by Alyssa Day
She began to pull back, suddenly shy, still dazed from the intense hunger sweeping through her merely from the feel of his mouth on hers. But he shook his head and, releasing her hands, caught her around the waist and pulled her to him until not even a breath of air could have found passage in the space between them.
“Oh, no,” he said, voice husky. “Let’s try that again on our own, okay?”
She had a fraction of a heartbeat to realize that the Goddess had gone—the healing was complete—and then he caught her lips with his own again.
This time the fire was generated solely between the two of them, and she could not blame any of it on the healing warmth. Ethan kissed her as if she were a feast and he a starving man. He kissed her as though she were the prey and he a stalking predator. She succumbed, surrendered, clutching at his shoulders, wondering who was making that whimpering noise and then finally realizing it came from her own throat.
He left her mouth and pressed hot kisses to her throat, exactly on the now-healed spot where the knife blade had cut into her skin. “Never again, ocean girl,” he murmured so softly she almost didn’t catch the words. “Never again will anyone harm you. I swear this on my oath as alpha.”
He lifted his head and stared into her eyes, and something of enormous importance passed between them, but she could not decipher it.
Refused to decipher it.
Fear of drowning, of entangling herself in the depths of a passion so far beyond any that she had known, shivered a sheet of ice through her, and she pulled away from him. “Ethan. No, Ethan, stop.”
He instantly pulled back from her, his breathing harsh in the quiet room. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Marie. I’m so sorry. Damn, I’m no better than…Please forgive me.”
She lifted a hand, wanting to touch him, then clasped her hands together to resist the urge. “No, stop. You have nothing for which to apologize. We were both present and willing in that kiss.”
As the heat stained her cheeks, she forced herself to continue, cloaking herself in the protection of knowledge. “It is a normal response to the release of adrenaline in the body. Similar to the fight or flight mechanism. Attraction…magnifies in the face of danger.”
Ethan lifted one of her long curls into his hand and brought it to his lips, then let it fall back against her breast. “Trust me, beautiful,” he said, voice husky, “there is nothing normal about my reaction to you. And it started way before we faced any danger.”
He stood up and stared down at her, then shook his head. “Attraction. Now there’s a tame word. My insides are going to explode if I don’t lay you down right here and fuck you until you scream my name.”
Heat shot through her and pooled between her thighs as her body responded to the sheer hunger in his words. “I…I…”
“No. Don’t say anything. I’m sorry to be so crude. Pack up your stuff. You’re coming with me to my place until we can get you back to Atlantis and out of the way of Travis and his blood feud.”
“But—”
He sliced a hand through the air. “You’re going. I command you to leave my territories while there is danger to you.”
Anger shot through her, but she silently stood to comply with his command. As a visiting Atlantean, she could not jeopardize the treaty between their people by defying a command from the alpha.
He started to turn away, then whirled around and yanked her to him, controlled violence in his movement. “But hear me well, ocean girl. When this is over, you’re coming back, and we’re going to explore this thing between us.”
She lifted her head and gave him her iciest glare. “Hear me well, shape-shifter. You do not command the First Maiden of the Nereids. I am not one of your little kittens to be ordered about. You should consider that when you are issuing your various arrogant demands.”
“No, you’re definitely not a little kitten. But either you come back, or I’m coming after you, even if I have to swim the whole damned way. You should consider that.”
With that, he kissed her again, a fierce, claiming kiss that left her senses whirling and her resolve splintered. Then he pulled away from her and strode over to the door, pulling his phone from his pocket as he walked. “The sooner you’re packed, the sooner you can get away from my arrogant demands, Marie,” he said, and then began snarling orders into the phone.
She stood there, wanting nothing more than to slap his egotistical, superior face.
Wanting nothing more than to kiss his egotistical, superior face.
She did neither but simply turned to retrieve her bag as ordered, accepting the truth behind his words. There was certainly something between them that needed to be explored.
If she had the courage to do so.
EIGHT
Ethan led Marie through the throng of silent, wary shape-shifters clustered around the entryway to his headquarters and home. He nodded to William, his second-in-command. “My office in ten minutes. Try to reach Kat. Her cell was turned off when I tried. If it’s still off, track her down.”
Marie lifted her head, the strain of the afternoon evident in her pale and drawn face. “She’s with her…boss, if that helps, planning a meeting for tomorrow.”
William nodded and headed toward the back of the mansion and Ethan’s office, opening his phone as he went. Ethan stopped, realizing the necessity of introductions and some sort of explanation. He put his arm around Marie’s shoulders and scanned the group of his pride members who stared at her; some hostile, some neutral. All curious.
“This is Marie, Bastien’s sister from Atlantis. She came for a visit and is having the worst damn vacation on record,” he said bluntly. “I’m sure William has told you that Fallon’s pride brother, Travis, called alpha challenge upon me.”
He looked around, meeting each gaze, noting and appreciating the anger and loyalty on every face. “We need to return her to Atlantis until I take care of this little problem,” he continued. “In the meantime, I charge every one of you to protect her as if she were your own litter sister.”
