Dark Warrior Mine (The Children Of The Gods Paranormal Romance Series Book 7)

by I. T. Lucas

  Remote in hand, she watched his biceps as he unscrewed the cork and pulled it out, then poured wine into the two tumblers and handed her one.

  Leaning forward, he raised his glass and clinked it with hers. “Cheers.”

  Up close, the smell of his cologne was doing a number on her, and she had the urge to bring her nose to where his shirt was unbuttoned and take a good sniff.

  “Cheers,” she said and looked away. “Is it time to press play?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Nathalie skipped over the commercials and the credits to the beginning of the movie.

  She’d wanted to see this one since the first commercial she’d seen for it. But being so painfully aware of Andrew, sitting just a few inches from her, she wasn’t paying attention to what was going on the screen—it was an effort just to breathe—and if anyone had asked her what the movie was about, she wouldn’t know.

  Perhaps she should just turn and kiss him, get it over with so she could take a full breath again. It was too intense, this pretending to be watching because they were supposed to be on their first date and it was too soon for kissing. Nerve-racking.

  “Are you okay?” He turned a pair of concerned eyes on her.

  “Yes, why would you think I’m not?” She forced a smile and lifted the wine to her lips. Thank God, her hand only felt like it was shaking but didn’t.

  Apparently, Andrew didn’t find her answer satisfactory, and as he regarded her for a long moment, she was so hyperconscious of his scrutiny that her palms turned clammy.

  “I’m making you uncomfortable.” It was a statement, not a question.

  How the hell was she supposed to respond? Say yes? But then he’d ask why, and she’d be forced to admit things she absolutely, positively didn’t want to disclose. But if she said no, he would know she was lying.

  Nathalie opted to say neither. “It’s just that it’s a little stuffy in here. I’ll open the window.” She put her tumbler down on the tray table and got up on a pair of rubbery legs.

  Pushing the window open, she discreetly wiped her sweaty palms on the sill and leaned out, breathing in the cool night air. Outside, a possum was grunting as it rummaged through refuse spilled from an overturned trashcan, defending its territory from other denizens of the alley. And further down, two cats were engaged in a fierce battle, probably over a similar treasure.

  The scent of rotting organic matter, or perhaps it was the stink of the possum, wafted up, and she contemplated closing the window. But the truth was that her small den was indeed stuffy, and regardless of the stench, the cool air was helping calm her frayed nerves.

  Suddenly, Andrew was behind her, caging her between his outstretched arms as he braced them on the window frame on each side. She hadn’t even heard him approach. He leaned closer, the heat of his body warming her back and his masculine cologne scrambling her brain. Without making contact, he dipped his head so his cheek was almost touching hers. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he demanded in a tone that brooked no argument.

  Nathalie closed her eyes and turned around. Shielded behind her own eyelids, she gathered her courage and lifted her face to his. “Kiss me.”

  Chapter 26: Andrew

  “Kiss me,” she said in that beautiful, sexy voice of hers—her lids closed and her lips parted as she waited for him to deliver what she’d asked for.

  Fuck his promise not to touch her tonight. After all, she’d asked, hadn’t she? And he wasn’t going to say no. Nathalie seemed like she needed this with a desperation he couldn’t decipher but welcomed enthusiastically. The why of it wasn’t something he was about to dwell on while she was waiting for him to make his move.

  She wanted to be kissed. He wanted to kiss her. End of story.

  Tentatively, still bracing against the window frame, Andrew held his chest a scant inch away from her heaving breasts as he leaned into her and dipped his head. Feeling his breath on her face, Nathalie parted her lips a little more, inviting, coaxing him to plunder. But he was in no rush, and touching his lips to hers, his kiss was soft, gentle, almost chaste.

  Nathalie’s lids popped open, her eyes blazing with pent-up desire. A second later, her hands shot up, plowing into his hair as she smashed her lips against his.

  Who knew that sweet Nathalie was a lustful little minx? And it seemed that she needed a real kiss, not a tease.

