Burning Dawn
Page 33
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“So gracious,” she tsked. “What did you say to him? Did you ask him if I was a dirty liar?”
There was a strained pause. Then, “I asked if he was sure that’s what he wanted.”
“And?”
“And, he threatened to stake me.”
Ouch.
“I’m sorry for what’s to come, human,” he said, when finally they reached the suite. “I’d sneak you back to land if I thought it would make any difference. But he would follow, and neither of us would like what happened when he found you.”
“That’s not very comforting.”
“At this point, there’s nothing that will be.”
She stepped past the doors. He returned to the hallway and shut the entrance in her face, sealing her inside, before she could demand details.
CHAPTER NINE
THANE STOOD AT the edge of the couch, peering down at a sleeping Elin. He would never tire of looking at her. Dark hair tumbled around her delicate shoulders. Long lashes cast shadows over the sweet definition of her cheekbones. Her freckles beckoned. Her soft lips parted as she released a breathy sigh. Of what did she dream? And why did she continue to affect him so strongly—more strongly every day? Today his heart had sped into a wild beat at the first sight of her. Worse, sending her away had been torture.
He’d wanted so badly to go to her, but he’d left the meeting with the Sent Ones to speak to another group of males he... Trusted wasn’t the right word. Utilized upon occasion. Yes. Better.
The Lords of the Underworld were immortal warriors possessed by the demons once locked inside Pandora’s box, and, surprisingly enough, they were currently on the side of the Sent Ones, their would-be assassins. They fought the evil they hosted, rather than encouraging it, which made them worthy allies in the heavenly warriors’ eyes.
Thane had asked about the shadow creatures now connected to Bjorn.
William had been there, pale and withdrawn, drinking and trying to forget the death of his daughter. “I know them,” the male had said. “They were birthed in a realm unlike any other, dark without any hint of light. They are hive-minded. They have a queen, and they obey her without question. She is...” He shuddered. “If they’re afraid of your soldier, then he’s protected by her—or united with her. Either way, he’d be better off dead. And castrated.”
Thane had fumed all the way home. He’d hoped to find a female in the bar and calm himself the only way he knew how—a plan he’d actually despised. But then he’d remembered his order to Elin and nearly mowed down his entire staff in an effort to reach her.
And here she was. Safe and sound.
Ripe enough to be plucked.
Her soap-and-cherries scent saturated every inch of the room. He’d always resented foreign fragrances on his things, but this...this he liked.
Elin was in an upright position, her head resting on the back of the couch. Had she fought her body’s need for rest, only to succumb where she sat?
A small glass shard peeked from the top of a white-knuckled grip. Still frightened of him?
Careful not to wake her or cut her delicate skin, he pried the shard loose. Her skin was ice-cold, he noted, and frowned. With so little clothing, and no blanket, the air had chilled her.
He stalked to his bedroom—his, not the one he used for his women—and grabbed the softest blanket in his possession. Laughing male voices filtered through the crack underneath Bjorn’s door as he strode back to the sitting room.
Thank the Most High. His friend had found some levity.
At the couch, he willed his robe to conform to his body and separate into a shirt and a pair of pants. Then he removed the shirt, wanting fewer barriers between the heat of his skin and Elin. He gathered her in his arms. So light, so soft. As trusting as a child, she snuggled her head in the hollow of his neck, seeking closer contact. He had to bite his tongue to silence a moan of pleasure.
Pleasure. Over this. What was wrong with him?
Reeling, he turned and eased onto the couch, settling the girl on his lap. He draped the blanket around her, cinching her in a cocoon of heat. Mistake! Her scent grew stronger. Her breath fanned over his chest, as erotic as a caress, and her hand fluttered over his shaft.
He hardened in an instant.
Resist her. Yes, he would resist her. Even as his body trembled with undeniable thrums of arousal. He would warm her up, wake her up, then escort her back to her room. Then he would find an appropriate woman to slake his desires.
Elin rubbed her cheek against his pectoral and purred, her mouth perilously close to his nipple.
Lick me. Taste me.
His arms tightened around her. He didn’t want an appropriate woman. He wanted this one. But...
He imagined her chained and struggling.
He shuddered, more horrified than ever.
He imagined her crying and begging as he injured her, perhaps scarring her as Kendra had.
A shudder of revulsion shook him.
He imagined Elin standing behind him, using one of his plethora of tools to inflict pain on him, with delight in her eyes.
Cold sweat beaded over his skin.
He’d experienced this type of reaction before. With her. Only her. But it was beginning to spill over into other areas. Like every time he thought about the women he’d bedded, and how he’d never really known them. The kind of lives they’d led. Carefree...or as tormented as his own.
Had he heaped hurt on already hurting women? Crowded them with so many weeds they couldn’t breathe?
The guilt...
He couldn’t do the same to Elin. Couldn’t add to her anguish. Wouldn’t.
But he had to have her.
Take her, then. Gently. Maybe you’ll like it. Maybe you won’t. Either way...
Either way, she would be his.
And he could ensure she enjoyed it, whether or not he did. He could please her as much—or more—than her husband.
A dangerous thought, for she might want more from him.
A tempting thought, for that very reason.
If he found himself reverting to habit, as he feared he might, he would stop and walk away. He would leave her satisfied, but he would leave her.
Now, all he had to do was convince Elin.
* * *
ELIN WOKE UP GRADUALLY, several facts slowly pushing into her awareness. She was cozied up to a warm male body, and that warm male body didn’t belong to the twenty-year-old Bay, who’d been lean, like a long-distance runner. It was too wide. Too hard. Too...everything. The male body did belong to Thane. She would recognize his dangerous champagne scent anywhere.
