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“What, I wasn’t supposed to notice the robe-tent you’re currently sporting?” she sneered, poking at his inner bear. “Sorry, but it looks like you’re smuggling a Shake Weight under there.”
Shake Weight? “It is a bodily reaction,” he grated.
“Let’s be real. You don’t want to lock me away for my crimes. You want to lock me away because you blame me for your desire. You’re lashing out, because I dared to turn you on, as if females aren’t blamed for a male’s actions and reactions all the time. Tell me, Bjorn. Which of these scenarios works best for you? I pretend not to notice your arousal…and you consider me prudish. I point out that you obviously like the look of me…but I’m conceited. How about I explain to you how you can’t possibly want me…so you can ding me for being insecure? If ever you compliment me, should I accept it and come across as needy, or reject it like a baby-back-bitch? There’s just no winning with you or anyone, so, I’ll stick with the truth. You want me because I look like a tasty snack, and we both know it.”
She…wasn’t wrong. The wisdom of her words knocked him breathless. Sent Ones worshipped truth, and she’d just given him a healthy dose of it. “I…apologize,” he said, and he meant it. He scoured his free hand over his face—tired, so tired. So much to do. So much he didn’t want to do.
She blinked, shook her head, rubbed her ears. “Am I in the middle of a delusion?” Rolling her hips provocatively, she crossed the room, closing in on him, daring him to strike at her. “It sounded like you—a stubborn, self-righteous tosser—just apologized to your number one target.”
The fact that she stood within striking distance, unafraid, all challenge and sensuality while he held a fiery sword… Did she hope to disarm him? Or did she hope to pick up where they’d left off?
His shaft throbbed harder than ever.
If ever he received an opportunity to select a woman from a catalogue, he’d pick someone like Fox, right here, right now. Dark hair mussed. Strong but vulnerable. Lithe body draped in his T-shirt, and only his T-shirt. Lips that were red and puffy from his kisses. How had he never noticed the little freckles that dotted her nose? Adorable.
His chest clenched. Adorable? No! She is lethal seduction, and I must remain on guard. Always. “You are not deluded. You are a beautiful woman, and your confidence is commendable. I never should have implied otherwise.”
More blinking. Head canted to the side, she said, “Why didn’t you kill me in my sleep? I would think you would think it’d be kinder than healing me, locking me up, keeping me stressed about D day—death day—until you finally got the balls to do your duty. Or maybe you were too busy snuggling with me?”
“My reasons are my own,” he said, shoving the words past his gritted teeth. The hardness of his tone should have told her more than his words: Ask another question at your peril. “Do you not think dying in your sleep would be better?”
“Hell, no. When I go, it will be in battle. I will face death straight-on.”
Such bravery. Such courage. Such strength. His admiration for her multiplied.
“How am I healed?” she asked, forging ahead. “Your buddies whipped me with infirm?de. I should have suffered until my death. Did you do something to aid me?”
Maddening female. “I will not reveal the reason.” While the Water of Life wasn’t a secret, exactly, Sent Ones rarely confirmed or denied its existence. Already, immortals attempted to storm the heavens on a daily basis to hunt and find the river where the Water flowed.
“In other words,” she said, smug now, “yes, you did do something to aid me. I’m gonna guess…Water of Life? Yeah, I know about it. I do my homework. Anyway. I’m confused about your reasons. Why save me from pain rather than completing your mission?”
Maddening, perceptive female. His actions confused him, too. “Kissing you must have addled my brain,” he grumbled. If only he’d resisted the all-consuming urge. He wouldn’t know the sweetness of her taste, the softness of her body when it pressed against the hardness of his, the intoxicating scent of her arousal—a heady perfume—or the drugging warmth of her silken skin.
Now I must give her up?
In her arms, he’d forgotten his troubles. For a few minutes, the stress he’d carried for so long had ebbed. But, as soon as the kiss ended, those troubles and stresses rushed back.
“I didn’t ask you about the kiss,” she snipped at him. “But. Since you brought it up, let’s do it. Let’s go there. I’ll break this down for you, and you’ll listen like a good boy, m’kay?”
Though he knew he should protest, he nodded, eager to hear what her keen mind observed. “Go on. I’m listening.”
Go on she did. “You want me, you just don’t want to want me. You can’t resist this”—she waved to indicate the length of her body— “and that is why you want to keep me around a little longer.”
