by Addison Fox
It made her feel like . . . Ilsa.
With tentative, seeking movements, she pressed her tongue against Kane’s mouth and was immediately gratified by his ready acceptance. Before she could explore further, he took over the kiss, his tongue sweeping up to meet hers, demanding immediate possession.
The sweet suction built between them as they explored each other, her light, breathy moans breaking the silence of the quiet room.
Long, glorious moments spun out, their reality almost more than she could have hoped for. She’d dreamed about this—wept for the insane longing she couldn’t define and couldn’t deny—and now, to finally feel him again, their lips pressed together in fervent need.
What was this madness? What was it about this man that made her forget all she’d believed in? All she’d hungered for, for so very long.
Hate.
Vengeance.
Retribution.
Emotions that had sustained her for millennia.
But none of it mattered when she was with him. None of it had any power over her.
As Kane’s tongue tangled with hers in dark, powerful thrusts that imitated the joining of their bodies, she felt her world tip. Everything she thought she knew—everything she thought she wanted—faded in the heat that lived between them.
Kane’s hand reached up, pressing the back of her head so he could pull her closer and take even greater control of her mouth. Ilsa reveled in the feel, the possessive movement so sexy she felt it all the way down to the answering pull at the apex of her thighs.
Without warning, he pulled his mouth away and struggled to a sitting position, then stumbled to his feet on shaky legs. “We can’t do this. I need you to take me back to my Warrior brothers and then we can figure out what to do with you. You’re not seducing me again.”
Seduce him?
With the sensual haze broken, she could only stare at him. “You want to leave? And what do you mean by seduce you again?”
“Oh, don’t play the innocent, Ilsa. Six months ago you seduced me, fucked me and left me drugged in my bed.” Anger, resentment and—was that hurt?—swam in the onyx depths of his eyes.
“You seduced me.” Which was completely true. Her three days with Kane had come as a complete shock. Her intent had been to get close to him, drug him to get a vial of his blood to confirm he truly was an immortal and then get out of there. But the attraction that lived between them had taken her totally off guard, off her game and off on a journey she couldn’t have predicted no matter how hard she might have tried.
A sneer dragged down the corners of his lush lips and his dark eyes grew even darker, if that were possible. “Funny how we have a vastly different recollection of the events.”
“You know, how is it I’m the only one to blame for what transpired between us? I didn’t exactly see you suffering in that big silk-sheeted bed of yours, Kane Montague. In fact”—she allowed her gaze to travel slowly down the front of his body, coming to rest on the front of his jeans—“you seemed to be a more than willing participant.”
Those dark eyes were absolutely smoldering when she finally lifted her gaze back to his. “I was a willing participant in good sex. I was not, however, a willing participant in manipulation. You took care of that all by yourself.”
“And what about your ulterior motives? What were you planning on doing with me after it was over? Send me on my way and ignore me? Act like nothing happened between us the next time you saw me at work?” Although Ilsa had no idea how this relationship stuff actually worked between men and women, she’d watched enough TV in the last six months to get an idea of what happened between men and women after they had sex. And not all of it ended very nicely.
If she hadn’t left first, would Kane have wanted to keep her around? Or did the very fact that she chose to leave first cause him to think of her as some sort of challenge?
What would Oprah say about it?
“You’re not an innocent, Ilsa. And lies don’t become you.”
Now what in the name of Hades was that supposed to mean? Shit. For all the TV she’d consumed and her desperate urge to learn the nuances of modern-day society, she really had no idea what he meant.
Sure, she’d lied about the syringe. But the rest of it wasn’t a lie. The feelings he drew from her in his bed weren’t a lie, either.
From his tone and the hard set of his jaw, however, she knew a losing battle when she saw one. He’d never believe she’d been innocent of sex before they’d met.
Never.
So why not meet his expectations, her conscience whispered, and get a taste of him again?
Just one.
More.
Taste.
With deliberate movements, Ilsa sauntered toward him, her gaze roaming the length of his body once more. “Why won’t you let me give you what you need?”
“What I need is to get back to my brothers.”
She reached out and laid a hand on his chest, her palm over the beat of his heart. “You need to get some strength back.”
Ilsa felt his stomach muscles tighten in response, their ripple echoing through his skin and up to her palm, even as his voice stayed irritatingly firm. “We can’t start this again. And we certainly can’t start it here.”
“You need this, Kane. And you need me. I know that galls your stubborn, pigheaded, I-can-handle-anything nature, but you need me.” She couldn’t pull her gaze away from his, and she couldn’t stop the words. “You need me.”
“Fat lot of good that did me before.”
“You weren’t sick before. This will go a long way toward regaining some badly needed strength.”
“Oh, so you want to fuck me out of the kindness of your heart? How thoughtful of you.”
At that, Ilsa jumped back, dropping her hand from his chest. Hurt and pain poured through her, like the slash of a thousand swords. “I won’t be spoken to that way.”
“Why not? You set the tone for what’s between us six months ago. It’s a funny time to suddenly develop a sense of self-righteousness about it.”
