Читать книгу Noah - Jacquelyn Frank - Страница 7

Corrine looked up when she heard the polite knock on the front door of the home she shared with her husband, Kane. Her russet brows drew together and she tilted her head. She put aside the book she had been reading, uncrossed her long, slim legs, and stood up slowly.

It was unusual for the people she associated with to bother with such a commonplace courtesy as knocking. The Demon society her husband came from didn’t have the same sense of privacy that humans did. Considering that her husband’s friends and family were just about the only people she associated with nowadays, the knock was more than just perplexing.

It was worrisome.

There was danger that came under such guises. Things that seemed terribly ordinary, yet were out of the ordinary, sometimes heralded equally unique hazards.

The Demons were currently, as they had been upon occasion in the past, at odds with a sect of misguided humans who hunted them using deadly force and black magics. These humans had taken it upon themselves to rid the world of all the Nightwalker races. Vampire, Lycanthrope, Demon, and Shadowdweller…they would probably even hunt down the gentle, delicate Mistrals as well if they only knew about them. All that seemed to matter to these types was that these races had power that they did not.

They feared.

And fear always led to prejudiced actions. Being formerly human herself, Corrine understood very well the cruel, brutal things human beings tended to do when faced with things of great differences that they didn’t understand. To make the situation far worse, about two years ago a very powerful Demon female named Ruth had taken leave of her morals and senses and had joined ranks with these self-appointed butchers. She had provided them with information that had led to the increased vulnerability of the Demon race. Ruth had held nothing back, especially since the death of her beloved daughter, which she blamed on Noah and those highest in power.

Corrine shuddered with the chill that crossed her soul as she recalled the attack on her own sister Isabella, which had almost killed her and the unborn child she had carried at the time. Corrine herself had fallen victim to these forces once already, snatched from under her very own roof. Coupled with some of the gruesome reports Kane had discussed with her, it was clear that no one would be truly safe until Ruth and her companions were all neutralized.

Ruth’s revenges had too often begun with a simple knock on the door. Kane was constantly warning her to think carefully before she moved anywhere outside the circle of his protection. Now, though he was always close to her in spirit and could always use his power as a Mind Demon to teleport to her side in a heartbeat should she need him, she still felt enormous trepidation when she realized she was pretty much alone and facing the unknown.

“Corrine?”

The faint call sent a wash of relief through her, forcing an involuntary sigh to escape her. She moved hurriedly toward the door after hearing the familiarity in the voice coming from the other side. She yanked open the portal, smiling when the promise of the voice was fulfilled with the handsome visage of the Demon King. Her welcoming expression warred with the urge to scold him for giving her such a clear case of the heebie-jeebies.

Noah smiled at the slender redhead, noting that, as usual, she was mostly composed of a riot of abundant coils of hair. She was taller than her sister Isabella, more willowy and leggier than his little Enforcer’s decidedly compact and curvaceous figure. In fact, if it were not for their attitudes and Bronx accents, Noah felt there would be nothing to suggest they were at all related.

Noah did take note of the relief on her face, however, and felt the kinetic energy of her residual fear like a tepid breeze. It was then that he realized he had given her a scare, and he kicked himself for not giving his actions more thought.

“I am sorry,” he said softly to her, reaching for the hand that gripped the door frame, taking it warmly between both of his after prying it free. “Did I frighten you?”

“Scared the daylights out of me, is more like it,” she declared, her Bronx enunciation heavier than usual due to her ruffled calm. “Since when do Demons knock?”

“Since Druids who are part human with very human foibles started joining our ranks,” he rejoined, chuckling under his breath as he placed a soothing, chivalrous kiss on the back of the hand he cradled. “I am trying to set an appropriate example.”

“Your efforts are appreciated,” Corrine commended him, blowing a coil of her hair off her face with exasperation, “but next time, warn me before you make attempts at non-Demon behaviors. I had visions of pissed-off magic-users about to bounce me into the ground. Or worse.”

