WYND TEMPTRESS from Elemental Desires a SF Anthology
Chapter One

Adam Wydner would have recognized Jezermiah Cameron, a.k.a. Jesse Calhoun, self-elected mayor of Chinook, even without the detailed information he had been given to locate her. Purple eyes were as rare in 2150 as fuel-injected engines. Even from this distance of twenty-five feet, her eyes were clear and bright against a mass of the blackest hair he had ever seen on such a fair-skinned woman. She was an unusual mix in every way, down to the fragile build that graced her tall frame.

He focused in on her, blocking out all other stimuli.

She was ordering around a group of muscle-bound males who looked intent on doing damage to anyone who crossed her. And yet, the merest of breezes looked sufficient to whisk her away. Although that was impossible, since she was the wind. The wind to her two sisters’ fire and water. All believed to be level five psychics.

Until now he hadn’t understood why he was called out of retirement for this mission.

Now, in his mind, there was no question.

She was his.

The conviction wrapped around him and settled within his soul like a long awaited homecoming. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. The slender column of her throat disappeared under a flannel chambray shirt that looked two sizes too big for her, and the heavy work pants she wore did nothing to hide the delicate curve of her hips. He could feel her intensity.

As he sat in his parked skimmer watching her, he concentrated his gaze on the graceful hollow where throat met collarbone, wishing he could press his lips to the translucent skin. He watched her fidget. While she issued instructions, her slim fingers stroked her neck, and she gave a furtive glance around before returning her attention to her men.

It pleased him that she could sense him. That is, she sensed something. She wouldn’t yet know that she belonged to him.

And he suspected that convincing her would be considerably harder than the mission itself. His groin stirred at the suggestion of how he would accomplish that.

At first he had hoped to be assigned to kidnap the one who was fire, which sent his imagination into overdrive with images of what her name might imply. But looking now at the oldest of the sisters made him change his mind. The heat simmering within him as he studied her would prove enough for them both.

As he continued to watch her, he invaded her mind, planting a thought. You will come to me.

He paused a moment longer before he started his skimmer and drove past the row of vehicles lined along the wooden planked sidewalk until he came to the end. He pulled into the last space and cut the power. The sleek vehicle hummed to stillness.

As usual, when he stepped out he felt embraced in a time warp. After the successful global rebellion fifty years ago, few towns had escaped unscathed and this small town in Alaska was no exception. But while the major cities had been completely destroyed, other more isolated regions like this had enough intact to start up again.

Satellite dishes stood tall in the distance, but the hard-packed mud street he walked on held only traces of the smooth white stone for which Alaskan streets had been famous. With a plentitude of oil at its disposal, the fiberglass-kinetic material was developed by Alaska in 2100 and had been imported worldwide.

The planked sidewalks and log storefronts that now graced main street made the town look like a two-hundred-year-old western starring John Wayne and was a necessary result of a sector that cherished its autonomy. The newly self-proclaimed nation of Alaska had no intention of being dependent on anything it couldn’t produce or mine itself, like brick or stone, but it had plenty of trees.

And water and space—even oil, if things got really desperate. Which was the problem. The newly formed League of World Government Sectors needed Alaska to join them. They needed its resources to help rebuild the rest of the North American continent. And if Alaska stubbornly refused to do so, it might encourage other rebellious sectors to follow suit.

To be fair, Alaska wasn’t the only government looking to take a break from a unified anything.

He half-agreed with them. He understood their caution. Which is why he had wondered why Shannon Riedel, the Psychic Sensory Investigations Agency Director, wanted only him and no others on this mission to determine Jezermiah’s intentions and her level of psychic abilities. When his long-term friend and mentor had insisted that he held the key to Jezermiah’s cooperation, he had trusted her too much to question. Whatever the reason, she would reveal it in time.

The tall, lithe goddess was now standing with her hands on her small hips and ordering a group of her lackeys to haul every bench they could find into the meeting hall as the streets and sidewalks continued to teem with people.

She grabbed a tangle of her long thick hair with one hand and was threading it through a cloth tie as Adam approached the door to the hall. He would hardly draw attention today since strangers from all over gathered for the first meeting to discuss California’s water needs and how Alaska could benefit by trading its water for food.

His boots clicked along the wooden sidewalk. He lowered the wide brim of his black hat, planning to slip right past her, when she turned suddenly and faced him dead on. For the briefest of seconds her eyes flared and then turned impassive again. She gave a generic nod of acknowledgement, about to face her men, when she fixed her gaze on him again.

There was no way she could have recognized him from anywhere. Unless, of course, it was true that she was a psychic of the highest level. His blood warmed at the thought of colliding with a beauty so powerful. As powerful as him.

"Who are you?" She blinked her thick lashes and seemed startled by her own question.

Had she felt him transferring his desire to her? He withdrew the transfer lest she grow wary of him.

"That is," she shifted her weight, "are you here representing some special interest group? You look familiar."

She had a husky voice so at odds with her feminine stature. But one that fit with her tough stance.

If he lied, she would know it. He carefully blocked any thoughts of his purpose or the lustful ideas running rampant in his system.

"We have never met, ma’am." He tipped his hat. "My name’s Adam Wydner." He stepped forward and extended his hand.

She nodded. "Jesse Calhoun."

As soon as he got within a foot of her, the aura surrounding her nearly knocked him flat. His body was like a magnet drawn to its polar opposite. Her scent filled him with a rich mixture of female musk and lilac. The urge to touch her was powerful. He stuffed down his reaction lest she sense it, reeling himself with the strong sensation.

Damned if he didn’t feel an erection stirring in his coarse denim pants as he gazed down into her face. If he didn’t rein in his lust for her it was bound to be noticed.

She seemed hesitant to take his hand. She licked her lips and took a little breath. Then, business-like again, she extended her hand. "Mr. Wydner," she said with a curt nod.

When their fingers touched, his body lit like a torch.

He forced himself not to squeeze her small hand in a fierce grip, willing himself instead to break the contact. But he couldn’t seem to do it. He was sure his expression showed no sign of his inner turmoil, but his pulse was beating at a frantic pace and he could feel the head of his cock sliding down his thigh. It was as though she had cast a spell on him even though he knew better. He should have been prepared after all these years. It was bound to happen that fate would one day deliver his soul mate.

He forced a smile and slid his fingers along her palm in an effort to let go of her, but it didn’t come easy. A small gust of wind kicked up through the wooden slats beneath their feet, stirring up dust. Was she warning him off? He mentally berated himself—she was a psychic, not a witch. If she chose to use her power over wind, she could do better than that.

He finally broke contact. She looked a little stunned and stepped back as soon as he released her. Her bodyguards formed a protective circle around her.

Barely two seconds in her presence and he had almost blown his cover. Pretending that he hadn’t noticed the cavalry forming, he gave a nod. "Well, ma’am, I’ll just grab a space in there before it gets too crowded."

His quick exit saved him from answering her other question about whether he represented a special interest group. If she guessed he was here for the PSI Agency she’d bolt. It had taken them years to find her. It had taken him a lifetime.