by Jaye Shields
“Good evening, Sparrow.”
“Good evening.” She swayed comfortably against the doorframe. Gosh, getting drunk was hard work. Or at least it made standing hard. “Umm, sommmeone moved Morgana’s room,” she slurred.
Or at least she thought it was supposed to be her aunt’s room. Now that she was completely plastered on Hvergelmir, she wasn’t so sure.
“Your Aunt Morgana requested a different room, so I obliged her.” He walked towards her and she couldn’t force her gaze from his body.
As she rested sideways against the cold wood, she was riveted by the bobbing of Rowen’s hardened shaft, which seemed to approach her in slow motion. She was no virgin, and she recognized a gorgeous specimen when she saw one. And it wasn’t just the Hvergelmir talking.
Finally, he arrived only inches away from her. “Wrong room.”
From close, she could see every mesmerizing fleck of color in his crystal-like aqua stare. Then she experienced the softness of his touch against her shoulder.
Her body had already separated from her mind, and she moved against the hardness of his body. A look of surprise passed over his expression. His eyes became determined slits, his full lips fixed in a grim line.
Please tell me this is his “interested” face.
Her limbs were made of lead, no thanks to the stash of liquor, and her head lulled back. She welcomed the sight of Rowen’s sultry face once more as she looked up at him and focused on his soft lips. His hand still gripped her shoulder, guiding her curves closer against his strong body. A shudder overtook her like a lightning strike, and she was captive to the lust scorching through her veins.
• • •
Rowen gnashed his teeth together, desperately trying to grind away the need churning within him. The angel’s soft curves had nearly sent him over the edge. The way she looked at him, desire plain on her face. But her expression also showed intoxication. He couldn’t have her this way. And she was young. So young. Although he appeared to be in his late twenties, he was several centuries old. She was but a baby, and her innocent face and soft golden locks did little to persuade him otherwise.
But the way she had appraised his shaft had been the regard of a woman.
And the curves were those of a woman.
“The strong, silent type.” Her voice was soft like a whisper, a hint of slur reminding him to be a gentleman. “I like it.”
Suddenly, he let himself become wrapped in her as she pressed a kiss wantonly against his mouth. The hot passion of her lips melted against his own, and he was a slave to her desires. She moaned softly, and the vibration thrummed against his lips as they explored each other. Her tongue was hot, soft, and determined to explore every inch of his mouth. Anticipation threatened his calm façade as she nibbled on his lower lip. He wanted to grab her and throw her down onto his bed. He’d peel off her clothes and find out what the body of an angel looked like. And what face she made in the peak of pleasure.
“Hot.” Her voice dripped slow sex, but her sweet face nearly brought him to his knees. “You’re so hot,” she gasped.
He had no words to respond. Instead, he wound one arm around her back, holding her still-swaying body in place, and slammed the door behind her. Her brought his mouth to her neck, and nibbled and sucked on the skin there until he found the spot that made her moan and drag her fingernails down his back.
He found her lips once more, and dove in with his tongue, letting his passion tell her of his desire. His free hand moved to the waistband of her jeans. Unfastening the button, he fingered the lace lying against her skin. His hand slid down past the fabric.
Her skin was sheer heat, and she squirmed against him, her head tilting back in submission to lust. His hand dipped lower and she gasped when he found her wet with desire. He parted her lips and thrust into her with a finger.
“Oh, God.”
“That’s right, Angel.” He’d bring her to ecstasy, and enjoy every minute of it.
Using the back of his hand, he pressed the front of her jeans out, freeing more room to massage her. Her swollen, heart-shaped core was wet between his fingertips while she shuddered against his body.
He dragged his lips away from hers to see her open her eyes to tiny slivers and smile at him, pleasure plain on her face. Her lips were parted, as if on the edge of crying out, and her fingers dug into his skin with need. The sharp tips were spurs for his desire, urging him on.
He dove into her once more with a second digit and she cried out.
