by Brenna Lyons
He stepped back, nearly stumbling over his own bare feet. “Of course.”
There were several long minutes of silence after he closed the door behind her. Michelle calmed herself visibly. “I was wrong to walk out that way. I was just...confused.”
His heart sank. “I was afraid of that.”
Her eyes widened. “No. I didn’t mean...” She rubbed at her forehead, then the back of her neck. “I mean, I wasn’t confused about what I said.”
Devon stared at her. “You’re certainly confusing me.”
“I know. This...this isn’t easy for me.”
His heart stuttered. This is where she calls it off. Devon prepared himself to let her leave, then call her father to ask for a cabin to fight the madness.
“I’ve been seriously considering your suit for some time.” She paused, darkening, biting her lower lip.
“But?” It was all he could do to force out that one word.
“I’m scared, Devon. I feel so...out of control.”
She feels out of control? He bit back laughter at the irony of that statement.
“I don’t know what will happen next. I’m confused. I can’t promise to be your mate today—”
“I’m not demanding that.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. If I accept you and I’m wrong, I’ll hurt you.” Tears pooled in her eyes, threatening to fall.
Devon sighed. “I accepted being hurt when I asked your father’s permission to pursue you.”
Michelle stared at him, swallowing hard. Was she really that afraid of hurting him? If so, there was a chance.
“I don’t understand, Michelle. Are you refusing me?”
“I want to know,” she whispered.
“Know? Know what?” She wasn’t making sense.
“If I love you enough to be the mate you need.”
Devon crossed the space between them in two long strides, giddy in disbelief. He cupped his hands behind her head, raising her chin with his thumbs and claiming her mouth deeply, solemnly.
Michelle pressed her hands to his bare chest, sinking against him. She eased back from the kiss, breathing in quick gasps, trembling.
He nuzzled her lips. “Don’t leave tonight.”
She nodded, stammering out a reply that made no sense.
* * * *
Michelle couldn’t have recounted how she got undressed. The only fact she was certain of was that she did none of it herself.
The little her mind acknowledged consciously was a montage of images.
Devon kissed her. He whispered his plans to her, though she scarcely heard them.
They were on the bed, her shirt off, his mouth providing an unhurried torture of her breasts, his palm pressed to the zipper of her jeans.
He was nude. Her jeans were open and ringing her thighs. His fingertips teased at her clit while she stroked him. He groaned, promising her all of him.
They were both nude. Michelle screamed as two fingers breached her body, aching for him. Devon whispered pleas, begging her not to come without him. She nodded.
He kissed her, his body rolling over hers, their limbs entwined. “Now, Michelle,” he breathed into her lips, his fingers sliding free, then circling her clit again, using her own lubricant to arouse her.
“Yes, now.”
She didn’t question what ‘now’ meant. As long as it meant Devon was with her, ‘now’ was good. It turned out that ‘now’ meant he was going to replace his fingers with the much more substantial length and width of his cock.
Michelle tilted her hips up, unable to arch her body beneath his weight, moaning, grasping at his back.
He moved slowly, pushing the head of his cock through her, stretching her for the rest of him with painstaking care. It felt sublime, beyond all comprehension. She sobbed, and he stopped abruptly.
Devon stared at her, questioning her silently. Even now, she knew he’d stop if she asked him to. She nodded frantically, urging him on.
His advance resumed, heartbeat after heartbeat, until he nestled fully inside her. He slid back slightly, then returned, slowly building his speed and vigor until sweat coated their bodies.
Michelle whimpered in delight, teetering at the edge of climax.
“By Ani, yes. Give yourself to me,” he pleaded.
As if invoking the goddess’s name were the last straw, Michelle shattered, crying out harshly as her nails bit into his back and her body contracted around him.
Just when she thought Devon was going to ride her crest and push her further, he tensed, his heat playing sweet harmony to her climax. He pulsed inside her, massaging the clenched walls of her sheath.
Then it was over. Michelle let her hands slide away from his shoulders, her muscles aching from the strain of clenching them in the throes of passion. He pulsed inside her again, and she pressed up against him, aftershocks rocking her body.
“Baroo, give me strength,” he growled.
She smiled at that.
His lips caressed hers, tracing them from one cheek to the other. “What are you thinking now?”
“I don’t know whether to thank Syth as my house god, Baroo as yours, or Tes for granting wishes and blessings.”
He chuckled. “I’m thanking them all. The whole lineup from Ani on.”
“Even Fih and Zel?”
“Getting here wasn’t easy.”
“Ah. That’s Fih, the god of battle. And Zel?”
“You’ve never heard of le petit morte?”
Michelle couldn’t help it; she laughed long and hard, doubly so when Devon groaned at the sensation.
Chapter Fifteen
October 2, 2003
“Stop,” Michelle pleaded, trying to push his hands away, giggling as he managed to tickle her again.
“I want to feel you laugh.” Gods, but he seemed to love feeling her laugh while he was buried inside her.
“Stop playing and kiss me.”
Devon’s hands halted, then wound through hers. His voice was rough in arousal. “I love a woman who knows what she wants and demands it.” His kiss was hot, hard, and full of promise.
