by Irina Argo
“So what’s your plan?”
“Tomorrow the pride goes to Paris, then across Europe. The pride wants to see if Arianna will try to contact the Order. It’s kind of her last trial before Tor blood-bonds with her.”
“Do you think she’ll try?”
“I don’t know. But we can make it look like she did. All we need to do is let them see you talking to her, even if you’re not saying—”
“Wait. How would they know who I am?”
“Anock has a file on you. Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you; I thought you assumed ...”
“No. No, I didn’t.” Desiree was looking pale and a little panicked.
“Don’t worry. They don’t have much information at all, just what you look like and that you’re Oberon’s sister. Nobody knows about Crian or me. And in this case, the fact that they recognize you will actually help. Here’s the plan.”
Chapter 52
Sharm el-Sheikh, Egypt
Three months later
In mid-November, the pride moved to their favorite winter estate, near the Egyptian city of Sharm el-Sheikh, situated on the southern tip of the Sinai Peninsula on the coastal strip along the Red Sea. Sharm el-Sheikh offered endless days of shopping and exploring, and warm evenings of entertainment and cool breezes—and it also boasted some of the most picturesque coral reefs in the world.
Tor took Arianna scuba diving soon after they arrived, and then just like that they were going every day. The pride’s small yacht would drop anchor near a dive site and one of the bodyguards would patrol the surroundings on a jet ski to make sure they were safe and undisturbed.
Tor could tell that the pride couldn’t comprehend his sudden passion for scuba diving. He’d always enjoyed it—they all had—but not with anywhere near the kind of obsession he was now showing. He let them think that the enthusiasm was coming from Arianna, which wasn’t technically a lie, just an incomplete truth. The whole truth was that it wasn’t the diving itself that drove Tor into the water every day; it was the fact that being underwater offered a temporary reprieve from the terrible bloodlust wracking his body. He didn’t know how it worked—maybe the water dulled something that usually flowed through the air between them—but whatever it was, he’d take it. He’d managed to avoid blood-bonding with Arianna, and he was determined to keep it that way. Meanwhile, though, the bloodlust had been getting worse and worse over the last three months, to the point where it was testing his grip on sanity and sometimes he thought it would literally kill him.
Except for that, and his lingering worry about Arianna’s possible connections with the Order, the three months traveling through Europe had been blissful. Marcus had been so protective of his daughter that Arianna hadn’t traveled much, and it was lovely to experience the continent through her fresh eyes. He reveled in the challenge of finding new ways to delight her. The hardest part was having to let her go so that she could spend time with Theores and Ismen, allowing Anock’s plan to unfold by giving her opportunities to contact the Order.
He consoled himself about having to spend so much time away from her by finding new ways to delight her at night, in bed. As a consolation, it was pretty damn good; she was eager to try new things, to give and take pleasure, and she seemed to trust him completely. And more than anything else, he was happy that it was her sharing his bed, sharing her body with him.
But it also made the bloodlust even worse.
Actually, it had gotten to the point where everything—except, of course, the scuba diving—seemed to be making the bloodlust even worse, and nothing was alleviating it. The longer he kept her with him, sleeping in the same bed, making love to her, spending days with her, the harder it was for him to contain the bloodlust.
The usual weekly feeding from the bloodstock supply had stopped being satisfying long ago. He experimented with adding a second feeding, and then a third, and now he fed every day. The pride’s bloodstock couldn’t keep up with the extra demand he was placing on them, and the pride had to buy two more bloodstock to keep up. Although no one had said anything to him about it, it was embarrassing; it made him feel like an out-of-control youth, not a centuries-old leader of his people. And it didn’t even work.
He had to admit the truth. It wasn’t the quantity of blood that he was or wasn’t getting that was causing the problem; it was the pull on his soul to blood-bond. Arianna had offered him her vein many times over the past three months, but each time, he’d turned her down. He was determined to endure whatever it took to win her forever. Anock had proposed giving her three months; well, it had been three months, and Arianna hadn’t attempted to contact the Order. It seemed that Tor’s sufferings would soon be coming to an end.
