by Leia Shaw
“Well I’m not staying in your bedroom forever.”
“Wanna bet?” he growled then shoved his tongue between her lips to cut off any protest. Her hips bucked against his erection and that was all the invitation he needed. Using the heel of his hand he rubbed against the soft flesh between her lips.
“God, that feels so good,” she murmured against his mouth as she continued to taste and tease him like a wildcat. “What about you?” She reached for the button on his jeans.
He grabbed her wrist and pressed it against the wall next to her head. “No. This is for you.”
His fingers delved into her opening. Just a few thrusts and she cried out, arching and quivering in his arms. Her muscles squeezed his fingers as her orgasm went on. Her face flushed a brilliant shade of pink. He felt a surge of pride that she was so responsive to his touch.
“Gods, you’re beautiful when you come,” he said as her panting subsided and she melted into his arms. He carried her to the bed and gently laid her sated body down.
“I’m going to start calling you tentadora,” he told her once she’d recovered.
“What does that mean?”
“Temptress.”
She gave him a flirty smile and batted her lashes. “Who me?”
He chuckled. “Or maybe diablo pequeño.”
She gasped in mock horror. “I am not a little devil!”
“So you do understand Spanish.” He sat down next to her on the bed.
“A little,” she answered with a shrug. “La piscina. Don’t piss in the pool.”
“What?”
“Piscina is pool. Don’t piss-een-a pool. That’s how I remembered it for a test.”
He laughed out loud. “The language has changed quite a bit in the last few centuries. I try to keep up but I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that one before.”
Her gaze locked onto his still raging hard-on. “I want to satisfy you too, Marcelo.”
“Don’t worry about me. You can tend to me later. In fact, I’ll insist on it. But first, your present.”
Her eyes lit up.
“Did you forget?”
She gave him a sideways glance. “I’ve been a little distracted.”
He smiled then jumped off the bed. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
***
Aila sat up against the headboard, pulling the sheet to cover her breasts. Naked in bed with Marcelo? She smiled. It just felt right.
He strolled back in the room wearing a proud smirk holding something delicately across his palms. A sheathed sword?
He pulled it out of the sheath and handed it to her, hilt first. With a long glance she admired it. It was short. Not really a sword, more like a dagger. The hilt was covered with jewels – emeralds and rubies that sparkled in the light flooding from the window. Ornate designs were etched into the metal between each jewel. Aila was no weapons expert – in fact, she’d never even seen a sword up close – but instinctively she knew this one was special.
“Are these real?” she asked fingering the jewels with admiration.
“Of course.”
“Wow.” She studied it, turning it over in her palms. The weight and size was perfect for her small build. She could picture herself swinging it, felling enemies left and right. She choked on a laugh. I’m probably more likely to stab myself. “Where did you get it?”
He shrugged. “Just picked it up in my travels.”
“And you want to give it to me?”
He nodded then took it from her and put it back in the sheath. “But I don’t want you using it until I teach you how to properly wield it.” He set it aside then faced her with teasing eyes. “Knowing you, you’d probably manage to slit my throat. I know you have an affinity for that spot.”
She ignored the jibe. “Are you sure you want to give it to me? It looks very valuable.”
He frowned then sat down on the bed beside her. “It is you who is valuable, querida. This sword is…a trinket. It doesn’t even come close to representing my commitment to you.”
“Commitment?” She pulled the sheet higher, feeling vulnerable all of the sudden. “Are you talking about marriage?”
He took her hand, his larger one enveloping hers in warmth. “Aila, there is no marriage for immortals. When you find your mate and consummate the relationship, your souls bind together. Forever. It’s better than marriage.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Didn’t you feel it? After we made love?”
She felt something, that was for sure. “I felt all warm inside. And glowing. Like something clicked into place within me. An overwhelming feeling that I’m right where I should be. Was that our souls?”
“I’d like to think so.”
“So, we’re mated?”
