by Jackson, Pam
“I know what this is, sweetheart. Follow me.” He strode across the chamber and knelt in front of the iron strongboxes.
Andie watched him silently count the boxes. There were six, but only five were open, displaying their shiny, magnificent wealth for all who entered the secret cave to see. He pointed to the sixth strongbox. The grey iron lid was closed tightly. Its dimensions and appearance were identical to the others, and it definitely was deep enough and wide enough to store a tome like the Atros Fallis.
Andie’s jaw went slack, and she moved to Clay’s side and knelt down next to him. She reached for his hand and gently squeezed. “Clay, do you think … it’s really in there? I mean, it’s not even hidden in a secure or secret spot. Anyone who had access to Claudius’s cave could steal it!”
His eyes met hers, and he winked. “Hidden in plain sight ... genius, actually. Who would give a damn about the one strongbox that was closed when you have five that are overfilled with gold and silver? It’s more than you can carry out, so why waste your time lugging out a heavy strongbox when you can just reach in and fill a saddlebag with loose gold and silver coins? These boxes are damn heavy, and it would take at least two men to move one. Not to mention you’d have to hoist it out of that entry hole. Cash and carry is the way to go—just how thieves like it.”
He lifted Andie’s hand, splayed her fingers and gently placed the strange key in her healing palm.
“This is your op, Andie—take the shot,” he said, sounding more like he was talking to a fellow soldier or operative. Andie completely understood his meaning.
She stared deeply into his eyes and said, “I love you, Clay. And I couldn’t have done this without you.”
He blinked rapidly for a moment and then cupped her chin and moved in to kiss her dry lips. His mouth was soft and loving, as though in gratitude for her declaration of love to him.
He parted from her and said, “Always you’ve loved me, and I you—I tasted it in your tears, back at the sycamore grove. Never have I been so sure of anything in my life.” His long fingers ran up her cheek and stopped as they reached her hairline. “Now open that damn box before I choke from holding down my adrenaline,” he ground out in a gritty-sexy command. “And, oh yeah ... I’m gonna need to have you soon. I definitely didn’t get enough of you last night.” His eyes flashed with a seductive blaze.
Andie’s body was heated from the thrill of finding the treasure, the key, and possibly the Atros Fallis. The thought of Clay coming inside her again sent a darkened arousal to her gut and farther down. Last night was so intimate—having him moan and growl as he came gave her some kind of raw emotional power over him, and she knew she could easily become addicted to it. But now she needed to put those thoughts aside and open the strongbox.
She ran her fingers over the lid. The molded studs were still well riveted into the lead bands that edged the rectangular perimeter of the box, and the thickness of the lid was well over an inch. Regimentskasse—regimental fund—was etched in raised letters and adorned with a leaf pattern. The chest was German-made, and it had truly retained its durability over time. For a moment, she wondered if these strongboxes had made it to the colonies in the hull of one of the ships Frederick II, Landgrave of Hesse-Kassel, had used to carry Hessians to Staten Island, where they had fought for the British against the rebellious Patriots. But to hell with the origins of the strongbox. Her curiosity was sucking the air from her lungs, and she prayed that the Atros Fallis was in this damn box.
She moved the small, iron-hinged cover away from the keyhole and slid the key in. It was a perfect fit, and she felt the head of the key grip the internal locking tumblers. She turned the key, hardly believing it would work. Then the audible click of the tumblers aligning told her the strongbox was now unlocked.
“I can’t breathe, Clay,” she murmured, glancing at him for reassurance as she readied her hands to open the lid.
“You’re doing great, darlin’.” He nodded his head. “Just relax and take a slow breath. Open the box, Andie—this is the moment of truth.”