She finally relinquished her fear, stepping into his offer of peaceful affection, hugging him with warm, familiar welcome. He put soothing energy and tenderness into the embrace, pushing it into her until he sensed her heartbeat slowing down from its frightened flutter. He had come to seek solace, to free himself of a torture that had gone on too long already. He hadn’t come to thoughtlessly frighten her to death.

“You are looking well,” he said, almost at the same time she was thinking that he wasn’t looking quite like himself.

Even under the worst duress and circumstances, Noah would always look as powerful as he was. As a Demon of Fire, his energy resources were virtually unlimited. He could borrow from the energy or life force of anything that lived or sparked in order to revitalize himself. Corrine suspected that, were it not for the lethargic compulsion of the sun that all Demons fell under, Noah would not even need to sleep to replenish used resources of the day.

But it was no secret to Corrine, or anyone else who had even the slightest familiarity with the Demon King’s usual easygoing nature, that Noah looked more than a little tense around his edges.

“So,” Corrine said, this time infinitely more relaxed as she did so, “what brings you to our little corner of the world?”

“Oh, just visiting,” the King said lightly, linking his hands behind his back as she stepped back to allow him access into her home. “Kane is not here,” he noted.

“No. He’s visiting Jacob at the moment.”

She watched the King’s smile automatically grow wider at the mention of her brother-in-law’s name. Corrine thought, with no little amusement, that the King’s fondness for Jacob was obvious. Unlike humans, Demons weren’t constricted by the confusing rituals that preceded the revelation of one person’s feelings for another. In fact, it was safe to say that they wore their hearts on their sleeves, embroidered in wild red, with indicator signs flashing in neon that said point-blank the value one person had within the heart of another.

It was one of those things in their complex culture that she’d come to appreciate and enjoy. Still, Corrine was amused by the way Noah made his favoritism for Jacob so evident. But she understood that Noah and Jacob had a very special sort of friendship, one that could only be formed between two men of outstanding and distinct power.

However, she was puzzled as to why Noah had dropped by her home. Though her sister and brother-in-law were extremely close to Noah, his affection didn’t naturally extend just by familial association. To say she and Kane were special friends with the King would have been an exaggeration. Oh, they were as welcome and loved by Noah as any other member of Demon society, but it was rare for the monarch to single them out without there being a purpose behind it.

So Corrine watched him with no little curiosity as he wandered into their comfortable home and looked it over with interest. He’d been there once before, though not in a circumstance that would have allowed him to take much note of the décor or the warm, feminine trinkets that Corrine had added to it. Still, you didn’t rush a King to reveal his business, and for the moment Corrine was content to simply visit with him and let him come to it in his own time.

“Why are you not visiting your sister while Kane visits with Jacob?” the King asked conversationally, his rich accent a denser, older version of her husband’s. Noah was more than a half millennium older than Kane was. Kane’s verbal affectations had come from being raised around the inflected English—Jacob’s inflected English, to be exact. Like Jacob’s, Noah’s elegantly distorted English had come from the Ancient Demon language itself, learned long before English had fallen from his tongue.

“I see her often enough,” she assured him, leaning casually into the archway that led into the living area Noah was inspecting with singular fascination. “I’m actually taking a day off from watching my rather rambunctious niece. Leah is going through the Demon/Druid version of the terrible twos, and believe me when I tell you, I deserve some time to myself. Especially with Samhain not too far around the corner. Once your Enforcers get busy Enforcing, I’ll be babysitting quite a bit.”

“Indeed,” Noah agreed, his tone a little more grave, whether he was aware of it or not. “And I believe Leah is a Demon. Although she is part human and part Druid when you see her lineage in her parents, their children…that is, any children born of Demons and Druids can only be one or the other. It is why the races were able to remain separate for generation upon generation. Of course, we cannot know for sure until she comes into power as a Demon does or remains dormant as a Druid does…but the Prophecy speaks of Leah as a new breed of Demon—” Noah cut himself off, drawing even more of Corrine’s curiosity as he fidgeted with a small statuette in a manner that was very much out of character for the unflappable King. “Your sister will be busy these next nights. I had wondered who she would entrust Leah’s care to, considering that Demons can never be fully trusted around Samhain and—”

He broke off again, wrestling with intense private thoughts. Of course Corrine was quite familiar with the drawbacks that came with Demon holy days like Samhain and the phases of the moon around them. Just as she was familiar with the benefits of them.