He looked deep into her eyes, hope flaring within his. “We are. And there’s no going back, Aila love. So I hope –”
“No. I don’t want to go back. But there’s something missing.”
A flash of panic crossed his features before he smoothed it into a frown. “What is it?”
“Well, you said you wanted to symbolize your feelings for me, but you never told me what those feelings are.”
Love. I need to hear it.
He cocked his head to the side and kept that same frown. “Aila, do you not know by now that I love you from the depths of my soul?”
Her heart leapt and her stomach danced with butterflies. She shrugged, holding back the smile tugging on her lips. “You never said so.”
He cupped her face with one hand. His voice came out as a husky whisper. “Ah, love, I didn’t think I had to. But allow me to compensate. I have been inside your mind, in your heart, and seen every inch of your delectable skin.” He traced her bottom lip with his thumb. “I have looked inside your very soul, even in the dark corners you like to hide.” He leaned in so close she could feel his breath against her skin. “And, Aila, by the gods, I have found you matchless.” His lips brushed against the corner of her mouth.
She swallowed hard but remained perfectly still.
“Thoroughly and utterly,” he kissed the other side of her mouth, “extraordinary. And in case that isn’t clear enough…I love you. I don’t think I could possibly love anything more than I love you.”
Tears flowed down her cheeks, soaking the palm still cupping her face. With his thumbs he wiped the tears away then kissed each wet cheek, ending with a long gentle kiss on her lips.
And there he was, at the bottom of that cliff. Ready to catch her. She should have known all along.
“Marcelo,” she said, embarrassed of how her voice trembled, but she met those deep, brown eyes and held his gaze. “If you claim me as your mate, then I claim you too. You are mine just as much as I am yours.”
“Querida, I was yours the moment I tucked you into bed with me at that hotel in Albany.”
“And I was yours when you told me that god-awful joke about bloodhounds.” He chuckled in response. “And I love you too.”
He pulled her into his embrace, holding her head against his warm chest. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”
They sat in silence, holding one another. After a few minutes, when Aila had finally gained control of her emotions, she pushed away and said, “No, really. Where did you get the sword?”
He laid back against the pillow, pulling her down with him, and gathering her into his arms. “Well, I used to be a privateer.”
“A privateer? What’s that?”
“I believe it’s what you would call a pirate.”
She lifted her head from his chest to look him in the eye. “You used to be a pirate?”
“Yes. And I...commandeered the sword.”
Arching a brow she asked, “Is that a nice way of saying you stole it?”
“Something like that.”
She nestled into the crook of his arm. “A pirate,” she mumbled. “I bet you were a sexy pirate. Will you dress up for me sometime?”
He laughed, a rich sound that resonated deep in his belly. “That depends. Wil
l you dress up too?” Abruptly he swung his body to cover hers. “You can be my wench.”
She squealed when he pulled the sheet out from between them and captured a nipple in his mouth.
“And I’ll say c’mere me buxom beauty,” he muttered into her skin with a thick pirate accent. “You have the finest pirate’s booty I ever laid eyes on.”
Her body shook with laughter. “I think I might dub you king of the worst jokes ever.”
He nipped her breast and she jerked beneath him. “How you wound my ego.”
When the last of her chuckles faded, she threaded her hands in his hair tugging him up to her lips. “Marcelo,” she whispered against his mouth, “make love to me again.”
He gazed down at her with pure male pride. “I’ve never heard finer words.”
A rowdy commotion sounded from below, interrupting their passionate kiss. Aila shot upright in the bed. She was a few seconds behind Marcelo, who’d already pulled jeans on and swung open the door.
He pinned her with a stern glare. “Stay here,” he ordered, then disappeared.
She snorted. “Yeah right.” She pulled on one of Marcelo’s t-shirts she found in the dresser then ran out the door, following the sound of the voices – one of which was familiar.
