Prince of Forever

by Gena Showalter

  She liked him in that way.

  Satisfaction swept through him.

  “I can’t get enough.” She closed her eyes but continued to gyrate against him. “You promised more if I wanted it, and I do. Give it to me.”

  With anyone else, those words would have roused his anger, reminding him of his terrible fate. With Julia, the opposite proved true. As shy as she’d been, this new aggression went straight to his shaft, making him harden and swell to the point of pain. How wet she must be. He would have no trouble sliding his massive width inside of her.

  “I’ll give you everything,” he rasped, his own breaths coming a little too quickly. Once again, he pressed his mouth against hers.

  Eager, she met his tongue with her own. They rolled and spared, their teeth clinking once, twice. She nipped at his bottom lip as if she wanted to devour him, then entwined her legs with his, rubbing against his erection.

  He sucked in a breath. In his arms, she was both a liquid fire and a raging wild storm. At that moment, he wanted to push so deep inside her she would only have the strength to gasp his name. He wanted to feel her inner walls clench around his length as she chased her release, wanted to feel that powerful surge of satisfaction while he held her naked and poured his seed into her.

  He wouldn’t have to worry about impregnating her. Percen had done him one small favor before tossing the box through the cosmos; he’d cast a spell, ensuring Tristan could not give a female a baby unless he wished to do so.

  A pang of longing nearly dropped him to his knees. Longing? For a baby? With a guan ren?

  No. No! The kiss felt too good, that was all. No kiss should be this good, this magical. A kiss shouldn’t consume him, either, shouldn’t make him yearn for impossible things. But it did. As he held the little dragon in his arms, he entertained an odd desire. A yearning for a family of his own. A place to belong and put down roots. Desires he’d never allowed himself to entertain before, but could not deny. With each press of his tongue against Julia’s, he yearned to connect with her on a soul-deep level.

  He yearned to spend forever with someone. An equal. Someone who would love him.

  Not too long ago, you disdained love and all its complications.

  True. But one kiss had obviously changed everything. And why not? He had never felt this pull before. This need to weave his life with another’s. Surely it had nothing to do with Julia herself, but with his desire to conquer someone, anyone, instead of being the conquered.

  Aye. That made sense. Little Julia had proven to be more enticing, more exciting, than he’d first imagined, and his warrior’s instinct demanded he conquer her. No more to it than that. She might taste like ambrosia, smell like oraberries, and feel softer than gartina petals, but she meant nothing more to him than the rest of his mistresses.

  She was not special.

  Determined to prove to himself that he could take her and remain emotionless, he trailed kisses down her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, all the while keeping his mind detached. She is nothing. Merely a guan ren.

  “I’m going to remove your clothing now, nixa.”

  * * *

  “YES, I—” JULIA paused. Something wasn’t right. Something had changed. Tristan sounded cold and callous now, completely uncaring. Before, he’d evinced extreme hunger.

  She fought her way out of the sensual fire that raged inside her mind, slowly regaining her common sense. Details danced within her grasp, then finally solidified. Tristan wasn’t breathing hard anymore. He wasn’t even winded, yet she labored for every breath. He seemed perfectly skilled, dispassionate and restrained while she arched and writhed for more.

  His expression had turned impassive, his eyes devoid of emotion, his lips firm, hard. He didn’t look like a passionate lover. He looked…removed. Like a slave forced to do his master’s bidding.

  He didn’t really want her, did he? He merely played his part. Nausea and embarrassment churned in her stomach.

  With calm, sure movements, he began to work her shirt over her head.

  “No.” Julia jerked back, away from Tristan and the magnetic force of his body.

  I’m an idiot. Why had she ever agreed to a kiss?

  Like she didn’t know the answer. When he’d checked her for injuries, running his hands all over her body, she’d had to confront every fantasy her mind had ever conjured. Not to mention pure sensation, raw maleness, and total desire.

  How she’d craved—how she still craved—more of him. The man had stroked his tongue across her lips while kneading her backside. Her nipples had hardened, and tingles and need had shot straight to her core, nearly incinerating her panties. The only thing she could do? React.

