“Well, sorry. It’s not every day a man grabs me and drags me around the ocean.”
He laughed, and the aura of moonlight behind him seemed to ripple with the sound. “Indeed?”
There was something very odd about this man. His manner of speaking and the way his eyes and body seemed to shimmer and radiate an irresistible energy, for sure. Also, she had the feeling he was not telling her the whole story about his sudden appearance.
Her eyes narrowed. “You saw sharks underwater from this far away?”
“I have excellent senses.”
As if to demonstrate, he inhaled briefly.
For instance, I can smell your arousal. I can feel that you are already moist and ready for passion.
The words were completely inside her head, though spoken in his voice. She jerked back, ready to blast him with a retort, but his expression was completely blank. He gave no indication that he’d said—or thought—anything. She was undoubtedly, seriously losing her mind. Swallowed too much seawater, perhaps.
“I should go.”
She sat up, but he shot a hand out. His fevered palm infused her stomach with a dangerous tingle. “Not yet. First, you must recover.”
She caught the conflicted expression he flashed before pulling his hand away.
“Why? I’m not sick or injured.” She said the protest even as she was lying back down. “Am I in some sort of shock?” Lord knew her libido certainly was headed that direction. “Maybe I need medical attention.”
“If you were in shock, I would be covering you with my body to warm you.”
She rolled her eyes. “If that’s not the biggest line I’ve ever heard.”
“It would be the quickest way. My body temperature is higher than that of a man.”
Well, she would give him that. His motor definitely ran hot.
Then she frowned at the mistake in his words. “Don’t you mean higher than that of a normal man?”
Potent lips curved upward. “I always say exactly what I mean.”
Lexie rose up on her elbows. “Right. So you’re saying you’re not a man?”
She made an obvious point of sliding her gaze over every muscled inch of him. The sarcastic gesture seemed harmless enough until her eyes swept up thickly corded thighs to the bulge in the dark swim trunks he wore. He wasn’t only endowed well enough to believe he’d made a deal with the devil for it, but the outline of his rigid cock strained against the fabric. Jesus, he looked almost painfully erect. He wanted her.
She gasped, and the soft laugh deep in his throat shot a tingle between her thighs. The voice she’d heard in her mind moments before was right. Her sex was moist, and the thought of passion definitely wasn’t far off. The sound of her pulse fired louder in her ears. What was this, some side effect of the near death thing?
She studied the man’s face. He’d saved her life and heated her blood, but she didn’t even know his name.
“What are you, then?” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “If not a man.”
He leaned over her, his head dipping low enough that, for a moment, she both feared he was going to kiss her and hoped for it. “I am what you are feeling for me right now.”
Confusion and energy swirled around her, and she struggled for a moment to catch enough breath to answer. “I don’t understand. Who are you?”
“Feel it.”
Her eyes fluttered closed, and oh, she felt. She could sense him as though every inch of his body hovered just millimeters from her own, igniting every nerve ending with a slow, sensual burn.
“Feel it, Lex Ann.”
His deep timbre penetrated her being until every fiber wanted release, but his words set off warning klaxons in the back of her mind. “How do you know who I am?”
His whisper came from just beside her ear, shooting desire through her. “The same way you know who I am.”
“I don’t know who you are,” she breathed.
“You know me quite well. Feel it. Act on it.”
The command compelled her, and the awareness of power flowing around them intoxicated her in a very literal sense. With her eyes closed she felt all her other senses heighten, senses that reached out like groping fingers to experience the full depths of the potency around her. She smelled his scent of incense and lemon musk, along with the heavy perfume of sultry island flora. The orchestra of sea and cicada choirs and unfamiliar birds mixed with the sound of his long, deliberate breaths. A warm breeze caressed her almost-dry skin, prickling up the hairs on her arms and tightening already pebbled nipples deliciously. It was magic, surely, and every molecule of nuance built on the rest until she was spinning with a heady, drunken delight. And every bit of it was decidedly, powerfully sexual.
