Megan's Mark

"Don't push me to that. I wouldn't like myself much for it, and I'm certain you would come to regret it. So in the interest of maintaining both our boundaries, use caution."

He was serious. She stared back at him with a hint of incredulity and wariness.

"Why?'" she finally whispered. "Why do you care how you get what you want?" No other man she had ever known had cared.

His lips tilted with a hint of gentleness and a sensuality that sent flares of response racing through her.

"Because that beautiful body isn't all I want, baby," he answered cryptically. "Not by a long shot. I want everything. Think about that before you push the wrong buttons and tempt something you have no chance of controlling."

Chapter Seven

Megan moved down the staircase that evening after her shower. Everything felt off balance. Her emotions were in chaos, her physical responses confusing. Her reactions to Braden Arness had thrown her so off kilter that she wasn't certain what to feel at the moment.

After the Academy, and the disastrous results of training exercises, she had shut herself off, retreated to the desert and put aside the dream of making a difference within the world.

She had spent five years training to work in law enforcement, the first two in pre-Selection where candidates were put through rigorous classes involving legal code. The last three had been spent in the Academy after the selection process, the final year in real-situation training exercises.

The last training mission had been a hostage situation. The emotions

pouring from the young woman being held by her drug-dealer husband had nearly incapacitated her, and caused an officer to be wounded. Her inability to focus on the perpetrator and his victim, rather than the emotions and the pain pouring through her, had nearly been fatal.

The Empathic abilities had shown up in her late teens. Her inability to form the barriers that others began building as children had been her downfall. She had stubbornly refused to give up her dream though. Forcing herself through pre-Selection and the Academy, right to the very moment that she knew without a doubt that the dream was over.

Megan moved into the kitchen, heading for the coffeepot despite the lateness of the hour, and tried to ignore Braden as he sat at the table with his laptop. He had been working there for hours, low growls coming from his chest as his irritation seemed to build.

The arousal was only growing as well. Unfortunately, finding release on her own was something she wasn't ready to tempt. Braden had been tenser since their confrontation in the Raider earlier; edgier, more aroused. That hunger was something she wasn't quite ready to confront.

"About time you came back down," he muttered as his fingers moved over the keyboard. "It's time we get to work."

She turned away from him, lifting a cup from the cabinet before pouring the dark coffee into it.

"What do you call what we were doing all day?" Every muscle in her body was protesting the workout. She could have sworn that rock climbing and cavern investigating was work. But hell, what did she know?

"Come here and sit down." He moved from the chair, making room for her as she moved around the table. "I pulled up the Breed database. Every Breed the Lab had information on, and some they didn't, is listed here. I have Mark and Aimee's files pulled along with their pictures. Go over them, see if you recognize them, or if you can recall any point that you may have been in contact with them."

She sat down in his chair hesitantly, her gaze flickering to the file pulled up on the screen.

"These pictures were taken while Mark and Aimee were still in the Labs," she whispered, seeing the nudity of Aimee's upper-body shot, as well as her disinterest in herself and her surroundings. "I've seen a few of the Breed files at the Academy. They didn't allow them to wear clothing."

She looked up, watching as Braden pulled sandwiches from the refrigerator and poured himself another cup of coffee.

"We weren't human, so why did we need clothing," he grunted as he moved around the kitchen, fixing more coffee as he snacked on the food.

He ate a lot; dinner had been finished an hour before and she was sure he had eaten enough for three grown men.

She turned her attention back to the laptop and the two files he had pulled up for her.

Breathing out wearily, she pushed her hair back from her face, wishing now that she had taken the time to braid it before coming down from her shower. The thick mass never failed to slip over her shoulder. It also had the effect of making her feel softer, more feminine, when it was loose and unbound. It was a weakness she couldn't afford right now. The attraction burning between them wasn't dimming; it was only growing stronger. She needed something to douse it, not strengthen her inability to run from it.

"Mark and Aimee were created in France." He sat across from her. "To the best of my knowledge, they had never been in the States until a year ago, when they were rescued and relocated to the Breed Compound in Virginia.

There are no records of any overseas missions. Just as there are no records of any trips you could have made out of the States."

There was a definite question in his voice.

Megan lifted her gaze from the computer screen and met his evenly.

"I've never been out of the States, Braden." She let a smile of amusement tug at her lips. It was obviously not the answer he wanted to hear. "And to my knowledge, I've never met these Breeds."

But they were familiar.

She turned back to the photos, wanting to frown at the odd prickling of recognition, but aware of how closely he was watching her.

"Why did you come back here after training at the Academy?"

"Didn't we go over this earlier?" she protested, swallowing past the lump of nervousness in her throat.

"You had excellent marks until your final training mission where your instructor was injured. After that you resigned, packed up and came home, despite several very lucrative offers from both public and private sectors."

She leaned back in her chair, refusing to look at him as she felt the demand filling the air. He deserved the truth.