  For the first time, she’d known true, consuming desire. Every cell in her body had gone on alert, ready for sensations she hadn’t quite understood but hungered for. Desperately. His flavor…well, chocolate didn’t compare. He’d moved his tongue, body and hands so expertly, bringing optimum pleasure to every inch of her.

  As she remembered every little detail, a dreamy sound of promise and passion slipped past her lips. She craved another kiss, another taste.

  She craved more.

  Just one more….

  Julia blinked back to reality, realizing she’d gotten lost in Tristan—again. This time, he hadn’t even touched her.

  How could one man affect her so strongly? And how could Tristan remain so unaffected?

  Was she that undesirable?

  I am, she thought, battling a sudden torrent of self-pity. I truly am. If she’d had more experience, she might have bolstered her confidence with memories of all the men she’d left in satisfied comas of sexual bliss. But she didn’t. And she couldn’t. Tristan probably had more experience than most porn stars, while she probably kissed like a ninety-year-old grandmother suffering from heart disease.

  At that thought, what little confidence Julia had left evaporated. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if she could hold her sudden burst of pain inside. This was exactly why she couldn’t ever kiss Tristan again, no matter how much pleasure his slightest touch gave her. With him, she would always worry that she wasn’t good enough. That she wasn’t satisfying him.

  Except, oddly enough, when his lips had first met hers, she hadn’t thought about anything except the hot press of his body and all the wicked things they could do to each other.

  No, no. She shook her head. That was a fluke. Had to be. Were this detached lover to kiss her again, she’d worry, worry, worry that her breath smelled bad, or that he didn’t like her bigger-than-average curves, or that she was boring him to death.

  What if she’d bored him this time?

  Goodness gracious. He wasn’t even kissing her right now, and she was already beginning to worry. Never should have kissed him. Before, she’d suspected he would find her lacking. Now she knew for sure. That’s why he’d become so unresponsive, and he would no doubt spend the entire night laughing at her pitiful attempt.

  Julia studied his features, searching for any hint of amusement. She saw a hint of confusion…and a blaze of desire?

  No. No way. He didn’t desire her. She was only seeing what she wanted to see, instead of what was really there.

  “Come. Let us go to bed,” he said, his honey-rich voice breaking the stretch of silence. He clasped her arm. “Together. You want me. I want you. Why wait?”

  She wrenched away from him, using anger as a shield. Anything to prevent herself from flying back into his embrace. “You’ll be sleeping—or whatever else you wish to do—alone. In here. Without me. As planned.” Ugh! Why did she keep pausing between words, as if every new part of the sentence were a surprise to her?

  He flashed his straight, white teeth as he scowled. “Alone? You are back to rebuffing me, even though you kissed me with such passion?”

  “Really? Passion?” Delight shimmered through her, overshadowing the embarrassment. “You’re not just saying that?”

  He worked his jaw left and right, and he didn
’t stop until the bone popped from exertion. “You did not think you kissed me with passion?”

  Not a denial, but not an agreement, either. “Forget it,” she grumbled. “Just go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” Her chin tilted stubbornly to the side. “Just to be clear, this—” she motioned in a circle with her hand “—is your room. That—” she pointed down the hall “—is mine.”

  “You are sure?”

  * * *

  FOR A MAN who caters to the desires of women, Tristan sure needs constant instruction. Julia’s exasperation must have inadvertently strengthened her, because she managed to say, “I’m sure,” and only trembled like one or twenty times.

  “Julia,” he muttered softly, all traces of ire melting from him as swiftly as ice cubes in a desert. His lashes swept low over his eyes and his lips parted. “You are wet for me, are you not?”

  Her tongue thickened, gluing itself to the roof of her mouth. She tried to speak but failed. Opting for the coward’s way out, she turned and raced down the hall to her bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her.

  She sank onto the bed. What had she gotten herself into?