Her hands began to move of their own accord over hypersensitive, salt-bathed flesh. Her moan joined the night chorus, and her head rolled back and forth while she ran fingers over her still-damp bikini top. She tugged aside the triangles of fabric to find her nipples hard and cold from the chill of the sea. A stab of pleasure licked between her thighs when she barely allowed her fingertips to flick over her nipples. Her sex began to throb, begging for attention while she pleasured her breasts. Twisting a nipple with one hand, she slid the other hand down her stomach. She pushed her hips upward and let her fingers disappear under her soaked swimsuit. A loud murmur of male approval followed when she found her clit, and she felt her peak nearing as she circled her finger over the tip of it. Her other hand pushed the fabric away from her slit, and she plunged two fingers inside to thrust and massage her hot inner walls while she continued to work her clit. Her breath came in ragged gasp-moans now, and the man’s labored breathing and groans joined in and drove her arousal higher.
Her fingers grew slippery with fluid, and she fucked herself faster, writhing on the sand until she shot over the edge. She cried out as the throb exploded into a million slivers of ecstasy, but still she was not satisfied. A fresh chill swept over her as sweat bathed her, and the mere sensation of goose bumps prickling her flesh jolted her into another orgasm. She made guttural sounds while the man gave a shout that passed over her body in a palpable shudder.
She was still fondling herself when the sound of approaching laughter yanked her out of her sex-drugged haze. She sat straight up while tugging the fabric of her suit back into place, panting and shocked at what she’d just done. A glance up showed a couple that was walking hand in hand along the shoreline, but they didn’t seem to notice her. Thank god they hadn’t seen her unscheduled solo act.
Except it hadn’t exactly been solo, had it? Nor had it gone totally unseen. Embarrassment and anger vied for pole position as her head flew around to hand out a few choice words to the instigator of this shameful behavior.
The words never materialized. The man—or whatever he was—had disappeared like he’d never been there.
Chapter Six
Gods should not have things happen to them by accident. Indeed, many believed it impossible, that anything unexpected a god encountered was merely the Fates’ failure to pass along an immortal memo. Grayel, however, believed a god’s actions could have accidental consequences, for that was exactly how he’d found the woman he intended to make his mate for all time.
He hadn’t meant to fall asleep near a portal to the earth realm, for one thing. Had the Fates sprinkled sleeping dust over his head to deliberately turn the wheel of destiny? He thought not. They had far too much to do to be troubled by the need to toy with a man who already had his marital future set, immortal though he may be. That he was a god who stood to inherit the rule of a realm, well, perhaps that position might be worth some meddling. But why stick a mortal in his path when it would do little more than cause havoc with his kin and apparent unrest in the realm? Surely not for the sole cause of seeing him be as happily in love as a god could be.
And he was in love, to the full depth of his being. Madly in love with the woman he’d “stumbled” over the day he’d waited by the portal for a friend to return fro
m the earth realm, something Grayel hadn’t bothered with for centuries.
When he drifted off while waiting, he'd inadvertently sent his subconscious adrift through the portal, catapulting his essence through space into a dream in the mortal realm. Her dream, one where she was frustrated by work demands he hadn’t fully understood. Nevertheless, her unhappiness was crystal clear. Her uncommon beauty was a throwback to a distant time, as though she’d been transported right from the land he’d known all too well.
Though in his dream he stood in a large merchant store, he envisioned her as a Celtic goddess, a maiden running free outside the keep where his true mother and father had sent him to be raised. He pictured her rejoicing in the meadows wearing a simple emerald gown, gathering herbs with bare feet and a crown of wildflowers on top of the wild crimson curls spilling down her back. And he imagined laying her down in a soft meadow of heather, peeling the gown over her shoulders and sucking breasts with bright pink nipples and a delightful sprinkling of freckles. He would kiss every one until she wound her hands through his long hair and cried out his name.