It had been a full Samhain moon that had brought her and Kane together, giving her a blissful new life filled with passion and love. However, it had come very close to completely destroying her in the process. Corrine could appreciate Noah’s trepidation. Also, the King wasn’t married, or mated as the Demons called it, and that made it all the harder for him. Corrine hadn’t noticed any signs of Noah losing control, but it wasn’t exactly her area of expertise. What she could see was his disturbance of the moment.

Noah’s restraint was legendary and unparalleled, and his nature was consistently serene. It was only ruffled when his family came under threat. Even a threat to his society as a whole couldn’t disturb him to the depth that a threat to those dear to him could. So to see him disturbed in any way incited concern as well as curiosity.

Despite the soft warning in the back of her mind, Corrine threw patience and protocol aside with a sigh. “Noah, is there something I can help you with?”

Noah looked up from his distant study of the figurine, his jade eyes with their clouds of gray meeting hers in that way that only someone of royalty or great position seemed able to manage. Noah wasn’t a cruel or overtly strict monarch, but he was a man used to the privileges that came with his position, a position he’d earned the hard way. Demons selected their royal leader on merit alone, not entirely because of lineage or fortune of birth.

“Come on,” she coaxed the King gently, advancing into the room and purposely putting the warmth of her body into the influence of his personal space. It was a trick she’d learned from Kane. The best way to soothe the sometimes volatile temper of a Fire Demon, he’d told her, was to bring the warmth of her energy and its good intentions so close to them that it had a soothing effect. “I’m aware you care for me and Kane as much as anyone else, but you’re not in the habit of dropping in just to shoot the breeze. You love my sister like that, not me.”

Noah looked down at his feet and chuckled softly, a short sound followed by a rueful shake of his head. “You shame me,” he said quietly. “I never realized I played favorites so obviously.”

“Frankly, I prefer to be ill-favored,” she teased him with a pretty, flirtatious smile. “When you love someone, Noah, you elevate them to remarkable status in your circle of advisers or in your army of defenders. By all means, Noah, love my sister and leave me the hell alone!”

Finally, Noah truly laughed. He threw back his head, the reddish highlights within the ebony fall of gently curling hair gleaming sharply in the muted gaslight that lit the room. The sound of his laughter was infectious, and it made Corrine laugh with him. It also eased her to hear it, to see him relieving himself of the seriousness of whatever it was that was on his mind.

“You know something, you may have just thwarted your own effort, Corrine. Until now, I do not think I have truly appreciated the warmth of spirit and heart that runs through your family. I have credited one sister, while overlooking the other. For that, I beg your forgiveness.” He gave her a smart, cordial bow, and she stepped back from him with a chuckle.

“Damn it, if you make me a Council member or something, Kane is going to freak out,” she joked.

“Sorry. Only Elders are allowed on the Great Council.”

“Then explain my sister!” she demanded, reminding him that Isabella was barely thirty years old, not the requisite minimum of three hundred.

“Well, that is different. She is an Enforcer.”

“Yes, yes.” Corrine waved that off the way only an older sister could wave off a younger sister’s accomplishments. “Don’t make me accuse you of trying to change the subject again, Noah.”

“Perish the thought,” he assured her, his eyes turning serious again only a heartbeat after his words had. This time, she allowed him the pair of minutes he took to order his heavy thoughts. “I have struggled with myself for quite some time about the matter of seeking you out, Corrine,” he began at last. The King paced away from her briefly, and then turned to look at her. Corrine watched as he rubbed his hands together, as if warding off a chill. The concept of a Fire Demon catching chill was preposterous. She bit her lip, held her tongue, and somehow managed not to overstep herself. “Since we found you and Isabella, we have only been able to find three other Druids. Can you tell me why? What do you think is the cause?”

The question was pretty much out of left field, but if Noah was headed in the direction she suspected he was, it perhaps wasn’t so off topic.

