West of Want (Hearts of the Anemoi)

by Laura Kaye

Ella was down the rabbit hole. No doubt about it. A beautiful and presumably gifted man with impossible powers. A miracle healing. Some sort of fraternal feud that had apparently put the crosshairs of a curse on her back.

  And the weirdest thing? It all felt real. The oddness was as exhilarating as it was frightening. But she was going with it, for now. After all, he’d eased her pain, healed her injuries, and offered his protection against his own brother—what more would a man have to do to earn her faith? So, she believed Zephyros, believed in him. She just hoped she didn’t live to regret putting her faith in him. But at some point, she had to listen to her gut again, start trusting it.

  Not everyone was Craig.

  She returned the scissors to the counter, pushed them far from the edge. Everything looked like a mishap waiting to happen, now. She had no idea how someone could make you have bad luck, but something had to explain how she’d tripped and almost fallen, busted her toe, burned herself, and cut her hand, all in the past fifteen minutes.

  She whirled on Zeph. “So, will you do it?”

  He studied her face. “Perhaps you would like to hear what it entails first?”

  Ella released a shallow breath. “Okay.” She shifted feet. “What do I—”

  “You must be in water, and I must bathe you.” Ella gaped. “First in a salt bath, and then I must rinse you off in the shower.”

  She scoffed. “Oh, that’s all?”

  “Yes.”

  Ella thought to argue, but now that Zeph had described her as “marked,” she was sure she could feel it. The memory of that cold, slick wind surrounding her made her shiver. It almost felt as if her heart had to work harder to pump normally. Maybe it was just her anxiety, or the weirdness of…everything. She met his waiting gaze. “Okay, I guess.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “This is really the only way besides just waiting to see what else happens?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  She twisted her fingers together. “Then let’s get it over with.”

  He nodded and started filling the tub. “Now, can you bring me as much salt as you have?”

  “Like, regular table salt?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sure. I’ll just, uh…” She thumbed over her shoulder, then left.

  “Ella?” he called.

  She swung back around the doorjamb. “Yeah?”

  Intense gray-blue eyes stared at her. “Be careful.”

  She nodded and retreated. Her mind went mechanical. Salt. Salt. Salt. Thinking about anything else threatened to unleash a serious case of nerves. Shaker off the table, canister of Morton’s from the pantry. Of course, when she reached for the latter, it slipped out of her hand and spilled on the floor. Bad luck on top of bad luck. Just great. Eager to be free of whatever was happening to her, Ella returned to the bathroom, shut the door, and plunked her findings on the counter. “Please tell me this is enough.”

  “Should be.” He unscrewed the lid from the saltshaker and emptied the granules into the filling tub. Repeated the process with the canister, pouring what was left of it in.

  “So, er, I suppose it’s too much to hope this will work with clothes on, right?” Heat infused her cheeks, but the thought of baring herself to him got her hot and wet in a way that had nothing to do with the steam the shower had thrown off earlier.

  He turned and raked his gaze down the front of her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Uh, don’t be. Somehow, I knew.” She nearly asked him to turn around so she could undress, but any attempt at modesty was pointless if he had to bathe her. Besides, this was simply a clinical procedure. Like being at the doctor’s office.

  Uh-huh. Right.

  Well, Dr. Zeph, here goes nothing.

  Before she allowed herself another second to consider her actions, she whipped her shirt over her head, then shoved her sweats to her ankles and stepped out of them. She wasn’t ashamed of her body—she bore no resemblance to Barbie, to be sure, but her body was strong and curvy, and she liked how the wide flaring of her hips made her waist look smaller than it was. This body let her handle the rigors of sailing a ship all alone, and she liked that about herself. Still, her muscles went tight with nervousness, and moments passed before she gathered the courage to check Zeph’s reaction.

  His eyes bulged, then narrowed. An odd, reflective quality played behind the blue, like they were backlit.

  No doctor had ever looked at her like that before.

