by Adrian, Lara
He wasn’t willing to pull out of her heat either. With his unfastened patrol fatigues sagged around his hips and his arms still holding her astride him, he swung her away from the wall and carried her to the edge of the empty weapons table.
Not the most romantic place he could think of, but his need for her was too impatient to care. All he knew was the pounding desire that flared even brighter as Phaedra reached for his face and brought him down for her kiss.
His chest pressed into her softness, their clothing rasping between them with each hard thrust of his body into hers. He wanted to be naked with her. He wanted to take it slow and savor every breathless moan that spilled off her lips, every delicious tremor that shook her as she moved beneath him.
That’s what he wanted, but his desire for her refused its leash.
He took her fast and hard and deep.
She fit him perfectly, and as the wet friction of their joining ratcheted his need closer and closer to the breaking point, his pulse hammered like a war drum, blood surging through his veins. His heart pounded with a rhythm that seemed to roar a single word: Mine.
He’d felt that wild possessiveness even before this moment.
God help her, she’d belonged to him from the instant he spotted her in those scorched, barren woods.
After tonight, a part of her would always belong to him, although something reckless and untamed inside him wanted nothing less than all of her. A cowardly craving, and not only because she was leaving tomorrow for the life she’d left behind in Rome.
He wanted her in spite of the fact that she did not—and could never—be his in any true sense of the word. The Order was his calling. It was his life. He had made his choice from the time he was old enough to hold a weapon in his hand.
Fate and destiny be damned, but beautiful, kind-hearted Phaedra had no place with him.
Except like this, right here and now.
Her pleasured cries as he brought her to another explosive climax made his own release gather and build. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t get deep enough into the yielding softness of her body’s tight sheath. Lifting his head on a thick roar, he watched her lovely face as she quivered and sighed his name. His vision burned with the bright amber that devoured his irises. His fangs filled his mouth, the dagger-sharp points digging into his tongue as he clenched his teeth and snarled with the jolting rush of his hot seed as it exploded inside her.
She arched off the table on a strangled scream, her hands clutching the back of his head, her thighs wrapped around his waist. Her body shook, soft sounds of surrender in the shallow sighs that fanned against his ear. Christ, he didn’t know how she managed to feel both as fragile as a kitten and as fierce as a goddess in his arms. It was an addicting combination, one that could easily consume him.
That she was immortal, part of a race of beings he’d long considered his enemy, was only a fraction of what made his desire for Phaedra so dangerous to him. It was her tender heart, her innate goodness, that had awakened something disturbing inside him.
She had begun to make him long for something more than the vengeance he’d vowed to have for the deaths of his teammates in the Deadlands. And, now, he had to add Eli’s slaying to that grim tally.
That vengeance should have been all that mattered to him.
The grief and guilt he carried for all of those lost lives would never go away, not even after he had the retribution he was prepared to give his life in order to have.
His dedication to that goal hadn’t faltered.
But if he wasn’t careful, his feelings for Phaedra were going to keep staking more territory. He only had room for duty. For cold, merciless payback.
Or so he told himself, as his climax ebbed, only to flare back to life with even greater ferocity.
It staggered him, how savagely he wanted her all over again.
His need for her was animal, a feral hunger that he’d never known before.
“Mine,” he uttered roughly against her mouth, even though he knew it was no better than a lie.
She couldn’t be his. In a few hours she would be leaving and he would resume the life he’d been born and raised to lead.
Regardless of all those truths, he said the reckless word again, unable to bite it back. “Mine, Phaedra.”
She gasped his name on a broken sigh, and he was lost to that wild, predatory need.
He wanted her. All the way to his marrow, he wanted her.
God help him, now that he’d been inside her, he was going to crave her every day of his eternal life.
As his arousal surged with renewed greed for her, he didn’t know whether to curse the dawn that would take her away from him in the morning, or pray to hell it arrived soon.
CHAPTER 15
When Phaedra woke up at daybreak alone in the big bed of her guest room, she thought for a moment that making love with Micah had only been a dream. A fantastic dream, at that.
As soon as she moved on the soft mattress, all the little aches and dull throbs between her legs and elsewhere told her he’d been no dream. And she couldn’t really call the raw passion they’d shared making love, either. It had been something bigger. Something explosive and uncontrolled.
A primal, undeniable connection that still vibrated in her marrow.
In her very soul.
She had been so drunk on pleasure she hardly remembered walking back to her room with him after they’d rearranged their clothing and he’d escorted her through the empty corridors of the command center. The hard, still-hungered kiss he’d given her at her door had left the ghost of a bruise on her lips. She ran the tip of her tongue over the tenderness that lingered there now, savoring the reminder of Micah’s passion.
It was a bittersweet reminder, because although he hadn’t said as much, incredible as their time together was last night, it also felt like a goodbye.
Now that dawn had come, it might only be a scant handful of hours before she would be departing for Rome with Zael and Brynne. She didn’t know if Micah would seek her out before then. Her head said he wouldn’t, but her heart was filled with a foolish sense of hope.