“You were made by the heavens to have pleasure.” He whispered as he worked her tight core with his finger.
Her gasp of ecstasy brought him to a new high. He pressed her back against the wall as he went deeper, thrusting against her with need. She went for his lips, but he leaned away. He refused to take his gaze off her expression of pleasure. The eyes that had been sky-blue during the day were now gray storms, lids straining open against the onslaught of passion. Her face wasn’t won-ton like the cheap demons he had slept with. Instead, her expression was of both surprise and anticipation. She knows it’s coming. She’s ready.
This time when he dove into her with his finger, he made sure the palm of his hand rubbed against her bud. He watched her satisfaction sweep across her face. Her pink lips parted further and she gasped.
“Oh, God. Yes!”
Then she was silent as shudders wracked her body, and her legs closed around his palm. He didn’t cease massaging her heart until he eased the last tremors of ecstasy from her body.
And then her pleasure was spent.
The strength in her fingertips slackened where they lie on his back. Her body collapsed against his, her cheek resting against his chest. The silence and still peace of her body made him fight a chuckle. She had fallen asleep. The angel had fallen asleep in his arms.
Damn Hvergelmir.
Taking her gently into his arms, he carried Sparrow to his bed. Laying her on the soft down, he seated himself on the chair beside the bed and let himself drink in the sight of her body. Her jeans were still unfastened, her shirt raised enough for him to glimpse the tight skin across her stomach. He fantasized about dipping his tongue into her cute bellybutton, and then dragging his kisses lower. If she reacted so strongly to his fingers, he hardened at the thought of her intense reaction to his tongue against her core.
She moaned in her sleep and his cock twitched with desire.
But then the angel’s lips parted, and she spoke in amidst her slumber. “Pyrrhus.”
God damn it.
As Rowen carried Sparrow back to her room and lay her gently in her own bed, he fought the urge to kill something.
Chapter Ten
Once more, Sparrow awoke to find her bud throbbing. She didn’t remember much from her Hvergelmir-induced fog, but she did remember her pathetic attempt to walk straight to her room. And then, after passing out, her erotic dreams flooded her once more. But this time, she didn’t only dream of Pyrrhus, the one whose blood was supposed to ignite the dreams. She also dreamed of Rowen.
And boy was it good.
Even now, her body tingled and her heart sped at the thought of leaving her room to see him once more. It was obvious to her that she had come in her sleep. Slightly embarrassing, but she had to admit, she liked it.
Quickly, she showered, letting her long blond locks air dry into subtle waves. While she was in the shower, she couldn’t help but caress her own body, excited by the way Rowen’s hands had touched her in her dreams. It had been very realistic, and yet surreal in its perfection. In her dream she had arrived in the wrong room, and he had been quick to ease her need. Like he was made to pleasure a woman.
Although the thought was nice, she couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy, thinking about him pleasuring the rest of the female race.
Opening her door, she decided to pop
over to her aunts’ room and say good morning. After all, she was way too much of a coward to go above deck and face the knights. Besides, they had supernatural advantages. Who knew if they could smell the lingering sex on her? Sure, she had scrubbed like hell in the shower. But she still couldn’t help but blush after a night of erotic fantasies.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Melissandra’s voice echoed from down the hall.
“Hey.” Sparrow scratched her scalp as she stood bewildered. “I thought your room was across the hall from mine.”
Morgana popped her head out of Melissandra’s room as well. “Nope honey, that room was too … loud.”
Unease shot through her spine like a lightning bolt. Her aunt’s voice sounded entirely too mischievous.
“I switched rooms with Rowen.”
“Are you kidding me?” Sparrow was down the hall in an instant. She put a palm on each of her aunt’s shoulders. “Did you hear me sleep-walking last night?”
“No, honey. But you did seem wide awake when we came below deck.” Morgana spoke, and she sounded innocent enough. But whether it had been their plan or not, Sparrow was starting to think she may have indeed gone to that room the night before.
