He stood just on the other side of the glass, smiling a crooked smile. What beautiful lips he had. Oh God, he was hot. Why did he have to be so hot? He drew his finger along the glass as if he could touch her face through it.
“Helena…” He spoke as if they knew each other, as if he’d been missing her for years. “You shouldn’t be afraid.”
“I don’t know you.” Helena’s voice wavered. She tried to strengthen it. “This is too strange. It’s just not right.”
Yet she wanted to touch him more than anything in the world. Instead she splayed her palm against the glass and he matched it with his own hand, so much bigger than hers. She had thought of those hands all day, how they held her breasts and circled her waist. She’d thought of his mouth on her throat, open and wet.
“It’s an unusual way to meet, I’ll give you that, but that doesn’t make it wrong. What do you want to know about me? I’ll tell you anything.”
The glass muffled his voice a little, made it sound like it was coming from a distance. She didn’t know what else to do, so she thought of a question.
“Well, where are you from?”
“New York. I live in the city.”
Ah ha.
“What are you doing in Colorado?”
His dark eyes bored into hers, sincere, yet so forceful she lowered her lashes. “I came to meet you.”
“Why?”
“My mother told me to find you. That you’d be my perfect one.”
Mother? Like Norman Bates’s mother? Oh man, that was creepy. “Who is your mother?” she snapped. “And what the hell does she know about me?”
Faustin was a model of patience, standing out there in the freezing cold. It didn’t seem to bother him. His nose wasn’t even red. And he didn’t seem to mind her shrewish tone either. “My mother’s name is Natalia Grigorevna Faustin.” He ground through those hard consonants like a real Russian. “She lives in Brooklyn. She…well…she dreamed about you, dreamed you and I were meant for each other. It’s sort of an old world thing.”
“And on the basis of her dream, you came here to find me?”
He lifted one shoulder and smiled, as if the whole thing was a little embarrassing, but unavoidable. “It’s better than internet dating.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’ve had to resort to that.” Helena sniffed, imagining him striding around Manhattan with hordes of Sarah Jessica Parker types staggering after him in their expensive heels.
“My family, our traditions, they mean a lot to me, Helena. I’m ready to settle down and I want to do it in the old way. It worked for my parents.”
“They met by dream?”
He nodded and leaned his head on the glass. “I think my mother dreamed right, Helena.”
The longing in his voice stopped her breath. His perfect one. To think that such a thing might exist—a perfect mate. Two halves coming together to make a whole. Never lonely again.
That was delusional thinking. A good relationship was all about hard work, compromise and mutual respect—not magic destiny crap. That’s why happy couples were as rare as hen’s teeth.
She put the phone down and twisted her hands together, trying to think of something else to say when she had all of two brain cells firing. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“Two older brothers, Mikhail and Gregor.”
Gregor. His name really was Faustin, and he really was from New York.
He slid his palm down the glass and straightened up. “Do you have any siblings?”
“No, I’m an only child.”
“Where are your parents?”
“They’re…they’ve passed on. A year ago. This is their house, actually.” That’s it, tell him you have nobody.
His brow creased in concern. “So you’re all alone? I’m so sorry.”
The empathy in his voice brought tears to her eyes. The hormones were surging again, making her sappy. Yes, it was hard to be alone. She loved her friends, but they were not family. Family had to put up with you no matter what. She wanted them back. Before she started bawling outright, she changed the subject. “You’re Russian. Your background, I mean?”
“Right. But I was born here.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I trade in foreign currency.”
Whatever that meant, exactly. Helena never had enough money to spare for investment or trading and so paid little attention to the subject. She imagined him sitting at a big table with piles of exotic coins stacked in front of him, even though that was retarded.
“Do you have a card?” she asked. Also retarded. But she wanted to see something solid, something that proved he had a life outside of hanging around her house.
His lips twitched in amusement as he reached in his jeans pocket and brought out a slender wallet. “Do you want to see my driver’s license? My social security card?” He flashed these things at her, all legitimate looking. He showed her a couple of credit cards, a library card, a subway pass and a Borders gift card in there too, decorated with candy canes. Then he pulled out a business card and pressed it against the glass.
“FFS?”
“Faustin Financial Services. I also do some investment consulting.” He tucked the card in the door frame and left it there like a salesman. “What about you? What do you do?”
“I’m a freelance radio producer. I do a lot of work for NPR.”
