by Amira Rain
Maybe someday things could be how they'd used to be. At the very least, I expected that Dylan would never enslave my family and me, not after my years of service to his cause. I figured he'd probably just allow us to live in peace. Like he'd told me several times, once I'd fulfilled my contract, he wouldn't want to anger me, because he didn't want me to retaliate against him.
Once the five of us Gifteds had finished our lattes, Britt's stern-faced husband glanced at his watch. "Commander Northrup said one hour, and we're coming right up on that."
With all ten guards trailing behind us again, Christy, Rocky, and I soon left the bar and were immediately greeted by a scene that made my heart leap in my chest. Several lions were running out from the dense woodland opposite the bar, their golden-brown fur glinting in the bright sun.
Having stopped dead in my tracks, I allowed a single, whispered word to pass my lips. "Mark."
*
Mark actually hadn't returned to the village yet. I wasn't sure if she'd heard my involuntary little whisper of his name or not, but Christy said that the lions emerging from the woods across the street were several of Mark's men beginning a patrol run.
"They gather in a small clearing just east of the houses, then cut across the village west to officially start their run...and they do usually literally run most patrols, so that's what they're warming up for now. A few times a day, it's a pretty common sight in North Haven to see a group of lions tearing out of the village."
I realized I was bitterly disappointed that Mark wasn't back yet, though I wasn't even exactly sure why. I didn't want to hear his deep voice again. I didn't want to spend any more time with him. In fact, until I could make my escape, I wanted to spend as little time as possible with him. At least, these were all things that I'd begun to tell myself.
By midnight that night, when I finally fell asleep, Mark still hadn't returned. He didn't return the following day, either. It rained buckets, essentially trapping Rocky and I in the house all day, not that I was even sure if I was free to leave anyway, even if it hadn't been raining. Mark hadn't specified if my trip to the village was a one-time thing or what, and he hadn't called again to give me a chance to ask for clarification.
Christy came over for lunch that day, lifting my low mood a bit. I couldn't deny that the experience of having a real friend again for the first time in three years was one I was thoroughly enjoying. However, when Christy excused herself to use the restroom after lunch, leaving her cell phone on the table, I had a decidedly sneaky, un-friend-like thought. Since my own phone had not been on my person when I'd regained consciousness after the battle, probably having been destroyed by Mark, it occurred to me that maybe I could try contacting Dylan from Christy's phone. Maybe we could come up with some kind of a plan for my escape.
Reaching for the phone, I paused when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rocky looking up at me curiously, with his sweet golden head cocked to one side. At times, his face seemed to perfectly mimic human expressions, and this was definitely one of those times. He was looking up at me as if confused about why I'd be making a move to grab Christy's phone without her permission.
Letting my hand fall back to my lap, I thought about the fact that I was about to go behind the back of Rocky's "daddy." His daddy, who I couldn't seem to keep off my mind long enough to focus on what I needed to be focusing on, namely planning my escape.
After a few more moments spent thinking, I decided that all guilty feelings toward Christy and Rocky aside, I probably shouldn't use Christy's phone just because she might see that I'd made an outgoing call and turn me in to Mark, who'd surely double the guards around the house, and maybe even forbid Christy from visiting me, for security reasons. Not to mention that I didn't even know if I had time to make a call before Christy returned from the bathroom.
Confirming my thinking, she returned soon, giving Rocky and me a smile that somehow felt like a punch in my guilty gut because of what I'd been contemplating. However, her smile quickly faded when she took her seat across from me and spotted her phone on the table, suddenly seeming to realize that she'd left it behind during her trip to the restroom. I could tell she'd been warned against doing that.
Wanting to put her mind at ease, I blurted out that I hadn't used her phone. "I didn't even touch it. I...I may have thought about making a call for a second, I guess, but...I didn't."
Putting the phone back in her pocket, Christy shook her head, wearing an expression of surprise that wasn't entirely convincing. "Oh, I wasn't even thinking that you did...that honestly didn't even cross my mind."
"Yes, it did." Appreciative of her at least pretending that I was above suspicion, I cracked a smile. "It crossed your mind. And I don't blame you for having the thought."
Leaning back in her chair, visibly relaxing, Christy also cracked a smile. "Okay. You might have thought about making a call for second, and for a second, I had a thought that maybe you actually had used my phone. I guess we're even."
The next day, the rain continued, and Mark still didn't return. He didn't call again, either.
By the morning of the third day since he'd been gone, I awoke in a remarkably foul mood, despite the fact that the sun was now back again, shining into my bedroom, or Mark's bedroom, rather, through the cracks in the curtains.
I felt stuck somehow. Trapped. No small wonder, since I literally was stuck and trapped, still confined to house arrest.
I felt like that in a different way as well, though, and not just because I was beginning to seriously doubt that I was ever going to be able to find a way back to Dylan. I felt really stuck and trapped with Mark, though in a way I couldn't even understand. Maybe I felt frustrated. All I knew was that I just wanted him to come home, while even at the same time, I didn't.
