Legend of Michael Read Online Free PDF

actions for money and security. Who hated him because he dared to shake up her perfect little world. Nor was he like Adam who killed for amusement. Michael had devoted himself to saving lives, and sometimes that meant taking lives. The GTECH serum had nothing to do with his choices, or Caleb’s, for that matter. Caleb and Michael were not X2 positive. Adam was.
    And it meant nothing that Michael and Adam had both developed special gifts—his own ability to communicate with the wind and Adam’s to communication with the wolves. Michael balled his fists at his sides. He wasn’t like Adam, damn it. But you aren’t like Caleb either , the wind seemed to whisper back. In that moment, without any conscious decision to do so, Michael faded into the wind. More and more, it seemed to communicate with him, almost speak to him. And it knew where he wanted to go. It knew he needed an escape, to pretend he was still human—when sometimes he wondered if he had ever really been human.
    ***
    An hour and a half later, Michael leaned against the back wall of Vegas’s version of Coyote Ugly, known for loud music and hot women in Daisy Dukes and cowboy boots, several of whom were dancing on the bar above the rows of tables.
    He had no idea why he was still here, pretending to watch the dancers, why he hadn’t done his normal post-mission roundup of a woman—or two or three—and already gone and buried himself, and the hell of his mission, in their many pleasures. Or why he had to keep talking himself out of going to see Cassandra when he knew damn well that was a bad idea. “What can I do you for, Michael?” There was no mistaking the invitation in the sweet southern drawl of Becky Lee, the twenty-something redhead who’d sidled up beside him and pressed her ample breasts and a sleek body against his side. She knew why he was here as well as he did. A woman liberal with her sexual preferences, willing to try about anything, who didn’t want a commitment, Becky Lee was exactly Michael’s kind of pleasure, and this wouldn’t be the first time she’d serviced his post-mission needs.
    Michael eyed her, his gaze raking the curves of her bountiful cleavage, expecting that rush of raw, primal need, the need that beckoned him to seek female comfort and seemed to draw females to his side. That same rush that got worse with every return home since he’d become GTECH. But he felt nothing. Not one damn thing. Michael ground his teeth at the thought. Damn it to hell, what was wrong with him?
    He tilted back his beer and downed it, wishing his GTECH metabolism didn’t burn off the alcohol practically before he swallowed. There was no pleasure to be found from booze, just a reminder of exactly what he was trying to escape—that he wasn’t human. But sex gave him escape—sex made him feel alive, gave him a release. Frustration churned in his gut, and Michael grabbed Becky and pulled her with him. He was damn sure getting his escape.
    A few seconds later, Michael dragged a laughing, pleased Becky down the deserted hallway, by the restroom, and out the back door exit. The minute they were outside, he pulled her lush curves against him and slid his hand into her silky red hair in preparation to kiss her, but was unable to execute.
    Breathlessly, Becky Lee whispered, “I’m dying here, Michael. Kiss me. I need you to kiss me.” But she didn’t need him, not really. She wanted him, wanted the rush of sex with someone who burned for the escape it offered as much as she did. And there was a time when that had been a perfect match for Michael, a time when that made her a short-term kindred spirit. A time when holding a woman and knowing he gave her pleasure made him feel like something other than a monster. But tonight wasn’t that night. Or rather, this wasn’t the woman, any more than any of the others inside that bar were.
    Michael released Becky Lee and led her back inside. “What you need is a drink.”
    Several minutes later, he exited