He clenched his jaw, the muscles taut. Maddening, perceptive, smart female. “You are cold, calculating and conniving, and I cannot be sure of your motivations. You care for nothing—”
“Wrong! If you’re going to malign my character, at least do so accurately. I care for Galen and Legion, control, money, success, gold, jewels, money, victory, weapons, money, and killing the deserving.” Her shoulders sagged the slightest bit, and he didn’t have to wonder why. She’d remembered the ten. They had not been deserving.
A second later, she squared those shoulders. Had he not been observing her every move, he would have missed the entire byplay.
Realization: She isn’t cold. She does feel. She just fights her emotions.
He reeled, his chest clenching again. This time, the clenching didn’t let up. As long as he’d lived, he’d observed many people who’d fought their emotions. They’d all had one thing in common—they felt too much. Usually, due to some sort of trauma in their past.
What did he know about Fox’s past? Only what he’d seen in his dream. How long had she wandered the streets of Ancient Greece, starving, dirty and vulnerable? Had other soldiers harmed her? What other horrors had she endured?
Bjorn squeezed the sword hilt tighter. He knew Galen the Treacherous had found and protected the girl at some point. I am to be the villain, the one who locks her away, while a male known as the Treacherous is the hero?
Bjorn opened his sword hand and lowered his arm, the fiery weapon vanishing. Annoyed by the situation, by Fox, by himself, he sighed, weary, and said, “I do not wish to fight you, Fox.”
“So? If you try to lock me up, a fight is going to happen. You have the Fox gold-star guarantee on that.”
“What if I pay you to walk yourself to the dungeon?”
Intrigue glittered in her lovely hazel eyes. “I hear the disapproval in your tone, baby boy. You consider me materialistic.”
“I do.” No reason to deny it.
“Maybe I like material gain because it allows me to save the people I love. Ever think of that? With an overflow of cash, I can buy weapons, mystical artifacts, homes, food, computers and vehicles—all necessities for surviving an immortal war. Wait. I can already hear your response.” Mimicking and mocking him, she wagged her finger in his direction and said, “Now, Foxy, my sweet. You should have a lady boner for helping everyone, not just your loved ones.”
Lady boner? The things this beauty said had a way of stabbing his high horse to death, leaving him reeling, without a solid foundation to stand upon. Worth it. Fox made life more exciting. She even made arguments fun.
Tension ebbed from his muscles. He canted his head to the side and told her, “You m
ake a valid point. But I think you have forgotten a basic rule of humanity. Everyone you hate and consider worthy of elimination is someone else’s loved one.”
Her breath hitched. She opened and closed her mouth without making a sound. Finally, she settled on, “You make a valid point, too. Damn you!”
He took a step closer. Why are you doing this? Stop!
Can’t stop. Can’t stay away.
Drawn to her, he took another step closer, and another, until only a whisper of air separated their bodies. She stilled and stiffened, as if uncertain about his intentions. But, as he did nothing more than inhale her innate fragrance, awareness crackled in the air between them, little lightning strikes against his skin. They both began to pant.
“Back off, Bjorn,” she croaked.
“Why?” he asked, mimicking her. “Because you lack the strength to back away from me?” Is she as weak for me as I am for her? Even the notion thrilled him.
“Because you plan to kill me one day, and I can’t trust you.”
“You can trust me today, for I vow I will not harm you. Unless you attack me, and I must defend myself.” Always best to add a qualifier. “But back off? No. I’m a little too busy mentally stripping you out of that shirt.” Only minutes ago, he’d held her breasts in his hands. Those plump beauties were more than a handful, firm yet soft, and absolutely, utterly perfect.
She snorted. “Please. You aren’t just stripping me. You’re also imagining parking your boner in my garage.”
He fought a smile. Damn her!
As much as he disliked this woman—no, that wasn’t true. He didn’t dislike her. He disliked what she’d done. The real problem? He liked her more than he should.
I’m not going to kill her—ever. He would have to find another path.
There has to be another way. He wanted to help this woman, not harm her.
The truth drifted through his mind, found a spot to camp, and erected a tent. He’d had a hard-on for her ever since he’d spied her flying out of that shower stall, wet and naked. Every interaction since had only increased his desire for her.