  A soft moan escaped her throat as he dropped his hands to her waist and gathered her into his arms, bringing her tight against his body. Andrew didn’t plunge in right away, even though she obviously wanted him to. Instead, he licked at her lips, first the bottom one, then the top, exploring, discovering her treasures one at a time.

  Sometimes, delaying pleasure made it more intense.

  He half expected Nathalie to take over, but she sagged into him, boneless, and let her lids drop down again. When he finally breached her mouth, it was his turn to moan, and as his hands wandered down to cup her luscious butt cheeks he couldn’t help himself and gently kneaded the firm yet giving flesh.

  When he squeezed a little harder, Nathalie jerked in surprise, but then she relaxed into his palms and even pressed herself against his erection with a barely there undulation.

  If she were any other woman, he would’ve been undressing her by now, reaching for her bra hook to release her breasts and suck on her nipples, but instinct, or maybe a subconscious hunch, was guiding him to go slow, to let her set the pace.

  There was an unpracticed innocence to her enthusiasm that was giving him pause. He couldn’t put his finger on it, or perhaps the clues just didn’t add up. Because it was impossible that a woman Nathalie’s age hadn’t been kissed before. But even though his hands itched to palm her breasts, and even though he was pretty sure she would’ve welcomed the touch, on the remote chance that she wouldn’t, he kept them down on her delectable ass as he deepened the kiss.

  When he finally released her mouth, Nathalie’s head dropped back on her shoulders, and Andrew had a feeling she would’ve crumpled to the floor if he wasn’t holding her up.

  “Wow, it was even better than I imagined,” she said in a dreamy voice.

  He chuckled. “Am I such a good kisser?”

  She lifted her head and opened her eyes, her swollen lips curling up in a smile. “The best I ever had.”

  Now, that he didn’t mind hearing. Not at all. Especially since she was telling the truth.

  Still holding her close, he filled his chest with air and straightened. “Did you see that? I just got taller by an inch.”

  She giggled, but then shook her head and pressed her lips tight as if an unpleasant thought had just drifted through her mind.

  “What’s the matter, Nathalie? Talk to me.”

  “I wish I could,” she whispered into his chest.

  Andrew brought his hand to the back of her head and started caressing it gently. “I only want to know if there is something I’m doing wrong, or if there is something that you would like me to do. I’m not a mind reader, you need to tell me.”

  On a sigh, she closed her eyes and rested her cheek on his chest. “You’re perfect, everything about you is. But I need a little more time.”

  Good, so it wasn’t him. But what could it be? He wanted to know, the investigator in him felt a burning need to question her until she told him everything there was to know about her. But he couldn’t demand it from her. After all, she wasn’t a suspect, and he was still a stranger to her.

  Not for long, though.

  “I understand. You barely know me, of course, you can’t trust me. Yet.”

  “But I do. I know you, don’t ask me how, but I do, deep down in here.” She pointed to her heart. “I just need more time. For me.”

  He cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her lips gently. “Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.”

  She nodded, but her smile looked sad, resigned.

  Now he really needed to know. Perhaps he should go back to the office and dig deeper for more information about her
.

  Don’t be a jerk, Andrew Spivak. She’ll tell you when she’s ready.

  Chapter 27: Nathalie

  Was she really going to tell Andrew all of her shameful secrets?

  Like that she’d never even been kissed before?

  Nathalie felt bitter anger bubble up from deep down in her tummy—toward her mother, her father, the cruel fate that had her lose so many years’ worth of kisses like this.

  Not that there was a chance in hell any other guy could’ve been as good of a kisser as Andrew.

  But still, she could’ve been enjoying this for many, many years, this and much more. If not for the damn voices in her head; if not for her mother divorcing her father and then disappearing from their lives altogether; if not for the dementia that had been stealing the pillar of strength that used to be her father away from her—one piece at a time.

  For years, she’d been keeping the resentment bottled up inside, convincing everyone, including herself, that she was fine, that she was strong—a survivor. When in fact, she was lonely and scared of spending the rest of her life alone. With no one but Tut to keep her company.