A few gasps met his words and more than a few speculative glances were cast Marie’s way. But nobody even thought about arguing with him. Gregory, one of his fiercest pride-brothers, stepped forward. “I will guard her with my life, Ethan,” he vowed, dropping to one knee before his alpha and bending his head to bare his neck. “For the honor of the Cypress pride.”
Every panther there echoed the call. “For the honor of the Cypress pride!”
Marie stared around at them, eyes widened and lips parted slightly. She tilted her head to look into his face, and the floor shifted underneath him when his gaze met hers. The echo of passion from her kisses resonated through his body so hard and fast it was like a body blow. Only the presence of half of his pride prevented him from throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her to his bedroom to continue what they’d started on Kat’s couch.
He took her hand and headed down the hall toward his guest suite, then changed his mind and veered off to the left toward the master suite. “Now I’m a damn caveman,” he muttered. “Next I’ll shift into some kind of saber-toothed tiger.”
He realized Marie was almost running to keep pace with his long strides, so he slowed but did not release her hand.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“Nothing important. This is it. You can stay here until we can reach Alaric to come get you,” he said, flinging open the doors to his rooms.
She followed him into the room, then stopped. “It’s very…elegant,” she finally said.
He laughed. “Smooth and diplomatic, I’ll give you that. It’s a damn bare room.”
He looked around, trying to see the room through her eyes. Devoid of furniture except for a bed covered by a plain blanket, the space was huge and barren.
“Why does the prince of cats lead such a stark existence, I wonder,” she murmured, but she wasn’t mocking him. She’d spoken with concern and warmth in her tone. Two emotions he’d never expected to find in his bedroo
m.
He’d found lust there. He’d found callous indifference, spite, and—finally—hatred from Fallon. After she’d been murdered, he’d returned to the room in a killing rage and taken it out on the furniture. Every rug, painting, or piece of furniture she’d touched. He’d destroyed it all, clawing it to shreds in a towering fury. No matter what a heartless, cold woman she’d been, she’d been under his protection.
He’d failed Fallon.
He wouldn’t fail Marie.
“I got rid of anything she’d touched. Couldn’t stand to see it,” he admitted, walking away from her. Anything so she couldn’t see his face.
“You loved her that much?” The sympathy in her voice was like salt on the bloody wounds of his conscience.
“No,” he confessed, the words wrenched from a black and twisted place in his soul. “I didn’t love her at all. That’s why I couldn’t stand it. Maybe if I’d loved her, I’d have found a way to protect her, even from herself.”
Marie stepped up beside him and placed her hand on his arm. “Bastien told me of Fallon and her plot to work with the vampires against you and Kat. As a leader, you must know that you cannot save everyone. Some are destined to walk a dark path.”
Ethan stared down at her hand on his arm where it burned through his sleeve to his skin. To his nerve endings. “I don’t need your sympathy, Marie. I made my choices, and I have to live with them. But you don’t. Call Alaric, and let’s get you out of here.”
She jerked her hand away from him as if stung. “I did not offer my sympathy but my understanding. I see, though, that you require neither.”
Whirling around, Marie walked to the center of the room, graceful even in her anger. He wanted to race after her and yank her into his arms and never let go. Inside him, his panther purred its agreement with that plan.
Instead, he stood his ground and watched her retreat. She closed her eyes and lifted her face toward the ceiling, raising both hands, palms up, at her sides. A faint silvery blue glow whispered around her still form until she was bathed in light. A nymph rising from the sea in starlight.
He suddenly wanted her with a painful urgency. His body hardened to the point of pain. He scrubbed his face with his hand, disgusted with himself.
I’m nothing if not the king of bad timing.
After nearly three full minutes, Marie opened her eyes. She bit her lip and shook her head, then stood there heaving in deep breath after deep breath.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“This has never happened to me in three centuries,” she said, visibly trembling. “Alaric’s mental pathway is shut down. I cannot reach him. For good or ill, I cannot return to Atlantis.”
Marie sat alone in the vast, gleaming steel and stone kitchen, toying with the remains of a sandwich. She’d eaten nothing all day, but worry and concern had robbed her of what little appetite she’d been able to muster. The mug of hot tea failed to soothe her, as well. The abyss gnawing at her insides had nothing to do with food or drink but everything to do with her inability to contact Alaric or Bastien. Granted, her mental reach did not extend far enough to contact Bastien if they were more than a few hundred landwalker miles apart. But Alaric was so powerful that even the suggestion of contact from a fellow Atlantean was sufficient for him to receive the message.
Always in the past the high priest had immediately opened the pathway between them at her call. Now there was nothing. No sense of being blocked, simply nothing at all. As if…
As if Alaric no longer existed.
But she refused to even countenance that thought.
Ethan’s voice came from the doorway in that lazy drawl that he turned on and off seemingly at will. The mere sound of it shot liquid lightning through her.
“You hold that mug any tighter, and you’re going to break it.”
