Waking the Beast(10)

Grabbing the remote, she turned on the TV sitting on the dresser across from the bed and flipped through the local channels until she found one playing the news. No mention of a dead body with its throat ripped out, and she was pretty sure a story like that would be all over the news if Southy had been found.

She paced the room, leaving the television on to soothe her nerves, as she finally let her mind replay what had happened.

Utah had ripped free of chains. Chains for Christ’s sake. And she’d checked them when she’d released the cuffs from his wrists and ankles. They had been solid. His eyes had been pure gold and angry, so angry. He’d roared, and it had almost taken her back to a day from her past she didn’t want to revisit. But none of that compared to watching him grab Southy by the neck and fling him as if he were a rag doll.

Though Utah had been slightly turned from her, she swore she saw claws emerge from the tips of his fingers just before he ripped Southy’s throat out. But she’d held his hand several times, and there’d been no claws. She’d cleaned the blood off with her sweatshirt and found nothing but his hand, big and powerful, but with nothing more than close-cropped nails.

She shook her head. She’d have to let the memory go for now and focus on what she could prove or disprove. She’d taken a good look at the remaining needles, and she thought she knew what Harlan might have hit him in the chest with.

Adrenaline.

Why would Harlan give Utah a straight shot of adrenaline? It could have killed him. It should have.

She sat down on the edge of the bed. Oh, God. She’d been right. She clasped her shaking fingers together and placed them in her lap. Utah Pearce was the direct descendent of the Tau.

She snorted. How many times had she heard his buddies call that name out to him?

Hey, Tah. You coming?

Tah, catch.

Bet you can’t tap that, Tah.

The last one about a leggy brunette she knew damn well he’d taken home with him that night. The only thing that made her happy was that no matter how many times the woman came back around, Utah didn’t take her up on her offer again.
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Damn, Tah, she’s eating you up with her eyes.

She blushed as that comment went through her head. The guy had been talking about Abby. But Utah had just laughed it off and said she was probably looking off into space and he was just in the general direction. It’d hurt a bit to know he couldn’t even tell when she was looking at him. She’d been aware of every move he made. She’d been aware of the significance of them shortening his name from Utah to Tah. Who shortened a four letter name anyway? It was already short. But they had and there was power in that.

She rose from the bed again and decided to head back to the bathroom and the shower. She should wash her clothes out as well, at least her underclothes. She didn’t have anything else to wear now.

* * * *

Tah walked in to the sound of the shower shutting off. Part of him wished he’d made it back in time to step through the door and see if she’d let him join her. But he knew she wouldn’t. Abby wasn’t the type. She was a lot more naive than the women he normally hooked up with for a night. They knew the score whether they tried to make him think differently after the fact or not. He made sure they got off, several times, before he took his, and then he moved on.

He’d never felt the need for anything more. Until Abby. She might think he’d been unaware of her in that bar, but he knew every move she’d made while she’d been there. He swore she’d awoken some primitive caveman hidden deep inside him. He’d warned the other men to leave her the hell alone, and still, he’d sat back and watched, waited. He’d gone out of his way to appear to ignore her when all he’d really wanted to do was preen and posture in front of her, demanding she keep her eyes on him and only him.

He’d taken women home and gotten them off. But since Abby, he’d been unable to get off, unless she was the one filling his head, which made it damn hard to fuck another woman. No woman had ever gotten under his skin like this, and it was inconvenient to say the least.

He sat the food on the table and double checked the locks on the door, grabbing one of the chairs and lodging it under the doorknob before pacing the room. It was like he couldn’t sit still, like there was a caged beast inside him gnawing at his control. What the hell was going on? He needed answers, and he needed them yesterday.

The door opened and Abby stepped through the steam, wearing the thick motel robe. She was still using a towel on her hair, her glasses perched on that cute upturned nose of hers. She looked like a fairy, like a fantasy, and his blood filled his cock as need tore through him.