by Jackie Ivie
He took another step, looming right above her, and that was too much gorgeous male in her field of view. Or she was more overcome than she knew. He was definitely leaning toward a ten on her scale. And then some.
“Retained...what?”
His eyes were incredibly hypnotic. Mesmeric. A shade of silver that had an ice-blue tint. He had amazing eyes. Stunning eyes. Eyes that sucked her right in and then held her.
“What matters. It isn’t power. Or palaces. Or position.”
“Um.”
Crap. She really needed to find a vocabulary here. It should be embarrassing. It wasn’t. The atmosphere around them was alive with something. A chasm of emotion. A river of tension. A field of sensual existence. And his eyes were starting to glow. Evie licked her lips.
“Your eyes, are they all right?”
He smiled. It put his perfect kissable lips on display. But something looked slightly weird, as well. She would have broken her stare with him and dropped her glance to verify it, but she didn’t quite dare.
“I usually have better command of it. Wait.”
His eyes flashed again and then altered. Right before her eyes. Evie was wide-eyed as she watched the silver finish change back to his ice-blue shade. And his pupils looked enormous.
“Command...of what?”
“Everything. But I am not a man of words. I am a man of action.” He took the final step, and then he went to his knees, placing him at her eye level.
“Command of...what?” she asked again, although the last word was a whisper.
She shook herself mentally. And then she did it physically. She felt like she was just coming awake. Or something stranger. It was like she hadn’t been entirely controlling her body...or her mind. And then she recognized it. She’d felt this way before. During a hypnotist’s session on weight reduction that her mother had sent her to when she reached puberty.
“Purgatory sure is strange,” Evie commented.
“You are not in purgatory.”
“How do you know? You’re probably not even Christian.”
“Most religions have a state between life and final destination. You are right. I followed Zoroastrianism. It wouldn’t matter. You are not in purgatory but pairi-daeza, my love.”
“I have to be. Nothing else makes sense. And—what did you just call me?”
His smiled widened. Something was really strange about his smile. She couldn’t quite place it, even if she wasn’t mesmerized in place this time.
“You heard me correctly, Evie. You are my love. That is what eshq-e man means.”
She shook her head.
He put a hand out, palm up. “Here. Take my hand.”
“Why?” Evie looked from his hand to his face and back again.
“So I can cease speaking, and start showing. Take my hand. Please?”
“Um...” She swallowed.
“The mate bond is very strong, eshq-e man. It is an undeniable force. A power beyond time. A pairi-daeza beyond description. Few receive it. Few deserve to. I do not know by what right I gained it. I only know that I have. I was wrong. I only had a harem because palaces have them. I do not need one. I do not need all this space. I do not need anything...except you.”
His eyes flashed again. Evie caught her breath and then she gave him her hand.
Everything went crazy. The world rocked, her chair became loose sand that kept shifting, and a bolt of light and sound and heat shot through the room. Or something close. It lifted strands of her hair before joining with a large rush of air that pulsed outward from them, swaying columns, and extinguishing light after light until the room became a huge hollow space illuminated by the throne dais where Daron knelt, and she somehow, still sat.
Nothing about the experience was painful, either. It was the opposite. Evie had never felt such bliss. Thrill. Amazement.
Daron was gripping her hand, arched backwards, and the deepest howl was emanating from him. It launched out into the darkness about them before returning in throbs of sound that echoed and re-echoed with a bestial sound. Primal. Electrifying. Far from frightening her, it added more excitement to the mix, elevating absolutely everything. Her heart ramped into hard heavy beats within her ribcage, her breath came in gasps, her eyes were wide. She was glued to the sight as he finished his cry, straightened, and faced her again. That’s when she noted what was weird with his mouth. Everything stalled for the longest moment. Evie stared at long, spiked, holy-shit-those-can’t-be-real...fangs.
Fangs?