Halfway down a grand staircase that opened to a large stone foyer, she slowed her pace as five sets of untamed eyes were trained on her. The large bodies surrounded something, or someone, that she couldn’t see but had a feeling was important. The men were huge, covered in leather, and holding a variety of archaic weapons – the kind that would ensure a very slow and painful death. All in all, they were terrifying.
She reached the bottom of the stairwell and her gaze swept the room for Marcelo. She panicked when she couldn’t find him. Five sets of eyes slowly made their way down her body and she remembered she was bare from mid-thigh down. Her face flushed.
“Aila!” an angry voice snapped from behind her. She jumped at the sharpness then sighed in relief. Marcelo appeared in front of her, frowning at her lack of clothing. He pushed her behind his massive body, obstructing her view of the scene. When she tried to peek around him, he growled and tossed a furious look over his shoulder. She had the urge to shove him but considering the company, being covered didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
“What’s going on?” Marcelo asked in a commanding voice.
Someone answered immediately, likely accustomed to following his orders. “We found this lone fae trespassing on our property.”
Lone fae? She tried to step around Marcelo but he backed her into the stair railing and wouldn’t budge.
“Do you have his weapons?” Marcelo asked.
“Of course.”
“Then step back and allow me to address him.”
She heard the shuffling of feet then the familiar voice spoke. “I’m here to see Aila Quinn.”
“Kieran!” she exclaimed, shoving at Marcelo’s back. “Oh, for goodness sake, he’s my friend!”
“Leave us,” Marcelo ordered the other men. She listened as the footsteps faded, then shoved at him again. Finally he stepped aside.
She ran to Kieran and threw her arms around his neck. Thankfully Marcelo’s t-shirt was big enough to keep her behind covered, just barely. She ignored the growl behind her.
“What are you doing here?” She stepped back and took in his solemn expression. “What’s wrong?”
Kieran didn’t answer. His gaze shifted from her face to Marcelo then he clasped his hands together and took a step back. What the hell?
She spun around and met Marcelo’s dark stare. His fists were clenched at his sides, his shoulders tense, his lips curled in a snarl. Suddenly he looked just like the men she’d been terrified of only a few moments before. Deciding not to push her luck, she stepped away from Kieran and placed herself at Marcelo’s side. He wrapped a possessive arm around her shoulders. She stood on tiptoes and pressed a kiss into his neck, letting him know she was still his.
His furious glare left Kieran and set upon her instead. “I told you to stay upstairs.”
It was one thing to act possessive, quite another to act like a dictator. She shot him a dirty look. “No. He’s here to see me. It’s my right to know what’s going on.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest in a motion of determination. When his impassive gaze moved back and forth between her and Kieran, she added, “Don’t want to see me with him? Then you wait upstairs.”
His chest rumbled in warning but she held her ground. Finally, he gave a long sigh, pulled her tight against his body, and motioned for Kieran to talk.
“Zealots have instigated war with the Seelie fae,” he said. “We’re too evenly matched. We’ll wipe each other out. I’m trying to negotiate a peace treaty but we just don’t trust each other. We need help.”
Aila stepped out of Marcelo’s grasp and commanded, “Take me there.”
Marcelo was too quick with a firm, “No.”
Oh boy.
“I don’t want to come between you,” Kieran continued, “but Aila is the only one who can stop this once and for all.”
Marcelo didn’t acknowledge Kieran’s pleading. He kept his gaze on Aila.
“Take me there now!”
“Aila, I’m sorry, but I cannot allow you –”
“Shut it!” she snapped, then put a hand up to stop any coming protest. Marcelo flinched at the uncharacteristic tone. Ignoring the chuckle behind them, Aila continued, softer, “I’m supposed to do this, Marcelo. I just know it. It’s…in my blood or something.”
She huffed in frustration and rubbed her forehead when his face remained unmovable. “You said you would compromise instead of just imposing your will on me.”