  That she affected him eased her anxiety, made her bolder. Holding his gaze, she swallowed hard and reached behind her back. Her bra fell loose and she dropped it. With a deep breath, she shimmied out of her panties.

  Adrenaline surged through her. She clenched her fists to restrain the trembling. The reaction wasn’t from nerves or embarrassment, but from a growing desire for the near-stranger before her, from the sense something rare and magical was about to happen—was already happening. Instead of the self-consciousness she expected, Ella’s arousal surged, then spiked when Zeph’s eyes started to glow that tense, beautiful light she remembered seeing upon waking this morning. A quiet, needful moan sounded from the back of his throat, and he licked his lips. Ella’s gaze dropped and locked onto the huge bulge filling up the front of his jeans.

  Jesus.

  Ella’s nipples, already peaked from baring herself to his observation, went tight. Warm heat slicked the place between her legs. Holy shit. In all the years she’d been with Craig she’d never once felt this kind of crazy animal attraction.

  His jaw clenched and his chin gestured her toward the tub.

  Oh, right. Good thing one of them still had their head about them. Though she didn’t love the proof that he affected her more than she did him.

  She stepped into the tub with one foot, then the other, and promptly slipped. Her arms shot out to brace herself against nothing, but Zeph caught her around her waist, his hands clutching just below her breasts.

  He growled out a string of words she didn’t understand, but totally got the gist of from his tone. She could only suck in a deep breath and try to calm her racing heart.

  “Let’s do this,” she finally said, “before I kill myself.” She sank down into the bath, almost glad for her most recent incident because it bolstered her resolve. “Ooh, it’s a little chilly.”

  “I’m sorry. It, uh, it needs to be.”

  “Okay.” Sitting up, she clasped her arms around her knees and glanced at Zeph. He towered over her, that strange glow lighting up those incredible eyes. “You with me?”

  There was a flaring of blue, and then he knelt beside the tub.

  The image of his masculine bulk, bare from the waist up, on his knees… Ella dropped her gaze to the water to try to rein her body in. “Okay, so, what do I—”

  “My hands will draw the curse out of you, and the salt will render it inert.” He tilted his head to meet her lowered gaze. “All right?”

  She nodded, and her shoulders relaxed. That he took the time to explain what was going to happen made her feel less out of control.

  “I’ll start with your back. Stretch out as much as you can, and face the wall.”

  Ella blew out a breath and obeyed. In allowing her the modesty of facing away, he showed her respect and earned her trust, which wasn’t something that came easily to her, not anymore. She concentrated on the lapping of the water against her skin, on the chill of her exposed shoulder.

  His hands burrowed under the length of her hair and cupped the back of her neck. A tingling like static electricity danced off her skin, seemed to conduct through the water even where they didn’t touch. Meticulously, he glided his palms over her, from neck to shoulder to spine to ribs. A deep yearning erupted within her. How she wished this wasn’t just some ritual. How she wished a man like this would tend to her and worship her because he wanted to. But that wasn’t what this was about.

  Words spilled from his lips. She’d only ever heard him say a few utterances in that foreign language before, but as his
speech flowed now, it sounded reverent and plaintive. As his hands reached the swells of her rear, she held her breath, trying to restrain the trembling brewing beneath her skin.

  He switched into English. “In the names of my ancestors, my gods, and myself, I call upon the elements of good and the forces of righteousness. Come forth and cleanse Ella of all evil and alien magic, and restore her to balance and health. By our wills combined, so be it.”

  The words mesmerized her so much that his hands were on her lower thighs before she realized. He slipped back into the other language, and she knew in her gut he’d purposely distracted her as he’d touched her more intimately. Her heart squeezed and released. A delayed ripple of pleasure surged between her legs. Her body was hyper aware of his touch, even if her mind had been temporarily diverted.

  As his charged touch caressed the backs of her feet, she kicked, sloshing the water. “Sorry, it tickles,” she said.

  A low chuckle rumbled out of him. “Turn over onto your back.”

  She shivered as she turned, and not just because the water was cool.

  Except for her face and nipples, most of her was submerged. She’d never felt more vulnerable in her life.