With trembling hands, she opened the lid, revealing the contents inside. The candlelight was dim, but she could see a small, dark leather book sitting on top of a bulky piece of tanned animal skin. She removed the small book and realized that it was a diary similar to Katherine’s. Gingerly, she opened to a page and quickly glanced over the rust-tinted words. It was in English—eighteenth century English—and her eyes focused on several key words: Katherine, treasure and rebellion. This was Claudius’s diary, and she closed the small book and held it against her chest protectively. Hopefully soon, she would read his words and feel every bit of pain, passion and principle Claudius had experienced before his death. But first, she needed to know what else was in this strongbox.
“What is that? Is it the Atros Fallis?” Clay questioned. He looked at her quizzically as she placed the diary into the same breast pocket that contained Uncle Owen’s map.
“No, it’s Claudius’s journal. But there is something else in the box. Look!” She dug her fingertips between the metal lining of the box and the soft deerskin sheath surrounding the rectangular object. Her fingers squeezed beneath the object until she was able to grasp it. She felt Clay’s large hand grab hold of her wrist to help her pull up on its weight. It finally broke free from its cramped quarters, and Andie lifted it out of the strongbox.
“Please, please, don’t let me down now, Claudius,” Andie said, hoping that his ghost was still guiding her. “Spooky” couldn’t even begin describe the feeling she was having at this moment. She couldn’t see it, but in her heart she had felt the spirit of Claudius from the minute she had stepped with Clay onto the hilltop. Though the ghostly whispers she was hearing in her head were making her feel uneasy, she had to trust them—she had to finish what she had started.
She rapidly clawed at the deerskin covering, removing it to reveal a corroded, green and black metal tome. The outline of the ouroboros was visible, the rough lines set like stone in the copper. Its heavy weight let Andie know that most of the tome was oxidized. The pinkish copper under its discolored protective layer would have to be chemically treated to reveal the accurate symbols of the Phrygian language that were engraved into its soft metal pages ages ago. And Tivoli and his terrorist client probably had the laboratory all set and ready to go.
She carefully pulled open the rigid cover to examine the internal copper plates. They were perfect! To her amazement, some of the ancient Phrygian words were still legible. The binding was secured at the edges of the copper pages with the smallest of rivets and copper thread. Andie had never seen any other ancient tome put together quite like this one; it was a work of art in itself, never mind the text inside. The artisan had been a master engineer, a gifted visionary.
“Woman, you amaze me,” Clay said, breaking the silence that had lingered between them as she examined the Atros Fallis. “You found it! You did it, babe.”
Andie turned to face Clay, his brown eyes sparkling under long, dark lashes. He was unbelievably handsome with his solid, square jaw and those perfect pink lips that just hours before were kissing her with an erotic, lustful intent.
She replayed their night together in her mind and felt the craving for his touch on her body. She wanted him now—needed him with a crushing compulsion that only he could indulge. But this time the dark part of her spirit was urging her to dominate and ravage him and then to be dominated with that same animalistic demand. The logical investigator inside her did not know where this erotic need came from, but this entire situation had been illogical from the second she had met Clay. Why not surrender to her desires and give in to her hunger? Maybe it had something to do with the magic of the Atros Fallis, and maybe not—but Clay was her obsession right now, and she would not be denied.
The adrenaline and tension that had built over the last few days was being released with the power of a swollen river pushing at a rickety wooden dam—and it was just about to burst. She felt her sex tingle wi
th the urgency to have him push hard and piston into her again and again. She wanted to be sweetly punished, the way he’d pledged to her when she had come back for him on the snowmobile in the grove.
His radiant stare became aggressive and dark—just what Andie wanted. He’d read her mind. Perfect!
“Mmm, baby, you’re in a bad way, aren’t you?” Clay licked his lips and pulled the Atros Fallis from Andie’s hands. He placed it on the rock floor next to the strongboxes. “I know you, Andie, I know just what you’re made of ... what makes you tick. And you and I, we aren’t so different. See, it’s like a game, and when you win, there needs to be a release of all that energy and tension it took to be the best at it. And I know just what you need, darlin’. But Andie, I don’t know if I can go slow and easy with you. I have never burned like this before, and I will not be able to control my need.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and focused on her face. “So tell me now if that thought scares you, because I’ll go back out through that hole and wait it out in the cool air ‘til I’m able to touch you without wanting to fuck you so hard.”