  Where is he anyway?

  For a moment, panic gripped her. Had he abandoned her as he’d threatened he would? As annoying as Tut was, Nathalie couldn’t imagine life without him. She’d be completely alone.

  Lifting her head, she looked into Andrew’s concerned blue eyes. Small wrinkles fanned around them, evidence of not only his age but also his propensity to smile. He was definitely a keeper, and if she had any brains at all, she’d reel him in and do everything in her power to win his heart. A chance like this wouldn’t present itself ever again.

  Kind of like Scheherazade, she needed to tempt him with a thousand tales, one for every night, until he would fall in love with her, or at least get so accustomed to her company that he wouldn’t be able to imagine life without her.

  This was so unlike her, this plotting of entrapping a hapless guy, weaving a net like some spider woman. But just like the legendary Scheherazade, Nathalie was a survivor, and survivors seized opportunities—unlike victims who let good fortune slip through their fingers while they were busy wallowing in self-pity.

  She stroked a finger over the old scar on Andrew’s chin. “I’ll make you a deal. Every evening, you’ll tell me the story behind one of these, and I’ll tell you one of mine.”

  His broad grin was something between wolfish and boyish, adorable and dangerous. It sent tingles straight to her core.

  “So, I get to come back?”

  “Sure you do. You think I’m going to let you get away so easy?”

  “Who said I want to get away? On the contrary, you’ll find it very difficult to get rid of me. I’m a stubborn guy, and once I set my eyes on something I like, I go for it, all out.”

  She tilted her head a little. “Did you just tell me that you like me?”

  “I more than like you. I want you.” He ran his finger over her lips. “These are addictive, I could spend hours kissing you,” he husked. Reaching for her braid, he brought it forward and draped it over her breast. “I’m dying to see all this beautiful hair free of the braid, cascading over your shoulders and down your back. Preferably, while you’re wearing nothing, but for now I will settle for the first part.”

  Oh, wow, Andrew was moving fast. They were on their first so-called date, and he was already talking about wanting to see her naked. Not that she didn’t want him to, but not just yet.

  Don’t wait too long; you’ve already waited long enough. The new voice in her head startled her, and she jerked away from Andrew. Who are you? Luckily, she retained enough presence of mind to think it rather than say it out loud.

  “I was just joking.” Andrew misinterpreted her sudden move.

  Shit, she’d better come up with something fast before this lovely romantic moment deteriorated into an embarrassing fiasco. “I know, it’s not that. I just thought I heard my father. I’ll better go check on him.” Nathalie forced an apologetic smile. “I need to make sure he is not trying to sneak out while I’m otherwise occupied.” She winked at him before beating feet out into the hallway.

  To give herself more time, she went through the pretense of opening Papi’s door and peeking into his room. It was dark inside, his light snoring confirming that he was sleeping.

  Who are you? she asked again.

  I’m sorry, just ignore me and go back. The strange new voice sounded truly remorseful, which convinced her that it wasn’t Tut playing tricks on her.

  Oh, God, not again. She could deal with Tut, but not with the barrage of voices that would come flooding in if he were to leave the gate unguarded. Which was what he seemed to have done.

  “Tell me who you are, please,” she whispered into the darkness of the room.

  For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer her, and not because he was gone—she could still feel the foreign presence in her mind.

  I’m not sure.

  Great, a confused ghost, a newbie. “Do you remember who you were before?”

  Before what?

  Should she tell him he was dead? No, it wasn’t her place. And besides, she might be wrong, and the voices belonged to something other than ghosts.

  “Before now, before you popped into my head.”

  I can’t. I thought I was dreaming, or rather sharing your dream. It began when I heard you, I mean your thoughts, debating whether to open the door for Andrew. I listened, thinking that I was dreaming someone else’s dream. But this conversation between us is weird, it doesn’t feel like a dream. Can you help me figure it out?

  “Fine, but not now. I’m trying to appear sane, and you’re blowing my cover. Wait until Andrew leaves.”