* * *
Anock was waiting in Tor’s study when the King came in for his daily feeding. Tor was wearing a black silk robe and had obviously just slipped out of bed. That wasn’t unusual; they took all precautions to keep Arianna from witnessing the feeding, and Tor often waited for her to fall asleep. Of course, she knew they kept bloodstock and fed on their blood, but there was a world of difference between knowing that it happened and actually witnessing it.
Maybe, Anock thought, I should come by at a better time. When he’s more ... dressed. More prepared.
No, he needed to get this over with.
“Sir,” Anock began, “I need to talk to you.”
“Can it wait until after the feeding?” Tor shot back, sounding irritated. But then he looked up at Anock and his face changed, registered concern. “What’s wrong, my son?”
Anock didn’t answer.
“Okay, let’s call down for the blood first, then talk. It looks like you need some nourishment. When did you last feed?”
“I don’t remember.” Anock shrugged. “I’m fine, really.”
“I don’t think so.” Tor picked up the in-house phone and ordered blood for both of them.
While Tor was doing that, Anock went to the window, opened it, and stood before it, breathing in the fresh air and trying to look absorbed in his thoughts. But really, he was stalling. It was true, though: the conversation would be easier if they both had blood, if they had something to do with their hands. Or maybe he was just telling himself that.
The blood was delivered within a few minutes, and seconds later they had both picked up their glasses and taken chairs opposite each other.
Tor took a big swig of his, then winced as he lowered the goblet, as though it tasted foul on his tongue. “It’s killing me, Anock. I don’t think I can take it any more.”
“I know. I’m sorry ...” Anock set his glass back on the table, his heart heavy. His plan had worked, but since worked in this case was turning out to mean misery for Tor, whom he adored, it felt more like a defeat than a success.
Tor had saved Anock when Anock was only seven, nearly five hundred years ago. The King, together with his Guardians of the Lioness, which Anock now headed, had freed a fortress in Spain held by the Amiti. Nearly two years earlier, the Amiti had killed Anock’s parents, but had spared the five-year-old Anock. They’d locked him up in a cage like a wild animal along with two other Sekhmi children for the warriors to find when they searched the fortress. No one knew why the Amiti had spared the children; presumably they just didn’t have the heart to kill children and were waiting until they grew up? The two others were adopted by Sekhmi families. Anock turned out to be the luckiest one, chosen by Tor himself to join the Royal pride. Tor had been the father every boy dreamed of.
And Anock had vowed that he’d do anything within his power, always, to protect his father. It hadn’t occurred to him that protecting Tor’s safety might mean breaking his heart.
Anock locked eyes with Tor. Sekhmet, help me. Give me courage, Goddess.
“She made contact with the Order,” he said quickly.
Slowly, Tor put his glass on the table and then turned his head to stare out the open window.
“Continue,” the King finally said, his voice
almost a whisper.
“This happened yesterday, but I wanted to give you a little more time with her.” Anock paused, studying Tor’s face. Not a muscle moved; nothing about his posture or expression betrayed what was unfolding inside him.
But Anock knew Tor far too well to be fooled by his placid demeanor.
“She went shopping with Ismen and Theores, and then they went to a café for a cup of coffee. Ismen and Theores left Arianna alone and went to the bathroom. They said they didn’t even think anything could possibly happen then—Arianna couldn’t think they’d be leaving her for long—but they hadn’t had any other good opportunities to leave her alone earlier during the day, so they did what they could. As soon as they disappeared, a female, way too gorgeous to be anything but Amiti, sat down at her table. She started whispering to Arianna, but you know my boys have great hearing. The female told her that Oberon and Serena wanted to know how the plan was going.”