After telling herself nearly since she’d arrived at the Order’s headquarters that she couldn’t wait to return home, now she found herself merely going through the motions of preparing to leave.
She took a long shower, then dressed for the imminent trip. Her small bag didn’t require much packing, so after arranging her long chestnut hair into a loose ponytail, she left her room to look for Zael and his mate.
She found them seated with Jordana in a cozy garden courtyard just outside the mansion’s large kitchen. As soon as Brynne saw Phaedra approaching the French doors that opened onto the sunlit stone patio, she motioned for Phaedra to join them.
“There you are,” Zael’s daywalker mate said, greeting her with a warm smile. “After the night you had, we were reluctant to wake you too early for breakfast.”
Faith, did they all know what she’d been doing with Micah? Phaedra hadn’t blushed in nearly a thousand years, but she couldn’t help the little jolt of embarrassment that seeped into her face.
She sat down in the vacant chair Brynne had indicated. The table had been set with a basket of freshly baked croissants and pastries, as well as a carafe of delicious-smelling coffee and a pot of aromatic tea.
“Please, help yourself,” Brynne said, nudging the basket of baked goods toward her.
Phaedra placed an apple-stuffed pastry on her plate, then poured some tea into the delicate bone china cup in front of her. As she took a sip, she felt all three pairs of eyes studying her in curious silence.
“How are you feeling?” Jordana asked, tilting her head.
“I’m fine. Is anything wrong?”
Even Zael appeared concerned. His golden brows furrowed over his tropical blue eyes. “I’ve never known anyone who could cast light the way Jordana says you did last night.”
“Oh.” So that’s what this was about. Phaedra exhaled, h
er awkwardness instantly put aside. “I didn’t realize I could do it, either.”
Zael grunted. “It’s an extraordinary gift. Not even your parents had that kind of power.”
“They didn’t?”
He slowly shook his head. “You had no idea you had this ability?”
She set her teacup down. “I didn’t think I’d been born with any particular gifts, other than the one all Atlanteans possess, to wield the energy that lives in our palms.”
“That’s gift enough for anyone, but this . . .” He stared at her in quiet contemplation for a moment. “Have you ever held one of the crystals in your hands before?”
“Never. Selene had forbidden anyone to touch the five that belonged to the realm, as I’m sure you know. The one that was taken to the colony was always kept under protection there, too. I never had any reason to touch any of the crystals.”
He nodded. “But your connection to them is unique among all of our people, Phaedra. Even Selene. Your parents gave a piece of themselves to create those power sources that have protected Atlantis and given our people the enduring light we require to survive. Maenos and Sindarah are a part of the crystals. By extension, so are you.”
“Do you have any idea how remarkable you are?” Brynne asked.
Jordana nodded, her expression a mix of gratitude and awe. “If you hadn’t been there last night, we would have lost everyone. If you hadn’t done what you did, Phaedra, I would have lost Nathan.”
Yet for all their astonishment and praise, the three of them seemed too sober for her peace of mind. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“The light,” Zael said. “That kind of power cannot be wielded without consequences. Any time one of us uses the power in our palms, it sends a ripple of energy through the rest of our people. It does not go unnoticed by any of our kind.”
Phaedra swallowed. She knew that, of course. It was a common acceptance among all Atlanteans, a truth she rarely considered because it was beyond rare that she ever summoned the light that lived in her hands.
Not because she had any reason to hide, but because she had willingly given up her Atlantean ways when she’d decided to make her life among the mortals with Niccolo all those decades ago.
Over the centuries, she had heard tales about Selene’s loyal soldiers using the energy trails of errant Atlantean fugitives in order to track them down and execute traitors to the realm. Phaedra had never feared for her own life when it came to the queen. Selene’s respect for Maenos and Sindarah had given Phaedra limited leeway with her, even after Phaedra had fled the realm for the colony.
But Zael and the members of the Order?
Selene would give no quarter to any of them.
“Oh, no. I’ve exposed you all to her wrath now. She has to know where I am, that I’m here with you and the Order.” She pushed her plate away, her appetite suddenly dried up. Her stomach pitched and rolled with the dread of what she’d done. “I never should’ve come here. Zael, you need to get me out of here right away. It won’t be safe for anyone if I stay. Selene will trace me here and send her legion straight to this compound to attack.”
He calmly placed his hand over hers. “If Selene wants to instigate a war with the Order, she will already be taking steps to make it happen. I can tell you from experience that she’s had that opportunity already, but stayed her hand.”
Brynne nodded in agreement, exchanging a private look with Zael before glancing at Phaedra. “What we can’t afford to risk now is that she might come after you for information to help her plan such an attack.”
“Or find a way to use your power against us,” Zael added.
That thought, more than any concern for her own safety, chilled her to her bones. “So, what does this mean, then?”
“You can’t go back to Rome now, Phaedra. It won’t be safe for you. It especially won’t be safe for the Order. Lucan has already made the decision. He feels, and I agree, the best place you can be is here, under the Order’s protection. Under my personal protection as well.”
