Tris nodded and watched while Mage poured a finger’s worth of liquid into two tumblers and then stalled, resting on his hands. He appeared to be engaged in a close examination of the cabinet’s faux wood grain. Anything that keeps you on the other side of the room, eh? Anger and frustration boiled over inside and Tris stood, crossed to Mage and turned him, trapping his buttocks against the cabinet.
“Stop running from me, Magellan. Give me a chance. By the seven hells, man, I work with Angelica all day every day. You fucked that woman until she could hardly walk upright. She never uttered one complaint, so whatever you did, you’re damn good at it. It’s not as if you’ve never done this before. Give me a chance with you.”
Tris couldn’t contain his frustration at Mage’s silence, so he did what he’d wanted to do since he’d walked into the wardroom: he kissed the man. Tris might as well have kissed the carbonite hull of the Revertar. He persisted, biting under Mage’s jaw, running his hands over Mage’s hard body to grip a tense buttock cheek and cup between his legs. The man stood as if made of ice.
“I should have known you wouldn’t keep your promise,” Mage bit out.
Tris shoved himself away. “Fuck you. I don’t need this.” As he turned to storm out, Mage’s vise grip on his shoulder jerked him to a standstill.
“Don’t go. Please, Tris.” Mage sighed and dropped his hand. “Shit. Tristan… I haven’t. I haven’t done this before. Not this.”
Tristan turned and stared at Mage, uncomprehending. “What are you telling me?”
Mage groaned. “Can you possibly be more thick-skulled? Must I spell it out for you?” He closed his eyes and dropped his head back. When he raised it again, he held Tristan’s gaze steadily. “I’ve never been with a man, Tristan. I’m a gods-be-damned virgin.”
A virgin? Tris ran Mage’s words through his brain several times before the meaning finally sank in. “A virgin.” Tris swept a hand through his hair. “I’ll take that drink now.” When Mage handed one of the tumblers to him, he swallowed the contents in one gulp and held it out. “Again.” With a rueful snort, Mage grabbed the decanter and topped his glass.
Tris crossed to the armchair he’d abandoned minutes ago and sank into it slowly. He waved his hand at Mage. “Sit.” Tris heard how he sounded and removed the strident demand from his voice. “I’m sorry.” He scrubbed his face. “Please. Sit with me. I promise to keep my hands to myself.” He chuckled when Mage’s eyebrows rose skeptically. “I mean it this time.”
While Mage cautiously took the chair at right angles to him, Tris raised the tumbler to his lips and drained its potent contents in a series of steady swallows. Holding the tumbler suspended between thumb and index finger, he placed the empty glass on the table beside him with exaggerated care. “The things I said eight years ago… did I ruin you for me? Talk to me. If nothing else, I want to remain your friend. We can’t leave things like this.”
One corner of Mage’s mouth quirked slightly. His, “Yeah,” came out husky. “When you weren’t trying to save me from myself, we were more than friends. Okay. Here it is. The only man I’ve ever wanted that way was you.”
“Huh.” Tristan had no comeback. Mage’s revelations staggered him.
Mage shrugged as if he didn’t understand either but had long since come to terms with the situation.
Tris mulled that over for a while. “I’m here for the taking. What’s stopping you?”
Mage laughed helplessly and looked everywhere but at him. “I can’t do casual with you, Tris. I can’t. And I don’t want my fucking guts ripped out when you decide to move on. I’d rather just remain friends.”
A crooked smile crept over Tristan’s face. “So… you’re saying I’m your man-crush and you’re afraid I’ll break your tender little heart.”
Mage grunted. “Asshole. Here I am laying my balls on the line and you’re treating me like some gods-be-damned adolescent stood up on his first date.”
Relieved that he finally understood the source of Mage’s reticence and amused at his own predicament, Tristan slumped in his chair, one arm on the armrest, the other across the back. He shook his head. “Hells’ breath, what a convoluted fuck-up.”