He sighed. “Be reasonable, Aila. If the Seelie see you, they’ll kill you on the spot. It’s too dangerous.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course! It’s the bloody fae I don’t trust!” Behind them Kieran scoffed. “I only get one mate, querida.” The back of his hand trailed down her cheek. “You can’t expect me to allow you to walk right into the middle of a war zone.”
“They haven’t begun fighting,” Kieran said. “Not yet. But they will if we don’t act quickly. I’ve arranged a meeting between the light and dark fae leaders. Since Aila is a blood heir of both, I think she could help.”
She wrapped her arms around Marcelo’s waist. “And I won’t be alone. You’ll be there to protect me. And I happen to know you’re the best bodyguard there ever was.”
He sighed again and she smiled inside. He was weakening.
“Aila, I –”
She unwound her arms and stepped back, looking him in the eye. “I trusted you. Now it’s your turn. Show me you trust me too.”
He kept her pinned with his steady glare for a long moment. She tried not to crumble under the intensity. “Go get your weapons,” he finally said in a defeated tone.
She smiled and threw her arms around his neck. “Good. I really didn’t want to have to shoot you in the throat again.”
His brows darted up at the subtle threat and he looked at Kieran. “Do you see what you’ve done?”
She laughed and went to kiss his cheek but he shifted at the last moment. He pressed a firm, possessive kiss on her lips while one hand reached down and gripped her ass. Kieran chuckled and shuffled his feet behind them.
When he released her she gave him a dry look. “Was that really necessary?”
“Completely.” The smirk he was clearly repressing made her smile. He gave her backside a swat when she turned for the stairs. “And put some goddamn clothes on!”
***
Marcelo stared awkwardly at Kieran. He remained perfectly still, like a statue, a mysterious smile on his face that set Marcelo on edge. Weird bloody fae.
“She loves you,” Kieran said. “You’re very lucky.”
Damn straight. And if you ever touch her again –
“Traverse with me.” Marcelo spun around in the direction of Aila’s voice. “I
think I can lower my defenses. I’ve been practicing.”
She handed him his t-shirt and boots and he pulled them on. She must have found Sage’s closet. He was happy to see her dressed in a pair of sturdy leather pants. Less happy with the low cut white tank top.
“Where are they?” he asked Kieran.
“Here in the Underworld. The Demon Lands.”
Just perfect.
Marcelo nodded towards Kieran. “You ready?”
“Yes.”
He turned to Aila. “I can only travel with one passenger at a time. I’ll take the prince first then come back for you.”
While he deposited Kieran, he would assess the situation for himself. If there was any sign of danger, he would break his promise to Aila and follow his original plan – a chain and Antarctica. As far as the prophecy; he’d be damned if he let her slip away because a stranger decided, years ago, that Aila would perform some mysterious miracle to end almost a millennium’s worth of hatred.
Marcelo kissed her forehead then turned to Kieran. Placing one hand on his shoulder, the castle around them disappeared and they were thrown into the middle of a tent camp.
“The big one in the middle,” Kieran said, gesturing with his head toward a tent taller than the others. “I’ll meet you there.”
Marcelo lowered his voice to a threatening whisper. “If this is a trap, fae, I swear to you I will not rest until I have your heart clenched in my fist while I watch the life drain from your eyes.”
Kieran gave him a curt nod, placed a hand on the hilt of his sword then strode across the camp. Marcelo spared a moment to study the scene. Rust colored tents dotted one side of the wide field. Deep forest – where dangerous demons lived – surrounded the valley. Even the fae warriors took care to stay far from the edges of the woods. Swords clashed where fae men practiced combat. Archers sat on boulders and logs, stringing bows and sharpening arrows. Rage filled their blackened eyes, though they murmured in muted whispers. Their muscles twitched, itching for a fight.
On the other side of the flat, grassy field, ivory tents were spread across the terrain. The fae stirred on the Seelie side as well. Tension was thick in the air. Both sides were on the edge of a bloody, violent disaster. This was last fucking place he’d ever choose to bring his female.