Andie swallowed the knot in her throat and shifted to lean close to him, her lips twitching with the anticipation of kissing him. She whispered, “I don’t want you to be gentle, I want to feel everything you can give me, Clay. Treat me like your prize, and I will do the same.”
He kissed her with a hot, open mouth and growled triumphantly as his strong hands tore at her clothes. He unzipped her hiking pants and pushed them down, nearly ripping her lace panties off her hips as they, too, fell to the floor. She heard the metallic sound of his own zipper being undone and the squeak of the nylon release on his thigh holster.
His fingers roamed. Pushing and pulling her, he cupped the angle of her jaw and kissed her with demanding force as she kissed just as hard back. Never had she felt this way before. It was raw and dangerous, on the very edge of pain, but the pleasure of it was too much and she wanted more.
He guided them both, without leaving her lips, toward the grand dining table and pushed the small of her back against the solid edge of the tabletop.
“Turn around,” he growled. She loved the way his rugged command sounded as she obeyed.
His hands pushed up under her turtleneck sweater, and he pushed her lacey bra away from her breasts. His cool fingertips pinched at her swollen nipples, and she groaned with pleasure.
“Harder. Make me come, Clay. Squeeze harder.” Her nipples burned from the pressure of his squeeze as she felt her clit swell and pulse to be touched next. She couldn’t believe that just with his touch to her erect nipples, she was on the verge of climax. Her senses were overflowing from every stroke of his fingers, and she arched her back so that her head fit against the curve of his neck.
He grabbed her long hair and knotted it in his fist, tugging her head back so he could speak closely into her ear. “Mine,” he whispered breathlessly. “Always ... no one else but me.”
Wonderful heat flowed over her body, and she loved how he handled her like a possession. Tivoli had tried to persuade her to play that role, but he had just wanted her to be an object that he collected. This was different—this was magical and enduring. She loved Clay, and now she understood the feeling of being loved and truly desired. The old Andie would have rejected any type of domination by a man, but this she wanted from Clay. She felt loved instead of owned. He would never hurt her or allow her to be hurt without putting his own life on the line.
“Yes,” she responded, thrilled with his claim on her. She needed to own him as well. “And you are mine, you belong to no one else but me.”
Her words must have surprised him, because his strong kisses along her neck suddenly stopped, and he released her hair. He groaned with approval as she felt one of his large hands clasp her bare hip. His free hand found her sex—warm, wet and inviting. And with one hard thrust, he drove himself inside of her fully, to the hilt.
She cried out with such pleasure she thought the cavern walls would cave in on them from the piercing echo. She leaned over the tabletop so Clay could steady himself as he continued to pump at her in a hard, desperate rhythm—filling her slick passage with every ounce of his raging cock.
She climaxed, and searing heat washed over her skin, making her sweat in the cool air of the damp cavern.
“Again. Come for me again, Andie. I’m not done fucking you.” His words were urgent, and she knew that his desire needed to be filled again—as well as hers.
He squeezed her hips, and his thighs were taut as they smacked against the back of her legs. The pleasure and pain were so intense for her that there was no control, just the maddening feeling of wanting him more and more as he continued his deep thrusts.
She felt a hand move around her right hip and settle between her legs. Now he was definitely going to send her into oblivion as his fingertips began to circle and gently squeeze her swollen and sensitive clit. A jolt of electricity shot up her spine, and she felt every muscle tighten as she readied to climax again. Her body was no longer her own, and the words coming from her mouth surprised her as she cried out, “Don’t stop, I’m almost there.”
He moved his fingertips away and pulled his steel-hard shaft from her. “You’re being greedy again, Andie,” he said teasingly.