“Really? I listen to NPR all the time.”
A public radio fan? Then he must be her life mate. Well, unless maybe he was Garrison Keillor’s life mate.
But he seemed interested, truly interested. “Tell me something you’ve produced that I might have heard.”
“Uh…” Helena’s mind went marvelously blank. It was hard to remember anything when he looked her straight in the eye. A warm fluttering started between her legs. Oh, jeez. “Uh, last week they aired a story about the little kid who rode his bike across America…”
“To commemorate his brother’s death? I heard that one.” He had the strangest look to him as he said that. Something like pride. “That was your idea?”
She nodded, dry mouthed. “Look, this is a ridiculous way to talk. I should let you in, but I…”
“No.” The sudden harshness of his voice made her take a step back from the glass. “Don’t let me in if you have any doubts in your mind, because once you invite me in, I’m going to make love to you. It is the first thing I will do. We will not have dinner or a glass of wine first. We will not chit chat or watch a movie. You let me in this door and I’m taking you. Understand that.”
Scared of him once again and scared of her own reactions to him, Helena took another step back and hugged herself. “Why are you like this?”
If looks could melt glass… “You were on the stoop with me. Answer yourself.”
Helena paced back and forth in front of the sliding glass door, chanting her inner mantra, Dang, oh dang, oh dang.
Since the first moment she’d laid eyes on him, she’d wanted him, and that was the truth of the matter. He didn’t hide his desire, he was clear in his intentions. That was the difference between them. He told the truth while she waffled and flirted and lied and called the cops when things got too intense. So who wasn’t playing fair?
Let him in.
He’d probably talk to her though the door all night, but she didn’t know if she could do it. She couldn’t think. Hell, she could barely stand. Either she had to take him up on his offer or go lock herself in the closet.
She’d been thinking of him as caught on the deck, behind glass, but she was the one who was trapped. He had all the world behind him.
I’m tired of being afraid.
Faustin leaned against the door while he waited for her answer, head down, palms flat against the glass as if he was thinking about pushing the door off its tracks. “I need you,” he said, almost too low to be heard.
Her breath caught in her throat. Frightened, she wrapped her arms around herself. That gentle pressure made her brea
sts ache and tingle. Her skin was oversensitive, stimulated by the soft knit of her sweater dress. She’d never been so aroused. Part of it was knowing a man wanted her that much. Another part was knowing that she’d have to risk her life to find out if her instincts were right. The instincts that told her to open the door.
Trust yourself.
He’s a public radio fan, for crap’s sake.
Do it.
Her destiny rests in their hands…
Very Much Alive
© 2009 Dana Marie Bell
True Destiny, book 1
Kiran Tate and Logan Saeter have been on the run from Oliver Grimm for so long they’ve forgotten what it’s like to be free. Ending Grimm’s power games won’t be easy, but this time they have an ace in the hole. PI Jordan Grey, Guardian Investigation’s resident hot shot—and Grimm’s step-granddaughter.
Jordan Grey has her doubts when Logan and Kir show up in her office with a tall tale of how her step-grandfather has framed them for murder. And to top it all off, they’re claiming that they’re really the ancient Norse gods Loki and Baldur, and that Grimm is Odin!
When the two lovers see the sexy detective for the first time, stopping Grimm suddenly takes a back seat to seducing her into their arms. But Grimm never rests, and when his anger spills over onto Jordan, it sets them all on a collision course with a destiny that will rock their world…
Warning: This book contains explicit sex, graphic language, some violence, and hot male/male/female action. In fact, it could be considered a religious experience.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Title:
Kir closed the door behind himself and Logan after having seen Jordan onto the elevator. He sighed and closed his eyes tightly, completely mortified.
Fuck. Logan saw my reaction to Jordan.
The knowing gleam in his lover’s eyes did not bode well for the coming conversation.
So it was with some surprise he felt Logan gently push his hand into his hair, pulling Kir’s mouth to his own. The kiss was a languid stroking of tongues, not the usual kiss Logan gave. Logan usually preferred hot, heavy kisses, full of passion and the promise of sex. This one was the kind of kiss Kir preferred. Soft, sweet, and full of the love they both felt.
“I love you, you know that, right?”
Kir focused on Logan’s face. “No more than I love you.”
“We need to talk.”
Kir closed his eyes again, not wanting to see the pain in Logan’s.
