by Billi Jean
“And his shy sister? What of her? Is she a warrior as well?” He meant it as a joke, but it fell flat as Evie’s attention zeroed in on him. He’d never tasted the lush curves of her lips, but then he’d never been attracted to women of power. Not that she looked like an Amazon. She barely reached his pecs. But the swirl of authority in her heavily glamourized eyes spoke of a strength that always brought out the worst in him.
“Maeve is…special. I believe unique.”
“Does that mean she’s in a sped program? I heard that it’s not PC to say retarded now, so they say special, unique, so on.”
Evie didn’t narrow her eyes or show any outward sign of anger, but the air between them grew frosty. He didn’t bother holding in his grin. He loved a battle. Anything was better than the forced holding pattern she’d shoved them into. She walked over until she stood in his bubble of space, until less than two inches separated them.
“Narc, isn’t it?”
“You know it is.” He spent enough money at her club to own stock. She damn well knew his name, probably his birth date. “Unless you prefer Stephano, Evie.”
“Ah, yes, Stephano. That is your true name, is it not?”
He smiled. “I prefer Narc. It suits me better than the self-centered god.”
She didn’t return his smile, but held his stare coldly. Something in her gaze contemplated him in ways he didn’t like. It was almost as if she found him…unattractive. The thought surprised him. Women sought him out, even wrote songs about him, left roses on his door, all in the hope to have one more time with him.
“Yes, of course it does.” There, again in her tone, he heard it, the clear contempt, as if he were soiled, dirty. She swept to Ajax and Alrick, giving the two younger wolves a quick inspection before her focus landed on Alrick. “She will see you first, Alrick. It would be best. If you can convince her, perhaps the others will be an easier sell.”
“Sell? Why should we—”
“She is one,” Evie snapped over the top of his words, “of only two individuals that have made it to the crossing and back. Successfully. Her brother is the other. He will not go without her, and in fact, without her, he cannot open the way.”
“Or you could by letting us use your way.” Stephano crossed his arms when Evie’s gaze once again landed on him.
“The way I use is closed to you. Believe me, Stephano, one such as you could never use it.”
The witch! He dropped his arms and stomped toward her. “One such as—”
“Enough!” Ajax snarled.
Stephano cursed under his breath.
“Narc, take a walk. We’re almost home, back to your routine. Get that through your head. Go and straighten out.” Ajax didn’t bellow, but he didn’t have to. More than anyone else, Ajax knew where to hit him. What could he say? It was comforting to know he knew what his days and nights would be like. After centuries of unknowns, he’d grown attached to his LA mansion and reality TV. He’d had enough in each battle he fought without everything else being all fucked up, too.
He stalked out of the room, out through the dimly lit and deserted common room, and out the door. He was down the muddy street and beyond the guard posts lining the walls of the rickety old town before he even knew where he was headed. The forest surrounded him and gradually the heat of his anger eased. It was much longer before he could bring himself to turn around and head back to the town. Even then he dreaded each step that brought him closer to the confinement of the people traveling with him. He hung back, resting his shoulder on a darkened building opposite the tavern.
The common room still gave off a slight glow, but it was a candle in the window of a room next to it that drew his attention. A figure moved to the curtain, drawing the pale fabric aside to reveal a small face.
A woman. She tucked her mink-brown hair behind one delicate ear and ducked her head. Nervous? She responded to something someone was saying and a worried frown pulled at her smooth, beautiful brow, drawing her eyebrows down adorably.
She was dressed in the fashions of this world, in clothing common hundreds of years ago in his. A gown, pale in color with a modest round neckline and flowing skirts. Her hair was down, except for where she’d gathered it up away from her face much as Aubrey, the witch they’d saved from this world, wore hers. Except on this girl it kept slipping forward in a shiny wave when she bent her head to fall over her shoulder and obscure her features. She was obviously not one of the working girls. She was much too…innocent for that.