“You make it sound so . . . so dirty.” She hated the taste of the word on her tongue. Hated what it implied.
“We had a good time. A few days of fun. That’s all.”
His words continued to slash at her, tearing any hope they could share something—however fleeting—to ribbons. Soul-deep hurt filled her, his rejection so harsh she felt as if she’d been slapped. “If that’s all, then why are you so angry at me?”
“You left, Ilsa. And you left me in a drugged stupor. I won’t play the fool again.”
She whirled on him, the large room closing in on her as the air grew heavy with their circular argument. “Well, you won’t have to if you keep doing this to yourself. The moniker “immortal” isn’t completely true and we both know that. There are vulnerabilities. We all live with the knowledge that there are ways we can be killed. Whatever’s living in your system is working damn hard to eliminate you and clearly you’re going to let it.”
Kane’s shoulders set in a rigid line. “I’ll fight it off. I’ve done it before and I can do it again.”
“Before? You’ve had this happen before?”
He nodded, his voice quiet, even as the impact of his words hit her like a gunshot. “I’ve lived with it for three hundred years.”
Her only reaction was a deep inhale of breath. Three hundred years? He’d lived with something this detrimental for that long? Something so devastating?
“I can help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“You’re not the one looking at you. I can see it in the haunted look in your eyes. This time’s different, isn’t it?”
“It’s not different.”
Ilsa tried again, the knowledge she was right increasing in power. “I can see it, Kane. In your eyes. Something’s different this time.”
He finally nodded, as if resigned, that luscious mouth of his a grim slash. “The poison. It’s in its rising phase.”
/> “Rising phase?”
“Yes. It builds day by day until it reaches peak strength.”
“Let me help you.”
The edges of his mouth formed a tight sneer. “Like you helped me before?” At her small moue of surprise, the sneer vanished, replaced by a look so bleak it reached straight out and wrapped her heart in an iron fist. “What can you do? Besides, maybe I’m beyond help.”
Ilsa walked toward him and reached for his face. Settling her hands on either cheek, she leaned in closer. “Maybe we both are. Let me at least try.”
At that, Kane nodded. And then there were no more words.
Kane closed his eyes and leaned in to Ilsa’s touch. This was a monstrously bad idea. He knew it as well as he knew his own name, but he was beyond caring.
For a moment—just one moment—he could close his eyes and revel in her touch. Catch his breath. And try to gather up as much energy as he could to go another round with the merciless taskmaster haunting his veins.
It also meant he could have her. One more time. With full knowledge of what she was.
And full knowledge that they went to each other without pretense.
Eyes still closed, he willed himself to calm down. Willed the air into his lungs in a slow, even pattern. Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale. Exha—
“Ilsa?” His eyes popped open at the tug on his jeans. This was a seriously bad idea. He knew that. Knew it with the certainty of a man who’d lived an endless number of lifetimes.
So why was he trusting her?
And why did the feel of her pressed against him fire him in ways he’d never felt in any of those lifetimes?
“Shhh, Kane. Let me do this.”
She tugged again, a small triumphant smile crossing her features as she managed to get the top button open on his jeans. He reached for her hands, holding them still. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She slipped her fingers from his grasp, her movements deft and determined.
What the he—? His head swam as she got the zipper down, her fingers brushing over his penis. He groaned from the touch as his body went on high alert.
Near death to rock hard in three seconds flat. If he wasn’t so desperate for her he would have laughed.
But he couldn’t allow her to do it.
No matter how badly he wanted it.
“Ilsa. You have to stop. You can’t do this. It’s not right.”
“Would you shut up and leave me alone?” She placed one hand on his hips as her other stayed inside his open fly. She was quick, he’d give her that. She already had a hand inside his briefs, clenched around him like a tight leather glove that hadn’t yet been broken in.
“This isn’t—” he panted, trying desperately to figure out how to stop her. And desperately wishing he didn’t have to. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”
“The universe says otherwise.”
“This is your big plan?”
She pressed her lips against his and he felt her smile as she whispered into his mouth, “Shut up and take it, big guy.” Her hand fisted around the base of his shaft and with skillful movements she pumped his flesh. “You can argue with me later.”
He knew it the moment he lost the battle. His head fell back and his hips moved to the rhythm she set as he pressed himself into her hand.
Waves of power crashed through his life force as she caressed him with long, smooth strokes. Somewhere along the way, she’d managed to lower his jeans and his briefs as he felt cool air hit the lower part of his stomach.
And then he felt a lot of air as the position of her hands shifted.
Opening his eyes, he realized she wasn’t standing in front of him any longer with her lush curves pressed to him.
And then Kane couldn’t think at all as her hot mouth wrapped around his cock, drawing every rational thought from his head. Although her movements weren’t nearly as sure with her mouth as they’d been with her hand, the tentative, daring strokes of her tongue slammed sensation after sensation through him in blistering waves.
Mind-numbing pleasure crashed into him as her tongue wove a web of seduction. She might be on her knees, but he was the helpless one.