Tristan and Mage exchanged a steady gaze. Both men chuckled. Quiet seconds stretched to minutes while Tris examined his desires and Magellan examined him. A string of superficial, sexual encounters defined his life. Sexual encounters? By Her ruby red tits, superficial everything defined his life. He didn’t know if he could give Mage more than just a good time. A virgin. I’d be his first. Shit. He’d never be satisfied with Mage as simply a friend. Ah, fuck. This sucks ass. Eventually, Tris leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and threaded his fingers through Magellan’s.
“What if we take it slow, princess? No pressure for immediate sex. Come stay with me when you get back to Arkodaenia as we’d planned. See what happens. I wouldn’t discount something long term—with you.”I can’t believe I actually mean the shit coming out of my mouth.
Mage snorted and broke away. He stood, presenting Tris with his broad back. “You mean try to have a ‘relationship’?” He glanced at Tris over his shoulder. A sardonic smile twisted his mouth. “Is that what this is—a relationship talk?”
Tris chuckled. “Yeah, princess. You up for it?” He rose to stand quietly behind Mage. The man must say yes. By Her light, I didn’t see this coming.
Mage turned to face him. “I want to include Angelica Giverny.”
“Dr. Giverny?” Tris jerked back a fraction, startled. All the nascent emotion in his heart crashed. He tried not to sneer. “Why? Giving yourself a safe out? She doesn’t like me.”
“I’m not looking for a way out.” Mage’s expression gave nothing away. “I’m attracted to the woman,” he said flatly. “We developed a close friendship on the voyage from Talleo IV and furthered it here. She’s very vulnerable right now. I won’t abandon her. You can be charming when you try, Tris. Charm her.” His face softened. “Show her the real you.”
What would Angelica do if Tris showed her the “real him”? Probably put several galaxies between them. He snorted at the thought. “Whatever you want, princess. Just say yes.”
Mage growled and grabbed Tristan by the nape of his neck. “Don’t make me regret this.” He rested his forehead on Tristan’s and looked him straight in the eyes. “Yes.”
Absurd happiness flooded Tris. By the Mother, I’m as bad as Mage. When did I get all “touchy-feely” and emotional?
The hand on the back of his neck tightened to hold him immobile. His prospective lover angled his mouth across Tristan’s and muttered against his lips. “And stop calling me princess.” Then Mage kissed him.
As kisses went, it fucking rocked his world.
Chapter Seven
Iapologize for hijacking your dinner invitation. Stop looking through me as if I wasn’t here.”
Angelica’s eyes flicked upward at Tristan, then back to the holo-screen display above her office desk at the medcenter. “It’s not necessary to repeat yourself. I heard you the first three times. Besides, I thought bodyguards were supposed to be invisible.” Her fingers flew as she made an entry into a patient’s record then swiped at her virtual monitor and closed the file. From over her shoulder, Tristan’s warm hand settled on top of hers, and she jumped in her chair. The holographic display dissolved in a shower of green particles.
“You’ve been head down in that thing since Captain DeLan left. That’s five days without a break. You haven’t left the medcenter since you got here. Let me take you out to dinner. Show you there’s more to Arkodaenia than the inside of this dome.”
“I don’t want to have dinner with you.” She ground her teeth at his low answering chuckle.
“I think you’re afraid to be alone with me.” He pushed on her chair and twirled her around to face him. With his hands on each of the armrests, he lowered his face to within inches of hers. He closed his eyes and inhaled slightly. “What is that scent you wear? It haunts me.”<
br />
Angelica crossed her legs and her arms and tried not to fidget. “Eau de Chloride.”
“Strange. I would have said moon-blooming aenean, not disinfectant.” With a winsome curve of his lips, he nuzzled into the crook of her neck. Goosebumps rose on her skin and her nipples hardened. “You smell like sweet, desirable woman. Have dinner with me, Dr. Angel.”
Angelica almost whimpered at the effect his nibbles and low murmurs were having on her insides. “I don’t want to have dinner with you,” she whispered, and let her head fall back limply as the wretched man placed soft kisses under her jaw and she turned into a boneless mass of desire.
“Liar.”