A silence like a heavy curtain descended in the room. Calmly, Tor picked up his glass and sipped from it. Anock noticed that he didn’t grimace this time; he probably wasn’t tasting anything right now.
“What did Arianna say?” Tor finally asked.
“She said ‘nothing yet.’ The female told her to keep working on it, then she left. They followed her, but she probably shifted into a human form, and of course she was shielding, so we couldn’t detect her that way. They did get pictures of her, though. According to our database, it was Desiree, Oberon’s sister.”
“Thank you, son.” Tor’s voice was resigned as he rose from his chair and headed for the door, leaving his drink unfinished on the table.
At the door, he turned back to Anock. “Please, I want you, Ken and Shakir to join me in an hour. Wait for me in the hall.”
Chapter 53
Arianna had awakened to find Tor gone. He did that a lot, but always came back quickly, so she decided to take a quick shower while she waited for his return. But really, who was she kidding? Showers in the bathroom in Tor’s suite never ended up being quick. The shower was amazing; it captured her in its warm, humid arms, enveloped her in steam and the fantastic smells of its soaps and hair products, and lulled her into total unawareness of the passage of time. As usual, she found herself humming, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of the sudsy water sliding down her body.
She smiled as she sensed Tor coming into the bathroom. Keeping her eyes closed, she put on an ever-so-subtle show for him, running her hands over her body as she rinsed and swaying a little so that she could feel—and hopefully he could see—her thick hair flowing along with the water cascading down her back.
And then he was behind her, naked and pressed up against her body. She startled at the sudden chill of his skin against her overheated back, but it took no time at all for his body to heat up.
Just like that, the languorous desire she’d felt as soon as he entered the room was replaced by a fever of longing. It had been, what, an hour since they’d last made love? He always, unerringly, took her to heights of ecstasy she hadn’t thought possible—and somehow she still always wanted more. Would she never get enough of him?
She turned around and wrapped her arms around him, catching his lips with hers. He kissed her hard, sliding his hands slowly down along her slick waist and hips, and then dropped to his knees, holding her hips with both hands, and pressed his face to her stomach.
Arianna held her breath, held her whole body still, indulging in the sensations of Tor’s hot lips on her skin and the familiar, but always new, feeling of sliding into an ocean of ecstasy. And then she couldn’t keep still anymore, gasping for breath, writhing against him, letting her hands caress her own body since his was out of reach. She was flying, so close that as soon as his mouth touched her core, she exploded. Almost losing her balance, she grabbed at his head.
“Don’t touch me. Hold onto the bar.”
Arianna obeyed, reaching behind her for the bar embedded in the shower wall. Holding it made her feel steadier, more secure, but having her arms spread and hands behind her left her body completely exposed to him, and his command restrained her as effectively as actual cuffs would have. In fact, even more effectively than real cuffs, she realized with a rush, because she believed in him: she trusted completely in his ability both to keep her safe and to make her scream with pleasure.
So no, her hands weren’t going anywhere. She gave herself over to him, to the feel of his hands and mouth working her body in the wet heat of the shower, able to enjoy the slow, deliberate way his lips and tongue moved, covering every inch of her, kissing and licking her like he was trying to memorize all of her body.
Even holding onto the bar, she almost lost her balance again when Tor unexpectedly pulled away from her and stood up, his eyes raking down her body as he did so. She shuddered again at how open and vulnerable she felt—and how much she liked it. A realization of how far she’d come since the first time they’d made love burst through her, and a rush of elation followed in its wake. Giddy with the feeling, she looked up at Tor with what she knew must be a ridiculously goofy grin on her face.
But Tor just stared at her seriously, heavy-lidded, and then turned her around so that she was facing the wall. “Keep your hands there,” he commanded gruffly, placing her hands on the tiled shower wall.