There was a strained pause. Then, “I asked if he was sure that’s what he wanted.”
“And?”
“And, he threatened to stake me.”
Ouch.
“I’m sorry for what’s to come, human,” he said, when finally they reached the suite. “I’d sneak you back to land if I thought it would make any difference. But he would follow, and neither of us would like what happened when he found you.”
“That’s not very comforting.”
“At this point, there’s nothing that will be.”
She stepped past the doors. He returned to the hallway and shut the entrance in her face, sealing her inside, before she could demand details.
CHAPTER NINE
THANE STOOD AT the edge of the couch, peering down at a sleeping Elin. He would never tire of looking at her. Dark hair tumbled around her delicate shoulders. Long lashes cast shadows over the sweet definition of her cheekbones. Her freckles beckoned. Her soft lips parted as she released a breathy sigh. Of what did she dream? And why did she continue to affect him so strongly—more strongly every day? Today his heart had sped into a wild beat at the first sight of her. Worse, sending her away had been torture.
He’d wanted so badly to go to her, but he’d left the meeting with the Sent Ones to speak to another group of males he... Trusted wasn’t the right word. Utilized upon occasion. Yes. Better.
The Lords of the Underworld were immortal warriors possessed by the demons once locked inside Pandora’s box, and, surprisingly enough, they were currently on the side of the Sent Ones, their would-be assassins. They fought the evil they hosted, rather than encouraging it, which made them worthy allies in the heavenly warriors’ eyes.
Thane had asked about the shadow creatures now connected to Bjorn.
William had been there, pale and withdrawn, drinking and trying to forget the death of his daughter. “I know them,” the male had said. “They were birthed in a realm unlike any other, dark without any hint of light. They are hive-minded. They have a queen, and they obey her without question. She is...” He shuddered. “If they’re afraid of your soldier, then he’s protected by her—or united with her. Either way, he’d be better off dead. And castrated.”
Thane had fumed all the way home. He’d hoped to find a female in the bar and calm himself the only way he knew how—a plan he’d actually despised. But then he’d remembered his order to Elin and nearly mowed down his entire staff in an effort to reach her.
And here she was. Safe and sound.
Ripe enough to be plucked.
Her soap-and-cherries scent saturated every inch of the room. He’d always resented foreign fragrances on his things, but this...this he liked.
Elin was in an upright position, her head resting on the back of the couch. Had she fought her body’s need for rest, only to succumb where she sat?
A small glass shard peeked from the top of a white-knuckled grip. Still frightened of him?
Careful not to wake her or cut her delicate skin, he pried the shard loose. Her skin was ice-cold, he noted, and frowned. With so little clothing, and no blanket, the air had chilled her.
He stalked to his bedroom—his, not the one he used for his women—and grabbed the softest blanket in his possession. Laughing male voices filtered through the crack underneath Bjorn’s door as he strode back to the sitting room.
Thank the Most High. His friend had found some levity.
At the couch, he willed his robe to conform to his body and separate into a shirt and a pair of pants. Then he removed the shirt, wanting fewer barriers between the heat of his skin and Elin. He gathered her in his arms. So light, so soft. As trusting as a child, she snuggled her head in the hollow of his neck, seeking closer contact. He had to bite his tongue to silence a moan of pleasure.
Pleasure. Over this. What was wrong with him?
Reeling, he turned and eased onto the couch, settling the girl on his lap. He draped the blanket around her, cinching her in a cocoon of heat. Mistake! Her scent grew stronger. Her breath fanned over his chest, as erotic as a caress, and her hand fluttered over his shaft.
He hardened in an instant.
Resist her. Yes, he would resist her. Even as his body trembled with undeniable thrums of arousal. He would warm her up, wake her up, then escort her back to her room. Then he would find an appropriate woman to slake his desires.
Elin rubbed her cheek against his pectoral and purred, her mouth perilously close to his nipple.
Lick me. Taste me.
His arms tightened around her. He didn’t want an appropriate woman. He wanted this one. But...
He imagined her chained and struggling.
He shuddered, more horrified than ever.
He imagined her crying and begging as he injured her, perhaps scarring her as Kendra had.
A shudder of revulsion shook him.
He imagined Elin standing behind him, using one of his plethora of tools to inflict pain on him, with delight in her eyes.
Cold sweat beaded over his skin.
He’d experienced this type of reaction before. With her. Only her. But it was beginning to spill over into other areas. Like every time he thought about the women he’d bedded, and how he’d never really known them. The kind of lives they’d led. Carefree...or as tormented as his own.
Had he heaped hurt on already hurting women? Crowded them with so many weeds they couldn’t breathe?
The guilt...
He couldn’t do the same to Elin. Couldn’t add to her anguish. Wouldn’t.
But he had to have her.
Take her, then. Gently. Maybe you’ll like it. Maybe you won’t. Either way...
Either way, she would be his.
And he could ensure she enjoyed it, whether or not he did. He could please her as much—or more—than her husband.
A dangerous thought, for she might want more from him.
A tempting thought, for that very reason.
If he found himself reverting to habit, as he feared he might, he would stop and walk away. He would leave her satisfied, but he would leave her.
Now, all he had to do was convince Elin.
* * *
ELIN WOKE UP GRADUALLY, several facts slowly pushing into her awareness. She was cozied up to a warm male body, and that warm male body didn’t belong to the twenty-year-old Bay, who’d been lean, like a long-distance runner. It was too wide. Too hard. Too...everything. The male body did belong to Thane. She would recognize his dangerous champagne scent anywhere.