He was working with her and that put him in danger. He needed to know that.

"It's complicated," she finally sighed.

"I'm a smart guy." He seemed to bite the words out. "I'm sure I'll follow along just fine."

She looked at him then, catching the glittering suspicion in his eyes as he watched her.

"It has nothing to do with these Breeds," she finally answered, flicking the fingers of one hand toward the laptop. "It's a personal issue, Braden."

"Not any longer, Megan." He sat his cup down, leaning forward as he braced his hands on the top of the table and crowded over her. "My people are dying in this desert. Mark and Aimee left Sanctuary and drove straight here, into a trap, in a section of the desert patrolled by you. A search of their computer files showed that they had done a search on you before leaving. They were coming here to find you. Somehow the Council learned of it and sent those Coyotes to kill them and you, using their bodies to draw you in. Why?"

Guilt slammed through her. She jumped from her chair, facing him squarely now. She fisted her hands to keep them from shaking as she blinked back the moisture in her eyes. She didn't want him to see her for the failure she was. Unable to control her own abilities, a liability to anyone who fought beside her.

"Answer me, Megan." He caught her again, this time his grip tight enough on her upper arm to ensure she wasn't going anywhere, while careful to leave no marks.

The Academy had been five years of hell. She excelled because the strenuous work required complete focus. During training, she had gained some relief from the stress, the fears and the often volatile personalities who had come together in one area. It had amazed her, the number of the recruits who were there simply to act out the violence that raged inside them.

"Tell me why you're hiding. What did you see, Megan? Why are you cowering in this damned desert like a child afraid of the dark?"

"Because I am scared of the dark." She raged, her control breaking. Tears filled her eyes as she stared up at him, trembling, terrified that he could be right. That she had possibly seen something, felt or sensed something that she was unaware of. Or worse, that she had ignored something that had caused those deaths, that somehow she could have prevented the violence.

"Let me go." She pulled out of his grip, refusing to meet his gaze as she turned her back on him and swiped at the tear that escaped her control and fell from her eyes. "I'm an Empath, Braden." She fought the pain welling inside her, the dreams she had run from in the face of reality. "I

hide in this fucking desert because it's quiet. Because there's no one around me for miles; no emotions, no fears or rage to batter at my damned head. Because I can function here." Her throat tightened at the admission.

Megan pushed her fingers in her hair, clenching at the strands as she fought for control amid the chaotic emotions raging inside her now. These were her emotions, her fears, and they were just as debilitating as the talent that allowed her to feel others.

"Empath?" his voice was thoughtful now, the anger of moments ago now throttled.

"I can't stand crowds, period. I can barely function here, in the town I've lived in all my life. Until you, I've never been around another human being I could tolerate for longer than a few hours at a time." She turned back to him, her own anger tightening her body as she fought demons she knew she could never win against. "I was in my late teens before it began developing; I couldn't hide it. Most Empaths develop sooner, at a time when it's possible for their brains to create the necessary shields to protect them. It didn't happen that way for me. I'm helpless against the influx of emotions and latent violence most human beings harbor. I can't protect myself from it. I thought I could make it in the Academy." She shook her head wearily, the guilt eating her alive. "It was my dream and I was determined to have it until I was nearly the cause of my

instructor's death during our last training exercise. After that_" She breathed in harshly, wrapping her arms around herself and fighting back the pain. "After that, I just came home. Lance gave me a job with the sheriff's department and I tried to content myself with it."

Megan turned away from him, unable to risk staring into his eyes, perhaps seeing the condemnation she always felt she deserved.

"Then why join the Law Enforcement Academy to begin with?" he asked quietly.

"Because I was stupid." Her laugh was filled with bitter mockery. "I was stubborn, so stubborn, and too young to understand what I was getting myself into. That was my dream, and in my selfishness, I was determined to have it.

My barriers are strong enough to protect me if others are careful to tone down their emotions, which my friends and family had always done. The real world_" She breathed out heavily as she pushed her fingers through her hair, feeling once again the guilt she had never forgotten. "I found out how ill prepared I really was."

"But it's absent with me?" She felt him move closer. "Why?"

"The hell if I know." She turned back, surprised to find his chest no more than a few inches from her. God, how she wanted to lean against him.

"There's a calm around you, some sort of natural barrier that, if I'm close enough, I can draw from." She shook her head in confusion.

He was silent, watching her intently. His eyes darkened to the color of old gold and began to glitter with heat.

"I'm not scared," she bit out. the bitterness that lived inside rising like a demon intent on destroying her.

"I want to live. I want to fight, and by God I want to kick ass as much as anyone I've ever known. I dreamed of being part of the Breed rescues and had to back out of the program when recruits were chosen for the task force. I could be working anywhere, everywhere. But I'm a danger; not just to myself but also to anyone working with me. I can't take that risk."