Telepathic Cravings Read online

  Telepathic Cravings

  A Federation under siege. A Counter-Terrorism Department overworked. Paranormal abilities outlawed. But when no one suspects what you can do, criminal Voices Carry. Called by lust and longing, three telepaths risk their lives to put their skills to work for the Federation Counter-Terrorism Department.

  VOICES CARRY

  When a criminal organization stealing secrets jeopardizes her boss’ life, secret telempath Shana Adams risks everything to uncover the truth and save Marcus. Draws into a dangerous web of passion and suspicion, she’ll offer Marcus more than her body to survive.

  LOST IN EMOTION

  Alien Gorgons, Federation enemies? No contest. Telemphatic anti-terrorist agent David Adams can fight anything. Anything, that is, but his feelings for Genoa, the sassy, sexy spy he’s been charged with protecting.

  HARD HABIT TO BREAK

  Once a powerful paranormal, psychically crippled Drug Enforcement office, Nolete Ashford has rebuilt her life from ashes. Now she’s on a mission to stop a drug that is killing paranormals. Nothing to it, no problem-until she’s assigned to work with Drake, the one man she could never forget.

  Telepathic Cravings

  Melissa Schroeder

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Telepathic Cravings, second edition

  Copyright © 2013 by Melissa Schroeder

  Cover by Scott Carpenter

  Formatting by Heather Long

  Kindle Edition

  ISBN: 978-1-939734-01-3

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Second Electronic Publication: March 2013

  Dedication

  To Ali Flores

  For your laughter, your dedication to the romance genre,

  and your constant support. I have always treasured your friendship, hun. You are truly as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside…which makes you stunning.

  Love,

  Mel

  VOICES CARRY

  by

  Melissa Schroeder

  Chapter 1

  I bet she tastes as sweet as sin on a cyberstick.

  Shana Adams stopped in mid-sentence when the thought sparked across her mind. Any ideas she had scattered, as she cautiously looked around at the six department heads seated at the titanium-glass conference table. They sat patiently, waiting for her to continue her briefing.

  Since she had ignored her ability for so long, it was impossible to pinpoint who’d thought it. Schooling her features, she looked down at her handheld micropad and silently berated herself. Memories of her mother’s soft, patient voice drifted through her mind. Shana used the mental exercises her mother had taught her to block the intrusive thoughts. After a couple moments, the only thing that remained was a slight tugging on her senses. She cleared her throat and continued.

  “One thing we’ve learned from our investigations is that Gorgons aren’t the source of this new terrorism here on Earth.”

  “And what makes you think your assumptions are correct?” Marcus Carlyle was the head of the Federation’s Counterterrorism Unit and the bane of her existence. He sat at the head of the table, directly opposite from her, dressed in his usual custom-made, Martian-blue suit.

  He studied her calmly, waiting for her to take the bait. She knew that tone of voice too well. Since he’d hired her eighteen months ago, the man had constantly questioned her reports.

  “It’s not an assumption, sir. The Gorgons have lost most of their backing since they pulled that stunt in LA last December and killed civilians. They lied to some well-meaning souls from Rilah and convinced them to donate to their cause. Their supporters thought they were supporting a legal battle between the Gorgons and the Federation. Even some of their most strident supporters have deserted them. Without financial support, their legion is dissolving. Many of their mercs have scattered across several different planets.”

  She pressed the ‘send file’ button on her pad. Her report materialized before each man, via his own micropad.

  “No, this new threat operates with no visible means of outside support. There’s no group of planets behind the threats. The chatter has risen in the last few months, so we’re worried there is something planned. But at this point, we have no idea what.”

  Carlyle studied her as if she were a mouse and he were a tomcat ready to pounce. She took a deep breath and willed herself not to break eye contact. His dark green eyes, flecked with golden brown, dared her to flinch.

  Why did her nipples harden each time he looked at her like that? She should hate it. And she did. Really.

  “After all this time, you still have no idea where they might strike, Ms. Adams?”

  His voice was filled with mocking sarcasm. She didn’t say a word for several moments as she counted back from ten, then did it a second time. Someone’s chair squeaked, and several of the men cleared their throats. She didn’t balk or acknowledge the insolent smile curving Carlyle’s lips.

  Lips she would dearly love to taste.

  She jerked her mind back from that thought. She would not fantasize about him. Again. It was a meeting, a highly classified one at that, and they were discussing the new threat to the seven sectors that comprised the Federation of Nations. It didn’t matter that his short black hair, threaded with a touch of gray, begged her to run her fingers through it. She didn’t like his dominant, sculpted cheekbones or his crooked nose. Most women would yearn to run their hands over every sculpted, muscular inch of his six-foot, three-inch body. But she wouldn’t think about how warm his skin would feel. Or about having his long, tapered fingers brush against her nipples.

  Dammit!

  She took a deep breath and ignored the fact his gaze dipped to her breasts then refocused on her face.