  “Be at ease,” he rasped.

  How often his words seemed to respond to her thoughts! Her gaze cut to his. That blue light was back, studiously fixed on his hands’ journey. His mouth hung open, his chest expanded and contracted at a faster pace than before.

  “Tilt your head back,” he whispered, cupping the nape of her neck so her head didn’t go all the way under. “Your hair needs to be wet through.”

  She tipped her head and nearly purred when he stroked his fingers through her hair. He combed his nails against her scalp, and the combination of his touch with his energy turned her body liquid all over.

  Zeph sucked in a breath. “Good. You’re doing so good. Can you hold your breath and go under? Let the water cover your face.”

  Ella sucked in a breath, closed her eyes, and pressed her head backward into the water to comply with his request.

  His fingers traced her features and drew that odd static sensation over her face. “Okay,” he said a little louder.

  Breaking the surface, she let out her breath, and found she could think more clearly than before, as if a cottony fog had disappeared from her brain. Was she imagining the difference or did this mean the cleansing was working? She blinked and clenched her eyes, the salt stinging as if she’d been swimming in the ocean. Soft terry pressed against her brow, her eyes, her mouth.

  “Thank you,” she said. It was like he could read her needs. His caring attention added another layer to her growing arousal. It wasn’t just his physical perfection to which her body responded.

  Chanting the prayer again, he repeated the same process as on her back side. The light that shone from his palms was softer than the one that had healed her this morning, or maybe that was the impact of the water or the mid-day sun coming through the slanted blinds. Over her neck, shoulders, down the length of her arms and hands and back up, across her chest. “I must touch you here,” he said in a low voice, hands hovering over her breasts.

  “I understand,” she said.

  And then he was touching her, cupping the swells of her breasts, palming her nipples. God, his hands were so big, so warm, and felt so right on her. The little moan she unleashed mortified her, but she’d been powerless to hold it in. If he made her feel this way when he wasn’t even trying to seduce her, she could only imagine…

  His hands smoothed around the underside of her breasts, then back up to the middle. Supporting her weight in the water, his right hand pressed firmly against her heart. Lingered there. “We are doing it, Ella. Your heart already beats lighter, freer.”

  He needn’t have told her. The tightness in her chest receded, making it easier to draw a deep breath, and her heart rate calmed. Again, he was healing her. “Thank you,” she said in a shaky voice.

  He shook his head. “Don’t thank me. None of this would be necessary if I’d left you alone.”

  Ella shot into a sitting position. Water splashed over his arms, onto the golden skin of his chest. “Don’t say that.”

  Zeph’s expression turned surprised, but Ella couldn’t stand the idea of never having met him. Not that she knew him, or understood exactly what was going on. But the rightness of his presence here? She felt that. Bone deep. “It’s just…I’m glad I met you.”

  Zeph stared but remained silent, like he didn’t know what to do with her declaration. The words were soft when they finally came. “Why? I’ve caused you nothing but trouble.”

  Ella drew a wet picture against the tub’s edge with her finger. “I can’t tell you the last time I felt this alive. I may be confused and mystified and curious as all hell, but I’m also engaged and interested and eager. And those are things…I haven’t felt this way…” She got tangled in emotions, in memories. She swallowed around the knot in her throat. “Like I said, I’m just glad, is all.”

  His wet knuckles caressed her cheekbone, her jaw. “In truth, so am I.”

  Ella smiled, absorbing the warm impact of his admission.

  Zeph retained his serious façade. “We should finish this,” he whispered.

  “Right.” She reclined.

  His hands smoothed over her belly, her hips, the top of her pubic hair. Ella fought the instinct to part her legs. Was he going to have to touch her there? Jesus. Probably. She couldn’t look at Zeph, didn’t want him to see the desire she felt. But he leapfrogged to her thighs, and, ridiculously, disappointment swamped her.

  “I will have to touch you there, too,” he murmured.

  Her gaze whipped to him, but he was looking away, watching his hands, chanting the prayer in low tones. He caressed her feet, the sensation almost as good as a foot massage. She bit back a threatening moan.

