by Jackie Ivie
No. She wasn’t interested in Sebastian. So why was her body giving her so much trouble? She could swear each breath came quicker, every inch of where they touched got hotter, and her heart rate even elevated.
And worse.
So did his.
What a horrible time to have an erotic-themed train of thought. Locked in a stranger’s arms, in the midst of the Paris catacombs, racing through a corridor of death. And worse. Cords rippled through his pecs, moving the flesh against her palms as he tightened them. As if he knew her line of thinking and wasn’t at all happy about it.
Maybe she should just get to her room, and hope the shower was stronger as well as colder than the usual lukewarm mist.
And then they were out. Without warning, warm, fresh air filled her lungs, while light assailed her with the force of a really sharp cleaver. Jill blinked once before slamming both eyes shut. Her eye watered even more as an offending bit of dirt felt like it sliced. She was flirting with a scratched cornea now. Every blink upped the chances. The only thing she could do was keep her eyes closed until she could get the damned lens out.
Well. That certainly dampened the pursuit of her erotic themed interlude. She’d be lucky if he didn’t run from her.
She was probably purplish-toned on one side of her face, and would be stuck with glasses that made her look like a myopic librarian. Not only were they so thick they distorted everything, but they didn’t do a damned thing for her looks. Anything romantic with Sebastian went right into the fantasy realm of her memory. She might as well focus on her eye issue. She’d be lucky if nothing got infected. She didn’t even know where the pharmacy was or how to ask for one.
She sniffed. His arms tightened slightly. And the area about her heart warmed. It was immediate and physical, and without one bit of warning. She scrunched her eyes tighter closed to prevent any movement. And of course, he had to notice.
“Why do you cry?”
“I’m not... crying.”
“Those are tears wetting my chest.”
Oh. He had to bring that up. “My eye is watering, okay?”
“Exactly as I said.”
“No. It’s not what you said. I am not crying. It’s only watering on one side.”
“Why?”
“It’s a side-effect of wearing contacts in a dirt-filled tunnel. And if I lose this one, I’m going to be blind as a bat and twice as helpless. Trust me.”
“What is a contact?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
Great. Now she knew the truth. Sebastian was on hell of a man. Gorgeous. Ripped. Sigh-worthy. And just like most handsome guys, he was waffling toward the bottom of the IQ scale. Figures.
Jill sighed. “A contact lens is a bit of plastic formed to the shape of your eye. It corrects vision rather than wearing glasses.”
“Plastic?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of that, either. And expect me to believe it anyway.”
He made a rumbling sound that resembled a growl. Jill’s body responded without one bit of instruction or permission. Her hands even crept up his chest to wind about his neck, gluing her more securely to him. She’d never felt so turned on and attracted. To anyone. Ever. His arms tightened even more in response.
Oh. This was bad.
“Why... don’t you just get going?” she whispered, sounding a lot more like a siren in a 1940’s black and white movie, than a lecturing professor. She made a mental note to work on her delivery... after she handled this incredible reaction to him. Such a thing was foreign. Hypnotic. Thrilling. And almost frightening. As if someone else was in charge of her body, sending all kinds of sensual signals that he seemed to recognize and enjoy.
His legs flexed. He leapt. She had the sensation of movement, the rush of air across at her ears, ruffling more hair loose from her clip. It was a good thing her eyes were shut. If he was running, he was incredibly fast. And she didn’t want to know.
Some things were better left unasked. And unanswered. And before she could even acclimatize herself to the chill, they were inside a structure of some kind. The street noise muted and dropped away. The temperature warmed. She caught the vague impression of people and conversation, and then a full sensation of dropping. It was beyond any nightmarish scene. This felt like he’d taken a dive feet-first off a bridge. Jill kept her eyes scrunched shut and waited for the thud of a landing.