No, this had been no ordinary mortal woman. She’d been sent to him straight from his ancient Celtic heritage.
In that first meeting, he’d stood watching her somewhat disjointed dream. When he saw an exchange with a rude patron culminate in a glassy sheen of tears, he’d walked up to her and stroked a single hand down a cheek as soft as a rose petal. He’d sought to show her mere kindness, but when she turned her heart-stopping cerulean eyes on him, he was lost.
In the last several months, he’d gone to her most every night. He learned to contact her without falling asleep himself, possible as long as he was near a portal and focusing the proper energy. Yet now, with the promise of claiming her in the flesh so close it was almost reality, he’d been without her cries of passion for two nights. First he’d been detained with routine matters that occasionally kept him from being able to visit the portal. Then his delay in visiting the mortal realm had prevented the face-to-face meeting he’d longed for. So today he’d made it a point to return to the outer gateway and reach out as soon as he knew she’d be sleeping. Only it hadn’t worked.
Why couldn’t he reach her? Perhaps it shouldn’t weigh on him so heavily. There were a number of factors which could explain the difficulty. Lack of concentration on his part, for one, and he had to admit he had a good deal on his mind. Still, he had cleared his thoughts as he always did, and didn’t feel as though they were any more scattered than normal when he sought the bond.
Another possibility was insomnia, though after many hours of trying he felt for sure she would have fallen into at least a restless sleep. Interference on a supernatural scale could disrupt the bond, though despite the issues with his father and Malanon, things were as peaceful as they ever got in an immortal province teeming with supernatural agendas, politics, and grandstanding. Were Lex Ann gravely injured or deceased, he would know it. Her essence was steady and appeared normal. She was just unavailable to him, like a busy signal on an earther’s telephone line. Which brought him to the most probable cause for the interruption.
Someone had “dialed” her thoughts first.
He stared out over the courtyard, watching the rainbow fountain dance with a joyous laughter he was not in a mood for. There were beings from immortal realms—and a few from the earthen plane—who could contact Lexie’s thoughts by dream-jacking or other methods. But it seemed highly coincidental that of all times for someone else to suddenly do so, it should be just after he’d revealed her identity to another immortal. One who knew Grayel had been successful in carrying on an affair with her in her dreams—and who seemed intrigued by it.
He knew he’d felt leery about Lust, and hence had limited his involvement with the Fere-Theo. But aside from not trusting the passion god’s motives enough to let him directly execute the ritual, he hadn’t stopped to consider that the being might actually betray him. Was he trying to claim Lexie for his own while Grayel sat around twiddling his robes in the other realm?
A burning swell of disdain spread through him, infecting every part of his body with jealousy. Lust had better hope he wasn’t planning anything of the sort, or he was about to find out about the several ways an immortal could still be robbed of his life. Or maybe in Lust’s case, the better way to kill him would be to leave him alive and separate him from the organ that guided the vast majority of his actions.
There was one way to find out.
He stalked to his high-backed chair and initiated a mental link into the supernatural beyond. While he could not touch the mind of a human from this distance under ordinary circumstances, an immortal could contact another—and a higher being could easily summon one of lesser power.
He felt the demigod’s approach and sat back, pleased that the call had been answered promptly. He would not have long to wait to determine whether there would be a sacrifice of immortal flesh this night.
The being was announced at the archway by a house servant, and as was fitting for his lower position, he did not advance without invitation. He kept his head bowed in a proper show of respect.
“I came as quickly as I was able,” Love said.
Grayel nodded and bid him entrance. “I have an important matter to discuss with you. I trust you will be forthcoming, or know the consequences for failing to do so.”
“Of course.”
Grayel waited a few beats, measuring the other man’s gaze. Love’s gray-blue eyes seemed to hold genuine question. No deceit or hidden motives were evident, and the demi truly seemed unaware of the reason for his summons. Perhaps Grayel’s suspicions were wrong.