  Fingers tapped against the insides of her ankles. “Open,” he commanded, his voice a rough scrape.

  Ella swallowed hard and spread her legs.

  His big hands caressed upwards, carrying that strange, wonderful tingle over her skin as he went. Ella’s heartbeat took off at a sprint, anticipating his touch. There. She could feel his approaching heat, the hint of the energy. In that moment, every nerve ending in her body seemed to congregate between her thighs. She held her breath. Oh, just do it already! Do it!

  With one big hand, he palmed her mound. Didn’t move. Didn’t rub. Didn’t stroke. Which was good, in a way, because she was certain the slightest movement would make her come.

  She bit down on the inside of her cheek, fighting the rising swell of sensation, the congregating pressure, the instinctual need to rock her hips. One half of her brain begged him to stop touching her, the other side pleaded for more. The debate raged within, adding to the feeling she was going to split wide apart.

  His hand left her.

  She gasped, then moaned out loud. The sound didn’t embarrass her this time because she wanted him too much.

  “Good gods,” he growled, then heaved her out of the tub. Water rained off her body, over him, over the floor. Carrying her, he sidestepped them into the shower and turned on the water. Cold to start, it heated to a just tolerable lukewarm. He lowered her feet. She stood, wobbly at first, but steadier after a moment. The good thing about the shower, it hid how loud she was panting. For him.

  A rustling of fabric behind her caught her attention, and she didn’t turn to look, because she knew. He’d taken his jeans off. Her imagination went wild. He was magnificent from the waist up—cut stomach, taut chest, broad shoulders, arms so muscular the veins popped. No way the scenery on the bottom half was any less impressive. If she let her eyes confirm the details, she’d be done for. All over him. Any pretense that this was just about removing bad magic would go right down the drain.

  Wet denim slapped against the floor. The door slid shut.

  Instinctively, Ella felt Zeph’s presence behind her. Looming. Promising to touch.

  Her mind res
isted what her body wanted. Ella didn’t do this. She was analytical and levelheaded. While she enjoyed adventure, she wasn’t a risk taker and she wasn’t a by-the-seat-of-her-pants kind of woman. These were traits developed through sailing, traits that made her a good sailor. Recent debacle notwithstanding.

  “Almost done now, Ella,” he whispered against her neck. His lips skimmed under her ear. The action was just a brush, not a full kiss, but it ignited the blood in her veins just the same. She tilted her head away, exposing her throat to him, inviting more. Fingers stroked her, from jaw to collarbone. “You are so lovely. I could touch you forever.”

  She sagged back against him and gasped. He was completely naked. And fully aroused. Oh, my God.

  He grunted and froze. “Ella, Ella,” he rasped. “We’ll never finish this if you do that.” He retreated enough to part their skin where they’d touched below the waist.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. But she wasn’t. Not in the least. In fact, it took all her willpower not to grind back against him. Maybe it didn’t make sense. After all, she’d only known him a few hours, days if you wanted to be generous and count the times they’d talked in the hospital. But what she wanted, it didn’t feel like sex with a random stranger. It felt deep and meaningful and right. And, God, did she want it. Want him.

  Zeph reached around her and grabbed the bottle of shampoo, poured a dollop in his palm. He washed her hair, a mix of relaxing scalp massages and gentle, circling scrubs. When he was done, she turned and tilted her head back to keep the suds from rinsing into her eyes.

  “Oh, gods, so damn beautiful.”

  Despite the cool water, the shower went hot and steamy, the glass fogged, and the air condensed like the gathering low pressure of a spring storm. Their eyes met, and Ella’s mouth dropped open at the raw hunger of his gaze.

  He leaned in. Close. Tight. And reached over her shoulder for the bar of soap. Without stepping away, he lathered it between his hands, returned it to the rack, and washed her in soft, circular strokes that made her nearly beg for more. This time, he didn’t ask permission to touch her most private parts, but he also didn’t linger. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.