“I have only a theory,” she responded willingly. “No one knew Druids still existed. Every Demon thought Druids had been annihilated in the war a millennium ago.” Corrine knew he was familiar with the history, so she kept it brief. “But when Jacob met Bella, and the night Kane touched me for the first time, triggering the birth of our dormant Druidic DNA, we all learned differently.”

“A hard lesson,” Noah observed.

“Yes,” she agreed. She tilted her head down with a half smile on the corner of her lips, the expression seeming more ironic than amused. “As you know, once a Druid’s genetics are triggered, they must remain within relatively close proximity of that Demon who will become their perfect Imprinted mate. Since Kane and I were separated right after our first contact, I was deprived of his key energy and suffered for it.

“With Bella, power acquisition was nearly instantaneous. With me, because of the energy starvation that Gideon likens to brain damage, it took a year or so before we even knew that my key talent was the ability to quest for the hidden Druid hybrids destined to be perfect mates for the Demons fate designed specifically for them.” She gave him a wry little smile. “So the first part of my answer is centered on the setbacks I suffered when I first became Druid, since there really is no other way to determine the unique Druidic dormancy that’s hidden amongst millions of humans.”

Corrine exhaled a deep sigh.

“The rest of the blame, however, lies at Demon doors,” she said. “I’m at full power now, Noah. I have been for the better part of a year. I’ve made no secret of what my main Druidic ability is. Still, I have to wait for your Demons to voluntarily come to me in search of their mates.” She flicked a frustrated glance over him as he stood there as the ultimate representation of his people. “They’ve been inexplicably recalcitrant. Why only three other Druids, you ask? Because there’s only been three Demons who have come to request my help. I can’t chase Demons down and force them to let me seek their mates. I need them open and willing in order to aid me in the success of my search. And those three Demons who did come to me? They reeked of the mental and physical desperation of Beltane and Samhain.

“I’m convinced that they came to me only as a last-ditch effort at avoiding doing something rash that would attract the punishment of the Enforcers.” She exhaled a short, bitter-sounding laugh. “I suppose I’m looked on as the lesser of the two evils. Better to be saddled with a Druid mate than to find the Enforcers bearing down on you.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand it! In human culture, we spend our lifetime seeking and longing for the perfect soul mate, most of us never knowing anything close to it. We’re left hurting and jaded as we fail over and over again. But here your people have a guaranteed path, through me, to finding that very thing, and they approach it like complex dental work or a plague! Maybe you can explain that to me, Noah, because I know I don’t understand it.

“Am I wrong when I say you were all raised on fairy-tale stories of the glories of an Imprinting?” She realized she’d struck a chord when the King no longer met her eyes and shifted his weight uncomfortably. “If I were suddenly told that stories like Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty were absolutely true and all I had to do was knock on a certain door to find my Prince Charming, I would fall all over myself to do it.” Then she smiled and blushed, memories of waking for the first time to find herself tethered to a perfect man scudding through her mind. She recalled the undeniable craving for unity with Kane. “I’d never heard of the Imprinting,” it provoked her to say passionately. “It wasn’t part of my folklore. Yet now I accept it in my life with enormous pleasure and gratitude. Why is it your people can’t?”

The King didn’t respond immediately to the sharp scrutiny in the question. Instead, he looked directly at her at last and reached to touch two fingers to her chin, making her turn her eyes directly up to his. She looked into the smoke and jade swirls of emotion as he studied her for a long, silent moment. Corrine somehow managed to remain still and relaxed under that unnervingly penetrating gaze. She had no idea what he was looking for, nor how he was searching for it, but she suspected it was important that he find it before answering.

“You let me lead myself quite neatly into your little trap, did you not?” he accused softly, but without any real malice.

Corrine didn’t pretend at ignorance.

“Noah, you’re their King and you’re unmated. If you won’t come to me when you so clearly long to, so clearly need to, why would any of your subjects do otherwise?”

“Have I been that obvious?” he asked, his tone tight with his tortured feelings on the topic, his hand reflexively tightening around her jaw.

“I would have to say…only since your Warrior Captain married the Lycanthrope Queen. He was the last highly positioned bachelor you kept close to you. First Jacob; then Gideon and your sister; and then when Elijah fell in love with Siena, it wasn’t long before you started grumping around the castle.”