He said something. She didn’t hear it over the loud, swooshing sound of water running through both ears. Her eyes couldn’t seem to move, either. Not even to blink. This wasn’t possible. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t prudent. Why was she rooted in place, while shivers ran her flesh? Those shivers weren’t remotely unpleasant, either. It felt like her skin had developed a rash and he was the cure. The salve. The necessary unguent.
And she wanted more.
Her move connected them. She slid from the chair right onto his thighs. Her arms wrapped about his neck, her fingers delved through his hair, grasping strands, so she could hold. And it was her mouth meeting his, her lips sucking at his, her tongue meshing with his. Tangling. Melding. She didn’t need to hear the moan that surged through them. It resonated through their chests, whether from his throat or hers. Or a combination.
A prick of pain slipped through her consciousness. Had he bitten her? But before she could give the question any thought, the most incredible sensation overcame her. It came in waves, washing over her. Possessing her. Claiming her. Akin to having warmed oil poured onto her nakedness. Warm. Scented. Perfect.
“Eshq-e man.”
The word accompanied his lips as he slid them from her mouth, along her chin, to the pulse point on her throat, sending more shivers racing from wherever he touched. Evie gasped. And felt him stabbing into her neck. Liquid ecstasy erupted from the spot. Erasing this existence and then overwriting it.
She might as well have wings. Corporeal existence dimmed to be replaced with fantasy. Desire. Dreams. She could have sworn they were flying, nearly touching the obscene height of the ceiling before descending. And through it all, the intense pleasure emitting from her neck just kept pulsing.
They landed somewhere with a bounce. Evie’s back met softness. Luxury. And support. She’d lost her cloak. Her sandals. Her senses. Wait. She still possessed the latter. She slit an eye open to view about an acre of dark-shaded satin. And still Daron sent bliss atop bliss with whatever he was doing to her neck.
“Where...are we?”
Evie had to swallow to get her voice to work. It also removed the suction from her neck. And it immediately felt like loss. Physically. And emotionally. She had an insane urge to weep. She focused on the sensation of his tongue on her skin, instead. Sending impulses as he kissed. Adored. Laved. He shifted to his knees before her. The structure swayed as he tossed his robe off, chucking it somewhere behind him. He wore another one beneath the first. He shoved that from his shoulders, too. And then he yanked a long tunic shirt over his head, to send it onto the pile of clothing behind him somewhere.
...and holy shit.
She couldn’t believe she’d had him down to a seven-point-five. With his physique, she should have started at fifteen. Prince Daron was lean. Very ripped. And absolutely fascinating. Evie knew better. She should do something. Get her condom packet. No. Wait. She’d left it in the harem place.
She’d left a lot back there.
Common sense. Reality. Rationale. Logic.
None of that helped when she was facing...what was the foreign word he’d used? The one that didn’t need a translation? Oh Yes. Pairi-daeza. Paradise. It was exactly that. She was being hastened into a paradise that contained warmth. Sensual need. Highly addictive craving. Desire. And want. She thirsted, and he was liquid nourishment. She sought breath, and he was air. The passion-imbued aura surrounding them was reality. It even had a color. Red-hot, fading to gold. Necessary.
She watched her own hand reach for his abs. And it was shaking.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The moment her fingers connected with his belly, Daron reacted. His muscles involuntarily twitched as her fingers became her entire hand and then the other one. She didn’t understand the power she wielded. He wasn’t certain, at first, that he could absorb it. Her first touch had awakened the beast within him. This caress set it free. There wasn’t any way to contain it. She carried mystery in her eyes. Passion with each breath. Electrifying heat with her every touch.
Her hands spread about his upper chest, her fingers skidding along his skin, and everywhere she went his muscles reacted. Tightening. Releasing. Her lips were open slightly, sending little pants of breath onto him. By the gods! She was unique. Unbelievable! She created a perfection that altered the senses. He’d never felt anything like this. Ever. Had he received these sensations in his natural life, he’d have remembered.
And he wanted more.