He broke away, staring at her, abruptly serious. “Be my mate.”
Ice settled in her stomach. The moment had arrived, the one she’d dreaded, the one she’d had nightmares about for the ten days since she’d accepted him.
She’d known it would come eventually. It had to, but she wished she had more time. How could this moment come before she’d made a decision?
Melissa had said that your love was either enough or it wasn’t, but how could Michelle know if it was enough? The thought of losing him made her feel as if her heart were being ripped out. The thought of losing her family did the same.
He ground his teeth. “You’re not going to,” he guessed. “You’re going to refuse me.”
Tears she hadn’t realized were pooling spilled over her lashes. “I don’t... I need—”
“I have no more time,” he roared. His hands fisted beside her head.
Michelle cringed, her heart pounding at the ferocity of his response.
Devon took a calming breath, closing his eyes, his hands unfisting. He left her body, then left the bed, pulling the sheet over her gently.
She watched him dress in dismay. “What are you doing?” He was leaving her?
“I need...space.”
She winced at the monotone of his voice, wiping away the tears coursing down her cheeks.
He glanced at her, then away. “Promise me you won’t leave. Not alone in the dark.”
“I promise.”
Devon nodded and strode away, locking the door behind him.
For a long moment, Michelle stared at nothing, her emotions rioting. It wasn’t fair. There had to be a way to work this out. Maybe if she told Devon what her problem was, they could figure out a way together.
* * * *
Devon entered the Armen manor, defeat weighing on him heavily. He’d been sure she’d say ‘yes.’ For the last five days, she�
�d been so at ease that this outcome had ceased to exist for him.
He hesitated, then knocked on the Lord Armen’s office door, knowing that someone would be there, likely James himself. He’d hunted the previous three nights, so he was due for down time.
“Come in,” came the muffled reply.
Devon entered, still certain that this was the wrong course but uncertain what else he could do in his state.
The lord looked around his shoulder at the empty foyer, his smile morphing into a look of fury. “Where is she?”
“Safe. At the hotel and with a promise to stay there until morning.”
“Why the hell would you—”
“She refused me.”
James paled; he mumbled a curse, but he didn’t comment.
“I need a cabin. I can’t...trust myself anymore.” How close did I come to hurting her? Too close. Far too close. “I beg this indulgence.” I won’t hurt her. I’d rather die than do it.
“You have it. Stay here while I get the keys and directions for you.” He fairly bolted from the room.
Devon nodded stiffly, a knot of tears rising in his throat, pushed up by the urge to scream. Why did James have to be so accommodating? Part of him wished the lord would force him to try again, to ask Michelle one more time. Another part reasoned that he wouldn’t survive her refusal again.
James returned, placing a set of keys on the desk between them. He started drawing the map that would lead Devon to the mad cabin he’d use.
Devon fisted them, his hand shaking in the effort not to punch something...or to scream. “My thanks,” he rasped.
“The cabin is stocked.”
I won’t need it. The thought of eating makes me want to puke.
“Let me know if you need anything else.”
“I do.”
“Name it.”
Devon unbuckled his weapons belt and set it on the desk. “Hold this for me.”
James looked up at him, his eyes wide in horror.
“I can’t trust myself,” he repeated. “I’d rather die than use that weapon in madness.”
“Syth protect you,” he mumbled, going back to the map.
“Didn’t seem to help last time,” he whispered, wincing at the sacrilege he’d uttered.
James didn’t call him on it, a sure sign that he believed Devon far gone.
Devon admitted to himself that he was. He recognized the emptiness eating at him, warring with his pain and loss. When push came to shove, it might be kindest if Syth led a beast to him and let him die.
Chapter Sixteen
October 3, 2003
Michelle groaned at the headache pounding behind her eyes. This was what too little sleep did to her, and crying probably hadn’t helped. Now, she no doubt looked as horrible as she felt: red eyes, swollen cheeks and nose, upset stomach, and pounding head.
She blinked her eyes, cursing the gray light filtering around the drapes. Though it wasn’t bright yet, it was brighter than her aching head wanted to deal with.
But, it was morning. She’d been awake half the night, waiting for Devon to come back so they could talk, but he hadn’t. Michelle wasn’t certain why she’d thought he’d come back in the night. He’d indicated that he might not, but she’d been keyed up and hopeful that he would.
When would he come back? Should she order breakfast for two and assume he’d be here soon or wait for him? Though her stomach rumbled in complaint, she knew eating wasn’t on the agenda until she worked this out favorably.
The realization that she didn’t know the time, and as such couldn’t judge anything, assaulted her. That overcast light could be six o’clock in the morning or nine.
Michelle fumbled the bedside clock around, shaking her head in disbelief. It was wrong. It had to be wrong. She turned on the television, flipping through to the TV Guide Channel.
“Eleven-thirty,” she choked.
Where was he? His belongings were still scattered around the room. Surely, he hadn’t left for Kaufmann range.
Had he been in an accident? Fallen in battle? Decided to work off steam at training and stayed at the manor for lunch?