  Isn’t it obvious? You’ve gotten yourself into a whole lot of trouble.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  You Have Only Two Words To Offer Any

  Conversation. “Yes” and “Mistress”

  TRISTAN PACED THE narrow hallway for a long while. With every step, he cursed women everywhere for their fickleness. He cursed himself, as well. He hadn’t remained detached. He’d wanted Julia, had tried to convince her to see his way, something he’d never done with another.

  A day of firsts.

  He’d been rejected by a woman, then accepted, then rejected again; she’d made his body burn for completion only to turn him away once she’d gotten her claws buried in his backside.

  This would not have happened on Imperia, where women had flocked to his side.

  Imperia. Just thinking the name caused a wave of loneliness and loss to crash over him. A pang cut so deeply it nearly cleaved him in two. Never again would he see his home, the billowing white grass, the multihued sky. The soaring dragons. Never would he watch the four suns rise separately or the moons rise together. Never would he know if Roake had taken a wife and had children.

  Never would Tristan know the life—and death—his dearest friends and family had experienced. They were dead now, mortals who’d lived over a thousand years ago, during his other life. The people and places that had been so important to him were nothing but mist in his mind—sometimes thick and tangible, at others so sheer he wouldn’t know they were there if not for a lingering, ever-present fragrance.

  Still he ached at their loss. Never again would he know true friendship or have a home of his own. No, he would be forced to endure the selfish whims and ever-changing desires of his guan rens.

  Bitterness roared to life, an emotion he usually battled with extreme determination. Here, now? He didn’t want to fight. He let the bitterness surge, wrapping him in cold blanket of despair. With a virulent groan, he gazed at the empty space surrounding him—an emptiness he found mirrored within himself. He’d lost his future. His loved ones.

  Mayhap even his soul. Besides Julia’s kiss, he could not name one good thing that had happened to him since he’d bedded Zirra.

  Hopelessness joined the bitterness, the two waging a desperate war against his resolve, leaving him raw and wounded inside. Only his pride kept him defiant and prevented him from crying out to the heavens to beg the sorceress to free him. Not that she would hear him.

  Aye, only pride stopped him. Pride he had no right to harbor.

  Do not walk to me, Tristan. Crawl.

  I like her necklace. Take it from her.

  Kill him. His every breath offends me.

  As he continued to pace, his steps became agitated. He was used to being with a mistress or alone in the box, a sentient mist aware of the world around him, but unable to respond. Very rarely had he been free and solitary. Now, his very bones burned with the torment of emotions raining inside him. Not just the hopelessness and bitterness, but humiliation, helplessness and rage. He needed a distraction. He needed…Julia.

  He could lose himself in her. Sex wasn’t particularly enjoyable for him anymore, but it certainly wiped the acrid knowledge of his past—and his future—from his mind, if only for a moment. He would control the pleasure, so he would control the woman.

  But Julia had claimed she didn’t want him. After nearly eating off his face during their kiss.

  At his sides, his hands curled into fists of their own accord. He didn’t like the way they’d left things. He’d accused her of being wet, and she’d run to her room. They needed to talk some more. Yes, yes. Talk. Another conversation might prove more distracting than sex, anyway. Never had a mistress made him smile the way Julia had done.

  Eager, he stalked to her door, only to pause. Without her permission, he could not enter her room. That thought irritated him even further. By Elliea, he loathed being told what to do. He always had. He had been a soldier, leader of the Elite, and all of these years of enslavement had not destroyed his warrior instincts.

  A warrior gave orders, he did not take them.

  Body tight with frustration, he tested the handle. The silver metal turned easily. “May I enter, Julia?” The words left his mouth quickly, for he despised the taste of them.

  “Why?” came the muffled reply. “I’ve already told you that we’re not…we aren’t…”

  He snapped, “I did not come to beg for your favors, if that is what you desire.” But he would be forced to do so if she commanded it.

  Every muscle in his body tensed. Before Zirra, he’d spent too many years of his childhood on his knees, begging his mother for clothes, food and affection, his efforts rewarded with nothing but pain and humiliation.