Daron leaned forward, capturing and then embracing her waist. His hands were trembling as he ran his fingers up her sides and delved beneath her bodice...and oh! By the god, Ahura-Mazda! Nigel had been completely wrong. Daron’s mate didn’t have really nice breasts. She didn’t have anything really nice. She was incredibly perfect. Everywhere. Daron’s hands cupped and massaged, bringing her nipples to hard darts that shot spikes of sensation through his palms. She wasn’t passive. She was arching and writhing, and adding fuel where it wasn’t remotely needed.
And then she opened her eyes. Daron lurched in reaction, ripping her bodice, and if he’d thought she felt perfect, the sight was beyond description. Beyond comprehension.
“Wow. Daron. I could do...laundry on these.”
She’d run a hand down his belly, before she’d tucked her fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers.
Laundry?
Was that a good thing?
She started sliding her hand to and fro, sending all kinds of stimuli just about everywhere. He ceased caring whether she complimented him or not. And then her tongue slipped out, licking at her lower lip. A roar of sound went right through his ears. Daron shook his head to clear it. It didn’t do much.
She’d moved her other hand now, wrapping it about the fabric at his waist. And the knuckles grazing his belly were taking over his existence. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t command anything. Or control. Or manage. She found his trouser ties at the side. Daron’s entire frame went ramrod stiff and tense. He could barely move his gaze down to hers.
“Problems?” she asked.
“Yes. Many.” Was that truly his voice? Gruff. Harsh.
“Can I help?”
“I...do not wish to hurt you,” he replied.
She gave a short laugh. His entire body flexed against his hold. Her merriment was enough to start sand dervishes.
“Oh. I sincerely doubt you have anything that big and scary, Daron. Although I am very intrigued to find out. Very.”
She pulled on one end of the bow, releasing the waistband of his trousers. The material sloughed down before stopping on his erection. That’s when she noticed, gave a gasp and brought her gaze back to his. Her eyes were wide, her lips curved, and she was openly panting. She’d missed his meaning completely. But...she wasn’t a maid? The knowledge should have angered him...but that was before he’d found her. Now, all that mattered was being with her. Joining together with her. Fusing. Melding. The fact that he didn’t have to worry over causing hurt was causing more than havoc through him.
It was threatening every bit of his control.
“Um. Is that...real?”
Her voice was stained with what sounded like awe. Daron preened. And he was grinning. He didn’t even care if his canines were on full display.
“You know...Daron...uh. Maybe I was a bit hasty. But, if that’s really all you?”
He shoved his pants to his knees, releasing his pulsing pride. She squealed, and moved so rapidly the mattress beneath them rocked. And then she was on her knees facing him, and she looked as impressed as she sounded.
“Holy shit, Daron. I mean...holy shit!”
She reached for him. Slid her hand down him. And that sent a blizzard of sparks right to his fuse.
A bonfire roared into existence around them. It was fueled by passion. Lust. Excitement. Daron could swear he felt flames. Heard fire. Sensed massive heat. Her bodice was the first casualty. It was hanging by strips of cloth about her neck. He shoved it over her shoulders and out of his way. Her loose-fitting, see-through trousers were next. Daron grabbed the fabric at her hips, and ripped outward. She seemed to know exactly what he needed, and exactly what to do. Thank the gods. He was ready to howl with frustrated and withheld need. He needed to be buried. He needed to be within her. Now.
She shimmied onto her perfect butt, wrapped her legs about him, and was more than directing. She was making certain of his aim, her hand guiding, and moving aside just as Daron grabbed her hips, and rammed. Hard. Unbelievable moistness enveloped and squeezed him. Tight. Hot. He’d never felt anything like this. Ever. He worked in deeper, shuddering with every bit of gained space. It was better than incredible. Beyond amazing. Joining with his mate was a force of nature and it was massive. Strong. Powerful.
