A Mermaid's Ransom (Daughters of Arianne 3)

"What's that?"

He sighed. "I have already seen women in your world. At the park, on your television. Your mother, the seawitch. Many are beautiful, and they all interest me. As everything about this world interests me."

She bit her lip. "See--"

"Hush," he said absently, watching squirrels play in a spiral around the trunk of a tree covered with flowers the color of sapphires. "But from the first dream, you were different. There is something . . . different that happens with you. A lightness inside my chest, when I am with you. Nothing is right, but everything may be, eventually, as long as I have you near me."

Cupping her face, he caressed her worried brow. Alexis savored the contact, pressing into his touch. "There is a connection between us," he murmured, watching her reaction. "I am no longer certain it was only my magic that brought you through to my world. The strength of the bond between us may have been the essential ingredient the magic needed to succeed. And your witch was right. When you pulled me through to your world, I should have been obliterated. Magic does not forgive the breaking of its rules. The only way it was possible had to be because you and I are a part of one another. Which may be the only evidence there are some merciful powers in the world," he added flatly.

When Alexis tilted her face into his palm, pressing her lips to it, he drew away. "I'm filthy with blood. You will not suffer me like this."

She didn't care. She just wanted him. She wanted to have a short hour where she didn't have to weigh her feelings against what he had or hadn't done and decide what to do. All of those things mattered, would have to be dealt with, but this moment was the most important one now. Her emotions were going to overcome her, because everything she'd seen and heard, it still meant nothing against how much she wanted and needed him. And the conflict of that was going to tear her apart if she couldn't lose herself in him for this small bit of time. Eden didn't judge. Eden just was, bringing out the best in every soul. Maybe that was why she'd wanted so desperately to bring him here. To confirm what she'd assured everyone else she knew.

My crimes are not your burden, Alexis. I will deal with them.

But--

He shook his head, the set to his face telling her to leave it alone. Swallowing, she managed to speak, though there was jagged glass in her throat. "Then let me help wash off the blood."

"All right." He rose, taking her hand to pull her to her feet, and when he did, the gravity of the slope took her a step or two into him, bare body against bare body. Despite his intentions to be clean before he touched her, Dante didn't push her away this time. Despite her intention to hold herself in check, Lex had her arms around his neck, body pressed tight against him and face in his neck without any careful deliberation at all. She felt his sigh, and knew it was relief, an easing of pain, for both of them. Bending to put an arm under her thighs, he lifted and took her to the water.

It was shallow, and the water was of course the temperature most conducive to her desires. Cool, but not cold, and balanced by the warmth of the breeze that continued to play along their bare skin. He waded in, stopping at his waist, and let her legs down. Alexis stayed as close as possible, holding him, and he kept a tight grip on her as well, apparently reluctant to part, which reassured her beyond measure. Using her hands to wet his arms and chest, she began to wash the blood away. But he stopped her to take them both under, make them completely wet. When they came up, he was deeper, up to the chest, which put her in to her neck. Twining around him, she used the grip of her legs to hold on to him as she explored his skin, caressing the blood away.

The physical wounds were nearly gone now. Starting at his skull, she stroked his wet long hair, following it down to the water's edge, where the strands floated in the water like a sea fern, only much softer. What was going on in his head? Oh, Goddess, she was a love-struck, besotted idiot. He was alive. Hers. Every wounded, fascinating, tormented inch of him.

Putting his hand behind her neck, he brought her to his mouth, driving every thought from her head as her body surged to life beneath his touch. She cried out in relief against his lips. His other hand spread out further, fingers teasing the top of her buttocks, nudging her against the broad head of a hard shaft that told her where his mind was now, regardless of what troubled waters it had been visiting.

But then he drew back. Despite the obvious urgent demand of his body, he traced her lips, her cheekbones, absorbed in looking at her. Her legs trembled in their grip upon him as his words resounded in her mind.

Know this. If there had been nothing in this world but you, it would have been worth everything to get here. Do not ever be ashamed of your ability to love, Alexis. Even if I do not understand it yet, I am not such a fool that I don't see it for the treasure it is.

From the first time she'd met him, he'd never said anything carelessly, or without intent, careful consideration. She promised herself to remember that in the future, whenever his lack of spontaneity drove her crazy.

The tears fell again despite the wry thought, and fell even faster when he leaned forward and placed his lips on them, kissing each one away, a strand of emotion that twisted into the physical. He adjusted his position, stretching her ready opening as he began to take her down on his cock. It was passion, but with this emotional connection, it was affirmation, a way to split her heart in two even as she rejoiced at the pain.

The distance between them disappeared, and he was kissing her mouth again. Her arms slid around his shoulders, nails digging in as he seated her fully, and her body rippled in erotic response. Closing his hands on her shoulders, he arched her backward so he could put his mouth on her breast, sucking the water off the nipple and then drawing it deep into heat and a different kind of wetness. Her hips moved of their own accord, but his voice came into her head.

Be still upon me, Alexis. Do not move until I tell you that you can.

That powerful command could be a mere whisper in her mind and still hold her immobile, though a mewl of frustration came from her lips, her body quivering with the desire.

The more you obey me, the wetter you get. I want you that way for me.

Never had she imagined being taken like this in her childhood paradise, but now it became the perfect setting, all the colors, vivid and yet soft, like the enchantment of an Impressionist painting, a soft, dreamlike haze, the most brilliant colors coming from inside her head, spots in her vision as her desire rose.

He was taking his time, nursing her breast as if he planned to do that for eternity, and the longer he did it, the more out of control she felt. Her body stayed still, but she was moaning, pleading, gasping his name, becoming so mindless she was soon going to be saying words that she was sur

e the blessed environment of Eden had never heard among its hallowed trees.

Her muscles spasmed along his length involuntarily and he slid halfway out, then back in. It was enough. With a surprised gasp, she started to come. Realizing her dilemma, he shoved back in, but then held her still on him, letting her muscles milk him and the release come from deep inside of her instead of from her clit, a powerful, stunning reaction that had her shuddering, moaning in deep, guttural sounds.

Holding her close to him, he began to move through the water, the impact of each step an aftershock that had her whimpering. When he reached the bank, he laid her down, holding her with the strength of one arm, keeping them joined. As his palm shifted, he caressed that flame on her lower back, the sign of his third mark upon her.

"Come for me, too," she whispered, reaching up to his face, tracing the pale brow. "Let me give you blood."

He thrust deep into her again, wrenching a raw cry from her throat for he became rougher, finding his own release. Their hands met and he held them out to either side of her, demanding a full surrender. She tilted her head away, knowing everything he wanted and needed from her, and she moaned as he bit into the artery, taking her blood in a shuddering finale that seemed to float on and on, the two of them adrift on a sea of their own desires and deepest wishes.

When he finally let go of her hands, she slid her fingers down his broad back, reveling in his weight upon her, face pressed into her neck, the strands of his hair across her lips. He kept up his movements for a while even after his release, and she moved with him, a soothing, sensual rock that had no beginning or end, the rhythm itself a circular language that could answer every fear and question she had.

Pressing a finger to his mouth, she collected a tiny smear of blood there. He licked it from her skin, causing a shudder to go through her still aroused body, and then met her gaze.

"The beads and ribbons."

"What?" she asked.

"The pouch. Your father gave it to me to hold them. I brought back the beads and ribbons, the things they put on my body from the females I killed." He traced the curve of her face, her lips. "I'm not sure why, but it was important. I thought I should keep them with me."