by Jackie Ivie
These tunnels weren’t just black. They were frickin’ scary.
She wasn’t staying another second longer than she had to in them. But... which way? She couldn’t just run pell-mell through here. The ceilings had been low in some places, palatial in others. And she didn’t know how many turns and twists they’d taken. They even had to crawl through one section one-at-a-time. But... there had been an exit that way. And no arrangements of skeletons.
Which was the major issue at the moment. She didn’t think she could die of a panic attack at her age, but she didn’t want it tested. Running into the empire of the dead was completely off limits.
She started back the direction she thought they’d entered, skimming the fingers of one hand along the wall while the other hand was atop her head, checking for height. And the eye with the contact would not quit watering up as it felt like each dust speck got sucked in for torment purposes.
Well. Looked like she had another measurement for stupid.
Something loomed before her, spurring more dust. She sensed size. Solidity. Threat. And it was breathing.
The next second she was screaming. And that just made it easier to find her mouth and cover it.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Cesser!”
The word was hissed at her ear. It was in French, but it probably meant stop. Or cease. Or something close. It was in a fairly harsh tone, too. Lifting more than goose bumps, it sent solid shivers racing over her skin. Even her nipples joined the fray. She’d never felt such a thing. Every cell on her body seemed to react, sending little spikes of heat through her veins. For several moments, she was in a state of something impossible to define. Was she vibrating? No. More like transfixed in place. Powerless. Stunned.
“Comprehende vous?”
She figured that out without much help. Did she comprehend?
He had to ask?
She wasn’t stupid but she was in the worst possible position. Vulnerable and available. Easily assaulted. The perfect victim for a crime of opportunity. Of course she understood. She sure hoped he didn’t expect capitulation, however, because he’d picked the wrong woman. And just like that, her immobility ceased. Jill kicked, twisted, and even butted her head against him. It all ended with her getting lifted and clamped against what felt like a really broad, muscled, bare chest. Or a wall. And he was only using one arm? That made it worse somehow.
He started hissing more words in her ear, using a very sexy accent. On the third burst of words he finally hit English. And he spoke above the gruff whisper.
“Comprehende? Arrettez de vous batter! Cease that! Understand? Stop fighting me!”
She only knew one male in Paris with such a baritone voice. She stopped struggling. The hand atop her mouth relaxed just slightly. “Sebastian?” she whispered.
“Yes. That is my name. Yes.”
She hadn’t known relief was a tangible force, physically draining and charged with emotion. She’d say the fight went out of her, but that was too cliché. Jill turned into a mass of absolute mush that barely kept from bursting into sobs. She put both hands atop where his forearm was wrapped about her ribcage and tried to mute the sensation. It didn’t succeed. She was doing what she hated most here – turning into a vapid, helpless female. Furthermore, she was making him hold up dead weight of about one hundred and forty pounds. And that’s what she weighed on a good day. He wasn’t having any trouble, either. He wasn’t even trembling at the effort.
“Wow, Sebastian! Thank goodness! For a moment there, I was really scared! And just when I give up hope, you’re there. Just like you promised. I take back everything I thought. I do.”
“You are... English?” he asked.
That was a stupid question. All of them were from the States. Hadn’t somebody already asked that? Or maybe he thought he held Daisha. That was a deflating thought. Daisha was exotic-enough to pass for something not created in the US of A.
“I’m still American. Can we get out of here now?”
“Now?”
“You can get us out of here, can’t you?”
“Most assuredly.”
“And then you can get me to the hotel?”
He straightened, or something that moved her upward a fraction, while his arm smashed her breasts farther upward.
“You wish a hotel?”
“Actually, I wish I hadn’t left it this morning. Don’t tell me you’re shocked that I don’t care about the twits I was with? Trust me. I’ll worry about them come sunup. And only if they don’t show up. Right now, all I want is to get the hell out of here.”
“One moment.”
He was moving all kinds of man chest against her back without giving her an inch of room to move. She had no idea Sebastian was this strong. She heard a click at her ear, and some rapid-fire French. She heard something about a chamber. Something that included Suite de Enfer. And that seemed to get him an unsatisfactory answer, so he said something that included the word Minuit. And then Oubliette. And she really wished she’d taken French for at least one semester somewhere in her school career. It would be helpful when eavesdropping. Then again, in the pitch-black, just hearing French was a really sexy-sounding experience, especially with Sebastian’s exotic, erotic voice.
Wow. That was a really dumb observation.
He finished his call. Another mass of movement behind her must be accompanying him putting the cell phone away. It was too dark to tell, and she was having difficulty concentrating, but she was probably close.
“You prepared?”
Not for that question. Or that voice.
Jill jerked. The arm flexed slightly with the movement, holding her easily. She was grateful for the dark then, as her cheeks heated with what was probably a very visual blush. She’d never reacted to a male like this. Never. Ever. She even felt an insane urge to giggle. Like any other female. She hadn’t known she had that capability.
“We will be moving rapidly. I do not wish to frighten you.”
“Uh...” Oh crap. She giggled at the end of that bit of hesitation.
“Is that... oui?
Okay. He wasn’t laughing, but his voice was full of amusement. Why was this happening to her? And why now? This was a terrible time to find out that severe sexual attraction equaled brain cell malfunction. She nodded.
Her reply was the spark to his fuse. And he wasn’t running. Air rushed past, lifting her bangs. This was incredible. Jill turned her face, keeping her weeping eye to him, while the other squinted against the onslaught of wind. Twice she squinted her other eye open, catching a blur of gray... and the second time, she saw what looked exactly like a row of skulls. At her eye level.
Her gasp wasn’t audible, but he must have felt it, for his other arm reached around her and swiveled her, placing her front directly against his, his arms wrapped about her back... and holy hell. Her palms got pressed against massive rock-hewn pecs, while her breasts were smashed against what felt like hard iron bars. If those were abs, Sebastian had a body to die for. Nothing in her experience was close. Not even the sculptures done by the masters of the Renaissance.
He had a heavy heartbeat. It thumped through her right palm with a rhythm that seemed to match the pulse in her own ears. Exactly. That was odd, but not as much as how nothing about him felt remotely stressed. Was it truly possible he could carry this much weight at a breakneck pace through a black tunnel, and not even get winded? She’d never run across such a male specimen. Ever.
You know, Jill...
When they got to her hotel, she might have to invite him in. Do some exploring... strictly for artistic purposes. No artist could imagine a finer model. She should find out if this Sebastian had the best body ever imagined. The most sculpted arms. An incredibly defined chest and belly. Massive shoulders. Hmm. Maybe he should have kept his shirt on. This was turning into a highly charged, visceral experience. Why... she was even starting to imagine a nude rendering.
Wow again.
Jill licked her lips. What was wron
g with her? She wasn’t interested in a romantic interlude. She wasn’t even interested in a relationship. And the last thing she wanted was to have anything to do with a model. Ugh. She’d already sculpted several beautiful male nudes, with egos as large as their appendages. She’d been at the back of the class, trying not to blush. The art department had a knack for finding models with very nice bodies and equally nice appendages. And they were very fond of shedding their clothes to demonstrate that fact. Evidently, not one under-endowed guy signed up to be an art model.
Jill had snickered over that fact more than once.
Besides, she wasn’t the kind to fall for good looks and a spectacular body, even if it was well-equipped. Yeah. She’d better just stop there. Even if Sebastian was a perfect male, she wasn’t interested. She’d never move to Paris. The place had way too much traffic, everything was strange, and she didn’t fit in.
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 hi
s 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. Sebastian 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.