“Hey.”
He sighed and moved past Logan’s body and into the living room. Dejected, he sat on the sofa, his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what? The fact that you’re attracted to Jordan?”
Kir groaned.
“Kir.” He looked up, surprised to see the understanding on Logan’s face. “Me, too.”
He felt a surprising flash of jealousy at that, but wasn’t sure if it was for Logan or Jordan. Not good…or very good? “You want her, too?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. She’s a hell of a woman.”
Kir found himself nodding his agreement. “She took everything we threw at her in stride.”
“If I was her I would have kicked our asses out of my office, gone and had a few drinks, then convinced myself it never happened right after I called to have the carpet replaced.”
“So what do we do about it?”
They stared into each other’s faces, reading the promises they’d long ago made to each other and the new, sudden want they both felt. No matter how startlingly strong, there was no way Kir would act on it if it meant losing Logan.
Logan was his everything.
Kir reached out first, cupping Logan’s cheek. “I would never do anything to hurt you, Logan.”
“Ditto.” Logan’s face was flushed with pleasure, that demonic grin of his once again gracing his features.
“So, what do we do?”
He watched Logan slouch down onto the floor at his feet, resting his head against Kir’s knees with a contented sigh. “The way I see it, we have two options.”
“Those are?” Kir’s heart rate picked up. He began absently stroking that fiery hair, wondering if Logan was thinking what he was thinking.
“Option one: we walk away from her once this is all over.”
No!
The instant denial raced through his body, causing him to jump. What the fuck? He never had that reaction to losing anyone or anything…other than Logan.
It didn’t help that Logan started to chuckle. “Thought so.”
“Option two?”
His heart was in his throat right up until Logan looked up at him with a leer. “Don’t you just love the French?”
Kir blinked. “Huh?”
“They come up with words for the most amazing concepts.”
“Like?” Kir drawled. He was pretty sure now he knew where Logan was going, but he wanted confirmation before he said anything.
“Ménage a trois. It has such a sexy ring to it, doesn’t it?”
“Permanent ménage?” The words had left his mouth before he even realized the significance of what he was saying. Something about Jordan just…felt right.
Logan’s expression turned serious. “I’m not sure yet.” He shook his head, smirking. “But tell me you aren’t already a little in love with her, and I’ll call you a liar. I mean, damn. She’s got a smart mouth, hot body, bodacious ass, and she’s clever as all hell. And she wants both of us.”
Kir opened his mouth to say the words and found them stuck in his throat. “Damn.”
“Ditto.”
“How the hell did that happen?”
“I don’t know, but it did.” Logan was frowning again, this time in confusion. “It’s like we’ve found something we didn’t even know was missing. But if you asked, I would walk away from this. You know that.” For the first time, Kir saw Logan’s uncertainty peek through, reminding him of the broken man Loki had been after Baldur freed him from the mountain. The reckless youth he was had been burned away by the snake’s acid, leaving behind a damaged man who tossed and turned at night, screaming denials as he relived everything over and over again. It had taken Kir a long time to ease his lover’s torment. He also knew their relationship was the foundation the now confident, cocky man who was still inclined to take risks stood on.
Which was why he’d been so upset about his reaction to Jordan. But knowing that Logan felt the same eased that guilt
Kir thought about taking Jordan and making her theirs. Thanks to Logan’s ability to shift genders as well as shape, Kir had been happily bisexual for centuries now. He’d felt no need to go outside the relationship when Logan could, literally, be everything and anything he needed. Logan, on the other hand, hadn’t been able to explore that side of himself with Kir, since Kir couldn’t change his shape. He knew that sometimes Logan longed for soft, scented flesh, rounded breasts and bellies, all of the things he’d given up when he’d pledged himself to Kir. But Logan, for all his wild youth and unhappy marriage, hadn’t cheated on him once. And not once, through all of the long centuries, had either of them had the urge to add a third to their relationship.
Now, with the advent of one small, half-human woman, all of that was about to change. He could give the touch of a female back to his lover, and have them both for himself. He thought back to the odd feeling he’d had on the beach, that something was about to happen that would change them, and felt that sensation once more before it settled into a comfortable purr.
He saw the relief on Logan’s face as he nodded his acceptance.
Jordan was theirs. Now they just had to seduce her to them.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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Steel Beauty: Halle Pumas, Book 4 Page 10