“Damn it,” Noah cursed softly, releasing his hold on her roughly. He paced away from her, running an agitated hand through his hair.

Corrine was abruptly aware of her husband’s telepathic presence flaring to alertness in her thoughts. He was protesting the way Noah was treating her, but she pushed him firmly away, scolding him to mind his own business, that her discussion with Noah was a private one. Kane backed off with impressive immediacy, respecting her desire to respect his King.

“You have to understand,” Noah said at last as he stared out of a nearby window, “it has been a very long time since the Imprinting has become an issue any of us have had to give any true thought to. For centuries it has been as rare as…as…”

“A snowball in hell?” she offered.

This time Noah wasn’t inclined to laugh or let himself be eased by her humor. His fingers curled into a fist that he pressed against the window frame. “Hell.” He laughed mirthlessly. “The human concept of hell has always amused me, especially considering the fact that ‘demons’ are reputed to be its main occupants. I am forced to admit that there is some truth to that imagery today, Corrine. I fall asleep every day at sunrise, but I get no rest. This is because I visit my own personal hell, where agonizing beauty, pleasure, and a gluttony of satisfying emotions lie always just out of sight and reach. I dream of her. Every time I close my eyes, I dream of this woman you are meant to find for me. I have dreamed of her every single day for six months straight.”

Corrine winced visibly as he imparted this information with such clear pain. She’d had no idea that it had come to this awful form of torture. To suffer the elusive dream of your perfect mate for half a year must indeed be akin to hell for a species who felt as deeply and powerfully as Noah’s did.

“Why wouldn’t you come to me sooner?” she finally asked him, knowing beyond any shadow of doubt that this was what had finally brought him there.

“Because I am a King, little Druid. You come from a culture where that no longer means as much as it does to us, but surely you have gotten a better idea of it as you have lived with Kane.”

“I have. Enough to know that not one Demon under your rule expects you to remain single and alone for the sake of your reign.” Corrine braced her feet apart and settled her hands on her hips. “In fact, every Demon I know would scoff at that notion. Don’t blame this on your people, Noah. I may not be an expert on your society, but I do know that nothing would please them more than to see you give your heart into the hands of your Imprinted mate. So let’s skip the bullshit and come to the real point of why you’ve lain in bed, day after endless day, torturing yourself rather than coming and asking me for help.”

“Damn you, woman,” he barked, banging the window frame so hard with his fist that the glass rattled. “Has your husband taught you nothing of how you should speak to someone in my position?”

“Oh, kiss my ass,” Corrine blustered as her famous familial temper got the better of her. “If you’re just going to spout the cloud cover of protocol and all that high-handed crap, then I would prefer you not waste my time!” She stepped closer to him, in spite of the fact that his temper had caused the air around him to heat up considerably. “If you were any kind of a monarch you would jump at the chance to set a good example for your suffering people. And they are suffering, Noah. The longer they remain unmated, the more likely it is they will cave to their instincts and find themselves breaking laws and putting innocents in danger. You’re a remarkable leader and scholar. Where is your intelligence when it comes to this? Kane tells me you’ve hunted for centuries to find the cure for the suffering that overcomes your people on the Hallowed nights. Well, it’s here, Noah,” she said vehemently, thrusting her fingers against her breastbone. “It’s inside me! Come to me. Make them come to me!”

“Corrine…”

“What? What excuse is it now?” she barked.

“No excuse,” he assured her quietly. “Just confession. Confession of the one truth behind all of the questions you ask with such righteous merit.”

“Which is?” she prompted.

“Fear,” he responded with a sigh. “Pure and simple fear.”

“Fear?” Corrine gaped at him for a beat. “What in God’s name could you possibly fear from the Imprinting? Noah, are you blind? Haven’t you seen the scope of the new love surrounding you these past three years?”

“Yes, yes,” he said with impatience as he turned to look at her at last. “I have eyes and sense. I see you all, revolving around me like little planets, deep in your own little worlds made up in the space between your locked gazes and impassioned bodies. I watch until I am black-sighted with jealousy, Corrine!”

