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I love being in the middle of humanity…and it feels special to have Marrok by my side, even if I have to ignore every other woman eyeing my hot hunk of man.
Well, not mine. But he’s here with me for now. I’m not getting attached. I can’t. Sure, it feels like we’re connected, and we’re having sex. No, we’re having jaw-dropping, I-never-imagined-it-could-be-that-hot sex. But despite the fact he seems determined to keep me in his bed, he’s not actually mine.
As we near the top of the wheel, Marrok clenches my hand in a death grip, his breathing shallow and fast. I squeeze back reassuringly.
“Look.” I point out the window to distract him. “The Westminster Bridge.”
Eyes squinted shut, he nods and grips my hand tighter.
“It’s okay, big guy. I promise. One little peek?”
He shakes his head emphatically.
I’m not sure whether to laugh or hug him.
London spreads out before us like a giant maze. The River Thames just north, south London filling the other half of the view. From here, the scope of the city amazes me.
“Wow,” I breathe.
Tentatively, Marrok lifts one lid and follows my gaze. Then he gapes, eyes wide open to the view. “The city has grown…beyond belief.”
“There was little here when you fought for Arthur?” I murmur discreetly. “Other than what the Romans left behind.”
“Aye. I am in awe, though I could not live amongst all these souls.”
I smile. “You will never be a modern man.”
“Not if I can help it.”
I laugh and let him clutch my hand through the slow descent to solid ground, feeling a dangerously warm, fuzzy feeling. I like knowing he trusts me enough to lean on me when he’s afraid.
I’m probably reading too much into it. After all, I’m the only other person here he knows. But my support and encouragement seem to help him. My commentary rouses his curiosity, too. And best of all? He doesn’t close his eyes for the rest of the ride.
What’s happening between us is crazy. I’ve barely known the man for three days. By his own account, he isn’t into relationships. But somehow in that short time, he’s started filling in the empty corners inside me that should have been occupied by my mother, girlfriends, or a significant other. But I keep feeling like I’ve met my “person.”
It’s official; I’ve gone insane. But I don’t feel that way. The bond between us keeps growing, strengthening, every moment, every breath, every heartbeat. First like a string, then a heavy-duty rope, and now an impenetrable mammoth steel rod reinforced with ten feet of concrete. And my foolish heart? It keeps insisting that I belong with him. To him.
How long before he breaks it?
As we exit the Ferris wheel, I sneak a glance at his strong profile—and ignore more women gawking at him, all hot and tall and inked.
Though Marrok doesn’t glance twice at any of them and doesn’t seem like he’s in a hurry to let me go, that doesn’t mean he shares my feelings. He’s immortal, and he has an ax to grind with one of my ancestors. He’s probably only giving me attention to keep me close so I’ll help break his curse.
I need to remember that—or at least try. Problem is, I’m falling hard and fast. And I don’t think there’s any stopping it.
Chapter Thirty
When the night of Bram’s party arrives, I honor Marrok’s request…sort of. My dress isn’t skimpy and black; it’s minuscule and siren red.
I grabbed the flashy garment, left over from a gallery showing, from my flat when he wasn’t looking. Since he seems strangely attracted to me, I’m eager to see his face when I remove my coat. And feel his wicked touch once we’re alone.
Just thinking about the delicious way he reduced me to moans a mere hour ago makes me flush. For a man deprived of sexual satisfaction for a millennium and a half, he’s making up for lost time fast. I’m not getting much sleep. And I’m not complaining.
As soon as we exit the car, Marrok pulls me close with a sly smile. “Your face tells me your thoughts.”
“Proper party etiquette, of course. Is there an Emily Post of the magical world?”
“Liar. For that, I will enjoy making you suffer later.”