Yes. That one was likely. If he’d been in an accident or fallen in battle, someone would have come looking for her. He was just letting her sleep and getting the space he said he needed at the same time. She’d take a taxi to the manor. His car would be there, and she’d know he was all right.
* * * *
“Where is he?” Michelle demanded, her heart pounding in a mixture of anger and terror.
Her father sighed. “You’ve left him no choice, Michelle. A Warrior can only go so far. Devon has gone as far as he can. He had to go.”
“Where?” she repeated, sick at the thought of Devon facing the madness.
“This isn’t a game. If you don’t intend on marrying him, let him go. Even now...” He ran a hand over his face, looking weary. “He could hurt you, Michelle. Devon has enough sanity left to know it and run like hell from it. Don’t push him further unless you intend to seal...and don’t go to him alone.”
Memories of his fury when she’d tried to ask for more time to decide flitted in her mind. He’d startled her, but she hadn’t considered that he might actually hurt her. “He’d really...” She stopped, annoyed with herself. Of course, Devon wouldn’t hurt her. Why would she even ask it? Her father was just being overprotective.
“Yes. He would. Now, do you want me to take you to him?”
Yes! How could he ask that?
“Be sure, Michelle. If you’re not sure, you could literally be the death of him.”
Her head spun. She wanted him; there was no denying that she wanted him until it made her crazy, but did she want him enough to give up the life she treasured for him?
“Think about it, but be sure before you answer me. He deserves that, Princess.”
“Yes. He does.”
She wandered out of the office and across the foyer, trying desperately to sort her feelings. If only being with Devon didn’t mean leaving her home and family, she’d agree in an instant, but it did. If only there was a way to talk to him alone, she was certain they’d be able to work this out somehow, but how could they do that with her father standing over them? Since he was playing the part of Warrior-father, he’d never tell her where Devon was.
The key board. Michelle looked at the closed office door, then around at the deserted foyer and stairs. She hurried to the key board, scanning the rows impatiently. For this to work, she’d have to figure out where he was and be gone before anyone was the wiser.
The keys on the board were spares used for only two reasons: making copies if someone lost a full set and to allow a visiting Warrior a place to track from. And for me to change vehicles or have keys until I find the ones I’ve misplaced. Wherever Devon was, he had to have keys, and unless James had sacrificed one of his own to keep her from doing precisely this...
Michelle noted the empty hook in satisfaction. Typical! Even her own father underestimated her abilities.
The cabin wasn’t far at all, only an hour by car, less if she took her father’s half-ton truck and used the back roads that were inaccessible to her Kia Sportage or Mazda Speed 6. She snatched the truck keys and left quietly, hoping her father wouldn’t catch on. The miles passed in a dizzying rush, but there was no sign of pursuit.
She bit her lip lightly, remembering her father’s warning about Devon’s mental state. She pushed away the image of him as a raving lunatic. He wouldn’t hurt her; she knew he couldn’t. Michelle assured herself that Devon would only consider hurting her if she refused him again. Surely, if he knew she wanted to find a way to be his mate, he’d be able to control his madness. As a Warrior, he wouldn’t want to cause her unease. If he knew that leaving her family was causing her unease, he’d work with her to solve this problem. That was what Warriors did for their mates.
A light rain started falling, and the mountain mist thickened. When the cabin finally came into view, she breathed a sigh
of relief from the tension she hadn’t realized she’d harbored. She slid out of the truck and followed the sound of splitting wood around to the back.
Devon didn’t seem to note her approach. He swung the axe again and again, his muscles rippling smoothly, his hair slicked down in a mixture of sweat and rain, completely immersed in the physical labor though a full cord or more of wood was already stacked beside him. She wondered vaguely how much had already been there when he started.
He split another log and turned, dropping the axe at his feet and striding toward her, rain rolling down his bare chest, his eyes hard. His hands locked around her arms, and his mouth captured hers in a near-bruising kiss. For a moment, she stiffened in fear and pain, her gasp disappearing into his mouth as she opened hers to protest and he took advantage of it as if she’d invited his kiss. His mouth and hands gentled as the storm gathered steam.
Michelle moaned at the sensation of Devon over her, pressing her into the thick grass while he buried his face in her throat. She opened her fists, touching him, needing the connection of skin against skin. How could she lose this?
“You shouldn’t have come here,” he whispered.
She sobbed. “You don’t want me here?” Wasn’t that why she was here? She didn’t want to lose Devon any more than she wanted to lose her family.
He pulled back so she could see his hopeful expression, brushing her hair off her cheek. “I want you here, but you know what I want from you.”
“I do want it, Devon. But, we need—”
“Then you’ll be my mate and go to my range and—”
She winced, trying to find the words to explain.
His face hardened and he pushed off of her, using his fists against the ground to lever himself up. Michelle grasped at his arm, stopping him at his knees, shaking her head.
He shook her off, growling. “Why are you here? What do you want?” he demanded.
“You. Devon, please—”
“I told you that release isn’t enough for me,” he shouted.
“It’s not enough for me, either.”
Confusion, hope, and fury warred in his expression.
