Fallen Star

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Fallen Star Page 9

by Cyndi Friberg


  Compassion squeezed Jillian’s heart and she blindly reached out of Odintar.

  He caught her wrist and guided her hand back to her lap. Don’t pity me, gennari. That lonely boy is long gone.

  Gennari? Why did that sound familiar? Had he called her that… She’d heard his voice inside her head! Her eyes flew open and she gasped. “I knew it! You’re telepathic.”

  As are you. His lips only moved to form a lazy smile.

  “Really? Then why is your voice the only one I’ve ever heard?”

  Your mind is heavily shielded. Push a thought across our link. The connection makes it easy. It’s a good way to practice.

  Can you hear me now? She felt foolish echoing the familiar commercial, until he responded.

  Loud and clear.

  She stared at him in stunned wonder for a moment, unable to believe it was really happening. Being told that her father was likely an alien and actually finding a resulting anomaly were two very different things. Can I do this with anyone or just you?

  His smile turned predatory and he scooted closer, placing his hands on the armrests of her chair. He still wasn’t touching her, but she was basically caged by his body. Depends what you mean by ‘this’. Before she could respond he chuckled and waved away her answer. “Work before play. I keep forgetting. If you’re finished looking around, draw me into your mind.”

  Like a child with a new toy, she wanted to explore. Can I look around a little longer? Please.

  He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. It wasn’t really a kiss, just a tantalizing caress of skin against skin. I have nothing to hide. Take as long as you like.

  She raised her other hand and framed his face, then reluctantly closed her eyes. Looking at him was a constant temptation. Still, she couldn’t afford to squander this opportunity.

  Easing back into the churning energy stream, she took a moment to familiarize herself with the sensations. Her senses felt overstimulated, making each impulse slightly painful. This must be what it’s like when a baby learns to walk, exhilarating yet terrifying.

  She drew his energy inward, mixing it with her own until she couldn’t distinguish between the two. Rather than searching out his memories, she opened herself to the information and the images began to flow naturally. His youth and teenage years had been shaped by routine and discipline. Apparently a magical “conservatory” wasn’t all that different from a school for the performing arts. Any talent, be it physical or metaphysical, was made better through hard work and endless practice. Jillian’s favorite instructor liked to say, “Practice does not make perfect; perfect practice makes perfect. Imperfect practice only reinforces bad habits.” Their talents might be vastly different, but their adolescent years had been remarkably similar.

  You’re about to witness my first sexual experience, he warned. Are you sure that’s what you want to watch?

  She pulled back as heat spread across her cheeks. “Thanks for the warning.” There was only one person she wanted to picture Odintar having sex with and he couldn’t remember something that hadn’t happened yet.

  “What else do you want to know?” He shifted on the ottoman, clearly restless. “This will be faster if I guide you.”

  Suspicion tingled down her spine and she lowered her hands to his shoulders. “Can you manipulate what I see?”

  “I can if I send the images to you, but you’re inside my shields. What you see is what you get.”

  She wasn’t sure what she wanted to know. And she was starting to feel guilty about the exchange. If she didn’t want him digging around in her mind, why should he allow her to rummage through his? “Show me your best friend.” That seemed like a neutral enough topic.

  “I don’t have a best friend. I have several close friends who have moved in and out of my life for decades. Lor is one of them, but the others are just as important to me.”

  “Are any of them female?” She glanced away from his intense stare, refusing to consider what prompted the question. Why should she care if one or more of the important people in his life were female?

  He chuckled. “If you really want, I’ll show you every woman I’ve ever bedded. I’m not ashamed of my sexual needs.”

  “Neither am I,” she insisted, but the claim sounded defensive and unconvincing. “I’m just not used to having a man I just met watch me c-come.” She stumbled over the last word, compounding her humiliation.

  He traced a path from her temple to her chin, his fingertip barely touching her skin. “I think we should move on or I’ll forget we’re supposed to be working. You already know more about me than anyone else on Earth. The rest is endless missions and finding creative ways to combat boredom.”