  She’d hated him, because she’d hated his father, a wealthy Lord who’d already had a family and hadn’t wanted anything to do with his bastard son.

  Tristan had never felt wanted…until he’d had a growth spurt at the age of fifteen and women began to notice him. Being the object of their desire…he’d only wanted more, more, more. Then Zirra cursed him. Now? He wasn’t sure what he wanted beyond his freedom.

  “I just want to sleep,” she called. “Alone.”

  She didn’t expect him to grovel, then. His muscles released their viselike grip on his bones, most of the tension seeping from him. “I must ascertain your chamber is properly bolted against intruders.” As good an excuse as any.

  A heavy pause thickened the air until she uttered a long-suffering sigh. “All right. You may enter.”

  He wasted no time, pushing his way inside. Light dripped like crystal tears from an overhead source, brightly illuminating the small room. Imperian light stemmed from lamori gems—stones that were alive—but he’d traveled the otherworlds, and he’d seen light sources like this one before.

  Julia sat atop a sinfully decadent four-poster bed of pink silk sheets and mint-green shams, clutching a sheet to her chest. Her knees were up, her long honey-colored hair cascading like rays of sunshine around her face, shoulders and slender arms.

  Her lovely green eyes met his, but she quickly glanced away. After a determined inhale, exhale of breath, however, she faced him once again. “I’m kind of glad you’re here. I’ve been thinking about you, and I wanted to tell you that I haven’t meant to be so ill-tempered,” she said. “I’m just… I don’t know. Two days ago I flipped a man off, then shoved him at the flea market just to beat him past the doors. Then I yelled at a perverted killer with a sword—that’s you, though I don’t think of you as a killer anymore.”

  He arched a brow. “But you still think of me as perverted?”

  “No, of course not.” She heaved a dejected sigh. “What’s wrong with me? I’m usually very reserved. I never speak out of turn. Since your arrival, I’ve done nothing but insult you over and over again, and I’m sorry. So very sorry. I don
’t want to hurt you. It breaks my heart to think of hurting anyone the way—” She pressed her lips together.

  What had she wanted to say? To think of hurting anyone the way…I have been hurt?

  Yes. That. He ground his teeth. Who had hurt her and why? What kind of life had this woman lived? What hardships had she faced? And why did he suddenly want to lay the heads of her enemies at her feet?

  No need to ponder. She was the only woman ever to offer repentance for hurting him in some way, and it had thrown him. Surely!

  He offered her a half smile, unsure how to react. “You have nothing to apologize for, little dragon. I have enjoyed my time with you.” For the most part.

  “I know you’re just saying that,” she said, shy again, “but I thank you, anyway.”

  He opened his mouth to comment, but her next words stopped him. “I’m sorry for the kiss, too. I didn’t mean to let it get out of hand, or to lead you on.”

  She looked so earnest, still so concerned for his feelings. First her apology, now this. A guan ren’s concern…so new to him, and yet it was the second time Julia had sought to soothe his damaged ego.

  “Do you forgive me?” she asked, peering at him through the shield of her thick black lashes.

  He could not refuse her. And he could not resist teasing her anew. “You are forgiven, Julia. As a novice, you knew not what you were doing.”

  Her features crumpled, and her chin began to tremble. “You noticed, huh? That I’m a novice, I mean?”

  She neared tears? Because he’d called her a novice? She had been hurt by others. Anger flared. “I just meant our kiss ended too quickly. A woman of more experience would have known this and continued kissing me.”

  “Oh…oh.” Understanding dawned, and she began to smile. Next, she chuckled, the tinkling sound ringing in his ears. “So…aren’t you going to check to make sure my room is bolted shut?”

  Playing his part, he checked both windows, making sure the locks worked properly. Curious about Julia, he also searched under the bed, finding nothing but old, dusty boxes. He even rummaged through her closet. The amount of clothing contained in the tiny space almost swallowed him whole. Could one tiny female possibly wear all of these garments?