Heart of Stone

by Debra Mullins

  She stirred. “So.” Satisfaction soaked the word. “This mating bond thing. Pretty intense.”

  “Yeah.” He caressed her buttock. “You realize we didn’t use any protection.”

  “Dang it.” She let out a long sigh. “I wanted you inside me so badly I didn’t even think of that.”

  “Me neither. And I have condoms in the drawer, too.”

  She lifted her head and regarded him with eyes half closed like a cat before a warm hearth. “Well, well. Check you out, Mr. Prepared.”

  He stroked a hand over her tousled hair. “I take precautions when it’s warranted. Condoms seem like a no-brainer, and not just because of pregnancy.”

  She folded her hands on his chest and rested her chin on them. “Lucky for you I’ve been living like a nun these past few years.”

  “Still, we should be more careful if we’re going to keep this up.”

  The corners of her mouth curved just a little. “Isn’t that your department?”

  He chuckled and squeezed her buttock. “Don’t you worry about that.”

  “Worrying requires thinking, and that’s just too much work right now.” She closed her eyes and snuggled against his chest. “Let’s just drift for a while.”

  “If you want. But I have to move. I’ve been in this position for too long, and it’s messing up my back. Happens sometimes.”

  Her head popped up again. “Oh, sorry.” She rolled off him, disconnecting their bodies and landing beside him. “Is this better?”

  “Help me get these jeans off.” He shoved at the pants still tangled around his ankles. She helped him, peeling the denim off his legs and casting it aside. His socks followed.

  “Good thing you took off your shoes.” She turned back to face him. Her gaze fell on his scarred knee, and her grin faded. Gently she touched the puckered flesh, traced it. She leaned forward and brushed her lips over the scar.

  His breath caught. Tenderness shone in her eyes, soaking his empathic senses like a warm compress on a throbbing bruise. She really didn’t care about the scars. She wanted him, all of him. Cared about him. Didn’t see him as some kind of damaged goods.

  He swallowed past the hard lump in his throat and turned on his side to face her. “Turn over.”

  She obeyed, rolling on her other side with her back to him. Hooking an arm around her waist, he pulled her against him and settled his semi-hard cock in the cradle of her buttocks.

  “Mmmm.” She wiggled her butt against him. “Nice.”

  It was more than nice. He inhaled the scent of her hair and stroked his palm over the softness of her belly. Her satisfaction vibrated through him like the purring of a kitten who’d found a prime spot in the sun. He knew she was happy. He’d made her happy. Two wounded people finding a moment of contentment together.

  He closed his suddenly moist eyes for a moment. He could easily fall in love with this woman.

  Cuddled together, they dozed, the world outside and all its dangers forgotten.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The growl of her stomach woke Faith sometime later. She squinted against the sunlight peeking through the blinds. Unfamiliar room. Where was she? Something heavy draped across her body. An arm—a muscular, hairy arm. Darius. Memory returned.

  The scent of their coupling lingered in the room. She stroked his strong fingers where they rested against her belly, his olive skin a stark contrast to her pale complexion. If anyone had told her even last week that she would not only take a lover but that he would be a Seer as well, she would have thought them crazy. Yet here she was. Lucita would be proud.

  Her stomach gurgled again.

  “That’s loud enough to wake the dead.” Darius’s chest vibrated against her, his voice a drowsy rumble.

  “It was past noon when we came in here. What time is it now?”

  She felt him shift, probably to look at the bedside clock. “After two. No wonder you’re hungry.”

  “We missed lunch.”

  “Did we?” He turned her onto her back, those sexy lips curved in a smile made all the more wicked by his mustache and goatee. “I beg to differ.”

  Her cheeks heated. She lay in bed with him naked, not even a sheet for modesty, both of them sticky and sweaty from intense sex, and yet that grin of his still turned her insides to mush. “That doesn’t count as far as my stomach is concerned.”

  “How ’bout the other parts?”

  She gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. “Cut that out.”

