Destiny Kills (Myth and Magic 1)

I met his gaze steadily. Saw the wariness sharpening into suspicion. “What are you implying?”

But even as I asked the question, I knew. It was the only logical explanation for them constantly finding us.

“You probably have a bug in you somewhere,” he said, saying aloud what was going through my brain. “Do you have any odd scars on your body? Scars you have no memory of getting?”

“Everywhere. They used to knock us out and take little—or not so little—samples.”

“Bastards.” He shook his head, and anger swirled around me, heating my skin as sharply as flame. “Is there any particular scar that strikes you as odd?”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know—slightly darker, more raised than others.” He shrugged. “Anything like that could be a clue to location.”

“I haven’t noticed anything, but then, we’ve pretty much been on the run since we escaped. There hasn’t been much time to scratch, let alone notice, strange scars.” I ate some chips, then said, “Trackers are a reasonable size, aren’t they? Why wouldn’t I be feeling one if I have it in my body?”

He grinned. “Micro- and nanotechnology are now the in-thing. It could be something the size of a pin-head, and you’d never guess it was there.”

“Then how are we going to find it?”

“Simple. We look.” He hesitated, and the grin that split his lips went way beyond sexy. “Which means, of course, that you have to strip.”

“I’m only wearing a T-shirt, so that’s hardly a hassle.” I grabbed the thing and pulled it over my head. My shoulder twinged, a sharp reminder that it wasn’t as healed as I thought it was. “Now what?”

“You really don’t have a modesty problem, do you?” he said, his grin stretching as his gaze skated down my body.

“No, because we were all kept naked at the foundation, and modesty tends to die after a while.” I raised an eyebrow, amusement teasing my lips. “Is the lack of it a problem for you?”

“I don’t think it could be a problem for any man with hormones and common sense.” He turned on the kitchen light. “Come over here, where I can see better.”

I grabbed a few more chips, then walked across to the kitchen counter. Trae took my left arm, moving it into the light as his fingers gently probed and caressed my flesh. My skin tingled in response, and heat flushed through my body. If he noticed my reaction, he didn’t respond, his gaze narrowed and concentration almost fierce. He dropped my left arm, then grabbed my right and repeated the process. I closed my eyes, delighting in the soft sensation of his touch, enjoying his closeness and the warm spicy scent emanating from him.

“Nothing there,” he said, after a while. “Turn around and I’ll check your back.”

I did, and he did, his soft caress inching over my shoulders then down my spine, the warmth of his fingers searing past the leathery skin of my dragon stain and sending little waves of pleasure racing through the rest of me. This, I decided, was nothing short of torture. I mean, it was one thing to have a delicious man run his warm fingertips all over my flesh, but to have it go no further than that? To have him concentrating on finding something other than the ultimate pleasure for us both? Torture of the highest degree.

“Still nothing,” he said, his voice sounding completely normal. Like he was watching some totally boring TV program rather than standing in front of the naked woman he professed to desire.

Either the man had abnormal control over his hormones, or he was all talk and no action.

“Lift a foot, so I can check it.”

“My feet?” I held up one hoof for inspection. “Wouldn’t I feel something imbedded in my feet?”

“Not if it’s tiny.” His fingers began to probe my heel and arch. “Man, yo

u were right about the thickness of your feet. I gather they didn’t give you shoes, either.”

“It was all part of their keeping us cold and uncomfortable philosophy.”

His fingers had stopped roaming, and he was pinching a small section of flesh in the center of my arch.

I twisted around to look at him. His face was a picture of concentration, and part of me was disappointed. I mean, the man could at least look a little distracted, for heaven’s sake. “You found something?”

“I think so.” He released my foot for a moment and reached into his pocket to retrieve his Swiss Army knife. “Tell me about the kids to distract yourself.”

Yeah, like that was going to work when he was sticking a bit of metal into my flesh. Now, had it been flesh sliding into flesh . . . I gave a mental sigh, and tried to remember what his question had been.

“There were six of them, as I said. Carli was the youngest, and she’s the sweetest little girl you could ever meet.”