Her lips were the lightest shade of pink, but clearly defined against the cream of her complexion. The contrast of her dark hair to her flawless skin was exquisite.
He’d been with countless women, but they were all a blur of blonde, black, red, brown, auburn hair cut in so many styles, with so many features, and so many of them beautiful that he couldn’t pinpoint one who compared to this girl. Without a doubt in his mind he knew this one, this small, striking woman would forever remain etched in his mind.
She’s sad. The thought made a strange burn occur in his throat and chest. He rubbed his chest, unsure why he thought such a thing. But she was. Sad and lonely. Alone. Even if she was speaking to someone, she was on her own. It was clear in the anxious gestures, already familiar as she pushed that silky hair back behind her ear where it fell forward again within seconds of her moving it.
She shifted to the side and his attention caught on her outline. All he’d focused on were the contours of her face, the small shell ears and pert little nose, with the pink softness of her lips, and deep secrets hidden there. Now he realized there was more—much more. His groin hardened. She had her hands in her gown, by her thighs, so that the silver-blue material pulled an outline he was certain she didn’t realize gave him a clear idea of her bottom and the rounded globes of her breasts.
She dropped her hold on her skirts and walked out of sight, toward someone else.
He was moving and had the door open before he knew he’d crossed the street. He barreled in past the door. In his haste he ran into something sweet-smelling and soft that emitted a startled squeal and clutched at his biceps.
The beauty in the window.
The thought was coupled with her small body falling perfectly into his arms. Only he had been reaching out to catch her and found himself slipping backward as his boot slid on a rug he didn’t remember being by the door.
He landed on his back with a loud thud.
The woman from the window fell on him with another soft cry.
His breath left him on a gasp. Not because her knee contacted with his groin—that merely drove home she was real—but because every glorious inch of her was pressed to every hard inch of him, including the pillow softness of her breasts against his face as she wiggled to free herself.
Without thinking of what he was doing, he caught at her tiny waist and held her in place. She’d managed to twist downward, but now instead of her bosom in his face, she stared breathlessly down at him. Her eyes—a gorgeous hazel almost amber—rounded in surprise. There was no hiding the heady pleasure he experienced, or the hard length of his erection pressing into her stomach. Something like elation rose. He felt as if it swallowed his pain and doused his heat, but built a fire he was far more familiar with in his groin. Deep down in his core he experienced another thud as something fit into that place that had been empty since he could remember.
Chapter Two
“If I’d known all I needed to do was open the door and you’d fall into my arms, I’d have returned long ago.”
The man’s teasing words caught Maeve by surprise, but his too-familiar grip on her didn’t. She’d not missed his body’s reaction, nor the way he’d shrugged off her knee connecting with his delicate male groin. She scurried off him, her skirts a tangle of fabric that made it difficult and her actions feeble and awkward. Dizzy and unsure, she battled to gain control of her frantic heartbeat.
“Here.” He rose in one graceful lunge, pulling her with him. His grip was careful, his ha
nd warm but rough with callouses. As soon as he had her on her feet he caressed her hand and grinned at her. She was certain such an expression was meant to melt even the most reluctant of females, but her insides grew cold. “There now, no need to hurry off, sweet.”
She pulled her hand, trying to break free as panic built in her throat, stopping her cry for help.
Where is Brennan? Evie? She managed to free one hand, only to have him snatch her other with a playful grin. He brought it to his lips with another heart-stopping grin. The softness and warmth of his lips shocked her into freezing again.
“Don’t be shy. I promise I’m as gentle as a lamb.”
The words were at such odds to the size of him, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. For the first time, she looked at him, really, truly saw him. Her heart skittered like when she’d worn socks on the icy pond behind their home as a child.
He was gorgeous. Even in the dim light from the common room’s banked hearth, she could see that immediately. His chiseled features were even, roughened by his life, she assumed, but no less pleasing. More so she thought as she let her gaze roam over the pleasing contours. His eyes were wide set, large and framed with dark lashes under shaggy brows. Even his lips were attractive, the bottom one ever so slightly fuller. His dark eyebrows lent a roguish cast, almost as if he possessed a secret about her no one else knew. The rough, dark bristle on his face merely accentuated the manliness of him. This was a man who was more than ready to prove how capable he was of making her scream in pleasure.