It didn’t come. The next moment his legs flexed again, accompanied by the slightest jolt as they must be landing. If she had to peg what had just happened, they’d taken a flight... without any means of propulsion. She spent half a second mulling it over before deciding she didn’t want to know how or what, either. It could go in the unanswered portion of this experience.
That’s when she started to wonder if she’d hit her head or something. Maybe she’d been overcome by hallucinogenic fumes of some kind. Having a dream sequence of some kind. Or maybe she was still in the catacombs... prostrate. Dead to the world. Unconscious. Yet still extremely aroused.
“We have arrived.”
The words rumbled through the chest she was clinging to, cancelling out the hallucinogenic theory. He didn’t sound remotely interested in her, or her rampant, uncontrollable response. Thankfully, he didn’t even sound aware of it, either.
Jill cracked open her unscratched eye. Not good. The place was a blur of space. An ocean of red floor warmed the area. It could be wood. Really expensive wood. She opened her scratched eye, and got an immediate shot of pain lancing through her skull. It wasn’t enough to dismiss the obvious.
This was not her hotel.
It wasn’t even close.
CHAPTER FIVE
This woman, his mate was fairly entertaining. That could be a good sign. Everything she said and did was interesting. It took a bit of time to decipher and evaluate her meaning. His current circumstances, for instance. She’d entrenched herself in the bathroom of this suite and locked the door. And that came after she’d cried out, slapped a hand to the weeping eye, and demanded he show her the direction.
He had.
His mate also talked to herself. That was another bit of entertainment. Sebastian concentrated and could hear her easily as she turned on the faucet and fussed with her contact thing, deciding to use it in the wrong eye.
There was a right and wrong eye? Who would design such a thing?
She was very annoyed at him, too, for some reason. That was mystifying. He’d thought she’d recognized him instantly. She’d known his name, hadn’t she? And wasn’t it her request for a hotel? Didn’t that mean she wanted privacy with him? This was very mystifying, especially after the way she’d cleaved to him. Her entire body had been affixed to his during the journey here. Yet now she called him a dick-head who was too accustomed to using the wrong brain to think with?
There was a wrong brain, too?
He didn’t know the meaning of that, but it didn’t sound flattering. He’d figure it out later. She definitely piqued his intellect. Keeping up with her would present quite a challenge.
She was also a rarity. Even to his jaundiced viewpoint, she had a natural beauty. Her skin was translucent and clear. He didn’t know her eye color. She’d kept them squeezed shut since he met her. Maybe they matched her hair. He’d had a bit of contact with her hair as it came undone. It was honey-colored. Sweet-smelling. He told himself he didn’t care. He was only making an observation. His mate didn’t let her hair grow past her hips like Isabelle had. No. This woman kept her hair approximately the length of his. Mid-back, perhaps. She was also quite a bit shorter than Isabelle had been. His wife had been tall and willowy, blessed with an undisguised grace. This woman probably reached to his mid-chest. If she was standing on tip-toe.
Lest he forget, however, she was also very curvaceous. Soft in amazing places. Womanly. Probably moist...
Sebastian looked down as his loins stirred. Grew hard. Imperative. Uncontrollable.
She started talking again. S
ebastian looked over at the bathroom door as if caught in some illicit act. He sent the message to his groin to cease. It didn’t work. He watched his trousers distort outward with more than perplexity. This wasn’t what he remembered. Sebastian Cole wasn’t an unbridled youth on the precipice of manhood, undisciplined and randy. He’d been the warlord, Sebastian the Mighty. Leader of a great Bulgar tribe. He was strong in form and stronger in will. He could still prove it. He’d only been bested by one man. And that was in this afterlife: Akron Profit.
The power of this physical response wasn’t possible. Or warranted. And it wasn’t remotely wanted.
“Well. Might as well get this over with. Sebastian is going to rue the day he thought you were easy. Shoulders back, Girl. Deep breath. And...here goes.”