“Someone was joined to Lex Ann’s mind when I attempted contact,” Grayel said. “Unless I am mistaken, another immortal was penetrating her thoughts.”
Now Love’s stance changed. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and averted his gaze. The body language seemed clear.
Grayel raised a brow. “You know of this.”
Love’s nod was more of a bow. “Yes.”
Grayel was on his feet, almost stepping on his tan linen robes when he stalked over to the blond demigod. “I knew it. Tell me he hasn’t given me reason to see his cock lying in a pool of immortal blood at my feet. Tell me he hasn’t bedded my intended, in dreams or otherwise.”
Love’s gaze rose again, confusion again evident. “Who, my lord?”
“Lust, of course. I sensed he was not trustworthy to serve as my Shah-Hai ‘Na for the goddess mating. Yet I had no idea he would seek to take what is mine and spoil her the minute my back was turned.”
Love paused a moment before answering. “Much as I understand your concern about Lust’s proclivities—and rightly so, I might add—he was not the one who made the dream bond with Lex Ann.” There was a pause. “I did.”
Grayel didn’t even try to hide his shock. He took a step back, his jaw falling open. “You?”
“Please, I can explain.”
Grayel nodded and flexed his fists. “I think that would be most wise.”
“You asked us to make your mate comfortable while you were away. I sensed she was greatly distressed by your absence. I merely sought to reassure her.”
“And?”
Love shook his head. “And nothing. I just hope I was able to ease her unhappiness until your return.”
Grayel’s heart pounded faster. “And just how did you ‘ease her unhappiness’?”
“I have not betrayed you, I swear it. I only spoke to her, told her to trust in her heart. She was full of sorrow that you have not met her on the island, and fears you are naught but a specter. Not certain whether she would grow despondent enough to leave or do something else desperate, I connected with her mind to let her know her dreams of love were not in vain. That’s all.”
Though the tingle of murderous rage he’d started out with was fast subsiding, he still felt sharp stabs of jealousy he was far from used to. He’d shared the beds of many women, but he’d never before felt
enraged by the thought of another man’s hands on one. Or even just inside her mind, filling her dreams with ideas and influence he had no part of.
“Make no mistake,” Grayel said, “the next being who tries to forge a union with my mate’s dreams will not be pleased with my swift retribution.”
Love bowed, deep this time. “Please accept my regret and apologies. I sought only to help, and intended no offense to you whatsoever. If you feel my interference deems me unworthy of being your Shah-Hai ‘Na, I completely understand.”
Grayel blew out a breath, rubbing a hand over his hair. “No. I accept your explanation, and your amends. I trust you are an honorable deity who seeks no part of my mate outside your role in her elevation to goddess.”
“As it is so.”
“Just be sure she is not otherwise detained when I seek the dream bond with her on the morrow.” He hesitated. “She is quite distressed, you say?”
Love nodded. “To the point of questioning her sanity.”
Grayel closed his eyes for a moment. “Then I require one more service from you. I cannot cross the barrier again until the night after next. At that time, it is my desire to conduct the ritual and bring back my goddess bride. I need you to keep her close in sight until then, make sure she does not ‘leave or do something else desperate,’ as you said.”
Love’s eyes widened. “Keep her close? How?”
“You’re a god. I’ll leave the details to you. Just be sure she understands she needs to wait for me.”
“What shall I tell her?”
He blew out another breath. “The truth. All of it. I will go to her tomorrow night and explain what I can in our dream bond. But as you well know, our words in that venue are severely limited. They stray into surreal metaphor. A full explanation prior to my return will require someone who can speak with her in the mortal realm. Can you do it? Tell her of her destiny, and that I await our bond?”
Love hesitated. “I will say what I can to convey your message.”
Allister, J. Rose - Immortal Menage [Immortal Paradise 4] (Siren Publishing PolyAmour) Page 5