  “It’s actually harder to figure out what they’re planning, because we don’t know who supports them. If we knew—as we did with the Gorgons—who wanted our resources, we would have a better assessment. Of course, you know as well as I that I evaluate the data collected by the Federation of Nations’ various intelligence groups. The chatter has been rising over the last few months. I believe this attack may be planned for New Year’s Eve. With the year being 2099, these new terrorists probably believe carrying out an attack would be easier and the impact greater that night. The security forces will be stretched thin because of the celebrations.”

  Carlyle raised an eyebrow; the corner of his lips lifted more. “Any questions for Ms. Adams?” he asked, not taking his eyes off her. She refused to fidget.

  A barrage of negative responses came from the other five gentlemen. She sighed, relieved to be finished. She hated these highly classified meetings. Yet, the Federation stayed only a few steps ahead of the people who hacked into their systems. So being there in person eliminated one access spies had to her reports. She turned off her micropad and was within five seconds of a clean getaway when Carlyle stopped her.

  “I would like to see you in my office after lunch, Ms. Adams.”

  His deep voice shimmied down her spine. She plastered on the fakest smile she possessed. “Of course, Mr. Carlyle. Shana Adams, authorize.”

  The silver door slid open, and she walked through the doorway, using every ounce
of her willpower not to stick out her middle finger as the door slid closed behind her.

  She walked down the myriad of hallways that led to her workstation. Before she entered the office that led to her cubicle, her retina was scanned for security. Irritated with her reaction to Carlyle, Shana avoided well-meaning co-workers and just smiled and nodded as she walked.

  After reaching the solitude of her cubicle, the earlier breach plagued her thoughts. Telepathic from birth, she had learned to control it. She hadn’t had a slip like that since adolescence.

  She glanced at the hologram of her and her brother, David. Born only ten months apart, they grew up as close as some twins. The secret of their powers—something their parents had kept hidden for all of their lives—made them even closer. People with telepathic powers weren’t allowed to work in government. Hell, they weren’t even allowed to have normal lives. Ever since Ripley Johnson had led a revolt in the late forties with a group of paras who had used their skills to help him, the Federation had cracked down on anyone with the ability. Many had seen what Johnson had done as treason, and had grouped all paras along with him and his followers. Any paras discovered spent their lives in think tanks or research labs, at the mercy of scientists. It was the Federation’s way of dealing with people like her, keeping them under control, so to speak.

  And Marcus’ family had been instrumental in breaking up the rebellion. It was well known within the company that Marcus had an immense hatred of paras. He saw them all as traitors and killers.

  Shana sighed and rubbed her temple. Her skills as an expert on terrorism were useless outside of government, at least on Earth. She didn’t want to be separated from her family. She needed to call David and find out what the hell was going on with her. A slip like that could lose her her job. And commit her to a lifetime of torture. She shivered.

  But the thing foremost in her mind was the question of just who had been thinking about how she tasted.

  Chapter 2

  Marcus allowed the conversation of his department heads to carry on as his mind drifted to Ms. Adams, dressed in her usual smart pantsuit. Shana. All he could think of was licking her from top to bottom like his favorite treat, melon cybersticks. He’d known when he hired her eighteen months ago it would be a mistake. During the interview, he’d had the almost overwhelming urge to peel off her little suit and bury his cock deep inside of her. He yearned to capture her cries as she orgasmed.

  “Marcus?”

  He looked up and flushed. Everyone studied him expectantly. Jesus, he had to get his mind off Ms. Adams and her cute little body. And the way the microfabric had molded to her every curve—especially her full, rounded breasts. Heat singed a path to his dick. He shifted to relieve the pressure in his balls.

  “Yes, John.”

  John Marrow’s cool blue eyes sparkled. His right-hand man and best friend, knew exactly where his mind had been. “I said the security breach doesn’t seem to be very bad, but we have people checking it out.”

  Shit. What the hell had they been talking about while he daydreamed about licking every inch of Ms. Adams’ luscious skin? “When will you finish your assessment?”

  “Tomorrow. Friday at the latest.”

  The meeting broke up five minutes later. John followed Marcus back to his office. He dreaded the shit John would give him over this.

  “You know, boss, you need to pay more attention during the meetings you have. Sitting there lusting over one of your workers—it’s pretty sad.”

  He tried to ignore John’s mocking voice. There had been a friendly rivalry between them since they met in college. Only an inch shorter than Marcus, John wasn’t as menacing with his blue eyes, blond hair, and pretty-boy face. John got most of the women, which was fine by Marcus, most of the time. Women expected more time than Marcus could give. Building his company, staying at the top of the heap of security firms vying for government contracts—that was what consumed his time.

  “Really, John, you have an overactive imagination. Probably why you’ve been married three times.”

  John snorted. “Listen, it’s not as if I think that little woman isn’t hot, but you’re not the type to poach the goods at work.”