  She was ready to do as he asked, or nearly ready. One image lingered in the back of her mind, imprinted there because it had appeared so often in his memories. “Who was she? Is she still part of your life?”

  He didn’t bother with denials or deflections. They both knew who she meant. “Her name was Cizarro and no, she’s not part of my life any longer.”

  “Was she more than just your lover? The connection seemed…complex.”

  His dark brows arched, accenting the challenge in his even darker eyes. “I’ll tell you about Cizarro, but you’ll have to tell me about the men in your past. I suspect there haven’t been that many.”

  She wasn’t sure if she was flattered or insulted by his conclusion. Had her kisses been that awkward? No longer comfortable touching him, she drew her hands back into her lap. All he had to do was look at her with desire in his gaze and she blushed like a schoolgirl. Of course he thought she was a sexual novice. Which wasn’t too far from the truth.

  “There have been three,” she admitted. “And it’s a deal.”

  He acknowledged the bargain with a nod before he began his tale. “Cizarro was brought in from Bilarri for the last phase of my training. Head Master Tal knew my true history and wanted me to explore Bilarrian techniques as well as Ontarian.”

  He’d slept with his teacher. She fought back a smile. He really was a naughty boy. “Was the attraction mutual or did she seduce you?”

  His laugh was deep and dark, filled with sensual promise. “You clearly know little about Bilarrian males. I was the aggressor. She stubbornly resisted my advances for almost a year before I stopped listening to her excuses.”

  Dread washed over her, cooling her smoldering desire. Surely he didn’t mean he’d forced her. There had been nothing in his memories that hinted at such cruelty. “On Earth that’s called date rape.” She watched his reaction closely, hoping for outrage and disgust. He didn’t disappoint.

  He shoved back from her chair and stood. “I have never forced my attentions on a woman. And after all you have seen, I find the insinuation insulting.”

  She was relieved by his outrage. It felt completely believable. “Then what did you mean by you stopped listening to her excuses?”

  “They were just that, excuses. She wanted me every bit as badly as I wanted her. We were consenting adults and I was no longer willing to allow pointless rules to keep us apart.” His indignation gradually receded, but he remained on his feet. “We were together until I finished my training. We tried to be discreet, but most knew we were lovers. When she was ready to return to Bilarri, she expected me to go with her. I genuinely cared for her, but my life was on Ontariese. I suggested a compromise, but she wasn’t interested in a long-distance relationship.”

  “But you can teleport from planet to planet. Why did she reject the compromise?”

  “Because it was a compromise. She said I loved my job more than I loved her and she deserved better.” He slid the ottoman out of the way and knelt on the floor in front of her, hands resting lightly on her knees. “She was right. I enjoyed her company, and the sex was great, but she wasn’t my true mate.”

  Just the pressure of his fingers against her legs had her squirming in the chair. What would it feel like to be naked and at his mercy? At his mercy? Why would she want to be
at any man’s mercy? “You honestly believe there’s just one woman in the entire universe predestined to be your mate?”

  “Of course not.” He slid his hands a bit higher on her legs, his gaze boring into hers. “There are any number of women who are physically and emotionally compatible with me. My body lets me know when I encounter a potential match so I can pay more attention to the possibilities.”

  She licked her lips and relaxed her leg muscles, not wanting him to realize how deeply his simple touch was affecting her. “And how often do you encounter such women?”

  “It has never happened—before.” His slight hesitation changed the meaning of the sentence. He slid his hands up her legs and grasped her hips as he eased between her knees. “Your turn,” he whispered. “Tell me about the three fools who let you get away.”

  If she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, he could carry her into the bedroom. She already felt breathless and anxious and he hadn’t touched anything more intimate than her hips.

  “Number one,” he prompted. “How old were you?”

  “Sixteen. Typical first time. Awkward, utterly forgettable.”