“Noah, please…forgive me,” she begged earnestly, her pretty brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand. I truly want to understand, but I don’t. What is it you fear? Why be jealous when I can give you our joy for yourself? You are so brilliant, but I see no logic here!”

“I am afraid…” He hesitated, the phraseology unfamiliar and bitter to his taste. “I am afraid I am too late.”

“Noah…”

“She has suffered. She has been through some great pain and I was not there to spare her,” he confessed quickly. “I do not know what it was, or even if she suffers still, because her emotions are always so volatile. I am afraid of bringing her to me, of thrusting her into this existence. Being my Queen is not an easy life, Corrine. She will be in danger—especially in light of recent events. She will become a target. Yes, she will be accepted by most, but those who do not accept can be brutal with their opinions, as you no doubt know from your sister’s experiences. I ask you, how can I, in good conscience, bring an already tortured soul into my world for my own selfish needs, knowing all of this?”

“Noah,” Corrine said with soft surprise. “Noah, you will bring her here so you can love her. There is no hardship in the world that can’t be made better with the type of love the Imprinting can bring! You said yourself, you don’t know if she is still suffering. Would you leave her there, will you let it continue, knowing you can stop it?”

Noah made a distressed sound and his eyes darkened to gray. The thought was unconscionable, and it tore through him like thousands of sharp, shredding tines. In a single sentence Corrine changed his misguided ideas of nobility to horrified realization. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that he had wasted time. Now he realized that time was a black enemy and he was in a deadly race with it.

“Tell me how,” he demanded. “Corrine, help me.”

The Miserable Princess

A Demon Fairy Tale

Cont’d…

As nice as love stories about the Imprinting sounded, Sarah was very practical for a Princess. She knew her father was looking for a miracle, just as she knew she was the one who would end up going mad from his desperation to fix the odds more in royal favor. At the moment, that meant propping her up prettily in her throne, displaying her like a frilly trophy to be won. It was like being set afloat on a raft in a sea of greedy piranhas, and Sarah was not stupid enough to dangle a single welcoming toe into the water, lest she get chewed up and spit out into a form nothing like herself. So Sarah set her mind to the task of being so cold and so disinterested that no one would dare approach her.

Just then the Enforcer walked onto the playing field.

An immediate chill rippled outward from the place where he entered the arena, both through the participants and the crowd in the stands above. It was clearly visible as it shuddered through them all, every adult and child, the murmur that buzzed loudly all around her. The hostility and, yes, outright hatred everyone felt for this powerful man who enforced the King’s laws and extracted harsh, mortifying punishment for those who broke them was palatable.

Sarah shivered in spite of herself as she watched the Enforcer cross into the playing field, seemingly oblivious of the stir of emotions he was creating all around him. If she were going to be honest, she would have to admit that when she put fear and prejudice aside, she was still left intimidated by his prowess alone. Had he been a simple warrior, he would surely have made a glorious name for himself in battle, as well as prize competitions like this one. But his battles were fought against his own people.

He was the one true villain in the picture laid before her. The villain condoned by the King.

His name was Ariel, far too angelic a name for one who even looked the villainous part. He was bearded and mustached, though both were trimmed close with an almost single-minded perfection. Rough dark brows slashed above his eyes, and his hair was barely long enough to make the queue it was tied into at his nape. His hair was dark as pitch, but the sleek, silky shine of it was fastidious, showing off an almost navy tint of highlights in the too-bright moonlight.

Just then, thick, sooty lashes parted and revealed the icy blue eyes that so easily terrified everyone who faced off with the Enforcer. They were as glass, frigid and sparkling like shaved ice.

And they were looking directly at Sarah.

The Princess felt another chill blow over her, shuddering down her skin until she was covered in goose bumps. Her childish behaviors were forgotten in an instant and she straightened imperiously into the figure of a woman of her station. She could not tell clearly if that was a smile he was taunting her with, his whiskers in the way, but there was cold amusement in his eyes.