She refused to look at him, afraid her face would betray her reaction to him. “Then I will go to the mug store and purchase you a new mug. Conlan made sure I had some of your currency before I left Atlantis,” she said lightly.
“Really? How much do you think a special mug like that would go for?” He walked over to where she sat on a high stool, not stopping until she could feel his breath in her hair. “That’s a unique, genuine Miami Vice commemorative mug from 1985. Probably irreplaceable.”
She lifted the mug and examined it. “Who are these men with the oddly laquered hair? Are they heroes among your people?”
He threw his head back and laughed, and Marie watched him, fascinated. “Do you know that I have not seen you laugh like that before now? You become a different person when you laugh so freely,” she said, lifting a hand to touch the dimple that had appeared on his cheek.
The smile faded from his face. “I haven’t had much to laugh about, beautiful. I think, under different circumstances, being around you might change that.”
The room closed in on her, making the simple act of breathing difficult, but she decided to be bold, no matter the consequences. She would soon leave, never to return, more than likely. Her duties would not allow frequent or extended absences.
“I would enjoy the opportunity to bring you laughter. Under different circumstances, as you say,” she whispered.
Calling on the Goddess for quite a different kind of courage, Marie stood and took his face between her hands and drew it down to her own. “I’m going to kiss you now,” she said.
“I’m going to let you,” he replied.
Then she lifted her face and kissed him, but it was vastly different from the kisses they’d shared before. She touched her lips gently to his, coaxing and then persuading his response. He stood rigidly in her grasp, hands clenched at his sides, as though afraid to touch her and break the moment.
She reveled in the power of taking the lead in their caress and lightly licked the seam of his lips. He groaned in the back of his throat and immediately opened his mouth, tilting his head to more fully meld his lips to hers. She twined her fingers in his thick, silky hair and pulled him even closer, making a quiet humming sound of contentment as the kiss deepened.
The tiny sound seemed to unleash something in Ethan, because he burst into fervent motion, clasping her waist with his hands and lifting her back onto the edge of the kitchen table. He thrust one muscled thigh forward to part her legs, then moved so that he was wedged between them, all the while still kissing her. One of his big hands shifted down to her bottom and pulled her still closer so that her dress rolled up and he pressed firmly against the heat at the juncture of her thighs, nothing but his trousers and the silk of her underclothes between them.
She put her arms around his neck and murmured some sound that meant, Yes, definitely yes, oh please yes, and he wrapped his other hand around the nape of her neck and deepened the kiss.
When they finally broke free to catch their breath, Ethan wore the same shocked expression he’d had before when they kissed, and she hiccupped a little as her laughter fought its way out past her gasping breaths. “You look like I feel, shape-shifter. Did the world tilt on its axis a little for you, too? Or does my penchant for drama, as my brothers call it, overtake me?”
His sensual lips curved into a smile, and she tried to stop thinking about how she’d like to feel those lips all over her body. She had to focus. They were in crisis from all sides, and thinking about how good all that lean muscle would look—totally nude—was not helping.
Heat rushed through her at the thought, and her body convulsively jerked against him. He literally growled, like the panther that he was. “You need to stop doing that, or I’m going to take you right here on this table, ocean girl. And drama, hell. The world didn’t just tilt, it bounced clear off the damn axis.”
She flashed a seductive smile at him, filling it with the promise of everything she wanted to do to him. She knew the timing was bad. She knew the adrenaline response might be responsible for his reaction to her.
She wanted him anyway.
“If circumstances were different, as you say, I mig
ht take you right here on the table,” she whispered.
His eyes gleamed, then narrowed, and his hands tightened on her. “Just what am I? Some kind of vacation fling?”
She blinked, dumbfounded, then began laughing helplessly. “Vacation fling? What does that even mean? This is the first occasion on which I have ever left Atlantis in the more than four centuries of my existence, so that would not say much for my powers of attraction, would it?”
His jaw dropped open. “Four centuries? You’re more than four hundred years old?”
Her laughter died in the face of his obvious disbelief. “I have four hundred and seven years. Are you disgusted with the idea of kissing one so much older than yourself?”
“I suddenly find the idea of doing it with an older chick quite appealing,” he said, an evil grin lightening the planes and angles of his face.
“An older chick? That cannot be an appropriate term, young man. Perhaps you should learn to respect your elders.” She tried for a stern voice, but the fact that she couldn’t seem to stop running her fingers through his hair may have ruined the effect.
He put his hands on the bottoms of her thighs and lifted her up off the table, still grinning. “Can I respect you while you’re naked?”
She heard the wildness in her laughter and realized she walked the edge of hysteria. “Ethan, please. We need to figure out what to do.”
He gently let her down, still holding her so close that she had to slide down the length of his body. Both of them were breathing hard by the time her feet touched the floor. But he stepped back from her, evidently agreeing with her assessment. “You’re right. We need to figure out our plans. The first thing we need to do is get you out of here.”
They both turned toward the kitchen doorway at the sound of pounding feet approaching. Ethan pushed Marie behind him and pulled a very lethal-looking dagger from a sheath at his side.