  He chuckled, apparently pleased by the confession. “Number two?”

  “I met him during my sophomore year in college. We were much more serious. We even lived together for a while. But sort of like you, I knew he wasn’t the one and I was more interested in my career.”

  “And number three?” He pulled her closer, spreading her legs in the process.

  “Most entertaining mistake of my life.”

  He tilted his head and slid his hands up to her waist. “Explain.”

  She didn’t want to talk. She wanted to wrap her legs around his hips and rub against his chest. Her core ached and her nipples tingled, but she’d promised a full accounting. “I knew he was a womanizer, that he’d quickly lose interest if I gave in, but I’d never had a man pursue me like that before.”

  “You like being pursued?” It was impossible to miss the underlying question. Would she like being pursued by him?

  She swallowed hard, barely able to remember what they were talking about. “We—Tori, Angie and I—readily admit we’re drawn to bad boys. But the qualities that attract us are also the qualities that keep long-term relationships from working out.”

  “Which qualities are you talking about?” His hands inched higher, his thumbs teasing her midriff through her T-shirt. “What makes a man a bad boy in your eyes?”

  “Arrogance, not giving a damn about what anyone else thinks of him, and an affinity with danger.”

  His lips curved without parting, his smile speculative. “Do you consider me a bad boy?”

  God yes! He could be the poster model for bad boys, but her throat was so tight she could only nod.

  “Were you right? Did Three lose interest after you’d shared his bed?”

  Just when she was ready for him to cup her breast and end the teasing game of almost touches, he pulled his hands away. It was all she could do not to grab his wrist and press her breast into his palm. “He strung me along until he had his next conquest in sight. I’m not sure if he actually cheated on me or not, but he was definitely more interested in the other woman.”

  “Who broke it off?”

  “I did. That’s the only part of the relationship I don’t regret.” Unable to bear the smoldering heat of his eyes, she looked down. He was still too close, but she felt the absence of his touch even more powerfully than she’d felt the tantalizing caress. “He was everything my mother warned me about and more. In fact, they all were in one way or another.”

  He curved his index finger beneath her chin and raised her face until she looked at him again. “All men aren’t like that. Even bad boys.”

  “I know.” She sighed. Their trip down memory lane had only shined a glaring light on how empty her relationships had been. She’d always dreamed of a man who could prove her mother wrong, someone so utterly committed to her that he’d never leave her side. Or at least never want to.

  His fingers brushed the side of her neck then lightly cupped her shoulder. “You all right? You seem really sad.”

  “Where is all this leading? Why did you let me see into your mind?” He wanted her and she wanted him. That much was obvious to both. So why did he keep toying with her? Maybe if they had sex, she’d be able to concentrate on something other than Odintar.

  “I need your trust and I don’t have time to earn it in a more conventional way.”

  “So distract me again.” Had that breathy, needful tone actually come out of her?

  He accepted the offer with actions rather than words. In a flash, he lifted her and reversed their positions. He sat in the chair and brought her down straddling his lap. His strong fingers wrapped around the back of her neck and pulled her face toward his. Her lips parted, encouraging the bold thrust of his tongue, but that only incited his aggression.

  Catching both wrists, he drew her arms to the small of her back and secured them there with one of his long-fingered hands. His free hand returned to her neck, holding her still as his mouth plundered hers. She wasn’t resisting, but his hold remained firm, a warning she didn’t quite understand.

  His energy barreled across their link and pushed through her shields. She shivered then moaned, shocked yet intrigued by the emotions flowing in the wake of his thrust. Desire blazed, easily recognizable, while fascination, resolve and anxiety twisted around each other and threaded through the blatant lust.

  Before she could sort through the tangled mess and figure out what caused each reaction, she felt a sharp tear. She tried to turn away from the pain, but he held her securely. Energy gushed from the opening, rushing through her body and pouring back across their link. She felt as if she were drowning from the inside. Panic drove rational thoughts from her mind. She writhed within the surging current, tossed about like a boat on a raging sea.