She couldn’t argue with the logic, but she had responsibilities waiting for her back home. She had people in dangerous situations of their own who relied on her to keep them safe from harm. “What about the shelter? The women and children—”
Brynne nodded. “We’ve already informed Lazaro of the change in plans. Sia and Trygg will be relocating to your house to manage things until it’s safe for you to return.”
“When might that be?”
The fact that neither Brynne nor Zael had that answer for her only reinforced the seriousness of what the Order was facing. And now she had added to those troubles.
She could hardly stand the idea that by trying to protect Micah and the other warriors, instead she had potentially endangered them all.
“I don’t think I can eat right now,” she murmured, rising from the table on shaky legs. “Will you all excuse me, please?”
CHAPTER 16
It had only been a few hours since he’d been inside Phaedra and he already wanted her again.
Or, rather, still.
After seeing her to her guest room, he’d spent the remainder of the time before dawn bagging the remains of the target dummy in the weapons room, then trying to drown his hunger for Phaedra under an ice-cold shower for nearly an hour.
It hadn’t worked.
The only hope he had left was the four thousand miles that would be placed between them once she was delivered back to her home in Rome.
He had done his damnedest to steer clear of her, keeping busy down in the command center with Jax and Darion, and avoiding stepping foot in the mansion’s residence. The pair of nines he wore on his weapons belt had never been cleaner. The handcrafted titanium blade he’d dropped in a nomad’s village after dragging himself across miles of Siberian wilderness—the blade his father had returned to him—had been sharpened to the finest edge it had ever seen.
He glanced up from polishing the blade for the hundredth time and found Darion staring at him, a look of wry amusement on his face.
“Why don’t you just go talk to her?”
Micah went back to cleaning a nonexistent smudge from the blade. “Talk to who?”
“The female who’s got your dick in a knot.”
“She’ll be leaving soon for Rome with Zael and Brynne.” He looked at his friend and shrugged. “It’s for the best.”
Darion arched a dark brow. “The fact that you’re not even trying to deny there’s something going on between you and Phaedra says it all.”
He set the dagger down on the table harder than intended. “You got a point to make here, Dare?”
“Holy hell. You care about her.”
“Of course, he does,” Jax said, pausing his hira-shuriken target practice to weigh in. The fury that had cloaked them all after Eli’s killing had galvanized into a cold purpose for the slain warrior’s patrol partner. Despite his grief, Jax slid a smirk in Micah’s direction. “You can’t fight destiny, brother.”
Was that all it was?
Could this magnetic pull he felt toward Phaedra be explained away so easily?
Was his desire for her simply a product of the Dreamscape and some predetermined assertion that they were meant to be? Or did his feelings for her run deeper than some illusionary edict neither of them had any control over?
Nothing about last night felt that simple to dismiss.
The way her presence called to him now felt too real to be discounted as just some cosmic matchmaking gone awry.
And that made it all the more critical for him to keep his distance.
Four thousand miles would be a decent start.
It would have to be. And the sooner, the better.
“She’s probably packing up to go as we speak,” he said, feeling like a first-class asshole for purposely allowing her to leave without a word from him after what they’d shared a few hours ago. “Phaedra doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t belong with me. As for destiny, it’s got no fucki
ng place here, either.”
His sharp statement was punctuated by the vibrating buzz of his comm unit. He brought it to his ear and listened as Lucan Thorne summoned him for a one-on-one in the commander’s study upstairs.
“Yes, sir.” He slipped the device back into his pocket and shot a glance at his friends. “Duty calls.”
Not a minute too soon, as far as he was concerned. The last thing he wanted to do was stand around talking about his feelings.
Eli’s slaying and the ambush Opus Nostrum had executed demanded a swift and violent answer. If Micah had anything to say about it, he wanted to be on the front lines of the response.
Then he could get back to the business of dealing with whatever had attacked him and his team in the Deadlands a week ago.
With those thoughts putting a hard purpose in his stride, he headed up the corridor.
As he rounded a corner, he spotted Jenna coming out of the archive room. She held her fingers to her temples, then she leaned into the jamb of the open doorway.
Micah rushed to her side. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think so.” She frowned, slowly regaining her balance. “I’m okay.”
“You were feeling off last night too,” he reminded her.
“It’s nothing. Just a little woozy, like someone’s scratching at the inside of my skull. It comes and goes. I’ll feel better if I lie down for a few minutes.”
“Come on, I’ll walk you to your quarters.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I think I do, Jenna.” He held out his arm, fully expecting her to refuse. The fact that she didn’t raised more than a little concern in him. He walked her to the elevator, her arm still looped through his as they rode up to the main level. “Does Brock know you’ve been feeling like this?”
She gave a small laugh. “My overprotective mate knows everything.”
As if on cue, Brock was waiting outside the elevator doors as they opened. He reached in and gathered Jenna close.
“Thanks, man,” he said, giving Micah a grateful nod as the couple walked out together to make their way to their quarters.
