"I have this strange gift. It's never really been good for much, but I can be with someone and look at a map and know they should go to a certain spot, that if they do, something amazing will happen to them. I don't know if it would really help, but if I had the addresses on a map and the ancient standing in front of me, it might work."
His hand smoothed over her hair. "You are a miracle, Gabrielle."
"It might not work," she pointed out. "I always kind of considered the ability a silly parlor trick. I never thought about it before--putting an ancient in the general vicinity of a potential lifemate."
"If that is the case, we will go to the Carpathian Mountains, although I must warn you, kislany, I am beyond ancient. Darkness dwells in me, and I will never be fully rid of it. I have demons that I cannot always overcome. I am from very ancient times. That means, no man touches my woman. He does not put his hands or his mouth on her. He does not hug or kiss her in greeting. Your body is for me alone. All of you. I do not know how long I will be able to tolerate others in close proximity, but for you, I will try. I have seen the long hours, days you put in and, more recently, the nights you have been putting in working. When I tell you enough, there will be no arguing. You will come with me. To me. Do you understand this?"
She was a modern woman and why that would thrill her, she didn't know, but not only did it thrill her, she was damp immediately. She nodded. "Sometimes, when I'm working, I forget the time. You'll have to . . ."
He leaned over and bit her at the junction between her neck and shoulder. Hard. Sinking his teeth in just a little bit. "No. You will comply. I will give you time for your work, but your first duty is always to me. You will come to me when I call to you." His mouth moved against her skin, his tongue lapping at her, taking the sting away. "When I want your body, wherever you are, you will give yourself to me."
She loved that, too. "If I want your body?" she challenged.
"Do I belong to you?"
She didn't hesitate. "Yes."
"My body belongs to you. That is not to say, if you need punishing, I will not prolong your wait."
He sounded far more sensual than threatening, and she shivered. "If that's the case, Aleksei, I want your body right now. I want your mouth back on my breast."
"My lifemate. She needs her man's cock often."
"She needs her man all the time. But yes. I'm very, very fond of your cock."
14
Trixie was absolutely furious. She was too old for this crap. Having men dictate what she could or couldn't do. Silencing her with a wave of their hands. A wave. What was up with that? She wasn't living with that kind of power in a man. No way. Not happening. She went with Fane because she had no choice, but the moment they were back in his ugly shell of a house and he released her, she broke away from him and stomped across the dirt floor to her backpack.
"I'm leaving. I'm going home," she announced, without looking at him. She couldn't look at him. Or be close enough to feel his body heat or inhale his scent. There was something about him that worked on her like a magnet and she wasn't taking any chances. "I will not be treated that way. That man is abusive to that girl and he was to me. You continued . . ." Her gaze fell on her pack, suddenly right there in front of her.
"Trixie."
Fane simply said her name. Gently. Softly. His voice so low she barely caught the thread of sound, yet it vibrated right through her body along with his song. She could hear that, too. She could even see the musical notes floating around the room. His. Hers. Her notes filled in the symphony and it was beautiful. Still, she wouldn't look. Wouldn't acknowledge it. She needed to go home. More, she was going home and no one was going to stop her. Not even the hottest man on earth who gave her mind-shattering orgasms for the first time in her life.
She grabbed the worthless vampire-hunting kit and started discarding the things that didn't do her a bit of good. She wasn't about to carry anything she couldn't use. She was keeping the gun and extra stakes because it was the only weapon available to her. While she stuffed the vials and stakes into her pack, she found a magazine and pulled that out. It looked harmless enough, but she'd learned one could use that innocent-looking item as a very good defense.
She knew she was panicking. She'd only panicked twice in her life. The first time had been when her parents threw her out onto the street because she was pregnant. It had taken three solid days of sobbing in the corner of an alley before she stood up, determined to make a life for herself and her child. The second time was when she stood over her daughter's body watching the life drain out of her while the doctors frantically tried to save her. Both times, she couldn't breathe.