  I’m truly sorry for ruining your date. But I still think you should jump his bones. The man is fine, a little too old for you, but a prime stud nonetheless. Besides, you said so yourself; you’ve already wasted too much time.

  Nathalie rolled her eyes. Was she just imagining it? Or was the new stowaway hitching a ride inside her head a gay ghost? Could ghosts be gay?

  “Could you please leave?”

  I’ll try. Oh, here it is…I can see the exit… She heard the voice fading away.

  Perhaps this was the end of it, and she wouldn’t hear from him again. And yet, she had to admit that this one seemed nice, not bossy and sarcastic like Tut, or whiny like the other ones who’d invaded her thoughts before Tut had taken over.

  “Is he okay?” Andrew asked when she entered the den.

  “He’s sleeping, I must’ve imagined it.” Damn, she hated lying, and what was worse, Andrew didn’t seem like he was buying it. In fact, he looked a little disappointed. Or perhaps she was just projecting what her guilty conscience expected to see rather than what was really there.

  “I think I should go.” He reached for his jacket and tie, draping both over his arm. “How about we watch the movie tomorrow?”

  Andrew’s tone wasn’t as warm as it had been before. Evidently, his disapproval was real, not conjured by her conscience. Nathalie felt like crying. Had she blown it? Was he even coming back?

  “Yes, definitely. That’s a great idea. I would like that. Very much.” She looked down, afraid to see reproach in Andrew’s eyes, or a fake smile while he promised to come back without meaning it.

  Her eyes followed his shoes as he got closer and hooked a finger under her chin. As he lifted her head, she was relieved to see that his expression had softened. “It’s okay, Nathalie, there is no rush.” Andrew dipped his head, his lips touching hers softly for a brief kiss. “Come, walk me down.”

  Downstairs, he paused at the door and put his hands on her waist. “How about a kiss goodnight?”

  She nodded enthusiastically.

  Andrew chuckled. “Come here.” He drew her close to his body, kissing her long and hard until she was left breathless. “Sweet dreams, Nathalie.” He kissed her forehead and reached for the bolt, unlocking it with the key she handed him, and opened the
door.

  A cold gust of wind rushed inside, and she folded her arms over her breasts, hugging herself against the chill. “Goodnight, Andrew.”

  He smiled. “Lock the door after me.”

  “I will.”

  Only once she was sure Andrew was a few feet away did she let out a sigh and sag against the door.

  God, she was exhausted. Emotionally drained.

  She’d almost blown it, and yet the hot goodnight kiss he’d given her was a good sign, wasn’t it?

  It didn’t feel like a last kiss goodbye, more like a promise of many more to come.

  Chapter 28: Andrew

  Sometimes, Andrew’s gift felt more like a curse to him. During the drive home, he replayed in his head the events that had led up to the lie.

  Why had Nathalie done it?

  He’d sensed that she’d been overwhelmed by the rush of desire that had swept through her. Nathalie had practically melted in his arms. And yet, she’d done nothing to hide her reaction or tried to tame it. She’d even giggled at his joke. This could not have been what had had her bolting out of the room with that lame excuse. An excuse he would’ve bought if not for his special gift.

  Andrew had a niggling suspicion that Nathalie hadn’t been kissed much, mainly because of the way she’d been blown away by the experience. Almost like a teenager who’d been kissed for the first time. But that couldn’t be. She was too old for that to be a possibility—even a remote one.

  Unless she’d been in a coma for the past fifteen years, or Amish, there was no way he’d been the first guy to kiss this beautiful, sexy woman. The thought was so preposterous that it made him uncomfortable to even consider it. Maybe other men would’ve found a complete innocent thrilling, excited by the idea of being a girl’s first in everything, but all he could think of was the terrible loss—the loneliness that hadn’t been alleviated even by fleeting hookups.

  For a grown woman, who appeared to have a healthy appetite for sex, it must’ve been plain cruel to be denied this most basic of pleasures.