, “that can be arranged.” His grin was wicked. “Without a knife.”

  She pushed the knife against the hollow of his throat. “Your name.”

  “I’m no one you’d want to remember.”

  “All right. I’ll call you Asshole Stalker. What are you doing in my house, Mr. Stalker?”

  “Please, call me Asshole.”

  She gave him a cold smile. “Don’t think last night gives you the right of familiarity.”

  “Oh, I don’t. I won’t take any such thing for granted.”

  “Answer the question. Why are you here? If it’s to kill me, you should’ve done it last night, because tonight your life is mine.”

  “I thought last night would’ve made it clear that I’m not here to kill you.”

  “Then why are you sneaking around in my house?” Why had he touched her like he had?

  His smile was all patience, as if they were playing a game he enjoyed. “You don’t know?”

  “You’re one of my husband’s enemies.”

  “Correct.”

  “If you think you can blackmail him by taking me hostage, you’ll be sorely disappointed. My husband doesn’t do negotiations, not even for me.”

  “I’m not going to kidnap you.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Information.”

  “You won’t be the first to try. None has succeeded.”

  “Is that so?”

  He grabbed her so fast she didn’t have time for more than a bewildered cry. His fingers clamped around the wrist of the hand in which she held the knife and his free hand grabbed her hip, preventing her from scurrying away. He squeezed to the point of pain, until her fingers opened from their own accord and the knife clattered to the floor.

  “If you want to play rough,” he said, “you just have to say so.”

  She struggled in his grip. “Leave me the hell alone.”

  He didn’t even break into a sweat. Her fighting had no effect on him.

  “I will when you give me what I want,” he said.

  “What makes you think I have anything you want?”

  In a flash, he flipped her over, face-down, and pressed her wrists on the floor next to her head. He didn’t hesitate to take revenge by resting his weight on her ass, pushing her hips into the hard tile floor.

  “If you ever do something as stupid as attacking a man with nothing but a knife again,” he said, “I’ll personally punish you.”

  “Oh, yes? How was I supposed to do it?”

  “Get a gun. You’re strong for a woman, but you’re no match for a man my size. Next time, shoot in the leg. Preferably a kneecap. It’ll put your attacker out of action.”

  She twisted her head to look at him. “My mistake, but thanks for the tip. Next time, I’ll shoot your kneecap away.”

  “That’s better.” He grinned. “If you tell me where your husband keeps the six cells, there won’t have to be a next time.”

  Her stomach di
pped. She didn’t want there to be a next time, but the sting of disappointment surging through her was unmistakable. God, she was pathetic. So needy. Just because a man had pleased her with his hand for the first time in over ten years she wanted more? From a damn stalker who wanted information on her husband?

  Angrier at herself than him, she said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He narrowed his eyes and watched her closely. “You will give it up to me, Olivia.”

  “Are you deaf?”

  Shit, he was heavy. She moved under him to relieve her aching back. The movement rubbed her lower body against his. The act had been unintentional, but he reacted with a groan. His gaze darkened and the mark on his cheek seemed to flash an angry red. Just as quickly as their positions had been swapped, the atmosphere changed. The air turned thick and heavy. Her breathing picked up as he slowly lowered himself over her, putting their mouths a hairbreadth apart.

  His lips blew hot air over hers as he spoke. “No, I’m not deaf. Neither am I numb, so you better stop wiggling unless you want to get…” he gave her the same wicked smile from earlier, “familiar.”

  “Why did you touch me last night?” she uttered on a whisper. “Did you think I’d give you the information you want easier if you seduced me?”

  “I was distracting you.”

  “From what?”

  “So I could read your mind.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  His eyes gave her the answer.

  “Oh God.” She turned her face away. “Get off me.”

  To her surprise, he obliged. He released her wrists and moved aside, crouching next to her. “I’ll come back for you, night after night, day after day, until you tell me what I want to know.”

  “I don’t know,” she cried out, flipping over on her back.

  “Then you better find out, and fast, because,” his eyes trailed to the hard points of her breasts visible through her T-shirt, “we’re a hazard for each other.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  He chuckled. “I’d never be so vain, but I felt your wetness right through your jeans.”

  Her cheeks heated. “Get out of my house.”