The husky gravel of his voice traveled to the vulnerable flesh between her legs and teased. Scents of spice soap and something uniquely Tristan invaded her nose. His kisses meandered up her jawline, across her cheek and stopped at the corner of her mouth, leaving pulses of sensation in their wake. Her arms unfolded of their own accord. She gripped Tristan’s wrists where they rested on the arms of her chair. Sensation paralyzed her. Angelica could no more have moved from that chair than she could have pulled the stars from the heavens.
“Why should I have anything to do with you?” She choked on a moan as the tip of his tongue tickled the inside corner of her mouth.
“Because Magellan wants it and we both want Magellan.”
She jerked bolt upright. Only his superlative reflexes prevented their crashing skulls. She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”
Tris slouched a hip on her desk and crossed his arms. “When Mage tucks the Revertar safely into dry dock, he’s returning to Arkodaenia. He’ll be residing in my apartment.” Tris lifted a shoulder and a smile played at his mouth. “He wants you and me to be friends.”
He does? Why would Magellan DeLan want me to be friends with Tristan DeHelios? Tristan’s eyes dwelled on her as she sat nonplussed.
“Come on, Doc. I’m not so bad. I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise. Come to dinner with me. You’ll enjoy yourself.”
She dropped her eyes to her lap and drew small circles on her thigh with a forefinger. Yes. I’ll enjoy myself too much.“I suppose I have to eat.” She shot a glance at Tris. He intercepted it with a genuine—and immensely charming—grin, and she surrendered to what she suspected was inevitable. “All right, but I expect you to conduct yourself professionally.”
Tris straightened from where he half-sat on her desk. His gaze held such triumph that she almost rescinded her agreement. He offered his hand to assist her from her chair. She accepted and his thumb stroked the back of hers in a sensual sweep as he helped her stand. Her body melted into the warm arousal he stirred. Strident alarms rang in the corridors of her brain, but despite all the valid reasons she kept enumerating for holding him at arm’s length, she couldn’t help the clandestine thrill at the prospects of a dinner with her lethally attractive bodyguard.
“I’ll behave with complete propriety. You have my word as a gentleman.”
***
Tris took her to a small eatery, tucked away on a side street off a main thoroughfare, perhaps half an hour’s easy walk from the medcenter. He’d offered her the option of a pleasant stroll or private ground transport. As Angelica surveyed the cool, clear dusk with stars beginning to dot the lavender heavens and Verdantia’s two moons smiling at quarter full, she’d opted to walk. Unwilling to send any amorous messages, she’d dressed in casual clothes that covered her from neck to ankle, paired with low-heeled, comfortable shoes. She would welcome the exercise, particularly on such a pleasant evening, and she could avoid the intimate confines of a private vehicle.
The walk to the restaurant set the tone for the evening. The medcenter was located in an upscale part of Arkodaenia surrounded with couturier dress shops, fine jewelry boutiques and high-end tech stores with every possible gadget designed to make a geek’s heart go pitty-pat. A convivial and courteous Tristan laughed at her as she pressed her face to the window glass and ogled the new fashions and sparkly accessories. The tables turned when they passed the tech stores. There she giggled at his boyish enthusiasm for the latest “plutonium enriched million-terabyte sliver drive.” The first hint of their destination was the delectable aroma scenting the immediate vicinity. When he turned her down a small side street, she could have found their destination by following her nose. Tris laughed at her when she said as much.
“Yes. The menu is eclectic. There is everything here from a simple Klamanian burg and frits to Veluzi crustaceans flown in live, served enrobed in Galamone sauce with herbaceous sprouts.” She laughed at his snooty waiter accent and Tris grinned at her. “It’s all good.”
He paused and held open a transparent door under a scarlet canopy emblazoned with “Il Piatto Delicios.” “The Delicious Plate,” she translated. With a smile and a nod, he motioned for her to enter. The proprietor, who addressed Tristan by name, showed them to one of perhaps a dozen small tables in a sedately elegant interior. Half of them were occupied with diners like themselves, male and female couples. Pristine table linens and low flickering candles set a romantic and intimate mood in the single room. Some soft, moody melody caught her ear. Tris seated her then took the chair to her left. He waved off the menus and caught her eye.
“Do you trust me?”
“Not in the slightest,” she responded softly.