Powerless to resist her.
Utterly vulnerable and open to her.
Helpless to deny her.
Her tongue was like a brand as she worked it around his cock. Sharp little darts with her tongue at the tip, followed by wet suction as she worked her way down over the crown. Lapping waves of pleasure as she caressed down to the base.
Over and over, she drew on him with her hot, wet mouth, driving him deliberately toward his moment of greatest physical defenselessness.
He knew he’d gone around the bend. His already tight body grew even harder, the urge to spill himself something he couldn’t fight any longer.
With determination that matched the generous woman before him, he gripped her shoulders, pulling her up. Ignoring her protests, he crashed his mouth to hers, reaching for her hand. Placing it on his painfully eager cock, he growled into her mouth, “I’m yours, baby.”
In great, mindless waves of pleasure he pressed himself against her hand and as the very essence of himself spilled in her palm, his life force ignited fiercely in his veins. The life-affirming power of his orgasm offered a punishing blow to the poison, even if it would be only a temporary respite.
As he fought to even his breathing, Kane couldn’t stop touching her. Face, shoulders, back—his hands roamed over her, seeking the reassurance of her warm, solid body.
And still she gave, her lips pressed to his, her hands following their own path in comforting strokes over his stomach, hips and back.
With gentle hands, Kane ran his fingers down her cheeks, over her jaw, to cup her face. And as his tongue took possession of hers, he knew he was in some serious trouble.
This woman was dangerous, with her doelike eyes and tender touch. She was dangerous to his peace of mind. But, most of all, she was dangerous to his fierce, ironclad control.
And he had no idea what he was going to do about it.
Every cell in her body hummed in pleasure as Kane’s quivering body pressed against hers. She’d pleasured him. This giant of a man, who looked like a god and had the strength of three, had been pleasured.
Seduction, my ass, Ilsa thought fiercely. This went way deeper than seduction. This was a need that they both shared.
With the last few moments replaying in her head, Ilsa watched the awesome strength that grew from his moment of greatest vulnerability.
She felt it—no, saw it—happen before her eyes.
His stance became straighter. The fiber of his muscles tightened under her hands. The circles under his eyes lessened and the weight and strain that rode him lightened, as if by magic.
Kane’s head fell into the crook of her neck, his eyes closed as his body calmed and his breathing returned to normal.
She shifted to pull back when his hands gripped her shoulders and pulled her body against him. He whispered against her hair, “Thank you, Ilsa.”
“You’re welcome.”
They stood there for a moment as time spun out. Even though it was just that—a moment—Ilsa was loath to see it end.
Just a moment.
As she stood there in the quiet with Kane, Ilsa thought about how she felt in his arms. Thought about the feelings this man could pull from her with the simplest of ease. Thought about how she’d like to find some way to assuage her guilt for what had happened six months ago.
Could she do it? Could she actually risk telling him the truth?
Did she have any other choice?
“Kane.” Her voice was whisper soft and even she could barely hear it in the silence.
“Hmmm?”
“I need to tell you something.” When he made no attempt to move, she spoke louder. “I have to tell you something. About six months ago. When we were together the first time.”
He lifted his head at that, the sloe-eyed haze of sexual satis
faction giving way to a different sort of interest.
“What?”
“Um. Well.” Suddenly, them standing there disheveled didn’t feel like a good idea. “Pull up your pants first.”
His look was unreadable as he stepped back, quickly righting his clothes. “Okay. What did you want to tell me?”
“I took something from you. Before.”
Sheer puzzlement covered his face, from the quick of his lips to the questions that rode high in his gaze. “You stole from me?”
“Not your possessions. Well. Not really.”
Oh gods, why was this so hard? If this was what admitting a wrong felt like, she understood why humans did it so infrequently.
Ice coated his next words. “Come on, Ilsa. Out with it.”
On a deep breath, she closed her eyes and leaped. “Six months ago, when we were together, after I drugged you, I stole a vial of your blood.”
After several seconds of stone-cold silence, Ilsa’s eyes popped open. She had to gauge his reaction.
Had he heard her?
One look in his lethal gaze and she knew the answer to that. What she didn’t know was why she thought it was such a bright idea to say anything.
“Kane?”
When he didn’t answer her, just continued to stare at her with that cold, penetrating look, she pressed again. “Kane. What is it?”
She saw him struggle to form words. Saw him think about, then discard, whatever it was he was going to say.
And then it didn’t matter as a piercing scream rent the air, distinctly coming from the direction of the safe house.
Chapter Eight
“Hang on to me.” Her fear of recrimination vanished in the face of the threat back inside the safe house. When Ilsa looked at Kane, the guilt and self-loathing that had filled her was already cataloged to her subconscious for another time. “I’ll port us back there to save time.”
Kane nodded and laid his hand on her forearm. “To the basement. We need to assess the threat.”
Pleased he didn’t argue, she flashed the two of them to his specification, equally satisfied he kept his feet when they hit the basement floor.