Another thing I knew was that I'd never spent so much time thinking about a man, and trying not to think about a man in my entire life. I couldn't remember even being so preoccupied with thoughts of my most serious boyfriend, and I'd dated him for a solid year, when I was twenty.
After letting Rocky out and feeding him breakfast, I started the coffeemaker, returned to Mark's room, and got in the shower. A while later, when I shut off the water, I heard Rocky going absolutely ballistic somewhere in the house, barking in a way that made me think he'd either never been happier in his life, or he'd never been so terrified.
After quickly squeezing water out of my hair, I wrapped my plain white towel around my body, tucked in a corner near my chest, and dashed out of the bedroom, heart pounding, hearing that Rocky's loud, rapid barks were coming from the kitchen.
When I arrived on the scene, I immediately stopped dead in my tracks, seeing that Rocky's frenzy, which was still ongoing, was clearly the result of sheer joy, not terror.
Mark had come home, and he was kneeling while Rocky jumped and climbed all over him, literally somersaulting off him and then coming back again, barking like Mark had been gone for a solid ten years.
Looking devastatingly attractive in just battered jeans, a t-shirt, and boots, with his longish dark hair rakishly tousled, Mark immediately saw me, too, and slowly rose to his feet, eyes widening. It was only then that I realized I was wearing just a towel, and a fairly small, thin one at that, one that made the very shortest of mini-dresses when wrapped around me the way it was.
Just looking at each other, neither of us spoke for a long moment or two.
But then, feeling the need to say something, because Rocky had begun to quiet down, leaving the kitchen strangely too quiet now, I cleared my throat and spoke while trying to maintain eye contact with Mark. "I heard Rocky barking out here, so I...."
I didn't even know what.
"You don't get dressed before coming out to see who's in the kitchen?"
Bristling at his tone and question, I folded my arms across my chest. "Well...you could have been an intruder. In which case, I would have been glad that I'd rushed out to defend Rocky."
Clearly dubious, maybe even a bit incredulous, Mark
bit back a scoff. "You really thought it was at all likely that there would be an intruder in the home of the village leader? A home that, as we speak, is being guarded by no fewer than a dozen lions?"
Now he'd made me feel stupid. Stupid and flustered and angry.
Sidestepping him, I made my way over to the coffeepot, which was full. "I'm sorry; please forgive my absolute idiocy in my wanting to see why a dog I've grown to love was barking his head off in the kitchen. If you don't mind, I'll just grab a cup of coffee and then be on my way."
I'd actually already poured it while I'd been speaking, and I now whirled around, leaving it on the counter, intending to get some milk from the fridge to add to it. However, instead of finding a clear path in front of me, I found the brick wall of Mark's long, lean body in front of me.
He stood no more than a foot away, expression contrite. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did. I was just momentarily surprised to see you, that's all."
I took a deep breath with my anger only growing for some reason. "Well, before you go on feeling apologetic, are you sure you're completely finished making me feel like a dummy? Do you have any more comments or cracks? Do you want to refer to my legs as 'short little legs,' like the last time we were together in this kitchen?"
"I never referred to your legs as 'short little legs.' I simply called them 'little legs,' because they are on the smaller side, but for the record, I think they're very appealing, shapely little legs. I think they're beautiful, actually, almost painfully so...along with the rest of you."
With all my cantankerousness having suddenly left me, I found myself speechless. Mark looked into my eyes, and I looked into his, hoping that he could somehow read my mind. Hoping that he could somehow tell that within an instant, I'd become desperate for him to kiss me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Though I was pretty sure that mind-reading wasn't a particular gift of shifters, Mark took a small step closer to me, still looking into my eyes, with a look in his eyes that made me think that he did know I'd become desperate for him to kiss me.
Gently taking my chin with a few of his fingers, he spoke in a low voice that communicated unmistakable sincerity. "I really mean what I said...I think you're absolutely beautiful. I thought so when I first set eyes on you, even in the midst of a raging battle, and you on my enemy's side."
"Then, show me how beautiful you think I am. Kiss me."
Not needing any further invitation, Mark moved a little closer to me still, tipping my chin up a degree, and then brought his mouth to mine, barely brushing my skin with his. Closing my eyes, I reveled in the soft, tender touch, though reveled wasn't even a strong enough word, but I didn't know what was.
It had been far too long. Too long since I'd been attracted to a man, not that I'd ever even been as attracted to a man as I was to Mark. Too long since I'd felt a sensual touch. It had been too long for many things. I'd been starved, and now, as if a switch had been turned just in the previous minute or so, I was intent on finally getting my fill.
Seemingly becoming as quickly aroused as I was, Mark soon deepened our kiss, first pressing his lips against mine with increasing pressure, then parting my lips gently and beginning an exploration of my mouth.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to me, I yielded to his plundering with all thoughts other than thoughts of him spinning right out of my head. The quiet sound of Rocky padding out of the kitchen barely even registered.