Arianna closed her eyes and focused on the smoldering trails his caressing hands left as they slid across her body. The warm streams of water and the humid air around them made her think suddenly of Brazil, of Anavilhanas. Goddess, how long it had been since she’d been there—it seemed like a lifetime ago. She saw herself standing beneath a waterfall, leaning against a slick rock formation, every cell in her body singing with joy as she soared and tumbled through one climax, then another.
She came back to earth to feel Tor cupping her breasts and then sliding his hands down her front to part her legs. Nipping at her neck and ears, he shifted her hips so that her back was arched. She arched farther, pushed back against him, offering herself to him.
There was a brief pause where he stopped moving and everything seemed suspended in time. And then Tor shoved into her, hard, making her cry out in surprise and pleasure. He thrust into her again and again, urgently, almost violently, his fingers digging into her hips and pulling her back into him as he pushed forward so that their bodies were crashing against each other, over and over.
It wasn’t long before she came again, and his orgasm followed hers. They both slid to the floor, panting, and then crawled out of the shower onto the thick rug in the center of the tile floor. Arianna pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, using him like a mattress.
“Now it’s my turn. Don’t move. Keep your hands still,” she ordered, pressing his hands into the floor, laughing as she mimicked him. Then she bit his ear, hard, and took him just as fiercely as he’d taken her, straddling him, rising over him and plunging down again to push him deep inside her, rocking against him, bending her head to brush him with the silk of her hair.
Finally, exhausted, they stumbled to the bed. She fell asleep in his arms.
* * *
Tor held her for almost an hour, just listening to her breathe. How was he going to live without her?
He nudged her gently, waking her up.
“We need to go.”
“Go? Where?” She rolled over, rubbing her cheek against his side.
“You’ll see. Put on something warm.” At her questioning look, he muttered, “It’s going to be chilly where we’re going.”
He heard his voice as though from far away. It wasn’t his voice.
Maybe he was wrong? Maybe he shouldn’t be doing this. For a second he almost panicked, feeling his body leap with joy at the possibility.
No. It was his weakness talking. He had to do this, had to get it over with as quickly as possible. He got up and went to the walk-in closet to get dressed. She joined him, putting on high-heeled sandals and a light cashmere dress with a matching cardiga
n. He thought about telling her to change into something sturdier, more casual, but really, did it matter? Someone could bring her more appropriate clothes later on. And the less he said, the better.
Anock, Ken and Shakir met them in the hall, their faces grim. Not seeming to notice, Arianna started to head toward the front of the house. Tor had to stop her. “No. This way.”
Anock pushed a concealed button, and a panel in the wall opened to reveal an elevator. Once Anock had stepped inside, Tor gently nudged Arianna forward. The others entered after them.
As the elevator began its descent, the guys were all staring down at their feet or up at the ceiling, anywhere but at Arianna. Their lack of subtly made Tor cringe inside, so he forced himself to look right at her, arranging his expression into a mild smile. But it felt as if he was looking through a plexiglass screen, as though if she spoke to him, her words would sound muffled.
But the plexiglass didn’t keep him from recognizing the instant she figured out something was terribly wrong. He saw her body tense, saw her shudder as if spiders were crawling across her skin, and then she grabbed his hand, clenching it and looking up at him like a frightened child, eyes clouded with uncertainty. He forced himself to keep looking back at her, keep that awful, tepid smile on his face, but it was taking every ounce of the self-control he’d been practicing for centuries not to drop to his knees and beg her to forgive him, tell her he loved her and everything would be okay.
The elevator door opened and they stepped out into a narrow hallway lit with ceiling panels of industrial-strength fluorescent lights.
“I don’t like it here. I want to go back,” she whimpered. He could feel her hand quaking in his.
They were met by George, the human who took care of the bloodstock and managed the blood supply, and led to one of the heavy metal doors that stood evenly spaced down the length of the hall. When George opened the door, Arianna clutched Tor’s hand in a death-grip, as if her trust in him was the only thing keeping her from collapsing to the floor.