  “Never.” He took her hand and kissed it, held it. “For what it’s worth, I could eat. I bet I can rustle up a couple of sandwiches from the kitchen.”

  “My hero.”

  “Yeah?” He chuckled. “I always wanted to be the hero. Usually that’s Rafe’s job.”

  She twined their fingers together. “Why’s that?”

  “Well, he was always the physical type. Me, I’m the talker.”

  “Ah, right. Peacemaker. Negotiator.”

  “Guilty. You know those action movies where there’s the badass hero who charges in to save the girl, and he’s got this partner who hangs out in the van feeding him intel and all that? Well, I’m usually the guy in the van.” His smile dimmed. “More so these past few years.”

  “Since the accident.”

  He nodded.

  She leaned up to kiss him. “Let me tell you something, Darius Montana. You’ve saved my butt a couple of times now from that hunk of rock, and you didn’t have to move a muscle to do it. So in my book, you’re already hero material.”

  “I think the mating bond is more responsible for that than I am.”

  “Modest, too.”

  “Truthful.”

  “That’s refreshing. I haven’t run into many honest people, especially men.”

  “Glad I can stand out.” He untangled himself from her and rolled over, sliding his legs over the side of the bed so he could sit up on the edge of the mattress. “I’m going to call Lupe and have her make us some food to go.” He glanced over her shoulder at her. “Unless you want to go up to the house to eat?”

  “No, I kind of like being away from all those prying eyes.” She sat up. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “What do you mean?” Using the edge of the nightstand, he pushed himself into a standing position and paused as if testing his balance.

  “You seem funny.”

  “I’m fine. But my cell and my cane are in the other room.”

  She scooted on hands and knees to the edge of the bed. “I can run and get them for you.”

  He held up a hand. “No. I need to do this on my own.”

  “Why won’t you let me help you?”

  He pressed his lips together as if debating his response, and for a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer her. “This is something I need to do for myself. My body and I have been engaged in this battle for over five years, and I can’t let anyone else fight it for me.”

  “So me running into the other room to get your cane is fighting your battle? I thought it was just me helping someone I care about.”

  He gave her a tight smile. “I appreciate it and believe me, when I need help, I’m not afraid to ask for it. But this is a daily ritual for me. Getting up. Walking across the room under my own power. It’s important to who I am that I be as independent as I can. Please tell me you understand.”

  “Oh, I understand. I’m an independent person, too.” She grinned, hoping to lighten the mood. “Blame it on the fact that I’m starving. The faster food comes, the happier I’ll be.”

  He laughed. “Noted. Your appetites are not to be ignored.” He tweaked her chin. “As I found out earlier.”

  “You’re terrible.” She shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. “Well, if you’re going to check out the food situation, do you mind if I use your shower?”

  “Go ahead. There’s a cabinet in there with fresh towels, but I have to tell you I don’t have any girly shower gel in there.”

  “Then I guess I’ll smell l
ike you.”

  He winked. “I think you already do.”

  “I’m ignoring you.”

  She started past him for the bathroom, but he caught her arm and pulled her near enough to kiss. The playful embrace quickly heated, the mating bond flaring to life like gas-soaked cotton. She wrapped her arms around his neck, loving the friction of his hairy body against her smooth one, and leaned into the kiss.

  His knee buckled, and he stumbled, catching himself on the nightstand. She shoved her shoulder beneath his arm until he steadied. “Sorry about that,” she said. “Guess I’m just overly enthusiastic.”

  “Yeah.” He managed a smile. “Next time you pounce on me, make sure we’re already in bed.”

  “I didn’t pounce, you grabbed. I was just on my way to the shower.”

  “Uh-huh.” He swatted her butt. “Get in there while I call Lupe.”

  She stuck out her tongue.

  He tweaked it with his finger. “Later, sweetheart. I’ve got to get your food.”

  “Fine. Guess I’ll see about that towel.” She marched to the bathroom. Though she couldn’t see him, she delayed by rummaging in the towel cabinet, listening to the shuffle of his footsteps as he made his way across the room. She heard the creak of the door as it opened and finally, the familiar thud of his cane.

