by Jackie Ivie
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.
CHAPTER SIX
Opening the door wasn’t stupid. It was full-fledged insanity.
At least with a barrier between them, she hadn’t been assaulted by the immense power of his presence. Or whatever he wielded. Goosebumps lifted all along her arms and belly, while her breath came in little spurts as if somebody had a corset-thing clamped too tightly on her ribcage. And she’d known he was heavy-weight wrestler big, but at this distance he really looked immense! He had one arm propped across the top of the doorjamb. The other hand held a sword that was almost her height, and he was bending his head forward and down in order to peer at her from beneath his forearm.
“Thank you,” he said.
Her knees wobbled. Good thing she had a hand on a cool marble countertop. He had a voice to match his killer looks. And a slightly foreign enunciation that made her heart skip a beat. This sort of reaction was entirely alien. Somebody else should be standing here, receiving Sebastian Cole’s full attention. Maybe one of the willowy girls from the art group. That might be an acceptable occurrence. Maybe a supermodel. Or maybe even an actress with movie-star looks. Not her. Jill Jones was full nerd. She wasn’t a sex siren. She didn’t have a to-die-for figure. She didn’t wear make-up or fuss with her hair. Heck. She rarely remembered to pluck her eyebrows. She sure wasn’t used to receiving this much male attention. And never from this much male. Most of her coherent thought process went right out her ears as he just stood there, gazing down at her, with fathomless dark eyes.
“Um. What... do you want?” Crap. Her voice trembled.
“To talk.”
“That’s all?”
“I told you. Nothing more... unless you wish it.”
Oh shit.
Why did he have to add that? Something was seriously wrong with her. Her throat closed off with what felt like a golf-ball sized obstruction. That made swallowing difficult, and worse. All-of-a-sudden, she needed to swallow. A lot. And something about his expression looked like he was very aware of those facts.
“May I enter?” he asked.
Jill swallowed again. It was more of a gulp. He was giving the decision to her? Balls. Again. She didn’t know how, but it felt like in the silence they were communicating. Something indefinable seemed to emanate from him, coming in waves that matched her pulse beats.
“Yes,” she finally answered.
He stepped in with a grace that defied his size, and stood upright. Somehow he made the aura of space about them, including the twenty foot ceilings, seem normal-sized. She’d already discovered the palatial dimensions of this bathroom. Actually, she needed to correct that. It wasn’t a bathroom. It was a suite of rooms masquerading as a bathroom. Multi-level marble countertops rimmed the area. Some too high for anything except storage or display, some low enough to sit on. Polished chrome seemed to gleam from the edge of every surface, while etched glass took the place of walls. There were even separate compartments for the sinks, the loo and bidet, a shower stall that fit at least four, and an enormous sunken tub somewhere in the back corner area.
And Sebastian Cole made it all look small.
Jill looked up at him. She shut her blurred eye so she could see him in almost-clarity. That’s what happened when she put the stronger prescription contact in this eye. Things were just a little off-kilter. Slightly blurred from having too much power in the lens. And even that didn’t hamper the view.
Wow.
This was the best dream she’d ever had. Things like this just did not happen to her. She couldn’t even find a descriptor for the mass of man facing her. He was immensely muscled. Perfectly chiseled. He was handsome enough to stop traffic. And he was here with her? In the sculpted flesh?
Unbelievable.
In hindsight, maybe she should have joined the other girls when they’d first arrived in Paris. They’d internet searched all night for ‘man-candy’ sites that looked more like erotic sites featuring male nudes. She’d found her bunk, stuck plugs in her ears, and ignored them. She’d felt the same measure of disgust when they’d made a beeline to the hermaphrodite statue in order to see a rendering of a reclining nude with breasts and a penis. They hadn’t been the only gawkers. Jill had taken a look and moved on. She’d been slightly sickened at the comments and giggles. In hindsight, however, if she had joined in on their searches, she might have some comparison for what she was facing right now.
Sebastian stood there watching her, a slight quirk to his lips as if he knew her exact trail of thought. He didn’t even appear to be breathing. If he was, it was shallowly. He was just there. Waiting. She swallowed again.