I made a much louder sound when Mark encircled my waist, pulling me tightly against the length of his body. With my heartbeat accelerating, I moaned into his mouth, feeling that he was already becoming hard, very hard, actually. He felt long and large as well, fanning the flames of my desire.
Soon we weren't only exploring with our tongues, but with our hands as well. I ran mine along Mark's back, feeling every hard contour. After sliding his hands from my waist to my rear, he cupped both rounded globes, then began slowly kneading them with his large, strong hands.
Becoming lost in a world of pure pleasure, I didn't even hear a sound at the sliding glass door that apparently Mark did. With a groan, he broke our kiss and looked in that direction, appearing as if he wanted to shoot lasers from his eyes at whatever or whoever was behind the curtained glass.
"It's probably one of my lieutenants. I told him to come check in." Pulling away from me slightly with another groan, Mark raised his voice and spoke in the direction of the door. "Please come back later, Steven!"
After a moment or two of silence, there was a knock on the glass, and Mark raised his voice a little louder still.
"Please go away! I'll talk to you later!"
Another brief silence, then a more tentative sort of knock, as if the knocker wasn't quite sure if Mark had said go away or knock again.
This time, Mark raised his voice the loudest he had yet, gently pushing me away from him, presumably so that he wouldn't hurt my ears. "Go the hell away, Steven! I'm busy in here!"
Finally, there was no knocking in response, and after a few seconds, Mark turned his glassy-eyed gaze back to me.
"I'm really sorry about that."
"It's fine."
Or, it would be, as long as he started kissing me again.
But instead, he slowly pushed a strand of damp hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. "You have the most gorgeous green eyes I've ever seen. Jade, but with the tiniest flecks of spring green within them, like the new buds on the trees outside. I've never seen anything like them. They're simply exquisite."
I'd received compliments on the color of my eyes before, but very few people had ever noticed the teeny-tiny flecks of bright spring green within the darker green. In fact, after knowing me for fifteen whole years, one of my little sisters, Abbey, had suddenly asked me at dinner one night when I'd gotten "itty-bitty bright green spots" in my eyes.
She'd truly never noticed before then. My mom had said they were something a person really had to be looking for, because they were only visible when light hit my eyes just right. Apparently, just in the brief time that Mark and I had known each other, the light had hit my eyes just right, maybe even a few different times, because Mark seemed like he'd been studying the flecks within them. Or maybe he'd just been looking into them a bit deeper than my little sister ever had.
While he brushed another strand of hair out of my face, this time from the other side, still looking into my eyes, I spoke in a near-whisper, feeling as if I were melting under his feather-light touch.
"We barely even know each other."
"We can stop."
I didn't even have to think about my response. "No. I want this."
I had a feeling I shouldn't, but I did. Had a feeling I should be fighting against what I was feeling, against my natural urges, but I just couldn't, or at least I didn't want to. Not with Mark's masculine, woodsy scent filling my nostrils, making me feel like I wanted to all but tear his shirt off. His jeans, too.
Just to make sure that there was no ambiguity with what I wanted, I repeated myself, telling Mark that I wanted what was happening. "I want you to touch me. Then I want you to...." I paused, choosing my next words carefully. "To make love to me in whatever way you think will feel good to me, and you, too."
I had a feeling that I should probably be a bit more specific, especially since I had a few possible lovemaking positions in mind, but there was something about getting too specific that I just wasn't feeling at the moment. I supposed maybe a little part of me wanted to see what style and position of lovemaking would please me, and then I wanted to see for myself if it actually would. Not like I really had much doubt about that.
Seemingly very satisfied to have been given such a clear verbal green light, Mark pulled me into his arms and began kissing me again, and I could feel that he hadn't lost much of his hardness, if any, while we'd been interrupted. He pressed his sizable manhood into the soft curve of my lower stomach, reigniting my passion, not that it really needed to be reignited very much. Whil
e we'd been kissing earlier, I'd become so aroused that, like him, I hadn't really lost much of my fire while we'd been interrupted.
With his hands hungrily roaming, it wasn't long before Mark loosened my towel, letting it fall to the floor. Then, he broke our kiss, took a step back, and with his eyes appearing just as hungry as his hands had proven to be, he took a long look at my naked form in the sunlight filtering in through the curtains. I let him look, too turned on to be self-conscious at all, or so I thought, because after a few moments, I felt my arms moving across my chest to cover my breasts, seemingly of their own accord.
It wasn't that I disliked my breasts; I didn't. In fact, I kind of liked them. It was just that they were fairly large, and because of this, they sagged a bit, despite the fact that I was only in my mid-twenties. And once, a serious-yet-not-incredibly-serious boyfriend had made a very insensitive, hurtful comment about this slight sagging while I'd been getting dressed, saying something to the effect of that maybe I could have my breasts surgically "tightened up" someday.