If the gods hadn’t given him enough with a face that made her heart tremble, they had also bestowed upon him broad shoulders, and a wide, hard chest she knew from falling on him was all muscle. His biceps expanded and drew the eye, especially when he lifted his arms and crossed them over his chest. The position highlighted his trim waist and the bulge visible under his tight leather breeches.
Back to his face, she felt numb and prickly, as if every nerve was wide awake. The sensations were disconcerting, but didn’t stop her from scanning him for some defect. There were none. Even his cocked brow and wide grin were perfect, signaling that he knew how good he looked and appreciated that she’d taken the time to notice.
Shocked at the realization, and her behavior, she tried to back up with what she hoped was a pleasant but not welcoming smile. He stopped her before she’d taken two steps with a grip on her upper arm that was gentle but firm. She felt the heat of his hand as if he’d touched her bare flesh in other, more secret areas.
“Now, here, let me see if you suffered any harm.” His tone was low and intimate.
She immediately cowered from him, breaking contact to put a chair between them. At his wolfish grin, she decided the table was a better choice, especially when he merely tossed the heavy chair aside in his advance. He laughed, a beautiful sound that sent a confusing tingle down her body. A small part of her felt on fire, while the other part shivered in cold dread. Her reactions were as startling as his. Who is this man?
“Ah, now, don’t make it hard. I love a chase, you see. It makes it worth the wait, but right now, I would like something much…softer. I’m already hard enough, sweet.”
At the reference to his groin, a shiver raced along her skull, down her breasts and zipped to her inner thighs. It didn’t stop but lingered, heating her core as if he had some magical power to turn her into the sexual being every man fantasized about.
She raced for the safety of the larger, central table. He almost caught her. He laughed again when he missed. With the table between them, he dodged to the right as she moved left, then left when she went right. Her heart did an odd bumpity-bump.
Before she could decide what to do, he picked up the table and heaved it completely aside. She doubted that particular piece of furniture had ever been moved. There were cleaner squares where the legs of it had stood.
His strength was stunning. As was his attention.
For one brief second, she imaged what it would be like to let him catch her. To have him. To know him intimately the way only a woman knew a man. The image her mind came up with was murky, but the idea sent a shiver down her spine. Never before had she thought of letting a man have her, or of having one for herself.
Until now. The knowledge scared her into action. She spun for the door, thrusting a chair in his path, but only getting another wicked laugh as he leapt over it. He landed perfectly on his feet. Breathless she scooted to the side, not daring to turn her back on him.
“Now, sweet, is that nice?” He cut her off easily enough that she knew he’d been playing with her before. He was laughing, appearing so pleased with himself she couldn’t react.
Turning with her, he cushioned her back with his arm as he pushed her gently, but firmly up against a wall. His breathing deepened, and his gaze pinned on her lips, then her bosom and back to her lips then eyes. She couldn’t help but notice how soft and plump his lips were or how perfect they appeared.
Without saying a word, he firmly rested his thigh between her legs. She was lifted and her hands gently stretched over her head. He did it so slowly, she had plenty of time to stop him, but she couldn’t. Scared, but not terrified, she waited, unsure how she felt. I should be scared. I should be running. Instead she felt…excited. Who is this man?
Surprising her even more, he simply stared at her then rested his forehead on hers, staring deep into her eyes. She let him. Something clicked into place, startling her at the rightness of his body along hers. Stunned, she couldn’t process all that was happening. She was straddling his thigh. The position pressed his leg tight to her intimately. It felt like all her life she’d never known, never understood, what it was that made women want a man.
Now she knew.
It was…this.