Sebastian pulled his sword from its scabbard and stabbed the tip into the floor before him. He placed both hands atop the hilt, strategically shielding his erection. He was just in time. He heard the lock click. Watched the handle turn. A moment later she yanked it open and stepped out, head back and eyes wide. Sebastian faced her wordlessly. She’d calmed some of the purple that had shaded one side of her face. And she had light ale-colored eyes. Beautiful eyes. They looked golden in the candlelight. They went wide as she looked over and up at him. Then her mouth dropped open to the same dimension. For some reason his back tensed, as if worried over what she might say.
Her mouth shut, she swiveled, and he’d never seen anyone rush back into a room as quickly as she re-entered the bathroom. The door slammed shut. The lock clicked in the tumbler. Sebastian cocked his head and listened.
“Holy shit, Jill! That is not Sebastian Rashe! Oh, balls! What have you gotten yourself into this time? No wonder you were envisioning a naked sculpture of him. That guy can’t be real. He can’t. He’s like... the Sebastian you know squared. No. He’s more like Sebastian to the third power. Ninth. Oh, Jill! What are you going to do now?”
She’d been envisioning him naked?
Sebastian broke into a grin at the awe-stained praise. And then he sobered. Wait a minute. What was she saying? She’d thought him a different Sebastian? The thought sent a new sensation pumping through his veins. It burned. Angered. And even that failed to dampen the annoyance of his arousal.
Lust had never been a problem.
It was now.
He lowered his chin, set his jaw, and looked about. There was a grouping of large, high-backed chairs situated next to a pseudo-fireplace. It wasn’t for burning real wood. Not in here. They were in the Oubliette Suite, well beneath the street level. He’d booked it because the Inferno and Midnight ones were already occupied. The walls were solid rock, covered with enormous tapestries in sunset hues. Expensive wooden furnishings decorated some of the space, while an enormous, four-poster bed sat atop a partition in one corner. This room had no resemblance to its namesake, other than the main access point, twenty feet above his head. In the ceiling. This room was named after the portion of a dungeon where they dropped prisoners in and forgot them. It was sound-proof. Extremely secure.
And very private.
This oubliette contained every luxury, and if one desired something more, there were all kinds of avenues to gain them. Every telephone connected to the front desk. There were electrical outlets and internet links. There was a power switch that lowered a ladder if he wished to use the ceiling aperture. There was even a real door, reached through an armoire. It led to an elevator shaft and stairs.
All told, it was perfect for what he’d selected it for: mating.
And now everything was changed. He’d gone on the supposition that she knew who he was and why they were here. Now, he had to regroup. Rein back. Strategize.
Sebastian crossed the redwood floor, grabbed up one of the chairs, and took it to the center of the room. He faced it to the bathroom door. And sat in it. He slid down into a slouched position. Stabbed his sword into the floor. Again. And then had to rearrange his crotch area to make necessary room.
This constant arousal was getting annoying.
The door handle turned. His mate stepped out again. Sebastian lifted one knee as he faced her. She’d splashed water on her face and hair, slicking the latter back behind her ears. Perhaps she was trying to look androgynous. It didn’t work. She looked even more womanly. Amazingly so. She narrowed her eyes next, shadowing their light brown shade and then she pursed her lips.
A solid tremor scored him, starting at his scalp, running along his spine, shooting through his legs, and then it came back the same route. He was powerless against it. It even made his sword waver, sending flicks of light about the area. He tightened his hand on the hilt, even as he knew it was too late. She put her hands on her hips. That gave definition to what looked like an hourglass figure beneath her ill-fitting clothing. Sebastian barely caught the groan.
“All right. You’ve had your fun. Who are you, really?” she asked.
He heard it despite the fact that his ears were ringing. He’d never experienced such a thing. This was going beyond annoying. It was irritating. Maddening. He cleared his throat.
“I told you my name. Sebastian.”
“Okay. Fine. What comes next? What is your last name?”
“Oh. Cole. I am Sebastian Cole. Your mate.”
