She quickly turned her head before her gaze could go places she didn't want to go. "How many times did you get shot?"
"Enough."
She bit her lip. "Thank you for protecting me." She hesitated. "Why did you do that?"
He was quiet for a long minute. "Instinct."
Instinct. What did that mean? "Do you often throw yourself in front of bullets?"
"I don't spend a lot of time around innocents who are being shot at, so it's hard to say." He looked over at her, his brow furrowed. "You're my first. The depth of my need to protect you was…surprising."
Heat rushed over her, the kind of heat that started in her belly and spread out to the furthest reaches of her body. "Well, I appreciate it."
He paused. "How are you at pulling out bullets?"
"What?" She looked quickly at him. "I don't remove bullets."
"Time to learn." He turned around, giving her a full view of his backside. His back was solid muscle, a wide V narrowing down to a tight butt, and corded legs. The light cast a golden sheen on his skin, making him look like a bronze god sculpted out of sunlight. Something hot and distinctly female unfurled inside her, and she took a step toward him, her left hand reaching for him, needing to touch him, to feel his skin beneath her hands.
He held up his right hand and waggled the pliers, jerking her back to awareness. "I can't reach my back."
How could she not help him? He'd been shot for her. "I'll try." She grabbed the pliers, her cheeks heating at her obsession with him. She took a deep breath, eyeing the wounds on his back. "You just want me to jab it in there? Won't it hurt?"
He tossed her a cocky grin. "I—"
"Feel no pain. But that's a lie."
"Fine. It'll hurt like hell, but I can't heal until the bullets are out." He shrugged "It's what I do, so yeah, just stick the nose in there and grab one."
"Okay, then. I'll try." She picked a spot over his right shoulder blade and positioned the pliers over it. Took a breath. Took another. And another.
"Madison." There was a gentle urgency to his voice. "The hunters are still coming. We need to keep moving."
She'd forgotten about the hunters. How close behind were they? She bit her lip. "I'm really sorry." Before he could reply, she jabbed the pliers into a hole in his back, and heard the metallic click as the tip hit the bullet.
She flinched, but he didn't even react. Blood was oozing out of the bullet wound, and memories began to flash in her mind of the last time she'd caused someone to bleed. Her stomach started to turn. "Distract me."
His response was instant. "I haven't stopped thinking about kissing you. If we had time, I'd have you up against the wall and—"
"Yeah, okay." She cut him off. "That'll work." Forcing herself to concentrate, she pulled the bullet from his shoulder. "Got it."
He reached up and plucked the bullet out of the pliers, and she was struck by how long his fingers were. Calloused and scarred, they looked like they could do precise surgery with ease. Or flutter over a woman's intimate parts and know exactly where to touch.
She looked down at his bare butt, wanting desperately to run her hand over the taut muscles, to drop to her knees and slide her hand between his legs and caress—
He turned so fast she had no time to react before he had her pinned up against the wall of the tunnel. His hands were around her wrists, trapping them beside her head, his shoulders bunched, his erection inches from her belly.
She swallowed, unable to stop the swell of anticipation that pulsated through her body. "What are you—"
His mouth was on hers before she could finish the question, his tongue tempting and decadent, his lips a promise of a heaven she could only imagine. For a split second, she wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him back, unable to stop the electricity zinging between them.
He tasted so good, like her favorite dessert had come to life in his kisses—
"Shit." He broke the kiss, but didn't pull back, searching her face. "I could feel your desire," he whispered, his voice raw. "It was like a siren call, right to my gut. What are you doing to me?"
She shook her head, her fingers still digging into his shoulders. She was too aware that he was naked and pressed up against her, a temptation that called to her with relentless need. "I don't know."
His eyes were dark with a lust that was so intense she felt her belly clench. "I need to focus. Not be distracted by how much I need you."
She swallowed. "I agree."
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Her heart was pounding, and she knew if he kissed her again, she wouldn’t stop him. She didn't understand what was happening to her, but she knew she was barely in control around him.
He leaned his head forward, resting his forehead against hers as he fought for control. "Bullets," he said, his voice raw and ragged. "We need to get the rest of them out."
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She really didn't want to do something embarrassing like beg him to make out with her.
With a low groan, he pulled back from her and set the pliers back in her hand. His gaze held hers for a long moment, then he turned his back on her, set his hands on his hips, and waited.
He looked stoic. Calm. Under control.
And then she saw the tendons in the side of his neck. Rigid and hard, like cords of tension.
A bead of sweat trickled down his temple.
A faint smile curved her lips as she realized he wasn't nearly as immune as he was pretending.
"Madison. They're getting close."
"Right. Sorry." She concentrated on his back, plucking another bullet out, trying to distract herself from the dark foreboding creeping over her, the terrifying sensation that she was sliding off a cliff with nothing to catch her. She frantically tried to think of something to focus on other than the building fear. "So, um, what's a sheva?"
He tensed so quickly, she jumped and accidentally jabbed the pliers even deeper. He swore under his breath, and she cringed. "Sorry, sorry. You moved."
"Where did you hear that word?"