  Content that he wouldn’t fall, she grabbed a fluffy towel off the top of the pile and turned toward the shower. As with the rest of the Montana estate, the bathroom even in this tiny guesthouse was more luxurious than most five-star hotels. Black and white marble vanity with gold fixtures. Mottled gray tile on the floor and walls. A shower the size of a minivan.

  But also rails around the toilet and when she opened the shower door, handrails installed there also. A marble seat was part of the enclosure. Stark reminders of the challenges Darius had to face every day.

  She started the water and stepped into the shower.

  * * *

  Darius pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and made his way barefoot to the house. With any luck no one would be around, and he could collect the food from Lupe and get back to the guesthouse without seeing anyone.

  He didn’t want to think about the implications of what had happened, and he certainly was not in the mood to entertain the questions of his often nosy family.

  He spotted the bag sitting on the table through the glass doors. Lupe knew a tray wasn’t the best option for him, so she’d gotten into the habit of using her canvas shopping bags whenever he called up for food. He slid open the door and stepped inside, intent on grabbing the bag and getting back to Faith as soon as possible.

  “Well, hey there, big bro.” Dressed in running shorts and a sleeveless shirt, Rafe leaned against the counter with an iced tea in his hand. “Haven’t seen you all day.”

  “I’ve been working.”

  “Yeah?” Rafe sauntered toward him. “With Faith?”

  “Yeah. That stone is a bitch.” Darius held up the bag. “Got to get back. I just came to grab lunch.”

  “Did Lupe make her chicken salad? I love that stuff.” Rafe peered into the bag.

  “I don’t know. I just called up for food.”

  Rafe looked from the contents of the bag to lock his gaze with Darius’s. “You know you’re not fooling anyone, right?”

  “I don’t have time for guessing games, Rafe. If you’ve got something to say, just spit it out.”

  “From the sight—and smell—of you, I’d say you slept with the Stone Singer.”

  “That’s none of your business.” Darius turned to leave.

  Rafe blocked his exit. “It is my business, but not for the reason you think. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “Why is everyone so worried about me? First Tessa and now you. You do remember I’m older than both of you and fully capable of making my own choices?”

  “I’m not coming down on you about this, Dar, really. Tess is definitely not one of Faith’s fans, but she’s been sheltered most of her life. Me, I’ve been out there. I’ve met the scumbags of the world, and while I may question the wisdom of getting involved with someone as important to our cause as the Stone Singer, I don’t get the scumbag vibe from her.”

  “Glad to hear someone agrees with me.”

  “Cara likes her, too, and that goes a long way with me.” Rafe swirled the ice in his tea. “I’m just saying be careful. Don’t get your heart all broken, Powder.”

  Darius scowled. “I’m touched that so many people are looking out for me.”

  “Translation: mind your own business. Message received.” Rafe gave a little salute and stepped out of the way. “Give my best to Faith.”

  Darius brushed past him and slid open the door. Paused. “I appreciate the concern, Rafe.”

  “We’ve got to watch each other’s backs,” came the reply. “You know I’ve got yours.”

  Darius gave a nod. “Same here.” With a wave to his brother, he headed back to the guesthouse.

  At least that was one family member who would support his decision to tell Faith the truth.

  When he walked into his living room, he found Faith waiting for him, dressed in her clothes from earlier but with her hair damp from the shower. She was watching TV, but clicked it off and stood when he came in. He kissed her and handed her the bag.

  She set it on the coffee table and dug into it. “This looks fabulous!”

  “You’ll find soda and water in the mini-fridge behind the bar.” He stripped off his shirt. “Make sure you save some for me. I’m going to shower.”

  “No guarantees,” she said, unwrapping a sandwich. “I’m pretty famished.”

  He paused in the doorway to the bedroom. “You do want me to keep up my strength, don’t you?”