Her mouth opened. She held that position for a few seconds, and then her lips clamped shut and she ran back into the bathroom. The door slammed shut. The lock clicked closed again. Sebastian regarded it. This time, his newly awakened heart was pumping more than heat through him. It was sending little sparks. He’d never felt that kind of thing, either. It almost overrode hearing her next words.
“Yourmate? What kind of last name is that? I’ve heard some ridiculous-sounding French names, but... this takes the cake, Jill. Yourmate. That has to be what he meant. He didn’t say the other. He couldn’t. He didn’t.”
Sebastian pulled in a heavy breath and expelled it with a loud sigh. Wait a moment...
He could actually sigh?
Merde!
An instant surge of something went through him, pushing liquid warmth through his veins. He grinned. He almost gave vent to the laughter, but years of self-control stopped him. This was incredible! Amazing! He’d been without any sensation for so many centuries he’d forgotten how it felt to simply pull in a lungful of air. And just like that, it came back?
He stood. Pulled his sword up, ignoring the notch of wood that came with it. And then he regarded that door. The only thing separating him and perfection. It was shorter than he. It was nothing. A simple piece of wood. With a flimsy lock. He was halfway to the door before she spoke again.
“You know, Jill, before you read him the riot act, and stomp out, you should at least look at his side. And what you’re walking out on. I mean, Mister Yourmate out there does send your pulse into overdrive. And did you see that upper body? Holy shit. I mean, really. So he’s not the cataphile Sebastian who ran off and left you. What loss is that? How long had you known him, anyway? A few hours?”
Sebastian knocked. Her voice stopped.
“Yes?”
“Open the door, Jill.”
He lowered his head and sent as much of his mesmeric powers as he could through it. There was silence for a count of ten. He knew. He’d been counting.
“How do you know my name?”
His power wasn’t working? What twist of fate was this?
He stepped closer to the offending piece of wood and lowered his nose to the top crack of light coming from it. “You talk to yourself.”
“Oh. I am not that loud.”
“I have excellent hearing,” he replied.
“Oh, no way. No frickin’ way.”
He sighed again. Loudly. At length. He could get really fond of being able to do that.
“My last name is not Yourmate, Jill. It’s Cole. And I’ll repeat myself since you misunderstood. I am your mate.”
He used the full range of his voice. Items in the room behind him rattled with the reverberation, as well
as sundry toiletry items still unseen in the bathroom beyond this damn door. It took several moments before she spoke again.
“Are you on drugs?”
Well. He’d been right. She was entertaining. “Would you just open the door?” he asked.
“Why?”
“Because I want to talk to you.”
“Oh. You hear so well, why is that an issue?”
Sebastian bumped his head into the doorjamb. Twice. Three times. That smarted slightly. He’d forgotten.
“Knocking harder is not going to get you in here,” she replied.
“Please open the door, Jill. I only wish to talk. I promise.”
“Nothing more?”
“Well... not unless you allow it.”
“How am I supposed to believe that?”
Sebastian regarded the top of the door, the little slip of light he could just sense, the feel of her... so close!
“Because I could easily break through this door. And I haven’t,” he replied.
“Oh.”
There was a brief silence. His heart actually stopped before resuming. Sebastian sighed again. This time it was heavy. Almost defeated.
“I just want to talk to you. And I want to see you at the same time. Be near you. It’s important. You don’t understand.”
He hadn’t, either. Not until right now. Being near her was very important. Out here was the equivalent of his afterlife: Lonely. The little room beyond this door contained everything that mattered.
“You’re not some murderous psycho, are you?”
His eyebrows lifted. “No.”
“How am I supposed to trust you on that?”
“If I was, I would have had ample opportunity for murder in the catacombs, wouldn’t I? And a much better chance of anonymity. You trusted me then.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Please,” he said next.
“Oh, Jill. This is so stupid.”
She spoke to herself. He held his breath. His newly awakened heart beat loud and strong through his ears as he waited. And then... finally! He heard the click as she released the lock.