The implication settled in. She’d seduced Rowen? In a drunken stupor?
Embarrassment faded to sheer excitement. Pulling up her metaphorical sexy girl pants, Sparrow flipped her hair behind her. “Where did you say you put that red lipstick, Morgana?”
• • •
Ten minutes later, Sparrow ascended above deck with her aunts in tow. The rest of the gang was already there, the girls eating some kind of egg that Duncan had prepared over the fire. The yolks were a murky shade of lime.
“Ah, yes. Green eggs and ham. My favorite.” Business as usual. Sparrow repeated the mantra to herself while she searched out Rowen discreetly.
He was nearby discussing something with Sodor as they searched the distant fog surrounding the boat.
“The only eggs we had were from the phoenix,” Sabin answered, his hand resting on Tera’s thigh as she ate.
“Maybe I’ll pass,” Sparrow teased, feeling in a better mood. “Eating the eggs of a phoenix just seems like bad karma.”
She received chuckles all around, except for Rowen. He actually sported quite a scowl. Oh, my God! Sparrow realized why he looked so uncomfortable and mortification lit through her. She had passed out after he had given her pleasure. She got some, but he hadn’t.
No wonder he looks so irritated. I gave the poor guy blue balls.
“I’m going back below deck to look for something else to eat. Rowen, can you show me where the fridge is?”
Sodor answered from beside Rowen. “We don’t have a fridge.”
“Sorry, milady,” Rowen’s words were sweet, but dripped with disinterest, and his eyes never met hers.
“I brought a cookie with me, but I couldn’t find it in my bag. Will you help me look?” Honestly, after her Hvergelmir hangover, the last thing she wanted was a cookie. Not to mention she hadn’t actually brought any.
“Sabin,” Rowen chided his friend in an even tone. “Didn’t you tell them of the food quarantine?”
Is this dude really the man that gave me won-ton, mind-blowing orgasm a la finger? The guy that’s worried about food quarantine? She had to find out if it really was a dream, or if pleasure with Rowen had been reality.
Above deck, there was little space on the small boat for privacy. So instead, she headed back below. Before her body disappeared completely, she caught Rowen’s attention, and beckoned him to follow when no one was looking.
His uninterested response nearly brought her to her knees. She’d been reduced to a dim-witted school girl once more. Mortified, she fought the urge to wipe off her red lipstick. Because clearly, although he trudged in her direction, she was about to be rejected.
• • •
When Sparrow had stepped above deck with her aunts, Rowen hadn’t been sure what she would remember. Clearly, she was still suffering from the effects of the Quetzalem’s blood. He knew she would be having erotic dreams about Pyrrhus, but Rowen hadn’t anticipated how strongly he would react himself to Sparrow.
He knew he shouldn’t blame her, but hearing another man’s name at that moment had been too much. He hadn’t expected anything from her in return last night. Hell, he had wanted to resist her demure sensuality but couldn’t. And so his sole plan was to give her a relaxing evening of pleasure. In return, the only thing he would have craved was to hear his name on her lips.
Yet soon after he had brought her to climax, she was thinking of Pyrrhus. His teeth gnashed together just thinking about it, his molars nearly reduced to stubs.
“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about last night.” Her voice was curious, her eyes questioning.
He didn’t answer, but instead decided to wait for her to go on. Even in his disdain, she was too damn adorable. Adorable wasn’t even the word. Her lips were painted crimson, which made her look damned ravishing. The searing desire to have her lips trails down his stomach to his groin, leaving a subtle red trail gnawed at him. To have her mark him as hers …
“You were the obliging host yesterday, and this morning you seem pretty pissed.” Her voice shook him from his thoughts. Her blue eyes evaded him. She was nervous. “I remember what happened last night.”
“Do not worry on it. It is I who needs to apologize for taking advantage of your condition. Have no worries. It will not happen again. We will be arriving in Hy-Breasal soon.” For the first time, her eyes met his, and he thought he recognized disappointment reflected there. But then it turned to anger.