She let out her breath, relieved that he wasn't making a big deal out of the fact she'd just impaled his lungs with the pliers. "Xander asked you if I was your sheva." She winced as the bullet caught on his flesh. Her stomach lurched, but before she had time to tell him she couldn't do it, he reached back and set his hand on her hip.
His touch steadied her, clearing her head and helping her focus.
She pulled the bullet out cleanly, wishing his touch didn't affect her so much…but so grateful that it did. After a lifetime of keeping herself isolated from everyone except Ashley, she couldn't deny how incredible it felt to have his hand on her.
"Every Calydon warrior has a sheva." His voice was tinged with emotion he was trying to hide, but she could hear it. "She's the woman who will call to his soul, and he to hers, until they fall so completely in love that the world revolves only around each other. His immortality and strength becomes hers, and her love consumes him."
Her heart did a little flip. "Really? I had no idea there was anything romantic about Calydons." Xander had asked if she was Ajax's sheva. Holy crap. Her heart leapt so violently her chest almost hurt. To experience love like that? Unconditional, forever love? She couldn't even imagine it.
Except she could.
Every night of her life, she'd curled up in bed, wishing for that. Drowning in the loneliness that followed her everywhere. In the unworthiness that haunted her every minute of the day. If she were Ajax's sheva, would she have that with him? "That's so beautiful," she whispered, her voice rough with a yearning that seemed to rise up from her very soul.
"It's not, actually." He tensed, anger rolling off him in thick, heavy waves. "Destiny commands he will lose his sheva, and it will drive him so mad with anger and loss that he will turn on those he used to protect and save, destroying all those he cares about."
"Seriously?" That made her so sad. All that love catapulting into something so terrible? "That's awful."
His hand tightened on her hip, and she tensed, feeling as if all the nerves in her body were tightening beneath his hand. She pulled another bullet out.
"Once he goes rogue," Ajax continued, "his sheva will kill him to stop him from massacring everyone around him. Destiny commands that she will also die, her immortality stripped by the death of her mate. Her soul will be eternally haunted by the truth that she killed the one man who made her whole." He paused, his voice suddenly so soft she could barely hear him. "Unless the Order gets there first and kills one or both of them."
She stared at the tousled brown hair on the back of his head. "I've been through some pretty awful things, but that might be about the worst thing I've ever heard. I mean, seriously. It feels like a violation of the very thing that defines what love is."
His thumb slid above the waistband of her jeans, brushing over her bare skin, sending chills along her skin. "It's my fate. To die in battle or to die at the hands of my sheva, whichever comes first." He paused. "I choose battle."
"I bet you do." She let out a shaky breath and tried not to notice his thumb drawing slow circles on her lower back. Why was he doing that? Was he trying to tease her again, or did he not even realize he was doing it? "So, um, what would happen if I was your sheva? Is there a way to avoid that horrible fate?"
"Yes."
She let out a sigh of relief. "Really? How?" By somehow finding the real meaning of love? Or something equally romantic or meaningful? Something that could give her hope, because right now, she needed hope, a glimmer of something good, of something working out.
There was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice. "The Order would kill you before we could complete the bonding process. You die. I live."
She blinked. "You're kidding, right?" Because that felt like a decision that lacked some forethought and balance.
"Death is the only way to stop destiny once a warrior meets his sheva." He looked over his shoulder at her, and she saw the truth in his eyes.
She now understood what Xander had been asking Ajax when he'd mentioned the sheva. One word from Ajax and Xander would have killed her right then, even if Ajax had thought there was a mere chance she was his sheva.
How close had she come to dying? The thought made her shudder, an important reminder that even though she felt safe with Ajax, he was a warrior first and foremost, every time.
She removed the last bullet and stepped back, easing out of his reach. He let his hand slide away, and she immediately felt the loss of his touch. "So, I'm definitely not your sheva, right? How would we know, if I was?"
He turned to face her, still naked, not that she was trying to notice. "I would know. You'd infiltrate every cell in my body, consume my thoughts and obliterate everything else from my mind. And the sexual need would be...overwhelming." His eyes were dark in the dim light, his face shadowed, and he was still naked and dangerously erect.
"Overwhelming? Like..." She stopped before she said "us," reluctant to give him the chance to say it was only her. "I'm not doing that to you, right? The sexual tension between us is…normal…for you?" Because it wasn't normal for her. But even as she said it, she remembered that he'd asked if it was her.
As if it weren't a common occurrence. "Ajax? This is normal for you, right?"
He was quiet for a moment, and hesitation flickered in his eyes. Just as quickly, it vanished. He encircled her wrist and pushed her sleeve up. His touch was warm and solid, and the level to which it felt good made her nervous after his little speech.
He pointed to her forearm. "This is how you'd know."
"What?" She peeked at her arm, which looked ordinary to her. "What am I looking for?"
He laid his arm next to hers, and she saw the fierce black brand on his skin. His sword. "This."
She frowned. "I don't understand."