Sensations trickled up her body from where his warm thigh rested against her. It was shocking. She bit her lip, otherwise she might have moaned aloud. Her inner muscles tightened, and for the first time a wave of pleasure erupted deep, deep inside. He shifted and the effect grew. His heat, his scent—leather, horses and sweat should have been distasteful, but she wanted to tuck her nose to his neck and breathe him in.
He pushed forward a fraction, but the wave of excitement blossomed higher. Even her fingers tingled. She bit her lip to hold in a moan she was certain she shouldn’t make.
As if he knew anyway, he growled low in his throat. The sound vibrated between them. It did incredible things to her body. Her face heated but even though she fought embarrassment, the pleasure grew. He shifted his thigh, clearing knowing what he was doing because the tingles grew. The fear he must be able to feel how hot and damp he was making her couldn’t douse the growing thrill of having him so close. Maybe nothing will. Maybe I will climax. What will it feel like, to feel this, with him, deeply possessing me? Filling me?
The thought didn’t scare her as much as it should have. Instead she waited, wondering what he would do next.
He didn’t speak. He gazed into her eyes, not moving, not rubbing up against her the way she suddenly hoped. Instead he studied her face, as if he sought something. Whatever it was, she must not have given it because his frown pulled his amazing lips into a pout. He smelled like wilderness mixed with a hint of leather, horses and the pine trees from her childhood.
“What I’d give to know what you’re thinking, sweet.” If she could have answered, he robbed the ability as he clenched his thigh. The thick muscles pushed against her, making her trembles grow. He did it again. Her hips arched on their own, seeking more friction. No one had ever done this before. Men never did this, they tried—
“Maeve? ‘Aeve?”
Head touching hers, she didn’t miss the way his eyes narrowed or how his hands tightened on hers. Fear suddenly overcame the pleasure. I can’t do this! I can’t allow this! He’ll hurt me. She could feel the size of him, had seen the bulge, felt the hard evidence against her stomach when she’d landed on him.
“I hope that’s not your lover, sweet.” At his shocking words, he
forced his thigh tighter between her legs, which placed his erection firmly to her clit. Delicious stimulation rushed to her toes and back again. It must have felt as wonderful for him as well. The world disappeared. He groaned and caught her answering moan with a kiss.
Lights shimmered behind her closed eyes and for one long, intense moment she hung there, helpless as his warm, fast breath mingled with hers. Gone was the fear and uncertainty. It evaporated like mist under the hot sun. His hard body heated hers, making her shiver uncontrollably with need. She burned. In places she’d always touched alone, away from anyone that might hear her, she felt a rising pleasure. A sigh escaped her lips as it spiraled into tighter circles.
A hungry growl rumbled from him, then he surged against her, rolling his erection perfectly along her mound. A more urgent sound escaped her. As if in response, he became more aggressive, driving his tongue along hers as he meshed their bodies with wilder abandon.
The world resurfaced with startling clarity, dissolving the impending climax. Fear swamped her. She pushed against his firm chest, trying to get away. Her hands slid along his muscles uselessly. He stopped her, forcing her to stay for his kiss with a harsh grip on her bottom and hair. Both hurt. He frightened her. His mouth took hers with bruising intensity. She broke away, gasping for air.
“Yes, feel it.” He began to grunt in deeper satisfaction as he thrust. The sound was dark and dangerous. She knew what would be next.
He thrust a hand down between them.
She blinked, staring blindly at the deserted common room beyond his shoulder. He would tear his breeches off, force her, make her take him—No!
She pushed on his chest and bit his lip as hard as she could, tasting blood. He gave a startled bellow and fell back, hand to his mouth, eyes narrowed. The sound of boots approaching had her straightening her gown and brushing the back of her hand against her lips to wipe off the blood.
Brennon rushed in, his sword in his hand. Two of the men she’d met earlier at his back. It felt like a lifetime ago she’d spoken with them. Evie entered after, much slower but with an unreadable expression. None of them mattered. Only the man facing her mattered. What will he do now? Hurt me? Hurt them as he tries to reach me?