  Anger sparked through Marcus, but he took a calming breath. Shoving his fist down the throat of his second-in-command because he referred to Shana as ‘hot’ wouldn’t look good.

  John continued to chatter on about his upcoming weekend plans. Once they arrived at Marcus’ office door, Marcus said, “Marcus Carlyle, authorize.”

  The doors slid open noiselessly and shut after they passed through them.

  “Welcome, Mr. Carlyle. You have no appointments until one,” the sultry voice of his computer assistant said. “You have three new messages.”

  “Thank you, computer.” Marcus dropped behind his steel desk, keyed in his security code for the classified file drawer, and stored his micropad. He straightened the desktop, placing everything on it in just the right place.

  “Want to grab a bite to eat?” John asked.

  “No, I have to read over some reports, and then I have a meeting at one with Ms. Adams. I’m going to order in.”

  John chuckled knowingly. “Yeah, and you can’t be caught unprepared for a meeting with her. Just be careful. Remember what happened to the woman who last held that position.”

  “I lost her to Jensen Securities when she caught you fucking Jane Denton on your desk. You should never work with any of your wives, John.”

  “Anyway, why are you worried about the reports? I already told you there wasn’t anything to lose sleep over.”

  Yes there was, but Marcus didn’t share his thoughts with people freely. He liked to sort through everything first, and then share what he thought was important. That way, information wouldn’t inadvertently appear in any e-paper or e-zine before he was ready for it to.

  “I just want to check everything out, make sure we haven’t missed anything.”

  “Of course, Marcus. I understand.”

  Irritation crept up his spine. He hated it when John used that tone of voice with him.

  “What the hell do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing.” John’s smile inched higher, and so did Marcus’ frustration. “I know you just like to make sure you filter everything before we see it. You know, like when Carlyle Securities was up for this contract the first time around and you didn’t even tell me.”

  “If anything had gotten out to the press, it would have ruined the deal. That’s my job, John. You know, owner of the company and all that. Besides, I have to. Just to make sure nothing gets out before it should.”

  “What’s this meeting with Ms. Adams about?”

  The knot tightened in his stomach. “I want more info on that Gorgon situation.” A weak lie, but it was all he could come up with.

  “Whatever you say, boss. Just remember, I warned you.”

  With that statement, John sauntered out of the room. Once alone, Marcus looked over the quarterly reports from Shana. Every report was perfect, not a number out of place. And there was nothing in them to raise suspicions. He needed her help in this. Someone very smart had breached their security and might have found the names of some of their operatives in the Deros Sector.

  Contrary to John’s thoughts, they had a problem because some of these agents were in deep cover. Their lives were in jeopardy and the Federation still hadn’t reached several of them. Whoever had breached their security had to have help from the inside. If he didn’t clean this up, he could lose the contract Carlyle Security had held to run the Department of Counterterrorism for the past five years. Far worse, operatives would surely die.

  Yes, he needed her insight on this. Shana Adams was the top in her field, and though he gave her a hard time, her analyses and observations were usually dead-on. Despite his reservations when he interviewed her, there was one thing he knew he had the moment he hired her—her loyalty.

  Trust didn’t come easily for him. In his profession, trusting the
wrong person could be deadly. Being raised by a father who ran black ops for the Federation didn’t help, either. The Carlyle family had always worked for the government in some capacity. His own grandfather had died in the battle with Ripley Johnson and his para rebels. Fredrick Carlyle made the mistake of trusting Ripley, trained him, and was ultimately shot in the back by him. Marcus’ father constantly reminded him of both the sacrifice and the mistake his grandfather had made.

  Discipline had been highly praised and rewarded in his home. Never trust without proof of allegiance. It had been his father’s favorite saying. Yet, something in his gut told him that he could trust Shana.

  Truthfully, he’d had legitimate reasons not to hire her. She was a top-notch terrorism analyst, and had worked her way through the government, but she also had been known to speak her mind, not caring whose toes she stepped on. He had the bruises on his own toes to prove it.

  Her appearance was the main problem. She wore her dark hair pixie short, emphasizing her high cheekbones and luminous topaz eyes and those full, pink lips. She looked more like a water sprite from Neptune than a terrorism expert. Although she wasn’t out in the field, he usually liked to have his analysts in top shape. Most of the men and women in his department were lean, muscular, and physically capable of handling themselves in the field when the situation was called for. Shana was not only petite, but also far from lean. He’d hired her because she had a sharp mind, and she’d turned out to be his top analyst. He just couldn’t keep his mind off all her curves.

  The image of her dressed in her little red pantsuit rose to mock him. Every fiber of the material had clung to her breasts. She looked like she wasn’t wearing breast cups or panties. He thought of peeling off that material and gliding his hands over her soft skin, taking her nipples into his mouth, moving down her belly, tasting her between her lips…