"When a Calydon and his mate bond, his brand appears on her arm. Marking her." He brushed his fingers over her skin, making goose bumps pop up from the light touch. "There are three stages to the bonding: a spiritual joining, a physical joining, and a death offering. With each stage, part of the brand appears. Once it's complete..." He looked at her. "Destiny will come calling."
She swallowed. "So...technically, I could be your sheva? I wouldn't carry the mark because we haven't done any of the stages?"
"Technically, yes." Again, a heavy, weighted silence seemed to press upon her.
Then he released her arm and turned away to pick up a new pair of jeans from the backpack he'd stashed by the door. "But I'd never allow us to bond."
She hugged her arms to her chest, thinking of how intensely she craved him, how she had no choice but to respond to him when he touched her. "It's easy to resist?"
He met her gaze as he yanked them on. "No."
"But you think you can?"
He shrugged. "There's no other option, Madison. The bond destroys everything that matters. If it happens, we lose everything."
Chapter Eighteen
Madison's room was not what Ajax had expected.
He'd figured her for strong, bold colors. Matching curtains. A room vibrant with life.
Not a mattress on the floor, a small bubbling fountain in the corner, a thatched rug made of straw, and a small table that held nothing but four framed photos and a speaker that he assumed connected to her phone.
That was it. A lot of beige and very little else.
Not even a dresser or a pair of shoes.
It was a room devoid of life or energy. A room designed to dull the senses and lull an active mind into lethargy.
It was nothing like the vibrant, fierce, passionate woman who'd been willing to kill him to save her sister.
The room was not her sanctuary. Not the space of her soul. Not the haven she needed.
The only color in the room came from a three-foot painting of a mountain pasture above her bed. Bright green grass, blue flowers, and an overdose of sunshine. "A Vermont Haven" had been written along the bottom corner below the artist's signature.
With the way Madison seemed to ignite an inferno of desire in him with every move and every touch, Ajax had expected a room blazing with passion and vibrancy, not a room designed to strip its occupant of every hot emotion and coax them into a vegetative state of mindless relaxation.
Not that it was working on him. He still couldn't stop thinking of what her lips had tasted like. What her body felt like against his. It still took all his control not to reach out and run his hand over her arm, just to feel her skin.
He watched her pause in the doorway and take a deep breath, as if she were inviting the peaceful essence of her room into her body. He could see her muscles relax, saw the tension dissipate from her shoulders.
He changed his mind about the room. It was her sanctuary, her place of peace. She needed what it gave her.
Interesting.
Her dark hair was tangled around her shoulders, the curls in tight ringlets he wanted to wrap his fingers around—
What was it about her that was driving him crazy? Yeah, she was attractive, and he thought it was sort of cute how she pressed her lips together when she was mad. And her courage was worthy of respect, and he admired the hell out of the way she defended her sister.
But all that didn't explain why he couldn't think about anything but burying himself deep inside her until neither of them could move.
He watched her walk past the bed, her hips swaying in a graceful walk that was distinctly female. She toed the blankets off the floor as she headed toward a closed door in the back corner.
The lace of a pale pink camisole peeked out from beneath the covers. A thin silk strap attached to a scrap of lace. Delicate. Not power. Not seduction. Fucking innocence.
He didn't do innocence, but the thought of that pink lace on Madison's tawny skin created an image that made desire rush through him. Hell.
Madison pulled open the door to what he saw was a beige bathroom. An open door on the other side of the bathroom revealed a large walk-in closet. She
walked into the bathroom and shut the door, cutting him off.
Restless, he tried to focus on why he was there. On Viktor. On Pete's dying instructions to go to her room.
He turned to inspect her bedroom, doing a careful survey for anything that may have been what Pete was referring to. Ajax had been so sure the private detective was hiding something that he and Madison had even detoured to McFadden's house to search it.
They hadn't turned up anything more than the stash of weapons Madison had told him about. No scribbled notes in his trash, no cell phone to search the records. Not even a computer to infiltrate.
McFadden was good at his job. Not a trace of anything, except that jail cell in his basement—
Ajax heard a creak from the floorboard downstairs, and paused, his senses alert to threats. He'd been on edge ever since they'd neared the place, preparing for a trap, but so far, he'd sensed nothing.
Not that that was reassuring.
Walking around the mattress, he ran his hands over the sheets, searching for something that felt wrong, that didn't vibrate with the fragile warmth he associated with Madison. But all he could sense was her. The tanginess of her sweat, her delicate scent...he swept his hand over her pillow, aware of each dark hair tangled in the fibers.
There had been no one in this bed but Madison.
And he liked that fact far too much.
Giving a satisfied grunt, he moved to the photos. He picked up the first one, a photo of Madison, an older lady, and a woman who looked almost exactly like Madison, except shorter and a little curvier, and a hell of a lot happier. He traced his finger over Madison's image, noting that Madison's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Is this Ashley?"
Madison stuck her head into the room, and her face clouded when she saw the photo he was holding. "Yes." She walked out, clutching a backpack in her hand, moving up next to him to take the photo. Her fingers brushed against his, and he felt a rush of heat where they'd met.
But she didn't seem to notice, clasping the photo tightly, emanating a deep grief.
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