A knowing twitch of his lips added to the merriment in his eyes. “To order for you,” he clarified, and his eyebrows rose in question.
His good humor was infectious, and despite her reservations about him, he drew a slow answering smile from her. “All right.”
He gave the waiter their drink and appetizer order, then settled all his attention on her. His eyes dwelt on her; she felt as if a ghostly hand caressed her intimately. His lips curved in a subtle message of appreciation; her skin tingled and her insides fluttered. Tristan set her on edge, made her exquisitely aware she was a submissive female and he a dominant male, and he was so damnably sexy. To hide the tremble of her hands, she dropped them to her lap. “How do you and Captain DeLan know each other?”
“Mage? He spent most of his boyhood with my family in Nyth Uchel. His mother and father lacked the wherewithal to support him abroad, so he fostered with our family. I’ve known Mage from the time he was nine or ten until the Haarb wars. I lost track of him after that.”
“Why would Mage foster with your family? Did something happen to his family?”
“The Verdantian custom is to have talented candidates from the nobility educated in the high magicks—to train them as a magister or magistra. Historically, that meant sending our young people to the High Enclave in Sylvan Mintoth or to the Prima Schola in Nyth Uchel. The Haarb desecrated the city of Nyth Uchel, murdered my family but for my brother and myself, and extinguished the great sigil tower, Torre Bianca. Without her light…” Tristan fell silent, his eyes gazing as if at some remembered devastation.
Moved by the pain evident on his face, Angelica slid her hand across the table to lay it on top of his. At her gentle touch, he gave her a tight smile and resumed. She returned her hand to her lap.
“For years, ice imprisoned my mountain home,” Tris said. “Hel and his wife revitalized Torre Bianca and restored life to all Nyth Uchel—in truth to all Verdantia. Since then, the Prima Schola has been reinstated and the college of advanced magicks reopened.”
Angelica sought for a subject less laden with emotional baggage. “With the age difference between the two of you, you seem unlikely friends.”
Tristan gave a quiet snort and relaxed back in his chair. “Magellan was an old man at nine. He’s always been conscientious and responsible. Whereas, I… well, I’ve been told I lack a certain seriousness about life.” For a moment, Tris gazed at nothing and weariness pervaded his features—then vanished once more behind a mask of pleasant geniality. “What brought us together more than anything was our common fascination for all things techno.”
Angelica thought it more than that. “
Captain DeLan speaks about you with great warmth. You matter to him.”
With long, elegant fingers, Tristan rearranged the perfectly ordered silverware on the immaculate table linen. “Mage has a soft spot for lost causes.” He straightened in his chair and looked around sharply. “I wonder what’s keeping our drink order. Excuse me a moment.”
As he stood and stepped away from the table, frustration filled her. That guarded man had suddenly peeled away a tiny layer of protective skin to offer some insight into his internal thoughts and then, just as suddenly, shut her out again.
Tris didn’t take more than three or four steps before the proprietor hustled over. A smiling Tristan murmured something to the owner and the man bowed and walked off briskly toward the kitchen. Some men she had known would have created a scene and publically embarrassed the host—simply to demonstrate how important they were—simply because they could. That sort of rude behavior didn’t seem to fit this new, private Tristan DeHelios. He watched their proprietor for a few moments then returned to their table.
Well… she wasn’t about to let him escape back into superficialities. As Tris lowered himself into his chair, she asked, “Do you consider yourself a lost cause, Prince DeHelios?”
His face shuttered at her gentle question. “Don’t you, Dr.Giverny?”
She squirmed in her seat. His silver gray eyes dismissed her, as if to say whatever she thought of him was the least of his concerns. She shrank in her chair as a pang of conscience assailed her.
“I owe you an apology. Based on your appearance, I made a snap judgment about you that I regret. I was wrong and I’m sorry. I happen to think you are eminently capable and skilled at your job because you’ve worked to become so. I’ve heard the same sentiment from Dominus DeKieran and I respect his judgment more than mine.” She raised her gaze to meet his and read surprise. “So… no. I don’t think you a lost cause, and if Magellan DeLan wants us to be friends, I know that’s not how he feels either.”
Hers to Captivate Page 7