He boldly advanced to the stairs leading up to her viewing box, oblivious of the startled scramble of powerful Demons making haste to create a path for him, as well as adding a few steps more to ensure safe distance. Princess Sarah was afraid, too, her heartbeat wild and her palms becoming damp with it. But she clutched her moist hands around the arms of her throne and forced herself to smile at him, just to prove to him he couldn’t intimidate her, even though she had never been as close to him before as she was apparently going to be in just another minute….

At first, all she could hear was the low, steady thrum of a heartbeat.

She lifted her cheek, felt the coolness that crossed it as she left a pillow of perfect warmth. The heartbeat became distant as she raised her head farther and blinked her eyes for clarity.

The next thing she was aware of was that haunting, sense-numbing smell. Every single time she closed her eyes it was there. The scent had temperature, if it was possible. Heated, but not overtly so. It was mellow on some levels, like gentle musk and flirting masculinity. On other echelons it was headier. Rich and smoky.

Yes, that was it.

Smoke. Softly burnt cedar, smoldering maple, and the sweet tang of apple wood.

It was his scent.

It was the same scent that had wrapped around her time after insane time for endless months. It haunted her constantly, sometimes in frustrating, imposing ways, and other times in a darkly passionate manner that made her crawl with frustration within her own skin.

He didn’t like it when she moved away from him, and it always showed in the possessive sweep of his hands as they threaded into the straight fall of her hair. She knew by instinct alone that her hair fascinated him. He was always touching it, holding her prisoner by it, drawing it to the rub of his lips.

She was too tired to battle him. After six months of this blissful, exasperating torture at his persistent hands and stubborn nature, she had become too addicted to the way he could eventually bend her to his pleasure and her own. Before he had come, she had prided herself for her control of her own body. Gymnastics, martial arts, and marathon runs were her measuring stick, all of which she had excelled in at one point or another in her lifetime.

But it all went to hell in a speedy little handbasket the moment his fingertips touched her skin and his breath whispered against her ear. He spoke, she knew, but speech was wiped away into unintelligible whispers and hot clouds of increasingly excited breath.

She didn’t mind so much, though. She couldn’t see the features of his face, so she could tell herself that it was purely imagination and therefore safe to indulge in.

Then she would remember that her imagination had been fixated on this mysterious man as well as his alluring scent and feel without fail, every single time, and she would feel the quickening of her heart as she acknowledged on a very distant level that this was all more than just a dream. This was the thought that always panicked her into struggling with him, trying to fight him even though she knew how futile it was. He never had to force her to his will; he could do it well enough with the sweet skill of his touch alone, with the sweeping seal of his lips and mouth as he slowly devoured her resistance along with her kisses.

Kestra ripped out of sleep with a growl of annoyance, forcing herself awake just so she could make the audible sound of protest and denial. She lay in the dampness of sheets misted with perspiration, breathing hard and feeling her chest ache with the violent pounding of her heart. She pressed a palm to her rib cage.

“Damn you!” she cursed up to the ceiling, though she was unsure if she was cursing the dream man, God, or herself. No matter who it was, they were playing massive head games with her when she was asleep and at her most vulnerable. It was exhausting her, wreaking havoc with her concentration, strength, and equilibrium, all of which were her primary tools in her work. When James started noticing she was off her stride, then she truly knew she was in trouble. She needed sleep, but sleep brought him. When she tried to stay awake, she always failed miserably, falling irresistibly into unconsciousness and subsequently his unending thrall over her.

Kestra slid out of bed, walking her hot, damp body through the cold room. She paced in her thin, plaid boxers, rolled at the waist to better fit her trim hips, and white ribbed tank top, trying to shake off the kinetic restlessness these dreams always left behind.

She needed to get laid.

That was the only thing she could come up with at this point. It had to be the reason why she indulged in these highly erotic fantasies in her sleep, only to wake up more unsatisfied than ever. James would have laughed at the idea of her latest solution. He knew her well enough to know that blowing things up was her best form of release, not sex. But she’d just torched an entire dock of warehouses that previous night, and yet here she was again, dreaming the dreams of the deeply, deeply sexually deficient.

“I can’t take this anymore,” she muttered to the cold, empty room. “Something has got to change, and it better damn well do it soon!”