Even as she stuffed her belongings back into her pack and tried to roll up the sleeping bag, she found she couldn't get enough air. She was a fool. Such a fool. How could she have been so stupid? She wasn't fifteen anymore. She knew one didn't risk their entire family, their life for a brief fling. And that's all this would ever be. A fling. Because for one moment, this man--a total stranger--had made her feel beautiful and sexy. He'd made her feel like a woman, not an empty shell.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She ducked her head to try to draw in deep breaths. Whatever these people were, no matter how beautiful their songs, how melancholy or sweet, they were powerful and dangerous. She wanted no part of that. She had a family. People she loved. People she protected. Whatever spell Fane had cast over her was gone. She was leaving. She'd sort out her head later. Way later, when she was on the long flight back to the United States.
Trixie felt heat at her back. Fane's masculine scent enveloped her. When she drew in air, she drew in him. His scent. His presence. His hand went to the nape of her neck, his fingers gentle but insistent, holding her head down.
"Breathe, han sivamak," he said softly.
His voice wrapped her up in a cocoon of safety. A web of instant desire. His voice was low and so tender she could almost believe he cared. But she knew better. He had forced her silence. That wasn't a caring thing to do. She refused to cry. She'd shed enough tears when she was fifteen and abandoned by her parents and her boyfriend. They'd knocked her down hard, but she'd stood back up. She didn't understand why this blow felt as deep. As hurtful.
She drew in her breath. Even that was sharp and painful. She could taste him in her mouth. Feel him deep inside of her. She was such a fool. An old fool. She pressed her fingers to her eyes, trying to blink back the burn and ignore the way his fingers massaged her neck. He was so good at what he did. So practiced. She should have known better than to get played. To be seduced. How was she ever going to live with this memory without squirming in embarrassment?
"Stop it, Trixie," he admonished. "You have no reason to be embarrassed. I am your lifemate.
Of course you responded to me."
She detested his voice. His touch. He managed to get inside her, pierce her every shield with those two things, and she wouldn't allow it to happen again. Taking a last deep breath, she forced her body to straighten. She still had the magazine in her hand and as she raised up, she dropped the sleeping bag, rolled the magazine, took a step away from him, turned and attacked.
She hit him repeatedly, hoping to drive him backward. He didn't move. Rock solid. He didn't flinch. He was tall and the magazine hit him in his belly. She went for every man's nightmare and her weapon bounced away from that area. So he was ready for her, protecting himself, trying to show his superiority by not moving. Big mistake. She jumped and went for his throat, jabbing.
He caught her wrist and twisted, drawing her close, easily removing the magazine from her hand and tossing it aside. She fought him. She was strong. He let her struggle, not doing much more than locking her to him, her back to his front. It was impossible to turn around, but she managed to strike a few blows with her heel right into his shin. The entire time she fought, she berated him, calling him the worst names she could think of, but he didn't react to that either, nor did he silence her. He didn't wince when her heels connected with his shin. He simply remained silent and stoic.
Eventually she wore herself out. Her breath came in ragged, shuddering gasps and she fought back tears, feeling helpless; she hung like a rag doll over his arm. The moment the fight went out of her, he drew her back against his body, one arm still locked around her waist. His free hand moved her hair from the back of her neck and he pressed his mouth there.
Trixie tried not to let his light touch affect her, but her body shivered. Fingers of desire crept slowly down her spine in a sneak assault.
"Han sivamak, I know you are hurt and even afraid, but I could not allow you to place yourself in danger. Aleksei is incapable of harming his lifemate. They have already completed the ritual and he is safe. Still, he is extremely dangerous. We have worked hard to strike a balance here at the monastery. We do not engage in battle. Had Aleksei said or done anything against you that could be construed as an attack, I would have defended you and one of us would be killed. Our lifemate would be lost as well. It was simply easier to remove you from the situation in order to explain it to you when all parties were safe."