  Don’t fight it. It won’t harm you. He released her arms and pulled her snugly against his chest. Don’t be afraid. His mouth still moved over and against hers, but the distraction was insufficient now. Absorb as much of the energy as you can.

  As if understanding his words, her body obeyed his directive. She felt the energy being soaked up by her muscles, organs and tissues. Every molecule inside her suddenly acted like a thirsty sponge.

  Very good. He pushed his fingers into her hair as he separated their mouths and waited for her eyes to focus. “Can you feel what changed?”

  “Yes.” It was a little hard to miss. Every cell in her body felt as if it were vibrating, ready to burst through her skin and fly away. Her muscles twitched, her skin tingled, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. “But I don’t understand it. What did you do?”

  “I just created an opening and let your true self out. Can you channel some of the energy across our link or should I distract you again?”

  Even though they’d both enjoyed the kiss, determining the nature of her abilities was more important. She gathered a particularly restless wave and used it to saturate their link. “Is that enough?”

  He nodded. “I have a clear reading, but what I’m sensing is confusing.”

  “Confusing how.” She shivered and her hair blew out around her as if she were standing in front of a fan. “Did I do that?”

  “You did.”

  “What does it mean?”

  He started to speak then paused. “Remember the sensation and see if you can recreate it.”

  She closed her eyes, tried to feel the burst of air upon her face and her hair rippling around her again. A cool current of air swirled around her and she gasped. Her hair danced in a breeze strong enough to ruffle his hair as well.

  “I did it.” She gave him an excited hug, but he looked concerned not pleased. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong. We were just mistaken. Your father wasn’t Ontarian.” He smoothed her hair back from her face as he looked into her eyes. “What I’m sensing is elemental magic,
which means your father was either from Rodymia or Bilarri.”

  Chapter Five

  The door chime announced a visitor and Roxie Latimer hurried to the front of her shop. She’d opened Unique Ink three years ago after her appearance on a popular television show had quadrupled her following overnight. Tattoo artists were a dime a dozen in Las Vegas, so she was grateful for the exposure. Her two best friends, and fellow tattoo artists, had gone to lunch together, leaving Roxie to hold down the fort.

  “What can I…” Her visitor turned around and Roxie’s throat refused to function. Sevrin Keire was always polite and ridiculously generous, but there was something about her that terrified Roxie. Perhaps it was the fact that she only appeared when Roxie was alone. She cleared her throat and tried again. “It’s good to see you again, Ms. Keire. What can I do for you?”

  Sevrin crossed the room, her stride rolling yet graceful. Her style of choice was always leather despite the desert heat. But never biker black or cowboy brown, Sevrin loved unusual colors. Today’s selection was powder blue with sapphire stitching and two-tone ankle boots. The skirt skimmed her hips and accented her narrow waist, while the bolero jacket framed a set of breasts any stripper would covet. How could she tolerate a leather jacket when it was at least eighty outside?

  “Are my boys keeping you busy?” There was a salacious undertone to the question, but Sevrin’s sculpted features revealed nothing.

  “Always. I’ve had to refer some of my regulars to the other artists to make time for your men, but I’ve stuck to our agreement.” Roxie had encountered Sevrin for the first time nine weeks before. The enigmatic woman strolled into the shop and offered Roxie a small fortune if she would make herself available exclusively to Sevrin’s “boys”. Instead, Roxie had agreed to make them top priority if she was allowed to work her other clients in as time permitted. Sevrin had decreased the amount of the retainer—which was still more than Roxie usually made in a quarter—and the deal was struck. Then came the parade of musclebound men. Sevrin either trained bodybuilders or she ran some sort of private army. Roxie’s money was on the latter. To be more specific, she was convinced Sevrin’s boys were foreign mercenaries and she’d been tempted more than once to notify Homeland Security.

 

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