He turned her to face him, his lips barely brushing over her swollen, heated lips. His hands pulled her hips close to his so she could feel him, hot and strong, against her. “I want to face you, baby, see your face when you cry out my name,” he said, purring like a confident tiger.
Damn, he was teasing her, and it was more than she could take. Her limbs still felt heavy, and she knew she would instantly climax again if he touched her in any way.
She was uninhibited with him—she was having the most amazing sex ever in a cold, wet cave, and the sweet cruelty of denying her the pleasure of an orgasm made him more captivating. But remembering his powerful groans as he pushed into her made Andie also realize that he, too, was just as far gone. And it was all so very good.
Chapter 21
She was beautiful, sexy, and brilliant—with just the right amount of nerve and the boldness he needed to keep his dick erect all day long. Every glance or smile she cast his way ignited his arousal. Shit, he sported a hard-on earlier this morning just from watching her put on her snowshoes.
He was done; no woman, ever, had made him feel this fucking alive. And lately, he had felt like a robotic drone, heartless, only useful for one thing—the job. Lying and cheating were what he did best to get what he wanted, to make a case against the foul scumbags who preyed on the weak. The fabricated undercover life he had created in the Ukraine and here in the States was what killed Aksana. Behind one dead enemy would stand another one, just waiting to move up in the ranks to face him in battle. He would never be done with any of it if he didn’t let it go and move on to another place in his life.
The nightmares, the constant feeling of unrest—he could finally put it behind him and truly be happy, truly feel something other than malevolence and anger. No more deceit—he was done with that life, and as soon as he was able to get Andie out of harm’s way, he would tell her how he felt. He would turn in his shield and find another career—all for Andie. Hell, he could be a well-armed, small-town shoe salesman if she liked. And that made him smile.
A soulless man who now had a soul, and a mate. Andie.
And now he was going make her his again. This damp cave could’ve been a suite at the Four Seasons for all he cared, it still wouldn’t have changed how much and for how long he wanted to fill her with his stiff cock and his blazing seed.
He stared into those emerald eyes, her pouty lips brushing up against his as he felt her taut muscles quiver under her soft skin. He was loving every minute of it; just knowing that she was desperately waiting for him to finish her made his own red-hot dick move with a tell that he was so close, too.
Her eyes flashed as she felt the length of him move involuntary against the soft curve of her hip, and she r
eached for his face, pressing her persuasive lips to his. Then she swept the teasing tip of her tongue between the seam of his mouth, invading him voraciously. Her free hand tangled in his hair and tugged him roughly with need as her kiss became deeper and more controlled. Then she pulled away, leaving him breathless and subjugated. Her riveting gaze was unsympathetic to his inflamed cock that was pressing up against her hip just begging to be let in.
Shit. He realized he had given her the keys to the castle. She would play his little game of cat and mouse, but now it was her turn to tease him, and he didn’t know how long he could last. He’d better start doing fractions in his head again, or he would come like a greenhorn at a peep show. And that was not fucking happening, not with Andie. He would give her whatever she needed to experience full ecstasy—and he would tell his balls to shut the fuck up and wait.
She pulled away from him and stepped back against the dining table. With a quick bounce, she sat herself on the elegant but sturdy table and slowly began to remove her turtleneck and bra. She was now completely naked, and she raised her knees against her chest, covering her round, full breasts.
A devilish smile appeared on her face, and she put a straight finger to his own T-shirt, wordlessly telling him to lose it. He obeyed and couldn’t help but swallow hard at the anticipation of easing his throbbing erection into her again. He wanted this to last a little longer, then he was taking her caveman style. And somehow he knew she would like that, too.
He shivered slightly as her soft fingertips stroked the dark hair on his chest, teasing him until he grabbed himself and readied his solid shaft to enter her soft layers. He watched her slowly spread her knees, baring all of her to him, and she leaned back a little with straight arms and palms flat against the dark tabletop.