  She paused mid-bite. Her eyes brightened as her interest bubbled through the link. “Heck yeah.”

  “Then save me some food.” He headed for the bathroom.

  He’d just finished shampooing his hair when the shower door slid open and Faith stepped in.

  “This looks handy.” She regarded the seat in the stall with gleaming eyes.

  Darius swept his hair back with one hand while gripping the rail with the other. “What are you doing in here? I thought you were hungry.”

  “I am.” She eyed him up and down. “I thought we could put that seat to good use. If you’re up to it.”

  He reached for her.

  * * *

  They had eventually made it to the bed. Faith lay in Darius’s arms watching the sky darken through the windows of his bedroom. They lay spoonlike again, his arm around her waist holding her close. For the first time in forever, she felt safe.

  “I’ve always dreamed of this.” She idly stroked his fingers resting on her stomach as the sky darkened from rose to purple.

  “Of wild shower sex?” He sounded sated and content.

  She chuckled. “No, of a place like this, your house. A place where I could be myself without having to watch my back all the time. A place where the Mendukati can’t find me.”

  She sighed. “That’s what I’m going to do with the money your family is paying me—build a secure house where I never have to be afraid again.”

  He didn’t reply for a moment. “Maybe you could just stay here.”

  She tried to look behind her, but she couldn’t see his face. “What? I can’t stay here.”

  “You could, if you wanted to.” He traced his fingers down her arm. “If things worked out between us.”

  Hope rose for just a moment, then practicality slammed it down. She gave a little laugh, hoping the forced humor would cover the momentarily foolishness. “You just got me into bed a couple of hours ago, and now you’re talking about living together? Moving a little fast, aren’t you?”

  “I guess I am getting ahead of myself.” His sigh breezed over her cheek, and he pulled her closer. “Sorry.”

  She should push him away, set some boundaries, but she just couldn’t. They lay quietly, wrapped together and listeni
ng to each other’s heartbeats.

  “This place is safer than it used to be,” he said several minutes later. “Criten got in here a few weeks back. We didn’t even know he existed, much less to set up security to keep him out. That was a close call.”

  She seized on the change of subject. “I heard about that. Fractured neck?”

  “Yeah. They took him out of here on a stretcher.”

  “So Cara told me. He’s back in Santutegi, nursing his wounds. Word on the street is that the Seers ambushed him and stole the stone.”

  “That’s the word, huh?”

  “Obviously that story is incorrect, like everything else to come out of Santutegi. Still, at least Criten is temporarily benched. That’s probably why he sent Azotay after me.”

  He rolled her onto her back, his brow furrowed. “Who’s Azotay?”

  “You’ve never heard of him?” When he shook his head, she went on, “He’s Criten’s hit man. His fixer. If he sends Azotay after you, you’re pretty much toast.”

  “And this Azotay is chasing you?”

  “Yes, he’s here. Well, in New Mexico, anyway. He’s the one who sent Corinne and Erok to get me. If you hadn’t come, I don’t know if I could have held them off.”

  He sat up. “Why didn’t you say anything about this before?”

  “About Azotay? You knew the Mendukati were after me.”

  “The Mendukati, not this hit man. You say he’s in New Mexico?” Darius reached for his cell phone on the nightstand.

  She sat up. “Who are you calling?”

  “Adrian. He called this morning to tell me he and Ben had been attacked by a bunch of Warriors.” He opened his contacts and selected one.

  “What! Is Ben okay?”

  “Yes, he’s fine. The show is over tomorrow, and I’ve sent the jet to bring them here afterward.” Darius turned to sit on the edge of the bed, his back to her. “Gray. What do you know about a guy named Azotay?”

  Faith frowned at Darius as he listened to Adrian. Why hadn’t he told her about Ben being attacked? He had to know she’d want to know the instant he did. She crushed the sheets beneath her fingers. Though Ben was in the company of a very capable Warrior, she knew Adrian wasn’t invincible, and the Mendukati—Azotay—could very well capture Ben and use him to try to force her over to their side.