“Take advantage of my condition? You mean being hopped up on Quetzalem blood? Or the Hvergelwhatever? Well, let me tell you something — I was a horn dog before either.”
Her sensual voice was lit afire by fury. Her sapphire gaze had become angry slits before she turned and marched back above deck. It was all he could do not to watch her departure and the way her petite body swayed, even when charged by anger.
An unwelcome sensation washed over him. Instead of feeling free, a renewed sense of desire washed over his body. Sparrow wasn’t just an angel. She was a hellcat. To hell with Pyrrhus. Rowan wanted to experience both sides of Sparrow. He just had to get her to forgive him first.
And if she gave him another chance, he’d make sure she forgot all about Pyrrhus and the effects of the Quetzalem’s blood. He made a vow to himself. By the time he was done with her carnival of pleasure, she wouldn’t even need the damn antidote.
Chapter Eleven
Sparrow couldn’t have been happier to spot the shoreline of island Hy-Breasal. It had been only a couple of days, but it passed in slow seconds avoiding Rowen on such a tiny watercraft. And Sodor was right — it was like the fucking love boat. She was glad her friends were happy, but all it did was remind her of Rowen’s rejection. So much for a gentleman. More like a please ’em and leave ’em.
It was absolutely infuriating. After their little chit chat, he was either schmoozing her aunts or trying to bring Sparrow food and drink. Well, excuse her if she didn’t have an appetite.
Never-ending orgasm and a morning-after rejection did that to a girl.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
The voice of her best friend interrupted Sparrow’s bitter train of thought. “Sure is.”
Tera came up behind her and gave her a friendly hug. Her bestie’s chin rested atop Sparrow’s head. “Pale pink ocean and emerald green hills seem worthy of a smile. Why so sad, big bird?”
“Zero glumness.” Sparrow wiggled out of Tera’s grip and shot her a quizzical brow. “You’re cray, cray. This is my vacation face.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve never heard you zip the snarkiness for more than five minutes, and you’ve been awfully quiet.”
“Wh
at if the goddess of chaos isn’t really defeated? I mean, she’s a goddess. And what about the vision Morgana had a while back, about Gods being able to visit the earth once more when the planets align. Have you forgotten all that in your love-induced state?”
Tera smiled, her green eyes reflecting the approaching shoreline. “You can’t fool me. You’re not worried about Chaos. You’re worried about your mojo.”
“Um — ”
“Admit it,” Tera whispered through a womanly chuckle. “You’re pissed Rowen hasn’t made a move. You’ve been glaring at his crotch all day.”
“I have not!” Sparrow couldn’t help the jaw that dropped at her friend’s cheeky accusation.
“Mmm-hmm.” Her friend’s eyes twinkled with the wisdom of a three-hundred-year-old Dryad.
“Ladies.” Sabin interrupted their mini-conference by offering a hand. “We have arrived.”
Obviously. Sparrow could hear the voices of the excited crowd awaiting from the shoreline just thirty yards away. Squinting, she could already make out the elaborate fabrics and dresses the ladies wore. And apparently, the style was to flaunt ample bosoms. No wonder this was the vacation spot of the knights.
“Can I help you, my lady?” She couldn’t avoid Rowen’s calming voice this time. As she turned to face him, his eyes glittered like the sky, and she fought the urge to swoon. His focus remained on her, not the ladies waiting on the shoreline.
Peering away from the intense gaze, she saw that Duncan had already teleported to shore with Michelle, and Sabin was carrying his woman through the water as well. Sparrow turned back to the knight before her and glared at the palm he offered her.
She fought a shudder. That same palm had held her body with such gentleness, and yet, it had done such wickedly pleasurable things to her. She definitely couldn’t touch that palm again, and she certainly wasn’t entwining her fingers with his.
Sparrow realized that she was still staring at his outstretched hand. She looked up, expecting his expression to read amusement, but instead, she found only patience. “No, thanks.”