“You’re very big,” she commented.
“True.”
“You’re also very cut. Ripped.”
“Uh...”
“And you are really handsome.”
Two dark-toned spots appeared on his cheekbones. They couldn’t be a flush, could they? Men blushed?
“You are very direct,” he replied.
That was funny. He said it as if everyone she met hadn’t already informed her of that fact, and yet, she was still unaware.
“Well. You are the one who wanted in here to talk. Yes?”
He sucked in on both cheeks, narrowing his face. The look he gave her started her body quaking. Jill had never experienced that, either. Was there really such a thing as instant lust? And if so, was this what it felt like? Or maybe this was the love-at-first-sight stuff that so many poets wrote about. Was such a thing possible?
“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” she asked.
His eyebrows rose. He looked down as if verifying, and then swung the sword to plant it before him at his waist level, with both hands splayed atop the hilt. And if she wasn’t mistaken, he was blushing even more.
“Well?” she asked.
“I... um... was working. I never wear attire when I have an assignment. Clothing might encumber me.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Things could get messy.”
“Okay. That is an interesting answer. Are you a male revue guy?”
“A what?”
“A stripper. You know... an exotic dancer.”
His eyes narrowed to slits. That look was ominous. And a tad exciting. Her nipples even hardened to an itching reminder of their presence against her bra.
“Are you trying to insult me?” he asked.
Jill shook her head. Swallowed again. Damn throat.
“Uh, not really. I am simply trying to find out who you are and why we’re here. That’s the normal sequence of events when talking with someone. I think. So. I’m going to guess by your reaction that you are not a male stripper. Which means... you could be a high-class gigolo, but I can’t imagine how that would be so messy you can’t wear clothing on your upper body. Then again, I know next to nothing about high-class society. I think I’ll just rule that out. If you were doing that, you probably wouldn’t have been running about the catacombs. Yes? Oh. Don’t answer. I’ll just figure it out myself. Perhaps you’re a fighter of some kind. No. That can’t be. There’s not a mark on you. Then again, you could be a fighter, and a damn good one. Looks like your opponent didn’t get in one blow.”
“I told you. My name is Sebastian Cole. And I am here because
we are mates.”
“Oh. Right. You did say that. Let’s start with the name, okay? Why don’t you look or sound English?’
“What?”
“Cole is a distinctly English surname. Yet, here you are. Not remotely English. Don’t bother asking how I know. You speak at least three languages and you don’t have a hint of British accent. In fact, you have a really sexy, foreign voice. I don’t have enough experience with Europeans, though. I can’t place it. One thing I do know, however. It isn’t English.”
Damn it. There went the direct delivery again. The flush moved over his shoulders and into his pecs, staining his tan to a nice rosy hue. Wow. Looked like he went shirtless fairly often... for whatever reason. She wasn’t complaining. She actually wanted to applaud. He’d be an absolute joy to sculpt. Plus, her remark had pulled him out of his predatory-looking pose, too. Double bonus.
“I chose Cole as a surname... in... the eighteenth century, I believe. I was known as Der Machtige, but that raised many brows as the decades passed.”
“Right. What does that mean, please? The Der part.”
“The Mighty.”
“You were Sebastian, The Mighty?”
“See. It raises your brows, too. So... I chose Cole. Short. Easy. And I’d just passed a coal mine. When I was asked, I supplied the name Cole. It was necessary. For inheritance purposes.”
“Oh. Right. Like that makes sense.”
“You’ve never heard of an inheritance?”
“Of course I have. I received quite a healthy one when my parents disappeared under the collapsed roof in the food court one afternoon. One moment we’re eating hamburgers... and the next, a mass of gray-shaded rubble is in their place while somebody won’t quit screaming. It took some time before I realized the screamer was me. You speak of an inheritance? Well. Let me tell you. I had a really nice one, until my guardians supposedly used it to have me evaluated and diagnosed, as if I didn’t already know I have social and emotional issues. That’s what happens when you are home-schooled and then released into the public school system after your parents die. By-the-way, thank you so much for reminding me of all that. Really. Thanks.”