And she was there, right with him, wrapping her legs about his hips. Instinctively matching a rhythm that had explosive force behind it. Her legs gripped about him, pulling every thrust deeper, giving just a bit for his withdrawal. Gripping for the return thrusts. Flexing again for his withdrawals. She rolled when he did, her legs locked tightly, maintaining the rhythm even as they swiveled back. This was beyond imagination. More amazing than paradise. And when she achieved pleasure, her screams resembled throes of musical notes to his ears. He wanted it again. And again. Each time, his heart thumped in heavy beats along with hers. His lungs tightened. His throat constricted. And his efforts increased.
He called her his love. His woman. His mate. His heart. His reason. His sanity. His missing half. And when he ran out of words to describe what she meant to him, he delivered his emotion with his body, and with kisses. Soul-deep kisses that carried love, and life, and wonder. Tension ratcheted higher, taking him with it. Daron pushed up, gaining position, power. Strength. His movements increased. Getting wilder. Harder. And going deeper. Exquisite pressure built within his spine. Intimate. Fiery. And then it moved, lancing through him, reaching his groin, and Daron exploded.
Ecstasy slammed through him. His heart became a caged entity. His breath stalled. He barely heard her accompanying cry. He was shuddering. And emptying. And sobbing. He also had them hovering well above the mattress, doing a slow spin as absolute wonder poured over and through him. It controlled everything. It even erased time. He held her tightly to him and lowered them back to the satin covered bed. Close to his heart. Meshed. Enjoined.
He couldn’t believe he’d been this lucky.
He’d gained the one thing that mattered.
As far as he was concerned, she was worth every second of the twenty-four hundred year wait.
CHAPTER NINE
He watched her sleep. Seconds became minutes and then they blended into hours. He built his palaces underground for several reasons. This particular one was his latest recreation, and it truly was his favorite. He’d recreated the other Persian palaces as well. Pasargadae, Persepolis, Susa, and Babylon were all deep underground in various arid locations of the globe. Hidden and secure. That was one reason his palaces were underground. They were immense. They were covered with gold and silver. That is how a Persian prince stored wealth. In plain sight. Any one of his rooms could be dismantled and melted into bars of purest silver or gold, while the gems embedded into the walls would fetch a good price from any jeweler. Having such wealth meant protecting it. Building each palace far beneath the earth’s surface was an excellent security measure.
Another reason was the solitude and quiet. He could hear any of the numerous fountains in the complex as water gurgled and dripped, f
orever recycling. And right now, as he watched Evelyn, he could hear every breath. If he concentrated he could hear her heart beating. Or maybe it was his? It didn’t matter. They shared the same heart beat. The same breath. They might even share the same pain.
And the same joys.
But the main reason he built his palaces far beneath the earth’s crust was because it obscured the passage of time. If one didn’t know day or night, yesterday from today, whether it was midwinter or the height of summer heat, then one didn’t care. One night followed the next in an endless cycle. At first, immortality had been a supreme gift of the gods. He’d roamed the planet at night, feasting. Fighting. Challenging any braggart and conquering without remorse. He took any assassination that Akron offered up. And once he discovered immunity to sunlight came with age, he’d searched out and fought in battles. Any battle. Any war. Just for the sensation of feeling alive again.
And when that failed, he’d turned to improving his mind. He’d learned every spoken language, and some that had disappeared. When printing had first started, he’d devoured everything he could get his hands on, until reading grew insipid and boring. Then, it was the invention of radio waves. Television. The internet. Immediate access to virtually anything. And even those grew boring over time. He rarely turned on any of his technology anymore. It didn’t work. Nothing had worked for any length of time at alleviating the endless span of his existence.
Until he somehow found her.
Evelyn.
His mate.
She opened an eye as is if he’d called to her. Oh! She had eyes of a beautiful blue-green shade. Deep as any ocean, clear as any pool. Her other eye opened. And then she smiled. Daron returned it.
“Hi,” she said, clearing her throat. “Wow. I usually don’t sound like a frog in the morning. Um. It is morning, isn’t it?”
“I am not certain,” he replied.
“Oh. Okay. Man! Do I ever feel fantastic!”
She stretched, dislodging some of the satin sheet that covered them. Daron pulled in his cheeks as he considered her.
